Chapter Three
The female he’d met, the female he was convinced was his gerel, had been Nayan, the esteemed and reclusive Head of Ship and Weapons Design.
The next planet rotation, Qulpa continued to struggle to absorb that wondrous revelation.
She had designed the ship they’d crashed. He had touched her systems, revved her engines, found joy in handling her vessel, flying it in the vastness of space.
He hadn’t known the female behind all of that happiness had belonged to him. They were connected. She was his genetic match, his gerel.
Although she refused to acknowledge their link. His lips twisted. She had abandoned honor, told him a lie about finding crash sites arousing.
That hadn’t been her only lie. Her skill at fabricating the truth had been…disturbing. But it hadn’t quashed his fascination with her. She—
“There was no need to arrive early, Qulpa.” Second sat one seat away from him. Lead Medic, Second’s gerel, positioned herself to her warrior’s right. “This is a standard debrief. It happens after every crash.”
Unlike some other Chameles, Second didn’t lie. He truly believed this was the usual post-incident meeting with Khan, their Warlord.
Qulpa silently disagreed with his superior’s evaluation. His gaze slid to the left. Urus smirked at him. The younger pilot had been gunning for his role for solar cycles.
And someone had invited the other male to this debrief. That hadn’t happened at any of the previous ones.
Qulpa hadn’t been severely injured at those meetings. He tucked his wounded hand under the horizontal support, hiding it from view.
“He knows that.” Ariq claimed the chair between him and Second. “This is our fifth debrief.”
This was the first time Qulpa had attended one knowing he was unfit to hold his role. Lead Medic claimed his mechanical fingers would be the equivalent of the ones he’d lost.
He wanted to believe that yet couldn’t. Their Warlord’s second-in-command required the best team reporting to him. That included the best pilot.
Even if he could fly again, which was doubtful, he wouldn’t be the best pilot. That designation would forever evade him.
An honorable warrior would step aside.
He clenched his jaw, irked that he would be forced to do that in front of Urus. The male would do his best to humiliate him.
The doors to the meeting chamber opened. The most delectable scent hit Qulpa’s nostrils, hardening his cock.
It also filled him with dread.
His gerel had entered the space, would be attending his last debrief. Resigning his role in front of her, a female he wanted to impress, would slice his pride into strips.
He turned, watched her as she strode forward, her chin tilted upward. She was small for a Chamele female. That would put her at a disadvantage in a fight.
But she was strong of will and intelligent. Those characteristics would offset her lack of height.
And her beauty knew no bounds. At this meeting, her long black hair was pulled back from her face. Her golden skin glowed. Her brown eyes flashed.
She was overdressed for one of their kind. He wore ass coverings and boots, his chest, arms, legs bare. She was covered in skintight black leather. Even her palms were covered. Her boot heels tapped against the floor tile as she moved, her hips swaying, her bearing proud.
His cock bobbed, showing its appreciation. He breathed deeply. Her arousal scented the air.
Yet she didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge him. His defiant gerel sat at the far side of the horizontal support, several seats away from Lead Medic.
“They must need someone to document this also.” Urus sniggered.
“What did you say?” Qulpa frowned at him. Was the male insulting Nayan?
“She’s a trainee from Ship and Weapons Design.” The young pilot’s grin irritated him. “She’s genetically lacking. Look at how short she is. But she’s easy on the eyes.”
His gerel was genetically lacking? Qulpa’s vision turned red.
“You will not disrespect her.” He slowly extended his claws until the sharp tips pressed against Urus’ throat. “Do you understand?”
The male swallowed. Hard. “She’s a trainee.”
Why did he think she was a trainee? Qulpa looked toward Nayan.
“He made assumptions.” She shrugged, appearing unconcerned.
The doors opened behind them. “I see your claws remain intact, warrior.”
Qulpa retracted his natural weapons and jumped to his booted feet. They all stood.
Khan, their Warlord, had arrived.
Their leader strode around the horizontal support, claiming the chair facing them. Qulpa took that opportunity to move beside Nayan.
They sat when he sat. Khan was the fiercest warrior in a sector of fierce warriors and the ruler of their planet. He deserved their respect.
Nayan deserved Qulpa’s devotion. He pushed his chair closer to his gerel, slid one of his booted feet between hers. Her leg rested on his thigh. That physical contact soothed the unrest within him.
She pursed her lips, didn’t look at him, didn’t say anything.
But she also didn’t move her leg.
It was a small win, one he silently celebrated. His gerel would acknowledge their connection…eventually.
Their Warlord’s gaze settled on Qulpa’s stubborn female. “Head of Ship and Weapons Design, give us your report.”
“Head of Ship and Weapons Design.” Urus’ jaw dropped. He must have realized he’d fucked up.
