Chapter Sixteen

Dresk rumbled a welcome rather than a warning an instant before a boy walked into view. The child paused and looked at Conyod.

"Flist." It was one of the boys who regularly visited the ranch for riding lessons, the child who'd recently lost his Nobek father. He lived miles away. His expression was a disturbing mix of agony and desperation. Conyod approached him. "What are you doing here so far from home?"

"Are you searching for the crashed shuttle? I know where it is."

"What? Where?"

Flist pointed vaguely. "I'd better take you…it's hard to reach, I think. I saw it in the distance, but I couldn't find a path to them. I tried. I tried." His lower lip trembled, and tears filled his eyes. "Why can't I ever help? They'll die too because I can't do anything."

Conyod went to him and knelt. He held the boy's trembling shoulders. "You are helping, Flist. You found them, you found me, and we're going to help those people now."

He spoke into his com. "Hey, it's Conyod. I have Flist here by the Pinnacle, and he said he saw the crash site. As soon as I have a specific heading, I'll relay it to you. Standby."

Conyod picked up the child, noting how small and light he was. "Dresk, let's track!" he called, and the kestarsh trotted to him. Conyod swung up onto his back, setting Flist in front of him.

"Okay, my young friend. Show me where they are."

They rode perhaps fifteen minutes over some of the most treacherous terrain Conyod had dared. Flist suddenly pointed to a ridge, beyond which Conyod knew to be a deep crevasse. "They're down there, in the crack behind the high part. All I could see was the tail of the shuttle."

Conyod whistled. It was a bad spot to have landed, hard for even the worthiest kestarsh to get to. No wonder Flist hadn't been able to venture closer to the site. "If they survived, they'll have you to thank for it. It might have been days before rescuers would have gotten to that area." He quickly relayed the information to the search parties, which he'd been keeping apprised of his progress so they could arrive sooner.

"We're on our way." Sletran's voice was welcome, as was Tuher's confirmation his fathers were also hurrying to the crash.

"Good job, Conyod." Vel also joined in, pride in his tone.

"All the credit goes to our young friend, Dramok Flist." Conyod stopped transmitting and told the child, "Though I can't say I approve of your wandering such a dangerous place. You could have been injured."

"I wanted to do something when I heard a shuttle crashed. I felt I had to."

"Because of your father?"

The boy began to softly cry. Conyod hugged him and let him have his grief. He wondered if Flist's broken heart would find peace if they managed to find anyone alive in the crash.

* * * *

There were screams of joy and sobs of relief two hours later as the rescue parties returned with four of the five survivors of the accident. The fifth had been bundled in an emergency vehicle for transport to the local hospital due to the seriousness of his injuries…but the initial examination left medics certain he'd recover. The other victims had been treated for superficial wounds and released at the hastily erected medical camp at the foot of Mount Evar.

Flist's parents were at the ranch, waiting alongside the families of the shuttle occupants. They rushed forward as Conyod eased their son to the ground. "He's fine. He's a hero," the Imdiko grinned to the exclaiming trio, who hugged their son while simultaneously admonishing and praising him for finding the survivors and alerting the rescuers.

There was an impromptu celebration, as befitted the happy outcome of what could have easily been a horrific tragedy. The downed shuttle, which had lost power due to what appeared to be a faulty engine coupling, had been invisible from search vessels in the air. Flist sighting the tail section had indeed been fortuitous; he'd been in just the right place to spot it. Sheer chance of a grieving child's wandering route had saved lives.

Sletran ignored the Nobek code of imperviousness to sweep Conyod in a hug after he dismounted Dresk. "You did it. You were brave and went up Mount Evar to the Pinnacle."

"Took me forever, didn't it?" The Imdiko snorted at the idea he'd acted courageously.

"What's important is you did do it. Because you were there for that boy to find, those people will live." Erybet added his hug and a kiss before beaming proudly at Conyod. "Don't you dare downplay your role in this."

"You faced Evar and you beat it." Sletran beamed at him.

Conyod glanced at the brooding peak and considered it for several seconds. "I still hate it," he decided. "I hope there's no reason for me to ever go back there…but I have no fear of it. That counts for something, I suppose."

"Losing your fear of where Hoslek died works for me," Sletran said. "It's haunted you long enough, and I'm glad if you can let it go."

"I hope Flist will let his pain go too," a deep voice mused behind them.

Conyod turned to discover Vel had come close. The small group regarded Flist and his parents. The child was actually smiling. It wasn't a big smile, but more than Conyod had witnessed him manage on the few occasions he'd seen him.

"I worried how he'd react if the shuttle's occupants were found dead. He carries unnecessary guilt for the loss of his Nobek father, so I kept him away while the rest of you went down the ravine." Conyod had struggled with allowing the boy to go as close as they had, but Flist would have heard the news, good or bad, later anyway. Who would have been better than a psychologist to take care of him if another shock had been dealt?

"They made it alive, so perhaps our ghost boy will stop wandering to the ranch and on the mountain. Maybe he'll finally put his guilt over his father's death to rest," Vel sighed.

Conyod, Erybet, and Sletran regarded him in surprise. "It was him haunting the stables? You knew? He'd have walked miles to reach the ranch," Conyod spluttered.

