Clan Honor and Empire Read online

  Clan Beginnings

  CLAN, HONOR, AND EMPIRE

  A Clans of Kalquor Story

  By

  Tracy St. John

  © copyright April 2014, Tracy St. John

  Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill, © copyright May 2014

  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.

  Kindle Edition

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  Prologue

  BOOK ONE: RAJHIR AND FLENCIK

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  BOOK TWO: BREFT

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  This book is the prequel to Alien Embrace, Clans of Kalquor Book 1. It takes place about 25 years prior to the events of that book.

  Prologue

  The Kalquorian Empire was and still is a civilization of great importance to the Galactic Council of Planets. The fierce but intelligent species has been at the forefront of technological, medical, and scientific breakthroughs for millennia. Their military might has never been in question; even their ancient enemy, the opportunistic race of Tragooms, hesitates to attack a Kalquorian force half its size.

  However, Kalquor’s survival is in jeopardy. The force that has threatened this mighty race is not one that wields weaponry. It cannot even be seen with the naked eye. It is a virus.

  Centuries ago, this virus struck the home world of Kalquor, wiping out a substantial number of its people, particularly the females. Symptoms included massive bleeding of the body’s major organs, along with those of the female reproductive tract. Damaging the x-chromosome of the Kalquorians, the virus’ effects went beyond death. The majority of women not killed outright were rendered infertile, and daughters born to those who could bear children were not guaranteed the ability to do the same. The virus altered the very DNA of the entire race.

  In an effort to keep their race from going extinct and prevent fighting amongst the men, family groups called clans were formed. Each clan was made up of one female known as the Matara (childbearer) and representatives of each of the three breeds of male: the Dramok (leader), Imdiko (caregiver), and Nobek (protector).

  A Matara may not join a clan until the three male members are in place. There is no guarantee a clan will attract a female since the women are so rare. In their absence, the men forge close, often intimate, relationships with each other. As the Kalquorian Book of Life reminds us, Even the strongest warrior must find a fortress for his heart, the walls of which are built from the love of others.

  Book One, Rajhir and Flencik

  Chapter 1

  Rajhir, son of Clan Gegra, sat across the desk from his Dramok father. He took care not to fidget despite the growing late hour. A certain lovely young Matara had commed him earlier today to let him know she was in Kalquor’s capital city. Rajhir knew better than to squander such an opportunity. Even with his family’s status, women were not easy to find. A promised date was never to be missed. Rajhir got more than his fair share of Kalquorian female companionship compared to other men his age, but such encounters amounted to perhaps only four a year.

  However, the young Dramok knew better than to hurry his father. Gegra did everything with precision, which meant with all of his attention. Right now the elder man’s focus was locked fully on the message he composed for a client.

  The two men sat in the office Rajhir’s mother had given Gegra to work in after he’d lost his bid to remain on Kalquor’s Royal Council. The election had been tight to the very end, finishing 20 straight years of Gegra’s presence there. It said a lot for the charm of Dramok Ledsin – now Councilman Ledsin – that he’d managed to slip past Gegra’s high approval rating to take his seat.

  Gegra was still in the prime of his life, not ready by any means to sit at home and wait for the end. The man was only in his eighties, his life not even a third done. His ebony hair was tied back in a severe braid, baring a strong-featured face. He looked hale and hearty, his shoulders broad and muscled. His gaze was shrewd, quick to see what others missed. It had been what made him so effective against opponents in the council.

  Rajhir’s Dramok father looked like royalty himself, even in a mere lawyer’s office. True, it was a nicely appointed room. Rajhir’s mother’s practice was well regarded, not just in the Eastern Seaboard Territory’s jurisdiction, but all the Empire. Matara Nivere had built her clientele with none of Gegra’s impressive contacts, relying on her own legal expertise and acumen. She handled not just contracts but criminal cases as well. Prosecutors knew they had a serious fight on their hands when they faced Nivere of Clan Gegra.

  The offices of her firm took up two floors of the cliff dwelling that overlooked the pink sanded beaches and emerald sea of the coast. The stone ceiling had been polished to a marble sheen. Gegra’s desk was not handcarved, but it had the look of it with well-turned legs. The piece gleamed with the soft green interior of Kalquor’s native sudked hardwood.

  The dyed and patterned rugs scattered over the rock floor were hand-woven. They softened the floor, which was polished just as beautifully as the ceiling overhead. The vids behind Gegra were huge, showing a live feed of the pink stretch of sand from the nearby beach. White-foamed green waves crashed belligerently against the shore. Other walls were scattered with stills of Gegra’s long political career.

