"I just thought of something," Lerotan said, frowning. "If Trag flies Veluka's ship, who's going to fly mine?"
"I hadn't thought of that," Jack mumbled. "We're a little short on pilots these days.
Veluka, you're sure you wouldn't--"
"You're forgetting me," said Curly. "I can fly it."
"See, Mom," Larry giggled. "I told you we could help!"
"You're kidding me, right?" said Lerotan. Aiming a skeptical eye at Curly, he added, "How old are you?"
"Seven," Curly replied. "But I can do it. I fly Mom's ship all the time."
Lerotan was shaking his head, but Jack nodded in agreement. "He's not kidding, Leroy. He really can fly."
"I'm not worried about the flying," Lerotan said, "It's his ability to land that concerns me."
"Well, he might have a little trouble with your bucket of bolts, Leroy," said Jack.
"But he can land mine slicker than snot!"
"And I can navigate," said Moe. "Where is it we're going?"
"Great Mother of the--" Lerotan muttered.
"Oh, and you might want to take Althea with you too, Leroy," Tisana said, indicating her daughter. "Having one witch on each ship would be best."
"I'm almost afraid to ask what she does," Lerotan said, eyeing the green-eyed little beauty with a grim smile. "She doesn't shoot fireballs, does she?"
"Oh, no," said Tisana proudly. "Her talents are much more refined than that."
"What about us?" Aidan and Alrik piped up.
"Their specialty is diversionary tactics," Leo said with a nod toward his sons.
"Just put them in a crowd and stand back!"
"Look, my ship is not a daycare center," Lerotan argued, his tail beginning to tap audibly. "I can't have it manned by children."
"Not scared, are you, Leroy?" Windura chided him. "I thought you never got upset about anything."
"Well, usually not, but--"
"How about if I go with you and look after the kids?"
Lerotan seemed momentarily relieved, then added, "I thought you were collateral for Veluka's ship."
Veluka shook his head sadly. "I fear your need is now greater than mine, Lerotan.
Take her, and I will keep some of your weapons instead." His scales fluttered as he attempted to smile. "That way I will be able to arm my ship when you return."
"What's left of it, anyway," Trag said. "You know, I'm not that good at landing myself..."
"Oh, be quiet, Trag," Tisana admonished. "You'll start him humming again!"
But Veluka was already beginning to vibrate. Within seconds he was in a full-
fledged hum.
"Does it ever stop on its own?" Tisana inquired.
"Eventually," said Trag. "But it takes a while."
"Funny, he always seemed so unflappable before," Jack observed. "Wonder what's gotten into him?"
"I guess everyone has their limits," Lerotan said with an eye toward Windura.
"Dinner should be waiting for us in the dining room by now," Kyra said after consulting the timestones that ringed a nearby window.
"Let's just leave him here then," said Jack, motioning for the others to follow.
"C'mon, gang. We've got an impossible mission to plan."
***
approached. He had news, and none of it was good. "Sir," Worell began, "did you ever hear of a woman by the name of Jacinth Tshevnoe?"
"You mean the one who blasts every Nedwut she sees?" Grekkor replied with a short bark of laughter as he flipped out his napkin. "Yes, I've heard of her."
"You asked me to find friends and contacts of Lerotan Kanotay and the Nerik, Veluka. She is one of them."
If anything, Grekkor appeared bored. He dismissed the minion who was pouring
his wine with a casual wave. "Do you really think we can't handle her?"
"Possibly, but you do know about her husband?"
"Ah, yes, Cat! The Zetithian who told everyone that the Nedwuts destroyed
Zetith--or so I've heard." He paused to inhale the bouquet of the wine before taking a delicate sip. "Your point?"
"Sir, they were able to spread the word about that, and everyone believed him."
The meaning was finally sinking in, wiping the smug smile from Grekkor's
aristocratic face. "And those two women are on Kanotay's ship..."
Worell nodded. "Rumor has it that his pilot is Zetithian as well--the brother of the rock star, Tycharian."
