Touch of Danger (Three Worlds)

by Strickland, Carol A.

  It was all homey if slightly military, but… “It needs some outside light,” Lina suggested as she walked in small arcs so she could see everything. White walls with the occasional abstract black stripe did tend to be oppressive.

  Lon grunted and then said to the air, “Computer, window view of…Saturn, from Mimas.”

  Instantly great windows stretched from ceiling to floor along every wall. It seemed they were high over the canyons of a frozen moon. A spectacular Saturn hung on the horizon, her rings almost vertical.

  Lina jumped and clapped her hands to her mouth. She spun to face Lon. “Holy shit!” She laughed. “That's amazing!”

  Lon sauntered cockily toward her, very sure of himself now. “This is Mega-Legion HQ,” he explained. “The outer perimeter has to be constructed of solid impervion for defense purposes. Windows would be a weakness. We have viewscreens instead.” He slid his arm around her waist and felt her arch her back against him. “Want to see the bedroom now? If you remember, we've never had sex on a real mattress. That might be amusing.”

  “I would like to see the bedroom. And kitchen, and whatever else you have here. That's what a tour usually entails, isn't it? And I assume you have the facilities here to take a shower. All this medicine gunk makes me feel filthy. I can’t seem to get clean.”

  “I know what you mean. I could handle another shower.” He pulled her closer, capturing her gaze with his.

  But her will was just as strong. “Alone. I want a warm shower. You need a long, hot soak to get rid of some of those aches and pains.”

  “I won't feel the heat.”

  “Maybe you're just a little more vulnerable now than you think you are. I never heard of any invulnerable guys feeling like they needed to take an aspirin.”

  “You're one hell of a nosy psychic.”

  “If you won't pay attention to what your own body's telling you—”

  “Oh, I know what my body's telling me.” His eyes danced with hers. “C'mon, Lina.” He made it into a soft song. “C'mon, Lina. C'mon, Lina.”

  He was being silly, and she couldn't help herself from grinning at him. Just the same, she pushed away. “Let's finish the tour. And then I'll get that shower.”

  “You'll just need another one afterward. I was planning on a long, sticky session. We'll have to change the sheets at least twice.” He ran his finger along the line of her shoulder blade, considering. “No, we'll finish off with a bath for two, with bubbles and champagne.” With an approving nod to himself for his plan, they moved on.

  Lon's kitchen was of surprisingly humble proportions. It was too small even to be called a kitchenette.

  “Why prepare meals in your room when you can use the Legion cafeteria?” Londo said. “It's open 20 hours a day.”

  “Twenty—”

  “Sarastor's day has 20 hours. It's the equivalent of about 27 Terran hours.”

  Next stop was his private trophy room. There was an official one somewhere else in the building, but this was for “just a few personal things,” though the room was the size of a modest shoe store and crammed with spotlit displays.

  He pointed out some oddities: a puck from last year's Stanley Cup semi-final with signatures of the entire winning Canadiens team. A mannequin wearing his original costume, the spandex-and-cape classic parahero design that had lasted with a few variations until he'd entered college. A fishing pole that Maximus had given him on their first vacation together, that he'd broken because he couldn't control his strength yet.

  “The dress is going in here,” he told her and then snapped his fingers. “Zut! I forgot—” He touched his ring. “Wiley!”

  Wiley's voice came from the ring as if he were standing here with them. “No, you do not have my permission to have sex.”

  “Yes, yes, you frickurn, no sex yet. My vest. You haven't trashed it, have you?”

  “It's still here somewhere. I assumed you had a storage room worth of items in it that you'd want to transfer to the new one, so I haven't given it to the kol-vanasche.”

  “Bon. It's got something very valuable in it. Do not dispose of it. Rand out.” Londo grimaced over the now-silent ring. “Aw marde, now he's going to look. Wiley's got five times the curiosity of a normal person. He's only cataloged my vest three hundred times already. And Jae'll probably put something vile in it just so I can find it.”

