In the Black

by Sheryl Nantus

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t have options. Hell, she was the captain of a Mercy ship and had full access to the services and personnel within.

  She could purchase an hour from Sean or, if she were really desperate, Dane. A fast hour of quick, meaningless sex with no commitment, nothing but a financial transaction between a professional and a customer.

  The option wasn’t unheard of. It’d even earned a short notation in the manual, detailing the costs and the discount offered to the captain.

  There was nothing wrong with it.

  Nothing, that is, other than the embarrassment of having to face him later on as his captain, not a client. She hadn’t slept with any of the men in her squad for the same reason, and even though she wasn’t wearing a uniform anymore the same rules still applied, at least in her mind.

  Look but don’t touch. Save that for the long nights strapped in her hammock when she could fantasize about whatever or whomever she wanted without fear or guilt.

  But would it be enough for the rest of her contract? Or should she make an appointment with Sean and get it over with, shut down the longing and the need to be touched?

  It wasn’t like he’d use it against her, not like Dane would. That bastard wouldn’t let it go and would be rubbing her face in it every time he had a problem and Sam ruled against him.

  No, it’d have to be Sean.

  But the risks still outweighed the benefits.

  For now.

  Sam sighed. She wasn’t at that point yet. But it was on the horizon and she knew it.

  She shifted in her seat. It wasn’t so much the sex; it was the basic need to touch and be touched. Held, stroked, hugged.

  Not that there was anything wrong with hot, sweaty, crazed sex. But her skin ached for the simple sensation of being caressed, fingertips drawing lazy circles on her back until she fell asleep. Goosebumps rising from a gentle kiss, gasping at the sensations traveling over her body from a simple touch.

  Damn it, she had it bad.

  She wasn’t going to pay Sean to just cuddle, not at those rates.

  Time to shift gears before she got beyond frustrated and said or did something she’d regret.

  “Belle, is there any hot water left? I could use a shower.” She wriggled her toes.

  “Unfortunately, April and Bianca are using the showers at present. I calculate the next surplus of hot water in an hour for a zero-g bath.” The computer voice waited a minute. “Unless you’d like to choose a full-gravity shower instead.”

  Sam looked out the small viewport. She couldn’t afford to pay for a full-gravity shower as often as the courtesans could. A zero-g bath was at the bottom of the rate chart, cheap and aggravating. It was more of a workout than a bath, swiping and flailing in hot water bubbles swirling around you in an annoying dance.

  The Guild demanded payment for every bit of luxury, every little extra. Cutting costs every way they could to maximize the profit. The clients were charged for everything up to and including having full gravity for whatever they wanted to do with the men and women of the Belle.

  And in turn the Guild charged the courtesans for everything they could. Jenny’s renovations to the personal quarters came at a price, along with each and every use of items beyond the bare essentials, and that didn’t amount to much more than bread and water with a damp washcloth once a week. It might have suited her when she was on duty in a live-fire zone, but it sure wasn’t enough for men and women looking to sell their services.

  She didn’t know what it cost the courtesans, but she knew that sleeping in full gravity for eight hours in her small room could run her paycheck into negative numbers.

  It was close to the old company store scam but Sam wasn’t a soft rookie on her first trip off planet. Her bank account was in the black and growing with every extra she denied herself. She didn’t need the luxuries the other girls did and didn’t want most of them.

  “I’ll get to the shower later. Not like I’m entertaining anyone.” She turned her attention to the data scrolling over the multiple screens around her. “Let’s talk about what we’re going to do after the vital maintenance work’s done—any extras Jenny thinks we need. Call and link her in. I want to hear her thoughts on what we need now and what we can put off until our next landing. Branson Prime’s a rock and they’re going to charge us top rates for whatever we get here. If we can delay something until our next landfall safely then let’s do so.” She leaned back and touched the small fan attached to one of the control panels. The lukewarm air fluttered over her bare skin, reminding her again about how long it’d been since she’d kissed a man, let alone done anything else.

  Sam pushed that sad statistic to the back of her mind and listened to Jenny chirp through the speakers, interrupted every now and then by Belle making a neutral comment.

  * * *

  Six hours later Sam considered asking Sean to put her into deep sedation so she could sleep straight through the next two weeks. She peered over the top of the paperback in her hands at the small black-and-white surveillance camera screen showing the line of men waiting in the corridor to get onto the ship. Some held thick books, some had boxes containing God-knows-what, and one miner made motions with his hands that both intrigued and terrified her. They all chatted as if they were in the meal line waiting to get a tray of rehydrated slop, not waiting to pay a courtesan for an hour of bliss.

  She’d seen very different attitudes in the lineups for the Charity ships docked at the military bases. Back then she’d always volunteered for guard duty because the bonus money came in handy at the weekly poker games.

  It was a different world than this, the men and women shuffling their feet and not daring to look at each other, the only reason to be in line being for sex, no other. Charity ships didn’t offer sweet conversation or anything else other than fulfilling the basic human need. Cheap, yes. Classy, no. Pay your fee, go in and either fuck or be fucked. Wham bam thank you ma’am and don’t forget the tip jar at the door.

