Usually, such an invitation would have thrilled Ilid. Ved was his favorite bedmate on the spyship, the sexiest crewman on board, in his opinion.

  This time, a chill ran down his spine. Ved’s gaze remained as flat as his voice, and Ilid thought about conjuring an excuse of why he wasn’t available.

  He was being ridiculous. What kind of Dramok was weirded out by a bored and tired Nobek? He grinned widely at Ved. “Tonight would be great.”

  “My quarters at the end of your shift then?”

  “Sure. I’ll be there.”

  Ved left him still wearing a half-smile. Had he ever seen him smile that way?

  Enough. It’s too soon to go space crazy.

  * * * *

  Galactic Council of Planets transport

  The inspection team from the Galactic Council of Planets sat in a conference room aboard a Kalquorian-designed cruiser, speeding to its home berth on Jedver, the hub planet of the council.

  They were of a smattering of multiple races, seven of the two hundred belonging to the GC. They ringed the table, gazing across its smooth light green surface at each other.

  Only Nezlo, the Alneusian commander of the inspection team, stood…or rather, floated. Their environmental exosuit was filled with the water of their home sea on Alneusia. The suit possessed a humanoid shape and could move as a bipedal entity, thanks to its robotic chassis. Their bulbous eyes filled most of the bubble headpiece.

  It was an excellent suit, impervious to most shocks and attacks. Had the Alneusian been exposed to the air their fellows thrived in, they would have died in seconds, but the suit was made to withstand a large number of threats to its inhabitant.

  It wasn’t made to keep out an entity phased partially from another dimension, however.

  The Alneusian spoke their native language, and the earpieces worn by their fellow inspectors’ translated. They answered in their own speech. What they said would have been typical of any debriefing after an inspection of Bi’is, nothing anyone who stepped into the room would have been surprised to hear. The yeomen who occasionally entered to ensure everyone had what they needed for their meeting found little amiss.

  One or two did a doubletake when they glimpsed something odd at the periphery of their view. A Bezcux yeoman swung around on its six legs to appraise with swaying stalk eyes the Plasian inspector, certain it had spotted a dark, bulbous shape hanging on the Plasian’s neck and back. A young orange-furred Joshadan chirped surprise at the inspector from Cimyo, then hunched and uttered an apologetic trill when she was given a questioning glance.

  Tricks of the light, the Bezcux and Joshadan both thought in the bare seconds before they too were mounted and their minds seized.

  Beneath the drone of the debriefing, a second conversation took place, unheard by ears or translators. It was as intense as the meeting’s official transcript was dull.

  Two hundred species, but only one appears to possess the ability to invade our realm.

  It is a member of this body, however. It will tell how to reach what is ours.

  It operates in secret. It does not trust the body.

  Separation kills. The All will prevail.

  If they remain separate.

  What does the All tell us? It is good to listen.

  Listen to the All.

  They listened. The answer came quickly.

  Extermination. The Kalquorians first, then the rest to confirm they will not invade what is ours.

  Yes.

  Death to the Kalquorians.

  Death to those who are not All. It is good.

  * * * *

  Earth II

  Either Clan Rihep were phenomenally polite guests, or Stacy’s spaghetti and meatballs was that damned good. What she’d intended to freeze and eat on occasion over the next couple of months was soon gone on a tide of compliments.

  “I’m never leaving.” Etnil licked his fork, though it gleamed. There was no sign of any sauce left. “I’ll hide in a closet, and you can feed me every night. Wait, do you make pizza?”

  She chuckled. Kuran had spoken of his Imdiko’s fascination with Earther food and his many attempts to adapt it to his native tastes. “I do make pizza, but the most exotic ingredients you’ll find on mine will be sausage, pepperoni, and mushrooms.”

  “Do I get to choose my own closet, or do you have a particular one I can move into?”

  Rihep smiled and shook his head while watching her. “I promise, he’s harmless. Mostly.” He glanced at Kuran, and a shadow passed over his face.

