Vicky Peterwald: Target (22 page)

“And we’re messing with this kind of penny ante crap,” the commander spat, then edged the acceleration up a smidgen before cutting back on it again. “By the way, we’re out of range. You can start breathing again. Breathe one for me, too.”

“Can’t you relax?” Vicky asked.

“Not while I’m flying this close to the
Rostock
. If their engines so much as cough, or ours hiccup, there will be blood and guts all over the place and not an ounce of brains.

Vicky unstrapped herself from her seat and went to stand behind the commander.

“I’m told I give a decent neck massage. Can I interest you in one?”

The commander rotated his shoulders. “They are kind of tense,” he admitted.

Vicky rested her hands on his shoulders. She left them there, for a few seconds, enjoying the near-electric feel that came every time she touched a man’s skin.

She hadn’t felt it last night when she handled Albert.

Right now, she was feeling it very strongly where the commander was concerned.

“Not bad,” he said.

“I’m just warming my hands on you.”

“Ah, yes. The warmth of my personality. You may bask in it as long as you please.”

Vicky withdrew her hands. “Aren’t there any humble men out there?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” the commander admitted. “I’ve never met one, myself.”

“Me neither. Oh well, I’ll just have to take you guys the way I find you,” she said, resting her hands again on his shoulders.

Only this time, she did begin to knead the taut muscles.

“Hey, you are good.”

“Damn right, I’m good,” Vicky said.

“I mean at this massage thing.”

“I can massage necks and other aspects of the male anatomy.”

“Promises. Promises,” the commander said, “and me stuck with my hands on the controls and a ship under power.”

“Hmm,” Vicky said wickedly. “This could be almost as much fun as having a guy tied to a bed,” she muttered.

“Commander, would you please return to your seat, return it to your full and upright position and firmly adjust your seat belt. We may not be under threat of laser fire, but we are still flying tight formation with one huge cruiser, compared with this little spit kit we’re in.”

“Spoilsport,” Vicky said, but, grinning ear to ear, she returned to her seat.

She made a point to not belt herself in, but turned to him. “Sooner or later, you won’t have that excuse to protect you from all the bad girls your mother never warned you about.” She found that there was a recliner option on her seat and put it all the way back.

She lay back, batted her eyelashes at the commander, who studiously did not look her way, and closed her eyes.

Which was a mistake. She was still way past tired. She yawned twice and found herself drifting off to sleep.

V
ICKY
came awake to the sensation of floating. She opened her eyes.

She was floating!

Twisting in air, she found her seat a good quarter meter below her. She grabbed it and pulled herself down into it.

Quickly, she fastened her seat belt and raised the back of the chair to its full, upright position.

“You could have at least warned me,” she spat at the commander, who might have his eyes straight ahead but had one huge grin on his face.

“But you were sleeping so soundly. And you have such a sweet, innocent look on your face when you sleep.”

“I’ll make you groan in agony and in joy all in the same breath,” Vicky promised darkly.

“Promises, promises. All I ever hear from the girl is promises.”

“Says the guy who won’t take his hands off his own joystick.”

“I got us safely here, didn’t I?”

“So, where is here?” Vicky said, eyeing the front screen.

It was blank. It was focused so tightly on a tiny bit of space ahead of them that not even one star showed.

“There is a jump point not a kilometer ahead of us. At least that’s what my instruments say, and since the
Rostock
just vanished through it, I suspect there is indeed a jump.

“Then what are we doing hanging around here?” Vicky demanded.

“Listening to the girl make promises,” he said, and goosed the engines ever so slightly.

The
Spaceadler
took on just a hint of gravity, then gave it back. They coasted up to a void in space, and in a second were through it.

Now Vicky had new stars to look at.

And one huge cruiser little more than a klick ahead of them.

As the cruiser’s jets came to life, a small window opened on the main screen.

“Good luck, Gerrit. I suspect you’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Heinrich, if the last ride with her is any promise for the rest of them, I’ll need all the luck a man can hope for.”

“Go on complaining, you lucky bastard.
Rostock
out.”

“And who was that,” Vicky demanded. “Another buddy from the academy?”

“Captain Rikert was a teacher when I was at the academy. Maybe you battleship Sailors didn’t notice, but it takes a captain to skipper a cruiser, Lieutenant Commander.”

“I am properly put in my place, Commander,” Vicky snapped. “Now, again I say, where are we and how safe are we?”

“Check for yourself. The electronic countermeasures suite is at your station, Commander.”

Vicky turned back to what she had previously used to check for the station radar. On further study, it was a small but quite capable electronics sensor suite. Apparently, she’d been more tired than she realized. But then, what kind of a yacht had a sensor suite suitable for a small warship?

Apparently, this one.

