Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount, the order of the words belongs to me.
© Shayenne, January 2009 Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.
Rated R
Written for VAMB's Spring Fling. My match, Quantum Silver, requested, "I'd love a J/Kashyk story. Could be nice, not nice, either way. I'm a lover of darkfic, but an appreciater of the light, too. :D"
Thank you Mary S. and Brianna for the thorough beta read.
He told her she would forget, in time, and she nodded, although she knew that wouldn't happen. Then he offered her a memory realignment; a procedure which would assist with the transition to her new life.
"That's what you give to telepaths," she said. "I'm not a telepath. If I were, I could have avoided this."
His glare was swift. "Do not wish for that, Kathryn, even in jest."
She wondered if he noticed the ambiguity of his reply. She raised her chin and met his gaze. "Our arrangement doesn't extend to my thoughts, Kashyk."
"It doesn't need to," he drawled, and the black-gloved hand lifted to caress the shining strands of russet hair. "I know what you're thinking."
"Be careful; such telepathic behavior will have you transported off to the penal colonies."
"I must show you the penal colonies," he said. "Just in case you're ever tempted to renege on our arrangement."
~ ^ ~ ^ ~
The Devore home world was surprisingly beautiful. Kathryn had expected a dark, shrouded place with an oppressed people, but she found modern cities, with large houses, plentiful parks and open space. There were art galleries everywhere, for artists and musicians were as valued as the food producers.
Kashyk installed her in a large apartment, on the third floor of a small block. It overlooked the sea, and Kathryn started to rediscover the pleasures of time to herself and the sea by her door. In the evening hours, when Kashyk was at home with his wife, she would walk along the shore, enjoying the late sun and the feel of sand grains slipping beneath her bare feet. She would gaze into rock pools, watch the small and silent creatures who lived there, saw how they scuttled and crept, avoiding the attention of the flying predators who also lived along the shore. In a quirk of evolution, these tiny creatures were as brilliantly hued as a Talaxian's jacket, and often Kathryn saw one plucked from the pool by a swooping bird and borne aloft, a struggling jeweled creature.
With time on her hands, she started to run along the beach, increasing both her speed and distance as she became fitter. Strange how, for one who had always shunned solitary exercise, she grew to love the sound of her rasping breath and how strong and free her body felt as she ran along the sand.
But her sense of freedom was an illusion. She was as tied to Devore as the little creatures were to their rock pool.
Kashyk would visit her most days when he was planet-side. He came openly, as if it were a natural thing for the inspector to visit his mistress. He would let himself in without knocking, strutting into her apartment, seeking her out--in the bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom, or in the sunny alcove of the living area where she had her paints and easel.
She would stand and face him, her face composed. After the first time, she never attempted to make him wait while she finished something. The floor still bore the vivid stain of cerulean paint. She kept it there, as it reminded her of the sea, as well as why she should always be available when he might come calling.
Often they would have sex. Often he would reach for her, telling her, with a twist of a smile, to undress and if she weren't quick enough, then he would cut the clothes from her body with the small knife he always carried. And, invariably, her body would betray her and she would respond to his fierce and ardent lovemaking. It had always been within her, that need for elemental attraction, that need to be matched and not simply deferred to. In Kashyk, she found her equal, and their lovemaking often turned into a joust for position, for the upper hand, and who could make the other fly apart into a trillion shining pieces before succumbing to their own pleasure.
And if Kathryn remembered other joyful moments at these times, if her thoughts turned to her past life, the one she used to live as Voyager's captain, those thoughts would fly from her mind as her climax welled up under his skilful hands and thrusting cock. If she thought about that life, if she remembered another's more gentle lovemaking, then she would close her eyes, concentrate anew on the here and now and give herself over to the primal pleasure of his body.
When they lay together, sated in the luminous glow of Devore's two moons, he would sometimes turn to her.
"Are you happy, Kathryn?" he would ask.
She would ponder the question anew each time, without giving him the satisfaction of a swift reply. "Maybe" she would reply, or "Possibly".
Then she would watch him rise, and dress himself with economical movements before donning his black gloves. He was a handsome man, spare framed and lean, and she took pleasure in the play of muscles underneath his pelt.
