by Imogene Nix
The dusty, dingy little diner was full, even with its current state of cleanliness—or lack thereof. People from the surrounding offices didn’t care about anything except the incredible, well-prepared food at a reasonable cost. They flooded in, like waves to the shore. As one tide left, another swept in.
“Honestly, Simone. I’m going to try getting his attention one more time. If that doesn’t work, I’m out of there. I mean, how long can I keep trying?” Cara picked at the caramel tart she hadn’t been able to resist with the cheap metal fork and flicked the blob of fresh cream that sat on top to the side of the plate.
“You’ve said that tons of times before. Besides, what are you going to do to get his attention? Hmm? Walk naked through the typing pool?” Simone bobbed the straw in her smoothie as she eyed her friend with a frown. “It’s been what? Eighteen months since you saw him, and you’ve mooned over him from a distance ever since you met him. You need to move on, Cara. That is, unless there’s something you haven’t shared?”
The query was arch. Cara shivered even as she shook her head. “No.”
Simone quirked an eyebrow, obviously unconvinced with the answer. Cara let out a deep sigh of frustration. “There’s a position...it’s only temporary, for a PA reporting directly to him.” She speared a forkful of tart, chewed quickly and swallowed, before continuing. “In his office, full-time for the period of the engagement. I saw the memo yesterday. I mean, I have the skills, right? I can type, answer phones, make coffee, file, greet people. What’s more, I can probably do it better than all those size eights in the typing pool that Ms. Jackman seems to prefer.” She nodded thoughtfully. “All I have to do is get past the ogre in Human Resources.”
Simone stared at her, disbelief clear on her face. “Girl, I so remember that woman. If you think you can get past her, you’re doing better than I ever did. That’s why I left Veha Industries, remember? Maybe it’s time to haul out your resumé and consider some other options. Look for something better.” Simone shook her head and billows of her crimson hair swirled through the still air.
Cara understood Simone only had her best interests at heart. But this time she knew the outcome would be different. Hell, she could feel it in the air. The tingle of expectation.
“Cara, the HR ogre will hang you out for breakfast before she offers you anything like a position in that office. Remember her mantra? Good looks and good work make for a positive workplace!”
Simone didn’t sugar-coat anything. It was another great reason for their long- term friendship. Honesty. But Cara didn’t want to hear the truth in the statement. Even if it was exactly as her friend said.
Cara nodded quickly. “Yeah, I know, but if I don’t try, then I won’t know how close I can get to him, right? And the only way to catch his attention is to get past her and see him in person.” Cara quaked a little at the information she needed to share. The favor she needed to ask. “Anyway, I tidied up my resumé and dropped the application into a memo envelope yesterday, so it’s too late to back out now. I mean, fortune favors the brave. Doesn’t it? If I don’t snag an interview, I’m going to visit the career advisor across the street and register with them.” She shrugged. “I’ll look for temp work until something more long-term shows up. I can see what they have on offer and well...who knows? Maybe a job with the right boss is just waiting for me. But I’d rather this worked out, to be honest.” Her voice trailed off into a whisper. “I really wish he would notice me.”
Simone took a long slurp of her banana drink, and Cara noticed her questioning gaze even as she squirmed. Finally, Simone nodded. “It’s your funeral. So anyway, you’d better show me this memo if you want me to be a referee for you. I’m guessing that’s what you need, right? I’ll have to know what I’m supposed to say about you before they ring.”
Cara smiled. “Thanks, Simone. I knew I could count on you.” She slipped a piece of paper out of her handbag and handed it over. “Sorry it’s a bit creased. It was in the bottom of my bag, I stashed it so none of the others from the pool would see. You know how it is.”
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Star of Ishtar
Warriors of the Elector
Book One
* * *
The first time Elara laid eyes on Grayson was when he rescued her from the clutches of a madman and his scientists who were kidnapping humans and conducting horrific experiments on them. That was years ago. In spite of her attempts to deepen their relationship, they remained nothing more than close friends.Now Elara is a medic with the Admiralty, and she knows what she wants. It’s been Grayson since the beginning. When Elara is stationed on the Star of Ishtar, she arrives with a plan to further her career. But this time her plan has an added bonus—to finally get her man.
Grayson’s spent years fighting the connection between himself and Elara. He’s certain it only exist because he saved her life. But his will is failing, and he fears he just might give in to temptation.
_______________________________
“I finally made it.” Elara Sudonne watched as the hull of the Star of Ishtar loomed in the inky darkness. She clutched her hands tightly together as the shuttle approached the hulking battleship.
This would be her new home and first combat ST placement for the Earth Empire. She quaked inwardly with nerves but fought to keep her serene exterior. Previously her deployments had consisted solely of on-planet expeditions and in rehabilitation and dirtside facilities. When the chance had arisen to move to the battleship, she’d grabbed it with both hands.
The frigid air chilled her bones as she sat in her shuttle seat, but a trickle of sweat inched its way down her back under the fresh gray wool flight uniform. Little puffs of vapor escaped her mouth as she rubbed her arms. Nerves stretched tight, she looked through the small portal at the front of the vessel. She wanted to tug at the collar that somehow seemed to have grown tighter as the ship loomed ahead, but instead she firmed her mouth, straightened her spine, and concentrated on the future.
