Page 24 of The Captain's Pet
“You can’t arm the pets, Captain,” Firth said, ignoring the glare Joel shot him.
“They should be able to at least choose their own destiny if we fail, sir,” Narith said.
Kell looked around at his crew for a second before turning his attention back to Wid. “If we arm you, you will surrender them once we retake the ship. You will not use them against us to try to escape. Agreed?”
Wid closed his eyes for a second, feeling the weight of his decision. Did he even have the right to make such a promise on behalf of the others? Would they accept their fate as alien pets just because the more brutal ones had been eliminated? Their secret passageways, the only chance they had to escape, was known now. They’d never be able to use them. Opening his eyes again, he searched for Joel and the others. He raised his eyebrows at them. One by one, they nodded. They didn’t look happy, but at least they were willing to take the devil’s bargain.
“Agreed,” he said to Kell.
“Arm them,” the captain called out to no one in particular. “And get these three back into the ducts after you show themhow to fire the weapons. We don’t want our pets shooting themselves, now do we?”
The look the captain sent Wid held a world of meaning. Wid understood the alien was telling him that he didn’t want the pets killing themselves deliberately, yet accepted that some or all might choose to do so regardless of the outcome. In that, Wid couldn’t give any assurances. He only knew that he wasn’t going to take that route unless Kell failed. He hadn’t missed, either, that Kell had ordered only the other three boys back into the passageways.
Wid would march with Kell to confront the mutineers.
Kell braced his legs, keeping his weapon at the ready, as he rode the auxiliary lift to the bridge. About a third of his loyal crew were with him. Narith had headed to the main lift with another third, hopefully not running into too many of those loyal to Garen as he tried to reach the bridge. Firth, meanwhile, had gone to secure the engine room if possible. Kell didn’t want it to turn into a bloody battle to regain control of the ship. High Command would not view him favorably if he did, no matter that Garen had acted inappropriately in the first place. Kell’s best bet was to take Garen by surprise and challenge him to personal combat. If he could kill the upstart, the mutiny would be over without more loss of life. Without a leader, the others would fall back into line. It was a calculated risk, of course. Garen held the advantage of being younger and more heavily muscled. Kell liked to think he had greater incentive.
He resisted the urge to look behind him. His pet stood buried way in the back of the lift, as safe as Kell could make him with a wall of larger males concealing him. Damn fool thought he could hold his own if a fight broke out. Of course, he’d proved to bevery clever indeed, finding the electrical conduits of the ship. But for the mutiny, Kell would have put an end to those sorties. It was fortunate that he hadn’t had time to mention it to anyone and that Garen was as dull-witted as Kell had always suspected. If the mutineer had reasoned things out, Kell would still be waiting in the brig for a laser blast to his head.
His pet had come for him. That thought pleased him even as he focused on the fight ahead. Of course, the humans would see the rescue as self-serving. Garen and the others had brutalized them, making Kell and his compatriots seem desirable in comparison. That notion didn’t please him as much. It was stupid, but he would have liked to have thought his pet rescued him out of affection and loyalty. He was being a sentimental idiot. The humans were sex slaves, not willing concubines. He couldn’t be surprised if the humans reneged on the promise not to use the weapons to try to escape. Worse, they might use them to self-terminate. The idea of Wid, his precious pet, killing himself to avoid Kell’s touch caused a frisson of fear to run through him. He stifled the response. He couldn’t show anything remotely like that right now.
The floor gauge indicated they had almost reached their destination. Everyone in the lift stiffened with readiness. When the doors slid quietly open, they poured out into the bridge, weapons up. They fanned out along the perimeter to circle as much of the startled bridge crew as they could. An instant later, the main lift opened and Narith charged in with his complement of males. The replacement navigator jumped up from his station, reaching for his sidearm as he did so. And didn’t the fact that the bridge crew believed they needed to be armed condemn Garen’s command more than anything else?
“Don’t!” Kell barked. “I have no interest in killing any of you. Don’t force me to.”
He stared down the younger officer, whose hand still hovered around his weapon. Uncertainty crossed his face, as it did the others on the bridge, some still sitting at their stations, others standing. With so many weapons trained on them from all sides, the males made the right choice and slowly moved their hands to the small of their backs.
