Sleeping With the Enemy (7 page)

    Sybil did roll her eyes that time. “Do you think the base commander is aware of everything that happens on the base? Yes, he would probably hear about it, but that wouldn’t do you any good-not if it was after the fact.”

    “What kind of creature
is
he?” Holly demanded as if she hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

    Anger surged through Sybil but she tamped it, examined it, and realized why she’d felt it. “I think he’s a good man.” The kind that would try to protect a complete stranger from harm by shielding her with his own body.

* * * *

    Anka cursed himself for being ten kinds of fool all the way down to the command center. He arrived to find chaos, however, and that, thankfully, distracted his mind for a time. “What happened?”

    “The volcano in sector ten blew!” Loka, the captain on duty reported.

    “I deduced that,” Anka said dryly. “It was too close to be anything else. What’s the damage?”

    “Damage to the shutters on the southern observation room, Sir! The translucent is cracked but holding. I don’t know how long it will continue, though, with the atmospheric pressure. We sealed the room off and I sent a crew out to repair the damage to the shutters as soon as the volcano ceased to bombard us.”

    Anka nodded grimly. “What’s the estimated time on patching it?”

    “Within the hour, Sir.”

    Anka relaxed fractionally. “Send another crew out to examine the hull for any other damage. We can’t afford a breach.” He scanned the other workstations in the room finally settling his attention on Cerek. “Any damage to any of the terra-forming units?”

    Cerek saluted. “I’m still checking, sir. The unit that lies between us and the volcano seems to be working alright, but there was quite a bit of debris deposited around it and there’s interference in communications-which could be damage to the unit or simply damage to communications. We need to site check it. Unfortunately, the conditions aren’t safe right now for flight and there’s a lava river cutting us off from it.”

    Anka nodded. “Ready a team to go out as soon as it’s deemed safe enough. No heroics. We can afford to lose anybody.” As he turned to go, he met up with Onur, one of the civilian engineers attached to the project. His expression was eloquent of doom and Anka felt his belly clench in anticipation. “Yes?”

    “We lost at least six droids at the new construction site.”

    Anka ground his teeth to keep from cursing long and loudly. “You’re certain?”

    Onur looked uncomfortable. “We lost communications with them. No, I’m not completely certain, but it seems likely.”

    Anka nodded grimly. “Inform me immediately if you manage to reestablish communications. Otherwise, you’ll need to take a team out when it’s possible to retrieve the units to see if there’s anything salvageable.”

    Onur looked uncomfortable. “I think the damage to the construction site was pretty heavy, as well.”

    “Very likely that will be more a matter of wasted man-hours than resources. Let me know when you have a full report on it.”

    He paused in the corridor outside of the command center, trying to decide where to go next. Remembering abruptly that he’d offered to try to retrieve Sybil’s flight suit, he headed down to the recycling center. It wasn’t difficult to find. The materials it was made of were not like anything that they had. Beyond that, there wasn’t actually a lot that made it to the recycler. No one was willing to give anything up as long as there was some use to be had from it.

    He hesitated as he retrieved it, an image of her in the bulky flight suit rising to his mind. He supposed it served a purpose, but she didn’t need it now, regardless of what she thought. She certainly needed something, however. From the moment he’d seen her in the short top and briefs that left her more bare than clothed, he had been on fire. He’d refused to consciously acknowledge it, but he wouldn’t have done anything as stupid as he had if he’d had an ounce of self-control or resistance. And he wouldn’t have as much control now as he’d had before when it was only his imagination working upon him.

    It wasn’t that he regretted the impulse to try to protect her. Although he acknowledged that it would’ve been a useless gesture if the hull actually had been breached, the impulse to do so was telling in itself. He hadn’t considered that it would be useless. He hadn’t considered anything beyond trying to protect her.

    Until he’d gathered her into the dubious shelter of his body. Even his fear that they would both be crushed by the atmospheric pressure and suffocated by Venus’ toxic fumes hadn’t been enough to allow him to completely detach his mind from her then, though.

    He hadn’t expected to see interest in her eyes when he’d looked down at her despite the way she’d clung to him. He’d expected to see fear, perhaps dawning revulsion when she realized who, and what, was holding her. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it that had thrown him completely off kilter, but that was little comfort… now.

    He should’ve pulled away from her.

    He didn’t even know why he’d felt the urge to kiss her and yet that was exactly what had popped into his mind. It was an Earth mating ritual, not theirs and, as aware of he had been of it, he had never been particularly curious about it, couldn’t recall that he’d ever wondered, until he’d found himself looking down at Sybil, what it must feel like when they did that.

    It had felt almost like the act of love-making itself,
more
intimate in some strange way that he couldn’t quite grasp than many times when he actually had made love to a woman.

    He tried to crush the thought and banish it. She wouldn’t consider taking him as a lover even if it was possible, and it wasn’t-not what he wanted, in any case. She wouldn’t understand their customs.

    He didn’t completely understand the Earth customs, if it came to that, although he knew the mechanics of their various liaisons. With them they were either lovers or mates, together or not. They took lovers, but not in the way his people did. There was no real relationship. There was no expectation that they would form a long term bond, perhaps have children together. They were merely lovers and free to go to another whenever they chose. Their lovers had no rights, no expectations beyond the moment.

    Not that lovers on his own world were under any hard and fast obligation to cleave to one another, particularly in the budding of romance. Part of the excitement of it was learning one another and, unfortunately, that also led to disappointment on occasion and one or the other would decide they simply weren’t suited.

