Truehearts & The Escape From Pirate Moon Jake Macklem (classic romance novels TXT) 📖

“I can’t even begin…” Cam started.

Cutting him off, Ace blurted, “I think this place is the pirate's stash. Where they hide everything until they have a buyer or whatever.”

Cam shook his head. “Then why is it here. I mean, why haven’t they come and picked it up?”

“Because the cruiser went down.” Ace blinked at him. “Don’t you see? They were lots of pirates on that planet. Their big ship went down—they haven’t come here because they don’t want to make dozens of little trips and draw attention to their hiding spot. But once they have a ship that can carry all this…” Ace swept her arm around at the stacks of supplies.

Cam’s face lit up. “They’re gonna come get their stuff!”

Ace took another bite of her brownie. The chocolate tasted rich and sweet. I shanking love brownies.

  23: Remy

Remy sat at his desk, reading his messages, trying to ignore the soft sobs. Plundering for six months, patrolling the black, enjoying the gambit of piracy, raiding colony ships, selling some of the ill-gotten gains, spending the credits on new hardware and bribes… as far as Remy was concerned, the trip had been a cosmic success.

Two months into the trip, his base of operations reported that their activities had drawn the attention of the Sol military. Fortunately, they were up to date with their bribery payments and they were given plenty of warning that the STARS were coming.

His comrade, Mara, had taken charge of their big cruiser, moving the clients and their supplies to the stash moon. It was a strange place that they had been using for years. They tried to use it as a base for a time, but that ended badly and now Remy only went there when it was absolutely necessary, and it was. His ship, the Javelin, was the only one big enough to collect the supplies. You just had to go and die. You’re a tart, Mara. He poured another glass of the alcohol distilled from the engine room. He picked up the glass. “To you, Mara, for moving the goods and being a good shank.” He tossed the liquid back, burning his throat.

He felt a twinge of regret for Mara as he turned off the digital display and leaned back in his chair, pondering how he would replace a lost ship.

He leered over at the two people with collars on their necks that leashed them to the floor with a two and a half foot long chain. Neither wore clothes nor had any hair on their bodies. The human male slept soundly. Remy had named him Toejam and had been training him for about three months. He’s broken, just needs to learn all his protocols. Toejam didn’t have any problems prepping the new one today. That’s a good sign. In a month or two he’ll fetch me a couple hundred thousand credits. Remy sighed. The market for well-trained—and expendable—submissives always favored the supplier.

Holding her tail for comfort as she softly cried, the female Sidarian had curled herself into a tight ball, occasionally touching her newly shaven head. Being bald seemed unnatural to her. Her skin was a pale pink, her veins faintly visible streaks of purple. She’ll adjust. They all do. Part of the training Remy employed in breaking his slaves was to take away anything that let them feel equal or unique. Control everything—from when and what they eat to their hair. Remy would use Toejam as a training tool to break in the new girl, teach her her new role. But first I need to name her, so I can yell at her. He stood and began to walk toward the pair.

The Sidarian covered as much of her body as she could when she heard Remy move. She glanced over but did not look at him; she had already learned that lesson. Her wide-eyed fear caused her body to shake uncontrollably. Slowly he stalked toward her. A beep came from his door. He stopped and scowled, annoyed, and barked, “What is it?”

The door opened and a seven-foot Gargin stepped into the room. He looked to be carved from hornfels rock, with striations of grey and black, and thin bands of white. In a deep rumbling voice that cut off the beginnings of words with hard consonants, he said, “Captain, we’re in the system and on approach to Ophelia. We’ve detected a ship circling the moon.”

Remy glared. “What kind of ship? One of ours?” Is someone trying to steal from me?

“No Captain. Looks to be a mining and surveying ship.” The Gargin gave a wicked smile.

“Well then, Mr. Vargi, we should go introduce ourselves,” Remy sneered. He looked at the crying Sidarian. She can wait.

“Aye, Captain.” Mr. Vargi led the way as they walked to the bridge.

The bridge of the ship was small, with only a few stations: pilot, comms operator, two gunnery positions, and a chair for the captain. Getha a Zontra—a four-foot, grey-skinned humanoid—turned its large black eyes to the door as it slid open. When Remy walked in behind Mr. Vargi, it said, “Captain, we are in range. The ship has hailed us and is attempting to evade.”

Remy turned and looked at the O’rix at the comms panel. “Open a frequency, T’toli,”

The female humanoid cat had markings like a puma but her fur colors were red, pink, orange, and black. T’toli blinked her yellow eyes. “Aye, Captain.” She pressed some buttons on her station, and there was a brief, faint crackle of static.

He swaggered to the chair, sitting in it like a throne. “This is Captain Remy Dark.” He had started calling himself that a few years into his pirating career; turned out Remy Dorvashmitz did not strike enemies with the fear he hoped to instill. “The Javelin is poised and ready to destroy your ship. I would like you to consider surrender. No