Page 14 of Clan and Command

Yet Piras held an absurd amount of fascination for Kila. As much as most fleet personnel dreaded having to face the admiral, he inspired them to do their best at their duties. When Kila and his crew had learned the fleet’s toughest admiral would be using their destroyer as his flagship in the war against Earth, they’d driven themselves to the breaking point to get ready. Kila hadn’t been forced to schedule drills; Piras’s reputation compelled the staff to take that duty upon themselves. No mistake was made that the man who committed it didn’t punish himself a hundred times over. The crew had held themselves to an impossible standard. By the time Piras had come on board, they’d made themselves damned near flawless in the effort to impress him.

Impress him, they had. Not that he was a man to heap on the accolades. It was the absence of tirades and insults, coupled with occasional grunts of appreciation that told Kila’s crew they’d excelled. The rare and grudging, “Well done,” from the admiral was gloated over like a priceless treasure from any man who earned it. Then after the war, Piras had sealed the crew’s accomplishments by ordering a commendation for every last man. He’d personally presented those awards to each individual. No award was more prized.

For Kila, watching Piras carry out strategic tactics had been the beginning of an admiration that grew into more. The admiral was careful in gathering information on the enemy. No action was planned that wasn’t judiciously weighed and all options considered. Once a plan was decided upon, Piras could not be deterred from acting on it. His focus was that of a surgical laser, pinpoint and unwavering. He was not distracted by emotion when it came to accomplishing an objective that would give his side the advantage. Yes, he brooded over casualty lists and saw to the care of those hurt, whether friend or foe…but he still did his duty as called upon. In his element of command, Dramok Piras was all the leader a man of the fleet could ask for.

Even after the war, when Piras resumed to his duties at Fleet Command, Kila sought him out. Each time a deployment ended and the Nobek returned to Kalquor, he found a reason to stop by the admiral’s office. Piras hadn’t discouraged him either. He seemed to enjoy hearing about Kila’s travels and was always willing to give advice when asked for it.

Kila started timing his stops at the end of the workday, when it didn’t seem out of place to continue their conversations over drinks and dinner. However, getting Piras beyond that point had been a struggle. Invitations to Kila’s quarters, whether on the orbiting ship or at an inn, were politely refused. Kila had been confused since their relationship had warmed to the point so that they talked like old friends. When he asked Piras in frustration why they couldn’t explore something more, he’d expected something stupid, like drawing a line between upper and lower ranks.

Instead, Piras had ducked his head and refused to meet Kila’s gaze in a most un-Dramok-like manner. “You wouldn’t enjoy being with me.” He refused to say anything more about it.

By the end of Kila’s last visit to Kalquor, he’d felt sure his attraction to Piras was more than simple affection. Yet the Dramok had steadfastly refused to let him get any closer than their casual friendship. So on his last night, Kila had gone the way of desperation: he got Piras drunk enough to finally say yes.

In the months since that night, Kila had grappled with what had happened in Piras’s sleeping room. How the elegantly lithe man had stood naked before him and said, “I won’t fight for dominance. I surrender to your wishes. You have control.”

It had been shocking, to say the least. Even Imdikos, that most caring and giving of breeds, didn’t often give themselves up to complete command without some resistance. They were alpha in their own way.

But not hardcore dominating. Not like Dramoks. Yet it was a Dramok offering himself for Kila’s sexual pleasure. The most demanding of Dramoks, to boot.

Though Kila had never experienced more intense orgasms than the ones he’d had with Piras, the night had been more surreal than satisfying. Yes, Kila had taken the opportunity, enjoying Piras and the gift of submission. Yet throughout the long and pleasurable night, he’d expected his lover to suddenly become the imposing, no-nonsense leader he was everywhere else. When morning came and Kila had to rush back to his ship before pillow talk might have given him the clues to solve the puzzle, Piras was as pliant and giving as ever. There had been no doubt the admiral had enjoyed their tryst either. His climaxes had been forceful and frequent.

Kila had spent the last months with his mind churning over that night and what Piras had been up to. Whether it had been a way to chase Kila off or a real facet of the man, he grew more fascinating as time passed.

Kila had answered many questions tonight, but now there were even more to brood over. The most important one was, did Piras still love Lidon? Was there no hope of him letting go of the man he’d spent sixteen years with?

