The Exxar Chronicles: Book 03 - Acts of Peace and War

by Neal Jones

  "I trust you understand why we aren't spending our first night together in your chambers," Prokal said, removing his uniform jacket.

  "Of course," Vatra replied, laying her veil in the nearby armchair. The sitting room was quite spacious, and the holoscreen on the far wall displayed a view of the city. Vatra crossed the distance to it while unbuttoning her bodice. "Breathtaking, don't you think?"

  "Yes," her husband agreed, unfastening his collar and removing his shirt. He laid it aside and then gently embraced Vatra from behind. "I know what you must think of me," he murmured into her ear.

  She turned to face him, welcoming his arms around her. She looked into his eyes. "Then tell me, because I am not sure myself of what I should think of you."

  He smiled, and she was surprised by the genuine warmth in his dark eyes. "You are afraid of me. You think that I am cold, distant, and that because I wear a uniform I am a stern man."

  Vatra could only nod, waiting for him to continue.

  He leaned down to brush his lips against hers. "You also think that I am strange because of my faith, because I follow a religion that is considered backwards and primitive by most of our people."

  "Yes," she finally whispered, too anxious to say anything more.

  He nuzzled her ear, the same lobe that Sierik had bitten only hours before. "Relax, lady princess, I am not your enemy, and even though I have been with only one woman in my whole life, I knew how to please her well."

  Vatra almost laughed out loud, but caught herself in time. One woman?? Was he serious?

  "Computer, dim lights by forty percent." The room became filled with shadows as Prokal fumbled clumsily with the remainder of the buttons on her bodice. She helped him and then let the dress fall to the floor. She was grateful for the darkness because he wouldn't see the hole over her crotch that Sierik had ripped earlier. Prokal reached behind her to unzip the undergarment while trying to nibble playfully at her neck. He only succeeded in giving her pain, and she winced as her underwear pooled around her ankles beside the gown.

  Prokal lifted his bride, now only in her underlace and carried into the bed chamber. He laid her on top of the bed and then proceeded to finish undressing. The light in here, too, was dim, and Vatra was horrified to see that Prokal was actually older than his face appeared. His hair was dark, with only a few streaks of gray at the temples, but that which covered his chest was thinning and had turned silver long ago. Nor was his chest as firm and masculine as it appeared when he wore his uniform, and Vatra knew even before he revealed it what his cock would look like. Even though it was only half hard, it was obviously only four or five inches in length; definitely much shorter and not anywhere near as thick as Sierik's, or even Tiegran's.

  As soon as he was naked, Prokal climbed on top of her and began kissing his wife, as clumsy with his tongue as he was with hands. She could taste the foulness of whatever tea he had consumed at the feast, and she struggled not to gag as he forced his tongue through her lips. He removed her underlace from both her waist and her breasts, and he pinched her nipples, too hard, and Vatra winced again, resisting the urge to cry out in pain.

  Now he was trying to enter her, and that, too, proved a difficult task for the great second lovar, and Vatra realized just how long it had probably been since he had last made love to his late wife. He was clearly inexperienced with foreplay, and with sex in general, for once he was inside of her, he began to thrust himself in a most unceremonious and unloving manner. Vatra gasped from the pain, and Prokal made a most un-masculine sound as he pounded her. She finally realized that he, too, was gasping, but it was coming out in short, quick breaths that sounded like squeaks. His thin pelvis was banging against hers, and were she not in so much pain, Vatra would have found the entire scenario laughable to the point of hysterics.

  Prokal gave one final, squeaky gasp, and then rolled off his new bride, his small cock making a gentle plop as it left her. She wasn't sure what to do, and, in truth, she was aching so badly down there that she didn't want to move for several minutes at least.

  Prokal went to the bathroom to fetch a towel. His thin form was even more unflattering in the harsh light from the room's doorway, and when he returned he had another towel for Vatra. She wiped herself, and then rolled onto her side to face him. He tossed his towel aside and crawled beneath the covers beside her.

  "I hope that I have pleased you, lady princess," he said softly.

