“Secondary engine failure.”

Myka tapped the control grid to shut down the engine. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You are about to crash,” the onboard computer continued.

“I said, something I don’t know.” He grunted and switched on the stabilizers, hoping to keep his ship from flipping while maintaining his trajectory to the damaged energy pod’s last coordinates. If luck was on his side, he’d land not far off the mark. “Having some warning about the planet’s defense grid would have been nice.”

“Record logs show this primitive planet has limited technology. There is no record of defense weaponry.”

“You mean until the satellites locked on to the ship and started firing.” He clamped down hard on his controlled panic and worked to keep the craft level. “Help me get this piece of shit on the ground.”

“This ‘piece of shit’ is a fifth-generation interstellar transport—”

“Yeah. Yeah. Not now.” If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn the computer was offended.

The thruster’s grid showed the engines reaching max capacity.

“Too fast.” He focused on the control panel and mentally calculated the speed and distance to his target. “We’re coming in too fast. Come on, old girl. Slow down. Shields up. Autocontrol on.”

His personal safety clamps locked into place, and he braced for impact. Three, two, one. The vibration and screech of metal impacting the planet’s surface lasted for several seconds before the forward motion came to a creaking stop.

He closed his eyes and released a steady exhale. “System check.”

“Calculating.”

Myka unfastened his harness, then lifted the outer shields to check the damage. Strange vegetation covered the outer hull, but the ship appeared to be intact. Relief eased in.

Ka-boom.

He rocked sideways as a flash of fire flared and then settled to a burn. “What the hell? Shields up.”

“There has been an explosion,” the computer voice intoned.

“Remind me when we get back to have your components upgraded. You’re a little slow.”

“I’m a fully functional—”

“I said, not now. I need to put out that fire.”

“Your retrieval mission now has an 83.837 percent chance of success.”

He paused while his brain encountered a mental hiccup. “What happened to the other sixteen percent?”

“The short-distance scanners were damaged upon landing. The last coordinates show the pod is within five hundred meters of the ship, but the exact location is unknown and must be located manually.”

He sighed out his frustration and released the security lever to retrieve a foam canister.

“Any more good news?”

“Ship diagnostics confirm that liftoff is not possible without repairing the auxiliary engine.”

“Perfect. Just what I needed to hear.” The thick layer of sarcasm helped ease his growing frustration. “Whoever shot off those rockets will be looking for this ship. Transfer long-range scan analysis to my personal unit and run additional diagnostics on that auxiliary engine.”

“In progress.”

Now, all I have to do is find that damn pod.

Myka ducked his head as he walked through the medical bay to the storage compartment and back bay. He keyed in his code and waited for the back cargo door to open, then set the timer. He estimated he had only a couple of hours to find the energy pod, excavate and store the leaking energy source, and then get his ship fixed before someone came poking around.

Barely enough time, and then only if he was lucky.

He released the security switch on the canister and laid down a foaming arc to suffocate the flames and anything in the way. “Now to find that pod and be on my way,” he muttered.

Grabbing the vacuum box, he went to check on the secondary engine. “Not too bad.” He assessed the scorched metal. A couple of hours of repair and he should be good to fly.

He pressed his com button. “Command, this is Special Ops 9er, over.”

“Special Ops 9er, command over.”

“Landed. Engine damaged. Repairable. Over.”

The space commander’s graphic appeared in front of him. “Myka, can’t you do anything without screwing it up?”

He grunted, maintaining tight control of his attitude. “It would have been nice to have intel about the defense satellites.”

His commander's bushy brows folded together as he paused to read a report one of his lieutenants handed him. He gave the computer board back. “Fine. When you get back I’ll assign you to recon. Until then, do your job.”

Myka’s gut tightened, and the fog of his breath swirled away in the night’s air. “This is supposed to be my last assignment. I’ve done my time.”

“Apparently the major doesn’t want you back in his unit. You need to wait for another opening. Next time a major sticks his hand down a woman’s shirt, think twice—at least twice—before you bust his nose.”

“You and I both know there shouldn’t be a next time, and there certainly shouldn’t have been a previous time. These charges are bullshit, and you know it. I should never have been assigned to the outer rim, or to a damn medical research vessel.” There couldn’t have been a worse demotion.

“Suck it up, soldier. Play nice, and you just might get reassigned to a battle unit.”

Defending his planet from invaders or rounding up fugitives would at least give him something to look forward to each day.

“Babysitting a bunch of scientists isn’t what I trained for.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you need a bit more training, since you can’t retrieve an energy unit without busting up one of my ships.”

Rage made his bio-suit suffocating and tight. “Yes, sir.”

“Get that energy pod and get your ass back here, Special Ops 9er. Command out.”

Asswipe.

Myka tightened his grip on the vacuum box. “Maybe I should shove the energy pod up your butt and fry your ass. That should keep you from sitting around on your lazy bum for a while.”

Ducking his head to round the ship, he froze and locked on a sight he’d never expected to see in his lifetime.

The woman before him was glowing blue with patterns of cascading water. She was stunning. No, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He fought to breathe.

The fury in her eyes was spectacular. The rippling designs across her skin undulated in dancing, mesmerizing patterns. She vibrated with anger.

A mate. He gaped in awe. The way her patterns danced told him she was his perfect match.

He tapped on his translator and took a step closer, his hand outstretched.

Was she real? She couldn’t be. Why would she be on this primitive planet? How did she get here?

Mating females were rare, and coveted by his race’s Elite. There was no way a female of worth would have been left stranded on Earth.

“Hello. Who are you? Better yet, where did you come from?”

“Stop!” the petite woman commanded.

Her boldness belied her one and a half-meter frame. She was delicate, yet her don’t-mess-with-me expression suggested something much more fun. He might have laughed at the stern look on her face if he hadn’t been so fascinated by her beauty.

He took another step closer.

Then another.

Then the ground shifted, sending vibrations up his legs. Vines appeared from nowhere and wrapped around his legs and arms and chest and head.

Shiza. Myka tried reaching for his defensive shields, but his arms were trapped against his body. He couldn’t move.

Two beings no higher than his knees, with fluffy white beards and wearing green pants and funny red hats, burst out of the vegetation and attacked.

“Ouch. Stop that.” The tallest of the little people pushed on his leg. “No. Don’t do that. You little scrubrat.” The little man kicked dirt over his shoe and pushed some more. With his feet trapped by the vines, he couldn’t counter the move. His equilibrium failed, and he tipped, then crashed to the ground.

Living on a space station was a particular type of hell.

But nothing compared to this embarrassment.

He hoped to hell his commanding officer never found out he’d been captured by two very small people.

Otherwise he could kiss a transfer back to his home planet goodbye.