Текст книги "Sleeping With the Enemy"

Автор книги: Kaitlyn O'Connor

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Chapter Five

    “I see you brought a fairly sizable escort. Is this an invitation? Or an order?” Powell said grimly, making no attempt to hide his hostility.

    Sybil hadn’t actually noticed that Anka wasn’t alone until Powell’s comment. She felt the heat in her cheeks that was just fading flood back in a flash as she shot a quick glance behind him and noticed two men just outside the door.

    “It is an invitation that you may decline if it’s your wish. If you prefer, I will have food sent to you here,” Anka responded coolly.

    Powell studied him for a long moment. “In that case, we appreciate the invitation.”

    Spencer and Kushbu both stiffened and shot him a questioning look. He shook his head faintly, acknowledging he knew they had questions without answering them. Sybil sent him a shocked look herself, feeling the beginnings of anger that he’d arbitrarily accepted for all of them. She didn’t give a damn if he was her commanding officer! This situation didn’t fall under his purview, damn it!

    She wasn’t about to add to the tension, however, by arguing the matter. She was uncomfortable enough, anyway, that she didn’t particularly relish the idea of drawing more attention to herself.

    After glancing around at the people standing like statutes waiting to be animated, she moved toward Anka. It broke the spell holding everyone. She saw Anka and the men with him visibly relax. Powell and Spencer surged forward, as if to cut her off before she could reach Anka, and Kushbu, remembering his manners, approached his colleague and offered an arm.

    She wasn’t certain if Anka was mimicking Kushbu or if the gesture was familiar to him from his own customs, but he offered his own arm as escort. The tension fairly crackled in the air. Ignoring it, she took the offering. “Thank you.”

    He nodded. “My pleasure.”

    The response was coolly formal, almost mechanical, and Sybil abruptly felt a surge of amusement. It took an effort to resist the urge to comment on the warmth of the invitation, but she made the effort. “Thank you for the… uh… clothing, too.”

    She would’ve preferred her damned flight suit, but she didn’t see any benefit in behaving in as surly a manner as the others.

    “I apologize that I wasn’t able to return the suit. You are not particularly comfortable in this attire?”

    She managed a weak smile. “It’s… uh…” Better than nothing? Not very polite, even if it was the way she felt. “Very pretty.”

    “The beauty lies in the wearer.”

    Sybil shot a startled look up at his face and discovered that he was studying her without pretense of hiding his appreciation. Her face heated up again. She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

    His face relaxed almost into a smile. “The design is favored by the women of Sumptra.” During their courtship dances, but he had no intention of telling her that. He supposed, wryly, that he should have chosen the loose trousers and tunics favored for labor, but he couldn’t regret it when she was such a pleasure to look at.

    “Well, that’s something to look forward to,” Spencer muttered in a perfectly audible voice that made Anka stiffen. “You have a problem with us admiring your women? Or you think that privilege should be all yours?” Spencer added when Anka turned to look at him, dropping any pretense of veiling his hostility.

    Anka narrowed his eyes at Spencer. Powell cut in before either man could say more, however. “Sumptra… Is that the name of your home world? Or your country?”

    “Sumptra was… united long ago. It is the name of the home world.”

    Sybil frowned at the slight hesitation, wondering what, if anything, it denoted. Maybe nothing more than the fact that he was struggling with anger over Spencer’s deliberately provoking comments? She might have dismissed it completely except that she noticed that the guards sent to escort them both flicked surprised glances at him.

    So he was lying, she decided. She just didn’t know what he was lying about. Unification? Or something else?

    She was still mulling it over when they apparently reached their destination. A door slid silently open as they approached, revealing a far larger room than she’d seen before… filled to capacity with the men and women of Sumptra. Sybil’s heart instantly leapt and began to pound out her distress.

    Anka settled his hand over hers where it clutched his arm so tightly, drawing her gaze.

    “There is no danger here, nodia, however… fearsome we might appear to you.”

    Sybil felt some of her tension ease… briefly.

    Spencer uttered a derisive snort. She knew it was him. Anka fixed him with a cool look but refused to rise to the bait.

