---

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It was a familiar dream and one that always left him with an empty ache upon awakening. He fought the rise in consciousness and held more tightly onto his fantasy, taking in the sandalwood scent of her hair, so soft against his face. And the warmth of her body, so neatly fitted against his, two spoons curved together. In his dream she sighed, arching her back and her round bottom pressing against him caused an immediate reaction of heat and hardness. He groaned her name, drawing her closer, his hand finding the swell of her breasts as he did so. He could feel the outline of something lacy through the fabric of her uniform and then his thumb found a gap and his fingers slipped inside, past the lace...

She stirred, let out a ragged breath as his finger traced that taut peak and he didn't know if it was the sound of her pleasure or the ever-present yellow data readout across his mind that alerted him to the chance that this might not be a dream:

Tactile Data Input—Subject female humanoid—approximately 38 years of age—body temperature 98.6—respiration fast—metabolic rate normal—

;Kel-Paten's eyes flew open. In his field of vision was a tangle of short, pale hair and an immense black starfield. And not another ship or station in sight.

“Oh Gods, Sass.” He said her name softly, carefully, remembering the bastard Serafino's comment about Sass's ‘mean right hook'. Serafino had telepathically caught Kel-Paten's own fantasy of making love to Sass, and his fear that, with death imminent, he'd never have a chance to.

Yet he didn't feel dead. But he knew if Sass woke up now, finding his hands placed where they were, there'd definitely be that mean right hook to worry about. Still, the intimacy of their position afforded him the opportunity to assure himself of her well-being. He opened his hand, slowly, let it rest against her chest and dropped quickly into full ‘cybe function, running a cursory med diagnostic on her through the sensors linked though his gloves. No internal injuries and only a slight bruising on her shoulders and back, probably from impacting the viewport. She'd be sore for a while, but nothing more.

He simultaneously ran his own diagnostics, expecting no damage and finding none. His brief lapse into unconsciousness, and hers, was due no doubt to a sudden drop in air pressure as life support had shut off and recycled back on.

He withdrew his hand, letting it come lightly to rest on her hip as she let out a small, “Oh!” then a louder “Oh, Gods!” and rolled over to face him.

Her eyes fluttered opened. Her face wore a slightly lost expression. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

She seemed to study him. “Yeah. Must have been a helluva bar fight. Who won?”

“I think we did.” He had the distinct feeling she had no idea who ‘we’ were.

“Hmpf!” She gave a short, low laugh. “Then the other guys must feel like shit.” She sighed, snuggling against his chest.

She definitely had no idea who he was.

The feel of her pressing so intimately against him destroyed what little prudent restraint he had left. He clasped her to him and was drawing her face up to meet his own when he felt her tense, her arms stiffening, He knew that she'd just realized who—and what—he was.

“Bloody damn!” she said.

“Are you all right?” He tried to make his voice sound as normal as possible, hiding the hard edge of passion in it much better than he was able to hide the hard physical response of his body to hers. He shifted position away from her, let his hand fall from her face to the slick surface of the viewport on which they lay.

She followed the movement of his hand. It looked as if they were lying suspended in deep space.

“Gods!” Sass sat up abruptly.

He pushed himself up as well, reaching for her as she wavered slightly. The cockpit of the shuttle was bathed in a red glow, casting eerie shadows on the total disarray of cables and floor tiles—floor tiles?—and seat cushions and panel covers and Doctor Fynn's boots—

“Eden!” Sass clambered over him onto the instrument panel before sliding to the floor. The CMO was curled peacefully around the base of the pilot's chair.

He pushed himself off the viewport and saw a suspiciously damp section of Fynn's shoulder length hair. He grabbed a medkit from a nearby panel.

“Let me take a look,” he told Sass as she searched for the med scanner. He laid his hand flat against Eden's face and then chest, much as he had with Sass earlier, and relayed to her what his diagnostics found.

“No major internal injuries. No broken bones.”

Sass flicked the scanner on, confirming his words with the unit's data.

“We lost life support briefly,” he told her, seeing the worry and concern on her face even in the dim lighting. “That's most likely why we lost consciousness. She'll come to shortly.”

Sass looked at him, her eyes a little wild. “Okay. Okay.” She drew a deep breath and nodded in what he understood were her thanks. “Okay. Let's get this ship stabilized. I can't work and walk on walls. I'll secure her.”

The Galaxus was only slightly skewed. A minor adjustment to her internal gravs—thanks the Gods that still worked!—fixed the problem, though there were a few strange clanks and thuds.

Together they moved Eden from under the chair and arranged the loose chair cushions around her. She'd already begun to stir, much as Sass had minutes before.

“Serafino? Where's—oh, shit!” Sass grabbed his arm and dragged him to the back of the cockpit where Serafino lay under a pile of rubble. “Wait ‘til I scan before you move anything!”

He crouched next to her, glanced at the data on the med scanner and then back at the man called Jace Serafino. A telepath. A Nasyry telepath. A thought-sucker with who-knew-what capabilities. He would've like to have believed Serafino was dead, but his brief glance at the scanner plus his years in combat told him he wasn't going to be that lucky. Serafino was alive. Injured but alive. Man had the proverbial furzel thirteen lives.

“Only a broken arm to worry about, so I think we can move this stuff,” Sass was telling him. She turned unexpectedly, caught the expression on his face before he could mask it.

“Don't look so damned disappointed that he's alive, Kel-Paten. He just saved your unworthy ass back there.”

She was defending Serafino—not only defending him, he thought as he carefully moved the debris, but had obviously taken Serafino's side even before they'd boarded the Galaxus. The laser pistol Serafino had pulled was Alliance issue, Alliance command issue and he doubted the doctor owned such a weapon. Sass had ordered Serafino to telepathically scan him, and he had, without question, without hesitation. Sass had known Serafino was Nasyry.

He had questions, a thousand questions, including whether Serafino, or Fynn, had told Sass about his feelings for her. But now was not the time.

Besides, he hadn't forgotten her comment about selling him as scrap. That, in many ways, told him all he really needed to know.

They supported Serafino's body in much the same way they'd secured Eden's. Sass collapsed awkwardly into the pilot's chair. It squeaked in complaint.

“What's our situation?” She ran one hand through her hair then turned to the damaged instrument panel at her station.

He leaned against the back of her chair, studied the data as she did. It told him virtually nothing that he couldn't discern with his own eyes through the viewport. They were alive and in deep space. Somewhere. Life support functioned, but minimally so, and only in the cockpit. The ship's structural damage was unknown, as was fuel reserve, engine status, their supplies.

The only good news was that the Illithian attack squadron had disappeared.

Sass turned her face towards him. “Can you spike in, or are the systems too far gone for that?”

He eased himself down in the co-pilot's chair, faced her and rested his elbows on his knees. “I can try. No promises.”

“Will it damage your systems? Kel-Paten—”

“No!” He turned abruptly away. Systems. Your systems. Not you. Your systems. He heard the words and hated them. “No,” he said again, suddenly exhausted. “There are safeguards. But I need to sit there,” he added, nodding to the pilot's chair.

She changed seats with him; he tried to forget she watched as he tugged down his right glove, sliding the small plasteel flap that covered his dataports to one side of his wrist. The arm of the pilot's chair housed an extendable pronged input line which fit neatly into his wrist and he pushed it in place with his thumb, his eyes momentarily closed as he put his ‘cybe functions fully on line.

When he opened them again, he was there, in the pilot's chair, but he was also in the ship—in the cabin, the engine compartment, the small storage bays. And outside where the vid monitors continuously scanned the ship's exterior. He let the data flow into him, scanning and sorting as need be and, at the same time, watched Sass from all different angles. He imprinted, as he had many times before on the Vax, imprinting her form into his cyber memory, into subdirectories of subdirectories he'd created that no one—not even Psy-Serv—could find and erase.

The image, this time, was a Sass he'd never seen before. Disheveled, tired and in pain. Worried. About Fynn, he surmised, as she kept glancing towards her friend on the floor. Once or twice she looked at him but he was in profile to her, seeing her not through his physical eyes but through the various monitor lenses in the cockpit.

Finally she unfolded herself from the chair and sat on the floor next to Eden, taking her friend's hand in her own and patting it absently.

He went back to work, very aware that the damaged, malfunctioning shuttlecraft he was linked to was the only thing keeping them all alive.

NOVALIS

The gray mists seemed a bit thicker this time. Eden telepathically felt him before she actually saw him. And when she did, her relief was so great that she ran across the short expanse and threw herself into his arms.

Jace! What's happened? Did we make it? Can you tell?

He held her tightly. We're fine. We got through, though I'll be damned if I know how.

Eden looked up at him, brushed a stray tear from her cheek. Are you okay? I remember you falling—

Broken arm, that's all.

She stepped back. You look fine— She touched both his arms and he laughed.

This isn't my physical self, love, though we can still have fun.

She blushed. Of course. She still had a difficult time adjusting to two worlds. And two existences. Can I start the healing process from here? She lay one hand on his chest. Which arm?

He held his left arm out to her. We can join our energies in healing. It may surprise you at the power you'll find there.

She ran her hand up his arm, wincing when she sensed the location of the break. I ... I can feel it! I can feel the break. How odd. Then she closed her eyes and sent healing energy to that area.

Jace lay his hand over hers, adding his energy to her own. A warmth flooded her. She'd never shared a healing before.

Then his hand traveled up to the back of her neck. You've got a bit of a lump there, Eden. He applied a light pressure. She was aware of the pain and then not. It was if he'd drawn it out of her.

I think I hit the bottom of Sass's chair, she told him.

Ummm, he agreed. She's worried about you. He looked over her shoulder as if seeing something but she knew there was nothing there.

The Tin Soldier's working on the ship, he continued. He's spiked in, making himself useful though he's most uncomfortable doing it around her.

Around Sass? Eden questioned. I've noticed that, too.

Jace nodded. Poor Tin Man. If only he had a heart, isn't that how the ancient children's fable goes? He drew Eden back against him, lightly kissing the top of her head.

I thought I lost you, he said suddenly, his voice rough. She felt an ache in him, a frisson of fear, an anger at being caught so helpless.

She held him tightly then sighed as his mouth left a hot, wet trail down her neck. He was breathing heavily—odd how even an incorporeal body could exhibit those sensations!

Eden, I thought I'd lost you! he repeated, but this time his voice cracked. He pulled her against him with such force that she let out a small, startled cry. He held her that way for a long time, his face in her hair and it was only when she finally began to pull away that she realized he, too, was trembling.

She thought it was just herself.

She gently touched his face. It was wet.

He'd been crying.

Jace— she started, but he hushed her and kissed her fingertips.

You tell a soul about this, young lady, and I'll pull down those pretty lace panties of yours and give you a good spanking! He smiled, but it was a watery one.

Don't tempt me, she teased softly.

You tempt me, he told her and then kissed her fully, in control again, the pressure of his mouth on hers insistent, demanding.

She nibbled on his lower lip and he groaned. Oh, Eden, Eden. There's work to be done and all I want to do is play with you. He looked in the distance again. Your friend's worried. We shouldn't do this to her. The Tin Soldier, well, he's wished me dead a hundred times already. But Sass is upset. So go wake up and tell her we're fine. He touched her face three times, temple, cheek and chin.

And ended by brushing his mouth lightly across hers.

It was getting to be a rather nice ritual.

GALAXUS COCKPIT

Sass saw Eden's blue eyes flutter open.

“Hey,” Eden said weakly.

“Hey, yourself, Doc. No more Wine Fizzles for you. You're flagged.” Sass grinned. “How's the head? You have some tomato juice leaking out there.”

“Throbbing, but it's getting better. I ... we took care of that.”

“Ah-hah.” Sass glanced back at Serafino's quiet form. “Wondered what took you so long. He has—”

“A broken arm. Left. I know.” Eden struggled to sit up. “We're working on that, too. And you?” She accepted Sass's hand in assistance. Sass knew it was for more than just support. Her CMO often did quick med scans with a touch. Her next words confirmed that had been part of her reason. “Last time you felt like that was in that bar fight in Port Bangkok. The one where the Garkal hit you with the bar stool.”

“While my back was to him, coward!” Sass said and then sighed. “Wondered why this felt so familiar. Odd how the mile markers in my life are a collection of bar fights.”

She stood, and pulled Eden up with her. “He's checking on the damage,” she said with a nod to where Kel-Paten sat behind them. “Can you wake Serafino up? Maybe he can give us a hand, even if he's only got one useable one.”

She held the med kit out to Eden, who accepted it with a nod and turned her attention to Serafino. Sass went back to the front of the cockpit and sat again in the co-pilot's chair, her legs crossed underneath her. Kel-Paten watched her, his eyes that luminous blue-green.

“Doctor Fynn is fine.” His voice, when he was spiked in, was always a bit softer than normal, yet oddly monotone. And he was more prone to make statements than questions, even when those statements were questions.

Sass nodded, understanding. “She's fine. Bit of a headache, but she can deal with that, as well as Serafino's arm.” She motioned to the back of the cockpit where Eden knelt.

“Good.”

“She reminded me ... she felt the injury in my back and remembered the last time I'd had that was after a bar fight on Port Bangkok. That's where I thought I was when I came to. Just now.” Sass remembered too clearly waking up with her face nuzzled intimately into Kel-Paten's chest. She felt she owed him an explanation.

“I see.”

Did he? Bloody damn, she hated when he was so mechanical. “Look, I just didn't want you to think ... well, I was pretty disoriented. Kind of a flashback. You know?”

“Of course.”

She tried to smile. “Could be worse, you know. I've been known to wake up swinging.”

“So he said.”

It took a moment for Sass to grab the connection. Serafino had said something about a ‘mean right hook’ just before the shuttle hit the jumpgate. Had he been referring to her? Evidently, Kel-Paten had thought so. Anger had flashed briefly in his luminous eyes.

Because he thought the only way Serafino would know that Sass had been prone to wake up swinging a mean right hook was that he'd been in her bed.

She was about to explain that it had been Dag Zanorian she'd clocked when she realized that explanation might not help, either. Now wasn't the time to piss him off. Not when he was under full power. She looked away, ran her hand over the lifeless instrument panel. “So. What's the situation? Do we need to send out a distress signal?”

It took a moment before he answered. She hoped it was just because he was reassessing their data. “We've sustained major damage to engine section four. It's inoperable at this time. I'd estimate at least four to six hours to repair it. Life support is functional, two of the three replicators are back on line and the scanner array is functioning with only minimal damage. In essence, we have enough food, water and power to last us approximately two to three weeks, should we require it.

“That's the good news,” he added.

She turned back to him. She didn't like the way he said that last sentence at all.

“The good news? Meaning?”

“Meaning there is bad news, Sebastian.”

“Which is?”

“I have no idea of where we are, or how to get back to Triad Space. Or even Illithian space, for that matter. Nothing in our nav files matches what I find out there.” He looked out the viewport and nodded.

Sass leaned back in the chair and regarded him in disbelief. “You're kidding.”

“I do not kid.”

No shit, she thought. “There's nothing familiar out there,” she waved her hand at the viewport.

“No.”

“Nothing. Not a star. Not a constellation. Not an asteroid belt we can get a fix on.”

He was kidding. He had to be kidding. But the finality in his voice when he answered made her stomach clench.

“Nothing.”

Bloody damn and lubashit on a lemon. They were lost.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY

GALAXUS

Lost.

In a damaged shuttle.

Not a sturdy, functional Raider-class transport, but a bloody, Gods-damned luxury command shuttle! If it hadn't been such a frightening realization, Sass would've laughed.

“That can't be!”

“Why not?” Kel-Paten asked her. “We've not charted our entire galaxy, let alone the universe.”

“Yeah, but, we've charted—and by ‘we’ I mean, you, me, the Irks, the Kalfi, the T'Sarii and a handful of others,” she ticked off the names on her fingers as she spoke. “We've charted a really big chunk of it. You'd have to go damned far to get to a point where nothing, and I mean nothing, correlated with even the edge of one of the star charts.”

“I believe we have.”

“You believe?” she repeated, her voice rising.

“Sebastian...”

“Don't ‘Sebastian’ me, Kel-Paten. You could be wrong.”

“I could. But the Galaxus's nav comps are intact.”

“That's impossible.” She glanced to the back of the cockpit. “Maybe Serafino can help. The Nasyry have been around a lot longer, and a lot farther, than any of us.”

The bright glow in his eyes flared briefly. “How did you know he's Nasyry?”

“Eden told me,” she replied after a moment, knowing he wouldn't be satisfied with that answer, and knowing they were opening a can of frinkas here.

“Dr. Fynn—”

“Is a telepath, too. Yes.” Might as well cut to the chase.

“Her personnel records—”

“Don't reflect that because she didn't know until recently. Working with Serafino uncovered it. She confirmed he's Nasyry, or half-Nasyry. And if Eden says so, then it's so.” She tried to look sternly at him but failed. She was too damned tired.

Evidently, so was he. With something that was a cross between a sign and a groan, he initiated his shutdown, closing his eyes briefly as he spiked out, letting his head rest against the high back of the seat.

“You okay?” she asked softly after a few minutes.

He turned his head towards her, his eyes once again their familiar pale hue. “No. But it's something I've gotten used to.”

She ran her hands over her face, his soft, apologetic tone tugging at her. That, and the realization that he more than likely wasn't behind the attack by the Irks. Kel-Paten was nothing if not a perfectionist. He would have foreseen the possibility of escape through the jumpgate; something the Irks hadn't. Had Kel-Paten orchestrated the Irk attack, they would have succeeded. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't yell at you. I know you're just doing what you have to do.” She hesitated. “Are we really lost?”

“Technically, no. I know exactly where we are. It just doesn't relate to anything in our nav comps, that's all.”

“So we're lost.” It sounded ludicrous, even to her own ears.

Still, she was surprised when he responded with a small, crooked smile. “Yes.”

She was even more surprised to find herself returning it with one of her own. “Well, hell. Let's look on the bright side, then. That means there's a whole galaxy of pubs out there that haven't banned me. Yet.”

“If Serafino can't help us, finding those pubs may become your full-time job,” he said. “We're going to need supplies, eventually.”

True. “Did your scans pick up any habitable worlds?” It would be nice to know there were a few places they could bunk in with breathable air and potable water. “Or how about a Station, any Station?”

“No Stations, not even a subspace radio transmission in this quadrant, no. But as for habitable worlds, a few possibilities. I'll know more once we get the engines back on line.”

Sass looked out at the silver points dotting the blackness of the starfield, hoping that a planet would suddenly send up some sort of welcome flag, something like “Beer Here! One Credit Shots 1900 hours to Closing!”

Kel-Paten's voice cut into her wishful thinking. “Go check on Serafino. Sounds like he's functional now. I'm afraid I won't be able to make the proper appreciative noises at his survival.”

She gave him a wry smile, surprised at his candor. “Sure, admiral. Will do.” She left her seat, thinking that sometimes he wasn't quite that intolerable.

Sometimes.

Friend? Sleep. Sleep. Tank hurt.

Friend. No sleep. Sleep bad. Alert! Alert! Help friend. Help Sass. Help Mommy.

Friend ... hurt....

Reilly hurt, too. Friend. Alert! Help. Soon food. Soon.

Food?

Food. Soon.

“Though the admiral may never tell you so, we're both appreciative of what you've done.”

Sass sat cross-legged on the floor next to Jace while Eden activated the small bone regeneration device she'd attached to his left arm.

“What I've done,” Jace said from his position propped against the bulkhead wall, “is get us into a blind jump. I did not, and I tried to explain this to Eden, I did not get us out. I thought he did,” he continued with a nod to Kel-Paten in the pilot's seat. “Thought he might have spiked in and taken control. But evidently not, from what you tell me.”

“Then who pulled us out? Someone had to initiate the deceleration sequence on the engines. The computers were off-line; we were on manual,” Sass said, remembering their wild ride.

“Could you or the admiral have done that by mistake?” Eden, briefly glanced up from the med scanner. “Hit something when the ship inverted and you ended up on the viewport?”

“Unlikely,” Sass replied. “The only other possibility is the emergency shut-off, and that's not even up front. It's back...” and she turned towards the rear of the cockpit, towards a long access panel whose door was skewed on its hinges. There was a broken air vent directly above it. And a collar, a bright blue furzel collar, torn in half, snagged on a jagged edge of the vent.

This time her stomach clenched and her heart stopped at the same time.

She sprang to her feet. “Kel-Paten!” She didn't know quite why she called for him. Except she was afraid that if she found what her sinking heart told her she was going to find, she was going to need something large and immovable to pound on in her grief. He was the largest and most immovable thing she knew.

She yanked on the access panel door as he strode up beside her.

“The panel door's stuck!” she cried. “I need in there. Now!”

He didn't question her request, but tore the panel off its hinges.

And there, hanging by their front paws on the long metal emergency shut down handle, were two furzels—one rather large black one with a white tuxedo blaze, and a smaller, furrier black and white one. A fidget, really.

“How in hell—?” Kel-Paten's question ended abruptly as he was roughly shoved aside by two laughing and crying women.

“Tank!”

“Reilly!”

“Mommy mommy mommy mommy!”

“Mommy mommy mommy mommy!”

* * * *

Kel-Paten had never heard of furzel massage before. But it had been Eden's suggestion, no, medical direction. He watched from the pilot's seat as Sass, her face still damp from tears, gently and methodically rubbed the front paws and legs of the pudgy creature that fit nicely in her lap.

The one in Eden's lap didn't fit so well, but received the same loving attention.

When I die, Kel-Paten thought, noting the adoring look Sass bestowed on the small furzel, I think I know exactly what I want to be reincarnated as.

They're traditionally neutered at six months, though. You might not find that as rewarding. Or maybe you might not even notice.

