Hi!
Thank you kindly for all of the feedback. I really appreciate it! Sorry for the delay in posting this. My computer crashed and erased all of my writing. Yes, I lost some work, luckily not my pro stuff. And, I found this story so I can finish posting it, yay!
Thank you for your time in reading, and in leaving feedback, if you choose to.
Anna **
Chapter 3
Two days later, Harper bent over the Extrapolator, cursing softly. Empty Sparky Cola cans lay strewn around the room on the floor and teetered on the counters and the equipment. His hands trembled slightly from the combination of too much caffeine and mild sugar overdose and lack of sleep. He cursed again as the wire he was soldering fell from his tremulous fingertips. Frustrated, he tossed down the soldering iron and wire. He raked spot-burned and dirty fingers through his dusty, greasy hair that lay flaccid against his pasty skin. This project was taking entirely too long. It shouldn't be so difficult for a genius of his magnitude. He should've been finished in one day. Maybe Trance was right about sleep deprivation. Crap, maybe he was just getting old. He wasn't twenty-five any longer.
He stretched and shuffled backward. His back against the wall, he slid down to sit cross-legged on the floor and closed his burning eyes. He'd rest . just for a moment. His head spun. Weariness circled around him, waves of dizziness pounding his body. He could hear his heartbeat racing frantically inside his skull. Nausea and exhaustion warred for dominance. The smell of solder and metal made his stomach churn. Normally, these smells comforted him, but not this day. The floor seemed to open up, extend out clawed fingers and drag him downward. He felt himself slipping into a dreamlike state that was half awake, half unconscious. He couldn't fight it; he didn't want to.
Soft fingers tapped his shoulder, brushed against his cheeks lovingly. The cloying scent of a woman wrapped around him like a blanket of fog, clean and nutty, with a touch of sweet fruit and spices, like a distant childhood memory he held of his mother, like Sophie was in his imagination. He cracked open burning bleary eyes to see a woman leaning over him, her long dark chestnut hair gently swinging back and forth. She smiled angelically.
"Sophie," he murmured giving her a tired, woozy smile.
"No," she whispered gently with a faint trace of humor, "Trance." She reached out and brushed stringy hair back from his forehead.
He frowned, eyes half closed, forehead furrowed in confusion. He tried to wrap his exhausted mind around her words. "Huh?"
She giggled softly, like a cascade of tiny bells. "You're half-asleep, Seamus. You really should treat your body better and not stay up for three days straight. You're going to put yourself back in the infirmary."
He blinked rapidly, her plum face coming into focus. Concern softened her large, dark eyes. Briefly, it occurred to him that she was very beautiful. She always had been. He forced back the thought. She was his best friend and off-limits. He sat up straight, clarity infusing his face. "Yeah, well, I was busy. You know me." Blinking rapidly to bring the world into focus, he took her proffered hand and let her pull him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily.
She tsk, tsked, shaking her head. Spangles and tiny flowers in her headband sparkled in the light. Her tawny hair stuck up in spikes that made him reel with envy. "Harper, as Acting Medical Officer, I have to order you to go to bed. You really need it."
"No!" He shook his head violently, causing him to stumble dizzily. "I'm near an epiphany, Trance. I know it! I just know it! I can't leave now or I'll lose all the momentum I've built up. I don't want to forget it all again."
"You probably won't remember much anyway." She raised a skeptical brow, pursing her maroon stained lips. "After a certain number of hours of wakefulness, the body stops recording information." She crossed her arms over her bosom.
He blinked at her uncomprehendingly. "Look, I'm almost done. I can feel it."
She frowned, worried. She reached out and smoothed his hair with gentle, long-nailed fingers as if he were a child. "Okay, but not for much longer. I don't want you getting sick again and you know you always get sick when you don't get enough sleep."
"Yeah, so?" He shrugged. She was right. He got sick every time he was sleep deprived. Shoot, he got sick every time the wind blew on him. "But I'm not a child and I don't care this time. This project is too important to me. I can sleep when I'm dead."
She regarded him sadly for a long moment. "I'll make you some chicken soup," she said and pulled him into her surprisingly strong arms for a quick hug.
"Okay," he acquiesced, enjoying the softness of her body.. Arguing would get him nowhere. He picked up his soldering iron, still hot and smoking, and dove back into his work.
She walked away slowly, gazing back at him with regret. "It's always important to you," she murmured.
