Stark Pleasure; the Space Magnate's Mistress (The LodeStar Series) (38 page)

Kiri narrowed her eyes and glared back, refusing to show pain. “I get it. Enough with the grabbing.”

She turned to the coffee machine. It sat in gleaming splendor. Quark, it was the newest version of the brand she used in her stand. This had cost a starry sum.
 

“Okay, I know how to use this.” She could control one facet of this hellish situation.

She glanced down at herself. She was surprised they hadn’t stolen her clothing. She’d chosen her leather pants, vest, and high boots to wear to the club. Looked like it was going to have to last her for a while. The spider lace top was fragile and wouldn’t hold up, but the leather was top grade.
 

She looked the Mauritian in the eye. “I need an apron. A clean one.”

Freckles hurried to get an apron from the back of the galley, and Kiri tied it over her clothes. It was stained, but didn’t smell any worse than the rest of the place.

As she opened a package of Pangaean dark, her mind was racing. She didn’t know why she was here, or even what ship she was on.
 

The Mau had threatened her with prostitution. And she was not going there, not with a bunch of filthy space transport mechanics. She had to show these freighters that if they wanted good coffee, they needed her. Then she’d figure out the rest—like why she was here, and where Stark was when she really needed him.

She flipped switches and poured in coffee beans with quick flourishes. The machine rumbled to life, grinding the beans, funneling them into the filter, and then adding boiling water. Soon the air was steaming with the scent of fresh coffee. At least they’d purchased—or stolen—top-grade beans. Now for some sleight of hand. If it didn’t work, she was quarked—or fucked by some stinking crewman, which would be light years worse.

Ignoring the Mauritian, who hovered at her elbow, Kiri flipped more switches. She took a deep breath, and set two carafes under the spigots, and filled them both. Then she picked up two fairly clean mugs in one hand and the carafes in the other.
 

“Where’s the captain? First cup for him.”

The Mauritian scowled, but Freckles pointed across the dining hall. “He’s there. Red cap. Captain Argo.”

Kiri walked out into the dining hall and strode through the tables with her burden, chin up, her narrowed eyes daring anyone to stop her. She expected the Mauritian to follow and was relieved when she did not.

Captain Argo was a grizzled human, with weathered skin and gray hair, and the tough demeanor of a man accustomed to being obeyed. His long hair was clubbed back, and he wore a leather utility vest over his flight suit. He sat back in his chair, eyeing Kiri as she approached his table. He looked like a surly version of Rak, so he didn’t scare her. Right. Good thing she’d just used the lav, or she’d be wetting her pants.

The others at the captain’s table stopped talking as she set the two carafes down.

“First cup from your new coffee maker, Captain, sir,” she said. Her voice only wobbled a little. Demurely, she poured a steaming cup of dark brew and handed it to him.

The captain took the cup and saluted her with it before drinking. Then his face twisted in revulsion, and he spat the mouthful of steaming coffee out, missing the cup with part of it. It splattered on the table and his empty plate.

“What the seven hells?” he growled. “That’s the foulest brew I ever tasted, and that’s saying a pile, considering the old wreck of a machine we been using.” His voice rose, his cheeks reddening as he yelled. “This new brew is s’posed to taste better. An’ you’re s’posed ta know how to run it.”

His crew commanders moved restively, scowling at Kiri.
 

She stiffened her knees and poured a second cup. She set it before the captain, whisking away the first cup.
 

“That’s what java tastes like when you don’t know how to use the new machine,” she told him. “Here’s what it tastes like when you do.”

The captain eyed the new cup of coffee, still scowling dangerously. Then he shrugged and took a small sip. A look of pleased surprise crossed his face, and he took another drink. Then he nodded wryly. “That’s more like it.”

His crew commanders relaxed. “I’ll have a cup of that,” a lanky Indigon said.

“So will I. Serve it up, girl.” A Mau pounded his fist on the table.

