Unwrapping Miss Milky Way

by Candace Sams

  Charlie walked ahead of him and tossed back the hair lying on her left shoulder.

  Datron physically restrained himself from reaching out and grabbing a fistful of the glossy, loosely curling mass. His fingers ached to see if the long, glittering and smooth strands were as soft as they looked. And then he caught sight of the way her tight little butt swayed gently as she moved. At almost the same instant, he noticed several Oceanus crewmen openly staring when they should have been checking the landing gear on a nearby galaxy-class fighter.

  “Keep to your business!” he barked, then chided himself for his rougher-than-necessary tone.

  He fought yet another urge, this one having to do with splaying his hands on her perfectly rounded little rump to steady her. He could always move them up to her almost non-existent waist and say his hands had slipped. But the action would be totally inappropriate for the time and place. Charlie would probably turn and slap the crap out of him for his audacity. Still, he’d take a good face-cracking from her anytime if it meant he could accompany her someplace later and make up. About a thousand ways to have make-up sex filtered into his brain when he should have been thinking of the mission ahead, and how he’d hire her if she passed her background checks.

  A sudden idea came to mind and garnered a resulting smile before he could stop himself.

  At the top of the gangway and just inside the outer hatch, Charlie turned to wait for him. His senses reeled when the full force of the sun hit her enticing eyes again and bounced off her shimmering hair. Her unexpected, bright smile boiled his blood.

  Nebor’s Balls!

  She had the whitest, purest smile he’d ever seen. It appeared even more enchanting because her eyes lit up as if they were reflecting a million stars. Why had he overlooked these attributes before? Where, by the outer rings of Krissius, had his head been? Her wigs and pageant regalia aside, he should have noted the bounty beneath all the wrapping.

  “Uh… I’ll go first,” he lamely blurted.

  Without another word, he walked into the vessel and headed aft.

  Ten minutes later he stopped outside the engine room hatch. He turned to the petite beauty behind him only to see several crewmen gawking at the shimmering little enchantress. He glared at them, and they quickly made their way further into the ship. Surely, if she passed all her background checks, Clitus and Gilla would behave more responsibly and professional. Still, it was difficult to fault the males aboard for their taste. Charlie was a divine piece of work. But that kind of thinking wasn’t getting his job done nor did it help him control how his blood heated in her proximity. He lifted his chin and got to the business at hand.

  “Inside is the engine,” he pointlessly remarked, realizing immediately that if she had practical experience as a mechanic she’d know this. But he had to say something. Stating the obvious was all he could do and keep his voice sounding normal. “Using Earth measurements, the Valiant’s engine is housed in a three-quarter inch thick container made of pure titanium. It’s designed to fit exactly within the space allotted—there’s been no room wasted. As you’ve already mentioned, the fuel source is a carefully mixed ratio of Hellion, Carbidium, and Irundium gases. But what you don’t know is the particular percentage.”

  Charlie’s blue-green eyes flashed with a bit of annoyance. “Actually… I do,” she smartly replied. “It’s twenty-five, twenty-two, and fifty-three percent respectively. The Irundium, being the rarest and most combustible of the components, has to go into the containment field last. But only when the other two gases reach seventeen percent. The mixture has to be monitored constantly at that point.”

  The woman knew she was being tested and didn’t like it one bit. Maybe she’d change her tune when she found out why, and he showed her the contract that’d been drawn up for her services. A boilerplate agreement, to be sure, but the amount she’d be paid was obscenely high. Like any engineer working as a subcontractor for a law enforcement agency, she’d be expected to keep her mouth closed about anything she saw or heard. In this instance, he meant to make sure she found out absolutely nothing.

  Despite the look of irritation on her face, he continued.

  “The computer is monitoring the exact procedure you’ve just outlined. My engineer came to the same conclusion you did about the mixing problem. Do you care to take a step up and check out the readings?”

