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  He stood. “It’s not as if we don’t have plenty of time around here.”

  She watched him through slitted eyelids as he crossed to a cabinet. What was it about Raven that made women willing to fight over him—other than his having a body to kill for, that is? He had a certain amount of charm, beautiful eyes, and a nice mouth, but his face wasn’t really anything to write home to the empress about.

  She blushed when he turned around and caught her staring.

  His only comment was “That’s some hangover you’ve got there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I ought to put Siler and his partner to work on coming up with something useful—maybe a poison that’ll take out the Kril instead of my own people.”

  Zoe pulled out her datapad. “Actually, sir, they reprogrammed this for me. It’s now quite useful for recording the alien cultural reports you asked for.” She spoke slowly and carefully, lucidity having to fight hard to get through the headache.

  He grunted, and held out his hand. “Take this.”

  She accepted the pill he offered, but only pretended to swallow it, slipping it into a pocket when she put the datapad away. She never, ever took drugs if she had a choice. She’d let fear, the darkness and nameless frustration get the better of her. All right, the frustration wasn’t nameless and he was standing right in front of her, but proximity didn’t matter. Or excuse the weakening of her self-control. What was wrong with her she had done to herself, and she would live with the consequences. Besides, her own med implants would kick in to numb the pain eventually even though she wasn’t going to consciously activate them.

  “Better?” said Raven after he watched her for a couple of minutes. He’d been staring at her as intensely as she’d been looking at him, but at least he was open and unashamed about it.

  She ignored several forms of discomfort, forced a bright smile and nodded.

  “Then have a seat and get on with telling me everything I need to know about the Asi. And don’t look around like that, sarcasm does not become you. I know I said I was going to do this in a staff meeting but after the Morgan incident I’ve decided to keep any attempts at peace negotiations with the enemy between you and me.”

  She didn’t understand his reasoning, but decided not to question it. At least not until her headache was really better.

  Doc listened to what Zoe had to say about the aliens, but he also concentrated on her with his other senses. He knew the exact moment her pain disappeared, despite her impressive acting ability.

  So, she had some embedded emergency medical ware to go along with the data implants. The Naval Diplomatic Corps had certainly spent an impressive amount on this one young officer. Or somebody had.

  Matthias Raven had mixed feelings about his new aide. He worried that he trusted her too much, too quickly. And her secrets intrigued him. He was very tempted to get deeper inside her head.

  He was pretty tempted to get into her pants as well.

  In the cycles she’d been down in the hole, he’d kept a close, surreptitious watch on her. She’d made friends, but at no time had she shown the faintest sexual interest in any of the other prisoners despite the many overtures.

  She was sexually interested in him.

  Matthias Raven was aware not just as a telepath, but as a male, of the pull he had on her. The same sexual pull she had on him. Maybe that was why she’d rebuffed all offers from other POWs. And maybe his glares at other interested parties were why most advances toward Lieutenant Pappas had dried up.

  He corrected his egotistical thought. Zoe Pappas was good at manipulating situations, and she was the one keeping people at bay, not he. She could do things with a look, a tone, a bit of body language that spoke volumes about her diplomatic talents.

  She seemed to be using her power only for good, and her involvement with the others in the camp had increased morale. There were people now socializing with each other who had formed hostile cliques before. And he didn’t know how she’d managed to pry Everard away from his gang, but that horny bastard now followed her around like a neutered puppy.

  He leaned forward in his chair. “How do you do it, Pappas?”

  She leaned forward as well, and he had an absurd image of magnetism drawing them together. Her puzzled look was adorable.

  “Do what, sir?”

  Arco’s distinctive triple-tap knock sounded on the doorframe before he could answer.

  “What?” Doc shouted irritably.

  11

  Arco came in and gave Zoe a friendly nod before he addressed his commanding officer.

  Don’t think I didn’t notice that, Doc thought.

