by S. E. Smith
“Do you have any regrets?” Destin asked, tightening his grasp on her hand when she started to pull away.
“No,” Sula replied, staring into his eyes.
The corner of Destin’s lips moved upward and his eyes glimmered with an expression of satisfaction. He released her and sat back in his seat. A wry expression crossed his face and he turned his head to stare out of the window into the blackness of space.
“Good,” he finally said, turning back to look at her. “I was ready to fight if you tried to tell me you didn’t enjoy it as much as I did.”
“Oh, I enjoyed it very much,” Sula retorted, flushing a darker blue at her impulsive response.
She could feel the heat intensify when Destin chuckled. Her lips pressed together at his slightly smug expression. That he could so easily cause her to lose her composure made a flash of irritation sweep through her.
“Where did you get the game?” he asked, nodding to the wooden toy.
“From a human nurse named Chelsea,” Sula replied, picking up the pegs and inserting them into the wooden board. “When I was on your planet, I caught a horrible virus that made me miserable. I was afraid, because I was inoculated against all known diseases, but I guess it did not work for the cold virus. It had been a long time since I felt so poorly. I went to the healer on my assigned base for medical attention. Chelsea attended to me and became my friend. I hope to see her again when we arrive. I have a gift for her. She gave me this game and several files which I found to be very helpful.”
“What kind of files?” Destin asked, curiously.
Sula’s face darkened again and she looked down at the game again. “Files to help me understand humans better,” she murmured, reluctant to explain exactly which ones.
“Documentaries?” Destin pressed as if sensing she was holding back from telling him everything.
“Yes. Well, some of them,” she replied, biting her lower lip and peeking at him through her lashes. “Some were called romances. I wanted to know why she and her mate pressed their lips to each other. It did not look like it was done to help the other breathe, but as a sign of affection. I thought it important to gather as much information as I could about humans while I was assigned to your world. This was an area I did not think to research before I arrived.”
“What other files were there? You said ‘some of them’,” Destin asked, sitting forward and pulling the game toward him.
“They were more detailed instructional files about human mating rituals,” she stated with a shrug of her shoulders. “They were interesting, but I enjoyed the romance files better. I did give the other files to my brothers, who appear to be enjoying them from the number of requests I have received for more, now that they have discovered I am returning to your world. I swear I wouldn’t be surprised if Sirius ends up appearing at my quarters. His questions are irritating.”
“What type of questions?” Destin asked, pausing in the act of jumping over one of the pegs in her game.
Sula waved her hand in the air. “Sirius is an ignoramus. I have given up trying to understand his questions and usually delete them if they are not relevant to my assignment. You have to understand my brother; he is always trying to get me in trouble. I learned at a very young age to avoid his traps,” she responded, frowning at the single peg remaining on the wooden game board. “How did you do that?!”
A devilish grin curved Destin’s lips and he sat forward. “Come back to my living quarters and I’ll show you,” he suggested.
Sula’s lips twitched in response. “Something tells me this might take a while to learn,” she teased, suggestively stroking one of the pegs.
Destin’s eyes narrowed and he laid his hand over hers. “You are dangerous,” he murmured. “What’s even more worrisome is that now you know it.”
Sula twisted her hand under his and stroked his palm. “I do my research,” she retorted, not backing down.
She pulled her hand free, taking the game with her. She quickly returned the items to the clear bag before sliding it into a larger one. Slipping out of her chair, she smiled at Destin. Her gaze ran over him and she could feel the heat rising again.
“Damn, Sula,” Destin swore under his breath, standing up and adjusting his pants. “You keep looking at me like that and we might not make it back to my quarters.”
The warrior sitting in the corner sat up and grinned at them. It was only then that she realized the other two couples already left. Besides Destin and her, there was only the warrior who she suspected had been awake since the moment Destin entered the room. She refused to be intimidated. Instead, she stepped closer to Destin, reaching up to brush a kiss across his lips even as her hand brushed across the front of his jeans.
“I wonder if the lift has a surveillance camera,” she whispered, turning and walking toward the door.
Her chin lifted and she kept her focus forward when she heard Destin’s muttered curse and soft threat. The smile she had been hiding grew when he quickly caught up to her and wrapped his arm around her. She would have plenty of time later to do the research her father assigned to her. For now, she was going to enjoy doing research of a different kind.
10
Over the next several months, Destin and Sula’s life fell into a daily routine that he found enjoyable. Since the first day aboard the Star Raider, there was an unspoken agreement between them: when they were not attending to their assigned duties, they spent their time together. Fortunately, Sula was able to modify her work schedule around his so they could be together more often.
Destin enjoyed the challenges of learning new things. Life aboard an alien spaceship gave him an appreciation for the complexities of running a self-sustaining habitat. On the trip to Rathon, he had been recovering from his injuries and spent most of his time in his cabin working on issues regarding Earth or in the training room working out.
