Games of Command

by Linnea Sinclair

  “You worry too much, sweetling,” Serafino answered with a smile.

  Eden turned back to Kel-Paten. “Okay, one hour. With him,” she pointed to Serafino, “on the regen table the whole time.”

  When Kel-Paten didn’t answer, Sass glanced over her shoulder and saw a slight hesitancy in his expression, his brows angled down. Was he considering it or just annoyed at the whole situation?

  “The sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll return,” Serafino quipped, edging for the rampway door.

  “Twenty minutes,” Kel-Paten said to Eden. “I have to review the security sensors with Captain Sebastian. That gives you twenty minutes to work on your patient.” He jerked his chin toward Serafino. “Everything else will wait until we get back. Sebastian?” He looked down at Sass.

  She couldn’t read his expression, so she went with routine: “Kel-Paten.” And paused.

  The slightest of nods. “Your presence at the command console, please.”

  Well, now that was a tone she hadn’t heard in…days. If Timm Kel-Faray suddenly appeared behind the admiral with his usual “By your leave, sir!” she wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

  She returned his nod and followed him to the front of the ship, wondering what in hell was going on now?

  GALAXUS COCKPIT

  Tank watched from his perch on the console as Reilly, nose to the floor, stalked the perimeter of the cockpit. Safe? Safe?

  No smelly light, Reilly told him. With a sigh, the older furzel sat on his haunches and took a moment to wash his left whiskers. Outside not safe. Mommy’s not listening, he said finally.

  I try! Tank pleaded. Mommy says all is safe. All is not safe. I try again. Furzel talk. Human talk. Too different. And JaceFriend is quiet now. And Mommy does not listen to furzel words.

  Tank wrinkled his nose. JaceFriend makes MommyEden sad.

  JaceFriend thinks he hunts Bad Thing. Silly. Bad Thing here. Outside. Waiting. Flows ugly in, ugly out.

  I know. Tank sneezed. Bad smell.

  Time to fix again. Time to Blink. Reilly arched his back, standing.

  Tank help?

  Friend stay with MommySass. Protect.

  O-kay, Tank said, but he was disappointed. He wanted to be the one to hunt Bad Thing. If only he was a big furzel like Reilly and not just a fat fidget.

  Protect is important, Reilly told him from the cockpit hatchway. Part of Bad Thing touches this ship. Still smelly. Needs more Blink. One furzel hunts. One furzel protects.

  Reilly had called him a furzel! Tank preened in satisfaction. O-kay. Tank protects. He narrowed his eyes and peered through the neverwhen as Reilly trotted away. Bad Thing touched this ship. Bigger Bad Thing waits outside but won’t get in. Because Tank the furzel is here, on guard. Tank protects.

  GALAXUS MAIN CABIN

  Jace let the backpack sag slightly off his shoulder as Kel-Paten and Tasha disappeared through the cockpit hatchway. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go into it any more than I already have. I repeat: if and when I have something valid, I’ll tell you and Sebastian. Until then, you’re just going to have to trust me.”

  Eden folded her arms over her chest again and fought the urge to start tapping her foot. Jace was wearing one of the best chastised-little-boy looks she’d ever seen on a grown man. It made her want to forget the real issue here and tug off his clothing. She had to ignore that impulse. “How can I trust you when you’re blocking me, blocking Reilly?”

  “It’s for your own protection.”

  Her protection! Gods’ feathered rumps, how she hated that phrase.

  Something was very wrong about the appearance of this outpost. Something was very wrong with this whole planet. Jace had sensed it when they were still hours out, and she’d picked up on that—immediately. So did Reilly and Tank. Ever since landing on Haven-1, Reilly had wanted to protect her from something bad, but she couldn’t figure out what the threat was. She wasn’t sure Reilly knew, and until she had facts, she didn’t want to bother Tasha—the captain clearly had enough problems. And trying to talk to Kel-Paten about it wasn’t even a consideration. She didn’t think he gave much credence to furzel intuition.