"I discovered who it was during his last nighttime visit a few weeks ago. I took him home to his parents, who had no idea he was coming to visit Yemasel in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep." Vel chuckled, but it was a sad sound. His gaze met Conyod's. "Those kestarsh…they've always been the haven of grieving boys who feel they have no one else to rely on."

"I can understand why Flist would do so, but I'd asked to sleep in the stable before Hoslek disappeared," Conyod told him. "Grief wasn't required for me to want to be close to them."

"I wasn't referring to the desire of a child to sleep somewhere novel. Remember, there was a ghost boy several years ago, before Flist was born. Except you spent as much time standing by the corral staring at Mount Evar as you did in the stable."

"Me? I never left the house at night. You kept me from doing so because Mother would have had a fit. All of you would have."

"If we'd known. I had my suspicions when the ranch hands started talking about a ghost boy wandering the place, so I stayed up several nights to stand guard. There was finally a night, a couple hours before dawn, when I witnessed you leave your room, shut off the home's alarm system, and walk outside. I called your name and asked what you were doing. You looked right through me."

"What?"

Vel uttered the sad chuckle again. "You were sleepwalking. I know you remember waking during a few of those episodes."

"I do, when I was in my teens. There were other times?"

"Many, after we lost Hoslek. I had no clue how to cope, so I followed you. I watched you stare at the mountains. Sometimes you'd call for Hoslek to come back. It tore my heart to pieces to hear you do so. Afterward, you'd usually go to the stable, pet the kestarsh, then return to bed."

"Those sightings went on for years." Conyod gaped at him. "You never said a word."

"Again, I had no idea how to cope. You were suffering. Barely eating. I worried if I told you, it would make you worse. I didn't dare tell my clanmates what was happening, especially Lafec. They would have gone crazy."

"You knew who it was all along."

"I told myself if I watched over you when you wandered and kept you safe, it was okay. I was probably wrong to let you go on that way but…this family was on edge. I was desperate to keep us from falling completely apart, my son. My only surviving son. If it was a disservice to you, I'm sorry."

Conyod stared at him. He saw Vel's undying grief, his constant desperation to keep the sole child left to him safe from harm. He realized no amount of therapy or counseling would transform Vel's behavior.

It'll probably never change Mother either. Neither recognizes their actions as harmful through the filter of their loss. I can't alter what happened…I'll have to live with it. Just like they must live with me trying to escape their smothering fears.

He managed a smile for his father, who was caught in a mire of overwhelming love that harmed its subject as much as it tried to help. "I'm glad you told me. Thank you."

Vel dipped a nod.

Erybet broke the stretch of awkward silence. "What happens to Flist now? Have his parents looked into counseling for him? I've met a guy who's pretty damn good at that sort of thing." He grinned at Conyod.

Their soft laughter eased the tension. Vel said, "I suggested Conyod, but the distance is far for them to travel regularly. They found someone closer. They also took me up on my offer to have Flist come to the ranch starting next week to learn to train and exercise the kestarsh under my guidance. He's welcome to visit as often as his studies allow. I have a feeling he'll be here every day."

The group considered the boy, who'd entered the corral. He stood next to Yemasel, his head pressed to hers, his arms around her neck. The small smile he'd discovered remained. Conyod saw peace there.

He thought it might be the same long-sought peace filling his own heart.

* * * *

Four months later

"They'll be deployed off-planet for weeks at a time since they're part of the ground troops. If there's a war against Bi'is or the Tragooms step up their incursions on the empire, they could be gone for months."

Conyod let his mother's complaints wash over him, his attention steadfast on the happier sounds of celebration following the formal ceremony in the grand hall of the military base. He wasn't grouchy she carried on despite it being too late to change the fact he was Imdiko Conyod of Clan Erybet. It was all he could do to keep from laughing.

Laughing would have been far worse than arguing with Lafec.

He knew the urge came from sheer happiness, not because he found his mother ridiculous. He had the perfect clanmates in Sletran and Erybet. He'd won the lottery where good fortune was concerned. How could he ward off giddiness when his dreams had come true?

"Are you hearing what I'm saying, my son? You'll be alone." She said it as if it were a death sentence.

"I'm aware, and I've made my peace as far as the situation is concerned. Many clans are like ours. In fact, I work at the hospital alongside the Dramok clanmate of their commanding officer. Dr. Kivokan has gone through many such separations when High Commander Akrij is on deployment. Kivokan's offered his support when Erybet and Sletran go off-planet for a tour." Conyod nodded toward the high-ranking clan who'd honored them by attending the ceremony.

"I don't like it. Vel will be coming to check on you." Her mouth was set in a straight line.

"I'm sure he will." Conyod had already resigned himself to his Nobek father's frequent visits.

He noted Tuher coming their way, his gaze fixed on Lafec. Conyod thought of signaling he was okay dealing with his mother but decided against it. He wanted to go to his clanmates, to bask in the joy of being their Imdiko.

"My Matara," Tuher said upon reaching them. "Erybet's mother has been looking for you. She said she hasn't had the opportunity to speak to you yet."

Lafec scowled at him, no doubt realizing he was diverting her from their son. At her Dramok's level gaze, she gave in. It helped she and Erybet's mother got along so well. "Where is she?"

