Page 2 of Arakiba (Alien Legacy Brotherhood #3)

Chapter One

S wimming to consciousness was a never-ending battle. One minute he was on the brink of awareness, the next, a yawning abyss dragged him back into mind-numbing darkness. The relentless tug-of-war between consciousness and empty bliss soon became unbearable as a throbbing ache gnawed at him. His stomach twisted, nausea creeping in as his head pulled with the constant, vicious, never-ending struggle between light and shadow. After an eternity, he finally found the strength to open his eyes.

Sort of.

Stupid eyelids fluttered like a nervous butterfly wrestling against a high wind. And what did he get for all his efforts? A sharp, piercing pain that felt like his skull would blow off his shoulders.

Throwing his forearm over his face, he shielded his throbbing noggin from the weak, yet blinding, light. A groan rolled out from his scratchy, dry throat. Taking a chance, he flopped his arm to his side and peeked through slitted lids.

Well, shit. All that effort was totally worthless. High above him, a flickering glow of a malfunctioning light danced, creating erratic shadows that crisscrossed over rust-streaked metal walls. His nose twitched as the odor of burned wires and engine grease filled his nostrils, acrid and heavy. A sharp stench coated his mouth, leaving behind a vile aftertaste.

Sucking in a deep breath for courage, he opened his eyes wider. Where was he? Wait a goddess-damned minute . More importantly… who was he? The dull hum of engines reverberating through the floor didn’t supply any answers. It only provided a relentless, rhythmic vibration that echoed into his very bones. Every muscle ached as he pushed himself upright, his hands slipping on the slick, oil-smeared surface of a hard floor. He glanced at his splayed hands as if they held the secrets of the universe.

Nope. Nothing. He blinked. His only claim to fame was a humongous dose of zilch. Zero. Nada.

An oncoming wave of blankness threatened to suffocate him with a cold dose of hard reality. Forgotten memories pressed, clawing for attention at the edges of his mind. His heart pounded as a mix of confusion and unease threatened to take over. In stark desperation, he surveyed the wide, cluttered space, littered with abandoned tools and tangled cables.

A movement to his right caught his eye. It was… a person? Yes, that sounded right. A person crouched next to an enormous… machine? He blinked. And what was that person doing? He watched their profile as they tapped their fingers against full lips, their eyes narrowed at the tablet settled on the floor between their crossed legs. This person wore tan, one-piece, baggy overalls layered and streaked with grease and grime. Wild golden spirals that hid the side of their face escaped from some type of ball cap covering their head. Across the floor were strewn several unfamiliar items, arranged by size in precise, evenly spaced rows. Each object sat at a measured distance from each other.

Obviously, an obsessive-compulsive type. How many times had he teased… An elusive memory slipped through his mind—a man with dark skin who had a penchant for trying to make him into a methodical ass like he was…

Agony scorched his mind as he tried to recall what he almost remembered.

“Where are you, you bastard? I know you’re there…” That mumbling grouse from the mysterious person had a distinctly feminine tone. She shook the tablet.

Feminine? What… oh, that meant that person was female. Female. Woman, girl, lass, maiden, damsel… lover. Yes. That felt right.

Was he female? He glanced down at the strange clothing he wore. The black, stiff material covering his lower half was… jeans. Over his chest was a tight short-sleeved shirt in an airy material of the same dark color. T-shirt. He had on a T-shirt. He patted his chest, feeling the tight muscles under his hands. His covered feet caught his eye. On them was a clunky pair of… boots? Ah, the brand name filtered by. Doc Martens.

He glanced across the room. Nope. Not female. That meant he had to be a… male. Man, gentleman, masculine, lad, boy. Heh, he was no boy. That was easy to remember.

“You’re finally awake.”

He jumped. How did that woman end up in front of him so quickly? “Ah… yes?” He had no idea how to respond.

“Good, you speak English. Who are you?” Her fists were planted on her trim hips. She glared at him with narrowed eyes. Eyes that were a mesmerizing mixture of emerald green and brilliant gold. “What happened to you? Where are you from? Why were you on that ship?”

With a wry grin, he croaked. “English? Don’t know. Can’t remember. No clue. What ship?”

The woman snorted. “Humph. Okay, let’s try this slow and easy.” She crouched to meet him eye-to-eye. “What’s your name?”

