The Canopus Conundrum, page 10
Kovis resisted the temptation to say, “Which one?” and instead shrugged. “Amongst other things, I think,” he said.
“How awkward for you,” she said, and put one hand on her back. “Gosh, do Elite babies always kick like mules?”
“I ... really don’t know the answer to that,” he said, somewhat bemused, and she laughed.
“Sorry, Colonel. Flight commander brats apparently come with hob nail boots.” She patted the bulge of her stomach.
Finding the conversation uncomfortable, Kovis nodded to her and turned away. He wondered what people would think if they knew Nashira had made a move on him, once, years ago when they’d been posted to Kethryn. He’d declined, of course; he’d known there was no real spark between them. She’d gone on trying for a while, but then had been swept off her feet by Lieutenant Decrus, latterly captain of the Gemin, the star cruiser that had stayed behind at Meridiana to protect the fleet from pursuit by the apparently omnivorous aliens who’d attacked them there.
Once outside the bridge, he slowed his pace, trying to decide whether to return immediately to the Canopus alone, or wait a day and see whether Glory was fit enough to accompany him. He would really have preferred not to take her back there if she might be in danger, but she’d been determined and he was finding it difficult to think of an excuse to exclude her that didn’t insult her professional abilities.
Kovis stopped off at one of his favourite eateries, the Just Drop In, for a quick bite to eat, and then returned to his quarters, where he sat down at his desk. He smiled at the realisation that the chair didn’t squeak and contemplated ordering some oil to take back to the Canopus, but decided it was unlikely he’d be there long enough for it to be worth the effort. Let Captain Windwist oil his own chairs!
He stretched his legs out and leant back. The room, which had belonged to Flight Lieutenant Zaran until he moved to bigger quarters when he matched with Cristal, was adequate for a single man. He had a desk, a bed, and enough bookshelves for his collection of tillandsia, displayed in an eclectic selection of bottles, glass bowls and terrariums. His thoughts drifted to Gloriana Duvall, wondering what she’d make of his hobby. He had to admit to himself that the prefect had somehow, without apparent intent, breached his defences.
His mind replayed a montage of her moods – angry, intent, interested, relaxed, smiling ... her wide eyes, her gaze fixed on him, her pulse beating under his thumb. When her suit alarm had triggered, he’d practically thrown himself protectively across her body, hearing Komin swear as the twisted heap of discarded machinery teetered. Kovis had tucked his head down and braced himself as the tripod that had prevented them from being crushed finally gave way – and then Komin was there, his heavy worlder strength allowing him to heave up and discard item after item, until the awful weight had lifted from Kovis’s back. He’d straightened painfully, breathing a sigh of relief. And then he’d looked down at Glory’s silent form and come close to panicking. She’d been so pale and still, her normally animated face like a mask, her bob of bright red hair plastered against her skull by dust and sweat, her lovely eyes closed ...
Perhaps, he mused, he was attracted to her because she hadn’t tried to flirt with him or flatter him. Several times, she’d been insubordinate and even rude, but ... now he wanted her to flirt. He wanted her to look at him and like what she saw.
He was dozing, half asleep where he sat, when the door entry chimed. Expecting it to be Nashira, he sighed, ran a hand through his hair noting absently that it was going to need cutting again soon, and went to open it.
Standing outside, looking unaccountably nervous, was Glory. For one moment he wondered whether thinking about her had summoned her up, or whether he was still asleep. He tried to think of something witty to say, but managed only, “Yes?”
“May I come in?” she asked.
He swallowed and stepped back, allowing her to enter. The door slid shut behind her, and all of a sudden the room felt very small.
There was a short silence. Glory, clad in a plain robe, looked uncomfortable, and he wondered what it was she’d come to say. He hoped she wasn’t about to resign; he’d be very disappointed in her if that was the case.
He cleared his throat. “So, Medwen discharged you from sick bay?”
“She did,” Glory said. “I came to ask you some questions.”
He nodded encouragingly. Obviously, she was going to ask about the Canopus, and that was all right. He could answer that question. He could do this.
“Why ...?” She hesitated, and then looked him in the eye. “Why did you answer my question?”
He froze, unsure he could ever answer that. He wasn’t entirely sure he knew the answer himself. He considered, ‘which question?’ but that would be dishonest. He knew exactly which question she meant. He considered ‘I don’t know’ or ‘it was the first thing I thought of to talk about’, but in the end said simply, “Because you asked.”
She nodded, her expression serious. “And why ... when I told you that I’d been threatened,” she went on, “why were you so angry?”
He felt he was on safer ground here. “Nobody should go around threatening anyone,” he said firmly.
He knew immediately that had been the wrong answer, the safe answer, from the way her gaze dropped away from his. “Why am I even here?” she mumbled, and half turned to leave.
She’d come for answers, he realised, and what he’d given her were safe platitudes. He realised that if he didn’t say something to save the situation, he’d lose her before he’d even found out if he’d got her. “You’re here,” he said, going for broke, “because it’s where we both want you to be.”