Kiri kept her gaze on the captain. “Sir, I am a trained barista. Had a shop of my own in the space port, until I somehow ended up on your ship. You keep me in charge of the machine, and I’ll serve up the best java you and your crew ever drank.”

“And I suppose we let someone else touch it, and we get more of that swill,” he said dryly.
 

Kiri shrugged, her heart pounding, her face cool.

The captain laughed, a raspy chuckle that creased his cheeks and set his eyes twinkling. He toasted Kiri with his mug. “I like you, girlie. Darkrunner was right—you got solid fuel. All right, looks like we got us a barista.”

He surged out of his chair, and the dining hall quieted. “This here,” he said to his crew, “is our new coffee girl. What’s your name?”

“Kiri,” she managed. “Wait a sec. Darkrunner made a deal with you?”

“Kiri,” the captain repeated, ignoring her question. His gaze turned crafty. “What else you willing to do to earn your keep?”

It was a challenge, and she knew it. “I’ll cook, I’ll serve. I won’t do sex work of any kind.” Tal had sent her on this ship, had made some kind of a deal with this rough captain. Maybe this was even one of Tal’s ships.

The captain nodded and looked around the room. Heads nodded, although some of them with clear reluctance. A few of the crew merely stared. The captain sat down, satisfied. “Bring my commanders some coffee. The good stuff, mind you.”

“Yes, sir.” And then she’d ask again, until he told her why Darkrunner had shanghaied her. She wanted to know before she shocked the tattooed bastard in the balls.

Chapter 34

Kiri walked back to the kitchen, skirting the table where two Serpentians, a man and a woman, sat watching her. They were among those who had refused to nod.

Her skin crawled. She’d likely have to deal with one or both of them soon. Another Serp woman sat at the table with them, slim and pretty, but with body language that said she could take care of herself. She jerked her chin in a nod as Kiri passed.

Kiri nodded back, shaking off her fear. She had coffee to make. In the galley, she quickly disposed of the bad batch of coffee in the recycler. Then she poured four mugs of coffee and handed the first one to Gravia with a nod of respect. She was going to be working with this kitchen crew, and she wanted them on her side. Gravia scowled but took it. Kiri handed the other mugs to the Pangaeans and Freckles, who winked at her.
 

She hurried back to the captain’s table, but he was gone. His commanders accepted their coffee without thanks, although one of them, a lean man with a long dark braid, winked at her. The next hour was a blur of work and activity as Kiri brewed more huge carafes of coffee and set them out along with a phalanx of mugs. The ship’s supplies evidently didn’t run to creamer and flavorings, which considering the plain protein and veg the cooks were serving up, didn’t surprise Kiri. Dessert seemed to be huge trays of strange red pastries that smelled of spoiled berries.

As the dining hall emptied out, she sank onto a stool with a mug of coffee for herself.
 

“Here.” Freckles shoved a napkin into her hand. It held a plump wrap, exuding flavorful steam. “You look like you’re ‘bout to hit the floor.”

Kiri took a bite, and nearly moaned at the burst of rich protein and spice on her palate. “Mm, good.”

“Gravia’s specialty,” one of the Pangaeans said with a sly twinkle. “Mauritian rat.”

Kiri jerked the wrap away from her mouth and then watched as the other cooks all sniggered. She saluted Gravia with the wrap and took another big bite.
 

“Best rat I ever ate.” The texture was too soft to be any kind of meat, but the Mauritian was clearly enjoying her momentary discomfiture, and Kiri knew Gravia needed some kind of victory to even the score.

As she served coffee, most of the crew left her alone, although she was stripped by more than one gaze. After a time, though, two Serpentian women flounced up to the counter. They were both attractive in a hard way, with flowing hair and tight, bright clothing.

The one with turquoise stripes in her blonde hair set her hands on her hips and glared at Kiri. “You better not be slithering in on our business, bitch.”

“Or we’ll cut you a new one,” the redhead added, smirking. She had very sharp teeth, as if they’d been filed. Kiri wondered if she nibbled her customers with them.

She held out two mugs of fresh coffee. “I won’t be. Anyone tries to make me, I’ll cut him a new one. How’s that?”

