by Autumn Dawn
Jaide blew his comments off with a shrug. “Not here. I’m as susceptible to nagging as anyone.”
Rolling her eyes, Sesame discarded and drew another card. “As if. I don’t know how many times I’ve nagged you to give up your more destructive habits.” She threw Jaide’s tea mug an ironic look. “Case in point.”
“As if you’re such a sterling example,” Jaide retorted, taking a pointed drink. “At least I leave the shop and come up for air now and then. Your lover, my friend, is your work.”
Sesame took another card. Without changing expression, she asked, “And yours would be?”
Jaide’s eyes glittered. “Cold, hard cash.” As if to prove her point, she won that hand.
Disdaining to play with real money, the men used colored glass stones and markers for unpopular chores, assigning them to the loser of that hand. The loser could only return the marker to the pot if he won a hand, gifting the marker to the vanquished of that round. It was an amusing way of assigning duties, and surprisingly democratic of Nemesis to take part.
Jaide suppressed a smile at the thought of the Admiral bent over a toilet, scrubbing. Now that was a worthy cause!
Nemesis caught the mischievous look passed between the women as Lore showed them the marker for latrine duty. “I wouldn’t be too hopeful of seeing me win that,” he guessed aloud, baiting them. “Women are notorious for their lack of skill with numbers.”
With a snort of amusement Sesame tossed back, “Odd that you would worry about that after letting me run calculus all over your precious ship.” Her sideways glance was snake-eye sly. “No telling what I might have done to it.”
He didn’t even look at her as he requested and discarded a card. “Nothing that will make me toss you out an airlock, I’m sure.”
Sesame’s eyes narrowed.
Uncomfortable with the tense silence, Lore said, “I looked up your stats, Ms. Calais. Is it true you developed the technology for anti-asteroid maneuvers?” he asked, referring to the program and hair-trigger thrusters that allowed ships to successfully navigate an asteroid field. It was more often used by injured pilots in battle, though as rarely as possible.
It had the tendency to leave even seasoned pilots feeling like a scrambled egg.
She smirked at her cards. “You wouldn’t sound so excited about it if you’d ever experienced it, trust me. I thought my brain would never quit spinning after the first test flight.”
“Your brain?” Jaide scowled over her cards. “I was the one puking up my guts for the next hour, thank you very much.”
“You wanted to fly it,” Sesame pointed out.
“Only because I knew what a lousy pilot you are,” came the sweet reply.
Fascinated, Lore leaned forward. Light glittered off his earring. “Have you flown all the ships you’ve worked on? The big star cruisers, too?”
Sesame grunted. “Not me. Never wanted to. I’m an augmenter, not a pilot. Flying bores me to tears. Every time I’m at the controls my mind starts wandering off to my latest project. It’s a great way to brainstorm but a lousy way to fly. In fact, that’s why I developed the anti-asteroid program, to cover my butt.” She nodded at Jaide. “Flying is her department.”
Nemesis glanced at the still silent Skye. “Have you flown all the ships, Jaide?”
A wave of her hand dismissed the subject as trivial. “Most of them.”
“You must be quite a pilot,” he said expectantly, with another look at Skye.
“I do all right.”
“All right?” Sesame’s eyes opened wide. “You do awesome! Name me one pilot who’s out-raced you in the Canyon Jam Run on Tantalus since you hit twenty-one,” she dared. Smiling at Jaide’s bright flush of embarrassment, she bragged to their intent audience, “Jaide races every year on her birthday. This year will be her twenty-fourth birthday and my money says she’ll have another undefeated year.” Her eyes unfocused as she smiled in fond remembrance. “That’s how we got hooked up. I saw her race when she was twenty. I figured anyone who could fly like that would make a good test pilot.” Bitter memory darkened her eyes. “She would have taken that race, too, if it hadn’t been for V.B. Trell.”
“Leave it, Ses.” Jaide’s hands clenched around her cards, bent them. She’d never explained the full extent of the bad blood between her and Trell, and she wasn’t about to start now. Not with four very interested sets of strange ears listening. The sooner the subject dropped, the better.
