Alien Revolt (Clans of Kalquor Book 11)

by Tracy St. John

  Perhaps Lokmi, with his snobbish dedication to the purest mechanical perfection, had never felt the pull of the raiders’ barbaric allure. He inhaled the cloying scent of machine lubricants and grease with obvious pleasure, but his tone was dismissive as he eyed the stubby, two-tiered, chevron-shaped hulks. “They aren’t the prettiest things, are they?”

  Violent death has no business masquerading as pretty, Piras thought. He told his Imdiko, “They were never meant to be. They’ll do their job, and they’ll do it well.”

  A sense of disquiet filled him. Just that day, his covert access into Fleet Command’s systems had revealed a spyship had tracked the supposed source of the Maf’s com to Piras. Instead of pinpointing a vessel, an automated relay station had been discovered. Maf had sent his transmission there, where it could be routed to its intended receiver. The relay station had been programmed to immediately erased all broadcast sources accessing it. The Basma was still at large, and no one knew where to find him.

  Nevertheless, a severe blow against the enemy had been landed. The files Piras and Kila had downloaded from the Haven/Rokan attack force had been turned over to Fleet Command by Borey Nath. Though he’d found no sign in any of the fleet’s files that either Nath or Browning Copeland had magically appeared in Admiral Tranis’s office, Piras saw the information he’d trusted the Earther general to turn over. Better still, there was no mention of the perfected phase technology the fleet now had access to. It gave Piras a measure of relief to know that for the present, those secrets were locked up safe from Maf’s spies.

  Taking out the attack force near Haven had resulted in farther reaching effects than Piras had hoped for. With their first major victory scored, the Empire had redoubled its efforts to take back the two moons Maf had won in the first days of the revolt. Lobam and Sib had at last been restored once more to the Empire, its beleaguered residents rescued from the depredations of the Basma’s forces. Celebrations were ongoing on Kalquor and its freed colonies.

  Maf had dug in with his two remaining strongholds, which his forces were even now defending bitterly. The bulk of his fleet remained in the sector which butted up against Joshadan and Galactic Council space. It was there that the remainder of Copeland’s battlecruisers were said to now be exclusively manned by Kalquorian crews. Piras didn’t bother to wonder what might have befallen the Earthers who had been on those ships. Maf hated Earthers, particularly those in Kalquorian space. With Copeland supposedly dead, the traitor had no doubt decided to clean out his allies.

  It made Piras wonder how dedicated Maf was about his other remaining stronghold, the border with Bi’is near Laro Station. Piras had handed him the critical boundary for the sole purpose of getting close to him and Copeland. It had been the best and quickest way to win the Basma’s confidence. Piras had believed Maf wouldn’t chance his troops discovering the illicit trade deal with their greater enemy. He couldn’t imagine the bulk of Maf’s forces, though they’d turned traitors to the Empire, allowing their fellow Kalquorians to be sold to Bi’is for experimentation.

  Yet Maf had allegedly done away with the Earthers aiding him, those whom he had hidden behind while conducting his terrible deal with Bi’is. There was a growing hope that discovering the Basma’s transactions of Kalquorian blood for money would lead to defections. Piras wanted to have faith the basic honor of his people would hold true, that they would indeed turn on Maf.

  Kila’s deep voice interrupted the Dramok’s ruminations. Running his hand over the hull of a raider, caressing it with almost as much appreciation as he often stroked Hope’s shapely legs, the Nobek said, “You two see ugly. I see potential. I always wanted to soup up one of these old beasts. They were built to fly at incredible velocities. I can’t wait to find out how much speed they can take.”

  Piras ogled the brutal, knife-sharp points of the vessel. “I don’t care what they look like. I just want to command one, the way I used to imagine captaining a raider.”

  Lokmi stared at him in surprise. “You?”

  “Why not?”

  “Everyone always said raider crews were one step above pirates. You’re the honorable Admiral Piras. You might be meaner than a zibger when you’re pissed off, but you’re no outlaw.”

