Mission Mistletoe (6 page)

She offered the device to Ilin, and he took it.

“Thank you,” he said, extending a hand for the wine. Nadine reluctantly handed it over.

“I’m going to get chewed out for this,” she said. “The moment he notices it’s gone….”

“Just tell him it’s his own fault,” said Ilin. “He chose to have it on Arctos with me. I liked it.”

Nadine looked amused at that, folded her arms and rolled her eyes.

“Would you happen to know a good way I can get him to come to my room tomorrow?”

“Ask him,” said Nadine, turning to scrape her burnt cookies off the tray.

“I don’t think he’ll go for that. When I met him in his office earlier, we got close. He seems to think it’s the end of the universe if we do more than that.”

“Well, he could lose his position,” said Nadine, setting the empty tray on the automatic washer rack. “He’s lost a lot lately. He probably wants to go on being captain.”

“That is ridiculous.”

Nadine shrugged.

“Promise him you won’t tell anyone. Don’t report it. It’s a sensitive assignment.”

“How can this be a problem if it’s something we both want?”

Nadine sighed.

“I take it your people don’t deal with this sort of thing.”

“We’re not repressed. Adults understand sexual relations can be separate from other matters.”

“Good for you,” said Nadine. “Terrans are suspicious. If he’s worried, you might not be able to get him to come to your room at all.”

Ilin frowned. He did not like that one bit. Nadine turned back to her food printer and fiddled with the settings as he thought. How could he get the captain to his rooms to begin with? Ilin was certain he would not leave once there.

“I have an idea,” he said, and she turned back suspiciously. “Will you help me?”

“Depends,” said Nadine. “What do you want?”

“Just a little lie from you. Would you do that?”

She sighed.

“You’re damn lucky I like you, Jhex. Tell me what it is.”

“C
ONNECT
TO
Nadine,” said Archer immediately on entering his room. Though it was Christmas, he had gotten up early to put in some work reorganizing the new course, checking in on engineering, and sending another report out to Severs. Now he was giving himself the rest of the day off, and he was going to enjoy it, alone with his bottle of mulled wine. Just himself and the wine, maybe an old movie or a book.

“Nadine here, Captain,” she said. She almost sounded nervous.

“Could you have someone from the kitchen bring me whatever you’ve got lying around for a meal and that bottle of mulled wine I had you hold on to?” Archer sat and kicked off his shoes as he waited for her to respond. “Nadine?”

“Yeah, about that….”

“What?” asked Archer, not even surprised with what she came back with. Everything had been a disaster about this assignment. He couldn’t even remember why he had taken it.

“I don’t have it anymore.”

Archer rubbed his eyes, leaning back on his couch.

“What, did it get up and walk away?”

“No, sir, the ambassador claimed it. I felt it was best to give it to him.”

Archer felt his pulse jump with anger. Of course Jhex would go and do something like that. Probably he was playing games or waiting for Archer’s move. He was sorely tempted to storm into Jhex’s rooms and rip the bottle out of his highly skilled fingers, but he did not think he could trust himself to do only that.

“Captain?”

“What?” he snapped.

“I’m actually a bit worried about him. He hasn’t ordered anything or been by the mess since he came by to pick up the wine yesterday. Doesn’t he need meds with food to breathe properly?”

Archer swore. Yet another thing he had to deal with.

“How long has it been?” he asked, trying to figure out how concerned he should be. Surely Jhex wouldn’t kill himself. But he might need medical attention at this point.

“Eighteen hours at least. Should I send someone to check on him?”

“No,” said Archer, standing. His heart was beating fast again. Eighteen hours was too long. Jhex needed his pills every eight to ten hours, as he recalled. He exited his rooms in his socks and rushed down the corridor. He shouldn’t be this worried. He told himself he was concerned for his job, for his future, but he knew as he did so that it was more than that. He did not want the ambassador dead. And if it had been eighteen hours…. Jhex was definitely not doing well, if he was still alive.

Within moments he was standing before the ambassador’s quarters, calling in his override codes to open the door. He entered into a darkened, quiet room, the door snapping shut behind him.

“Ilin,” he called out without a response, then, “Lights on.”

