by S. E. Smith
Chapter Nineteen
Destin looked at the other men when he entered the room. Tim and Mason started to rise, but Destin waved for them to remain seated. His eyes lit up when he saw the coffee pot in the corner. It was one of the old fashion kind, not the alien version.
“Thomas just made a fresh pot. He said he thought we might need some,” Tim said. “Cups are in the cabinet above.”
“Thanks,” Destin replied. “Trig, do you want any?”
A disgusted expression flashed across Trig’s face and he shook his head. “No. Beth gave me some yesterday. It takes like shewta! That means shit in your language,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know how you humans drink the stuff.”
Richard chuckled. “I kind of figured that was what it meant. It’s an acquired taste. If you spend enough time up at night, it can be a life saver,” he replied, lifting his own cup toward Destin for a refill.
“I’d like to know what happened, from the top,” Destin requested in a quiet voice, pouring the coffee into Richard’s cup and replacing the carafe in the coffee maker. “I also want to know everything you know about this Prymorus Achler guy.”
An hour later at the former Usoleum Councilor’s residence, the men were retracing what happened. It was obvious that someone had searched it – thoroughly. It was doubtful that it had been the men sent to kidnap Sula, so it could only mean one thing; Sula and Beth had been searching for something. He turned when Cutter walked into the back bedroom where he was standing.
“We have a possible target,” Cutter stated, angling his tablet so Destin could see.
“Who?” Destin asked, walking over to get a closer look at the image on the tablet. “What’s that?”
“That is a Raftian. He was doing some electrical repairs today. One of the buildings was this one,” Cutter replied in a grim tone.
“What did you find?” Trig asked, peering over Cutter’s shoulder. “Shewta! Cartis!”
Cutter turned to face Trig. “You know the Raftian?” he asked with a frown.
Trig nodded. “It looks like Cartis. He worked with Cannon, Sword, and Jordan to help free Razor, Dagger, and I on Bruttus. Cannon knows him. If that is Cartis, there will be a Jawtaw named Omini not far from him. They work undercover together on the intergalactic slave market – to break it, not supply them with more.”
“The missing women…,” Destin said with a frown. “Is it possible they would know what happened to them?”
Trig ran a tired hand through his hair and nodded. “If Cartis is here with Omini, there has to be something going on. If there is, they would know. So much for thinking the Waxians and Drethulans were going to be our only issue,” he said with a shake of his head.
Cutter released a muttered curse and glanced around the room. Destin saw the suspicion in Cutter’s eyes. His gut clenched when Cutter turned to him.
“Badrick was involved before with transporting human females off this world. What is to say that Councilor Ikera has not decided to continue her predecessor’s work?” Cutter asked.
Destin’s fist clenched and he took a step closer to Cutter. “Sula has nothing to do with the missing women. Might I remind you that they disappeared before we ever arrived? Badrick was a bad apple. What proof do we have that it isn’t a group of Trivator warriors behind their disappearance – or you for that matter? After all, this is all happening under your watch and Alissa was last seen talking to you about it!” Destin retorted in a low, angry tone.
“I think we all need to get some rest,” Trig muttered, casting a wary glance at Cutter and Destin. Both men were standing toe to toe. “As much as I hate to tell you this, Cutter, my orders are to protect Destin at all cost. If you two come to blows, I’ll have to defend him.”
“I don’t need protecting or defending, Trig,” Destin growled under his breath, not breaking eye contact with Cutter.
“She will be confined to the base until I know what is going on,” Cutter replied in a tone edged with steel. “If nothing else, her remaining in the medical unit would ensure her protection if she is innocent.”
“Like hell,” Destin said with a shake of his head. “She and Beth were under your protection when they were attacked here. She’ll return to the tower with me. My team and I will protect her.”
“Destin…,” Cutter started to say.
“She goes with me. I’m not leaving her here, especially now,” Destin stated with a wave of his hand, barely missing Cutter’s chest.
