But this woman was no recruit or middy. Nor was she an Ensign fresh from the Academy and innocent. Rabine was a Lieutenant Commander, and that meant she had at least thirty years in the Fleet, and despite his own lack of drive to move up the ranks, that meant she had more time in the service than he did. All of that implied Rabine could see right through him and read him like a book. And she called him on it.
He needed to come up with something to say to her after the dance, but he was way too distracted. The song was a fast number, and she was more than a meter away from him as she moved to the beat, her lithe body swaying and flexing in delightful ways. Her movements transfixed Cliff, and he realized he had no way to tell how old she really was. The medications and treatments used everywhere in the Empire would keep a person looking about the same at three hundred years old as they did at thirty. Rabine could be anyplace between the two extremes. He looked about twenty-five, but Cliff was almost fifty.
The song came to an end, and without a word, Rabine glanced around the club before heading off for an empty table a few rows back from the dance floor. Cliff did the only thing he could do—he followed her.
After he held her chair and she sat down, he took the chair across the table from her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rabine held up her hand.
“Before you tell me why you deserved anything, I want to apologize. That wasn’t fair of me, and I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”
Cliff wondered if she might be trying to throw him even farther off-balance or if it was an actual apology. He decided to take it as an apology. “No apology needed, but I appreciate the gesture. I should apologize to you, though. Let’s just say old habits die slow and painful deaths.”
She smiled, and her dark eyes twinkled. “If that means you’re sorry for trying to seduce me, apology accepted.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”
“I thought so. Why would you even try?”
He laughed, but Cliff knew it had to sound nervous. He’d never known a woman who could read him so easily or one as direct as Rabine. She didn’t fit the same mold as the trail of broken hearts he’d left strewn across the galaxy, and he found it somehow refreshing.
“Well, let’s not delude ourselves, OK? You’re a very beautiful woman.”
“Uh-huh. Would you like to try the truth now?”
He felt like he was on a roller coaster, going down. Rapidly. “So you read minds, too?”
“No, not at all, but your body language tells me you’re nervous and trying to avoid saying something.”
He glanced down at the top of the table where his hands moved around like small wounded animals. Cliff made a determined effort to stop moving them. “How old are you?”
Rabine frowned. “Why does that matter?”
“I once met Empress Marilyn on a detail I worked with to help her figure out something about some extinct big cats from Earth. She needed to know how primitive man might have been able to kill one with rocks and sticks. Anyway, she claimed she couldn’t read minds, but she always knew what everyone was thinking, usually before we knew what we were thinking.”
“The very old can do that. They have so much experience with people they can read the nonverbal cues like the rest of us read words.” She smiled. “And Empress Marilyn is nearly five thousand years old.”
“Really? I knew she was old, but she looks like she’s twenty-five.”
“Stop dodging my question.”
He didn’t want to go where Rabine led him, but his other choice was to walk away. She was beautiful—of that there was no doubt, and the word wasn’t anywhere near strong enough. He’d never met a woman as beautiful as her. But there was more to this gorgeous creature than just beauty. Cliff didn’t know exactly what it was, but she had something that made him want to know her, and not just in the Biblical sense. He had to say something, and it had to make sense. By implication, and based on the fact she could tell when he was not only lying but when he was holding something back, the truth seemed like the best bet.
He swallowed hard, but his mouth had gone dry. He took a small sip of his beer and tried again. “OK, the fact is I didn’t know what to say, so the old habits took over. It never occurred to me how uncomfortable that might make you.”
“Was that so hard?” She rested her hand on top of his. “I’m sixty-six.”
* * * *
Cliff walked beside her as they made their way from the nightclub to her cabin. He insisted on walking her home, and Rabine knew she didn’t protest as strongly as she should have. Over the three hours they spent talking and dancing, she’d changed her opinion of Cliff. He had a good deal of bravado and arrogance, but he also had a softer side he fought to keep hidden. In that way, he was more like Marines she’d known over the years, but Cliff hadn’t killed his tender aspect, only locked it in a closet. But he let it out a little for her.