Kila growled. He did not like the ramifications of those questions. He could accept Piras’s need to relinquish control when they fucked. He even welcomed the opportunity to explore a relationship with such unheard-of…and to be honest, exciting…dynamics. What he couldn’t deal with was fighting the memory of another man. Seeking Lidon out for a face-to-face brawl wouldn’t solve the matter. Should Piras prove worthwhile as a clanmate, it would mean a fight for a man’s heart. That was not the kind of battle Kila knew how to tackle. He was a Nobek, not an Imdiko.

Walking wasn’t clearing Kila’s head. His thoughts swam around and around, churning inside his skull fit to give him a headache. Only one thing had the chance to divert his attention, would allow him to let the problem rest so he could tackle it with a fresh perspective.

He headed for Engineering, his fingers twitching in response to the idea of playing with the destroyer’s engines. Modifying the ship’s power and speed always gave him a sense of peace when nothing else would calm him. In that, he tended to be more cerebral than most Nobeks, who preferred to bleed out angst by busting heads.

It wasn’t that Kila didn’t enjoy violence; he relished it as much as any of his breed. But he had ambitions and the Dramoks who populated the higher tiers of Fleet Command tended to look down on arbitrary outbursts of aggression. It was why so few Nobeks made it any higher than the rank of weapons commander. Kila avoided that trap by jacking up his ship rather than pounding on subordinates and like-minded warriors.

The tension in his shoulders eased the instant he entered engineering. A skeleton crew was on duty, and the two men he saw in the section were at the far end of the room. Kila indulged in a lover’s smile as he looked over the components that made up the ship’s power center. The hum of the engines soothed his nerves and eased his anger. The bouquet of oils and ozone were a sweet perfume. The crowded but symmetrical layout of the destroyer’s heart felt more like home than anywhere he’d been. Kila even had his own office within engineering, a workspace he preferred to his official ready room.

He didn’t bother with that tiny cubicle. Instead, he went straight to the bank of podium-style computer stations in the middle of the machinery. Kila ignored the sound of someone moving about behind him, not wanting any interruption as he contemplated his lovely engines. He brought up the day’s diagnostics and maintenance notes and looked them over in hopes of finding something he could tweak.

He found something, all right. Kila’s fists clenched as he noted the work that had been done on his accelerators. The boosts had been downgraded.

That son of a bitch. That fucking chief engineer. I’ll mangle him.

Kila whirled around, looking for any underling he could scream at. He discovered someone standing several feet away behind him, watching him. Chief Engineer Asshole Lokmi himself.

The idiot didn’t have the good sense to fall over himself with the apologies that should be streaming from his lips. He didn’t even have the terrible sense to attempt a retreat. Instead he stood there stoic as a statue, watching Kila with mild interest. He did remember protocol enough to dip a respectful bow to his captain, but his gaze never wavered.

A sense of unwelcome respect stole over Kila, dulling the urge to rip Lokmi’s throat out. Instead, he growled, “You fucked with my engines.”

Lokmi’s brow rose. “I putmyengines within acceptable parameters. Captain.”

Was the bastard actually amused at the situation? Kila would change that quick enough. He stalked towards him, all fearsome Nobek. Damn the man’s hide, the chief engineer watched him come with no change in expression. No hint he’d like to take to his heels to escape the coming doom.

Fine. Kila would be more than happy to teach the dual-breed to obey his captain, or he could follow his predecessors by getting the fuck off Kila’s ship.

“I gave you an order to leave my modifications alone. You disobeyed that order. You are subject to discipline, and I do not hold back with punishments.” The vicious smile that struck such fear in the hearts of those more intelligent than Lokmi spread over Kila’s face. Maybe he didn’t indulge in random fights to bleed off his tensions, but Kila had no problem in meting out the painful penalties his commission allowed for.

Lokmi rewarded him with a slight flinch. Very slight, but it was there. Yet the Imdiko’s chin lifted in defiance, and he still gave no ground though Kila’s face was inches from his. “Article four-seven-point-two of fleet regulations: the chief engineer will use his expertise to maintain his craft’s integrity in non-emergency situations to the best of his abilities, even if commanded otherwise by his superior officer.”

“The last fool to quote regulations to me ended up with a mouthful of broken teeth.” Yes, messing up Lokmi’s attractive face would be a nice start to the festivities.

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