by Ivy Barrett
Rather than continue debating past norms, Kellan looked at Jasmine. “What are your feelings on this subject? Would you prefer to be a homemaker or find some form of employment?”
She sat with her back against the bulkhead, legs drawn up toward her chest. “I can’t answer that until I know where I’ll be living.”
Possessive anger washed over Kellan, narrowing his gaze. “Are you still considering other pods after what we just shared?”
“That’s not what I meant, but it is my right if I decide this won’t work for me.” She scooted off the other side of the bed and snatched Zilrath’s jacket off the floor. “I have thirty days to make my final decision. This courtship has just begun.”
Zilrath didn’t look pleased by her answer either, but his tone was conversational when he asked, “If you weren’t referring to the thirty-day clause, what did you mean?”
Seeming less defensive within the subtle protection of the jacket, she explained, “At Protectorate Headquarters there was no opportunity for employment, while Camp Accord is very communal. They barter with others for what they need because no one had actual money. The situation at Fort Benning is sure to be very different from Kellan’s ship. That’s all I meant. Until we decide where this pod will live long-term, the rest is rather moot.”
“And if there are opportunities for employment, is that something that interests you?” Kellan wanted this issue settled so that they could move on to more enjoyable pursuits.
“Again, I can’t answer that. Boredom has been less of an issue at Camp Accord than it was at Protectorate Headquarters. Time goes by faster if I stay busy.”
“Boredom will not be an issue once we have a child, or two.” Kellan punctuated the statement with a smile, but she didn’t react.
“I will want time with my children as well,” Zilrath stressed. “That will free up time for you to fulfill your personal goals. Not every female is satisfied with being a homemaker.”
She held the jacket close with one hand and placed the other on Zilrath’s shoulder. “We can work out the details once I’ve made my final decision. Any conclusion we come to right now is speculation.”
Zilrath merely nodded, so Kellan said, “We better get moving if Zilrath is to keep his appointment.”
Zilrath pulled on his pants before he asked, “Are you going to shuttle back and forth between Fort Benning and the Elizian?”
Kellan shook his head. “I’ll mol-port. There’s no reason to tie up one of the shuttles with a simple commute.”
“Why do you even need shuttles if you can just zap yourself wherever you want to go?” Jasmine wanted to know.
“Many shuttle missions require more than just transportation. Science teams often require access to the ship’s computers, as well as scanners and com systems.”
“That makes sense.” She fiddled with the front of the jacket. “What about the shuttle we left by Hanging Lake?”
Kellan stroked the side of her face, then tilted her head back until she looked into his eyes. “Our shuttles are largely automated. I simply commanded it to go home. Why are you stalling? I thought we were beyond all this.”
“She’s afraid to be alone with you.” Zilrath tried to hide his smirk but failed.
“I am not afraid of him,” she insisted, but Kellan could sense her uncertainty. “Let’s go.”
“You picked me up at my office,” Zilrath said. “Do you have the coordinates for my house? It’s on the other side of the base.”
“I do.”
“Then you two can settle in while I take this meeting.”
Kellan’s gaze swept up and down Jasmine’s body as he said, “Fine by me.”
“I know how Ventori bonding works,” Zilrath warned. “If you fuck her while I’m gone, I’ll need to join with her alone before you can have her again.”
Kellan crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his podmate. “You’re not Ventori. That’s only true between Ventori males.”
“We don’t know that.” He looked at Jasmine and ordered, “Do not let him come inside you. That includes your mouth.”
“You really think she could stop me?” Kellan smirked. He didn’t intend to fuck her again until Zilrath returned, but Tavorian arrogance irritated him.
“If you take her again, I will know, and expect reciprocation.”
“And the tug-of-war begins again.” Jasmine shook her head, clearly frustrated by the conflict. “I will decide when or if either of you ever fucks me again. Keep up this crap, and it might be a very long time!”
