by Vi Voxley
On Rhea, it would have been her job to settle arguments like this, but somehow it felt so much harder when it concerned her and the simple problem that she was not, in fact, on Rhea or on her way there. For a moment, she wondered how long it would take for the Palians – or the human ambassadors – to start asking questions about her in the GU.
“I just want to go where I was supposed to,” she said.
She might have imagined it, but Deliya looked sympathetic when she nodded. “If it makes you feel better, the Commander did not think it would play out like this. You are in the middle of a bigger conflict,” – Finally, someone understands, at least a little – “and will hopefully understand soon.”
Isolde didn’t see point in further arguing, so she thanked the warrior and sent her away. When alone, she went through the things she’d taken with her from Terra. Mentioning the Palians had triggered something in her mind. Agent Perkins had been very distressed about her mission, and even the Brions acknowledged that it had been important. It didn’t excuse the general in any way, but perhaps he wasn’t keeping her from Rhea simply for his own selfish need.
There was definitely something going on with that planet. Her understanding of it as simply a newly discovered world had been blown on Luna Secunda, but with each passing hour it seemed to be a bigger deal.
She had been sent files and materials about Rhea, but with her abrupt leave-taking, she hadn’t had time to finish them all. The general outline, yes, but she’d focused more on her team and getting to know them – the image of a ship blown to pieces came again, making her stop for a moment and gather herself – and so she had left the detailed materials for in transit reading.
Isolde didn’t understand. Rhea was rumored to be a paradise world, as much as the Brions presently guarding it had implied. Rich with minerals and metals, it was presumably even a possible harvest world for the nearby systems. But was that enough to cause such trouble? It seemed unlikely.
She wished she had taken the time to read sooner, but oh well. She had all the time in the world now.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Diego
Despite their very individualistic character and knowledge of self-worth, the Brions were fiercely protective of their species, first and foremost. That was inherent to them all. They did, however, sometimes disagree on what that entailed.
The will of all Brions was traditionally dictated by the Elders, but they didn’t speak to their people often. Every once in a while, they gave new directions to the senators and left them to govern in their absence, emerging when they were needed.
Technically, disobeying a senator was disobeying the Elders, which was a serious crime. Diego didn’t feel like a traitor, nor did he think for a moment that he had somehow defied the Elders. He just needed proof that he hadn’t, or every Brion ship would target him – or what was left of him after the twin generals were done.
The hologram flickered before him again, bearing the image of another senator, this one on Briolina. She was an old acquaintance of his, though this wasn’t a happy reunion.
“Senator Eleya,” Diego said, saluting. It never hurt to be respectful, particularly to people as of yet unclear on the whole ally/enemy scale.
“Grothan,” she said tersely. Her long hair did not entirely cover the blinking lights on her long, lean neck. Eleya was a rarity of sorts, a warrior become senator. The generals loved her unanimously, since her election had been a not very veiled threat to the senators not to try asserting some sort of control over the Elders.
The generals rarely stayed on Briolina longer than absolutely necessary, spending most of their lives in duty on the move. Eleya hated all of them, because her appointment had been a punishment on their part, making her play guardian to a bunch of politicians. Diego wasn’t entirely sure what she had done to deserve that.
“I am sure you have heard.”
“Do not get smart. I am sure you have a perfectly reasonable explanation and a platter to serve your head upon.”
Diego fought down a smile. Of all the women he had ever met, he’d only regretted not being the gerion to one. But that was ancient history now, and his mind could no longer comprehend how it could have ever desired anything besides Isolde, but Eleya still amused him. “I plan to do no such thing. I seek your council and your aid.”
Eleya laughed. “I will speak your praises at the burial. You always were amusing.”
“Entertain a dead man then.”
“Why should I?”
“To mess with Eren,” Diego said bluntly. The senator’s mouth twisted into an ugly snarl.
“Him,” she murmured. Patiently, Diego waited. “You have one question. I hate you, Grothan, but I loathe him.”
“What were the orders the Elders gave about Rhea?”
Eleya humphed. Diego had met few people who could hold his gaze and still appear unafraid. He liked her. At that moment, he dearly wished she wouldn’t refuse him, or he’d be forced to count her among his enemies. He bet she knew it too. He liked her even more because Eleya wouldn’t take that into account.
“It had become impossible to hide Rhea much longer. It was to be discovered by us and guarded until the usual intergalactic research team could come and assess the worth of the planet. Meanwhile, traces of our presence there would be erased where possible. The goal was to make the team believe the information any of the population might give of us referred to the time after the… discovery. They hardly ever saw us, after all. Those were the orders.
“We dealt with the workers first. Then we decided the first assembled team was not to make it to the planet due to a mishap on their ship giving us more time to remove the evidence. The fate of the second was left to be decided according to the progress of the works on Rhea, as you well know. We decided the second would not reach it either, as you also know. The third might reach it. The first two were meant to be portrayed as misfortunes – an accident and a random attack. Space is not a safe place, after all.”
