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  Rory sighed. "To think that humanity explored the stars and left their cocks behind."

  Boralle grinned again. "Not really. We all enjoy a good orgasm whenever we want one—did I mention this comes in the male version too? But we don't have to face the problems that sex brings with it. It's quite logical."

  "Logical yes, but impersonal and cold, Boralle. There's more to sex than a quick fuck, you know. More to sex than just...just...having a good come." Rory gulped, overcoming his warrior-like reluctance to discuss the nitty-gritty of the sexual act.

  "Not a whole lot, my fine Scottish Laird," answered Boralle dryly. "When it all boils down to the fundamentals, what else is there?"

  Rory stared at her, wondering where to begin. "Ah, lass..." He let his lips curve slightly as his eyes left her face and wandered over her body. "You ask me what else is there. That's what I'm here to show you..."

  Her body moved slightly as if in response to his gaze, which had reached her feet and was now traveling back up—slowly—to her face.

  She blushed.

  He smiled.

  "Is there somewhere we could walk, Boralle?" he asked, eyes fixed on her breasts.

  "Um...walk?" She cleared her throat awkwardly.

  Her nipples were beading as he watched them, and a little zing of pleasure ran through his balls at the knowledge she was responding so well to him. "Yes, walk. This is a small wee room. It's a bit stifling in here and I need to stretch my legs. Do you have someplace we could just walk?"

  "Well...I...er..." She stuttered a little and shifted her gaze awkwardly away from his face. "We could walk the corridors I suppose...how do I explain you to the crew?"

  "You won't have to. I am here for you, Boralle. No one else. You are the only one who can see me."

  "Really?"

  Rory smiled and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips and brushing them back and forth across her knuckles. "Really."

  "You need clothes."

  "I'm wearing a..." Rory glanced down. "I forgot. 'Tis no my plaid."

  "Your what?"

  "My plaid. My tartan. Fabric that bears the colors of my clan." He sighed. "I can't describe it. You'd have to see it. 'Tis as bright as the heart of a Scottish lass and vivid with the colors of sunshine." He smiled.

  Boralle smiled back. A genuine smile that warmed Rory's heart.

  "Well, I don't think we have any of that in the Clothation vent, but let's find you something." Boralle walked to a small control panel, threw a measuring glance over at Rory and twiddled dials.

  "Stand under the vent, would you please? And remove the blanket?"

  Unhesitatingly, Rory followed her instructions, letting her have a good look at the McAllen weaponry while he was at it. He was gratified to see her eyes widen and he watched her throat move as she swallowed.

  "Ahem. Now, just extend your arms upwards and we'll see what we can manage."

  A draft brushed Rory's skin and stirred his hair, then a thick and viscous black liquid oozed from the vent and began to slither over his body.

  Within moments a pair of dark shiny pants, not unlike leather, had firmed around his lower half, but his top was left bare.

  Boralle frowned. "That's odd."

  "They fit well enough?" said Rory.

  "No, I meant that no shirt was provided." She twiddled knobs again, but the vent emitted nothing but a sigh.

  "Well, I'm sorry. It looks like that's all we can provide for you."

  "It'll do me fine, lass. They're excellent braies, don't you think?" Wickedly, Rory grinned at her and turned around, knowing she was looking at the planes and contours of his broad, naked chest.

  "Um, yes."

  "I like them, and I thank you. Now. We were going out?"

  Boralle swallowed once more and dragged her eyes away from his body. He hid his satisfaction and kept his expression calm, in spite of the demons that were dancing within his mind. He really wanted to arouse this woman. She had fire buried in her, he was positive of it.

  "All right. Let's take a walk, shall we?"

  He followed her from the cabin into a long, dismal, gray corridor, and listened to their feet thudding on the steel lattice beneath them. It seemed endless.

  "Are there no windows in this rather dreary ship of yours?" asked Rory, feeling even more claustrophobic in the corridor than he had in Boralle's quarters.

