Nova (60 page)

After what felt like hours, Serros at last relinquished
K’llan’s mouth to bury herself in the thick locks flowing around K’llan’s neck,
her senses suffused by smooth, sweet smelling skin as she traced a path to
K’llan’s throat, then elegant collarbone.

Just as she did with her mouth, Avara’s hands enthusiastically
explored the contours of the Vosaia’s generously curved, sleek body. Fingers
traveled up and down K’llan’s quivering shoulders, back, then hips; expertly
finding and lingering on specific pressure points before continuing their
journey, eager for new discovery.

Finding access hindered, Serros untied the sash of K’llan’s
robe and with a single, swift movement the garment was set free to pool at
their feet, and nothing separated Serros’s touch from K’llan’s warm skin.

Avara could feel K’llan’s breasts against her own through
the thin silk of her shirt as she crushed K’llan still harder to her rapidly
thudding heart. Just as eagerly, K’llan used a single finger to trace the aperture
of Avara’s dress shirt until each micro–mag clip was released and with that,
the Vosaia all but ripped the obstacle from Serros’s shoulders and free of her
body altogether. Feeling her stomach muscles spasm at the contact between them,
Avara groaned as with a determined twist, K’llan slipped Avara’s trousers down
past her hips, and Serros impatiently kicked loose shoes away.

With no obstacle remaining between them and her entire core
shaking with the need to be ever closer, Avara’s mouth traced a path downward,
past K’llan’s collar and to her breasts, lips feather–light and tongue
switching between caressing kisses and persistent, sucking nips that ended with
teeth grazing hardened flesh.

Positioning her thigh between K’llan’s legs, Serros could
feel the slick evidence of arousal. Moving as if through water, only partially
aware that anything existed outside of their bodies within this moment, the two
gradually made their way to the edge of the K’llan’s bed. Immediately after
they fell on the soft covers, K’llan twined her slender fingers in Serros’s
short hair and forcefully gripped Avara’s head so that she could reclaim her
mouth. Her kiss was all fierce passion, driven by a soul–shaking want.

Arms wrapped around Avara’s neck and upper back as the Human
crushed Z’arr’s body underneath her own weight, for just an instant K’llan
pulled away, lilac eyes pools of almost stupefied intoxication, swirling with a
heady mix of love and desire. Silk–smooth voice roughened with unbearable need,
K’llan asked almost fearfully “
Avara
?”

Looking at the face of the person she loved with an
intensity of meaning that both equaled and surpassed basic Human understanding
of the concept, knowing what question K’llan was asking, Avara replied simply,
“Yes, K’llan,” followed by, “
Please
.”

Regarding Avara for the passage of a single heartbeat,
K’llan again moved for Avara’s lips at the same moment that Avara leaned towards
K’llan.

Mouths all but devouring in the passion of contact, both emotion
and thought collided along with the physical exchange. Once more, this time
with all restraint erased as K’llan initiated Feeding, Avara felt everything
that she was, every memory, each belief and value, the very essence of her
psychic and emotional self, completely laid bare and merged with every vital
element that comprised the entire essence of K’llan Z’arr.

Just as K’llan fully offered herself to Avara as Avara did
for K’llan, each individual’s
nya
became indistinct from the other, both
souls irrevocably amalgamated even as their bodies moved in tandem.

Avara’s vision became all bright light and fleeting images
conveyed without sound. With painfully sweet awareness, she could feel the
warmth of K’llan welcoming her home as her fingers slid into place between
K’llan’s thighs at the same moment K’llan similarly found Avara. Moving with
the tide of feeling and physical sensation, time seemed endless, and release
that could never be enough was realized again and again as early night wove
into first morning and finally, late afternoon chased into night again.
Weariness was a fleeting concept in the unfettered bliss of expression and delight
of discovery, each moment of taste and touch unending enchantment, each new breath–stealing
apex of ecstasy claimed leaving them anything but spent.

Instead, every shuddering discharge only increased their
hunger for one another, the sensation akin to a person who had spent a life
well into her twilight years sightless, and was suddenly gifted with the full
panoply of color and form to experience at will.