She turned back and looked up at him, uncertain, and he let himself close the gap between them, careful of her acceptance before he touched his lips to hers, hesitantly, unsure of receiving a welcome. Her lips parted under his, and he gathered her in, his hands on her waist. She felt good; she felt right.
“Your leg ...” he said, pulling back.
“It’s fine,” she said, tugging him back towards her.
“If you’re sure ...”
“I’m sure.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Glory was discharged from sick bay in the late afternoon. Medwen had gone off duty; it was Doctor Janis who did the final checks on the status of her leg.
“The repair looks good,” she said. “You should be able to walk fairly normally, but don’t overdo things. If you feel anything more than an ache, or if the read–out starts to flash, call for assistance. Don’t try to walk back, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Glory said.
“I note from your records that you’ve been eating well today.” Janis peered at the overhead read outs. “That’s a product of the tissue regeneration, of course. You’ll probably find you’re very hungry for the next few days, and it won’t hurt to eat what you fancy. You can worry about any extra pounds once you’re healed up.”
Glory refrained from commenting that she’d been through exactly this routine altogether too recently. “Understood.”
“I’m afraid we had to cut your safesuit off you. Doctor Medwen placed an order for a replacement and told me she was going to drop it off at your quarters on her way back to her own. It should be waiting for you when you get back. There’s a full-length sickbay robe on the back of the door, and your boots are tucked under the bed. We’d be grateful if you could return the robe later.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, one last thing: Doctor Medwen said she’d call you later this evening, just to check how you’re getting on. It may be quite late – she’s on the night shift at the moment, as you may have realised.”
“Do you get many patients overnight?” Glory asked curiously.
“We have a couple of residents.” Janis shrugged. “And just lately the late shift has been busy. People are unhappy, and sometimes fights break out. Not all the patients end up here, of course, but not all the ships in the fleet have fully trained medics, so we have an on-call doctor to talk them through anything they’re not sure about. Now, do you want me to help you get dressed?”
“I think I can manage.”
“Remember you must keep the regeneration sleeve on until we’re happy things have settled down,” Janis said. “You’re not ready to go back on duty, so do your best to rest for at least another day. Medwen has advised the lord chief justice that he should not allow you to go back on duty for three days.”
“But Colonel Kovis needs my assistance on the Canopus,” Glory protested.
“I think the colonel is quite capable of watching his own back for a few days,” Janis said. “If he’s worrying about your leg giving out on you, he’s not going to be focussed on his assignment. I’ve got to tell you, Prefect,” she added, glancing around as if to make sure they were alone and lowering her voice, “that if Admiral Nashira doesn’t get the fleet moving soon, there’s going to be real trouble. There are all kinds of rumours going around about why we’re still at sublight, most of which are complete and utter fabrication. But there’s been more than enough time to fill the ore carriers and check over every ship in the fleet, so of course the rumours start. I overheard one refugee telling someone that he believed the Elite had no intention of going back to Union space, but were planning to found a new Empire. I don’t think he knows how long it takes to decently terraform a planet!”
Glory didn’t like to admit that she didn’t know the answer to that either. “You’re probably right,” she temporised, then put on the plain robe and fastened her boots.
She gave her thanks to Doctor Janis, promised to try to avoid breaking her leg again, and set out to walk back to her quarters. At first, she was tentative, but she found that her leg felt almost as good as new. It ached – but then, it always had, ever since she broke it the first time when she’d fallen off a wall whilst trying to detain an arsonist.
She followed signs to the central atrium and hopped a belt headed towards her quarters. Looking at the businesses that lined the area reminded her how very different the Atria was to the Canopus. If you didn’t take into consideration the fact that the star cruiser was home to most of its residents, it seemed excessively luxurious, and she wondered if that was one of the reasons the Elite were resented. Misunderstood, she thought, and realised her own less than favourable opinions had changed now that she’d spent time working alongside them.
She left the belt close to the corridor that led to her quarters and stopped to rest for a moment, leaning against the wall and breathing in the heady scent of a potted jasmine. The ship’s hydroponics unit did a good job, she thought, growing such whimsical plants alongside the essential food stuffs. She hoped the fleet’s shortages wouldn’t lead to a reduction in the greenery that graced the atrium.
She realised, standing there, that Medwen was right. If she was going to go on working with Kovis, she was going to have to confront him about the apparent tension between them. If she was imagining it, better to be embarrassed and apologetic than to go on fantasising over something that was never going to happen.
She sighed. How could she go on working with him if she didn’t know?
And worse: how could she go on working for him if she did?
She had, she thought, spent an awful lot of recent years running away. Not finding out one way or another was just another kind of avoidance tactic. She had to find out the truth, and whatever that was, adjust to it.
Of course, first she had to find out where he was. It occurred to her that the Atria net would probably be able to tell her, and when she checked she found that he was tagged as being in his quarters. She was a little surprised to find he wasn’t housed in the guest suite, although that would have meant the possibility of her running into Admiral Nashira, and she rather thought that wouldn’t have gone well. She hopped back onto the travel belt and let it carry her closer to the control room, where the officers’ quarters were located.
