Love Partner

by Robie Madison

  He suppressed a grin and decided it best not to mention right now that his edict against her expressive use of language had also been part of his plan to distract her.

  “I, ah, ‘put two and two together’. I didn’t know anything until I met you in the docking bay this morning. I recognized the symptoms, you were wearing that ugly jumpsuit and I wanted to kiss you, so I improvised.” And took advantage of the fact that he’d already arranged for his crew to be busy elsewhere so he could welcome her himself.

  “Right. You just happened to recognize the symptoms.” She guffawed and waived her hand dismissively. “Somehow I can’t see you suffering from anxiety attacks.”

  “I don’t, but my oldest brother does. Many years ago he was trapped inside a chamber of a cave for nearly a week. Over the years I’ve learned how to distract him when the memories become too strong. To this day he avoids dark, enclosed spaces, always goes to bed in the largest room in the house and sleeps with a light on.”

  “Lucky him, he can sleep,” she muttered.

  With a gesture in the direction of the lab, he indicated they should keep walking.

  She followed him, but kept arguing her case. “I mean it, Judan. I’m sorry you know about the panic attacks, but that doesn’t change the fact that I can do my job and I don’t need you holding my hand every time I get nervous.”

  Evidently the trust she’d given him a short while before didn’t extend past the bedroom. Fortunately, he was a patient man. He could wait.

  In a way he understood exactly what she was up against. Deep down she had trouble trusting the unexpected, yet undeniable, attraction between them. He would probably feel the same way if he hadn’t had centuries of Dakokatan tradition and experience behind him. As it was, he still planned to look for an explanation for the Rakanasmara between them. In the meantime he would keep Myrina safe—even from her own nightmares if necessary.

  The back of her hand brushed against his. The fine hairs tickled his skin, sending a vibrant strand of energy arcing between them. He caught hold, lacing their fingers together. She glanced up at him and arched an eyebrow. He shrugged. He wasn’t about to apologize. It felt too good.

  Besides, he needed this woman. Not just as a life partner, but for her skills as a scientist. And while her anxiety attacks had obviously restricted her field work, her work record itself indicated a remarkable dedication to her job. It was one he shared.

  “The Dakokatans are a race of explorers. That is how we came to live on our current homeworld,” he said. “So despite your assumptions yesterday, we weren’t playing with environments when we chose Hitani for further exploration. But there’s no explanation for what’s happening down on the planet. There’s no explanation for why the Outposters are sick in the first place.”

  He stopped, unable to articulate fully the sense of accountability he felt towards the Outposters. He’d already lost one of them. He, she—they had to save the rest. Failure was not an option.

  Her nod was brief, her smile even briefer, then her thumb brushed along the back of his hand.

  “I’ll save those people, Judan,” she said, her voice quiet but confident. “You have my word.”

  * * * * *

  Growing up in an orphanage, Myrina had learned to guard her food and her few pieces of clothing, because neither were replaced if she lost them. She’d learned how to act tough and, eventually, become tough. And she’d learned that the only thing of value she could call her own was her word.

  So, until about two minutes ago, she’d never made a promise she didn’t know with one hundred percent certainty she could keep. Why, then, had she uttered such a rash statement? It wasn’t as if she’d been trying to impress the green guy. His impromptu stunt to get her aboard the ship all but told her he was a man impressed by actions—even crazy, spur-of-the-moment ones—not words. A credo she herself believed in.

  When it came to saving environments and people, mostly from each other, her colleagues at TLC would be the first to attest that her methods were often audacious. Once she had her proof she never hesitated in voicing her opinion and she was always brutally forthright about her findings.

  And therein now lay her problem. She’d skipped a couple of steps, bypassing the proof altogether and rushing straight past ruthless honesty to paint a rash fairy-tale ending for the Outposters. What was more, Judan had accepted her word without question.

  Myrina had never had that kind of naive faith in another human being. It was a little awe-inspiring to realize the Dakokatan apparently had. In her.

