In the shuttle bay of the warship, Zakota helped Hierax carry his tools and new materials toward the corridor. Hierax had been banging away inside one of the Zi’i shuttles when Zakota had returned from sickbay. His entire body ached and his head throbbed despite the antiponos he’d taken. Apparently, being electrocuted called for more than painkillers. But after seeing more injured people there, and watching the doctor walk out, Zakota had decided he didn’t need a checkup. Just some rest. When that rest would come, he had no idea.

Orion, Juanita, Katie, and Dr. Tala had already loaded themselves into the less damaged of the two shuttles, the one that hadn’t been fired on by bribed aliens.

“Didn’t know you’d be leaving again,” Hierax grumbled, his arms full. He’d been working on his weapons in the bay, and he wasn’t happy about moving everything while he was in the middle of the project.

His two assistants, Woo and Nax, were replacing hull plating on the damaged shuttle, a job Hierax had delegated. His vast intellect had to go toward building warheads, of course.

In this case, Zakota couldn’t complain about that. Any advantage they could find going in to face the Zi’i was a good thing.

“I don’t know why you didn’t carry everything to the torpedo bays to start with,” Zakota said, aware of time ticking past.

He’d told the captain he was about to pilot Katie, Tala, and Juanita over to the station fifteen minutes ago. That had been before he’d seen Hierax’s mess. Everything was a mess. Getting attacked hadn’t helped anything. Zakota wondered what the captain had done with the sniper after questioning him.

He also wondered if Sagitta thought it was odd that Zakota kept volunteering for shuttle duty. This was something Asan or even Arkyn could handle. But he found himself wanting to spend more time with Katie before leaving. Would they have a chance to say goodbye? He thought of the teary-eyed goodbye Sagitta and Dr. Tala had shared. He couldn’t imagine Katie shedding a tear for him. He wasn’t sure if he would be teary-eyed, either—after all, they had just met. He supposed it was the possibility of knowing her better that he was already missing. And of having her close to him. All right, more than close.

Walking side by side with her to sickbay, her arm around his waist, the heat of her body palpable through their clothing… It had made him forget he was recovering from being electrocuted. His nerves had certainly been working fine as he’d felt her hair brushing his bare arm as he’d rested it around her shoulders. A strange thing to be aroused by, but little tingles had danced through his body every time her head had moved, stirring the strands of hair trailing across his skin. He’d kept having thoughts of stopping, pushing her against the closest bulkhead, and kissing her until she begged him for more.

“Because some of the weapons I designed aren’t going to fit in the torpedo tubes,” Hierax said. “They’ll have to be deployed through other means.”

It took a moment for Zakota to bring his mind back to the conversation. “What other means?” he asked, imagining opening an airlock hatch and tipping a warhead out into space.

Hierax glanced toward the shuttles as they left the bay. “We’ll see how the battle goes.”

Zakota’s logostec beeped at the same time as Hierax’s.

“Uh oh,” Zakota said. It was the captain. He would want to know why there was another delay. “You answer him.”

“My hands are full.”

“I can hold things for you.”

“As if I’d let you touch my tools. Just answer the comm.”

“Here, sir,” Zakota said, ready to cringe. The captain never yelled, but there was never any question about whether he was displeased or not.

“Change of plans,” Sagitta said. He did sound displeased, but maybe it wasn’t with them. “The station has been closed. Nobody else is being allowed in or out.”

“Is everyone all right?” Hierax asked. “Indi? And the other ones?”

Zakota wagered he didn’t know the names of many of the “other ones” and didn’t particularly care about them.

“I’ve checked with them,” Sagitta said. “They’re fine. Station Security has decided to quarantine the station until they’re certain all the people associated with the explosion in the shuttle bay are captured and that there’s no further threat.”

“Uh, do they know that one of the associated people got away?” Zakota asked.

“I’m not sure being locked in our brig counts as away,” Hierax whispered.

