“Scanner’s picking up nothing odd. Including her blood sugar. It’s normal, for a human.” Hadlez was obviously perplexed.

  Tranis climbed to his feet. “Except for feeling tired, I’m fine now.”

  “You’re getting a medical workup,” Piras said in his most aggressive tone.

  “You’re no longer my commanding officer.” Tranis’ brows lowered. “I’m due to go home in a couple of days. I’ll have blood work before I leave and see if anything shows up, but—”

  “I may not be your commanding officer, but I know your Nobek. I’ll…” Piras paused and glanced at a glowering Kila. “I’ll have Doctor Hadlez send him a report of your collapse, along with the need to be certain you weren’t affected by any infection we might have brought from Bi’is.”

  The men glared for a few seconds, then Tranis relented. “Fine, Admiral. I’ll go to Medical and have labs done.”

  “Thank you, Admiral.”

  Hope waited to comment until Tranis had left for Medical, Hadlez accompanying him. “Woof. To have been a fly on the wall when you guys served on the same ship.”

  Piras sighed. “I’m glad you weren’t. I wasn’t at my best then. Let’s drop this stuff off, and I’ll log an incident report.” He glanced at Lokmi, who’d decided to pile his belongings on the hover cart Selt and Hadlez had been using. “At least you’re finally showing some sense.”

  “Kila dropped his load first. I won.”

  Their Nobek spluttered. “The hell you did! I set my shit down to assist Admiral Tranis!”

  “Before I did. I won.”

  Piras put his arm around Hope and nudged their hover cart forward as their clanmates yelled at each other. “Such an auspicious start to our new lives. Tell me again why we’re returning to civilization?”

  * * * *

  Alpha Space Station, command deck

  “This is a station matter, and therefore, a Kalquorian Empire matter.” Kuran increased his speed, hoping to dissuade the woman trotting at his heels as he hurried to the conference room near Operations.

  “Your station is orbiting my planet. Your assignment is to me and my world, yet you’ve been called in to be advised of an incident that occurred here. It sounds to me like an Earth matter. As its governor, I have a right to know what’s going on.” Stacy sped up to match his long strides.

  “The short story is an admiral’s blood sugar dipped, and he collapsed. He’s being looked at by Medical. If there’s anything else, I can report it to you.”

  “Or, since I’m already on the station, I can meet your Admiral Piras and get the story myself.” She smiled brightly at him when he glanced at her.

  Kuran admired her tenacity and determination to do her job to the best of her ability. However, if Piras decided to act like the asshole he was so famous for being, if he aimed his asshole-ishness in her direction, she’d see a side of Kuran he’d rather she didn’t.

  “Governor, please…” he groaned, imagining her horror when she saw him stomp Piras into a blood puddle.

  “Ah, good. I agree it would be best to make this an official visit. Admiral Piras can’t very well object to my attendance then.”

  Kuran walked faster. Stacy jogged, her smile still in place but cast in a stubborn light.

  * * * *

  Stacy beamed at the handsome, strong-jawed Dramok Kuran introduced her to. “Admiral Piras, it’s an honor.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Governor Nichols.” Piras bowed deeply to her.

  “It sounds as if they’ve tossed a bucketful of trouble at you, and you’ve barely managed to set foot on the station.”

  His answering grin held no hint of unhappiness at her presence. Indeed, the man was sheer politeness and consideration as he showed her to a chair at the conference table. This was Kalquor’s infamous Terror of the Fleet?

  Rear Admiral Hobato was similarly welcoming. “I’m sorry I wasn’t available to greet you on the planet at the formal ceremony, Governor. The marauder squadron had only just arrived, so our timing wasn’t the best. I had planned to visit Earth in a couple of days, Please don’t think you were being ignored.”

  “It never crossed my mind, Admiral. We’re all under the tyranny of a schedule. Thank you.” She smiled at an aide who placed a glass of water on the table in front of her.

  “It’s fortunate you were on the station this evening. If I may bring her up to speed before we get to tonight’s incident?” Piras asked Hobato.

