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Chapter Seven

The Qaldreth Command Council

Planet of Ivoy

D rafe’s armor unmasked from the waist up, baring his obsidian skin.

At his most vulnerable, he stepped onto the platform.

He raised his gaze to the dais upon which sat seven Qaldreth commanders, the strength of the tribes combined.

All warriors in attendance were bare-chested, for to remain masked was an act of deceit.

An exposed Qaldreth had nothing to hide.

Beams of light bathed them in artificial sunlight. The warmth of their suns upon their faces was craved by all. The yellow glow struck a chord, a yearning for home Drafe’s symbiotes echoed. He tamped them down, willing them to calm.

They would have Qaldreth sunlight soon enough.

He winced. As a protector, an arrak, he had brought honor to the tribe. Across so many parsecs, the symbiotes could not communicate, but once he stepped foot on the salt plains, all would know of his failure…for generations to come.

“Meorri aac Drafe Arrak, you have been brought before the council in the direst of circumstances.” Meorri aac Kish Udap paused, rolling his lips inward as if what he had to do was distasteful.

Drafe didn’t doubt that. Exiling a warrior from the commander’s tribe wasn’t a pleasant task. He said nothing, though, for it was disrespectful to interrupt an udap.

“By the grace of Ivoy and Osnir, you were welcomed as a karu, to train under those who earned their place as protectors.” Kish Udap settled his gaze on Ulvus, and his lip curled further.

Drafe restrained the urge to nod. Despite Ulvus winning the challenge, he had only made the rank of sava, that of security or a foot soldier.

Drafe had surpassed him, having earned the honor to protect, to share his symbiotes with an Ot—the highest rank an Ivoyan could be born to.

Luharp Vadril Ot was from the most influential family on Ivoy.

Drafe had let him die. Along with the other twenty-three prime ots in attendance and their Qaldreth warriors. Had his language implant not malfunctioned, he would have died alongside them. An honorable death he’d been denied. He’d responded by saving the witness, a lowly servant, an uz.

The planet of Ivoy was in chaos, losing its leadership in one strike.

The second rank of zi had to be summoned from their travels and studies.

Some came from far-off galaxies Drafe had yet to learn about.

This upheaval had toppled the Ivoy hierarchy, with the next generation of ots still in training.

Many fingers pointed at the Qaldreth warriors, charged with the protection of the Ivoyan leaders, and failed to do so. It would take decades to restore the tribes’ combined honor on Ivoy and centuries for the Meorri tribe.

Yes, it would have been better had he died with his ot.

“Worse, instead of rushing to save the Luharp Vadril Ot or any high-ranking ot, you rescued Vizen Aehort Uz…a servant.” Grumbles rippled through the council and the witnesses behind him. “What say you, Drafe Arrak?”

Drafe opened his mouth to speak.

“Giniiri aac Nenn Maed claims your language implant failed, explaining your presence outside the Senate.” Borven aac Eran Udap gestured to Nenn to step forward.

Drafe tilted his head to acknowledge the male.

“It is defective, Great Council.” Nenn’s hair tucked in, his shoulders stiff, but he held his chin high. “I offered a temp-device until his could be replaced.”

“Happenstance led you to abandon your ot?” Zuphayr aac Srim Udap tapped his chin, his white hair bobbing. His blue eyes were striking, as were all the Qaldreths from the sky tribe of Zuphayr.

Drafe waited, scanning the council to ensure none would speak.

He didn’t need to add disrespect to his charges.

“I rescued the only witness, Great Council, and yes, my implant did malfunction, causing Luharp Vadril Ot to suffer alongside me. Unable to bear the shared pain, he instructed me to seek medical attention.” Drafe sucked in a deep breath.

“I ensured he was well-guarded, tasking Meorri aac Saha Karu to protect him. Under the circumstances, twenty-two arraks, twenty-three karu, and a dozen sava were sufficient protection against a corpse.”

The council nodded.

“You are wise to mention the protectors, the trainees, and the additional security, Drafe Arrak. Had I been in your situation, I would have acted the same.” Kish Udap’s words stiffened Drafe’s spine.

