Garland cursed. “You should have come straight back to the ship. There are a lot of people who want you dead, Fleet notwithstanding.”
“Glad to know you care, Garland.”
“You know I don’t. We just need you here to sign for the new batch of food logs when they come in.”
Viktor snorted. “I’ll trust you to keep the repairs going as swiftly as possible.”
“And if it’s not possible to finish before all those Fleet ships arrive?”
“We may have to make it possible,” Viktor said grimly.
“Understood.”
Viktor cut the line, but he made another call before taking a breath.
“Borage here,” his engineer replied.
“Azarov with you?” Viktor asked.
“Yes, sir. We’re admiring the hull of the Albatross through the window. A couple of well-armed androids are admiring us from outside of our airlock.”
“I heard. We’ll have to sleep here tonight. I want the repairs further along on the ship before we think of taking any drastic actions.”
“Agreed, sir. Your leased shuttle is in one of the station’s bays, isn’t it? As much as I loathe asking this, due to its excessively pink nature—not to mention the furry seat covers—shall we bunk there until the quarantine blows over?”
“Furry seat covers?” Viktor raised his eyebrows.
“A recent addition,” Ankari whispered. “They’re red with black spots. Jamie and I are preparing for when you give in and officially name the craft Ladybug. On paper.”
“They’re dreadful, sir,” Borage said at the same time, not hearing Ankari. “By mistake, the box they came in was delivered to my engine room. You’re not known for your sense of humor, sir, so I was fairly certain you weren’t playing a joke on me. But I thought they might be a punishment. I was relieved when I found the purchase order and saw they should have gone to the shuttle bay instead. Somewhat relieved, that is.”
Ankari smiled brightly.
Viktor usually managed to appear tough and soldierly, no matter what was going on around him, and this was no different, but she was sure his green Grenavinian eyes held a hint of horror in their depths.
“The shuttle is the logical place to bunk,” Viktor said, “and, while we’re there, we can discuss the flexibility of Microbacteriotherapy, Inc.’s lease of Delta Shuttle.” His eyes narrowed at Ankari as he said the name.
“Wait,” she whispered, pointing to his comm-patch. “If you have them get a hotel room, we can get a hotel room without any of your men thinking you’re receiving privileges they aren’t.” Ankari felt silly thinking of herself as a privilege, but in the time she had spent on board, she had learned how much those men came to crave companionship during the long months in space. Few of them were married, and even those who were rarely got to return home to see their wives. Most of the others had to make do with prostitutes during their short bouts of shore leave, and even if nobody would speak of it to Viktor’s face, she had heard grumblings in the corridors about how he got to have a woman when nobody else did.
Viktor hesitated, his sense of honor perhaps objecting to the idea of claiming more time with her than he already had when his men had no such indulgences to turn to. She understood, but she wanted a night with him, damn it, not simply a hasty shuttle docking in an elevator. She wanted to hear about this last mission of his, and in case something did happen on the station, and this quarantine resulted in an epidemic that threatened them all, she wanted more time with him.
“If you don’t join me in that hotel room,” Ankari whispered, “I’ll make you sleep on the seat with the biggest and fluffiest fuzzy ladybug spots.”
He snorted, but he did contact Borage again. “Change of plan. You and Azarov can get hotel rooms on the station. Big, luxury ones. Relax. Invite some women over if you want.” A mischievous gleam entered Viktor’s eyes, and he gazed directly into Ankari’s as he continued. “Microbacteriotherapy, Inc., because they don’t want their clinic disturbed by our sooty bodies, has graciously agreed to pay for rooms for all of us during the duration of the quarantine.”
Ankari felt her mouth drop open.
“They have?” Borage sounded pleasantly surprised—or maybe shocked would be the accurate term. “Well, how about that? I accept, and I expect Azarov will, too, once he finishes glaring at that android. Luxury, huh.”
Ankari closed her mouth. Even if she could not justify taking money out of the company pocketbook, and would have to pay for the mercenaries’ luxury accommodations on her own, it would not be the worst thing in the galaxy, especially if it improved Borage’s opinion of her business. And gave her the night with Viktor.
“Keep your comm-patches with you,” Viktor said. “I may need you on short notice if anything comes up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How is it,” Ankari asked, when Viktor ended the call, “that I’m the shrewd businesswoman and you’re the thugly soldier, yet I always come out on the bottom in my negotiations with you?”
“Negotiations? Weren’t you trying to manipulate me?”
“Well, yes, but for our mutual pleasure. I thought you would approve.”
“Of furry seat covers and a shuttle named Ladybug? I think not.” Viktor lowered his hand to her backside, squeezed her on the ass, and nodded to the corridor that led to the hotel area. “Shall we find those shower heads now? Perhaps a cleaning will make me less thugly.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible.” Ankari looped her arm around him, doing a little ass-squeezing of her own. “You’re lucky I like thugly soldiers. Even ones who take woeful advantage of me.”
“I am lucky,” he agreed, gazing down at her as they walked.
