by Terri Lane
The small taxi shuttle lurched as Galen wrenched them out of hyper-speed.
Arryn reached across the aisle and gripped Polina’s wrist with his slender, golden-embossed hand. “Help me find out the truth, Polina,” he asked, his voice low and desperate. “Something isn’t right—”
The ship shuddered and lost power.
“Something’s wrong!” Galen shouted from the cockpit.
Polina’s brown eyes met Arryn’s blue ones. They both wore identical expressions of shock.
“Hold on back there!” Galen’s voice was tense and tight. “I think we might be making an unexpected landing.”
Arryn didn’t let go of Polina’s wrist as the small taxi shuttle plummeted out of control, screaming toward the surface of a nearby moon.
***
“Well,” Galen said finally, scrubbing his hands through his messy black curls and squinting at the smoking taxi shuttle that was half buried in the red sand of the little moon’s surface, “I guess it could be worse.”
Neither Polina nor Arryn answered. They were both staring at the wreck of their small spacecraft. The little ship was still in one piece, but barely. Galen had masterfully guided the ship—the engine and thrusters both dead—to the surface of the nearest planetoid, a moon. Luckily for them, the moon was in IA territory and had the standard atmospheric regulator. All three of them could breathe the air.
“Say what you want about the IA,” Galen chattered on, oblivious to the shock of both his passengers, “At least they’re predictable? Without their obsessive need to make every single planet, moon or rock habitable with their damn atmo-regs, we wouldn’t be breathing air right now, right?”
He turned around and finally noticed Arryn and Polina. “It’s not that bad, guys,” he said, his voice unnaturally bright. “We’ll be out of here in a few days, max.”
“A few days?” Polina sputtered. She wasn’t supposed to be off-planet and she certainly didn’t have clearance to be marooned on an unnamed moon with a Dardassyian diplomat. “Oh, no. I’m in so, so much trouble right now.”
“I apologize for your distress, Junior Ambassador,” Arryn said, “but perhaps this will be a wake-up call to your government—”
“You are not making this about politics,” Polina snapped, her brown eyes flashing. “We could die out here and you’re counting this as a win for your people?”
“I didn’t say that,” Arryn replied coolly. “But that is what I was implying, subtextually.”
Polina clenched her fists, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her from flying at Arryn. “Easy, kid,” Galen’s smoke roughened voice whispered in her ear. “Don’t make things worse for him.”
“For him?” Polina couldn’t believe her ears. “What do you mean for him?”
Galen didn’t answer, instead just shook his head. “I’ll explain later,” he answered, his voice still low.
Arryn had moved away and was inspecting the smoking crash site, gingerly nudging the wing of the craft with his booted foot. “How long did you say this would take, Galen?” he asked, his golden embossing dancing worriedly over his forehead.
“Dunno, boss man,” Galen replied, trying to force cheerfulness. “A day or two, I guess?”
Polina’s stomach gurgled. “I hate to ask the obvious,” she said. “But do we have any supplies? Provisions? You know, food?”
Both men looked at her blankly.
“This is a short-range passenger craft,” Galen answered finally. “They don’t typically come stocked with food.”
Galen was right. There was a small store of water in the back of the passenger hold, but otherwise the ship was bare. It had a cockpit, a couple of jump seats and a bathroom. That was it.
Arryn looked worried as the wind blew his golden curls around his tawny face. Galen strode over to him and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” Galen said. “This is an IA outfitted rock, right? If they’ve bothered to atmo-reg it, they’ve probably got an outpost somewhere. Polina and I will head out and see if we can find it and bring back some provisions.”
“We will?” Polina asked. The wind was picking up and pulled wisps of brown hair out of her tight braids.
“We will,” Galen assured her, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the crash site. “Arryn? You good here?”
Arryn said nothing, but waved one slender hand in their direction.
“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Galen said as he and Polina set out on their mission. “He’s a little stressed,” Galen whispered, as soon as they were out of earshot.
