Alien Revolt (Clans of Kalquor Book 11)

by Tracy St. John

  “No. It’s not. But there isn’t much we can do about it now.” She folded her arms over his chest and propped her chin on them so she could gaze into his face. She stared into the roughly handsome features, memorizing every detail.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, his eyes bright with interest.

  “I wonder if we’ll see each other again once it’s all said and done.”

  “I want to.” Kila’s usual smirk faded. He gazed at her as intently as she looked at him.

  Hope’s worries no longer included only her father and sister. Kila, Piras, and Lokmi had joined her family at the top of her anxieties list. She was emotionally invested, all right. It was yet another matter she hadn’t gotten the chance to plan on.

  * * * *

  Kila was long gone and Hope had even had the time to shower and dress before her father got back. She’d ordered a grouchy Charity awake and into the shower to get ready for classes. While her sister cleaned up, Hope made herself coffee and breakfast. She was downing her last swallow when her father walked in the door.

  At the sight of his pale face, Hope nearly choked on her last mouthful. He seemed simultaneously terrified and enraged. Her first thought was that he’d figured out she’d been having sex with Clan Piras.

  “Dad?” she ventured.

  He stood just inside their quarters, trembling as the door locked behind him. “Copeland’s latest wife died last night. He’s formally requested Charity’s hand in marriage. He wants the ceremony to be conducted today.”

  Hope went cold. Terror filled her heart with ice. For a moment, she thought it would stop beating.

  Her father had been important to Copeland for years, his most critical military commander. Yet the Holy Leader had plenty of able captains loyal to his dictates. Borey was not indispensable. Had her father refused Copeland’s ‘request’, he would be in a cell right now, probably awaiting execution on trumped-up treason charges.

  Hope’s stomach churned around her recently finished breakfast. She thought she might throw up.

  “What did you tell him?”

  His stricken gaze was glassy. He blinked hard, as if trying to wake from the nightmare. “I managed to delay an answer. I told him I would pray on it with Charity. He was not pleased, but I’m essential enough to him that he allowed me until this afternoon to respond.”

  Essential enough to gain a stay of execution, but not important enough to fend it off should Borey give the wrong answer—or delay it for any real length of time. Hope felt her knees turn to water and managed to stagger to the dinette bench before they gave out completely. “Dear prophets, what are we supposed to do?”

  “I think it’s time for us to use the phase devices.” He fingered the inside of his collar, where he’d taken to wearing his.

  “I agree. Except, won’t that could wreck our plans to take him and this attack fleet down?”

  “Then the answer is to keep trying to stall.” Her father ran shaking hands over his close-cropped hair, his expression desperate. “Damn it, why now? We’re just three days away from this being over!”

  “Three days away from what being over? Or is this one of those secret things I’m better off not knowing?” Charity stepped into the room, rubbing her damp hair with a towel.

  Their father still stood on the same spot, as if rooted to the floor. It seemed he couldn’t move, as if he feared doing so would bring the ceiling crashing down upon him. Yet for his youngest daughter, he managed to square his shoulders and firm his jaw. The terrible despair eased from his face. “Charity. There’s no easy way to tell you this. The Holy Leader wants to marry you. He insists the ceremony take place today.”

  Charity stared at him. Her cocksure attitude and superior smirk were nowhere in evidence as she grappled with the announcement. Hope had never seen her sister look so young and defenseless, not even as an infant.

  The teen’s words came out in a strange wheeze. “But you told him no. I’m too young. You told him no, right?”

  When Borey couldn’t bring himself to answer right away, Hope did. “You know what would happen if Dad outright refused him. Besides, you wouldn’t be the youngest bride Copeland has ever had.”

  Charity rounded on her furiously. “What are you saying? You want me to marry that crazy freak? I’d rather die.”

  Their father went to her and wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders. “Of course we don’t want you to marry him, sweetheart. I’d go to my death first as well. But this is a delicate time, and—shit.” He glanced at Hope, as if she were the parent with the answers.

