Nessa stared at the incriminating words, mounting tension tightening her chest. She tried to recall if Saron had an Antek post on it. With her limited knowledge, she didn't even know if Saron was anywhere near Star Base Intrepid. She touched the screen to return to the directory and chose the option for specific plotting coordinates. She scrolled through the list: asteroids, moons, planets, then finally, star bases. More scrolling through the names of bases: Alpha, Borean, Caldmar…Galenta…Intrepid—
"What in the blazing hells do you think you're doing?" Two hands clamped around her upper arms, jerking her back and spinning her around. McKnight stared down at her, rage etched on his face.
Nessa gaped at him, her heart pounding so fiercely, she thought it might burst through her chest.
His lips pressed into a thin line and he shook her. "I asked you a question. What are you doing?"
His cold, controlled voice alarmed her more than if he had shouted. "N-nothing," she stammered, grasping his arms to steady herself against the waves of adrenaline slamming through her.
His eyes narrowed to silver slits. He shook her again. "Liar." He swung his head toward the screen and scanned it. "Star Base Intrepid. Position coordinates." He returned his damning glare to her, his brows almost meeting above his eyes.
"What were you going to do with that information? Alter this ship's course? A futile attempt, I assure you. You'd never be able to access beyond read-only data."
"I wasn't trying to do that. I—I wanted to…I—" Nessa hesitated, realizing the futility of an explanation.
"Don't stop now. Tell me. Just what were you doing, sneaking into my computer system in the middle of sleep shift?"
She ignored the tremors rippling through her limbs. "We're not headed for Intrepid. Twice you've given me your word you'll take me there."
"I told you I'd get you there in due time," he shouted, all restraint gone. "By the fires! You refuse to accept the fact that my word is good. I warned you what would happen if you gave me any trouble."
Her tremors increased with the force of his anger. The brig. He'd promised the brig if she crossed him. "I only wanted to know where we were headed. I must reach San—I mean Zirak—soon." Spasms in her limbs halted her. He said something, but the roar in her ears blocked his words.
A second later, she was sitting on the floor, McKnight pushing her head down between her legs. "Breathe!" she heard him yell above the internal din. "Take deep, slow breaths. Breathe, damn it!"
She tried, but she couldn't drag any air into her constricted lungs. Gasping, she clawed at the gray mist closing around her, flailing her arms against a hard, immobile object. Then total darkness surrounded her.
* * * *
She was lying on the floor. Cold…and hard. Even her straw-stuffed mattress on Liron was more comfortable than this. But she'd left Liron…Groggy, Nessa tried to sit up, but a strong hand against her chest forced her back down. "Don't get up yet. Lie still a few minutes."
She squinted at the form above her. It blurred, then came into focus. McKnight. She wondered if the scowl on his face ever went away. In sleep maybe, except she was beginning to doubt the man ever slept. That thought required too much energy to contemplate. She sank back, taking a deep breath. In a moment, her mind cleared enough for her to realize she must have had another seizure. By the Spirit, they were coming more frequently now.
"How are you feeling?" McKnight knelt beside her, a medical monitor in his hand. A medicine hypochamber lay on the floor next to him. She stared at it dumbly. "Nessa, I asked how you're feeling."
She looked at him. His scowl conveyed worry, she realized with sudden insight. Concern—about her. Amazed, she searched his face, finding confirmation of her startling discovery in the soft gray of his eyes. No, she had to be wrong. Only Jarek cared what happened to her.
"I'm okay." She struggled onto her elbows. He set the monitor down and slipped an arm beneath her shoulders. He eased her to a sitting position, keeping his arm firmly around her.
Nessa had gone for ten seasons without anyone touching her. Yet now McKnight had crossed that unspoken barrier by placing his arm around her. She found his touch disconcerting. But at the same time, she savored the strength his support gave her trembling body. She'd always recovered from her seizures alone, pulling herself up and back on her feet with painstaking slowness.