Finally, though desire still sung through their bodies like
low burning liquid fire, they chose to breathe the stillness of perfect
serenity, of harmony reified. In that tranquility and sweet lassitude, with
their bodies inextricably wrapped within one another, Avara listened to the
beautiful song of interlaced souls that murmured between herself and the
Vosaia.

Avara found herself thinking that whatever tomorrow brought,
this
was her place.
This
was where she belonged.
Here
, as
one with K’llan Z’arr.

 * * * * *

The low–toned, late hour lights of the
Dah’hakar
Class Dreadnaught lent a bloody cast to the walls and durexium grating of the
ship’s interior, almost like the very air pulsed with arteries striving to
support the ship’s gluttonous heart. As the slim form traced a path through the
low–thrumming corridors of the dreaming craft, the ascetic preoccupation with
bloody reds, murky grays, and stark blacks lent an almost primal aspect to
vessel. As if it was borne from an age of blood–ritual and sacrifice, when
dominance and strength in battle were the only coin accepted to measure value.

Oh, everything was well ordered and almost obsessively
clean. There was no residuum of dust to be found, each wall, floor plate,
railing and illumination panel was optimally maintained. Even this late into
the sleep–cycle, every on–duty soldier’s uniform was perfectly pressed and
precisely fitted. Order, hierarchy, position and place all determined by a
strict course of promotion predicated upon individual ability, prowess,
cunning, and the careful application of necessitated brutality.

Slipping through the too familiar pathways of this
particular warship, a shadow cast into darker shadow, revulsion roiled in the trim
figure’s chest like a tide only to be quickly sublimated with ruthless
practice, hidden deep inside behind a psychic wall of opaque stone,
impenetrable. As the figure’s destination came into view, two guards in full
battle armor barred the way, lightning chevrons gleaming proudly on their
pectoral plates.

Yet after the shadow stepped forward into the light, they
keyed a warning to the occupants beyond the portal at which they stood vigil. Within
moments the slim form stepped between the two soldiers, granted entry into the accommodations
beyond.

The adjoining rooms were well–appointed in the sense that
every example of technology, each individual piece of furniture or object, was
crafted with the highest expression of skill and quality. Yet overall the
quarters were utilitarian and sparse in design.

The one nod to beauty for its own sake rather than practical
application, was the expansive view–port that graced most of the far wall of
the main room, providing a spectacular view of the trinary system and cream,
brown, and viridian world that the dreadnaught was currently orbiting. The main
room of the personal quarters and the one that the entry opened into was
clearly a work–space, graced as it was by a sleekly designed desk and a large,
smooth–toned HUD.

The quarters were entirely absent of occupants save for two
individuals of like height and build that stood at the HUD, speaking quietly as
they reviewed the holographic data projections. As the figure walked towards
the two deep in conversation, the comfort of shadow was drained away by the
much brighter light positioned above. Green, yellow, blue, purple, and above
all, orange lights flickered to glinting life from the display.

The slightly taller of the two figures trained her ruby–hued,
hawk–like gaze forward, her strong features further drawing comparison to a
predatory avian, yet the straight–cut lines of jaw and chin were delicate, a beauty
emphasized by unusually lush lips that were currently compressed into a tight frown.
“Report, Operative.”

Kneeling before the two Karukai, the blue–silver hair of her
bent head glinting in the harsh light, the figure informed in a clear voice “The
mission was a success, Master. The target has been eliminated.”

“Well done, Operative Hadarr.” The taller of the two, Captain
Ry’ar Vael commented, pursed lips altering to a faint smile of approval as she
nodded her permission for the Vosaia to rise.

“It is a shame, Captain, that you did not perform as well as
your slave.” The other Karukai announced, and for all her mildness of tone, the
apparent disapprobation was more biting than if she had shouted at full
capacity.

Turning to face her superior, Captain Vael bowed her head,
hand over heart in apologetic submission, then offered “Forgive me, Triarch.
The appearance and interference of the Quorum Shield Operative was most
unexpected.”

