Chapter 10
After eating a lonely dinner on his balcony, Piras sat down at his computer to consider targets for the Basma’s use.
It was grim work, but far better than wondering what Kila was doing at that moment. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was that damned captain. He’d already made a fool out of himself by going to the man’s ship.
Chief Engineer Lokmi’s report had given Piras the excuse to face the night before’s lover and make it clear their relationship from then on would be platonic.
That had been his intention, at any rate. Discovering Lokmi with Kila had derailed that plan, however.
A sly voice in his head asked, so why didn’t you have Kila dismiss him?
“Because he could have offered us important information. Which, as it turned out, he did,”
Piras defended out loud.
Lokmi had given his opinion on how many ships Maf might send to claim a section of the border with Bi’is, and how many he would need to maintain a hold on it.
The numbers the chief engineer supposed made Piras think he was on the right track with his plan.
Maf would want the freedom to pass back and forth into Bi’isil space if he was to sell lab subjects to that kingdom. Splitting up his fleet to gain that advantage would weaken his ability to defend that holding, as well as the areas he had already captured.
Was a piece of the Bi’isil border a big enough temptation to put Piras at Maf’s side? It would depend on how strained the traitor’s finances were.
The information gained by the task force committed to crippling the Basma’s war purse said he was running thin indeed.
Loosening the money squeeze on the enemy’s behalf might be the right campaign for the admiral.
But first, he needed to find the right target.
“Examine sectors B-17 through B-25,”
he told his computer. With a scientific station only a few clicks on the other side of the border between Kalquorian and Bi’isil space, one that informants had asserted had taken Kalquorian ‘specimens’, it was the best place to start.
There were no Kalquorian colonies that held civilians along the border with Bi’is.
Relations with that kingdom were always strained at best, deadly at worst.
In the last few years, only the two species’ memberships in the Galactic Council of Planets had kept war from breaking out.
Though the Empire was positive their antagonistic neighbor kidnapped Kalquorian citizens for horrific biological experimentation, probably with an eye towards destroying Kalquorians once and for all, solid proof that the Galactic Council could act upon had never been uncovered.
The sectors Piras had named came up on a holographic map.
He eyed it and made the computer label the military stations that guarded that portion of the border.
His gaze zeroed in on Laro Space Station, right in the middle of sector B-20.
His heart lurched to see it, though he hadn’t trod its halls in many years.
Once upon a time, he knew Laro quite well.
Other than the destroyer he’d commanded until he’d been promoted to admiral, it had been the closest thing to a home when he patrolled the border with Bi’is.
“Those were the days,”
he said out loud.
For most of his captaincy, Bi’is had not been a part of the Galactic Council.
Their hunter-killer crafts had made frequent incursions into Kalquorian space, and several battles could be counted on during a tour of the border.
Highly ritualistic, with strict adherence to caste, Bi’is considered the Kalquorians too savage and disorderly to exist.
Depending on those in control over Bi’is’s military at any given time, simply existing as their neighbor could be counted as reason enough to start a war.
When it became known the Kalquorians were in decline and heading toward extinction due to a devastating virus, Bi’is had become less antagonistic.
The daily hostilities between the two races diminished, though skirmishes continued to occur often enough to keep everyone on alert.
On board his destroyer, Piras could be sure he’d find a battle at least every other week.
On patrol, Laro Station was an oasis of respite from the constant wariness, a place to spend a couple of days to gather strength for the next leg of duty.
“Laro,”
Piras whispered, staring into space.
More than twenty years prior he’d walked those corridors, flush with his first few weeks of being the captain of a destroyer.
He’d been full of himself having achieved command of the class of ship most officers aspired to.
Destroyers were the defense of Kalquor, the true protectors of the Empire.
They were the vessels that could attach prestige to a captain’s name.
How eagerly the younger Piras had chased glory before he realized the blood and loss that walked hand in hand with fame. He’d been full of himself, thinking the universe lay at his feet and that he could have anything he wanted. Anything. Anyone.
* * * *
Piras sauntered into the lounge on Laro Space Station, trying not to swagger.
But damn, he wanted to strut.
He wanted to show off.
After two decades in the fleet, he was now the captain of a destroyer protecting Kalquor’s border with Bi’is.
His first four-week tour along the boundary had resulted in no less than six shootouts with Bi’isil hunter-killers, all won handily with minor damage to his new ship and no casualties to his crew.
He’d more than earned his two days on the station while repairs were made.
Laro was the only manned defense station along the border for many miles.
It took a destroyer five days at standard speed to move from the next closest staffed station.
