Chapter 14

Rohn:

The usual figures were situated in the warlord’s ready room. Rohn nodded to Kalen. He needed to speak with the medic.

Jaxar motioned to the empty seat next to him, so obviously Rohn had to take the empty spot next to Mylomon, who rolled his eyes. “The flirting between you two is distracting. Get a room,” Mylomon muttered.

“Jaxar is my sworn nemesis,” Rohn said. Not entirely true. He liked the male well enough but decided to avoid him for the time being. Jaxar’s eyes shone bright, no doubt with unanswered questions about what he overheard in medical. Now was not the time to discuss such matters with the male. Perhaps never would be the time.

“I like to think of us as frenemies,” Jaxar helpfully supplied.

Idle chatter ceased as the warlord entered the room. Paax’s broken horn had partially regrown and the white that threaded through his hair at the temples surprised Rohn. The warlord was twenty years younger than him but looked tired. The burden of being warlord weighed on him. Not that Paax was an inadequate warlord. He had been exactly what the ailing clan needed and spent his considerable energy rebuilding what Omas had nearly destroyed. Many, including the Sangrin council, questioned him and thought him too cerebral for leadership.

Rohn did not envy the male and felt pangs of sympathy, knowing the warlord had his mate and two sons to consider as well as the wellbeing of the entire clan.

He ran a hand up the back of his head. Iron gray more than threaded through his own hair, he knew. He was at the age when most males considered retiring, but he had not entertained the notion. He planned to serve until his body failed. Honorable death during combat seemed a fitting end—until Nakia.

His mate reminded him that he might have gray in his hair, but he still had strength and decades of life yet. He wanted to spend those years with Nakia. Children only made that vision sweeter. Suddenly, being confined on a ship, even one as massive as the Judgment, seemed suffocating.

Paax slapped the table, his hand landing just to the right of Rohn. “Are you done daydreaming?” the warlord asked.

“Thinking about his mate. You can tell by the silly grin,” Jaxar said.

“Do not speak about my mate,” Rohn said.

“Yes, yes. Don’t look at her. Don’t speak to her,” the insufferable male said, reciting all the restrictions Rohn had given him. “Don’t breathe the same air as her.”

Rohn hadn’t said the last one but it wasn’t a bad idea.

“Enough,” Mylomon said, his deep voice echoing in the room without shouting.

Spooky bastard.

Paax pressed buttons on the table’s command panel and a holographic map of the section hovered above the polished glass surface. “We received a distress call from moon of Vel Mori.”

Rohn knew the approximate location of the small mining colony, on the edge of the Sangrin system but within the territory monitored by the Judgment.

“The colony reported a Suhlik raid at their largest population center. Approximately one thousand of the civilians fled to the mines, with limited food and water. Others are holed up in the city. They are in urgent need of medical aid.” Red dots appeared on the map, indicating raid location. “The Sangrin Council has ordered the Judgment not to respond. They would rather Antomas provide assistance,” Paax said.

Noises of surprise filled the room. The council’s order made no sense. The purpose of the Judgment was to patrol and protect the system. Its size made it slow but also made it ideal to respond to such situations. The clan had the warriors and the resources to help the mining colony.

“That makes no sense,” Seeran, the head of security, said. “Antomas’s clan cannot evacuate a colony or provide medical support.”

“They can get there faster and win accolades for being the first on the scene,” Mylomon said. “But they’d be sitting with their thumbs up their asses, not actually able to do a thing.”

“Which is why the Council is wrong. We’re going to Vel Mori,” Paax said.

It was the correct action, the honorable action. The Council’s order to ignore the distress doomed the colony. Antomas’s clan did not have the capability to turn back a full Suhlik raiding party or provided the aid the survivors desperately needed. People would die. Horribly.

Rohn said as much, as did Jaxar. He shot the male a withering glare. “Do not agree with me just to be on my good side.”

Jaxar huffed. “I wouldn’t agree with you if you told me rain was wet in the middle of a storm. Assisting Vel Mori is the honorable thing to do.”

Mylomon leaned forward. “Defying a direct order from the Council is not without its risks. This will give Antomas the opening he needs to challenge you.”

The room stilled, all eyes on their warlord. For all his problems, Paax had proved himself a good leader for the clan. Antomas was young and hotheaded, all ego and ambition. A male like that would drive the clan to ruin and claim it a victory.

“Good,” Paax said. “I am tired of the Council meddling in clan affairs. They want a pet warlord they can control and have promised Antomas my clan. They planted traitors in my clan. It is time they learned that Council merely advises a warlord, not dictates.”

“The situation is more delicate than that,” Mylomon said. “They will send an enforcer if you do not tread carefully.”

Paax planted both hands on the table and leaned forward, as if to study the map. No one wanted the Council to send their enforcer, who was little more than an assassin. The enforcer would remove the warlord, often with a knife in the back and not through a challenge, as was honorable, and install a puppet.

“The Judgment will respond to this distress call. We must arrive in time to protect the colony, which agrees with Mahdfel instincts. Protect families, destroy Suhlik. If the Council sees a problem with that, I’ll welcome the challenge.” Exhaustion lined the warlord’s face, his decision weighing heavily on him. Defying the Council’s orders was inviting a challenge from Antomas. Soon, Paax needed to fight for his life and his clan. Why not retire and spend the rest of his days with his mate and sons?