They neared her cabin, and Rabine didn’t look forward to the coming scene. She knew from experience what would come next. They stopped at the door, and the sensor systems recognized her bio-profile and opened the door with a soft swish.
He turned to face her and took her hand in his. “Thank you for a wonderful and educational evening.”
She smiled. “And now you’re going to try to kiss me.”
“No, I’m not.” He shook his head. “Like I said, I want to get to know you.” Cliff’s eyes sparkled as a playful smile danced across his face. “Disappointed?”
“Surprised, yes. Disappointed, no.”
“Anyway, I’d like to do this again. Maybe you can meet me at the gym tomorrow after your watch.”
He’d told her about his love of boxing, and he had a minor match tomorrow evening. Rabine didn’t like the sport, if you could call it that, but for some reason she wanted to watch him box. She had no idea why.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He smiled, but the playfulness was gone, replaced by something else she couldn’t quite grasp. It looked like something between relief, happiness, and fear.
“That’s great. I’ll see you there.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Good night.”
As she watched him walk down the passageway, Rabine admitted that maybe she was a little disappointed.
* * * *
Elsa glanced through the duty roster for next week, and laughed out loud when she came across Chris’s absentminded doodles in the margins of the pages. He hated standing the midnight watches, and she knew his mind wandered. She really needed to work on getting some of the other mid-grade officers to take the bridge on the off-hour watches.
The Communications Officer spoke from her station. “Captain, I’m picking up low-level radio chatter at the extreme edge of detection. Bearing one-seven-niner mark four by two-eight-six mark zero, range one point one parsecs.”
She looked up from her paperwork. “Thank you. Navigation, any known planets in that direction?”
“Negative, Ma’am.” The crewman worked her console for a moment. “Nothing on that heading out to twenty-five parsecs.”
“Looks like we have another contact to make.” Elsa smiled. “Communications, feed your data to the helm. Helm, come about to the proper heading and make corrections as needed. Take us in at hyperspace factor five.”
The helmsman played the ship like a virtuoso. “Aye, aye, Captain. ETA in twenty-nine hours, forty-one minutes.”
* * * *
Crosley lay awake in bed, Leilend’s head resting gently on his shoulder, but sleep wouldn’t return to him. He’d had one of the dreams of precognition his kind often experienced. Tales passed down over the long millennia of his race’s existence told of how the dreams frequently came true. His dreams this night had differed from those he normally had. Instead of dealing with defeat in battles or how the Hargon plotted to kill him, this dream told him of a strange people, not unlike the Hargon in appearance, but very different in attitudes and compassion. It was the differences of these strangers from the Hargon that would gi
ve his people hope, not only for peace, but also for a normal life.
But there was more to the dream. He somehow knew these people, or at least knew of them. Crosley puzzled over that, but he couldn’t explain what it meant. He also saw in the dream that two of these people would be important, not just to the cause of his people, but to him and Leilend personally. He could no more explain the impression than he could the idea of knowing them already.
Leilend moved a little and then opened her lovely blue eyes. “Did the dreams come to you again?”
He squeezed her shoulders. “Yes, but this one was different.” He told her of the dream.
“I can’t explain it any more than you can, but you should try to rest.”
“I know, but I can’t sleep.”
She nuzzled his neck, her breath pulsing against his skin as she kissed him. “Maybe I can make you relax.”
Leilend slipped her hand down his chest and across his stomach until her fingers brushed teasingly over the head of his cock. Even without the love and desire he felt for her, the action would have still made him hard in an instant. Grasping his dick in her fist, Leilend pumped slowly as she kissed his ear, sending vibrating tremors through his body.
