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Zack stepped off Shokoten and grimaced. Autumn had settled over Aramis' northern hemisphere, and Heaven's Gate seemed crushed beneath brooding, gray clouds. Though sunset was still hours away, the lights of the spaceport and the city glittered like tiny beacons of hope, trying in vain to dispel the sense of hopelessness and despair smothering the colony.
He turned up the collar of his spacer's jacket and pulled his brimmed officer's cap down hard, to prevent it from being snatched away by the icy wind's strong fingers. The thin stripes of his warrant rank gleamed on his shoulders as they soaked up the water pouring incessantly from the sky.
Zack shivered as an arctic gust of wind sliced through the insulated coat and chilled his body.
The crew had a few hours of liberty before the ship lifted, and then only because of the long trip ahead. Strachan had wisely given his people time to buy a few things that would make the trip more comfortable, even if their lift-off would be more hectic as a result. The outbound cargo was already on board. Aramis stevedores were an efficient if surly bunch. With this weather, who could blame them?
Raisa couldn't go ashore with Zack this time. She still had to clear the ship through interminable layers of bureaucracy. Not that it mattered. The only thing Decker wanted to do was pay Tren Kinnear a short visit, to let him know he was doing okay, and then visit a few shops to stock up on hooch, cigars, and a few other little luxuries. His next time alone with Darhad would be weeks and hundreds of light years away. Tough, but that was a spacer's lot.
Dodging puddles on the grimy tarmac, Decker headed for the terminal building, shoulders hunched against the cold, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and eyes narrowed against the stinging spray of rain.
A small trader lifted from runway twelve, the usual ear-shattering roar of thrusters muffled by the thick, wet air. Zack turned to watch the ship lift on a rapidly dissipating pillar of steam. The traders roaming humanity's outer reaches belonged to a small tribe, and he'd seen the sleek freighter several times before.
By the time Zack entered the terminal, shaking the rain droplets from his cap and jacket, the small ship had been swallowed by the dense clouds.
The waiting room was grimy, like all things at the working end of a spaceport. But it was warm, dry, and more importantly, had a public box that didn't charge for calls to taxi services. He waited alone in the cavernous room, eyes staring at the street through dirty windows. No one else was dumb enough to wander outside in this weather, and most of the crew had already gone ashore. Apart from Shokoten, there was no other freighter on the ground now that the small trader had boosted out.
A battered taxi, shiny under a slick coat of freezing rain, careened to a stop and Zack hurried out, shoulders hunched, and climbed aboard.
“Where to, Mac?” The driver, a genuine human driver, asked as he leaned over the back of his seat to glance at Zack.
“To the Dragon's Tooth. Know it?”
The driver pushed his flat cap away from his forehead and cackled, a sound more like an aborted cough than an actual expression of amusement.
“Shit, Mac. Ain't worth being a taxi man 'round here if you don't know the best spots in Spacetown.”
He grinned, showing a row of crooked teeth, and then turned his prizefighter's mug toward the front, gunning the taxi's four turbofans. With a stomach-turning lurch, the hovercar sped off into the gloom, its driver humming a tuneless air punctuated by soft snorts.
Human taxi drivers weren't very common, except on low-tech colonies. Zack would have thought Aramis had come far enough, at least in the larger towns. Not that he minded having a breathing, sentient being at the controls, but an AI would probably have been safer.
With a whine of overstressed fans, the taxi screeched to a stop in front of a door that spilled an inviting square of warm light on the cold, gray sidewalk. Above, lit in garish colors, the caricature of a leering, Shrehari reptile invited patrons to enter.
“Here you are, Mac. That'll be three creds fifty.” The driver turned around in his seat and grinned at Zack again, his small eyes nearly vanishing inside the deep folds of a face that had seen one fist too many.
Zack handed over four one-cred chips.
“Keep the change, buddy. Thanks for the ride.” He didn't know whether the price of the trip was high, low, or just right, but right now, he didn't care either way.
