“It’s delicious. Thank you,” she said and took another mouthful to prove it.
The five of them ate in silence. When the meal was finished, Vand and Hylla cleared away the plates while Judan collected the pot of coffee from the sideboard. Myrina, used to chores, offered to help but was waved back into her seat. The other Dakokatans, for the moment, lost their interest in her as they watched him pour the dark liquid into ceramic mugs. Used to a wide range of reactions to Parker’s personal blend, Myrina sat back, fascinated as each of the Dakokatans coped with the new experience.
Vand, determined not to be outdone by his sophisticated brother yet intent on appearing nonchalant about the whole matter, sniffed the brew before taking a hefty slug. His face lit with pleasure, evidence that he enjoyed it. Hylla clearly hated the taste, but feared offending the Captain. Myrina had no such qualms.
“You definitely followed Parker’s recipe,” she said. “Do you have any milk or cream to cut the taste?”
Not offended in the least, Judan smiled and looked rather pleased with himself. The damn man thought she was giving him a compliment. Across the table, Chiara sent her a stern glance, but Hylla rushed off to the galley, clearly relieved at being offered a solution to the strong flavor. Myrina suspected from the older woman’s own tentative sips that the Second didn’t much like the coffee either.
A few minutes later Myrina poured a healthy shot of what Hylla called santan into her coffee. The white, milky substance, Hylla told her, came from a Dakokatan fruit, kelapas. Myrina found it both diluted and slightly sweetened the strong brew. She set the jug on the table. As for the consequences facing the Outposters, she had no intention of diluting the truth or sweetening the facts. If a solution wasn’t found soon, the men and women could all end up dead.
“Before he died, Lorre was a walking pharmacy,” she said. She purposely used the man’s name, listed in the report, to give her statement more impact.
And she sure as hell succeeded. For a second, everyone at the table froze, then Vand set down his mug with a bang. Coffee sloshed over the side, staining the table. His jaw clenched and he stuck his hand under the table, probably in an effort to control his temper. On the other side of her, Judan resumed sipping his coffee as though he were completely indifferent to her news. Still, she sensed the tension radiating from him. He’d gone into alert mode.
“That information was in my report,” Vand said at last. “I recorded all the meds Lorre was taking. Nothing was hidden.”
“I know,” she said, gently. “I didn’t say you or anyone else was hiding information, Vand. I was simply stating a fact.”
“Facts,” Vand spat out. “I already know the facts. Lorre is dead. You’re supposed to give us the solution. A way of getting those people off that damn planet before they’re all killed.”
A thin line of perspiration broke out across her brow, but Myrina stared the young man down. She suspected his lack of specific conclusions in the report was a result of ignorance, so she didn’t take the accusations personally. Vand had obviously been deeply affected by the Outposter’s death.
“Didn’t you find it odd that a man of twenty-three had so many ailments?” she asked.
Across from her Hylla gasped. “My cousin is on Hitani,” she said. “He’s twenty-five and…” She choked on her words and her voice trailed off. She darted a glance toward Judan who’d remained conspicuously silent.
Seconds later his hand rested on hers. A restraint of sorts which he tempered with a brief caress, so she kept silent. Across from her, Chiara shifted in her seat. Like Myrina, she obviously sensed the strain between the two men.
“Vand?” Judan said, looking straight past her to his brother.
Vand stood so abruptly his chair tipped backwards onto the floor. “Of course I thought it was abnormal!” he shouted. With some effort he reined in his emotions. “When I checked my findings with the information on the medical data-chip, it appeared the symptoms kept accelerating exponentially on an almost daily basis.”
Myrina nodded. “The meds he was taking gave him a measure of relief and slowed the rate of progress down some, but not enough.”
“All the Outposters are being treated for one ailment or another,” Chiara said.
“Yes I know,” Myrina said. “That’s the problem.”
“Explain.” Judan’s voice was pitched low so the others had to strain to hear him.
