He watched as her eyelids grew heavily and fell half closed, and he could feel the calmed state of her mind through the connection. It wasn’t clear to him how the connection to his core was having this effect on her, but it appeared to sooth her anxiety and provide her with the relief she had been seeking. Her lips parted as her whole body relaxed and he was tempted to lean over and finish what he had started earlier that day. If simply touching her hand allowed this type of connection between them, he could only imagine how it might feel to kiss her.
She let out a soft exhale and her eyes closed. She was losing herself completely in the connection as the waves of soothing calm washed over her. The gravity of sleep called to her, and she had no strength to fight against it. She felt the movement behind her shoulders and knees, and then the sudden shift of her body upwards. Her mind was numb to her surroundings as her skin tingled at the warmth that enveloped her. There was a distant understanding that she was being carried, but the pulse of the connection kept her entranced.
“Zera, engage optimal environmental settings for crew member Orynn.”
The quiet sound of Ethan’s voice broke through the veil of her subconscious and she willed her eyes to open. “What?” She took in a deep breath. “Where?”
Ethan smiled down at her as he continued to cradle her delicate figure in his arms. The gravity started to shift and her body relaxed even further as his hands held her. “You fell asleep almost an hour ago in the kitchen. I didn’t want to wake you, but thought it best for you to get some rest in your natural gravity.”
“An hour?” Orynn stretched gently against his chest. It felt like only minutes had passed since he had first grasped her hand and allowed the connection to form between them. As the oxygen ratio of the room increased, she took in a deep breath and sank into his arms. “My apologies.”
Her words were barely a whisper as sleep reclaimed its hold over her and he knew he should let her go. His hands were reluctant to obey and the feeling of her body nestled into his arms filled his system with deep contentment. Forcing himself to relinquish his hold, he stepped away from her floating figure and turned to the door. “Get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Ethan.” She smiled at him and he smiled back before erecting a stasis field in the doorway and leaving the room. Her body protested at the absence of the connection and the warmth of his arms, while her mind screamed at her for her carelessness. Her heartbeat continued to pulse in the same rhythm she had felt from his core, and even as her mind continued to berate her, the rhythm was all she could hear. It lulled her to sleep with her last thoughts focusing on the feelings for him that she could no longer deny.
15 Chronos
Chronos was a backwater system of four small uninhabitable planets orbiting a slowly dying yellow giant star. What it lacked in planetary accommodations, it more than made up for in a collection of trading stations and large groupings of old ships that had been welded together to form mazes of habitable living spaces. The locals called them Junkers. Those just passing through called them death traps.
The system was frequented mostly by the Outer Rim races, also known as the Outlands races. They were a mix of those loyal to the Xen’dari Empire, those opposed to it and those who simply didn’t care one way or the other. The system lay outside of any political jurisdiction, having been declared a neutral zone during the Hedarion Rebellion. With its newly found freedom from law and governance, it found itself the center of black market trade, information dealings and those seeking asylum.
When the Zera docked at the largest of the trade stations, Chronos One, Hank listed her as the Black Bitch under advisement from Orynn. When asked with a raised eyebrow for an explanation, Orynn told them of how most of her missions passed through this station at one point or another and the Black Bitch was known well enough not to raise any questions. Apparently, Orynn had managed to get quite a rep for herself under that name.
As Hank waited for Orynn and Tara at the bottom of the lowered docking ramp with Ethan, Brom having drawn the short straw to stay on board and finish the limik pens, he hoped his ship was really black enough to warrant the name. When his eyes fell on Orynn as she walked down the loading ramp, he realized it wasn't the ship the name was referring to. She had on knee high boots of pure black nanofiber that hugged every curve of her ankle and calf. A matching mini skirt was partly covered by an ankle-length dark crimson silk skirt that had wide slits at the front of each leg. When it flowed around her legs, it looked like she was walking in a sea of blood.