His eyes hurt immediately, and he blinked as he scanned the room for the ambassador, not seeing him. Strangely, the room seemed to be decorated for Christmas, albeit inexpertly, but he did not have the time to stop to take it in. Once he noticed the ambassador was not in the main room he went directly to the bedroom and turned on those lights. Nothing. The room was empty.

“You have good choice in rooms, Captain,” said Ilin from behind him, and he whirled.

The ambassador stood several steps from him, looking very much like he had remembered to take all of his pills. He was smiling and dressed in green clothes with sheer golden fabric drifting over them.

Archer clenched his hands. He had been tricked.

“You look angry.”

“I thought you were dying,” said Archer, wanting to cross the few steps to him and shake him, kiss him. He forced himself to stay exactly where he was.

“You called me Ilin.”

“I thought you were dying,” repeated Archer, snarling the words now.

“Did you really think I’d be that stupid?” asked Ilin, smiling.

“With the way everything else has been going, I don’t question anyone who tells me a disaster’s in progress.”

“No disaster. I needed you here, and I did not think you would come for me.”

Archer eyed him. Ilin motioned with a hand.

“Come, sit. I put together something for you. I have mulled wine.”

“I don’t trust you,” said Archer, but he followed. Ilin showed him to a chair and sat across from him, much like the last time Archer had been here, except this time there were more decorations. The far wall no longer displayed the supernova but instead a cozy cabin image, complete with moving fireplace flames and snowfall. Cookies sat on the low table before him, a small plate of six, all his favorite kind of gingerbread—circular, not people shaped. The mulled wine was out and warmed. In a corner, a potted tree from the garden area stood, several of its branches snapped under the weight of heavy ceramic ornaments. Random pieces of Ilin’s artwork sat next to the pot.

“Happy Merry Christmas,” said Ilin, passing him a mug of the wine. “I thought you could use it. But I did worry you wouldn’t show.”

Archer stared at him for several long moments before taking a sip of the delicious beverage.

“I shouldn’t have. You asshole. I thought you were dying.”

“You said that already,” said Ilin, smiling. “And that’s no way to speak to an ambassador, correct?”

“If I didn’t want to drink this it would be in your face right now,
Ambassador
.” Archer took another sip. “I don’t have to be polite to anyone who steals my wine.”

“I was under the impression you were concerned about what I report.”

Archer laughed at that.

“I don’t think it matters much at this point. I’m screwed. This entire mission’s been one incident after another. I don’t see how I’m going to get out of it without at least a suspension.”

“Well,” said Ilin, fingers wrapping around his mug, “If it means anything, I will be sending positive reports of my time here.”

Archer eyed him.

“And what do I have to do for that?”

“Nothing.” Ilin smiled wide. “Unless you want to play it like that. I would not mind taking on the role of never-pleased ambassador ordering a reluctant captain around. How many times would I have to tell you to take your shirt off before you obeyed?”

“Maybe I should be ordering you around. Do what I say or I’ll leave you down on Arctos.”

“You would be taking your shirt off long before you would get me on a shuttle,” said Ilin, looking smug.

“I don’t think so,” said Archer, relaxing somewhat with the wine, the banter. Ilin wasn’t making any moves like he had in Archer’s office, and that set him at ease.

“You’re here, correct? And you pulled away first yesterday. Face it, Captain, you’re not as in control as you’d like to believe you are.”

Archer scowled.

“I do want to let you know, though, whatever happens in here is secret. I won’t be adding it to a report or telling anyone about it,” said Ilin.

“What makes you think I’m going to do anything that needs to be kept secret?”

Ilin smiled. He set aside his mug and picked up a data device.

“I have Christmas music,” he said, moving to plug the device in. “I haven’t listened to it yet, so it will be my first time. What do you think?”

“I’m shocked you still have first times,” muttered Archer into his wine, Ilin’s smile telling him the Nler’sh’eh had heard him. “All right. I haven’t heard any in a while myself.”

Ilin sat back down, took up his mug, and instructed the computer to play the files. Sleigh bells chimed for several seconds. Then the wall that had been displaying the fireplace scene switched to a bad display of a North Pole factory where all the toys seemed to be dildos. Good-looking tattooed elves in nothing but green stocking caps and boots moved around, and Archer hid a laugh in his wine as he watched the expression on Ilin’s face.

