Page 23 of Her Alien Cyborgs (The Drift: Haven Colony #10)

“Is that you, Hezza?” someone called from behind a closed door.

When it opened, Fyr’enth got his first look at a living Jeskyran.

He was almost as tall as they were, but far more slender.

Long thorns jutted out from his shoulders with shorter clusters distributed over the rest of his body.

His skin was orange mottled with yellow, and he wore nothing but a loincloth that hung halfway to his knees.

“Hey, Flek. You’re looking good.” Hezza raised her hand in greeting. “Still enjoying your own cooking too much?”

The male patted his naked stomach, carefully avoiding the thorns. “You know it.”

“Flek, before we get down to the serious business of pizza and beer, I want to introduce you to someone. This is Kalan and Fyr’enth.” She paused and then said, “They’re my mahoyen . My mates.”

The Jeskyran beamed and threw his hands in the air. “Wonderful news! Congratulations!” As he spoke, he shook his hands and fingers rapidly. “Your drinks I buy. The pizza you buy.”

Hezza raised her own hands and briefly shook them in Flek’s direction. “Thank you. I’ll have an ale. Since these two are new, why don’t you set them up with two flights of your best?”

“We’ll take a seat while you make dinner. Then we can talk.”

“Yes. Yes.” Flek pointed to a table in the back corner. “So you can watch the door. Yes?”

“You know me too well.”

Once the owner had vanished back into the kitchen, they sat down at the table. It had a bench on one side, but two stools on the other, which meant they could all sit comfortably.

“What was...” Kalan shook his hands in imitation of Flek. “That?

“His race doesn’t hug or touch each other much because of the thorns. They use their hands to express their emotions. That was his way of showing excitement and celebrating with us.”

“Ah.” Kalan nodded.

It did make sense. The clusters of thorns would make any kind of physical contact problematic.

Flek reappeared before they could ask any more questions. He busied himself behind the counter for several minutes before coming out with a tray with one large glass of amber liquid and two sets of smaller glasses.

“Ale for you,” he set the larger glass down in front of Hezza.

“And flights for you two.” He placed the smaller collection of glasses down and then pointed to each glass in turn.

“A honey lager. A golden ale. This is a berry stout, and this,” he pointed to the last glass, which held a dark, froth-covered liquid.

“This is a chocolate porter. Very good.”

Then he looked at Hezza. “Your pizzas are in the oven now. We have time to talk. I made them early because you are regular. Like a clock. Not like some other customers.”

He didn’t sit down, but he did move closer, his eyes never leaving the door.

“You seem uneasy, friend,” Hezza said.

“Strange things happen. Too many new faces. Too many questions. It may be time for me to move on.” His thin lips almost vanished as he grimaced.

“You should move to The Drift. A new station is opening there. Defiance. Plenty of hungry customers.” She winked. “And not just for pizza.”

The Jeskyran nodded. “A friend suggested this to me before. But he said come to Astek Station.” He flicked out his fingers. “But that blew up. Might happen again.”

“It might. But you have to go somewhere,” Hezza pointed out.

“I will think about it. Now is not the time for my problems. Tell me about yours.”

Hezza explained their situation, somehow keeping most of the details to herself while still painting a clear picture of their issues.

She finished by saying, “So, I need information sent to Haven. It will need to be secure and heavily encrypted. I’ll pay. It also has to get there fast. Know any couriers who could handle the job?”

Flek nodded rapidly. “Do. Do. Anything else?”

Hezza slid the data stick across the table to Flek. “I need another copy sent to a former IAF colonel named Scott Archer. His ship’s the Bat Out of Hell 2 . You remember Phyl Harrington? She married him and another fellow, Garrett Michaels. Any of them can be the recipient, but no one else.”

She paused before adding, “And this is the big ask. I need a copy sent to the empress of the Vardarian Empire.”

Fyr’enth’s head snapped around to stare at her, but Kalan spoke first. “You what?”

She gave them both a firm look. “You heard me. She needs to know what had been done. Someone stole genetic material from her citizens. You might not see yourself as Vardarian, but what about the others? You don’t get to make that choice for them.”

She was right, but that didn’t make him feel better about it. What if this empress tried to order them back to the empire? That wouldn’t end well for anyone.

Flek watched their conversation intently. “You say these are Vardarian cyborgs? Like the corporate soldiers but not?”

“They are. Consider that information a bonus payment. Just don’t pass it on for a month. That will give everyone involved time to deal with the immediate problems.”

