The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) by Chris Eisenlauer

Author:Chris Eisenlauer [Eisenlauer, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Chris Eisenlauer
Published: 2014-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

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Scilia Moro dallied in her cabin. For accommodations on a guild ship, her cabin was luxurious with space, with light, with equipment—as was appropriate for quarters belonging to the captain. She knew she should be on the bridge, especially now while in the middle of a firefight with the Patrol, but she’d been overcome by the strangest sense of languid euphoria. She’d never felt like this before. The closest thing she could compare was when she’d given over just the once and indulged in Cryonyte during the guild’s early smuggling days to see what all the hype was about. The high was something like what she was feeling now, but she remembered a manic quality to the euphoria then which was altogether absent now. What she felt now wiped out her every ambition, made her want to give up all she’d already achieved, leave both the pirate guild and the Patrol far behind, and start over with. . . with someone she didn’t know. . . No, that wasn’t right—with someone she didn’t know existed.

She’d had many lovers, but had settled for none of them. She had attained her captaincy on her own, with no help and despite plenty of interference. Many used to joke that her ship, the Sasahn, was the only lover she wouldn’t cuckold, and she’d begun to wonder herself. Now her ship was the farthest thing from her thoughts. Now she was helpless, both offended and encouraged by her own wet hand, bedridden by a malaise of lust and the phantasmal promise of real and total fulfillment. Who was he? Where was he? She felt like she knew, but clarity was just out of reach and it was maddening.

Reports had been coming steadily from the bridge. The anomalous botanical mass had shown signs of being inhabited, had put up a mild offense before the arrival of the Patrol had forced it to resort to full defense. The Patrol’s resources were, as rumors indicated, depleted and this might make for their last stand. The biological deterrent the guild scientists had come up with had all but destroyed the Patrol’s outposts and it was only the activity therein that had brought the guild out here to investigate. She sighed as these thoughts filled her head and suppressed her more provocative but less productive feelings. She rose, nude, from her bed, shook her mass of wild black hair, and dressed quickly in a pair of tight brown britches, a band of elastic material to bind her breasts, a white linen shirt, too big for her, and a thick coat over this that reached down to mid thigh. She strapped her gun belt around her waist, checked the heavy Farmington pistol in its holster to ensure a full charge—this particular ritual had saved her more than once in circumstances that one never would have guessed called for a Farmington—and exited her cabin.

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