Serafino's voice in his mind hit Kel-Paten like a bucket of ice water. Which was, he realized, exactly what the younger man had intended. He shot Serafino a look of pure venom, but Serafino only shrugged, unconcerned.

Then he caught the narrowing of Fynn's eyes. Had she heard the comment, too? Sass had said the CMO was a telepath; something he didn't want to hear. Not now.

Or had Fynn only sensed an exchange of emotions, as she often did?

And just what had they told Sass?

He could've sworn something passed between Fynn and Serafino as well. And was pleased to note Serafino finally looked a bit chastened as he reached out to ruffle the furry ears of the creature in Fynn's lap.

“They knew what they were doing.” Serafino adjusted his position against the bulkhead with a small wince of pain. “The furzels,” he added, when Eden looked at him. “You can scan him and know for yourself, but since Sass and the Tin—Kel-Paten can't, I'll explain.

“Animals, especially domesticated ones like furzels, form a bond with their humanoid counterparts. A telepathic and sometimes even psychic bond. Reilly,” he said with a nod to the large black furzel now purring loudly in Eden's lap, “came to me in Sickbay with a warning. With all else that was going on, I don't know, I didn't take it as seriously as I should have. So I accept blame there.”

“A warning?” Sass asked, echoing what was in Kel-Paten's mind. “They knew the Illithians were going to attack us at Panperra?”

“Nothing that specific. Just that something felt very wrong. And because of their bond to Eden and you, they decided to take things into their own hands. Uhh, paws.” Serafino grinned.

The fidget, Tank, sneezed a small sneeze that could have been mistaken for fidget-giggles.

“They stowed away,” Serafino continued, “first on the Definator, then they moved to this ship when the luggage was brought over. And hid out, up there.” He pointed to the ceiling. “What I seem to get from Reilly is that he pretty much had free run of the Regalia, is that correct?” he asked Sass.

She nodded.

“He's very intelligent,” Serafino said. Reilly purred louder. “He'd been through enough drills with you and Eden to understand certain basics. When trouble started, he and—Tank, is it?”

Tank stretched one paw towards Serafino in acknowledgment. Kel-Paten didn't know if it was happenstance, or if the small creature understood the conversation.

Serafino nodded to Tank as if he were acknowledging something said. “Tank and Reilly knew they'd have to shut down the engine to drop us out of the jump. They don't have the knowledge to initiate a shut down via the command panel. But Reilly remembered seeing the emergency shut off handle. And, of course, it's labeled.”

“You want us to believe they can read Standard?” Kel-Paten hadn't wanted to address Serafino but someone had to inject some rationality into this insane recounting.

“Of course not.” Serafino looked pleased in his denial. “But they can recognize the same symbols or patterns. It's image retention, not reading. They don't actually understand the word t-u-n-a but when they see that combination, that shape of letters on a can of furzel food, they know it's something they like.”

Food? Reilly's head shot up.

Food! Food! Tank wriggled in Sass's lap.

“T-u-n-a,” Serafino repeated.

Fynn stood and handed Reilly over to Serafino. “I'll check the replicator and see what it can provide for them.”

The ‘menu’ was somewhat limited in the cockpit, the larger replicator being aft of the cabin, which at the moment, with life support still going through recycling procedures, was off-limits. But the CMO returned with a meat stew she said she thought they'd like, and when the furzels were happily slurping away in a corner, the humanoid contingent of the Galaxus’ crew turned their attention to more pressing matters.

Like survival.

And getting home.

Serafino ran through the available data at the nav station. “Sorry,” he said. “Nothing in my memory, collective or otherwise, ties in to what I see here.”

“So we could be two quadrants or an entire galaxy away from Alliance space and we wouldn't know,” said Fynn.

“Well, not two quadrants.” Serafino turned his chair to face Fynn at the weapons station. “At two quadrants there'd still be something recognizable. A constellation, a star cluster we could home in on. That's not the case.”

“So what do we do?” Fynn looked from Serafino to Kel-Paten and back to Serafino again.

“Regardless of where we are, Doctor,” Kel-Paten told her from the pilot's seat, “we have to first assure the integrity of this ship. We have to get the engines, life support and the computers back to optimum—or as close to optimum as we can manage. That's something Captain Sebastian and I, and to some extent Serafino, can handle.” He had no intention of gracing the mercenary with the title of ‘captain', or any kind of title unless it was one that couldn't be said in polite company. “Our second priority is to find a habitable world. We cannot stay in this ship forever, not much past two weeks, and even that will strain the Galaxus's facilities. I'd prefer to find a space station, but since at this point that doesn't seem to be an option, we have to look for a habitable planet.

“That,” he said to Eden, “is definitely your job, Doctor. You have the knowledge to ascertain habitability and biological compatibility.”

“Most importantly,” Sass put in with a smile, “they have to be capable of brewing damn good beer. And a damn good cup of coffee!”

“We also,” Eden added, “need to get some rest. None of us, and that includes you, admiral, are in perfect condition after what we've just been through. If you could make the main cabin one of your first priorities, I think we all might benefit from a little more room.”

“Understood, Doctor,” Kel-Paten said. “We should have life support back in the cabin within three hours.”

He glanced at Sass. His ‘we’ wasn't the ‘inclusive we’ but the ‘we’ that meant Sass and himself.

She seemed to understand. “Where do you want me to start?”

“I've already started the preliminaries.” He transferred to her comp screen the data he'd worked on while spiked in. He leaned on the arm of her chair, about to close the distance between them in order to bring her attention to the results of a diagnostic scan when a small, furry body thrust itself under his arm.

Tank positioned himself on the edge of Sass's chair and looked up at Kel-Paten with a noticeably determined and possessive expression.

Mommy. Mine.

Sass wrapped one arm around the fidget and snuggled him closer against her. “Does it bother you he's here?”

“No,” he lied. He angled back towards his console and tried to concentrate on the problems at hand: they were lost, in a malfunctioning shuttle, out of range of help from any sort of civilization as they knew it.

That should be the problems he needed to address. Not that he was on that same shuttle with a woman who'd never love him, and two telepaths who knew exactly how he, and that woman, felt.

Even her damn fidget wouldn't let him get close.

All he'd need to find out now was that there was something wrong with the shuttle's engines. Then Fynn wouldn't need to file a Section Forty-Six on him. He'd do it himself.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Jace...” Eden said his name softly, but not without an underlying tone of warning.

It wasn't that she was angry, though the Gods knew she could have been, would have been, if it had been anyone other than Jace Serafino whose fingers now oh-so-innocently traced a trail along the side of her breast, sending small shivers of excitement—and distraction—up her spine. She sighed.

“Jace!” She said his name a bit more emphatically this time, turned her face away from the scanner and tried to look at him. But his chin rested on her shoulder—which was how his arm had snaked around her waist and eventually, his fingers explored upwards—so all she could see in this almost nose-to-nose position was an out-of-focus Serafino. But even in such a position she could see he was smiling his usual devilish smile.

“Ummm?” he questioned.

“You're distracting me.”

“Ummm.” This time the deep voice dropped an octave to respond in a low growl.

“How am I supposed to locate a habitable world with ... oh!” Eden gave a little ticklish squirm. “You're making this ... oh my! Difficult.”

“Oh my,” Serafino repeated in her ear. “The Tin Soldier's not here.” For the past two hours, Kel-Paten and Sass had been working on the shuttle's engine, accessible only through a small aft hatchway. Their return, when it happened, would first be proceeded by a series of loud noises as that hatchway groaned back into place, and then the sound of their footsteps through the main cabin.

“You're incorrigible,” Eden told him.

“I've never denied it.” He suddenly swiveled her chair around and dragged her to her feet, his mouth on hers, hard and demanding, yet at the same time teasing, as he kissed her. He nibbled on her lower lip, then covered her face with small kisses again.

She was laughing giddily by that time.

“You get,” he told her when they both gasped for air, “too serious, love. I've been watching you. Yes, we have to find someplace to put this bucket down to finish repairs. And get fuel. And food. And the Gods know what else.

“But there's something else,” he said, stroking her face lightly. She moved her hands up to encircle his neck. “You're worrying. I know why you're worrying.” His voice became softer now, his smile more faint. “I've been apart from people I love, too. For a long time now. It doesn't help, Eden, it doesn't help keeping that worry in the front of your mind all the time. Trust me. I know. I've been there. I'm still there.”

She leaned against his chest, grateful for his warmth and his words. Her cousins on Varlow, who'd been her constant childhood companions and had also been as constant in their encouragement of her when her ex-husband decided he wanted ‘wife with a smaller dress size’ and one who couldn't empathically sense his dissatisfaction. Cal, back on the Vax, who'd never voiced the prejudice some had about working with an empath. Others she'd worked with on the Regalia, who were almost like family. They were, as he said, in the front of her mind, and had been in the almost thirty hours since the Galaxus ended up in this unknown and distant galaxy. They had to believe she was dead, and their useless grief pained her.

“How do you deal with it?” she asked quietly into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“One minute, one day at a time.” He kissed the top of her head. “I've been doing better since I met you. I don't really know why. It's just that ... everything's different now. There's a connection between us, maybe our loneliness. I just don't feel as lost when I'm with you.”

She looked up into deep blue eyes. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “No, I—” The back of the shuttle resounded with a thunk and a clank. He raised his eyes in a pleading expression. “The troops return,” he announced and let her regain her seat.

There was a smudge of something grayish on Sass's right cheek. She looked, Eden thought, distinctly annoyed as she stepped into the cockpit and took her seat in the captain's chair. Kel-Paten followed moments later, looking equally as rumpled but more confused than annoyed.

Eden looked from the admiral to Sass. “Bad news?”

Bad news, Jace told her telepathically.

Sass wiped her sleeve over her face, smearing the gray streak. “We've got a fuel leak.”

Okay, not good news, Eden thought, tamping down her initial alarm. But workable, if—then Jace pulled further information from Kel-Paten's thoughts and relayed it to her.

It was more than a fuel leak. It was a major fuel leak. Their estimate of being able to survive in the shuttle for two to three weeks had just been drastically shortened. Jace picked up the engines’ visuals out of Kel-Paten's mind. He explained the basics to Eden. Something had ruptured going through the jump gate. They had maybe three to four days before the Galaxus would cease being a shuttle and become a coffin.

“How much fuel do we have left?” Eden asked.

“Thirty-six to forty-eight hours.” Kel-Paten's voice showed no emotion but Eden sensed his frustration loud and clear.

His words chilled her. She swallowed hard before giving her own report. “There are three possible planets. Two of them are at least fifty hours from our present location. That leaves us only one choice. Unless you can get the warp drives—”

“Negative,” Sass told her. “Sub-light power only. So,” she leaned over and lifted the chubby fidget into her lap. Tank murruped appreciatively. “Tell us about our new home.”

Eden brought the data up on her screen, simultaneously transferring it to the other workstations. She'd designated the world as Habitable Venture-1, based on its coordinates and bio-scans. HV-One, or ‘Haven-One', as she'd nicknamed it, had two large sections of land mass and one smaller one. However, the larger sections occupied the polar regions; the only temperate climate, and the best place to try to land would be on the smaller land mass. She ran through the other pertinent data: water regions, mountain regions, the small desert region in the southernmost tip. And the three moons orbiting the planet, which created frequent coastal flooding.

“Life forms?” Sass asked.

“Unknown at this point, captain. We're too far for this scanner array to detect anything accurately. In another twelve hours, though, I should have more data. I can say, however,” Eden continued, “that I'm definitely not picking up any evidence of technology.”

“Great. You mean we might be digging for sharvonite crystals with our bare hands.” Sass shook her head wearily.

Eden felt Jace's concentration shift. She glanced at him. His eyes were shut. She could feel him reach out across the blackness of space, probing, sensing. Yet she couldn't see what he did. He'd temporarily shut her out, putting all his energies into finding out what he could about Haven-One, picking up on the life threads that all physical things emitted.

She was distantly aware as he probed the world, felt its oceans, its mountains, its small and hot desert region. And—something else.

Something that didn't know they were there—but if it did, it wouldn't have liked Jace's probing one bit.

But they were too far for Jace to be able to define just exactly what that something was.

And fortunately, too far for that something to know they were about to drop in unexpectedly.

Jace pulled back, gave his head a light shake, much as Sass had minutes earlier. I think we should be careful, he told Eden. There just may be a serpent in paradise.

Sass swiveled abruptly in her chair, jerking Eden out of her connection with Jace. “Talk to me, ‘Fino.”

He glanced up, amused. “Do you have telepathic abilities I don't know about?”

“Hardly. But I've known her,” Sass said with a nod to Eden, “long enough. That little dip of her mouth, that twitch of her foot—that's not good. And she was looking at you.”

“Jace sensed something in or on Haven-One,” Eden explained quietly. “It could just be the three moons creating a gravitational flux.”

“Or?” Sass prompted.

“Or,” Jace explained, “it could be a form of intelligence with a level of telepathy. There's an energy there. Not overwhelming. More of an erratic pulsation. And yes, it could be natural, a residual from a flux. But it feels slightly different. And not overly happy.”

“You can't be serious—” Kel-Paten's words halted as Sass raised her hand.

“It knows we're coming?” she asked.

Jace shook his head. “Not at this point. But we should be careful about putting out any calling cards as we get closer.”

Eden clearly saw, and felt, the admiral's disbelief as he turned back to the data on his console. Sass's face showed thoughtful interest. Unlike Kel-Paten, she wasn't going to discount anything, especially not in an unknown, uncharted quadrant.

We'll handle whatever it is when the time comes, Jace told her.

That time, Eden knew, would come more rapidly than she'd originally thought. Forty-eight hours was all they had left. Forty-eight hours, to get this shuttle stable and functional enough to make a dirtside landing.

The unknown energy form seemed the least of their problems at the moment.

* * * *

Kel-Paten noticed everything about them, feeling like a voyeur yet at the same time knowing there probably was no better instructor on female seduction than Jace Serafino. The way he lightly caressed Eden Fynn's neck as he leaned over and talked to her; the way he touched her hand. The looks they exchanged; the small smiles, the meeting of gazes. There was so much involved, so many ‘moving parts'....

Kel-Paten's own inclination after thirty-six hours with Sass in the close confines of the shuttle was to pin her up against the bulkhead, press his body against hers and kiss her until neither of them could think straight anymore.

But he knew that wouldn't work. If nothing else, his own mind ceased to think straight whenever he got within a few feet of her, let alone up against her. Plus he believed that her reaction would be to think him straight ... to hell.

But he'd been aware of Serafino's effect on his CMO since the renegade captain had first come on board the Vaxxar. He'd watched Eden's demeanor go from cold to professional concern to friendly compassion to passion. If Serafino could break through the well-known barriers of the Zingaran healer—a feat no other male on his ship had been able to do—then surely Kel-Paten could apply the same tactics to Sass.

Maybe.

There were, he knew, other issues. Like, Serafino was full human. And he wasn't. Like, Serafino was known for his charming personality. Kel-Paten was known for his arrogant attitude in keeping with his nicknames: the Tin Soldier. And recently, the Ice Admiral.

Cold. Unyielding. Uncaring.

How little anyone really knew him.

They were still a few hours from the world they'd named Haven-One and Serafino was bent over Eden's station, speaking to her in low, intimate tones. Kel-Paten heard her soft chuckle; caught, in his peripheral vision, the brief tilt of Eden's head against Serafino's shoulder. And the corresponding light kiss Serafino planted on her hair.

Kel-Paten refocused on the woman in the captain's chair next to him in the cockpit. For a moment, he let his mind overlay Serafino's actions as if they were his own and saw himself leaning over Sass, his voice low and caressing in her ear ... she would turn her face slightly and he would catch that impish grin she had ... and perhaps then he would lean closer, brush his mouth across hers, tasting her smile...

Fantasizing again, are we?

Serafino's voice, loud and harsh in Kel-Paten's head, shattered the pleasant image of Sass and replaced it with another one—a grim, hurtful one. The bitter face of a sloe-eyed prosti, sneering at him in disgust.

He was out of his chair in one swift move. He turned, arm raised to grab at Serafino who'd already straightened and stood, arms folded across his chest, laughing.

That'll really impress Captain Sebastian.

Narrowed eyes met narrowed eyes only inches from each other. But one set of narrowed eyes had taken on a distinct luminescence.

“What is going on?” Sass's question was a definite command for information.

Kel-Paten couldn't tell her. And he'd kill Serafino if the bastard said one word right now.

It was Eden who spoke up. He'd forgotten she could read him, and Serafino, too.

“Gentlemen.” She swiveled in her chair. “Now is not the time. We have work to do.” He recognized her “Mother's at the end of her rope” tone.

He was at the end of his proverbial rope, too. What he felt for Sass was private, personal. Not to be used as evidence of a Section Forty-Six by his U-Cee issue CMO. Not to be used as fodder for that Nasyry thought-sucker. Who'd discovered more than just his feelings for Sass.

He'd stumbled onto Kel-Paten's hidden pain.

He spun on his heels and marched through the cockpit doorway and into the main cabin, slamming his fist on the bulkhead wall as he went.

* * * *

Sass let out the breath she'd been holding. “He puts a hole in this ship and we're going to have real problems,” she muttered and then looked up at Serafino. “Whatever you're doing, can it, mister.”

He gave her his most charming smile. “Me? I'm not—”

“Lubashit, ‘Fino. Once we get dirtside, you two can pummel the hell out of each other with my blessings. But until then, I really need his expertise and your cooperation. Do you read me, captain?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good,” Sass replied.

But it wasn't. Things were far from good. Serafino and Kel-Paten were at each other's throats. The shuttle was running out of air and leaking fuel. She needed the cooperation of both men to get this shuttle functional. Just so, she realized grimly, they could land on a planet that housed some kind of malevolent energy form.

If they landed at all. The Galaxus wasn't built for heavy air duty, even in the best of conditions.

This was far from the best of conditions. Their attempt at landing might well turn into the last one they ever try.

GALAXUS, AFT CABIN

Kel-Paten leaned over the small galley sink and splashed cold water onto his face.

He could've killed Serafino.

Wanted to kill Serafino.

But for Sass and Eden Fynn, he would have.

He'd evidently underestimated Serafino's telepathic abilities. How he'd found that deep memory of the prosti, he didn't know. But Serafino had dredged it up from the darkest corners of Kel-Paten's mind as if he'd known just where to look. Shore-leave on Mining Raft 309 in the Drifts. He'd been a mere lieutenant and alone, as usual. His fellow crewmembers had all gone to find what amusements they could in that Gods-forsaken locale that didn't even qualify for a casino license. Just a scattering of dirty pubs, two eating establishments that promised a healthy dose of intestinal parasites with the food, and one nighthouse, with a crude sign that advertised both male and female prostis.

He would never even have considered going inside had it not been for a conversation he'd overheard at the dingy bar where he'd sat, bored and restless. There was no casino license on the Raft, but there were games. Or a game, to be more specific, an illegal poker room in the nighthouse.

The only way he was going to survive the next thirty-six hours on this hellhole would be to keep his mind challenged, and busy, with gambling.

What he, in his twenty-three year old innocence, didn't realize was that the nighthouse, in order to ensure its profits, routinely spiked the gamblers’ drinks with any pharmaceutical concoction that was cheap and handy.

When the young, taciturn, dark haired Kel lieutenant started winning, the bar manager started slipping drinks laced with Heartsong into his black-gloved hands.

Then his mind could no longer concentrate on anything except the heat in his body, a heat that crested when a sloe-eyed, skimpily clad prosti draped herself in a chair next to him.

And he forgot about the cards in his hand and the stack of chips at his place on the table and followed her up the back stairs and into a musty room that smelled of cheap perfume.

But he didn't care, didn't care about anything except removing his uniform and that thin bit of lace that was sloppily wrapped around her...

Then she saw the scars on his chest and arms. And as his hands moved to cup her heavily powdered face, she saw the two small holes at the base of his palms.

She jerked back, her mouth pursed as if she'd just tasted something sour.

“Yer that thing, thass ‘cybe, ain't you? Whassyer name?” she drawled.

“Kel-Paten,” he answered automatically, swaying slightly towards her.

“Yeah, thass right.” She looked him up and down. “Yew may look like real people all right, but they ain't payin’ me enough to do the likes of yew, ‘cybe.” Her face filled with disgust. “Thass wrong. They should'na make yew look so real. Thass sick.”

She'd snatched her lace robe from the bed and bolted out the door.

He'd stood there, shaking, pained. Shamed.

Killing Serafino wouldn't have erased the pain or the shame. But it would have helped.

GALAXUS, COCKPIT

Do you need to hurt him that badly, Jace?

Eden sipped at her cup of hot tea and focused on Serafino seated on the cockpit floor next to her, Reilly sprawled across his lap. They were taking a break from staring at the scanners and, as far as Sass in the captain's chair knew, were sitting quietly with their respective drinks: her Orange Garden and his Roast Java.

They were sitting. And sipping. But they were far from quiet.

Jace gave a mental sigh. It goes way back. An eye for an eye, you know.

Bianca?

And my nephew, yes. You know that.

So you have to ... do this to him? Make him feel this hurt?

Hurt? Jace laughed tightly in her mind. Pain, Eden. He has to feel pain. I want to break through that icy fortress he's locked himself in and make him feel what it's like to be human, to suffer a loss. Don't damn me because of it. He reached over and stroked her hand. In the long run, he'll be the better for it. Maybe he'll think twice next time before acting to ruin someone's life.

I think he already feels the pain. Jace, there's something you should know—

About the Tin Soldier? You mean that he's got the hots for Sebastian? I picked up on that from the start. That's why I know my methods will work.

He stroked the furzel's soft head.