He rarely stayed the entire night, slipping silently into the shadows in the cool early hours, in contrast to his brazen arrival. Kathryn seldom slept after he left, often donning her shorts and running shoes and going down to the shore to stretch other muscles in a different burn of exercise. Her panties would be sticky and wet by the time she'd jogged to the tide line, but in the sharp salt air, she could no longer smell their coupling on herself.
The little sea creatures were most active at this time of day, darting like fiery shuttles from rock to rock. She would watch them, and then she would wonder about Voyager and her progress through the quadrant. It had been a large price to pay for her crew's freedom, but it had not been a terrible one. She was sure they wouldn't have wasted the opportunity.
Kashyk often gave her gifts. She knew they were stolen from ships he had impounded, telepaths he had deported to the penal colonies, or occasionally bought for her from one of the markets on his world. She enjoyed his gifts, and when he saw this, he redoubled his efforts and sought out brighter baubles or more intriguing scientific curiosities. Her apartment began to resemble a bazaar, draped with rainbow cloths and with items large and small in every corner of the room.
He commented often on the clutter, as he entered her apartment, presenting her with a telescope that allowed her to view more distant star clusters, or rich, dark beans that he promised her tasted exactly like coffee.
And then one day, he gave her a necklace. She turned it in her hands, noting the surprising heaviness of the amber beads, their coolness, and the faintest tremor of vibration as she ran a finger over their glossy surface.
"Beautiful," she said. "What do they do?"
"Do?" He was close to her, already starting to unbutton the heavy leather tunic he wore. "Why, they do nothing. They are purely decorative. Like you."
Her jaw clenched momentarily, and she stayed facing the window until her face was again composed. "Which market did you get them from?"
He shrugged. "One of the farther colonies."
So, he had taken them from an impounded ship. She carefully set them down on the window sill, so that they would catch the morning sun and she could see how they gleamed. Then she turned to him, fingers already removing her close-fitting tunic, peeling the leggings away from her body, until she stood naked in front of him. Her fingers brushed his jutting length, and he wound his hands in her hair, pushing her to her knees. She sank and took him in her mouth, worked him with all the skill she had, until he came in a hot and salty rush. Then she pushed him to the floor, and settled herself over his face, supporting herself on thighs made strong from the running, hovering fractionally out of his reach so that he had to raise his head to tongue her. When he had made her come, arching up into the darkness of the apartment, he was hard again, so she moved down his body, gripping his waist with her muscled legs and sinking down on his cock.
"Kathryn," he groaned, and she smiled into the silent apartment, before slamming her body down and starting the crash of their coupling.
That morning he stayed until the sun had risen. After he left, she brewed some of the beans he'd brought her, and took a mug of the dark liquid down to the shore. Crouching at a rock pool, she watched the little creatures dart and scurry. She found a twig of driftwood, and rested it in the pool, watching as an emerald-jacketed creature appeared fascinated by the intrusion. Kathryn sipped her drink and coaxed the creature farther into the sunlight. When she sat back on her heels, a darting shadow wheeled into her line of sight and the creature was gone, snatched by the opportunistic predator.
Back at her apartment, she showered away the sticky remnants of their coupling, and then sat by the window. The amber beads he'd given her remained on the sill, and she picked them up. Now they were warm to her touch, but the subtle vibration was still there. Her fingers caressed their surface and she closed her eyes, suddenly weary after the night. A picture jumped into her head of alien eyes watching her, and the grief for a family lost. Startled, she opened her eyes, yet the feel of disquiet remained. When she placed the beads down, it faded.
She stared at the beads, thinking.
~ ^ ~ ^ ~
Kathryn took to wearing his latest gift all the time. Kashyk noticed, and drew a long finger around her throat. She felt the beads' vibration against her skin.
"You like these pretties?" he enquired.
"Yes. I like how they make me feel." She regarded him openly, searching for the reaction.
He turned away. "A beautiful woman in beautiful finery. Don't lose your edge, Kathryn. Don't become simply another of my possessions."
The warning was there and she noted it, filing it away in her memory.