Agreeing with him made his symbiotes ripple to the surface of his skin, threatening to form his armor to shield him.

“This was an attack none of us foresaw.” Srim Udap scanned the crowd. “An illogical strategy is required. You will share your symbiotes with the uz, Drafe Arrak.”

Gasps rippled across the room. Kish Udap slapped the stone desk, and silence prevailed.

Drafe reeled. To share his symbiotes with an Ivoy was the prerequisite to becoming a protector. The higher the Ivoy’s rank, the more honorable. An uz would bring no honor to his tribe. Drafe would have to guard the uz until the Ivoyan’s death, natural or otherwise.

“The acting Ivoyan leadership has demanded justice be served. You and your uz will travel the galaxy and hunt down the culprits.”

Exiled but not to Qaldreth. Under their vigilance, he could not react. Dishonor, enslavement, and banishment were his punishments. He fought for calm, running an imaginary hand over his symbiotes to soothe them. There was honor to be found on a revenge quest.

“All findings will be reported to me,” Kish Udap continued.

Drafe straightened. “As you command, Kish Udap.”

“You leave as soon as the symbiote transfer is complete, your implant replaced, and a ship fueled.” Eran Udap gestured to the hall. “Choose your crew. Additional security will be provided.”

“Do not take this mission as leniency on our part,” Kish Udap sliced glances at his council members. “Fail this, and dishonor and exile won’t be the worst of your punishment.”

Drafe frowned. This wasn’t exile? Dishonor?

What could be worse than sharing his symbiotes with a servant?

“I thank you for this opportunity, Great Council.” Offering his back to the Q.C.C.

, he scanned the room. “One from each tribe would suffice.” Picking faces he knew were ot-less, he listed them.

“Riermus aac Vaen, Zuphayr aac Gusin, Jeerlud aac Juunn, Borven aac Igar, Giniiri aac Nenn, and Awayar aac Caah.”

Each male jogged to the dais, scowls marring their features. Drafe may have doomed them to a lonely death or exile, but when this quest succeeded, they too would receive the honor.

“So noted,” Srim Udap announced, banging his fist on the desk. The Q.C.C. followed, stating the end of the council.

“You are a lucky male,” Vaen growled. “Not that I thank you for dragging me along.”

“Same.” Juunn scanned the dissipating crowds. His green eyes flashed, and his brown hair rose and fell, revealing his displeasure.

“Is this punishment for making you wait for the temp-device?” Nenn rocked on his heels, a smile teasing his lips.

Drafe chuckled. “You were there, Nenn. I assumed you’d want to see justice done.”

“As Osnir is my witness, Drafe, the killers will pay. To stand aside, let you go off on this mission alone, my children’s children will forever curse my name.” Nenn grasped Drafe’s forearm.

“You believe we can find them?” Vaen arched a golden brow, bright against his brown skin.

“I do.” Drafe raised his chin, showing his determination.

“Yet again, you escape justice.” Ulvus nudged the others aside to glare at Drafe. “You should not have been accepted as a karu then awarded an ot. Now, this.” He growled. “Kreta curse you, Drafe.”

“Ah, Meorri aac Ulvus Sava, it is good I see you wishing Osnir’s blessings upon this journey.” Kish Udap, striding through, parted the males gathered. “For you too shall be tasked to assist Drafe Arrak.”

Ulvus’s cheeks paled, but he offered a nod to Kish Udap as if pleased to be included.

Drafe gritted his teeth when Kish Udap sauntered across the hall and out the building. Lilac sunlight bathed the platform outside, bringing little warmth.

Vaen’s golden eyes faded to brown when he glared at Ulvus. “Foq, I’d prefer to bring all the untrained karu than that idiot.” His tone dipped, his words meant only for Drafe’s ears.

“Same.” Drafe chuckled. “A vasquva would be a more helpful addition.”

Vaen snorted, then slapped Drafe on the shoulder. “Have Nenn see to your implant. I’ll ensure the ship is prepped.” He paused, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “May Osnir bless your symbiote transfer with the uz, Drafe. Let us pray the servant survives it.”

