by Stella Cassy
Need slammed through me again, the slow strokes of his tongue pushing me toward the edge. “Love me Lehar. Harder.” He wouldn’t, especially now that he knew I was having his child. I‘d have to take control of that. I arched up into his touch, couldn’t have stopped if I had wanted to.
“Careful, my Lara.” His voice was thick, hoarse with his own need as pulled back. He stroked his cock once before pressing the tip against my entrance. Before he could make a move, I rocked against him, earning a low growl in return.
“No, trust me.” I raised my hips up and wrapped my legs around him as far as I could. He was too big for my legs to lock around his waist. I arched up, drawing him in a little more until he joined the rhythm. I closed my eyes as I met him with every thrust. He plunged deeper.
“Gods and spirits, Lara—” He muttered all sorts of untranslated words. The only one I understood was my name.
“Tell me what you just said later,” I said.
He said something else in his language as his body shook against mine.
An alarm screamed in the room and lights flashed, causing us to jump apart in panic. “What was that?”
“Emergency. A threat has been detected. Please report to battle stations immediately,” the ship’s computer intoned.
“Holes of the Universe!” He threw his clothes back on.
“Oh hell, who’s attacking us?” I struggled into my clothes too. “I’m coming with you, Lehar.”
“Of course you are. I want you close at hand.” I caught his hand and we raced out the door to the bridge.
20
Lehar
As soon as I entered the room with Lara, I called out, “Begin first level status,” to my bridge team. The viewing screens surrounding the room displayed video of our ship and Tarion’s in the light greens and browns of the landing field and the empty airspace surrounding it. All four stations’ battle windows were up and lit with activity.
I let go of her hand and buckled her into the left emergency seat by the door directly behind my station. I “Stay strapped in at all times.”
“I will,” she whispered, squeezing my hand. My muscles unclenched a little after she was secured, but the knot in my throat remained lodged there.
I went to my station beside Dashel and bent over the console. I placed my hand on the ID sensor and quickly entered my battle code. The center screen of my command console flashed: Red alert level, identity of opposition undergoing analysis.
Dashel bellowed, “Automatic return fire was deployed. Shields are holding at ninety-nine percent. Two cloaked ground roborockets were deployed along with two helirovers.”
“Status of ground units is pending,” Left Crew said from his station. “ETA of hit and miss stats unknown.”
“Status of air unit one has been reported with a hit. Estimated thirty percent damage to target,” Right Crew added from his station. “Air unit two’s H&M is pending.”
“Has enemy been positively identified?” I paced slowly behind my station. Fear that it was the Moset themselves grew but I hoped it was some rogue visitor.
“Not yet,” Dashel responded.
“The Pax, Nortians, and Lutoci were in the vicinity. Contact Neswove directly.”
“I already did, but there was no response,” he said.
Considering Neswove’s insolence earlier and his insistence on meeting with Tarion directly, it was not that surprising.
“The hit was long range,” Dashel said. “Enemies have moved out of sensor range.”
“Did one of his representatives try to contact us?” I asked.
“No.” He pressed his lips together and gave me a hard look. His thoughts were the same as mine.
“Their silence is answer enough,” I said. “Any communication from Hiels One?”
“Not yet, but our status has been relayed manually. Did your meeting with Neswove go that badly?” Dashel chucked, along with the rest of the crew.
“Apparently.” I bit back the curse on the tip of my tongue and sighed.
“Any way this could have been a warning shot?” Right Crew asked.
“From an enemy, yes, not a supposed ally,” I said. We knew his question was rhetorical. No one fired on a Hielsrane without expecting to be permanently extinguished. The only one who didn’t laugh was Lara.
I glanced over my left shoulder at her. She gave me a tight smile. There was no way she couldn’t feel the tension from the blindside Neswove had delivered us. My instincts about him had not been as clouded as I thought. His disrespect had been about more than my position but included all of Hielsrane and he had duped the centaurs into joining him.
“Computer connect to Captain Tarion,” I said.
Grim faced, Tarion appeared on the vidwin. “We were hit at with minimal damage.”
I glanced at Dashel who jumped to his feet. “Our damage was minimal as well.”
“I contacted Neswove,” Tarion said. “He is not responding.”
My caudal knocked against the base of chair. There was no doubt it was a simultaneous hit hoping to catch our shields down. Hielsrane shields were always up.
“Good, shield protocol was followed then, as usual,” Tarion nodded at the bridge team.
“Neswove is involved in the rebellion,” I said.
“They are the enemy now,” Tarion said. “Let’s get off their soil. I am sending Carissa and Matilda to quadrant four’s station. There is room for her, too, if you send her as soon as we leave their inner orbit. You can send her over in a cloaked shuttle and escort; they can double back.” He looked beyond my shoulder at Lara.
“Excellent suggestion.” I shot a worried looked over my shoulder at her. Her fists were balled in her lap. Her feet dangled from the chair. “You should go with them, especially now.” I directed my gaze briefly to her midsection. She crossed her arms over it.
