Page 15 of Clan and Command

“You may be the captain, but I have no problem with fighting back if I feel I’m in the right. And in this case, I am damned well right, sir.”

The man spoke in the forceful tones of a Dramok. For a split second, he even sounded like Piras – Piras the admiral, not Piras the lover. Lokmi’s eyes had taken on the cold, severe light of a leader expecting to be obeyed.

The respect Kila had felt turned into admiration. He might get his fight after all. The prospect of a knock-down-drag-out made him feel happy again.

Unfortunately, engineering was no place for it. Kila’s precious engines were well shielded from harm, but he’d never take chances with them. So instead of slamming Lokmi’s calm face with his fist, Kila instead ordered, “To my ready room, Chief. We are going to settle this right now so there is no question who gets to be right on my ship.”

Lokmi gave him a short bow. “As you command, Captain.”

Kila led him out, heading for the office off the bridge. The steady footsteps behind told him Lokmi followed, his pace unfaltering.

Did he really plan to fight back? The man had a reputation for fisticuffs and insubordination. It could be this was normal behavior for Lokmi. Or maybe it was as simple as he’d had a bad day too. Maybe he looked forward to a good round of combat as much as Kila.

The night was looking up. Kila’s body sang in anticipation of putting the fool who’d fucked with his engines in his place…first in a crumpled, bloody heap and then bent over his desk, taking a good old-fashioned anger fuck.

The moment they entered the ready room and the door shut behind them, the two men squared off. With only a large desk, a chair, and a few shelves, there was plenty of room to tussle. Nothing of importance would get damaged. Well, perhaps Lokmi’s pride and ass would suffer, but those things carried no consequence as far as the captain was concerned.

As they faced each other, Kila was delighted to see Lokmi had left his cool control behind in engineering. The dual-breed glowered at him from five feet away. Good. It was no fun kicking a coward’s ass.

To draw out the anticipation, Kila delayed by asking a pointless question. “Tell me why I shouldn’t beat the fuck out of you right here and now.”

“Six seconds.”

Kila blinked. Not because of Lokmi’s tight tone, which matched his expression so well. It was the bizarre answer that brought him up short. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Look at the engine diagnostics again. At the changes I made. You still have that massive hit of acceleration you’ve got such a hard-on for. I merely cut it to six seconds.”

He hadn’t taken the entire boost offline? Kila had only noted the fact it had been changed, not what the specific alteration had been. He shoved away the instant of unsureness. “I don’t give a shit. I want all of it.”

“You have no reason for that much time spent in boost. While you’re verifying the diagnostics, check your record of the mechanism’s expenditure. Six seconds is two full seconds longer than you’ve ever used it.”

Was that true? Kila scowled to show Lokmi he wasn’t impressed even as he moved around his curved desk to access the computer. Within a moment, he had confirmation. The chief engineer had cut the duration of how long the boost could be used, but not taken it away entirely. Another confirmation: the longest Kila had ever engaged it was four seconds. Three point ninety-five seconds, to be exact.

Lokmi’s attitude remained wary, but he eased down. “That four seconds of power I took from your speed-demon setting? It’s now routed to creating a protective field over the pulse drive while boost is engaged. Now you won’t get blown up by a lucky enemy shot.”

Kila scowled. He’d looked forward to beating someone up. And then fucking that someone. His chance to do either had slipped away with the chief’s explanation.

He still had cause, technically speaking. Lokmi had gone against orders without explaining why he was doing so. Still, anyone with half a brain would know such minor disobedience was a shitty reason to enact discipline.

Kila had to admit the truth: Lokmi’s changes to the engines were far better than what had been in place. He’d improved the alterations Kila had made. Tearing the Imdiko apart would look too much like jealousy under the circumstances.

The chief engineer must have sensed his victory, because he pressed on. “You’ve got six seconds of crazy speed, more than what you needed against the situation you encountered seven months ago against that Bi’is hunter-killer.”

Kila glared at him. “Fine. The upgrade makes sense.”

“Try not to look so pleased with my initiative, Captain. You’re overwhelming me with the gratitude.”

“Fuck you, you smug shit.” At least he got to verbally spar. It wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry your pride has been damaged,” Lokmi said in a lofty tone that grated on Kila’s nerves.

“Not at all. I’m pissed off because you took away the one good thing that might have turned a crappy night around. I really needed to kick someone’s ass.”

“Your night would have gotten worse had I beat the hell out of you instead.”

Kila burst into laughter. The situation had drifted into the absurd. “What a class-A fuck-over my life is. I’m stuck with an Imdiko who acts like a Dramok, and a Dramok who won’t behave like one. But why not? We’re at war with a group threatening to destroy the Empire if we don’t let them destroy the Empire! Why should anything make sense?”

Lokmi watched him, tension bleeding from him as Kila continued to guffaw. He looked confused, and he offered his captain an uncertain smile. “Am I to assume you approve of my changes to our precious engines then?”

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