    As oddly comforted as she was by Anka’s assurance, Sybil was never more glad of anything than she was when he’d escorted her to a seat and she could collapse gracelessly onto it. Holly settled with a heavy plop onto the seat just a few chairs down from her, making it clear that her knees had also given out. It took a supreme effort even to make a show of unconcern as she glanced around what looked very much like any other military mess hall she’d eaten in– except that every face was alien, not merely the face of a stranger.

    By the time the scrape of chairs as everyone settled had died down, Sybil had managed to calm her racing heart and ceased to feel as if she might faint and fall face first into the dish in front of her-which held what appeared to be some sort of soup.

    Instead of settling himself, Anka addressed the crowd-in his language. She exchanged an uncomfortable glance with the others, wondering, as she knew they were, what it was that he was saying. Almost as if Anka had read her mind, he switched to English. “I was reminding everyone that you are guests and should be treated accordingly.”

    It had certainly taken a lot of their words to say so little, Sybil thought wryly, wondering when they’d become ‘guests’ or if it was just a polite euphemism for prisoners.

    “Are we?” Powell asked.

    Anka lifted his brows at him. “I extended an invitation. You accepted.”

    Sybil studied his face, wondering if he was being deliberately evasive.

    “We usually let our guests leave when the party’s over,” Spencer said with patently false joviality.

    Anka didn’t try to veil his dislike. “And you shall… when the party’s over.”

    “So… will this be like an extended house party? Or will we be leaving soon?”

    “Spencer,” Powell growled under his breath. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll have you up on charges when we get back.”

    “You mean if, right?”

    “Tell me Commander Karshay,” Holly broke in hurriedly, “what is Sumka like?”

    Anka winced when she murdered both his name and the name of his home world. “His name is l’Kartay,” Sybil murmured, “and his world is called Sumptra.”

    Holly stared at her blankly, blinking her eyes rapidly. “Oh! I am so sorry! I was never very good with names. Especially… uh… foreign names. Just ask Dr. Kusha.”

    “Kushbu,” the doctor corrected her tightly.

    Anka smiled with obvious effort. “Beautiful to us… naturally.”

    Holly gaped at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

    Sybil lifted her spoon, stared at the liquid in front of her, and braced herself. Almost as if the others were puppets connected by the same strings, the others abruptly turned their attention to their own food. Dipping her spoon ever so slightly into the liquid Sybil brought it up to taste it and discovered that Anka was watching her.

    Braving discovery, she slipped the spoon into her mouth.

    “It isn’t poison, I assure you,” he murmured near her ear.

    Goosebumps leapt to life along the side of her neck and raced toward her breasts, making her nipples pucker and stand erect. Sybil flicked a quick look downward, hoping against hope that the reaction wasn’t as noticeable as it felt. It didn’t make her happy to discover her hope was in vain. She swallowed a little convulsively. “It’s good.”

    “You could not have tasted it with that microscopic spoonful.”

    Sybil sent him a quick look and discovered his gaze was fixed somewhere in the region of the ‘twin towers’. He met her gaze when he felt hers. “Would you like to exchange bowls? I should warn you, though, that I’m not terribly popular around here.”

    Sybil gaped at him until it dawned on her that he was joking. It surprised a chuckle out of her-actually something more embarrassingly close to a hysterical giggle. “In that case, I think I’ll keep my bowl, thank you. Hopefully, no one dislikes me enough to poison me.”

    She’d been too on edge since her arrival to realize just how hungry she was, she discovered. The soup was hot and good even though it wasn’t like anything she’d ever tasted before and it seemed to prime her for more. “It’s very good.” She glanced at him in surprise. “Don’t tell me what it is.”

    He chuckled. “You wouldn’t know if I did.”

    “I guess not,” she admitted wryly.

    Thankfully, the rest of the crew seemed to enjoy it as much as she did. They focused on consuming the broth and by the time they’d finished seemed far more relaxed.

