Forever's Not Enough (Galactic League of Planets) (3 page)

“Well, Mr. Chairman, without going into all the details, I’ll give you the high points. You may recall Lieutenant Hillsborough.”

“Right. Some incident. Wasn’t he demoted?”

“Yes, he was. It’s now Sergeant Hillsborough. Well, he’s been assigned as the ambassador’s personal protector while on the station. That should give us credible deniability when the time comes. We’ll just blame it all on him.”

“That’s too bad. I knew his father. Good man.”

“Well, it’s a small sacrifice for the good of the Corporation. Or so I thought.”

He watched the chairman take another sip of coffee and run his finger through the small silver plate of
Rangdon
spice, an officially illegal substance that, as always happened, meant it was actually reserved for the rich and powerful.

“Right you are, Blake,” the Chairman said smacking his lips, his eyes going blank for a beat.

“And I’ve arranged things for this evening at the Corporate dinner.”

“Very good, Blake. At least I won’t have to listen to her caterwauling tomorrow.”

Blake watched the chairman’s finger return for a second dip and wanted to leave.
How on earth, or anyplace else in the galaxy, could such a disgusting man rise to such a great place of power?

Pushing up from his chair he asked, “I assume you don’t really want to know exactly how it will happen.”

The Chairman’s face was a blank, his eyes vacant, his finger still stuck in his mouth where he sucked like a babe in mother’s arms.

When no answer came, Crenshaw retreated quietly from the chairman’s office and pulled the door closed with a soft click. Turning to the chairman’s assistant, he said, “He asked not to be disturbed for at least an hour.”

* * * *

No matter how much resolve he’d mustered standing in the middle of the room staring at the painting, no matter how many times he’d reminded himself of his calling and the fact many men
and other beings
had died in his bare hands, his knees almost gave way when she swept into the room purring.

“I’m so sorry, sergeant.”

He didn’t think to smile until the same young woman who had greeted him at the door stepped close to Madame Ambassador and whispered something in her ear.

He almost laughed at the reaction the whispered words brought when Madame Ambassador balled her fist, hit her chest, and coughed.

He knew the protocol, but oddly, it wasn’t needed as the compliment rolled off his tongue, “Madame Ambassador, you are lovely this evening.”

“Iiiiiiiiii…”
And he watched the fist come up again and listened to another cough.

His concern was real when he asked, “Are you all right? Did a doctor come with you? Should I call one for you?”

She blushed.

His knees trembled.

She smiled.

He cursed himself.

“Noooo…”
One last cough and she finally said something without a purr. “Thank you for your concern, Sergeant. How nice of you. I think it may be the air. I keep getting something caught in my chest, ah, throat. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

She was a vision. Her body shimmered softly beneath her white gown and her pale blue eyes smiled. Noting how hard his heart was pounding he cleared his own throat, stepped forward, and raised his arm, saying, “Yes, you may be right. My chest has felt funny all day.”

As they left he noticed the young woman had started giggling and wondered if there was a rip in the back of his trousers somewhere.

* * * *

She tried it again. Yes, the purring subsided. Swallowing definitely seemed to help.
Why didn’t her mother explain these things to her?

His arm is so big. It feels like a tree. Her thoughts immediately went to another part of his anatomy and she squelched another purring fit.
Oh my, what if he really does kill me?

As he escorted her down the long hall, she breathed deep and let her purr rattle a little. His arm feels like iron.
And his eyes. Killer’s eyes but oddly, every time he looks at me they soften and almost smile
.

Swallowing again she tried speaking. “I…well, Sergeant, I…” She cursed herself for not finding something, anything, to say.

“Yes, Madame Ambassador?”

His voice. So deep and strong. Firm and commanding.

She swallowed again. “I was wondering what part of earth you’re from?” she asked and chanced a sideways glance.

Oh my, and his smile. His chin is so strong, almost jutting. And his skin is so smooth.
She smiled when she realized she had an urge to pet him.

“Well, ma’am, my people actually come from the Leedon district on the moon. I do have family back on earth though. An aunt and uncle.”

