Lokmi chuckled. “Are you going to ask him to bring us into the fold?”
“Of course. But probably not the way he’s hoping.”
Lokmi heard the growl in Piras’s voice. Sitrel being a petty dick was one of those instances where the admiral would let his infamous temper fly. Lokmi took advantage of the distraction, speaking as if his request to investigate had been approved. “I wish I wasn’t stuck with poking around his ship’s engineering department. I love watching you in action.”
Piras rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know I’m an asshole to those who deserve it. Quite frankly, I don’t care who hears about it, so long as they learn to keep their stupidity to themselves.”
Lokmi grinned, partly in agreement and partly because Piras hadn’t refused his oblique assertion he’d be going to the destroyer too.
Chapter 6
Charity was in the sitting room, draped over a chair as Hope and their father settled in at the dinette table. She was within earshot of their conversation. At their worried gazes, she pointedly plugged audio monitors into her ears. “I’m blasting Beethoven. Plot the end of all existence to your black hearts’ content,” she told them in a loud voice before closing her eyes to shut them out.
“Did she get all the sarcasm from you or Mom?” Hope asked. “Because I don’t recall either of you being so incredibly afflicted with it.”
Borey smiled tiredly. “I think I’ll pin it on your Uncle George. That means she gets it from Mom’s side. Don’t you remember his smart mouth?”
“Come to think of it, I do. I wonder if he and Aunt Ruth got away after Armageddon.” Hope felt a tug of nostalgia to think of missing family.
“Living out in the country must have spared them from the explosions. I hope they escaped afterward.” His expression turned sad, the way it always did when his thoughts turned to the loss of so many loved ones.
Hope got down to business, wanting to chase away the attitude which made him age before her eyes. “Our contact on the Walls of Jericho reports two more crewmembers have joined the resistance. They now have enough people on that battlecruiser to enact massive sabotage, if needed.”
“Remind me of the Kalquorian complement on the Jericho?”
“They make up a quarter of her numbers, but barely half of them are trained as crew. The rest are used to man the fighters.”
“It’s still a lot of Kalqs. Fortunately, Jericho’s captain is with us. Did he bother to report how he’s managing with them?”
“No news is good news.” Hating herself for asking but unable to deny the urge, Hope said, “Speaking of Kalquorians, how was your meeting with the admiral?”
“Interesting. Piras is a smart one. A hell of a commanding officer, from what I can tell.”
Hope heard the grudging respect in his voice. She could well understand it. As fascinated as she’d been with Piras the day before, the interest had more than doubled after their encounter today. The feeling was not welcome at all. Physical attraction was one thing, even fantasy was okay, but Piras’s growing level of allure was pissing Hope off. The recurring image of jumping on top of the man made her feel warm all over. Fortunately, the man who’d been with him on the latest visit hadn’t been nearly as compelling as Captain Kila. It would be awful to desire to throw herself at two Kalquorians.
“You don’t like the admiral,” Hope opined. She wanted the inside scoop which would make her despise the man. She searched for anything to stop his unknowing insistence on charming her.
Borey huffed in dismay. “Actually, I can’t help respecting him. I found myself wishing I could work with Piras on the same side. He’s a hell of an officer.”
“You supposedly are working with him,” Hope pointed out.
“For now, because I have no choice. And at definite cross-purposes to what I really want.”
Hope ventured to share her own experiences. “I keep running into him in the corridors. Literally.” She told her father how she’d not been paying attention and walked smack into the alien admiral the day before. “For all his derision, he doesn’t seem as awful as some of the Kalqs. I swear he made a joke when I came across him today.”
“He doesn’t automatically sneer at us Earthers like most of them fighting for Maf. I wonder what made him turn on his empire and follow that maniac?”
“Probably the same nonsense reasons which keep so many following a monster like Copeland. Bigotry. Fear of the other species. Fear, period.” Hope was glad he was as curious about Piras as she was. Though she shouldn’t be. Her interest was not as pure as her father’s.