“That’s his version of stressed?” Polina asked, looking back at Arryn, who was standing perfectly still, looking placidly at the crashed taxi shuttle.
Galen shrugged. “The Dardassyians keep their emotions pretty close to their chests. It’s almost impossible to read them.”
“Then how come you can?” Polina asked.
“I’ve known Arryn for a long time,” Galen answered, his black curls blown about in a gust a wind. “A long time.”
He said nothing more, just led Polina out across the desolate red landscape of the small moon.
They’d gone about a kilometer when Galen pulled up shortly. “Look,” he pointed off into the distance. Polina saw nothing. Galen pointed again, jabbing his finger at a barely distinguishable spot on the horizon. “It’s a hatch,” he finally explained, when Polina admitted that she couldn’t see what he was pointing to.
“How can you even see that?” she asked, but Galen only smirked.
“Artarians have amazing eye sight,” he said. “All our senses, really. Vision, hearing, smell. We’ve got a massive advantage over you humans.”
Polina wanted to argue, but Galen pulled her along behind him. The wind whipped up red dust around their boots as they headed toward the hatch. Finally, they drew close enough for Polina to see it with her own eyes.
By the time they reached the hatch, the gusty wind had graduated into a proper storm and the clouds overhead had turned a dangerous deep burgundy. The wind howled around them, pushing Polina and Galen back as they tried to near the hatch. With no small effort, Galen wrenched the circular metal door open and hauled Polina inside, slamming the door after them.
The room was pitch black.
The wind still screamed, but it was a distant, hollow wail now. Polina could hear her breath coming in short pants, with Galen’s slow, steady breathing somewhere near.
She found his presence strangely comforting.
“Galen,” she whispered. “What do we do now?”
The captain didn’t answer, but a moment later, a beam of light appeared, illuminating a small patch of floor. Galen turned the light up on himself, shining the beam up toward his grin.
Polina gazed at him for a moment, appreciating the way the light danced off his rich, mahogany skin, illuminating the brightness of his rakish smile. She couldn’t believe that, only a few hours ago, she had found him unattractive.
“Well, Junior Ambassador,” he teased, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “Shall we explore?”
***
The bunker wasn’t large and it hardly took Polina and Galen any time at all to explore the whole thing. They discovered a small dormitory, complete with several sets of bunk beds, a control room and—
“A storeroom!” Polina practically collapsed in relief as the light from Galen’s flashbeam settled on a shelf full of food packs.
“Told you,” Galen grinned, and Polina playfully smacked him on the arm.
“You didn’t tell me anything,” she retorted, stuffing packs of rations into the cargo-pockets of her black flight suit.
“You haven’t known me long, Junior Ambassador—”
“Please just call me Polina.”
“Okay, Polina,” Galen answered. “Like I said, you haven’t known me long, but soon you’ll realize that I’m pretty much right about everything.”
Polina rolled her eyes, but it was hidden in the darkness. Something, however, ca
ught her eye.
“Look at this,” she said, tugging Galen’s sleeve to make him point the light to the left. The beam illuminated a delicate gold carving on the edge of the supply shelf. It was lovely.
“Why is that there?” Polina wondered aloud. “IA settlements don’t tend to be aesthetically pleasing.”
She could hear the rustle of his curls as Galen shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “But I want to take some snaps for later. Hold this.”
He shoved the flashbeam into Polina’s hand as he pulled out a small cam and took several snap images of the shelf.
“There, that ought to—“
The flashbeam went dead in Polina’s hand.
“What did you do?” his voice came from nearby, his tone accusatory.
“Nothing!” Polina squeaked. “I didn’t, I mean, I don’t—”
Galen cut her off with a chuckle. “Just kidding. Batteries were low when we got in here. Just wanted to give you a hard time.”
Polina tried to glare at him, but the storeroom was pitch black. It didn’t stop her from trying, though.