"By the refreshment table. I think she's found a bottle or two of prime bohut and is fending off everyone else so you, she, and Sletran's mother can enjoy it in some private corner."

A smirk tugged at Lafec's lips. "The woman knows her bohut. I'm glad she took charge of the reception's beverages. I need a strong drink or seven." Her glare skewered Conyod as she headed off. "I'll see you much later, my Dramok."

Tuher chuckled and whispered to his son, "She probably won't see me or anything else until the morning after she's slept it off. I'd better have the pain inhaler and stim tabs ready."

"I'm sure you laid in a supply in honor of my clanning ceremony." Conyod kept a straight face.

Tuher regarded him, amusement fading. "It's hard for us to give up on the hope you'd come home to stay. My head says it's good, but my heart breaks."

"I love Erybet and Sletran, my father. I enjoy training the kestarsh, but my work as a psychologist is what fits me best. It's what I need to do."

"You're where you should be. Perhaps one day, I can come to accept it. Sema might too. Vel and Lafec…" He shrugged.

"I understand." Impulsively, Conyod hugged Tuher. "I love you all. I hope you realize it."

His father's grip on him was strong. "As long as we have your love, we'll manage. I may not be the best father, but I'll be the best I know how. You have my word on it, my son."

* * * *

"I think it went well," Conyod said when his clan returned to their well-furnished quarters, which had once been Erybet's alone. "The food was perfect, we didn't run out of liquor despite our mothers' impressive attempts to drink it all…" he paused, grinning as he waited out Erybet's and Sletran's laughter. "And I wasn't kidnapped by my parent clan."

"They made no attempt to murder me and Sletran either," Erybet chuckled. "The ceremony and reception were absolutely a win."

"Clan Tuher will eventually come around," Sletran said as he pulled off his dress boots and wiggled his toes in obvious relief. He opened his dress uniform's top, displaying his impressive chest.

"So optimistic," Conyod sighed, but he was pleased at how the day had turned out. "Clan Erybet is publicly recognized, and no one can do a damned thing about it."

"Can you relax now?" Erybet rubbed his shoulders and nuzzled his cheek.

"Maybe." Conyod smiled at him. It did feel as if a weight had rolled off…his Dramok's massage certainly helped the notion. When Erybet's hands slid to his waist and drew him in an embrace from behind, the Imdiko sank in the warmth and comfort of it.

Against the odds, he'd overcome his childhood trauma and claimed the perfect clanmates. Wanting to submerge himself in the knowledge, he held his arms to Sletran. Smiling, the Nobek came to him. His arms circled Conyod and Erybet.

"Thank you both," Conyod said.

"For today?" Sletran asked.

"For all of it. You, for rescuing me when I was a kid and putting up with my infatuated neediness. Erybet, for giving the three of us a chance."

Erybet snickered. "Once I understood what I had a chance at, you two would have been worth fighting through any obstacle. Those kestarsh, on the other hand, especially Adwal…"

Conyod laughed. "Maybe they'll come around when my parents do. Hey, Dresk likes you. That definitely counts."

"I'll take it."

They fell quiet. For a while, the trio simply stood there in the great room, holding each other. They basked in their union, which had seemed so impossible at times.

Conyod hoped his joy would last forever. How could it not, with Sletran and Erybet as his lifemates?

It got better as his lovers began to explore his body, as sentiment heated to sensuality. Conyod returned the favor, twisting one way, then the other to experience them both. He reveled in his beautiful and commanding Dramok, in his strong and protective Nobek.

The dress uniforms and his nice outfit of a deep green shirt and black trousers fell from them to scatter like leaves on the ground once his shiny black shoes and Erybet's boots thumped free. Their mingled arousal scents rose to enhance the atmosphere of eroticism as excitement grew. Mouths were hot on bared flesh, and moans woke the air.

"Sleeping room," Erybet finally mumbled against Conyod's lips.

They reeled and stumbled and laughed at their reluctance to cease fondling long enough to walk the few feet to the doorway. They didn't so much lie down as fall on the bed, where they twined as if to knot themselves together so they might never be torn apart.

At length, Sletran and Conyod teamed up to pin Erybet. Knowing his supremacy versus either of his controlling clanmates was short-lived, Conyod took every advantage he could of the moment. He drowned himself in the beautiful man he could scarcely believe was his forever, licking and kissing the struggling Dramok wherever he could reach. His lips traveled his lover's throat and paused at the hollow where his pulse beat strong and steady. His tongue traced Erybet's pebbled nipples, rendering their points stiff. Letting Sletran take hold of Erybet's wrists, Conyod wandered downward, convincing his clan leader not to fight being on the bottom so strenuously by sucking throbbing, burning flesh. He fed on the sweet-spicy wetness that rewarded his efforts, then swallowed until Erybet groaned.

Ever devious, the Dramok lay lax under Conyod's ministrations. Sletran grew careless. Erybet abruptly heaved loose of both men. Concentrating his attack on the surprised Nobek, he quickly gained the upper hand. Conyod, happy to have the opportunity to enjoy his warrior clanmate, switched to fight on Erybet's side. Sletran growled halfheartedly, already enthralled by the benefits of Conyod's eager mouth and tongue. The Nobek succumbed more readily as Erybet kissed him.

