A/N: Laptop be mine again! But this chapter didn't turn out quite as I was expecting. These darn characters keep acting up.
-o-
Beka was not certain the moment she met Dominique Mayae, but after a quarter hour's worth of conversation with the woman, she knew for sure. By the end of the day, she was even more confused about the investigation and the possible slaughter of the Volsung people, but she was humming with amusement and certainty.
In an effort to dress respectably but not uncomfortably, Beka had rummaged through every inch of wardrobe space on the Path. She had felt a little strange at first, digging through the clothes of people long-dead, but she tried to tell herself that it was just like a vintage clothing store, except it was free. Few people had actually died on board, she reminded herself, they had abandoned ship on the captain's orders and probably lived happily ever after.
Eventually, she had found what she thought was the perfect happy medium: soft, fawn-colored trousers that hugged her legs and a sleeveless tunic in maroon with buttons slanted across the collarbone. Her reflection in the mirror had tugged at a memory, but she ignored it. Charlemagne's surprised blink at her appearance should have alerted her, she thought later, but at the moment she had been too busy being nervous to think much of him.
Beka doubted she would ever forget the first five minutes of her acquaintance with Ms. Mayae. The airlock had opened with a hiss, and Beka had stridden out, feeling very proud of her ship and of Charlemagne, walking slightly behind and to her left. However much Beka had argued that this investigation was none of his business, he had insisted on accompanying her, claiming that he would serve as a reminder that she had powerful friends and could not be browbeaten or threatened. She only gave in because she suspected Darjella might side with him if pressed.
The temporary home of the Volsung was not much to look at, a wayward asteroid captured and deflected into orbit around Castalia. The hangar was roughly hewn from the greenish, brown-streaked rock, and to complete the unimpressive picture, Dominique was the only Nietzschean Beka had ever met who was shorter than her.
Then Dominique's lip had curled and she almost spat at Beka. "What is that?" she hissed.
Beka's glance went involuntarily to Charlemagne, but he looked almost as astounded as she felt. She looked back. "I… what?"
"Is this your idea of a joke, Captain?" Beka doubted she had ever heard the word invested with such dripping disdain.
Beka wanted to look down at herself to see if she had morphed into a Magog or something, but the same Beka as always met her eyes. "I promise you, it isn't," she replied, making no effort to hide the confusion in her voice.
Charlemagne took a step toward Beka and, though Dominique's eyes were trained on Beka, she threw up a warning hand. "Stay back, this is none of your affair." Slowly, she swung her gaze from Beka to Charlemagne, and Beka followed suit.
It was a very small comfort to see that he was just as perplexed as she was, wearing not a trace of a laconic grin on his face. "I see no need for your presence here at all, unless you believe I plan to harm Captain Valentine." Her voice could have frozen an exploding supernova. Charlemagne was speechless, mouth gaping slightly, so she continued. "Then if you do not fear for her life, I suggest you return to her ship and await her return."
He seemed to recover from his shock and made a deep bow first in Beka's direction and then in Dominique's. "Ladies," he murmured, and then left without a further word.
Beka stared after him. Never had she ever imagined she would see Charlemagne so thoroughly dismissed. And put his place, with Dominique's emphasis that the ship belonged to Beka. She was torn between running after him to give him a friendly hug and cheering.
After watching his retreating back for a moment, Dominique returned her attention to Beka. "You think I was too harsh with him?" she asked curtly.
Beka shook her head slowly. "No, it's not that. I've just never seen him shut up like that." She continued to stare, unable to help herself.
Dominique snorted. "I do not know him personally, but he has a reputation very like my Alpha's. I know how to handle such men."
Beka tore her eyes from the unique sight to regard Dominique more closely. Despite her surprise and vague discomfort, she found herself biting back a smile. Dominique did know to handle him, at that. An idea had planted itself in her mind and blossomed as the day continued.
She never did find out what had offended Dominique, Beka reflected as she made her goodbyes. They had passed a long day together, emotionally intense as Dominque recounted in a tightly controlled voice the Volsung's death toll and the hours that had led up to the explosion. She presented theory after theory about the origin of the explosion and later had flown Beka down to the site of the explosion, pointing out the bits of debris that had not yet fallen to the planet.