  Jace could help in translating Reilly’s thoughts, but Jace wasn’t talking. He’d shut her and Reilly out of his mind ever since they neared Haven-1—limiting his mind contact with her to basic, required conversation and, of course, his habitual flirtations. She even took a quick nap, hoping he’d draw her into Novalis. He didn’t, even though she could feel him just on the edges of her mind’s shadows. He was there, reading her, watching her. But he refused to come to her, because she’d start asking questions.

  Nor would he tell her why he was so intent on traveling alone with the admiral. That worried her too. Because she knew his sister was always on his mind. Even if she could no longer read it.

  She waved one hand toward the back of the main cabin and the small sick-bay diagnostic panel glowing from the wall. “I’ve fifteen minutes to work on your ribs. Strip off your shirt.” She strode to the panel and then initialized the regen program. The multipurpose table slid from the wall as his footsteps came up behind her.

  She turned.

  “Long as I can keep my pants on,” he said with a grin as he climbed on. “I still have a fear of those rectal thermometers of yours.”

  She tapped at the unit’s screen with more force than necessary. “Don’t tempt me, Captain Serafino. Don’t tempt me.”

  GALAXUS COCKPIT

  Tank sprawled on the command console, his tail and one hind foot obscuring the screen. Protect Mommy! he chirped as Tasha stepped past Kel-Paten. The cockpit door grated closed behind her.

  Food? Tank’s large eyes watched her approach.

  She swiveled the pilot’s chair around and sat, taking a moment to chuck him under the chin. “Sweet baby. I have work to do.” She pushed his foot, encouraging him to relocate. He rolled onto his back and splayed four furry feet in the air, his tail still across the screen. She lifted it and peered at the data. Good. The program was finished. “I had the computer run a level-three diagnostic on the security field, just to be sure we hadn’t overlooked anything,” she told Kel-Paten as the copilot’s chair squeaked. She glanced over. “There’s always—”

  The words she wanted to say died on her lips, because every trace of ’cybe she’d seen in his face and in the set of his shoulders was gone. He was looking at her again. And looking at her with that something that made her stomach flutter, coated her cheeks with a flush of heat, and made her suck in a slow, careful breath. This was a “come hither” look if she’d ever seen one. He leaned forward, reducing the already small distance between them to mere inches. His pale eyes were half hooded, his lips slightly parted. Even under his dark lashes, his gaze heated and probed her. She felt it as if it were a physical thing. Tingles ran down her spine and pooled between her legs.

  Loooove Mommy… Tank purred.

  Yes, there was that too. His logs. His love letters to the woman he thought was Tasha Sebastian. Who wasn’t.

  She could handle “come hither.” Hell, she was actually looking forward to “come hither” if they could ever get around to it. Hot sex was such a great stress-reliever. But love…she couldn’t risk that. Especially not with Branden Kel-Paten. She liked him too much.

  “Tasha, I—”

  “Security perimeter’s functional,” she cut in quickly, damning the unexpected breathiness in her voice.

  “—don’t want to talk about the perimeter. We need…I need to tell you—”

  “About repairs. I’ve worked out a schedule.” Please don’t say you love me! Kiss me, tear my clothes off. But do not tell me you love me. “Want to see it?”

  “Tasha, please. I’ve waited a long time to tell you this.”

  Oh, damn. Here it comes. She needed to do something, fast. Something to keep him from saying what she didn’t want to hear and had no idea how to respond to.

  “And I have only fifteen minutes,” he was saying.

&
nbsp; The solution hit her. Something he would like. Something she could handle. “Good point. Let’s not waste it.” In two heartbeats she closed the short distance between them by grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Her kiss landed a bit off center—she’d surprised him, she realized—but she angled her face, correcting that slight miscalculation. She flicked her tongue over his lips as his hands found her shoulders, pulling her against him.

  She released her hold on his shirt and pushed her fingers through the short thickness of hair at his neck. She nudged his mouth open again and kissed him, her tongue teasing his.

  For a moment he trembled under her touch. Then he grabbed her waist, pulling her awkwardly onto his thighs.

  Subtle he wasn’t, which was good. Neither was she. She disentangled her right leg from his left, let go of him long enough to push both armrests back, and straddled him. When he groaned in her mouth, she deepened her kiss, clutching his shoulders.

