Following on from last week. Mason has intercepted a small space craft and hiding in the cargo hold is Jade….
A girl! Mason’s eyes widened in disbelief as she crawled out of the hiding space. She rose to her feet. No, not a child, a woman, but young and short in stature. Probably from one of the outlying system planets given her black hair and bronze skin, someplace where the sun shone, unlike his icy home-world.
The emergency light behind him cast his shadow over her. She flinched when she saw the gun in his hands. He pointed it at her chest. It was a non-lethal weapon, but it packed a punch and the stun would knock her out for hours.
“Identify yourself,” he demanded. His weapon contained a retinal scanner and the beam had already struck the back of her eye. Her identity was about to be revealed, confirming his suspicion that the ship was a rogue vessel. In his ear-piece, the link to his ship’s computer uploaded a list of offences and the droning voice rattled them off. Not exactly a hardened criminal, but a criminal none the less. She wouldn’t add a fortune to his bonus, but every little helped.
“Fuck off,” she croaked, then cleared her voice. “I should ask who you are and why have you commandeered my craft.”
He kicked the loose panel. “Watch your tongue. Disrespect won’t be tolerated. I ask the questions.”
“Then you’ll get no answers.” She folded her arms across her chest.
Feisty creature, except, it was a brave front—her legs were shaking and her lower lip trembled. A pretty pair of lips to go with her bright, splendidly dark eyes, high cheeks bones and button ended nose. Everything about her was finely tuned, a cut above many of the females he encountered through his line of work.
“You are Jade Kryst, absconded citizen of the planet Malimor. You left Malimor without permission of the migratory authorities. You are a known associate of a criminal gang—”
“I left to serve a cause. I’m not a member of a gang. I fly relief missions—”
He raised his gun in line with her throat. “These are the charges. You’re a smuggler of contraband and therefore, a fugitive from justice. There is an arrest warrant out for you.”
Her sweet, kissable mouth opened and shut before she spoke in a squeak. “You’re a cop,” she exclaimed. “You don’t look like an enforcer.”
“I’m Federal Space Marshal Mason. Uniforms aren’t compulsory for federal marshals. I need to blend into the surroundings. Although, if it makes you more compliant, I’ll put one on especially for you,” he mocked.
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll just wait here.” She smirked, cocking her head to one side.
He liked her, but not in a way that he should because she’d a bad attitude towards authority and that wouldn’t last very long if she continued to sass him. On the other hand, teaching her a lesson or too appealed, although she’d not take kindly to his techniques. Pity he had to lock her up. More than lock her up, he was required to search her.