“They know we have him,” Sagitta said, and his tone turned dry as he added, “despite certain people neglecting to inform the authorities that they were taking him.”

“This means we can’t take the rest of the women over, sir?” Zakota asked, hoping to head off accusations that he’d participated in absconding with the criminal. “You couldn’t use your reputation or the Star Guardians’ reputation to convince them to make an exception?”

“Perhaps in time, I could, but we don’t have time. Not for bureaucratic nonsense that could delay us for hours. We’re heading for the gate now. Send non-essential personnel back to the Falcon, and tell Hierax to finish up over there. I want him here when we fly through the gate. We may not have time to tether once we’re in Dethocolean space, so figure out now whether you’re piloting the warship or if Asan is. I’m going to send over a combat team to help defend it against boarding. We have to assume we’ll need to take both vessels into battle.” Sagitta’s voice lowered, and Zakota barely heard his added, “And then some.”

“Walk and talk,” Hierax whispered, nudging him from behind with the crate in his hands. “I don’t have much time to get these weapons together if we’re going straight to the gate now.”

“Understood, sir,” Zakota told the captain as he walked toward the lift with Hierax treading on his heels. He switched channels. “Asan? Did you hear the captain’s comm?”

“Yeah. Do I get a vote in what I fly?”

“You’ve spent more time at the helm of the warship than anyone else has.” Zakota had a hard time imagining himself sailing into battle in some alien barge of a ship instead of the sleek fire falcon. The Zi’i craft had great shields and powerful weapons, but it wasn’t his ship.

When Asan took a while to respond, Zakota had a feeling he wasn’t going to like his answer. He stepped into the lift with Hierax.

“I wasn’t very effective against the Scyllans when they came after us,” Asan said. “The warship is clunky, alien, and it’s harder to maneuver than a boulder rolling down a mountain. I would prefer to pilot the Falcon.”

Yeah, who wouldn’t?

Zakota had seniority over Asan and could order him to fly the warship—as primary helm officer, it was his right to fly the Falcon 8 into battle—but the captain hadn’t said he had a preference. And if Asan truly wasn’t comfortable flying the warship… Well, Zakota figured he could fly anything.

“All right,” Zakota said. “I’ll do it. Maybe the Zi’i will be less likely to shoot at one of their own ships.”

“Right, you could get out of the battle unscathed,” Asan said, sounding relieved—and like he was trying to make Zakota feel better about volunteering.

“Report back to the Falcon. I’ll be up shortly to take the helm.”

“That mean you’re not going to carry any more loads for me?” Hierax asked as they walked toward the weapons stations at the front of the ship.

“Get a hand lifter, Chief.”

“Not nearly as satisfying as having minions tote my things along.”

“I thought you didn’t like minions touching your tools.”

“My tools, no, but I’m perfectly willing to let them carry metal ingots.”

“You’re a generous officer.”

“Yes.”

Katie stood with her hands in her pockets, watching Dr. Tala’s back as she strode through the airlock tube on her way back to the fire falcon. Her mutters of “time wasted” and “that man” floated back, just audible over the clanks and thuds of six men checking their weapons and combat armor nearby. A team had been sent over with all their gear, Star Guardians who would defend the warship from forced boardings. There were several dark-haired men that Katie recognized but couldn’t name, along with the green-haired Ensign Bystrom and a blond man with long hair and a trimmed blond beard who looked like a Norse Viking as he walked around with a bolt bow slung over his shoulder. Arkyn, that was his name. She only remembered it because he was one of the backup pilots, someone who could fly around in-system but couldn’t navigate wormholes. If he was staying, Katie supposed her odds of getting to pilot anything were unlikely, not that it sounded like anyone had plans to use the little shuttles in battle.

It looked like Orion was staying aboard the warship too—he stood with the men, trying on extra armor someone had brought for him. Apparently, it was all right for male civilians to go into battle with the Star Guardians.