Grekkor exhaled with an expression so dire Worell was amazed there were no
flames.
"I fear they will spread the word, sir."
"But without proof..."
"They had no direct evidence against the Nedwuts, sir, but that doesn't alter the fact--"
"Who wouldn't believe that of the Nedwuts?" Grekkor scoffed. "They were the perfect scapegoats."
Worell kept his face as impassive as ever but thought privately that many would
believe it of Grekkor as well. "Tycharian has many fans. If he were to accuse you publicly..."
"He wouldn't dare!" Grekkor slammed down his wineglass, splashing the pristine tablecloth with a crimson stain.
"Pardon me, sir, but I believe he would--particularly in light of the assassination attempt against him."
"Drugged-out fanatics don't frighten me."
Worell considered this foolish. "Sir, they were unarmed, and yet they tore the Nedwut assassins to pieces. I would not underestimate their strength."
Worell could almost see the wheels turning inside Grekkor's head. It was a few
moments before he spoke. "We will continue on our way to Nerik to purchase more cloaked ships so that the Nedwuts will be better equipped to seek out and destroy them.
In the meantime, put out the information that I am donating ten million credits to the Galactic Orphans Fund and reducing the cost of medications from Grekkor
Pharmaceuticals. Oh, and Worell..."
"Sir?"
"That slave ship we were to put those two women on..."
"Yes?"
"Have someone in our fleet track it down and rescue the slaves aboard. Make it look good, and once the slaves are off the ship, blow it up. No survivors please."
"Yes, sir." Worell waited a moment and then asked, "Will there be anything else, sir?"
"No," Grekkor replied. "That should be quite enough." He took another sip of his wine before adding, "Though perhaps we should arrange a reception of some kind on Nerik to announce these new philanthropic policies."
Two servants entered laden with ornate serving trays which they set down on the
table. After carefully inspecting the fare laid out before him, Grekkor nodded a curt dismissal.
"I'll see to it," Worell said, but as he left to implement these new orders, his first thought was that the only difficulty would be in finding anyone to attend the reception.
Perhaps the recently freed slaves could be persuaded...
Chapter 17
The Zetithians with their mates, friends, and children assembled in Ty and Kyra's dining room around the massive stone table. The first thing decided was to eliminate Kyra from the plan. "No offense, Kyra, but you're a piano teacher, not a fighter," Jack had said. "Plus, you've got three babies to take care of."
"But I've still got the rocket launcher that Leroy gave me," Kyra protested. "I know how to use it too."
"Keep it, Kyra," Lerotan advised. "You might need it someday."
And it was also decided that Tychar was too high profile a figure for a covert
operation. "We don't need your teenybopper fans swarming all over the place," Trag said.
"What we really need you for is insurance. If we fail, you can tell your fans that Grekkor is responsible for the plot against us. That'll teach him!"
"We ought to do that right now," Kyra grumbled. "It would be a lot less dangerous."
"True, but exposing the Nedwuts' role in the war hasn't gotten them to stop," Leo pointed out. "If anything, it's made things tougher."
"Yeah, that five-million-credit bounty has got them swarming all over the place,"
Jack agreed. "We've got to stop this at the source."
"Well, if you won't let us go with you, the least we can do is provide the necessary supplies," Tychar said. "Maybe we could get some Darconians to go with you too."
"I'll talk with Queen Zealon and see what we can arrange," Kyra said. "I don't mind telling you the idea of so many Zetithians being in on this has me worried. There are barely enough of you left as it is. The rest of us should do it. Me, Tisana, Jack, and Leroy's crew--Windura too since she needs to clear her name--we aren't on any
endangered species list. There are only seven adult Zetithians that we know of. Granted, you've had quite a few children, but--"
"I understand your reasoning, Kyra, but we cannot allow others to do this for us,"
Cat said quietly. "The time for that has passed. We must do this together to save our race."
