Gypsy Moth

Chapter 10

Her husband arrived wearing a thunderous expression. Perched on a stool that could swivel, she quickly turned her back and pretended she never saw him. A coy game, but one she'd learned along with how to manage credits, a household, and more. Papa made sure all his daughters received a thorough education.

She faked a smile for the man talking at her. Not to her. He was much too self-involved for that.

He - Lieutenant Gower something or other - finally paused talking about his greatness when her husband growled, "Move away from my wife."

"Wife?" the man squeaked - apparently a trait among the crew - and fled.

"Well, that was rude," she remarked, taking a sip from the concoction someone had labeled a drink. More like the fluid used to strip the color from her nails when she tired of it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He bore a scowl that didn't detract from his handsomeness at all.

"I am having a beverage. Care to join me?" She indicated the now vacant seat.

"No. You shouldn't be here."

Here being the hidden heart of the ship, known as Nexus by the crew, where the fun things occurred, such as needling her new husband. "I'm sorry, was I supposed to remain in our quarters? Perhaps waiting on my knees with your slippers in hand? Or am I simply not allowed to speak to anyone?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, husband? Because it sounded as if you were forbidding me from socializing."

"Socialize, yes, but you can't flirt with other men."

Her brow arched as he inadvertently admitted his jealousy. "I didn't realize conversation was considered flirting now."

"It's not usually, however, Goweranski is a womanizer."

"The lieutenant was wasting his time then. I am a married woman."

"Which he obviously didn't realize." Damon scrubbed a hand through his hair. "We're going to have to find a way to make it understood you're off-limits."

"You wish to mark me unavailable? I guess we could tattoo my face. Perhaps invest in a flashing sign that I can carry about stating your ownership." She knew she teased, and yet she couldn't help it. This jealous side of him fascinated and excited.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a ring."

"A ring?" She looked at her bare fingers. "But that's so archaic." The use of rings had been a ritual employed by humans centuries ago and had long since been abandoned for other more permanent methods.

"I'm an old-fashioned guy."

"So I'm discovering. And will you also be wearing a ring to state your status?"

"You already marked me."

But not anywhere visible. Which meant the women ogling him across the room didn't yet realize he was unavailable. She placed her hand on his arm. "I hear we'll be making port shortly."

"Don't get too excited. We won't be there long."

"Are we docking for business?" she asked.

"Of a sort. I don't know the details, and even if I did, I couldn't tell you."

"Understandable. Still, it will be enjoyable to visit."

"No visiting for you. I'll have to go with the captain, which means you'll have to remain on board."

A frown creased her brow. "Am I not allowed off the ship without you as a chaperone?"

"Usually, yes, but you can't in this place. La'zuun is dangerous for women."

"You are not allowing any females to disembark?"

Judging by the tightness of his jaw, only she was forbidden. "Only you, because you're different."

"How am I different?" She leaned forward, drawn to this man. Fascinated by the way he treated her, one moment acting as if he didn't want anything to do with her, the next possessive. So very, very possessive.

"We don't yet know for sure if the Kanishqui commander has given up on you."

He'd be foolish to continue trying. She'd made her choice, and even if the commander killed Damon, as a widow, she'd have more choice in her next husband. "Surely he didn't follow us." They'd streaked a number of times, enough to lose him.

"We've seen no signs of pursuit, but we can't know if there are others who will be tempted by your wealth."

She waved a hand, dismissing his concern. "My marriage to you has made my abduction worthless. My only merit was in my ability to wed and confer my wealth and status. If anyone is in danger, it's you. Perhaps you should be locked away. For your protection of course," she teased.

"I don't need protection."

"Are you sure of that?" She stepped off the stool and stood close to him, so close her body couldn't help but heat, remembering his touch. The pleasure she'd felt at his hands and tongue were something she craved more of.

His arm curled around her waist and drew her near, pulling her up on tiptoe. "Do you need a lesson in my virility?"

He flirted with her, and she couldn't help but smile. "Perhaps I do. Should we adjourn to our quarters that you might best instruct me?"

"Let's go."

He led her from the gathering place, his arm around her waist tantalizing her. Every so often they'd have to pause at a busy intersection, and he'd draw her close, tucking her into his warmth, not saying anything, to her at least. He briefly acknowledged the crew they encountered, his words to them short, almost terse. Dare she say, impatient.