“So damned long.” She’d been working toward this outcome since the day Grayson Myatt and Duvall McCord had saved her from her Ru’Edan captors. She was lucky, she’d survived the ‘experimentation’ of the Ru’Edan leader Crick Sur Banden’s scientists. “And all I have to remind me are my scars.” She didn’t grin at her own joke.
The person seated behind her jostled but she ignored it, lost in her memories. On that day, so very long ago, the young Elara, fresh-faced and with idealistic views of the empire, was taken from the mall where she’d been shopping with friends, thrust into the back of a transport vehicle, and given to the Ru’Edan scientists to experiment on.
For days they’d worked on her and others, seeking an average pain threshold of humans, slicing her skin then noting reactions and how long it took to heal. They’d cut her arms, body, and even her face, and now she carried the extensive scarring of the exercise as a reminder to herself and others of what they were fighting for. Freedom. The freedom of Earth and its allied planets.
She’d never relinquished hope, it had been her constant companion as she fought against the all-consuming terror. Then they’d found her in that dirty, disused warehouse. They’d found others too, in various states of death and decay. The smells of despair had filled the air with a fetid ripeness that she’d never been able to forget.
Since that day she’d promised herself that she would pay the Ru’Edan back for what they’d done to her. What they’d taken from her. Over the years, she tempered and honed the rage while remaining adamant that she would see the final act played out. She couldn’t physically fight, but she had learned about trauma, knew it and understood how it affected a person, and used it as a weapon.
The iron will forged through her experiences had fed her determination, and she’d applied herself to study, finishing in the top ten percent of her
class. She entered the medical program at the academy, working hard to excel. Her family remained supportive if perplexed as to why she had chosen to keep reminding herself of what had happened.
The maw of the Star of Ishtar loomed closer, opening its cavernous mouth as she watched through the portal. She could hear the voices of the shuttle crew signaling their intention to enter and land, the tinny confirmation coming swiftly. She watched avidly while the shuttle maneuvered, imagining the invisible shields dropping to allow it entry.
Her hands twisted with fear and anger, but she tamped down her emotions. Anger never helped anyone. Staying strong, knowing your history, and ensuring it couldn’t be repeated, they were the answers, she told herself firmly, pulling herself from the grip of a dark past so horrific she still saw it in her dreams. She pushed it away to the recesses of her mind and focused on what she was about to do.
A squark overhead, the usual mechanical sound that alerted all on board to a transmission by the captain, caught her attention. “Attention all passengers. We are entering the shuttle bay. Please ensure when you disembark you remove all personal items. Move beyond the white line and wait for your designation.”
The lights of the bay flashed as they entered, and once again Elara marveled at how far humanity had moved since they had first walked the Earth. She saw the opening of the structure as the shuttle moved into the bay, inching forward slowly until it stopped its ponderous motion and began its descent to the floor. Something deep inside warmed even as the shuttle’s environmental systems began to synchronize with the cooler temperature of the Star of Ishtar, and she felt a smile crawl its way over her face.
Elara breathed in deeply, inhaling the metallic-tasting, recycled air and welcoming the calmness that settled on her body. Her eyes closed as she filled her lungs. “I’m here.” There was more than a little satisfaction in her tone, and she smiled. She slowly exhaled, finding that center of peace she relied on.
A loud thud and clank echoed as the deep drone split the air. The engines were powering down, and there she was, on one of the Earth Empire’s Emeritus class battleships. She sat in her seat, waiting for the all clear from the captain, and once it sounded through the cabin, she rose, tugging at the webbing belt and disengaging it.
The small backpack beside her was all she carried as she made her way to the exit, not needing to duck as so many others did. She stepped through the door, her hands gripping the rail of the cold, metal stairs which connected to the side of the gray shuttle.
She clambered down them slowly, savoring the experience. The sting of the cold on her hands from the stairs, frigid from even their brief exposure to the blackness of space, made her flinch inwardly. The shuttle journey from the Admiralty’s strategic base at Aenna to their current position had taken just over an hour, but the whole time it felt like her heart had been in her throat. Her mouth was dry as she followed the new recruits from the ship into the landing bay. She stopped, silently noting the slight mustiness of the air, the recycled quality easily recognizable. Everything, including the oxygen, needed recycling in space.
All around her people swarmed, either around the ships or into the dogleg line that now formed ahead of her. Someone had opened the baggage locker of the shuttle, and the sound of dropping bags hitting the plascrete floor echoed in the air. Another crewmember guided trolleys to the other side of the shuttle, pulling out boxes with important day-to-day items for the ship, including vaccines and plants. She watched briefly, all the while listening to the alien cacophony. Voices called in welcome to old crewmembers, while new ones watched, many goggle-eyed in the fresh uniforms of newly minted officers and crewmembers.
Her gaze flicked around quickly, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells, pungent with oils and grease; burning smells from the scorched plascrete and the press of sweaty or nervous bodies. She joined the line silently, tacking onto the end, and stayed at parade rest, knowing the welcoming voice would cut through the air soon enough. She felt somehow disconnected from the main throng. Perhaps the knowledge that this was the outcome she had worked for years to achieve set her apart. However, still, she felt so...distant from everything around her. She smiled secretly at the bout of whimsy.
