by Imogene Nix
Star of the Fleet
by
Imogene Nix
Star of the Fleet
Copyright © 2016, Imogene Nix
ISBN: 9781944270438
Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.
Electronic Publication: October 2016
Editor: Sassie Lewis
Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs
eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Back Cover Copy
When betrayal and loyalty collide, can love overcome all obstacles?
Kera Aarens is strong, sexy, and focused on her new role as commander of security on Aenna, but she’s recovering from injuries she suffered at the hand of Crick Sur Banden, the leader of the Ru’Edan Rogues. Offered the job of protecting the hidden Admiralty base, this driven warrior is desperate to regain her balance.
Admiral Gustav Elphin is in charge of the base and was previously Kera’s commander aboard the Star of Ishtar, the scene of his greatest regret. He vividly remembers—and regrets—not fulfilling the promise of one night of passion with this amazing woman. Now Kera’s back in his life, and he’d do just about anything to close the emotional chasm between them.
Facing a breach of station security, and multiple personal threats to each of them, Kera and Gustav must work together to neutralize the agent who’s hidden among the workers of the station. And somewhere along the way, maybe, they will find a second chance at love.
Content Warning: Space travel, violence, and evil aliens abound
Chapter 1
“We should be disembarking you soon, Commander.”
Kera slumped down in the seat, watching through the porthole as the small shuttle pulled alongside. Its dark gray mass loomed ever closer to the freighter and the area she was waiting in. The bumping and grinding of the vessels joining caused her tiny duffle bag to jostle against her feet. The noise of the extending walkway did little to alleviate the ache still churning through her abused body or the dull pounding in her head. Even after weeks of therapy, the lingering traces of the abuse remained with her.
The medics and SurgiTechs had worked hard to heal the torn, damaged bones and muscles below the surface, allowing her to regain full use of her limbs. More often than not now, she moved without the streaking pain flashing through her system. But too long in the same position meant some muscles still seized every now and again, and she grimaced as two weeks of freighter travel proved that rule true. The techs had assured her though, in time, that too would cease. She hoped it would be sooner rather than later as she rubbed her left hip.
After Elara, the SurgiTech on the Elector, had pronounced her fit enough to travel back to Aenna and on the admiral’s orders, Duvall McCord had quickly arranged her ride on a commercial freighter. Since the incursions of the Phobos pirates, the ship had to wait to join a guarded flotilla, and one wasn’t going to be there for some time if they didn’t take the only available opportunity.
As usual with those of Duvall McCord’s ilk, there had been strings pulled to ensure she was out of the way—and on her way back to the base, whether she wanted it or not—with as much speed as possible
The last five weeks had been grueling. While the bruises had faded and finally disappeared from her skin, and the bones, broken over months of torture, had knitted, it was the injuries laying below the surface of her mind that still caused her emotional pain. Her memories visited her as nightmares each time she slept.
When she arrived at the base, Gustav Elphin would be there waiting, of course. As an admiral, Aenna was where he belonged. She closed her tired, aching eyes, and a vision of him rose behind the tightly closed lids. For a long time, he had been the fleet captain aboard the Star of Ishtar. In the last few years, his promotion to admiral had put him behind a desk, much against his own desires, she was sure.
Kera had been a raw recruit when she first met Gustav. Not long after his most trusted crew—his nephew Chowd, Grayson Myatt, and Duvall McCord—had left the Ishtar. These three were now members of the highly decorated Elector crew, quietly considered to be the best of the best.
From the first moment she had spied the admiral, she’d sensed the loneliness emanating from him. Not just the kindred feelings of a lost soul, but something deeper. Over time she came to recognize that indefinable emotion. It tied into the deeply sensual pull on her senses, making her want a future that remained out of her grasp. The yearning for a physical connection made the situation, from her perspective, so much harder to bear. Especially when he had, by action, shown her his preference for being alone.
Kera knew the dragging pull of loneliness. Since the death of her husband, Martin—in a sortie against Crick Sur Banden’s own rogues—she had felt as if part of her was lost. And nothing could fill the void. At least until Gustav.
She knew he experienced the inexplicable connection too. Every now and then, she had met his gaze and read that knowledge of loss and pain in his blue eyes. Then he would pull back and shut down his emotions to become the senior officer again. Each time he did, the hurt cut a little deeper. Kera grimaced. Now she was about to meet the shuttle which would pull her back into his world.
Both excitement and dread coursed through her at the prospect of seeing him once more. She yearned to be near him. It was as if she’d been starved of the oxygen she needed to breathe and he would give that back to her. But Kera worried he might cut her loose again and shut down on her emotionally, as he always had. That was, if he did anything at all about their nonexistent relationship.
The uncertain emotional situation was the major reason she had taken a role with the diplomatic corps on the Ru’Edan home world. The need to escape the memories, of an encounter he obviously didn’t remember, drove her mercilessly. She had always weighed his responses with the certain knowledge that her feelings had never changed. Even when the pain of his apparent rejection sat heavily on her shoulders.
