Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series)

by Catherine Spangler

  Nessa barely heard him. She stared toward the street, repressing a shiver. An Antek. She'd seen pictures and heard the gory tales, but seeing the real thing only brought the terrifying reality home. Anteks were barbaric brutes who carried out Controller orders efficiently and without mercy.

  "Dansan's a Controller?" she blurted out, drawing the obvious conclusion.

  "No. Dansan is far worse than any Controller." Chase slid forward and glanced around the corner again.

  Her thoughts whirling, she crept along behind him. "But you said Brutus works for Dansan."

  "Brutus is a renegade Antek. Dansan employs an entire troop of them." Chase tensed. "He just went inside Giza's. Damn. It's too early. Something's wrong. I hope to Spirit Sabin didn't go straight there." He reached back and grasped Nessa's arm. "Come on. I don't have time to take you to the ship. You'll stay at Moriah's until Sabin or I come for you."

  Sensing his urgency, she didn't question the abrupt change of plan. She slipped out quietly and followed him to Moriah's, still trying to make sense of Anteks pledging allegiance to a non-Controller. To the best of her knowledge, all Anteks underwent Controller mind indoctrination, as did officials and leaders of all planets, and all agents—including shadowers. How could an Antek break free of the formidable Controller domination?

  Chase stopped in front of the mercantile. "Get inside." He motioned toward the building, then turned away.

  "Where are you going?" she called after him.

  "To find out if my partner just walked into a trap. Now go inside." He strode toward a building catercorner across the square, carrying the rifle in front of him.

  Nessa hadn't noticed the pyramid-shaped structure before. Since it had a huge "G" emblazoned on the sand-colored wall facing her, she assumed it must be Giza's.

  She started up the steps, her attention focused on Chase. Catlike, he moved onto the covered walkway edging the pyramid, and vanished around the side. She took another step, prepared to go inside, when a movement caught her eye, drawing her gaze back to Giza's.

  Two massive Anteks prowled from behind the pyramid and stomped the same direction Chase had gone, into the dimness of the covered pathway. Terror swept through her, trapping her breath. The impulse to flee burst over her, to escape as far as possible from the nightmarish Anteks.

  She looked around wildly. Where could she go? Moriah couldn't offer sanctuary against two Anteks. But these two didn't work for the Controllers, more rational reason interjected—or so Chase had said. They worked for Dansan, whoever that was. Nessa's thoughts lurched in another direction. Both Chase and Sabin might have just entered an ambush.

  Hideous scenarios flashed through her mind. Anteks torturing Chase, killing him. No! She couldn't lose him—not now. She tried to ignore the concern unfurling inside her, to convince herself she only cared because she needed Chase for transport to Intrepid. Yet, whatever the reasons, she knew she had to help him.

  She ran down the steps and across the expanse to Giza's, halting only after she was safely in the shadows at the base. She slid her knife from her boot and pressed against the wall, waiting for her labored breath to calm. Hearing voices to her right, she inched that direction.

  Reaching the corner, she glanced around and saw light from an open doorway about four meters away. The voices grew louder, although still indistinct, as she inched farther toward the entry. Just outside the panel, she crouched down.

  "Well, Brutus, what say you about our prize?" a deep, but distinctly female voice asked.

  "We pleased, Dan-san. Always to serve you."

  "Clever answer," the voice purred. "Here, have a reward."

  A gruntlike snort followed. Nessa glanced over her shoulder, finding the area behind her deserted. Slipping onto all fours, she crawled to the doorway and edged forward enough to see in.

  The overpowering reek of filthy, hairy bodies assaulted her, and she pushed back a surge of nausea. Breathing through her mouth, she surveyed the cavernous room, dimly lit by solar flares. Massive, thronelike chairs, ornately carved with bizarre designs, were scattered around like huts in a Shielder colony.

  Six Anteks ringed the room, their eyes intent on a woman slouched on one of the huge chairs that had been placed up on the counter running along the left wall. Nessa's attention fixed on the Anteks in morbid fascination. At this close range, she realized how huge they were, nearly seven feet tall, of massive girth. Their snouts dominated their broad faces, making them look more beastlike than humanoid. Small, dull eyes peered out from beneath protruding brows. Short bristles covered their skulls, almost obscuring flush ear openings. At their necks, the bristles gave way to hairy whorls, which she knew covered their entire bodies. They smelled rank. Grimacing, Nessa turned her attention to the woman seated on the counter.

