Chapter Eight

Earth II

Reporter Blythe Nelson sat at her computer, tapping her fingernails on her desk as need warred against indecision. She had a job to do, but personal concerns threatened to derail her usual determination to see it through.

For once, those concerns had nothing to do with her blossoming intimate relationship. She'd become involved with Clan Deram, a group of Kalquorian spies who operated on Earth II. Having discovered they worked undercover to guard the infant planet from those who'd threaten the lives and liberty of its residents, she'd chosen to maintain their secret…and their newfound love affair.

It was a difficult tightrope to walk for someone who lived her career as a journalist as gospel. But the threats to Earth II, Kalquor, and the rest of the galaxy had grown exponentially in a matter of months. Blythe had found her desire to keep its many species safe from destruction greater than exposing the unadulterated truth.

Her assignment on Earth was a cover, unknown to her fellow humans. She was, in truth, an undercover reporter for the Jedver News First Bureau. Her employer was based in the Galactic Council, which had been subverted by an alien force from another dimension. It was worry for her chief editor and friend Retoft, whom she referred to as "Rob" for those who might choose to listen in on her conversations, which made her pause before steeling her resolve and hitting his private frequency on her com. Even a scrambled conversation, of which no record could be or was kept, did little to alleviate her concerns for his safety in these tumultuous times.

He answered after a couple of seconds. She didn't miss the anxiety in his voice, though she noted he tried to cover it. "Jedver News First Bureau. Retoft speaking."

"Hi, Rob."

"Blythe." He whispered, as if he were afraid of being overheard. "Lovely hearing from you. Can you make it fast? I'm…busy."

He was afraid, all right. Possibly of someone questioning him about an untraceable com. "The GC is threatening an orphanage of Armageddon kids. Kalquorians are attached to the facility. Both worlds are throwing a shit fit. You aren't reporting on it."

"Can't. Upper brass quietly emptied the bureau of Earther and Kalquorian journalists through layoffs and long-distance assignments. No one left has any interest in a few hundred human kids…or they're too afraid to bring it up."

"Fuck. Are they controlling everything?"

"They have no choice. Listen, there are protests breaking out all over various settlements in GC space."

"Which has leaked, thanks to those fleeing the GC."

"Few are getting out now, unless I miss my guess."

"The flood of refugees has slowed to a trickle where Earth is concerned."

"Then you may not know of the level of military force being used to put down the demonstrations. Soldiers are firing on civilians, Blythe. Ground troops are everywhere. I have no doubt I'm being followed throughout the day. I'll be hauled in to answer for this com, make no mistake."

Blythe swallowed. "You need to leave Jedver. I have resources that could help."

He chuckled. "Don't worry. I've concocted a number of plausible stories to cover my ass when my undercover reporters com me."

"Rob, you have to leave." She could taste the trouble he was in. Her instincts, rarely wrong, screamed his circumstances were dire.

"Would you? Or would you stay until the job was done or you were unable to do it any longer?"

Her silence answered for her. One of the reasons they got along so well, this reptilian man from a world named Perta and all-too-human Blythe, was because they were more alike than different.

"Tell them out there what I've told you. I'll pass along what I can when I can. Until then…take care, Blythe."

He was gone, the com ended. She wondered if she'd ever hear from him again.

Her heart heavy, she sat in her cubicle in the newsroom. She faced her computer screen and its half-finished script for her latest report, as well as half a dozen vids of the news from across the galaxy. She'd silenced them for the duration of her conversation, and she could hear various reporters and editors in the network of cubicles and desks muttering conversations, sneezing, and coughing.

She touched the filtering mask she'd taken to wearing in the company of others. Some debilitating flu was going around lately. The last thing she needed right now when so much was plunging into hell was to get sick.

"Stay safe," she whispered belatedly to Rob, whose problems were no doubt more dire than any flu.

* * * *

Alpha Space Station

"Matara Charity? We've been looking everywhere for you."

Charity turned at the voice coming from behind her. Three handsome Kalquorians and a gorgeous, well-dressed Earther female had approached from behind as she'd prowled the public area of the space station orbiting Earth II. Her heart sank as she recognized them, but she put on a smile, as if pleased to run into the group.

"Governor Nichols, what an honor to meet you at last! Congratulations on the latest polls."