What it lacked in neighbors, it made up for in comfort and amenities despite being first and foremost a military installation.
The large station was like many that Kalquor employed for various reasons.
The central portion, looking like a double-ended spike, was given over to its internal command structure.
There the staff, changed at regular intervals, oversaw the running of the station, taking care of its maintenance, administration, running repair crews for the fleet’s vessels, resupplying the ships, and defending the border.
Circling the middle third of that central length was a structure that looked much like a collar.
It contained, among other things, temporary quarters for crews of ships too damaged to allow them to remain on board.
Also found in that section were places to work out, eat, and drink.
There was even a pleasure club for the men to relieve sexual tensions.
On the outer edges of the ‘collar’, ships in need of repair were moored to umbilical tunnels.
It was not uncommon to see a few dozen vessels docked against the station, major and minor damage evident on their hulls after encounters with the quick and deadly hunter-killers.
Beyond the collar, where the central part of the structure tapered into points, the station was all destruction.
Pulse and percussion weaponry ports numbered in the thousands around the arms’ circumferences, ready to unleash doom on any enemy foolish enough to approach.
The station was pure death among the stars.
Not quite as lethal but already growing his severe reputation, Piras strode into one of Laro’s bars.
He was thinking about relaxing with a few drinks and maybe finding companionship for the evening.
He looked forward to showing off a little, especially to any captains of the disreputable raiders and low-level transports and couriers he’d seen docked at the station.
His good mood evaporated the moment he saw his helmsman, Dramok Ibly, and Weapons Subcommander Nobek Damirt drunkenly singing a crude Dantovonian tune to the disdainful amusement of the other patrons.
In a moment, Piras was furious with the pair, his eyes seeing them through a red mist of rage.
Drunk in public on a military installation! Which meant they’d gone beyond their approved ration of alcohol.
Worse still, they were members of his crew, displaying poor discipline and making him – the newly minted destroyer captain Piras – look bad.
Humiliation made him a terror that day.
He’d held nothing back, unloading a barrage of verbal and physical abuse that left even the Nobek cringing on the bloodied floor.
He got on his com and shrieked for his security to fetch the shamed men and throw them in the brig before he killed them.
Piras was well aware he’d given the bar’s patrons as much entertainment as the drunken songsters had.
Only after he’d watched them dragged out in cuffs by the security detachment did he turn his glare to those watching.
As he took in the wide eyes and gaping expressions of his fellow fleet members, he wondered if he’d gone too far.
He was on the verge of slinking away to his destroyer when a low, amused voice spoke in his ear. “Now that is how you command men. Best display of leadership I’ve seen in a long time. Can I buy you a drink, Captain?”
Piras looked around to see a virile, feral Nobek at his shoulder. Big. Muscled. His heavy brow and wide jaw made his features somehow handsomely animal, especially with a cloud of black, wavy hair. The man looked like walking danger.
The magnificent creature’s direct stare and hint of a knowing smile made Piras feel hot all over. His aura of power pulsed at Piras. The Dramok’s fury and embarrassment were gone in a wash of pure lust.
The delicious brute took a step back, just far enough to offer the customary bow. “Fighter Squad Leader Lidon, sir.”
Piras struggled to catch his breath. Had he ever seen a more riveting man? No, because nothing so incredible could exist more than once.
Somehow he managed to return the bow and find a voice to introduce himself. “Captain Piras. A drink would be appreciated, Squad Leader.”
Lidon grinned. Somehow it made him look twice as predatory and a hundred times more exciting. He turned and headed to the bar, his stride long and self-assured.
Now that he wasn’t blinded by the man’s looks and wide shoulders, Piras got a view of his tapered waist and powerful tree-trunk thighs. Watching the man’s ass flex as he walked was mesmerizing.
Piras worked on thinking with his brain and not his cocks. He followed Lidon, reminding himself not to look too bowled over. Not too soft or tender. He nodded his thanks as Lidon handed over a glass of kloq.
“I’ve not seen you before. Whose ship are you assigned to?”
he asked politely.
Lidon led him to a tall table they could stand at in the corner. “Captain Niroth’s destroyer.”
Piras had noted the vessel in dock. It had been far more banged up then his. “Oh, yes. You’re at the end of your rotation on the Bi’is border then. Home for a little rest and then on to patrolling Joshada space?”
He felt disappointment that this might be the one time he’d run across the compelling Nobek on his current tour.
