Sartha suppressed a giggle. He looked at her in blank amazement as if he had been immobilized with a stunner — or perhaps hit by a lightning bolt. Sartha had hoped to put the man off his stride. She had dressed with that in mind, but she hadn’t realized that her plan would be so effective. She watched with delight as a tinge of color flushed his face. Sartha had lost her husband and the people of her world; she had been terrified of being boarded; she had been afraid for the life of her son. Yet despite everything, once she saw Captain Forseth and how uncomfortable she made him, she found it difficult not to laugh out loud. This was going to be so easy. The poor man was embarrassed.
Sartha came toward him, smiling in welcome, presenting her hand. “Hello, gentlemen. I am the Lady Sartha Chayton, Queen of Delian.”
Captain Forseth removed his cap, placing it under his arm. He took her hand, bowed with due ceremony and said in a low voice, “Your Majesty
“Please, Captain,” she said, “we can dispense with formality. You may address me as Lady Sartha.”
He nodded stiffly. “Pleased to meet you, Lady Sartha. I’m Captain Larren Forseth, and these are my officers, Mathes and Keorta.”
Sartha politely inclined her head.
The Captain turned away from her then, and appeared to inspect Assurance’s lounge and servery. The Needle-Class vessel’s living spaces were small, as they had been originally fitted out as fighting vessels. This one had been converted. The galley was generously laid out with more lavish design. Sartha thought it likely that Captain Forseth was not really looking at the interior of Assurance. He was probably taking a moment to gather his wits.
Forseth swung to face her, cleared his throat and said with a touch of humor in his voice, “Unless my senses deceive me, Lady, I detect the unique aroma of freshly brewed coffee.”
Sartha smiled and nodded graciously. “It is indeed, Captain.” Gesturing toward the dining area she added, “Would you and your men care to join me for a drink? Or perhaps you want something stronger?” Sartha knew Captain Forseth would never allow himself or his men to drink while on duty, but she decided that it wouldn’t hurt to test him. One of her eyebrows arched in question as she mischievously gestured to a bottle of Penatrale Umbra. Umbra was a potent liqueur, distilled from malted barley, cinnamon spices and cherries; it was a luxurious treat, considered a celebratory drink on Delian.
The Captain gave a low chuckle. “We’re honored to join you. Coffee only, I thank you.”
Sartha’s lips twitched. She wanted to laugh out loud with relief. Of course he wouldn’t drink on duty — not Captain Forseth. During the few minutes before the men came aboard, she had mind-touched the good Captain. Although brief, contact had been most satisfactory. Captain Forseth, she was pleased to discover, was a good man. His intentions were to help others. He had a strong sense of justice, and would never abuse his position. Oh, yes, she had nothing to fear from him.
“Please be seated,” she offered, and directed the men to the dining chairs.
Captain Forseth and Keorta sat down, but Mathes remained standing, with his back to the wall. Sartha looked at the officer quizzically, silently offering a chair, but the fellow remained unmoving. Vigilant, the man was preparing for an attack — protecting his Captain, no doubt. She didn’t press the subject. Instead she politely acted as though it was not unusual for one of her guests to stand near her dining table well-armed and intent.
Sartha poured out the coffee.
As the two men stirred in milk and cream and took their first sips, Sartha thought of Ash. He was safely hidden. She hated to leave him for so long without word, but it was for the best. While she was sure these men had nothing to do with the asphyxiating death of her people, it was best to trust no one. She was frightened that information might get back to Admiral Neopol and Conqueror. They could be searching for her even now. As she sat and prepared her own coffee, she gazed at the Freeworld patrolman.
Incredible as it seemed, she found herself drawn toward Captain Forseth. A kindred spirit, he shared some inner loss or grief. He had suffered the despair of failure. It was a shame that she hadn’t had enough time to discover more.
Strangely, Captain Forseth held a hard, rugged attraction. Patrol regalia suited him. He was tall — at least six four, broad shouldered, and lean. In his early 30s, he already had distinguished if premature gray in his brown hair. He was not vain, then, or he would have genetically modified that gray. Unless, of course, he was a Naturalist. She noticed the barest shadow on his face. Why hadn’t he had his beard permanently removed? Most men did, yet he chose to shave.