Stacy Nichols blinked dark brown eyes at the effusive greeting. "Thank you, Ms. Bailey. The election is far from finished, however."

Even after over five years, Charity's spirit rebelled to hear the name she'd used to hide her identity. She set the discomfort aside automatically. "It's a shame I can't be counted as a resident on Earth so I can vote for you. Is this your clan?"

"My promised clan. Dramok Rihep, Imdiko Etnil, and Nobek Kuran."

The three men bowed. The one identified as the Imdiko grinned at her, his features merry. "This is most definitely not the library where we were told we'd find you. Unless you're researching entertainment and restaurants for school?"

They'd been looking for her? Her heart gave a little flutter, and she let another stab of irritation calm the spark of anxiety. "I thought Clan Deram was the bunch supposed to keep tabs on me. Is the whole station on alert for my activities?"

"Deram's clan had to work late, so I agreed we'd check on you." The Nobek was a big bruiser, intimidating. Fortunately, his expression was considerate. Kind, for his breed. Nothing like the fearsome Oses.

"Your aunt and uncle said you were studying for a class assignment." Dramok Rihep had an open, honest face with a boy-next-door quality despite his muscles. "It looks as if you were sidetracked by the urge to have some fun."

"Perfectly understandable," Governor Nichols chuckled. "We were going to have dinner as soon as we found you. We informed your aunt and uncle we'd have you join us."

"How nice."

Her polite tone apparently didn't fool Etnil. Despite having just met, he immediately teased her. "We won't be as thrilling as drooling over the meat market of the promenade, but we do have reservations at a place that cooks the best ronka steaks off Kalquor."

Her cheeks burned for him to have assumed she was cruising for male attention…which had been exactly what she was up to. "I wasn't…you don't know the first thing about me, Imdiko. Maybe I prefer women."

"Then you're in sad shape on this station. Hey, you aren't eyeballing my sweetheart, are you?" Etnil waved his arms in exaggerated gestures in front of Stacy, jokingly shielding her from Charity's sight.

He was the silliest version of a Kalquorian she'd met and impossible to avoid laughing at. She tossed her hair. "As if you'd have a chance against me. Lucky for you, I'm all about men."

"Oh, then Stacy might have to fight you off to keep me." He beamed.

"She said she liked men," Kuran remarked drily. He avoided the pretended outrage of Etnil's roundhouse swing effortlessly. "Shall we go to dinner?"

"Might as well," Charity sighed, giving up and falling in step with her companions as they headed off. "Everyone here looks so intense and uninterested in having fun anyway."

So many men, so few available to play.

"The bad news keeps coming," the governor told her. "We've lately heard an orphanage in GC space somehow got overlooked when it came to evacuating. It consists of the children who were rescued after Armageddon and a staff of Earther women and Kalquorian men who serve as instructors and security."

Charity gaped. "What? How did no one think to yank the kids out when the GC went nuts?"

"The Galactic Council was the facility's main authority, but those running the orphanage were left pretty much in charge. They're so efficient, they required little oversight. When the Kalquorians were ordered to leave, the Nobeks decided they couldn't abandon the children. They only recently decided it would be best for the entire orphanage to evacuate. They contacted Kalquor for help. We're readying for them to come to Earth."

"Wow. Hopefully the Darks won't notice they're still there before they can escape." Charity's heart ached for parentless children who'd have to be uprooted from the home they knew. It was similar to what had happened to her.

"We have our fingers crossed," Stacy said.

* * * *

Open Arms Orphanage

Piras exited his phased shuttle after landing on the small moon Mymah, which orbited a dead rock of a planet. Mymah was as lush and green as its larger sibling was not. Piras inhaled fresh air. Despite the darkness of night, his sensitive eyesight allowed him to appreciate the cultivated fields, which were hemmed in by the verdant growth of tall trees.

He looked at the buildings in a clearing within the surrounding fields. Their small, simple construction didn't fool him; he knew they'd been made to stand the test of time. The report he'd read on the orphanage stated once its last child of Armageddon had departed, it would be put to another use. The Galactic Council was always ready to offer its member planets efficient facilities for altruistic uses.

At least such had been the case until the Darks had arrived.

Piras unphased, though he left his shuttle invisible. Kila's spyship orbited Mymah and was preparing for the coming fight against the squadron heading their way. They had only a day to ready the orphanage for what would be at least a two-day siege, until their Kalquorian marauder backups arrived.

