Scorpius'
marauder landed amidst the rubble and chaos of the Mhultaan's damaged
main landing bay. As he stepped out onto the deck, squads of
commandos jogged by, escorting damage control teams.
"Report,"
he snapped to no one in particular.Braca was at his side in an instant, taking a sit-rep from a flight deck officer.
"Apparently there was a Scarran dreadnought out of our scanner range." Braca told him as they rapidly made their way to the command core.
They were jostled by the hundreds of troops hurrying through the corridors. Damage control teams were everywhere attempting to make repairs.
"It moved in shortly after the Mhultaan engaged the smaller ships." Braca continued.
"A trap! I should have sensed it," Scorpius hissed to himself, then to Braca: "How bad is the damage?"
The door slid aside and they entered the command core. Braca accessed the nearest terminal and pulled up the information.
"The frag cannon took extensive damage and is offline. We lost thirty-four, no, thirty-five prowlers." Braca rapidly rattled off the details. "Ten more are disabled and scheduled for repair. Ordnance says many of the components needed for these repairs were damaged or destroyed in the attack."
"Das-trak krjtor," Scorpius swore under his breath with a deep Scarran growl. Then to Braca: "We need replacement ordnance. If more Scarran warships are lurking in this system, we would never survive another engagement."
Braca said nothing, but his eyes told the story.
"What is the nearest system with the materiel we require?" Scorpius asked, hand on the lieutenant's shoulder exerting an increasingly painful pressure.
Braca shuttled through the data before him until he found the information he was looking for. He pointed to the third planet of the Yrunndas system.
"Only sixty arns distance at hetch 9." Braca said softly.
"I'm not risking this ship," Scorpius told him as they both walked off to the side of the busy command core. "Take a team of your own choosing, Braca. Go to that planet and bring back the materiel we require as fast as you can. Do whatever it takes."
Scorpius saw the overwhelming pride fill Braca's face at this order. He clicked his heels more smartly than usual, bowing deeply before leaving the command core. He only hoped the young lieutenant would get back in time to save them all. Without the Mhultaan, the wormhole project would go nowhere. He would be finished. He had no all-powerful patron to protect him from First Council's rage this time should he fail.
"Lt. Trost, maneuver this ship beyond that sun. Hide us in its radiational output." He ordered looking out onto the hive of activity on the lower level of the core. "Dispatch prowler patrols to monitor any further Scarran activity in this system. All communications security three velka from here on out."
The Ordnance division, deep in the Mhultaan's main structure, was scarcely controlled bedlam. Braca saw the leading officer shouting orders as she sorted through at least a dozen reports. She was like so many other Peacekeeper females; tall, slender, with brown hair and pale eyes. Her Techs hovered about her in a distressed flock. She spoke to each one with calm intensity.
"Lt. Chalmer," Braca shouted to be heard above the din of a hundred voices, instruments, tools and signals. "A word if you please."
She glared at him for a microt before shooing her Techs back to their assignments. She motioned with a jerk of her head that he should follow her into her private office. He locked the door behind them.
"Braca, I do not have time for this right now," she told him with a forced smile. She was clearly working only on adrenaline by this point. "Have you seen the latest damage assessments? I can't fill the materiel orders with non-existent parts."
"This is strictly duty, Lieutenant." He said, his no-nonsense expression setting the tone for their meeting.
Veya Chalmer moved behind her desk, sifting through the newest pile of reports. She sighed, pushing a lose strand of brown hair from her face. She nodded at the chair opposite her, but he declined.
"Scorpius has given me a great honor," he told her, a smile brightening his dark eyes. "The Yrunndas system has a munitions complex on the third planet. It's a Sebacean colony. Our troops have never been stationed there, but the Peacekeepers have long done business with the natives.
"I'm familiar with it," Chalmer interjected.
"Scorpius has instructed me to take my own team to this planet, get the materiel we require for our repairs, and return to the Mhultaan as fast as we can."
"I can't leave my Techs with this dren, Braca." She replied, not unkindly. "This ship is the walking wounded. My team needs me here. The frag cannon is frelled."
Braca reached out a hand, touching the stray brown hairs on her forehead gently with the tips of his fingers.
"You're needed more on my team." He said gently before turning to leave her office. Over his shoulder he added, "Pick a couple of your Techs to assist with the acquisitions. Report to the main landing bay in three arns."
A squad of commandos was filing onto the marauder when Lt. Chalmer arrived in the landing bay. She was several microts late. Braca's glare telegraphed his disapproval. As he approached, she motioned her Techs to get into the line of troops boarding the ship.
