Page 8 of Fighting Gravity
“Right, and I want to know what kind of genetic research. Chase them down.”
My crew was a defiant lot. They were quick to offer their opinions and even quicker to question mine. But, unlike most uroks, I valued that about them. Unless, of course, time was of the essence. In the end, I was still the one in charge. Each one of them bore a scar that almost took their life and each of those scars was from me. Urok wasn’t a position a gek could gain through experience alone or votes from the people. It was taken through violence and force.
And violence was my second language.
Catching up to the shuttle was easy. A simple blast of energy and the ship was stranded and free to grab, so we did. We started to pull it in when Crex made a face like he’d finally found an equation he couldn’t solve.
“Sir, they’re uh… they’re hailing us.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as he slapped the message from the shuttle up on the command table for all of us to see.
A human began shouting what I assumed were profanities at me. By the looks of her, she was female. I’d only seen holo vids and still images of the species, but the sexes were fairly easy to tell apart. I didn’t know many human words yet, but I knew enough to know she was challenging me. My smile widened, my head cocking to the side with curiosity.
In my own language, I said, “Your ship is mine.”
She continued her insults, getting louder and more dramatic as she kept on.
“You’re quite feisty. Perhaps we can talk about this after I throw you in a holding cell.”
When coms were cut off, my whole crew was chuckling with amusement behind me. I was eager to meet her, even if just to kill her later when she had nothing else to give.
“The shuttle is secure,” Crex said, standing from her seat.
“Stay here,” I demanded. “Umos and Veron, with me.”
My men stood without question as Crex folded back into his seat. I could tell he was eager to see the humans. None of us had ever met one in person, but he’d get a chance soon enough when we brought them on board.
Once we reached the cargo bay, all three of us slipped respirators over our mouths. I wasn’t entirely certain whether or not humans carried any transmittable diseases, so it was logical to bring Veron so she could do a quick scan for contaminants.
After descending to the bottom level of the ship, we trekked along a thin, metal overpass to a ramp leading into the cargo hold.
“Umos,” I said, coming to the shuttle.
He jogged forward, slapping a magnetic lynch to the ramp, and hauled the thing down manually, groaning at the exertion. Once the shuttle was opened, Veron and I marched up the ramp, no weapons drawn. We didn’t need them.
The first human I spotted in the dark shuttle was thin and small. She rushed toward me with a metal slab in her hands and screamed ferociously. I reached out and ripped the slab from her grip, tossing it aside with a loud clank. The other females began throwing objects at us from across the shuttle.
No sense in drawing out the struggle. I crouched as the female flailed her arms at me and tossed her body over my shoulder, lifting her off the ground. She weighed so little and I wondered if her bones were hollow.
She screamed and kicked, spitting more insults at me.
“Quinn!” came another voice.
The word was gibberish like all the others, but as it was repeated, I realized it was a name.
I carried the woman off the shuttle when suddenly the proximity alarms started to scream through my ship. Veron and Umos jumped off the ramp.
“Incoming vessel,” Crex said over my wrist com. “It’s a valerian ship.”
I groaned. “Drek. Get us out of here.”
As soon as we reached the lift, a giant hole ripped into the cargo bay, tearing the outer wall clean off. The lift doors slid closed just as the vacuum began sucking things out of our storage nets. The energy shields would activate in seconds, but by then, the shuttle would be gone.
It did not matter. I’d gotten one human at least. Of course, three would have been better. I wasn’t sure how resilient they were. With three, I would have spares if one died during interrogation.
My captive was struggling like a peveri serpent on my shoulder trying to escape.
But I could best a peveri. If I couldn’t, I would not have a shard of one’s tooth through my ear as a trophy.