His mind crammed full of all they'd have to accomplish, he headed toward the building where half a dozen Nobeks were spilling out to greet him.

* * * *

"The spyship can't accommodate the staff and children," Piras explained to Nobek Besral, his two aides, and his Matara, a lovely older woman named Cheryl. "We won't be able to take them off the moon before the Galactic Council squadron shows up."

"Then we'll have to fight and try to hold them off until more help arrives," the elder man said. "If it weren't for the children, I'd welcome the opportunity."

"There's another option—"

"We Nobeks won't leave. We won't hide on your ship or in the woods or anything that means abandoning the women and children. They need our protection against the Darks." Besral glowered.

"I wouldn't have suggested it. I've fought at the sides of too many Nobeks for me to believe you'd allow us to separate you from the orphanage. However, if you were to hide somewhere within easy access of your charges? A place you can rush from and fight the enemy, if needed?"

Besral grinned, and Piras was pleased the old warrior had already anticipated such a need. "We're way ahead of you, Admiral. Let me show you what we've accomplished so far."

* * * *

Kila's spyship, orbiting Mymah

Hope pretended she didn't notice Kila hovering nearby, waiting for an opportunity to start an argument. It would be easy to do since she was working on her own in her personal corner of Engineering.

Lokmi was too busy to help her. The spyship's chief engineer was currently running his crew ragged in preparation for the looming battle against the GC warships.

She doublechecked the power signatures of the drones and the ten nanospies each carried. She was astounded she'd managed to wheedle Piras into giving her the large number of devices, but the test runs she'd performed along the way to Mymah had been successful. The devices' first actual mission was a go.

Satisfied her drones and nanospies were as ready as they could be, she sent them to the Darks' home dimension. The first mission would be a mere ten minutes, during which they'd record vid footage of their surrounding space. Her hope was they'd emerge in the vicinity of celestial objects. If so, her next project, if the emergency they were under allowed for it, would be to collect physical samples.

Kila cleared his throat. Since all she had left to do for the next few minutes was to wait, she couldn't ignore him any longer. She gazed at him with a mixture of love and exasperation.

"I'm fully trained on many of your ship's functions, particularly as a staff member of Engineering. You need me if a key crewmember is taken out of the fight," she said.

"You'll be safer on the moon."

"You don't know that. What if they send down a shit-ton of ships to confront the managers of the orphanage?"

"If they try to land more than one shuttle during the initial confrontation, I'll blast them to pieces. Then they'll be too busy fighting me to bother the orphanage."

"Kila, if they're ridden by Darks, the spyship's phase ability won't hide your presence. They'll realize we're sitting here as soon as they reach visual range."

"I'll be hiding beyond their sight until it's time to swoop in and send them to whatever misbegotten ancestors they claim," he growled. "Scanners don't detect us when we're phased, so I'll have the element of surprise."

"It'll only get you so far faced by six prime defenders."

"Right. Which is why you won't be on board. Thanks for making my argument for me."

She huffed and threw her hands in the air. "You're being ridiculous. I'll be useless on the moon. Here, I can make a difference."

"Here, you can be killed alongside me and Lokmi. Then what happens to your research that might win the bigger war against the Darks?"

"Jerk," she snarled, but insulting him by calling him a name underlined how she'd run out of arguments.

"I love you too." He grinned in triumph, knowing he'd won.

The drones re-appearing above the desk kept her from continuing the pointless sparring. They sank to the surface and opened tiny ports. Specks swarmed from them and rested on a relay pad configured to communicate with the computer.

"Nano A, display vid footage."

A holoscreen shimmered into view. She'd expected to see vast space recorded. A moon or planet was what she'd prayed for. What she saw instead stunned her. Kila made a startled sound and moved closer to her.

"My Matara?"

"I don't understand—"

The figure appearing before them on the holoscreen was identical to Hope but for the blindingly white armored formsuit replacing her usual yellow-trimmed black fleet uniform. It was her image otherwise, down to the tiny pale scar over her eyebrow where she'd fallen against the corner of a table when she was five.

But it wasn't her. It couldn't be.

As she and Kila gaped, the other Hope's impassive expression was matched by a bland tone as she spoke. "Greetings, Hope Nath of Earth and Kalquor. Please listen to our message and take heed."