The Imdiko had tricks of his own. Erybet stretched over Sletran, pinning his wrists on either side of his head. The position placed his erect shafts next to the Nobek's, allowing Conyod to switch between the two men as whim dictated. Erybet had no choice but to let his youngest clanmate play and tease if he were to keep Sletran under control.

Tease, he did. Conyod had grown familiar with how much pressure to use, how fast to go at them to bring them to the brink; then how to ease off to thwart passion's victory before it was too late. He soon had them writhing, groaning, and growling.

He was merciless as his own desire fed on theirs. He tasted Erybet's sweetish-salty pre-cum and compared it to Sletran's slightly spicier offerings. He sucked eagerly on their jerking forest of cocks, moving among the four shafts served to him like an endless buffet. He felt how their pulses beat on his tongue from the thick veins on their lengths. His fists curled around two at a time, pumping them so their hips jerked and they cried out. They jolted in excitement when he carefully threatened by nipping, just enough to give them thrills of dangerous play…though their trust was plain when they failed to battle to escape.

Mine. Forever.He bit Sletran's inner thigh harder to leave a pink oval, marking him. Still trapped by Erybet's commanding hold, the Nobek snarled, his features bestial from animal delight.

Conyod courted trouble when it came to a control-happy Dramok, but he couldn't resist the urge to do the same to Erybet. His domineering clanmate hissed and told Sletran, "His turn."

"Agreed."

Conyod didn't try to avoid being overcome. He'd had his fun tormenting the pair, and the time had come to do what an Imdiko did so well: take care of his clanmates by giving them what served them best. The fact having his ass spanked by Erybet while Sletran held him prisoner was what was required made no difference. The warmth of the punishment for daring to mark his Dramok only enhanced his arousal. His cocks, swollen despite having been touched little, grew more engorged as he was taken to task. He felt more the joy of being the center of their attention than the painful swats from Erybet's heavy palm.

Discipline took a turn for the erotic. Sletran, whose weight on his back held him curled facedown on the mat with his ass in the air for Erybet's attentions, grabbed his primary and stroked. Conyod shouted as desire amplified, turning the smarting pain of the spanking to exquisite bliss. The calloused hand worked him mercilessly, and he was abruptly in danger of shattering.

The timbre of his moans warned Sletran when exactly to let up. He gripped the base of Conyod's primary, denying the eager slide of cum seeking to erupt. Conyod wriggled desperately, his body begging for the lightning strike of ecstasy he knew he couldn't have yet.

"This dancing ass wants to be fucked," Erybet grunted. "Keep him where he is, my Nobek."

"On the edge of coming? No problem." Sletran's chuckle was evil.

Erybet ceased spanking. His legs shoved between Conyod's. The Imdiko had only an instant to yield to invasion before his clanmate shoved in deep. The slick hardness running up the crack of his ass as he was filled told him Erybet fucked him with his smaller secondary.

It isn't that damn small.He groaned at the burning strain of taking the thick girth. Then he yelped as it rubbed against his cumspot, sending a surge of rapture straight to his cocks. Sletran's grip kept roiling passion from escaping.

"Naughty…naughty…naughty…Imdiko," Erybet gasped, each word punctuated by a thrust.

Conyod gathered the threads of his senses and defiantly bellowed, "I regret nothing!"

Surprised laughter exploded from his lovers. The added weight on his back told him Erybet had collapsed on top of Sletran as he laughed.

Blanketed by the pair, Conyod was shaken by their continued amusement. He grinned, unseen by his chortling clanmates. Who said sex had to be serious? Better yet, it gave him a moment of breathing room from the overwhelming craving he couldn't release.

"You lunatic," Sletran panted as he recovered. "What are we going to do with him, Erybet?"

"Fuck him senseless and keep him happy?" The pressure on Conyod lessened and the thick shaft in him shifted as the breathless-sounding Dramok rose.

"Best therapy in the world," Conyod confirmed, setting off added chuckles.

"Never let it be said I don't follow doctor's orders."

Erybet's hips rocked, feeding Conyod's ass his excitement. Sletran resumed masturbating him, and amusement fled before a tide of electrifying sensations, especially when Erybet found the perfect angle to apply friction to his cumspot. They kept at him until his soft cries warned them. Sletran clenched the base of his primary, and Erybet slid loose. He spanked Conyod once more, demanding the young man control his lust.

Then he was in him again. His larger shaft filled Conyod. There was no escaping the exquisite friction of the greater girth rubbing where craving lived. The Imdiko beat his fists on the mat as his Dramok rode him hard and Sletran continued to block him from orgasm.

"Going to fill…this tight hole…with my cum," Erybet gasped. "My Imdiko…my Conyod…always…"

A groan exploded from the Dramok as Conyod wailed rapturous frustration at his inability to join him in passionate release. His primary throbbed in time to the rod pulsing in his ass, but his Nobek's grip kept him from realizing climax.

"Fuck. I love you so much, you beautiful man. Both of you," Erybet sighed a minute later. His fingers combed through Conyod's long spill of wavy hair, then traced the line of his spine to where he was embedded in his clanmate.

Despite his erotic suffering, Conyod's entire being warmed at the words and the feeling with which they were spoken. He was just as happy Sletran had been included.

