Sold to the Alien Cartel: An Alien Menage Romance Page 2

  “You’d fucking better be,” I warn, “or we’re going to be dust long before we can sell this load. Adam! Fire the transporter beam!”

  My other crewmember complies just as quickly as Jenson, despite my harsh tone.

  That was something else they respected. Adam and Jenson had a hard time adjusting to my harsh tongue at first, but when I’d made it clear to them that it was my way or the highway, they’d swallowed their pride; and it had tasted better than they’d expected. These days, those two men trusted nobody more than me to get them into an asteroid field, do what needed to be done, and get us all out safely.

  Suddenly, my mining beam cut out.

  The searing arc of light disappears, and I curse under my breath:

  “Fucking Korgath!”

  That son of the bitch. If you want a mining beam without a permit, there’s no choice but to go through that infamous crime boss. Korgath owns half the real-estate in the city and has a brutal monopoly on smuggling and the black market. His is the only game in town, and so that’s why I’d had to go to his organization to buy this piece of crap.

  The mining beam I’d bought from Korgath’s underlings was a bare-bones base model, hideously unreliable, and I’d paid many times more than what it was worth. What was worse was that we relied on it – you simply couldn’t mine asteroids without one.

  If only I could afford an Orb-Beam.

  I shudder as I remember the last time I’d used an Orb-Beam – and the dire consequences of my actions. I freed my best friend, but damned my soul for eternity in the process.

  I shake my head. Dwelling on the past is a good way to get yourself killed on a mining mission. Pushing the bitter memories into the back of my head, I escaped my past by throwing the engines at full throttle, and focusing on flying instead.

  Right now, I’m outrunning asteroids. The rest of the time, I’m outrunning the law. Whatever I’m running from on any given day, though, one thing is sure: I’ll never go back. I’ll fly as far and as fast as this little mining ship of mine will take me.

  Somewhat like our mining beam, this little ship is a piece of crap. She runs on ancient fossil fuel technology, she’s practically held together by spit and bubble-gum, but it doesn’t matter. I love her, and she’s my baby. Her hull might be pitted from the rocks that pierced our unsteady shields, and there sure as hell aren’t any fancy Orbs powering the engines or weapons, but she’s all I’ve got – and that’s a lot more than I’d have without her.

  As if listening to my thoughts, there’s a sudden surge of power through the grid. The mining beam stutters back on at full power. Grinning triumphantly, I cut a swathe through the hurtling asteroid we’re pursuing, and then struggle to draw my ship alongside as I shear through more rock, and uncover even more of that valuable platinum.

  Behind me, Adam starts the teleporter beam. Clunks of metal begin to fill our hold – the sweetest sound in the universe ringing out beneath us.

  I love that noise. To me, it sounds just like “Cha-Ching”.

  “Hold is at 70%,” Adam reports down the comm-link. “We’re getting mostly platinum, only a little debris!”

  I grin, white-knuckled as I clutch the controls. These are the times I feel most alive – balanced on the knife-edge between life and death, our ship still together only because of my focus and skill. Adrenaline surges through my veins and my heart pounds as I pull us closer to that precious asteroid.

  Then, suddenly, a chunk of metal comes out of nowhere.

  I dodge left, but it’s too late. The rock and metal screeches against our hull, piercing our shields. Alarm bells ring out and the AI drone is dispatched automatically to fix the breach.

  “We need to get out of here! The storm’s picking up!” It’s Jenson, real fear showing in his voice.

  I snarl down the comms-link: “We’re not leaving with just 70%!” Despite my frustration, the grin never leaves my face – although now it resembles more of a grimace.

  It doesn’t matter, though. I’m addicted to this.

  I’m addicted to the thrill of pushing myself to the limit – of seeing how close I can come to disaster and still make it out alive.

  Grabbing the controls, I dodge left and right through the spinning asteroids, keeping my ship stuck close to the wake of that hurtling asteroid. I feel like a hunter of old, harrying a wooly mammoth, avoiding the sweep of its tusks and the stomp of its feet even as I drive it closer to oblivion.

