The Price of Freedom (23 page)

Chapter Seventeen

No matter what she did, Bethany simply couldn't get through to him. He was kind to her, and very considerate of her physical needs, but there was always something missing when he looked at her. There was no sparkle in him, only sorrow. Not that he would dream of discussing his pain with her. No. Jess was too strong for that. Or at least he was pretending to be.

They were approaching Dalaron Station. As soon as they arrived, she would finally know where her future lay. If Jess had a message from Logan then they already had a home waiting for them. If not, there were several other planets which seemed to hold promise as possible destinations. Either way, they would be making a decision about where to go soon. It couldn't come fast enough for her. It had taken nearly three weeks to travel the distance from Karos, deep within Imperial territory, to Dalaron Station.

Every day the baby moved within her. Her stomach formed a gentle mound, and every instinct within her cried out for the stability of a home.

Now they approached the station, Jess carefully maneuvering the ship into the docking area. She sat beside him in the cockpit, watching his fingers fly across the controls. It was still amazing to her how much he had managed to teach himself about flying. The computer helped him, of course, providing him with simulated runs and technical manuals. He'd had thousands of hours to practice while they were traveling. She'd been doing a bit of studying of her own, and had discovered that he was very close to being qualified for a pilot's license. No matter where they decided to go, he would never have trouble finding work. Pilots were always needed, even more now that the Empire and the Saurellian Federation had called a truce. Interstellar commerce was starting to flow again, after years of war.

They entered the docking cradle with a gentle nudge, and then her stomach gave several flip flops as Jess turned off the ship's artificial gravity, tapping into the station's generators instead. It only took a brief second for the station's gravity to kick in, but it seemed like an eternity to her. Against her will, she leaned over and vomited suddenly into the sturdy plastic bag she'd taken to carrying with her everywhere. Her morning sickness had started to settle down several weeks ago, but the shift in gravity was just too much for her.

Jess was by her side instantly, pulling her hair back and supporting her head as her breakfast came back up. He made soothing noises, and she could feel tears building up in her eyes. She loved their baby fiercely, but she hated this feeling of helplessness that came over her whenever she was sick. She didn't like the fact that she wasn't in control of her own body, either physically or emotionally.

She gasped for air, slowly regaining her composure as the heaves faded. Jess eased the sack from her grasp, then handed her a small square of fabric to wipe her mouth with. He'd taken to carrying them with him at all times since she'd started getting sick. Just one more tiny thing he did to make her life easier.

She'd trade all of those little things if he would just talk to her, though. She knew he loved her; it showed in his actions. Why couldn't he trust her with his feelings?

He sat back on the floor of the cockpit, pulling her into his lap and cuddling her.

"Feeling better?" he asked after a while.

"Yes," she managed to whisper.

"I was going to offer to take you out for dinner on the station," he said after a brief pause. "I guess that might not be such a good idea, under the circumstances."

She managed to give a faint laugh, then shook her head.

"Let's not give up just yet," she said, trying to find some humor in the situation. "Who knows how I'll feel in a few hours? These things come and go, you know."

He chuckled in response, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it. She looked up into his face; his eyes were distant. He was once again focused on his own thoughts. Unable to control herself, she spoke.

"What are you thinking, Jess?"

"Nothing," he responded slowly. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the bulkhead. She rolled her eyes, disgusted.

"You're obviously thinking something," she said, trying to keep herself from sounding too upset.

"What is it? Are you worried about whether Logan has sent you a message?"

His voice was distant when he replied.

"It doesn't matter if Logan has sent for us or not," he said. "Either way, we'll find a good place for the baby. There's plenty of money. Everything is going to be just fine."

It was the same kind of platitude he'd been giving her for weeks, she thought, anger mounting.

"I'm not a child, you know," she said sharply. "I think we should discuss these things. I don't need you to take care of me."

"Oh really?" he asked, nodding toward the pan of vomit. "It sure seems like you need me to take care of you."

She pulled away from him, rising to her knees to confront him.

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," she said in a firm voice. "I accept your help while I'm sick because it makes my life easier. If a person has a partner, they can share some of the responsibilities. But choosing to have a partner and needing a caretaker are two very different things, Jess. Don't make any mistakes about that. I can handle myself."

"You don't know anything about the world out there," he replied, his voice tight. "You wouldn't last a day without me, and you know it."

"That's ridiculous," she snapped back. "I did manage to get all the way Vlaxon by myself. And if you hadn't come after me, I would have found a job and supported myself."

"Is that right?" he asked, almost sneering at her.

"Yes, it is right," she replied. "I'm not the same ignorant woman you kidnapped off the asteroid, Jess.

I've seen more ports that most people do in a lifetime by now, and I've had plenty of time to study while you've been preoccupied with your stupid little hunt for Jenner. I've been keeping my eyes open, learning things. I may not have much experience, but I am not stupid. I'm ready to take care of myself."

The passion of her outburst was a little startling, even to Bethany, and she took a deep breath after she stopped talking. Her words seemed to have an impact on him. He'd certainly shut up. He looked at her, an unreadable expression on his face, then he abruptly pushed himself to his feet.

"You've made your point," he said, not reaching down to help her up as he usually would. "You don't need me. You are a strong woman and you're more than capable of caring for yourself. I understand and respect that."

Her jaw dropped as he left the room. Nothing he could have said would have surprised her more.

Jess had never treated her like an equal, someone who could care for herself.

She heaved herself awkwardly to her feet and followed him down the corridor to the living area.

What the hell was going on in his mind now?