It's more than the ‘hots'. He's ... been in love with her for a long time. Over ten years.

He gave a surprised chuckle. No shit? That's wonderful! he added sarcastically. So we have a real full blown obsession here.

This isn't something to toy with. You don't understand this. Or him. I've done some ... digging in his mind. The way he feels about her isn't an area you want to mess with.

All the more reason, love. All the more reason.

Jace! Eden shot him a feeling of strong disapproval. I don't understand you when you're like this. I don't ... like this in you. I really don't.

He leaned his head back against the metal panel and closed his eyes. Eden, try to understand. This is not ... an element of my personality I would ever turn on you. Ever. But what he did to me, what he did to Bianca goes too deep. Cuts too deep. I can't ... I can't let it go unavenged.

And if you push him too far?

I won't. Not on this ship, anyway. When we're dirtside...? And he shrugged.

Eden shook her head. He'll kill you. Don't you realize that?

Eden. He said her name with such finality, such force that she physically turned and looked at him. His eyes were still closed but she knew he could see her. There are things about me, about being Nasyry that you don't know. I can ... well, let's say it would be very difficult for Kel-Paten to kill me. That was one of the reasons Psy-Serv was so insistent on tracking me down. They knew, you see. They knew that if anyone was a match for their prize ‘cybe it was me.

He opened his eyes, his dark blue gaze on her now. It never mattered before. Before I met you. I didn't care if I lived or died. But I want our life to be perfect, Eden. I want to make all the wrong things right. And this is where I have to start.

And he brought her hand to his lips. Trust me on this one.

Even if I feel you're being cruel?

It's not cruel, love. And it's more than just vengeance on my part. Remember, he's a protégé of Psy-Serv. Until I break him down, until I peel away those impenetrable layers he's concocted, I don't know whose side he's on. I don't know if we can trust him.

I've dealt with him before. And I've never been able to ‘read’ him, until now. Whatever has happened to him because of Sass has opened a hole in his defenses. Because of her, he's let down his guard. That's my only way into his mind, and his only way out of whatever programming Psy-Serv has imbedded in there. Do you understand now?

She did. But it was a frightening and dangerous route he'd chosen.

* * * *

It had been almost an hour since the admiral had challenged Serafino and then stomped off to the main cabin. Sass had no interest in chasing after him when he fell into one of his royal snits and so had let him simmer down, or stew, whatever the case may be. But when he'd not returned after what she felt was a reasonable time she decided to go after him—not out of concern for whatever had sparked the tiff, she told herself, but because they had to make some important decisions about getting the shuttle dirtside. Decisions she knew the admiral wasn't going to like.

Serafino was placing both his and Eden's empty mugs into the recyc panel when she stood. “You have the ‘con, ‘Fino. I'm going to brief Kel-Paten on our landing preparations.”

Jace started to head for the captain's chair. Sass put out one hand to stop him. “No, no.” She laughed. “Over there.” She pointed to the co-pilot's chair, the one Kel-Paten had been seated in. “I'm still in charge here, big boy.”

“Just wanted to see if you'd notice,” he drawled with a wink.

“My ass,” she quipped back.

His laughter followed her as she stepped through the doorway.

Kel-Paten was seated in the last row, staring out a small viewport. He didn't turn when the hatchway whooshed open, nor at the sound of Serafino's deep laughter, nor when the hatchway closed. He didn't turn when her footsteps came down the aisle towards him. And he didn't turn when she took the seat next to his.

He was in a royal snit. She'd witnessed the signs before. It was if he'd crawled in somewhere deep and dark and locked the door after him. And locked everyone else out.

When she'd first been assigned captaincy of the Vax, she'd watched how his First Officer had handled the Ice Admiral: “Sir, if you don't mind ... Sir, can I get you some coffee ... Begging the Admiral's pardon, sir...”

Kel-Faray may have been with Kel-Paten for almost twenty years, but Sass decided right then and there that his methods stunk. And that was during the average on-board crisis that occurred with familiar regularity on any huntership.

Now, with less than seven hours of fuel on board and stuck in some Gods-forgotten remote corner of the Gods-knew-what galaxy, Sass had even less time to mollycoddle him.

“Serafino and I will take the shuttle in,” she announced without any preliminaries. “We both have considerable heavy-air time and he's got more freighter experience than any of us. And this thing, once we hit heavy air, is going to fly just like a ten-bay freighter.”

That got his attention. His head jerked towards her and she was surprised to see the bleakness in his eyes. She'd expected anger, after what had happened in the cockpit. Or perhaps, even by this time, righteous indignance. He and Serafino were always engaged in some game of one-upmanship, it seemed. Though over what exactly she'd yet to fathom.

So the bleakness, the surrender she saw made no sense. Though his question did shed some light on the subject.

“You think I'm losing my mind, don't you?”

She thought of the way he'd lunged at Serafino and how he'd done almost exactly the same thing during their interrogation back on the Vax—was it only days ago? She'd physically intervened then. Later, he'd admitted to her he'd lost control. Not the usual admission for a highly trained officer.

And definitely not the usual admission for a highly trained ‘cybe.

And it had happened again. The thought that he might need a tune-up had crossed her mind.

“Serafino pushes your buttons,” she said. “And you, no doubt, also push his. We're all stuck in a rather small shuttle with very little fuel left. Whether or not you're losing your mind is the least of my worries.”

“Then why did you decide to have Serafino assist without consulting me?”

She shrugged. “Because I knew you wouldn't agree. And we don't have time to argue.”

“Am I arguing now?”

His tone was too bland, too calm. It had her worried. But, as she'd pointed out to him, she didn't have time to worry right now.

“No,” she said.

“Do you think I don't trust you?” he asked quietly.

She'd thought that for quite some time. Until she'd read those damned personal logs of his. Logs she'd been trying hard to forget every time she caught him looking at her with that almost pleading look in his eyes.

Like now.

She picked at some non-existent lint on her sleeve. “I think there have been a lot of misunderstandings on both our parts. You and I, we operate from different command methodologies.” She looked back at him. “I didn't ask Serafino to fly right seat to undermine you, Kel-Paten. He has the heavy air experience and we don't. It's not like we're going to get a second chance at putting this bucket down.”

“You made a wise decision,” he told her softly.

She tried unsuccessfully to keep the look of surprise from her face. “Thank you.”

“If the engines do start to blow, I can do a lot more good hands-on with them than I could in the cockpit,” he continued.

Being down in the engine compartment below the main cabin would also put the necessary space between himself and Serafino. “You don't sound overly optimistic.”

“I'm not,” he admitted. “You saw the same damage I did. The Galaxus is a deep space craft, not made to deal with the effects of gravity. When we hit the planet's atmosphere we could encounter additional problems.”

Sass understood now what was so odd about Kel-Paten. It was as if he'd deleted that part of him that was human. His responses, his phrasing was automatic, mechanical. And, save for the still humanly strained look in his pale eyes, he was all ‘cybe. Unemotional. Reporting the facts.

We are probably going to die. Oh well. I'll be below decks if you need me.

Swell.

“Are we talking total engine failure here?” she asked.

“Do you want probabilities?”

She had to keep herself from raising her eyes to the mythical Five Heavens. He was definitely into a mechanical mode now. “Why not?” she replied grimly.

“There's a seventy-six point five percent chance of total engine failure. A forty-three point two percent chance we'll experience more than a fifty percent loss of power upon atmospheric entry. A—”

“Miracle, Kel-Paten,” she cut in. “What's the percent probability for a miracle?”

He regarded her plainly. “I don't believe in miracles.”

“I base my life on them,” she challenged.

He seemed shaken by her statement, a small spark of human emotion flashing briefly in his eyes. “Do you?”

“Bet your ass I do.” She stood, braced one hand on the back of his seat and looked down at him. “Any landing you can walk away from is a good one. We're all going to walk away from this one. I'll give you a one-hundred percent probability on that, flyboy.”

She hadn't called him that in a long time. He closed his eyes but not before Sass saw the undisguised heat in them.

She straightened and stepped back. She was so used to interacting on a personal level with her friends, her crew. Sometimes she forgot and did the same thing with Kel-Paten. Only things weren't the same. He was a ‘cybe. And he wanted her, in a way a ‘cybe shouldn't.

She tossed a light parting comment over her shoulder as she returned to the cockpit. “When we land, you get to buy me a beer, Kel-Paten. And if we don't make it,” she stopped at the hatchway and turned. “You still get to buy me a beer. In the hell of your choice.”

“Ready to initiate entry procedures.” Serafino called to her.

She took the seat he vacated, tried to forget the bleakness in Kel-Paten's pale eyes. And the exactness of his probabilities: seventy-six point five percent chance of a total engine failure.

Seventy-six point five percent chance that three hours from now, they'd all be dead.

And she'd be sipping hot beer in hell.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Let's take her in, ‘Fino.”

Sass tapped a command into the console before her. The Galaxus responded, her sub-light engines cycling off and, with a slight jolt, the emergency heavy air engines kicked on.

She coordinated landing data with Serafino. Eden had designated a southern area of the largest landmass as the most likely and most amenable area for them to put down. The CMO's scans had shown a sizeable fresh water supply, lush vegetation and more important, it was adjacent to a mountain range that contained a possible fuel source if they could mine and convert the natural ore. But that was a distant problem. Getting this bucket down was the immediate one.

“Engines at max,” Serafino told her. She watched their speed and temperature carefully. Coming through the planet's atmosphere they could encounter any number of problems, not the least of which would be in response to the damage the vessel had already incurred.

She tapped open the mike on her headset. “Status, Kel-Paten.”

“Holding our own,” came back the reply from the engine compartment below deck.

“I'm keeping this line open,” she told him. “First sign of any trouble, I repeat, any trouble, you talk to me, got it?”

“Affirmative.”

The shuttle shimmied slightly. Sass glanced over at Serafino. “We're getting some vibrational feedback from the deep space shields.”

“Ummm.” He keyed in a few adjustments. “I don't want to reduce them more than that. Not yet.”

She noted his changes. “Agreed.”

“ETA fifteen minutes thirty-four seconds,” Eden said from her post at navigation.

“Fifteen thirty-four,” Sass repeated. “You hear that, Kel-Paten?”

“Affirmative.”

“Talk to me about the drop in coolant level,” she continued.

“I'm on it.”

She knew that; knew he saw what she saw in the cockpit. What she wanted to know was how serious it was.

“What's our rate?”

“Moderate,” came back the reply.

“Moderate, my ass. I need numbers!” Next to her, Serafino adjusted the craft's attitude as the shimmying had started again.

“Your job is to bring this thing in, Sebastian. I'll keep the engines on line.”

“You can be very annoying sometimes, Kel-Paten, you know that?”

“Thank you.”

Serafino raised one eyebrow. “Sometimes?” he said loudly enough for her headset mike to pick up.

“Fuck you, Serafino,” Kel-Paten's deep voice growled over the speaker.

“You're not my type, Tin Soldier,” Serafino shot back.

“Enough, boys!” Eden voiced her displeasure before Sass could.

The black starfield outside the forward viewport had been replaced by a deeper blue, then a lighter blue as the shuttle hurtled through Haven-One's atmosphere. Hull temperature had increased; not critically but worth watching. Serafino worked the shields, but Sass could tell by the frown on his face that they weren't responding as he would have liked.

“Thing flies like a rock,” he muttered when for the third time in less than a minute the shuttle had shimmied almost out of control, her engines straining audibly.

“Worse than a ten bay freighter,” Sass agreed. She needed to be able to buffer their descent with the thrusters. But given the damage they'd received, she didn't dare bring them on line until she absolutely had to.

Gravity exerted a more potent pull on the shuttle, warning messages flaring correspondingly.

“We have to reduce those shields,” Sass told Serafino.

“I don't like this, but...” He made the adjustments.

“I know. Eden?”

“Twenty-two minutes, fifteen,” Eden replied wiped her hand over her brow. The interior temperature of the shuttle had increased dramatically in the past few minutes and would get worse as the shields came off line.

But it had to be. The Galaxus wasn't a heavy-air craft. The only way the ship would be able to negotiate in that foreign environment would be to reduce power to the shields and siphon it to the engines and thrusters.

Suddenly, the grating whine of the engines crested, then died. The shuttle veered sharply to port.

Sass held on with one hand and frantically keyed in adjustments with the other.

“Kel-Paten! Talk to me!”

The response that came back was strained. “We've got ... thruster failure...feed lines one and two out ... doing what ... I can.”

“Shit!” she said. “‘Fino?”

He was already rerouting the remaining power feeds. “It may not be the smoothest of entries,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Seventeen minutes, ten!” Eden told them over the ship's rattling and groaning.

They broke through into the cloud layer, the brightness almost blinding.

“We're coming in way too hot!” Sass tried to alter the angle of their descent with no success.

“Braking vanes will shear off at this speed,” Serafino noted tersely.

As if in response, the shuttle shuddered violently again, prompting a flurry of activity in the cockpit. Sass watched the readouts with a critical eye. She had no doubt they were pushing the shuttle to its design limits. She was surprised there hadn't been more systems shutdowns than the ones already—

Then she knew. She knew what was keeping them together at this point.

“Fifteen minutes even,” Eden said.

“Damn him! Bloody fool's spiked himself into the ship's systems!” Sass thrust herself to her feet, ripping the headset off and throwing it into her chair. “‘Fino, you have the con. Just do what you can!” She bolted through the cockpit hatchway and ran towards the rear of the craft.

Sass scrambled down the ladderway into the engine compartment, one look confirming what she'd guessed. Kel-Paten sat on the floor next to the dismantled main engine panel, datalinks snaking from the panel to the small ports in his left hand. His head was bowed, his breathing ragged.

She hunkered next to him and grabbed his forearm. “What in hell do you think you're doing? Spike out, now!”

His face, when he turned to her, was covered with a sheen of sweat, his eyes a bright luminous blue. “Desperate ... times.” His voice was thin, raspy.

“Spike out, Kel-Paten. Or I'll rip those things right out of you!” she said harshly.

“Feed links ... are blown. No other ... way.”

“Damn it, this'll kill you!” She shook his arm. “Spike out!”

“No—links...”

“Forget the links!”

“...No.”

“I don't have time to argue.” She reached for the datalines. His right hand clasped her wrist.

“No. Sass...” His voice was barely above a whisper and the hand that held her wrist trembled.

She stared at him. He was going to kill himself. She knew that, knew the energy requirements of slowing and landing the shuttle would take every bit of life from him. He was willing to do that.

She wasn't willing to let him. And there was no time to argue.

He was choosing to die. She had to make him want to choose to live.

She kissed him, with a passion born of desperation and fear and anger, taking advantage of his gasp of surprise to let her tongue probe his mouth, then raked his lower lip with her teeth. As she withdrew he leaned towards her, wanting more, needing more, his mouth still against hers.

He'd released her wrist. She placed her hands on either side of his face. His luminous eyes blazed like a white-hot flame.

“Spike out,” she told him softly, her thumb against his lips, stilling his attempt to claim her mouth again. “You're no use to me dead.”

He closed his eyes briefly, cycled into a shutdown. He pulled out the datalinks before she could. She wrenched him to his feet.

“Move it, Kel-Paten!” she barked and shoved him towards the compartment hatchway.

He hesitated at the foot of the maintenance ladder, a questioning look on his face as she stepped in front of him.

“Sass—” he started.

The ship bucked, hard. She fell against him, then he was shoving her up the ladderway, swearing, his voice still raspy.

She clambered back into her seat, raking the safety straps across her chest, as Serafino fought to control the bucking shuttle that seemed to want to do nothing more than drop like a rock out of the skies.

Kel-Paten, at the station behind her, manually adjusted what he could of the failing engines. She hadn't looked at him since she'd returned to the cockpit; his one glance at her at the foot of the maintenance stairs had told her she was playing a dangerous game here. But she'd read his personal logs and if manipulating his feelings for her had saved his life, so be it. He could be pissed at her all he wanted, later.

If they survived.

Sharing a beer in hell was beginning to look more and more like a realistic possibility.

“Fifteen hundred feet—twelve hundred feet ... one thousand...” Serafino read out their descent as he manipulated the controls.

“Eight hundred. We're still coming in hot,” he said.

“Got to chance the braking vanes,” Sass told him.

“Try a steep bank first.” This from Kel-Paten.

“Hard to port,” Sass said and the shuttle's frame groaned under the pull of gravity.

“Five fifty,” Serafino said. “Starting landing sequence.”

“Extending vanes,” Sass noted a lot more calmly than she felt. A lot more calmly that the shuttle reacted.

“Heading corrected,” Eden said for the third time as the craft slipped out of control.

“Hope you found us someplace soft!” Sass managed a tense grin.

“Like a baby's bottom,” Eden replied.

The forward viewport filled with deep greens and browns of a forest and a long expanse of meadow below.

The meadow. They had to make the meadow. The engines—

—died.

“Brace for impact!” Sass grabbed her armrests just as the shuttle carved a deep furrow into the soft, green carpeted ground.

REGNAND'S FARM

The loud rumbling and subsequent thunderous boom didn't go unnoticed by Farmer Regnand, who turned from his cattle stall at the first and jumped noticeably at the second. Gray, weathered eyes searched the skies—it was but midday and not the season for storms.

Then he saw it, something silvery and fiery at the same time, streaking through the white clouds and behind the mountaintop. It was there only for a few seconds and had it been night, he would have thought it to be one of those falling stars.

But it wasn't night. And somehow he knew it wasn't a star.

The soft mooing of his cows brought his mind back to more immediate concerns. Still later, sharing a plate of stew and fresh baked bread with his plump wife, he mentioned what he'd seen and heard.

She shook her head solemnly. “‘Tis him, the Wizard, then. He be doin’ his dark magic.”

Silently, Regnand agreed and a morsel of bread stuck in his dry throat. He washed it down with a draught of cold, bitter ale.

If it were the Wizard, then things were not good. They were not good at all.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HAVEN-ONE

“Helluva baby's bottom,” Sass rasped, untangling herself from the shredded safety straps.

Tank and Reilly stared wide-eyed at her from their safety kennel under her station. She shoved herself out of her seat and flipped open the kennel's latch. Behind her, she heard Eden's responding chuckle as the furzels bounded out, tails fluffed and flicking.

Gods’ blessed rumps, they'd made it!

Four forms surged to their feet, groaning and swearing and in between all that making sure the shuttle's systems were safely locked in full shutdown.

“Main feed off line,” Kel-Paten said.

“Off line. Secondary off line,” Serafino responded hoarsely.

“Initiating final shutdown!” Sass leaned over the pilot's con, gently pushed a murruping Tank out of the way, and tabbed at the last of the pads. Shutdown completed, all systems on safety. She spun about and grabbed Eden around the waist and hugged her hard. “We did it, we did it!”

There was a loud whoop and Eden was dragged from Sass's embrace into Jace's arms.

“Son of a bitch!” Serafino shouted. “Damn, but we're good!”

Laughing, Sass slapped him on the back, shared a congratulatory handclasp with Eden again before turning.

And bumped directly into Kel-Paten's broad chest. Her right hand caught him on the shoulder and as she stumbled against him, his arms snaked about her waist. He held her there, his pale gaze locked onto her.

Her laughter subsided into a hiccup. Her hand slid down his shirt, coming to rest on the lightning slashed emblem of the Vaxxar. She patted it absently, drawing a breath. “Looks like we made it.” She gave him a nervous smile and tried to step back.

But he had no intention of releasing her.

Behind her, she could hear Eden's throaty giggle and caught a few words of Serafino's recounting of their rather unceremonious descent and landing. Those two were caught in their own world of relief and rejoicing; unaware at the moment of Kel-Paten's hold on her, or of the heat in his eyes as he looked at her.

Of course, they had no idea she'd kissed him earlier. Nor how much she was regretting her unorthodox methods right now. Clearly that was an avenue he wanted to pursue; his private ‘love letters’ to her assured her of that much.

As did the way his hands slowly made their way up her back, caressing, pressing her closer to the hard heat of his body.

“I think we should check for structural damage,” Sass said quickly. This time when she stepped back he loosened his grasp slightly, enough to put some space between them. She used that space to try to turn away. He caught her by the wrist. She looked up at him.

“Sass, when you found me in the engine compartment—”

“Desperate times, desperate measures,” she told him quietly, echoing his own excuse for his actions earlier.

He gave a short sigh of frustration before releasing her.

She retrieved a tool kit from storage locker, looking to escape the results of something she admitted she'd started.

And had no intention of finishing.

She wasn't allowed to get away. Kel-Paten plucked the stress analyzer from her hand as she stepped through the hatchway into the main cabin. “You'll need some help.”

“Sure.” Business. Let's keep this strictly business. She followed him to the rear airlock that led outdoors and prayed he wouldn't ask further about desperate times, and desperate measures. Or how she'd known such measures would work.

She damned the day she'd ever seen those damned love letters.

The Galaxus was in surprisingly good shape, considering the ‘gear up’ landing she'd just been through not even an hour before. Sass watched the data cascade down her scancorder, confirmed her readings with Kel-Paten then marched up to the airlock to shout instructions to Serafino in the cockpit. The communications system was one of the things that had gone inexplicably offline when they crashed.

Landed, she reminded herself. She was still walking. They'd landed.

“Let me see your ‘corder.” Kel-Paten held out one black-gloved hand towards her. She trotted down the stairs, puzzled, but handed it to him.

Unexpectedly, he turned away from the shuttle. “We've a significant ore source not far from here.”

She glanced over his arm. Not far if they'd had a hovercar or two. A long walk, though.

“Some possible secondary deposits closer.” She pointed to a highlighted area on the screen.

“I saw that before, but the next reading showed it in error.” It was his turn to frown. “We probably should've recalibrated these units to this world before using them.”

