The medical officer asked, “Are you expecting this panel to believe the spouse Crèche chose for you panicked?”
“She weighed the information she had, decided she was in extreme danger, no one would help her, and took steps to preserve her life. She wasn’t going to stay around to find out what horrors awaited her in my quarters. I wouldn’t call that panic.”
“Fair enough, except your wife is Crèche, and she knows that individuals with any abusive, much less homicidal, tendencies are dismissed from the Pool.” The Crèche Commander looked at him over the edge of her own tablet.
Rainer glanced back at Lachesis for a response. “Do you have a rebuttal?”
She pursed her lips and whispered, “I do, but it’s going to piss them off.”
“Excellent.”
Lachesis stepped around Rainer’s bulk. “Rainer told me the reason we were being married in this fashion is because he has intractable cryo-survival.”
The female commander nodded. “It’s true. The only way we believe we’ll get a child from him is an arranged marriage and permitting nature to take its course.”
“He stated that clearly, then stated…” she glanced at him uncertainly, then continued, “that I was his type, and his scent and tone made it clear he resents being attracted to me. He also made a vehement declaration he does not want children.”
“I would classify Commander Rainer as very resistant,” the commander corrected, “but he started to come around to the idea in the past year.”
Rainer’s scent shifted to aggravation.
“But he was never formally in the Pool,” Lachesis pressed. “No one is ever forced to parent, or even strong-armed, or pressured into it. There are too many people who are eager for the job. Yet, despite this, the Crèche on two ships were willing to take the unprecedented step of forcing him into a marriage he never asked for, to parent children he doesn’t want. That makes me wonder what other compromises were made along the way. When Crèche is willing to abandon its most basic duties and principles to preserve a bloodline by force, it is willing to do or overlook or excuse anything.”
A minor scuffle of murmurs broke out on the dais.
“That is a hideous implication, and you are out of line,” the female commander snapped.
“You asked me a question, Crèche Commander, and I answered it,” she retorted.
“She’s the female version of Rainer,” the man next to the medical officer muttered behind his hand, but not quietly enough. The other male commander, who had so far said nothing, gestured for them to shut up, but someone else on the dais snickered anyway.
Rainer nudged her back behind him.
“I told you I’d piss them off,” she muttered.
“And an excellent job you did, too.”
The male commander finally spoke, tone impatient. “How are we supposed to explain to NightPiercer the debacle in the market? Standards of behavior apply to everyone.”
Rainer shifted his shoulders and favored that commander with a harsh half-smile. “Not every good example models correct behavior.”
So he was selling this as they were an example of what not to do?
Captain Tsu asked, “And how do we explain Lachesis’ conduct?”
Rainer couldn’t suppress a feral grin. “She’s my wife. That should be explanation enough.”
The sound in the chamber changed, resulting in something muffled and dampened. The members of the council deliberated among themselves. They didn’t argue long about it. Apparently everyone wanted to get to dinner.
“Commander, Lachesis,” Captain Tsu said, although his tone of voice communicated his general exhaustion with this. “We agree that this was an extreme misunderstanding created by a lack of supervision on both sides. While I cannot speak for you, Lachesis, on NightPiercer we’re well-acquainted with Commander Rainer’s contempt for diplomacy, sensitivity, and empathy, and it sounds like he confronted this situation with his usual social grace. Since you two have asked that this be treated as a private family matter, and you both want to work through the conflict, nor do we actually believe the Commander has any homicidal tendencies, and no damage was done beyond causing a scene, we can close the book on this.”
That sounded like good news, and bad news.
“However,” Tsu held up a finger, “there are concerns with the ferocity both of you displayed. We will excuse Lachesis’ bite as legitimate self-defense. Commander, I am only going to tell you this one time: intimidating, menacing, or forcefully restraining your spouse is unacceptable, regardless of species or form. You are a high-ranking officer and expected to set an example. Now you will serve as an example of how we work with struggling marriages. Lachesis, you will report any concerns or problems directly to myself, Crèche, or Medical, and comport yourself as befitting an officer’s wife. If you do not know how, ask for help. Counseling and monitoring is being directed for both of you. All implants will remain in indefinitely.”
“And you two will complete the standard Supervision,” the Crèche Commander stated.
“Yes, agreed.” Captain Tsu nodded.
“Under the circumstances, Captain, isn’t that unwise?” Rainer said.
“No, Commander. All sources of tension and mystery are going to be removed from your relationship. That barrier will be broken down as well.”
Rainer tensed and smelled of anger and dismay. “That is—”
“An order,” Tsu barked.
“Captain.”
“Is there a problem, Commander?” the other male commander asked.
“The problem is she’s been through enough. A human wouldn’t understand the difficulty that’s going to be presented.”
“Enough,” Tsu snapped.
Rainer growled deep in his throat.
“What is he talking about?” Lachesis put her fingertips on Rainer’s hip, not liking the shocked, dismayed scent coming off her husband. This hadn’t gone exactly as he’d anticipated.
“Ark doesn’t have Supervision?” Rainer asked.
“No?” There were a lot of things that got supervised, but this seemed to be something specific.