Eleya recounted all that like she was reciting an inventory list. Then her cold, ruthless eyes turned to Diego. “You put a dent in the plan by refusing to kill the last member of the second mission.”
“She is my gesha,” Diego said. “She is of no harm to us.”
“Unfortunate, but irrelevant,” Eleya shot back. “The reports sent to her, the materials from initial readings the Palians did… We found them to be too specific and have amended that in the files sent to the next team. As they are now, she could see evidence of us knowing about Rhea. If she reaches any GU representative, we are exposed.”
“She will not talk,” Diego insisted.
Eleya smiled without any warmth. “Most reassuring, Grothan. We think it is better to be safe than sorry. Kill her, or we will.”
As he turned off the holographic image, Diego felt like sighing dramatically. It was now the second senator he had refused. He should have felt disturbed, but instead he just felt reassured. He was doing the right thing. A warrior always fought his battles, but it was nice to know the cause was right.
The Brions were in danger, but no outer enemy threatened them. Well, not directly. The true danger lay within themselves, and it took all his self-control to keep the rage burning inside him simmering, not boiling over. The traitors putting their people at risk was one thing, forcing Diego’s hand to fight his own brothers and sisters was another…
Isolde. He needed Isolde. His and his alone, his reason to fight. She had come to his life at a breaking point, but fate must have had a plan for them, or it wouldn’t have sent her his way. Brion was about to fight Brion, but Diego had been given the surety of purpose and something to hold on to.
Somewhere, Briolina was growing larger on the screens mapping their location in space. Diego knew where the twins were most likely to meet him. No fear gripped his heart, though it was possible he’d be dead before Briolina’s sun rose to greet another day.
His feet had taken him to Isolde’s door. He longed for her voice
and the body that begged to be touched even if she fought it. Inwardly cursing the interruption of the moment they could have been bound, Diego gave the door his signal.
When he entered the room, Isolde was sitting on her bed reading the materials she had been given, the ones that had signed her death sentence. In his studies – of Brion materials about humans, designed to give them a better understanding – it hadn’t been overstated enough how much human females hated being lied to. At first, Diego failed to see the point of that exaggeration. Brion women didn’t like it either. Nor men, really. Somehow, the guide still seemed to want to make it very clear how little they liked it.
All that gave Diego pause, but Isolde didn’t seem overly upset. It was possible she hadn’t gotten to the parts that should have hinted at the truth yet, or she wasn’t clever enough to see them. Diego found himself hoping for the first one, somehow. He liked Isolde’s wit and didn’t think it would get past her.
“Commander,” Isolde said, putting the materials away, “I was trying to find out more about Rhea.”
The less you know the better, Diego thought.
Then Isolde’s tone changed. “Deliya said the other generals would catch us soon.”
“We are not really trying to escape,” Diego felt compelled to correct her. “I plan to meet them.”
“Of course,” Isolde said, fear plain on her face. “Brions meet their enemies face to face. I know that. But… there’s two of them. Are you not afraid?”
It was weird. Diego would have hated to see fear in any of his warriors, but this was different. Isolde didn’t seem to be afraid for herself, but scared for his safety. His every instinct called for him to take her in his arms and assure her he would return, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment when Isolde was so close to admitting she actually cared about what happened to him.
“No,” he said simply. “You should not be either. I have looked too long for you to let them take that away.”
He didn’t fully grasp the moments when he apparently did something very right, but they seemed to be connected to him telling the simple truths. Isolde’s soft green eyes went wide and warm, a fire burning in her for him. If only he could reach out and bury himself in that flame, he would be complete. All intentions about giving Isolde time and space kept failing – he would have to give up his title for this woman alone, when he hadn’t surrendered it to any of his enemies – and he couldn’t help catching her in a forceful kiss.
The green in Isolde’s eyes seemed endless, like she wanted to drown him in them. Nerves already on edge from the thought of the upcoming battle, Diego felt himself stir against her, the desire stronger than ever before. Isolde must have felt it too, but for once she didn’t protest.
“Commander,” the comm said.
Diego swore under his breath that one of these days he was going to disable all in-ship communications just so he could have five minutes of undisturbed time with Isolde. It was a wonder they functioned without his guiding presence at all. How did they not crash into a meteorite every time he slept?
“Yes,” he growled.
“They are here,” the bridge simply said.
Isolde, who had been giggling sweetly against his chest, went pale. Diego couldn’t blame her. It must have been scary to suddenly witness two huge warships looming over the Triumphant where minutes ago there’d been only stars, visible to them on the screen mounted on the outer wall of Isolde’s room.
Isolde searched for words, starting to speak several times and trailing off. “Don’t die,” she finally whispered.
“I have no such intention,” he said.
“I don’t think they do either,” Isolde replied.
Diego smiled. “Yes,” he said, “but I am grothan.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Isolde
Isolde was left behind to compose the first part of the epic paper titled “Stupid Brion bravado and why it’s irresistible to women” in her head. Between paragraphs dedicated to the argumentative power of deep blue eyes and a voice that sounded like thunder, she had to wonder why she kept letting the alien warlord kiss her at his leisure.
