He kissed her thoroughly, unable to resist sweeping his hand up her rib cage, brushing his fingers against the side of one firm breast. It swelled at his touch. One of his own body parts expanded in response.
He slid his hand around, cupping the breast and teasing the nipple. Nessa started with a small cry, but he wrapped his other hand around her head and recaptured her mouth. With a throaty little sound, she sank against him and he moved his attention to the other breast.
The blood pooling in his lower extremities left him lightheaded, devoid of common sense. What would she do if he opened her tunic and pressed his mouth to one of those tender mounds? Or—
The docking tone blared through his consciousness, alerting him to the fact that Sabin's ship had just aligned with his. Fortunately, it stopped him from doing other aligning he would very much regret later.
"What is that?" Nessa pulled back, alarmed and flushed.
Chase took the opportunity to lift her off his lap as he stood. "That's my associate, Sabin Travers. He's docking to pick up Long and take him to Alta."
It was a good thing a few more minutes would pass before the docking procedure completed. That would allow his overheated body time to return to normal. He glanced at Nessa. Gingerly, she touched her swollen lips and smoothed her tunic. The outline of puckered nipples assured him she had been just as affected as he had.
Even so, he couldn't allow this to happen again. It would be unconscionable to take advantage of her inexperience. Not only that, but he didn't want or need involvement with anyone. All his energies were focused on one thing, and one thing alone: revenge.
Nessa drew a deep breath. "Your associate?"
"Sabin and I frequently work together to track down criminals."
"Oh." She turned away, her body stiff.
He thought he understood the sudden tension radiating from her. Many people despised shadowers, or felt immensely uncomfortable around them. Chase shrugged. He didn't care what anyone thought. Emotions had no place in hunting blatant murderers. He headed to the airlock to greet Sabin.
* * * *
Another Shielder!
Awareness of a Shielder presence shot though Nessa like a lightning bolt. She whirled to see a man stepping into the cockpit, followed by Chase. His eyes, darker than a moonless night, locked on her. His body stiffened with the innate recognition all Shielders shared.
He stared at her, his inscrutable gaze skimming her. Panic slammed through her. She grabbed the control panel for support. Oh, Spirit! This man could undo everything in a single instant, simply by revealing her true identity. Once Chase knew she was a Shielder, he'd turn her over to the Controllers for the standard reward of five hundred miterons offered on every Shielder.
She battled for breath, trying to clear her reeling mind. Chase's associate, a fellow shadower, was a Shielder. The implications were horrifying. She gripped the console until her knuckles were colorless. He must be one of a number of Shielder traitors who found gold more alluring than the preservation of their own people. Devil's spawn who routinely hunted and turned in their own kind.
She had to escape. She looked wildly around the cockpit, although she knew there was only one exit. She reached toward her boot for her dagger.
"Nessa, are you all right?" Coming to her side, Chase pulled her up and eased her rigid body into a seat. "You look like you're about to have a seizure."
Gasping, Nessa shot him a helpless look.
"Well, what have we got here?" the devil's spawn inquired, swaggering forward.
She stared up at the man towering over her. Half a head shorter than Chase, leaner and sleeker, he had the build of a feline predator. His shoulder-length ebony hair was drawn behind his neck and tied with a cord. Like Chase, he dressed in solid black, from his flightsuit to a low-slung utility holster displaying two guns, to his boots.
She tried to bolt out of the seat, but Chase pushed her back. "Stay there until you're not so shaky."
"What's this about seizures? Who is this woman?" the traitor persisted. He eyed her insultingly. "Or should I say girl?"
Chase straightened, watching Nessa with concern. "She's a pilgrim on her way to the shrine of Shara on Zirak. Her ship broke down in the tenth sector. I couldn't repair it, so I'm giving her a ride to Intrepid."
"Really? A pilgrim, you say? How interesting." His eyes mocking, the traitor offered her his hand. "What is your name, pilgrim?"
