"Aw, I can handle Veluka," Jack said with an impatient gesture. "He's always come through for me."
"Like those tracking nanobots he sold you on Barada Seven," Leo snickered.
"They didn't function for more than a week."
"Got us through a tight spot, though, didn't they?" Jack countered.
"Yes, but we couldn't track the Nedwuts with them afterward," Leo pointed out.
"Yeah, that would have been nice," Jack agreed. "I'd have stuck a whole lot closer to Klarkunk if I'd had a cloaking device myself. Maybe I should look into getting one."
"If we ever catch Grekkor," Tisana said quietly, "you won't need it."
"Good point," Jack conceded. "Well, if we need stealth, Veluka can handle that part. And if we need firepower, we've got Leroy--better tell him where we are, Larry, and find out where he's headed--and for sheer guts and determination, we've got Zetithians."
She just hoped it would be enough.
***
"I've been running continuous sensor sweeps," Trag reported. "Nothing yet."
"Well, maybe it's time we looped back around and headed the other direction."
"Back to the station?"
"Not exactly," Lerotan replied. "If Jack has received our hail, she'll be headed this way. I'd bet my life on it. We need to find out where she is and meet her somewhere."
"Last I heard, Jack was in the alpha portion of sector six," Trag said, consulting his charts. "If we loop around we could meet her on Darconia, which is near the outer rim of sector nine. We're three sectors in the other direction, and it's not on a direct route, but at least we know Darconia is safe."
"Sounds good," Lerotan said. "Make it so."
Trag rolled his eyes. "You've been watching some of Jack's old movies, haven't you?"
Lerotan shrugged. "Got nothing better to do." Standing up, he gave his leather tunic a tug at the hem. "Almost got that Picard maneuver down too."
"Jack will be thrilled," Trag said dryly.
"Ha, ha," said Lerotan. "Rodan, send out another hail to Jack telling her to meet us on Darconia. Trag, you plot the course and then get some sleep. We can set the sensors to sound the alarm if anything shows up."
"I don't trust that system," Trag grumbled.
"Yes, but I don't trust you when you haven't slept. Makes you cranky and your eyes get all fuzzy." Lerotan paused a moment before adding, "I'm going to bed too.
Hidar, you have the con."
"But I have not slept either," Hidar complained, clicking his mandibles in protest.
"Yes, but since you're sharing quarters with Rodan, you two will need to sleep on
opposite shifts--and besides, bugs like you don't need that much sleep."
"I will die a painful death," Hidar mourned. "Lack of sleep, no proper food--"
"Bitch, bitch, bitch..."
"No females--"
"My quarters are next to the women," Lerotan warned. "I'll hear them if they start yelling."
"Never get to fuck or cook again. Why do I go on living?"
"Because you've got a two hundred year life span?" Trag suggested.
"That might be it," Hidar admitted. Spreading his wings over the back of the command station, he slumped down in Lerotan's chair, his feathery antennae drooping down over his eyes. "Only a hundred and twenty-five left to go."
Trag went to bed as ordered but the image of Micayla hissing like a demon cat
kept him awake--her high cheekbones; straight, aristocratic nose; sensuous lips that should have smiled at him but had snarled; and rich brown hair he could get lost in forever.
"Why couldn't she at least have had blue eyes like the damned Davordians?" he grumbled, punching his pillow. "I could have stood it, then--no problem at all--but noooo! She had to have fabulous, dark, sexy eyes! I wouldn't give a shit if it weren't for--
no, scratch that, I don't give a shit, anyway. Don't want her and don't want her to want me--not that she ever will. Go right ahead, sweetheart, hiss away." He told himself he didn't mind, but he also knew that Leroy would probably give him hell about it forever--
and so would Jack. He finally fell asleep while trying to decide which was worse.
***
from Micayla the next morning was nearly Trag's undoing. He was trying to avoid
looking at her, but he was picking up the scent of feminine desire from someone; he wasn't sure which of the women it was. Windura seemed quite friendly--not gorgeous or anything--just a regular girl who could probably get along with the devil himself, but Micayla was as cold as the far reaches of space. His only consolation was that she'd managed to say "Good morning" without hissing at him.
