by Candy Nicks
Tan her hide? The words had caused another burst of marker, although she had no idea why. Thank the goddess for the sturdy metal door blocking any chance of the marker reaching the captain. No need to waste her virtue now he seemed willing to carry her and Cristan without the added inducement.
The rash had now reached the top of her thighs. The itch intense. Endure, she thought. It won't last forever. Swapping the coat for the drying-cloth helped a little. She wrapped herself in the linen, praying the captain hadn't felt her reaction to him.
Out in the corridor, she walked straight into the heavy musky smell of a male-in-heat and realised he most certainly had.
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Chapter 3
The reward had already doubled. Damned middle-men were already getting in on the deal. Dan tapped in the second code-word and waited for the screen to unscramble. Nothing. Systematically, he went through his hack-codes until the snow cleared and yet another picture of the Lady Shula appeared on the screen. Up three levels of security in less than an hour. That couldn't be right. Someone was breaking underworld-protocol at the highest levels. Not good news.
The second screen flickered.
"Daniels?"
"Is not at home,” he muttered and minimised the screen.
"Daniels, my dear boy. Now why did you do that?"
"Go fuck yourself, Astor. I'm busy."
"Oh, I intend to, later on. But now, I have a very important message to impart. I do hope you're listening carefully."
Dan's hand hovered over the off-switch. The sound of Astor's heavy breathing crackled through the single working speaker. Tuning him out would only put off the inevitable. Might as well hear this now.
"Shoot and be quick. I'm busy."
"Oh, don't we know it. Who paid your release from the Ark-club this morning?"
"A fairy. Popped up out of nowhere and told me I'd won the lottery. I couldn't have been more surprised."
The energy light turned from red to green. Dan changed screens and typed in his decoy flight plan.
"So we heard. If you have money to pay for Nabian whores, you have money to pay the General."
"No problem. Give me a full moon-cycle and he can have it with interest."
"You'd like me to buy you time?” The heavily-affected accent dripped mock-sincerity.
One day, Dan thought, I'll have that ugly neck of yours. “How long have I got?"
"He wants it day after next."
Energy-transfer complete, the green light turned to amber.
Flight plan accepted.
Dan clicked affirmative and started up the primary thrusters.
"Two days? No can do. Buy me five."
Astor's voice wavered. “Losing you, old boy. Five it is. Oh and I'll have to increase my cut now you're playing the big-time. Take care, old friend. The General gets a whiff of what you're carrying and you're history."
"I love you too, Astor. Now be a good boy and fuck off."
Dan closed the screen in disgust. The Generals of this galaxy might run the show, but slime like Astor was the lubricant that kept the cogs turning. A bluff. The man couldn't possibly know about the Marium's impromptu passengers yet. Could he?
Concentrate. Get the... Footsteps sounded behind him. Oh hell, not now.
"Captain, I mean Dan. Excuse me for interrupting but will we need to come up front and strap ourselves in for take-off? I promise I have the...sex thing under control."
"I told you, it's not a problem.” He adjusted his erection discretely. “I'll call you when I'm ready. Go back to the cabin, I can't think with you talking at me.” And I need the blood in my brain, not rushing to my cock every time you get within spitting distance.
"Of course, I don't want to be a nuisance. And I hope you don't mind me borrowing your clothes. Your coat brought me out in a rash, but I found this tank-top in the drawer and my skin seems to quite like it. I thought I'd better ask."
"It's fine. Just go...” He made the mistake of turning around. The black tank stood out in stark contrast to Shula's blue-white skin. The scooped neckline dipped low, barely covering her soft round breasts. Pert little nipples stood to attention through the thin fabric. Smooth shoulders, a slim, elegant neck.
Death by torture or by desire. A toss-up which would happen to him first. The visuals were nothing compared to the messages her body was sending to his.
"Out!” he barked. “And whatever it is you're doing, switch it off. Unless you want me to drive this thing straight into the middle of that wall. I have a trajectory to calculate."
