Prime Selection

by Monette Michaels

  Joen nodded, raised his weapon, and indicated with an angling of his head that he’d go right.

  Nadia mouthed, “Go” and went left as Joen dove right; they let loose killing streams at the same time. She nailed her target in the torso and knocked him on his back. Joen’s man was down also.

  Joen checked on the two assassins. He turned and sliced his hand across his neck.

  Both were dead. He hurried to join her as she headed away from the Prime installation.

  “Prime?” she asked in a low, noncarrying tone as they used boulders and dips in the land to hide their retreat.

  From her quick glance, neither man had the look of a Prime male—who were almost uniformly tall, very muscular, dark-haired, and bronze-skinned with golden or amber eyes—even though they wore the Prime uniform. Some really bad juju was going on. She and her officers would try to make sense of it later—once all her people were safe and their base camp secure.

  Nadia only hoped her order to return to base camp had been received. But in case it hadn’t, she headed south to where another scouting team would’ve set up for surveillance of the military facility. She wouldn’t head back to base until she was sure all her scouts were heading in and weren’t under attack. As she and Joen moved swiftly, she listened for the high whine of laser fire.

  “Not Prime,” Joen finally answered. A sense of urgency poured off his aura.

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His normally bronze skin was more of a pale gold. He was scared—almost sick with it. “What’s wrong?” She looked around searching for the enemy and saw and felt nothing. They were alone for the time being.

  “Lia is out with one of the scouting teams.” Joen’s voice held more than concern for a fellow officer; it held gut-wrenching anguish. “She’s a doctor, a healer. She shouldn’t be here.”

  “Lia’s a trained Alliance soldier. This is exactly where she should be. Give her some credit.” Nadia would question what was going on between Lia and Joen later. “Stay alert, soldier. We have to get all our people to safety.”

  Joen’s lips firmed and his color returned—but underneath, his emotions stirred and reflected rage and determination.

  Laser fire sounded ahead of them. They increased their speed. As they sprinted from the cover of one set of rocks to the next, Nadia shoved away the pain of her wound and her worry. This was war—and her soldiers needed her.

  Sunset, Cejuru Tarn

  Whirling dust clouds danced along the valley floor. The setting sun’s rays created weird optical illusions through the haze, casting shadows over the arid land. Visibility was deteriorating at a time when the watchers on the cliff needed it most.

  Nadia selected a different colored filter on her goggles and upped the magnification to get a clearer view of the wadi. Sorting through the wavering shadows among the large rocks that littered the dry creek bed, she located the two humanoid-shaped figures she’d lost for a few seconds in the glare of the day’s last gasp. The duo slunk from rock to rock in a furtive manner; they wore Prime military camouflage.

  Jury was still out on whether they were actually Prime soldiers or not. Her vote was “not.”

  “What do you think, Nadia? Friend or foe?” asked Commander A’tem, a Volusian member of her training team and the chief engineer on her former ship, the Starship Leonidas. He was her partner for her third scouting mission of the day.

  God, she was tired. The pain of her laser wound was a constant reminder of the potential of danger. There’d be no rest until she had a handle on this clusterfuck. Pushing her goggles up, she turned away from the scene below and focused on A’tem’s emotionless face.

  His pale blue skin glowed in the lowering light. His demeanor was calm and alert.

  But underneath the facade he was boiling mad; his anger had texture as it vibrated over her skin and made her itch.

  Nadia snorted. “Foe until proven otherwise.” She replaced the goggles and focused on the scene below.

  Her team had suffered numerous casualties during the surprise attack just after sunrise. Three of her injured were in critical condition and fighting for their lives back at base camp. Someone had to pay. But who? That was the sticky issue.

  The action reports from the less severely wounded had been divided as to whether the ones who’d shot them were Prime or not. The bodies of the enemy dead—so far—had been non-Prime males dressed in Prime uniforms. That didn’t mean the enemy soldiers who’d gotten away weren’t Prime. She’d rather err on the side of caution.