Hidar had gone off to bed after working the night shift, leaving Trag to prepare
the meal, and so far, no one was complaining. Not praising him to the skies, precisely, but at least they were eating it. Windura had even thanked him.
Windura, who was now smiling at him over her coffee cup. It had to be her.
Getting too friendly with a shipmate was probably a bad idea, but when she offered to clean up, he got a big whiff as she came around the table to take his plate. Generally speaking, Vessonian women had never been among his favorites, but she was nice--and funny too. Of course, having heard about Zetithian men from Layha, she was bound to be interested. He knew he should have tried to ignore her scent, but it was making his dick hard.
Thankful that his nose wasn't nearly as good as that of his friend Manx--who only had to be downwind of a receptive female to get it up--and that his current style of dress camouflaged his reaction, Trag went off to his station. Performing another manual sensor sweep, he still didn't pick up on anything, which was odd. Still, they had a good head
start and Lerotan's ship was one of the fastest he knew of--only Jack's ship was faster--
having been modified by some Delfian mechanics who knew a few things most others
didn't. Apparently their loop back toward Darconia was a move that Grekkor hadn't anticipated either. Trag chuckled to himself thinking that anyone following their last known trajectory was bound to be getting pissed by now.
Later on, Windura brought him a cup of coffee at his station. Her scent was softer now--not enough to evoke a response--but it was still there. She liked him, all right, and when she squeezed his shoulder just before she took her seat at the tech station, he was sure of it.
***
she'd just met the day before, and she wasn't afraid to get friendly with him either. Not that she was being as friendly with Rodan--after all, who would want to be?--but she did speak to him, whereas Micayla was reluctant to open her mouth for fear that Rodan would start harassing her again. Trag, on the other hand, seemed to be very likable, and Windura wasn't being flirtatious either. She'd gone after her own coffee and had brought some back for Trag. Just a simple, friendly gesture, but the way he smiled at her...
It wasn't the first time Micayla had ever considered having a closer relationship with a man, but so much more seemed to be riding on it now. Maybe it was just because he was a fellow Zetithian, which was also odd; she'd never had that much in common with anyone before.
Lerotan's voice startled her out of her thoughts. "Guess we ought to let Wazak know we're coming. Micayla, send out a hail to Darconia, and ask if Tychar is there while you're at it."
"Be great if Ty was there," Trag said wistfully. "Haven't seen him in ages."
"We're going to see him?" Windura gasped. "Really? I can't believe--"
Her excitement was cut short by an exasperated grumble from Trag.
"Sorry, Trag," she said meekly. "Don't know what came over me."
Trag laughed it off, but Micayla suspected that living in the shadow of a famous
sibling bothered him more than he let on. Micayla could imagine it would be difficult, although she certainly didn't know from personal experience. Her stepmother, Rulie, had never married, and though Micayla suspected that it had something to do with her alien stepchild, Rulie had never admitted to wanting a husband--or other children.
"I have you to love," she often told Micayla. "I don't need anyone else."
Statements like that had made Micayla think long and hard before leaving Earth
behind, but Rulie understood. "Your destiny awaits you," she had said the day Micayla left for her first post. "Don't waste the opportunity."
She'd never said specifically, but Micayla wondered if Rulie had known that the
day would come when she would begin to seek the answers to the questions of her past.
Now many of those questions had been answered, but Micayla still didn't understand much about her own personal makeup. Was it common for Zetithian women to feel so
little desire for men? And if so, what was the reason for it?
She continued to ponder this while preparing the hail to Darconia, and sent it off with the hope that she would find someone--anyone--who could help her understand
more.
Micayla had just sent the hail when the ship gave a sudden lurch, nearly throwing her out of her seat.
"What the hell was that?" Lerotan demanded.
"Nothing on the sensors," Trag yelled as the ship took another hit. "The fuckers must have a cloaked ship!"
"And a damned fast one too," Lerotan added. "Rodan, fire anything you've got in the direction that pulse blast came from!"