  “Don't worry,” Lina reassured him. “I'll beat them up for you if they even smudge the leather.”

  She put her arms around him and they continued the tour. A dining room of impressive size. A small conference room, of all things, big enough to hold six people comfortably around a table. A receiving room.

  “What do you receive?”

  He shrugged vaguely. “It's for official parties. You know.” But she didn't, not at all.

  There were even more rooms, including two guest rooms, but nothing like the master bedroom. That was big, even palatial; spacious and hollow. Crammed bookcases lined two walls. His bed was larger than a kingsize, and a guitar sat on a plain chair next to it. Yet with all that, three-quarters of the room sat empty.

  “You need something else,” she said, trying not to make it sound critical. “A table with pictures on it. Maybe a little seating arrangement for fourteen. And a grand piano.”

  “Maybe a woman in here,” he said softly. “You figure out what I need and I'll get it, Lina. Imagine whatever you want, and I'll make sure it's here for you.” He took her hand and gazed into her eyes. “You'll like Sarastor. It's…it's better than Star Trek.”

  He'd caught her by surprise. “As if you'd know,” she said automatically, but pondered his invitation for her to return. Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful!

  “So when we get home I'll watch and we can compare. And then we can come back and you can tell me how great this place is.”

  “Lon, I…” Her gaze seemed so helpless. “When I've had a chance to think about it, I thought that you would just, well, visit me whenever you wanted.”

  “You'll be back here.” Lon's smile was the warmest there was. “Don't worry about that. I want you to—” He suddenly perked up, his eyes unfocusing instead of sharpening. “Do you feel that?”

  Lina could sense something too. She went over to the far wall of the room and touched it. “What is it? Is someone listening?”

  Lon had to concentrate as he looked through the wall. Impervion was difficult to see through, but he could see a shadow there, enough to guess. “Puter,” he said. “I want to send a verbal message to Neuron in her bedroom. English to Lingua.”

  Two beeps of acknowledgment.

  “Deegel, can you quote me regs on privacy in quarters?”

  “Lon!” A sweet, feminine voice sounded flustered. “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean. Do I have to build a Neuron-proof wall? I'm sure I can figure one out.”

  “And I'm sure I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about. Are you out of quarantine now?”

  “No, I am not. We'll have to flush out my quarters when we leave.”

  “Don't expect me to come over there.”

  “We hope you don't. You'll just get infected, probably come down with some kind of horrible, disfiguring disease—you know how Earzh is.”

  The woman's voice contained a shudder of revulsion. “I'll be sure to stay away. And I'll remind Aiko, too.”

  Londo's right hand made a fist. “You should tell everyone that, not just Aiko. I'm sure they'll all understand.”

  “You may want to check the betting boards, Lon. There's a lot of action on them these days.”

  “Rand out,” Londo snapped.

  Lina watched him. “Ah, the problems of apartment living,” she said lightly to diffuse the mood. “Neighbors.”

  Londo nodded at the wall. “Deegel's a Legionnaire. Her para name's Neuron. She's got a little trick she can do where she touches something and transfers physical sensations.”

  “How handy that she's right next door,” Lina sa
id archly. “Next bedroom down.”

  “You'll notice that my bed doesn't touch the wall. And the legs are on insulators.”

  Lina had to laugh as he bent down to show her the clear disks under each leg. “Oh dear,” she chuckled. “She's really causing you some problems, isn't she?”

  “She's a royal pain.”

  “And Aiko? She's Orenya, right?” Lina tried to make it sound casual, but Lon's glance at her was sharp.

  “I told you that I had experimented with women…”

  “Deegel?”

  He frowned. “I had a weak moment once. Once. Makes me ashamed to think about it. She said that she thought she could—”

  “But she couldn't.”

  “She keeps telling me that she's figured it out now. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

  And what if she had? This Deegel was another Legionnaire, a celebrity like Londo. Like the very famous, very beautiful Aiko. “That's okay, Lon. And you don't have to tell me any more about Aiko.” To fight the urge to freeze in her uncertainty, she began to walk around the room. Make it look like she was considering decor.

