The Blarmling Dilemma (Hearts in Orbit Book 1)

by S. C. Mitchell

  Gods, a spacer.

  Even though she barely knew him, she couldn’t imagine him doing anything awful. Most of the hardcore never got off the Theiler Worlds. She did like the vision of him being a pirate, like the swashbuckling, gun slinging heroes on the holovids. Romantic, misunderstood . . . maybe like the old Earth tale of Robin Hood her mother had read her when she’d been a little girl.

  Her heart wanted to trust Rigel, but her head knew better. The Blarmlings came first.

  A warning light started blinking on the control panel breaking her reverie. Another ship closing in on them. Her shipcom was intercepted, as a hailing frequency invaded its controls. Someone with some serious equipment was forcing their way into the ship’s communications system.

  “This is Marshal B-R-5-4-9. Shut down your thrusters and prepare to be boarded, Antares.”

  The voice was gruff, and echoed through the ship. A real galactic marshal?

  Phat photons!

  Phoebe glanced toward the cell and saw Rigel awake and standing at the door of his cell. “Let me out, Phoebe. I can handle this.” His eyes were wide . . . insistent. “Trust me, please!”

  What was she to do? The bounty hunter could just turn her and the Blarmlings over to the marshal, collect his bounty and be done with her. It would be all over. She’d have failed. Everything, all her work and risk, would have been for nothing.

  But did she dare make a run for it? With the rear deflector shields down, she didn’t stand a chance of escaping.

  She looked at the Blarmlings. It was their safety she worried about. This wasn’t right . . . it wasn’t fair.

  But Lart was pulling on her hand. Oolo was behind her pushing her toward the cell door controls. They wanted her to let Rigel out. Did they understand what they were asking her to do?

  “No I can’t,” she said. “I won’t let them take you back.”

  Lart’s glare was colored with frustration. He let go of her hand and sprinted across the short distance, hitting the cell door’s release button before Phoebe could stop him.

  “Lart, no!”

  Rigel burst from the cell, gently shoving Phoebe to the side, and hitting a button on the control panel.

  “What do you want, O’Callaghan?” He turned to face Phoebe and brought his index finger to his mouth, warning her to silence.

  “You know what I want, spacer. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me, so just pull over.” The term was an old Earth expression that police at all levels still used, even though there was really no ‘over’ to pull to in space. One just stopped thrusters so the officer could align parallel with the ship and match velocities.

  Rigel growled, then grabbed Phoebe’s hand. “Come on. Do exactly as I tell you. There’s not much time. You have to trust me.”

  Both Oolo and Lart nodded at her.

  She sighed, her stomach a turmoil of emotion. “Okay.”

  He led her and the Blarmlings to the cargo bay and hit a button hidden behind one of the fuel pipes. A small panel on the wall, slid to the side creating an opening big enough for her and the Blarmlings to climb through.

  “Get in and for the Gods’ sakes, keep quiet.”

  The floor was padded and a soft light illuminated the chamber, still, Phoebe’s brain rebelled. She’d brought up the original schematics of this ship, to trace circuits. This chamber should not be here. Flux wiring conduit, life-support air channeling, and a hydrator should be in the space she was crawling into. Yet there was enough room for her and the Blarmlings. It was cramped, but comfortable enough.

  Then she thought back to her spacewalk. The way her reconstructed thruster hadn’t quite fit right. The buckling in the outer hull had seemed like simple metal fatigue. It was wrong, but not surprising. The ship was quite old.

  But now it all made sense.

  This ship has been reconstructed.

  There was more to Rigel Antares than she’d suspected.

  Chapter 7

  The display showed O’Callaghan’s JX-95 hyper jet pulling into a parallel flight path and extending its boarding tube. The sleek, silver starship, sporting the bold blue and gold insignia of the galactic marshals, should have been a comforting sight this far from the galactic core, but Rigel felt only a cold knot twisting in his gut as he viewed it.