“Maybe it would be best, Destin. Patch and the human nurse can make sure her wounds heal properly,” Trig suggested.
“It isn’t just her wound. She’s pregnant,” Destin said, his voice tight with determination. “I trust my guys to protect her.”
“Pregnant!” Cutter and Trig muttered in shock at the same time.
“This is the end of this discussion. Tim! Richard! We’re returning to the medical unit now,” Destin called out to the other two men as he pushed past the two stunned Trivator warriors.
Sula awakened slowly. Her hand instinctively moved down to touch the arm wrapped around her waist. She winced when a shaft of pain reminded her of everything that had happened last night.
“I’ll get Patch or Chelsea,” Destin murmured, his voice thick from sleep.
“No, not yet,” Sula whispered, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of him pressed against her.
“How are you feeling?” Destin asked.
A small smile curved Sula’s lips when his hand moved down to cover her stomach. Fresh memories washed through her. She couldn’t squeeze his arm without pain, but she rubbed her foot along his jean clad leg.
“I don’t feel quite as good as I did after Patch gave me whatever he did for pain. How is Beth?” Sula asked, carefully rolling over when Destin moved so she could turn. “Did you see her?”
“She’s fine. She suffered a graze to her arm. She’s already peeked in on you,” he murmured, leaning up on one elbow to gaze down at her.
“I was so frightened. Those men… they were going to kill her,” Sula whispered, blinking rapidly when tears filled her eyes. “I never cry and now I appear to do it frequently. It is very irritating.”
Destin chuckled and raised a hand to wipe the tear that escaped. “Hormones – I guess even aliens have them,” he teased before sobering. “What were you and Beth searching for, Sula? It was obvious you two were on a mission.”
Sula swallowed and nodded. Her head turned and she gazed around the room, an expression of worry on her face. Looking back up at him, she licked her dry lips.
“I don’t want to tell you here,” she whispered. “After last night… I don’t trust the security here.”
Destin looked up when a soft knock sounded on the door. A moment later, Chelsea stuck her head in and brightly smiled at both of them. She clucked when she saw the dampness on Sula’s cheeks.
“Now, now, everything will be alright,” Chelsea said with a compassionate expression. “Destin, why don’t you go next door and get cleaned up. I had Thomas get you fresh clothes and a toothbrush from the supply store. I guessed at the size, so don’t blame him if it’s the wrong one. I’d like to check Sula’s shoulder and I’ll help her get cleaned up. I bought her some clothes, too.”
Destin glanced at the white plastic bag that Chelsea held up and nodded. He bent and brushed a tender kiss across Sula’s lips before rolling out of bed. Bending down, he picked up his shoes, grabbed his jacket off the chair next to the window, and stepped around the bed.
“Let me know if she needs anything,” he ordered in a soft but firm voice when he passed Chelsea.
“Honey, you’ll be the first to know. Sula is in good hands, don’t you worry about her,” Chelsea promised, shooing him out of the room.
Sula couldn’t keep the amused smile hidden. Chelsea was a force to be reckoned with when she was on a mission. Sula had discovered that when she was sick. Struggling to sit up, she couldn’t quite hold back the hiss of pain that escaped her.
“Here now, let me help you,” Chelsea admonished, dropping the bag onto the end of the bed and wrapping an arm around Sula’s back to help her sit up. “I’ll give you something for the pain and then we’ll get you into the bathroom to get cleaned up for Destin.”
Chelsea fluffed the pillows behind her and Sula carefully leaned back against them while Chelsea pulled a small kit from her pocket. Less than a minute later, Sula breathed a sigh of relief when the sharp pain radiating from her shoulder faded. She smiled her gratitude to the other woman.
“Thank you, Chelsea. Once again, you have come to my rescue,” Sula murmured.
“Well, a head cold is a lot less painful, even if you do feel like you are dying at times,” Chelsea laughed. “The pain medication I gave you will take the edge off, but it won’t stop it from hurting if you try to move your arm too much. Pain is a good thing. It lets you know when you are doing too much.”