“The meds being prescribed are intended to treat real medical conditions,” she said. “But the illnesses afflicting the Outposters are phantom manifestations.”
“Bullshit, Doctor,” Vand said. His voice had turned hard as he struggled to suppress all emotion. “Lorre’s arthritis was very real. He couldn’t even greet me properly when we met, his hand was so twisted and inflamed.”
The keen edge of frustration laced his every word or maybe it was plain old garden variety fear. Myrina certainly detected the fear in Hylla’s eyes and the sense of grave uncertainty in Chiara’s frown. Even Judan, who’d kept his face impassive as he’d listened to her, couldn’t quite hide his concern despite his apparent trust in her.
Oh yeah, he trusted her all right. To find a solution and, as Vand put it, get those people off the damn planet. She was glad she’d chosen to wear light fabrics to combat the higher temperatures aboard ship. Even so the cloth stuck to her skin, which felt itchy. She stood, hoping to ease her discomfort. This was the part of her job she hated the most. None of them wanted to hear that the Outposters’ situation would get far worse before it got better.
“You saw for yourself,” she finally said, directing her comments to the medical officer in the group but well aware that the other crew members were listening just as intently. “The meds aren’t doing their job because the various illnesses are symptoms of a greater problem. They may appear real enough, but if you conduct a deep physiological scan on Lorre’s body you’ll discover there are great inconsistencies with the progress of each of his conditions.”
Vand righted his chair but remained standing. As quickly as his temper had flared, he’d turned contemplative. “I’d like to see those results,” he said. “I didn’t consider running a deep scan. How did you know what to look for?”
“Experience,” she said, not in the least offended by his desire to check her work. She respected a person who was willing to learn from his mistakes. “And I still don’t know exactly what I’m looking for, just where to look. In the meantime the Outposters have to stop taking their meds immediately.”
“But they could die,” Hylla said.
Before Myrina could respond, the shortest Dakokatan she’d seen yet rushed through the door. He stood a shade under six feet tall and had a much stockier build than the other crew members. Even his slightly disheveled appearance was out of character for a Dakokatan. At least the ones she’d met so far. Bags rimmed his eyes which were shot with red. Not a flattering color combination against the deep green. He carried a rag in his hand and used it to wipe the fine traces of sweat soaking his flushed face. He looked as if he’d been working under the hot sun instead of inside the bowels of a ship.
“I did it, Captain,” the man said. In his agitated excitement, he was blithely unaware of the strained silence in the room.
“This is Dr. deCarte, Biali. What happened?” Judan stood beside her, his fingers caressing her arm. His voice reverberated with a sudden excitement.
Biali barely glanced in her direction. “It took a few reconfigurations of the propulsion system following Stinn’s Notations, Captain, but the simulation worked. A hyperslide is now possible on the Speedlite.”
“How many times did you test the scenario in the simulator?” Chiara asked. “I’m not endorsing multiple hyperslides based on recommendations from your space trader friends.”
“Ideas, yes, I took those from my friends,” Biali said. “Endorsements, no. I did the testing myself. Seven sequential simulations with a time lapse of no more than five minutes between tests. The Ketiga Bulan will
take much longer to recycle between jumps.”
Chiara nodded in obvious satisfaction. “Captain.”
“Yes, Captain,” Myrina said. She had no clue what a hyperslide was, except both Judan and Biali looked mighty pleased with themselves. “Would someone mind telling me what, exactly, a hyperslide is?” she asked.
Above her, Judan chuckled. “I wondered how long it would take for you to, how do you say, get in the act. Explain it to her, Biali.”
“By adjusting the propulsion system, I’ve enabled the ship to continue its accelerated momentum after it comes out of a space-time jump, hence the term hyperslide.”
“How soon until we’ve powered up for the next jump, Hylla?” Judan asked without waiting for her comment.
Myrina hadn’t even noticed the navigator had joined the little conclave. She stood close enough to Biali that their arms brushed against one another.