  Zoe covered her mouth to smother a giggle. She’d heard his thought, and wasn’t bothered by his telepathy.

  There really was too much communication between them—bad for business, whether they liked it or not.

  He focused on Arco. “Yes?”

  “It’s busy up top, Doc. A Hajim supply ship arrived and brought a few prisoners along with the cargo—human, Asi, and Denthera this time.” He grinned. “They also escorted in a Benso relief ship.”

  Doc stood. “I assume that news is already spreading?”

  Arco’s grin grew wider. “I do my best, sir.”

  “Thank you, Corporal. Continue spreading the good cheer. Call a meeting of the hall officers after the Benso are finished. And inform me when our prisoners have completed processing. Lieutenant, let’s go join the happy throng.” He gestured for Zoe to accompany him. “You don’t look happy,” he said as they left his office.

  Zoe knew that she did not look unhappy. She knew that her expression was perfectly bland and neutral. “My parents didn’t spend all that money on acting lessons just so a telepath could come along and read me like a datasheet,” she complained as they walked through the infirmary.

  “I’ll apologize to your parents if I ever meet them. What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Are you one of those people who don’t like the Benso?”

  Actually, her first reaction to hearing about the Benso had been a surge of hope that she could get a message out through the neutral aid workers whose species goal was to spread love and peace and understanding through the galaxy. But …

  “I don’t trust them,” she told Raven. “It’s probably prejudice, because they’ve never done anything hostile in the century we’ve been in contact with them. But on Terra we have an insect called a praying mantis. The Benso resemble this bug, and deep down I’m scared they’re going to bite my head off and eat me.”

  He gave his deep, rumbling chuckle. “You deal just fine with the Asi, and they will eat you if they get the chance.”

  She nodded. “But the Asi don’t pretend to be the Dalai Lama, either. Sorry, that’s a Terran religious leader.”

  “I know who the Dalai Lama is. I also know what you mean about the Benso. They’re so kind and helpful and compassionate, I can’t help but wonder what they’re really up to.”

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels this way. I can’t deny that they come in handy as intermediaries for delivering aid to all sides in this stupid war—but they give me the creeps.”

  “Creepy, yes.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “But they also bring chocolate. Not that your friendship could be bought for a chocolate bar, of course.”

  She laughed. “I wouldn’t count on that, sir.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Zoe hesitated when they reached the hall door. The thought of the small luxuries provided by a Benso aid package was indeed very tempting. She’d heard that their Hajim captors rarely let the aid workers into the camps, so this could be a once-a-year treat. But it could also be a trap. The Hajim might be allowing a Benso relief run with the purpose of ferreting her out. Chocolate and shampoo weren’t worth the risk.

  “I think I’ll stay and get some work done.” At his questioning look she said, “You haven’t asked about the Denthera yet. I want to have my thoughts in order when you do.”

 
“All right,” he agreed. “You can tell us all about the Denthera when the hall officers get here for the meeting. Right now, I’m going to go look fierce to make sure the aid packages get distributed fairly.”

  He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze before he left.

  “Oh, dear,” Zoe murmured as she stroked her tingling skin. She liked being touched by Doc Raven far too much.

  12

  “You are the last person I thought would be afraid of the BenBugs,” Maria chided her. She took a seat beside Zoe on the floor in Doc’s office, holding a small plastic box on her lap. “You should be ashamed.” She shook the box. “And look what you missed out on.”

  “I am ashamed,” Zoe told her. “But we all have our psychological barriers when it comes to dealing with aliens.” Maybe she shouldn’t have used fear of the Benso as an excuse when her friend came in and asked why she wasn’t outside getting her share of goodies, but it was the first excuse she could think of.

  “I thought you had to pass all kinds of xeno-tolerance assessments to get into the diplomatic branch.”

  “I passed all the tests,” Zoe hastened to explain. The last thing she wanted was to be called on her credentials. She hoped Raven hadn’t noticed the flimsiness of her excuse. “I can deal with any species I have to …there are just some I’d rather not have to.”

