Chapter 4
Piras had set dinner out on the balcony of his home, high in the branches of a giant ribaw tree.
The setting was especially nice on a summer night, when the air had cooled and the sky sparkled with stars through the canopy of sapphire leaves.
A few glowballs, installed along the balcony railing, provided low, intimate lighting.
Not that Piras was trying to set the scene for romance.
Ancestors, no.
He’d burned that bridge well and truly with Kila. He simply liked being out on the balcony. That was the only reason he’d chosen it for their dinner.
He was sure the meal was good, though he picked at his ronka steak.
Kila’s rate of eating told him he approved.
Of course, maybe the Nobek wasn’t used to such fare. In Piras’s days of spacefaring, a decent cut of meat was as rare as the bloody slab Kila shoveled into his face. The captain drank with as much passion as he ate, swallowing glass after glass of the first-rate bohut he’d brought.
Piras nibbled at his steak, which was a good deal less rare than Kila’s.
Most of the dread he felt had little to do with the coming discussion of the offered mission.
He feared…and also hoped…Kila would bring up their last meeting.
So far the Nobek captain had offered nothing more than pleasantries and humorous observations about his new chief engineer.
From what Kila had told him, Piras thought he’d have his hands full of the dual-breed Lokmi.
He wondered how much of Lokmi’s Dramok side Kila had seen.
If he’d compared the engineer to Piras.
A throb of disquiet threaded its way through his guts. He scowled at his half-eaten steak and pushed it away.
Almost simultaneously, Kila pushed his plate away too, though it had nothing left on it.
When Kila eyed Piras’s leftovers, the Dramok chuffed a laugh and pushed it to him.
Kila happily consumed it, though it wasn’t as raw as he professed to prefer it.
At last, the anxious moment arrived. Kila sat back on his cushion and rubbed his belly with a contented sigh. He looked over Piras, sizing him up. The Dramok tensed.
“This mission. Only a few will know about it,”
Kila said.
Piras relaxed. “From what I can tell, Fleet Admiral Hobato and Admiral Tranis may be the entirety of High Command who are aware of it.”
He frowned. “Hobato must be worried about treason to keep such a scheme to himself.”
“I think someone from the Imperial Clan might be conscious of our mission too. Most likely Emperor Bevau.”
Kila grimaced. “Not that it matters. If we get caught by our own people, no one will vouch for us.”
“That’s usually the way of assignments deemed as a high risk to the Empire’s leaders.”
“If we do this right, you’re going to be an unpopular man. To most, you will be a traitor, someone to kill on sight.”
Kila’s usual smirk was nowhere in evidence as he stared at his senior officer.
Piras answered in his driest tone. “I have a number of people who feel that way without me turning on the Empire.”
Kila lightened up at that sally, snickering. “You do have a reputation for pissing underlings off. Your ability to command can’t be denied, and those who don’t measure up to your standards have paid dearly for it. That demand for excellence is the stuff of legend.”
His gaze rested on Piras, the attitude evaluating. The Dramok wondered if Kila compared the man he was on a ship’s bridge to the man he became in the sleeping room.
He hurried to keep the conversation on point. “Do you have the target that I’m to betray and win me a spot in the Basma’s heart?”
“The choice of victims is up to you.”
At Piras’s confusion, Kila grimaced. “This isn’t pretend, Piras. You have to go traitor in everything but your heart. This will be for real.”
A sick feeling wormed its way into Piras’s gut. He didn’t like what he was hearing. What he must be misunderstanding. “I’m not getting you, Captain. Spell it out in the small words you know best.”
Kila didn’t react to the insult. “The Basma is exceedingly careful about those he can’t blackmail into helping him. If he can’t hold you hostage through past misdeeds, then he must be absolutely sure of your desire for a pure Kalquor. That means immersing yourself in being the best turncoat you can be.”
The queasy feeling strengthened, turning into outright nausea. “I’m to defect. All the way. You want me to give Maf the means to take out an actual target.”
