Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) (23 page)

"Come with me, then." The offer was selfish, but he was unable to stop. "There are places out there along the outer reaches, colonies and outposts that would welcome us. They have no more use for the peacekeepers than I do."

She smiled at him, but there was no joy in it. "I wish I could, but if I was with you, I'd wish I was back home on Earth. I have children, Tor, children who have lost so much already. They can't afford to lose me, too. I have a sister expecting her first child. She's going to need me or at least my patience and good sense." She tried to laugh and failed. "And who'll take care of Mohawk? He's getting older, you know, and we're his family. Mira will have her duties as wife of the new Governor. She'll have her baby, and I don't suppose she'll agree to leave her job. It's a full blown newspaper now. Someone has to look after the old rascal." Her regret was reflected in her sigh.

"I have to be there. Don't you see? The Godan have taken over our protection, but we can't expect them to do it all. The war has done so much damage. There are children who need homes, the elderly with no one to make sure they stay warm and fed, people who feel too hopeless to begin again, and people who just need to know there's someone out there who cares. I have no special talent. I'm not strong the way Mira is, but I'm young and healthy and I can do those things for people. I'll never be a hero, but I don't need to be. I have a purpose in life and it's a good one. This time with you and the others has helped me see that.

"You took me from a nightmare to a dream, Tor, but now it's time for me to wake up. You need to get your ship back and take care of your crew. I need to go home and take care of mine." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

He wanted to argue, but knew she was right. What kind of life did he have to offer a woman like Wynne who needed people around her to care for? They would never be able to stay in one place for too long. Her sister was pregnant with a Godan child. What if Wynne was GCP, too? A life on the run or confined to a ship was no way to raise a child. A pip needed sunshine and the smell of growing things. They needed the company of others.

"Then we'd better get started on those memories," he said and reached for the lever high up on one of the corner posts. Screens slid along their tracks, enclosing the platform on all four sides. "They let the breeze in, but keep prying eyes out. This may be Celos, but sleeping families like their privacy, too. Besides, it keeps the pips from rolling off in the middle of the night."

"Those clever Celosians." Wynne had her tunic off and tossed to the side as soon as the last screen clicked shut. "I don't suppose they're soundproof, too."

Tor laughed as she pulled at his shirt. "They're for sleeping, Kushma."

"Then we'd better keep the snoring to the minimum."

He stopped her hands when she reached for his belt. He was as eager as she, but wanted to give her a memory that would last. "You give and give, Kushma. This time you'll be the one to receive."

"But you said you liked it."

"Did I?" he asked as he pushed her back onto the bed. "When I'm finished, I'll give you a chance to remind me."

He removed her boots and then crawled up over her body to find that kissable mouth waiting for his lips without further complaint. He kissed her slowly and deeply. He took his time moving from her mouth to her eyes to her temples. He used his tongue and lips to memorize the lines of her nose, and cheeks, and chin. He resented the jewels that kept him from tasting every inch of the beautiful face.

Fingers entwined with hers, he held her hands above her head, though he didn't need to. She left them there when he slid his hands along the length of her arms while his mouth sought her breasts. She sighed with contentment and pleasure as he suckled and toyed with each one. Plump with the firmness of youth, Tor filled his hands with their abundance. The brown nipples responded instantly to his attentions and Wynne's soft moan expressed her loss when he withdrew and moved downward to taste her ribs and soft belly.

"Mmmm." It was the sound of sensual bliss as her body arched to meet his mouth. "I like that."

"Really?" His laugh vibrated against the softness of her skin. "It's hard to tell."

"Shhh." Her whispered reprimand was followed by a giggle. "Remember the neighbors."

"Ah. I'll try to restrain my enthusiasm."

"Don't you dare!"

"Fussy woman, you're never satisfied. Always criticizing my performance."

"It's not your performance. It's the intermission between the acts. Get on with it and make me come."

With others she was careful with her words and blushed easily. With him, she was free, her wants unfiltered. More than her body was exposed during their private time together. She was real. It was another gift shared only with him.