Energy fluctuations danced across the screen.

“Ummm,” she said out loud and thought of Serafino's words: an unknown, malevolent energy source. Beckoning them.

Playing hide and seek, from the looks of things.

Or else it was only what Kel-Paten said: they should've recalibrated the units before coming out here. Each world had its own signature. Unfortunately, they had no Alliance issue datapack on this one.

“It'll take me about an hour to set up a recalibration.” Kel-Paten almost echoed her thoughts. “We'll worry about that mountain range later.” He flipped his unit back to close range and turned to the shuttle.

Sass stared at the distant mountains for a few seconds longer. They looked lush, green, peaceful. Certainly nothing to worry about.

A small energy spike flared on her screen, then disappeared.

Calibration incompatibilities. That's all it was. They'd fix that—later.

* * * *

Jace Serafino put his hands on his hips and surveyed his surroundings—this was paradise, though he had a feeling neither Sass nor the Tin Soldier would agree. He pushed aside that odd, discordant sensation, that energy source; his serpent in paradise? It seemed quiet, tame at the moment. What he saw was more vivid. Lush green forest ringed the long meadow that had served as their landing strip. Over the treetops, the deep purple of a mountain range could be seen. A range that contained, according to Eden's science scans, sufficient raw crystalline ore to power the shuttle.

In the opposite direction was a large, placid, clear blue lake. He and Eden, hand in hand, with furzels behind them, had already been there, following the readings on her ‘corder. It was a fresh water lake, no doubt filled by runoffs from the mountains. Eden had been testing a water sample through her unit when he'd taken a deep draught of it from his cupped hands.

She'd shrieked, admonishing him about potential poisons and he'd only laughed and splashed water back at her. Which had required, of course, that she kick water at him.

And so, splattered and damp, they'd returned to the shuttle. Eden had gone inside to find dry clothes from the jumble of luggage they had been able to retrieve from the storage compartments.

Serafino removed his damp shirt and threw it carelessly over a nearby small bush to dry. The warmth of the sun felt good on his skin and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back and let the heat soak into his tired body.

No, no evil serpents now. Maybe he'd misread. That damned implant might be disconnected, but it was still there.

Hearing soft footsteps on the ground behind him, he turned, his long hair swinging over his shoulder. He caught the bright gleam in her blue eyes and grinned. Damn, but she was beautiful! The way the sunlight played through her honey colored hair, wisps of which now brushed her cheeks and lips as she walked. He envied those wisps, wanted to kiss every place they touched...

A breeze caught the light fabric of her tunic, outlining the soft curves of her body, the fullness of her breasts and the sweet lushness of her thighs. A sweetness he very shortly intended to explore.

“Its ... kind of a mess down there,” she said, stepping up before him.

Down there? Well, yes, his thoughts were definitely ‘down there’ though he doubted they were talking at the moment about quite the same location.

“Hmmm?” He transformed his desire for her into a sparkling, tingly mental shower that he rained on and through her mind.

“Oh!” Her bright blue eyes shot wide open in response.

He laughed and, grabbing her by the waist, spun her around. “You're right,” he told her. “I am incorrigible. And it's all your fault. Now tell me, what's the problem?”

She blinked a few times. “The problem—? Oh, yes. The luggage. When we decided to plow the field here, we did so with the storage compartments. The luggage is basically intact but, well, all over the place.” She motioned with her hands. “Shirts here, shoes there. Tank and Reilly are having a wonderful time, crawling under and through everything.”

“Glad someone's enjoying it.” He drew her closer to him, planted a kiss on her head and watched the movement of two forms on the far side of the shuttle. Sass and the Tin Soldier, discussing repairs that needed to be done. Useless, he knew, unless they could convert the fuel ore. Far more important, in his estimation, was his and Eden's project: survival here on Haven-One.

“I gather we're in charge of dinner,” he continued. “Replicator's functioning?”

She smiled. “Yes, but better than that,” and she wriggled away from him and drew out her scancorder, “we have fresh vegetables!” She pointed the unit somewhere behind him. “I saw the readings earlier. Looks like fruit and vegetables. Not furzel fare, of course, but I think they'll find what they want. But for us, at least, something with some real flavor.”

“No meat?” He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust.

“That's your job, O Great Hunter!” she teased back. “Just keep in mind that I do not pluck, skin or gut.”

He took her hand. “But you do dig! C'mon, then. We'll start with the salad course and go from there.”

* * * *

It had been a satisfying, if not interesting, first meal. Sass left Eden to categorize some of the unused vegetables into the bio-logs and found Kel-Paten outside the shuttle, pulling on his dark flight jacket. She frowned but knew he hadn't seen her in the darkness, so she put her question into words.

“Going somewhere?”

He turned abruptly at the sound of her voice. “I thought it would be a good idea to scope out our surroundings.”

He started towards the dark edge of the forest and she caught up with him. “Eden's scans showed the closest settlement to be almost ten miles away. You intending to take a long hike?”

“I'd rather see than be seen.”

“You'll run smack into a tree, Kel-Paten. You're not used to this terrain,” she said then noticed the luminous glow in his eyes. He was on cybe-power. Night scope. Well, that'll really give a warm and friendly feeling to the natives, she thought. Demon from hell invades local village at night.

“C'mon.” She waved her arm in the opposite direction. “I have a better idea.”

She'd seen the equinnards—some cultures called them horses—earlier in her trek, while Eden had worked on dinner and Serafino and the admiral had tinkered with the ship's systems. They were obviously wild yet not skittish of humans—at least they weren't when she'd held handfuls of sweetgrass out to them.

How they'd view a bio-cybe, she had no idea. But sweetgrass was known to work wonders.

As were companion animals. Tank had trotted up alongside her as she led Kel-Paten to the base of the mountain range, just a short distance from the shuttle.

She picked him up, massaged his furry ears and prayed he wouldn't fart. That wouldn't go over well with any species.

The small herd of equinnards looked large and shadowy in the pale light of the rising moons. She softly clucked her tongue at them and, setting Tank down, grabbed a handful of sweetgrass from under a nearby bush.

A hushed snorting sound came from the herd.

“Here, Prancer boy. Here, Prancer. Good boy. Come here. Come see what Sassy has for you.” She held the sweetgrass stalks flat in her hand.

Kel-Paten came up behind her but she stuck out her arm and stopped his progress while he was still a few feet away. “Wait,” she told him quietly. “They can't take too many new people at a time. Let Tank talk to them first.”

The small furzel had already made his way towards the herd, looking cautiously up at the giant animals. One gray stallion lowered his head, snuffling the fidget. Tank raised his mottled pink and black nose and snuffled back, purring.

“S'okay. S'okay,” Sass crooned, walking towards them both. She lay her hand on the gray stallion's side, then stroked his long head as he munched the sweetgrass. After a few minutes, she waved to Kel-Paten.

“C'mere. This is Prancer. I think you two ought to be introduced.”

* * * *

The only equinnards he'd ever ridden had been on simdecks. Digitally reproduced forms, they'd responded to whatever program had been requested and none he'd ever tried had felt as large and foreign as the one on which Kel-Paten sat now.

Prancer. Thumper was more like it. He had a feeling there might be an even worse name come morning, when his rear end fought back with a description or two of its own.

As usual, Sass seemed immediately comfortable seated on her own smaller equinnard, a cream colored animal with large dark brown eyes. ‘Bailey', she'd called her, after the sweet liquor the same color as the beast. He watched her post as they traveled through the thick forest; moving up and down in time to the rhythm of the beast's movement. There was something inherently sexual about it and if he hadn't been so damned uncomfortable at the moment, he probably would've let his mind wander into a more than pleasant fantasy.

It took all his attention just to keep Prancer under control. With no saddle and no reins, the equinnard wanted to run. He could feel the animal's muscles ripple with tension under his legs.

They came to a small clearing and Sass slowed as he did, seeing the dim glow of lights in the distance.

“Land ho,” she said softly.

He nodded. “Dr. Fynn said it was a small settlement, about one hundred or so life forms.”

“Eden,” she told him, not without a small note of irritation. “She has a first name, you know. It's Eden. I think we can start to dispense with some of the formalities here, Kel-Paten.”

“So do I,” he replied and when she looked at him he continued: “Have a first name.”

“You are Kel-Paten. You always will be Kel-Paten,” she said, overriding any further comment from him. “The only thing we may have to drop here is ‘admiral'. It might create too many questions right now.”

She nudged Bailey forward.

“Is it Sebastian or Sass, then?” he asked, coming alongside her.

She gave him an enigmatic smile. “Sass. It's always been Sass. There is no Sebastian.” She kicked at Bailey's sides before he could question her further.

They emerged from the forest onto a wide graveled road, rutted from the wheels of many wagons. Or what he had to assume would be wagons as Dr. Fynn's—Eden's scans had shown only a low level of technology on Haven-One.

The small town twinkled brightly, candles flickering from first and second story windows. Only in one or two instances did there seem to be a third story

“Is that a watch tower?” she asked.

He turned his enhanced vision on the object of her scrutiny. “Not a watch tower,” he said after a moment. They were closer to the town and the clop-clopping of the equinnards’ hooves was answered by other sounds coming from the source of the flickering lights: metal and wood clanking, like doors slamming. Voices, muffled but carrying in the night. Other animal noises, the low mooing of lubas, the high whinny of stabled equinnards.

He saw movement in Sass's lap as Tank perked up his ears and sniffed the air. He caught the scent, too. Food. Meat grilling.

“Behave,” he heard her tell the fidget.

He fought the urge to warn her in a similar fashion.

They passed through a wide wooden gate without attracting any notice.

VILLAGE OUTER ROAD

Torches set in metal-wrapped sconces jutted out from the brick and plaster walls of the commercial establishments of the village, illuminating wooden signs colorfully decorated in a manner befitting the trade: an anvil and iron for the blacksmith; a table laden with food and drink for the pub and eatery; and a bosomy female, flat on her back, skirts hiked around an impossibly narrow waist...

Sass chuckled at that one when Kel-Paten averted his eyes.

“It's the galaxy's oldest profession,” she reminded him.

“I'd heard second oldest, politicians being first,” he replied. “And not dissimilar.”

“Umm. I heard there was no love lost between you and the Defense Minister.”

Actually, it was more like a deep-seated hatred, from what U-CID had discerned shortly before the signing of the peace treaty. Sass knew that at times it was only the Prime Councilor's strong support of Kel-Paten that had kept him out of serious conflict.

But that was, for now, not even worth thinking about. They were the-Gods-only-knew how many light-years away from the Kel Triad, or U-Cee space, or anywhere familiar. Kel-Paten seemed to realize that, too, as he responded to her comment.

“I'm sure he's rejoicing over my disappearance,” he said, referring to the minister. “Not that it matters, here and now. What matters,” he said, guiding Prancer towards an empty railing near a large fountain, “is finding out a bit more about our here and now.”

He swung one leg over the stallion's wide back and dismounted gracefully, but she caught a slight wince. Not used to riding, evidently. She hadn't been either, until Lethant.

She started her dismount but he held up one hand, stopping her.

“With all due respect, Sebastian, I think it best if you wait here for now. From what I've seen, you're not quite properly attired for the typical female. I need answers more than I need questions at this point.” He patted Bailey's neck gently. “I'm going to ask a few questions in the pub across the square. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

He turned, the rapidity of his movement and the surrounding darkness affording substantial cover for her response, which amounted to her sticking her tongue out at his retreating back.

But he was right. She'd seen a few women entering and exiting some of the residences and all were in long skirts and shawls. Her black flight pants, boots and fitted shirt were certainly not the current mode of fashion. Nor was her short cropped pale hair.

She remembered what she and Eden were supposed to have been doing by this time—besides getting Serafino free of trouble, that is. The Fair, the Olde Legend Fair. All those costumes they'd painstakingly recreated from the simdeck programs. The long, full skirts. The embroidered full sleeved blouses. The colorful shawls and wide-brimmed flowered bonnets. Clothes, it seemed, would not be a problem. She'd have to inform Kel-Paten of that as soon as—

An anguished terrifying scream split the air, halting her thoughts.

She flung herself off her equinnard and charged blindly into the dark, narrow alleyway, only a few feet behind her.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

VILLAGE ALLEYWAY

The bloodcurdling notes faded as abruptly as they'd started. But Sass heard other sounds, grunts and thuds. Sounds more masculine than the scream.

The alley zigged to the left. Sass skittered to a halt at the corner and felt something small and soft thump into her leg. A quick glance confirmed the fidget had followed her. Sass was more interested in what the dim light of the moons revealed ahead. An older woman, her bonnet askew, clutching her torn shawl as two burly men shoved her to the cobblestoned ground. A basket of wrapped breads lay nearby, upended and trampled. One of the men, in a thick and drunken voice, made reference to the old woman's wares as he tried to force her legs apart.

“Yer gort somethin’ hot ‘n fresh fer me, biddie, do ye?”

The old woman screamed again and tried to push him away. Sass grabbed a handful of rough woven shirt.

The shorter man jerked around. “Wot this?”

Sass's fist connected with his jaw, soundly. The short man staggered sideways, bumping into a taller, thinner man, equally as drunk and equally as surprised at her appearance. The tall man pushed his friend back in her direction.

Sass brought her clasped fists down hard against the back of the man's neck and with a loud grunt, he collapsed to the ground. His weight pinned the legs of the old woman, who screamed hysterically again.

“Hey!” The taller man reared back, arm raised. Sass braced for the blow. But the arm halted in mid-air, its progress stopped by the black-gloved hand clamped on its wrist.

“Not a good idea,” Kel-Paten told him calmly.

“Huh?” the man said, just before he was tossed against a nearby wall as easily as if he were a paper doll.

Sass tried to push the limp weight of the short drunk off the women's legs.

Kel-Paten grabbed the unconscious man by the collar of his shirt. “I think he'd like to join his friend.” The man landed behind them with a loud, gurgling groan.

The old woman was crying, tugging her skirts down while at the same time grasping the shreds of her shawl around her.

“You're all right, you're safe,” Sass crooned softly, her arm around the woman's shoulder. “Can you stand?”

The woman hiccuped softly and nodded. “Aye, thank ye ... I thank ye, lass. I should, I should ne'er ha’ come doon this walkway. But I was late, and M'Lord gits in sooch a state.”

She struggled to her feet, with Kel-Paten holding one elbow and Sass the other. Her faded gray eyes looked from right to left and back to Sass on her right again.

“Ye be Warrior's Guild, ain't ye? Mistress, I am honored ye should coom to me aid. But I canna pay ye—”

Sass shook her head. “You don't owe me anything. You don't have to.”

But the woman had already searched her pockets and pressed a small coin into Sass's hand.

“‘Tis all I have, Mistress, but I honor the Guild, I do. Surely, I'd be a sight fer trouble wit'out ye.” She sighed raggedly. “But should ye be hungry, ye coom to the baker's stall in the market, on the morrow or any day. I owe ye, I do. I—”

At the sound of footsteps in the alleyway she stopped. The footsteps became more hurried.

“Talla!” a young man's voice shouted. “We was worried, we—”

“‘Tis all right, Edric,” the old woman said. “Now.” She fell into the younger man's arms, sobbing softly as she explained how she'd been attacked and then rescued by the two from the Warrior's Guild.

It was only after some cautious discussion that Sass and Kel-Paten figured out that ‘Talla’ was a title, much like Aunt (Talla's first name was Elgartha). And that Sass's garb, while unusual for village women, was indicative of women who were members of the Warrior's Guild, a small but respected collection of mercenaries.

Later, on Prancer and Bailey and heading back through the forest, additional coins pressed on them by Edric jangling in their pockets, Sass and Kel-Paten discussed what they'd learned in their few hours in the village.

Things were not well in LandsDown, as the small village nestled among the hills was called. Once a prosperous site, blessed by the stewardship of several noble families, LandsDown had experienced a series of inexplicable deaths and unsolved disappearances. Lord Crenmar had died suddenly, his daughter was missing. Sir Argo and Sir Raimund, both young men with bright futures, had also disappeared. There'd been bouts of crop failure and pestilence in the past six months since their disappearance—and over it all, rumors that a Wizard was at large.

“The Edict of Nonintervention,” Kel-Paten reminded her, “forbids us getting involved with developing civilizations.”

“That Edict,” Sass replied, “is several hundred thousand or maybe even million light years away from here. Kel-Paten, we don't know how long we'll be here, or what the outcome is going to be. We're going to need the help of these people if we intend to be able to mine those mountains for fuel. Surely the least we can offer in return is a little assistance in finding out about this Wizard character.”

“This is a low technology world—”

“I'm not talking about technology,” Sass said as they passed along the edge of a bubbling stream in the darkness. “I'm talking about Serafino. And Eden. We have two telepaths—well, one full-fledged telepath and one empath with serious telepathic leanings. This Wizard shit sounds right up their alley.”

“Serafino's alleys,” Kel-Paten countered tersely, “have always been paved with the stones of self-aggrandizement. For obvious reasons, he's far less anxious than we are in getting the shuttle functional, in returning home.”

And to resume the role of fugitive, Sass knew. If what he'd said about the Faction was true, she, Eden and even Kel-Paten were on the list of the hunted as well.

“How can we be sure,” Kel-Paten continued, “that any information Serafino claims to find on this purported Wizard is factual? And not designed to establish a little kingdom for himself here?”

“Eden—”

“—has an obvious bias,” he cut in.

Sass felt her jaw clench at Kel-Paten's insinuation that her friend's allegiance, and veracity, could be compromised. She'd known Eden Fynn a long time and they'd survived more than a few narrow escapes together.

“Eden,” she started again, “is trustworthy.”

“Eden,” he answered, “is in love.”

“And that makes her untrustworthy?” she shot back. Too late she remembered his secret letters to her.

“No,” he said quietly. “But sometimes love can make a person do desperate things.”

Like almost sacrificing his life to keep a damaged shuttle functioning. To save her life at the risk of his own.

“Not Eden,” she said. She shoved her heels into Bailey's side and urged the equinnard forward. Tank murruped his complaint at the sudden movement. She ignored it, just as she ignored the inexplicable tightness around her heart.

GALAXUS

Friend? A mottled pink and black nose snuffled soft fur.

Reilly stretched, slitted one eye open and inspected the fat young fidget anxiously nosing his face.

Friend, he replied sleepily. All ... well?

Yes! No!

Tell yes first.

Friend! Friend! New smells, new scents, friend. New! Tank paced back and forth. Reilly reached out one paw and playfully but firmly swatted Tank's hind leg.

Tank immediately sat.

Tell, commanded the older furzel.

Images flooded Reilly's mind. The equinnards. The forest, traveling on the equinnard's back. The denseness of the leaves. The stream. The village. A cacophony of sounds; a pungent texture of smells.

And then ‘MommySass’ running down the alleyway, Tank huffing and puffing to keep up with her.

Badmans. Badmans!

Reilly saw the confrontation and the arrival of ‘Tinsoldier'. And the return trip through the darkened forest, cradled against the warmth of MommySass once again.

Foodsmells! Foodsmells! Tank excitedly returned again to what he'd sensed in the village: cooking meats, thick stews, salty pickles. Port Bangkok born and bred, the stray fidget much preferred ‘man cooking’ to ‘ship cooking'. Replicator-created meals just didn't seem as good.

Reilly's own pink mouth watered as they shared the memory. He, too, preferred when MommyEden cooked things fresh from the hydroponics garden. He'd been long enough in her sheltered and loving care to find his recent meal of griztard and bug not quite to his liking.

Badmans is only badthing? Tank had said things were well and not well when he'd awakened Reilly. But his shared memory of the confrontation in the alley didn't match the disquiet he still sensed from the fidget.

Badmans silly. Not good is Bad Thing. Bad Thing. The fidget's tufted ears flattened against his head.

Bad Thing. Reilly had sensed the Bad Thing too, while still on the Big Ship with MommyEden. He listened for something deep and distant, his whiskers quivering.

Yes, Bad Thing. Bad Thing was here. Like a color-changing griztard, camouflaged in deep foliage, Bad Thing was here but not here. Seen but not seen. Heard but not heard. To look directly at Bad Thing was not to see it at all.

Protect. Protect MommyEden. Protect Sass.

The fidget's ears lifted slightly.

Protect.

He flexed his front claws, raking them against the shuttle's hard floor.

GALAXUS AFT CABIN

“Well, what do you think?” Eden twirled around in front of Sass, who inspected her from her seat in the rear of the cabin. “Will I fit in?”

Sass watched the full skirt billow out as her friend moved gracefully, revealing a layer of lace underneath. ‘Fitting in’ was critical, not only to survive, but to gather information on this Wizard plaguing LandsDown. A mission Kel-Paten finally agreed was necessary as well.

“From what I saw, it's perfect. Except for the military-issue boots, that is!” She laughed. “Maybe you could wrap some lace ribbons around them.”

Eden sighed. “If anyone questions, I don't know. I'll say they're riding boots, I guess.”

“Just keep those top two buttons undone on that blouse, Doc, and they won't be looking any farther than your cleavage, I promise!”

Eden glanced quickly down where the small pearl buttons had popped through the thin holes again. “Oh, damn!”

“At least the vest will keep the rest of your charms from spilling out!” Sass grinned. “Keep it laced or you might be in a whole new business when we get to town.”

“The Humping Healer?” Eden suggested in a sultry tone.

“Now that would be an interesting sign to see hanging outside a doorway there.” Sass pulled herself out of the softness of the seat with a small groan. “Gods, been a while since I've been on an equinnard. I've got aches in places I didn't even know I had places!”

“I'd recommend a long hot bath but that's not possible right now; at least, if there's a tub on this tub,” Eden teased, “I've not seen it.”