This time, he was assigned a job which gave him a better understanding of what life on a spaceship was really like since he went to every section as part of his daily duties. He understood the difficulty of running a close-knit community from his own challenges on Earth, but this was a true Ecosphere. Each person was responsible for a specific task and held accountable because it meant the survival of everyone.
His assignment was minor, helping with the maintenance of the waste disposal units. He was pleasantly surprised when he discovered Sula in the Communications center. One of her specialties was frequencies and space noise, much like a radar technician on a submarine. She was responsible for monitoring the different frequencies to make sure there were no cosmic threats.
“I swear I have never seen a man grin as much as you do,” Trig complained, rolling his head on his shoulders. “I will be glad when we arrive on your world tomorrow. I am almost sick of being on here. This is why I’ve always steered away from this division.”
“And that makes four hundred eighty-one times you’ve said that,” Destin remarked dryly, dumping the last of the trash into the incinerator before replacing the container.
Trig grinned. “I’m still under the five hundred mark you bet me,” he retorted, leaning back against the wall, his smile fading. “Things are going to be different when we get to Earth, you know.”
“How so? I’m not going to have you up my ass all the time?” Destin asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Actually, I’ll be so far up it that you won’t be able to take a shit without me knowing about it,” Trig replied lightly.
Destin released a sigh and shook his head. “Where did you learn that phrase?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Your current flame has been sharing some of her cultural verbiage with me – plus, I hang with Jordan regularly just to piss off my brother,” Trig stated. “That means to irritate him, by the way.”
“I know what being pissed off means,” Destin replied dryly. “I swear if you start talking like a surfer, they’ll never miss the fact you didn’t make it down to the planet – and what did you mean my cur
rent flame? Have you been bothering Sula again?”
Trig shook his head. “She has assured me that I am not bothering her,” he replied, straightening. “I meant what I said; things will be more difficult once we are down on the planet.”
Destin frowned. “Everything has been quiet. I thought you said that there were no other reports on the Waxian or Drethulans,” he commented, walking past Trig and pressing the controls to ignite the disposal unit.
“They found the man who attacked Razor’s dwellings,” Trig stated.
Destin frowned. “When did that happen? Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, pausing to stare at the other man.
Trig pressed his lips together and shrugged. “A couple of weeks ago. There was nothing to tell. The man was very resistant to talking. Of course, he was already dead, so that was a contributing factor. Unless you know how to survive in the forests of our world, you won’t last long,” he said with a wry grimace.
Destin shot Trig a disgusted glare before turning away. “Considering I was almost killed in the attack, I think I should have been told,” he replied with a sarcastic bite to his voice. “What about the ship, or are you not allowed to share that with me either?”
Trig grunted and leaned against the console. “Razor said I might as well tell you, otherwise Kali would. I think he has given up on trying to keep Jordan from hacking into the system. He has finally hired her to keep everyone else out, but of course, she relays information to whoever she wants to, which usually includes Jesse, Taylor, and Kali,” he said.
“That’s great, and…,” Destin snapped, throwing his hand up in the air with a twist to show he wanted Trig to get to the point.
“They were able to retrieve information from the transport that was on the beach,” Trig said. “It came from Dises V, and there were communication logs linked between the transport and a Waxian named Prymorus Achler. From the little that Ajaska was able to relay to us, the bastard has a personal vendetta against Trivators, especially Razor and Hunter. Razor is trying to find out more, but we do know that the Waxian is the one who was behind Taylor’s kidnapping.”
Destin paused in what he was doing to study Trig. The familiar, blank mask had settled over the Trivator’s face. The nagging feeling that something bigger was going on continued to eat at Destin to the point that he had already decided to part ways with the man once they were on Earth. He didn’t need cryptic messages or uncertainty undermining his own men.
“I’ve had enough, Trig. If you and the others won’t tell me honestly what the fuck is going on, leave me alone or I’ll throw your ass in Chicago’s worst jail. Trust works both ways. Either you trust me and share the information you know, or you stay the fuck away from me. I don’t play games,” Destin stated in a blunt, measured tone.
Trig’s mouth tightened and for a second, Destin thought the other man would remain stubbornly silent. He didn’t look away. This was the moment of truth. All the rules changed once they were off the ship.
“What I tell you will sound unbelievable,” Trig warned, pausing again.
Destin’s jaw tightened. “Do you really think I haven’t dealt with some unbelievable shit in the last seven years?” he retorted.
Trig shook his head. “It isn’t that Razor doesn’t trust you, Destin,” he replied in a quiet voice. “It’s more like we are trying to figure out what is going on.”
Confusion swept through Destin. He could see the flicker of indecision in the other man’s eyes. Something told him this didn’t happen often for Trig. He swallowed the caustic retort that had risen, instead waiting for Trig to continue.
“I’m listening,” he finally said.
Trig nodded, glancing down at the console again and rested his arms on the top of it. “I’ll try to make this as brief as possible, and if I’m lucky, without too much confusion. We don’t know much about the Kassisans. They came into the Alliance a few years ago, but have been more observers than a participants. It was only recently that we, or I should say I, have found out much about their capabilities,” he stated.