“Oh, your moon. How lovely.” She was babbling but couldn’t stop. “And what color is your moon, Sergeant?”

Her chest rattled uncontrollably when he laughed.

“Well, mostly it’s just gray and several shades of darker gray. It’s just volcanic dust and rock, ma’am. But I did see it from earth once. On a trip. It looked red then.”

Yes,
she thought,
appropriate. The color of a warrior. It’s not the earth’s moon, it’s his moon.

“Oh, Sergeant, you must stop calling me ma’am. Why, I’m barely 68. My mother, the queen, would be ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that ma’am.”

When she realized he didn’t even know he was saying it she laughed and a purr slipped out like a rude burp and she covered her mouth. When she glanced at him, he only smiled and looked straight ahead.

“This is the entrance, ma’am. I believe you’re supposed to enter alone as the representative of your world.”

She clutched his arm and hesitated. His voice was soft and gentle, not at all what one might expect from such a big being. And she didn’t want to let go. It felt so good.
She
felt so good. And safe.

Then another voice invaded, one she’d just as soon forget.

“That’s alright, Sergeant, I believe that as the senior diplomatic officer present, the Madame Ambassador would enter on my arm. You will enter through that door over there.” She watched Mr. Crenshaw raise his hand and point. “And you will find your place and be seated.”

She felt dizzy as the tree she’d been clinging to disappeared and was replaced by a mere branch. Looking around quickly, she managed to catch his eye and smile. She felt her purring start again when he smiled back crookedly. Swallowing hard she looked ahead and stepped into the room on Crenshaw’s arm.

A small fanfare from an orchestra at the front of the room, talking stopped, and she was announced by an odd looking man with a long gold staff that he beat repeatedly against the floor.

“The Madame Ambassador Princess Peenzan Fanston of the planet Meline!”

As Crenshaw dragged her to the center of the room, she searched the crowd on her right for her tree. She finally found him walking along the wall, his head well above everyone else’s, and she felt her chest flutter when she saw him smile yet again.

More swallowing and she looked at the crowd of onlookers. Crenshaw abandoned her in the center of the room under a spotlight, and she thought, slithered away. Clearing her throat a last time she found the sergeant at the back of the room, smiled and he smiled back, and began her formal greeting to the people of earth.

* * * *

He wanted someone to punch him in the nose and wake him up. He was sure this was a bad dream and all he had to do was wake up, take a cold shower, and it would all go away.
Of course
, he thought,
I’ve already done that and it didn’t work.

It has to be something she uses on her body and he made a mental note to check with germ warfare in RandD the next day and see what they could tell him about the Meline.

Her gentle fragrance still persisted as, never taking his eyes off her, he found her place card and took up station behind her chair.

Like a guilty child he visibly cringed when he recalled his real duty and quickly scanned the crowd, the waiters, and the perimeter of the room for any visible threat to Madame Ambassador. No. Peenzan. And he whispered it, “Peenzan.”

He huffed when he realized his mind had locked up again.

The light made her dress translucent and he cursed his cock as his scan of the room was interrupted once more while he stared, captivated, by her shimmering presence in the center of the room.

Her legs were beautiful, and he noted with a man’s eye, very, very long. Her shoulders were as broad as her hips and her oval face intelligent and noble. Little wisps of champagne colored fur outlined her cheeks and faded into sideburns that disappeared into platinum hair that was pulled up tightly on top of her head where it fell down her back in silky ringlets. A true vision of beauty.

When he caught himself reaching for her, he pulled his hand back to his side and looked quickly at the people standing around him to see if he’d been caught.
Dammit all to hell! What has she done to me?

The crowded room burst into applause and he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt once more.
What the hell happened to the air conditioning in this place? It’s hot as hell in here.

And there she was. Smiling. His chest puffed when he realized her eyes were searching for him.

And then Crenshaw appeared at her side, and he had a sudden urge to pull his dress saber from its sheath and see how sharp it was.

Pulling her chair away from the ornately set table, he smiled and bowed slightly as Madame Ambassador sat, her shoulder brushing his fingers as he pushed forward.

