Page 17 of Smuggler's Beauty

“Sensible choice, and one after my own heart,” Elenor said. “I have my eye on a new pair of sandals, myself.”

They trooped through the mall, Evelyn allowing herself to be guided by the other women as they clearly knew the terrain. Nannette smacked a sample of some sweet smelling pastry out of Veronique’s hand as they passed a bakery.

“It’s like you don’t even listen to the safety lectures,” Nannette said as she scowled at Veronique.

“I don’t,” Veronique said with the most elegant shoulder shrug Evelyn had ever seen. “Also, I’m willing to be poisoned for pastry.”

Hours later,they were loaded down with bags. Evelyn couldn’t remember enjoying a shopping trip more.

Shopping as a princess with one’s minders was a torturous experience. She could never trust anyone to give her their honest opinion on whether the pants she tried on highlighted her butt or not. Evelyn had always wanted to get in and out of stores as quickly as possible. Shopping on Earth had been a solitary expedition, but still nowhere near enjoyable. Purely tactical strikes made efficiently.

“Shoes, clothes, underthings, toiletries — we have the basics covered. Anything else you fancy, dear, or shall we head back?” Elenor asked, swinging a bag containing lotion and conditioner carelessly at her side. She scanned the crowd, her sharp eyes not betraying her casual gait.

“The only thing we haven’t found is a diamond and platinum encrusted blaster,” Nannette complained. “Your efficiency is unrivaled.”

“Not true,” Veronique said, giving Evelyn a nudge. “We haven’t gone to any of the sex stores. I’d bet after a hundred years without an orgasm you’d want to snag a vibrator.”

The memory of Aiden’s shiver-inducing touch popped unbidden into her head, and Evelyn felt her cheeks coloring. “I think I’ll manage. Honestly, this is more than I imagined we’d be grabbing when we left the ship.” A storefront to the left of the aisle caught Evelyn’s eye, a gilded tower of confectionery. Chocolate, caramel, exquisite painted truffles, and delicate sugar spun into light as air clouds.Mystic Morselswas written in gold script over the doorway.

“Do they carry anything pineapple flavored? I wanted to get Cairn a ‘thank you for driving my escape ship’ present,” Evelyn asked.

Veronique laughed. “Oh, he’s absolutely addicted to mass produced pineapple hard candy. You’ll have better luck in the bulk shop two levels down. Aiden loves their salted caramels, though.” This last was delivered with a smile entirely too knowing for Evelyn’s comfort.

“Is that so? I suppose he also deserves a thank you, too. All of you do.”

“Kiddo, it’s no trouble at all. It’s sort of a relief to be transporting someone responsible enough to tend to their own bodily needs,” Lillian said.

“Agreed. I’m charging triple the next time someone even mentions the word canine,” Elenor agreed. She rubbed Evelyn’s arm. “This is strange for all of us but it has been anything but a burden, dear. Now, quick sugar detour, then back to theDawn.”

Evelyn entered the candy store blinking back tears, color raising in her cheeks. She felt oppressively hot and took her hat off to fan herself for just a moment before Nannette could catch her and scold her.

She hadn’t felt this supported since she was a child, learning about Tanalian politics with her Aunt Corrie. Her honorary aunt always made Evelyn feel seen in a way no one else had. She had no doubt that her family loved her, but she didn’t think they reallyknewher at all. They certainly didn’tseeher. Her parents were busy with matters of state, her sisters were busy being groomed to take the throne. With Corrie, Evelyn never felt like an extra that production wasn’t sure they could actually continue to keep on the payroll. She could just exist in her aunt’s company.

That was how she felt around these women, hell, around theDawn’swhole crew. They didn’t expect her to be anything other than who she was, and it was a dangerously seductive feeling.

Because who Evelyn was and what she was were two very different things, two warring identities that had been in conflict her entire life. She had the feeling that discord was about to blow up in her face any day now, and she would give anything she could to protect them all from the shrapnel.

CHAPTER NINE

Sergeant Jackson Hillsstraightened the lapels on his uniform jacket as he strode down the corridor to deliver unfortunate news to the prime minister. Minister Emil Bellica was an exacting man, and keeping a tidy appearance was a well known way to temper his wrath if one had to deliver unpleasant information. Hill’s gaze flicked down to his feet, and he noted a small scuff near the toe of his left boot. He wondered if he could buff it out on a quick trip to the lavatory.

Focusing on the minutiae of his appearance was the only thing keeping his racing pulse in check. Hills’s heart had been beating in overdrive ever since he’d answered the distress call from the Amplifier research outpost earlier that evening. It was supposed to be a relaxing post. It had turned out to be anything but.

Nothing of note ever happened on that patrol; the sector was nearly deserted and the medivessel was run like clockwork by research droids. The Amplifier was compliant, and would be for the foreseeable future. So when the alarm sounded on the dash of his patrol vessel, Hills had assumed that the system was in need of an update. Procedure stated he had to disable the alertfrom inside the medivessel, and so he plugged in the coordinates and went back to the novel he was reading. There was absolutely no reason to hurry toward a false alarm.

Two hours and six chapters later, Hills had arrived. He shoved an old fast food receipt into the pages of his book and suited up to switch between ships. The airlock recognized his security implant, and the chamber went through its re-pressurization process while Hills spent the minutes wondering how long it took to master lassoing on horseback. He had some vacation time coming up.

The indicator lights dinged, and Hills removed his helmet. He waved his wrist at the door panels, and the system pinged as it his security implant. The moment the doors slid open, his stomach dropped. Instead of a sterile entryway with an inactive droid behind the counter, Hills was greeted by a twisted mass of droid limbs that obscured the security checkpoint from view.

Hills had reached for his sidearm, a non-lethal blaster that would subdue the average humanoid, and started to clear the medivessel. The research labs all seemed to be in working order. None of the data had been compromised. The droids that manned those labs had remained powered down, their scheduled testing not planned for two more rotations. The pile of droids seemed to be comprised entirely of the Security droids that had been stored in the entry level storage unit.

He climbed the stairs to the second level, dread flooding his system with every step. Knowing he would find the stasis pod empty didn’t prevent the abject shock Hills experienced when he arrived at the chamber door. The pod was left in the open position, and the rest of the chamber was left in disarray that was unusual for the occupant, regardless of stasis status. Reports always classified the Amplifier as neat, polite, compliant. The chamber looked picked over, drawers and doors left open, contents spilling out. Hills wasn’t familiar with thecontents of the Amplifier’s drawers and didn’t bother to attempt to catalog the contents. What mattered most was that the Amplifier was MIA. Who cared about the number of pajamas left behind?

Hills returned to the security checkpoint and turned the alarm off. He filled out the incident report, and then spent an hour waiting for technical to show up with the tools to determine how the breach had happened. Halfway through their analysis, his lieutenant informed him that he would be giving a report to the prime minister personally.

That was when Hills had started to hyperventilate.

Now he was moments away from meeting the prime minister, and that feeling of dread hadn’t dissipated. Hills ducked into the lavatory on the right and gave himself a once over. He buffed out the scuff on his boot and smoothed his hair down. He wished he had tweezers to pluck an errant eyebrow hair or two, but Hills acknowledged that level of grooming would really just be stalling. He took a steadying breath and exited the lavatory, continuing on his way.