Sula laughed and relaxed while Chelsea scanned her vitals. Her hand fluttered over her stomach and she bit her lip. She looked at Chelsea when the other woman gently lifted her hand and held it.
“Do you… You have a daughter, don’t you, Chelsea?” Sula asked in a hesitant voice.
“Thomas and I have three of them, all married. The middle and youngest have kids,” Chelsea replied. “You’ll be fine, Sula. I don’t know much about alien babies, but I suspect it isn’t much different from human ones. Come on and let me help you get in the shower and you can ask me all the questions you want.”
Sula’s eyes filled again and she groaned in annoyance. “Will I cry the entire time? I do not remember if others of my kind cried,” she sniffed, sliding her legs out from under the covers and sitting up.
“Sweetheart, if you feel like crying, you cry all you want. If you feel like ice cream at two in the morning, you tell Destin he better make sure he has it, otherwise there will be hell to pay,” Chelsea chuckled, sliding an arm around Sula’s waist and steadying her when she stood up. “My Thomas learned real quick which stores were open all night and which aisle my current craving was on. Trust me, when the baby decides to come, they’ll be thankful they did.”
“What is ice cream?” Sula asked in curiosity.
Chelsea’s laughter filled the small bathroom. Sula was soon learning all the hilarious and frightening things about pregnancy and wondering if half the tales were true. She also made a mental list of all the foods that Chelsea was telling her about – like fried pickles, tacos, and chocolate covered potato chips.
Chapter Twenty
Destin stepped out of the shower next door and dried his hair and body off before quickly dressing. He was just slipping his shoes on when there was a knock on the door. He called out for the person to enter, expecting it to be Tim or Mason. Instead, he was surprised when Cutter stepped inside and closed the door.
Destin’s features hardened into a controlled mask of calm. He finished tying his shoes and stood up, then grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, and slid it on. Cutter watched him in silence until he straightened.
“She’s not staying here,” Destin started to say.
“I know,” Cutter replied in a curt tone. “I talked to Beth this morning.”
Destin drew in a deep breath and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He had not thought about the fact that Beth might mention what she and Sula were searching for. He should have debriefed her last night.
“What did she say?” Destin asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Cutter shot him a frustrated glare. “That she only talks to the boss and since I’m not him, she couldn’t tell me anything other than my security measures sucked big time and that I’d better not mess with Sula,” he replied in a dry tone.
Destin’s lips twitched and he dropped his arms to his side in relief. Beth was smart and creative, but most of all she had a way of dealing with others. He could just imagine her telling Cutter that he wasn’t the boss of her with an infectious smile that would have Cutter agreeing. In many ways, Beth had helped fill the gap in his life left by Kali’s absence.
“Good for her,” Destin murmured, shoving his hands in his front pockets. “Is there anything else?”
Cutter’s lips twitched and he shook his head. “I really hope Kali is as much of a pain in the ass to Razor as you have been to me,” he muttered. “I’ve sent Trig out with Tim to find the Raftian and Jawtaw. Tim knows the city, but Trig knows the Raftian.”
“Sula isn’t involved in the disappearance of the women,” Destin asserted.
“I know,” Cutter acknowledged with a grim expression. “Thomas made another pot of coffee. General Baker has requested a meeting after this morning’s incident and I’ve asked Jag to join us.”
Destin nodded. Cutter gripped the door handle behind him and pulled the door open. Destin followed Cutter out of the room and back down the hallway. He was surprised when Cutter returned to the breakroom instead of leaving the building. Cutter must have sensed his surprise.
“We’re meeting in here?” Destin asked, stepping into the room.
Cutter nodded. “Family is very important to a Trivator. We can only hope to one day be gifted with our Amate. You have found yours. I respect your protectiveness of her,” he explained.
