Pleasure Dome

by L. F. Hampton

  Gabe dropped his voice into his diplomatic reasoning mode. “It wasn't these men, Gelli, now or back in 1251. Do you hear me, de'Marco?” He watched Gellico's face for signs of returning reasoning. None came. Her eyes remained wild, savage in their intent.

  She hesitated with her laser still on her shoulder and Gabe felt the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. She shook her head from side to side as if weary. “This Hydra isn't the same nightmare that I left, is it?” Her voice sounded lost, her eyes black pits of pain.

  "No, Gelli, it isn't even Hydra anymore. It's called Asylum.” Gabe used his voice to calm her. “Did you see the farms with their crops? And all the buildings?” He hurried on, “This isn't the same place or the same people. Do you understand, Gelli?"

  She rubbed her chin against her rifle stock but didn't lower the weapon. “Everything in the place is turned around. I thought I would never forget it."

  "It's time to put the past away, Gelli. You need to rest. You never have to remember Hydra again.” Gabe wanted to wrap this up quickly. He noted that Gelli had blood dripping from the arm holding her rifle. “Gellico, does your arm hurt? Wouldn't you like medical attention? They fixed my head.” He tried grinning at her.

  "Nothing will fix your head, Commander, but—” Her rifle swung in Thresher's direction.

  "He's not one of them, Gelli. Thresher's not, and none of the men here are the ones who held you captive. Do you understand?"

  She snorted, “Of course, I do. But do you understand that Sol is going to be mad at both of us.” She laughed and her hold on her laser loosened. Gabe tried to signal Asher to leave off his advance, but the Major stepped up close behind Gelli.

  "Gellico, listen to me. It is all right now. Put down your weapon before this escalates and someone is killed. There will be no peace, no treaty this way.” His reasoning was soft and calm, but he came no closer and made no move to take her weapon away. Gabe held his breath. Perhaps Ash could reach her when he couldn't.

  "Honey, I'd rather you weren't hurt again. I want to take care of your arm. Doesn't it hurt?” Asher persisted, even touched her shoulder lightly with his fingers. “Let me take care of you, Gellico. I won't hurt you. I promise on my life that no one will hurt you ever again. Okay, sweetheart? Just lower your weapon.” His fingers tightened on her shoulder. When she made no move to comply, Asher's voice hardened with command. “Put down your weapon, soldier. That's an order."

  Gellico slowly lowered the laser as if it had suddenly had become too heavy. Its barrel rested near the floor. “You're not my superior, Major,” she snarled at him over her shoulder. Her voice echoed in a weak parody of her normal sharpness. The sight of Asher's gray eyes with their amused wrinkles obviously annoyed her further. She frowned just before her rifle slipped from her fingers. Her knees buckled.

  Asher folded her neatly into his arms and nodded to Gabe. He held Gellico tenderly but glared at Thresher's men at arms who hid their smiles at the way her long body draped in his short stature.

  Gabriel wisely didn't comment other than to say, “I believe my aide has the situation under control, gentlemen.” Gabe turned, let out a held breath and caught Thresher's eye. “I hope you can understand Ms. de Marco's apprehension. She was one of Hydra's captives back in 1251."

  "Good god, man, why would you ever bring her back here?” Thresher's dark eyes were incredulous. He ran a shaky hand over his scalp.

  "She insisted that I needed her help, and at the time, I let other opinions influence me.’ Gabe paused and took a deep breath, then blew it out. “Now I'm not so sure it was a good idea."

  "Definitely not.” Thresher glared at him. “Just think how it would have looked if we had shot her."

  Gabe snorted at the thought. “Yeah, almost as bad as you taking the Guild's diplomatic commander captive.” Gabriel showed his teeth in his best feral grin before he added. “Someone really doesn't want this treaty to happen, do they?” Not waiting for an answer, Gabe continued to speculate. “Just where did the Guild battle cruiser and mercenaries come from?"

