Zhadra

by Sabine Ferruci

  He hesitated, but he was curious. "What did you think of them?"

  There was a long pause and he was not certain she would answer. "Do you really want to know, my brother?"

  He cruuking wouldn't have asked if he didn't. "Yes."

  She finally turned her head toward him. To his astonishment, there were tears in her eyes and her voice was broken.

  "They have endured much. Lost many of their crew. And they may never see their families or home again. But they will still be the luckiest women on Obos. They have been able to actually live their dreams."

  He had never heard her speak with such bitterness. But, then again, he had never asked.

  "I will also tell you, brother, that if you gave them a ship to depart Obos, I would go with them, no matter what you or father said."

  He sucked in his breath. "You are that unhappy that you would leave us?" His sister had been at the center of their lives for as long as he could remember.

  She once again looked forward through the viewscreen as they approached the estate's transport facility.

  Lhiranna sighed. "Zhadra. Would you have been happy kept behind these gates for all your thirty-six years? Never flying. Traveling. Fighting. Never planning tactics or training with your men. Never having a purpose in this life?"

  His sister had raised her voice. "I was alive on your vessel. And now I am back in the bosom of my loving family. I may make your lives bright, as you so often tell me, but what do I have to brighten mine, brother?"

  He landed the flyer without answering. Because he didn't really have an answer.

  Just as Lhiranna was leaving her seat, she met his eyes. " And, tell me, Zhadra. What will your Grace have to inspire her here on Obos?"

  With that, she wiped her eyes, bowed her head to him, and did not wait for his assistance in departing the transport.

  It was a very troubled Zhadra who briefed his father and brothers a short time later. It was a rote report about the mission, the humans, and Khaid's rescue.

  They spent several minutes discussing the attack on Khaid, and the potential origin with the Telosians. Qrurk and Vrik finally left to gather more intelligence and to complete the threat assessment.

  Then the matter of the humans was all that was left to decide. Zhadra had been considering this for three days while he paced around the Cyclone's decks. In a mere three minutes, Lhiranna had clarified his muddled thoughts.

  Of course, Grace would be unhappy here. And he wanted to offer her a life on Obos. Perhaps with him, if she would have him. After all, he had threatened to send her back to the Vermians in a cage. He winced.

  Zhadra stalked to the window, then turned and watched his father, sitting serenely in his study. He admitted, not for the first time, that it was quite clear where his own stubbornness had originated.

  Zral Savo, current Counsel General of the Council of Obosian Nations, sipped his tea. He had watched his second son pace. He then asked a question to which he cruuking well knew the answer.

  "How many hours has it been since the females commandeered your ship, Zhadra?"

  He was grinding his molars as he answered. "Three. And they have not commandeered it. I left them in care of staff on board. They just refuse to disembark."

  "Ridiculous," Brhex said.

  Zhadra darted a glance toward his older brother, seated at the opposite end of the table in the state chamber room. He could see there was no help coming from that quarter. Brhex, current Precep of Agra-Obos, was sometimes more rigid than his father.

  It was obvious what he had to do. "I do not see the harm in allowing the females their request for their own abode."

  His father raised his eyebrows. "Obosian females do not live alone."

  "They are not Obosian females."

  Brhex lifted a languid palm. "They plan to reside on Obos. They are females. Ergo . . .."

  "In order to thrive, they cannot be so confined as we have done with our women," Zhadra said. This had also been a painful conclusion for Zhadra.

  His father bristled. "We do not confine our women."

  "Let me show you something."

  Zhadra called up the vid from the Cyclone's sick bay. It showed his sister, Lhiranna hurrying in and taking command of the chaos, triaging the patients, assigning the medics, and quickly establishing an efficient environment.

  When two medics panicked over Scott's injuries and his collapsing vital signs, she took charge. Under her command, Scott was placed in a healing chamber, but she initially faced resistance.

  "Lady Lhiranna," the medic complained. "We do not know how the human will react to the chamber fluid. And he still has external monitors and cannulas. They may not tolerate the fluid."

