Bringing Stella Home (19 page)

“
Thanks,” said
James.

The old man smiled warmly as they
shook hands, reminding James of his grandfather. Of all the men and
women in the room, he was definitely the shortest, as well as the
oldest.

“
These are my officers,”
said Danica. “Besides them, we have two squads of twelve soldiers
each. You’ll meet Sergeants Romanov and Sanders later, but I’d
advise against mingling too much with the grunts. Quarters are
tight, so you’ll probably have to bunk in an empty storage
room.”

James nodded. He wasn’t expecting much
more than that anyway.

“
As for myself,” she
continued, “I am Danica Nova, captain of this ship and commander of
this outfit. So long as you are on this ship, I am God. I speak,
and the
Tajji Flame
obeys my voice. I give an order, and the crew hits the deck.
The food you eat and the air you breathe are a blessing from my
hands. Nothing happens on this ship without my approval, and I
answer to no one. Do you understand?”

“
Uh, yeah, I
guess—”

“
I asked you a yes or no
question, boy. Do you understand?”

“
Yes,” James said
tentatively.

“
Good,” said Danica. “We
don’t make a big deal out of rank in this outfit, but that doesn’t
mean we don’t have a clear line of authority. My second in command
is Sergeant Krikoryan. The other officers have authority in their
various areas of expertise: Sikorsky as pilot and astrogator,
Nicholson as drone pilot, Konstantin as chief engineer, etc. For
the duration of this mission, your rank will be ‘ensign.’ You will
serve in an advisory role vis-a-vis the mission, but you will not
have any command authority whatsoever. I am the commanding officer
here, and you will follow my orders, even if they go against your
judgment. Do you understand?”

“
Um, I—”

“
Yes or no. Do you
understand, boy?”

James swallowed. “Yes,
Captain.”

“
Good. Now, unless you have
business here, we will depart for Karduna immediately.”

“
Great! I’ll get to my
ship—”

“
That won’t be necessary,
Ensign. Roman will pilot the
Catriona
to our rendezvous
point.”

James’s face fell. “What?
Why?”

“
Frankly, we don’t know if
we can trust you.”

“
But—but it’s my
ship!”

Danica glared at him. “You
orders, Ensign, are to remain on the bridge of the
Tajji Flame
while we make
the jump. Is that clear?”

James hesitated. Was it too late to
pull out of this deal? Maybe he should reconsider—

No,
he told himself.
I’m not going to
back down.

“
Yes, Captain,” he
said.

“
Good.” Danica turned to
face her men. “Roman, get to the
Catriona
and fly her out. We’ll flash
you the jump coordinates in the next ten minutes.”

“
Yes, Captain,” said Roman.
He rose to his feet and walked briskly out the door.

“
Sikorsky, set up a
rendezvous point outside of the system. I want something in
proximity to the orbital plane that is far enough out of it not to
attract attention.”

“
I’m on it.”

“
Excellent. Everyone else,
you are dismissed.”

The other officers crowded past James
as they left the bridge. Most glanced his way or nodded in his
direction, but James bit his lip and avoided them. Everything was
happening too fast for him.

“
Have a seat, Ensign,” said
Danica. She pointed to the chair next to Anya. James hesitated for
a moment, then sat down.

Anya glanced up from her
work and smiled at him. “Welcome to the
Tajji Flame.
”

James smiled weakly.
What have I gotten into?

Chapter 9

Stella nervously followed Engus down
the hallway in her thin, two-piece bedlah gown. Long strings of
coins dangled from her hip, jingling as she walked. Her clothes
were not unlike the bead curtain doors in the concubines’
quarters—pretty, a bit exotic, and far too sensual.

Engus turned and clucked at her. “No
good, no good,” he hissed. “You come now!”

“
I’m coming,” she said,
walking a little faster—but not too fast. The dread in her heart
grew with every step.

Engus came to a turn and pointed to
the end of the corridor. “That door,” he said. “You go. Qasar
there.”

Stella swallowed and stood as if
rooted to the spot. Engus shoved her forward, almost pushing her
over. She caught herself and started walking, the coins swaying
against her bare thighs.

What am I doing?
she thought desperately to herself.
The man behind that door is going to rape
me!

She swallowed and keyed the door
chime, the coins in her dress jingling ever so softly. A moment
later, the door hissed open, making her jump. She hesitated for a
moment, her heart racing in her chest, then stepped inside. The
door hissed shut behind her.

The room was very dark, lit only by a
handful of mellow glowlamps midway up the walls. As her eyes
adjusted to the dim light, she found herself staring at an
impressive array of lavish decorations. Crimson silks cascaded down
the walls, shimmering like velvet. A vaulted, navy blue ceiling
rose high above her head, with hundreds of white, four-pointed
stars forming unfamiliar constellations. A pair of curved swords
hung directly in front of her, their ornate golden scabbards
studded with dozens of colorful jewels. Between the crossed swords
hung a ball of meteoric slag, black and pitted. Stella didn’t know
what it was doing there, but judging from the rest of the décor, it
had to be important.

The bed lay directly beneath the
swords. A man in white, gilded robes lay on his side across the
bedspread, smiling as he stared at her.

Instantly, Stella froze. The man could
only be Qasar.

He was not a small man—not by any
stretch. His shoulders were broad, his arms strong and muscular,
his legs thick and supple. His hair was as black as midnight, with
a neatly trimmed beard that stretched from ear to ear. His eyes
were dazzlingly blue, like sapphire nebulae. Her eyes wandered to
his robe, and she saw that his chest was covered with hair. She
drew in a sharp breath and trembled as she imagined his scratchy
hair on her bare skin, the full weight of his body thrust against
hers. The thought made the sweat on the back of her neck go
cold.

