Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3)

by C. C. Ekeke

  Good afternoon, Habraum. The greeting popped into Habraum’s mind just as he neared the Command Center’s exit, as if someone standing nearby had spoken. He looked up from his datapad and turned to the railing. In the middle of the Center’s chaos stood Lethe, Hollus’s director of operations.

  The tall Kudoban stood to the side dressed in professional blue and gold robes, discussing a matter with two Voton analysts. Just then, Lethe’s elongated neck and egg-shaped head craned up for a brief moment in Habraum’s direction. This one-time Union diplomat had managed the daily operations of the starbase for as long as Habraum had been affiliated with the Star Brigade. And Lethe had, more often than not, lent his ears to Habraum and other Brigadiers when needed. The Cerc smiled genially and waved downward before exiting the room as its doors hissed open.

  After the debriefing adjourned, he had already planned the rest of his day. He was definitely not looking forward to diving into all the busywork he had neglected this week. However, Habraum couldn’t wait for Jeremy to return from school on Terra Sollus…

  Once Habraum reached the War Room and entered, he saw everyone around the table but Marguliese laughing heartily at some bawdy tale Sam was relaying. The jesting quickly tapered off and heads turned as the entrance hissed open.

  Sam practically glowed when she saw him. “There he is!”

  Khrome, Tyris, and Jan’Hax began to yell out. “HEEEEY—”

  Habraum acknowledged them with a nod and sat at the other end of the War Room table, directly across from Sam. “Ollrigh’, we’ll make this meet-and-brief short.”

  At the same time, Tyris and Khrome chattered on in a not-so-quiet fashion.

  “Guys,” Sam snapped, promptly silencing the pair.

  “Spoke with UniPol,” Habraum began. “The CoE operatives we caught know little, if anything.”

  A groan rippled across the table’s length. “We’re back at square one?” V’Korram grumbled.

  “Not necessarily,” Marguliese said, her mechanized tone turning heads. “There is Kingston Reyes.”

  Habraum’s gaze fell on Khrome. “Everything prepped there?”

  “Yessir.” The Thulican nodded his shiny, flat-topped head. “We can read his vitals and exact location from Hollus. Right now, he hasn’t done much moving, but I have analysts watching him nonstop.”

  Habraum nodded in approval before turning to Liliana. “Any news on that Korvenite?”

  Liliana cleared her throat before speaking, “The autopsy confirms everything we suspected. Physically he should still be alive, except there is no hint of any bioelectricity levels that the cells in a humanoid body produce.” As the young doctor ran both hands through her pixie-cut hair, one could sense her confusion as she continued, “By the faint energy traces on his chest, it’s as if something latched onto this Korvenite and drained all his bioelectricity. That’s what caused his body to completely shut down.”

  “Maybe it was a soul-sucking osvowraith!” Khrome spookily waved about his fingers.

  Sam snorted. “Yeeeah, a fable concocted to scare their kids did this?”

  “Don’t treat this like some giant greybrick,” Habraum snapped, sucking on his teeth in annoyance. His focus returned to Liliana. “Cortes…Khrome, transfer whatever CoE information you’ve gathered to your CT-2 counterpart. That goes for the lot of you, as well. They’re taking lead on this op from now on.”

  Nods of agreement and some “Yes, sirs” followed. Habraum scanned his group and smirked. “O’llrigh. Told ya this would be short and pithy. But before we go, I got some non-assignment items.”

  Habraum actually enjoyed this part of post-mission briefings; it lightened the mood. He picked up his sleek datapad to punch in a few commands. “Now, my younger sister told me about some amazing research article she found in the Poston Medical Journal of ExoBiochemistry…” he began.

  Everyone at the table looked confused except Liliana, whose eyes widened in terrified recognition.

  “…written by Dr. Liliana Cortes, it discusses the effects of xenoprophin, a neurotransmitter produced by maximums, on curing Geusian Syndrome.” All eyes zeroed in on Liliana. The doctor’s light-brown complexion had turned brick red.

  Sam gave Liliana a glowing look. “Way to go, Doctor Cortes!” When she began clapping, everyone eagerly followed suit. Tyris patted her on the back. V’Korram harrumphed.

  “Thanks, guys,” Cortes mumbled and visibly squirmed in her seat, never one to enjoy the spotlight.