Rainer turned back to the Captain. “Captain, she doesn’t even know what it is. I think she’s had enough—”
Tsu leaned back in his chair and smiled unpleasantly at Rainer. “You will have to explain it to her, Commander. Communication is important in every marriage. You could use the practice.”
Whatever this “supervision” was, Lachesis was fairly sure she wasn’t going to like it.
Sexual Elephants
Rainer's quarters were on one of the top decks. Like all quarters: no windows. Several layers of hull and wall between them and the void outside.
“Tell me about this thing we have to do,” she tried to ask as they padded down various corridors in their fur.
“It will be easier to explain in human form,” he said, reeking of anger, frustration, deep concern, and the scalding pain of silver-burned skin.
Further nagging had resulted in silence.
She padded into the main room from the small foyer and shifted back up into human form. A sitting room with the usual couch, low table, screen, desk. Two bedrooms. Some paintings on the wall—gorgeous scenes of a full Earth Moon washing out a field of snow, and another overlooking rolling green fields and forest with a twisting river. Some trinkets in wood shadowboxes. All the decor muted blue, grey, natural cream shades.
The low table was scattered with chips and some glass pads, and under it he had a large rug. Fascinated and “supervision” forgotten, she hurried over to it. Rugs were very rare. Livestock-produced leather and fleece were used for essential goods, but he had a rug that wasn’t actually either. She rubbed her bare feet on the rough knotting. It was old, the original colors had faded, but the rough fibers were still sturdy. “It’s hemp!” she exclaimed in wonder. “How did you get this?”
“It’s been in my family since Exodus.”
“You mean it was made on Earth?�
�
“Yes.”
“And you walk on it?”
“It’s a rug. What else do you do with a rug?”
“It should be in a museum.” She rubbed her feet against it anyway. There was plenty of grass in the Biomes, but this was Earth grass. It was priceless. Different. She shifted down into wolf form to sniff the knots. The rug smelled mostly of floor and dozens of different feet. She dismissed those and inhaled again, trying to catch a whiff of what sunlight had smelled like.
Rainer picked up one of the tablets and scrolled through it. “If there comes a time when it starts to look worse for wear, I’ll put it on the wall, but until then, I’d rather enjoy it.”
She shifted back into human form. “Two bedrooms? Do you have a bunkmate?”
“I have not had a bunkmate for six years. Married officer quarters. I moved in last week.”
A second bedroom. Not for her. For the children they weren’t going to have. She unconsciously touched the small, oblong implant sitting under the muscle of her left hip. “Do you even have an implant?”
“No. I’ve never had one,” Rainer said, heedlessly naked as he touched the burn marks around his neck, examining the blood on his fingertips with disgust. “The old belief of ‘herd immunity’ was considered sufficient, and once I reached a certain rank, fraternization is forbidden.”
She shivered under his gaze. She only wore her long red hair, which tickled her skin more than shielded her when he looked at her. The implants went in around sixteen on males, and a bit older for females. She’d had eggs harvested for cryostorage and the implant had been put in. “Tell me about this supervision, minus the platitudes and excuses.”
“We have to consummate our marriage.”
Archaic. As old as that rug on the floor, and the watch he’d been wearing on the shuttle flight. Of course they were eventually going to have sex, assuming they didn’t murder each other first. That was the whole point. “Obviously.”
“We’re supervised while we do it.”
“What!” she screeched.
“You asked for platitude and excuse free.” He shrugged and wandered into the main bedroom.
She followed. “Wait, wait. We have to have sex while someone watches.”
“Just once.” He went to turn on the shower.
“Why? Why would anyone care? Is public humiliation a thing on this ship?”
“Some people enjoy being watched. Or watching.”
“Yes, yes, I know that, and neither one is my kink.”
“It’s not a shipwide kink. It’s a Crèche mandate.”
“Your Crèche is clearly insane,” she said, and she meant it. Ark’s Crèche sometimes seemed inscrutable (even to her, and she’d been on the inside) but NightPiercer’s seemed downright out of their minds.
He tilted his head back so the shower’s cold water ran over his burned neck. “I don’t believe they’re insane, but I do disagree with their priorities on many things.”
Rainer braced himself on the shower wall with one hand and bowed his neck under the water. The water pooled and slid around the twisted scars on his body. The steam carried his scent, a confusing jumble of emotions, thoughts, and pain she couldn’t sort out through everything else that had happened. Voice shaking, she asked, “Why does Crèche mandate it?”
Rainer pulled soap through his hair. “Crèche logic says that sex is the most awkward hurdle for arranged pairs. They believe in forcing the issue. If the couple can’t, won’t, or the observers decide it’s too awkward or uncomfortable or inappropriate—”
“The whole thing sounds awkward, uncomfortable, and inappropriate!”
“They believe in getting the sexual elephant out of the room.”
“So they make sure you get your dick in?”
An amused chuckle. “They aren’t physically in the room. Are you going to just stand there, or would you like to bathe?”
“I’m waiting for you to finish,” she snapped.
“I was suggesting if you’d rather Supervision not be our first time together, and if you’d rather… practice.”
She blinked at him. “Are you even real?”
