Page 13 of Pursued By the Dragon Alien

As she turned to head back to her quarters, Razion couldn’t help but call out before she left his sight. “Get some rest. You’ve got duties tomorrow,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than he intended.

Lilas just smirked. “Looking forward to it, Captain.”

Her presence on his ship was a complication he hadn’t anticipated, but there was something about her—a strength, a resilience that resonated with him. And the mystery of her species, of why they had disappeared and then suddenly reappeared in the form of a fiery, stubborn female, was a puzzle he intended to solve.

But first, he needed to keep his distance, to remind himself that she was off-limits. He had a ship to run, a crew that needed him at his sharpest. When he was around Lilas, she had his attention and, he feared, far too much of his interest. Krask had picked up on it immediately, which was likely why his first mate had instantly disliked Lilas.

Problem was, Razion couldn’t see himself giving her up. He’d meant what he’d said—she was treasure. And dragons did not give up their treasure willingly.

FIVE

Lilas

Lilas stood beside the conveyor belt, hands on hips, watching unfamiliar objects slide past at a slow pace. Some looked valuable—metal plating, sleek weapons, strange glowing cylinders—while others looked like absolute junk. A pile of gold-threaded fabric drifted by, and she barely resisted the urge to snatch it up just to rip it apart. Gribna had built his entire life on stolen wealth—maybe shredding a few reminders of that would be cathartic.

The cargo bay was far more massive than she expected on a spaceship. Overhead lights illuminated the rows of sorted goods and the crew members working efficiently at their stations. They moved fast, inspecting items, scanning them with handheld devices, and marking what was worth keeping, what was to be disposed of, and what was getting sold.

Lilas, on the other hand, stood uselessly at her spot, waiting for someone to give her instructions. Waiting for Razion to show up and tell her what exactly she was supposed to do.

He hadn’t. Maybe she’d misheard him. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember him saying that he’d be here at all today.

She ground her teeth as another crate rolled past. Had he changed his mind about keeping her on the crew? Decided she wasn’t worth the effort? Left her here to figure it out herself as some kind of test? If that was the case, he could shove his test straight out the nearest air lock.

She glanced at the others working. The crew was larger than the three she’d met on the previous cycle. It took many to run a ship like this, and fourteen, not including her, were spread out in the cargo hold. Most ignored her, focused on their tasks. A few side-eyed her like they weren’t sure if she belonged. That was fine. She didn’t need to be liked—she needed to know what thefekshe was supposed to be doing.

Her fingers tapped against her hip as another weapon-shaped object slid past. If someone didn’t give her directions soon, she was going to start making up her own rules.

And Razion wasn’t going to like them. She grabbed the nearest item that looked remotely important—a sleek black device with blinking blue lights—and turned it over in her hands. No idea what it was. No idea if it was worth keeping, selling, or tossing straight into the scrap pile.

“Hey,” she called to the nearest crew member, a burly male with gray scales and a sour expression. “What exactly am I supposed to be doing here?”

The male barely glanced at her. “Sorting,” he said gruffly.

“Yeah, I gathered that much, thanks. Sortinghow?” She turned the device in her hands. “Is this something we keep? Sell? Blow up for amusement?”

The male snorted but didn’t look up from his work. “Scanner tells you. Green light means valuable. Red means junk. Blue means potential tracker—needs deeper inspection.”

Lilas looked around. “Scanner?”

The male sighed like explaining things to her was the greatest inconvenience of his life. He pointed at a handheld device laying on a storage container near the conveyor belt. “There.”

Lilas slid over to the unoccupied workstation and grabbed the scanner. The worker who’d left it didn’t complain, so she assumed this was fair game. She aimed the scanner at the object in her hand and pressed the button.

A red light blinked.

“Junk,” she muttered, tossing it onto a levitating skid with a red square on it. A small satisfaction curled in her gut. She had something to do now.

She grabbed another item—some kind of metallic sphere—and scanned it. Blue light.

Blue meant potential tracker. The gray guy said trackers needed deeper inspection. What did that mean?

Her grip tightened. Maybe she was supposed to look at it more closely.

She knew little of these things, but she knew enough to be aware that tracking devices could mean a whole lot of trouble if they weren’t neutralized quickly. She should put it aside and let someone else handle it. That was the smart thing to do.

But her frustration still simmered under her skin, and Razion was nowhere to be found to tell her otherwise. What if that device was tracking themright now?It would be her fault if a bunch of Axis ships showed up and attacked because she just ignored this thing.

Fekit.

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