Skyport Virgo 1 - Refuge (23 page)

Pike shrugged. "If you don't have it, you don't have it." He paused and trepidation tinged his voice when he spoke. "What will you do?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "The thought of apologizing to
him
and begging for is forgiveness makes me sick, Pike. The way he treated me—" Laleh stopped, unable to continue, refusing to think about those nightmarish years. "But," she sighed with resignation, "I can't go on looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life."

Pike's protective embrace tightened. "I know it's not a particularly glamorous compromise, Laleh. Just remember whatever you write is just the means to an end. Flatter his pompous ass and be done with it. We know the truth. That's all that matters."

Laleh allowed Pike to pull her back down onto the bed. She put her cheek against his chest and listened to the comforting thud of his heavy heartbeat. "I'll write the letter."

As if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Pike relaxed. "You've made the right choice."

The matter seemingly resolved, Laleh couldn't shake the unsettling feeling she'd just been played by Jai and her father. "I hope so."

* * * *

Luckily the unexpected arrival of the
Magellan
and its one surviving (and psychotic) crew member was the juicier bit of gossip. When asked, Laleh divulged what she'd learned from Pike. Her colleagues apparently knew all of that already and left her office looking decidedly disappointed. She'd simply shrugged and returned to her work.

The day sped by quickly. Laleh made a quick stop on the food court to pick up the takeout she'd ordered earlier and grabbed a bottle of wine from the gourmet food shop.

She stowed the wine in the fridge and dinner in the warming compartment above the stove.

Knowing Pike wouldn't be home for another hour or so, she turned her attention to the myriad of boxes crammed into their living room. She scanned the labels and shifted stacks until she found the crate holding her mother's things. Laleh dragged the box over to the sectional sofa and plopped down on a cushion. She unsnapped the latches and started sifting through the contents.

Her mother's favorite dress, a scarf, a beaded shawl—Laleh reverently placed the items on the cushion next to her. She'd kept only the most important things after her mother had died, donating the bulk of her clothing to a charity. There were random bits and pieces in the bottom of the crate. Laleh pulled out a stack of her mother's favorite books and some porcelain curios she'd found at an antique market. She found the napkin with her mother's first scrawled words, the handwriting childish and disjointed.

I am Safyra. This is my daughter, Laleh. She is my life
.

Laleh's throat grew tight as she ran her fingers over the paper and ink. The memory of her mother learning to print those letters remained fresh and real. Captain Boreanaz had come to their quarters aboard his ship every evening and taught them both English and writing. Laleh had soaked up the lessons like a little sponge, but her mother had faced more difficulty in learning. Since she'd never been afforded an education, learning to read and write at twenty-three had proven a bit more trying. Still, she'd done her best and practiced until she mastered her lessons.

Looking back, Laleh couldn't help but wonder if there had been something between her mother and Captain Boreanaz. At twenty-three, her mother had still been a fresh-faced beauty. She'd been far too young for a nine-year-old daughter. Would things have happened differently if her mother hadn't had a child in tow?

A pang of guilt infiltrated Laleh's conscience. Her mother had always chosen her child over her own needs and desires. Laleh found some comfort in the idea she'd accomplished everything her mother had ever wanted for her: an education, a respectable job, a loving husband and marriage.

Her thoughts drifted to the letter she'd drafted during her lunch break. The sycophantic, syrupy tone nauseated Laleh. She'd laid on the groveling rather thick. Even though she knew the letter was the only way to escape her past, Laleh viewed each word as an absolute betrayal of her mother's memory, of everything the woman had risked to save Laleh from a life as bleak and horrific as her own. If she could see Laleh now, would her mother understand?

Laleh's fingers swept over the tattered hardback cover of the book in her lap. She rolled her fingertips over the hard surface, the hollow tapping echoing softly. At first she didn't notice anything odd. It wasn't until the fourth time she'd rapped her fingertips against the cover Laleh realized it didn't sound quite right.

