Kiri walked through the port to the spotless, shaded splendor of the LodeStar docks, a bag containing her strongbox banging on her back. She searched the holodisplay for Orion's ETA. Just as the captain said, the cruise ship had not yet landed.
She found a lav, used it, washed her hands and face, dabbed water in her unruly hair, grimacing at her pale, tired visage. Gah, she looked worse than the first time Stark had seen her.
Then she straightened her shoulders. She might look a bit rough, but inside she was better, stronger than the woman she'd been then. She'd learned not just to take help from someone stronger, like Stark, but to be part of a group. She hadn't wanted to be aboard the SixPac, but she'd pitched in and done her best, helped those who helped her.
She'd even spent her last day aboard teaching Gravia all her secrets of making great coffee. Thanks to her, the SixPac had a permanent barista.
But Kiri had learned some things herself. She didn't need to chase security. She had everything she needed within her. Scala was right; she could make her own family wherever she ended up. Like many of the immis streaming into this port would do. Some had brought their families or at least a mate, but as many were alone. Didn't mean they had to stay that way.
Also didn't mean they had to accept less than they deserved. Neither did she. She'd give Stark a chance to explain himself and then … then she'd decide. Her heart yearned to stay with him, but she was perilously close to giving him her heart along with her body. If he didn't return her feelings, that way lay heartbreak and shame.
She smiled wryly at herself. Her voyage had shaken her out of her world, but maybe it had given her a bigger one.
Back on the concourse, she gaped at the cloudless sky overhead, and the green trees dancing in the warm breezes. It was like a giant travel holovid. It was late spring on this side of Frontiera, Gim had told her. It would be hot in a month but now it was warm and balmy.
Scala had given her a pair of sun goggles to protect her eyes, and warned her to be careful in the sun when it was directly overhead, until her skin was used to it. Kiri was glad of the eye protection. This sun was not just part of a holovid, it was real, warm and very bright.
She pushed the goggles up onto her head and wandered through the space port, smiling back at friendly faces and enjoying the unfettered openness of the huge airy dome, with openings at intervals to let fresh air and sunlight in. The dome made her feel protected, used as she was to the cloisters of life indoors. But it let her experience the outdoors, too.
She sat again, out of the way of the busy luggage porters with their hovies, and the beings waiting either to leave or for someone to arrive. Some of them were as scruffy as she felt. Most of the beings immigrating here were workers, like her, here for a better life.
If she were going to stay here, she would take Scala's advice and open a coffee stand or two. Everybody needed java, especially tired space travelers. She could probably make a killing here, get in before MoonPenny or another big chain. She hadn't seen one real coffee stand in the place, just a cheap dispenser in an open cafeteria. Probably made lousy coffee.
Then a huge ship sailed into view, hidden by the dome but visible on the holovid screens. Kiri forgot her musings, her stomach knotting. The Orion had arrived.
She was beautiful, a graceful silver shape towed in by port authority craft to her landing dock. Kiri's heart began to pound a swift rhythm. This was Logan's ship; one of his fleet.
He would walk off the ship any sec and see that she was alive. That she hadn't left him, not willingly. Was Scala right, that he'd only been barricading his emotions behind disparaging words? Did he really care for her? Or had he said exactly what he meant? When he saw her, would he consider her a fool who'd gotten what she deserved?
Not that her future hung on this, or anything, she assured herself. She just wanted some closure, that was all. Before she got on with her life.
Once the huge ship docked, one section of the dome lifted, and the side of the ship was visible. Landing ports slid slowly open, and port authority officials bustled to work, roping off landing areas and readying their rosters to register the new arrivals.
Unable to sit any longer. Kiri eased closer to stand by the ropes designating a wide walk way for those disembarking.
Logan.
* * *
Steve Craig surveyed the holovid displays from the control room of his ship. He had a clear view of the departing passengers, the landing zones, and the port terminal. Everything routine, he noted with satisfaction. Even the Tygers were departing in an orderly fashion. Another successful voyage—and a peaceful one.