“Thanks, Mac. If you need a ride back, just call the dispatcher and ask for Larry. I'll be there in a flash, as long as I don't have another fare.”
“I’ll do that.” Decker nodded and stepped out of the cab. The door slid shut behind him, and Larry sped away with his habitual recklessness. Zack shook his head and walked into the welcoming warmth of Tren Kinnear's inn.
The noise and heat, along with the smell of beer and food washed over him like a wave as he crossed the threshold. This close to suppertime, the inn was filling with locals in search of a square meal and a pint of ale.
Zack took off his brimmed cap and unfastened his pea jacket as he made his way to the bar. He received a few uninterested glances but attracted no other attention. Merchant officers were a common sight in Kinnear's establishment, and simple warrant officers merited little notice, even those who stood almost two meters tall, with seamed, hard faces and shoulders to match.
“Good evening, Mister,” a young barmaid chirped, smiling in welcome. Short, with curly blond hair and a pert nose, she looked like someone's younger sister. She hadn't been around the last time Zack had seen the place. “What'll it be?”
“A pint of your best bitter and tell the owner of this place that his old buddy Zack's in town.” Decker sat on a high stool, dropped his coat over its neighbor, and set his cap on the bar.
The girl looked at him for a few seconds, surprised at the request, then shrugged and expertly drew a large glass of amber liquid from the antique beer-pull. After carefully placing it in front of Zack, she turned around and stuck her head through the door connecting the bar to the kitchen.
“Mara, merchant officer named Zack wants to see the boss.”
Tren's wife shouted back something unintelligible. Seconds later, her large body thrust aside the door. She stared at Zack with raised eyebrows.
“My, my. 'Tis Mister Zachary Decker, as I live and breathe. And looking mighty fine too, in that merchant officer's uniform. I'll go pull the old bugger from of his cave. He'll be glad to see you.” Then she vanished again.
Zack sipped his drink as he turned around to survey the inn. No other uniforms in the place, but plenty of men and women who looked like their day jobs didn't involve eight hours behind a desk. No obvious villains or cops either though Decker doubted that his unfortunate encounter with the corrupt Spacetown detective still sat on someone's to do list.
“Hey, Decker, you old fart! You’re looking good, my boy, looking good.”
He turned around at the sound of the familiar voice and grinned broadly as he put down his beer. Grasping the proffered, meaty hand in his own, he shook it enthusiastically.
“Tren, you slimy purveyor of diseased goods, still short-changing the clientele, I see.”
“No other way to make a profit, buddy. So how have you been?” Before Zack could answer, Kinnear walked around the bar and grabbed his upper arm. “C'mon, let's sit down comfortable-like. Sissi!”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Serve Zack another of what he's having, get me a pint of dark and both of us a plate of whatever the old girl's cooking back there.”
They sat in a corner booth and grinned at each other.
“I'm glad to see you well, Zack. How's your job on Shokoten working out?”
“Better than I expected. It isn't the Corps, but it has its moments. I owe you for getting me the berth. I've done more traveling in the last while than ever before. You wouldn't believe the places I’ve been and the stuff I’ve seen.” He stopped as Sissi brought them food and drink, and then went on to tell his old friend about his travels, omitting any mention of Darhad or contraband.
“An active life,” Kinnear said, popping a bread crust soaked with gravy into his mouth. “Not that I'm envious, mind you,” he continued, chewing between words, “I have all I need here, but you're doing fun stuff too. I'm happy you found yourself a place. You were none too nice a sight when you first crawled in here. Now look at you: warrant officer in a merchant ship, gunner no less.” He pointed at the badge on Decker's right breast.
“Nice they let you wear the old pin. Brings back memories, don't it? Back in the good old days when we were jumping out of perfectly good shuttles flying in low orbit. I miss them sometimes. A man knew what he was fighting for and who he could trust.”
