Clan and Commit (Clan Beginnings Book 7)

by Tracy St. John

  Clan Beginnings

  CLAN AND COMMIT

  A Clans of Kalquor Story

  By

  Tracy St. John

  © copyright May 2020, Tracy St. John

  Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill, © copyright March 2020

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s

  imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or

  events is merely coincidence.

  Kindle Edition

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Prologue

  The Kalquorian Empire was and still is a civilization of great importance to the Galactic Council of Planets. The fierce but intelligent species has been at the forefront of technological, medical, and scientific breakthroughs for millennia. Their military might has never been in question. Even their ancient enemy, the opportunistic race of Tragooms, hesitates to attack a Kalquorian force half its size.

  However, Kalquor’s survival is in jeopardy. The force that has threatened this mighty race is not one that wields weaponry. It cannot even be seen with the naked eye. It is a virus.

  Centuries ago, this virus struck the home world of Kalquor, wiping out a substantial number of its people, particularly the females. Symptoms included massive bleeding of the body’s major organs, along with those of the female reproductive tract. Damaging the x-chromosome of the Kalquorians, the virus’s effects went beyond death. The majority of women not killed outright were rendered infertile, and daughters born to those who could bear children were not guaranteed the ability to do the same. The virus altered the very DNA of the entire race.

  In an effort to keep their race from going extinct and prevent fighting amongst the men, family groups called clans were formed. Each clan was made up of one female known as the Matara (lifebringer) and representatives of each of the three breeds of male: the Dramok (leader), Imdiko (caregiver), and Nobek (protector).

  A Matara may not join a clan until the three male members are in place. There is no guarantee a clan will attract a female, since the women are so rare. In their absence, the men forge close, often intimate, relationships with each other.

  When they elect to clan, they are usually ready for the kind of devotion required for a lifelong union. Sometimes, however, attraction isn’t sought. It isn’t wanted. Yet when that lightning flash of infatuation deepens into more, even the worst possible timing or most adverse situation can’t deter men from bowing to the kind of commitment that is meant to last forever.

  Chapter One

  Dramok Bacoj sat at the bar. He stared into his drink, unmindful of what was going on around him. Not that much happened at a place like Duras’s Tavern. It was a lowkey neighborhood spot where the locals came in after their shifts to either unwind or get quietly drunk. Bacoj fit neither description, but since he wasn’t in the mood for a rowdy club, Duras’s was as good a place to mope as any.

  He contemplated his glass of amber kloq, vaguely aware of the background clink of glasses, hum of conversation, and occasional laughter. The bar itself was an old wooden slab, showing the scars of glass rings from decades—maybe centuries—of service.

  His com sat next to his sweating glass, probably too close, despite its moisture-protective casing. No one was on the line. The holographic vid screen was off, and it would remain so as long as he could stand it. He’d made the dumb move of switching the com off with the text message program enabled. The instant he turned it on again, he’d see the two messages queued up, the messages that had come in within minutes of each other. He’d read the first over and over, memorizing it. Though he’d not done the same with the second, it was burned in his mind as well.

  My life is shit.

  His pity party was abruptly interrupted by a tray of small finger foods, carefully shoved between his com and glass. Startled, Bacoj jerked his head up. His eyes met those of a young man with a gentle smile.

  “You’ve been here long enough to have missed your evening meal. Put something besides kloq in your stomach,” the bartender said.

  “I haven’t drunk that much.” Bacoj sized him up. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, close to Bacoj’s age. That soft, compassionate expression could only belong to a member of the nurturing Imdiko breed. Ancestors, what a sweet face. Handsome too.

  “I noticed you’ve been nursing that glass for the last hour. An impressive feat, since your expression tells me you’d love to drink yourself into oblivion.”

  “The trouble with kloq-induced oblivion is that you have to return from it at some point.” Despite his depression, Bacoj couldn’t help but smile at the other man. The Imdiko had a face to turn heads. Maybe his jaw was a tad too chiseled and his lips too thin to claim perfection, but he’d missed it by just an inch. Were his soft waves of black hair as soft as they appeared? The urge to find out was close to irresistible.

  “Are things really that bad?” Cutie Imdiko tilted his head, regarding Bacoj as if no one else in the world mattered.

  “Bad enough.” He had no appetite despite how tasty the plate of nibbles smelled. Yet when the bartender pointed at a meat-wrapped pastry, Bacoj dutifully popped it into his mouth.

  It wasn’t the tasteless, greasy experience he’d have expected from bar food. Bacoj stared at the Imdiko as savory flavors exploded on his tongue. As soon as he swallowed, he declared, “Your cook deserves a raise.”

  The bartender called to a second server at the other end. “Hear that, Deras?”

  The Dramok with the barrel-shaped torso and arms the size of trees lumbered a couple steps closer and shook a warning finger at Bacoj. “Shut it, kid. I upped his wage last week.”

  Bacoj gaped at the Imdiko. “You cooked this? Your talents are wasted here.” Hurriedly, he added for Deras’s benefit, “No offense.”

