Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Hunger's Harmattan

by Unknown

  Ailyn nodded. “It’s good to know I won’t be penniless.”

  Shanee snorted and when Ailyn shot her a warning look, she told the captain she would be showing Ailyn to their quarters.

  Bartlett’s face turned hard. “No, Colonel, you will not,” the captain of the Midian stated. “I do not allow unmarried people to cohabit on my ship. I firmly believe…”

  “The lieutenant and I were duly married before gods and man on Theristes, Captain,” Shanee interrupted. “It is our legal right to bunk together and we intend to do just that. If you have a problem, you may take it up with General Strom.”

  There was a relieved sigh from the captain. It was obvious he didn’t want to tangle with the Amazeen. “Well, all right. I am pleased to know something so wonderful came from your trip out here.”

  “Will there be anything else?” Shanee snapped, and when the captain shook his head, she asked when the Midian would be lifting off.

  “We had a slight problem with our main thrusters so we’ll most likely be here a few hours longer,” was the reply.

  “Good,” Shanee said. “There are some things I need to do before we leave.” She indicated the elevator at the rear of the bridge. “Let’s get settled in, ehemann.”

  “Oh by the way, Lieutenant,” the captain called out. “We’ve stored in plenty of tenerse and Sustenance for you and there is a containment cell if you need it during the trip.”

  “He won’t,” Shanee said, and urged him to walk.

  Ailyn looked at her but said nothing. He had noticed the change in the tone of her voice. It wasn’t soft or feminine as he was accustomed to hearing it and now held a slight disdain and haughtiness that caught his full attention. As they took the elevator up to her quarters on Level Four he even noticed her shoulders and back were now ramrod straight, making her appear untouchable. He was surprised at the size of his wife’s quarters as they entered. He looked around him and whistled.

  “Not bad, little Amazeen. I was expecting nothing more than a bunk and a table.”

  “I am the Primary Riezell Guardian,” she said with her chin lifted. “The military caters to me.”

  A slow, sensual grin spread over the Reaper’s full lips. “Is that so?”

  “Aye, it is so,” she stated imperially at his lifted brow. “Don’t give me that look, Harmattan.”

  He moved closer to her and slid his arms around her waist. “I understand the appearance you must present outside these walls, ionúin, but inside them, remember who the husband is and who is the wife.”

  She gave him a stiff look. “What are you saying?”

  “I am saying that outside these walls I will be a dutiful husband and respect you for the position you hold. I will never undermine that position nor will I question it. But when we are alone, you are not the Primary Riezell Guardian and I am not the target you were sent to retrieve. I am your husband, your mate.” He pulled her close and lowered his lips to her neck, whispering against her flesh. “I am your lover.”

  Chills wiggled down Shanee’s side and her knees felt weak as his lips trailed over her skin. Her hands were pressed between them and beneath her palm she could feel his stalwart heart beating calmly and steady.

  “I can be a bitch,” she warned him.

  “I imagine you can,” he replied, and moved his lips to her ear where he caught the soft lobe between his teeth.

  “I can be arrogant and…” She stopped as he thrust his tongue into her ear and she shuddered beneath his gentle assault. “Ailyn, don’t.”

  “Why not?” he whispered. “It is my legal right to seduce you and I intend to do just that.”

  She pushed him back, surprised when he allowed her to do so. She put up a hand and shook her finger at him. “Behave, ehemann. There will be time for that but right now there are things I must do before we leave Theristes.”

  He shrugged as though it didn’t matter. “All right.” He looked about him. “Where is the vid-com?”

  A bit disappointed that he had given in so quickly, Shanee frowned. “Over there.”

  Ailyn glanced at the screen to which she was pointing and grunted. “Things have changed since I was last on a starship.” His eyebrows drew together. “Where is the keyboard?”

  “A keyboard is not required,” she said. “Vid-com on!”

  The screen went from black to a pearly gray and a woman’s face appeared. “How may I help you, Colonel?”