"How does that feel sitting up? Are you dizzy?" He retrieved the scanner and skimmed it over her.
"I'm fine." She stared past him up at the computer, thinking about the retribution for her action. He would put her in the brig now. Would he let her have Turi with her? Surely he wouldn't leave Turi alone to starve. She'd have to convince him to spare her pet.
Resolute, she started to push to her feet. Her shaky legs refused to cooperate. She swayed and almost fell.
"I told you to wait. Little fool!" McKnight rose with her, sweeping her into his arms before she could gain her footing.
She couldn't remember ever being held like this. The hardness of his chest amazed her, as did the intense warmth he radiated. She tried to look up at him, but he had her closely gathered against him, and she could see no more than the underside of his stubborn chin, the thickness of his muscular neck.
He strode down the corridor. Nessa tensed, preparing to be tossed into the cubicle next to Nathan Long. "I must keep Turi with me. Please."
"I certainly don't want that creature." His voice rumbled above her as he stopped at her cabin. Surprise swept through her when he carried her inside and lowered her onto her bunk.
She grabbed the mat, trying to anchor her whirling thoughts. "You brought me to my cabin."
He stepped back, his brows arched questioningly. "Would you prefer my cabin?"
His question confused her even more. Why would he suggest his cabin? "The brig," she blurted. "I thought—" She froze. What was she thinking?
Returning anger flared in his eyes. "Ah yes, the brig. That is where you belong, after blatantly violating orders." He leaned over the mat, placing a hand on either side of her shoulders. "That's where you should be. Rotting in the brig for disobeying the ship's captain."
Nessa felt crowded, unnerved by his massive presence. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"I disagree. I told you to stay away from the computer, and you ignored me. It would simplify my life considerably to put you in the brig and leave you there. But I've decided to give you one more chance. I will have your word—again—that you'll observe the rules of this ship. And you will not touch the computer without my consent. Understood?"
She nodded slowly, sensing her seizure had somehow tempered his decision. "Understood, Captain."
"Good." He rose and strode to the panel in two steps.
"Captain McKnight." She scrambled off the bunk, spurred by a strange need to express her gratitude. He turned as she stumbled toward him. His hand shot out, grabbing her elbow and steadying her. The scowl returned to his face.
"Don't you have the good sense to stay put until the effects of the seizure and medicine wear off?"
Nessa started to deny any after-effects, but he cut her off with an angry wave of his hand. "I know, I know. There's nothing wrong with you. You just like to rest in the middle of the corridor."
His vehemence surprised her. Except for Jarek, no one had shown any concern for her welfare. Not her own people, her father, or even the woman who had given birth to her. But this man had. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his arm. He tensed. Her hand looked small against the swell of his forearm. She raised her gaze to unfathomable gray eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered, her throat strangely tight. She wasn't sure exactly what she was thanking him for—rescuing her from a stranded ship, treating her seizures, sparing Turi, providing food, or not imprisoning her. She only knew he'd done more for her in one day than family and friends had done in a lifetime. "Thank you, Captain McKnight."
A myriad of emotions swept through his eyes. "Chase," he growled after what seemed an interminable silenc
e.
"What?"
"My first name is Chase. I don't expect formality during off-duty hours. When we're in the cockpit, during work shifts, I'm Captain McKnight to you. But at meals and off duty, call me Chase."
His husky voice wrapped around her like a warm cloak. She took a step closer, inexplicably drawn to him. "All, right…Chase."
He inhaled sharply, his arm stiffening again beneath her hand. She felt his tension increasing, although she couldn't imagine what she'd done to anger him now. But his eyes weren't cold as he stared down at her. They were molten, like melted silver.
He released her elbow, his hand sliding up her arm and over her shoulder. The breath froze in her lungs as he captured an unruly lock of hair near her chin and rubbed it between his fingers. Strange sensations skittered through her body.
