by Bex McLynn
Seething, he forced a comm through a private line. The groggy voice answering had him clenching his teeth.
"Who the fuck is this?" Thane Jahat asked.
"I'm gutting the ship and returning your shit to you."
He heard sheets rustling through the line. "What the fuck? Borac, is that you? It's the middle of the damn night. Why the hell are you comming me?"
He kept walking, rocking his head from side to side to crack his neck. "This is the only fucking courtesy I'll extend. Give me a destination for your crew."
"Space the useless lot of 'em. They failed in their duty. Ship's still dead in space."
"If you wanted Prykimis repaired, you should have given them supplies."
"The right men would have gotten the job done. No excuses."
Zver's angry steps faltered. All those men in general berthing, Thane Jahat had just turned his back on them. Unsworn. Unholde damn Jahat. He tossed them aside like spent cartridges.
Zver frosted over. "The Trine has been here for days. When is your arrival?"
Dark chuckling. "Can't wait to see me, Thanemonger? Want to bloody my face like you did to Grondin?"
He did. Direis and Unholde damn him, he truly did. When he'd torn into those men who had hunted and cornered Seph, he had been the fucking Thanemonger, and he would have given his soul to have had Thane Jahat in his hands.
Incited with fury, he turned and drove his fist into the metal wall.
"Stop pounding on my ship, Borac. I thought you were trying to fix her." Thane Jahat cut the comm.
He stood and huffed, his frosty exhales vaporous.
He should be pleased that Thane Jahat had yet to arrive. The other thane's continued absence served as mounting evidence to bring before TerTac. Critical resources, both the ship and her people, had been left to rot. Prykimis deserved a new house as steward. She and her crew had suffered enough. Yet, his hands still ached—from killing those men, from punching the wall—feeling empty because they wanted to strangle Thane Jahat.
Or hold Seph. She was so tiny, yet warm. Like an ember.
Gods, he could honestly say, he'd never tasted anyone like her. Her mouth. Her cunt. Both were warm, yet their flavors so distinct. Her mouth honeyed sweetness. Her cunt musk tart and mouthwatering. Her bared sex, seemingly similar to the Teras with plump lips, had only one clyccana. By Direis, that one fleshly nub was a powder keg. All her pleasure was bundled into one fuse that he had focused on relentlessly. When she ignited, her release engulfed her entire body. With his hands on her hips, he had felt her burning toward her orgasm. His only regret was that he hadn't watched her face as she went up in flames.
Unholde take him, that was his only regret? He was a selfish bastard. She had been vulnerable, and he had pounced on her like a majoris feline on a wounded animal. Yes, he had eased her. Had relaxed her nerves so that she could sleep. But he hadn't offered her a brace, as was proper for intercourse. Hadn't followed protocol and discussed terms for their assignation—how often she would accommodate him and if she'd grant exclusivity. He'd taken under the pretense of giving.
He swore hard and low.
He opened another private comm.
"Wies here."
He scrubbed at his jaw, working the tension free. "You fit to travel?"
"Aye, Thane."
He examined his question. The man had just been in battle. "Are you fit to be seen?" No sense distressing Seph if Wies looked like a nail head flattened by a mallet.
"Can always keep my helmet on and visor down," Wies suggested pragmatically.
It'll have to do. Based on Seph's own assurances, she'd seen worse than bruises and sutures. "Go to Deleo and check-in with Seph. Don't wake her. Just be there." She'd probably dote all over his strike captain.
"Aye, Thane."
"And Cune her, too." He mentally shot off the information to Wies.
"Received. Aye, Thane."
Whatever Wies would Cune her about, well, he imagined would be mundane. His curiosity lay with Seph's responses. Thus far, in their one and only Cune exchange, she'd called him old. In Kraai, no less.
He received another incoming comm from Varlet.
"Borac here."
"Your brother has been asking for you." His aide knew him well and refrained from contacting him, knowing to wait for Zver to resume his normal, autocratic activity. After all, there were more pressing concerns than seeing Therion.