  His arms crossed her back, then one hand cupped her rear, squeezing, kneading. She turned her face slightly, her mouth pulling back as she changed the angle of the kiss and the kneading stilled. There was a hesitancy in the way he held her, as if he was unsure she wanted to be touched.

  Silly man. Of course she wanted to be touched. To prove her point, she brushed her lips against his and sucked his lower lip.

  His breath stuttered. He arched against her, his hands tightening on her waist and hip as he pulled her toward him.

  When she kissed him again, his mouth was already opening. His tongue met hers boldly. He stroked her spine, his hand splaying to push her against his chest. She rocked against him, tasting, savoring. The comm panel chimed. Then chimed again.

  He broke their kiss with a barely audible “damn!” and, holding her face against his shoulder with one hand, reached out and slapped at the panel with the other. The chair jiggled. “Kel-Paten.”

  His voice—raspy, deep, and definitely annoyed—rumbled against her body.

  “Ready when you are, Tin Soldier.”

  “Outside at the rampway. Five minutes.” He cut the link with a tap.

  She moved her hands to his shoulders, wanting to straighten, but he held her firmly. “Wait,” he said, his mouth brushing against her ear, his fingers massaging slow circles on her back. “Wait.” He was breathing hard. So was she. Suddenly his breathing stilled, and the next breath was slow and controlled. She did push herself upright this time. His hand slid slowly down her back. His eyes were closed.

  When he opened them, they glowed. He was under full ’cybe power. Because of Serafino, she guessed. But perhaps more so because of whatever waited for them at the outpost.

  Loooove Mommy, Tank cooed. Protect.

  “Well, that was fun while it lasted,” she said lightly. “I’ll activate the security perimeter after you leave.” He let her go but not without some reluctance, gloved hands trailing down her thighs as she slid from his lap.

  He watched as she regained her seat. “Don’t be afraid of me. Ever.”

  The remark wasn’t what she expected. Did he think that was why she’d left his embrace? She gave him a wry smile. “I’m more afraid for you.”

  “I can handle what’s out there.” He folded the armrests down and stood.

  Silence descended, suddenly awkward. The quick repartee she’d always shared with Dag Zanorian or any one of her other occasional lovers after a playful, heavy-petting session was noticeably absent. And that’s all this was, right? Stress relief. Fun while it lasted.

  “Kel-Paten,” she said finally, when he reached the hatchway. “Check in every half hour or risk a demerit.”

  The cockpit door opened at his touch. He glanced through it, then back at her, looking at her in that searching, wanting way. Even the glow in his eyes did nothing to lessen that look’s intensity. He turned without answering her comment, stepped over the hatch tread, then turned back.

  “I love you, Tasha.”

  He held her startled gaze for a long moment, then was gone.

  Damn him.

  IN THE FOREST

  The gnarled trees towering above them seemed ancient, their moss-crusted trunks thick with centuries of age. Roots twisted and turned through dense underbrush. Detritus on either side of the path was more than ankle deep. The trail itself was inexplicably clear.

  Like the appearance of Haven-1 and its almost perfectly matched habitability.

  “I don’t want to stay on this route much longer,” Kel-Paten told Serafino, who was scanning ahead of them, listening for anyone or anything. It was almost as if they were being led to the outpost.

  “We go too far off course and they’ll know we suspect something. Or they’ll tag us as attackers, intruders. Another hour.” Serafino glanced at the datalyzer in his hand. “We’re not even at the halfway mark.”

  They’d been moving at a hard, steady jog for almost an hour already and were due to check in with the Galaxus. Kel-Paten could have easily doubled his speed, but there was no way the Nasyry could keep up. And as much as he loathed admitting it, Serafino’s telepathic skills would be an asset coming in to this situation as blindly as they were. If Serafino was honest about what he sensed.

  Kel-Paten wasn’t sure about the Nasyry’s honesty. But he had no choice. He needed to know what they were getting into up ahead at the outpost.

  He had no idea what had just happened back at the shuttle.

  Not just. It was forty-eight minutes, thirty-two seconds…thirty-three seconds…And the forced, solitary pace of their journey—solitary because, after an initial, perfunctory discussion of tactics, he felt disinclined to make idle chatter with Serafino—left him far too much time to mull over “fun while it lasted.”

