“And that’s how Lyra might have a chance?”
“Only six servants bring food and beverages to the bridge. Six will enter tonight. Lyra will simply take the place of one who will be elsewhere,” Aigean confirmed.
“And what about the immediate needs of those injured fighters? Do you have any medical staff?”
Aigean nodded. “I have a very good medical technician. She’s seeing to the wounded, even as we speak. The problem is, while she has sufficient surgical equipment D’uhr impounded all the drugs from sick bay. He has them in his quarters. We believe he keeps them for personal use.”
“He’s ill?”
“Creator willing!” she viciously blurted. “But whether he is or not, he’s never contacted my med-tech for treatment. Some of his minions have, but the morphine isn’t available for use on any soldier. Not even his. It’s thought he covets the drug for recreational purposes or to sell at high prices on his home world.”
“Is there any way one of the staff could get to the meds?”
Sadness and anger were pasted on her countenance as she slowly shook her head. “D’uhr keeps them in a locked safe. It would be easy enough to break into, but the whole ship would suffer for the act. He’d go searching for what he assumes is his, room-to-room.”
Soldar heartily agreed with that eventuality.
“If it makes any difference, my crew will keep me constantly informed of those with dire needs. We’ll do whatever we can for them,” she promised. “My people are ready to approach certain Condorian quarters and use sex as a bribe. But this would only get us a small amount of recreational drugs.”
Soldar stared into space before speaking again. “Say nothing to Lyra. She’s to know none of this.”
• • •
Lyra hadn’t yet entered the main area. She’d just finished her quick shower, and her makeup and dressing session with Aigean’s women. They were still in the bathing area, preparing it for Soldar’s cleansing. The sound of hushed voices prompted her to stop behind several layers of gauzy curtains. Some impulse made her eavesdrop on her superior, the man she’d so recently trusted with her life.
It served her well to have hurried through her bathing routine. Sol would never have said a word about the survivors. He knew she’d argue for helping them, but wanted her to keep to their original plan — sending messages from the bridge.
As she saw it,
both
needs could be met. She wasn’t sure how, but if he didn’t trust her with all the information Aigean provided, then his desire to keep her in the dark was about to backfire. So long as she pretended not to know there were wounded fighters present, she had the same power he reserved. He couldn’t stop her if he didn’t know she had information.
When it came time — and there’d soon be a chance — she was going to get to those drugs. Her own brothers might have needed them before they died. In rooms around this ship, other brothers, sisters, fathers, or mothers suffered. But the Craetorian Colonel was more concerned about messages he could get to HQ. She sadly considered he might even covet tributes for having completed this task, even if he was able to send just a few messages before being caught and killed. While his world survived, they’d mark him a hero if his actions saved lives. Especially since he was in command.
Angry, but tamping the emotion down so he wouldn’t see it, she made sufficient noise and entered the main room. Sol turned and, from the rapt expression on his face, she knew the outfit Aigean’s women had chosen captured his full attention. The strange glow in his eyes might have been worth the trouble, but again she thought of the wounded lying so near. They’d been suffering while she was uninjured, eating wonderful food, and bathing in luxurious facilities.
Soldar Nar had no right keeping such information from her. But she forced a smile on her face and posed for him, taking his mind off what he hadn’t told her and putting it squarely on her figure.
If she could tempt a megalithic Craetorian warrior, how hard would it be to get close to a Condorian admiral? She’d bet the last breath that she could get somebody to give up medicine. Her only concern was how to go about this without actually letting the bastard touch her.
She planted images of those injured in her brain. Her rage at being kept in the dark fueled her intent.
I’ve got a new mission, Colonel Nar. And nothing’s keeping me from it.
Soldar felt as if every cell in his body had been torched.
Lyra stood in radiant glory, like a star shimmering in a midnight sky. Her already lovely features were now accented via some cosmetic expert’s hand. The sparkling blue-green eyes staring back at him were now shadowed with a smoky hue that made her appear exotic. To add to the breathtaking image, her skin had been dusted with some substance that shimmered in the dim light; her lips glowed with shiny red gloss that only accentuated their fullness. The shiny hair that normally curled just under her chin had been tucked behind each shell-like ear and her bangs softly fell just over her left eye. But it was the clothing she barely wore that almost made him drop to his knees.
