Promises to Keep

by Promises To Keep (lit) (NCP)

  Symon led them to a large room already filled with other women from the ship. Sarah recognized several of the others standing near the large double doors on the opposite wall and went toward them, Laura in tow.

  The room was large and stylish, with plush carpeting, cushioned couches, and attractive paintings, more like the ballroom of a fine hotel than a ship’s assembly hall. Sarah felt awkwardly underdressed in her worn robe and slippers. It was embarrassing.

  Symon told them to wait, then disappeared. The men accompanying him came in and lined the walls. Sarah wondered if the men were there to protect or to keep an eye on them.

  As far as she could see, all The Dove passengers were there, still in the nightclothes they were wearing when rousted out of bed. Again Sarah was struck by the fact that none of the crew of their former transport had made it into the life-pods. Some of the women looked frightened, some angry, and all of them surprised to find themselves in such elegant surroundings.

  The large doors near her opened and several more men entered, taking up positions on either side. Symon returned and positioned himself as if waiting for someone else.

  Finally a single man strode in. Pale-complexioned and dark haired, he had a thin mouth and piercing, dark-blue eyes. Not an ugly face. Some people might actually call him handsome. In odd contrast to the other men in their bright colored clothing, his outfit was completely black.

  Sarah’s heart sped up and her mouth went dry. Evil, loathsome, she’d called him. General Garran in the flesh, leader of the Gaian opposition.

  Karen’s killer.

  As he entered, dead silence ruled the room. The women closest to the doors moved back, eyes wide, bodies poised to run. One large woman named Jenny gasped in terror. Sarah had met her during orientation and learned she’d been a cook at Hannah’s Hideaway. Jenny wasn’t very intelligent, but she had a big heart and Sarah liked her.

  The General approached them. "Ladies, welcome to The Promise."

  Jenny cried out. "The Promise? Oh no! Oh no, mercy no. It’s the ‘Beast,’ we’re all going to be killed!" She covered her face with her hands.

  He stared at her with a fierce scowl. "Oh, shut up, you idiot woman. No one is going to hurt you!"

  Jenny collapsed in hysterical tears.

  Fury flooded Sarah. THAT. WAS. IT! Awakened from a pleasant dream, stuffed into a life-pod wearing only her bedclothes, no coffee, and now this, a bullying black-shirted tyrant! Before Sarah could think, she marched over to the man. Her hand swung around hard, striking the General across the face. The sound of the slap ricocheted in the silence of the room, louder than Jenny’s sobbing. He stared at her, stepped back, putting his hand to his reddening cheek.

  Her hand tingled. Ignoring it, Sarah thrust it onto her hip and glared. "How dare you, you monster! How dare you talk to her like that? She’s frightened enough without you making it worse!"

  The General’s eyes widened. His mouth opened, then closed, like a fish out of water. The rest of his face reddened to match the cheek where she’d struck him. An odd, unfocused expression filled his face and one hand reached for her. Instinctively she stepped back.

  He turned and rushed from the room as if driven by demons.

  Symon stared after him, his mouth agape. He turned, his voice urgent. "Please wait, I’ll be right back!" then hurried out, closing the doors behind him.

  Immediately the room erupted into cheers.

  "Way to go, Sarah!"

  "That’s telling him!"

  "I guess he won’t try and mess with us again!"

  Jenny flung her arms around Sarah and hugged her so tight it forced the breath from her lungs, exasperating the disorientation already flooding through her. "Heaven bless you, Sarah."

  As the big woman let her go Sarah’s knees buckled and Laura caught her and pulled her to one of the couches. Dizzy and overwhelmed, she tried to make sense of it. They were on The Promise, the General’s personal flagship and pride of the Gaian fleet.

  How in all of the universe had they ended up here?

  Chapter Three

  The wall felt cool under his forehead, heat from his skin radiating into the metal. Both his hands pressed hard against the smooth surface, seeking a comforting stability, and for a moment his presence of mind returned. Lifting his head, Garran looked around, but no one was about, no one had followed him from the meeting chamber. He was alone in the corridor.