  “Please do, but—” Hobato turned on a sound blocking device as the door shut behind his departing aide. “Governor, what you’ll hear tonight is top secret information. Admiral Piras will omit several key details, such as locations and activities we’re restricted from divulging, but you’ll still be privy to matters not meant for the many.”

  “You have my word I won’t divulge anything you tell me. Shall I formally record an agreement that to do so will result in being prosecuted?”

  “It’s an unfortunate necessity.”

  “Which I have no problem with.”

  After the formality was performed, Piras told her about having spied on a world believed to be harboring secret weapons labs. The planet was considered to be a threat to member planets of the Galactic Council membership. He described the appearance of a strange shadow vessel, as well as the low blood sugar and memory issues suffered by members of the crew’s away team soon afterward. Then he related the encounter with Admiral Tranis and his suffering a similar episode of low blood sugar.

  “You and Captain Kila were exposed to your away team but didn’t show any ill effects?” Kuran asked.

  “None. In fact, the only reports of it happening were to the team alone, if you discount Admiral Tranis.”

  “His lightheadedness is most likely unrelated to Kila’s crew, then,” Hobato said. “It sounds as if the team encountered something environmental during their work, which they shook off once they were clear of it.”

  “I agree.” Piras seemed relieved.

  “Nonetheless, I’d prefer to err on the side of caution. Let’s have the entire crew do the medical workup as you’d planned, then proceed from there. We’ll have tests done on everyone they’ve come in contact with. Eventually, we’ll have the entire station’s personnel checked.”

  “Medical will hate it.” Kuran smirked.

  “They’ll get over it.” Hobato regarded Stacy. “Do you have any problem with us doing a lab analysis on you, since you’ve been exposed to Piras? We can put you at the head of the line and rush your results. We’ll provide overnight quarters, and you’ll return to the planet first thing in the morning.”

  Stacy’s night out with Clan Rihep had been interrupted by the summons. She was delighted to have an excuse to stick around, at least once she’d given the Kalquorians whatever samples they required. “I’m happy to assist you in any way possible.”

  “Thank you, Governor. Let’s get you taken care of.” Piras smiled warmly.

  The Terror of the Fleet. Right.

  * * * *

  Earth II, next morning

  In her office, Stacy sucked down her second cup of coffee and contemplated whether having the jitters was worth a third. From the way Ken Bryant was looking at her, a shot of whiskey would be of more help.

  “I heard you went to the Kalquorian station last night. You didn’t return until this morning.” His gaze flicked to Kuran, who’d shown up to go over the latest security protocols.

  “I met with a couple of fleet admirals. When the meeting went late, they offered me overnight quarters. I was too tired to pilot my shuttle safely, so I accepted the room.”

  She was fudging the truth on who had been involved in the “late meeting.” Once she’d visited the medical department and given them their samples, she and Kuran had rejoined his clan for a stroll around the recreation deck. It had still been fairly early when she got her results from the lab: no sign of infection, alien or otherwise. She really should have turned in at that point, but she’d enjoyed the company. Clan Rihep was a diversion worth losing sleep for.

  She had a lot of affection and a healthy amount of lust for the threesome. Damned if she’d let Bryant keep her from enjoying herself.

  “Do you have a report to share concerning your meeting? If they’re nosing into Earth business, I should be informed of the details, as should the General Assembly.”

  “There actually isn’t much to report. It started off as a first meeting with Hobato, the head muckety-muck of the fleet.”

  “Rear admiral,” Kuran supplied when she looked at him.

  “Thank you. Rear Admiral Hobato hadn’t been able to break away as he’d planned in order to welcome us to the planet. I decided it was high time I went up and shook his hand. A second admiral had arrived the day before. He’ll be in long-term residence and in charge of the station, so I spoke to him too. He had some fascinating tales from their civil war. Time got away from us, so I stayed over.”