* * *
Freshly showered and adorned in clean clothes, Zilrath sat behind his desk, pretending to be busy. He had conflicts in need of resolution and suggestions galore, but his mind refused to focus on anything other than the female awaiting him at home.
At home? The phrase made him sigh. Earth was not his home, and the house assigned to him at Fort Benning was exactly like all the houses available to human officers. He found the rooms confining and artificial. The dwelling lacked color or any reflection of his personality. So why had Jasmine made him think of home? She was infinitely more intriguing than he’d expected—beautiful, intelligent, and remarkably perceptive. He could picture a future with her far more easily than he’d ever thought possible. Unfortunately, a future with Jasmine meant a future with Kellan, and that prospect was not nearly as enjoyable.
Commander Kellan Styre was Ventori to the marrow of his bones. Everything was black or white with the stubborn defender. He was arrogant, domineering, and unreasonably strict with Jasmine. Kellan had spent his entire life in the military, so his attitudes were understandable. Still, comprehending the environment that had resulted in his personality didn’t make it any easier to live with him.
A soft knock drew Zilrath’s attention to the door. “Come in.”
The barrier swung inward, and Vikrin Karsath strode inside. Zilrath had requested Vikrin’s assistance, so his arrival wasn’t a surprise. His garments, on the other hand, were shocking. On Tavor, gatekeepers always wore long, hooded robes, and had for centuries. So seeing Vikrin in jeans and a sweater seemed odd, unnatural. Like all the Tavorian refugees, Vikrin had escaped with the clothes on his back and not much else. Desperate refugees had no choice but to accept what they were given no matter how out of character it seemed.
Vikrin’s coloring and basic appearance were classic Tavorian: smoke-colored hair, sculpted features, and pale skin. Still, he had two distinguishing characteristics that made him stand out. Even tightly braided, his hair reached his waist, and his eyes were a vivid shade of blue. He was Prime Gatekeeper, a position that had meant more when there were hundreds of gatekeepers. Now there were only eight, including Vikrin. Well, nine if they counted Azra, Zilrath’s half-brother.
“How can I assist you, Minister?” The mockery Vikrin put on the title was impossible to miss. “Your message didn’t explain.”
Zilrath pushed back from his desk and stood. He’d known Vikrin most of his life. As children, they had even been close. But their lives took different paths in adolescence and friendship turned to casual acquaintance. “I didn’t explain because I’m not sure about the nature of this meeting. My sister’s mate asked for a private conference away from human and Ventori strongholds. He also asked that we tell no one where we’re going.”
“Was I requested, or am I just your transportation?”
“He wants both of us there,” Zilrath stressed.
“Where is ‘there’?”
“An outdoor theater called Red Rocks. It’s near the military base to which we were first taken after the evacuation.” They had all been dispersed to different locations since, so the venue was centrally located. If there was a more significant reason for the chosen location, Zilrath was unaware.
“I remember the place,” the gatekeeper said.
To relieve boredom and prevent the resulting squabbles, the humans had offered tours of various attractions in and around Colorado Springs. Zilrath had been too busy
to accept the invitation, but Vikrin and most of the other refugees had gone.
“Are you certain Farina’s mate can be trusted?” the gatekeeper muttered. “This is highly unusual.”
“I trust my sister with my life. Her mate...” Zilrath shrugged. “He’s never given me any reason to mistrust him.”
“That’s not a very convincing recommendation.”
“If you want me to be honest with you, it’s the best I can offer.” Vikrin stared back at him silently, so Zilrath went on, “If you’re not willing to accompany me, I understand. I would appreciate it, however, if you opened a portal for me. I’m curious enough to accept the invitation.”
Vikrin’s cerulean gaze narrowed. “I am not afraid of the unknown. Of course I will accompany you.”
Zilrath hadn’t meant the explanation as a challenge, but he wanted Vikrin with him, so he’d take it. “Let me tell my assistant I can’t be disturbed. The idea is for no one to realize we’ve left.”
Vikrin nodded once, then walked over to the window and stared out into the late afternoon glare.
