Warriors of Yedahn Book 5

“An effing pirate—whoops.” Shira Perez winced, having just barely caught herself, setting her son Ori down to toddle off. “Kid’s first word is going to be something unsuitable for public consumption.”

Evvek twirled in his seat, shrugging. “Words only have the power you give them, babe.”

Shira scowled at her guardian’s data analyst. “Would you stop calling me babe? Of all the words in Earth Standard for you to overuse. I’m a mature woman and a mother.” There was no one on planet Yedahn to argue her down over the mature part, but mother was a bona fide.

He paused his twirling and gave her a winsome smile. Over the last few weeks his hair had morphed into a bright yellow mohawk streaming over one muscled blue shoulder, his earrings a swath of glittering crystal draping down to his collarbone.

“But it makes you scowl at me, and that’s so hot,” he said.

“Stop flirting, Evvek,” her guardian Tai’ri said, entering the room. An elite royal warrior to the Bdakhun Ibukay, Shira was a little hazy on his exact function, except that it involved data gathering—the polite term for espionage. That he was her guardian Shira accepted only because he and his mate, her best friend, had suffered the same months long imprisonment and reproductive assault she had. It redefined trauma bonding. “She isn’t for you.”

“Just having fun.”

Shira’s lips twitched, but she didn’t want to encourage him. Everyone acted like Vivian, Tai’ri’s mate, walked on water—and the petite woman did, admittedly—but Shira was like one of the guys. They ribbed her, teased her, played with Ori, and gave her none of the careful deference they gave her guardian’s wife. Mate. Whatever.

She understood. Shira would never aspire to Vivian’s calm, sweet, ethereal dark beauty. Shira was rough, uncouth, demanding and loud.

She cussed too much. Where Vivian was sleek and graceful and cooperative, Shira was . . .round and enthusiastic and ornery. Which was a positive way of spinning things.

They’d both been abducted, medically impregnated by traffickers planning on selling their babies to the highest bidder, and then rescued by the Beysikai province princess—but Vivian was so gracious about it.

Her baby daddy, and now mate, had turned out to be an elite royal guard. Shira’s baby daddy . . .

“Pirate?” she repeated with a sigh. “That’s just so typical for me.”

Evvek looked up at the ceiling. “Pirate is such an imprecise term. A notorious unlicensed transporter of goods is more accurate. Whose interplanetary warrants always seem to disappear as soon as they are filed.”

“Who happens to have an unregistered ship loaded down with unauthorized military grade artillery,” Tai’ri said, voice dry. 

Shira stared at Tai’ri, her eyes narrowed on his face. There was something a little too bland about his voice, his clear blue gaze a little too neutral.

Dude was holding out on her. But she’d bide her time.

Evvek sighed. “Details. I’m trying to be positive.”

“That’s two of us,” Shira muttered. “No, Ori, don’t—” the figurine he was eyeing crashed to the floor “—touch that. Shit. Whoops again. Goddamn it.”

Tai’ri eyed the shards. “House.”

A small force field sprang up over the mess, gently bumping the child back to shield him from the glass. A moment later the shards dissolved into sand, and the shield collapsed. Ori crouched down and drew a short, chubby finger through the small pile.

“Shiny,” he cooed.

Then he stood, looking around. Shira knew her son. He was trying to find other things to break so the house would turn them into glimmering piles of more dust to play with. What she didn’t get was, if the House was smart enough to determine Tai’ri’s command based on his voice inflection, and then smart enough to pulverize the glass into harmless dust . . . why didn’t it make it go poof too? Unless House was playing with Ori. It made her head hurt thinking about it.

“Mayleen will be awake soon,” Tai’ri said.

“She’s such a calming influence on him.”

He fixed her with a gimlet stare. “Why are you stalling? Viv and Banu are already in the gym.”

“Ugh. Alright,” she added hastily when his eyes narrowed. “I’m going.” She stabbed a finger at Evvek. “We’re going to talk about this pirate shit when I’m done. No way in hell is my child’s sperm donor a pirate.”

Ori shrieked with laughter as another figurine went smashing to the floor. “House! Do shiny!”

“. . . he’s definitely his sperm donor’s son.”

* * *

There were a few times in his life he’d been angry enough to kill. Unfortunately for the individual on the other side of his cold temper, he also possessed poor impulse control.

Malko contemplated the encrypted message on the datapad in his hand. Data his contact had promised to bury so deep no one would ever find it—for the sake of the female and child.

Child.

“Malko?”

He had a son. He’d had a son for just over two years and was only now learning of the boy’s existence.

He turned on his heels, hefting the datapad in his hands, and threw it. It crashed against the far wall of the small bungalow and clattered to the floor. The things were indestructible. Indulging himself, he withdrew his blaster and aimed.

There.

Now that he’d purged that particular urge, he looked up at the owner of the voice.

His second eyed him warily, but with no real fear. Half-human, half-Yadeshi, Penina was used to his occasional purges of temper. She only spent a few weeks out of the year here with them, preferring her home city when on leave.

“What happened?” she asked, stepping into the combo living kitchen room and closing the door behind her. The windows were open, and he’d never bothered with curtains so sunlight and sea breeze streamed in, ruffling his loose hair. 

Closing the door also didn’t muffle the bright ring of children’s laughter outside. A group of them were on his porch playing a game they’d invented with stones, sticks, and chalk. He’d been about to make lunch when the message came through on his secured device.

