StarShadow (The Great Space Race Book 1)

by CJ CADE

  She blinked. Oh, quark. Had she just said that on holovid? She'd meant that he was too tall, not the measurements of his—meyowl, just laser her now.

  Her face pulsed with heat.

  The Egglantian tittered. "Oooh, you Tygeans, so frank." She simpered at the hologram, which began to revolve slowly. "So, you find your partner attractive, yes?"

  "I... I don't think of him in a sexual way at all. We've been forced to be partners, so I view him as simply a—a co-worker."

  The reporter eyed her coyly. "Really? No attraction there at all? Despite his fabulous length?"

  Mia could almost hear the roars of laughter from inter-galactic audiences—and the groans of dismay from her own family. Her face pulsed with heat again. She tipped her head so her hair fell over her shoulder, and narrowed her eyes at the reporter. She was so done here. "None. At. All."

  "Hmmm. If you say so. In that case, let's move on. How do you find the commander as a race partner?"

  "As a race partner?" Mia snarled, goaded beyond discretion. "I find D'Arek A'Renoq cold, cruel and exceedingly arrogant, like most of his kind. As his partner, I will have to be the voice of reason and temperance... if I don't kill him first."

  She bared her teeth in a smile. "Any other questions?"

  The Egglantian sat back in her chair, blinking rapidly. "Erm... no. Thank you so much."

  Mia crossed her arms, tossed her hair back and waited for the holo-cams to whiz away. And then tried very hard not to worry about what she'd said, on holocam... in front of two galaxies.

  Not that she cared about the opinion of 99.9% of the beings in either galaxy.

  But she did have a tendency to snarl whatever was on the tip of her tongue when she was angry. She knew this, and most of the time, controlled it. Okay, some of the time she controlled it.

  Being a female in a family of over-bearing alpha males wasn't easy. She would never be big enough or strong enough to thump a Tyger male upside the head and get away with it, so she'd learned to use her words.

  Sometimes, like now, she completely and totally over-used them.

  Goddess, she hoped the Aurelian never saw this interview.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Arek stepped from the lift into the large lobby area of the Race Headquarters. Before moving more than a step from the portal, he scanned the large room, assessing all entrances, exits, surveillance, as well as anything that might be used as a weapon by himself, or against him, in a conflict.

  The place was opulent, for certain. Although the walls and flooring were shades of gray and black, the materials were plush and heavy with texture. Accustomed as he was to living in spare, utilitarian military quarters, he found this softness oppressive. Ornate chandeliers floated overhead, like giant spiders waiting to descend on the unwary beings who crowded the space.

  The beings present were a bizarre lot, even to a soldier accustomed to encountering all kinds from huge, bestial, yellow Gorglons to the slight, green-tinged Pangaeans. Even more bizarre was what they seemed to consider evening dress.

  The big albino male had fared poorly—Arek's lips twitched at the sight of the fellow, stoic and miserable in a suit of screaming green-and-purple stripes.

  A Serpentian female wore—barely—a tiny gown that seemed to float a millimeter away from her lithe body, so anyone who chose could peer inside the garment, which her partner, a human male, was doing.

  As for the Sandarian with four arms, he'd apparently decided it would be a good idea to emphasize his odd shape in a sparkling blue tuxedo with a collar that rose in stiff majesty to frame his bulbous head.

  Bartoo and his equally annoying partner had attempted to stuff Arek into a bright chartreuse ensemble the color of new grass on Aurellon. He had informed them he would don such a costume over their corpses.

  He wore instead a plain, well-cut suit in a brown as dark as ground coffee, the strong kind that kept a soldier awake on a long patrol in a cruiser. He didn't much care about the color, only that the suit didn't pinch his neck, once he'd unfastened it to below his collarbone, and didn't bind his shoulders or back—because an attack could happen anytime, anyplace, and a soldier was always ready.

  The suit also had a chest pocket for the thin, but effective laser he'd smuggled through with him when he was transported. Actually, he wasn't sure 'smuggled' was the correct term—the Octiron Corp was no doubt aware of it, but they hadn't confiscated it. That was all that mattered.