She’d donned a silver cropped halter top that was tied just behind her neck. The tall goddesses’ slender, defined abdomen and midriff were bare. A matching silver skirt rode very low on her hips. But it only fell to her mid-thigh area. Around her waist was a crystal encrusted silver chain. It draped to one side. The loose end of the belt bore a blue stone that exactly matched the color of her eyes. Long, beautiful legs — the kind a man would kill to have wrapped around him — remained bare. Her tiny feet were shod with high, strappy sandals. A sweet, sparkling ankle bracelet made him want to lick the skin where it rested.
“She’s exquisite, isn’t she?” Aigean asked as she circled Lyra.
Rather than reply, Soldar simply turned away, intent on getting to the shower. There were no words that could do such beauty justice. And the thought of any Condorian actually seeing her in that outfit, much less nude, filled him with protective zeal and fear. Somehow, he had to guard her. Part of his brain reminded him she was a soldier. But the other part was on full, shielding alert.
Before he’d even left the room, he heard the women speak as if he was no longer within hearing range. He couldn’t help but note the droll tone in Lyra’s voice though it shouldn’t be there.
“I think he liked it,” Lyra blurted.
Aigean blithely responded with, “I think he’s already hard.”
On entering the room where the servants were laying out his clothes, Soldar briefly acknowledged them before sending them away. The clothing he was meant to wear hung near the bathing area. He’d need no help dressing in just the black leather-like pants and tall black boots. Since no shirt was provided, he assumed his chest was to remain bare so as to titillate any of the men or women in the audience. Obviously, whatever he put on now would have to come off during the performance. But he wasn’t worried for himself. The very thought of having intercourse with Lyra — in front of the enemy — was abhorrent. Even though fear tore into his conscience and heart, his testicles glowed with red-hot intensity. Confusion overwhelmed him. Either he wanted this, or he didn’t. Which was it?
No, it was the fact that Condorians were in the audience and would see that precious flesh exposed and would most certainly crave it. That made him even more afraid for Lyra’s safety.
All that angst notwithstanding, he was still quite ready to masturbate in the shower, just so he could rid himself of the lust clouding his every thought. No armband was going to stop any man from approaching his Earth counterpart for very long.
As he stood under the water and thought of her body, he pulled his testicles downward with one hand and stroked his cock with the other. It wasn’t long before semen shot forward but without the benefit of a warm, soft cavity to capture it. And as he watched his seed flow down the drain, and the climax ebbed, an idea came to him.
There might be one other way to keep so much of Lyra’s sweet, sensual body from scrutiny. Aigean might not like it, and the plan was feeble at best. But it was all he had.
It might be possible to shield her from view, using his own body as a sort of wall.
After finishing his shower, he dried his body and brushed out his hair. Donning the clothing took very little time. He placed the palms of his hands on the bathing area vanity, stared in the mirror at his reflection, and waited until the telltale glow in his eyes cooled. For some odd reason, a wash of homesickness hit him hard. The war had gone on too long. He missed his family and balmy, beautiful nights beneath safe, starry skies. If he tried, he could almost smell the flowers in his mother’s garden and hear his father arguing with his grandsire over some ridiculous move made while playing a board game. The laughter of his younger cousins and the faces of smiling servants were only memories. His family might not even recognize the man he’d become after so many years, and only intermittent radio or visual communications sent when his troop vessel was close to Craetoria.
All he wanted to do was walk in the woods during the evening hours, to be able to eat a meal or drink a clean, cool goblet of wine without feeling guilt over those whose homes had been decimated. The weight of everything he’d seen and all the death he’d delivered pressed on him. Now, he was responsible for yet one more life. And that soft, lovely, feminine image wouldn’t be driven from his mind.
“Creator, kill me or let me see home again. Please do one or the other soon. I can’t take much more of this.”
With those words softly uttered, he literally threw the brush he’d been using against the bath area wall. It was the only infantile gesture allowed him when his every move and word had to be guarded.
