Damn.
“Shouldn’t you be back in bed?” . . . and naked?
“I’m feeling much better, thanks, and I’ve been out of commission far too long.” He turned in the chair to look at her. Damn, he’d put on his pants and boots too. Still, his sexy smile caused dampness to pool in her core.
“They’re both asleep, poor dears,” she told him.
“Good.” His smile broadened. “Lart may talk tough, but that process took a lot out of the little guy, and he’s got a tough couple of weeks ahead.”
“He’ll be giving birth that soon?” Phoebe was still wrapping her head around the male of a species giving birth at all.
“Yeah, it won’t be long now. I doubt we’ll be able to get them home before the big event, unless I can get my hands on some credits.”
Rigel turned back to the ship’s monitors. Over his shoulder Phoebe watched him bring up their course. “Tanis Yarbia was a good choice. In a couple of days we’ll be close enough to access their employment opportunities. I’ll find something.”
Phoebe thought about all the credits she had languishing, and untouchable. She’d never lived poor, before. She’d never been dependent on anyone but her parents. Now, like the Blarmlings, she was completely in Rigel’s hands.
“If only there was something I could do to help.”
She’d leaned over his shoulder to look at the monitors. His clean, musky scent filled her senses. He turned his head and planted a kiss on her cheek. “See if you can use the husk of that clown car to make a crib for the babies. It’s going to get a little crowded in here.
The ship, made to accommodate no more than about three at the most, would now be hosting nine. True, five of those would be babies, but still . . .
Oolo’s twittering came from the doorway of the cell. The sleepy eyed Blarmling stood leaning on the doorjamb. Phoebe couldn’t understand what she was saying, but again that word, vrrrll, was repeated as she exchanged words with Rigel.
“What? No, but there must be something else.” Rigel’s eyes were wide with concern.
Oolo sighed and looked sad. Shrugging she replied to him. Though she couldn’t understand what, Phoebe knew something was terribly wrong.
“Rigel, what is vrrrll. She and Lart were trying to tell me something about that before. I think it’s some kind of food.”
Rigel’s voice was distant, as if lost in thought. “The verril tree grows only on Blarm. Its leaves are their primary source of food, though adult Blarmlings eat other foods as well. Baby Blarmlings require the soft greenery. It is all they eat for the first three months of life.
“Can’t it be produced from the food replicator?” Phoebe turned to the machine, knowing its limitations.
“Probably, if we knew the right programming, but there are millions of possible combinations. Evidently the Blarmlings have been trying. Without knowing the proper settings though, it’s like looking for a bit in a datastorm.” Rigel shook his head. “Without verril leaves, the baby Blarmlings will die within hours of being born.”
A chill stole through Rigel’s stomach. It couldn’t be true, but deep down he knew it made sense.
Do not have Phoebe waste time building crib. Babies will not survive.
Oolo’s statement reverberated through his mind. She’d already accepted it, but Rigel refused to. “There has to be something we can do.”
You have said there is no way to get to Blarm before birth. I see the truth inside you.
If they could steal another ship, or rob a shipyard of the parts on Tanis Yarba. All they needed was a warp core.
No. Oolo held out her hand toward Rigel. You are a man of honor. You are not a criminal. You will not steal.
“But your babies . . .” Sometimes the cause justified the action.
Phoebe is already paying a price too high for our lives. You have both done more than we could ever ask.
But it hadn’t been enough, had it. Damn the Theiler system for marking him. Damn O’Callaghan for making him poor. And damn the galactic Gods for condemning five innocent babies.
Caught up in his thoughts and condemnations, Rigel missed the meaning of the warning flasher on the control board. Phoebe’s hand on his shoulder brought him back. “Rigel, there’s another ship coming up on starboard, and it just locked its weapons on us.”
Rigel moved to the keypad to initiate a scan of the approaching ship . . . no, ships. Three . . . four . . . seven . . . nine of them suddenly popping out of hyperspace, all with weapons trained on The Blarmlings’ Hope.
