He did not want to think about this.
He didn’t want to think about anything.
At least she was blessedly silent while they walked.
Finally, they reached the hangar bay. He keyed in a sequence to open the door, and it slid aside for them.
Inside, it was dark.
“You think there will be a ship here?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. He just found the lighting controls and turned them on.
The lights came up all at once, illuminating everything brightly.
There was a ship, all right. An Astra 500, the kind of thing that families used to buy to go on vacation. It was pretty beat up. He was surprised that this hunk of junk was what Atticus had used to get here in the first place, but in the wake of the war, ships were hard to come by, and whatever could be pieced together or salvaged got used. He wandered over to the thing and brushed his hand over the side to read its name.
The Getaway.
Well, that was appropriate, wasn’t it? He smirked.
“We can leave,” said Eve, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “We can get out of here before the vidya come.”
“Maybe so,” said Gunner. He opened the side door, which slid open on a track, and climbed inside the ship. It was tiny inside, but it was designed for a family of three or four. There was a big square room that served as both kitchen and living space, with a couch that converted into a bed and bunks in a loft above the small cockpit. There would be adequate space for two people in there, even though they wouldn’t have any place to escape each other.
He climbed into what could be called the cockpit and switched on the overhead light.
Which didn’t come on.
Eh, that was a bad sign.
Maybe it just needed fuel to charge it up, or maybe something worse was wrong with it.
He climbed back out of the cockpit, running into Eve, who was in the tiny kitchen/living area space. “What?” she said.
“Checking something, princess,” he said, pushing past her. As he did, he noticed that she’d unzipped the front of her jumpsuit, probably because of the heat, but he peered down and caught another eyeful of the swell of her breasts. The scent of her sweat was musky.
He pushed past her, not letting on that it had affected him.
Hopping out of the ship, he went around to the side to open the fuel tank and check the levels. Well, there was fuel in here, all right. That wasn’t the problem. “Hey, Eve?”
“Yeah?” She had poked her head out of the door. “It’s even hotter in there than out here.”
“Can you go into the cockpit and try the Kiler transpin for me?”
“Um… what does the Kiler transpin look like?”
He groaned. “Never mind.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be so useless. Seriously, describe it to me. I’ll find it.”
“Uh…” He considered. “Okay, so it’s the panel in the middle, and there should be a lever underneath, and you prime that—move it back and forth a few times—and then press the button over the lever. It’s usually green, but sometimes blue.”
She nodded. “Okay.” She disappeared into the ship.
He waited.
Suddenly, the ship gave a shuddering sound, as if the engines were trying to power up, but then they faded out.
“Sorry!” came Eve’s voice. “I tried to do what you said, but—”
“No, you’re fine, princess,” he called back. “It’s the advent coupling. Damn it.” He rubbed his chin.
She appeared in the door to the ship again. “What?”
“The ship’s broken,” he said, deciding she wouldn’t understand a more technical explanation.
“Oh, no,” she said. “So, we are stuck here?”
“Well, maybe not,” he said. “I might be able to charge it back up, but it’d take a while. Almost a day.”
She brightened. “Well, that’s not that bad.”
“Could be if the Xerkabah send in the cavalry before that.”
Her face fell.
“We’ll work on it,” he said. “In the meantime, I think we should take the door to the hangar bay to repair the broken one. It looks pretty sturdy.”
* * *
They were busy for quite some time after that. There were a lot of things to do. First Gunner found the control room for the base and turned on the coolant system in the hangar bay. Then, he and Eve worked on getting the advent coupling out of the ship and plugged it into the wall to charge. It was a little beaten up, but Gunner was fairly sure it would work for a while anyway.
After that, they worked on taking the hangar bay door off, which sort of ruined the idea of having the coolant system run in there since all the cool air was leaking out the door. Gunner went and turned it off again.
They lugged the door through the hallways back to Atticus’s den and managed to get it up over the ruin of the other door, securing it in place.
During all of this, there was a lot less discussion of anger or visions or naked chests, and that made Gunner a lot happier. He also had to admit that Eve was pretty helpful. She was good at taking direction, not because she was obedient necessarily, but because she was good at communicating the things that she didn’t understand about what he needed from her. Not everyone could do that. Lots of times when working with a crew member, Gunner would have to go back and forth several times with the person, who would claim to completely understand the task at hand and then screw it up royally.
By the time they were finished, they were sweaty, dirty, and starving.
There were showers off their rooms, and so they got clean before meeting in the big kitchen off the mess hall. Gunner went through the refrigeration unit to find the fresh stuff that Atticus had most recently harvested. It was actually a bit of a shame, because if the Xerkabah hadn’t known where they were, they could have survived here for quite some time. It was a nice setup, and all their needs would have been met. Not that he wanted to be holed up here with only Eve for company or anything.
They ate the vegetables raw accompanied by ration bars for protein.
Afterward, he suggested they relax separately before getting some sleep. They’d be able to see if the coupling had charged all right when they woke up.