Idly, he scanned those waiting for departing passengers. Then his gaze stopped, caught by a slim form waiting at one of the gates.
"Close-up, gate three." The holocams zoomed in on a woman peering between other travelers. He squinted then scowled. She looked familiar. Why? A passenger from a past voyage? She was very pretty but a bit bedraggled, her face dirty. No, by the seven hells, that was a faded bruise. A dockworker, perhaps?
But as he watched, the woman froze. Her lovely face paled, as if she'd seen a specter. She shook her head once in denial, and then turned and bolted away from the cameras, disappearing into the crowds.
Craig flicked an assessing glance over the disembarking passengers, enjoying his little mystery. What had she seen that so distressed her?
Then he saw it—or rather them. Logan Stark strolling off his flagship, a slight smile on his face as he looked down at the woman on his arm. A lovely, Serpentian blonde with a smug tilt to her head and satisfaction in every step.
"Quark it," Captain Craig swore viciously, startling the crew members working in the control room. He knew now where he'd seen the woman.
He cued his comlink. "Mr. Stark," he said crisply. "Return to the command center, please. Mr. Stark to the command center."
* * *
Stark was not pleased to be summoned back onto his ship. He wanted away, where he could link with his people, find out if there'd been any new developments in the search for Kiri. Barring that, he was ready to battle wild beasts or something equally barbaric. That would certainly burn up some of the fire in his belly. This waiting was hell.
Kiri was supposed to have been at his side when he walked off the ship. He'd been looking forward to the expression on her face, to hearing that delighted chuckle when she saw new vistas, new creatures, and experienced the sheer freedom of being outdoors in the clean wild.
Now she was somewhere, God and Tal Darkrunner only knew where, and according to his Indigon security specialist, who had ascertained that Darkrunner had been telling the truth when he said he'd removed Kiri from danger in New Seattle, this whole mess was Stark's own fault, for failing to keep Kiri safe.
"Please excuse me," he murmured to Raava.
"Of course."
Stark walked back onto the ship and took an elevator up to the top of the ship. He strode into the command center to find his friend and captain waiting for him, a peculiar look on his face.
"You need to see this," Craig said without preamble.
Stark froze, staring at the holovid image of the woman waiting by the ropes, her eyes wide as she surveyed the landing ports. She was here. Right here—he needn't search for her any more at all.
But great God, was that a bruise on her face? What level of hell had she been through, to look like a battered wraith of herself? She'd lost weight, her leathers hanging on her.
Forget killing a wild beast. He was going to kill Tal Darkrunner—with his bare hands. Slowly. The ganger had not taken good care of his little cat.
"Is that her?" Craig asked quietly.
Stark blinked. "What?"
"Is that the woman I saw you with on Earth II?"
"Yes. When was this made?" Stark demanded. "How long ago?" She might be gone already.
"Less than ten minutes."
She was outside now. Stark turned sharply, but Craig stopped him, a hand on his arm. "Logan, watch the rest," h
e counseled, a look of near pity in his blue eyes.
Quivering with impatience, Stark watched. His gut tightened as Kiri's eager look changed to one of denial, then pain. She turned and disappeared into the crowd.
He froze, realizing what she'd seen even before the holovid changed—Raava sauntering off the ship clinging possessively to his arm, as he smiled down at her, apparently a man without a care in the world. With no sign of the anger and tension roiling inside him. Quark, maybe he'd gotten too good at maintaining a facade.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, but it did nothing to clear away his shock or the shame spreading sickly inside him. That look on her face ... undeserved. And his fault.
"I've got to find her."
"Port authority's already on it." Craig's comlink chimed, and he nodded. "In fact, that should be them now."
Chapter 38
Kiri could not believe her quarking luck.
Had the entire universe turned against her? She'd finally made it off the ship from hell, onto a strange planet, just in time to see Logan cozying up to a leggy blonde. And now she was being detained by the Frontiera Port Authority.
