Forever's Not Enough (Galactic League of Planets) (6 page)

She scowled.
It would depend a lot on what you define as a crime
, she thought. Turning to the matter at hand her steps quickened.

At last. I’m coming, my love
. She tried her best to hide the soft purr that had started in her chest.

* * * *

He’d made it to the diplomatic level, but the going would be much tougher now. The hordes of people had thinned out and security D cameras and other sensors were everywhere.

Ducking into the main kitchen that sent meals out on carts to all the suites on this level, he smiled at a short round woman working at a food preparation table and kept on walking as if he owned the place.

Just as a chef’s hat appeared he ducked into a freezer, picked up a plastic crate of lettuce, and stepped back out. He hoped his black slacks and white shirt, no matter how crumpled, would keep him hidden until he could find the steward’s locker room.

* * * *

Standing in front of the detention cell watching a medic tend to the guard, her purr only intensified when she realized Sergeant Hillsborough must be in even more serious danger than she’d thought.

“I’m very sorry, Princess. It would seem your mate, well, and our traitor, has escaped.” A sliver of a smile appeared.

“My mate is no traitor! To anyone!” she declared, turning on him, her voice almost a guttural growl. “If he has escaped it is because he felt a need to. It is because he felt that his life was in danger.”

“Well, Princess…”

She wanted to scratch the man’s eyes out.

“Did it occur to you that he escaped because he’s guilty, and knows that he will be tried and executed?”

She could stand it no more. Her hand came up and she slapped Crenshaw so hard he rocked back on his heels. Her face was in his before he could straighten up. “I believe, Mr. Crenshaw, that you need to read up on your Meline history a little more because you obviously have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Crenshaw recovered a modicum of decorum, and back straight and stiff, jaw clenched, said in an ominous tone, “That, Princess, was a very serious mistake. In diplomatic circles striking a member of the diplomatic community is considered an act of war and you, Madame Ambassador, have just thrown the first volley.”

She refused to back down and leaned close enough she could smell the man’s foul breath, “I believe, Mr. Crenshaw, that has been the UC’s intention all along. You don’t care about the Meline. You only care about the helium 3 that lies on our ground like rocks and dirt lay on yours. And,” she said as she inched a little closer, “You shall not have it!”

Having recovered, his voice was ice when he asked, “Is that a threat, Madame Ambassador?”

“No.” She spun on her heel and started her retreat, throwing over her shoulder, “By Bast, it’s a promise!”

* * * *

“We must leave at once, Pran!”

Her purr had become completely uncontrollable.

“But, Princess, I have not finished preparations,” And looking behind the princess, she added, “And I believe we’re missing something.”

She swallowed to control her purring and cursed Bast again for her shenanigans. “We are missing nothing! We must leave everything and go to the transporter at once!”

“But, Peenzan…”

“I have decided,
” she began and swallowed again.
“The UC wishes to destroy our planet and we must return at once to inform the queen. If it is Bast’s wish, he will find me. If it is not, he will perish along with the rest of the stinking humans!”

* * * *

The steward kept his head down inspecting the dishes on his tray as he pushed his cart up the long corridor on the diplomatic level. Reading the order slip one last time as two UC corpsmen walked past discussing the escaped prisoner, he made a show of matching the number to the suite, straightened his white jacket, and rapped on the door.

Vigilant of any passersby, he rapped again and smiled at a maintenance woman as she walked past. After a third attempt, he quickly dug his nails under the edge of the hand scan plate, let it fall into his other hand, picked up a knife from the cart, and with a yellow spark as he shorted the contacts, opened the door.

Quickly pushing the cart into the foyer Hill fairly ran the length of the suite, looking in every room. The second time through he also looked in the closets.

“Damn.” He sat on the edge of the bed. He was amazed when his mind suddenly cleared, and while still present, his thoughts of her were no longer urgent.