    The aliens, she noticed with some amusement, also seemed less tense. Maybe they weren’t as different as they appeared on the outside? Anka had shown he had a sense of humor that she could appreciate, patience in the face of antagonism, thoughtfulness and generosity. These were traits she’d always considered strictly human, and on the high end of the scale at that. Maybe it was pure conceit to believe no other species could possibly have or understand these things as humans did?

    The thought prompted a question in her mind and she turned to Anka as one of the ‘creepy’ aliens removed her empty bowl. “What do you call yourselves?”

    His brows rose at the question, speculation flickering in his eyes.

    “I guess that was too general. I meant what name do you have for your species?”

    He nodded understanding. “Ferils.”

    “It isn’t my field,” Holly broke into the conversation, “but I’m very curious as to what sort of animals you evolved from.”

    “You have none on your home world.”

    “Really?” Spencer said. “You remind me of a cat.”

    Anger suffused Sybil. She’d certainly thought so, too, but he was going out of his way to be insulting and rude. “You have the worst manners of anybody it’s ever been my misfortune to know,” she said tightly. “We’re guests…”

    “We’re captives,” Spencer shot back at her. “I don’t feel like playing nice with the enemy.”

    “He’s right,” Anka interrupted. “The felines of your world are similar.”

    “Well,” Holly put in, “I don’t see that that’s any more insulting than the fact that ours are primates. It doesn’t mean we’re ape-like anymore… not all of us anyway.”

    “What the fuck do you mean by that?” Spencer demanded.

    Holly sent him a look that was part uneasiness and part anger. “It means I don’t appreciate your rudeness any more than Lieutenant Hunter. However we got here, we’ve been extended the courtesy of being treated like guests and I appreciate it. I think you’ve adequately expressed your objections.”

    Before Spencer could verbally attack her, Powell intervened. “I’m going to second her opinion, Corporal Spencer and remind you that I’ve already given warning. I’m going to consider any further outbursts from you as a mutinous disregard of your superior’s orders. Stand down, or I will certainly place charges against you at the earliest opportunity.”

    Spencer stared at him sullenly for several moments and finally shrugged. “Yes, Sir.”

    The tension that time lasted well into the main course, but whatever it was they’d been served was as delicious as the soup. Sybil was still angry, however, that Spencer had been so determined to cause friction when they’d had an opportunity to foster good relations. Maybe he was right and they were all wrong. Maybe they were nothing but prisoners. Maybe the ferils, as they called themselves, despised them as a species and there was no hope of any sort of friendly relations, but she realized she simply didn’t believe that.

    If they’d been focused on ridding the solar system of humans, they’d had every opportunity. Hadn’t they?

    “I almost hate to bring it up… under the circumstances, but I am curious. You said before that the scientists had developed the droids because they’d believed they would be less… disturbing to us?”

    Anka nodded. “Ironic I suppose.”

    Sybil smiled faintly since she was the one who’d pointed out how creepy they seemed to her. “I was wondering how long they had been studying us?”

    Something flickered in his eyes. He shrugged. “Our people visited your world many times.”

    “Why?” Kushbu asked curiously.

    Anka smiled faintly. “I’m not a scientist. You’d have to ask them.”

    Sybil frowned, certain he knew and simply didn’t want to say. “I suppose you’ve found a lot of different species? Explored many worlds?”

    “Yes, many, and some fairly advanced civilizations.”

    “And you’ve… colonized many worlds?” she asked tentatively.

    Anka seemed to wrestle with himself. “The worlds that will bear life have. We’ve never considered it… just to take what is already claimed by those who evolved on a world.” He smiled faintly. “Animals are amazingly territorial-even those of higher intelligence. We respect that.”

    Spencer made a derisive sound that made Sybil long to be close enough to punch him in the face. Anka’s lips tightened, but he seemed determined to ignore any provocation Spencer tossed at him.

    Alien or not, Sybil had to admit his tolerance, whatever his motivation, commanded respect.

    She was fairly certain he had some ulterior motive for behaving so graciously. She’d seen a look in his eyes more than once that made it clear that he was keeping his temper on a tight rein and that he wouldn’t have minded knocking Spencer’s teeth down his throat otherwise.