A shot of pain pounded his temples, making him wince. He rubbed the right side of the offending area. His name? What was his name? “Ar… Ar…” He glanced at her for help. “I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?” Her disapproval was clear, with her eyebrows pulled close and down, creasing her forehead. She stood. “I refuse to go around calling you, Arr. It makes you sound like a stupid pirate or something.”

Pirate. A person who attacks and robs at sea.

Nope. At least he didn’t think so.

He shrugged and grimaced as the pain in his head slithered down the back of his neck. “Sorry, but I really don’t remember.” He glanced around. “Anything. Where am I anyway?” He focused on her.

She crossed her arms, shelving her full breasts on them.

Now, his mouth dried for a different reason. He cleared his throat. “And who might you be, lovely lady?”

The caramel complexion of her face flushed.

It was a toss-up if she was angry or embarrassed.

“Look, buster.” She pointed a finger at him. “Let’s get one thing straight from the get-go. The only reason you’re alive is because I pulled you out of that.” She directed her thumb behind her, over her shoulder.

There, on the other side of the room, was an immobile… spaceship?

“I don’t need or want you to flirt with me.”

Flirt? The definition eluded him. Not wanting to look like a total ignoramus, he focused on where she pointed.

Despite the weak light, the ship’s sleek design was unmistakable. The vessel had a seamless blend of elegant curves and smooth surfaces. Covering the hull was an iridescent sheen of organic materials that pulsated in gentle waves as if it were alive. Scorch marks and deep gouges marred its surface, clear evidence of a recent battle. Vines and tendrils snaked around obvious wounds, slowly knitting and repairing the damage. The ship’s organic form had a preternatural vibe, even battered like it was. All in all, it gave off a sense of resilience and quiet power.

Out of nowhere, information about the ship spewed out of his mouth. “It is an organic 11-15 that was created by the WOL, the ‘Warriors of Light’, for the previous Chancellor of the Federation Consortium. Its designation is Elemi .”

The woman’s eyebrows rose. “You can remember all that, but you can’t remember your own name?”

With a grunt, he stood on less-than-firm legs. He was tired of craning his neck to keep up with this weird conversation. He moved like an old man because his body screamed and ached in places he never knew existed. “What can I say?” He grimaced. “I’m a man of many talents, but knowing my name isn’t one of them.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms again.

Damn, he wished she’d stop doing that. The last thing he needed to do was ogle her tempting chest. He suspected that might be part of that flirting thing that irritated her before.

“Well, I guess I’ll just call you Ari. Okay?”

He almost shrugged, but stopped himself since the last time he did it made his headache worse. “Whatever.” He eyed her. Yeah, looking down at her was much easier for his aching head. Helped the pinch in his neck, too. “And what do I call you?”

Thankfully, she put her fists back on her hips. Too bad it didn’t stop the urge he had to watch her chest rise and fall with each breath she took.

“You can call me Morgan.” She waved an expressive hand around her. “I guess it’s up to me to welcome you to the Nebula Viper, the supposed best smuggling ship this side of the galaxy.”

The Hidden City of Aethralis in Antarctica, two months ago

“I swear to God, Morgan, you go out of your way to piss him off.”

Morgan snorted. No, no, she didn’t. He was just a stubborn old coot who never took her seriously. “Look, Seren. I’m tired of the High Guardian and his minions thinking we shouldn’t get involved with anything outside the city. Especially when it concerns humans.” She stopped walking and glared at her friend. “We could’ve ended the Akurn invasion before they got close enough to do the damage they did. I only want to prevent something like that from happening again.”

She ground her back teeth at the memory of what those asshole aliens almost did to Earth. No matter how hard she and her small group of allies urged the ruling council to act against the invasion, their pleas were dismissed every time.

“We will not get involved,” High Guardian Rummeh had stated in a flat, no-nonsense tone. “Not only for the good of Earth, but for the entire galaxy. We don’t have the luxury of taking our attention off Tartarus, that holds the Titans, for even a minute.”

Then the man had the nerve to chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Inanna and her people have things under control.”

Take today. She’d gone to the council to tell them about the newest threat that had happened to her the previous night. As a reward for her efforts, the jerks gave her a hefty dose of humiliation, dismissing her without a second thought. As if they didn’t deem her smart enough to recognize a disastrous threat when it fell into her lap.

Well, didn’t that just sum up her whole life in one hard reality? Treated like an outsider in their psionic society. One who fell short because of her painfully limited psychic abilities. Her only claim to fame was having xenoglossy, the capacity to understand and speak a language after hearing a few words spoken. It took longer for her to read a foreign language, since her brain needed a little extra time to sort through and unravel the written word.

