by Imogene Nix
Ms. Delfray’s voice tinkled in the air, cutting through his thoughts. “Well, Chowd. You must be terribly busy.”
“Indeed.” What does she want?
“Perhaps, when the formalities are concluded, you could—” She breathed deeply, enhancing her already impressive cleavage, and leaned closer. “—show me the hidden places of the ship.” Her voice dipped at the same time her hand did below the tablecloth to find his thigh. She glanced under her thick lashes as him, her ruby-red lips partially open, her hand questing higher toward his groin.
It felt like the movements of some eel slithering over his body, and he worked to stop the shiver of revulsion that overwhelmed him. His stomach curdled at the thought of this...predator...touching his skin. He gripped her hand under the table, returning it to the white-covered top, and smiled as blandly as he could. “I fear I have other duties that are pressing.”
She scowled slightly. The calculating hardness in her eyes that lay beneath her party-girl facade showed for an instant then disappeared in a flash. He had to work hard to remember what he’d seen there. He would need to watch her with not some little amount of concern. She could and would cause trouble.
Chowd was thankful to see the elaborate cream-coated dessert, flaming on a silver tray, now carried in by the ensigns in dress uniform just as his communicator badge beeped. He looked quickly at Duvall, who nodded infinitesimally.
He stood and moved slightly away from the table. “Chowd here.”
“Chowd, can you bring Gentry to the security offices?” His second didn’t make such requests without good reason, and he could hear the strain in his voice.
Chowd nodded once more silently to Duvall, who watched while he indicated to Meredith that she should also go. She stood gracefully, placing the napkin on the table, and smoothed down her uniform. Even in the midst of his concern, the pull of arousal tugged at him.
“On our way,” Chowd said to his second, then he snapped the small communicator closed.
Ms. Delfray stood, wobbling slightly on her silly thin heels, an almost winsome look on her face. “Chowd? Can I come?” Her attitude seemed as inappropriate as her footwear.
“Ms. Delfray, forgive me, but I cannot grant your request, as something of the utmost urgency has arisen.” He bowed stiffly before continuing. “Now, if you will excuse us.” They stepped through the exit together, moving swiftly toward the security offices.
Others sidestepped to clear the way as they marched along the decking. When he entered his office, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar red panels.
His second, Ah Run, waited, palm screen in hand and smiling slightly with relief as he handed the unit over. “We don’t know what to make of this. It’s obviously a transmission of some sort.”
Chowd indicated they should sit at his desk. “Meredith?”
“Pass it here. It might be something simple to decode.”
He handed her the unit with the glyphs on it, and she sucked in a breath.
“Yes, I know this particular code.” She dug around in her pocket before pulling out her personal unit. “This may take me a few minutes. Can I get a coffee while I work?”
He knew the tone now, she needed to talk to him. Privately.
“Sure. Ah Run?”
His second nodded, asking only if she preferred cream or sugar before heading off to grab the drink.
Chowd turned back to her. “Now what can’t you say in front of my second?”
“We’re about to be attacked. See this glyph here? That is attack. I think the next one is wait, but I can’t tell what this last one is off the top of my head.” She squinted at him. “But why can’t you decode this anyway?”
“I only learned what I needed to know. Crick... He never thought it was important that I should be able to follow the written language. My mother insisted I read and write the basic standard language of Earth, but...” He shrugged.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No. You needed to know.” Emotions swirled deep inside him.
When she opened her mouth to remonstrate, he laid a finger against her lips and shook his head. She subsided.
His gaze dropped down to the glyphs in front of her. Damn. He reached for his communicator. “Duvall? We have a situation. Can you get the guests to their quarters and meet me in security?” He heard the affirmative as the first explosion rocked the ship. “Where in Eshra’s name did that come from?” Chowd thrust out a hand to the wall.
The ship rocked and bucked, and he grabbed hold of Meredith’s hand as she reached for the table for support. Another explosion rocked the Elector as klaxons wailed and the lights turned red.
* * * *
The first explosion rocked the Elector. The second made her shudder like an addict coming off a high. Meredith, unable to stay still, found herself thrown against the table, the hard surface cutting into her flesh, and she cried out at the sharp pain. Chowd’s hand found hers as he steadied himself against the rocking motion of the ship.
Something had gone seriously wrong. The wailing klaxon warned her of their status—under attack. But how? Why now and how could they not know these enemies were close enough to fire on them?
“How did we miss the enemy ship coming up on us?” She couldn’t help blurting out the question.
Lines of concern bracketed Chowd’s mouth and forehead while worry clouded his eyes. “I don’t know, Meredith.”
She sighed, knowing her role right now was to decode this message and get the information to Duvall and Grayson. “I should deal with this, and you need to do your thing. I’ll be fine here, you go.” Her words were breathless as she righted herself, rubbing on a sore spot with one hand while the other started the process of the decoding.
For just a second the air felt thick with emotion before his “Stay here” filled the air.
He called together a team and headed out, and Meredith rubbed her hand over her aching eyes while listening to the creaking and groaning of the damaged ship. The noise in the background grated on her nerves, but she concentrated on digging deep within herself. Exhale. Inhale. Clear your mind, she told herself, finding her center. Then, opening her eyes, she scanned the message.
