questions and found out Imdikos in my age group are scheduled to be called up next month. It was going to happen whether I had good reasons to sign up or not.” Vax tucked his handheld in his belt pouch. “What should we do for lunch? I’m starved.”
“But—your jobs. Your career. What about the restaurant you wanted to open?” Bacoj was in disbelief.
“See, that was the deciding factor. It turns out that if I join up before being drafted, I’ll receive a hefty signing bonus.” Vax’s grin, already impossibly large, grew.
“The military can’t possibly pay as much as your resort position.”
“It doesn’t, but did I mention the generous signing bonus? It makes up for the shortfall. If the war is won within a year, I’ll be six months ahead on my own restaurant’s fund.”
“That’s an incredible incentive.” It was starting to make sense. However, Bacoj was still rattled by Vax’s gamble. “Did you stop to think what they might be having you do? Or where you’ll be assigned?”
“That’s the other reason I went for it. Say hello to your carrier’s head cook. Wherever you end up, I follow.”
Bacoj’s jaw dropped. “We’re shipping out together? How did you finagle that?”
“Early signup for an Imdiko means choice of duty, as long as it’s within reason. Plus, I told the recruiter you’re my intended Dramok.”
My intended Dramok. The words rang in Bacoj’s skull. He couldn’t breathe for several seconds.
At last he managed to croak, “Am I?”
Vax shrugged, but his expression wasn’t casual. He studied Bacoj’s face, as if looking for the answer there. “It’s too early to tell, don’t you think? We’ll be able to figure it out now that we have the chance to know each other better.”
Bacoj struggled for something to say. In the chaos churning his brain, he could only manage, “I’m grateful for the opportunity. I’m—I hope I can make it worth your while. Outside of the big bonus, I mean.”
“If it doesn’t work out, we’ll break it off. No harm, no foul, right?”
Suddenly, being drafted didn’t feel quite so awful. Bacoj was still screwed as far as his hopes for school, but he had a real chance to win Vax.
All things considered, life was pretty damned okay after all.
“I did one other thing too.”
The mischief playing over Vax’s expression had Bacoj chuckling. “Spill it, you fiend.”
“I asked why Karil wasn’t serving, what with him being a Nobek of drafting age and all. I told them that to my knowledge, he’s fit enough to fight. They’re checking into it.”
Bacoj gaped at him before hilarity hit. He laughed while the line of Dramoks and the greeting soldiers stared at him. Vax laughed with him, tears rolling down his cheeks.
* * * *
“Drafted?”
Matara Felac went pale. Her hand, gripping a glass of leshella, had frozen halfway on its trek to her mouth. After a couple of beats, she set it down on the spotless white tablecloth covering the large formal dining table.
Vax put his own glass down, ready to spring to her assistance should she faint. She probably wouldn’t. He thought Felac would prefer to stab herself in the throat rather than commit such a breach of dignity. It was clear that decorum was important to Bacoj’s mother, from her own appearance to that of her impeccable home. The only cracks in her flawless poise centered on Bacoj. She hadn’t merely embraced him when they’d arrived at the apartment in the fine Etaret Cavern System, where the smallest living spaces went for fifty years’ worth of Vax’s Nepor salary. She’d clung to her son, at last tearing herself away with obvious effort.
Now the lovely Matara, hair coiled at her crown without a strand out of place, sat speechless. Her hand crept toward Bacoj’s despite Imdiko Sadiv sitting between them, reaching with discernable trembling.
“I leave for combat training in a month,” Bacoj confirmed.
“You’re fighting?”
Vax thought she’d faint after all, especially since her clanmates were watching her with obvious concern. Sadiv touched her shoulder as Nobek Deehur tossed his napkin next to his half-finished plate.
“He already said he’ll be a shuttle supply pilot. Combat training is a requirement for all troops during wartime, whether they’re to fight or not. I doubt he’ll see any action.” Deehur, like most elder Nobeks who served in the ground forces, was a roadmap of scars. His nose was crooked from who knew how many fights. His gaze had a hectic intensity that reminded Vax of his own Nobek father’s. Yet for all the aura of restrained ferocity,