With every caress, telling him a final no kept getting harder and less likely. Isolde would have dearly wished to know if there was a limit by which point you were obligated to marry the aliens you’d been leading on for too long, because the kisses were just that damn good and the muscles so hard under his uniform…
It was much better to focus on that and not the two ships sitting outside, surely staring at her. Helen of Troy had launched ten thousand ships and Isolde of Terra had so far managed to call only two to chase her, but then again, Helen’s hadn’t looked like they could house a small city – or a big one, to be honest. Looking at the ships, because there honestly didn’t seem anything else useful she could be doing, Isolde’s mind jumped to overcompensating jokes.
I mean, c’mon, I thought the Triumphant was big – no, don’t even go there – but these two… there has to be a point where building a bigger ship is just no longer practical. Wouldn’t it just be easier to reinforce a small moon and send it off to scare your enemies?
Truth be told, neither of the ships Isolde was eyeing with equal parts weary resignation and very actual dread had a reputation quite as fierce as the Triumphant. Bigger they could be, maybe even faster, which would partly explain why her general – Her? Really? – didn’t bother to run, but neither of them were commanded by Diego Grothan.
She would have to apologize to Deliya at some point, because a part of her felt proud. Any woman would be lucky to be his gesha, the Brion woman had said. And despite herself, Isolde was.
Even more in spite of herself, she was curious. She had never seen Brions fight, but judging from the way Diego spoke, it wouldn’t come to that. If no blood was to be spilled, she would have loved to see him handle the situation. In fact, shouldn’t she be present? It was about her, after all.
There was no way she could sneak out. This was not her ship, not even her species, and her guards weren’t chosen for their lack of eyesight. No, she’d have to convince them to take her to Diego. Perhaps some womanly convincing was needed? But judging from her brief previous experiences, she and Deliya had little in common as the Brion warrior was an accomplished officer, a warrior first and a woman second, even if she was oh so pretty… Annoyingly pretty. Damn her.
Isolde desperately tried to find an angle as she watched two carriers detach themselves from the looming warships and calmly make their way to the Triumphant. They could travel with no fear; the Brions considered space battles the lowest form of fight and resorted to them only when absolutely necessary. There was little honor for them to kill someone whose face they didn’t see, over distances so great they could have died minutes after the death shot was fired.
No, the Brions wanted to see the blood of their enemies and know they had won on their own. Isolde shuddered for a moment, wondering how likely it was that the Brion temperament would make an appearance at that meeting.
Then an idea came to her, so obvious she didn’t understand how she hadn’t thought of it before. She actually felt a little bad for Deliya.
Isolde quickly covered herself up better, though her clothes demanded a wash at some less life-threatening time, and rushed to the door. Deliya and Narath were both present, presumably the danger to her was at its peak with the twin generals at their door. She didn’t exactly startle them, but her request did.
“It is most unusual,” Narath boomed.
“Of course,” Isolde said. “But me being here is unusual to begin with. How many humans have even seen the inside of a Brion warship?”
Deliya seemed to hesitate. “The Commander did not authorize this. You would be safer in your room until this matter has been concluded.”
Now to the heart of things.
“I thought about how you said that a gesha should be proud to have him. But I don’t even know him yet, only what I’ve heard. Right now I could see him in his true form. I
would see why they call him grothan.”
The look on the Brion woman’s face told her she had already succeeded, but to put a nail in that coffin, she coyly added, “Besides, I… worry.”
For a moment, Isolde feared she had ruined everything by implying she did not believe in his martial prowess, but she’d underestimated their understanding of cultural differences. Both looked at her as one might look upon an ignorant child. They exchanged a quick look, and then Deliya nodded.
“Very well. I will take responsibility. It would be good for you to see your gerion, to know that we do not lie. And you would see why we do not worry. Yes. This would do you good.”
As they led her through the corridors, still heavily guarded by both Deliya and Narath’s warriors, Isolde couldn’t help but feel victorious herself. Maybe she should be called grothan too. After all, it hadn’t been difficult to play at the warriors’ obvious love for their commander by implying they could help him connect with his gesha.
In her heart – the same old ticker that had made her speak in agent Perkins’ defense to one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy – she hoped that she didn’t get Deliya and Narath in too much trouble. Their orders were to guard her, after all. They could just as well do that somewhere away from her room. No harm done.
The arena seemed crowded to Isolde, but Deliya and Narath easily made their way through the Brions to stand at the front of a balcony looking down upon a very gladiatorial arena not of sand and scorching hot sun, but a floor of so finely polished wood that Isolde could make out the reflections of the Brions on the ground. At the front, Diego stood at ease, waiting. His eyed darted up to the balcony at the murmurs that rose when Isolde came forward. Even in the dimness that was natural on Brion ships, Isolde could make out several conflicting emotions flashing in his eyes one after another.