Decker didn't know why, but Tren's brief trip down memory lane, just after noticing the mystery pin, gave him mixed feelings. His face lost its smile, and he stared down at his plate, toying with his utensils.
“Yeah. Good old days they were, Tren.” His voice sounded false even to him. Suddenly, he felt a burning need to return to the ship, get away from Kinnear, and back to the life he'd made for himself aboard Shokoten. “So how's the inn doing?”
“Fine. Just hauling in the creds, we are.” If Kinnear had noticed Decker's sudden change of mood, he gave no sign. “Nothing much has changed.”
“Whatever happened to the girl I brought in?”
Now it was Kinnear's turn to drop the smile and glance away.
“Hell, Zack. Was nothing we could do. Little fool decided she was safe to take a walk one night, a couple of months ago. Didn't much look like the whore you brought to us that night. She was off drugs, booze, and sex, working regular hours in the place every day. Mara pretty much decided Ellena was the kid she never had.”
To his surprise, Zack could see tears forming in the corners of Tren's eyes.
“Anyways, one night she wants to go to the movies, see the latest flick. We said she'd better not because there's no guarantee she won't be recognized. But she had cabin fever, I guess. Short of tying her up, there was nothing we could do. We couldn't leave the place so she went alone. I asked one of my buddies to keep an eye on her, and he did. Up to a point. At the flicks, she went into the little girl's room and never came out. When my friend became nervous, he asked one of the lady attendants to check. Not a fucking trace of Ellena. They found her two days later, lying in a ditch outside town. She'd been stripped, tortured, and raped before being killed.” Now Tren was crying openly.
“The fucking bastards waited for her after all,” he continued. “Yeah, it was the pals of the guy you killed. Wanted revenge. I heard the message loud and clear. Won't be hurting anyone now though. I have other friends who don't like seeing young gals be murdered. Those crooked cops are now pushing up daisies, and the local head cop's launched an internal investigation that's shining light into the shittiest corners of the Spacetown precinct. Don't worry, they won't stumble on your name. Took care of that when you first ran to me.”
“Shit!” Decker felt like someone had hit him with a battle cruiser's main guns. The sharp edge of depression had nicked him earlier. Now, he felt his spirits hit rock bottom. The only thing he could think of was getting away from this place and the memories that kept intruding into his new life.
“You said it, buddy.” Tren wiped his tears away with a meaty paw and drained his beer. “So, you here for long?”
“Nope. We lift tonight on a long haul towards the core. Just came by to say hi. Still have to buy personal supplies for the trip. Be about time I leave now.”
“Don't you worry about personal supplies, Mister Warrant Officer Decker,” Kinnear replied, a smile returning to his face. “I'll fix a package before you leave this place. Have another brew, and I'll see what’s in stock. You still like single malt? Cigars?”
“Yeah on both counts.” Now Decker felt uneasy as if he were taking advantage of a friend with whom he hadn't been entirely straight. Or to be more precise, a friend with whom he had shared a belief in values he had forgotten lately, values he had, admittedly, trampled on by helping Strachan carry out his business.
Sissi brought him more ale while Kinnear foraged around his back room for what he'd called his 'care package.' About ten minutes later, the older man came back with a tightly bound bundle.
“Here you go, Zack.” He placed the plastic-wrapped box on the table. “Three bottles of my finest Caledonian single malt, a box of Romeo y Julieta cigars, a few cans of fancy meats, caviar and preserved fruit, and a bottle of my very own homemade digestive liqueur,” Kinnear grinned with pleasure.
He slapped Decker on the shoulder. “When you're back on Aramis, you can tell me how you like it. And tell me about this long haul of yours. Not too many folks head that far out.”
Zack drained his beer and stood. “Thanks, Tren. Thanks for the brew, the supper, and the package.” He held out his hand. “I'm glad to know there's a place I can always come back to and find a friend.”
