by Mina Carter
“No,” Daaynal shook his head. “I don’t want to have to make it an imperial command. I want your vow before the goddess herself that you will keep them safe and away from harm. I want you to choose that path, not be ordered to take it.”
“I can make no vow above my service to the goddess,” Nyek answered automatically.
Silence stretched out in the conference room, and Nyek discovered the emperor had a gaze that could rival a liiraas for its intensity. Sweat beaded and slid down his spine.
“Besides, you would ask a traditionalist,” deliberately he avoided the word purist. That might be his father’s path but it did not, and never would, describe him. “To protect non-Lathar females? Females you intend to become mates for our warriors and dilute our bloodlines?”
“Yes.” The answer was short. Firm. Uncompromising. “Which is why I want your oath...” Daaynal’s gaze flickered down to the patterns inscribed on Nyek’s leathers. “Not as an imperial warrior but as a paladin of Liaanas that you will protect those females because, after all, does not the lady goddess hold all females in reverence?”
Nyek opened his mouth but no sound emerged. Then... “With all due respect, your Imperial Majesty, but you are an utter bastard.”
The sound of Daaynal’s laughter filled the room, making Danaar frown as the doors slid open to admit him. His dark gaze flicked between the emperor’s hologram and Nyek.
“What did I miss?” he growled, glaring at Nyek and obviously assuming he’d offered the emperor some insult that he would potentially have to pay for.
“Not much, just me finding out that this supposed runt of the litter has a backbone of steel and balls to rival a human’s,” Daaynal chuckled, his face filled with amusement. “And I was about to get his oath as a paladin that he will protect the human women aboard your vessel. With his life, if need be.”
Danaar’s eyebrows shot up so fast it was a surprise they didn’t fly off the top of his head as he turned to look at Nyek. “Is this true?”
“Indeed, War Commander,” Nyek confirmed, still unsure exactly how the emperor had managed to gain his agreement.
He didn’t recall saying any such thing. It was like the male could read his mind. But there were rumors about the K’Saan... that they were descended from a lost line of mystics that had once held arcane secrets.
“I give you my vow as a paladin of the lady herself. I will ensure with my last breath that no harm comes to the females aboard this vessel, even if I have to give my life to do so.”
“Thank you, your oath is witnessed.” Daaynal bowed formally. When he straightened up, his expression was serious and forbidding. “Now we have that little bit of business out of the way. I have a mission for you.”
He gestured for them to sit. Nyek and Danaar sat either side of the hologram as he took the seat at the head of the table. Neither spoke as the Emperor moved his hands, activating the holodisplay built into the table. An image of the system the Izal’vias was in filled the air above it.
“In their ongoing research into the plague that killed all our females and crippled our species, the healer’s hall have managed to isolate a particular strand of DNA we are missing—one that leaves our genetic code vulnerable to the plague’s infection mechanism...”
Nyek started in surprise. While he knew the healers were researching possible cures for the plague, he wasn’t aware they were quite so far along in their research. A quick glance at Danaar’s face revealed a lack of surprise, which meant the big war commander had known about the discovery... Another example of information only available to those in Daaynal’s inner circles.
But... genetic therapy. Tension crept up his back, his shoulders tense.
“This is... wonderful news,” he said haltingly. Not everyone viewed genetic alteration as against the lady’s will. And if this genetic information had been part of the Latharian code originally, surely there was no sin to put it back?
His gaze flicked between the other two males. “Why has the rest of the empire not been informed? There should be celebrations and offerings made to the gods for such good fortune.”
“It is wonderful news indeed,” Daaynal said, holding up his hand. “However, this information is highly classified at the moment. While we know this genetic code exists and was removed from ours many generations ago, we do not currently know how to reintegrate it.”
“Oh...”
He hadn’t considered that. He’d been brought up to believe the healers were despotic and godlike, snipping and chopping to recreate the Lathar into whatever image they required until they’d brought the apocalypse itself down. The idea that they wouldn’t be able to reintegrate something they’d removed seemed absurd.
“But you’ve found something?” Danaar prompted, his eyes alight with curiosity and intelligence.
Nyek had wanted to dismiss him as a brutish warrior, who’d only gained his place as war commander through brawn and having the right bloodline... but it appeared there was more to him than met the eye. He would have to tread very carefully.
“We have, indeed. Analysis of old records and my sister’s research indicates she was working on a new gene-editing technique. Nothing was ever passed by the healer’s hall, or even put before them for consideration, but after studying what we have, the lord healer thinks the technique can be adapted and used for this purpose.”
“The lord healer... is your nephew. He had access to his mother’s private files?” Nyek put all the pieces together, a frown between his brows.
Of course, it all made sense. That kind of information wouldn’t have been available for general viewing. Not for people like him anyway. Not that he could have done anything with it. He had no healer training, above basic battlefield training, and that was mostly limited to stopping a warrior bleeding out before the healers could get to him.
“He did. Unfortunately, Miisan wrote in cypher a lot of the time, so it took Laarn a few years to crack the particular code she used. But now that he has, there is apparently a cache of information buried in an AI that was coded from her brain patterns. More research on the technique she was perfecting. I need you to retrieve it.”