“A month. Yes. Reasonable.” His eyes glittered. “But then, I make scrip selling it. Some will pay large for such information.” Flek held up one hand. “But no one that would do harm to you or yours. That is not my way.”

“I know. That’s why I’m telling you.”

After that, the conversation shifted to talk of payments and finding a contractor for the cargo on the Gambit . Until then, Flek was willing to pay to store it.

By the time Flek brought out the pizzas, everything was settled and Hezza had instructed the ship’s AI to start offloading the cryo-pods and their mysterious contents.

Fyr’enth followed along, but most of his attention was on the feast laid out in front of him. Hot dough smothered in toppings, including a generous amount of melted cheese.

One bite was all he needed to decide that he and Kalan needed more of it in their lives. The question was, why hadn’t Hezza introduced them to it already?

Was she holding out on them? Was the food dispenser not capable of creating something this complex? He would find out.

“Which of these drinks do you prefer?” Kalan asked via their internal link at one point.

“The honey lager.” The light, slightly sweet taste appealed to him.

“I like the stout .”

It didn’t surprise him that they’d chosen different beverages.

The longer they were free, the more they learned about themselves.

They’d always known they were not the same in every way, but the list of differences grew as the days passed.

It was strange, and sometimes he disliked the changes.

He knew some things would always stay the same, though.

They would always share a face, and they’d love the same female.

The thought startled him.

Love? He hadn’t known the word was more than an abstract concept until recently.

Even then, he hadn’t expected to experience it himself.

But sitting there, enjoying a meal with the only two beings he cared about, he realized it was true.

He loved his brother in one way, and he loved their zana in another.

His revelation was cut short by a strident series of chirps from the comm device Hezza had given him before they left the ship. Kalan’s and Hezza’s went off at the same time.

“ Fraxx ,” Hezza muttered as she fumbled in her pocket. He handed her his device, instead.

She activated the screen and cursed. “We need to go. Now! An IAF ship is entering the system. We need to be gone before they try to lock down the port.”

“Try? Yes. Do?” Flek shook his head. “They are not in charge here. You go anyway. Be safe.”

“No time to pay. Sorry Flek. Put it on my tab, and I’ll pay you the next time we meet.”

“Yes. Go now. Pay later.”

They were almost to the door when he shouted, “Wait. I have your dessert ready!” He grabbed a bag from beneath the counter and tossed it to them, somehow avoiding snagging it on his thorns.

Kalan caught the bag and tucked it under his arm. “I’ve got these. You take Alyssa.” He sent through their link.

“No one ever stays for dessert. Always rushing.” He managed a grin that revealed far too many teeth. “You were never here. Yeah?”

“We were not,” Hezza agreed.

The flight back to the Gambit felt like it took forever. Where was the IAF ship now? Was it already in orbit?

It was not. Adrenaline had made time crawl, but in reality, it took them less than six minutes to return to the ship. They still had time to do…something.

“What’s the plan?” Kalan asked as they strapped into their chairs in the cockpit. The ship’s AI had already started the preflight process, and they were only minutes away from being able to take off.

“Message incoming. All bands and frequencies. I apologize. I am unable to block the signal,” the AI announced.

It was audio only, a female voice as cold as the void they were about to return to.

“Attention, citizens of Taza Four’s lunar colony.

This is Lieutenant Commander Heath of the Interstellar Armed Forces ship Falcon .

Be advised that we are in pursuit of a fugitive.

Anyone assisting Captain Bratt, also known as Hezza B, or the crew of the Desperate Gambit will be prosecuted under Galactic law.

This is your only warning. Do not interfere. ”

“How the fraxx did they get here so fast?” Hezza cursed as her hands flew over the controls.

“Ship, we’re leaving. Give me full manual control and prepare for evasive maneuvers the second we clear the atmosphere.”

Fyr’enth glanced back at his brother. He recognized that name, but from where?

Kalan had a thoughtful look on his face, too.

“ The Bright Arrow ,” they both said at the same time. That was it. The female in command of the Falcon had been the one they’d heard speaking to Barrios when they’d made their escape.

“You sure?” Hezza asked. “What am I saying? Of course you’re sure. You’re the cyborgs. I’m just the squishy meat sack flying this ship.”

Any reply was cut off when she hit the thrusters and the Gambit took off vertically.

“I think I’ve said this before,” she grunted through gritted teeth as the ship fought to break free of the moon’s gravity. “Brace yourselves. This next bit is going to be fun.”

At least this time, he knew what her definition of the word meant. Fyr’enth grabbed his harness and braced his feet against the deck. They were on the run. Again.