"I'll take care of him," he said, suddenly feeling exhausted—like his remaining energy knew his brother would siphon it off.
He had missed his bunk window. Yes, one of his men would shove off for him, but he had too much shit to do. He still had to talk to Vedma—Seph was not returning to Prykimis—plus deal with the surviving mutineers. Chief Ochrona and his team started investigating, and initial reports pointed to a larger conspiracy.
The attack, although hastily carried out, appeared somewhat planned. Before Seph's attack, his officers had been utilizing some maintenance teams from Prykimis's crew. They stabilized TTS parts that would eventually be retrograded to Athelasan tech by his own men. The men who attacked Seph had indeed been scheduled by Zver's own officers to work in that corridor, but only at the last minute. Those seven men did not just spontaneously riot.
But what was their end game? Those men had no exit strategy. They threw their lives away for what? To rape and murder one woman?
He entered the training arena, not at all surprised to see Therion right where he'd left him six hours ago—flat on his back, jacket off, and sparring leathers still wrapped around his knuckles.
Therion finagled with his WristCune. "Hey, Zver. New clade's been forming. Thought I'd toss 'em the ol' 'Thanebanger' scrum code. See if they can't get their numbers up. Hate to see new, frail things fail. You know?"
He approached his brother on laden feet. Sprawled out on the mat, Therion resembled a scattering of sticks. Long limbs might have looked taut, but lacked healthy muscle. His brother had never been bulky, like their cousin Dius, but he'd never been this lean. His praal was livid, far darker than it should be at his age. Therion was wasting away on this ship. He couldn't keep up during their sparring, and by the time he staggered up to the site of Seph's attack, there was nothing to do but move bodies. Therion struggled then, too, trying to lift those gaunt corpses.
He sank down next to his brother, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why aren't you in berthing?"
"No one would carry me."
He chuckled, once. It felt awkward.
Therion lowered his WristCune, turning his awed gaze toward his brother. "Did you just laugh?"
He just frowned and looked elsewhere.
"How's Seph?" Therion labored to sit up. "She won't Cune me back."
"You're Cuning her as 'Thanebanger.'"
"Yeah. So?"
"That's why."
"Huh." Therion appeared profoundly affected, like that reason had never occurred to him.
He and his brother sat, gazing at the walls.
"Lekar says she's fine," he eventually said.
"Did anyone talk to her about it? I mean, she's not a fleetman, and that experience had to have been..."
He swallowed thickly, rather shocked that Therion had immediately considered the impact to Seph's psyche. "Yes. She talked to someone."
"Good." Therion fidgeted with his WristCune. "Is she coming back to Prykimis?"
"No." Although, Vedma's rather colorfully antagonistic messages had a valid underlying point. "Maybe. I haven't decided."
Therion chuckled and said with juvenile reverence, "She truly fucked up the ship, didn't she? Fucking brilliant, our Seph."
He just hung his head and groaned. The systems Seph knocked offline during her panicked tear through the corridors still hadn't come back online. Other systems oscillated, as if the ship suffered tiny seizures. 'Temper tantrums,' Mernok called them, insisting Prykimis sought attention by oscillating the systems. More moya nonsense. Regardless of Mernok's unconventional explanatio
ns, Vedma also wanted Seph back on board for that very reason, to stabilize the systems.
The Trine's vein of technopathy was something he'd seen in practice but didn't experience for himself. His connection to tech was invasive and ephemeral, micro-second updates to his data feeds. Athela claim to have constant contact with technology, an uninterrupted flow between themselves and the systems. So, Seph's very presence—and not her interactions—could be impacting Prykimis's systems.
He knew, inevitably, Seph would return to Prykimis. It was the best course of action. His team scrambled, plugging holes in a crumbling dam, and hundreds of lives were at risk. Yes, he knew; he just didn't like it.
He mentally Cuned his officers and Wies. He wanted Seph to wake only when she was good and ready and fueled with a proper meal. He ordered food from his own stores. Nothing elaborate, but fresher and better than canteen porridge. After that, he instructed his men to transport her back over to Prykimis.