  “Lastly, we have the departure of CT-1’s intelligence officer and my XO, Samantha D’Urso.” The Cerc turned to Jan’Hax and eyed him sympathetically. “Ya poor bastard. She’s your field commander now, so good luck. You’re gonna need it by the shipload!”

  Again, the group roared merrily—except Marguliese. Sam flashed Habraum a look of mock outrage.

  The tall Cerc rose from his chair, sobering his features. “All squit-talk aside. Samantha, you’ve been…you are essential to Star Brigade in so many ways. You’re the glue. So while you’ll be missed on CT-1, I know I speak for everyone when I congratulate you on becoming field commander of CT-2!”

  Habraum, Brigade Executive Officer of Star Brigade, raised both his hands and began a slow clap. Liliana stood up to join in, followed by Marguliese, and soon everyone else at the table. Khrome opted to clap his metallic hands very softly, as the din from his normal claps might actually rupture an eardrum.

  Looking around at each Brigadier, Sam’s features filled with an untidy heap of emotions—gratitude, sadness, and affection, to name a few. But in typical Sam fashion, she hastily veiled it all up behind a boisterous laugh and waved off the applause. “Oh, stop!”

  “Doing anything tonight to celebrate?” Jan’Hax asked, smiling.

  Absolutely beaming, Sam answered, “Khrome and Lily got me crescent mooncake! Tharydane and I will eat it while watching some Far Side of the Galaxy.”

  “Cake and a sappy space opera,” Liliana mused drolly. “Can’t beat an evening like that.”

  “FSG’s a military drama, Lily. Not like that sappy When Heavenly Bodies Collide,” Khrome corrected her, drawing stares. Seeing this, the Thulican scowled. “It’s my guilty pleasure. Whatever.” Khrome then began to clap gently again, renewing the ovation for Sam.

  Amid the applause and catcalls, Sam looked pointedly at Habraum and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  The Cerc, filled with such pride for his longtime friend, held her gaze and winked. Sam shifted awkwardly in her seat as a dark flush stained her olive complexion. Habraum barely swallowed a laugh.

  Just as quickly, Sam broke eye contact before anyone caught the charged exchange. But she couldn’t hide her crooked little grin as the applause from her Star Brigade family continued.

  Chapter 8

  “I’m so going miss your face,” Liliana Cortes exclaimed forlornly.

  “I’m gonna miss your face too, lovey,” Sam agreed, smiling. She had just sauntered out from the War Room. Lily, taller by four inches, kept pace with dainty strides. “Especially now that you’re famous.”

  “Dulce Madre, don’t start,” the doctor groaned.

  “Couldn’t resist.” Then Sam gave her shoulders a friendly squeeze, and was stunned by how slight the slender doctor felt. “Liliana Lucia! I swear if you get any skinnier I’ll start shoving whole loaves of bread down your throat!”

  “What are you talking about?” Lily glanced at her in surprise. “I eat!”

  Sam scoffed. “Not nearly enough.” The two friends exited the Command Center into a pale red corridor, heading east. In passing, Sam spied Habraum and Khrome walking side by side down an intersecting corridor in a visibly heated debate. Unsurprisingly, the squat armor-skinned Thulican did most of the talking.

  Liliana also observed, scratching her cropped dark hair in confusion. “What that’s about?”

  Sam shrugged, not having to guess. “Khrome’s not thrilled about the face replacing mine on CT-1.”

  “Mmmmm.” Liliana flashed
one of her shy smiles. “What’s not to like about that face?”

  “[What comes out of his mouth,]” Sam replied in Spanish, to keep their conversation private. The face in question belonged to Khaladin Al Abdullah aka “Khal.” “[Yeah, Khal’s a known pompous ass.]” She idly fingered her heartknot necklace. “[But he’s my top intel operative, one of the best I’ve seen. After how well he meshed with CT-1 in training, him taking my spot was a no-brainer.]”

  “[I guess.]” Lily glanced down as they continued through the bustling corridor. “[I’ve met Khal a few times off duty. By the Maker, he’s so…]” She blushed, searching for the right words without sounding improper.

  “[Knee-bucklingly beautiful?]” Sam finished dreamily. “[And with the best hair ever on a human?]”