The flexible armor mesh of the long sleeved black nanofiber shirt she was wearing had its stitching in the same blood red. At her hips was a lopsided belt that openly displayed a dozen fan knives. Hank wondered if she was actually able to use them, or if they were just for show. She was displaying to anyone looking that she was both armored and armed.
The back of the shirt had a high collar that rose halfway to the base of her skull at the back, hiding the presence of her neuro-stimulator node, but the front of it plunged down between the tops of her breasts. Her hair, now a jet black, had been pulled into a ponytail at the crown of her head by a black and red ribbon. Her eyes were the pitch black orbs associated with the Trexen and Hedarion races.
“Well that explains the name.” Hank couldn’t help but feel a slight attraction to the dangerous look Orynn was sporting. He glanced up at Ethan, whose eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets, and grinned. He nudged the Mecha in the stomach and leaned in with a whisper. “Bet you didn’t expect her to fit something like that in the small bag she brought on board.”
“When you travel constantly, you learn to pack well.” Orynn’s sultry voice matched her guise.
Hank laughed. “I really need to remember about your hearing skills.” His eyes looked up the ramp past Orynn. “Did Tara decide to stay behind?”
Orynn raised a black eyebrow and turned back to the ramp. “We had a slight disagreement about what she should wear. Here, if a woman dresses like a ship’s engineer, she is pinned a Passthrough who is an easy target and fair game. If you dress like an Outlander, even if you are not, they tend to believe either you are owned by someone or you can take care of yourself. Either way, they leave you alone.”
“Don’t tell me you actually managed to get her into a skirt?” Hank hadn’t seen Tara in a skirt in probably ten years.
“Fuck you, Hank!” Tara’s voice called out from the top of the loading ramp as she began marching down it. She wasn’t wearing a skirt, but her tight black bodysuit left little to the imagination. It followed every curve of her body, from her voluptuous backside to her well-endowed chest. Around her waist, she wore a belt with two holstered blasters that moved teasingly with her hips as she walked. Each thigh was belted by a sheathed dagger and her own brunette hair was pulled back into her normal ponytail. The darkness was broken only by the light brown of her father’s well-worn flight jacket that she never seemed to take off.
Hank had to admit that the jacket only added to the honesty of the look. Tara looked like she dressed this way every day, and as his eyes glanced over her chest, the part of him stirred that wished she did. It was easy to forget that she was a woman while she was dressed in her baggy grease-stained clothes. He felt a nudge from Ethan and looked up to see the Mecha giving him a ‘now who’s staring’ look. He cleared his throat and turned to Orynn.
“So Or... Volarra,” Hank corrected himself. Volarra was the name she was known by most in this system. “You said you had a connection at a bar to get us the ale we need?”
Orynn nodded. “But first, we will need to trade the medical supplies for Chronium so we can buy it.”
“Okay.” Hank scratched the back of his neck, still a bit confused about that part. He wasn’t sure how they would get enough Chronium, the widely used currency in the Rim, from the few crates of medical supplies they had from Central.
“I apologize in advance for this, Hank.” Orynn slammed her
hands against the unsuspecting man and he stumbled backwards onto his ass. Her voice raised so that it echoed through the large hangar.
“Truix-bacht! What I am supposed to do with twenty-four cases of medical supplies?”
Hank looked up at her in surprise as Ethan and Tara both took a step back. “Whoa, what...”
“Silence your excuses!” Orynn didn’t give him time to argue. She snarled and pointed an angry finger to his face as people in the hangar stopped what they were doing in the hopes of catching a good fight. “I asked you to do one simple errand, and you return to me with bandages and Novasil? I am going to jettison your sorry ass into space as soon we leave port!”
Ethan caught how she elevated her voice with the word Novasil, and he understood her plan immediately. Novasil was an element used by black market labs to cook up a cheap synthetic drug called Sweet Sil. Sure enough, as Orynn turned her back on Hank while wearing a perfectly practiced scowl of anger, Ethan caught a short man in ripped pants and a faded black floor length duster approaching the “Black Bitch” timidly.