“Anytime, buddy, anytime. I'm always happy to see you. Have a safe trip and watch out for those alien babes. You don't wanna leave little Zacks on all the planets in the fucking galaxy on top of every stinking colony in the Commonwealth, do you?”
“Don't worry about that, Tren.” Decker managed a small smile, but just because his mind flashed a picture of his very own alien babe. He let go of Tren's hand and put on his pea jacket.
“Any chance of calling a taxi?”
“Don't you worry about that neither. Just follow the guy standing by the door there. He'll take you back to the port. A friend of mine headed the same way.”
Decker glanced over at the tall, bearded man by the door and nodded. Larry, the taxi driver, wouldn't be driving Zack back, and for that, the ex-Marine was thankful.
“'Bye, Tren.”
“Take care, you young bugger.” Tren gave Decker a bear hug. When the older man released him, Zack put on his brimmed cap, grinned briefly, and followed the bearded man out of the Dragon's Tooth.
Kinnear watched his friend leave and shook his head. He'd noticed Decker's rapid change of mood, the doubts written large on his open face, the hesitations and evasions in his account of his time on Shokoten, and especially his reaction to Tren noticing the Master Gunner badge. But he couldn’t afford to dwell on Zack’s situation, lest he developed doubts of his own. He returned to his place behind the bar just in time to greet an old customer.
“And how are you tonight, Jenny? Business still good?”
*
Zack hurried across the wet tarmac and up the gangway, rain trickling down his collar. The outer airlock opened at his touch, and the bosun’s mate of the watch grinned as the gunner shook himself dry.
“Wet one, sir?”
“That it is, Veelan. Dirty fucking weather.”
“We’ll soon be off this mud ball, though, aren’t we?”
“Yup. A few hours and we lift. Have a lovely evening.”
The kid snapped to attention. “You too, sir.”
Decker’s short conversation with the young spacer had done much to raise his flagging spirits, and he caught himself whistling a tune by the time he reached his cabin, after meeting what seemed like half the crew in the passageways. Yup, Shokoten was home all rights, rough crew, contraband cargo and all.
*
“Heaven's Gate control to Shokoten, you are cleared for take-off as number one. Be advised of small craft traffic near your authorized flight path up to ten thousand.” Zack raised his eyebrows in surprise at the announcement. They must be crazy to fly at night and in this weather. “Report to orbital control when passing thirty thousand. Have a successful trip.”
“Shokoten to Control, thank you and goodbye,” Captain Strachan replied, “Nav, confirm course is laid in and has been accepted.”
“Confirmed.”
“All systems green, sir,” First Officer Darhad chimed in from her console to Strachan's right.
“Helm, keel thrusters on. Increase gradually until you have neutral lift.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
A rumbling ran through the freighter's hull as the atmospheric thrusters powered up. Pillars of steam rose from the runway, shrouding Shokoten and cutting off her view of the city. She lurched a bit, and Zack knew the landing struts had left the ground.
“Hovering at two meters, sir,” the senior helmsman said in a tense voice.
“Take her up to one thousand, stand by aft thrusters.”
“One thousand, aft thrusters online, aye.”
This time, they felt the change in motion as the ship rose vertically, leaving a column of steam behind and giving the crew a last glimpse of Heaven's Gate before the low cloud cover swallowed them.
“Nine hundred.”
“Aft thrusters on.”
“Aft thrusters on, aye. Passing one thousand. We are on the plotted lift course, sir.”
“Thank you, helm. Well done.”
*
Lift-off was always difficult for a ship the size of Shokoten. A sudden, strong wind shear when she was still close to the ground could spell disaster. But, as Zack learned, Strachan’s bridge crew was good at its job.
As they sailed upwards out of Aramis’ troposphere, into her stratosphere and beyond, where the blue of the sky gave way to the black of space, the gunner amused himself by tracking the planet’s defensive setup. He played little mind games on how he’d outwit them, should he need to land Shokoten unseen.
