Ariston_Star Guardians

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  “Why don’t we see if we can wrestle this panel back to the ship, get it installed, and go inside?” he said in his most professional tone.

  Mick pushed herself to her feet, and his arm dropped away.

  “Let’s do it,” she said.

  A howl sounded in the distance, and the hairs on Ariston’s arms stood up. It sounded like a wild svenkar, but he knew there were no large predators on the planet. Maybe it was just the wind.

  Or maybe whatever had been affecting the others was now starting to affect him. Not a comforting thought.

  11

  Mick eyed her bunk with longing. She was tempted to fall into it now that she and Ariston had finished securing the panels and returned to the ship, each careful not to look at the other in the decon shower. But Dev was still in sickbay, talking to Woodruff and Safin. Mick wanted to check on her, and find a place for Ariston to rest too. She’d left him standing naked and dripping in the corridor, his underwear and shirt once again draped artistically over his crotch while his armor dried in the airlock.

  Outside, the storm still raged, and night still hung thickly around the ruins. She hoped Safin could update her on when he thought the storm would break. Would that shuttle come down at first daylight so they could ambush it? Or would it wait until the clouds cleared?

  In the time she’d been drying off and putting on clean clothes, Ariston had moved out of the corridor. She followed the drips on the dark gray deck matting to the dining area. The lights were dimmed, and he sat in a corner, his back to the bulkhead, a couple of packaged ration bars, or something similar, next to him. His eyes were closed, but he opened them as soon as she poked her head in from the corridor.

  Resting seemed like as good an idea as any. They had finished the repairs they could, confirming that the ship wouldn’t lift off again without that converter, and they had several hours until dawn.

  “I can find you a bunk,” Mick offered, though it would either have to be the one that folded down from the bulkhead in her cabin or… Dr. Garcia’s. The previous owner of the ship hadn’t installed bunks in the detention cells. She didn’t think Ariston would be amused by being offered one of those, regardless.

  “This is fine. I doubt anyone wants to share with me.” He spread a hand toward his bare legs. His damp shirt lay draped across his lap and one of his arms, a very scanty blanket. His naked butt pressed into the deck. That textured flooring couldn’t feel very good on naked flesh.

  “True, but not because there’s anything wrong with your legs,” she said, though she knew his gesture had been intended to encompass himself as a whole.

  “No? You like them?”

  “Oh, they’re quite fetching. If you came to Earth, I’m positive we could get you a sock modeling gig.”

  She liked it when his humor came out. She knew how to respond to humor. Outside, when he’d spoken of his past and of feeling lost since his wife died, she’d been less certain what to say. In truth, it had startled her to hear someone speaking of things she’d so often felt, and to learn that he’d left the military after a horrific battle, a horrific loss. Her own experience hadn’t involved losing a lover or soulmate, but it had disturbed her to the core, and she’d never stopped questioning whether she could have done something that day to change the outcome, whether she could have saved lives if she had reacted more quickly.

  It seemed strange that some weird guy who’d appeared out of nowhere as an enemy could have so much in common with her. Or maybe it was just that the one thing they had in common was huge.

  “Sock model? There’s such a profession on Gaia?” Ariston asked.

  “Oh yes,” Mick said, pushing away darker thoughts. “It’s important to have all manner of models. How would we know what clothing to buy if sexy people didn’t wear it and show us how wonderful it can look? On appropriately beautiful people, that is. You could model underwear too. Any clothing you can think of. And jewelry.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Men on Gaia wear jewelry?”

  “Not all of them, but some wear stuff on their neck and wrists. Eyebrows. Nipples. Penises.”

  “Penis jewelry?”

  “I’ve only seen that once, admittedly. Someone shared a picture with me of a guy with a dragon… I forget what they’re called. Not a cock ring. Those actually have a purpose, I understand. This was more decorative and covered more real estate. It definitely would have had to come off for sex.”