“We’re going with her, right?” Juanita asked, coming to stand next to Katie and waving in the direction Tala had gone.

“I’m not sure.” Katie glanced at the men, who were completely ignoring both of them. “I think we’ve been forgotten.”

“Tala said sickbay on the Star Guardian ship would be the safest place to be.”

“That didn’t prove to be true when those aliens invaded the ship.”

“Just because they came to get us there doesn’t mean it wasn’t the most protected place on the ship. Look at how many dents they had to put in the door to get in.”

Orion appeared at Juanita’s shoulder, and Katie swallowed her sarcastic reply. He nodded at her, then wrapped an arm around Juanita’s shoulder and drew her aside. No, he was drawing her toward the airlock tube. His head bent toward hers, and he murmured something as they walked slowly toward it. Juanita must not have objected too much, because she slid her own arm around his waist.

Katie felt a twinge of emotion as she watched them. She wasn’t sure exactly which emotion. It was almost like nostalgia or regret as she wondered what it would be like to have someone to lean against and murmur to. Someone who cared if she lived or died.

Oh, she had friends back home, but they had no idea where she was. Maybe they presumed her dead in some mountain ravine. Had anyone called her mother and sister? Probably. The guys at work would have checked around when Katie and Indi hadn’t come in on that first Monday morning. Would she have just been listed as missing? Or would her mother have had a funeral by now? Not that she had much family that would have gone to it. Mom, Mick, and maybe some old Navy buddies, but most of the friends she’d made in the military were still serving and were scattered around the world.

“You better go too,” Orion told Katie, walking back from the airlock by himself.

He and Juanita had kissed before she waved goodbye and disappeared through the tube. Off to sickbay. For safety.

Katie grimaced, not that interested in hiding under a desk or exam table. She would much rather lie in wait somewhere unexpected, a weapon in hand and ready to spring an ambush. Too bad nobody had offered to bring her any combat armor.

“Yeah,” Katie said in vague agreement since Orion had paused in front of her.

He smiled, patted her on the shoulder, and returned to the group of men. They were arguing about the best targets on a Zi’i warrior’s body to kill him.

Katie considered the airlock tube, the path to the fire falcon, and she also looked toward the corridor that led deeper into the Zi’i warship. Did it truly matter where she went? It would be easier for some lowly ensign to keep count of the women if they were all in one place, but Katie would prefer to use her time practicing on the shuttle flight simulator. Or maybe even learning how to fly the warship itself. It wouldn’t be quite as exciting as piloting the sleek fire falcon, but she imagined liking having all that power and mass under her control.

When the men all had their backs to her, she stuck her hands in her pockets again and strolled toward the corridor. She expected one of them to shout at her, or for Orion to come over, sling an arm around her shoulder, and gently steer her to the fire falcon, as he’d done with Juanita.

But their argument had grown quite heated, a debate between targeting eyes and targeting Zi’i genitalia, and nobody noticed her.

“The story of my life,” she whispered.

She slipped into the corridor. She considered heading to the shuttle bay, but Zakota was up on the bridge now—she’d heard he would pilot the warship for the battle. Would he send her away if she showed up there? Or might he appreciate some company?

Even though she knew she had a better chance of being ignored and forgotten if she went to the shuttle bay, she turned into the lift when she reached it. She tapped the glowing bar that marked the bridge level. Would the combat team come up there eventually, or would they stay down by the airlock? She imagined Orion frowning sternly if he found her still aboard. But for some reason, she felt certain Zakota would be glad to see her. He might even spread his arms for a welcoming hug.

The doors opened, and Katie stepped onto the bridge for the first time.

Zakota sat on a makeshift stool in front of a console in the center of the roundish room, his scrimshaw kit spread out over some of the controls. He was carving some alien equivalent of an ivory tusk.

“I see you’re prepared to fly into battle at any second,” she said, walking off the lift.