  Lon said, “Aiko was before I met you, remember that.”

  “Heck, we just met.” What was it Jae had said? They don't come more famous than Aiko.

  “And I'm just reminding you of that. Aiko and I have been friends for a very long time. Not as long as Jae and me, but long enough.”

  She couldn't stand not knowing. She blurted, “Are you still just friends? Or are you closer than that? For real, Londo. Should I back off and give you two space?”

  In a flash Lon crossed the room and took her by the arms. “Don't you think that for a second! You're the most important woman in my life! Aiko knows that we can never be lovers. She has real lovers of her own. It's just that we get together every now and then for— She takes pity on me. She humors me.”

  “She probably doesn't do either,” Lina said softly. It sounded like a practical match. Even more so, Aiko was a woman Lon had been attracted to even though they couldn't have sex.

  But Lina's heart clenched at the thought. Lord, let her have a little more time with Londo before she had to give him up! “You'll need to talk with her, Londo. Is she telepathic?”

  “No. She's very strong and damned near invulnerable. But she couldn't do what we do.”

  “But she's more than a friend.” Lina turned from him, and saw another door. She opened it just to think of anything else. “If we're going to—” Suddenly she began to laugh. “Ohmigosh!” She tried to control herself, but the laughter burbled underneath her words. “Do you have enough?”

  In the closet hung at least thirty of his uniforms: thirty black vests, thirty pairs of black faux leather pants, thirty pairs of black boots, and drawers in which she could easily imagine thirty finely-brocaded gray striped shirts neatly stacked. Some others came in non-standard colors: stark black and white, all-blue, magenta…

  Londo scowled. “I have to keep a few variations of my costume for special occasions. And even my clothes can get torn—you should know that. It takes a hell of a long time to replicate the fibers. I get dirty when I work hard. I don't like wearing filthy clothing all day.”

  “I'm—hee hee—sorry.” Lina put her hand over her mouth. “For a minute it just looked like a shrine to Valiant.” She giggled to herself and shut the door, looking for something else to change the subject. “I didn't think paraheroes played musical instruments,” she finally decided to say, pointing at the guitar.

  “I do.”

  Even without the additional mutters she could tell she'd pushed the wrong button with him. Her comments about the closet echoed within his mind, answered with something about Normals not understanding his life, laundry taking too damned long, and by god he wasn't all that different from others, was he? He did not have a huge ego. Why did everyone keep telling him that he did?

  “I happen to be damned good,” he finished, his mouth still discussing the guitar.

  “You're damned good at everything, honey. Okay. More books,” she said as she paused to read the spines and let him cool down. To judge from the selection, Lon's interests ran to adventure, architecture, sailing, and the children's books she already knew about.

  On top of the bookcase were some photographs. One, she realized with a start, was of Maximus in civilian clothing, tank top and shorts, waving from the deck of a sailboat. Another showed a middle-aged Black couple, smiling into the camera. Those must be Lon's “Mama Ruth” and “Papa Mike,” his adoptive grandparents.

  There was also a 3-D shot of Maximus, Lon and Jae, all in uniform and looking very buddy-buddy. Heroes. Celebrities. Part of a reality that didn't include Muttbutts.

  “You have good maid service here,” she told him and hoped that he couldn't detect the quaver in her voice. “No dust anywhere.”

  Lon relaxed at that and led her to a utility closet next to the guest bathroom. Like the inside of spaceship, blinking lights and banks of info screens lit when he opened the door. He explained some of the processes: laundry facilities, automatic housekeeping equipment that he called a kol-vanasche (that pancake thing), and so forth.

  Lina nodded in awe at it all. This tiny room freed his time so he could concentrate on the important things in life. “I'll take two of each,” she declared.

  “You'd have to keep them here,” he explained. “This kind of technology is forbidden on Earzh.”

  “Ah. Prime Directive stuff.”

  “Quoi?”

  “Star Trek. The Prime Directive orders non-interference with existing cultures.”

