Page 53 of Claimed By the Alien Assassin
Blood hammers against my ribs. I pace, boots clicking—only thing keeping me from pacing wildly. “Suicide.”
Her mouth quirks. “With stolen fusion blocks, we force-launch the ship before the Vortaxians can lock ground control. It becomes a bomb in orbit—or at least disables their supply chain.”
I stop, grip the console edge. “If one timer fails or feed valve… boom. We’re inside a pressure vessel melting in space.”
She shrugs—flat, fearless. “Well. We weren’t planning to live forever, right?”
I swallow the acid in my throat.
“This night, we do two things: takethemaway from us, and show colonists we can winbig. Tell them it’s not just survival—it’s reclamation.”
Distant thrum of rebel boots echoes in the corridor—the tremor of souls choosing hope. I look at Josie . . . how she stands there, luminous in conviction.
I grit my jaw. “Am I insane for wanting to help?”
A playful spark flashes across her eyes. “Let’s call it truth.”
I exhale slow. “Truth is this: I live for chaos. But this . . . this isall annihilation in a single breath.”
She smiles faintly. “Then make it count.”
We assemble in the shuttle bay minutes later—Hargon, Tessa, two teens from the ridge, and us. Trenches of tension etch every face. Fuel lines hiss. Engines rumble cold.
We gear up in salvage-plate armor—too heavy for boarding but necessary for interior burst hazards. I strap on an old plasma pistol, the weight familiar and reassuring.
Josie taps my arm. “You okay?”
I nod, throat tight. “If we do this, there’s no coming back.”
She cups my jaw with one scaled-fingertip. “Come back with me.” Her voice trembles just enough that I believe her.
At docking time, our stolen transfer craft settles onto the ship’s underbelly. Magnetic tethers lock with a click. It smells of anti-freeze and burning ozone—recycled god-knows-how-often.
Inside, we move like predators: delayed lights flicker overhead. They’ve gutted the crew quarters for the gala, so most corridors are empty. My pulse hammers—this is malevolent poetry.
I cover Josie’s flank as she hacks a console, bypassing security feeds.
“Fusion blocks in place?” I whisper.
She nods, lines of concentration carved across her brow.
We advance toward the core—an infernal room humming with reactors and thrusters, humming lullabies of death. She slams open panels, begins rigging charges. Sparks hiss. The heat is oppressive—like a furnace tailored for dying.
Tessa covers the door. Hargon sets the timing sync. I stand watch, gun drawn, adrenaline and terror coiling in my chest like twin serpents.
Josie’s voice cuts the haze: “Four minutes to launch — then we eject.”
My jaw clenches. “We just hijack them?”
She grins—bright enough it could melt steel. “We smuggle their pride into the void.”
Footsteps—metal on alloy. Not ours. They’ve returned early. Four Vortaxian crew materialize at the corridor mouth. Their stances are disciplined; recognition flickers.
Tessa steps up. “Issue with docking.”
The officer steps forward, pistol raised. “What are you doing here?”
I raise mine instantly. “Clear the hall—now.”