“Ten, fifteen minutes tops, Captain. And I’ve also been studying the chapter on navigational techniques from Stinn’s Notations, sir.”
“Then you feel confident you can maneuver us into a hyperslide after the next jump?”
“Yes, sir,” Hylla said, sending a quick smile in Biali’s direction. Obviously a hyperslide was the sort of navigational challenge she enjoyed, whereas the current routine tasks of powering up and maintaining course speeds until jump time could be left to the Speedlite’s computer system.
Myrina looked around for Vand, the only crew member who hadn’t voiced an opinion, yet. He’d moved close enough to listen, but maintained his distance. He caught her staring at him, though, and winked.
“You want my opinion, Doctor?” he said, then gave it before she could say yes. Or no. “The Captain makes a regular habit of risking his ship by pulling crazy stunts like this.”
Risk the ship? Didn’t that mean risking the crew? Wonderful. She didn’t much like being on an FTL flight into deep space to begin with and now she discovered she’d hooked up with an extreme sports enthusiast.
Gently but firmly, Myrina pulled away from Judan’s half-embrace to face him. “And this enormous risk to the ship is a good thing because?”
He quirked a smile and shook his head. “Calculated risk. And a few hyperslides will cut our travel time to Hitani. Instead of five days we’ll be there in three.”
Which meant she had far less time to conjure a miracle to save the Outposters.
“Then I’d better get back to work,” she said.
She wanted to reassure him she would find the answer, but kept her mouth shut. This time she didn’t plan on making any rash promises until she had irrefutable proof.
* * * * *
Back at the lab, Myrina slid a powerpack into a slot, flipped open the lid and pressed a button to activate the GCS.
That’s right, baby, come on.
A couple of blips and bleeps later the screen blinked. She typed in a few keystrokes and the GCS program ran its start up routine. Myrina sighed. The Genetic Code Simulator allowed her to create and test hypothetical scenarios using a variety of variables such as environmental conditions, ecosystem impact and genetic responses. However, despite its ability to produce results in half the time of other testing options, she often wished the inventor had installed an instant activation code on the damn machine.
“All these sound effects give me too much time to think,” she muttered to herself. “And I don’t want to think about the hazards of hyperslides. I don’t care about hyperslides. They aren’t my problem. Unless of course we don’t come out of one and crash into an asteroid. Or something bigger.
“But I’m not allowed negative thoughts, so erase that last remark. Besides, seven simultaneous simulations sounds pretty impressive, doesn’t it? Of course it does. Sounds downright safe to me. And Judan knows more about this sort of thing than I do. Of course the fact that I’ve discovered he’s a closet space jockey in no way influences my confidence in the man.”
A firm set of hands encircled her waist. “I am glad to hear that, though I would like to know what a ‘closet space jockey’ is so I know whether or not you gave me a compliment.”
Chapter Six
Myrina jumped as a now familiar lock of hair draped itself over her shoulder. “Hey!”
Wasn’t he supposed to be on the bridge overseeing this “calculated risk” of a hyperslide? He sure as heck wasn’t supposed to be invading her space right now.
“Hands off and hair out of my face,” she said. “I’m working.” She shoved the strand of hair away and made a half-twist to look behind her. “And I was not giving you a compliment.”
Judan instantly released her and backed away, a puzzled look on his face. Flustered, Myrina turned back to the computer and stared at the GCS menu. The simulation would take some time to run, so it wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford an interruption. Her hands shook so badly she had trouble selecting the correct option to set up the test scenario. In desperation she clasped them around the framed screen of the computer case. That helped, some, but did nothing to still her thudding heart.
Crap. This is what comes of getting involved with a client. He’s now been introduced to the obsessive, working bitch side of my personality. Make that neurotic, obsessive working bitch.
Though she tried to focus, the data blinking past her on the screen blurred. Aside from the fact that she did become so totally absorbed in her job she frequently forgot the world around her, her self-talk therapy had been strictly intended for her ears only.