On closer examination, it showed to be new, gleaming chrome where the equipment around it had dulled with age. “Is this something your little elves added while no one was looking?”

“Likely,” the commander allowed. “Are you picking up any radars in the system?”

Vicky checked. “One radar, the
Rostock
. The rest of the system is dead silent.”

“Good. I was told it should be.”

“Do we follow the
Rostock
?”

“Nope, she’s headed for the closest jump out of here so she can honestly say she has no idea where we went.”

“And us?”

“We kind of aim ourselves for someplace in the middle of the farthest three jumps and wait until the
Rostock
jumps out of the system before we set our course for one in particular.”

“Mighty paranoid of you,” Vicky said. “I kind of like that in a man I’m running for my life with.”

“I bet you say that to all the men you run for your life with.”

Vicky thought for a second. “Come to think of it, you’re the first guy I’ve ever run for my life with. Captain Morgan did a good job of keeping me alive, but we never really got a chance to run around much before he kind of died.”

“Poor planning on his part, no doubt,” the commander said.

“Or on mine. I’m not sure how that went down. One minute we were laughing, and the next minute it was bad, bad, and bad. And getting worse.”

“Death can sneak up on you like that,” the commander allowed.

Vicky shivered. They sat in silence for a while as the ship settled down to a comfortable 1.25 gees.

“So, how do I make sure nothing sneaks up on us while we’re sleeping or something?”

“Or something. Is that more promises?” came with a broad and hopeful grin.

Vicky scowled. “How do we keep from being snuck up on?”

He got serious. “Have the countermeasure suite feed its take into the main computer and rig it with audio alarms. Can you do that?”

“Of course I can,” Vicky said with more confidence than she felt.

C
OMPUTER, CAN YOU CONTACT THE CONTROLS OF THE COUNTERMEASURE SUITE?
Vicky thought.

Y
ES, MA’AM.

P
LEASE DO AND HAVE IT REPORT THROUGH THE AUDIO OF THE SHIP’S COMPUTER.

There was hardly a pause before the computer answered. I
CANNOT INTERFACE WITH THE SHIP’S COMPUTER.
I
DO NOT HAVE THE PASSWORD FOR IT.

“Okay, hotshot, what’s the ship’s computer’s password?” Vicky snapped.

“Ah, the idiot girl is using her computer,” he said, the big grin on his face not softening his words at all.

“Her Grace is learning very well how to use her computer. How come no one ever chides Kris Longknife for having to use her Nelly to do all those fancy things she does?”

“’Cause she likely only has weak-kneed guys around her?” the commander suggested.

“You haven’t met Captain Jack, have you?”

“He’s a Marine. He can’t be too smart.”

Vicky sighed. This banter was going nowhere.

“The computer password,” she said. And then added, “Please.”

“Since you asked me so nicely. The password is ‘Incorrect.’”

“The password is ‘Incorrect’?”

“Yes. My buddy’s dad could never remember a password. So he used ‘Incorrect’ for everything. That way, when he entered the wrong password, the computer would tell him, ‘Your password is incorrect.’”

“You are pulling my royal and Imperial leg,” Vicky snapped. But it was through a growing grin.

“Try it.”

Her cover blown, Vicky said out loud, “Computer, the ship’s password is ‘Incorrect.’”

“The ship’s computer’s password is ‘Incorrect,’” almost had a doubting question mark appended to it.

“Affirmative,” Vicky said.

“I have interfaced with the ship’s computer,” her computer reported a moment later. “I have instructed it to report any new data from the countermeasures suite through the ship’s address system. It is to keep reporting that information until one of you acknowledges the message. Each repeat of the message will be louder.”

“Test the system,” Vicky said.

“Countermeasures reports the system clear except for the
Rostock
,” the ship announced.

Vicky opened her mouth to acknowledge the report, but Gerrit waved her to silence.

Half a minute later, the ship repeated the message, but at a louder volume.

“Thank you, ship,” Gerrit said. “So, you, or at least your computer, have interfaced the two systems, and if I’m in the head and you’re catching up on your beauty sleep, we’ll know immediately if something jumps into the system.”

Vicky nodded. They were safe, and would be warned if anything changed. Vicky weighed the situation . . . and decided she needed to do something about it.

“So, as you pointed out,” she said, batting her eyelashes as she allowed herself a luxurious stretch. One that emphasized both of her best assets. “I’ve been making promises and I haven’t kept a one of them. You ready to give a gal a chance to make an honest woman of herself?”

“That’s direct,” he said, and made a point of swallowing dramatically.

“I’m a direct kind of gal. If this is really a high-priced yacht, it’s got to have all kinds of automatic controls. No owner wants to spend all his time in the worry seat. Isn’t that what you call your chair?”

