Morgan giggled, buried her face in Cat's neck. "Then I know he won't, `cause he doesn't like to argue with you."
Cat treasured the feel of the girl in her arms. Somehow, she had to return Morgan's father to her.
"READY TO GO back to the ship, Captain?"
"You have no idea." Wulfe `watched' Albright approach him from the doorway of his recovery room on Uhlein. The specialized sensor implants, strategically placed throughout his body, fed information back to a miniature implanted processing unit. He could tell the size, shape, color, texture, even the temperature of an object. Speed, too, if the targeted item moved.
The processed images reminded him of how ancient computer-generated virtual likenesses would have appeared to his forefathers. Albright claimed the system would improve as he adapted. Grateful as he should be for the sensors' capabilities, they could never take the place of organic eyesight. He disliked the bitter thought tainting his attitude. Honor demanded he make the most of the situation Sister Fate handed him.
Determined to justify Space Corps's belief in his abilities, Wulfe stood and squared his shoulders. "Flemming must have spearheaded quite an effort to convince the Corps to go along with this," he voiced his thoughts almost absently, not really expecting a response from the doctor. "Command has always accepted the physically challenged, but an impaired memory is another saga entirely."
"All well and good, Captain, but the Corps and Flemming still would have kept you off active duty for much longer without the assurances and leadership qualities of your w--" Albright made a noise sounding like a cross between a muffled cough and a suppressed stutter, "--first officer."
"One little commander won't change Corps policy, Doctor."
Another muffled sound, this time resembling a choked coughing fit. What, exactly, had Albright so tied into knots?
"Sorry. I must have something in my throat, which is better than a foot in my mouth. You might be surprised, Captain. I realize, due to the unusual circumstances, Commander Culver seems a stranger to you, but give her a chance. You won't be sorry to have her on your side. She went to the bulkhead for you."
"The gods deliver me from a walking, talking piece of salvation." A quick feeling of deja vu rippled through Wulfe, as though he'd heard--no, as if he'd said--similar words once before. "I want to board the Falchion. Now."
"Let's go." Albright accompanied him to his office aboard the Falchion and kept up a running monologue of inane subjects. Once they started the journey from the Falchion's shuttle bay to his office, she turned serious. "Command doesn't know about your amnesia."
"Say again." Wulfe stopped in the corridor, certain he'd heard wrong.
"It was an intentional oversight on Admiral Flemming's part. He enlisted and received Commander Culver's full cooperation."
Wulfe mulled over the implications until they entered his office. "As of the moment you told me about the deception, you officially became part of the conspiracy, too."
Albright brushed aside his warning and breezed out the doorway. Just when he believed he understood Earthers. He posted a message to Commander Culver ordering her to report to him as soon as her duties would allow.
Wulfe sank into the familiar comfort of his office chair. He remembered the sensation well enough, the welcome aroma of aged leather. Comfortable, not too soft.
He grimaced, thinking of the proclivity Earthers had for excessive, pampering softness. They embraced comfort to the point of weakness, touted bland ales, drank lifeless coffees, ate overcooked or synthetic meat, sipped weak teas, produced anemic blood and claimed ambivalent emotions too far removed from anything even resembling passion.
Bah! Earthers. To think his ancient forefathers--even if engineered by design--had sprung and flourished from such feeble stock. Irony at its worst.
Wulfe shifted in his chair. His hand glided over the smooth, worn area of its arm. He adjusted his position again, remembered the feel of his hand on Catherine's slender, feminine shoulder. So delicate. Fragile enough to shatter in only one of his hands. Foolish thought. As if an Earther like her would ever be in his grasp.
Just why had Catherine gone along with Flemming's wild scheme? Did she somehow see a chance for promotion? A court-martial seemed more the case, if she got caught. He cleared his throat. "Computer, service records of Commander Catherine Culver, working backward from current posting."
While he waited for the computer's response, he struggled to forget the exotic scent Catherine wore, a fragrance he'd already come to identify with her alone.
Accessed. Ready.
