Deep Indigo: Orion, Book 4

by Cathryn Cade

  Nelah stared at him. The fool. With one little surge of power, she could bring him and his friend to their knees, begging for mercy. Then she would be in through those doors. She would command the crew members to obey her. How she would laugh as they steered the ship toward disaster. Perhaps a nice little collision with another ship? Or a nearby meteor shower might be fun.

  “Ms. Cobalt?” The guard was frowning at her now. Of course—he’d accessed her ID and had her name and passenger profile instantly.

  The sound of her name snapped her out of her trance. “Yes, thank you,” she managed, forcing the words past her dry lips. “I—I’m sorry. Lost, I guess.”

  She turned and forced her legs to carry her back down the passageway. Perspiration broke out on her face, but she was shivering, cold and reeling. She’d just contemplated forcing a crew member to do something.

  Something was wrong with her—horribly wrong. She could no longer delude herself that it was the result of her experiences.

  She needed Navos.

  She ran for the nearest elevator, but she could not escape the soft, taunting laughter echoing in her mind.

  The receptionist at PanRra Corporation offices looked up with a professional smile as a tall, lean human walked up to the sleek console which enclosed her. Then she remembered she was supposed to be in mourning and sobered, settling her hair decorously around her throat.

  “Good morning, sir,” she said with a melancholy tinge to her smooth voice. “How may I help you?”

  She blinked as he turned the force of his silver gaze on her. Oh, my. This was a dangerous man. She wondered if he was one of the IBI investigators and as quickly cast that notion aside. He held himself as if he were accustomed to being in charge of the space around him.

  “I’m Logan Stark,” he said in a deep, quiet voice that nevertheless held steel. “I’m here to see whoever is in charge, now that your boss is dead.”

  Sifting alternatives, she nodded respectfully. “Yes, sir. Please, come with me.”

  Logan Stark! Why, everyone in this office knew who he was—the head of the huge LodeStar Corporation and Rra’s most hated rival.

  She would take him directly up to the executive floor. They would know what to do with him.

  She ushered him upstairs in the lightning-fast executive elevator and left him with Rra’s personal assistant, whose green face was wan and pale.

  The receptionist couldn’t believe the twit was actually mourning his dead boss. She certainly wasn’t and she knew most of the other corporate employees weren’t either. Rra had ruled the company like a cruel despot. Lately there’d been talk he was off his plant-stand.

  As she rode back down, she sighed. She might be of a different race and happily married besides, but she knew an attractive man when she saw one. Logan Stark not only exuded power, but sexual appeal.

  Lly eyed the man seated across the huge desk, just as he was eyeing her. She carefully schooled herself to calmness. She’d come this far, she wouldn’t fail now. No one knew she’d been anything but an innocent bystander to Rra’s death, a near victim of the megalomaniac madness that had lately afflicted him.

  “So you’re acting in command of the company,” said Logan Stark. “Until the heir shows up.”

  “Yes,” she politely. “I was Rra’s executive assistant until recently, so I know all that is necessary to carry the company through this difficult time, until his nephew arrives.” Fortunately Rra hadn’t troubled himself with such niceties as a board of directors, so there’d been no one to step in her way.

  “The heir’s a school boy, isn’t he?” Stark asked.

  She nodded. “In his last year at university.”

  One of his bold eyebrows arched ever so slightly. “He’ll no doubt need guidance for a time, until he assumes control.”

  She raised a brow back at him and nodded.

  His eyes hardened and she felt a thrill of palpable danger. “You and I had better come to an understanding, then, Ms. Lly. I don’t know what happened on your boss’s balcony and I don’t care to.”

  His implication struck home. If he did care to probe, he could cause her a great deal of trouble.

  “What I do care about is my company and my ships,” he went on. “Which lately have been the target of one attack after another. The IBI and my people have been investigating and the tail of the comet seems to point straight to this office—to PanRra.”

  Lly clenched her hands tightly together on the desk. He could prove nothing and even if he could, Rra had been in charge, not her.