  She had propped her booted feet on an acrylic crate. Snowy white hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Sharp, almost colorless eyes glinted in a pallid face devoid of any emotion. Reaching into a bucket beside her, she lifted a piece of bloody meat. "And you, Brutus. You caught the enemy. You get an extra reward." She tossed the meat to an Antek across the room, blood flinging all directions.

  He caught it midair and shoved it into a mouth full of sharp teeth. Another Antek lumbered toward the bucket, but stopped short when she whipped up an electrolyzer rod. "Uh, uh, Keret. You've already had yours."

  She must be Dansan. The Antek had called her by that name. Nessa studied the woman, unable to determine her age. Her body, sheathed in a snug silver flightsuit, appeared firm and muscled, but her face showed signs of age. "My, my, but we do have cause for celebration," Dansan cackled, gesturing to Nessa's far left.

  There was Sabin. He was slumped over in a chair, apparently unconscious. An electronic shackle bound his wrists together behind the chair, while another secured his ankles. Blood oozed from a cut over his eye and his flightsuit was torn.

  Nessa barely restrained her gasp of horror. Then she almost gasped again when she saw Chase crouched behind another chair on the opposite side of Sabin. He signaled furiously at her to get away and then crept behind Sabin. Deftly, he snapped a decoder on the shackle lock on his wrists, before slipping back behind the other chair.

  "What should we do with our prize, soldiers?" Dansan's smoky voice slithered across the room. "Cut him up and have him for our morning meal?"

  Snorts and hoots of approval met this comment. Horrified, Nessa watched the decoder, hoping it would quickly find the lock sequence, although she wasn't sure how Chase and Sabin could elude six Anteks and their leader. She thought she saw Sabin's fingers move slightly.

  "Before we enjoy some sport with Shadower Travers, we need a drink!" Dansan swung her feet from the crate and leaped up. "Thorne! Where are you? You have guests. We want a drink." She pounded the electrolyzer rod against the counter.

  "Thorne! Thorne! Thorne!" The Anteks took up the chant, stomping and pounding.

  A little man scurried through a panel behind the bar. "This is highly irregular," he sputtered in a shrill voice. "I'm not open for business until 1500 hours."

  Dansan's eyes narrowed to transparent slits. "Oh, really? Now isn't that just too bad. You see, Thorne, the Ants and I are having a special celebration, in honor of our friend over there. And you know how the Ants like to celebrate. Occurs to me, if you give them drinks to keep them occupied, they won't tear up your place. Seems fair enough, doesn't it?"

  Brutus lumbered up behind Thorne and grasped the little man's tunic, lifting him off his feet. "Fair, Thorne?" he grunted.

  Thorne's face paled considerably as his feet kicked uselessly at the air. "All right, all right!" he gurgled. "For you Dansan, I'm open for business."

  "I'm so glad you share our enthusiasm over the capture of Shadower Travers." Dansan nodded to Brutus.

  He dropped Thorne, who crashed to the floor, then scrambled shakily to his feet. "Drinks coming up." He hurried behind the bar.

  Dansan strutted along the counter, looking down on her henchmen
. “So, who wants to ‘play’ with Travers first? How about you, Keret? Wasn't it your brother he killed and turned in, for a measly 200 miterons?"

  Keret growled and spun toward Sabin. Dansan swung up the electrolyzer rod threateningly. "I haven't given the go ahead yet. How about you, Raik? Didn't he give you that scar on your leg?"

  "Drinks," Thorne announced shoving a tray on the counter. A loud clink followed his announcement, only it came from Sabin's direction. All heads turned that way. Sabin remained slumped over his legs. The shackle lay open on the tile. The decoder had obviously done its job.

  Dansan leaped to the floor. "What in the Abyss—"

  "Heads up, Travers," Chase whispered loudly, sliding a gun along the tile behind Sabin.

  Nessa started when Sabin's head shot up. He snatched the gun and leaped to his feet in one smooth motion. At a light-speed blur, he shot through the second shackle, right between his ankles and rolled toward the entry.

