by Candy Nicks
Reluctantly, she left the rec-room to retrieve the coveralls she'd bundled up for washing. She couldn't resist a snort of laughter at the sound of Cristan filling his diaper.
"Change him,” she called out, knowing full-well that Dan's love of babies extended only to being a role-model who amused them with silly noises and completely unsuitable bar-room songs. Anything to do with feeding or cleaning was woman's work.
"Well, not this time,” she muttered. Knowing they were probably being tracked, even pursued by the scum of the galaxy made impromptu stops a terrifying proposition. She'd crawl into the reactor-core itself in order to avoid that.
The limbo of space, the confines of the small ship, gave the illusion of safety. But, she'd seen the constantly changing patterns of dots and dashes on the read-out screen. Knew that space was crowded with personal vehicles, freighters, large and small, hauling interplanetary tonnage, huge intergalactic cruisers. Any one of them could be carrying someone willing to collect the bounty on the head of an innocent child.
In the cabin, she wriggled out of her pants and underwear. Pulled off the tank-top and slid into the oversized coveralls. She looked ridiculous, but was well past caring about outward appearances. With only a quick glance at the wavering image in the polished-metal wall, she rolled up the legs and pushed back the long sleeves. The waist she cinched with her own belt, pulling up as much of the fabric as she could in order to be able to walk without waddling.
She met Dan in the corridor. He placed a finger to his lips.
"He's asleep."
She glanced past him dubiously. “You didn't put him down dirty?” she said in a stage whisper.
"I changed him,” he said proudly.
"And you want what? A medal? Come, show me where these tubes are. I really don't like the idea of making planet-fall before we've cleared this sector."
"If the couplings are shot, we'll have to anyway."
Dan was staring straight down the gaping cleavage of the coveralls, a look of outright appreciation on his face. She wasn't quick enough to stop the burst of marker releasing and filling the space between them.
"Sorry,” she said “I'm trying, I really am.” A delicious pulsing had already started, low down, the place between her legs growing damp as her body prepared itself to receive his. Dan gave a low rumbling groan and adjusted his pants.
Since the kiss in the asteroid field, he hadn't touched her. Whatever happened, he wanted it free of ties. Fanning her hot cheeks with her hands, she followed him to the ladder leading up to the engine-room. He climbed first, disappearing through the small circular hatch. His head and shoulders reappeared to haul her across his body and into the cramped space.
"Need to clip on the safety-line,” he said ignoring the small pulse of marker reaching between them. No way could she control it when she was lying across his hard body, lips only a whisper apart. With his large hands clutching her arms so firmly, she wouldn't be able to fight him off should he decide to take her here and now.
Wriggling away, she pushed back images of sweaty bodies tangled in ecstasy and replaced them with hard metal and flickering lights. And rabid bounty-hunters who would take her and the child back in pieces if they had to.
Her pupils widened to let in the meagre light filtering through from below. A crippled ship would make easy pickings. Even at full-strength, a craft this age wouldn't outrun the newer Kelarium-powered models. Dan slid his fingers into her belt and secured her to the line. The other end he clipped to a hook on the wall.
"Anything happens, I can pull you out."
Blue-light glowed at the end of the narrow tunnel. “You said it wasn't dangerous."
"Would you go if I did? Here, put on the gloves."
For a man who made such stupid decisions with money, he mustered an impressive focus when required. Fortunate since her own thoughts were increasingly scattered to the nine vectors.
In answer, she twisted and dropped onto her elbows. Slipped her fingers into the too-large gloves. “Tell me what to do."
"About half-way in, you'll see a coupling leaking fluid. That's what you can smell. Snap the cover closed and twist the dial until the light goes green. Don't over-tighten or it will blow. Got that?"
"Yes.” Her voice sounded surer than she felt. “What if I break it?"
"Then it will have to be plan B. Go on, the more fluid we lose, the harder it will be to close the cover. I'll pull you out if you get into trouble."
