Piras gave him a sympathetic look. “I know Engineering is already at the limit. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to delay the attack on Haven’s defenses for very long. Even if I have General Nath on my side to slow up Copeland, Maf isn’t going to be amenable to delay. Sitrel made that clear. I need you to get started on the phase devices for placement on the battlecruisers as soon as possible. Like, yesterday.”
In the past, Lokmi would have reacted aggressively to Piras’s authority, even though the admiral had every right to make such demands. The chief engineer could feel the old hostility of his position being undermined. The need to argue or pick a fight over it rose in a white-hot surge.
Instead, he took a page from Piras’s playbook. He sat quietly for a few moments, considering what he was up against. His team had finished figuring out the parameters for the Earther ships. He had the configurations he needed to execute the required phase fields. It was now a matter of constructing the devices with the new specifications.
Lokmi decided he could divert a few of his personnel to start working on the project. It would slow everything else up, but he wanted Piras to know he was willing to compromise.
He blew out a breath, the sole indication of annoyance he allowed himself to show. “What I wouldn’t give for an extra month or twenty more men. I can get started on the work, Admiral, but it will put us behind on the shuttles’ ability to phase.”
Before Piras could castigate or praise him for the answer, Mostar spoke up. “Chief Engineer, I and some of my men in security are competent mechanics. The fighter pilots and maintenance crews are knowledgeable in those fields as well. What if I assign them to assist your team?”
Lokmi tried to contain his delight at the proposition. Mostar might regret the offer if he was greeted with giddy relief. “Will they accept my men as the leaders of the effort? I don’t need cranky warriors putting my best engineers in Dr. Yel’s care. Especially if they think they know more about our machinery, like some Nobeks on this ship.”
Lokmi knew better than to tease Kila at a formal meeting, but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t dare glance at the captain, knowing the man’s ever-present smirk had gone deadly.
Mostar, who always looked suspicious whether dealing with his job or eating a meal, didn’t react at all. His tone was bland as he said, “I will order my men to do as they’re told, and they will comply.”
His assurance not only decided Lokmi, but it gave the Imdiko another idea as well. “You know, if they can assemble the phase devices, they can install them too. It will help us move faster still.”
Mostar regarded him for all of a second, then dipped his head. “I will assign my best to the effort, Chief Engineer.”
Piras rarely awarded outright praise, and this was no exception. His acceptance told Lokmi he was pleased with the plan. He went straight to the next matter at hand. “Now that this vessel is part of the command web of Maf’s ships, I can get into the mainframe and steal the codes for the other destroyers. That will be my task in the days ahead.”
Kila didn’t mind showing open admiration. “Can you take them all out?”
“There are too many safeguards for me to get away with such a ruse. Like Lokmi, I’m in a race against time. I will load groups of subcommands to the fleet which can be hidden until the time is right.”
Mostar’s brow rose. “With all the safeguards inherent in the weapons systems of these ships? With respect, Admiral, taking one ship offline would take hours, if not days.”
“Which is why I won’t try to take them offline. I’ll program their targets for them instead. I’ll loaded the commands in pieces via separate diagnostic tests during each destroyer’s maintenance schedule.”
Mostar stared at Piras. His expression never wavered, but Lokmi detected a surge of respect from the weapons commander. “Not even the computer firewalls would pick up on what you’re planning. If a weapons commander thought to search for illicit codes in diagnostics, he’d never see something like that.”
Kila smirked. “Now you see why he’s an admiral.”
Piras was back to pacing. “As to the rebel Earthers. There are too few for them to carry out an uprising, especially since all but one ‘cruiser has numerous Kalquorians crewing them now. They’re already planning a campaign of sabotage, which could knock out the effectiveness of the unphased cruisers.”
“It’s a small advantage, but I’ll take anything,” Kila said.
“It means revealing the true nature of our mission to General Nath.”
“I want in on it.”
