Faring Soul - Science Fiction Romance (15 page)

“Sixty-four minutes,” he said
flatly.

Lilly opened her mouth to protest, then
shut it and nodded. Her face was pale.

Catherine didn’t have time to talk
after that. It was the most crowded and short jump prep she had
ever been through and only the mild comfort of knowing that Brant
was watching their rear stopped her from melting down
altogether.

Bedivere accelerated all the way to the
gates, which were closer than normal to the planet because there
were so many gravity wells in the system that gate placement was a
logistics nightmare. It made the jump even more precarious, but the
closeness was going to help them, this time.

They passed through into the wormhole
the gates generated with the carriers close behind. As the
soundless, featureless hole engulfed them, Catherine sat back in
the chair, all her muscles weak. For a moment she couldn’t
move.

“Why didn’t they fire on us?” Brant
said. “They’re military carriers. They’d have nukes and more on
board.”

“They want me alive,” Catherine said
sourly. “That’s why they tried to take out the ship first, instead
of just lobbing the bomb on our picnic blanket.” She stirred and
looked at Lilly. “You. In the rec room. Now.”

Lilly’s eyes widened, but she nodded
and followed Catherine off the flight deck.

Brant and Bedivere came behind.

The dinner table was still covered with
the remains of their preparations for the picnic. Most of it had
toppled and spilled, or had slid right off onto the floor. None of
them had been expecting to take flight before they returned to the
mess. Catherine made note. Next time, clean up
first
.

She confronted Lilly, as Brant slid
into the room around Bedivere, who stayed in the doorway, which
happened to block any way out and also happened to put him right
behind Lilly.

“It’s nothing personal,” she told
Lilly. “But the only way the Federation could possibly have known
we were on Sunittara was if someone told them.”

Lilly’s mouth dropped open. “You think
I
am working for the Feds?”

“I know that Brant isn’t. I also can
personally account for his every move since Bedivere landed us on
Sunittara and surprised us with the picnic. You, however,
disappeared into the engineering section after we landed.”

Lilly shook her head. “I’m not
Federation! I swear! There was another warning light showing. I
wanted to check on it because Bedivere said he was going to keep
the engines on trickle while we were dirtside. That’s
all
!”
She backed up as she spoke, until she rammed into Bedivere, who
gripped her arms.

Lilly looked up at him over her
shoulders, her eyes wide. “What if there’s some sort of tracker on
the ship?” she asked.

“There isn’t,” Bedivere said
flatly.

“A passive one, that only activates
when beckoned.”

“It’s not possible to plant any sort of
electronics in the ship,” Catherine said. “We would know.” She
shifted closer.

Lilly tried to move backward, but
Bedivere kept her grounded.

Brant shifted in toward Lilly, too. She
drew in a sharp breath.

“I can deliver a lot of pain before you
pass out,” Catherine said softly. “I won’t like doing it, but I
will because you’re threatening the safety of my ship and everyone
on it.”

Lilly bit her lip. She was trembling.
“I’ve told you everything!”

“You like to spend a lot of time down
in engineering, tinkering around,” Brant said softly. “If anyone
could jury-rig a squirt signal, you could.”

“Bedivere, take her into the surgery,”
Catherine said. “I can wash that room down easier than this
one.”

He almost lifted her off her feet and
Lilly kicked and struggled. “Wait! Wait!”

Bedivere put her on her feet again, his
fingers digging into her arms.

Lilly licked her lips. “I’m Aneesh, all
right? I would sooner spit on the Feds than tell them
anything.”

“Aneesh?” Brant said, sounding stunned.
“A College cleric,” he added softly.

“I’m just a beginner,” she said
urgently, quickly. “I’m a Tridith, that’s all.”

“Cadfael College. That explains the way
you think,” Brant said softly.

“They made me take engineering
training—I don’t know why. But even before I’d finished, I was
presented to one of the Eistav. She told me I was going to put the
training to use. She told me about you and the ship and that I
should get a job with you. You were advertising. Word had
passed.”

“You were to spy on us?” Catherine
asked.

