The Blarmling Dilemma (Hearts in Orbit Book 1)

by S. C. Mitchell

  Suddenly floating, she’d bumped her forehead on an exhaust valve as she twisted. “Ouch!” She grabbed for a pipe that jutted out of the wall to stop from drifting too far into the shaft. “Now what?”

  Much as she loved Rigel, and she’d decided that she did love Rigel, his ship had a tendency to break at the worst possible moments. It was infuriating, and taxed her skills to the max with the limited spare parts she had on hand. Still, she understood. O’Callaghan had been starving him for years, stealing his bounties and forcing him to live hand-to-mouth.

  O’Callaghan only picked on spacers, people whose word stood no chance against that of a galactic marshal in the court system, even if they were in the right.

  Phoebe had no delusions that she would one day stand before a Magistrate to plead her case, but she expected a fair trial. Rigel, by virtue of his home planet, could not expect the same.

  Furious whistles and clicks filled the control room as Phoebe pulled herself out of the machinery. Oolo and Lart appeared to be having an argument. They floated in front of the grav control panel. The gravity indicator read zero.

  Well, at least it wasn’t another malfunction.

  “What’s going on?” It wasn’t that she expected to understand what they said. Sure, she’d started to pick up a little Blarm just being around them, but that was more feelings and broad concepts, not actual words and understanding. Still, her question did interrupt the Blarmlings’ argument. Oolo turned toward Phoebe and gestured toward Lart. It became clear she was blaming him for changing the gravity on the ship.

  Phoebe rubbed the back of her head, which still stung. Lart wasn’t the type to pull pranks, at least he hadn’t been. “Did you have a reason for changing the gravity Lart?”

  Lart started to explain and, of course, Phoebe didn’t follow a word of it, but somewhere in the middle of the explanation Oolo bopped him on the head and started berating him again.

  Phoebe had to laugh. They were so adorable.

  “What he’s saying is that it’s my fault.” Rigel floated into the main cabin from his quarters. “And it is.”

  Rigel wore only a baggy pair of sleep shorts. The burns and scars of his ordeal were beginning to fade. The med unit had done its job, and Rigel was well on his way to recovery. The synthskin was bonding over his washboard abs and bulging biceps, hiding any abrasions and bruising. He looked incredibly yummy. There were scars that would never fade, but somehow those just made him look sexier.

  “Some of my bodily functions are starting to kick in and I needed some mobility my legs refused to give me.”

  Phoebe tried to understand what he was saying. She must have looked puzzled, because Rigel then added, “I had to pee.”

  Phoebe chuckled. “Lart picked up your thoughts and provided a solution.”

  Rigel nodded. “Oolo’s arguing that he should have told you first. Lart’s defense is that you wouldn’t have understood anyway.”

  Oolo and Lart were looking at her with eyes that said they were expecting her to resolve their argument. Phoebe rubbed her sore head. Lart had a point that she wouldn’t have understood what he was saying, if he had tried to warn her. Still, she would have come out of the equipment shaft and not knocked her head, if he’d given her any kind of sign.

  Oolo crossed her arms and gave a smug nod, while Lart hung his head. Phoebe felt sorry for him, and scratched the top of his head. “No harm done, Lart, and you were trying to help Rigel.”

  “Is it okay if we keep the gravity at zero for a while?” Rigel asked. “I could really use a cleansing cycle and I don’t think my legs will support me.”

  Phoebe wasn’t used to working in zero-G, but she did see certain advantages, if she could just get the knack of moving around. Well, no time like the present to improve her skills and it would give Rigel some mobility and privacy.

  “Yeah, go. It will give me a chance to change your bedding as well.”

  Rigel wasn’t fooling her. Even in zero-G she could see how he moved, how much pain he was in. A cleanse would do him good, but after that he was right back in bed. No one recovered from the kind of damage he’d sustained in so short a time.