He looked down at himself, then at his arms, and ran a hand over the scars on his shoulder. “Yes, quite real. I checked.”
“Let me catalog my day for you. It started thinking I was going to have a few bittersweet days left with family and ship. It then devolved into you, a diplomatic incident, a shuttle explosion, attempted murder, crawling through vents, hanging out in the brig with you, then dodging a court-martial while smelling how much you were getting off on half of it, and now I have to fuck you?”
“Sooner or later.”
“Um… I mean, I can um… fake it but… you… can’t…”
“I have intractable cryo-survival. I’m far from impotent.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, you know what I’m saying.”
“Maybe you should say it. You seem to enjoy taking shots at my cock, even as I can smell your interest. Right now. And how difficult it is for you to not look.”
She flushed in absolute mortification.
“Or is that it? You’re attracted to me and you’d rather not be?”
“You told me the same thing!”
“I never told you any such thing.”
“You made it clear this isn’t anything you want and you’re pissed Crèche gave you someone you’re attracted to!”
“I’m not angry. I’m disconcerted, and you’re asking if I’m attracted enough to you to fuck you?”
Even her toes blushed.
“Is that what you’re asking?” He purred as he stepped out of the shower, wet, large, and seeming to loom over her.
She forced herself to open her eyes, and he smirked at her. Complete mortification strangled her as it also warmed the space between her thighs. He lowered his face to hers. “Are you asking if I can get hard for you? Is that it?”
“Stop it,” she whispered, suffocating on the scent of his arousal, and willing herself to not look down. She didn’t want to see his swelling cock. She shouldn’t want it. She shouldn’t want any of this.
Rainer seemed to press closer until her whole world was him. “Will you get wet for me, Lachesis? I hope so. I’m not brute enough to penetrate a she-wolf with a scent that begs me to stop.”
She closed her eyes again. His scent was lust, but it was also bitter and full of something rancid. Self-loathing? “I hate you so much, Rainer.”
“I don’t think you do, and I don’t hate you, and that is what is going to make this complicated.”
She kept her eyes closed.
“I’ll take that as a not tonight, dear. The water is unmetered. Privilege of rank, try not to abuse it.”
A Truce, Not Trust
Regardless of how crappy the rest of everything was, the shower was amazing. She hadn’t had a private shower in ten years, and never one longer than five minutes. The water ran brown with the sweat and blood and dirt she’d picked up. She tried to digest what Rainer had said, balanced against his strange scent. Why would he hate himself? Was he ashamed about his fertility problems? Possibly. He was an Engineer, and used to being in control of everything, and here he was, unable to fulfill a simple biological function: impregnate someone.
She had to have sex with Rainer in front of an audience to prove she could? That he could?
She sobbed once but gulped it down like a mouthful of vomit.
The bedroom had a large bed draped with more blankets in unexpectedly bright (and expensive) colors to contrast with the subdued polished floor and muted walls. Her bag waited on the bed, along with a new comm, and a few new tablets.
Hanging on the wall above the bed was a triptych of paintings: an evergreen in winter draped in snow and trimmed in lights and fanciful forest birds and wildlife, a birch tree in the red and gold glory of autumn, and a magenta crepe myrtle, its branches heavy with blossoms and butterflies. She crawled up onto the bed to get a better look.
Even pr
ints were rare. These were originals, on canvas, the ridges of the paint and texture of the small brushstrokes evident up close. Each butterfly was so delicate, each petal so real. She dared to touch one of the crepe myrtle’s petals. A shudder of reverence rattled down her spine to her tailbone.
She didn’t have anything to wear except a pair of panties and an old overly large shirt she’d traded for from a male bunkmate a while back to sleep in when the bunks got stuffy and hot. Still, felt good to just not be wandering around naked. Nobody could be precious about being naked, and werewolves especially had to get over it, but the way Rainer had looked at her… he was right. This was going to get complicated.
So panties and a shirt it was. If he got hard looking at her thighs, well, he could get hard. Wolves tended to be about the scent anyway, not the show.
And this was why she’d wanted to be married to a human: male wolves, even in human form, had a good sense of smell. She had a good sense of smell. There were a few less secrets with a werewolf in the room. Males of both species almost always smelled of sex. Schooling thoughts to try to suppress a natural scent reaction was only possible to a point. Even if she told Rainer she despised him, which she wasn’t sure she did as much as she wanted to, her body liked him. Pheromones were obnoxiously real. The lizard brain had very different standards and didn’t care about the sentient humanoid brain that had to live with the consequences of the lizard’s bad choices.
Rainer, dressed, now sat on one of the upholstered chairs, tablet in hand, and studying reports displayed on the large screen on the opposite wall. She’d never lived around executive staff—her parents hadn’t been in the chain of command, she’d actually had the highest status—but she had seen plenty of emails, messages, requisitions, resource reports, time tables, schedules, and the like crossing her own desk.
He glanced at her as she came in. The ardor from before seemed gone.
“Don’t worry, I won’t walk around the ship like this,” she said. “Not that it matters. Vids of my naked ass running around are probably all over the network.”
NightPiercer Page 8
