Page 17 of Desperate Measures

“I’m Toni Nichols, director of planetary education.” The new title felt odd on her lips, and her tone lacked pride. She wondered if she sounded as uncertain to them as she did to herself.

Maybe not. They appeared impressed. “An important post. There can’t be any compromise when it comes to education. No wonder you were determined to teach the Chesran a lesson,” Wovir rumbled approvingly.

“Nichols…is it a common name, or are you related to Earth’s governor? Now that I’m thinking about it, you appear remarkably similar,” Feru said.

“She’s my sister.”

“A strong family, as well as beautiful,” Imon pronounced.

“You do sound like someone who’d sell Tragoom swampland to innocent bystanders.”

The men chuckled. “How about lunch? Dinner? A midnight snack?” the Dramok offered hopefully.

Toni held her hands up in a stop gesture. “I know you aren’t asking me to run off with you, but to be clear, clans aren’t my thing.”

“Are you sure? Have you tried a clan on for size?” Imon’s charm showed no sign of waning. If anything, it increased.

Toni was also impressed that though his statement could have been spoken as a double entendre, he’d kept it from his tone. It didn’t matter. “No offense, but I haven’t had much luck when it comes to one guy at a time. You’re definitely two men too many.”

Imon sidled closer and stage-whispered, “I can send Feru and Wovir off to do errands. We’ll sneak off, have coffee and conversation.”

The Nobek rolled his eyes. “A word of warning, Matara Toni: Imon by himself is five men too many.”

“I’m getting that impression.” She couldn’t keep from snickering.

“One last try, then we’ll respect your refusal and say nothing more,” Feru offered, his expression warm. “You can be assured dinner is all we ask. Our transport leaves in the morning, so you don’t have to go out of your way to avoid us.”

“Free meal, no strings.” Imon slightly bent a knee as if he would kneel, his hands clasped prayerfully. “Please, Matara.”

Toni laughed. “Okay, okay! Free meals are my weakness. I know a restaurant where the owners welcome Kalquorian customers, unlike the dickhead Earthtiques around here. Meet me at the spaceport’s main entrance in…” she consulted the time “…three hours.”

“Done.” Imon bowed and his clanmates followed suit, smiling broadly as they did so. “Ah, here comes our most helpful cargo chief, and I do believe he has your missing handhelds.”

“Thank the prophets. And you as well.” Toni was no longer irritated it hadn’t been her to put the Chesran in his place.

No clans. No chance. But she looked forward to dinner with Clan Imon just the same.

* * * *

Toni had been curious what Imon, Feru, and Wovir would think of Southern cooking, the specialty of Peaches and Dreams. It was owned by a couple who’d hailed from the southeast portion of Georgia on old Earth. She needn’t have worried. The trio wolfed down fried pork chops, catfish, collard greens, sweet potato casserole, baked macaroni and cheese, and cornbread as if they’d been starved for months.

“The fleet’s grocery bill must be astronomical,” she chuckled after swallowing a mouthful of the casserole, her favorite dish among the delicious offerings.

“Feeding Kalquorians is serious business,” Imon agreed. “Wovir alone could probably put away an entire ronka.”

“Perhaps we should re-evaluate our plans to leave the fleet. I’m not sure we can afford to support our stomachs as civilians,” Feru mused.

“You’re leaving the fleet?” Toni asked.

“Maybe. We’ve been tossing the idea around, but we haven’t actually decided.”

“I doubt we will as long as this concern about the Darks is unresolved.” Wovir paused his attack on his third chop. “It’s sounding like an all-hands-on-deck situation.”

Toni hated to have made a snap assumption of the Nobek based on his appearance, but she admitted to herself she had. He looked the part of a brute…handsome, but a brute, nonetheless. Listening to him speak, however, had informed her there was a vast intellect behind those deadly features. He showed every sign of having as much brainpower as his psychologist Imdiko and lieutenant commander navigator Dramok.

Imon shrugged. “There’s no hurry to move on.”

“What would you do after the fleet?” Toni asked. “Haven’t you been part of it for a long time?”

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