“Get moving,” I shouted into the other room. “I want to see our mate. I don’t give a shit what Karter thinks.”
Seth stuck his head out of the bathing room. “No fucking way. Trust me. We’re totally pussy whipped. I’ve admitted it and you need to as well. We can’t just go barging into the control deck looking like Chloe has us tied by a string to our balls.”
Shit, he was right.
“Fine,” I replied, not thrilled. I picked up my pillow, dropped it back on the bed to get it just the way I liked it, then rolled over onto my belly. Shit, my cock was not going to let me lay that way so I turned on my side. “I’m going back to sleep. I’m sure I’ll get called out soon enough.”
Chapter 9
Chloe
* * *
I'd been sitting at my new post for several hours scanning for high frequencies, listening for anomalies. Four years of training came back to me slowly, bit by bit. I could still do the job, the experimental NPU in my skull assured that. But without the adaptive headpiece unit, I was at a disadvantage. Since there wasn’t one on the Karter, and he hadn’t mentioned it, I had to assume no one here was aware of the technology. It wasn’t my place, or rank, to share something that was top secret.
No matter, I'd make this work.
I was excited to be back at a post, feeling like a member of the team. I'd never been good sitting idle, and I was more than relieved to discover that I would have a place on this battleship doing a job that mattered. Helping to fight the Hive.
At the same time, I could satisfy my mates. Not just sexually, which was pretty darn amazing, but emotionally as well. I knew how much they didn’t want me going on a mission. I felt it through the collars, saw the way they’d behaved with Commander Karter the day before. Heard them say the words. I’d compromise, meet this need in them to keep me safe. And in return, they’d give me what I needed. A safe place to relinquish all control, to be protected and cherished as I did so. I could just be me. Chloe Phan, or Lady Mills. Not Commander. They’d mated me, not the high-ranking officer.
The constant hum and buzz of activity on the command deck was comforting. I'd missed it. Missed the consistent routine of a well-oiled machine, of officers who knew one another so well they could anticipate each other’s moves in the eye of the storm.
Commander Karter stood like a statue of marble in the center of the room. Nothing seemed to faze him. But I recognized the mantle of command that settled on his shoulders as he let his teams do their jobs. He was what the crew needed him to be and so I would be, too.
I returned my attention to the communications panel. The provided headset I wore was so ancient, I had removed it in frustration for the third time when I looked up to see Commander Karter standing before me holding a small box that I recognized. I gasped. Not so top secret after all. “How did you get that?”
“I don't know what you're talking about, Commander Phan,” he replied, his voice deep.
“But isn't that what I think it is?”
Commander Karter placed the small box in front of me carefully, delicately, as if he knew exactly how valuable the tech inside was. He left the box and lifted his hands away. “I don't see anything at all, Commander. I'm quite sure that Dr. Helion, of the Intelligence Core, wouldn't see anything either.” He lifted a brow and grinned, one eye moving oddly, in the closest thing to a wink I had ever seen from a Prillon warrior.
I grinned back and opened the box with shaking hands to find my old I.C. headset, the most advanced of technology. Even among the fleet. So rare that no one outside my division at I.C. had ever seen one, at least not that I knew of. But Commander Karter seemed to be rewriting all kinds of rules, just for me. He cleared his throat. “I trust this will make your job easier.”
I could only
nod as I slipped the odd earpiece over my head and waited for the metallic click and familiar hum in my head as it connected with the NPU implanted in my skull, just beneath the skin. I felt like a walking computer when I wore it.
The device amplified sub-human frequencies and slowed down encrypted codes and Hive communications to give me time to hear them. It was as if I had turned on the radio and could hear a familiar and comforting song. “Yes, sir “
He nodded and seemed pleased with himself. Although, it was no wonder why. My division in the I.C. only had about a dozen codebreakers like me. And it was a very big war, spanning hundreds of star systems and Coalition worlds. “Only you are allowed to touch it, Chloe. It will be kept in my safe when you are off duty. You will give it to me or to the officer on deck at the end of every shift so that one of us can lock it up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That device doesn’t exist, and it doesn’t leave this room. Meaning, your mates can’t know.”
I bristled at his words, having him think I would ever betray a job-related secret. But I remembered he’d never had one of his commanders mated to fighters before. I was the oddity and the connection I shared with Seth and Dorian was close. Perhaps too close, especially with the collars. He was wise to offer the warning, but it was unnecessary.
“I understand, sir.” And I did. This was dangerous technology. I was shocked they’d allowed Commander Karter to get his hands on it.
But then, not every battlegroup had an ex-I.C. officer who knew how to use it. Like me. And not every Coalition sector was locked in daily battle with the Hive, like Karter’s battlegroup. Sector 437 was notorious for being a living hell, the one place most sane warriors dreaded to go. The only warriors happy to be here were glory hounds or trigger-happy adrenaline junkies.
Ironic that for me, it was the opposite. I was happier than I’d ever been in my life, and it had nothing to do with the war, and everything to do with my mates.
I sat down and started my work again from the beginning, this time deciphering exponentially more of what I heard. The complex computer software that the Coalition Fleet used for standard operations could decode most Hive transmissions on their standard frequencies, ship to ship, or across space. But the internal connections of their Hive minds were more intuitive and less machine-like than one would guess. There was a rhythm and flow to them. Something I instinctively understood, something their computer systems had not yet been able to crack because it was too organic. Not illogical. Too human.
I sat back in the chair and continued to work for several hours, comfortable knowing my mates were occupied. It felt odd to be in space again, yet with mates. I was surprised how often my mind turned to them. Dorian, I knew, was sleeping. After they’d fucked me into exhaustion, I’d heard a ping calling him to a late flight mission. I didn’t know how long he’d been gone, but when he climbed back in bed, he’d kissed me, wrapped his arms around me and promptly fallen asleep.