He shot off a message to Vedma. Yes, Seph would return to Prykimis. Exact time yet determined.
He read, but did not reply to, Lady Arana's numerous messages. He'd deal with her later. Now he needed to check in with Chief Ochrona regarding Seph's remaining attackers.
He rolled to his feet and offered his brother a hand-up. "You can bunk with my officers in the Athel Hall."
"Nah." Therion wheezed. "I'll bunk with my grunts. Hey, I've been getting lots of complaints Cuned to me. You confiscated BTN?" When he gave his brother a blank stare, Therion clarified. "Closet Lassie. Is it true you carted her off?"
"I had that thing tossed into the incinerator," Zver said without remorse.
His brother regarded him for a moment, then slapped him on the shoulder before limping off. "Fucking glad you did, Zver. Fucking. Glad."
Chapter Thirteen
Seph gasped for breath as Lady Arana rocked her and squeezed. "By Direis! My dear, my dear, my dear!"
Well, no wonder Xander always whined so much when she'd give him Mac-a-Mommy and Cheese Squeezes.
"You're gonna snap her in half, Arana," Vedma griped. "Let her go."
When Arana continued to suffocate her, Vedma hobbled over and pulled Seph free. She was about to thank Vedma for rescuing her, but the woman's cold, hard stare had Seph snapping her mouth shut.
Vedma snorted. "All that fuss and still a caroa."
"Elder Vedma!" Arana said, gathering Seph back into her flowery scented embrace. "Truly uncalled for, Elder. After what she's been through, how could you say that?"
Seph shrugged it off. Her morning self-affirmation had prepared her. She pumped herself up by huffing 'This. Is. Sparta!' a few times. She felt like a shit-kicking machine when she left the lav. Explaining the whole thing to Wies brought her down a notch, but he really identified with the Spartan culture. So, there was that.
Her reunion with the Trine happened exactly as she had expected. Arana smothered her with overbearing compassion. Vedma sneered and said nasty, mean things. Hyva made no mention of the incident at all, yet eerily inquired if she had a pleasant evening.
Thanks to Zver's magnificent tongue, her evening hadn't been total crap. Her morning started awkwardly as hell, though. She woke up alone in his bunk. She opened the door to find his aide waiting outside with a fresh uniform for her. Felt kind of like a one-night stand where the guy sends his roommate to kick you out.
But she was overthinking it. Maybe the Teras gave oral sex instead of sympathy hugs. So, when in Rome, and all that. It was just better to soldier on and get down to today's business. She was going home, dammit.
Since Zver relocated his officers' bunks to the Athel Hall, Seph and the Trine met in the Athel Chamber. Vedma took a seat in an armchair, while Arana sat on the couch next to Seph. Hyva stood over by the desk, opening a large case, pulling out equipment.
"Well, did I break the ship?" she asked the general assembly.
She wanted to be able to operate a ship—any ship to get a ride home—not turn it into space junk.
"Oh, why would you think such a thing? Who told you that?" Arana asked, running her fingertips over her sculpted eyebrows as if to soothe the notion away.
Vedma barked with laughter. "I wish I did. 'Cause it's true."
Seph shifted her gaze to Hyva. She wanted to hear her take on things.
Hyva stood by the ornate desk, calibrating a machine that she'd brought with her. Her silky curtain of black hair hid her face from view, and her long, delicate fingers ran over the attached Cuneiform screen.
"[Self-contained toroidal pile,]" Prykimis said.
"Well." Seph gave a thumbs-up to the ceiling. "Ship's interjecting again. Not completely broken, then. What do you think, Hyva?"
Hyva straightened and focused on Seph, her face serene. "Think or know?"
"Both."
"I think you may have connected with Prykimis's base system."
Seph had been poking around on the AthNet as a means to waylay her anxiety after the attack. "You mean the moya? I was reading—"
Hyva cut her off with a derisive harrumph. "No. I mean the base system."
Okay, so Hyva did not subscribe to mysticism and the soul of the ship. She should have realized that sooner.
