Read Online Rescued By Tordin: Olodian Alien Warrior Romance by Mychal Daniels - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mychal Daniels
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advancing quickly to grab her.
Oh no, where did they come from?
Willing herself to scramble and leave, she broke away to run up the incline to the other door and engine room. Right before she made it out the door, her body shut down. She couldn’t move anything. What was wrong with her? Kyra willed herself to move her legs in spite of the oxygen depletion. She watched in horror as what looked like a six and half to seven foot foreign astronaut approached her.
Frozen. She was frozen to the spot. Maybe terror and a severe lack of oxygen were starting to play with her lucidity. Maybe this was a hallucination.
The mirror-like shield and helmet hiding his face reflected her terrified and grime-smeared face staring back at her. Maybe he wasn’t real. The suit he wore didn’t resemble any of the countries with a space program. She’d attempt to communicate with him anyway—just in case he was indeed real. Now was not the time to be monolingual either. What could he or the others she now saw come into view be, Russian? Or were they some of the researchers she’d never met before? She couldn’t place them. They were too tall to be anyone from this station. She’d remember almost seven feet tall men walking around. This was too much. She felt herself increasingly overwhelmed as they closed the distance to stand in front of her.
“Who are you? How did you get onboard this vessel?” was all she managed to get out before slumping in one of the men’s embrace.
----
M alm held the tiny female in his arms. He was sure it, no she, was female. She looked like a young Terrain with a most appealing amber skin tone. She’d spoken a language that sounded like one that was prevalent on her planet. He felt a thread of pulsing power running just under the surface and yet also sadness for her too. Malm could smell the high anxiety and exhaustion emanating from her—even through his protective suit. No wonder she overloaded and short-circuited herself enough to pass out. As he continued to hold the limp female in his arms, he used his universal interpreter to discover she’d spoken Colonial North American English with a hint of some unrecognizable dialect.
Good, he would change to this tongue, and he instructed the others to do the same. Her breaths were shallow. He took out a breath support mask and gently slipped it over her small head. The air began to flow, and relief flooded him as her breathing deepened.
Good, hopefully the female would live .
“Malm,” Jalek called out to him. “This male’s vital signs are extremely weak.”
Malm turned to see a male Terrain leaning against the wall. Even though the male now had a breathing mask on, Malm’s senses confirmed he was close to expiring.
“Leave him. We are to scan for survivors. Jalek…” The younger warrior stepped forward. Malm was impressed so far with how he carried himself.
“Yes, Sire?”
Malm would put Tordin’s theory to the test. He would have Jalek handle the task of scanning for survivors and see how he handled it. “Jalek, I want you to—”
The female in his arms began to rouse herself. She mumbled something he was not able to understand. He didn’t want her to be startled and pass out again, so he gave his warriors the signal to remain still and quiet.
“Where am I?” she asked as if coming out of a deep slumber.
She jumped when she heard his voice. He knew his voice was deep, even among his own kind, but he wanted to make sure she understood what was happening. They had all uncloaked themselves when she passed out. He knew she must have seen at least his helmet before, and now he wanted to treat her with the utmost care to avoid causing additional harm or fear. It appeared the Terrains had been through a huge ordeal so far.
He spoke as gently as he could, taking care to use her language. “You are on your failing vessel. We are here to remove you to our craft and attend to your injuries—if you allow us to.”
It took a moment for her
Oh no, where did they come from?
Willing herself to scramble and leave, she broke away to run up the incline to the other door and engine room. Right before she made it out the door, her body shut down. She couldn’t move anything. What was wrong with her? Kyra willed herself to move her legs in spite of the oxygen depletion. She watched in horror as what looked like a six and half to seven foot foreign astronaut approached her.
Frozen. She was frozen to the spot. Maybe terror and a severe lack of oxygen were starting to play with her lucidity. Maybe this was a hallucination.
The mirror-like shield and helmet hiding his face reflected her terrified and grime-smeared face staring back at her. Maybe he wasn’t real. The suit he wore didn’t resemble any of the countries with a space program. She’d attempt to communicate with him anyway—just in case he was indeed real. Now was not the time to be monolingual either. What could he or the others she now saw come into view be, Russian? Or were they some of the researchers she’d never met before? She couldn’t place them. They were too tall to be anyone from this station. She’d remember almost seven feet tall men walking around. This was too much. She felt herself increasingly overwhelmed as they closed the distance to stand in front of her.
“Who are you? How did you get onboard this vessel?” was all she managed to get out before slumping in one of the men’s embrace.
----
M alm held the tiny female in his arms. He was sure it, no she, was female. She looked like a young Terrain with a most appealing amber skin tone. She’d spoken a language that sounded like one that was prevalent on her planet. He felt a thread of pulsing power running just under the surface and yet also sadness for her too. Malm could smell the high anxiety and exhaustion emanating from her—even through his protective suit. No wonder she overloaded and short-circuited herself enough to pass out. As he continued to hold the limp female in his arms, he used his universal interpreter to discover she’d spoken Colonial North American English with a hint of some unrecognizable dialect.
Good, he would change to this tongue, and he instructed the others to do the same. Her breaths were shallow. He took out a breath support mask and gently slipped it over her small head. The air began to flow, and relief flooded him as her breathing deepened.
Good, hopefully the female would live .
“Malm,” Jalek called out to him. “This male’s vital signs are extremely weak.”
Malm turned to see a male Terrain leaning against the wall. Even though the male now had a breathing mask on, Malm’s senses confirmed he was close to expiring.
“Leave him. We are to scan for survivors. Jalek…” The younger warrior stepped forward. Malm was impressed so far with how he carried himself.
“Yes, Sire?”
Malm would put Tordin’s theory to the test. He would have Jalek handle the task of scanning for survivors and see how he handled it. “Jalek, I want you to—”
The female in his arms began to rouse herself. She mumbled something he was not able to understand. He didn’t want her to be startled and pass out again, so he gave his warriors the signal to remain still and quiet.
“Where am I?” she asked as if coming out of a deep slumber.
She jumped when she heard his voice. He knew his voice was deep, even among his own kind, but he wanted to make sure she understood what was happening. They had all uncloaked themselves when she passed out. He knew she must have seen at least his helmet before, and now he wanted to treat her with the utmost care to avoid causing additional harm or fear. It appeared the Terrains had been through a huge ordeal so far.
He spoke as gently as he could, taking care to use her language. “You are on your failing vessel. We are here to remove you to our craft and attend to your injuries—if you allow us to.”
It took a moment for her