  With exaggerated ceremony, Gegra announced, “Send. And off this one goes.” He drew a breath and gave Rajhir a droll look. “I’m aiding your mother in a case. It’s against a group that opposes the government’s right to set aside revenues for reintroducing former convicts into society. Can you imagine the stupidity of not wanting job training and ongoing mental health care for felons after they’ve been released? What do these fools expect former criminals to do without help except return to their lives as criminals?” He shook his head.

  Rajhir gave him a slight smile. “It is good you were tapped for such a case.”

  That opened the door for Gegra’s favorite mantra. “It’s all about duty to the Empire, to keep it strong and sustainable. All other considerations are secondary. Which brings me to why you’re here.”

  With practiced ease, Rajhir restrained the sigh that wanted to escape. He knew what was coming. He’d been waiting for it these last couple of days. Still, he had hoped to avoid the big speech for a few weeks longer. He should have known better.

  Gegra looked at him with visible pride. “My son, Dramok Rajhir. Here you are, a young man on the threshol d of his future. Schooling and internships completed, ready to begin your journey into a life of service to your people. I have offered my congratulations?”

  Rajhir bowed his head in respect. “Yes, my father. Even if you had not spoken them, the new shuttle you gave me would have sufficed.”

  “You are enjoying it, I presume?”

  Rajhir thought of how impressed his recent Imdiko dates had been with the sleek vehicle, the newest model fresh from the factory. He thought the Matara he planned to enjoy the night with would be quite delighted to be escorted in such finery too. He couldn’t restrain the grin that spread over his face. “I’m enjoying it very much.”

  Gegra snorted. “I thought so. Imdiko Iresh’s father contacted me two days ago to remind me that his son, as infatuated as he is with you, is already promised to another Dramok. He requested you stop turning the young man’s head with expensive dinners and fine shuttles.”

  “He’s not clanned yet. Iresh can enjoy his freedom while he has it.” Rajhir kept his tone even. “Besides, I’m not chasing him. We were only having a night out as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Good. Because it’s now time to get serious about your future. While we’re on the subject of Imdikos, you have been of clanning age for two years now. No valid prospects yet?”

  “Nothing of note.”

  Rajhir was in no hurry to settle down, not even with the end goal of having a guaranteed female in his bed. He enjoyed the few Mataras available, both their company and their bodies. His family’s connections and high rank had allowed him the rare opportunity to bed the scant few in the territory. Rajhir knew six such women, and to judge by how they always commed him when they visited the area, he knew they enjoyed him too. The one who had contacted him just today had not asked him if he had time to visit. She simply let him know she expected to see him tonight. He looked forward to the diversion.

  To gain a female as a permanent mate, to even court one seriously, required Rajhir to first clan a male from each of the other two breeds. He needed a Nobek and an Imdiko in place for a year to prove to the Empire the unit was stable enough for the responsibility of a lifebringer and children. Rajhir had not yet met many men he was particularly attracted to so far, at least not where a permanent arrangement was concerned. Certainly there had been none he wanted to spend the rest of his 200-plus remaining years of life with. Besides, he was having fun with the various men and women he took to dinner, events, and his apartment.

  Gegra had other ideas. “You need to get to work on finding a clan caregiver, especially if you intend to have one your own age. Those Imdikos become almost as rare as the women in a dozen years after their twenty-fifth birthday.”

  Rajhir nodded absently. He was well aware that next to Mataras, Imdikos were the rarest breed. There were half as many of them as the warrior-protector Nobek breed, which also outnumbered the Dramoks.

  An Imdiko male was usually clanned before he reached the age of 30. An unclanned Imdiko over the age of 35 was damned near impossible to find. The young Iresh that was so infatuated with Rajhir was only 21, still underage to clan without parental permission. It was no surprise to know he had been promised to another Dramok before his fifteenth birthday. Fortunately, Rajhir was only 27 years old with plenty of time to find clanmates, even of the rare Imdiko variety. He was pretty sure snagging a fertile Matara wouldn’t be so hard either if he gathered enough status and rank for himself. He already had a leg up on the competition with his family connections. Surely he had little need to take on the responsibility of a clan just yet.

  It felt to him like his life was just starting. He had to think about a career in the coming months and so much more. Rajhir felt like he could delay clanning for a little while yet. He was more glad than ever that his parent clan had decided to not force any arranged clannings on him. Groups with the status of Clan Gegra usually did, determined to form alliances that would benefit their children.

  Gegra’s clan had learned the hard way that arranged clannings were not always destined to be successful ones. They had taken the lesson to heart.

  Rajhir sat back in his seat. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  Gegra’s purple eyes narrowed at the nonchalant tone, as if he suspected his only child’s ambivalence over starting a clan. Rajhir countered with a noncommittal pleasant expression.

  His father let it go. Rajhir’s relief was short-lived, however, as Gegra took up another subject the young man had hoped to avoid.