He glanced at his notes then fit two more parts together, working feverishly, Trance forgotten again. The few moments of near sleep had rejuvenated his energy banks and given him renewed purpose. He'd finish this thing today if it killed him.
~~
Trance stirred the simmering soup slowly. She inhaled deeply the rich, invigorating scent. Chicken soup was the ultimate comfort food. She was thankful that her mother had taught her how to make it so many years before. She could easily have replicated the soup. It would have been finished and Harper would be eating now. However, she much preferred to replicate the raw ingredients and make the soup herself in the galley. Somehow, it always tasted better to her. She added a pinch of thyme. The replicated soup was always missing something...something her mother said could only be added by the cook...two stirs hope, three stirs love.
She smiled. This ought to make him feel much better and stave off illness for a while. Chicken soup was proven medicinal and she added extra herbs she knew enhanced those properties.
The door to the galley swished open. Dylan strode in, stopping short. "Umm," he said, closing his eyes. "Smells like Grandma's house. What's cooking, Trance?"
"Chicken soup. I think Harper's getting sick again."
"Surprise, surprise." He crossed to stove and stared over her shoulder into the steaming pot. The golden liquid swirled around her wooden spoon, tiny bits of green and red herbs dancing wildly in the sparkling amber liquid. He closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply, absorbing the healing steam. "Ah. I could stand here all night."
Trance chuckled.
"Is there enough for two?"
"You and Harper?"
He leaned his elbows on the counter beside the stove and gave her a lopsided grin, blue eyes twinkling with good humor. "Yes."
She grinned at him, cocking her head and peering down at him coyly through long lashes. "Of course. I always make enough for everyone. Harper gets the first bowl, though."
"You're a blessing, Trance, a real blessing." He took two thick plastic navy blue bowls from a cabinet and set them on the counter beside the stove, licking his lips. He gaze was riveted to the cook pot.
"Thank you," she said, dipping into the soup and filling both bowls.
"No, thank you." He took up the bowl and began to slurp the hot soup, blowing on it a little to cool it.
"Careful, hot, hot," she admonished.
He nodded quickly, sucking in air to cool the steaming soup in his mouth. He swallowed and set the soup down, stirring it to cool it. "But oh so yummy!"
She set Harper's bowl on a tray with napkin, spoon and crackers, then pushed the tray aside. She leaned back against the counter and regarded Dylan seriously. "So, now that the Xixu have signed the treaty what are we going to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are we, like, going to hang out here or immediately go in search of another system to join us or what?"
Dylan crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, trying to figure out her point. It was a difficult thing to do with Trance. Her roundabout speech was as convoluted as a labyrinth. Sometimes it was just better to defer to her. "What else should we do?"
She shrugged, glancing nervously around the room. "Well, the tension level on the ship is really really high and Harper's getting sick and truthfully, I'm kind of bored myself. So, maybe we could go somewhere and relax. Take a break."
"Shore leave?"
She nodded quickly, a smile brightening her elfin features. "Yes. For all of us. As Chief Medical Officer, kind of, I think it would do us all a lot of good, even Beka even though she hates weather and planets and stuff."
He chuckled. Shore leave, was that all? "Okay. Any ideas on who has the best restaurants?"
"No, but I thought maybe Andromeda would have information on the local systems and planets in her database. Someplace really close would be nice. Then we could get there quickly."
"I'll have her locate a nice, quiet place." He smiled and placed a light, friendly pat on her back.
"With dancing? For Beka...she really needs it right now even if she won't admit it."
"Sure." He picked up his bowl and spoon.
"And shopping?"
He shot her a surprised look, so much for peace and quiet. "You got it."
"Great!" She laughed, bounced in place and returned to her soup, shutting off the stove and picking up Harper's tray.
Dylan watched her leave, shaking his head. She was an enigma. Sometimes she seemed innocent as a child; sometimes he felt she was manipulating him, yet couldn't prove it. He hated to think he was a puppet in a grand play, but somehow, knowing that someone else could see the big picture was comforting.
The door whooshed shut. He sipped his soup, making soft contented noises. One thing Trance could do was cook.
~~
Beka curled up on her bed beside the view port. Outside, the stars drifted by lazily as the Andromeda cruised along at sublight speed. She assumed Dylan was taking his time picking their next prey, the next system he'd pound with diplomatic rhetoric until they either agreed to join the Restored Commonwealth or gave him the boot out of their region of space. At the moment, she didn't care.
