Page 32 of Viken Command

“What did Gunnar say? What is the situation on Viken United?” Teig asked Alarr.

“Gunnar spoke to King Drogan about our situation. The IQC is tracking an unmarked ship heading our way from deep space. It will arrive within the hour,” Alarr said.

“And?” I asked. The Interstellar Quantum Communications array was on Viken’s pole, and the poor bastards who had to protect it were all former Coalition Fleet, hard as nails, and most likely half-frozen most days. There was nothing up there but ice, snow, and few females to warm their beds at night, or males to warm theirs.

“The Coalition is not going to interfere. The ship will be allowed to land. We have to make sure the tracking beacons are loaded onto the ship before it heads back out into space,” Alarr confirmed. Which meant staying back and biding our time while the crates were loaded, allowing our mate to suffer at the hands of Clive until the weapons were safely on board.

“Who gave that order? Helion?” Teig asked.

“No. King Drogan. He wants to make sure Viken is absolved of all responsibility for the trading post massacre.”

“At the expense of our mate?” I was not pleased with what I was hearing.

“At any expense,” Alarr confirmed. “Prime Nial is pressuring both Helion and the kings to take care of the problem. The fact that they are using Coalition Fleet weapons is causing diplomatic problems for him on other worlds, worlds that don’t like to cooperate on a good day.”

“Like Xerima?” I asked. Those blue bastards were volatile and unpredictable under normal circumstances.

“And Rogue 5. Our alliances there are stretched thin, as Helion likes to remind us.” Alarr spoke the truth. The Coalition had a fragile alliance with two of the five legions on the Hyperion moon known as Rogue 5, but the legions were outside of Coalition control and operated more like warring clans than a civilized government. Their leaders ruled with absolute power, like monarchs of old.

“So, they’ve decided to risk Whitney? We know Clive has her,” I said. “What if he tries to take her off-world as well? Or get rid of her?”

Teig rubbed his jaw. “He wouldn’t kill her, not here at least. He’s too damn greedy for that.”

Fuck. Teig was right. He wouldn’t kill her. He’d do worse. Sell her. Earth females were in high demand, and there were factions on Rogue 5 and in other places that would have no qualms in taking her off his hands and selling her to the highest bidder.

Teig turned to Alarr. “How’s your eye? Sharp and ready for another target?”

Alarr grinned, the closest to diabolical I ever saw him. “Excellent, as always.”

He was our sniper and a damn good one. If he had a shot to take, no matter the distance or the pressure he was under, he’d make the kill. Alarr was deadly from the bird’s eye view. And with his voice in our ear, Teig and I were customarily on the ground taking care of the rest.

“We know where the weapons are. We know the only place they can move them and keep them out of sight,” Alarr said. He tipped his head to get us moving. “Go. Get in position. I’ll take cover on the northern hill overlooking the weapon stash. Wait for my signal.”

Teig rolled his shoulders. “You going to take the kill shot on Clive?”

Alarr shook his head. “Not until the crates and their tracking beacons are loaded, and the smugglers have left Viken space.”

I disagreed with that fucking plan. “If Whitney is in imminent danger, or he tries to put her on that ship, take him out.”

Teig turned to Alarr. “We can’t let him hurt her.”

Alarr was all business now, and there was no mercy in his eyes. “Agreed. Let’s go.”

* * *

Teig, One Hour Later

The weapons were nearly loaded, their transfer complete. I knew Oran was somewhere nearby. Like me, he’d melted into the shadows and was waiting for either Clive to appear with Whitney, or for Alarr’s voice in our comm to tell us to move.

I shifted, tensing new muscles and relaxing others, giving my body a chance to even out since I’d been unmoving for so long. I knew how to wait. I’d turned hunting our prey into a fucking art. It was the reason I was assigned to the I.C. mission with Alarr and Oran on Battleship Zeus. It took patience to map every quadrant of space, to hunt every frequency and radio wave for hidden Hive signals. It didn’t matter if there were ten thousand pieces to a puzzle, I would inspect each and every one.

And that had been for the Fleet, for the war, to protect my planet and my people. I’d enjoyed the hunt and let my success fee

d my ego and my arrogance.

But this? This was personal. Watching the Cerberus Legion smugglers from Rogue 5—with their snarling faces and dark red armbands worn like a mark of pride—load up the weapons was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

I closed my eyes and fought back the image of them lying on the ground in rivers of blood.

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