He stopped abruptly, clenching his hand into a fist by his side. She stepped back, her heart palpitating an uncomfortable rhythm. All at once, the small cabin seemed much too crowded, much too warm.
She backed into the bunk. Her knees collapsed, and she sank down. Chase spun toward the entry. Her muddled senses cleared as he opened the panel, jarred to alert status by the memory of what she'd seen on the computer.
"Captain McKni—Chase, wait."
He pivoted, his expression fierce. "What?"
She knotted her hands in her lap. "Why did the computer say we're headed for Saron?"
His eyes glinted coldly. "Because we are."
The distance between them slammed back into place. Nothing had been resolved. Just the exchange of more meaningless words. "But what about Intrepid? You said—"
"I said you would reach Intrepid in due time," he interrupted. "That means by my time schedule—when I decide. No one questions my decisions on this ship." His frigid expression warned her against challenging him.
Nessa heeded the warning. At least for now.
* * * *
Morning shift came and went, and still Nessa didn't emerge from her cabin. He preferred it that way, Chase told himself. The troublesome waif would only be underfoot. After the way his unruly body had responded to her mere touch last night, the best solution would be for her to stay in her cabin the remainder of the trip.
His physical reaction to Nessa bothered him. He could probably attribute it to the fact he'd been a long time without a woman. But he shouldn't be reacting to an obvious innocent like Nessa, especially since she was vulnerable right now. He needed to distance himself from her and her problems.
Yet he kept remembering how pale she'd been after that blasted seizure, how shaky and fragile. Guilt assailed him. He possessed a fair amount of knowledge about her particular seizure disorder; enough to know he shouldn't have shaken her and yelled at her when he caught her using the computer. He knew enough to formulate a compound that would reduce the frequency of occurrences.
He shook that thought away before it reached completion. By the Spirit, he would never do research in a medical laboratory again.
But Nessa couldn't afford to suffer many more episodes. She was already wound tighter than a black hole, and much too thin. She needed to eat more. He hadn't returned her supplies. He had more than enough food to share, and she would need her own on the trip from Intrepid to Zirak. The bread and cheese she'd sneaked from her plate when she thought he wasn't looking wouldn't last long, especially if she shared it with that worthless lanrax.
Chase clicked on Nessa's cabin monitor, shunning the visual screen. Everyone deserved privacy in their own quarters, with the exception of criminals. He heard her moving around the room and talking to the creature, so he knew she was all right. He should leave her alone, but concern for her welfare gnawed at him.
He punched the com pad. "Nessa. Can you hear me?"
First a muffled sound, then, "Yes."
He waited for her to speak further, but got only silence. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." More silence.
He'd never have to worry about her talking too much, Chase thought wryly. She was the quietest female he'd ever encountered. "Good. Then you can join me for the mid meal in five minutes."
"I'd prefer to stay in my cabin. If you’ll give me my supplies, I'll eat from them."
Chase slapped his hand on the console and spun his seat around. He'd fought this battle once. He didn't intend to fight it the entire trip. Striding to her cabin panel, he sounded the tone once, then twice. No answer. He pounded on the panel. "Nessa, I'm coming in."
He opened the panel and entered. She stood in the center of the room. Her eyes widened with surprise, but she said nothing as he halted inside. "Why didn't you answer the tone?"
Confusion replaced surprise in her eyes. "I didn't know what that sound was. What's the tone for?" she asked, taking a step back.
"You ring the tone when you want to enter someone's cabin. Then you wait until they tell you to come in."
"Oh." She stared past him at the panel, as if she could see how the mechanism worked. He looked her over, noting her paleness. "What have you been doing in here all morning?"
"Not much." Her gaze slid to the plexishield case, where the creature held a piece of bread in a hind paw. It stopped eating long enough to hiss at Chase then took another bite, glaring at him malevolently.
Chase looked around the cabin, realizing for the first time how bare the room was. The shelves were empty—no holographic games or puzzles. By design, the room did not have a computer monitor, so there were no reading disks. Nessa had been in here for hours, with nothing to do, and without a single complaint. But then, she was not one to complain. He glanced back at her, noticing the wariness in her eyes.
