Flights of Fancy 3
As Darkness Falls
Placed together as part of the Daedalus crew as they make first contact with a people deeply divided by civil war, Lieutenant Commander Rabine Salas and Lieutenant Cliff Rochester soon find they can't keep their hands off of each other.
Crosley, the leader of the Ling rebels, and his wife Leilend have been together for many years as both lovers and coconspirators fighting for freedom and equality for their people.
When the conflicting and puzzling stories presented to Rabine and Cliff by the planet's Security Chief Logan force them to make direct contact with the Ling, they find that Crosley and Leilend have stimulating powers of the mind. The intimate contact with the Ling couple makes sparks of passion and love fly, but the Daedalus crew soon learns that the Ling harbor a dark secret.
Can the blossoming love between the four overcome the horrors of the past?
Genre: Futuristic, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Science Fiction
Length: 46,195 words
AS DARKNESS FALLS
Flights of Fancy 3
Melodee Aaron
MENAGE AND MORE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage and More
AS DARKNESS FALLS
Copyright © 2013 by Melodee Aaron
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-262-3
First E-book Publication: February 2013
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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FOREWORD
The Flights of Fancy series is set in what I call The Immortal Love Universe. This universe spans the entire universe and some twelve billion years, starting in 1940 AD. You’ll sometimes hear it called The Ike Payne Universe.
Even though set in the same universe as For the Love of Payne, Desert Heat, and The Polyamorous Princess, the stories of Flights of Fancy are not a part of those tales. There are some common characters readers will recognize, but they are mostly in minor roles consistent with the shared setting. The tales of Flights of Fancy also take place many years after the stories mentioned above. While you don’t need to read the other stories to enjoy Flights of Fancy, readers will find additional information about the universe in those earlier tales that will add to their enjoyment.
Instead, Flights of Fancy deals with an entirely new group of people aboard the scientific and diplomatic starship HMSS Daedalus on a voyage of discovery in the far-flung reaches of the galaxy. On this mission, the crew encounters many strange and wonderful people and civilizations. When people come together, no matter the place and time, their tempers, passions, lust, and love often flourish.
This third story in the series follows the crew of Daedalus as they encounter a planet filled with human-like aliens and vampire-like creatures that may be the basis for at least one legendary creature from Earth’s past.
Join me now as we explore the future, or at least one possible future.
Keep Loving!
Melodee Aaron
November 2012
AS DARKNESS FALLS
Flights of Fancy 3
MELODEE AARON
Copyright © 2013
Chapter 1:
The Day Begins
Despite having served in the Fleet for forty years, Rabine still hated transport ships. They looked big enough from the outside, and they were actually some of the largest ships in space, but their huge volume was all function and no form. HMSS John Henry was twenty kilometers long and the entire five hundred cubic kilometers of her bulk was for storage and transport of equipment. That left no room for creature comforts for the crew and passengers. In fact, she often thought the crew was there mostly as backup to the automatic systems and the transport ships could fly themselves. Add in the fact that the designers never intended for the big ships to ferry passengers, and the trip always turned into an exercise in boredom and claustrophobia.
But Rabine was still excited about the trip. In just more than nineteen hours, John Henry would rendezvous with HMSS Daedalus to drop off supplies and leave her behind as the new Senior Science Officer. Daedalus had racked up a series of highly successful missions in the last year making first contact with undiscovered civilizations, and it seemed every officer in the Fleet knew a transfer to Captain Davis’s command was an excellent career move.
Or if things went badly, such a transfer could end a career. Rabine knew full well that Captain Elsa Davis had the ear of Lord Admiral Q, the Supreme Commander of His Majesty’s Troops in the Empire, and she also had an excellent relationship with the Emperor himself. Both men had personally selected Davis to command Daedalus, bypassing officers with more seniority and experience. If a crewman did something to piss off Davis, she had the power and influence to transfer them to some icy moon of a gas giant in the armpit of the Empire where no one would ever hear from them again.
While neither Lord Admiral Q nor the Emperor had interviewed Rabine for her new assignment, they had approved the transfer, as had Captain Davis. They all
thought she could do the job, and Rabine knew she could do it better than anyone else in the galaxy.
