by K S Augustin
Moon met his gaze squarely. “And if you do, Savic, the Republic will know exactly what to do with you, and how best to notify your next of kin.”
It was half bluster, but Hen Savic seemed to accept some kernel of truth in her words. His hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically by his side, as if aching to place them around her neck and start squeezing, but he made no move towards her.
“We’ll see, Dr. Thadin. The fight isn’t over yet.”
He stalked out of the room in a fury and it was only after the faint sounds of his heavy thumping footsteps receded that Moon allowed herself to collapse against the wall. Her hands were shaking and perspiration dotted her upper lip. Unconsciously, she licked at it, tasting its heated saltiness. She wasn’t used to being this confrontational with other people. Fighting intellectually for a funding proposal was one thing, but standing toe to toe with a person and throwing insults at him was not something she normally did. Or ever envisaged herself doing. She looked over at Srin, but he still seemed to be eating quite contentedly. She concluded that, despite the venom she and Savic had flung at each other, they had kept their voices sufficiently low for him to be ignorant of what they were saying.
She took a couple of deep breaths through her mouth, letting them out slowly. The current situation was bad enough without Savic blundering in and making empty threats. She tucked some errant strands of hair behind her ear and tried to smile. What he failed to realise was that he was as trapped as the rest of them aboard the Differential. Under such circumstances, there was very little he could do. If anything.
Chapter Fifteen
Later, she could only blame preoccupation with her thoughts for what happened. She had meant her brief evening stroll to take her to the observation deck, then back to her quarters. It was a small but well-known circuit, but somewhere along the way, she took a wrong turn. Thinking that all the major passageways on the Differential would eventually meet up, she continued walking but got hopelessly muddled. Her steps slowed. She didn’t know the ship was so large, she realised with dismay. Large and monotonous.
A couple of soldiers walked past, not sparing her more than a brief, puzzled look, and Moon was too apprehensive to ask for help. She didn’t like soldiers. She had experienced enough of their rough treatment in the detention centres to feel comfortable among them. They were large, brutish thugs, and for every Drue Jeen there were a hundred or more of them. All during her time on the Differential, she avoided them as much as possible, sticking mostly to the safety of her lab and cabin. She had only been comfortable approaching them when she was preoccupied with other emotions and thoughts, wrapped up in something powerful enough to distract her normal wariness. But, as she cleared a corner and looked down yet another interminably long corridor, she knew she was running out of options. If she wanted to find the way back to her quarters, she would have to put her nervousness to one side and ask for assistance.
The matter was taken out of her hands in an unfortunate fashion.
She didn’t hear him approach, and jumped at the voice that was suddenly at her shoulder.
“You’re the doctor with the missile, aren’t you?”
Moon spun around. The man was dressed as a soldier—which, in retrospect, was a stupid thing to notice. She, Srin and Savic were the only ones aboard who weren’t part of the military. She could only blame the stress of the work and her otherwise murderous thoughts for the fact that her brain seemed to stop working.
He wasn’t as large as many of the other soldiers, only of medium height and a slightly stocky build, but the air of menace around him was intimidating. His features were regular, his hair and eyes dark, and his neck thick and bull-like.
“Y-yes.” She tried to make her voice stronger, show that she was not afraid, although she was deathly so. She took a step back and the heels of her feet hit the corridor’s wall.
“There’s a rumour going around. I picked it up from some friends in Engineering, when they were talking to the big dark guy. They say your little experiment failed.”
“This one did,” Moon agreed. She tried to keep her voice even, even as she felt a shiver of apprehension at the mention of Savic somewhere in the equation. She tried not to think about their argument the day before. “The…the next one should be better.”
“They also say there was a chance of a supernova explosion.”
Where had he heard that? Moon thought that information was classified. Had Savic let something slip to the Engineering technicians? Accidentally? Deliberately? Something must have shown in her face, because his eyes widened before narrowing into vicious slits.