  He was staring at her, and she blushed, wondering what had prompted her to wander down this lane. It might have something to do with the fact that ninety-seven percent of his bare, naked body was on display for her.

  “I had no idea such things existed,” Ariston said.

  “Truly? That’s surprising. I have a hard time believing penis jewelry is unique to Earth.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s not. I’m just not that… well, I was a bit of an academic when I met Zya. I wasn’t super experienced or galactic when it came to sexual variety or adventuresome partners. You may not believe this, but I was teased by women regularly in school.”

  She eyed his muscular arms and legs. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”

  “Zya was the one who convinced me that I should take exercise more seriously instead of doing the bare minimum to pass the military fitness tests. She also saw that I was fairly athletic, despite my complete disinterest in sports. I have a sister who plays professional squall ball, and my mother was an Olympic swimmer, so you could say that disinterest made me the odd one in the family. Anyway, Zya insisted I learn to fight. A mixture of fulfilling my gods-given talent—those were her words—and being able to protect myself. As if engineering was in danger of being overrun by Zi’i on a daily basis. Have you met the Zi’i?”

  “Just one. He said I smelled like ham. At least that was how my ear chip translated it. Something about smoked and cured meat. I left the bar quickly.” Mick tilted her head, still considering his story. He didn’t seem to be lying, not the way he had the day before, but it was hard to believe he hadn’t always been the gods’ gift to mankind in the physique and combat department. “How did she convince you to take fitness and fighting more seriously?”

  “She said she’d never sleep with a scrawny geek who couldn’t beat her in a wrestling match.”

  “Ah, sexual motivation.”

  “It’s extremely effective on men. She made me her special project, and we sparred all the time. She liked it when I showed progress. I liked an excuse to try to pin her to the deck, and… well, sparring wasn’t all we did.” He shrugged, as if with indifference.

  Mick was sure he felt anything but. She wasn’t sure if he was sharing memories of his wife because she’d encouraged it by asking him questions about her, or if he wanted to let her know that he wasn’t ready for another relationship. Outside, he’d been quick to point out that he hadn’t been celibate for the last four years. But Mick had a feeling he’d waited a long time and that sexual encounters had been infrequent. Underneath all that armor, he seemed a sensitive man who wouldn’t want to betray someone, even someone who’d passed on.

  Ariston turned his head away and yawned heroically.

  Mick caught herself doing the same. She held up a finger toward him, not that he looked like he was going to sprint off at any second, and fetched her pillow and blanket from her cabin. She would find others for herself once she checked in on Dev.

  “Here you go.” Mick tossed the items to him. “You might find sleeping on the deck more comfortable with more than three percent of your body covered up.”

  “You calculated the percentage of surface area I have on display?”

  Surface area? She snorted. There truly was a geek under all those muscles.

  “Calculating a man’s surface area is an important skill to master.”

  A soft laugh floated through the open sickbay door and down the corridor. Dev’s. It sounded like she had recovered from her ordeal. Good.

  Ariston pulled the blanket across his body, th
en laid his underwear and undershirt out next to him to dry. Even though he’d been naked the entire time Mick had spoken to him, something about knowing he wore nothing under that blanket stirred her imagination. She thought about sitting down next to him and asking if he would share it. For that matter, she could offer to share her bunk with him.

  But either action would be inadvisable. She still had no idea who he was. Just because he’d been in the space fleet didn’t mean he was anything reputable now.

  Maybe he was thinking the same thing about her. Once a Marine with a noble mission and a noble purpose, and now another scrappy bounty hunter. Sort of. She’d only had time to capture two criminals so far. Truly, she didn’t know what she was anymore.

  “Get some rest,” she said, turning away from him.

  “Mick?” he asked softly.

  She paused, a tendril of anticipation swirling through her body. Was he going to invite her to join him? Would she say no if he did?

  Just because that was the advisable thing to do didn’t mean she would do it. How often did she get a chance to have sex with someone so hot? It wouldn’t have to be about feelings and emotions—she wouldn’t get attached to someone she couldn’t trust. Just pleasure.