  Hope told him, “She needs to know everything. All of it.”

  “You’re right. We can’t protect her from any of this. Not now.”

  He led Charity to the dinette so they could sit down with Hope. He laid it out for the youngest Nath, the one they had done their best to protect. He told her the whole story; the rebellion on Earth which had never come to fruition because of Armageddon, the attempts to start a new one to unseat Copeland, the coming plot to stop the attack on Haven.

  “Now this proposal of Copeland’s, at the worst possible time,” their father said, his face settling into grim lines Hope was sure had not been there the night before. “We need to play for time. I’m going to do my best to hold this wedding off—” he spit the word out as if it were vile poison “—in hopes that we can enact the attack first. But if an emergency arises, use your phase device.”

  “Make sure you keep it with you at all times, Charity. Don’t lose it,” Hope cautioned.

  “Well, duh. I’m fifteen, not five, you know.” The put-upon expression she wore so often was back. “For the prophets’ sake, you two. Give me a little credit.”

  Her dad smiled at her. “All the credit in the universe, my heart. It’s not that we don’t trust you. It’s because we know what Copeland is capable of.”

  “And it scares the shit out of us,” Hope added.

  Charity nodded, affixing the device to the inside of her shirt at her father’s prodding. “I’d rather wear it on the outside. It looks like jewelry anyway.”

  “Best to keep it out of sight.”

  “It pokes. I’ll be worrying with it all day.”

  “Charity.”

  “Right. I hear you loud and clear on being cool and careful. Should I skip classes then?”

  Borey considered a moment before shaking his head. “I think it would be best if we continue to act as normal as possible until we can’t anymore. Be ready to act if you have to.”

  Hope said, “We need to get word to Piras. Maybe he can help in some way.”

  “He’s due to pay Copeland a visit today. I’ll try to signal him that we need to talk. I don’t know he would even care about our personal issues, but I can tell him what’s happening. Maybe he’ll have an idea.”

  “He’s a good man. He’ll be horrified about this.”

  Borey gave his eldest a searching gaze. Hope realized how much warmth she’d spoken with, perhaps more than working with the Kalquorian admiral for four days warranted. Her face warmed, but she didn’t drop her gaze from her father’s. She knew Piras would help. Even without the sex they’d had, she thought they had gotten close enough to guarantee that.

  Her father didn’t comment on whether he saw any guilt in her bearing. Instead, he said, “We’ll pray for the best possible outcome to this.”

  “Keep hope alive, you mean? In general, of course. And you too, Hope.” Charity’s awkward attempt at humor made Hope want to cry. Despite the brave front, she could still see a hint of fear lurking beneath the surface of her sister’s face. Charity knew the stakes. She knew as well as they did what a future as Copeland’s wife, no matter how brief, would mean.

  Hope was scared but determined. Her sister had to be kept safe. At any cost.

  Chapter 17

  The bridge of Kila’s ship had always been a model of efficiency, as far back as the war with Earth. Maybe even before that, in the days prior to Piras becoming famili
ar with the vessel and its crew. The admiral had made it the flagship of his squadrons at the time. Kila’s men had impressed him beyond all others of the Kalquorian fleet.

  Its captain had been particularly remarkable. Standing on the bridge once more, Piras was reminded of those first days, getting to know the man who had become his Nobek. Back then, Piras had still brooded over the lover he’d lost to another Dramok not too long before he’d met Kila. He’d not been able to fully appreciate the Nobek captain back then, had certainly not thought of him as anything more than a capable officer.

  I lost too many years mourning my relationship with Lidon. Years I could have spent happily with Kila, Piras thought. He’d been blind and entrenched in grief, incapable of valuing the Nobek he’d been meant for until Kila forced him to recognize the truth.

  Now their clanship was fully forged, but not for any real length of time. The Dramok thought of how soon it could be ended. It was bittersweet knowledge to possess as Piras and Kila directed the bridge crew’s simulations of the planned attack against Maf and Copeland’s combined forces. If the battle went badly for them, his time with Kila would be far too short. It made Piras’s heart hurt.

