He stood at the command podium, as unflappable as ever. He issued a stream of orders while tapping on the computer and scanning his monitors, occasionally holding up a hand to quiet his aides and officers while speaking on his com link to those in the field. As furious as the activity around him always seemed to be, he was the stable center of the storm.
Tukui grinned. No doubt everyone else saw a stern, stoic Nobek when they looked at Osopa, long on control but short of feeling. However, Tukui identified subtle signs no one else would pick up on, hints that Osopa took not just pleasure with his job, but sheer elation. Despite struggling with leaving the fleet, he’d discovered a warrior’s paradise. Earther insurgents and gangs had sprung up in the wake of Armageddon. Between capturing those preying on the weak and defending the site and its rescuers from hostile attacks, Osopa was pushed hard. He loved it, sinking his teeth into the many challenges that came with saving those who didn’t believe or want to be saved. Crisis management was a better fit for his imperturbable strength than the fleet career he’d trained diligently for.
The entire clan had won contentment in their unforeseen change of direction. Yorso had his hands full with navigating his fellow Kalquorians through the vast cultural differences between themselves and Earthers. It was all he could do to keep the peace when Kalquorian norms upset the sullen and suspicious survivors. His challenges were compounded by the fact that Earthers had as many social variations in their backgrounds as the Galactic Council had member planets. Even Tina often came up short on the answers he needed. Despite a totalitarian government with an enforced homogenized religion, humans had clung to as much of their traditional identities as they were able. When Yorso wasn’t working, he was reading from the planet’s library grid, trying to get a handle on a species that differed on all levels of its social strata. As frustrating as Tukui would have found his Imdiko’s job, Yorso was thrilled with each discovery he made.
Perhaps the greatest gift of their new lives was how Tina flourished. She still had moments of anxiety when she questioned the permanence of their dedication to her. However, those instances were growing fewer and farther between as the days passed. She worked with Yorso, assisting him as best she could. She was particularly adept at organizing diversions to keep the refugees occupied until they left the planet.
She continued to grieve her lost family, but she’d accepted the tragedy as something to work through. Tina seemed content for the most part. When it came to assigning guilt for Armageddon, she pointed to Earth’s government and its Holy Leader, as well as Kalquorian military leadership. She scowled whenever she encountered Admiral Jes, unimpressed with his constant politeness towards her. As the most senior Kalquorian she had access to, she’d made him the personification of her planet’s destruction.
Tukui was relieved she placed no blame on her clanmates. He couldn’t have stood knowing his adored Matara didn’t care for him.
He was in love. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to scream it at everyone he saw. The right situation hadn’t yet arrived, since the site was still working out the logistics of evacuating its corner of Washington’s outlying areas. Most days ended just in time for Tukui to eat dinner and fall into exhausted sleep.
He was in love with his Matara, but Tukui couldn’t bear to voice it. Tina deserved better than him blurting it out as they scrambled to get ready for another day. Even the few times they’d snatched to make love hadn’t been quite suitable. He didn’t want her getting the idea such a proclamation was voiced simply because he’d enjoyed an interlude of sex.
No, he needed the proper atmosphere. Maybe when things settled down and they could catch their breath, the clan could take her to a scenic location. They could be romantic, with a picnic meal near the seashore. Or on a mountain. Somewhere nice. Somewhere special. Then he’d speak the words that had burned themselves into his heart, and she’d know he meant them with every fiber of his being.
His perfect moment would arrive. Until that magical instant, life was good despite its hectic pace. Tukui thought he might even be sorry when he had to leave Earth.
“Team Four Leader to Team Coordinator.” It was Dramok Ebond’s voice in his ear monitor, who’d convinced the daycare refugees to come in.
“Go for Team Four.” Tukui went to his computer.
“We’ve reached the site. Heading to the intake building. That’s not all, sir. You may want to meet us at Intake. I have two tags with your clan’s name on them.”
Tukui’s heart went into overdrive. Was it possible? “Alive?”
“Very much so.”
“On my way.”
* * * *
“What’s this great idea you wanted to tell me about?” Yorso smiled up at Tina from his chair, leaning back from the desk that seemed crowded despite the fact it only had a com unit, his work handheld, and a computer sitting on its smooth black surface.
Tina wondered how he could function with seven vid screens activated. They hovered above the desk, giving it that cluttered aspect that threatened to give her a headache. Fortunately, Yorso’s office was otherwise bare, except for the shelves containing print books he’d gotten his greedy hands on.
She concentrated on her Imdiko. His smile was more of a leer, doubtlessly brought about by how she was dressed. Due to her running all over the site all day long, she’d opted for clothes which were comfortable yet durable. It was early spring, but days tended to be cool, especially in the morning and evening. Her sweater was proof against the chill, but lightweight enough for when the afternoons warmed up. It clung to what curves she possessed, as did the jeans she wore.
Yorso had a thing for her in faded blue denim. Tina wasn’t exactly sure what the attraction was, but hey, she liked being tied up. Who was she to make fun of her clanmate’s fixation on how she looked when she put on a pair of jeans?
And clingy sweaters. She snapped her fingers. “My face is up here.”
“Sorry.” His grin broadened.
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.”
Tina laughed at him. Fair was fair. She ogled him plenty. If her jeans were snug, his formsuit was more so, leaving little to the imagination. At least, the unarmored version was. As long as he was on the well-guarded site, he had no reason to wear the protective uniform with reinforced padding.
He forced the wattage of his smile to an office-friendly level. “Okay. Business then. My lovely assistant has a new plan to entertain the refugees?”
“I was thinking about a talent show. Mr. Garcia was telling me about how he used to play the guitar in a band that toured several states. I happen to know Mrs. Hatch writes poetry. Jamal juggles everything he gets his hands on. Why not invite everyone with a gift to show it off? Those who don’t participate would enjoy the entertainment. We could have refreshments too.”
“A fun night out. Well, as ‘out’ as we can offer on a rescue site. It sounds perfect. Just Earthers?”
Tina considered. “Hmm. Good point. Participating would reveal a side of Kalquorians the survivors haven’t seen before. What skills are you hoping to display?”
He laughed at the suggestive way she wiggled her eyebrows. “Nothing that would impress.”
“No hidden artistic abilities you haven’t shared?”