She shrank back, frantically praying for a way out of this horrifying predicament.
Chase gestured toward his associate. "Nessa, this is Sabin Travers. He won't hurt you. You can answer him."
"Yes, Nessa, I'm most anxious to find out all about you."
She ignored the demon, focusing on Chase. "I'm tired. I want to go to my cabin."
He studied her, a frown on his face. "Perhaps a rest would be good. You're very pale." He slid his hand beneath her elbow. "You're trembling."
"Poor pilgrim," Sabin goaded. "I believe she's afraid of me."
Nessa scrambled to her feet, breaking free from Chase's hand and sidling around the two men. Refusing to look at either of them, she ran from the cockpit. Once in her cabin, she paced rapidly, rubbing her upper arms.
Certainly, Chase's associate would be telling him about her masquerade, would be revealing her true identity at this very moment. She had her dagger, but it offered little protection against two seasoned warriors, shadowers at that.
Watching her agitated movements around the chamber, Turi chattered anxiously. Heedless of Chase's disapproval, Nessa flung off the lid and grabbed the furry body against her. "What are we going to do?"
Escape appeared the obvious answer. And if that failed—if she faced incarceration and execution in a Controller prison, or a hideous death from Orana—then suicide. Nessa didn't know if she had the strength or the courage for that option. Escape would be the better choice.
Sabin Travers' ship was docked with theirs. If she could slip though the airlock and override his computer system, she might be able to get away.
But rational thought began returning and she knew that option wouldn't be feasible. Sabin's computer system might be sophisticated, requiring hours to locate the necessary codes to override the system. She sagged down on the bunk in despair. Turi curled his front legs around her neck.
Her entry panel slid open, and Sabin Travers stepped inside.
Nessa came to full alert, shoving Turi behind her and retrieving her dagger from her boot as she rose. Sabin leaned nonchalantly against the entry frame, his arms crossed over his chest.
"You really don't expect me to be intimidated by that pitiful weapon, do you, pilgrim?"
Her heart seemed lodged in her throat, the fierce pounding hindering clear thinking. To make matters worse, Turi leaped to her shoulder, painfully digging in his claws and hissing at the interloper.
The devil's spawn raised an ebony eyebrow. "What's this? A new secret weapon, a killer lanrax? I'm shaking in my boots."
Drawing a deep breath, Nessa backed slowly to the plexishield case and forcefully pried a protesting Turi from her shoulder. She stuffed him in the case and slammed on the lid, all the while keeping Sabin in her sights. Gripping her dagger, she faced her antagonist. She drew another breath, concentrating on her early training as a junior combatant, before she'd become cursed.
"I'll fight you to the death, traitor," she hissed.
"Now I'm really frightened," he taunted. "Of a scrawny, one-legged pilgrim I could crush with one hand."
He lunged forward, as rapid as a striking viper. He knocked the dagger from her hand, sending it spinning beyond reach. Grabbing her, he pressed her against the wall, holding her hands by her side and stilling her flailing legs with his body.
"You have one leg that's useless and, as I understand it, you suffer from seizures. I find that very interesting. Why in the blazing hells are you still alive?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Nessa said, her pride stinging along with her wrist.
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"Oh, I'm sure you do, little fake. You would have been put out of your misery when you became a cripple in almost every Shielder colony in the quadrant. Tell me why you were spared."
The shame and humiliation of the past ten seasons burned inside her, spurring her to struggle. "Let me go."
He ignored her demand. "Tell me why you're involved in this false masquerade and where you're really headed."
"Maybe I just want to travel through the quadrant without being hunted," she spat. "Especially by traitors like you."
His eyes, so black she couldn't distinguish the pupils, gleamed wickedly. "Things are not always what they seem, are they, pilgrim? But one fact is certain. You're hiding something. And you've involved my partner in your scheme."
Nessa found his concern for Chase very unlikely. She heartily doubted he cared for anything beyond his own material gain. "I want nothing from your partner other than a ride to the nearest star base."