"I haven't done anything," she insisted, dodging the helmets who were trying to herd her toward a door in the side of the concourse. "I was shanghaied, worked my way to your backward quarking planet, just got off the quarking ship and I haven't done anything!"
She clenched her fists, glaring as passersby stared. Why did all her most embarrassing moments happen in space ports?
Fighting tears, she followed as she was hustled through the door and into a quiet room.
The door closed behind her, and the room was silent. Good, maybe they'd left her alone. Except that she could feel someone in the room with her. Fighting for calm, she turned, ready to give them a piece of her mind.
She froze and then stumbled backward, away from the man who stood, regarding her silently, face taut, gaze molten silver.
"No." She shook her head in fierce denial, a perverse part of her reveling as Stark's face paled and creases of strain bracketed his mouth.
"Stay away from me. You quarking liar."
He said nothing, merely stared at her, as if he wasn't sure she was real.
Fine, then. She had things to say, even if he didn't. She paced, spearing her fingers through her hair as the story poured out of her in disjointed pieces.
"First Tal shanghaied me. I woke up on that stinking ship. You know how scared I was to fly? Well, their engines failed twice. I thought I was going to die out there.
"I had to work and fight—they tried to rape me, did you know that? Tried to force me and steal my leathers—that I've worked in and slept in for a week. Bet I don't smell very sweet, huh, Stark? Better go back to your high-class whore, who gets to bathe every day and go to sleep without waking up at every quarking noise, wondering if they're back to finish it."
His eyes blazed. "Just tell me why. Why did you go to him, Kiri? Why did you leave Rak behind, when he was there to keep you safe?"
She shook her head in disgust. "Simple. So simple. Because Tal had my strongbox." She hugged her rucksack, feeling the familiar shape inside.
"Why didn't you ask me for help?" he demanded.
"Why?" She glared at him. "Because I heard you, that's why. I heard you telling your brothers what you really think of me. You made me—I thought—no, never mind that. Guess my pride was all I had left, Stark. So I went by myself.
"He gave it to me all right. And then he drugged me. Said someone wanted me gone. Was it you? Was it?"
Stark shook his head sharply in pained negation then stepped closer, as if compelled. "Of course it wasn't me, you little fool."
She backed away. "I'm a fool all right. I cried for you." Her voice was shaking now. "Wondered if you thought I was dead—and then ... then you walked off your ship with your fancy woman—you had her, didn't you? While you were on that ship."
The look in his eyes, the dull creep of red across his cheekbones said it all.
She leaned against a table, her legs almost too weak to hold her upright.
"Didn't take you long. Did you even notice I was gone?"
"I noticed," he said harshly.
She grabbed at the table for support. "Bet you didn't. I was just 'your current woman. A sweet c-cunt'." She watched that strike home.
Striding to her, Stark swept her high in his arms and held her so tightly she couldn't move.
"Kiri, I didn't mean it—shouldn't have said it. You're more than that. I noticed you were gone, all right. And I'm not letting you go again."
She should struggle, should insist he let her go her own way. But she was so tired of fighting.
As he strode out through the door onto the busy concourse, Kiri closed her eyes and turned her face into his neck, hiding from curious eyes. Hiding from reality.
Stark reality.
Opal was aboard the cruiser. She actually smiled at Kiri.
"Here, have a warm drink," she coaxed. "It will calm you."
Kiri shook her head.
"Just tea with honey," the other woman said. "A little brandy. No drugs. I wouldn't do that."
Stark took the cup and held it to Kiri's lips. "Drink it."
The habit of her time in his arms kicked in. She did as he said. Her eyes widened at the burn of the drink—it held more than a little brandy.
Slowly the shivering locked in her muscles subsided, but she was wary of relaxing into the powerful arms that held her close, into the hand that stroked through her tousled hair.
"You can let me go," she muttered.
