by Candace Sams
“Exactly,” she smiled broadly. “I figured I could use my skills to move up in the world. I’m now a hands-on Aerospace Engineer where my mechanic’s background comes in quite handy. I work for Dunnbarr Industries back on Earth. Or, I used to until I handed in my notice a few months back,” she corrected. “I wanted to finish my contractual judging obligation to the Miss Milky Way pageant and take some time off to see more of the galaxy.”
He actually saw the light of genuine interest shimmering within her stunning blue-green eyes, and knew his subject for conversation could put him back in a more favorable light. “So, Los Angeles was your home then?”
“For the last few years, yes. And when I needed a lot more dough for my doctoral studies and heard that the Miss Milky Way competition had opened for entrants, I signed up and eventually won. The corporate sponsors let me keep up my studies during my reign. Otherwise I’d have never gotten my thesis in on time.”
“And what was your thesis?” he randomly asked as he served himself from several dishes on the table.
She cleared her throat and announced the title in a merrily outrageous, grandiose manner. “The Dynamics Involved in Recalibrating Irundium Engines, and the Gammatron-Nucleoid Combustion Isolation Ratio Comparison to Old Petroleum-Based Ground Transportation. It makes a good read if you need to get to sleep quickly or your date stands you up,” she quipped.
He’d been in the process of sipping some wine he’d just poured, but almost spat it out in shock. The subject of her study was so far above him he might as well be a microbe on some non-sentient planet. While he knew the basics of the Valiant’s engine, it wasn’t necessary for him to understand all the specs of the damned thing to turn it on and make the vessel move. His job, aside from law enforcement in any assigned sector of space, was to supervise his crew and safely carry out missions. The tiny fireball sitting across from him made him feel more like a creature of brawn—dazed by her mechanically-wired super brain.
With every word she uttered, Charlie Grayson enthralled Datron more. Certainly, he’d never met another soul like her in his entire thirty-three years of life as she’d measure them on Earth. Charlie exhibited, in one bundle, a bodacious sense of humor, a sweet little body, and a heinously wicked intellect! Something deep within the vicinity of his chest stirred and reacted with passion. He regretted thinking she was just another contestant looking for a bed partner.
This particular target, as he now considered her, would require a great deal more finesse than the pageant contestants or the assorted barflies he normally consorted with during his free nights in the city.
“How would you like to see an Oceanus starfighter rigged with the latest equipment?”
She swallowed a bite of Oceanus’ version of flounder before responding. “How would one go about getting aboard such a vessel?”
He shrugged. “With all the tourists arriving on Oceanus these days, the Protectorate requires vessels not rigged for duty to be available for visitation. Even school children are availing themselves of the opportunity to see inside law enforcement craft. And, really, there are no secrets. For normal duties, the weaponry and flight capability is public knowledge. But few who see the engines could appreciate them the way a good mechanic might.”
“Would it be possible to watch your engineer recalibrate the fuel ratio?”
Seeing the glimmer of interest in her pretty eyes, he wanted to show her anything she wished to see. “I’ll leave a pass for you at the gate. The Valiant is situated at the far, northern end of the field. It’s quite a walk. But there are shuttles picking tourists up at the entrance.”
“What’s a good time?”
“We won’t be done flushing the old fuel from the system until mid-afternoon.”
She nodded. “I’ll be there with bells on.” Then, she pushed some of the purple, three-eyed flounder toward her guest. “Fish?”
He smirked, put some of his Earth steak on her plate, and traded it for the fish. For the rest of the evening, they conversed about engineering. He found the more Charlie spoke about a subject she clearly loved, the more animated her heart-shaped face became. Her intellect belied the trendy clothing, silver wig, and makeup she wore, and he found himself wondering about the real woman under all the trappings.
Finally, they shoved their plates away and sipped the last of the wine. When she stood and sauntered toward the door, clearly indicating in a not-too-subtle way he should go, Datron held back for a moment.