“Grab my hand,” Galen ordered.
Polina stretched out her hand in the direction of his voice, but met only dark emptiness. She tried again. Nothing. Finally, on the third try, her hand collided with Galen’s own, which closed tightly around it.
“Stay with me, Polina,” he instructed. “And we’ll be out of here in no time.”
Galen’s hand was warm and strong around hers, his grip reassuring. In the dark confines of the bunker, Polina was suddenly quite aware of the richness of Galen’s scent: musky, with a biting undercurrent of oil and fuel. Her breath quickened as Galen confidently guided them through the darkness.
“Here,” he said finally, but instead of placing Polina’s hand on a rung of the exit ladder, he gently helped her sit down on what felt like a mattress. “Rest for a second, okay.”
Polina started to object but Galen shushed her with a press of his hand on hers. He left his hand there as he began speaking.
“Look, Junior Ambassador—”
“I asked you to call me Polina.”
“I will,” Galen said. “But this is official business, so I need to use your official title, okay?”
“Okay,” Polina answered, a wave of nervousness rippling through her.
“It’s about Arryn,” Galen said. “Take it easy on him, okay?”
“Take it easy on him?” Polina tried to pull her hand away, but Galen held firm in the darkness. “He’s the one who went of the offensive first. He called me ‘ignorant,’ Galen—”
“He didn’t mean it as an insult,” Galen said. “His people have a hard time with feelings, okay? Have you ever met a Dardassyian before?”
Polina shook her head then, realizing the uselessness of that gesture in the darkness, answered, “No.”
“Well, they’re a proud race, they come off as cold and unfeeling sometimes. But that’s only on the outside, yeah? They don’t express themselves like other races. They’re humanoid, but they don’t have the same emotional behaviors, the same expressions—”
“He smiled at me, Galen. He totally used a facial expression,” Polina argued.
Galen’s sigh echoed through the small bunker. “He learned that from me. I don’t just pilot for him, I try to help him be more…I don’t know, accessible? All he wants is to stop this IA embargo against his planet and I thought that being more emotionally available would help him in negotiations. He’s trying, Polina. I know it doesn’t look like it, but he’s really trying.”
“It doesn’t seem like it,” Polina muttered.
“Watch his markings,” Galen said suddenly.
“What?”
“His markings. Those gold patterns on his skin,” Galen said. “Surely you’ve noticed them.”
Polina had definitely noticed hem.
“They’re emotional markers,” he explained. “You have to know what you’re looking for but, once you’ve got it figured out, he’s easy to read.”
“You can read him?” Polina asked.
“Okay, I can read him like a book.”
“What does he think about me?”
Galen paused. “I don’t think that’s appropriate to say.”
“Great,” Polina huffed. “He hates me. I’m crash-landed on a moon with a diplomat who hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you, Polina,” Galen said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s going to hate me in a second.”
Polina was puzzled. “Why would he—”
Galen’s mouth was on hers then, warm and soft, an unexpected shock in the darkness of the bunker. Polina gasped against him and, as suddenly as it pressed against her, it was gone.
“Was that okay?” Galen asked, his rough voice worried in the dark.
Polina nodded, realizing again the uselessness of that gesture in the blackness. “It was,” she stammered.
Galen didn’t lead with a kiss this time. Instead, he slid his rough hand over the delicate line of her jaw, drawing a path for his mouth to follow.
He kissed down the trail of her jawline and Polina trembled in the darkness.
“Galen,” she whispered, the unfamiliar treble of her voice echoing through the empty room.
“Polina?”
“Please don’t stop doing that,” she replied, breathless.
Galen did not stop. He gave his mouth free rein, allowing it to ravage the delicate line of Polina’s lips, press in against her with his warm, wanting tongue. She met him with eagerness, her own tongue dancing around his as he lapped into her mouth, exploring and claiming.