  Lhiranna had not hesitated. "If we do nothing, he will die for certain. Now place him in the chamber." Steel entered her voice. "Now."

  The next minutes showed Lhiranna in a state of concern, but no panic. She ordered several changes to the levels of medication and temperature. Eventually cool satisfaction appeared on her face as the human stabilized. Her eyes glistened with pride.

  He allowed the vid to play until he saw himself walk into the med unit. Lhiranna looked briefly disappointed, then schooled her features and began to bow to Zhadra.

  He turned off the vid and looked at the astonished faces of his father and brother.

  "That is what we have done to Lhiranna, who is the most brilliant physician in our lifetime. And I have been more at fault than any of you."

  He shook his head. "She should be free to work where and when she pleases. Where she sees challenges."

  His father looked thoughtful.

  Brhex only narrowed his eyes. "You want to expose Lhiranna to danger?"

  "You are so cruuking stubborn, Brhex." He had growled the words and he felt his eyes light up with anger.

  "Forget Lhiranna for the moment. What is wrong with you?"

  "Nothing."

  "Koaloonshit."

  He sighed. This was inevitable. "I have an . . . interest in one of the human females."

  His father set down his cup of tea. "As a mate?"

  Zhadra had sworn he would never again agree to mate. It had brought nothing but weakness. But it had been three days since he had been with Grace.

  His temper was frayed. He wasn't sleeping. The gods forsaken glands in his mouth were so ready to secrete the mating pheromones, and his teeth were so worn down from grinding that he might not ever be able to perform a mating bite.

  The thought that the humans might someday succeed in attempts to return to their own galaxy brought him close to the Obosian Warrior Frenzy.

  "Possibly." He leaned his head back with his eyes closed. "I do not know."

  "Explain."

  "I reacted to her. And I thought it would go away after I had her."

  They merely stared at him, waiting for more.

  Zhadra finally conceded. "The rumors about the mating glands appear to be true."

  Brhex and his father exchanged glances. The two had been grappling with the birth rate decline.

  Brhex, who had appeared impatient for the meeting to end, leaned forward and poured a cup of tea for himself. "The researchers have a new theory. They believe the Obosian male sperm has been damaged, possibly by something encountered off planet during the Sigma Planetary Wars."

  His father looked bleak. "Which means that our strongest warriors may not be able to procreate. The strongest genes of our planet could die with us."

  Brhex continued. "The few warriors who have chosen mates on their own, those who claim an enhanced mating response, have trouble preventing pregnancies. Somehow this enhanced response repairs the sperm."

  "You may have just solved our problem, Zhadra." Brhex showed his teeth. "Congratulations."

  His father lifted the cup to his mouth. The cup did nothing to hide the look of satisfaction on their planet's leader.

  Zhadra knew none of his brothers had found a woman with whom they wished to mate. But he also knew they weren't looking
that hard. They had been reluctant to mate and discover that they could not produce children.

  He threw himself into a chair at the middle of the table and sighed. "I do not even care about children, Brhex. I just want the woman."

  "That's what they all say."

  "They may want her, by gods, but Grace is mine."

  "No, idiot. All the men with the enhanced mating response have said, 'I just want the woman.' They are happy with offspring, but it is not why they mated."

  His father steepled his fingers. "Zhadra. Invite the humans to a banquet here tomorrow evening. I wish to meet them."

  Zhadra folded his arms and stared at this brother. He could be an underhanded bastard. "I will not have you interfering with my woman."

  "If this woman can turn your stubborn head away from the disaster with Zhiksi, I want to meet her."

  Zhadra hadn't heard her name in over five years. After she'd been taken by the Telosians, he'd traded himself to secure her release. But they'd killed her anyway. It had been her bad luck to be promised to him before she'd even been born.

  An hour later, Zhadra found himself at the docking station, asking permission to board his own ship. It was ridiculous. If he'd wanted, he could have taken it back in a matter of minutes.

