Frrar Read online

  Frrar

  Layla Nash

  Juno Wells

  Ravenheart Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by Layla Nash

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Kasmit Covers.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Connect with Juno

  Also by Layla Nash

  Also by Juno Wells

  Chapter 1

  Maisy

  Maisy frowned as she charged another wound-healer and attached it to the fractured arm of one of the younger Xaravian crewmembers. It had taken two days for the young warrior to finally admit he was in pain, and instead of facing Mrax, the Xaravian doctor, he chose instead to slink into Maisy’s sick bay. Apparently it was less humiliating to ask for assistance from the human doctor, since she didn’t rate the same kind of respect or admiration as the grim Xaravian doc.

  She fumed, clenching her jaw until she heard her teeth grind, and turned away before she said something she regretted. The Xaravian sat quietly at least, though Cecily Griggs, the security officer seated on the empty gurney and swinging her legs like a kid, wouldn’t keep her damn mouth shut.

  “Jess is doing much better. That clinic figured something out with the antidote and managed to synthesize some kind of proteins that reversed a lot of the damage. She and Trazzak are going to head back to Dablon Seven to clean up some of the boneyard and figure out how many of the traitor’s old ships they can resurrect.”

  And thus why Maisy fumed. She’d been the one to go with Trazzak and Jessalyn to Dablon Seven, when Jess was dying from some mysterious toxin and they had to figure out who among the rebels was trying to betray them and turn everyone over to the Alliance. Maisy had been there, not Griggs or Violet or Isla. And yet still Isla insisted that Maisy stay behind, since it was too dangerous to confront the Dablonians and try to purchase the super-advanced-weapon-whatever that they’d developed to sell to the Alliance.

  Maisy was just the ship’s doctor. She was just the one who’d saved all their lives at least once, some of them more than that. And Griggs would be a walking pile of broken bones if it weren’t for Maisy’s expertise and patient tending. She put up with more bullshit than anyone else on the ship.

  And still they didn’t treat her like a real adult, a real officer.

  After their old captain sold the female members of the crew to a passing Xaravian ship, Maisy hadn’t been completely on board with staying with the rebels and their shoddy ship and questionable manners and antiquated medical knowledge. They’d dragged everyone into one catastrophic “adventure” after another, and Maisy gritted her teeth and went along because they needed her. And she’d sworn an oath as a doctor to take care of her crew. She’d do it even if it scared her out of her mind and made her want to pee and almost killed her.

  Griggs picked at her cuticles, still muttering something about the Dablonians and traitors. Maisy didn’t look up from adjusting the settings on the wound-tender. “How long are they going to be out there?”

  “Hard to say,” Griggs answered. She rolled on her side on the gurney, frowning as she watched Maisy work. “Apparently the traitor amassed quite a collection of old ships and rusty buckets. Vrix thinks we can resurrect a whole fleet of fast ships, but I’m not so sure. It could be weeks, maybe months.”

  Maisy’s eyes narrowed. “Well, when I was out there, it looked like three or four dozen frames and two or three times as many junkers. So I’m sure they can start piecing things together.”

  “That’s right,” Griggs said. “You were out there when Trazzak tried to arrest Jess. I keep forgetting.”

  “Yeah, well, everyone keeps forgetting.” Maisy pointed her “I mean business finger” at the young Xaravian and tried out the few commands she knew in Xarav. “Rest. Don’t move.”

  He nodded and mumbled something, his scales still a little yellow-orange with pain. He wouldn’t ask for painkillers—none of them would. She’d learned that the hard way in the first few weeks of treating the Xaravians. Along with their prickly senses of honor and the elaborate rules they had for combat and food and pretty much everything, they refused to show weakness. And acknowledging pain was clearly a weakness.

  She rolled her eyes and hooked a small pain management capsule to the tender, dialing it up until the Xaravian’s eyes went half-closed and he relaxed for the first time since he’d walked in.

  Maisy went to the supply closet to start restocking everything, unable to stand still with Griggs still there.

  The security officer sounded carefully disinterested. “I guess it’s been easy to focus on Jess and Trazzak as being the center of that adventure. You and Frrar both went along. How was that, being in a small crew?”

  Maisy repeated the doctors’ oath a few times under her breath as she struggled to find calm. “It was fine. Don’t you have something to do? Surely your mate needs some supervision.”

  “Nah,” Griggs said, still so casual that it set Maisy’s teeth on edge.

  She’d never been good at confrontation, except when in the middle of a medical crisis, of course. Then she could even put Vaant, the big captain of the Galaxos and Isla’s mate, right in his place if needed. But the rest of the time...

  Maisy gestured at the other side of the room where the large bins bolted to the wall kept the extra supplies. “If you insist on lingering here and annoying me, make yourself useful and bring me more of the regeneration capsules and the life-support sensors.”