Crosley turned his head to face Leilend, and she pressed her soft lips to his, her tongue darting into his mouth and her hand moving faster on his cock. As she kissed him, the confused and fluttering thoughts of the dreams faded, replaced by the fire of love he felt for her. He often wondered how he could be so strong when leading his people, never faltering or shying away from his duty, and yet take such comfort and pleasure in the arms of Leilend.
She always knew just what he needed. Sometimes, she would be harsh with him, yelling and pushing him to do the things that he knew he needed to do all along. Other times, she would cuddle him to her breasts, holding him close and talking to him softly, helping him to work out the problems of the day. And other times, Leilend would do what she did now, relieving the tension by sexual means. She didn’t care at all about her own physical pleasure but instead took emotional pleasure in helping the one she loved.
But it was a two-way street—he had, and always would, do the same for her when she needed a little extra love and attention.
Crosley’s body tensed, and his cock pulsed as cum exploded from him to run down Leilend’s hand. She pulled her lips from his, nibbling at his lower lip a little.
She smiled at him in the semi-darkness of their bedroom. “Now, rest, my love.”
He drifted off to sleep, and his last thoughts were of how lucky he was to have Leilend in his life.
* * * *
Logan hated dealing with Kartime. While it was true that the old man was technically the Emperor of the Hargon Empire, Kartime’s intelligence rivaled that of a child, so long as the child wasn’t much older than three. Kartime was the offspring of his cousin and his older half-sister, and the centuries of inbreeding had left him and his family at the shallow end of the gene pool. Like any child, the Emperor liked to play at adult games and would throw a tantrum if Logan didn’t spend hours each day explaining to him all the things going on in the Empire.
The real problem was that Kartime was just as likely as not to order the execution of the person he thought was being mean to him. The guards who kept watch over the Emperor were also all from one family, but they had avoided the dangers of incest and so their skills and intelligence were sharp as razors, and they would carry out Kartime’s death warrants with calm, quick efficiency. Logan had no choice other than to deal with his Emperor. Even the Security Chief was subject to murder.
He took a deep breath, calling on a hidden reserve of patience Logan hoped lived someplace inside of him. “Kartime, I don’t know where the rebels are hiding.”
Kartime played with a set of small, pyramidal blocks, trying to balance one atop another on their pointy ends. He looked up at Logan, his lower lip protruding and trembling. “Call me ‘Your Majesty.’”
Logan found a little more patience. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“That’s more better.” The blocks tumbled back to the table.
He waited, watching the idiot mess with the blocks, but no other response came. “Your Majesty, I don’t know where the rebels are hiding.”
“So kill them all.”
“I can’t, Sire. I don’t know where they are.”
“I want them dead!” Kartime threw a block at him, and Logan had to duck to avoid catching it between his eyes. “Find them!”
Logan saw an out to the conversation. “I shall endeavor to exterminate the insurgents in your name, Your Majesty.” Flowery language with big words fascinated the childlike old man.
The Emperor’s eyes twinkled. “Oooooo…”
While the fool was distracted, Logan bowed and left the throne room, carefully keeping his comments about the Emperor’s stupidity to himself as he passed the guards.
* * * *
Elsa waited on hold, staring at the three-dimensional image of the Great Seal of the Empire while the communications people on Boone tracked down Lord Admiral Q. She wondered about the logic of it all, but ships of the Fleet all kept different times, so while it was late afternoon on Daedalus, she had no way of knowing what time it was on Boone. It took almost five minutes before Q came on the communicator. He wore the midnight-black uniform of the Lord Admiral and, in her mind’s eye, she could see him standing at rigid attention, the emblems of a thousand Fleet actions adorning his muscular chest, a snow-white riding crop thrust into the glittering black leather belt holding the tunic tight around his waist, and his face set in a stony expression of honor and duty to the Emperor and Empire.
He didn’t smile, but that wasn’t too unusual. “Good morning, Captain.”
“Good day, Admiral. Just a routine report before we move on to the planet we’ve located.”
“Yes, quite right. I read your preliminary report, and I see your tactical people think there are active spacecraft in the system.”