Finally, they reached his room and its privacy. The door no sooner closed than she was pushed against it, his mouth finding hers for fervent embrace. They only managed that single passionate kiss before the ship announced the crew needed to get ready for docking.

"f**k me," he groaned, leaning his forehead against hers.

She could understand his disappointment, especially since his departure left her aching.

But he wouldn't be gone forever. Damon had said it himself. They would only be at this planet for a short while. She just had to show patience. Await his return. Simple enough.

She spent the first few minutes tidying their room. Recycling garments. Spreading the blanket on the bed. Pacing. Lying on the bed.

How much longer? A glance at the time showed they'd barely just arrived.

Sigh.

Michi meant to behave and do as Damon asked. Defying his orders wouldn't bring them closer, and he was right. There was still a possible danger to her. Not many would yet know of her marriage.

Yet, all her good intentions went out the door when the communicator in the room chimed with a message for Michonne from the planet. A message she couldn't ignore.

*

"Nice place," Damon murmured to the captain as they disembarked from the ship.

Unlike previous versions of the pleasure resort, La'zuun was truly a paradise. Long gone were the days when the vice lords ran their operation on a barren asteroid. Only the most long-lived remembered the Maestro A'Diabbloh who ran his operation with decadence and mind control until the day a Rhomanii prince destroyed it.

Nowadays Madame Papyon played hostess to those who visited the vice planet. She even greeted them personally, the four breasts of her voluptuous upper body hugged by the finest silks. Her serpentine tresses, a bright shade of green, were lively and snapped at any that came too close. The hem of her gown undulated as her sinuous lower body moved along the smooth polished floors of the arrival building. The spaceport was gigantic - white stone and glass and technology. It had to be high tech to handle all the various ships that came to play.

"Kobrah, darling," Madame Papyon gushed. "It's been agessss." She rolled her S's, the hiss of them flicking off her forked tongue while her two slitted yellow eyes regarded the captain with avarice.

"You are looking as delicious as ever," the captain remarked, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. A modification she'd had done, given her kind lacked true appendages.

An artificial pinkness flushed her gray/green skin. "Such a flirt. To what do I owe this pleasssure?"

"Can't a man stop in to see a friend? I was passing by and thought we could share a drink."

"What a sssplendid idea."

Could anyone else read the falseness in their conversation? Damon knew for a fact the captain didn't like or trust Madame Papyon at all. Just like he knew they'd gone out of their way to come here. What game did his captain play?

Whatever it was, Captain Jameson shot a look back at Damon and said, "Make sure the crates I ordered are delivered. Then take a few minutes for yourself. Check out the market. See if something catches your eye for the new wife."

In other words, make himself scarce and keep an eye open. What did Jameson think he'd find? The man held his secrets close to his chest. Always had. But Damon knew enough to realize they were here for a reason. Was that reason the twelve crates delivered to the Moth? Sealed tight and without any kind of shipping label, anything could have been inside. Although, judging by the fact Crank stirred himself from engineering to oversee their delivery, he'd bet it had something to do with the ship's engines and power cells.

"Is this going to fix our secondary power source?" he asked as Crank spent a moment by each crate staring at them.

"Yep."

"Why didn't the captain tell us we were stopping to grab supplies for you?" Why the big mystery?

"This isn't the reason why we stopped. Simply a bonus," Crank noted. "Now if we're done wasting time yapping, I've got work to do." The implication being unlike some.

"Have fun unpacking. I'm going to check on the crew."

While overseeing the delivery, Damon had made sure the crewmembers chosen by lottery to disembark were reminded not to miss their departure time. The captain had been adamant on that point, which meant they'd probably be leaving hot.

The last group had departed, leaving the vessel with a skeleton crew of about fifty. A ship their size could carry several hundred. A small mobile town with people serving all kinds of roles because flying the Moth was only part of it.

With his task complete, he had two choices, wander the planet, perhaps pick up some intelligence or goods.

Or...

He eyed the ship with its glossy gray exterior. Inside was his wife. A wife who waited on him.

A wife he'd much rather see than a raucous marketplace.