by Smith, S. E.
“We believe so.”
“Did she say what happened to your…father?” City asked this carefully.
“He died. That is why she was allowed to keep Naric, my…little brother.”
City leaned a hip against the side of the table. “That’s…I’m sorry. Is all this freaking her out?”
He gave a confused head shake. “Freaking?”
City indicated their surroundings. “Is she finding it strange? Unsettling to be on this ship hurtling through space?”
“Yes, but she is free. Naric is free.”
There was that.
“I have promised her that she is safe.”
Was there a hint of question in there?
“She is as safe as we are,” City told him. “When we get back, well, we’ll figure out what she’d like to do, where she might like to live.”
“Are there worlds with people, safe worlds?”
City hesitated, not sure she knew the answer to that. She took another step toward him. “You know that nowhere is completely safe, but we’ll—I’ll do my best. She’ll be free.” Her lips twisted. “You know your crew will make sure of that. It was Bull who got them out.”
His lips widened in a smile. “They are most…empathetic…despite their lack of expression and emotion.”
City felt her own face relax into a smile. “I keep having this feeling there is more to them than meets the eye—then I think, holy crap because there is so much that meets the eye.”
He laughed and somehow managed to get two steps closer from the action. City had to meet his two steps. This wasn’t poker, or diplomacy, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Now the smallness of the room was working with them. She was close enough to see the lines fanning out from his eyes. There were gold and green specks in his eyes, too, though she’d need to get closer to be sure.
As her heart rate sped up a little, she wondered how old he was. Old enough she knew he was a man and not a boy. Old enough to know what he wanted?
“Caro, I do not know the words your people use for—” He thumped his heart with his fist. “There is a storm inside. It pushes me—”
Okay, that kicked up her heart some more. “Where does it push you?” It felt like all of her being leaned toward him, but she couldn’t move. Not yet.
“To you.” He took another step, a bigger one.
Now she was close enough to inhale the clean, male scent of him. If she stopped now they’d almost be chest to chest. She took half a step instead, not quite ready for chest to chest.
She licked her lips and saw fire flare in his eyes. “In my culture, we have something called the relationship talk. For the most part, women like it more than men.”
“Relationship, that is how you relate to each other?”
She nodded.
“Why would they not like this? I would appreciate clarity on this.”
Yeah, you’re an alien, she didn’t say.
“Sometimes men like to spend time with women, but not get serious.” Before he could ask, “Serious is exclusive and could lead to what we call marriage. That’s when you tell each other ‘I love you’ and decide to live together, have a family together. Commit to each other for always.”
He shocked her by stepping up, one hand on her waist, the other settling over her belly. Low down where her womb was. Her knees may have wobbled.
“A child. With you? This would be—” His gaze lifted and met hers. “That would be a happiness I never thought to have. To live with a woman such as yourself always. There is heat around my heart and so much fear.”
“Fear?” The word came out as a croak as his hands moved to her cheeks, then slid around to the back of her head, easing her gently against the length of his body.
“That I dream.” He smoothed strands of hair back, his brown eyes full of wonder.
For her.
“Is this love?”
She couldn’t nod because his strong brown hands held her gently but firmly. She licked her lips again. “Yes. I mean, I think so. Because I feel the same way.” She covered one of his hands with one of hers. The thumb of his free hand stroked across her lips.
“This marriage you speak of. How is this accomplished?”
She sighed. “We need someone with the legal authority to do the ceremony. General Halliwell could do it.” If he would. He’d had to do a lot of Expedition-Alien weddings though. He should be used to it.
His arms slid around her, his hands running up, then down her back. “And with this ceremony, we would belong together?”
All she could do was nod.
“You should kiss her already,” a voice broke in.
They glanced to the side and found they were being observed by Tiger, Rocky and Bull. Rita started playing a love song in the background.
City opened her mouth to object and shrugged instead. “It is tradition.”
“I like this tradition,” he growled, covering her mouth with his.
City’s toes curled in her military issue boots as she kissed him back.
Also by Pauline Baird Jones
Available in print, digital and audio.
Project Universe Series:
The Key (book 1)
Girl Gone Nova (book 2)
Tangled in Time (book 3)
Steamrolled (book 4)
Kicking Ashe (book 5)
Found Girl (book 6)
Lost Valyr (book 7)
Project Enterprise: The Short Stories
Time Trap: A Project Enterprise Series Short Story
The Real Dragon
Nebula Nine (time travel adventure)
About Pauline Baird Jones
Award-winning, USA Today Bestselling author Pauline never liked reality, so she writes books. She likes to wander among the genres, rampaging like Godzilla, because she does love peril mixed in her romance.
To find out more about Pauline or her books:
http://paulinebjones.com
Cats of War
Military Subcaptain Kedron Tauceti counts the days until he can leave the rare metals factory and his current duty station as the liaison to the Criminal Restitution and Indenture Obligation system. The post was protection—and punishment—for exposing a theft ring in his previous assignment. He's more than ready to get his career back on track on a new base halfway across the galaxy, even if it means leaving behind the one person who makes him want to stay. Not that he's told her, because technically, he's her warden.