“No, no tub on this tub. No booze, either. Damn! That would help too, you know.” Sass rubbed absently at her behind. “Couple of nice pubs in LandsDown.”

“They allow women in them?”

Sass walked over to the bulkhead and, leaning her hands against it, proceeded to try to stretch the cramps out of the backs of her legs. “No, but yes,” she said, pushing against the wall. “No, not unescorted. But with your trusty escort from the Warrior's Guild,” and she shot a smile over her shoulder at Eden, “you can go just about anywhere.”

“My trusty escort, eh? Does that mean I'll be giving you orders, captain?”

“Damn! Didn't think of that.” Sass chuckled. “Be easy on me, Doc. I'm not used to following orders, you know.”

* * * *

Kel-Paten had been standing in the hatchway of the main cabin and caught the last few sentences in the exchange between the two friends. He also used the time to admire the length of black clad leg Sass showed, and the firm roundness of her behind. He'd been quiet up until that point, but at her last comment about her disinclination to follow orders, he felt compelled to reply. “That is an unquestioned fact.”

Eden twirled, a blur of pale blue satin and white lace. Sass only peered from under one outstretched arm. “Thank you very much, Kel-Paten, for your vote of confidence.”

“I'm sure it's not something the Doctor doesn't know,” he replied. He ran his gaze over Eden, who was adjusting the small buttons on her blouse again. “Remarkably appropriate,” he told her. “Though most of the women also have capes. Did you pack something like that as well?”

Eden shook her head. “A cape would have been hot and cumbersome on Station. Looks like we'll have to do some shopping in town to update our wardrobes.”

They fell into a discussion of their further needs in order to appear authentic, as well as the problem of what they would use for money. The small amount Sass had received from the old woman wasn't going to go very far. Kel-Paten hadn't yet been able to coax the ship's replicator into duplicating the local coinage.

Serafino joined them at this point, grumbling about what still needed to be repaired on the shuttle, and immediately agreed that funds had to be a top priority.

“Fortunately, we're dealing with a society that also accepts barter, or trades,” he said. “Granted, Sass here or Kel-Paten can claim membership in the Warrior's Guild. But unless there's a fight you can break up every hour on the hour, I don't see that as a reliable source of income in a village as small as you say it is.

“But Eden, as a healer and an herbalist, that's different,” he continued, lightly stroking the back of Eden's head. “There's probably a lot more ills than ill will,” he said with a grin. “With a little help from some discreetly hidden medicorders, we might just be able to pull off some medical miracles.”

“And the problems with this Wizard?” Sass asked him.

“I've been poking around a little, telepathically, while I worked on the shuttle's systems,” Serafino explained. “There's something out there. Quite possibly what I sensed before we arrived. I can't really tell more right now without letting it know I'm here, too. But yes, it's something I think I can deal with.”

Kel-Paten had been leaning against the back of Sass's seat during the entire discussion. This Wizard could be nothing more than coincidence fueled by superstition. But assigning Eden and Serafino to the problem kept Sass on his own team, so to speak. Still, as Serafino talked about the possible problem with the entity called the Wizard, he let the skepticism—and distrust—he felt show clearly on his face.

Neither Sass nor Eden, because of where they were seated, noticed. But he'd forgotten about Serafino's talents until a memory, deeply buried, surfaced unbidden in his mind. It was a memory of himself as an adolescent, still gangly and unsure with his new cybernetic limbs. Awkward. Ashamed.

Who's going to patch you up out here if we get into a real battle, Tin Soldier? Serafino asked. Spare parts from the shuttle?

Kel-Paten straightened abruptly, anger flooding his body before he got himself under control. He couldn't let Serafino goad him like that. After all, the man had only voiced—albeit mentally—what he himself had had to consider when they came dirtside: he was out of his element here. Any injuries to Sass (Gods forbid!) or Eden or Serafino could be handled in a normal human fashion, most likely by Eden.

Damage to his cybernetic systems was out of anyone's expertise, except for maybe Sass's. He didn't want her to know that side of him intimately.

He appeared full human, knew he looked full human. As long as he maintained that appearance, as long as she never saw the layers of plasteel under his synthedermetic skin, he believed, given time, Sass would view him as human.

No, there would be, could be, no accidents on his part. And maybe for all the irritation Serafino caused, it was just as well that he was once again reminded of the fact.

He leaned his arms back down against the top of Sass's seat and gave Serafino his best deadly, cold half-smile.

Serafino only replied with a raised eyebrow, and slipped his arm around Eden's waist. “It's getting late, milady Eden.”

“That it is,” Kel-Paten replied. “Serafino, you have first watch. I'll relieve you in four hours.” He didn't need Serafino's telepathy to know that the man had intended to spend the next few hours very intimately with Eden. His assigning Serafino first watch just short-circuited those plans. And sent a clear message to the Nasyry: Branden Kel-Paten was still in charge.

Serafino seemed unconcerned, accepting the assignment with a shrug. His voice sounded in Kel-Paten's mind as he stepped towards the hatchway: You won't win, Tin Soldier. An image of a beautiful dark-haired young woman accompanied his words.

Kel-Paten recognized her immediately: Bianca Serafino.

I know everything, Serafino's voice continued. And I will not forget.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

OUTSIDE THE GALAXUS

The night had not yet faded to dawn, but it wasn't far off. Eden automatically touched the laser pistol strapped to her hip as she finished her last inspection round of their campsite. Four hours earlier, she'd relieved the admiral, who'd relieved Jace. Now, she waited for Sass to arrive and take up the last quarter of the watch into daylight.

It had been a quiet watch, as expected. The data she'd been able to coax out of the working science scanners confirmed nothing overly large and dangerous in their corner of the land mass. The watch schedule had been set up more to warn of the curious than the carnivorous.

Eden had been scanning for something else, something Jace had felt and then later admitted he wasn't sure about.

He wasn't unsure, either. So she kept a close, but closed, mental watch as well.

That front, too, had been quiet.

Minutes later, she heard Sass's familiar feminine yet throaty tenor voice softly singing the refrain from an old tune. It was the captain's way of letting Eden know she was approaching; sneaking up on someone carrying a weapon was never a productive activity.

Eden joined her in the final refrain.

“All quiet?” Sass asked after they finished their impromptu duet.

Eden nodded. “Unless you count Reilly and Tank's murderous attack on a griztard colony about an hour ago, nothing to report.”

“Is that what that was?” Sass groaned.

Eden frowned. “They didn't make any noise.”

“No, but Tank came into my bunk a little while ago, proceeded to give himself a full bath and then farted. Bad! I think it's the griztards he's eating. You're going to have to have Serafino talk to Reilly about that.”

Tank did have a particularly potent brand of fidget farts. Eden made some sympathetic noises before turning the remainder of the watch over to Sass. She'd reached the hatchway of the shuttle when a low whistle to her right floated through the darkness. She froze. Then a mental sensation of warmth and reassurance cascaded through her and she smiled.

Jace stepped away from the shadows of a tree and held out his hand. “My lady? I require a bit of your time. I've something to show you.”

“Now? I was looking forward to about an hour's nap before diving into a cup of hot tea.”

“You may prefer this instead. Come.”

“Jace, it's still black as pitch out.”

“Come.”

She took his hand and followed him into the forest just as the first weak rays of light added a pale color to the sky. The denseness of the trees were still creating shadows so it wasn't until they were almost upon it that she saw the small grotto nestled against the side of the hill.

It was almost too beautiful—the lush green ferns surrounding the glass-like pool of water on which floated small white flowers in odd clusters. More flowers trailed down the rocks on her left and in the dim light she could only begin to guess at their colors. Purples, perhaps. Or deep blues.

Jace drew her against him, kissed her lightly and then pulled her down into a kneeling position beside the pool, guiding her hand into the water.

“Gods, it's warm!” Eden said, surprised. “It's—”

“An underground hot spring,” Jace supplied.

“It's wonderful! Sass will—”

“Find it later, love.” He grinned at her. “Right now it's for you and me.”

Hadn't she just been talking to Sass about the missing luxury of a hot bath? Eden skimmed her hand across the surface. “If we had some towels and some soap, it would be perfect.”

“Your wish is my command,” he told her with a light kiss. “Go on in. I'll be right back.”

His footsteps faded into the forest as Eden quickly stripped off her flightsuit, draping it over a low tree limb. The early morning air was damp and slightly chilled against her bare skin but as she slid into the silky, warm water of the pool she forgot that, forgot everything except how blessedly wonderful she felt.

The sky brightened, sending sparkles of golden light across the surface. She dipped her head below for a moment then resurfaced, and brushed her wet hair back from her face. The warmth of the water seemed to work deep into her shoulders and back and she felt her body relax as she moved with a light stroke to the other side of the pool, and a small rocky ledge ringed with flowers.

Purple. They were a brilliant purple and had the most wonderful scent...

She inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh.

A sudden splash made her turn, quickly. She caught a glimpse of a taut male body arching through the water, and then a dark head appeared.

Jace shook his head like a dog shedding water, sending droplets in an outward pattern. Then he ducked under again and when he resurfaced, he ran one hand through his long, dark hair, pulling it away from his face.

He grinned at her. “Well?”

“This is wonderful! Incredible!”

He swam over to her. “Take one of those and crush it in your hand.”

Eden had been leaning with one arm against the low rocky ledge, her toes just barely brushing the sandy bottom of the pool. “One of the flowers?” she asked, motioning with her free hand.

“Umm-hmm. Crush it in your hand.”

“Why?” They were so lovely. It seemed a waste.

“Because,” he said and when she made no move to comply reached around her and grabbed a handful of purple blossoms, his body brushing against hers as he did so.

She could feel the lean muscle of him, the soft yet bristly hair on his chest, and drew an involuntary breath. He'd been her patient, then her friend and then something more. They'd kissed—oh, how they'd kissed! And he'd teased her and nibbled her neck ... and she'd felt comfortable with him, so comfortable that she hadn't given a second thought to sharing this pool, naked with him.

Until now. Until the hardness of his body against hers spoke to something deep and primal inside of her. Until the look in his eyes suddenly contained more passion, more desire than she'd ever thought possible.

Taller than her, Jace stood on the sandy bottom of the pool, rubbing the crushed, fragrant blossoms between the palms of his hands. Their sweet aroma was intoxicating, tantalizing...

And then he touched her. His large hands, slick with the oil from the flowers, gently grasped her shoulders and his fingers began to knead the potent oil into her skin. His hands moved down her arms, massaging her muscles tenderly but insistently until he reached her hands and, clasping them in his own, brought them to his lips and kissed her fingers.

He pressed a handful of blossoms into her hands. She crushed them, releasing their scent, then threaded her perfumed fingers through the mat of dark hair on his chest and up over his shoulders til her arms wrapped around his neck, her body slippery against his.

He covered her mouth with his own, kissing her deeply, his tongue hot and probing as his own male hardness rubbed against her thigh. His hands worked their way up her back, his thumbs making small circles on her spine, and when she finally pulled her face away, he encircled her waist with one arm, using the water's buoyancy to hold her against him.

He'd taken another handful of crushed flowers. His free hand cupped her breast, slick and slippery, his fingers teasing her nipples into taut rosy peaks.

Eden sighed raggedly, arching against him and then his mouth was on her neck. He groaned her name, softly.

“Gods, woman, how I've wanted you...”

Eden found herself unable to reply but let her hands and lips speak for her, exploring him, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin.

His hands grasped her thighs, lifting her and yet pulling her closer. She knew instinctively what he wanted and responded by wrapping her legs around him.

His kisses were more passionate, more demanding. When he slid into her, hot and hard and throbbing, she could do little more than gasp into his mouth, a gasp that turned into a low sigh of pure pleasure.

They moved together in an ancient rhythm, sending small ripples outward through the clusters of pale flowers floating around them.

As dawn broke over the mountain horizon, Jace's own control broke and he thrust deep inside her, letting his passion explode in an intensity that left them both clinging to each other, wanting more yet feeling at that moment more was simply not definable.

“I'm sorry.” His voice was husky. “I wanted the first time to be ... better. But it's been so long. I wanted you so badly. Eden, I—”

She took his face in her hands and kissed him, silencing his useless apologies. She couldn't imagine a ‘better'.

Then later, when he led her out of the water and proceeded to towel her down on the small beach, he taught her just how limited her imagination really was.

BACK AT THE SHUTTLE...

Sass, seated on the low metal step at the base of the shuttle's rampway, accepted the cup of hot coffee from the admiral with a nod. “Have you seen Eden or Serafino?”

“Isn't she napping? She usually—”

“Pops in for a quick nap after her shift, yes, I know. I checked about ten minutes ago to see if she wanted me to brew some tea as I was going to start the coffee anyway—and her bunk's empty. Not been slept in.”

Kel-Paten sat down next to her, not too close, she noticed, but not too far away. “Are you worried?”

Sass shook her head. “If there was a problem, Reilly would know. Both furzels have come a long way since Serafino's worked with them.” Which was true, though it hadn't done anything for Tank's propensity to fart.

“Perhaps we should—”

The sound of low laughter stopped Kel-Paten's words. There was a rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs and a moment later Jace and Eden emerged, hand in hand, out of the forest's edge and into the morning sunlight. Their faces were flushed, their hair was wet and both had wide grins on their faces.

“Oh-ho! Looks like mom and dad are waiting up for us, darlin'!” Jace drew Eden closer to him.

Eden blushed shyly. “We, ummm, there's this wonderful pool. A hot spring, actually, just about a mile or so from here. It's ... quite nice.” She looked up at Jace.

“Wonderful,” he intoned.

“Very ... relaxing,” Eden added.

“Quite. Restorative, even.”

“Therapeutic.” She was starting to giggle.

“Energizing.” Jace fought to keep a straight face.

“Okay! Okay!” Sass held up one hand. “If I need a thesaurus, I'll call on you two!” She swatted at Eden as she approached. “Go get some tea. We have a full day ahead of us. And get into costume, and out of that flightsuit.”

Kel-Paten waited until the shuttle hatchdoor whooshed closed.

“I think she's already been out of that flightsuit,” he stated evenly but not without a small note of derision in his voice.

Sass shot him a questioning glance. “This concerns you, admiral?” she asked. Then, before he could reply, she continued: “I mentioned it before. We have to forgo a lot of the military protocol here. It's just the four of us and HQ is the Gods only know how many parsecs away. Or quadrants away. Or systems away.”

“I didn't mean it—”

“Didn't you? It's no secret to me, or anyone—you hate Serafino. As long as you held rank over him on board, that was fine with you. But like I said. We're not on board the Vax anymore. You can't dictate what Serafino, or even Eden, do with their personal time.”

“Sebastian.” Pause. Emotion flared briefly in pale blue eyes. “I never dictated what anyone did with their personal time. Not on the Vax. Not now.”

Yeah, and fidget's don't fart, Sass thought, not even bothering to bring up all the instances where Kel-Paten had assigned her to this-that-or-the-other-thing just when she was due some R&R. Or while she was on R&R.

She downed the last of her coffee and stood. “I've got to change my clothes too,” she told him then turned and walked quickly up the ramp.

* * * *

He sat for a minute after she left, disturbed that she once again had defended Serafino (the fact that Sass had also defended her friend, Eden, was dismissed in his mind). And that she'd felt it necessary to give him a dressing-down, albeit a small one. Yet in one sense, if he allowed himself to try to read between the lines, it wasn't that bad. She seemed to be suggesting that they drop any hierarchy based on rank. That was fine with him—he really wanted to see the day she called him Branden and not ‘admiral’ or ‘Kel-Paten'. He wanted her to see the man and not the legend.

It was all he'd really ever wanted since she'd come on board. Which was why he'd taken up so much of her time; even her off-duty time. Which, he knew, was what she'd alluded to a moment ago.

And not very happily.

He bit back a frustrated sigh. Every time he felt he might be getting somewhere with her, he'd find they'd only taken another step backwards.

Let's drop military rankings, she'd said, and then followed it with: Let's not get personal.

He didn't know how to do that. Military protocol and professional ethics were the only things that had kept him from grabbing her and kissing her senseless more than once.

A noise from behind him made him pull abruptly out of his thoughts and turn. What he saw almost made him fall over backwards.

Sass stood at the top of the rampway, clad in tight black leather pants that laced provocatively up the outside of her legs. A white, filmy long-sleeved collarless shirt was held against her by an equally form-fitting black leather vest, also with lacings up the front, drawing his eyes to an enticing show of cleavage. A long sheathed sword hung by her left side; the silver hilt of a dagger peeked from out of the top of her right boot. She moved down the ramp with a sinewy, almost furzel-like grace until she came to stand before him, arms crossed over her chest.

“You said you wanted to get to LandsDown before noon. Eden and Serafino are almost ready.”

Right now he didn't give a damn about Eden and Serafino. Right now he wanted throw her into that soft green bed of flowers over there and take her outfit off ... with his teeth. He licked his lips, unconsciously.

“Admiral—?”

He closed his eyes briefly. Admiral. He was Admiral Kel-Paten in the Triad Fleet. Right. And she was Captain Tasha Sebastian. Okay. Okay.

“Okay,” he said out loud, opening his eyes. “I ... I just have to change my shirt.” His Triad black uniform pants would suffice for his costume. He stood, let his eyes rake over her once again. He was only inches from her. Mere inches. He could smell her perfume, a heady, musky scent of sandalwood...

“I left the other broadsword on your bunk,” she was saying.

He watched her mouth move. She'd kissed him, once. He remembered that, remembered the feel of her mouth on his. Hell, he remembered it nightly. And twice at noon.

“Eden didn't think the sword would fit with her image as a healer.”

“Oh?” He knew who Eden was but couldn't even picture her at the moment. All he could see in his mind was the dark and cramped engine compartment of the shuttle behind them, and Sass, her face full of emotion and concern, yelling at him, grabbing him, and then the heat of her lips on his, the taste of her, a mixture of his sweat and her tears...

“...but we figured we should all carry stunners concealed, in case...” Sass paused, as if she'd suddenly realized he was staring at her.

A light morning breeze rustled through the branches and brushed by his face, but it did nothing to cool the heat he felt between himself and Sass. He stepped closer, closing those few inches that had separated them and she responded, tilting her face up towards his, her hands somehow finding their way splayed against his dark shirt—

The shuttle hatchway whooshed open again and Serafino clomped noisily out onto the metal platform.

“Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum!” he bellowed, holding his arms out and shaking his fists at the sky in mock anger. “Is this a great shirt, or what?”

Sass sprang backwards quickly. Serafino was stomping around in a kind of war dance on the ramp platform, his gauzy, full sleeved white shirt billowing around his outstretched arms. Then Eden appeared, laughing, tying a lacey blue ribbon in her hair.

“Hold still, Jace, damn it! Hold still!” she admonished him as, finished with her own tresses, she worked on tying his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Tasha.” Kel-Paten said her name softly, the deep ache in his body making his voice rasp. She glanced at him. “Tasha, I—”

“You'd better go get changed,” she told him. “We've got a lot to do before nightfall. I'll go find the equinnards.”

She turned abruptly and headed towards the edge of the forest.

HAVEN-ONE'S FOREST

What in hell had come over her? Sass plunged into the forest with anger at herself pounding through her footsteps. Gods’ feathered asses, what had come over her? She'd almost ... almost kissed Kel-Paten. The Tin Soldier. Her C.O. and a major royal pain in the ass.

Okay, so she'd kissed him once before, but that was different. That was a diversion, a move out of desperation to stop him from doing something stupid.

But this ... this was just a balmy morning with no major concerns or worries and she'd just about fallen into his arms.

Something was very wrong here.

Granted, it had been a while since she'd been involved with anyone. But hell, she was almost forty and her pub-crawling, stud-seeking days were long behind her. She'd had her fill of military-groupies and officer-groupies and whatever other title turned on the male spaceport bar griztards. Plus, there'd always been Zan, her friend and confidant and sometime lover since they were kids on Farside Station.

But it had been, what, almost a year since she'd seen Dag Zanorian? Then involved with wife number four at the time, he hadn't been what she would have called ‘available'—though he seemed to think so. But then, Zan was known for many things, and fidelity wasn't one of them.

Which was why they'd gotten along so well for so many years. Her career had always come first and commitment was something she understood only in military terms. The thought of spending the rest of her life with only one man frankly scared the hell out of her; she had a short attention span when it came to the male of the species. In other words, she bored easily.

‘Sass the Non-Committed', Eden had once chided her. Don't get involved for fear they'd want to make it permanent. And don't get involved because you're afraid of the permanence, and the hurt in their eyes when you tell them so.

Because permanence meant intimacy. And intimacy meant answers she might not be able to give, to questions she didn't want to hear.

And that's maybe just why she was so afraid of Kel-Paten. Not that he was a bio-cybe. Not that he held the exalted position of Fleet Admiral. Not that more than half of civilized space lived in fear of him.

None of that really bothered her. It was the way he looked at her. It was the way he was always there. It was the way he would've given his life to save her. And the way he'd loved her for more years than any sane male should have.

But it wasn't Sass he loved. It was Tasha Sebastian, the totally fictitious orphan of totally fictitious wealthy parents. Without which, she'd never had been granted admittance to the academy, never have achieved the rank of captain.

If she let him get close to her, sooner or later, he'd know. So the best she could offer him would be a brief fling before she moved on.

And it would come to that. Sooner or later with Sass it always did. Love ‘em and leave ‘em, Eden would chastise her. And she had, for years, because it had been necessary. It never really bothered her.

Until now.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LANDSDOWN

Their entry into the rustic village was heralded by no fanfare, no scrutiny and barely even a nod. Of course, no one watching the two men and two women ride past the main gate could discern they were being visited by people from another galaxy. Probably, no one watching even knew there were other galaxies, Eden mused as they slowed their progress to allow a heavily burdened cart to pass before them. They'd traveled more than just hundreds of thousands of parsecs away from Triad Space. From her viewpoint, they'd traveled hundreds of years back into the past.