  Added to the angst was his relationship with Lokmi. Piras glanced at his second clanmate. Lokmi manned a computer podium on the bridge, a connection to Engineering which would allow him to immediately alert Kila to any problems while directing his crew.

  The Imdiko had been theirs for a matter of days. It would be the height of irony for Piras to lose his perfect clanmates so quickly, the only men he could imagine sharing his life with.

  And what of Hope Nath, the seemingly ideal woman for three very different men? Having met her just to lose her in the coming days—for win or lose, Piras knew her path would diverge from theirs—that seemed the cruelest cut of all. The Dramok had frequently observed love was more trial than reward. Even with his viewpoint, he couldn’t quite come to terms with having such potential happiness within his grasp and being forced to watch it slip away.

  It made him wish he’d been born without a heart. Things would be so much more damned easy if Piras could stop caring.

  He shook himself out of his gloomy thoughts to attend the simulation, now getting into full swing for the fourth time. Commander Uls manned the helm, his gaze riveted on the panel’s instrumentation and readouts. He was focused like a laser beam, ignoring the less-detailed computer-generated vids surrounding the circular bridge. The flashes of light made no impression on the Dramok first officer as computer-simulated ships fired on one another. “Half the destroyers show as being compromised, Captain. They are veering away from the attack line in the effort to get away.”

  Kila turned to Mostar, “Can you override our program parameters? I’d like to target hostiles in their path as they try to escape.”

  Mostar worked his computer in a frenzy. “Confirmed. I am opening fire against new targets. They are responding with counterattacks.”

  Kila turned to his communications officer, a man named Veko. “What are you hearing?”

  Piras couldn’t recall ever seeing the officer’s face. Veko was in his usual pose, his long hair spilling over his face as he bent to his control panel. He didn’t straighten to answer. “A great deal of confusion from the enemy’s side, Captain. The fleet defenders are calling for immediate attack on Maf’s forces.”

  “Good. We want them to take action as quickly as possible.”

  Uls chimed in. “They are doing so, sir. Attack formation confirmed for Haven and Rokan’s defenders. They are moving in.”

  Kila grinned. “We can’t let them have all the fun. Let’s bag a few trophies of our own.”

  The simulation made Piras feel better about the coming battle, right up to the moment when their destroyer came out of phase next to a target. At that precise instant, a Haven defender fired on it.

  Uls roundly cursed the bad luck. Mostar, in his typical droll fashion, said, “We’re dead, but Haven’s defenses hold on this scenario. All signs point to a successful outcome for defeating Maf and Copeland’s ships.”

  “What of when the battlecruisers come out of phase? They will do so if we’re destroyed,” Lokmi said.

  “The defenders will suffer heavy casualties, but the end result remains the same. We win.”

  Kila grinned, happy despite being blasted to bits as far as the simulation was concerned. He clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Now let’s make this interesting. Uls, reset simulation for outcome if one-quarter of the destroyers are compromised and none of the phase devices on the ‘cruisers work.”

  “Resetting.”

  Lokmi scowled at Kila. “Your faith in my work as well as the admiral’s is astounding, Captain. I assure you there will be no scenario in which all of the phase devices fail to operate.”

  Kila’s grin grew larger. Piras thought he was probably envisioning Lokmi’s punishment for getting mouthy while on duty. “We’ve got to be ready for anything, Chief.”

  Piras agreed. “Exactly. We have no way of actually testing either my altered command controls or the phase devices until the time comes to fight.”

  Lokmi kicked the base of the podium. “I apologize for my insubordination. It’s just that I hate these kinds of situations. Nothing is worse than using tech in a life-and-death scenario before it’s gone through proper trials.”

  Kila chuckled. He looked like he was having the time of his life, playing at fighting against impossible odds. As a Nobek, he was enjoying every second of it.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” he asked Lokmi.

  “Where’s your sense of self-preservation?” the Imdiko shot back.

