Kerry turned and surveyed the kitchen, taking in the touches she'd added over time to soften its spartan functionality. A set of imported cooking pots hanging over the stove here, a well oiled, interlaced wood chopping block there...she took pride in her ability to produce edible meals for them, and enjoyed having plenty of tools to do it with.

Also, the stainless steel refrigerator doors were now dotted with colorful magnets, brought back by both of them from various airports they'd either passed through or been stuck in, and the tiled backsplash displayed plates likewise acquired from all over. Kerry especially liked the one nearest the stove, a tacky hunting scene that featured a near perfect replica of their often naughty but much beloved pet, Chino. She ran a finger over it with a smile, then turned to dump a package of pasta into the now boiling water.

"Hey, Ker?" Dar's voice drifted in from the living room.

"In the kitchen," Kerry responded.

"Did I leave that damn folder in there?"

Kerry pushed away from the counter and turned in a circle, studying the available surfaces. "No," she called back. "Thought you stuck it in your briefcase." She wandered out of the kitchen and headed for the corner where they'd both thrown their laptop cases the previous night. "I'll get it."

Caught in the act of getting up from the couch, Dar collapsed back into it and curled up again. "Thanks."

With a tug, Kerry retrieved the somewhat battered folder and crossed the living room, setting it down on the coffee table. She took a seat next to her partner's feet, reaching over to tweak a toe under its pristine white cotton sock covering. "How's the belly?"

Dar narrowed her eyes and growled.

"Hmm...well, if it's any consolation to you, I'm getting that kinda achy feeling myself," Kerry admitted. "Which doesn't really surprise me, because we're usually right on time together."

Dar growled again, but flexed her toes against Kerry's thigh. "Least we're both miserable at once," she conceded. "You think that's what made the past few days even more stressful than they were anyway?"

Hm. Kerry considered the question. She wasn't often bothered by PMS either, though she did have a tendency to be a bit more emotional a few days before. Add that to the stress of dealing with Dar's first girlfriend and Michelle Graver challenging them at every step? "Yeeeah, maybe."

The socked feet flexed against her thigh again, and Kerry gave them a pat before she leaned forward and got to her feet. "Let me go get our lunch."

Dar poked her with a toe as she eased past, and smiled at the pink tongue stuck out in her direction. Then she returned her attention to Quest's requirements, wincing slightly as a cramp twisted her guts. With a soft grunt, she tossed aside the initial document which she'd already gone over, and drew out the set of technical specifications, easing down to put her head on the couch arm as she started to leaf through the pages.

She spotted several big problems straight off. The hulks Quest had gotten his hands on were old as the hills--two of them were steamships, for god's sake, and the rest were retired passenger liners he'd dug out of mothballs somewhere.

That meant, she realized, they had zero infrastructure. Most had been built before computers, and the idiot wanted to outfit them with the latest available technology. "Jesus." Dar clucked under her breath and shook her head. "Jackass wants to put laser video in the Merrimac."

"Did you say something, sweetie?" Kerry called from the kitchen.

"Nah," Dar replied, lifting her head a little as she sniffed spicy pasta sauce in the air. "Just going over this stuff." She went back to reading. Quest wanted a computerized hotel system, a point of sale, connection to the damn Internet, and--Dar had to look twice, voice over IP telephony. "Jesus," she repeated.

"No, just me and some noodles." Kerry appeared at her side, bearing two steaming bowls. She set them down on the coffee table and resumed her perch at Dar's feet. "Parmesan?"

"Uh huh." Dar watched as a small snowstorm of freshly ground cheese settled on the surface of her pasta. "Are those little meatballs in there?"

"Yup." Kerry dusted her own bowl with the cheese. "Last time I made sauce, I froze some." She set the grater down and handed Dar a fork. "So what are you cussing about this time?"

Dar stabbed a forkful of pasta and lifted it toward her mouth, pausing as the utensil came into her close line of focus. She pulled it back a little and peered at the sauce covered bits, then she selected the last one on the fork's tines and pulled it off, holding it up to examine it. "Kerrison?"

"Mm?" Kerry grunted around a mouthful.

"Why am I eating a disk drive?"

Kerry swallowed and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "Ah." She reached over and pushed the bit of pasta toward Dar's mouth. "My guys gave me a thank you basket for helping out at the con. It was full of nerd things, including a bag of nerd pasta shapes. I figured you were the perfect person to share it with."

"Ah." Dar ate the disk drive, and studied the forkful of pc's left to consume. "Feels sorta cannibalistic, but all right." She chewed the mouthful and went back to the report. One finger pointed at a paragraph, and she pushed it toward Kerry as she swallowed.

Kerry edged over on the couch and started reading. Her brow creased. "Dar, am I reading this right--he only wants one set of cables run?"

"Uh huh."

"Does he realize what that's going to cost in equipment?"

"He wants it on a shoestring."

Kerry slowly ate a mouthful of her lunch. She swallowed before she answered. "Dar, you couldn't do that on Paul Bunyan's shoestring."

"Telegenics says they can." Dar replied. "They told Quest fitting it into his budget was a no brainer."

A snort answered the statement. "Obviously whoever told him that didn't bother to use a brain. Dar, you know damn well doing this right's going to cost."

Yes, she knew that. Dar worked her way through her lunch bowl, eyeing the familiar shapes all the while. "Well, let's wait till we see the real deal," she said. "Maybe it's not as bad as the description seems to show."