Only a handful of people knew how to reach him on that channel.

“Someone needs to die.”

“So, you’re in a good mood.” Though there was amusement in her tone, her brown eyes went flat. “Guess that means leave is over.”

“We aren’t going to feed everyone sitting here on our asses. Might as well get back to work.” He enunciated each word, controlling his tendency to slip back into the gutter dialect of his misspent youth when angry.

“You gonna tell me why we’re going to kill someone first?”

“I have a son,” he said, and strode out of the house.

Penina badgered him relentlessly as they made the rounds and roused his crew out of their bungalows. Noah was the least pleased, and his pregnant wife stared daggers at Malko.

“He was supposed to have three weeks leave,” she said. “If you get my fool husband killed before this baby is born—”

“Relax,” Malko said. “It’s a simple run.”

“That’s what you said when—”

Malko looked at Noah, who sighed and hauled himself up out of the sand, scattering a pair of chubby cheeked, lavender skinned toddlers. “I’ll be back before the baby is born,” he promised. “Don’t get any fatter, right?”

His wife swore and swiped at him as he jumped out of her way, cackling. Penina shook her head as they all walked away. “She’s going to murder you in your sleep one day,” she said.

Noah scratched the stubble on his chin. “Nah. She’s too fond of these human nu—”

“Please.” Penina’s brow crinkled. “Spare me.”

His expression sobered. “My wife is a saint.” Noah glanced at Malko. “So what’s the job?”

“A thousand kilos. Relay to Earth.”

Noah looked at Penina. “So why does he sound like someone is about to die?”

“He didn’t tell me yet. But we’re going to have to make a side trip first.”

The security officer narrowed his eyes. 

The sand turned into the edges of their settlement as they walked. Their island was in the middle of a dead zone, the only satellite connection encrypted. It was as secret as Malko could make it, and the forty or so crew families who made up its residents lived a simple, peaceful life along with a small, growing population of immigrants.

“I have a son,” Malko said, and stopped. His second and his security officer were the only two people he could trust to keep their mouths shut—and to take up the mantle if something happened to him. “It was Nabirah.”

Penina’s eyes widened as Noah choked. “You knocked up that viper?”

Malko grimaced. “No.” And it was a good thing he’d known better than to trust her with the location of this island. She hadn’t been crew long enough, hadn’t been blooded in though she’d begun to nag him about it. She’d been second because of her skills and contacts. He’d never make that mistake again.

He’d had time to think about it, how it could have happened. His former second and sometimes hook up had disappeared two years ago—after knocking him out during sex. She’d stolen their cargo, and he’d spent the next several months avoiding his client until he could pay the cost of the goods back, at blaster point. Those kind of people hadn’t cared so much about the loss of cargo as they had about the ding to their rep.

“Malko, what did Nabirah do?” Noah asked. “Besides jack our cargo and put us all up shit creek for a quarter.”

Penina’s brow wrinkled. “Shit creek?”

Noah gave her a pitying look. “Poor First Gen. Can’t even speak properly.”

She rolled her eyes. Having been born among the first crop of Yadeshi-human children decades ago, aspects of Earth culture baffled her just as much as it would a full blooded Yadeshi.

Malko met the eyes of another crew member, Darin, lounging on his side in front of his own beach hut, and hand signaled. The male grimaced but lurched to his feet and began to amble off to help quietly rouse the others. Soon news would travel through the settlement that the Darkblade would lift off again.

“It has to be something serious for you to cut leave short,” Noah said, tone going somber as he watched everyone gather in a loose circle to await orders. “Gonna piss the spouses and Bonded off.”

Malko sighed, and told them.

* * *

The crew gaped at him, mingled expressions of outrage and shock on faces just barely rested from the haggardness of the last run. Though the ship’s bard looked vastly amused, and as if he were already composing lyrics in his head. Malko’d given a terse explanation before takeoff, face expressionless, because he owed them that much.

“I promised you and your families three weeks,” Malko finished. “I’ve never gone back on my word and if it weren’t this, I wouldn’t now.”

“This is about family,” someone said. “We’re with you.”

Once the ship cleared the atmosphere, Malko left the bridge and went to his cabin. For a moment he let the mask drop, leaning his hands on his desk.

Moments later, a chime sounded. He straightened. “Enter.”

Noah slipped inside. “What will you do if she doesn’t want to come with us?”

Malko went to the ration unit and requested two shots of vodka. The stuff he doled out only on special occasions, or to prevent himself from murdering someone who maybe didn’t quite deserve it.

“I’ll make her an offer she can’t refuse.”

Noah barked a short laugh, knocking back his shot. “Man, this sucks. Are you sure Nabirah is out of reach? That bitch.”

Malko regarded the clear liquid in his cup. “For now. The resources it would take to get to her would see us at a loss for at least six quarters.” And they had mouths to feed. New babies on top of everyone else, because his crew just wouldn’t stop reproducing. Hands to grease.

“I know what this means to you.”

Malko met Noah’s gaze. They hadn’t grown up together, but they’d grown up on parallel paths, both of them fighting gritty streets for survival.

“I said I’d never abandon a child of mine,” Malko said. “I meant it.” He finally downed his shot, then smiled, the expression chilly. “If the mother stands in my way . . .”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t have to.