Rather than opening the door, Zilrath contacted his assistant telepathically. I am not to be disturbed for at least the next hour. I’ll let you know when this mess is resolved. He infused the thought with gruff impatience, hoping to discourage questions.
Of course, Minister Nomani. I’ll make sure of it.
Pleased by the determination in the young male’s response, Zilrath pinched off the link and turned toward Vikrin. “I’m ready when you are.”
The gatekeeper walked to the middle of the room and executed a complex series of hand gestures. Zilrath had seen Azra open portals often enough to know that the ritual was largely for show, but it also helped the gatekeeper concentrate. A thin vertical fissure formed in front of Vikrin. He took a deep breath, then spread his arms, expanding the opening.
Through the portal, Zilrath could see a cloudless sky and the jutting red rock formations for which the amphitheater had been named. Vikrin motioned him forward, so Zilrath stepped through the portal. The familiar numbing rush swept him toward his destination. For a moment everything went black, then he emerged on the other side.
He stood at the top of the seating area. Row after row of concrete seats had been formed along the steeply sloping ground. Each long row was backless and edged with a stout wooden border. At the bottom of the tiers, a large stage stood bare and forgotten, a metal frame supporting the partially collapsed canopy.
Vikrin passed through the portal, then turned and closed the opening. “No one else is here,” he concluded after looking around.
“I thought it wise to arrive a few minutes early. Didn’t want to step into a trap.”
The gatekeeper’s only response was a tense nod.
The afternoon was cool, the sun bright yet oddly ineffective against the thin mountain air. Pine trees lined the rock formations that formed a natural perimeter, and their scent drifted on the breeze.
Suddenly the low hum of an engine drew Zilrath’s gaze toward the sky. A small shuttle flew into view, banking sharply as it positioned itself to land in the wide, flat area to Zilrath’s left. Instinctively, he covered the pulse pistol strapped to his hip. He didn’t often feel the need for a firearm, but this entire situation was odd.
The shuttle set down, and a hatch opened, a set of stairs descending to the ground. Small, boot-covered feet appeared on the stairs, and then the tall, trim body of a female dressed in human clothing. Zilrath didn’t relax until he saw his sister, Farina’s pretty face. Tatsim, her mate, descended next, but there was no sign of the bodyguard that generally accompanied them.
“Zilrath,” Farina greeted with a friendly smile. “I’m so glad you came.”
He embraced her and acknowledged her mate with a nod. “If anyone else asked, I would not have. What’s this about?”
“I need you to trust me,” she stressed, her expression earnest, eyes wide. “And you must promise to keep an open mind.”
The tension her presence had eased returned tenfold. Zilrath believed no one simply because they asked for his trust. Then an odd distortion in Zilrath’s peripheral vision caused him to whip his head to the side. The fluctuating outline of a person moved toward him. Zilrath drew his weapon and tried to aim it, but the odd distortion was gone.
“Stay calm,” Farina urged. “He means you no harm.”
The reflective effect slowly shifted, then dispersed revealing a tall, fully armored Yashonty warrior.
“Have you lost your mind?” Zilrath shouted at his sister, his pistol locking on the intruder.
“He’s with us!” Farina quickly moved in front of Zilrath and pushed his arm down. “Listen to what he has to say. If you’re not interested, that will be the end of it.”
Still tense and mistrusting, Zilrath looked around carefully, searching for other shielded warriors. The Ventori suspected the Yashonty had or were working on camouflage shielding, but Zilrath had never seen it in action before. He saw nothing out of the ordinary in his surroundings, so he reluctantly slipped his pistol back into the bracket on his hip. How in all the occupied galaxies had this Yashonty contacted Farina and her mate?
Vikrin moved to Zilrath’s side, shoulders squared, chin lifted to an arrogant angle. “Identify yourself,” he prompted the Yashonty.