  But he did not want the humans hurt. And, they had a point. If they couldn't return to their world, they needed to gain the best possible position for their future on Obos.

  He was invited to the mess hall where Keri and Grace were seated.

  Grace looked more beautiful than ever. Her golden hair shimmered in the lights and her blue eyes were pools of mystery as she met his gaze. He saw female interest, nay, longing. But also, sadness and fierce determination.

  It worried him that his last word to her had been a threat to return her to the Vermians. So reckless with something so precious.

  This time the women had replicated some sort of uniform with silver and black tunics and emblems of their planetary system. It did not escape his attention that they were both armed with laser pistols.

  "Please sit, Admiral," Keri said.

  "Is there anything you need?"

  "Other than a solution to this standoff, no."

  He turned to Grace. "And how do you fare?"

  "We are interested in seeing more of Obos someday. It looks beautiful through the viewscreen. But we are not so interested that we will be ruled in our own household."

  "I am here on behalf of my father and brother. They wish to host a banquet in your honor."

  Grace narrowed her eyes. "Where?"

  "At his residence. Tomorrow evening."

  "Is this a thinly veiled attempt to get us off this ship?"

  "Yes and no. It is an attempt, and it is not veiled in the least. If you don't meet the leaders of Obos, you can't very well negotiate with them."

  "Your word that we may return?"

  "If the decision is up to me, you have my word."

  "But?"

  "I do not run this planet."

  The women exchanged glances.

  Finally, Grace spoke. "Is there a dress code?"

  "I can send you a specialist in Obosian female attire."

  She wrinkled her nose. He had been pretty sure that would not fly. He could not help himself from an alternate suggestion. "You know how I prefer your appearance, Grace."

  She glared at him and he smiled. It felt good to be with her again. And perhaps all was not lost. "Whatever your world deems as formal attire, warrior. And, of course, no weapons at the table."

  "All right," Keri said. "Grace. I'll let you escort the Admiral off our ship. I'm going to work with the crew to get our very special dress uniforms ready."

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Zhadra arrived to escort Grace and the crew to his father's house, it looked as if he was having trouble swallowing.

  All the crew wore moto jackets of gray that displayed their rank in silver on their epaulets and their branch on the sleeves. They also each wore a silver cuff bracelet with the insignia of the Consolidated Planetary Union.

  The cuff contained a hidden knife that projected for close combat. Keri had sworn she'd heard Zhadra say 'no visible weapons at the table.'

  The jackets and cuffs were the only similarity among their uniforms. Emma and Charlotte had come up with a variety of designs for the uniform beneath.

  Grace knew she and Keri looked like tough, sexy women on the prowl. They wore the black manufactured leathers of a biker babe complete with bustier, tight black pants and boots.

  Grace knew her ample breasts were on display. She'd complained about looking like a vid game bimbo babe but had been overruled by the rest of the crew.

  Testing a theory, Grace unfastened the top of the jacket and exposed the bustier.

  Zhadra looked at her and growled. Perhaps bimbo babe for one night in a good cause was acceptable.

  Grace's inner bitch goddess stirred at the growl, but she merely nodded and walked toward his flyer, making sure he got a good look at the way the leathers and short jacket showcased her ass.

  She noticed that his brother, Jhergh, who was also in the party accompanying them, stayed very close to Emma, Charlotte, and Sophie, but she couldn't tell if he favored any particular woman. They all looked sexy as hell. All the women had the smoky eye, tousled or spiky hair look.

  Sophie and Charlotte's underlying uniform was a sophisticated burlesque look. The curvy women wore a chain mail halter bodice with a half bustle skirt floating down their rear ends in gossamer silver and black. Their sheer black body tights were topped with lace-up boots that looked dainty but had traction for running and strategically placed metal for kicking.

  Emma and Tina had gone for the deceptively delicate ballerina look. They sported a gray bandeau that was loosely draped with gossamer transparent gray cloth, which ended in a delicate wrap skirt. They wore ballet slippers -- with hidden tusniam metal toes.