  As a member of a race far superior to most others in intellect, physical strength and power of will, he cared little what anyone involved with the race thought of him. He would have entered this room naked, and competed that way, if required. But if his image was to be holovidded back to his own people, to his troops and commanding officers, his family... this required that he maintain dignity on camera.

  And for an Aurelian officer, this meant the upper hand, at all times. Which in this case, meant winning this foolish, frivolous Race.

  It would have helped immensely if he'd been allowed to choose his own partner, of course. But he'd make do with the Tygean female. He could stash her out of the way if a task required his full concentration. Give her some menial task and tell her it was critically important, or that she looked pretty as she was doing it. That should work.

  What he'd said in the interview was only the truth—everyone knew Tygeans were vain about their appearance.

  At least this Tygress wouldn't be vying for his attention all the time, showing him her feminine wiles and giggling shrill enough to wake a sleeping skrog, like those empty-headed females from the opening ceremony. And speaking of them, there were the blondes now, one clad in a flowing gown cut down to her navel, the other in a tiny suit more appropriate for the bedchamber than a public ceremony.

  He turned away, scanning the others streaming in through the portals. Where was the Tygress when he needed her, to fend off these females? He enjoyed sex as well as the next man, but right now he had better things to do, such as listen in on as many conversations as possible, and gain intel about as many of his opponents as possible.

  Later, he might single out one of them for a swift coupling, but he'd go to bed alone.

  His gaze caught on a slim, curvaceous female just entering the lobby. She was certainly worthy of attention, especially in that gown. It seemed to consist mainly of glittering bands the color of golden topaz, which began at her throat, crossed her chest leaving her slender, strong shoulders bare, while cradling her high, plump breasts. Long sleeves reached a point at her wrists.

  Her ribs and small waist were crisscrossed again, then her swelling hips. The gown became solid there, thank the Great God beyond. A male could only bear so much temptation. The long skirt swirled as she sauntered into the room.

  The female's hair was caught high on her head in a braid, also entwined with glittering bands. Her lovely face was enhanced with cosmetics, her large eyes pools of golden-brown mystery between thick lashes, her delicate cheekbones flushed, her full lips dewy and pink.

  She looked straight across the room toward him. Her lovely face tightened, and with a toss of her thick braid over one shoulder, she turned her back.

  Arek's throat went dry, and his groin tightened, heat building low. Hells, that dress was cut so low he swore he could see the shadow of the cleft between her ass-cheeks. Which were round, full and just the right size to fill a man's hands while he held her and pounded into her tight, supple depths.

  This female might be small, but she was hot.

  "Ho-hoo," Bartoo crowed, popping up at his side. "What do you think of our Tygress now, Commander?"

  Skrog shit.

  He should've known. He had known, he'd just been too busy admiring her like a horny teen. The topaz temptress was his partner, Mia Jag.

  And she was flirting all right, just not with him. She clearly planned to find a partner for later.

  At least he knew she wouldn't be able to substitute another partner in his place for the Race. He smirked as he felt the new
com unit on his ear. The site throbbed a little, but it was worth the irritation to know at least one facet of this foolish Race had been settled.

  Not that he wanted a Tygean as a partner. But better her than their short, nearly square handler with ear-piercing screech of a voice, or the black-skinned woman in the sparkly gown. She was cheerful and bright-eyed, but didn't seem to stop talking even to take a breath. The thought of being stuck on a small ship with such constant babbling made him shudder.

  No, the Tygress was easy on the eye, didn't like him well enough to try and converse constantly, and he'd keep her in line without too much trouble. She'd do just fine.

  For now, he'd circulate, ask questions and listen where he could. See who let slip their strengths and weaknesses.

  "Contestants!" called a magnified voice. It was Suede Harrington again, beaming with joviality as he waved his arms, beckoning them all. "Time for you all to get acquainted with each other, yes. But, make sure your partner is at your side! You'll move about the room, spending a short time with each of the other teams. And no need to worry, we'll make sure you meet all of those you'll be competing against. And remember—have fun!"

