Page 11 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

“That was one hells of a battle simulation scenario the training AI served up,” Rorkken said, typing in his data-vis before handing the tablet to her. “Nicely done. I’ve uploaded the results to your records.”

She blinked at the checkmark in the square next to the wordPASSED. “I passed.”

“Aye, you did. Between us, next time, try using the shields. We’ve got them for a reason. The ship would still have been destined to the scrap heap, but you might have taken less damage to the hull. Maybe prevented some casualties. I only know because I may have been there, done that.”

“You rammed a ship with your shields up?”

He grinned slyly. His chuckle hinted at a good story. “Stay in the books, lieutenant. Next up is the Advanced Quantum Mechanics exam. It’s a ball-buster, I hear.”

For some, maybe. Science and engineering were easy-peasy. Goingoffscript was not. How did one study for the unexpected?

She turned to the stand-in crew on the simulated bridge, all in various stages of their own training. “Thank you all.”

“You’dbetterthank me. You about simulated-killed me.” Tango swaggered over. The Terran pilot’s uniform was just shy of too tight, snug enough to show every muscle on his body and then some. He wasn’t one to bend the rules—he stretched them to their limits. “Ramming a Drakken warship. Darlin’, that was something to see.”

She held up one finger. “Simulatedramming.” The last thing she wanted was word to get around that she was impulsive and a risk taker. She was the daughter of tuber farmers, not someone from the military caste. Offspring from the families that had produced generations of officers always seemed to make rank first. If she wanted to advance in her career, which she did more than anything, she’d better stay within the lines of accepted behavior. “However, your talents and skills were invaluable.”

He laughed as they walked off the pretend bridge. “I tried to entice you with my talents and skills once, but you weren’t interested.”

As an aviator, yes. As a boyfriend, no. They worked much better as good friends. She smirked and pushed him playfully. Months ago, when they were newly assigned to theUnity, he’d both horrified and fascinated her with his pursuit. Attractive and so very alien—Texan, to be precise—he’d flirted with her endlessly. Most men were too intimidated by her position as Admiral Bandar’s XO to try. Her clumsiness with socializing didn’t help matters. Flirting felt unnatural. She knew she was highly competent in her job and a whiz at tech stuff. It was unfortunate that people, men in particular, were not as straightforward and as easy to understand as numbers. Alas, no matter how hard she worked on improving her skills, poring over how-to guides for romantic relationships, it never helped. The rules just weren’t logical! Then a tall, dark, and dangerous surprise had entered her life and shattered all the rules: former Imperial Wraith Bolivarr.

She shook her finger at Tango. “Don’t tell Bo. I want to break the news in person.” And then enjoy a congratulatory kiss.

“Rumor has it he’s in the gift shop.”

She blinked at him. “Bolivarr is?” Well, that was… different. If he liked to shop, she’d known nothing about it. Then again, he probably didn’t either. She was madly in love with a man who couldn’t remember who he was.

“Yup. He’s looking at bling.”

“I don’t recognize this term.”

“It’s Terran for shiny objects, Hadley.” At her deepening frown of confusion, Tango shook his head. “It’s what a guy buys for someonespecial.” He winked pointedly. “Sounds like you got the Wraith wrapped around your little finger.”

Happy surprise filled her as she watched Tango swagger away. Little stayed private on this ship for very long. For better or for worse, everyone loved to gossip. For once, she didn’t mind.

“Bah-leeng.” She liked the feel of the exotic Terran word on her tongue. With a bounce in her step, she turned toward her quarters to freshen up.

Her PCD chimed with an incoming message. “Hadley, it’s Rakkelle,” said the voice in her ear.

Hadley’s smile wobbled when she detected her friend’s strained tone. “Is everything okay?”

“Bolivarr checked himself into sick bay. Something happened at the store, and I think you need to know about it.”

CHAPTERSEVEN

Battlelord Karbon Mawndarrthrew the woman facedown onto the dining-room table. With one hand buried in her luxuriant blond hair, he unfastened his trousers.

Rigid with horror, Aral stopped in the entryway.

His father was hurting Nanjin! Her cries had lured him from the far side of the mansion. Nanjin was his favorite teacher—and Bolivarr’s too. In the short time she’d been with them, she’d become one of the few good things in their lives. Living in this household was hells—his father, a source of terror, and his mother? A sneered name, usually accompanied by a curse spat from his father’s lips. She’d died in childbirth delivering Bolivarr. With the absence of any prior permanent female in their home, the boys had delighted in Nanjin’s attention and affection.

Nanjin screamed.

Aral sprinted across the room.“Don’t!”He took his father’s shirt in his fists and tried to pull him away from his sobbing teacher, but Karbon was solid—a large man.“Let her go. Father, please.”

Karbon snarled at Aral over his shoulder, his face plum red. His acrid breath and pink eyes told Aral he’d been drinking sweef. Homemade stills abounded on military ships. Distilled from the berries of a type of conifer and often mixed with an additive used to lubricate machinery (to amp up the potency), sweef was cheap, easy to make, the drink of spacehands and pirates, not typically the upper class. But sweef didn’t play favorites. It addicted easily no matter one’s station in life. Chronic abuse damaged the brain.

Nanjin tried to wriggle free. Karbon slammed her down on the table with the fist Aral knew so well. Then he refastened his pants and turned around.“You better have a good reason for interrupting me, boy, and thinking you can tell me what to do.”

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