  “Something going on, Cunningham?” Griggs asked, but at least she went to the bins and started pulling out the supplies Maisy asked for. “What’s with the attitude?”

  “I’m sick of everyone acting like I’m some kind of helpless, ridiculous child,” Maisy said. It was easier to speak her mind with her back to Griggs, since that way she didn’t see the security officer’s expression. Maisy didn’t think she could take it if Griggs laughed at her. “I’m a doctor. I’m the youngest doctor ever certified by the Fleet Academy. I’m brilliant. And yet all of you still treat me like I’m… like I’m…” She trailed off, staring at the cupboards but not really seeing them.

  “Like you’re our kid sister?” Griggs finished. She dumped a few armfuls of the supplies onto the counter next to Maisy, but at least she didn’t insist on seeing Maisy’s face. The security officer didn’t return to the bins but instead leaned against the counter and studied the rest of the sick bay and the spaced-out Xaravian ensign. “What’s the big deal?”

  “How much do you enj
oy it when Vrix tells you what to do because he’s trying to keep you safe?” Maisy planted both fists on the counter so she wouldn’t throw the supplies around. She needed to breathe and try to meditate and get control of herself. They definitely wouldn’t trust her with any important missions if she had a damn temper tantrum in the middle of an argument. “How well does that work out?”

  “It’s not the same,” Griggs said quietly. “Look, Maisy, I know we’re tough on you and maybe we try to shelter you a little from—”

  “A little?” Maisy scoffed and folded her arms over her chest, turning enough to scowl at the other woman. “I’m a Fleet officer, the same as you. I mean, I was a Fleet officer. Just like you. I passed the same tests that you did, I went through the same training, and I qualified on the same weapons. Most of the same weapons. You can’t treat me like I’m some... some... helpless civilian. And yet you do. All of you do. And I’m sick of it!”

  “We don’t want you to get hurt,” Griggs said quietly. She reached to touch Maisy’s arm. “Come on. It’s because we love you and worry about you and need you to be safe and fine. Who the hell is going to patch me and Jess up when we do stupid shit? We can’t risk losing you.”

  “That’s not your choice to make,” Maisy said, and her voice went high and almost cracked. She wanted to stomp her foot and run away when her vision blurred. She hated crying when she got mad, but she couldn’t help it. It would just make Griggs treat her like even more of a little kid. “Damn it. It’s my choice. If I want to go off and do something stupid, I don’t need you telling me not to do it and protecting me from myself. I can be just as stupid and reckless as you.”

  Griggs started to smile just a touch, like she wanted to laugh, and that just made Maisy angrier. “Honey, it’s not a bad thing that you’re not a reckless idiot like the rest of us. It’s more mature and safer and just smarter.”

  Maisy clenched her fists at her sides. “That’s not what I meant, and—”

  An alarm beeped through the ship and then the comms system flared to life in the sick bay. “Officer Griggs to the loading dock. We have a distressed ship approaching and requesting to board.”

  The security officer turned into the serious officer she’d always been and immediately went for the door. Maisy started to go after her, but Griggs shook her head. “Stay here, Maisy. We don’t know who or what is trying to board. It’s safer here.”

  Which just made Maisy want to scream, since she’d just talked to Griggs about not wanting to be treated like fine china. The security officer headed for the dock at a jog, and Maisy took off after her once she grabbed her portable medical bag. At least her job allowed her to get kind of close to the chaos, so long as Mrax didn’t beat her there. She gritted her teeth and wiped the last of her angry tears away. She could do this. She would prove to the rest of the crew that Maisy was just as tough and capable as all the other officers. Or she’d die trying.

  Chapter 2

  Frrar

  Frrar searched for the extension pipe for his laser torch, needing to weld a few more relays together before they distributed the complicated communications system to their other ships. Trazzak wanted even more of them to go along with the ships he planned to resurrect out of the deserts of Dablon Seven, which meant Frrar had to keep scrounging up parts and cobbling together the sophisticated machinery. He enjoyed the challenge, even if he’d rather have been on Dablon Seven piecing together ships instead.

  The rebels sent several engineering crews to the planet ahead of Trazzak and Jess, since Trazzak apparently didn’t want just Frrar running around putting things together. The overall plan was to resurrect a variety of different ships with different signatures, so they could blend in across more galaxies, and for that they needed a whole constellation of engineering specialties. Which left Frrar on the Galaxos, fumbling with his laser torch and trying to fine-tune the electronics within the relays.