Piras nodded. “I planned for you to go with me. You too, Chief.”
Lokmi started. Angst flared bright again, but he managed to be respectful. “Really, Admiral? With the time crunch we’re under, I thought you’d want me to concentrate on the phase devices.”
The corners of Piras’s mouth twitched, as if he could sense Lokmi’s knee-jerk struggle against being ordered around. “I need you along for several reasons. You’ve studied the battlecruiser specs. You can advise General Nath where his operatives need to concentrate their disruption efforts. I also need an Imdiko along.”
Lokmi started to scowl and made himself stop. Piras had never discounted his Dramok instincts because of Lokmi’s official designation. If he said he needed an Imdiko, he wasn’t asking him to kowtow.
He said, “I’m intrigued you think a caregiver temperament would be essential.”
“Your Imdiko side is far more empathetic than what Kila and I can offer. Nath is a man concerned over two daughters, along with the rest of his people.”
Kila took the opportunity to pay Lokmi back for his earlier disparaging comment. “You said you wanted to see a pretty Earther girl, Chief. Here’s your big chance to be in the presence of one who would otherwise ignore you.”
Piras added to the insult by grinning at Lokmi’s embarrassment in front of the other officers. The bastard had to know Lokmi was dying to say something belittling.
Lokmi bit his lips together to avoid doing so. He’d show them both. See? I can be a good little follower sometimes.
Kila looked disappointed to not get a rise out of him. “You might be interested to know Matara Hope is something of a mechanical genius herself. Her specialty seems to be miniaturized surveillance. If she can see past your many failings, I think you’d get along quite well.”
She was a mechanic? Lokmi was suddenly too excited to take umbrage at Kila’s provocations. He grinned at his commanding officer, not caring he’d have to put in extra hours later to make up for his absence. “When do we go?”
* * * *
Hope eyed Charity as her freshly showered sister came into the sitting area. With her dark brown hair slicked back, revealing the entirety of her face, it struck Hope how pretty her younger sibling was. How much she resembled their late mother. The loose blouse and skirt Charity wore did little to disguise her youthful but already lush figure. Concern filled Hope.
Charity’s brow lifted as she noted the examination. Misinterpreting Hope’s worries, she said, “Stop it. The smell will clear out soon.”
Most of the stench of the substance Charity had spilled on herself had dissipated. Hope had to give her sister credit. The combination of old fermented juice and rotting food scraps had been rank beyond belief. Charity had never mentioned she kept the concoction in a sealed bag in the carryall she used for her class supplies. Hope felt a pang of misery, and not because of the little bit of lingering odor. Charity had realized she might need something besides the good will and decency of men to ward off their inappropriate attentions. Her loss of innocence hurt Hope deep in her soul.
Hope said, “I’m not worried about the smell. How did you explain having that nasty mixture with you?”
“I told Sister Miriam it was a recipe for keeping acne at bay. I pretended I was dabbing it on a red spot when I ‘accidentally’ spilled it all over myself. It was so disgusting, she kept her speech about vanity to a minimum. It did its job beyond maki
ng her shut her mouth for a change. The Holy Leader maintained a respectful distance.” Charity laughed heartily at her ruse as she sat down in the chair across from Hope.
Hope would have liked to join her merriment. It was a good trick, one Charity had every right to look so smug about. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find any humor in the situation. “It didn’t keep him from giving you gifts.”
Charity stopped laughing. The two of them stared at the items on the table between them: a lovely silk dress, a jeweled necklace, a leather-bound bible, and a framed portrait of Copeland.
The tokens of esteem appeared diseased to Hope. She wanted to send the lot out of an airlock.
“He didn’t give any of the other girls presents. I’m wearing a bullseye to be his next wife, aren’t I?” Charity’s dark eyes filled with tears.
Hope hurried around the table. Charity’s recent growth spurt had made it almost impossible for both of them to fit in the overstuffed chair, but they managed. Hope held her baby sister, who was blatantly no longer a baby and two inches taller than her.