  “I’d be happy to,” she responded sharply and walked toward the wall computer he indicated.

  Standing behind her, he couldn’t help but grin at the aggravated note in her voice. Clearly, she thought he didn’t take her at her word and disliked him testing her knowledge. Charlie stood on her toes to look at the computer screen, and he automatically lifted his hands to put them around her waist and lift her. Then he quickly realized such an action in uniform and in public would be a breach of Oceanus’ uniform codes. Those rules strictly prohibited any such intimate contact.

  He quickly dropped his hands. But not before three engine crewmen chuckled at his expense. Once more, he silently glared at them and they scuttled back to their duties.

  “The mixing procedure is almost done,” Charlotte announced. “But whoever’s at the controls within the containment field needs to push the Irundium two percent or he’ll be off that exact amount when he’s done. It’ll be a bitch trying to get the gases right after they’ve all been released. He could be in there the rest of the evening.” She stood back after making that declaration and gazed up at him.

  He pushed the communication button on the wall.

  “Captain to Engineer,” he said as he moved closer to the bulkhead communicator.

  “Aye, sir?”

  “We have a master mechanic aboard who suggests pushing the Irundium by two percent. After all the gases have been released into the field, give me a read-out,” he ordered.

  “Aye, sir.”

  He stepped back and silently gazed down at her, waiting for Charlie to question his actions. He wasn’t disappointed.

  “What’s going on?” she quickly asked. “You brought me here to assess my capabilities. You’ve been watching me like a hawk watches a mouse and you tried to catch me making a mistake regarding the fuel ratios. Why? Didn’t you believe what I told you in the hotel? Do you actually think I made all that guff up about my training?”

  “I do believe you, Charlie. You couldn’t have come up with a solution to the Valiant’s engine problem so spontaneously. You either knew what you were doing, or I didn’t.” He moved closer to her. “The truth is you probably know more about my own engine than I do. I’m just a lowly captain, in charge of getting the crew to their next duty assignment and enforcing the law once we get there. I’m not a mechanic or an engineer, that’s why I have the best people on board to figure these things out. I simply wanted you to see if my engineer came to the exact same conclusions. He acted on them as you would have. I’m trying to pay you a compliment. Not disrespect your ability.”

  “You might have said so. I got the feeling that you lured me into a response.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I did. There’s motive for my actions, but I can’t talk about it now.”

  She tilted her head, put her hands on her hips, and stared up at him. It was an almost ninety-degree effort given the difference in their heights. “When do I find out what’s up?” she asked.

  “Share dinner with me tonight and I’ll tell you. Last night was your treat, tonight’s mine. How about it, Charlie?” Her answer was waylaid by the engineer’s voice sounding through the ship-wide communication system.

  “Captain, the read-out is perfect. I’ve never had my gauges measure such a successful mixing without hours of flushing the field and recalibrating. Tell that mechanic they have my thanks. I’ll take a few more measurements as procedure requires, but I think we’ll actually be able to end our shift on time.”

  Datron glanced around the engine room and saw smiles light the faces of crewmembers. Their anticipation at getting to their homes notwithstanding, he had
an engineer in a dangerous containment field full of volatile gases, that man could now exit, remove his protective suiting, and join his comrades in a shuttle ride home. He put his attention back on Charlie who smiled at him with a little I told you so expression on her pretty face.

  “What’s your answer?” he prompted when she remained silent.

  She clasped her hands in front of her and stared at the ceiling as if considering. Finally, she responded. “Okay… I’ll go out with you. But only if I can choose where. And only if I can see the rest of the ship before your shift is over.”

  He broke into a broad grin. “It’s a deal. Pick a place with a great view. The sky’s the limit.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got one in mind,” she promised as she arched one brow and sauntered away to look over some other dials and meters.

  He tried to quell his anticipation. But no dinner acceptance had ever pleased him quite as much as hers.