"Somehow I find that hard to believe." He pressed her harder against the wall. "However, since Chase can take care of himself, I'll leave him to deal with you. But mark me well. I owe Chase a great debt, one I can probably never repay. I'll be in contact with him every ship cycle, and I will make it my business to know your every move. If you do anything—anything—to harm my partner, you'll pay dearly."
He released her so suddenly, she almost stumbled forward. Catching her balance, she moved away from him. "Are you going to tell him the truth about me?"
He shrugged, straightening his flightsuit. "Maybe I will and maybe I won't. That depends entirely on you, Nessa—if that's your real name. You'd better choose your actions carefully." He strolled to the panel and turned with an arrogant smile. "See you at the mid meal."
Nessa stared at the panel after he'd gone, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn't trust the traitor, or believe he'd keep his word. Someone who would turn their own people in for gold had no honor. Chase would know the truth in a matter of time. But for now, she had no choice but to play along.
Even if the danger she faced had just increased tenfold.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nessa stood inside her cabin, watching Chase and Sabin through the open panel. They had just finished transporting Nathan Long to Sabin's ship. The prisoner had been forcibly dragged away, yelling a string of foul curses and threats. She was relieved to be free of his obnoxious presence.
She was just as anxious to be free of Sabin, of his knowing leers and threatening posturing. Hopefully, he would depart immediately, and they could continue on to Star Base Intrepid.
That hope was dispelled a moment later when Sabin said to Chase, "I’m going down on Calt with you, McKnight. Dansan always has guards around and I don't want you walking into a possible trap alone. Not only that, but my better half is manning the mercantile right now." He frowned as he said that last sentence, obviously displeased about something.
“Is she?” Chase grinned. “You still trying to order her around? You should know better by now.”
“I keep hoping for a miracle,” Sabin muttered.
“Good luck with that.” Chase said. “I'm happy to have your assistance down there. Just remember, Dansan is mine for the taking."
Sabin slapped him on the back. "Copy that. Then I'll take my ship and meet you planetside. Rendezvous at Giza's, 1100 hours?"
“I’ll be there then,” Chase said.
Sabin disappeared through the airlock, leaving Nessa stunned. She'd had no clue they'd altered course, much less traveled anywhere near a planet. With Sabin on the ship, she'd remained in her cabin, venturing out only when Chase insisted she join them for the mid meal.
She waited to be sure the airlock light went off before entering the corridor to look for Chase. She hurried toward the cockpit, almost colliding with him as he strode out. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.
"There you are. I was just coming for you. Get into the cockpit and strap in."
His words confirmed what she had just heard. She stepped back from his hand. "Where are we going?"
"To Calt. We're right outside its orbital field."
A wave of despair washed over her. Chase had detoured the ship again—with time running out. She curled her hands into fists by her side. "You gave me your word, Captain. I have to reach Zirak soon, or miss the eclipse."
His eyes, cold and distant, bored into hers. "I don't have time for dramatics. This ship operates on my schedule, not on the whims of a passenger. Get in the cockpit—now."
By the Spirit, what could she do? Her mind whirling like a Sharan dervish, she followed Chase into the cockpit. Once strapped securely in her seat, she watched mutely as he deftly guided the ship into orbit and began the descent to Calt.
While he went on the planet, she would check the program decoding the PWL file. If she could access the security codes, she might have more options. If not…a new possibility suddenly occurred to her.
"Captain McKnight."
He frowned, his concentration wholly focused on the controls. "Quiet. We'll talk when we're planetside."
Nessa waited impatiently, going over the newest alternative in her mind. It seemed an eternity before Chase landed the ship.
He eased back in his seat. "Well, what is it?"
"Is there a transport station on Calt? If there is, I can catch a transport now."
He shook his head. "I don't think you understand what Calt is, Nessa. It's the bowels of the quadrant, a haven for criminals of the worst sort. Here they obtain new identities, ships and supplies, anything gold can purchase."