"All in good time. It's my turn to be the boss, remember?" He laughed at her whimper of frustration.

He let his tongue dally at her navel until her impatient hips demanded more. How could he refuse? He drew a line with his finger from her navel to her woman's slit, already damp with want. Her legs opened further with a touch to her thighs. With the next thrust of her hips, Tor slid his hands beneath the globes of her ass and lifted her to meet his mouth.

Her nub, tiny and hidden to all but him, poked from its concealing hood as eagerly erect as his straining cock. His tongue danced around it while his fingers played the tune, delving in and out of her wet and welcoming channel to set the rhythm.

Her whispers turned to tiny cries muffled by the sleeve of her tunic that she clenched between her tiny white teeth. He watched her as she came. Eyes glazed with the results of his efforts, mouth slightly open with panting breath, silken skin shining with moisture, Wynne was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Her body relaxed and her eyes closed.

"If my arms and legs would work," she panted, "I'd give you a standing ovation."

If the neighbors were disturbed, it was Tor's laughter that woke them.

Chapter 23

Ish pointed through the dirty window at the two men sprawled across a lopsided table. Their eyes were closed and their mouths were open and drooling. Three bottles, two upright and empty, one on its side with contents pooled on the floor, also shared their table along with the remnants of whatever they'd eaten that was now being shared with the flies. The mess at the table flowed over into the room.

"There are the two fathers you were so worried about. That's Till on the right. He'd sell his own wife if the money was right and in fact has, though I hear her body's so played out she's not much use to him now. Beso would do it, too, if his wife would stay sober long enough."

Wynne's stomach revolted at the sight. The idea of children living in such squalor was heartbreaking. "Can we take the kids with us?"

"Sure. We can raise the next generation of killers and thieves."

"I said I was sorry." Her shoulders sagged when she sighed. "Okay, I deserved that."

"Another mistake. Never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness. We are what we are."

"What you are is a lie. I figured that out, too."

"Yeah, yeah, poor Ish." The woman motioned for Wynne to follow. "Cry me a waterfall, but keep walking."

Boneyard was a fitting name. The otherwise barren acreage was littered with the skeletons of spaceships, large and small, and other equipment Wynne couldn't identify. Most of it looked like it had been there for years. Hills of sand marked the places where time had covered the rest.

"Till's a slug," Ish told her, "But he's still the best source of spare parts for older ships as long as you're willing to dig them out yourself and pay what it's worth and not what he asks." She pointed to the far end of the field where a black metal monster shot up from the sand. "That's where we're headed. Looks like we beat Tor and Mohawk in spite of Alamandria's fussing."

The two men had left before them with Tor saying he had a few things to take care of on the way. It would be less noticeable to travel in pairs. Mohawk wasn't happy about it, but after Tor took him aside to speak, the old warrior reluctantly agreed.

Alamandria was eager to see them go, but as soon as the door closed behind the men, she set about packing bags of clothing and cosmetics for Wynne.

"I'm happy you've chosen Tor. He will take care of you in the best way he can. Learn from him, but..." The former
mordata cosma
raised an elegant finger. "His future is in question. If things should end badly, you'll need these things to begin again. Men don't like a woman who dresses in tough clothing." This was said with a reproving look for Ish's leather outfit.

Wynne started to protest that she'd lived quite well without a man, but Ish, who had no interest in anything feminine beyond her sexually explicit gold pendants, stopped her.

"How generous of you, Alamandria. Where are your manners, Wynne? Say thank you."

Wynne did as she was instructed, offering her thanks with a smile, though she didn't understand why Ish would care. Alamandria beamed at her and then took Ish's hand, folding it around a much smaller token of affection. She leaned in as if to kiss the Osana woman's cheek, but whispered in her ear instead.

"If you see him, kill him."

Surprisingly, it was Ish who did the cheek kissing. "I'll be happy to."

Surprising Wynne again, she even carried the heavier bag and continued to carry it after they turned the corner and were out of sight.

