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Bridget's gentle face, he only wanted to impress her. He shoved his hands into the pockets

of his trousers. "It was touch and go for a few minutes, but everything came out all right."

"I'm glad," she said. She caressed the statue and he wished with all his being that it was his body being stroked by her hands. He had to bite his tongue to force the thought away.

"You were not too bored here?"

"I would have preferred to go out now and again, but..." Her voice trailed off. She knew perfectly well why he had imprisoned her in his quarters while he was away.

"I had an additional mission this time out."

Bridget had no desire to hear about the executions he had carried out. Her face

revealed that thought and he shook his head.

"We brought back five Carmelite nuns from Ireland."

Her mouth dropped open. "They're here? On FSK-14?" she gasped. At his nod, her

face paled. "Oh, my God! You can't use nuns for procreation!"

Cree held up his hand. "They were brought here to please the women, not the men. We

can abide by your religious restrictions, Bridget."

She drew in a quick breath. "May I see them?"

"I see no reason why you cannot."

"Are you sure?" she asked breathlessly.

"They are here to perform your religious rites," he said. "One will stay here and the others will be assigned to Rysalia Prime. Eventually, the religious will be on each station

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as well as the homeworld."

"When can I meet them?" she asked, her face aglow.

He shrugged. "Tomorrow morning?"

As much as he had been unprepared for her gentle kiss on the cheek, he was devastated

when she threw her arms around his neck, unaware that the head of the little statue was

gouging his right cheek as she hugged him. The press of her body against his own was

intoxicating and something he had never in his life felt before that moment. He found

himself growing hard beneath the contact of her lower body to his, her breasts pressed

into his naked chest, the scent of her body filling his senses. For one wild moment, he

wanted to encircle her in his arms, crush her to him and fall with her to the floor, to cover her mouth with his and—

"I'm sorry!" she told him, feeling the iron-hard push of his manhood against her belly.

She stepped back, her face beet red. "I should not have done that!"

"No," he mumbled, his body heat making his face feel as though he had stepped inside an active volcano. "You shouldn't have."

Bridget took another step back "It won't happen again, Captain."

He said nothing, not knowing what to say.

"I just wanted to thank you and tell you how much I appreciate you bringing this to

me."

"It was nothing," he said, wondering why he was lying because he had been at great

risk of being caught when he'd stolen the statue she held.

"You thought of me," she said, her eyes warm and gentle, "and that means a lot to me."

Thought of you?Woman I could not keep from thinking of you! You were withme every

mile I flew.

Long after she had left him, Cree stood beside his bed and felt again the touch of her

body, the softness of her lips, his own body's reaction to her closeness, her touch, her

scent. Once more he felt his shaft growing hard and uncomfortable.

"Computer?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Yes, Captain."

He hesitated then clenched his jaw. "I need a Serenian capsule."

"No, Sir," the Vid-Com disagreed. "You need a surrogate."

"No, I do not!"

"You are aroused, Captain. Sexual release is necessary at this time."

"Screw you!"

There was a slight pause, then the computer's silky voice flowed through the room:

"You are not wired to perform that function, Sir."

"Just leave me the hell alone," he said in frustration.

"I am sending you a pleasure female, Captain," the Vid-Com reported then clicked off.

Cree knew it was no use. The Controller would send a surrogate to mount him and

drain him whether he wanted it or not.

Bridget was pouring herself a glass of juice when the door shushed open and a woman

walked into the Captain's quarters. She blinked. "May I help you?"

The woman would not look at her. Instead, she walked to the Reaper's door and tapped

lightly on the panel. It slid open almost immediately and she walked inside. The door

closed.

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explained.
"The intent, of course, is to be a handy receptacle for the Reaper's release and
not to instill in him lust. Sometimes the men are horny and they use the woman in the

standard way. Most of the time, though, it is a simple matter of the surrogate mounting

the warrior and relieving him. Either way, it can't be pleasurable for the female."

"She didn't look happy to be here," Bridget said softly. When the woman left, she

risked a commiserating look at Bridget. She paused in the doorway, then turned to look

back at Bridget.

"He never hurts me," the woman said as though to comfort her.

"Well, that's good," Bridget said.

"Yes," the woman replied. "Yes, it is." She half-smiled then left.

"WHAT ARE you making?" he asked. His curly hair was tousled from what little sleep

he had gotten the night before and was bleary-eyed as he peered down into the pot

Bridget was stirring.

"Beef stew," she answered, ladling up some of the thick broth. "Would you like to try it?"

Cree stepped back from the ladle. "Dead cow meat?" He shook his head. "I think not."

"It also has corn, peas, green beans, carrots and potatoes in it. You know, the usual

stuff?"

He looked up at her suspiciously. "The usual what?"

"Spices, water, tomato sauce." She extended the ladle toward him again, her free hand under it to catch any drips.

He looked as though he would refuse, but then allowed her to place the ladle to his

lips.

"Well?" she encouraged.

"No meat. Just the broth and vegetables," he declared, sitting down at the counter.

A warm smile of pleasure crossed her face. "Would you like some crackers?"

"Crackers?" he echoed, his brows drawing together.

"Never mind." She laughed. She took out a bowl, filled it, then set it down before him.

She went to the cupboard and took out a box of saltines. Even before she could open the

box, Cree snatched it up and was reading the label.

"Sodium," he sneered, putting it down again. "No sodium."

"A little sodium never hurt anyone, Captain," she chided.

