Amorous Overnight

by Robin L. Rotham

  “I’d rather be in Hawaii.”

  “There are lots of single men there,” Monica said with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. When Shelley scowled, she immediately looked contrite. “Sorry, that was insensitive, wasn’t it?”

  “Slightly.” Shelley sniffed. “And even if I were in the market for another man, Garathan’s the last place I’d shop. I’ve already got chronic neck pain from looking up at everyone, and unlike you and Jasmine, I don’t have dormant genes waiting to turn me into a seven-foot alien overnight.”

  “I’m only six-three,” Monica grumbled. “It’s no fun being the shortest.”

  “Welcome to my world. You’re still more than a foot taller than me.”

  “Come on, you know you’ll miss me if you go back to Earth.”

  “Well I’m going to miss you sooner or later because I’m definitely going back to Earth.” She sighed. “Although a tour of duty on Garathan would give the media frenzy more time to die down.”

  “See? After two years, you’d be such old news that you wouldn’t even have to go into a relocation program.”

  “That would be great.” She really wasn’t looking forward to being totally alone and unable to contact her family for years. And God knew the money was amazing—she could pay off her debt to the Alliance and still have enough left to live on for a few years, if she had to. By that time the twins would be almost school-aged.

  “Then again, maybe you’d decide you love Garathan so much you’d want to stay forever.”

  “Yeah, right. And maybe it’d be like the Hotel California and I could check out anytime I liked but I could never leave.” She’d thought more than a few times about applying for one of the nurse openings, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she did, she’d never see Earth again.

  Monica cocked her head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Shelley gasped. “You’ve never heard ‘Hotel California’?”

  “Of course I’ve heard ‘Hotel California.’”

  “Then why did you ask what the hell I was talking about?”

  “I was talking to…” Monica shook her head impatiently. “Never mind. Empran’s just being a smart-ass again.”

  She reached for one of the Garathani syringes that collected blood through the skin without piercing it. “Let me get some blood and we’ll do a workup just to make sure nothing’s out of whack.”

  Shelley rolled up her sleeve.

  “As far as the Hotel California thing, that would be counterproductive, wouldn’t it?” Monica held the syringe against her plump inner arm and pressed. “The Garathani want to attract more females, not scare them off by holding them captive. They need women to want to go there.”

  Shelley didn’t reply as she watched the syringe fill with her blood as if by magic. Dammit, she didn’t want to go to an unknown planet in a distant star system. She wanted to go home, where everything was familiar, if no longer as safe as it used to be. Her yearning to be off this ship was so acute it sometimes left her breathless and frantic. She felt like a secondary character in a disaster movie—the one who can’t take the pressure and somehow manages to kill herself right before help arrives. It was a good thing she had no idea how to operate the air locks.

  Monica pulled away and plugged the syringe into a panel. Seconds later, a holographic readout popped up in front of her face. “Empran, are you brain-dead? How many times have I told you I need my readouts in English?”

  “I can read English and Garathani, Monica, which I believe makes your brain more dead than mine,” Empran returned sweetly.

  “Bite me, you infantile pile of scabby circuitry,” Monica told her, clearly fighting back a smile, “and put it up in English.”

  “As you wish.”

  The readout scrambled and reappeared. “Well, you’re slightly anemic,” Monica pronounced, “and your electrolyte levels are a little low. Do you drink the hydration fluid when you work out?”

  “Hell no,” she said with a shudder. “It tastes like semen.”

  Monica snickered. “That’s what Jasmine said.”

  “You haven’t tried it?”

  “Hell no—you know exercise and I parted ways when PE became an elective. But you need to drink it, no matter how nasty it is. Are you still taking your prenatal vitamins?”

  “I ran out.”

  “We’ll fix that.”

  “Shelley,” Empran said, “Director Thorpe is preparing to flare aboard the ship. Please proceed to Tactical One to meet with him.”

  Shelley started. “Alien Affairs Director Thorpe?”

  “Yes, he’s director of the Alien Affairs Department.”

