He made another sound of disapproval low in his throat, and she reached under the table and laid her hand on his thigh, strong and rock-hard under fingers. Despite their surroundings, she felt a rush of heat between her legs. Rast wasn’t the only one who wanted this all over with so they could be properly reunited.
The door opened, and Lira was surprised to see an Eridani man enter. He was older than Daos Senn, with streaks of pale lavender in his dark purple hair, the Eridani form of going gray. His expression was pleasant enough as he sat down across from them and folded his hands on the tabletop.
“This is not a debriefing,” he told them. “You’ve probably had enough of that.”
“So what is it?” Rast inquired, tone rough.
The Eridani did not seem put off by Rast’s brusqueness. “A thank-you, I suppose. Without your determination to find out why you had been disgraced, Captain Jannholm, it might have taken us much longer to uncover the dissident factions on our own planet, factions that could have caused a great deal of trouble, should the details of their activities ever be discovered by the galaxy at large. I’m happy to say that Master Senn represented a very small percentage of our population, but that made him no less dangerous. Thanks to you, he and his compatriots are no longer a threat.”
Lira found herself somewhat discomfited by the Eridani’s outright gratitude. The no-nonsense manner of the Consortium operative who had interviewed them somehow seemed easier to handle. “I’m glad we could be of help,” she said, after an awkward pause.
“The Eridani government would like to express its thanks in a more…concrete…manner.” He looked from Lira to Rast and back again, then continued, “Whatever we can offer is probably not enough, but one must start somewhere, I suppose.”
So the Eridanis wanted to give them a reward. That was all well and good, but it wouldn’t get her ship back, or her command. And then, as she sat there beside Rast and felt the reassuring bulk of his presence next to her, she realized she didn’t want it. Her government obviously had no real need of her, so why would she even entertain the notion of going back to the GDF? All right, if the life of service she’d worked toward for so many years was now off the table, what did she really want?
A memory came to her then, of feeling the wonderfully responsive controls of the Mistral under her fingers. Making love to Rast in the little ship’s luxurious bedroom. Sitting in the cockpit with him and watching the distorted light of subspace stream past the viewscreens.
That was what she wanted. That life with him, for as long as it lasted.
She cleared her throat, and hoped she wasn’t being presumptuous in speaking for the both of them. “Well, since the previous owner has no real need of it, we’d really like the Mistral.”
Beside her Rast stirred. She could almost feel the surprise radiating out from him. Had he thought she’d try to ask for her command back? Not that this Eridani would have been in any position to grant such a request…if she’d even wanted such a thing.
“The crime lord’s ship? Interesting.” The man folded his lavender-skinned hands on the tabletop and gazed at Lira for a few seconds, as if trying to determine whether there was anything hidden in such a request. Then just the smallest lift of his shoulders. “As you said, he has no need of it. We’ll make sure that it has a clear title in both your names. But really, that’s a very small request. There’s truly nothing else you want?”
Rast leaned forward, meeting the Eridani’s serene violet gaze with his own fierce copper-hued one. “Our names cleared. Neither one of us has any desire to go forward with our military service, but I want us to both have honorable discharges, clean records. Nothing that can cause trouble in the future.”
She should have thought of that. A slight squeeze of his thigh, just enough to show she recognized the worth of such a request.
The Eridani nodded. “Such things will have to be managed by your respective governments, of course, but I see no reason why they wouldn’t consent to your request, especially since it is true that you both handled yourselves honorably in this matter.”
So they had a ship, and they had their freedom. It was enough. Almost. Lira began, “Those credit vouchers Jackson Wyler gave us…”
“…will of course remain activated for as long as you have need of them. I’m glad to see that you’re thinking of the logistics of your new lives.” The man smiled and asked, “Anything else?”
She glanced at Rast, and he gave the smallest shake of his head. “I think we’re good here. All we want now is to be able to go. Are we free to do so?”
The Eridani paused, and she saw him touch the band of silver metal at his wrist. At first glance one would have thought it merely a bracelet, an elegantly simple form of personal decoration, but she realized now that it was a communication device, and other ears besides his had been listening in on their conversation.
“Yes, quite free,” he said, after a pause. “We’ll provide a shuttle back to Aldis Nova, which is where the crime lord’s ship is being held. Several teams have gone over it and found no further evidence necessary to closing this case, so there’s no reason why you can’t take possession immediately.”
Lord knows what physical evidence those teams had found of hers and Rast’s relationship. Oh, well, she certainly wasn’t going to worry about such trivialities at this point. “Thank you,” she said simply, but she meant it. She hoped the Eridani could hear the gratitude in her voice.
Rast stood and bowed, one arm across his chest in the formal Stacian gesture of respect. “Many thanks.”
The Eridani rose from his seat and inclined his head. “And in return, Captain sen Drenthan.” He smiled at them again and went out.
