Embrace the Romance

by S. E. Smith

  “Neither, I’m afraid,” Farrol said regretfully. “We’ve been ordered to remain with the yacht to oversee repairs. She took quite a strafing from the renegades.”

  “I see.” No question the lightly-armed luxury craft had gotten the worst of a skirmish with a rogue guerilla gunship. His gaze returned to Ketsia. “I was told you’d have a companion.”

  She gracefully bent and hefted the case beside her feet in one hand. “I do.”

  Jagger scowled at her luggage, noting the hard sides and narrow slots. Not a bag then—a crate. “You’re bringing an animal aboard?” Jagger regretted his gruff tone as soon as it slipped out. Intolerance wasn’t one of his more admirable qualities.

  “Not just an animal.” She gave him a wary—and utterly heart-stopping—smile. “My StarDog.”

  “A pet?” He tried, and failed, not to sound cynical.

  “A friend,” Ketsia clarified.

  “I wasn’t aware I’d be transporting live cargo.”

  “Luna’s not cargo, Captain. She’s well-trained, and she was reared on starships, so she won’t be any trouble.”

  Her yacht jock spoke up. “You can rest assured the animal won’t sully your…” Captain Farrol squinted at the Sheeban with obvious distaste. “…fine ship.”

  Bringing a scowl to bear on the man, Jagger squared his shoulders and pointedly let the helmet drop from his hand to bounce by the chin strap. Junkheap or not, no one insulted any ship he captained. “My conveyance may not be much to look at, but I assure you she’ll finish the job you started.”

  Farrol’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to Ketsia. “Are you quite comfortable with your transport, Ms. Tayah? It’s an unusual situation, to be sure. If you’re not completely satisfied…”

  The woman’s gaze settled once again on the ancient ship before flitting to Jagger. “I have every confidence in the plans. And this ship.” She gave the men a smile full of conviction. “Thank you, gentlemen. You can be on your way.”

  “Very well. We’ll return to the repair docks then. But if you should change your mind—”

  “You’re good to go, Captain,” Ketsia said then lifted her radiant eyes back to Jagger’s. “I’ve been assured I’ll be in the best of hands.”

  Wait. Was that a hint of snark in her tone? How much did this woman know about him? It wouldn’t be like Jaeo to fill his daughter in on his history with the Mennelsohns. Would it?

  The men muttered their farewells and ambled off with several dubious glances back at Sheeban.

  “Right,” Jagger said, reaching for the crate. “We need to get underway. I can stow the animal while you get settled in your quarters.”

  Now her black eyes snapped with alarm. “You won’t be stowing her anywhere. She stays with me. And her name is Luna.”

  No Sundog—or whatever she’d called the creature—was going to have free run of his ship. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we have strict protocols regarding live cargo.”

  “With all due respect, Captain, it seems your military protocols have been thoroughly dispensed with for this mission. Luna stays with me.”

  So this beautiful face had a bite to it? He didn’t like making exceptions, but he owed a lot to Jaeo, and by extension, his family. Jagger backed off a step, dropping his voice a full octave to rumble, “Noted. I can allow it a trial, but if it causes any mischief, I’ll insist it be confined.”

  “She won’t be any trouble.” Ketsia lowered her head to soothe the creature in a voice soft with affection. “Will you, baby?” That gentle lilt caressed Jagger’s awareness like a whisper, making his imagination fire and his traitorous pulse rate spike.

  Lock it down! He gave his face a mental slap. Even if women were still on your menu, this one is totally off-limits.

  Ketsia lifted her chin, and her black gaze returned to his face. “So, as I understand it, we’re supposed to be married?”

  Jagger managed not to choke on his tongue. “Pardon?”

  “I was told in case of trouble, our story is that we’re Dallan and Adey Tion, a bonded pair of independent freighters, transporting seeds to the new colony on Arst.”

  “Now there’s a brilliant cover.” Jagger huffed out a breath and donned his helmet, snapping the chin strap into place. Not bad enough that they’d given him a shoddy relic to fly, but they’d married him off, as well?

  Ketsia lowered her head, but her eyes remained fixed on his faceplate. “They didn’t tell you this?”

