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  David expected the sun to hide, however, as a cloud of agitation followed the two contractors into the area.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” He left Mari and Sean, the ship’s mech tech, to handle the final pallet of supplies while he met the black-clad members of the Embassy’s policing force further up the boardwalk.

  The man on the left David recognized as Killian Doje because of the extra cender strapped to his thigh—as though just two of the incendiary pistols couldn’t obliterate a crowd of people when dialed up to full energy.

  But David wasn’t worried…yet. Technically he was using the berth with the dockmaster’s permission, but the bottle of Koley’s bourbon David had given the official might not be sufficient incentive for him to stay on David’s side when push came to shove. And knowing Killian, there would be a little shoving.

  Killian and David’s brother Ben had had a run-in last year at a bar here at the Hub. What was the name of that overpriced dive? The Atlas or Atlatl or something that started with At. Though David had been there when Ben and Killian went at it, and eventually jumped in by his brother’s side, the likelihood of the contractor remembering him was remote.

  David could stave off this confrontation a bit longer by making them come knocking at the ship’s gangway, but he’d rather meet them halfway than invite trouble into his home. Though he still hadn’t settled into the idea that this pleasure cruiser turned science vessel was home. Maybe in another few weeks.

  “Anlow, how’s your brother? Did he jump ship, too?” Killian’s voice was smooth and confident. “Or were you the only one to abandon the fleet?”

  The fleet jab got under David’s skin—his retirement had only gone through a few months ago and it wasn’t exactly sitting well with him.

  “I didn’t think you’d remember me. Guess you do have a brain somewhere in that soft head of yours.”

  Must have seen my name on the entry request. That meant this was a personal vendetta and not an Embassy affair, which worked to David’s advantage. He could take on a couple of grudge-carrying contractors, but not formal charges of trespassing.

  “This isn’t your berth,” Killian said.

  “You can have it back when we’re done.”

  “Move your ship.”

  “When I’m ready.”

  The other contractor with Killian put a hand to one of his cenders. He looked a few years younger than Killian, probably on a training run and jumpy as a cornered cat. Though David knew Killian had enough sense not to draw in public unless under a bodily threat, he couldn’t be sure of the young protégé. Many Armadans underestimated contractors—David didn’t. They might not have as much bulk, but their martial arts training gave them a powerful punch. And they had Embassy law on their side.

  “Ward.” Killian shot a warning look at his charge.

  “You back on babysitting duty, Killian? Thought the Embassy would have promoted you by now. Didn’t you have another boot stepping on your heels that night my brother kicked your ass?”

  David looked at Ward to see if the derogatory slur for rookie hit the mark. The twitch in his jaw said it did.

  “You’re lucky to have this guy,” David continued, speaking to Ward. “When my brother started wailing on the kid, Killian jumped right in and took a beating alongside him.”

  “No one takes a beating for me.” Ward clamped both hands on the grips of his cenders.

  Contractors and their guns. They were like an extra appendage for most. And this particular contractor was playing David’s game perfectly. If he could wind Ward up—and not get shot in the process—Killian would have a wild recruit on his hands and leave David and the Bard to their own devices.

  “Yeah, that’s what the other guy said. But that wasn’t what set my brother off. Come to think of it, I can’t even remember what the fuss was all about that night. Do you remember why we beat the shit out of you, Killian?” David asked.

  Killian’s hands moved to his cenders.

  So maybe David had gone a little too far.

  “David’s a better pilot than that last guy,” Mari said, gripping the handle of a knife from the ship’s galley. She’d been nervously trying to engage Sean in conversation since David left to confront the contractors. From the bottom of the Bard‘s covered chartreuse gangway they watched the testosterone levels rising from forty meters away. Her stomach flip-flopped when David raised his voice.

  “Don’t you think so? That he’s a better pilot?” Mari prompted again. Talking was the only way to hide her anxiety. A trait she had honed as a child and brought with her into adulthood. She even talked to herself or thought out loud if no one else was around.

  The glare from the surrounding waters of Carrey Bay and the heat shimmering from the dark grey concrete stamped in the shape of a real wooden boardwalk gave the scene the appearance of being filtered through glass. But unlike staring from behind a closed window, Mari could experience the world of Tampa Quad’s largest dock all around her.

  The boats blasted their horns and spaceship engines screeched and boomed overhead. And the smells…. She enjoyed the aromas from restaurant row across the way, but the berth itself smelled stale. Spilled fuel and exhaust from a faulty filter system mixed with the fishy-ness of the bay at low tide. At least Sean smelled good. His earthy scentbots brought a hint of freshness as he stepped closer to her to get a better view of David and the contractors.

  “I know you didn’t like the last guy,” Mari said. “Neither did I.”

  She sucked in a breath when one of the contractors closed in.

  “Because he wouldn’t flirt with you?” Sean’s deep voice remained even, but his focus stayed riveted to David’s confrontation.

  “Who?” Mari asked, trying to loosen the death grip she had on the knife.

  “The last pilot.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  Sean was humoring her. And she would let him because her stomach was in knots.