  She chuckled. "Oh yes, we have windows. But you have to be in service for several years on the same ship before you get a cabin that has one."

  Rory sighed. "This is not the greatest walk I've had," he admitted.

  They passed more corridors, equally gray, equally dreary. It was quiet, almost hushed.

  "Where is everyone?"

  Boralle glanced at the chronometer that was part of her suit. "Right now, most everyone is working. Preparing legal arguments, working on negotiations, researching, writing, filing, meeting with higher ups, kissing ass with higher ups..."

  Rory picked up on the bitterness in her tone. "Problems with higher ups, Boralle?"

  She snorted. "Only that when you're the youngest and most recent crew member, you get the real shit jobs. I wish I had an IMU for every time I had to make a duplicate datacard of something we've already got twelve duplicates of. Or the times I've had to run and fetch javeine for people who could perfectly well have fetched it for themselves."

  "So you're not working now because..."

  "Because the mighty powers-that-be have decided to make me the sacrificial goat for the Frallien Olympiad. I'm allowed more off-shift hours now, so that I can practice with the TUNG booth. Got to have bigger and better orgasms, so that I can score bigger and higher numbers and make the CGC look good."

  "The CGC?"

  "The Central Galactic Court."

  Rory raised an inquiring eyebrow as Boralle slowed her march to a stroll and allowed him to casually slip his hand into hers.

  "The Central Galactic Court," she began, "was formed several hundred years ago, when Earth Central began seriously exploring, colonizing and interacting with nearby neighbors in our quadrant."

  Rory squeezed her hand slightly, indicating his interest.

  "It was quickly recognized that some kind of regulation would have to apply to such interactions, otherwise lawlessness and anarchy would run rampant. As indeed it did, for a short but bloody time." She shook her head. "I'm not even going to go into that. It's over, thank God."

  She glanced up at Rory. "We needed laws. Laws that were fair, applicable across the board to all species, and that could be easily translated and administered." She stopped before a very small porthole that gave Rory his first glimpse outside the ship into the wonderful universe full of glittering stars and magical worlds.

  He stood behind Boralle, looking over her head into infinity, and caught his breath at the beauty of it.

  "It was a new frontier, Rory, and it needed order, and some semblance of justice. Not all planets were advanced enough to contribute representatives, or to fully embrace the complex legalities that were developed. So, in answer to this need, the Central Galactic Court was formed. It's sort of like..." She paused, searching for a way to describe it, "...like a traveling judicial system."

  She turned away from the porthole.

  "We visit planets who don't have their own interspatial legal system set up yet, and we help them with their legal issues. We adjudicate, offer them a court system if they need it, and help them understand the intergalactic laws that are currently in effect. Occasionally we negotiate for them in disputes, or assist them in settling internal problems."

  She raised her chin proudly.

  "My last assignment was in helping Lesser Canis create its very first charter. It was a great job and the Canisians were most appreciative."

  Her lips curved into another of those delightfully genuine smiles.

  "Gave you a nice party, did they?" said Rory, grinning back at her.

  "Well, not so much a party as a rite of purification. Very important on
Lesser Canis, and quite beautiful. It's said to restore innocence and virginity." Boralle's smile gave way to a blush.

  "Really?" The interest in his voice gave Rory away, and Boralle turned with a cough to continue their walk.

  "Yes. Really."

  "So, did it work then, lass?" He could no more have held the question back than he could have stopped breathing.

  "I guess we'll be finding out, won't we?"

  *~*~*~*

  Rassing hell, what was the matter with her? She was acting like some low-gig pleasure droid, getting all silly over a man.

  Mind you, he was one hell of a man to get silly over.

  She slanted a quick look at him as they strolled down another of GSC-131's endless miles of corridor.

  His bones were strong, lending a look of masculine beauty to his face as the high cheekbones and firm jaw told a tale of man at his most attractive. She knew his body was damn near perfect, honed, muscled and warmly hard to the touch. Her fingers tingled at the thought of touching him again.