But Eve reminded him that he’d promised her a gun, so he raided the weapon’s stash again to find her a plaspistol.
“Can’t I shoot that other gun?” she said. “The one you used against the vidya?”
“The Thun-7?” he said. “Let’s work up to something like that, okay?” Which reminded him. He got the battery out of the Thunder-7 and put it on the charger, so that the next time he used it, it wouldn’t die after two blasts.
“It just looked like it was really good against the vidya,” said Eve.
“It kicks,” he said. “It’d probably knock you down.”
She squared her shoulders. “I’m stronger than I look.”
He remembered her lowering herself down the ladder in the Swallow. She was strong. He considered. “Okay, but you should probably get some practice in with it. The target range or something.”
“Okay,” she said. “That sounds good. Let’s go.”
“Well, right now, it doesn’t have a charge,” he said, pointing at the battery. “But maybe tomorrow?”
He handed her the plaspistol instead, which was a Bernil I4. It was actually a bit on the larger side for a pistol. Had room for two cartridges, too. It wasn’t the perfect weapon against a vidya, but it would do. If Eve did it right, she could take a vidya down with one of these.
She turned the gun over in her hands. “Could I practice with this one at the target range?”
“Yeah, okay.” He gestured with his head. “Come on.”
They started down the hallway.
He paused. “Actually, I should stop and turn the coolant system on for that room.” Last thing they wanted was to sweat their asses off while they were trying to hit targets. They’d do
ne enough sweating for the day. So, he did exactly that, and then he took her to the target range, which was in the center of the base.
It was a big room, because it was set up for an entire squadron to line up and run drills. Gunner looked down the line of shooting stalls where they would have practiced, and he remembered those first days after he’d joined up for the war. He hadn’t been in this base, but the one he’d been in had been set up similarly. He remembered that there had been excitement within him then. He’d felt like he was doing the right thing, stepping up to protect his family and his new wife, Silvi, and he’d had this burning righteous undercurrent that he felt under every action.
Funny thing was, he didn’t remember when that burning had been extinguished. It hadn’t been all at once. Not in one moment, but in many.
Deep down, though, he just wished that he’d succeeded. He wished that he’d actually protected the human race. But the war had ended, and they’d failed. And now, well, here they were.
He punched a few numbers on a panel on the wall, and a holographic target flickered to life at the end of the range. He adjusted it, bringing it closer.
“What are you doing?” said Eve.
“Giving you a starting place.”
She drew her brows together. “You think I’m just crap at everything, don’t you?”
“No,” he said. “What? Too close?”
“Too close,” she said.
He adjusted the target again, moving it further back.
She nodded. “Better.”
“Okay,” he said, “so there are two things you need to check—”
“You told me that already,” she said. “Back on the Xerkabah base, remember?”
Maybe he vaguely remembered that.
She flipped the gun over and showed him that she’d checked the cartridge and the charge. The pistol was on. She brought up the gun, holding it with two hands, one around the handle and one under to steady herself. She closed one eye and surveyed the target.
He waited expectantly.
She lowered the gun, turning to him.
“What?” he said.
“Are you just going to stand there and watch me?”
“There something else I should do?”
“I guess you’re so good at this, you don’t need target practice.”
“Well…” He shrugged.
She sighed. She shook out her shoulders. “Sorry, it’s just…” Her voice was quiet. “It’s not easy to relax when you’re around.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. “Uh, I’m sorry?”
She rolled her eyes. She brought up the pistol and extended her arms. She breathed. Pulled the trigger. Her shot hit the target squarely, right on the bullseye.
“Nice,” he said.
She squeezed the trigger again and again, one shot right after the other, all of them hitting home on the target.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “You don’t seem to need target practice either.”
She looked down at the pistol, weighing it in her hands. “Yeah, it’s not too much different than the guns at home in the Cloister.”
“You do a lot of training there?”
She shrugged. “A bit. Not much else to do, you know? Except sit around and wait for visions.”
“Yeah.” He nodded.
They surveyed each other for a minute, and it was suddenly awkward. He broke the gaze and looked down at his feet. “Well, uh, good, then. I guess…”
She turned back to the target and squeezed off another shot. It hit the far edge of the target. “Damn it,” she muttered. “I’m not relaxed.” She shook out her shoulders again.
“What is it about me that makes it so hard to relax?” he said. “The fact that I’m an ass?”
She turned back to him. “No. Just… everything. You’re all, you know, strong and commanding and you have those shoulders and…” She turned the gun off and looked around for someplace to put it. “I need a holster like yours.” She pointed.
And then they were both looking at his crotch. He shifted on his feet, feeling uncomfortable. “Uh, you know, I don’t mean to be… hard to relax around.”
She looked down at the pistol in her hand. “It’s not really your fault. It’s just that, you know, there’s all this build up.”
“Right,” he said. He held out his hand for the gun. “You want me to take that?”