  “You won’t flirt with me either, and I still like you. At least most of the time. You’d think after eight months of living together, you’d be a little more open.”

  “We share space on the Bard,” Sean corrected. “We don’t live together.”

  “Same thing. And that’s exactly the kind of remark I would expect from someone who hides behind walls and won’t even engage in harmless flirting.”

  He probably wasn’t listening, but it soothed her to talk.

  “I’m not the flirting type,” Sean said in a half-hearted response.

  “No kidding.”

  Even after they kissed that time he hadn’t made any advances toward her. And that was too bad because it was a good kiss. She studied Sean’s thin lips as she thought about it. As usual, dark blonde stubble encircled his mouth and edged up his jaw and down his chin to his neck. In fact, she had never seen him clean-shaven. David always shaved, kept himself well-groomed in general, even his t-shirt and fatigues were crisp, not like the rumpled workers’ pants and faded blue t-shirt Sean wore.

  Mari had been making comparisons between the two men since David walked on board a few weeks ago. Sean was the guy she used to want, but now all she thought about was David Anlow. He’d even taken the place of Sean as her best friend aboard ship. Because David always cared about what she had to say—and she usually had a lot to say.

  She bent down to cut the thick plastic which was vacuum-sealed over the final pallet of food supplies delivered this morning. But her attention kept flickering back to David. He had come to their rescue and now paid the price. Down to crackers and crumbs after the Embassy delayed their supply run by two weeks because a fire destroyed a third of Shiraz’s berths, David finagled this spot. Apparently the contractors had taken exception to him borrowing a berth space.

  Standing a head and a half taller than the men squaring off around him, David Anlow dominated the scene in simple navy blue fatigues and a grey t-shirt with the fleet insignia of six globes arching around the silhouettes of crossed battle rifles. His
hands rested on his hips, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders. The contractors’ hands hovered near the weapons strapped to their thighs. That unnerved her.

  “David’s not the flirting type either,” she said, picking back up on her conversation with Sean in an attempt to lighten her anxiety. It was a half-truth because David never flirted with her in front of the others, but he was finally warming up to her when they were alone. “He was an officer in the fleet,” she said. “That’s why he’s teaching me how to co-pilot the ship. He says all the crew should know how, just in case.”

  “We’re not crew, we’re passengers,” Sean said. “And you’re the only one he’s giving private lessons to.” Sean had forgotten about the pallet completely, his focus riveted to the scene ahead.

  “Maybe he’s just being nice to me. Did you ever think of that?” She would admit that David’s good natured jokes held some innuendo, though always safely ambiguous, and he found reasons to touch her almost constantly when they were alone. Innocent little brushes of her hair or a hand at her elbow, but even the casual touches lingered. Of course, she made sure to invent excuses to see him as often as possible.

  “I can tell how nice he wants to be by the way he looks at you,” Sean said.

  That remark made Mari’s skin tingle. She couldn’t tell if Sean was teasing her or being honest. If she didn’t know him better, she’d think the comment was made out of jealousy, but that wasn’t in Sean’s nature.

  As for David giving her appraising stares, she’d noticed all right. But Mari noticed everything David Anlow did—how his pupils dilated when their gazes met, how his body language was always open and inviting, all the signals they were taught to be aware of when seeking a partner. Granted, she may not have taken the advanced classes in courtship and coupling at school, but she knew enough to know when a man was interested. That’s how she knew Sean wasn’t.

  For Mari, however, her attraction to David went beyond his obvious physical attributes. It was also the fascination of meeting an actual Armadan captain—well, retired captain.

  “Why did David quit the fleet so early?” she asked. “In the past three weeks I’ve heard all about his four brothers, his sister, even his parents and their family estate in the Koley Mountains on Yurai, but he always keeps quiet about his time in the fleet.”

  “I’ll ask him next time we sit down for a beer together.”

  Sean’s sarcasm dropped heavy like Mari’s stomach when she watched two more contractors, a male and a female, pop out of the stone and glass security kiosk a dozen meters from David.

  She pulled in a deep, nervous breath, filling her nose with Sean’s clean scent. David didn’t have scentbots, but like the other Armadan who lived aboard the Bard, David’s skin had a natural, subtle scent which reminded her of green tea leaves. She’d do anything to have him close enough to smell right now and far away from the threatening contractors.

  “You should be nicer, a little more respectful,” she chided Sean, but her speech was slow and pitchy, no longer able to hide her apprehension.

  “Why?” Sean asked. “Because he’s my elder?”

  She thought she caught a twitch at the edge of Sean’s mouth. So maybe he was teasing her, trying to take her mind off the escalating scene in front of them.

  “Because,” she said. “He convinced the dockmaster to give us a berth space even though Shiraz wanted to put us off for another week.”

  Sean remained unimpressed.

  “We could have starved.”

  “We wouldn’t have starved,” Sean said in that apathetic tone that he knew irritated her.

  He was probably right, though, considering the number of small docks within a few hours’ ride via a terrestrial or aquatic transport. “Well, we would have had to shuttle all of this stuff hundreds of kilometers. Or buy all new supplies, and some of us don’t have a lot of money to spare.”