His petite Einstein wasn’t about to suggest he stay for what little remained of the rest of the night. He hadn’t encountered this situation before. Usually, when women asked him to their abode, the invitation included steamy sexual interludes with the lady begging him to stay until the morning. He’d sometimes declined the offer, using duty as his excuse. With the situation somewhat reversed, he found he in fact wanted to get the little mechanic into bed. Truth be told, he didn’t think he’d ever seduced a woman who came close to Charlie’s IQ.
Charlie clasped her hands in front of her and stood in the vicinity of her foyer. “Well, it’s been a pleasant evening. I think we understand each other much better now.”
He moved closer to her and gazed down into her blue-green eyes one more time. He tried to turn on the smoldering look women seemed to adore, in an attempt to waylay the parting. “Shall we seal this new friendship with a kiss?”
“Good night, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
He sighed, glanced down at the hand she offered, and clasped hers in an unrewarding, benign, businesslike gesture. After the handshake he walked through the door she quickly opened, but with one thought on his mind.
Charlie could try to avoid the charm that worked on dozens of other women, but it wouldn’t work. Eventually, she’d give in to him as they all did. He turned in the hallway to say good night, and found the door closing in his face.
Datron put his hand against the door, leaned against it, and smiled.
That’s okay, you miniscule, engineering genius. You may be hard-wired, but I’ve got a few moves to soften you up. In the end, it’s always the same.
He walked away, already plotting how he’d get under her skin, telling himself she certainly hadn’t got under his. Her aloofness was just a ploy—different from those most women employed to be sure. However, sooner or later, he’d get past it and she’d be in his bed. Sadly, once that happened his interest would wane. Duty as usual, came before anything else, and his paramour of the moment would be off to some other man’s bed—like all the rest. That’d been his life for the last few years.
Still the game was afoot. He and Charlie could enjoy it while it lasted. Being smart and lovely were attributes in her favor. Yes, she had captured a deeper interest.
Dalliances and little intrigues aside, what he really wanted had never been uttered to anyone.
He wanted what Keir Trask had obviously found. The elusive need only one woman could fill. If he couldn’t define what he was looking for, then all the women he approached would be found wanting no matter how alluring they might appear at first.
Once again, as he had on hundreds of other occasions, he thought if Electra Galaxy could see him as anything other than a cover operative, or Sagan wasn’t attached, he’d make a permanent play for either. They were the only two females he’d ever found intellectually worthy of a long-term relationship. But one always chose older men who were her contemporaries. The other was in his best friend’s arms, loving him to distraction and about to bear his child.
Simply put, he wanted a woman who lit his heart the way Sagan illuminated his former captain’s. This singularly special female had to be out there.
But where?
Chapter Six
Four hours into a deep sleep, Datron awakened to the insistent buzzing of the hatch to his quarters.
“This had better be good,” he grumbled as he pulled a sheet around his lower body in case the party on the other side of the door was female. There was, after all, a ce
rtain amount of decorum expected of a starfighter captain.
He quickly punched open the hatch and came face-to-face with a young diplomatic officer of the first rank. The tall, blue-skinned Oceanun would never have reached the captain’s quarters if not for all the insignias on his black uniform—marking him as a royal emissary.
“Captain Datron Mann?” the officer asked in his native, Valkyrian tongue.
“Yes. And you are?” Datron responded, using the same language.
“C’trkin Fl’r, sir. I’ve been commanded to deliver a missive into your hands personally.”
The officer first checked his video wristband, probably to verify Datron was the captain of the starfighter Valiant.
“I am also instructed to command your appearance before His Royal Majesty. With all due haste.”
The emissary handed him the small, square electronic bar and saluted by putting his right palm over his heart. Then he vacated the passageway in great haste.
Datron watched the youngster leave then closed the hatch to his quarters again. Confused by not only the early hour of this delivery but also its odd nature, he made a quick job of showering and pulling on uniform pants and his best pair of shiny black boots. He combed out his damp hair and tied it at the nape of his neck, as uniform codes required.
