Prime Obsession by Monette Michaels Read Free Book Online Page A

that no one knew about and that had saved her many times to read the Obam.
    His energy was calm and his aura read as truthful as any of his race ever did. His voice presented the facts as they were—or as he perceived them to be. The Obam were like that, they took things as they came and adapted. The morality of it all was as fluid as their adaptive lifestyle. She’d bet he’d avoided the killing during raids. No Obam male she’d ever met had the balls to kill. They were even vegans. Stealing was okay, but killing was not in their genetic makeup.
    “You know men like me, Mistress. We do not kill. Slate waited for escape.”
    “Do you believe him, Captain?” J’ar’s Volusian pale blue skin tones had darkened to a deeper blue, almost as dark as a deep space void. J’ar was angry.
    While Volusians were a warrior race, like the Prime, they abhorred anyone who fought without honor. Even more, they despised ambiguous morality like Slate’s. To J’ar, Slate was just as evil as a warrior without honor.
    “Yes. Obam males are like that.” She looked at Slate who smiled and good-naturedly nodded his agreement with her conclusion.
    “Yes, Mistress. What happen to Slate now?”
    “You will sit with the other prisoners. Later, once we control the ship, I’ll make sure you are sent back to Obam for judgment.”
    “Thank you, thank you, Mistress Dmitros.” Slate bowed his head, his chin almost touching his chest. Bringing his sly blue gaze to look past her right ear, he said, “You can not make way to the Prime crew in the engine room. There are many, many pirates left.” Obviously, Slate had been Nowicki’s source for the pirate head count. “Most of them are lizard-people. Very, very bad, mistress. They not need air as much as human-types and tough to kill.”
    Lizard-people was Slate’s name for the Erians.
    With Slate’s extra information, Nowicki’s decision to stop at two levels was even more judicious. Erians were damn hard to fight. Their skin was thick and leathery. Lasers would merely sear them and they’d continue to fight, even more enraged. Just as the Antareans she’d killed on the jump station, knives to their main blood supply was the best way to kill them quickly. Damn. Her men would have to fight hand-to-hand.
    The risks had just increased. And the self-destruct clock still ticked in her mind.
    “How many, Slate? An estimate is fine.”
    “Still living? One hundred, maybe?” He looked around the docking bay, his eyes reflecting his skepticism. “You have not enough men to take them. Why not bring more?”
    “Later. I need to establish contact with the Prime.” She turned to Nowicki. “Looks like the maintenance tunnels are the best bet to get to the engine room.”
    “No! No! Mistress do not do that. Slate could never face your sire Dmitros again here or in the afterlife. There is death in the tunnels. Five men went in and never came out. Please do not go.”
    “Thank you for the warning, Slate, but I know what I’m doing.” She smiled at the Obam man.
    Slate muttered dire warnings in a mixture of Obamian and Alliance Standard, his head shaking side-to-side with his agitation.
    “Ensign J’ar take good care of Slate.” She glanced at the line of prisoners, who eyed Slate with narrowed, angry glares. Many of the Erians would kill Slate if they could.
    “Might be a good idea to keep him away from the others. Have one of the guards get any other intel from him that they can. He is not lying.”
    “Thank you, Mistress.” Slate bowed his head.

    A still skeptical J’ar led Slate away.
    Mel turned to A’tem and Nowicki. “We have, by my count, very few hours left on the countdown clock. I want you to take the away teams and the prisoners off the ship and dock with the Leondias outside the blast perimeter and stay there until I give the all clear.”
    “What in the frigging hell are you planning, Mel?” Nowicki hissed under his breath.
    Her second only called her Mel when they