"If you love me, then get out of the way before I explode," Sletran teased in a voice gruff from unhidden emotion.

Erybet chuckled. There was the sweet sound of the pair sharing a kiss, then the Dramok pulled free of Conyod.

It was the clan leader's turn to grip the base of Conyod's larger cock to keep his youthful lust under control as Sletran took his place between his thighs. The Nobek's grasp moved to his neck, pinning him as Erybet squirmed beneath their trapped clanmate. Conyod felt the rough wetness of Erybet's warm tongue lap the tip of his aching shaft and moaned.

"There we go," Sletran sighed as he eased in. His groin bumped Conyod's ass. "That's just what I need."

What about what I need?Conyod was incapable of speech as Erybet's mouth enclosed him in the most delicious of kisses. A small voice beyond the clamor of desperate hunger purred its satisfaction that he was getting what was important: the ability to serve the pleasure of his lovers, to give them all he was capable of.

Sletran started slow, breathing soft whispers of his appreciation for the incredible sensation of fucking his Imdiko. Though the Nobek code forbade him from speaking what he was expected to demonstrate, the statement I love you was in every syllable he uttered. Conyod basked in boundless joy despite the delicious torment of Erybet sucking his trapped primary.

Little by little, Sletran's gentleness abated as carnal demand took hold. His flesh slapped Conyod's spanked ass loudly, delivering renewed intensity rather than pain. The constant friction on the Imdiko's internal hotspot, along with Erybet's tireless lips, tongue, and insistent swallowing, was gorgeous torment. Conyod strained against his beloved torturers and begged for mercy.

Only when Sletran's steady pace faltered, when his hand on Conyod's neck tightened, when he ground out, "Yes, my Imdiko! Yes!" did Erybet release the practiced grasp keeping exhilaration at bay. He drew Conyod down his clutching throat. Then all was thunder and lightning, an explosion of brilliance in which Conyod was lost.

His existence was a throbbing ecstasy that clawed every mote of strength from him in shattering bursts. Conyod dissolved in the maelstrom, the sense of himself vanishing in the vast cosmos where only pleasure dwelled.

Then, rapture ebbed. Conyod didn't try to hold onto it because it was replaced by a deeper, better joy: the feeling of his clanmates surrounding him. Their whispers and caresses reassembled what had been shattered, making him whole.

He was whole he realized as he smiled at the two men who'd come to mean everything to him. Scarred by his past, but complete. Love had broken him when he'd lost his brother and, in a sense, the parents he'd known. Now love had put the fragments together again. He was Imdiko Conyod of Clan Erybet, in one imperfect but entire piece, thanks to his Nobek and Dramok.

"Thank you," he whispered? knowing mere words would never express the depth of his gratitude.

"Always," they chorused, their gazes telling him they understood he spoke of matters beyond mere sexual gratification.

Conyod closed his eyes and basked in the moment. He knew life offered no guarantees, but he dared to hope his happiness could last forever.

The End

Don't miss the next book of the Clan Beginnings series, Clan and Conscience:

Fighting murderous enemies. Battling each other. It's the perfect recipe for romance, Kalquorian-style.

On the surface, young Dramok Ospar has it all: money, prestige, power. Yet what he dreams of most is outside his grasp. His drive to prove himself has left him lonely, with no one to turn to…except the Nobek bodyguard who is decidedly unimpressed with his accomplishments. Oh, and there's the matter of the local crime syndicate trying to kill him too.

Nobek Jol faces his worst security assignment ever: guarding the most irritating Dramok to draw breath. It's not that Ospar isn't handsome, intelligent, brave, and charitable. It's just that he'd be so much better gagged into silence.

Temple of Life priest Imdiko Rivek wishes for inner peace and total enlightenment. He knows he won't find it in the lethal world Ospar and Jol inhabit. However, fighting the allure of the pair to achieve perfect tranquility is proving to be more difficult than he could have imagined…plus the fact that their enemies think he's the perfect target to bring Ospar and Jol to heel.

Read on for an excerpt:

Dramok Ospar, general operations director of Itga Mining, blinked at his companion. Dramok Misru was glowing with supernatural brilliance, his face growing brighter.

Not just Misru. A bright flash illuminated the entire cavern of the platinum mine. Startled, Ospar wheeled to find the source of the blinding light. The mine wall he'd stepped away from five seconds ago, where he'd admired a thick vein of platinum, disappeared in a thunderous blast. Machinery and over a dozen men vanished, swallowed in the black billow of dust and rocks. He stared in astonishment.

A blast of air streamed his shoulder-length hair back. Ospar had the strange sensation of an invisible force lifting him off his feet, of a giant warm hand shoving him through the air toward the middle of the cavern.

What? What?

The stone walls, ceiling, and floor shook violently around him as he flew. He was flung through a shower of rock pellets. They stung his face. The thunder of larger chunks pummeled down in the wake of the explosion's boom, sending up a choking billow of dust.

The floor!It came up fast, rocketing toward him.

Ospar winced an instant before he landed. The Dramok hit the floor ahead of the shockwave, thudding painfully. He slid ten feet across the once well-smoothed surface, plowing through debris. When he stopped, he instinctively curled into a ball, his arms flung up to cover his head.

