The Alliance Boxset Books 4-6

Chapter 19-2

Prymorus Achler leaned back in his chair and stared moodily at the holographic map. In the background, he could hear several men talking, including the Kassisan that had been ‘assigned’ to him. He didn’t trust the bastard. He fingered his drink as he thought about what had happened during the night.

The Kassisan had saved his life, but if he expected any special consideration or appreciation for that fact, he was in the wrong company. The Waxians were mercenaries. They liked to kill and they liked to make money. Most of the time, they did it for both, but on a few rare occasions, they did it for pleasure. The one thing they never did was keep a dangerous enemy for too long.

Cordus Kelman had done that. The Drethulans had hired a dozen Waxian warlords to do two things: deliver enough weapons to destroy the Alliance forces and discover the Trivator’s weakness. Kelman’s detailed records of the Trivator he used in the fight rings had shown them that when it came to fighting – and surviving – the warrior species were second to none. The fact that Kelman’s experiment earned him a fortune was proof of that.

He had been doubtful when the other Waxian told him about his plans. Capture several Trivators and use them in the fight ring to observe how they fought, what their endurance and pain level tolerance were, and how long they could keep fighting.

Prymorus had an idea that the Trivator would still be making Kelman credits if the bastard hadn’t killed him. The only good thing that came out of Kelman’s experiment was finally finding the Trivators’ one weakness… their females. The Trivators might protect those that are weaker, but as Razor had proven, they could also look the other way if it meant destroying an enemy – except when it came to a female that was under their protection.

Which meant a mated Trivator would do anything for his female, including not attacking those that held her as a prisoner for fear of harming her, Prymorus thought, playing with the knife as he continued to study the map.

“You appear deep in thought,” the Kassisan commented, walking toward the table where Prymorus was sitting.

A flash of anger went through him when the huge bastard placed a bottle of his most expensive liquor down on the table and poured two glasses. He watched suspiciously as the man pushed a glass in front of him before sitting down in the chair facing him. His gaze was drawn to the man’s hands.

“I don’t remember inviting you to partake of my best liquor, Dakar,” Prymorus snapped, leaning forward to snatch the bottle from across the table.

Dakar chuckled, fingering the glass before slowly raising it to his lips and taking a sip. Prymorus watched as the Kassisan seemed to savor it before swallowing. A small part of him wished the fiery liquor would burn a hole through the man’s chest.

“It is too good to waste sitting in a bottle and growing stale,” Dakar replied with a shrug. “The fighter transports destroyed the fortress, why waste time and resources on returning there?”

Prymorus turned his gaze back to the map. “I’ve sent a patrol to make sure that nothing survived. I don’t want to take a chance of any of those Trivator warriors making it out,” he growl in frustration. “The girl was key to my plans. She is under the protection of two of the most powerful Trivators in the Alliance.”

“Did you ever find out how she escaped?” Dakar asked, looking at the fortress. “It is a long way from the tower to the lower catacombs where the other prisoners were being held.”

Prymorus’ gaze narrowed and he shook his head. “I was too busy trying to kill those Trivator bastards to investigate. It seems strange that they missed you as you were wandering around the fortress. They killed many of my men before the alarm was sounded, but somehow passed you by,” he observed.

Dakar simply raised his drink and took a sip. The man was too cool, too controlled, and too lucky for Prymorus’ taste. Dakar had departed The Hole on the Bruttus Spaceport in the Tessalon galaxy shortly before the Drethulan, Jolin Talja, was killed. A group of Trivators had arrived to rescue the other caged warrior.

Last night, Dakar had appeared out of the shadows and pushed him out of the line of fire that would have killed him. What bothered him was that he had seen the Kassisan in action. He never missed his target, yet last night he had missed every time he aimed at one of the Trivator warriors.

“I’ve sent a patrol back to the fortress to make sure there were no survivors,” Prymorus added, sipping his drink. “I’ve also ordered increased patrols along the border. We need to harvest as much ore as possible.”

“Production is at full capacity,” Dakar replied with a raised eyebrow. “The workers are already stretched as far as they can go.”

“Extend their shifts,” Prymorus ordered, staring at Dakar over the rim of his glass. “I also have a mission for you.” Dakar’s lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything. “I want you to kidnap the Trivator Councilman’s woman.”

Distaste flashed across Dakar’s face and a bored expression settled over it. Prymorus watched in amusement. He was curious to see how lucky the Kassisan was at infiltrating the Trivator forces. He was also testing the Kassisan. The male was always arguing with him about the mine workers.

“I believe you killed her when you blew up the fortress,” Dakar finally said with a wave of his hand to the hologram. “That might be a rather messy mission.”

Prymorus sat back in his chair. “Not that one, she was not his woman, merely one under his protection. I want you to kidnap Razor’s female.”

Dakar grimaced. “It would be better to kill me now,” he replied dryly. “How do you propose I kidnap this woman? If I remember correctly from the reports, the last time someone tried to kidnap a Trivator’s woman, it ended badly – for the Waxian stupid enough to try it. What is the use anyway? Both Razor and Hunter are dead. The fortress, remember?”

Prymorus’ lips tightened. “Are you refusing?” he asked in a quiet tone that held a hint of malice in it.

Dakar released a deep sigh. “The Drethulans hired me to make sure you Waxians were following through with their end of the agreement. I do not work for you or any other member of the Waxian forces. The fact that I saved your ass last night was beyond my normal job guidelines. I simply did it so that production of the needed ore would not be delayed. Do not attempt to order me around, Waxian. Your species aren’t the only ones who enjoy killing.”

Prymorus placed his empty glass on the table and stood up, his hand moved to his side where he kept his laser pistol. His focus remained glued on the steely-eyed male still sitting across from him. His fingers moved to his waist, but paused. Sweat beaded on his brow. The Kassisan was too confident, and a feeling that he was suddenly in mortal danger washed through him. His hand relaxed back down to his side.

“Be careful who you threaten, Kassisan,” Prymorus growled in a soft tone. “The Drethulans can always replace you.”

Dakar casually rose out of his seat, his own blaster in his hand. The smug smile on his face was not reflected in his eyes. Prymorus’ fists clenched by his side; he had been right. The bastard probably had his weapon trained on him the entire time.

“All of us are expendable,” Dakar replied, not bothering to sheath his weapon. “I suggest you not forget that, as well, Achler. The Drethulans are expecting an update.”

Prymorus watched as Dakar’s gaze flickered to the hologram image of the fortress once more before he stepped away from the table. The Kassisan didn’t turn all the way until he could step out of the room. Prymorus leaned forward, placing his hands on the table in front of him in aggravation. He angrily stared at the map.

“I want a report from the patrol,” he ordered, turning his attention to one of the men directing movements at the communication console. “Tell them to sift through the rubble until they find every single one of the Trivators’ bodies.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied, turning and conveying the message to the patrol team.