Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars

by Melisse Aires

  He obliged with the proper amount of enthusiasm but she still felt uneasy when she left him to dress for the dinner. Maybe it was time to start asking him some questions.

  * * * * *

  When Sara arrived at the dinner party, she was not happy to discover she was the only woman in the room.

  Sara could see both full bird colonels, Carey, Gaedon, Mr. Pretty Leader and his security detail. And Briggs. There were some jarheads stationed around the room, too, their security guys, looking suitably intimidating.

  Fyn had bailed. She didn’t blame him. Couldn’t be that fun to have some twerp looking your wife over like she was a heifer at an auction. But she missed him. It was definitely an odd wedding day, even for someone with low expectations.

  Gaedon saw her enter and directed Helfron’s attention her way. She’d have to thank him for that later.

  The Leader did another examination of her person, spending extra time on her legs, now that they were somewhat visible. Sara could feel her temper try to do its thing. This galaxy was bad for her self-control.

  Gaedon approached her. “The Leader would like to speak to you, Captain.”

  “It’s not like I’m hiding. He wants to talk to me, I’m right here.”

  “If you read the instructions—”

  “Actually, I didn’t get around to it. Sorry.” She smiled, well sort of. A no teeth one.

  “You’re being very difficult.”

  “I only promised to meet him.” She shrugged.

  “It wouldn’t hurt you to talk to him.”

  “You’re appealing to the wrong person.” Briggs joined them with a wide grin. “You want Donovan to move her ass anywhere the colonel’s the man for the job.”

  Sara looked at him. “You just had to tell him, didn’t you?”

  Sara turned back to Gaedon, but he’d already left, on a heading for the Old Man.

  “Let’s get something to drink and see if it works,” Briggs suggested. “Wonder if they are serving actual booze this time?”

  They were, but Sara still chose a glass of fizzy water. No reason to fuel her fire some more.

  “Perhaps we could all be seated.” Kilburn was at his most diplomatic as he directed the seating traffic.

  The Leader looked a bit smug when Sara finally had to enter his orbit. She’d been seated next to him—the same chair she’d sat in for Adin’s visit.

  Great.

  She saw Helfron look at her cover with distaste. He reached for it and she blocked his move with her forearm. He looked surprised. Sara was a bit surprised, too. She hadn’t meant to block him. It just happened. For a long moment they stared at each other through crossed arms.

  He pulled his arm back, but he looked...not happy.

  Actually, she wasn’t supposed to have it on, but since the leader hadn’t liked the Kevlar helmet, she figured he’d hate this one and technically women could wear a hat indoors, as she’d pointed out to Carey when she sought his permission to wear it.

  “Take it off.”

  “Yeah, that’ll happen.” She pulled out her chair and dropped into it with an ungraceful plop. She knew she looked a bit sulky. She’d spent lots of time in various principles offices perfecting the look.

  He sat down, too, a look that was almost bewildered on his face.

  “Why do you do what he says, but ignore my commands?”

  Sara looked at him. “Colonel Halliwell is my commanding officer. If I don’t obey his orders, I get shot.”

  He frowned. “I am a guest. A leader of my people.”

  “I know.” Sara looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent. “That’s why I haven’t tossed you on your pink ass.”

  Gaedon may have whimpered.

  “What is an ass?”

  Sara’s brows arched. It was dang hard to insult someone in this galaxy.

  “An ass is what you’re sitting on. For some guys, it is also where their brain is stored.”

  This time Gaedon did whimper.

  Did the leader’s lips twitch? He might have been amused. It was hard to say. He had the poker face thing down pretty good when he wanted to—though it was a very prissy poker face.

  Sara reminded herself not to under estimate him. He hadn’t gotten to be leader just by wearing…pink.

  “You could not toss me. I am a male. And my guard would stop you.”

  Sara looked at the two men, flanking his chair. Those two couldn’t make her break a sweat, let alone stop her.

  “Yeah, if it makes you feel better. Sure. They’d stop me.” She took a drink of water.

