Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3) (12 page)

“Doing anything tonight to celebrate?” Jan’Hax asked, smiling.

Absolutely beaming, Sam answered, “Khrome and Lily got me crescent mooncake! Tharydane and I will eat it while watching some
Far Side of the Galaxy
.”

“Cake and a sappy space opera,” Liliana mused drolly. “Can’t beat an evening like that.”

“FSG’s a military drama, Lily. Not like that sappy
When Heavenly Bodies Collide
,” Khrome corrected her, drawing stares. Seeing this, the Thulican scowled. “It’s my guilty pleasure. Whatever.” Khrome then began to clap gently again, renewing the ovation for Sam.

Amid the applause and catcalls, Sam looked pointedly at Habraum and mouthed, “Thank you.”

The Cerc, filled with such pride for his longtime friend, held her gaze and winked. Sam shifted awkwardly in her seat as a dark flush stained her olive complexion. Habraum barely swallowed a laugh.

Just as quickly, Sam broke eye contact before anyone caught the charged exchange. But she couldn’t hide her crooked little grin as the applause from her Star Brigade family continued.

“I’m
so
going miss your face,” Liliana Cortes exclaimed forlornly.

“I’m gonna miss your face too, lovey,” Sam agreed, smiling. She had just sauntered out from the War Room. Lily, taller by four inches, kept pace with dainty strides. “Especially now that you’re famous.”

“
Dulce Madre
, don’t start,” the doctor groaned.

“Couldn’t resist.” Then Sam gave her shoulders a friendly squeeze, and was stunned by how
slight
the slender doctor felt. “Liliana Lucia! I swear if you get any skinnier I’ll start shoving whole loaves of bread down your throat!”

“What are you talking about?” Lily glanced at her in surprise. “I eat!”

Sam scoffed. “Not nearly enough.” The two friends exited the Command Center into a pale red corridor, heading east. In passing, Sam spied Habraum and Khrome walking side by side down an intersecting corridor in a visibly heated debate. Unsurprisingly, the squat armor-skinned Thulican did most of the talking.

Liliana also observed, scratching her cropped dark hair in confusion. “What that’s about?”

Sam shrugged, not having to guess. “Khrome’s not thrilled about the face replacing mine on CT-1.”

“Mmmmm.” Liliana flashed one of her shy smiles. “What’s not to like about that face?”

“[What comes out of his mouth,]” Sam replied in Spanish, to keep their conversation private. The face in question belonged to Khaladin Al Abdullah aka “Khal.” “[Yeah, Khal’s a known pompous ass.]” She idly fingered her heartknot necklace. “[But he’s my top intel operative, one of the best I’ve seen. After how well he meshed with CT-1 in training, him taking my spot was a no-brainer.]”

“[I guess.]” Lily glanced down as they continued through the bustling corridor. “[I’ve met Khal a few times off duty. By the Maker, he’s so…]” She blushed, searching for the right words without sounding improper.

“[Knee-bucklingly beautiful?]” Sam finished dreamily. “[And with the best hair ever on a human?]”

“[Exactly!]” Liliana gestured eagerly. “[But after speaking with him for more than five macroms—]”

“[You’re not sure if you want to punch him or ravish him?]” Sam added more frankly.

“[If you say so.]” The prim doctor nodded, unsettled yet unsurprised. “[And if Khal’s ego lives up to all the stories I’m hearing, you’d think he’s packing a pulse rifle in his pants or something!]”

Sam rolled her eyes, a guilty thrill washing over her. “[Certainly
something
.]” She cringed, glancing at Lily.

Confident that the doctor missed the import in those words, Sam regarded her with a pervy little grin. “When I recruited Khal,” she continued in Standard, “I asked if I could run my fingers through his hair.”

Lily gaped in scandalized delight. “You did NOT!”

“It’s me, Lily. Of course I did,” Sam threw back. “And he happily obliged.” Again, both women dissolved into cackles. Liliana’s reaction was expected, but Sam knew her prudish scolding always came from a good place. The doctor was Sam’s nearest thing to a best girlfriend on Star Brigade. But she loved all her ex-teammates—except Marguliese. CT-2 wouldn’t be the same, despite it being her own team.

You have to be their field commander, not their den mother
, Habraum had lectured a few weeks ago.

The twosome soon reached the entry to Star Brigade Intelligence, Sam’s other group.

“I’m off to run more tests on that Korvenite corpse.” Liliana walked past the entrance.

“Great. We doing the thing later on?”

