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I tried to breathe shallow little wisps, because the stench of the guy carrying me was making my eyes water.

I wanted to have them wide open so I could take in every detail beyond those doors.

Was it the bridge of the ship? Too bad I’d been out cold when they reached it; I wish I could have seen how damaged it was from the outside.

I knew a cargo door was missing—possibly the one my stasis pod had fallen out of—but what else?

How soon could they repair the ship and fly away with all of us?

Tomorrow, next week, or would it take them a year to make all the repairs?

Again, I was brimming with questions, but I held my tongue. I couldn’t just start blurting them out, no matter how badly I wanted to know the answers. I likely wouldn’t be able to understand anyone aboard this ship unless they were human.

The doors seemed to move with a slow grinding noise, a whir, and a screech that made it clear the metal had warped in its frame from the impact with the planet.

Beyond, the space was lit up better than the hallway had been, but only slightly.

Shafts of light came from some of the ceiling panels, but others were out and darkened.

Red emergency lights glowed along the floor, and most of the screens were out.

It had to be the bridge, though, and it looked far too intact to make me feel good.

There was no sign that a fire had raged here.

Everything looked neat as a pin, just powered down, as if someone could go to the computers and wake the ship at any moment, take control and fly away.

When my eyes locked on the strange alien standing by the captain’s chair, I knew my life was at his whim.

He was the one in control of this ship. Wreck? It was hard to see that right now.

Then the lights were turned on more brightly, the Krektar hissing with discontent and blinking their eyes as if the light had blinded them.

I saw what the dark had hidden before: the scorch marks along the back wall, the smears of blood all over the pilot console, and the crushed steering yoke.

Screens had cracked. Several control hubs had short-circuited and reeked of smoke, even if the damage wasn’t visible.

No, this ship wasn’t flying this week, or the next.

The alien that dominated the space was unfamiliar to me.

I did not know what species he was or where he came from, just that he was very alien and very hostile-looking.

He had horns—a proud set rising from his forehead—his skin as black as night but cracked with lightning bolts of color.

Each line was a vibrant red, matched by the red glow of his eyes and the streaks in his black mane of hair.

A tail flicked behind his back: narrow, agile, tipped with an arrow-shaped hook, and covered in shiny silver metal.

That blade, and the cunning look in his bright red eyes, convinced me he was the real threat.

He had to be another Zeta Quadrant inhabitant, but who?

I didn’t know much more; I hadn’t had the clearance.

“Ah, bring her here. Don’t stand about, you lazy fool,” the red-eyed male snapped, and his tail flicked through the air impatiently.

The Krektar holding me winced, scurrying forward as if that tail had slapped him in his ugly face.

He almost dropped me when he got close, stumbling past the corner of the imposing chair.

I would have dropped myself, because I heard the guy’s voice loud and clear, and it was translated perfectly. How was that possible?

I saw his mouth curl into a smirk, all malice and satisfaction, as the Krektar put me down and groveled.

Behind me, the other two sank to their knees as well, bowing, silent but quivering as if they were utterly terrified.

I gripped the edge of the chair to stay upright, my legs shaking and weak, my stomach roiling with a wave of sudden nausea.

My body rebelled against being upright, and my head spun, my wrist throbbing sharply.

I pressed my injured, likely broken arm to my chest, hoping to keep it stable, though it didn’t make it feel any better.

“You’re a curiosity, human,” the male in charge drawled.

His boots made no sound as he circled partially around me, his eyes going up and down my body as he appraised me.

What did he see? The crude, hand-sewn coat?

The equally primitive, handmade leather boots?

He had to know I’d gotten help, and I tightened my lips, resolved not to say a word.

“How did you survive? Huh?” he added, and he jabbed the sharp, blade-covered tip of his tail beneath my chin.

I almost jerked back but stiffened my spine at the last moment.

He did not cut my skin, but it came close—and I knew it.

“Skill,” I snapped at him. “Luck,” I added, when his expression made it clear he did not believe me.

I rolled a shoulder like I didn’t care, but my heart was pounding in my throat.

My coat hid my pregnancy, and I really didn’t want him to find out.

“How is it I can understand you?” Maybe if I asked him a question, I could deflect.

I wasn’t holding out much hope, but I had always been better with words.

The guy’s eyes narrowed on me, and I wondered if my question had offended him or amused him.

His features were very humanoid, familiar, compared to the alienness of the Krektar and even the soft scales that covered Artek’s handsome face.

These expressions were close enough to human that I could read them, except this guy seemed to be a master at hiding his thoughts.

Actually, in a weird way, he reminded me of Athol—only crazy scary instead of just… impish.

The male flicked his hand dismissively. “The Kertinal are well-known everywhere—even in your backwater Alpha Quadrant. Your government has been smart enough not to hamper communications between us.” Then why had I never heard of the Kertinal at all?

Was that what he was? He certainly looked like the type to be aggressive and, well…

warmongering—the type the UAR would consider a big threat.

I doubted that just any human on Earth had gotten his language in their translator updates.

But maybe I had, because of my job. It wasn’t like anyone specified what was on those uploads.

“Did you have help, human?” he asked, and his tone turned sharp, impatient.

He stepped closer, towering over me, and I was forced to tip my head back to be able to look him in the face.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Who helped you? Who gave you the coat? How did you survive?” He wanted me to rat out Artek and his kind.

Had these guys figured out yet that they weren’t alone on this planet?

Scraping my throat, I raised myself onto my toes.

Then I did possibly the stupidest thing I’d ever done in my life, and considering my current predicament, that was saying something.

I spat in his face, my saliva splattering with a satisfying smack across the bridge of his proud nose.

Stupid, maybe, but did it feel good? Hell yes.

His look of surprise was worth a lot, and the crude laughter of his Krektar underlings was entirely satisfying.

Yes, let them mock their master. I knew he’d retaliate, but what more could he do? He wasn’t getting answers.

The Kertinal did not flinch as my spit struck him.

He just blinked long lashes down over his ruby eyes, his mouth curling into a smirk.

He was like Athol. My defiance had amused him rather than offended him.

I wasn’t sure if that was more terrifying or not.

He certainly had no problem redirecting his rage toward the Krektar that had laughed.

His tail whipped out, snapping through the air and striking the nearest one across the face, leaving a red streak of blood with droplets welling in its path.

A very mean Athol. I had to admit I was shaking in my boots, terrified he’d strike me with that tail next.

But he switched from stick to carrot as quickly as he’d lashed out.

“You did good bringing her in, Taks,” he said, turning to face the bleeding Krektar and leaning over him in a very threatening fashion.

His hand went up to finally wipe the droplets of spit from his skin, while his tail curled around my good wrist and pinched there, tightly but not quite painfully. “Where did you find her stasis pod?”

The question made my stomach twist, and I pulled on the grip of his tail, wanting to back away.

I knew what those Krektar were going to say, how there was no pod, about their encounter with Artek.

I refused to talk about my Naga Shaman who, even now, could be lying somewhere dead or injured.

Who would help him? He was the healer, the one always helping others.

I certainly wasn’t going to make his situation worse by revealing too much and triggering some kind of Krektar manhunt.

The bleeding Krektar, Taks, spoke rapidly but not for very long.

It was long enough, however, because the Kertinal nodded his head, expression shrewd.

“You’ve been holding out on me, human. Very well, a night in the hold will loosen your tongue.

” He clacked his mandibles, and then his tail unwound from my arm, pushing against my shoulder to send me stumbling back the way I’d come.

“Taks, put her with the others. Then report back immediately. I am not done with you.”