  "Yes," she said solemnly. "Yes, my lord, you have."

  He smiled, like a boy who has received a great compliment from his tutor, and he kissed her forehead. "Don't worry. I have no seed to give you. A childhood illness left me barren."

  "Oh," was all Vatra could think to say. "I'm sorry."

  "It's all right. Evening star, my wife."

  "Evening star," she murmured.

  He pressed the com panel beside the bed to douse the lights, and then rolled onto his side away from her. She rolled away from him, settling her spine against his, and closed her eyes.

  She was so exhausted that she fell asleep before Prokal uttered his first snore.

  ( 5 )

  "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Vatra leaned down to look through the viewport over her son's shoulder.

  Jharek nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah," he said, but his tone was sad.

  Vatra laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We will be back someday, Jhar. This world is our home, and we're only leaving it for a time."

  He looked up at her. "But for how long?"

  "I don't know," she said honestly, "but it won't be long. I promise."

  He smiled then, and she drew comfort from it. He turned back to the viewport, and Vatra settled back into her seat beside him.

  The Jha'Drok battle carrier K'lat N'vor, flagship of the 26th Legion and personal command of Second Lovar Prokal R'Daak, angled out of orbit of the Jha'Drok homeworld. Its stern prow sliced the invisible currents of space as the ship set course for distant stars. As soon as it was clear of the homeworld's gravitational field, the stardrive engines came to life, and, in a flash of blue-green brilliance, it was gone.

  Part One

  __________________

  "Principalities And Powers..."

  Chapter 1

  ____________________

  ( 1 )

  THE SWORDS RANG WITH THE MUSIC of steel upon steel as their blades clashed and then separated, and then clashed once more.

  "Good!" Lieutenant Grynel Sikandra called out, panting, as she spun and came back around for another thrust.

  Commodore Marcus Gabriel, commanding officer of starbase Exxar-One, blocked Sikandra's thrust and parried, spinning her blade away with enough force to knock it from her hands.

  The two officers paused, the exercise over for the moment, and Gabriel moved to the nearby bench where his towel draped next to his sword case. "I must be getting good," he quipped, mopping his brow. "That's the first time that move has worked on you."

  Grynel nodded, retrieving her sword. "You're definitely improving. You've learned enough moves by now that you really had me guessing."

  "It almost didn't work. I wasn't sure you would throw your weight to the left."

  Sikandra grinned, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. She had barely broken a sweat. "It's my weakness. I tend to favor that side, and it never matters how much I practice otherwise."

  Marc laughed. "I'll definitely remember that." He sat for a few moments, catching his breath. "I like the Kali'Fhan sword better than my old one. I would never have gotten this much of a workout with that épée."

  Grynel was about to respond when the door opened, and they both looked up to see Major Kralin Saveck. He was carrying a sword case, and he appeared startled when he realized the exercise room was still occupied.

  "It's all right, major," Gabriel said, rising. "We've finished our session for today."

  Kralin stepped into the room and set his case down on the bench. "You are practicing Kali'Fhan?"

  "I've been teaching him a t
hing or two," Sikandra said, smiling with pride. "He's come quite a long way in just six months."

  "Hmm," Saveck grunted.

  "Would you like to spar with me for a bit?" Marc asked, his tone light.

  Kralin smiled thinly. "No, commodore, I doubt it would be an even match. I wouldn't want to...injure you."

  "Well, maybe in another few weeks, then." He clapped the major on the shoulder and then reached for his towel and sword case. "See you tomorrow, Grynel."

  She nodded. "Commodore." After he was gone she turned to Saveck, cocking her head. "You two seem more...comfortable with each other."

  He shook his head as he opened his case and withdrew his sword. "It's not me. There's something different about him."

  "No, you've changed as well. There's a lot less tension between the two of you."

  Saveck scowled but said nothing as he removed his shirt and stepped back to take a few practice swings with his sword. Grynel watched him for a few moments, her own weapon gripped in her right hand, poised at her side.

