Enemy Overnight (14 page)

A chemical structure appeared on the replicator monitor, but Monica’s head blocked his view.

“This vessel was designed to deliver one hundred twenty metered sprays, each containing hundred milligrams of aqueous suspension,” Empran reported. “It is fabricated from a toxic polymer that that may not be replicated. However, I can produce an identical vessel in an approved non-toxic polymer.”

“Wow. Okay, great. Is there enough of the suspension for you to replicate it?”

“Affirmative.”

“Awesome. Do your thing, then.”

“Commencing replication.”

Monica leaned back in her seat and put her hands behind her head. “You know, Empran, if you were this helpful all the time, I might actually start to like you.”

“Be still my hard drive.”

She straightened comically and it was all Tiber could do not to laugh out loud. “Excuse me?”

“Be still my hard drive,” Empran repeated mechanically.

“Okay, where the hell did that come from? I mean, I talk to you like you’re a bitch, but you’re just a machine—aren’t you? You couldn’t have come up with that on your own.”

“I’m an artificial intelligence, capable of learning and applying that knowledge,” Empran replied. “Having been programmed with no logical response to your statement, I calculated the odds of your being sincere based on our past interactions and used contemporary Terran literature to formulate an appropriate reply.”

“Yeah, well, it—” Monica sounded like she was choking. “Sucked,” she finally gasped before bursting into belly laughs. “But it was pretty damn funny.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tiber decided to approach her. “What is that?”

Monica screeched and jumped. “Jesus, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m sorry. What are you replicating?” He leaned closer to the screen. The structure was somewhat familiar. “It looks like some sort of hormone.”

She stood up, blocking his view again. “That’s exactly what it is. One of the candidates needs it to regulate her cycle, but the label was unreadable and she didn’t remember the name of it. “

“Do you require any assistance?”

“Nope, I think I’m done.” The replicator doors slid up and she removed both bottles. “Yay! I was way past ready to be useful again.”

“I’m impressed with your initiative. I’d think most Terrans would be intimidated by our technology.”

“Well, I’m not exactly ready for brain surgery,” she grinned, tucking one bottle into the pocket of her lab coat and shaking the other. “On the other hand, I could program my VCR without reading the instructions, so I guess I’ve always been a technological whiz.”

She took the lid off and sprayed several squirts into the air. “Priming,” she explained, capping the bottle and dropping it into her pocket. “Well, it looks right to me. Guess she’ll let me know if I’ve screwed up.”

“I’m certain it’s fine.”

“Glad to hear it. Empran, end program.” After the screen cleared, she walked toward the door, mumbling something about observing in the infirmary. At the last second, she turned. “See you at dinner tonight?”

Tiber smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Seated at the commander’s dining table hours later, Jasmine wondered if her painful blush would ever subside. She’d had sex with Shauss in front of Tiber and Zannen, and no doubt everyone in the room knew it. If she hadn’t broken the bones in Hastion’s face, she’d have had sex in front of him too. Of course, if she hadn’t broken the bones in Hastion’s face, she might not be in this position in the first place.

She was excruciatingly conscious of Shauss’ arm draped over the back of her chair, of his fingertips skimming from her shoulder to her neck and back again in an absent but unmistakably possessive gesture.

“What would you like to drink?” the steward inquired.

It was tempting to ask for a double shot of tequila, especially with Zannen brooding at her from the end of the table. Who the heck had invited him, anyway?

Deciding it was better to keep her wits about her, she said, “Just water, please. Lots of it.”

“You look awesome,” Monica commented.

“I concur.” Tiber’s face reflected genuine appreciation. “You’re incredibly lovely, Jasmine.”

Her blush deepening, Jasmine lifted her arms, making the diaphanous sleeves of her violet-toned floral minidress shimmer. The scooped-out neckline displayed Shauss’ golden choker and way more cleavage than she was comfortable with. But at least she had on underwear—she’d appreciated the lacy black thong almost more than the dress.

“Gifts from Shauss.” Which she in no way deserved.

Monica’s brows rose as she turned to Shauss. “You had all that lying around?”

“I shop online.”

“I didn’t know UPS delivered to the stratosphere.”

“Technically, we’re—”

“Joking, Shauss, and don’t try to distract me with another astronomy lesson. So how did that stuff get here?”

“I…collected it.”

The steward deposited a glass of water in front of Jasmine and she lifted it for a long drink, wishing she’d thought to ask for ice. She expected Monica to press Shauss for more details and waited for them with interest, but instead Monica swung back toward the commander and gave him a pointed look.

He sighed. “My love, why are you giving me the hairy eyeball?”

Water gushed from Jasmine’s nose as she choked with laughter. Tiber came behind her and held her arms up high while Shauss pounded her on the back.

“Are you all right?” Shauss asked when the spasms subsided.

Jasmine nodded, swallowing for a couple of seconds as she wiped her face with her fingers. Why in the world didn’t the Garathani use napkins?

She managed to squeak “The
hairy eyeball
?” before erupting into peals of laughter again.