  Kuran had been uncharacteristically quiet. Even Etnil, for all his joking, had watched his clanmate, flashes of concern darting over his mischievous countenance.

  “Can I ask what’s going on?” Stacy asked.

  “Kuran got some upsetting news today,” Rihep said. “But I think it’s classified information?”

  “It is, but she knows what’s going on,” Kuran said. “The committee cleared her because she’s open to our assistance when it comes to planetary protection.”

  “Clearance is offered on a case-by-case basis,” Stacy added. “Planetary protection? Are we discussing the spyship squadron? Is there a problem?”

  “Only personal.” Kuran scowled at his plate and its remnants of sauce. “The defensive cordon is fine. I’m having issues because of who’ll be in charge of it.”

  Stacy listened as he told her the story of the reviled Admiral Piras, and his almost as hated Nobek, Captain Kila.

  “Wow. There is some serious baggage between you and him. Have you met him in person?”

  “No, but he had a hell of a reputation. Everyone in the service heard of ‘The Terror of the Fleet.’ He took no one’s shit, and he accepted nothing less than excellence. They said he could tear your head off with his sharp tongue.”

  “He sounds like a nightmare.”

  Kuran managed a bitter chuckle. “When he was a captain, Nobeks begged to serve on his vessel.”

  “Masochists?”

  “Men who had nothing left to live for,” Etnil opined.

  “Earning even inconsequential praise from Piras was considered a higher honor than a medal or commendation. He was the ultimate challenge when it came to winning glory.”

  “Then he pretended to turn on the empire and join the Basma. Your brother paid the price.”

  “Our other brother and hundreds of thousands of civilians were saved on Haven and elsewhere because of Piras. He and Kila were there to keep the Basma and Earth’s former Holy Leader from killing them. Then he warned Kalquor of the Bi’is’ coming attack and saved the whole damned empire.” Kuran pushed his plate away and gazed at her. “He should be hailed as a hero. I wish I could be practical about the matter.”

  “It sounds as if you’ll be practical enough. You did tell the admirals you could work with him.” She was glad. She hated the thought of Kuran leaving when it felt they were beginning to get close.

  “I should give Piras a chance. I will give him a chance. After all, it must have cost him dearly to have given up Laro Station and the men on it.” Kuran grabbed his glass of bohut and drained it.

  “That’s quite evolved of you, my Nobek. Sometimes I hold out hope you’ll grow up to be a fine man someday.” Etnil lifted his glass in salute and laughed when Kuran made a rude gesture in return.

  “I find it interesting they’d place a potentially problematic officer of Piras’ infamy in charge here,” Rihep mused. “If anything goes wrong and Piras’ involvement comes up, it would deliver a black eye to the fleet’s high command, wouldn’t it?”

  “They mentioned rehabilitating his reputation. There are a lot of Kalquorians who’d rather see him dead than admit he did what was needed.” Kuran’s expression told Stacy he had difficulty not numbering himself among them.

  “What kind of trouble would such a revelation do here?” Rihep’s attention returned to Stacy. “I take it your lieutenant governor isn’t in the loop as far as the spyship squad is concerned?”

  “Absolutely not. The shit would hit the fan if he was. As far as I know, I’m the only government official of Earth who knows.” She darted a look at Kuran for verification, and he nodded. “As I said, clearance for secret information is on case-by-case basis. Admiral Hobato thought it best I be able to call on the squad’s leader for assistance if we found ourselves encountering trouble we can’t handle.”

  “Earthtiques,” Etnil supplied. “Did they really enjoy how your first home planet was run? The domestic and galactic wars, secret police, and lack of freedoms?”

  “If they benefitted from it in some way, yes. Bryant was born into a family of successful businessmen and politicians who realized great profit from the old regime on the original Earth. His own political star was rising when Armageddon happened.”

  “His concern you might find a Kalquorian clan acceptable for a future relationship speaks of possible speciesism,” Rihep noted.