She was horny and the book she was reading only made that worse. She desperately needed a man. Sure, she could take care of part of the problem herself, but where was the fun. the challenge in that? And it wasn't as though she always needed a man, she wasn't a tramp or addicted or anything. It had been a while... a long while. Being trapped in close proximity onboard the ship with two well-developed males, Dylan and Tyr, was enough to drive any woman a little stir-crazy. Not that she would admit it, of course. That would be a sign of weakness. She knew the other females onboard looked too, and were just as affected. Each dealt with the attraction in their own way.
She clicked the button to change the page, licking her lips, breathing heavily in anticipation. Her fingers trembled slightly at the passion brought on by the story.
*"Amelia allowed her head to fall back in total submission to his workings. Slowly, he unbuttoned the pearl heart-shaped buttons on her blouse...."*
Down the hallway, a loud curse echoed through the Andromeda's corridors. Beka started, jarred from her book. She glared at the door to her quarters. The corridor outside it was quiet. She turned back to her novel.
*"Each inch that he descended was sweet agony. Amelia buried her fingers in his long, thick dark hair, gently scraping her nails along his flesh and licking...."*
There was a loud crash in the hallway. Beka bared her teeth at the door, willing whoever was creating the racket to spontaneously vaporize. The hall was quiet. Shaking her head in annoyance, she continued to read.
*"Perdue glanced up at her then, savoring the scent of her, the taste of her sweet sweat, the sheer joy on her face. He ran his fingers along her body. She arched her back in response to his touch. He laughed deep in his throat. She shivered. He-"*
An argument broke out in the corridor not far from Beka's room. Two male voices shouted at each other. Metallic clangs and the sounds of objects being tossed about echoed through the ship. She snarled in frustration, slamming her flexi-novel down onto the rumpled comforter on her bed. She flung herself toward the door, determined to wreak havoc on those who disturbed her.
As she stepped from her door a thick flexi spun toward her head. She ducked and it hit harmlessly down the hall, sliding out of sight. She watched it go then whirled on the offenders.
"What in the blazes are you two doing?" she demanded.
Harper flashed her a wide-eyed, defiant look. His dark blond hair stood in wild spikes, dotted with black clumps of oil.
Tyr took advantage of his distraction to snag the diminutive engineer's shirt and heft him into the air. Harper's feet dangled a yard above the metallic deck. He kicked wildly and snarled at the tall Nietzschean, fighting like a feral cat.
She blinked rapidly. The sculpted Nietzschean wore only a towel, wrapped precariously around his narrow hips. He resembled an ancient Greek statue come to life. Instantly, she felt amused by the situation and a bit guilty because she didn't feel sorry for Harper at all. Desire welled up inside her. Tyr in a towel slung low on his hips was not what she needed to see in her condition.
Tyr leaned his face close to Harper's and said in a low, dangerous voice, "Where is it, Little Man?"
"You're not getting it back, Goliath. I need it! Put me down or kick you in the jewels. I'm at the perfect height, you know." His gaze flickered down meaningfully.
The huge man didn't waiver his gaze. He stared into Harper's shifting blue eyes. The quietness of his face was more frightening than anger. Even angry, he seldom lost control. He was capable of snapping the young man's neck in an instant.
Harper swallowed hard. Maybe this time he had pushed the large man too far. Nietzscheans were warriors, after all, and only concerned with their own needs and desires. Tyr had boarded the ship as a mercenary. He still kept his allegiances to himself. Harper shivered in fear.
Beka crossed her arms over her chest. "Put him down," she snapped, already tired of the game.
Tyr didn't react. He pressed Harper more forcefully against the wall. The small Earthling coughed from the pressure.
"TYR!" Beka shouted in her most authoritative tone.
The Nietzschean straightened, releasing some of the pressure, still holding the human high.
"Down. Now," Beka growled through gritted teeth.
Without looking at her, he dropped Harper. The younger man hit the floor hard, landing in a heap, coughing and rubbing his aching chest.
Beka strode over to them, towering over the engineer as he lay on the floor trembling. "Give whatever it is back and stop acting like children." She stood beside Tyr, peering at him from the corner of her eye. Her skin tickled on the side that faced him. Her face tingled. With a burst of anger she realized she was probably blushing. She had the unreasonable urge to reach out and snatch his towel away, to run her fingers along his well- defined chest. She could see now that it was damp. Tiny droplets of water clung to his dark skin. They glittered like tiny white diamonds, flashing and distracting her. He smelled intoxicatingly of soap and a scent that was all his own, feral and dangerous. Her stomach clenched with hunger.
