Page 6 of Alien's Challenge
The mere thought of the male left a sour taste on Faris’ tongue. If he had the chance to make Randevere a corpse, he just might.
They advanced through the train cars. Faris had the guards stunned and bound before they knew what was happening. Most did not require extra attention, but a few hardier males needed to stay unconscious.
Brute force was a style. His commanding officers from the Imperial Forces would not find the description flattering, even if it was accurate.
Perrigaul worked on unlocking doors and bypassing alarms.
“I’m appalled at the security, really,” Perrigaul said, stepping over a male who lay on his side.
“Don’t get sloppy. There’s five more cars to go,” Faris said.
“How many carriages on a train does one male need?”
“One for him and the rest for his ego, plus baggage,” Faris said, his tone dry.
Perrigaul laughed, his frills rippling along his neck. “The others think you just grunt and stab people to communicate. No one believes me when I say you have a sense of humor.”
Faris preferred it that way, honestly. He worked hard to hone a reputation that encouraged people to leave him the rotza alone.
Finally, they reached the luxury compartment near the front of the train. The guards there were no more competent than those at the back of the train. Once bound and no longer a threat, Faris opened the last door.
He tried hard not to think strategically about what waited on the other side, about the number of guards, their weapons, and how to extract their target without damage.
The surprise on Randevere’s face, however, was worth all the weeks of planning and the fortune spent on bribes.
The barely clothed human female he pulled in front of himself to shield his body with, however, was a complication.
Chapter 2
Faris
A human.
Rotza.
Rotting rotzas.
Faris knew Rand had attended an auction of salvaged goods. Nearby asteroid belts damaged plenty of vessels, leaving them stranded and drifting. Scavengers would tow the ship to the nearest station with salvage rights of the cargo. The good stuff—mostly weapons, some luxury goods, but who was sending that to this stinking corner of the universe?—went up for auction. The rest was sold for scrap. Plenty of junkyards were full of abandoned ships, picked over for parts.
Rand was supposed to have purchased an antique blaster, a real gem in pristine condition.
Not a breeder.
There must have been a pod at the auction and he couldn’t help himself. Faris didn’t know if Rand planned to fill a nest with her, but the male liked pretty, expensive things.Conspicuous consumptioncould be his house motto.
“Owenfaris, fourth child of the Eternal House. I am honored,” Rand said, a slow grin spreading over his face.
Faris kept his face neutral. He would not give Rand the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort at the sound of his full name.
The human female twisted, trying to break free, but Rand pinned her against his front with a strong arm over her shoulder. She wore a golden collar, a leash, and thin cloth wrapped around her torso.
Rand held the antique blaster in his other hand, hanging loose at his side.
“Rand.” Disdain dripped from Faris’ voice. “Hiding behind females?”
“Randevere,” he snarled. “Use my name. You disgrace your house, but you will not disgrace mine.”
The female spoke. It sounded like babble, the kind of disjointed and broken speech that hatchlings utilized.