“Attention!” The voice boomed out over the plascrete of the docking bay, and she snapped her body into position, noting the commander who had bellowed the words. Technically, she outranked most members aboard the Star of Ishtar, except for the command and leadership staff, but she knew all newcomers had to join the welcoming parade, regardless of rank.
Fleet Captain Elphin came into view, his tired features topped by salt-and-pepper gray hair, which highlighted his cool blue eyes. Elara also recognized a body prone to a little middle-aged thickness. Following behind him was his second-in-command, Duvall McCord. A young up-and-coming officer, his status as a fast-tracking officer heading toward his own command, with Elphin both his mentor and captain, had become almost legendary at the academy.
She looked closely at McCord, noting the dynamic drive of his actions and movements. Soon he would achieve a promotion to captain, and she rejoiced for her friend. She’d followed his career with interest and had to tamp down a smile as his eyes betrayed the shock of seeing her before settling into their flat command persona. So he hadn’t been apprised of her deployment, she noted, and she had to restrain the tiny feeling of surprise and satisfaction. She filed that snippet of information away.
She caught sight of the man standing behind Duvall. Grayson Myatt. He’d made her heart beat faster for years. Tall and blond with a muscular build and a sexy, tight, little butt, he had pools of deep-blue eyes that had always made her think of forever. He had a growth of stubble on his chiseled jaw, and her fingers itched to touch his perfect lips. Yes, since the day he’d found her in that nasty warehouse tied down like a ragged animal, she’d worshipped him from afar.
Now she had her opportunity to tangle with him, hopefully much closer than any chance that had ever come her way before. With a sigh, she pulled her gaze back to the captain and forced herself to concentrate on his words. She couldn’t afford to have her commanding officer angry due to her being distracted.
“Welcome to the Star of Ishtar. Most academy recruits want to join us because of what we represent, but on this ship, we only take the best of the best. So, if you made it here, you’re the ones we wanted to take a look at. Getting here is only the first step. Staying here is harder to achieve. Our people are the best. Earn your place, and in return, we’ll make you one of our crew—a member of the Star of Ishtar. Only the best and the brightest wear our uniform and badge. You’ll be expected to perform to your absolute limit then give some more. We don’t tolerate people who don’t pull their weight. Do us proud and wear your uniform with pride.” The captain looked out over the new members of his crew. His voice had echoed during his speech, and now it died away.
He scanned the faces before him, and she could almost read his thoughts. There were new security officers and a smattering of other crew. Some of them were young and impressionable, and she knew a few wouldn’t make the cut as crewmembers. Others would carve out their place on the Star of Ishtar and move to better positions and placements, like she would: the new SurgiTech, a younger female, experienced but untried on board a ship. She smiled at that thought.
Some of those who stood with her would be replaced as they failed the exacting standards the captain set. She’d heard that he was a firm captain, fair but demanding. He’d have to be to command this ship. The Ishtar had well over five hundred at full capacity, and the captain could select their placements as his command staff saw fit from the many who applied to join the crew. She sensed his satisfaction with the choices in the relaxation of his body.
Abruptly, he turned to Duvall, breaking her study of him. “Get them to where they need to present themselves.” His words echoed as he walked away. He had a purposeful stride. Quick but unhurried, like he knew where he was going and how to get there. A man who knew how to get what h
e wanted. Someone to respect and admire.
“My name is Commander Duvall McCord. I am your second-in-command, and my direct subordinate is Commander Grayson Myatt. While you are aboard the Star of Ishtar you will be required to fulfill your duties efficiently. As Captain Elphin said, do your job right and you will be one of ours, with all the benefits that come with being a crewmember of the Star of Ishtar.”
He paused and eyeballed each of the newer recruits, those fresh from the academy. Many of them paled under his gaze, and she smiled inwardly. Even the older people in the line seemed to quake beneath his scowl. He’d always had that air of innate authority, even when barely out of the academy himself. She knew his methods and watched him make full use of the carefully practiced tone of presence.
“Each of you has been assigned. You will present yourselves to the chief of your section. Those details will be found in your orders. Commander Myatt has organized a team to escort you to your cabins. You will have approximately one hour to prepare. We’ve arranged for crewmembers to escort you to your superiors. Be ready to present for duty. Any issues, you will, of course, take up with your section commander. Should there be need to take any further action, you will see Commander Myatt. You should only see me if you are a command crewmember or as a point of discipline. I am not one for small talk, so if you present to me, have a very good reason.”
He delivered the words slowly and deliberately, and Elara restrained a small smile on hearing at least one gulp from those in the line nearest her.
“We run a tight ship here. Discipline and commitment are the two key factors we look for beyond loyalty in our crew. You will from henceforth represent our ship everywhere, and we do not tolerate anything less than the best.” He looked around once more, the stern demeanor he wore so well reinforcing the message. If she hadn’t known him for so long, she too might have missed the hint of humor glinting in his eyes, the one many took for coldness.