The admission should have warmed her heart, but an odd wistfulness accompanied it, as if he had darker thoughts on his mind. Well, maybe he would share them tonight. She wanted to be a confidante for him as much as an accomplice and ally. She was not sure when he had come to matter so much to her, but she could not imagine not having him in her life now.
4
Having explored what activities might be undertaken in a shower with dual heads and also in a bed almost as large as his combat shuttles, Viktor dozed on his side, one arm wrapped around Ankari’s waist, the other providing a pillow for her. The soft glow of a clock told him morning approached, but for once, there was no rush to get to work, so he lay quietly, enjoying the soft, warm skin pressed against his body. His dreams had been dark since leaving Nimbus, and he was relieved that he had made it through the night without reliving the ugly, bloody retreat—or the battle against fire that they had barely survived on the way to the station. He must have been too worn out by physical exertions to dream. He smiled against Ankari’s shoulder, kissing her softly, though she had not yet stirred.
Eventually, he would have to say what was on his mind, that the ship was not a safe place for her lab and that it would be selfish of him to keep her there. But not yet. Let them have a few days—a few nights—of peace first. Insomuch as they could while the station was on quarantine and doctors worked feverishly to figure out if a new disease had been brought on board.
A soft beep came from the pile of clothing on the floor beside the bed. His comm-patch? No, it sounded like the higher-pitched summons of Ankari’s unit, or maybe an alarm she had set.
Either way, it roused her from sleep. Sort of. Eyes still closed, she patted at the empty night table.
“A little lower,” Viktor murmured.
“Hm?” Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her face toward him, smiling blearily.
“It’s coming from the floor.”
“Oh. Right.” She rolled toward the edge of the bed, giving him a nice view of her bare butt as she dug out her comm. She flopped back, a tumble of soft hair falling across Viktor’s bare shoulder. “I dreamed that we were back in the shower and you were giving me instructions again.”
A surge of heat rushed to his groin at the memory of that moment, of the talented
way she had put her lips and her tongue to use. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had not gotten around to returning that particular favor, especially after pounding into her with far too much animalistic urgency in the elevator. After the month he’d had, he had needed a release and been thinking too much about sating himself and not enough about pleasing her. He vowed to make up for that later.
“They were less instructions and more pleas, as I recall,” Viktor murmured. “I use my command voice when I instruct.”
“Oh, how would one know the difference? Is there more grunting? More growling?”
“The same amount.” He kissed her shoulder again. “But I’d probably call you soldier and tell you to call me sir.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen.” She grinned at him.
Chuckling, he slid his hand down to her bare waist. Maybe he would show her some of that pleasing this morning. But she was frowning thoughtfully at her comm unit, so perhaps she had some business on the mind.
“I need to make a call,” Ankari said. “It’s evening back home, so I thought this would be the best time. We’re close enough in that a live call shouldn’t be very laggy, right?” Her brow crinkled as she pondered the problem, then she nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I haven’t been this close to civilization in months. Too bad the station is under threat of a deadly virus.”
“Hm,” Viktor said noncommittally. He refused to worry about that until more evidence had been announced. Ankari seemed quite concerned, though, perhaps because she had been so close to one of the people who died.
“Mind if I leave you to comm home?” she asked, then gave him a quirky smile and added, “Sir? I promise to return and let you instruct me further.”
“I thought I’d let you instruct me this morning.”
“Oh? That wouldn’t bother you?”
“Why would it bother me?”
“Well, you have your past with those... counselors.” Ankari lifted a shoulder uncertainly. “You don’t talk about it, but I wasn’t sure if being bossed around in bed by a woman might be... awkward.”
“That was a long time ago. And you’re nothing like a Fleet counselor. They’re not mischievous and saucy. And they don’t pick pockets.”
Ankari’s uncertainty faded, and she grinned at him. “They sound repressed.”
“Yes.”
He let himself run his hand along her hip and down the side of her thigh for one more admiring roam before pulling back so she could get up. He loved that those thighs could launch people across an intersection, but that they—and every part of her—remained feminine. Beautiful. Alluring. He continued to add adjectives as she turned up the lights and dressed, giving him ample looks at her form as she did so.
When she wandered into the main room of their suite to use the station’s comm system, Viktor dug out his tablet to check the news. He thought about calling the company for an update, but it was still the night shift over there, so Sequoia would not be up, snooping around and getting the real news. Such as he could. Lieutenant Thomlin would have had some of his intel-gathering programs running through the night. While the ship was undergoing repairs, Viktor would have to spend some time searching for a new intelligence officer, preferably one who had been through all of the Fleet training courses and then grown disillusioned with the system or perhaps been kicked out. Alas, mercenaries rarely got to pick from the best and brightest. He could not be bitter though. He had better men than most.
“Hi, Mom,” Ankari said brightly, before lowering her voice to a more private level, one which, through accident or design, Viktor could not eavesdrop on. At least not from his spot in the bed.
