by Ivy Barrett
“I’m not frightened. I’m angry.” She adjusted the robe, feeling decidedly underdressed for this conversation. “I know you think you rescued your leader, but you’ve made a horrible mistake. I need to speak with Ram, right now, or there will be hell to pay.”
“That’s not possible. We’re already in hyperspace,” Axarric told her. “The pilot had orders to jump as soon as we had you on board.”
She closed her eyes and started counting. This was bad, so damn bad. “We have to go back. Ram will see this as an act of war.” She opened her eyes, hoping to see understanding in Axarric’s.
“Any action now is up to Chancellor Savator,” Axarric insisted. “We just rescued you from slavery. Why are you upset?”
“I didn’t need to be rescued,” she cried. “I’m no longer a prisoner, and Galzar was never one.”
Axarric disregarded her objection with an impatient wave of his hand. “We’re not sure what Galzar was trying to accomplish for the past three days, but he obviously failed. We’re back on track now, or as close to it as possible. That means we proceed to our destination.”
“You’re not listening to me.” She took a step toward him and then realized the futility of her impulse. The male was massive and solid muscle. Shaking some sense into him wasn’t going to happen. He was following orders. There was no way to change his mind. Instead, she turned back to her mate or one of her mates. Even the thought still sounded strange. “Why’s he still out?”
“We have to run a series of scans on both of you,” Axarric explained. “Figured it would be easier to complete before Galzar woke up.”
She stood back and watched as the doctor activated various functions on the treatment table. Then the implication of what Axarric said sank in. “You expected Galzar to be angry. If all you did was bring the mission back on track, why would your commanding officer be pissed?”
Axarric folded his arms over his chest and stared down at her through narrowed eyes. “He’s no longer my commanding officer. The dogs of war selected me as their new alpha, and Teff took command of the Elizian.”
“Took command? Shouldn’t that be ‘was given’ command?” She placed her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Unless Savator approved these changes, replacing your commander is called mutiny.”
“Not when a ship’s commander has abandoned his post.” Axarric unfolded his arms and clasped his hands behind his back. “You can disagree with our decisions, Ms. Mortensen, but Galzar has been off-mission since we located Ram. When Galzar finally reported in, it was obvious he was under the influence of some drug or psychic compulsion. We made the best decisions we could under the bizarre circumstances. Galzar is a friend and my long-time commander, but there is no doubt he has been compromised. His ability to ever command again will be determined by someone much higher up the food chain than me.” Without allowing her to respond, he looked at the doctor and said, “Report your findings to Commander Teff. I need to check in with my crew.”
“Of course, Alpha Axarric,” the doctor responded without looking up from the scanner display.
Celeste saw no benefit in being uncooperative with the doctor, so she sat quietly on a treatment table next to Galzar and let the doctor do his job. “What are you looking for?” she finally asked when he deactivated the final scanner.
“Anything that shouldn’t be there, anything that has been changed.” He didn’t bother making eye contact and walked away before she could say anything else.
No one said it to her face, but they clearly considered her just as ‘compromised’ as Galzar. And she couldn’t really blame them. Their reaction was not only logical but also necessary to ensure the safety of everyone. The only trouble was the Yashonty weren’t responsible for the betrayal. That distinction belonged to the Tavorians.
She hopped down from the table and returned to Galzar’s side. They hadn’t restrained him, thank God. Neither he nor Ram had reacted well to that. Armed guards were stationed to either side of the door leading out of the clinic, so it was obvious they weren’t going anywhere.
Another hour passed before Galzar stirred, and she was starting to worry. He groaned and raised one of his hands to rub his eyes. “Were the dogs trying to kill me? I feel like shit.”
“They wanted you out for a while.” Galzar needed to be fully awake before she told him the rest. This was not the welcome either of them expected. How did she tell a battle-hardened warrior that he’d been usurped by the soldiers under his command? Needing to touch him, she slipped her hand into his. He immediately squeezed her fingers and opened his eyes. She smiled, starting to relax for the first time since her ‘rescue.’
