Desire Disguised Page 6

  “Thank you for that. He’s really going to enjoy sitting up there. And thank you for taking us out.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope we can recover most of your belongings.”

  “We didn’t have much. You shouldn’t have wasted your time, Lt. Soloman’s time, and this flight on picking up a few bags of old clothing.”

  “We need to survey the site and make more detailed reports to Falk’s executor and to the transit authority.” Cara inhaled and opened her mouth to speak, and he held up his hand. “No, I’m not putting anything about you in those reports. These are for agencies determining cause and salvage possibilities. Passengers don’t factor.”

  She swallowed and nodded. Perhaps she was coming to trust him. “How long is this flight?”

  “Another forty minutes ought to see us there.” Now, she’d nod, close her eyes, and lean back against the cushion to withdraw from any more contact. Ben didn’t want her to do that. He wanted to talk with her. All the scheduling updates and memos he could be transmitting from his datpad at this moment didn’t compare to his desire to learn more about Cara Belasco.

  Instead of feigning sleep, she curved her body as much as the restraints would allow and faced him. “Do you have questions for me?”

  He shook his head, hoping he detected a teasing note in her voice. “How about you turn the tables and ask me a few. I might get boring after a few minutes and we can get back to you.”

  All too soon, Soloman announced they’d reached the crash site. Ben enjoyed the quiet conversation he’d shared with Cara. She’d kept her voice low, and he’d had to incline his head her way along the seat cushions in order to hear her over the mechanical sounds of the ship and Mat’s excited commentary from the cockpit. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of slate blue-green, and she’d smiled in response to most of his attempts at humor. At her cautious prompts, he’d told her about some of his escapades at the academy and a few of the funnier anecdotes from his time here on Gamaliel. She’d revealed her favorite color was green and she preferred savory snacks to sweets. It had been an altogether pleasant ride, but as the ship circled and banked to land, he knew he had to conduct himself as the leader of this expedition again and not as a man trying to get to know an inherently reserved woman.

  “Any sign of visitors?” Ben unhooked himself from his harness and took a few steps to peer out the front shield as the ship descended. Technically, he shouldn’t be unrestrained until they were still, but he trusted his balance and Soloman’s piloting skills enough to risk it. Getting some distance from Cara was also necessary.

  “No, sir, everything scans as we left it.” Soloman had already activated the onboard detail monitors to record all the pertinent information about the abandoned ship.

  Mat was finally silent when he saw the ship from above. It was a dramatic scene. There was over a kilometer of shredded and burned forest from the first point of impact to the final resting place of the barely recognizable vessel. Ben doubted the salvagers would bother with it. Gamaliel was too remote, and the materials they might be able to lift off the planet wouldn’t compensate anyone enough to bother removing the wreckage. Falk’s lost ship would slowly sink into the surface only to be stumbled upon in a century by someone exploring the area.

  “Put us down where we landed before. It was a good surface.”

  Ben grabbed a loop hanging from the cockpit ceiling as Soloman brought the flyer down. As soon as the ship settled, Mat struggled with his restraints. It took both Ben and Soloman to untangle him from the straps, and the boy soon bounced at the hatch, ready to explore. Ben gestured for the lieutenant to accompany Mat outside, and he turned to see if Cara needed help. She sat immobile and watched him, her hands not making a move to free herself.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure.” She struggled with the chest strap, and without thinking, he knelt to help her. Whenever her fingers tangled with his he noticed how cold her skin was. Together they managed to unfasten all the buckles, and she shrugged out of the harness and to her feet. He followed her to the hatch and almost stumbled into her when she halted at the ramp. The crashed ship rose in front of them like a giant’s mistreated toy. Every surface was pitted and charred and whole sections were missing. Belatedly, Ben realized she’d never seen it. When he’d carried her out, she’d been nearly unconscious. Her brother was apparently unfazed. Ben could hear his excited questions echo in the quiet forest.

  “How did we survive?” she muttered under her breath as she took three slow steps down to the ground.