  Still, he could view it, and that was something. He couldn’t remember the last time his ship’s exterior camera had worked properly.

  Damn, she’d even fixed that.

  He couldn’t help but warm to the woman hidden away in his secret compartment, even though she represented a minefield of problems. Competent, compassionate, and drop-dead sexy. There was no way he was going to let O’Callaghan get his grubby hands on her.

  The corrupt galactic marshal was the main reason Rigel had the compartment constructed in the first place, though he never dreamed he’d be hiding something quite so valuable.

  The clang of the boarding tube connecting with Rigel’s ship reverberated through the cabin. Well, Rigel certainly wasn’t going to greet the officer at the door. Let O’Callaghan come up to the flight deck. The bastard certainly knew the way.

  “Where is she?” O’Callaghan’s question came out as an order. The barrel-chested galactic marshal thundered through the flight-deck doorway, his steel-toed jackboots pounding on the titanium flooring.

  Rigel didn’t turn to face him. He didn’t have to. Clarence O’Callaghan was clearly displayed on the interior monitor. Yet another ship system Phoebe’d managed to get working.

  “Where’s who?” Rigel kept his voice calm and his shoulders steeled. It wouldn’t help to let O’Callaghan know his level of frustration. The marshal would only use that against him.

  O’Callaghan’s scraggly mustache bristled, as he put fisted hands on his stout hips.

  “You know very well who! Phoebe Callista.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. The corpulent man raised his hands to tuck an errant strand of his greasy, red hair under his stained phase helm. The blue and gold jumpsuit, symbol of the proud galactic marshals, was rumpled and soiled, with a lived-in-for-weeks look.

  O’Callaghan, you’re a disgrace to that uniform and humanity in general.

  Rigel’s gut twisted, but he managed to say evenly, “I don’t have her.”

  It took an effort to keep his hand steady as he switched the monitor camera view to external. As he suspected, O’Callaghan had Phoebe’s ship in tow; the severed ends of Rigel’s tow cables streaming behind.

  “I have some evidence that says otherwise.”

  During the transition, the marshal moved closer. The man’s fetid breath caused Rigel’s nose to wrinkle. Warning wafted around him, swirling with the foul stench.

  “I found her ship and was towing it back, when the ion storm hit. It was empty. She must have bailed earlier or been picked up by someone else.”

  Rigel turned in his chair then stood. He towered a good half-meter over the stumpy officer.

  O’Callaghan retreated a step, his eyes narrowing. “You’re lying! None of the other bounty hunters in this sector have her. She’s here!”

  Rigel kept his look stern, but smiled internally. There was doubt in the man’s tone.

  “Go ahead. Search my ship. You certainly know it well enough by now.”

  O’Callaghan harrumphed. “I’ll just do that.” He turned to scan the cell through its steel-glass door, then pulled it open to amble through to check the head at the back of the cell. Rigel was tempted to hit the lock button, trapping the marshal inside, then fly the asshole to some remote planet, stranding him there to fend for himself, just like the spacers on the Theiler worlds. It would serve him right, O’Callaghan was every bit a criminal.

  Though dimmed by O’Callaghan’s presence, Rigel hadn’t lost his respect for galactic marshals. T
hey did a tough, dangerous job and made the galaxy safer for everyone. How a lowlife like Clarence O’Callaghan had weaseled his way in was a mystery. But even the brightest galaxies had their dark holes . . . or in this case, their assholes.

  O’Callaghan was nothing but a thug with a badge. He’d stolen five of Rigel’s last seven bounties, and was now looking to steal Phoebe. Rigel had spoken to other bounty hunters in the sector who’d also been robbed by the rat. All of them had been spacers. It was hard enough making a living as a bounty hunter, without giving up most of what you earned to an unscrupulous leach with a power complex.