“He’s freakin’ adorable, isn’t he?” Monica tried to look annoyed but the love shining in her eyes spoiled the effect. “So why haven’t you
collected
anything for me?”

As servers settled three large platters of food on the table, Kellen leaned back and watched her with amused affection that sent a knife of envy straight through Jasmine’s heart. “Would you like such adornment?”

“Hell no. I wouldn’t mind having an iPod though.”

“Monica, Empran’s music files are extensive.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather hold the technology in my hot little hand. Doesn’t it worry you to rely on Empran for every little thing?”

“No more than it worries you to rely on the internet.”

“Hey, the internet can be a scary place. Lots of hackers out there.”

“I believe Empran’s security protocols are up to the task,” Kellen said dryly.

“That’s what everyone believes until someone hacks their system.”

Jasmine watched the interplay between Monica and the commander, totally blown away by how comfortable they were with each other after such a short time together.

The knife twisted in her heart. She and Shauss would never feel that kind of connection. It was stupid to have imagined for even a moment that it was possible. After today’s claiming, he’d probably figured out what a deal he
wasn’t
getting and decided to send her back to Earth when the two species had ironed things out.

Why did he have to be the only male in the solar system who considered her orgasm Job One?

“Jasmine, you’re not eating,” Shauss said.

“I’m not really that hungry.”

He considered her for a moment. “Would you prefer a plate from the candidates’ menu?”

She blinked. When would she learn not to underestimate his perceptiveness?

“Please,” she murmured gratefully. The Garathanis’ preparation of Terran dishes wasn’t exactly haute cuisine, but it beat the heck out of their native dishes.

“You mustn’t hesitate to express your nutritional preferences,” he said.

A moment later a fork and a plate of salmon, rice pilaf, and broccoli were placed before her.

Monica gasped. “How come she gets a fork?”

“Terran meals are served with Terran utensils,” Kellen explained in a patronizing tone. “Ask nicely and you may have one too.”

Uh-oh.

From the silence at the table, Jasmine figured she wasn’t the only one bracing for an explosion, but Monica just narrowed her eyes at him. “Give me a fucking fork. Please.”

Kellen’s lips twitched. “I suppose that will have to do for now.”

He nodded and the wary steward dropped a fork onto her plate from an unseemly height, splashing tiny drops of brown sauce on her pale gray suit.

“Thanks a lot,” she muttered.

Fortunately the steward was shrewd enough not to say
You’re welcome,
and everyone tucked back into their meals.

“Eat.”

Shauss’ tone made Jasmine look up and her pulse quickened at his stern expression. When she didn’t move, he leaned closer, and whispered, “Eat or I’ll feed you. The choice is yours.”

Dismayed by the tickle of desire in her belly, she picked up her fork and ate.

Tiber could hardly take his eyes off Jasmine as she nibbled at her meal. She was exquisite with her thick brown hair swept up to display delicate collarbones and Shauss’ golden gift. Several loose tendrils framed her oval face, and although she wore no cosmetics, her cheeks glowed with color. Every time Shauss fingered the clasp at the back of her neck, her breath caught audibly and her blue eyes widened with awareness.

“You’re not looking so hot, Hastion,” Monica said suddenly. “Something you ate?”

Startled, Tiber turned to examine Hastion. Monica was right—he was unusually pale and sweat dotted his upper lip.

“I think he’s allergic to females,” Zannen drawled. He’d been silent all evening, nursing his ale with a surly expression that discouraged anyone from trying to draw him into the conversation.

As if they’d rehearsed it, Hastion and Monica said simultaneously, “Fuck off, Zannen.”

Hastion sent her a wan grin but Monica was too busy glowering at Zannen to notice.

“I don’t like this.” Tiber stood up. “Let’s get you to the infirmary for observation tonight and we’ll do further studies in the morning to determine if your injuries are more severe than diagnosed.”

Hastion rose too. “You stay and enjoy the festivities. I’ll find my own way there.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll escort him,” Zannen said, getting to his feet.

“Don’t do me any favors.”

“Don’t worry—I need a break from wearing my happy face anyway.”

After Zannen followed Hastion out the door, Jasmine said, “Good Lord, if that was his happy face, I’d hate to see his grumpy one.”

“He’s just jealous,” Shauss assured her.

And no doubt horny, after what he’d witnessed that afternoon—a condition Tiber could heartily relate to. What kind of fool would put himself through a ritual like
jurana
and refuse to seek release from one of the probes?

After a lengthy pause in the conversation, Jasmine asked, “So why aren’t females allowed to remove body hair?”

“Now there’s a question I’d really like to hear the answer to,” Monica declared.

Much to Tiber’s amusement, Kellen sighed. “Actually, you probably won’t like it.”

“Well, I already knew that—otherwise you would have explained it earlier. I’m guessing it’s some sort of payback for centuries of matriarchal tyranny.”

“Some might think so,” Kellen acknowledged, leaning back in his chair and gently swirling the ale in his goblet. “Our females typically abhorred body hair. Not only did they find it aesthetically unpleasing, but it facilitates the radiation of pheromones, which females were loath to be influenced by. While they ruled, both sexes routinely employed long-term growth inhibitors. When males came into power, we dispensed with such foolishness.”