  “Your pilot was good. And you had time to get in the foam. That’s what saved you.” Ben tallied up what had ensured their lives in two sentences. Far more people perished in the risky habit of space travel than survived whenever there was any sort of malfunction of a small ship hurtling through trans space. They’d been lucky against astronomical odds.

  Following the sound of Mat and Soloman’s voices, they entered the ship through the emergency access cut in the hull. Dried muck coated every surface the rescue crews had stood on, and there was still an enormous amount of debris scattered about. The foam survival pods had been shoved to the sides and yawned open like broken eggs. There was dried blood on most of the cockpit surfaces. Mat rushed up to Cara brandishing a display.

  “Look here! This shows the ship in all dimensions. Soloman showed me how to morph it from standard,” the boy adjusted the image to show the cruiser in its sleek and powerful original form, “to how it is now.”

  With a few moves of his fingertips, the model contracted and lost every protruding fin and nacelle. “Soloman says we were seconds away from being cooked alive.” Mat sounded thrilled, but Cara blanched as she took in the eroded little image.

  Ben scowled at Soloman, unhappy with his language choice, but the young officer was too busy scanning up the data recorder contents to notice.

  “Come on, Mat. Do you remember which locker Falk put our baggage in?” Cara wrenched the display away from her brother’s hands and passed it off to Ben without looking. She and Mat stumbled over toward a bulkhead and studied the content markings that weren’t obscured by mud or soot. Before Ben could reach to help, Mat had keyed in a lock code and struggled to pull the hatch open.

  “Here, let me,” Soloman said, and he leaped over to the siblings, smiling at Cara as he bunched his muscles and heaved it open with a squeal of bending metal. Cara straightened her shoulders and gathered up some nondescript packs. Soloman offered to carry them out, and she agreed with a small smile. Obviously pleased to be of service, the lieutenant swung everything up in one arm and made his way out of the ship as Mat trailed after while announcing he wanted take some digimas of the destruction.

  Ben watched Cara as she stayed hunched at the now open locker, head hanging low as she breathed rapidly, one hand gripping the edge of the door.

  She could do this. She knew she could. Today had been full of challenges, and this was just one more. Cara tried to slow her breathing and focus on the locker in front of her, but her vision misted as she grew more and more dizzy. The stench of melted resin and burned plastic filled her nose, and her stomach roiled with nausea.

  Ever since she’d seen the full horror of the crash she and Mat had survived, her fear had grown. Somehow the destroyed ship forcibly brought home how precarious her situation was. On her own and responsible for her brother without any protection from anyone else. They’d barely survived. She’d flinched when she’d seen Soren’s twisted and bloodied crash pod. One glance at the gore-spattered cockpit was enough to bring tears to her eyes. The damaged walls seemed to press in on her, and Cara couldn’t pretend strength anymore; she had to escape.

  Turning and stumbling, she rushed past Ben and pushed her way through slippery piles of debris and fire suppression foam to reach the opening and leave the ship. She managed not to trip and fall on her way out and staggered as she tried to run on the soft ground. All she knew was she needed to be far away from the stinking mess of Falk’s s
hip. Mere seconds had kept Mat from dying. Soren was still close to death. Only luck had saved them. Those horrible thoughts echoed in her brain as she made her way to lean on a large cocker trunk and gasped.

  Glancing over at the security ship, Cara was reassured by the sound of Mat’s voice, and she closed her eyes, hoping her head would stop spinning soon and she could resume her guardian duties. She heard movement and jumped to attention as Ben approached her, his brows furrowed.

  “Cara, slow down. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.” His low pitched voice reached some frozen part of her brain, and she wondered if she might collapse. He must have thought the same, because he reached out for her, and she fell against him. Maybe her feet had gotten stuck in the muck or she’d flash-fainted, but suddenly there were strong arms around her shoulders and a solid chest against her cheek, and Cara fell apart.