“Totally.” Lily’s tight little smile didn’t reach her beady eyes. “I’ll even get a sandwich!”

“You better.” Sam pointed at her. The “thing” was shorthand for their post-mission ritual of getting late-night drinks. Tonight’s “thing” would be their last as CT-1 teammates, Sam realized sadly. “Pilot Pub? 2130 orvs?”

“Where it all started,” Lily called over her shoulder. “See ya, mama.”

“Bye, sweets!” Sam turned and entered her department’s sliding doors.

Star Brigade Intelligence didn’t boast a large workspace or staff, but both were enough for Sam’s needs. Her eight analysts, all different species, sat at their workstations with dozens of holoscreens open, processing incoming data streams to determine any relevance to Brigade operations.

In the office’s center, deputy director Lhe Joucho—with bulbous red eyes and fleshy wattles dangling from his face—tended to his many tasks. Always wise having a Rhomeran on an intel department. He handled the  daily responsibilities that Sam found boring, which was most of them. A haze of urgency saturated the department at varied levels, contingent on the occasion. But Sam always strived for a relaxed atmosphere so her team didn’t become hyper-stressed like in the Hollus Command Center.

“Hey kids,” she called out, sauntering into the office. The group returned her greeting with similar gusto, otherwise a hurried wave of a hand or similar appendage. Sam approached the closest workstation. Its occupant, one of her three active field operators, clacked away at a holoscreen.

“Surje, hullo!” she greeted the Voton ensign amiably and sat at the edge of his desk. After a closer look, her warmth shifted to concern. “What’s wrong?”

Wearing a grey Brigade officer uniform, Surje’s deep-red skin glittered with a fire that Sam recognized as anger. He studied her through pale, pupil-less blue eyes and rubbed the three grey crests atop his head. “There’s a visitor. In your office,” he nodded in disgust at Sam’s closed office door toward the department’s furthest end.

Sam raised a confused eyebrow until she spied the empty workstation right across from Surje. “Ah. Thanks.”

She found him in her chair as if he belonged there, both feet propped up on her desk. The walls on the right of her office were covered with holoscreens pulling the latest intel bundles from UniPol, UIB, and other Union intelligence agencies. Filling the left-hand wall were photos of every combat team Sam had been part of, including her graduating class of recruits. Nonetheless, the most beautiful thing in her office was Second Lt. Khaladin Al Abdullah. To Sam, her swarthy earthborn subordinate resembled a painstakingly carved slab of human testosterone that would appeal to any species. Khal’s clean-cut face was slightly elongated, supporting a sharp aquiline nose, a strong jaw, and cheekbones that could cut Tyberian steel.

Maybe it was just Sam’s imaginings, but Khal’s grey and red lieutenant uniform clung like plastic wrap to his lean and muscular build. Then there was the hair, flowing back and down in sumptuous ebony waves—curly and falling just around neck length. Today Khal tousled his hair a bit for a more windswept look, which worked like magic. Even Sam caught herself zoning out on him.

Christ, this one’s delicious,
she couldn’t help but marvel, steeling herself behind a professional mask. “Privacy Mode,” she commanded as the door shut behind her. “You lost, Lieutenant?”

Khal swaggered up to his feet as Sam approached. He stood about over half a head taller than her. “Never,” he scoffed, his accent hailing from the Arabic nation of Nahrain on Terra Sollus. “Been waiting for you, Sam,” Khal announced lazily, always smirking. From afar, his eyes looked black. Up close they were a gorgeous dark grey and brimming with arrogance. “Looking lovely as always,” he added, brazenly peering down the décolletage of Sam’s hoodie.

Sam followed his gaze with an exasperated chuckle. Thank God no one else was around, particularly Habraum. “If not for that pretty face.” She grabbed Khal’s chin and jerked it up so their eyes met. Moving around him, Sam plopped into her seat. “Latest on the Children of Earth. GO.”

“You’d be pleased with my work,” Khal boasted, practically high-fiving himself. He leaned against her desk so they were facing each other. “It’s in a class all by itself—”

“Jerk off to yourself later,” Sam cut in, blunt and brisk. “Get to the point now.”

Khal exhaled and reached back melodramatically toward Sam’s desk. At first look, he seemed to be stretching. Until a paper-thin 6” datapad quivered on the transparent desk and flew right into Khal’s waiting hand.

Sam rolled her eyes. Khal loved showboating with his telekinesis.

“According to the info from Khrome’s tracker, Kingston Reyes is still in the Conuropolis sewers,” Khal stated, all business now. He typed something on the datapad. “Tailing his movements won’t be an issue once he moves or tries contacting another CoE cell.”

