Xander (The Nova Force Book 1)

by Vivienne Savage

  Thandie gritted her teeth and refused to cry out. As he completed the final pop, sensation exploded beneath the bone and raced down her spine to the tips of her toes.

  “Finished.” When she glanced up, anger flashed in his eyes. “Next time Viljoen comes after you with an invitation to spar, I suggest you accept and begin the match by kicking him in the groin.”

  “So unsportsmanlike, Doc.” Moisture clung to the corners of her eyes, trapped by her lashes.

  “Hey.” The hands that had hurt her so much became tender. A comforting weight that stroked down her bare arm. “If you thought half the things about me that I think you did just now, then you know I’m right. Go ahead and sit up, roll your shoulder.”

  Thandie’s head swiveled around to face him again. She stared, wide-eyed and alarmed. “You’re not a psychic, right?” Between her lusty thoughts and her wishes for him to walk out of an open airlock, she’d never find a hole deep enough to hide in.

  “Not at all, Kruger. I just know how to read faces. I’ve been a doctor for a while now. I’ve also been called a lot of things in plenty of languages over the past couple years, and facial expressions are more honest than words.”

  It took a moment to roll up into a seated position. Thandie quickly swiped at her eyes when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

  “I might have thought some unflattering things for a minute there. Sadist came to mind.” She smiled to soften the admission. “But it does feel better, so thanks for that.”

  “You probably won’t think that in a couple hours.” He plucked up his tablet and scribbled with the stylus. “Let your supervising officer know that you’ll be off duty while that settles. No sparring, all right? There’s a prescription waiting for you, as well.”

  “I’m guessing target practice is also out?” Thandie shrugged back into her coveralls and zipped them up.

  “You guessed right. Maybe you should apply to med school.”

  She rubbed at her arm and slipped down to her feet. “Funny, Doc.”

  “Glad to be of help. I fixed the misalignment, but the damage Viljoen dealt to the tissues needs time to heal. If it doesn’t feel right after two or three days, come back and I’ll make time to see you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Thandie’s medication waited for her at the counter. She signed for the pills and headed out. The lift took her three decks down and she headed directly for her supervisor’s open office door. After checking in with her medical orders, she headed for her room.

  At the first water station along the way, she paused to take her allotted pain meds, looking forward to a painless, drugged slumber.

  Like all other enlisted personnel, she bunked with five other people. Three shared the day schedule and the others worked nights. Thanks to the personalized sleep bays in each dorm, the ladies could chat and use the communal space freely without waking their slumbering companions.

  That especially counted for rendezvous with crewmembers of the opposite sex. Or sometimes the same sex. Opaque glass partitions surrounded each bed. Adjustable settings could make them completely soundproof and absolutely private. At least, they were private until some half-dressed serviceman stumbled out with his uniform over his shoulder and his boots in one hand.

  “You’re back early.”

  “Doctor Vargas took me off duty,” Thandie replied.

  “Hottie Vargas? Do tell. What’s he like up close? I’ve only seen him while serving his meals in the officers’ mess. I swear, it’s about time we got a male doctor who wasn’t a thousand years old.”

  “Er….”

  Daksha didn’t wait for Thandie to answer. “My cousin Padma is on the Glenn, and she recognized his name immediately. All the girls were crazy about him there too, right? Guess what she told me. You’ll never guess, Thandie.”

  “Guess what? He seemed nice enough. Fixed my arm right up.”

  “A few years ago, he was supposed to marry some hotshot captain on the ship. Supposedly, he dumped her a month before the date for—get this—an Eloran!” Daksha announced.

  Angela wrinkled her nose. “He’s into aliens? That’s disgusting.”

  The intensity of their reaction took Thandie by surprise. She blinked at them. “What’s wrong with aliens? Some of them are very nice.”

  Angela cleared her throat and focused on her painted nails. “There’s nothing wrong with them, I suppose. Personally, I don’t see the appeal. Do we even have compatible parts? Elorans are fish peope, and I mean, the Lexar may look like us, but I heard they have two dicks.”