He blinked in surprise, jumped off the stool, and pulled a flap over his project. “We’re untethering and heading toward the gate in two minutes. Why are you still here?”

So much for a welcoming hug.

“I thought you might want some company,” Katie said. “It’s a ways to the gate, isn’t it?”

“Uhm.” Zakota looked toward the view screen at the front of the bridge—it happened to be focused on the wing-shaped fire falcon. Maybe he was imagining being reamed by his captain. She was on the verge of waving and stepping back into the lift, when he stood up and said, “Only two hours, but sure, come on over. I owe you a piloting lesson, I believe.”

“You’re still going to tutor me?” Katie asked, fingers curling into a triumphant fist. “Even though you know that my skills will quickly surpass yours, as they did in the shuttle?”

“How did you surpass me?”

“It was when you were unconscious. Everyone said how much better my piloting was than yours.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, they would have said that if they hadn’t been cradling your head and being relieved you didn’t have hair to catch on fire.”

He leaned on the stool. “I was going to let you sit here, but now I’m not so sure.”

“It doesn’t look like much of an improvement over the box.”

“I made that box myself.”

“Maybe you should have had Hierax help.”

He stared at her for a moment, and she worried she’d taken the teasing a step too far, but then he grinned. “You are definitely a pilot.”

“This is what I’ve been telling you.”

Zakota stepped aside and gestured for her to take the stool. “What we really need is a chance to race. It’s impossible to compare our skills when we’re taking turns at the helm.”

“And you’re unconscious.”

“Yes, my skills aren’t at their best then.”

“Wuss.” She grinned at him.

It had been a long time since she’d had a fellow pilot to banter with. She missed the camaraderie from back in the military. She also missed having someone gazing into her eyes and appearing to appreciate her humor. Zakota had nice eyes. Expressive. Often crinkling with amusement or the anticipation of delivering some joke. Strange that she hadn’t noticed them earlier. Maybe that was because they came in a package of quirkiness.

Not that a few quirks weren’t all right. She’d met plenty of pilots with them. And his seemed innocuous, as such things went.

“Do you have a girlfriend or a wife?” Katie asked, realizing she had no idea if people in the rest of the galaxy wore rings or got his and hers tattoos or what.

“No, though one of your women friends did offer me temporary solace.”

“Bethany?” Katie guessed. Last she’d heard, Bethany had offered solace to everyone with a six-pack and nice guns—which was basically every Star Guardian.

“Short blonde hair, legs usually around a man?”

“That’s her. Dr. Tala says we’re all dealing with our homesickness in different ways.”

“I asked if she wanted to buy a charm. She said she didn’t have any money, but she had other ways of paying me. And then she grabbed my crotch.”

“Is that an acceptable form of payment?”

“I found it a touch forward and refused it. Besides, it’s too hard to account for payments like that when tax time comes.”

“That’s depressing.”

“That crotch fondling isn’t covered in the tax code?”

“That taxes are universal.”

“I think the Dethocoleans invented them. My people trade fish and ivory with each other and call it even.”

“Sounds like a civilized system,” Katie said.

“My father would have agreed.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Yeah, she liked that. He had nice lips too. Why hadn’t she noticed them before, either? Maybe they hadn’t been standing this close earlier. He hadn’t moved far from the stool after offering it to her. His gaze flickered downward. Maybe he thought she had nice lips too. Or was that a glance at her chest?

He shifted closer, his hand coming to rest on her lower back. She wished she wasn’t wearing her jacket so she could feel the heat of his palm through her clothing. It wouldn’t take much to peel it off. Maybe if she took hers off, he would take his off. Then she could check the status of his abs and his guns. A good girl admired such things before drifting lower, as Bethany would know if she had been raised properly. Such as by books and television in a trailer park.

“Is your combat team likely to come up here?” Katie asked, her gaze snagging on his lips again. He’d inched closer without seeming to move. She rested her hand on his chest, thinking again of jacket removal.