“Who are they?” Phoebe asked.
Rigel recognized the ships’ designation. “Pirates.”
Chapter 23
“Rigel Antares. I have heard good things about you.” The voice was cordial and well mannered, but a thinly veiled threat lurked beneath the words. “I would like to take this opportunity to invite you, and any guests you may have onboard your ship, to land on the planet Vega 7, below. I have an offer you might find attractive.”
Rigel did not know the man whose face dominated the com monitor. His ebony hair was streaked with gray, and his dark eyes pools of mystery. A finely manicured Van Dyke beard graced his chin. The cordial smile seemed forced.
Standing behind the mystery man was someone Rigel did recognize. Fen Vibald, a bounty hunter who’d gone missing some months ago. Fen was also a spacer.
“Listen to him, Rigel,” Fen said. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“You appear to have me at a disadvantage.” Rigel addressed the man, ignoring Fen for the moment. “Your name, sir?”
A smile creased the corners of the man’s mouth, revealing a golden tooth. “I am Captain Djon le Piere.”
Gooseflesh crept up Rigel’s spine. Djon le Piere was notorious in this sector, with a bounty on his head high enough to buy a whole fleet of starships. But Rigel wasn’t even considering trying to capture the pirate. He would be lucky just to survive this meeting.
“Of course I will meet with you, Captain le Piere.” Rigel forced a smile. “It would be an honor.”
Vega 7 was classified as a low-tech planet. A colony of backtechers had purchased the world and zoned it ‘keep off’ with the Galactic Registry over fifty years before. Technically Rigel was breaking the law just landing his ship on it. It rankled to be forced into this position.
Then he noted the galactic marshal in charge of keeping the planet safe, was none other than Clarence O’Callaghan. His stomach roiled.
Rigel chose a densely forested area to set down. Barely big enough to fit The Blarmlings’ Hope, the clearing he found rested in a valley that would hopefully shield the ship from detection, at least for a while. Rigel would gladly give himself up if needed, but Phoebe and the Blarmlings needed the ship and at least a chance of escape. He had no intention of bringing them with him to the meeting.
Pistons creaked as the landing gear settled on the planet’s surface. The retro’s hissed and dust clouded the clearing. Rigel switched the engines to standby. It would save fuel, but keep the ship ready to blast off at a moment’s notice.
“Stay here and keep watch.” He pointed down to stress his warning to Phoebe. “They’ll probably be looking for the ship. I don’t want them to find you. Do what you have to, to keep the Blarmlings safe, even if that means blasting off and leaving me behind.”
“I’m not leaving you behind.” Her brilliant green eyes darkened in determination. He swept her into a kiss. Soft curves cushioned the strength of her embrace. He broke the kiss and hugged her tightly.
“I’m not planning on staying behind, but if you must leave me, know that I will find you again.” Nothing in the universe would stop him from returning to Phoebe’s arms. “Lay low here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
His hovercycle would easily speed him to the coordinates he�
�d been given for the meeting. Rigel unfolded the lightweight metal frame and attached a fully charged battery pack to the vehicle. Phoebe stood in the open airlock doorway watching.
“It’s a beautiful planet,” she said.
It was. Lush greenery surrounded them. A brightly lit azure sky hosted fluffy white clouds drifting lazily across it. Serene and comforting. The yellow sun was a rarity in this part of the galaxy, dominated by red giants and white dwarfs.
Rigel wasn’t fooled for a moment.
“Beautiful and dangerous. Have the Blarmlings test the local foliage to see if it will work as a Verril replacement, but stay close to the ship. After your tests, stay onboard with engines ready to blast off . . . and the doors locked.”
He pulled a nearby leaf from a tree and took a quick sniff. It seemed similar to the Verril leaves he remembered from Blarm. Could those trees really be that unique?