For several moments, all was chaos. The whole of the earth rumbled beneath and about him, as if rousing in poor temper from deep slumber. The vivid work lights installed in the cavern blinked on and off, strobing Ospar's surroundings. It made the stone seem to fall in stop-motion intervals.

A blast. Cave-in! We're going to die!

On the heels of his panicked thought, the shaking stopped. The lights strengthened again, coming to dimmed power as the shudders eased and the grumbling giant quieted.

Ospar remained curled and motionless for a few moments, listening to the larger stones settle, the smaller ones still pinging down. Catching his breath. Counting his blessings. He was alive.

He inventoried his body to reassure himself he could feel everything, and that what he felt wasn't pain. He noted burning hurts on his face, forearms, and hands, the parts of him where the skin had been exposed to the shrapnel. Otherwise, he detected no severe agony and no numbness. The cave-in…he assumed it was a cave-in and discounted his first impression of an explosion…had done him no real harm.

A scream echoed off the cavern walls.

A surge of adrenaline responded to the agonized sound. Someone was hurt. Ospar leapt to his feet. He noticed Misru had ended up next to him, knocked across the room alongside him. The elder Dramok blinked at his surroundings as he shakily came to his knees. A thin line of blood ran from his scalp, the red shockingly bright against the gray dirt covering his features.

Ospar bent and grasped his arm. "Are you all right, Misru?"

"I…I believe so, Director." He gazed up at Ospar uncertainly. "There aren't supposed to be explosives in here."

Ospar dismissed the man's confusion, peering at the mayhem of massive slabs of fallen rock and broken machinery. The conveyor belt used to carry ore to the refinery was a twisted skeleton of metal. The sifting machine feeding it was a crushed hulk. Black dust sifted, making the room appear cloudy and dim. The scream hadn't been repeated. He couldn't spot anything moving except the shifting curtain of semi-darkness. Another threatening rumble sounded, and a slight tremor rose from the floor up his legs. Fear spiked, but he held his ground. Others were present, somewhere.

Someone cried out. "Help! Help!"

Without thought for his own safety, Ospar ignored the warning mutterings of the damaged earth. He dashed toward the twisted metal carcass of what had been a digging machine, where the frantic cry had come from. He jumped over large pieces of rock to reach the vehicle, which had been knocked on its side. The operator was nowhere to be seen, but Ospar was sure it was where the call had emitted from.

He was right. The worker, his bloody features twisted in pain, was pinned beneath the vehicle from the thighs down. Ospar swallowed a cry of horror to see the blood, which wasn't confined to the man's face. It was everywhere.

I'm in charge. This is my mine. This man is dependent on me. I can't fuck up.

The thoughts helped settle Ospar, switching on the decision-making machine in his head. He stopped looking at the carnage and took in the state of affairs as a whole, as the director of Itga Mining.

The trapped Nobek shivered. The mine was indeed chilly, far cooler than the springtime warmth come lately to the mountain regions of the Wenza Territory. However, Ospar feared the worker was going into shock. He whipped off his jacket and covered the injured man's torso, pausing long enough to grip his shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. "Hold on. We'll get you out of this."

The question was, how? The digger was huge, too heavy for Ospar to lift. His mind clicking through possibilities, he surveyed the room for assistance. His gaze fell on the other digger, which had been working another wall. It didn't appear damaged, and its driver staggered from behind it into Ospar's view. He looked dazed, but unhurt. Besides Ospar and the kneeling Misru, he was the sole person moving.

How many had been in the cavern as Ospar was being shown around? A dozen? Two? Many had been standing where the thickest of the rubble now piled. Sickness roiled in Ospar's belly.

Concentrate on those you can find. The men you can help. This Nobek first. Manage this situation, then move on to the next.

"Hey! Dramok Heca," Ospar called, glad he had a good memory for features and names. "Are you hurt?"

"I…I think not too badly. Is that you, Director Ospar?" Heca stared at him uncertainly though the dust was beginning to clear the air. "What happened? I thought I heard an explosion."

The man at Ospar's feet, Nobek Patlen, groaned. He teetered on the verge of unconsciousness. Misru was only now climbing to his feet, looking dazed and lost. No help there.

Ospar concentrated on the most vital matter. "It isn't important what happened at this moment. Nobek Patlen is pinned and injured. Can you use your digger to haul this one off him?"

Heca's eyes cleared. He hurried over and gazed at the scene with a practiced eye, his concentration jarring for a flash as he recognized the trouble his fellow worker was in. "Mother of All!"

"Heca. Answer me. Can your machine pull this off him?"

"I might be able to. Hang on, Patlen."

Heca rushed to the intact digger and jumped in the cab. A second later it fired up, its drone surprisingly quiet for such a large machine. It still drowned the growing chorus of moans from other unseen victims.

"Stay ready to yank him loose in case I lose hold of it," Heca shouted to Ospar.

Ospar squatted behind Patlen, grabbing hold of the now-unconscious Nobek by the armpits. He set his feet and braced as Heca brought the digger close, choosing the path least littered by rock.

