Cleon Moon (10 page)

“I’ll try,” he murmured, as he gazed back at her, his eyes warm but also sad. That always seemed to come out when he wasn’t being stern and professional. The professional soldier. That was the mask he hid behind, just as she hid behind flippancy and sarcasm. Maybe they both knew it was safer to wear masks than to be vulnerable. Except, with each other, perhaps they could lower them sometimes.

Alisa had not intended to, but she ended up kissing him. Even if he couldn’t return it with enthusiasm, she wanted to show him that she cared, that she wished she could make the universe better for him. But it didn’t take long for her to start thinking more of herself than of him, especially since he went along with it, returning the kiss, rubbing her waist through her pajama top. She wondered how far he would go for her sake. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had good experiences where penises hadn’t been involved. Some of Mica’s teasing comments about his enhanced tongue came to mind. But she quashed them, lowering her hands and dropping her chin to break the kiss, gazing down at the contours of his chest instead of meeting his eyes. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for favors that did nothing for him, favors that she couldn’t return. Besides, it would probably be awkward and weird for both of them. He’d be the sober one at a party full of drunks, secretly bored and wondering if everyone knew how idiotic they were acting.

“Alisa?” he said softly. “Do you want—”

“To give you a massage?” she blurted, looking up, afraid he would make the very offer she had been thinking of, the one she would be a heel to accept. If he got the words out, she might not be strong enough to say no. “Absolutely.”

His brow wrinkled, and her fingers twitched with the desire to smooth it again. She didn’t this time. Touching his face made her want to kiss him and that made her want what she couldn’t have.

She patted the bed again, scooting to the very edge so there was room for him. He gave her that look he sometimes did, the one where she felt like a puzzle he was trying to figure out.

“Lie down,” she said. “Tonight, we’ll relax and enjoy each other’s company, all right?”

He hesitated, then lay on his stomach. She thought about asking him to take his T-shirt off, but since this couldn’t lead to anything more than the platonic, maybe this was preferable. As it was, she would end up having erotic dreams and nobody to share them with when she woke up.

He cradled his head in one arm and let the other dangle off his bed. She shifted up to her knees so she could massage his shoulders. She probably should get the rocks—the spa stones—so she could dig into those steel muscles and find the knots, but maybe tonight, she would keep it light and gentle. Let him rest. He seemed to need it. Indeed, he exhaled slowly and deeply, closing his eyes. As she continued to work, the tension drained from his muscles, and she felt pleased, glad she could at least give him this.

After a time, he grew so relaxed that she realized he had fallen asleep, his breathing slow and even. She caught herself yawning and eyed the sliver of space between his broad form and the edge of the bed. She could fit there if she lay on her side, an arm resting across his back, anchoring herself to him. It would be easier than walking back to her cabin, and it would be far less lonely.

The expression on his face was restful and content, not twisted with uneasy dreams. Maybe they didn’t come until he was deeper in his sleep cycle. Or maybe having her next to him put him at ease. Was it arrogance to think that? That her presence could make him sleep well?

She gave him a few more gentle strokes, then lay down beside him, using his arm for a pillow. If he woke up and told her to go, she would, but it would be so nice to spend the night. To wake in the morning with someone to cuddle with before heading out on what would be a dangerous trip.

She smiled, imagining that cuddling, and closed her eyes.

Chapter 7

Alisa gasped in pain and fear as she tumbled through the dark air, spinning end over end. A dream. No, she realized in confusion. She was awake. She was—

She struck something hard—a wall. Her wrist crunched, something snapping as it was crushed between her and the wall. She cried out as agony sprang from the injured spot. Then she landed on the floor, crumpling at the base of the wall. She gasped again, cradling her wrist as stabs of pain coursed through her.

“Lights,” someone said—Leonidas. Then, as they came up, he leaped from the bed and dropped to her side. “Alisa!”

“Yeah,” she croaked, wincing and realizing what must have happened.

He realized too. She could tell by the horror dawning in his eyes.

“Three suns, I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I hit you, didn’t I?” He cringed.