“Not unless they get bored and crave my company.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“It does?” He bent closer, his mouth only an inch from hers. “It happened to you.”

“Only because I wasn’t interested in arguing about techniques for shooting aliens.”

“What does interest you?”

“Piloting.” She licked her lips. “Sometimes pilots.”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you going to kiss me, or am I going to have to grab your crotch to get things going?”

He gave her a wicked grin. “I’d accept that form of payment from you, taxes be damned.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he chose that moment to obey her request, and his lips met hers.

Since he was playful and a bit goofy, she might have expected a playful kiss, or at least a light one, the kind meant as a polite introduction. But he kissed her as if he’d longed to do nothing else for ages, and his hand shifted to her waist to hold her on the stool as he pressed his muscular body against hers.

The intensity surprised her, but it also sparked heat within her, heat that hadn’t flared up so hot and fast in a long time. She found herself kissing him back, hard, hungry. Within seconds, images of them entwined on the console or maybe down on the deck flooded her mind.

As their tongues fenced, stroking and rubbing and making plays for dominance, she shifted her hand from his chest over to the tabs of his jacket. They were easier to undo than buttons, and she soon had the top ones open. She pushed her hand through the flap to the thin tank top underneath, then ran her fingers over his thick, round pecs and down toward his abs, brushing past his taut nipples. She imagined shoving his shirt up so she could lick them. But that would mean moving away from a kiss that was leaving her legs weak and the core of her body burning for more.

She shifted closer to him, touching him with both hands now, fingers roaming and groping. Yes, all Star Guardians did seem to have amazing bodies. Maybe it was an application requirement.

He moved back slightly, and she protested by nipping his lip—she wasn’t done with him yet. Where was he going?

But all he did was push one of her legs to the side on the stool, so he could stand between them. Then he gripped her ass with both hands, pulling her into him—against him.

Yes, that was perfectly acceptable. Amused by their earlier conversation, she reached down and squeezed his groin lightly. His trousers were made of heavy material, but she had no trouble feeling his thick, hard length.

He growled against her mouth and pulled her closer. Their kisses grew heavier, breathier, and she pulled open the rest of his jacket fasteners as he shoved her jacket off her shoulders. She pushed her hands under his tank top, running her nails along the contours of his chest. Then, feeling naughty and bold, she gripped the fastener to his belt. She’d liked what she’d felt so far, but she wanted access to more of him.

A beep came from behind her, from his wrist. His logostec? No, he couldn’t answer now. She tightened her grip and kissed him harder.

But he dragged his mouth away from hers. He groaned, sounding distressed at having to break the kiss, and it was the only thing that made it bearable. For a moment, he looked down at her, breathing heavily, his hands still gripping her ass, his hard cock still pressed between her legs. If they hadn’t been dealing with the obstacles of clothing, would they already be screwing? Katie sure as hell wouldn’t have tried to stop him if he’d shoved her up against the console and slammed into her right there. She hadn’t felt such an intense arousal from a kiss in ages, not since she’d been a teenager almost as horny as the boys she’d dated.

From the way Zakota was looking at her, like he might tear off his wrist device and throw it across the bridge, he felt the same way. Good. She wanted to know he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

The logostec beeped again. With regret in his eyes, he let go of her and stepped back to bring it to his mouth.

“Zakota here,” he said, and she grinned at how hoarse his voice sounded.

She also grinned at the sight of him, his jacket pushed halfway off, his muscular shoulders and upper arms revealed, the outline of his pecs prominent against his gray tank top, the way his belt was unfastened and sagging at his hips. She almost couldn’t believe she’d done that and that she’d brazenly grabbed his cock, but her cheeks heated as she remembered its rigid outline through his trousers, the heavy weight of his balls in her hands. It wasn’t that she was typically shy, but she couldn’t remember ever going from kissing to crotch-grabbing in a minute flat. Well, maybe two minutes.