Now, after their lovemaking, she seldom went down to the shore. Instead, she lay in the silvery morning light absorbing the information the beads gave her. In flashes of vision, she learned that Kashyk's wife was pregnant, her belly huge. And she knew that Kashyk was repulsed by this, disturbed by the fecundity he had inadvertently created. Kashyk thought more of his mistress now. And she knew that the previous owner of the amber beads struggled through one gray day after another in the penal colonies, and feared for his family. Somehow, she knew too that Voyager was safe, and was nearly seven thousand light years distant, on course for the Alpha Quadrant. Not an insurmountable distance, but one that was getting more so each day. She saw flashes of them: Tuvok, inscrutable as XO, Tom and B'Elanna, Harry, and of course, Chakotay. He seemed to be her connection; she saw the others through his eyes, and she sensed his sorrow at her absence. She wondered if she should care.
Once, she took the beads down to the shore and dipped them into her favorite rock pool, then watched as the little creatures advanced to sense the intrusion. That night, her dreams were of shadows overhead, fear, and then as the shadow moved away, the simple joy of existence.
"You should take these off," Kashyk said to her, fingering the amber beads. "Have I not given you other pretty things?"
"You have," she agreed, "but I especially like these."
"I must take you out to the penal colonies," he mused. "It's time you saw more of our world."
And then she realized that he knew exactly what he had given her. Around her throat she held the essence of both their worlds, and the means to bring them crashing down. If she so chose.
~ ^ ~ ^ ~
Two weeks later, he came again at sundown. Kathryn was at her easel, trying to capture the world as seen by the sea creatures, put into her head by the amber beads. For a few heartbeats too long, she remained at the easel, defying him to destroy her creation.
He moved to stand behind her. "Unusual," he commented. "What is it?"
She wondered if he knew. "Some life forms Voyager encountered once long ago," she said.
He didn't comment on the lie, and so she stood up, fingers reaching automatically for the closures of her dress.
His hand stopped her movements. "Not tonight," he said. "We're going off-world."
She didn't answer, moving instead to her closet. "What should I wear?"
He studied her, and she remained composed as his raking gaze took in her simple blue dress, one of the few that remained from Voyager, one she kept as it reminded her of less complicated times.
"Something bright and new," he said, and turned away as she donned a golden dress that matched the beads.
He took her to one of the penal colonies; in truth, she hadn't expected any different. Instantly she realized why he'd wanted her to wear something colorful: she stood out like one of the little creatures in the rock pool. She sensed the prisoners watching her, assessing her, correctly interpreting her presence as that of the pampered mistress of a high-ranking inspector.
The colony was grim and gray, strangely muted, as if seen through smoky glass. The very air seemed heavy, and Kathryn moved as if pushing against high gravity. When she commented on it to Kashyk, he tilted his head, watching her assessingly.
"It's a dampening field designed to suppress telepathic activity. I'm surprised you can feel it; we established long ago that your race is not telepathic."
She shrugged. "I'm surprised you can't. You must have grown accustomed to it."
He let it pass. "Probably."
Kathryn was used to masking her emotions, and she knew this was both a test and a warning. Display concern or fear, and she had no doubt she'd move one step closer to joining the prisoners. Display a light-hearted indifference, and her standing in his eyes would be enhanced. Deliberately she clasped his arm and gazed around her, not flinching at the misery and hopelessness she saw.
"How long do these people remain here?" she enquired.
"Until they die. Or until they volunteer for our testing. It helps us understand the telepathic mind, the better to subdue it."
There was no need for him to elaborate. The swiftly averted eyes of the telepaths told her that "volunteering" was a one-way route to hell.
"Maybe I could assist with this testing," she said, with studied indifference. "I do have a scientific background."
"Maybe," he said.
They walked through a catacomb of underground cells and work areas where the prisoners worked, hollowing out further cells with rudimentary picks. In one such work area, the amber beads at Kathryn's throat started a slow vibration. It increased as they moved through the cells and work areas, until she felt that the beads would brand her skin. The vibration was so intense, she felt sure it must be visible.
