Page 5
Jos met Magda on his way through the corridor to his quarters.
She fell in beside him, her weapon held at the ready, always. Seldom were the Q without at least one weapon. Jos might have been denied his primary blaster during the party, but he still carried a small arsenal hidden within and under his dress blacks, atop the skinsuit frag-armor no respectable Q was without. It wouldn’t protect him from a direct hit, but it did provide some defense against spalling and it diffused all but the highest settings on energy weapons.
Magda, on the other hand, wore a full complement of armor, from the skinsuit out, with her helmet retracted into her torso sheath. “How’s the princess?”
“Is the dal ready to deploy?”
“Touchy.”
He gave her a look.
She capitulated with a smirk. “Five by, Q’Mhel. The dal’s armed and loaded. Cap’n Coppev’s ready on your mark.”
“We’re up as soon as you and I come aboard. Transport up now. I’m right behind you.”
“Roger that.”
Magda stepped abruptly to the side, put her back against a wall, and triggered her transport. A moment later, she disappeared. Jos broke into a jog, silently cursing Layne Bilal’s insistence on him as an escort, which required him to ditch his armor and primary weapons.
At least he’d had some time with Tyelu.
He allowed himself a small smile as he swung into his quarters and suited up, more than pleased with her response to his kiss.
A few minutes later, now geared as a Q-merc should be, he materialized aboard Apedemak , all thoughts of the gorgeous Pruxn? walled off where they wouldn’t distract him. He found Magda on the bridge with Captain Coppev, coordinating a strategy with the other in-system Q-merc teams and any other offense-capable ships.
“Status?” he said.
Magda looked up from the navigational display and the nervous ensign manning it. “The Sweepers’ ships are coming in hard and fast.”
“Too fast,” Gage murmured. The captain tapped a fingertip against a series of points on the nav display, outlining a rough arc. “They’re right on top of us. Best guess? They’re going to swing around Domor and come in on the far side, away from the main planetary defenses.”
“Asteroid blasters, mostly,” Magda said, shaking her head. “When will these lubbers learn?”
“The Domorians are a peaceful society,” Jos reminded her. “They don’t need much of a defense.”
“Except against Sweepers.”
“And they have us.” Gage crossed his arms and tapped one thumb against his lower lip. “They’re aiming for a landing.”
Jos grunted. “Probably. Have the Domorians and the diplomatic units been warned?”
“Yes. They’re taking precautions now.”
Magda stepped back, her eyebrows furrowed. “I hate that we’re stretched so thin. Our primary mission is to guard the Tersii delegation and look pretty for Bilal, not engage in combat with Sweepers.”
Jos clapped her on the shoulder. “Needs must. Do we have a plan?”
“Downloading now and sending to you.” Magda tapped her left ear, then nodded. “Intercept course?”
“Affirmative,” Gage said. “Now get off my bridge so we can get this party started.”
Jos shot him a roguish grin. “Aye aye, captain.”
Gage snorted as he turned back to his duties.
Jos and Magda exited the bridge, crowded against each other in the narrow confines of the passageway. They bumped out of the way for the ship’s crew, and finally stepped into the transport deck where the rest of the dal waited, talking quietly among themselves.
Jos examined each d’ga in turn as their conversations died and they faced him: Zhu, an expert marksman; Emler, their rough and ready tactical specialist, the bonding tattoos of his deceased mate clearly visible above the neck of his armor; Seni, the dal’s medic and the only other female next to Magda; Gav, their communications specialist; and Harak, with his affinity for explosions, sanctioned or not.
Jos had personally assembled this dal when he’d earned his leadership tabs and advanced to the rank of Q’Mhel. It had taken exactly six missions for them to bond into a cohesive unit. An effective one, too. This dal had one of the highest success scores of currently operating dals.
Some credited Jos’s leadership, but he knew the truth. He’d surrounded himself with highly skilled mercs who knew how to put the mission above themselves and work together as a team.
A trait he’d make a point of embracing whenever his thoughts drifted to his beautiful Pruxn?.
“Listen up,” he said. “We’re the tail end of the battle.”
A collective groan rose from the mercs. Gav, ever the smartass, rolled his bright green eyes. “Woo! Cleanup crew! Bring on the mops!”
Seni slid her armored fingers over the hilt of her holstered blaster. “I can kill him this time, right? Just one shot’ll put him right out of his misery.”
“And us,” Harak added.
“No killing today,” Magda said, then muttered under her breath, “Unfortunately.”
