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  “No, Sir!” Drewe admitted, knowing full well he was being teased and astonished that another un -Cree like thing was happening here.

  “Look in that top drawer and give me my collar insignia,” Cree ordered as he turned to the full-length mirror on his bathing suite door and looped his tie over his head.

  Drewe found the set of silver Raven insignia then extended them on his palm to his commander. As Cree snapped the insignia into place, Drewe reached out to brush away a piece of lint from the Reaper patch on his Captain's left shoulder. The scarlet red triangle with the twin silver slashes bisecting the center were an emblem very few people on board the station liked to see. Even touching it made Drewe's fingers tingle.

  “How do I look?” Cree asked, heading for the door.

  “Sharp enough to pass even Admiral Kahn's inspection,” Drewe commented, “but I really think you should put on your boots before you leave.”

  Cree looked down and cursed. He stomped back to his bed, sat down, and began to pull on his boots.

  He is as nervous as a raw recruit, Drewe thought, but he would cut out his own tongue before making such a statement to Kamerone Cree.

  “Well?” Cree barked as he stood up. “Do I pass muster, now?”

  “Very professional, Sir,” Drewe agreed. “And very intimidating.” He knew from experience that whoever passed the Captain in the corridors would step aside when they saw that black uniform advancing on them and no one would dare look up into the face of the man wearing it. “Good luck, Sir.”

  For just a moment, Cree hesitated. He met Drewe's encouraging look, then told the Vid-Com to open the door, darting out of his quarters before he could rationalize what he was about to do.

  Chapter 8

  YEOMAN Djarl looked up as the door to his office shushed open. He stood up immediately, executing a crisp salute. “The Admiral is expecting you, Captain,” he said. “You may go right in, Sir!” Cree nodded, acknowledging the salute. He walked to the Duty Officer's door and stood there for a second, adjusting his tie, his belt. He squared his shoulders then pushed the entry pad into the D.O.'s office.

  “Captain,” the Admiral greeted him as Cree marched into the room and snapped off a perfect salute.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Sir!” Cree barked. He threw his shoulders back in a rigid stance of attention, his palms curved along the side seams of his trousers.

  “At ease, Kamerone,” the Admiral said in a friendly tone as he leaned back in his chair. He watched his biological son take a parade-rest stance with military precision and was very impressed with the young man standing before him. Father and son had never been this close before.

  “Thank you, Sir,” Cree stated.

  “I take it you suffered no ill effects from your recent disciplinary sojourn?” Cree's attention shifted from a point just above the Admiral's head to the man's dark gaze. “No, Sir,” he replied. “Thank you, Sir.” His gaze lifted once more to that obscure point in the distance.

  “The solar storm wrecking havoc over Hell-12 was a lucky break for you, don't you agree?” Cree's right check jumped in what often passed for a smile for him. “Aye, Sir.” The Admiral picked up a ceremonial dagger from his desktop and began tapping its blade on the desk's surface. “What exactly did you want to see me about, Kamerone?”

  Cree cleared his throat. “I came in to make a request, Sir. One I hope you will look upon with favor.” Draw lifted one thick white brow. “And that is?”

  There was a fraction of a second's hesitation before the Reaper blurted out: “I wish to take a live-in companion, Sir.” The Admiral nodded, continued to tap the dagger blade on the desktop. “You wish to have Lieutenant Lona move in with you?”

  Cree's brows drew together sharply in confusion. “Lona, Sir?” he asked, caught off guard by the question. He risked a look at the Admiral and when he saw the man was frowning, he looked away.

  “It is no secret that you and your 2/IC are close,” the Admiral put forth. “The Empire is aware you have been very circumspect in your dealings with the young man. I do not believe any untoward charges of fraternization could be leveled against you, but if you have decided you wish to exercise living privileges with him, I have no objection as long as you remain discreet.” Cree flinched, automatically lowering his gaze to his biological father and keeping it there. “Sir,” he stressed, finding his voice.