As Heca neared the destroyed digger, half a dozen men burst in through a gaping tunnel opening. They wore the red-trimmed tan security uniforms of Itga Mining. At the head of the group was Nobek Talu, Itga's chief of security. His intense gaze fell on Ospar.

"Director Ospar! What happened?" Talu dashed over. He hurdled the slabs of fallen stone with more ease than Ospar had, though he was more than twice the Dramok's age.

"There might have been an explosion. We have to get this man out of here."

Heca had his digger in position. Talu shouldered Ospar aside. "Let me and my men handle this. Stand back, please."

Another Nobek, his ferocious but handsome countenance intent, took Ospar's place at Talu's side. Itga's director of general operations had no choice but to step aside and watch as Heca threaded his machine's massive drill piece through the top of the broken digger's cab. The drill rose, lifting the metal carcass of its twin to free Patlen's blood-soaked legs. The machine wobbled in the other's grip.

"Quickly!" Talu shouted. He and the younger Nobek pulled the injured worker clear an instant before the busted digger rocked loose and crashed to the stone floor.

A rumble sounded, as if in protest. The floor beneath Ospar's feet shifted, and a sheet of dirt and pebbles flowed from ceiling.

The creases in Talu's brow drove deeper as he handed Patlen off to another member of his team. "Take him to the medical department. Call in emergency services. This is a Code One situation, so be alert. Let's evacuate everybody in here and the next two caverns. Nobek Jol, make certain Director Ospar gets to safety immediately."

Ospar was quick to protest, "I can help."

Talu gave him a level look that managed to be polite and yet said don't fuck with me. "With all due respect, Director, leave or Jol will carry you out. I refuse to explain to the owners why their nephew remained in danger a second longer than was necessary."

Ospar scowled, his temper flaring to be ordered about. Yet he couldn't fault the head of security for doing his job. Talu had been employed by Itga since its start. He had been a familiar presence for the majority of the young Dramok's life. Ospar's rank wouldn't deter Talu from making good on his promise to have somebody lug him from the mine.

The brooding Nobek Talu had nodded to was the one who'd aided him in pulling Patlen from danger. Nobek Jol looked eager to obey his supervisor. His purple eyes riveted on Ospar, hands flexing in anticipation of grabbing the director and hauling him off.

Ospar gave in, but only because arguing would slow Talu's rescue effort. The men under the debris were the priority, and he wouldn't chance their lives on his pride. It failed to keep him from scowling as he marched from the scene. He paused to wrap his arm around the shattered-looking Misru to lend support, though the mine's supervisor appeared to be regaining his wits.

Ospar could feel his unwanted security escort on his heels. Like most Nobeks, Jol was silent. No matter. Ospar had known his share of the deadly breed. He didn't have to hear or see the security guard to be assured he was there.

* * * *

In Misru's office, Jol watched as Ospar examined the shaken mine supervisor's injuries. Misru's aide Imdiko Rost hovered over them, but the Nobek paid him little mind. He found it was easy to dismiss others in Ospar's presence. The man exuded authority, even covered in grime.

Itga Mining's director of operations, the nephew of the company's owners, was usually a handsome man. Jol had seen Ospar from time to time at headquarters. He knew the Dramok for the easy grin he wore, an expression that came as if it were second nature.

Charmingwas the word many used to describe Ospar. A bully, his detractors claimed.

The man's attractive features and warm grin were presently nowhere in evidence. Dust and soot from the explosion had turned Ospar's visage dark gray in places, flat-out black in others. Under the mask, he could have been the most stunning man in existence, but no one would be able to tell. It was a wonder Jol could read the concern filling the man's expression.

"I'm fine, Director. I just had my brain rattled for a moment," Misru insisted. His face was as filthy as Ospar's, smeared where they'd tried to wipe off the blood. He perched on the edge of his desk. His balance wavered every now and then, as if caught in spells of dizziness.

Jol couldn't keep from glancing at the vid commendation hanging on the wall behind Misru. It declared Itga's platinum mine had gone seven years without an accident. The streak had ended, it seemed.

Then again, what had happened minutes ago might not qualify as an accident. Talu calling a Code One bore Jol's suspicions out. Perhaps Misru's record would be allowed to stand as uninterrupted. Espionage was no accident.

"You were unconscious for more than a moment." Ospar's blue-purple eyes were vibrant, nearly glowing in the midst of the mine dust. "The cut on your head isn't bad, and I think you're only in shock. It would still be best if medical personnel checked you over to be sure." He turned to the aide. The hovering Imdiko was so clean compared to his begrimed bosses, he damned near sparkled. "Rost, the emergency personnel who are here are busy with the injured. I doubt they'll be able to attend the supervisor. Would you take Misru to the hospital yourself?"

The Imdiko took Misru's arm immediately. "Absolutely, Director."

Misru continued to act slow on the uptake, blinking at Ospar. "But the reports…and…and…the men…"

Ospar patted his shoulder and smiled. Or maybe it was a grimace. It was hard to tell under the soot. "I'll take care of everything here until Rost returns back. In fact, I don't want you on the job until tomorrow, and only if the doctors clear you for it. Anything Rost and I can't handle will wait. The mine is closed until an investigation is completed."

