Beth and the Barbarian

by Honey Phillips

  He groaned. There was no way he would be able to walk away from her. He had to put a stop to this right now. But then her soft arms slid around his neck.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered. “And then train me some more.”

  The temptation was too much. He took her mouth hungrily, demanding her response, and she arched against him. Her mouth was hot and sweet and he slowed the pace, exploring each crevice and drawing her response out until she was uttering soft moans in the back of her throat. When he finally lifted his head, her mouth was damp and swollen. His hand moved to the small swell of her breast and the taut peak surged into his hand. Her shirt had ridden up and he could feel the damp silk of her panties and the soft skin of her ass writhing across his lap, the frantic motions tormenting his aching cock. Impatient to feel more of her bare, silky skin, he reached for her shirt.

  The alarm sounded. Damn. They both froze, and this time the sound immediately grew louder. Fuck.

  He stood up, Beth still in his arms, and carried her to the second command chair. Quickly he fastened her in, hoping that the restraints—designed for much larger Sardoran bodies—would be enough to keep her secure. He dropped into his chair and strapped down. The alarm was still blaring and he shut it off, concentrating on the scanner results instead. The other ship was coming fast. Beth wasn’t talking but he could see how pale she was.

  “It’s a Serigali ship,” he confirmed, as soon as he could detect the signal.

  “Can we outrun them?”

  From the time he was born, it had been drilled into him that honor demanded that warriors did not run from battle. He knew only too well how strongly that concept was ingrained in Sardoran society—and the penalty for disregarding it—but he would have fled from the scene without the slightest hesitation if it meant he could remove her from danger.

  “No. We’re faster in short bursts but I can’t beat their speed over any distance.” He didn’t have any choice; he took the ship off auto-pilot. “Don’t worry. We’re more maneuverable and I have some tricks up my sleeve.

  “I’m not worried.” Her voice was quiet but firm and he shot a quick look in her direction. He could see the trust in her eyes. She managed a shaky smile and it strengthened his determination. Damned if he was going to let anything happen to his little female.

  The Serigali ship was getting closer and he began a series of zigzags, sending the smaller ship in a sequence of arcs in front of their pursuer. The larger ship was in firing range now and started discharging their laser cannons. Dragar’s face tightened and battle rage began to throb through his veins as he realized they were trying to completely destroy his ship. He had assumed that they intended to disable the ship and take them prisoner, but instead they seemed focused on wiping any evidence of their existence from the galaxy.

  A heavy vibration rocked the ship. They had proximity bombs in their arsenal. The bombs were rare and expensive. How the hell could they afford them? It didn’t matter. They might have all the toys but he was a better warrior—and a better pilot. This was an exploration ship, not a fighter, so his weaponry was limited. He would have to make every shot count.

  A fierce grin spread across his face. They would soon learn that they had underestimated him. Another blast slammed the ship, this one close enough to cause the ship to cant to the left. Hastily, he straightened out and resumed the evasive pattern. The Serigali ship was close enough now that it had to continually adjust its course in order to keep them in the line of fire. With each wide arc, he forced them to turn a little more sharply while he cut a little closer to their exhaust vents. Another swing… A little more… There. He locked onto the target and fired. The laser pulse was a direct hit. A cloud of vapor jetted from the small opening, and there was a brief pause. Then a roar of triumph filled the small cabin as series of flares exploded inside the larger ship.

  He roared again. Beth was looking at him uncertainly.

  “We got them, little one.”

  Her gorgeous smile lit up her face. Quickly, he released both sets of restraints so he could gather her in his arms and kiss her. He demanded her tribute as a successful warrior and she gave it eagerly, her mouth warm and willing beneath his. The battle lust was still racing through his veins and his earlier doubts seemed unimportant.

  “I believe we were interrupted.” He rumbled the words against her neck as he nipped at the sensitive skin and she shivered delightfully. “As soon as I get us back on course, we have unfinished business.”

  Unwilling to release her, he pulled her into his lap as he resumed his seat at the controls. She snuggled closer, nibbling his neck as he tried to concentrate on setting the auto-pilot.

  “Damn.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “That last explosion did more damage than I realized. The auto-pilot is offline. Also life support has switched to reserves.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “We’re in no immediate danger. The system is fully redundant. But it has to be repaired. If that was the only problem I would take the chance on repairing it on Sardor Two but I can’t fly the ship manually for three days.”

  “Can I help?”

  He hugged her but shook his head. “I don’t think we have time to train you as a pilot. Let me see if there is somewhere nearby where we can get repairs.”

  Dragar searched the maps and groaned. He searched again but it didn’t look like there was any other alternative. Fate was a bitch. He was going to have to renew his acquaintance with Kievan Rus.

  Chapter Eight

  Beth studied Dragar’s face. He looked tense and unhappy but it didn’t seem to be the ship that was worrying him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

  “The only place that’s close enough is Sigrast. It’s a space station.”

