Page 68 of Taken to Kor
I punch him lightly in the stomach. “Play nice,” I mumble.
Raku says, “It would appear that we’re locked in a temporary truce.”
“Very temporary,” Rhork answers at the same time that I say, “Not that temporary.” And Svera says, “It could be more.” And Miari says, “A truce between us would be productive. And if Deena’s running things that side, then I say we’ve got a good chance of making it happen. It’s called moving on, something we humans know quite a lot about. Because even though Rhorkanterannu has done terrible, terrible things, can you not say the same of your own kind’s behavior towards us? If anything, the Voraxians have done much greater harm and much more damage to the humans than the Niahhorru have. And humans, we can see now through Mathilda’s actions, have done equal damage to what you Voraxians have done.
“So if these Niahhorru pirates can save our colony now and if Deena vouches for themtruly, then it’s something we should consider. Old wounds are better left as scars. Don’t you agree? Or should we rehash the past now and leave the colony we’ve spent a rotation building back up to ruin?”
Miari’s tone is stone, her gaze even and level as she stares at her mate. Her Xiveri Mate. And even though he might be king and totally, just a little terrifying, I understand exactly why she’s queen and capable of withstanding or perhaps, taming, his might.
She has might of her own to rival it.
And as she stares at him, colors wash over his face in an expression of emotion only shared by Voraxians — bright lights that appear above his eyes where eyebrows should be, turning his face first neon yellow now before the color is disrupted by a smidge of grey. From the little I know of Voraxians and their colors, that combination of colors means something like shame.
He flicks his gaze back to us through the viewer just as another explosion rocks our mothership.
“The Rakukanna has spoken. We will proceed for now, with trust. Arm the battleships, Krisxox. Take to the skies. Don’t let anything touch the colony soil.”
“I won’t,” Krisxox grumbles. “I’d still like to skin him, though…”
As Svera issues some kind of response, I’m distracted by shouting behind me. More cheers go up. “Did we take out another ship?”
“Looks like we didn’t. Your Eshmiri friend did, Rhorkanterannu,” Tevbarannos shouts over to us from controls built into the wall.
“Ashmara,” Rhork says to what looks like no one. He grins with one side of his mouth. “Give me a moment. Let me patch you in…”
“What? Centare!” She’s still talking as her face appears in the viewer.
“Holy shrov!” I shout out loud. “Is that…” But my words are drowned out by Krisxox’s snarl, “Ashmara, you filthy pirate!”
“Why, thank you,” she answers. “You’re looking better than you were the last time I saw you.”
“Forget about shroving Rhorkanterannu,youare the one I’m coming for. I’m going to rip out your lying tongue!”
“You’ll have to catch her, first,” Rhork says. “Not an easy task considering the Sky bounty hunter who holds her contract has been trying for rotations. Is he close?”
Ashmara shakes her head, white curls fluttering around her face as she glances over her shoulder at something — someone. “Nah. Not even a little. And while I’m enjoying this family reunion here, my ship’s not made out of yeeyar, so if y’all have a shroving plan, please get on with it! We can’t take another hit!” Her whole body sails out of the frame of the viewer for a moment, before cutting back in. This time it’s an Eshmiri’s face in the viewer and he’s shouting angrily at all of us in Eshmiri. Well, giggling.
Their line cuts off and Rhork issues orders to deploy the destabilizer. “Wait!” I shout, shoving up and out of my chair as I head to the view pane while Quintenanrret shouts at me to sit back down. “Won’t we hit Herannathon and the human?”
“Shrov! Ashmara, is Herannathon’s cruiser anywhere in the vicinity?”
“Centare,” she grumbles and her face appears over Nikkowerranorru’s wrist again. This time, she’s got her chin tipped up and a bottle trapped between her fist. She upends clear liquid into her mouth, letting some of it drip down the long column of her throat. It’s a smooth, flawless dark brown, just like the rest of her skin. She’s stunning.
And she’s alsodefinitelynot Eshmiri.
This chick is half-human.
With white hair like the Drakesh and white eyes that lack a pupil, she looks like she got to pick the most random pieces of alien and human anatomy and shove them altogether. I’m momentarily annoyed Rhork didn’t tell me.
She finishes draining the bottle then releases a satisfied sigh before chucking the glass over her shoulder. “They looked like they were heading into Quadrant Five. At least, towards it. Can’t get more specific than that. But what about us? When are you deploying that machine?”
I glance over my shoulder at Nikkowerranorru who looks at Gerannu who looks at Corvenarennu at the controls who gives us all an apologetic shrug. “Was I not supposed to deploy it already?”
“Shrov! Tintin, get us the shrov out of here,” Ashmara shrieks over her shoulder before turning back and shaking her fist at us through the communicator. “You assholes! I’ll send your pirates back to Kor in shooters or in body bags if we make it out of this…”
Her voice cuts off and I stand with both palms pressed against the viewer as I watch one little nut-sized ship zig zag wildly away from all the others. It comes closer to us as it moves and I get a better look at the ship being flown by the Eshmiri reaver who is somehow, also partially human. It’s a piece of crap. I make a face and Rhork, at my side, laughs.
“It is a piece of crap. The Eshmiri aren’t known for anything other than their cloaking technology. Ashmara’s ship is all metal.”
