Page 5 of Clan and Command

Which he admitted he was. Piras did not suffer foolishness from others. He despised it in himself even more. Fretting over whatever was coming was absurd, and he hated that he was doing it.

He needed a distraction.

He had a diversion behind him; quite a large one, in fact. If he had turned, Piras could have looked at the window vid behind his desk. It filled the entire wall and showed the spectacular view of the ocean that surrounded Fleet Headquarters. The beauty never failed to amaze, and it often settled his mind to stare into the vast green sea with the endless blue sky stretching overhead. On a calm day with good weather, its serenity was welcome. In these days of war, Piras thought it a better escape than sleep or alcohol.

With no clan, Piras didn’t bother with portraits to liven up his space. The huge pane of scenery made up for that lack. At least that was what he told himself.

Today, however, he didn’t want to contemplate the ocean. He feared it wouldn’t distract him enough. He might even think about Tranis’s parting words. No, the view would not keep his mind off that or the ceaseless questions battering his mind in the wake of the sudden meeting called in Tranis’s office.

Instead, he stared at his many spaceship models. They decorated the shelves crowding the other three walls of his office. He’d built them all himself, carving and molding and shaping the components by hand. They were accurate to the last detail. His favorites were depictions of the ships he’d served on, particularly the ones he’d been fortunate enough to captain.

His attention riveted on the smallest of those ships, a beautiful replica of the spyship he’d commanded so long ago. Spying had been interesting work to be sure, but due to its secretive nature, it got little public notice. Piras had been a much younger, and admittedly, a more foolish man when he’d applied to leave that commission in favor of his first destroyer command. He’d equated accolades and glory with accomplishment back then. Spying offered nothing in the way of fame.

With the opportunity to play secret agent in his near future, Piras wished he had stuck with it. Was he really up for such a mission? The danger to himself didn’t bother him as much as the fact that a crew was part of the mix. Of course, they’d know what they were in for. They would be trained spies themselves. Still, he was an admiral. He would bear the responsibility not only for their success, but also for their safety.

Such ruminations led back to the obvious question of who Piras’s contact would be. There was no point in wondering about that, he impatiently reminded himself. He had risen in rank next to many men and captained many more. His link to the Basma could be almost anyone.

More important was the question of how Piras would infiltrate the Basma and Holy Leader’s fleets. How he would get the two men to trust him. Obviously, he would play the traitor, but surely Maf would insist on keeping him where Piras could serve the revolt best – right where he was, in Fleet Headquarters, a member of the High Command. As such, he had access to many top-secret operations and the movements of the Empire’s forces. Just as Banrid had.

“Ancestors, no wonder we haven’t been able to gain the upper hand despite our larger fleet,” Piras murmured. “Maf knew our strategies the moment we made them.”

It was sobering to think of all the information Banrid had fed the enemy. And all the intelligence Piras would be expected to give up in order to gain entry into the inner circle.

Make the decisions you must to gain Maf’s trust. The costs may be high, but do whatever it takes.

The grave way Hobato had uttered those words had informed Piras that the costs might be astronomical. Yet he couldn’t be intimating Piras give away everything.

A deep voice interrupted his thoughts. “Good day, Admiral Piras.”

Piras jerked and turned to see a hulking Nobek standing inside his office. Despite an almost brutish facial structure, the other man somehow managed to make it attractive. Broad forehead. Lips curled in a near-smirk. Nose crooked from who knew how many fights. Blue-purple eyes that riveted on Piras in a knowing gaze. His muscular frame strained the red-trimmed fleet formsuit. Sleeveless, the uniform displayed his scarred arms to advantage.

Those arms ended in big hands. Big, capable hands, the fingers calloused so that even the gentlest touch had a rough aspect to it.

Piras slowly got to his feet and returned the other man’s bow. Swallowing his surprise, he said, “Captain Kila. I’d heard your destroyer had returned from the border.”

“So it has. Are you happy to see me?”

Shocked would have been a better description. Piras had not expected Kila to seek him out, not after the night they’d spent together a few months ago.

As always, he couldn’t help but compare this Nobek to Lidon. Piras compared every member of the warrior breed to his former lover. He had to admit, Kila stacked up pretty good. The sex they’d had had confirmed it.

Kila’s brow rose. “You look surprised that I’m here.”

Piras realized belatedly that he’d been silent for several seconds. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“You mean after our last encounter?” Kila’s enigmatic smile deepened. Mocking, secretive, a little cruel…that smile drove Piras crazy. It was impossible to know what was going on in the man’s head when he looked like that. He said, “You gave me a lot to think about that night.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

Instead of answering, Kila called out, “Door close and lock.”

The mechanism obeyed him with a click. Piras frowned. He was Kila’s superior officer and they were on duty. The captain had no business acting like he owned the place.

With any other man, Nobek or not, Piras would have served him the sharpest side of his tongue. Not in a sexual manner either. He should be doing that with Kila now. The captain had caught him thoroughly off-guard.

That brought a wave of anger. They were in Piras’s office, not his sleeping room. He was not only an admiral, but a Dramok. In charge. In control. A man no one fucked around with despite Piras’s seemingly delicate build. Not even a musclebound Nobek trained to kill with his bare hands dared to cross him. He’d taken out more than one of their like before.

It was the verbal dressing down that Piras was truly known for, however. He was a legend in that regard. Ready to put Kila in his proper place, he opened his mouth to deliver an ear-scorching diatribe, one that would remove all doubt who was in command here.

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