“S’cuse me missy...” The older man had a nose ring, a hairstyle from three decades previous and a green bandana around his neck. He was most likely a member of one of the T’jaros factions. As Orynn turned her black-eyed scowl to him, his eyes darted about as he brought his hands up to show they were empty. With eyes like that, people automatically assumed she was either a free-living Trexen with the balls to live out in the open, or she was a mix-blooded Hedarion. Most people cautiously assumed the former and hoped for the later.
“Many pardons, but I couldn’t help but overhear about the problem you are having with your... cargo.”
“What of it?” Orynn sneered her blood red lips.
“Well...” The man rubbed his hands. “You see, my friends and I, well we run peace missions to starving children around the rim, and well, we could really use those medical supplies.”
Starving children. That was a new one.
Orynn laughed bitterly and turned away. “Do I look like a fucking charity to you?”
“Oh no, miss, not at all.” The man thought about his words and swallowed hard. “What I mean to say is that we’d be willing to pay for them, if it’s a fair price.”
“Eighty Chronae.” Orynn kept her back to the man as he sputtered. It was more than double what they actually needed to get everything on their list.
“Those supplies are hardly worth a quarter of that!” The man’s anger took over his pleasant facade for a moment, but he caught himself and tried another tactic. “Twenty-five Chronae. Please, think of the children...”
“I hate children. Sixty-five Chronae.”
“Forty, and not one Chronae more!”
Orynn turned to the man with a deadly glare. “Fifty Chronae, and I won’t rip that ring from your nose and add it to my trophy collection.”
The man ground his teeth, but he was too old to see if she really could use those knives around her waist or melt his brain out of his ears. “Fine! Deal! You really are a Black hearted Bitch, you know that?”
Orynn let an even deadlier smile slide onto her lips. “Be sure and tell your friends.”
She turned to Ethan and Tara and winked, then turned to Hank who was still sitting on the ground. She kicked at him lightly, careful not to actually hit him. “What in the Empire’s fat fucking ass are you still doing down there? Go get this nice man his medical supplies! You do not want to keep those poor starving children waiting, do you?”
Hank caught onto the ruse, mentally making a note to find a way to repay her later, and shuffled up to his feet as quickly as possible and hurried up the docking ramp. The trade went smoothly after that. They had the Chronium they needed to buy their supplies and the station was now well aware that the Black Bitch was back in port. Brom got a good laugh from the story at least as he helped Hank unload the cargo.
“I am sorry about that, Hank.” Orynn touched his arm as they prepared to leave for their next contact. “The fall and the shock on your face had to look real, or that T’jaros would have thought we were up to something. I could not very well push over Ethan.”
“You could’ve pushed over Tara.” Hank chuckled. His ass was still sore.
Orynn smirked. “I fear her wrath more than yours.”
Hank nodded and glanced at Tara who shot him a warning glare. “Me too.”
Hank and Tara fell a step behind as Orynn and Ethan led the group through the station. The crowds making trades in the main causeway gave Orynn sideways glances, but none stared too long when they realized who she was or noticed the size of her Mecha bodyguard. Orynn had dressed him for the outing as well, asking him to switch his white long sleeved undershirt for a black one. He got to keep his black nanofiber jacket, but he now had a red and black ribbon tied around his right bicep. It was a mark of ownership. He belonged to the Black Bitch, and that didn’t really bother him.
He glanced to her as she walked beside him, her right arm looped through his left elbow. He spotted the carved shell clip she always wore pinned to the top of her ponytail. He was glad he could still see her silver white curls spilling from the black and red ribbon instead of the black hair of her guise. He thought it made her blood red and black outfit look even more dangerous. Her black eye-shadowed mercury eyes glanced up at him and she gave him a sly smile in keeping with the guise. It was the first time he had seen her wear makeup, and while he preferred her natural appearance, he was having trouble ignoring the growing urge to kiss her crimson lipstick off.