It was not good she found the Kalquorian admiral so appealing. He was the enemy, after all. She wished she could stop wondering about him.
She did have one negative trait to think about where the stunning alien was concerned. “If he’s as formidable a soldier as you think, I hope he won’t be someone else we have to actively fight along with Copeland.”
Borey’s expression turned grave. “That makes two of us.”
* * * *
Standing phased next to the dinette table and benches, Kila stared at Hope and Borey with growing excitement. The Earthers’ highest-ranking military officer was against the Holy Leader? There was a resistance movement against Copeland? Which begged even more questions. Questions such as, how many Earthers did Nath have on his side? How close were they to overthrowing Copeland’s leadership?
“We were right to admire you,” he said to General Nath, who rose and stretched. Unfortunately, the conversation seemed to be at an end. Hope also got up. After a hug for her father, she headed for the sitting area. She dealt her sister a playful punch on the shoulder, which set off loud mock hysterics. Charity shouted dramatically about being abused. Hope chuckled and went into another room. The door shut behind her.
Nath settled into a chair, and Charity pulled tiny audio monitors from her ears. With a smirk that Kila thought rivaled his own, the girl asked, “Are you finished righting the wrongs of the universe?”
“If only it were true. Do you have class tomorrow?” Nath yawned.
Charity’s face stretched in an answering yawn. Kila thought her physically prettier, though not half as compelling as her older sister. Especially with her mouth gaping wide. “Sadly, tragically, yes. More transcribing his Holiness’s new revelations. I’d rather be working with you and Hope and chancing the danger of espionage rather than suffer through that.”
“Give your old man a break, okay? I need to keep one of you safe.”
Kila snickered. He thought the general must have his hands full with the sarcastic, sneering girl-woman. Somehow he suspected Charity might be more responsible than the Holy Leader for the silver threads weaving their way through Nath’s jet-black hair.
“I do not envy you this child,” he told the weary Earther. “With her bent on proving she’s worthy of adult independence, each day must be a war in your own home.”
Not to mention Charity was blatantly well on her way to achieving physical maturity. Kila tried to imagine having a daughter who looked like her, and the stares men would be sending her way—especially those who didn’t immediately recognize her inappropriate youth. Worse still, there might be those few foul creatures who didn’t care about her age. He shook his head. Kila suspected he’d be up on murder charges in short order if he were to find himself in Nath’s place.
“My deepest sympathies, General. Keep your blaster charged. You’re going to need it.”
Kila’s focus turned to the other daughter. The one who was a real woman, and a worthwhile one at that. He stared at the door Hope had gone through, admiration stirring in his heart. Hope was apparently in as deep as the general when it came to working against Copeland. She was far from cowed by her circumstances as so many of the other women still suffering under the Holy Leader’s rule. She displayed a spirited strength Kila admired. Watching her encounter with Piras earlier that day had told him this was a woman not to be taken lightly.
“Matara,” he whispered, his v
oice filled with veneration. She might not be big, she might not be physically strong, but he knew a warrior when he met one. Her soul was that of the upright fighter.
Since Nath was not likely to share any further information in the presence of the younger daughter, Kila decided he’d check on Hope. Perhaps she’d do more clandestine work from her private quarters. It would be a real boon if he found her going through files yielding the numbers of resistance forces or major players.
Daring to wish he might be so lucky, Kila left the sitting room. He walked through Hope’s door with little notice of the slight dragging sensation he always felt when moving through solid objects.
He stopped stock still to see Hope, not working on a computer, but standing in the middle of what was apparently her sleeping room. She was naked.
Taken by surprise, all the air left his lungs in an explosive blast. Kila spent a long moment gazing at the young woman. Her neck was long and slender, her shoulders curved splendidly like upside-down cups, shaped just right to fit in his palms. Her breasts were small like the rest of her, the tips brown and perfectly round. The thought they would fit in his hands even better than her shoulders brought a surge of heat to his groin. His fingers twitched as he imagined stroking the triangle of glossy black curls demurely hiding her most intimate treasure.
