Alien Revolt (Clans of Kalquor Book 11)

by Tracy St. John

  Lokmi calculated. “Let’s see, my crew is pulling double shifts to get the priority phase tools done within the week.”

  Kila interjected. “Excellent. You’re ahead of schedule on those.”

  “Another two or three weeks for ship-standard phasing? That’s assuming my team doesn’t turn on me and toss me out of an airlock.”

  “For which I would personally tear their heads off,” Kila growled.

  Lokmi gave him a warm gaze which spoke of feeling before diving into sarcasm to cover up the moment of blatant emotion. “I will appreciate your gesture so much after my death.”

  Kila grinned. He didn’t push Lokmi’s obvious discomfort. He turned to Piras instead. “This is assuming we have two or three weeks before Maf starts screaming to attack Haven and Rokan. I doubt that’s the case.”

  “Probably not, but I’m searching for whatever tools I can add to our arsenal.” The Dramok crooked a brow at Lokmi. “Have you begun configuring for the Earther ships yet?”

  Lokmi nodded. “Do you want me to concentrate on those?”

  “Yes. I plan to hack into the interconnected systems of the Kalquorian ships, which the Earther vessels aren’t tied into. Each battlecruiser is individually controlled, which effectively locks me out. Your idea to phase them could give an advantage I hadn’t hoped for.”

  Kila rubbed Lokmi’s back affectionately. “See? Even those who can’t do math can make a difference. Notice the pun there? Make a difference?”

  Lokmi rolled his eyes at Kila, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “I’m not going to honor that with a reaction. How was the Holy Leader?”

  Piras pulled a face. “Revolting. Ridiculous. From a battle standpoint, I’m more concerned about his general.”

  Being an all-around man as well as a gearhead, Lokmi’s interest lay in more mundane matters. “Did you see any pretty Earther girls?”

  Kila thought again of the girls and women kneeling in Copeland’s chambers. He shuddered and brought a better version of Earther beauty to mind. “Piras ran over one. Left his boot prints all over the poor little thing. Then he added insult to injury by calling her a boy.”

  Piras was quick to defend himself. “Wait a damned minute. She ran into me. And I didn’t stomp on her.”

  Lokmi gave him an approving smile. “That’s nice to hear. I commend you on keeping your big, booted feet to yourself, Piras. Word is, Earther females make terrible rugs.”

  Piras scowled. “You’ve been around Kila too long. You’re starting to sound like him.”

  “Take that back! I refuse to be insulted in such a way.”

  The Nobek fake-growled. “Someone is asking for a punch. Sometimes I swear you like having your ass kicked, Tragoom bait.”

  Lokmi was an equal-opportunity jerk, and he went back to insulting Piras. “I may be Tragoom bait, but at least I can tell a female from a male. You really thought she was a boy?”

  Piras huffed in exasperation. “She’s built small. Anyone might make the same mistake.”

  “No, just you,” Kila said, enjoying how flustered his Dramok was becoming. “I knew right away she was a girl. And I didn’t storm over her like you did. I use my eyesight.”

  Lokmi snickered, enjoying himself. “Since you can see better than Piras, answer my original question. Was she pretty or not? This is the only information that matters.”

  Piras threw a pillow at him. “Mother of All, we’re here to win a war, not chase Earther females. Get your head out of your dicks.”

  Kila ignored him. He needed a momentary distraction from the tensions of the day. They all did, he thought. He told Lokmi, “Actually, the young woman was lovely. Which doesn’t matter, of course. Looks aren’t everything.”

  Lokmi snorted. “Lucky for you.” He winked and grinned broadly to show he merely poked fun.

  “You two are impossible,” Piras sighed. “Let’s get dinner.”

  “Now there’s an idea,” Kila said, However, thinking about women and having a laugh with Lokmi while Piras stood there being gorgeous gave him ideas which were not food-related. He asked his would-be clanmate, “Want to make an admiral sandwich?”

  Lokmi’s grin grew larger, and his gaze swung to take in Piras, looking him up and down. “Always a tasty option.”