"Once the marker is activated, it can't be switched off. But,” she added hastily, palms raised in a gesture of peace when he half-rose from his seat, “It can be controlled. More easily between two Aluderians, granted, but I will make every effort to keep it contained. Be sure of that."
"Just leave,” he said, more gently.
Lust addled your brain, made you do stupid things. A single whiff of marker and he already wanted to paint her naked and then fuck her senseless on the console. He wanted to write a poem to her hair.
Then he wanted to do it all over again. Stupid idiot.
Submit trajectory.
"Refer to flight plan. M class world preferred. B class optional. Avoid all craft on special list by three million light years."
He studied the star-map forming on the screen. Dragging his attention from Shula's breasts to the small matter of getting them off this world without being tracked by slime like Astor.
The Malivulan Moons glowed in the centre of the array. Too close, he decided. Ralivar? Possible. M class, which meant a surface society. A few towns, but mainly small settlements in the mountains by the great lakes. How did one lose a woman and a child in so small a galaxy?
He scrolled the screen sideways. Pasiphae. Ghost-moon of Argon. His dragon twitched as he flexed his shoulders. Dare he show his face there again? The perfect hiding place. But only for one of his passengers.
Primary ignition phase complete. Secure for lift-off.
"Acknowledged. Stand by."
He rubbed his aching forehead. Sobering up was grim, but at last his focus had returned and his stomach stopped rolling. Soon as his erection subsided, he'd call in Shula and the kid and they'd be away.
What a beautiful irony. The more dangerous the mission, the bigger the profit. Or so it usually went. One small tweak to his flight-plan and he'd have the General, and gang-leaders ten times more important, biting off each other's balls for a piece of his cargo.
If only. A man had to have some standards, set some limits or he was no better than a beast. This life hollowed you out, stripped you bare, but he'd managed to cling to a little of his soul. Enough that he knew the difference between right and wrong. And trading human life was plain wrong.
Did the gods still listen when a man had been silent for so long? Would Pasiphae welcome the prodigal son, or cast him out once again?
Only one way to find out.
He opened the intercom.
"Okay, bring up the kid. It's time to go."
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Chapter 4
"He's very small."
Shula waited for Dan to complete his scrutiny of the child. When she turned to rinse out the washing-cloth, she caught him twisting his features into a grimace. Cristan's eyes widened and then his bow-lips turned up into a smile.
"Babies usually are. Thank you for this consideration,” she said nodding at the bowl of warmed water, the relatively-clean drying-cloth and the shirt the captain had ripped up for make-shift diapers. “This will not go unappreciated, I promise. Would you kindly dispose of the contents of this diaper?"
Dan took the soiled shirt reluctantly between his thumb and forefinger, face creased in a look of disgust. “This came out of that? Holy sinfulness, I think I've just discovered a secret weapon. Did the replicator work?"
"You mean for the baby nutrient?” Shula wiped a dribble of milk from the baby's chin. “It's not ideal,
but I think he will tolerate it in the short term. Have you decided on a safe harbour, yet? His Royal Highness needs stability. The chance to grow and attain manhood."
"Then what? He goes home to claim his kingdom? I think I saw that movie."
"Yes, he will go home. That he's already told me."
Dan's eyes narrowed. “Looks a bit young to talk."
"At moments of closeness, I feel things, in here.” She placed a flat palm over her heart and laughed. “Fanciful, I know. Sometimes I have a strong feeling that he's...protecting me in some way."
"Not so unusual with empaths. I've seen stranger."
That made her smile. “I don't doubt it. This is my first time off-world."
"You've never seen the Rings of Artemis? Thought a toff like you would have done the Grand-Tour."
Bathing finished, she set about fashioning another diaper from Dan's sacrificed shirt. “I was sick as a child, the Tarlan virus which kept me abed for most of my twelfth year. By the time I'd recovered, my childhood had passed."
