Araman's Aria Read online

  Araman’s Aria

  By

  Suzanne Embree

  © Copyright by Suzanne Embree, May 2009

  Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, May 2009

  ISBN 978-1-60394-313-0

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  For Amber

  Chapter One

  The sleek silver arrow-shaped craft came to a screeching halt on the black asphalt. Within seconds the door slid open and Araman Diago, the Commandant of Olean Intelligence of the Raylin Lunar System stepped out under a cloak of anger. His blonde height of six feet and six inches was intimidating enough to the underlings but the black uniform emphasizing his hard muscular frame instilled a sense of fear.

  Araman was too furious to face the council he had been summoned to. His mission had been jeopardized by a malfunction in his ship’s cloaking device. With skill he managed to evade the enemy’s firing but the discharge had then alerted his superior on Olean to the situation. Just as he made it to safety his monitor floated down with the red angry face of his superior. “You… will… report immediately…understand immediately to my office, Commandant.” The red fleshy face uttered out in a stilted harsh manner. The screen floated upwards and out of his sight line.

  As he walked across the tarmac, he coldly eyed his Second-in-command leaning against the door with a smirk on his face. Araman was in no mood for the man’s sharp wit. He gave an abrupt nod to the reddish brown-haired man equal in height and weight. The only other differences were a year in age and their rank.

  “You know what this means?” The voice followed Araman as he entered the metal doors of a long glassed-in walkway.

  “I can only guess.” Araman said with ice in his voice to the grinning shadow behind him. “I am certain you have duties to attend to Commander.” He spoke as though he were bored of the conversation already. He stopped in front of a door and grabbed the file waiting for his attention.

  “You’ll end up with an M E.” Santari moved up beside his scowling Commandant.

  “I have already denied issue of a military escort. I use the brothels like the other men.” Araman was tired of his accusation. His libido levels seemed more of an importance to everyone than the security of their world and its territories.

  Santari scoffed at him. “You?” He snickered at his friend, “At a brothel? You’re like one of those outdated Terrian monks that still believe that abstinence leads to enlightenment.”

  “And where would I find the time to indulge a sex slave?” The harsh words went unheard on Santari. Araman stopped abruptly and stared at him. “I have a Division to run.”

  “Military escorts are disposable.” Santari continued walking.

  “You,” Araman said to the backside of the commander, “Are the first reason why we are at odds with Oleander.” He referred to Olean’s sister planet.

  Santari reached a set of heavy black steel doors. He opened it as a doorman for Araman. He bent into a slight bow and gestured Araman through with an extravagant wave of his hand.

  “And when we make peace with Oleander, I will be the first to be willing to kiss and make up.” He chuckled as he followed Araman into a hallway leading inside the stark blank white walls.

  “And you have an operations meeting in five minutes.” Araman’s rude manner was lost on Santari who just shrugged at his superior.

  Araman stopped in front of a white door marked with the same insignia that sat on the right sleeve of his shoulder. A silver wing embossed into the black of the cloth. He smoothed his flight jacket and walked in shutting the door on Santari’s face.

  He turned around and snapped to attention in front of his superior, Commander General Herse who sat at his desk. Even sitting it could be seen that Herse was smaller by a foot, with graying hair and jowls that sat on his face in a permanent frown. His eyes were hidden under thick flaps of skin. Smoke from a cigar billowed like a cloud above his head.

  “What in Frigg do you think you were doing?” The General’s eyes never left the paper he was reading.

  “Contact was made with a potential informant Sir. An underling for the Oleander Mistress of Strategic Warfare. We were to meet in the Thrillian star system in three lunar hours.”

  “I assume,” the General’s voice was very dry as he drawled on each word, “you had your ship thoroughly inspected upon departure.”

  “Yes Sir, as per regulations.” Araman answered.

  “I assume your report will have an explanation as to why you exposed yourself to the enemy.” He flipped a page, cigar still in hand.

  “The cloaking device was operational before take off, Sir. I have ordered a complete diagnostic inspection of my ship. I will forward the results with my report Sir.” Araman pushed through his tight lips.

  “I have this.” Herse picked up and tossed a small diskette to the edge of his desk. “Speaking of regulations, I understood you refused yet again an escort?”

  Araman cleared his throat. “Yes Sir.”

  “That is the results of your last physical. Your libido levels are at a high risk factor. You are hereby ordered to take in your service and care a concubine to be provided for you until such time as when you marry. Until your level has returned to normal you will be confined to quarters.” He waved his hand holding the cigar wafting the smoke into clouds. “Dismissed.”

  Araman gave a curt nod then tightly turned around. He opened the door and stalked out. He was thankful that Santari was no where to be seen as he strode out the hallway and back to the walkway that led to the tarmac. A quick glance over the rail to the empty pad told him his flyer was already under inspections.