A Traditionalist, then? He looked as if he had seen and experienced all manner of life, yet it didn’t appear to have affected him. Neither cynical nor cruel, he was genuinely friendly, and his light brown eyes showed compassion and humor. But one couldn’t call Captain Forseth truly handsome — not with that ill-set broken nose and the unsightly scar that ran from his left ear to his chin. The scar appeared to be the result of a burn, the skin pink and waxy, melted across his cheek. These injuries must be recent, or surely he would have had cosmetic repair to eradicate such disfigurements. “Body Beautiful” was the accepted norm across the Freeworlds. She studied him, curious as to what could have made such a vicious wound. Laser?
Forseth looked up at her scrutiny.
Sartha’s heart jumped. Attempting to conceal her discomposure, she quickly looked away from his intense regard. She busied herself with the plates, feeling awkward, like a child caught trespassing on something private.
Sartha set her face determinedly. Friendly or not, Captain Forseth could still be a threat to her son, and she knew the best way to handle him. Through her gift she was aware that he felt ill at ease with attractive women, although she had been unable to determine why. Her manner of dress had intentionally been sexually alluring; her generous cleavage left little to the imagination. Sartha thought of Jarith, the love of her life. It felt wrong to dress this way, with him laying unburied on Delian, but it was necessary. She would put this Captain on the defensive. Soon he would be so uncomfortable that he would find it necessary to leave. Then she and Ash would continue their journey to Kalar.
Sartha sighed. She would like to confide in the man, but she simply couldn’t take the risk. She sat down with her guests, poured her own coffee and stirred in some cream.
“This is wonderful, Lady,” said Forseth. He raised his cup to his lips. “I must remember to stop Assurance whenever she undertakes a journey.”
Sartha laughed. “Certainly, Captain. You would be most welcome.” She leaned toward him provocatively, displaying her generous cleavage. “And tell me, sir, is it only the coffee you seek in this visit or,” she finished in a throaty, sensual voice, “is there something else you wish me to provide?”
Captain Forseth coughed as he almost choked on his coffee. All conversation stopped as everyone in the room looked at him in some surprise. He had spilled his beverage and the Lady Sartha was already wiping up the small spill.
He cleared his throat. “Ah, no, Lady. Routine stop only.” Forseth appeared to find an interest in his cup. “Ah, we are patrolling these lanes and are required to search any vessels for contraband, illegal passage — the, uh, usual things,” he finished lamely.
Sartha looked up at him through her lashes, her lips in a pout. It was a sensual invitation. “You are certainly most welcome to have as close a look as you like,” she added suggestively, “at anything aboard this vessel.”
Forseth actually squirmed, Sartha noted with satisfaction. She had taken him by surprise. No doubt he was already planning an escape back to the safety of his ship. He ran a nervous finger under the collar around his neck. What would he do now? she wondered. Now that he had an uncontrollable desire to flee, would he make an excuse and just go?
“Ah, Lady, duty requires that I ask you a few questions.” Forseth stood up and took a step backwards. His sudden clumsy movement jarred the table.
Sartha hid a smile. So.
It seemed that when stressed he resorted to set police procedures. Throughout the visit the Captain had avoided looking directly at her face, or at her body. She, on the other hand, couldn’t take her eyes off him. So much had happened. She had been so worried, terrified of being boarded, frightened of this man. Finding out that he was more uncomfortable around her than she around him made her want to laugh out loud. It was amusing to watch such a confident man behave like an awkward adolescent.
Captain Forseth activated his remote, mumbled the place, date and subject. “Ah … now, what is your destination, and why are you in normal space?”
In her satisfaction at seeing Forseth squirm, Sartha had forgotten her story. She hesitated and blinked. Then she bit her lip and glanced up and to the left. What had she planned to say?
Forseth’s expression lost all trace of uneasiness and he became abnormally still. His dark intelligent eyes remained on her face.
