Page 41 of Tamed By the Alien Warlord
Jasmine replies with savage calm: “Too bad the algorithm is unstable.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Is it? Because you two seem … reinvigorated.”
I spin to face him, keeping protective posture over Lanz’s prone body. “Release us.”
He chuckles. “So naive. You sealed your fate when you sabotaged my experiment.”
Jasmine steps forward. Her voice low and deadly: “Fate is for fools.”
Nakamura waves a hand. “Sisters in arms—standing over your wounded warlord. How touching.”
I swallow a sob. “Don’t. Talk.”
He smiles, stepping closer. “Now, what shall we do with them? Marry them? Use them? Letting them walk off would be a waste.”
Jasmine’s voice is ice. “Let them go.”
His expression flickers—then melts into sneer. “If I release them, no warlord gives me the DNA I need. You, Captain, remain my path to evolution.”
I glance at Lanz. His breath is shallow. I taste desperation rising in my chest.
Nakamura’s cold eyes flick to Jasmine. “You can kill her, of course. Or you can comply.”
Jasmine takes a breath. Looks at me. I stand, heart pounding. “We comply,” I whisper to her. Her nod is small but firm.
Nakamura claps. “Well done. Now, Captain? Are you ready to bleed?”
At the exact moment the holoscreens blink in crescendo, Jasmine’s finger tightens on the trigger. The pistol recoils in her hand—it’s our final act of defiance.
BANG.The shot echoes through the bridge.BANG, BANG, BANG.Jasmine unloads, bullet after bullet tearing into Dr. Nakamura’s chest. The first round sends him stumblingbackward. He crashes to the floor, staring down at the red stain blooming across his pristine lab coat—like a grotesque rose on white silk.
He lifts a trembling finger, trying to speak. “You… don’t… understand…”
She steps forward again, releases the hammer until the clip clicks empty.
He doesn’t fall at once. He just lies there, eyes hollow, watching the life leave him. At last, his hands drop, eyes close—and the cruelty of his life’s work lies still and stranger than any of his horrors.
The ship’s alarms scream to silence.
And for one perfect heartbeat, there’s only us:
Jasmine, pistol smoking and steady.
Lanz, pale and shaking on the deck, still clinging to life.
Me—Georgia—heart pounding, voice caught in my throat.
We stare at each other, raw and naked in this moment of truth, before the bridge doors cave in and the Reapers pour in.
Outside,sparks rain over twisted consoles as the Reapers set the cruiser ablaze. Plasma charges boomerang through halls. Explosions rip open compartments. The siren of death becomes chorus, and we walk through it unbroken. Jasmine stays by my side, silent sentinel with steely purpose.
The warlord moves—half-carried by Gash and others—toward the exit. His one arm wraps around me suddenly. “Georgia… I—” His voice cracks like shattered glass before he collapses into their hold.
I grip Lanz’s good arm, fingers slick with blood. “He’s alive,” I say, half for him, half for me.
Jasmine nods, shoulders trembling. “He’ll survive.”
By the time we reach the docking bay, the cruiser is a hulking metal corpse, bleeding smoke across the Bay of Gur. The planet’s police hover-sentries arrive late, gun turrets aimed high but unmoved.
