Page 2 of When Dragons Play

Calo looked up and motioned at Cree. “My guess is the same thing that happened to your face.”

“Hey, Dads, Mom wanted me to bring you⁠—”

Hope’s voice faded when she looked up from the bag she was carrying. Her lips parted and she stared back at her Dads with a puzzled frown. Calo lifted his shoulders when she looked at him before she snickered and looked at Cree.

“Why is your face purple?” she asked.

“Purple? What are you talking about? My face isn’t—” Cree growled.

Calo watched as his twin backed up and tilted until he could see his face in the mirror. Cree’s eyes widened when he glimpsed his face in the mirror.

“I’m going to rip their heads off!” he roared.

Two weeks later, Brogan strode into the officer’s quarters. Barrack was still out in the field with the new recruits. They had taken over after Cree and Calo washed their hands of the four misfits. He and his twin, centuries older than the other set of twins, wouldn’t fall for any of the tricks the four tried to pull. They had more experience under their belts for dealing with rejects such as the four now under their command.

His dragon snorted at his thoughts. Brogan frowned at his dragon’s response. The damn creature had been twitchy as hell all day long. He and Barrack had been taking turns keeping the four recruits on the move until they were too exhausted to cause any trouble.

The quartet had been on their best behavior after a few days in the brig. Kelan had ordered their confinement more to keep Cree from killing them than as punishment for what they had done. It had been two weeks and Cree’s face was still purple and Calo was still peeling gelatinous residue off his feet.

The ping of his vidcom pulled his attention from his inspection of their quarters. He had ordered Laser and Cameo to spit shine their rooms while Barrack ordered Rumor and Timber to do the same to their new starfighter.

His gaze swept over the sparkling quarters with a pleased grin. He picked up the vidcom and answered it as it pinged again. Walking into the kitchen, he requested a hot beverage from the replicator.

“This is Brogan,” he answered.

“This is Centurian Five deliveries. We have the order you placed for four hundred and seventy-two Kayman pies.”

He frowned and studied the dark blue face on the screen. “I didn’t order any Kayman pies.”

The woman held up the digital order. “I have an order for Mr. Brogan for four hundred and seventy-two Kayman pies. Here is a receipt of the credit payments.”

He scanned the information, frowning when he noticed that the credit account was used by Barrack, Delilah and himself. He was about to respond when an incoming message pinged. His frustration dissolved when he saw it was Delilah.

“Bring them in,” he instructed before connecting with Delilah. “Hello, love.”

“Hello, love? Is that all you have to say to me?” Delilah asked with a raised eyebrow.

His warm smile faltered and he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Since when did you and Barrack think Moonshine and Rum needed a shipload of squeaky toys? Will you guys knock it off?” Delilah yelled, wincing when the two Rottweilers charged past her. Brogan tilted his head to match the movement of the dogs. His eyes widened when he noticed what they were chasing. “Uh, Delilah, love, honey, those aren’t squeaky toys. Those are... Tasiers.”

He fumbled with the vidcom, almost dropping it when Delilah released a blood-curdling scream when the massive pile of squeaky toys began running in different directions. He turned as the door opened. Barrack was backing into the room, his arms overflowing with Kayman pies and a line of similarly burdened blue aliens following him.

“Brogan, what the hell is going on? Is that Delilah? Honey, what’s wrong?” Barrack demanded, trying to thrust the pies at the manager of the delivery company.

“The house-the house is infested with-with—” Delilah released another choked scream when Rum trotted up with a Tasier tucked in his mouth. “I need you both home right now!”

Brogan stared at the blank screen. He turned to Barrack, the frown deepening as the pile of pies in his brother’s arms grew. His eyes narrowed when his brother turned in a circle. It almost seemed that Barrack was trying to avoid him. His suspicion deepened when his dragon snickered again and Barrack refused to look at him.

“Where are they?” he asked.

“You were supposed to keep an eye on two of them,” Barrack muttered.

“Barrack, where... are... they?”

Barrack turned and glared at him. “Where’re your two?”

“They’re—”