Mercenary Courage (Mandrake Company) (10 page)

Viktor shrugged. “I’ve been in quarantine situations before. Best to lie low and see what happens before worrying. Maybe your microbiologist can inject us with some alien gut bugs to help protect us.” His eyes crinkled, a rare public glimpse of humor from him.

Though Ankari could not dismiss the danger quite so easily, she knew he admired courage and equanimity, so she went along with the lightness in his tone. “My microbiologist has a name. Lauren. I’m fairly certain you know it.”

“Yes, but I’ve only seen her two or three times in the months she’s been aboard my ship. I don’t think she ever invited me to use her first name. Or any name.”

“She’s been out of her lab more often than
that
.”

“Four times?”

“That sounds about right.”

Ankari patted him on the chest, though she couldn’t help but think of the things she should put in order in case a widespread disease took over the station and she was affected. Jamie and Lauren were in the shuttle bay, so they were locked on Midway 5 with her. Who would take over the business if something happened to all of them? And her mother and siblings. What of them? They didn’t even know where in the system she was right now. She had been saving up money so she could buy them a home somewhere nice, or at least outside of that slum back on Novus Earth. She had wanted to come visit them in person to deliver the money, so her mother in particular would see that Ankari had finally found a modicum of success. More than that, she had wanted to share in the house hunt with them, to say goodbye to that rough neighborhood where she had grown up. But if she had limited time, she would have to move things along.

“Are you all right?” Viktor wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Yes. Just... thinking that we should pay for that room with the double shower heads now, because there’s about to be a run on station lodgings.”

“Good point. I’ll—”

Viktor’s comm-patch chimed. He must have expected it because he answered, “Mandrake here,” without missing a beat.

“Looks like you’re stuck,” Commander Garland growled. “Borage and Azarov were literally ten meters from the ship when the announcement was made and a couple of security androids ran out to guard the airlock. Same thing happened on the half dozen ships attached to the repair bay. We could blow up the androids, if you think we need to escape and get out of here, but we only got half of our replacement parts on board before this happened. And I don’t think we can escape the docking clamps without doing damage to our ship.”

“Let’s reserve blowing up androids until later,” Viktor said quietly, eyeing the security guards. The men had mostly cleared the nearby area, and a couple of them were observing him and Ankari. “But I do want you to get the ship fully operational. In addition to visiting our injured men in the hospital and making funeral arrangements, I’ve been snooping around over here, gathering intel from on-station resources.” Viktor’s lips twisted wryly as he met Ankari’s eyes. He shook his head, as if he was scoffing at himself for bending the truth. Feeling guilty about the brief time he had spent with her, was he? She didn’t know why. It sounded like he had done a lot before she had found him. “Someone in the Fleet is gunning for me,” Viktor went on. “Apparently, there’s a meeting coming up in the next three days too. Here on the station. They’ll have to move it if the quarantine is still in effect, but the last thing I want is to be here when a dozen Fleet ships fly in to dock.”

Garland cursed. “You should have come straight back to the ship. There are a lot of people who want you dead, Fleet notwithstanding.”

“Glad to know you care, Garland.”

“You know I don’t. We just need you here to sign for the new batch of food logs when they come in.”

Viktor snorted. “I’ll trust you to keep the repairs going as swiftly as possible.”

“And if it’s not possible to finish before all those Fleet ships arrive?”

“We may have to make it possible,” Viktor said grimly.

“Understood.”

Viktor cut the line, but he made another call before taking a breath.

“Borage here,” his engineer replied.

“Azarov with you?” Viktor asked.

“Yes, sir. We’re admiring the hull of the
Albatross
through the window. A couple of well-armed androids are admiring us from outside of our airlock.”

“I heard. We’ll have to sleep here tonight. I want the repairs further along on the ship before we think of taking any drastic actions.”

“Agreed, sir. Your leased shuttle is in one of the station’s bays, isn’t it? As much as I loathe asking this, due to its excessively pink nature—not to mention the furry seat covers—shall we bunk there until the quarantine blows over?”

