On a Pale Ship Page 7

  “You can do it or I can,” Dorian replied. “My ship has diplomatic status. Nuage has no legal standing to detain us.”

  “Hot.” He turned back to check the position of the Falcons. Not unexpectedly, one of the ships had nudged in front of Little Deuce. He checked the ship’s ident; the pilot was his previous squad mate, Jarrod Utenser. “Hang on.”

  He pulled back on the throttle and waited for the gap to increase between him and Utenser.

  “Please maintain speed and heading,” Alex Ouvrard prompted almost immediately.

  “Unmute,” Luc ordered the AI.

  “Playtime is over, kids,” Luc said and pushed the yolk forward and to the left, dropping Little Deuce toward the clouds. He rolled to port until he’d rotated one-hundred eighty degrees and was flying upside down beneath the Nuage squadron.

  Ouvrard was the first to respond and rolled to port in an attempt to keep up with Little Deuce.

  “Luc, knock it off. We’re not playing,” Ouvrard exclaimed.

  Luc could hear tension in the man’s voice as he executed the maneuver. “Check diplo, Alex,” Luc replied. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  With that, Luc shoved the throttle forward. The speed at which the corvette accelerated was as surprising as the complete lack of inertial transfer within the cabin. They might as well be sitting at the bar, for as much change in direction that could be felt.

  Once at a safe distance in front of the flagging squadron of Falcons, Luc adjusted the throttle to eighty-five percent and pushed the yolk forward. The move snapped the corvette’s twin-hulled nose around so it pointed away from the planet.

  “Combat burn,” Luc ordered. For the first time, he was pushed back into his seat as Little Deuce rocketed into space.

  “That was quite a display,” Dorian said once they’d cleared Nuage-controlled space. “You have been wasted in Air Defense, Lucien Gray. Could you have executed that maneuver with a Falcon?”

  “You had to know that was my old squad. If I was going to show off, then I was going to go big. My exit would have been harder with a Falcon, they don’t have the acceleration of your Little Deuce.”

  “Surprising you were able to work that out so quickly. Your frame of reference for flying has been Falcons for the better part of fifteen stans.”

  “We’re called on to sail ships of all kinds when we board or provide assistance. I have a lot of hours in simulators on various ships of all sizes. None like Little Deuce, though.”

  She stood from her chair and turned toward him, hands on hips. “Did you really call me hot?”

  “Momentary breach of etiquette,” he admitted. “We never did much more than eat a few dinners together.”

  “Oh? Did you aspire to more?”

  “Hah. Um. Only if you were interested,” Luc admitted, his facing turning red.

  "Oh, I'm interested,” she purred as she pulled up her long dress and swung a very shapely leg over the arm of his chair. She sat on his lap, facing him, and Luc froze. Dorian placed her hands on each side of his face and bent forward, the cool touch of her long fingers cradling his head. Her kisses were warm and energetic, her tongue enticing and playful. As the shock cleared, human nature took over and Luc responded, reciprocating her urgent caresses.

  Abruptly, Dorian pulled back, releasing him, her wide eyes searching for something in his face. Had he been too hesitant or too enthusiastic?

  “The last woman I fell for disappeared on me,” he said, hoping he could stay explanation neutral. “She was married to her ship and her crew.”

  “We should not do this.” Dorian stood up quickly and smoothed her dress. “I should not lead you on. I cannot offer more than the moments available to us. I am not someone you can fall for.”

  Luc stood and caught her hand, surprised at the change in the powerful woman’s demeanor. While her words indicated strength and control, her body language was all wrong. Her face showed great pain and it was clear Dorian felt vulnerable.

  “I will not demand more than you can give,” Luc said, pulling her to him so their faces were mere centimeters apart. “I won’t trivialize the moments we have, either. You could spend your time with any man you want, and yet here we are. You are as intelligent as you are beautiful. If I have to choose between sex and spending more time with you, then I’ll skip the part where we take off our clothing.”

  “You hardly know me,” she whispered back.