“Well, Captain,” she said, “we were on our way to the holiday satellite, Seira Nuvon …”
“And?” He straightened, his attention focusing like a missile tracking a target. Forseth’s eyes met hers.
Sartha flushed under his penetrating regard. She spread her hands deprecatingly. “I inadvertently activated emergency purge. Since then I have been stranded in normal space until I can get to an Omni corridor.”
“I see. And who else is on board?”
Sartha gave him an innocent expression. “Why, no one else.”
“You said we.” Forseth positively jumped on it.
“I did? I must have meant my monkey. Poor Romeo died and left me all alone.”
“Too bad,” Captain Forseth said sincerely. He shook his head back and forth, while looking straight at her. She felt exposed, as if he could suddenly see past all her carefully constructed camouflage — as if he knew what she had been doing, and why. Impossible. Sartha’s breath caught with apprehension. But the man had such a peculiar expression in his eyes. What was it? It looked almost like regret. No. It was as if he genuinely felt sorry for her. But not for the loss of her imaginary monkey. The man looked like he was sorry for something he planned to do.
Then, just like that, Forseth relaxed completely. He smiled a self-satisfied grin and absently switched off the remote. He said in a low, soft tone, “Well, you poor thing. Have you been lonely without Romeo? It must have been difficult, travelling in a big ship like this all by yourself. You must have wanted company.” His voice was loaded with sexual connotation.
“Oh, no, sir. I’ve been quite comfortable, I assure you, sir.”
“My dear,” he said. He reached over and gripped her hand possessively. “I think that I will take you up on your kind offer to make a complete search of everything on this ship. Everything,” he stressed the last word as he towered over her even while seated. He looked at her in a hard, cold stare.
“You will?” She pulled her hand in a futile attempt to get him to release her.
Forseth tightened his grip. “I will.”
The room seemed a frozen tableau. All the men wore weapons. One man stood guard near the exit; two men and one unarmed woman were seated at the table. The largest man leaned with purpose toward the only woman in the room, and he gripped her hand in a firm, restraining clasp.
Amongst all these dangerous men, Sartha looked slight and vulnerable.
Lady Sartha’s mind was in turmoil. What should she do? How had she misread the Captain of Darla Wu to this degree? Could she have touched someone else?
Sartha wondered desperately what kind of trouble she had gotten herself into. More importantly, she wondered how she was going to get herself out of it!
5. Unexpected Answers
Icom: Interface Communications Online Management. Thanks to the cortical plasticity of the brain, signals from the neural implant are handled through effector channels. Thought controls audio, visual and holovid access, creating the ability to text, read and communicate. Icom is hosted by each world, as distance between worlds is too great for real-time access. Updates are provided by UWG info ships.
— Distinguished Professor Emeritus Allan Dyen-Shapiro, Icompedia
Larren Forseth, Captain of the police cruiser Darla Wu, sat in the galley of Assurance, holding Lady Sartha’s hand.
He wasn’t really holding her hand, he realized with an internal smirk. It was more like he had captured it. And the woman may as well be in handcuffs, because he didn’t plan on letting her go anytime soon. Larren picked up his cup of coffee and drank down the last of it without once taking his eyes off the Lady Sartha. He made his movements casual, almost languid, but his mind was alert, his body tense and ready. The satisfying taste of coffee on his tongue only added to the pure pleasure of the moment. Larren was a big man, and he was more than happy to use his size to intimidate or subdue a suspect. Right now he was looking forward to doing just that, because he intended to get some answers.
The silence in the room extended between them all, Mathes, Keorta, Larren and the woman. But between the Lady Sartha and Larren there was more than silence.
Tension stretched, linking them both like an invisible magnetic force.
Abruptly Larren stood up, intentionally towering over the Queen of Delian. His expression implacable, he gave her a stern glance. The woman looked up at him with wide eyes. Larren thought she looked frightened.
Good, he thought. So she should be, lying to the police. His lips curled in a derisive grin. To hell with what the men would think. He could explain his actions to his team later. Right now he was going to call her bluff and find out what was going on.
