Page 6 of Bartender Mate

“Look at that.” Quasar’s wonder was back in force. He leaned from where he was seated towards the closest screen, finger tracing the thick lines of illumination that covered the surface. “There are more than nine billion inhabitants on this little blue planet. And almost none of them are aware of the vast possibilities right on their doorstep. Doesn’t that innocence just blow your mind?”

“Innocence?” I scoffed. “More like ignorance. It's irresponsible and dangerous. They’re burning through their natural resources and causing environmental havoc without adequate regulation.” I picked at my thumb claw as the lights got closer. “We would do much better to bring our mates back to Drakonis where they aren’t in a constant state of atmospheric ruin.”

“You would say that when looking at pretty lights, my surly mate.”

Quasar raised a brow at me in challenge. I glowered back, refusing to be baited. I’d made my displeasure at our one way ticket abundantly clear, in the privacy of our own lodgings–however, I wasn’t about to voice it on the bridge.

The engines whined and the ship groaned as we went into our final landing sequence.

“We will exit the ship single file,” Captain Zinc barked over the sounds of the descent. “Leave all cargo on board. We will not be taking anything with us when we make contact with Commander Argon. We have no idea how hostile a situation we will be stepping into. I want all personnel on their guard in case the Drakon Hunters have gotten wind of our arrival.”

“Yes, sir,” I intoned solemnly, along with the rest of the Weyr.

Zinc was a natural born leader, one I admired and respected, so it was only to be expected that his dragon would want to assume command of the forces awaiting us on Earth’s surface. However, that wasn’t our orders. It would take a mighty bout of self-control to hold back his beast’s instincts once we hit terra firma.

“Good.” The ship shuddered as it hit the ground. “Final checks Navigation?”

“Checks green, Captain,” Flare answered.

“I highly fucking doubt that,” Asteroid muttered as he rolled to his feet. “The assimilation process is likely to be a hell of a lot more bumpy than that infernal landing.”

“Remember your orders,” growled the captain. “I believe the council made their wishes crystal clear. Dismissed.”

Zinc gave my mate the stink eye, but left it at that. The moment we stepped onto Earth’s soil, our captain would be ceding control of the Weyr to Argon, and we would officially become members of the Stellar Misfits Motorcycle Club, losing our military rank and titles that came with it. Oh, the things we do for love.

* * *

The cargo baydoors lowered slowly. They also creaked and groaned in protest but I tried to ignore that as I stood at attention, hands behind my back, waiting for our first contact with the rebels. In the months preceding our departure from Drakonis, they had been fully reinstated. However, a small but rather insistent voice in the back of my head kept reminding me that this particular group of Drakons had stolen a ship and gone on an unauthorized mating mission with their entire Thunder, putting a dozen lives in danger and potentially closing off the opportunity for any future mating missions to Earth.

“You’re scowling,” Asteroid muttered as we waited. “Might want to fix that.”

“Simply deep in thought.” I adjusted my stance. “Means nothing.”

“You look like you’re ready to make heads roll.” He bumped me gently, giving me a small smile. “Pretty sure that’s my job.”

I sniffed. “I do not look like that.” I turned to Quasar for confirmation, but he was barely containing himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet. I rolled my eyes at his antics and went back to appealing to my more cautious mate. “Are you not concerned with the fact that they literally appropriated a Drakonian vessel in the middle of the night, and came here without authorization or adequate backup, despite the number of failed mating missions and the proven danger to our kind?”

“We all do stupid things for love, mate.”

The soft shrug he gave me itched at the back of my brain, calling forth a memory. “This isn’t like the time that Quasar snuck out of the barracks and into town because you ran out of white pigment in the middle of the night,” I argued, watching the door continue to lurch and creek.

It was a really fucking good thing this ship never had to enter deep space again. It would probably collapse under the gravitational effort of trying to lift itself out of Earth’s atmosphere.

“Feel how you want,” Asteroid grumbled, done with my pissing and moaning. “But keep that shit buttoned. We’re under their command now.”

With that my mate strode forward in lock step with his captain, the two Drakonis confident in their place as the ramp hit the ground with a thud.

“Captain Zinc.”

I would recognize Argon’s growled bass anywhere. My eyes zipped to his impressive form as he began speaking. Though the beard and dark color of his teal scales had changed, he’d obviously assimilated to his strange new life surprisingly well. He looked at home in his jeans and biker gear. His cut was covered in patches, each one different and meaningful. Our briefing on Earth Motorcycle Club culture had been extensive.

“Welcome to Valhalla’s Pass.” The MC Prez waved his arms around, showing off the clearing we had landed in, and I could only assume the valley that lay beyond. “You fuckers have half an hour to get settled, then you’re to report to Church.” With that brief introduction, Argon turned on his heels and motioned us forward. “To your right is the clubhouse. It has a bar, the executive committee’s offices, and Church. To your left are living quarters. Mated groups have space on the second floor. Suites for you and your companions. Solo swingers are on the first floor. My lovely mate has gone to the trouble of assigning rooms. Names are on yellow papers stuck to the door. Inside you will find your keys. Don’t fucking lose them.”

“Keys?” asked Spectrum from the back. “You mean access cards?”

“Earth ain’t quite at our level, soldier,” Zinc answered. “They use metal keys, it was in the brief.”

“Some things were less clear than others,” Spectrum muttered.

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