“No, what if the vidya shows up?” She tightened her grip on it.
He kind of wanted something to do with his hands. He shoved them in his pockets. “Do you, uh, want to practice more?”
“You think I should?”
He shrugged. “It’s maybe not a good idea to waste too much of the cartridge, so…”
“So, okay,” she said. “Then what? We go to bed?”
“Uh…” He looked at his shoes, and he was blushing. Sun and stars, why was this so damned awkward?
“I didn’t mean… not together or anything.”
He raised his gaze. “Maybe we should just have this out and clear the air.”
“Um, okay?” She looked confused.
“The build-up thing?” he said. “You don’t have to feel any way about me, because I’m not going to… you know, with you.”
She scratched the back of her neck. “No?”
“No,” he said. “So, the pressure of all of that, the awkwardness—”
“Well, but that’s actually not good,” she said in a tiny voice. She reached down adn fingered the clasp of her jumpsuit. It was clasped up higher than it had been earlier, but it still made him think of looking at her skin, of the way she smelled. “Because if you keep saying no, then I’m going to have to…” Her voice got lower. “Keep trying, and if we just, you know, got it over with, then it would be done, and we could go back to being normal.”
He shut his eyes. Even though the coolant was pumping air into the room, he was feeling too hot. His clothes seemed incredibly uncomfortable against his skin. “That’s what you want? You don’t even like me.”
“I…” She fiddled with the clasp and pulled it open an inch, revealing a bit of her creamy skin.
“Hey, don’t,” he muttered.
She looked up at him. “I like you,” she breathed.
“You said I was an ass,” he said, and he was whispering too for some reason he didn’t understand.
“Well, but not… always,” she said. She took a deep breath and her chest rose and fell. “You’re…” She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. Her gaze met his, and then she looked at his lips, and then away.
He felt off-kilter, and his clothes felt even more uncomfortable. He needed to stop this, shock her out of whatever game she was playing at. “You don’t want this,” he said. “You don’t like me, and you don’t want me to shove my cock into you.” He’d be crude, and she’d recoil.
But her breath caught, and she took a step closer to him. “Maybe I do,” she said. She set her plaspistol down on the ledge at the front of the shooting stall. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and uttered the words with a shy smile. “I want,” she whispered, “your cock.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Suddenly, he was kissing her.
She put her hands on his shoulders and opened her mouth to him, and it was nice. She was soft and receptive, and he had forgotten about kissing and closeness and… it was very nice.
He propelled her backwards, until their legs ran into the gate of the shooting stall and there they stopped, their mouths still glued together. She gasped against his lips, and he moved them, down to kiss her jaw, to her neck.
His fingers found the clasp to her jumpsuit and opened it. The fabric parted all the way down to below her navel, and there she was again. All of her skin, smooth and white. And her breasts, contained in the white smooth cups of her bust supporter. He wanted them uncovered too.
And he thought, What am I doing?
And then he shoved the thought away, be
cause it was too late now, too late to back off.
She gasped again. She fumbled at his shirt, trying to grasp it and pull it over his head.
And he reached back behind his head, gathered a handful of his shirt and pulled it off with one hand.
Her gaze traveled over his bare skin. And then her fingers were on him, feather soft, smoothing over his shoulders and over the scar on his side there, puckered white flesh under his rib cage. She touched it.
He got goosebumps.
She bit down on her lip and looked up at him, and there was something about her wide-eyed guileless expression coupled with her state of undress and how her hair was mussed. He was suddenly rock hard and all thoughts fled from his head. There was only sensation and want, and it was red, and he was pushing the jumpsuit over her shoulders, and then pushing it completely off. It pooled on the ground, and she stepped out of it. She was only in her undergarments now, the supporter and some scrap of a thing between her legs. He shoved his fingers under the band of her supporter, feeling the soft give of her flesh there.
She panted.
His mouth was on hers again. He moved his hands, smoothing down over the dip of her waist to her hips. He lifted her, setting her on the ledge, settling between her thighs.
She wrapped her legs around him.
His fingers back inside her supporter. She writhed.
He wanted the stupid thing off, so he moved his hands, searching for the clasp. Sometimes, it was in the front, but not this time. He reached around to find it. He had never been good with these things. He worked at it for several moments. It didn’t come free.
She reached back and helped him. Her supporter fell away.
There. That was what he wanted. He gazed at her bare breasts, and then ran his thumbs over both of her nipples. They stood up at attention like little soldiers.
She shut her eyes, biting her lip again and letting out a series of breathy sighs.
Good. He kissed her again.
She put her hands on his belt, undid it.
“Careful,” he said, helping her. “That falls and the gun goes off and we’re—”
“Sorry,” she breathed.
He set the belt down next to the pistol she’d been using. And then he came back to her. He kissed her again, and put his hands to the clasp of his pants. And then a thought flew into his brain, something obscene. She’d spent her whole stupid life in the Cloister and…
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