She reached out a hand and caressed his chest, following some pattern, and he realized she was tracing his striations. For a moment he feared that she would be repelled, even though she had seen the markings before, and he chastised himself for worrying what she thought.
“My doctor,” she said, almost sadly, but softly, “a fish man. I don’t think I ever saw the markings under the sun before. It makes them more ...”
“Yes?”
“... colorful.”
He breathed out. “We can’t do this again, Sheridan.”
“‘Sheridan’, now, is it?”
He breathed in. “Jess.”
“Francis.”
Her mouth was very close. One of her legs rubbed up against him, and he became aware of a breast pushing against his arm. He could feel her nipple, tight and hard. Her breast felt very firm, and he knew if he reached over and squeezed it, it would be. He felt himself begin to stiffen, or rather grow stiffer; as usual, he had woken up with a hard-on.
“No,” he said. “Really, we can’t.”
“We can. You can’t finish inside me—I’m not ready for stripes of my own—but there are other ways, like we used in Laisha ...”
She leaned over to kiss him. He pulled away, but as he moved one of his hands found her breast and, as if it had a mind of its own, squeezed. He moaned. She bent forward again, tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth, gently, then rubbing her lips around his. He kissed back, turning sideways, pushing himself against her. His hand moved from her breast, around her back and down, squeezing a muscular buttock. She murmured something into his mouth.
She climbed astride him, ripping her top off, letting her breasts bounce free, and his member, straining against his underwear, rubbed the spot where her legs came together.
He sucked on a breast, licked the nipple, then flipped her over with himself on top, spreading her legs beneath him, and bent to tug down his underwear. It was then, as he popped free, that he looked up at a certain sound and saw Layanna.
* * *
Janx and Hildra were just behind her. The three stared agape at Avery and Sheridan, as if unable to figure out what they were looking at. The doorway was framed behind them, and they had obviously only just arrived.
Shock and pain crossed Layanna’s face, and a startled gasp came from her mouth. She turned away.
Avery realized he was still out (Oh dear gods) and tucked himself back in. He rolled off Sheridan and tried to compose himself, as Sheridan rolled back the other way, in the direction of her gun—too late.
Janx, his face a mask of wrath, had closed the distance between himself and the admiral. With his blackened right hand he grabbed her by the throat and hauled her, feet kicking, into the air. If she’d been less distracted and more herself, she might have been able to reach her gun in time, but as it was she was helpless against Janx’s brawn. Her nails dug into his huge hand, not trying to claw him but simply trying to take some of the weight of her body.
He squeezed, and her face turned purple. His jaw rigid, he didn’t speak, just stared her in the eye as he crushed the life from her.
“Gods, bones, how could you?” Hildra said, moving forward.
Heedless of his erection, Avery climbed to his feet and approached Janx and Sheridan. “Janx—please—don’t—”
“Shut the fuck up, Doc. I’m gonna finish what I started in the Over-City.” Janx didn’t even look at him, just strangled Sheridan. At any moment Avery expected to hear her bones crack or her cartilage snap.
“Bones, you’ve really screwed up this time,” Hildra said.
“I know,” Avery said miserably. “I—” He glanced to Layanna, then back to Sheridan and Janx. Desperation filled him. He told himself to let it happen, to let Janx do what he didn’t have the strength for.
With all his will, he shouted, “JANX! STOP!”
For a moment Janx kept on, but then, as if against his better judgment, he released his grasp, just a bit, just enough to allow Sheridan to suck in a great big gulp of air.
“You have exactly one chance,” Janx told her. “For the Doc’s sakes. Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you. If I don’t like it, you won’t get a second.”
She stabbed a finger toward the base of the tree she and Avery had been coupling against, or about to couple against. Her belt was there.
“My radio,” she wheezed. “I can—call—my troops—”
“Sorry, but threats won’t—”
“Not a threat, you—idiot. My troops—are in—dirigibles.”
Janx paused. “Dirigibles.”
She nodded. With more breath, she was able to say, “How else do you—think we kept mobile—able to rendezvous with—whatever Nisaar tribe came on you first?” Some of the red was leaving her face, and the vein that had been about to burst in her forehead subsided. Avery wished he didn’t feel a pang of hurt to see her like this, but it was there.
“So what?” Hildra said. “The last thing we want are Octunggen dirigibles bearing down on us.”
“How are you going to get out of here?” Sheridan rasped. “Do you have any plan? Blunder back through the jungle to—what? Your convoy is gone, your vehicles burnt. There’s no way you could survive a trek back to civilization, on foot, through the jungle.”
Janx glowered for a moment, then, very gradually, set her down.
“What are you doing?” Hildra said. “Pitch the bitch over the side!”
Janx spat. “She’s right, doll. If she can give us one of these dirigibles, it’d probably save our lives.”