  “None taken. Vax is head chef at Nepor Resort, so yeah, he’s slumming it behind this bar. Hold the fort a few minutes, kid?”

  “Sure.” Vax’s grin was bright in the dark room.

  Deras plodded through the door several feet behind the bar that opened to a small kitchen space. Bacoj heard another door out of his sightline hiss open and closed again. Deras was probably taking a bathroom break.

  Bacoj ate another morsel. Herbed grul, tender and spicy. It was divine. He moaned his enjoyment, and Vax’s smile widened.

  “I have to ask. What’s a nice chef like you doing in a bar like this? A place as exclusive as Nepor should pay well enough to keep you from taking a second job.”

  “It does, but I needed the bartending experience. I hope to open my own place someday.”

  “You want to own a bar? Or a resort?”

  “Neither. I’m planning on a nice restaurant, but the cli
entele won’t be as snooty as Nepor’s.”

  “You need to know how to run a bar for that?”

  “My plan is to understand every detail of the restaurant business, from top to bottom. I hate companies where the boss orders his workers around without having the first clue of what he’s talking about.”

  It made sense. Vax spoke with a confidence that belied his youth. “Smart guy.”

  The Imdiko grinned. Before Bacoj could ask him more in hope of keeping the cutie talking to him, a customer at the end of the bar signaled for Vax’s attention.

  As the bartender-slash-chef walked off, Bacoj watched with admiration. The Imdiko was trim, his vee-neck shirt and black trousers cut so that his toned body could be properly admired. H was a hot dish himself, from head to toe.

  Bacoj sighed, his mood darkening again. An Imdiko of Vax’s age, possessing that level of intelligence, ambition, and looks, was undoubtedly off the market. Even if he weren’t already clanned, he must be promised to some Dramok with decent rank.

  Not to a guy like me. Bacoj came from a notable family, but he had nothing to offer prospective clanmates. Not that he was seriously looking to form a clan at such a young age, but if the right men came along, why not?

  Why not? Try lack of rank. Despite his best efforts, even the ability to climb the ladder of success had eluded him, except for a few precious minutes when it seemed all his dreams might finally be coming true. Otherwise, Bacoj had spent the last few years stuck in a respectable but insignificant job.

  Thanks to the war with Earth, that trend would continue for the foreseeable future. He glanced at his com again and sucked down a mouthful of kloq. Maybe he should get drunk after all.

  Vax finished waiting on the other patron and checking on others. He strolled back to Bacoj. “Finish the food, or I’ll think you were lying about how good it is.”

  In an instant, the worst of the darkness lifted again. Vax’s warm presence chased off the shadows of regret. Bacoj chuckled and had another bite. Whoever Vax was promised to, the food alone would make them lucky bastards. The personality was another level of wonderful. They’d better appreciate their luck.

  He said as much. Vax leaned toward him, settling his elbow on the bar. “Thanks. To be honest, I don’t—”

  He froze. Vax straightened, his attention riveted on the bar’s entrance. Bacoj glanced over his shoulder to see what had chased the Imdiko’s cheerful mood away.

  A man who unmistakably belonged to the warrior Nobek breed glared at Vax from the door. His demeanor was as fierce as any of his kind, but Bacoj immediately discerned there were a few unusual details about him.

  He was as muscled as most Kalquorians, maybe even a touch more. Perhaps twenty years older than Bacoj, he was still a young man. Yet there was something debilitated about the Nobek. His face was gaunt, with deep shadows under his eyes. His hair, black as most of their kind, was thin and lusterless. There was a sense of great desperation that clung to him. The sort of desperation that had turned into a nasty disposition.

  At that moment, that ugly nature was focused on Vax. Bacoj bristled at the unspoken threat.

  “Who’s the asshole who wants a punch?” he asked.

  Deras chose that moment to stomp into the bar area. He noticed the newcomer immediately, and his rough voice rose to a thunderous shout, silencing everyone. “Hey! I told you to stop coming in here, Karil. Move your ass before I com enforcement.”

  Karil didn’t bother to look at the Dramok bartender. His stare remained locked on Vax. His upper lip pulled into a snarl, displaying stained teeth. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the bar.

  Deras uttered a rude sound and followed it with a ruder gesture at the door. “Stupid junkie Nobek. You okay, Vax?”

  Vax looked far from okay. His dark skin had paled noticeably, and a slight tremor ran through his body. He noticed Bacoj watching him and visibly gathered his nerve.

  “I’m fine. He only wants to intimidate me.”

  Deras snorted. “Maybe. And maybe I’m escorting you home again to make sure he keeps it at intimidation.”

  Deras thudded to the other end of the bar. Bacoj continued to gaze at the now blushing Vax, who remained close but wouldn’t look at him. He fussed with glasses and bottles of liquor, appearing to tidy but not really doing anything.

  Whatever had happened was none of Bacoj’s business, but he couldn’t keep himself from probing. “Why would Dramok Deras walk you home? You must have your own Nobek who can come pick you up.”