And then they entered another, small cell, and Kathryn saw a rangy alien with wary eyes staring fixedly at her throat. The beads were vibrating with an almost audible hum. She swallowed hard, and forced herself to remain calm, not to meet his eyes.
"I'm hungry," she said, injecting a petulant tone into her voice.
Kashyk flicked a finger at the meager rations of gray bread and gruel on a table in the corner. "Perhaps you'd like to eat here?"
"Why don't we go out?" she challenged. "You never take me anywhere."
It was true, she was his closeted conquest; entertaining her outside of the bedroom was not part of the arrangement.
His smile curled in her direction, and she knew she had fooled him, for the time being at least. "Why not?"
He took her to the grandest restaurant in town, escorting her in with the deference accorded to a wife, not a mistress. Then she knew there was more to come.
As they ate, he told her she would no longer be living in her apartment. Instead, she would be coming to live with him in his house. His house was inland, in the big city blocks. She stifled a momentary pang for the sea creatures she would no longer see, and her solitary runs along the shore.
"And your wife?"
"Did I not tell you?" His complacent gaze said clearly that he knew he hadn't. "She had an unfortunate... accident last month. I am a widower. We will wait the required time, Kathryn, and then we will marry."
To buy herself time, she picked up her wineglass, swirling the golden contents around so that the viscous liquid clung to the glass. The amber beads vibrated softly at her throat.
"It is an honor," she said formally, and knew she needed to come up with a definite plan soon.
That night their joining was of a different sort. He turned her around, bending her over the desk by the window, pushing up her silky dress until it bunched around her waist. He cut her panties away with his small, sharp knife, and merely unzipped himself, pushing into her with one thrust. She was wet and ready for him, so there was no discomfort, but she found she resented his assumption. Her own orgasm eluded her, so after he was spent, and his fingers worked her clit, she noisily faked her release simply to get his hands from her body.
She knew she had to keep him on edge, so when he withdrew, she found her cool, curved dildo and used it to fuck herself to another fantasy climax, before withdrawing it, shining with her juices. One hand turned him around, pressing him over the same desk he had used with her, and spreading his cheeks, she inserted it slowly into his ass.
He hissed, and the shaky "Kath-ryn," told her all she needed to know.
~ ^ ~ ^ ~
His house was large, and she sensed the presence of his wife in every room. This had nothing to do with the beads; indeed the beads seemed strangely still. It was his wife's clothing in every closet, her hair ornaments still scattered over the dresser in the main bedroom.
"What happened to her?" Kathryn enquired, idly turning a jeweled clip over and over in her fingers.
"I told you--an accident."
"What sort of accident?"
His flinty eyes regarded her narrowly. "Kathryn, show some compassion. It disturbs me to talk about it."
She wondered if the wife were dead, or merely in the penal colonies.
~ ^ ~ ^ ~
A few weeks later, he approached her. "Do you still want to volunteer with the testing at the penal colonies? They're willing to have you assist. It's an honor for a gaharay ."
"Thank you," she said formally, and she was glad he couldn't sense the quickening of her heart rate. The amber beads vibrated an urgent beat at her throat. "How will I get there?"
"I'll take you in my shuttle."
"I can pilot myself."
He smiled slightly. "Not yet, Kathryn."
~ ^ ~ ^ ~
The testing was every bit as bad as she'd imagined. But with a stoic face and dissociation techniques learned from Starfleet, she was able to endure.
Two months later, he casually told her she had been allocated a shuttle of her own, and furthermore, it was a long-range one.
"It seems the Imperium values the work you're doing with the telepaths," he said. "Your methods are unconventional, but you're getting better results than our teams, and your subjects have a lower turnover rate."
"You mean they survive longer," she said.
"Precisely. Now the Imperium want you to travel to the farther colonies as well. I'm sure you still have adequate piloting skills."
She smiled at him, and touched his face gently, in a gesture that spoke of affection. For a brief moment, he leaned his cheek into her hand. She thought she might miss him.
That night was the closest they'd ever come to making love. The advance and retreat of power play vanished, and was replaced by a more flowing dance of love. She took her time working her way around his body; his touch was gentle between her thighs. When he entered her, she was wide and wet for him, and her sex closed around him in welcome. He was slow in his movements, and her orgasm rose swiftly.