  “Give me a break, O’Callaghan. How am I supposed to keep feeding you, if you’re starving me?” Rigel hated groveling, but it just might get the marshal off his ship quicker. If Phoebe made a noise, even a cough or sneeze, at the wrong time, it was all over.

  “Not this one, Antares. This one’s too good for the likes of you.” O’Callaghan slammed the cell door and pounded toward Rigel’s bedchamber.

  “I really don’t have her.” Lies didn’t come easy to Rigel, but in this case, there wasn’t even a slight quell. He doubted the marshal knew the difference between lies and the truth anyway. The man’s whole life was a lie.

  Defender of the galaxy my ass.

  He could hear the man rummaging through his closet and personal effects, upending drawers and spilling the contents on the floor. Rigel would have a mess to clean up, but he couldn’t concern himself with that. “The ship was empty when I found it. I hooked onto it and was bringing it in, so you guys could examine it.”

  Rigel knew the man had already concluded that Phoebe was not on his ship, wrong as that conclusion was. No, O’Callaghan was looking for something different, something to pin on Rigel. He’d made that clear months ago.

  Someday I’ll find something on you, Antares. Something that will send you back to Theiler, where spacer scum, like you, belong.

  It had stung, back then. Now it just made Rigel angry. He’d never done anything illegal. Still, because of circumstances beyond his control, he was marked. He was, and always would be, a spacer.

  And O’Callaghan hated spacers. He’d made that abundantly clear. The plump marshal was huffing and puffing before he stopped trashing Rigel’s ship. “Okay, Antares, you get off this time. But I’m watching you.” He jammed a finger in Rigel’s chest, before turning and pounding down the hallway toward the exit door.

  As the airlock hissed behind him, Rigel breathed a sigh of relief. Still, he waited until the access tube disengaged before he slid open the hidden panel and let Phoebe and the Blarmlings out.

  There was something in her eyes as she looked at him. “You didn’t turn me in . . . collect the bounty?”

  He grunted. “Don’t make me into a saint. I wouldn’t have gotten paid if I had turned you over to O’Callaghan. He’s been stealing bounties from me for years.”

  “But . . . he’s a galactic marshal.” The incredulity in her voice made Rigel chuckle. He’d felt the same way a few years back. Galactic marshals had a reputation for being fair and incorruptible. But, O’Callaghan broke that mold.

  Rigel rushed to the control room. If the bastard ran true to form, there’d be a parting shot of some kind. Rigel hoped it would just be a verbal jibe.

  “Remember . . . I’ve got my eye on you, Antares.” O’Callaghan’s voice crackled across the com as his ship accelerated away.

  Weapon lock on rear warp engine.

  Frack!

  Rigel jammed the button to raise the rear deflector shield, hoping to mitigate the damage. A red warning light flashed, indicating the shield was inoperable.

  “Sorry,” Phoebe said. She was at his shoulder, watching everything he did. “I had to steal parts from the rear deflector to repair the thrusters.”

  Rigel’s gut tightened. He watched the exterior display with a growing sense of foreboding. As O’Callaghan’s JX-95 accelerated into warp over-drive and disappeared into the star-streaked sky, a single phased bolt shot back toward Rigel’s ship.

  “Hold on.” He grabbed the command chair with one hand and wrapped the other arm around Phoebe’s waist. The ship rocked with the explosion, and Phoebe tumbled into his lap. Not the worst outcome he could have foreseen. Soft curves cradled against him as she flung her arms around his neck for support. She smelled of sweat and fear, with a sexy floral undertone. Unbidden, Rigel’s body hardened in reaction.

  The Blarmlings squealed behind him, but Lart then assured Rigel, he and Oolo were okay. As the shaking subsided Rigel loosened his grip on Phoebe, but her arms remained locked around his neck. He could tell she was struggling to control her breathing.

  “Why would he do that,” she managed around deep breaths. “He could have . . .”

  Rigel checked the monitors. “He didn’t. We’re fine. Warp drive is out, though.”