    The chances were that Sybil would even if she understood completely. They were too different. Where would they find a meeting of minds, hearts, and interests?

    It was far better not to think about it-especially now. He was too… needy, little though he liked to acknowledge it. He’d lost too much, been severed from his roots, and he would not be able to handle disappointment well if she rejected him.

    He needed to focus on the good of all, on trying to unravel the political mess of preserving what they had left against the aggression of the Earth people. He had to keep his wits about him.

    There could be no harm in looking, however, of taking pleasure in the joy of living that only desire for a beautiful woman could engender. For a little while, he could enjoy the pulse pounding excitement of flirtation with a desirable woman who, if not similarly enchanted with him at least seemed curious. He could fantasize, as long as he was discreet and kept a tight rein on himself.

    It would be playing with fire. He knew it would, but the urge was too compelling to completely ignore it. For the first time since the disaster on their home world, he actually felt as if he was alive not merely existing and, as grateful as he was to be a survivor, it wasn’t enough.

    His decision made, he carried Sybil’s suit to the recycling unit and resolutely stuffed it into the hopper. When he’d selected the design that most appealed to him, he programmed the processor and ordered it to be delivered to her once finished. Noting the time to completion, he left the recycling center and went to check the progress of the ‘feast’ he’d ordered prepared. It seemed propitious that it was expected to be served within an hour after she would receive her new clothing.

    Resisting the urge to return immediately to his quarters to examine his own skimpy wardrobe for something that might appeal to her and spend the time while he waited grooming in an effort to attain whatever perfection he could, he headed to his office to review the details of the latest disaster. His dress uniform and a bath would be sufficient. Anything more and the entire populace of the fucking base would be speculating that he was serious in his courtship.

* * * *

    Sybil had mixed feelings when Holly left to join the others in the observatory. She hadn’t particularly welcomed Holly’s company but it had been a distraction from her thoughts and once she left there was no distraction. Beyond that, she strongly suspected the reason Holly had left was to report to the others and discuss what she might have been doing when she was alone with the aliens.

    She didn’t like the sense that she’d become an outsider rather than a part of the team, but she wasn’t sure that joining the group would dispel what seemed to be a widening chasm. Even if she’d thought it would help, she didn’t feel comfortable sitting with them in her underwear. She hadn’t liked the way Spencer had looked at her.

    The arrival some time later of clothing was almost a relief, regardless of the fact that it was delivered by one of the creepy little gray droids. The discovery that it wasn’t her suit as she’d thought dispelled the relief very quickly, though. Shocked at first when she examined it, anger very quickly took precedence. It
was
the material. She was sure of that. It just wasn’t her suit.

    She wasn’t sure what the hell it was! She flung it down on the bunk as soon as she realized it wasn’t what she’d thought, holding her anger inside with an effort and mentally berating Anka and the aliens in general.

    “They brought your flight suit?”

    Sybil glared at Holly unwelcomingly. “What’s left of it,” she responded tightly.

    Curiosity flickered in the woman’s eyes. “What’s left of it?”

    Sybil’s lips tightened. “Clearly, it had already been recycled.”

    Holly moved closer and examined the clothing. Sybil watched her resentfully, but refrained from blasting the woman with her temper with an effort. “It looks like a skirt and some sort of top.”

    Sybil slipped to the edge of the bed and took it from the other woman. “I might as well put it on-not that it will be any protection, damn it! At least I don’t have to run around in my underwear, though.”

    As simple as the garments appeared to be, it took her a few minutes to figure out how to put them on and she wasn’t comfortable when she had. The top had sleeves, but it was backless, which meant removing her t-shirt or looking like an idiot or a prude. It sure as hell wasn’t going to keep her warm! And she’d forgotten to ask for her boots! Of course,
those
would’ve looked absolutely lovely with the outfit!

    She looked down at it when she’d finished dressing and was dismayed to discover she looked almost as damned naked as she had before! The top barely covered her front, wrapping only partially around her sides and she had a bad feeling she had side-boob showing. The skirt went to her ankles, but it was slit damned near to the waist of her damned panties on both sides!

    Was this what
their
women wore?

    “It looks… uh… well, it’s certainly sexy!”

    Sybil glared at her. “Thanks!” she muttered. Resisting the urge to fling it off and cover up in bed again, she stalked from the room. Her arrival in the observatory almost coincided with Anka’s return and created a sensation. Powell, Spencer, and Kushbu turned to look at her, did a double-take and then simply gaped at her. She could already feel her face turning red when Anka stepped through the door and came to a halt as if he’d slammed into an invisible wall.

    She didn’t think she’d ever in her life been as keenly aware of her femininity or as uncomfortable about it. The urge to retreat was strong and instantly at war with the urge to pretend nonchalance she didn’t feel and simply find a place to sit-assuming she could without exposing herself. The end result was that she was as frozen in place as a manikin and unable to decide whether to retreat or not.

    Powell seemed to recover first, but he looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be outraged or pleased that she’d been given something to wear. He flicked an assessing, almost possessive glare in Anka’s direction.

    Almost as if the three men were mentally linked, Spencer and Kushbu also looked at Anka. She could almost see their hackles rise like a pack of cur dogs that had all spotted a female in heat at the same time-and a bigger dog that seemed intent on marking his territory first.

    It was the most bizarre, unnerving situation she’d ever found herself in. Not one of her crewmembers had ever looked at her, or behaved, in any way as if they had any interest in her as a woman. She didn’t think they were now. It was pure territorialism because the ‘other’ dog wasn’t a member of the pack.