Desolator: Book 2 (Stellar Conquest) Read Online Free

could salvage another stabilizer…”
    “If, if, if. If we did that, Desolator might object, and take back all your toys,” the old Ryss hissed.
    “You have done well, Klis,” Chirom broke in, stepping between the Eldest Mother and the technologist. “Please continue to search, and let us know what you may find. We will be in the warm-room. Come, Eldest. You must be tired.”
    Trissk watched the interplay from the open doorway, fading back as the five elders swept past him, heading for the central living space of the Ryss. The warm-room was the one area that maintained a comfortable temperature, next to one of Desolator ’s few functioning fusion reactors. After they left he stepped into the tap-room.
    “Ho, Trissk.”
    “Ho, Klis.” He stopped, suddenly embarrassed. The sleek young tech would soon come into her first fertility, as he was acutely aware. She also finds me pleasing. I would give anything if she will glorify me first , he thought; but for all his usual glibness, he could not make words come.
    A paw fell on his shoulder, claws digging in insultingly. Trissk snarled and rounded on the owner, a large yearsmane called Vusk.
    “Ho, there, orphan youngling,” Vusk said with snide confidence. “No need to jump. Just thought I’d say hello to my Promised.” He smiled a closed-mouth grin at Klis, for of course showing teeth meant something else entirely.
    “I’m not your Promised, Vusk.” Klis said demurely, batting her long lashes at the bigger male. “And it’s not Trissk’s fault his dam was killed in the war.”
    “Of course, pretty one.” Turning to Trissk, Vusk made waving motions with the backs of his digits. “You may go now.”
    Trissk hissed between his fangs and turned to leave the tap-room. Unless he was willing to challenge Vusk to personal combat, there seemed little he could do about his rival.
    “Farewell, Trisski,” the mocking voice of Vusk floated after him. Then, faintly to Klis: “Don’t worry about that maneless wonder. I’ll keep you company. What were the Decrepit Ones so excited about, anyway?”
    Klis’ reply was lost in the groaning and humming of the battered ship as Trissk stomped down the corridor toward the warm-room. Why does she tolerate him? Why does she not order him away? Females choose whom they will. What does Vusk have that she wants? Besides size and maturity and confidence and good looks and a long thick mane…
    He forced thoughts of Klis and Vusk out of his head and turned his mind to Desolator ’s situation, and his eavesdropping. Perhaps he could catch Chirom’s eye for a private audience and explain.
    Rounding a corner, he got his wish as he ran headlong into the elder. Seeing him, Chirom grasped the younger Ryss’ shoulders and pulled him into a side corridor, pinning him up against the wall. “You were spying,” he accused, shaking Trissk in his grip.
    “Yes, Elder, but only because I wish to know what is going on. I meant no harm.”
    Chirom let him go with another shake, holding up a pawful of naked claws. “I really should mark you where you stand, that you not forget your place.” Retracting his natural weapons with a stern glare, he relaxed slightly in the narrow space. “You still must explain yourself.”
    “Perhaps somewhere more private?” Bold, Trissk, but I must seize this opportunity .
    “Perhaps.” Chirom eyed the adolescent. “You know such a place?” Privacy was difficult to find in the small warm section Desolator allotted them, which was why the Council of Elders met in a dim chill cargo bay.
    “I do, but it is cold.”
    “Everything is cold,” Chirom responded, fastening his worksuit collar higher beneath his impressive mane.
    Trissk led Chirom down narrow side corridors until he stood in front of an old, non-functioning lift. Removing a mechanical key from around his neck, the younger Ryss unlocked the doors, then forced them open with a flip of a small crowbar from his work pouch, revealing an empty shaft