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He snapped out of the dream. Pay off his debts and what then? Continue on the path to self-destruction? Or use this opportunity to start the slow journey back to the man he once was? Could he even remember that person? And try to avoid touching me.
50 Essential Science Fiction Books
I know all about the effects of the marker and I need to clear my head. To think. If what you say is true, this is big. Secret Channel Elite Bounty-Hunter big. Shula clicked shut the cabin door, taking care not to wake the sleeping child.
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Now she knew why the act of mating had been relegated to the strict confines of the marital bed. She sucked in a deep breath and willed the raging tide of marker and emotion to abate. The marriage contract ensured that protocols were adhered to. That neither partner became overwhelmed by the torrent of feelings and sensations the act could so easily unleash. Prince Cristan smiled in his sleep. Could an empath this young pick up real thoughts and feelings?
She hoped not. The baby smiled again and she scrabbled frantically to empty her mind and focus on more practical matters. Clean clothes. Where would she find those? The tiny drawer set in the cabin wall held only two pairs of undergarments, and a black tank-top.
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The closet, even less. Shula pulled out a grey military-style jacket and held it against herself.
It fell to mid-thigh, but would suffice while her own clothes dried. She quickly disrobed and slid into the coarsely-woven jacket. Her skin immediately began to itch. It would have to do.
She scratched at the rash already breaking out on her left breast and cracked open the door to the corridor. All clear. Shula dived for the door to the smallest bathroom in civilisation. Enough room to turn, but nothing else. And no lock. Best be quick then. She dropped the jacket and stepped onto the shower-mat. Nothing happened. And no signs of any dials or touch-pads that might activate the water-stream.
List of stories set in a future now past - Wikipedia
Eventually, after prodding each of the metal wall-tiles in turn, a lukewarm trickle of water dribbled from the shower-hose. Not what she was used to, but pure heaven after two days on the road. Shula tipped back her head and let the water stream over her face and hair. A line of itchy bumps now spread from her breast down to her navel.
Frowning, she examined the rash and wondered if the captain kept salve on board.
For the first time, she envied the tanned, lusty bodies of the immigrant peasants who worked the fields and heavy industries of the southern provinces. Leaning forward, Shula gathered up her hair and twisted it to wring out what she could of the water. The snarls in her hair would take a lifetime to comb out. Just leave your hair alone, okay? And hurry up. Got an energy top-up any moment now and I need to be away before they realise how much I owe them.
I want us off-planet before sunset and I need me a shower before we go. Tan her hide? The words had caused another burst of marker, although she had no idea why. Thank the goddess for the sturdy metal door blocking any chance of the marker reaching the captain.
No need to waste her virtue now he seemed willing to carry her and Cristan without the added inducement. The rash had now reached the top of her thighs. The itch intense. Endure, she thought.