“What the fuck!” Garen raced out of his ready room—Kell’s ready room. He took in the scene before snarling at Kell. “How did you escape?” His gaze shifted and his expression turned feral. Kell didn’t break his concentration, but knew Garen must be looking at Wid.
“Of course, the human cunt found a way to get to you.” He glanced around the walls above everyone’s head. “The conduits,” he ground out.
Kell allowed himself a condescending smile. “It seems they were far smarter than either of us realized.”
“Another failing of yours, proving you are unfit for command.” Spittle flew out of Garen’s mouth at his mounting fury.
“A failing that we obviously share,” Kell allowed. “I won’t make that mistake again and neither will you, because this mutiny ends now.”
Garen bared his teeth. “No, I am captain and I will stay as such.”
“Don’t be more of a fool than you already are. We have you surrounded here and Firth is taking the engine room as we speak. If you insist on fighting, many will die. A good commander doesn’t sacrifice his crew for nothing.”
“I will not cede control back to you!” Garen practically shouted his denial, telling Kell how far to the edge his junior officer had gone.
“I don’t expect you to.” Kell kept his tone more controlled and civilized. “You know there is a way to settle this with only one death. I challenge you to personal combat.”
His words hung in the room that had turned instantly quiet. All eyes swung to Garen, who stood frozen, his gaze fixed on Kell. Hatred showed through his eyes. Because there was really only one possible response, Kell handed his weapon to the crewmember standing closest to him. He kept his eyes on Garen for any sudden movement as he worked the fastenings of his tunic. While he didn’t trust Garen not to do something wholly stupid like trying to shoot Kell, the die had been cast. No one could answer a challenge by such a sneaky attack. Even if Garen killed him, no member of the crew would follow him after that. Still, Kell didn’t want to end up dying by overestimating Garen’s rationality.
After long moments of silence, Garen finally began taking off his own uniform. Combat on the bridge would be tricky. There wasn’t a lot of open space and of course everything they might conceivably land on while grappling with each other could cause trouble with the ship’s navigation and stability. The rules of engagement, however, left them no choice. This wasn’t going to be some civilized contest arranged in the perfect venue. The fight needed to happen right now and right here.
“Lock down the controls,” he barked out to the bridge crew that still remained at their stations.
When those males looked to Garen as the one they still followed, he nodded curtly. “Do it and get out of the way.”
As he shed each article of clothing, Kell’s civility went with it. For all its martial meaning, the uniform was what tethered him to the duty prescribed by the females of his race. His naked skin represented the primal part of him and the animal need to tear Garen apart grew with the exposure of his body. When he stood completely nude, he felt not vulnerable, but powerful. He snarled at his opponent, impatient for the contest to begin. He had to win, not just to protect his crew or to return to his mate and her children, but for his beautiful pet. If Kell failed, thehuman would surely die. If Garen didn’t rip the boy apart, Wid would probably kill himself. Even though Kell hadn’t asked for or even wanted his pet, the boy was part of his life now and he’d fight to the death to defend him.
When Garen tossed away the last of his clothing, Kell lunged for him. He had always preferred being on the offensive in training exercises and this deadly contest was no different. His opponent stood ready for him, however, and braced against the assault. Kell grappled with the younger male, trying to push him off balance. Garen gripped Kell with equal force and for the first long moments of the fight, they pushed ineffectually at each other. Kell changed tactics and tilted them both to one side, causing Garen to crash against the nearest console. The male grunted at the impact, yet kept his punishing hold on Kell.
Then Garen reversed the tactic, and this time when they careened against a chair, Kell slipped. But even as he went down, he held tight to Garen and brought him down too. They wrestled around the floor, each trying to pin the other. Kell dug his fingers into as much of Garen’s flesh as he could, reaching for soft parts of the body like eyes and the groin. Personal combat had no rules. The goal was to win and at any cost. Garen managed to land a vicious blow to Kell’s nose. Blood gushed down into his open mouth, from which harsh pants blew. The taste of his own vulnerability only spurred him on, as did the roars of encouragement emanating from the males who watched. It didn’t matter that some of it was meant for Garen. Kell stole the energy around him and used it to fuel his attack.