Now she just had to prove it to them.
* * * *
Cliff had been on Daedalus for a year now, and he still didn’t know just what his job really was. Up until two years ago, he’d been an instructor at the Fleet Academy, teaching classes on the history of ancient cultures and specializing in archaic weapons. Even that position made only moderate sense, but since being called up to serve on Daedalus, he’d done little more than point out that some of the civilizations they’d contacted used swords, knives, and rocks, and that they were no match for the small detail of Marines aboard. It wasn’t rocket science.
So Cliff spent much of his time reading. He loved to read the stories about mythical creatures in Earth’s past—vampires, werewolves, Bigfoot, the yeti, and others from all over the world. He spent some time standing watches in the Intelligence Office, a waste of time in his opinion, and working out in the gym. He also admitted to himself that he spent a good deal of time hitting on the girls at the ship’s nightclub.
Cliff discovered soon after Daedalus left Sol System that he liked to box, and he was good at it. Jack O’Connell, the Marine Lieutenant who coached the small boxing league on the ship, told Cliff that he had a natural instinct for the sport and some of the fastest hands he’d ever seen in the ring. Add a mighty right hook built from lifting weights, and Cliff was at sixteen wins, eleven by knockouts, and no losses in his boxing career.
It always amazed Cliff how slowly the break between rounds passed while he waited for the bell to sound, and today was no different. As he sat on the stool in his corner, the trainers rubbing his muscles and giving him a short inspirational speech, Cliff thought of many things. The biggest thought he had today was that this might be his first loss in the ring.
His opponent was a small man, much smaller than Cliff’s one hundred and ninety-three centimeters and eighty kilograms, and he had only barely made it at the weigh-in for the heavyweight class. But the man was fast, much faster than most heavyweight fighters, and so far Cliff hadn’t landed a single clean punch. The challenger had, however, made several good connections, and Cliff wasn’t ashamed to admit that a couple had rattled his eyeteeth.
He’d been totally on the defensive when the bell rang to end round five, and Cliff knew he had to do something in the soon-to-start sixth round. The bout was only for seven rounds and Cliff figured he was losing badly on points at this time. But points were only part of the story—his opponent was still a big man, and one good blow to his head could send Cliff spiraling to the mat like an out of control shuttle craft.
One of the trainers, a Marine named Meyers, leaned in close and whispered in Cliff’s ear. “Lieutenant, he drops his left shoulder before he throws that hay-maker.”
Cliff played back his constant retreat from the last round in his head, and he saw that the PFC was right—every time the boxer would punch with his right hand, his left shoulder would drop. It didn’t drop much, maybe a centimeter, but it dropped. Cliff smiled.
The bell rang to start round six, and Cliff danced to the center of the ring, elated by his possible way to save the day. His opponent seemed to have other plans, though, and charged from his corner like a bull intent on impaling an unwary matador. Cliff used his footwork and sidestepped, but the man turned and planted his feet, ready to slug things out in the millennia-old tradition of heavyweight boxers.
Cliff threw three rapid jabs, all of which glanced off the gloves of his adversary, and took a solid blow to the left side of his head. He tried to convince himself that he took the punch deliberately so he could watch the fighter standing toe-to-toe with him for the telltale shoulder motion, but Cliff didn’t believe that any more than his trainers would have. But the fact was that he saw the left shoulder of his opponent drop just a little. The motion in the man’s shoulder also caused his left fist to turn slightly, and Cliff saw an opening.
With little flashes of light still bouncing around in his vision from the punch, Cliff danced to his left, and his foe saw what he thought was a chance to end the match. Cliff faked a jab, and then pulled his left fist in close, covering his head and torso. He saw the man’s left shoulder drop, and Cliff struck out with his right hand, putting all of his strength behind the blow.
