"Where are we?" she asked, struggling to rise.
"In the lab. Lie still." Chase pushed her down and retrieved a blanket from the cabinet.
She grabbed his wrist as he spread the blanket over her, her dark eyes huge. "Where is Sabin?" she rasped.
Asking for Travers the minute she regained consciousness. Why should he care? Chase pulled away from her grip. "He had some business to attend to." Taking a hypochamber, he filled it with a coagulant and a fever-reducing compound. He'd start an intravenous strip after he got her cleaned up.
"Oh," she sighed, sinking back and closing her eyes. Seconds later, they flew open. "Have we left Intrepid yet?"
"Not yet." Chase deftly injected the medication.
Her eyes followed him like heat-seeking missiles. "I must get to Zirak. But I have to talk to Sabin first."
He resisted the urge to slam his fist into something. "I have no idea where Travers is. He could have departed by now, for all I know. As for Zirak, I'm afraid you're in no condition for a pagan lunar celebration."
She pushed up, panic etched on her face. "I must get there. It's crucial." She drew a deep breath, her body trembling.
It always came back to reaching Zirak. Nothing else had ever mattered. Yet nagging doubts diluted Chase's anger. Nessa had treated his injuries, saved his life. What had compelled her to alter his identification file, when she could have simply taken his ship?
Had she hoped it would merely delay him getting free on Odera? Perhaps she didn't understand the Controllers, how they operated. He wanted desperately to believe she hadn't known what she was doing. But he suspected she did.
"Is getting to Zirak as important as staying alive?" he snapped.
She started to reply just as the hatch tone reverberated through the chamber.
"That's Travers now." Removing his mask and gloves, Chase headed for the entry panel. "I'll get him. You stay right there."
He strode down the corridor, but an ominously familiar figure, along with two Anteks, brought him up short.
Heading for the cockpit, Dansan whirled around when she heard Chase. They stared at one other. He battled the flood of memories and pain he always experienced when he encountered this soulless being; when he stared into eyes containing no shred of human decency.
Dansan's evil aura lingered so strongly around her, he asked himself for the thousandth time how he and a whole society could have been so blind to the monster within the woman.
Regaining his wits, he realized he had no weapons on him. Not that it would have done him much good, not with the disrupters Dansan's two henchmen had trained on him.
"McKnight," Dansan drawled, her pale eyes glittering. "What are you doing here? I heard you'd been detained at base command."
She couldn't have known he'd been arrested. Unless she had spies planted at the command center, a likely possibility.
"This is my ship. Why wouldn't I be here?" he countered, stalling to formulate a game plan. His stunner. By the hatch, where he'd laid it yesterday. He stepped toward the hatch, halting when Dansan's guards tensed and raised their weapons higher.
Dansan strutted forward, her tight flightsuit showing off every curve of her muscular body. She kept herself in top physical condition, but her age had begun to show in her face. Face replacements only worked so many times.
"I expected you to be delayed much, much longer," she crooned in her throaty voice.
Even with contacts at base command, she couldn't have gotten to Intrepid this quickly, unless she'd already been headed here. Chase inched toward the hatch. "How did you know I was on Intrepid?"
"I have my sources, McKnight. Even after all this time, you continue to underestimate me."
He'd never underestimate the evil this woman was capable of. "So you thought you'd check out my ship—maybe even take it?"
She coolly scanned the corridor. "It's a nice ship. I wouldn't mind adding it to my fleet."
A nagging suspicion snaked into Chase's mind. Dansan never did anything by chance, so she really must have believed he would be delayed a while. "What made you so certain I wouldn't be returning to my ship any time soon?"
Her eyes met his, diabolical, cold. "Let's just say I arranged your detention. Although I rather expected you to be detained on Odera."
Realization slammed into Chance with the force of a rocket launcher. Dansan possessed almost as much knowledge about computers as she did genetic engineering. She must have been the one who altered the records on Odera, not Nessa. She probably had his voice and hand prints recorded somewhere, a remainder from their dealings on Torin.
