"Nessa! Wait up!"
She turned to see Jarek hurrying down the hill. He grinned when he saw the lanrax. "I'm glad you're taking Turi. He'll be good company on the trip."
Nessa stroked Turi's soft fur. He was one of the few joys in her life. She couldn't leave him, although she refused to think what might happen to him if she didn't make it to Santerra in time.
"I wanted to see you off," Jarek said.
"Oh." She was so accustomed to her lonely existence, it hadn't occurred to her anyone would concern themselves with her departure.
"Let me escort you to your ship." He fell into place beside her. They headed toward the cliffs, where deep caves carved into the sheer rock expanses hid the Shielder spaceships. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
After a short climb up a steep embankment, they entered the cave where Nessa's ship stood ready. The transport shuttle had seen better days. It didn't appear very space worthy. Given the importance of her mission, she had expected a military class ship. At least the shuttle was a model capable of light speed.
"I'm sorry this one is so old," Jarek apologized. "But we feared a defense interceptor or scout ship would raise suspicions. Pilgrims traveling to a shrine wouldn't be likely to travel in such ships."
Nessa nodded, pushing back her disappointment.
"Your computer has been pre-programmed with flight instructions," he continued. "The ship will operate on auto pilot and fly directly to Santerra. You won't have to do anything except monitor the equipment." He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. Turi hissed warningly at this close intrusion by another person.
"Nessa, listen to me. Maybe I was wrong to allow you free reign of Liron's computer system. You're probably more knowledgeable about computer programming than anyone in the colony. We both know you're capable of overriding this ship's computer and disabling the flight instructions. I'm asking you not to do that. Let the auto pilot do its job and fly the ship. I don't want you taking any unnecessary chances. You should reach Santerra in one week, three weeks ahead of full incubation."
Barring any number of unforeseen problems, Nessa thought. Four weeks. She only had four weeks before Orana ravaged her body. She didn't plan on taking any chances. "I'll leave the computer alone, Jarek. When I reach Santerra safely, I'll send word."
He didn't look reassured. "I wish you hadn't volunteered for this mission. Elder Gabe had already offered. He's old, and has lived a full life. You should have kept quiet and remained here where you're safe."
"I don't want to be safe. What good is safe when I have no life? I want to help our people."
"And you think they will honor you for your efforts?" Jarek gestured toward the direction of the colony.
He knew her well. She had long fantasized about again becoming an accepted member of the Shielder colony. Of regaining love and respect from her parents. Dreams best left unspoken.
She turned toward the shuttle. "I'd better be off."
"Wait." Jarek withdrew a small pouch from his tunic. "Even though your ship will travel directly to Santerra, I want you to take these, in case you need them for any reason."
Nessa heard the clink of precious coins as he pressed the pouch into her hand. Her heart swelled at his generosity and sudden tears glazed her eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered shakily. "Good-bye, brother."
Jarek dabbed at the moisture in his own eyes. "The Spirit be with you, sister. Take great care."
Then he did something no one had done since Nessa's first seizure.
He hugged her.
CHAPTER TWO
She was stranded in space.
Only two days out, the main stardrive quit functioning. Nessa had no expertise in repairing stardrives, but it wouldn't have mattered if she had. A search of the ship's engineering bay revealed no spare parts. Spaceships of any kind were in short supply among Shielders, much less parts.
Ships seldom traveled this area of the sector. She would have to send out a distress signal, even though transmitting any signal presented risks. She could attract space pirates, Anteks—or worse—Controllers.
But she had no choice. Her only other option was waiting for the Orana to incubate fully. That would solve the problem of her miserable existence, but wouldn't help her people. Genuine fear gnawed at her. Realizing how badly she wanted to live surprised her.
She activated the signal.
A ship responded within two hours. Nessa was crouched in front of the open stardrive casing, studying a technical schematic, when the incoming message alert activated. She scrambled up and went to the cockpit. Before answering the hailing ship, she studied the sensor readings.