  Maria shrugged. “Your loss.” She flipped open her box. “Maybe not that much of a loss,” she added after a quick examination of the items inside. “There’s a vitamin packet, caf tablets, fruit sticks, toiletries. Damn—the one-size-fits-all shirt is white. Why do they send white to a place where nothing stays clean?”

  The fabric in the uniforms issued to Imperial forces was supposed to be impossible to soil—but even the tough enzymes embedded in the cloth gave up the fight after a few weeks of continuous wear. Zoe suspected she was going to hate her uniform before very much longer.

  “At least it’s a change of clothes.” Zoe hoped she didn’t sound wistful.

  Maria lovingly stroked the two candy bars in the box. “I don’t like chocolate, but these make excellent trade goods.” She sighed. “This stuff isn’t my grandma’s baklava, but it seems like treasure.”

  Zoe’s stomach growled at the mention of the honey pastry from back home. “What can I trade you for one of the candy bars?”

  Mischa, Barb, and Dyal Andiki came in as Zoe spoke. “Oh, no,” Mischa announced when he overheard her, “the rule is that all trading has to be done in the public marketplace—which will start in the plaza as soon as we’re done here.”

  Maria flipped her box closed. “So let’s hope this is a quick meeting.”

  “I won’t take much of your time,” Doc said, coming in.

  Arco and a skinny young man Zoe didn’t recognize followed right behind him. The office was small, but everyone managed to sit on the floor or perch on the desk and two chairs that made up the furniture.

  Before he took a seat, Doc came over to Zoe. When she looked up at the tall man towering above her, he held out one of the aid boxes. “For you, Lieutenant.”

  There was a moment of silence while everyone, including Zoe, stared. Someone laughed.

  Then Mischa hooted. “Zoe’s got a boyfriend.”

  “Take that from him and you’ll be engaged. That’s the local custom,” Maria chimed in.

  “That’s not funny!” Barb protested.

  Zoe watched in fascination as General Raven’s tan skin darkened with a blush. She finally reached up and took the box, noticing the warmth of his skin as their fingers brushed. “Thank you, General,” Zoe whispered.

  He nodded. “Anytime, Lieutenant.”

  As Doc turned and walked to his desk chair, Zoe and the hall officers looked attentively at their commander.

  “I won’t keep you long,” he said. “First, I want you to keep an eye out to make sure that any trading from the aid packages goes fairly. Nobody sells themselves for a caf tablet—and nobody asks them to. I want the names of anyone who tries either. Speaking of caf tablets—”

  There was a chorus of groans.

  “—Corporal Arco will now accept donations of caf from willing volunteers.”

  “Hand ’em over.” Arco moved around the room while people grudgingly opened their aid packages.

  “Are you that badly addicted?” Zoe asked when he came to her. She placed her supply in his open palms.

  “Not me,” he told her. “But the Kril love them; they get a real buzz from caf. Supplying the guards with caf is one of the ways I keep on their good side. Keeping them happy helps me get information out of ’em.”

  “Everybody stop complaining,” Doc told the reluctant volunteers. “This is for the good of us all, right?” After a chorus of affirmatives, he went on. “Did anyone notice anything odd about the Benso today?”

  The question put Zoe’s stomach into a nervous knot.

  “Yes, sir,” Mischa replied. “They kept asking people if we had any news to send home.”

  “The Hajim have never allowed them to do that before,” Doc said. “I don’t like their allowing it now. The Hajim are up to something.” He swept his gaze questioningly around the room.

  “I didn’t hear anyone say anything,” Barb said.

  “I don’t think anyone broke the security protocols,” Maria said.

  “Name, rank, and service number was all I heard out of anybody,” Mischa reported.