"The thing is," Beka recounted between bites later that night, "she has no evidence for any of it." She was sharing a late night supper with Charlemagne, who, under his usual lazy façade, was eager to hear every detail of her day.
"She doesn't need any, as far as any Nietzschean or anyone who understands us will tell you." He did not sound angry, though, he sounded like he was playing devil's advocate, presenting a logical argument to see how she would react.
"I know, I know," she replied. "Nietzscheans don't commit suicide. I'll never claim to understand you people, but I know that. Where's the life, there's hope, et cetera. But a platitude isn't gonna convince anybody that the Castalians masterminded genocide."
Charlemagne nodded. "Precisely. If not for that niggling little detail, I would dismiss the idea as ludicrous."
"You aren't helping."
They sat in silence for awhile, Beka thinking over everything she had seen and heard today. If she were honest, she would have to say that she had been a little disappointed by the display. Dominique Mayae was a deeply impressive character, but her arguments in favor of planned genocide had all boiled down to emotional exhibitions. Still, Beka was not going to make up her mind after a few hours.
She glanced at Charlemagne again and remembered the image of his retreating figure, shrinking to a doll beside the huge Path. Her mouth twitched in a smile. "I'm curious," she said suddenly, "what did you think of Dominique?"
Charlemagne tilted his head a little, the way he did sometimes when he tried to think of something clever to say. "It's difficult to know," he finally replied, "I was not permitted to bask in her presence for long."
After the stress of the day, Beka was glad for the laugh. "True enough. But come on, you can't tell me that you haven't formed some kind of first impression of her."
"My first impression is that it would be wise to defer judgment." He peered at her closely. "And why are you so interested in my opinion? You spent much more time with her and must know her better than I do."
Beka tried to suppress her growing amusement, but it was hopeless. He saw through her in an instant and chuckled. "Do you despise me that much, or do you simply have a twisted idea of marital bliss?"
She giggled. "She told me herself that she knows how to handle men like you, Charlemagne, and Divine know you need it. Come on, think about it. You don't need another girl from an enemy Pride to plot your assassination, which rules out the two largest Prides in the Known Worlds. She's very smart, catering to human sentimentality; she'll learn pretty soon that it's not gonna work on me. She badgered the Castalians into re-opening the investigation, and she badgered the Alpha into letting her represent the Volsung case."
Charlemagne sat back on the wide ledge by the viewscreen where they sat, staring at the overhead. Beka sparkled with energy and amusement, but his next words deflated her a little.
"I feel I must warn you that such a proposal is going to look very strange coming from you, Captain."
Beka felt herself flush and she glanced away hastily to the starscape. "She's not the type to worry about that. I don't think she would really care one way or another, to tell the truth."
He shook his head and looked at her. A grin danced on his lips. "You misunderstand me. The exact details of matchmaking vary between the Prides, but a few things are constant. The only women who ever make such an overture are a man's mother, his Matriarch, and his senior wife. If you drop the smallest hint that you desire her to marry me, she will assume that you are my lover."
Beka squeezed her eyes shut and fell with a thud against the low cushions. She rifled through her memories of the day, trying to recall if she had said anything Dominique might interpret in that light. She did not think she had, but the very idea made her panic a little. A moment later she opened them and glared at Charlemagne. "Well, it's not like you can't make the first move, Casanova."
He laughed outright this time. "In most prides, including Jaguar and Volsung, a man who aggressively pursues a woman is seen as extremely desperate. Like any breach of manners, such a misstep may be forgiven, but it is never forgotten."
"Extremely desperate?" Beka asked rather sharply. "But it's okay when you're harassing human women?"
He shrugged, still visibly amused at the idea of wooing Dominique. "Your human mores are impossible to predict. A little consistency would make your people much more universally liked."
"Why not, it worked so well for Nietzscheans," Beka muttered. When she caught Charlemagne's eye, he just smiled, and she chuckled, a little sheepishly. The tense moment had passed, if it had not just been in her head to begin with, and they were still friends.
After a moment of companionable silence, Charlemagne resumed the conversation. "I will not attempt to discourage you, Beka, but you must know how she will probably react. I'm sure you're quite mad for thinking of it, but there may be merit to the idea."