  Arek snorted. Fun? The man was as sincere as a mirage of water on the Hamor desert.

  He scanned the room for his partner, and smiled to himself when he found her glaring at him as if the idea to pair off had been his.

  At least the evening would not be boring.

  * * *

  A few hours later, Mia stood near one of the many tall cocktail tables. She was at once exhausted and strangely exhilarated. With her partner looming at her shoulder, she'd circled the room. Too keyed up to eat much, she'd nibbled a few of the exotic treats on the buffet. Nerves clearly had no effect on her partner's appetite—he ate his way calmly through two heaping plates of food.

  They'd chatted—or attempted to chat—with each of the other teams. Some of the contestants, such as Tryn, the black woman in sparkly blue, were amusing. Her pale partner Armond was friendly, if very quiet.

  Mia had also liked the human, Tripp Gallifer. She'd been shocked and appalled by his and his cat-eared partner's stories of being shanghaied and forced to compete in the Race. But when she'd suggested they find authorities to lodge an immediate protest, D'Arek had shaken his head curtly.

  "To whom do you think they can complain?" he'd asked, giving her a look that said she was hopelessly naive. "Octiron controls all communications in and out of this place."

  "The commander's right," Tripp had drawled. "I'm here now, so I plan to win this contest, and use the money to buy me a ship with security no one can mess with."

  "And I will use my share to do the same," his cat-eared partner hissed. "I will have the best security in my galaxy."

  "Were you injured by the journey?" Mia asked the other female. "It knocked me for a loop. It was even worse for him—he was completely out." She gave her partner a look of faux sympathy from under her lashes. He narrowed his eyes at her, displeased by her openness. Too bad for him

  "I was unaffected," the woman said, her nostrils flaring in disdain as she looked Mia over. "Your race is more... human, I suppose."

  Mia smiled, showing her teeth. "You haven't seen one of us in shift, clearly." Pointy-eared bitch. No one criticized Tygeans.

  The stocky, tanned Tripp glanced between them, his eyes twinkling. "I came through okay. Probably because I was already porting, and they re-directed it. Sounds like it was tougher on you two."

  The signal sounded to move to another team. Mia gave Tripp a parting smile, and he winked back. His partner curled her lip before stalking away.

  D'Arek scowled down at Mia. "You need to learn to guard your tongue. You give our weaknesses away, and gain nothing."

  Mia curled her lip at him. The man might be an ice-cold warrior, but he was still dense as cerametal. "No, now they'll underestimate us. The portal jump may have been rough on me, but Tygers handle normal space travel, such as the kind we'll do during the Race, extremely well. So, unless you're as rattled by space travel as you are by porting, we haven't exposed any weakness at all."

  "I am extremely adept at space travel," he said. "Among many other things. Your only concern should be to stay out of my way, while I handle our craft."

  "While you handle our craft?" she repeated, anger firing hot in her middle. "I'll have you know I took high marks in flight and navigation classes. I can pilot any craft they give us." At least she was fairly certain she could.

  He arched a brow. "Really? That is impressive. And how many combat missions have you flown? Any experience under enemy fire? How about stealth landings, hmm?"

  A chill trickled through the heat of Mia's anger. True, the man was Aurelian—a race of militaristic marauders. And the bleakness in his light gaze said that he'd not only flown those missions, he'd killed some of those enemies.

  What if he decided he was better off without her? Would he dispose of her and pretend she'd died in some kind of accident?

  Then she stiffened her spine. He might be an Aurelian, but she was a Tygress. She'd simply have to be on her guard, alert for any sign of sabotage from him. "I hardly think anyone's going to be shooting at us in the Race."

  "No? I'll wager you didn't think they'd shanghai contestants, either," he replied.

  Mia couldn't think of a retort for this. But he wouldn't have heard her anyway. He was smiling at the lithe, blonde Serpentian who'd arrived at their table. She was looking at Arek as if she wanted to coil around him right here in front of Mia and everyone else.