  He gently rested his hand on her chest. "Don't pull away from me, Dorian. People like us don't get many moments like this. We can have more than just physical release."

  “Do you miss Ada Chen?”

  Luc smiled, not even a bit surprised she knew of his fling with the pilot who sailed with the arguably rogue Loose Nuts crew. “With all my being,” he said. “Let me ask you a question. Do you believe a person has only one soulmate?”

  The question took her aback. “Why would you ask that?”

  “I won’t dismiss how valuable Ada Chen is to me,” he said. “She had to answer to a higher calling, but I wouldn’t trade the time we had together for anything. We connected.”

  “And you think I am your soulmate?”

  “I have no idea, Dorian,” he said. “But what’s the point of a relationship if that’s not possible? I can already see that you aren’t a woman who gives of herself easily. Ask yourself why we seem drawn to one another. I know you don’t believe it’s just for sex.”

  “You are a dear complex man,” she said, leaning in and kissing him lightly. “I have not had someone challenge me in this way in more years that you might believe possible.” Dorian’s beautiful mouth curved into a frown, her lower lip extended into a melodramatic pout. “Does this mean you prefer to take sex off the table?”

  Luc raised an eyebrow and smiled with an impish grin. Wordlessly, he reached behind Dorian and pulled at the hidden zipper on her dress, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her back. Working slowly, without ever breaking eye contact, he eased the shoulder straps down, lowering the material until her petite breasts were fully exposed. As he let go, the dress glided gently to the floor, puddling around her feet.

  When he saw no argument in her eyes, Luc reached down and pulled off his own shirt, exposing a well-muscled chest and abdomen.

  Dorian’s eyes lit with mischief as she openly admired his physique. Huffing an embarrassed chuckle, she grabbed Luc’s belt and gave it a strong tug.

  Without missing a beat, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling their bodies together.

  Dorian’s arms snaked up, frantically kneading and exploring the firm muscles of Luc’s chest. None too gently, her fingers found his earlobes and she pulled his face to her own.

  “Dorian, just to be clear I will have sex on any table you care to identify.”

  She chuckled at his wordplay.

  “Victor, would you take control of the ship and set us into high orbit over Grünholz? Captain Gray and I will be retiring to my stateroom and I prefer that we not be interrupted.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” a disembodied voice replied.

  “Victor?” Gray mouthed, looking around.

  “Butler,” she replied. “He’s very discrete.”

  Dorian stepped from her pooled dress, wearing only dark blue heels and matching panties, both complimenting her flawless ebony skin. She took Luc’s hand and led him back to the zero-g opening in the floor. Grabbing a handle on the opposite wall, she pushed off and they both glided to the deck below.

  “Owner’s quarters are port,” she said, walking regally in front of him.

  A few meters down the passageway, she turned forward and placed her hand on a security panel. A hatch in the forward bulkhead swung open. Almost immediately she stopped and opened another hatch, this time toward the centerline of the ship.

  The quarters they entered looked like nothing Luc had ever seen. With a graceful leap, Dorian launched herself onto a high, pillow-covered bed. At each corner, tall wooden posts rose to suppor
t a canopy. And while he didn’t have a lot of time to look around, he noticed that the remainder of the room was appointed in the same, Victorian style.

  “This was your big plan?” he asked, kicking off his shoes and removing his jeans. “Lure me into your lair and trap me so you could do unspeakable things to me?”

  He walked to the side of the bed, placed a hand on either side of Dorian, and crawled over her like a big cat claiming its prey. He paused and kissed her stomach just below the belly button. Luc smiled as her skin quivered beneath the touch of his lips.

  “Oh, I plan to do all that and more,” she said with a husky voice.

  Luc awoke with his hand resting on Dorian’s breast, her long fingers intertwined with his own. He breathed in the smell of her and kissed the back of her neck.

  She leaned her head forward and kissed his fingers. “I would lay with you like this for the rest of time. If only it was possible.”

  “Duty calls?”

  “Emilie Bastion’s life depends on us.”