  Shanee indicated her mate. “This is my husband Lieutenant Harmattan. He wishes to…” She turned and looked at him. “What is it you wish to do?”

  Ailyn thrust his hands into the pockets of his black leather trousers. “I would like to catch up on what’s been happening since I was away.”

  His wife nodded curtly. “Good idea. Vid-com, access historical data from twenty-one years earlier so the lieutenant can view them. Provide whatever assistance he needs.”

  “Understood, Colonel,” the vid-com replied.

  “On standby then,” Shanee said, and the figure on the screen froze.

  “Cybot?” he inquired, staring at the screen.

  “Class 8 construct,” she answered. “Have a seat at the desk and when you’re ready, just tell her what you want to see.”

  He nodded. “Okay.” When she started for the door he asked when she’d return.

  “When I have accomplished what I need to do,” she said, and then softened the answer with a smile.

  After she was gone, Ailyn went over to the desk and leaned against it, his arms now folded over his chest. “Vid-com?” he said in an authoritative voice.

  The woman on the screen smiled and she became animated again. “Aye, Lieutenant?”

  “I need to know everything you have on the wreck of the Abroholos and any information on its crew, especially Kiefer and Ailyn Harmattan. When you have pulled that up, see what you can find on Captain Jules Guerrier of the Cierzo.”

  * * * * *

  Shanee made her way down to engineering and demanded the chief engineer’s attention. “Do you have metal sheeting on board?” she asked.

  Chief Norris frowned. “What kind of sheeting are you looking for, Colonel?”

  “What do you have?” she countered.

  “Tin, brass, copper, titanium, bronze, stainless steel,” the chief replied. “What do you want to use it for?”

  “Artwork and crafts,” she said, lifting her chin to dare him to comment.

  “Then I would suggest tin, copper and aluminum, Ma’am,” he responded. He scratched his cheek. “Is this for someone here on Theristes?”

  “Aye,” she snapped.

  “Will he or she be needing some tools for this artwork and crafts?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I just happen to have a set of boxwood tools sitting in storage. One of the yeomen left it behind when she transferred off the Midian. They’re just sitting down there gathering dust.”

  Shanee looked away from the man. “Can you cut the metal into eight by ten and fourteen by sixteen sheets? I will need at least twenty of each metal.”

  “Aye, Ma’am, I can. That’s gonna be pretty heavy to tote but…”

  “I’ve got that handled,” Shanee told him. “Just get that cut ASAP. I want it done before liftoff.”

  “Aye, aye, Colonel,” he agreed.

  Her next stop was at requisitioning and she was annoyed that there were two people ahead of her in line. She barged past them. “I am in a hurry,” she stated.

  The two people who had been waiting stepped back, fearful of incurring the wrath of a Riezell Guardian and an Amazeen at that.

  “Aye, aye, Colonel,” the storekeeper responded quickly. “How may I help you?”

  “I want to see your ’bot forms,” Shanee stated.

  * * * * *

  When the Midian took to the skies, the cybot Shanee had purchased, programmed and sent down to Theristes via the transporter, was making its way along the streambed toward the little thatched hut where Jules Guerrier sat in perfe
ct amazement. He knew a ’bot when he saw it and as the LRC soared past overhead, he figured he knew from where this had come.

  “Greetings, Jules,” the ’bot said as it came striding forward, its arms loaded with metal sheets upon which sat a small wooden box. “Compliments of Ailyn and Shanee.” The ’bot stopped and looked around. “Where may I place these, Jules?”

  Getting slowly to his feet, Jules pointed to the hut.

  “Very good,” the ’bot said in a jovial voice. It disappeared into the hut then came out again and over to Jules. It held out its hand. “Hello. You may give me the name of your choice.”

  Unable to make his scarred vocal cords work, all he could do was think the name but apparently that was all the ’bot needed for it plucked his thoughts from the ether.

  “Michelle it is,” the ’bot said. It tilted its head to one side. “I like that name, Jules.”

