Mercenary Instinct (a science fiction romance) by Ruby Lionsdrake Page A

cabin?” She gave the boots on the desk a significant
look. She couldn’t see around the corner to see the rest of the
security man’s face, but he had to be entertained by this
conversation.
    “I do have a private cabin. I’m a
senior sergeant, been here since the beginning, you know. Got all
kinds of perks. But the captain said we’d have to do it in here.”
Striker tapped his fingers on the wall beside the door pad. “Shall
I come in?”
    If he’d still been wearing the bandolier of
grenades, Ankari might have been tempted—surely the three of them
could have overpowered him, grabbed a few, and made a stand—but
blowing up the brig wasn’t what she wanted. She needed a chance to
roam free for an hour or two and find the ship’s library—if a
mercenary ship had such a thing—or someplace quiet to access the
net. She needed to get Fumio researching for her and to learn more
about Lord Felgard. She’d heard the name before, but had no idea
why he might be after her team. All she could think was that this
might somehow be related to their company, but they hadn’t set up a
clinic yet or taken on any clients. How could he have even heard of
their business? Aside from that handful of meetings Ankari had
arranged, they hadn’t told anyone what they were doing.
    “Look, I might be interested,” Ankari said,
“especially if you might be willing to put in a word to the captain
on our behalf and perhaps get our samples and equipment returned to
us...” That ought to add a little verisimilitude. As dumb as
Striker seemed to be, he would probably be suspicious if one of
them jumped at a chance to ride his... poker. “But, I’m afraid I
prefer privacy for sensuous matters.”
    “I can make it dark.” Striker thumbed a
panel, and the lights dimmed, then went up again. “And your friends
can turn their backs.”
    Gee, how private. “Sorry, big fellow. I need
to be in the mood too. Privacy, romantic music, and a strapping
gentleman with a nice muscular chest.”
    Striker’s brow had been furrowed, but it
smoothed at this. “I have a nice muscular chest.”
    “I’m sure you do. And if we go up to your
cabin, you can show it off to me.”
    “And you’ll show off your chest to me.”
    “That’s generally how these things work.”
Ankari did her best to give him a flirtatious smile. No one had
ever accused her of being a great actress, but he wasn’t the most
perceptive audience, either.
    “But the captain said...” Striker chewed on
the side of his lip. “Maybe we could...” He glanced back at the
boots. “I mean, of course we could. I’m a trusted part of this
crew. I can take a prisoner out if I want. Not like you’re going to
get away from me and run off.” He gave her a dismissive sniff.
    Whatever got him to let her out of the
cell.
    “Ankari,” Jamie whispered, “you shouldn’t...
I mean, you can’t really be thinking...?
    Either Jamie hadn’t seen Ankari pickpocket
the tool, or she had little faith in her ability to use it on
Muscles over there. Or maybe she was playing along, making this all
seem more realistic to Striker.
    “Aw, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’ll be
nice. Unless you don’t like nice.” Striker grinned. “I’ll even show
you my comics.”
    “Er, how can a girl say no to that?” Ankari
asked.
    “You can’t. You already agreed.” His
triumphant smile made her nervous. If this didn’t work and she
wasn’t able to sedate him, she had a feeling he wasn’t going to let
her change her mind later. Not easily anyway. She tried to draw
some strength from the fact that she’d had years of her father’s
training and had used it on the streets a few times. But this
wasn’t some brute from one of the roving gangs; he was a trained
soldier. He would have seen unarmed combat in all its variants at
some point in his career, and he would have an answer for her
attack unless she caught him off guard.
    The force field dropped, and she was out of
time to second-guess