Claimed By the Starbreaker (The Zorathi Pirate Chronicles #1)

Chapter 1

The flashing red lights weren’t helping my headache. Neither was the klaxon that had been screaming for an hour. Both were actively making it worse. The large silver wrench in my hand was waiting for its moment to shine—to fulfill its one noble purpose.

I smashed it into the light.

The glass bulb shattered. Its remains fell to the ground like the crystalline raindrops this planet was famous for.

I glanced at the wrench. I swear it was smiling at me.

It might not have been how Dad taught me to fix things, but I don’t think he would have complained. One problem solved, on to the next.

I sat down at the computer terminal and logged in. My fingers typed to the beat of the AHHH-WOOO alarms, and I did a little chair dance, pretending I was in the Star’s End again, the premier orbital dance club at Solaris Prime—hundreds of light-years from this remote outpost.

But that’s what you get for having PhDs in Stellar Physics and Astrobiology.

There’s not much demand in the VIP section of the galaxy's hottest clubs for a woman who waxes poetic about red dwarves and alien archeological digs.

Although these alarms were making me almost miss standing at the bar listening to some attractive jerk drone on about how his finance degree was making him so much money. Almost.

A notification blinked onto my screen—a subspace transmission from Director Voss.

Speaking of attractive jerks.

I opened the message.

His blue eyes pierced through the static, and my breath caught. Slicked-back black hair, high cheekbones, bronzed skin—annoyingly perfect. It was like a sick cosmic joke. My boss, Mister polished, handsome corporate prince…

“Another request, Dr. Vale? Is there anything you can do on your own?”

I should add massive asshole to that description.

“Kira, I need you to stop sending me so many messages about systems you’re breaking.”

Condescending jerk, come on up to the top of the list!

“We are paying you to make the company money, not make the company spend money. Your request for additional parts and funding is denied. Please, do better in the future.”

I closed one of my eyes, put his head between my forefinger and thumb, and squeezed. He smiled.

“On a separate note, your tour ends in two weeks. I’ve scheduled your final feedback session, and I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of making a reservation at the Heart’s Desire.

It just got a fifth Michelin star. Best seafood restaurant this side of Andromeda!

Please, no more messages. Be a big girl and figure out your problems yourself.

It’s not my job to save you every time something falls apart. ” With a wink, he ended the recording.

First, ew. I hated seafood. Second, double ew that he was trying to get in my pants via a good feedback report.

I looked over at the wrench. This time, it raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

Maybe all that message needed was a little metal massage.

I had been out here for eleven and a half months, and the only thing that screen had shown me was sanctimonious message after sanctimonious message.

Words directed at somebody none of the Directors even saw.

I was invisible to them. A floating body at the edge of the known universe.

An attractive charity project that nobody really wanted to hear from.

Instead of smashing his face in, I sat up straight, rolled my shoulders back, shook out my hair, and hit record.

“Director Voss. This station is falling apart. I’ll be lucky to last two weeks with the second-rate materials your company used to construct this hovel.

The only sound more annoying than the constant klaxons that have been going off for the last month is your pretentious voice telling me to make do.

At the same time, you sip a martini with a bunch of blowhards that couldn’t spell xenomorphology, let alone find a woman who would actually want to go to a fancy restaurant with you that you aren’t paying by the hour!

Not that there is anything wrong with that. For her. Not for you. You suck.”

I stopped the recording and nodded. Perfect.

Just what he needed to hear. Absolutely nothing could go wrong by sending that.

I put my finger over the transmit button.

Best decision ever. I’m going to put him right in his place.

Hell, I might even get a promotion for telling the truth!

Director Dr. Kira Vale! That had a nice ring to it.

Or I get fired. Blackballed. Shunned. Have to move back in with my parents and hear my Mom tell me I needed to find a good man. My Dad telling me that sometimes it’s better to be seen, not heard. My chest tightened. I guess he had never experienced a job where they didn’t want to see or hear you.

I deleted the message.

Thunder roared outside. The room plunged into darkness.

I jumped out of my seat, turning on the flashlight attached to my chest. I sprinted to the habitat’s main breaker.

Everything had been tripped. A lightning strike must have hit one of the generators.

The emergency backup generator whined to life.

The primary system display screen flickered on, and my eyes went wide.

Life support was toast—40% and dropping. If they got below 20%, I'd feel like I was hiking the Himalayas with no oxygen. My breath crystallized, and a shiver wracked my body.

Shit, shit, shit!

Now the temperature regulator was failing.

That was the only thing keeping me from being instantly frozen.

The planet’s daytime temperature was negative three hundred degrees Celsius!

I cursed Director Voss and sprinted back to the habitat’s communications suite.

I flipped the black-and-yellow-striped box open and stared at the red knob.

