Prime Obsession by Monette Michaels Read Free Book Online

prisoners were being lined up by A’tem’s team.
    The pirates wore leg and arm manacles. “All the Prime found are dead. No torture. Looks like they died fighting after the initial invasion.”
    “Jesus,” she muttered. “Why just the two levels?”
    “One of the prisoners advised us that we were outnumbered, Captain.” Nowicki angled his head. “As it was, we only subdued this bunch because of surprise. I decided not to risk the boarding party until we could assess status more completely.” Mel’s narrowed gaze traveled the line of prisoners. A few of the pirates were Erians, a reptilian species that gloried in mutilating prisoners, very much like the Antareans. In fact, the Erians were rumored to be distant cousins of the Antarean race, separated by several centuries.
    “I would’ve done the same.”
    Nowicki nodded his acknowledgment.
    “Any Prime women among the dead?” she asked, dreading the answer. The Prime diplomatic legation might have brought their wives, although she doubted it. The Prime hid their women away and protected them to the point of being excessive. The crew would always be one hundred percent male.
    “No women.”
    Unconsciously, the tension that had stiffened her posture dissipated.
    Nowicki shot her a look of understanding.
    Her nightmares dated back to the Prater region and an Antarean raid. She’d survived—others hadn’t. Since that time, she couldn’t handle the evidence or even the thought of rape and mutilation. Her traumatic childhood experience was the reason she’d joined the military, to fight the dregs of the universe that felt the need to prey upon the helpless and unaware.
    Nowicki had made sure she hadn’t seen the bodies of the women raped and then killed by the Antareans back at the jump station. As fast as they’d responded, the lizard-bastards managed to mutilate two women. Guilt burned in her gut that they’d not been quick enough to save the women the horror.
    Killing the two Antareans in the control room had helped somewhat.
    So, no women on board the Galanti was a good thing as far as she was concerned.
    Space pirates, especially Erians, were almost as bad as Antareans in their treatment of captured women.
    “Are we secure for now?”
    “As far as we can be. The two levels we took had very few pirates.” Nowicki frowned. “I’m betting that the main thrust of the boarding party is on the level leading to the engine room and on the command deck.”
    “No bet there. It’s certain,” Mel said.
    Ensign J’ar approached them. “One of the prisoners says he knows you, Captain. The guy’s from Obam II. Has something to tell you. Won’t talk to anyone but you.”
    “Bring him.”
    J’ar loped over to a man on the end of the row of prisoners, lifted him up, and all but dragged the prisoner over to where she and Nowicki stood. J’ar handed the Obam male a com unit set to the current code.
    “Mistress Dmitros.” The man bobbed his head in greeting. He was a typical male from the Obam region. Thin and tall to the point of being a walking skeleton with skin colored a pale orange. His sky blue gaze met hers briefly then shifted to the floor.
    A brief memory of sharing a cool icy snack with him one very hot, dusty day flickered across her mind.
    “Slate, isn’t it? You dug for my parents on Obam IV.”
    “Yes, Mistress.” His eyes looked everywhere but at her. Obam males culturally avoided looking foreign females in the eyes; it was considered rude.
    “What are you doing with the pirates?”
    “Thought we was in it for money and goods.” That did not surprise her, that was why most of the Obam people helped with her father’s dig—for the chance to find and steal treasure. “But once on board found out differently. Then couldn’t leave. So, exist.” He shrugged.
    Slate didn’t act ashamed or even guilty. But she expected that. As far as he was concerned, he was not like the men he ran with.
    She reached deep inside and used the extra sense