VOX PROTOCOL: Chapter Four

Shield of Beauty

Jun 27, 2026

[Author’s Note: This chapter gets a bit “warm,” as the readers of Pamela might have said, reaching to about two chili peppers. No open-door intimacy in this chapter, though. You might notice it’s posted Saturday and not Friday. While we’re in early chapters especially, I’m experimenting with days a bit, and I have noticed many readers waiting until the weekend to make time for a new chapter, so I’m trying Saturday morning to see if that’s more convenient for folks. Please enjoy, and I’m looking forward to Chapter 5!]

Vox Protocol Table of Contents

Shield of Beauty

“The Vox is taken with you, Andromeda.”

Leave it to Cetian and half-Cetian ambassadors: they never left anything for the veil of mystery.

Andri strode into the Phocion’s lounge for debrief, still holding the communication card; there, she found only Ambassadors Masadi and del’Kor’en, and not the rest of the mission. Lance stood at the door professional and upright, on duty as security, waving her ahead. All she wanted was to take his hand, feel some reassurance… maybe fall on the floor, face first, and apologize.

She shook her head instead, shoulders straight, and walked past him. If she knew one thing about Lance (and she knew several), she knew that he respected rigid professionalism. He’d rather confine those things which belonged strictly between them to the bedroom.

I did my job. He’s always liked that I do my job, no matter what. Just the way he does his job.

Masadi directed her to a chair. Del’Kor’en watched her with a steady, cool interest, and Andri didn’t know the Cetian woman well enough to guess what her coolness and interest meant.

“That’s the Vox’s personal communication card?” Masadi asked, eyes on the communication chit. He extended a hand expectantly, and Andri, with reluctance, surrendered the card—hardly bigger than her thumb, flat and rectangular and covered in circuit lines, all white, sky blue, and gold. He frowned and handed it up to Ambassador del’Kor’en, who closed her eyes immediately. Psychometry.

“A line made specially for the Vox, with many forked paths,” Kor’en muttered, then handed it back. “Intimate conversation channels, for professional purpose. He intends to use Andromeda, as surely as he believes we intend to manipulate him.”

Masadi grunted, handing the card back to Andri. “Better give the man what he wants, then. You alright? From what I could tell, you seemed to be enjoying your conversation with the Vox. Don’t find him detestable, at least? He’s no Drembehat Kimbel, I suppose.”

Andri huffed once, looking away. The scheming Kimbelite celebrity had indeed struck her as detestable whenever they’d dealt with him, but at least he’d liked seeing her and Lance together. The Vox may not have struck her as disgusting (far from it), but his presence kept her from Lance, and that in itself had an aura of detestability.

Andri kept that on the downlow and stuck to counting the Vox’s good points. “He’s pleasant and attractive, and he doesn’t make piggish come-ons at me or talk about my partner’s anatomy. He doesn’t act like touching an Abni is a dare. Granted… the Vox doesn’t know I have a partner.” She glared at Masadi. “That lie back there… it’s dangerous, sir. He’s a born politician. I think he was raised in this, probably from nursery school. I know a diplomat who can smell bullshit, and he’s one of them.”

Masadi nodded. “Absolutely. So are you, my dear. And you played the whole thing off beautifully.” He flashed a proud grin, revealing one thick, broad canine. Like many half-Cetians, he had only one of them, with the other side of his jaw sporting an extra incisor. “Their Vox isn’t the only born politician in the room. You know what you’re doing.”

Andri huffed impatiently. “Sir, I was only playing along—trying not to make you look like a dirty rotten liar in front of—”

“He happily swallowed the line that I dismissed your last partner from my service to keep you apart. You have his sympathies. You know how to work within the bands of plausible truth. A coup, my dear.” Masadi clapped; whether or not he meant it sarcastically, Andri couldn’t tell. “We couldn’t have played a stronger hand if we’d planned it this way. And he thinks he’s seducing you—that he’s using you. Always let a man think he has all the power, especially an Abni. They’ve been dominated and steamrolled by the damn Skelow for centuries; he wants to feel powerful. He’ll gladly miss clues, even obvious ones… because he wants to believe what we’ve said.”

Andri rolled her eyes, annoyed with Masadi’s scheming. “Moments like these, sir, I completely get why you and Drembehat make natural friends. You should open one of those aunties’ and uncles’ matchmaking services together… maybe leave the rest of us in peace.”