  Daksha mimed gagging. “Ew. I heard that, too. I guess that explains a lot if he’s a xenophile. He’d rather have gills and scales over a real woman.”

  “Come on, Thandie. You’ve met him up close and in person. What did you think?” Angela persisted.

  “I think he knows his job.” And he has a nice smile. “I was there in pain. Staring at the good-looking doctor wasn’t high on my list of priorities. Sorry.”

  “Oh you’re no fun. C’mon, tell us. Are his hands as nice as they say? I saw him once after he arrived, but it was for a cold. But if he was looking at your arm, he must have touched you.” Angela leaned forward eagerly.

  “Like I said, pain. Pain I’m still feeling, so if you’ll excuse me, I just wanna get changed and hit the hay. These drugs are making me loopy.” The drugs had yet to affect her coherence, but she had no intention of continuing the current conversation.

  Angela sighed. “Oh. Okay, I guess we can talk about it tomorrow then. Get some rest.”

  Thandie nodded, forced a smile, then moved over to her assigned bunk.

  “Oh, Thandie?” Angela piped up before Thandie managed to crawl into bed. “Do you think I could borrow that gold top I spotted in your locker at our next port?”

  Thandie eye-rolled and pretended not to hear her, shutting the door to the privacy pod surrounding her bed. As she settled down, she did have to agree with one thing: Doctor Vargas was extremely easy on the eyes.

  Ten minutes after Thandie Kruger left his exam room, Xander was still hard as a fucking probe. There was something about her smile—no, not just the smile, it had been the entire package, including those dimpled cheeks and her honey-brown eyes.

  He retreated to his office and sank into the desk chair, breathing hard and waiting for the Mating Frenzy to subside. He’d made it through a thirty-minute exam with her. He could make it a few minutes longer. Just wait it out. Let it fade.

  Xander dragged in deep breaths through his nostrils, let his lungs expand, and tilted his head back with his eyes closed. Think of surgery. Sterile, boring, run-of-the-mill surgery. Something mundane.

  Ingrown toenail removal. Dull as it came. He’d done two of those since coming to the Jemison.

  Thandie’s feet were probably perfect and flawless. Kissable.

  Ugh. What the fuck? He wasn’t even attracted to feet. That was the problem with the Frenzy—it was wild and unpredictable, wholly irrational.

  Intentionally putting her through pain had been a sort of hell. Her every wince had shot through him like a knife and he could only be grateful she hadn’t cried out. He might have stopped altogether and been unable to perform his job.

  Then again, her pain had been the only thing that kept his demeanor professional and prevented him from whipping his dick out. He didn’t need to be court-martialed for exposing himself to a patient.

  Breathe, man, breathe. This time, it did fade, though it left him exhausted and drained in every way, emotionally, physically, and mentally.

  This had never happened before. Hell, he hadn’t even realized he had enough Lexar DNA to succumb to their strange mating rituals. In the alien culture, men entered a sort of male heat when around a special female, and they’d do anything, including battles with rival males, proving their sexual prowess, hunting for her, or displaying an aptitude for her favorite arts if it meant she might love him.

  But from what he’d understood, that only counted for Lex
ar females.

  He pulled up Thandie’s file again on his personal station. Not a drop of Lexar blood in her ancestry. She was completely human, aside from the splicing.

  In fact, he’d seen her before, though that was two years ago when he’d stepped into the OR to assist the surgeon tasked with rebuilding her shoulder. The man had been an arrogant asshole, claiming the shoulder couldn’t be saved—that she wasn’t a suitable candidate.

  One of the nurses had rushed to get Xander from his office at the facility before old Commander Wilhelm canceled the procedure and had her wheeled to recovery.

  He still remembered the asshole’s words to him.

  “Waste of time.”

  “It’ll never withstand shock.”

  “You can’t rebuild that shoulder. It’ll be kinder to discharge her now.”

  Xander had taken one look at her face and known somehow that she was a woman who wanted her naval career, and then he’d spent almost eighteen hours piecing together and reconstructing her shoulder from fucking scratch because even the bones attached to it had been damaged to all hell.