Wulfe grimaced at the genderless computerized voice. Definitely not sultry or evocative. "Read."
Commander Catherine Culver, assigned as second officer of the SCFS Falchion, twelfth month of 3163. Rank of Commander, executive assistant to Commodore Phillips, research and testing, sixth month, 3163. Lieutenant Commander, second in command at Station--
"Stop." She'd been assigned to a commodore? That type of prize assignment didn't come along every day. "List service awards, if any, first to most recent."
Medallion of Bravery, Mallochon Uprising, 3156. Level Ten Status in Communications, 3157. Level Nine Status in Xenobiology, 3158. Flight Wreath of Excellence, 3159. Membership, Engineering Design Review Board, 3160. Medal of Honor, 3161. League of Unified Worlds Peace Award, 3162. Cluster of Distinction for negotiating--
"Stop." He'd been right. A walking piece of salvation. Did she make the Sacred Desert Sands part, too? "Locate the commander's educational and personal files."
Born on Earth, eighth day of the eighth month, 3133. One younger sister. Both parents deceased. Single mother of two, a boy and a girl, father or fathers unknown or unlisted. Graduated top two percent of Space Corps Academy, 3155, with double major in communication and xenobiology, a minor in ship engine design. Recommended for--
"Stop." He had graduated the year before Catherine--the first Fullblood Bellon ever to attend the academy--with majors in engineering and the full range of quantum theories. Could he have seen her there? He surely hadn't spoken with her. He would have recalled that magnificent, sultry voice. "Aye, I'd remember."
Do you require further information? If so, rephrase.
"Hold." Wulfe rested his elbows on the desk, considered all the information provided by the computer. A double major and a minor? "Doesn't this female do anything wrong?"
Rephrase question.
"Any reprimands or disciplinary actions on record?"
Demoted from Lieutenant Commander to Lieutenant for insubordination; rank reinstated when superior officer found derelict in duty, 3162. Charged with striking a superior officer, charges dismissed, 3161. Served two months in a Space Corps brig for going AWOL, returned to duty with no further prejudice, 3160. Assigned to sickbay duty as a one month reprimand for--
"AWOL?" Commander Efficiency had gone AWOL? She'd struck a superior officer? A regular little hellcat." Wulfe laughed aloud, throwing his head back in genuine amusement.
Rephrase.
"Cancel." So the little deli' wasn't the perfect officer she seemed to be. Capable, strong-willed and talented, but a wicked temper reminiscent of his own Bellon roots. Catherine might work out as his executive officer yet, once he took her in hand. A firm lesson here, a solid example there. The first glimmer of anticipation he'd felt since awakening sent a little thrill through his midsection and then, unexpectedly, on down to his groin. He straightened, adjusted his uniform trousers and named the reaction nothing more than an anomaly.
Wulfe tapped his fingers against the edge of the desk. Gods, but it felt good to be back on his own ship, in his own office. Familiarity that should soothe the roughest edges of restlessness. He needed to do something to cut through the growing disquiet. No matter how much information the computer provided him, he couldn't shake the feeling something was missing.
He could always have the audio portions of the logs linked through to his comm tag while he walked. Wulfe pushed away from the desk. Time to inspect his
ship, stem to stern, bowels to bridge. Time to see what damage this female had done to his pride and joy during his absence.
The gods pity her if she'd overstepped the boundaries.
Chapter 6
WULFE ALLOWED the processed images of his artificial vision to flood his brain. Upon his return, the trip through the Falchion with Albright helped to acclimate him to the implanted sensors. Now he found himself capable of maintaining his normal gait. No amount of adaptation prepared him for what he found, though.
The majority of loose wreckage had either been removed from the Falchion or recycled--overseen by Commander Efficiency, no doubt. The resulting breaches between decks and gaps in the bulkheads of the cruiser made him realize firsthand how many more people could have died as a result of the Mallochon attack.
The Creator had protected hundreds. Blessings among the grief. He searched for a way to use his simmering anger against the Mallochons and not allow the rage to rule him.