  “While I have, indeed, a measure of respect for the Lieutenant, I have no desire to have him move in with me. ” The very thought of such a thing was distasteful to Cree though he knew a few of the Reaper caste-not all that fond of the opposite sex-were more apt to seek out their own kind for companionship. He shuddered at the thought, color creeping into his cheeks. “Sir, I do not lean in that direction.”

  The Admiral's lips twitched. “No offense was intended, Captain.”

  “None taken, Sir,” Cree was quick to answer.

  “So, then,” the admiral said, tossing the dagger onto his desk. “It is a female you are here to request.”

  “Aye, Sir,” Cree acknowledged.

  “I do not believe this has ever come up before now,” the Admiral stated, drawing Cree's uneasy attention once more. “You realize, of course, that such a request is highly unusual?”

  “Aye, Sir,” Cree said. His stomach felt as though maggots were crawling around inside it and he was beginning to wish himself as far away from this office as time and space would allow.

  “And that female live-in companions are discouraged among the Retrieval Units?”

  “Aye, Sir.” Cree's voice was dull, lifeless.

  “This female is a Terran?”

  Cree nodded then mentally kicked himself for his momentary lack of respect. “Aye, Sir.” Admiral Cree tapped his right index finger along his nose. “One of your therapists, I take it,” he asked for clarification. He swiveled in his chair and pulled the keyboard of his computer toward him.

  “She was, Sir.” Cree's uneasy eyes followed the Admiral's fingers as they began to type something into the computer. When the Admiral glanced up at him, Cree quickly returned his attention to that point above Drae Cree's head.

  “Her name?” the Admiral inquired, his fingers flying across the keys.

  Once more those demon dark orbs lowered to the Admiral with confusion. “Dunne, Sir. Dr. Bridget Dunne.”

  “Excellent choice, Kamerone,” the Admiral stated. “She's quite lovely, isn't she?”

  “Excuse me, Sir?” Cree asked, more confused than ever. He stared into the Admiral's lined face as the man lifted his head and looked at him.

  “Bridget?” the Admiral stressed the name. “She is very lovely. I met her after your last therapy sessions, which, by the way, appeared to distress her deeply. I believe I saw tears in her eyes when she turned away.” He pressed one last key then leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn't mind having her as my own companion if I didn't already have Dr. Dean. Of course, men in my position may have more than one consort, but who needs the aggravation, eh?” Cree's jaw clenched and a muscle jumped in his left cheek. He didn't know how to answer that question so he remained silent.

  “Although I am not inclined to agree with the Ministry of Defense mandates concerning a man's sexual needs…”

  “I have no intention of having sex with her! ” Cree blurted out, wincing as the Admiral raised one thick white brow at his outburst. “What I meant to say, Sir, was…”

  Admiral Cree cut him off. “Why would you want such a lovely woman as a live-in companion if you do not wish to have sex with her, Captain?”

  Cree looked as if he was about to throw up. His face was a most unbecoming shade of red. “Sir,” he said, having to clear his throat to get the words out, “I need a housekeeper.”

  The Admiral stared at him. “A housekeeper?”

  “Aye,” Cree said on a long sigh. “Someone to clean my quarters, prepare meals.” He flung his hand out. “That sort of thing.”

  “A housekeeper,” the Admiral stated flatly, his v
oice devoid of inflection.

  “Aye, Sir,” Cree agreed.

  The Reaper's smile of relief at having stated his intent almost shocked the Admiral, who had not been expecting it. “I see,” he said, unnerved by that unholy smile. “In that case, Kamerone, I see no reason why you shouldn't have what you want.” He leaned over his keyboard once more. “I will grant your request.”

  Cree had to stop himself from shouting with glee. He bit his tongue to keep from breaking into another ridiculous smile he knew made him look more evil than happy.

  “Do you know just how much her acquisition will cost you?” the Admiral asked, not looking up at the Reaper.

  Cree shook his head. “No, Sir, but whatever it is, I will pay it.”