  She’d never partaken. Her favored option had been the cheap, old-fashioned date with her own hand.

  Right now she could understand the appeal and practicality of the Charity ships. No commitments, no judgments and no disappointments.

  She still couldn’t bring herself to call Sean to see if he had a space open.

  Sam tossed the well-thumbed mystery novel toward the wall. It bounced off the viewport and back toward her, the limp pages fluttering open. All she could imagine was the male detective getting it on with his female partner, with plenty of hot and heavy sex as he slammed her against the office wall and had his way with her even as she owned him, body and soul. Her mind ran through the last few pages, adding her own twist to the scenario.

  She devoured his mouth as he thrust into her, filling the hollow spot in her heart even as she raced toward orgasm...

  * * *

  Sam blinked awake as the monitor in front of her flickered, the black-and-white images dancing across the screen as she shook herself back to full awareness. Catnapping in the cockpit wasn’t against the rules but she rarely dozed off in the middle of a daytime shift.

  Her eyes went to the monitor as it stopped on the landing bay and the line of waiting customers.

  No tough street detective there. No ruggedly handsome space cowboy either.

  Just a line of needy men. No hot and heavy sex, nothing but a crappy mystery novel floating in front of her with a raggedy cover and bad writing.

  The ache between her legs subsided to a low throbbing as she shifted in the seat, resisting the urge to rub her thighs together.

  Maybe she could work a trade with the base’s library. It couldn’t be stocked with only pornographic magazines like the last two had been. Get her head into some military history books or—

  The alarm bell erupted from a nearby speaker. For a
moment she was back at the Hub and she broke into a sweat, her pulse shooting skyward. A blink of an eye and she was back on the ship’s bridge and safe.

  Relatively speaking. That wasn’t a call to the galley for more of Kendra’s fruit salad.

  “Belle.” She slapped the harness release mechanism and pushed herself up out of the chair. Her hands flailed in the air for a second before she grabbed one of the straps on the wall. Moisture beaded on her forehead as she anchored herself in the here and now. “Belle!”

  “The disturbance is in Halley’s suite,” her voice answered. “April is the one who activated the alarm.”

  Sam yanked on the door handle and swam out into the corridor, heading for the courtesans’ quarters. “Initiate lockdown. Shut the entire damned place down. Command access only.”

  The alarm bell echoed in her head, triggering memories she’d hoped never to deal with again. One of the reasons she’d chosen a Mercy ship was to get as far away as she could from any type of stress—the Guild had told her it was rare to have any sort of emergency on a Mercy ship.

  After all, everyone loved a Mercy woman. Or man.

  “Affirmative.” Belle answered in the same neutral tone. “Lockdown procedure underway.”

  She yanked the hatch open and hauled herself down toward the galley, flying through the corridor as fast as she could. Around her the grinding and snapping of gates and grills being closed and locked sounded, the Belle turning into a sealed fortress. Wherever Jenny was, she was being sealed in as well, trapped in her quarters or in the undercarriage.

  The bolts engaged behind her as she dove through the galley and swam into the main hallway for the private quarters.

  April hovered there, hand clamped over her mouth in what Sam hoped was a successful attempt not to vomit. Her trembling finger pointed at Halley’s open door.

  “I was about to ask if she wanted to get lunch before her next appointment, and...” She swallowed hard. Her head dropped down as she pressed her hand tighter against her lips, trembling from head to foot. Her sheer purple gown shook back and forth, her slippered feet a few inches off the floor.

  “Stay here. Don’t go anywhere.” Sam glanced up. “Belle, where are the other girls?”

  “Everyone has called in safe from their quarters except for April, Halley and yourself. The clients on board are waiting to be released from their courtesans’ rooms and the remaining customers are sequestered in the landing bay.” The tone in Belle’s voice left no room for interpretation. Few people, including Sam, wanted to risk being gassed by her always-ready tear gas dispensers by disobeying a direct order. There was also knock-out gas available but it’d leave bodies around and wouldn’t disperse the crowd as effectively.

  The Guild believed in home protection.

  “What did you see?” she asked April.

  The courtesan shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

  Sam’s pulse shot into triple digits. She’d only known April for a few months and the woman wasn’t given to overreacting.

  Whatever was inside wasn’t normal for a Mercy ship.

  “Thanks, Belle. Stand by for further instructions.” She paused. “Activate within Halley’s private quarters. I want to be able to talk to you while inside.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Sam pulled the door open. She’d never been invited into anyone’s quarters and all she knew was from the model the Guild used to prep new captains as to what a Mercy ship looked like in the business areas.

  First would be the arrival room. Where the wheeling and dealing went down, where the client and courtesan bargained over what was wanted and how much it’d cost.

  The standard dim lighting restricted any real clear vision. The theory was that it helped create a mellow calming mood, encouraging the clients to relax and enjoy themselves.

  She reached for the dimmer switch on the wall. The lights came on, blasting full illumination inside the suite.