Harper put on an innocent look, leaping to his feet indignantly. "Beka, I'm hurt. You think I stole something from him? I-"
She smirked in patent disbelief.
"I needed it, y'see. Really needed it," he blabbered, seeing that she wouldn't buy a lie.
"Your project?"
"Another useless compilation of gadgets. A waste of time and resources," Tyr snapped, towering menacingly over Harper.
Beka shifted uncomfortably at his proximity. The bare skin of his arm was mere inches away. Her peripheral vision gave her a wonderful view of his bulging pectoral muscles, rippling and flexing as he spoke. She felt dizzy.
Harper glared at him. "Yeah, my project." He turned toward Beka. "The one you loved so much with your dinner every night for the past three days, Beka, Miss First Officer, Miss Play-Screechy-Guitars," he reminded her. "It's almost fixed. I just needed the Sarliaonic wiring that he had and wasn't using, by the way, for anything but a decoration on the wall."
She shook her head imperceptibly in exasperation. She didn't really care about Harper's little situation. What was she, a dog in heat that she couldn't concentrate when standing next to a man? A tall, well built, manly- she gritted her teeth and forced herself to focus on the small man glaring up at her. "It's a vital component?"
"Yes. The wiring has unique elements. It should prevent the burnout I've been experiencing and fix everything."
She stared at him for a long moment, mind racing. She turned to Tyr, looking up into his deceptively soft brown eyes, trying desperately to ignore the fact that only a thin towel separated her from his birthday suit. She licked her lips and tried to swallow in a suddenly dry mouth. "Tyr," she croaked and cleared her throat. "Is this thing really so important or is it just a sentimental bit of wires?"
His brow furrowed momentarily when he looked at her face for the first time. "It was simply a bracelet woven by natives on Drexl IV. Sentimental at best. The point is that the little weasel was in my quarters without permission."
Beka shot Harper a dark look, aware that the man beside her was staring at her strangely. It annoyed her to no end. "Harper, ask next time," she snapped, "Don't steal things or I'll let Tyr have fifteen minutes alone with you." She waggled her eyebrows meaningfully then turned back to Tyr, meeting his eyes levelly. "Can you let it go this time? He's outta his mind from lack of sleep."
An amused look crept across his burnt sienna features. He glanced at her up and down, even sniffed once. He straightened slightly, thrusting his chest muscles closer to her face, his towel closer to her hips. Though not touching, he was obviously aware of how much his appearance was affecting her. He took an interminable time to respond. "He may have it. This time." He leaned closer to her. "Are you aware," he said slowly and softly, "that your face is flushed, Captain Valentine? Your pulse is racing, your forehead lightly frosted with hot sweat? Are you ill? Feverish, perhaps?"
She met his eyes quickly, noting the knowing twinkle in them, the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of his lush mouth, and squared her shoulders defiantly. "Nope. Nothing wrong with me. Just a perfectly normal, healthy HUMAN woman."
He'd told her before that, as a human woman, she wasn't proper breeding stock for him. Her DNA wasn't good enough. But then, a Nietzschean woman's main destiny in life was to have lots of children to further her Pride. If she didn't further the Pride, she was ostracized. Tyr was the last surviving member of the Kodiak Pride. He was driven to have superior children.
Not that he's making any headway on that, she thought bitterly, he had no children that she knew of. Not that she wanted to have his children, or anyone's children. Damn him for making her think about all this! Her fingers shook as he stared into her eyes, gripping her gaze as surely as if he had clutched her chin in his fingers. It was almost as though he could read her thoughts, smell her confusion. Hell, as a Nietzschean, he probably could. Damn, damn him! As they stood there, gazes locked, she thought she heard Harper shuffle away muttering about finally being finished, but she wasn't certain.
Tyr stared deeply into her eyes until she began to tremble. Then the grin flourished on his face even as fiery passion flared in his deep chocolate eyes. Then he turned to go. She saw it...she was certain she saw passion echoed in the subtle lines of his face, in his eyes. She swore she heard him chuckle as he left. Berating herself and breathing raggedly, she couldn't tear her gaze from the sway of his hips under the towel as he swaggered away. Man, she really needed to get off this ship!