  “Is it wise to be seen as so chummy with them? Some might get the wrong idea. What’s the commanding admiral’s name?”

  “Piras. He’s a decent fellow. I’m thinking of having his clan here for a function so the legislature can become familiar with them. I’m especially interested in meeting his Matara.”

  She mentioned the female member of Clan Piras to let Bryant know what she thought of his intimation of her being “chummy” with a Kalquorian.

  How about three? You can keep barking up the wrong tree, though. My personal life is none of your business.

  “Once Earth is up and running smoothly, we should discuss the removal of the space station. Or we could take it over if they prefer to leave it here. We won’t need alien interference forever.”

  Stacy bristled at him referring to the Kalquorians’ assistance as interference. She caught Kuran watching her, however. He rolled his eyes and grinned.

  She relaxed. “I don’t foresee us having the capability to fend off Tragooms any time soon, Ken. There’ve also been rumors of the Asicars becoming aggressive since Bi’is lost the ability to hold them in check. We’re very vulnerable at this stage.”

  “Which brings up a subject I’ve been wanting to discuss. We need our own fleet and ground troops. Some have mentioned mandatory training and service for our young people. Perhaps a year or two when they turn eighteen?”

  She stared at him in surprise. “Are you looking to start another war? Wasn’t the last one plenty? Didn’t enough people die?”

  He paled, then reddened. “I’m not discussing an army of aggression. As you said, Tragooms could pose problems in the future, and we should be in charge of our defense.”

  “How are we supposed to pay for it? The Galactic Council and its members have given us the bare essentials to start living here. They’ll take care of our defense for the foreseeable future, as they do for Plasius.”

  “I find it concerning the Galactic Council’s assistance comes primarily from one race, the Kalquorians.”

  “Kalquor is also the main protector for Joshada. I don’t hear the Joshadans complaining.”

  “You prefer to rely on handouts? It’s time to chart our own destiny, Stacy.”

  “We have more pressing business than blasters and warships. Basic living services and infrastructure, for example.” She shook her head. “The current General Assembly was appointed, as we were, to get the ball rolling. To start an economy and get Earth on a paying basis, so to speak. We’re here to iron out the wrinkles of a new world and little else. That’s what I hope we’ll concentrate on…living, instead of fighting. When it’s time for elections, the people can tell those they elect what direction they want us to go in.”

  Ken gazed at her for a couple of beats. A slight smile pulled at his lips. “That sounds like a campaign talking point for re-election, Governor.”

  “Is it any good? Maybe I’ll use it.”

  He chuckled. “I understand what you’re saying. Just be aware, there are already those who are discussing taking off the training wheels. They’re looking at the long game, the big picture. Here and now is temporary. We can’t content ourselves by concentrating on the next six months and no further.”

  “Now who’s campaigning?”

  “Who says I’m running?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She narrowed her eyes, but she smiled with him. “Even in the next year, I doubt we can put many resources toward defense systems. Like everything else, the military will have to be built from the ground up.”

  “It’s all the more reason to begin figuring it out. We can at least be laying down the groundwork, looking at budgets, seeing who’s left to train soldiers and crews…we lost so many in the war.”

  She had to admit, he had a point. There would be those, Earthtique and new thinkers alike, who would demand humans have the ability to defend themselves. “Fine. Start looking at the logistics. Let’s appoint a committee, log some reports, hash over what it’ll take to make our defense self-sufficient.”

  “I know who to talk to.” He beamed. “I’m glad you’re on board.”

  I’ll bet you are. Her spirit of camaraderie was jabbed by disquiet at his enthusiasm.

  It was late in the afternoon, but Stacy still wondered if she’d handled Ken’s seeming lust for military might correctly. Kuran had assured her he thought it was perfectly reasonable for the lieutenant governor to be gathering information and resources toward a self-sustained armed force. Especially since the Nobek was confident it wouldn’t be feasible for at least a decade, probably much longer.

  “Besides, it’ll give the Earthtiques happy thoughts to keep themselves occupied. If they concentrate on shiny ships and big guns, they might forget to stick their noses in the rest,” he’d opined.