Orynn pointed out the silk and drakka meat vendors as they passed them by. After they secured the ale, they would come back and negotiate with the vendors. She was hoping to get a good deal on the ale, as it was coming from someone she had been building a trade relationship for a long time. They would need at least fourteen Chronae for the limiks, and as much as twenty if her contact on Gokem was in a bad mood. After walking through the main trading causeway, she led them down a side passage, passing several more shops hidden in every space available. As they neared what appeared to be the end of the passage, the thumping baseline of dubtronic music could be heard.
The sign above the door was in Ruisk and read “Club Dead Star”. Below that, in smaller scribbled text, it read in Common ‘If you can’t read the above, stay the fuck out’.
Without hesitation, Orynn pushed open the heavy metal door, flooding the hallway with music, and led the group inside. A few of the patrons sitting in the booths near the door looked up. One or two gave Orynn curt nods, others eyed her intently or averted their gaze. Despite the Ruisk writing, there was every race imaginable gathered at the booths, tables and the bar that ran the length of one wall. The dance floor opposite the bar was packed with hungry looking men grouped around scantily clad women.
Orynn lead the group to the bar as she gauged the auras of her companions. So far, they weren’t giving any signs of feeling uneasy about being in such a place. Hank was his usual amiable self and Tara seemed to have stopped worrying so much about what she was wearing or the looks she was getting from every male in the room. Orynn was glad that they were at ease. Jehdra had warned her how ‘new’ they were, but it seemed to her that they fit in quite well on these types of missions.
As they approached an open spot at the bar, the two sitting on either side quickly took their drinks and vanished into the crowd. Orynn leaned over the bar, placed her elbows on its slick metallic surface and rested her chin on her hands. She was staring intently at the back of the bar tender, a black haired Mecha with light grey skin. When he turned around, a rag and glass in hand, Orynn smiled her crimson lips at him.
“Hello, Torque.”
The Mecha stepped back and nearly dropped the glass he was cleaning. “Fuck, Volarra! You trying to give me a heart attack?”
Orynn raised an eyebrow and looked the Mecha over. “Hmmm? I hope you did not go and get one installed while I was gone.”
“Not on my salary, hon.” Torque set the glass down and pl
aced both hands on the bar. He leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice as his grey eyes filled with concern. “Where in the Outlands have you been? It’s been almost four months. I was starting to worry.”
“How sweet of you.” Orynn smiled, then tilted her head to the group behind her. “I was getting a new crew together.”
“Another new crew? What in blazes happened this time?”
Orynn shrugged and pouted her lips. “I really do not think they liked me.” She pointed up to Ethan. “So I got an upgrade.”
Torque finally looked up and took notice of the three behind her. Two Corwints and one very large, very blue Mecha. The two Corwints seemed to be enjoying themselves, but the Mecha’s eyes looked like he wanted to take Torque outback and do a systems overhaul on him the painful way. His eyes fell on the black and red ribbon around Ethan’s arm and he leaned away from Orynn. He let out a slow whistle as he gave the Mecha an appraisal. “He’s certainly that.”
Orynn smirked. “You can put your eyes back in their sockets, Torque. Ethan does not swing your way.”
Torque leaned one arm on the bar and gave Orynn a sighing smile. “The good looking ones never do, hon.”
Ethan’s system stuttered. Torque’s closeness to Orynn had been causing the twinges of jealousy to rear their ugly head. It never occurred to him that Torque may not be interested in women. He felt Orynn loop her hand back through his elbow and she raised both eyebrows at Torque before speaking.
“Besides, Ethan belongs to me.”
Ethan wondered if she had any idea how much he was starting to wish that were true.
Orynn pointed behind her. “This is Hankarron Eros and Tara Flint. They are good kids, but new to the game. If you ever see them in here without me, you will take care of them. Understood?”
Ghost in the Machine (Corwint Central Agent Files) Page 15
