by Cathryn Cade
“You there, guards,” he said. “What in the galaxy is going on in there? We’ve heard all kinds of loud noises—like a fight of some kind. And my wife distinctly smelled smoke. If there is trouble on this ship, I demand to know. Seems to me this cruise line would be watching its Ps & Qs after the excitement on the first two voyages.”
Izard’s expressive brows shot up. He exchanged a look with Yvene, who widened her eyes at him and shrugged unhelpfully. Izard bent closer to the tourist.
“Well, sir. It’s that Aquarian prince. Another of his little…entertainments.”
The tourist gasped and Izard nodded wisely. “A magician from Teradathia.”
The tourists let out their breath on a collective sigh. Yvene bit her lip.
“But what was he doing?” one dared to ask. “It—it sounded like a wild beast roaring. And—and the smoke?”
“Well, I’m really not allowed to say, sir, but just between us, it involved a large smoke-wolf and several dancing girls.”
“Oh, my stars,” breathed the man. “You don’t say.”
“Disgusting,” said Yvene virtuously.
“Oooh, yes,” agreed the tourist’s wife, who had sidled close enough to hear. She scurried away.
“Don’t breathe a word about this, will you?” said Izard, looking concerned.
“Oh, no, of course not,” said the man. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Er, the smoke-wolf isn’t on the loose, is it?”
“Oh, no, sir. Back into its cage and probably on the magician’s shuttle by now. I believe he mentioned another engagement on Carillon this evening.”
“Oh.” The tourist’s face fell.
Izard and Yvene sauntered away.
“A smoke-wolf?” she murmured. “That was a masterful touch, my love.”
He allowed himself a small smile. “Yes. How long before the story is all over the ship, d’you think?”
She shrugged. “Oh, an hour, give or take. It’s a big ship.”
They reached his quarters, and he ushered her inside. They both sank onto the divan, breathing identical deep sighs of weariness.
“Did you suspect?” she asked without opening her eyes, “that Commander Stone was Dragolin?”
“No more than you did,” he said ruefully. “I merely wondered whether he and Sirena would cause the Orion to burst into flames with the force of their passion.”
“Very poetic,” she approved, amusement clear in her voice. “When we’ve had a rest, perhaps we can cause a small conflagration ourselves.”
He pulled her into the curve of his lean body and rested his cheek on her hair.
“I’m certain of it,” he mumbled. “Just give me time to rest first. It’s been seven hells of a day.”
Craig, Navos and Halix stood in the command deck, looking at the device that lay in pieces on a lab tray.
“Just as you suspected, Captain, this is a controller,” Halix said, his round lavender face for once grave. “The lab techs have found that it correlates with the devices found implanted in the wraith serpents’ cerebellums. We also found another piece—a tracking device planted on the prince.”
“There is a diabolical mind behind this scheme,” Navos said. “The intention seems to have been to kill the prince publicly, along with any others they could manage and thus completely discredit the Orion and LodeStar Corporation.”
“And the boy and the cadet were simply experiments,” Craig said disgustedly. “To see if the device would work.”
“It was more than that in the end,” Navos said. “The handler discovered that he quite enjoyed the hunt and the kill.”
“Well, we’ll see how the little slime ball enjoys his trial and a life sentence on the prison planet, Deep Six.”
“So even though they came out of eggs, those were not newly hatched wraiths, but full grown adults?” Halix asked.
“Yes, the serpents were sedated and placed inside false kronos eggs, made with some iridium alloy, which is very difficult to penetrate with a micro-scanner, by the way—we will want to study that, Mr. Halix. The false eggs were then placed with her real ones, which were about to hatch. When we were out in space, the handler activated the controller and woke the serpents up. They ‘hatched’, devoured the kronos young and a few other small pets, and were set loose to begin their hunt.”
Craig turned away from the device, striding over to look at space flung out before them. Aquarius was in view, growing larger as they neared it, a hazy blue ball.
“Meanwhile, the prince and his party are nearly safely home. Now that you’ve examined the perpetrator, are we any closer to knowing who is behind this, Daron?”
Navos joined him, shaking his head. “I am afraid not. The handler knows only his part in the scheme. His uncle, who supplied the snakes, has fled. The InterGalactic Space Forces will find him, of course, but it may take some time.”
“Access his credit history,” Halix suggested. “He will have been paid.”