  He thought and nodded his head slowly. “D'accord. Star Trek. Do you realize that you're living in a fantasy world?”

  She gazed happily at the equipment blinking in front of her. “I certainly do,” she said with a sigh.

  He laughed and, choosing the safe spots to hold, picked her up under one arm like a bag of laundry so she'd screech. “Earzh to Lina. Pardon: Sarastor to Lina. Coming back to reality now. Please make sure your seat belts are fastened. We're running into a little turbulence on reentry.”

  He bounced her up and down as he walked back into the living room, enjoying the litany of mild curses she spouted, and then flung her on the couch. He showed her how the solid black coffee table could turn into a state-of-Sarastoran-art communications panel, how a tri-D mini-stage would appear if you commanded it with the correct gesture.

  Just for now, Lina decided to ignore all the new technology so she could enjoy Lon's magical presence. She scrolled through his music library. Finally—time for some music around here!

  “Look at all this jazz!”

  “I like jazz. That's one of the reasons I moved to Montreal.”

  Londo seemed to have the entire iTunes catalog on his system. Lina tried to figure how Londo had the music organized and finally found a few familiar sections.

  “I've never even heard of some of these Beatles albums.”

  “I've got them all,” he said. He'd brought in some glasses from the kitchen filled with dark golden liquid. Now he collected pillows from other chairs and arranged them on the couch to form a nest for two.

  “So many playlists. Are they all yours?”

  He shrugged. “I rack up a lot of boring travel time, so I make lists. I'll copy whatever ones you want.”

  “Here's the Billy Joel that I knew you must have.” She turned to him with a warm look, remembering their first night together when he'd sung Billy Joel to her. “Oh, a couple of nice soundtracks. Do you mind?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  Out of Africa began its sweeping, lonely melodies of two lovers who could never align. “Music. Hallelujah.” She leaned against him but he drew her closer. That made it easier to run her palm across his bare chest. He really was spectacular. She chuckled softly. “Was Jae right? Are you showing off for me?”

  “Euh…maybe.” His eyes, his slow smile held glints of deviltry as he regarded her, letting his gaze slide along her body. “Why
don't you make yourself comfortable, too?”

  “I don't think Wiley would want me to.”

  “Wiley's not here. I don't want him to see you comfortable.”

  It was heaven to be able to touch him again. Her hand slipped down to that minefield of a waist, all taut and bumpy with muscles. His skin shone slightly as if he'd oiled himself. Maybe he was covered with slimy salve, too, but on him it was sexy. It made her fingers slide so easily. She played with the hills and valleys of his chest, arms, and shoulders, watching the warm shimmer of his tanned skin against her fingernails.

  His hand slid under the neckline of her robe.

  “Doctor's orders,” Lina unwillingly murmured.

  Chapter 20

  “Sauce for goose.” Lon's hand swept down from her shoulders as he kissed under her ear. He caressed her, cupped her, and his lips lowered to the base of her neck as she arched to him.

  Londo shouldn't do this; he wasn't well. With a blink back to consciousness, she gave his thigh a sharp rap and sat up, brushing his hands out of her robe. “For a while,” she declared.

  “Liiina…”

  “For a while.” She placed his hands demurely on his lap and batted them away when he objected

  “So what do we do now?” he pouted.

  “We talk. Like civilized humans.”

  “Not like Terrans?”

  “What is it with all the Terran barbarian stuff around here?” Lina asked. “Where did they get these ideas?”

  “Have you looked around, eh?”

  Lina frowned at the room, at the electronic display in front of them. “So they've got a little technology,” she told him. “Big deal.”

  “Actually…”

  She harrumphed and bounced self-righteously on the couch. Then she asked, “How good are you with the guitar, really?”

  “Oh, we're changing subjects, are we? The guitar.” He made a face at the universe in general and then rolled his eyes in surrender. “Ben… I learned as an exercise to control my touch, but even with all that I still need special strings. Here I've got just the acoustic. I'm good. Real good.”