CHAPTER 5
Xaviara had no reason to be on the bridge, no official function in a crisis like this, but she scuttled in after Nicholen and tried to blend into the wall. She had to know what was happening to Manda and the real prince; a second-hand account after a nail-biting wait wouldn’t do.
The bridge was a chaos of blaring computer warnings and crew hunched over consoles. The navigation officer manually piloted their ship’s controls, and the communication officer repeated a message over and over. “Lead ship KH-159, come in, please. Advise your status. This is anchor ship KH-159. Please come in.”
The front wallscreen displayed a stunning blue and green planet with swirling clouds—like Earth but with more vibrant colors. They were no longer in mu-space. Instead, they were stopped in a solar system halfway between Sol and Imdali.
“What’s happening?” demanded Nicholen, indigo cape flying behind him as he stormed up to the navigation officer, Anthony.
“They must have hit a pocket in the magnetic storm. They’ve been knocked out of mu-space, and they’re spinning out of control.” Anthony’s fingers tweaked tri-D controls in front of the console. He must be settling us into orbit.
“There has to be something we can do.” Nicholen leaned over the console, corded muscles rippling. “Turn on a tractor beam! Pull them out of there!”
“They’re caught in the gravity well of that planet.” Anthony seemed to be visibly steeling himself not to cower. “The tractor beam would do no good.”
“How could this have possibly happened?” Nicholen turned heel again—a crisp movement that was no doubt courtesy of his military background, a fact no one but Xaviara seemed to have noticed yet. She loved watching him. He was so efficient, so intense. “I went over the flight plans myself, and the magnetic storm should be nowhere near us.”
No one questioned why the trincaar would be reviewing flight plans. Anthony was focused on the controls, and the communication officer droned the message. Nicholen punched buttons on the console, zooming in on the lead ship. It was spinning on its horizontal axis—not wildly out of control, but Xaviara had no idea how they were going to stabilize it with the speed it had picked up.
Goosebumps prickled up her arm. Poor Manda. Xaviara had never received very good marks in her flight classes, but she knew what an out-of-control object looked like.
Gloria appeared at the door. The black woman’s eyes swept across the room and landed on the kadyyza “prince.” “Calm yourself, Nicholen. My staff is doing the best they can.”
He wheeled on her, violet eyes sparking. “Is that so? You do realize that our people are—”
A siren blared again, and the AI coolly informed the chaotic room, “Lead ship KH-159 is now on a collision course for planet UTP-8907.”
“For all the crimson-shaded leaves in the—” Xaviara’s translator failed at whatever word Nicholen shouted next.
“Trincaar.” Gloria glided into the room. Though she was tall and thin, her presence demanded the attention of everyone. “Manda Aurellia is the best pilot that I have ever known. If anyone can land them safely on the planet, she can. And as I understand it, your captain has also won awards for his flying.”
Nicholen bit his lip so hard blood welled.
Nicholen is the one with the awards. The trincaar is only… Well, Camlan was known as a good flier, too, but she could see the way Nicholen was glaring at the wallscreen. He must be thinking he should be the one in the downward spiral toward the planet now. His protective instincts made something inside Xaviara flare. What would it be like to have him care that much about her?
The ship was lost under a covering of clouds now. When it reappeared, it was tiny. Nicholen attempted to magnify it, but the picture went grainy. It was difficult to tell if the ship was still spinning.
They have to get it under control, or they won’t survive the crash.
As if in response, the AI said, “Lead ship KH-159 stabilized landing trajectory. Landing zone predicted at 43.916 latitude, -78.924 longitude.”
“Now, see,” said Gloria. “They’re going to be fine.”
The bridge was silent except for a staccato beep. They watched on the screen as the ship disappeared again under a cloud. The room seemed to hold its breath. Anthony swiped to pull up a rendering of what was happening, using information pulled from the lead ship’s sensors: a black background with a cartoon-like white ship and ground.
“Lead ship KH-159 losing altitude,” said the AI. “Lead ship KH-159 on target for landing zone. Lead ship KH-159 losing altitude.”
The ship came close to the ground, landed, bounced once, and landed again.
As it finally came to a rest, Nicholen let out a long breath. “They’re stuck on that planet until we figure out a way to get them off.”
“Of course,” Gloria said.
“This ship is too big to land on an object that large. It was never meant for anything except docking at space stations.”
“I know that.”
“And—”
The AI cut him off. “Communications lost with lead ship KH-159. Strong magnetic fields of planet UTP-8907 are interfering with uplink. Please stand by. Please stand by. Please stand—”
“Turn that thing off!” shouted Nicholen, as the communication officer cut the voice.
“Trincaar.” Gloria’s voice was smooth but steely. “I would suggest a breather. We will handle this situation and get your man off the planet safely.”
“But I—”
“No one was ever saved by anyone whose emotions were raging out of control.”
Xaviara was offended on his behalf. He was taking charge of the situation, protecting his prince. It was his job. But, of course, no one else knew that.
Nicholen’s face was dark blue. “The lead ship only has emergency supplies for two weeks. We can’t waste any time mounting a rescue.”
“I agree, and I assure you, we will rescue him,” finished Gloria. “You know as well as I how important this delegation is to humans.”