"You have a plan B? I'm impressed.” Laughing in the face of danger seemed as good a strategy as any and how hard could this be? In, snap, twist, out. Easy.
"Always pays to have a plan B,” he replied, dryly. “Let's get this done."
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Chapter 6
Better not tell her that plan B involved fucking her ‘till she couldn't move, while the ship slowly died and drifted into the path of some intergalactic monster which would hardly notice the impact.
If they lost the compensators, he might as well hang a sign on the tail-end of the Marium and announce open-season.
"It's stuck, I can't move it."
"Keep calm. And keep trying,” he added. “Claustrophobia hits, just take a couple of deep breaths."
"You owe me a bottle of brandy for this,” she called back. “It's no good, I can't make it move."
"Fuck!” The sound of his fist hitting metal echoed around the chamber. “Give it another go. Are you sure you're turning it the right way?"
"It won't move. And I need to get out, now. Oh goddess, I can't turn around."
Recognising the sounds of impending panic, he tugged lightly on the safety line. “Just crawl backwards. I have you."
Shula's feet appeared at the rim of the tube. “Pull me out,” she said a note of hysteria in her voice. “Get me out.” She fell into his lap, cheeks ablaze. Trembling and gasping for air. Grease streaked her hair, her face, the front of the coveralls.
"Hot in there,” she said on broken breaths. “Help me get...” she clawed at the coveralls. “Help me get these off."
"Hey, just breathe, Sugar.” Dan held her shaking body, hands holding hers firmly in place. “It'll pass."
"You didn't tell me it would be...so hot in there.” She softened in his arms, breathing evening out. Tipped back her head to look into his eyes. Hers had lost all colour in the dim light.
"I couldn't do it,” she said. “I so wanted to help."
"Shh,” he said, twisting his legs to enclose her with bent knees. “Was a long-shot anyway. I didn't think you'd do it. Brave girl for trying, though."
"Girl?” The notion seemed to amuse her. “Do you know what my full title is?"
"It's nothing less than ten words, that's for sure."
"I am The Lady Shula Araphni, of the most noble Estepharian house of Aluderia. What do you think of that?” The words were slurred, drunken.
"I think you need cooling down,” he said pressing a palm to her burning cheek. “Can you turn around?"
No answer. For a couple of heartbeats, she was a dead weight. Then her eyes opened and stared vacantly back at him.
"Misha?"
"Dan. Keep breathing, Sugar. Need to get you down the hatch when you feel able."
"Sugar? Who's Sugar? Goddess, I'm so hot."
"I know. You do need to take this off."
Helping her to cool down, that's all he was doing. Liar, he thought. No marker this time, she was too out of it to be playing him. Too soft and pliable in his arms to resist. If he took her now, it would be on his own terms.
The fasteners gave under his questing fingers, sliding over her smooth shoulders, revealing pale breasts tipped by the darker buds of her nipples. He looked and groaned and called himself every type of shit for not averting his gaze.
"Need you on my terms. Wish it could be otherwise.” The pang of regret surprised him, but with an unscheduled stop now on the cards, everything had changed. Never mind what she thought of him afterwards. And she would hate him for what he had pla
nned for Cristan.
Best way to keep someone in line? Give them something that makes them forget who they are. Drugs? He couldn't do that to her. But this? Sliding a hand into the open coverall, he touched her skin, covered her breast and squeezed until she moaned and pushed herself into his hand.
Arrogant bastard. One day she'll turn around and slap that smug face of yours. And rightly so.
Hero or villain? He traced the soft curve of her stomach, shifted her in his lap to give his searching fingers better access. Pushed away her hair to expose her neck. Her thighs parted with no coaxing. She was already slick and wet when he covered her mound with the heel of his hand, slid his fingers between her legs.
"Kiss me,” he ordered, voice rough, barely controlled.
"The marker,” she said, suddenly struggling to be released. “You didn't want..."
"Like this, it's not a problem.” He spoke the words in between nips of her ear, a line of kisses across her cheek. When he lifted her hair completely and blew on her sensitive nape, she pulled him down and sealed her lips to his.
