Captain Gareth's Mates

Terran Border Patrol

CASSANDRA PIERCE

Copyright © 2010

Chapter 1

Krys Gareth, captain of the Terran Council vessel
Wayfarer
, stood in the center of his stateroom and examined his surroundings with a critical eye. Though this evening’s mission was of a personal nature, he applied to it the same attention to detail that had served him so well in his military career, enabling him to vault through the ranks of the Interplanetary Border Patrol until he’d achieved command at the astonishing age of thirty-four.

So far, everything had proceeded according to plan. The room’s sparse decorations had been polished and straightened, the furniture had been rearranged to accommodate a guest, and the food generator blinked and hummed as it prepared a special meal. Gareth had spent hours researching the Shiban ambassador’s native culture, studying its dietary customs, and programming the synthesizer to emulate several of its most popular dishes. Hopefully he—and the computer—had gotten them right.

As the first covered plate dropped through the chute, Gareth suppressed a grimace. The meal didn’t look particularly appetizing. It consisted mostly of oddly colored plants chopped into various shapes, doused in even stranger sauces that gave off a strong, vinegar-like smell. All Shibans were strict vegetarians, so, in order not to offend Brennar, Gareth had ordered a meatless lasagna for himself. Not that the computer offered real meat, since everything they ate on board the
Wayfarer
was synthetic. Still, he wanted his guest comfortable with everything on the table...and with him.

With the meal fully rendered, Gareth carried the plates to the table and arranged them on the genuine linen tablecloth, the sort his ancestors used on special occasions and seldom seen in the twenty-fourth century. As a final touch, he lit an old fashioned candle and stepped back to survey his work. Having been a soldier for half his life, he had little experience with this sort of thing, but with any luck his extensive preparations would appeal to the diplomat’s refined tastes.

Satisfied with his efforts, he fished a remote control out of his sofa cushions and flicked on some music. He chose an old Earth form called jazz, which would create a more relaxing atmosphere than the modern cacophonies preferred by his crewmembers.

At last, the expected buzz sounded at his door. He used the remote to slide it open and then watched the ambassador stroll in.

Gareth couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Brennar looked exotic and handsome in a high-collared jacket adorned with bell-shaped sleeves and a line of gold clasps down the front. His native costume also included colorful leggings, tight enough to show off every curve in his muscular calves, and cloth boots that seemed to melt around his long, slender feet. A shimmering, metallic belt adorned his trim waist.

In contrast, Gareth wondered if he might be a bit underdressed, having traded his uniform for a plain white shirt, black pants, and ankle-high boots. When he saw the alien ambassador’s look of pleasure, however, his chest muscles loosened up in relief. Brennar’s reaction confirmed what Gareth had sensed from their first meeting 140 Earth hours earlier. He knew that Brennar was as attracted to Gareth as Gareth was to him.

Even now, a hard lump was swelling between the captain’s legs as his gaze roved over Brennar’s tall, lean body. The ambassador’s pale skin held a slight tint of blue, as delicate as a watercolor painting, while his eyes glinted like twin polished sapphires. The platinum hair that just brushed his shoulders would be exquisitely soft to the touch, Gareth suspected, unlike his own dark, spiky mop. Before the evening was over—maybe before the meal was over—he planned to find out how accurate his expectations were. He intended to touch every inch of that otherworldly skin, either with his hands, his tongue, or some other sensitive body part.

“I’m glad you came,” Gareth said, motioning him inside.

Brennar inclined his head. “I was honored to receive your invitation this evening, and I am even more honored that you wish to consider me among your friends.”

“I do. You did me a great service by warning me of Xaal’s incursion. We would never have been ready for him without your information.”

“Mine are a peaceful people, Captain. We want the same for others. Though politically I must appear neutral, the invasion of an unarmed settlement in order to steal resources is not something I could permit in good conscience.”

“Please, call me Gareth. All my friends do.” Gareth swept a hand toward the table. “Let’s sit.”

They took their places opposite one another. Brennar lifted his silky brows at the array of delicacies spread in front of him.

“I am most flattered at your attention to my dietary needs, Cap—Gareth.” Brennar ladled some samples onto his plate and eyed the lasagna with curiosity. “I hope I can learn to appreciate Terran dishes as well. At least those that do not contain meat.”

“None of them do, if you want to be technical,” Gareth said. “All the food on board this ship, or in any industrialized setting, is synthetic nowadays. Most of my fellow Earthers wouldn’t recognize real steak or chicken if they had it. They probably wouldn’t even like the taste.”

“Still, the flavor does not appeal to me, whether or not real animal flesh is involved. Fortunately, it seems many Earth dishes are made from interesting plants. These I should like to sample sometime.”

“The lasagna contains a vegetable called spinach,” Gareth said, pleased with his own foresight. “I would be delighted to introduce you to it. The recipe has endured for centuries, though many Earth children have traumatic associations with that particular ingredient. Human parents once believed it conferred incredible strength on their offspring. A charming myth designed to trick them into eating well.”

“Perhaps that explains your fortitude, Captain,” Brennar suggested with a sly smile. “From the moment we met, you have impressed me as a man of decisive action but also refined thought. You possess strength both of body and of mind...a rare and admirable combination.”

Gareth reached for the decanter beside him and tilted it against Brennar’s glass and then his own. “Will you share some wine with me? That’s another Earth treat I hope you’ll come to appreciate.”

“I have sampled wine on one occasion and found it most refreshing. I did become somewhat lightheaded, though.”

