Rogue Instinct Read online

  Rogue Intinct

  Rogue Star: Book Three

  Elin Wyn

  Ava York

  Contents

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Orrin

  Maris

  Epilogue - Maris

  Letter from Elin

  Rogue Sign

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  Given: Star Breed Book One

  Vrehx: Conquered World Book One

  About the Author

  Orrin

  “I suspect you may be the most intelligent member of our new crew mates,” I grumbled to the only other occupant of the engine room.

  “Power transfer conduit is connected to the fold coil which is connected to output shaft coupling which is connected to…that doesn’t look right.” I was pouring over the engine, trying to keep my head clear.

  The output shaft coupling was supposed to be connected to damper disc three that was connected to the output shaft, but for some reason, it had been moved and was now connected to damper disc two which had a more direct connection to the fold generator and the distributors.

  We had been away from Katzul for days now, headed towards Qasar Station, and we couldn’t get there quickly enough.

  We were forced to move slowly in order to avoid leaving behind a trail and to avoid leaving a big enough heat signature to be seen on a long-range scan.

  That meant that when I was sleeping, it was in short bursts, so I could wake up once an hour to monitor the engine’s output.

  And even if I was sleep deprived, I could see something wasn’t right.

  I set down my tools, grabbed my tablet, and called up the AI to run a simulation on what the effect of this new connection was. I didn’t like anyone messing with my engine.

  I had suffered that human, Maris, helping me rework things on my baby in order to change her output signature, but if she had messed with my output settings and made things worse, I was going to get her removed from my engineering bay.

  Huh.

  The AI came back with word that the new configuration was 8% more efficient than before and had been part of the signature rewrite process. I flipped the tablet off, set it down, and studied what had been done.

  That was interesting, but I didn’t like it.

  It was a more direct, and therefore, shorter connection, which meant that the engine didn’t have to work as hard. However, my concern was that damper disc two wasn’t built for that kind of connection and would short out faster. I took my notebook from my pocket, flipped to today’s page, and made note of what I had found and what I needed to do.

  “I’d appreciate you telling Maris to keep her hands off my engine,” I grumbled.

  Unfortunately, Persephone the cat wasn’t taking messages. Instead, she sauntered over, rubbed up against my back with a loud purr, then curled up in her little space in my tool box.

  Maris was an intelligent woman, probably the only one other than their doctor that I respected, but she had been given permission from the Captain to mess with my engine.

  Irritation at the thought still flared through me, like a rash, an itch I couldn’t reach.

  I had built this engine, then rebuilt it several times. I knew this engine as if it were my own child, and this human woman, with no knowledge of the Shein NX-01-T type engine or our fold technology, was going to tell me how to rewire it, reroute it, and rebuild it.

  Not likely.

  Her ideas had worked, I’d admit that. But, then she had been assigned to work in my engineering bay.

  Why?

  I already had my own crew, and they all knew not to mess with my engine unless they could guarantee that their work was going to be correct. Then this human comes in and wants to do things that just can’t possibly work.

  Every day, another idea, another fantasy that did nothing but reinforce how little she understood my baby.

  You couldn’t reroute the post-stage fold tuner assembly back into the intake collector with a series of filters to filter out the impurities caused by the fold. It just wasn’t a feasible action. The heat alone would force the cooling units to work exceedingly hard, and we didn’t have enough spares to replace all of them.

  Then, she wanted to rework my formula for dispensing the fuel. Really? How did that woman know anything about starship fuel?

  Speaking of fuel, while we weren’t running low, we certainly weren’t in an area to refuel. There were three stations more or less along the way to Qasar Station, all of them Dominion-controlled.

  Well, there was a chance that one of them was pirate-controlled, but no one knew for sure. It had changed hands at least three or four times a cycle in petty skirmishes.

  However, if we were forced to run and use the engines at full for longer than a few minutes, we wouldn’t have enough fuel to make it to Qasar safely. Which meant we might have to risk refueling at one of those station.

  It was a gamble.

  We couldn’t fold there, which would guarantee our arrival, because it would leave too strong of a signature and anyone looking for us would know exactly where we’d gone.

  “Every solution brings more problems.”

  Persephone had moved to my lap and was now rubbing her head against the tablet, rousing me from my thoughts.

  I blinked, realizing I’d been blanked out, staring at the screen, for nearly fifteen minutes.

  Scro. It felt like metal filings had worked their way into my eyes, my brain wrapped in insulation foam.

  And that couldn’t happen. I had to find a solution.

  I shook my head and got to my feet to stretch, which sent Persephone running in annoyance, and yawned until I could feel it in my toes.