  Yes, the Admiral thought, as he typed in an amount on the line that asked for purchase price, I know you will. Drae's lips stretched into a faint grimace as he plucked the page from the printer and laid it on his desk. He picked up a pen to sign his name, but stopped. He looked up. “Who will look after her while you are away, Captain?” Cree's brows drew together again, but this time with thought. He cocked his head to one side, considering for a moment, then his face tightened. “I will have to consider that further, Sir.” He locked eyes with the Admiral. “Will that present a problem?” Drae shook his head. “I should think not. If I were you, I'd simply keep her in my quarters until my return.” He arched a brow at his subordinate. “That way, she can't run around getting into mischief, now, can she?” What kind of mischief? “No, Sir. Thank you for your advice, Sir.”

  “Any time,” the Admiral muttered. He scrawled his signature at the bottom of the request form, folded the paper, then slipped it into an envelope and sealed it. He extended the envelope toward the Reaper. “Present this at Requisitions then have Lona take the purchase price to the Bursar's office.” He sat back in his chair, pressed his fingertips together and smiled. “No need for you to have to make a trip way over to Finance for something like this. They can simply transfer the necessary credits from your account to the Ministry of Science.”

  Cree glanced down at the envelope, a little distrustful of the ease with which he had accomplished his acquisition of Bridget Dunne. He looked up at the Admiral's blank face. “That's all there is to it?”

  “What more do you want?” the Admiral asked. He leaned forward, bracing his arms on the desk. “You are a Reaper, Kamerone.” The right side of his mouth lifted in a quirk. “And the offspring of a very important man. Your requests should not be delayed nor challenged if they hold merit. Should they?”

  Cree drew in a long breath. Never had anyone admitted within his hearing his connection to the man seated across from him.

  He had known, of course, who had donated the seed for his conception, but had never dared boast of it. He was more than aware of the strong resemblance between them, a resemblance he found he both resented, and inexplicably, took pride in.

  Although they had never met face to face before today, he had often caught himself searching for the man's face in a crowd, watching for him, wishing for something to which he could not put a name. Staring at the man's slicked -back white hair, he wondered if his own thick hair would turn such a becoming shade of silver when he, himself, was in his late fifties.

  “Well?” Admiral Cree repeated. “Should they?”

  Cree had to shake himself to get rid of the thoughts tumbling around inside his head. “I suppose not, Sir,” he replied.

  “You should know not,” the Admiral said. “You, above any of your kind, should be given whatever you desire. Nothing should stand in the way of you getting what you want, when you want it. Do not let the petty jealousies of your inferiors keep you from obtaining anything you set your mind to, Kamerone.” He slapped his hands lightly on the tops of his desk then pushed himself up from his chair. “Unless you another request, you may go.”

  Before anything could happen to alter or disrupt what had just transpired, Cree threw his hand up and saluted. “No, Sir. Thank you, Sir!” he snapped. Pivoting, he spun around and marched to the door, barely breaking stride as the portal shushed open.

  Drae Cree bent over and pressed a button on his Vid-Com. As Dr. Dean's face came into view on the monitor, the Admiral smiled at her. “My son is on his way to Requisitions, Madame Director,” he told her. “He has the request chit in hand.” The Director smiled a sigh of relief. “Thank you for letting me know, Admiral,” she said, her image fading to black as she disengaged the Vid-Com connection from her end of the link.

  Sitting down in his chair again, the Admiral exhaled a long, cleansing breath. The trap had been set in the therapy unit of the Be-Mod 9 Unit and now the jaws had sprung shut. Only time would tell if they had caught their prey in its inescapable maw.

  ****

  DREWE FELL into step with his Captain as Cree headed for the office of Requisitions. “There is something I think you should know,” said Lona.

  “It can wait,” Cree growled as he tapped the envelope with his permission to purchase Bridget Dunne against the palm of his left hand.

  “No, Sir, I do not think it can,” Drewe disagreed and stumbled to a stop as the Reaper came up short.

  “All right,” Cree sighed. “What is so gods-be-damned important that you had to come looking for me, Drewe?” Both embarrassment and apology-laced with a hint of worry-passed over Lona's face. “You are not going to like it.” Cree suspected he wouldn't. “Just tell me,” he breathed in exasperation.

  “It's about the female. Dunne,” Drewe answered and watched as immediate suspicion clouded his Captain's hard face.