Gav shot her a dimpled smile. “You know you love me.”
Jos talked over Magda’s snort of laughter. “Focus now, play later. Looks like the Sweepers are aiming for the far side of the planet.”
Quickly, he outlined enough of the plan for them to have a good grasp of the situation so each one could do what dals did best: act independently to create the best outcome for their client.
Or, in this case, every lubber stranded on the planet below.
When he was finished, they synced their neural implants, falling into silence as they swapped ideas through their dedicated comm system. When they’d nailed down a plan, Jos pushed it to Magda for cleanup and redistribution.
Then they stood at the ready, waiting for the other actors to play their roles.
Tyelu jogged down the hallway toward the conference room where Sigun waited along with the Tersii delegation, Layne Bilal of Q, and a handful of other diplomatic units who’d hired Q-mercs as their security.
Why the Pruxn? had been chosen to guard them had not been revealed to her, though she was sure there was a reason. Possibly because they’d brought more than enough security to go around.
Plus, every Pruxn? learned how to fight from an early age, male and female alike. No one wanted to be bested during the Choosing and risk losing their favored mate to another. They weren’t as fierce as the Q-mercs, but they could hold their own in most situations.
Tyelu’s duties as a Queen’s Guard, one of the fabled Lady Warriors of Banam, had earned her the unenviable job of coordinating the defense of those diplomats, while her cousin Kodh served as a liaison between the Pruxn?’s motley group and the Domorian military command, such as it was.
As she understood it, Domor’s primary defense was a rail cannon used primarily for asteroid deflection.
Kraden lubbers.
A good planetary defense force comprised of good, old-fashioned military ships would’ve nipped the Sweeper problem in the bud. Of course, the in-system Q-mercs could’ve done the same thing if someone had thought of it while the Sweepers’ ships skirted the system.
One of the Q-mercs probably had thought of it. But that would’ve entailed pulling them off planet, away from their primary charges, and the Q were known for honoring their contracts. It was one of the things that made them the dominant military force in the sector, the other being their extraordinary combat skills.
Jos Q’Mhel and his dal being a prime example of exactly how deadly Q-mercs could be.
A tiny thrill shivered down her spine. She stifled it before it could grow beyond her control, then put him, his beautiful green eyes, and his sexy kisses firmly out of her mind.
When she slipped into the conference room, Sigun beckoned her toward the far end where he stood with Luden Moko and Layne Bilal. Tyelu walked over and nodded respectfully to the tyrl and the two diplomats.
“We’ve had word,” Layne said without preamble. “Our Q-mercs are swinging outward to meet the Sweepers before they can reach Domor. I have every confidence they will succeed.”
“Every confidence, yes,” Sigun agreed. “But a little preparation never hurt anyone. I’ve appointed Tyelu to oversee our security. She’s one of our fiercest warriors.”
Layne arched an eyebrow at Tyelu. “A female warrior on a planet where men steal their brides?”
“Aye. She’s the native-born daughter of a kafh and trained with the Queen’s Guard on Zinod.” Sigun’s lined face creased into a mischievous grin. “And she’s one of the most eligible women on Abyw. Her father despairs of finding her a mate she can’t best.”
Tyelu pressed her lips together to keep a snarl off her face. “We should discuss your security arrangements, Tyrl Sigun.”
Layne waved that away. “We have time. The Q’Mhel will see to that. He’s single, too, you know, and quite a catch in his own right. Tell me, Sigun. Would her father be open to a match?”
Sigun opened his mouth, and Tyelu jumped in before he could tell the diplomats exactly how eager her father was for her to settle down. “Security first.”
Ludo coughed into his fist, not quite hiding a smile. “Yes, let’s discuss security. We Tersii aren’t quite as laid back about such situations as our more militaristic neighbors. My poor aide is beside himself with worry.”
“As he should be,” Tyelu countered coolly. “The belnyin—”
“Belnyin?” Layne asked.
“Sweepers, honored lady. They’re a ruthless species. Merciless, often mindless. My own next-brother spent years as a slave on one of their parent ships. He bears the marks of their cruelty to this day.”
“Ryn contracted with my daughter, Ziri,” Ludo said. “They jumped straight into a nest not long after meeting, and again during a cargo run between Tersi and Abyw. I shudder to think what would’ve happened if they hadn’t managed to escape.”
Layne turned a speculative gaze on Tyelu. “As I recall, our Q’Mhel intervened during that cargo run.”