  There had to be a way to give us speed without leaving behind a signature. I pulled up the blueprints of the engine and began cycling through different configurations, looking for efficiency, speed, and a negligible heat signature.

  I had to find a way to fix this. I couldn’t continue working the way I was, the crew couldn’t continue sitting around doing nothing, and I couldn’t handle another request for work from Maris.

  Not right now.

  Not ever, if I could help it.

  Maris

  I carefully balanced a tray piled high with some kind of smoked meat and vegetables. Aryn followed behind me with bread and something that resembled an Earth salad that’d been colored by a toddler. Parria brought up the rear, carrying a huge pot of steaming sauce.

  I didn’t understand why we still brought meals to the alien women in the cargo hold. It wasn’t as if their door was locked. Shenna and Kalyn had repeatedly told them they were free to move around the ship.

  It’d be nice if they felt free enough to take themselves to the dining hall.

  Though, if I had the option to lounge in my room all day while someone brought me food, I’d take it, at least for a while.

  Maybe they had some kind of complex? They’d been prisoners for ages, for all we knew. Maybe they forgot they had free will.

  God, that would suck.

  When we reached the cargo hold, I bumped the door open with my hip.

  “You’re late,” one of the alien g
irls said as she attempted a smile.

  She was joking. Probably. But she’d only just grasped the basics of Terran and it didn’t seem like she understand how tone affected the meaning of words.

  I forced my face to stay neutral, remembered they were guests. But still, she sounded like a spoiled madam. Her smile was unsettling, the way her mouth was shaped made me think that smiling wasn’t a natural gesture among her people, whoever they were.

  “Keep your pants on, we aren’t going to let you starve,” Aryn said when I didn’t say anything.

  “I do not understand,” the alien girl spoke again. Her white hair shone in the perpetually dim light of the cargo bay.

  Rescuing these alien girls was a great idea at the time. I mean, it was the right thing to do, but seriously, the consequences were a complicated pain.

  They were about to be sold off to rich perverts one by one when the Captain, Chief Aavat and our very own Kalyn and Shenna stepped in and smuggled them onto the Rogue Star.

  I wish I’d taken part in the rescue. I would’ve gladly smashed the face of anyone who tried to touch these women.

  And, to be honest, that’s probably why I wasn’t included in the mission.

  I still couldn’t believe it was Shenna, of all people, who’d found them. She and the first mate, Aavat, snuck off the ship a few times. I didn’t think she had the nerve to do something like that. In a weird way, I was proud of her. She always came off as innocent, maybe even a little naïve, but it turned out she has bigger balls than half the males on this ship.

  “You don’t have to understand,” I assured the white-haired alien girl, my temper back in check. “Come get some food.”

  The girls lined up as they always did, except for one. The same one that never moved from her spot in the back of the cargo hold. Her dark skin almost blended in completely with the dark steel of the hull, except she shimmered in the light, just a bit. Her eyes looked like amber pebbles. I swear, she never blinked.

  She creeped me out, and honestly, I thought I’d been doing pretty well with the whole tossed into space, surrounded by aliens who thought I was the alien thing.

  The ship’s doctor Lynna, who was more of a mother than my own mother ever was, used to worry about Amber-Eyes when she didn’t eat.

  But it’d been nearly a week, so I guess Amber-Eyes belonged to a species that didn’t need to eat often.

  Lynna still fretted, because that’s what she did. Maybe it was part of being a good doctor.

  But with every step as I moved through the cargo hold, passing out food and putting on my nice face, I noticed Amber-Eyes following me with her unblinking gaze.

  Every moment I felt her eyes on my neck and back as if she was pressing her fingers against my skin.

  It didn’t take long for me to get fed up with it.

  “Can you hold this for me?” I pushed my empty tray at Aryn.

  She scrambled to take it without dropping her own. “What the hell, Maris?” she grumbled, but I’d already walked away. I crossed the cargo bay and stopped a few feet from Amber-Eyes.

  “Is there something wrong?” I asked.

  Her expression twisted into something fierce and ugly.

  She rose to her feet faster than a human would’ve been able to do, hell, faster than I’d ever seen anyone move. She bent her arms inward, exposing the black talons that stuck out of her elbows.

  She spoke to me, but I couldn’t understand a word of it. Her language sounded like a hissing snake.

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about,” I groaned. “There’s no need to be a hostile bitch!” I threw my hands up in exasperation.

  Amber-Eyes hissed and swung at me with extended claws that looked like miniature versions of the talons on her elbows.

  “Big mistake,” I snapped, blood rushing through my ears.

  “Maris!” Aryn appeared at my side. “I don’t think Captain Dejar would like it if you battered one of our charity cases,” she muttered to me.