  She glanced at the man standing beside her in the elevator tube. Despite having witnessed her panic attacks, he still wanted her for the job. He hadn’t judged her and found her wanting. She was far less generous with herself.

  Not that she doubted her own abilities. She did not need a lab report to know the ecosystem on Hitani was seriously pissed at the Dakokatan “invasion”. Like any sentient being, however primitive, threatened planets and moons could become highly protective of the indigenous life forms they sustained. A hypothesis she’d proved time and again.

  No, the trick was in locating the one small factor that turned the seemingly benign planet hostile. Even there, she was sure of herself. Within the micro-world of her lab she maintained absolute command. Whatever was making the Outposters sick and keeping them stranded on Hitani, she’d find the answer. What she couldn’t guarantee was that she could rescue them, because sometimes all the dedication in the world just wasn’t enough. A lesson she’d learned the hard way.

  Judan’s large green hand enclosed hers in a steady warmth that sent tiny, pleasant ripples up her arm. And, once again, his hair seemed to have a peculiar affinity for her. Several copper locks had wrapped themselves around her upper arm, binding her close to his side. What was even more amazing was that she calmly tolerated all this touchy-feely stuff between them. After less than a day, her personal boundaries seemed shot to hell—make that heck—around this man. Geesh, she was even trying to adhere to his damn—darn—edict about language usage.

  But she had to do better than that. Fenton hadn’t been far wrong when he’d said her job was on the line with this assignment. Sure he’d intended to scare the crap out of her, even if he hadn’t meant the threat literally. She hoped. In spite of their deal, she’d known that eventually she’d have to accept an off-world mission. Her job demanded it, whether she had anxiety attacks or not.

  And TLC wasn’t just a job or a place where she lived. It was the only place she’d ever really called her home. But while she cared about TLC, her career wasn’t what drove her.

  Her job provided her with the means of preventing the unnecessary abuse of ecosystems and the ability to save people from colossal, potentially life-threatening mistakes. Judan’s mission was to save the Outposters and, from what he’d just said, he would hold himself accountable to those seventy-seven stranded Dakokatans. She was no less committed. And now, with her promise, she’d placed herself squarely in a position of being accountable to them, too.

  Not a smart move when the final outcome was so unpredictable. Because deep down she knew the truth. In accepting her promise, Judan Ringa also expected results.

  Will he still want me if I can’t save those people? Will I still want him?

  Bottom line, she never wanted to be in a position to find out either answer. She could not fail. She did not want seventy-seven souls on her conscience. Two were more than enough for one lifetime.

  Chapter Five

  The tantalizing smell of rich coffee assailed Myrina’s senses the moment the door into the mess room opened. Good thing the science lab was located four decks below, deep within the bowels of the ship, otherwise she might have been lured out sooner.

  The lab itself was about a quarter of the size of the one she had at TLC, but the equipment was state-of-the-art. And, once Judan had shown her around, she’d worked steadily all morning bringing herself up to speed. If he hadn’t come along a few minutes ago and insisted s
he join him for a meal, she’d probably still be there reviewing data logs.

  She hunched her shoulders to work out the kinks, then sniffed the air, positive she was hallucinating the suspiciously familiar aroma. “Wow, that smells good. Reminds me of home.”

  A place she hadn’t thought of all morning. Not that she’d spent her time brooding about being aboard the Speedlite either.

  A challenging mystery always absorbed her attention and in this case the Hitani crisis had done double duty holding her anxiety attacks at bay.

  “I made a, how do you say, fresh pot,” Judan said.

  She glanced up at him when she heard the familiar catchphrase that suggested Judan was still testing out an English idiom. Coffee must be new to Dakokatans and she wondered if he’d acquired a taste for the brew during the negotiations with the Confederacy.

  “Would you like a cup?” he asked, steering her into the room.