“He did, honored lady,” Tyelu said stiffly, then changed the subject, not caring whether the abrupt shift startled or offended anyone. “Domor’s shielding should prevent person-to-land transporting for anyone possessing the capability, which Sweepers don’t. Our defense will therefore center on protecting against landing parties. Some of the child ships are small enough to evade the Domorian’s rail gun, and they can house as many as fifty to seventy-five fully grown male Sweepers, depending on how many family units are aboard.”
Tyelu didn’t miss the pointed glance shared by Sigun and Layne. She simply chose to ignore it. Her job was security, not acting as a bargaining chip for some diplomatic folderal.
And by Wode, she could secure her own mate.
Quickly, she focused on her briefing, before her irritation over the conversation overruled good sense.
Jos rode out the first part of the battle in the ship’s transport deck, following updates via a detached tablet to save his armor’s power. The nest of Sweepers had been bigger than they’d thought and just as problematic. Several had been disabled before they could hit Domor’s atmosphere, but two smaller ships had slipped from behind Domor’s larger moon, skirted the main force, and angled toward landfall.
Jos set the tablet aside and began a final check of his armor, a silent signal for his dal to do the same. Before he could finish, his comm alerted and Captain Coppev spoke.
“You’re up, Q’Mhel,” Gage said. “Where do you want me to put you?”
“Cargo bay, if you can,” Jos replied. “Otherwise, any large open space. We’ll sort it out from there.”
“Roger that. Transport on your mark.”
Jos glanced at each member of his dal in turn, waited until they’d activated their helmets and given him the thumbs up.
Magda’s helmet closed over her face and locked in, and she slapped Jos on the back with a gloved hand. “Just call us the mops.”
Groans and a few muttered curses sounded over the comm.
Jos shook his head, made sure his own helmet was locked. “We go in as one, we come out as one.”
The d’gas raised a battle cry, and on a sharp exhale Jos said, “Mark.”
The world snapped out of existence and back in again with a dizzying speed. Jos brought his blaster up as he materialized in a cargo bay in the middle of a knot of male Sweepers a good ceg taller than him, so close to two that his armor brushed their skin. He cursed the transport engineer’s daring even as a part of him admired the pinpoint accuracy of the dal’s materialization.
Then the Sweepers realized what was happening and drew back weapons and metal-encased secondary limbs, roaring their unhappiness.
Jos had already elbowed clear and started firing, taking down the three closest to him before they could swing their weapons around. A secondary limb’s tip hit him and bounced away, another attempted to curl around one of his legs. He shot it at the base before it could yank him off his feet, then more Sweepers charged. His training took over and he countered in a well-honed rhythm of defense and offense as the dal moved outward, gradually ending the threat posed by this particular Sweeper nest.
When it was over, he walked among the oozing bodies of Sweepers sprawled throughout the ship, making sure each one was well and truly dead.
Magda jogged over to him, took one look at his armor, and whistled low into the comm. “Took a coupla hits, didn’t you?”
He glanced down and spotted a massive dent above his ribs. As soon as he noticed it, the pain kicked in and he hissed out a curse aimed at whatever Sweeper had managed to sneak one of those metal-tipped secondary limbs under his guard. No, wait. One had kicked him with a tree-like leg, knocking him halfway across the bay. That would account for the dent anyway.
He rolled his shoulders, winced at a twinge under the dent. “Good thing I brought a spare kit.”
“Good thing,” Magda agreed mildly. “Status report says you’re bleeding.”
“Am not,” he said, then he glanced at the status report and cursed again. His skin was punctured and already bruising, and one of his ribs had a hairline fracture. He noted the measures his med system and armor had already taken and said, “Tis but a scratch. Any other injuries?”
Magda shook her head. “Coupla bruises. Some dented armor. Seni’s comm’s down. Emler thinks it’s an easy fix. Gav’s getting a headcount of the dead for posterity’s sake.”
“Where’s Harak?”
She grinned. “Trying to find something to blow up.”
Jos grunted. “Call the captain and have him send a pilot over. Ship’s still in good shape. Good salvage for the Domorians. Try not to let Harak blow a hole in the hull.”
“Party pooper,” she said, and put her back to the bay’s surprisingly clean metal wall.
Jos did a visual check of his dal, then headed toward where Emler and Seni huddled, likely trying to repair her comm. As he walked, he checked the situation with the rest of the fleet, such as it was, and allowed himself a single moment to remember the kiss he’d shared with the fierce Pruxn? waiting for him planetside.