The Emergency beacon. It guaranteed a rescue in three hours.

At least, that’s what the company had told me.

I had a feeling it wasn’t the complete truth.

Then again, maybe Director Voss would break protocol to save me, since we had a dinner date scheduled.

I’m sure I was special, and he definitely didn’t have dinner dates planned with all of his female subordinates. Right?

That’s if the pirates didn’t get here first, which these beacons had been known to attract. My choices were: Death by asphyxiation. Death by freezing. Death by pirates. Death by boring dinner conversation.

I could handle pirates and boring dinner conversation. I liked breathing, and I hated the cold.

I pressed the button.

A distant thump echoed through the habitat, and the emergency beacon screen printed out a series of words:

Beacon launch successful. Estimated rescue time: 11:59:32

“Three hours, my ass. Lying corporate bastards.” I muttered. Mostly to myself. The wrench definitely sympathized.

I checked the oxygen readout. 20%.

I stood there in the dim emergency lighting, listening to the habitat groan around me.

The wind outside howled like something dying.

Twelve hours. I had to survive twelve hours in a station that was actively trying to kill me, hoping the rescue ship arrived before whatever else was lurking out here.

Pirates it was. They definitely would get here faster than anything else.

Every deep-space scientist knew the stories. Beacons were public broadcasts—distress signals that anyone could pick up. Including the ships that made their living taking people who didn't want to be taken.

I ran to the airlock and slipped into an evac suit, catching a glimpse of myself in the viewport's reflection—wild copper hair escaping from where I'd pinned it back, pale skin flushed from exertion, green eyes a little too wide. I looked exactly like a woman whose day had gone catastrophically sideways. I connected to the habitat’s mainframe and checked the oxygen levels.

15%

Shit, balls, fuck!

This day was going from bad to worse. I sealed my suit’s helmet, and the eighteen-hour internal oxygen supply countdown started. Well, at least I could cross off freezing and choking to death. I’ll take the win.

I reached for a wall as the ground trembled beneath my feet. My eyes snapped to the glass viewport above the airlock. A massive silhouette drifted through the storm clouds overhead. The screen on my helmet displayed the vessel’s signature:

ZORATHI CORSAIR-CLASS VESSEL

A ball of ice filled my stomach, and I stumbled forward.

The pirates were already here. They must have already been in-system and micro-jumped as soon as the beacon launched.

I picked up my wrench and wrapped both hands around it.

I might not be as strong as they are or have a blaster, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Human Researcher. We have received your beacon. Your habitat’s life support systems have failed. State your condition.”

That had to be the captain—too confident, too calm, and just a little too amused for the chaos I was living through.

I toggled my mic. “Like you care. You’re just going to kill me or do other terrible things to me, so take your fake concern and shove it right up your ass, pirate scum!”

“Human Researcher,” another voice said. Kinder, gentler. “I am Lyrin, the Starbreakers medic. I apologize for Captain Torvyn’s tone. We are here to help. I promise, no harm will come to you. I have locked onto your evac suit, and its readings are concerning me. Has your suit been damaged?”

“This is a waste of time, humans are trouble!” The first voice interrupted.

“Captain,” a deeper, smoother voice said, “I’m reading her scientific transmissions. She is… impressive.”

Well, that recognition was nice. Is he single? Wait, why am I thinking about that? I feel dizzy. What’s that sucking sound? I ran my hands down my suit legs and stopped. There was a golf ball-sized hole in my right suit leg.

“Guys, I think I am in trouble.”

“I thought you said she was intelligent?” The Captain said.

“Hey, you, I am smart. I’m a doctor. You're just a pirate,” I coughed out a sharp laugh. “Argh, matey. Let loose the main sails, you scaliwags!”

What was I saying?

“Captain,” Lyrin said, his voice tight. “She is suffering from oxygen deprivation. We need to rescue her now.”

“Fine, but I don’t trust her. For all we know, this is a trap. Land the ship. Kaedren, as soon as we touch down, pick her up.”

"You can't just—I didn't ask to be rescued by pirates!" I said, my voice thin and reedy. Even I could hear how ridiculous that sounded. Yes, please let me die with my principles intact. That'll show them.

"Fine by me. You can turn into a human-shaped ice cube for all I care. Prepare for the upper atmosphere."

"Wait! Okay, fine, yes, rescue me!" I hated how quickly I caved. A new personal record. "But I'm lodging a formal complaint with your manager!"

"I’ll let him know myself,” Torvyn drawled. “In the meantime, Kaedren is already outside your airlock." I looked up. A massive four-armed humanoid stood in the swirling storm light, watching me with glowing blue eyes.

He gripped the airlock door, ripped it open like it weighed nothing, and leaned in.

“Dr. Kira Vale,” he said softly. “Your rescue begins now.”