  As if he read her thoughts, he once again slipped his fingers around hers, encompassing her hand in his larger one, and making her feel...feel...what?

  Safe? Protected? Secure?

  She didn't know. An assortment of new emotions were running wild through her flesh, and not a one of them made any sense to her.

  Of course she was safe and protected. And secure too. She was on familiar territory in a CGC ship. Why should another's touch make her yearn?

  Gently, she eased her hand away from his.

  "Perhaps you might like this, Rory," she said, to cover her withdrawal.

  He let her go, but she had the funniest notion he had seen her maneuver and acknowledged it for what it was. A scared retreat. But before she could lead him off the corridor, footsteps interrupted them.

  Boralle tensed, then remembered Rory had said he was invisible to all but her. She hoped, for once, that such an impossible thing might be true.

  Coming down the corridor at a brisk clip was the one person she'd rather have avoided. Officer Durwood Lefton. The same sig-ops Officer Durwood Lefton who'd been harassing her about her limited sexual skills for the last few weeks.

  "Well, well, well," boomed his loud and nasal voice. "If it isn't little Boralle North. Going in to the holo-vid for a bit of practice, are we?"

  Boralle raised an eyebrow at him. "Practice?"

  Lefton sneered. "Well, dear, seeing as the whole ship knows you can only get a three on the cummeter...I would say practice is in order, wouldn't you?"

  Boralle felt Rory move behind her, and realized with astonishment that Lefton truly was unaware of his presence. "Stand a little straighter, Boralle," Rory's voice was a mere whisper against her ear.

  She followed his instructions.

  "Ask him what he scored."

  "You know, Lefton," said Boralle, wondering where this was going, "I never did hear what your score was?"

  Lefton's chest puffed out. "Me? Why I scored a high four, you know."

  "Really? A high four?"

  "Now run your hand through your hair, slowly..." Rory whispered again.

  Boralle did as he said, only to realize that Rory's hands were now sliding up her body to cup her breasts.

  Without realizing it, she licked her lips in anticipation and sucked in a breath. Her nipples hardened at Rory's touch. She could feel it, but to the casual observer it was simply a reflex action.

  Casual observer Lefton swallowed.

  "All by yourself, huh?" continued Boralle, getting the general idea. She leaned back a little and let her weight fall on one leg as the other bent slightly.

  "Lick your lips again, and keep them apart this time, then move your hips forward, just a fraction."

  With her breasts thrust forward and her lips gleaming, she appeared suddenly wanton and extraordinarily feminine. Of course, the fact that Rory was gently stroking her breasts certainly helped. He was turning on her sex-appeal, she realized.

  Well rass. She never knew she had any.

  Obviously, Lefton didn't either, but he was now getting an eyeful of it.

  "Er, listen, North...if you want, I could give you a few tips, you know? Get that score up? If you want to come to my cabin?"

  "Officer Lefton!" said Boralle, chidingly. "You know that is completely in violation of I don't know how many regs. Besides, I'm in training. Can't sully myself with inferior equipment."

  And with a scornful glance at the rather modest bulge in his uniform, Boralle swung open a door and stalked through, making sure Rory had followed her before she shut it in Officer Lefton's stunned face.

  She crumpled into silent laughter.

  "Oh God, I enjoyed that," she hiccupped. She kept her voice low, but clutched her ribs with mirth. "He's such a pompous jerk."

  "I gathered as much," said Rory wryly. "It only took about two words. Are there others like that?"

  "Most of the ship."

  "How do you stand it, lass?" The question was clearly meant to be humorous, but it came out as genuine concern and stopped Boralle in her tracks.

  "I never realized what I was missing," she said honestly. "I guess I never spent time with anyone who wasn't a pompous ass before now."

  "Well, thanks for the compliment. I think."

  "You're welcome."

  Rory looked around. "Where are we? Looks like some technician's nightmare."

