by Ivy Barrett
“What are you talking about? I just agreed to compromise.”
Zilrath didn’t turn around, but he looked back over his shoulder. “You’ve been trying to control this situation ever since we left Protectorate Headquarters. I might not be as physically aggressive as you, but I’m just as much a male.”
Kellan felt threatened, and he wasn’t sure why. “I command a starship. Controlling situations is second nature to me.”
“I’m not on your crew, and my authority and responsibilities easily equal yours.”
“This isn’t a competition, Zilrath. We are partners, not adversaries.”
He pivoted one-quarter turn, so his side was to Kellan, but he didn’t have to twist his neck so far around. “You can be very condescending.”
“I don’t mean to be.” He didn’t want to escalate the argument, but he was confused by Zilrath’s animosity. “What have I said or done that you found condescending?”
“It’s your general attitude. Many Ventori feel like we are inferior beings.”
“Odd, that’s the way I feel about most Tavorians. It seems like you keep to yourselves because you think you’re better than everyone else.”
They glared at each other for a moment. Then a reluctant smile bowed Zilrath’s lips. “Our mate isn’t the only one who has a lot to learn. This alliance is going to be more challenging than I realized.”
Kellan smiled as well, though the expression was slightly manufactured. “She’s one hells of a motivation for making the effort. I’ve never been this fixated on a female before. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“I’m right there with you, brother.” He added the last word after a quick hesitation. “I agree to negotiate when I am uncomfortable with your chosen means of punishment, and I will address the issue away from Jasmine.”
“Good. Then I agree to consider your suggestions and try to be less condescending.”
Zilrath nodded, and Kellan thought the conversation was finished. Suddenly the Tavorian asked, “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Consider yourself better than me?”
The question was so preposterous that he nearly laughed, but Zilrath was serious. “I would never have agreed to bring you into my pod if—”
“Why is it your pod?” he snapped. “I am just as qualified to be pod leader.”
Zilrath’s arguments were so irrational that Kellan found it hard to answer seriously. “Pods are a Ventori custom. It makes more sense that I lead.”
“I don’t disagree, but you didn’t even ask my opinion. You presumed I would have no objection.”
Releasing an exasperated sigh, Kellan scrubbed his jaw with one hand, then asked, “May I be pod leader, or do you have a rational reason for wanting the position yourself?”
“Now that’s condescending.”
Kellan threw his hands into the air and released a string of Ventori profanity. “You’re worse than a fucking woman!”
“And you’re a bloodthirsty barbarian!”
Kellan burst out laughing. This was ridiculous. “You’ll have to try harder than that, my friend. I don’t find either of those words insulting.”
Zilrath’s gaze narrowed, but the tension slowly left his face. “Let’s focus on Jasmine. She seems to be the one subject on which we can agree.”
Kellan nodded. “If she won’t split her time between Fort Benning and the Elizian, then one of us needs to commute. But leaving her at one place or the other gives that person an advantage.”
“This isn’t a competition,” he reminded with a smirk.
Kellan started to confront the provocation, then realized Zilrath was joking. Understanding each other’s sense of humor would go a long way toward helping them coexist. “My quarters are compact compared to the visitor suits at Fort Benning. I suppose it makes more sense for me to come to you.”
Surprise lifted the Tavorian’s brows. He hadn’t expected the acquiescence. “I agree, but we could let her choose.”
Kellan shook his head. “We need to have a specific plan when we meet with her tomorrow. It will show her that we’re serious about making this work.”
“All right. We could also rotate locations. That way she can see each of us in our element, so to speak.”
After a thoughtful pause, Kellan nodded. “I like that idea a lot.”
“Great. Then she’ll stay at Fort Benning, and you’ll come to us for a week, or would two work even better? Are you allowed entire days off?”
“I take time for myself as often as circumstances allow. Even commanders need sleep from time to time.”
“I’m not sure how much sleep we’ll be getting, but I have no problem with a fluid arrangement.”