“Yes, Sir. There are several small bodies in orbit around the planet, and some act like communications satellites.” She shrugged. “Some may be natural objects, but we still can’t tell for certain from here.”
“Understood. With the more massive than average star in the system, you’ll need to get closer. Have your people worked out how close you’ll need to get?”
Elsa had drifted off into a daydream. Q often had that effect on her despite the fact he wasn’t even human. Figuring out exactly what to call him was a matter of splitting hairs. Technically, he was a simulated human with biosynthetic tissues and a positronic computer for a brain. Empress Tanya designed and built Q while still married to Stuart Dayton, and Q served as the current Emperor’s first commanding officer. Q was intelligent, compassionate, loyal, hard-nosed, and considered the best officer ever to wear the uniform of the Lord Admiral. He was also absolutely drop-dead gorgeous.
As she studied the sharp lines and angles of his face, Elsa felt a small, silly smile come to her lips.
Q frowned. “Did I say something funny, Captain?”
She shook herself a little to break the spell. Elsa had plenty of time to fantasize about Q later in her cabin. She had plenty of batteries for her toys. “No, Sir. Sorry. They say we’ll need to be in a standard high orbit before we’ll be totally certain, but we should get some data as we move in.”
He nodded. “Very well. You may proceed at your discretion. Was there anything else?”
“No, Sir. That about wraps it up.”
He nodded again. “Godspeed, Captain Davis.” The communicator faded to black.
She took a moment to compose herself, chasing the phantasms of the daydream from her mind, before she left the Ready Room and walked out onto the bridge. Chris sat in the command chair, and she approached him.
“I relieve you, Commander. Status report.”
Chris vacated the command chair and took his normal position at the Damage Control station as she sat down. “We are at the extreme edge of t
he system, point three light years from the primary. Tactical has identified seventeen satellites that appear active at radio frequencies, and we’ve seen suborbital ships skimming the edge of the planet’s atmosphere. We’re still getting radio chatter, and the electronic translators have given us some preliminary translations. It’s all just routine stuff, and there’s no sign they know we’re here. The linguists are working on the language. To summarize, no threats detected.”
She turned to face the Tactical Officer. “Tactical, do you concur?”
The young woman looked up from her console. “Yes, Ma’am, I concur.”
“Thank you both. Helm, please take Daedalus to the planet at one-tenth-impulse power, and insert us into high standard orbit. Science and Tactical, I want full sensor scans as we approach.”
“One-tenth impulse to high standard orbit, aye.” The helmsman worked her controls. “ETA twenty-one hours, thirteen minutes.”
The new Science Officer—something Salas—typed at her keyboard. “Full scan, maximum range, aye.”
Daedalus eased forward and fell toward the planet.
* * * *
She was late, and she knew from the time she’d told Cliff she would be there to watch his fight that she would be late. His bout started at 1600, and Rabine didn’t go off duty until 1600. She caught herself running and forced herself to stop. She settled for walking fast, her long legs covering the distance at what would be a slow run for most people.
There weren’t that many men on Daedalus, and it looked like all of them were in the gym surrounding the elevated boxing ring set up in the middle of the big room. Rabine saw a few women, most in the fatigue uniform of the Imperial Marines. She also saw a few female Fleet members, mostly enlisted personnel and Ensigns. She didn’t see a single woman above the rank of JG or that looked older than about twenty-four.
Rabine made her way through the crowd, but it was hard work because all the people clustered close to the ring. When she caught sight of the ring itself, she saw Cliff and another man sitting in corners opposite from each other as a few men worked around them, rubbing their shoulders and arms and offering liquid from squirt bottles. She also saw a young woman walking around the ring holding up a big card with the number three printed on it. The woman—not much more than a girl, really—wore an evening gown that had a slit down the front to her navel and up the right side to her waist. Her mountainous boobs oozed over the edges of the material.
As Darkness Falls [Flights of Fancy 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Page 3