  The room was surprisingly large and cluttered with a tumble of electrical conduits, flashing panels, oddly-shaped power units and the low hum of contented technological equipment.

  "This? This is the holo-vid center."

  "Aha. Where you have your holo-romance adventures?"

  Boralle grinned. "Actually, I only ever had one, and that was with a girlfriend back in my educational years."

  "Seems you're a wee bit overdue, lass," said Rory absently, wandering around the room and marveling at the intricacy of the electronics. "Can you show me how it works?"

  "Sure." Boralle crossed to a large and relatively clear control panel and placed her hand palm down on a sensor unit. She turned her head and looked back over her shoulder at Rory.

  "Where would you like to go?"

  "Anywhere you are would be heaven." Rory's answer brought the color to her cheeks, and she lowered her eyelids, shielding her eyes from his gaze.

  "Umm..let's see...oh, I know." She turned back to the panel and touched a few more controls. "This is one of the most romantic places I can think of. Just perfect."

  There was a hum followed by a loud buzzing sound, and the room flickered, darkened and then brightened again.

  The surroundings were now quite different.

  Well, almost quite different.

  "Er, Boralle?"

  She sighed as she looked around her. "Yes, isn't it lovely?"

  Rory McAllen looked at the medium sized cabin with gray walls, gray flooring and a slightly larger bed than he and Boralle had shared.

  "Well, that's a pretty impressive machine." His voice was a little strained and Boralle turned to look at him.

  "This is the pleasure quarters of the CGC-14. She's a real beauty. One of the few in her class built for speed and luxury. I got to visit aboard her once for a legal conference. What a wonderful treat that was. Every convenience, everything new, and everything working..." The walls to Boralle's left fizzled a bit as the last words left her lips. She frowned at them and they solidified again.

  "Ah."

  "Well, can't you see?"

  "See what?"

  "The huge bed? And Rory, look here," Boralle crossed to the bed and ran her hand gently and appreciatively across the spread. "Genuine pseudo-silk velvet. And it's red." She stretched out on the bed and sighed.

  The Laird McAllen looked at the spread.

  The color was somber, slightly richer than rust, and probably could have been loosely called red at some point, if all ambient light from the upper end of the spectrum was removed.

  Boralle's face fell as she saw R
ory's less-than-ecstatic reaction. "You don't like it."

  "Oh, no, sweetheart. It's wonderful, and it's romantic, just as you said." Rory moved over to slide onto the bed beside her. "It's just a wee surprise, that's all."

  "So. Are we ready to start now?"

  Rory paused, and looked at the woman lying next to him. Her soft blonde hair sifted through his fingers, her blue eyes watching him carefully, waiting for his first moves, and her body settled in, poised for action, ready for its adventures. It was the body of an athlete, a fighter, a woman who was constantly on the move.

  It was not, unfortunately, the body of an aroused lover.

  He had his work cut out for him.

  Chapter 6

  So what the rass was he waiting for?

  Boralle tamped down her impatience, and watched him, wondering what was going through his mind. His eyes were impossibly green as they roved over her face, and the feel of his fingers playing with her hair was quite soothing.

  "Are you more comfortable with ma touch, lass?" he asked quietly, moving his other hand to her cheek and just lightly grazing it.

  "I'm...I'm getting used to it," she admitted. She smiled slightly at the soft burr of his voice and the odd little expressions he used.

  Hah. In all honesty she was beginning to crave his touch. His warmth, his strength, the tenderness that peeked out at odd moments as if it were a part of him that he wasn't even aware of.

  Even his scent was becoming familiar to her, a mixture of man and musk and heat that coiled deep within her belly and started an answering fire.

  She was astonished that her body would react so strongly to the presence of another human. She wasn't even sure if the TUNG could arouse her quite like this.

  Tentatively she reached out her hand, stopping short of his face. He smiled and leaned in, letting her palm rest against his cheek.