* * * * *

Jess sat down in front of the public data terminal. Bethany was back on the ship, sleeping. She hadn't gotten sick again, but he'd still decided it would be better if he caught a shuttle to the main port by himself. He needed to find out if Logan had contacted him. He was just paranoid enough that he didn't want to use the ship's communication equipment to check. If something had gone wrong, if someone were looking for him, he didn't want to lead them back to Bethany.

So there he sat, hands flitting across the interface, trying to remember the code words Logan had given him.

I'll set up a mailbox for you at Dalaron Station,
his bunkmate had told him before they'd left the asteroid belt.
Your keyword will be Calla, after your sister. I'll leave the message in the name of

"Jess Freedman". If you don't hear anything from me by the time three months have passed, then
don't expect anything.

Jess had wondered many times what had happened to Logan. Now that he was poised to find out, he found himself strangely reluctant to check for the message. The bulk of survivors from the Pilgrim mining asteroid, women, children, and escaped slaves, had all gone with Logan. Were all those people dead now? Had things gone terribly wrong for them? Or were they living new lives now?

Bethany had a friend with them, a woman named Moriah. She would probably want Moriah there when the baby was born. In fact, if she had Moriah, she probably wouldn't need him.

That was the real problem, he admitted to himself. Part of him was actually hoping things hadn't worked out for Logan. If they didn't have a place waiting for them with him, then Bethany would still need Jess to take care of her. Or at least he hoped she would. After her outburst on the ship he wasn't so sure anymore.

For so long he had thought of her as being dependent on him. He liked her dependency. It meant that she couldn't leave him, not as long as she needed him to take care of her. When she'd tried to leave him before, it had been like a knife stabbing though his heart. The kind of pain he'd felt when he'd realized Calla was gone…

Once upon a time he'd had Calla in his life. He had taken care of her, they had always been together. He knew his purpose in life. Then he failed Calla and she died. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't fail Bethany. He would keep her safe and provide for her. But now that he was in the position to do so, she didn't need him.

She could go to Logan, to Moriah, and she would be safe and happy. She wouldn't need him at all.

He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. He didn't like acknowledging that a part of him actually hoped Logan hadn't left a message because the implications were impossible to consider. It was better to simply check for the message and get it over with.

He touched the keys and the terminal flickered to life. Within seconds he navigated through the main station menu to the traveler’s bulletin board. He typed in his query, and then a message icon appeared before him. Holding his breath, he typed in the keyword, and the message opened.

* * * * *

Bethany woke as Jess slipped under the covers. She gave a sleepy whimper, protesting the cold air he brought with him. His arms came around her, and then he was rolling her to her back. His hand came down to touch her stomach, fingers dancing lightly across the skin.

His head dropped down, lips whispered against the mound of flesh. What was he doing?

He was talking to the baby, she realized. She lay still, not wanting to do anything to disturb him. It was the first time he'd displayed any real interest in the child within her. Against her will, moisture built up in her eyes. He really did care…

He stayed that way for several minutes, whispering and rubbing her stomach. Then he moved back up the length of her body. He kissed her mouth gently and pulled her body against his. She started to speak, to tell him how much it meant that he wanted to communicate with their child. He cut her off, lifting one finger and pressing it against her lips.

"Shhhhhhhh…"

His mouth grazed her chin, smoothing kisses along her jaw and cheek. He kissed her eyelids, her forehead, her ears—each touch soft and light as a whisper of silken fabric. A shiver of sensation wafted through her. How she loved his touch!

His body was warm and naked against hers beneath the covers, bare flesh pressed to bare flesh.

There was a special kind of heat to him, one that called her body in a way that no other source of warmth ever could. She stretched, enjoying the slide of her skin against his. Every hair on his legs, the calluses on his fingers, told the story of their time together. She could remember the first time she'd touched him like this; the excitement she'd felt when she'd seen his body on the floor in the mining complex.

Everything about him was precious to her.

She shifted, rolling into his body and raising one knee to hook his leg with hers. His thigh slipped between hers, and she could feel the rise of his erection against her side.

She ran one hand down his back, feeling the taught muscles of his shoulders as they tapered down to his lean hips. His butt was tight and firm in her grasp. She could feel his strength everywhere she touched him. She trailed her hand back up again, raking him lightly with her nails, reveling in the power she held over him. With that one gesture he stilled, every nerve strung tight in anticipation of her next move.

She froze for several heartbeats, stopping time for a moment. Then she pushed him back, pressing him to one side. He followed her unspoken directions, rolling on to his back.

He laid back his head, closing his eyes.

It seemed a signal of submission to her, as if he were giving himself to her this time. He put his faith in her, his pleasure in her hands. He trusted her.

She took a deep breath, then sat up beside him. She reached out with both hands, gripping each of his shoulders with firm fingers. She squeezed, hoping to ease some of his tension by massaging him.

Letting go in any way was a big step for him and she would do whatever she could to make it easier.

After several minutes of working his shoulders she allowed herself to move lower. Each of his nipples stood taught as she rubbed the strong, smooth muscles beneath them. Squeeze and release.

Squeeze and release. The rhythm mirrored another rhythm, that of their bodies moving together in sex.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax into the comfort of the motion. How many times had they moved together like this? Sometimes it was passion, sometimes comfort. At least once in grief.

Now she tried to infuse each touch with the love and need she felt for him, the unity that had come between them in the conception of this child. They were bound together with ties that could never be broken, ties that made them stronger and better. They were more than the sum of their parts.

His flesh grew warm beneath her hands and she felt some of his tension draining away. He looked less tense, too. He had draped one arm up and over his head, his breathing was slow and steady. Even his erection looked less urgent. He was still hard, but without the tightness that she associated with his greatness need. He was content in the moment.