  “Tell me what I must do,” he said, sitting up.

  “Victor has set us in orbit above Léger Nuage. I have procured passage for you to Nannandry where you will find your own transportation to the Oberrhein fife Kazan in the city of Cauldron. There is a trader Yakov Maximovich — goes by the name Yasha. He operates out of a bar. You must convince him to tell you what happened to Lieutenant Bastion.”

  “Beyond beating him senseless, do you have any ideas on how I might coerce him?”

  Dorian slipped from the bed and grabbed a silky, black robe. Luc was disappointed, but knew he’d have difficulty focusing if she didn’t cover up. She reached into a drawer in the bedside table and extracted a small pouch, tossing it to him.

  “There are twenty thousand credits of gold fingers in there,” she said. “We know Yasha is heavily involved in human trafficking. If anyone moved Bastion, it was either him or he knows who did.”

  “I need to get clothing and weapons from my apartment,” Luc said, standing next to the bed and looking around. He wasn’t finding any of his clothing. “And it might be helpful if I had my pants.”

  Dorian smirked as she looked back at him. “What if I prefer you this way?”

  “Don’t start something if you’re not willing to follow through.”

  “Forgive me. It has been some time since I’ve been in the company of a … well … man. I had forgotten how easily distracted you become.”

  “I think we’re well past the point where forgiveness can be requested,” he said, taking a quick step toward her.

  She scooted away with a laugh and disappeared through a panel in the opposite wall. Luc attempted to follow, but for him, the panel wouldn’t budge.

  A chime from the main entrance door sounded. Luc approached the hatch and an older man’s face appeared on the security panel.

  “Hello?” Luc responded.

  “Ah, yes. Mr. Gray, I assume,” the man responded dryly.

  “I’m Luc. And, you are?”

  “Victor. I’ve been instructed by Madame to show you to a shower.”

  “I’m naked.”

  “Riveting. There’s a robe folded on the dresser to your left. If you’ll put it on, I’ll show you to the guest quarters.”

  Luc grabbed the robe and threw it around his shoulders. It was a thin, silky material and he immediately disliked it, but it covered him.

  “Please hurry along,” Victor said, opening the hatch.

  Luc grabbed the pouch of gold and found he had to jog to catch up to the small man who was overdressed in a formal-looking black suit. Victor re-entered the connecting hallway aft and went past the lift and up to the bridge. Once again, he headed forward into what Luc was sure was the starboard side of the twin hulls.

  “Grays or browns, Mr. Gray?” Victor asked, pausing next to a hatch.

  “What?”

  “Don’t be difficult. Do you prefer to wear grays or browns?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought,” Luc replied.

  “Grays it is. Your sandy hair could support either, but your blue-gray eyes will be better offset with a gray palette. Now, take a shower and your clothing will be on the bed when you exit.”

  “Where?” Luc asked, slightly annoyed at the terse little man’s apparent dislike of him.

  Victor raised an eyebrow and shook his head as if he were explaining algebra to an engineer. “Surely they have security panels on Nuage. Place your hand on it, the rest should seem obvious.”

  “Thanks,” Luc said through gritted teeth.

  He palmed his way into the room. Unlike Dorian’s, the room was plain and sparse, but spacious — as far as space-faring vehicles went. The bed was of normal height with no posts or canopy. To Luc’s delight, his wooden bokken had been placed at one end. A transparent door led into a private head and Luc availed himself of the shower.

  Upon exiting, Luc was surprised to see that Victor had returned with everything he’d need for his trip. On the bed was a suit liner, footwear, a dark gray vac-suit and a high-collared, full-length cloak with a deep hood. He dressed and found that even the soft-treaded boots fit perfectly.

  Exiting the room, he almost bumped into Victor who had been moving at high speed down the passageway.

  Upon seeing Luc, Victor stopped and faced him. “Madame requests your presence in the wardroom for breakfast.”

  “The clothing fits perfectly,” Luc said. “Thank you.”

