Page 8 of Desperate Measures

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Transport MT-118

“A word, my Dramok?” Betra ventured after the transport’s gym emptied for the day.

“That was four words.” Resan’s tone was gruff, but his eyes twinkled as he regarded his clanmate. “Of course, Betra. What’s on your mind?”

“Our itinerary for our leave on Kalquor. My mother is planning the usual—”

“A big party to celebrate yet another safe return of her darling son to her embrace, brief as it’ll be. Matara Elwa throws a terrific party. Will Oses’ parent clan be there?” Resan tossed him a cloth in unspoken expectation of Betra helping to wipe down the equipment, as he usually did when his duties permitted time to do so.

“I believe they will. Naturally, Mother’s invited your parents and grandmother.”

“And naturally, my mother and fathers are too busy to break off from work.” Resan made a face. His parent clan often put their careers ahead of all else, including family. His more family-oriented grandmother could no longer see well enough to pilot a shuttle herself, so she wouldn’t be able to attend the party either.

“It’s never a problem for us to visit them.” Betra paused and plunged in. “In fact, I’m looking forward to it. I’m in the mood for a hunt.”

Resan grinned, his good humor restored at the idea. “Sounds right. Grandmother commed to tell me the senilows are due for a culling again. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.”

“Can we bring guests?” Betra concentrated on the padded bench he cleaned, his demeanor as offhand as he could manage.

He sensed his Dramok’s attention intensifying. “Who?”

“Nieces and nephews. Clan Seot’s children. We haven’t seen them in about a year.” He was careful not to mention Shalia herself.

There was a chill in Resan’s voice, nevertheless. “They’ll probably be at your mother’s gathering.”

“Yes, but I’ll be catching up with my parents, adult friends, and so on. I’d like some one-on-one fun with the kids.”

“Betra.”

A Dramok’s commanding tone was nearly impossible to ignore. Betra had never been able to successfully fight off responding to Resan’s. He straightened and faced his clan leader.

“Yes?”

“Tell me this isn’t about her.” Resan’s expression dripped acid.

Chapter Three

Anger heated Betra’s gut. Careful, he cautioned himself. An argument would keep him from what he wanted.

“We always do something special for the children. You enjoy spending time with them.”

“I do. They’re a delight to be around. Their mother, not so much.”

“Ancestors,” Betra snarled, his anger matching his clanmate’s dislike. “Why is this still an issue? You and Shalia do a wonderful job of ignoring each other.”

“It’s a problem because you don’t ignore her.”

“How can I? We have a history!”

“Which is where the trouble lies. You don’t always seem to recognize she’s your past.” Resan flung his cleaning cloth to the floor. “We’ll take the children hunting. No one else.”

“Evelyn begged to go last time. She’ll be devasted if she’s left out again, and her parents will insist she’s too young to go without them.” Shalia’s youngest daughter was a precocious four-year-old who found it easy to break her Uncle Betra’s heart when she cried.

Her Uncle Resan wasn’t immune to the tot’s entreaties either. The Dramok was a hardass who wanted no offspring of his own, but he melted around Clan Seot’s children.

He groaned at the thought of being on the receiving end of Evelyn’s tears. “Damn it. We can’t leave her at home.”

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