Still, so much of him was infinitely grabbable. And lickable, she wagered, suddenly wishing she’d had an opportunity to try that. His nipples poked against his tank top, and the urge to shove the shirt up and nibble on them popped into her mind again. Heat flushed more that her cheeks now.

“What are you doing over there, Zakota?” Captain Sagitta asked.

Me, Katie thought.

“Just working with my tools, sir,” Zakota said, finding his usual insouciant drawl.

“Tool,” Katie mouthed and looked down at the bulge in his crotch.

He widened his eyes at her and dropped his hand to cup himself. She got a peek at his taut abdominal muscles and a sprinkling of dark groin hair as his trousers sagged lower.

“Well, get that barge moving,” Sagitta said. “We’re already on our way, and we’re not waiting for you.”

Zakota dropped his hand and looked at the view screen. The fire falcon was no longer in sight.

“Shit,” he muttered and stepped up to the helm and closed the comm channel.

As much as Katie wanted to wrap her body around him, she didn’t want to get him in trouble. The captain already seemed irked with him because of her influence. She eased off the stool and to the side, watching as his hands danced over the console, then slid into the gel pad, a larger one than in the shuttlecraft, but otherwise similar.

“We should probably just, uhm.” Zakota looked toward the view screen instead of at her as he brought the ship around and coerced it into motion, leaving the station at their rear and flying off after the falcon. “Fly.”

“I’m fond of flying.” Katie patted him on the back to let him know she understood. She hadn’t ever intended more than a kiss, anyway, at least not here.

“I’ve noticed.” He smiled at her, but his body was tense. He had quite the hard-on to deal with—as she knew.

“I suppose Zi’i ships don’t come with cold showers.”

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

Katie glanced at the scrimshaw tools spread on the console. “Are you making a luck charm to carry into battle?”

Maybe shifting his mind to less turgid subjects would help him relax. Of course, they could go back to kissing once this ship was set on its course. And more. Some hot, wild sex would help him relax. One really shouldn’t go into battle without some vigorous lovemaking beforehand. What if they didn’t survive the battle? One wouldn’t want to die with regrets of what might have been.

“Actually, I’m making a mess.” Zakota scooped some of the slivers of ivory into a pile and closed up the kit, still not showing her what he’d been working on.

“Not going to try to sell me anything today?”

“I’ve already got your promise of ten orders from your co-workers, remember?”

“Ah, I’d forgotten.”

“I don’t know how. I’ve already invoiced you.” He wriggled his eyebrows.

“How?” She imagined a bill popping up on her phone. But her phone was a glorified notepad at the moment, since she didn’t have cell access, and if the ship had the equivalent of wifi, she hadn’t heard of a way to get her phone to work with it.

“I had it delivered to your cot. I guess you haven’t been back for a nap for a while.”

“No, I’ve been busy.” Katie had no idea what time it was. She’d barely been able to keep track on the fire falcon, and if the Zi’i ship had clocks anywhere, she couldn’t decipher them.

“Yeah.” He gazed at her, like he was thinking of kissing her again, but cleared his throat and looked back to his controls. “My mom isn’t a drunk, by the way.”

“Is that something you like to clear up with women before entering a relationship with them?”

“Only if someone has blabbed his big mouth and accused her of that. I made the mistake of inviting—bribing—Hierax and Treyjon to come on leave with me once when we were in the system with my planet, so they’ve met my family. Mostly, I needed Hierax. Treyjon was just along for the adventure. The generator that lights and heats the buildings on my home island was on the fritz, and my people are independent, so it wouldn’t occur to them to ask for help from the government. But help from a friend of someone who grew up there… that’s all right.”

Katie had no idea why he was sharing this, but she made an encouraging go-on noise.