  Sean didn’t say anything to that, having spotted her for the rent on her suite for the second month in a row.

  “Besides, this berth is nice. So close to all the activity that we don’t even need to take a transport or monorail to be in the middle of it all. It’s just a walk or a ferry ride away.”

  Then she added, “David’s just a little older than you.” Which was a stretch because Sean was around thirty or thirty-five or something, and David’s formal Embassy bio put him four months shy of sixty, though most people wouldn’t have guessed it by looking at him.

  “Try twice as old as me.”

  “He’s not even middle age, and have you seen him with his shirt off?”

  Sean’s expression said that that was the last thing he was thinking about.

  “His body is fantastic.” She couldn’t stop the volley of nervous words coming out of her mouth. “I guess the physique is an inherited Armadan trait. We didn’t have any Armadans around where I grew up. Geir was the first Armadan I ever met, although he isn’t as muscled as David, so maybe it’s the military training. Do you know why Geir became a scientist instead of joining the fleet? That’s more of a Socialite job. I never wondered about that until David came on board.”

  Sean’s posture tensed as the latest arrivals strode closer to David.

  “I know you’re itching to be in on this fight,” Mari said. “Why don’t you go over there? David would probably appreciate the back up.” Though maybe he didn’t need any just yet, the way the contractors stayed out of his reach.

  When David raised his voice and an arm in objection to something the closest man said to him, all four contractors casually pulled their cenders from their thigh holsters and held the weapons at their sides.

  Mari nudged Sean’s arm. “Okay, you really should go over.”

  “One more person in the mix won’t be good for anyone. Besides, David knows they won’t fire their cenders,” Sean said.

  “How does he know that? How do you know that?”

  “Too many voyeurs hanging around and taking in the action.” He gestured to the half dozen small floating balls of telescoping cameras and directional microphones that gathered in a circle above the uneasy scene.

  A white gull attempted to land on one voyeur which had been hovering patiently over the area, but the bird thought better of it when two cameras extended from the voyeur in a fast snap.

  Giant Media screens perched above the docks from well-positioned kiosks picked up the live feed and broadcasted the confrontation for not only those within the immediate vicinity, but also on several channels across the system. Had Mari’s family been tuned into these particular channels out of the millions available, they would be able to see the man she was so enthralled with—thick, dark hair, prominent jawline, and long legs extending from a perfect backside. When David forced one of the contractors to back up ever so slightly, Mari’s heart beat a little faster.

  His confidence amazed her. She wanted to command control of a situation, any situation, like he did.

  Raised voices reached her ears from the scene in front of her the same time they echoed from the nearest Media screen. “You need to move your ship out now.” It was one of the original male contractors speaking. His ebony hair and brows matched his clothing. Like all contractors he was perfectly beautiful with olive skin and icy blue eyes.

  The shot switched to David, whose features were more masculine than delicate. “As soon as we inventory our supplies. I’m thinking that could take a couple of days.” His slight accent came through in the way he pronounced his vowels.

  The camera zoomed in on his face and Mari took a deeper breath. His tan skin stretched over a square jaw and angled planes, though the screen didn’t do his eyes justice. There they looked like the pale grey of the winter sky back in her home territory, but they held a slight tint of deeper blue if you got close enough to notice, and she’d been close enough plenty of times.

  “What the hell is he talking about?” Sean grumbled. “I’m not staying here just so he can prove a point. I have stuff to do.”

  Sean always
had stuff to do. He had a brilliant mind, especially when it came to the ship’s systems and techy gadgets, probably why they called him a mech tech, but Mari believed Sean’s intelligence was his biggest enemy. He thought too much and tried to lose himself in his work or the virtual arena of the V-side to avoid interacting in the real world. And he hated to be docked here at the Embassy Hub. Mari found it exciting to be in the middle of the busiest city in the system—well, usually.

  She was already worried about losing another client this week, adding to her mounting financial problems, and today’s situation compounded her nervous energy, yet no one else paid the slightest attention to what was happening. The bustle around Shiraz never slowed for anything.

  Another exchange between David and the contractors played on the Media screens. Among the frenzied music dubbed over the scene to add excitement, Mari heard David say, “The way you’re stroking that piece makes me think Killian here should be watching his ass.”

  The contractor leveled his pistol at David. Mari’s mouth went dry.

  David ignored the cender and stuck his finger in the younger guy’s chest, bending down to face him. His voice echoed from screen to screen. “You keep pointing that weapon at me and I’ll show you how to use it.”

  Mari’s focus bounced from David and the contractor to their images augmented on the Media screens. She missed whatever David said next, but suddenly all but one contractor had a gun pointed at him.

  Sean snagged the knife from Mari’s hand and tucked it discreetly against his side as he walked down the boardwalk toward the action.

  That pissed them off.

  David’s verbal sparring with the armed group had taken a turn for the worse. Maybe he shouldn’t have used the word inbred, but they did like to keep it within the family. It would have been a good insult even if the voyeurs hadn’t broadcasted it loud and clear for the whole system to hear. He could have thrown in illegal gene manipulation, but that would have just been petty.