The Blarmling Dilemma (Hearts in Orbit Book 1)

by S. C. Mitchell

  Rigel felt dirty, in more ways than one, and decided it would be better to cleanse before he went to bed. He stepped into the cleansing chamber, programmed the cycle, and slipped on the face protection. Warm, soapy spray enveloped him as he raised his arms. In zero-G the unit would have spun him automatically, but with gravity he had to turn on his own. Just another disadvantage. The sooner he got rid of the woman and got his reward, the better.

  The invigorating mint-scented body sterilizer fizzed as it hit his body. He closed his eyes, trying to relax, but his mind filled with the vision of her soft, delicate fingers on his body, lightly stroking.

  “Damn it!” He spun around and reprogrammed the rinse cycle for cold. The icy blast of water brought gooseflesh to his skin and shocked him out of his reverie. By the time the warm air started to blow through the chamber he was shivering. Rigel canceled the drying cycle early, and even though his hair was still wet he exited the cleansing chamber.

  He knew he should probably pull on some sleep pants, just in case of emergency, but he didn’t have the energy. His head spun and he had to force his eyes to stay open as he dragged himself to bed, pulling the clean sheets over his naked body and burying his face in a pillow. He dropped off to sleep almost immediately.

  Still, he saw her face—pictured her body. As slumber overtook him, he wrapped his arms around another pillow, crushing it to his chest. The pillow did not hug him back, but in his dreams, slender arms wrapped around his waist and soft breasts pillowed against his chest.

  Phoebe sat fiddling with the touch display, while she waited for the scanner to finish cleaning the microbugs from the ship’s network. She couldn’t imagine how anyone could have let it get this bad. Most five-year-olds knew how to scan and update a com system. But this man was a spacer, and they were different. At least that’s what she’d heard. Phoebe had never actually met one before. Security was tight in the core worlds, and she’d lived a sheltered life.

  Spacers were something she read about, or watched on holodramas. A criminal element to be avoided. Not fit for polite society.

  As the human race moved out into the galaxy, government officials devised a unique solution to Earth’s old prison system. “Just space them.” Became the rallying cry, and the undeveloped Theiler System became the target.

  With thirteen habitable worlds, the Theiler System spun at the edge of the galaxy, far away from the ‘civilized’ planets of the central core. The first spacer ships were massive, transporting thousands of prisoners in cryo-sleep to their new homes. They were one-way trips. The ships landed, fuel-exhausted and crippled with just the barest essentials, and the inmates had to fend for themselves.

  Thirteen different designations, aligning with the severity of the crime, gave the Theiler planets their names. Theiler 1 for victimless, non-violent criminals all the way through Theiler 12 for the most hardened criminals, mass murderers, brutal rapists—the worst of the worst.

  Then there was Theiler 13. The only way out of the system was through Theiler 13. The amnesty ships came once a year, stopping at each of the planets, starting at 12. The judges heard pleas and assessed any rehabilitation. If the evidence warranted, the inmate was moved one planet up in the system. Thus, anyone could earn their freedom, but it would take 13 years and a pristine record for the most hardened criminals. From what she’d heard, most never made it off their starting planet.

  Phoebe began to pace again. So, what kind of guy was this bounty hunter? What kind of criminal had he been before he’d worked his way out of the Theiler system? Maybe he’d been a pirate.

  Well, if he came from the Theiler System he was a criminal of some kind. Hell, now that she had time to think about it, so was she. Maybe he could give her some tips on working her way off the prison worlds, should she be sentenced to them.

  Gods! What had she done? Her life had been so simple. Get up, go to work, and hang out with friends. There was a Lunarfest party, starting in ten hours, at Quinskies Hideout on Marla 4. It would have been a blast.

  Her parents were supportive and loving, and she’d had a good, well-paying job . . . with a really rotten company.