"Giving you those things made her happy and she has little enough of that," Ish said as they walked through the dark streets. She must have felt Wynne's surprise at the sympathy. She made a sour face in response. "The only thing Alamandria ever did wrong was turn down the wrong offer. She gave good value for the money she was paid and her services went way beyond the bedroom. She was generous with her love and her money, and she never betrayed a friend. It isn't only her face. She wants revenge for her Companion. He was with her from the beginning and he died trying to protect her. She's a little off, but she never lost track of what's important. She introduced me to Tor, you know. Said he needed someone he could trust to watch his back."

"And he could be trusted to watch yours." She was beginning to see how this crew fit together.

Ish glanced Wynne's way. "Aren't you the clever one? Posy came next, and then Digger joined us when he was released from the military. Chubo and Nix came after that, and Lusomo was last. You know about Truca. There were a few others in between, but they didn't fit."

"They didn't like making runs to the outer reaches without much profit to show for it." Again, it was a statement and not a question.

"That, too."

Ish wasn't the type to speak of things like love and compassion. She would see that as weakness, too, but she understood what it meant.

"I would have been like Gisela if it wasn't for Alamandria and Tor," she said in her typical matter-of-fact tone. "I owe her and I pay my debts. Digger and Lusomo deserve that, too."

"But how will you find him? Tor said you won't be leaving the dock."

Wynne pulled the shawl, a real one this time, further over her face when they passed two women in the street. It was a few hours before dawn and most of the people they passed were only interested in getting home, but she wasn't taking any chances.

"Did I just call you the clever one? I take it back."

After a few more turns, Ish continued as if they hadn't spent the last ten minutes in silence. "You're getting on that rust bucket with us, right? You're going to Imperial City, right?" She looked at Wynne as if expecting an answer.

"Yes, but only because I asked for a ride. He wants his ship and Chubo and Nix. I want the women." She also thought she'd find peacekeepers there who would help.

"And you really think he's going to drop you off, kiss you a chaste goodbye, and let you wonder off alone into a rich man's playground looking like you do and with those silly dots glued to your face."

Wynne felt the 'dots'. She'd forgotten they were there. "I won't be alone. I'll have Mohawk with me. With all that wealth walking around, there are bound to be peacekeepers, right? I'll explain it to them."

Ish tugged on Wynne's sleeve to steer her down another alley. How Ish knew one alley from the next was a mystery. They all looked the same to Wynne and none of them were marked. Twice, she thought they passed the same building they'd passed a few minutes before.

"Which peacekeepers are those? The honest ones who'll be more interested in finding the criminal Tor and his crew, or the ones like Yatos who get paid to protect men like Honarie? No, you stupid woman, we're going to Imperial City to get your Brides and probably get ourselves killed doing it."

"Why didn't he tell me? Last night when we made..." She was grateful for the shawl that hid her blush. "He made it seem like we were saying goodbye."

"Was that enough to keep for your memories, Kushma?" Tor had asked when they were finally too spent to move. She thought he'd meant it would be the last time.

"For a lifetime," she'd answered and saved her tears until she heard the steady breathing of his sleep.

Ish interrupted her thoughts of Tor and their lack of a future.

"Tor never said we wouldn't do it. He only said it wasn't in the plan, the current plan. If he wasn't going to do it, you and Mohawk would be on the space station shuttle no matter how much you whined."

"I don't whine," Wynne objected. That was one weakness she wouldn't own.

"No, you wiggle your tits and ass."

The use of the same words as her sister made Wynne laugh. "Jealous?" she asked in the same way she would have answered Mira. Remembering Ish's marital problem, she immediately regretted it.

"Yes," Ish admitted. "But not of your tits or ass."

"I'm sorry, Ish."

"There you go being weak again. Where's that knife Mohawk gave you?"

For the rest of their journey through the back streets of Celos, Ish talked about the value of the knives and how to use them.

When they finally wove their way through Till's debris field and reached their destination, they were met by Truca, climbing from an opening at the top of the giant ship.

"The loading bay ramps are still buried. You'll have to enter up here."