The first hint of marker seeped through the barely-released passion. Time to pull back before his plan backfired on him big-time.
"That's how it feels when I'm free, when we're both free,” he said with a final kiss to the top of her head. “I've so much more to show you."
"Now. Show me now."
"Later,” he said, briskly pushing the folds of the coverall together. “We'd better go check on Cristan."
"I know what you're doing.” The spots of colour marking her cheeks had nothing to do with the heat. Shula pulled away from him, fumbling at the coveralls. “It's just a game of one-upmanship, isn't it? Or what? Do you need me in thrall so I don't notice when you sell us to the highest bidder?"
"Doing you a favour, Sugar. I can teach you to turn that marker off. Give you the chance to experience the responses of a man who wants you for yourself, not because you tricked him or enslaved him with your mojo."
"Then I should thank you, should I not?” She gave a small hysterical laugh and shoved past him to the ladder-hatch. “Thank you Captain, for teaching me so many valuable lessons.” The hatch swallowed her. Then her head reappeared.
"I'm not angry with you. Don't think I am. I..."
He dived at the hatch just as her fingers loosened on the top rung. Not angry? Dangling by her coveralls, bunched into his clenched fist, she looked furious with him.
"If that was meant to make me flounce away in a righteous huff, then your little plan has failed. To become a woman of the world, I will need knowledge of the world. Put me down."
A smirk quirked his lips. “Grab the rung and secure yourself. I won't let you fall. I told you before. I can offer comfort, pleasure but without strings and without ties. Best way I've found to survive this life. Get used to it. If I can find you a place of safety, and it's a big ‘if', bare survival is all you have to look forward to. Did you think of that when you started this crazy quest?"
By the god of sin, her face would melt the coldest heart. Dan shuffled back into the compartment and twisted to sit back against the wall. His own hands were shaking when he unsnapped his metal belt and jerked open his pants. Oh, sweet relief. The pressure on his heavy erection eased as his cock bobbed free.
On the third moon of Aloana he'd find tube-crawlers strong enough to close the darned nocens cover. A dock-master who would neglect to log his landing. And maybe a whore who would give him a swift, satisfying blow or even full sex, if she were desperate enough to take a payment on promise.
If he couldn't save the three of them, then he'd settle for the kid. Shula would understand that.
When he was in a fit state to walk, he shimmied down the ladder and went forward to see how many other craft had joined in the game. To some, that's all it was. Rewards were a bonus, second to the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of stalking a prey across systems and galaxies. Pinning them to the wall. Getting high on their fear.
And torture. More than a few of them would relish quality-time with him and a fully-charged elektroprobe.
His balls tightened.
When you start walking a path you believe to be the right one, keep walking, regardless of the terrain. His old teacher's words echoed in his head.
All the exits were blocked. From now on, they could only go forward and hope they could do that faster than the people who came behind.
* * * *
If Dan wanted sex in return for helping them, then why didn't he just come out with it? She'd vowed to do anything to protect the child. Sex with Dan would at least be a pleasurable experience if he could indeed teach her how to turn off the marker. Not as if he was some Eighty-year old slime-ball with five cocks and a tongue longer than her arm.
Language, lady Shula! Her great-aunt's voice rang in her head. But what use were pretty words out here? She would ask Dan to teach her a few choice phrases and retorts. Learn to swear like the peasants who emptied the sewage disposal-units. When she could face him without bursting into flames. Her blushing problem had run out of control since meeting the captain.
Freshly showered, back in her own clothes, she should have come down from his teasing by now. Should have regrouped and be planning a counter-attack. Yet this was too serious to be seen as a game. Dan wanted her on her knees at his feet, naked and begging for him to take her. Oh goddess, had she really just thought that? And worse, she wanted to be there. To have him finish what he'd started in the galley and continued in the engine-compartment.
What she'd started, she corrected. Dan may have taken the advantage, but she'd ignited the spark.