"Cree," he said. When she glanced over at him while crumbling crackers into her bowl, he ducked his head much as a shy teenage boy would do. "I am called Cree."

"Does anyone call you Kam?" she asked and was surprised when his head snapped up.

"No one would
dare!
" he said sharply. He thought of Troilus' silly rhyme and looked away. "I am never called that."

She dropped the subject. Lifting her napkin to wipe her lips, she peered at him over the

cloth. "May I ask you something?"

Cree paused with the spoon halfway to his lips. "What?" he asked, suspicion clouding his gaze.

"Now that you are home, will I have to remain here in your quarters or may I have time

to myself to visit about the station?"

"Visit with whom?" he growled, his gaze turning black as sin.

"Dr. Dean, for one," she replied. "I have missed seeing her every day."

He put his spoon down. "I kept you here because I did not want anything to happen to

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you while I was gone, Bridget." He brought his own napkin up and blotted at his mouth.

"Who else is it you wish to see?"

"Just the women at Be-Mod Nine," she answered. "They are the only friends I have."

He stared at her for a long, long time and then narrowed his eyes. "I see no reason why

you can not have access beyond these quarters now that I am here to protect you."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him from what he thought she needed protection,

but she had a pretty good idea it wasn't àwhat', but àwhom'.

"Dr. Dean has asked me to have supper with her this coming Fourth Night." She

pushed her bowl away, her nerves making her hands tremble. She hid them in her lap.

"Would you have any objections if she and I spent those nights together?" She smiled shyly. "Fourth Nights, I mean. Sort of a girl's night out?"

He thought about it for a moment and could think of no logical reason why she should

not. Besides, he had plans to make sure Konnor Rhye was reassigned before Cree was

transported to Hell-12 for the remainder of his punishment. "How long would you be

gone on these nights?"

Bridget clenched her hands together. "One or two hours, I would think."

He mulled that over for a moment then took up his spoon. "I don't suppose that would

be a problem." He ladled the stew into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully then nodded. "I will allow it."

Bridget smiled uneasily. Another trap had been set for Kamerone Cree and he had

walked blindly inside.

"DID YOU send her the recording, Beryla?" asked Dr. Amala Dayle.

"Yes," the Director acknowledged. "She told me she enjoyed the music tremendously."

"Chalean music is not all that different from Celtic music," Hael Sejm conceded. "I knew she would like it."

Dr. Dayle, a bioengineer with the Ministry of Public Education, arched a thick white

brow at the Chalean chemist. "We could have used Ionarian chants and the results would

have been the same. The subliminals encoded within the music was the important thing."

Hael Sejm snorted. "You may enjoy your heathenish Ionarian chants, Dayle, but they

are certainly not conducive to a person's listening enjoyment as Chalean harp and pipe

music is!"

"That is a matter of opinion," the Ionarian scientist sniffed.

Dr. Dean went to her bar and poured herself another Viragonian cocktail. Over the

years, she had developed a fondness for the sweet liqueur. Perhaps too much of a

fondness for the lime-flavored brew. "You know," she said, coming back to her chair and sitting down, "I really think we should push for Bridget to sleep with him before he

leaves for Helios Twelve."

Hael frowned. "And why would that be?"

"Consider this," the Director suggested. "We know his sublims are working. He could not get her out of his mind so he bought her, moved her into his quarters, and has shown

he has become extremely possessive of her when he locked her in while he was gone. He

has also shown he is becoming increasingly fond of her by bringing home the statue of

the Blessed Mother to please her. Now, he is allowing her to visit me and..." She looked ABC Amber LIT Converter

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at her watch. "She should be along shortly, by the way. So that proves the subliminals of trust are in place and working on him."

"So you need to give him a little reward for being such a good little test subject by

allowing him to screw her." Hael snorted.

"No." Dr. Dean sighed. "Our problem at the moment isn't with him. It's with Bridget."

"In what way?" Hael demanded.

The Director set her glass down on the end table. "Bridget is the only weak link in our

chain and we all know it. If she cannot put aside her fear and loathing of Kamerone, we

will never be able to win him over to our side. The subliminals are working, yes, but he is

a very intelligent man. He knows she's afraid of him. She has told him she will not be his

whore so he knows she doesn't want to willingly give herself to him."

"What woman would?"

The Director ignored the hateful remark. "He also knows she is at his mercy yet he

would never force her because, well for one, the subliminals would not allow it, and two,

he has far too much pride to take a woman who does not want him."

"Since when?" Hael injected. "There isn't a Rysalian warrior alive who would hesitate to rape anything on two legs if the mood struck him! They think womankind was placed

here for their personal enjoyment!"

"Don't you think your experiences might have clouded the issue for you, Hael?"

"No, I do not!" Hael answered. "I understand perfectly Bridget's abhorrence of meekly spreading her legs for Kamerone Cree. I think it was vulgar of you to suggest it in the

first place!"

"She has to fall in love with him," Amala stated. "He has to feel her love. He has to be taken so deeply by that love that he will do anything, even go up against the Empire, to

keep her at his side."

"Love has nothing to do with sex!" Hael snapped. "I fail to see what her being debased by that jackal has to do with anything."

"You do not want to see," said Amala. "If you can't inject it, swallow it, or rub it on, it doesn't have meaning for you."

Hael stood, her lower lip thrust forward in challenge. "Why, you scrawny Ionarian

cow, if you can't..."

"Ladies, please!" Dr. Dean cut in. "We don't need to engage in personalities here!"

"I do not agree that you need to have Bridget Dunne prostitute herself to Kamerone