Seren chuckled. “Yeah, you’re lucky your grandfather, the High Guardian, didn’t put you into solitary for having the nerve to argue with him like that.” She nudged Morgan’s shoulder. “Good thing he’s fond of you.”

“He’s too old to be my grandfather,” Morgan automatically argued. While she couldn’t deny she was one of his direct descendants, she was too uncomfortable with the immense age gap between them to use such a common title. Since he was a pureblood Akurn who lived one year for every 3,600 years that passed on Earth, she always had a hard time wrapping her head around the man’s actual age. Not that he’d ever confessed how old he was to her or anyone else.

“You always say that.” Seren chuckled, closing the high collar of her long, elegant coat to activate the heating unit within it. The luminescent designs on the coat displayed her status within their community.

Even deep within the ice shelves of the city, the temperature tended to fluctuate at the oddest times.

Morgan did the same and breathed a sigh of relief when her similarly styled clothing and boots wrapped her in welcoming warmth. Tired of the same old argument, she changed the subject. “Well, I’m sick and tired of him not taking me seriously. Why can’t he see this as an additional threat from aliens outside our solar system like I do?”

Although she expected Seren’s deep sigh, it still hurt.

“Because, my dear friend, the only concern we have here in Aethralis is keeping the Titans under wraps. If they ever got out, we’d all be toast. And not just those of us on Earth.” Seren stopped and gripped Morgan’s upper arm, her clear, sky-blue eyes sure and steady. “Besides, I’m sure Queen Inanna and her crew have done their due diligence and made sure the alien Zerin running the exchange program made it more than safe.”

“Safe? Ha! Not only did those aliens hack into my eReader here in Aethralis, but they somehow took me to their ship orbiting Earth while I was sleeping! Then they had the nerve to offer me a place in their so-called exchange program to find an alien mate. As if I needed their help to find a man.” Morgan snorted and glared off into the distance. “What’s bothering me is, how’d they do that? We’ve been told all our lives that the shield protecting Aethralis would prevent anyone from finding us, much less take someone from here without anyone knowing.” She snorted again. “In desperation, I agreed to go with them, otherwise they’d have wiped my mind of the whole thing. Lucky for me, they let me come back to get my affairs in order before I left with them.”

“Hmm, I’m glad they let you come back. I’d hate for you to disappear without me knowing where you went. I’d have been sick with worry.” Seren let go of her arm, and they resumed walking back to their section of the private sector of the city. “But if the High Guardian doesn’t think the exchange is a problem, why do you?”

How could she put into words the powerful feeling inside her, knowing her psychic abilities fell short compared to the gifted population of Aethralis? She’d had no precognition potential before. Why now?

Morgan hung her head and watched her feet move on the icy ground. The non-slip soles of her white boots gave her excellent traction on the slippery surface.

With a heartfelt sigh, she glanced at her friend and secretly envied Seren’s delicate beauty. While they shared the same caramel skin tone, Seren’s white-blond hair was thick and straight, while hers was a messy conglomerate of spiral curls that were hard to control. Damn stuff had a mind of its own, no matter how much product she put in it.

“It’s hard to explain.” Morgan admitted. “But I can’t let it go. I’ve got to join that exchange and find out if I’m right or not. Not that anyone but you care if I’m here or not.” With the ease of practice, she thrust the pain of losing her parents back to the deep pit where it belonged. Stopping, she took Seren’s gloved hands in hers. “But I need you to promise me something.”

Seren’s clear blue eyes narrowed. “You’re going to leave no matter what I say, aren’t you? Even though the High Guardian warned you what would happen if you did.”

Morgan squirmed under her friend’s direct stare, but met her glare with one of her own.

After a moment of staring at each other, Seren closed her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, you win. You know I’ll do whatever you ask. What is it?”

“Give it at least a day before you let them know I’m gone.” Morgan grimaced. “By then, I’ll be in deep space. Hopefully far away enough that my grandfather can’t make good on any of his threats.”

Seren chuckled. “I doubt that even if you made it to the other side of the galaxy, it’d stop him. You know how persistent he is.”

Sighing, Morgan nodded. “Yeah, if nothing else, that’s something I inherited from the stubborn ass.”

Aboard the Zerin spaceship StarChance en route to the Alien Exchange, two weeks later

Morgan poked her head out of her cabin, looking left and right to make sure all was clear. Satisfied no one was around, she slid out and waited until the doors whispered closed behind her. Holding her breath, she concentrated on listening for sounds that might alert her someone was coming.