  The knot in Zoe’s stomach relaxed a little. Her impulse to avoid the Benso had been the right thing to do. She also hated that the Empire’s standing order for prisoner conduct was to reveal no information no matter what the temptation or duress. It shamed her that she’d had even a moment’s thought of breaking the security protocol.

  “Another quick item,” Raven went on. “With the influx of prisoners, I think it’s time to ask the Kril to open up a new housing corridor. Any suggestions for a hall officer?”

  “What about Everard?” Zoe answered immediately. She realized her mistake when several hostile looks were turned her way. “Sorry. I’m not a hall officer, I don’t have a vote here.”

  “No one has a vote.” The young man she didn’t know spoke up. “This is an empire, remember?”

  “Don’t start,” Mischa warned him.

  Maria leaned close and whispered in Zoe’s ear, “Adams is from one of the secessionist colonies.”

  “I know the type,” Zoe whispered back. Too well. They all took names like Adams or Payne or Robespierre or Mao or Che—Creative Anachronistic Revolutionaries.

  “No one gets a vote, because this is the military,” Raven pointed out. “No one in any military organization in human history has ever gotten a vote. Any other suggestions about a new hall officer?”

  Several names were offered, including Zoe’s. “I’ll consider all of them.” Then he looked at Zoe. “Our alien liaison officer will now briefly tell us about the Denthera, so we can get to the party in the plaza.”

  He held up a hand for her to wait before she could get started and looked around. “Our Denthera neighbors are sneaky bastards, and I suspect they’re spying on us. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I want more patrols in our corridors to discourage any spying.”

  “What do you want us to do if we catch them?” Barb asked.

  “I don’t want them caught. For now, I only want confirmation that they’re watching us.” He nodded to Zoe. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

  Zoe was aware of the growing impatience to be gone permeating the room. “Briefly, the Denthera are sneaky, although they don’t have any cultural equivalent of bastard.” She hurried on after the brief laughter. “They are genetically related to the Kril, but they consider the Kril a cowardly, inferior race. One of the reasons they fight the Hajim is because the Kril collaborate with them. They fight us and the Asi over territorial issues, but they can also be hired by us as spies and mercenaries. They might be telepathic, but not in any way that shows up on human sensors. Maybe they just have great hearing and are
good at interpreting alien body language. They do things for their own reasons and don’t bother explaining them to us.”

  “Sneaky bastards,” Raven concluded.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s it, then.” General Raven waved toward the office door. “Dismissed.”

  13

  “Does it seem darker than usual to you?” Barb Langly asked Zoe as they met on the main ramp a couple of stories above the plaza. Zoe had been looking down on the open expanse, trying to follow the action of soccer match in and out of the shadows.

  “Hello,” Zoe responded, giving up on watching the game. She hadn’t seen the other woman since the meeting in Doc’s office two cycles ago.

  Zoe looked at the skylight above—it was probably night out in the world as the shield seemed darker. The lights spaced too far apart around the walls gave their usual dim illumination.

  “No,” she told Barb as they fell into step on their way down. “It doesn’t seem any worse than usual. Or better,” she added. “I hate this place.”

  Barb gave her a bleak look. “Just wait until you’ve been here as long as I have.”

  Zoe didn’t want to think about that. She tried to change the subject. “Where are you heading?”

  The look in Barb’s eyes became more dreamy, less hopeless. “Doc’s office,” she answered.

  Zoe was heading that way herself but thought it best not to mention this to Barb when the woman was in such a down mood. Better not to arouse Barb’s possessive insecurity over Doc.

  And what about my possessive insecurity? She pouted, and answered her own petulance with a stern reminder that the only relationship she had with Raven was a working one.

  “I want to tell Doc about the guy that’s been creeping around the corridors the last couple of cycles,” Barb added.

  “A Denthera?”

  Barb shook her head. “The people who’ve seen him don’t think so. He’s quiet and fast but more human shaped than alien. Opinion is that it’s one of the newbies running around scared of the dark.”