Following directions from a street corner flower seller, they wound down narrow cobblestoned lanes until they saw the large square sign swinging from a metal rod on the outside of a red brick two story building. The sign was that of the local healer; an elderly man, they were told, who'd taken over the practice after his sister's death. He didn't have his late sister's patience—or patients! And when Eden introduced herself as a traveling herbalist and healer willing to assist in his practice, he spent a good fifteen minutes kissing her hand in gratitude.

Evidently satisfied that her CMO was in good hands, literally, Sass took her leave with a nod to Master Grendar. “The adm—Kel-Paten and I will be at that pub later. We're going to seek out the local Warrior's Guild.”

Grendar seemed much more at ease after the leather clad, small but obviously dangerous woman left. “You, my dear Lady Eden, are the answer to a tired old man's prayers!” He ushered her towards an overstuffed yellow couch. The couch, like most of the furniture in the dimly lit drawing room, was surrounded by jars and vials and small boxes that held a wide variety of herbs and potions. Eden stepped gingerly over the cluttered piles. The couch was surprisingly soft and comfortable. Perhaps, she thought as Jace took the seat next to her, few had been able to traverse the mess far enough to sit on it.

My thoughts exactly, love!

She felt Jace's warm smile in her mind. Grendar really needs some help, she told him as a plump housekeeper bustled in with a tray of tea and cakes.

“M'lord Jace? M'lady? Please help yourselves. Nordra is not much of a tidier, I'll admit, but she does brew a wonderful cup of tea.” Grendar smiled broadly.

It was a wonderful cup of tea, Eden noted appreciatively and for all the mess and all the disorder, Grendar was a relatively accomplished healer. But she and Jace could do more, much more, which would provide them not only with a source of income, but also help out the small and friendly village.

Jace was reaching for his third fruit tart drizzled with a dark chocolate sauce when Grendar's tinny brass bell jangled. A young stablehand had fallen from a hayloft—fortunately landing on several bales of hay or he would have had injuries more serious than a dislocated shoulder and the usual bruising. Eden mentally felt for more serious internal injuries and, finding none, realigned the boy's shoulder and sent him on his way with a small jar of salve to relieve the pain and aid in healing. Along with that Jace admonished the lad not to add strong drink to his lunch on work days. The stablehand responded with a wide-eyed stare.

“How'd you—I mean, yes, m'lord. I will. Ye be sure I'll be right as rain from nigh on in, I will, sir.” He nodded, backing out of the door, clearly surprised at Jace's uncovering of his secret pastime.

“I was a bit unruly as a youth,” Jace explained as Grendar looked questioningly at him. “He's at the age when having a few pints with the lads at lunch is a sign of prowess.”

“Aye, been years since I was a lad, but I remember how we was a bit wild, too.” Grendar nodded understandingly and then shuffled off towards the kitchen to ask Nordra to brew more tea.

Eden smiled at Jace. “When did you stop being unruly?” she teased.

“So it was just a small lie.” He kissed the back of her neck lightly.

Lightly, Eden knew, because Jace sensed Grendar was returning—just as he had known what had really precipitated the boy's fall. Ever since she'd disconnected the implant in his head, his telepathic powers had returned strongly. It took very little effort now for him to pick up on the thoughts and emotions of others—and very little effort to send his own hot and passionate emotions to Eden. Like right now.

Her hands momentarily froze over the boxes of dried herbs she was sorting as he sent her some very strong, very erotic images of what further pleasures awaited her by their little pool.

She sent back an equally arousing visual response.

Only Grendar's return stopped then and there from throwing themselves onto the yellow couch. She had a fleeting glimpse of Jace's intention to cover her with some of Nordra's delicious chocolate sauce.

It would ruin the couch, she scolded him with a grin.

I'd buy the old man a new one. I'd buy him ten couches!

“Well!” Grendar looked from a smiling Jace to a naughtily grinning Eden. “It certainly is nice to work with two such happy people!”

Jace lay one hand affectionately on the old man's shoulder. “Trust me, Master Grendar, there is no one happier in the entire village of LandsDown than Lady Eden and myself right now.”

LANDSDOWN MAIN STREET

Branden Kel-Paten was miserable. Somehow, he'd lost track of Sass. He wasn't quite sure how.

They'd sought out the local Warrior's Guild only to find the headquarters empty. Several conversations with street urchins later, they surmised that the Guild was predominantly inactive in LandsDown. The village was a quiet and peaceful place, populated by shopkeepers and farmers who, for the most part, got along. What warriors had once resided in the village had long since moved on to larger—and more lucrative—cities.

Oh, there was the occasional drunk, like the ones Sass had stumbled over accosting the old woman. But that was the exception, not the rule and one rescue was not going to afford them saddles and clothing and other items needed at this point.

Like a Hyperlinked Transconductive Recompositor. Or whatever raw materials they could find to construct an HTRC so they could convert the raw crystalline ore Eden's science scans had confirmed in the mountain range into fuel for their shuttle. So they could get off this Gods-damned dirtball that was firmly ensconced in medieval history, and get back to where they belonged. To where he and Sass belonged—on the Vax. Or even T'Garis. He'd almost forgotten his promise to ask her to go there. Right now he'd even settle for Port Bangkok, or anywhere in civilized space. Anywhere their commbadges operated so that he wouldn't be wandering around this damned village with no idea of where she was, and no way to find her. Except by looking in every shop and market and tailor and pub...

It was in the fifth pub that he found her, after striding up and down rough and dusty alleyways for almost two and a half hours, his equinnard, Prancer, plodding patiently behind him.

He probably could've covered more ground riding, but his rear end was too sore and with no saddle and no saddle blanket, Prancer's hard spine was less than inviting.

So he'd walked, trudged and poked until it was well past noontime and he'd not even had lunch.

And then he found her. Or rather, heard her. Her voice—used to issuing commands—carried out into the street from the dark depths of a rather disreputable looking pub.

“Seven, seven, seven! C'mon baby, roll ‘em now, roll ‘em! Give me a sweet seven! Momma needs new shoes!”

The biofilters in his eyes immediately adjusted for the change in light when he stepped inside. He saw her at once, kneeling on the floor, surrounded by a motley looking group of farmers and tradesman. And one man who appeared, by his dress, to be wealthier than the rest.

They formed an elongated circle with Sass at one end, and the pale flash of the now tumbling dice at the other.

He watched the cubes fall and stop with five dots facing up on one, and two dots on the other.

“Lucky Seven!” someone called out.

A female voice whooped in glee. The only female voice in the room. He stepped up next to her.

She looked up. “‘Lo, Kel-Paten.”

“Sebastian,” he said and paused, waiting for the usual rejoinder. It never came. She was too busy collecting her winnings.

“Okay, boys, okay. Pay up, now.” She held out her hand. Coins rained into it. She was transferring them into a small leather pouch when her progress was stilled by the well-dressed man kneeling next to her. He took her wrist, lightly but firmly, and brought it to his lips.

Something in Kel-Paten went white-hot and then cold.

“I request a rematch, Lady Tasha,” the man was saying. “You win, I'll triple your winnings.”

“And if I lose?” Sass asked. Kel-Paten noticed the man still held her hand. And noticed also the decidedly hungry gleam in the man's eyes.

“I would hope,” the man said smoothly, “that you would not view losing to me as a loss. I would propose ... dinner. Perhaps a nice bottle of wine or two. I am asking only for your time, lady.”

“I'm flattered, your lordship, but I'm not for sale,” Sass replied with a measured sweetness.

A low chuckle moved around the group.

“My lady, forgive me.” The man bowed his head briefly. “I didn't mean to imply—”

“She's not for sale.” Kel-Paten's voice thundered and the room immediately hushed.

Sass swiveled around. The well-dressed man was already rising, his luxurious cape falling gracefully about his broad shoulders. If he were bothered by the fact that Kel-Paten was several inches taller than he, the calm and controlled look on his handsome face gave no clue to that. Nor did the way he genteelly extended his hand.

“I don't believe we have been introduced. I'm Tristan Dalbaran, Duke of LandsDown Keep.”

Kel-Paten glared at the sandy-haired man and ignored his outstretched hand. “She's not for sale,” he repeated tersely. “Captain Sebastian—”

“Captain?” Lord Tristan turned to the small blonde standing between them. “I was not aware of any woman ever—”

“It's a long story,” Sass cut in smoothly with a quick and decidedly irritated glance at Kel-Paten. He knew immediately why: captain. He'd used her title and shouldn't have.

“And a fascinating one, I'm sure,” Tristan replied. He bowed graciously to Sass. “Let us forget this minor diversion, then, my lady. I extend only the most honorable of offers. Would you care to dine with me, at the Keep? Squire Ferbtil and his wife share my table most Fourthday evenings. Your presence would be a delightful addition to our threesome.”

“No,” said Kel-Paten.

“I'd love to,” said Sass.

“Your ... associate would of course be welcome as well,” Lord Tristan told Sass with a cursory glance at Kel-Paten.

Sass sighed. “I'm afraid, my lord, that if your generous invitation is also to include Kel-Paten, I would have to impose on you further by advising you I am traveling with two more companions: Lady Eden of Fynn, an accomplished healer and her consort, Lord Jace Serafino.”

“I would be delighted to meet your traveling companions,” Lord Tristan said warmly.

Kel-Paten knew that whatever dislike he'd felt at first spotting the man had now grown into a full fledged hatred.

“Tomorrow night, then, Fourthday? At the Keep?” Lord Tristan took Sass's hand once more and grazed her knuckles with a light kiss.

“I look forward to it, m'lord,” Sass said.

“Not as much as I, my lady captain. Not as much as I.”

With Lord Tristan's departure the show, as far as the gamblers in the pub were concerned, was over, and they ambled in small groups towards the bar. A fresh platter of meat pies was just now being brought out by a balding barkeep who was no doubt only too glad a fist-fight had not ensued.

Sass glared up at Kel-Paten, arms folded across her chest.

“I thought we didn't interfere in someone else's personal life,” she said in a quietly angry tone.

“My officers are not for sale,” he replied after a moment of tense silence.

“I wasn't offering myself!” she snapped back. “Damn it, power down! Those Gods-damned eyes of yours are going to have someone calling in the local priest to have you burned at the stake, if you're not careful.”

He'd powered up the minute Lord Tristan had touched her, then forgotten about it. He closed his eyes and briefly turned his face away.

When he opened them again, she was already striding towards the door, head held high, shoulders back, a decided swagger in the unmistakable feminine sway of her hips.

She was pissed. She was royally, royally pissed. At him. Just as she had been so many times on the Vax.

There she'd sought her comfort in the gym, or in Dr. Fynn's office. Or in the lounge, nursing her mood through a tall glass of iced gin with some of her staff from the Regalia.

But now she had somewhere else to go, someone else to go to. Someone who would no doubt be very glad to tell her what an uncivilized, unmannered, uncouth bastard Branden Kel-Paten was.

It was nothing, Kel-Paten knew, Sass hadn't heard—or thought—before.

However, this time it would be Lord Tristan Dalbaran telling her. The Duke of LandsDown Keep. A full human, virile, very available male.

So as far as Kel-Paten was concerned, a full scale intergalactic war was more than preferable to dinner at the Keep tomorrow night.

At least with the former, he had a chance of winning.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Kel-Paten caught up with her a few doors down, in front of a candlemaker's shop. She tugged up her sleeve and glanced discreetly at her watch as he strode up beside her. “We're meeting Serafino and Eden at a pub about two alleys away.”

He knew that. It had been one of the reasons he'd been looking so diligently for her. Not that he thought she wouldn't make the appointed meeting time. A memory of Sass, in her ‘No! No! Bad Captain!’ shirt, colliding with him in the corridor as the red alert sirens blared, then handling the subsequent crisis with her usual aplomb, flashed briefly through his mind. No, he knew she'd show for their prearranged meeting.

He just wanted to be by her side when she did so. After Serafino's strident warning last night, he knew he couldn't afford to let Jace speak to Sass alone. Not for the first time, the Nasyry had accessed memories he had no right to see. And no right to share. And share he would with Sass, Kel-Paten believed. Given the chance to do so. Because of what he thought Kel-Paten had done to his sister, Bianca.

Kel-Paten had no intention of giving him the chance to do so.

They turned left at the second alleyway. Sass had said nothing more since he'd caught up to her. Her usual playful sarcasm would be preferable to the silence. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but no idea where to start.

And no time, because a few feet in front of them was a low, wide doorway with a wooden sign swinging overhead. ‘The Laughing Cow’ was lettered in red on the sign; letters that were similar to Triad Standard, just as the language spoken in LandsDown was similar to Triad Standard. Though the local accent, and cadence, was different. He didn't know the word ‘cow’ but a crudely drawn but colorful depiction of a luba was in the center.

He ducked his head as he entered, his eyes adjusting immediately to the change in lighting. His nose caught some surprisingly delicious aromas.

Sass slowed, blinking. Her eyes couldn't filter the lighting as his could. He wanted to take her arm, guide her, but the hard set of her shoulders told him she was still angry. His touch wouldn't be welcome, and not just because of what he was.

So he pointed, past the two burly men in well-stained tunics, arguing loudly; past the well-endowed barmaid in the brightly beribboned apron threading her way towards them, a large metal tankard in one hand; past the thin old man seated on a bench in front of the low-burning fire, his gnarled hands wrapped around the bulbous end of a cane. “There. By the back wall.”

Serafino and Eden sat on one side of a rough-hewn table, a loaf of bread on a wooden tray in front of them. Eden wiggled her fingers in the air. Sass waited until they were closer then tossed a small sack in the air. Serafino caught it, hefted it and let out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Would have done better at Starfield Doubles.” Sass accepted the small sack back from him, taking the seat on the bench across from Eden. “But they don't know the game here. Yet.”

Kel-Paten caught her mischievous grin as he sat next to her, but it was directed at her friend, not himself.

“What were you playing?” Serafino asked, including Kel-Paten in his question with a short nod.

“It was kind of like Two Cube, but more like it's played on Kesh Valiir. Not like you play it in the Triad,” Sass said before he could explain he hadn't been there. But wished, after seeing Lord Dalbaran's interest in Sass, he had been. “Or like it's played in the sanctioned casinos. I had to watch for a game or two to catch on.”

“Or to identify the patsies,” Eden said with a low and knowing laugh.

“It's not like a fight breaks out in this village every half hour, you know.” Sass briefly outlined their earlier findings and the reasons behind the absence of the Warrior's Guild in the village.

A serving girl placed a plate of hot meat and vegetable stew on the table.

“Jace ordered some food,” Eden said. “Hope you don't mind.”

Kel-Paten didn't though no one seemed interested in his opinion. The menu offerings appeared to be nothing short of delicious. Or maybe he'd just had replicator food for too long.

A large shank of meat on a platter came next, followed by a smaller platter of shellfish.

Sass groaned. “I don't know if I can afford your tastes, ‘Fino.”

That started some good-natured teasing back and forth. Only Kel-Paten was quiet, sampling his dinner without any comment. Sass wasn't speaking to him. With Serafino at her side, Eden barely noticed him. And Serafino ... well, Kel-Paten had no idea how much Serafino knew or, worse, was telepathically and empathically picking up on. He just knew that whatever Serafino had to say, he was in no mood to hear it.

Eden briefed them on what had happened at their first day at Master Grendar's.

“Were you able to learn anything about this malevolent energy source?” Sass asked Serafino pointedly.

“Neither Eden nor I picked up on anything unusual. And we thought it better not to ask things like that on day one. Once we know the villagers a bit better and have their trust, we'll be able to get answers.”

“A few days, perhaps,” Eden volunteered.

“Tomorrow,” Sass said. “We have a dinner invitation from a duke. Command performance, you know.” She filled in the details of her meeting Lord Dalbaran.

“Well, well, well!” Serafino said.

Kel-Paten refused to raise his eyes, refused to look anywhere but his dinner. He'd heard definite undercurrents in Serafino's brief comment and he knew the mercenary captain wasn't wondering about tomorrow night's menu.

Eden's thoughts traveled in a more practical vein. “We'll have to present very tight cover stories. In a setting like that, it's only natural for people to ask where someone's from, who they know.”

Serafino speared another roasted rib with his knife. “I asked Grendar if I could borrow a book of maps he had, and took one on history as well. That should help.”

“We won't be Lord Tris's only guests,” Sass said. “He mentioned a Squire Ferbtil and his wife.”

Lord Tris. Lord Tris. Kel-Paten heard the familiarity in the shortened name. Not Lord Tristan or Lord Dalbaran or even Duke LandsDown. Hell's ass! Eleven years he'd known Sass and he was still Kel-Paten. A few hours this silk-shirted pretty boy knows her, and he's already ‘Lord Tris'.

Serafino seemed interested that Ferbtil would be there. “Grendar mentioned him briefly. He said Ferbtil's a bit of a, how did he say it? Oh, a ninny wit, but basically harmless. Ferbtil's popular, like a scatter-brained old uncle. And coming from Grendar,” he added with a smile, “that must be something!”

“Did he mention Tris?” Sass asked, nibbling thoughtfully on a large vegetable floret.

Kel-Paten's grasp on his fork tightened until it threatened to snap. Tris.

“Not specifically, but he did mention the Keep a couple of times. Now I know what he was talking about.”

“Umm, yes. I remember.” Eden pushed a large part of her shellfish to one end of her plate. She automatically cut it into small portions for the furzels. “Grendar said that the Keep helped the village repair the water system. And had acquired new stones for the roads leading northward last year. I thought at the time he referred to the local government, but I guess now he meant the Duke's family. Did Lord Tris mention any family?” she asked Sass.

“His mother, the Dowager Duchess. I gather she lives quite a distance south of here. Better climate or something like that.”

“So they have their luxury destinations, too, hmm?” Eden asked teasingly.

“And there was,” Sass continued, “a cousin that Tris—”

The metal fork snapped in Kel-Paten's hand with an audible crack.

“—said he'd been close to years ago. But I really don't know more than that.”

The conversation—without Kel-Paten's input—drifted to the general political layout of the village and what little had been learned about LandsDown in particular that day, when all of a sudden, as tea was being served, Eden sat up straight and stared at Sass.

“Oh my Gods!” she gasped. “We have nothing to wear!”

GALAXUS STORAGE BAY

Sass sat cross-legged in the middle of the storage bay, satiny fabrics to her left, muslins to her right and all around a rainbow of colors: crimsons and violets, pale blues and cream golds. Lace peeked out here, a row of pearly buttons there. She sighed and looked plaintively at Eden. “There's nothing to wear.”

Eden turned from the mirror where she'd been holding a pale violet gown trimmed in slate blue up against her shoulders. Had they had the replicator system of the Regalia or the Vax at their disposal, their limited selection of costumes wouldn't be a problem. But they didn't and the shuttle replicators were programmed to dispense only the basics, and in military mode at that. Out of the five gowns now strewn about the floor (and the one in Eden's hands), four were Eden's from past Old Legend Fairs. Only two were Sass's size. Eden was a good six inches taller than Sass, decidedly full-figured and with a fuller bustline. No amount of last minute pinning would do.

“You're going to have to wear the silver one,” Eden told her. The only other choice was a green muslin and that was far too casual for dinner at the Keep.

Sass narrowed her eyes. “Oh great. I'll look like a damn bride. Or a ghost, with this pale hair of mine!”

Eden grinned. “Ooohhhh!” she crooned, making ghost-like noises. “Maybe the Keep is haunted!”

Sass reached back and threw the first thing she lay her hands on. Tank yowled as the object was ripped from his teeth. Eden unraveled it after it hit her in the stomach and held it out for Sass's inspection.

“This might work.”

“A sweater? Eden, this isn't the Red Light district of Port Bangkok. I'll need more than a shaliswool—”

“The fur collar. I can tack that to the neckline of that silver dress. That'll take away the severity of it and, well...”

“Thank you very much, I know I'm rather small up top!” Sass glared at Eden in mock sternness. “So the fur will add a bosom, eh? Hey, tack Reilly to my chest and I'll be a real knock out!”

At the sound of his name, Reilly stuck his head out from under a pile of lace and murrupped. Tank promptly pounced on him and the next few minutes were taken up with a game of Furzel Tussle.

Eden gathered what she needed. Clothes were only a part of the problem of life on Haven-One. But they were one of the easier ones. Mining the mountain range for the needed ore for fuel, repairing the shuttle and gaining the trust of the villagers while doing so were the more difficult.

As was keeping Jace from baiting the admiral. She understood his reasons, but his methods disconcerted her.

And worried her. She loved Jace. Loved him more than she ever thought possible.

That worried her, too. Because Haven-One or not, she was still a Fleet officer. She'd never had her loyalty, and her love, so at odds before.

GALAXUS

Sass had opted not to return to the Village with Eden and Jace the next morning, which was fine by Kel-Paten. He accepted her comment that to try to increase her gambling winnings so soon after her last win would no doubt cause some resentment in the small village. He really didn't care what the reason was. He was just glad to keep her away from the village, away from Lord Tristan and away from the rest of the hungry male eyes that turned her way every time she walked into a pub or a shop.

Not that the village men didn't stare longingly after Eden as well. They did and Kel-Paten had noted it. But he also had noted the way Eden stayed by Serafino's side; how Serafino protectively and often possessively had his hand on her arm, or around her shoulder. That they were a couple was very clear to anyone who could see.

Not so with Sass, who forever walked ahead of him, or took detours to the left and right, her small form slipping easily in and out of the crowds with a grace, he suspected, honed by her undercover training. Or perhaps her parents’ wealth had provided her with classical dance lessons. She moved like a dancer, her motions fluid.