Finally. They were making progress. “Will she find activities to fill her time while you’re working?” The question made him uncomfortable. “I’d rather one or the other of us was with her at all times.”
“The majority of my work is done during the day. Which hours do you generally work?”
“I’ve never held myself to a schedule before. When things need to be dealt with I deal with them. When I’m hungry, I eat, exhausted, I sleep. There has never been a reason for rigid structure.”
“That will need to change,” Zilrath said casually.
Kellan bristled, suddenly understanding why his earlier presumption annoyed Zilrath. “You expect me to adapt to your schedule?”
Zilrath shook his head and sighed. “Here we go again. I only meant that your schedule seems more flexible than mine. Can you offer an alternative?”
The haughty Tavorian was using Kellan’s own words to mock him. But Kellan had too much to do to continue the pointless argument. “Let me speak with my first officer. Once he learns that we are courting a potential mate, he’ll assist in any way he can.”
“Be careful,” Zilrath said with a knowing smile. “Wasn’t that how you ended up with command of the Elizian—Chancellor Savator went off to court his mate?”
Kellan acknowledged the similarity, but he wasn’t as attached to the ship as Bron had been. To Kellan, it was just a job, while Bron had commanded the Elizian for so many years that it had been painful when he let go. “If I have to choose between my ship and my mate, I will choose Jasmine without hesitation.”
* * *
“We just received telemetry from the probe, sir.”
Ramnyth Dulvet snapped his head toward his communications officer, then gave himself a firm mental shake. Ram had been daydreaming again, imagining life without war and filled with pleasures he’d given up decades before. A soft, willing female and children to welcome him home. This star system was making him weak, tempting him with situations unattainable to any Yashonty warrior much less one in a position of authority. Even the fantasy was beyond his grasp until the Skarilian scourge had been eradicated.
He straightened his uniform and squared his shoulders. He commanded the finest warship in the Yashonty fleet. He must be a strong example for this crew, and all the other commanders, which meant no more daydreaming!
“I’ll analyze it in my quarters,” he told the com-officer. Then to his second-in-command, he said, “Moxtel, you have the con.”
“Very good, sir,” the com-officer replied.
Moxtel left his seat at the science station and moved toward central command, but his expression was tight, gaze slightly narrowed. “Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you?”
Moxtel’s scientific background would be helpful in understanding the readings. “You’re right. I could use your expertise.” He looked at the head of security instead. “Belton, you’re up.”
Ram and Moxtel left the command center as Belton took control of the ship.
Like all the Yashonty, Moxtel was leanly muscular. His black skin possessed a deep blue sheen that contrasted sharply with his white hair and lavender eyes. “I can’t believe it worked,” Moxtel muttered as they walked down the corridor side by side.
Ram agreed though he’d never admit
the fact even to his first officer. Several weeks earlier Moxtel noticed odd energy spikes emanating from Protectorate Headquarters and eventually identified the source as an interdimensional portal. Having interacted with Tavorians in the past, Ram suspected that Azra Nomani was generating the portals to teleport his podmates back and forth between Tavor’s dimension and Earth’s.
When the Skarilians attacked Tavor, Ram told Moxtel to scan for similar energy spikes. The only way the Skarilians could have arrived in Tavor’s dimension as quickly as they had was if they too possessed the ability, or technology, to open interdimensional portals. The energy spikes were never detected, so Ram moved on to a different conclusion. The Skarilians had been there long before the attack.
He’d sent several probes programmed to search for the unique energy signature generated by Skarilian ships through the portal with the next energy spike. It had been a literal shot in the dark, but miraculously one of the probes found its target. Two days ago, preliminary readings had indicated a cluster of Skarilian ships not far from Tavor.
Ram’s cabin was one level down from the command center, so they took the stairs. After triggering the door with a facial scan, Ram crossed the main living space and poured a drink for himself and Moxtel. Drinking while on duty was against the rules, but it had been a long time since they had anything to celebrate.