When it was over, she held his dark head to her breast, stroking his hair. When, she wondered, had he become almost dear to her?
The amber beads showed her Voyager that night. They were now almost eleven thousand light years away. She wondered if she could catch them in her shuttle; she wondered if she even wanted to.
~ ^ ~ ^ ~
The next colony she was assigned to was the one Kashyk had taken her to visit, so long ago. This was what she had been waiting for. Her plan was in place; the lines of communication set up, carefully tested. She just needed to wait for the rangy alien, the original owner of the beads. She knew he was alive--the beads told her so. She could sense his grim tenacity to hang on. That was good; she would need those qualities. She wondered about his home world, and how long it would take to get there.
On the third day the rangy alien was in her testing group. She knew, for the beads' vibration had become almost painful against her skin. She managed to get him alone in a holding cell.
His eyes fixed on her throat. "I know they're yours," she said, urgently, when the guard had left them alone. "I'm going to get both of us out of here. I have a shuttle. Tomorrow we'll go."
He nodded.
"You know you can trust me?"
"The beads tell me what you say is true," he said. It was the first time she'd heard his voice. It was rusty, overlaid with the muted tinge of sadness.
"Then you know how I was given them?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry," she said. "But I can't return them to you. I'm using them to trade for our freedom."
"Freedom." He looked steadily at her. "I remember that. Where will you go?"
Absently, she noted the singular. "We'll find your home world first. Then, I don't know. I captained a ship once..."
The next morning, she pressed Kashyk into the mattress, taking his mouth, taking his breath, and then finally, when touching was not enough, she straddled him, riding him to sticky satiation. The throbbing of her body only abated when he settled himself between her legs, using his mouth to bring her back to a second peak, a violent explosion that left her limp.
As she dressed, he said, "I'll accompany you to the colony today."
She didn't let her fingers pause in dressing. "That will be pleasant. It will make the trip go faster."
Her plan would need some adjustment, but it was not insurmountable.
He rose and stalked toward her, magnificent in his nakedness. A pale finger touched the beads at her throat. "You still wear these constantly. I find I'm tiring of them. I must get you something new."
"I like them," she said, evenly.
She insisted upon piloting the shuttle, merely saying that Kashyk could sit back and enjoy the ride. At the penal colony, they touched down on the landing pad on the roof of the complex, and Kathryn turned to him.
"Will you be returning with me, or via other means?"
"With you, of course."
She swung her legs from the pilot's seat. "I expect to be about seven or so hours. I have some complicated tests to run; they took a long time to set up, I don't want to cut them short."
He inclined his head. "Not a problem."
She had been given a small cell to use as an office and laboratory. Once inside, she removed the amber beads and laid them on the desk. Then she called the security guard who normally brought the prisoners from their cells for her experiments.
"Only one today," she said briskly. "Prisoner number 58474."
The guard brought the rangy alien, the owner of her beads. "Be quick," she told him. "We're going to my shuttle."
It was a short journey to the shuttle, docked on the roof. She ushered him in, releasing the restraints she'd used in case they were challenged once the door closed. "Wait at the back of the cabin," she said. "I have one thing I have to do."
"The beads?" he asked her, and his carefully neutral expression told her that, to him, they were more than an empathic toy.
"I'm sorry," she said, and left before she could change her mind.
The beads were on the desk, where she had left them. Picking them up, she marched down the corridor to the prefect's office. As she had hoped, he was alone.
"Well?"
She laid the beads on his desk. "These were given to me. They are a telepathic device used as a conduit for the thoughts and emotions of those they come into contact with."
The prefect leaned forward, and touched them gingerly.
"They are a dangerous item," she warned. "Handling them leaves you vulnerable to psychic attack. But handling them also allows you to see who has been their previous owner."
"Why did you bring them to me?" the prefect enquired. "Such an item should be destroyed immediately."
"I brought them to you because the imprint of the beads will show you which of your trusted high-ranking inspectors has deliberately used these, knowingly exposing themselves to their effects, courting corruption of the Devore people."
The prefect sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "As have you by handling them."