Either Dramok Misru was one of those who subscribed to the belief that the director's word was law, or he was too shaken to argue. Having read the man's file prior to accompanying Director Ospar's entourage to the platinum mine, Jol was inclined to assume it was the latter reason. Ospar was doing the right thing in sending him to be evaluated.

Rost quickly coaxed Misru out of the office. As the door shut behind them, Ospar appeared to note Jol's presence for the first time. He scowled, and a flash of temper lit those brilliant eyes.

His tone accusing, Ospar said, "You're still here, Nobek? I'd have thought you'd run to where the real action is. Or are you incapable of anything beyond babysitting?"

An instant of anger lit inside Jol. If unleashed, it would have been more than a match for the director's. However, Ospar had been remarkably calm thus far, given he'd just survived an explosion. Not for a single second had Jol noted a crack in his controlled veneer.

He's antagonistic because it's better than having a screaming fit after nearly being killed. Since the danger has passed and he doesn't have Misru to take care of, everything will start hitting him.

It also could be the Dramok was frustrated he was stuck in the office. He'd wanted to assist the rescue efforts and had resented Talu sending him away. Jol experienced a sense of similar helplessness, playing bodyguard in a safe area rather than rendering aid to those who needed it.

Jol wanted to give the man the benefit of the doubt. However, he was aware of Dramok Ospar's reputation. The cynic in him wondered if he wasn't seeing the director on the brink of living up to the rumors.

Many accused Ospar of being a bully when he failed to get his way. He was known for resorting to intimidation tactics when he couldn't charm situations to his satisfaction. Maybe it was why he baited Jol, acting the tyrant who had no redeeming reason for his actions.

It didn't matter. In the end, Jol worked for Itga, which meant he worked for its director of operations. He tamped down the flash of hot resentment and bowed to the chain of command as Misru had. He kept his mouth shut.

When Jol offer no answer, Ospar's annoyance grew. "Hello? Are you hearing me, Nobek?" He spoke insultingly, as if instructing a child. "There's a mess in the mine. An accident has occurred. People may be under the rubble. Shouldn't you be there, rescuing them? They need help. I don't."

Asshole.Jol had punched faces in for far less condescension.

Stay in control. He's scared from the blast. His main concern appears to be for the workers.Jol could forgive the man's rampant insolence in that light. And ignorance, considering the larger issue to be considered. Jol had been pondering it while Ospar fussed over Misru.

Cocking an eyebrow at the man, his single concession to the disrespect from his employer, Jol answered, "There were a lot of men in there."

Ospar's comically shocked expression mocked him. "It speaks! The creature is capable of communication. How amazing." He dropped the act and glared disdainfully. "Yes, by my count there were at least a dozen men in there who could use a strong Nobek to rescue them. Why are you here?"

Because Talu is thinking the same thing I am about the explosion. Code One is rarely called unless sabotage is suspected.

Beyond the cold calculations of his job, Jol was beginning to believe the tales of Ospar's arrogance. It was in each word he uttered, the statements of the rich boy handed everything on a silver platter. Jol decided he wouldn't make further excuses for the pompous jerk.

Instead of answering the director, Jol indulged his pique. He teased Ospar with the conclusion he'd arrived at, starting by correcting him. "There were almost two dozen workers in there. A lot of men for a mostly automated job, wouldn't you agree? But then, the site supervisors like to put on a show for the director and owners when they show up. It looks impressive when you have workers busy digging ore and minerals."

Ospar scowled. "What in the ancestors' names are you talking about?"

Jol kept dangling tidbits at him, curious if the blowhard would catch on. "It was known you'd be making a visit, Director. It's a big deal when you schedule a stop in your mines, isn't it?"

"If you have something to say, Nobek, I'd appreciate you doing so."

"How often are explosives used in mines? After the initial opening of a new chamber, that is?"

Ospar's eyes narrowed. Suspicion was beginning to dawn. "Your point?"

"Misru trotted out a lot of people he didn't need. He did so to impress you. However, he'd never detonate explosives to show off to the heir of the Itga fortune. Especially when a blast could squash said heir under a ton of rock."

Ospar froze. He stared at Jol, his mouth hanging open. "You're saying the explosion was no accident. I was targeted?"

At least he was as sharp as Jol had been told, which was good. It might help Talu's security force keep him alive during work hours, if Jol's suspicions proved correct.

"You've made a enemies in the past few months. Particularly Dramok Urt, owner of Pladon Industries. I'm interested in learning what the investigation into this incident digs up…no pun intended."

The space between Ospar's brows creased, driving the mine dust into darker lines. "Hold on a second. I wasn't the only one in there. There were innocent men as well. Urt wouldn't dare…he couldn't."

Jol shrugged. He was again struck by how Ospar thought first of those who'd been caught in the blast. He possessed wealth and rank, yet cared for those who worked for him, the men who literally got dirt under their nails. Could a man be a jerk and possess a conscience as well?

The Nobek shared none of those notions. He addressed the matter of his favorite suspect in the unexplained explosion. "Just in case your competitor or anybody else would attack you in such a fashion, I'll do as I was ordered and stay close to you. I'll ensure they don't get another chance."

Ospar stared at him, real distress pinching his features. Horror even. Jol felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. Realizing his presence might have placed the workers in danger was an ugly epiphany for Ospar.

Maybe he wasn't such a jerk.