“Just general reports,” Lilly said
quickly. “Profiles, mostly. And I haven’t sent anything for months.
I never even told them where you were going because I
didn’t
know!
”

Catherine hesitated. “The College and
the Federation are traditional rivals,” she said. “Sometimes
outright enemies. It doesn’t make sense that an Aneesh would report
to the Federation.” She looked at Lilly. “I want to see the reports
you sent. All of them. Who were you reporting to?”

“One of the Eistav. I don’t know which
of the three. They don’t mix with Tridith.”

“Describe her,” Catherine said.

“Tiny. With big brown eyes and masses
of silver hair.”

“Nephele,” Catherine concluded. “Well,
that fits. She was the one that directed the disaster on
Egemon.”

Brant drew in a sharp breath. “The
College
arranged that?”

Catherine gave him a sour smile.
“That’s something the Ammonite
don’t
want you questioning.
Where their orders come from is a well-buried secret. Welcome to
the real world, Brant.”

He shook his head, not in disbelief,
but in sorrow.

“Let her go, Bedivere,” Catherine said
tiredly. “She can go and get her reports. You’ll know if she
deviates from the direct path to engineering, or if she tries
anything cute like sabotage.”

Lilly rubbed her arms. “You didn’t ask
why I haven’t sent a report in for months.”

“I don’t care.”

“It turns out that the only people I
really trust are on this ship.” Lilly gave a sour grimace. “You
tell the truth whether it will be welcomed or not.”

“Not always,” Catherine told her and
waved her away.

Brant sat on the nearest chair with a
heavy exhalation. “Well, hell.”

“Read the reports when she brings them
back, please,” Catherine told him.

He nodded.

Catherine looked at Bedivere. “Your
turn. Do you want to do it here or somewhere else?”

Bedivere touched his chest. “Me?”

“I can leave,” Brant said, getting
up.

“No, stay if you’re comfortable. Lilly
will come back here,” Catherine said. She crossed her arms, looking
at Bedivere. “Two seconds. Here, or go?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why do
we have to talk at all?”

“Here, then,” Catherine said. “Do you
want to tell me what the hell you were thinking of, when you
dropped on top of me out there?”

Bedivere’s eyes widened. “I was
protecting you.”

“You’re supposed to protect the
ship!”

“I did. That blight bomb would have
completely destroyed it. I got it out of the way!”

“You thought of me first, though,”
Catherine insisted.

Bedivere stared at her and his jaw
flexed. “That’s my job,” he said woodenly. “Above all, protect the
passengers and crew.”

“If this ship was still the commercial
carrier it was designed to be, that would be fair. But it stopped
being that not long after I bought it.” Catherine shook her head.
“The ship is your absolute first priority. Without the ship, we all
die.” She wondered why she was getting angry. She could feel the
heat and fury rising in her, like a thermostat about to blow its
top.

Bedivere’s eyes were glittering. He was
angry, too. “So what was I supposed to do today? Sprint for the
ship and let the drones take the three of you?”

“Whatever you did or might have done,
it should not have included shielding me from that bomb. You’re not
invincible, Bedivere!”

And that, she realized, was the root of
the problem. He had taken risks for her. He had risked himself. The
fear she felt, even in retrospect, made her feel a little ill. That
was why she was angry. How dare he make her feel like this!

He took a step closer to her and the
fury in his eyes was all too clear. Catherine fought the need to
step back away from him. She lifted her chin and looked him in the
eye.

“It’s my body,” he said quietly. “My
decision. And I will go on protecting you whenever I can, because
that’s my privilege.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he
silenced her by kissing her.

It was unexpected. No, not expected,
for as soon as his lips touched hers, she realized that she had
been thinking about this the entire time he had been standing there
in front of her, defiant and stubborn.

But only in the back of her mind. Even
in her wildest imagination she had not let herself wonder what it
might be like. The thought had stayed buried.

Until now.

But the kiss was perfect. His lips
fitted against hers, warm and gentle, but there was strength there,
too. And when his big hand curled around the back of her head and
held her steady while he deepened the kiss, that was perfect,
too.