The approaching ship appeared much larger than her craft, possibly three or four times in size. Although the sensors classified the ship as a private long-range cruiser, they also indicated it was loaded to the hilt with advanced scanning equipment and considerable armaments.
Only Controllers or their agents were allowed to operate spaceships so equipped in this sector. Dread settled over Nessa, but she knew she had to answer the hail or raise suspicions. She opened voice communication.
"Who are you and what are you doing in this sector?" a male voice roared over the communicator. It was a deep, resonant, arrogant voice. Not the wavering, whispery utterance of a Controller. But the voice could belong to an Antek.
"I'm Nessa Ranul," she answered, dropping the dan from her name. Only Shielders used the system of naming sons and daughters after their fathers. "I'm on a pilgrimage to Zirak to honor our mother goddess Shara."
"Turn on your holo transmitter."
She raised the hood of her pilgrim robe over her head, grateful the computer had provided thorough files on the cult worship of Shara. She pressed the pad, watching the screen. No visual appeared. The man had not turned on his transmitter. He could see her, but she couldn't see him. She stood stiffly while he completed his one-way perusal.
She jumped when he suddenly barked, "Why is your distress signal on? Are you ill or injured?"
His curtness offended her. Although she couldn't see the man, Nessa decided she didn't like him. She stared levelly at the holocorder. "My stardrive is inoperable. I need assistance repairing my ship."
He snorted contemptuously. "Pilgrim, your ship looks older than your sun. I don't have the parts you'd need for repairs, and I doubt they would be for sale anywhere. When I get to the next star base, I'll send a tow ship for you."
Alarm edged aside her intensifying dislike for the man. With the Orana growing inside her, she couldn't wait for a tow. If her ship couldn't be repaired, she needed a ride to the nearest transport. Jarek's coins would ensure her passage to Santerra. "It could take days for a ship to get here from a base," she argued, struggling to keep her voice calm. "I can't wait that long."
"I don't have time to play rescuer. A ship will be here in a week. If you're low on supplies, I can give you some. What do you need? Be quick about it."
A week! Full-blown panic surged. Nessa searched for words to convince this insolent, cold person to help her without revealing her true identity. "I can't wait a week. I need to get to the shrine of Shara. I must be there for the eclipse. Please, you have to help me."
"I don't have to help anyone. If you don't need supplies, I'm on my way."
"No, wait!" Nessa felt beginning tremors and feared she'd have a seizure then and there. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to calm. "The eclipse coinciding with the festival of Shara occurs only once every fifty seasons. I'll never again have this opportunity to receive the full blessing of the goddess."
She paused, mentally sorting arguments. "Take me with you. You can leave me at the star base. I'll catch a transport from there. Please. This is very important."
A long, tortuous interval of silence ensued. "How many are aboard your ship?" he finally demanded.
Nessa hesitated, surprised. His advanced scanners should have provided him that information.
"Answer me. How
many?"
"Just one."
"That's odd. I'm picking up two life forms. I don't give passage to people I can't trust. No deal."
Her thoughts whirled. His readings made no sense, unless—Turi. "I also have a pet on board. But he's the only other living creature on the ship. I swear on the goddess."
"I don't give a flying meteorite about your goddess." An irritated sigh rumbled over the com. "But since you foolishly carry no viable armament, you probably won't last the week against pirates if I leave you here. Prepare for boarding."
Relieved, she sagged against the console, easing the weight off her throbbing leg. The arrogant voice thundered through the com again. "You may bring only what you can carry. I'm not a freighter service. And be fast about it. We leave in five minutes."
Seeing no need for further discussion, she nodded and cut the visual. She rushed to gather her few belongings. The pouch with the coins went into the inside pocket of her tunic. She slipped her magnasteel dagger, the only weapon she'd managed to keep in her possession since her injury, into her boot.
She filled a large knapsack with her meager food supply. Turi went, chattering in protest, into a smaller pack. "Hush," she told him. "Not a peep out of you."