Destin knew he had a skeptical look on his face. It was strange listening to another guy, even if he was an alien, talk about gifts and protectiveness. It was obvious from Cutter’s face that he wanted to be done with this part of the conversation as well.
“And that’s that?” Destin asked.
Cutter shrugged. “Yes… and the fact that Patch wouldn’t release her from his care yet. I want to ask her what she was searching for before the attack,” he added.
“Now that I can believe. I need some coffee,” Destin muttered.
“Make that two,” Mason replied, walking into the room rubbing his eyes. “I’m getting too old to keep up with this shit.”
“Old my ass, I’ve got three years on you,” Mary Clark stated, sweeping in behind Mason with Beth following after her grandmother with an apologetic smile.
“You weren’t up all fu—Ouch,” Mason muttered, rubbing his arm when Mary smacked him.
“You can use any word but the f-one,” Mary stated in a firm tone. “A good curse word is necessary at times to relieve the tension, but the f-bomb should never be spoken in front of a lady. I’ll take care of the coffee if y’all want to find a seat. None of you can make a pot worth drinking and I think you’ll need more than one before this is finished.”
Destin chuckled when he saw the pained expression on both Cutter and Mason’s faces. Mary was sweet, but kept the lot of them in line with an iron fist. She knew how to handle the less than polished men that had become a family to her and Beth over the last seven years. He was just grateful Mabel had not come along with Mary. Then, they would all be in trouble.
“Sorry about this, Destin. I contacted Grandma this morning to let her know I was okay. She insisted on coming. I had Mason go get her. It was easier than fighting with her,” Beth muttered, sliding onto the chair next to him. “How’s Sula doing?”
“She’s doing better this morning – still in some pain,” Destin replied, smiling his thanks to Mary when she placed a cup of coffee in front of him.
Destin looked up when a man in a uniform entered the room, followed by Jag, the commander of the Star Raider. The modest-size room was becoming a little cozier as it began to fill up. Destin recognized the human man as General Baker.
“General,” Destin greeted with a nod. “Jag.”
“Destin,” Jag responded, glancing at the two women with a raised eyebrow.
“This is Beth and Mary Clark. They are part of my team. Mary handles communication and logistics for me,” Destin responded. “Beth works with my security team.”
“Cutter debriefed me on what happened last night. We are already on high alert due to these other possible threats,” General Baker stated. “The human military forces are mobilized and rea
dy around the world. I’ve been in contact with the Joint Council in New York City. After receiving an unusual transmission that was verified as authentic, they agree that the threat is real.”
“I received the same transmission,” Jag added, stepping forward and placing a vidcom device in the center of the table. “Play transmission.”
A holographic image flickered for a moment before a man’s face appeared in front of it. The man smiled into the video recording before stepping back. He started to speak before he stopped and frowned. They could tell he was glaring at someone on the other side of the camera.
“How do you expect me to warn them if you do not have the sound working?” a thick, accented voice demanded. “IQ, you are supposed to know how to operate this machine, oui?”
“Jon Paul, you better hurry. Jarmen will not be happy if he discovers we are sending this,” another voice muttered. “He swore he would eject us into space if we mess up again.”
“How is this messing up? We are simply sending a small message,” Jon Paul argued.
“Technically, any interference with history could potentially change the course of it,” another voice replied.
“Bah! Jarmen has been messing with your programming again,” Jon Paul replied with a wave of his hand. “I will be careful.”
“The video is currently running,” a robotic voice stated.
“What? Oi! People of Earth…,” Jon Paul began before he was interrupted when another man stepped into view and waved his hands in the air.
“Non! Non! If you say it like that they will think they are doomed. You must give them hope, Jon Paul. Not make them believe they are about to encounter the War of the Worlds! Oi! You must say it like this… My friends, there are very bad aliens coming on…. What is the date again, IQ?” Destin listened in disbelief when a voice called out the date. “Oui, yes, they are coming. We cannot tell you more for fear our uptight friend will eject us into space, but we felt a need to share with you the dangers. And now, we must go.”