    She was pretty convinced he could do it, too. As lean as he was, there was very little on his tall frame beyond muscle. Of course, Spencer was built like a tank, but he was also far shorter and she doubted he outweighed Anka.

    “I have offered the troops a special treat tonight,” Anka announced as the droids collected the remains of their meal. “It’s been a while since they were allowed much in the way of recreation or socializing. You are welcome to stay and take part as guests, or you may return to your quarters, whichever you prefer.”

    Sybil’s belly tightened with uneasiness. She wasn’t certain if it was because she was unnerved at the thought of mingling with the ferils, if she was worried about what their idea of fun might entail, or if it was because she was afraid of what Spencer might do, but she didn’t know how to respond.

    “Corporal Spencer would like to return to quarters,” Powell said, giving Spencer a hard look. “I’d like to stay.”

    Holly looked as uneasy as she felt but she relaxed fractionally at the discovery that Spencer wouldn’t be allowed to try to stir up the animosity of the ferils. She smiled a little tremulously. “Thank you. I believe I’d like to stay, as well.”

    She still looked anything but thrilled and Sybil wondered if she’d decided to stay to try to be polite, because she was interested in observing on a scientific level, or if she simply didn’t want to be stuck with Spencer. When Kushbu expressed a similar desire to stay, though, she realized she certainly didn’t want to be alone with Spencer, even if she was still wary of joining the ferils.

    When Anka sent her a questioning look, therefore, she smiled and expressed her appreciation at the invitation.

    Spencer was sullen as he was escorted out, but once he’d gone Sybil discovered she was able to relax… even surrounded by the ‘enemy’, as he’d put it.

    They rose from their seats when everyone else did, moving out of the way and watching a little uneasily as the troops cleared the room, stacking most of the tables and chairs against the wall and then setting a line of chairs out so that anyone who wanted to could simply sit and watch.

    Anka stood stiffly erect, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the soldiers as they cleared the room and set it up for whatever it was they were about to do. Sybil divided her time between watching what was going on and studying Anka when she thought no one would notice.

    It was the first time she’d seen any of the ferils besides him. She was embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that she’d more than half suspected that she wouldn’t be able to tell one from another. He truly was impressive, handsome even among his own people, though.

    Of course, she supposed their concept of handsome might be entirely different from hers, but from her point of view, he was… magnificent. She wasn’t altogether sure it was entirely his looks, however. There was no doubt that he was handsome and well built, even compared to the physical perfection of the other soldiers, who were no doubt also very fit for their species due to their profession. She supposed it was partly due to his position of power, but she actually hadn’t thought much about that-or didn’t think she had.

    She thought it was his personality more than anything else. She couldn’t help but admire the traits she’d seen in him even while she wondered if she’d seen the ‘real’ Anka at all. For all she knew he might be an excellent actor, playing a role entirely for their benefit.

    He’d admitted he knew a great deal about them-his facility with their language was proof even if he hadn’t-but she had to wonder if it went well beyond that. He hadn’t wanted to tell them any specifics about how long they’d studied humans, but they must have gathered a lot of data over the years. They must have studied the human psychology exhaustively.

    Then again, even humans had trouble understanding other humans. Was it possible for a people so different to understand an entirely different species?

    She discovered when she emerged from her reverie that she was not only staring directly at Anka, he was staring back, a faintly quizzical expression on his face.

    He moved closer, coming to stand beside her, but when he spoke he included her entire group. “This is festival, a custom that goes back many generations among my people. It’s celebrated at the beginning of each season-Sumptra has four as the Earth does.”

    Holly looked delighted. “We have pagan rituals that we still observe for the seasons.”

    A glint of amusement entered his eyes. “You do?” he prompted, although Sybil had the feeling he was well aware of it.

    “Well,” Holly said depreciatingly, “I don’t suppose exactly the same. The beliefs of so many cultures have blended together until it’s rather a hodgepodge-a very loose marking of the seasons with ritual. And so many new holidays have been added that celebrate other things, but a lot of the holidays we celebrate now had their roots in pagan rituals.”

    He nodded. “Ours are a celebration of life and renewal, an appreciation for what each new season brings. It is a time for choosing lovers.”