  “Only the essentials for now, due to the short window.” Jagger subconsciously ran a hand over the code card in the thigh pocket of his coveralls. As soon as they disembarked, he’d pull the datacube and get up to speed.

  “Captain Jagger, am I to understand you don’t fully comprehend your mission?”

  She was questioning his fitness? “Ms. Mennelsohn, if you have any doubts about my qualifications or my suitability—”

  “It’s Ms. Tayah.”

  “—then it’s your prerogative to request a different escort. But the truth is I’m woefully overqualified to carry out my orders.”

  She lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “I’m aware of your sterling qualifications, Captain.”

  He returned her glare, satisfied the faceplate concealed the ire heating his face. She wouldn’t hear it in his words. “Further, Ambassador Mennelsohn specifically requested me for this duty.”

  “Ambassador Gant. He hasn’t gone by Mennelsohn for many calendars.” She peered up at him dubiously.

  He met her skepticism with a deep frown. “I’m aware of that.”

  “Could you please take that off?” she asked quietly. “Because I feel like I’m talking to a machine.”

  A machine, was he? With one quick swipe at the catch under his chin, Jagger clamped his hands on the sides of the helmet and lifted it free of his head, stowing it under one arm.

  “I imagine—”

  He savored the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen and her mouth part slightly, truncating her thought.

  His subspecies tended to sport sharp, pinched features and a pronounced beak for a nose. Jagger’s face was atypical for his kind. Most women found him attractive, and downright alpha when his eyes went stormy. Miss Rathskian Ambassador’s Daughter appeared to be no exception.

  “What did you imagine?” he challenged in a deep, rolling bass.

  The StarDog answered with a low growl from inside the case.

  “Luna, no,” Ketsia whispered, placing her hand over the wire mesh door.

  “I don’t think your animal likes me.”

  “That’s one thing we can both agree on.” Her eyes flashed with exasperation.

  Sweet Hades. Even when she was angry, she was…captivating.

  And that set all the sirens blaring in the early warning system in his heart. The same awareness detector that hadn’t sounded in three long calendars.

  Jagger composed himself before announcing, “Unless you wish to request other arrangements, we’ll deploy in five tempas.”

  “The arrangements…” She met his lock-jawed challenge before her eyes cut back to the Sheeban’s sorry carcass. “…suit me fine.”

  “Noted,” Jagger said flatly. “Let me show you to your cabin before we get underway.”

  Three

  Once he’d piloted Sheeban clear of her berth, Jagger input the course into the nav-system and pulled the packet with the code card from the thigh pocket of his coveralls. He opened it and dumped the contents into his palm. Along with the safe’s lock code, a square of paper slipped out. Jagger unfolded it to discover a handwritten note from Admiral Kareek himself.

  Captain Jagger:

  The fact that you’re reading this letter means you didn’t file a protest of your assignment at first sight of this junk dealer reject. If so, you will have pleasantly surprised me. It proves you’ve got more mettle than I gave you credit for.

  But then, if you have half the intelligence your IQ tests avow, you might have realized that neither the Carduwan government no
r Ambassador Gant would allow his ward to be transported through a dangerous sector of space in a second-rate shit-hauler.

  There’s a reason he chose you…and a reason he had this ship delivered to Talstar for your assignment.

  Once you’re set to leave dock, insert the enclosed datacube into the side port of your helmet for your full briefing of mission parameters and this craft’s capabilities. Let me assure you that, despite appearances, piloting this vessel will afford you a very unique opportunity.

  Once you leave the Talstar Traffic Perimeter, you’ll make no further contact with Command to maintain your cover. We can’t risk a rogue ship picking up any official communications from the Sheeban. You are to dispose of this message and the instructional datacell in the ship’s waste incinerator before you enter the Bradley Rift.

  Be safe out there, Captain Jagger. Take good care of your passenger. Much is riding on your success.

  Jagger lowered the note to his thigh. The admiral’s last words carried the punch he was sure the man had intended.

  So Jaeo himself had arranged for the delivery of the Sheeban especially for this assignment? Then there had to be a lot more to the old girl than just a scuffed carcass and faded paint.