“A large infusion of credit was recently deposited to his account,” Navos agreed. “But it was generic—untraceable.”
“What about sat-com surveillance?” Halix asked. “Pangaea has a most comprehensive system in place. All visitors to the serpentorium should be recorded.”
“Mr. Halix, I am grateful you turned your talents toward LodeStar and the Orion,” said Craig wryly. “You’d have made an excellent addition to the space forces. Why don’t you access the sat-com system and let us know what you find? I imagine the space forces investigator, Lt. Qwerx, will welcome your input.”
Halix bowed, beaming. “Thank you, Captain. I will contact him at once.”
“Yes,” said Navos. “I believe he is a compatriot of yours.”
“Ah.” Looking intrigued, Halix hurried away.
Craig sank into a chair and rubbed his hand over his face. Then he looked up, a smile lighting his tired face as Tessa walked into the room. She carried a tray with three steaming mugs on it.
“I brought you a hot drink,” she said.
“And the sun,” her husband murmured as she leaned over to hand him his mug.
She smiled at him and he grabbed his mug hastily as it tipped dangerously over his lap.
“Oh, sorry,” she winced.
“Didn’t spill a drop.” He grinned. “Here, sit down with me.”
“I will, as soon as Commander Navos has his drink.”
Navos joined them, and the two men drank deeply.
“How is Sirena?” Craig asked.
“She will recover,” Tessa said. “But Dr. Tentaclar says that if Commander Stone had not sucked out some of the poison and cauterized the wound, she might well be dead.”
“I doubt she would have survived at all, were she not Serpentian,” Navos said.
Tessa nodded. “Yes, we have some immunity to venom. Still, wraiths can be deadly even to us.”
“Commander Stone was bitten several times, yet he has suffered no ill effects,” Navos mused. “His Dragolin side appears to be completely immune.”
“Not entirely,” Tessa said with a shudder. “I saw the bite marks on his arms. He will have painful bruises for some time.”
She shook her head wonderingly. “I can’t believe he’s a Dragolin. I mean, it’s as if Prince Azuran had disguised himself and decided to work on the Orion.”
Her eyes met her husband’s, and they shared a look of amusement. The Aquarian prince, with his lordly manner, clad in a ship’s uniform and serving the passengers? Impossible to imagine.
“The serpent’s bites would have killed Prince Azuran, that’s for damn sure,” Craig said. He drained his mug and set it down with a sigh. Then he laughed without humor. “Well, we’ve averted disaster once again, and all thanks to a shape-shifting guard commander I didn’t know we had onboard. I honestly can’t think of one more damn thing these saboteurs could try to take us down. And if they do, who knows? Perhaps we’ll turn out to have a wizard or faery in our ranks.”
“That would be most useful,” his wife ag
reed dryly. “But surely you’re right, and there is nothing left to attempt that will get past our defenses.”
“The most potent weapon is that which does not know it is a weapon,” Navos murmured.
Craig and Tessa looked at him, and he shrugged. “Merely a quote from my studies at the Indigon university. I don’t know what made me think of it at this time.”
He rose. “Thank you for the drink, Mrs. Craig. Captain, I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”
Craig nodded. As the hatch slid shut, he turned to his bride.
She was looking after Navos, a slight frown on her lovely face. “He’s very cryptic at times.”
Her husband grunted, his face weary and drawn.
“Enough of Commander Navos, Mrs. Craig,” he said. “Why don’t you come over here so I can thank you properly for that drink?”
She slipped onto his lap, her arms curving about his neck as his arms settled around her.
“Yes, Captain.”
He pressed his lips to the tender curve of her throat above her uniform. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”
She leaned her cheek against his hair. “Just keep asking the right questions and you won’t have to.”
“Hmm. I can think of one I’ll ask you later, in our quarters,” he murmured, but his face was still troubled.
She cupped his cheek in her hand. “It will be all right, won’t it, Steven?”
He sighed. “I hope so, love.” He kissed her, and then set her on her feet, rising with her. “Now I’ve got to go and placate a prince.”
She bit back a grin at his wry look.
“I’d rather face a phalanx of Ogre’n,” he said.
“Princes,” she agreed sympathetically. “You can’t just shoot ’em.”
Her husband was laughing as they parted in the passageway.
