Havoc

by Linda Gayle

  There was something in her gentle touch, in her soft voice, he had to admit. Even he was drawn in by her natural beauty. Not that he didn’t like a woman on occasion, liked the difference between soft and hard bodies beneath him, over him…

  A bit shocked, he realized his cock had stiffened. Saints—this was bad news all around. A woman like this could work them both into a froth. Still… “That doesn’t ensure the sanctity of my ass,” he drawled, tipping his chin toward Kels. “And not even your dew-puppy eyes will get me to put that on the table, not for Ulvik.”

  Kels opened his mouth to answer, but Sayal cut him short. “I’ll do it. I’ll offer myself. If you lose, this Ulvik can have me for the night.”

  Kels reeled back. “The fuck you will.”

  She put her hand over his. Now she touched them both, as if unifying them. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to reach the Zone. I cannot stress that enough, Captain Havoc.”

  “Well, I don’t like it.” Leaving the hand she touched on the table, Kels rubbed the other on the back of his neck, scowling.

  “Seems like a fair deal to me,” Elion said lightly, refusing to show that he was affected by her too and appalled. She couldn’t have seen Ulvik, or she wouldn’t have thrown that offer out so casually.

  Sayal smiled, and Elion thought golden sunlight had impossibly beamed down on him in this dingy gray cafe. She said, “It’s settled, then. When can you meet with Ulvik and arrange the game?”

  Ulvik Tor was human, genetically at least, but he’d needled so much altered DNA beneath his skin that few would realize he wasn’t some bizarre midlien slumming in the Dregs. In fact, he was one of the best inkmen in sentient space, something Kels explained to Sayal as the three of them walked the crowded passage to the old scrag’s shop. “Keeva, my former gamespartner, had her best work done by him.”

  Sayal’s forehead wrinkled. “Biolume. What is that exactly?”

  “Bioluminescence,” Elion explained, bracing her other side. To Kels’s assessing gaze, he seemed calmer, though he could tell his mate wasn’t nearly as in tune with this job as he appeared. It was a worry.

  Elion continued. “Inkmen take the DNA from deep-sea creatures, the cells that let them make light in the dark depths, and create tattoos with it. Really expensive.”

  “Pretty, though,” Kels said, thinking back on Keeva’s glamorous tats.

  “When it works,” El said.

  “And when it doesn’t?” Sayal asked, walking so close her body brushed Kels’s side.

  He put his hand at the base of her spine, just above her swaying ass, wishing he could cup the firm flesh, debating whether he could or should. “Then it gets messy. There’s a certain toxicity to biolume. If it gets in your bloodstream, well…it changes you. Sort of takes root in your system, you know? Like a seed.”

  Elion grunted. “That’s putting it lightly. Before it kills you, it does its best to transform you into whatever creature, or creatures, the lume came from. Squid, anglerfish, Dorvian eel. The brighter the lume, the more exotic the blend, the more likely you’ll pitch.”

  “Every inkman uses his own magic formula. Intensely secretive lot they are, one always trying to outdo the other. Lots of casualties as a result. That’s why you don’t see more of it.” Kels nodded toward a shop entrance illuminated with a single string of tiny, flashing blue and green lights, and they headed in that direction, bumping along between streaming lanes of scowling humans and wheezing, whuffling lowliens. “But if the inkman’s good, like Ulvik, they can work miracles.”

  He ushered her up the short flight of stairs. Despite Ulvik’s notoriety, his shop wouldn’t draw eyes, with the plain metal door and nameplate marked only with his signature logo, a delicate filigree design anyone would miss if they weren’t looking for it. If you had the iron for a lume tat, you’d figure out where to locate him. That was the way he liked it.

  They pushed through the door, Kels letting Sayal in first. El, at his shoulder, hit him with a frigid stare. No, not in tune at all. “I don’t like this,” Elion muttered, and Kels could only shrug and jerk his head so his mate would go in ahead of him.

  Ulvik’s delightful daughter worked the reception desk. “What happened to your arm, luv?” Kels asked, for it appeared she was missing a limb.