Like most human worlds, Aramis had its own defense force independent of the Fleet. And like most defense forces, this one was competent but not enough for a Pathfinder. By the time Shokoten left the planet, released by orbital control, he had figured out not one but four possible infiltration routes.
*
“I think we need to stay at a higher level of vigilance from about ten light years before the border until we're well past Kardat and the rest of the marauder hideouts.” Zack pointed at the star map on Strachan’s desk. “That means the gun systems are live, the shields are up at all times, and the crew lives in battledress. Plus, we keep a qualified hand on the sensors at all times.”
“It will require expanding the watches to fill the added tasks,” Darhad noted, “but I have no problems with the gunner's suggestion. It makes eminent sense to be prepared.”
“Agreed. Raisa, post the orders and re-jig the watches.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“I wish to discuss another matter, while I have both of you here.” Zack and Raisa nodded. It had become Strachan's habit to take Decker into his confidence alongside the first officer, and such a statement no longer surprised him. “I have received sealed instructions from our owners that supersede the instructions given at the Guild exchange.”
Decker raised his eyebrows in surprise. There was little doubt Strachan meant orders from their real owners.
“We are no longer stopping at Rhada, our original destination,” Strachan continued, “but sailing on towards the core for a planet called Ventos Prime, about fifty light years beyond Rhada on a direct flight path.”
“Why?” Zack was curious. It tacked another week or more to their trip. He had never heard of Ventos Prime for that matter.
“No idea. Seems the deal they had on Rhada fell through. I guess it’s a bit of luck that they found a new buyer and seller relatively close by.” Strachan sounded unconcerned about an even longer trip beyond the borders of the Commonwealth.
Zack carefully schooled his expression, but his mind was filling with questions. Ventos Prime was a distant destination for a cargo of low-grade tech. Who knew what they’d be hauling back from a planet few had ever heard about.
Darhad caught his mental agitation but refrained from commenting. Instead, she asked, “Will we resupply along the way? That distance will strain our stores. We are not a survey cruiser.”
“I've been told that someone on Ventos Prime can provide us with enough perishables to keep an adequate safety margin for the return trip.”
This time, Darhad raised her eyebrows, merging their upswept tips with her crimson hair.
“I had not realized Ventos Prime had a ship's chandlery business equipped to deal with humans.”
“All I know is that I have my orders,” Strachan replied, eyes hardening. His tone brooked no further discussion, and that surprised Decker as much as anything else had. He normally treated his first officer with much more tolerance, at least in front of his gunner. The captain didn't seem overly pleased with this trip. Was it the distance, or was there something else?
“That will be all.”
Decker and Darhad rose, acknowledging the dismissal.
*
“What's eating him?” Zack asked her when they were alone in the passageway.
“I believe our captain is most unhappy about the change in orders. I also think his secret instructions contain much more than he has told us. Maybe we shall find out when we arrive, maybe not. Put it out of your mind, for there is nothing we can do.”
Zack smiled at her resigned tone and briefly touched her. He hurriedly dropped his hand when Nihao Kiani appeared. She gave the two of them a strange look before she vanished into the captain's cabin.
“There's someone who will be just as unhappy about this news,” the gunner chuckled. “She won’t like the thought of dealing with supplies on a planet we've never been to. Heck, make that a place most humans have never seen. Do we have anything on the place in our data banks?”
“I shall verify. But I doubt it. Data costs creds and we don’t have the cash to spare for exotic bits of information, such as a planet that far from the regular trading routes. All we likely have are the coordinates and basic contact instructions.”
“Huh.” Zack frowned. “How the hell will we deal with people about whom we know nothing?”
“Perhaps we’ll be met by a human or at least an agent hired by humans, whose role is to handle the transactions. We shall find out when the time is ripe, no doubt. I must conduct my daily inspection now. Until lunch.” Her lips briefly twitched as she blew him a discreet kiss.