  Stacy wondered if she imagined the Dramok was scouting for information on her romantic prospects. “He has little to be concerned over for as long as I remain governor.”

  “Oh? The post isn’t permanent. Kuran said you intend to run in the election.”

  “I do. I have so many hopes for my people and this world, and I want to help realize them before I have to step aside. Win or lose, I hope to help put this planet on a path to success, and I’ll stick it out as long as it takes to do so.”

  “And keep the Earthtiques from turning it into another…hmm, how can I put this delicately?” Etnil said.

  “Hellhole?” Stacy snickered.

  “Ah, that’s the word.” The Imdiko laughed.

  “An honorable goal.” Rihep joined in with the humor.

  “Dinner with Kalquorians is as close to considering a clanship as you’ll come?” Kuran kept his voice light, though he watched her closely.

  “I didn’t say that.” Stacy met his gaze. Perhaps she hadn’t imagined his interest in her. “Four terms of two years each is the maximum the legislature will allow the governor to have. I won’t be in office forever. Who knows what interesting opportunities for my future beyond politics might come along? Nothing is off the table as far as romance is concerned, including if the right clan comes along.”

  * * * *

  Kila’s spyship

  “Orbit around Earth has been achieved, Captain Kila,” First Officer Deram reported from his helmsman’s podium. “Matching velocity of the Kalquorian space station. All systems and stations reporting in the green.”

  “Excellent, First Officer.” Kila glanced at Piras, hoping the flash of nervous anticipation didn’t show. “Home sweet home for who knows how long?”

  Piras turned to the mop of hair at the communications station. “Alert Admiral Hobato’s aide we’ve arrived.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “Look at those marauders,” he said to Kila, pride shining as he gazed at the phased vessels patrolling the unaware planet. “It’s an honor to be in charge of the first squadron. I look forward to meeting their captains.”

  At least Piras sounded assured. Kila allowed his gaze to linger on his commanding officer and clanmate.

  Keeping an eye on Bi’is for five years, a week’s journey from their home planet, hadn’t been a picnic, but at least he hadn’t had to worry about those who’d be eager to claim revenge for Laro Station. For five years, it had been only his ship and his carefully vetted crew, none of whom had had relatives posted on the doomed installation when the Basma’s forces had killed its defenders. There had been the occasional trip to Kalquor, but no one outside of High Command or their families had been aware of their presence.

  Orbiting Earth, they’d cut their distance from the empire in half. They’d have regular communication with the marauders and those in charge of Earth’s on-planet security aboard the space station. There would be face-to-face meetings. Kila knew at least one of their future contacts had been related to someone killed on Laro. There were sure to be more.

  He loved a fight, as did any Nobek. What worried him was if he committed a single mistake, Piras could pay with his life.

  I can’t let anything happen to him. But their new assignment, to defend Earth from outside forces, carried a greater threat from within.

  Ancestors, help me be the Nobek he deserves. Don’t let me fuck this up.

  Chapter Seven

  Alpha Space Station

  Piras entered the space station’s conference room, a step behind Kila. His Nobek had insisted on preceding him despite them maintaining their personal phasing. Outwardly, Kila displayed his natural expression, a mocking smile. However, Piras detected an extra wariness in his Nobek. He was on guard for trouble.

  Extreme precautions had been taken on their behalf. Kila’s spyship was berthed at a secret outer dock on the station. Not even the station commander knew where the phased umbilical connecting Kila’s spyship to the station was located. No one but Hobato, Tranis, and the spyship crew had any idea it existed.

  “He’s the head of security on the planet,” Kila said, nodding to the man sitting at the table close to Hobato and Tranis. “His name is Nobek Kuran. He used to work for the fleet, but he’s a contractor now. It’s hoped it makes his presence less unpalatable to the traditional-leaning Earthers.”

  “He had a family member on Laro when it was taken by Maf’s forces.” Like Kila, Piras had paid attention to the names of those they’d work with who might be less than thrilled by their presence.

  “A younger brother.” Kila scowled. “Killed by fellow Kalquorians who lacked any trace of honor. Fucking traitors.”