  Treena laughed. Her skin whirled with streams of pale green and blue, chasing and swirling around her brilliant lavender eyes and her cheeks, racing down her throat to scatter between her lovely tits.

  “It’s the latest thing, Kels.” She flicked her shoulder, and her missing arm came suddenly into view. Then, in a blink, it disappeared again, and he realized her skin had taken on the pattern of the background, which in this case, was the pink-and-white-striped wallpaper that always reminded him of an Old Earth candy shop.

  “By the saints, what’ve you done to yourself?” he muttered, reaching for her arm. She let him take her wrist and draw her arm across the counter. Elion and Sayal crowded close to examine it. He tipped her arm this way and that, and it took only a moment before the skin pattern changed to blend in with the surface upon which it lay. Even the image of his fingers appeared where they held her. Incredibly creepy and amazing. “What’s your dad up to with this? It’s not biolume.”

  She giggled again, as was her habit. He’d had her giggling all night, once, memorably. “It’s camouflage. Very expensive.”

  “Could you do a full body?” Sayal asked, her brows lowered as she ran a finger over Treena’s arm.

  “No one could afford it,” the girl said, biting her lower lip and clearly enjoying the attention, the little exhibitionist. “My pop’s still hammering out the digs.”

  “Digs?” Elion shook his head. “You let him experiment on you when it’s still in the works? You know what it could do to you.”

  “Actually, I don’t. It’s so new, nobody knows. I like it so far, though.” She passed a picture of Old Earth under her arm, one of a field full of yellow and white flowers, blue sky, red birds. Her skin pattern shifted and blurred before coalescing into a reasonable facsimile. It wouldn’t fool anyone up close, but from a distance, it once again appeared she had but one arm.

  Kels whistled through his teeth. “Staggering.”

  “Unnerving,” Elion said. He was a downer today with that puss on his face. Kels decided he’d have to take him out later and get him ripped. Elion had a habit of carrying all their woes on his shoulders, even though Kels always got them out of hot water, one way or the other. Like now. Their man Ulvik had just come into the entryway.

  Tall, gaunt, and ugly—where had his gorgeous offspring come from?—he wiped his long-fingered hands on a white rag and looked none too pleased to see them. His skin was an odd shade of grayish green, his head completely bald except for a skinny iron gray braid hanging over his shoulder. His gaze touched on Sayal and lingered. Even though it made Kels’s stomach flip, it was the reaction he should have been hoping for if Sayal would be the prize.

  “What do you want?” Ulvik had a flat, deep voice and a flat, unexpressive face to go with it. Like his daughter, the skin of his arms rippled with biolume designs. Unlike his daughter, he had no facial tats. They’d give away his emotions, and he seemed to prefer to remain a human statue.

  “I want my ship back,” Kels said.

  Ulvik dragged his rag between his knuckles. Patches of glowing fluid showed on it. “I like your ship. Why would I want to give her up?”

  “Come on, Ulvik. You and I both know why you wanted her. Let’s let bygones be bygones. Or at least give me a chance to win her back.”

  “There’s nothing you possess that I would want.” But his eyes twitched tellingly toward Sayal. Suddenly, Kels found his mouth wouldn’t form the words. He couldn’t risk giving Sayal to this creeper. Just the thought of those fishy, undulating fingers on her smooth, golden skin made his fine hairs stand on end.

  He rested his hand on the butt of his disruptor instead and said, “If I lose, you can fuck me.”

  [B
ack to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  Sayal gasped and stepped closer to put her hand on Kels’s arm. He would sacrifice himself for her? “That’s not what we agreed upon.”

  “Kels, you can’t be serious,” Elion joined in.

  Sayal said, “I offered myself.” She turned to Ulvik, swallowed hard once, and said, “It’s me you’ll win, should he lose. I’ll give myself to you.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Elion came forward to stand beside them, his blue eyes heated. “The original prize was my ass, and frankly, the ship can’t fly without a captain, and there’s no point in flying her without a passenger. If anyone here’s anywhere near expendable, it’s me. And let’s face it, my ass has probably seen more action than either of yours.” He faced the silent, looming Ulvik. “You’ve always been giving me the twice-over. Kels loses, I’m yours to do with as you please for a night.”

