Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Pleasure's Foehn by Charlotte Boyett-Compo Page A

find him unless…
    She stopped and called out to the security men. One looked around while the others keep walking.
    “Aye, Doctor?” the man snapped.
    “Do you have heat search capabilities onboard?” she inquired. The man frowned. “You mean engine heat signatures?”
    Davan took a few steps closer to the security team member. “No, I mean body heat. Can’t you just scan the ship for a position on every living thing onboard?”
    Rolling his eyes, the man threw up his hands. “I thought you might have a good idea,” he snapped. “That’s already been done.”
    “And you didn’t find him?”
    “If we had, do you think I’d be standing here wasting my time with you?” the man grumbled.
    That wild berserker that wasn’t very far from the surface at the best of times came shooting up to lash out at the security man. Davan stepped up to him—nose to nose—
    and when she spoke, her eyes were spitting green fire.
    “Not only do I outrank you, Ensign,” she said, stressing the man’s title, “but I would be willing to bet I can find Captain Ghrian within the hour without your help or anyone else’s.” Her lips peeled back from her teeth. “How much you want to bet? A day’s, a week’s, a month’s credits?”
    Obviously unaccustomed to having a woman get in his face and from his own shocked expression understandably taken aback, the security man nevertheless met her challenge with a smirk.
    “I’ll bet you two months credits that you’ll still be chasing your wide-load tail when we find him and put his ass to bed,” the security man sneered.
    “Oh, yeah?” she growled.
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    Pleasure’s Foehn
    “Yeah!”
    She stuck out her hand. “You got a deal, Morris,” she said, glancing down at his nametag. “If he’s still on this ship, I’ll find him!”
    Morris took her hand and shook it. The strength of her grip must have shocked him further for he glanced down at their joined hands with a puzzled look on his beefy face. Davan jerked her hand from his and spun around, resisting the urge to touch her ass for his wide-load comment had annoyed her no end.
    Forgetting all about eating, she went back into the sickbay, ignoring the corpsman that was ignoring her in turn and rummaged around in a box until she found an oldfashioned handheld infrared thermometer among her personal belongings. Thankful her things had been begrudgingly delivered a few hours earlier, she thumbed on the instrument’s switch, pointed the laser head toward her patient and when the pale green pulse of his life force registered on the IT’s screen dropped the instrument into the pocket of her lab coat.
    “Has he eaten?” she asked on her way out.
    “Not yet,” the corpsman growled.
    “Then feed him and be damned quick about it!” she threw over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the corpsman’s head pop up like a turtle’s from its shell.
    Having no idea how many decks encompassed the Foehn , her first stop was in engineering where she demanded a schematic of the ship’s interior. Though the engineering officer started to question her at the strange request, he stopped when he saw the narrowed, steely look in her eyes. Shrugging, he went to a computer terminal, typed in what he needed and a page printed within a few seconds.
    “If you wanted to stay cool,” Davan said. “Where would you go?”
    The engineering officer cocked one shoulder. “That depends on what you wanted to cool,” he said in a bored tone. “Yourself? A side of Bhrasil beef? A computer system?
    What is it you want to cool, lady?”
    “Doctor,” she corrected. “And I would like to keep my body cool.”
    “Try the ice deck,” he mumbled.
    Davan looked down at the schematic and blinked. “You have an ice lake on the Foehn ?”
    “We have an Ísiltíris coming in from the war zone,” the engineering officer snapped.
    “Those cold-blooded bastards like to swim in the frigid waters of their homeland and take walks during