All she accomplished was giving Masadi a huge laugh, but Kor’en spoke, tone reasonable. “Don’t you think she’s right that it’s dangerous, Ja’el? Making the Vox dislike you right at the beginning of negotiations? Not to mention Andromeda spoke to him at length about humanity’s relationship with Tau Ceti, and not in the most flattering light.”

Andri blinked. Wow. Used Masadi’s first name. He hates that.

Now came Masadi’s turn to huff. “The relationship doesn’t always bear a flattering light, now does it?” He eyed Andri closer. “So long as one of us is in good with him for now, that’s all we need. We have an opportunity here to forge a real relationship with Zehyr. I find the seeds of such diplomatic relationships are based on real foundations, on personal bonds, closeness and trust—like my relationship with Drembehat, despite the little games we play with each other.” He leaned towards her, eyes especially milky and strange, his Cetian inheritance weirdly prominent today. “Andri, did you feel it?

Andri started, feeling a tiny, strange, electric zap in her brain, like a psychic finger flicking the gray matter. Maybe Masadi poking at her, searching for answers indelicately.

Kor’en sighed and looked away. “Ja’el, so like a toddler in a pottery workshop….”

Andri shook her head. “Feel what?”

Masadi leaned over his knees, arms folded in a very human manner. If it weren’t for the copper color of his skin and those cloudy, moonstone eyes, Andri could easily think him entirely human most of the time… but he had a dreamy cast to his expression now.

“That connection between you. That seed of closeness, very small. I could see it drawing taut… but could you feel it when you spoke to him?”

Andri dodged her eyes to Lance, expecting a frosty distance, daring her to speak. When they’d first been courting—pretending an engagement in front of Drembehat at Masadi’s urging, and before they even admitted they had feelings for each other—Lance had taken exception to Andri showing another man preference. Sharp, downright belligerent exception.

Instead, Lance met her eyes and flickered a quick smile. Encouraging, reassuring.

Wow… what a long way we’ve come. The expression enabled her to speak, heart skipping.

“In different circumstances, I could see the Vox and me being friends,” she admitted. “I appreciate the way he explains things, and his interest in our culture and history… everything he has to say is fascinating. I’m not sure I’m comfortable pushing much beyond that, sir.”

Masadi nodded as though accepting her words, though she didn’t believe his acceptance any deeper than the perfunctory, then met Andri’s eyes without flinching. Solid, cold scheming, down to his bone marrow. Del’Kor’en sighed, as though it exhausted her as well.

“I hear that, Andromeda. But… I’m telling you to find a way.” Before she even responded, he shifted his focus to Lance, as if to prove a point. “How are you doing with this little ruse of ours, Lance? Feeling good? No apprehensions or jealousy? Your brain’s humming along nicely over there.”

Andri expected Lance to say that he felt uncomfortable, that he found the ruse and surrendering his partner for political maneuvers humiliating, especially the idea of watching her show preference to another man right in front of him, even if she did it for the mission.

Instead, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course.”

~*~

“Of course?!” Andri whirled on him the moment Lance closed the door to their tight quarters; she had to be careful not to accidentally smack him with an arm when she turned. At least getting in his face proved easy, what with the pocket-sized environs and Lance’s size. “What do you mean, of course?”

“I mean what I say.” He examined her, carefully taking her hands in his. “You’re uncomfortable with the ruse, and I don’t want that… not on my account. Masadi was correct that you otherwise found the Vox pleasant and friendly, so it can only be on my account that you’re uncomfortable. I want to assure you that I’m fine.”

Andri exhaled an enormous sound of frustration, not caring who else heard them through the bulkhead walls of the Phocion’s crew compartments. She turned away to pace, though of course she could only make it two and a half steps beside the bed before she had to turn back again.

“Are you kidding me? After what happened at Kor’lana Seta? You remember what you said to me then? That you’d never be with a woman who showed you so little regard or preference? That you found it humiliating, even when we weren’t actually together? What happened to that?!”

Lance frowned. “The situations are nothing alike, Andromeda. And in any case… you’ll recall I felt the need to apologize to you for what I said? That implies that I believed myself in the wrong, yes?”

Andri squinted and cocked her head with her arms crossed, trying to make him out. “That doesn’t mean you’re a different person all of a sudden, from a different culture. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel terrible for making you feel that way, even accidentally.” She studied the ceiling. “And how are the situations nothing alike? If anything, this one’s worse!”