Curious, she lifted the book and glanced at its spine.
The Handmaid's Tale
, her mother's favorite book of all time. A classic, it had been among the first her mother had tackled after reaching an advanced reading level. She'd encouraged a then teenaged Laleh to read it. They'd both related to the dystopian novel on a deep personal level. To think a fictional story written hundreds of years earlier and, ostensibly, based upon the author's greatest fears of a theocratic world so closely mirrored their reality was disturbing.

Laleh cracked the cover and thumbed through the well-worn pages. A third of the way through the book, she discovered the secret it held. Her mother had carved out a small square and stuffed the jewelry inside. Laleh stared at it, wondering what in the world had possessed her mother to deface her most favorite book in the whole universe just to hide an ugly necklace and bracelet.

She retrieved the pieces from their hiding place and studied them. They had been created of the dullest coppery metal Laleh had ever seen. Visible hammer marks marred the small disks linked together by a series of looped metal rings. The style reminded Laleh of a chain mail exhibit she'd seen in a Houston museum years ago. There were no jewels, only the oddest markings lining the underside of the bracelet and necklace.

Even as a child, Laleh had noticed the glaring difference in the wedding jewelry her father had gifted to his other wives compared to what he'd given her mother. As the sixth wife, her mother had been rather low on the totem pole. The jewelry she wore every day seemed only to exacerbate her lowly status as it publicly marked her as less than the others. Privately, she'd been treated no differently.

"Why did you keep this?" Laleh wondered aloud. The collar and bracelet were the last tangible items linking them to her father's subjugation and abuse. Had it been up to Laleh, they would have been sold and forgotten. But surely the fact her mother had taken the time to hide them meant something. Why were they so important to her?

Laleh heard the front door open. As Pike footsteps approached, she hastily returned the jewelry to its hiding place and closed the book. Pike entered the room and swept his gaze over the room. As it settled on Laleh, he smiled. Warmth bubbled in the pit of her tummy. "Hi."

"Hey." He bent down and kissed her. "Did you find the jewelry?"

Without missing a beat, Laleh shook her head and frowned. "No. I guess she must have sold it."

Pike shrugged. "Oh well. Your father will just have to deal with it."

"Yes."

Pike sniffed the air. "Dinner?"

"Waiting for us in the kitchen."

"Great. Since you cooked," he smiled slyly, "I'll set the table and put out dinner."

"Thanks." As he walked away, Laleh felt guilty for lying to him. She'd have to tell him eventually. She just hoped she'd have a more concrete reason for keeping the jewelry than the pettiness and uncertainty now motivating her.

Laleh returned her mother's belongings to the box, placing the hollowed out book on top of the scarf. She joined Pike in the dining room and watched him dish heaping portions onto their plates. She scooted past him, smacking him teasingly on the bottom, and retrieved the bottle of wine from the refrigerator. A quick dash into the living room and she found two wine glasses in a box marked "kitchen."

Laleh sat down and splashed some wine into their glasses. "So how was your day?"

"Busy." Pike settled into his seat and picked up a fork. "I had to referee an argument between Karp and a bioethicist over Karp's desire to keep Lieutenant Ello sedated until he's completely physically recovered."

"Sounds fascinating," Laleh joked.

"You have no idea," he groused. "We hammered out a compromise. I swear I saw Karp stick out his tongue at her when they left my office."

Laleh laughed. "Boys!"

Pike playfully glared in her direction. He sipped his wine and shook his head.

"Spacefleet brass want the
Magellan
taken apart and studied. It's dry-docked in a service slot. I've got engineers going over it with a fine tooth comb. Who knows what they'll find?"

"Doesn't it strike you as a little creepy?" Laleh swirled the liquid in her glass. "I mean, this guy's been floating out there for years, probably alone, and then he just happens to limp into a skyport. It's so bizarre. What happened to his crew mates? How the hell did he keep that ship going? What's he been eating?"

"Not much by the looks of him," Pike said. "That's one of the reasons Karp wants him sedated. He needs to rehydrate and pack on some weight. It'll be easier to heal the lieutenant if he's knocked out."

"Makes sense." She pierced a steamed piece of cauliflower with her fork. "I wrote the letter."