“No,” she said, even though she knew he must have sent her flying in his sleep. She didn’t want him to blame himself. She was the idiot who had been too lazy to walk back to her cabin. “I just fell out of bed.”

A statement that might have been plausible if she hadn’t been on the other side of the cabin. He looked at the distance. He didn’t have to be an engineer to do the math, but she recalled that he had studied it.

He looked down, saw her cradling her wrist and rose to his feet. “I’ll get the doctor.”

“No,” she blurted, not wanting to explain this to Alejandro or anyone else. He would judge Leonidas—judge
both
of them. But she inadvertently reached for him with the injured wrist, and the movement sent a fresh burst of pain through her, making her gasp again. “Damn it.”

The pain wasn’t lessening. She must have broken it.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, his face contorted with anguish as he raced out.

Alisa let her head thunk back against the wall, blinking and struggling to keep tears from tumbling down her cheeks. She could deal with the pain in her wrist. It was Leonidas’s pain that distressed her. Why hadn’t she gone back to her cabin? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know about his nightmares—and the dents in the walls.

“Because you thought you were some kind of cure—that’s why,” she grumbled to herself. Had she truly believed that because she had been cuddling with him, he wouldn’t have nightmares? Such arrogance.

Though it hurt, she levered herself to her feet with one hand and walked over to the bed. She intended to say she had fallen out and landed on her wrist. She didn’t want anyone thinking Leonidas had hit her. It hadn’t been his fault.

Leonidas returned with Alejandro in tow. He had tugged on his gray monastic robe and carried his medical kit, but he was barefoot, his gray and brown hair sticking up in tufts.

“Thanks for the house call, Doc,” Alisa said. “Sorry to wake you in the middle of the night.”

He grunted, set down his kit, and examined her wrist, which was already swelling impressively. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything. Maybe he would simply treat her and keep his judgments to himself.

“Broken,” he said, and withdrew his auto injector and a painkiller to load into it.

Leonidas closed his eyes at this pronouncement, his face bleaker than death.

After the shot, Alejandro tugged out a medical netdisc and programmed a batch of nanobots for repairs. He gave her a second shot, this one burning as the microscopic critters charged into her bloodstream. She braced herself for the itching that would follow. At least the painkiller was having a pleasantly numbing effect.

Alejandro dug into his kit again, retrieving an auto-molding bandage. He wrapped it around her wrist and sealed it, the cool material turning into a semi-rigid brace.

“You’ll need to wear that for a couple of days while the nanobots work,” he said, straightening.

“At least it’s my left hand.” Alisa had no intention of delaying her journey out to find that Starseer outpost. She glanced at the clock built into the wall. It was only an hour until dawn, so she might as well stay up and get ready.

Alejandro grunted again and grabbed his kit.

Alisa thought he might leave without any comments, but on his way past Leonidas, he shook his head and muttered, “Maybe this is why the empire neuters its cyborgs.”

Leonidas clenched his jaw, anger hardening his eyes, and for a moment, she worried he might strike Alejandro. But he didn’t move, not even a twitch, as Alejandro brushed past him and out of the cabin. He merely glared at the wall, the anger solely for himself.

“Leonidas,” Alisa said, pushing herself to her feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Who’s ready to go looking for civilized people?” a cheerful voice called from the corridor. Abelardus. “And by that I mean Starseers, of course. Beck?” Abelardus banged on a hatch. “You making grub for our trip? Who’s coming?”

Down in the cargo hold, the chickens squawked, protesting the banging.

Alisa sighed. Yes, she might as well get ready. She ought to be the one out there rounding everyone up. This was her mission, and anyone she could talk into coming along would be doing so to help her.

“We’ll talk later,” she said and patted Leonidas on the stomach as she headed for the hatchway. He was still standing, stiff as a board—a very angry board.

“Alisa,” he said quietly.

She paused, looking back.

“There is nothing for
you
to be sorry about. That was my fault. And unforgivable.”

“No, it wasn’t. It’s my fault that my massage was so amazing that it made you fall asleep.” She smiled at him, because smiles were better than tears or anger. Besides, something worse than a broken wrist could have happened. She’d gotten off easy.