This obvious summons to appear before the supreme Majesty of Oceanun’s elected council―also known to the denizens of this world as their king―was a somber matter. Though the royalty of Oceanus kept hereditary titles as a courtesy these days, the importance of the missive wasn’t to be disregarded.
Finally satisfied his attire and overall appearance was appropriate, he centered his attention on the encrypted message by opening a flap on the small black packet and punching in his personal identification code on a small keypad on top of the device. Datron then placed the mechanism on a nearby table and backed away. A regal holographic image of the king hovered within the small confines of the room. The recorded message was, surprisingly, delivered in his native Valkyrian.
“Captain Mann… I require you, Gilla Eck’nor and Clitus Gart to appear before me at Council Headquarters with all due speed. At the same time this message was delivered to you, your two officers should have also received a similarly encrypted packet. This is a matter of utmost security. No one aboard your vessel is to know your exact whereabouts. Instruct your bridge crew you will be leaving your vessel and will return before midday. If they must reach you, they may only do so via your wrist communicator.”
Datron watched as the entire missive packet crumbled into dust. It had contained, as all such secret memos were supposed to, an agent that dissolved the entire device once the message ended. Had he been holding it when this happened, his hand could have been severely burned. But that was the nature of these delivery systems. Anyone trying to access them without having the proper identification codes would set off their self-destruct sequence.
In the many years he’d been with the Oceanus enforcers, he’d only seen one such device delivered, and this had been done in space via a secure shuttle. That was the message that had sent him and Keir Trask to Earth posing as male beauty pageant contestants. Their mission—to catch smugglers bearing a very dangerous kind of weapon.
He quickly left his quarters and made his way out of the ship. Clitus and Gilla were already awaiting him on the landing field surface. They spoke no words, but hurried to the guarded entrance of the airfield. Although, it would be much quicker for him to use his wings and actually take flight, doing so would draw unwanted attention. And he was sure the king meant for them to appear as if they were breaking fast together or off to some early meeting within the city. Besides that, with so many tourists using air space at every hour of the day and night, his flying would hardly engender a kind response from local air traffic controllers. Add to that the fact he’d be leaving his two friends behind, spreading his wings and doing what came naturally to his kind simply wasn’t an option.
The ride into the city of Cetacea would give him time to think and paste on a mask of composure. Though he wouldn’t admit it, the summons had shaken him. He was certain Clitus and Gilla felt the same.
As they walked to the entrance to the field, the sun rose over the horizon. The bright purple shrubbery that surrounded the field and prevented unauthorized personnel from entering without permission was now illuminated by the reddish-orange hue of a massive Oceanus sun. An eerie sight he’d witnessed hundreds of times, but now it seemed more ominous. A transport vehicle appeared and stopped directly in front of him. Datron glanced at Gilla and Clitus. Without a word, all three got into the shuttle and were whisked away.
In less than twenty minutes, the capitol city of Cetacea came into view. For Datron, the skyline was as breathtaking as it had been when he’d arrived as an extremely young enforcer recruit. The city existed of crystalline buildings constructed from the clearest and hardest quartzite that could be quarried. Structures shaped as spheres reached toward the heavens where billowy pink clouds floated. The pink color, he knew, was an effect of the sun’s light as it passed through an artificial climate and radiation barrier. While rain fell when and as nature dictated, there was never too much sunlight from an enormous star. The light generated power to millions of homes and businesses. The planet itself was many times larger than his home world, many times larger than Earth, Arborea, or Silka as well as other planets he’d visited on his journeys with friends and as an enforcer.
The Oceanun air was said to be the cleanest in the galaxy and vegetation grew prolifically. Outside the city itself and to the north of the ocean from which the planet derived its name, there were forests where trees as high as buildings grew in profusion. And the oceans, a mixture of blue and green, were the envy of every sentient world. The beaches boasted pure white sand that glistened under starlight. Ocean life flourished, and the inhabitants kept their land, air, and water as unpolluted as the Creator had made them.