He took a deep breath to strengthen himself for the work ahead. If Corps Command believed him capable of doing the job--whether or not they knew the entire truth--he didn't intend to let them down. He'd do his utmost to stop the Mallochons from killing more people, even entire worlds as was their wont.
He wouldn't disappoint the first Space Corps officer who accepted him unconditionally--Roy Flemming. Roy wouldn't have to question his choice to take a green Bellon ensign and teach him the realities of life in the Space Corps so many years ago. The good and the harsh. Nor would the old admiral have reason to doubt his decision to leave him as captain of the Falchion now.
Wulfe strode further along the corridor to the next section, yet another scientific research sector turned over to warfare preparations.
Three figures moved toward him around the interior curve of the ship's corridor. Pieces of memory merged with artificial likenesses until he recognized the largest individual as Mykal Lyon. A shorter, lean-bodied form mobilized by precise, economical movements belonged to Nora Albright. The third, little more than child height, trim and graceful, held no familiarity for him. His mind remained a blank, but his body--
The exotic, arousing scent reached him on the corridor's air currents. Reaction, hard and savage, blasted through his body, shocked him with its intensity. Simply from Catherine's perfume. Gods, he'd been without a woman too long.
"Good to have you aboard, Captain." Lyon's words, typically short and to the point, reached him first.
"I believe you wanted me, Captain?" Catherine's husky voice caught his immediate attention.
Yes! his body screamed of its own accord. Wulfe snapped his mouth shut to trap the response he'd nearly spoken so thoughtlessly. The little Earther wouldn't appreciate ribald Bellon humor. Nargging wonderful; now he even had to monitor his words in front of his own first officer. "Ah, yes, the message that I needed to see you. I studied the ship's logs from the last day or so. You've done a decent job."
Her left brow arched upward. "I'm glad you agree with the decisions I've made."
"I didn't say that, Commander." Too sure of herself.
"Any choice in particular with which you don't concur?"
A grin tugged at the corner of Wulfe's mouth when one of his sensors told him Catherine's temperature rose a couple of degrees. Temper, temper. Her increased body heat intensified the erotic scent of the perfume she wore. "You arranged to have the male and female pilots bunked in separate quarters, for one."
"Aye, I did, Captain."
"Bellon warriors house with their comrades."
"I know, but they're part of Space Corps now, aren't they?"
"True, but--"
"The refitting is nearly done. To change the plans at this point would only put us behind schedule."
Wulfe gritted his teeth. She seemed to have an answer for everything. "The schedule is the second area of disagreement."
"Oh, really." Her eyebrow went a fraction higher. "Why?"
"The pilots, tech crews and fighters should never have been dispatched until the fighter bay had been completed."
"I disagree. I've made arrangements with Uhlein to temporarily berth those we can't accommodate immediately. The full squadron won't be flying at the same time for a few days."
"Why the narg not?"
Catherine crossed her arms over her upper body, the movement fluid and somehow...familiar. "I have a few surprises ready for those poor, unsuspecting pilots you're so worried about."
"Commander, trust me when I say those pilots will have more than a few eye openers in store for you."
"Nothing those Bellons can do will shock me, Captain."
"You don't comprehend what an entire squadron of Bellons can be like." Must she be so obstinate? So defiant?
"You don't understand what I can be like, Captain."
"I'm beginning to believe that."
"Didn't I say you'd be your old self before you knew it, Captain?" Albright interrupted, projecting a forced, typically Earther cheerfulness no doubt meant to be encouraging.
Instead, her enthusiasm sent a twinge right through the side of his skull. "And just when is that likely to happen, Doctor? Have you determined when I will see again?"
Catherine moved lightning-fast, surprising him by being brave enough to confront him. She stood so close he'd trample her if he so much as moved any other direction but backward, something he flat-out refused to do. Honor would not allow him to retreat, especially before such a little--little snip of an Earther. A female Earther, at that.
