Chapter Three

"Wasn't that Sergeant Wilkson?"

Malcolm turned back to Claire as the doors slid shut on the swaying hips of the slave girl. The muted hiss seemed to break the spell she had over the crew, all except Trip, who was staring as if in a daze at the far side of the room.

Malcolm tried to remember what she had said. "Excuse me?"

"Wasn't that Sergeant Wilkson?" Claire repeated slowly and good-humoredly.

"I think it was," answered Malcolm, attempting to recall the hulking guard. "How did he get his skin that color? It wasn't paint."

"Dolichos concentrate," Phlox piped up. "It's a sea plant from Argrotis IV. Very nutritious, a liter will supply all your dietary needs for the day. In large, or concentrated doses, it turns your skin green. I don't think the Sergeant will be eating for the next few days," the doctor added with a chuckle.

"Really." Malcolm digested this information as Claire hid a grin behind her hand. "Who was the lady?"

Pursing his mouth, Phlox looked up at the ceiling before shaking his head. "You figured out Sergeant Wilkson by yourself, but I'm afraid I must keep the lady's identity a secret."

"It shouldn't be too hard to figure her out," Claire said logically. "Whoever's green tomorrow."

Phlox remained silent on that, and Malcolm glanced around the room to find Trip still looking at the door, now with a puzzled expression. Excusing himself from his companions, he went over to stand next to Trip.

"Commander?"

"Who is she? I know I know her somehow…" Trip trailed off.

"Are you going? It's been ten minutes."

"What?" Blinking at Malcolm, Trip looked at him like had had never seen him before.

"She said to meet her in your cabin in ten minutes."

"Right!" Trip took off, leaving a very amused Malcolm in his wake.

Trip paused before his cabin door, his hand reached out to enter his security code. Instead, he rang the chime, and waited.

The door slid open, the woman's companion filling the frame. Trip wasn't a short man by any means, but he still had to look up to meet the hostile gaze leveled at him.

"Let him in, Benin." Her voice was soft and chiding from within the room, and Trip felt his pulse begin to race at the sound. A low, annoyed rumble came up from Benin, but he moved aside, and Trip stepped into what he had thought was his cabin.

Half of the room had been draped in fabric, the material's muted jewel tones made richer by the flickering candlelight coming from the far wall, and two serviceable place settings graced his worktop.

The woman sauntered toward him; nothing had changed about her, but in this light, in this setting, knowing she was there for him changed her in Trip's eyes. She seemed even more exotic somehow, and the slight likeness to someone he thought he knew had disappeared.

"You may go, Benin. I know you have your own duties to attend to." The slave girl and her guard stared each other down, but in the end he gave way to the slighter woman, leaving with a curt nod of his head.

"Own duties?" Trip asked, only half-curious. The green skinned witch in front of him captured nearly all of his attention.

The woman shrugged, and ran a hand over his chest, smiling at the feel of the hard muscles under the thin shirt. "I'd rather not talk about him." Lifting her eyes to Trip, he fell into their dark depths, forgetting all about Benin and where he was going.

She glanced over at the partially open bathroom door, and Trip noticed clouds of steam rolling out of it. "I started a shower for you," she said, "why don't you get out of this silly costume and hop in. When you're done we'll eat." The woman peeped up at him through her lashes again, and her teeth came out to close over her lower lip as she sighed and dropped her eyes. Trip felt like he had been stripped with that one sweeping glance.

Hopping on one foot and then the other, he quickly shed the boots, pants, and shirt as the slave girl helped. The feel of her slim fingers over his skin drove him on, and he almost tore the material off himself trying to get away from her arousing touch.

Trip had just started to take off his boxers before he remembered where he was and whom he was with, specifically his cabin and a fellow crewmate. Giving the woman a sheepish grin he ducked into the sauna like bathroom and then into the stall.

The shower was hot, just how he liked it, and as he scrubbed himself down Trip wondered how the woman had known. Although, most people liked a hot shower, he rationalized as his skin became pink from the inattentive scrubbing and the near boiling water.

Thoughts of her lead to remembering how she had looked when she fist stepped on the cargo crate, and in the candlelight when her guard moved aside, which led to the way her hands had felt on his skin just a moment ago. With a muffled curse at himself, Trip turned the hot water off and the cold to full blast, standing under the frigid spray until his body had backed off, albeit reluctantly.