  He had been so very sure that this was the time to tell her how he felt. She’d kissed him, no longer stepped away when he touched her arm, and blushed when he engaged in his—admittedly clumsy—flirtations with her.

  So he allocated five minutes to fix the sensor dish. Then he’d get her into the privacy of the cockpit, close the door, and tell her how he’d felt for so many years. And she’d answer that she loved him too. He played that scene over and over in his mind as he marched up the shuttle rampway and finally—with Serafino suitably occupied with Doc Fynn—was able to usher her into the cockpit.

  Then someone rewrote the scene.

  He fully imagined kissing her again. But he imagined their kiss ending with a declaration of love. Not a pronouncement that it was “fun while it lasted.”

  He could almost hear Ralland in his head: After a session like that you’re complaining?

  No. The feel of her on him, the taste of her was incredible. For him. For her it was fun.

  “Hey!”

  Serafino’s shout behind him made him slow down. Deep in thought, he’d outpaced the Nasyry again. Running from my troubles?

  “If you need to rest…” he offered, part of him hoping the man would say, Go on ahead without me, I’ll catch up.

  “I’m not even winded.” Sweat beaded on Serafino’s face. He was panting. “But I don’t have rockets in my pockets like you, Tin Soldier.”

  Kel-Paten stopped, let Serafino close the distance between them, then moved into a hard jog again. Probably would be best to keep Serafino with him. He didn’t trust him at his back.

  The dirt trail took them over the crest of a small hill. The trees thinned but still offered cover and shade. HV-1’s sun was no longer overhead but on their left. Kel-Paten judged it to be early to mid afternoon, but the planet’s day might well be longer.

  The forest grew denser at the base of the hill. He slowed slightly. Time for their second checkin. He pulled out the small comm link, now discreetly clipped on the inside of his shirt. He had a scrambler running on the shuttle’s communications equipment but no way to verify its efficacy, so his report was brief. “Rover One to base.” He relayed time, coordinates, and status in a truncated, prearranged code.

  “Base to Rover One. Copy,” said Tasha’s voice, muffled and soft. �
�Acknowledged. Base out.”

  And that was it for another thirty minutes. No long conversations, nothing for the outpost to intercept. And no way for him to ask her about “fun while it lasted.”

  GALAXUS COCKPIT

  There had to be a way to get the shuttle’s sensors to pick up data on that outpost. Sass swiveled in the pilot’s chair and watched the third test program she’d tweaked into the ship’s computers run through its latest batch of queries. It made absolutely no sense why the handhelds were the only pieces of equipment able to get a fix—and just the basics at that. The powerful sensors on the shuttle could provide so many more answers.

  She stopped swiveling for a moment and, leaning back, peered into the dim main cabin. Eden was still asleep. Sass had ordered the CMO off duty right after Serafino and Kel-Paten left, but Eden had insisted on hooking up a small regen unit to Sass’s shoulder first. Her friend had a bruised look under her eyes from stress, lack of sleep, and—Sass suspected—Serafino. Sass’s slight prodding into what might be the issue was met with an exasperated sigh and a terse “Testosterone.”

  Well, yes, the flamboyant Captain Jace Serafino had never lacked in that area.

  So while Eden slept, Sass monitored the scouting party’s checkins (two so far, right on time) and tweaked the damned sensors, because she didn’t want to think about Kel-Paten’s kisses. Or his parting words.

  I love you, Tasha.

  It was bad enough to read it in his logs. It was worse hearing it in person, because she could no longer pretend it didn’t exist. His speaking those words gave them life, made them real.

  She was cursed and she knew it.

  The test program finished its loop and beeped. She studied the screen. Nothing. All sensors still showed as operating within normal parameters, when she knew damned well they weren’t. They couldn’t be—they’d pick up the outpost if they were.

  Mommy tired? Naptime. Tank, sprawled in the copilot’s chair, rolled over onto his back and presented his belly to be rubbed. Love Mommy. Protect!

  At least, that’s what she thought he said. The rub-my-belly pose was unmistakable. She’d figured that out long before his voice—and often disjointed images—ever appeared in her mind. The images were the easiest to understand. His “verbal” conversations tended to be fraught with miscommunications.