  If she wanted champagne and the rarest chocolate on the planet, he’d splurge. The offer he was going to make had to do with business. But nothing said the rest of the night needed to be strictly professional, assuming she accepted the job.

  And of course she would.

  She’d be crazy to pass up the contract. Indeed, there were a number of ways to convince her even if the money involved didn’t.

  In that moment, he couldn’t imagine anything in her background that would forestall her being hired. A woman with her kind of intelligence didn’t make criminal life choices. She had too much to lose.

  How could anyone be around her and not realize, in their hearts, she was special. Crew and visitors alike smiled when they saw her. It was as if she brought the sun with her and chased away shadows. The sweet expression on her face, even as she examined intricate equipment, enchanted him. She was utterly unaware of the effect she had on others as she stood on her toes to gaze at a port calibration panel. The intensity she exhibited while doing so, combined with her cute turned-up nose, made her even more adorable.

  Something in Datron came alive—as if everything was new and all possibilities existed.

  As he stood watching her, more passing crewmen stared in her direction. A few of the males with rather rakish reputations slowed to speak to her. He automatically bolted forward and pasted on a severe look. His actions had them lowering their heads in consternation and respect. They nodded at him and went about their business quickly.

  While she was aboard the Valiant, she was his responsibility. His to guide.

  In fact, he was rather alarmed at how suddenly she became his in a number of ways that simply weren’t appropriate. But rather than fight the rising protective, proprietary urges, he allowed himself this luxury.

  For once, in the last two years, something was going right. And nothing and no one was going to quash the energy surging forward.

  Tonight would be the start of something special. He could feel it in his bones and deep inside the cells of his body.

  He’d offer her the contract, and she’d accept. He would complete this damned mission and fly back to her.

  And then…

  Then he’d pursue her with all the zeal of a tail after a comet.

  Different from every other woman he’d ever known, he could see his quest ending in something special. Something lasting.

  With his goal concerning Charlie made, he pasted himself to her side and kept his eyes on her thereafter.

  Chapter Eight

  Electra walked into the hangar where their mission vessel was housed, saw Clitus and Gilla speaking with one another, and slowly strode toward them. She nodded in acknowledgement when they noted her arrival.

  “Good evening, Electra. Have you all the information on Charlotte?” Gilla asked.

  She nodded. “I do. Charlotte Grayson is simply the most outstanding example of a human being I’ve ever run across. She’s won just about every contest or game in which she’s ever competed, and has amassed quite a few design awards.” Electra shook her head in wonder. “She holds several patents for mechanical procedures, she’s an accomplished swimmer, accomplished musician, and even plays a mean hand of poker when the occasion calls for it. All that’s on top of her career in aerospace design and mechanics. As to a criminal history, she doesn’t even have a damn traffic citation to her name. She’s as clean as the day she came into the world, perfect for this job in every way. I couldn’t have found anyone so faultless if my life depended on the outcome.”

  “Well then…we’re all set,” Clitus announced. “There’s nothing about her in any Oceanus records, nor in any other database Gilla or I accessed when we did our own search.”

  “There is one detail I should mention though it has nothing to do with her suitability,” Electra warned. “I… I…need to speak to the two of you about it. Knowing the details makes me feel as though I’ve pried into something I shouldn’t have. The girl is so full of life. So full of promise…” her voice trailed away.

  “Please elucidate,” Gilla graciously requested. “What has you so disturbed? If she’s so accomplished and poses no threat to the mission then what could possibly be the matter?”

  “I just don’t know how to say it,” Electra sadly told them. “I thought we had problems. But hers certainly puts things into perspective!”

  Clitus and Gilla glanced at each other.

  Electra slowly paced for a few moments, then faced them and brusquely blurted her news. “The girl is dying. Charlotte Grayson’s Earth file includes her medical history. As you know, anyone traveling off my home world nowadays has to have medical clearance. And while what she has isn’t contagious and wouldn’t negate legally travelling between planets, there’s no room for doubt. She has only a short time to live.”