“Gentlemen,” he said, nodding toward his security detail, while keeping his relentless grip on the Lady Sartha’s hand. “Stay put. No one in or out; weapons at the ready. Send a message to our pilot that we’ve been delayed, but tell him everything is under control. I will be temporarily occupied in an inspection.” He raised his eyebrows at Sartha, daring her to refuse him.
The Lady Sartha didn’t refuse him.
Leaving his officers staring open-mouthed with surprise and envy, he pulled Sartha to her feet. He retained possession of her hand and pulled her along, unwillingly trailing in tow. She was wearing a subtle scent that made his stomach clench with desire. Her slender, feminine hand was dwarfed in his, and her skin was soft and smooth. He could almost feel perspiration beginning to form at the back of his neck. It had been so long since he had held a woman, especially a woman like her. He became aroused at the prospect. And she was Royalty. Yet here she was, claiming to be alone in normal space.
Accessing Assurance’s floor plan through Icom, Larren strode briskly down the corridor. He knew exactly where he was going.
He remembered when he first set eyes on the woman. He had known the Lady Sartha was trouble even then. Her gown had matched her eyes. They were the most beautiful light cobalt blue that he had ever seen. Had they been enhanced? Not an uncommon procedure these days. A thin dark blue rimmed each eye. Fascinated, he had wanted to look more closely, to examine those unique colors. But of course he had suppressed the impulse. Why was he always burdened with the good-looking ones? He could handle any number of hardened criminals while on duty, but a lady, especially a beautiful lady, was impossible. They made him nervous.
“Worlds of Perdition,” Larren swore under his breath. The woman was up to something. He knew it. But a full-scale ship search would be an embarrassing insult, and it seemed so unnecessary. It was hard to imagine her as a member of the Alliance, and even more inconceivable that she could belong to a pirate’s guild. Her ID checked out. She was Queen of Delian. She wasn’t engaged in something criminal, he’d bet a year’s pay on it. More likely she was in some sort of trouble. Queen or not, she was still trying to cover something up, and it was his job to get to the bottom of it. But what would someone like her need to conceal from the police?
He passed the first door in the corridor — he wanted the next one on the right. As he walked he could feel Lady Sartha’s weight as he pulle
d her along behind. She didn’t want to go with him, but she would do what he said, he thought with a growl. She had lied, and tried to trick him, and she had nearly succeeded. But he was calling the shots now.
The woman was a poor liar, which really was to her credit. The Lady Sartha had been unaware that the United Worlds Government stopped all travel to Seira Nuvon two months ago except for service personnel. And that business about a pet monkey named Romeo — ha to that. He had truly caught her out there. Five minutes with a DNA sampler would prove no monkey had ever been on board. No, there was someone else on this ship. Someone she wanted to hide, maybe more than one person.
How had she known that he felt uncomfortable when dealing with a beautiful woman? She had taken him by surprise with that sexual innuendo. She had practically thrust her breasts in his face and said, “Tell me, sir, is there something else you wish me to provide?” Somehow she knew his vulnerability and had been trying to make him leave. It had almost worked, too. The Lady would have gotten away with it, if she hadn’t slipped up.
He smiled. Well, he had the upper hand now. He located the largest bedroom and mentally opened the door. Without preamble, he pulled the Lady Sartha in and swung her heavily down on the double bed. The door shut and locked.
Sartha sat rigid, hands clapped in front of her, chin up, defiant. She stared straight ahead, not yet able to meet his eyes.
Larren studied her. The pulse pounded in her throat. She trembled and moistened her lips. A momentary twinge of conscience pricked him, but this was quickly eclipsed by the pleasure of triumph. He had certainly gotten even with the Lady Sartha! He sat down beside the woman and hid a smirk as she instinctively shrank away. She was really frightened.
The insanity of the situation was too much. Larren began to chuckle. The idea that a woman would be afraid of being molested — by him. That he would either need or want to resort to such methods. He chuckled at first almost noiselessly and then with more and more volume. Eventually he stood up, hands on his stomach, his laughter quite unrestrained.
WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) Page 6