“I’ve heard it called that,” the commander said, eyes roving his instruments. “I’d like to stay here for a bit until we are well away from the
Rostock
and have a chance to case the place a bit more.”

“Ever so cautious,” Vicky said. “I guess I can’t complain. By the way, I checked before we jumped. There was nothing behind us when we left the Greenfeld system.”

“Jump point Emile isn’t used very often,” the commander said. “That’s why we picked it.”

Vicky settled into her chair and ran the sensor system through its paces. It succeeded in picking up the reactor from the
Rostock
but no other reactors in system. It identified the cruiser’s radars and lasers by make and model type but found nothing else in system.

Vicky had the computer follow the raw feed from the countermeasures box back as far as the antenna. There was no apparent break in the flow of data and no cutout that she could spot. If the box had been jimmied, it was well past her ability to find it without taking out a screwdriver and digging around under the dash.

Assuming that her paranoid self wouldn’t damage stuff in the process.

For a good half hour, they made their way deeper into the system and away from the
Rostock
, and the system stayed quiet and safe.

Satisfied the ship was indeed alone in an empty system except for their erstwhile escort, Vicky made a show of sniffing at the armpits of her shipsuit.

“I need a shower. Commander, shouldn’t we save the ship’s water supply by showering together?”

“Do I need a shower?” he asked.

“You need a shower. I can smell you from here,” Vicky lied with a straight face.

“Well, if the woman says the man needs a shower, I guess the only thing a gentleman can do is clean up his act.”

“Before we get down and dirty,” Vicky purred.

“You sure you’re up for this?” came out concerned and serious.

Vicky did a quick mental check. As usual, her soul was back on ice. Other things were . . . revving up very nicely.

“If I start shaking and go pale. Or worse, try to slit your throat, I’m sure you’ll take the signal as a no and stop,” she said with what she hoped was an honest grin.

“Since you put it that nicely,” he said, and activated a couple of toggles on his station. There was a bit of a surge in acceleration, but then it went back to where it had been.

He stood. “After you,” he said.

“You just want to see how my ass wiggles,” Vichy shot back, and made sure her ass wiggled as she headed for the exit.

T
HE
guy waited patiently while Vicky got the shower where she wanted it: nice and warm. It may have helped that the gal shed her shipsuit on the way down the circular stairwell.

He, however, kept his shipsuit on and his hands to himself.

What do you know, I may have found myself a gentleman.

His eyes, however, were clearly enjoying the view of her in the lingerie the woman Marine captain had provided. Happily, it was nowhere close to regular issue.

Which raised all kinds of question about that captain’s instructions and what a real woman Marine kept in her lingerie drawer. Vicky really didn’t want to delve into those questions. So she didn’t.

Water just right, she shimmied out of said underthings and slipped under the water. There, she turned to eye the commander, and, only coincidentally, gave him an eyeful of her.

He groaned. “You’re even lovelier than your news report suggested.”

“You couldn’t expect me to show everything for just a few extra minutes of airtime, could you?”

“Certainly not.”

“Now, are you shy or something? We’re wasting water. If you’re going to have me take my shower alone, yours is going to be a very cold one.”

“I’ll need one.”

His shipsuit was showing evidence of why.

“Or,” Vicky purred, “we can take care of that the way nature intended.”

“Yes, I think you very much can,” he said, and his shipsuit was quickly a puddle on the floor. In a second, he added his underwear.

Now it was Vicky’s chance to survey what he had to offer, and she did like what she saw. He might have spent the last couple of months as a slob and a thug’s henchman, but he hadn’t let himself go to seed. He was well muscled . . . in all the right places.

Vicky allowed herself a low wolf whistle.

“I thought that was my line,” he said, slipping into the shower.

“If the bod fits, I always say, whistle for it.”

He began to soap up her back.

She shivered, despite the warm water. Then he reached around and began to soap up her front. She moaned nicely for him, and for the very manly item he now rested between her butt cheeks.

“Nice,” she said.

“You’re all soaped up. Now rinse off,” he ordered. “This may be a yacht, but its water tank isn’t endless.”

“Slave driver,” she said, and took his hand and put it between her legs. “You missed a spot.” He applied himself to cleaning her there . . . while she moaned nicely.

“Now, rinse,” he ordered.

She did.

“Now it’s my turn,” Vicky said, and turned him around to face the shower flow. She started, as he had, on his back. It was large and broad and covered with nice, tight muscles.

Really, I should have done this shower thing with more men.

She was working his butt when he turned around way too soon. But that did give her even more delightful maleness to soap up.

“The chest. Don’t forget the chest,” he reminded her when she might have run the tank dry on what she had in her hands.

So she lathered up his nice chest. Strong pecs. She might have to study an anatomy chart so she could praise all of him properly.

She would have lingered there, but he raised his arms over his head. “I do remember some woman complaining about the odor in the cockpit.”