  “80%!” Adam yells, “but the ore quality is lowering! This isn’t worth the risk any more, Juliana! We’ve hit a good score – let’s stay alive long enough to enjoy it!”

  A cloud of tiny rocks, shooting as fast as bullets, suddenly hammers us. I pull out from the wake of that asteroid, ramming the thrusters to 100% so I can dodge and weave through the cloud of spinning rocks until we finally break free of the deadly asteroid storm.

  The turbulence ceases. Our path ahead is clear. I laugh bitterly, wiping the adrenaline sweat from my brow.

  “We did it! Good job team!” I’m jubilant. We’re out of the storm, and now all that’s between us and the riches we mined will be the three-day journey back to Titus.

  Adam pulls himself into the cockpit, emerging from the back of the ship. He’s grinning, holding a bottle of whisky in his hand. “We’ve got to celebrate! An 80% load of almost pure platinum? We’re going to be rich when we sell this haul!”

  A tinge of annoyance hits me. “Yeah – but only after Korgath takes his cut.”

  Korgath. He’s the reason we only scored an 80% load in the first place. The Aurelian Empire controls production of high-quality weaponry, and that includes any of the mining beams worth paying for. Without a permit from those stone-faced Aurelian bastards, the only way to get a mining beam that isn’t going to overheat and explode out here in the far reaches of space is to go through Korgath.

  So not only did he sell us the unreliable piece of shit that prevents us from collecting all we could, he then takes a cut from our profits when we haul it home.

  But there’s no point in complaining. That criminal mastermind owns Titus. There isn’t an elected official who isn’t in his pocket. If you’re walking in downtown Titus, it’s a good bet the building you just passed is his property. And the scariest thing about him? His power isn’t just his influence. He’s more than seven-feet of bulging, brutal muscle – and he isn’t afraid to use it. Korgath’s reputation for violence is well-deserved, enough to keep even the criminals on Titus honest.

  I might hate the cut he takes from my profits, but that’s one thing I respect about him: He does his own work. He doesn’t delegate the dirty stuff. Korgath is willing to get his hands dirty – literally.

  We’ve all heard the stories. Twenty-years ago, a gang of Toads tried to muscle in on Korgath’s territory. To teach them a lesson, he ripped the head clean off one of the Toad gangsters and hung it up in the middle of town – like some grisly holiday ornament. That was before my time, but people still hush when they walk past the site of that gruesome decoration.

  It was a bold move. Korgath had been practically daring the authorities to bring him in, just taunting the Toad gang to retaliate. But nobody did. The authorities wisely stayed silent, and that little cartel of Toads left Titus pretty damn fast.

  Korgath isn’t subtle, but he gets the job done – and with ten percent of my profit in his pocket, he’s just going to keep getting richer.

  Adam holds his hands up placatingly. Korgath is a common source of ire for me.

  “Lighten up. Korgath is just a force of nature, like death and taxes.”

  “Only, we don’t pay taxes,” I spit back, “and we still pay Korgath.”

  Adam shrugs his shoulders in resignation, jiggling that bottle of booze in his hand. For a brief moment, I’m tempted to feel the familiar burn of whisky down my throat again...

  But no, I can’t. Not again. For three months, I dulled my guilt about what happened with cheap whiskey – but the guilt would come back each mo
rning stronger than the hangover.

  What happened. That. I’d saved my best friend, yes – but the lives that were lost to do it…

  I shake my head, snapping myself back into the moment.

  Raising my hand, I growl: “I won’t indulge until we land. Plus, it’s not fair – Jenson has to work the shields.”

  Adam shrugs. “Suit yourself. When we land, we’re going to party like there’s no tomorrow. Maybe you’ll finally lose that V-card.”

  I cringe, wishing I hadn’t spilled that particular detail to these two men.

  It had been over a night of cards and heavy drinking. I’d won the game, but I’d lost my secret. The two men still haven’t let me hear the end of it.

