Rock Hard Alien (Starlight Alien Mail Order Brides #10)

Prologue

The ship was about to crash and it was Cairn's fault. He furiously pushed the buttons in front of him, but he knew it was too late. The ship was tumbling through the atmosphere and no matter what he did, he couldn't regain control. The only thing to do now was to ensure they survived the crash.

“We need our enviro-suits!” Sten shouted from the other side of the bridge. “There is no data on the planet's atmosphere!”

Cairn didn't know the name of the planet they were getting uncomfortably close to.

It wasn't on any map. And if he hadn't disabled the autopilot to update the systems, they would never have got anywhere near it.

It was his fault. And if he didn't find a way to soften the impact, his friends' blood would be on his hands.

If he still had hands after the crash. It was likely they'd be pulverised unless he got the shields working again.

Cloch. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Not now, not here, in a forgotten corner of the galaxy, on a planet nobody had charted yet.

“The door won't open!” Hallr yelled, wings flapping furiously. “I can't get to the suits!”

There was no reason the door to the bridge would be locked. That wasn't part of the systems that Cairn had disabled. Warning lights flashed across the screens, too many to count. Everything was malfunctioning. This was bigger than a failed update.

Cairn slammed his hand on the reset button. Nothing happened.

He turned to Hallr, who was banging against the door as if trying to break through by sheer force.

They all knew that was impossible. The bridge was the most secure part of the ship, with thick walls and doors to protect them from weapons damage, fires, intruders.

But Hallr was known to be impulsive, a gharrgoil who acted before he thought.

“Try the emergency override!” Cairn shouted.

Hallr stopped trying to break the door down and fumbled with the panel to his right. The ship lurched to the side. Cairn's seatbelt cut into his shoulders, but it held. He saw Hallr move in slow motion, stumbling, falling, crashing into the navigator's station.

Sten groaned in pain from somewhere behind him. A siren yelled, drowning out all other sounds.

CRASH IMMINENT. PREPARE FOR IMPACT.

PROBABILITY OF EXPLOSION UPON IMPACT: 94%

The words flashed on the screen. Cairn blinked, frozen as the cold reality of their situation sank in. They weren't going to survive this. They'd be blown to pieces before they could crawl from the wreckage.

There was only one option now.

“Get into the ejector pods!” he yelled at the top of his voice.

Hallr's eyes widened. Blood was running down his face from a gash between his horns.

He moved slowly, unsteady, but he'd got the message.

Cairn removed his belt and turned to Sten.

The male was on the floor, looking dazed, staring at the screen without really seeming to see it.

He must have been injured, maybe he'd hit his head.

The ship shifted to the right. Cairn kept his balance, but only just. He somehow reached Sten without falling and pulled him to his feet. The gharrgoil was muttering to himself now, words that made no sense to Cairn.

“We have to get to the pods. Can you walk?”

Sten didn't react. Cairn cursed.

IMPACT IMMINENT.

He pushed and pulled at Sten. The other male moved like he was learning to walk, but he moved. Sparks flew from the ceiling. The ship groaned under the atmospheric pressure. The shields wouldn't hold for much longer.

Cairn thought it was a miracle he managed to get Sten all the way to the back of the bridge, where the emergency pods waited. Hallr was already strapping himself in. Cairn met his eyes.

“Good luck.”

He knew this might be the last time he saw his friend.

This might be the end. As much as he wanted to linger, think of his family back home, all the dreams and hopes that would never come to pass, he had a responsibility for his crew.

He opened the closest pod, a thin tube barely wide enough to house an adult gharrgoil, and pushed Sten inside.

The straps wrapped themselves around the male automatically.

“See you on the other side,” Cairn whispered and pressed the button to expel the pod.

He watched as Sten's pod was thrust upwards through the escape tubes.

If everything went well, its thrusters would activate as soon as the pod was away from the ship.

The emergency pods had a basic auto-nav system that would steer to the closest surface.

Hopefully, Hallr and Sten would end up on the planet.

And with luck, gharrgoils were able to survive in this unknown place.

TIME TO IMPACT: 5 CLICKS.

Cairn jumped into a pod, wings folded closely against his back, tail wrapped around his legs.

The last thing he saw before activating the emergency eject was sparks raining down on the bridge and smoke rising from vents.

Then he was pressed back into the pod's soft surface as gravitational forces warred all around him.

The pod shook, turned, spiralled out of control.

There was nothing Cairn could do but watch and hope that he might yet survive this, against the odds.

A vast green surface rose to meet the pod. He squeezed his eyes shut and sent a prayer to the old gods.

The straps pulled tightly against his skin. The pod slowed just before the impact, but it wasn't enough. The sound of splintering metal was the last thing Cairn heard before darkness took him.

Monsieur Michel Auberge didn't believe in magic.

He was an educated man. He had travelled.

He knew things. He had a reputation as one of Europe's best stonemasons, which is why he was currently riding through the Scottish countryside.

He'd reach Stirling Castle in an hour or two, where he had been commissioned to decorate the palace in the continental style.

His saddle bags were full of notes and sketches of grotesques, gargoyles, carvings that he was planning to propose to King James V.

A thin line of smoke caught his eye, rising from behind a low mound to his left. Monsieur Auberge had many faults, but curiosity was his biggest flaw and greatest strength. He dug in his heels and galloped away from the road, towards the smoke.

As he rounded the mound, he wasn't sure what to make of the scene before him.

Smouldering grass, black and brown. Strange pieces of metal, silver maybe, but who had that much silver?

Smoke rose from the largest piece, shimmering in the dim sunlight.

And in the centre of the scorched ground stood a statue unlike anything he'd ever seen.

Monsieur Auberge did not believe in magic - yet he did not find a logical explanation for what he was seeing.

He looked around for any sign of another person, but there was nobody.

He dismounted and slowly approached the statue.

It stood taller than a man. Wings, leathery and extended wide.

Pointy teeth in a half-open mouth. A tail like that of a demon.

The face was so expertly chiselled that for a moment, he almost thought the statue blinked. A trick of the light.

Until this moment, the Frenchman had thought that he was at the height of his craft.

Yet this statue was so lifelike in a way that made him feel inadequate.

He was no more than an amateur compared to this craftsmanship.

Whoever had made the statue deserved the king's commission more than he did.

He should turn his horse around and return to France, where he still had a reputation.

If the Scots could create art such as this, he had no chance of persuading their king that he was the expert stonemason he'd thought he was.

Unless...

He ran his hand over the smooth stone. It was strangely warm. If the artist of the statue was careless enough to leave it standing in a field, he ought to be punished for it.

This statue would look magnificent on the high walls of Stirling Castle.

Monsieur Auberge smiled. Maybe all was not lost after all.