  “Well shit,” Monica said with a scowl. “That means you’re going home, doesn’t it?”

  “God, I hope so. Are we done?”

  “For now. But seriously, I want you to relax and get plenty of rest, whether you’re here or on Earth, okay? Once your hormones level out, you’ll feel a lot better.”

  “Got it.” Taking a deep breath, she slid off the table. “Okay, I’m off. Wish me luck.”

  Chapter Five

  “I can’t believe they’re putting you in freaking Asscrack, Alaska,” Monica groused at breakfast the next morning. Both her mates had already eaten and gone—so had Shauss, thank God. He still unnerved the hell out of Shelley—but Hastion, Tiber and Jasmine were still at the table.

  “Mooseback,” Shelley corrected automatically as she tried to spoon rice cereal and pureed peaches into her son. It was a thankless task this morning. Wyatt and Kallie were both wound up—picking up on her turbulent mood, no doubt. Hastion seemed a little edgy and distracted too, which didn’t help.

  Monica snorted. “Whatever. You’ll still be living in a freaking icebox, where the sun never shines in the winter and it never gets dark in the summer. And you know what they say about the men there.” When Shelley gave her a blank look, she grinned. “The odds are good but the goods are odd.”

  “Well I couldn’t care less about the goods or the odds,” Shelley said with a grimace. “You know I’m not in the market for a man yet.” Especially one who would trap her forever in the wilds of Alaska.

  Jesus. She’d told the Alien Affairs agents that she preferred cold weather, but Alaska? Where would they have put her if she’d said she preferred it hot—hell?

  She’d been so upset after her meeting with Director Thorpe yesterday she couldn’t even bring herself to talk about it at first. Pleading a headache, she’d skipped lunch and stayed in her room, hiding her head under her pillow. When Monica stopped by in the afternoon to check on her, Shelley told Empran to say she was sleeping and had asked not to be disturbed.

  By dinnertime she’d pulled herself together enough to show up at the dining room and lay out the bare facts of the placement without crying. Barely. For once she’d been almost sorry the minister wasn’t there. Maybe if she asked nicely, he’d throw his weight around a little, help convince Alien Affairs to keep looking for something better.

  “Did you know Alaska contains ninety-seven percent of the United States’ brown bear population?” Hastion asked with a frown before taking a sip of his orange juice.

  Shelley turned to stare at him over Wyatt’s head. She hadn’t even thought about bears. “Thanks for the factoid,” she said faintly. “I’ll add bear repellent to my shopping list.”

  “Actually, moose are known to have attacked more Terrans than bears and wolves combined,” Tiber pointed out.

  Great. Did they make moose repellent?

  “You two stop scaring Shelley,” Jasmine chided, still doing her best to get more cereal into Kallie.

  “It’s only the truth.” Hastion ripped apart some kind of little Garathani roast beast with unnecessary violence. “Alaska is very isolated and she’s hardly in any condition to cope with the rigors of living in such an untamed region.”

  Shelley’s cheeks heated. So nice he’d noticed how out of shape she was.

  Jasmine rolled her eyes. “This
is the twenty-first century, Hastion, not the nineteenth. She won’t have to journey to the frontier in a covered wagon, or build a log cabin with her bare hands, or fend off wild animals with a bow and arrow. I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.”

  “And you know this because you’ve spent…how much time there?” Hastion asked pointedly before stuffing a bite of dark meat into his mouth with his fingers.

  “None,” she muttered.

  “I rest my case.” Still chewing, he focused his laser stare on Shelley. “But truly, Shelley, why are you even considering this? I thought you’d grown comfortable with us.”

  “We’re still short two nurses,” Tiber chimed in. “We could certainly use your help.”

  Shelley shifted uneasily. She had grown comfortable with them. Too comfortable.

  In fact, right this moment, when she should be bursting with excitement at the prospect of getting off this godforsaken ship, she was ready to burst into tears instead. All she could think about was how hard it was going to be living in Little Hut on the Tundra, with no husband or family or friends, at least until the media circus died down. Even worse, the money was absolute shit. If she got stuck in Mooseback, she’d never be able to pay back what she owed the Alliance.