TBC.
Thank you kindly for all of the feedback. I really appreciate it! Sorry for the delay in posting this. My computer crashed and erased all of my writing. Yes, I lost some work, luckily not my pro stuff. And, I found this story so I can finish posting it, yay!
Thank you for your time in reading, and in leaving feedback, if you choose to.
Anna **
Chapter 3
Two days later, Harper bent over the Extrapolator, cursing softly. Empty Sparky Cola cans lay strewn around the room on the floor and teetered on the counters and the equipment. His hands trembled slightly from the combination of too much caffeine and mild sugar overdose and lack of sleep. He cursed again as the wire he was soldering fell from his tremulous fingertips. Frustrated, he tossed down the soldering iron and wire. He raked spot-burned and dirty fingers through his dusty, greasy hair that lay flaccid against his pasty skin. This project was taking entirely too long. It shouldn't be so difficult for a genius of his magnitude. He should've been finished in one day. Maybe Trance was right about sleep deprivation. Crap, maybe he was just getting old. He wasn't twenty-five any longer.
He stretched and shuffled backward. His back against the wall, he slid down to sit cross-legged on the floor and closed his burning eyes. He'd rest . just for a moment. His head spun. Weariness circled around him, waves of dizziness pounding his body. He could hear his heartbeat racing frantically inside his skull. Nausea and exhaustion warred for dominance. The smell of solder and metal made his stomach churn. Normally, these smells comforted him, but not this day. The floor seemed to open up, extend out clawed fingers and drag him downward. He felt himself slipping into a dreamlike state that was half awake, half unconscious. He couldn't fight it; he didn't want to.
Soft fingers tapped his shoulder, brushed against his cheeks lovingly. The cloying scent of a woman wrapped around him like a blanket of fog, clean and nutty, with a touch of sweet fruit and spices, like a distant childhood memory he held of his mother, like Sophie was in his imagination. He cracked open burning bleary eyes to see a woman leaning over him, her long dark chestnut hair gently swinging back and forth. She smiled angelically.
"Sophie," he murmured giving her a tired, woozy smile.
"No," she whispered gently with a faint trace of humor, "Trance." She reached out and brushed stringy hair back from his forehead.
He frowned, eyes half closed, forehead furrowed in confusion. He tried to wrap his exhausted mind around her words. "Huh?"
She giggled softly, like a cascade of tiny bells. "You're half-asleep, Seamus. You really should treat your body better and not stay up for three days straight. You're going to put yourself back in the infirmary."
He blinked rapidly, her plum face coming into focus. Concern softened her large, dark eyes. Briefly, it occurred to him that she was very beautiful. She always had been. He forced back the thought. She was his best friend and off-limits. He sat up straight, clarity infusing his face. "Yeah, well, I was busy. You know me." Blinking rapidly to bring the world into focus, he took her proffered hand and let her pull him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily.
She tsk, tsked, shaking her head. Spangles and tiny flowers in her headband sparkled in the light. Her tawny hair stuck up in spikes that made him reel with envy. "Harper, as Acting Medical Officer, I have to order you to go to bed. You really need it."
"No!" He shook his head violently, causing him to stumble dizzily. "I'm near an epiphany, Trance. I know it! I just know it! I can't leave now or I'll lose all the momentum I've built up. I don't want to forget it all again."
"You probably won't remember much anyway." She raised a skeptical brow, pursing her maroon stained lips. "After a certain number of hours of wakefulness, the body stops recording information." She crossed her arms over her bosom.
He blinked at her uncomprehendingly. "Look, I'm almost done. I can feel it."
She frowned, worried. She reached out and smoothed his hair with gentle, long-nailed fingers as if he were a child. "Okay, but not for much longer. I don't want you getting sick again and you know you always get sick when you don't get enough sleep."
"Yeah, so?" He shrugged. She was right. He got sick every time he was sleep deprived. Shoot, he got sick every time the wind blew on him. "But I'm not a child and I don't care this time. This project is too important to me. I can sleep when I'm dead."
She regarded him sadly for a long moment. "I'll make you some chicken soup," she said and pulled him into her surprisingly strong arms for a quick hug.
"Okay," he acquiesced, enjoying the softness of her body.. Arguing would get him nowhere. He picked up his soldering iron, still hot and smoking, and dove back into his work.
She walked away slowly, gazing back at him with regret. "It's always important to you," she murmured.