  “I’m distressed to hear this,” she said. She let her gaze fall to her hands and then lifted her eyes to meet his again. “I—I scarcely know how to say this, Mr. Stark, but…Rra had changed. He was not the man I once knew. I believe he suffered from a disorder of the brain, which caused him to undertake certain…unwise actions.”

  She lifted her chin proudly. “I can assure you, however, such things will no longer occur. The PanRra Corporation will once again operate as the honorable company it once was.”

  He gazed at her for a long moment, in which she felt as if she were being stripped bare. Then he nodded once.

  “It had better,” he said. “Because if I have so much as another hint of trouble, I will personally see to it this company is dismantled down to the smallest hovie.”

  She bowed. “Understood.”

  He rose and she rose with him.

  “There is…one more thing,” she said hesitantly. Her heart was pounding and her hair enwrapped her throat so tightly she could hardly breathe.

  He turned back to her, his face hard. She crossed the room to him quickly before she could lose her courage.

  “I…cannot guarantee,” she murmured, “that Rra hadn’t already hired someone who is even now conspiring to harm one of your ships. Someone of unusual powers. An Indigon, perhaps.”

  She was really frightened now and she knew those silver eyes missed nothing. Part of her could not believe she was daring to reveal so much. But she knew Loftan Cyan’s kind. If he was not dealt with, he would return until the coffers of PanRra were drained.

  Logan Stark looked down at her and then nodded. Message received.

  “Thank you,” he said aloud. “I’ll look into it.”

  And he was gone. She made it the few steps to a nearby chair and sat abruptly, burying her face in her hands. Her hair fluttered about her like grasses in the wind.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Navos rose from his chair at the command console and turned toward the hatch that led to the elevators. Craig was speaking, but Navos no longer heard the words. Something was wrong.

  Nelah. For hours, worry about her had been niggling at him, distracting him. He’d calmed himself by locating her in the ship. Finding her going about normal shipboard activities, the mess hall, the gym, even a yoga class, he’d forced the unease to the back of his mind. Now he could ignore it no longer.

  “Daron?” Craig said, “are you with me?”

  Navos did not answer. She was coming.

  One of the elevators opened and she emerged. The guards on duty turned toward her.

  “Daron?”

  Something was very wrong. She was pale, wavering as if she barely had the strength to remain on her feet. She saw him through the floor-to-ceiling windows that surrounded the command deck and reached out one hand to him. Her face contorted and she lifted her other hand to her head as if it hurt.

  One of the guards reached for her.

  “Leave her!” Navos commanded, already striding out of the hatch toward her.

  He crossed the passageway to her, reaching for her shoulders. “Nelah—what is it?”

  “Come to me.” Without warning she was in his mind, her voice seductive as a courtesan. “Come, I need you. Take me somewhere where we can be alone.”

  Grabbing her head in her hands, Nelah pressed at the sides of her skull. She shook her head in violent denial.

  “Nelah, what is it? You must tell me.” />
  “No!” She screamed the word with both her voice and all her psychic power. Repelled by the force of her defense, Navos reeled back a step and stared down at her, horror dawning.

  “Daron,” said Sirena, at his elbow. “She’s behaving very strangely. Is she another—?”

  Denial surged through Navos in a great fiery wave.

  “She can’t be,” he snarled without taking his eyes off of Nelah. “Nelah—”

  “Help me!” Nelah cried out to him. “Daron, help me. I—I’m going mad!”

  “We must know,” the Serpentian insisted.

  Navos looked into Nelah’s eyes, a cold fist gripping his gut. “Nelah. Let me help you.”

  “No,” she pleaded. “Don’t try to come into my mind. You—you’ll hate me.”

  Her legs crumpled under her and he swung her up into his arms. She seemed impossibly light.

  “I’ll help you,” he promised, with steely resolve. “Whatever it is—I won’t fail you.”

  “The infirmary?” It was more of a demand than a suggestion from Slyde.

  “Yes,” Sirena agreed. “We’d better begin with a mild sedative. She appears to be going into shock.”