Cliff’s fist hit his opponent’s left glove, and because the man’s shoulder drop twisted his hand slightly, his adversary’s protective fist deflected downward, allowing Cliff’s big hand to connect to his foe’s chin. There was the familiar chain of sounds from the blow—a loud slap of the leather glove meeting the skin of his adversary’s face followed by the surprisingly soft whoosh of the air trapped in the padding of the glove escaping through the holes of the laces, and finally the sharp click of the man’s teeth biting on the mouth guard. His foe’s eyes snapped open wide for a moment as his arms fell limp to his sides, and then his eyes slowly crossed as he staggered back a couple of steps. The smaller man dropped to his knees and then fell face-first onto the mat.
The referee rushed forward, pushing Cliff away from the fallen boxer. “Get to a neutral corner.” The umpire counted slowly, waving his hand so the downed fighter could see his fingers. The fighter made one move to regain his feet, but his arms were so shaky that Cliff guessed his opponent thought better and stayed on the canvas until the referee reached ten. “You’re out!”
* * * *
As Leilend watched, the twinkling lights of the others completing the change to corporeal form slowly faded. She casually wondered how many of the Hargons saw the group as they landed since they needed surprise for the mission she and her mate had planned.
Crosley walked up beside her and whispered softly in her ear. “We are all here now, and I think we were not seen.”
His hot breath on her neck sent chills through her, just as it always did, and Leilend forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand, pushing the thoughts of the passion she felt for her man from her mind. Only the seriousness of the situation stopped her from grabbing him and pulling Crosley to the ground with her.
She smiled instead. “I agree, my love.”
His hand cupped her ass in the way she’d become familiar with over their years of marriage, and he squeezed gently. “Good. Let’s get moving.”
Leilend managed to keep herself under control as the group moved forward toward the fence surrounding the Hargon supply base. Two of the others clipped a neat hole in the fence, and the task force swarmed through as they watched for Hargon security personnel.
Moving across the open area between the fence and buildings was the most dangerous part of the mission, but Leilend knew she and her comrades were all but invisible to the Hargons because of the darkness. At the same time, the ability of her kind to see the heat radiated by the bodies of the security people made the few guards they saw at a distance stand out like beacons in the night.
After reaching the building housing the Hargon ships and weapons, Crosley easily defeated the locks on the door. Leilend stifled a chuckle as she watched him ease the door open. The Hargons always trusted their guards and fences too much.
Crosley shifted the bag of explosives from his back as he turned to face her. “Guard us well. We’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her lips, just a tender touch like the flutter of a feather against her skin. He and two of the others slipped inside the building, leaving her and the rest of the team to stand watch.
* * * *
The idea stopped bothering Chris about six months ago, but it still puzzled him. He’d been in the Fleet for fifty years, and he’d reached the rank of Commander. He was the Executive Officer on HMSS Daedalus, the Emperor’s pet project to go out and find new peoples and civilizations. He was second-in-command of perhaps the most scrutinized ship of the Empire. He had respect, power, and a good paycheck to go with it. And yet here he was standing another midnight watch on the bridge.
He understood that Captain Davis wanted one of the two of t
hem on the bridge as much as possible, and since she was the skipper, that left the odd hours to him. Chris needed to find a way to convince Elsa that some of the Lieutenant Commanders could take these watches.
But he couldn’t palm off this particular watch. Either he or Elsa had to be on the bridge tonight because John Henry was rendezvousing with them to drop off supplies and the new Science Officer. He’d read the service file on Lieutenant Commander Rabine Salas and even made a personal recommendation to Captain Davis to accept the woman as part of the Daedalus crew.
Salas looked good on paper. She had forty years of active duty, seven doctorate degrees in fields from astrophysics to zoology, and command experience at a research base in the Rigel system. He wondered if she could command a starship.
Despite seeing her picture in the service files, Chris was still a little amazed when Salas walked onto the bridge. Like most people, medications, transplants, bionics, and clean living made Salas look perhaps half of her actual age, but the holographs in the file completely missed that the woman was just plain sultry.
She stood tall, maybe a hundred and seventy-five centimeters or a little more, and she was slender as a whip, not massing more than sixty kilograms. Breasts of a nice size interrupted her slender form—not too big as to be the only thing noticeable or too small to make it easy to mistake her for a man. A narrowing of her waist before sweeping on to full hips made it doubly clear no one would ever think this woman was a man.
As Darkness Falls [Flights of Fancy 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Page 1