“Sorry,” she said with a halfhearted wave of her hand. She didn’t want to face him yet, until she’d collected herself. At least her voice sounded normal. “I was being unfair. I’m just feeling a little…”
“Anxious.”
She started to shrug then gave a slight nod instead. She was feeling tense. While she wasn’t thrilled about hyperslides, she did understand, even applaud, Judan’s determination to reach the Outposters as quickly as possible. But, yes, that increased her anxiety levels, though not enough to throw her. Thanks to her psychiatrist, self-talk therapy was an automatic habit that allowed her to keep her restless energy focused until the task absorbed her.
“I sent a communiqué to Hitani informing the Outposters about our new estimated time of arrival,” he said. “I also sent instructions that all but the ten Outposters on life support should stop their meds immediately.”
“Oh,” she said. Given his dedication to the mission she wasn’t too surprised he’d made a decision so quickly. “Well, thanks.”
“I didn’t do it for you, Myrina. I did it to save them. I’m a pilot turned politician. You’re the scientist, the technical expert on the mission. I need you.”
She blinked. I need you. I want you. Heady words. Words she’d dreamed of hearing. Imagined hearing a thousand times in a thousand different ways. Yet this was one scenario she’d never, ever anticipated. Whatever daydreams she’d spun for herself, not a one had come packaged as a tall, green-skinned sexy stranger.
“A pilot, eh?” She looked over her shoulder. For some reason she’d expected him to be on the other side of the room, not less than a foot away from her. Where were those warning tingles when she needed them?
“Years ago I was an Outposter,” he told her. “I became, as you call it, a ‘space jockey’. My mother didn’t mean it as a compliment either when she had to explain that her son was a pilot.”
Myrina puffed out a breath and licked her lips. “What did she want you to be?”
His stark features shifted until he appeared almost amused. He shrugged. “She always maintained I was so…headstrong, I should be a member of the Ktua.”
She grinned at his confession. Damn, but the man looked good, even when he was admitting to his daredevil, bad-boy streak. He… She quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “What did you do to your hair?”
He shrugged and turned his head to give her a better view. Like every other member of the crew except Chiara who wore that awful wig, he’d braided his hair down his back. Two of the b
eaded strands were wrapped around the bulk of hair at his nape. He’d worked fast because she hadn’t been turned away from him for long, which meant he’d worked from experience. Yet, ever since their first meeting he’d worn it loose.
A slow, sexy smile played across his lips. “I did as you asked. I’m keeping my hair out of your face, and mine, too.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. Who was he kidding, anyway? The man had followed his own agenda since the second they’d met, yet suddenly he was complacently following her orders. She crossed her arms, certain he was up to something, but his face had that look of stubborn sincerity she was coming to recognize all too well. She saw the exact same look in the mirror every time she gazed in one, too.
“Sit,” she commanded, deciding she’d go for broke and throw her weight around a little.
He took two steps back and sat on a stool. Instantly, her suspicions grew. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and quirked his eyebrows. Watching her again. Definitely challenging her. That was the only word for it. His eyes twinkled. Teasing her. Flirting with her?
He wants to play? After I told him off? It didn’t make sense, but then, not much about this relationship did.
“Do I look better now?” he asked.
She pretended to seriously assess him again. He didn’t so much as blink under her scrutiny. Just sat there patiently letting her look him over. Like he didn’t mind in the least if she took her time. That was new, too. He hadn’t let her take her time last night.
Was it only just last night? Their entire relationship seemed to have moved at FTL speeds until a moment ago. But if he was going to give her this moment, she’d take it.
He sat on the stool with ease, one booted foot planted firmly on the floor, the other propped on the metal rim that circled the chair legs. Even though he came across as a no-nonsense kind of guy, the relaxed look suited him somehow. Or could it be that he was now comfortable with her.
Love Partner Page 9