  She enjoyed the feel of his hand on the small of her back, though his proprietary interest still had the ability to surprise her. Curious, since other men had certainly desired her and actively shown their interest, too. Except she’d never reciprocated with the same intense feelings towards any of them the way she did with this man. There was something about Judan that drew her attention and, quite definitely, her desire. She still wasn’t certain what to make of the fact that he didn’t want an affair, simply her. There was nothing simple about that. Or about what she wanted in return. Him, for a start. Already she could feel the sexual hunger stirring in her womb.

  “Sure,” she nodded, turning toward him. Why not? She was already living on the edge. “It smells a little strong for my taste, but I think my system could use the wake-up call.”

  Judan frowned. “Too strong? I followed Dr. Brown’s instructions precisely.”

  Shoving a braided strand of copper hair off her arm, she looked up at him. So the smell wasn’t a delusion wrought by an anxious mind, then, but an equally improbable reality. “You’re joking, right? When did you see Parker? And how did you persuade him to part with some coffee? He guards his stash of beans like a rare metals merchant.”

  “I believe Dr. deCarte just called you a liar, brother.”

  Brother? His brother is a member of the crew? Well crap.

  “And here I thought you were running a ghost ship,” she whispered up at him.

  While she’d been just as happy not to meet members of the crew in a state of semi-undress, she had begun to wonder about the total absence of a crew. A ship this size generally had between fifteen and twenty crew members. Gritting her teeth and ignoring Judan’s low growl of exasperation, she twisted around to face a man and two women.

  Behind her, Judan said, “I’m operating what in English you call a ‘skeleton crew’. There are five aboard, six including you. Does that qualify?”

  She shook her head at his lame joke, though secretly she smiled. He might not be entirely comfortable with English idioms yet he was adapting to them. To her.

  “You can’t keep her to yourself forever, Judan. Aren’t you going to introduce the esteemed doctor?”

  Myrina quirked her eyebrow. The comment was rather pointed, bordering on outright rude. The small size of the crew explained why she hadn’t met any of them until now. Likewise the crisis on Hitani explained why they hadn’t bumped into her. She wasn’t exactly here to socialize.

  The man, Judan’s brother, stood near a sideboard laden with food. At least two inches taller than Judan and at least two years younger than she, his blond hair was tied back from his face. Only the blunt lines of his cheek and jawbone declared him a Ringa, along with the laser-sharp green eyes that looked her up and down with open curiosity. Then he winked at her. A challenge of sorts because he had to know Judan had seen him. And sure enough, Judan settled a large, warm hand on her shoulder in a primitive show of possession. Reflexively, he rubbed his thumb along her shoulder blade, but whether it was to soothe her or him, she didn’t know.

  And here I thought the Dakokatans were a highly civilized culture. Yet Judan had clearly staked his claim to her. Just how primitive was he planning to get?

  “I think Myrina meant I received a valuable gift from Dr. Brown when I met him earlier this morning. Isn’t that right?” he asked, squeezing her shoulder lightly in case she didn’t get the hint.

  “Right,” she said to no one in particular.

  She deliberately ignored the brother’s wolfish grin. Something more than sibling rivalry was going on between them and she wanted no part of it. Judan’s assessment, however, was fairly astute. While she wondered what kind of meeting Judan and Parker had had early this morning, Judan really must have made an impression for Parker to part with even a single coffee bean.

  “My brother, Vand,” Judan said by way of introduction. “He was the medical officer aboard the reconnaissance vessel sent to assist the Outposters on Hitani before he joined the Ketiga Bulan.”

  Judan’s words were stark and emotionless, just as they had been the other day in Fenton’s office. So Vand was the one who wrote the report on the dead Outposter. The report had been competent, if uninspiring in its conclusions. Sensitive to Judan’s sudden change in mood and her new insight, she studied his brother and wondered, again, what was going on between them.

  If he noticed her scrutiny, Vand chose to ignore it and Judan. Instead he quirked a smile and bowed low in her direction. “Welcome aboard, Dr. deCarte.”

  Out of innate politeness she sent a protracted nod toward him. At that moment several strands of copper hair cascaded across her arm. The stuff seemed to have a mind of its own and a definite affinity for her. Unconsciously she shifted when the fine hairs tickled her skin. Four pairs of emerald eyes intently watched her reaction.

