Morgan's Return (46 page)

"Handed over? Now wait a minute." Nobody was going to hand her over like some sort of sacrificial lamb.

Ravindra squeezed her. "It’s our tradition. It will be expected."

She glared up at him. They'd see about that.

"It’s a political event, Morgan," Makasa said. "It’s important to follow the diplomatic niceties, if only for a few hours."

"I'll think about it. I have to go. I’m late for a meeting." She extracted herself from Ravindra’s arm.

"Tell them I kept you," he said.

"I will." She walked out into the corridor. Married. She was going to get married. To an admiral. And damn it, a very large slice of her was pleased. How things change.

***

R
avindra waited until the door closed behind Morgan, and then a few moments more. "Thank you. I am indebted."

"I would still prefer to take her back to the Coalition. But… if she stays, then you’re a good match for her." Makasa swirled the brandy in the glass, then drained the liquid in a gulp. "There is a certain irony in her marrying an admiral. I find it amusing."

"Did she really suggest herself as my marriage partner?"

"She did. You must have done an excellent job. She was steaming when she came in here."

"Diplomacy is not her strong suit." Ravindra found a second glass, splashed in a shot of brandy for himself, and refilled Makasa's.

Morgan joined them for dinner in Ravindra's quarters, the officer's mess having been deemed inappropriate for a man of Makasa's girth. The fat admiral enjoyed himself, entertaining them, and Captain Smith, the most senior man on his entourage, with stories from the Coalition. Ravindra made a few remarks of his own but largely listened. Yes, Morgan was right. Intelligent, charming, and devious. A dangerous man.

Morgan seemed introspective, joining in Makasa's stories every now and then. Once or twice he noticed her eyeing him. He winked at her, and she giggled.

As soon as the two human officers had gone Ravindra unfastened the high collar of his dress uniform. Morgan, sitting on the sofa, slid her tongue over her lips. She looked delectable in a silvery-blue dress that enhanced the color of her eyes and skin. He couldn't wait to peel it off her, slowly, kissing every inch of the way. His pants felt too tight.

"Bed time?" he asked.

She raised a finger. "Just one thing."

Here it comes
. "Yes?"

"Have I been, ah, set up?" She smiled sweetly, Morgan at her most difficult.

He sat down on the sofa next to her. "Yes."

She rested her chin on her fist. "So there was no intention that you marry one of these women?"

"Oh, no. That was entirely on the agenda, and the original intention. I baulked at the suggestion, and argued my case to the High Command. They agreed you were a much more suitable consort." Agreed was probably not quite the right word. They hadn't been happy, not at all. But then, they hadn't been happy about the presidential directive telling them that he, Ravindra, must marry a human woman.

"Your promotion will still happen?"

"Yes." He'd received human support on that one, from Makasa himself. And, truth to tell, a number of the more progressive of his peers.

"Humph. You could have talked to me."

"I've tried, but you weren't listening, my love. We just showed you the situation from another point of view. And your brain went along with it. You offered yourself."

Morgan glowered in a half-hearted sort of way. "I don't like the sound of this ceremony. Being handed over like a trophy."

Ravindra laughed. "You are a trophy. To me." He slid an arm around her and pulled her in against him. Her warm, female scent filled his nostrils. "Think of it as a drill, an act, a show. For the
Darya
families here, and for the humans who will see the performance."

She huffed a sigh. "At least you had the sense to tell me."

He brushed her lips with his. "I'm not stupid."

"No." Her fingers stroked the side of his face. "Let's go to bed and consummate our new relationship."

He stood, pulling her with him. "What a good idea."

The End

About the Author

Greta van der Rol loves writing science fiction with a large dollop of good old, healthy romance. She lives not far from the coast in Queensland, Australia and enjoys photography and cooking when she isn't bent over the computer. She has a degree in history and a background in building information systems, both of which go a long way toward helping her in her writing endeavours. Find out more about Greta and her books at
http://www.gretavanderrol.net

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THE IRON ADMIRAL: DECEPTION

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(CONSPIRACY and DECEPTION in one huge volume)

STARHEART

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available at Amazon and other online retailers

turn the page for a taste of another Greta van der Rol space adventure…

STARHEART

She's lost her husband, her best friend is missing. What else has she got to lose?

Slightly shady freighter captain Jess Sondijk thought she had her life under control until Admiral Hudson's Confederacy battle cruiser stops her ship to search for contraband. His questions reopen matters she had thought resolved. What if her husband's death on his way back from Tabora wasn't accidental? Jess decides to investigate, while keeping Hudson at arms' length.

While he's attracted to the lovely Jess, Hudson is also concerned about what might be happening on Tabora and how that may involve the Confederacy's enemies.

Jess and Hudson's interests collide in more ways than one. But while Jess is more than willing to put her life on the line to protect what's hers, Hudson must balance the risk of inter-species war at worst and the end of his career at best, in a deadly game of political intrigue, murder and greed. At the end of the day, how much is he willing to lose for the woman he has come to love?

Starheart –
Chapter One

"W
e're gonna get boarded, Jess." Santh glanced up from his console, where Confederacy Battle Cruiser
Defender
, sleek, dark and weapons hot, dominated the display. Jess read the 'oh shit' in her first officer's eyes.

