Timewalkers 2: Mairi

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by Michele Chambers




  Praise for the writing of Michele Chambers

  Timewalkers 1: Aisling

  Ms. Chambers's Timewalkers 1: Aisling is superb. Filled with tense action, extraordinary characters, and a fresh and interesting plot, Timewalkers 1: Aisling delivers an unforgettable reading experience. This is an auspicious debut for Ms. Chambers and I anxiously await more from this very talented author.

  -- Miaka, Novelspot

  Aisling may be a short paranormal thriller, but it packs a big punch. Ms. Chambers creates an enchanting story that blends action, romance, and humor into these 80 pages. The tale captures the reader's imagination and carries it along for an enjoyable literary ride. Aisling and Luke are fated to be together, and their quick connection is handled beautifully by the author. As I wait impatiently for the next book in the series, I recommend readers pick up their own copy of Aisling today.

  -- Kathy Samuels, Romance Reviews Today

  This is a fantastic read for those who love the paranormal. It is so sexy and sensual… I simply could not walk away without completing the book. Be prepared for all the twists and turns and let us not forget the eroticism.

  -- Suz, Coffee Time Romance

  Ms. Chambers builds a world full of intrigue with Aisling, the first in her new Timewalkers series. For a short story, the plot is well thought out and moves at a rollercoaster pace as Aisling and Luke race against time to stop a virus from getting loose and destroying the world. Aisling is a futuristic love story that is both sensual and suspenseful. Ms. Chambers is off to a good start in this debut to her Timewalkers series.

  -- Tammy, Love Romances

  Timewalkers 1: Aisling is now available from Loose Id.

  TIMEWALKERS 2: MAIRI

  Michele Chambers

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book is rated:

  For explicit sexuality and graphic language.

  Timewalkers 2: Mairi

  Michele Chambers

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © March 2005 by Michele Chambers

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 1-59632-092-3

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Linda Kusiolek

  Cover Artist: April Martinez

  Publisher’s Note

  Timewalkers 1: Aisling, the story of Aisling and Luke, is now available at Loose Id.

  Chapter One

  Timewalker: Mairi Neeshahn

  Homeworld: 2320, Trillia Prime

  Mission: 2104, Herhma -- Prevent Intergalactic War

  Talent: Waterbreather

  According to the Archiver’s calculations, she had three spins left. After that, even if she found the ship, they’d all be dead. Prince Raiden Tzacher among them. War would rage between his home world of Qillius Two and that of his enemy, Herhma. Several other worlds would be caught in the crossfire. Civilians and military throughout the system would be hit. Billions would die. And all because she couldn’t find one little bitty spaceship on the bottom of this strange Fire Sea.

  Mairi Neeshahn cursed fate, scowled at the wind that whipped her wavy black hair about her face, and then turned her attention to the churning green water that rocked the primitive boat she’d stolen. Eight spins she’d been anchored here, searching. Dawn to dusk. She’d found nothing.

  Mairi chewed unenthusiastically on the ration bar that was her lunch. If only the Prince hadn’t insisted on coming to this contract negotiation himself. Herhma could have dealt with an ambassador, or a cousin. But no. The arrogant heir to the throne of Qillius Two didn’t trust anyone. Apparently, that was one thing he’d gotten right.

  Sabotage had taken him down. Someone close to him had turned traitor. Mairi wondered if, when she found him, the Prince would know who the bastard was. If she found him. Now he was trapped at the bottom of the sea, on a hostile planet whose leaders had absolutely no interest in finding him. In fact, she was quite sure they would never acknowledge his presence. His disappearance served their goals perfectly. Prince Raiden and his entire crew could rot down there for a hundred star orbits before anyone would discover their bodies. Well, actually, it had been more like two hundred. That’s why the Archivers sent her.

  She raised her left hand to rub the back of her aching right shoulder. Her Shen birthmark had never bothered her before. Since she’d arrived on this backward planet the thing hadn’t stopped hurting. Today the pain was worse, sometimes stabbing like a knife blade slicing into her shoulder. The mark, according to her mother, was a circle of rope with no beginning and no end. It symbolized eternity and protection. The Shen would also serve as a link between her and her mate.

  Wonderful. Perhaps the Shen was causing her pain to remind her just how close she was to failure.

  Three spins.

  Mairi straightened her shoulders and shouted her denial to the open sea, “You can’t have him!” By all that was holy, she was a Timewalker! Time to stop moping and get back to work. She’d been out of the water long enough for her black swimsuit to completely dry out. Tipping her head back, she finished what was left of her purified water. Wriggling her arms back into the sleeves of her water-slicked, quarter-inch wetsuit was a bit more of a challenge. Once she was again covered from neck to ankles, she quickly tamed her wild hair into a braid, slipped the Prince’s air tank and attached hoses onto her back, wiggled her feet back into her plastic fins, and kicked back over the side of the boat into the water.

