Page 9 of Clan and Command

Lokmi grinned. “Oh, I love anything to do with machines. Your Nobek father and mother are incredible mechanics. Geniuses, really. It’s no wonder your other fathers consistently place at the top of the standings when they race.”

The compliment seemed genuine. Kila allowed himself to relax a little. “Thank you, Chief. I happen to think they’re pretty good myself.” He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice as he spoke.

Lokmi nodded toward the opened charger. “You’ve got a talent for tinkering too, but this ship isn’t a racer. The booster on the accelerator is asking for trouble.”

“Only if I engage it for more than ten seconds. Which I would never do. I know how to run my vessel.”

Lokmi waved off the warning in expression and tone. “Sure you do. But what about the crewmember who has to pilot it out of a hairy situation before you get to the bridge? Or if you’re incapacitated?”

They always thought the captain didn’t have a clue. Lokmi’s observations might be valid with another commanding officer, but Kila was confident in his abilities. Not only did he know how to modify his engines to their best capacity, but he anticipated any trouble his alterations might incur. “The crew is kept advised. I send out tutorials and instructions with every upgrade I make.”

“Do you send those to your enemies as well? So they won’t inadvertently try to catch you and end up demolishing the ship instead? What happens when a hunter-killer grabs you in a traction freeze field while you’re tearing around at top speed?” He made a sound like an explosion, flinging his arms out to further illustrate. “Or what if we experience a failure of the defensive field grid you’ve tied in to keep us from shaking apart for those ten seconds of thrill ride? The very same defensive grid that keeps us from blowing all to hell when a lucky shot hits the pulse drive system…which you’ve diverted to powering said grid for your joyride.”

Kila’s mouth stretched in a smile. Not his usual mocking smile, which he could help no more than Mostar could avoid his naturally suspicious look. This smile was purposely big and dangerous, more a snarl than a grin. Most men had the good sense to back off when he looked at them like that.

Lokmi only gazed at him, waiting for a reply. He had a ton of Dramok in him, all right.

Kila didn’t turn down the threat in his smile, but he decided to answer. “You voice valid concerns. Yet that ten-secondjoyridehas saved our asses a few times when we’ve been in tight spots. This is a destroyer, Chief, and we’re a crew of spies playing a high-stakes game that even most of the fleet is unaware of. We look for and find trouble. Boost gets us back out of trouble.”

Lokmi shrugged. “So would enhanced maneuverability, which you won’t get when you’re tearing around at crazy speeds. Trust a Nobek to be all about hurry-up and nothing about finesse. With respect, Captain.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Kila’s fist itched to punch the smug face in front of him. Lokmi hadn’t given him a good reason to do so though. He switched tack. “You know the underlying mission?”

The chief lost the arrogant attitude in an instant. “I’ve been briefed.”

“Good. Then you know we’re more than likely to be fifty ways to fucked. That boost is our best chance to get out of trouble fast.”

“But—”

“Here are my orders: leave my modifications the hell alone, or I’ll turn your hide into a throw rug.” With that, Kila turned on his heel and stalked out.

Damned engineers and their sense of entitlement over his ship.

Instead of going into his ready room, Kila went to his quarters. The room was spare, as small as any crewman’s who didn’t need to share space with clanmates. It had just enough capacity for Kila’s sleeping mat and a small table where his computer sat. His one concession to decorating consisted of the many vid stills and racing mementos filling the walls. Each photograph featured a racing shuttle which had belonged to his parents at one time or another. Some showed the clan posing after winning a chase. A few of the older ones included a teenage Kila, wearing the team coveralls.

He didn’t spare any of the stills or souvenirs a glance as he sat down at his computer. Tied into the fleet’s records, he was able to call up Lokmi’s service record. He was curious about his new chief engineer.

I wonder how long it will take before this Imdiko-Dramok begs to be transferred. He’d better make it quick.

Because if things went right with Piras’s assignment – meaning if things went badly enough – Lokmi would be stuck on board for the duration of the mission.

Kila grunted as the chief’s particulars filled his holo-screen. Lokmi had received an impressive number of commendations. His work on fighting ships during the war with Earth had resulted in favorable outcomes.

He had almost as many censures as accolades, though. He had a penchant for getting into altercations, notably with other engineers and the captains of the ships he’d served on. He’d been cleared of blame for instigating the physical fights he’d had – and there were quite a few. From the comments on his record, Lokmi had never started any fights, but he had sure as hell had ended them. He was a martial arts expert and quite dangerous to judge from the pictures of those who had challenged him.

Kila grinned, delighted to have such a challenge. “There’s that Dramok coming out, Chief. No wonder you’re not clanned, even though Imdikos are in high demand.”

He tapped off the military records and brought up the personal information Mostar had thought fit to dig up. Right away, Kila found something startling.

Lokmi’s Dramok and Nobek fathers were high commanders in the ground forces. Decorated and on Imperial Commander Bevau’s advisory panel, they were heavy hitters in Kalquor’s military.

Lokmi had started off working in architecture, but switched to mechanics. Another shock: he was rich enough that he could get away with never working another day in his life. His fortune had come from building the engine prototype that led to the superfast mini-shuttles that were all the rage these days.

“I thought you didn’t care much about speed, Chief,” Kila murmured. “You sure as hell love engines if you’ve remained in the fleet with all that money though. Damn it, stop giving me stuff to like. You’re a fucking asshole chief engineer, my sworn enemy.”

The next revelation sent the Nobek into gales of laughter. Lokmi had once been a howler in a lemanthev band. And not just any band, but one that had charted a hit tune.

“I remember that song. You left the chance to be a big music star to work for the fleet? Fame to add to your fortune? Aren’t you full of surprises, Chief.”

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