Page 4 of Desperate Measures

“There are reports some planets, stations, and moons in the GC’s system have come under martial law following protests against recent rulings,” she told the two young women on her staff.

“I heard there’ve been riots.” Marci Soames, the younger of the pair, held Cheryl’s gaze. She exuded a forthright directness, challenging her supervisor to not sugarcoat the situation. Bold and mature beyond her twenty years, she could be trusted to speak her mind.

Her sister Darci looked like her twin rather than an elder sibling. Only two years separated the Soames. Neither wore makeup, nor did they need it. Theirs were lovely, proud features, left bare thanks to their black curls cut close to their heads “Homes are being searched on Shiwin and Taheg, according to a couple of news reports on the secret channels,” she added. “Neither were known to have Kalquorian residents, so no one is sure what the reason is.”

“No one’s suggesting the secretary-general be booted, and he’s Kalquorian.”

“He’s been seen less and less in these past weeks,” Besral mused. “It makes me wonder.”

“He probably knows you guys might show up to kick his butt. Didn’t he ask for leniency toward the Tragooms a few weeks ago?” Marci’s tone was sharp. Most sentients were no fans of the aggressive race from Trag. She in particular loathed them utterly after they’d attacked their old orphanage on Europa when she was ten.

Cheryl often mourned the Soames sisters had elected to remain at the orphanage rather than pursue the successful careers she knew they’d have elsewhere. Dedicated to their fellow refugees, they’d vowed to remain until the last orphan of Armageddon left. The youngest of the residents were ten, having been infants when the original Earth had been rendered unlivable. Darci would be thirty and still part of the orphanage if those didn’t find homes prior to reaching legal adulthood.

However, the sense of an emergency descending upon them made Cheryl grateful to have her most dedicated assistants at her side. She appreciated them almost as much as she did Besral.

“Neither Secretary-General Dramok Mereta nor the Tragooms are the issue where we’re concerned,” she said to re-direct the discussion to where it needed to be. “I believe we’re in imminent danger, and we should evacuate before the GC remembers our tiny population here.”

The rest murmured their agreement with her assessment. Having established they were likeminded on the issue, Besral spoke up in his gruff voice. “I can send a message through secret channels to Kalquor’s Fleet Command. They may not be able to send help, but perhaps our allies can do so.”

“Why not alert Earth? They’re most likely to have a place for us to set up a new facility,” Darci said.

“Except for a few thousand independent operators, Earth has no military ships. They haven’t yet established the infrastructure to support a fleet. Kalquor is in charge of keeping your new home planet safe.”

“Funny to call it a home planet when I’ve never been there. You’re right; we need the empire to figure this out,” Marci said. She grinned at Besral in obvious appreciation. “As they’ve done for us time and time again.”

“We’ll continue to shore up defenses ourselves,” Besrel told Ocri and Norev. “I have some ideas on how we might conceal our presence here in case the GC decides to remember we exist.”

“Let’s get to work.” Norev grinned, as if they planned a fun outing rather than courting death.

Chapter Two

Cheryl was exhausted at the end of the day. The children in her charge were wonderful and usually easy to manage, but they’d picked up on the tension of their caretakers. Or perhaps they’d noted the few grim independent news reports drifting the orphanage’s way, which spoke of what the larger agencies ignored or weren’t allowed to acknowledge. In any event, there’d been instances of surly behavior from the teens and crying jags from the younger residents. Ever watchful over their charges, the Kalquorian staff had managed to head off a couple of impending fights before fists could fly.

Adolescent hormones blended with uncertainty made for a long day. Cheryl wondered how many upheavals the children and staff would have to endure until the GC regained its sanity or the residents could leave for a less nerve-wracking location.

If the Galactic Council allowed them to leave.

Stop it. There was no valid reason for it to refuse their departure. Cheryl thought she was letting Marci’s and Darci’s growing conspiracy theories color her thoughts, though the atmosphere in the ruling body’s space had become decidedly odd. Having endured oppression on the original Earth, Cheryl had to admit it worried her.

Upon reaching the quiet of her own quarters for the remainder of the day, she would have been grateful to crawl in bed, pull the covers over her head, and escape in the peace of sleep until it was time to get up and face the uncertainty again. However, Besral would also be home soon, and he’d be tense. He’d have repressed his concerns to keep from upsetting the children more than they already were. Since she was the only person he felt comfortable sharing his stress with, sleep would have to wait.

She searched the kitchen cabinets and found a package of stim tabs. She dropped one on her tongue to dissolve. As she waited for it to send energy flowing through her, she searched the cooling unit for something to cook, in case he’d missed dinner. She hadn’t seen him in the cafeteria for the evening meal.

As she mused between the remains of a turkey she’d roasted earlier that week and the ronka ribs he’d grilled the day prior, muscled arms slipped around her waist. “Don’t worry about it. I grabbed something in the cafeteria as they were putting the food away,” Besral rumbled in her ear.

She nudged the cooling unit’s door closed as she turned to him. His kiss was shockingly gentle…or maybe it would have been for anyone who didn’t know the scarred Nobek as she did. Despite Besral’s warrior Nobek status, he was capable of the tenderness Cheryl’s first husband had lacked so many years before. Burt Wooton’s physical brutality hadn’t been the entire reason Cheryl had rejected his name and retreated to a convent to become a nun following their divorce, but it had played heavily in her determination to never marry again.

She still marveled such an imposing Kalquorian had managed to change her mind and how quickly it had happened. Mere days had elapsed after they’d met when she found herself eagerly anticipating being in Besral’s presence. When they’d crossed paths, his gruff expressions had instantly eased into warmth. Kindness showed through despite his harsh exterior. He’d made it clear she was to come to him when facing any problem she needed help solving, no matter how trifling.

A lump rose in her throat as she recalled those early days. Her fears of men had turned tail and run whenever Besral showed up. Her instincts had been accurate. He was strong and showed it by being unafraid to behave compassionately.

She melted in his arms, loving him so intensely its force threatened to shatter her. No matter: he’d put her pieces together if she did.

“How are you?” he asked when the kiss ended.

“On the whole, I’m all right. Worried, but who isn’t these days?” She smiled and brushed his silvery-gray hair from intelligent purple eyes. “What about you?”

“The message to the fleet has been sent, and contingency preparations begun if the Galactic Council’s forces should come knocking on our door. Would you call me crazy if I told you I’m actually excited?”

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