  “[Exactly!]” Liliana gestured eagerly. “[But after speaking with him for more than five macroms—]”

  “[You’re not sure if you want to punch him or ravish him?]” Sam added more frankly.

  “[If you say so.]” The prim doctor nodded, unsettled yet unsurprised. “[And if Khal’s ego lives up to all the stories I’m hearing, you’d think he’s packing a pulse rifle in his pants or something!]”

  Sam rolled her eyes, a guilty thrill washing over her. “[Certainly something.]” She cringed, glancing at Lily.

  Confident that the doctor missed the import in those words, Sam regarded her with a pervy little grin. “When I recruited Khal,” she continued in Standard, “I asked if I could run my fingers through his hair.”

  Lily gaped in scandalized delight. “You did NOT!”

  “It’s me, Lily. Of course I did,” Sam threw back. “And he happily obliged.” Again, both women dissolved into cackles. Liliana’s reaction was expected, but Sam knew her prudish scolding always came from a good place. The doctor was Sam’s nearest thing to a best girlfriend on Star Brigade. But she loved all her ex-teammates—except Marguliese. CT-2 wouldn’t be the same, despite it being her own team.

  You have to be their field commander, not their den mother, Habraum had lectured a few weeks ago.

  The twosome soon reached the entry to Star Brigade Intelligence, Sam’s other group.

  “I’m off to run more tests on that Korvenite corpse.” Liliana walked past the entrance.

  “Great. We doing the thing later on?”

  “Totally.” Lily’s tight little smile didn’t reach her beady eyes. “I’ll even get a sandwich!”

  “You better.” Sam pointed at her. The “thing” was shorthand for their post-mission ritual of getting late-night drinks. Tonight’s “thing” would be their last as CT-1 teammates, Sam realized sadly. “Pilot Pub? 2130 orvs?”

  “Where it all started,” Lily called over her shoulder. “See ya, mama.”

  “Bye, sweets!” Sam turned and entered her department’s sliding doors.

  Star Brigade Intelligence didn’t boast a large workspace or staff, but both were enough for Sam’s needs. Her eight analysts, all different species, sat at their workstations with dozens of holoscreens open, processing incoming data streams to determine any relevance to Brigade operations.

  In the office’s center, deputy director Lhe Joucho—with bulbous red eyes and fleshy wattles dangling from his face—tended to his many tasks. Always wise having a Rhomeran on an intel department. He handled the daily responsibilities that Sam found boring, which was most of them. A haze of urgency saturated the department at varied levels, contingent on the occasion. But Sam always strived for a relaxed atmosphere so her team didn’t become hyper-stressed like in the Hollus Command Center.

  “Hey kids,” she called out, sauntering into the office. The group returned her greeting with similar gusto, otherwise a hurried wave of a hand or similar appendage. Sam approached the closest workstation. Its occupant, one of her three active field operators, clacked away at a holoscreen.

  “Surje, hullo!” she greeted the Voton ensign amiably and sat at the edge of his desk. After a closer look, her warmth shifted to concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Wearing a grey Brigade officer uniform, Surje’s deep-red skin glittered with a fire that Sam recognized as anger. He studied her through pale, pupil-less blue eyes and rubbed the three grey crests atop his head. “There’s a visitor. In your office,” he nodded in disgust at Sam’s closed office door toward the department’s furthest end.

  Sam raised a confused eyebrow until she spied the empty workstation right across from Surje. “Ah. Thanks.”

  She found him in her chair as if he belonged there, both feet propped up on her desk. The walls on the right of her office were covered with holoscreens pulling the latest intel bundles from UniPol, UIB, and other Union intelligence agencies. Filling the left-hand wall were photos of every combat team Sam had been part of, including her graduating class of recruits. Nonetheless, the most beautiful thing in her office was Second Lt. Khaladin Al Abdullah. To Sam, her swarthy earthborn subordinate resembled a painstakingly carved slab of human testosterone that would appeal to any species. Khal’s clean-cut face was slightly elongated, supporting a sharp aquiline nose, a strong jaw, and cheekbones that could cut Tyberian steel.

  Maybe it was just Sam’s imaginings, but Khal’s grey and red lieutenant uniform clung like plastic wrap to his lean and muscular build. Then there was the hair, flowing back and down in sumptuous ebony waves—curly and falling just around neck length. Today Khal tousled his hair a bit for a more windswept look, which worked like magic. Even Sam caught herself zoning out on him.