“There is no copy of the AI with the technology hall?”
Relief rolled through Nyek at the surprise that colored Danaar’s voice. He wasn’t the only one being caught on the back foot by some of this new information.
Daaynal shook his head, his expression somewhere between frustration and remembered grief. “Toward the end of her life, just before she succumbed to the plague herself, Miisan became increasingly secretive and paranoid. She was convinced someone was trying to steal her research and use it against her. Hence the use of cyphers and hidden caches of information.”
From the glance the emperor sent his way, it wasn’t difficult to work out who that someone was.
“She was worried about traditionalists stealing information?”
Both males looked at him, and Daaynal nodded before frowning and shaking his head. “No, not really traditionalists. The fanatics within that eventually became the purist movement. She warned me about them years ago, I should have listened to her. I could have saved a lot of heartache and loss of life.”
There was nothing Nyek could say to that. It was the truth and they all knew it. The purist movement had been born out of the agony of the plague, traditionalists who blamed the loss of their females on advances in technology. On the increasing usage of genetic manipulation.
It’s divine retribution... His father’s voice rasped in his ear accusingly. All your fault. Your mother died because of YOU. You killed her so you might live.
His face set into implacable lines as he ignored the voice. It was an old hurt, one he’d lived with all his life and a sin he’d already atoned for with his life blood.
“Your Majesty?” Danaar prompted, bringing Daaynal back from his grief to the conversation. Quickly, the warrior emperor looked up, rebuilding himself in a heartbeat, but it was too late. Nyek had already seen thro
ugh the chink in his armor and viewed the truth.
Daaynal K’Saan blamed himself for his sister’s death.
“Yes... The AI. It was aboard my private flyer and was lost when a mission one of my senior warriors was on went sideways. I need for you to head to the Rivaas Sector, locate the flyer and retrieve the AI.”
Nyek pursed his lips, running his fingers over the short stubble on his jaw as the image in front of them changed to a view of the Rivaas Sector. He was more than familiar with the area. The Tev’tolath skirted the edge of it on several of its regular routes.
“There’s been a huge increase in pirate activity in that area recently,” he pointed out. “It would be suicide for a single ship, even one such as the Izal’vias, to head in there alone.”
Hells, if they did send in the Izal’vias, the pirates would think all their naming days had come at once. There would be a bloodbath between the different groups as they fought to be the first with a capital ship in their arsenal.
“Which is why we will not be sending the Izal’vias,” Danaar decided, his brow furrowed as he looked over the plans of the system. Lifting a hand, he pointed at a line drawn through the sector, which then disappeared. “This is the flight plan of the shuttle, I assume?”
“Correct. Karryl says they crashed somewhere in this system, after which they were captured by the F’Naar. I suggest you start your search there and spiral outward.”
Nyek nodded. “Three transports could sneak in under the pirates’ radars and conduct a search. If all goes well, they will locate the shuttle and be back with the AI before the pirates even realize they’re in the area.”
“Excellent! I shall leave you two to sort the details. Keep me updated.” And with those words, the emperor cut the connection. One moment he was there, large as life sitting next to them, and the next the seat was empty.
“I draanthing hate it when he does that,” Danaar growled, shaking his head. He refocused his attention on Nyek and the sector map in front of them. “We’ll bring the Izal’vias to position here, orbiting Senesta. We can use the cover of allowing the warriors to visit the pleasure houses there and launch shuttles undercover of the plasma storms just outside the system. They can slipstream and emerge here,” he pointed to a location well away from Senesta, “and begin the search.”
He looked through the holographic map directly at Nyek. “And by them, I mean you. You will be heading up this mission.”
Nyek nodded. “Of course, sir. I will order the helm to plot a course. We should be there within the day.”
It had been a long day of doing nothing and staying out of the way. After lunch Madison had been busy with meetings. Apparently, these ships did long-distance video-chat and she was working with a few of the other women taken by the Lathar and Cameron Murphy, the new president of earth on some kind of human-Latharian program.
Indra had caught a glimpse of the guy on a chat the other day and holy hell... he was a hottie. Not as much a hottie as Danaar’s new executive officer but with significantly less stick up his ass. Which was a pity. Not that Murphy had less of a stick up his ass, but that Nyek had so much of it. He had been fun to tease, that was for sure. She frowned as she realized he didn’t look at her like the other warriors did, like she was a snack they wanted to gobble up. He looked at her like he didn’t even notice she was a woman, and that just pissed her off even more. It shouldn’t. She shouldn’t care what Danaar’s second in command thought. But damn… a girl had some pride.
She shook off the thought, putting the sexy pain in the ass Lathar from her mind. Her lips curled upward as she meandered down the corridors, keeping her eyes open for her prey. The trick was to look like she wasn’t looking, and that drew the shy little critters into the open.
Scooting to the side, she let a squad of warriors pass by. Several of them slid glances her way so she eyeballed them, thumbs thrust into her belt and the hilt of her purloined battle dagger displayed prominently. It seemed word about her training with Aastan had gotten around, and fewer warriors seemed inclined to leer at her.