“So it’s true? A civilian in charge of the ship.” His tone was vicious. “You could have blown us into atoms, you stupid bitch.”
Moon didn’t think this was a good time to add that, if that had happened, she would have been blown to bits as well.
“Who the hell are you to make such orders?” he continued. “Some little fucking civilian upstart—”
Moon was too stunned to even see her life flash before her eyes. She didn’t know whether the man was just going to continue a verbal tirade, or whether he was going to get physically violent. She didn’t want to stay and find out, but she was rooted to the spot, too frozen to move. She had handled Savic despite his size because it was more of an intellectual battle—and she had a large dose of righteousness on her side. Staring into the flat, dark eyes of the soldier in front of her, Moon knew there was no way to reason with him, and she couldn’t think of any strategy to defuse the situation. In rising panic, she realised she didn’t even know where the alarm panels were on the ship, or even if the Differential had any in the first place.
She felt stupid, small and shivery as she awaited the first inevitable blow.
“Dr. Thadin. I believe you’re wanted in the lab.”
The calm voice cut through the tension like a scalpel. Diverted, the unidentified soldier turned to face the newcomer, somewhere farther along the curve of corridor.
“And who the fuck are you?” he demanded. He paused, taking in the features of the interloper. “You’re the Turk, aren’t you?” There was a wealth of disdain in his voice.
“I’ll answer to that name,” Srin replied, unoffended, as he cleared the curve and walked into Moon’s sight. Her shoulders sagged in relief.
“Well this has got nothing to do with you, Turk. So fuck off.”
“Considering that I’m the doctor’s assistant, and you were discussing her work, I think this has plenty to do with me.” He stepped forward, but still stood a couple of metres away from the soldier. “And I would love to discuss this with you further but, as I said, the doctor is needed in her lab.”
“At this time of night?” the soldier scoffed.
A small smile played on Srin’s lips. “Some of us have to work for a living.”
It was on the tip of Moon’s tongue to yell out, to warn Srin, to point out the danger in the man’s eyes. But all she could do was stand mutely by and watch as the soldier pivoted, stepped and readied his body for a fight.
Then something miraculous happened. Her eyes were obviously not relaying what was actually happening, because they told her that Srin executed a neat side-step and punched the soldier low and hard somewhere on his body. Where exactly, Moon couldn’t say—her viewing angle was bad. Wherever it was, it hurt. In all the classic vids, this was where the hero stepped back and watched as the villain collapsed on the ground, but Srin didn’t let up. He grabbed the wheezing figure with both fists and slammed him against the far wall. Even with the sound-dampening material that covered everything, she heard the dull thud of flesh against covered metal.
Srin moved his right hand so his forearm was against the man’s throat. His left hand still clutched the material of his collar.
“Not everything goes away,” he said through gritted teeth, flexing his arm. The soldier gurgled. “I remember strong emotions. And I remember who caused them. You come near the doctor again, and I’ll make su
re you don’t forget, either.”
The soldier spluttered, his face turning red, as he patted ineffectually at the restraining arms. Then he was free and sliding to the floor, his hands clutching his throat in a reflection of Srin’s moves.
Without a flicker of emotion on his face, Srin turned and held his hand out to Moon.
“May I escort you to the lab, Doctor?”
It was like an electronic switch, and the change between Srin-the-fighter and Srin-the-gentleman was startling. With a shaking hand, Moon reached out for him and he led her away from the soldiers’ quarters, not even giving his collapsed opponent a second look.
“How did you find me?” Moon finally asked when they reached a familiar part of the ship, just past Engineering. She must have walked almost the entire length of the ship without knowing!
“Isn’t it obvious?” He slanted her a smile. “I was following you.”
She stopped suddenly. “Following—but why?”
His smile widened, but there was a hint of doubt in his eyes. It made him look vulnerable, and Moon’s breath caught in her throat. “I thought that was obvious, too. Because I wanted to spend some time with you.”
