Burning for Love (Kindred Tales)

“I believe my ‘cool head’ may be attributed to the fact that five percent of my DNA is Z’ngu, as much as the fact that I am a Dark Kindred,” J-8 said.

The Z’ngu were a reptilian race who were able to control their body temperature, no matter what the climate. The Tolleg scientist who had mixed J-8’s DNA had believed it would help him keep from overheating in the middle of battle—which, as it turned out, was perfectly true. He was able to cool his entire body at will.

The only other traits the Z’ngu DNA gave him was a perfect sense of pitch—(the Z’ngu were a musical people, who communicated through song)—and pale, metallic blue eyes that seemed to flash menacingly when they reflected any light source. They also glowed in the dark and gave him superior night vision.

J-8 had never had cause to use his sense of pitch on Zeaga Four, because it was believed that music would cause emotions and so it was forbidden. And other than his eyes, he looked perfectly Kindred, which was the other ninety-five percent of his genetic makeup.

He was seven feet tall and heavily muscled—standard for his race—with black hair which he kept short, and a neatly trimmed black beard. J-8 had never been allowed to have facial hair when he lived on Zeaga Four. He had tried it out as a novelty once he moved to the Mother Ship and decided to keep it—mostly because it was easier to trim a beard than to shave his entire face every day.

“Ah, well, Z’ngu DNA aside, I’m still certain you’re perfect for this assignment,” Commander Sylvan said.

“What exactly is the assignment, though, Commander?” J-8 asked, frowning.

Commander Sylvan leaned forward. Planting his elbows on his desk, he steepled his long fingers in front of him.

“I need to assign a warrior to be Princess Ka’rissa’s bodyguard and Constant Companion at the High Court until she finds a mate,” he said.

“A bodyguard at the High Court?” J-8 raised his eyebrows. “Forgive me, Commander Sylvan, but I’m not very well suited for any kind of diplomatic mission,” he pointed out. “Most of my assignments in the Elite Espionage Corps so far have been covert operations—assassinations and the like.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be required to talk much,” his commander promised him. “And it’s good that you’re a deadly assassin and a skilled warrior. If anyone can keep the Princess safe, it’s you, J-8.”

“Thank you for that assessment.” J-8 nodded his head, acknowledging the compliment. “But there are many, many warriors in the Elite Espionage Corps that can claim the same skills I have.”

“Yes, but none of them are Dark Kindred,” Commander Sylvan pointed out. “They all have emotions. You, I believe, are still dampening yours?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at J-8.

“Yes. Yes, of course I am,” J-8 said—perhaps a bit too quickly.

In fact, he had been planning to go see Yipper, the Tolleg surgeon, for a routine check-up of his emotion damper very soon—he just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Lately he had been having thoughts that were a bit out of the ordinary. They troubled him. Or rather, they were different from what he was used to, J-8 amended to himself. So a check-up was in order. But surely he could get that done before he had to go on this mission, so there was no point in bothering Commander Sylvan about it.

“I have no emotions,” he said, as much to reassure himself as Commander Sylvan. “Feelings are nothing but a distraction—a liability during a mission.”

“I wouldn’t agree that’s always true, but it certainly is with this mission,” Commander Sylvan said seriously. “You see, the Regalians are extremely strict about sexual purity before Joining. A young woman—especially in the upper echelons of their society, must be above reproach in every way. And I must therefore assign a guard who is above reproach as well—one who will protect her chastity without any desire to ‘deflower her’ or ‘slake her Heat’ as the Regalians say.”

J-8’s frown deepened.

“But Commander, no Kindred warrior would take a female against her will. Even I, a Dark Kindred with no belief in the Goddess or her ways, would not do such a thing. We are genetically incapable of harming a female in such a way.”

“Of course we are,” Commander Sylvan said gently. “You and I know that, J-8. But the Regalians have a more difficult time understanding and believing it. I think that by sending you to the Steward—who is the one who requested a Kindred guard for the Princess in the first place—they will see an emotionless robot who would never even think of laying a finger on her sexually. Not that I’m comparing you to a robot,” he added quickly.

“I am not offended by the comparison.” J-8 shrugged, his broad shoulder rolling beneath the metal of his exoskeleton. “Though it would, perhaps, be more accurate to say that I resemble what I have heard Earthlings call a ‘cyborg’—half organic and half-enhanced—due to my many modifications and enhancements.”