  That much was heartening. He looked forward to this briefing.

  He plugged the code into the purser safe and opened it to extract the datacell.

  After reaching up to locate the helmet input port with his fingers, he plugged in the device containing his full brief.

  The inside of his faceplate exploded to life in a vivid, 3D display.

  Ketsia checked the fit of the scruffy gray coveralls in the imager on the wall of her quarters. Hardly flattering, but at least the material was comfortable.

  She glanced at the helmet resting sideways on her bed—rack, she mentally corrected. Luna had made a den of it, and only the StarDog’s bushy tail was visible, jutting out the opening.

  “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m going to need that.”

  Luna chittered back at her softly.

  “Ha,” Ketsia huffed. “No, it isn’t. You’ll just have to find something else to cuddle up in.”

  She moved to the bed and lifted the helmet, rousing Luna by spilling her out onto the covers. The StarDog flicked her pointed ears, clicked her teeth, and deftly jumped to the arm of her coveralls, climbing up to perch on her shoulder in a blur of white and black. Ketsia eased the headgear on, fixing the strap and initializing the feed. The 3D displays glowed to life on the inner surface of the faceplate.

  Ketsia scanned the read-outs and smiled.

  Luna squeaked.

  “Well, yes, he does seem a little arrogant—”

  Luna interrupted with a sharp trill.

  Ket winced and clamped her hands over the helmet’s ear vents. “All right, incredibly arrogant. But Jaeo believes Captain Jagger can get us through the Rift safely. We’ll be with him for two weeks, so we should try to be allies.”

  The little StarDog sneezed.

  “We should still try.”

  Ketsia left her quarters with Luna balanced on her right shoulder, and scouted the main deck for the captain. Not finding him, she headed up the lift to the upper deck. He didn’t need to be at his console to fly the ship, but she supposed he’d gravitated there out of habit.

  Sure enough, she found him slouched in a flight couch, his visor pointed out the port toward the stars.

  “Captain Jagger,” Ketsia greeted.

  He lowered the leg he’d braced against the console and straightened in his seat. “Ms. Mennelsohn.”

  “Ms. Tayah. But please call me Ketsia to dispense with formalities.”

  “Fair enough.” He gave a subtle nod. “Call me Jagger, if you prefer.”

  From the angle of his head, halfway between her and the port, she couldn’t tell if he was looking at her or out into space.

  She gave him a tight smile. “Mind if I man the co console?”

  “I see you dressed for the occasion,” he quipped, not acknowledging the unusual enhancement of a StarDog parked on her shoulder.

  “Yes.” She settled in the co-pilot’s couch and ran her fingers over the worn sleeve of the coveralls. “Best to look the part, even if the plan is not to be spotted.”

  “A sensible precaution,” he agreed.

  “Do you think we’ll fool the rogues?” she asked.

  “Probably.” His visor turned fully in her direction. “But there’s more to worry about in the Rift than renegades. Slavers, human traffickers, drug-runners, and fugitives tend to populate it, too. Still, none are likely to take note of us. Crop seeds don’t present a desirable bounty to spaceborne criminals.”

  Ketsia focused on the proximity scan readouts on the left side of her visor. No blips on the screen out to the scan range of a million milos.

  “So I assume you’ve now had your full briefing? Did it come as a surprise?”

  The Carduwan captain’s mouth eased into a guarded smile. “Quite. Recovered two calendars ago from a boneyard on Dartis and with just her interior restored to date, she only looks the part of rat-hulled spacejunk.” He reached out to pat the monitor, as if in apology to the craft. “But our lowly Sheeban is none other than the legend herself—Banshee. Zaviar Mennelsohn’s celebrated original prototype.”

  Luna added a happy trill to his glowing valuation.

  “And yet you took this assignment thinking you were flying into the Rift in a battered hulk of a ship. Why would you do it?”

  “I’ve never been one to question duty.” He straightened his legs, pushing himself back into the flight couch.

  “I seriously doubt that,” Ketsia muttered.

  “Regardless,” Jagger replied in a clipped tone. “I did it for Jaeo. We go back a long way.”

  Ketsia nodded. “Back to your Flight Academy days.”