His comm chirped and Magda said, “Benar Q’Mhel’s dal needs help on another ship. Seems it was marked as a child ship and it ain’t.”
Jos sighed. So much for another kiss from his prickly princess. “Emler, status on Seni’s comms.”
Emler glanced around and gave Jos the thumbs up as Seni patted her ear and mirrored the other d’ga’s a-ok.
By the time the dal was ready to transport, the pain in Jos’s side had numbed to a dull throb thanks to a fresh influx of painkillers, and all thoughts of Tyelu had been carefully tucked away.
Tyelu allowed her duties to consume her attention for the duration of the Sweepers’ attack. At Sigun’s request, available vid feed of the battle was displayed on one wall of the most secure room Tyelu could find. She’d posted guards outside and stationed herself and three other highly trained Pruxn? inside the room with the diplomats, as a measure of last resort.
The Q delegate lounged in a chair facing the feed, sipping a cocktail as the battle played out. Luden Moko and his aide appeared less sanguine as they fidgeted in their own chairs and spoke quietly with the Opalite envoy, who’d opted to join them rather than attempting to flee the system as some diplomatic details had done.
Tyelu thought them fools for trying. Better to mount a defense here and hope the Sweepers landed elsewhere than to meet them in space, their natural environment, where the advantage was theirs.
Sigun wandered over to Tyelu’s station by the sole entrance, his gaze on Bilal. “She seems completely unconcerned over the outcome.”
Tyelu shrugged one shoulder. “Our combined defense is doing well.”
“Nothing’s landed yet anyway.” He folded his hands behind his back, mimicking Tyelu’s stance, and rocked back on his heels. “The final days of this season’s Choosing are close at hand.”
She shot him a sharp glance. “So?”
“The Q’Mhel would make a good mate.”
“That again,” she said flatly.
“There’s still time. Ah.” Sigun tapped his ear-comm. “Kodh says the Q-mercs have been transported aboard Sweeper ships.”
Nerves fluttered in Tyelu’s stomach. She refused to acknowledge them. “We’re safe enough here.”
“I’ve known you too long to be fooled by your demeanor. You’re worried about him.”
Tyelu gritted her teeth together. “I’m worried about Sweepers landing.”
“Bilal was right. It won’t get that far.” Sigun lifted his hand to the vid feed and the battle playing out overhead. “Your Q’Mhel will see to that.”
“He’s not—”
“Tyelu.”
She pressed her lips together, containing a hot retort, and was relieved when Layne turned and beckoned Sigun over, effectively postponing, if not ending, the conversation.
Later, when it became clear that the Sweeper threat had been averted, Tyelu assigned two guards to escort each diplomatic unit to their respective quarters. She took the Tersii contingent not out of cowardice but fatigue: if Sigun or Bilal pushed her about Jos, Tyelu feared what might pop out of her mouth in an unguarded moment.
When she at last settled into her own quarters, she stripped down and showered, and fell into bed and a deep sleep.
She woke abruptly, automatically coming to alertness as she scanned her surroundings without moving. Light from Domor’s twin moons streamed through the window she’d been too tired to shade, giving her a clear, near-daylight view of her room. No shadows shifted at the edges of the room, no figures were illuminated in the moonglow.
A footstep fell in the living room, then an armored man stepped into the moonlight carrying the stench of mechanical oil and Sweepers.
She put a hand to her nose and sat up, grimacing. “You could’ve washed that stink off before popping in.”
Jos’s helmet retracted, and he glanced down at his body. “I came straight here.”
That nervous fluttering started again, joined by twists of emotion Tyelu couldn’t name. “You’re ok?”
He grinned and eased a step closer. “Worried about me?”
She snorted. “Hardly. Why are you here?”
“You know why.”
He took another step toward her, and she held up her free hand. “Stop right there, merc. You’re not getting that Sweeper stink all over me.”
“Help me get my armor off and we won’t have to worry about it.”
“Not for all the vud on Abyw.”
“What about for a kiss?”
She sucked in a short breath. Oh, now, that was tempting, though she’d crawl naked and unarmed through Zinod’s jungles before she showed him how much. “Dream on, spacer. Now go away. I have watch in a few hours.”
“You’re a hard woman, Tyelu.”
“Yes,” she said as she settled back on her bed. “I am.”
He laughed and his helmet slid over his head. “I’m going to enjoy catching you.”
He winked out of sight, and she closed her eyes and murmured, “Not if I catch you first.”