  Gilla shook his head. “From the Captain’s description, I understood this person to be healthy and robust. Most of these female pageant contestants are.”

  “You’re right to tell us,” Clitus chimed in. “If there’s something about this woman that might keep her from doing her job safely or on schedule, we do need to know.”

  Electra attempted to recite all the knowledge she’d gleaned from her hours of secretive computer research. “I don’t think that will be the case. Charlotte has something called Black Hole Syndrome. Like its namesake, scientists have been unable to figure out its elusive origins. It’s exceedingly rare and is caused by some unknown factor in the environment shortly after a child is born. It’s usually discovered when an infant is given its post-birth examination.” She helplessly shrugged. “No one knows why it happens except the baby has been exposed to something that invades its under-developed immune system.”

  “And there is no other data?” Gilla asked. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “Neither have I.” Clitus inserted.

  “This is what is known,” Electra continued, “the victims never reach the age of thirty, the condition only occurs in one-in-ten million infants, and it can afflict any child of any species. Furthermore…doctors are able to tell, almost to the minute, when a young adult will succumb.”

  “It sounds…insidious…and damned terrible that a person will know when they will die. I’ve been in dozens of battles and couldn’t begin to guess when I’ll take my last breath.” Clitus rubbed his brow. “I wouldn’t want to know.”

  Electra glanced at them before telling the rest. “Until a baby inflicted with this malady gets to their late twenties, they’re totally asymptomatic. They live utterly normal existences. However…about two years before the victim dies, there’s a gradual buildup of an enzyme in the brain. It’s the same enzyme that diagnoses the disease from birth. But once this build-up of proteins begins, doctors can calculate when the brain function will cease. There will be a series of small convulsions in the last week prior to death. As I said, the victims never have any other symptoms besides these convulsions.”

  “And then?” both men asked simultaneously.

  “Once the brain ceases to function, the patient can ob
viously be kept alive by artificial means but…their gray matter is more like a sponge at that point. The parents of such infants outlive the child. They aren’t carriers. In fact, none of the parents giving birth to inflicted babies ever had any other children with the syndrome. The disorder isn’t communicable as I’ve said. Had that been the case Charlotte would have been quarantined and could never have left Earth.”

  “She knows all this?” Clitus softly asked.

  Electra nodded. “Of course she knows. She’s approximately eighteen months away from her first convulsion. She won’t be rational thereafter. It’ll be quick. Or so I’ve read.”

  Gilla shook his head and sighed heavily. “Why hasn’t someone discovered the environmental agent for such a horrible disorder?”

  “With only one-in-ten million infants ever contracting it, there’s not much motivation to study the damn thing,” Electra surmised. “Charlotte’s case is particularly tragic.”

  “Is it her family?” Clitus asked. “They must have a dreadful time dealing with this situation. Don’t they want her home, back on Earth?”

  “There’s no family. According to the records, her uncaring parents found out she had the disease shortly after birth and dumped her at an orphanage. An agreement was reached in which she could never learn who they were. Even I can’t find out since those records have been expunged.”

  “No,” Gilla said as he and Clitus moved toward her. “Someone wouldn’t do that to a tiny baby.”

  “That’s exactly what was done. She was raised by nuns in a Chicago diocese. Once she was old enough to understand her condition and be counseled about it, she started having behavioral issues—”

  “I daresay,” Gilla interrupted. “Can you imagine being told such a thing?”

  “That’s not the kind of issues I meant,” Electra corrected. “Charlotte Grayson did nothing really wrong. The sisters who raised and cared for her reported they had the very devil-of-a-time trying to keep her within four walls. She’d sneak out late at night and find any mechanical thing she could—from library servo-droids to wall computers, clocks, and toys—she’d take them apart. Then she’d put them back together again and draw intricate pictures or schematics about what she’d done.”