    Holly gaped at him in horror.

    Sybil whipped her head so quickly to stare at him that she popped a joint in her neck.

    His lips twitched. “No one expects any of you to take part,” he murmured, his voice shaking with amusement, “Although you are certainly welcome to do so if you would like to.”

    Powell shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe we shouldn’t have stayed,” he murmured.

    “Maybe I should explain,” Anka countered. “You are not about to witness what you would call an orgy. The song and dance is a courtship ritual, but there is no obligation for anyone to chose. There is simply the opportunity to do so, and everyone takes part in them– even elders who no longer have any interest in courting or taking lovers.”

    Holly cleared her throat, obviously torn between scientific curiosity and a natural shyness that made her uncomfortable with the subject. “But the festival is how… uh… when you… uh… mate? And then you choose another at the next festival?”

    “Sometimes. Those who have no lover, or who are unhappy with the one they chose before, may find another who appeals to them more. For those who have found a lover they wish to stay with, it’s a time to renew their pledge to one another, to enjoy the excitement of that first meeting all over again.”

    Sybil didn’t know about the others, but she was still confused. She wasn’t comfortable with the idea of asking him to explain in more detail, however. Fortunately, Holly managed to overcome her own discomfort.

    “Then you’re saying that you don’t have marriage as we do? Or is this something else?”

    Anka shrugged. “We do not have marriage as you do.” He frowned thoughtfully and finally smiled. “It’s rather more like an endless honeymoon. Lovers never live together as your people do. Our blood bonds are strong and we stay with them, with the family we were born in to. Each night males go to their lovers and each morning we return to our own homes.”

    Powell looked intrigued.

    He would, Sybil thought sourly. “I suppose that would keep things fresh,” she said wryly, “None of the tedium of day to day life.”

    Anka’s eyes gleamed with more than amusement as he studied her. He shrugged. “It has worked for our people for many generations. We are rarely lonely and always aware that if we fail our lovers we will not be welcome to return and they will choose another.”

    Sybil stared at him while that slowly sank in. “The women choose.”

    Surprise flickered across his features. “Of course.”

    “You have a matriarchal society,” Holly exclaimed with sudden comprehension.

    “Naturally. As I said-blood bonds-and there is no surer way to follow them. In any case, it is the mother who makes the home.”

    Sybil and Holly both glanced at Kushbu and Powell with amusement to see how they’d taken that news. Both men looked disbelieving, irritated, and uncomfortable. Sybil could see they were regretting the decision to stay. She discovered, however, that she felt a good deal better about her own decision, not nearly as intimidated by the fact that the males in the room outnumbered the females by about six or seven to one.

    There were a surprising number of women for all that considering that it was a military gathering. She wouldn’t have thought, given what he’d said about their society, that women would be inclined to want to join the military. It sounded as if, on their world, they held a great deal of power.

    Maybe that in itself explained it, though? With power came responsibility. Or maybe it was just customary in their society for all young people, male and female, to serve?

    That didn’t seem to fit, however, not when the men outnumbered the women-unless there was simply an imbalance of the ratio of men to women on their world? She might have speculated on it longer except that the first strains of music began to play and the soldiers began to form into groups.

    The music was lively and so was the dance. It reminded her strongly of old fashioned country dances she’d seen in old vids, although, not surprisingly, neither the steps or the movements were like anything she’d seen. By the time it ended, the dancers were breathless and relaxed enough to smile and talk with one another animatedly.

    “Would you care to try it?” Anka asked politely when the next song began and the dancers began to form up once more.

    Sybil grimaced. “I don’t think I could. I don’t know how to dance like that.”

    “No one expects you to know it.”

    Sybil chewed her lip, wavering, but it did look like fun. “Promise not to laugh?”

    He grinned at her. “I give you my word.”

    She glanced uncertainly at Powell. He flicked a look at Anka and shrugged. Taking that as permission to participate, Sybil allowed Anka to lead her out to join the closest group. She discovered it was a lot more invigorating than she’d expected, but she was pleased that she managed to follow the steps fairly well. Breathless by the time the song ended, she was more than happy to find a chair and collapse. Anka followed her but disappeared as soon as she sat down. He returned with a glass of water while she was searching the sea of dancers for the rest of her crew who’d disappeared.