Surprisingly, Admiral Artah Vael offered a slight, low–toned
chuckle in response to the younger Karukai’s assertion. “Yes, Niece. Well, it
seems the Human, Captain Serros, makes a habit of being surprising.”

Turning her measuring stare to the Vosaia, who carefully
kept her own turquoise eyes lowered, the Triarch asked “Tell me, Goyan Hadarr,
do you know what your fellow Shield Operative managed to do?”

“No, Triarch, I do not.” Goyan replied.

“Yet I am sure you can hazard a guess, yes?” Admiral Vael
queried, her soft voice pleasant. Yet in those dark, almost sultry, garnet
colored orbs, Goyan could see the test she was be presented with, the trap that
was constructed to lance any vacillation of intent or purpose.

Working hard to find her center, to keep the cognitive
shields and barriers she had grown so accustomed to hiding behind solid and
present, Goyan carefully answered, “Given our present remote coordinates, I
assume Captain Serros was able to deduce the location of one of the Imperium’s
clone production facilities and hinder its usefulness.”

Narrowing her gaze, Admiral Vael commented, “Accurate and astute,
Operative, as I would expect of so valued an Asset.” Hands resting on the HUD table
as she leaned forward to emphasize her next words, the Triarch continued, “However,
the Human did more than hinder. She eliminated the entire crop of almost
matured clone soldiers, one–hundred and seventy–five thousand in total. And,
somehow, half–dead from injury and depravation, she also managed to defeat your
Master in single combat.”

It was
so
hard, but Goyan found that she was able, if
just barely, to suppress the sudden surge of exhilaration she felt at the Triarch’s
announcement.

Catching the murderous look on Captain Ry’ar Vael’s face,
any joy Hadarr felt at the thought of her Master’s defeat turned to bitter ash
in her mouth. The Triarch had just deliberately humiliated her Executive
Officer in front of Ry’ar’s own slave. It was an act contrived to put the
younger Vael in her place and at the same time, inspire her to better
performance in the future.

As brilliant as it was manipulative. And likely to result
in Ry’ar’s exorcism of frustration upon myself, later when we are
unaccompanied.

“Triarch, I swear to you…” Ry’ar began, a blush of rose
sweeping across her paper–pale skin.

“No, do not offer me
words
, Captain, I want acts, I
want
deeds
.” The Military Triarch smoothly interrupted, her voice like
liquid smoke.

“And you shall have them, Triarch.” The younger Vael
fervently vowed.

Relinquishing her stern demeanor, the Admiral remarked, “I
meant what I said, Niece. This Human has indeed proven to be full of surprises.
I wonder if it would have been better to eliminate her when the chance was
readily available.” The Triarch said the last while looking at Goyan, obviously
referring to the Vosaia’s time aboard the
QS Excalibur
.

Seeing in her mind once more the face of Avara Serros, the
resolute, almost idealistic fire of belief the Human Captain carried herself
with, Goyan felt a sudden spear of heartfelt distress at the thought of that
light, that fire, being extinguished.

Then, just as quickly, Hadarr snuffed the sentiment.

That life is over for you. Now there is only the mission,
one more day purchased; that is the
only
meaning which remains.

“No Admiral, I can think of much better use for the Human
than death.” Captain Vael’s words sliced into Goyan’s scathing self–recriminations.

“Yes, yes, your appetites are well known, Captain, but
neither your bedroom entertainment nor the satisfaction of personal revenge are
priority here.” The elder Vael commented.

Disapproval, again.
Interesting.

Flushing once more, the younger Karukai protested, “No Aunt,
not merely personal satisfaction. There is something…
unusual
about this
Human, and she is very highly placed.”

Walking around the HUD and glancing out the view–port in
contemplation, Admiral Vael probed “You mean to make use of her, to turn her?”

“Yes.” The Captain answered, following the Triarch to stand
before the starscape.

Turning to Goyan, the Admiral asked the Vosaia “Do you think
this is possible, to turn the Human?”

Another test.

Does she lie to protect the life of a member of the select
group whose ideals she had formerly sworn loyalty to, before she had turned
traitor to everything except what she held to be most dear? Or does answer
honestly?