She was afraid of him. After last night, who could blame her? But he preferred it that way, he reminded himself. He didn't know anything about his unwelcome guest. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, even for a minute. Still, he couldn't expect her to stay in this stark atmosphere for five more days.
Sighing in resignation, he gestured toward the panel. "Come on. Let's get you something to eat."
"But my supplies—"
"Either you eat with me, or you don't eat at all," he interrupted firmly. "And if you'll cooperate, I'll do something for you." He stepped behind her, urging her toward the panel.
"What?" She stumbled slightly, then regained her balance. He noticed her limp appeared more pronounced today.
"I've decided to let you use the computer. But—" Chase held up his hand as she gasped and whirled around, pleased amazement shining on her face. "But only for reading and games, to keep you occupied for the rest of the trip. Nothing else."
"Oh," she breathed, her eyes glowing with excitement. "Will I be able to link to Information Access Retrieval files?"
Her childlike joy cemented his decision. "I don't mind if you want to delve into IAR. Maybe you could do research for me."
"I would! Oh, I would. Can I use the computer right now?"
"Meal first." He grasped her shoulders, turning her and moving them through the panel.
A few minutes later, watching her eager expression as she nibbled at her meal, more guilt nagged him. He had the knowledge to make her life easier. She didn't need to suffer seizures. Within a very short time, he could research her disorder and compound the appropriate preventive.
Panic raced through him. Spirit, anything but the lab. Until now, he'd successfully avoided it, and for the most part, the memories it dredged up. Until Nessa had boarded his ship. Until her seizures had forced him into the lab, once again facing his failures.
Stop it! he told himself sharply. Drawing a deep breath, he reeled in his emotions. Three seasons stretched between him and the demons, three empty seasons…he should be able to control his reactions by now.
Formulating a medication didn't require any great skill. He could do it easily. Besides, if he halted Nessa's seizures, then he wouldn't have to enter the lab again.
He would do it, immediately after the meal. Decided, he sat back in his chair. Oblivious to his inner turmoil or his cove
rt observation, Nessa slipped the rest of her bread into her pocket.
Shaking his head, Chase repressed a smile. Odd, but he suddenly felt more lighthearted than he had in three seasons.
CHAPTER FIVE
Chase strapped a stunner and a gun onto his utility belt. He appeared oblivious to Nessa's presence as he reached into the weapon vault for a pair of gloves and a visored helmet. Pulling those on, he closed the vault and strode toward the hatch. His actions confirmed her suspicion that he'd traveled to Saron to pursue a criminal.
Fingering the vial of capsules in her pocket, she followed him to the hatch. He'd offered them one ship cycle ago, claiming they would help prevent her seizures. While she knew better than to cling to false hopes, she had accepted the vial. She didn't truly believe anything could eradicate her affliction, yet she hadn't been able to resist taking a capsule this morning.
Right now, however, her attention focused on the fact they'd just landed on Saron, with Chase preparing to leave the ship. Panic edged her thoughts, raising her apprehension at this delay in reaching Santerra.
She halted beside Chase as he snapped open the portal cover. "Captain McKnight."
"Yes?" His voice was flat and he appeared distant, withdrawn.
Nessa recognized that withdrawal. She had seen it many times before, in Shielders preparing to go into battle against the Controllers or the Anteks. A shadower stalking a wanted criminal would need the same emotional distance. This was no game McKnight engaged in. The hunt could readily become a matter of life—or death.
"How long will you be gone?"
He looked at her then, his eyes cold and expressionless. "As long as it takes."
Her breath froze in her chest. How could she possibly have allowed her perception of this man to soften? Shadower! He was a shadower. She must remember that, in spite of his surprising compassion and assistance. The Controller mind indoctrination he had undergone would dictate her swift demise if he ever discovered her true birthright.
Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) Page 5