  She pulled back. Her cheeks reddened charmingly. “I’m so sorry. I never imagined—”

  “It’s not your fault.” Everything she’d done to fix his ailing ship, he certainly couldn’t fault her for cannibalizing the rear deflectors.

  His concentration was on the control panel, but he felt her face moving closer. He turned his head to see what she was doing and her lips connected with his.

  Rigel’s head spun and his body reacted. It had been so long since he’d held any woman like this. It was wrong. The woman needed his protection—his strength. But he couldn’t fight the need she brought out in him. Wrapping his arms around her, he deepened the kiss.

  Propriety had no chance, when faced with the raw desire flaring inside him.

  Behind him Oolo clicked and whistled. He didn’t understand all the dialect, but the message was crystal clear. No door anymore. Now you can have sex.

  Phoebe had only meant to kiss his cheek in thanks . . . or had she?

  Something about Rigel Antares touched her deep inside, magnetically drawing her to him. When he deepened the kiss, she never even thought about breaking it off or backing away. She melted against his hard body and felt his growing arousal.

  It had been so long. Would any man have brought out these feelings? No. There was something different about Rigel. Something special. Phoebe couldn’t put her finger on it yet, but, she was determined to get to know him better . . . starting right now.

  She slid fingers into his curly locks, cupping the back of his head to draw his lips tighter against hers. Probing with her tongue, she found him ready, open, and accessible. Large nimble hands played across the reaches of her back, one determinedly pulling her closer, grinding her bottom into his growing erection.

  That there was interest could not be denied. And passion, such passion in his lips—in his touch.

  He broke off the kiss, pulling back. Dark eyes blazed with lust and desire.

  “I shouldn’t . . .” He gasped for breath. His musky scent invaded her senses. The taste of his lips lingered on hers. Internal fires blazed, filling her core with erotic warmth.

  Her eyes met his with determination and need. “You should.”

  She brought her mouth back onto his, and her stomach did a flip. His firm, sensuous lips drank her in, tentative at first, then demanding.

  His arms went under her, supporting her back and legs as he rose from the command chair and carried her toward the bedchamber. Never breaking the kiss, their tongues continued to tangle as he moved. He kicked the door open wider, carrying her toward the bed, but he stumbled. Struggling to hold on to her and keep his balance, their lips parted.

  “Damn it.” He shook his head, but the fire never left his eyes.

  Phoebe looked around. Drawers were pulled out of cabinets, and their contents strewn across the room.

  “What happened in here?” Drawers auto-locked during turbulence, so it couldn’t have happened when the marshal’s phaser bolt struck t
he ship.

  “O’Callaghan happened. I don’t know if he truly believes he’s going to find something, or just does it to mess with me.”

  How could a galactic marshal be so mean? So evil?

  Rigel was trying to clear a path with his feet as he continued to carry her toward the bed. He stumbled a second time, catching his toe in a leather flight jacket, but they were close enough to the bed to tumble onto it. Twisting so he fell with his back to the bed, he used the momentum to clutch her closer.

  The mess on the floor was quickly forgotten as Rigel wrapped his arms around her and recaptured her lips. He rolled with her and she ended up underneath him.

  Phoebe didn’t feel so much trapped under him as cocooned in his warmth. Rigel peppered gentle kisses up her jaw-line toward her ear.

  “You’re sure about this?” His tone was husky, dripping emotion. His tongue tickled her earlobe and lightning bolted directly to her core. Oh yeah, she was very sure.

  “You stop now and I will hurt you.”

  He pulled back and fumbled for the zipper of her jumpsuit. Her cheeks warmed, thinking of what she wore under the plain garment.

  Phoebe loved the feel of soft, sexy lingerie. Her secret was rarely revealed, but she’d never heard a man complain. She’d carefully picked her lovers in the past, and they’d known she dressed for them. How would Rigel react? Would he think her slutty? Loose?