*
Shokoten sped on, coming out of the hyperspace currents every so often to recalibrate the hyperdrives and plot the next jump. They passed the border without incident and without sighting a patrol ship. The Navy was hard pressed in this sector, and their frigates were widely dispersed to cover as much space as possible.
Then they passed through the Badlands: pirate havens, techno barbarian kingdoms, and assorted riff-raff with the pretensions to high tech status. The Shield Cluster was the Fleet's nightmare and a treasure trove of illegal profits for anyone with the means to exploit them. Slavery was rife and skilled humans fetched the highest prices; the drug trade flourished, and markets for plundered goods of all kinds abounded.
A ship like Shokoten was an attractive target even if she was well armed, and it paid to be prudent. Decker slept easier when the worst of those worlds were far in their wake. Marauders tended to operate between the Cluster and the Commonwealth where high-end shipping was densest.
The length of the trip, however, began to tell on the crew by the time they passed the Rhada system. They were not used to such long runs without setting a foot ashore, and life in the cramped quarters of a ship without recreational facilities became tedious. More than once, Zack had to break up arguments that got out of hand, but he could do nothing to ease the underlying cause, which was boredom and acute cabin fever, mixed with knowing they were very far from home.
He kept himself busy with physical training when he could no longer find any duties to keep his hands and mind occupied. With Strachan's permission, he converted a small, unused cargo hold in the upper hull into a gym, scratch building the exercise gear, and tinkering with the room's gravity. Word spread, and soon, Nihao Kiani, Raisa Darhad, Fourth Officer Gareth, and the bosun joined him whenever they could.
*
“You know,” he said one afternoon, when he and Nihao were alone in the mini-gym, “the one thing I miss is the martial arts sessions we used to have aboard Musashi. Pumping iron and skipping rope in high gee is fine to build up muscle, but doesn't do shit for reflexes.”
He laid down his improvised barbell and wiped the sweat from his brow. Nihao glanced at him with her usual bland expression and, never missing a stroke, kept on skipping as she replied.
“I can offer you with an adequate sparring partner in judo, tae-kwon-do, karate, and aikido.”
Zack ran his eyes over her tall, muscular body and nodded, a grin spreading on his face. She looked tough enough to give him a decent fight.
“Okay, kid. What and when?”
“When is now. What is whatever you wish.”
“Aikido?”
“Agreed.” She stopped skipping and coiled up the rope. “I suggest you bring the gravity back to normal, or we may inflict permanent injury on each other.”
They cleared out a fighting space in the center and laid out a thick rubber mat normally used to cushion fragile cargo.
Standing at opposing ends of the mutually agreed arena, they came to attention and bowed stiffly at each other. Then, they took up a fighting stance and circled, looking for an opening. Nihao's eyes never left Zack's, and the gunner found himself forced to judge his moment by trusting his peripheral vision. And whatever he could read in the purser's impassive face, which was absolutely nothing.
She struck first, throwing Zack off balance and sending him crashing to the ground. He rolled, absorbing the punishing fall, but didn't rise fast enough. Nihao's bare foot came out of nowhere and slammed down towards his throat, stopping within millimeters of crushing it. Zack conceded the point.
They faced each other again, circling, and Nihao attempted a similar trick, but this time, Zack was ready. He blocked her move and then used her momentum to put in one of his own. With a grunt, Decker threw her down and pounced as she tried to roll away. Catching her with his right arm, he struggled to establish a chokehold. Kiani let out a fighting yell and threw him off with surprising strength.
They scrambled up and resumed the slow dance, wise now to each other's abilities. Zack tried a lightning attack and completed half the movement, getting his body into position near her to deliver a disabling stroke, when she lashed out with a leg. He would never have been able to see it coming: she had such absolute control over her body and eyes.
The foot connected with Zack's solar plexus, slamming the air out of his lungs. He fell backwards and landed badly, both the kick and the fall stunning him. Nihao was on him in a flash, her strong right arm tightening around his neck, and there was nothing he could do.