  Jagger’s face shield quickly angled her way, but he simply responded, “That’s correct,” and looked away again, with no apparent curiosity about how deep her knowledge of his history ran.

  In truth, it was pretty shallow. A few mentions by Jaeo…and her personal knowledge of Captain Jagger from her ordeal on the Network command ship, Spirit. But it was obvious he didn’t remember that frightened, disoriented seventeen-year-old girl who’d clung to Sair like he was her only lifeline to sanity.

  “Do you mind if I fly her for a while?” Ketsia asked.

  The captain braced his feet against the deck and straightened his spine, his body language registering clear surprise. “You know how to fly Banshee?”

  “Yes. Jaeo used to take me along when he checked her out of the museum on Spirit for maintenance runs.” Ketsia skimmed her fingertips along the armrest of her flight couch. “He taught me.”

  “You have a functional unit?” Jagger asked, tipping his helmet toward the one she wore.

  “Of course. Fully functional.” She laughed softly. “I’m not just wearing it for looks.”

  Captain Jagger glanced at his monitor, reached over to flip a couple of switches, and went still, apparently scanning the readouts hidden on the inside of his visor—the same data Ketsia was receiving on hers—for their status. He could relax. They were in the clear, still days away from entering the Bradley Rift.

  “Be my guest,” he finally agreed.

  Ketsia raised her head and her voice along with it, “Sheeban. Co-pilot assuming command.”

  The ship pinged an acknowledgement, and the helm was transferred from Jagger’s drive helmet to hers, flashing a line of blue letters: Pilot transfer: Dallan Tion to Adey Tion.

  “The ship was programmed with our cover names,” Ketsia remarked.

  “Fleet wouldn’t overlook obvious details.”

  He drummed his fingers on the arm rest and his body went rock-still. Was he scanning every detail of his readouts for trouble? He may have allowed her to take the con out of curiosity, but he clearly wasn’t comfortable with her piloting capabilities.

  “Relax, Captain,” she reassured him. “I’v
e flown her dozens of times without the slightest mishap.”

  “Duly noted,” he said, after attempting to casually clear his throat.

  Luna became active on her shoulder, moving from side-to-side and softly chittering her brand of encouragement. Ketsia laughed at her antics and reached up to scratch her little buddy’s neck.

  She caught the slow swivel of Jagger’s helmet from the vu-port to Luna’s bouncing shoulder dance.

  “Where do StarDogs hail from?” he asked. “Never encountered one before.”

  Despite his face being half-hidden by the visor, he seemed genuinely interested. “They hail from a talented bio-engineer.” Ketsia pressed her knuckles to the base of her helmet and eased it back to a more comfortable position. “They’re recombinant canine, weasel, mongoose, and feline DNA, created to serve as starship mascots and vermin exterminators.” Giving him a sly smile, the one expression visible to him below her faceshield, she added, “And as Network spies on Alliance ships, if the rumors are true.”

  “Huh.” He shifted in his seat. “And how does an ambassador’s daughter come by such an animal?”

  She affectionately stroked Luna’s soft fur. “She was a gift.”

  “From a man friend?”

  Ketsia sniffed. What, did he think men regularly showered her with exotic gifts? “From two friends, actually. Taro and Adini Shall. A couple who crewed for Jaeo on Wisdom when he was flying for the Network. The same vessel that had to be destroyed in spaceport during a covert Network mission.”

  “I remember Wisdom,” Jagger said in a low voice. “She was a good ship.”

  Did he also remember that it was Captain Drea Mennelsohn who’d destroyed her uncle’s ship to keep it out of enemy hands? The same Drea Mennelsohn he’d probably flown with during Operation Reset, and who was now bondmate to her good friend Sair.

  He’d certainly gotten quiet.

  “Jaeo returned later to retrieve his crew. I met Taro and Adini on his new vessel, Acumen.”

  “And how did Jaeo’s crew come by a StarDog?” Jagger eventually inquired.

  “Adini told me Luna was the sole survivor of an Ithian raid on the bio-engineer’s StarDog lab on Carduwa. It happened about six moons before Operation Reset, when Luna was just a tiny StarPup.”