  Thanks heavens for small favors. That’s all he needed, to be seen in this condition.

  Deep breaths, in, out, in--repeat. Remember the training, how to handle the intense sensation of attachment, lessons he’d learned so long ago. Training he’d never thought to need again.

  Memory flared, of Metta, his wife, and the day he’d attached to her. Briefly he tried to call up her face, but his sweet lady’s beloved features were obscured, washed out, somehow replaced by a visage with red hair and green eyes.

  No, it couldn’t be. After all this time, why now, why one of these women? In the past year he’d tried four times to reattach, five hundred women in all and nothing had happened. ‘Immune’ the doctors had finally labeled him, once they’d finished their tests. He’d become immune to the attachment essence a woman exuded from her skin, her hair, through the very breath of her body. He had an unwanted immunity to that which would give him someone to love, a companion, and a family.

  So, why now? Why her, a woman with fire in her hair--and a strong right arm? His face still hurt where she’d struck him, but that wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the bulge in his pants.

  Hell on Earth, he was a man again.

  "Garran." Symon appeared at his side and slowly Garran turned from the wall to face him. The idiot was practically grinning at him. "Did you just do what I think you just did?"

  Flushed, he pushed away from the wall, turned, scowled. "You needn’t look so pleased, Symon. I’m certainly not."

  From inside the room, came a loud commotion. Symon cocked his head and listened, chuckling. "They are shouting her name. I guess taking you on makes her their leader." He looked back, smug. "Oh yeah--her name is ‘Sarah’."

  If anything, his erection actually got harder. Sarah? What kind of a name was that? An Earth name, he answered himself. Groaning, he banged his head on the wall behind him. "It’s impossible. ‘Gaian Beast.’ ‘Monster.’ That’s what she called me, a monster. Even if I wanted to accept her--and I don’t--she would never accept me."

  Symon’s smile faded a little. "Well, we’ll have to see about that. At the moment you’re in no condition for accepting anything. Maybe you should go to your quarters before anyone else comes by."

  It was good advice. The men inside the room would surely know, but they were married and wouldn’t gossip. All he needed was one of the unattached ones to find out--it would be all over the ship before the next meal. Garran nodded, turned to leave. "I’ll watch from there."

  "You won’t be able to," Symon warned. "Bethan ordered all the imagers blocked. She felt the ladies would need some privacy."

  An unexpected emotion shot through him. It bubbled up through his chest, into his throat, and finally, a rusty, hoarse chuckle escaped his lips, followed by another, and another. Garran turned back to Symon, who stared at him in astonishment. "She soft-blocked the imagers?"

  Symon lost some of his cocky sureness. "Yes, what of it?"

  Garran tried to regain his composure, succeeding briefly. "We have on this ship five hundred of the best unattached male minds on Gaia." He nodded to the door. "Inside that room is their future. We’ve trained them to take over systems, alien systems, no less. Do you honestly believe they will let a little thing like a software block keep them from taking a peek at that future?" He lost it again, laughter bubbling out. "I’m sure if you check the crew quarters you’ll find those ladies on every view-screen available."

  Symon groaned. "I hadn’t thought of that. Should have made it a hardware override." Concern filled his features. "Bethan’s going to kill me."

&nb
sp; Garran managed to regain control, his amusement fading a little. Odd. When was the last time he’d laughed like that. Years? "Look on the bright side, maybe it’ll dampen their enthusiasm, seeing those ladies in their nightclothes. Might make it easier to keep them patient."

  "Oh, sure, like it did you." Symon cocked his head to one side. "Garran, do you realize you just attached to a woman wearing fuzzy slippers?"

  The image of the Earther who’d bewitched him returned. "Pink," he decided. "They were pink. Maybe that’s what those five hundred Gaian women lacked, pink fuzzy slippers." For a moment longer Garran stared at the door, one hand idly rubbing his sore cheek. Defiant shouts still came from inside and he could hear her name.

  Sarah. To see her again, even if only on a view-screen. "I’ll be in my quarters."