  Changing the bedding in zero-G proved to be a challenge. With no friction, Phoebe found herself floating away from the bed each time she pushed against it. She constantly had to pull herself back and find something to hook her foot under as she struggled to complete the project before Rigel was finished with his cleansing cycle.

  Though he barely felt it, the cool soapy water cascading over him from the multiple jets in the cleansing chamber caused Rigel to sigh deeply. The memory of his final moments on Alpha Cygnus would haunt him forever. The heat and pain of the fires that threatened to consume him were still very real. He’d been lucky to escape, and wondered if everyone else had gotten off the platform. It would have been a hell of a way to die.

  “Blaze of glory my ass,” he muttered, and dialed down the water temperature another three degrees. The synthetic skin hadn’t completely bonded with his nervous system leaving most of his hide numb. He wondered if he could raise gooseflesh if he lowered the water’s temperature even further.

  Yeah, cold was nice. The only heat he had any interest in, was the heat that built whenever Phoebe was near. He smiled as another bodily function kicked in. His cock pulsed to life and Rigel looked forward to testing this function to its fullest, though even with the cleansing chamber doing most of the work, he was exhausted by the end of the cycle.

  It took all the strength he had to reach his robe and wrap the garment around himself. There was a scent here, light and floral, that was all Phoebe. Had she used his robe after a cleansing cycle? He found the image of Phoebe’s naked body wrapped in his old robe oddly appealing. She’d moved into his ship, but more . . . she’d moved into his life.

  Phoebe’d heard the cleansing chamber stop operation over ten minutes ago. She rapped on the privacy door of the head and got no response. “Rigel?”

  She wanted to give him as much privacy and dignity as she could, but she was pretty sure Rigel was probably floating unconscious on the other side of the door. He was just the type to overdo it.

  She opened the door to check on him. As she’d suspected, Rigel was unconscious. He’d pushed himself too far, too fast. He could have asked for help. Hell, she would have loved to help bathe that incredible body. Still, in the long run the cleansing would do him good, and she had a clean bed to tuck him into.

  He’d probably been trying to put the robe on for her sake, little suspecting that she had no problem looking at his finely toned naked body. The robe hung open, his erect manhood clearly visible, giving Phoebe a pretty clear idea what the man was dreaming about.

  She swam toward him, and managed to pull the robe off his shoulders and hang it back on the hook, then she pushed him into the sleep chamber toward his bed. If her hand happened to brush down the washboard ripples of his abdominals, or linger a bit longer than necessary on that muscular, dimpled butt, who was to know. Yeah, he certainly didn’t need to cover up this luscious, tawny real estate with an old robe. She kind of liked him this way much better.

  Desire turned her core molten. She wanted him well again. She needed his strong arms around her, his lips on hers . . . and yes, that amazing erection inside her once again. Her core clenched, and ripples cascaded through her stomach.

  Gods, he’s so sexy.

  Oolo twittered from the command room.

  “Don’t you dare tell him I thought that!” She’d have to guard her thoughts about Rigel, at least until she was sure how he felt about her. It was really unfair that he could understand the Blarmlings and she couldn’t.

  She had Rigel in position over his bed. “Lart, bring the gravity up to point-one.” It would be enough to keep him in the bed, without putting any undue stress on his healing dermal layers.
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br />   With a sigh of regret, she drew the medical blanket back over his body, tenting it over his still erect member. She kissed his forehead. Tempted as she was to crawl into bed with him, she knew it wasn’t the right time. If he woke while she was with him in bed, he’d probably try something his body wasn’t ready for.

  “But as soon as you’re healthy enough, circus man, I’ll gladly play in your big top.”

  Chapter 20

  “There!” Phoebe pointed at the display. The anomaly on the scan would have been easily missed. A two-micron power signature above the starboard side shield generator antenna. The simple flocculation of oxides, especially on a ship this old, would not be unusual and most would have simply ignored it . . . unless they were specifically looking for a nextgen bug on the ship.