Polina’s breath was coming in hitching gulps now. It had been so long since she’d been touched by anyone. All of her colleagues at the IA were too career-minded to be distracted by affairs of the flesh. She let her mind drift back to the last time she’d been intimate with anyone and her mind drew a blank. She couldn’t remember.
She gasped, drawn out of her reverie by Galen’s strong hands cupping her breasts. Polina, distracted by the intensity of the kiss and the journey through her own sad romantic history, had lost track of Galen’s hands.
They had her full focus now, though, as they tugged at the zipper at the front of her flight suit, pulling it down and allowing him access to her bare skin. Polina felt the cool air as the fabric pulled away and then the heat of Galen’s skin as he caressed her full breasts.
“Polina,” he gasped as he kissed a sloppy trail down her throat, pausing long enough to nip playfully at her collarbone before diving further and taking one nipple between his full lips.
“Galen,” she answered, her voice high and electric under his careful ministrations. He nipped at her nipple, tugging it between his sharp teeth and Polina moaned, the sound echoing loudly through the darkness of the bunker. “Galen,” she moaned again, and he moved to the other breast, pulling her erect nipple into his warm mouth.
Polina’s hands searched back into the darkness and, having ascertained that there was indeed more mattress behind them, reached over and pulled Galen on top of her. His weight was solid, heavily reassuring in the darkness. Polina bucked her hips up experimentally and was rewarded with the hard press of Galen’s erection against the flat wall of her abdomen.
She moaned happily and could feel Galen smile against her lips in the darkness.
“You like what you feel, huh?” he whispered against the soft skin of her throat.
“You’re cocky, aren’t you?” Polina tried to be stern, but laughter sparkled under her words. “You flyboys are all the same, aren’t you?”
“Oh, you’ve been with a pilot before, have you?” Galen teased.
“No,” Polina admitted. “But I’ve heard stories.”
“Stories?” Galen sounded pleased. “What kind of stories?”
Polina slid her hand between their bodies, letting it explore downward as Galen pressed hot kisses against her breasts. “I’ve heard that you boys never stop talking,”
she smirked, her hand playing with the belt of Galen’s trousers.
“That’s true,” he admitted, breath coming in short bursts now that he knew where Polina’s hand was heading. “We never shut up, really.”
Polina unbuckled his belt and quickly unfastened the button and zip. “That’s what I’ve heard,” she said, slipping her hand inside his fly, the hardness of his cock brushing against her hand. “That you pilots just talk and talk and talk. In fact, I’ve heard there’s just one way to shut you up.”
She deftly wrapped her fist around the thick shaft of Galen’s cock and jerked up once.
The reply faded from his lips, replaced instead by a whimper. She jerked her hand again and Galen whimpered louder.
“Looks like the stories are true, captain,” Polina whispered into the shell of his ear as she deftly jerked him off. “If you want a pilot’s attention, you just need to take him in hand and make him pay attention.”
Galen cried out as Polina twisted her hand at his tip, adding extra sensation to the sensitive head. She felt his body tense against her, trembling as he spilled against her hand, covering her with the heat of his release. She murmured gently into his curls as he nestled against her, shaking with pleasure.
The blackness of the bunker was filled with the soft sound of their breath, each matching the other’s rhythm as they curled together in the dark.
“Polina?” Galen’s voice rose out of the blackness. “We should go.”
“We should,” she reluctantly agreed.
Galen’s reassuring weight disappeared from her side for a moment, then he was back, his strong arms wrapping around her as he pulled her to her feet.
Together, they made their way through the darkness and out of the bunker, tracing their steps back to the crash site, where Arryn was waiting for them.
***
The wind had died down by the time Polina and Galen exited the hatch, and they quickly made their way back to the crash site as dusk fell over the surface of the red moon.
When they arrived back at the downed shuttle, they found Arryn huddled over a small fire, a silver emergency blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He glanced up as they approached, eyes flat as he looked over Polina, then Galen.