The clank and whirr of the airlocks roused her from those depressing memories. Kera waited impatiently, watching as the heavy metal hatch swung open to reveal a young man, probably in his early twenties. She stood, shouldering her bag.
The ensign saluted her crisply, his flight suit freshly pressed. She had to suppress a small laugh. He was perfect in his uniform from the precision combing of his blond hair to the tips of his shiny deck boots. Did I ever look so young, so eager? The thought startled her. Since when had she become cynical about youth?
“Ma’am, if you’ll follow me. The captain requests your presence on the bridge.”
His step backward—on the clanking deck—was regulation length she noted with a silent snort. The sound of his heavy boots rang through the almost empty bay.
She turned around, giving a small smile to the waiting crewmember of the Merry Darling Girl who had accompanied her. “Thank your captain once again for his assistance and forbearance.”
His reply was a quick nod.
Turning, she stepped over the lip of the open hatch and walked the few steps through the secondary airlock. Kera listened to the rattle and bang as it swung closed behind her and the hatches lock sequence lights changed color.
“Ma’am, err, Commander Aarens? My name is Ensign Preston, and it is my duty to ensure that on this run your needs are adequately addressed. Would you like me to take your bag?” His voice was earnest, and once more, she looked at the young man.
“Thank you, Preston. Yes, take my bag and show me to the bridge.”
He swooped in, grabbed the half-empty bag, and sped off along the corridor. Obviously new out of the academy, she mused as they moved down the dingy walkway. The lights flickered and an acrid, oily smell tainted the air.
The compact shuttlecraft was not one of the newer, sleeker models and was obviously used for transporting goods along with the occasional sentient species. The drab gray walls were dinted and pitted with age, and she wondered idly who the captain in charge was. A metal door clanged, and she looked forward to the bridge, revealed through the opening hatchway. Kera stopped momentarily before dipping her head and slowly stepping through, entering into the waiting silence.
“Commander Aarens? Captain Alverson. I’m glad you made it safe and sound. Those freighters aren’t built with military staff in mind. They don’t meet our needs too well, but you’re now safely back in the Admiralty’s hands. Take a seat and buckle in.”
His ruddy face, portly figure, and the shock of white hair reminded her of the ancient myth of Santa Claus, a tale she had read during her time at the academy. She grinned inwardly at the whimsical thought. Finding an empty spot in a taped-up seat, Kera pulled the belts around her body and heard them snick in their locks.
“It’s a two-day run to the Admiralty from here,” he told her, his loud voice booming over the bridge.
The sounds of the engines thrummed around the cabin. Vibrations grew underfoot as she waited and watched, the unhurried movements of the crew quietly reassuring her that she was leaving this hellhole. She listened to the low drone of voices surrounding her. The captain gave the command to pull away, and the force involved thrust her hard into the seat as they moved away from the freighter. She didn’t glance back.
* * * *
The shuttle docked in the large hangar used for Admiralty and official visitors. There were other hangars, but she had never needed to enter them. She dragged herself out of the craft and took a look around. Years had passed since she’d last been at the Admiralty base on Aenna, but it hadn’t changed much.
The movement of ground crews reminded her of the schools of fish she had seen on the remnants of the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. Colorful swarms moved over the shuttles as she stepped onto the plascrete flooring. Red suits for the engineering staff, yellow for the general maintenance workers, both interspersed with the gray ship suits.
The cacophony rising up as announcements blared over the speakers hurt her ears after the relative quiet and calm she had enjoyed for the last few weeks. Each bay filled with a seething mass of people trooping on and off crafts while alarm lights whirred, signaling incoming shuttles and outgoing mini-transports. She turned, once more shouldering her duffel, and headed for the doors leading to the inner offices.
“What...” An itch on her back irritated, warning her of potential danger, and she lifted a hand to the back of her head and scratched lightly before swinging slowly around. It was instinctual, the need to scan the hangar. To find who watched her. With so many people swarming, if someone was watching her, she couldn’t detect them.
Kera shrugged her concern away. Here in the bay, anyway, she was relatively safe, and she felt certain they were merely watching, but she’d be more aware from now on. She refocused on her task and walked toward the large glassed doors.
Entering the quiet reception center, she waited for the officers behind the desk to acknowledge her. The subtle blues and grays of this zone combined with plush carpeting had a calming effect after the manic movements and noises of the hangar bays.
Five women operated the counter, and other people sat in readiness for appointments. Each receptionist, carefully groomed with perfect hair and uniforms, served a section of the reception area. Well-manicured too, Kera noted. She thought the dark-haired woman might be the oldest of the staffers, not that she’d call any of them anything other than young adults. Reading the woman’s nametag Lieutenant Pamilla Trillo, Kera guessed her age at maybe mid-twenties. Her rich chestnut hair, neatly tied up behind her head, showed the long line of her throat, and her regulation uniform plastered itself against her trim form. Trillo tapped her fingers against the desktop as if Kera was wasting her time.