He glanced at his notes then fit two more parts together, working feverishly, Trance forgotten again. The few moments of near sleep had rejuvenated his energy banks and given him renewed purpose. He'd finish this thing today if it killed him.
~~
Trance stirred the simmering soup slowly. She inhaled deeply the rich, invigorating scent. Chicken soup was the ultimate comfort food. She was thankful that her mother had taught her how to make it so many years before. She could easily have replicated the soup. It would have been finished and Harper would be eating now. However, she much preferred to replicate the raw ingredients and make the soup herself in the galley. Somehow, it always tasted better to her. She added a pinch of thyme. The replicated soup was always missing something...something her mother said could only be added by the cook...two stirs hope, three stirs love.
She smiled. This ought to make him feel much better and stave off illness for a while. Chicken soup was proven medicinal and she added extra herbs she knew enhanced those properties.
The door to the galley swished open. Dylan strode in, stopping short. "Umm," he said, closing his eyes. "Smells like Grandma's house. What's cooking, Trance?"
"Chicken soup. I think Harper's getting sick again."
"Surprise, surprise." He crossed to stove and stared over her shoulder into the steaming pot. The golden liquid swirled around her wooden spoon, tiny bits of green and red herbs dancing wildly in the sparkling amber liquid. He closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply, absorbing the healing steam. "Ah. I could stand here all night."
Trance chuckled.
"Is there enough for two?"
"You and Harper?"
He leaned his elbows on the counter beside the stove and gave her a lopsided grin, blue eyes twinkling with good humor. "Yes."
She grinned at him, cocking her head and peering down at him coyly through long lashes. "Of course. I always make enough for everyone. Harper gets the first bowl, though."
"You're a blessing, Trance, a real blessing." He took two thick plastic navy blue bowls from a cabinet and set them on the counter beside the stove, licking his lips. He gaze was riveted to the cook pot.
"Thank you," she said, dipping into the soup and filling both bowls.
"No, thank you." He took up the bowl and began to slurp the hot soup, blowing on it a little to cool it.
"Careful, hot, hot," she admonished.
He nodded quickly, sucking in air to cool the steaming soup in his mouth. He swallowed and set the soup down, stirring it to cool it. "But oh so yummy!"
She set Harper's bowl on a tray with napkin, spoon and crackers, then pushed the tray aside. She leaned back against the counter and regarded Dylan seriously. "So, now that the Xixu have signed the treaty what are we going to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are we, like, going to hang out here or immediately go in search of another system to join us or what?"
Dylan crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, trying to figure out her point. It was a difficult thing to do with Trance. Her roundabout speech was as convoluted as a labyrinth. Sometimes it was just better to defer to her. "What else should we do?"
She shrugged, glancing nervously around the room. "Well, the tension level on the ship is really really high and Harper's getting sick and truthfully, I'm kind of bored myself. So, maybe we could go somewhere and relax. Take a break."
"Shore leave?"
She nodded quickly, a smile brightening her elfin features. "Yes. For all of us. As Chief Medical Officer, kind of, I think it would do us all a lot of good, even Beka even though she hates weather and planets and stuff."
He chuckled. Shore leave, was that all? "Okay. Any ideas on who has the best restaurants?"
"No, but I thought maybe Andromeda would have information on the local systems and planets in her database. Someplace really close would be nice. Then we could get there quickly."
"I'll have her locate a nice, quiet place." He smiled and placed a light, friendly pat on her back.
"With dancing? For Beka...she really needs it right now even if she won't admit it."
"Sure." He picked up his bowl and spoon.
"And shopping?"
He shot her a surprised look, so much for peace and quiet. "You got it."
"Great!" She laughed, bounced in place and returned to her soup, shutting off the stove and picking up Harper's tray.
Dylan watched her leave, shaking his head. She was an enigma. Sometimes she seemed innocent as a child; sometimes he felt she was manipulating him, yet couldn't prove it. He hated to think he was a puppet in a grand play, but somehow, knowing that someone else could see the big picture was comforting.
The door whooshed shut. He sipped his soup, making soft contented noises. One thing Trance could do was cook.
~~
Beka curled up on her bed beside the view port. Outside, the stars drifted by lazily as the Andromeda cruised along at sublight speed. She assumed Dylan was taking his time picking their next prey, the next system he'd pound with diplomatic rhetoric until they either agreed to join the Restored Commonwealth or gave him the boot out of their region of space. At the moment, she didn't care.