  The name Thresher freely gave caused a chill to run up Gabe's spine. He had expected someone in the Guild, but not someone so highly connected. And not someone who had connections with Chakkra.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gabe paced his quarters and waited for word on the renegade cruiser. True to his commander, Asher reluctantly left Gellico's bedside to lead the chase. It was only a matter of time before they closed in on the heavier mystery ship. She might have more firepower, but the Treaty was no slouch. And she was a much faster vessel with a commanding officer more devious than the average warship commander.

  A sharp knock rapped his door. “We have the ex-Guild cruiser, Tristin, in communication range, Commander."

  "On my way.” Gabriel felt a quirk to his lips. So it was a decommissioned Guild ship that had attacked them. He'd had his suspicions for a long time. The traitor's time was up. Retribution was at hand.

  * * * *

  All heads at the conference table turned in his direction when Gabriel entered the ready room. In the days after the Tristin's capture, the Guild's ruling ship, Battlestar One, had arrived for a Guild meeting on-board the Treaty. They again orbited above Asylum, the prison world formerly known as Hydra. Gabe was hit by a gauntlet of emotions from the seated members. Confusion and speculation vied for dominance among the heads of state. Calm acceptance came from Marcus Thresher. If there was more treachery among the Guild members they hid it too well for Gabe to find. This was the first meeting in a long time that he had actually looked forward to holding.

  "Madam Governor,” Gabe nodded a proper greeting to the acting governor of the Guild. He started at her faint smile. Suddenly, the stern-faced woman, with her broad cheekbones and her square face, looked more familiar to Gabe. But he didn't take time to ponder who the Guild's governor reminded him of. Over the years, countless confrontations with the stubborn woman had left Gabe frustrated more than once. But he had learned that the acting governor ruled the Guild board with sharp intellect and sharper wits than most of the other members. Even the times he disagreed with her, the governor had turned out to be correct in her ruling.

  "Proceed, Commander.” She nodded toward him. Even her evenly modulated voice sounded more familiar. Again, he couldn't quite put his finger on who she reminded him, and his head pained him if he thought on it too long.

  The other members at the table were looking at Gabe expectantly. He began on a deep breath. “Thank you all for coming on this momentous occasion. Today, we end a tragedy and begin a world renewed with purpose. Past sins are forgiven, deadly indiscretions forgotten, past wounds healed with this new colony."

  Gabe motioned for Marcus Thresher to step forward and introduced him. “Mr. Marcus Thresher, ambassador for this world, will present his case for colonization of Asylum, formerly known as the prison world, Hydra. Marcus—"

  Gabe sat down, and a newly attired Thresher stepped up in his place. Freshly groomed, with his silver-laced dark hair trimmed and dressed in a sharply pressed suit, Thresher appeared a different man. His first words floored Gabriel.

  "First of all, let me properly introduce myself. True, I am Marcus Thresher, representative for Asylum, but I'm first and foremost an operative for the Spacing Guild. I was sent here undercover years ago by the acting governor."

  Several Guild members gasped and looked at each other. Gabe felt their questions. Why didn't they know of this? Had the governor overstepped herself this time?

  Gabriel focused on the Guild's governor. The woman didn't even blink. Her gaze softened as she stared at Thresher, and Gabe was reminded of what Marcus had told him—that he was familiar with empaths. Could it be?

  As if she had heard his unspoken question, the woman suddenly winked at Gabe. He was getting a sneaking suspicion. Gabe sat straighter and focused on Marcus's words.

  "I was sent to Hydra on a vital mission with the last of the prisoners to
be incarcerated here. Since then, I, along with others of like minds, have weeded out the unsalvageable criminals, set up a working form of government, and established law enforcement necessary for all to live semi-normal lives—such as they can here."

  He paused and looked each member in the eye before he continued, “Asylum is still not a perfect world and never will be. But then there are no perfect worlds in existence, gentlemen and lady. We take our perfection where we find it."

  Marcus nodded to the governor and she inclined her head for him to continue. “But a colony can survive here with the Guild's help. All my findings are in the reports you have in front of you. Asylum is ripe with fertile farming ground. Many fruits and vegetables grow here with only a minimum of care. Our people hope you will consider Asylum's application for colonization."

  Thresher nodded to the governor whose cheekbones bloomed with color under his intense gaze. An idiot could see that the two shared a history, and Gabriel was curious to know more about them.