  “Some would say we number among them. Well, let’s get this meeting underway.” Piras’ finger poised over his phase device, a small metal chevron pinned to his blue formsuit…the armored version Kila had insisted he wear.

  He waited for Kila to deactivate his first, knowing it would help his protective clanmate feel better. The three men waiting for them jerked as the fierce Nobek, wearing his trademark terrifying grin, abruptly appeared less than two feet from Tranis. Kuran’s hand went automatically toward his belt, where several knives and a blaster were holstered. He stopped short when Tranis sighed.

  “I hate how you startle me every time, Captain. Where’s Admiral Piras?”

  “He’s here.” Kila’s gaze on Kuran was unwavering. His fellow Nobek, a muscled but handsome brute, lowered his hand, which had remained ready to snatch a blade.

  Piras unphased. “You know how Nobeks are about protecting their clanmates and commanding officers in potentially dangerous environments. Good day, Admiral Hobato, Admiral Tranis. Security Head Kuran.” He bowed, as did Kila, whose eyes never left his fellow Nobek.

  “Welcome to Earth space, Admiral Piras.” Hobato returned the bow, as did his companions. “It’s good to have you closer to home.”

  “Indeed. This is long overdue,” Tranis said, a smile appearing within his thick, trimmed beard.

  Piras and Tranis had a rocky history, but the other Dramok seemed earnest in his friendly regard. Piras returned the smile. “I’m glad you feel the time has come. What of you, Nobek Kuran? How much does my presence sicken you?”

  Kuran’s gaze slid from its assessment of Kila to look Piras over. “We’re going straight to it, are we?”

  “We might as well. I sold out Laro Station, where your brother was assigned. He died because of my treachery. You put in a request to the captain of the destroyer you were serving on to hunt me down.”

  “That was before I was aware of the reason behind your actions.” Kuran’s tone was flat, devoid of emotion.

  Too devoid. Piras sensed the animosity lying beneath the placid exterior.

  Tranis, who had a great deal of experience with how provoking Piras could be, tried to interject. “Nobek Kuran has stated his understanding of the position you were put in. He agrees Laro Station was the best of a horrible choice you had to make as our agent.”

  “Yes, yes, it was a military target or a civilian one. Kuran’s brother was a soldier who would have welcomed the chance for the honor and glory he earned, had he known up front. It doesn’t matter, does it?” Piras waved Tranis off, his stare locked on the Nobek who stared back unblinking. “Cards on the table, Kuran. I don’t fuck around with pleasantries. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I understand why you did it. I also appreciate the action you took to save Haven, where my second brother was on the front lines to defend the planet. I can even say I’d have done the same to Laro in your place. As I told Admirals Hobato and Tranis, I can work with you to keep Earth safe.” Kuran’s teeth ground together, and anger finally appeared. “But if you and Captain Kila give me any justification to beat the hell out of you, I’ll take it.”

  “Fair enough.” Piras dropped into the seat next to Tranis, across the table from Kuran. He waved a negligent hand. “Your fleet service record is exemplary. You’ve done well since you were assigned to Earth as a contractor. I have no reason to believe the situation will change.”

  “But?” Kuran knew he was far from done.

  “That being said, if you give me any sign your animosity toward Captain Kila and me will get in the way of Earth’s defense, I’ll have you off the planet so fast, you won’t remember you were ever there. You’ll probably leave on a hospital ship.”

  It sounded like posturing. Piras hoped Kuran would realize what the other men in the room knew: his attitude was no pretense. He meant every word he said.

  “Have we got a deal?” he pressed.

  Kuran stared at him, his brow slowly lifting. Piras hoped he was seeing a hint of respect in those unblinking eyes. If he didn’t, it made no difference. His clan and Kuran were there to do their jobs. They didn’t have to like each other to carry out their coinciding missions of keeping the new planet safe.

  The Nobek settled in his seat. He nodded once. “We have a deal, Admiral.”