  Now he looked openly amused. “You think you could toss my men on this ass thing?”

  She smiled then. “With my hands tied together.”

  He sat back a bit, his pose an arrogant sprawl. “This I would like to see.”

  Sara started to push her chair back.

  “Captain.”

  She looked at the Old Man. “Yes, sir.” Sulky did a come back.

  The Leader held up his hand. “Please, Colonel. I would like to see this. I assure you my men will not injure her.”

  “It’s not the Captain I’m worried about.”

  Helfron’s brows arched almost to his blonde hairline.

  “You do not know my men.”

  “You don’t know Donovan.”

  They exchanged long stares. Then Helfron snapped his fingers and pointed to the side. His two men moved away from the table.

  Sara looked at them. They didn’t look ready. They were both in the poker-down-the-back stance and staring straight ahead.

  Sara looked at the Old Man.

  He sighed, but finally nodded.

  “It’s their funeral, Donovan.” Briggs grinned a bit evilly.

  Sara pushed back her chair and stood up, using her hands to smooth her skirt down, with just a bit of a hip wriggle. She was not above using feminine crap to tilt the odds in her favor.

  She turned, stepping out of her low heels, feeling the floor with the bottom of her feet, finding her stance. Her skirt was too narrow for her to use her legs really effectively without a lot of sharing. She’d rather avoid it. She started thinking, planning her moves.

  The two men had been staring straight ahead. Now she saw their eyes watch her, though neither man moved anything but the eye balls. They didn’t look too worried as she moved into striking distance.

  Her arm flashed out.

  The guy on the right blocked her with a look that was almost bored on his face.

  “Not bad.” She gave him an approving smile, a half throttle one. Her fist shot toward the guy on the left.

  He blocked it, too. A smirk edged out his bored.

  “Excellent.” She smiled at them again, bumping up the volume on the smile. She gave a small sigh and fluttered her lashes, like she was giving up.

  Their chests puffed a bit. And they took their eyes off her.

  She spun toward the guy on the left, bringing her knee up into his groin. As he doubled over, the other guy started to move in on her. Her elbow jerked back, catching him in the solar plexus. When he doubled over, she applied some more elbow to the back of his neck. He went down. Not on his ass, but close enough to count.

  She shouldn’t have been able to use that move on them again. Apparently they didn’t update their tactics after a skirmish.

  She could have finished off the other guy, but it seemed like over kill. She left him standing there clutching himself.

  When she sat down the silence at the table was…a bit intense. Sara finally looked at Helfron. His expression still didn’t give much away.

  “Gaedon said you were unusual.”

  “Not to be offensive, but I’m really not. Just about anyone on this ship could take those two. Sparring isn’t about being the biggest or even the strongest. It’s about…physics.” Or some kind of science. Maybe.

  “Physics?” He frowned.

  “Force and counter force. Leverage—and surprise. You underestimated me. So did they. They probably won’
t make that mistake again.”

  He grinned. “Neither will I.” He leaned slightly toward her. “And you should not underestimate me.”

  Please, don’t say it.

  “You should know that I always get what I want.”

  He said it.

  She pressed her lips together. That was about to change.

  * * * * *

  Sara excused herself from the meal before dessert—a sacrifice but one she was willing to make—to go prep for the club. And because her stomach was roiling. Didn’t want to power puke it back up, not even into the Leader’s pink lap.

  Sara hadn’t done anything too offensive at dinner. She didn’t want her behavior to reflect badly on the Old Man, the USAF or her country. Mostly she’d tried to ignore the Leader. When that didn’t work, she used monosyllables. And when those didn’t work, she’d just stare at him and blink. Then look away. Helfron didn’t appear to like any of it.

  Life was a bitch sometimes.

  There was one, bad moment when it become clear the Leader already had a bunch of mates back on Gadi. Something Gaedon had completely failed to mention during the negotiation. There was a tense silence at the table, while those who knew her waited to see what she’d say. Or do.

  Sara blinked a couple of times. “How nice for you.”