  That didn’t sound too bad. “And?”

  “And it belongs to Kievan Rus.”

  She waited and he didn’t volunteer any additional information. “And?”

  He frowned at her and then apparently realized that the name meant nothing to her. “I forget that you don’t know much about our culture. Kievan is…was Sardoran. He was a disgrace to the entire planet and he was eventually declared Outcast.”

  He stopped talking but he didn’t seem to be through, so she waited. When he finally continued, the bitterness in his voice surprised her. “Usually when someone is declared Outcast, they sneak away to die. Kievan only became more flamboyant. He fought his way up until now he owns and runs this station. Anything that can be bought or sold makes its way through here. Kievan always gets his cut and the dirtier the deal, the better he likes it.”

  “Will he harm us?”

  The pause lasted a little too long but then he shook his head. “Probably not. He does have a sense of honor, however twisted it may be. If he gives his word, he will keep it.”

  “But?”

  “He never does anything for free. We have…a history. That might grant us some favor with him but I just don’t know the way his mind works well enough to be sure.” He shrugged and then looked down at her face. “I don’t like the idea of you being near him.”

  Beth was starting to feel a little anxious about that as well but she smiled up at him. “You’ll take care of me.”

  “Always.” The word hung in the air while they looked at each other. Before she could respond, he turned to the controls and set their course.

  Flying the ship manually involved constant monitoring and a fairly frequent series of small adjustments but didn’t seem to require much concentration. Dragar made the corrections almost automatically, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. He hadn’t asked her to leave so Beth stayed curled in his lap and watched him. His face was tight and the scarred ridges white against his dark skin.

  “What does it mean when you say someone was declared Outcast?”

  His entire body went rigid beneath her. When he eventually spoke, the words seemed to come from a hollow place inside him.

  “I
t is the worse punishment given to a Sardoran warrior. If a warrior is accused of dishonor, he is tried in the Place of Judgment. If he is found guilty, he is declared Outcast and banished from Sardor for a period of years. However, no one expects him to return after the time is up.”

  “Why not?”

  “Most die without the support of their clan. And if he did live, many would not welcome his return. They would not trust him to behave with honor in the future.” He looked at her and she saw the flash of pain in his eyes. She knew.

  “You were declared Outcast?”

  His face tightened even further but he met her eyes. “Yes.”

  Beth knew she looked shocked but she just couldn’t process the information. Dragar was a dark, complex, violent man, but dishonorable? She couldn’t—she didn’t believe it—and her special sense didn’t believe it either. She shook her head slowly and his scars whitened. He started to lift her and she realized that he misunderstood her reaction. She threw her arms around his neck.

  “Oh no, you don’t.”

  Her response startled him and he stopped.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t you dare push me away. I don’t for one second believe that you ever acted without honor. But even if you had, even if the whole damn galaxy declared you Outcast, it wouldn’t mean a damn thing to me.” Tears were starting to slip down her cheeks as she clung to him, desperate for him to listen to her. He was so still she couldn’t even feel him breathe but she could feel his heart beating rapidly against her side.

  At last, he relaxed. He gave her a sudden, quick smile. His eyes were warm but still he shook his head.

  “Little one, I am touched by your loyalty but you’re wrong. I did not behave with honor although—” He hesitated. “I think I did the right thing. Of course, it’s easy to rationalize one’s actions when one wants desperately to believe one was right.”

  “Do you think Kievan Rus thinks he was right?”

  The question startled him but he tilted his head and considered it. “Actually, I suspect he does. Which means I am even more likely to be wrong.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “No, but you should know what kind of a man I am.” His voice was hard and she suddenly realized that this was his way of punishing himself. She started to protest but he wrapped his arms around her and told her about the campaign on Trillium.

  Trillium was a pretty planet. Everything from the vegetation to the indigenous species was soft and feathery and pastel. None of the native species were aggressive. The most predominant species was tiny and cute and friendly, with soft, silky, pink fur and huge pink eyes. They danced around the warriors constantly. Even the climate was soft—warm and damp with constant moisture to feed the thousands of sparkling streams and tiny waterfalls. Any one of a hundred species would have considered it an ideal place to spend some time.

  The Sardorans hated it. The colors were too pale; the air was too damp. The cute animals were annoying and no challenge to hunt. Worst of all, there was no one to fight. The warriors had been contracted to guard the planet while it was evaluated to determine its suitability as a claim planet. The chief criterion to make the claim viable was that no existing sentient species existed. Dragar and his fellow Chiefs had no doubt about the lack of intelligence on the planet, but it wasn’t their decision. They were there simply to make sure that no other species tried to jump the gun—either in establishing a claim or removing evidence of sentience.