  What’s with these people?

  First Judan and now his crew. They acted as if they expected her to do…what? It was all a big mystery to her and one she didn’t particularly like. She did not want to spend the trip as though she were under a microscope.

  “This,” Judan said, gesturing toward the older of the two women, “is Chiara, my Second-in-Command and the Communications Officer. Beside her is Hylla, the navigator. The systems engineer is still working.”

  Myrina dutifully smiled and nodded toward the two women. Both topped six feet, which made her the little white human among the tall, green Dakokatans. Used to growing up, living and working in multicultural environments, she experienced an odd sense of disorientation coupled with the inexplicable urge to back into Judan’s embrace. No wonder everyone was staring at her. She truly was the alien aboard the Speedlite.

  “They won’t bite,” Judan said, pitching his voice low so only she could hear his words. He released his grip on her shoulder. “Sit and I’ll get you something to eat.”

  Normally, she would have protested his high-handedness or simply followed him to the sideboard. And she didn’t doubt he somehow knew that, hence his diversionary tactic. They won’t bite, my—sweet petunia! Better not to tempt fate or the all too calculated gaze of the Second. Myrina was now just as curious about the other Dakokatans as they were about her.

  If there was a dress code among the crew, she couldn’t spot one. Unlike the Confederacy, no one wore a rank or insignia. Like his brother, Vand wore skintight leggings and a belted tunic, only his were a warm rust color that matched his boots. The two women wore a looser pant and smart, three-quarter-sleeve jackets in shades of brown. Myrina made a mental note to ditch her skirt and stick to pants, so she wouldn’t stand out any more than she already did.

  Casually she glanced around. The room could easily accommodate sixty people, but the small crew had elected to sit at a table closest to the galley. The large mess room was decorated in soothing shades of red and brown. Not quite as ornate as the furnishings in her room, the sideboard, chairs and tables were, nevertheless, beautifully carved.

  She sauntered over to the women’s table, choosing a chair opposite them. Both women sat back down in their seats when she did. A
pitcher of water sat in the middle of the table, next to a basket of cutlery. She poured herself a glass and took a sip, taking the opportunity to study the women surreptitiously.

  Hylla, who looked to be about Vand’s age, gazed in utter fascination at Myrina’s short hair. She also seemed self-conscious of her own because she kept patting it with her hand. Myrina guessed short styles weren’t common among the Dakokatan. Both Hylla and Vand had secured their hair in a long braid behind their backs. Chiara, on the other hand, wore one of those ugly, wig-like hairpieces that Judan had worn in Fenton’s office. The coarse sticks of synthetic hair did nothing to enhance nor soften the no-nonsense lines on the older woman’s face.

  By the time Judan returned to the table with two steaming bowls of food, Vand had joined the group, three seats to her left. Close enough to appear sociable, but definitely his own man.

  Following the brothers’ example, she took a spoon and a fork from the basket and began to eat, using the fork to shove the food onto her spoon. Her first taste of the grain, meat and vegetable concoction burst into a riot of flavors inside her mouth. Burning heat vied with exquisite pleasure, causing her eyes to fill with tears. Her entire body was infused with a short blast of energy and her stomach gave a low rumble of approval.

  She suspected she’d just been introduced to one of those high-powered protein sources used on long distance voyages. Both the natural and synthetic varieties of the food were intended to counteract the stressful effects of space travel while maintaining a healthy balance of nutrients. She’d eaten the synthetic variety years ago, but this tasted like the real thing. She took another sip of her water before cautiously filling her spoon again.

  “Do you like the taste of giant sand lizard or do you find it too…spicy?” Chiara asked, hesitating slightly over the last word. Her accent was heavy but her English was good.

  Myrina really wished the Second hadn’t specified the exact food source, but guessed the older woman was testing her. She obviously knew nothing about life in an orphanage. Myrina had learned quickly enough to simply be grateful for any food put in front of her.