Year 3051, the Earth calendar used on Terra-Mars

“Frax! My brain feels like it’s been spun out of cobwebs,” Sun Rocket muttered. She squeezed her eyelids open and shut several times, shifting slightly on the hard metallic surface. Expelling a breath, she attempted to open her eyes. “Frax it to the sun! More cobwebs,” she angrily complained.

Pressing her hand over her eyes, she sniffed carefully. Sterile, her surroundings, except for harmless micro dust--except for her--about half a day away from a bath or a good tongue licking. Experimentally she shoved with her foot. Half her usual body weight. She was probably inside some cargo hold, orbiting or...

Sun Rocket shot up to a sitting position. Her head spun at some undefined warp speed. Blinking rapidly, she forced one eye to remain open, seeing ubiquitous gray cargo containers randomly stacked around her. “How the friggin’ frax...?”

She fought to stand upright, assisted by the lessened gravity, and crashed into a tall stack of empty containers. Stumbling into more containers, she kicked at them, managing to knock them out of her way while her head whirled like a new-forming galaxy.

“Not like there’s going to be a port window in here,” she muttered derisively. Both eyes open now, she watched the wall circle before her impaired vision like a dimensional portal.

Steadier and steadier on her feet, her brain cobwebs clearing, she automatically reached for her left flank phase pistol. Gone! “Dang the villain! Of course!” she reminded herself. All her weapons would have been stripped during transport into the cargo hold by the beam.

What cargo hold?

Frustrated, wild, she lashed out at the nearest containers with her combat-trained feet--scattering them, semi-floating them away from her. Spying a dark, glass-looking monitor at the top of the hold, Sun Rocket shoved the nearest containers beneath it. Rapidly she threw containers together like a tower. Heedlessly she leapt up the huge makeshift steps, leaned her palms against the wall. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to examine the convex reddish monitor--not a type she knew.

“Get down from there!” a highly irritated male voice commanded in third galactic vernacular.

Wobbling precariously, Sun Rocket knelt on one knee. “Not like I can’t land on my feet like a cat,” she murmured, amused for an instant. Gazing down toward the voice’s origin, she saw the fierce male’s flowing locks, well past his shoulders--dark red amber. The humanoid-appearing male glared up at her, hands planted on his hips like a holo-romance buccaneer. From her view, the rest of him could be compared favorably to a lean, yet beautifully muscled hero. Even his garments--a style unknown to her in her far-flung galactic travels tracking down, taking in or eliminating cat shifters who had gone bad--even his garments were reminiscent of swashbuckling ancient Earth.

“Who are you?” she called down to him, resting on her haunches. It was her good luck moon, she was still in human form. Not every galactic race “appreciated” feline shifters. To put it tuna-fish mildly.

“This is my vessel. Get down now!”

Sun Rocket was surprised smoke didn’t billow forth from his ears and his mouth. If he’d been a dragon shifter--well, she could be coughing out lungfuls of nasty smoke.

“You failed to answer my question,” she flung down to him, tensed herself to do battle.

Ominously he pressed his belt, eliminating the gravity field. Her tower of containers floated, as she now floated, helpless. The next moment she fell downward, the gravity restored. Forcing herself not to shift, and land on her four cat paws, Sun Rocket twisted to land in a roll.

*

Enemy or not, Draxen admired the sleek power and the beautiful round curves of the woman preparing to land. If she had been in trouble, he would have caught her, captured her, then discovered who she was--and how she’d gotten in the way, intentionally or not, of his vessel’s transport beam.

Her unusual female fragrance, fiery and earthy, caused his blood to simmer. His cock tightened to life watching her mane of flaming red hair fly out behind her--his carnal appetite had always been for redheaded women.

Once she’d athletically landed, rolling, Draxen launched himself above her. He wanted control of her. He also wanted to know how sex-delicious she felt against him.

She yielded to his capture, his hands pressed over hers, his body partially covering hers, even though her desire to fight him was obvious in the strength and tension of her muscles. Her eyes held no fear of him. The sparks of defiance were kept veiled--hidden beneath the aqua shimmer of her eyes.

Draxen yielded to his own desire, studying her features--exotic high cheek bones, the strong face of a woman warrior, her jaw naturally defiant. In equal balance her face was sensually created, her lips full, luscious--her skin ivory, tinted with gold. He could have kissed the upturned tip of her adorable nose. Instead he stared at her tantalizing mouth.

“You could introduce yourself. Now that you have me at your mercy.” Her tone offered no challenge, yet brooked no nonsense from him.

