Page 2 of Sublime Target

No point in using a powerful plasma gun when it could blow out the instrument panels or even the side walls of a ship and doom everyone.

Jerik found Tarak standing amidst the blades, icily calm and contemplative.

“The latest forge- batch,” he commented as he came up behind the former general. “I’ve got a division in training, about to go for their final Blade Master trials. Those that pass will get one.”

Tarak offered him a simple nod in greeting. “A fine array of blades. How is the new Callidum forge progressing?”

“Machinery’s all in place. We just need to get the fusion reactor core in place; then it’s good to go. The locals put up some resistance at first, but I offered them a trade, as you suggested. Breeding animals from Earth. Goats. The meat is sweet and tender, and they are hardy creatures, easy to rear and well suited to the dry, rocky terrain of Tukora. The Lukkar agreed to a thousand-revolution lease in exchange for goats.”

Tukora was a rocky desert planet in Sector Four. Tarak had asked Jerik to set up a new Callidum refinery and forge in a central location—equidistant to both Kythia, where Callidum was mined, and Earth.

“The Lukkar have been struggling with famine for generations,” Tarak said quietly. “Ever since the empire poisoned their lands. This should go some way toward restoring sufficient food supplies for their people.”

“And the reclaimed istrium mines should fill their coffers enough that they can import food until they can breed sufficient numbers of goats. You could have kept them, you know. Istrium’s always in demand.”

Tarak shrugged, his Callidum exo-suit sucking in the light. He radiated effortless power. “To what end? Istrium’s a common enough mineral. It’s found on several other planets in the Fourth Sector. I’d rather the locals were autonomous and content.” He shot Jerik a pointed look. “Unlike our former masters, we do not carry out genocide and take what we please.”

“Understood.” Jerik’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Which is precisely why this is a timely meeting. I need your assistance, boss.”

Tarak turned to him, one eyebrow slightly raised in typical Tarak fashion. “What do you need?”

His expression was as cryptic as always; he didn’t betray any sort of surprise or disdain.

That was why Jerik had sworn loyalty to this man. If there was a problem, he was approachable, unlike some of his former commanders. Superiors from the noble families were the worst. Arrogant and demanding, their ears were closed to reality.

He leaned in and lowered his voice, even though nobody was around. “Tarak, I’m suffocating here. The thought of not knowing, of not having, is driving me insane. I want what you have, you fortunate bastard.”

He really could imagine it in his mind’s eye: little younglings—his very own offspring—running amok, a human female of his very own, to indulge and pleasure as he wished.

How he would dote upon them.

“You need a mate,” Tarak said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.” Jerik’s voice became gruff. “I heard you’ve got access to the database of the entire human population. Can you find me one?”

“Yes. But be aware that the process might get complicated. There are genetic considerations,” Tarak added.

“Yeah, I know. The pheromones and the mating fever and the compatibility and all that. Don’t you have access to genetic information on humans, too?”

“Some, but not all humans are registered on the database. What we have should be sufficient, however. I’ll ask the medical team to compile a list of potentially compatible matches. Then we’ll see.” Tarak gave him a stern look. “Jerik, you have to be certain. Once the mating fever takes hold…”

Jerik nodded, his impatience bubbling to the surface. “Yeah, I know. I’m fully aware of the implications. I’ve seen what it’s done to you. But let’s cross that intergalactic space when we get to it.”

TWO

Jerik sat on a high-backed chair in one of the tech labs, sipping a cup of hot, steaming coffee—that bitter, aromatic drink humans had introduced to his kind.

It was utterly addictive. Now that he’d experienced the beverage, he didn’t know how he could live without it.

He especially enjoyed the small hit of clarity it delivered toward the end. Caffeine was a potent thing indeed.

Bit by bit, humans were corrupting them. With their drugs and their fashions and their inane small pleasures. It wouldn’t be long before Kordolians started strutting around with all kinds of human affectations—frivolous fashions and the like.

Jerik didn’t care for any of that. He saw that some of the younger troops were already fascinated with such things—not to mention the women—and some of them were starting to experiment with human styles.

Not him, though. He was old and stuck in his ways. Kordolian through and through. He came from a line of warriors—his family could trace their military roots back to a long-distant ancestor—and although he could look back and understand the evils the empire had wrought, he was proud of being Kordolian.

Not of the old empire, but of what they’d done to defeat it—he, Tarak, and the ex-military soldiers and techs and Kordolian civilians that had chosen to defy their cruel rulers.

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