  A sudden crash of sound was followed by pronounced quiet. The peaceful ebb and flow of water surrounded her, calmed her. Totally relaxed, she allowed the weighted belt around her waist to drag her toward the bottom of the sea. This must be what death felt like. Weightless. Peaceful. Slowly being pulled somewhere new.

  She hated the weights, but the suit that kept her from freezing to death also made her so buoyant she couldn’t get underwater by herself. The water depth varied between two hundred and three hundred feet on this particular shelf. Her body’s limits had been tested relentlessly. Without doubt, she could go deeper. She hoped that wouldn’t be necessary.

  That annoying internal voice screamed at her that she was already close to her diving limit. The stabbing pain in her shoulder was getting worse. She felt like someone had her head hooked up to a helium tank and was blowing it up. The rest of her felt like a giant fist was squeezing her insides into jelly. It could be worse. Much worse. Two hundred feet was nothing in the Fire Sea. And this is where the Archiver told her to search, so this is where she searched.

  Forcing the last of the air from her lungs, she drew in her first breath of water. Her body protested the cool flow, but nu
mbness set in soon enough. Then she didn’t feel anything but the soft glide of water up and down her windpipe. Her lung tissue’s ability to extract oxygen from both air and water was a rare gift, held only by the survivors of Atlantis. A handful of women from some planet called Earth. All of the women who’d survived, according to her mother, had become Timewalkers.

  Mairi hoped her Atlantean sisters were having better luck than she was.

  Everything was flat and empty beneath her. No coral. No caves. She swam over a flat desert of red sand that just happened to be a couple hundred feet underwater. Visibility was nearly limitless. The difficulty lay in the fact that Prince Charming’s ship contained technology which made it invisible. But he was there somewhere, hiding in the empty world stretched out below her.

  A sudden jolt of pain stabbed into her shoulder. Then her birthmark burned, throbbed like she’d just been branded with a hot iron. Closing her eyes against the pain, she floated in place. Something was wrong. The nagging little voice in her head no longer whispered to her, it yelled. Insistent. She’d forgotten something, something important.

  Clear as a bell she recalled her mother’s lilting recital in her mind... The Shen will serve as a link.

  Was it possible that her mate was on board that ship? The Archiver said the prince left Qillius Two with a crew of five. When the ship was found, only three bodies were onboard. Perhaps one of those three was meant to be hers.

  Keeping her eyes closed, Mairi focused her entire being on the Shen heating up her right shoulder. She swam around at random until she felt the mark begin to cool. Then she turned. She used the birthmark like a homing beacon. The hotter it got, the faster she swam until her foot hit something solid beneath her. Eager for success, she opened her eyes.

  An open expanse of water greeted her. More sand. Her scream of frustration didn’t sound much different than a dolphin’s cry.

  One moment of vexation was all she allowed herself. She wasn’t wrong about this. She felt it. Forcing logic into her waterlogged mind, she looked around, kicked again. Her foot had hit something once. All she had to do was find it.

  Hands splayed before her leading the way, she swam down for a count of three, then felt cool metal beneath her fingertips. At last. Success felt good. For the first time since she’d arrived, a smile stretched her lips. If she could find an invisible ship, it shouldn’t be too difficult to figure out a way to get inside.

  She slipped the air tank’s latch loose from around her waist and swung the heavy metal canister into the side of the ship. The clanging sound rode through the water, pounded in her ears, flowed through her body and resonated for miles. Prince Charming was sure to hear it. Assuming someone was still alive, and well enough to let her in. If not, she’d already failed.

  Several minutes later, her arm was going numb from swinging the heavy metal air tank against the ship. How long could it take to open a door and let her in?

  A long time. Especially if they were already dead.

  Just as hope deserted her, she felt the ship shudder. A massive burst of air exploded from the top of the ship, then bubbled to the surface. She swam for the opening, pulling her equipment behind her. Someone was still alive. Thank God.

  In no time she was inside the airlock door. She had to force her diaphragm to keep moving when the door slid closed behind her.

  Brilliant move, Mairi. Way to think things through ahead of time. She was trapped. Caged like a rat. The only thing more suffocating than the inky blackness around her was the silence. Heaven help her if whoever was on the other side of that door decided to let her rot.

  * * * * *

  Raiden Tzacher paced his small cabin, alone. Here he didn’t have to hold his shoulders straight, despite the wound there. Habit had led him to his one haven, even though there was only one man left alive to witness his pain. His failure. And even he’d be dead soon. Nothing could stop Trillian poison. Nothing. His last crewman had an hour left, at most.

  He wouldn’t last much longer than his friend. A day. Perhaps two. Then all of their sacrifices would be for naught. Three of his closest friends were laid out in the med unit. One of them writhing in agony, dying of poison. Poison meant for him. Two killed in the firefight that followed Apolo’s attack. And the traitor had escaped.