Surely the Controllers would be aware of such a place, Nessa thought. "Then why don't the Anteks patrol Calt and arrest all the criminals?"
Chase smiled bitterly. "The Anteks are just as susceptible to gold as other weak-minded beings. They can be persuaded to look the other way. Calt has no transport station. No decent being would want to visit this hellhole. Those that do, arrive secretly, under the cover of darkness."
Her brief hope fled, and she pushed back the nagging fear. She still had over two weeks, she reminded herself. She undid her safety harness and watched Chase prepare to leave the ship. Once again, he strapped on an array of weapons, including a carbine rifle that went into a special holder slung over his shoulder.
Ready to disembark, he turned to her. As he had done at Saron, he had withdrawn behind an invisible barrier, detaching himself with a frightening intensity. This was not Chase she faced, but a fierce, remote warrior, beyond reach.
A shadower, with no mercy.
A violent shiver passed through her, but he didn't seem to notice. "Don't respond to any hails or open the hatch for any reason," he instructed tersely. "Be ready to strap in for takeoff the minute I return. Understand?"
"Yes."
He stopped at the hatch and pulled the portal cover open to scan the area. Nessa got a glimpse of the sun rising over an arid expanse of sand littered with spaceships, before he closed the portal. "Remember my orders." Opening the hatch, he slipped away like a wraith into the semidarkness.
She waited a few minutes to be certain he had left, then returned to the computer. She accessed root command and located her hidden program. It hadn’t succeeded in decoding the PWL file. Battling abject frustration, she studied the system's response to her program. That gave her enough information to alter her commands and try a new path. She reworded the program and exited.
She didn't doubt for a moment she might need the information in the file. If Chase proved to be untrustworthy and refused to take her to Star Base Intrepid, then she'd have to resort to more drastic options. Unfortunately, decoding the PWL file could take days. Even if she managed to confiscate some of Chase's weapons and overtake him, without the security codes, she couldn't operate his ship. Sabin added a new threat, as he might reveal her Shielder identity at any time.
In view of Sabin's presence and the uncertainty of what Chase might do next, she needed to find transport now. She thought of the bag of coins in her p
ocket. Gold could buy anything, so Chase had said. Surely it could buy her transport, even on Calt.
She went to her cabin and slipped Turi into his pack. She stuffed her hoarded cheese and bread into her bag of supplies. Returning to the hatch, she opened it and stepped outside before she could change her mind.
A blast of sweltering air slammed into her. The blazing sun peeking over the horizon blinded her momentarily, forcing her to squint until her eyes became used to the glare. Amazed, she stared at the varied array of ships that stretched as far as the eye could see. Obviously the outcasts of the universe found Calt a popular spot. Surely the owner of one of these ships could be persuaded to provide a ride to Santerra.
Turning slowly, Nessa saw the outline of buildings in the distance. Slinging her pack onto her back, she began the trek to the settlement. The oppressive heat surrounded her, and rivulets of sweat slid over her skin. The walk to the settlement seemed to take forever, and her leg throbbed by the time she reached the outbuildings.
She looked around Calt, finding it bare and unimpressive. Debris littered the hard-packed sand. Stark, weathered structures sprawled haphazardly around. Although they had no windows, they had numerous entry panels on each side. Plenty of escape routes, she thought, something she could well understand.
She didn't know how to go about finding transport. She decided to check each building to find a gathering or eating place, where she could blend with the crowd and hopefully find a willing pilot with a ship. But not a single being or living creature of any sort lurked in sight. Nothing stirred except small eddies of sand lifted by the arid wind.
The first two buildings Nessa came to appeared to be closed up. She couldn't read the strange language on the signs, so she had no idea what they were. Glancing down the deserted thoroughfare, she felt doubts creeping in. Where were the owners of all those ships back on the plain? And where were Chase and Sabin?
Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) Page 7