“With Carissa and Matilda?” she asked. I nodded. She pulled at her collar. “I don’t know...” Lara said. Her brow was furrowed, hand over her stomach. “No, I’m fine. I want to stay.”
“She does not wish to go.” I exhaled. She wanted to stay with me, where I could watch after her myself and not send her with my crew. Her and my heir.
“She is strong like your Carissa, Sir,” Dashel said.
“Carissa is following my wishes. She’s a slave and should do as you direct. Put her on the shuttle and send her over,” Tarion said.
I looked back at her again. She shook her head vigorously, her face turning the color it did when I held her up to the porthole. I would have to pick her up and stick her in the shuttle. Tarion was correct, I could make her.
I turned to Tarion. “Send them without her. We’ll cover your liftoff and be right behind you.”
The screen went black.
“Automatic scan and intercept mode is on.” I pressed in the code.
Dashel yelled, “Crew, begin manual surveillance and defend.”
I walked over to Lara and she immediately took my hand in hers. “You may still join them.”
“No, Lehar.” I wanted her at an arm’s distance, not all the way on the station, to be at my side as would a mate. She was always doing things that made me treat her like a mate, think of her that way, too.
“If things get to a crucial level, the nursery will be sent, cloaked with a fighter escort. You could still go with them.”
“Do you think it will?” she asked, her eyes wide with fear.
“If the Moset value their future lines, they will retreat,” Dashel said from behind me and slapped a hand on the console without turning around.
“I doubt that will be necessary, even with a reduced fleet. They know Tarion and I are both here,” I said without a waver in my voice, drawing on my inner resolve. I adjusted her seat to the lowest level but only her toes touched the floor.
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” She gave me a tremulous smile. The junior crew didn’t look our way or acknowledge they had heard.
“Lara, secure your secondary straps,
the red ones, until we will reach orbit and clear the planet,” I said as much for her as much for the morale of junior crew. The left crewman relaxed back in his seat. Dashel’s position didn’t change nor did his attention. He had not seen as much battle as I had but knew enough to know that until we were in orbit, we were nearly as vulnerable as standing outside our ship.
I went back to my station and buckled in. “Prep for takeoff and standby.”
The crew clicked their belts into place, and I shot a quick check over my shoulder to make sure that Lara’s was too.
Her head jutted forward, eyes darting among screens, as if she were monitoring her own station. “Manual lift off begin,” I said, putting the computer into full automatic defense and fire mode.
“Cloak and deploy decoy lift off.” A projection of our ship ascended on screen above us. “Lift off.”
Once we were clear of their inner orbit, the ghost veered left and we went right. Tarion’s projections appeared, having followed to the right of us in the same emergency lift off protocol.
“Incoming fire, intercepted at eighty percent success rate,” the computer stated.
“Incoming,” Dashel said.
“Right lock, auto confirmed.”
Low vibration rolled through the ship, drawing a gasp from Lara behind me.
“Level three was hit by their scatter sweepers,” Dashel reported what was obvious on the screen in front of me.
“Fighter identified as a Moset Class B,” left crew yelled.
“Return manual fire and take them out,” I said.
“They have passed into legend,” Dashel said. “Worms of verse, two more have taken their place.”
“Incoming,” Dashel said, said as the computer reported the same and the battle windows and viewing screen lit up with red threat arrows.
“Left lock, auto confirmed.”
“Incoming fire, intercepted at one hundred percent success rate,” the computer stated.
“Ready manual fire and lock on to the new targets,” I said.
A shudder rolled through the ship. Another gasp came from behind me.
I stared at the screens as four more ships materialized behind us. How long had they been planning this?
“They have updated their cloak signature, just as we have.” Just as I knew Tarion was doing. “Repeat until the space is empty save for Hielsrane.”
21
Lara
The big panoramic screen, which wrapped around the entire room, was filled with beige, cone-shaped ships with flashing lights at the top and around the bottom. They surrounded Hielsrane’s oyster-shaped gray ones. The smaller screens showed them at a further distance. A glimpse of the real outside through the narrow windows near the top of the ceiling was clear.
I knew those half bunny aliens were no good. Lehar had known it too; he had been so grumpy when we first arrived, so unlike himself.
The computer’s incessant statuses of “Successful hit to target at location...” and “Hit sustained at level...” didn’t seem to faze anyone but me.
Statistics in some script I couldn’t read in red, greens, and yellows were blinking at the top of each station’s center console. I wished I could ask someone what they all meant, but judging from the increasing number of beige ships on the big screen surrounding our blue ones from the back, it wasn’t going well for us.
The ships outlined in blue and looked like a stack of— one, two, three levels— had to be ours. The largest with four levels must be Tarion’s. More single and double level ships in blue surrounded the two larger ones.
Lehar and Dashel sat at the two middle stations hunched in front of five smaller screens each, their heads and hands darting from one to the other and flying over the console with so many buttons and levers and keys it must take years to master them all. The screens had various views of the outside or what they were targeting, I guessed, with other screens full of blinking and scrolling symbols and text with tickers streaming by.
