He sat back in the chair, leaning his head against the headrest.He sat back in the chair, leaning his head against the headrest. Though he tried not to, he couldn't keep from looking at the last image on the viewer -- that of one of the twelve Ruling Queens of Ishtar with six of her consorts. Six of ten. I'm just not going, he told himself again. He got up, licked his lips nervously, smoothed his uniform, and walked out of the infir- mary, dead set on returning to his quarters. Now, he stood before the docking entrance to her ship, unable to restrain his curiosity and thinking even that, perhaps, she might be something that he needed. He remembered the way she had looked at him after he had regenerated the skin on her palm, and how he had felt like a rabbit looking up into the eyes of a sleek hunting bitch, his throat tight and he barely able to speak. It'll just be a nice dinner, he told himself, but that thought died faster than Warp 9. He knew how she had looked at him, and he knew after reading more about Ishtarian culture why she had looked at him as she did. He pressed the chime again, and the door slid back to reveal darkness lit by firelight inside. The same rich voice that had caught his attention so completely in the infirmary told him to enter and swal- lowing once, hard, he obeyed. |