  Ulvik stared down his long, hooked nose at the three of them and sniffed. Finally, just when Sayal thought she would scream from the tension, he said, “An attractive offer. Most attractive. But I’m not interested.”

  “Not interested?” Kels shook his head. “How can you not be interested? You’ve had your buggy eyes on Elion since we landed on this cracking station, and her… I mean, look at her; she’s gorgeous. Who wouldn’t want to…you know.”

  The tall human stuck the rag in the pocket of his filthy denims. “Sex”—he wiped his nose with the back of his hand—“it don’t do nothin’ for me. Fifteen years on Darvexen, mood enhancer.”

  Sayal took in his somber expression and reflected that either the drug hadn’t worked or, if it had, she wondered how dredged his mood had been before.

  “I’m off it now, on to something else. Any case, left me limp.”

  Then where’d his daughter come from? Sayal stopped herself from turning and staring at the girl at the front desk.

  Ulvik reached a long finger to touch Elion’s cheek. “It were his white skin what interested me. Rare to see such purity now. Hardly a blemish.” He took the first mate’s chin between his fingers and turned his head from side to side as if examining a melon. “Yeah. I had a new batch of dark-lights I was fixing. Would’ve looked striking with your pale complexion, mate. Black threads and purple stars. Quite nice, really.”

  “Well,” Elion said, appearing to be holding his breath until the man’s fingers dropped. “You could still do that. I’m up for it if all it takes is getting some tats.”

  “Nah,” Ulvik said. “Proved too toxic. I haven’t worked out the digs yet. Attracted some unwelcome attention from the family of the last customer who tried it.” He put his fists on his bony hips. “What else have you got?”

  Sayal knew they had nothing—nothing that Ulvik would want at least. She glanced back at Treena. “That camo, is that new?”

  Ulvik nodded.

  “Dangerous?”

  “Dunno yet. Could be. Treena’s handlin’ it all right.”

  “Try it on me,” she said, stepping closer. A strange, deep-salt-sea odor hung about him. “I’ll be your test body.”

  He huffed low in his chest, and what that meant, she wasn’t sure, except she thought interest sparked in his bland expression. “Let me see your arms. Got any tats now?”

  “None,” she said, rolling up her sleeves, showing him her unmarked skin. His big, knotty hands examined her flesh.

  “It’s irreversible, you know,” he said, drawing a monocle from his shirt pocket and plugging it against one eye to peer at her more closely. He dug into her skin with his thumbnail. Sayal refused to flinch. “The chances for toxicity are much higher than with ordinary biolume. I inked it on several albino narrow eels before I did Treena. She was the only one not to pitch.”

  The idea that he would take such a risk with his own daughter chilled her. Nevertheless, she raised her chin and said, “I’m willing to try.”

  “Now hold on,” Kels cut in sharply. “Sayal, are you missing the point there’s a good chance this could kill you? Did you not hear him say that?”

  “I agree with Kels,” Elion said, stepping protectively closer despite the ill will she knew he bore her. She was quite touched, the two men guarding her as they did. They were good men, for such scoundrels.

  Elion said, “We don’t want to lose our only passenger. Name something else, Ulvik.”

  He tucked his monocle away. “It’s all academic in any case,” he said. “I’m still not interested in risking the Nova for a chance to ink her. If I lose, you get your ship. If I win, you get a gamespartner with some very expensive and exotic tats, and you’ll win again.”

  Sayal touched his arm lightly and risked a slight psychic push. “Ulvik. What if I let you ink me first? No conditions, no risk on your part. You need more test subjects, or you won’t be able to market your art. Make me beautiful, like your daughter, and I’ll be your living advertisement every high game I’m in. Richers from across the galaxy will want your work on their bodies.”

  “High games, eh?” Ulvik touched her face with the dry pads of his fingers, as if testing the spring of her skin. “Mm… You’re already beautiful. Camo tats would only be a distraction. No one wants to see a disappearing girl in the arena.”

  “Something else, then,” she said, grasping his arm as he turned to leave. “Anything. Surely there must be some design you’ve always wanted to try, some special ink.”