Qasar stared at her,
unmoving. Stella shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, not
sure what to do.
You only have one first
impression
, Stella heard Tamu say in her
head.
If Quasar isn’t pleased—

With perfect ease, Master Qasar
slipped his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to his feet.
Carrying himself with a strong yet subtle aura of authority, he
came forward and studied her. Stella flinched as memories of the
sorting in the prisoner ship flooded to her mind. Qasar didn’t prod
her, however—he merely admired her, as if she were an elegant
statue. Careful not to meet his gaze, she stood still and stared
straight ahead, toes turned in slightly, arms hanging awkwardly by
her side.

“
Very good,” Qasar muttered
to himself in the Hameji creole. “A little young, but quite
beautiful. You have good taste, Tagatai, my cousin.”

Qasar’s voice was so clear that Stella
had little difficulty understanding his words. She decided to speak
up.

“
I am seventeen standard
years old,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her
eye.

“
Ahh!” said Qasar,
pleasantly surprised. “So you can speak as well. Very
good.”

“
Thank you, M-Master,” she
said. She felt dirty using that title, but she didn’t know how else
to address him.

“
Very good. And what is
your name?”

“
My name is Ste—is
Sholpan,” she said, catching herself. The foreignness of her new
name made her cringe.

“
Sholpan,” muttered Qasar,
nodding to himself. “So that’s what they named you. Fitting
choice—you do seem rather shy.”

He reached up and gently stroked her
cheek with one hand. Stella’s body tensed as his fingers slowly
traced their way down to her neck and shoulders. He played with the
narrow strap holding up her top, then ran his hand between her
breasts. She shivered.

“
Quite fitting,” he
muttered, smiling at her with his penetrating blue eyes. He took
her by the wrist and motioned to the bed. “Come.”

In one smooth motion, he pulled the
scarlet bedspread aside. Underneath, the sheets were immaculately
white, as if they’d never been slept in before.

Qasar turned to her. “Are you hungry,
my goddess?” he asked.

By the stars,
yes.

“
A little,” she
answered.

He nodded. Letting go of her wrist, he
clapped his hands twice. From somewhere in the wall, a tray came
forward, suspended in midair by independent gravitics. Stella’s
eyes widened—she’d heard about advanced microgravity technology,
but had never seen it with her own eyes. It wasn’t
cheap.

The tray came to a stop in front of
Qasar. He lifted a gilded silver cover to reveal a platter of
golden-brown sweetmeats, smothered in rich brown sauce. A delicious
aroma met Stella’s nose, and she found herself swimming in
it.

“
Care for some?” he
asked.

“
Y-yes,” she stammered. Her
stomach rumbled in eager anticipation.

Qasar smiled. With a flick of his
wrist, he pushed the tray over the bed, where it levitated just
inches over the spotlessly white sheets.

“
You must be uncomfortable
in that,” he said, glancing down at her skimpy bedlah gown. “Let me
get it for you.”

He reached his hands toward the clasp
at her waist. Without thinking, she grabbed him by the wrists to
stop. They both froze, while a chill shot down Stella’s back; Qasar
did not seem pleased.

Let him have his way,
honey, just don’t give in to him at first.
She smiled in a way that she hoped he’d find seductive and
carefully maneuvered his hands away from her. “Later,” she said,
unclasping the outer layer of her dress and slipping out of it. She
wore nothing but a short underskirt beneath it, but at least that
was something.

Qasar chuckled. “Then come,” he said.
“Let us eat.”

They climbed onto the bed and lay
facing each other in the center, the tray of delicious food
hovering directly between them. Stella tried not to stare, but
Qasar’s eyes never left her. From the expression on his face, she
could tell he was undressing her in his mind. Even so, the plate of
sweetmeats, combined with her own ravished hunger, soon distracted
her.

“
Is that—real food?” she
asked, eying the platter.

Qasar cocked his head at her, then
threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“
Real food?” he said. “Of
course! Do you think I am so poor that I starve?”

Stella smiled uneasily, unsure of what
to say or do. Poor or not, all her meals so far on his ship had
been bland and synthetic.

“
But if you will not
believe—come! Eat!” He picked up a piece of meat from the platter
and held it out to her. Stella’s stomach growled as she reached
forward, but he withdrew the food before she could take
it.

“
No, no,” he said, shaking
his head and grinning at her. “Your fingers should not get sticky,
my dear.” He held the morsel out again, as if to hand-feed her.
“Eat!”

Something about the way he insisted on
hand-feeding her seemed deeply sensual, and more than a little
disturbing. Stella hesitated, but the thick, mouth-watering aroma
of the sweetmeats soon won her over. Leaning forward, she opened
her mouth and let him place the food between her teeth.

It
was
meat—honest to goodness,
animal-grown meat—springy and fleshy and cooked to perfection.
Without a doubt, it was the most delicious food she’d eaten since
her capture. She closed her eyes and chewed it slowly, savoring the
juices as they stimulated her tastebuds. For the long, wonderful
moment before she swallowed, she was in heaven.

Qasar’s eyes did not leave her as she
chewed.

“
Well,” he said, “do you
like it?”

“
Stars, yes,” Stella
answered. She leaned forward and reached eagerly for
more.

“
No, no, my dear,” said
Qasar, chuckling as he pulled the platter away. “Your fingers must
not be soiled.”

Stella’s heart fell.
This is degrading,
she
realized. Still, food was food, and she was desperately
hungry.

“
That’s right,” said Qasar
as she leaned forward and opened her mouth. “Have another.” He
placed another of the tender morsels between her teeth. It seemed
almost to melt in her mouth, it was so delicious.