Today, however, the loveliness of the city became a minor diversion as their shuttle flew closer to the only solid marble structure within the entire metropolis of over five million citizens—Council Headquarters, where the ruling body of the entire planet met.
Different sectors of Oceanus had representatives who enacted law based upon their constituents’ wishes. In this way, the world remained democratic with the holdover of having a king as their High Council leader. Similar to some monarchs he’d read about on Earth. Royalty had some say in law making with their opinion being very much respected. But in the end, the people still voted. The politics of Valkyrie, Clitus’ planet of Arborea, and Gilla’s home of Silka were all based on that same premise. In fact, on every planet where civilization thrived, some form of democracy or republic was the norm. For the king to unceremoniously summon them, some situation must threaten the general peace. Perhaps the democracy itself.
After arriving at HQ, he dismounted the shuttle and led the way toward the main chamber. Still, his comrades did not speak. The serious nature of this affair made them all contemplative.
They walked through the arched doors of the imperious structure, through a long white marble, cathedral hallway and straight to the area once known as the throne room. There they found the king sitting on his ancestral chair of power, and they all bowed from the waist as tradition dictated. Though Kryllian Zatoe Doran did not rule any of their homelands, they served in his enforcer protectorate so they showed respect due him. He was a good man whose honesty had won him much admiration throughout the galaxy. Furthermore, he was Keir Trask’s grandfather, soon to be the great-grandfather to Keir’s newborn son.
“Hail, Majesty. We are at your service,” Datron announced as protocol required.
The monarch before him impressed Datron, not only with dignity and honesty but with his almost seven feet of muscular build. The man looked like a warrior. His long graying hair did nothing to hide a countenance that reminded everyone of Keir Trask or vice versa. His black uniform, with numerous medals and service ri
bbons attached was further proof of the man’s commitment to his people. In his youth, the king had fought as hard and long for their safety as any enforcer ever had. For all these reasons, Datron held the man in high esteem.
Kryllian dismounted the throne and stood before Datron and his friends. The monarch then lifted one hand and summoned someone else from the wings of the massive room.
Datron almost lost his composure when Electra Galaxy strode from the shadows of the corridors and into the light. As surprised as he was, the Earth woman was as poised and cool as she’d ever been. Dressed in a long white skirt and matching sweater, platinum blonde hair neatly pinned behind her neck, she looked every bit the beautiful pageant diva everyone thought her to be. But he knew this was not one of the situations where that cover would be utilized. Had Kryllian Zatoe Doran discovered she was actually an Earth Protectorate Supervisor, and a highly classified undercover operative? If so, who had divulged the information? The only beings not present, who could have outed her to the king, were Keir Trask or Keir’s mate, Sagan.
Yet, why would his former captain or Sagan relinquish such information, even to Kryllian? Telling anyone Electra had been a secret agent working with them during the Mr. Interstellar Feller pageant would put her in a great deal of danger as well as blow her cover for the rest of her life. For these reasons he could hardly believe she was here of her own volition.
Kryllian took a deep breath and spoke first.
“Understandably, an explanation for my having called you here at such an early hour is required. I’ll use Earth English since we all have that one language in common.” He paused as he glanced at each of those present. “I see the shocked looks on your faces and understand completely. First, let me tell you I do know of Ms. Galaxy’s position in Earth’s Protectorate Force as one of their top operatives. Second, I know her acting in the guise of a male beauty pageant diva is actually a cover for her Earth-based law enforcement operations. Third, I know all about her helping you gentlemen during your mission on Earth, where you pretended to be male beauty pageant contestants. My grandson, Keir, took his orders from me on that assignment, hence my familiarity with the operation. I further know Gilla and Clitus hail from Silka and Arboreta respectively, though they were working for a Mars-based constabulary until joining the ranks of our Oceanun Protectorate. Finally…neither my grandson, Keir, nor his mate, Sagan, revealed any of this to me. Indeed, the two of them are to be left out of this entire undertaking as they await the birth of their son…my great grandson.”