“You will feed me, the Basma’s somewhat trusted spy, information about a colony or military installation that will benefit his forces in some way. You must give me its weaknesses and strengths in preparation for the revolt to attack it. It has to be a real target, Piras. Something the Basma will want to have.”
Piras thought it over. He could see the advantages and difficulties of such a project. He appreciated the wisdom of such a maneuver. Something like that could indeed get him into Maf’s inner sanctum. Yet he felt there was more to it, something ugly under the seemingly cut-and-dry operation. Why else would his gut be churning so hard?
He repeated what he thought he knew to clarify the assignment. “I’m to identify a target that will help swing the war to the Basma’s advantage. I’m also to give him the means to successfully attack that target. And no one, including those who are aware that I’m playing double agent, can know what target I choose?”
“Such a smart fellow. No wonder they made you an admiral.”
“Fuck off. What am I missing, Kila? If the Fleet Admiral or Admiral Tranis don’t know what I’m up to, who will warn the target of the coming attack?”
Kila shook his head. “Warn the target? So much for you being smart. At least you have a nice ass.”
Piras ignored the innuendo, his focus on the dawning horror. “Wait, if no one warns the colony or base I choose, then people will be killed. You’re talking about me serving up victims to the Basma on a silver platter.”
“My faith in you is restored.”
Kila sounded tired rather than teasing. It was as good a sign as any that bloodshed was on the menu.
Piras stared at Kila, aghast. No wonder his instincts were screaming. “If I choose a colony, it will mean civilian casualties. A military post will lose us good, loyal fighters and perhaps weaken our defenses.”
“It will also win you and I the Basma’s complete confidence, making us privy to important information we can use to impeded Maf’s fleet.”
Piras jumped to his feet and paced back and forth. His bare feet managed to make plenty of noise on the wooden balcony. He was stomping in his agitation, but it still didn’t make as much noise as the disbelieving chaos in his head. How could Hobato sanction such a ruse?
“You’re telling me to become a butcher. I’m an asshole, not a murderer, Kila. There is a difference, you know.”
Kila watched him, his expression weary but unruffled. “If that bastard Maf has the Earthers under Copeland on his side – and it’s certain he does – then we are in for a long, deadly war, Piras. One that could finish the Empire. To get in close enough to Maf and the Holy Leader means sacrifices must be made.”
“But to give the victims no chance! No hope!”
“If the target is military, then we’re discussing mainly Nobeks.”
Piras halted to snarl at him. “Just because there are more of your breed and they make up the majority of the deserters doesn’t mean I should sign them up for a killing spree.”
Lidon’s face flashed in his imagination.
A ghost of Kila’s sarcastic smile flitted over his lips. “Well, that warms my sweet little heart to hear you care so much for my breed, Dramok.”
“This is not a joke, you stupid fuck. What the hell is wrong with you to treat this so lightly? I should push your worthless hide right off the balcony for being such a callous shit.”
His voice rose as he berated Kila like he had once unloaded on his unlucky crews. None of it was bluff. When Piras said he would hurt someone, he meant it.
Kila laughed out loud and stood. He bowed. “There’s the brute I’ve heard so much about. Nice to meet the real Piras. I’ve been hoping to give him a reason to show up.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ll give you that pleasure after we’ve finished this conversation.”
Before Piras could protest that no such thing would happen, Kila turned serious again. “I’m not laughing at you, Piras. Your reaction is part of what makes you so right for this mission. You care for the innocents caught in the middle of the Basma and government’s pissing contest. Yet you’re hard enough that once you’re committed, you’ll see this thing through.”
“Hard enough to commit mass murder? You’re an absolute idiot if you think that’s who I am.”
“Hard enough to help us win the war despite the unpleasantness.”
“Unpleasantness.”
Piras shook his head. Only a Nobek would call killing others ‘unpleasant’.
Kila continued doggedly. “Let’s get back to my earlier point about a military target taking out mostly Nobeks, which you so rudely interrupted.”
“Shithead. You deserve to be interrupted. Muzzled even.”
Kila brushed off his insults. “I do not downplay my breed’s right to live despite our numbers and treachery, Piras. Do not think I take the matter lightly.”