She grimaced at her whimsy. The golden walls and floors of the StarChance appeared solid, but had a soft, underlying feel to it. Firm enough to hold its shape, yet gentle enough to absorb the sound of her footsteps. Well, now was as good a time as any. Gripping her multicorder smuggled from Aethralis, she checked out the schematics she’d downloaded from the ship’s computer. Widening the section she was interested in, she memorized the way there. All right, just a couple of decks below this one. Not that this was the first time she’d seen the layout. For the last couple of days, she’d diligently studied the workings of the ship in preparation for this chance to sneak around. The schematics written in Zerin were the only thing that took her extra time to learn. While most Earth languages had some common syntax, the Zerin language didn’t.

At first, she relied on the translation injection the Zerin host gave her to understand what they said. But after a few days, she used the multicorder to eliminate the pesky potion from her system. It had gotten to where she was hearing double in her head whenever any of the aliens spoke to her. With her natural xenoglossy ability to hear and understand languages, she’d rather go natural than have the annoying foreign substance in her system.

Now that she could read and speak like a native, she studied everything she could about the ship during her off hours, since the Zerins put her and a hundred other women through vigorous training during the day.

While most of the areas in the vessel had known uses, there was a subsection deep in the bowels of the ship that didn’t have any designation on the diagrams she’d downloaded.

Looked like that might be a great place to start tonight. Her urge to continue checking things out had only grown stronger since she came aboard. On the surface, it looked like the Zerin race was legit about their offer to take women to an exchange program to find alien mates. But still, something was off. Something she was bound and determined to uncover.

Yeah, take that, Grandfather. Won’t it shock the crap out of you when I prove I’m right?

Heart racing, she bypassed the common elevator and headed straight for a service shaft only used by the Zerin for emergencies.

Changing the mode on her handheld, she pointed it at the entrance panel that needed a Zerin handprint to open it. Clicking the multicorder at the port, she gave the latch a satisfied smirk when it slid open. Yeah, that’s right. Here goes.

Activating the flashlight on the multicorder, she aimed it into the black hole. Instead of rungs like those built on Earth, this one had a solid-looking floor disk large enough for one to use as an elevator. All she had to do was step on it, and it would light up and take her anywhere she wanted to go with just a verbal command.

“Sh’a‘gaa.” Morgan said the Zerin word for “down” in a confident tone. She then gave the command to take her to the unused section.

The disk beneath her feet seamlessly dropped. Leaning back on the railing provided, she jotted down what she’d experienced in her multicorder, and recorded a vid to document everything. That way, if she ever had to re-look at something, she’d have it handy.

The descent slowed before lurching to the right. A few more moments, and the device stopped. The panel doors opened to a sea of blackness. With a grunt, she pointed the light on her multicorder and swung it left and right. So far, empty corridor. Dusty, with a heavy smell of disuse, but empty.

She opened the visual mode on her handheld to study the schematics again. Down to the left, the narrow hallway ended. But if she went right, there should be several supposedly empty bays. Listed as available storage units.

Except, now that she switched the flashlight off, an ominous low light down the hallway caught her attention. Aha! And why was there a light over there? This had to be the reason for her unease since boarding. Yes, the suffocating urge to head that way almost overrode her common sense. Shaking her head to clear it, she returned the multicorder to the harness on her belt and headed toward the light. Keeping her back to the wall to remain as flat as possible, she concentrated on keeping her footsteps silent. The floor here was just plain, old-fashioned metal of some sort. Not the spongy, quiet stuff on the above decks.

As she neared the lighted open bay, she stopped to listen. At first, the only sound was a low, audible whine. Pulling out the multicorder again, she activated it to record. She watched the screen, and it wavered before it displayed a conversation taking place on a psychic level.

“Attention. Directive. You are to receive human females from the Zerin operative. Place each in stasis aboard your assigned ship.”

A different decibel in the sound indicated another speaker. “Destination?”

“FiPan. Deliver to Dred Pirate Maynwaring. Return to StarChance for another cycle. Do not deviate,“ the first one answered.

A third voice. “Zerin operative. Trustworthy?”

“Zerin operative irrelevant. Task execution is primary objective,” the first voice answered.

This one had to be the leader.

“Maintain communication. Report status upon delivery. No deviations tolerated.”

“FiPan environment. Precautions?” The second voice spoke again.