Pike swallowed his mouthful and regarded her carefully. "Was it difficult?"

Her shoulders bobbed. "It wasn't the most fun I've ever had drafting a letter. I tried to channel my father's toadies. It seemed to work."

"When are you going to send it?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll need to hire an off-skyport courier service. He'll require a print copy."

"Not a problem," Pike said, gesturing with his fork. "I'll go with you to the mail depot. We'll send duplicates and require a receiver's signature. Just in case," he added.

"I'll just be glad to be done with it all."

Pike's hand slid across the table and grasped hers. "So will I."

Wiping a hand down his face, Pike sat back in his desk chair. He scratched just above his temple and yawned. While there were some bursts of excitement in his new position, his days were generally filled with tedious, mind-numbing work. He'd just gone through nearly fifty pages of acquisitions requests. Separating the needs from wants had been fairly simple. Tomorrow he'd tackle separating the absolutely-must-have-now requests from the can-wait-until-next-quarter requests. He frowned at the realization he'd have a line of angry department heads outside his door on Monday morning. They'd have all weekend to stew over his rejections.

Weelo entered the office, a stack of mail cards clutched in his hands. "These came via courier, sir."

Pike accepted the stack of blue cards. "Thank you."

"Will you be working late, sir?"

Pike knew his secretary wanted to head out for his weekly hot wings and beer get together. "I'm just about finished for the day. Why don't you head on out?"

"Thank you, sir."

As Weelo left, Pike flipped through the cards and scanned the sender's address. He paused as his gaze drifted over Melanya and Pilar's address. Wondering what they'd sent, he opened the blue case and gave it a shake. His eyes widened at the glittery red travel pass that fell onto his palm. They'd sent a two night pass to
Hedonisma
.

Pike snorted and shook his head. Leave it to Melanya to gift him with a weekend to a pleasure vessel with his wife. The thought of introducing Laleh to the kinkier side of sex play had him shifting in his chair. She'd proven to be an incredibly curious lover. A few times, he'd playfully suggested he might tie her up or introduce a sex toy or two. She'd turned up her nose at the ideas, but he'd seen the flash of excitement in her eyes.

Pensive, he fingered the pass. Ultimately the decision to visit
Hedonisma
was Laleh's choice. He wouldn't dare pressure her into visiting such a place. If she went against her will, she'd never enjoy the experience. Pike knew there were certain sections of
Hedonisma
they'd have to avoid. With Laleh's background, anything heavy in submission and domination might be upsetting.

But that was only a very small segment of the offerings at
Hedonisma
. There were so many other possibilities…

Settled on giving Laleh the pass and letting her make her own choice, Pike turned back to the remainder of the mail cards. Trepidation seized his chest at the sight of the Hezman postal code on the second and third cards. For a little more than a week, he and Laleh had been anxiously awaiting any news of the receipt of her letter. He quickly snapped open the blue case and plugged the small yellow card into his transmitter. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as Laleh's father's response flashed onto the screen.

Satisfactory.

It was over. Finally.

Pike pocketed his transmitter and shut down his workstation. He grabbed the stack of mail cards and left his office, desperate to tell Laleh the good news.

* * * *

Laleh dictated spoken notes as she skimmed the surveys she'd gathered from her week of Sandrino seminars. Some responses annoyed her. Others were actually useful.

Apparently her teaching style seemed too academic for the workplace. Laleh rolled her eyes at that but accepted she needed to lighten up a bit when presenting these workshops.

The needs of Federation and Spacefleet personnel were vastly different than those of university students.

A chirp interrupted her reading. Laleh glanced at her widescreen monitor. A few days earlier, she'd scanned in some of the symbols on the back of her mother's wedding jewelry and had been running them through recognition software in search of an answer.

So far the program had tossed out a few similar symbols.

Laleh scooted her chair closer to the screen and studied the result. It was an exact match. Curious as to its origin, she touched the blinking square on the screen and enlarged the information. What she read didn't make sense. She blinked with surprise and reread the paragraph.