  Piras supposed he should have felt complimented his Imdiko thought him too noble to fall to the level of a brigand. Instead, he took it as a jab that he was too stuffy. “I have my rebellious side,” he insisted.

  Kila and Lokmi gazed at him for a moment. They burst into explosive laughter.

  “Jerks.” Piras scowled at them as they took delight at his expense. He quickly changed the subject, afraid to consider they might be right. “How long do you think it will take to get them ready?”

  Fortunately for his pride, they calmed immediately, ready as ever to talk engineering. Kila mused, “Four ships, put back at the top of their game, made as fast as their tolerances will allow—”

  Lokmi interrupted, “And phase-enabled. I have to configure their specs for new devices—if I can find all the parts I need to make them. Eight weeks?”

  Piras’s scowl deepened. He was not waiting eight weeks to go after Maf. “Make it four.”

  Kila shook his head. “Only if you want this next task to be a suicide mission. Six weeks.”

  “Ancestors save me. I thought you two were the best in the game.”

  “We are. It’s what we have to work with that’s slag.” Lokmi made a face at him and then sighed. “I’m never going to get any sleep ever again, am I?”

  Noting Piras’s dismay, Kila nudged Lokmi. “We’ll try for five weeks, but no promises. Then we have to allow a week’s travel, escorting the Walls of Jericho to Galactic Council space to drop off the women.”

  “Oh yeah,” Lokmi said, smacking his forehead. “I forgot how slow the old Earther tub is.”

  “Slow but essential to the fight when we take on Maf’s fleet.”

  “That reminds me,” Piras said, though his conversation with Hope earlier that day had played over and over in his head as they’d toured the salvage yard. “Hope asked to stay on.”

  Kila started and stared at him. “With us? When we’re going into another battle situation, one which is much worse than the last?”

  Lokmi put his hand on the Nobek’s arm to quiet him. “In what capacity would she be joining us?”

  Piras saw the want in his eyes, the want he shared with his Imdiko. Though he still held onto that wish, he gave the same reason Hope had. “To fight. As a computer expert, not a warrior,” he reassured when Kila opened his mouth to protest. “I have to admit, she’s damned good with decoding and implementing clandestine programs. I wouldn’t have gained control of all those destroyer systems without her assistance.”

  Kila drew a deep breath. Maybe his desires quelled his instinct to automatically refuse, because no real argument colored his tone. “You’re tempted to bring her along with us.”

  “We need all the help we can get. Four raiders and an under-crewed battlecruiser are hardly an attack force.”

  “This isn’t her fight anymore,” the Nobek pointed out.

  “No, it’s not. But she wants in. She’s adamant about it.”

  “It can’t be the thrill of war,” Lokmi said pointedly.

  Piras smiled at his Imdiko. “I’m afraid to get my hopes up. If we’re honest, we have to admit it’s wrong to contemplate keeping her with us. Kila’s right on that account. We will be going into the heart of danger.”

  “Yet you’re thinking very hard about it.” Kila’s usual smirk returned, his eyes filled with appreciation. “From a computer technician standpoint, I’d put Hope against Uls any day of the week. We could use her expertise, especially when it comes to the battlecruisers Maf still has. And no, Lokmi, you don’t have to say it out loud. She is our perfect mate. I have no doubt about that.”

  Delighted to hear someone agree with him, Lokmi pushed his advantage. “We might be fools to bring her with us, but we might be even more foolish to let her g
et away. She’s a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions.”

  “But the risk is there, even with phase capability,” Piras insisted.

  “You make it sound like I’m not concerned about her.” Lokmi gazed at them in turn, his determination unwavering. “I’m talking about something neither of you has considered.”

  “Which is?”

  “We wouldn’t be having this discussion if she were a man. We’d welcome the help and not think twice.”

  “We’re in love with her though, and she’s not a man.” Kila uttered the words without hesitation.

  “You and Piras love me. I love you two. I’m pretty sure we’re each men, having gotten a good gander at all parts in question. Yet no one is fighting about any of us staying behind.” Lokmi shrugged. “I don’t believe Hope will think too much of us if we don’t treat her as an equal.”