As if to prove her theory, as soon as each warrior spotted the dagger, they snapped their eyes to the front as though she didn’t exist. A smirk curved her lips. She’d noticed that about the Lathar. They seemed to have this fairytale in their heads about women being all sweet, delicate and fragile. As soon as they came across one who could look after herself, their brains fritzed, and they couldn’t cope.
“Pussies,” she muttered to herself as she pushed off from the wall. “Wouldn’t know what to do with a real woman if one bit them in the ass.”
She continued her hunt, peering into all the shadowed nooks and crannies in the walls. Unlike on the command deck, the corridors on the lower levels were less sparkly, utopian perfection with omnipresent lighting and more hard-wearing metal flooring and wall panels. She’d even seen some honest-to-god rivets and pipework two turns back. And, for her purposes, there were what looked like mouse-holes at regular intervals at floor level—if mice were the size of small dogs.
She grinned as a slight chirping heralded the arrival of her prey and took a quick sidestep to plaster herself against the wall next to one of the mouseholes. Staying motionless, she listened as the soft cheeping got louder, the sound almost curious. Her eyes fixed on the edge of the mousehole she watched as a small bot edged its way out, turning this way and that with its antennae extended as it checked the corridor for signs of life.
Satisfied the corridor was deserted, it edged the rest of the way out and began shuffling across the floor, leaving a gleaming trail in its wake. As far as she could work out, they were the Latharian equivalent of a cleaning bot. Totally automated, they usually only emerged when no one was about to clean so they didn’t get underfoot. They were round and with the antennae, they were really rather cute.
At least, they were a hell of a lot cuter than those freaky combat bots with the knives for fingers she’d seen during her initial tour of the ship. One of those she wouldn’t want to meet in a dark corridor, no matter what Danaar said about them being piloted by Latharian warriors. She disliked killer robots, no matter how many people said they were safe. She’d seen that movie, thank you very much.
Creeping out from her position against the wall, she stalked the little bot on silent feet. Even though it was shuffling along at the moment, if it got wind of her presence, it would bolt, and the little suckers were fast as fuck. Probably so they didn’t get caught out in the open if a group of those combat bots came along. A little guy like this could easily get squished under foot. Or claw... she wasn’t entirely sure what the appendages on the murderous bots were called.
So she kept her movements as quiet as possible, creeping along after the little cleaning bot. When she was halfway between the wall and it, it stopped suddenly, lifting its antennae.
Shit. It had sensed her. With a wordless yell, she launched herself toward it in the best tackle she’d ever managed. Sailing through the air, full length, she landed on the bot and pinned it to the floor. It cheeped wildly in distress, the wheels under its body skidding and sliding against the deck, but her weight was too much for it.
“Shhh... shhh... I’m not going to hurt you,” she told it, her voice soothing. So what that it was a robot. She still didn’t like the idea the thing was in distress because of her.
At the sound of her voice it calmed down, cheeping as its antennae rotated so it could “see” her. Must have something like eyes on the ends where the lights were. With a little shudder, it went pliant, no longer trying to escape.
“Who’s a good boy then?” she murmured, lifting up and pinning it between her knees. Reaching to the back of her belt she pulled out a second knife, unsheathing it, and retrieved the tape from her pocket. With quick movements, she taped the blade securely to the side of the bot. Tapping it to make sure it didn’t move, she grinned and then let the thing go.
It cheeped and whizzed off, stopping about ten feet away to turn and give her a rally of ir
ate cheeps and whistles that told her in no uncertain terms what it thought about the indignity of being manhandled. Or was that womanhandled?
She grinned as it turned and whizzed off, disappearing off down another of the mouseholes, still cheeping loudly. That was... number five and she was out of knives. She’d need to steal a few more before she could enlist more cleaners for her bot army.
“What are you doing in the corridors on your own?” The irate demand made her turn quickly and jump to her feet. Mr. Stick-up-his-ass stood at the turn of the corridor, arms folded over his lickably muscled chest.
She sauntered toward him, her eyebrow raised.
“Free country. Isn’t it?”
His brows snapped together. “That makes no sense. The Izal’vias is neither without cost nor a planet-bound location.”
Was this guy for real? She chuckled, shoving her hands on her hips as she came to a stop in front of him. “It means I can do what I want, when I want, and there are no rules to tell me otherwise.”
5
“On this ship you cannot do as you want. You will follow imperial command,” Nyek said as the spikey little human female stalked toward him.
For a moment she’d reminded him of a deearin kit, all claws and ferociousness despite its cuteness, but then she opened her mouth and the liiraas came out.
“Oh, is that so?” She cocked her head to look up at him, the light of challenge in her eyes.
He bit back a growl, fighting the urge to shake her... or kiss the breath out of her. That last just irritated him all the more. He scanned the corridor. Empty.
“Where is your mate? Why has he allowed you to roam on your own?”
Her eyes spat fire. “Oh, so my only worth is when I belong to a man? I can’t make decisions on my own?”
Draanth’s sake. Her mate didn’t just have his sympathies. The male needed a damned medal. Nyek shoved his mind away from how he’d deal with her insubordination and stubbornness if she was his mate and focused on her.