Her hands flew over the small screen as she instituted the protocols necessary for the decoding, uploading her software and watching the screen highlight glyphs. She checked each individually, cobbling together the message from the ones she knew and checking for details of the ones she didn’t.
“This can’t be right.” The message didn’t contain Ru’Edanian markers.
The knowledge hit like a blow as it descended on her consciousness. Their attackers were Phobon. “Dear Eshra.” The message flowed across the screen. Two glyphs stood out.
Cloaking.
Opportunity.
“They have cloaking technology?” Her voice sounded like a croak as she realized they’d attacked the Elector because they found an opportunity. The twin realization made her sick to her stomach, and she doubled over, nearly retching.
Meredith pulled herself together with great difficulty before continuing to double-check the message, her stomach churning wildly.
“I need to...” She printed the decoded message, the rat-at-at of the machine filling her senses. Meredith reached a shaking hand to her communicator. “Duvall? I have the message decoded and am heading to your office now. You’re going to want to see what I have.”
“Not the office. The bridge. I’m there now.” His voice was strained.
She rose, making her way across the floor. The ship still shuddered and yawed in space while acrid, oily air filtered through the room. The lights on the ship glowed a reddish orange as the ship changed security status.
People moved throughout the ship swiftly but calmly. Meredith saw a few injuries as she made her way to the front of the ship, their bodies coated in a black, sooty substance. Members of the engineering team had stationed themselves at various locations, mainly with spanners and
screwdrivers in hand, though some carried large black bags, the contents of which she could only guess at. The increased security presence stood at attention, armed and ready to offer support where needed.
Upon entering the bridge, she noted the ambassador sitting still and glassy-eyed in a chair near Duvall. Every now and then a trembling betrayed his fright, and she quirked a brow at her brother. He shook his head. She skirted around to his vantage point behind the command chair.
“What did you find out?” he asked.
“A few things. Firstly, they are Phobons—Phobos pirates. The attack was purely on the spur of the moment. They considered the Elector a first-class prize, and with the dual authorizations and insignias on the hull, they knew we were transporting something or someone of importance. But that isn’t the most concerning aspect. They have new technology. It’s some kind of cloaking, a sort of stealth mode that we haven’t detected at any point in the past. There hasn’t even been a whisper of it.” Her voice wavered. She tried to keep her voice down, but someone must have heard them.
“Cloaking stealth mode? Sweet stars, we don’t stand a chance.” The voice was choked, and she looked around to see a young ensign behind the captain. The deck went quiet at his words.
“Oh Barsha, Duvall. I’m sorry.” She felt ill with greasy waves churning in her belly at the young man’s words. I should have looked before I started my report.
She looked into her brother’s tense eyes. “Come on, Meredith. Show me what you have.” He gripped the palm screen she handed over and scrolled through the decoded message, grunting as his mouth tightened to a white line. He finally nodded, handing back the compact unit. “I’ll get Raven onto looking for some sort of emission trail that we can use to keep an eye out. For the moment though, we have another immediate issue to deal with.”
She raised her eyes to his. “What could be as important as this?”
“The ambassador’s assistant, Ms. Delfray, died in the attack.”
She started at his words. “What?” She hadn’t liked the woman, with the way she had looked at Chowd like a commodity for the taking, but she never would have wished her death. And now they would have to contend with the issue of a diplomatic assistant dying on the Elector. Thankfully, it hadn’t been the ambassador, but still...
“They were making their way back to their assigned cabins when a light fitting broke loose from its moorings, hitting her in the head as it fell. In front of the ambassador. He isn’t coping so well, but Elara’s just too busy at the moment dealing with the injured to work with him. Under the circumstances, we felt it was better to have him here, under guard, rather than left to his own devices in his cabin by himself.”
“Were there many other injuries?” She needed to know just how badly her failure had impacted the crew. Her stomach curdled at the knowledge that she should have known. If she had found the key to the documents, she could have warned Duvall and the crew. Her head ached, and she lifted a shaky hand.
Duvall sighed. “Thankfully not. A few broken bones, a burn, and some cuts that needed immediate attention. Ms. Delfray was, unfortunately, the worst of it, but I need to get Raven working on finding a way to pinpoint them before any further incursions, unless you have found something in the transmissions?” His voice sounded hopeful, but she shook her head.
“No. Sorry, Duvall. If I find something, I’ll let you know.”
Once more he became the captain, his voice brusque. “You know it’s not your fault, don’t you?”
She shook her head. “If I’d managed to...” The words petered away. Her failure...her guilt...all weighed heavily on her soul.
“Meredith, you did what you could with what you had. It’s not your fault.” She opened her mouth to disagree, but Duvall pinned her with a firm expression. “No. You’re only able to do what you can. Don’t take on a responsibility that isn’t yours. Now then, we won’t discuss this again. Can you get back to security by yourself, or do you want me to call Chowd?” He smiled slightly, and for the first time since the first explosion, the knot of anguish that lodged in her chest loosened.