  “I know,” she said in a wobbly voice. “And I am more comfortable, with all of you, but I really need to go home.”

  “Who are you trying to convince—us or yourself?” Monica asked.

  “Dearest daughter, Ms. Bonham has enough to handle without your harassing her.”

  At Minister Cecine’s entrance, Hastion’s face went blank with an abruptness that was almost comical.

  “Maybe so,” Monica said, grinning at her father, “but I’ve sworn an oath to harass all my friends when they need it.”

  Shelley held her breath as the minister brushed by in the narrow space behind her chair. He laid a long, slender hand briefly on Wyatt’s little blond head as he passed and Wyatt squealed, lifting his arms in a demand to be picked up.

  Ignoring the demand, Cecine took his seat at the head of the table. “Your definition of need must differ quite radically from mine,” he replied with a quirk of his lips.

  Wyatt exacted his revenge by hijacking the loaded spoon from Shelley’s hand and throwing it on the floor between them with a screech.

  She sighed. “Why do I even bother?”

  “He’ll eat when he gets hungry enough,” Cecine told her, watching Wyatt with an expression of masculine indulgence that made her heart trip.

  “Yes, but mealtime will be over by then.” She leaned down to pick up the spoon and put it back in the bowl without a second thought. It was probably more sanitary now than before it hit the floor, and any spatters of baby food had already soaked into the biologic pad that lined the Heptoral’s interior. That was the other thing about this ship she was really going to miss—self-cleaning walls and floors.

  “Ah, but it’s always mealtime for hungry warriors, isn’t it, young Wyatt?”

  Wyatt grinned back at him, proudly displaying four tiny teeth and most of his gums. He didn’t care that Minister Cecine, like most of the people at the table, was an alien, or that he had long hair, or that his lean face was scarred down one side. Wyatt was always thrilled when the minister held him or talked to him. He was thrilled when any of the Garathani males held him—even Monica’s butt-ugly second mate Zannen.

  Both twins seemed to crave male attention, particularly Cecine’s and Hastion’s, and it worried her. They were very advanced for their age, already sitting up on their own and babbling like they were trying to communicate, and they’d formed attachments to everyone at the table. It was going to be hard on them when it was just her and Tara. And she’d be working days, so they’d see no one but Tara during most of their waking hours.

  The realization made her stomach contract with anxiety. How could she condemn such social babies to such a lonely life?

  Wyatt reached for Hastion, who started to reach back and then paused to look at her. “May I?”

  Shelley hesitated and then decided she couldn’t deny either of them. Pushing her plate away, she said, “Let me clean him up first.”

  After she’d wiped off Wyatt’s face and pudgy little baby hands and unstrapped him from the high chair, Hastion picked him up.

  He frowned at her plate as Wyatt stood stiffly on his thighs and grabbed at his hair. “Surely you’re going to eat more than that.”

  Shelley looked at the grapefruit sections and soft-boiled egg she’d barely touched. She’d thought finding out about her seven-figure debt to the GaraTer Alliance was the best appetite suppressant ever, until she found out about the placement Alien Affairs had arranged for her. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You need to eat more,” Hastion scolded.

  “Right, because I’m so obviously wasting away,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Men. They were the same no matter what planet they hailed from—they wanted women to eat like lumberjacks and look like anorexics.

  She thought about talking to the minister about the Mooseback situation, but really, what more could he do? Director Thorpe had told her all the other placements they’d tried to set up for her had fallen through because someone recognized her from her ID. If her face was that recognizable, she probably couldn’t relocate anywhere near civilization. She either had to suck it up, get her hair cut, dyed and straightened, and move to Mooseback, or sign up for a trip to Garathan.

  Two years on Planet Hawaii and most of her problems would be solved. Could she do it?

  Pushing back her chair, she stood up and went around to the other side of the table to clean up Kallie. “I need to go talk to my mom for a while.”