Qulpa’s gerel ignored the male. “The warship that attacked Second’s ship was the same model as the one reported missing from the nearby settlement.” Her voice was flat, emotionless. “When fully functional, their top speeds are the same. One of the engines of Second’s ship had malfunctioned, however.” She glanced at Second. “A primary filter failed and sand entered the engine. I’m sorry. I take full responsibility for that defect.”
She had apologized to him for that malfunction also. Qulpa gazed at her with pride. She did have some honor.
“Chamele 4 is a sandy planet.” Their Warlord frowned at her. That was their hunting planet, a popular destination for many warriors. “Will more engines fail?”
“I’ve put in a request with maintenance to inspect all ships, my lord.” She lifted her chin. There were shadows under her eyes. Had she worked all rest cycle? “Incoming filters will be more strenuously inspected. This will not happen again.”
“Ensure it doesn’t.” Their Warlord didn’t tolerate repeated mistakes.
“The pilot of Second’s ship couldn’t outpace the attacking warship.” She didn’t use his name and that irked Qulpa.
“We should have downed the warship.” It was Second’s turn to accept responsibility. “I misjudged the situation, didn’t give that command.”
“The AXT594 has superior weapons and superior shields.” Qulpa’s gerel said that with pride. “Downing it would have been difficult.”
“Now Tolui has those superior weapons and superior shields.” Their Warlord’s fingers clenched into fists. “Work on a new design. I want all of our fleet upgraded.”
“I’ll make that task my priority, my lord.” Nayan’s head dipped. “The missile carved off the entire side of Second’s ship. If it were any other ship with any other pilot, there would have been complete loss of control. The crash would have killed all on board.”
Second gripped Lead Medic’s hand.
Their Warlord’s countenance grew starker. “Tolui will pay for what he has done.” Those words held the strength of a vow.
They were going into battle once more. Blood pumped through Qulpa’s veins. They would hunt the rogue warrior down, deliver justice.
Their Warlord’s gaze shifted to him. “You were injured in the crash.”
That injury would put Second and his team at a disadvantage. Qulpa straightened. He would never allow that, not even to save his pride. “I lost three fingers, am unable to fly.”
Ariq, Second, and Lead Medic sucked in their breaths. Nayan didn’t look at him. Urus grinned, not hiding his glee, basking in his perceived rival’s downfall.
Qulpa jutted his jaw. “I can no longer fulfill my role.”
“You can fulfill it.” Lead Medic disagreed with him. Loudly. “My lord.” She addressed their Warlord. “I’m equipping Qulpa with mechanical fingers at sunrise. He’ll be flying again in mere planet rotations.”
“Flying again isn’t sufficient.” Not for his role. “Second is your best warrior. He deserves the best pilot.”
“That isn’t you.” Urus said that under his breath but Qulpa heard his words.
As likely did their Warlord.
“There’s no one I trust more to fly my warship than Qulpa.” Second defended him. He was as loyal to his males as they were to him.
“Trust isn’t the same as ability.” Their Warlord surveyed all of them, his forehead furrowed with thought lines.
Qulpa placed his injured hand on the top of the horizontal support.
Their Warlord winced. “Will the mechanical fingers work as well as his missing ones?”
“Yes.”
“No.” Qulpa replied at the same time as Lead Medic.
“That decision is split.” Their Warlord looked at Nayan. “You’re the expert on mechanics. What’s your verdict?”
“What are you equipping him with?” His gerel asked Lead Medic. She continued to ignore Qulpa.
“I’m giving him the most advanced fingers Chameles have – the version 628s.” Lead Medic answered her.
His gerel pursed her lips.
His cock bobbed, not caring that his future was being discussed. It wanted those lush lips stretched around it.
“They’re adequate for holding a sword and gripping a gun. He can continue being a warrior.” His gerel didn’t answer the question. “He won’t be able to fly…well. The version 628s aren’t sensitive enough for that task.”
Zondoo. His shoulders slumped. Although he knew that would be the answer, he’d been hoping for a different one. He had been seeking…hope.
Instead, he felt as though she’d stripped him of all his weapons and thrown him into battle to die. She had betrayed him.
Urus grinned, triumphant in Qulpa’s downfall. All emotion vanished from Second’s expression. Ariq looked bleak.
Lead Medic was outraged. “He’ll learn to compensate for that lack of sensitivity.” She glared at Qulpa’s gerel. “To take a being’s role away because—”
“I was evaluating the mechanical fingers, not Second’s main pilot’s ability to hold his role.” Nayan, once again, didn’t utilize his name. “His duties warrant better mechanical fingers than the ones you plan to give him.”
“He warrants better mechanical fingers?” Lead Medic voiced the response he wanted to make. “The 628s are the best available.”
“They’re the best available to the average Chamele.” Nayan touched her unusual hand coverings. She did that often, as though assuring herself she wore them. “I’ve been developing a prototype specifically designed for pilots. My lord.” She met Khan’s gaze. “I would like your permission to test them on Second’s main pilot.”
Urus’ grin disappeared.