So that was settled…mostly. Lira turned to Rast, opening her mouth to say something about their next step, restocking the Mistral once they were back in Aldis Nova or some other trivial practicality, but he stopped her with a kiss, his arms going around her as she tasted him, inhaled the wonderfully spicy scent of his skin, and realized this was going to be her life from here on out. Rast, always and forever.
* * *
He wanted to sweep her away immediately, but he hadn’t counted on the intricacies of Gaian bureaucracy. They were taken to separate cabins and told that their paperwork was being processed, and since Rast’s request for an honorable discharge had to be relayed by the Eridanis because the Gaians of course had no formal diplomatic relations with the Stacian Federation, it could take a little while…which to the Gaian Consortium could mean anything from a few days to a few months. Or worse.
Those fears weren’t realized, however, because within one standard day the files had been processed and delivered. Rast suspected the alacrity with which the case was handled had far less to do with his own service and a great deal more with trying to wrap up anything that had to do with Admiral sen Trannick’s disgrace. Apparently he’d been removed from command, his entire family reeling from his dishonor. That was the way of things on Stacia — when one man fell, he took the rest of his relations with him. Not entirely fair, perhaps, but it did have the benefit of being a ruthless way to root out a cancer, since a disease often spread far beyond its initial site of infection.
At any rate, after spending a restless night on the cramped bunk in his borrowed cabin and wishing with all his heart that he was on the Mistral with Lira, he found himself called to take a shuttle with her to Aldis Nova. Once or twice during the night he’d thought about slipping over to see her, but he’d gotten the impression that, although the Gaian authorities were holding their noses and not mentioning the obvious relationship between their former officer and her Stacian adversary, neither did they want it flaunted in front of them.
So he’d slept alone, and dreamed of Lira, and the next morning got up and took care of his toilette, then folded his captain’s uniform away and put on the new clothing that had been provided for him. She met him at the lift that would take them down to the shuttle’s hangar bay, her manner almost shy, as if she
wasn’t quite expecting what his reaction to all these changes would be.
She looked lovely, in a simple tunic and pants in a dark blue-green that complemented her sea-colored eyes, her glorious hair lying loose on her shoulders, just the way he liked it. The shadows were gone from under those eyes, as if she’d gotten a good night’s rest. Better than his, he guessed, but then again, she probably fit much better in one of those Gaian-engineered bunks than he did.
There was no formal send-off; the shuttle pilot — a lieutenant, if Rast recalled his Gaian rank symbols correctly — merely nodded at them and said they were ready to go. Both Rast and Lira had only one small duffle bag apiece. They’d been provided with a few changes of clothing along with other necessities, and their new handhelds contained all the data required to prove their identities, as well as their right to the Mistral.
Since the shuttle was a small one, with no barrier between the pilot and the tiny passenger compartment, neither one of them seemed much inclined to conversation as the ship left the large Consortium vessel and headed to Aldis Nova. But Lira’s hand found its way into his as they sat there, and the feel of her strong but delicate fingers was enough to satisfy him.
For now, anyway.
The sun was setting as they flew into Aldis Nova’s largest ’port, the place where the Mistral was being kept. Conveniently — although it probably wasn’t convenience at all, but maneuvering on the part of the Gaian authorities — the shuttle touched down on the pad right next to the one where the Mistral waited. After landing the transport so gently Rast barely felt it meet the ground, the pilot told them, “She’s all yours. New locks are keyed to both your prints. Have a good one.”
And that was it. In silence he and Lira picked up their duffles and disembarked, then crossed the short distance between the two pads to their ship. She had been cleaned up, it seemed, shining as if she’d been brought here directly from the shipyards. Rast spied the new keypad by the door, and bowed to Lira. “You should go first.”
She shot him a hesitant glance, then smiled and stepped forward, pressing her thumb to the lock. It glowed blue, showing it was on standby, waiting for the second authorization to open the door.
There seemed to be something symbolic about that, about the two of them having to combine their prints to make the ship theirs. He placed his thumb in the same spot where hers had been only a few seconds earlier, and the door opened.
A faint chemical smell drifted out — residue from the thorough inspection the Gaians had given the place, no doubt. He’d have to see about getting some pots of merh to put around the place. Most likely Lira wouldn’t have any objections, since he’d noticed that she appeared to enjoy the scent.
Otherwise, though, the ship didn’t seem much altered, although a few pieces in the main cabin felt a little off, as if they’d been shifted from their original positions and not put back exactly in place. He noticed that Lira wore a small smile, pleased that they were here at last.
Even with that, though, she was no-nonsense enough, dropping her duffle bag on the floor of the cabin and then heading forward, as if she couldn’t wait to get her hands back on the controls. When she reached the door to the cockpit, though, she hesitated, and looked back at Rast.
“Do you — that is, would you like to take her up?”
He loved her for making the request, even though he knew she was the far better pilot. “No, you do it. I find I prefer the copilot’s chair.”
