Shamara

by Catherine Spangler

  Rurick appeared and slipped into the pilot's seat, shoving the magnetic clasps of his harness together. "Let's get out of here." His expression grim, he grabbed the yoke and gave the lifts a burst of power. They rose from the ground, hovering roughly.

  Hades. They could be disintegrated any moment now. Another explosion sent them listing, and the sudden blare of alarms verified that bleak reality. Rurick righted the ship, but they could only move so fast until they got outside the bay. They needed evasive action, and fast. Celie might be rusty, but she remembered the tricks she'd relied on in the old quadrant.

  "Computer, estimate the direction of hostilities," she requested.

  "60 degrees to port," said a sultry female voice.

  "Rurick, steer the ship's nose around 120 degrees starboard," Celie ordered. "Where is the control for waste jettison?"

  "Why?" he asked, revving the thrusters and moving the ship starboard, while putting more distance between them and their attackers.

  "We can dump waste matter on the lowlifes who are firing on us and use the rear thrusters to project it. That should slow them down until we're out of the bay."

  "Interstellar Council regulations state that waste cannot be jettisoned except in deep space," the computer intoned, "at least one hundred kilometers—"

  "Where in the blazing hells is the jettison control?" Celie snapped. "I'll do it myself!"

  "It's done," Rurick said, punching a pad. He revved the thrusters, expelling waste from the rear of the ship. "That's a smart ploy, Captain," he commented. "You'll have to share some other tricks sometime."

  "Sure. I'll be glad to. Assuming we get out of here intact."

  His face set in determined lines. "I have every intention of doing just that."

  They concentrated on getting out of the bay, and Celie breathed a sigh of relief when they exited. The next concern was whether or not the damage to the ship was extensive enough to compromise the hull's integrity, and then determining if they had enough power to clear Mangon's atmosphere.

  She knew they had no choice but to leave the planet. Joba was the only settlement of any size, and there was no way of knowing if their attackers could follow them to another part of Mangon. Space was their safest option for now, assuming they could make it.

  "Computer, damage report," Rurick requested.

  "Six holes in the outer hull, affecting bays one and two," the computer intoned. "They have been sealed off."

  "We won't be able to fly into space with Max down there," Celie said, concerned.

  "I put him in the airlock at the top of the ladder, in an emergency harness," Rurick replied. "Computer, continue report."

  "There is widespread external damage. Radar is at forty percent capacity; infrared sensors are nonfunctional; cameras are offline. Shots penetrating the hull damaged the primary fuel tank, which has been sealed off; the secondary fuel tank has been engaged."

  The computer continued on, giving a lengthy list of damage, including destroyed circuitry and burst pipes in the affected bays. Fortunately, the ship had ultra-advanced control systems that were already dealing with the issues.

  When the report was finished, Rurick leaned back and shook his head. "There’s a lot of damage. We'll have to pump out the bays before we can start repairs down there."

  "I didn't hear anything that will prevent us from taking off," Celie commented, sending silent thanks to Spirit.

  "No, we should be able to get clear of the planet, as long as the fuel lines from those damaged tanks don't get blocked," he agreed. "But we can't safely travel any distance until our external sensors are repaired. Then there are the holes in the hull, and those circuit panels and burst pipes to be fixed."

  Celie thought of her own ship, her heart heavy. That ship was everything to her. It held all her worldly possessions, along with the deepest expressions of her soul: her paints and artwork. It was her haven against the world…and against the memories. She couldn't bear to leave it behind. Yet, even as these emotions pounded her, the cool, analytical voice of her intellect told her there was absolutely nothing she could do right now.

  Her survival, and that of everyone else on Max's ship, depended on them getting away from Joba and off the planet. All she could do at this point was help facilitate their escape. Then, after they were clear of immediate danger, did some repairs, and things had time to calm down, she'd ask to be returned to her craft.