  He watched the ’bot sit down right next to the spot where he’d been sitting and working on a tin punch of Shanee’s beautiful face.

  The ’bot patted the place beside it. “Come sit with me, Jules. I would like to see what you are working on.”

  Though it had been many years since he’d seen a ’bot, he knew this one had to be top of the line. The artificial skin covering its arms and legs looked real and the sparkle in its blue eyes and the luster of its blonde hair was so lifelike, it was hard to imagine it wasn’t genuine. Even down to the bright red fingernail and toenail polish, the ’bot looked like a real woman—a real, beautiful woman with pearly white teeth, high cheekbones tinted with rouge, ruby red lips, shapely legs and breasts that made his mouth water.

  All he could do was shake his head.

  The ’bot frowned. “You aren’t pleased with me, Jules? I am anatomically correct you know and I was made for you.”

  Jules’ dark eyes widened. He made a strangled sound in his throat.

  “I find you desirable and I am yours,” Michelle whispered as she laid her soft, gentle hand on his thigh.

  * * * * *

  Ailyn studied his wife as she came into their quarters. He knew perfectly well where she’d gone and what she had planned to do before she had left him earlier. Reading minds came in handy when someone was acting secretively. He would allow her to tell him what she’d done if she wanted to but if she did not, he would bide his time.

  “I programmed her to play chess and backgammon and a thousand or so other games,” Shanee said as she began unbuttoning her tunic.

  “He likes chess,” her husband commented. “I wasn’t much of a challenge for him.”

  “I programmed her with as many jokes as the data bank had but I’ll check on Riezell when we get back to see if there are other jokes.” She peeled off her tunic and laid it aside. “He needs to laugh.”

  “That he does,” Ailyn said, his voice thick with emotion. He watched her sit on the settee to pull off her boots.

  “I had them put a vid-com link in so he could access information like you wanted to know and he can listen to music or view movies if he’s of the mind to do so,” she said as she stood up. She unhooked the button on her trousers then stepped out of them. “The ’bot can tell him how to use her.”

  Ailyn grinned. “You don’t think he’ll know how to use her?” he asked. He wagged his brows when she looked over at him.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Harmattan,” she sniffed.

  “Well, it’s like riding a horse. Once done, never forgotten,” he replied.

  She stilled and stared at him. “You know how to ride a horse?”

  “Of course,” he answered.

  Her eyes brightened. “I have a stallion I keep at the stables near Tramond on Riezell. We’ll get you one too!”

  “I’d like that,” he told her.

  As was her habit, she wore nothing between her flesh and uniform and she came over to him where he sat at the desk and threw her leg over his thighs, straddling him. “Now, what shall we do?”

  He circled her in his arms and laced his fingers together behind her. His amber eyes were filled with an emotion she was having difficulty reading until he thanked her.

  “For what?”

  “For making Jules’ life more bearable for him. He’s been a good friend and I was worried that he’d have no one to talk to or with whom to interact until we returned to Theristes to visit.”

  She leaned her forehead against his. “My heart ached for him. I wanted to help him.”

  “You programmed the ’bot to accept him as he is and that is the greatest gift that man has ever received. He will bless you ’til the day he is no more and if there is an afterlife, he will continue to bless you there. You’ve given him something he will treasure.”

  “As I treasure the portrait he made for us.”

  With her in his arms, Ailyn got up from the chair and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked with her into the bedchamber where the lights were turned down low. He took her to the bed. Shanee let her legs slide from his hips. Her hands went to the buttons of his black silk shirt.

  “Where’s your tie?” she asked as she made her way down the buttons.

  “On your desk along with the gods-be-damned belt,” he said.

  She glanced down at his bare toes. “You can’t run around on the ship with a breechclout, you know,” she warned him.

  “I don’t see why not,” he replied as she pushed his shirt over his shoulders.

  “Female crewmen are why not,” she stated. “Lest you want to be raped every time you venture from these quarters.”