Vibrations rumbled, rattling my teeth and bones. “Primary damage detected on level three, operational capacity at seventy-five percent. Diagnostic analysis and repair underway...” the computer reported one system failure after another.
“Deathstars to you,” Lehar said, like they were playing a video game. Except for the occasional vibrations, and an intensity no game could mimic, it almost seemed like it was one.
“Yes!” Dashel yelled. More beige blinking cones broke up into hundreds of pixels and disappeared on the right.
The Drakon on the left did a drum roll on his thighs. I blew out a breath.
More beige ships appeared on the screen. Every time one disappeared, another popped up. My heart started thumping against my ribcage again so loudly I felt like everyone in the room could hear it. The commands and statusing between the four continued. Without looking at each other, their voices bounced across the large space.
I gripped the sides of the chair and closed my eyes for a second. I needed to do something, but I couldn’t do a thing to help them.
“Prepare to Target the mastership,” Lehar said. One of his screens zeroed in on a tan cone near the top middle of the screen. It looked the same as the others. I switched between his center screen and the gigantic one surrounding the room.
At first glance, the cone they were targeting appeared the same as all the others except for an extra blinking light at the top of it, which looked like an oversized star. It also appeared about fifteen percent bigger than the others, but only if I stared at it and then I wasn’t sure.
“All levels return fire starting now,” Lehar said.
“Affirm Captain. Level one initiated at main level,” the Drakon on the left of him said. “And up on level one.”
“Affirm Captain. Level three initiated at main,” the Drakon on his left responded. “But no response from level three.”
“Gods and spirits…” Lehar muttered and slammed a fist on the console. Dashel swore, ripping his seatbelt off to stand, jabbing and yanking control switches and buttons. “Proceed with main only and keep trying to connect.”
“With only twenty percent damage, the system will auto correct itself after analysis,” Dashel said.
“Send an emergency manual message to them,” Lehar said.
Lehar exchanged a quick look with Dashel. They looked at the other two, then bent their heads together and whispered. I swallowed. I wished I had a hydro pack. Dashel glanced at me and Lehar held up his hand and shook his head. Lehar threw his hands up and pointed at the Drakon on the right who, like the one on the left, was so busy looking from console to screen they were oblivious to the private meeting.
Were they talking about me? Or the crew? I leaned to the left and craned my head toward the door. All I could see was a strobing yellow light. I looked back at them and they were both looking my way. Maybe there was something I could do, but Lehar didn’t seem to want to ask me.
“Lara,” Lehar said. “If you see anyone pass by, stop them.”
“Okay.” I leaned that way but kept an eye on the front. At last, a small task.
The ships on the big monitor jockeyed, shifted and disappeared. I couldn’t keep count of the number of gray Drakon ships. The Moset’s brown domes with yellow lights shifted among the Drakon’s gray ones. A pulsing alarm sounded in the hall. What little light was visible changed from yellow to orange.
My whole body lunged forward and then I was flung back against my seat, the belts digging into waist and across my shoulders.
“Holes of verse—” Dashel shouted.
As another tremor rocked the ship, the central screen revealed the truth. We were surrounded. The small beige fighters flanked our units on both sides, having moved up from their position behind us, with more on the way judging by the boxed in blue figures on the screen.
“Operational capacity nearing seventy percent, manual repair recommended on levels one and three,” the computer said.
“We have to begin lockdown protocol,” Lehar said.
“Should we wait until Level three’s communication is back up?” Dashel asked.
“No, it should be back online after level one has detached,” he said, his voice grave as he glanced back at me. “It’s the only way we can get the upper hand.”
What was Lockdown protocol?
“Operational capacity falling below seventy-five percent; manual repair recommended on level two,” the computer said.
“Cloak ship, jettison the decoy debris and project ghosts from the cargo holds.”
“Communications are still down with Level three”, Dashel said.
“Level one disengage procedures beginning,” Lehar said. That sounded worse than lockdown procedures.
“Affirm, captain,” the computer stated.
Dashel threw his head back and rolled his shoulders.
A low grown drifted in from the hall, causing my heartrate to increase. With shaking hands, I loosened the red straps securing me to the seat and unbuckled the belt, darting out into the hall. A soft shuffling sound met my ears as I neared the end. With one quick glance behind me at Lehar, I turned the corner.
Kydoei limped by with a male strapped to a white board that seemed to be suspended by nothing. Their uniforms were torn, with smudges on the gray tops. She had been hurt while doing something to secure the ship in an attempt to get us all out of this predicament, just as Lehar and his crew were on the bridge.
“Kydoei!” She looked over her shoulder but kept walking. I ran after them. “Captain Lehar needs you on the bridge.”
“He sent you?” she said. “You are not Hielsrane, not trained.”
“Yes, there’s some sort of communication problem between levels.”
“I will come after I guide him to the medbay.” She tapped the lever on the board and continued walking. “The hover board keeps stalling.”