  She worked in tandem with Rurick as they flew over Mangon's barren terrain. The engines held steady, apparently getting enough fuel. Then he nosed the ship straight up and engaged the thrusters at full throttle, taking them away from the planet. Within moments, they cleared the atmosphere and headed into space.

  He sat back in his seat. "That was too close for my liking."

  "What were those people after?" Celie asked. "We only had food and medical supplies, and those items are abundant throughout the quadrant."

  He turned toward her, his golden eyes piercing. "Are you sure of that?"

  "Well, yes, I—" She paused, considering what she'd witnessed in Joba. "I've never seen any shortages or poverty anywhere, at least not before now."

  "You can't believe everything you see." He unhooked his harness and stood. "I've got to check on Max. The ship is on autopilot, so you can check on Raven."

  Celie hoped Rurick's employer had regained consciousness, and that his injuries weren't life threatening. "You should let Raven look at him. She has quite a bit of medical knowledge. If he's seriously injured, you might need to get him to a medical facility."

  "I don't think we can plan anything until we get the sensors and the main fuel tank repaired. But Max didn't appear too badly injured, and I'm sure he'll be fine. I'll take him to his cabin and see what he needs."

  "Raven is a gifted healer," Celie persisted. "She might be a great help."

  "I've got medical training and can treat Max. You take care of Raven and see if she has any injuries. I'm sure you both have scrapes and cuts. That one on your cheek needs attention, and I saw a burn on your back. Help yourself to our medical supplies, which are in the main supply vault. There are also extra flightsuits there that you can use."

  Celie realized that, as an android, Rurick probably had more than enough medical software installed in his systems. She had to keep reminding herself that he was a machine, because he seemed so real. "All right," she said, rising from her seat. "I'll check on Raven. Let me know if we can do anything for Max."

  "We'll be in cabin one. Use the comm if you need me." Rurick rose and strode away, and Celie admired how well he filled out his black flightsuit. He was impressive, even if he was an android. And a fascinating individual, if you could call a machine that. She'd love to study him more closely, but that opportunity wouldn't be forthcoming. She and Raven would return to her ship as soon as possible.

  * * *

  Rurick dragged Max into the cabin and dumped him facedown on the bunk. His android had been hit in the upper back, and as Rurick peeled away the charred flightsuit and synthetic flesh, he saw exposed wires and circuits. The damage was severe enough that Max had shut down all his systems. Great. Now Rurick would have to repair Max as well as work on his damaged ship. It was going to be difficult to keep Celie and Raven away from Max until he was repaired, though; both seemed genuinely concerned and compassionate individuals.

  That was commendable, up to a point, but in this case, Rurick needed to keep them at a distance. He had made a vow to his family that he would never disclose his true identity while he was traveling; that Max would present himself as the real Maximilian Rurickko Riordan. Since Rurick always honored his word, he would have to maintain the charade with Celie and Raven. Tough, but doable.

  He also needed to analyze what had happened in Joba. He was stunned by the attack, and further shocked at the caliber of weapons the attackers had at their disposal. A neutron cannon? Such weapons weren't generally used in the quadrant. He and Max carried stunners for personal safety; they had only just started ca
rrying more formidable protection after they'd made their appalling discovery about the ninth sector.

  Celie Cameron appeared highly knowledgeable about weapons and how to use them. She seemed familiar with evasive maneuvers as well. Very interesting. He would consider all these things after he got some rest. Right now, fatigue dragged at him.

  He was also hungry, so he decided he'd take care of his own minor wounds, check on his guests, and then bring food back to this cabin on the pretense of feeding Max. Naturally, his android didn't need sustenance, but Rurick did.

  He peeled off his ruined clothing and tossed it into the disposal. He had some minor burns on his chest and arms and noted gratefully that a flightsuit would cover them; so Celie wouldn't notice and wonder why an android had skin burns, burns that healed. She was very sharp, and it wouldn't do for her to become suspicious.