"Being late for an assignment shows a deep disrespect," Braca informed her coldly. "I could have you severely reprimanded for flouting my authority."
Her mischievous smile only intensified the burning anger in his gut.
She leaned closer to him whispering, "Will you be punishing me personally, Lieutenant?"
They knew one another from a time when Crais still commanded the Mhultaan. She understood better than anyone else what his career meant to him. She watched him rise from a mere flunky, running errands and message traffic between the command core and the prowler divisions, to second officer under Crais and then Scorpius. They both survived that transition despite their mutual ties to Crais. Surely she couldn't misinterpret what this assignment meant for him. That she would seek to cut him down in such a contemptible manner bewildered and hurt him.
"Get aboard now," he ordered as he turned toward the waiting marauder without a backward glance at her.
"I can't believe how quickly we've gone through the last load of supplies," Senna Romero smiled pleasantly as she sorted and washed empty food containers in Talyn's center chamber.
"Two mouths to feed," Crais said dismissively. "Makes quite a difference."
She watched him, his back turned to her, making notations on a small computer tablet. Her smile wilted. More than three months since her return from Moya and the ice age continued. The feeling of his arms around her following her return was a fleeting memory. The way he pulled away from her after several long moments, leaving her alone for days, remained sharp in her mind.
Aeryn Sun obviously understood the situation and was right. Crais would never unbend. He would never let her in or accept the feelings she had for him. At least he no longer took his frustrations out on her verbally or physically. She was no longer included in his daily martial arts practice. She was no longer included in much of anything aboard Talyn beyond the chores of cleaning and cooking.
I could have gotten the same damned thing on Earth if I'd married such a cold, shut off bastard as this, she thought angrily.
"What?" he asked turning to catch the glint in her eyes as she watched him.
She wondered for a moment if she had spoken her thoughts out loud.
"Nothing," she said innocently. "Nothing at all."
His jaw and lips worked in that impatient way that told her he was disappointed and disapproving of her again. He shook his head in a slight affirmative before turning back to his task.
She didn't bother slamming the containers or putting on an emotional display of any kind. It would only make him colder and more disapproving. As she was about to leave the center chamber, his voice stopped her.
"Talyn informs me Yrunndas III is now within a solar day's distance."
"Grand," Senna said without turning around. "Am I invited on this shopping jaunt, or don't you need a pack mule this trip?"
His disgruntled sigh told her that her jibe succeeded. She smiled bitterly.
"I will require your presence." His voice was tight with barely restrained anger.
"Well, then," she chuckled, uncaring. "Since I am required, let me put on my best prison dress for the occasion."
The door slid shut behind her before he could respond.
A quarter of an arn later, Crais entered her quarters without warning. He found her in a state of undress and averted his gaze.
"Can I help you?" Senna asked sarcastically making no move to cover her bare breasts as she sat down on the end of the bed.
He knew at that moment she must be destined only to infuriate and aggravate him. Since her return he had gone to great lengths never to permit himself to lose his temper in front of her. He would not allow himself that luxury now. He shook his head and stroked his beard with a gloved hand, his eyes narrowing. He smiled patronizingly at her.
"I did not have the chance to inform you before you made your hasty retreat from the center chamber," he said, his tone scathing. "Talyn's rear cannon has enjoyed a growth spurt which has unfortunately made it necessary to refit certain components."
Senna said nothing, still making no effort to cover herself even as he moved to stand in front of her. He sighed impatiently.
"We will have to make arrangements with the munitions complex on Yrunndas III for these components." He explained tersely. "It is well known to the Peacekeepers, who frequently use it to reequip in this sector. We will take a transport pod the rest of the way to the planet, leaving Talyn hidden here."
He paused a beat then added, "We will both go in as Peacekeepers to avoid any unwanted attention."
His right hand moved from behind his back in a flash. The female Peacekeeper uniform and boots landed behind her on the bed. The boots tumbled to the deck with a dull thud. She looked at them in horror.
"Oh, I know you can't be serious," she said, jumping up from the bed to move away from him. "I could never pass as a Peacekeeper."
"In most instances this would be true." Crais retorted resentfully. "However, this will only work if I go in with a subordinate officer at my side. These things are normally handled by junior officers and ordnance Techs. A single Peacekeeper captain would cause undue suspicion."
"Then you wear this!" She replied scooping the black uniform off the bed and tossing it at him. She covering her breasts and turned away from him.