  “Now, as to your work. With the last elections, there are several new councilmen looking for aides. I have lined up an interview for you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Rajhir’s heart sank. He watched his plans to spend the next few weeks in shameless debauchery and fun begin to evaporate.

  “The council has issued an open call for new aides. I sent you a schedule and memo regarding that two weeks ago.”

  Rajhir ducked his Gegra’s gaze. “Oh. Apologies, my father. I must have forgotten.”

  Gegra sighed and continued on. “Not only are the new councilmen looking for aides, but Councilman Teken’s aide has also resigned. That’s the interview you’re to go to.”

  Rajhir’s heart sunk even further. Dramok Teken was a good man, but only a so-so councilman. He should have retired ages ago, having hit the two-century mark plus almost three decades. The man hated alterations in legislation, resisting even change that most agreed would benefit the Empire. It wasn’t that Teken didn’t care; he was simply set in his ways. He kept getting re-elected because he was like everyone’s favorite uncle, one they all felt affectionate duty towards. Rajhir believed the ancient Dramok would probably die in his private chambers. His clanmates long dead, Teken had nothing but the Empire to devote himself to now, though he often dozed off during most council meetings. No one had the heart to retire him.

  Rajhir didn’t want to be the aide to an old man who had outlived his usefulness in the council. He wanted to be in the middle of negotiations and the brutal arguments that sometimes resulted in actual physical fighting between councilmen. Rajhir wanted to distinguish himself, and that meant working for someone who would do the same. The twinge of guilt he felt over not wanting to take care of Teken couldn’t quash his desire to be on the front lines of the political fights. Damn it, if he was going to have to start his career, it should be something that fired him up.

  This was about what Gegra wanted, however. Teken was the second representative of their territory and a guaranteed in for Rajhir to get a foothold in the highest workings of the Empire. The young Dramok steeled himself for the duty required of him.

  “Okay. I take it I shouldn’t bother applying to anyone but Councilman Teken?”

  Gegra surprised him. “Apply to anyone you think is worthy, if only for the practice and to get to know something about them. Such information is always valuable to the man you report to. Just be sure Teken receives your highest consideration. I have no doubt he’ll offer you the post.” The elder Dramok sighed. “We go back so far.”

  For a moment, Gegra’s expression reflected unspeakable sorrow. Rajhir’s heart throbbed with sudden sympathy for his father’s loss in the election. Law practice was fine, but it couldn’t approach the thrill of the fighting and dealing that went on in council chambers and on the floor, especially when the Imperial Clan was present.

  He told his father, “I’m sure you’ll regain your seat in the next election. Once the people realize your opponent was all charm and no substance, they’ll beg you to return.” Rajhir couldn’t resist adding, “You have my word I will not approach Dramok Ledsin for an aide posting. That is, unless you’d like me to spy on his doings?”

  Rajhir only joked, of course. There was no way Ledsin would hire his opponent’s son as an aide. There was also no way Rajhir would work for the bastard.

  Gegra snorted. The man who’d won his seat had done so by a mere two-digit margin of the popular vote. Rajhir was sure his father knew the next election would have Gegra back in the Royal Coun cil.

  The elder Dramok supported that belief with his statement. “Ledsin is an ass and the district will realize that without any help from us.” He gave Rajhir a sly grin. “Perhaps after the next election I’ll steal you away from Teken to work with me.”

  “I do want to learn from the best, my father.”

  Gegra’s smile faded as his gaze flicked over Rajhir’s shoulder. His features went hard as stone in an instant. “Good afternoon, my Matara. Is your workday over?”

  Rajhir twisted in his chair to see his mother Nivere walking into the room. Her lovely face was as distant as Gegra’s as she answered. “It is. Shall I wait for you or go home on my own, my Dramok?”

  Gegra busied himself with his computer. “I am nearly finished if you would be kind enough to wait for a few minutes.”

  “That is not a problem.”

  Nivere turned her attention to Rajhir. Her smile, the loveliest thing he knew in his life, spread over her fine-boned face. It lifted his heart.

  Rajhir’s mother had clanned young, and she barely looked older than the women he himself dated. Her thick black hair waved gently to her knees, but for the crown of braids that circled at the top. Her purple gown matched her almond-shaped eyes, bringing their light shining from her face. The dress was custom-sewn for her, a sleeveless light sheath that reached her slippered feet. She held out long, toned arms to Rajhir, inviting his embrace.

  Rajhir stood, pausing long enough to bow respectfully before accepting the gift of her hug. As always, he experienced a tug of pain in his heart over the distance between his parents. He understood Gegra’s coldness towards Nivere. Perhaps it was disloyal to love her so much, but Rajhir couldn’t help his devotion. Hers was the first smile he remembered as a child, and her voice had offered the first encouragements. No wrong she had ever committed could remove the adoration he felt for her.