Hyva continued. "However, since you were not being monitored at the time of the incident, I have no data to support this claim. The data from Thane Borac, although delivered promptly upon request, was heavily massaged. I suspect his team may be withholding information."
Arana laughed, highly amused. "Of course Borac is withholding information, Hyva dear. That man never gives up an advantage."
"On the contrary, keeping data from me places him at a disadvantage," Hyva said staidly.
"Man's hunting down a security breach," Vedma said. "He's gonna keep close to the vest 'til all them vermin are exterminated."
"So what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Seph asked. "Just hope it doesn't happen again? That someone doesn't jump out and scare me, causing half the ship to implode?"
"The ship won't implode, dear," Arana said.
"You know what I mean," Seph said as she turned to Hyva. "Do you really think the thane's withholding information that could help me get better at all this?" She swirled her hands around her head, rather mystically. When Hyva stared blankly at her, she felt like a damn fool. "You know what I mean."
"Possibly," Hyva said.
Seph didn't know if Hyva addressed her question, gesticulation, or both.
"It will all come together for you at the Athela Academe," Arana said. "Trust me. Once there, you will see that we have an organized, time-tested approach that will help you tap into your potential."
Seph blinked. Did Arana just quote from a brochure, like a college recruiter? Hell, she hadn't been courted by a higher learning institution in freaking ages. They all vanished by the end of her junior year of high school. College basketball coaches could only offer scholarships that included housing, not childcare.
"Bah." Vedma did her hand wave again. "Bullshit."
Arana rolled her eyes. "We've talked about this, Vedma. You've got to stop disparaging the Academe. You're on the damn committee."
Vedma merely shrugged.
"I'm sure the Academe is wonderful," Seph said. "But I'm not going. I'm returning home, as soon as I can."
Arana gave her a small smile. "What I told Hyva is true for you, too, dear. Thane Borac won't give up an advantage."
Stunned, Seph just shook her head.
Her eggs rested in the basket of Team Borac, clutch pun intended. She'd seen Zver when he was thaning. The man proved to be intelligent and tenacious, ferocious and honorable. He said he'd see her home, and she believed him. She just had to be patient, until his duty to Prykimis was fulfilled.
"No," she said. "He promised he'd help me."
"And so can the Academe," Arana said. "Our resources surpass those of House Borac."
"What resources?"
"We house and educate all Athela in the Teras Dominion," Arana said, preening. "That
gives us access to the best of everything, including scientists and researchers. Dedication to the training of Athela means studying all worlds with traces of the Athelasan civilization. You are technopathic, so it is not wrong to conclude, that at some point, the Athelasans have been to your homeworld."
She had already suspected that bit about the Athelasans and Earth, especially when Zver had mentioned that some Teras, such as himself, were actually Teras-Athelasan hybrids. What she hadn't even considered was that the Trine could be more than a quaint women's society.
"Just an Academe?" Seph asked, looking between the three women. "Not a selective breeding program controlled by the government?"
Arana gasped. "Blessed Direis, indeed not! Where did you get that idea? Did Vedma say something to you?"
"Uh, no. But I've been reading about other stuff on the AthNet."
Both Vedma and Arana scoffed in a rare moment of like-mindedness.
"Rubbish," Arana said.
"Trash," Vedma agreed.
Seph pointed to her WristCune. "Are you telling me the statistics I found are false? That less than ten percent of the Teras population has technopathic abilities? And from that little bit, it's mostly women? That more children inherit the abilities from their mother rather than their father? If the defense of the Dominion is dependent on operating Athelasan ships and space fortresses, why on Earth are Athela not being treated like military assets?"
The Trine greeted her rant with silence.
Confounded, Seph tossed her hands up. "Seriously? Why are Athela not in a controlled environment, like a lab or lair?"
Arana leaned forward and placed a placating hand on Seph's arm. "Because we're civilized, my dear."
"Damn government," Vedma said gratingly. She called to Hyva. "Girl, is that thingy ready yet?"