“Commander Aarens, reporting to Admiral Elphin.”
“Ah, yes. The admiral is expecting you.” Trillo pointed to a long hallway leading left. “Follow the corridor to the room at the end and present your credentials at the office.”
The woman turned away in dismissal. Kera didn’t like the objectionable manner of the younger woman but had to accept she had been dealt with both swiftly and efficiently. Pivoting, Kera made her way down the corridor, noting the wood panels and discreet nametags adorning them. From beyond some of the doors, she detected muted voices.
Her long legs ate up the distance, moving over the deep carpeting, which silenced her footsteps, until she stood in front of the door at the end of the hallway. Nerves skittered through her stomach like a hive of bees. She knew he would ask about her health, the mission, and what had occurred on the Alpha Star Colony, if not now, then soon. She hoped the questions came later, when she was able to talk of the experience without emotion.
Laying a hand on her stomach, she drew in a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. The ache inside her chest didn’t settle though. Instead it grew as she fought against the fates which kept putting her in his path. Get it over and done with, she told herself. Kera placed her hand on the scanner, and once the light flashed green she entered the room.
The door shut behind her, and she quickly took in the office, adorned with real wood furniture, more deep carpeting, and quiet, piped-in music. Two women looked up at her from the desk, a question in their eyes. The blonde, tall and rail thin, smiled, a brittle veneer of interest overlaid...with what? Kera couldn’t make sense of the waves of negative emotions emanating from the other, red-haired woman, not when her own were so churned up. So she pushed it aside to consider later.
“Can I help you?” The blonde’s voice, perfectly modulated and educated, grated on Kera’s ears.
“Commander Aarens. I was told to report to the admiral.”
She waited while the other woman, dark-haired and younger, clicked on a button and spoke so quietly it could almost be a silent communion. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at Kera, then swiveled away.
“Yes, sir. We’ll send her straight in.” She spun her seat back to face Kera. “The admiral will see you now.” She pointed toward a wall retracting to reveal an office.
There he was, sitting behind an imposing desk, looking older and more careworn than she had ever seen him before. She stepped forward into the room and heard the panel slide shut behind her.
“Kera! Thank the stars you’re safe.” He stood, but she remained by the door.
He stopped, obviously sensing her cool and uncertain response. The smile faded from his lips. It hurt to see his eyes lose the sparkle and become flat blue orbs, but she needed to remember all the other times he could have taken a chance on a relationship instead of cutting her off.
Kera dropped the duffel to the floor. “Permission to sit?” She kept her tone level and professional. He was the senior officer, after all, and she needed to hold on to that thought.
Gustav nodded, and she moved toward the seating. His gaze followed her as she moved, and she wanted to reach out to him and wipe away the traces of stress on his face. Instead, she curled her fingers into a fist, welcoming the small twinge of pain where her fingernails bit into the palm of her hand. This was business. Nothing more and nothing less was imaginable from her behavior.
* * * *
The air around Kera, wound tight and brittle, betrayed her current state of mind as much as the sight of her body. She was more slender than before, with hollows at her cheeks, and while not gaunt, what was missing was the softening of her features. Her eyes carried a distance and chill Gustav had never seen on Kera. The green depths froze him out. He couldn’t detect any long-term signs of damage from the torture she had experienced. But he itched t
o strip the clothes off her to check, needing to be sure she’d healed. The impulse shook him to the core.
Duvall McCord had kept him apprised of her physical condition while she recuperated on the Elector. However, once she’d recovered enough to board the freighter, there had been total silence. He didn’t like that. But he was an admiral with a role to fulfill.
How well I understand the restraints of my position, he thought sourly. It kept him from acting on the emotions clawing at him all the time, especially the one telling him Kera was his woman. Instead, he observed radio silence and stewed. His staff had been confused by his slightly irrational behavior during the last months.
Now she was here, vital and alive. He ached to touch the soft, satiny skin of her face. He cleared his throat instead of acting on his desires. “Good to have you back, Commander. How are you feeling?”
He winced at the question, thinking soberly that while she seemed fit enough, dark shadows remained in her eyes. Her beautiful, rich brown hair was tied up in the severe bun she always favored on duty. Her flawless skin was paler than usual. He didn’t need to see evidence of the bruising, having already received and reviewed the holographic images Duvall had sent him. Her condition when Raven and Jemma had found her enraged him even now.
“I’m fine, Admiral. The SurgiTech aboard the Elector cleared me to take a leave period. However, I believe I’m well enough to report for duty.” Her eyes glinted, and for an instant, he wondered if she meant to disagree with her placement here.
He knew she would argue the medical leave, but he could stonewall until a satisfactory evaluation arrived showing she’d recovered enough to resume duty. He needed her fully recovered before she took over the grueling position she’d accepted.
She had such a fiery temperament. But the one particular hot-blooded trait that had drawn him to her over time seemed muted. The vitality she normally exuded warmed him, and he craved her heat, even now, after all these years. He wanted to see that temper flare within her again.