His tone dared Monica to object, and for a moment she looked like she might. Instead, she challenged him again. “So how do you account for your baby-smooth faces?”

“Inhibitors are still allowed for facial hair, and should you develop any, I’ll gladly help you dispose of it.”

“That’s big of you,” Monica said sourly.

“Be grateful you’re allowed to keep the hair on your head,” Kellen told her with a grin. “Most of us males were required to keep ours at an inch or less.”

“Which explains why so many of you have long hair now,” Jasmine said.

“Exactly—although an unfortunate few, like Zannen, had their heads permanently epilated as punishment.”

Jasmine frowned. “Zannen’s bald because a woman made him bald? That doesn’t seem fair.”

Tiber couldn’t help smiling. Now that she didn’t have to worry about taking Zannen to mate, she obviously felt she could afford to show him a little sympathy.

“I’m sure it seemed eminently fair to the female he offended,” he said dryly.

“And I’m sure he deserved it so quit feeling sorry for him,” Monica added with a severe look at Jasmine.

“Actually, my love, he was punished for his role in the Crunus Uprising.”

Tiber gaped at Kellen. “I had no idea.”

“He was only fifteen at the time,” the commander explained, “so it doesn’t appear in his military record.”

Sliding his gaze to Shauss, Tiber sent,
“You never mentioned this in our sessions.”

Shauss’ expression didn’t change.
“You never inquired.”

“What’s the Crunus Uprising?” Jasmine asked.

“It was a failed rebellion that occurred during the Crunus Capture.” He looked back and forth between Monica and Jasmine’s blank faces and sighed again. “I tend to forget you know nothing of Garathani history. The Crunus Capture is the reason the Narthani attacked us in the first place.”

“You captured one of their leaders or something?”

“Actually, Garathan captured one of Narthan’s moons in an incredible confluence of natural events. Both planets orbit Pesera on slightly different inclines, and every few thousand years, they pass quite close to one another. This time, Crunus was between them and also happened to be at its apogee, or the point in its orbit at which it was farthest away from Narthan. The alignment of Narthan’s two moons Crunus and Lomar conspired to allow Garathan’s gravity to draw Crunus into a retrograde orbit. The gravitational forces splintered Lomar and sent debris raining into Narthan’s atmosphere for weeks afterward.”

“Well, that was hardly your fault, was it?”

“No, but as a nearly limitless source of crunite, Crunus was vital to Narthan’s economy at the time and our leaders weren’t as sympathetic to the resultant natural and economic disasters as they could have been. They ousted the settlement of Narthani miners in a short but bloody conflict and claimed ownership of the moon and all its resources.”

“Damn evil females,” Monica mocked under her breath.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Perhaps not. But just so you know,” he added with a self-satisfied smile, “once males seized control of Garathan, we reopened diplomatic negotiations with the Narthani and ultimately forged a partnership in the Crunus mines. Now that Crunus orbits Garathan, Narthan is too far away to routinely utilize the crunite, but their miners are paid fairly and the planetary government receives regular dividends from the sale of the crunite.”

“Damn angelic males,” Monica muttered again. “So what does all this have to do with Zannen’s head?”

“Well, during and after the capture, magnetic storms knocked out communications on Garathan, creating a window of opportunity in which males could attack females without being overridden by the imperatives encoded in their cerecom implants. Some males were successful—others were not. But ultimately the uprising failed and all involved were punished. The only reason Zannen wasn’t executed for his crimes was that he was a minor. Instead, he was made a field slave. All his hair was ripped out by hand and then his head soaked in a follicular atrophic for several days to prevent regrowth.”

“That’s barbaric,” Jasmine breathed.

“Indeed. Afterward, he was tattooed from head to toe with slave labels. The labels have since been removed, but nothing can reverse the damage to his scalp.”

“No wonder he acts like such a prick,” Monica said.

“Don’t feel too sorry for him,” Shauss replied. “Believe me, Zannen takes great pleasure in being a prick.”

“Is that any way to talk about your own brother?”

Shauss didn’t even blink at Zannen’s voice. “You expect me to sing your praises?”

Monica focused on Kellen once more. “Okay, so getting back to the topic at hand, if body hair radiates pheromones, wouldn’t you be better off letting us remove it?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Only because it doesn’t make sense. Aren’t you afraid my radiating pheromones will make some half-crazed male jump me?”

“We have numerous safeguards in place to prevent such an occurrence.”

Monica snorted. “You know, if you guys would quit being such homophobes and fuck each other, you wouldn’t have to worry about pheromones at all.”

“Why in Peserin’s name are you so determined to see males mate with males?” Kellen asked, clearly exasperated.

“I just don’t understand why men who are so desperate for sex would let pride stand in their way.”

“You believe that pride is all that prevents us from satisfying each other?”

“Yup.”

“Monica,” Shauss finally said in a silky tone, “if you’re so convinced that switching teams is easy, why don’t you—what’s the term?—put your money where your mouth is?”