  They'd also made Scott wear a pair of old school black jeans with a white dress shirt and biker boots. The women had convinced him not to shave so he had that sexy stubble that appealed to women.

  When they arrived at his father's house, she was stunned. It was at least two football fields long with overlapping green roofs on top, and stacked fuel cells and solar panels broke the plane periodically.

  They followed Zhadra inside along a limestone corridor to a large banquet room. They saw Khaid and a few other dignitaries in a loose group with two large Obosians who resembled Zhadra and had to be his younger brothers.

  The only woman present was Lhiranna, and she was standing next to an older man at the far end of the hall. Lhiranna wore a long, brilliant red tunic that hinted at her curves beneath the fabric. There were golden sandals on her feet.

  Though the lyrical music from the corner musicians continued, all conversation stopped when Zhadra led them through the room. He stopped near Lhiranna before the older man who had to be his father. There were streaks of gray through the man's black hair, but he was otherwise tall and appeared nearly as strong as his son.

  "Father, I'd like to introduce the rescued crew of the human vessel, Defiance. This is Captain Keri Hampton. Keri, my father, Zral Savo, is the past Precep of Agra-Obos and current President of the Council of Obosian Nations. Father, Captain Hampton was in command of her vessel at the time of the Vermian attack."

  "President Savo." Keri extended her hand. Zhadra's father looked fascinated. He reached out and grasped it loosely as if he thought he might break the delicate appendage. "Thank you for your hospitality," Keri said. "May I introduce the rest of my crew?"

  Keri went on to introduce the remaining crew members with their rank and roles as engineer, combat, weapons, engineering, medical, and intelligence.

  When Zhadra introduced her to Brhex, Grace saw Keri falter slightly before extending her hand to the leader of Agra-Obos. The man was a little shorter than Zhadra but looked more aggressive and intimidating.

  Brhex also had black hair streaming past his should
ers, but it was a blue black and his horns also had a hint of midnight blue. There were more patches of gold on his silver skin than on Zhadra's.

  Brhex took Keri's hand. "I am surprised you are so proud of your position, Captain. It is not every day that a commander loses a vessel and becomes a captive."

  Grace gasped, but Keri did not drop her smile. She maintained her grip on Brhex's hand, narrowed her eyes, and turned slightly so that her voice would carry.

  "Really? And I thought since Lords Khaiden and Zhadra were also prisoners, that it was a rite of passage in this sector. We were, of course, delighted to help rescue them."

  Brhex showed his teeth but did not look offended. "I believe it is time for us to sit for our meal."

  Grace looked up at Zhadra, who had moved to her side. "You and Brhex went to the same charm school?"

  Zhadra looked amused. "Yes, but he has not been enlightened by a human warrior woman."

  Grace didn't know what to make of that. She allowed him to escort her to her seat. The humans had been given designated seating so that they were dispersed throughout the Obosian ranks.

  All the humans removed their jackets before they took their seats and she heard him suck in his breath. Her inner flirt surfaced and threw back her shoulders.

  There were representatives of some of the other Obosian nations that had blue and green sprinkled about on their silver skin, but she didn't catch their names.

  A minor prince from Arida-Obos was on her left. Dregh's skin had the underlying silver of all Obosians, but his skin was mottled with chameleon colors of green, pink, brown and yellow.

  The guy on her other side, B'econ, an Agra-Obosian, seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes off Lhiranna. The interest did not appear to be mutual.

  There were two ministers from Agra Obos on either side of Keri. They seemed very interested in her captain.

  The one named Ridax looked amused and aroused with a glow to his golden eyes. The other, an older man named Won Gala, looked genuinely curious and maintained an animated discussion about earth.

  Khaid sat next to Tina, who looked like a fairy without wings. Grace had to stifle a laugh more than once when she saw Khaid's green eyes begin to glow and heard the older man next to him - had to be his father -- growl at him.