She wasn’t a grown woman though, not where it counted. Charity was not ready to be the wife to anyone, least of all a monster like Copeland. She’d never be ready for that.
Hope whispered, “We’ll figure something out. You’re not marrying him.”
Charity’s grip around her slight waist tightened. “No? You and Dad don’t have your schemes far enough along to stop him. I can tell, even if you don’t ever share anything with me.”
“We’ll keep you safe.” Hope’s tone was firm with conviction. They’d find a way. They had to.
“You’ll get yourselves executed as sinners and traitors, and I’ll end up with Copeland anyway. You can’t protect me, and I don’t want you to. Not if it gets you killed.”
The misery in her voice wasn’t teenage angst. It was true bleak despair. Hope searched for something to say to take the awful note out of Charity’s tone, but there was nothing.
Unless they got past Copeland’s guards and killed him outright, her not-so-little sister was right. Hope would die to save Charity. So would their dad. But in the end, it wouldn’t matter.
If Copeland decided to marry Charity, they didn’t have more than the slightest chance to stop him.
Chapter 8
Dinner in the Nath quarters that night was a sober affair. No one ate much, and it wasn’t due to the waft of stench which remained following Charity’s stunt. The Naths didn’t have much to say, either.
Hope’s father contributed one telling bit of conversation to the evening. “I’m no longer allowed to bring any weapons into the Holy Leader’s presence,” he said as he listlessly stirred his half-eaten stew.
Neither daughter commented on the obvious reasons why Copeland would give such an order. Even that narcissistic bastard knew the trouble he was asking for with his interest in Charity.
It wasn’t long afterward when Hope told her father and sister goodnight and went to her room. She got ready for bed and sat down at the computer.
She consulted her surveillance footage. Copeland had not been in his official rooms that day except for a morning consultation with her dad. She saw nothing new to be gleaned there.
She got up and settled in bed with her lap work surface. Trying to set her worries for Charity aside, Hope mused over her tiny bugs. The miniature surveillance devices, little more than tiny black dots, were ready to go. They were bug-like, all right. They made Hope think of the ticks back on Earth which infested the woods in the summer.
Her little bugs were made to adhere to skin. They would easily be missed under thick hair, such as the mane on Copeland. They’d be even more invisible on a raven-haired Kalquorian. The trick was to get the things in place. Even before the abrupt weapons ban, her father was never allowed to put his hands on Browning Copeland, who kept his personal guards close. It would no doubt be as hard to get them on the leader of the Kalquorian attack fleet.
I suppose it would be obvious if Dad started playing with Admiral Piras’s hair, Hope thought. The thought was her first real humorous one since Charity’s ‘mishap’ in class. She snickered, then imagined playing with the Kalquorian’s hair herself. She stopped when the thoughts began to take a far more lascivious turn—as they always did when she fantasized about Piras or Kila.
Back to work. What was it she’d been thinking about? “Oh yeah. Planting these things.”
Too bad she didn’t have access to the micro-mechanics which would have allowed the bugs to crawl on their own. With the tiny robotic legs used on surgical nanites, Hope could have made it happen. Programming the miniscule computer board to be attracted to body heat and seek out the highest point on a person would have been no problem. All that would have been required would be to set the things loose in the subject’s immediate vicinity.
Her father could figure out how to get the bugs on their intended recipients. Hope was sure of it. But planting the bugs was fraught with danger, and no mistakes could be made. Especially not when it came to Admiral Piras. He looked like he didn’t miss much.
I wish I could get some vid surveillance on him, and for all the wrong reasons. He’d be fun to watch, even without the sound.
Hope sighed at her frivolous turn of mind. She wished she could stop thinking like a nymphomaniac when it came to Piras. Ditto for Captain Kila. Wow, what a couple they were. One almost pretty, the other a handsome brute. They were an unmatched pair, but she’d take them anyway.