“UniPol’s getting nothing from the hostiles we captured,” Sam said, running her fingers across her pulled-back locks. “Reyes, UniPol’s spies, and Addison Raichoudry’s info dumps are now our best avenues.” Sam folded her arms across her chest. “What if Reyes escapes from Terra Sollus?”

“Already covered.” Unlike Surje, Khal’s confidence remained steadfast to a fault. “I had UniPol insert him into the Terra Sollus criminal databases, meaning he can’t take one step on Terra Sollus’s surface without being nabbed by authorities. I also flagged him on the Aerospace Security Agency’s ‘Do Not Fly’ database for all Terra Sollus’s spaceports. And if he does manage to get offworld, I had UniPol mark him a fugitive at every habitable world, moon, outpost, and commerce station in the Rhyne System,” Khal continued. “He’s trapped.”

“W-O-W.” Sam nodded in satisfaction. “That’s a mouthful.”

A smarmy grin spread across Khal’s handsome face. “So the ladies keep telling me.”

Sam snorted, knowing she walked right into that. “Charming. Look, Khal—” With those last two words, her demeanor frosted over. “Ease up with that innuendo shit when you’re on CT-1.”

“Whaaaat?” Khal frowned. “Now my phrasings bother you?”

“Personally I don’t give a shit.” Sam raised her hands as if stopping traffic. “But Captain Nwosu isn’t me. So don’t be a dumbass. Understood?”

Khal rolled his eyes, but still nodded in compliance. “Yes, Captain.”

“My name...not my title,” she reminded him gently, resting a hand on his lower thigh.

Khal glanced down at her hand with a strange look. “Yes…
Sam.
”

“As for CT-1,” Sam’s voice dropped an octave lower, grew a little bit huskier, “next mission is your first with them.” The captain walked her fingers up the length of Khal’s thigh, unhurried and sensual.

That wiped the smirking arrogance off Khal’s pretty face. Sam saw that pulse rifle instantly stiffen beneath his pants, satisfied by her power over him.

“How can I forget?” Khal sounded eager, breathless. “Am I authorized to—”

“Not yet.” Sam looked up at him through her eyelashes with a lopsided grin that smoldered. “For your first few missions you observe, you integrate with the team, and you follow Habraum’s orders. Then report everything back to me, unfiltered.” She dropped her voice to a throaty whisper, giving his leg a slow caress, “When the time’s right, you’ll get my signoff and the necessary support.” Her fingers crept over Khal’s manhood, about to slip down his pants. “Plus the rewards we discussed.”

Sam heard Khal’s breath hiss through his teeth, saw his neck muscles tighten with anticipation…

…and promptly pulled her hand away from Khal’s leg.

He popped off the desk, rage twisting his features. “Oh, come ON.”

“Not until the job is done. Now get out,” Sam chided, curt and hard. “I got business to handle.”

“What kind of business?” Khal pressed in acid tones.

“None of yours,” she threw back and shooed him away.

Once she was alone, Sam felt a wild urge to claw her own skin off. But the disgust was more self-directed. She slumped in her chair with closed eyes. Khal had always been swaggering and willful, forcing her to keep him in line with methods some might consider questionable. Even now, Sam saw the CT post getting to his head.

It almost made her regret picking Khal as her replacement. Almost.

I’m doing this for Star Brigade
, she reminded herself again. Sam’s Brigade family meant everything to her. Khal, loose in morals and insatiable in ambition, knew what he’d signed up for. A tool for an unpleasant task. Any bribes from Sam to see that task through were unavoidable evils, regardless of how it rotted her insides.

She opened her eyes with a ragged sigh before plunging into surveillance reports, returning transmissions, and other sorts of managerial monotony. After twenty macroms, Sam was mentally fried and ready to escape.

Outside her office, the intel department ran smoothly as usual, the air filled with a stampede of fingers clacking away on holoscreens alongside short bursts of muttered exchanges. Khal was back at his workstation mouthing off at Surje, who jawed right back with a heated red glow. Macho posturing aside, no one could ever mistake these two as friends. Sam, however, rather enjoyed their little rivalry of professional one-upmanship.

As long as things don’t get violent.
Sam smirked and left the department.

One long translifter ride later, Sam strode purposefully through the well-lit hallway of Hollus’s living quarters where only Star Brigadiers resided. The second level was reserved only for Brigade higher-ups, herself included. She undid her pulled-back hair and shook it out, waves of tousled blonde spilling past her shoulders.