  "We will adjourn soon to consider Mr. Thresher's findings, and we heartily thank him for his long and dangerous service,” The governor said, her words ringing with authority. “While we ponder that problem, we have our next business to consider. Treachery has been afoot in the Guild. There has been a traitor working in our midst.” She turned to the Marines who stood guard and ordered, “Bring in the prisoner."

  Gabe gasped along with the rest when the guards ushered in their charge. He caught the waves of hatred that surged off the man as the guards forced him to sit facing the group.

  "What do you have to say for your actions, Deputy Assistant Dushaw?” Before Dushaw could speak, the governor added, “For those of you who haven't heard the rumors, Mr.—"

  She now ignored Dushaw's official rank and stressed the lesser title. A quick glance around the room assured Gabriel that no one had failed to grasp the significance of the slight. Dushaw had already been judged and was on his way out. “—Mr. Dushaw took it upon himself to hire Chakkra mercenaries to capture Commander Merriweather and sabotage the Diplomatic Corps's orders to establish peaceful contact with Hydra."

  The governor placed her hands on the table and leaned over the cringing, gray-haired Dushaw. “Why?” Her voice demanded a reply.

  "Because—” The man hesitated, then suddenly found misplaced courage and sprang from the chair, only to have the Marines pin his arms. Spittle flew from his mouth and his eyes rolled. “Why? Because you are a vicious bitch, that's why. I've taken orders from you for years, and I'm tired of you and your sanctimonious Diplomatic Corps. You're all soft-hearted fools.” Dushaw drew himself up and puffed out his thick chest. “The Guild could rule the galaxy. We could be magnificent if given to proper leaders.” He sneered at the governor. “We need a male to run the Guild."

  The governor lifted one elegant brow. “Oh? Perhaps a male such as yourself?” The governor's scorn was a palpable scent to Gabe. His lips twitched. Dushaw was a stupid, braying ass that didn't know to keep his ignorant thoughts to himself. If Gabe could read him so well, the governor was getting a mindful. Her golden eyes glittered. “How did you get the mercenaries you hired?"

  "I paid them with my own credits,” he fired back, then shook his head and muttered in disgust, “But right when success was at hand, the cowardly bastards turned tail and ran from the battle. They kept screaming about some prince and how they had damned their families. Idiots! We could have won except for them!"

  The governor actually laughed. Gabe heard real mirth in the sound, but his thoughts were focused on Dushaw's revelation. He had heard Chakkra language in the Treaty's corridors. He had fought his kinsmen again—and killed some of them. They must have picked up their dead and wounded when they fled. Perhaps they thought he wouldn't find out who they were. Like he would ever fulfill the threat he had left behind on Chakkra.

  The governor's derisive snort jerked Gabe away from his thoughts, and he heard her say, “I doubt that, Mr. Dushaw. Your battle was over before it even started. The Guild has been watching you for quite awhile. It was only a matter of time before you slipped, but we never expected you to go so far. You crazy fool, you thought to discredit me?” Her words echoed strongly in the shielded room.

  "Take him away.” She ordered the Marines who grabbed the wilted Dushaw under the arms and jerked him to his feet.

  He struggled against their grip, and no one spoke while Dushaw was taken, kicking and screaming, from the room.

  "Now, there is one more piece of Guild business remaining,” the governor announced. “Commander Merriweather, please come forward."

  As Gabriel rose and walked toward her, he frowned and wondered what the governor had on her mind. He stopped in front of her. She had to look up since she wasn't as tall as he, but Gabriel had never been so ill at ease under her intense scrutiny. And he had been under that hard gaze more than once.

  A corner of the governor's mouth twitched, and again Gabe wondered at the faint familiarity of the gesture. Then it hit him. She reminded him of Sol. Indeed, the resemblance was so strong that she had to be Sol's sister! The breeder whose records were so heavily sealed. How had he not seen the resemblance sooner? Even her voice held the same sexual resonance as Sol's when lowered in sincerity. With a jerk, he realized she was still speaking, a wicked twinkle in her gaze.