Her last act was to erase all records from the computer. No information that might lead to Liron could be left behind. The Controllers offered persuasive rewards to those who found Shielder colonies. Their determination to wipe out the only race capable of resisting their mind domination was fanatical.
As she finished activating the delete program, she felt the thud of a ship docking with hers. Her rescuer, whoever—or whatever he was—had arrived.
Nessa slipped the small pack with Turi over one shoulder and picked up her supplies. She walked to the airlock as the panel slid open. The man stepping through the panel towered over her, but he wasn't an Antek. The apelike Anteks were stupid brutes. She sighed in relief, realizing her rescuer's obvious intelligence should have negated that possibility. The innate ability to sense her own kind—which all Shielders possessed—told her he wasn't a Shielder either.
He was large, with broad shoulders and an impressive chest. The black flightsuit stretched taut across his muscled frame emphasized his size. Cold gray eyes pinned her to the spot, glaring at her from a harsh, chiseled face. Dark blond hair brushed against the top of his shoulders. Distracted by his appearance, she realized belatedly he had an activated stunner trained on her.
He moved quickly for his size, striding to her and skimming her with a hand scanner. His sudden loud sneeze sent her heart pounding even faster. "Blazing hells, the dust in here! Your air filtration system must not be working properly." Scowling fiercely at her as if that were her fault, he resumed scanning. "Remove your weapon."
Defiance was risky, but Nessa hesitated giving up her only protection. "What weapon?"
His eyes narrowed to silver slits. "The weapon in your boot. Don't play games with me. One more challenge from you, and I'll leave you here to rot. Is that clear?"
She nodded, slipping the dagger out and offering it to him. He slid the scanner into his flightsuit and took it, his large hand engulfing hers. He sneezed again.
Muttering under his breath, he whirled and strode to the engineering bay. She followed and watched as he squatted beside the open stardrive. He studied it a moment, then released a low whistle. "The primary driver coil is cracked right down the middle. The whole unit will have to be overhauled. This ship isn't going anywhere."
He rose and sneezed again. "By the fires of the Abyss, your polluted air is going to suffocate me. We'll finish this on my ship. Come on, get moving." Picking up Nessa's bag of supplies, he swung behind her, prodding her toward the airlock. Well aware of the weapon still trained on her, she tried to move as fast as she could.
But her leg, stiff from her first crouching in front of the stardrive, then standing too long, refused to cooperate. It gave out, and she pitched forward. The man snaked an arm around her and yanked her up before she hit the floor.
"What's wrong?" he demanded.
His arm pressed upward against her breasts like a steel band. Nessa balanced on her good leg and tried to pry his arm away. He didn't budge.
"Nothing's wrong," she gasped, still tugging. "I tripped."
He released her and she almost stumbled again. "Try to be less clumsy. Let's go."
Her leg held the weight this time, although she couldn't control her limp. He didn't comment, but then, he was too busy sneezing—three times—before they got through the airlock into his ship.
He closed the hatch and lowered her supplies to the floor. His relentless gaze settled on her again. "What's wrong with your leg?"
Nessa didn't discuss her injury with anyone, not even Jarek. "Nothing. I'm just stiff from standing so long."
He sneezed and shook his head angrily. "That's what I get for stopping," he muttered, taking her arm. "Over here. No one enters my ship without going through decontamination first."
"What's that?" she asked warily, digging in her heels.
He gave an impatient jerk, pulling her toward a panel. "Just some sterilizing rays that remove germs and dirt." He stopped in front of the panel, pointing to her tunic. "Take that filthy rag off. I'll clean it in the conclave. If that doesn't do the job, it's refuse."
She clutched her tunic. She had never bared her body to anyone. "I will not. You can't destroy this. I have nothing else to wear."
He started to speak, then sneezed again twice. She noticed his eyes beginning to water. "By the gods!" he snarled. "You try my patience, lady. And you brought that polluted air in here with you. Either that, or something on you is irritating my allergies." He jerked up her bag of supplies and began rifling through it.