“So anyway, Treyjon and Hierax have seen my family. My mom was pretty devastated after my father passed away. It was a long, slow sickness. If he’d been willing to go off-world for galactic treatment, he might have lived, but he trusted in the gods and prayer, and he ended up being taken before his time. I was grown by then, but I have lots of little brothers and sisters who weren’t, who still aren’t. Mom had to deal with losing the love of her life and having to take care of all the kids alone, and she’d never been… Well, she’d never been the most stable person, mentally speaking, even when my father had been alive. Some drugs might help her, but she’s as bad as he was. As so many of my people are. They don’t want help from outsiders, and they view the Confederation with suspicion. We were one of the last planets to be added, so we just haven’t had that many generations yet to be fully assimilated. The younger people are far more open to change, for the most part. Maybe one day…” He shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I just wanted you to know. My mom is all right. Just stressed. And I… I feel guilty about leaving sometimes. A lot of the time. But I couldn’t stay. It’s stifling there. You don’t feel free or even like your own man. You’re part of the family unit.”

“I get that. I mean, I don’t have a big family—it was just me and my mom and my sister when I was growing up. Dad left when Mick and I were too young to remember, and Mom had been adopted, and she had a falling out with her adoptive parents when we were kids, so I barely know them.” Katie thought about reiterating that her mom was a drunk and didn’t have the excuses that his seemed to have, at least so far as she knew. “But I get being stifled and wanting to be free.”

“Yeah, I figured you would.” He smiled and rested his arm around her shoulder. It was a natural movement at first, but then he stiffened with uncertainty. “Uhm, is this all right?”

“All right, as in do I mind it? Or all right, as in if we touch, we might end up throwing each other on the deck and engaging in carnal debauchery?”

“Both those things, I guess.”

She leaned against his side. “I can control myself.”

“Good. Me too.” His arm relaxed around her shoulders. “Probably.”

“Just think of your captain comming you to ask what you’re doing with your tools. That ought to have a quenching effect.”

“Yes, almost as good as a cold shower.” Zakota squeezed her.

“Why don’t you tell me more about your family?”

“I promised my father, when he was dying, that I’d look out for them. He wanted me to stay and take his place as the village shaman, and I’d gone through all the training to make him happy, but in the end, I couldn’t commit—condemn—myself to that. I’m not sure it’s enough, but I send my pay back to my mother.”

“The shit pay that’s not much more than you’d get volunteering?”

“Yes. And whatever extra I can make from my charms. Carving is something I loved doing as a boy. I had a book about spaceships that someone had given me, and that’s what I started out carving. But people were more interested in talismans of the gods and spirits, so I made those, and I blessed them. I don’t truly know if it helps, but I like to think that the gods may be more likely to recognize blessed charms and think kindly of those who carry them. Also, I can sell them for more if they’re blessed.” He’d been rather serious while talking about all this, but he threw in a wink now.

“Does that actually work on anyone?”

“Not many on the ship, but sometimes, when I run into one of my own people out in the galaxy, and I tell them who my father was, it matters to them. Maybe they just want a little piece of home for nostalgia’s sake, but they usually seem to value what I’m offering.”

“That’s nice,” Katie said, not having more adequate words. “I mean, that you’re helping your family. Your mom.”

“It’s less about being a nice person and more about feeling obligated.” His mouth twisted. “I’d help, anyway, of course, but sometimes, if I’m not trying hard enough to scrounge up extra money to send home, I get this sense that my father is looking out at me from the land of the dead and frowning.”

“Maybe when your siblings are older, they can take over some of the burden.”

“Maybe. As the eldest son, I’m the one expected to be the head of the household until my mother remarries. If she ever does. Society is satisfied if the younger children can simply take care of themselves.”

“You better survive this battle, then. So someone can keep sending money home to your mom.”

“It does seem like a good reason to live. Though I’ve recently found another reason I’d like to stick around.” Zakota quirked his eyebrows at her.

Katie caught herself meeting his gaze, and that urge to kiss him returned. He hadn’t touched the controls for several minutes, so they were presumably on course, and hadn’t he said they had a couple of hours until they reached the gate?