He turned his attention back to his repairs on the auxiliary thruster. It kept him from thinking about that dreaded dinner at the Keep tonight. He hated social engagements, but at least at ones in the Triad most people knew to stay away from him.

Yet oddly enough, just before this whole situation had unfolded, he'd actually been looking forward to a proposed social engagement—taking Sass to the casinos on T'Garis. And later, to the ritual parties celebrating Rohly Kel-Tyra's impending nuptials.

At least there no one would have dared approach Sass once he'd defined himself as her escort.

The frantic beeping of the analyzer in his hand brought his attention back to the mechanical matters before him. He adjusted the power levels. But thoughts of Sass crept back into his mind again.

For so many years he'd wanted a chance to be with her without his reputation, without his infamous pedigree interfering. Here, on Haven-One, he had that chance. And yet now he found himself wishing he could broadcast that pedigree, tell this Lord Tristan just who and what he was and thereby keep this interloper away from Sass.

It was a totally nonsensical wish. That was the only thing that cheered him. It meant that part of him still had the ability to act and think like a human.

LANDSDOWN

The afternoon in the village brought a sprained wrist, some minor lacerations from a careless cook and a visit to the home of a small child with a high fever. Nothing that Eden and Jace couldn't handle; and it was a relieved and grateful Grendar who willingly gave the majority of the coins over to their keeping in payment. The old man was now free to do what he liked—sleep late in the morning, spend the early afternoon cataloging his various herbs and powders and then retire to The Laughing Cow for a pint or two with some of his old cronies.

They talked fishing—aye, the redfin were running particularly big this year—and the local games; jousting and log-rolling were two of the more popular events. Midlar's lad had grown big and would be a contender, that was for sure. But there was always Tredmin, a brawny man with an unlikable attitude. And an unbeatable stance.

It would all remain to be seen.

“And this new lass, a sight fer sore eyes, she is,” one of Grendar's neighbors commented, drawing deep on his pipe.

Grendar's lined face crinkled as he smiled. “Sweet as sugar, that one. Name's Lady Eden. Quality, finely bred but has more than enough in the brain box, I'll tell ye! Knows her herbs and potions.”

“Married?”

“If not, will be shortly. Her suitor is that broad shouldered one. Says his name's Serafino,” Grendar explained. “Regular kind of fellow, though a bit cocky. Still, I like ‘im.”

Heads nodded around the table in the smoky air. “Southerners?” came the question.

Grendar shrugged. “Ne'er did say, other than they were travelin', yes. And not been in these parts afore, yes. But that description fits only a hunnert or so others.”

Again, heads nodded. LandsDown was a place traveled through. Not to, for most people.

“Thought there was another gal.” Grendar's neighbor again. A retired judge with too much time on his hands and a large front window.

“Friend of her ladyship's. Warrior guild.”

An understanding murmur went around the table. Quality often traveled with protection.

“And the dark man with her?” the judge continued.

“Didn't see him,” Grendar answered honestly. “Her ladyship mentioned she is traveling with friends, in the plural, you know. I don't inquire. Not m'place to.”

“Mean lookin’ bastard,” the judge noted. “This big dark one. Dressed in all black. Black gloves on his hands, too. Like a Night Rider.”

“They're not ... with the Wizard?” The last question was asked softly, fearfully, by old Derwin the shoemaker.

“Nah, have no indication of that!” Grendar reassured him. “At least, not her ladyship and Lord Serafino. Peaceable, they be. And kindly. Gentle-spoken, even if he is a bit of a snap-wit.”

“That Warrior gal, I seen her with Lord Tris. They be friends, do tell.” That was Egbard, an old stablehand with a strong love of gambling.

“Lord Tris? Aye. Aye.”

A uniform nodding of heads around the table. If Lord Tris were involved, then all was well.

“Seemed quite smitten with her, with the Warrior gal,” Egbard continued. “The pale haired gal. Looks at first like a lad, she does, til she turns. Then,” and a broad, wily grin split his thin face, “then she's all female. If ye be knowin’ what I do mean. And I know that ye do, gents!”

Low laughter rumbled around the table. They might be collectively and individually grizzled and gray-haired and well past their prime, but not a one gathered there still didn't appreciate a fat redfin, a well-bred horse or a pretty woman.

Another pitcher of ale was called for and the topic turned from women to horseflesh. After all, the games would be starting next week.

Then one by one, they wandered back home, or to their sons or daughters for a hot meal, until it was only Grendar and the judge left with the last tankard of ale.

“Think he's moved on? Lost interest?”

Grendar glanced left and right over his shoulders before answering the judge's question. The tavern was empty enough, but he kept his words pitched low. “The Wizard, you mean? Aye, it's been quiet. Don't know if it be good news, that, or bad.”

“Like he's waiting for something?” The judge tapped the bowl of his pipe against the palm of his hand.

“Or someone. Could be waitin’ for someone. That's what the squire's wife says.”

“Bluebell?” The judge snorted but then his expression sobered. “Never gave much credence before to those visions of hers. Bad omens.”

“They're only bad because we didn't heed them in time.”

“So what's Bluebell's latest prediction?”

“Not clear. A man with blue eyes is all she knows.” Grendar looked troubled. “That could be any one of a dozen of us here.”

“Aye.” The judge sucked noisily on his pipe. “Damn shame to be marked for death for the mere color of your eyes. You ain't told Derwin this, have you?”

“And set the village to panic?” Grendar shook his head. “Just heard meself this mornin'. No, the squire's talking to Lord Tris, as is proper. The Keep's handled this afore. They will, again.”

“As long as the Keep stands, we're safe. But the Gods help us the day the Keep falls.”

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

OUTSIDE THE GALAXUS

Eden felt Sass's surprise at about the same time as she saw her friend's eyes widen. She bit back a chuckle. In her blue muslin gown, perched as she was on the carriage's high front seat with Jace at the reins beside her, she probably did look as if she belonged in a museum. The contrast with the deep space shuttle behind them was a bit jarring.

“It was Grendar's idea,” Serafino explained to Sass, holding one hand out to Eden as she climbed down from the square wooden conveyance. “He felt it would be more appropriate to arrive at the Keep in a carriage than on horseback, especially as we still have no saddles.”

“And especially since you and I will be dressed in our finery,” Eden put in. She bent down to retrieve Reilly who had bounded up to meet her. She cuddled him against her. He purred loudly.

Serafino was reaching for Tank when Sass put out her hand to stop him. “I wouldn't do that right now if I were you. I've watched him eat two griztards in the past hour.”

Serafino laughed and squatted down next to the round-bellied fidget. “Getting a bit fragrant, are we?” he asked Tank as he scratched a proffered chin.

Eden gave Sass a brief rundown of the afternoon's medical adventures as they walked towards the shuttle. The villagers were already comfortable with her and Serafino and willingly accepted some of Eden's ideas on cleanliness and disease prevention.

“When I took that seminar three years ago on the medical needs of emerging low-tech societies, I never dreamed I'd actually be putting it to use! Then I just viewed it as another way the military had of eating up budget money.” She shook her head. “Speaking of the military, where's the admiral?”

“Last I saw, a few hours ago, still working on the auxiliary thrusters.”

Eden heard—and felt—the studied indifference in her friend's response, and knew the tension that had been building the past few days between Sass and Kel-Paten—hell, the tension that had been building the past few months, or even years!—had not yet reached any kind of resolution. She'd seen a change starting in the admiral since they'd come to Haven-One; an attempt to relax and let his human side come through. He was trying to open himself up to Sass, Eden knew, but in doing so he was also becoming vulnerable. Letting himself feel things for perhaps the first time in his life, he was feeling them almost too intensely.

When Eden was around Kel-Paten, she clearly sensed his ups and downs. And even though Sass wasn't an empath, Eden knew she felt it too. Especially as a lot of it was directed at the petite blonde.

Eden had noted the same instability in Kel-Paten when they were back on the Vax. She and Sass had even discussed it in Eden's office. But on the ship they'd had their respective cabins and offices to withdraw to. Here, with only the small shuttle, there was little privacy, emotionally and physically.

“Are you talking to him yet?” Eden asked quietly. Serafino was occupied several feet away with two pouncing furzels and a long tree branch. As much as he'd backed off irritating the admiral, per Eden's pleas and requests, she still didn't want him privy to her conversations about him with Sass.

Sass shrugged. “We talk about what is necessary.”

“That's not what I mean. Sass, you know how he feels—”

“Don't remind me!”

“I think I have to. I watched him last night at The Laughing Cow. Every time you mentioned Lord Tristan ... well, you've got to cut him some slack.”

Sass glanced at her friend, her eyes narrowing. “He's got to grow up.”

“He is, he will,” Eden protested. “But it's going to take time. I don't know, I've never had a chance to review his psych profile, or his emo-patterns, but we've discussed this before. What he's going through, about you, is completely new to him. He—”

“He has to grow up,” Sass repeated and kicked at a pile of moss with the toe of her boot. Obviously, she didn't want to be reminded about how Kel-Paten felt or how she could or was hurting him. She was, Eden knew, too aware of it already. And too confused.

Eden sensed that confusion. “I'm not criticizing you.”

Sass sighed. “I know. I'm sorry. It's just that ... I don't know. He's got me on edge. Every time he looks at me, I feel like I should apologize, but I don't know what for. For being human? For being female?”

“He thinks you hate him,” Eden told her. Serafino had informed her of the shame Kel-Paten felt.

“I wish I did, Doc. It would make things a lot easier.”

Eden looked questioningly at her as they neared the rampway of the shuttle. “Do I sense a softening of the heart?”

“Towards the Tin Soldier?” Sass's laugh was brittle. “No, just ... I don't know.” She shoved her hands in her pants pockets and looked skyward, as if pleading with the deities for answers. When she looked back at her friend there was a tired sadness in her eyes. “I've dealt with crewmembers who've had crushes on me before. Hell, so have you!” She grinned. “There was that lieutenant in security who kept leaving roses outside your door, remember?”

Eden raised one eyebrow. That she did.

“It comes with the job, you know? There are always the dirtsiders who find us attractive because we're female and we're spacers and on top of that we hold military rank. The fleet groupies and all those kind. You've had ‘em, I've had ‘em...” Sass waved one hand as she spoke. “But this is different. There's an ... innocence about him that scares the hell out of me. Which is strange to say, considering he's one of the most powerful individuals in the Triad Fleet. Hell, in Triad and Coalition space. He says ‘jump’ and the fleet says ‘how high and when',” Sass explained.

“But you don't,” Eden pointed out.

“True.” Sass grinned at her friend. “Me, when he says ‘Jump', I say ‘Up yours and the equinnard you rode in on.'”

“A classic Sass line if I ever heard one,” Serafino said, coming up behind Eden. He planted a light kiss on the top of her head and Eden knew nothing more was to be discussed with Sass on the subject of Kel-Paten.

“Finished tormenting the furzels?” Eden leaned back against him and tried to look up into his eyes.

“Can't say I was outclassed there, but I was definitely out-gassed!” he answered with a low chuckle.

“Tank,” Sass said knowingly.

“Griztards,” Serafino added.

“Maybe I should look for some digestive herbs,” Eden said with a nod to Sass. “Or else one particular fidget may find himself sleeping outside for the rest of his life.”

“I'm sure Grendar has something. We can ask him tomorrow. Are you coming inside?” Serafino started for the rampway.

Eden nodded. “In a minute.” Only after Serafino's tall form disappeared through the hatchway did she turn and pick up the thread of the conversation with Sass.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Hmm? I don't know. I guess it depends on what herbs—”

“No, not that.” Eden frowned. “About Kel-Paten.”

“Oh. That.” Sass made an aimless motion with her arms then let them fall back to her sides. “Just because I think I understand him more now than when we were on the Vax, doesn't mean, well, you know. If he wants to be friends, fine. I don't have a problem with that. Never did, actually. But anything more...” She shook her head. “Even if he weren't Fleet, and you know the risk there.” She shot her friend a meaningful look. Eden knew of Sass's concerns. Sass had never taken a lover in the U-Cee Fleet; someone who might know her well enough to see the holes in her personnel record. “I just don't want to be involved with anybody right now.”

“And Lord Tris?”

Sass gave a short laugh. “You don't get involved with men like Tris. You flirt with them. That's all.

“But with Kel-Paten,” Sass continued, lowering her voice after a quick glance at the hatchway, “Eden, you've read some of his letters. He's not a quick flirtation. He's, I don't know. He's a project. One thing I don't need right now is another project.”

“Then I think you'd better have a talk with him. Honestly,” Eden advised her. “Because everything I sense from him points to an increasing possessiveness towards you. I'm not saying you're leading him on, but he has to know what you feel, or don't feel. Or there're going to be big problems ahead.”

* * * *

Sass reflected on Eden's words as she rounded up the furzels, taking care not to hold Tank too tightly. She'd tried to distance herself from Kel-Paten as much as she could since they'd come to Haven-One, but it wasn't always possible. For one thing, out of necessity they had to work together. With Eden and Serafino pairing off, it was only natural that she'd end up with Kel-Paten in many situations. More than that, she had to grudgingly admit she'd grown to like him. She enjoyed his company and intelligence. There was a quiet strength, a sense of power she admired.

But he wanted more than her friendship. And more than her friendship she wasn't willing to give.

She'd thought that perhaps a light flirtation with Tris would send the message, but she saw now, after talking to Eden, that would only hurt him. In spite of the fact that he was an arrogant, pompous, royal pain in the ass at times, she really didn't want to hurt him.

She found the object of her thoughts watching her as she climbed the rampway to the shuttle, a furzel tucked under each arm. He had his usual unreadable expression, only the intense blue of his eyes hinting at his emotions.

“Keep away from me, Kel-Paten,” she warned and immediately regretted her comment. She saw the tension in his face as he thought she was still angry over his behavior in the tavern. It was such a ridiculous supposition on his part that she wanted to shake him, but he'd no doubt misunderstand that, too. So she just smiled and nodded to the smaller bundle of fur nearest him. “Tank just ate another griztard. His third.”

Understanding dawned on his face. Kel-Paten stepped back quickly, intending to let her pass in front of him, but she motioned with her chin for him to go first. “Downwind of this fidget is not a safe place to be.”

“I appreciate the warning,” he intoned and stepped inside through the airlock and into the main cabin.

Sass let Reilly jump from her arms, then gently placed Tank on the cushion of nearby seat.

“Dr. Fynn said she'd shower first,” Kel-Paten told her as Sass slowly back away from the black and white bundle.

Tank looked at her, tilted his head to one side and let out a small belch.

“Oh no,” Sass said. Kel-Paten grabbed her elbow and pulled her towards the front of the shuttle.

“Perhaps we should wait in the cockpit,” he suggested quickly.

“Excellent idea, admiral.” She made a dash for the front hatchway and tumbled into the pilot's seat, laughing, just as Kel-Paten palmed the hatchway shut behind them.

“I should warn Eden ... and ‘Fino,” she said between giggles, stretching her arm out across the instrument panel for the intercom button.

Kel-Paten leaned towards her and the life support panel. “We could kick on the air filtration system and—”

Their arms and shoulders collided. Sass, half-kneeling, half standing at the pilot's seat, lost her balance. Kel-Paten's arm suddenly wrapped around her waist, pulling her upright against him. They tottered for a moment then fell backwards into the copilot's seat.

Sass ended up in Kel-Paten's lap, her face on his chest, her thighs straddling his hips in a rather intimate posture. She was very aware of one hand intimately cradling her rear end, and another that had snaked up her back, holding her firmly against him.

She raised her head quickly, pushing against his shoulders.

Big mistake. Her movements made the chair tilt back. Kel-Paten instinctively tightened his hold on her, so she ended up grazing his face with her cheek. Their mouths were inches apart.

“Oh,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Sorry. You okay?”

* * * *

No, he was not okay. He was definitely not okay. His body was hot and pulsing and tingling, especially where she touched him with her body. His respiration had increased; his cardiac rate had risen and had he so desired he could have visually monitored all these things in the yellow print out in his lower field of vision.

But that's not what Kel-Paten was looking at. Or thinking about.

He was looking at Sass's mouth. And he was thinking about kissing her.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

GALAXUS AFT CABIN

Eden Fynn was thinking longingly about her comfortable and roomy shower back on the Regalia. Even the somewhat smaller one on the Vax would do right about now. The shuttle's shower—the shuttle's everything!—was a scaled down version of only what was absolutely necessary, and in the Triad designers’ minds (no doubt Kel-Paten's, she mused) a roomy san-fac (or bathroom as she knew dirtsider's called it) was not a top priority. Neither were wide bunk beds, a large galley or even comfortable seats in the main cabin. Strictly military issue, and Triad military at that.

The shower water cycled lukewarm again and as a breeze drifted over her bare skin, she shivered. The san-fac shared the same life support systems as the rest of the shuttle and consequently when things heated up, for example, in the cockpit or the main cabin, everything cooled down at once. And the constant comings and goings through the hatchway to the outside was driving the temperature systems crazy—the shuttle was designed as a sealed, deep space transport. Not a temporary dirtside motel.

When the water heated up again she leaned her head back into its comforting stream and closed her eyes. At least the pressure was good. She reached for the slim shampoo bottle but her hand found only empty air. Odd. She knew she'd placed it in the soap dish. But with water in her eyes...

A cool liquid oozed through her hair and before she could yelp in surprise a warm, wet mouth covered hers as large hands firmly massaged the shampoo through her hair.

Hands—and a touch—she was getting very familiar with. Her aborted yelp turned into a giggle as a hot, hard and wet male body pressed against hers in the small confines of the shower.

She peered up at Jace through damp lashes. “We could get stuck in here, and then what?” she murmured against his mouth.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “We'd just have to lather each other up and slide right out!”

“Mmmm. Sounds like a great idea.” She took him up on his suggestion, exploring and massaging the firm planes of his body.

“I think...” he said somewhat breathlessly after a few moments, “that we could ... reinvent the meaning ... of good ... clean sex.”

Whatever verbal response Eden may have had was lost as his mouth found hers again, and his hands found the length of her back, then her waist until his hands cupped her bottom and drew her hard against him.

She felt her knees weaken as moist and slippery fingers explored even more intimate areas.

“I think...” she whispered.

“Ummm?”

“Maybe ... we should....” She knew she was trying to say something, but her brain wasn't cooperating.

“Ummm.” He was in total agreement, whatever it was.

“Oh yes. Oh my!” Eden exclaimed softly. Then: “Oh!”

The water cycled to lukewarm.

Jace laughed quietly. “Never fear, dearest. I have an alternate plan.”

He picked her up and carefully backed out of the shower stall, laying her gently on a large pile of towels on the floor.

She nestled down into their warmth as he lay on top of her, his large body covering hers in just the perfect way, his mouth blazing a trail of kisses down her neck.

She responded by arching against him, her nails raking lightly down his wet back and he groaned her name out loud.

And then her concerns about showers and san-facs and none-too-soft bunks were forgotten as only the sensations of Jace—his muscular hardness, the soft bristly hair on his chest, the spicy smell of soap on his skin, and the hard and hot feel of him inside her —were all that Eden could think about.

That and the ripples of sheer pleasure cascading through her body as he possessed her, lovingly yet insistently, not hiding the intensity of his desire.

A thousand butterflies seemed to flutter through her veins as he climaxed inside her. Only his mouth against hers quieted her moans of pleasure. He held her tightly against him, cocooning them both within the soft, fluffy towels, until their breathing returned to normal.

“If we're late for dinner, it'll be your fault,” she teased.

He looked at her in mock horror. “My fault? But my dear, you wantonly flaunted your beautiful body at me. What was I to do?”

“Exactly what you did, Captain Serafino,” she replied. “Exactly what you did.”

GALAXUS COCKPIT

The harsh lighting in the shuttle's cockpit only highlighted the unmistakable glitter of desire Tasha Sebastian saw in Kel-Paten's gaze. She knew, without a doubt, that if she didn't do something and do it quick, the Tin Soldier was going to kiss her.

Surprisingly, that wasn't an altogether uninteresting option; perhaps Eden's friendly advice was getting to her.

But it was an unworkable one, at least as far as Sass was concerned. First, he was her Commanding Officer. Her boss. Secondly, even though they were the Gods-only-knew how far from Fleet HQ, he was Fleet and knew her personnel file, her falsified personnel file, far more intimately than she wanted him to. Though for a moment a small hope whispered it might not matter. Of all the people she knew, he might truly understand why she'd done what she had. She shoved it away. Because thirdly, he wasn't, as she'd explained to Eden, someone you could lightly flirt with. Branden Kel-Paten was a project.

Right now she was not in the market for a project at all.

She grasped the arms of the chair and pushed herself back just as he leaned towards her, which helped as it rebalanced the pilot's chair. She half-slid, half-tilted out of his lap and hauled herself into the captain's chair.

“Sorry,” she said again. “I lost my balance.” She turned from him and busied herself with the life support monitors to her left. “Water pressure's back up. Eden must be out of the shower. I'll head there now.”

She swiveled her chair around and stood with a wave in the direction of the cabin. “I'm sure Tank's contribution has, umm, faded by now. Have to risk it anyway or we'll never make it to dinner on time.”

She glanced quickly at Kel-Paten. He sat upright, his dark gloved hands clasped on his thighs. He looked briefly at her and nodded. “Yes. Of course.” Then he immediately resumed staring out the forward viewport at the greenness of the forest beyond.

She palmed the cockpit door open but not before she took a deep breath of air into her lungs.

With Tank, you never knew for sure...

* * * *

Only after the door had cycled shut behind her did Kel-Paten let his head drop forward and rest against his waiting hands.