Qulpa lifted his head. His gerel hadn’t betrayed him. She wanted to equip him with better mechanical fingers, ones she herself had designed.
He liked the prospect of joining with one of her creations. He liked that very much.
“This prototype will allow him to fly?” Their Warlord lifted his eyebrows.
“In ten planet rotations, he’ll be a better pilot than he was before the crash.” There was no doubt in Nayan’s voice. “I wager my role on it.”
Everyone, including Qulpa, gaped at her. She, the Head of Ship and Weapons Design, was staking her esteemed position on his ability to fly once more.
That was how certain she was of his future.
Hope bloomed inside him. He would maintain his role as a pilot, continue to be part of Second’s team, soar amongst the stars.
And he would spend time with his gerel. She would want to oversee the testing.
“You won’t be wagering your role.” Their Warlord’s eyes glowed. “You’ll be wagering your subject’s.” He stood. “You have my permission to test your prototype. We’ll reconvene in ten planet rotations and evaluate its success.”
Their leader strode from the chamber. The doors closed behind him.
“Thank you.” Qulpa expressed his gratitude.
“There’s no need to thank me.” She finally looked at him. Her cheeks were streaked with pink. “I did it for my prototype, not for you.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, suspecting that was another one of her lies.
She held his gaze, not backing down, not saying anything else.
Stars. He wanted her. The power radiating from her intoxicated him. Her submission would be challenging to win, would be a prize worth protecting.
“I had planned to equip Qulpa with the mechanical fingers at sunrise.” Lead Medic interrupted their silent standoff. “Will the prototype be ready then?”
His gerel’s gaze shifted to Lead Medic. “It will be ready. I—”
“You’re a fortunate warrior.” Second slapped Qulpa’s back, distracting him. The males had moved around him. “You’ll be sporting mechanical fingers crafted by the Head of Ship and Weapons Design herself.”
Qulpa rose to his feet, reluctantly breaking his physical connection with his gerel.
“They’ll give you an advantage in battle.” Envy edged Ariq’s voice. The warrior prided himself on his skill at fighting. “Her creations always do. She’s a true Chamele.”
“You knew who she was.” Urus’ tone was accusatory. “Yet you said nothing to me.”
“He’s not your superior.” Ariq answered for him. “It’s not his place to correct your mistakes.”
“She didn’t introduce herself.” The male’s face flushed.
“Nayan never does.” Second muttered that.
“It isn’t her name or her role that warrants respect.” Qulpa could endure Urus’ attacks against him. He had zero tolerance for anyone undermining his gerel. “Her strength alone should earn our regard.”
“Her strength?” The male glanced at her. “She’s puny.”
Qulpa’s gerel looked toward them, her eyes flashing. One moment, her hand coverings were unadorned. The next moment, they sported long thin metal claws.
Qulpa’s jaw dropped. His natural weapons couldn’t extend that quickly.
She lifted her hands, pointed her claws toward Urus. Light reflected off the sharp tips.
The male’s face paled at the silent threat. He gulped once, twice, turned, and abruptly left, exiting the chamber with haste.
Mirth bubbled within Qulpa. His gerel was a force.
She met his gaze. Her lips lifted slightly. She retracted her mechanical claws and returned to her discussion with Lead Medic.
“Females don’t like to be called puny.” Second shared that observation with them.
Qulpa and Ariq laughed. Lead Medic was known for zapping beings who called her puny. She had made her views on that known to everyone.
Determining his gerel’s stances would be more difficult. Nayan had a tendency to evade questions and to lie.
He talked with the males about battles and ships and the devices his gerel had designed while he watched the females, waiting for their discussion to end.
Predictably, his gerel departed as soon as that happened. He left the males’ conversation mid-thought and hurried to catch up with her, exiting the chamber as she did.
“Your medic will discuss the details of the next planet rotation’s procedure with you.” She strode quickly along the hallways of their Warlord’s working structure.
Qulpa’s legs were much longer than hers. He easily kept pace with his gerel. “Did you lie to her also about why you were helping me?”
“I lie to everyone about everything.” She stopped at a set of closed doors. “Our Warlord knows that. He tolerates it because I’m the best.”
She said that with a complete lack of concern.
Qulpa frowned down at her. “You don’t care that you lack honor?”
She looked up at him. Her top lip curled. “Honor is a luxury only certain beings have.” She smacked her right palm on the control panel hanging on the wall.
The doors opened. She walked through them.
He tried to follow her. Lights flashed. Sirens sounded.
He hastily stepped backward. The chaos stopped. She didn’t slow her pace, didn’t turn around, didn’t speak to him. The doors closed between them.
She had escaped him once more.
He glowered at the control panel. It would be a waste of energy to place his hand on it. He doubted he had access.
Though her entry had been authorized and she was wearing a hand covering.
He tried accessing the chamber. The control panel beeped and turned red.
He had been denied entrance.
His jaw jutted. They would continue their conversation next planet rotation. He would receive answers from his gerel.