“Alisa,” he said, drawing out the syllables, his tone anguished.

“I knew I should have left, and I didn’t,” she said, more serious. He wouldn’t appreciate flippancy now. “My fault. It won’t happen again.”

The words did nothing to alleviate the anguish on his face, and she realized what she was saying, that she would never fall asleep next to him again. Was that what she wanted to say? No, there had to be a solution. They would find something. Maybe that admiral that he wanted to kidnap would know about nightmares as well as cyborg penises. They would figure something out. She had to believe that.

She started to walk out, but a black-robed chest got in her way as Abelardus leaned into the cabin. “Cyborg, are you—”

He stopped, frowning down at Alisa in surprise. He must not have expected to find her in here. At least she knew he had been sleeping or getting ready and hadn’t been spying on her last night with his Starseer skills. Of course, he would probably poke into her head quickly now and find out what had happened. She didn’t want comments from him, any more than she did from Alejandro.

Hoping to forestall that, she pushed past him, saying, “I’ll dress and be ready shortly.”

Abelardus did not stop her, but his gaze did lock onto the brace around her wrist. “What—” He must have read the rest of what happened in her mind, or perhaps in Leonidas’s, because he whirled into the cabin. “Did you
hit
her?”

“No, he didn’t,” Alisa said, and grabbed the back of his robe.

Not surprisingly, Abelardus tried to go inside. Alisa imagined Leonidas letting Abelardus hit him—or whatever Abelardus had in mind—because he thought he deserved it. That was
not
going to happen.

“Get out,” she said, “or I’ll pull this robe down around your ankles, and we’ll find out if you have hairier legs than Alejandro or not.”

It wasn’t her words—or one-handed tugging—that made Abelardus step back. Leonidas shoved him out of the cabin before he could do whatever Starseer mental assault he had in mind. The hatch slammed shut in his face.

Good.

Abelardus spun toward her, still frowning. He looked at her wrist and the frown turned ferocious. “You better stay away from him. He’s too damned unstable to be alone with. I warned you. He’s dangerous.”

Alisa propped her good fist on her hip, annoyed because she knew Leonidas would hear every word, and because Abelardus seemed more affronted on her behalf than concerned that she had been hurt. Not that she wanted either feeling from him. Why couldn’t everyone keep their comments to themselves?

“The wrist does hurt,” she said, “but it’s already feeling better. Thanks for asking.”

His brow wrinkled with puzzlement. Why did she puzzle all of the men on this ship?

“Uhm, Captain?” Beck asked, poking his head out of his cabin. He glanced at her wrist brace.

“
What?
” she asked, the word coming out more exasperated than she intended.

“Just wanted to know if you need me to come along with you today, or if you want me to get that cargo? I talked with the chef’s representative yesterday, and he’s going to let me into the warehouse today to see if we can fit everything in his refrigerators into our hold. There’s one other fellow bidding for the mushrooms, but I think if I present myself well, and play up my interest in the culinary arts, we can get the job.”

Alisa lowered her arms, chagrined with herself for snapping at him. “Yes, you should go to the warehouse. I’ll be fine out there with Abelardus and Leonidas.” And wouldn’t it be fun going on a trek with them, right now? “You didn’t run into any trouble, did you? You seemed to be gone a while.”

“No… Nothing serious.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Something unserious?”

“Thought someone was following me for a while, but it might have been my imagination. Either way, I took a creative route and shook him before arriving at the meeting. Shouldn’t be any trouble. This isn’t the White Dragon city, after all, right?”

“Right,” she murmured, though she wasn’t convinced that these mafia people didn’t have connections and share intelligence with each other. That Solstice woman probably had her fingers in all kinds of sauce pots. “Be careful when you go out again, please. We’d hate to lose you.”

“I’d hate to be lost.” He winked.

“Also, thank you for taking the initiative yesterday. I’ll pretend it’s because you’re eager to help your captain and not because you want to schmooze with this fancy chef.”

“I’m
always
eager to help my captain,” Beck said. “Also, I haven’t been looking under any of their dresses—” he waved to Abelardus’s robe, “—but
nobody
can possibly have hairier legs than the doc.”