Moxtel took the glass Ram offered but hesitated to drink. “I’ll join you if the readings are as useful as we hope.”
“Fair enough.” Ram moved to the padded bench against the far wall and sat. Yashonty ships were fast and deadly, not luxurious. “Display readings from probe six-two-nine.” A holo-display activated in front of him, and the information appeared in three neat columns.
Moxtel sat beside him so he could see the readouts as well. “These ships were in motion,” he indicated one row of figures, “but these are inactive.” As if to confirm his conclusion, a series of grainy images slowly scrolled across the display. He selected one and expanded it. Row after row of Skarilian ships stretched across a flat area, a field or maybe a maintenance lot. “Mother Creator, this isn’t a remote outpost. This is a major hub.”
Tension gripped Ram’s gut, a potent combination of excitement and dread. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Have we just stumbled across their home world?”
“I don’t know, but this is amazing.” Moxtel raised his glass and tossed back the shot, then selected the next image and expanded it. A massive complex of buildings filled the horizon, creating a perimeter around the ships. “Even if it’s not their home world, hitting this target would be the first real damage we’ve dealt them in years.”
“I agree,” Ram stressed, then his excitement deflated, leaving a hollow ache deep in his chest. “And all we need to facilitate an attack is a Tavorian portal large enough to accommodate our fleet.” They looked at each other. Moxtel’s expression filled with hope. Ram’s filled with doubt and frustration. The Tavorians didn’t cooperate with anyone. They were xenophobic fools content to bury their heads in the sand. Or they had been before the Skarilians targeted their planet.
“They’d never betray the Protectorate.” Moxtel easily guessed the direction of Ram’s thoughts. “If it weren’t for the Protectorate, many more of the Tavorians would have died.”
“Then we must convince them that helping us doesn’t betray the Protectorate. We all want the same thing—the destruction of Skarilians.”
“I doubt the Tavorians will see it that way.” Moxtel turned back to the readouts, releasing the images so he could analyze the other information.
“I have to try,” Ram decided. “We cannot let this opportunity slip away.”
Pausing the readout, Moxtel turned toward Ram. “How will you even talk to them without alerting the Protectorate of our plan?”
Ram grinned at his longtime friend. “I already made contact with one of their leaders. Well, the sister of one of their leaders, but she assures me that they’re still close.”
Moxtel chuckled. “When did you have time to play spy? We’ve been ridiculously busy lately.”
“When I was supposed to be sleeping.” He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. “And it’s catching up with me.”
After deactivating the display, Moxtel pushed to his feet. “Get some sleep. I’ll share this with the department heads.”
Ram nodded, too exhausted to do anything else.
* * *
“You have a visitor, Jasmine. She’s waiting in Sintar’s office.”
Jasmine looked up from her breakfast the following day to find Nikki Romano smiling at her. “She’s waiting?’” The only visitors Jasmine was expecting this morning were Kellan and Zilrath, and she had no idea when they would arrive. “Who is she?”
Nikki shrugged. “Sintar didn’t say. He just asked me to come get you.”
Sintar. Jasmine inwardly smiled. Only his mate got away with calling the governor by his first name. He was one of the most intimidating males Jasmine had ever met, and she’d spent time with the chancellor. Nikki was so easygoing and quick to laugh. It was hard to imagine her with the grim-faced Ventori. But Nikki insisted she was thrilled with her mates and didn’t regret anything.
“I’ll be right there.” Jasmine quickly finished her coffee and took her plate to the pass-through window in the kitchen. The all-purpose room was currently set up like a dining room, each of the round tables filled with people enjoying the morning meal.
Jasmine walked down the hall and into Camp Accord’s headquarters, aka the former school’s main office. She gave her name to the young Ventori seated in the reception area. He paused and his expression went blank, a sure sign of telepathic communication. His vision cleared a moment later, and he smiled at her. “Go right in. They’re expecting you.”