She was horny and the book she was reading only made that worse. She desperately needed a man. Sure, she could take care of part of the problem herself, but where was the fun. the challenge in that? And it wasn't as though she always needed a man, she wasn't a tramp or addicted or anything. It had been a while... a long while. Being trapped in close proximity onboard the ship with two well-developed males, Dylan and Tyr, was enough to drive any woman a little stir-crazy. Not that she would admit it, of course. That would be a sign of weakness. She knew the other females onboard looked too, and were just as affected. Each dealt with the attraction in their own way.
She clicked the button to change the page, licking her lips, breathing heavily in anticipation. Her fingers trembled slightly at the passion brought on by the story.
*"Amelia allowed her head to fall back in total submission to his workings. Slowly, he unbuttoned the pearl heart-shaped buttons on her blouse...."*
Down the hallway, a loud curse echoed through the Andromeda's corridors. Beka started, jarred from her book. She glared at the door to her quarters. The corridor outside it was quiet. She turned back to her novel.
*"Each inch that he descended was sweet agony. Amelia buried her fingers in his long, thick dark hair, gently scraping her nails along his flesh and licking...."*
There was a loud crash in the hallway. Beka bared her teeth at the door, willing whoever was creating the racket to spontaneously vaporize. The hall was quiet. Shaking her head in annoyance, she continued to read.
*"Perdue glanced up at her then, savoring the scent of her, the taste of her sweet sweat, the sheer joy on her face. He ran his fingers along her body. She arched her back in response to his touch. He laughed deep in his throat. She shivered. He-"*
An argument broke out in the corridor not far from Beka's room. Two male voices shouted at each other. Metallic clangs and the sounds of objects being tossed about echoed through the ship. She snarled in frustration, slamming her flexi-novel down onto the rumpled comforter on her bed. She flung herself toward the door, determined to wreak havoc on those who disturbed her.
As she stepped from her door a thick flexi spun toward her head. She ducked and it hit harmlessly down the hall, sliding out of sight. She watched it go then whirled on the offenders.
"What in the blazes are you two doing?" she demanded.
Harper flashed her a wide-eyed, defiant look. His dark blond hair stood in wild spikes, dotted with black clumps of oil.
Tyr took advantage of his distraction to snag the diminutive engineer's shirt and heft him into the air. Harper's feet dangled a yard above the metallic deck. He kicked wildly and snarled at the tall Nietzschean, fighting like a feral cat.
She blinked rapidly. The sculpted Nietzschean wore only a towel, wrapped precariously around his narrow hips. He resembled an ancient Greek statue come to life. Instantly, she felt amused by the situation and a bit guilty because she didn't feel sorry for Harper at all. Desire welled up inside her. Tyr in a towel slung low on his hips was not what she needed to see in her condition.
Tyr leaned his face close to Harper's and said in a low, dangerous voice, "Where is it, Little Man?"
"You're not getting it back, Goliath. I need it! Put me down or kick you in the jewels. I'm at the perfect height, you know." His gaze flickered down meaningfully.
The huge man didn't waiver his gaze. He stared into Harper's shifting blue eyes. The quietness of his face was more frightening than anger. Even angry, he seldom lost control. He was capable of snapping the young man's neck in an instant.
Harper swallowed hard. Maybe this time he had pushed the large man too far. Nietzscheans were warriors, after all, and only concerned with their own needs and desires. Tyr had boarded the ship as a mercenary. He still kept his allegiances to himself. Harper shivered in fear.
Beka crossed her arms over her chest. "Put him down," she snapped, already tired of the game.
Tyr didn't react. He pressed Harper more forcefully against the wall. The small Earthling coughed from the pressure.
"TYR!" Beka shouted in her most authoritative tone.
The Nietzschean straightened, releasing some of the pressure, still holding the human high.
"Down. Now," Beka growled through gritted teeth.
Without looking at her, he dropped Harper. The younger man hit the floor hard, landing in a heap, coughing and rubbing his aching chest.
Beka strode over to them, towering over the engineer as he lay on the floor trembling. "Give whatever it is back and stop acting like children." She stood beside Tyr, peering at him from the corner of her eye. Her skin tickled on the side that faced him. Her face tingled. With a burst of anger she realized she was probably blushing. She had the unreasonable urge to reach out and snatch his towel away, to run her fingers along his well- defined chest. She could see now that it was damp. Tiny droplets of water clung to his dark skin. They glittered like tiny white diamonds, flashing and distracting her. He smelled intoxicatingly of soap and a scent that was all his own, feral and dangerous. Her stomach clenched with hunger.