He stretched and stood up. He walked to the edge of the balcony, looking though the blue-leaf canopy at the moons above. Lobam was easy to see, and Piras noted the pained look that crossed the Nobek’s face. Lost moon. Lost people. It had hit them all hard.
Kila continued. “As a Nobek loyal to my empire, I welcome the chance to die in glorious battle, especially against impossible odds. If I was on an installation you chose to sacrifice, I would celebrate it.”
“Even knowing your empire had set you up?”
“To serve the greater good? Of course.”
His answer came without hesitation.
Piras stared at him. Didn’t Kila know that such a death would be pointless? Could he truly believe all the nonsense he spouted?
Yet he thought it was something Lidon would have said. The realization made emotions bubble up. Piras swallowed the sensation that he was choking on something. “I have never understood the way your breed thinks. I don’t think I want to.”
“Mull the mission over. Look over potential targets, and see if there isn’t one that doesn’t hurt your feelings for us to lose while making the Basma happy. We have a few of days to sort this out.”
Piras shook his head violently. “It’s madness. Sheer madness.”
“How else would you describe war? But for now, let’s forget the Empire’s problems. I’m fed, I’m at my limit for alcohol consumption, and I’m ready to fuck. Where are we having sex?”
Piras stared at Kila. The bald statement took him by surprise, especially considering that they’d just been discussing killing their fellow Kalquorians. Yet the hot, knowing gaze the Nobek skewered him with made him shake inside, and not with anger.
He did his best not to show how the abrupt change in conversation affected him. He tried to take refuge in the Dramok nature that came so readily when sex was not in play.
He folded his arms over his chest. “I would have thought after our last encounter, sex would be the last thing you’d want from me.”
“So the submission wasn’t faked? Not an attempt to warn me off?”
“No. It was not.”
“How interesting.”
Kila looked him up and down, assessing. “A man who stops at nothing to assert his control everywhere else, but gives it up when he wants to fuck.”
Piras refused to drop his gaze. “I have my preferences like any person.”
I have nothing to be ashamed of.
Kila came closer until he stood bare inches from Piras. The Dramok was tall, but Kila had a slight height advantage. And far more bulk. Piras tried not to remember how Kila’s weight had felt on top of him.
The Nobek’s voice was soft with wonder. His tone held no hint of insult. “You have to admit, those are uncommon preferences for a member of your breed. Not that I mind being in control, as you undoubtedly noticed. I’ve never come so hard as I did with you.”
Piras’s heart rate picked up. Once Kila had recovered from the initial confusion over his refusal to fight for dominance during their encounter, the Nobek had turned into the exacting, dominating lover Piras craved.
And he admitted he had enjoyed it.
Scarcely daring to hope, Piras said, “I do not apologize for what is in my nature. I am who I am. I like what I like. I’m not changing that to make anyone else happy.”
“That’s all there is to it? No self-examination? No wondering why it feels good to give yourself up to another?”
Kila’s gaze was hot, demanding.
“Why do you care?”
“Because if I’m going to fuck you…and I have every intention of doing so, and as often as possible…I want to be sure there’s nothing beyond you simply being born submissive. No baggage we can’t work through.”
Piras’s eyes narrowed. “You talk like you’re looking for more than a fling.”
Kila grinned. “You’ll be on my ship for a long time with this mission. We might as well lay down the ground rules ahead of it.”
“Such as?”
“You get to be admiral outside my sleeping room, but you’ll be my sweet fuck boy when those doors close.”
Piras scowled. “You’d better believe I’m in charge when sex isn’t involved. You’ll be a very sorry bastard if you challenge me, Kila.”
“As you’ll be when I have you in my bed. Make no mistake about that.”
Piras knew he should be seething. Kila was too self-assured about being in control over him. If they’d been discussing anything besides sex, Piras would be putting him in his place right that moment. However, they were in the realm where his indomitable will crumbled. It was far too easy to make himself vulnerable to this Nobek. To share his secret.
“You need to know exactly how I am. Where my head is at.”
“I want to know. Spare no details. Don’t make me guess.”