His patience was at an end and he would take no more of her disrespect. "This is not an invitation. It is an order."
He grabbed her by the arm, jerking her around to face him. He picked up the uniform, shaking it at her. "Put this uniform on, or I will put it on you."
He watched the expressions crossing her face as she toyed briefly with this image. He tightened his grip and shook her until she couldn't mistake his meaning.
"Need I remind you of your vow not to put Talyn in danger, Senna?" He asked in a low, deadly tone. He released her arm and she fell back awkwardly onto the bed. He turned away before she could respond.
It was the first time he had called her by name since the day she returned from Moya. He looked over his shoulder at her and could see she was unnerved by it. She blinked, shaking her head negatively.
"No," she said quietly after a long silence. "No you don't, Bialar."
Crais worked quickly in a space countersunk in the deck of the transport pod. His hands were bare and his sleeves shoved upward. He realigned crystals, switched connectors on wires, and then ran a scanner over his work. When it made a sharp, whining bleat, he slammed the device angrily aside and thrust his hands back down into the space.
There had been a whole host of ways he could have approached her regarding their mission to the munitions complex. Her surly behavior both in the center chamber and later in her quarters had unsettled him, set him on edge. He lost his temper with her again, despite his promise to himself.
Even though she had as good as admitted feelings for him, her behavior grew more willful and contemptuous each day. When he thought he might be able to reach out to her in some gesture of kindness or even intimacy, she spoiled the moment with her anger, resentment and disrespect.
He would never understand her; or himself for that matter for allowing Talyn to talk him into returning to Moya to take her back. He sensed Talyn's strong attachment to her and it angered him. Talyn had grown to think of her as part of himself, as Crais was. That simply couldn't be allowed. Not at any price. One day he would figure out what to do with the troubling human woman. Until then, she was a passenger. Nothing more. It wasn't jealousy. It was practicality.
He checked his work again. Still wrong. He dropped the scanner, reaching for a small tool from the kit beside him. His hand was almost too large to get the tool where he needed it and he tried forcing it. A hail of sparks rewarded his efforts, the tool slipping from his stinging fingers down into the space. He growled with anger, but before he could try to retrieve the tool, he heard footsteps behind him.
"Captain," Senna called timidly.
He turned to see her walking tentatively toward him and his breath caught in his throat.
The black junior officer's uniform had been Darinta Larell's, taken accidentally in the jumble of items he tossed into a jump bag when he fled the Mhultaan. When he found it, he nearly destroyed it, but memories of her kept him from it. His bitter sentimentality now proved useful.
The transformation was astonishing. It fit Senna perfectly, though her hips were wider than Larell's and her breasts larger. The thick, black fabric was forgiving, clinging to her curves as though tailored just for her. The boots they'd purchased on Treyan VII made her legs look longer, more defined. Her hair had grown out almost to her shoulders since her rescue from the Tirysp. She had slicked it back and tied it into a queue similar to his.
"Will this do, Captain?" She said respectfully as she stopped a pace away from him, back ramrod straight and hands clasped behind her.
He blinked rapidly, trying to take it all in. In her time aboard Talyn, he had considered her a nuisance at best; a female version of Crichton at worst. He had never truly considered her as a woman. Now he saw a degree of the beauty she'd possessed before her ordeal with the Tirysp and was forced at last to see her in a new light. Her olive skin, almond-shaped green eyes and full lips struck him as though he was seeing them for the first time. He had blinded himself to it all because she was an alien.
He was unsure if it was her metamorphosis now causing these feelings to stir uncomfortably to the surface, or that the uniform had belonged to a woman he loved. A tentative smile curved her lips, a questioning look in her eyes. He had the sudden realization that he'd been staring at her silently for several microts.
Still rubbing the skin over his right knuckles where he'd been shocked he said, "Yes, it will do."
She seemed pleased by his simple statement and her smile widened, reaching her eyes for the first time since he'd known her. She came down onto one knee opposite him, looking from his hand to the open space between their feet.
"Can I help?" she asked, her tone all business.
He considered her for a bit before saying, "Each Peacekeeper vessel has a distinct code signature it transmits, allowing it to be identified. I am trying to change the code signature of the transport pod to hide us from detection."
She shook her head in understanding. He handed her the scanner and she ran it over the space, wincing at the piercing wail.
"I have been unsuccessful," he said with a wry smile. "As you can see."
They both chuckled at this and she sat the scanner aside and pushed up her own sleeves.
"To make matters worse," he groused, trying to reach down into the space again. "I dropped a tool in there."