This was Day-One Srin, still finding his way but steady in his appreciation of her. In anyone else, Moon might have found the words more than a little uncomfortable—shades of stalking. But from Srin, it was funny, wry and touching. She finally felt her body start to relax.
“Thank you.” And she meant it. She refused to entertain notions of what might have transpired if Srin hadn’t happened along when he did.
“Come on. I’ve got something that will make you feel better.”
They headed towards the lab but took a detour before they reached it, and entered a cabin. His cabin.
“You need a drink after a scare like that.”
Moon opened her mouth, then shut it again. He was right. She needed something to help calm her down, for so many reasons—the work, the soldier, the cabin, Srin himself. She sank onto the edge of a mattress, clasping her hands in front of her like an obedient child, trying not to remember what happened during those five stolen days together, in another bed so similar to this one.
He moved to the shelf that ran the length of the cabin and poured orange liquid from a clear glass decanter into two small glasses. She hadn’t noticed the decanter before, hadn’t noticed much else in the room besides the bed. Then again, she thought with a flush, her mind was on other things. He offered one of the glasses to her.
“Delfin whisky. Don’t let the colour put you off.”
Moon took an appreciative sip. She didn’t have many social vices, but she had to admit that she missed alcohol during her detention years. Except for what was allowed by their guards—which was restricted to what gave them pleasure—vices were forbidden.
The silence lengthened between them, grew deafening. Moon scrabbled around for something to say.
“These are your quarters,” she said, making a show of looking around.
His eyes watched her, their lightness warm and embracing, not masking anything of what he felt. I want to make love to you. I want to feel your flesh next to mine. I want you. “Yes,” he replied.
She couldn’t control the electric flutter in her stomach at the word—and what lay behind it. She took a larger sip of her drink.
Vices. Whisky. Day-One Srin.
Day-One Srin didn’t have the same reservations as Day-Two Srin. Despite her efforts, she could never break through the wall of Day-Two Srin. If Savic hadn’t been in an accident, gifting her with extra days, Srin’s innate sense of honour—of not inflicting his wounded self on Moon—would have held him steadfast. But the same could not be said of his earlier, more ignorant, self. Day-One Srin was always full of appreciation and will, not yet bound by more constrained arguments. In lieu of a completely healed Srin, what else could she do?
She downed the rest of the drink in one gulp and got to her feet. Taking a breath, she undressed, kicking off her shoes first and following them with her tunic. Srin got his voice back when she was just about to pull down her trousers.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice strangled.
A smile of triumph flashed across her face. So, she had managed to get through that legendary calm of his. It was winning a battle she had already won, but it still felt good.
She said nothing, continuing to remove her clothing until she stood naked in front of him. She felt vulnerable, but was determined not to back down.
“I need something else to make me feel better,” she said. “Care to help?”
In a normal universe, Moon would never have acted like this. But that was a universe where men didn’t lose their memories every two days, where scientists weren’t constantly under suspicion of terrorism and where two people could reasonably expect a stable environment to explore their mutual attraction. Where she was, was no such universe. If she wanted release, if she wanted to find some degree of pleasure in a distinctly unpleasurable place, then Moon was going to have to get up and grab it herself. Which was exactly what she was trying to do.
If only Srin would cooperate.
His hesitation made something inside her flinch—surely he wanted this, too? But then he finished his drink in one shot, put the empty glass back on the shelf and tugged impatiently at his own clothes.
Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, Moon lay down on his bed, propping herself on her side like a model from an ancient painting, watching him as he uncovered his body.
He wasn’t overly muscled, but he was tough and strong, lean flowing lines outlining his muscles. Moon knew she would never tire of seeing his body in all its flexed glory. If he had a pale skin, the nature of the work Savic had him do—the shuttling from one closed scientific laboratory to another, the exposure to nothing more than artificial light sources—would have made him white and ghostlike. But Srin’s natural skin colour was shades darker and still carried a caramel tinge. It shadowed magnificently, forming lines of milk chocolate where one group of muscles ended and another began.