Sesame ignored her. Incensed on her behalf, she leaned forward, arguing, “Your ship was smashed and they had to cut your body out with torches. I know you couldn’t prove Trell caused the wreck, but you could have at least—”
“I said leave it!” Scared that Sesame had said too much, upset at the reminder of that awful day, Jaide tossed down her cards. In her haste to leave she forgot to release the magnetism on her chair and slammed her legs on the edge of the table. She cursed as she dropped back down into her seat. A muffled groan escaped her as she cradled her head on the cushion of her forearm, which rested on the offending tabletop. With the other she held her bruised thighs, waiting for the pain to lessen.
“Are you all right?” Sesame asked, leaning over the table to look at her with a worried expression.
“Peachy,” came the muffled reply. Jaide heard the click of magnetism releasing just before gentle hands eased her back.
Concern in his face, Skye asked, “Would you like me to take a look at that? Nothing personal,” he added with a whisper of pained humor. “I’m the ship’s medic, among other things. I can give you something for the bruising.”
Conflicting emotions skewered her. Jaide didn’t want him to be nice. It only made her earlier actions more reprehensible, and she didn’t need any more burdens. The rat of guilt had already gnawed a big enough hole in her gut. “I’m fine.”
“If you were fine he wouldn’t have asked,” Sesame snapped, impatient with Jaide’s stubbornness. “Let the man have a look. You know how easily you bruise.” When Jaide opened her mouth to object further, Sesame narrowed her eyes. “Let him help you or I’ll dump your entire stash of Seti down the disposal.”
Jaide huffed, outraged. Sesame would, too, and be glad for the excuse. “Fine,” she snapped and stalked out of the galley.
Too bad her magnificent exit was marred by a pronounced limp.
Skye tailed her to the infirmary, wondering about the things he’d heard tonight. Jaide put up a tough front, but melted under the irrepressible affection of his pet. She was modest about her accomplishments, and he couldn’t help but wonder at her supposed skill. As one of the best pilots in the Draconian colony, he had to wonder how she’d fare against him. He’d known what Nemesis was trying to do by drawing out that information. Nothing thrilled like a little competition, and Nemesis still thought Skye interested in the human.
Of course, he hadn’t been privy to the little scene in engineering.
“Here.” Skye handed Jaide a thin sheet. “Take off your pants and drape this over your lap. I’ll be just outside the door. Call me when you’re done.” Ignoring her look of surprise, he stepped into the hall. It only took a moment before she called him back in.
One look at the bruises darkening on her thighs and he hissed in sympathy. “She wasn’t exaggerating, was she?” he said, handing her leg with clinical care. “You’re certainly not commando material.”
His hands might be clinical, but Jaide’s body didn’t know it. Wondering at the source of her trembling, since she’d made her distaste of him crystal clear, he reached for a healing accelerator.
“It’s not my fault!” she snapped, catching him off guard. Pausing in mid-reach, he tilted his head in inquiry.
Chagrined at her outburst, she looked aside. “I do well enough,” she said more quietly. For a moment she paused, as if she wanted to say more. When she didn’t, he retrieved the tube of creme and carefully spread it on her legs. Jaide hissed and jerked at his light touch. Looking absolutely miserable, weepy even, sh
e mumbled, “I can do that.”
Through being insulted for one night, he paused and pinned her with a look. “I’m sorry if my touch upsets you, Ms. Calanarre, but you’ll just have to suffer my Draconian hands until something better comes along. My apologies,” he said, widening his eyes in mockery.
Her gaze dropped, turned dull. “It’s not your blood,” she whispered.
Slanting her a jaundiced look, he wondered if she thought that an improvement. “Ah. So pleased to know it’s only myself you object to.” Without thinking, he slid his hand higher on her thigh, maintaining his balance with the lightest of touches as he applied the clear gel.
A tortured moan escaped her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away as if in great pain.