He was rewarded with another shock, the sparks singing the fine hairs on his hand. She took his hand in hers before he could stop her, rubbing the offended skin tenderly. Their eyes met, only denches apart over the open space. Swallowing uncomfortably, he slid his hand from hers and backed away onto his haunches.
"Let me," she said self consciously. "I have smaller hands."
He watched as her long, delicate fingers slid gingerly between conduits, crystals and connectors. She bit her lip as she felt around the space blindly, then a look of triumph flashed in her eyes. Her hand slowly rose with the lost tool grasped between her thumb and forefinger.
Crais nodded his approval and smiled slightly.
"If you guide me, I can do it." She told him.
He acquiesced reluctantly, not sure if he'd made the right decision.
He talked her slowly through the process watching as her fingers moved crystal chips and connectors with ease. After nearly an arn she pulled her hands from the space. He ran the scanner over her work and it emitted a satisfying humming tone.
"Success!" She exulted sitting back on her heels.
"Success." He agreed.
As she replaced the floor plate over the space he rose and straightened his uniform. He retrieved the gun belt with a pulse pistol in its holster from the pilot's seat as she stood up.
"Now. . .Lieutenant," he said emphasizing the word. "This is for you."
Senna looked at the weapon as if it might bite her hand off.
"You won't have to use it," Crais assured her. "But it will look peculiar if you aren't armed."
She seemed to consider it for a long time before reaching tentatively out to touch it. Her hands trembled as she took it from him. She looped it around her waist, nearly dropping it, and fumbled ineptly with the clasp. He took it from her and fastened the belt easily. Their faces were almost touching.
He tapped the rank insignia over her left breast lightly with the tip of a finger.
"Senna, you'll be fine." He said softly. "I've hidden a buffering chip beneath this."
She looked down at the insignia then her eyes were on his again.
"It will make your energy signature appear as Sebacean should you be scanned." He assured her, and then added as he moved away from her, "Follow my lead. Do whatever I tell you without question."
"Aye, aye, sir." She replied, obviously forcing more courage into her voice than she felt.
Braca looked out onto the street between the slats of the shudders. The midday sun's heat had the effect of a forced rest period on the entire region. The streets below were deserted. The hostelry's deskman told him it was like this every day on Yrunndas III. Best to take a room, rest through the hottest part of the day, then conduct business in the cool of the evening.
As Braca watched Veya Chalmer sleeping on the narrow bed in his room, he couldn't question the logic of the deskman's advice. She obviously needed the rest. She and her Techs had been run ragged by the battle with the Scarrans and the resultant damage control afterward. The long, sleepless journey to the Yrunndas system only added to their extreme fatigue.
They spent the first arn in the room arguing before Chalmer caved in, apologizing for flouting his authority. They'd recreated then, roughly, quickly, his anger and apprehension about the mission driving him. They got dressed again and shortly afterward she fell into a deep sleep.
With its main weapon offline, the Mhultaan was practically defenseless. But, it wouldn't help matters if his second in command on this mission collapsed from exhaustion in the heat. No Sebacean in their right mind would risk the Living Death by toiling in the high temperature awaiting them outdoors. Two arns' rest couldn't possibly foul their mission.
He quietly commed the both squads of commandos, ordering them into standby positions. He then instructed the Techs to rest as well. Those tasks completed, he shucked his uniform jacket and lowered the temperature on the cooler unit. He set the timer on his wrist chrono to signal at sunset.
One side of the bed butted against the rear wall of his room. He squeezed himself between Chalmer's body and the wall, carefully settling in without disturbing her sleep. He took his pulse pistol in his right hand and gently draped his arm over her body. He pointed the weapon toward the only door in the room before closing his eyes and falling asleep as well.
Crais eased the transport pod down onto the far side of the landing field as directed by the main tower. He looked across the center console at Senna, finding her eyes locked straight ahead, an expression of frozen terror on her face. He pushed the controls away and rose to stretch muscles cramped from the long flight. He noticed she remained fixed, unmoving.
"Senna," he said softly standing beside her. "It's time."
She seemed to shake herself, taking a deep breath before turning frightened eyes on him.
"Yes, Captain," she said, obviously trying hard to sound brave.
He watched as she rose, faltered, then straightened, smoothing her uniform with trembling hands. He motioned for her to go ahead of him out of the portal and down the ladder. She stood squinting on the ground as he climbed down.
"Damn," she whispered shading her eyes with a hand. "Don't you people believe in sunglasses?"