“Thank you, Sergeant. How thoughtful.”

He was getting used to the purr and actually kind of liked it.

Sitting on her right he pulled the linen napkin into his lap and cursed himself again when he saw his hand shake.

“So, Madame Ambassador, I hope your stay has been pleasant.” Crenshaw managed to make even small talk sound like a sarcastic barb.

He caught a flash of anger in the ambassador’s eyes before she looked away to answer.

Something’s wrong. He was sure of it. And not just between Madame Ambassador and Crenshaw. It was him. His hands shook, his knees trembled like an old woman’s, he felt flushed, and he was sure his brow was sweating. As much as the thought bothered him, what bothered him even more, he was going to have to leave and report to the infirmary.

Resolve set in, and pushing on his knees to stand, he leaned toward the Ambassador, a mistake in itself, and whispered, “I must apologize, Madame Ambassador, but I’m not feeling quite myself. I think I should go find a doctor.”

It was overwhelming and he thought he’d pass out. The warm musky smell behind her ear nearly did him in.

Her smile and concern were both genuine, at least he thought it was, when she disengaged Crenshaw and turned on him to whisper urgently, “Please, Sergeant. I think I can explain if you’ll just sit back down. I just have to make an appearance and then we can go someplace…quieter to talk about it.”

Her hand fell gently, soothingly, on his and it wasn’t a question of willingness. It was a question of not breaking the finely carved piece of wooden furniture when he fell back with a grunt into his chair.

He felt dizzy and tried to clear the cobwebs while, her hand still resting on his, she turned back to Crenshaw and continued to speak. The chatter in the room had grown to an annoying roar and he noted something green had been put into his soup dish.

He was unable to follow the conversation and had no idea why. He could only discern that Madame Ambassador was not only angry, she was pissed as hell.

Music began, and he slumped back into his chair and tried to stop the spinning. The word poison floated to the top of what little consciousness he still clung to and he struggled to sit up straight.

Her face appeared in the haze the room had become and he heard, “Be still, my darling. I will make it well soon.”

My darling? She will make it well?
A part of him struggled to gain his freedom from the small delicate hand that, still resting on his, seemed to have pinned him to his chair.

Another part smiled and felt comforted.

His last coherent thought was “Death by she-cat,” and he engaged in a very juvenile and unmanly activity. He tried to stop it. The struggle became the center of his universe, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop giggling.

* * * *

“Praaaannnnnnn!”

What am I to do with you?
She looked at her tree propped in the doorway of her suite, his black dress uniform askew, a crooked grin on his face, and his cock raging in his slacks.
Oh, my Bast!

“Praaaaaaaannnnnnn!”

She couldn’t help it. There was no way to stop the purring and it was entirely too pleasant to worry about anyway.

“Princess!”

“You have to help me. Be quick. We must get him inside before Crenshaw discovers I’ve left the dinner.”

“But what have you done, Peenzan? What are we to…” Pran stopped and stared.

“Yes,”
she purred contentedly,
“Isn’t it amazing?”

The entire time Pran pulled and prodded the giant she protested, “But, Princess, it will kill you! It isn’t physically possible!”

She swallowed several times and shot back, “Nonsense, Pran. We’re all made the same. I’m not made any different.” Then she rethought that. “Well, much different from the women of his own planet.”

They both watched the sergeant stagger along mumbling.

She pulled on his big hand while Pran went back to close and lock the suite door.

“Oh.” His eyes brightened, and he smiled at her and said, “There you are.”

“Yes, my darling. I’m right here. But you must follow me. You must keep walking. Please, my love.”
And she kept tugging his big hand.

When his other hand came up to trap her, she ducked and giggled,
“Praaaaaannnnn!”

“You must stop purring! It only makes it worse!”

She swallowed and managed, “I know. You’re right. Let me go prepare and you bring him to me.”

* * * *

The spin his world was in slowly came to a stop and he was staring at a crystal chandelier. He scowled when he realized how the colors had captivated him. Then he found a new word for how he felt and blushed.
Goofy.
He felt goofy. Like being drunk, but better.