"Never had an illness myself,” Dan said sniffing the air. “Only the self-inflicted kind. Better get rid of junior's little present, here. Swing by the galley when you're done. I'll fix us both something to eat."
"Thank you.” Instinctively, she dropped him a small curtsey. He returned a bow, all the while fighting to contain a knowing smirk. Shula refused to ask where he'd learned the ways of court and simply acknowledged him with a small nod of her head. She knew all about subterfuge, the way people put on fronts to further their own interests. This close she could see the paler circle of skin around the eye on which he'd worn the patch. The gemstone in his canine flashed as it caught the light. The dragon's tail peeked out from beneath his sleeve.
She turned away, already feeling the familiar tendril of longing reaching out to him, entwining with one of his own.
"Don't forget to wash your hands, Captain."
"I'll be in the galley,” he said, tersely, but not unkindly. “Join me when you're ready."
As she finished tending to Cristan's needs, she went through her breathing ritual and did a quick visualisation she'd fashioned to close down the markers that released whenever Dan moved into her sight.
Why didn't they tell you this in life-skills class? Everyone knew about the frenzy; the phenomenon was well-documented in history class. It was even whispered that some of the lower orders still indulged their baser needs in such a scandalous fashion. But as a race, they'd mostly evolved past all that.
Sexual restraint had brought calm and prosperity. And a life of excruciating boredom, she now realised. There existed a fine line between order and lifelessness. Two days in the company of Captain Daniels had taught her that lesson.
Cristan had fallen asleep on the table, head to the side, both arms raised. Every time she looked at him her heart melted with love and clenched in fear of the future. Between the child and the captain, she would be lucky to survive with her wits intact.
"Come on, sweet-heart.” With Cristan gathered safely into the crook of her arm, she moved to the computer terminal set in a small desk area. A little knowledge might prevent further embarrassment.
Tapping the hash-key, she said, “Aluderian mating ritual, rules and regulations."
Access denied.
She let out a frustrated breath. Not surprising.
"Daniels code 24A reinstate restriction one."
Access denied.
Tapping the star key ten times, she did a mental search for the access code purchased to spy on her grand-uncle and his cronies.
"Configure link Delta chrome. Reverse cycle Alcandae."
Access to primary mail only. One new communication.
She sat back, sighing. All right. Simply explain the situation to the captain and tell him that, for both their sakes, she would need access to the Mating Rules, and quickly.
Subject Passengers. Read now or save?
Passengers? Her heart started a slow heavy thudding. Stand up and walk away, she told herself. You either trust the captain, or you don't.
"Read,” she whispered, senses in free-fall. For the sake of the child, she couldn't afford one wrong-foot.
The path, which has grown between us, is strewn with the debris of life. All have said and done that which we regret. The male's voice was sombre, cracked with age. She caught a hint of censure in his words.
You are forgiven for the shuttle incident. Return, my son. And be absolved.
Hastily, she cleared the screen. The message, signed with a name she couldn't pronounce, meant nothing to her. But then, it wasn't for her.
A faint blush tinted her cheeks. The cosiness of the past two days on this ship, the growing feeling of security had made her forget her mission.
Nothing mattered but that.
* * * *
Somewhere, between the wise-cracking and the smart-talk, he'd lost himself.
Dan turned his back on the image reflected in the polished metal of the replicator cabinet. Ace-pilot, super-stud extraordinaire, drunk. The downward spiral of risk-taking and good-times had crept upon him too slowly to notice. The replicator announced the arrival of food. A thin, grey mess that would supply nutrients but nothing else.
Pulling the tray from the replicator, he tried to remember the last time he'd tasted good, honest home-cooking. Last night's Eligor eggs, at three hundred credits a bite, sat heavy on his stomach. He had a vague memory of ordering eggs for everyone in the house, but that could have been the Vintor Club on Ragnar7. He rolled the shoulder muscle almost wrenched from the bone in the arm-wrestling marathon. The ladies were always very generous to the victor. And he liked to win. He reached for the brandy.
"Captain Daniels?"