Clarity struck Rohn like an asteroid shredding the hull of a ship. He needed to retire.

“How soon can the Judgment arrive?”

“It’s not a long journey. Three days at maximum speed,” Jaxar said.

“Not soon enough. Those people need us yesterday,” Paax said.

“We can muster fighters now for air support and take the pressure off the raids,” Rohn said.

“How quickly for the fighters to arrive?”

“Five hours once they launch.” Fortunately, the smaller fighter ships were fast, much faster than the lumbering battlecruiser.

“We have the capacity to ship out supplies, medical support, and warriors with the shuttles,” Rohn added, already calculating how quickly the ships could fly and their capacity. He was going to spend the next long while on the flight deck, coordinating launches.

“It’s not nearly enough for the population of Vel Mori, but we could establish a field hospital and send the most critical back to Judgment,” Kalen said.

“Do it.” Paax turned to Jaxar. “The survivors will need shield generators.”

“And habitats.” The engineer made notes on his tablet. “I’ll have a team ready to go and build everything the survivors need, including the good medic’s hospital.”

“I’ll have a squad ready to deploy in an hour,” Mylomon said.

Paax nodded. “Take the young and those without mates. We need to protect the ship.”

“I’ll raise the ship’s threat level. Security teams will not leave our mates and young unprotected,” Seeran said.

“Good. All other warriors should prepare for battle in three days,” Paax said, dismissing them with a wave.

As the males left the room, Rohn caught Kalen by the arm. “Unhand me,” the medic said.

“I must apologize,” Rohn said.

“Do so from an appropriate distance.”

His eyes narrowed in irritation. He needed to apologize but the medic was not making it easy. “My behavior was unacceptable. You have my word it will not happen again.”

The medic squared his shoulders, as if he mentally prepared to deliver a lecture to Rohn, then he waved his hand. “We do not have time for this posturing. Do not act like a fool in my medical bay or I will not hesitate to sedate you again. Yes?”

“That is how you accept an apology?”

“From idiots, yes.”

Jaxar stood by, waiting for Rohn to finish his conversation with the medic. “Do you have an apology for me?”

“Yes, but I do not have the time.” They had much to discuss. “I will find you when I have a break in my schedule.”

“I have much to accomplish in little time,” he agreed. The next few days would be constant work for them both.

Nakia:

Something was up. The atmosphere on the ship changed from the normal everyone’s-just-trying-to-do-their-job feel to a holiday atmosphere. The warriors smiled and joked, their laughter ringing down the halls. Normally sedate and serious, excitement animated them. Nakia would have believed it was a Mahdfel holiday except that the women wore expressions of utter distress.

Rohn sent a short message that he would miss dinner. He didn’t come home that night, nor was he there for dinner the next evening.

Nakia drummed her fingers on the table. That afternoon in the cafeteria, she saw a woman burst into tears and fling her arms around a distraught male, presumably her mate. Something was going on and she didn’t appreciate Rohn keeping her in the dark or avoiding her to avoid giving her bad news.

They had to be heading into a battle. The notion that Rohn didn’t tell her but vanished for two days, presumably preparing, did not make her happy. Did he think that keeping her in the dark would stop her from worrying? Because it so did not work that way.

Fuck it. They weren’t in battle yet and dinner was getting cold. The male still had to eat.

She packed up the meal and filled a thermos of coffee.

The flight deck hummed with activity. Ships rolled across the floor, preparing to launch. Mechanics crawled over and under machines, performing necessary maintenance. Warriors loaded cargo into shuttles. She recognized a medic, standing in the midst of cargo containers, but did not see any red-haired human women, which warmed her jealous little heart.

God, her pettiness surprised even herself. She never suspected herself to be a jealous person but here she was, hating on a stranger who worked with her husband. That wasn’t like Nakia at all. She hadn’t found it in her to hate the secretary Tim had the affair with and she didn’t like this undiscovered aspect of her personality.

“Nakia!” Merrek jogged up to her, a concerned look on his face. “Are you well? You should not be here. It is dangerous.”

“I brought Rohn some dinner. Where is he?” The flight deck was hectic, she could see that, but she didn’t think it as dangerous if she stood on the sidelines.

“Return to your quarters and I will tell him you wish to speak to him.” Merrek folded his arms over his chest, as if that was that.

Seriously, Merrek was trying to be a hard-ass and send her home like a truant child? So not happening. She could dig her heels in and fight or do like her mom always said and catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

“I have cookies.” She set the bag down and fished out the container.

“Cookies?” The stern expression vanished, replaced with greedy hunger.

She opened the lid, fanning the scent of sugar and butter in his direction. “Homemade sugar cookies. Still warm.”

He drooled, just a bit, at the corner of his mouth.

“It’d be a shame to bring this back to my quarters. If only there was someone here who appreciated fresh, warm cookies…”

“I appreciate those things.” He reached for the container.

She yanked it back, cradling it to her chest. “Rohn first. Then you get a cookie.”