    She took the glass gratefully. “I’m not nearly as fit as I thought I was,” she murmured ruefully.

    “I instructed them to turn up the cooling. It’s cool enough ordinarily, but we rarely engage in anything quite this vigorous.”

    For some reason the comment instantly connected in Sybil’s mind with vigorous sex. She wasn’t certain why unless it was his conversation of before. Ignoring the blush that gave away her thoughts, she smiled at the humor in his voice. “You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be happy to sit here and catch my breath.”

    “I’ll be happy to sit with you and catch my breath. I’m not as young as I once was.”

    Sybil sent him a searching look, surprised to realize it hadn’t even occurred to her to wonder what his age might be. He looked young, but how did they look when they were older? She supposed, after a little thought, that he couldn’t be very young or he wouldn’t have attained the rank he held.

    He grimaced at the speculation in her eyes. “As it happens, I’m in my prime. That was meant to be humorous.”

    Sybil chuckled. “And wasted on a human. A feril would’ve known immediately that you were joking.”

    Something gleamed in his eyes. “Perhaps-maybe not. Maybe I look very youthful for my age?”

    “And maybe you look older than you actually are?” she suggested, smiling.

    He studied her face. “Maybe.”

    “How old do you think I am?”

    His gaze flickered over her face. “Oh, that’s completely immaterial to me as long as you’re breedable,” he said lightly.

    Sybil gaped at him, feeling her face redden.

    He chuckled. “I am fascinated by the way your face changes colors whenever you’re disconcerted. You do realize that?”

    “You mean you weren’t serious?” she asked doubtfully.

    “I didn’t say that,” he responded, his lips curling in a smile.

    “So… you were serious?”

    “I usually am.”

    Disconcerted, still uncertain of whether he was joking or not, Sybil studied his face. “You are, aren’t you?” she said finally.

    It was his turn to look disconcerted. He recovered quickly. “So I’m told. Are you ready to dance again?”

    Sybil did a mental inventory and decided she might be able to handle one more dance without passing out… if she rested a little longer. “The next one.”

    Nodding, he settled back to watch the dancers.

    “Exactly how is it that this works?” Sybil asked after a moment.

    He looked a question, but she didn’t believe for a moment that he didn’t know what she was asking. “The courting you told us about?” she prompted.

    “You haven’t noticed?” he countered.

    She shook her head.

    He leaned closer. “Do you see the young man facing Dr. Rains?”

    Sybil searched the dancers until she spotted Holly. “Not really. He has his back to us.”

    “Wait for the turn of the dance.”

    She studied them, watching the man he’d pointed out intently. Finally the steps carried the group into a half turn where she could see both Holly and the man opposite her in profile. She frowned. “I still don’t see…”

    “But his attention is entirely on her. He waits until she finally notices his prowess in the dance steps and then he searches for a smile of encouragement.”

    Holly finally looked up, did a double take when she discovered the man in front of her was staring at her pointedly, turned first white as a sheet and then as red as fire. Sybil clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a snort of laughter. “Poor man! He’s been slighted.”

    Anka chuckled. “Ah… if he were human, perhaps. We ferils are made of sterner stuff. He’ll try again.”

    Sybil looked at him, smiling faintly. “That’s all the encouragement you need? A smile?” she asked teasingly.

    His eyes darkened. “It’s a certain smile we look for, a look in the eyes. When a woman looks at a man a certain way it’s an invitation.”

    Sybil felt her face heating up again. She looked away, realizing abruptly what he was saying. Her heart began to thump like a trip-hammer.

    “Yes or no, nodia?” he asked in a husky whisper.

    Sybil swallowed convulsively, trying to decide whether she was more excited or more terrified. As confused as she was, however, the thought of refusing him was almost scarier, not because she was afraid of him, but because she feared she would always regret it.

    It still took a tremendous effort to look at him. “Yes,” she said a little hoarsely.