She'd had ample opportunity to access the computer data base on Odera, as the authorities hadn't known of her presence there. He hadn't thought to tell them, assuming she'd fled. Not that anyone would have arrested her. Fury rose at the knowledge that this woman had successfully infiltrated every level of government and society with bribes and threats.
"Is that why you altered my identification records?" he demanded. "To confiscate my ship?"
"Your ship would have been a side benefit, McKnight. I just wanted to put you out of action for a while."
So Dansan had altered his records. He'd accused Nessa without ever giving her a fair chance. "Why put me out of commission, Dansan? I thought you enjoyed the challenge of pursuit."
"Perhaps I enjoyed outwitting you for a time. But I grow weary of looking over my shoulder at every turn." She strolled forward and ran a finger down the front of his flightsuit. Her nose wrinkled. "My, my, aren't we filthy. What's this? Welts, dried blood? Hmmm, I don't mind a little sweat, and I do so like the taste of blood. I might be persuaded to prolong your miserable life a while longer."
Nausea roiled inside Chase. His nemesis, this close, and he could do nothing to her. She'd lusted after him even when they were supposed allies, working to mine the iridon. He'd refused her advances politely but firmly, not attracted to her in the least. Hatred and revulsion filled him. He battled the urge to wrap his hands around her treacherous throat, knowing he'd be killed on the spot if he did.
Unable to touch her, he glared into her eyes. He found no light, no spirit in those dispassionate, icy orbs. Only greed and death.
"Tell me, why don't you have a price on your head, like the common criminal you are?" he asked, slipping closer to the hatch.
"You just don't get it, do you?" she sneered. "Everyone has their price, McKnight. Everyone. Including the all-mighty Controllers. They wanted a way to get to the Shielders, and I supplied it. They willingly provided Shielder prisoners for my experiments. Once I isolated the chemical providing Shielder immunity to mind domination, all I had to do was create a virus that would bond with the unique Shielder DNA. The Controllers were most grateful. They wouldn't dream of disposing of me. They might need my services again."
She'd created Orana! The revelation stunned Chase. But that explained why the virus had proven so lethal to Shielders. Using her twisted genius, Dansan had engineered Ramos and then Orana, all for money, knowingly setting in motion the destruction of at least two groups of people.
And yet, no one seemed to care. Was there no justice in the universe?
A blinding flash of white-hot rage barreled through him. There damn well would be justice. With a bellow, he charged Dansan, knocking her into the nearest Antek, who crashed backward.
Chase hit the floor and rolled toward the hatch, kicking the legs from under the second Antek. Leaping to his feet, he swept up his weapon and whirled toward Dansan. Too late. He faced the disrupter she aimed at him.
"Drop it," she hissed. Behind him, he heard the two Anteks staggering to their feet. He didn't stand a chance if he tried to fire. He dropped the stunner.
Her face twisted with contempt. "Your so-called weapon wouldn't have hurt me anyway, McKnight. Your stunners don't begin to compare to a disrupter, and everyone knows you keep your 'toys' on a low setting."
Chase's chest heaved and his heart pounded from the impotent rage roaring through him. He
balled his fists and drew a deep breath. "Unlike you and the Controllers, Dansan, I don't have to scramble the brain and nervous system to control my prisoners."
She shook her head, her eyes gleaming. "Such a bleeding heart, Dr. McKnight. I'll bet you wept over those fools on Torin. But your weakness is my advantage. You could never kill me. That would be murder, and you swore to protect life."
She was wrong. Dead wrong. He’d dreamed of finding Dansan, of placing a gun to her head and blowing her evil mind away, for the past three seasons. Maybe he couldn’t have taken a life before she murdered virtually everyone in his colony, but pain and the burning desire for revenge had forged him into a ruthless bastard. He could dispatch her to the fires of the Abyss without any regret.
Like a predator closing in for the kill, she stepped closer. "I always wondered what you planned to do with me if you ever actually caught me. But I know what I'm going to do with you. If I happen to be in an amorous mood, I might enjoy your body for a while, before I inject you with the Ramos. Then I plan to watch you die, McKnight. Slowly, in agony, like the rest of your witless clan."