“Standard protocol. Avoid local interaction. Deliver and return. No deviations.”

The quiet shuffling of what had to be bare feet on the floor followed.

Morgan waited, making sure they didn’t say anything else. When all was quiet, she took a few steps to the side. Not wanting her voice to carry, she frantically typed into her handheld. Good thing she’d downloaded all the data the Zerin ship carried.

Analyze conversation to determine species.

It didn’t take long to get an answer. Her stomach dropped as she read through it.

Description: The Friebbigh are male/female hybrids originally from the planet Fibona in the North-Western section of the galaxy. They are gray in skin color with a large bulbous head and have enormous almond eyes with a black pupil. Two vertical slits for a nose and one small horizontal slit for a mouth. Small in stature, around 4‘5“ tall, with thin, stick-like arms and legs. They are adorned in a skintight outer-suit that is the same color as their waxy gray skin, giving the appearance of wearing no outer garments. They communicate telepathically with each other but refrain from doing so with all other species, which they deem inferior. To converse with other races, they have a “voice box” attached to their suit that transmits their thoughts into speech. Nothing is known about their reproductive process.

Warning : The Friebbigh rank as notorious criminals within the Federal Consortium. Wanted for arms dealing, kidnapping, slavery, and war crimes. Authorities suspect them in multiple unsolved assassination attempts against members of the known civilized factions. It is against Consortium law to interact with this species in any manner other than to kill or arrest. Any other form of interaction constitutes treason. All perpetrators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

Wow, this was worse than she imagined. Known criminals here on the StarChance , ready and willing to kidnap human women. Without overthinking it, she sent everything she’d downloaded to her grandfather in Aethralis, even though it would take weeks for it to get to him.

She ended the missive by saying she wouldn’t report her findings to the captain of the StarChance since the Friebbigh indicated they had a Zerin operative. No telling who that was. She’d have to dig deeper first.

Turning to head back to the service elevator, she almost ran into one of them. Squealing like a dolphin in pain, it held up its spindly fingers and waved them in the air. Before she could knock the creature out, a burning, sharp pain pierced her neck. Slapping her hand over the offended spot, she turned to see an unknown female Zerin behind her. The only thing she grasped was the female’s deep red-wine colored hair and a long, clear cylinder device held in her three-fingered hand.

“Sleep well, human .“ The Zerin sneered.

Too bad the stupid alien didn’t know Morgan wasn’t all human.

Present Day aboard the spaceship Nebula Viper

Ari eyed the small streak of grease on Morgan’s cheek. The temptation to feel her smooth skin against his was almost hard to resist. The only way to keep from touching her was to clench his hands into tight fists.

He tilted his head with a wide smile. “Morgan, eh?”

“Ari, eh?” Morgan returned his smile.

Ari chuckled with a shrug. “I guess so.” He scratched the side of his head and glanced around the cluttered bay before focusing back on her. “So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this?” He favored her with his best sultry smile and heavy-lidded gaze. At least he assumed it was his best. Hard to know.

Instead of his actions warming her up, her golden-green eyes narrowed. Her full lips turned downward into a harsh frown.

Ouch.

“I told you, we don’t have time for that crap.” She sliced her hand through the air. “The Ozevroc will show up before we know it, to see if you’re alive. And I’ve got to finish something first.”

Ari’s eyebrows rose. “Ozevroc? What’s that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hang on. Let me finish this before we get into that.”

Morgan thumbed behind herself to the place he’d first seen her sitting on the floor in front of an open panel on a large machine standing away from the metal wall. Without another word, she went back to it and sat cross-legged in front of it. Picking up a thick cylinder from the floor, she bowed her head over the open panel, pursed her full lips, and clicked on a thin blue light on the cylinder. It pulsated as if repairing something inside.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out she’d zoned him out.

Glancing around, Ari looked for a chair to sit on. He rotated his shoulders, trying to loosen the ache. The last thing he wanted was to sit on a hard floor. Spying a square metal block against another wall, he went over and brought it near the woman, who was lost in concentration. Placing the block opposite her, he sat, leaning his back against the wall so he could keep her in sight. His tight thigh muscles screamed in protest, which he acknowledged with a grimace.

The silence stretched between them. Ari opened his mouth to break it, but she spoke first.

“The best way to describe the aliens that run this P.O.S. ship is they’re typical gangsters.”

He tilted his head. “P.O.S.? What’s that?” An elusive memory came and went of a man smirking when Ari uttered that at one time.

