Lara's answer amounted to a purr, accompanied by an affectionate stroke along Saburo's thigh. "Sub-human or not, I could really get used to you. Yes. It's agreed."
She rose quickly and padded over toward another door. "We'd better get dressed, then. You want that crap you had on, or will you settle for one of the resort's luxury robes?"
"Robe'll do." Saburo turned his face toward Berry and Ruth. "Give us a moment, will you? Lara could probably manage it-being a superwoman and all-but I'm just not up for first-class plotting and scheming in the raw."
"No problem," stated Ruth firmly. Berry didn't think the little squeak in her voice detracted much from the dignity of the moment.
She herself said nothing. She felt silence would be sufficient. After all, she wasn't the member of a royal house perched in the middle of a wild orgy between sub-human terrorists and maniacal superwomen. She was just-
"Daddy's gonna kill me," she hissed. "I'm dead. Dead-dead-dead."
"He'll never find out," Ruth whispered back.
"Yes, he will. Anton Zilwicki finds out everything."
"That should do it," Lieutenant Commander Watanapongse said. The Solarian naval officer leaned back in his chair in the space station's central com room and glanced up at Walter Imbesi. "It's your call, of course."
Imbesi stared at him for a moment; then, for a longer moment, stared at the control panel. He was tempted to ask-very tempted-how it was that Watanapongse had enough of Abraham Templeton's voice recorded to have put together the message he had. In less than two hours after arriving at The Wages of Sin.
For that matter, Imbesi was tempted to ask how Watanapongse had managed that, as well. Just about the only way the lieutenant commander could have gotten to the space station that quickly was if he'd been standing by a shuttle down in Maytag.
Walter suspected that he had been, in fact. But…
Best to leave the questions unasked. See no evil, hear no evil, etc., etc. If I get the results I want, I'll let the rest of it pass.
"Go ahead," he commanded. "Send it."
Watanapongse nodded and pressed the control. "This will go out on the Masadans' channel. Which-ha!-they think is still secure."
Walter listened carefully, as the recording being sent out was played back in the com room's audio outputs.
It was Abraham Templeton's voice-so, at least, the Solarian officer claimed; Walter himself had never heard the Masadan speak-sounding broken and strained. As if the man saying the words was badly injured and exhausted.
"Hosea. Solomon, whichever's there. [Sharp intake of breath, as if from a stab of pain.] Gideon's… dead. Most of us're dead. I'm not long. We've got the bitch. [Long pause, vague sound of gurgling breath. Maybe a sucking chest wound.] It's a stand-off, here. They can't get to us without… [Another sharp intake of breath, accompanied by a soft moan.] Killing the slut. Told them I would. They're backing off. [Another pause, shorter. The next words were forced, as if the speaker was running out of energy.] Hold tight. Twelve hours or so. We'll have a deal. Let us go if we keep the bitch alive. [A sudden, low cry, as if Templeton was fighting down agony.] Just hold on. Twelve hours or so. We'll be coming over."
Watanapongse flipped a control, and the voice cut off. "And there it is. That should do it, all by itself. But I'll keep monitoring the channel, and put together something else if it looks like we need it."
The Solarian leaned back in his chair, looking pleased and relaxed. "Piece of cake. All you and I have to do now is just let the-ah, what's the word? The 'wet work specialists,' how's that? Let them do their business. Eighteen hours from now-sooner, probably-it'll all be over except the waiting."
Walter nodded. "That'll be tricky, mind you. Trying to keep something like this secret, for weeks."
Watanapongse was polite enough not to sneer outright. "With the tame press you've got? Piece of cake."
Imbesi scowled. "Not the press I'm worried about. Sooner or later, you know, Anton Zilwicki's going to hear about this and come back. Then-"
"Enlist him in the scheme. Tie him in."
"Well, yes. That's the plan. But what if he doesn't feel like being enlisted?"
Watanapongse said nothing. But Imbesi was pleased to see the smug look vanish from his face.
Chapter 33
Victor woke up quickly and easily, as he always did, alert to his surroundings. Normally, this would be followed within seconds by him rising from the bed and beginning the day's activities.
This morning, however… was unlike any other in his life.
For starters, the moment he stirred, the arm around his chest and the leg draped over his thighs began to tighten. Granted, the motion was gentle, the limbs were supple, and the skin was silky smooth. It was still like being held by a python.
The feel of those anaconda muscles brought back to him in a flash everything that had transpired in the course of the night. The very long night. For a brief moment, Victor gave thanks that Thandi Palane enjoyed being sexually submissive. If she hadn't, he'd probably be a corpse. "Dominating" her had been like a mortal "dominating" a goddess-a feat which was only possible because the goddess willed it herself.
And that, of course-given Victor's capacity for self-reproach-was the main thing which held him paralyzed. As episode after episode from the night before flashed through his mind, he began to plunge into an abyss of guilt and remorse. The problem wasn't that he'd acceded to Thandi's wishes. Deeds were simply deeds, after all. Victor had committed acts far worse-by many orders of magnitude-than anything he'd done the night before and, more or less, shrugged them off afterward.
But that was because he hadn't enjoyed them. Whereas…
I'm a pervert, he thought bleakly.
He probed his memory, trying to find some particle of distaste; some instant of hesitation; one single point where he'd paused-just for a second!-before wallowing in the sheer pleasure of it all.
Nothing.
Face it, freak. You found the whole thing completely thrilling. Best sex you ever had in your life-ever dreamed of-not that you've had all that much sex to compare it to, but still…
Pervert! Admit it, Cachat! You loved every minute of it! Every second!
Gloomily, he started dwelling on this or that remembered moment. Each and every one of which had made him ecstatic. Within seconds, his gloom deepened. He was getting erect again.
And there's the proof of it. You swine.
Thandi was awake herself now. Her lips pressed against the back of his neck, open, her tongue starting to work. The same tongue which figured quite prominently in a number of those remembered flashes. He was completely erect even before her hand found him.
"Dream lover," she murmured. The anaconda body writhed, pulling Victor on top of her. Resistance would have been futile, not that Victor tried. Quite the opposite, in fact-and the gloomiest moment of all came when he saw how avidly he discarded all melancholy and plunged back into rampaging lust.
He did, for an instant, try to tell himself he was just being "very energetically passionate." The instant lasted perhaps a nanosecond.
The worst of it came when it was over. Thandi was a very verbal lover, and once his passion was spent, Victor was able to look past his moral qualms to face the underlying reality. Even more than the goddess body, it was that mezzo-soprano voice which thrilled him. He remembered something his father had once told him, in one of those occasional periods of lucidity when he wasn't drunk.