He was hot against her. Strong.

And abruptly, she realized exactly what
she was doing. She pushed herself away, breaking the kiss. The
motion of moving backward drew her attention to her limbs and how
weak she was. After centuries of indifferent and sometimes
interesting sex, what she was feeling now was almost
overwhelming.

She was shaking with it.

Bedivere was watching her with
puzzlement in his eyes. His chest was lifting, more quickly than
usual.

Behind her, Brant cleared his throat
loudly. “I would have left, but you’re both standing in the
doorway.”

Her cheeks heated. She was
blushing
, something that she thought she had forgotten how
to do.

Catherine moved around Bedivere and he
swayed out of her way. “Cat,” he said softly, but she shook her
head and kept going. Her stateroom beckoned, a safe haven from
everything, including her thoughts and her betraying body.

While Bedivere stood indecisively in the
doorway, Brant opened the locker next to the food dispenser and
pulled out the bottle of ten-year-old brandy he had spotted there
some weeks ago. The seal was broken, but barely anything had been
taken out of it.

“You look like you could use this,” he
said and poured two fingers and held the glass out toward
Bedivere.

Bedivere shook his head. “I should…”
But he stayed in the doorway. His expression was that of a man that
had just had his face slapped, or been sucker-punched.

Brant knocked back the brandy in one
big swallow, hissed and poured again. “We’re mid-jump and three
weeks from emerging. There’s no navigating or piloting to be done
and anything else that happens, Lilly can take care of it. Sit
down, Bedivere. Drink.”

Bedivere moved stiffly over to the
table. He bent and picked up the condiment dispenser off the floor
and put it back on the table. He straightened up the containers
that had slid across the top and fallen over, as Brant put the
glass in front of him and got a second out of the holder.

Brant pulled a chair around to that
side and sat down himself.

Bedivere rested his fingertips on the
rim of the glass. “I don’t normally do this.”

“Do what?” Brant asked curiously.

“Drink with others when I’m….” He
shrugged.

“You drink. I’ve personally poured you
into bed. Sit down, Bedivere. You’re not going to know how this
goes until you try it.”

Bedivere considered him. “Unburdening
my soul? Isn’t that what Staffers encourage? Confess your sins and
be forgiven?”

“It’s not my place to forgive you for
anything. You’re a grown man. You get to feel better by making
amends instead of asking for forgiveness. Will you sit down? You’re
making me uncomfortable having to crane my neck to look at
you.”

Bedivere looked amused. “So stand up.”
But he sat and picked up the glass and looked at it. “Never have
got to like brandy all that much.” He tossed the heavy-duty slug
back like it was water and didn’t even hiss. Then he pushed the
glass across the table, clearing a path through the detritus with
his fingertips and left it in front of Brant. “But I should give it
an honest try, shouldn’t I?”

Brant raised his brow and poured more,
then pushed the glass half-way back. He poured himself another few
fingers, to save the bother of pouring again later.

Bedivere picked up his. “So what
happens next? I get to spill my innermost thoughts while you nod in
agreement?”

“There’s therapists for that,” Brant
said. “I’m just having a drink. It’s been a long day.”

“It has,” Bedivere muttered and drank
some more.

“I’m curious, though,” Brant said. “Do
you kiss everyone to avoid an argument?”

Bedivere’s gaze stayed on his glass.
“Generally, I prefer kissing to arguing. Don’t you?”

“I haven’t kissed anyone in so long I
can’t even remember any more,” Brant said.

“Is that your way of asking for
one?”

Brant shook his head. “I don’t like
kissing someone I don’t know.”

“But that’s one of the best reasons to
kiss them.”

Brant sat back. “We’re not talking
about kissing anymore, are we?”

Bedivere grinned. “I like sex. I like
how quickly it lets you get to know someone.”

“I’d rather get drunk with you,” Brant
said flatly and pushed the bottle across the table.

“Not your type?” Bedivere picked it up
and poured.

“I don’t bed people who are emotionally
unavailable.”

Bedivere paused, the bottle in mid-air
He looked at him, startled.