  The sighs of relief ruffled the edges of her hair.

  “And for my mates. I am very demanding.”

  Sara gave him a fake smile. “I noticed.”

  And it made her nauseous.

  She shoved her chair back. “May I be excused, Colonel? I need to change.”

  In an odd twist, Gaedon seemed relieved to have her leave. Maybe he was nauseous, too.

  She’d thought long and hard about what to wear. Now that she’d met the leader, she still wasn’t sure what the right move was. He was an interesting character study in contrasts. All that pink on the outside and on the inside…what?

  Something about him reminded her of…something, if she could just remember what. Her brain-housing group had just had too much to deal with today. It was more inclined to ache than cough up obscure information.

  She slipped into a pair of Capri length jeans, wondering where Fyn was and if he was all right. Something she’d said was bothering him. Surely he didn’t think that she thought he was a sunshine soldier?

  She pulled on a shirt that left her mid-section bare, slumped off one shoulder, and hugged her body. She found the temporary tattoo and the faux belly ring she won at poker one night, and added them to ensemble.

  She added mousse to her hair, crimping it to wind-tossed with her hands, then applied make-up that made her eyes jump out of her pale face. To her lips she added the same red as her high-heeled shoes.

  Helfron wasn’t the only one who could add a few inches to his height.

  She studied the effect, well, as much as she could see. Her hair was longer than she usually wore it. The extra length worked with her trashy look.

  Lastly, she added her sunglasses. She needed a bit of protection if she was going to do this. She adjusted them part way down her nose, so she could look over them if she needed to.

  She’d already emailed Foster a list of songs to start out with. They all had the benefit of being loud. It was nice of Gaedon to tell the leader Sara had a “quite nice voice.”

  Foster had emailed her back a one-word response: Damn.

  He didn’t seem able to expand on that when he saw her.

  “I was thinking we could do the lights a little differently, too.” Sara tried to ignore the looks the guys were giving her. “I don’t want our guests to see me until the music starts.”

  “What are you up to?” Foster wanted to know.

  “Nothing that hasn’t been approved by the Old Man.”

  “So that guy really does want to marry you?”

  Sara wasn’t offended he sounded surprised. She would have rubbed her face, but she didn’t want to smear her new look.

  “I’m hoping to change his mind.”

  Foster looked her up and down. “I don’t think that’s the way to do it.”

  “He’s the prissy leader of a bunch of planets. Do you really think he wants to marry trailer park trash?”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” He looked her up and down and grinned. “…no I’d still want this.”

  “Well, you’re not a leader person. Can we do it?”

  “Hey, we’re the finest fighting force in three galaxies. We can do anything.”

  * * * * *

  Deliver the girl and all is forgiven.

  Fyn stared at the note, wondering which member of the Gadi delegation was the Ojemba enforcer.

  So, now Kalian knew Fyn was alive and he knew that Miri’s descendent had returned to the galaxy.

  No surprise he wanted her.

  He might believe Fyn would deliver Sara to him. Or he was making sure Fyn wouldn’t…before making his own move on her. Or he was hoping Fyn would believe he had time to consider the order.

  Kalian might accept one of the earth’s ships instead, but he’d know Fyn was more loyal to Sara than the Ojemba. They’d get all the information they could from him and then he’d be eliminated.

  The only way to return and survive was to hand them Sara. And even then, he might not.

  Summer soldiers…

  Sara’s words had cut deep and left him floundering, trying to figure out what kind of soldier he was. He’d sworn an oath to the Ojemba and meant every word. He still did, to the extent that he would give his life to defeat the Dusan.

  He just couldn’t give Sara’s life to them. It was her life to give or not give. She’d chosen her cause and no one should take that from her. Especially not someone who loved her.

  He was going to have to tell Colonel Halliwell about the Ojemba. He’d know Fyn withheld information from him. He’d be disappointed. They might throw him in the brig. Or off the ship.

  He could live with that, but what about Sara? Could he make them understand just how dangerous and deadly the Ojemba was to them and to her? He knew their methods. He’d come up with some of them.