  Piras was more than willing to put off his meal—not that Kila and Lokmi would have given him a choice in the matter. What followed was a well-deserved and much-needed break, one Kila suspected he might not get too many opportunities for in the coming days.

  He made sure to savor every sweet morsel of his admiral sandwich.

  * * * *

  Kila could move as silently as a soft breath, yet Piras woke the moment his Nobek’s body departed the bed. It was all the alert he needed to get up and start his day.

  Lokmi yawned as they left him under the sheets. He rolled over to enjoy the warmth from their recently-departed bodies. He snarled when Kila smacked the rounded silhouette of his ass, outlined in the draped linens. After a brief show of teeth, he settled back down.

  Piras snorted at the slumbering Imdiko as he dressed in a blue armored uniform with black trim, though his gaze on his would-be clanmate was devoted. It would have been lovely to coax the Imdiko awake in an amorous fashion. Lokmi was a slow riser unless an emergency or sex was involved. Since his shift didn’t start for another two hours, the other two left him alone to sleep in after Kila’s playful spank.

  Turning his regard to the destroyer captain, Piras eyed his Nobek with appreciation. The sleeveless black fleet uniform with its red piping suited the captain well. It showed off the marks of honor on his arms, a myriad of scars chronicling Kila’s past battles. Piras knew few of the stories behind those healed wounds because Kila was not one to brag. It was enough for him to show he’d fought his wars and won through.

  Kila yanked his boots on. “You never did tell me whether you wanted my reconnaissance to concentrate on Earther or Kalquorian ships first.”

  “Take the harder of the two. If Lokmi’s going to concentrate on phasing the battlecruisers, he’ll want information which might affect his configurations. Make sure you record video of their engine rooms in case they’ve changed from the latest schematics we’ve got.”

  Kila stood and attached a small diamond-shaped metal piece to the left breast of his top. “Anything else?”

  Piras waved him off, not showing the disquiet he felt to see his Nobek getting ready to walk into danger. “You’re the better spy. You can make your own judgments on these matters. Are you going to Copeland’s ship?”

  “It seems like the logical place to start.” Kila eyed him critically, eyeing him with the stare of a protective Nobek clanmate. “What will you be doing? I know you’re meeting with General Nath this afternoon.”

  “Right. Say, did you notice any similarities between him and the young woman we bumped into on the way to the meeting yesterday?”

  “The one you left your boot prints on?” Kila chuckled at Piras’s grunt of exasperation. “It was the eyes. I think it’s a somewhat common characteristic for one of Earth’s territorial blocs—Asia or Africa maybe? I can’t remember. Earthers come in so many shapes and colors, I can’t keep them straight.”

  “Their Middle Easterners appear similar to us. That bunch is easy to remember.”

  Kila shrugged dismissively. “There’s a good chance I’ll still be there when you visit the Sword of Truth. I may spend a day away to find out all I need to. Maybe even overnight. Mostar will go with you if I’m not back in time for your meeting with Nath.”

  Piras was disappointed he would be without Kila for so many hours. “That long? Well, Mostar is an able bodyguard. We’ll also have our phase devices on us if things go badly for some reason. No need to worry.”

  “I’m your Nobek, aren’t I? Don’t tell me not to worry.”

  Piras smiled at the severe gaze Kila gave him, the captain’s usual smirk disappearing for the moment. “Okay, then pine for me, oh gentle soul.”


  “Fuck off, you jerk.”

  “That’s Admiral Jerk to you.”

  Kila chuckled, his humor restored. “Sir, yes sir.”

  “To answer your earlier question, I will be seeing if I can get a read on Maf’s fleet. If I can access the destroyers’ command systems remotely, it will make life much easier.”

  Kila cocked his head, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. “We still haven’t been tied into the rebel fleet’s systems. It makes me think either the destroyers are operating independently or we’re not the golden boys Maf says we are.”

  The same concern had nagged Piras as well. “I know there’s a ship-wide system, because Sitrel gave me a song-and-dance about not realizing we weren’t tied in.”

  “Worrisome.”