He turned the cabin lights down to low and came to her, sliding up against her body in one smooth stroke, his thick penis bobbing against the sensitive skin of her stomach.
“I shouldn’t do this,” he whispered, tilting her on her back and cupping her face with one warm hand. “But I can’t help myself.” He lowered his head and kissed her.
Moon felt his lips against her mouth but it was like his entire body was kissing her, every centimetre of him pressing against hers, conveying its desire. One leg kicked over hers, parting her thighs, so she could feel his flesh against her groin. She couldn’t believe the lust that surged through her at the feel of his nakedness against hers.
As his tongue explored her mouth, her hands moved over him, brushing his back and following the contours of his physique. Her fingers dug into him. The intensity of her grip must have been painful, but he didn’t draw back.
After a thorough and bruising kiss, he moved down to her breasts. She was forced to cradle his head as he suckled, sucking hard and flicking her erect nipples with his tongue. Her body arched and her eyes closed as she slid her fingers through his smooth hair.
“So good,” she murmured, moving her head from one side to another. “You feel so good.”
He moved with such speed from one breast to the other that it made her gasp. The hot wetness of his mouth teased the other erect nub, making her arch again. She opened her legs and he moved wholly between them, taking advantage of her reaction to slide both arms beneath her. Using his forearms as a cushion, her back now raised a little off the bed, he took his time, kissing and licking at her skin. At each point of focus, she moaned. He kissed her sternum, licked at the curve of flesh beneath each breast, then moved down to her stomach, nibbling at the edge of her ribs, where her skin was taut and sensitive.
What a lie. Every single centimetre of her skin was sensitive to his touch. Her shuddering was proof of that.
&nb
sp; Down to her abdomen. He licked the flesh with broad strokes of his tongue, tensing it to a point at a spot just above her groin, then relaxing as he moved upwards again. He was giving her a taste of what he intended to do farther down, and the thought drove her crazy. Her fingers dug into his scalp, shamelessly pushing him towards her thighs, silently begging for release. It had been too long. She craved the mindlessness that came from a sexual climax.
Srin obliged.
He slid his arms out from under her back and repositioned them between her legs, under her backside so her pelvis was elevated and open to him.
“You smell intoxicating,” he told her quietly. And, before the glimmer of a response could form in her mind, he feasted on her.
Moon didn’t know if the wetness was his or her own—or his warm saliva mixing with her juices. After a moment, it ceased to matter. He licked at her with broad strokes, then narrow pointed ones and her clitoris engorged until it was one slick, quivering nub. She knew she was erect because she felt herself hard and sensitive against his lips as he mouthed her, pulling at her with tightly drawn lips, then releasing her. He followed up with those lascivious strokes down to her sex, drawing up more moisture, more musk, so she could smell herself on the still air in the semi-darkness.
What did she want? Release or penetration? Both. She wanted both, frantically, desperately. She tried pulling Srin back up towards her face—the thought of licking herself off his cheeks and lips was electrifying—but he wouldn’t oblige. His tongue became more insistent. He moved one arm away and pried open her outer lips with his fingers, falling on her swollenness.
And she was lost. It seemed like mere seconds before the first curls of orgasm coiled in her belly. She pushed herself against him insistently, unwilling to let the build-up fail or slip away. Then it hit her. Moon convulsed in his grip, her fingernails digging into his scalp as she cried out to the ceiling, a short, shocked scream signalling her climax.
Again, he moved swiftly. He kept up the pressure until more waves rocked her body, then quickly covered her length with his, unerringly finding her wet and slippery cleft, and entering her. Moon tightened her muscles against him, an instinctual reflex, as he began his own rhythm, pushing into her with small, muted groans. The sound of Srin’s voice, the lack of control in someone who insisted on it, aroused Moon and she wrapped her legs around him, pushing against each one of his strokes with a thrust of her pelvis. She wrapped her hands around his muscled neck, now taut and sleek with perspiration, and kissed him passionately.