  She’d felt fortunate to secure a position at United Research and Technologies. While her tasks seemed simple and below her extensive biomechanical training, she’d gotten the impression from her superiors she was being groomed for something better.

  The animal testing area always bothered her to a certain extent, but she believed some testing was necessary to assure the safety of humans and other intelligent life forms throughout the galaxy. And the animals were treated humanely, for the most part, at least in the lab she’d worked in.

  Then the Blarmlings arrived, and everything changed. The creatures, from a planet on the galactic rim, had been discovered decades ago, and been mostly ignored. But two years ago the Pumbus Plague swept the inner planets, killing every dog and cat it came in contact with. Less than one percent of the household pets survived to get the cure, with some breeds going completely extinct.

  Supply dwindled to almost nothing as demand for a replacement pet rocketed across the major systems. It had to be cute, furry, and docile . . . just like the Blarmlings. U.R.T. and other companies pushed the central council to allow capture and testing of the creatures. Oolo and Lart had been their first victims.

  Hoping they had a breeding pair, U.R.T. kept the two caged together. Blarmling reproductive methods had never been studied. Outwardly they had no apparent sexual organs, merely a fleshy slit between their legs. But one night, cameras caught the act . . . or at least what they assumed was the act.

  As Oolo and Lart lay quietly in each other’s arms a fleshy protuberance, somewhat like a ridged penis, grew out of Lart’s slit and entered Oolo’s. Had they done it? Was Oolo pregnant?

  Questions flew, but with no apparent change in the Blarmlings after weeks of study, U.R.T. decided on a radical plan. The Blarmlings were separated—placed in cages, only a few feet apart.

  The change in behavior was instantaneous. Lart became frantic, hammering at the bars of his cage, and crying out in piteous wails. Oolo spent most of the time hugging herself and rocking, as tears slid from her big purple eyes. The Blarmlings were miserable, and caring for them became a trial for Phoebe.

  She badgered the techs. Why were they doing this? Obviously the Blarmlings were in anguish.

  “Your job is to see to their care. Leave the science to us,” they’d said. But she couldn’t.

  The final straw came that night she’d returned, on her own time, to check on the Blarmlings. Oolo had seemed sick, almost comatose, all day long and Phoebe worried. As she entered the lab she saw the two Blarmlings sleeping. Their cages were moved so far apart that their fingertips could barely reach each other, but that was how they slept, both stretched out just touching.

  Phoebe’s heart ached for them. How could they do this? Didn’t they see that these weren’t lab animals? They were people!

  A touchpad lay carelessly by the cages. One of the techs must have forgotten it. Phoebe seized the opportunity to find out what they were planning for the Blarmlings.

  What she found out filled her with rage. Another pair of Blarmlings were to be procured. Oolo and Lart were scheduled to be put to sleep and autopsied in the morning. Outward scanning techniques had failed to provide the necessary data on internal organs and biological functions.

  The Blarmlings were going to be killed.

  But Phoebe wasn’t about to let that happen. Alarms echoed throughout the complex, as she released the Blarmlings from their cages, and carried them to her ship. At the time she didn’t know where she was taking them, just that they couldn’t stay at the U.R.T. complex.

  Three hyper jumps later she’d decided the Blarmlings had to go home. It was where they belonged, and no matter what happened to her, she’d get them back to Blarm.

 
Phoebe’d plotted her route, sticking to star lanes as far away from the central planets as she could get. It would take longer, but be much safer. She’d been only two days, and eleven hyper-jumps away from the Blarmlings’ planet, when she’d run into Rigel Antares.

  Damn the man.

  Phoebe hung her head over the display screen on the table in her cell. What was she to do now? What would happen to Oolo and Lart?

  She really wanted to connect to her mail, and at least let her parents know she was all right, maybe contact a lawyer as well, but it would take another few hours for the system to clean out, and she certainly couldn’t use it before that. She might as well try to get some rest.