  “Well?” Cree thundered, annoyed that his heart was suddenly pounding in his chest. “What of her?” The Lieutenant sucked in a breath and spoke on an explosion of sound before he could lose his nerve.

  “You aren't the only one who has put in a Requisition chit for her. ” Sensing the fury he thought was going to erupt, he took a step back, but the quiet inquiry that met his words baffled him.

  “Who else?” Cree asked in an unnaturally soft voice that was as alien to the man as was the look of uncertainty that had been there earlier that morning.

  “Commander Konnor Rhye,” Drewe answered. “He's one of the Keepers on Captain Symthian Kullen's-”

  “I know Kullen's crew roster,” Cree cut him off. “And I am aware of Rhye.” A smug smile lifted the right corner of Cree's mouth. “But it doesn't matter.” He resumed his swagger down the long corridor.

  “It doesn't?”

  Cree shook his head. “Nope.”

  “May I ask why not?”

  Cree's evil grin grew wider. “I outrank him and someone reminded me just this morning that I should not let my inferiors keep me from having what I want.”

  Drewe hurried to catch up with him. “Commander Rhye has been saving for over four years to purchase the Terran female, Sir,” he said, having to increase his pace to keep up with Cree. “He's been courting her and-” Cree stopped, putting out a hand to halt Drew, as well. Slowly, he turned his head and stared hard at his second in command.

  One thick, dark brown brow quirked upward. “He's been doing what?” he asked in a cold tone.

  Drewe coughed. He stepped back from the look that had formed on the Reaper's lean face. “He is courting her. Courting means-”

  “I know what the hell it means! Explain in what context you suggest he is ‘courting’ her?” Drewe hurried with his explanation. “I was told he plans on Joining with her at the end of this month. ” Drewe did not like the thunderclouds that were building across the plains of Cree's countenance; sparks of dangerous lightning leapt in the dark expanse of his demon's eyes.

  “Joining with her?” Cree's voice was deceptively polite. “Joining as in taking her to wife?” Drewe nodded, alarmed at the frigid wind that had suddenly sprung up in the storm-ready voice of his Captain.

  “How is that possible?”

  “She is a Class Five female. I was told Class Fives are automatically excused from having to serve i
n the Breeding Units because of their usefulness in the science departments. As for the Keeper, his caste is encouraged to take live -in companions; it keeps them happier. Some have actually Joined with their companions and have started families. Our High Priests have found nothing objectionable in regard to this particular Joining and have deemed the woman fit to breed. Since the Behavioral Mod Unit agreed to her Bride Price…”

  “What about him?” Cree snarled, loathing the notion of Bridget breeding offspring. He shuddered. “Does he want her simply to bear his…his…” He flung out his hand in disgust. “…his get?”

  “From all accounts, he cares very deeply for her. They've been seeing one another for four years now and I am told they are lovers.”

  “Lovers?” the single word was a mere breath of sound. “As in he has sexual relations with her?”

  “Aye,” Drewe acknowledged with a red face. He wanted to ask what Cree thought the two of them did together.

  Cree stood there, staring at Drewe, assimilating the information his 2/IC had given him. He tapped the envelope against his thigh, then looked down at it. For a long moment, he simply studied the buff colored paper then the thunderclouds began to disperse from his face. The lightning faded from his stare.

  “It doesn't matter,” he said, grinning evilly. He pushed Drewe aside.

  “It doesn't?” Drewe repeated, nearly running to catch up.

  ****

  CREE WASN'T surprised to see Konnor Rhye standing at the Bursar's desk when he entered the Office of Requisitions. He had made Drewe stay outside. He nodded in acknowledgment of the Commander's nod of respect before the Keeper moved out of Cree's way. Cree handed his Requisition chit to the man behind the counter.

  Konnor Rhye glanced uneasily at the Reaper standing beside him. Despite being on a friendly enough basis with his own Reaper, Captain Kullen, Rhye found himself tense, on edge, in the presence of Rysalia's Prime Reaper.

  Scanning the form before him, the Bursar drew in a harsh breath. He looked at the Commander, glanced nervously at Cree, then returned his troubled attention to the form, hoping against hope that he had either read the chit wrong or it had changed since he had last looked at it.