“Let me—”
“Not right now.” Gloria could be cold when she wanted to be. This woman got what she wanted.
Nicholen opened his mouth.
“This is our responsibility. Don’t make me order you off the bridge.” It was a ballsy statement, but given that humans were the lead party in this diplomatic delegation, Gloria would do it. The words were spoken quietly—a Senior Ambassador to an unruly prince.
Xaviara prickled. This was the same woman who’d insisted on the official reprimand because of she and Piotr’s pranks. Gloria was unforgiving, and Xaviara decided she absolutely didn’t like her.
Nicholen pressed his lips together, and they turned an even darker shade of blue than usual. “Fine.” Once more, his turn was crisp, the snap of his cape more practiced than it was the day they arrived.
He stalked off the bridge.
She really shouldn’t go after him, but his attractiveness was getting the better of her. Romantic relations between diplomatic teams were strictly forbidden until the treaty was signed because of the possible influence on the negotiations. She could lose her job and any prospect of being a full ambassador someday.
But he needed help—he would be floundering now that he was kicked off the bridge—and she couldn’t just let him wallow in the unknown, worrying about his prince alone.
Besides, she could resist him. And who was to say he was attracted to her in return? He was much too distracted to consider anything bu saving Camlan right now.
The crew, including Gloria, turned to the wallscreen, now covered with streams of data.
Unnoticed, Xaviara hurried off after him.
* * *
Nicholen glared humans and kadyyza out of the way as he stormed toward his quarters.
This was an absolute, full-on, unmitigated disaster. It overshadowed the near-assassination of several years ago like a gas giant over one of its moon. As soon as they got Camlan out of this mess—and they would get Camlan out of this mess—he was going to give everyone a piece of his mind. The trincaar, the head of security for the royal family, the trincaarit himself—despite his genetic predisposition.
He punched the button on his room, and the door slid open with hardly a sound, plunging him into an even fouler mood. When they were on the homeworld, at least he could slam doors with verve and vigor and have them respond in kind.
As he stepped inside, someone caught his eye. Xaviara hovered at the far end of the corridor, looking like she was unsure whether to approach cautiously or flee in terror. He stopped halfway through and growled, “What is it?”
She twirled to look behind herself, hair fanning out.
“Yes, you, what is it? You followed me from the bridge. You might as well come over here and tell me what you want.”
Seeing the sexy aide made some of his frustration melt away, much to his dismay. He needed to be focusing on getting Camlan off the planet—but Senior Ambassador Gloria had mowed over all his protestations and never looked back.
Xaviara came down the hallway, looking for all the galaxy like she was going to bolt at any moment.
“I won’t bite.” He forced a smile. “Not unless you want me to, that is.”
She blushed again—forebears, he loved that shade. He moved out of the way to allowed her into his quarters, which were little more than a cell with a bed and a small writing table. And this was the opulent suite for the trincaar—these ships were not made for long-range travel. The two days between their systems was pushing its limits. She stepped inside, the door slid shut behind her, and he suddenly realized they were alone in the cramped space.
“Do you want to go to the mess hall?” It wasn’t an enormous improvement, but at least others would be around.
“This is fine. Actually, I have something I need to say, and it’s best if we’re alone.”
Every fiber of his being hummed with the desire to know what she could possibly have to say to him alone. He pointed to the desk chair bolted to the floor.
She shook her head. “I don’t even know where to start with this.”
“At the beginning?” His blood was still pumping quickly, but no longer from the earlier fury. She was so curvy, so small, so perfect, even in the mole that graced her cheek.
She stared at her fingernails and then blurted, “I think someone sabotaged the lead ship.”
“What?” he roared.
She shuddered but didn’t cringe back. “I didn’t tell you sooner because… Well…”
Out came the story of her botched date—a fact that relieved him enormously, since that meant she was single. Focus, man, he admonished himself. Then she explained about the mail and Manda’s subsequent dismissal of her concerns. She forwarded him the snap of the mail, with the cryptic letters embedded within. He studied it and then returned to her story. When she got to the end, he’d reined in his fury enough that he stood seething in silence, wishing he could pace again.
“I know it doesn’t matter who did it, not exactly,” she said, “but I’m afraid this might only be the beginning. It could be anyone, and they’re probably on our ship right now.”
“Yes. This is concerning.” His mind raced, going over the possibilities. Was it kadyyza? Was it human? It could be anyone—the delegates Camlan had brought or even Gloria herself. He eyed the short woman in front of him, trying and failing not to note her well-rounded curves. Xaviara wouldn’t tell me this if she were the saboteur, would she?
“That’s not all.” She seemed to be forcing out the words.
“Of course it’s not.” Storms don’t travel alone—an old kadyyza proverb. “Go on.”
“Um… You see… I don’t know how you did it, but whatever you did didn’t work on me.”
The words were rushed, and Nicholen couldn’t figure out what she was saying. Was the translator failing? “What do you mean? Slow down.”
She blew out a breath. “I know why you’re so upset. I know you’re not the trincaar. Whatever you or Camlan did, it didn’t work on me. I know the real prince is stuck down on the planet.”
Without thinking, Nicholen swept the knife from his ankle holster, pushed Xaviara against the wall, and held it at her throat.