Lance took two long breaths as if preparing himself, his palm resting meditatively on his ceremonial dagger’s round little pommel.

“At Kor’lana Seta, the ruse we played was an engagement, where we were believed by Drembehat Kimbel to be affianced. In that context, you showing him preference over me was humiliating. He perceived us as affianced, and he was knowledgeable about Abni culture. He had great status on Kalur, in Belvar, the center of life in the STF. He set out to humiliate me, and saw me as a man humiliated, in truth. Here… there’s no one in the Vox’s circle who believe you’re to be joined with me. So… when and if you show him preference, there’s no social insult to me whatsoever. No humiliation. Embarrassment exists between social entities within their context, does it not?”

Andri’s mouth dropped. “But you know we’re together. Isn’t that enough to feel insulted when you see me with another man? Jealous? Worried? Nothing at all?”

Lance blinked patiently at her; she knew asking him to act openly jealous was asking him to be unmanly, in his sense of masculinity… but just because he wasn’t supposed to show it didn’t mean he never felt it.

“As I’ve said several times since, I reacted in anger because I wanted you… because I hated the ruse. I wanted it to be real.” He reached out a hand, and when Andri neared, he brushed the backs of his strong fingers over her cheek.

“And now it is real? Is that what’s different?”

Lance smiled, eyes hooded as he gazed into hers. “Well, that… yes. Partially, at least. I was uncertain of you because it was a ruse. This time… the ruse is that we’re not together, when we certainly are. We return to the same bed each night, and you rest in my arms. I have no reason to feel threatened, and it’s unmanly for an Abni-S’zaelyn to believe such things without good reason. Do you want to break off from me and join with the Vox of Zehyr?”

Andri snorted, making Lance grin, wide and white, with sharp canines. So handsome he made her heart trip over itself, lose its rhythm entirely, and leap into her throat.

“He is attractive, I suppose,” she admitted, seeing Lance’s smile widen. His voice emerged a purr.

“That he is. I freely acknowledge the fact myself. I would enjoy fighting in a unit with him—but he’s a political man.”

Andri grinned at the admission, so easy from an Abni—and so difficult for straight military human men in her experience, even with Earth’s increasingly and sexually permissive culture. Some cultural facets of masculinity were baked in deep.

“It doesn’t bother you at all? The idea of Masadi trying to get me to cozy up with the Vox, pretend to start a relationship with him? Similar to what he asked me to do with you at Kor’lana?”

Lance’s smile flickered once at the comparison, and he sat down at the foot of the bed. With one hand, he patted the blanket for her to join him.

“Well. Masadi sensed our attraction to one another. He told me at Kor’lana once that he worried we might be more distracted if we didn’t get together, with all the attempts to avoid touching, being alone in elevators, all that. So he gave us a push. With the Vox….” He considered, holding Andri’s left hand in both of his own. His thumb brushed her empty ring finger thoughtfully. “Masadi is angling at advantage, for the success of the mission. The Vox likes you… ‘plain and simple’, as humans say. I’ve seen Masadi privilege the attaché or page who strikes a chord with an ally or a target diplomat, many times. With Drembehat, it was you—and with the Vox, it’s you. In this case, it’s because you’ve been with an Abni. You intrigue him. I’m flattered to have given you such leverage with the Vox of Zehyr. It’s an honor for him to take notice of you… and an important opportunity.” He swallowed. “For all of us, Andromeda.”

Very slowly persuading her body to relax, Andri finally leaned her ear against his solid slab of shoulder. She could smell the pleasant, heated musk of him, under the dusty and verdant smell of his bark-leather armoring; it always left a lingering scent of resin on his skin when she stripped him beyond his underlayers.

“I think you understand this,” she said slowly, “but with a human man, this would be completely unacceptable. Men in the Star Navy especially—they’d be yelling at Masadi for trying another one of his love games. They’d be accusing Masadi of pushing me into it. They wouldn’t be alright with any part of this, even though it’s for my job and part of the mission. It’s hard for me to get my head around the idea of you being alright with the ruse. When you said ‘of course’… I thought you had to be lying. That you didn’t feel like you could push back under your contract, or you worried about my position as attaché.”

Lance adjusted, wrapping her up with his arm and drawing her closer.