Perhaps thinking the same thing, he leaned toward her.

But the bridge doors opened, and he jumped back, dropping his arm from her shoulders.

“What’s going on in here?” Orion asked, ambling in with the Norse Viking.

Katie supposed the Vikings hadn’t officially been around when the man’s ancestors had been taken from Earth, but Arkyn looked so much like someone from the cast of the History Channel’s Vikings, she couldn’t think of him as anything else.

Both men carried bolt bows, stunners, knives, and holstered weapons closer in design to guns than bows.

“I’m telling Katie about the invoice I sent her for the carvings she ordered,” Zakota said, propping a nonchalant elbow on the helm.

“With your arm around her shoulder?”

At least his trousers weren’t sagging off his hips. He’d refastened his belt and his uniform jacket when he’d been talking to the captain.

“She agreed to purchase ten,” Zakota said. “I figured I’d better console her for the hit her bank account will take.”

“Ten?” Orion looked incredulously at Katie, which made her decide Zakota had successfully deflected speculation about what might have truly been going on.

“Technically, I told him I could get ten of my co-workers to buy carvings.”

“Do you not like your co-workers?” Arkyn asked, his expression deadpan.

Katie wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not.

“I like to encourage them to be good people by making purchases from worthy organizations,” Katie said. “Last year, the office ordered thirty boxes of Girl Scout cookies.”

“Zakota is a worthy organization?” Orion asked.

“I’m extremely worthy. And organized. What are you two doing here?” Though Zakota maintained that casual stance, elbow leaning on the helm, he looked like he wanted to kick them out.

“The captain told me to be your Ku,” Arkyn said.

Katie didn’t understand the comment, but it must have made sense to Zakota because he responded right away.

“He sent you to sit next to me and pester me with insults?”

“I am up to the challenge.”

Zakota waved toward the side of the bridge. “The weapons console is over there.”

Wordlessly, Arkyn walked toward it.

“What are you here for?” Zakota asked Orion.

“I heard there was a cot up here. I was thinking of a nap before we have to spring into battle. Unless you have plans for it.” Orion arched his eyebrows, his expression taking in Zakota and Katie.

“Not me,” Zakota said. “Asan said it’s been defiled.”

“What does that mean?”

“You would have to ask Hierax for details.”

Orion squinted at him. Maybe he wasn’t up on the latest pairings on the Falcon 8, or, as Indi called it, the Love Boat. She hadn’t been calling it that as often now that she represented one of those pairings.

“This console has been modified,” Arkyn said, frowning at what was apparently his new station. It was a little higher than the helm, and even though he was well over six feet, it came up to his chest. Maybe Zakota would make him a box. “There’s a big red button that isn’t on the schematics I was given to study before coming over.”

“I’m guessing that’s one of Hierax’s additions,” Zakota said. “If he had time to get his weapons done and integrated, I’ll be impressed, but that was his goal, to get a little something special placed in the warship’s torpedo tubes before heading over to do the same for the Falcon 8. I think he was doing some handheld explosives, too, in case we need to board one of their ships. Well, not we. That’s a job for you boys with the big, booming weapons.”

“I will comm him and consult him on it,” Arkyn said, seemingly indifferent to compliments about his weapons.

“Don’t forgot to pester me while you do it. Ku would.”

Arkyn looked over his shoulder at him. “Did the captain say that woman could stay over here?”

Zakota smiled. “He didn’t not say she could stay. Also, good job on the pestering.”

Arkyn frowned faintly and looked back to the console.

Orion had found the cot set up on the far side of the bridge and sprawled out on his back, his hands cradling his head. He must not be worried about defilement.

“As long as we have company now,” Zakota told Katie, “I guess we should do something.”

“Something appropriate, considering our onlookers?”

“Yes. Since Arkyn is learning how to shoot things, why don’t we teach you to fly this behemoth?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”