Unnerved by the unexpected visit, she smoothed down her hair and slowly pushed open the door. The governor sat behind his desk, as usual. Two chairs faced him. In one sat a female Jasmine had never seen before. She appeared human, but Jasmine had learned to take nothing at face value anymore.
“Come in,” the governor encouraged. “Have a seat.”
She slipped onto the chair beside the other female, feeling unusually awkward. “Am I in trouble?”
The governor offered her an encouraging smile, but his black lips and rugged features made it look slightly predatory. “This is Celeste Mortenson, Special Envoy for the U.S. Secretary of Alien Affairs.”
“That’s quite a title,” Jasmine said as she shook the envoy’s hand. This was the woman who’d pressured Kellan and Zilrath to form a pod. It wasn’t too much of a surprise coming from the chancellor, but human diplomats were supposed to protect humans. Weren’t they?
“Please, call me Celeste, and no, you’re not in trouble.” The envoy had her long blonde hair done up in a simple twist. Her eyes were bright green, skin fair. Did she own stock in sunscreen or spend her entire life indoors? Her shapeless business suit made her look neat and professional, but asexual despite her pretty face. Celeste had already set her plan in motion. What could she possibly want with Jasmine?
Never one to mince words, Jasmine glanced at the governor then looked at the envoy again. “Why am I here?”
“It’s our understanding that you are still considering a possible courtship with Commander Styre and Minister Nomani.”
The only person at Camp Accord who knew anything about this was Nikki. Jasmine shifted her gaze back to the governor, annoyed by the implication. “You’ve got your mate spying for you now?”
His smile was utterly unapologetic.
“Governor, would you mind if I spoke with Ms. Aldrich alone for a few minutes?” Celeste asked, apparently sensing the rising tension.
“Of course not.” He pushed to his feet. “Take all the time you need.”
The envoy waited until the governor left before she spoke again. She pivoted in her seat so she could see Jasmine without turning her head. “Have you made your decision about the courtship yet?”
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“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Jasmine was quickly deciding she didn’t like this nosey bitch. “I don’t know what you used to force Kellan and Zilrath to form a pod, but you’ve got nothing on me.”
Celeste crossed her legs, hands resting lightly on her lap. “I proposed the union. I don’t deny it. But I never forced anyone to do anything.”
“Then the chancellor must have,” Jasmine easily concluded. “Kellan spent his entire life in the military, so he’s conditioned to do what he’s told. But Zilrath isn’t used to taking orders from anyone. Savator had to have some way of coercing him into this mess. There’s simply no way he would have volunteered to join a Ventori pod or bond with a human. It’s against everything the Tavorians stand for.”
Celeste had the decency to look regretful. “That wasn’t my intention when I proposed the alliance, but it was obvious they were going to refuse. Chancellor Savator took matters into his hands.”
“And what did Savator use to motivate them?” She put sarcastic emphasis on the word motivate. Threats and intimidation were the Ventori’s favorite strategies. She was grateful they’d fought back the Skarilians, but she still resented their presence on Earth. The Ventori paradigm relegated females to roles they had worked hard and sacrificed much to escape. Breeder or pleasure giver? Neither was an acceptable choice for a modern American.
“Chancellor Savator threatened to banish Commander Styre and remove his protection from the Tavorians,” Celeste admitted. “It wouldn’t have been my choice, but your mates responded quite nicely.”
“Nicely for whom?” Jasmine’s tone was harsh with sarcasm, but she didn’t care. Now she would always wonder if they were only courting her because the freaking chancellor gave them no other choice.
“Can we be candid with each other?” Celeste asked.
“I’m always candid, probably too candid at times.”
The envoy’s smile reached her eyes this time. “Then we should get along just fine.” Her green gaze drifted around the room, then narrowed. “We better have this conversation outside. I want to discuss this without input from anyone else.”