“Problem, Ambassador?”

“This… is not music,” said Ilin. “Computer, what is this?”

“
Santa’s Christmas Orgy
,” said the computer. Ilin glanced at Archer, now struggling so hard not to laugh he had to set his mug down.

“It’s a classic,” he said to Ilin’s expression of confusion. On the wall, Santa burst into the room in only a red cap and black boots, looking
very
jolly.

“Computer, stop,” said Ilin. Archer decided he liked the Nler’sh’eh when he was flustered. “Play the music files.”

“No files found.”

“Computer, list selection,” said Archer, grinning at Ilin.

“Santa’s Christmas Orgy, O Christmas Wood, A Holly Jolly—”

“Computer, stop,” said Ilin, frowning. “She said this was Christmas music.”

“Who?”

“Nadine….”

“Won’t she be disappointed when she’s done with her shift, then,” said Archer, laughing. “I think you got the wrong data device, Ilin. Nice to know that the bad luck’s not just for me.”

He picked up his mug and took another drink as Ilin returned the wall to its original image. The ambassador sighed, shook his head, smiled slightly.

“Everything has been going wrong for me too,” he said. “Not just the music. The only evergreen tree doesn’t seem to want to hold the ornaments. The food printers were burning the cookies….”

“But those look good,” said Archer, reaching over to take a cookie. One before dinner never hurt anyone.

“Nadine said the printer was fixed now.”

Archer bit into the gingerbread, crunched through hard, burnt cookie, and coughed. He pulled it back to glare at it, finding a layer of crispness in the middle. Ilin leaned forward and broke another in half, peering at the burnt layer.

“I suspect these are also no good.”

Archer tossed the remains of the cookie back onto the plate and tried to wash the taste out of his mouth with the rest of his mug of wine. He watched Ilin, all the misfortunes hilarious to him now. He realized he was seriously considering how ridiculous sex with Ilin would be, how many accidental bumps and bruises would result, considering nothing was going right.

“Clearly the food printer is not yet repaired,” said Ilin, pushing the plate away with a finger.

“Clearly.”

Ilin looked up at him and smiled.

“What are you thinking, Captain?”

“Archer,” he said. “Please.”

“Oh,” said Ilin, smile turning to grin. His dark eyes glinted. “I see.” He got up and took the bottle of mulled wine away, placed it on a table near the door.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re acting like we are more intimate,” said Ilin. “I should not serve you more wine.”

“I’m not drunk off one,” said Archer, irritated.

“And I want you to stay that way,” said Ilin. He crossed back to Archer and hovered over him like he had on the day he had given him his sculpture and then rubbed his shoulders. “We’ll have the rest later.”

“You’re in my space, Ilin,” said Archer, trying to remain calm and not turn around.

“And what will you do about it?”

“I could walk out,” said Archer, refusing to react when Ilin drew a finger down the back of his neck. His pulse went crazy, though, and he focused on breathing.

“But you won’t, will you?”

Ilin’s hands descended to his shoulders, rested. The touch was gentle, so light that it took everything Archer had to remain sitting.

“This isn’t appropriate behavior from an ambassador,” he said.

“And it isn’t appropriate for a captain to be enjoying it, but here we are.” He drew a finger up the side of Archer’s neck.

“I’m leaving, Ilin.”

The ambassador leaned closer for a moment, lips brushing against Archer’s ear, fingers tightening on his shoulders.

“Go ahead,” he said and released his grip.

Archer stood, turned. Ilin looked pleased and excited, eyes shining as they met his. He knew he should go, but Archer did not want to leave. And after everything, he could convince himself staying was the better decision. Ilin had prepared for him. Everything else had gone wrong. Why not, when this could be the only good thing out of this assignment?

“You have my wine.”

“It
is
mine if I want it to be.”

Ilin was smug, too smug. Archer had crossed to him before he realized he was moving and grabbed him by the shoulders as though to shake him. When he blinked and let up on his grip, Ilin hooked his waistband with several fingers and grabbed his hip with his other hand.