  * * * *

  Sarah’s light-headedness began to abate. She’d almost fainted, for the first time ever. Why? Because for once she’d lost control of her temper and actually hit someone? And not just anyone--General Garran, the Beast himself! Her hand still tingled. Had she hit him that hard, enough to injure her hand?

  Repercussions were likely. The Gaian’s hadn’t just won the war. They’d gone well beyond what was needed to win. Gaian forces had destroyed every ship that had come after them.

  In five years no Earth ships had come home, nor had any of their crewmembers been found. Perhaps Jenny was right, maybe they were all going to be killed. But then, why bring them on board? Why not simply blast the life-pods to pieces? It would have been much less messy.

  Sarah took a glance around at their elegant surroundings. A slaughter in here would ruin the upholstery.

  Besides, until the general had shown up, she’d been prepared to like these people. There was something about Symon that simply begged her to trust him. She glanced at the guards still lining the walls. They bore side-arms, stunners from the looks of them, but kept them holstered, even with the women rallying around her. The men didn’t look angry or even alarmed. If anything, the glances they exchanged seemed amused, as if they passed some kind of private joke around the room.

  Laura threw an arm around her shoulders and whispered into her ear. "Sarah, you need to talk to everyone. Get them to calm down." She glanced about, worried. "They’ll listen to you, I think."

  Surprise filled her. "Me? Why me?"

  "You hit the General. They all look up to you." She turned to the big woman who still hovered protectively. "Jenny, help me get Sarah on her feet."

  Before she could protest further, she was helped up to stand on one of the couches. All eyes turned to her as Jenny stabilized her on the soft, unstable surface, one arm around her waist. She’d never seen so many eyes at once. Instantly everyone quieted down.

  "Shh, Sarah is going to talk," one cried.

  "I … I." She lost her nerve. Expectantly, everyone waited, hope and admiration in their faces.

  Crud. Deep breath. Sarah took glance at Laura and her supportive smile. "All right, everyone. Let’s all calm down. They haven’t hurt us, at least not yet." She glanced over at the guards who looked more likely to break out with laughter than with their weapons.

  She took another deep breath. "I don’t think we’re in any danger. Let’s quiet down, wait for them to tell us what they want." The other women looked at each other, nodded, sat down, and began talking quietly to each other.

  Jenny helped her back to her seat and Laura settled next to her. "Good job. Now let’s see how long they make us wait." Laura glanced over. "Too bad you don’t have that deck of cards."

  The wait wasn’t long at all. Sarah’s chronometer only measured out ten minutes before the big doors opened again. Sarah tensed, waiting for the return of the General. If he came, and wanted revenge for hitting him, she’d make sure she was the only one to be affected. Surely he’d let everyone else off the hook.

  A petite woman with short, curly black hair entered, closing the door behind her. She was dressed in a simple scoop-necked blouse, white with bright trim around the neck, and an ankle-length skirt in deep blue that swirled around her legs as she moved through the room past the women in their nightclothes and robes. She stopped a few feet away from Sarah. For a moment she looked somber, then a smile slipped out and settled on her face. The woman glanced at Sarah, an intense look that caught her off-guard. Her black eyes seemed to twinkle.

  "Well, ladies, again, welcome to The Promise." There was an amused glance at the quiet moans of despair. "I’m Bethan Curlain, Chief Executive Officer of the ship. I imagine you have a lot of questions, and I intend to see that we answer them. But the first thing to do is make you more comfortable." She gestured, and the men on either side of the double doors opened them.

  From the hallway came a small army of women, carrying bundles or pushing carts. The carts went to one side, the bundles to the other. The newcomers were dressed as Bethan was, and wore the same happy smiles on their faces the guards had. Some of the carts held large silvery urns and Sarah was sitting close enough to catch a whiff as they went by.

  Her nose went of full alert at the smell. Coffee! Things were beginning to look up.

  Without thinking, she headed for the cart. Bethan met her there, filled a mug and handed it to her. "I guess you need this more than fresh clothing."