  Shivering convulsively, Nelah lay quiescent. Navos looked down at her. “No sedative,” he said harshly. “I’ll calm her.”

  Carefully, he sent his power slipping into her mind. He nearly crumpled to the floor with her in his arms at what he found there. Her mind was a morass of confused emotions—fear, confusion and rage swirled, battering at her.

  His heart broke. Was it as he feared? Was her feminine psyche too fragile to contain her powers? Had the events of the past days been too much for her?

  Summoning every sliver of his self-control, he cradled her close, sending gentle waves of soothing into her mind. He could afford no more intrusion just now. She might also be physically ill. Perhaps her immunity was compromised in some way by her mental fragility. She wasn’t—couldn’t be—another one of Cyan’s dupes. He wouldn’t allow it.

  Tentaclar was waiting in an exam cubicle when they arrived.

  “Ah, our young Indigon female,” he said as Navos laid her on the gurney. He put one hand on Nelah’s arm, patting it gently. “What seems to be the trouble?”

  “She collapsed,” Navos told him. “I’m not certain if it is psychic or physical.”

  “I see.” The doctor bent over Nelah, his eye stalks waving gently. “Nelah, can you hear me?”

  She opened her eyes and tried to smile. It was a pitiful attempt, as her eyes were dark with terror. Navos tightened his grip on her hand.

  Tentaclar parted the dark hair over her ear. “Is your head injury troubling you?”

  “What injury?” Navos demanded. “Nelah, you’ve hurt yourself? Why was I not told?”

  Tentaclar regarded him with interest even as he continued to examine Nelah’s skull.

  “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut. “I fell…weeks ago. A few days after graduation. Had stitches, that’s all.”

  “Knocked unconscious, though,” Tentaclar said. “She may be having repercussions.”

  A terrible foreboding began to creep through Navos like a dark, looming shadow. “Nelah—where did you go to have these stitches?”

  She opened her eyes with an obvious effort and gazed trustingly into his. “Cyan took me—someone called him when I fell. He was…actually kind to me that day.”

  He touched her face gently, cradling her cheek. “Flower, where did he take you?”

  She frowned with effort. “It—it was the…the Mazarin Clinic. Right up the hill from the university.”

  Navos heard a gasp. Tentaclar’s eyes swung in sharp unison to meet his. The Mazarin clinic. Nelah had been unconscious and at the mercy of Beryl Mazarin. And now she was in psychic turmoil.

  He looked down into the eyes of the woman he loved and wanted to scream his rage to the stars. Nelah might be another victim of Cyan and Mazarin.

  “Nelah,” he said softly. “The doctor must examine you. I’m afraid there may be repercussions from your…surgery.”

  She clutched at his hand. “You examine me,” she pleaded.

  He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her silky skin. It was damp and cool, too cool. “No, I…can’t. But I will be right here.”

  If she had an implant, he dare not probe too deeply into her mind, or he would find himself enmeshed in a struggle with both her and Cyan. For he’d little doubt now who was tormenting her.

  The bastard had probably arranged for her injury in the first place, either with a psychic nudge to her balance on the stairs, or by forcing another student to push her. There were always people about the campus, even during session breaks.

  “All right. If you want me to,” Nelah said.

  “She’s dehydrated and her blood sugars are much too low,” said Tentaclar. “We’ll start an intravenous first. She’s evidently not eaten or drunk anything for quite some time.”

  Tentaclar gave her a sedative with the IV. Navos watched as her long lashes drooped over her tormented eyes. As soon as she was asleep, two med-techs carefully passed the molecular scan unit over her skull. The results were displayed on a large holo-vid over her head.

  At first Navos hoped all was normal. The incision site and the nearly dissolved stitches showed clearly, but as the scan slowly moved under the skin, his heart plummeted, free-falling into an icy void. There was a small slit in her skull.

  “Yes, you see?” murmured Tentaclar, pointing to an area under the skull, between the brain lobes. “There it is.”