  O’Callaghan must have gotten his hands on some fairly sophisticated equipment to be able to hide the bug so well. Of course, a galactic marshal would have access to the latest technologies.

  Phoebe sent the maintenance droid out the airlock to make a visual confirmation. Sure enough, even on visual it was almost impossible to spot unless you were specifically looking for it.

  She directed the droid to carefully detach the bug. She wanted a closer examination of that technology, then she had plans to send a certain corrupt galactic lawman on a wild romp across the local systems.

  While she waited on the droid, Phoebe wandered into the cargo bay for one last check of the clown car. It was a bare frame, a mere husk of its former glory. Phoebe had salvaged every power line and circuit she could from it. Everything she could use was already implemented into The Blarmlings’ Hope. The rest she’d ordered, catalogued, and stowed just in case she found a use.

  In the corner of the cargo hold that she’d taken for her own, Miss Snotty Pants sat on her hovercase of clothing, staring blankly back at her. “Don’t you dare say I’m not a good mechanic,” Phoebe shot at the stuffed toy. “You can’t build a warp core from old wires and circuits.”

  In her youth, she’d had many long conversations with the stuffed dracophant. Its artificial intelligence and comic voice made it the ‘must have’ toy when Phoebe was a child. She knew her father combed her home system, and paid double what he should have to get one in time for her eighth birthday.

  In a mischievous moment, Phoebe had set the toy’s programming to sarcastic, and named her Miss Snotty Pants. For ten years it questioned and commented on just about everything Phoebe did, acting as conscience and sounding board for a shy and cloistered young woman.

  “A warp core? Why don’t you fix your hair instead? That’s about all you’re good at anyway.” The toy’s high-pitched rasping voice filled the cargo bay.

  “I hate it when you’re right!” She smiled and went to pick up Miss Snotty Pants, hugging the stuffed toy closely. Things had been so much easier when she’d been a child.

  “And I hate it when you hug me.” Phoebe knew Miss Snotty Pants would scream at her, as she planned to continue hugging the soft toy.

  “Don’t you dare silence me.”

  Phoebe chuckled. “I love you too,” she whispered, kissing the toy’s soft head, “but if you don’t shut up, I will turn you off.”

  That command should keep the toy silent for at least an hour. She probably should just turn it off, but just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Still unable to understand the Blarmlings, Miss Snotty Pants was really the only one she had to converse with.

  Phoebe needed to check on Rigel, then get a few hours of sleep, but first she had plans to deal with that bug.

  The hissing of the airlock announced the arrival of the maintenance droid, and she took the small piece of technology from its metallic grip. Her first instinct was to crush it under her boot heel, but she’d already devised a better use for the device. After a thorough scan and examination of the bug, she dropped it into a jettison tube, then loaded the tube into the ship’s pulse canon.

  She headed back into the control room and sank into the command chair, checking the display that was tracking a nearby comet. PEL90236 filled the view screen, the comet’s tail blazing brightly, as The Blarmlings’ Hope approached the shimmering lump of rock and ice.

  Phoebe’s finger slid to the fire button of the pulse canon, as the computer plotted the trajectory of the shot. As soon as the computations showed a lock, she pressed the button. With a soft thunk , the canister shot out, streaking toward the comet. On impact the canister should have enough residual heat to melt its way into the icy surface and freeze beneath.

  Somehow, through it all, Phoebe had kept Miss Snotty Pants tucked under her arm. “That’ll show him,” she said to her old friend.

  Phoebe grinned, imagining O’Callaghan rocketing across the system away from The Blarmlings’ Hope in pursuit of a comet. With any luck the bug would continue to operate and the marshal would be out of their hair.

  Either way, the bug was off the ship. They were at least that much safer.

  Phoebe yawned. The Blarmlings had taken over the cot in the cell, so Phoebe had been sleeping mostly in the command chair. It was comfortable enough, though she tended to wake with a crick in her neck.