  "Get him!" Dansan screeched, and the Anteks scrambled. Chase toppled his chair over on two Anteks and rolled after Sabin. He and Sabin hurled themselves behind other chairs and opened fire, which the Anteks returned. Blasts exploded chunks of wood from the chairs. Dansan dived over the bar to relative safety, with Thorne right behind her.

  Nessa clutched her knife and scrambled to her feet, although she stayed clear of the doorway and pretty much out of view. Turi hissed in alarm, but she didn't have time to reassure him. Three Anteks were down, and Dansan had fled through the rear exit. Two other Anteks engaged Chase and Sabin in crossfire. The sight of Brutus sneaking up unnoticed behind Chase sent shock waves through her.

  "Chase!" she screamed. "Behind you!"

  But he couldn't hear her over the din of gunfire. Brutus raised his weapon at Chase's head. Nessa acted on instinct, calling upon skills she'd learned seasons ago. She hurled her knife, burying it in Brutus's back. He dropped the gun with a cry of rage and whirled her direction.

  He charged her like a wild animal. Her heart exploded in an adrenaline rush. She tried to sidestep the crazed Antek, her rubbery limbs uncooperative.

  Turi scrabbled from the pack, clawing her shoulder in the process. Brutus staggered, then regained his balance and hurtled toward her. She leaped back frantically, just as Turi let out shrill yelp and catapulted himself through the air.

  He landed on Brutus's face, biting and scratching.

  "No!" Nessa screamed, rushing forward. "Turi, no!"

  Bellowing, Brutus tore Turi off and hurled him across the room. He hit the wall hard and fell to the floor with a sickening thud. He twitched, then stilled.

  "Turi!" Nessa tried to go to him, but Brutus grabbed her. He wrenched her arm and she gasped from the pain. He raised his hand to strike her but froze, his eyes opening wide as a blast sounded behind him. A grunt escaped him and he slid to the floor, a gaping wound next to the protruding knife. Chase leaped over him and shoved Nessa toward the entry. Sabin followed.

  "Let's get out of here." Chase dragged her through the entry.

  "No! I can't leave Turi!" she cried, struggling against his hold. "I can't leave him!"

  "He's dead, Nessa. Come on."

  "You'd better hurry, if you're going to catch Dansan." Sabin took her other arm.

  She bucked and kicked, grief clouding reason. "He can't be dead! Not Turi. We can't leave him! We can't."

  "He couldn't have survived that impact. We have to leave—now." Chase didn't attempt to placate her further. Sweeping her up, he swung her over his shoulder and broke into a run.

  They ran to Moriah's, where Chase borrowed a two-seat land skimmer. A stupor pervaded Nessa's senses; she couldn’t even protest when Chase hauled her into the skimmer and jumped in beside her. As they sped to the ship, she sat frozen, her grief crystallizing around her heart. She didn't resist when Chase hustled her aboard and strapped her in for takeoff.

  Turi was gone. One of the few lights in her life snuffed out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dansan had evaded him again. Vanished like vapor, probably into one of the numerous wormholes connecting the quadrant's vast expanses. Staring at the blank sensor screen, Chase kicked a console and swore profusely. He'd almost had her! So close.

  Yet he'd failed again—the story of his life.

  His head and shoulder throbbed, but it was no less than he deserved. Each unsuccessful attempt to capture Dansan only served to remind him how he had failed his people, when they had desperately needed him.

  He touched his forehead and winced. His fingers came away sticky with blood. The cut wasn't serious, but needed tending if he didn't want it to get infected. His wound from Saron had not had time to heal completely; it probably needed checked as well. He set the ship coordinates for Star Base Intrepid, then headed to the lab to get some antiseptic.

  When he passed Nessa's closed panel, he slowed, cursing. Here he was, thinking only of himself. He hadn't even checked on her since she'd fled the cockpit after takeoff. Hadn't even stopped to consider that her daring action had saved his worthless hide, or bothered to thank her. He'd been too enmeshed in self-pity.

  He had turned into a selfish bastard.

  For all he knew, she might well have a dislocated shoulder, after the way Brutus had wrenched her arm. Plus she'd just lost her only companion, wretched creature that it was.

  He knew what it was like to lose everything.