Allergies? This incredible specimen of a warrior had allergies? Nessa found his behavior bewildering. And her people thought she was crazy. Tossing the supplies down, he spun her toward him. "Let me see the other bag."
Turi was in that bag. "No." She fought to hang on to the knapsack, but he wrested it from her grasp. He raised the flap and Turi popped out, hissing angrily.
"A lanrax! You brought a frigging lanrax on my ship. I knew you were trouble the minute I saw your wretched excuse of a space vehicle." He hauled Turi from the sack by the scruff of his neck.
"That's the last time I stop to help anyone!" he roared. "By the gods, a pilgrim with a lanrax. It's not staying here." He strode down the corridor, sneezing repeatedly. Turi writhed and snarled, to no avail.
"What are you doing?" Alarmed, Nessa limped behind him, cursing her leg for slowing her down.
Halting, he opened a window airlock and stuffed Turi in. "I'm allergic to lanraxes—very allergic. Any lanrax crossing my path regrets it. I'm jettisoning this creature out of here."
"No!" Frantic, she lunged forward and grabbed his arm before he could push the eject pad. "You can't jettison him into space. He'll die!"
A diabolical grin spread across the man's face. "Exactly."
Hysteria flooded her. Losing all restraint, she threw herself against him, screaming. "No! You can't do this. You don't understand…he's all I have. Please don't do this. Please…don't…. He's all I have!"
Sudden streaks of light flashed behind her eyes and she felt the beginning spasms rock her body. No! Not now…
It was her last conscious thought.
* * * *
"It's about time you came around." The gruff voice penetrated the edge of Nessa's consciousness, but she didn't respond. Although necessity had trained her to sleep lightly and awaken instantly, the seizures left her sluggish and disoriented. And for some reason she couldn't quite grasp, she didn't want to wake up.
A faint hum vibrated over her forehead. "Come now, pilgrim, I know you can hear me. Open your eyes."
She knew the commanding, arrogant voice from somewhere… No, she didn't want to remember that voice. She shook her head.
"Still trying my patience. How about this: Either open your eyes or get a stimulant
injection."
Her eyes flew open. Steel-gray eyes, set in a cold face etched with disapproval, stared back. Him. His black-clad bulk filled her field of vision, making avoidance impossible. Memory returned, every excruciating detail of the moments before the darkness.
Turi! Grief slashed like a sharp blade through her body. She arched from the agony. He had jettisoned Turi. She clenched her eyes shut against the pain. Tension curled through her and light sparked behind her lids.
"Oh, no, you don't." A sharp twinge pierced her neck and the tightness flowed out of her muscles immediately. Limp, she sagged to the surface beneath her. But although her body was relaxed, her thoughts flowed clearly. The seizure. He must have stopped it.
Amazed, she opened her eyes again. He watched her, a frown on his face. His attention shifted to the medical monitor he was scanning over her chest—over the metallic blanket covering her bare chest. Her tunic was gone. As she struggled to absorb this information, he set the monitor aside.
"What just upset you so badly you almost sent yourself into another episode? I assume it's not my face, since you didn't react this way when you first saw me."
The painful memory rushed back, forming a burning knot in her chest. Grasping the blanket in her fists, she glared at the man responsible for Turi's demise. She had ceased hurling words long ago, instead internalizing her hurt and pain, so she held her silence.
His golden brows shot up as he looked at the knotted cover. "There you go again." His warm hand slid over her cold fist. "Don't tell me all this stress is over a worthless lanrax."
Her stricken expression must have been answer enough. He shook his head in disgust. Moving back, he motioned toward the opposite wall. "That particular lanrax?"
Her head whirled to the side. There in a plexishield case, Turi stared back at her. Alive. He was plastered against the side, his mouth opening and closing in indignant protest. The case must be soundproof, since she couldn't hear his chattering.
Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) Page 2