  With a sigh, she turned off the display and flipped the table and bench up so she could bring the cot down. Her cell was compact, but efficient. She lay down and brought her forearm up to cover her eyes.

  The cell shared lighting with the main cabin, but the bounty hunter had dimmed the lights before he retired.

  Handsome and considerate. Gods, he was making it hard to dislike him.

  The bunk was comfortable enough, but sleep eluded her. Even with her eyes covered she could still picture him. There was something about Rigel, something that attracted her on a base level she didn’t even want to understand.

  She wanted to hate him. He’d completely ruined her plans to take Oolo and Lart back to their planet. She certainly didn’t like the position the man had placed her in, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. After all, he was only doing his job.

  And Gods, why did he have to be so sexy? Those dark eyes—that rugged look. Even through the flight jacket, which tapered from broad shoulders to trim waist, she could tell the guy was ripped. A part of her wondered what he looked like naked.

  Be careful what you wish for, girl.

  It took her a while to drift off to sleep, and even then he haunted her dreams.

  Chapter 4

  An insistent pounding brought Phoebe out of her slumber. Intense purple eyes stared at her through the steel-glass door. Oolo bashed her fist, again and again, against the transparent metal. A frenzied jitter coursed through her silver fur. The Blarmling’s eyes darted frantically around the doorframe.

  Across the control room, Phoebe saw Lart with his head cocked, staring at the ship’s controls. He reached out and touched one of the buttons, and Phoebe felt the ship pull slightly starboard. Lart shook his head.

  Considering the appendage that appeared from his nether slit during their mating, or whatever that had been, Phoebe considered Lart male, and Oolo female, though she was far from sure. Lart was certainly dominant, and completely protective of the smaller Oolo, but she wasn’t even sure Blarmlings had genders.

  Oolo looked panicked as she began banging harder on the door, then running her hands around the doorframe. She must be looking for a way to open it.

  Oolo’s eyes locked right on to Phoebe’s and the Blarmling nodded, chittering loudly. Had she read Phoebe’s thoughts?

  Bringing her finger to her lips, Phoebe tried shushing Oolo. “Keep quiet. Go back and hide. You’ll wake the bounty hunter.”

  Too late.

  Phoebe heard pounding footsteps, out of sight around the side of her cell.

  “What in Saturn’s rings . . . get away from there.” Rigel’s voice boomed through the control room.

  The doorway to his sleep chamber was blocked from her view, and Phoebe saw only the man’s shadow moving along the wall toward the control panel and Lart. When he did appear she got only a quick impression of a lot of tawny skin before the ship began rocking wildly, throwing the bounty hunter back out of sight once again.

  Phoebe braced herself between the doorway and bunk, but lost her hold and floated toward the center of the cell when the gravity on the ship ceased to be. The vessel gyrated and shook.

  Glancing out the viewport Phoebe could see the ship was spinning. The stars whirled past dizzyingly.

  Thunk!

  The ship quivered. Three more thunks were followed by the screeching sound of metal giving way. Through the steel-glass portal, Phoebe saw her ship, torn loose from its tethers, tumbling away from the bounty hunter’s craft, into the darkness of space.

  Now floating in zero-G, Phoebe grasped a ceiling pipe to keep from being thrown about the small cell. Lights flickered and alarms wailed. She could see Oolo and Lart struggling to find something to hold on to, in the control room outside her cell. Their wails were frightened and frantic. Wishing fervently she could reach them, comfort them, she wrapped her arms around the pipe and held on with all her might. It was all she could do.

  The cabin lights flickered. Each time they came back on, they were dimmer. Phoebe’s head pounded, irritated by the strobing lights and nauseated by the spinning of the ship. She lost her grip, and tumbled around in the small cell.

  Then everything went black. Everything went quiet. There was no sight, no sound. No sensation at all as she spun weightlessly in the inky darkness.

  Phoebe reached out, groping for something solid to grab onto. She couldn’t see what it was, but it felt like the side of her cell’s bunk bed.