“Your body begs to be with a man, intruder. Do you belong to a man now?”

Either his Creator smiled upon him, or guffawed over his trickery, Draxen wasn’t certain which, given he sailed the galactic sea toward Uresch in search of a suitable woman. One who could fool his family and the bevy of women they would sun-surely have lined up for him.

“What a charming compliment. How am I to answer without a proper introduction?”

She mocked him, her tone subtle. Her gaze did not waver, demanding his respect.

“You are aboard my vessel without invitation or authorization. I require your title, your name.” Draxen spoke officially, sternly, when all he really wanted was to taste how sumptuous her lips really were ... then...

“Why should I trust such knowledge to you? When I don’t know where I am. Or how I precisely ended up here.” Defiance flashed in her eyes ... and fierceness.

“What do you remember?” Draxen decided another course was needed if he was to gain answers--if he was to gain what his cock now begged for. Her silky green-golden bodysuit clung to every curve and was so thin...

She closed her eyes to recall. The transport beam must have scrambled her most recent memories.

“Spurnia ... the coast city of Brill ... I was walking along the dock ... going to meet a friend...” She halted, concentrating, frowning. “We ate a small meal together at an outdoor fishery ... I know. She wanted help locating her brother. He’s on a pleasure cruise, the Xroj quadrant. They hadn’t heard from him as he’d promised ... I have connections ... I was walking back, another route ... to watch the spaceships glide overhead, dock at the intergalactic port.” She paused, attempting to focus, to catch any glimpse of what came next in her mind.

“I docked at the intergalactic port. Minor repairs. Supplies ... spoke with an acquaintance over space brews.” Never mind the acquaintance had handed over the latest defense device on the black market--for a hefty price, paid for in Jerobb healing tea.

“There’s no cargo in here. What did you transport on board?” She eyed him with some suspicion.

“My sister’s wedding gift. One of them. A premium saddle for her racing llama.”

“Oh...” She burst out a breath, realizing what must have occurred. “Oh no ... I stopped at a pen of tiger-horses ... to pet them. They were near the tack market ... where you beamed up your saddle ... oh noooo,” she moaned.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Draxen murmured, wondering if it really was the wrong place at the wrong time. Or had fate played its hand? Intervened for him.

“Return me,” she announced, as if all he had to do was make a quick U-turn, drop her off, head on his way.

“Two ports ago. I can’t spare the time.”

She blinked. “How long have I been in here?” Alarm and anger rang in her voice.

“Two and a half days’ flight for me.”

She stared at him, her eyes burning aqua jewels. “You can’t keep me here.”

“No. My cargo hold could be destroyed. How about enjoying the favors of my bed?”

She wanted to claw his eyes out--he witnessed it in the depths of her eyes, in the clenching of her hands beneath his, strong for their smallish size.

“Leave me at the next port,” she suggested evenly.

“Uresch?” He raised his brows, waited.

Widening her eyes, she pumped several quick breaths in and out. “No, thank you,” she murmured. Her pulse raced fear. “I have no desire to be enslaved to a male’s ludicrous rutting whims.”

“Virgin?” he inquired, knowing it was unlikely--yet she wasn’t a female panting after any suitable male. That was star-point clear.

“Because I refuse sex enslavement...” She glared furiously. “--you consider me a possible virgin?”

“I consider you perfect for my rutting loins.”

“Quite obvious!” She glared leaping fire at him. “Given the intruding size of your shaft.” In protest, she pushed her hands against his. In a bid for freedom she twisted beneath him. Then she tested his strength. “Get off!” she warned, her eyes absolutely aqua beautiful in their savagery.

Draxen, trusting his luck to fate--his curiosity as aroused as his cock--didn’t “get off” her. She exploded beneath him, writhing so swiftly, so powerfully, she rolled onto her feet. He sprang up, facing her.

Braced for combat, her eyes gleaming like a warrioress, she demanded, “Leave me at the port after Uresch.”

“Can’t, lovely one. My sister’s wedding waits for none.”

She didn’t bother with speech. She launched an attack, not to harm him ... at first. She threw expert jabbing punches, measured his ability to counter. Rapidly their contest escalated, their hands and feet flying against each other. The thuds of flesh and bone fighting against each other, their breaths elevated--they searched for each other’s battling weakness. She only gave way before his power moves--merely spinning, trapping him with her superior agility.

On and on, they challenged each other as if they fought in a contest arena. The instant his smashing blows gained him possession of her, she whipped away, springing on top of a container.