  "Well?" Kralin said after a minute or two. "Are you just going to stand there and watch, or are we going to spar?"

  She smiled and raised her sword. "O'nott qu'vey."

  "O'nott qu'vey," Saveck repeated. It was a traditional phrase that signaled the start of a proper duel.

  Sikandra backed up to a good distance and then planted her feet, her sword raised, her gaze fixed on Saveck. He circled for several moments, his expression utterly calm, as he searched his opponent's stance for a weakness. Sikandra had never sparred with the major before, though she'd been eager for an invitation. He almost never came to the gymnasium, preferring instead the virtual reality of the Hiver rooms, and Grynel was glad that he'd made an exception today.

  Moving as fast as a treecat, Kralin lunged forward, thrusting low and to the left. Sikandra blocked and parried, and they stood back once more, circling and watching. This time she moved first, feigning left and then thrusting right. The blades clashed, steel rang, and he tried to force her back, but she held her ground. Sikandra looked into his eyes, searching for a crack in his stoic veneer, but his eyes betrayed nothing. His concentration was perfect. She could finally hold it no more, and she fell back, bringing up her blade just in time to block his downward blow. She ducked, rolled, and came up on the other side of the mat. He spun to face her, and she closed the distance, thrusting with all her might, but he blocked at the last second.

  Back and forth, forth and back they went, around and around the mat, their blades singing, and Grynel now understood why Kralin hadn't worn the customary armor. He knew that she had no chance of wounding him. Her workout with Gabriel had already exhausted her, and she took a quick moment to wipe her brow, panting, while Kralin calmly circled. Only a thin sheen of sweat appeared on his broad chest, and Grynel reminded herself not to be distracted, just as he chose that moment to charge.

  Another round of parry, thrust, clash, thrust, and parry ensued. Sikandra could see that Saveck was maneuvering her into a corner, but she could barely keep up with his reign of blows. He was moving too fast, his blade slicing the air with such rapid chops that she could feel the breeze on her skin. At last she stumbled, and she threw her sword at his feet.

  "N'ttom!" she cried. Surrender.

  He grinned, reaching down to pick up her sword. "A good match, lieutenant. You lasted longer than I expected."

  "Thank...you," she panted, accepting her blade, and limping to the bench. "I forgot that you were an instructor at the War Academy."

  He nodded, moving to the center of the room once more. "I won the Klara'Sihn championship both years that I was there."

  "So why don't you participate in the annual tournaments on Chri'Siron?" Chri'Siron was the native term for the Chrisarii homeworld.

  He shrugged, turning his back to her as he moved across the mat in a fluid combination of advanced moves. "Kali'Fhan is an art of war, and there is no point to it if you're not willing to kill your opponent."

  "Ah. Well...I suppose that makes sense if you take the art that seriously."

  Saveck paused in mid-swing, turning to Sikandra with a humorless smile. "Exactly. Kali'Fhan was once a great and revered art of combat strategy, and now it's associated more with those Klara'Sihn tournaments than the art of war."

  Grynel sat back, bemused. "Yet you won two championships at the War Academy."

  "I participated in those because I had to. It was a matter of...decorum more than anything else."

  "Ah, I see."

  Kralin gave her an irritated look. "Are you going to spar another round with me?"

  Grynel took the hint and stood. "No. The room is yours. But you and I should have lunch sometime. I think we'd have a lot to talk about."

  He didn't respond as he watched her leave, and she smiled to herself as the door closed behind her.

  ( 2 )

  "Mmmmm, that's nice," Christine Navarr murmured, rolling onto her side and opening her eyes.

  Doctor Sam Eppler smiled as he continued to nuzzle his girlfriend's bare neck. "Have I told you lately how much I enjoy it when you sleep over?"

  "I think you've mentioned it once or twice," she said, wrapping her arms around him.

  He rolled on top of her, intertwining his naked form with hers. He continued to kiss his way up her neck, eventually arriving at her lips. "I think waking up like this every morning is much better than a stupid alarm."

  "We're going to be late for work."

  "I don't have to go in until noon. I'm covering the ER this week."