"You're forgetting something though, aren't you?" Kyra said. "This plot against Zetithians will die with Grekkor. All you really have to do is outlive him." Seeming to sense a kindred spirit, Hidar's antennae pricked toward Kyra like an alert horse's ears but drooped as she continued. "You only have to stay here or on Earth or Terra Minor until he dies. He won't live forever."
"But he'll come after us," Trag said. "We know too much to be left alive--and do you really want to leave him free to live out his natural life after what he did? I don't, and I don't think the others do either."
"Okay." Kyra sighed. "I had to give it a shot. Just don't get yourself killed trying to be a hero--any of you." She paused as her eyes filled with tears. "I--I can't stand the thought of it."
She may have included the others after the fact, but Kyra had been looking
straight at Trag when she said it, jarring Micayla's memory. She too had been intimate
with Trag, so she knew something of what Kyra was feeling--an attachment she hadn't
felt to him before... almost as though his death would hasten her own. Perhaps Jack felt it too, and knew that having been with both brothers, Kyra would not survive if both men were lost. Kyra must have known this as well, which was why she had suggested the alternate plan. Was the attachment to these men so strong that once you found one, you truly couldn't live without him?
There was something about Trag that affected Micayla very deeply. On a
cognitive level, she wanted to understand it, but on an emotional level, she suspected that she already did. It would be difficult to admit to him that she already wanted him again.
If she had remained with him instead of leaving so abruptly, she had no doubts as to what they would be doing at that moment.
But perhaps she wouldn't have to admit it; perhaps he would just pick up her scent and know. On the other hand, a little encouragement might not be amiss. He had made a point of sitting next to her at the table; perhaps it was her turn now. She could feel his heat and knew that her own body craved his warmth, but it was more than that. There was a bond of some kind between them now--something she'd never felt with anyone. She'd barely spoken to him all through dinner, and now it didn't seem appropriate, but she'd felt comfortable in his presence all the same--as though they'd been together forever...
She turned to find him looking right into her eyes and felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Just looking at him made her feel better--like the first time she saw him--
and he seemed so... familiar now. Perhaps it was only because they'd been intimate, but even though she and Adam had done the deed several times, she had never before felt the way she did now.
Reaching down, she took Trag's hand and squeezed it. A rush of warmth spread
from the point of their contact, and she held back a chuckle of delight when he squeezed back.
"I'm sorry," she said, mouthing the words so no one but Trag would hear.
His eyes softened and she knew she was forgiven--perhaps already had been--and
felt a wave of tingles dance across her skin. She longed for the shelter of his arms and wished that they were anywhere else--someplace removed from all the others where they could revel in each other's scent...
Which was something new to her, but perhaps that was why she could sit beside
him without the need for conversation. She'd been unconsciously breathing him in all through dinner, the distinct and pleasing aroma of him filling her head, and she could only assume that he was doing the same.
***
His decision to sit beside her had been automatic; he hadn't planned it, it was
simply the thing to do. If he'd been across the room from her--or even across the table--he would've missed out on her delicate aroma entirely. As matters stood, there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it, so he decided that his best course of action was simply to
sit back and enjoy it. Leaning closer, he inhaled deeply. The satisfying tingle in his groin confirmed what he already knew: she wanted him. He felt like laughing out loud but managed to keep his amusement to himself.
Not laughing was easy, but it wasn't long before he discovered just how difficult it was to keep not only his feelings, but also his hands--and every other part of him--to himself. She was right there beside him; touching her would be simple, natural--his leg against hers, his hand brushing her arm, perhaps even his arm draped across the back of her chair. It was a possessive gesture in any culture--at least among those creatures that had arms--and though he'd refrained from doing it earlier, he thought perhaps she wouldn't mind it now.
No longer focused on the discussion, time seemed to stop as her scent called out
to him. Trag's cock was smashed against his lower abdomen by his tight underwear; he could feel it beginning to drool and knew that when he stood up, the fact that his mind was elsewhere would be perfectly obvious to anyone. Biting his lip, he continued