Sweet Starfire

answer.
    Fred hummed a little in response and undulated up into the bunk to settle on Cidra’s stomach. Then he began shifting his pliable body in a rhythm that didn’t take him anywhere but seemed to emulate the stroking movements Severance’s hands were making.
    “It’s all right, Cidra. It’s all over. Can you hear me? All over. You’re safe now.”
    Very slowly some of the unnatural tension seemed to seep from her body. Beneath his hand Severance could feel the gradual unknowing of the muscles in her arms. Her head began to move restlessly. He kept talking to her, muttering meaningless words of comfort. Even though he knew there was no instant cure for the Screamer’s results, Severance decided to get Cidra to the nearest med facility. If nothing else, they could tranquilize her into unconsciousness.
    Her lashes lifted just as he started to get to his feet. Instantly he knelt again beside the bunk.
    “Cidra?”
    She seemed to have trouble focusing on him, but at last she realized who was beside her. Her lips moved, shaping soundless words. She touched her tongue to the dry surfaces and tried again.
    “Is the castle… safe?”
    “Everything’s safe, Cidra. Don’t try to talk. Just try to sleep. It’s the only way out of this. Try to sleep.”
    “I know you left Fred in command,” she whispered, “but they were going to shoot him. There wasn’t anybody left… except me.”
    Relief poured through Severance as he realized that she was starting to breathe normally. It didn’t look as though he would need the med facility after all. Gently he continued stroking her.
    “We’ll talk about it when you wake up. Go to sleep, Cidra. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”
    He watched her relax slowly into unconsciousness, and then he got to his feet once more. He studied the two men lying near the cargo bay while he unlatched the courier pack he had just picked up from a patron. It was being sent to Renaissance, and die shipper had been most anxious that it travel under computer lock. To humor him Severance had performed the little drama of latching the pack to his wrist. It was an ancient shipping custom that could still impress customers although Severance privately thought it wasn’t very practical as a security technique. But it seemed to have reassured the patron. It had also taken up precious time.
    Dumping the pack carelessly into a nearby storage bin, Severance went toward the cargo bay to investigate the intrusion that had apparently caused Cidra to pull the Screamer. With the toe of his boot he nudged one of the unconscious uniformed men onto his back. Then he went down on one knee and pulled out the man’s certification card.
    For a long time Severance studied the port security identification. It appeared almost genuine. It would easily have fooled Cidra, who wasn’t accustomed to double-checking a stranger’s ID.
    The second man was sprawled halfway through the cargo bay opening. His arm still lay across the shipping container bearing the red COD seal.
    Suddenly it all made sense to Teague Severance.
    All except one small matter.
    Twenty minutes later, as Severance Pay lifted off for the long trip to Renaissance, Severance was still pondering the fact that Cidra Rainforest must have gone against everything she had ever been taught when she’d used the Screamer to stop two safeguards from stealing the shipment.
    A postman could do worse than go into space with a woman who was willing to risk her life for the mail.

Chapter Four

    Cidra’s first thought when she awoke was that a giant torla had accidentally stepped on her head. Such a thing could only happen accidentally, as torlas were too stupid to do anything on purpose except eat. They were also too stupid to move once they had accidentally stepped on someone. So, of course, Cidra assumed, the beast was still crushing her.
    Unless, of course, this was the first assault in a war of revenge against the human population of Lovelady. If it was, Cidra could hardly blame them. The big, dumb, placid torlas had become a prime source of meat shortly after the First Families arrived. Knowing torlas, it might have taken them two hundred years to wake up to the fact that they had an enemy.
    “I’m a vegetarian.” Cidra didn’t even try to open her eyes as she squeaked her protest. The torla on her head didn’t move.
    “I know,” came the response from somewhere to her right.
    “Just one more problem. Here, I’ve got some ‘gesics. They