Rolling into the bedspread he grabbed a pillow and breathed deeply. Yes, it’s her. His heart settled, and unfortunately, his cock swelled more. That’s when he saw it. A small envelope with six straight lines on the outside in opposing groups of three.

Holding it to his nose he smiled, then immediately frowned at what he was doing.

“Damn her to hell.” He wadded the paper up and threw it off the bed. When he scrambled after it as if it were the most valuable document in the galaxy, he had only himself to curse.

His hands shook as he straightened it carefully on the bed and discovered words he couldn’t read. Meline, he supposed and he cursed.

“Shit.” He snatched it up, stuffed it in his pocket, and stormed out of the bedroom.

Back at the main entrance he hit the manual release and slid the door open only an inch to check the corridor. When the hallway was clear, he moved quickly.

* * * *

It had taken more than two hours of ducking and skulking, but he’d finally made it to the cavernous engine bay at the stern of the galaxy class cruiser.

Hungry and shaking, curled in a ball in the corner of a tool room, he cursed himself for being in such a state, his body for betraying him, and the Corporation for labeling him a traitor.

Every time he tried to figure out what was happening with his body he would see her smiling face floating just out of reach.
She’s like a drug, damn it! No, she drugged me and this is withdrawal.

It was like she was inside of him tormenting him. His cock was so hard it hurt and the last time he’d tried to piss he almost couldn’t.

As much as he hated to, he pulled his balled fist to his nose and sniffed. He didn’t know why, but he’d discovered that smelling the note she’d left could calm him. Holding it balled tightly in his fist, he pulled it up again and pushed his nose in, drawing her fragrance deep until his quaking died.

This is bullshit
, he thought, and as if weakened by a long illness, he pushed against the wall and struggled to stand. Once his balance returned he straightened completely, breathed deep to clear his head, and tried to decide what to do.

He had to get off the ship. The question was, how? Transporter would be quickest, but the most difficult. A ship, something small, would be easiest, but given their location halfway between the Zandill system and his own solar system, he’d be stuck in deep space for at least two weeks in a small ship.

His hand relaxed around the wadded note and he stared at it in his palm.
And you
, he mused as he contemplated burning the piece of paper,
I can’t even survive an hour without you. Curse you, Princess!

Then he saw it. Well, he thought he saw it. A word in English. Sliding back down the wall, he squatted and worked at flattening out the piece of smudged parchment.

At first he just saw the odd scribbles in Meline, but turning the paper over, he found a note in English.

My darling,

First I must apologize for the hardship I know you must be going through. If it is any comfort, my love, I am suffering just as you are. There is no time to explain here. It is more important that you are safe. If you found this note, which I pray to Bast you did, then all is not lost. Now you must find me. I had to return to Meline without you. The void is filled with danger and I must protect the Meline people. You must come at once. I have written a note on the other side of this piece of paper that will explain who you are when you come through the transporter. Show it to whomever you should find and they will bring you to me.

Do not tarry, my love, I fear the war will start quickly. You are in the greatest danger and you must know that my heart travels with you.

With all my love,

Your Peenzan.

PS—I have left a part of me here. Keep it close, it will help.

My love? War? I have left a part of me…keep it close?
He cursed and kicked a plastic shipping crate. Sniffing the piece of paper, he decided again it was all some kind of germ warfare.

Well, one thing he did know for sure, it wasn’t safe here and if he was going to find an antidote, it was going to be on Meline.

Pulling the tool room door open an inch, he watched and waited.

* * * *

“I know, Mother!”

Her purring had only grown worse since arriving back at Meline.

“But why did you leave him?”

Peenzan paced from the splash of yellow sun on the polished stone floor back to her mother and turned to continue her prowl.

“I felt I had to! For Meline and our people!”

“Will you sit down and drink this! It will take hours for you to explain if you don’t stop purring!”

But it felt so good. It brought him close. And besides, she’d promised to suffer with him.

“I mean it, Peenzan. I know what you’re going through. Believe me, your father still drives me crazy. But you are of no use to the Meline people, or him, in this state. You must have a clear mind.”