  The thing was nestled secretively between the lobes of her brain and out from it snaked tendrils connecting it to the cerebral cortex. As they watched, it pulsed rhythmically.

  Navos felt a warm hand clasp his shoulder, but it did nothing to combat the ice spreading in his chest. Why, why had he not seen this thing? How could he have missed it?

  “We can help her, Daron,” said Craig. “We’ll fly her to Indigon on a fast shuttle. She’ll have surgery immediately.”

  The others were silent and Navos stood there, staring blankly at the holo-vid.

  He was going to find Mazarin and Cyan and kill them. Slowly, so they twisted in agony and begged for death. And then he would give it to them.

  If he was punished for it, that was only what he deserved. For if he’d confided in her, had brought her into the investigation as she’d begged, she would have mentioned this surgery and its location days ago. He could have saved her this torment. She’d only wanted to help.

  “She’s the fail-safe,” he muttered. “The final subject. This is why Cyan gave way so easily when I battled him for control of the boy. He was only testing me.”

  He rose and turned to the others, unable to bear the sight of the thing in her brain any longer. “From the tangle of her thoughts, I must now conclude that she was…supposed to get me alone, seduce me. And then in an unguarded moment—kill me.”

  “Great Serpents,” Sirena hissed. “And she alone would’ve been blamed for it.”

  “But what would be the point of that?” Slyde asked, his heavy brows furrowed. “I know you and Cyan are rivals, but how would that destroy the Orion? For surely that’s the reason for this whole thing?”

  “That would be next,” Craig said shrewdly, watching Navos. “If she’s as strong as Daron, she could have forced any crew member to do anything she commanded—run the ship into a meteor shower, or right into the nearest moon, for that matter.”

  “But that didn’t happen,” Sirena said. “Navos has—”

  “Navos has condemned her to hours of torment and now a life-threatening surgery,” Navos cut in, his voice icy with self-disgust. “My arrogance has cost her dearly. If I had listened to her when she asked to help with the investigation, we would have known all this long ago.”

  “Never mind that,” Craig said sharply. “The question now is—how in the seven hells are we going to catch this guy and stop him, once and for all?�
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  “Perhaps we can lay a trap,” Slyde said thoughtfully.

  “Out here?” Craig asked, one brow shooting up. “How would that work?”

  Sirena exchanged a look with her husband. “I think Slyde has more of a long-distance trap in mind.”

  He nodded and their eyes swung to Navos.

  “No,” he said icily.

  “Did I miss something?” Craig asked quizzically.

  Navos turned to him. “The guard commanders wish to use Nelah as bait for a trap. But I will not allow it.”

  “We could wait until she wakes and ask her,” Sirena said. “Of course, that might be too late…for the Orion and for her.”

  Craig’s brows shot together. He turned to Tentaclar. “How long before she wakes up?”

  “At least an hour,” said the old doctor. “She’s exhausted.”

  Craig nodded. “We’ll speak with her then. Call us when she wakes, will you?”

  “My answer will not change,” Navos said without turning away from her.

  No one argued. After a moment, the others stepped quietly out.

  Navos had plenty of time to think while he sat and watched over Nelah. The doctor sat with them for a while, but a Barillian child was carried in with a large vegetable wedged into the pipe protruding from the top of his skull, both his parents trumpeting their distress. They were soon closeted in another cubicle with the doctor.

  Navos scarcely noticed the commotion. He watched Nelah sleep. He’d never been one for useless imaginings, preferring to deal with reality. But now he found himself wishing desperately he could whisk her away from all of this, take her somewhere safe where none of this could touch her—where Cyan and Mazarin could never reach her.

  Only he wasn’t sure such a place existed. He didn’t know how far Mazarin’s evil device could reach, but if it were even partly as efficient as the mechanical ones, the range was probably large.

  He was also certain Cyan would never stop tormenting them. He wanted Nelah’s money and Navos’s life. He’d also evidently been paid to target the Orion and LodeStar.

  Even if they could get Nelah to safety and get the device removed in time, would she ever really be safe? And if they were not in time, how many beings would die, possibly at her hand?