Lidon made a face as he sipped his kloq. “Unfortunately, yes. We’ve had an exciting run this rotation, and I’m disappointed to see it finished. There’s not much in the way of thrills when it comes to keeping an eye on the other side of Empire territory.”
Piras agreed with him, but the man seemed to be genuinely glum at the prospect.
Piras didn’t want to bring him down, not until he determined whether or not Nobek Lidon was worth a bit of a chase. Encouragingly, he said, “Oh, I don’t know. They get enough Tragoom incursions to wake the men up every now and again.”
Lidon shrugged dismissively. “How much longer is your tour on the Bi’is side?”
“We got here less than a month ago. We’re in for the long haul.”
“Lucky man.”
The Nobek looked him over with a gleam in his eyes. “How do you like your fighter squad leaders? Are any of them as foolish as the pair you dealt with in such an unequivocal manner?”
“Why? Thinking of a transfer?”
“For the right ship. The right captain. Why not?”
Lidon’s mercenary grin made Piras’s cocks pulse.
Beyond the opportunity to learn more about his alluring companion, Piras could hardly believe his luck.
He’d laid hard into one of his squad leaders two weeks prior for not showing up for a duty cycle.
It had turned out the man had gotten used to taking personal ‘holidays’ because the previous captain had been slipshod on discipline and a coward with the Nobeks he commanded.
The squad leader was still recovering in the ship’s Medical department after challenging Piras’s disciplinary action.
His next stop was the brig until he could be offloaded to face charges of insubordination by Fleet Command.
Piras sighed.
He was thrilled with his first destroyer command, but there were plenty of bad habits he had to deal with as far as the crew was concerned.
Fortunately, there were more good men on the ship than bad, but the bad ones were doing their damnedest to fuck him over.
For the next hour, he and Lidon talked.
In reality, Piras did most of the talking as Lidon was the typical Nobek in that he didn’t have much to say.
He was an embodiment of the strong, silent type, though he shared enough to keep Piras fascinated.
When Lidon stayed until they drank their daily alcohol ration, Piras felt sufficiently confident to ask him back to his quarters.
To his delight, Lidon’s acceptance came without hesitation.
Piras had already realized the hard truth of his sexual needs.
He wanted nothing more than to offer himself to the hard, gorgeous Nobek he led to his sleeping room.
To kneel before the primal man and suck his dicks.
To go to all fours and offer his ass for punishment and use.
To be ordered and obey those orders.
To give and give and give, surrendering himself utterly.
Like all the Nobeks he’d been with before, he also knew Lidon would expect a fight for dominance.
After all, Piras was a Dramok.
He was supposed to prefer control.
The few times he’d simply submitted, whoever he was with had been confused and then put off.
Nobeks wanted that fight, to win the right to dominate, and it invariably disappointed them not to get it.
Excited enough by Lidon to make an effort contrary to what his being begged for, Piras fought hard to make it worth the Nobek’s while to fuck him.
And the sex was glorious even if it was a lie at the beginning.
The best part came in the end when he was held face down on his sleeping mat with Lidon’s brutal hand slapping his ass over and over until it felt raw and his primary cock hurt with the need to come.
Later he climaxed so hard that Piras felt he might be turned inside out, Lidon jerking mercilessly on his shaft while his hips slammed against the Dramok’s sore ass, driving a thick cock inside like a battering ram.
Piras knew at that moment he was in love.
The next two days of leave continued like that.
Piras pretended to resist being on the bottom until he felt safe succumbing to Lidon’s power.
Then he basked in the Nobek’s fierce use.
When Lidon’s transfer to Piras’s ship was approved just before it was to depart Laro, they celebrated with another fight, which the captain once again lost.
The tears that streamed from Piras’s eyes that night, hanging from hovercuffs, were as much from happiness as they were from the pain of Lidon’s expertly wielded flogger.
And just as he lied to Lidon by pretending to fight, Piras lied to himself that he could keep the ruse up. He convinced himself that he could be someone he was not to keep the Nobek, to make him his clanmate.
* * * *
“Fucked that up quick enough, didn’t I?”
Piras muttered to himself, still staring at the star chart that displayed the location of Laro Station.
No, it hadn’t been quick at all.
He’d played the part of Dramok in the sleeping room for two long years.
They were years that made him love Lidon more and more, but also left him feeling emptier each time they had sex.
Maybe his will would have broken sooner, but during that time Lidon had suffered a horrific injury in a fighter fight with Tragooms.
For weeks after that, it had been a matter of whether or not Lidon would die.