"I have no formal standing on Devore," she replied. "As a gaharay , I am dependant on the will of my benefactor."
"Are you saying that your benefactor, Inspector Kashyk, is a traitor to the people?"
She met his eyes squarely. "Yes."
"And are you prepared to testify to this effect?"
"I fear my life would be in danger, were I to stay on Devore. In exchange for this information, and the beads, I ask that you let me leave Devore space. I give you my word not to return." Since when, she thought, had betrayal become so natural to her?
"You've already given me the information," he observed. "What is to stop me throwing you in a cell on this very colony?"
"It is my observation that the Devore are an honorable people. You stand to gain more by letting me go than by locking me up. You have already proved I'm not a telepath."
"You wouldn't be missed." One corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "I should take you for my own."
"Another man's discards? That's how it would be perceived. And once Inspector Kashyk is removed for his traitorous behavior, I don't think you'd want to associate with his mistress. It would be impossible to keep that secret; word would get out."
"True." He unlinked his fingers and picking up a pen, rapped it on the desk. "So, you have given me the information to secure a traitor to the people, and in return, I should let you go? Is that correct?"
His smile was too calculated. In an instant, Kathryn knew what was wrong with this conversation. It was too practiced, as if it had all been decided before. Abruptly, a vision of the little sea creatures came into her head, their moment of recoil before the predator's shadow swooped.
She nodded.
"Then, in the interests of hearing the other side... Kashyk, what do you have to say in your defense?"
The man she hated, the man she loved, moved silently into the room from a far door. "It's as I said, prefect. The gaharay lies to make good her escape. And here," he flicked dismissively at the beads, "are exactly the item I showed you previously, the item I said I would use to test her loyalty."
The prefect drew over a recording device. "Well captured, Inspector. Another fine round up to your name." Pressing his thumb on the device, he continued, "You may escort her to her cell yourself."
She drew herself up to full height, and stared the prefect in the eye. "So you condemn me without testing the beads to see the extent of Kashyk's involvement with them? Without seeing for yourself how he embraced their empathic powers? If you truly wish to keep the Devore free from telepathic influence, you owe it to them--and yourself--to check the evidence before condemning me on the word of another."
She saw the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, then it was swept aside.
"Take her away."
Kashyk took her arm in a firm grasp, marched her to the door. "Do I need to restrain you, my dear?"
She turned her head and spat on his shiny boots. "Don't trouble yourself." Shaking his hand from her arm, she preceded him to the door.
As she strode down the long corridor, options ran through her head. She could make a break for it, try and access the shuttle, but she knew that even if Kashyk held his fire now, the shuttle would be destroyed in a flaming arc before she'd cleared the atmosphere. Yet the alien owner of the beads waited for her there--she couldn't abandon him to later discovery. She should never have tried to turn Kashyk in to the prefect. But, at the time, it was the only way she could see to secure safe passage out of Devore space. Without weapons or shields, the shuttle was a sitting duck.
At the intersection of corridors, she paused, turning to her lover, her captor. "Which way?"
Without a word, he gripped her arm and steered her through the maze of twists and turns. At the entrance to the roof hatch that led to the shuttle docks, he paused. The beat of urgency in her chest was painful.
Kashyk inclined his head. "I think, my dear, we'll go this way. After you."
She hesitated, and the knowledge that he planned to shoot her in the back as she exited painted her mouth with the copper taste of defeat. So much easier if she were dead than in a cell.
"You hesitate, Kathryn." His smile was a feral gleam in the shadowy corridor. "You're a clever woman. I think you know why we're going this way."
We. Plural.
"After you," she managed, through dry lips.
"I think not. So that you can flee back to the prefect, and tell him that Inspector Kashyk is defecting with his gaharay cohort? No, after you, my dear."
She grasped his arm and stepped up close to him, searching the face she knew so well. It bore the usual half twist of a smile, and his eyes were intent. "If you think you're coming with me-"
"Did you really think you could go alone?"
"Why now?"
He touched her cheek with his free hand. "I hate to see my little creature trapped here. I know you're not happy, Kathryn. I know when your eyes look inward that you're not dreaming of me, or Devore, or your life here."