  Piras had nothing to say to that. The men gazed at each other, each silently weighing the idea, considering all the ramifications. For Piras’s part, he’d been sure he had no business taking Hope with them, no matter how his being screamed against leaving her behind. No matter how much he wanted to make her a permanent part of their lives.

  Kila probably wanted to punch Lokmi for making sense when his Nobek protectiveness fought against the idea. He settled for a shove, nearly knocking his clanmate off his feet. He growled, “You never miss a chance to irritate the fuck out of me. You know how much I hate it when you’re right.”

  * * * *

  “Careful there, darling-dear-sugar. Love is going to make you as brainless as me.”

  Hope shook herself out of a daydream of Lokmi’s gorgeous smile, the one he’d given her as he was leaving for the Boneyard a couple hours ago. She stared at Charity’s smug visage, wreathed in a mockingly sweet sneer which was nothing like the Imdiko’s. Hope shifted on the backless, uncomfortable bench she sat on. “What?”

  The teenager hugged herself and spoke in besotted tones Her voice echoed in the nearly empty dining room of the house they shared with Clan Piras. “Oh, Piras, Lokmi and Kila, you’re all so handsome and daring. The men of my dreams. Marry me!” Charity snorted and the saccharine expression faded into a leer. “Or was your fantasy more disgusting, filled with naked man parts? I’m hoping for disgusting. They have two apiece, right? So it had better be sordid stuff you’re thinking about.”

  Hope looked at her in horror. Her face heated despite Charity being wrong about where her mind had drifted—this time. “Sweet prophets, Charity! Don’t talk like that.”

  “Hope’s in love. Looove!”

  “Stop it. Do your schoolwork and mind your own business.”

  Charity shoved the handheld device Lokmi had given her across the molded plastic table, where the two of them sat. “I need a break. Do you realize I’m on the math level of a ten-year-old Kalquorian? A ten-year-old! Those stupid so-called classes on Copeland’s ship ruined me. I’ve been dumbed down to the stage of an amoeba.”

  Hope was relieved at the change of subject. “It’s your own fault. Dad and I gave you teaching programs back on the Sword of Truth. You’re the one who didn’t keep up with them.”

  “I hate math. The lessons were boring. They always put me to sleep.” She leaned towards Hope, her eyes burning with interest. “Which do you like better, kissing Kila with his beard, or Piras and Lokmi with their smooth skin?”

  “Charity! You wouldn’t be talking like this if Dad were around.”

  “But he’s not, and I’m curious. You’re not going to Galactic Council space with me, are you? Or you’re not planning to stay, anyway. You’re want to run off with them to save the Empire.”

  Hope sighed and gave up on avoiding the worrisome subject. Charity was determined to get answers, probably anxious she was about to be abandoned. “I offered to go with them to fight the Basma, yes. I’ve since reconsidered. Especially in the last two minutes. I can’t leave you alone.”

  “Sure you can. I’m fifteen, not five,” Charity reminded her with a dismissive flick of her fingers. “Besides, I’m not going to be alone. I remember Uncle George and Aunt Ruth from back on Earth. Uncle George is a riot, and Aunt Ruth is a real peach.”

  Hope and Piras’s combined efforts had uncovered the location of her mother’s brother and his wife. They’d escaped Earth after Armageddon and had settled on a colony which the Galactic Council had established for refugees. Piras had agreed to Borey’s request that Hope and Charity be taken there.

  Hope felt a stab of guilt. How could she have considered for even a split second leaving her younger sister behind in order to stay with Clan Piras? “It wouldn’t be right for me to run out on you.”

  Charity rolled her eyes, giving Hope the urge to poke them. “Please do. If I have to watch you mope around, waiting months for your sweethearts to return for you, I’ll probably smother you in your sleep.”

  “Stop being ridiculous.”

  “I will if you stop being in looove.” Charity made wet smooching noises in Hope’s direction, pursing her lips out. She appeared as if an invisible vacuum was trying to suck her face off.