Former financial specialist and current indenturee Ferra Barray, hiding from her past, only has three months to go on her restitution sentence. She's lucked into a tech repair job, and If she keeps her head down, she'll be free to figure out her future. Unfortunately, the local boss behind every illegal scheme in the facility wants her to steal for him, and she's running out of excuses. And now the heroically handsome Tauceti, who she hoped could help, is transferring out.
Everything changes when Ferra discovers two genetically modified cats. Saving them takes incredible risks. She doesn't know what she'll do if she can't convince Tauceti to take them with him and keep them until she's free to come for them.
When trouble erupts at the factory, it might just be the cats who save them. Find out what happens in this exciting stand-alone novella from Carol Van Natta's award-winning Central Galactic Concordance space opera series.
1
* Argint d’Apa Metals Processing Facility, Planet Olaza Okomvelo * GDAT 3242.201 *
High Command Ground Division Subcaptain Kedron Tauceti longed to open the window in his office just once before leaving.
Not that he wanted more insects in everything, but even fresh air that smelled like a swamp would alleviate his office’s stuffiness. The Central Galactic Concordance government section of the building that housed him, the CRIO staff, and the lone Citizen Protection Service representative was a later addition to the metals filtering and processing facility. The retrofit ducting did little to improve the inadequate ventilation and air handling
. He’d been through three fans in his two-year tour of duty, and the fourth died an hour ago.
At least he wouldn’t have to put up with this year’s sweltering summer heat. He’d be on his way to his new post in four ten-days, six single days, and twenty hours. He didn’t even pretend he hadn’t started a countdown clock.
Serving as second-in-command for the small military base on Merganukhan, a backwater planet if ever there was one, probably wasn’t most people’s idea of a plum assignment. Unless their previous stint was the military liaison to the CGC’s Criminal Restitution and Indenture Obligation system at a rare metals processing facility in the middle of a gigantic, insect-ridden, moss-laden swamp.
His current, soon-to-be-former, assignment was partly caution and partly punishment. He’d expected consequences from exposing a theft ring, because it tarnished the M’Tendere name, a military family as fabled as his own. From almost his first day as logistics chief on the huge, multi-divisional military base on Parlayan Six, Commodore Salah Chuma M’tenders had singled him out for much more than professional attention.
He hadn’t known her long enough to be interested in a personal relationship. When he’d figured out the real attraction had been his access to physical storage and quartermaster systems, he’d gathered evidence and given it to High Command. Unfortunately, the fallout made the entire command chain look incompetent and lazy. That was only partly true, because the theft ring had been as clever as they were bold. Only complacency and rising greed got them caught. Most of them, anyway.
He wondered if the military investigators ever found the rumored treasure ship that M’Tendere reportedly hid before her high-profile court-martial in Concordance Prime. By that time, High Command had appointed him to the CRIO post on Olaza Okomvelo “for his safety,” instead of subcaptain of a mech division, for which he’d trained and groomed himself. His stint at Argint d’Apa had put him out of sight—and conveniently unavailable to journalists—for the last two years. He hoped the reassignment notice meant High Command had finally forgiven him for his good deed. It would take a decade to get his career back on track.
The clock display of his wallcomp declared the time to be midday, but the farking thing was only right for about an hour after a manual reset. The military-issue percomp on his wrist said it was actually close to the start of evening meal service, and his stomach agreed. Once the technology repair specialist came by, he’d be free to go eat, meet with the security chief, and take his evening walk before hitting the military gym.
He’d considered canceling the tech appointment, since he’d be gone soon, but he’d kept it on principle. He’d been submitting unanswered trouble reports for two years. The overworked and chronically understaffed facility’s tech repair lab was finally getting around to checking out all his perennially malfunctioning office systems. At least he could leave everything in working order for his successor.
Kedron knew he shouldn’t complain. The local CRIO installation was well run and passed audits with all green flags, but he’d heard horror stories from the CRIO staff about notorious hellhole installations and rumors of secret installations that were even worse. It would have been just his luck to be assigned to one of those.
At Argint d’Apa, military veterans were few and far between, so the liaison job left him with a great deal of free time. The murky local chain of command meant few orders and little oversight from above. He submitted status reports and assessments for military indenturees, studied and took online training courses in things that interested him and might further his career, and kept himself in shape by visiting the gym a lot. He had yet to convince himself he’d been doing important work for High Command or the CGC.
The biggest issue he’d seen was the facility’s perennial and currently resurgent problem with recreational chems trading, because they were forbidden for all indenturees, but not for staff. When he’d asked about the policy, the facility manager had firmly and repeatedly told him to mind his own jurisdiction.
