by Josh Busch
***
Vena didn’t notice Dickson’s approach until he was directly behind her. She hadn’t actually seen him yet as far as he could tell, but she must have known he was there somehow by the way she stiffened. Her skin, the soft sea blue that gave away all Arterian humans, was suddenly rigid with anxiety. He didn’t have to guess why.
“So, Captain,” she began, her voice somehow both tender and nervous at the same time, “it’s been…what, four years?”
“I’m not your captain,” Dickson said coolly. He could feel his blood boiling, though he made an effort to control it. It didn’t really help. “You’re not my crew anymore, Vena.”
“That’s right, Andrew.” She turned, and the fire in his veins cooled slightly. It had been so long since he’d seen her face up close that he’d forgotten how it had captivated him. Her smile – he didn’t know whether it was real or forced – was like its own power source, the way it lit up the room. Her eyes seemed to sear straight through his body.
“I’ve missed you, you know,” she continued. Her voice slipped down an octave, becoming alluring. Her regulation boots tapped against the metal floors as she took small, swaying steps towards him. “Sometimes, during the night, I remember the good times we had…the ones with the crew, too, not just the ones with you and me…by ourselves.”
“Mmm,” he mumbled in dumb agreement. The closeness to her body was driving his anger away. Focus, he swore at himself mentally. "I missed you too. Guess what else I missed?"
Vena knew exactly, of course - she made a face, disgusted. "I'll bet," she replied icily, the husky tone in her voice all but gone. "I'm sure you’ve completely forgotten what our deal was back when I joined your crew. The Balec artifact was the only thing I ever wanted out of any of you, and I made that clear from the very first day. You had no right-"
"And I told you,” Dickson interrupted, “that anything we took from the Desni colony ships was to be sold for crew profit. When you took off, you stole five million dollars from us."
“It’s not my fault the artifact was on that ship.” Vena took a step forward, letting her hostile mask slip a little. Not much – she was still seething – but enough to let him know she was willing to compromise. "Let's not argue - that's all in the past. We're finally together again, and we can start over."
"All I want…is the artifact," Dickson replied, though he didn’t shy away from the arm she casually draped around his neck. Her scent was intoxicating - she smelled of lilacs. He really had missed her – far more than he was willing to let on to anyone else. "After that, we're even. We don’t need you anymore."
Vena smirked at him then, which made his heart skip a beat. Get a hold of yourself! Dickson thought uselessly.
“That’s a shame,” she stage-whispered as she put her hands on her hips. She obviously didn’t believe a word he said. "Come on, Andrew, cut out the tough guy routine. Do you really think I can't see what I do to you? Let's take this somewhere more private and…work this out."
Vena flashed her most provocative smile at him, and for a second he almost fell into her arms. It had been years since he had spent any time alone with a woman. The closest thing he had was Gaileen, and she was far too much like a sister for any sparks to blossom between them. There was no doubt that he was lonely; and there she was, throwing herself on top of him like a horny puppy. It would be so easy to just say yes...
The movement out of the corner of his eyes brought him back to reality.
"In case you're wondering why nobody’s responded to whatever button it is you're mashing in your other hand," Dickson remarked calmly, "it's because Gaileen is over there in the corner, hotwiring the communications console to block all commands going in and out of this room."
Vena's head whipped in the direction he had indicated, where his crewmate was cheerfully holding the small grey disk - Shila's disk - up against the bar's communication console. She was still sipping the pink cocktail with her other hand.
"Hi, sis!" Gaileen excitedly waved towards the bar. "Please stop trying to shut off the lights, okay? It’s not nice to leave us in the dark."
"Nice to see you too, Gaileen. You really ought to cut down on those, hon,” Vena pointed out, referring to the cocktails. "They've been known to kill bigger people than you."
"Everything in moderation, honey. Don’t you worry ‘bout me."
Dickson had had just about enough girl talk. He dropped his hand forcefully onto Vena's shoulder and pressed her against the back bar.
"Where is the artifact?" he asked angrily. They were only inches apart now, and Dickson could see flickers of something in her eyes...what? Anger? Amusement? He couldn't tell; it'd been far too long since the last time he'd had to gauge her mood.