  "Hello there," the Serp breathed. "You must be Prince D'Arek."

  "I am," he said, taking her hand and leaning to brush his lips over her knuckles.

  Nearly gagging, Mia snagged a fresh cocktail from a passing hover tray and took a long drink. She was going to need it if she had to listen to these two.

  Then a slim blond man shouldered through the crowd to them. He snagged a drink and took a drink just as Mia did. Their eyes met, and they both grinned. He waggled his brows at her. "Having as much fun as I am?" he asked her under the roar of voices and music.

  "Oh, even more," Mia said, rolling her eyes.

  They laughed together, and he leaned in across the table, his handsome face alight with amusement. "I'm Tenn. My Race partner is Naali."

  "I'm Mia, and he's D'Arek. Where are you from, Tenn?"

  He gave her a wry look. "All over. My parents were with the diplomatic service—in the Milky Way Galaxy, I mean. And you?"

  "Planet Bryght, also Milky Way Galaxy."

  "No, seriously?" His eyes widened. "We were stationed on Bryght when I was in school. Rawwr City?"

  She gasped. "Yes! My family lives there. The Jag Clan."

  He shook his head. "Small universe, right?"

  The Serp said something and D'Arek chuckled, a deep sound of amusement. Mia looked around, startled. He could laugh? Apparently so, when he had a female hanging on his every word—not to mention on his arm. The blond looked like a serpent coiling to strike, a sight which ruffled Mia's hair the wrong way.

  Why, she did not know. It wasn't like she cared who her partner chose to bump juicies with tonight. Only that he showed up in the morning, ready to compete.

  She straightened, setting down her empty glass on the table. "Well, you two enjoy the rest of your evening," she said. "I'm off to relax."

  Tenn looked disappointed. "You're leaving so soon?"

  Mia smiled at him, moving around the table to take his arm. "Oh, I meant them," she said, indicating D'Arek and his hanger-on. "I was hoping you and I could find someplace... quieter."

  Tenn's face lit up.

  "That is unacceptable," D'Arek stated. "We have more reconnaissance to accomplish."

  Mia gave him a look over her shoulder. "No. We're done here. Go... eat dessert or something. I'll see you in the morning."

  "Oh, I'll make sure he has something sweet," Naali said, her smirk leaving no doubt what she had in mind.

  "I'm sure you will,"
Mia said, and walked away.

  Tenn followed her, opening the grand doors of the salon for her. The foyer was nearly empty except for Race employees stationed about the exits, and four contestants huddled together in one corner, speaking in hushed tones. Seeing Mia and Tenn, they stopped speaking and watched them suspiciously.

  "Looks as if Teams Asteroid and SolarFlare are working together," Mia said.

  "They'll need all the help they can get," Tenn told her. "Asteroid are both from Earth I—honestly they don't look healthy enough to compete. And as for SolarFlare... an Egg and a Pangaean? Really? They'll be lucky to find the controls on their ship."

  Mia said nothing, and Tenn paled. "Sorry, that sounded awful, didn't it? It's just that in my own embassy work, I've learned that some races are more suited to matters of intellect, and some for physical pursuits."

  "And for which are you humans most suited?"

  "Why for all of the above," he said, puffing out his chest. "We are the masters of the universe—or should be."

  Mia shook her head at him, laughing. "I do hope you can fit your ego in your Race ship, sir."

  He grimaced. "Along with my partner's Serpentian sense of importance? Not likely."

  Mia laughed harder. "Oh, no! I thought I was the only one stuck with a partner I don't want."

  "Oh, no. I'm certain you aren't. But I'll tell you what..." the elevators opened, and she stepped on. He held a hand up to hold the doors open. "I must speak with my handlers. But then, may I come to your room? Or invite you to mine, if you'd rather?"

  Mia couldn't help preening a bit, under the look in his blue eyes. "Yes. Come to mine. We can have a drink and... talk."

  His little smile said they both knew there'd be more than talking involved, but he nodded, and let go the elevator doors. "Splendid. Just give me twenty standard moments, and I'll be there."