Beka pushed her plate to the floor, sat up again, and snorted much as Dominique had. "How flattering." She watched him, sprawled out on the windowseat as he often was at the time in the evening, and felt a strange tug in her chest. She knew her idea was a good one, but she would be the tiniest bit sad to see him leave, to lose this camaraderie. An urge to hug him swept over her for the second time that day.
He watched her watching him and closed his eyes under her scrutiny. "I'm sure you would hate to lie to such an admirable woman," he said lazily. "as much as you would hate to disappoint her."
She laughed, and the spell broke. "Get out," she ordered with a chuckle, "and take these plates with you."
He rolled gracefully to his feet, plates in hand, and made that same bow to her. "As my lady commands." As Beka had come to learn was his habit, he paused by the door for a parting comment. "One more thing. I believe I know why Dominique was so annoyed with you this morning."
Beka raised an eyebrow. "Well good, I'd like to know so I don't do it again."
"I thought it was quite funny myself, had no idea what to make of you."
She tapped her foot impatiently. "Don't keep me in suspense."
"That outfit you're wearing… which looks very becoming on you, I have to say… it's modeled on a High Guard uniform."
A glance in a nearby mirror confirmed it, and Beka wanted to smack herself in the head. "I knew it looked familiar! No wonder she hissed at me. Probably thought I was making fun of her or something."
When she looked away from the mirror, she saw that Charlemagne was now mimicking her, tapping his own foot.
"Was there something else?" she asked, a little annoyed but mostly amused.
He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Just a thank-you. I've just saved you from a major social faux pas, and what do I get?"
Beka lunged forward and, uncaring of the plates he held, hit him none too softly on the shoulder. "That's all you're going to get from me, Arch Duke," she said in mock irritation as she whacked him.
He fumbled and dropped the dishes, though Beka suspected he could have held on to them if he had really tried. The wicked grin he wore confirmed it. "There's only one way I'm leaving now," he said.
Beka scoffed and rolled her eyes, enjoying herself immensely. "Don't make me hit you again."
"Go ahead." He rubbed his shoulder and looked tragic. "Because I am going to remain right here in this very spot until you… what's the expression?... kiss it and make it better."
Oh, so this was his game. Soften her up, the previous day with pie and now with interest in her opinions, and then pounce. Well, she was not going to be pushed around by him anymore, Arch Duke of a major Pride or not. By the time she was through with him, he was going learn that once and for all.
She eyed his flimsy shirt for a moment and nodded. In one smooth motion, she gripped the collar and ripped as hard as she could along the tiny jeweled clasps that held the shirt closed. His eyes popped, and she had to make a very great effort not to laugh. She ran a hand under his arm and up the bare skin of his exposed back, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin. With a small step, she was pressed up against him and staring up him under lowered eyelashes.
"As my Lord commands," she purred. Standing on her toes, she kissed her way from his smooth pectorals to his shoulder. She lathed a slightly reddened area with her tongue and, upon hearing the almost breathless gasps he made, began sucking the spot. She hoped she would leave a hicky, though a moment later it occurred to her that Nietzschean nanobots might heal a bruise like that overnight.
She stopped her sensuous ministrations and looked back up at him, now almost face to face. His blue eyes were dark and slightly hazy as he returned her gaze. "All better?" she asked coyly.
He licked his lips and nodded. "Much."
"In that case," she said slowly, "maybe you should…" She paused as her hands crept up to his chest and came to rest, palms flat. Her lips curved. "Get the hell outta here and let me sleep," she continued in her normal voice as she shoved him, not hard enough that he fell but so forceful that he stumbled outside into the corridor. The hatch slid closed behind him with a hiss.
She laughed all the way through her nightly routine before she fell into bed, still laughing. A kernel of guilt lingered in her, though, and she could not sleep immediately for re-playing the scene over and over in her head. His body, firm against hers. Desire in his eyes. The endearing little noises of surprise and arousal he had made.
She turned over in bed and hugged a pillow hard. Well, uncomfortable as she was now, if he stopped trying to seduce her, she would count it worth a sleepless night. At least, she was pretty sure it would.