Clan and Commit - Tracy St. John Page 0,1

from top to bottom. I hate companies where the boss orders his workers around without having the first clue of what he’s talking about.”

It made sense. Vax spoke with a confidence that belied his youth. “Smart guy.”

The Imdiko grinned. Before Bacoj could ask him more in hope of keeping the cutie talking to him, a customer at the end of the bar signaled for Vax’s attention.

As the bartender-slash-chef walked off, Bacoj watched with admiration. The Imdiko was trim, his vee-neck shirt and black trousers cut so that his toned body could be properly admired. H was a hot dish himself, from head to toe.

Bacoj sighed, his mood darkening again. An Imdiko of Vax’s age, possessing that level of intelligence, ambition, and looks, was undoubtedly off the market. Even if he weren’t already clanned, he must be promised to some Dramok with decent rank.

Not to a guy like me. Bacoj came from a notable family, but he had nothing to offer prospective clanmates. Not that he was seriously looking to form a clan at such a young age, but if the right men came along, why not?

Why not? Try lack of rank. Despite his best efforts, even the ability to climb the ladder of success had eluded him, except for a few precious minutes when it seemed all his dreams might finally be coming true. Otherwise, Bacoj had spent the last few years stuck in a respectable but insignificant job.

Thanks to the war with Earth, that trend would continue for the foreseeable future. He glanced at his com again and sucked down a mouthful of kloq. Maybe he should get drunk after all.

Vax finished waiting on the other patron and checking on others. He strolled back to Bacoj. “Finish the food, or I’ll think you were lying about how good it is.”

In an instant, the worst of the darkness lifted again. Vax’s warm presence chased off the shadows of regret. Bacoj chuckled and had another bite. Whoever Vax was promised to, the food alone would make them lucky bastards. The personality was another level of wonderful. They’d better appreciate their luck.

He said as much. Vax leaned toward him, settling his elbow on the bar. “Thanks. To be honest, I don’t—”

He froze. Vax straightened, his attention riveted on the bar’s entrance. Bacoj glanced over his shoulder to see what had chased the Imdiko’s cheerful mood away.

A man who unmistakably belonged to the warrior Nobek breed glared at Vax from the door. His demeanor was as fierce as any of his kind, but Bacoj immediately discerned there were a few unusual details about him.

He was as muscled as most Kalquorians, maybe even a touch more. Perhaps twenty years older than Bacoj, he was still a young man. Yet there was something debilitated about the Nobek. His face was gaunt, with deep shadows under his eyes. His hair, black as most of their kind, was thin and lusterless. There was a sense of great desperation that clung to him. The sort of desperation that had turned into a nasty disposition.

At that moment, that ugly nature was focused on Vax. Bacoj bristled at the unspoken threat.

“Who’s the asshole who wants a punch?” he asked.

Deras chose that moment to stomp into the bar area. He noticed the newcomer immediately, and his rough voice rose to a thunderous shout, silencing everyone. “Hey! I told you to stop coming in here, Karil. Move your ass before I com enforcement.”

Karil didn’t bother to look at the Dramok bartender. His stare remained locked on Vax. His upper lip pulled into a snarl, displaying stained teeth. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the bar.

Deras uttered a rude sound and followed it with a ruder gesture at the door. “Stupid junkie Nobek. You okay, Vax?”

Vax looked far from okay. His dark skin had paled noticeably, and a slight tremor ran through his body. He noticed Bacoj watching him and visibly gathered his nerve.

“I’m fine. He only wants to intimidate me.”

Deras snorted. “Maybe. And maybe I’m escorting you home again to make sure he keeps it at intimidation.”

Deras thudded to the other end of the bar. Bacoj continued to gaze at the now blushing Vax, who remained close but wouldn’t look at him. He fussed with glasses and bottles of liquor, appearing to tidy but not really doing anything.

Whatever had happened was none of Bacoj’s business, but he couldn’t keep himself from probing. “Why would Dramok Deras walk you home? You must have your own Nobek who can come pick