  “She’s going to batter me!” I said in defense.

  “She’s a nutter for sure, but be the bigger person,” Aryn insisted.

  Aryn was the best friend I’ve ever had. We met on Persephone Station years ago when my temper was twenty times more explosive than it was now. She was good at talking me out of a rage, though she wasn’t known for her mellow disposition, either.

  For some reason, people always thought the best way to get me to stop being angry was to say things like relax, calm down, or the dreaded take a deep breath.

  Aryn figured out early on that a healthy dose of do you know how dumb you’re being? was the best way to take the fire out of me.

  “Fine.” I stepped away from Amber-Eyes, who still looked like she was ready to kill me.

  “She’s just psychotic because she went through hell,” Aryn reminded me.

  “I know, I know,” I nodded. “But the others went through hell, too. You don’t see them glaring at everyone, putting the evil eye on anyone trying to help.”

  “You know better than anyone that people cope in different ways,” Aryn reminded me.

  “When did you get so wise?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a shining example of healthy coping mechanisms, I know.”

  “She won’t be with us forever,” Aryn reminded me. “Just try not to punch her lights out while she’s here.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed, the anger settling back down into a dull heat behind my breastbone. “Now, you need to mess something up, so I can lecture you.”

  “It’s not even midday yet,” Aryn laughed.

  “I know! You’re behind schedule,” I replied. I risked a glance at Amber-Eyes. She still stared at me, unblinking. Different types of alien behaviors or not, it wasn’t hard to guess she was seething with anger. “I think I’m going to go.”

  “Smart choice.” Aryn patted my shoulder.

  The other human woman, Parria, stared at me with wide eyes as I left the room.

  I’d told Commander Kalyn that putting me on the care rotation wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t have those naturally nurturing tendencies women like Lynna had.

  Though, aside from Amber-Eyes, I actually liked the other alien women well enough. They’d had it rough, even rougher than us human women. And we had been mere moments from being exposed to the vacuum of space, so that was saying something.

  I wasn’t sad to leave Katzul. That place was weird, and my definition of weird had changed considerably over the last few weeks.

  Aliens?

  No, that wasn’t weird to me anymore.

  Aliens putting on fancy clothes to go and buy other aliens?

  Yes, extremely weird.

  And disgusting. Even Amber-Eyes didn’t deserve a fate like that.

  She was still a bitch, though.

  I stomped through the halls. My sisters always told me I moved like a tornado. Everyone knew when I was coming. Everyone knew when I was going.

  I tried my best not to destroy things as I moved. Sometimes it happened anyway.

  Sometimes I felt bad about it.

  But most of the time I had other things on my mind, projects, interesting, exciting things to build or take apart. I couldn’t ever figure out how to keep working on my puzzles and dance around delicately at the same time.

  I made my way to the engineering workshop near the rear of the ship. A station had been set up as my workspace, but I was still settling in.

  I had been the Head Engineer on Persephone Station. Technically, I was the only engineer, so the Head Engineering position was mine by default.

  Humility be damned, I was one of the best engineers in the Terran System.

  The best thing about the station being destroyed, being dragged into an alien universe, and probably never going home?

  Brand new, interesting tech to learn.

  I was immediately put to work on the Rogue Star, which was great. I loved my work.

  It was fun getting to know the inner workings of an alien spaceship.


  Unfortunately, the Head Engineer of the Rogue Star was not enthusiastic about sharing a workspace. Orrin was a talented engineer. We might not be the best of friends, but I could give credit where credit was due.

  But as talented as Orrin was, he had a bit of a problem with sharing.

  I felt qualified to comment on this, because I was honest enough to know I had one, too.

  Since he was technically my superior, he decided who did what job.

  And morning, noon, and night, he had me doing basic upkeep jobs I could do in my sleep. It was unbelievably dull. And frustrating. And annoying.

  Though I hadn’t been aboard long, I already had so many ideas to make the ship operate more efficiently.

  Orrin never listened, though. Clearly, he didn’t trust anyone else with his ship. One day, I’d prove to him that I could take on more complex jobs without blowing us into a black hole.

  But, for now, I had to be content to tinker at the workbench.

  I sat down at the workbench and picked up pieces of scrap.

  Working with my hands melted the tension right off my bones.

  I forgot about Amber-Eyes, grumpy-pants Orrin, and everything else immediately and entered my happy place.

  Orrin

  Something was wrong.

  Things were moved, put in different places, and other things were in my area that I knew, or at least thought I knew, I hadn’t put there.

  I rubbed my eyes, whole body aching.

  The lack of sleep was messing me up, I knew… but still. I knew my workbench.

  Knew my tools.

  And someone had been rearranging them.