Chapter One
The doors to the pilots’ bar on Decadent Moon slid open. The
opaque glass gave privacy to the people who made their chits flying among the
stars. On the opposite side of the bar was a window that looked out onto the
ice planet below. Silva drew in a reverent breath.
The view was spectacular and always made her gasp. The
shining white-and-blue surface glistened invitingly. Now that was natural
beauty. While Decadent Moon was a manmade marvel and a testament to engineering
feats, it was also a reminder what an obscene amount of chits and a desire for
everything could produce. The planet below stole the spotlight from the sexy
shows and legal drugs. The icy surface was crisscrossed with what appeared to
be a web of delicate lines. But those lines were canyons that had swallowed
whole ships. No one who went down there ever returned.
Lethal beauty. She loved it. A smile formed. Best
view in the galaxy? Definitely in her top three.
The aerial forest of Jhela-3 couldn’t be rivaled.
Trees growing on clouds, giant winged creatures and insects as big as she was.
The week hiking there had been the trip of a lifetime and had taken a huge bite
out of her savings. But what was the point of piloting cruise liners for the
rich if not for the chits and the sights?
The moment she got tired of flying or seeing new worlds she’d
quit.
Silva wondered how many other pilots in the bar said the
same thing. Her gaze shifted to the occupants of the bar, most gave her a nod
after checking out her uniform. It was a rather bright red emblazoned with the
corporate logo and her name. There were a couple of aliens in the green
uniforms of a rival company that ran smaller more personalized tours. Even a
couple of aliens in plain clothes, private pilots perhaps? Then her gaze slid
to the two men in the dark blue of the Allied Planetary Military. One was Amayan, tall and fine boned with skin like midnight, and the other was a Klokian .
His skin was as white as the ice below. Her heart kicked over as the long
tentacles that grew instead of hair, fur or feathers lifted off his head, as if
he was noticing her arrival without even turning.
For one mission in the APM she’d had a Klokian military police officer on board. Filid had been amazing and fascinating, his
culture so different from hers. He’d been the only male to ever even tempt her
to break the no-fraternization rule. But they’d come close once. An almost kiss
that hadn’t even involved lip contact, just the soft brush of a tentacle over
her cheek. That touch had promised so much more before he’d done the right
thing and pulled away, leaving her aching for something she could never have.
His tentacles had fascinated her. They weren’t alive in
their own right—not like some species who had formed a symbiotic relationship
with another creature. On a Klokian they were like extra limbs, or
sensory organs. The Klokian were telepathic and it was their tentacles
that picked up the thoughts for them to read.
Filid had let her touch them once after they’d had a couple
of drinks and their guard had been down. Tentacles no thicker than her finger
had wrapped softly around her wrist, caressed her skin. Heat had flared in his
eyes that she didn’t need to be telepathic to read. And she’d no doubt he’d
been able to read her like a plex screen. She’d wanted him even though
she couldn’t have him—not without them both losing their jobs. After that
there’d been less-than-accidental contact, as if they were magnets that
couldn’t pull away. Despite the risks, they’d danced around each other even
though they both knew it couldn’t go any further.
The untapped desire had frustrated them both to the point
where lust had become anger. They hadn’t parted friends. She shivered as the
memory swirled through her blood and twisted in her belly. Never fixing things
with Filid was the one regret she carried.
Later she’d watched pornos on her plex about the
things those
The doors to the pilots’ bar on Decadent Moon slid open. The
opaque glass gave privacy to the people who made their chits flying among the
stars. On the opposite side of the bar was a window that looked out onto the
ice planet below. Silva drew in a reverent breath.
The view was spectacular and always made her gasp. The
shining white-and-blue surface glistened invitingly. Now that was natural
beauty. While Decadent Moon was a manmade marvel and a testament to engineering
feats, it was also a reminder what an obscene amount of chits and a desire for
everything could produce. The planet below stole the spotlight from the sexy
shows and legal drugs. The icy surface was crisscrossed with what appeared to
be a web of delicate lines. But those lines were canyons that had swallowed
whole ships. No one who went down there ever returned.
Lethal beauty. She loved it. A smile formed. Best
view in the galaxy? Definitely in her top three.
The aerial forest of Jhela-3 couldn’t be rivaled.
Trees growing on clouds, giant winged creatures and insects as big as she was.
The week hiking there had been the trip of a lifetime and had taken a huge bite
out of her savings. But what was the point of piloting cruise liners for the
rich if not for the chits and the sights?
The moment she got tired of flying or seeing new worlds she’d
quit.
Silva wondered how many other pilots in the bar said the
same thing. Her gaze shifted to the occupants of the bar, most gave her a nod
after checking out her uniform. It was a rather bright red emblazoned with the
corporate logo and her name. There were a couple of aliens in the green
uniforms of a rival company that ran smaller more personalized tours. Even a
couple of aliens in plain clothes, private pilots perhaps? Then her gaze slid
to the two men in the dark blue of the Allied Planetary Military. One was Amayan, tall and fine boned with skin like midnight, and the other was a Klokian .
His skin was as white as the ice below. Her heart kicked over as the long
tentacles that grew instead of hair, fur or feathers lifted off his head, as if
he was noticing her arrival without even turning.
For one mission in the APM she’d had a Klokian military police officer on board. Filid had been amazing and fascinating, his
culture so different from hers. He’d been the only male to ever even tempt her
to break the no-fraternization rule. But they’d come close once. An almost kiss
that hadn’t even involved lip contact, just the soft brush of a tentacle over
her cheek. That touch had promised so much more before he’d done the right
thing and pulled away, leaving her aching for something she could never have.
His tentacles had fascinated her. They weren’t alive in
their own right—not like some species who had formed a symbiotic relationship
with another creature. On a Klokian they were like extra limbs, or
sensory organs. The Klokian were telepathic and it was their tentacles
that picked up the thoughts for them to read.
Filid had let her touch them once after they’d had a couple
of drinks and their guard had been down. Tentacles no thicker than her finger
had wrapped softly around her wrist, caressed her skin. Heat had flared in his
eyes that she didn’t need to be telepathic to read. And she’d no doubt he’d
been able to read her like a plex screen. She’d wanted him even though
she couldn’t have him—not without them both losing their jobs. After that
there’d been less-than-accidental contact, as if they were magnets that
couldn’t pull away. Despite the risks, they’d danced around each other even
though they both knew it couldn’t go any further.
The untapped desire had frustrated them both to the point
where lust had become anger. They hadn’t parted friends. She shivered as the
memory swirled through her blood and twisted in her belly. Never fixing things
with Filid was the one regret she carried.
Later she’d watched pornos on her plex about the
things those
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