“Furry seat covers?” Viktor raised his eyebrows.

“A recent addition,” Ankari whispered. “They’re red with black spots. Jamie and I are preparing for when you give in and officially name the craft
Ladybug
. On paper.”

“They’re dreadful, sir,” Borage said at the same time, not hearing Ankari. “By mistake, the box they came in was delivered to my engine room. You’re not known for your sense of humor, sir, so I was fairly certain you weren’t playing a joke on me. But I thought they might be a punishment. I was relieved when I found the purchase order and saw they should have gone to the shuttle bay instead. Somewhat relieved, that is.”

Ankari smiled brightly.

Viktor usually managed to appear tough and soldierly, no matter what was going on around him, and this was no different, but she was sure his green Grenavinian eyes held a hint of horror in their depths.

“The shuttle is the logical place to bunk,” Viktor said, “and, while we’re there, we can discuss the flexibility of Microbacteriotherapy, Inc.’s lease of
Delta
Shuttle.” His eyes narrowed at Ankari as he said the name.

“Wait,” she whispered, pointing to his comm-patch. “If you have them get a hotel room,
we
can get a hotel room without any of your men thinking you’re receiving privileges they aren’t.” Ankari felt silly thinking of herself as a
privilege
, but in the time she had spent on board, she had learned how much those men came to crave companionship during the long months in space. Few of them were married, and even those who were rarely got to return home to see their wives. Most of the others had to make do with prostitutes during their short bouts of shore leave, and even if nobody would speak of it to Viktor’s face, she had heard grumblings in the corridors about how
he
got to have a woman when nobody else did.

Viktor hesitated, his sense of honor perhaps objecting to the idea of claiming more time with her than he already had when his men had no such indulgences to turn to. She understood, but she wanted a night with him, damn it, not simply a hasty shuttle docking in an elevator. She wanted to hear about this last mission of his, and in case something did happen on the station, and this quarantine resulted in an epidemic that threatened them all, she wanted more time with him.

“If you don’t join me in that hotel room,” Ankari whispered, “I’ll make you sleep on the seat with the biggest and fluffiest fuzzy ladybug spots.”

He snorted, but he did contact Borage again. “Change of plan. You and Azarov can get hotel rooms on the station. Big, luxury ones. Relax. Invite some women over if you want.” A mischievous gleam entered Viktor’s eyes, and he gazed directly into Ankari’s as he continued. “Microbacteriotherapy, Inc., because they don’t want their clinic disturbed by our sooty bodies, has graciously agreed to pay for rooms for all of us during the duration of the quarantine.”

Ankari felt her mouth drop open.

“They have?” Borage sounded pleasantly surprised—or maybe shocked would be the accurate term. “Well, how about that? I accept, and I expect Azarov will, too, once he finishes glaring at that android. Luxury, huh.”

Ankari closed her mouth. Even if she could not justify taking money out of the company pocketbook, and would have to pay for the mercenaries’ luxury accommodations on her own, it would not be the worst thing in the galaxy, especially if it improved Borage’s opinion of her business. And gave her the night with Viktor.

“Keep your comm-patches with you,” Viktor said. “I may need you on short notice if anything comes up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How is it,” Ankari asked, when Viktor ended the call, “that I’m the shrewd businesswoman and you’re the thugly soldier, yet I always come out on the bottom in my negotiations with you?”

“Negotiations? Weren’t you trying to manipulate me?”

“Well, yes, but for our mutual pleasure. I thought you would approve.”

“Of furry seat covers and a shuttle named
Ladybug
? I think not.” Viktor lowered his hand to her backside, squeezed her on the ass, and nodded to the corridor that led to the hotel area. “Shall we find those shower heads now? Perhaps a cleaning will make me less thugly.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.” Ankari looped her arm around him, doing a little ass-squeezing of her own. “You’re lucky I like thugly soldiers. Even ones who take woeful advantage of me.”

“I am lucky,” he agreed, gazing down at her as they walked.

