Moonstruck by Susan Grant Page B

rank to their shoulders. The men were stunned, but no more than Finn.
    “Rakkelle Pehzwan.”
    “Yes, ma’am!” With the prospect of staying on board now looking promising, she’d perked up. She practically jumped forward to stand in front of Bandar.
    “Your situation is different, I’m afraid. You’re a pilot. In our military system, pilots are officers. I can’t make you an officer with no training.”
    “Aye…” Rakkelle looked suddenly smaller, under-fed. Like a sad stray.
    “I have another solution.”
    Rakkelle’s eyes widened as Bandar fastened two small patches to her shoulders. “Cadet Space-class Pehzwan, your academic and military training will run concurrently with your service aboard this ship. Should you prove worthy, you’ll be commissioned with the Triad rank of ensign.”
    Rakkelle whooped, pumping her fist.
    Bandar’s nostrils flared in disapproval, and Rakkelle blushed. “Sorry, Admiral. Sorry! I’m just so…” Rakkelle met Finn’s furious glare and snapped to attention. Somehow, she managed a salute that wasn’t half-bad. “Thank you, ma’am. I will prove worthy of my promotion.”
    Bandar returned the salute and dismissed the trio.
    They returned to their seats where they were welcomed by a rowdy contingent of Drakken. Finn shook his head. Zurykk and Bolivarr quieted them, but not before they’d won dark looks from some on the Coalition crew. A treaty wasn’t going to erase centuries of bad blood overnight.
    Especially where he, Bandar’s unwanted, Hordish second-in-command, was concerned. Why hadn’t she informed him of her decision to promote his crew members? She had to have known the solution would please him. Did she intend to leave him out of the loop the rest of the voyage? I think not.
    Bandar turned to him. “Have all hands prepare for launch.”
    “All hands prepare for launch!” Finn repeated, shouting the order to the entire room. Then he placed his body between her and the audience. “Admiral.”
    “Yes, Warleader?”
    “I didn’t know you weren’t dismissing the three civs until you pinned rank on their shoulders. I didn’t like the surprise.”
    She lifted that blasted brow. “You don’t agree with the decision?”
    “It was your making it without my knowing that I don’t agree with.” He didn’t miss her surprise at voicing his disapproval before the chill returned to her expression. He was a fool to confront her before the launch and while there was still the opportunity to remove him for insubordination or any other reason she might choose. Yet, as hungry as he was for this job, he had no intention of being a figurehead while performing it. He had his pride—as an officer and as a man. “I do thank you for what you did, especially for Rakkelle. I am grateful, and so are they.”
    “Again, your gratitude is misplaced. This is a military ship. No civilians allowed.”
    “You could have kicked them off.”
    “We’re short-handed.”
    She refused to accept thanks for her kind acts. Her hatred of his kind was well-documented; perhaps she didn’t want to be caught showing mercy to the Horde. Yet her demand that he and Bolivarr see the ship’s physician and her giving three Drakken civilians what amounted to battlefield promotions fell under the definition of compassion, whether she was ready to admit it or not.
    Her hands were behind her, clasped tightly and pressed to the small of her back, a sign of tension she might not think was obvious, but he did. Street rat turned pirate turned battleship captain Finn Rorkken missed little when it came to body language. He never would have survived this long if that hadn’t been the case.
    “Thank you for sharing your concerns, Warleader.” Her voice was calm but definitely strained. She turned and walked toward the private lift they’d ride up to the bridge.
    As they waited for the door to open, he pressed his point. “I’m your first officer, the second-in-command on this ship. Drakken I may be,