He was losing his mind. Day in, day out in such close proximity to her, he had no choice but to lose his mind. Little by little his military training, his rigid self control, was chipped away by her every smile, every laugh, every wrinkle of her nose.

And she was oblivious to it all.

Which only made it worse. If he could just talk to her, tell her how he felt, then he knew he could find a solution. Logic decreed that if he told her and she was horrified, or worse, found his admission of love ridiculous, then he'd accept that, know he could never have her, and go on.

Which was exactly why Kel-Paten couldn't tell her. Because it would force a resolution and it would put an end to his dream —however small it might be. As long as he didn't tell her, they both existed in the realm of ‘possibility'. It was possible she could care for him. It was possible she would let him love her. It was possible she would respond....

But take away those possibilities and he had only harsh reality. And no Sass. And no dreams.

He lived in a limbo of his own making, and he knew it. He lived for a tomorrow that might never come. But at least he could dream about that tomorrow.

There was always that hope...

Then there was tonight. And Lord Tristan.

He didn't know what he'd do if this feudal barbarian made serious noises about Sass. A few months back, he'd considered putting a pompous ambassador through one of the Vax's bulkheads just for flirting with her. Now he had no rank to consider and no military codes to stop him if Tristan tried to take his dream away from him.

Logic and his heart decreed something else: he wouldn't lose her to another man, without a fight.

GALAXUS AFT CABIN

Eden and Serafino strolled off to bring the carriage to the shuttle when Kel-Paten went to find Sass. She was not, Eden had intimated, overly happy with her attire. When Kel-Paten, more than a little innocent regarding the eccentricities of women, had given Eden a quizzical glance, the CMO's explanation of it ‘not being quite Sass's style’ made even less sense to him. He didn't know what ‘style’ had to do with it. He assumed, like his outfit of shirt, pants and vest, it would be appropriate to the date and time and customs of the locale. What more could possibly come into consideration?

He stepped to the rear of the shuttle, where the moveable interior partitions had been rearranged to create four rooms with some modicum of privacy.

“Sebastian?” He heard a rustling sound from the corner that housed Sass's cubicle. “The Doctor and Serafino are ready.”

Something between a sigh and a curse floated through the air. Then: “Okay. Okay. I just wish I had a shawl or something.”

At the sound of her footsteps, Kel-Paten turned from the life-support panel he'd been studying on the far wall of the main cabin—and stared.

This was not the Sass he knew. This was not the Captain Tasha Sebastian, whose boots had more than once found their way insolently onto his desktop; whose arms were more often than not clad in wrinkled, rolled up uniform sleeves ... who thought nothing of crawling through dark and musty maintenance accessways ... or crawling through a wide variety of disreputable spaceport pubs.

This was ... he wasn't quite sure who this was poured into this liquid silver dress, with hair like moonlight fluffed out from a face slightly tinged with pink on her cheeks; a darker pink staining lips wet and glossy with color.

She raised her face to meet his gaze. Her eyes were a luminous green; the color he recognized but not the darkness or length of the lashes. Or the way they seemed to fill her face, lending an air of innocence, of fragility to her.

No, this was not the Sass he knew. This was someone different, someone totally feminine, totally elegant, demure....

“If I don't make a total asshole of myself in this bloody damn outfit tonight, it'll be a bloody damn miracle,” she said as she strode past him.

No. Correction. This was definitely the Sass he knew.

LANDSDOWN SOUTH ROAD

Sass tugged at the fur-edged neckline of her dress as the carriage jostled its way to the Keep and tried to ignore the fact that the admiral stared at her.

It wasn't Eden's fault—she'd done her best to alter the silver dress and in truth, it no longer hung like a wilted sack from her shoulders. But in giving the dress some form, Eden had also given it much less of a neckline. Something that hadn't been apparent in the alteration procedures but now that Sass was living, moving and breathing—or trying not to breathe—in the dress, it was an obvious problem.

Reassurances from Eden didn't help. Nor did the fact that Eden's own gown was equally as low cut. For, as Sass was quick to point out and Serafino was as quick to snicker about, Eden had more with which to hold it up.

“If you can find an equinnard blanket in that carriage somewhere, I'll be grateful,” Sass had called out to the pair as they'd gone to fetch the carriage. But they hadn't returned with one and the next noises she'd heard were Kel-Paten's.

So she'd squared her shoulders, grabbed a handful of skirt which constantly threatened to trip her, and marched into the main cabin. The look of surprise on his face only underscored in her mind how foolish she looked.

Now, seated next to her, he'd barely said a word. Any other time, whether riding through the forest together or cruising through the star-lanes together, Kel-Paten was always one to review the current plan of action for whatever it was they headed towards. She'd fully expected, sensing his dislike of Lord Tris, that he'd lay down some serious rules and regulations for the dinner tonight.

But she'd rated nothing more than a calmly offered, “You look very nice tonight, Sebastian,” as he'd ushered her up into the carriage.

She'd fought the urge to clock him with a quick right cross. She did not look nice tonight and she knew it. She looked and felt silly. Like a child dressing up in mother's clothes. And the hair didn't help. She'd kept it short because in her position as a Fleet officer, it was easy and convenient. Now, it looked too easy. And too casual, in spite of all the fluffing Eden had done.

She not only looked like a child dressing up in mother's clothes, she looked like a boy child dressing up in mother's clothes!

LANDSDOWN NORTH ROAD

In another carriage, coming from a different direction, were Squire Hagar Ferbtil and his wife, Bluebell. Far from being discomforted by her new dress, Bluebell was quietly pleased. The bright orange and purple colors, she felt, complimented her curly red hair. She couldn't understand why no one in the dressmaker's shoppe had purchased it after so many months! And considering all the extra material it contained—why the two rows of huge purple and green flounces along the bottom hem and again around the neckline were worth the price of the dress alone.

She had Driznella, her chambermaid, wind some green and gold ribbons through her frequently unruly hair. Then she'd pranced down the front steps of their small manor on her way to the waiting carriage, nodding happily at the wide grins of the stableboy and gardener who once again were astounded at the cacophony of colors bedecking their mistress.

Her husband patted her thin hand affectionately.

“You certainly look one-of-a-kind tonight, my dear,” he drawled. “A true original.”

“Thank you, Hagar. I find I'm feeling much better. Very much better.”

“A new dress will do that.”

She brushed at her sleeve. “Yes, but it's actually because of the visions.”

“Not more?” He leaned towards her, frowning.

“None at all, the past two nights.” Bluebell took a deep breath and smiled. “Perhaps you were right. Perhaps they were just indigestion.”

“Don't want me to mention them to Lord Tristan, then?”

Bluebell cautiously sought that cold, evil chill that had hovered on the edges of her dreams for weeks now, and found nothing. Blessedly, nothing. “Let's just enjoy our evening.”

The squire nodded. “Couldn't agree with you more.”

THE KEEP

Lord Tristan greeted them both warmly, long used to Bluebell's outlandish apparel.

“Sorry to be a tad early.” Squire Ferbtil clasped Tristan's outstretched hand.

“No problem, old friend,” Tris replied, leading them, as he always did when they were early, to the drawing room where an impressive selection of the best his cellars had to offer was;laid out. To arrive on time, both Hagar Ferbtil and Lord Tristan knew, would seriously cut into the Squire's drinking time.

“Oh, just a wee bit for me, as usual,” Bluebell said sweetly. Tris poured her the usual full goblet of sherry and stood by with the bottle as she gulped it down in one swallow.

“I must have been thirsty,” she chirped and batted her sparse eyelashes at him as he refilled it, chuckling.

It was a comfortable scenario and one repeated weekly.

But this week, things were different. It wasn't that Tris wasn't glad to see old friends; he was. But he found himself unusually nervous about meeting a new one. This Lady Captain Tasha; this small but at the same time overwhelming package of pale moonlight energy. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since he'd met her—was it only yesterday?

Every once in a while, in one of those thoughts, he'd also see the shadow of a tall, dark man. It was not a pleasant intrusion. He didn't understand the presence of this man she call ‘Kilpatten'. It was not a name he'd heard before and to be honest, not one he'd care to hear again. There was something quietly deadly about the man.

And something strange, though exactly what it was Tris didn't know. But tonight he'd have a chance to study him, if he so desired.

He just had a feeling though that he'd prefer to study Lady Captain Tasha more.

The sound of hoof beats on the graveled drive caught his attention through the open windows of the drawing room. Tris bowed politely to Bluebell. “If you will excuse me, my dear.” He nodded to her husband also. “Squire Ferbtil. I believe I hear our other guests arriving.”

* * * *

Jace brought the carriage to a stop before the wide planked doors of the Keep and looked up.

“Damn nice piece of architecture,” he commented, taking in the heavy stonework, impressive turrets and long slate roof. “Wonder where they keep the dragons?”

“There are no flying reptiles indigenous to this world,” Eden replied with a smile, then paused and turned to Sass who leaned forward in the seat behind her. “Actually, we haven't seen any reptilian avians since that time we got shit-faced in Port Bangkok and ended up—”

“No, we haven't, that's for sure.” Sass stood and gave giving her friend more than a warning glance.

“Sounds interesting,” Jace intoned, hopping down from the front seat of the carriage and extending his hand to Eden. “Tell me about it sometime.”

“Just don't believe everything you hear, ‘Fino,” Sass warned.

The former mercenary looked up at her, grinning devilishly. “Actually, your and Eden's adventures have become rather legendary,” he teased.

“Oh, great,” Sass replied but she was smiling.

Kel-Paten, who'd been standing quietly beside her, stepped down from the carriage before Sass could and held out his hand.

Sass took it and, Jace noticed, didn't pull away when moments later when Kel-Paten's other hand rested against her waist. He could feel hope blossom through Kel-Paten but then, so could Eden. She turned her face coquettishly up to his, but her mental admonition was stern. Don't start.

He shelved the disparaging comment he'd intended to send Kel-Paten's way with a short sigh. Yes, ma'am.

Then something shot through his mind, fierce, intense. Only when Eden's hand tightened on his arm did he realize she'd sensed it as well. Jace?

Whatever it was dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving no trace, no trail. Only a mild, rapidly fading sense of unease.

Not sure, he told her. There may be dragons hiding here after all.

* * * *

Lord Tristan Dalbaran stepped through the great doors of the Keep in time to see the man called Kilpatten rest his hand;against Lady Captain Tasha's waist. And he saw, as well, the decidedly possessive look on the man's face.

As much as Tristan preferred to have Sass be the object of his study, he'd first have to find out just who this pale-eyed man was. And what threat, or what leverage—for Lady Captain Sass didn't look overly pleased—he held over the small blonde.

But for now, he'd play the host as he'd been born and reared to do.

“Welcome, dear friends.” Tristan sketched a slight bow and motioned the group towards the door. “Please, come in. You're most welcome at my humble home tonight.”

* * * *

Both Jace and Eden had already been aware of his presence before he spoke. And aware of his immediate dislike and distrust of the admiral. But he wasn't the negative energy they'd sensed.

Jace lightly stroked the nape of Eden's neck as she moved in front of him. It's going to be an interesting evening, my love, he told her. Our dragon notwithstanding.

It should be fine, Eden told him soothingly. I've already warned Sass to behave.

It's not Sass I'm worried about.

Tristan's too well bred and Kel-Paten's too well trained, she countered.

Don't count on it, love. Don't count on it.

THE KEEP DRAWING ROOM

Helluva dress if you've got a hangover.

Eden caught Jace's comment as he bent over Bluebell's hand during their perfunctory introductions to the Squire and his colorful wife. Fortunately, the social situation was such that her wide smile was easily interpreted as her pleasure at meeting the couple. No one but Jace and herself knew it was really in response to Bluebell's clownish costume.

But it was also a kindly smile; she could sense no meanness in the thin, oddly attired woman. And hell, she and the captain had known more eccentric types. Especially at that one pub on Kesh Valiir...

Another story I'd love to hear! Jace reminded her as he picked up on her train of thought.

But then Squire Ferbtil was bending over her hand as Lord Tris performed the introductions and she could only send Jace a fleeting mental roll of her eyes.

“Worth gettin’ sick if Healers were all as lovely as you, my dear,” the Squire offered her. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He turned to Sass, eyeing her thoroughly before grasping her hand next.

“Ahh, Warrior's Guild, Lord Tris tells us, eh? You bust ‘em up and your Lady Healer puts them back together. Quite a business you have there!” He guffawed loudly, looking from Sass to Eden. Then his gaze traveled upwards to Kel-Paten standing behind Sass and he cleared his throat nervously.

Tristan stepped forward and continued with the introductions. “And may I present Lady Tasha's ... associate, Master Kilpat—”

Bluebell's scream cut off his words.

The Squire caught his wife as she staggered back. “My dear! What is it?”

Jace dropped his shields, went on a wide telepathic scan. Images and sensations from the garishly dressed woman's mind flooded his, but he sensed nothing further than that. Nothing evil, nothing other than what Bluebell was remembering: a tall, dark-haired man with pale blue eyes, a miasma of death and destruction wrapped around him like a thick cloak.

The man looked like the Tin Soldier, yet something was different. Jace tried to hang onto the images, but Bluebell's intense emotions lay over them like a cloudy haze.

Jace? Eden's concern touched his thoughts as her fingers brushed his hand. How could she know the admiral?

She's remembering a dream, or what feels like many dreams.

Lord Tristan held a glass of sherry to Bluebell's lips. Kel-Paten had backed up several steps. Sass's frowning gaze focused on Lord Tristan, the Squire and Bluebell.

Bluebell's hand shot out, knocking the glass away. “You!” She pointed at Kel-Paten. “You've come to kill us all!”

A servant in a blue velvet jacket stepped into the drawing room, a small hand bell on a tray.

“Dinner is served,” he said, punctuating his words with the bell's tinkle.

Bluebell collapsed in a heap on the floor.

---

CHAPTER THIRTY

THE KEEP LIBRARY

Sass managed not to trip on her long skirt as she hurried across the stone floor of the wide hallway. The library was the second door on the left, Tristan had told her. Kel-Paten stood in front of a large fireplace, gloved hands clasped behind his back. He turned slightly when she came in, his face shadowed. His eyes were their usual pale blue. No glow. No luminescence.

“Did you power up, not know it?” That had been her first thought when the Squire's wife had recoiled in abject fear at the sight of Kel-Paten. But Tristan had escorted the admiral—banished him, she realized belatedly—to the library before Sass had had a chance to verify her theory.

Tristan had also seemed none to happy to direct her to the library. But Bluebell's mournful pleas as she lay on the couch attended by Serafino and Eden, and the way the Squire kept trying to tug Tristan off into a corner, had permitted Sass to escape.

The library door clicked softly as she closed it.

Kel-Paten's harsh sigh was audible even over the crackle of flames in the fireplace. “I have no idea why that woman thinks I meant to kill her.”

“Eden said Serafino couldn't pick up a whole lot from her thoughts yet, but evidently she's been dreaming about you.”

“Me?” Kel-Paten started visibly. “But how, why? I've never met her before.”

“That's why I thought maybe you'd powered up—”

“No.”

“You remind her of someone in her dreams, then. Visions, actually. I heard the Squire mention something about her visions.” Sass shrugged. She hoped that as Bluebell calmed down, Serafino and Eden would be able to make some sense of this. Having the admiral labeled as a killer wasn't going to help them gain the cooperation of the villagers in LandsDown.

Kel-Paten turned away, his fists clenched at his side. “I should leave.”

There was an odd tone in his voice. It took her a moment to place it.

Hurt. He was hurting, genuinely upset that he'd frightened the woman. An odd reaction from a ‘cybe who was a professional soldier, whose purpose often had been to attack and defeat.

And protect and defend. She thought of how he'd responded immediately when the Vax had been threatened by the vortex. How he'd intercepted T'Krain's hand when the T'Sarii had suddenly grabbed for her.

And how he'd been willing to sacrifice his life when the shuttle's engine had faltered.

Branden Kel-Paten was a lot of things, but he wasn't a heartless killer. If anything, she was only too aware he wasn't heartless at all.

Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. “Scared of a woman with a bad wardrobe, flyboy?” She pursed her lips into a small grin when he looked at her.

“More likely, she's afraid of me,” he said but some of the tension she'd sensed in him was gone.

She stepped over to him, let her gaze travel up his chest to his face. “You scowl too much.” As she said that she remembered Eden had suggested a fix for that problem.

But Kel-Paten wasn't a light flirtation. He was a project. She had enough projects at the moment, on this strange world in an uncharted galaxy. Though this was one project, she grudgingly admitted, that might be a bit fun to take on—

Nah. A grumble of thunder echoed again. She rubbed her hands over arms in response. Not that she was cold, but the thunder reminded her of the storms on Lethant. Reminded her of things she didn't want to think about.

“You all right?” Kel-Paten asked.

Bloody damn! Her smile had faded. He must have caught that, caught her movements.

“You're the one scowling now,” he continued. Lightning flashed through the tall library windows.

“I hate storms.” Her words came out in a rush. She forced herself to laugh. “At least, I hate them dirtside.”

“You don't strike me as someone who'd be afraid of anything, Sebastian.”

“Why don't we go see what Eden and Serafino have found out?”

That had been why she'd come to the library looking for him. Bluebell's hysterics had to be just that—hysterics. The woman, this whole damned planet, had no idea what a bio-'cybe was. Even if Kel-Paten had powered up, and he hadn't. The glow in his eyes could be nothing more than a reflection from the fire in the fireplace. Or the bright flash on lightning, like just now.

She jumped in spite of herself.

Kel-Paten's hand on her arm was oddly reassuring. “I'll apologize to Lady Ferbtil for frightening her. And I promise not to scowl.”

Tristan met them at the closed doors to the drawing room, delaying their entry. “You've heard, I gather, that this region has of late been plagued by a malevolent Wizard.”

Sass noted an expression of distaste cross Tristan's features as he spoke, but whether it was from the mention of the Wizard, or because Kel-Paten's hand cupped her arm, she didn't know.

“We've heard,” Kel-Paten said as the door opened behind Tristan.

Serafino stepped through.

Tristan glanced at Serafino then back to Kel-Paten. “Lady Ferbtil maintains you're that Wizard.”

“That's nonsense! We—” Aren't even from your planet. Sass caught herself before the words were uttered. She looked pleadingly to Serafino to intervene. But the Nasyry was damningly silent. He hated Kel-Paten and was probably enjoying Tristan's accusation.

Tristan continued. “She doesn't say you, Lady Sass, are in any way involved. Nor your friends. She maintains you're all unaware of Master Kilpatten's true identity.” Tristan straightened his shoulders, glared up at Kel-Paten. “Ensorcelled. Her visions tell her so.”

“Her visions are wrong,” Kel-Paten said. “She's mistaken me for someone—”

“She says if we were to cut your arm, there would be no blood.”

Oh, bloody damn! No, bloodless damn. Unless all the intelligence the U-Cees had on the admiral was in error, Bluebell was right. At least about that one thing: Kel-Paten's limbs were cybernetic. There wouldn't be any blood.

“May I?” Serafino asked smoothly. He held a small, thin knife in his hand.

Sass almost clocked him, then and there. What did he think he was doing? Their survival and their eventual return home, however far away that might be, depended on their combined talents. They needed Kel-Paten for his knowledge of the shuttle, for his ability to spike in. For his unerring, rapid analysis of data. For his unwavering dedication.

She—they needed him, damn it!

“Shadow.” His nickname hissed between her teeth and only the slight shake of his head, and the fact that Kel-Paten didn't seem as upset as she was, stopped her from making her threats known.

Thunder crashed, rumbled. Jagged flashes of light pulsed through the hallway's tall arched windows, danced across the stone floor.

You'd better know what you're doing, Shadow, she told him silently, having no idea if he could hear her or not.

Kel-Paten extended his right arm, pushed up his sleeve. Serafino touched the point of his knife against the admiral's pale skin—synthederm, Sass knew. He drew the knife down in a line.

A thin red trail beaded up in the knife's path.

“Well?” Kel-Paten's voice was harsh as he pulled his sleeve back down.

“Well?” Serafino wiped the knife on his pant leg.

The flare of Lord Tristan's aristocratic nostrils was the only indication of his emotions. “I'll inform Lady Ferbtil she's in error. My apologies, Master Kilpatten.”

Sass waited until the door closed behind Tristan before pinning first Kel-Paten with her gaze, then Serafino. “Well? Gentlemen?”

“A Nasyry can plant images in your mind,” Kel-Paten said, his voice low. “Among other things.”

Gods’ sacred asses, she'd forgotten about that. That he'd levitated a coffee cup for her.

“Thank you,” she told him.

Serafino shook his head. “Thank Eden. I didn't do it for him.” He shot Kel-Paten a narrowed eyed glance. “Bluebell's not lying. You are what she's seen in her visions.”

Kel-Paten tensed. “What are you talking about?”

Serafino reached back, laying his hand against the door as if to insure it wouldn't open unexpectedly. “There is something here, on this world. Something very dark, very dangerous. It's killed already, we've heard the stories. And lately, it's come to that woman in visions. It has your voice, your face, your eyes, right down to the power-glow. It's shown her your body. Right down to those access ports in your wrist.”

Sass couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Impossible! They don't have that kind of technology here.”

“They don't have to,” Serafino answered. “These visions started a little more than a week ago. Just at the time we arrived. What have you been doing on your nightly watches, Kel-Paten? Guarding the shuttle? Or terrorizing the locals?”

Kel-Paten's fist moved in a blur. But Serafino's hand was surprisingly as quick. He held Kel-Paten's wrist firmly, his arm shaking with the strain—but he held it.

It took Sass a few seconds to realize what she'd just witnessed. Jace Serafino had stopped the unstoppable Branden Kel-Paten.