From the height of a container she drove her heel into his jaw. Draxen reeled for a moment. He’d been too slow in avoiding her next move. Hold the sweet stars! The “lovely one” was an experienced fighter. She'd been around the galaxy, obvious as asteroids, knowing exactly how to battle him. And from all indications, was not desirous of his bed favors.

Soon to be changed, he decided. He further decided his optimal tactic was fighting her to exhaustion. Fortunately, he flew through a relatively benign area on his space route. And owned the time.

*

Sun Rocket jumped like a cat onto another container. She realized he now battled her to bring about her eventual weakness, then her defeat. The male wanted her as sexual prey ... for fornicating use while she was aboard his vessel. Even if she’d yearned for his carnal attention, it was a hugely bad idea. The feline in her would emerge--finally escape, ferocious and untamed ... demanding. No ... it was a tremendously bad idea for several reasons--all of them with potentially disastrous consequences. For her. And for him.

She whirled, crunched the side of his head with her foot. His fingertips only grazed her retreating foot as she somersaulted, landing on her feet a distance away from him. She waited.

“Who do you contract for?” he growled, a low cadence--assumed her lack of independence.

“No one,” she spat. “I work for my conscience. My people.” Frax! She should never have revealed she belonged anywhere. He could be a danger to her people.

Deliberately he charged, a tackling posture. Sun Rocket leapt aside, crashed the heel of her hand into the back of his neck. They squared off again.

“Kiss and make up?” he tossed, raised a brow, and quirked his mouth in a half smile.

“I don’t wish to hurt you.” She attempted negotiation. “All you have to do is let me off, soon as possible--the next passenger vessel.”

“Run invisible and silent. Don’t like space company. You being the beautiful exception.”

He lunged, striking as quick as a cobra cat. One boldly muscled arm wrapped around her waist briefly, before she, spinning, ripped out of his hold. She slapped the side of his knee with a kick, a split second allowing her to elude his next attempt to capture her against him.

Hand-springing away from him, her head suddenly clouded. She sank down in mid-motion, collapsed--exhausted before she should have been--normally. He dove on top of her. Instantly feeling her weakness, his grip lessened.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded gruffly. His palm pressed against her cheek.

“You!” she snapped, albeit not with any force. At least, her head was stable. She didn’t ache. She was simply drained to helplessness. “No...” she protested uselessly as he reached for a tiny health monitor, ran it over her.

“Electrolyte imbalance,” he announced, attaching the monitor to her neck for correction.

“Your victory by default.” Sun Rocket met his gaze, refused to yield anything more than the truth. His eyes--the color of deep shining bronze--seemed only concerned with her well-being. For the moment.

“By fate, lovely one.” Gently he pressed his palm to her forehead. “Your internal bio cell has kept you hydrated and adjusted for atmosphere. My admiration and gratitude to the designer--although I would have detected your presence sooner if the design was not so superior.”

Great unholy stars! Now he had the design specs for her bio cell. If he pursued an investigation, it wouldn’t take that long for him to trace it back to her home world. Sun Rocket moaned inside. Fate, as he labeled it, certainly did her no favors.

His fingers tangled in her hair briefly, slipped through the strands. “Real,” he murmured.

“All of me is ‘real’.” She bit with her tone. “Bio cell excluded,” she added, for the sake of honesty. Just to claw at him, she asked, “What about you? Mr. No Name. Any ‘enhancements’?”

He grinned, lifted her hair between his fingers, rubbed the texture gently. “Only genetically engineered ‘enhancements’ accomplished several generations ago.”

“Space mariner race?” she guessed, from experience and history studies.

He paused, she felt it. “Originally,” he acknowledged.

Sun Rocket held her tongue, held her mind back from any more questions. She knew why he had paused--some of the original space mariners had declared their freedom from servitude, had disappeared long galactic distances to create their own colonies. Colonies that remained isolated. Were even considered myth by some.

And ... she swallowed, suddenly realizing ... it had been some of her people’s ancestors who had aided in the genetic engineering, who had used his people as space-faring servants. Fate was exponentially worsening by the moment for her.

Including--no one would be trying to find her--since everyone knew she vanished on covert assignments regularly. There would only be concern if her father couldn’t contact her for an assignment. Sun Rocket swallowed again, her throat a tight ache. Her freedom to roam the galaxy obviously had its giant-mountain downside.

Fricken, fracken hell! How was she getting out of this field-of-asteroids mess?