The other reason he didn’t cancel the repair appointment was the technician who’d made the appointment, Indenturee Ferra Barray. In a facility full of restive, resentful, or resigned people—including him, sometimes—her cheery demeanor and lively sense of humor were a breath of fresh air.
He would’ve had no occasion to interact with her at all, except her records mistakenly identified her as ex-military, so he’d conducted her intake orientation four months ago. To help out the overworked regular CRIO staff, he hadn’t changed her assignment. He’d had regular check-ins and several more random interactions with her since, including being stuck for a day in a shelter lockdown for a hurricane event. She’d made friends with everyone and kept the nervous indenturees occupied by teaching them an elaborate, convoluted logic game that Kedron was half-convinced she’d invented on the spot.
He secretly wanted to get to know her better, and maybe become friends. That, however, was a no-go, full-warn, all-red stop. He refused to go within a thousand kilometers of striking up a personal relationship with an indenturee. Thanks to his last post, he knew exactly what coercion felt like. He would rather let himself be savaged by the big hellhound escapee-retriever dogs that the plant security guards kept than do that to someone else. Bored guards sometimes caught unlucky wild animals and threw them to the dogs for “training,” which also happened to involve betting. Kedron hated that he couldn’t stop them. The only thing he or the CRIO staff could do was make sure it stayed on the civilian side of the compound.
Right on time, Barray knocked on the sliding door frame, then entered. She carried a bag slung over her shoulder. “Greetings, Subcaptain.”
“Indenturee Barray.” He nodded. “Thank you for coming.”
She looked around and smiled when she saw the clock display. “Wallcomp troubles?”
He stood. “Everything troubles. The only reliable tech in here is my percomp.” He raised his arm to show the military gauntlet. “The wallcomp, the deskcomp, the light and enviro controls, the door lock, you name it, they’re all glitchy.” He pointed his chin toward the dead fan. “Even that sparked out an hour ago.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you’re just reporting all this now?”
“What do you mean, now?” He took a deep breath to control his temper. “I have been submitting trouble reports for the last two years.”
She shook her head. “The records show two complaints from two years ago, a replacement fan a year ago, then nothing until today.” She unfolded a battered tablet and brought up a holo display that showed four entries.
“Nonsense.” He reached for his deskcomp, hesitated, then used his own percomp instead. He found the twenty-seven complaints and displayed them. “These are what I submitted.” He was glad he’d thought to keep copies.
“That’s, uh, quite a list.” She held out her plant-issued tablet. “Can you send those to me? I’ll check once I get back to the repair lab.”
He found the tablet’s signal and transferred the list. “Done.”
She put the tablet in her thigh pocket and looked around again. “Let’s try for a quick win and fix the door lock first. That’s security and safety, so it has priority.” She took a tech scanner and a multitool out of her bag and turned to the door.
Kedron made himself sit and bring up the deskcomp display, so she wouldn’t feel scrutinized. He couldn’t help but hear her running commentary as she removed the panel.
“Oh, no, I won’t hurt you. Just a little probe.” She pulled a datawire out of her bag and inserted it into the exposed connector. “There’s a good module. Tell me all your troubles.”
“Do you always talk to tech?” he asked.
“I talk to everything.” She chuckled. “Blame my childhood on a space station. We couldn’t afford pets.” She turned to him. “I’ll keep it in my head.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You have a tech skulljack?” He resisted the impulse to touch his, hidden behind his ear. Soon, it would again enable him to interface with th
e AI of an assault tank or a two-story-tall military spider mech.
She smiled. “No, I meant I’ll be quiet.” She shook her head. “Even if I did have one, CRIO would have flatlined it. Thank chaos I flunked the minder tests, or the Citizen Protection Service would have put me on disruptor drugs, too.” Her mouth twisted in a frown. “I guess CRIO and the CPS think we’re all threats to the galactic peace, or something.”
He agreed with her disgust, but it wasn’t politic to say so. He shrugged a shoulder. “You don’t have to be quiet for my sake.” He pointed to his display filled with flat photos and holos. “I’m just familiarizing myself with the native flora and fauna near my new post.”
“Oh? Where is it?” She frowned. “Or is that crypto?”
“It’s not secret at all. I’ll be second-in-command of the combined military base on Merganukhan.”
She chuckled. “Gotta be Fourth Wave. All the good planet names were taken by then.”
He smiled. “Third Wave, but the name is made up. When the colonists finally paid off the settlement company debt, the CGC wouldn’t let them rename the planet to ‘Suck Flux, RSI.’”
She laughed. “Too bad. I’d go out of my way to visit a planet with that name.” She waved fingers in a sketch of a military salute. “Congratulations on the new post, Subcaptain, and good luck.” She turned back to the door lock.
He knew others found him to be too focused and intense, which is why he had few friends. Being shy didn’t help. He’d tried to change that in his liaison position but hadn’t gotten very far. He lived on the compound and disliked most of the guards. He had little in common with the CRIO staff or the regular company employees. He preferred to avoid the CPS representative, and was an ocean away from the planet’s only military base.