  Treason still twisted his insides, gnawing away at his heart, ripping into his consciousness like the sharpest snake’s teeth. He’d ride to Hellsgate as fast as a Fire-steed would take him the moment he passed from this life. Be that tomorrow, or eighty orbits from now. The betrayer would pay. Apolo Calchus. Childhood friend. Cousin. Trusted confidant.

  There was only one word for him now. Enemy. And the demon spawn had escaped his wrath, walked among his family, who were still blissfully unaware of Apolo’s duplicity.

  “The Demons take you, Apolo!” Hurtling a crystal goblet against the far wall, Raiden reopened the wound in his shoulder. The splintering glass was his world. Tiny pieces, worthless shards that had once been brilliant with purpose. Fresh blood trickled down his back, following the flow of its earlier river. Mortality loomed. Worse, he’d fail his mission if he couldn’t get off this ship alive.

  Time to try something crazy. He was dead already if he didn’t.

  He threw a black bag on his military style long bed. His identification and intergalactic credit disk hit the bottom with a thwack. Had to pack light. His shoulder wouldn’t carry a heavy weight for long. A few more items hit the bag. A knife. His family seal. A copy of the ship’s log, the log that documented all of Apolo’s machinations for his world to see. Done. Without looking back, he swung the pack onto his shoulders. Silently, but slowly, the door opened before him. The ship’s energy cells were running low. Time to get out or die trying.

  PING.

  Raiden froze.

  PING... PING... PING...

  Over and over the sound reverberated through the ship. Someone was outside. But who? Qillius Two’s military was the only entity capable of locating his ship, and only the royal guard had a record of his transmission signature. If they had been able to read his signal through this iron heavy water, they would have sent a recovery team to salvage his ship immediately. None but a few of his most trusted men knew he’d gone to Herhma, was meeting their prince. Not a soul left alive knew he was lost here, wherever here was. No one except Apolo. Had the betrayer come back to finish the job?

  Renewed energy burned the fatigue from his bloodstream. His chance for retribution was at hand. Time for Apolo to face Justice. The manual airlocks were one of the few things still operational. He’d draw his cousin, the Bezza Snake, inside, then strangle him. Watch the wicked serpent choke and die on his own traitorous venom. If Apolo thought to bargain with him now, he was in for a surprise.

  PING... PING... PING...

  Then he’d swim for the surface and pray for a miracle. Assuming he made it to the surface without meeting one of this planet’s predatory sea creatures. Five times his size and ferocious carnivores, the Fire Beasts fascinated him. Unfortunately, his reading material said they could smell a single drop of blood from half a sea away. Dipping his shoulder wound in the water would be like putting a raw slab of fresh meat in front of them.

  Eat up, boys.

  Didn’t matter. Anything was better than waiting to rot down here.

  PING... PING... PING...

  “Insistent. I’ll give you that.” Raiden raced down the narrow golden corridors until he reached the small airlock that allowed other ships to dock with his. With a mighty heave, he turned the handle that would open the outer portal. “Or perhaps, just eager to die.”

  Water thundered into the small space he’d opened. The force rocked his ship and sent vibrations up through his arms into his shoulders. The pinging sound stopped. Good. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

  He slid down the wall to sit on the thick black fabric that carpeted his ship’s corridors. His baby. His birthday gift on his twenty-first orbit. All black and gold, denoting his statio
n as the royal heir to Qillius Two. Small. Stealthy. Fast. With every luxury known to man. Hand woven, gold-lined tapestries. Crystal goblets. The best food. Every system automated. Every weapon, too. He could take out a Herhman quadrant with one shot of his sonic canon.

  He’d christened his ship Raelle, in honor of his newborn baby sister. Raiden patted the carpet beneath him. “Raelle, old girl, what will become of you?” What would become of his ship? She’d sit in this makeshift graveyard, far from home and forgotten. Every vital system she contained had been sabotaged by Apolo.

  And what of his sister? His family? His world? The world Apolo would take apart piece by painful piece because none knew the truth? His chest tightened until he couldn’t draw a breath without shaking. Don’t think about that now. Not yet. You’re not dead yet.

  The tracking light glowed a brilliant orange. Good. His prey had arrived in the airlock. He struggled to his feet and turned the manual lock until the airlock light lit gold. The air pump kicked in and its wild vibration made the bottom of his feet go numb. A few minutes were all it took to rid the room of its water and fill it with some of his precious air.

  Ignoring the shaking of his hand, he placed his palm flat on the scanner to authorize the doors to open. Then he backed away until he had a clear shot at the door with his one remaining weapon. The dying ship managed to get the heavy doors open just a couple of feet. All thought fled. Raiden saw his hand in front of him holding the blaster pistol, steady as a rock, foreign, no longer part of himself. He allowed his conscious self to sink deeply into the machine that his body became in preparation to kill. A machine that held no thought, no hesitation, and no remorse.

 

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