  She was just starting to sink into sleep when she remembered that she’d wanted to check on Rigel. Forcing herself out of the command chair, she dragged her tired legs toward the bedchamber. Rigel was snoring softly, the med monitor’s display blinking green. He’d pushed himself harder than he should have, but there didn’t appear to be any problems other than complete exhaustion.

  She’d have to keep a closer eye on him. Injuries like those he’d sustained didn’t mend overnight, though he appeared to be a fast healer. He’d have some of the burn scars for the rest of his life, but Phoebe was determined that would be a very long time.

  Her head was spinning. Her eyes were closed. When had she closed her eyes?

  She forced open one lid, and braced herself against the bed. Rigel had rolled toward the other side, opening up a tempting expanse of soft mattress. In comparison, the command chair seemed hard, and so far away. Giving in, she tumbled into the bed, giving Miss Snotty Pants one final hug before drifting off.

  Rigel woke to a pair of staring black eyes, a long fanged snout, and centered forehead horn. Definitely a Gormorian Dracophant, though small . . . and fuzzy. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. He had to be dreaming again.

  He’d had a number of interesting dreams lately, many of which featured Phoebe prominently. He smiled, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, as his body hardened.

  Right here, in his bed, was where he wanted her, but when he opened his eyes again, the fuzzy little Dracophant was still there. One of its wings now appeared to have sprouted a fall of blonde hair.

  Rigel’s mind fought to put a cognoscente picture together. He reached out and grabbed the soft creature by the arm and lifted it out of the spill of hair. Behind it he found Phoebe, eyes closed, sound asleep.

  Phoebe’s arm had been draped over the stuffed toy, hidden by her hair. Rigel brought the soft animal closer to his face to inspect it.

  “So, who are you my little friend?” he asked softly. He felt circuitry come to life under the plush stuffing.

  “I’m not your little friend, you big lummox. Now put me down!”

  The high, squeaky voice took Rigel by surprise. “Shh. You’ll wake Phoebe.”

  “Ha! That worthless slug needs to get up and get back to work anyway.”

  Phoebe groaned and rolled. “Shut up, you steaming pile of ploppier dung.”

  “I hope she’s talking to you,” both Rigel and the stuffed toy said to each other at the same moment.

  The bed shook as Phoebe descended into giggles. “There’s a micro switch on the back of her neck,” she managed to squeak out.

  Rigel located the small button and turned the toy off.

 
Phoebe rolled to face him and Rigel handed the stuffed animal back to her. She hugged it close, and Rigel fought a pang of jealousy.

  It’s a toy! But Rigel could see the affection Phoebe had for the stuffed animal.

  “Her name is Miss Snotty Pants, and I’ve had her a long time.”

  Recognition dawned. He’d seen this stuffed animal before, laying on Phoebe’s bed on The Sheltered Princess.

  “You managed to sneak back onto your ship?”

  Lost in the pools of her green eyes, Rigel barely heard her respond to his question.

  “O’Callaghan parked his ship and The Sheltered Princess right next to The Blarmlings’ Hope in the spaceport. I took a chance and snuck on to get my stuff and some spare parts.” She lowered her eyes. “It was a stupid chance.”

  Brave came to mind. Resourceful, skilled, big hearted . . . gorgeous. No the woman wasn’t stupid. The low neckline of her lime green top had shifted a bit to the side, revealing the swell of one breast and the hint of a lacy bra.

  “I like your new outfit.” He did. Her clothing was a classy step up from her old shipsuit. “It took me by surprise at the circus when you weren’t wearing your jumpsuit. Did you get all your stuff?”

  His mind wandered to that drawer of sexy underwear on The Sheltered Princess and he felt himself instantly harden. What was she wearing underneath?

  “I did, but I shouldn’t have.” Her eyes were still down, buried in the stuffed animal’s head. Rigel took the opportunity to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear.