Bridget stared back at her for a long moment. Her body ached and pleaded for release and she trembled with the effort it took not to reach out to this woman. But somewhere in those amber eyes lurked a shadow of Elshabet. “Are you afraid of me, Captain?’ Isandre breathed, smiling sweetly, her face still far too close. “You won the war for your people and I gave my allegiance to your Confederation so what do you have to fear?”
A strangled noise burst from Bridget’s throat. Only someone listening for it would have heard it as a name. Isandre’s smile grew less sweet. “Ah, Commander Elshabet. She was an excellent military commander, but weak and foolish in the matters of the heart. I believe you know this already, Captain. Now she is long gone and I am here and I want to discover for myself why she threw her war away for you. I can only imagine that you are very, very special.” She rested one hand on the armrest, pressing down on Bridget’s hand. With the other, she stroked Bridget’s cheek, sending shuddering waves through her entire body.
“And then what? You destroy me and my ship in revenge for Elshabet and the war the Lyrizi lost?” Her voice trembled a little but her body felt frozen, just like it had in her dream.
“So many fears and so little trust, Captain. It makes me a little sad. Is that what you would do in my place, Captain?” The deft green fingers found the buttons on Bridget’s uniform and began undoing them one by one. “Does it occur to you that I thought the Lyrizi were wrong and that I want only to see an end to the war? That I seek an alliance between our people? No, I can see that it doesn’t. Am I so like Elshabet, Captain? Or is it that you are too like her yourself?”
Bridget flinched and Isandre kissed her again, harder this time, evergreen lips engulfing her own. Her lips parted despite herself, letting Isandre’s tongue slip between them and into her mouth. Her jacket was open and Isandre was unbuttoning the shirt beneath it now but Bridget stayed frozen until those cool green fingers found her breast. Then with a desperate effort, she shoved Isandre away, gasping for breath.
The two stared at each other, amber eyes looking into blue. Then Isandre knelt between her legs, dropping her mouth onto Bridget’s nipple where it poked through the thin fabric of her shirt. Bridget groaned, a sound torn from her aching depths and reached for Isandre, past all that sense and experience could warn her against.
She stood, pulling Isandre to her with a hard kiss that made the latter gasp. She molded the other woman to her as she pushed her tongue between Isandre’s lips, taking possession of her mouth. Isandre’s hands were in her hair, then on her hips. She shoved her thigh between the Hight’s legs, pushing her back so she leaned against the wall. Then she began trailing kisses down Isandre’s jaw, licking her way down her neck.
She smiled to hear the hissed intake of the Hight’s breath and paused with her lips against her neck to feel the rapid tattoo of her pulse. The skin beneath her lips flushed darker green and she bit it sharply, making the other woman arch her back to pull away a little. Then Isandre moaned as she ran her tongue slowly back up to her delectable mouth with its dark green lips.
“At this rate, Captain, I’ll tell you almost anything you want to know,” Isandre murmured when they paused for breath. Her hands were under Bridget’s shirt now, caressing and kneading her skin. Bridget tugged her jacket off and tossed it aside, then knelt before the other woman. She kissed Isandre’s thighs through the silk of the skirt as she began to slowly run her hands under the skirt and up her legs.
Isandre whimpered as the Captain’s lips gently touched her sex through the fabric. Bridget could smell her desire, sweet and musky, as it filtered through the silk. She had the skirt raised to her upper thighs now, displaying Isandre’s green skin and the triangle of green fur that glistened invitingly in the cabin’s light. “Please Captain… Bridget, can we move to the bed?” Isandre’s voice was husky, pleading.
“No.” Bridget buried her mouth between Isandre’s legs, as if the end to guilt lay at the tip of her tongue. Isandre’s taste was both sharper and sweeter than Elshabet’s and she breathed deep, pulling in Isandre’s scent until it filled her lungs. Lines of moisture ran down Isandre’s thighs now as Bridget tasted her, licking firmly against her hardened clit until Isandre gave a tiny wail of pure need.
Bracing one hand against Isandre’s hip to steady her, Bridget slipped the other between her legs, driving her fingers up inside the inviting wetness. Isandre’s moans were coming faster and Bridget pushed harder, her tongue moving in compact circles over Isandre’s clit until she could feel her thighs shake. Isandre came with a cry, arching her back against the wall, thighs trembling so much that Bridget had to catch her before she fell. Then she leaned, gasping against the wall, her fingers buried in Bridget’s short hair.
“Now, Hight, I believe there was something you wanted to tell me?” Bridget managed not to grin around the words as she stood up, but only just.
Isandre twined herself around her neck, pressing close. “I’m only a diplomat, Captain,” Isandre murmured breathlessly against her throat. “You have such a suspicious mind.”
Rodríguez’s voice on the comm cut short whatever else Isandre was going to say. “Eight bells, Captain.” Bridget silently cursed her second in command. Isandre pulled away but not before Bridget seized her for a final fierce kiss.
“Captain?” Rodríguez asked from the comm.
Bridget growled but turned away to answer. “On deck shortly, Lieutenant. Thank you.” There was a hiss of the door behind her and when she turned, Isandre was gone. She was surprised to find that she was a little relieved despite the ache between her legs. But there wasn’t time to analyze the feeling, not now, so she cleaned up in the washbasin and adjusted her uniform before heading to her post.
Still, it took nearly all her self-control not to dwell on Isandre; on the soft texture of green skin beneath her fingers, on the taste of her in her mouth. Instead, she gave orders she had no memory of moments after she’d issued them. Isandre was nowhere to be seen, not even at meals. Her assistant told Bridget that she chose to eat in her quarters while she studied the vids on Arment. Bridget nodded in acknowledgement and did not seek her out. The day dragged though, and when she returned to her quarters to sleep, it did not come.
Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and got up to roam the corridors quietly. Try though she might to prevent it, her feet took her closer and closer to the guest quarters. Eventually she found herself in front of the door to Isandre’s quarters and stopped to rest her head on the familiar cool metal.
Selerinite. It was so very precious that to lose it meant the end of all that Bridget knew. Her brain spun with questions, doubts, fears. What if Isandre really was an agent for the Lyrizi? What if she was going to Arment to avenge their losses? If so, then Bridget was following in Elshabet’s footsteps. She remembered how she had gone to the Lyrizi with a similar story and offered her services as a double agent. Her military background led them to place her on Elshabet’s ship and her own desires led her to the Captain’s bed. Was this now so very different?
The door slid open under her hand and Isandre stared at her with an unreadable amber gaze. “Were you planning to come in, Captain? Or is staring at the door all night more appealing?”
“It has a certain charm.” Bridget gave her a grimace, not quite a smile, and stepped inside. She glanced at the active comm and wondered for a moment what Isandre had been looking at, what secret message she might even now be transmitting. A moment later, the thought was forgotten.
The door slid shut behind her as Isandre twined her arms around her neck, pressing close to kiss her. Isandre’s lips parted beneath hers, pulling her into the warmth of her mouth, linking their tongues. Bridget’s hands found their way down and over the graceful curves of Isandre’s body as Isandre’s fingers unfastened her jacket with frantic haste. Bridget could feel Isandre’s heart beat race through her, feel her own thighs run slick and wet beneath her uniform.
Isandre turned her, herding her back toward the
bed until she toppled over backwards with the ambassador on top of her. Her jacket was ruthlessly tugged off, the shirt following until her bare breasts met the slightly chilled air of Isandre’s quarters. She had Isandre’s dress unfastened now and was sucking her bare nipples hard, pulling their sweet tightness into her mouth until the sensation brought a moan from deep inside the Lyrizi.
Isandre ran a cool green finger over Bridget’s scar, sending chills over the sensitive skin. “Elshabet?” Bridget nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “Interesting.” The word hung in the air between them and Bridget scowled, trying to imagine what she meant by it.
Isandre reached for something on the table by the bed and Bridget felt a cold touch at her neck. “Do you trust me?” Isandre whispered.