  Oh, I’ve had plenty of opportunities – and plenty of temptations. I didn’t always own my own ship, and when I was earning a paycheck for Mining Corp., I was the only woman on a crew of sometimes thirty sex-starved men – far out in deep space.

  I could have had my pick of them – and some of them were worth picking. But I’d known that if I let one of them into my bed, they’d instantly stop seeing me as a colleague and start looking at me as a prize, instead. It wouldn’t have mattered how much better I was than the others at using a mining beam or dodging asteroids – the only thing that they’d have been interested in would be the treasure they could mine between my legs.

  My desire for respect outweighed the desires of the flesh – and had done so ever since.

  “Her V-card? Nah, she’s saving that for an Aurelian prince,” Jensen mocks from the shield room. “You know how much they love virgins!” I roll my eyes. He can’t help throwing the jab even from across the ship.

  It’s laughable, though. If there’s one thing I’d never do, it’s sleep with an Aurelian.

  They’re the cockiest, most arrogant species in the galaxy – and they have the sexist and misogynistic view that human females share a ubiquitous, secret desire to get on their knees and serve them. The Aurelian’s twisted viewpoint is only encouraged by the droves of human women who volunteer to be part of their vast harems – all eager for a life of luxury and servitude.

  I feel sorry for the kind of woman who’d give up her freedom to become just another eager mouth and bedpartner in an Aurelian harem.

  Sure, they’re muscled like Greek Gods, those Aurelians – and, if the rumors are true, terrifically well-endowed. But they can’t feel emotion like we do. They’re cold, logical and precise. They’re more machine than man.

  Well, up until the moment of mating, that is. Then, they lose all control, descending into a rutting frenzy of animal passion. That’s not what I desire – to end up bruised and battered by some horny, seven-feet-tall beast who can’t control himself.

  What kind of woman would be into that? Letting some huge, beastly alien spank her, whip her, and use her for his pleasure? How can you deserve respect when you’re just another wet hole amongst a harem of countless others – all there to serve some Aurelian braggarts animalistic desires?

  A shudder goes through me at the thought. I can’t believe so many women line up and freely join their harems.

  Addressing Jenson, I growl: “No, I’m just saving it for a guy who doesn’t stink like oil, metal, and two weeks without a shower.” I laugh, and Adam grins, raising his arm and smelling his armpit to confirm my accusation.

  Oh, the two of them had both tried to get into my pants when we’d first started working together. That was way back, on one of those mining hulks owned by one of the many mid-sized mining corporations that don’t look too closely at documentation when they hire you.

  But I shut them both down quick, and they respected that. Now I’ve got my own little mining ship, and I’m the boss. They might not hold their tongues but they sure as hell don’t try anything with me.

  I don’t mind the ribbing. If you can’t take a joke, you’re weak. Plus, I give as good as I get.

  Adam uncorks his whisky with a satisfying plunk. He takes a swig straight from the bottle and sighs luxuriously. “Ah, that’s the stuff. This is the real deal, not that garbage synthesised crap.”

  “It’s all the same, chemically,” yells Jenson from the shields room. Since we don’t have an Orb to power our ship, we can’t afford to power all functions at once. Jenson’s task is to continually allocate our precious power reserves to different segments of our shield grid, trying to predict where the next hit might be. It leaves the rest of our vessel woefully vulnerable, but the grim reality is that if we ran with shields on full spread, we’d quickly burn through our fuel reserves – not to mention our profit margin - and we’d probably overheat this bucket’s generators, to boot.

  But that balancing act, as with so many others that come part-and-parcel of running an older ship, are like second nature to us now. In fact, it should all be smooth sailing until we land back on Titus.

  Ah, Titus. The cartel planet. Barely on the fringes of civilization, far beyond Aurelian rule or Toad thievery, Titus is the planet to run to if you want to disappear.

  I should know. That’s exactly why I ran there. I might have let slip that I’m a virgin while I’d been drinking, but I’ll never share the real secrets of my past.

  Because, the truth is, there’s another reason I’d never get in bed with an Aurelian – and it’s not because I can’t see the appeal of being thrown over an Aurelian’s knee and having my bottom turned red by the hand of a dominant alien.