  Sam swam around the receiving room, the pastel colors of the floating curtains and pillows grinding on her nerves. This was the first thing the clients saw when they entered, a neutral safe zone for them to negotiate what they wanted.

  She ran through the blueprints in her mind to try to calm her racing pulse. The public bedroom was off to the left, personal quarters to the right. Each courtesan’s quarters had three rooms to use as they wished, two branching off the main arrival room.

  Her right hand instinctively went to her side, searching for an invisible holster. She wished for her old sidearm, locked away in her quarters. Captains weren’t supposed to wear weapons in public—it tended to destroy the peaceful image the Mercy ships were trying to create.

  Sam approached the public bedroom, grabbing the nylon straps one by one to keep a hand free at all times. Belle hadn’t said anything about a customer in the suite but it was possible she’d missed something and Sam was about to find a disgruntled, angry man wondering where his date was.

  Trust no one. Even a super-smart computer AI.

  Sam swam into the room.

  Empty.

  The king-sized bed was anchored to the floor with tight leather straps, floating just above the beige carpet. A picture frame on one wall ran through a variety of landscapes. The opposing wall held the same frame but displayed a series of erotic pictures.

  No sheets, no pillows. Nothing but a bare mattress.

  Either Halley’s last client had wanted to talk or she’d already cleaned up, then tossed the laundry into the nearby chute for Jenny.

  Sam swam back into the arrival room and turned toward the personal quarters. There was only one other place for Halley to be.

  She paused in the doorway and stared.

  Nothing special in there.

  Nothing except a dead body.

  Halley hung just over the bed, floating above the white-and-yellow bedspread and matching sheets. A single drop of blood rolled off a finely manicured fingernail and into the air, orbiting around to rise above the corpse and head for the ceiling.

  Crimson globs dotted the walls.

  Halley slowly rotated toward her, her slit throat a second mouth smiling with the lips opening and closing as she continued her circuit. Her face was frozen in a scream, the open gash dribbling even more drops into the scarlet scene. The long-sleeved red dress fluttered around her, giving her wings.

  A carving knife hovered nearby, near her right hand. Blood stained the blade in spite of the zero gravity.

  The crimson drop hung in the air in front of Sam, revolving slowly as it continued to dance. It shifted from an oval to a circle to a teardrop as she watched. But whatever shape it took, it was still red. And one of the Belle’s crew was still dead.

  Sam retreated into the corridor, taking deep breaths to push down the nausea. It never got any easier to see death and she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted it to. A second later she slammed the hatch shut.

  “Belle, contact the base authorities. Get the medical officer out here right now. Cancel all reservations with full refunds.” The words were hers but she heard them through a long tunnel, echoing in her ears. “No outgoing calls except through my direct authorization. Call the security chief and—” She paused, unsure if she wanted to say her thoughts aloud.

  “Captain?”

  “Tell him we have an emergency. I need guards on the other side of the landing bay to help keep the men inside until they’re cleared. And I need to see him after that, solo.” She caught her breath. “Call Sean, unlock his cabin and tell him to come here and bring some tranqs for April.”

  She knew what it was supposed to look like, a stressed-out woman taking her own life by slicing her throat.

  She knew what it was—a murder.

  It was a crap shoot if the killer was still on the ship. If he was smart he’d high-tailed it out a
fter killing Halley and avoided getting caught in the arrival area with the rest of the incoming and outgoing clients.

  Even if he got off the ship he’d be stranded on the base along with the rest of the miners.

  Along with the occupants of the Bonnie Belle.

  “Affirmative.” The soft voice rumbled around the walls. April floated down to the floor, hiding her face in her hands as she sobbed.

  Sam pressed against the wall. This was definitely not in the manual.

  Chapter Two

  Marshal Daniel LeClair dozed in his command chair, his mind wandering toward landfall and the chance to get his boots onto some solid rock. Razor’s Edge, his ship, was set on autopilot for the nearest relief station. It had been a long three months patrolling the shipping lanes and he was good and ready for a break, even if it’d be on one of the outlying colonies. Relief bases weren’t pretty or luxurious but it would give him a chance to get into a few poker games with some real people and hopefully take their money.

  Not to mention updating his video collection. There were only so many times he could watch Linda Does Lunar before it actually became boring. And when that became boring—

  The communication console chirped at him. “Danny? You there? Danny?”

  The white-haired man sighed, shifting slightly in the cushioned chair. “Etts, tell them we’re not home. Leave a message at the sound of the beep.”

  The answering chirps and toots brought an annoyed frown to his face. His computer AI was smart enough to realize this was a situation beyond the computer’s capacity to deal with.

  “Danny.” The single word held a note of command. “Answer the fucking phone. I don’t have time to screw around right now. This is a priority call, not an invitation to a damned poker game.”

  He groaned before sitting up and tapping the button. “I’m here.”

  “You’re on your way to Allenridge 44, right?”

  “No secret, Commander. You’ve got my flight plan. What’s up?” The use of the title was intentional. Kyle Harris was a nice guy but he loved to pull rank, especially if he was losing at cards.