Somehow, her legs gave him the most pause. Perhaps she was built slight enough that in clothes she resembled a boy, but out of the brown uniform pants, her legs were shaped better than any woman’s he’d ever seen. Smooth, slender, with lithe curved muscles. The image of those incredible legs wrapped around his ass as he plunged deep into her warmth made Kila’s knees weaken for an instant. A wallop of real passion filled his cocks, making him hard. His shafts throbbed, pointing straight at what he desired.
Sudden, blatant arousal made Kila realize what he was doing: ogling a woman without her knowledge or permission. Some men might have been all right with it, but Kila was not. In his mind, it was an unforgiveable violation.
He turned his back, furious with himself. “Apologies, Matara,” he muttered. It didn’t matter she had no idea he was there. She was owed his regrets.
What his conscience called regret was not shared by his body or mind. He cursed his lack of control as his imagination kept bringing him the clandestine view he’d had. Over and over, his rebellious brain retraced Hope’s compact but fascinating figure. It imagined how good she’d feel under him—or even on top.
Ancestors help him against such a woman as Hope Nath. It wasn’t enough that she was brave and intelligent, which would be sufficient to attract him in any case. She was damned alluring as well. If he ever met her face to face again, he worried he’d be far more flirtatious than Piras had dared.
Kila was about to give up on of making his mind behave itself, necessitating a retreat from Hope’s sleeping room, when she walked right through him. He grunted from more surprise than discomfort, though it was damned bizarre to see someone else’s body emerge from his. He breathed a relieved sigh to see Hope fully clad in matching soft blue top and bottoms, masking her from his gaze. The clothing was loose enough to hide all hints of what he’d found so intensely exciting. Yet his body assured him it was in no hurry to calm, even with her clothed.
He made himself pay attention to what she did. She held a tray with various compartments and a flat work surface between her hands. Kila noted the small mechanical pieces and a large magnifying glass attached to it. Hope climbed into the bed. After pulling the covers up to her waist, she settled the tray on her lap. She adjusted the arm of the glass so it enlarged the miniscule pieces she set on the work surface.
Fascinated and sternly forbidding himself to think too much about the woman being in bed—and how good it would feel for his weight to press her into the mattress—Kila drew close. He strained to angle his head so he could see the almost microscopic components of the device she worked on. “What have you there, little lovely? It looks like a miniature microphone there…sensor board…transmitter…all so tiny! I think you’re making a bugging device. I’ve never seen one that small. A sensor sweep would still find it, I should think. Something so small and well hidden, however, might make security think they’re getting a false reading. Maybe you’d get away with it.”
He leaned back and watched at her face, filling anew with respect. She had an irate expression again, which Kila had figured out was simply the way she appeared when she was concentrating. He longed to reach over and smooth his thumb over the crease between her brows.
He had to settle for a compliment she couldn’t even hear. “You are a wonder, Matara Hope. An absolute wonder.”
Kila found it impossible to move from her side. Astonishment kept him next to her until she put her work away and settled down for sleep. Even when her eyes closed and breath deepened, it took all the strength he could muster to leave.
* * * *
A new day brought new issues for Piras. He was irritable to have heard nothing further from Kila. Then Lokmi pestered him until Piras agreed to let the chief engineer phase and journey to Sitrel’s destroyer in order to examine its engines. Knowing his intended Imdiko was on board an enemy vessel, poking in a place he had no business being in, was enough to set the Dramok’s teeth on edge. It didn’t matter that Mostar had agreed to phase and guard Lokmi. Bad things could happen even with the best warrior on hand.
Plus Piras had to deal with Sitrel himself. That alone put him in a temper.
He’d no sooner entered the office Sitrel had set up for himself when he snapped in a loud voice, “What the fuck is your problem with me, Dramok?”