  Dragar’s squad were youngsters on their first contract. Even though they were bored and restless, he insisted on maintaining military discipline. The warriors trained and patrolled, and growled their discontent. When word finally came that the Serigali were trying to establish a stronghold, the news spread with alarming speed. The Chiefs met to discuss tactics. The Serigali had chosen a surprisingly defensible location for their camp—an isolated bluff with rivers on both sides and a sheer cliff to the rear. The location had puzzled Dragar. The Serigali were not usually tacticians, they preferred fast violent battles where their numbers and sheer viciousness gave them an advantage. There couldn’t even be that many of them since all larger ships were tracked in and out of orbit. The only large ships allowed were the supply and science ships. Somewhat reluctantly, the other Chiefs had agreed to let him investigate.

  Climbing down the cliff, he had gotten close enough to find out the truth. The camp was crawling with Serigali; the Sardoran troops were seriously outnumbered. In addition, they were being led by a race that he didn’t recognize but who obviously had battle experience. They were setting traps for the warriors.

  He had returned and shared the news. It didn’t make any difference. Orders came from their employer. They were to attack with a full frontal assault. No matter how strongly he had argued that they would be walking into a slaughter, the decision was made. The Sardorans had agreed to a fighting contract and their honor would not allow them to retreat. After a long, sleepless night, he rose early and sent his youngsters to the transport ship, telling them that there was a change of plans. They grumbled but obeyed. They were off the planet before the battle started. A battle that killed every remaining Sardoran except for him. An explosion had come too close and he was knocked unconscious, half-buried under a pile of rocks. When he regained consciousness he was a prisoner. He was alone in a dark room for two days before they started torturing him.

  Those long, hellish weeks before he managed to escape changed him. The physical pain was overwhelming, but the mental pain was worse. His captors taunted him, telling him that he had betrayed Sardor. That he was not an honorable warrior. By the time he returned to Sardor, his physical wounds were mostly healed but something had shattered inside him. He had not fought the sentence.

  Beth stared at him. “You were Outcast because you saved your men?”

  “I violated the contract.”

  “That’s absurd.” The whole thing sounded insane. She narrowed her eyes. “Do civilians always command your battles?”

  “Of course not. They hire us for our military expertise. But this was an Imperial contract and they always reserve the right to direct the battle.”

  “So why did they order a battle that was only going to get everyone killed?”

  He stared at her and she could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. She suspected that he had been so obsessed by his own guilt he had never considered the situation before.

  “I just assumed that the officer in charge was incompetent,” he said slowly.

  “Was there something on that world that someone wanted?”

  “Trillium? No. No mineral rights, no valuable natural resources, no challenging prey. It would have been turned into a resort planet.”

  “Would have been?”

  “Yes. The claim was frozen after the battle.” He sighed and shook his head. “It doesn’t make any difference. I deserved my punishment.”

  Stubborn man. She obviously wasn’t going to change his mind so she let the subject drop. “Where did you go?”

  “I came to Sigrast Station. I knew that it belonged to Kievan Rus and I needed work. I was only allowed to leave with my ship and a few personal possessions. My holdings were confiscated.”

  He shrugged but she heard the pain in his voice and she wondered how much he had lost.

  “It was not a bad decision. I…worked for him for a while. Eventually he arranged for some contracts for me. I would probably still be there except that I heard that Sardor was dying. I went ho—I went back.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m still a Sardoran.” He shrugged again. “It seemed like the right thing to do. Jakkar was willing to accept my services.”

  Beth wondered if anyone else had been willing. He had returned to the people and planet that disowned him because they needed help. And he doubted his honor? She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. After a second, he returned the hug, burying his nose in her hair.

  The trip to Sigrast Station
took the rest of the day shift but the time was curiously peaceful. They were both worried about what was to come but Dragar seemed more relaxed, as if telling her about his past had lifted a weight from his shoulders. He had to spend most of the time in the command chair but he liked it when she curled up on his lap. She told him some of the happier memories of her past and he regaled her with tales of exotic worlds. While they talked he frequently played with her hair or kissed her neck.

  As the day wore on, they quieted, both anxious about the upcoming landing.

  “There it is,” Dragar said, at last.

  Chapter Nine

  Beth stared at the image filling the view screens in stunned amazement. She had expected something small but instead the station was enormous. Four huge rings were connected by spokes to a giant cylindrical center section. Twinkling lights speckled the surface, most predominantly around the rings. The rings themselves were concentrated around the top half of the cylinder. The bottom half was riddled with openings of various sizes and she could see a steady traffic of ships flying in and out.

  “How many people live there?”

  “At least a thousand on a regular basis. Several thousand more in transit at any given time.” Dragar frowned at her. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  The question startled her. “I hadn’t thought about it. I suppose it depends on how much I can pick up from non-humans.”

  “You don’t seem to have much problem reading me,” he said, a little drily.

  “But I’m sure you’re exceptional.”

  He grinned and kissed her but turned to the controls.

  “This is Sardoran ship Utrimt, requesting clearance to dock.”

  “Pilot?” The voice that responded was warmly female.

  “Chief Dragar, Clan…Leijona.”