  Footsteps echoed behind Araman as he walked at a brisk pace to his quarters. The general was making sure that he went directly to his quarters. He scowled as he turned towards the towers designated for Military Division Commandant’s and their families.

  The towers stood in a row of four, erected from glass and steel. Beyond the towers were the houses for the soldiers who were married and beyond that was the barracks for the singles. At the end of the barracks were the brothels that helped the soldiers become better men.

  Araman grimaced as he approached the pod lift to his quarters. He never believed the thought that sex made a better soldier out of a man as the Olean armed forces believed. The doors of the lift opened as he neared. Araman stepped inside and turned around facing his silent escorts. He gave them a curt nod as the doors closed and the pod moved.

  As the glass egg-shaped elevator rose higher Araman’s mood became worse. The last thing he needed in his life was a woman to take care of. One that even wasn’t of his choosing was even more so distasteful. The pod slowed to a stop then spun Araman around to a scan of his eye before doors to his quarters opened.

  He stepped inside removing his flight jacket as the doors behind him closed and melded themselves into the glass of the dome. All four Military Commandants were given the tower domes as their living quarters. The General of course, lived wherever he wanted to.

  There was a central sunken living space that looked over the mountainous terrain the base was nestled against. The level Araman stood on held the bar and gallery with stools up against the open counter. Behind the wall of the cooking range, was the internal elevator that led to the base’s underground. Beside that stood the toilet and shower room that connected to his dressing room.

  The walkways on either side of the middle sectors bowed in the contours of the dome both leading to an open spacious sleeping chamber. Araman made his wa
y on the plush white carpet to the edge of his bed where he sat to remove his boots and socks.

  Leaving them in a heap Araman decided he needed a shower. There in the steam he hoped to clear his mind of what went wrong with his mission. He stepped into the hot water and relished the spray on his taut muscles. He pressed his palms against the cool tile of the wall and leaned with his back arched slightly under the massaging droplets of water.

  He knew his cloaking device was operational before take off. Everything on his control board indicated he was cloaked. A curse passed Araman’s lips as he pushed off the wall and stepped forward, putting his face under the water.

  A blinking light through the thick steam flashed like a beacon trying to get Araman’s attention. He muttered a longer stream of curses as he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. He grabbed a flannel pair of workout pants and threw them on just as a soft beep emitted from the hallway.

  The soft whir of the elevator reached his ears as Araman came down the hallway. He heard the porter clink to a stop before the doors opened with a swish. Two armed guards escorted a cloaked figure in. The head was hidden behind the folds of the cape’s hood as it stared at the floor.

  “Commandant.” The young soldier gave him a curt nod then abruptly handed him paperwork to sign on a metal clipboard. Araman glared as he signed at the bottom in triplicate. The guard stepped to the side as the cloaked figure was pushed forward. The two heavily armed soldiers gave another curt nod to him, stepped back into the lift and disappeared behind the dull black steel.

  Delicate hands appeared from underneath the folds of brown rough material. He watched with interest as they gently pushed back the hood. Black hair entwined with gold tumbled out. The silky spiraled tresses made Araman’s hand itch to run through them while drinking in the softness her locks promised. A soft cinnamon scent surrounded him as she lifted her head slightly. She still looked to the ground with her hands clasped in front of her.

  He reached out, put a finger underneath her chin, and raised her gaze to meet his. Araman felt his heart slam into his chest as his eyes met hers. Long lashes that curled up to meet with her thin high arched brows. Her lashes were black framing the almond shaped eyes almost looking as though she wore kohl to enhance them. The color of her eyes intrigued him. They were such a light green they reminded him of the ancient Terrian stone Jade.

  A glint from the side of her nose caught Araman’s attention. He turned her face to see a small clear gemstone sparkling as it caught the light streaming in from the setting sun. He noticed her skin was not pale like the Oleander women but like the color of caramel dusted in powder of copper.

  She swallowed nervously as this man scrutinized her face from side to side. She lowered her gaze as he studied the language translator embedded in her nose. At best it only provided some help. She did not need a translator to figure out she was pleasing her new master. The intensity of his gaze frightened her.

  Araman’s hand dropped back down beside him. The fear in her eyes said enough. He was at a loss for words to reassure her as Araman stared at this tiny dark creature that had entered his life. He was not expecting the effect she had on him either. Fear in a woman’s eyes never bothered him. In battle it meant he was victorious.

  He gestured to her to follow him in to the central living space of his quarters. She stood while he sat reading the papers he had just signed. He skipped the military crap until he came to the information of his concubine. She was captured on her way to Oleander as a possible recruit for their intelligence division. He glanced for her name. He frowned when he could not find the data.

  “Bloody Frigg!” Araman instantly regretted his outburst watching the way the young woman jumped. The forces couldn’t even supply her name; she was that disposable to them. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. There were some things that Araman did not like about the military and their casual attitude with captured women was one of them.