  The distress call sent a shiver through the Galaxos as the ship slowed, and Frrar peered out one of the docking bay openings to search space for a hint of the disabled vessel. Something about wanting to come aboard. His scales rattled when he caught the first hint of the distressed ship, and a familiar marking on the hull dragged him back a decade through space and time. The sandsnake had crawled out of his hole and tracked Frrar down.

  His eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth. Faros. Both his hearts started to pound with rage. If the bastard thought he could just walk onto Frrar’s ship and act as if nothing had happened... Faros had another thing coming. He’d face the business end of Frrar’s dagger before he’d set foot on the Galaxos.

  Before he could reach for the comms console to alert the bridge to what a scheming piece of trash they were about to let on the ship, the bay doors opened and Vaant strode in. “Get the crane ready. Xaravians sent out a distress call, and we’re—”

  “Let them drift,” Frrar said, folding his arms over his chest.

  The captain’s dark eyebrows rose and the spikes on his shoulders stood up. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “That’s the Sraibur,” Frrar said. He clenched his jaw and refused to engage the long arm that would dock with the ship and allow the crew to board the Galaxos without depressurizing either of the ships. “Faros’s ship.”

  It took a moment for recognition to dawn on Vaant’s face, since Frrar never discussed his family. The tale of his estranged brother had only been brought up once, when Frrar first joined the Galaxos crew, and never mentioned again. Which was how Frrar preferred things. Faros was too obstinate to just disappear quietly and die like the sandsnake he was, but Frrar wasn’t going to waste another second of his life thinking about his brother. Or thinking about how he ought to murder the cheating bastard.

  Vaant’s scales rattled and some of the red irritation faded as realization dawned. “Your brother.”

  “Yes.” Frrar ignored the insistent hailing calls and the Sraibur’s efforts to dock with the Galaxos. “Let them fucking drift. I don’t care what he’s told you, but that dirty sandsnake is just using this as an opportunity to steal from us and further dishonor my family. We are better off leaving them to deep space and going on about our business.”

  “I cannot let another warrior—or a rebel ship—languish in space, and you know it.” Vaant shook his head and went to the levers to begin lowering the boom so they could capture the sleek pirate ship that Faros had had the temerity to name after their mother. “You know that. It’s against the law and against our code. If we turn our back on those traditions, there will be no one to assist when we need the help.”

  “He would never risk his ship or his crew to help another, unless he thought he could ransom them for a hefty profit.” Frrar put aside his tools to pick up weapons instead. He wasn’t going to allow Faros to jeopardize the Galaxos and her mission. Or her crew, including the half dozen Earther women who still worked alongside the Xaravians. Frrar wasn’t mated to any of them, but he wasn’t about to let his estranged brother jeopardize the women. Faros might have fallen in with slavers as well as pirates, even though the thought made Frrar’s lip curl. “There’s some other trick here, Captain. We shouldn’t trust him—”

  Vrix sauntered in, his expression guarded. “Shouldn’t trust whom?”

  “His brother,” Vaant said, still maneuvering the boom and sealing the locks on it so they wouldn’t accidentally detach from the Sraibur in the middle of the transfer.

  “We should have just used the transporter,” Frrar said. “Would have been faster.”

  “It still occasionally turns things inside out,” Vrix said with a sideways look. “Or backward. Or just dead. You’d wish that on your brother?”

  “That and more,” Frrar said, gritting his teeth. He stayed back, gripping the charged stunner until his hands ached.

  The other two Xaravians exchanged looks, and Vaant said quietly, “There is some bad blood there. We can discuss it later. For now—the other ship claimed to be in distress, so we will render aid. That
said, Frrar has been adamant that his brother is a pirate and outlaw and likely to either steal from us or otherwise betray us. Keep your eyes open.”

  “That’s not a problem,” Vrix said. He still looked far too relaxed for Frrar’s liking. “He flies for the rebels though, from what they sent across comms.”

  Frrar snorted, bracing himself as the first Xaravians ducked into the transporter arm and began the slow, careful trek through space to the Galaxos. “He’ll fly for whoever pays him the most, and half the time he’s only flying for himself regardless of who’s paying him. He’ll say all the right things and mean not a single one of them. Faros only cares about himself. He destroys everything he touches.”

  His voice cracked and in a heartbeat his scales went crimson-purple with grief, the shades of his lost love mixing with the fury of knowing her murderer walked free. His captain and the security chief both stared at him, on the verge of asking uncomfortable questions, and Frrar braced himself against the rage that would no doubt boil up if he had to think about all that Faros had taken from him.

  The bay doors opened once more and Griggs arrived, striding in with a businesslike expression, and Frrar watched all of Vrix change the moment his mate appeared. The imposing Xaravian relaxed and a hint of blue and purple swirled in his scales as he regarded the beautiful Earther. It only made Frrar more aware of what he didn’t have.