"Not necessary," he chided motioning her to follow closely at his side. "Sebacean eyes can adjust to most light levels. It would have to be far worse than this to need protective lenses."
"Ah," she replied, not sounding convinced.
As he led them to the main control center for the landing area her stride slowed and she began to fall behind. He stopped, turning an angry look on her.
"We can't go in there," she said between clenched teeth.
"No questions, Lieutenant!" he hissed, eyes like fire. "We have to register our arrival or risk arrest and seizure of the transport pod."
"Great," she said falling into step with him again. "Any other surprises I need to know about."
"Look," he whispered sharply. "You are going to have at least try to act like a Peacekeeper. Unafraid, arrogant, controlled. Understand?"
"Yes, sir." She replied in a flat monotone. "Putting on my Nazi face now, sir."
He shook his head in disgust as they approached the field entrance to the main control center. He spared her an angry glance then motioned with his eyes that she should open the door. She seemed to understand, jumping in front of him to comply with her head bowed respectfully.
Fully in his element, Crais strode purposefully to the registrar desk, an ident-chip held arrogantly out before him.
"Captain Anton and Lt. Larell, Rydal Carrier Group." He announced gruffly. "Here for parts acquisition."
The registrar took the chip, slipped it into his console, and then turned tired, jaded eyes to examining them. Crais' gaze made him avert his eyes, but he noticed when they fell upon Senna they lingered longingly. Brow furrowed, he spared her a sidelong glance. Her eyes were locked straight ahead, her face a careful blank. He returned his gaze to the registrar making it one of such furious disapproval the man shuddered.
He handed the ident-chip back to Crais, adding tremulously: "Welcome to Yrunndas, Captain. Enjoy your stay."
Crais said nothing in reply, but murdered the man with his stare. He tucked the ident-chip back into his sleeve pocket before spinning on his heel to leave. He was relieved that Senna mimicked his turn and was close behind him.
"That was tense," she said softly once they were away from the landing field. "What was that?"
"I don't know what you mean," Crais said not slowing his stride.
"The attitude." She replied.
He spared her an irritated, questioning look.
"Never mind," she sighed. "No wonder your people have never known peace."
"Intimidation is the time-honored norm for Peacekeeper senior officers," Crais replied angrily. "Just as quiet acceptance is the standard for junior officers. . .Lieutenant."
He quickened his pace, forcing her to hurry to keep up.
The daytime heat was rapidly becoming oppressive. Walking through the dusty streets, Crais located a lodging facility and motioned Senna inside. The interior was cool and dark. Crais sighed his relief as he removed his garrison cap and motioned Senna across the small lobby to the front desk. He rang the signal chime, rousing the keeper with a start.
The Sebacean woman pulled her enormous frame from a chair and waddled toward them with a friendly smile.
"Hello, Captain, Lieutenant," she said with a warm drawl, recognizing their rank insignia. "Rooms for ya?"
"A single room," Crais said slapping currency chits down on the counter.
The old woman chuckled at this before reaching out to take the money. With a groan she stooped down to retrieve two code keys from beneath the counter. She slid them into the console on the desk before handing them individually to Crais then Senna.
"Musta been a big battle somewheres or other," she observed, still grinning at them.
Crais looked gruffly at her but held his tongue.
"You're the second group of Peacekeepers in town today," she continued. "Ya looking to acquire parts, too?"
"That is of no concern to you," Crais snapped before turning away from her. Senna followed him without being told.
"You're on level 6, Captain," she called after them with a cackling laugh.
Crais' Peacekeeper-trained senses were heightened as he stepped out of the level riser on the sixth floor. The hallway was little more than a catwalk, open along one side to the elements. He motioned for Senna to follow him. She emerged from the level riser, squinting, hand shading her eyes again.
He located their room, slipping the code key into the lock. The door slid aside slowly. He held a hand up, letting her know wordlessly that he was going to secure the room first. He eased inside carefully, pulse pistol in his hand. He checked around and under the beds and in the hygiene chamber. When satisfied the room was safe, he returned to the door and waved Senna inside with his still drawn pulse pistol.
The door closed and he punched the locking mechanism. He turned to meet her frightened gaze.
"There's no way of knowing who the other acquisition group is or where they're from," he told her tightly. "One thing we can be certain of however, I will be easily recognized."
"Bialar," she breathed, her voice filled with emotion.
"I will not allow us to be captured," he told her, eying the pulse pistol in his hand.
She nodded and the expression on her face told him she understood his meaning exactly.
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