Her face lit up, and she went to take her position. He followed, settling himself in the copilot’s seat, adjusting the harness as she went through the usual preflight checks. The Mistral’s engines thrummed to life, and within a few short minutes they were lifting into the air, Aldis Nova’s shabby streets disappearing beneath them, the last of the sunset painting the landscape in shimmering hues of copper and bronze before he could see no landmarks at all, only the disk of the planet as it grew smaller and smaller behind them.
“Where to now?” Lira asked.
He knew she was asking about their next destination, but he had something much closer in mind. “How quiet is it out here on the edge of the system?”
A puzzled expression flitted across her features. “Quiet enough. Most people going in and out of the Iradian system like to keep a low profile, if you know what I mean.”
“Good,” he said, and took her hand, lifting her from her seat. “Because where I want to take you, I definitely don’t want to be disturbed for the next few hours…”
* * *
This was what she had dreamed of — Rast’s hands on her, his mouth touching her, tongue savoring her, bringing her to ecstasy over and over again. And the feel of his body, the heavy muscles, the rough texture of his wild hair. All of it was a homecoming she’d only imagined, hadn’t really believed would actually come to pass.
Sated at last, body sore in an entirely pleasant way, she lay cradled in his arms, listening to the deep, slow beat of his heart, feeling the warmth of his body envelop her. The Mistral hung just outside the Iradian system, before true wild space began, those empty reaches that had at last been defeated with the development of the subspace drive. They were safe here, until they decided what they wanted to do next.
Still, some part of her couldn’t understand why he had given up everything to be with her. He still had a position, had a family who must care about him. He wasn’t like her, cast out, unwanted.
“Can I ask you something?” she murmured, fingers playing with one of the golden bands wound in his dreadlocked hair.
“Anything.”
Even his voice was a comfort, the low baritone seeming to fill the quiet of the cabin. “Why don’t your people terraform Stacia? After the Eridanis helped you with Syrinara — ”
“Oh, no,” he said at once. “Stacia is our home world, our mother. We would never desecrate her by altering what she is. It’s because of her that we are who we are.” He paused, and looked down at her. “Do you understand?”
“I’m trying to.” Lira was quiet for a moment, considering what he’d just told her. Yes, she’d read that the Stacians had an intense reverence for their planet, one she’d never quite been able to understand, since it seemed that planet had done whatever it could to kill them. Too bad her own people didn’t have that same respect. Gaia had been a much more hospitable world, and they’d brought it to the brink of destruction. Slowly they were fighting their way back, but it was a process that would take lifetimes. “Then…I don’t understand.”
“Understand what, dearest?”
“Us, I suppose.”
He shifted his weight so he was able to face her more directly. The copper eyes studied her. “And what is it about us that you don’t understand?”
Might as well get it out. Yes, they were here together, and that was a miracle in and of itself, considering everything they’d gone through to get to this point. But she knew she needed these last few nagging concerns confronted once and for all. “You had everything. A career, a family — I know how you Stacians are about family. But you’re willing to walk away from all that? For what?”
“For you,” he said. His tone was quiet, but very firm. “They were proud of me, proud of what I’d attained, but still it wasn’t enough. I had no wife, and no clear desire to have one, although that was expected of me even more than my service in the navy. Women — ” He broke off, and let out a short laugh. “I cannot lie to you, Lira, and say there were no women before you. But none of them touched my heart. None of them were trenalle.”
The word was beautiful. “What does trenalle mean?”
His arms tightened around her. “It’s difficult to translate exactly. I suppose the closest I can get in Standard is ‘heart’s heart.’ You are my heart’s heart, Lira. You are trenalle. Beloved.”
Something inside her seemed to break then, hearing him say such a thing to her, telling her that she was what mattered, the connection between them was what mattered, not the expectations of his family or his heritage or his
world. She pressed herself against him and said, “You are my heart’s heart as well, Rast. Before you — well, I just didn’t understand. But somehow you help everything make sense. Even though we don’t make sense.”
He laughed, and bent to kiss her, his lips warm against the side of her head even through her hair. “No, I suppose most of the galaxy wouldn’t be able to make sense of us at all. But I don’t care about that. I don’t care about anything, except being here with you.”
“Neither do I,” she replied, and turned in his embrace so she could pull him against her, pull him into her, not wanting the intricate dance of foreplay, not wanting anything except the feel of him inside her, filling her, making their bodies one, moving together as a single entity, as a single expression of need, of desire.
Of love.
* * *
Eventually they slept, and then some hours after that they got up and squeezed into the shower unit, laughing as they tried for the first time to fit both of them into a space intended for only one normal-sized human. Lira’s hands explored him, stroked him, brought him to a climax as the hot water sprayed over them both. Good gods, he was starting to wonder whether she was insatiable, or simply trying to make up for lost time.
Either way, he was the clear beneficiary here.
But at length they made it to the cockpit and stared out the viewscreen together, gazing on the velvet black backdrop with its billions of tiny winking suns.
“Where to?” she asked, an echo of her question from the previous day.
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