Skye paused. “Did that hurt?” he asked, thinking he might be using too much pressure.
“Yes!” she quickly agreed, her eyes flitting about the room, avoiding his face.
Suspicion kindled, he kept his eyes on her, waiting until she was forced to look at him. Her chagrined color said it all.
Without a word he returned to his task, finishing moments later. “You can get dressed now,” he told her, his expression never changing.
Outside the infirmary, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Closing his eyes, he considered the puzzling woman inside.
She wanted him but didn’t want him to know. Why? Cultural or personal? Earlier she’d as much as said she had no lover, so it wasn’t that. Was it his reputation? Did she believe the press stories about tortured prisoners and mangled bodies?
Well, the mangled bodies part was true. Nemesis wasn’t above killing an armed and resisting criminal who was wanted dead or alive; none of them were. Even though their methods might be efficient, he had to admit they didn’t leave pretty corpses.
“We don’t torture prisoners.”
Jaide looked up at the enigmatic medic. Even leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, he radiated sexual magnetism. “What?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
Skye shook his head and straightened. “Never mind, bonbon.”
That set her off. A muscle ticked in her jaw. She was getting very tired of that tag. “That’s not my name, Drac.”
His mouth twitched. “Would you prefer something more romantic? I’ll make you a deal, bonbon; you tell me your real name and I’ll use that instead.”
So that was his game. Very well, she’d withdraw, but not without a parting shot. Turning on her heel, she tossed over her shoulder, “Fine then. Call me what you like. I’ve been called worse by better, Skye.”
If she knew men-and she did-she thought as she entered the hall with a dry smile, the insult coupled with the concession of his proper name would paralyze his brain long enough for her to make a clean getaway.
“Jaide?”
Her stride hitched as she stiffened, then shot a wary glance over her shoulder. Skye had unfolded from the wall and was watching her with the barest of satisfied smiles. “What?”
“It’s an improvement.” With an audacious wink, he turned and strode in the opposite direction.
Sesame scowled at the jumble of wiring before her, and Jaide couldn’t blame her. Instead of the neatly coded and ordered lines that should have been behind the access panel, wires in odd shades ran every which way. Worse, they were marked with sticker tags scrawled with-what else-Draconian script.
“So much for finishing this job in record time,” Jaide muttered. She needed some tea.
Clamping down on her temper, which was exceedingly foul after last night’s stupidity, she left the panel open and headed for the galley, Sesame right behind her. The expression on her face boded ill for anyone stupid enough to get in her way.
But Jaide wasn’t worried about that. She was far too busy with her mental flogging over last night’s fiasco. How could she have let her body betray her? It shouldn’t even have been possible, not with the measures she took to prevent it. Why did it have to happen now, with Skye?
Besides, hadn’t she learned anything from her brother’s friends? Friendly men were dangerous men.
She smiled grimly. Ah, yes. Someday she had to thank Chrys properly for the many referrals he’d sent her way to help her pay off “her” debts.
A boot to the head would be a good start.
Jaide had no more than retrieved a mug when lightning struck.
She watched as Sesame found her victim in the middle of breakfast, poised to take a bite out of something resembling orange fish roe on a steamed potato. “Your ship’s wiring system isn’t standard,” she informed Nemesis in dour tones. “It’s as jumbled as a whore’s mores and twice as gaudy. I can’t figure out positive from negative in there.”
“Caviar?” he asked, offering her his bite. She stared at it, no doubt unable to comprehend his interest in dining-not to mention his taste in morning meals-when his ship was a mess. When she continued to stare, he shrugged and popped the disgusting mass into his own mouth.
Jaide shuddered.
“It works just fine,” Quadril made the mistake of defending his handiwork. “We’ve never had a problem with it.”
“It’s wrong,” Sesame snapped, wiping the complacent expression off his face and replacing it with fury. “And it’s going to slow me down. Not only do I not read Draconian, I’m not about to waste my time learning just so I can fix your screw ups. I want it retagged, in standard, today. I’ll also need a diagram of what’s what in there in the hopes of avoiding electrocution.” She narrowed her eyes. “Electrical burns are not my favorite thing.”