  “I agree. I’ll have to ask Sitrel about it again and see if we can be linked in. Meanwhile, we’re here and we’ve got a job to do. Let’s concentrate on that and not borrow any trouble.”

  Chapter 4

  Kila landed his phased shuttle in the Sword of Truth’s main bay, using one of the numerous empty vessel pads. He stepped out, as invisible to the ‘cruiser’s crew as his ship was, and had a look around. He had to remind himself not to flinch when one of the Earthers turned in his direction.

  Stand there in the open, surrounded by the enemy, was difficult. Knowing he was phased didn’t take away the instinct to hide. From what he understood about phase technology, Kila’s body currently occupied a small wrinkle between dimensions. It rendered him not only unseen to those in regular reality, but able to pass through the solid objects of normal space. It had the added advantage in that he could view ordinary reality perfectly well.

  Kila had a rudimentary grasp of how the device worked which allowed him to move about invisible to the non-phased eye. Lokmi had perfected the technology stolen from Kalquor’s research labs, making it a seemingly infallible tool to the spies. Even the Empire itself didn’t have the final specifications making phasing a tool impeccable for use in war, though they were damned close to realizing it.

  “And then the spies running loose in Fleet Command and the War Department’s Research arm will have it too,” Piras had predicted with a gloomy prescience. He’d discussed with Kila the latest tests and minor failures he’d gotten his codebreaking mitts on. “We need to win this war before Maf finds out how to phase and takes our advantage away.”

  So much depended on Kila’s destroyer full of spies, on Piras’s abilities to infiltrate the Basma’s fleet, on Lokmi’s engineering ability which kept the ship and its crew one step ahead of the enemy. Kila tried not to think of the odds against them, or of the odds against the Empire itself. He especially didn’t want to consider the innocent lives hanging in the balance.

  Kila dismissed the many worries, the seemingly innumerable problems facing his mission to devastate as much of the Basma’s and Copeland’s combined fleet as possible. “One step at a time,” he muttered.

  He started by inspecting the bay he’d landed in. After a few moments of squinting in the glare of lighting that weaker Earther eyes required, his sight adjusted and he was able to take it all in.

  It was a docking area for the courier-class vessels, but also where a lot of maintenance and repairs were carried out. What Kila saw made his omnipresent grin stretch wider despite the nose-wrinkling odors of oils, greases, and ozone.

  The docks for the operational shuttles were bare by about a third. Kila knew from the renegade battlecruisers taken after the war that many Earthers had opted to abandon their posts. A large number of the former fleet crews had run from captains and command staff who were determined to keep fighting. As the ‘cruisers ran out of food and power over the years, even more gave up and fled.

  Kila took his time observing the bay. While he did so, shuttles flew in and touched down. Couriers trading supplies and probably communiques leapt out. They handed off items to waiting personnel before quickly taking off again. No doubt there were messages the Earthers didn’t want even their Kalquorian allies to hear. They physically handed off the most sensitive materials rather than chancing their coms being intercepted.

  Kila listened to the engines of the busy shuttles, noting the sporadic interruptions in their softly buzzing resonances. Occasionally, he heard more serious chopping noises or high-pitched whines from the small vessels. Few sounded as if they were operating at optimal levels.

  Kila moved closer to the crowded maintenance and repair bays. Near them were a couple dozen shuttles in serious disrepair. Most were missing pieces from their bodies, exposed engines, and propulsion compartments. As he watched, a team cannibalized one of those denizens, lifting an entire power module from it and carrying it to another shuttle within a repair bay. The uniforms of the crewmembers were frayed at the hems and worn at the elbows and knees. The men appeared as shabby as the majority of their craft.

  The shuttles on this particular battlecruiser were declining due to age, damage, and wear. Kila had the feeling the same would be found on the other vessels in Copeland’s ragtag fleet. He’d know for sure in a few hours since phased members of his crew were currently infiltrating other ‘cruisers and gathering intelligence.

  And what of the fighter ships he’d find in other bays? What of the battlecruisers themselves? How bad off was the Earther arm of the blended enemy fleet?

  Kila turned his back on the repair bays. His next stop would be the fighter bay and then engineering. With any luck, he’d get more good news.