Drafe stilled. Killing another Ivoyan would not be well received.

They… he needed the uz. The male had to remember something about the events leading up to the explosion.

Once Drafe left the hall, he summoned his armor, relishing the excited buzz from his symbiotes.

Trailing Nenn along the wide, ostentatious passages of the Q.C.C.

, he ignored the lilac sunlight creeping through the stained windows.

Gold inlaid the stone walls in intricate patterns—a blurring of the seven tribes’ art and history, with images of a giant vasquva, the kind whispered across generations.

He strolled into a med-tech ward to where Nenn gestured to a chair.

Drafe lowered himself, obedient for now.

Tilting his head, he stared at the instructional signage on the floor-to-wall metal cabinets, not understanding the symbols and not caring to learn.

Nenn sprayed something cold across Drafe’s neck, numbing his skin.

The red-orange-haired male paused to grin at him. “I am excited. To see other stars and species. There is much I can learn.” He leaned closer, dabbed Drafe’s neck, and stepped back, holding a circular temp-device in his palm. “Whore.”

Drafe growled and leaped to his feet.

Nenn threw out a hand. “My apologies, Drafe. That is the only word I know in Ivoy.”

Drafe relaxed his stance. “Then the new nodule works.”

“Good. I assume the uz is awaiting your presence in the transfer chamber?” Nenn arched a brow.

“I assume the same. Until we depart.” Drafe strode out, cupping his neck where the temp-device had been inserted.

Now it was smooth skin if a little numb.

His symbiotes remained silent as if they resented what they had to do.

This was for Meorri, Qaldreth, and Ivoy.

His symbiotes had to comply. Taking the steps into the bowels of the building, he ignored the flickering venai stones casting ripples on the walls.

The artwork was still present, carved into the stone but without the gold inlay.

He burst into the small chamber and slid onto an S-shaped solid stone table alongside the uz sprawled on his own.

The stiff male widened his eyes when he glanced at Drafe.

Compelled to speak, Drafe met his black gaze, hoping to convey a sense of peace. “Have no fear.”

The uz nodded.

“I have explained the process to Vizen Aehort Uz, the opportunity this affords him.” The Jakar’s black markings on his temple stated his role in the priesthood. He pointed at the table with a graceful flick of a finger, the dark gray of his cloak draping his form. “Please extend your arm.”

Between the two tables was a bridge upon which Drafe laid his arm, his gaze fixed on the ceiling studded with venai stones meant to replicate a Qaldreth sky. A glance confirmed the uz had draped his arm parallel to Drafe’s.

A hum started in his core. The sensation was one he had forgotten.

The Jakar raised his arms high and droned a low song.

Light caught the blade a second before he brought it down, slicing across Drafe and the Uz’s forearms. The pain was negligible.

His blood pooled in the small basin at the center of the bridge.

The Ivoy’s blood flowed blue. Drafe was taught, if his symbiotes accepted the Ivoy, they would travel along the blue rivulet and enter through the narrow wound.

Due to his clear blood not being as visible, he had to contend with watching the Ivoy’s blood roll toward him.

When it entered him, he gritted his teeth, fighting the burn. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

The pain thickened and intensified. His mind roared in agony. Curling his fingers into fists, he forced himself to relax. Fighting the intrusion would make it worse.

The uz whimpered but did not twitch a finger.

Unlike Vadril Ot who had screamed like a pregnant hudu.

The Jakar wrapped a strip of garak leather around their wrists, binding them together. He hummed words, lyrical, nonsensical, as the pain ebbed and flowed and time passed on silent feet.

“It is done.” The Jakar’s words snapped Drafe out of his daze.

He swung his legs over the side, the leather strap and thin wound gone.

The uz did the same while stroking his arm. “I feel…different yet the same.”

“Our thoughts and memories will begin to align.” Drafe forced a smile as exhaustion sapped the last of his strength. “Until one of us dies, Aehort Uz.”

The orange male jerked, stared at Drafe, then nodded. “As you say, Drafe Arrak.”