Morgan kept her eyes on her work, but a slight smile poked free. “It’s short for piece of shit . This ship—“ Her head rose as her golden-green eyes glanced around. ”—is the home base for their criminal activities. Their main claim to fame is smuggling.“ She scowled and put down her tool and picked up another. This one was larger and rectangle shaped. “The little creeps are all about greed. Their only known weakness is how much they admire strength and cunning. Especially within their own people. They’re known to promote any of them who double-deals with another species and ends up not suffering any consequences for the betrayal.”

Ari’s stomach rolled. Well, that didn’t sound like anyone he wanted to get friendly with. He hated to ask, but… “So, what do they smuggle?” He suspected he already knew.

“Goods, people, weapons, and a host of other things. Their favorite is taking any sentient species they can get their grubby little hands on to sell on the black market.” Her answer was prompt and said in an absentminded tone. She squinted at the tool she held before glancing at him. “Especially humans whom they consider rare and valuable.”

“Humans?” Another slippery memory floated by. This time, he stood in the middle of a crowd on a busy street, and the feeling of being overwhelmed rushed back. He remembered the solid feel of the sidewalk, the concrete beneath his feet, solid but vibrating with the constant thrum of passing cars and trucks. A thick sea of bodies moved around him, and a chaotic tide of hurried footsteps sounded as fragmented conversations filled the air. Neon signs flickered overhead and cast garish reflections on the shop windows accompanied by the piercing wails of sirens that pierced the cacophony. His chest tightened as he relived the stale stench of exhaust fumes combined with the overpowering scent of cooked street food.

In his memory, he’d held his breath when he looked up. He became dizzy as he gaped at the towering buildings that surrounded him. Their shadows pressed down as if the sky itself was closing in. A lingering remembrance of feeling small and trapped in the bustling and unyielding cityscape made his heart pound.

“Ari?”

He jumped. The sound of Morgan’s voice made him blink, pulling him out of the recollection.

“You okay?” she asked with drawn eyebrows. Her connecting stare held him.

Ari swallowed hard. “Yeah.” He cleared his dry throat. “Just peachy.” Peachy? He rubbed his pounding temple. What the hell kind of word was that? He dropped his hand onto his lap and met her gaze head-on. The stupid metal crate he sat on dug into his ass and thighs.

“Are you one of their slaves?” He squirmed, searching for a more comfortable position.

Morgan’s grin wasn’t happy. “Yeah, and so are you.” She fondled the thick, black collar around her neck.

He hadn’t noticed that before. Startled, he reached up to his own neck. Yep, he had the same thing nestled against his skin. “What’s this?”

“That, my clueless friend, is a nutesh snare. It’s a painful reminder that we’re under someone else’s control.“ She resumed working, her lips pursed as she delved into the open panel again.

Ari frowned. “I don’t understand. If we’re slaves, why are we out in the open in this, ah, room?”

For the first time, he took a long, hard look at his surroundings. The place had an eclectic mix of machinery of every kind scattered around. He ignored the most amazing thing there, the silent, hulking spaceship at the far side of the room, sitting still and ominous. Instead, he studied the overhead dim lightning that cast long shadows, turning a maze of cables and conduits along the ceiling and walls into a tangled mess. Tools lay scattered across the floor, and not just around Morgan. He spied a wrench-looking thing teetering on the edge of a grated walkway above him.

The hum of the Nebula Viper’s engine vibrated through the walls, a rhythmic pulse that matched the flickering overhead lights. Loose wires dangled through several open panels on every wall. Occasional sparks around the room sent out puffs of ozone into the stale air. Overall, the place had to be held together by sheer luck and duct tape.

“They need me to fix this mess.” Morgan waved her tool around her. “Idiots don’t have an engineer among them, so I’m worth more to them doing this than selling me to someone else.” Her golden-emerald gaze trapped him. “And I convinced them I needed help when they found you. I don’t suppose you have any mechanical talents, do you?”

A sour taste coated his mouth. “I have no idea.” He studied the open panel she was working on. “But nothing in there looks familiar.”

Her sigh made chills run down his spine. Was she going to hand him over to their captors?

“Well, it was a long shot at best.” Morgan gave him a narrow glare. “Until you get your memory back, think you can do what I tell you so we can keep you out of a cage?” She pointed her tool at him.

“Hey, no worries.” Ari put his hands up in surrender, his chest lighter. “I may not know much about myself, but I’m sure I’m good at taking orders.”

Fingers crossed.