  Hot tears leaked from her tightly shut eyes as she sobbed all her hurt and fear, jerking out of her body with each cry. She barely heard Ben advise Mat she was going to be fine and he should go back to the flyer before he’d started to rub her back in slow circles. He murmured something in her ear, and she attempted to contain her crying so she could hear him, but the grief hit her again, and she gave up trying to control herself. She’d always been told not to show any vulnerability to strangers, trained to believe outsiders weren’t to be trusted, but she was too weak to maintain that distance now.

  Ben shifted her body against his, and she melted. Sniffling and trying to breathe as he’d instructed, Cara’s heart rate slowed, and she noticed more than her chaotic thoughts. She’d made a mess of his tunic for one, the fabric under her cheek wet from her tears. She’d somehow wrapped one arm tightly around his waist while the other had circled around his shoulder in a very intimate position. Soren would be horrified if he saw her behaving this way with a man. Of course, Soren was a thousand kilometers away and unconscious, so Cara didn’t need to fear his disapproval quite yet.

  It simply felt good to be held, and so she allowed herself the luxury a little while longer. She felt him take a deep breath, his chest expanding as his heavy arms tightened against her. One of his hands brushed against her hair, and she let out a deep sigh, some calm seeping in to replace the panic that had thrown her from the burned ship as if she’d crashed again.

  “You could have stayed aboard the flyer.”

  Taking a sniff, Cara knew she’d have to stand on her own in seconds so she needed to start thinking again, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to control her lower limbs, and she’d fall right into the mud. “I didn’t know I’d react like that. I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing? I shouldn’t have brought you back here.” Ben’s voice was low, but she heard a note of something that confused her. She drew back to look at him, and her arms disengaged from his body. It was proper to take a step back, but her body ached where she’d touched him. Ben watched her with narrowed eyes, his mouth a tight line. “If I’d been thinking, I would have known you might suffer anxiety when you were exposed to this. I was…distracted. I’m sorry.”

  Cara shook her head a little. “Why are you apologizing? We needed to get our things, and it’s hardly your job to act as a butlebot for our luggage.”

  Ben barely shrugged his broad shoulders. “Feeling well enough to get back on board the flyer? I’m sure Mat’s concerned.”

  She nodded and made fruitless attempts to find something in her pockets to wipe her face. She didn’t appear cool and serene now. More like a sloppy mess. Some hygienic tissues appeared in Ben’s hand, and he offered them to her. Wiping her face roughly, Cara focused on him and saw the mess she’d made on his tunic. She reached out and wiped at the damp spot, but his hand caught at hers before she could make contact.

  “Don’t worry about me. Can you get on the ship or do you need some more time?”

  “No. Let’s go. I’d like to leave this place.”

  It was late by the time Ben returned home. Too late to stop by the Belasco’s and make sure they had everything they needed for the evening. He’d returned from their minor expedition to find there had been a domestic dispute between the ever-feuding Emmerts. It had involved heavy equipment crashed in the middle of the street, and there were innumerable witnesses to interview as well as monitoring the medical condition of the two injured parties. That had taken him well into the third shift by the time he’d felt he could leave the station. He was tired and hungry and too keyed up to remedy either. He checked his datfeed and found he had several messages in the queue and that the Belascos had arrived home just after he’d dropped them off after their trip to the crash site. They hadn’t left their suite since.

  Slightly less agitated after learning that, Ben decided to make a sandwich and start watching his messages. Perhaps by the second or third communication he’d be relaxed enough to eat. A bottle of brew might help too. He checked the duty roster and reassured himself there were four experienced officers scheduled that night, so it was very unlikely he’d be called in for anything, and he could have a drink or two. After he placed his meal and beer on the table in front of his display, Ben unfastened his tunic and inspected it. A strand of auburn hair was caught on one of his pips, and he stroked it with a fingertip as he remembered Cara’s anguish that afternoon. He decided not to put the tunic in the laundry bag just yet, and instead, hung it over the back of a chair.