  Monica stood too and gave Shelley an awkward but obviously heartfelt hug. “Just promise you’ll think about going with us, okay? I really don’t want to leave you in Asscrack.”

  Knowing it was no use correcting her, Shelley hugged her back. “Fine, I’ll think about it,” she said against her breast.

  When she got back to her quarters, carrying a baby on each hip, Tara and Janelle were both sprawled on sofas, staring at their electronic tablets.

  “You’re up early,” she said.

  Tara immediately hopped up and plucked Kallie from her arm. “They slept through the night again so we got plenty of sleep too,” she said, kissing the baby’s rosy cheek as she sat back down. “I’m starting to feel guilty.”

  “Totally,” Janelle agreed. “We hardly do anything to earn our keep anymore. I swear, those two sleep more than any babies I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m sure I’ll pay for it one of these days,” Shelley said with a wan smile. “Would one of you mind watching them for an hour or so?”

  “I’m not doing anything,” Tara said.

  Janelle set aside her tablet and reached for Wyatt. “Come here, you.”

  “Wasn’t there a volleyball tournament on the Transport Deck this morning?” Shelley said as she handed him over.

  “Yeah, but I’ve never been much of an athlete.”

  “Me neither,” Tara agreed.

  Shelley had been all kinds of athlete when she was younger, and yet they were both skinnier than she was.

  She sighed. “Well thank you, but I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “Why not? We’re taking advantage of the private rooms, which, believe me, is worth a lot more than a few measly hours of babysitting here and there. Besides,” Janelle added, “playing with the twins keeps me from getting bored. Bianca and Cindy are totally jealous.”

  “Well, I’m happy for you then.” Shelley thought about telling Tara about the Mooseback offer, but why bother if she couldn’t imagine accepting it? “I’m going to go talk to my mom for a while if she’s home.”

  “Okay. Don’t worry about the babies,” Tara said as she returned to her couch. “We’ll find something to keep us happy, won’t we, my sweet Kalinda Rose?”

  Shelley smiled when Kallie squealed happily. She couldn’t have asked for more lovin
g nannies. “Thanks, girls. I appreciate it.”

  In her room, she sat at the desk. “Empran, could you set up a video chat with my mother?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Shelley smiled ruefully. Though she seemed to have it in for Monica, Empran was always the epitome of politeness to her.

  A flare screen three feet wide appeared on the wall in front of her. “Video chat commencing.”

  “Thank you, Empran.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  In the next instant, Rose Southern appeared on the screen, almost life-sized in her pink, button-down shirt and blue-jean vest with little pastel flowers appliqued all over it. She looked soft and inviting and real enough to hug. Shelley could almost smell her signature rose oil perfume.

  “Hi, Mom,” she sighed, resting her chin in her palm.

  “Hi, sweetie!”

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “Out in the garage with Alex, I think. I’ll go get him in a minute. How are you? How are my grandbabies?” Then she frowned. “What’s wrong, Shelley?”

  Shelley’s lower lip trembled, and before she could head them off, tears spurted down her cheeks. “Oh, Mom!”

  “What? Now you’re scaring me. Please tell me.” When all the answer she got was a broken sob, Mom used her drill sergeant tone. “Shelley Nicole Southern, you answer me right now. Did something happen to one of the babies?”

  “I want to come home!” she wailed.

  “Aw!” Her mother reached out as if she could hug her through the screen. “I know you do, my love, and I wish to God you could. Now tell me what’s happened.”

  “Nothing. Just…I’m thinking about applying for a job. On Garathan.”

  “Garathan! Oh, Shelley!” She looked as crushed as Shelley felt.

  “It’s not that bad, Mom,” she said, wiping away her tears and trying to work up some enthusiasm. Not wanting to worry her parents any more than she had to, she hadn’t told them about the repayment demand from the Alliance, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell them about Mooseback when there was nothing they could do to help. “It’s only for two years, and listen to this—I can save all my paychecks and the signing bonus is ginormous. I could go back to school if I wanted, maybe become a nurse practitioner, and I wouldn’t even have to work while I did it.”