Page 37 of The Dreamer and the Deep Space Warrior (Xaal Alien Romance #1)

Ved

Lepna was a refuel and trading station, one of the few this far out. It was so far out that the Authority didn’t have jurisdiction over it. Mostly, it wasn’t worth the trouble for them to care.

Which made it the best kind of place for the worst kinds of beings.

Ved hated that they’d brought Isobel there. Almost as much as he hated being here himself. But, besides the fact that they’d stopped here for some reason, there were mechanics on Lepna who could fix his ship.

It had been three days of traveling at top speeds and fixing issues as they arose.

But for every hour he covered, the enemy clan’s ship gained minutes on him.

One of his engines was lagging behind. A part that had been made inoperable during the vector tear and subsequent crash landing was slowing the shadowdrifter as a whole down.

“Forty up,” the lean Pyp said in the universal tongue as he gestured to all the ships in the hangar. His bulbous, pale green head shook on his shoulders in a way that convinced Ved it may roll off at any moment. “Can’t help until then.”

“I need it now,” Ved said through gritted teeth .

The Pyp stared at him, three yellow eyes blinking unevenly as he weighed the threat of violence a Xaal naturally carried. “Maybe Sayar can.” He gestured with his chin.

Ved looked toward the far corner. A rodent-like creature called a Brite, no taller than Ved’s knee, was scrabbling away from another Pyp’s thrown tool.

The Brite, Sayar, chittered. “I haven’t had a single job today besides a handful of refuels. If you’re looking to push me out—” He dodged another thrown object. “You drift-lunk! I bet your mother wept when she pushed you out. You flat-headed, no balls—”

“Sayar,” the Pyp next to Ved interrupted. “Job.” Then he walked away swiftly.

Sayar stiffened before looking over his shoulder at Ved.

“Can you fix a nol-pin of a 333 ixom-layered engine?” Ved asked.

Sayar narrowed his eyes before scampering toward him. “Broken or just defused?”

“Defused. I need it in thirty.” He refused to give his enemies any more of a time advantage than they already had. Every moment Isobel was at their mercy was a moment too long.

Sayar’s nose twitched, his beady eyes assessing. “Sixty tokens, but I want double. Up front.”

“Fine,” Ved agreed. The rat could have asked him for ten times that and he would have paid it gladly.

Sayar muttered something about plasma-sucking wastes as he followed Ved to his shadowdrifter.

“There I was, waist-deep in Nax shit, and they have the balls to say they’d never heard of her.” Sayar was regaling Ved with the unfortunate tale of how he’d ended up on Lepna, his voice echoing off the inside of the engine compartment, when Exxo interrupted.

“ The Raxans have just changed course by twenty-seven degrees, ” he reported.

The sounds from the engine compartment stopped abruptly. Sayar poked his head out. “Did that droid just say Raxans?”

“ I am not a droid, ” Exxo said, aghast.

“Why?” Ved asked the Brite sharply. “Do you know something?”

“Nothing important. It isn’t like we get a lot of you sort out this way. Not exactly anything to hunt here besides despair. Came in a few hours ago for a top-up. Silver and violent. One tried to get scrappy with me. But I looked that son of a—”

“Was there an unarmored female with them?”

“Matter o’fact, there was.” Sayar’s nose twitched as if remembering her scent. “My translator could barely understand what she said, but she called me ‘sir.’”

Warmth spread through Ved. That sounded like Isobel. “How did she look? Was she—"

“ We have an approaching Kroid. It would appear he is on a mission .”

Ved stood up, snapping his jaws. Sayar was already back to work when he exited the engine compartment. Ved left the oversight of the job to Exxo and stepped through the hatch.

The Kroid halted three paces away from him, a grotesque smile on his face. “A bit far from Xaal territory, aren’t you?”

Ved stared, waiting.

He scratched his chin before crossing all four arms over himself. “I might have some information you’d like. For a price, of course. Let’s make it a hundred tokens. ”

“There’s nothing I want from you,” Ved said, turning to get back on his ship. His fuse was too short to play such games.

“Even if it’s about a little pet of yours?” he crooned.

Ved stiffened and turned back around, grabbing the Kroid by his collar. “Say what you need to say,” he snapped.

“Now, now.” The Kroid struggled. “Unhand me and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Tell me and I’ll consider letting you keep your throat.”

The Kroid’s thin tongue passed over his mandibles. “They were in here with her.”

“Was she hurt?” Ved asked through gritted teeth. He hated himself for letting the desperation show in his words.

The Kroid tittered, and Ved pushed him away. His breath was a stench he didn’t want to subject himself to any longer.

Something like satisfaction came over the Kroid as he wiggled his fingers. “A little beat up, but well-collared.”

They’d put a slave-choker around her neck? Ved’s vision went red.

The Kroid was smug as he said, “They asked me to pass along their destination. In case you get lost, you understand.”

“Where?”

He straightened with self-importance and spent a minute picking something fleshy from his teeth as if he had all the time in the universe.

Ved growled with impatience.

“Urita. Nice place this time of year, I’ve heard.”

That was surprising. He’d assumed they would lead him to one of the Three. But Urita…

It was said that on Urita, six Xaal brothers had gone to fight for the right to be the Great Clan’s leader.

Only one had walked away from the battle the victor, the others dead.

That story was the foundation of their culture—that only the strongest deserved to survive.

And only the greatest deserved to be qon.

A cold awareness pricked at his senses. “Is that all?”

“One more thing,” the Kroid said, pulling something out of a pouch on his belt.

Ved immediately recognized the curly brown strand. Remembered the exact texture and feel of her hair as he ran his fingers through it. He growled low in his throat.

The Kroid brought it to his nose, sniffing audibly, his eyes closing as if he was smelling the most delectable thing. “Now that’s all,” he said as he offered the lock to Ved.

Her faint scent wafted over him. Ved snatched the strand from the Kroid’s hand.

The Kroid swung his blockish head and turned around. “Better fight well, she looked good enough to eat. They promised me a taste if—”

Ved shot a hole in the Kroid’s back and was on his ship before his body fell.