“Spill it, mate,” he urged, adjusting the table so he could sit. “I can feel how upset you are.”
She paused for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts and control her emotions. Both her mates responded better to candor than diplomacy, so she didn’t try to candy-coat the facts. “Until it can be determined if you’re still in control of your mind and body, Axarric is in charge of the dogs of war and... shit, I’ve forgotten his name, but someone else is commanding the Elizian.”
“Probably Teff.” Galzar didn’t sound nearly as angry as she’d expected. Maybe he was still stunned. “They ran the scans while I was out?”
She nodded.
“Then they know about the mutation.” He sounded resigned rather than furious, but he let go of her hand.
“Why aren’t you angry?” She didn’t want the question to sound like an accusation, but she was furious and had expected the same reaction from him.
“I’m just as angry as you, love, but not with the dogs or Teff. They did exactly what I would have done. All of this begins and ends with the Tavorians. First Vikrin and now Pryar. They are the most manipulative, self-serving species I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering.”
“Except maybe the Skarilians?” She tried to smile, hoping to lighten his mood, but failed on both accounts.
“Yeah, there is always the Skarilians.”
She gave him a moment to process, then asked, “So what do we do now?”
“Did anyone tell you where we’re headed?”
She shook her head, slipping her hands into the pockets of her robe. “Axarric was semi-hostile. The others were even worse. Not surprising, I guess.”
“I’m sorry they were rude. They probably think you were instrumental in my downfall.”
“I don’t know Chancellor Savator well,” she said softly, “but he seems basically reasonable. What are our chances of convincing him to contact Ram before this gets any worse?”
Before Galzar could answer, the door to the clinic opened, and a tall, lean Ventori walked in. Like Axarric, the streaks in this male’s dark hair and eyes were blood red, and his skin was light gray. He glanced at Celeste then focused on Galzar, looking overtly regretful. “Has your mate informed you of the changes?”
“She has, Commander Teff.” Each word was sharp and sarcastic.
“You would have done the same,” Teff insisted. “You left us no choice.”
Rather than disagreeing, Galzar asked, “Are you taking me to Savator?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“That’s fucking bullshit,” Galzar snapped. “I’m not the enemy.”
“I don’t know that,” Teff objected. “What the hells happened on that ship? You went over there to negotiate an alliance—a move that was not sanctioned by the chancellor—and ended up mated to one of the human captives. What the fucking hells?”
“We were ambushed by a rogue Tavorian,” Galzar insisted.
Teff shook his head, looking frustrated by the entire conversation. “That makes no sense. The Tavorians are xenophobic pacifists. Why in damnation would they ambush anyone?”
As succinctly as possible, Galzar outlined the complex facts. Even having lived through it all, Celeste could hardly believe the wild sequence of events.
Teff’s expression gradually morphed from frustration to di
sbelief. “You and Ram are both bonded to Ms. Mortenson, and a Tavorian geneticist is to blame?”
“Yes.”
Teff looked from Galzar to Celeste and back. “I know bonding fever can hit fast and hard, but you have to realize how utterly insane all of this sounds.”
“This isn’t just bonding fever,” Celeste told him. “We were genetically altered to produce the strongest possible reaction to each other.”
Galzar sighed. “The Tavorians’ actions were inexcusable, but they led to the destination I was aiming for from the start.”
“The alliance isn’t finalized,” Teff cautioned. “Far from it.”
“All the more reason to ensure that Chancellor Savator contacts Ram before they start shooting at each other,” Celeste insisted. “If the Ventori and Yashonty go to war, the only winner will be the Skarilians.”
Galzar rolled his shoulders and groaned. “Are we headed back to Earth or not?”
“I was given coordinates and told to take you there. I have never been to the sector before, so I have no idea why the destination was chosen. However, it’s nowhere near Earth.”
“How long will it take to arrive?” Galzar asked thoughtfully.