  “What is your name?” Araman asked glancing up at her.

  “I am called Brea.” Her voice was soft when she spoke with a slight lilt. Araman was fascinated with the way she spoke or rather, almost sang her words.

  “You are not Oleander.” He stated the obvious.

  “No, I am from Shinwa, in the Corium star system.” She started to fidget with the material of her cloak. Brea was unsure if she should continue but the look of expectancy of more was in his icy blue eyes. “I was on my way to Oleander when the ship was taken.”

  Brea neglected to tell him she was on her way to receive her position when she was captured. She managed a quick message to inform Oleander of her status. The reply was disheartening for any hopes of being saved.

  “If you live, garner information in case of rescue. Good Luck.” She frowned.

  “Why were you going to Oleander?” Araman interrupted her thoughts. He indicated to the chair for her to sit. He liked the fact she refused and stood standing.

  She hesitated before answering. She had never avoided the truth before. Brea glanced up at his stern expression and decided it would be an unwise time to start. “I was recruited by the Intelligence Commission to train their soldiers.”

  A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth at the small slip that stood in front of him. Her cloak could not disguise the fact she was a woman, but what warfare could this one teach?

  Brea glared at his amusement of her answer. It was the same reaction that his superior had when he interrogated her, until she told him what she was trained in. She wondered if his reaction would be the same.

  “Your size alone implies you deal with the gentler arts. You have no scars on your hands or face, which suggests you have never handled a weapon or ever been near one.” He cast his eyes in her direction. “You certainly have not seen combat.” Araman challenged.

  Brea’s back stiffened at his words. She leveled her eyes to his. Araman swore he saw bursts of green sparks flying from them.

  “Only a man would think of a weapon as the only means to destroy. And only a man would think because one does not bare the signs of combat, she has not seen combat or engaged.” Her words were calm but Araman did not mistake their meaning.

  “Only a fool would think such a thing.” Araman stood noting she fought not to run from him. It pleased him, for some strange reason that she had a backbone and would meet a challenge from him. He crumpled the sheets in his hand as Araman scanned the hall.

  “Where are your belongings?” He asked walking up the stairs to the higher floor.

  Brea did not answer but instead a slight moan escaped her mouth. Araman froze at the sound. He slowly turned around to see a tear slip down her cheek.

  “Brea? What happened?” He demanded in a harsh tone he instantly regretted at her wince. “What happened?” his voice was softer. Araman did not want to terrorize her any more than she had been already.

  “Traveling with me was my little pet. Everything was taken from me and I was told it would be destroyed. He…he… is only…a baby.” She managed to get out. Brea squeezed her eyes closed, shutting out the memory of voices threatening to hurt her little companion. “I was told… as your concubine, you… you… would dress me and give me such things my behavior w…w…warrants.” She stammered out.

  When he made no response she opened her eyes to see his muscular back leaving the room and emerged dressed a split second later. The black of his turtle necked pullover accented the fury that showed on his face. He summoned for the lift.

  “I will be back. And for Frigg’s sake get rid of that bloody awful cape!” He disappeared behind the black door as it closed. Brea clenched her fists commanding every inch of her body to freeze while trying to control the sob threatening to rip from her throat. It escaped. The sound followed Araman down.

  Araman boiled as the lift sped its way to the basement offices. The use of force and threats was against regulations. Someone else was going to pay for bringing that woman into his life. In a matter of less than an hour he had felt a range
of emotions he had managed to evade for the majority of his life. It had to be her. What else could explain this sudden urge of chivalry?

  The lift doors finally opened as he stormed out. Those that came across him in the hallways thought it best to stay away, far away as possible from Araman. He crashed through the doors in to the warehouse and stores looking for a human to yell at. A young soldier started to shake as the Commandant barged up to his counter.

  “Where’s the animal from the capture of thirteen hundred lunar hours yesterday?” Araman demanded.

  “It just left for research.”

  Araman nearly broke the doors leaving the stores area. He would have normally chuckled at the sigh he heard upon his exit but he was determined to find this animal of Brea’s. It dawned on him he shouldn’t care about it or the sobbing woman he left behind.

  And now he was breaking a direct order to stay confined hunting down this pet. If Araman were quick about it, none would be the wiser. He spied the white coats as they were called, turning to his right ahead. He caught up with them at the lift doors.

  Araman reached out and turned the nearest one around whose hands were empty. The one next to him tried to get on the elevator before the Commandant grabbed him. Just as his foot reached the inside of the lift he was yanked back.

  “That is mine.” Araman growled and reached for the squirming animal.

  “It belongs…”

  “It belongs to me!” Araman turned around to two armed guards and Herse standing behind him. Herse gave a nod to the white coats, which were more than happy to leave the scene.

  He stood shaking his head at Araman with his jowls held in a stern expression.

  “Do I need to place men at your door?” The dry voice calmly asked.