“You don’t sound too happy about it,” Destin observed.
“I’m not. I don’t like any species who could potentially rival the Trivators. The close relationship between the Kassisans and the Elpidiosians makes them a superpower,” Trig muttered with a shake of his head.
“Ajaska didn’t give me the impression he was interested in going to war against the Trivators or the Alliance,” Destin commented. “If anything, he appeared to want to help.”
Trig nodded. “Yes,” he said.
“So, what seems to be the issue? And… why all the melodrama?” Destin demanded with a wave of his hand. “If the threat with the Waxians and Drethulans turns out to be as bad as Razor and the others seem to think, then having a superpower on your side is a good thing. I know it would have made my fight on Earth a helluva lot easier if I’d had the Trivators on my side,” he added bitterly before he broke off and pushed away from the console.
“Ajaska warned us that your life would be in danger and that it was of paramount importance that nothing happens to you. Razor assigned me to protect you.”
Destin frowned and stared at Trig in disbelief. His life was in danger. Hell, when had it not been? Kali and he grew up on the streets, running them from the time they could walk until well after the Trivators announced their arrival and the Earth had dissolved into a fiery pit of hell and destruction. Now, the Trivators thought he needed a damn babysitter? Shaking his head, he crossed his arms and glared back at Trig.
“I hate to tell you this, but you are about twenty-four years too late on the babysitting job,” he replied sarcastically. “I’ll give my mom credit for the first two years of my life.”
“Razor thought this was different,” Trig replied with a shrug.
“Who am I supposed to be in danger from and what exactly did Ajaska say to make Razor think I might be in danger?” Destin asked with a skeptical expression.
“We don’t know,” Trig admitted, reaching up and running his hands through his hair in aggravation. “The damn Kassisan was pretty tight-lipped. The only thing he would say was that you were in danger and we needed to keep you alive for the future sake of your planet.”
“For the future sake….” Destin shook his head.
“Yeah, well, we’ve been trying to anticipate how this or that factor might affect an outcome we don’t even know the details of. All we know is you’ve got to live through what’s coming,” Trig said with a frustrated sigh.
Destin released a dry, rough chortle, and dropped his arms to his side. “News flash… My life was already in danger. I killed the man who was trying to kill me, and Chicago is being rebuilt. Ajaska missed the memo or forgot to send it out before reality hit. Plus, I already have a team in place to watch my back. I trust them – as much as I can trust anyone. I like you, Trig. I think you are a good man, but I’ve learned that even those you know aren’t always what they appear to be. Go find someone else to piss off – that means to irritate in case you didn’t know. I’ve got enough going on without tripping over your ass all the time.”
“Tough shit.”
Destin heard Trig’s muttered reply, but ignored it. Once they were on the planet, he didn’t answer to anyone, including the Trivator he had come to respect. He turned on his heel and strode out the door of the Disposal Unit. He could feel the tension growing inside him the closer they got to Earth. He was looking forward to returning home, but he was also feeling the stress of what it could mean for Sula and him.
He had been putting off discussing what her position on Earth would be, deciding they had plenty of time before they arrived to do that. It was hard to believe that they were almost out of time. He ran his hand over the back of his neck. A lot had changed over the last two years on Earth. Unfortunately, the feelings toward the aliens was not one of them. Many of the residents and those who had worked and fought with him did not believe that the Trivators were the good guys. They sure as hell wer
e not going to open their arms to Sula – a Usoleum councilor who would remind them of Badrick.
Dropping his hand to his side, he veered in the opposite direction from his initial destination. He needed a quiet place to think. On a ship, that was not easy to find, even in the designated quiet rooms. Turning again, he stepped into one of the lifts.
“Level thirty-two,” he murmured, leaning back against the wall.
A minute later, he was exiting onto Level Thirty-two. He nodded to several warriors when he passed them. Turning left, he paused long enough for the door to open. He drew in a deep breath and glanced around the training room. It was teeming with warriors. Some sparred while others worked out. While the room might be well occupied, there were still some places where he preferred to go that they could not.
Rolling his head on his shoulders, he loosened the muscles in his arms. He drew in several deep, calming breaths, mapping the room in his mind. Bench, mat, far bench, footrail, metal framing, ventilation ducts. The move formed in his mind and replayed over and over until he mentally closed everyone and everything else out.
He walked to a spot by the wall several feet from two long benches. A large sparring mat sat in the middle of the room. The farthest bench ended at the corner of the room. Taking off at a run, Destin jumped on the first bench, and ran across it before he did a flip off the end. He tumbled across the mat and jumped onto the second bench at top speed, one foot on the seat, then the back before he rotated in midair and grabbed the bottom of a footrail that was connected to an access ladder almost a foot above his head.
Destin pulled himself up, climbing to the top and stepping onto the large support beam that ran across the length of the training room. He ignored the chuckles and exclamations from under him. With a silent wave to the men below, he sprinted across it to the ventilation access. He pulled up on the metal rod holding it closed, opened the grating, and disappeared inside. Behind him, the metal door snapped closed.