  The lady was also very attractive: tall and statuesque, an unusual distinction from the petite, dainty females of his society. Her coloring was striking as well: silky blonde hair and eyes the rich dark brown of a wishing stone.

  Seeing her in Joba today had been a double shock: that a woman was making the delivery and that she was so beautiful. Very professional, though, and all business. She'd proven she could take care of herself, both in her ability to handle weapons and to operate an unfamiliar ship. He found her intriguing.

  Too bad he couldn't act on the attraction he felt toward her, especially since it appeared they might be together for a while. He had to maintain the charade, and most people knew androids didn't feel sexual attraction.

  He cleaned and treated his burns and cuts. He washed his face and was putting on a clean flightsuit when his comm went off. "Yes?"

  Celie's husky voice drifted over it. "How is Max?"

  "He's going to be all right. I can treat his injuries, but he'll be confined to his cabin for a cycle or so."

  "I'm glad. He was so heroic, and I'll always be grateful to him for saving Raven."

  Max had been created to do just that—protect and rescue—but Rurick couldn't tell Celie that.

  "Raven needs to rest," she continued. "I'd like to put her in one of the other cabins."

  "Of course. You two can use cabins three and four. They're clean and ready for occupation."

  "Will do. I'll send Raven to one, but I'll remain in the cockpit and monitor the systems until you're ready to take over the autopilot or stop us for repairs."

  He would have done the same thing himself. She was careful, a necessity when traveling on long space voyages. "Fine. I'll be there shortly."

  He joined her a few moments later. She sat in the copilot's chair, gazing out at the vast array of stars. The steady hum of equipment told him that they were on the set course, and so far, it appeared the moderate pace wasn't straining his damaged ship's limits.

  "Thanks for keeping an eye on things." He slipped into the pilot's seat. "Is Raven all right?"

  "Bruised and scraped. Exhausted." She pivoted toward him, and he was again struck by the beauty of her dark eyes and the perfection of her skin, except for the ugly cut on her cheek.

  "Why didn't you take the time to tend to your face?" he demanded. His gaze drifted lower, noticing for the first time two charred gashes in the top of her flightsuit, and the red welts beneath. "Or those burns, and the one on your back? I thought you said Raven was a healer."

  Celie shrugged, as if her injuries were nothing, though Rurick knew they must be painful. "She is, but she was roughed up pretty badly. I think today's events were overwhelming for her."

  "So you took care of her but not yourself." He felt his anger rising but clamped it down. "Despite the risk of infection and the fact that we may be stranded in space for a while."

  "My injuries are minor. I'll worry about them later. I want to talk to you about returning Raven and me to my ship."

  "That's not possible," he said, checking the controls and then rising. "Come on. We're going to take care of your injuries."

  "I can deal with the burns. The issue of retrieving my ship is far more crucial."

  He was the captain, and he was responsible for the situation that had put her here. Her inattention to her wounds dictate that he take decisive action for her well being. His orders would be carried out, as they were at his palace. "Not if infection sets in and we can't reach medical facilities. Come with me. Now."

  She balked, her eyes narrowing and her hands clenching the armrests. "I'm not a crew member on this ship, and I don't intend to take orders from you. You're not the commanding officer. You're just a machine."

  "I'm capable of forcing your compliance." Leaning down, he grasped the sides of her chair, trapping her. He stared into her eyes, determined to establish the fact that he was in charge. "With Max injured and unable to command this vessel, I am the captain of this ship. The full and final authority. Make no mistake about it."

  Her chin lifted a defiant notch. "I don't care who's in charge. My key concern is to get back to my ship. My injuries are secondary. Unless my ship is damaged, I assure you I can reach medical help on my own."

  Dealing with the lady was going to be a definite challenge. That thought shot a surprising surge of anticipation through Rurick. He wasn't used to anything other than immediate and submissive compliance. He released the chair and stepped away. "We're not going back to Joba."

  She stood, facing him squarely. "I must insist that we return."