She pressed her body the length of Bridget’s until it was hard to think, harder still to whisper back, “No.” The finality of the word shook her. What if Isandre threw her out now, half-naked and desperate with longing, aching so much that she might never be filled?
Isandre sat up, straddling Bridget’s hips. Her dress was open to the waist, pale green breasts spilling out. More than anything in the world Bridget wanted to sit up to take them in her mouth before moving lower on Isandre’s body, making it her own. Instead, she reached up to feel what Isandre held against her neck: a hypo, its cold needle hovering just above her skin. She thought about flinging the ambassador off her, wrestling her to the floor to remove the danger. There was still time: she’d been that fast before, she could be again.
But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to move. There was hurt in Isandre’s amber eyes but it was gone so quickly Bridget thought she imagined it. She kept talking as if Bridget hadn’t said anything, her tone suggesting nothing more than polite conversation. “The hypo contains a drug that we Lyrizi use to increase our pleasure, Captain. Is it something that Commander Elshabet shared with you? No? It will do you no harm and it is the supreme surrender, the full opening of one lover to another. Think of it, Captain: you can learn to trust a former enemy, perhaps even fall in love once all your barriers to it are removed.” Her fingers gently caressed Bridget’s cheek.
“Or I can give you the opportunity to rain skyfire down on my ship. I assume you have a ship following this one? No? You astonish me, Ambassador.” Bridget’s hand closed over Isandre’s, moving the needle away from her neck. Her fingers were like a vise and she could see Isandre winch. With a single quick motion, Bridget shook the needle from those green fingers, causing it to fall to the floor with a crash. “Do you doubt my desire for you, Hight? Somehow you struck me as more secure in your powers than that.”
Isandre caught her breath with a hissed gasp as Bridget reached under her skirt to drive her fingers into the warm wetness between her thighs. Bridget sat up, loosening her grip on Isandre’s hand and sinking her teeth into the nearest pebble-hard green nipple. Releasing it when Isandre groaned, she tongued it against her teeth as Isandre’s back arched. Elshabet never would have given up so easily. She grimaced at the tiny regret that came with the thought.
Isandre pulled away to tug off Bridget’s pants and the long, silky dress she still wore. Bridget watched her, eyes narrowed, waiting for her to reach for the hypo, for some unknown weapon. Instead, Isandre crawled up between her legs, still holding her gaze captive. The green mouth dropped between Bridget’s thighs, tongue caressing her clit with rough enthusiasm. Isandre slipped a finger inside her, then two before Bridget lost count riding her hand. She bucked, her back arching against the bed, legs locking before they exploded into motion, shaking and shivering as Isandre brought her to climax.
The ambassador switched positions as her tongue continued to caress Bridget’s trembling thighs. Now she lay on top of her, pressing her sex to Bridget’s lips as she continued her own explorations. Bridget tried to keep track of where her hands were, even as she buried her face in Isandre. There: one on her thigh, the other moving inside her slowly, stroking the wet walls, feeling their way deeper inside.
Bridget moaned, swiping her tongue the length of Isandre’s crack before sinking into that warm green wetness, wondering with every movement if she would cost the Confederation Arment. Part of her brain thought about betrayal, about skyfire and selerinite while she sucked on Isandre’s clit, drove her fingers in and out of each available opening until Isandre came, thrusting back hard against her. Her juices dripped down Bridget’s chin and into her mouth, sweet and sour all at once as she coaxed another orgasm from Bridget’s tense body.
Then, all at once, they were in each other’s arms, kissing and caressing as if they were truly lovers. A pang shot through Bridget with the realization that Isandre might be right. She might be the one who could have driven Elshabet’s face from her nightmares. But just as suddenly as it began, it was over and Isandre pulled away to roll off the bed. Bridget rolled over the other side, avoiding the hypo and kicking it under the bed. They faced each other warily across the rumpled, sweat-stained bed.
Isandre bowed, hands cupped at her eyes in the Lyrizi manner, like a combatant at a duel. “Thank you for helping me to understand a bit of what my cousin Elshabet experienced.”