He should give Ankari her privacy, but curiosity made him lower his tablet and try to hear her words. She spoke often of her family, and, when last he had heard, had been in the middle of a weeks-long chess game with a brother, but she had not called them live, at least not in his presence. What prompted her to do so now? The quarantine? Maybe she was even more worried than Viktor had guessed.
He rolled out of bed, grimacing as pain lit up his body like a target on a firing range. That young pup in the gym had left him with more bruises and sore muscles than he’d had in a long time. Maybe it was good that Ankari was in the other room. As he picked up his clothes, he managed to keep his groans and grunts of distress internal, though he could not help but think of Borage’s teasing from the day before. What, indeed, would he do when he grew too old to best all of the young contenders who challenged him?
A problem for another day.
Viktor padded over to a chair and mirror to dress. They happened to be by the door, which happened to let him hear the conversation. He reasoned that if Ankari truly wanted privacy, she would have shut the door.
He snorted at himself, acknowledging that he sounded like Thomlin, who had always claimed that a career in intelligence had inculcated his snooping tendencies. He did not, however, snort so loudly that Ankari might hear. Instead, he dressed very quietly. And slowly.
“...sending some money, all right?” Ankari was saying. “Enough for you to get a place in a good neighborhood. You could even move off Novus Earth for one of the quieter and less restless planets.”
“We appreciate the gesture, ’Kari, especially since I haven’t been the biggest supporter of some of your entrepreneurial enterprises, but I don’t understand why you can’t come home for a visit. Or even to settle, now that you’ve got your business operational. Maybe the whole family could get a place together. Perhaps something with multiple stories so we’re not stepping all over each other.” Ankari’s mother sounded wistful.
Viktor was tempted to peek around the corner, so he might glimpse the woman. Ankari had shared pictures of her family, but nothing more. She actually seemed to enjoy talking about them, but more than once, he had sensed that she refrained from doing so, knowing he had no family of his own to talk about anymore. At least not close family. He had a nephew finishing college on one of the inner-core planets, but his parents, his grandparents, his brother, and uncles and aunts... Everyone had been on Grenavine when the planet had been destroyed. A decade had taken the edge off the pain, but he did feel the loneliness at times, especially since, as captain of his company, he felt he had to distance himself from most of the crew. Only with those who were also Grenavinian survivors and who had been there the longest did he sometimes let his guard down. But even then, he remained the commander and they the subordinates. Only Ankari was outside of his chain of command, someone he couldn’t have ordered around if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to. He sighed. Letting her leave would be hard, but if it was what her family wanted, maybe she would choose to go on her own one day.
Now, why did he find that thought so depressing?
He swallowed and put on his shirt, reminding himself that he was dressing and spying, not wallowing in the bowels of his mind. He had missed Ankari’s response, but her mother was talking again, and he leaned his ear toward the door.
“I worry about you out there,” the woman said. “I don’t understand why you’ve set up that lab on a spaceship. A mercenary spaceship at that.” Her tone grew dry. “Yes, your brother did some research. I don’t appreciate that you implied that you were still sailing around out there of your own volition.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I thought you would worry if you knew.”
Viktor frowned as he lifted his foot to the chair to fasten his boot. He had assumed Ankari had filled her family in on the details, though he supposed he could see why she might have hesitated. It didn’t surprise him that her mother worried for her safety with her on his ship—hadn’t he been contemplating the same issue?
“I am worried. We just saw the news. That ship was involved in the Nimbus debacle.”
“We weren’t there for that, Mom. We’ve been on Midway 5 for the last couple of weeks.”
“Midway 5?” her mother asked sharply. “The station that’s in quarantine now?”
Viktor grimaced. It shouldn’t surprise him that the news
had made it to the inner core. Everything made the rounds more quickly on this side of the system.
“Yes, but we’re staying out of trouble. I’m sure it will end up being nothing. But in case, uhm. In case it does turn into something, that’s why I want to make sure you and the others will be all right. I’ve put together a will and—”
“Ankari.”
A long moment passed with neither woman speaking. Even from the other room, even without seeing their faces, Viktor sensed the tension between them.
“Yes?” Ankari asked warily.
“I commend your thoughtfulness, but we—I am not ready to lose you. You’re twenty-seven years old. That’s not—” Her words grew tight around the lump that must be sticking in her throat. “Whatever possessed you to run around out there in the first place, ’Kari? A couple of times, you’ve mentioned or I’ve read between the lines—you haven’t been giving me nearly enough details, dear—that there’s a man. I can only assume someone on this mercenary ship. Why else would you agree to have a medical clinic in such a place?”
“I made a deal with the captain that we would do our work aboard, because the mercenaries helped us deal with a problem in exchange for a percentage of the company, and they’re still acting as security for us.”
Viktor hung his head. As part of their agreement, he had stipulated that Ankari’s team set up their lab on his ship. At the time, he’d had altruistic motivations—he had worried that if that Felgard wanted to kidnap them for their work, then others might attempt blackmail or worse. But they could afford their own security now, if they needed it. Security on a safe, inner-core planet. He should have already rescinded that part of their bargain.
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