Boy, would she like to take them.
Hope was so intent on visualizing Piras and Kila that she didn’t react immediately when they materialized in her room. It was the third Kalquorian standing with them who made her register that actual, living men stood there staring at her. Even with the mystery Kalquorian added to the set, Hope blinked at them a full two seconds before it occurred to her they were right there, standing next to her bed, in the flesh.
As a flash of shock shot through her body, her mouth dropped open to scream. Kila leaned over and clamped his hand over it. At the same time, Piras stooped down so he was eye level with her. He spoke quickly. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re spies loyal to the Empire. We want to help you and your father stop Copeland.”
She stared at him, absorbing the words. Spies? Against the Holy Leader?
Kila added, “I’m going to let you go, and we’ll bring your father into the conversation. We have information which will help him in his revolt against Copeland. Can we trust you to not scream, Hope?”
He knew her name. She couldn’t imagine why that was her first lucid thought. At least I’m not panicking, she thought. Then she noticed how hard and fast her heart drummed. Her body knew to freak out, but her mind was slow on the draw.
Could she trust them? Did she have a choice? Dear prophets, there were three alien men in her bedroom, and she was in her bed, wearing a nightgown. A nightgown which covered her from throat to foot, but a nightgown just the same. It was enough to make her feel vulnerable.
She’d damned sure better pray she could trust them because they’d done the impossible. She’d watched them appear out of thin air.
Her disjointed mind seized on that item. Before her very eyes, Kalquorians had shown up. Exhilarated excitement vied against fear.
Hope nodded, her gaze rolling up to the rugged, bearded face over hers. As soon as Kila released her, she said, “Where the hell did you come from? How did you materialize? Even cloaking technology can’t make people entirely invisible.”
“No, but phasing technology is another matter.” Piras chuckled. He must have been amused she’d focused on the mystery rather than being terrified.
Hope didn’t care. She was too excited, her mechanically-adept mind seizing on the import of what he’d revealed. “Phasing! Of course. So you can walk through solid objects as well. But what about the issue of falling through flooring or other supportive surfaces? How do you balance the ability to pass through walls and maintain that integrity?”
The unid
entified third man, a handsome hunk who struck the perfect balance between his elegant and brutish companions, sat on the edge of her bed. His tone was as animated as hers. “It’s all to do with resonance frequencies and the scattering of energy. See, when the rate of recurrence is applied to a living being, there’s a—”
“Chief, we don’t have time,” Kila interrupted. Like Piras, he seemed amused. His grin still had the smirking quality Hope had noted before, but he didn’t act mean.
“Oh. Of course. Sorry, Captain.” The unknown man beamed at Hope. “I’m Chief Engineer Lokmi. I’ve been looking forward to talking to you after Captain Kila showed me the files detailing your mini bugs.”
Stunned that the Nobek had done such a thing, Hope gave Kila a shove, as if the muscled beast couldn’t break her in half without real effort. How dare he! “You stole my files? You jerk!”
His grin got bigger. “Yes, I made copies of a few of your specifications, along with other things. We had to be sure of you and the general before approaching you about joining forces.”
They had forces? Hope’s elation grew to hear of a plot against Copeland. “How many of your ships are involved?”
“Just mine, but it’s the whole crew.”
Piras added, “We are here to infiltrate Maf’s fleet and undermine it as much as possible. To take as much of it out of the fight as we can.”
“This is a fraction of the Basma’s force,” Hope said, her delight draining away. “You brought only one ship against a whole armada?”
“Unfortunately. But we’re damned good at what we do.” Piras sighed. “I’d hoped to be in the thick of things, in the midst of the main enemy fleet, in all honesty. This was not what Fleet Command had in mind when they sent us out here.”
“Plans must change,” Kila told him. He turned his somehow inoffensive sneer back to Hope. “What about your resources? I couldn’t get a real handle on how many are in your resistance effort.”
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