Chapter 3
Kila stepped off the shuttle, coming into the destroyer’s bay. Sure, it was only a space to dock smaller vehicles, but he looked at it with pride. It was part of his ship, after all, and therefore a source of gratification. Everything about the destroyer fulfilled him.
The bay was well-ordered, as always.
Shuttles lined up with precision in the well-lit space.
Even the few offloaded shipments of food and other supplies the destroyer needed for its next assignment were in perfect order as they waited to go to their assigned places elsewhere.
Those of his crew not enjoying well-earned shore leave worked at computer stations or on the shuttles themselves.
They didn’t stint when it came to keeping everything perfectly maintained, and not because he would personally pound their heads in if they didn’t. They took the same satisfaction in the vessel’s well-being that Kila did. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be a part of his crew.
It was glorious, this little bay, a microcosm of the greater whole he commanded. The sights, sounds, and smells of productivity made Kila feel a curious sense of peace.
He didn’t stop to enjoy it for more than a couple of seconds. He had a lot of work to do, and he wanted to clear out as much of it as possible before meeting that evening with Piras.
Heading for the door that would take him out of the shuttle bay, Kila’s thoughts turned to the admiral. Once more, he wondered if he’d made a mistake recommending Piras for the dangerous mission ahead.
As a fleet officer, Piras seemed the perfect choice. As an admiral, the man was all Dramok – a capable if hard leader who tasked himself as severely as he did his underlings. He accepted no excuses for slipshod work, least of all from himself.
His personal matters – well, that was another issue.
Kila’s one sexual encounter with the temperamental admiral had brought up some worrisome questions. Worrisome enough that he’d investigated Piras’s past thoroughly. Illegally, even. But Kila had to be sure Piras was up to the challenges ahead. If he faltered at the wrong time, things could get royally fucked up in a hurry.
That one night of intimacy had brought up too many concerns. Kila needed answers. Hell, he wanted answers too, and not only because of the upcoming operation.
He especially wanted to know everything when it came to one particular man from Piras’s past, a Nobek named Lidon.
Kila could have thought of Piras all day…hell, he’d have enjoyed nothing more than ruminating on the elegant, long-limbed Dramok until he was hard and aching. As he neared the exit from the vast shuttle bay however, his thoughts were derailed by the sight of his weapons commander entering the area.
Nobek Mostar veered to meet him. Kila suppressed a sigh. Mostar had apparently come looking for him. The narrow-faced man always wore a suspicious look. Kila had learned that expression had more to do with how his brows hung heavy over his eyes and the tight set of his lips rather than actual mistrust.
Mostar halted and bowed. Hoping nothing was amiss, Kila stopped before him and asked, “Are you lost, Weapons Commander?”
Mostar never responded to Kila’s sarcastic humor. Looking as skeptical as always, he answered. “No, Captain. I thought you might like to know Chief Engineer Byrcla has left.”
Kila snorted. Good riddance. “He wasted no time, did he? Any word on his replacement being assigned?”
“Already assigned. Already on board.”
Mostar might have been allergic to humor, but Kila could have sworn there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
“I guess going through so many head engineers has trained the fleet to be ready with the next one,”
he observed.
“You do have a history with them, Captain. I’m looking forward to watching you work with this one.”
Kila’s eyes narrowed. “Why is that?”
Mostar’s lips twitched. Kila got a bad feeling about what he would say. “This Chief Engineer Lokmi is a dual breed. Straight down the middle, half-and-half.”
The bad feeling intensified. “Don’t tell me.”
The weapons command nodded. “Classified an Imdiko. He is known for coddling his engines. Not so much his crew or those in authority over him. With people, he’s heavy on the Dramok attitude. All Dramok, in fact. He’s already punched senseless a couple of underlings who got mad enough to take first swings.”
Kila felt the first warning twinges of an oncoming headache. “Great. Just great. Has he started his initial inspection?”
“He went straight to his duty station rather than moving into his quarters. He’s made it know he’s not happy about the state of the engines.”
Kila groaned. “Ah, the ancestors fucking love me. I’d better get to engineering before he undoes all of my work.”
“Yes, Captain. That would probably be advisable.”
Mostar was damned near laughing, an event in and of itself. Kila would have been astounded, but he couldn’t spare the emotion. All his focus was on readying himself for his first encounter with his latest head of engineering.
Kila headed to the lift, muttering curses under his breath. Putting an Imdiko with control issues in his place before dealing with hotheaded Piras…a man with his own set of control issues…was the last thing he needed.
His mood didn’t improve when he got to Engineering. He didn’t miss the surreptitious glances the crew exchanged before bowing at his arrival. Their not-so-subtle looks toward the tube-shaped acceleration chargers told Kila where he’d find his new chief engineer.