  “Earlier, when I was out with your team, I spotted a man and woman from the salvage crew,” Ariston said. “They were pulling up artifacts—skulls, actually—and had plans to sell them. I got video footage of it. If the storm settles and I get the chance, I’d like to capture them tomorrow. Since yours is the only ship I’m somewhat certain I can get a ride out of this system in, assuming we get that converter, do you mind if I bring them along? I noticed your detainment cells are fully operational.”

  “Er?” She paused, trying to get her mind back on the right track. First off, she’d thought that soft query of her name would lead to an invitation to snuggle—or more. Second, why would he care if someone was hunting for artifacts? “Capture them? Because of the skulls or because they were part of the group that fired on that ship?” Mick waved in the general direction of the wreck.

  “Both are crimes. Captain Eryx, the commander of the salvage ship, has certainly committed the more grievous ones, but looting protected ruins isn’t acceptable, either.”

  “Both are crimes?” She knew she was parroting his words, but understanding was coming slowly. She knew archaeological sites were often protected back on Earth and that removing artifacts was a crime, but she hadn’t expected that to be the case on some desolate planet in the middle of nowhere. Did someone own the planet? She couldn’t imagine that Umbra hadn’t done some research and looked into that before making plans to colonize it.

  “Mustikos is claimed by the Confederation, due to the ruins, the last vestiges of humanity on this planet.” Ariston met her eyes. “There are only two planets like this, where humans were seeded by the Wanderers but later died out. The archons want to protect our people’s history, so only government-approved scientific teams are allowed to visit either planet.”

  “Huh,” Mick said, though her heart beat more rapidly than usual in her chest.

  Essentially, he’d just told her that she and her ship were here illegally. Damn it, why hadn’t she thought to do more research on the planet before accepting this assignment?

  Because the pay had been good, and she’d assumed Umbra had researched it. That was why. But mostly, the pay had been good. She’d been so delighted by the idea of earning enough to pay off her ship and live completely freely out here that she hadn’t questioned something she should have.

  “If you were to help with the capture and transportation of proven criminals,” Ariston said, “perhaps your trespassing here would be looked upon as less criminal than it is. Especially if you haven’t taken anything more than soil samples yet.”

  “We didn’t come here to take anything,” Mick snapped, feeling like her back was against the wall. “And we’re not criminals. We’re not from Dethocoles or in the Confederation. We’re not under their jurisdiction.”

  That sounded reasonable to her ear, but was it true? She’d been out in the galaxy longer than the rest of her ship’s passengers, but that didn’t make her an expert.

  Ariston’s steady dark eyes remained upon her, his expression hard to read in the dim lighting, but she no longer believed he had cuddling in mind. The notion had jetted from her mind, as well.

  “Get some rest,” she repeated her earlier order. “I need to check on Dev.”

  Trying not to feel like she was fleeing the scene of a crime, Mick strode into the corridor—and away from those eyes.

  12

  Mick stepped into sickbay, closing the hatch behind her. She didn’t want Ariston to overhear the conversation she planned to have.

  Dev sat cross-legged on the sole exam table/bunk in the ship’s compact sickbay, not resting and recovering, as one might expect, but creating slides and peering into a microscope. Woodruff sat in a chair beside the bed, his eyes closed, his head propped on his arm, and his breathing heavy and even. He wore a shoulder holster with his handgun in it.

  Safin had left sickbay at some point. Hopefully, he was back up on the bridge, monitoring the storm—and the comm. Mick supposed she should relieve him, even though her bunk called to her. She didn’t want to miss any important messages between the men on the planet and the ship in orbit.

  She looked for a place to sit, but there weren’t any other chairs, unless she wanted to hop up on the narrow counter in the back. She opted for leaning against the wall and waving under the microscope to get Dev’s attention.

  “Dev, did you know this planet was protected by the Confederation?”