Vena’s mouth was suddenly pressed against his. The soft, supple lips that he'd been subconsciously missing over the last four years were, for just a moment, all that mattered. He seemed to melt into her, as if they were becoming one person instead of two.
The kiss seemed to go on forever; Dickson had stopped counting after a minute. Once they finally separated, he weakly cleared his throat. "Alright, I admit it. You're good."
"I know."
"But you are aware that I'm not going to leave you alone until you give the artifact back to us."
Vena sighed. "I know that too."
"So we're at an impasse."
"Not really."
"No?" Dickson asked, curiously.
Vena smiled warmly and gave him another peck on the cheek before she went on. "Maybe someday, when you let it go, we can be together again. I really do miss you; I've thought of you every day since I left. But the artifact - it's too important to me just to give it up to the black market. We made millions of dollars over the years, Andrew...couldn’t that be enough? Can’t I just have this one thing? Do you have any idea how special it is to me?"
The compulsion to give in to her swelled through him again. It wasn't like he needed the money - he literally had millions he could burn through before he even needed to think of rationing it out. As for his crew, they’d never really seemed to care too much about getting it back – and if he asked them to, they would give it up in a heartbeat. Why, then, was it so important to him?
Gallagher’s glare from across the room caught his eye, and then he knew. It really was his crew, he suddenly realized. It wasn't fair for anyone to take all of the treasure of any raid, no matter how small it seemed. How could he explain to the others that Vena was allowed to take almost five million dollars worth of goods just for herself, while the rest of them - who did just as much to earn it - got nothing?
No matter what his feelings were for the beautiful woman in his arms, fair was fair. Though his crew would never demand anything from him, they deserved their earnings.
"You already have your mind made up," Vena announced sadly. She was better at reading facial expressions than he was.
"I'm afraid you're right."
She narrowed her eyes in defiance. "Then I guess I'll just have to keep missing you."
A bright, white flash surrounded them then, blinding Dickson and everyone else in the room. Flasher, Dickson thought angrily to himself. He should have been expecting that - he'd most likely been the one to teach her that trick. Of course Vena was gone by the time his vision returned; he would have been shocked if she'd stuck around. The only question worth asking right now was: which way did she go?
"Captain!" Gallagher shouted, running up to join him at the now empty bar. "Are you alright?"
He ignored the question. "Did you see which way she went?" he demanded.
"We were just as blind as you, sir."
Dickson was about to be angry, but he had a sudden idea. "Maybe not all of us." He ran to the wall where Gaileen was still recovering from the Flasher – the cocktails must have enhanced the effect of it. Reaching down to the ground, he retrieved the small disk where she’d had dropped it.
"She went out the main entrance," Shila replied. Unlike the rest of them, her ‘vision’ had been unaffected by the attack. "From what I can tell, the Flasher was in her left boot. Sound familiar?"
Vena HAD learned that trick from him; the escape was a page directly out of his own playbook. He was torn between being angry or flattered. "Where's she heading?"
"I have no idea," Shila answered curtly. "I don't have access to station security sensors. I’m not omnipotent – I’m just an overstuffed application program."
"You’ve got access now," Dickson said, feeling dread in the pit of his stomach. He had hoped he would never have to use his trump card. "Use security code FWW-5505-10018-2. That should give you the clearance you need."
Shila looked confused. "What kind of stunt are you-" she stopped, and her simulated eyes went blank. "Wait, I do have access! How in the hell did you get that kind of clearance?"
Dickson was quickly losing patience. "I bought it with a king's ransom from a one-eyed man in the desert - I will tell you later, Shila, just find her now!"
She flinched, but did the search without complaint. Dickson had the feeling she was too excited about the new access to be offended by his lack of manners. "She's running through deck B-Alpha...from the pattern she's taking, it looks like she's going to the flight deck."
Of course. Dickson slapped the communicator button on his collar. "All hands – out on the double! Get to the docks by any means necessary – move it!"
His crew needed no further explanation. Gallagher was out the door before he even finished hearing the message, and Gaileen came back around and started jogging after him, albeit a little unsteadily. For what it was worth, considering their early retirement, he really did have a great crew. He hoped it would be enough.