Black dots danced before his eyes, and he slapped the mat in the universal signal of surrender, but her grip didn't loosen. His vision blurred, and he heard a ringing in his ears.
Finally, just as he was about to pass out, she released him, letting his head drop on the mat. Another face replaced Kiani's sweaty brow
“Are you all right, Mister Decker?”
Zack blinked once or twice, and Raisa Darhad's worried frown swam before his eyes.
“Okay,” he croaked. “Just a friendly bout.”
“I would suggest Mister Kiani needs to learn a bit more about setting the right limits,” she replied, speaking in a louder tone for the benefit of the stone-faced purser. “Martial arts are as much about control as they're about fighting. Or do I have a wrong idea about your human practices?”
“No, sir,” Kiani replied.
“Let it be,” Zack said as he rose, rubbing his chest and neck. “I was outclassed by someone who is obviously sensei. That'll teach me to assume a civilian spacer isn't as highly trained as a Marine.”
“Well met, Nihao.” He bowed. After a few moments hesitation, as if she suspected him of sarcasm instead of taking the words at their face value, she returned the bow.
“You must teach me how you manage not to telegraph your moves. I didn't see that kick coming. You could've killed me right there and then, had this been for real.”
She bowed slightly again, an ironic smile playing on her lips. “I could have killed you, had I not exercised self-control.”
Darhad's lips tightened, but she held her peace.
Zack picked up his towel and wiped his face.
“This did me a lot of good, even if it hurt like hell.” He grinned at the two women. “We must do this again another time, Nihao. I’m always ready to learn from my betters.” He nodded at Darhad. “If you’ll excuse me, First Officer. I think I’ll go lick my wounds in private now.”
*
Later, in the shower, Zack watched a large, purple bruise spread over his chest and remembered her chokehold. She'd been a lot rougher than usual in a sparring match, and could easily have killed him had she held on to his neck for much longer. That thought brought on another, less pleasant one.
Did she let go because she knew it was time, or because Raisa walked in on them? He did tap the mat a few times. And why would Nihao Kiani want to harm him, if that was the case?
His train of thought broke when Kiani stuck her head into the small shower cubicle.
“Don't take all day in there, Zack, or I shall throw you out.”
“Come in and join me.”
“Very well.” She opened the door and stepped in.
The stall was so small their bodies filled it almost completely, and Zack couldn't avoid touching her, with the expected results. To his astonishment she grabbed him and guided him in, releasing a soft sigh as they joined. Her lips crushed his, and their tongues met. She was utterly different from Raisa: heavier, stronger, wilder, and more demanding.
Where the Arkanna shared with Zack, giving and taking, Kiani only took greedily. But she felt good nonetheless. Until that is after they climaxed, and Zack remembered that he had a previous engagement with one Raisa Darhad.
I guess I can always say that I was raped by Nihao, he thought, feeling weak-kneed. He disentangled himself and grinned at her.
“Thanks for that unexpected bout of the post-combat sport. For what it's worth, I'd rather do this than fight you. Anytime you want a rematch...”
She smiled back, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
“I suggest we rinse off and head to our appointed duties,” she replied, all business again.
And I love you too, kid. Zack felt irritated at her off-hand tone. He didn't expect declarations of undying lust, but somehow, she had made him feel used.
Without another word, they washed and returned to the cabin. For the rest of the day, Kiani acted as if nothing had happened. Zack, however, on closer reflection, wondered about her. Did the bout of martial arts turn her on, or was it the sight of his and Darhad's growing intimacy? They made no secret of their relationship, even if they kept it off Shokoten.
Whatever it was, he realized that he would be better off without a repeat performance, no matter how deprived he became. Something about Nihao was definitely bothering him.
Soon enough, Decker had more pressing issues to deal with. During the night watch, Shokoten came out of hyperspace in the Ventos system. Less than twelve tense hours later, the freighter slipped into orbit around the distant, alien world.