Kerry tapped the edge of her fork against her lip. "All right. Sounds like it's all we can do," she conceded. "Maybe when we lay the plans out, he'll realize what it is he's asking for. After all, it's his job to try and get everything he can for as little as possible."

"Eh." Dar flipped to the next page. "His timeline's impossible, too." She frowned. "How long did he say it would take those ships to be hauled here?"

"Two weeks," Kerry recalled. "Can they do it by then? Wonder why he had to pull out of New Zealand? Damn, I was looking forward to going there."

Dar set her bowl down. "You know, that's a damn good question." She pulled her laptop over and rolled onto her back, putting the machine down on her stomach and typing on the keyboard. "Did he mention where in New Zealand the ships were located?"

"Auckland." Kerry leaned over and watched the screen with interest. "You think he was lying?"

Dar keyed in a request, and waited, scanning the responses as they flicked across the monitor. "I think outfitting six ships means big bucks for somebody. Now why..." She drummed her fingers on the keys. "Why would 'somebody' throw away those kind of big bucks?"

Kerry rested her elbow on Dar's knee and looked at the list of shipyards now displayed. There were only six, but though she racked her memory, she couldn't recall Quest mentioning any of the names. What had he said? Just that the ships were somewhere in Auckland, being worked on.

Dar called up one of their info-parsing agents and typed the names of the companies into them. "Now." She paused as she got to the intelligent language question field. "How would you tell if a shipyard suddenly lost business?"

"Not stock." Kerry mused, as Dar shook her head. "Layoffs?"

"Too soon."

"Newspaper stories?"

Dar nodded. "Let's see what that gets us." She typed rapidly into the field and hit enter, and then watched the small running dog in the corner dash merrily away. "Okay." She half turned and set the laptop back down on the table. "So maybe that'll answer your question from last night." She put her head back down on the couch arm and picked up the report again.

Kerry extended a fork full of pasta toward her partner. "Maybe," she agreed, smiling as Dar closed her teeth over the offering and removed it. "I'm going to throw the stuff in our overnight bags into the washing machine. Got anything else you need to go in?"

"Thought it was my turn to do that this week." Dar gazed at her. "You did it last week."

"Mm...yes, it was your turn." Kerry put a fingertip on her partner's chin and lifted it slightly. "But it seems some little nerdy gremlin got all my office clothes dry cleaned for me when I wasn't looking. I don't suppose you have any idea how that happened, huh?"

Dar smiled charmingly at her.

"And somehow my car got mysteriously washed and waxed while we were gone. Any ideas?"

The charming smile grew wider.

"Uh huh. I thought so." Kerry leaned over and gave her a kiss. "So I'm going to go grab your dirty clothes from the closet and get those suds going." She pushed off Dar's hip and stood, collecting the dishes from the table before she sauntered off toward the kitchen.

Dar let her hand fall on the forgotten papers, taking a moment to enjoy the simple feeling of warmth inside her left by the look of indulgent affection in Kerry's eyes. It even eased the cramps some, or at least she convinced herself it did as she stretched out, and then curled her body up again into the dark leather.

She took a moment to look around the living room, which for so long had simply been 'the condo' to her. Plain white walls and mostly monochromatic furniture had graced it since she'd moved in, providing her with a pleasant, if unremarkable place to throw her car keys at the day's end, and lay her head down for those long tropical nights.

It had never been her home. But now it was their home, and from the colorful Mexican throw rug over the love seat to the framed photograph of them both on the entertainment center it had become a part of her in a way she never thought it would.

That was why, she acknowledged in silence, she'd gotten so wired being around Shari. It brought back memories of what her life had been like for so long, and had provided a reminder of everything she had to be thankful for now.

She never wanted to take that for granted. She never wanted Kerry to take it for granted either, though she'd never gotten the feeling that her partner felt that way. It was more an impression she got that Kerry considered their relationship a natural part of her life and expected it to remain that way forever.

Kerry had no doubts. Dar didn't have any doubts about Kerry, but the last week had made her wonder if she didn't still have some doubts about herself.

Which, frankly, sucked. She'd thought she'd gotten past that. It was aggravating to say the least, feeling again those tiny darts of insecurity pricking at her.

Dar sighed. Maybe it had been PMS. Certainly today, now that she'd started, the doubts seemed to have vanished completely replaced by a feeling of rock solid stability she'd become used to over the last year.

Kerry strolled across the tile in front of her, heading for the bedroom. "Crocodile Hunter marathon this afternoon...you up for it?"

Dar grinned, releasing a happier sigh. "Sure." She hesitated. "Hey, Ker?"

"Yeeesss?" Kerry paused in the doorway, leaning back into the room.

"Thanks."

"For the laundry?" Kerry laughed. "You forgot the last time I did it I washed your whites with my burgundy sweatshirt and we both ended up pink in inappropriate places."

"I like my pink bra," Dar remarked mildly. "But thanks anyway. I don't really feel like standing over the machine today."

Kerry winked. "I figured. No problem." She disappeared into the bedroom. "It'll be my turn soon enough. You can get me hot chocolate."

Chino wandered over and climbed onto the couch, circling twice before she settled down at Dar's feet, resting her muzzle on Dar's ankle.

"It's a deal," Dar murmured. "Best deal going, matter of fact, right Chino?"

"Gruff."



Chapter Eight



KERRY HEARD THE soft ding of mail arriving into her inbox. She swiveled around in her chair and rolled her trackball, glancing at the sender and the subject and stifling a curse. "Oh, pooters." She clicked on it anyway and read the text. "Crap, crap, crap."