So she soaped up under his arms.

By now the water was starting to run to the chilly side, so she obeyed when he insisted they rinse off thoroughly. But that still let her run her hands over him as he did the same for her.

Water off, she toweled him down as he provided the same courtesy for her.

She, of course, insisted he be dry everywhere, and when she finished, he made sure there wasn’t a drop on her anywhere, either.

They might never have gotten out of the tiny bathroom; Vicky was coming up with several delightful ideas for using the close walls, when he led her by the hand to the bed.

“This is taking forever,” she purred, wondering what Gerrit had about beds.

“I hope you’re saying the same thing in a couple of hours,” he said through a deliciously mischievous grin.

So she threw herself at him, wrapped her arms and legs around him, and gave him a long, wet kiss.

“Now I’ll bet you want to towel yourself dry again,” she said when she came up for air.

“Nope. Good, honest human spit don’t need no toweling,” he said, and tossed her on the bed so hard she bounced. “You may think you’re just a bit of nothing, woman,” he said, putting his hands on his back and stretching, “but at one and a quarter gee, you’re too heavy for that bit of the Kama Sutra.”

She flipped herself around and began enjoying the lovely prize he was dangling there in front of her. He let her get a few good licks. Then he grabbed her by her hips and flipped her around and over, facedown on the bed.

“Down, girl, this has got to take enough time for you to be complaining about this taking forever.”

“Well, I was doing my part. So far, you were just standing there looking inviting,” she said with her face now squished into the pillow.

He began massaging her feet.

“Stop that,” she said.

“Why, you ticklish?” he asked, not stopping.

“No, but you’re making me feel things all over the place.”

“Like here?” he said, and a hand wandered up to her thigh.

“Kind of.”

“Or here?” Now his fingers were exploring the soft inner flesh of her thigh.

“Yes.” She moaned. “No. I’m not ticklish there.”

“Or here?” His hand was back doing things to her feet.

“No, I’m not ticklish there, I just don’t like the way you make my feet and a whole lot of other things feel. You sure you don’t have some sort of fetish?”

“And if I did, would it matter to you?” now his fingers wandered up one leg and found the sweet spot between them.

“Oh,” she moaned.

“Yeah, I thought that would work just fine. Now, enough of that,” he said, and flipped her over on her back.

“What?”

She might have said more, but his mouth was on hers, caressing, exploring, getting to know every part of her.

She felt him exploring other places as well.

Whatever question she had wanted to pose evaporated.

Then his questing tongue was working its way down her cheeks and throat before diverting to one breast, his fingers to another.

“Nice,” she managed to get out around another moan.

“No more complaints?”

“Was I complaining?”

“Might have been.”

“Must have been some other girl you were doing this to. Couldn’t have been me.”

His teeth closed urgently on her nipple; she felt explosions around a totally different part of herself.

Now his tongue explored lower and lower on her. Quickly, his tongue and fingers switched places. She arched her back and spread her legs wide as his tongue reached her goal, while his fingers did wonderful things first to one breast, then the other.

Vicky spread her arms, reaching for . . .

“Oh!” She’d found something bobbing around beside her, and latched onto it. “Look what I’ve got,” she moaned as she began to play with it.

“You are making it hard for a workingman to keep working.”

“Or a hard man,” Vicky offered.

He answered by sucking just the right place. Suddenly, Vicky couldn’t remember anything that she might want to do as she was shaken by one long shiver.

She let out a long moan.

And a shout when her world imploded and exploded at the same moment.

A bit later, she came up for air.

“I’m not done,” he said.

“More, sir?” was somewhere between a question and open begging.

He flipped her back over, facedown, and pulled her close. For several moments, his fingers did that magical thing in the soft spot between her legs. She would have thought herself sated, but she found she was hungry for more.

Slowly, he pulled her hips up, brought her to her knees, and gently put her new, very favorite toy where she’d wanted it for, oh, forever.

And then he took it away.

She moaned at the loss.

He brought it back, but this time let it play about where his fingers had.

Then, ever so slowly, he drove it deep into her.

She shivered, tensed, moaned, and smiled.

When he tried to withdraw, she backed up, keeping it where she wanted.

Thus it went on forever, him giving her what she wanted, then trying to deprive her of it. Her backing up against him, demanding what was hers.

Finally, he seemed to lose the iron control that had allowed him to play this game with her. Now he pounded. She got, and gave as good as he did until the stars exploded, and he ended up atop her.

Deliciously spent, she managed to wiggle around under him until she had his head resting between her breasts.

“Now I’ve got you just where I want you,” she whispered.

“Strange, I could say the same about you.”

She listened as his heart slowed, and his breathing followed. So did hers. He was falling asleep. It seemed like a good idea to her, too, so she did, too.