“Roughly three days.”
“It will only take Ram fourteen hours to reach Earth.” Galzar tensed all over again. “You must contact Savator and explain why Ram is so angry. Or better yet, let me talk to Ram. We have to head this off, or the Yashonty will finish what the Skarilians began.”
“I have no way to contact Ram,” Teff objected. “Do you?”
Galzar looked at Celeste, hope obvious in his expression.
She shook her head. “Lorna’s implant only transmits.”
Switching his gaze back to Teff, Galzar insisted, “You must contact Savator or Ram will lay waste to what’s left of Earth.”
* * *
“Is everyone in position?” Ram asked. His gaze was fixed on the image before him. He stood at master command aboard the Dantexit, surrounded by nine of the rebel fleet’s most lethal warships. Each ship targeted a different building in the ramshackle complex now housing Protectorate Headquarters. The rebel ships were shielded. And unlike Ventori shields, Ram’s fighters were undetectable. The arrogant Ventori would have no idea they were surrounded until Ram gave the order to uncloak.
One by one the ship commanders checked in, ensuring Ram that they were ready.
“The objective is to recover your mate, not start a war with the—”
“If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Ram snapped at Moxtel. Usually, he allowed his best friend to balance his most aggressive behaviors, but the fucking Ventori had kidnapped Celeste! Ram’s gaze didn’t waver from the scattered complex displayed on the front wall of the command deck. Miniature icons of the other ships indicated their current position and assigned targets. “Contact Savator,” Ram grumbled. “Moxtel is going to have godsdamn apoplexy if I don’t give the Ventori a chance to cooperate.”
“Yes, sir,” the communications officer responded with a smirk.
Moxtel stood beside Ram tense and silent, gaze on the display.
“There is no response, sir,” the comms officer told Ram.
“Blow up an outbuilding. That should get Savator’s attention.”
Without hesitation, the tactical officer obeyed, and one of the small unoccupied buildings exploded. Before the flash dissipated from the display, the comms officer said, “I have Savator.”
“Put him through on holo.”
Rather than replacing the targeting diagram, a holographic image of the Ventori chancellor appeared in front of Ram. “What is the meaning of this?” Savator demanded.
“Return my mate or the next building that blows up will be occupied.”
“Activate the message,” Savator said to someone on his right.
Celeste’s lovely image appeared beside the chancellor’s, but the small swath of background visible in the images made it obvious they were in different rooms, maybe different locations. “Mate, please do not harm the Ventori. Galzar had no part in our departure. The Ventori thought they were rescuing us, but no harm has come to either me or Galzar. The chancellor has agreed to give you our location if you agree to a brief conversation. Please don’t make this worse than it already is.” She glanced at someone just out of range of the camera then ended with, “I know you’re angry, love, but do this for me.”
Ram growled as her image dissolved, forcing his attention back to Savator. “I have nothing to say to you. Give me the coordinates now.”
“Celeste and Galzar told me what happened,” Savator said in a calm, yet authoritative voice. “The Tavorians have collared Vikrin. He is no longer Prime Gatekeeper. His attempted coup failed, which leaves you in an awkward position. You can honestly negotiate with me, or you can—”
“I’m in the grip of bonding fever. I need my fucking mate!” Ram shouted, fists clenched at his sides. “Where is she?”
“From Earth, it will take four days to reach her location,” Savator told him. “I propose we spend that time working out a plan to wipe out as many Skarilians as possible. We both know it’s the only hope we have.”
“Then deliver the coordinates in person, but come alone.”
Savator chuckled, then shook his head. “I’m willing to offer a show of good faith, but I’m not a fool. I’ll bring my closest advisor as well as a small security team. That’s a total of six.”
“I’ll send a shuttle for your party, but I depart in ten minutes with or without you.” Ram motioned for the comms officer to terminate the connection, and the chancellor’s image blinked off. Ram turned to Moxtel. “Go get them. Scan each one. If this is a trap, kill them. Either way, get those coordinates!”