The admission should have warmed her heart, but an odd wistfulness accompanied it, as if he had darker thoughts on his mind. Well, maybe he would share them tonight. She wanted to be a confidante for him as much as an accomplice and ally. She was not sure when he had come to matter so much to her, but she could not imagine not having him in her life now.

Chapter 4

Having explored what activities might be undertaken in a shower with dual heads and also in a bed almost as large as his combat shuttles, Viktor dozed on his side, one arm wrapped around Ankari’s waist, the other providing a pillow for her. The soft glow of a clock told him morning approached, but for once, there was no rush to get to work, so he lay quietly, enjoying the soft, warm skin pressed against his body. His dreams had been dark since leaving Nimbus, and he was relieved that he had made it through the night without reliving the ugly, bloody retreat—or the battle against fire that they had barely survived on the way to the station. He must have been too worn out by physical exertions to dream. He smiled against Ankari’s shoulder, kissing her softly, though she had not yet stirred.

Eventually, he would have to say what was on his mind, that the ship was not a safe place for her lab and that it would be selfish of him to keep her there. But not yet. Let them have a few days—a few nights—of peace first. Insomuch as they could while the station was on quarantine and doctors worked feverishly to figure out if a new disease had been brought on board.

A soft beep came from the pile of clothing on the floor beside the bed. His comm-patch? No, it sounded like the higher-pitched summons of Ankari’s unit, or maybe an alarm she had set.

Either way, it roused her from sleep. Sort of. Eyes still closed, she patted at the empty night table.

“A little lower,” Viktor murmured.

“Hm?” Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her face toward him, smiling blearily.

“It’s coming from the floor.”

“Oh. Right.” She rolled toward the edge of the bed, giving him a nice view of her bare butt as she dug out her comm. She flopped back, a tumble of soft hair falling across Viktor’s bare shoulder. “I dreamed that we were back in the shower and you were giving me instructions again.”

A surge of heat rushed to his groin at the memory of that moment, of the talented way she had put her lips and her tongue to use. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had not gotten around to returning that particular favor, especially after pounding into her with far too much animalistic urgency in the elevator. After the month he’d had, he had needed a release and been thinking too much about sating himself and not enough about pleasing her. He vowed to make up for that later.

“They were less instructions and more pleas, as I recall,” Viktor murmured. “I use my command voice when I instruct.”

“Oh, how would one know the difference? Is there more grunting? More growling?”

“The same amount.” He kissed her shoulder again. “But I’d probably call you soldier and tell you to call me sir.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen.” She grinned at him.

Chuckling, he slid his hand down to her bare waist. Maybe he would show her some of that
pleasing
this morning. But she was frowning thoughtfully at her comm unit, so perhaps she had some business on the mind.

“I need to make a call,” Ankari said. “It’s evening back home, so I thought this would be the best time. We’re close enough in that a live call shouldn’t be very laggy, right?” Her brow crinkled as she pondered the problem, then she nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I haven’t been this close to civilization in months. Too bad the station is under threat of a deadly virus.”

“Hm,” Viktor said noncommittally. He refused to worry about that until more evidence had been announced. Ankari seemed quite concerned, though, perhaps because she had been so close to one of the people who died.

“Mind if I leave you to comm home?” she asked, then gave him a quirky smile and added, “Sir? I promise to return and let you instruct me further.”

“I thought I’d let you instruct
me
this morning.”

“Oh? That wouldn’t bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“Well, you have your past with those... counselors.” Ankari lifted a shoulder uncertainly. “You don’t talk about it, but I wasn’t sure if being bossed around in bed by a woman might be... awkward.”

“That was a long time ago. And you’re nothing like a Fleet counselor. They’re not mischievous and saucy. And they don’t pick pockets.”

Ankari’s uncertainty faded, and she grinned at him. “They sound repressed.”

“Yes.”

He let himself run his hand along her hip and down the side of her thigh for one more admiring roam before pulling back so she could get up. He loved that those thighs could launch people across an intersection, but that they—and every part of her—remained feminine. Beautiful. Alluring. He continued to add adjectives as she turned up the lights and dressed, giving him ample looks at her form as she did so.