Well, that was something for Phoebe and the Blarmlings to examine. Rigel had a meeting to attend. A meeting with the most dangerous man in this sector of space.
Phoebe watched Rigel zoom off into the dense foliage on the hovercycle. Once again she felt the void of separation. No man had ever affected her this way. She’d had her share of lovers and friends, but no one had ever touched her so deeply.
Her lips tingled, still feeling the contact of his on them, but her heart quaked at the thought of the danger he was heading into. Danger she had put him in. If only . . .
No, that line of thinking only led to doubt and agony. She had to keep positive. She had to keep busy. Grabbing a bio scanner, she headed out to test as large a variety of local flora as possible. Oolo, Lart, and their babies needed to be front and center in her thinking.
Oolo joined her in the search. Phoebe tested plants for toxins, then the Blarmling would sniff and taste them. Oolo had stepped up into the dominant, protective role after the transfer, pushing Lart into submissiveness. The role reversal was stunning, and somewhat hilarious. Even without understanding the words, their conversations showed Oolo directing, and Lart complying.
Biggest man, meet biggest woman.
Phoebe didn’t find any of the local plants poisonous or dangerous in any way, but time and time again, Oolo shook her head and tossed the leaf away after tasting it. This planet’s vegetation didn’t seem to be suitable for the Blarmlings’ needs. Why did Blarm have to be on the other side of the galaxy?
Well, that was her fault too. She’d picked the route that took her out of the main shipping lanes, to avoid the galactic marshals. Of course she couldn’t have known about the Blarmlings food needs, and she had saved their lives, but still—
She became aware of the rustling in the underbrush too late to do anything about it. Dark forms rose out of the foliage around her with startling suddenness.
A gruff, masculine voice commanded. “Don’t move.”
Five sleek starships sat on what looked to be a scorched farmer’s field. Behind them rose a massive structure of stone and mortar. Armed guards stood watch by the ships, and upon the roof and walls of the fortress.
Rigel parked the hovercycle behind an outcropping of rock and did his best to look confident as he strolled into view of the guards. Four blasters were leveled at him as he approached the starships. Suspicious eyes scanned him from head to toe, trigger fingers tense and at the ready. Rigel didn’t need the tingles at the base of his skull to tell him he’d just entered a very dangerous situation.
He raised his hands. “I’m not looking for any trouble.”
The air was rank with gandisol fumes and spent ion trailings. The stagnant air did little to clear the stench of old starships newly landed.
“And I’m sure you won’t find any trouble here.” The bold voice spoke from the arched doorway of the stone structure. There was a confident swagger in the man’s gait as he strolled into view. Captain Djon le Piere looked every inch the pirate. Bold, fierce, and in complete control. Tight lipped and unreadable, there was cold determination in the old man’s eye. “Rigel Antares, at last we meet in person.”
The pirate stopped for a moment to turn and address his guards. “Put your weapons down, men, and welcome one of the most cunning bounty hunters this side of the Niobian Nebula.”
A large grin spread slowly across le Piere’s leathery face and he quickened his pace. It almost looked genuine. “Welcome Rigel. Welcome to the Brotherhood of the Black Star. Spacers all, and damned proud of it.”
“Ho!” The cheer rose from the guards and others out of sight behind the hulking star-craft. Rigel estimated at least twenty men were visible or hidden around him, with potentially many more inside the giant structure.
Captain le Piere strode quickly across the field, extending his hand toward Rigel as he approached. There was no going back now, so Rigel accepted the extended hand.
The Captain’s grip was strong and sure, his smile cordial and inviting.
“What is it I can do for you, Captain le Piere?” Rigel asked.
Djon le Piere released Rigel’s hand, then placed his fists on his hips, puffing his chest while shaking his head. “It’s not what you can do for me.” Then he pointed toward Rigel. “It’s what I can do for you.”