"That's me."
Shula hovered in the doorway, a hint of anxiety colouring her features. Silver hair flowing loosely down her back. He beckoned her inside the small galley.
"Hope you like your food grey,” he said. “Think the base-unit's shot."
Two days into the journey and they'd fallen into a tentative camaraderie. Now she looked anything but relaxed.
"You don't like grey food?” He slid the tray back into the replicator. “Can be any colour you like. What's your fancy?"
"You have mail,” she said at last. “I didn't mean to pry. In fact I was looking for Aluderian Mating Rules and well...the mail just popped up."
"And which mail would this be?” Violet. He tapped the new colour into the replicator. She looked like a violet kind of person.
"I can't remember the name.” Shula stepped into the galley. “The subject matter caught my attention, so I read it. Wouldn't you have?"
Now here was a woman who shot from the hip. Half his size. Completely out of her depth. Spirit unbowed.
"Don't hold back,” he said meeting her challenge because this kind of bravery deserved no less. “Tell me what's on your mind. You think I'm about to sell you and the kid to the highest bidder?"
Shula's voice held an edge of hysteria. “Can you blame me for wondering? Look at the state of your ship, Captain. You said yourself that you needed the credits."
"Why do women always jump to conclusions? The wrong ones,” he added. “Have I done anything to make you think I'm about to betray you?” Behind him, the replicator beeped.
"I don't know.” She looked resigned rather than angry with him. And tired to the point of exhaustion. Between worrying about him and the baby, had she gotten any sleep since she'd come onboard?
The violet food looked as appetising as road-kill. “I guess it's less than you're used to,” he said pushing the dish towards her. “I would have worn my tux, but..."
"It's at the cleaners,” she finished for him. “Captain, I would rather know my fate now, than wake up a slave in the outer-reaches. The bar-keep at O'Reilly's Tavern said you were the only one I could trust. Did she lie?"
"Yes and no."
Shula sagged visibly.
"Oh, don't worry. She's a rare judge of character, that one. But, a
s you can see, I'm not nine kleftas tall.” He spread his arms wide. Let her take his measure.
"You're mocking me, Captain.” Shula lowered her gaze, two spots of colour spreading across her pale cheeks. “Trust is such a fragile thing. So hard-earned and so easily broken."
"You got that right."
She lifted her chin. “You must not be offended when I say I don't trust you yet. It's too soon. Too much hangs in the balance."
"Well, I don't trust you either,” he said stabbing a fork into the violet mess. “I've met assassins with prettier faces than yours. Slept with a sword under my bed for the past two nights."
Shula moved fully into the room and perched herself on a stool, hands folded into her lap. “You cannot deny that you have the advantage of me, Captain. Until we reach land-fall, I am your captive."
"I told you to call me Dan."
"Please, I am at your mercy. You must know how vulnerable that makes me feel."
He pushed away the plate, frowning. “You foist yourself on me, and then accuse me of evil intent? I'm not going to turn you in, okay? You have my word on it."
"Are you willing to prove that to me? Show me that I may truly trust you and I will make you a rich man. A very rich man."
"I thought you'd already spent your every credit on me. Now, eat your food.” He shoved the plate at her, conscious of the rising heat between them. After mentally counting to ten in three languages, he continued.
"I'll let you drive if it makes you feel more comfortable. The mail was from an old friend. I needed his advice, he gave it."
"Was your friend talking about us? Me and Cristan?"
"If you can handle the truth without getting hysterical—yes, he was."
Head bowed, she digested the news. Through the curtain of pale hair, Dan saw the colour rising in her cheeks, suffusing the delicate arch of her neck. Poor Shula, she'd never make a poker-player.
"I have a proposition to make,” she said. “One that will place us in a balance of trust. May I put it to you?"
"Only if you eat something.” He tilted his chin at the dish. “I've hardly seen you touch a bite."
"I will, but let me say this first. We should mate with each other. Give in to these feelings. As a show of trust, you understand?"