  "Well, I have to be in my office in –" Chris craned her neck to peer over at the com panel on the nightstand "– oh shit! In half an hour!" She wriggled out of Sam's embrace and raced for the bathroom. "Why the hell did you let me sleep so late?"

  "Your shift doesn't start until eight!" He followed her into the bathroom and started the shower. "You just go into your office an hour early because you suffer from some strange need to be an overachiever."

  Chris was in the midst of brushing her teeth, and she spat an incoherent sentence at him.

  Sam laughed. "Come on, the water's hot." He stepped in the shower and held the door open for her.

  She rinsed her mouth and then joined him in the cramped stall. "There's barely any room for me," she complained.

  "Oh shut up, and just let me do my thing. Here, switch me places." As soon as she was under the spout he began to soap her down. When he was finished he kissed her, and she found herself melting beneath his charm – and his nakedness. His hands massaged her as they worked their way down her chest, her abdomen, her –

  "No, Sam, I'm serious!" she said, laughing. "I can't be late. If you wanted to do this, you should have woken me up twenty minutes ago." She finished rinsing herself and then stepped out of the stall.

  "Oh, come on," he teased. "I can make it quick!"

  "I'll bet you can." Chris hurriedly dried herself and tossed the towel into a corner. "Have fun! I'll see you tonight."

  ( 3 )

  Lieutenant Jeff Ritano kept his eyes closed, pushing away the hand that massaged his chest and started to work its way downward. "Not now, Mike. I want to sleep just a little longer. Please."

  Staff sergeant Michael Frakes sat up on one elbow and peered over his boyfriend's shoulder. "Fine. But you're going to be late. It's already six-thirty." Jeff groaned as he rolled over, and Mike reached for his pajama pants. "Scrambled eggs? Toast?"

  "Sure, thanks." Jeff hauled himself into a sitting position and rubbed his face. "Fucking docking ports. I hate working the checkpoints."

  "Well, maybe it will be a slow day."

  "Yeah, right. It's never a slow day on a station like this."

  Mike frowned, glancing over his shoulder. "How's your knee?"

  Jeff waved dismissively as he padded to the bathroom. "It's fine." Two days before, a Zimmeran smuggler had tried to make a run back to his ship after failing a security scan at the checkpoint. Ritano had been forced to chase him through the line o
f passengers waiting at the checkpoint, and he'd tripped over someone's luggage.

  While Mike left the bedroom to get breakfast started, Jeff switched on the shower and reached for his toothbrush.

  ( 4 )

  Doctor Benjamin Rosenberg, Exxar-One's chief medical officer, was in the midst of changing a diaper when his daughter, Emalie, hollered something from the bedroom.

  "What?" he asked, trying to keep his three-month old son from squirming.

  "I said, where's my blue dress?"

  "What blue dress, sweetheart?" Ben picked up Jeremy and tossed the dirty diaper in the reclamator. Emalie emerged from her bedroom in her pajamas. "Why aren't you dressed yet?" Ben demanded.

  "Because, daddy," she said with an exasperated tone, "I can't find my blue dress."

  "Well you're going to have to wear something else." Ben headed for the kitchen, and Emalie followed.

  "But I like that dress, and mommy said I could wear it today."

  "I don't know what to tell you, Em. If you had laid it out on your chair last night before bed you wouldn't have to be hunting for it this morning." He paused beside the food processor and accessed the menu. "What do you want for breakfast?"

  "Daddy, I have to find my blue dress!"

  Jeremy began wailing, and Ben shifted his son from one arm to the other so he could lean down to face his petulant daughter. "If you don't get back to your room and find something to put on in the next five seconds," he barked, "you are going to start your day with a sore behind!"

  "Fine!" she sulked, storming out of the kitchen.

  Ben sighed as he pulled the bottle from the processor and sat down at the table to feed Jeremy. The infant sucked greedily while his father began running through his mental calendar for the day. Emalie finally returned to the kitchen, dressed in a green and gold jumper, and she plopped angrily into a chair at the table across from her father.