Rigel cocked his head, raised his eyebrows, and waited. The man was a showman, a trait Rigel could appreciate. To a point, le Piere reminded him of Rotund at his best.
The Captain’s brows knitted together and his eyes darkened. “Did I not invite everyone on your ship to join us?” He scanned behind Rigel, as if looking for others.
A chill crept into Rigel’s stomach, thinking of Phoebe, Oolo and Lart back on The Blarmlings’ Hope. “I work alone.”
It wasn’t necessarily a lie, yet not quite the answer to Djon le Piere’s question. Rigel widened his stance and shrugged, while a bead of sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades.
The Captain sighed. “Of course you do, and that is precisely what I want to talk to you about. Come, share a glass of Cerrillian Port with me. I think you will find my offer appealing.”
Rigel knew it was rarely a good thing to trust a pirate, and kept his hand near the blaster holstered at his side. Still, perhaps there was a deal of some kind he could make with le Piere to obtain the warp drive he so desperately needed to save the Blarmlings and their babies. Maybe the galactic Gods weren’t quite as cruel as Rigel believed.
Captain le Piere motioned Rigel to follow, then turned and strode toward the doorway of the fortress.
“I’m all ears,” Rigel said, stepping into the stronghold behind Captain le Piere.
Chapter 24
The forested camp was primitive. Light came from a large bonfire in a central pit and smoky torches lit around the perimeter. Canvas tents and crude wooden structures ringed the fire, and dense foliage surrounded the clearing. As darkness fell, the flames cast eerie shadows against the wall of the tent Phoebe sat in.
Phoebe and the Blarmlings were not bound, but were most definitely prisoners of the men and women who dressed in greens and browns to blend with the forest foliage. They were people of stealth, and cunning woodcraft, she’d quickly learned.
They wielded ancient weapons, bows and arrows, swords, and daggers. There was not a firearm among them. It was like being caught up in a troupe of medieval actors, but these men and women were not acting. Worried lines and darkened eyes told a tale of people living in terror.
The buzzing of insectoids, and skittering sounds of small animals in the tree branches outside the tent, put Phoebe’s nerves on edge. These people, this world, were so alien.
“Why are you here?” The raven-haired man with the dark, piercing gaze appeared to be the group’s leader. Suspicion lined his handsome face. His eyes bore into hers, hawk-like, as if trying to peer into her soul. Powerfully built and on edge, this was not a man to trifle with.
“We were forced to land here, by pirates.” It was the fourth time she’d told him. Even though she was sitting close to the campfire, it did little to warm the chill that grew in Phoebe’s stomach.
“So you’ve said.” The man nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.
Phoebe’s annoyance with the man loosed her tongue. “Yes, so I’ve said. Four times. Why don’t you ask me something else? What do you want from me?”
“You are my captive.” The man began to pace. “I will ask my questions in my own time.”
Lart sat beside Phoebe on the dirt floor of the small shack. Oolo stood protectively in front of him. Phoebe’s one ray of hope lay in Oolo’s eyes. The Blarmling was on guard, but not agitated. Knowing that the Blarmlings could read their capturers’ minds, Phoebe had to trust they were in no real danger . . . yet.
The man pointed toward the Blarmlings. “These creatures are your pets? Some kind of guard animal?”
Ire rose inside. “They’re not animals. They’re people!”
A woman moved out of the shadows, placing a slim hand on the man’s shoulder. A long fall of curly brunette hair spilled down her back and across her shoulders. Her eyes were bright with intelligence, yet dark and sunken with fatigue. These people all seemed to have a haunted look, yet in this woman, an optimism shone through.
“Ryan, please, this isn’t helping,” she said. “I don’t believe she is an enemy. You are letting fear rule you.”
The woman gently, yet firmly, pushed the man aside and moved toward Phoebe and the Blarmlings. “My name is Mirin Middon. What’s yours?”
The Blarmling Dilemma (Hearts in Orbit Book 1) Page 16