"Already on it!" Rodan shouted.
The third round blew out half the lights and sent Micayla sprawling onto the deck with Trag on top of her. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and she pushed against him, gasping for air.
"Don't you dare hiss at me," Trag warned as he rolled away. "I'm really not in the mood!" Scrambling to his feet, he returned to his post and waited until Rodan had fired the pulse cannons before sending the ship on an evasive maneuver, muttering, "Nobody has ever caught us with this gambit; this better not be the time they do."
"Keep firing aft, Rodan!" Lerotan ordered. "Don't stop until something explodes."
Micayla clambered into to her seat, barely able to breathe as her console began
flashing. "It's a hail!" she gasped.
"I don't want to talk to them!" Lerotan yelled.
Another pulse blast rocked their vessel and Micayla's arm hit the receiver control.
The viewscreen flickered to life with the image of a snarling wolf-like creature staring at them.
"Prepare to surrender your vessel and be boarded!" he said. "We are only seeking your passengers."
"We don't have passengers!" Lerotan growled. "Only crew!"
Glancing at Windura, Micayla shook her head, feeling completely confused. It
wasn't Grekkor. It was someone else entirely.
Lerotan obviously knew something about him, though, because he snarled: "No
Nedwut ever will board my ship."
"Then we will destroy it," the Nedwut said.
"Like hell you will," Lerotan shot back, but the viewscreen went blank as Rodan fired another round. Trag was still engaged in evasive maneuvers that, coming on top of getting the wind knocked out of her, were making Micayla want to throw up, but at least the blasts weren't hitting them anymore. If nothing else, she had to admit that Trag was a darn good pilot.
It was all Micayla could do to hang on to her station--let alone her breakfast--
when Trag finally let out a shout of triumph. "You got him!" he crowed as he set the ship on a straight but divergent course.
"Great shot, Rodan!" Lerotan said with a grin as the shock wave buffeted the ship.
"You don't suppose Grekkor was on that ship, do you?" Micayla said hopefully.
"I doubt it," Windura commented. "He doesn't strike me as the type to do his own dirty work."
"What I'm wondering is where that last blast came from," Rodan said, scratching his shiny bald head.
"You mean you didn't fire it?" Lerotan demanded.
"That's exactly what I mean," Rodan replied. "Unless it was a delayed reaction."
"Hmm," said Lerotan. "Perhaps we have a friend out there somewhere."
"If we do, they're cloaked too," Trag reported. "Because according to my sensors, there's nothing out there but debris."
"And since when do Nedwuts have cloaking technology on their ships, anyway?"
Rodan said, shaking his head. "I never heard of that."
"Makes keeping Zetithians alive a bit more difficult," Lerotan said grimly.
"Sorry to be so much trouble," Trag grumbled. "Guess I'll just go jump in an escape pod and eliminate the problem."
Lerotan rolled his eyes. "Forget it, Trag. We need you. And besides, you aren't the only Zetithian on board anymore."
"No way am I sharing a pod with her," Trag said, pulling his cloak around his shoulders. "It's cold enough in space as it is."
***
off. Jack would really owe him now.
Chapter 8
"Hmm, Darconia, huh?" Jack mused as she read the deep space missive Larry had just given her. "Been needing to go there anyway. It took some doing, but I finally found that video I promised Dragus."
"A video for Dragus?" Cat drawled. "I cannot imagine what that would be."
"It's not that kind of video," she said with a quelling glance. "Dragus has more things on his mind than you might think."
"You astonish me," Cat said dryly. "I cannot recall anything being on his mind but--"
"Not in front of the children," Jack cautioned.
"Aw, Mom!" Larry complained. "We know all about Dragus."
"Yeah, he's that guard who's got the hots for Earth women," Moe said.
"Who told you that?" Jack demanded.
Moe looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Dragus," he replied. "Who'd you think?"
Jack shook her head ruefully. "The things you kids have been exposed to! Maybe I should have left you on Earth to be raised by my parents."
"Yeah, right," Larry chuckled. "No way would Grandma ever be able to put up with us."