  The smell was intoxicating and Sarah’s mouth watered. It was hot so she sipped carefully. The rich brown liquid flowed across her tongue. Instantly, the early morning rousting, the life-pod, even the dreaded General Garran took on a lesser significance. She closed her eyes. "Wonderful. Best coffee I ever had."

  She heard the gentle chuckle and opened her eyes to see Bethan’s amused smile. "Well, it isn’t really coffee. It’s made from a root vegetable created specially to grow on Gaia. Rather like a carrot, but it has properties similar to those of the coffee bean. We call it ‘javi’."

  Coffee from carrots? "I don’t care what you call it, so long as I can have some more." She’d managed to finish her mug, just in the length of time Bethan had spoken.

  Laughing, Bethan obliged her with a refill.

  On the other side of the room, women from The Dove were being fitted with clothes similar to what the Gaian ladies wore. Sarah carried her cup over to one of the stations giving out garments, Jenny and Laura dancing attendance. To her surprise, Bethan followed.

  "Could I know your name?" the dark haired woman asked.

  "Dr. Sarah Johnson"

  "You’re a doctor?"

  "An obstetrician."

  Bethan’s face lit up. "How lovely, and so appropriate given the circumstances."

  Sarah’s uneasiness returned. "What circumstances?"

  The Gaian woman grinned mysteriously. "Why, the circumstances we’re in, of course. Here, why don’t you try these on?" From a bundle she handed Sarah a dark green skirt and a blouse in a paler shade of green. "I think these will suit you."

  The clothes the Gaians offered were pullover blouses with scooped necks made of soft light fabrics in bright colors. The skirts were of a heavier material, with fastenings that adjusted to the waist, all solid colors. There was also an assortment of fresh undergarments and simple slip-on shoes in a variety of sizes to complete the outfits.

  Some of the other Gaian women started handing out small plastic boxes, as well. These turned out to contain a new hairbrush, comb, and other toiletries, and there was one for each of the women from the ship.

  Along the outside walls of the ballroom were sanitary facilities, which the Earth women took turns using to clean up and get dressed. Eventually, all were sitting on the assembly room couches in their new clothes, eating breakfast cakes from the carts, sipping "javi", and chatting with the Gaians who’d provided all.

  It was getting too much like a party, a nice, friendly party. But it wasn’t a party they had been invited to and the questions forming in Sarah’s brain were starting to add up. She felt some answers were due.

  "Bethan" she started, trying to be diplomatic, "this is a lot of fun, and I’m sure we a
re all grateful that your ship rescued us, but when are we going back to ours?"

  Bethan’s face became watchful. "That could take some doing. The truth is we had The Dove unload you on purpose and we aren’t planning on returning you at all."

  This news didn’t go over well--all women within hearing distance turned to stare at her.

  One lady, tall with sharp features and dark hair, looked particularly angry. "You stopped our ship and forced them to put us into the lifepods--why?" Sarah thought she remembered her from one of the early meetings as having been a lawyer on Earth.

  Bethan sipped her javi. "We thought you might want to come with us instead."

  "How nice," Sarah said, unable to avoid the sarcasm in her voice. "And why would we want to do that? We were supposed to be on our way to one of the outer world colonies. We were on our way to find husbands."

  Bethan smiled. "Well, maybe we can make you a better offer? Hear us out, ladies, please."

  One of the other women looked anxious. "My things were on the other ship, everything I brought with me from my home. What about those?"

  "Oh, don’t worry," Bethan told her. "We collected all your belongings before The Dove left and they’re being transferred to your new quarters as we speak. A couple of hours from now you will be in one of our cabins and all your belongings will be there."

  Symon returned and sat down next to Bethan. "And how are you getting along?" He smiled at her lovingly.

  "Fine. I was just explaining how we dragged our guests off their ship."

  Sarah was getting tired of her "kidnappers" pleasantries. "And just who are you?"

  Bethan beamed at her. "Sarah, this is Symon Curlain, my husband and captain of The Promise."

  Symon was Captain, and Bethan CEO? And they were husband and wife. This was getting way too cozy.