Stark snorted. "Not a chance. Just be still."
He was so warm. When she sank wearily against him, his heart beat a comforting rhythm beneath her ear. It lulled her, as did his scent, his breath stirring her hair.
Logan. Did she whisper it, or just think it? His arms tightened around her, pulling her head into the crook of his neck.
She woke a little as she was carried into a building, then slept again, this time deeply, in a bed soft as a cloud.
The next time she woke, she felt rested, but her stomach was growling, hollow. She squinted, turning her head to look around. She was in another strange place, but this was a room. In a building, not aboard a ship. The walls were a soft cream, with furniture of something that looked a lot like real wood she'd seen in museums and a patterned comforter on the bed in greens and yellows. When she sat up, she grimaced. She still wore her much-laundered lace undies and the top Scala had given her.
A strange light shone around the edges of the coverings on the big windows. She slid out of the bed and padded barefoot to the window. Pulling back the shade, she peered outside. She gasped in awe.
Outside the window lay nothing but green. A meadow. She'd seen them in the holovids. Grass waved gently in the wind, as did the trees and shrubs that edged the meadow. Many of the trees were as tall as a four-story building, with long heavy limbs, their needles a dark green. She'd known they grew to be so monolithic from the holovids, but see them in reality was amazing.
Over it all rose a vault of sky so pure and blue she could scarcely believe it was real.
A man and two children were walking across the meadow. They stopped to point every other step, and the smallest child bounced excitedly and then threw herself on the grass and rolled, while the boy and the man laughed. Cute kid. They must be immis, too.
"What do you think?"
Kiri froze. Stark's deep voice was gentle, as if he didn't want to alarm her. Well, so what?
She turned away without looking at him, anger a tight ball in her chest. "I need a shower-dry. And some clothes."
He walked past her to open a closet. "Your things are here."
Her things? She stared into the closet. There were her pretty gold sweater and leggings and her slippers on the rack. And an open drawer revealed undies.
"You brought my stuff?" Something like hope fluttered inside her.
He was silent for a moment. "Natan had your bags pu
t in the Orion's hold."
Of course it hadn't been Stark. He'd sailed off as if she didn't matter at all. She walked into the closet and grabbed the gold ensemble, along with a pair of undies. Then she turned on her heel and walked into the lav, closing the door behind her with a thud.
It felt so good to be in a real shower-dry with unlimited hot water and scented soap, she stayed there until her fingers began to wrinkle. Then at last she dried off in the jets of air and stepped out. Her lotion sat on the counter and her cosmetics were in the mirrored cabinet.
She didn't feel like bothering with that nonsense, so she slapped lotion on her skin and pulled her clothing on, finger combing her hair. Even clean, she looked like a ghost of herself—pale and tired, with dark shadows under her eyes. The bruise on her cheekbone from her fight with the Serps was an interesting but ugly shade of yellowish green.
Her stomach growled again as she emerged into the bedroom. As if summoned, Stark appeared in the long doors thrown open to the outside. He was a tall silhouette, burnished by the sunlight pouring around him. She looked away Hurt her eyes to look at him, in more ways than one.
"Come and eat," he told her.
She stepped warily out onto a small verandah, set with a table and two chairs. It was set with covered serving dishes and two carafes, one of bright orange juice and one that steamed—coffee she supposed.
"It's afternoon here, but I ordered breakfast," Stark said, pulling out a chair for her. "Since you just woke."
She sat down in the other chair, scooting it in herself. She wasn't looking at him in his fitted brown knit shirt that matched his hair, the sleeves pulled up over his powerful forearms. He might look fine enough to be the captain of all he surveyed, but he wasn't her captain, not any more.
"How long did I sleep?"
She poured herself a glass of juice and then looked at him inquiringly. He nodded, and she poured him a glass of juice as well. When she looked up, he was staring at the bruise on her cheek, murder in his eyes.
"Since yesterday. Twenty-four hours, give or take. Coffee?"
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 105