Sure enough, an unfamiliar man in a fleet engineer’s uniform with green trim was looking at the acceleration readouts, checking things over, and shaking his head. Kila stood behind him and folded his arms over his chest.
Adjust one thing, and I’ll take your head off.
Like most Nobeks, Kila moved silently. Chief Engineer Lokmi wore ear pieces and hummed along with whatever he listened to. He didn’t know he was being observed by his captain.
It gave Kila a chance to size the Imdiko up. From behind, Lokmi possessed an athletic build. Not too bulky, not too lean. Kila automatically checked out the man’s ass, judged it nice, and remembered chief engineers were the enemy.
He made himself look up, taking in the back of Lokmi’s head. The Imdiko’s black hair was shoulder length, its gentle waves giving it a tousled ‘I-just-rolled-out-of-bed’ look.
Kila thought about punching his own head and hopefully knocking such thoughts out of it. He hadn’t gotten laid since Piras several months ago, and that encounter had certainly not gone as planned. It was no wonder he kept thinking about sex.
Lokmi snickered at a reading and made a note on his handheld. He went to one of the accelerator chargers and removed a panel from the side. Kila stiffened as Lokmi ran his fingers over the bank of power modules.
The engineer turned and froze to see Kila standing there. He bowed to his superior officer. In a voice that approached a yell, he said, “Captain Kila, I presume?”
Kila nodded. “Chief Engineer, welcome aboard.”
Lokmi snorted and yanked the earpieces out. For a moment Kila heard the steady thud of rimnastin music before it switched off. “My apologies, Captain. I forgot I was wearing those.”
Kila smiled in pardon. Lokmi’s face was as pleasing as his backside. Handsome, firm features. He had the gentle expression that was the hallmark of an Imdiko…to a point. His eyes were piercing. Demanding. Unwavering. The direct stare was all Dramok.
So be it. Kila’s spine steeled for the inevitable fight. “I see you’re doing your initial inspection?”
“Yes sir. And may I say, your former chief should be taken out and whipped. The modifications I’ve found are a nightmare.”
“Those would be my modifications, Chief.”
His voice, steady and cold. His tone, don’t-fuck-with-me.
Lokmi didn’t react with the flustered anxiety Kila anticipated. He didn’t even blink. Instead, there was a slight grimace as he said, “It makes sense that a speed junkie would do this to his poor ship. Son of Clan Poc, aren’t you? The famous shuttle racing team?”
Kila wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not by the other man’s comments. “Did you look me up to impress me or are you an actual racing fan?”
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-second joyride has 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.”
Only one other man had offered as many revelations, and Kila was betting he had plenty more in store for him. He checked the chronometer. He should be getting ready for his dinner with Piras. Instead, he switched to the file he had on the admiral.
It was the official file, the one that told little of the real story.
A brilliant career, first as a captain and then as an admiral.
Piras’s temper and propensity to unleash it on those who didn’t toe the line was legendary.
Though he’d been on board Kila’s destroyer during the devastating attack on Earth, Piras had been given little opportunity to show that side of himself.
Kila’s crew was too well trained, too disciplined to offer the unforgiving admiral any ammo to fire.
Piras would have lit into them too…the man was all Dramok.
A fierce leader, one who never faltered when he had his sights on the prize. Seeing those qualities had excited Kila. It had made him want to get close to the elegantly proportioned man.
Yet when Kila had finally enticed Piras into bed, after a long and frustrating period that would have warned off someone less determined, the result was not what Kila had expected.
The strong-jawed Dramok, the severe superior who’d seemed the personification of determination and drive, had disappeared.
He’d not fought Kila for dominance.
Had not commanded his submission.
Piras had instead surrendered himself to Kila, handing the Nobek all control.
Had it been Piras’s way of deflating Kila’s interest in him? It seemed the most likely answer, except it matched nothing about the character of the man who fascinated Kila.
Piras didn’t waste time or spare feelings when he wanted someone to fuck off.
He shouted it loud and clear.
Piras had wanted sex with Kila.
He must have.
Yet the manner of sex they’d had made no sense.
Piras was a Dramok.
Dramoks were driven to be in control, all the damned time.
Kila hadn’t had time to figure the matter out.
There had been no time to demand an explanation, because by the time he’d gotten Piras in his clutches, gotten over the shock of being given command over the admiral, and finished them both to enthralling climax, he’d had to hoof it back to his destroyer to depart on his latest assignment.
And he’d been late, much to the disapproval of his first officer and Mostar.
Tonight would be Kila’s first chance to solve one of the mysteries of Dramok Piras and to ease the overwhelming need to figure him out.