T’arq
T’arq stalked through the corridors of the Zataras, barely registering the people who greeted him as he passed.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He clenched and unclenched his fists as he walked. She wouldn’t talk to him, and what would he say, anyway?
I’m sorry I lied?
He was sorry that he had lied, but admitting that he had lied would mean needing to tell the truth. He could hardly apologize for lying and then turn around and not tell her why. Scoffing at the thought that she would let him get away with that. Like hell she would.
What else could he say? Nothing. That’s what was expected of him, wasn’t it? The playboy who just dallied in superficial flings. The promiscuous warrior with the reputation as an insatiable lover. He’d never cared what people thought of him before, but now? He wanted Krystal to know who he really was, deep down and not the person he let others see.
She had seen past the facade, and he’d been given a taste of connection. He craved it like a dying man in a desert craving water. Was this what he had been missing all along?
No.
He stopped in the middle of the hallway, a cadet almost crashing into him but dodging at the last minute to thump into the wall. “Sorry, Sub-Commander!” the young Taurean said, eyes wide as he backed away from T’arq.
Was he really that frightening? He looked down at himself and brushed at his uniform with his hand, suddenly self-conscious in his filthy and torn flight suit as he stood in the pristine hallway. He had left oily footprints that a cleaner bot was scrubbing at, the little bot the same model as the one Krystal had been repairing yesterday.
Was it only yesterday?
He ran a hand over his face and sighed. It felt like a lifetime ago.
He began walking again, turning down the corridor that would take him to the bridge. His torn flight suit flapped around his ankles, the rent in the leg opening one side from ankle to thigh, gusts of cold air from the floor vents blasting his legs above his combat boots.
He should have been able to prevent this. He’d promised Krystal she would be safe. And she hadn’t been. He’d known following the Xakul was dangerous, and he’d done it, anyway. He deserved every bit of her anger and distrust. His lips thinned as he thought, once again, about how he had almost cost her life.
He’d wanted her to see him for who he was and what had he shown her? The exact opposite. He dragged a hand through his hair, sending the already messy strands into complete disarray. He’d kissed her when he knew she wanted more than he could offer. Hadn’t she said as much? And he, in all his ego, had what? Had he thought it was a challenge?
His stomach turned, and he swallowed bile.
It was one thing to not want to get involved with someone too closely, but he always made sure the people he slept with felt the same way. He knew getting too closely involved would be trouble. He knew that wasn’t what she was like.
And still he had kissed her.
T’arq forced his jaw to relax from where it was clenched. There was only one thing for it—he had to stay away from Krystal. Even if she forgave him for lying—and he doubted she would—he wasn’t made for deep feelings and relationships. One night, maybe two, that was it. But a lifetime?
He scoffed, feeling an uncomfortable burn in his chest. Was the thought of a lifetime with Krystal so bad? He dodged the thought. She wouldn’t even talk to him now, so why even think about it?
Even so, the little whispered thought persisted.
Realizing he had reached the door to the bridge, T’arq stopped and looked down at himself and his torn and stained uniform. He must be a sight. There was nothing for it but to get this over with. He swiped his wrist over the scanner pad.
The door opened to reveal the bridge. A Taurean starship’s bridge was adaptable to the activity and the captain. The room’s walls were lined with interactive viewscreen panels, three currently showing the view outside the big starship. As they were on alert for attack by the Xakul, the bridge had been configured for combat.
The Zataras’ bridge was a hive of activity. Workers were busy tapping on their interactive panels for their designated tasks, some seated and some standing. And in the center of it all was where Tomas Ka’Ress would stand.
No big comfortable seat for him. A pilot originally, he preferred to stand and only strapped himself into the co-pilot’s seat when things really got rough. Right now, he was leaning over the shoulder of one of the ship’s tactical officers. The two were deep in conversation, their voices inaudible. Tomas straightened and clapped the other man on the shoulder, smiling at him before turning to face T’arq.
His smile dropped. T’arq knew Tomas as Zac’s cousin, but when in his own territory, then he was entirely the starship captain, and not the friendly cousin. His face was pure Taurean upper-class elegance. High cheekbones and a powerful jaw were the backdrop to a face with the same piercing green eyes that Zac had. Not for him was the telling purple of T’arq’s eyes.
He turned and gestured for T’arq to follow him, crossing to a door on the other side of the bridge. T’arq followed, entering a room with a large table around which humans and Taureans sat.
“You’re late.” Zac did not stand, and by his curt tone was obviously displeased with his friend.
T’arq nodded, taking the only empty seat, which was next to Krystal. “I walked.”