“Understood.” Moxtel left without discussion.
Ram scrubbed his jaw with one hand then began to pace. His heart thudded, and his muscles clenched and released sporadically. Four more days? It had already been almost two. How the fuck was he going to survive that long without Celeste?
As if hearing his hopeless frustration, Prime Medic Noj nudged Ram telepathically. Noj had been monitoring Ram ever since learning of the Tavorian treachery. Ram allowed Noj access to his mind, and Noj didn’t bother with pleasantries. Your vital signs are edging toward dangerous levels again. Get your ass down here and let me help you.
It’s been a long time since I ordered anyone to suck my cock. The show of dominance was not considered sexual when used within a command structure, and it wasn’t one Ram used often. Still, there were situations when the humiliating act had been particularly effective. Obviously, this was not one. What did you have in mind?
An injection and perhaps a newly programmed simulation featuring the likeness of your mate. Noj sounded annoyed by Ram’s sarcasm. The doctor hadn’t made prime medic because of his sense of humor. If you’d rather suffer, carry on.
I’ll be there momentarily. The simulation would have to wait until after Ram’s conversation with Savator, but the injection would help Ram concentrate. He told the other ships to remain in formation and headed for the primary clinic.
With his usual focus on efficiency, Noj noticed Ram arriving, administered the injection, then said, “The injection should be repeated each morning until you have access to your mate again. The simulation has been uploaded to your private library. It’s secured with your DNA, so no one else has access to it. I hope this helps.” Then he went back to work without a backward glance.
Moxtel contacted Ram a few minutes later, informing him that the shuttle was heading back with six Ventori aboard. Ram told Moxtel to escort them directly to the officers’ dining hall. Ram stood in front of the perimeter wall as his visitors entered. The expansive image displayed Protectorate Headquarters overlaid with the targeting graphic. It was unlikely the Ventori would realize the significance, but it amused Ram.
“Give me the coordinates or get off my ship.” Ram wasn’t in the mood to play nicely with anyone.
“I have th
em, sir,” Moxtel told him, determined to deescalate the tension, as usual.
“Then return to command and plot the fastest course. Bring half the ships with us. Leave the other half here to ensure that I receive what I was promised.”
“Of course, sir.” Moxtel turned and left, but as he departed, he slipped a final thought into Ram’s mind. Savator is as angry at the Tavorians as you are, and his interest in an alliance is genuine.
Ram acknowledged the information but didn’t reply. Instead, he motioned Savator toward one of the tables, ignoring his entourage. A tall, blond male accompanied Savator despite the intentional snub. That must be the Celestian, Savator’s advisor and podmate. His psychic abilities were rumored to rival Moxtel’s. Ram poured additional energy into his shields, and the Celestian smiled, apparently sensing the reaction.
Annoyed, Ram strode to the beverage dispenser and ordered a pitcher of rostau. Once the cycle finished, he took the pitcher and glasses to the table and sat facing his visitors, his back to the display. “What is the Ventori penalty for mutating the genetics of another without their consent?”
“Death,” Savator said without hesitation. “If you don’t kill Vikrin and Pryar, I will. They victimized one of my best commanders, not to mention a human female. However, the timing is what needs to be decided.”
“Do the gatekeepers need Vikrin to form the mega-gate?” Ram asked.
“Unfortunately,” Savator grumbled.
“Well, I need Pryar to complete the Yashonty coding in the transformation protocols. So I guess both executions are on hold for the time being.” Ram heaved a sigh of frustration. He had accepted that Pryar’s execution must be delayed, but he’d been hoping to carry out Vikrin’s immediately.
“Are we finished playing games with each other?” There was no rancor in Savator’s tone, just frustration and determination.
“Yes,” Ram said firmly. “We don’t have to like each other to work together.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Ram filled the glasses and slid one to Savator and then the Celestian. “Are you scanning me?”
“Not at the moment.” One corner of his mouth tipped up in a self-satisfied smirk.