  Christ, this one’s delicious, she couldn’t help but marvel, steeling herself behind a professional mask. “Privacy Mode,” she commanded as the door shut behind her. “You lost, Lieutenant?”

  Khal swaggered up to his feet as Sam approached. He stood about over half a head taller than her. “Never,” he scoffed, his accent hailing from the Arabic nation of Nahrain on Terra Sollus. “Been waiting for you, Sam,” Khal announced lazily, always smirking. From afar, his eyes looked black. Up close they were a gorgeous dark grey and brimming with arrogance. “Looking lovely as always,” he added, brazenly peering down the décolletage of Sam’s hoodie.

  Sam followed his gaze with an exasperated chuckle. Thank God no one else was around, particularly Habraum. “If not for that pretty face.” She grabbed Khal’s chin and jerked it up so their eyes met. Moving around him, Sam plopped into her seat. “Latest on the Children of Earth. GO.”

  “You’d be pleased with my work,” Khal boasted, practically high-fiving himself. He leaned against her desk so they were facing each other. “It’s in a class all by itself—”

  “Jerk off to yourself later,” Sam cut in, blunt and brisk. “Get to the point now.”

  Khal exhaled and reached back melodramatically toward Sam’s desk. At first look, he seemed to be stretching. Until a paper-thin 6” datapad quivered on the transparent desk and flew right into Khal’s waiting hand.

  Sam rolled her eyes. Khal loved showboating with his telekinesis.

  “According to the info from Khrome’s tracker, Kingston Reyes is still in the Conuropolis sewers,” Khal stated, all business now. He typed something on the datapad. “Tailing his movements won’t be an issue once he moves or tries contacting another CoE cell.”

  “UniPol’s getting nothing from the hostiles we captured,” Sam said, running her fingers across her pulled-back locks. “Reyes, UniPol’s spies, and Addison Raichoudry’s info dumps are now our best avenues.” Sam folded her arms across her chest. “What if Reyes escapes from Terra Sollus?”

  “Already covered.” Unlike Surje, Khal’s confidence remained steadfast to a fault. “I had UniPol insert him into the Terra Sollus criminal databases, meaning he can’t take one step on Terra Sollus’s surface without being nabbed by authorities. I also flagged him on the Aerospace Security Agency’s ‘Do Not Fly’ database for all Terra Sollus’s spaceports. And if he does manage to get offworld, I had UniPol mark him a fugitive at every habitable world, moon, outpost, and commerce station in the Rhyne System,” Kh
al continued. “He’s trapped.”

  “W-O-W.” Sam nodded in satisfaction. “That’s a mouthful.”

  A smarmy grin spread across Khal’s handsome face. “So the ladies keep telling me.”

  Sam snorted, knowing she walked right into that. “Charming. Look, Khal—” With those last two words, her demeanor frosted over. “Ease up with that innuendo shit when you’re on CT-1.”

  “Whaaaat?” Khal frowned. “Now my phrasings bother you?”

  “Personally I don’t give a shit.” Sam raised her hands as if stopping traffic. “But Captain Nwosu isn’t me. So don’t be a dumbass. Understood?”

  Khal rolled his eyes, but still nodded in compliance. “Yes, Captain.”

  “My name...not my title,” she reminded him gently, resting a hand on his lower thigh.

  Khal glanced down at her hand with a strange look. “Yes…Sam.”

  “As for CT-1,” Sam’s voice dropped an octave lower, grew a little bit huskier, “next mission is your first with them.” The captain walked her fingers up the length of Khal’s thigh, unhurried and sensual.

  That wiped the smirking arrogance off Khal’s pretty face. Sam saw that pulse rifle instantly stiffen beneath his pants, satisfied by her power over him.

  “How can I forget?” Khal sounded eager, breathless. “Am I authorized to—”

  “Not yet.” Sam looked up at him through her eyelashes with a lopsided grin that smoldered. “For your first few missions you observe, you integrate with the team, and you follow Habraum’s orders. Then report everything back to me, unfiltered.” She dropped her voice to a throaty whisper, giving his leg a slow caress, “When the time’s right, you’ll get my signoff and the necessary support.” Her fingers crept over Khal’s manhood, about to slip down his pants. “Plus the rewards we discussed.”