Then came the long months of recovery, and Piras had put his growing unease aside to keep Lidon fighting for a life he didn’t want – the life of a near cripple, with a brutally scarred leg, constant pain, and awkward limp. Even though Lidon was a devotee of the Book of Life, the Nobek’s strong beliefs shattered for that dark time.
Live Lidon did, however, thanks partly to Piras pushing Fleet Command to make his lover the destroyer’s weapons commander.
He knew the Nobek needed a purpose, a way to make his continued existence worthwhile.
His efforts had not been in vain either.
Lidon had not only gotten through the horrible months of self-doubt, but he thrived in his new assignment.
His pride and strength returned, as did his faith. He emerged from the near death stronger in spirit and mind, if not in body.
In the years that followed, Piras and Lidon never spoke of that horrible time during which the Nobek looked towards death and Piras fought to pull him away from its siren call.
Piras didn’t want to hurt Lidon’s pride over a period of understandable weakness, so he let the matter lie quiet.
Only once did it come up, following a harrowing battle against five hunter-killers in which Lidon’s skill as weapons commander saved their destroyer from utter destruction.
After they escaped what had seemed to be certain doom, the Nobek looked at Piras and remarked, “Death is preferable to a life with no reason.
Thank you for giving me a reason to live, because I wouldn’t have missed this fight for all the fit legs in the Empire.”
With the man Piras considered clanmate in all but name strong again, the Dramok began to think long and hard about their relationship in the sleeping room.
Lidon had worried about being seen as less a man because of his limp.
He’d been more determined than ever to be on top for a while because of that, and Piras was more than happy to give in to him.
Lidon hadn’t minded being handed the reins at first.
He’d used the opportunity to be his most demanding, and Piras reveled in the delight of being himself.
After that, Piras couldn’t find the will to go back to playing Dramok in bed.
It was a lie he couldn’t go on living, though he never found the guts to talk to Lidon about it.
When the Nobek had pulled himself together mentally and was ready to resume things as they’d been before the injury, Piras managed only the most cursory attempts to top him.
It was something else they never discussed, though Lidon had let his disappointment in the situation be known in hundreds of ways.
Starting arguments.
Storming out.
Teasing Piras and then leaving once the Dramok was eager for lovemaking.
Refusing to clan with Piras. And finally, the greatest insult of all, joining with Dramok Tranis with next to no warning.
It all started with that place, he thought, staring at Laro.
The great love and heartbreak of my life.
Of course he would never target Laro for the mission.
His love affair with Lidon had crumbled to dust, but Piras still regarded it with fondness.
It had been a beginning of the most significant chapter of his life. Whatever had come later, Laro had been like the dawn of a bright day.
It still made sense to look it over, to make sure Piras took everything about the Bi’is border into account.
He checked its specs, noting it held the typical number of personnel suitable to defend that part of the boundary.
There were still no colonies in the area, and the nearest inhabited station remained five days’ journey away at standard speed. It was the closest to any of the known research stations Bi’is maintained off-planet.
Only one matter of significance had changed since Piras’s days of patrolling the perimeter.
With the fleet focused on protecting Kalquor and its colonies from Maf’s odious ambitions, vessel patrols had lessened.
Before the revolt had taken up arms, Laro could count on a destroyer passing by every other day. Now four days…sometimes even six…could go by before a patrol came to call.
Even the repair docks sat mostly empty now, since Bi’is had become a part of the Galactic Council of Planets and overt large-scale aggression between their kingdom and the Empire had ceased.
Curious, Piras checked the last report from Laro to confirm his suspicions.
As he’d suspected, a small courier ship was the only vessel currently undergoing repairs. It wasn’t even battle damage; just the replacement of an aging worn-out thruster.
Piras gave Laro a final affectionate smile and looked at his other options. He worked late into the night.
As the hours passed, a feeling of disquiet grew in his gut.
For one reason or another, he crossed off one potential defensive station after another, discounting each as a tempting offer for Maf.
Some of them were too close together, particularly in places where Bi’is military outposts crowded the border.
Those as isolated as Laro had various drawbacks, such as larger complements of personnel or more frequently passed by patrols.
Stations that developed and tested new weaponry were immediately rejected.
Piras wasn’t about to give Maf that much offensive hardware and research.
He most certainly wouldn’t hand over Penri Munitions Station, located in the corner of Empire space where the border of Bi’is and the Galactic Council’s territories met.
He thought of Maf getting his hands on the plant there where destroyers were manufactured.
The idea made him shudder. That was the last thing Kalquor needed.
Over and over, his attention strayed to Laro Station. Over and over, he resolutely looked away. There was something better out there. He was sure of it.