“No. I’ll be fine. You get back to your work.”
He nodded, dismissing her, and she made her way past the ambassador, who looked sightlessly around the bridge. “Ambassador...”
The sightless gaze he bestowed on her reminded her she had nothing to give him. No offer to make things better. And, her mind chimed in, even if she did, he might construe something that wasn’t there.
“I’m sorry.” The inane words were all that came to mind.
He blinked owlishly and she retreated. She would be more useful to the crew decoding the messages, she reminded herself. The thought kept her going.
* * * *
He ached. Every inch of Crick Sur Banden’s body burned with fever, and he hated the way they stood around his bed, staring at him. Hot anger roared through his veins. He sweated and stank but didn’t care. He needed the relief of his Xeradax, and all would once more be well. His vision swam, and he shut his eyes against the vertigo. He reeled back, letting his head roll slightly as he caught an unsteady breath, trying to focus on those around him once more.
“Give me my drugs.” Even to himself, the words sounded slurred and loud. His head felt heavy, as if his neck couldn’t support the weight.
“My Lord. We don’t have any Xeradax here. We are trying—” The small medi-tech hovered close. Too close.
The voice stopped as Crick’s hand extended swiftly to grasp the doctor’s throat. The soft flesh beneath his fingers gave under the pressure, the face purpling before Crick’s gaze as the man tried to squirm out of the deathly hold. He felt a small punch of pleasure at the feeling and kept the pressure on, until a gargling sound filled the air, then he released his grip.
He stared at the fool kneeling on the ground beside him and took pleasure from the purpled skin tone and bulging eyes. They’d tried to take away his simple pleasure. They will learn. They will all learn.
“I will have my medication.” His grunt was forceful and the one on the floor flinched away.
“My Lord. I am working now to source a new supply for you. If you could stop terrorizing the medic? I am making for a planet nearby that assures me they have some in stock. Enough to at least give you some immediate relief from your present discomfort. There should even be enough to last until we reach Otega.” The voice of his second-in-command filled the air, and the pocket of fevered worry subsided within his chest.
“See? He is so much better than you.” He spat the words at the cringing coward and watched as he scuttled away on hands and knees, just like some kind of bug, Crick thought with pleasure. That they would make him give up his Xeradax was unacceptable. “Take us there immediately.”
“Yes, My Lord. I am arranging for the necessary adjustments to be made in our heading now.” His second bowed low, subservient under these trying circumstances.
Crick Sur Banden liked that. It made him feel superior even as his body refused to accept his exalted position, letting him down as he drooled slightly from the side of his mouth. He hated the weakness but took comfort in the knowledge that this would soon pass.
“My Lord...there is one thing. The Phobos pirates have used their stealth cloaking on the Elector. They have stated they’ve achieved some minimal success. They have also reported that the ship is traveling under dual authorization—Ru’Edan and Admiralty.”
Crick felt no concern at this trifling intelligence. His Xeradax would make him feel better, then he could concentrate. But something about the Elector elicited a strange feeling of hate. For just a moment, the answer danced beyond the tip of his mind. Then it snapped into focus.
Chowd. Duvall McCord. The Elector. A pulse leapt in his throat as he felt the anger and hate grow inside him once more.
He roared in anger. “Kill them! Kill them all, but I want Chowd. I want Duvall McCord. I want to tear them limb from limb.” His arms moved, mirroring his words, and he saw horror in the eyes o
f his cowering medics. His second watched him with a grim look on his face. He must have moved or made a sound, as his second hovered over him for an instant before stepping back away. “Wait!” Spittle flew as he demanded obedience and once more a wave of dizziness hit. “Wine. Bring me wine.”
“My Lord, will you take some sustenance too?”
“No. Just the wine.” He lay back down, feeling the soft bedding beneath his aching frame. “And turn down the temperature.”
“My Lord, it is already as low as we dare—”
“I don’t care! Turn it down now!” His voice filled the air, and he caught a quick exchange of glances between several of his men. What? Why? Do they think to mutiny? I will see to that. After my Xeradax and my wine.
A goblet of red wine found its way into his hands, and he lifted it to his mouth with shaking hands, uncaring where it came from, drinking deeply then noting the tart taste with a hint of bitterness. Bitterness?
“What did you put in this?” he growled as a fog descended on his mind. He fought against it, but darkness crept into the corners of his vision. The need to sleep, heavy and dark, filled him. “You drugged me...” The words skittered away as his lids closed over his eyes.
Chapter 4
Chowd scrubbed his tired eyes and glanced toward the dark cabin beyond, where Meredith had retreated in the early hours of the morning. He’d found her in the security offices, head bent over a small desk screen, going through transmissions, looking for similarities to help her break the codes. She’d been drawn and pale and he tugged her away in spite of her protests that she was fine.
The ship settled into an edgy kind of quiet routine, and while his whole body craved relaxation, his mind was alert to even the most minute action that would chip the brittle veneer of his control. He rested his head against the back of his seat, taking a deep breath, hoping to calm the agitation that threatened to overwhelm him.