  He couldn’t go to the dinner until he figured out what to do before Sara read all this in his eyes. He’d seen questions in her eyes this afternoon. He didn’t know why she hadn’t asked, was just grateful she hadn’t.

  He wished he could talk to the colonel now, but he was at the dinner, too. So was Carey. He had to be there in the club. That set up was a lot more vulnerable to an Ojemba style attack.

  There wasn’t much Kalian wouldn’t do to get Sara.

  Or much he wouldn’t do to stop him.

  * * * * *

  When his door buzzed, Fyn tensed, wondering if it was Sara, but it was just Carey.

  “You missed a great dinner, Chewie,” he said, still grinning. “Donovan tossed the leader’s guards on their asses, well, sort of, and you should have seen her face when she found out the pretty boy has a freaking harem at home. We got to get a good seat at the club. She’s got some serious steam building up again.”

  He punched Fyn’s arm.

  “Be good for you tonight, if she doesn’t get herself some brig time again.” His brows went up. “You ready?”

  Fyn nodded. If she was in the brig, he’d know where she was. And they might be together.

  When they arrived, the band area was dark, which was odd. He could see figures moving there, so the band was there. Anyone who could be was there had showed up, but the Gadi delegation hadn’t arrived yet.

  Colonel had added plenty of security. There were guys positioned around the room. That was good.

  There was a stir at the door and the guests arrived. Kilburn was in the group, but not the colonel. Fyn wished he dared leave to talk to him.

  He hadn’t felt this itchy since that time he’d been a Dusan watcher near the outpost where Sara came to grief and almost got taken out by a patrol. Something was about to break. He could feel it in his bones.

  Despite the relaxed atmos
phere, it seemed the crew felt it, too. There was an extra watchfulness about them. Of course, there were six ships sitting out there. And a buttload of Dusan ones getting ready to visit.

  When the Gadi leader was settled, Kilburn signaled for the band to start. There was the now familiar stir from the stage, then a scream from one of the instruments signaled it was beginning. The lights flashed on with the slam of music.

  Fyn’s jaw…dropped. Was that his Sara? She looked wild and well, sexy. She’d covered her eyes with dark glasses, and her mouth was a slash of red in her pale face. It was her hair, but…not. It went in all directions, good directions. Sexy directions. Her pants hugged her like they never planned to leave. Her shirt hugged her, too—except for the part that drooped off one shoulder. He’d kissed that shoulder. Something glinted in her bare stomach, catching the light as she moved with the music. She moved…a lot. He’d never seen her move that much. It was really…nice.

  “Damn.” Carey took a deep breath. “Damn.”

  If that was trashy, he liked it.

  The song was loud and wild all the way to the end. When she turned in a circle, singing about tight jeans, Fyn saw something on her back, just above the edge of her pants. A drawing. He wasn’t the only one who liked that. The song was about getting a little crazy, but she looked a lot crazy. In a good way.

  Crazy and loud seemed to be the theme of the first set. As she sang, Sara stayed inside the music, only this time she was letting it out, too. Her voice had a rough edge to it and he vaguely wondered what a wooly bully was. And an Egyptian.

  Even the pictures flashing on the monitors didn’t help that much.

  It was as if she’d finally turned herself loose. At one point she got close to Foster, so close only the microphone separated them. They sang to each other like lovers. He might have got up and punched Foster, but Sara looked over her shoulder and winked at him over the top of the glasses. When she wasn’t singing or playing, she…danced.

  And when she sang, it felt like a verbal throw down—Fyn knew he felt knocked on his ass. When she peeked over the glasses, her eyes were smoky and mysterious and he wanted to go pull her off the stage and show her how married she was again. Stake a claim for everyone to see.

  If the Gadi leader knew Sara was gunning for him, it didn’t show on his face. Helfron looked a bit amused and a bit bored. As if he sensed Fyn’s gaze, he looked at him. There was nothing in the leader’s eyes to make Fyn uneasy but he was.