Page 31 of Clan and Command

Had Lokmi been wrong that there being a relationship between the two? So much for the hot scenes that wanted to play in his head.

Chapter 10

After eating a lonely dinner on his balcony, Piras sat down at his computer to consider targets for the Basma’s use. It was grim work, but far better than wondering what Kila was doing at that moment. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was that damned captain. He’d already made a fool out of himself by going to the man’s ship.

Chief Engineer Lokmi’s report had given Piras the excuse to face the night before’s lover and make it clear their relationship from then on would be platonic. That had been his intention, at any rate. Discovering Lokmi with Kila had derailed that plan, however.

A sly voice in his head asked,so why didn’t you have Kila dismiss him?

“Because he could have offered us important information. Which, as it turned out, he did,” Piras defended out loud.

Lokmi had given his opinion on how many ships Maf might send to claim a section of the border with Bi’is, and how many he would need to maintain a hold on it. The numbers the chief engineer supposed made Piras think he was on the right track with his plan. Maf would want the freedom to pass back and forth into Bi’isil space if he was to sell lab subjects to that kingdom. Splitting up his fleet to gain that advantage would weaken his ability to defend that holding, as well as the areas he had already captured.

Was a piece of the Bi’isil border a big enough temptation to put Piras at Maf’s side? It would depend on how strained the traitor’s finances were. The information gained by the task force committed to crippling the Basma’s war purse said he was running thin indeed. Loosening the money squeeze on the enemy’s behalf might be the right campaign for the admiral.

But first, he needed to find the right target.

“Examine sectors B-17 through B-25,” he told his computer. With a scientific station only a few clicks on the other side of the border between Kalquorian and Bi’isil space, one that informants had asserted had taken Kalquorian ‘specimens’, it was the best place to start.

There were no Kalquorian colonies that held civilians along the border with Bi’is. Relations with that kingdom were always strained at best, deadly at worst. In the last few years, only the two species’ memberships in the Galactic Council of Planets had kept war from breaking out. Though the Empire was positive their antagonistic neighbor kidnapped Kalquorian citizens for horrific biological experimentation, probably with an eye towards destroying Kalquorians once and for all, solid proof that the Galactic Council could act upon had never been uncovered.

The sectors Piras had named came up on a holographic map. He eyed it and made the computer label the military stations that guarded that portion of the border.

His gaze zeroed in on Laro Space Station, right in the middle of sector B-20. His heart lurched to see it, though he hadn’t trod its halls in many years. Once upon a time, he knew Laro quite well. Other than the destroyer he’d commanded until he’d been promoted to admiral, it had been the closest thing to a home when he patrolled the border with Bi’is.

“Those were the days,” he said out loud. For most of his captaincy, Bi’is had not been a part of the Galactic Council. Their hunter-killer crafts had made frequent incursions into Kalquorian space, and several battles could be counted on during a tour of the border. Highly ritualistic, with strict adherence to caste, Bi’is considered the Kalquorians too savage and disorderly to exist. Depending on those in control over Bi’is’s military at any given time, simply existing as their neighbor could be counted as reason enough to start a war.

When it became known the Kalquorians were in decline and heading toward extinction due to a devastating virus, Bi’is had become less antagonistic. The daily hostilities between the two races diminished, though skirmishes continued to occur often enough to keep everyone on alert. On board his destroyer, Piras could be sure he’d find a battle at least every other week. On patrol, Laro Station was an oasis of respite from the constant wariness, a place to spend a couple of days to gather strength for the next leg of duty.

“Laro,” Piras whispered, staring into space. More than twenty years prior he’d walked those corridors, flush with his first few weeks of being the captain of a destroyer. He’d been full of himself having achieved command of the class of ship most officers aspired to. Destroyers were the defense of Kalquor, the true protectors of the Empire. They were the vessels that could attach prestige to a captain’s name. How eagerly the younger Piras had chased glory before he realized the blood and loss that walked hand in hand with fame. He’d been full of himself, thinking the universe lay at his feet and that he could have anything he wanted. Anything. Anyone.

* * * *

Piras sauntered into the lounge on Laro Space Station, trying not to swagger. But damn, he wanted to strut. He wanted to show off. After two decades in the fleet, he was now the captain of a destroyer protecting Kalquor’s border with Bi’is. His first four-week tour along the boundary had resulted in no less than six shootouts with Bi’isil hunter-killers, all won handily with minor damage to his new ship and no casualties to his crew. He’d more than earned his two days on the station while repairs were made.

Laro was the only manned defense station along the border for many miles. It took a destroyer five days at standard speed to move from the next closest staffed station. What it lacked in neighbors, it made up for in comfort and amenities despite being first and foremost a military installation.

The large station was like many that Kalquor employed for various reasons. The central portion, looking like a double-ended spike, was given over to its internal command structure. There the staff, changed at regular intervals, oversaw the running of the station, taking care of its maintenance, administration, running repair crews for the fleet’s vessels, resupplying the ships, and defending the border.

Circling the middle third of that central length was a structure that looked much like a collar. It contained, among other things, temporary quarters for crews of ships too damaged to allow them to remain on board. Also found in that section were places to work out, eat, and drink. There was even a pleasure club for the men to relieve sexual tensions.

On the outer edges of the ‘collar’, ships in need of repair were moored to umbilical tunnels. It was not uncommon to see a few dozen vessels docked against the station, major and minor damage evident on their hulls after encounters with the quick and deadly hunter-killers.

Beyond the collar, where the central part of the structure tapered into points, the station was all destruction. Pulse and percussion weaponry ports numbered in the thousands around the arms’ circumferences, ready to unleash doom on any enemy foolish enough to approach. The station was pure death among the stars.

Not quite as lethal but already growing his severe reputation, Piras strode into one of Laro’s bars. He was thinking about relaxing with a few drinks and maybe finding companionship for the evening. He looked forward to showing off a little, especially to any captains of the disreputable raiders and low-level transports and couriers he’d seen docked at the station.

His good mood evaporated the moment he saw his helmsman, Dramok Ibly, and Weapons Subcommander Nobek Damirt drunkenly singing a crude Dantovonian tune to the disdainful amusement of the other patrons. In a moment, Piras was furious with the pair, his eyes seeing them through a red mist of rage.

Drunk in public on a military installation! Which meant they’d gone beyond their approved ration of alcohol. Worse still, they were members of his crew, displaying poor discipline and making him – the newly minted destroyer captain Piras – look bad.

Humiliation made him a terror that day. He’d held nothing back, unloading a barrage of verbal and physical abuse that left even the Nobek cringing on the bloodied floor. He got on his com and shrieked for his security to fetch the shamed men and throw them in the brig before he killed them.

Piras was well aware he’d given the bar’s patrons as much entertainment as the drunken songsters had. Only after he’d watched them dragged out in cuffs by the security detachment did he turn his glare to those watching. As he took in the wide eyes and gaping expressions of his fellow fleet members, he wondered if he’d gone too far.

He was on the verge of slinking away to his destroyer when a low, amused voice spoke in his ear. “Now that is how you command men. Best display of leadership I’ve seen in a long time. Can I buy you a drink, Captain?”

Piras looked around to see a virile, feral Nobek at his shoulder. Big. Muscled. His heavy brow and wide jaw made his features somehow handsomely animal, especially with a cloud of black, wavy hair. The man looked like walking danger. The magnificent creature’s direct stare and hint of a knowing smile made Piras feel hot all over. His aura of power pulsed at Piras. The Dramok’s fury and embarrassment were gone in a wash of pure lust.

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