  Whatever it was, she was able to stop spinning. She took a deep breath and tried to center herself. Ahead of her, she noted a soft purple light in the inky gloom that filled the cabin. Pushing forward, she floated toward the light, then slammed into an invisible wall. Feeling around with her hands she realized it was the steel-glass of the cell door.

  She found the door handle and braced her legs against the foot of the bunk. Muscles straining, Phoebe pushed. There was a soft hiss and the door gave, swinging open. Thank goodness for the power failure. The door’s magnalock had discharged enough to allow her to force it open.

  Phoebe rubbed her throbbing temples, taking a moment to catch her breath and come to terms with her situation. Then she pushed her way out into the main cabin, again noting the soft, illumination to her right. Two sets of purple eyes glowed, illuminating the gloom.

  She recognized Oolo’s frightened trill.

  “It’s okay, Oolo.” She pushed herself toward the two Blarmlings. “It’s going to be okay.”

  In the dim glow of their eyes, Phoebe was able to make out their silhouettes. Lart held Oolo close. Both were trembling. This would probably have been the Blarmlings first experience in zero-G. They had to be terrified.

  “Lart?” She motioned toward him, but wasn’t sure if he could see her at all in the darkness. “Try to move toward me, toward the sound of my voice. But go slowly or you’ll fly past. It’s like swimming.”

  Did Blarmlings even know how to swim?

  With only their eyes aglow, Phoebe couldn’t see how they were moving, but the glowing eyes floated toward her.

  “We just have to find the system reboot switch and everything will be fine.” I hope. How badly was the ship damaged? The slightest tang of gandisol hung in the air. Not a good sign, but the bounty hunter’s ship had been leaking even before this.

  She wasn’t familiar with the P-86 circuit layout, but the system reset switch had to be near the control panel.

  Gooseflesh rippled up her arms. The temperature in the cabin had already dropped noticeably. They’d need to get life-support back on line fast.

  As Lart floated toward Phoebe he pushed Oolo into her arms. Uttering a few beeps and trills, he floated away. Phoebe held Oolo close. The soft, furry creature was shaking badly. Fear or cold? Probably both. Phoebe ran her hand down Oolo’s back, caressing the soft fur. The gesture seemed to calm the Blarmling.

  “It’ll be okay, Oolo,” she said softly. “It’ll be okay.”

  But would it? The ship was dead, drifting in some backwater sector at the outer rim of the galaxy where almost no one went. The chill of space was seeping into the ship’s cabin. How long could they even survive?


  Phoebe’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, lit only from the glow from the Blarmling’s eyes, and could make out Lart’s shape stopping a few yards away from her. He turned toward her, issuing a series of trills and clucks.

  “I don’t understand,” Phoebe said, shaking her head.

  Oolo grabbed one of Phoebe’s hands between her two front paws. She pushed Phoebe’s hand up, then brought it back down. She stopped for just a second then pushed the hand lower and brought it back up. Up, back, down, back. She repeated the gesture.

  Could it be? Could Lart possibly understand that much, that he’d actually found the system reset switch?

  The three-way switch allowed for a cold or warm system reboot. The ship was completely dead, so a warm reboot would not work.

  “Down, Lart. Push it down then back to the center.”

  A loud clunk reverberated in the silence, then lights flickered, servos clicked, and fans whorled. Around her, the ship came back to life. Warm air pushed into the room from the ventilation system. The control panel lit up with colored indicator lights.

  “You did it, Lart,” she cried. “You did it.”

  Oolo pushed off of Phoebe’s lap, gliding toward Lart. She locked him in a tight embrace and the two creatures nuzzled each other intimately, as they drifted through the cabin.

  Phoebe swam her way toward the control panel. The grav indicator read .5, but there was obviously no gravity, at least not yet. Other services seemed to be coming up and registering fine. At least they had heat and life support.