Yet in the end, he was left with five potential marks, Laro among them. They all had the smallest personnel complements. They were all without additional backup from destroyers for lengthy stretches of time.
They all gave easy access to Bi’is space if captured. But only one was within a day’s journey of a Bi’isil scientific research station, one purported to carry out experiments on captured Kalquorians.
Laro.
Piras made his mind go blank. He ignored the knife-like pain streaking through his chest to check on the unmanned defense stations closest to Laro. Those facilities would automatically activate when they detected the ships recorded as captured by the Basma’s forces. Almost as deadly as Laro, the programmed stations, run entirely by computers, would continue to defend the perimeter in its absence. Taking Laro would open a hole in the defenses, but it would be a small one. Certainly not enough to tempt Maf, who would want a clear path into Bi’is space. The unmanned defenses near Laro would have to be brought down as well, and Piras knew there was no way Maf could shoot his way through all of them.
Like Laro, the unmanned stations had buffer shields, designed to absorb and disperse anything fired at them. They could be damaged and worn down until no longer operational, but an attack would not go unanswered. The firepower wielded by the automatic systems was devastating to any aggressors. It wasn’t true to say they were completely unapproachable, but no one, not even the Bi’is, chanced them often. The defensive stations along the Bi’isil border, manned and not, had a damage rate of ninety-seven percent, and a destruction frequency of seventy-four out of one hundred. It was formidable protection, and Kalquor’s enemies knew it.
Making it even harder to gain control over them, each station had a uniquely coded access, retained by one member of High Command. No officer had possession of more than one code, and therefore one station, per sector. Like Piras, the traitor Admiral Banrid would have been in charge of thousands of such codes, but each would have been linked to stations separated by thousands of miles. Banrid never could have offered the Basma enough information to punch a useable hole in the border. Not for a large-scale invasion, anyway.
But for a smuggling operation? A breach just big enough to transport Kalquorian prisoners to the Bi’isil research station? That wouldn’t require disabling as many of the automated facilities.
“Six unmanned stations to knock out around Laro,”
Piras mused. “Six different codes held by six different members of High Command. Holy shit, could they have made it any easier on me? If I wasn’t going to use this oversight against the Empire, I’d implement an immediate remedy as soon as I walked into work tomorrow.”
He’d been trained by one of the best codebreakers in the Empire, hadn’t he? Cracking codes was Lidon’s specialty, next to kicking asses and quoting the Book of Life. As a member of High Command, Piras knew the agency computer’s protocols for coding. The system’s random selection make it impossible to decrypt any ciphers…but he didn’t have to.
He only had to break into his fellow fleet officers’ files and find those codes. Then hand them over to Maf. It was so easy, Piras could have wept. How could the fleet have overlooked this?
“Because so few in the fleet…in the entire damned Empire…have the skills to do this.”
Lidon had left the fleet, but he’d passed his abilities on to Piras. The Dramok had every assurance he could find the unmanned station codes. That he could change the codes, putting them under his sole control. He could render the installations useless, leaving Laro on its own to face the savagery of the Basma’s fleet. Even Laro could not stand up to a concentrated attack from a dozen or more ships. To hold the border lapse, Maf would send in a hell of a lot more than a dozen vessels.
Piras looked at the star chart, his hurt gaze aimed where the manned station was depicted. He felt a wave of grief as he thought of that first meeting with Lidon, of the promise of a lifelong love that didn’t happen. And now he was going to destroy that last sweet reminder, because it was his best chance to infiltrate the Basma’s inner circle and save the Empire.
Kila had claimed Piras was tough enough to go through with whatever duty demanded. Perhaps he was right, but he couldn’t have known the personal cost it would mean to the admiral.
“You’re making me kill the last remnant of the happiest time of my life,”
he whispered to no one. “And he’ll think I targeted Laro out of spite because he left me for Tranis. He may never know it ripped the heart right out of me.”
Piras sat quietly for a moment, feeling the pain and betrayal he was to visit on himself and others. He let it sit, acknowledging it as it deserved. Then he swallowed, drew a deep breath, and sat up straight.
It was with the steady voice of a formidable Dramok that he ordered, “Computer, access time of next staff turnover of Laro Space Station. I want duty rosters, schedules, current fleet movements in the area. Also, bring up codebreaking program labeled Piras’s Favorite Music. Give me the access portal to all members of High Command as well as the unmanned defense stations in the Laro sector grid.”
The soulless voice of the computer replied, “Please stand by. Programs running.”
Piras dove into treachery.