  Not once throughout the entire surgery had he felt attracted to her. Had it been because he’d already been in love at the time?

  Or was it because Thandie had been passed the fuck out?

  Times like this made Xander wish he’d known his father better. Made him wish all the more that the man hadn’t been murdered in cold blood, or that his mother hadn’t died in a shuttle wreck years afterward. Made him wish he knew something more about the people who shared 50% of his DNA than the standard shit they learned about them in textbooks.

  She was a patient. It couldn’t go anywhere.

  He didn’t need another wife.

  Losing one had been enough.

  Chapter Four

  Cool light gleamed from the debriefing room’s ceiling, illuminating the faces of stoic officers gathered to discuss plans for their next mission. Ethan and Amelia, his second-in-command, had called the emergency meeting only minutes ago.

  An oversized map dominated the room’s center, displaying a three-dimensional representation of the galaxy and its countless systems.

  Ethan tapped a button on his console and zoomed in, then tiny pinpricks of light blinked to life, interspersed with radiant suns and an assortment of planets. One glowing blip depicted the Jemison and another bright yellow icon displayed their next destination three days away. “Yesterday, United Command received a request from the capital city on Loki 4 to check their sister colony on the orbiting moon. They’re unresponsive.”

  “Do they lack ships of their own?” Xander inquired.

  Oshiro turned in his seat to look at him. “Loki 4 is a green civilization site. The moon colony was founded with help from the Lexar to reduce overcrowding on the planetary surface.”

  Commander Viljoen folded his arms against his chest. “Figures the Lexar would stick their noses in where they weren’t wanted then beat it without offering further help.”

  Amelia’s disapproving look silenced him. Xander decided he liked his new executive officer. A lot. “This isn’t the time, Commander.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “Now that we’re back on track, let’s discuss the mission. We will investigate the issue and lend aid if required. Commodore Bishop and I have discussed possibilities at length for your squads.” Amelia swiped a hand across her tablet and brought up a holographic display that projected over the center of the table. An identification photo of a young blonde appeared above a list of military achievements.

  “Saskia DuPrie is one of the splicers we picked up from our rendezvous with the Noriega five days ago. She’s been trained for reconnaissance and her camouflage ability is one of the best I’ve ever come across. Took me weeks to get her transferred to my ship,” Ethan said.

  Viljoen grunted. “Acceptable.”

  Ethan clicked again. Another photo appeared. “Sergeant Thandie Kruger. Sniper. She underwent voluntary gene splicing after her enlistment and came out with eagle vision. Doesn’t need a scope to hit her target.”

  “I’d rather take Henley,” Viljoen disagreed, arms crossed over his chest. Another photograph hovered above the table.

  “I examined Kruger’s cybernetic arm. It’s top of the line,” Xander spoke up. “She can handle a lot of weapons without stress.”

  “Maybe so, but she hasn’t seen combat since she lost her arm,” Viljoen replied.

  “Then the young woman must feel anxious to return to combat duty,” Oshiro said mildly.

  “How about Upstead?” Amelia suggested. “Steadiest arm I know. His upgrades aren’t the latest model, but they’re still good and reliable.”

  Viljoen shook his head. “Steady arm, true, but too slow. I need someone who isn’t weighed down by implants.”

  So that’s his game, is it? Xander squeezed his coffee cup a little too hard. The crushed cardboard sloshed hot liquid over the side that dribbled over his fingers.

  Ethan snorted. “Sergeant Kruger will be your sniper. That is why I had her transferred here. Deal with it.”

  Viljoen assumed a professionally neutral expression and nodded. “Aye, aye, sir.” The next names met with his taciturn approval while Xander howled with laughter on the inside.

  Afterward, Oshiro and Ethan fell into discussion about combat medic protocols and support.

  “Will four medics be sufficient?” Ethan asked.