By the time Glory reached the right place, she was absolutely certain she was making a huge mistake. Nevertheless, before she could change her mind, she pressed the entry chime. Kovis opened the door. He looked tired and rumpled, and over his shoulder she saw that the bed was neat and tidy but the desk chair was pushed back – had he been asleep in it? His short hair was sticking out in places, and she resisted the urge to reach out and pat it back into place.
She had rehearsed her questions on the way. Why had he told her about his past? And why had he got so emotional about her being threatened on the Canopus? Surely the answer to one or other of those questions would clarify his interest in her.
Her heart sank when the answers he gave were brief and neutral. She’d thought to ask a third question, a direct question about whether she was imagining the tension between them, but lost her nerve.
And then he actually kissed her. Glory couldn’t quite believe it, but she wasn’t about to let the opportunity go to waste. She reciprocated enthusiastically. It was as if his admission that he desired her opened the floodgates.
One kiss followed another, and then he was extracting her from her robe and she was fumbling with the fastenings on his safesuit, and they were on the bed, which was small, but that really didn’t seem to matter. Medwen had been right about something else, too, Glory discovered: when roused, her colonel could indeed be quite a tiger.
Later, when they were still, Kovis murmured, “That was ... unexpected – delightful. And I’m a beast. You’ve only just got out of sick bay. Your leg ...”
“Is fine,” she assured him. “You were careful.”
“I tried.” He traced the line of her hip with his fingertips. “I don’t want to hurt you. And Doctor Medwen will have me up on charges if I’ve undone any of her repair work.”
She opened her mouth to say something indignant, and then saw that he was teasing. “I would’ve stopped you if you had,” she said instead. “But this seemed ... right?”
He drew her in for a long kiss, and then lay back with a sigh. “The trouble with being handsome,” he said, “has always been that women tend to throw themselves at me. When I was younger, I caught a few, but ... after a while I learned to stop catching them and to say no, politely.
“Did I just ...?”
“No. Yes. It’s not the same.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“I wanted to catch you.”
She thought about asking him why, but wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. Maybe this would be just like some of her previous experiences – a one night stand, something that seemed very right at the time but which looked different the morning after. She was determined, whatever happened, not to be disappointed. They had been too good together for regrets.
“I ... thought you did,” she said finally. “And I figured I ought to find out, one way or the other. I mean, otherwise we might have danced around each other for days. It would have made us both ... inefficient.”
He chuckled. “You know what makes you unusual?” he asked.
Glory considered. “I have no idea,” she finally admitted.
“You’re very easy to talk to.”
That might be the case – he certainly seemed to want to talk to her – but Glory realised she wasn’t sure she was ready to listen. Her life, up until now, had been a disaster, and this – this really did seem too good to be true. She needed time to think about it, she realised. Time to figure out whether this was just about sex, or whether there was something more that connected them.
She found herself yawning. “I’m supposed to be resting,” she said apologetically.
He tucked her firmly against him. “Then rest.”
Some time later, Glory was awakened by an insistent beep, which she drowsily identified as someone trying to contact her via her wristcom. Kovis was still asleep, his arm draped across her, and she yawned, wondering who would be calling her so late ... and then gasped, remembering what Janis had told her. In something of a panic, she carefully extracted herself from the bed, gathered up her robe and dashed into Kovis’s fresher, closing the door. She took a moment to slip on the robe and run her hands through her hair before answering the call. She was too flustered to remember how to turn off her visual.
“Oh, there you are,” Medwen said, her holo popping up above the wristcom. “Or should I say, where are you? I came by your quarters to check how you’re doing, and you’re not there. I was worried you might have passed out somewhere.”
“I’m fine,” Glory said, feeling her face heat. “I’m not in my quarters,” she added, knowing she was stating the obvious.
“So where are you?” Medwen asked. “It looks like a fresher,” she observed.
“Not in my quarters.” Glory cast around desperately for something sensible to offer about her actual location and came up empty.
“Oh,” Medwen said, and chuckled. “Oh dear ... I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I was going to take your blood pressure, but unless you’re feeling faint, it can wait until morning. Just tell me you’ve not done any further damage to your leg and I’ll leave you in peace.”
“My leg’s fine,” Glory said. “It aches a bit, but it’s fine. Really. Um, I can come by sick bay in the morning so you can check ...?”
“Good idea,” Medwen said, and grinned. “I’ll be on duty until lunch time. I shall look forward to seeing you.”
Oh dear, Glory thought as Medwen’s holo vanished again. Medwen was showing far too much interest in her relationship status, and whilst it was probably too late to issue a denial, she certainly wasn’t about to give the doctor a blow-by-blow account.
“Your leg is delightful,” Kovis murmured from behind her. “As is the rest of you. Am I to take it that Medwen just guessed where you are?”
“Um.” She looked round at him guiltily. He was standing naked in the fresher doorway, his arms folded, his face unreadable in the gloom. “I think so,” she admitted, trying not to visibly admire his musculature, which was ... definitely admirable.