  "In addition to enforcement, it is also the Guild's duty to recognize her officers when they have gone above and beyond. Commander Merriweather, for your many years of dedication and service, you are hereby awarded the Medal of Peace and the Cross of Valor."

  With lips still twitching, the governor placed both ribbons with their heavy golden circles of commendations over Gabe's head. When she kissed him on the cheek, she whispered in his ear, “Welcome to our family, Prince of Chakkra."

  Gabe stared at her, stunned, and she winked at him again. Then the damned woman stepped back as if there had been no breech of protocol. The wicked gleam in her golden eyes shouted her identity as much as her stubborn jaw line: Soledad Scott's sibling. There was no doubt that he had guessed correctly. By the gods, what had he gotten himself into?

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Seventeen

  After another long, dream-filled, sweaty night, Sol's lower back ached, and her temples pounded. When the hell was Gabe getting back? Sol refused to believe anything had gone wrong with his mission. But feeling both angry and annoyed with Gabe, she wept worried tears because she loved him so.

  Weak, weak, weak woman. Sol chided herself, remembering all the times she had captained galactic war ships.

  Lost in memory of her glory days, she was taken totally by surprise when Cheri burst through the door. The little dancer nearly skipped as she announced, “They're back. They're baaack. The Treaty is landing right this minute.” Cheri clapped her hands and danced delightedly on her toes.

  "Sonofabitch!” Sol gasped and folded over at the waist.

  Cheri frowned and held onto Sol's arm. “Aren't you happy, mistress?"

  "Yeah. I'm ecstatic. My water just broke.

  * * * *

  The moment Gabe stepped into the birthing room, Sol waved her hand that showed his ring encircling her finger at him so he knew she had accepted him as her lifetime companion. He fell to his knees next to her bed. He couldn't speak; he could only grab her hand and press his lips to its back.

  "I take this to mean that you still love and want me.” Sol chuckled, and he mutely nodded, fighting to see her lovely face through the irritating haze that filled his vision. “Well, say something.” She demanded.

  "I love you, my captain.” He finally croaked.

  "Oh, commander, we're going to have some great times."

  "Promises, promises.” He lost his grin when she arched off the bed and called him an ass. The doctor shooed him off with the assurances that she didn't mean it. She was just in labor.

  Many hours later, Marco Scott Merriweather made his appearance amid cheers, shouts and cries, but no one was happier than
Gabe. His baby's dark curls were exclaimed over, his long fingers unfolded and counted along with his perfect toes. Yep, he had all the right equipment, too. Gabe had checked that, just to be sure. And Sol, upon discovering him unwrapping Marco to check his plumbing, had called him an ass again. But this time she was smiling wearily before she drifted off to sleep.

  Now Gabe lay next to them, watching over them as they slept. He still couldn't believe it. He had a family. Marco, a tiny warm bundle, was encircled in one arm while Gabe's other rested above Sol bright head. He gently stroked her cheek. He was beginning to understand the great depth of his parents’ love for one another. He understood their love for him. Just as he knew Marco felt and knew their love for him.

  The baby stirred, and Gabe was struck by the love he felt pouring from his son. Tentatively, he stroked a finger down Marco's cheek and was awestruck when his son responded by snuggling his face into Gabe's palm. He was so tiny, so dependent on Gabe for protection. Then and there, Gabe vowed that no one and nothing would ever harm his child or—he looked down at Sol—his mate. If he had to work for the rest of his years, he would make the universe a better place for them, a safer place than the one he had grown up in. Oh, he'd have help. Gellico, Marco's godmother, would be a pain in the ass, Gabe knew, but he recalled how her dark eyes had filled with awe. And Asher was a complete idiot, promising in baby talk that he was going to train Marco for the big, bad Marines. Gabe snorted and quickly whispered, “Sorry,” to Sol who stared up at him with a one-eyed blink.

  "You know you're on feeding duty next time he wakes up, don't you?” She frowned.

  "Nope,” Gabe shook his head. “I don't have the right equipment."

  "Then you better not wake him up for at least another two hours."

  "Yes, ma'am.” Gabe tried to sound contrite.

  Sol hum'mphed and turned over. He heard her soft “I love you, Gabe."