  As he was ready to walk out, a thought occurred to the Nobek. He stopped and looked the bay over again, this time focusing his interest on the personnel. He snorted at what he saw.

  “Intelligence says you Earthers are supplementing your crews with Maf’s rebels. But no Kalquorians on your flagship? Do we make you nervous, Copeland?”

  He chuckled, enjoying the idea. Before the mission was over, he hoped Copeland would rue the day he’d made any overtures to Kalquorians of any stripe. Taking a last glance around at the depressing shuttle bay, Kila started his operation.

  * * * *

  Hope and her dad were almost ready to head out to their respective duties. Hope didn’t try to mask her amused jealousy as Charity sprawled in smug decadence on a chair. The youngest Nath had no classes scheduled that day. She sighed dramatically to keep their attention as she sipped tea and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. The teasing was all in good fun, leaving her sister and father chuckling at her antics.

  Serious issues were given attention as well, however. Borey said in a low voice to Hope, “Watch yourself today. Our allies on the other ships are sending updates through your connection.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  “Nothing that won’t wait until we’re back here at the end of the day. I’m hoping to hear the Truth Brigade and the Resisters will work together on the matter we discussed last week.”

  “No immediate reply needs to be sent out though. Got it.” Good. She was glad of the lesser danger.

  Charity blew a raspberry from her cozy perch. “I love trying to piece together all these little tidbits. One of these days, you’ll let me in. Then I can say stuff like, ‘The Hottentots demand the Snickerdoodles play ball over the Tiddlywink Affair.’ Talking in code must feel so special.”

  Hope rolled her eyes even as she giggled. “You have to be in a position that helps us before you can be clandestine. And who told you about the Tiddlywink Affair? That’s classified information.”

  Their father was less amused. “Don’t be in such a hurry to put yourself in danger. You know the penalty for treason around here. The less you know, the safer you are.”

  “Why would I want to be safe if you two get executed? I’d have nothing left anyway.” Charity’s joking manner darkened in an instant, as it had a habit of doing lately.

  Hope knew she was about to add to her sister’s abruptly plunging mood. “Stay inside, okay? Signs are pointing to Copeland is getting ready to dump his current wife. Or am I reading things wrong, Dad
?”

  Borey’s expression went as grim as Charity’s. “The omens are there. He’s ignoring her in public and adding extra bruises in private. Last week, he had her move to the ex-wives’ dorm.”

  “Well, she is on the verge of twenty. He’ll be on the hunt soon.”

  Charity rolled her eyes. “Great. Like this tub isn’t boring enough already. I was hoping to have lunch with Susan in the mess hall. Come on, Dad, the cafeteria isn’t anywhere near the Holy Leader’s chambers.”

  Borey shook his head, giving her a father’s firm gaze. “Not right now. Copeland’s talking about doing rounds to inspect the ship, which usually means he’s searching. The less he notices you, Charity, the better.”

  “You don’t want his attention, Sis. Trust me on that,” Hope added. She thought of Amanda. Her childhood friend’s once merry—once living—face erupted in her imagination. All at once, Hope had to turn away from her family. She furiously blinked back the sting of tears.

  Charity appeared at her side. She grabbed Hope’s hand and squeezed it. “I’ll stay in today. No problem. I won’t give either of you anything to worry about.”

  Borey’s arms went around both his daughters. “Good girl. We’ll see you at dinner.”

  Hope breathed them both in; her father’s reassuring scent and the aroma of Charity’s soapy cleanliness, so much like her own. It was fitting they should smell the same, because Hope felt the younger woman was almost a physical part of her. She paused long enough to hug Charity as their father’s heavy tread left the quarters. Then she walked out, braving another day in Copeland’s hellish world order.

  * * * *

  Sitting in the conference chamber adjoining the Holy Leader’s suite of rooms, Piras stared at Sitrel in disbelief. He was glad Copeland had not opted to attend this meeting. The admiral had the ugly feeling his less-than-proper instincts might soon take over. It was bad enough General Nath, seated across the table from Piras, would be witness to it.