"Maybe you'll regain your vision when you're done feeling sorry for yourself," Catherine accused. She poked him in the middle of his chest with a stiff forefinger. "Grieve for the families who lost loved ones or friends during the attack, but do not lament your own loss. You bloody well would not abide such self-pity from any other crew member on this ship."
Catherine sidestepped and moved past him like a tiny but powerful whirlwind. As she disappeared around the corridor's curve, the long, thick braid of hair swung against the back of her knees. He heard her mutter, "Bloody damn fool."
Wulfe let out a low whistle. "Now that is a hot temper."
"Um, Captain, I'm sure Catherine didn't mean that the way it sounded. I--"
Wulfe shook his head. "I hope she did, Doctor. She's right. I wouldn't tolerate such behavior from others."
"The commander has been carrying a massive workload, Captain," Lyon added with a note of defensiveness.
"And doing so quite well, from what I've been able to ascertain. Relax. I don't plan on jettisoning her out an airlock. Not yet, anyway. And what about you, Mykal? You've been working hard, yourself."
"Duty has definitely taken priority lately."
"We could probably both use an exercise session. I doubt sleep is in the near future for either of us." His Bellon need to relieve stress with strenuous physical exertion had surfaced the moment he'd awakened. Once the flight crews arrived, he'd have a new assortment of combat partners. Wulfe looked forward to that, but he'd rely upon the able Lyon for now.
Albright slapped her palms together. "That is the perfect prescription for both of you. Only wish I had thought of it."
"Captain, allow me a quarter of an hour, and I will meet you in the arboretum," Lyon suggested.
"Done. Doctor, I have an assignment for you." Wulfe waited until Lyon left before continuing. "Your finesse is required."
"Of course, Captain."
"Have a talk with Commander Culver. Explain to her that while I know the females of Earth have the tendency to wear artificial scent--do not take this personally, Doctor--I sincerely believe wearing perfume when we're within a sword stroke of entering war is...unnecessary and distracting."
Distracting? What a nargging understatement. The scent triggered ancient, driving reactions in his body and mind better left alone. Now, if he ever found a Bellon female whose body created that scent naturally...Creator, he'd lock the bonding chains around her so fast....
"Perfume?"
"Is the du
ty too difficult for you, Doctor?"
"What? No, Sir! Not at all. I'll see to the matter before I retire for the evening."
THWARTED AGAIN by her fruitless efforts to recreate the bond with Garrett, Cat sighed. She finally forced herself to accept the inevitability of sending the children away before she accomplished the link. She'd hoped to reconnect with Garrett before then, but the safety of the little ones remained a priority.
Once Garrett and Morgan settled in for the night, Cat used a secured communication channel to insure her sister's help regarding moving the children to safety. After receiving a brief explanation of what had happened, Cass promised to come to Uhlein for Garrett and Morgan.
A wave of sadness and resentful self-pity wound through Cat. She recognized the feelings for what they were, but, damn, she had to get a grip on her emotions. Or, at the very least, her outward responses. She'd allowed her anger at the Mallochons and the crisis they'd created to rule her reactions. Her words to Wulfe in the corridor could have done irreparable harm, and she would not allow that to happen.
It hadn't been enough for the Mallochons to try to kill her, or to actually succeed in kidnapping her parents. Now they'd endangered her husband and children. And, not content with the worlds their malevolent Imperium already controlled or annihilated, they kept reaching out for more planets to crush, more people to destroy. Well, she'd do her part to stop the Mallochons, any way she could.
To that end, Cat turned her mental energies to work on the problem Space Corps labored to solve: find or duplicate a suitable source of fuel for the newly engineered shrouding devices.
Several months before, Covert Ops found a crashed Mallochon ship. Unknown to the Mallochons or even the main section of Space Corps, Covert retrieved the shrouding device. First, Covert reverse engineered the one taken from the Mallochons and produced more devices. Then they secretly fitted the equipment to Cass's ship, mainly because the Moon Maiden was the right size and mass, but also because Cass could keep a secret better than a tight-lipped Syllogian.
Devoted Deceptions, A 4th Millennium Adventure, Book 3 Page 8