An insidious cold congealed in his chest. He felt oddly detached, as if he were watching the scenario from a holo screen. He knew he'd rather die fighting than give this madwoman the satisfaction of watching him go insane. As he prepared to launch into drastic action, a movement to his left caught his eye.
Nessa. She sidled quietly along the corridor, a gun clutched in her hand. He could see her trembling. She'd get herself killed. Before he could react, she raised a shaking arm toward the Anteks behind him. Just then, she stumbled, drawing all attention her direction.
Chase seized the distraction. He hit Dansan with a high kick to the chest, hurtling her across the corridor. She stumbled into the brig cubicle on the other side. Nessa fired at one Antek, as Chase whirled and gut punched the second one. The first Antek slumped over, a wound in his chest.
Chase dove for his stunner. The second Antek charged with a roar just as Chase scooped up his weapon. The brute slammed him in the back, and he went down, the breath knocked out of him. He managed to roll again, his stunner in his hands. As he rolled, he kicked the Antek in the groin, and the soldier screamed in pain and lurched away.
Halfway to his feet, Chase froze when he saw Dansan had gained her footing inside the brig cubicle and had her disrupter trained on him. Hatred set her face in an ugly mask, and her white hair swirled wildly around her face.
"This weapon is at the highest scramble setting, McKnight. It won't kill you immediately. You'll experience the total disruption of all signals to your brain and nervous system before you die. You'll hallucinate your worst nightmares, while your nerve endings will have you writhing and screaming in agony. It will take a while, but you'll die eventually. Good riddance, McKnight."
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then. He saw Dansan's finger slide over the discharge button. At the same time, he heard Nessa gasp, "No!" and saw her lunge for the brig control pad. His hand tightened on the stunner in a futile race to beat Dansan to the first shot. He saw Nessa hit the force field pad just as Dansan discharged the disrupter.
The flash momentarily blinded him. Dansan's scream of pain reverberated down the corridor. He blinked his eyes to clear his vision. She writhed and twitched on the floor, moaning, then stilled. He didn't spare more than a cursory glance her way. The force field had amplified her disrupter beam as it rebounded. He could do nothing for her now.
He whirled as the Antek he'd kicked charged again. Raising his stunner, Chase shot the Antek in the chest, and he crashed to the floor, unconscious. Dropping his weapon, Chase turned his attention to Nessa.
She'd saved his life again.
Her huge eyes fixed on his face, she slid slowly down the wall. He rushed to her and eased her down into his arms. She stared at him, fever glazing her eyes.
"Is she dead?"
He glanced at the inert form in the brig. Dansan's absolute stillness verified what he already knew. She posed no further threat to anyone. He'd waited for this moment for three seasons. Now that it had arrived, he felt nothing. No joy, no release…nothing. "Yes, she's dead."
"She created viruses to kill people," Nessa whispered through parched lips.
Hundreds of people, Chase thought grimly. The cost in human life not even important, just the monetary gain. "She won't murder again." He brushed her hair back. "Don't try to talk any more. We'll get you help."
Gazing at his face, she lifted a shaking hand to his cheek. "Too late…." She paused, gasping for breath. "Take care of the children. Chase, I—"
"What happened here? Is Nessa injured?"
Chase whirled to see Sabin stepping over the unconscious Anteks, followed by another man. "Where the hell have you been, Travers? Dansan and her henchmen decided to help themselves to my ship. Nessa's not injured, but she collapsed. I need to get her into the lab."
The man with Sabin leaped across the bodies and strode over. "Nessa!"
She jerked in Chase's arms, reaching toward the man. "Jarek! You're safe!"
A wave of jealousy hit Chase as he stared up at the dark-haired young man looking at Nessa with open emotion on his face. Jarek leaned toward her, but Sabin pulled him back. "Don't get too close."
"Thank you, Sabin." With a sigh, she went limp in Chase's arms. The stimulant injection had long since worn off, and only sheer determination had kept her conscious.