  He sounded the panel tone. "Nessa, may I come in?"

  Silence. He pressed the tone again. "Are you all right?"

  "Go away."

  "I'm coming in." He opened the panel.

  Slumped on the floor, she leaned against the side of the bunk with her arms around her legs. Her eyes were dry but stark with pain as she stared toward the now empty plexishield case, where a half-eaten piece of bread lay on the bottom. She didn't acknowledge his presence.

  "Nessa." He sank down beside her, not sure how to take her stoic, detached demeanor. She might be in shock. "Are you okay?" He cupped his hand against her pale cheek, then slid his fingers down against the pulse in her neck.

  Steady enough, but she felt abnormally cool, and her ashen complexion alarmed him. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

  Fixated on the case, she shook her head almost imperceptibly. Chase saw the blood then, oozing through slashes in the right shoulder of her tunic. When he touched the shoulder, she winced. "Is this the same arm Brutus hurt?"

  "It doesn't matter," she whispered, her voice dull and flat.

  Remorse and concern swept through Chase. "It does matter, Nessa." He took her cold hands, tugging her good arm away from her legs. "Come on. I'm taking you to the lab so I can treat your shoulder."

  She tried to pull back. "I just want to be alone."

  "Later," he promised, grasping her waist and lifting her to her feet. "But right now, captain's orders are for you to receive medical treatment. We'll take care of the pain, too."

  "I don't need treatment. The pain doesn't bother me." She shoved against his chest, wincing again from the pressure on her injured shoulder, then quickly hid her discomfort.

  Considering her leg, pain had probably been a familiar and constant companion. But Chase had no intention of her suffering more than she already had, especially since he bore the blame for this situation. If he'd only thought to take more precautions before leaving Nessa on the ship; if he'd been more alert and insisted on accompanying Sabin to Giza's.…

  The realization that even more people had almost died because of him burned a path of self-contempt through his gut.

  "This is not open for debate, Nessa. You can either walk to the lab or I'll carry you. Your choice."

  For a minute, he thought she would defy him. But she turned and limped slowly down the corridor. He followed behind, noting her awkward gait. She had pushed herself to the limits today—and saved his life in the process. Sabin was the only person Chase would ever expect to show such heroics on his behalf.

  He shuddered as they entered the lab. Spirit, how he despised this r
oom. The equipment, the medical supplies, the antiseptic smell—all reminded him of his inadequacies. Even though he'd sworn to never step foot in a lab again, common sense had prevailed when he'd ordered this ship. He'd requested a fully equipped medical lab.

  A shadower's occupation fostered danger, and while he didn't care one iota about his own safety, Chase refused to put innocent people at risk. If Sabin or a bystander suffered injury because of him, he wanted to have the tools for treatment.

  Nessa stood listlessly in the middle of the room, apathy dulling her expression. Taking a thermal blanket from a cabinet, Chase laid it on the table. "Take off your pack and your tunic. You can get under the blanket." He placed his hands into the wall sterilizer.

  The sterilizer beeped off, and he turned back to find her clutching the tunic tightly. This promised to be a battle the entire way. He didn't know if her reluctance to disrobe in front of him came from feminine modesty or her scarred leg, or both. If she only knew how many nude bodies he had examined—Chase exhaled his pent-up breath. Besides, he'd already seen all of her, although he wouldn't point that out.

  "I can't treat those cuts through the tunic." He picked up the thermal blanket and handed it to her. "Now, slip off the pack and your tunic and wrap this around yourself, but keep your shoulders bare. I'll get the supplies."

  He turned toward the medication cabinet. At her soft gasp, he spun around. Nessa clutched the pack that had carried the lanrax. Tufts of midnight blue fur clung near the top. She stared at the fur, her hands trembling, her face deathly white. "Turi," she whispered. "Oh, Turi."

  Her anguish tore at Chase. He strode over and slid his arm around her. She raised startled but dry eyes to his. "It's okay to grieve, Nessa. It's all right to cry and even scream, if that helps."

  Her eyes reflected the depth of her torment, but no tears. "I never cry. It's useless and weak."

  She looked so vulnerable, so fragile, her body rigid with the effort to maintain her composure. But she'd never appeared weak. In fact, Chase admired her spunk and her courage.