  “The only Prime I trust on this rock,” she added, “are the ones assigned to Gold Squadron. Mel and Wulf vetted them all and weeded out potential rebels. Any Prime soldier on this piece of shit planetoid not a member of a Gold ship’s crew is the enemy until proven otherwise.”

  The culling of the Prime soldiers who’d been merged into the Gold Squadron had occurred as the result of several treacherous acts. The last such act had occurred a little over two weeks ago. Nadia along with Mel Dmitros-Caradoc, her longtime friend and the Galanti’s co-captain, had been the victims of a kidnapping from the home of the treacherous aunt of the Galanti’s other co-captain and Mel’s mate, Wulf Caradoc. The two women had been taken and roughed up by the Pure Blood rebels.

  “I agree.” A’tem’s voice rang with certainty and his ire. His cousin was one of the severely injured being cared for by Lia.

  Something in his voice had Nadia once again shoving her goggles up. She glanced at the Volusian with whom she’d served for many years in the Alliance Military. His normally silver-blue eyes were as dark as midnight, reflecting his tangible need for revenge. Volusians, like the Prime, were a warrior race. This sneaking around went against his nature and training. A’tem would much rather roar his family’s battle cry and take the enemy head on.

  She could relate. Her Siberian ancestors were all warriors and had managed to survive the twenty-first century Armageddon on Earth. Later they had been instrumental in bringing back stability to the remaining inhabitants in lower Siberia, often having to use draconian methods to do so. Tough situations had called for tough methods until the order of civilization had once again reigned. Her nature, her nurture, had led her to the Alliance military. And while she was a science officer, a job she loved, and spent most of her time discovering and documenting the secrets of the galaxy, she had no problem taking the fight to the enemy when appropriate.

  That time would come soon.

  Laying a hand on A’tem’s tense shoulder, she squeezed. “Patience, my friend. We can’t go on the offense yet. We don’t know for sure who the enemy is and how many of them we might have to fight.”

  Nadia pulled her goggles back down and turned to continue to track the two prowling along the valley floor. “We go by the book. When dropped into enemy territory, we evade. Establish and defend security perimeters. Gather information. Take out any enemy straying into our protected area. Survive until help arrives. Then we go on the offensive.”

  “Agreed.” A’tem’s tone said he really didn’t.

  He wanted to rush down into the valley and kill the enemy. But he’d hold the line, follow orders.

  To her astonishment, so far the Prime under her command had done the same. Her decision to send the scouting teams back to base camp earlier had saved lives. Her risking her skin to make sure her soldiers made it safely back to camp had earned her respect.

  She’d impressed the notoriously chauvinistic Prime—for now.

  Prime warriors weren’t used to following orders issued by a woman. She had the feeling she’d have to continue to prove herself worthy of their deference. The meshing of the Prime military into the Alliance was still too new.

  “Who do you think the enemy is?” A’tem’s piercing, navy-blue gaze focused on the valley. His Volusian vision was different than a Terran’s—he could see the two furtive shadows without the aid of specialized goggles. A trait she’d love to have; the goggles were heavy and bruised her nose and cheekbones when worn for t
oo long.

  Nadia remained silent for several seconds. “Not sure. I suspect the real soldiers are either captured or dead. The ones who attacked us are probably mercenaries hired by the Pure Blood fanatics. They would love to cause a galactic incident and damage the new treaty between the Prime and the Galactic Alliance.” God, I hate fanatics.

  She angled her head toward the two men on the valley floor; they wandered up and down the dry riverbed in a standard search pattern. “Those two aren’t Prime military, that’s for damn sure. While they have some military training, they’re searching the low ground when any Prime soldier who’d trained on Tarn would look to the high ground and the caves hidden among the rocks. They aren’t familiar with this planetoid at all.”

  “I concur.” A’tem turned away from the activity below and looked at her through narrowed eyes. “An Alliance or Prime-trained soldier also wouldn’t have tipped their hand so soon. Instead, they should’ve lured us into the war games and annihilated us during mock battle. By acting prematurely, they’ve allowed us to gain the better defensive and ultimately offensive position.”