  “You have too much faith in my seductive abilities, ionúin,” he said with a snort.

  “No breechclout,” she ordered. “You need to accustom yourself to wearing clothes, you pervert.”

  He sighed heavily. “I suppose so.” Her fingers were on the closure of his trousers and as she undid his fly, he looked down at the top of her glossy white hair. As she peeled the garment down his legs—squatting as she tugged—he put his hands in those luxurious albescent tresses. “I love your hair,” he whispered.

  She was hunkered on the floor at his feet as he stepped out of his trousers. She tossed the black leather pants aside and put her hands up to his semierect shaft and heavy balls.

  “And I love these,” she said, taking him into her mouth.

  Ailyn drew in a short breath and felt his body tremble beneath her soft, warm and wet attention. Her tongue was laving his hardening flesh as her palm cupped him to massage his sac, her lips flexing around him.

  “No, baby,” he said, his voice gruff. He reached down and tugged at her shoulders until she released him, giving him a petulant look as he lifted her to her feet.

  “Ailyn…” she protested.

  “In you,” he said. “I want my cock to be in you.”

  And he got his way.

  Captain Bartlett rang to ask the newlyweds to join him for the evening meal in the ship’s VIP dining hall. “It will just be the five of us,” he said. “Our healer and my 2-I-C will be joining us.”

  Shanee had wanted to decline but Ailyn told her it would be discourteous to do so. He didn’t want to go either and said as much.

  “Then why are we going?” she grumbled.

  “To make nice,” he said as he watched her slipping back into her uniform. He was already dressed in his with the simple wave of his hand but she had refused to allow him to dress her in that way.

  “I’d get spoiled,” she told him.

  Ailyn shrugged. “I like spoiling you but I understand.”

  When the elevator arrived on Deck Four, there was a man already in the cage. He nodded but did not speak, moving back as Ailyn escorted his lady in. With their backs to him, the couple stared at the mat finish on the titanium doors. It was Shanee who moved first, turning to push Ailyn away before spinning around to confront the man whose hand gripped an obsidian dagger.

  Ailyn hit the opposite wall of the elevator cage with his right shoulder and bounced off it, falling back to land on hi
s ass on the floor. The force of his collision with the wall had sent a numbing pain all the way down to his fingers. Grabbing his hurt arm with his other hand, he stared up at his lady as she struggled with the man who was striving to stab his blade downward toward Shanee. Before Ailyn could get to his feet, the elevator came to a halt, settled and the door opened, spilling the Amazeen and her protagonist out into the corridor. He gasped as he saw his wife falling backward with the man atop her. Scrambling to his feet, he reached out to grab the man’s shoulders to pull him off Shanee. With a growl, he spun the man away from his wife.

  “Cocksucking scum!” Shanee snarled as she was jerked up by her husband’s pull on the assailant. She used every ounce of her strength to twist the man’s wrist until the blade he’d intended to use was imbedded to the hilt in his own heart.

  The man looked down with disbelief at the dagger buried in him then lifted his eyes to Shanee. “You bitch,” he whispered. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  Breathing heavily, the Riezell Guardian rolled off the dead man and sprang to her feet. Her husband was staring at her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded and bent over to pull off the man’s left boot, her jaw clenched. Peeling away his sock as well, she looked at the bottom of his bare foot where a mark on his sole identified him for her.

  “A Storian Primary,” she said, dropping his leg. “I thought as much.”

  “I heard they wore the Assassin’s Mark on the left side of their neck,” Ailyn said.

  “Aye, they used to, but now they hide it so they appear no different than you or I,” she said. “They’ve been doing it for a while now. We’ve known about it since your stepfather was attacked a few years ago.”

  At the mention of Vice-Counselor Jost, Ailyn frowned. “That bastard could have killed you, Shanee,” he said.

  “Not a chance. I felt him the moment we got on the elevator and I know you did too. He’s one of O’Shay’s hirelings no doubt,” she stated. “That’s the second time they’ve tried to do me in.”