Her mother was right and she relented. Setting the gold cup back on the table, she let go of his feeling in her chest and cleared her throat.

“Now, dear, you must go on.”

“Well, I feel I must discuss the chairman first. They have threatened war.”

And for an hour as the sun of Meline grew sleepy to the north, the queen and her princess sat quietly discussing what she had done and said.

* * * *

This was his third try, and as far as he knew, his last chance. He’d found the previous two transport portals heavily guarded and a D-projection of his head floating by the entrance with the word
Terrorist
in large letters beneath.

He’d decided the last place they’d look, the last place they’d think he’d go, would be back to the base quadrant where men and heavy equipment were moving on and off the ship constantly. And it had been easier than he’d thought it would be.

Ducking into the rear exit of the corps laundry, he’d stripped and thrown his old clothes away, careful to retrieve the note. Finding a pile of dirty uniforms, he’d searched frantically for something that came close to fitting, thrown it on, and picked up a discarded laser helmet and plopped it on his head, dropping the shield.

He had no idea who’d last used the uniform, but he smelt like a dead
rrunger
from the
jank
system and he considered trying to raid the depot for a clean one.

Deciding that was entirely too complicated, he walked through the showers and grabbed the first tags he could find. Stepping out, he took the main corridor past the arsenal and tried to grab an MR280, but there were too many troops around.

He’d only been outside his home system twice. One was when he was deployed to one of the moons around Zandill to take back a UC mining complex, and the other was now as part of the diplomatic protection unit for UC-1. He knew how transporters worked but didn’t really know anything about where he was going, or for that matter, which receiving transport node to select.

He loafed in a corner and pretended to be checking his watch while waiting for someone until one of the small troop transporters was clear.

Looking up the corridor, he saw a lull in people and equipment, and pulling his uniform as straight as he could, stepped away from the wall and sauntered up to the transport officer.

“Hey,” he called, keeping it casual.

When the kid snapped to attention, he glanced at his sleeve and realized he’d grabbed a lieutenant’s uniform.

“At ease, son.”

The kid dropped to parade rest and waited.

Everything was documented and inventoried, and he also knew this was the most dangerous part of his journey. With an air of authority that came natural and a booming voice that left the kid quaking in his boots, he stepped into the transport and yelled, “What the hell did you let them leave for?”

The kid just stared, wide eyed at whatever his mistake might have been.

“How the hell could you let them leave without their fucking lieutenant?”

Finally the kid found his voice, “Ah, sorry, sir. Who would that be, sir?”

“You know, that last bunch that went to Meline.”

The kid jumped and started jabbering, “Oh, sorry, sir. I thought their commander was with ’em. Yeah…” the kid said as he bent over a flat screen on a pedestal in deep concentration. “Right, here, it is right here. Lieutenant Billicks was with ’em, sir.”

His blood ran cold. It had only been a guess, but it had paid off. That meant Madame Ambassador’s letter was right. If not a war, then definitely some type of aggression was planned.

He tried to buddy up. “Isn’t that just like the corps, Private? Hell, they couldn’t freeze ice in the Blue Moon system if you gave ’em water! Tell ya what, kid, just send me on through and we’ll forget about it.”

“But, sir, I show the last six platoons went through in full camouflage and armed. Where’s your camouflage, sir?”

That got his attention. Stepping out of the transporter he noticed the kid had started looking at him funny. Walking up, he brought to bear the full weight of his physical presence and leaned over the kid’s shoulder to look at the screen.

“Well…well…well…sir, I mean, they were all set to fight. I just don’t want you stuck there without a weapon.”

Reading the screen, he ground his teeth loud enough the kid heard him when he saw over twenty-eight platoons had landed at the Corporation site on the Meline moon in the last twenty-four hours. He also saw a list of heavy armor and fighting craft. Omega?

“Placing his big hand on the private’s shoulder in a fatherly fashion, he whispered in amazement. “You know what, kid? You’re absolutely right.”