  "The decision has been made. Come." He turned and strode from the cockpit, knowing she'd follow, if only to press her case.

  "Captain Rurick." Her voice came from behind him, but he kept walking. "Captain!" She grabbed his arm and jerked him to a halt with surprising strength.

  He turned, keeping his expression stern, although he was more amused than irritated at her tactics. She was staring down at where her hand clutched his forearm, an amazed expression on her face. "You feel so real," she said. "Incredible."

  This was not good. He removed her hand from his arm. "My society's technology is truly amazing," he agreed coolly. "But I was not made to be handled."

  "Understood. I want to see Max now. I'll discuss returning to my ship with him."

  "No. I repeat, with Max injured and out of commission, I am in charge. You'll discuss the matter with me." He spun sharply on his heel and strode on.

  She followed. "Fine, then. Let's discuss it."

  "Not until we take care of your injuries." He stopped by the supply vault, retrieving the basic medical kit. "Which cabin is Raven in?"

  "Number four, but—"

  "Then we go to number three. Come." He gave her no chance to object, striding to cabin three and entering.

  She stepped in behind him paused, looking wary. "Why in here?"

  Her sudden change of attitude baffled him. "This is your cabin for the duration of your stay. It's as good a place as any." He gestured toward the bunk. "You can sit there."

  "Look, I can take care of my own injuries. Just give me the kit and a few moments."

  "You can't treat the burn on your back," he pointed out. "Someone else has to do that."

  "Then I'll get Raven and—"

  "Captain Cameron—Celie—I have the necessary medical training. Why disturb Raven, when she's had such a rough time of it?"

  "I guess you're right."

  But she radiated discomfort as she sat stiffly on the bunk. Pondering her sudden absence of bravado, Rurick sat beside her, noting the increased tension in her body. She was leery of him. Why? "I'll try not to hurt you," he said, "but the solution will most likely sting."

  She nodded, and he opened the kit. "Let's do that cut on your cheek first. Turn this way."

  She complied, wincing slightly when he applied the antiseptic to the raw skin. "Now I remember why I hate this stuff."

  "But you should know better than to let this go, even if it stings. I'm going to clean it a little more."

  He re-wet the cloth and dabbed the wound again. She had great bone structure, with high cheeks and intrigu
ing hollows beneath. Her nose was straight and regal, her mouth suggestively lush. Her skin was like the finest Sarnai satin, smooth and rich with golden undertones. He wondered if she were that smooth all over.

  Discomfited by his thoughts, he shook them off and reached for the salve. "This will help prevent infection." He spread it over the cut gently and applied an adhesive bandage. That done, he reached for the top of her flightsuit. "Now for the burns."

  She drew back, her hand going protectively to her chest. Great. Not only was he battling an unprecedented attraction to this woman, but also her apparent distrust of him and her resistance to authority; the latter two something he had never before encountered. Although he hated the deception, he knew it would be the easiest way to do what must be done.

  "Look. Being what I am, I'm no threat to you or any woman," he reminded her. That much was true. He usually had the opposite problem of having to turn women away.

  "I keep forgetting you're an android." Celie hesitated a moment, then nodded. "You're right." She ran her hand along her flightsuit seam, opening it all the way down. She paused, then shrugged and slid the top completely off. She removed her ruined undershirt as well.

  Totally unprepared for that, Rurick could only stare at her generous breasts. They were beautifully rounded with rose-tinged nipples. His body reacted immediately and painfully. Swallowing hard, he reached for the medical kit, clumsily knocking it to the floor. Gods!

  "Sorry about that," he muttered, sinking down and hastily gathering up the contents. "I must have hit it too hard."

  "Androids are stronger than humans."

  He came upright, with the kit in his hands and found himself eye level with those lush breasts. "Right." He hoisted himself back onto the bunk, fumbling with the kit. Get a grip, he told himself. This is strictly a professional situation. It wasn't Celie's fault her bare breasts had turned him into an idiot. She thought he was a machine.