  “I don’t require many. I’ll happily accept quality over quantity,” Xander spoke aloud while reviewing the suggested marines. A few of the names on his personal list coincided with Ethan’s recommendations. “I’m happy with the four, but I’d be pleased if you add Elizabeth Fairchild, too. I spoke with her in medical this morning and she’s a brilliant nurse with a second degree in microbiology. Perfect asset to the team.”

  “Done.”

  “Appreciated,” Xander said courteously. He stole a glance at Viljoen. The quiet man still sat back in his chair with his arms folded against his chest.

  Eventually, they concluded their meeting and began to file from the room. Viljoen stepped into line behind Oshiro, but Xander found it increasingly difficult to bite his tongue.

  “Viljoen. A word with you?”

  The other commander hung back and shut the door, as if he’d expected the request. They didn’t return to their seats. Xander opted to lean by the table while his fellow officer waited a few steps from the door.

  “Something wrong, Vargas?”

  “You tell me. Do you have something against cybernetics that I should know about?” Xander asked.

  “They’re a crutch. An easy way to cheat their way past doing the work themselves.”

  “Whether it was elective augmentation or not, they are here to serve the Empire the same as you and me.”

  Viljoen smirked. “Of course, you have a soft spot for them. That’s the only reason you’re here.”

  “No. That is where you and I differ, because I see them no differently than our men who have the blessing to remain completely flesh and blood. You, on the other hand, appear to have something against Thandie Kruger in particular. If it’s about wanting to avoid any claims of favoritism toward another native of your home planet, you’ve taken it a few steps too far.”

  “Not really. This doesn’t have anything to do with her originating from Tallulah.” Viljoen paused and glanced at the watch fastened to his wrist, as if he’d spared too many seconds of his precious time already for Xander. “Like most mechies, she needs to pull her weight without relying on her shiny new upgrades. She’ll get herself killed if she goes into a fight thinking that arm will save her.”

  “She’s a sniper. Her job is to kill before the enemy knows she’s there. I doubt she relies on the arm to save her.”

  “My job is to make sure they can handle any combat situation.”

  “That’s odd, because I’ve taken the liberty to speak to half a dozen other cyborgs after the second complaint entered the medical bay yesterd
ay. Three complaints, since my arrival, of joint and nerve damage. The commonality between them is that you are the trainer. Are they handling combat situations or discrimination?”

  “I’m not having this discussion with you, Vargas.”

  Heat spread over Xander’s face. “I saved your ass when I salvaged Johnson’s hand in the repair lab. You won’t have me to speak to if you wreck a twenty-thousand-quid prosthetic—you’ll be taking it up with Bishop when the budget has to replace it.”

  Without another glance at the other officer, Xander slammed the door behind him and stormed to the elevator. The moment the doors closed, he leaned against the wall and shut his eyes.

  Deep breaths. He counted backwards. He tried to center himself, tried to imagine the shores of Elora with turquoise water gliding over pink sand beaches. If anything upset him, it was bullies, and Commander Viljoen was no exception.

  But he couldn’t afford to lose it again. Couldn’t jeopardize this second chance.

  Xander had to keep it under control.

  Three days later, a shuttle bearing the Jemison’s ground assault squad descended toward the surface of Loki 4’s single moon. Xander led his team of medical support while Viljoen commanded the Royal Marines. And because Thandie was among the latter, he counted himself fortunate that his combat suit concealed the persistent hardon she inspired until he got himself under control.

  Lieutenant Rogers landed the rockskipper at the settlement’s outskirts on a landing pad designated for supply ships.

  “You okay to wait here?” Viljoen asked the pilot.

  “Aye, sir. I have a rifle.” Rogers patted the stock and smiled. He didn’t look old enough to pilot an aircraft, ginger-haired and freckle-faced. “I’ll be right here if you need me and prepared to offer aerial support with the rockskipper’s canons, too.”

  “Excellent,” Viljoen said. “We’ll need a reliable eye.”

  Thandie stared at Viljoen until Xander touched her shoulder in passing.

  Once they all moved outside of the rockskipper, the silence of a dead village greeted them. Windmills moved in the distance and water crashed through the hydraulic power plant by the thin river cutting through the rock bordering the town. No one came to greet their ship.