Leaning forward, she threaded her fingers in the fine strands of her silver hair, working systematically through the snarls, one eye on the sleeping child.
"Oh, goddess in chains,” she muttered. Cut it off and have done. She glanced around for anything resembling shears or a knife and remembered Dan's order to leave it as is.
What did he know? Hip-length hair was for ladies with servants and time to waste on washing and conditioning and combing.
Cristan muttered and wriggled one arm free from the wrapping-blanket. Instinctively, she leaned across to adjust the cover.
What in the name of the sleeping goddess? Three spots of dark colour stood out clearly on the back of the child's hand. Pulling back his sleeve, she noticed four more, extending above his wrist. Menen virus. It could take a child in less than a day. The panicked thought came and went. When she pressed the skin, the spots remained inky dark. She licked her finger and rubbed gently. A small smudge appeared around the rim of the spots. Her fingertip was similarly smudged.
The bastard. She turned for the door and then checked herself. An identification mark, that much was obvious. Only Dan could have put it there. But why? So Cristan could be picked up when they landed for the service-call? She checked her own arms, twisting frantically.
Where would it end? In some back-alley with a slit throat? Or locked in a harem on some obscure world, while Cristan was raised elsewhere as the son of a rich, childless couple?
Features set, she made her way to the con with no idea how to play this game in the face of a master. She didn't have the credits to buy him off and he knew that. Sex? That he could purchase, unencumbered, at any port. No wonder he'd been so indifferent to her pathetic offering.
Not so indifferent.
But not so interested, either.
Appeal to his reason?
Reason had a way of disappearing in a vapour-cloud when faced with temptation and personal gain.
"Your eyes are black. Sure sign you're mad at me."
Shula stood in the doorway to the con, glaring at the back of Dan's custom-seat.
"How can you see my eyes?"
"I guessed.” The seat swivelled. Dan tipped forward, arms resting on knees. He'd changed into a relatively clean shirt that may once have been white. Black straight-legged pants hung over his boots. His cheeks were clean-shaven for the first time since she'd barge
d into his life.
"Are you expecting someone, Captain?"
"Eventually, yes.” From the fingers of one hand hung a small flute. The image of this hulk of a man teasing out the delicate notes of the Philan threw her. He tossed it onto the con and rose in one fluid movement to stand before her. Filling the cabin with more than his physical size.
Too close to look him in the eye. Hastily, she stepped back.
"I take it you saw the marks."
"You thought I wouldn't?” She wanted to hit him. Would he even feel it? “Why, Captain? I thought we had a deal."
"Keep your hair on. We still do.” Dan picked up the flute. Blew a few notes. Laughed softly as some sudden memory.
"So, you're going to tell me why you tattooed a picture of a...oh goddess, a dragon-tail.” She saw it now. On the back of Dan's own hand, three dark spots surrounded by the more intricate markings of the dragon tail. “What's going on, Captain Daniels?"
"The saving of Cristan's precious little ass. That's what. Any more questions?” He raised the flute.
"Stop that!” She lunged at the Philan, missed and collided with the arc of his forearm as he swung the instrument out of her reach.
"Holy sin, woman!” Dan checked her momentum, pushing her to arm's length so the punch that followed disturbed only the air between them.
Undaunted, she swung again, this time catching his biceps. She might as well have tried to punch a hole in the ship's metal wall.
"Why did you mark Cristan? Tell me,” she demanded, ignoring the heat suffusing her cheeks. “He's just a child. How could you do this to him, to me?"
"I told you, tempting though the prospect is, I'm not going to turn you in."
"The marks are the same as yours. Why?"
"Not telling you."
"Just like that? You're refusing to tell me?"
"About sums it up. Guess you'll just have to trust me on it. Do you know you're one heck of a desirable woman when you're mad? Hot and juicy and not a damned marker in sight."
He was leering in open appreciation. Not even bothering to hide it, while she quivered with pent-up anger and frustration.
But no marker. She'd touched him, got near enough to breathe in his exhaled breath with not the slightest hint of marker.