Harper put on an innocent look, leaping to his feet indignantly. "Beka, I'm hurt. You think I stole something from him? I-"
She smirked in patent disbelief.
"I needed it, y'see. Really needed it," he blabbered, seeing that she wouldn't buy a lie.
"Your project?"
"Another useless compilation of gadgets. A waste of time and resources," Tyr snapped, towering menacingly over Harper.
Beka shifted uncomfortably at his proximity. The bare skin of his arm was mere inches away. Her peripheral vision gave her a wonderful view of his bulging pectoral muscles, rippling and flexing as he spoke. She felt dizzy.
Harper glared at him. "Yeah, my project." He turned toward Beka. "The one you loved so much with your dinner every night for the past three days, Beka, Miss First Officer, Miss Play-Screechy-Guitars," he reminded her. "It's almost fixed. I just needed the Sarliaonic wiring that he had and wasn't using, by the way, for anything but a decoration on the wall."
She shook her head imperceptibly in exasperation. She didn't really care about Harper's little situation. What was she, a dog in heat that she couldn't concentrate when standing next to a man? A tall, well built, manly- she gritted her teeth and forced herself to focus on the small man glaring up at her. "It's a vital component?"
"Yes. The wiring has unique elements. It should prevent the burnout I've been experiencing and fix everything."
She stared at him for a long moment, mind racing. She turned to Tyr, looking up into his deceptively soft brown eyes, trying desperately to ignore the fact that only a thin towel separated her from his birthday suit. She licked her lips and tried to swallow in a suddenly dry mouth. "Tyr," she croaked and cleared her throat. "Is this thing really so important or is it just a sentimental bit of wires?"
His brow furrowed momentarily when he looked at her face for the first time. "It was simply a bracelet woven by natives on Drexl IV. Sentimental at best. The point is that the little weasel was in my quarters without permission."
Beka shot Harper a dark look, aware that the man beside her was staring at her strangely. It annoyed her to no end. "Harper, ask next time," she snapped, "Don't steal things or I'll let Tyr have fifteen minutes alone with you." She waggled her eyebrows meaningfully then turned back to Tyr, meeting his eyes levelly. "Can you let it go this time? He's outta his mind from lack of sleep."
An amused look crept across his burnt sienna features. He glanced at her up and down, even sniffed once. He straightened slightly, thrusting his chest muscles closer to her face, his towel closer to her hips. Though not touching, he was obviously aware of how much his appearance was affecting her. He took an interminable time to respond. "He may have it. This time." He leaned closer to her. "Are you aware," he said slowly and softly, "that your face is flushed, Captain Valentine? Your pulse is racing, your forehead lightly frosted with hot sweat? Are you ill? Feverish, perhaps?"
She met his eyes quickly, noting the knowing twinkle in them, the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of his lush mouth, and squared her shoulders defiantly. "Nope. Nothing wrong with me. Just a perfectly normal, healthy HUMAN woman."
He'd told her before that, as a human woman, she wasn't proper breeding stock for him. Her DNA wasn't good enough. But then, a Nietzschean woman's main destiny in life was to have lots of children to further her Pride. If she didn't further the Pride, she was ostracized. Tyr was the last surviving member of the Kodiak Pride. He was driven to have superior children.
Not that he's making any headway on that, she thought bitterly, he had no children that she knew of. Not that she wanted to have his children, or anyone's children. Damn him for making her think about all this! Her fingers shook as he stared into her eyes, gripping her gaze as surely as if he had clutched her chin in his fingers. It was almost as though he could read her thoughts, smell her confusion. Hell, as a Nietzschean, he probably could. Damn, damn him! As they stood there, gazes locked, she thought she heard Harper shuffle away muttering about finally being finished, but she wasn't certain.
Tyr stared deeply into her eyes until she began to tremble. Then the grin flourished on his face even as fiery passion flared in his deep chocolate eyes. Then he turned to go. She saw it...she was certain she saw passion echoed in the subtle lines of his face, in his eyes. She swore she heard him chuckle as he left. Berating herself and breathing raggedly, she couldn't tear her gaze from the sway of his hips under the towel as he swaggered away. Man, she really needed to get off this ship!
TBC.