He tossed his head back and barked with laughter. “Ha! Yes, we will do it your way, cunning female. Stay here. I will fetch your mate.”

The scent of cookies drew in other males, all eager to make her acquaintance and grab a treat. When Merrek returned with Rohn in tow, a crowd had gathered around her.

“Get back. Do not eat my cookies,” Merrek said, pushing his way in. His smile vanished when he saw the near empty container.

“I saved you one,” Nakia said, handing him the promised reward. His smile returned, bright and without worry.

“And me?” The crowd cleared a space around Rohn, the grown Mahdfel warriors shoving the last bit of cookies into their mouths like guilty children. If she had to guess his mood, she’d say grumpy gray wolf.

“I’ve always got sugar for you, babe.” She stretched up on her toes and gave him a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“You should not be here,” he said.

Oh, he was in a stubborn gray wolf mood. So be it.

“No, you should not be here. You missed dinner.”

"I am the flight deck manager," he said, as if that explained everything.

"Exactly, the manager. Meaning you have subordinates. Let them subordinate and you take a break.”

"They require guidance."

"So, you're telling me that your staff did not earn their positions and they're completely unqualified?" she asked.

His back went up. "My males are the best pilots in the Mahdfel fleet."

"But they couldn't find their butts without you?"

He frowned. "Finding their butts has nothing to do with it—and I do not want you thinking of the butts of other males. My butt is all you need."

The crowd had completely scattered. Rohn and Nakia were otherwise alone.

She stretched up on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss in his chin. "Your butt is exceptional, but that's not what I mean, and you know it. You need to delegate. Everyone works a shift except you. Delegate and spend time with your mate. I brought you dinner and coffee.”

He made a grumbling noise and Nakia honestly didn’t know if it was his stomach or not. “I suppose I must eat to maintain my strength,” he admitted.

They laid out the meal in a loft space above the flight deck. The glass wall offered a birds-eye view of the activity below, perfect for the boss.

“Is this your office?” She poured out coffee into mugs, taking hers black with no sugar.

“Yes. Despite what people say about pilots sitting on our butts all day, I have little opportunity to sit.”

“Well, tell me more about what your butt does when it’s not sitting.” She ate at a leisurely pace while Rohn wolfed down his food. He noticed her eyeing his lack of manners and blushed, the base of his horns growing dark.

“I’m interested in what you do,” she said, encouraging him to talk. She also wanted to know what was going on but had a feeling that if she just asked, she’d get bland reassurances that nothing was amiss.

He launched into a list of his responsibilities and the tasks he assigned to his crew. Some were more competent than others. Kheon was a skilled pilot but lacked confidence, which made him a poor choice in high-stress situations. Vox had too much confidence and exceptional skill, which made him annoying. Merrek was too eager to please but improvised well when presented with unexpected variables.

Eventually he admitted that the clan received a distress call from a mining colony. As it would take the Judgment another day to reach the colony, the fighter starships and shuttles with supplies needed to launch as quickly as possible. His crew worked under a tight deadline, knowing that every moment they delayed meant lives lost.

“What happens when we reach the colony?” Nakia set her fork down, no longer hungry.

“The Judgment will remain in orbit and deploy warriors to the surface.”

“So, you’re expecting a battle?”

He scratched the base of his horn. “I suppose the Suhlik raiders may have left the system already, but it is unlikely. They have a single-minded focus on their goal.”

But what were the Suhlik’s goals? They didn’t exactly send a press release before launching an attack. They never negotiated or issued demands. At least that was the pattern on Earth. They arrived, they fucked shit up, and then they left but only because the Mahdfel made them.

She had to assume their behavior would be the same on any planet and conflict would happen when the Judgment arrived.

“What happens when the fighting starts?”

“I will remain with you,” he said, reaching for her hand. “The Judgment has an advanced weapons array and will use it to push back the Suhlik fleet. A security detail will remain onboard to protect the females and young.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

His thumb brushed the back of her hand. “Nothing will take me from your side. You will not be alone.”

That was sweet, and she wanted to believe him, despite him working two solid days. “How long until it starts?”

“We arrive in twenty hours.” He checked his tablet computer to verify the time.

“Were you planning on getting some sleep?”

“Yes. A warrior should not neglect his physical needs before a battle.”

A cot sat at the back of the room. The rumpled blanket testified to recent use.

“Okay, then I’m going to wait here. When you get a break, we’ll nap together,” she said.

“You need to return to our quarters.”

And wait with nothing to do but worry? Not happening. Plus, she had a strong suspicion that if she did not cajole Rohn into lying down with her, he’d run himself ragged.

“Lie down with me, just for a little bit. You need to rest and not neglect your physical needs. I’ll go wherever you want me when the fighting starts.”

He growled but she couldn’t tell if it was his turned-on growl or annoyed growl.

“I do not like it when you use my words against me,” he said.

Annoyed growl then.

“Lawyer. It’s like my superpower.” She stretched out on the cot and patted the space next to her. “There’s room for both of us if we cuddle.”

“Female—”

She prepared another argument—because again, lawyer, it’s her superpower— but knew she won when he toed off his boots.