Sitrel sat on a hover chair behind the fine desk unit he’d claimed, a still vid of himself and Maf hanging from the wall behind him. He recoiled in at Piras’s furious demand, his eyes widening in concern. “What are you talking about?”
“As if you don’t know!” Piras planted his fists on the desk surface and leaned toward the other man. “Captain Kila’s ship is still not tied into our groups’ systems. I am not able to access pertinent information on my attack fleet. I need to be receiving daily reports from my captains to make plans for the battle against Haven and Rokan. I should be gathering accurate statistics on the readiness of our vessels. Am I in charge of this force or not? If so, when the fuck are you going to give me those system codes? Or can’t you handle such a small task?”
Sitrel eyed him with loathing, but he hunched deeper into his seat. Piras knew he wouldn’t challenge him, not openly. Sitrel cared too much for his pathetic hide. Piras had already proven to Maf’s lackey that his legendary temper was no myth, and he was assured his demands would be met.
Not that he had to have the codes, not directly from Sitrel anyway. Piras was good enough at infiltrating computers and systems to get what he needed himself. It was how he remained clandestinely informed of all the Imperial fleet was doing, including much of the vessel movements and strategies which were top secret. He could break into this arm of Maf’s force on his own as well, without any problems.
However, it would take more time to do it that way than Piras wanted to expend. Maf was already in a tizzy for them to attack Haven and Rokan. Piras wouldn’t be able to hold the bastard off for long, no matter how unprepared the ships were.
More importantly, Sitrel was playing games, trying to control what should have been given to Piras already. It would seem strange if the admiral didn’t call him on it.
That matter rankled. It put Piras on edge. Was it possible Sitrel and Maf didn’t trust Piras, and that was why his access to the attack fleet was being blocked? They might even suspect he was a double agent. If so, it put Kila’s entire crew in danger.
Piras eyed Sitrel with all those issues in mind, issues putting him close to a seething rage. Anger was so much better than fear. The admiral indulged himself in fury when it came down between the two.
Perhaps recognizing how readily Piras could go from yelling to punching, Sitrel went on the defensive. “Of course Captain Kila�
�s ship should be part of our integrated system. I had planned to resolve the matter right away. You only reminded me it had been overlooked yesterday, if you recall.”
“Then it should have been fixed yesterday,” Piras snarled. “I also reminded you of the matter the day before.”
“I don’t recall it.”
“I do.” Piras’s tone made it clear whose opinion mattered most. “My needs are immediate. They are not to be fit in at your convenience. You are merely a mouthpiece, Sitrel. I suggest you remember that and let the leader of this fight do his job.”
Sitrel’s lip curled for an instant, but he didn’t dare confront Piras, who was now steadily growling at him. He turned to his aide, who stared at the admiral with wide-eyed amazement. Sitrel shouted, “Are you deaf? You heard what he wants. Transmit the system access codes to Captain Kila’s ship immediately.”
“Yes, Dramok.” The man barely took the time to bow before rushing out.
“Better?” Sitrel grumbled.
Piras allowed himself one last derisive glower before ceasing to snarl and dropping into the chair behind him. It creaked under his weight. “It’s a start.” He nodded to the sound blocker next to Sitrel’s computer. The other man slapped it on. As the frequency-cancelling hum filled the room, Piras got down to more unpleasant business. “Now that we can talk privately, I need the truth, Dramok. The whole truth.”
Sitrel’s gaze narrowed. “About?”
“This mission. Rokan Colony first. Attacking it, along with Haven, was supposed to be a diversion to get Maf access to the Bi’isil border. Which, thanks to me, he was successful in gaining.”
“Yes, congratulations.” Sitrel spat. He was not about to let go of his pique.
“Take your sarcasm and shove it up your ass.” Without waiting for the other Dramok to register any affront to the suggestion, Piras pushed on. “Shut your hole about stupid shit and give me the facts I need, or you’ll have the pleasure of chewing on my boot. I want to know why we are expending our desperately needed resources on an attempt to win a negligible mining colony?”
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