  “We don’t do luxury here, Chief. We go in with blasters blazing and see how many go down before we do.”

  Mostar interrupted the clanmates’ debate. “Simulation ready.”

  “Let’s party,” Kila exulted.

  They ran the mockup program to grim results. Not only were they destroyed, but Haven and Rokan’s defenses were overrun as well.

  “We’re fucked,” Kila growled as the vid displayed a drone leaving the Sword of Truth, on its way to obliterate Haven’s colony. “At least we know under which circumstances we have a decent chance to win.”

  Piras sighed. “We need half the enemy destroyers compromised, and all of the ‘cruisers phased for at least the first third of the battle.”

  “No point in seeing what happens if none of our sabotage is in play. Question, Chief?”

  “Yes, Captain. What do we do in the case if we can’t win? If this gets started and we find we don’t have adequate control over the weapons or the battlecruisers, how do we react to the attack?”

  Piras exchanged a glance with Kila. The Nobek’s usual smirk faded.

  Feeling queasy, Piras addressed the question which had everyone but Veko watching him and Kila with interest. “If we have no hope of accomplishing the amended goal, which is to save Haven and Rokan, then we revert to the original task Fleet Command set before us. We will set ourselves in a position that will give us the best possible chance to infiltrate and sabotage Maf’s main fleet.”

  “You mean, we fight on the Basma’s side. We attack Rokan and Haven’s defenses too.”

  Piras gave Lokmi a level gaze. “The end game is stopping Maf from destroying the Empire, not rescuing a farming colony. Which we can’t manage anyway if our little gadgets and computer programs don’t do their job.”

  “We have the other plan,” Uls said hopefully. “The one we’re set to pull off if everything does go right.”

  “It will also tip our hand to Maf,” Piras said. “He’ll know more than we want him to, giving him the chance to be ready for us. It will be exceedingly difficult to make the second half of our modified mission work if he knows we’re coming.”

  “And it still won’t save Haven,” Kila reminded them.

  The crew was silent. Piras thought they had known the grim truth all along but had been hoping it would not come to such a harsh
end.

  He knew how they felt. Getting himself and Kila’s destroyer in the position they were in, close to the Voice of God himself, had meant sacrificing innocent lives already—and a hefty chunk of Piras’s soul.

  He already had a glut of blood on his hands. What were a few more drops?

  More than I want to think about. Each heart that stops because of something I’ve done weighs too damned much.

  Yet Piras knew he would do what he must to finish this terrible war. He knew Kila’s crew would too, no matter the stain on their souls.

  Lokmi sighed, breaking the quiet. “I love your pep talks, Admiral.”

  Piras offered him a grim smile. He turned in a slow circle, including all of the bridge crew. “If we can’t destroy this part of Maf’s fleet at this time, then we have to sustain ourselves by what we can accomplish in the future. Traitors will pay for each drop of blood they shed, with interest. We will be sure to collect the debt. We will wring it from their treasonous skins until the balance is paid in full.”

  His proclamation worked, invigorating the crew. Stern purpose lit in their eyes, even in Veko’s dark gaze peering from behind his heavy curtain of hair. Piras felt them steady, sensed them strengthen. They would do their best to protect Haven and Rokan. Failing that, they would exact terrible retribution on the slain colonists’ behalf.

  Kila had also revitalized. He wore his most dangerous sneer, looking as if his teeth were in want of a throat to tear out. In a voice which was more animal than man, he ordered, “Mostar, run the last simulation again. Let’s see if we can’t do a lot more damage this time.”

  Piras took heart from their dedication. Win or lose, they would be ready.

  * * * *

  “Technician Nath, you need to make a private com to General Nath.”

  Hope stared up at her supervisor, startled from her attempts to decipher a block of code. She blinked at Lopez’s displeased expression, his words not quite making sense yet. “Sir?”

  “You may use my desk and turn on the sound blocker.” He jerked a nod towards his office, which had a door that could be closed.