  Settling in to his seat, Ben called up the first message and gave his sandwich an experimental bite. Not bad considering he hadn’t bothered to get supplies for at least a week. Or was it two? He needed to remember to order groceries more often. Had Cara been informed she could order in whatever she and Mat needed? He knew she was reluctant to venture out, so that could be a good choice for them. Ben pulled out his datpad and made a note to mention it to her the next time he saw her. Maybe tomorrow…

  His musings were interrupted when the vid message began and Liliane Frei’s smiling face appeared.

  “Zash! How are you?” She was seated on a dark grey sofa, the edge of a large framed painting visible on the wall behind her. “I’m happy to confirm I’ll be arriving on Gamaliel courtesy of flight two ninety-one of the Horton. By the time you get this, I’ll be on my way.” She curled her legs up and glanced down at a datpad, probably to confirm her information. Lia had worked as the initial construction scheduler on the new congressional projects in Pearl at the same time he had arrived to set up a formal safety services station a year prior. She was so good at her job she’d been reassigned to a very prestigious project a few weeks after arriving. She probably had her vacation planned to the nanosecond with at least four contingency plans every step of the way.

  “Everything is going very well here. Clare is babbling and rolling. You have to see her, she’s so fat!” Lia laughed and called over her shoulder to her partner Colan to bring the baby. Ben hadn’t been surprised to learn Lia was pregnant soon after arriving on Weave to oversee the Herald project. She’d started a torrid affair with a local almost as soon as she’d arrived on Gamaliel, and the man had followed her to Weave when she had to leave. Colan appeared in the frame carrying a plump baby with a white cap on her head. She gurgled and kicked her legs when she saw her mother, and Lia scooped her up with extravagant kisses. Colan leaned down and gave the vid lens a wave.

  “Hey, Zash. Take care of Lia while she’s there.” The other man sauntered away after handing over a cloth to Lia. Colan was a man of few words but steady in a crisis.

  “Here she is, the best baby on Weave. Say hello to Bendix Zashi, Clare.” Lia took one tiny chubby hand and waved it at him, and Ben found himself waving back. Lia looked happy; family life agreed with her. Several times over the course of their friendship, he’d been asked why he hadn’t partnered up with her, and his response was always the same. Lia would have micromanaged him to distraction. The baby gave a squeal and tried to fall headfirst into the table in front of her. Lia caught her automatically, and Colan’s arms reached in and snatched h
er away. He heard some indistinct soothing words, and Lia again focused on the screen.

  “So, I’ll be there on flight two ninety-one. I’ve arranged guest quarters but was hoping you could free up some time to play baccio with me. Maybe we can pull an all-nighter like we used to. I’ve gotten used to going on less sleep because of Clare and Colan.” She smiled widely. “It’s going to be good seeing how the settlement has progressed since I’ve been gone. And Colan doesn’t want me to make jumps when I get pregnant again, so this will be it for at least another year.”

  Ben sat back at that bit of news. Another baby? It seemed as if Clare had just been born. Family life really was agreeing with them.

  “See you soon, Zash. We can talk about your prospects for babies when I get there. Flight two ninety-one.” With that last little reminder, Lia powered off the vid and disappeared. The next message in the queue flashed up, and he left it unopened as he ate another bite of sandwich. It wasn’t very good; just some bland hummus on stale bread. Babies indeed. As if he had time for one of those or to initiate a relationship with a woman in order to progress to such a thing. At least the beer tasted good. It helped wash down the last of the sandwich.

  He decided to view his messages from his mother and brother another time. They’d both be filled with the same gossip, and he was uninterested in paying enough attention to craft an appropriate response to either of them. He leaned his head back against the sofa and wondered if he was relaxed enough to fall asleep.

  His door pinged, and he sat up. A quick glance at his datpad showed there were no new messages about anything urgent, so no one was here to collect him for duty. Sighing, he put down his beer and stood up with a careful stretch of his shoulders. He’d gotten roughed up in the altercation on the street earlier and old injuries were stiffening. A hot shower would do wonders to loosen him up and make him sleepy.