Page 4 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

“Nevvers.” I shake my head. “I’m getting my jewel back. Come and get me,’’ I growl.

Surely that’s an instruction they can follow? We might not have worked together for a long time, since we established the colony on Vorostor once it became clear the wormhole which sent us to the arse-end of the universe had closed permanently, but my fellow Sarkarnii captains, now warlords of this galaxy instead, have the skills to deal with a straightforward mission like this one.

The shuttle docks with the Bloar mothership and I slam through the nearest airlock with extreme prejudice. These nevvers are going to find out what happens when you cross a Sarkarnii warlord.

“You heard Darax,”Dalox snarls.“Go get him. I have other things to do.”

Given I wasn’t expecting him to be involved in this, it doesn’t surprise me in the least he has no interest in seeing it through to the end, even if it benefits him to deal with this particular group of Bloar pirates.

My comm whines as we breach the atmosphere, and I pull it off my head and slam my fist against the ship wide announcement.

“It’s time to face the justice of the Sarkarnii,” I roar. “Give up, and we’ll spare your miserable lives.”

My words echo around the ship. A pulsar bolt zips over my head and pings off a bulkhead.

“Have it your way.” I release a sheet of flame which scorches down the passage, to a chorus of screeches. “You were warned, and if this is the way you wish to end it, so be it.”

KERRA

Afireball hits the shrimp advancing on me and, with a shriek I know is going to haunt my dreams forever, it’s blown to one side, curling up into a ball before rolling away.

I scramble to my feet.

“Rosalie!” I hiss as loudly as I can. I get no response other than a low whooshing sound which is cut off suddenly. “Rosalie?” I take a risk and peer into the passage where I last saw her.

It’s empty.

I scuttle up the passage, knocking on each door as I go until I reach the one where I last saw Rosalie.

The knock rings hollow. A red symbol appears on it, one I can’t read even if somehow both Rosalie and I can understand alien languages, but it’s pretty clear through the small porthole in the door what the egg shape dropping away from the slab side of a ship means.

Rosalie ended up in an escape pod. She’s tumbling through space right now.

The entire ship shudders and a loud clang echoes through the entire place. I still don’t know where the flame came fromto cook the shrimp, and I’m not sure I want to know. But these noises and sounds don’t bode well either.

I have to get off this ship and somehow find Rosalie.

I scrabble at the other doorways, kicking and punching at them, but it’s clear they’re not unlocking any time soon, so I can’t use any of them to follow my friend. Tears threaten my eyes. This situation was bad enough when there were two of us.

Another blast of hot air hits me. It’s not the same flame which cooked the shrimp, but it carries with it a strong smell of smoke…along with something else. Something not unpleasant, a faint spice perhaps. But given all we’ve been smelling during our time on board is alien farts, just about anything has to smell better.

With a trembling hand, I pull out my hand-drawn map. There is an airlock, or at least Rosalie said it was an airlock, not too far from where I am. I doubt very much if it’ll present a way off this ship, but as the escape pods are not going to work for me, I have to do something.

Anything.

I pocket the map, and having checked the coast is clear, I leave the still steaming body of the shrimp and creep along the open passage towards the airlock. The smoke gets thicker the further I go, and a further fear grips me about the ship being on fire.

What happens to a ship on fire in space? Does it go out? Does it implode? These are the sort of questions Rosalie would answer. But she’s not here.

I hold back a pathetic sob. It wasn’t like I had much in this universe, but having a friend anywhere is a good thing.

The smoke swirls around me, and within it are huge, dark shapes, much bigger than any of the aliens I’ve seen so far.

“That’s not a Bloar,” a voice rasps through the air. “What is it?”

I turn, ready to run, and instead slam into a hard abdomen. The impact, like before, sends me skidding backwards on my bum until I hit the side of the ship.

The smoke clears as if sucked outside, and I find I’m looking up at a creature so very different from the seafood I’ve seen so far.

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