They looked at each other and then back at her. The redhead took a cup and nodded. “We’ll be watching.”

“Course they’re not gonna look at you, anyway,” the blonde said complacently, taking the other cup and trailing her free hand over her own deep cleavage. “No tits.”

Kiri certainly couldn’t hope to compete with the impossibly round breasts both of them sported.
 

“You’re right,” she said, trying to look put out. “With you two around no one will notice me.”

“And don’t think you’ll be getting any of my trade either,” added a new voice. A slim Pangaean joined them, his green hair waving about his throat in agitation. “Just because you’re built like a boy.”

Kiri held out another cup of coffee. “Got it.”

The three slithered away with their coffees, a wave of turning heads marking their progress. Kiri sent a silent prayer of thanks that they were on board and hoped that there weren’t too many crew who’d rather have an unwilling partner.

She closed her fingers over the small cylinder in her pocket. She wasn’t sure why they’d overlooked her shocker, but she was grateful to the point of tears. Guess whoever had searched her wasn’t partial to lip gloss.

Kiri followed Gravia’s orders to help clean up from the meal. The dishes all went in the huge washers, and they set droids running on the floors and countertops. The Pangaeans set about wiping down the dining tables.
 

As she cleaned the coffee machine and set a fresh batch to brew, Kiri had time to think. And her thoughts were black holish.
 

“What ship is this?” she asked Freckles, whose name was Gim. “Who owns her?”

“The
SixPac
. Owned by the captain. We’re a freighter, carrying tech goods and other stores for the shops.”

“Shops where?”

“Headed for Frontiera,” he told her, his gaze curious. “Be there in a week, give or take meteor showers in the Cattarus system.”

Kiri was glad she was sitting down. “Frontiera?”

Gim nodded, his gaze faraway. “Yup. She’s a beauty, I hear. Lot of ships headed there carrying immis.”

Kiri took another drink of hot coffee. “I hear wild tribes and pirates roam the place.”

He shrugged, polishing a huge kettle. “I hear the air’s clear, the rain don’t ruin your clothing, and you can walk in the sunlight without getting eaten up with cancers.”

She took another drink, only then noticing her cup was empty. She rose to pour herself another cup. “I hear the wild beasts will eat you first.”

“Skrog,” he said, nodding. “And catamounts the size of sliders.” He widened his eyes at Kiri in mock ferocity and she shuddered.

He chuckled. “You don’t have to get off the ship.”

Kiri didn’t bother to answer. She was getting off this ship, all right, if it was the last thing she did. Then she’d work until she had enough credit to get back to Earth II and her shop. Stark might not know or care where she was, but she was a survivor. She’d get through this.

She looked around nervously. The Pangaeans had gone, and Gravia was mixing something in a huge bowl across the galley. “What do you do between meals?”

“Sleep. Play games. Always a game of holodice going on somewhere. Watch a holovid if you’re lucky enough to have a comlink that works.”

He eyed her. “I was you, though, I’d stay close between here and your sleep cubby. Some rough ones in this crew, and you’re a starry little thing. There’s those that’ll haul you into a dark corner and enjoy it even more ‘cause you didn’t want it.”

Just like on the streets around the New Seattle port. “I noticed. Would you mind walking me to my cubby?”
 

She was exhausted. She didn’t know what time it was by New Seattle time ... not that that mattered.

Gim shrugged. “Sure.”

They walked down the passageway. As eyes turned her way from the denizens of the sleep cubbies along the way, Kiri was glad the burly cook was with her.

But as they walked, a loud siren sounded, and all other sound rumbled to a halt. The ship shuddered and went silent. The lights went out, to be replaced by the harsh glare of tiny emergency flares. The only sound was Kiri’s panicked breath.
 

“What is it?” She grabbed the rail and Gim’s sleeve. “What’s happening?”

He sighed and slumped against the side of the passageway. “Engine trouble again. Just sit tight. Yer hatch won’t work without power anyways.”