“My personality means I am always in control. When it comes to the fleet or life decisions, I must grab hold of the reins and direct everything. I am driven to guide matters to the best solution as I see it. To not just provide direction but lead the charge.”
“The typical Dramok mindset.”
“Most of my breed carries that load in every aspect of their lives. And they love it. But for me – it’s a burden. One I can’t avoid, one I can’t live without, but a crushing weight nonetheless. I get tired, but I can’t let go of being in control.”
“Except in this one thing. Sex is where you give yourself the break you need.”
Piras nodded. He couldn’t have told another Dramok such things. He’d never heard of another member of his breed needing to let go of dominance for any reason. Yet it was that way for him. When it came to intimacies, Piras couldn’t summon the will to lead. Somehow the responsibility of figuring out the pleasure owed to another person was more than he could face. It was too much effort on top of everything else that drove him forward.
He told Kila, “If you want a lover who will fight to control you, to give you the pleasure of surrendering yourself, you’ve come to the wrong man. I cannot offer you that.”
“Is that why Nobek Lidon left you for Admiral Tranis?”
Piras stopped breathing. His whole body felt as if it had turned to stone. Something in his skull buzzed as he replayed Kila’s voice speaking Lidon’s name.
Rage flared, searing all sense. Piras didn’t run from it. He threw himself into it, taking shelter within the blaze to hide from the hurt of that loss. As he had so many times before.
Between clenched teeth, he snarled, “Get the fuck out of my home. Fuck the mission. Fuck you. Fuck you!”
“Bullseye, huh?”
Kila’s tone was lazy.
Piras took a step back, shaking with humiliated fury. He needed to get out of arm’s length of the Nobek. Not because he feared Kila. Not for one second. Now that he was seething, he had only one thing to fear: what he might do to the other man.
Hanging on by a thread, Piras said, “Get out or you’ll see the fight you want. I’ll fling your useless carcass off the balcony.”
Kila eyed him with wary interest. He stared at Piras as if he’d reached to pet a caged zibger only to realize the cage door was wide open. Piras saw him through a red-tinged haze. The last of his control was fraying. His fists clenched.
Kila abruptly bowed. “As being tossed a hundred feet to the ground would no doubt ruin the rest of my night, I will leave. I’ll check back in with you at your office to hear of your decision regarding the mission. Will you be all right?”
“Go. Now.”
“Yes. I see that would be wise. Thank you for dinner. I’ll let myself out.”
Kila turned and walked into the home, the only way to reach the stairs or motorized conveyance that would let him out. Not quickly, but at a purposeful pace. Piras counted off the seconds, giving Kila time to leave the house. Then he went through each room, making sure the Nobek had indeed departed. There was no sign of Kila.
Piras went back out to the balcony, feeling too closed in despite the spaciousness of his home. He stood near the outer wall, drawing deep breaths, trying to calm down. It didn’t work. He stayed riled, ready to tear something apart.
He suddenly pivoted, driving his fist against the wall with a thunderous roar ripping from his throat. Familiar pain exploded, reverberating up his arm. It did the trick, however. The worst of the anger bled from him in an instant, giving him peace.
He relished the throbbing ache as he looked at his knuckles, scarred from many such demonstrations. Damaging himself was a poor outlet for his rage, but Piras had come to terms with many of his idiosyncrasies. Though he submitted for sex, he was still a Dramok in every other respect. Nothing drove his breed crazier than not being able to exert control. The frustration had to be spent somehow.
The fact that Kila knew about Lidon was very much out of Piras’s control. That he’d guessed Piras’s sexual inclinations had a lot to do with why their relationship had failed was a source of profound embarrassment. And there wasn’t a damned thing Piras could do about that.
He licked a drop of blood from one knuckle. Far better to punch walls than commit murder because he couldn’t dictate what others did. Though in Piras’s opinion, Kila deserved to be pitched off a balcony. He had no business nosing into Piras’s personal affairs. No business pretending he cared anything about Piras’s past. Or cared about anything to do with Piras.
“Fucking Nobeks. To hell with the whole breed.”