“Ask the ship.” I punched in a code to reroute more power to the shields, which were down to fifty percent.
“Ship, who is shooting at us?” Zara talked to the air in an innocent way that made me want to kiss her. Again. I assumed they didn’t have voice activated ships on Earth.
We were being attacked, we were naked—I was mostly, and Zara was completely—and I was smiling. Either I was going insane, or Zara was some kind of miracle. “The ship’s name is Shadow.”
She looked to me, arched her pale eyebrow in question. When I didn’t reply, she asked, “Shadow, who is shooting at us?”
“Zara of Earth, I do not recognize your authority to—” My ship was an ass.
“It knows who I am?” Zara’s eyes widened.
“Shadow, respond to Zara,” I commanded. “Authorization Isaak nine seven Trion echo three.”
“Acknowledged.” The ship’s system processed my order to allow Zara access to commands. “We are being pursued by a stealth class, Spectra Five ship with Cerberus Legion coding.”
“Uh oh. That sounds like the blue lady is still really mad about the whole titan stick incident.” Zara laughed. “I should have shoved it up her ass.”
My hand froze on the way to the weapons panel, and I had to blink twice. Hard. I was not used to a female who spoke in such a way, even if it was something I wanted to do myself. I activated my ion cannon. It wasn’t the Spectra IV ion cannon, but whoever was chasing us wasn’t going to like it. “Shadow, light ‘em up.”
“Shooting to kill, Captain.” I heard the sounds of the blasters, but the structural stabilizers minimized the vibrations.
Zara turned to look at me. “What did he just say?”
It was my turn to laugh. “I did a bit of specialty programming.” I watched with great satisfaction as the ship which had been following us disengaged and a few seconds later disappeared from radar. “Hunting Hive ships can be intense. I couldn’t stand all of the official language and protocol.”
Zara smiled at me as she inspected every inch of my bare body.
“Proximity alert cancelled. They are running scared. Should I pursue?”
Normally, if we were hunting Hive, I would say yes. Hive parts were my livelihood, and I couldn’t normally let them get away. But this time, I was the one being hunted. Or, rather, Zara was. It sure as fark wasn’t me. And I didn’t care for the feeling of being prey. “Negative. Get us to Transport Station Zenith as fast as you can.”
“Lighting my ass on fire, Captain.”
I checked the readings for damage, relieved to find there was little to none from the surprise attack. My ship was small but heavily armored and fast as they came.
“They’ll be back, won’t they?” she asked, glancing out the window as if she could see the craft that had been attacking.
I leaned back and unhooked my straps. Zara did the same. When she was free of the restraints, I stood and lifted her to her feet to stand before me. Her breasts with those small gold hoops and chain were right in front of my face. Fark.
“Who are you?”
She frowned. “I already told you.”
Slowly, I shook my head. “No. Who are you? Why are you being followed? You’re not just an Interstellar Bride. You can’t be. What does Cerberus Legion want from you?”
It made no sense. A female who’d only arrived in space was wanted—and chased—by Cerberus legion from Rogue 5.
“I have no idea.”
Tilting her head up so I could look directly into her eyes, I asked again. “Zara, no female is worth this much trouble. Even a female from Earth wouldn’t be worth the fuel and the missiles they fired at my ship. What aren’t you telling me?”
She shook her head before I finished speaking. “I swear, I have no idea. I signed up to be an Interstellar Bride, to get out of the shitshow that my life had turned into. I took the test, woke up on Trion, and Bertok was there, waiting to kill my mate. That’s all I know.”
She seemed sincere, but something wasn’t right. “What about your life on Earth? Are you royal? Would they want to ransom you to a wealthy family?”
That made her grunt with apparent disdain then begin to laugh. “God, could you imagine?” she asked although it seemed to be a rhetorical question, so I remained quiet. “I grew up poor, Isaak. Ghetto. We never had money. I didn’t go to college. My neighborhood was run by gangs and drug dealers. Even the cops steered clear. I’m not special. I’m nobody.”
The final