There was a moment of crackling silence. Jaide was very quiet as she retrieved her small tea tin from her pocket, sprinkling a pinch of the fine powder into her cup. This was not a scene she wanted to be a part of.
“Do it, Quadril,” Nemesis said without taking his eyes off Sesame. Quadril started to protest, but a single hard glance silenced him. Then his molten eyes returned to Sesame, sending a chill of unease to her heart. “I don’t know what treatment you’ve received in the past, Ms. Calais, but I will warn you this once; you are not a prima Dona, and I will not tolerate this spoiled behavior.” She started to open her mouth, but he continued on in that same chilling tone, “You will not interrupt my meals with your demands. Any requests you have will be delivered politely, minus the insults.”
Acid burned in Jaide’s empty stomach at her friend’s public set down. True, she had come on a bit harsh, but he didn’t need to be such a jerk about it.
Not giving an inch, Sesame tossed down her gauntlet. “I honor my contracts, Captain Spectere,” she said, emphasizing his name in mockery. Green eyes glittering with challenge, she added, “Do you?”
Every muscle rigid, Nemesis stared at her, nostrils flaring. “Explain yourself.”
A couple of quick keystrokes on her tablet brought up her contract, which she turned so he could see.
For a moment he just glared at the screen. Slowly his gaze came up, full of carefully contained temper. “Very well, Miss Calais,” he said, affecting a lazy drawl that just barely veiled his ire. “Far be it from me to break contract.” Relaxing back in his chair, he waved a careless hand. “By all means, feel free to insult my crew and any passing dignitaries you might see while in my employ. After all, who am I to insist on a little common courtesy?”
Jaide winced. Put like that.…
Without another word, Sesame pivoted and stalked out of the galley.
The worst of it was, he was right.
Jaide finished her preparations, then took her mug and followed her partner, a troubled frown on her face. Nemesis couldn’t know what forces shaped a woman like Sesame.
Jaide did. All too well.
All her life she’d been an outsider, looking in. Until her late teens, it had been her enormous weight and shy personality that made her a target of contempt, until she’d learned to withdraw into books and data banks, or to hide out in her father’s garage, drowning her sorrow in tinkering. It might have conti
nued on that way indefinitely had her secret passion for a schoolmate not come to his attention, thanks to a dropped poem dedicated to him and signed with her name.
To save face with his friends, he’d tormented her about it, telling her that a fat, ugly pig like her would never find anyone willing to “stick it to her”. He’d effectively killed her love for him and turned her feelings for her body, already low, into vicious self-loathing. She’d dropped the weight, and that very day she’d started to drink Seti tea, a passion suppressant, which she still used.
Her body would never betray her again.
Entering the engine room, she leaned a hip on a tool chest, silently watching Sesame organize the ship’s tools, banging them around and tossing them into drawers.
They were so much alike, Jaide reflected, sipping her drink, watching her friend through the veil of steam. For a long time now she’d had the habit of creating a negative space around herself, of pushing others away before she could be excluded. As a defensive strategy it worked just fine, but like Sesame, she’d become a rude snapping turtle, chomping the toes of others and retreating into her own world when threatened in return.
Still, she had reasons for presenting her quills. Too many times to count she’d had men take the slightest bit of warmth on her part and interpret it as a go ahead for unwelcome sexual advances. It hadn’t taken long to learn that the freeze treatment dried up their drive a lot faster than gentle, or even vigorous, rebukes on her part. Even though it might go against her true nature, Jaide rebelled against dropping her learned shields. Skye had already dared too much, and she had a feeling that the man could be tenacious if he ever decided to make chase.
Protestations of disinterest aside.
For just a moment, her psyche sent a blip of protest, quickly squelched. So what if Skye was incredibly handsome? It didn’t matter. That was no reason to possibly encourage any interest he might have. She didn’t need a man in her life. Never had. Never would.