“Well, I won’t give you too much, then.”

They spent the next few minutes eating and drinking in quiet enjoyment, each sampling the cuisine from the other’s world and politely expressing their mutual appreciation. Eventually, inevitably, the conversation turned to the crisis at hand and the emergency summit meeting on Anubis, which the
Wayfarer
was presently orbiting.

To Gareth’s relief, the small planet’s single functioning city had been receptive to his warning. If the threatened invasion took place, the people were prepared to defend themselves with their weapons of choice. For them, such tools were primitive firearms, bows and arrows, and, if need be, bludgeons made of whatever they found handy. Since none of these would prove the least bit effective against Xaal’s laser-wielding mercenaries, he hoped such a battle would never happen. He couldn’t help admiring their pluck, though.

“What was your impression of Grand Potentate Zimeon?” Brennar asked.

Gareth grinned, recalling the overstated entrance of the colony’s hereditary leader, complete with floor-length robes and a coterie of women who followed him to and from the council chamber, single file and silent.

“He puts a lot of stock in ceremony,” he mused, “but he wants to protect his people, even more than he wants to retain control of his phytronium mines. I can respect that.”

“Yet, you find certain other aspects of Anubian culture more difficult to understand,” Brennar guessed.

“I can’t deny that.” Gareth took a gulp of wine. Brennar was right. The income from the sale of phytronium had made their planet one of the wealthiest in the sector, yet the people there clung to a simple way of life that reminded him of the medieval period on Earth. Technology was something they chose to profit from but not adopt for themselves. That attitude puzzled him, especially with respect to the patriarchal nature of their society. From what Gareth had seen, Anubian females functioned more as ornaments than participating members of a self-sustaining government. Earth women would never stand for such exclusionary treatment.

“Their ways seem eccentric to me, too, though I have certainly seen stranger. For the most part, they appear to be a benevolent race.”

“Well, it isn’t my place to judge. I have one job to do, and that is to guard the planets—and the people—in my district.”

“Not to mention the largest supply of raw phytronium in the sector,” Brennar observed.

“No doubt the Council would hate to lose access to a resource of that magnitude. I can promise you that my first concern is the protection of that colony, whether I share their social values or not.”

Brennar set his wineglass down and fixed Gareth with a penetrating stare. “I believe you.”

“Enough of business.” Gareth broke their locked gaze with difficulty, mesmerized by the sudden intensity that seemed to crackle between them. “According to our calculations, we have several hours before Xaal and his goons arrive. Tonight, we relax.”

“Agreed.”

Gareth held out his glass, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Brennar clicked his against it.

“Earlier, you spoke of friendship. The truth is, Brennar, I would be equally honored if you would call me your friend. I would like it even better if we could become something more. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Brennar’s bright, sapphire eyes narrowed slightly, that sly smile stealing across his lips again. “I must admit I find the male of your species more to my taste than the female. I am not sure why, but from the moment we met I suspected you shared my preference.”

“I do,” said Gareth. “Or, to be more specific, I don’t distinguish between the genders when it comes to sexual interest. I admit I have found pleasure with women in the past.”

“On my planet, preferences like mine are admittedly in the minority, but they are accepted and in most cases respected. I have heard that it is not always so among your people.”

“At one time, that was true. Fortunately, humans have grown more enlightened about many things. I do exercise a certain amount of discretion, of course. I never take pleasure among my own crew, which would compromise my authority, but that doesn’t apply in this case. You’re a guest on board. And it wouldn’t be right to offer you anything less than my full hospitality.”

“In your travels, I suppose you meet many men who stir your blood?” Brennar rolled the rim of his wine glass over his lower lip.

“A few.” Gareth felt the bulge behind his fly shift uncomfortably as he imagined his own mouth taking the place of the glass. He wondered if he were revealing too much, but he felt it best to be honest. To his relief, Brennar didn’t seem to mind his mention of other partners.

“And do I stir your blood?”

“And other things, too.” Gareth rose and crossed to Brennar’s chair. His fingers stroked the ambassador’s chin and gently tilted his head back. “I hope to introduce you to more than just Earth’s culinary delights this evening,” he said. Then he bent down for a kiss.

Brennar’s butter-soft, wine-flavored lips opened willingly against Gareth’s mouth. After a day of longing that had been intense enough to cause him physical pain, the captain found it difficult to pace himself and not dive in with savage abandon. However, he was an experienced lover and knew that the greatest fulfillment came after the longest buildup. Reluctantly, he broke away after a few moments, though his hand remained on Brennar’s cheek.

“On my planet, affection is shown somewhat differently,” the ambassador whispered. Reaching up, he slid one arm around Gareth’s neck and drew him close. Instead of bringing their mouths together, he touched his forehead to Gareth’s.

“I like that,” said Gareth. He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the warmth of Brennar’s skin and the faint but rapid throb of his pulse.

“I like your way, too,” Brennar replied. As if to provide proof, he raised his head so they could kiss again.

Without breaking contact, Gareth pulled Brennar to his feet, and they moved to the bed. This, too, Gareth had prepared in advance. The crisp new sheets were turned down invitingly, the pillows freshly fluffed. A discreet jar of lubricant sat on the nightstand.

Brennar began to remove his clothes. Gareth reached out and covered the slender hands with his own. “No,” said Gareth, “please, let me. On Earth, this is considered one of the most pleasurable steps in the seduction process.”

“Very well.” Brennar smiled. “As a student of other cultures, I look forward to learning more.”