  “Exactly,” Nadia said. “They hurt us, but we’ve recovered quickly due to superior training. With our better knowledge of the terrain, thanks to our squad’s Prime soldiers, we’ll be able to hang on until Mel and Wulf realize we haven’t reported in.”

  Unfortunately, Nadia still couldn’t radio for help. Whoever the enemy were, they had control of the military facility and had blocked all off-planet communications.

  For a short, chaotic period after the surprise attack, Gold’s com units didn’t work.

  But once back at base camp, Joen had managed to overcome the com unit block. He was currently working on fixing the off-planet communication issue.

  “We’re lucky Commander Dakkin was scheduled for this joint training. If anyone can get the off-planet communications up and running, it will be him. Only Iolyn Caradoc could do better,” said A’tem.

  “Luck is all well and good, but Lady Luck’s a fickle bitch. I’d rather rely on brains and training.” Deciding the two clueless mercs in the valley were no danger to her people sheltering in the caves, Nadia turned to A’tem. “Let’s finish setting up the perimeter alarms Aeron and I rigged. With any of that luck you mentioned, we might run across our missing team members.”

  Renewed grief—and anger—streaked through her. Nadia was missing six soldiers— two Terran females from the Renard and four Prime newly assigned to that particular Gold Squadron battle cruiser. They hadn’t answered after the intrateam communications had been re-established. Nor had they made their way to base camp.

  Remaining on her stomach so as not to skyline herself, Nadia wiggled her way off the cliff’s edge. “If the fuckers make a mistake and attempt to search the high ground, they’ll not leave alive. No more of our people will be harmed or go missing—we defend what’s ours.”

  She and Aeron had incorporated some explosive surprises into their perimeter security. Aeron’s choice of caves had proven to be serendipitous with the Prime military base’s overstock of food, medical supplies, and explosives and other munitions. They could hold out for a very long time if they had to.

  A’tem captured her narrowed gaze with his navy one. “No mercy to the traitors and their hired killers. It is a good policy—very Prime and Volusian.”

  “And very, very Siberian.” Yeah, the Prime as a race underestimated Terrans and especially Terran women. This joint training should go part of the way toward dispelling that ignorance.

  Nothing like getting dumped in head first, eh, Nadia?

  Her arm throbbed as the local Lia had given her had begun to wear off. But she couldn’t stop and rest, couldn’t give in to the pain … she had her soldiers to protect. She also had a responsibility to represent all Terran female soldiers well. No pressure. Yeah, right.

  Nadia let out a sigh and rubbed the back of her neck. Her head pounded so much she was forced to let go of the shields she’d built around a newfound psi ability; the energy she used to maintain the walls tapped into her reserves. She’d strengthened the mental walls two weeks ago when Huw Caradoc had held her naked against him after he and Wulf had come to her and Mel’s aid. She wasn’t only extremely sensitive to his emotions, but was also telepathic with him—and only him.

  Since then, the stubborn ass, while always cordial and polite, ignored the psychic connection between them and the intense attraction they had for one another.

  With Tarn at the outer edge of the habitability zone of the Cejuru solar system, Huw was over six standard hours away; he couldn’t sense her—and she couldn’t sense or feel him denying the bond between them .

  Grow a thicker skin, Nadia Petrovich. The man has tunnel vision about mating a Prime female—and you ain’t Prime.

  The relief from lowering her shields was immediate. Her headache lessened, and she obtained a second wind.

  Yet, as soon as her shields were down, some deep-rooted urge had her seeking the connection she shared with Huw.

  All she found was a bleak blackness. The resulting pain was soul deep.

  What did you expect? The man is hundreds of thousands of kilometers away on the main planet. He’s at that party for Wulf and Mel—probably has some Prime sex surrogate on his arm. Later, he’ll go home and have sex with her … she’s Prime. You’re not.

  Jealousy. Anger. Grief. The emotions overwhelmed Nadia. She closed her eyes, well aware A’tem watched her curiously.