Bridget went cold. Cousin? What was in that hypo? She reached warily for her clothes as though expecting Isandre to burst into threatening action. “I did not realize that the Commander was a member of your family, Ambassador. I am truly sorry to have brought grief upon your house.” She spoke formally in Lyrizi now, wondering what she would see when those amber eyes looked up to meet hers.
Isandre straightened. “Your accent and your body are both quite lovely, Captain. I have enjoyed the time I have spent with the most cunning warrior of your people.” She smiled a cold, tight smile and reached down to retrieve the hypo as Bridget pulled her pants back on. Her fingers caressed it as she looked up to read the question in the Captain’s eyes. “You’ll never know now, will you? May that uncertainty haunt your dreams along with my cousin’s face.”
Bridget tugged on the last of her clothes before spitting out a reply. “So is that what this was about? Torturing me? Revenge for your cousin?”
“It was about me understanding a warrior who could destroy what she cared about, Captain. So that I may be a better ambassador. Not an assassin or a spy, despite what you think.” Isandre dropped the hypo into a case and closed it with fingers that faded from green to tan as she spoke. “Elshabet never could have betrayed you the same way. I can see that truth in your eyes. One last question: did you truly love her, Captain?”
Bridget closed her eyes for a long moment, trying to shut out the sight of Isandre’s face, the scent of her body. Trying to remember what she felt before the blaster, before the skyfire explosion. “Yes,” she said finally and turned away to open the door.
“Good,” she heard Isandre murmur behind her. “I loved her, too, Captain.” The door swished shut behind her as Bridget walked slowly back to her quarters thinking about trust and diplomacy and love and wondering if she’d ever get another chance.
*
CL: I can’t really point to any one specific thing that inspired “Diplomacy.” At a guess, its roots lie in my reading of copious amounts of science fiction and fantasy and a newfound enthusiasm for the series Firefly. Ever notice how those battered but unbowed war veterans and starship captains are almost always male? Heterosexual goes without saying. It’s as if all our current patterns, good and bad, of relating to the people and the world around us, have to be carried forward into the future in perpetuity. For me, the joy of writing sf is the opportunity to envision something new or at least different. To twist things just a bit so that more seems possible. The part where I get to do it with sex just makes it more fun.
Silver Skin
By Elspeth Potter
Camera
You’re stripping out of your mecha because the battle’s over. Your nerves still sing from your part in the ship’s defense. You peel the shimmering layer of mecha down your arms, your wound-scarred torso, your legs. Nanoprob
es withdraw, pricking your depilated skin with delightful heat, and the mecha pools on the silver deck like a satisfied cat. Released from their unnatural tensile state, your muscles slacken. You’re a normal soldier again.
A trooper, still wearing her mecha, pokes her head in the door. “Sarge, they need you in Blue Area.”
You groan. “Confirmed. Go strip off, Park. That suit’ll tear you up if you’re not careful.”
“Sir. On my way, sir.”
The door shuts. You do some isometrics under the black monitor cameras before you pull on your black undress coverall. Your uniform cap hides the pressure marks on your bare scalp. You suck down a tube of the protein paste regulations require, post-mecha, and jog to your next assignment.
Following a yellow strip on the deck leads you to a cluster of primary-colored triangles. The silver corridors surge with squads of mechanized troopers trotting in unison; engineers inspecting the bulkheads for damage; civilian scientists cleaning away debris from the unsuccessful attack. The air stinks of burnt plastic, not masked by the lemony deodorizer pumping out of the air recyclers. You take the upship corridor to Blue.
“Sergeant Flood,” says a trim blonde officer manning the Blue control desk.
“Sir.”
“Roo Squad captured one of the terrorists. Find out what she knows.” He gives you a palm reader, with her record open. It shows a DNA scan and nothing else.
“Yes, sir.”
He gazes at you solemnly. “We need this information, Sergeant Flood. If the Terraformers are still making an effort to capture Beta-Coriolanus for their use, we need to know. The recent communications blackout has made our Intelligence very…unhappy, with the elections coming up.”
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