  Victor’s smile was lopsided and condescending. “Oh, I’m so glad I’ve found my true calling. I’ll be sure to write Mummy.” Without saying another word, Victor hustled forward along the starboard passageway.

  Luc’s AI presented a layout of Little Deuce onto his HUD and highlighted the wardroom. His AI had been busy, communicating with the ship’s AI and downloading publicly available information. He worked his way around the u-shaped layout and found Dorian in the wardroom.

  “You look refreshed,” she said, setting down her cup. She’d also changed clothing and now wore something halfway between a vac-suit and a business woman’s suit. If anything, it made her appear more intimidating.

  “You look like you’re ready for the boardroom,” he said.

  “Not too far off. I have several meetings here in Nuage before I head back to my compound on Irène,” she said.

  “Is this real?” Luc asked.

  “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

  “You and me.”

  She smiled tightly. “Coffee?” she asked, pouring steaming black liquid from a silver pitcher into a bright white ceramic cup. She slid it to him and gestured to an array of fruits and rolls.

  “Don’t do that,” he said.

  “Do what?”

  “Shut me out.”

  “Last night was a mistake, Lucien,” she said. “Don't fool yourself. There is no narrative that brings the two of us together.”

  “When this business with Emilie is over, we're going to have a longer conversation," he replied.

  "Why? We had a fling. We have no investment in each other. Don't ruin a good thing."

  "Now who's fooling themselves?"

  Chapter 7

  Watery Grave

  System: Bethe Peierls, Planet: Vermeer, City: Fariza

  Slinking into the shadows of an alley behind the hotel, Katriona stuffed the dark glasses and pistol into her backpack. She focused her breathing, attempting to remove the indelible video of Diasev's neck spraying blood all over the wall. In the moment, she'd had no trouble separating her actions from feelings, but in the cool darkness of the alley, as adrenaline left her system, her hands shook and a tear ran down her cheek.

  She pulled wipes from her backpack and dissolved the Lady Almasev overlay gloves that had modified her hand prints. She threw the wipes to the ground where they immediately disintegrated. She then wiped her face and hair with a cloth infused with chemicals to remove organic material transferred from Diasev. Using a scanner, she checked herself to make sure she was clean
of anything that would tie her to the hotel room.

  She thought of the Almasev identity wistfully as, with finality, she crushed the identity chip she’d pulled from the earwig comm device. She’d left twelve hundred credits in Almasev's account, but there was nothing to be done about it. Keeping any connection to the identity would risk exposure when the authorities went on what would certainly be a massive hunt for a government employee's killer.

  Katriona had several skeletal identities available in her pack as temporary replacements. They consisted of ident-chips that could be loaded into her earwig. While she had no handprints or genetic material for the alternate IDs, it would be enough to keep a firewall between her and Marek. She chose one of the IDs her HUD identified as Trixie and smiled as she recalled the stupid cons she'd pulled in Trixie's name.

  Pulling the cat-suit's mask over her head and the gloves over her fingers, she engaged the stealth mode that would allow her to meld into any background. She crept from the alley, keeping close to the buildings while moving between them in the dark of early morning. Finally, sounds of her destination, a night club, caught her attention and she moved toward it.

  It was past 0130 but the club was in full swing and she had to fight her way through a crowd of people standing in line, waiting to be let in. Katriona was certain her suit was unable to completely mask her presence from the crowds, but it didn't seem to bother anyone as they gyrated against each other, dancing to the music piped into the streets by the club.

  Once inside she worked her way to the restrooms where she dropped stealth mode, switched the cat-suit to skin color and adjusted the material into a short-hemmed skirt, appropriate for clubbing.

  "Scotch, dirty," she shouted to the bartender after dancing her way to the bar, arms held high.

  Upon receipt, she drained the glass and set it back onto the bar and ordered a second. With drink in hand she danced over to a row of booths against the back wall. Finding them all occupied, she moved to the edge of the room and touched her earwig, causing it to generate a sound canceling wave. The function wasn’t perfect, but it lowered the noise sufficiently for her to attempt a call.