“I’m not a human man. I understand your confusion—there have been moments where, even when my rational self knows you’re a human woman, my shadow self doesn’t. It sees you out of the corner of one eye, and it sees an Abni-S’zaelyn shield-woman, fierce and brave and tall, with a crown of intricate warrior knots atop your head.”

Andri blinked rapidly, turning to examine his face. “Is that… closer to what you want?”

He chuffed. “A romantic ideal—not a person who exists. Like your… what’s it called? The warriors in plate armor from historom vids?”

Andri grinned. “God… you and your historoms. I’ve never known a man who could stomach so many of them, and you eat them up.” She adjusted, nuzzling her cheek against his chest. “I think you mean like a knight in shining armor.”

Lance chuckled. “Yes—like the knight Lancelot. Or the prince from that Sleeping Lovely folktale. A good historom you found me… so much action and dragon slaying.” His hand trailed up her arm, fondling her hair as Andri snorted with laughter. “In the tales from my province, there are stories of ancient shield-women, turned to guardian spirits on their ride into death. It’s why I call you Shield of Beauty—the keth’leyr-dae.” He spoke deliberately, tripping Andri’s translator. Beauteous Shield Spirit. Andri’s smile widened, and she felt a wave of overwhelm hit her, almost sorrow.

“I don’t mean to accuse you of being jealous. I know it makes you feel like I’m calling you unmanly.”

“Knowing something in one’s head is not the same as knowing it in the flesh.” He played at the soft hair just at the nape of her neck. “I love these locks, the ones which escape your braids and buns so easily. Wild curls, floating and cloudlike, as a child’s hair might be. Very human… very soft. Our women would never allow such escape—to risk childlike comparisons.”

Andri examined him, the hunting cat appearance of his high cheekbones, the hard set of his jaw, the steely, canted blue of his eyes. His guild tattoos swirled with agitation, and she knew his desire when she saw it.

“Is that because Abni men would find it unattractive?” she asked in a provocative whisper.

“Children and adolescents are gawky, unformed lumps, their future uniqueness hidden under baby fat and enormous eyes.” Lance spoke with a smile the whole time. “But the Shields of Beauty are depicted as young and wild, long before the Skelow brought their guild tattoos—bare-faced and pure. You remind me of a shrine’s holy mural near my home, where our guardian keth’leyr-dae holds court and accepts offerings from field and forest. You’re so like her. Like something from the distant past, a memory of beauty. She was the first women I found lovely, even as a painting.”

That made Andri blush, far deeper than she had with the Vox. Lance could do that, and she appreciated it. Even hardened scoundrels and political operators could struggle to make her flush, but Lance? His earnestness and the poetry of his words… and his sweetness… they could own her, bowl her over, in an instant.

“Does that make you perverse among Abni?” she asked coyly.

“K’ha. I share a bed with a pretty yumei, don’t I? What could I be, other than terribly perverse?” With a gentle hand, Lance pressed her down onto the mattress, eyes unblinking and catlike, gorgeous steel blue. “I would like to have you, my Shield of Beauty, if you’ll have me. Show me your preference. I know your fluttering yumei heart wants me to be passionate and jealous, and I am happy to show you passion.”

Andri reached up, cupping his cheek with one hand. “Tell me you’re okay with all this… just one more time.”

Lance pulled off his belt, holding the pommel of his mir-s’zaek to his forehead for a moment, eyes closed, before reverently setting it beside the bed. He spoke very seriously, no longer teasing.

“I confess I’ll feel much better once you’ve made me bloom within you, Andromeda. It’s been a trying day—not least for seeing the damage to my homeworld. I’d like to visit Lirdah Province with you when we have some leave, to see how it fares. See my family… and introduce you to them.”

Andri’s heart leapt and fell and leapt again, straight into her throat; she hadn’t even checked in on how he was doing seeing Zehyr like this, how his family were or if he’d contacted them since they entered orbit… but he’d been so closed off and stoic since they’d exited hyperspace. She didn’t know a way in, past the new walls he’d begun to erect. She hoped he might speak when he felt ready.

“I’d love to go, if Masadi approves it. Might be delicate… especially with the Vox involved.”

Lance leaned down over her, swallowing her words with a brush of lips across Andri’s, soft as a feather. He smelled of bark leather, an incense-like musk, and she felt his desire prominent between their bodies.

“Do you still prefer me, Shield of Beauty?”

“Yes—of course I do.”

He met her eyes. “Then show me. No more words tonight.”

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