The Yashonty’s eyes nearly glowed with lavender fire surrounded by his blue-black skin. A bony ridge dissected his head horizontally, extending from temple to temple. White hair grew below the ridge, while the upper portion was smooth except for the intricate white markings decorating his hairless scalp.
“I am Commander Ramnyth Dulvet,” he began in heavily accented Ventori. “I represent a multi-species coalition determined to rid this universe of the Skarilians.”
Zilrath’s appointment to the High Command had exposed him to information that wouldn’t have been available otherwise. “If your focus is the Skarilians, why do you keep attacking the Protectorate?”
“I have no other choice,” Ramnyth insisted. “This star system is extremely remote. In many cases, Protectorate ships are the only source for supplies and armaments essential to our cause.”
“So contact the Protectorate and arrange some sort of trade. Your goals are not that dissimilar to theirs.”
The Yashonty commander clasped his hands behind his back as he meandered closer. “Our goals might be similar, but the means by which we achieve them couldn’t be more different.”
The simmering rage inside Zilrath made defending the Protectorate’s refusal to attack first difficult. Part of his nature wanted to spill Skarilian blood and keep spilling it until the galaxy had been purged of the vile pestilence. But the more rational part understood that genocide was never the solution, and collateral damage must be avoided at all times. “The Protectorate refuses to endanger the innocent. I happen to agree with them.”
“We’ve located one of their strongholds,” Ramnyth told him. “But we have no way to reach it.” His strange lavender eyes shifted from Zilrath to Vikrin. “That’s why I asked to speak with the gatekeeper. The Skarilian home world, or at least one of their primary bases, is in the same dimension as Tavor. If you open a portal large enough to fly our ships through, we will finally end this war.”
Features twisted with shock and disbelief, Vikrin looked at Zilrath. “Is this possible?”
“I don’t know,” Zilrath admitted. “How were you able to learn about their location if it’s in another dimension?” he asked the Yashonty.
A secretive smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “I have no problem exchanging information with an ally. As of right now, we are enemies.”
Farina crossed behind Zilrath and stood at his other side. “Why would you even hesitate? The Skarilians murdered millions of people and left our planet a burned-out shell. They must be stopped!”
After acknowledging her outburst with a look, he continued his conversation with Ramnyth. “Your interest is in Tavorians exclusively? You have no intention o
f working with the Protectorate?”
The Yashonty smirked. “Then the rumors are true? You’ve saddled yourself with one of those spineless Ventori? How unfortunate.”
“My personal life is irrelevant to this discussion,” Zilrath insisted, but he knew it wasn’t true. His new pod, not to mention his potential mate, had changed his perspective and his priorities.
“All I need from you is discretion.” He turned back to Vikrin as he said, “You, on the other hand, are the reason I’m here. Ask the other gatekeepers if they are willing to facilitate the attack. I honestly see no reason they’d refuse.”
“That could take time,” Vikrin objected. “Each gatekeeper has been assigned to a separate location. I would have to go to each one personally. Ventori communications are always monitored, as are my movements. It’s harder than you might think to sneak away.”
The Yashonty crossed his arms, his lavender gaze narrowing. “Aren’t you telepathic?”
“Only with blood relatives.”
Zilrath watched the exchange with growing trepidation. He needed to control this situation, but he had no leverage.
“You have seven days,” Ram said firmly.
“I’m not sure I can do it that quickly,” Vikrin insisted.
“You’ll find a way. I will contact Farina eight days from now. Give her your answer by then.” Without waiting for Vikrin’s response, the Yashonty reactivated his camouflage shields and disappeared from view.
Chapter Five
Unlike Protectorate Headquarters or Camp Accord, Fort Benning was still a thriving military base, a human military base. Jasmine spent so much time surrounded by aliens that she’d nearly forgotten that pockets of human civilization had survived the Skarilians. The house assigned to Zilrath sat on the crest of a hill, allowing her to see beyond the subdivision. The land undulated into the distance, interspersed with trees and a variety of buildings. Despite its militant function, the area looked peaceful, miraculously unmarred by war.