  “I don’t have a Nobek. Or a Dramok.” Noting Bacoj’s disbelieving stare, Vax shrugged. “Career before clan. No distractions. I’ll open that restaurant before I’m thirty-five.”

  “Oh.” Bacoj ignored how his heart leapt. “Surely you’re promised to someone, for when you’re ready.”

  “No distractions. No commitment, no steady lovers, no nonsense.” Vax eyed Bacoj, assessing him. A sly grin pulled at his lips. “That’s the plan, anyway. I’ll admit to having wavered on that pledge from time to time, depending on the company I’ve kept.”

  I don’t have a chance with this guy. Nonetheless, Bacoj dared to flirt. Why not? He had nothing to lose. “If they weren’t shipping me out in a few weeks, I might have attempted to give you reason to waver.”

  “You would, huh? Handsome guy such as yourself, it would be a decent temptation.” Vax smirked.

  “I’m in it strictly for the food.” Bacoj teased. He couldn’t let the Imdiko get too full of himself—though Vax had to realize what an enticing package he was on all levels.

  “Ah, the food. Glad I have a card to play in the game of love when I’m ready for it. Heading off to war?”

  Bacoj’s spirits fell again, all the way to the bottom. “Right.”

  “Is that why you’re sitting here, trying to decide whether to get drunk or not?”

  “Part of it.”

  Vax leaned close, both elbows on the bar. “What will it take to hear the whole story?”

  Bacoj didn’t hesitate. “The tale of why that Nobek came in to give you a death stare.”

  Vax winced, and Bacoj readied himself for a refusal.

  Vax kept his gaze on the bar. On what was left of Bacoj’s kloq, actually, as if he wished he could gulp it down. He spoke, and the words were as shocking as the fact he admitted them.

  “I killed his Imdiko. My cousin.”

  Bacoj stared, barely able to breath. This sweet-faced man had murdered someone? Vax?

  “Accident?” he managed to ask.

  “Self-defense.” Vax coughed out what Bacoj supposed was meant to be a laugh. “If you’d seen Huk, you’d have insisted no one could have called him a threat. And you’d be right. Years of drug addiction left his body withered. His bones were as brittle as glass.”

  He continued to stare at the glass of liquor, though his distant expression suggested he wasn’t seeing it. He was somewhere in an awful past.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t.” Bacoj brushed his arm, wishing he could offer better comfort.

  “It’s a hard thing, ending someone’s life. Especially over a stupid disagreement. We’d both shown up at a family getaway spot in the mountains. I was taking a few days to enjoy the quiet. He was—I have no idea what he was doing there. Probably looking to hole up and get wasted until the drugs ran out. He wasn’t too happy when I arrived.”

  “You had an argument?”

  “I came in too fast for the landing when I got there. Wasn’t paying attention as I should have, I guess. My shuttle bumped his, which was already docked, and put a ding in it. I’d no sooner got out, ready to apologize and offer him money to fix it, when he came at me.”

  “He threatened you?”

  “He said he’d kill me and started throwing punches. Pretty pathetic punches, to be honest. I pushed him and warned him to back off. He wouldn’t. He kept attacking me.”

  “It sounds as if you had cause to defend yourself.”

  Vax sighed and rubbed h
is face. “I guess. He could have picked up a branch or a rock or any number of things to pound me with. No doubt it would have eventually occurred to him to do so.”

  “So how’d it end up going so badly?”

  “I finally decided it would take a show of strength to convince him to quit messing with me. I scooped him up and slammed him to the ground. It shattered half his ribs, his collarbone, arm—and caused a lot of internal injuries.”

  “Damn. Seriously?” Bacoj gaped in shock. He wouldn’t have suspected the smaller man could commit such damage by merely throwing someone to the ground.

  “As I mentioned, his bones were like glass by then. Believe it or not, he was so high that he didn’t realize how hurt he was. He stood up, told me he’d be back with Karil to kill me, staggered into his shuttle, and left. It was hours later when his clanmates figured out he needed a doctor and took him to the hospital. By then, it was too late.”

  Bacoj blew out a breath. “That’s awful, Vax. It sounds like the kind of thing you don’t shake off easily, even if he was asking for it. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”

  Before Vax could answer, a large group entered the bar, chattering loudly and swarming the grouping of tables against the far wall.

  “I’d better get to work.” Vax started away. “Thanks for listening.”

  Once more, Bacoj had to watch the handsome Imdiko walk off. By the time Vax reached the newly arrived customers, he had recovered his pleasant disposition. He took their orders with an easy, friendly manner.

  Bad history with a member of his family or not, Vax seemed worth getting to know better. If he’d been able to, Bacoj would have become a regular at the bar to do so.

  Stop thinking about that. He said he’s not interested in a relationship.

  Not to mention that matter of Bacoj possessing no rank for such an ambitious Imdiko. Besides, he was on the verge of going to war, with his whole future put on hold.

  That future, Bacoj’s big dream, had finally been within reach only minutes before the com message arrived to tell him he’d been drafted. The future he’d worked so hard for had been lost before it could be born. It was a bitter pill to swallow.