Fear God and Dread Naught by Christopher Nuttall Page B

bodies glistening under the sunlight.  They were so perfect that she couldn't help thinking that they too had had a little plastic surgery.  And their contracts presumably prevented them from putting on weight.
     
    “There’re no distractions here,” Barton said, quietly.  “No worries, no concerns ...”
     
    “Until the money runs out,” George said.  She scowled.  Just because she had a trust fund didn't mean she had to abuse it.  “And we go back to the ship.”
     
    She leaned back, feeling the sunlight grow hotter.  She’d been worked to the bone, along with the other midshipmen, over the last three weeks.  And then they’d been reassigned, leaving her as the only middy.  It had been nice to have Middy Country to herself for a week, but there had been something unnatural about sleeping on her own.  And yet, if she’d mentioned that to anyone , they would have called for the men in white coats to take her away.  Privacy and solitude were so rare for midshipmen that every last fragment of them was precious.
     
    “You’re thinking,” Barton accused, mischievously.  “I can tell.”
     
    “I’m surprised you can recognise the symptoms,” George said.  “Do you actually do any thinking at all.”
     
    “I let my little head do all the thinking for me,” Barton said.  He sat upright, then brought his lips to hers for a long kiss.  “And right now, there’s nothing else to do.”
     
    George smiled as she opened her legs, allowing him to slip gently into her.  She hadn't been a virgin when she’d boarded Vanguard - she hoped, desperately, that her family didn't know anything about her last few days at Hanover Towers - but Barton had been her first serious partner.  The things he did to her made her body purr, even though she knew there could never be anything permanent between them.  She leaned back as he thrust deeper, gasping as his hands played over her breasts.  And then she was lost in the sensation ...
     
    Afterwards, they showered under the waterfall before walking along the beach to the cafe, holding hands.  A handful of other couples were sitting there, as naked as the two of them; they took a seat and ordered dinner, then held hands as they waited.  The food was very good, she’d discovered, even though much of the meat was vat-grown rather than imported from Earth.  But then, importing real steak and ribs from Earth would have driven the price up into low orbit.
     
    The waiter returned, carrying a tray of steak and mashed potatoes in one hand and a datapad in the other.  “Messages have arrived for both of you,” he said.  “They’re both marked low priority.”
     
    George exchanged a glance with Barton.  Messages?  Messages from whom?  Her family didn't know where she was, as far as she knew.  She took the datapad and tapped the scanner, allowing it to read the naval ID chip implanted in her palm.  Moments later, the message unlocked itself.  She read it quickly and scowled.
     
    “They want me back at the ship a day early,” she said.  It wasn't really a surprise - she’d been lucky to get five solid days of off-ship leave approved - but it was annoying.  She'd hoped for another night together.  “And you too, I guess.”
     
    Barton took the datapad and read his message.  “A very good guess,” he said.  “I’m expected to report to my new department head tomorrow morning.”
     
    George sighed as she took back the datapad and checked the travel schedules.  The resort didn't have a proper airport or spaceport and it wasn't on the high-speed monorail network that linked the various settlements together.  They’d have to get a tripod, paying through the nose for passage to the nearest spaceport.  And they’d have to get a shuttle from there to L4.
     
    “We’re going to be pushing it,” she said.  There was no way the Royal Navy would devote an interplanetary shuttle to a very junior officer and a crewman, no matter who she happened