  Dev blinked and looked up. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  “Ha ha. I asked that earlier, and you already told me. You also look decidedly un-debilitated.” Mick waved at the work spread out around Dev.

  “I do have a headache.”

  “Join the club,” Mick said. “The planet? Did you know?”

  Dev shook her head slowly and looked at Woodruff, but his eyes remained closed. “I was told—I believe all of us were—that this planet was uninhabited, unclaimed, and haunted. We assumed—or at least I did—that the haunted aspect, and the fact that it hasn’t truly recovered from the mega volcanic eruptions it had in the past, were why nobody wanted it. Also, it sounds like there are all manner of habitable planets in the galaxy. This one is convenient to Earth, hence why it was chosen, but it’s not convenient to Dethocoles or the home systems of any sentient alien species, as far as we know. Or were told.” Dev frowned. “Who told you it’s protected?”

  “Ariston.”

  “That’s hardly a reliable resource,” came a tired grumble from Woodruff, his eyes open now. “I bet he’s trying to work some angle.”

  “Yeah, the angle is that I think he’s some law enforcer. He was talking about arresting some of the people out there. Okay, capturing them, he said, but he hinted that if we helped, our crimes might be overlooked.”

  “We haven’t committed any crimes,” Woodruff said. “We’re a research team for God’s sake.”

  “That’s what I said, but—”

  Woodruff’s head spun toward the corner, his hand twitching toward his gun.

  Mick looked toward the corner. “There’s nothing there.”

  “Shit.” Woodruff rubbed his eyes. “I was hoping that would stop if I got some sleep.”

  “You only slept for seven minutes,” Dev said. “I think the body needs longer than that to repair itself.”

  “Are repairs what need to be done?” Mick asked, leaning her back against the bulkhead. “Or do we just need to get off this planet?”

  Hail beat against the exterior of the Viper, as if to remind her that there were numerous reasons why they wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Mick now felt uneasy about being trapped in the ship with Ariston.

  “I don’t know,” Dev said. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’m the only one who’s had a seizure, but we’ve all been ha
ving weird symptoms, right?”

  Mick nodded. She liked the idea that these might be symptoms, symptoms of something that could be explained by science. If that was true, then maybe they could come up with a shot to fix things. Hauntings were tougher to fix with shots.

  “Not all,” Woodruff said. “Sven said all he’s had is a bit of a headache.”

  “Safin hasn’t left the ship, right?” Mick asked. “For that matter, neither have you, Woodruff.”

  “I was out there briefly, mostly lurking in the airlock and shooting ineffectively at the guys trying to force their way in. Also, I can tell you’re former military with your thing for last names. You can call me Cecil if you want.”

  “I don’t think you should encourage people to do that.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the name Cecil,” Dev said, smiling shyly at him.

  She must have decided that Ariston, however appealing his body, didn’t hold the allure of her red-headed civil engineer.

  “It was my grandfather’s name.” Woodruff shrugged, then turned toward Mick. “I don’t think I experienced any symptoms until after I was out there. Dr. Lee mentioned a headache too. I’m not sure if he’s been seeing things.”

  “At least you guys aren’t seeing huge black evil spirits coming to possess your body. Like demons out of some Sri Lankan legend.” Dev looked at Mick curiously. “What are you seeing?”

  “Mostly stuff out of the corner of my eye,” Mick said. “But when I turn to focus on it, there’s nothing there. I keep thinking someone is going to jump out and attack.”

  She opened one of the cabinets under the counter and pulled out a medical scanner. Her training on the thing was rudimentary, but the sickbay had an AI that could advise on numerous treatments. She also flicked open the tablet computer, a larger version of Ariston’s logostec, so she could take some notes.

  She was probably the last person who could solve a medical mystery, but the idea of ambushing a shuttle, flying to another ship to forcefully acquire a part, and flying back down to the planet, and then taking off again, all while experiencing hallucinations, did not sound appealing. Or like a recipe for success.