He was a soldier and a ranking officer. Others depended upon his calm demeanor for support and for the confidence to do their jobs. But his patience and his will to keep going were almost at an end. Before the night was over, he was surely going to put at least one fist through the face of any Condorian he could. His hatred of them knew no bounds. Because of them, the best part of his life was being lost to war, far away from home.
When he re-entered the main area where the dining table was located, he saw Lyra and Aigean seated. They were conversing while sipping from wine goblets. It was all so cozy and amicable except they were in the middle of a war zone and men in other rooms lay dying. He couldn’t even help those poor injured souls, from whatever allied planets they originated, without risking his mission. His impotence concerning this matter didn’t help his chaotic disposition.
He knew Lyra watched him closely as his movements became short and jerky, driven by supreme frustration. But the mission had to go forward and he hated it more with every passing moment.
Rather than question him, his new partner turned to Aigean and queried
her
about the evening’s proceedings.
Lyra somberly faced Aigean and laid out her plans for after their show was over. “When we’re finished, we’ll head back to this room and Sol can enter the authentication codes into the room’s computer. I’ll do my thing on the bridge and we’ll see what hits the fan afterward. We’ll take one moment at a time.”
Aigean nodded, then leaned forward and outlined the actual show.
• • •
Ten minutes before they were to perform, Soldar stood at the hatch to their quarters. Lyra, in all her seductive brilliance, stood beside him. He didn’t dare touch her, but simply waited for Aigean to unlock the hatch and lead them down the passageway and to the ship’s entertainment section. His loathing for the war and those who’d caused it only grew.
“Remember,” Aigean instructed, “simply do what comes natural. From what I witnessed, the two of you should have no problem amusing the crowd. Afterward, you’ll leave the stage by the same means I’ll show you now. I’ll make excuses to anyone wishing to meet you. I’ll say you won’t accept visitors or invitations until well after midnight,” she assured them. “This will be in accordance to the contract we agreed upon. But rest assured, you will both be summoned. I suggest you don’t anger the Condorian leaders. If you won’t heed their beckoning, they’ll come looking for you. And remember that you do not want them anywhere near this room’s computer workstation, where the codes will be imbedded.”
Lyra nodded, took a deep breath, and raised her chin. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Soldar took one look at the courageous expression on Lyra’s exquisitely designed face and hated himself for ordering her aboard. At least she’d have died with her much-protected dignity, in battle like a warrior. Here, she’d be nothing but a whore, served up for some man’s amusement.
“Remember your promise?” she asked softly. “You said you’d take me out before letting one of them have me.”
“I’ve forgotten nothing.”
Aigean broke into the conversation. “Need I remind you that the goal is to stay alive for as long as possible? My employees have learned to put up with great sorrows. Surviving is everything! Quit dwelling on what you can’t accomplish, but what you must endure to help others live. This situation has made whores of us all, in one way or another. Live to fight another day. Survive to see the enemy suffer!”
Lyra shook her head. “There are some things worse than death. Lying with a Condorian is about the most despicable act I can imagine.”
Aigean drew herself up in anger. “Use your wits, girl! I assume you have them to have survived this long. There are ways out of any situation if you only think. Dying does nothing but help the enemy. Death will come to us all one day, perhaps sooner than we’d like. But while you live, fight. Never give up. Never surrender.”
Soldar held up his hand to stop any ensuing argument. There was no time left for exchange of philosophies. “There’s nothing we can do except continue this pretense. But I can tell you this, Aigean … it should be the man or woman’s decision as to when and where to share their bodies. Your people made the decision that was acceptable for them, I’d have made the decision to be here if given the choice. But if Lyra has made
her
choice then so be it. I’ll defend it with my last breath. I’d no more see her taken against her will than I’d see one of my kinswomen ravaged. She’s a fighter, not a prostitute. The lives of those in each occupation are vastly different. I cast no judgment of your business or those employed by you, but surviving has to include a quantum of self-respect. Without it, what are we fighting for?” He turned to his Earth companion. “Whatever it takes, I’ll honor the promise I made, Lyra. Pray to the Creator I don’t have to.” In response, Lyra stared up at him with sheer gratitude painted on her features.