Chase didn't have time to question whom Jarek was to Nessa. He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the lab. By the time he placed her on the table, tremors were shaking her body. He covered her and lowered the heatwave light, then began cleaning her arm to apply an intravenous strip.
From the entry, Sabin cleared his throat. "Chase, we need to talk to you about Nessa's condition."
His partner rarely called him by his first name; something in his tone caught Chase's attention. He shifted his attention to Sabin. "Just what do you know about this?"
Sabin gestured to the man beside him. "First of all, this is Jarek san Ranul. He's Nessa's brother, and he can tell you more than I can."
Nessa's brother! A sense of relief swept through Chase, but he didn't have time to ponder it. He looked at the serious young man. "Then tell me, and quickly. She's running out of time."
Jarek looked at Nessa, grief contorting his face. "She has Orana. She was injected with it almost one moon cycle ago."
"What?" Chase lowered her arm and stepped toward Jarek. "Orana! But —only a Shielder can contract it. That means—" He whirled as the full implication hit him, and stared at the inert form on the table.
A Shielder! Nessa was a Shielder.
Stunned, he spun back around and looked from Sabin to Jarek, then back to Sabin. His partner nodded, confirming the staggering truth.
"Who did this to her?" Chase growled.
"It's not what you think," Jarek said. "She volunteered as a live host to carry the virus. She was taking it to—to a medical laboratory for analysis."
"To Santerra?" Chase asked. He knew no honorable Shielder would ever reveal a base or colony location to a non-Shielder. He had just happened to stumble on the facility at Santerra once, but had never exposed its location. He had no intention of participating in genocide.
Jarek paled even further. "Don't worry," Chase assured him. "I won't reveal the base location. I have no quarrel with Shielders."
"Then you won't turn in Nessa or Jarek?" Sabin asked.
"I'm not planning on it."
Sabin cleared his throat. "Why not? Your Controller indoctrination—"
"Never took," Chase interrupted, understanding Sabin's implication. "I went through the required procedure like all other agents, but I took steps that protected me from psionic mind control."
He turned back to Nessa, the pieces falling into place. Her desperation to reach Zirak, only a few days from Santerra, as quickly as possible. A desperation finally reaching such great proportions, she stole his ship. "Why didn't she tel
l me? I would have taken her directly there."
"You're a shadower, old man. She was afraid to tell you." Sabin moved beside him. "You have to help her, Chase."
Orana. A virus reputed to be every bit as atrocious as Ramos, created by the same twisted genius. And if Dansan had employed similar genetic traits, then the virus mutated at regular intervals, making it virtually impossible to find an antidote.
Panic slammed through Chase, sucking him into an undertow of painful memories, dragging him back in time.…The bodies everywhere, overflowing the infirmary into the corridors, faces twisted in agony. All the while he rushed here and there, trying desperately to tend to the ill, and at the same time create a counteragent to the virus ravaging its victims. Every time he thought he had the cure, the insidious strain changed again.
"Chase, help me," his sister Chandra had gasped, clinging to his hands, writhing uncontrollably on the mat. "I know you can help me. You're the best…the best."
But in the end, her sightless eyes had stared up at him, a mocking reminder of his colossal failure to save any of the victims. His parents, his brother, his best friend, all dead. He had failed them all. The only ones spared besides him were those few who had been away on a trade mission.
He never knew for sure why the disease hadn't claimed him. The most plausible reason was that he hadn't drunk from the communal water supply into which Dansan had dumped the virus. He preferred Merlain spring water and always kept a supply on hand. Once the virus had manifested, he'd taken further precautions, using masks and gloves.
He'd turned his back on medicine the day the last body had been lowered into the unforgiving ground. Swearing vengeance on Dansan, he promised the remaining colony members he'd bring her back to stand trial for her crimes. He began a pursuit that had taken three seasons. And now…
He stared at Nessa, her frail body racked with chills. Terror threatened to consume him; his heart pounded fiercely against his chest. She couldn't die on him. Not now, not when he was just beginning to realize how much she meant to him, how very much he needed her. But the apocalypse at Torin haunted him, immobilized him with fear.
Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) Page 23