"That's very altruistic of you. But I repeat: if you want me to go, I'll go alone." She wished she had the beads to sense how he thought, but they were on the prefect's desk, waiting to be destroyed.
"But you can't, Kathryn. If I let you go, I'm a dead man. We're both going."
"We could have gone at any time we chose; why the subterfuge with the beads?"
"I needed to see where your loyalties lay."
Through dry lips she managed, "Now you know it's not with you. I tried to turn you in."
"Loyalty is a strange beast. You gave your loyalty to my people, rather than to me."
"For my own gain."
"True. Yet a year ago, you put your loyalty to Voyager's crew ahead of your personal desire to remain with them. I think you like the larger causes, Kathryn. I can understand that."
"You let Voyager's crew go free in exchange for me. That's not the same at all; if you truly supported the Devore people, you wouldn't have bartered me for them."
The thrum of the air processing plant reminded her how close was freedom. The shuttle was just outside the hatch. One part of her wanted to trust him, to turn to him and let him lead them outside, fly off into space, free from the threat of Devore patrols. But the pulse of warning reminded her that she had trusted him before, and that trust had been cruelly betrayed. She had paid a price to him once, and while it was not as unbearable as she had feared, she didn't want his noose around her neck again.
His lip curled, and he took a step toward her. His hot breath feathered over her face, and his fingers ran down her arm to wrap around her own. "We can stand and debate this if you want, but I don't see you have an option. You can leave with me now, or you can return to the prefect and ask that he personally put you in a cell."
He was right. But the feeling that her fate was out of her control was a disquieting one. She suppressed a shiver. Options ran through her head. He had a weapon; if she could seize that, the odds would be in her favor And there was the alien. If she could alert him to hide in the craft, there was the element of surprise.
She didn't let herself think about missing him, about how his body felt against hers. Now he was the anchor around her ankles.
The door of the shuttle hissed open, and she preceded him into the dark interior. Now was her best chance, before his eyes could adjust from the brightness outside. Whirling, her booted foot connected with his body, and he staggered, momentarily off balance. Her hand reached for his hip, where she knew he kept his weapon. Her fingertips brushed cold metal, and she seized it, dropping to a fighting crouch and aiming it at her lover.
The answering glint of metal pointed back at her. He'd had a second weapon. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Kathryn? I think you should stop fighting me and remember the good things. After all, we will have only each other now."
His aim moved, and a single blast of fire scorched the air beside her head. With a grunt, the alien tumbled down to the floor, in a slump of disjointed limbs. His eyes were frozen in a rictus of surprise.
"Don't even think about trying to fool me, Kathryn," Kashyk said. "I know your thoughts; I know your dreams."
The sharp keen of sorrow at another pointless death on her hands. Kashyk pushed the corpse to one side with his boot. "He was scheduled for execution next week anyhow. He'd served his purpose supplying the beads."
She stared at him, seeing her lover, remembering Voyager, hoping they flew free through the Delta Quadrant bound for Earth. She had made her choice a year ago. Deliberately she focused on the times that had given her pleasure: their conversations, the way their minds sparked off each other, the leaps of knowledge they made together, the pleasure of intelligent debate, of science unfurled and explored. The sex and the way her body responded to his.
With a shuttle and free passage out of Devore space, what couldn't they achieve?
Stepping over the alien's body, she moved closer to him, settling her arms around his waist, leaning in for the touch of firm, thin lips on hers. Her body thrummed at the press of muscled thighs, at the branding press of his cock, rigid as duranium, against her belly. She was melting, liquid with memories and imaginings of how he could take her later. How he would press her thighs apart, move between them, thrust his way into her body. How full and satisfied he made her feel.
Kashyk kissed her hard, then raised his head. "I knew you would see reason. Together, we can achieve anything we want. Alone, you wouldn't escape Devore space. Together we're stronger."
His eyes glittered with possession and lust.
"Together we're stronger," she echoed, and her fingers curled around the weapon she still held.
She thought she would always remember his look of surprise as she raised her weapon and shot him between the eyes.
(((FIN)))
Feedback? Please. Shayenne
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