  “It’s distracting Ken from worrying over what I was up to on the space station,” she agreed. “But it has a side effect I hadn’t anticipated.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m encouraged to show him there isn’t a damned thing he can do to stop me from hanging around Kalquorians. If I do and he says a word, I can tell him to mind his own business.”

  “Is my clan reason enough? Tonight?” Kuran grinned at her from the other side of her desk. His naughty smile inspired a fantasy of her sweeping the surface of her workspace clean and inviting him to lie on it.

  Rumor said Kalquorians were demanding when it came to sex. Alpha to the core. Maybe he’d put her on the desk. The vision erupting in her mind made her insides fizz like champagne.

  “You don’t have plans already?” She hoped her tone wasn’t too breathy. He might get the wrong idea. Or would it be the right idea?

  “To my knowledge, my clan’s evening will consist of dinner followed by either watching the news or a recorded concert. We’re a wild bunch.”

  Stacy laughed. “I’d hate to impose on your night of rowdy delights.”

  “Impose, please. I’m falling asleep from boredom thinking about it. I’ll com Rihep and ask him to upgrade whatever our meal plan was. We can do takeout.”

  “I assumed Etnil did the food planning.”

  Kuran snickered as he drew his com from its pouch on his belt. “I’d rather not subject you to one of his experiments. He recently discovered the existence of burritos and is beside himself in delight at all he can wrap inside tortillas. Considering the stuff he puts on pizza, I prefer letting Rihep decide on dinner.”

  Alpha Space Station, that night

  Stacy’s grilled rizpah on a bed of wedi-herbed gusasp was amazing. “This would be good as a burrito,” she told Etnil, who was indeed extolling the virtues of a new-to-him portable meal. “Fish burritos were popular on the first Earth.”

  “I love it when a woman talks cuisine,” he sighed, batting his eyelashes at her. “Tell me more, brazen temptress. Tease me with visions of cramming my lunch in my mouth in one hand while jabbing patients full of sedatives with the other. Of Kuran enjoying a healthy, nutritious snack while stabbing his enemies. Or Rihep eating while he…while he…while he does whatever deadly boring job Rihep does.”

  “Whatever it takes to avoid you for a few hours,” the Dramok chuckled.

  “Tacos, Etnil. Hard-shelled folded tortillas filled with meat, cheese, sauces, lettuce, and tomatoes.” Stacy decided to match him for outrageousness, though she suspected he could exceed her easily. Her voice was husky as she recited, “Pasties, a sort of pie crust enclosing meat and other ingredients. Calzones, similar to pizzas but also in an enclosed crust. Kebobs, bite-sized food grilled on a stick.”

  “Food. On. A. Stick. Mother of All.” He slapped a hand to his chest and mimed falling off his seating cushion in a faint.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Rihep sighed. “He’ll be flying to Earth without clearance to gather sticks.”

  “I’m sure I have skewers in my cavern of a kitchen,” Stacy said. “I’ll send you some.”

  Etnil was lying half on the floor. His head wasn’t to be seen above the low table, but his hand rose to claw at the air in Stacy’s general direction. “Give them to me. I must have them.”

  She laughed and had another bite of her rizpah.

  The clan’s quarters on the space station were small but well organized. They made good use of the space. The dining area, where they ate, was large enough for the table and seating cushions on which they sat, and boasted plenty of storage for dishes and other items in its walls. They had what they referred to as a greeting room, where they entertained guests; a common room, a sort of den where they watched their version of television and relaxed; a kitchen; a bedroom; and small rooms for each clan member for private time. Stacy had seen far less functional apartments on Old Earth.

  It was snug living, especially since its inhabitants were each over six-and-a-half-feet tall, but Stacy found it cozy. The men kept it neat, and they’d decorated tastefully with attractive and comfortable furnishings and mementos. Perhaps the ornamentation was somewhat sparse, but it wasn’t impersonal.