  “Well…” Despite his proclamation that he couldn’t feel desire, his lips twitched and his eyes simmered with an unsettling excitement. “There is one. It’s real painful, though, exquisitely painful. There’s a new blend I’ve conjured myself, made from the lume of a very rare crustacean found only in the ice oceans of Orpheus 9. It’s pure gold. I’m the only inkman toyin’ with it, ‘cause the application sends the canvas into anaphylactic shock or worse. Perhaps one out of every hundred survives, but those that do”—he narrowed his watery eyes—“are fucking breathtakin’. I’ve a design in mind that would be striking with your Old Earth India palette. I’ve been makin’ adjustments. Should be safe enough.”

  “I’ll do it,” she said over the objections of Kels and Elion.

  “Before the jarouk?” Ulvik asked.

  “Yes.”

  A shuffling, whistly laugh coughed from the old man, and he dragged the backs of his fishy fingers over her cheek. She could hardly keep from pulling away. “All right. When?”

  “Never,” Kels said.

  “Now,” Sayal insisted. She looked at Kels’s drawn face. “You must trust me. I have a high threshold of pain, and you yourself said that Ulvik was the best inkman in the SenVerse.”

  Ulvik raised an eyebrow.

  Elion said, “We go with her, to watch and make sure there’s no monkeyshines, Ulvik.”

  His defense warmed her, as did Kels’s clenched jaw. The captain wrapped his hand around her arm. “Whatever’s waiting for you in the Zone, I hope it’ll be worth all this.”

  “It will,” she said. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Treena wasn’t giggling any longer but looking rather worried. Still, she put her hand over Kels’s. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Ulvik moved toward the black door through which he’d appeared. “All right, but I won’t have time for the card game till tonight, round nine-hour.”

  “And what if she dies?” Kels asked, still gripping her arm.

  One hand on the black door, the inkman said, “Well, that’s the risk, now, ain’t it? Don’t do this ‘less you’re sure. I don’t back out of my promises, and neither should you. Suppose it all depends on how bad you want your ship, Cap’n.”

  Seeing Sayal stripped from the waist up should have given Kels a raging hard-on, but instead his gut ran cold, and he still wanted to talk her out of this. If Ulvik weren’t such an inkmaster and there weren’t so much in play, Kels would’ve dragged her out of there, kicking and howling if necessary. But now he sat hunched on a stool in the corner of Ulvik’s studio, wringing the shirt she’d handed hi
m. Not more than two meters away, she lay on the single table occupying the middle of the room and turned her head to smile at him bravely.

  Elion dragged a stool next to his and dropped onto it. “You’re certain about this?”

  “Of course I’m not, but you heard what she said, high threshold of pain and all. Besides, Ulvik knows what he’s doing.”

  The old man shuffled through a refrigeration unit on the opposite side of the small room. The walls of his studio were unrelenting black, a hyperbolic contrast to the cheery pinks and creams of the reception area. The gleaming silver table, complete with steel bands to hold wrists and ankles, lay at the center in a pool of glaring light. No other light entered the space, for there were no windows, and the door had sealed shut with a gust that made Kels suspect the room was sterile, the air filtered for biotoxins and bacteria. The stark cleanliness of the place cooled some of his doubts.

  Ulvik pulled a red bodysuit over his denims and shirt and hooded his head. He fastened it so only his ugly face showed, and he drew gloves over his hands. From the refrigeration unit, he withdrew a vial that glowed pure radiant gold.

  Sayal lay with her arms over her chest, shielding her breasts. She said, “I don’t know how you want me. On my back? Is it necessary I remove all my clothing?”

  Her voice was steady. She was a brave one; Kels had to give her that.

  Ulvik put a filter mask over the lower half of his face. “On your belly, my beauty.”

  She obeyed, and Ulvik clapped her wrists and ankles into the restrainers.

  “Is that necessary?” Kels asked.

  “Likely will be,” the inkman replied, his voice muffled by the mask.

  Swallowing drily, Kels said, “Couldn’t you do this same thing on me? I mean, she’s just a girl, and I hardly know her. She might get this tat, then take off, leaving us both high and dry.”