  Hope shook her head. In so many ways, Charity was well on her way to becoming a young woman. Yet she often acted as childish as a toddler.

  “It must be the hormones. You’re impossible,” Hope said, throwing a broken component of the sensor she was working on. Charity yelped and dodged the missile.

  “Deny it, then. Tell me you aren’t head over heels for the big guys.”

  “Dad would have a coronary if he knew.”

  “Please.” Charity treated her to another charming eyeroll. “He had to watch Copeland molest girls my age. He had to deal with that bastard executing innocent people in hopes of eventually destroying his influence. Do you really think he’s going to bat an eye over you losing your heart—and hopefully other parts—to three men who get as goofy-eyed when they look at you as you do when you stare at them? With your tongue practically hanging out?”

  Hope’s heart skipped a beat. Did Piras, Kila, and Lokmi look at her with the same want she felt? “No one is being goofy,” she insisted.

  “Hope. Dearest. The four of you make me want to retch. Even your Nobek brute’s eyeballs turn heart-shaped when you walk by. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so repulsively sentimental.” Charity made gagging noises.

  Hope wanted to deny it all, but it would have been a lie. She was in love with Piras’s clan. The weeks of traveling with them in the cramped shuttle had afforded plenty of time to get to know them. These last few days in the salvage moon’s staff village, long abandoned since the Boneyard had gone to full automation, had allowed plenty of opportunities to get sexually acquainted as well.

  It’s all ideal, at least from my point of view. They are perfect, each fulfilling all the bits and pieces of me, even the ones which are opposite each other.

  She emerged from her reverie to find Charity watching her. For once, her younger sister’s face had neither of its typical expressions of angst or haughtiness. In that moment, Charity seemed so much like their late mother that Hope was jolted to her toes.

  Charity’s hand covered Hope’s and squeezed. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll be okay with Uncle George and Aunt Ruth. Stay with Clan Piras. Be in love. Be happy.”

  Hope swallowed against the lump which rose in her throat. She turned her hand over so she could grip Charity’s. “What kind of universe is it where the young, sheltered teenager counsels her older sister on matters of the heart?”

  “The universe where the older sister is a dumbass.” Just like that, Normal Charity made her return.

  Hope yanked away. “It would serve you right if I left you with Uncle George and Aunt Ruth. I’m tired of hearing your bullshit. The act gets old, you know.”

  Charity laughed at her. Unrepentant as ever, she grabbed her handheld and left the room, heading down the hallway to her private quarters. When the door swept shut behind her, it blessedly cut off her chortles.

  Hope rubbed he
r face, praying for strength. For the will to not board up the door to her sister’s room, trapping Charity within until she was a far more decent adult.

  In maybe sixty years? “Make it seventy, just to be sure,” Hope muttered.

  Yet she had to admit her sister had made some pretty good points. Hope would be safe but miserable away from Clan Piras. Forever worrying over if they were in trouble out there, fighting the Basma. Wondering if they would remember her when it was over. If they would come back for her.

  The war could last for many more weeks. Even months. Hope thought of waiting that long and couldn’t imagine it. Right or wrong, she needed to go with the men she didn’t want to live without. Even though the guilt wanted to choke her. Even with her father’s imagined disapproval. Perhaps his condemnation.

  Following her heart—was it an unforgiveable offense?

  Hope was glad for Charity’s exit a minute later when she heard the door to the outside open in the next-door greeting room. Piras’s call, “We’re back,” made her whole body warm and her heart speed up. She rose from the bench, rubbing its hard abuse from her ass. Kalquor hadn’t gone overboard with the luxuries for its former salvage staff.

  “In here!”

  The clan walked in, and Hope felt a sappy expression take control over her face. She remembered Charity gagging, but it couldn’t dim her delight. Not when she also replayed Charity’s brief moment of being a decent human being.

  Stay with Clan Piras. Be in love. Be happy.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t Hope’s decision alone. The men had to agree with it too. She was afraid they’d refuse her in a misguided attempt to keep her safe.