'Up here' was at least fifty feet off the ground, probably more once the ship was completely unearthed. Shaped like a monstrously deformed bird, the body was feathered with mismatched metal in varying shades that only looked black from a distance. At the head of the thick and slightly arched neck was the head though a wide, flat surface replaced the forehead, eyes, and beak. Two stubby wings holding what Wynne thought might be barrel shaped engines stuck out from the fat, misshapen body. The tail of the bird looked like a stunted growth jutting out from behind the wings.

Wynne was no expert in space travel, but compared to the few sleekly designed ships she'd seen, Truca's description of this one was apt. Even with her inexperienced eye she could see this beast was a piece of flying shit.

The young woman didn't wait for them to come up, however. She slid down the bulging hump at the center of the body and then used a set of ladder-like rungs to descend the rest of the way to the ground.

"You're going to like her," she told Ish, having obviously changed her opinion, and then her eyes lit like a child seeing Santa. "Tor!" she shouted and ran past the two women without stopping.

Tor had to drop what he was carrying in order to catch her when she leapt into his arms.

"I take it back. You were right. She's a beauty," she cried to her hero of the moment.

"Glad you approve." He laughed and set her down. "Grab one of these packs, would you?"

Wynne got a nod and a smile as a hello, but she was satisfied with that. Seeing Truca's excitement as she chattered happily about what she'd found, was greeting enough. The girl spoke so rapidly, it was hard for the translator to keep up, but Wynne caught a few words like thrusters, and convertors, and power mags. She had no idea what those things were, but from Truca's enthusiasm, Wynne gathered the monster could fly.

That was a comfort until Truca added, "Of course, we won't really know until we blow the sand out of her tubes. Come on, let me show you our new home."

Home was another word Wynne wouldn't use to describe the belly of the beastly bird. After a quick tour which involved a lot a rising and falling metal stairways, vast caverns for cargo, and cabins, Wynne knew where her contribution lay. The others all set to work making sure everything necessary for takeoff and landing worked. Her job would be to turn the living quarters into something beyond a health hazard and possible breeding ground for some alien plague.

She knew nothing about feedback generators, ionic stabilizers or fusion reactors, but she knew a dirty kitchen when she saw one. Most of the supplies Mohawk and Tor carried were freeze dried and meant to be reconstituted, so there had to be water somewhere. When she asked, Posy grinned.

"We have a full load. I borrowed Till's tanker. He can add it to the bill."

"After we deduct my labor in repairing the rear lifter," Truca added. Her face was pale and her eyes were ringed with dark circles of exhaustion. Her hair was a rat's nest. Her hands and fingers were nicked and scratched. Her broken nails were black with grease and grime. Her smile said she was in heaven.

"And the children?" Wynne asked.

"Till's woman picked them up a while ago. She wasn't too happy about Till and her brother sleeping on the job. You know, because they've always been such conscientious fathers." He grinned maliciously. "Those two will be waking with headaches from more than the drink. That woman has an arm on her. You didn't miss much. The little one is a biter and his sister has a face to match her father's. Mean. She kicked me when I wouldn't let her look under my robe."

Wynne laughed at that, not because the child kicked him, but because she too had wondered what Posy wore beneath his robes. "Scotsmen have the same problem." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and the giant laughed.

The ship was huge, well over two hundred feet in length, but the layout wasn't nearly as complicated as Wynne at first thought. The flat-faced head was the cockpit behind which was an open space Posy called the Con. From the Con, two sets of stairs ran up and down to the upper and lower decks. On either deck, one could walk from one end of the ship to the other, the upper led though a finished hallway lined with cabins large enough to offer privacy and not much more. The last two of these cabins were larger, containing double beds and additional furniture, all of which were built in and strictly utilitarian. Beyond them was a large common area with dining table and the fully equipped kitchen which Posy explained was normally reserved for officers. There were other rooms behind those. Side stairwells made access between decks convenient no matter where you were on the ship.

The lower deck was traversed over a series of catwalks through cargo space, dormitory style rooms with a common area between them, another kitchen for the crew, more cargo space big enough to hold three or four hopper sized ships, and ending in a passage that led to the engine rooms.