  “Nadia…” A’tem’s soft voice and light touch on her back brought her outside of herself. “You okay? You looked deadly there for a moment. I sensed … more rage in you than before. Then sadness … you were so deeply sad.”

  Dammit. I won’t let whatever in the hell this connection is turn me into a weepy woman pining for a man.

  “Not rage … fighting mad. There’s a difference.” That the mad was not only aimed at the enemy, but also at Huw “stubborn as a jackass” Caradoc and the thought of him having sex with a woman who wasn’t her … well, A’tem didn’t need to know that.

  Her lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “I’m fine. Let’s finish setting up the perimeter defenses. I could use some food, and my arm needs some further attention.”

  Nadia was back in control again. She didn’t need to touch Huw’s mind to do her job, to protect her soldiers. She was a goddamn decorated Alliance officer.

  And soon the enemy, the Prime, and Huw “blind as a fricking bat” Caradoc would learn there was nothing more deadly than a pissed off Siberian female who could trace her ancestry back to the early days of Terran history when Attila the Hun had ruled all of Asia and parts of Europe.

  Chapter 2

  Cejuru Prime, Premier Caradoc’s Ballroom

  The ivory, gold, and black circular-shaped Caradoc family ballroom was crowded, so crowded that the yellow-liveried servants had opened the doors to the terrace that lined the outside curve of the house.

  Mel inhaled deeply; she could smell the flowers growing on the terraced gardens that bordered one small arc of the porch. The same gardens she and Wulf’s mother Beria had picked flowers from for tonight’s dinner tables now had armed guards hidden among the blooms in case any of the rebel faction decided to crash the party. The rest of the terrace was built for defense and faced a deep drop to a rock-strewn river that swept to the distant moonlit ocean. It was a breathtaking view and one she’d like to enjoy with Wulf, but that was not what they were there for. Their job was to mingle with the tall Prime males in their dark formal wear and the few ladies in their brightly colored gowns.

  She hated mingling, hated crowds. Crowds provided too many chances for people to shove up against you and stab you in the back.

  No one, however, had managed to make it close enough to her to do any sort of damage. Wulf, her overprotective gemat, had scared most people off. He’d glared and growled more tonight than he had since he first pulled her out of his ship’s maintenance tunnel traps.

  “Melina,” Wul
f whispered against her ear, “let’s leave. I must see what you have on under that dress.”

  Her Prime mate and the man she shared command with over the Gold Squadron, and the heir-apparent to the ruler of Cejuru solar system, slid his hand down her mostly naked back to cup her rear. His sharp inhalation made her smile. He now realized she wore nothing underneath the skintight creation.

  “You are in so much trouble, gemate lubha.” Wulf patted her bottom and slid his arm around her waist, where he massaged her through the thin, silky fabric.

  “You love this dress.” Mel turned into his big, warm, well-muscled body. He looked very handsome in his dark suit with a pristine white collarless shirt closed at the top with a jeweled pin featuring his family’s royal crest. She traced the wolf-like creature on the pin and brushed a kiss over his chiseled jaw. “And you especially like it when I’m naked under my clothing. Admit it.” She nipped his chin, then soothed the spot with her tongue, uncaring that others stared. “It took you all evening to figure it out, though. You’re slipping.”

  Wulf eyed the room populated with Prime Elder Council members and their families and myriad members of the various branches of the Caradoc family. He growled low, in the back of his throat. She let out an exasperated breath. This was one of his kill-someone snarls, not one of the I-want-to-fuck-you growls. His aura read as jealous of male eyes on her—and of fear.

  “Wulf?” She stroked the muscle pulsing in his jaw. “Are you sensing a danger I’m not?”

  She opened her empathic abilities to the room and found no trace of a killing rage, just some low-level animosity, lots of curiosity, and a goodly amount of jealousy aimed in their direction. She shared her findings with him telepathically, but his tension remained. She attempted to access his thoughts through the psi connection that was a part of their unique battle-mate bond, but his prodigious mental shields were up. “Talk to me.”