  No, I avoid Aurelians because I’m on their most wanted list.

  I shake my head and snap my thoughts back to the here-and-now. It might all be smooth sailing back to Titus, but I still need to keep my wits about me. The dullness of empty space can be a trap: Lose focus for even a moment in this endless dark, and a rogue asteroid could hit you, another ship could ambush you, or – if you’re truly unlucky – a Scorp organic-ship could stumble across your path.

  I shudder just at the thought of it. Of all the alien species humanity has had the misfortune of encountering, it’s the Scorps that fill me with the most primal fear. Those grotesque beasts can’t be reasoned with. I’ve heard they grow ten-feet-tall or more, all whirling death, snapping claws, and terrifying hunger.

  These are the fears that only scrappy merchants like us have to contend with. We have no phase-shift in my little vessel – for that you require an Orb-powered system. If we did, we could have instantly returned to Titus to sell our load. I could be sipping Adam’s whiskey by now.

  But, instead, we have to make the three-day voyage back to Titus on impulse power, somebody manning the controls at all times – usually me, taking shifts with Adam.

  “Put that bottle down, you’re going to be too shit-faced to drive,” I growl, my tone cold as I give Adam a stern look.

  He’s about to argue – perhaps emboldened by the three shots he’s already taken – when he thinks better of it. Adam corks the bottle.

  “Sure thing, boss. Hell, I’m just excited. That platinum is going to be worth a pretty penny. I can finally afford a little place of my own with my cut. What are you going to spend it on?”

  As captain and ship’s owner, I get the lion’s share of the profit. “I’m going to upgrade the ship.”

  Adam laughs. “Come on, live a little! You put every penny back into this hunk of junk.”

  I lovingly caress the metal console of my trusty ship. “True – but it’s worth it. Those upgrades to the teleporter are the reason we made so much this run.”

  I breathe in deeply, tasting the ozone in the processed air. I’m suddenly feeling like I’m on top of a mountain, and not in a good way. I furrow my eyes, looking down at monitors. Oxygen levels are at 100%, so I don’t know why I’m suddenly light-headed.

  “You feel a little dizzy, Adam? I’m worried about air quality.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe. I thought it was just good brew.”

  I purse my lips. “Take a look where the rock hit us. I’m worried we might be breached.”

  He rolls his eyes. “The AI can fix it.�
��

  “Now, Adam,” I snap, shaking my head. Half the time Adam’s full of bravado, but the other half he’s like a little kid. Still, as long as he gets the job done, I won’t ride him too hard.

  My scanner blinks red. There’s a clunk from the shield room. “Juliana? You getting this reading?” Jenson’s voice is urgent.

  “Yeah, I’m getting it!” I shout back. The comms-link is malfunctioning again, and it’s the last on my list to get repaired. That means we’re stuck shouting across the length of our ship in the meantime.

  Petty repairs are the last of my worries right now.

  The scanner light indicates that there’s another ship nearing us. I peer through the scratched glass of the cockpit, and see it in the distance.

  It’s a behemoth – a pitted mining ship that dwarfs our little vessel. I ache to someday own something like it. The riches you could gain with such a ship… The mass of platinum, gold and steel you could fill those holds with… I ache to sit on a huge pile of such riches, like a jealous dragon guarding its treasure.

  But those thoughts can wait. Grim reality comes first. We’re alone, in deep space, in the lawless fringes of the universe – and a huge, mysterious ship is bearing down on us fast.

  Deep beyond the reach of the authorities, a fully-loaded mining vessel like ours might make a tempting target for those of a larcenous persuasion.

  We can only hope that this ship belongs to a real mining corporation –not a mercenary, or – even worse – a pirate.

  The hulk approaches. I reach for the controls. It’s time to get ready to fight or flee.

  2

  Korgath

  My lieutenants sit at the table – the five most-trusted humans in my organization. I wish I still had my bonded triad at my side in these situations – but despite our mental connection, the two Aurelians bonded to me have long since forsaken me.