16. Lorken
Lorken
“Back so soon, brother?” My battle chief’s lips twitched as he turned at my approach, his heel-tapping salute delayed. “I did not expect to see you again before first watch.”
I spared Zarn only a flick of my eyes as I strode onto the command deck. “I wanted to ensure that our departure was clean and all our horde ships undamaged.”
Zarn nodded in a way that told me he believed not a word. Yet another problem with working with your brother. The infuriating Vandar knew me too well. There was nothing like a younger brother for knowing every tell, every expression, every tone of voice—and for letting you know it.
I clenched my teeth to keep from snapping at him. “Tactical report,” I barked to the nearest raider.
“All systems functional, and all weapons at the ready, Raas.”
I gave him a brusque nod and pivoted back to face the wide view of space that curved around the front of the space.
“Your majak laid in a course to rendezvous with Raas Wrexxon,” my brother said, disapproval tinging his voice.
“And you disagree with this because….?” I asked in a voice so low only he could hear me over the beeps and bursts of static.
“We should have requested that the other hordes meet us so we could join forces and take out the Zagrath menace on Gollun Prime.”
At any other time, I would have agreed with him, and a part of me hated that we’d left the fight. But another part of me remembered that our mission had been to save those who’d helped Kolt and Skye. Risking them in battle was not an option.
“Our majak was following my orders,” I told Zarn. “We cannot always be a deliverer of destruction to our enemy.”
My brother growled in response, his opposition clear.
“How long until we rendezvous?” I asked, shifting the conversation.
My battle chief huffed out a breath. “One cycle at the most.”
One cycle. Even though my deal with Athena was to release her once we’d found a safe planet for her and her friends, it was entirely possible that she could ask to join Wrexxon’s ship.
After all, she’d befriended Skye, who was on that ship.
What arguments could I invent to keep her with me if she wished to leave and consider Wrexxon’s ship a safe alternative?
“Perhaps we are being too hasty,” I said. “I assured our guests I would find a safe haven for them, and another warbird is no safer than ours.”
Zarn faced me fully, his arms crossed over his bare chest. “And where is this safe haven, Raas?”
I thumped him on the shoulder. “That is for you to discover. Scan this sector and find me a planet that is far from Imperial reach.”
One dark slash of a brow lifted higher on my brother’s face. “That means our guests will need to stay on our ship for longer, Raas. Do you think that’s wise?”
“What would be unwise about transporting refugees? They are not secret Zagrath spies.”
He twitched one shoulder. “Maybe not, but they are not Vandar.”
My brother’s suspicion regarding anyone who was not Vandar was well known.
Despite our Vandar brothers taking human mates for years, our lineage was pure Vandar.
This had always been told to us with some amount of pride, although considering our parents’ dislike of each other, I now failed to see why their union was to be admired.
“They are not Zagrath,” I said, my tone clipped. “They are also the ones who provided aid to another Vandar battle chief, so we treat them accordingly.”
Not even my prone-to-argument brother could argue with that. After all, he was a battle chief.
Still, he grunted. “And who will tell Raas Wrexxon that we will not rendezvous with his horde as promised.”
“I will.” I owed the Raas a transmission to tell him personally that we’d rescued the human—and to explain our delay.
Zarn pivoted back to face the view of space as we hurtled through it. “Will you tell him of your arrangement?”
“Arrangement?”
“With the human you saved.” He kept his gaze fixed ahead. “Unless making her your war bride was what Wrexxon requested. I did not remember that in the battle plans, but I am only battle chief.”
If he were any other raider I would have drawn my axe, but I knew all too well that Zarn was trying to provoke me. He wanted to get a reaction from me. He wanted me to snap at him. More reasons why I should not have appointed him my battle chief.
I bit back a tormented sigh. If only he wasn’t such a brilliant tactical strategist. I reminded myself why he was my battle chief, as I thought about how he’d rescued us from the planet earlier. Like everything Zarn did, it had been risky and effective. Just like his question to me.
“The arrangement with the human is temporary,” I told him, the words so firm I almost believed them myself. “It was a strategy I used to ensure her compliance. You should understand strategy, battle chief.”
Now he cut his gaze to me. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried that you might have changed your mind regarding tribute and the spoils of battle.”
“If I do, you will certainly be the first to know.”
Zarn would, in fact, be the last to know. My brother would view me taking a virtual stranger—and a human one—as a mate to be a gaping lapse in judgment.
His narrowed eyes told me that he knew this. Instead of challenging me, he strode to the nearest empty console, talking as he walked. “Per our security protocols, I have run some checks on our new guests”
“You did—?”
“We know little about the people you brought on board,” he continued without letting me speak. “Since they are not being confined to quarters—a mistake, if you ask me—it is imperative that we know their background. To ensure that they are not, as you have assured me, Zagrath spies.”
I could not argue with this logic, even though I wished to argue with him about virtually everything. Even so, I believed it to be a waste of time. “And did you find that they are all harmless theatre people?”
He tilted his head at me. “All of them have relatively boring pasts—except one.”