Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [92]
Her breath blew warm and strong on his face as she administered fresh adhesive to the artificial skin. ‘Does the scar hurt?’
Thales couldn’t stop trembling. She was so close now.
Bethany had never made him feel this way, and Aleta had been intoxicating but professionally aloof. And Rene ... he had trouble picturing his wife’s face with Fariss’s mouth so close to his.
On impulse he lifted his lips and pressed them to hers. The brief taste of her was breathtaking.
Then she hit him. Not a gentle slap, but a full-fisted punch to the jaw that laid him on the floor, stunned. He cupped his hands to his face in silent agony.
‘See this is gonna be a fun trip,’ said a strange voice.
Thales dashed the tears of pain and shock away and stared up. The ‘esque who had joined them in the cabin was thick-shouldered, with a face which bore more scars than not. His eyes lay sunken under heavy lids, and he brought in with him the smell of unwashed flesh.
Fariss sprawled lengthways on the bed, hands behind her head. ‘Sure it’ll be,’ she said casually, ‘long as no one messes with what’s mine. Fariss O’Dea. Can’t say I’ve seen you before.’
‘Macken. Fought with Lasper in the War. Commander asked special for me on this trip. Just got in from Mintaka to catch this ship back to Intel.’
‘Long way around,’ said Fariss thoughtfully. ‘Why couldn’t you just meet us there?’
Macken’s chest swelled a bit. ‘Commander wanted me on board. Keep an eye on things.’ He gave Fariss a hard, pointed look. ‘Guess he knows he can trust me.’
‘Everyone needs someone they can trust, Macken. But if you’re bunkin’ down with me you need to wash.’
Thales flinched, expecting the man to react angrily to the insult, but just like the mercenary Rast Randall would have done, he laughed. ‘You jus’ keep your ruttin’ quiet, Fariss O’Dea. I need my beauty sleep.’ He glanced down at Thales. ‘Pretty one you got there. You wanna watch his tail.’
Fariss stuck out her jaw in a way that made her wide, generous face ugly. She swung her feet onto the floor and stood up, towering over Macken.
The war vet stood his ground, but like the check-in guard he mollified his tone. ‘Jus’ makin’ an observation. No need ta get shirty.’
Fariss’s lips eased into a smile. She held out her hand to shake Macken’s. ‘Welcome aboard.’
TEKTON
Tekton struggled with claustrophobia. Even his logic-mind had difficulty convincing him that he was perfectly safe crushed inside Samuelle’s spare nano-suit. Since Lasper Farr’s devious attempt to see him dead, and his subsequent rescue by Jelly Hob, Tekton’s amygdala seemed to have overpowered his ability to think coherently. Sole had not factored the effect of sheer, animal terror into his mind division.
The problem was his head. It was squeezed uncomfortably into the neck section, which had then sealed itself shut. Though the suit’s porous design allowed him to breathe perfectly normally, he could not shake the notion that he was in a burial wrap.
‘Whatcha got in this one, Sammy? Dead body?’ growled a surly voice. ‘Commander’s put limits on carry-on weight.’
‘Quit whining, boy,’ Samuelle replied. ‘A woman’s gotta have her extras for a long trip. Stashed me a bit of entertainment in there.’
‘What? Booty?’ The voice sounded surprised now.
Samuelle cackled. ‘Do you know how old I am, soldier? Haven’t used booty since I was a hundred and three, even then, it was in virt. Prefer the odd substance relaxation meself. But you wouldn’t be telling anyone that, would you? Lest you be wanting a little free taste of Samuelle’s candy.’
The ‘esque paused. ‘Take it to your cabin then, shall I, Sam?’
‘Good lad,’ said Samuelle. ‘Good lad.’
Tekton endured the rough handling, disgusting grunts and loud profanity from the soldier who lugged him through the ship’s corridors. But when, finally, he was dumped on a flat surface and left alone, Tekton became teary. Every muscle felt bruised and he fretted that