"Santh, we're chugging along on our way to the space station, minding our own business. It's got to be routine. Let me do the talking."

But even so, her heart hammered. She'd been boarded before, by teams from Nordheim Militia's patrol frigates, but this was the first time she'd ever seen a battle cruiser in this part of the Confederacy.

"Saintly Maid
this is Confederacy Battle Cruiser Defender. You will shut down all drives and prepare to be boarded. If you fail to comply you will be attacked." A crisp military voice barked instructions, sharp and to the point, no visuals
.

"Saintly Maid
to Confederacy Battle Cruiser Defender. Message received and understood. Welcome aboard
."

If they brought InfoDroids with them and they searched thoroughly… She pushed the thought away.

"Shut us down, Santh. I'll pop off and fix my makeup. Might as well look the part."

Jess headed out of the bridge, through the freighter's common room and into her own quarters. Let's see now, what did she have suitable for a military boarding party? She rummaged through her wardrobe and selected the dark green uniform. The pants accentuated her long legs and if she left the jacket unbuttoned over a white shirt, she'd give them something else to think about other than the cargo. She pulled out the clasp holding her hair back and let the blonde mane hang around her shoulders. A little bit of makeup, but not too much, and she was ready.

"Just in time," Santh said as she slid back into the captain's chair. "Their cutter has attached to our airlock."

The airlock status gauge flashed orange. Airing up prior to release. The numbers rose… seventy, eighty, ninety. The gauge glowed green. Jess pressed the hatch release. The boarding party appeared in her view screen, eight people, suited up in black, helmets on. The spheroid shape of an InfoDroid drifting beside them sent a shiver down her spine. Even her security couldn't beat one of those. Still, even an InfoDroid would need to scan the right place and they hadn't the other times. She crossed mental fingers and hoped her luck hadn't changed.

Three of the boarding party, InfoDroid in tow, clumped off to search the cargo hold. Two started searching the common room, and the other three… She rose to greet the trooper who stepped onto the bridge. The other two, both armed with laser rifles, stood outside.

The leader took off his helmet, revealing an attractive young man staring at her with unabashed admiration. "Er… ma'am… Are you Captain Jestinia Sondijk?"

Jess smiled. "Correct, Lieutenant…" She checked his name patch, "…Douglas. And this is First Officer Santhias Dekstra."

Douglas cleared his throat and stiffened into a more military posture.

"You and your first officer are to be transferred to
Defender
for interrogation, ma'am, while the boarding party makes a thorough search of your ship."

Her nerves twanged. "Oh? Is there some sort of problem, Lieutenant? We're on our way to the space station to dock. I wouldn't want to miss my arrival slot."

"Those are my orders."

"We'll comply, of course. Please," she thrust out a hand. "Lead on."

She followed the officer through to the airlock off the hold and into the cutter, Santh at her heels. This was unexpected. And scary. Usually they searched the ship, looked at the trade manifestos and left empty-handed. She exchanged a look with Santh. He'd know enough to keep his mouth shut. If this trip was intended to unsettle them the move had worked. The butterflies in her stomach were performing a salsa.

The warship's side loomed like an apartment block with a few lighted windows. The cutter aimed for the window with the flashing light and slid into the vessel's interior. A few minutes for the airlock to air up and they were out. Jess sniffed the air. Not even a hint of mustiness or cooking. Their filters were obviously better than
Saintly Maid
's.

Jess and Santh walked together, the troopers behind them, while Lieutenant Douglas led the way to a transit foyer, where he pressed a button to summon a car.

Jess stared around her at clean grey walls and floors, and a row of no less than ten lifts. Strewth. The buttons went up to thirty. Thirty levels. This ship was huge. A group of people appeared from a doorway, also heading for the transit foyer. Three senior officers. She fixed her 'not sure why this is happening but I'm being co-operative' expression on her face as they approached.

Well, well, well. The captain, a senior commander and a rather dishy admiral. Tall, thick brown hair, heavy eyebrows over blue eyes that right now were shifting his gaze over her body and most especially down the carefully-judged split at the front of her shirt. She smiled at him, taking care to adjust her hair while she did so. Now what would a Star Fleet admiral be doing at Nordheim?

Beside her, Lieutenant Douglas and the two escorts stiffened to parade ground attention.

The admiral stopped in front of her, still staring. "What have we here, Lieutenant?"

The look in his eye sent a sexy shimmy down her spine. No prizes for guessing what was on his mind right now. And under different circumstances, she wouldn't mind. No, not at all.

"Captain and First Officer of a suspicious ship, Sir. The
Saintly Maid
. They're here for interrogation."

Jess widened her eyes. "Suspicious ship? Oh, really, Lieutenant, you must have mistaken the
Maid
for some other vessel."

The admiral grinned. The transit car the senior commander had summoned arrived with a gentle ping. The captain and the senior commander both had their bodies pointed towards the open door but the admiral lingered, gazing down at her.

"Delightful to meet you, Captain…?"

"Sondijk .And equally delightful to meet you, Admiral…?"

"Hudson. Ullric Hudson."

She gave him a long, hard once-over, her gaze traveling slowly down his body and back up to his eyes. "Welcome to Nordheim, Admiral Hudson."