Chapter Twenty-six
Slyde sat beside Sirena’s bed in the infirmary. He held her hand in his; small, cool and nearly lifeless. So different from when she was awake. She was so fiery, so decisive, that she seemed to take up a larger space. Now she looked slight and feminine lying in the airbed.
“Don’t even think of letting this take you, siren,” he whispered to her. “I can’t go on in a galaxy without you.”
He felt an unfamiliar emotion coursing inside him—fear. Fear that she might yet succumb to the poison working in her system.
“You’re sure you got all the poison?” he asked Tentaclar as the doctor came in once again to check the IV and the cellular monitors. A tech hovered nearby, but Slyde noticed the doctor did not move far away from his patient. That was fine with him.
“I am sure,” the old doctor said, two of his eyes swinging around to focus on Slyde. “Don’t worry, Commander. Your quick reaction saved her. You were able to remove enough of the poison and cauterize the wound so that no infection could take hold. We then flushed her system completely. She just needs rest.”
Slyde sighed deeply. “I don’t doubt you, Doctor,” he said. “I simply will not be able to accept that she is safe until she’s awake and alert.”
“You should rest as well,” Tentaclar said. “Although you’ve an amazing constitution—fascinating how your body was able to repel the wraith venom—your wounds will heal more quickly with sleep. We can bring another airbed in here for you.”
Slyde shook his head. Though his wounds ached and throbbed with cold fire, he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until she woke.
Because, he acknowledged silently, he feared her waking as well. What would her reaction to him be once she recovered? Would their passion stand the test of time, or would he simply be another sensual interlude for her?
Through the long hours of the night, others came and went. Tentaclar was in and out, as were the medtechs. Craig and Tessa, Navos, Izard and Yvene were allowed in to her bedside. They came quietly, looking down at her as she lay pale and still in the thermal wrappings of the air bed, her flame bright hair the only color. They asked him how she did, if there were any changes.
There were not, until the next morning. He had at last been coaxed away from her side for a meal, a shower-dry and a change of clothing. He walked back into the infirmary to find Tentaclar beaming and the techs hovering with cheerful faces.
“Her vital signs are picking up,” Tentaclar told him. “She will wake soon.”
Slyde sat down with a thump, his legs suddenly weak. Relief fizzed through his veins like champagne. He gazed down at Sirena and saw her lashes flutter. Then her eyes opened and she gazed blankly at the room before her.
“Siren.” His voice sounded as rough as rocks rumbling down the mountainside and he swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat. Leaning over her, he lifted her hand to his face.
Her eyes focused on his. One corner of her mouth quirked.
“This must not be…the heavens,” she mumbled. “If my irritating…co-commander is here.”
He gave a snort of laughter. “No, it’s still the Orion. You’re not rid of me that easily, Commander Blaze.”
He turned her hand over and pressed a kiss to her palm. Then he sat back to let Tentaclar move forward.
“It’s about time you decided to wake up, Commander,” chirped the doctor. “I was ready to jump start you with one of my handy little lifesaving devices.”
“A girl can’t even take…a little beauty rest…without you two pestering her,” Sirena retorted, but her voice trailed away and her eyes slipped shut again.
Tentaclar worked over her, fussing with various gauges and tubes on the machines monitoring her.
“Well, she’s lucid,” he said. “This is good. Very good. She’ll wake a little longer next time.”
Slyde sat, holding her hand, stroking the soft skin of her inner wrist with his thumb. He gazed bleakly at her sleeping face.
Yes, she would wake again. And then they would have to talk.
Sirena woke with a jerk, her breath catching in her throat. She lay there for a moment, her eyes darting wildly around her, searching for the slithering evil that had threatened to envelop her.
No, she was safe in the Orion’s infirmary, wrapped in warm, cozy blankets, floating in the comfort of an airbed. And beside her, sprawled in a chair, snoring, was the male she had just seen attacked by a nightmare apparition that had dragged him down and devoured him in blackness.
She closed her eyes against the hot tears that threatened, shuddering with a silent sob. Ah, she was as weak and fearful as a babe. This was not her, weeping in terror of losing a man. She was stronger than that.
She drew a deep breath, then another, forcing the tears back with the strength of her will. She was Sirena Blaze, commander of the elite forces of the Serpentian guard, the envy of many and servant of none. She did not weep for maudlin emotions.
She turned her head, though, just to look at him again and found his eyes open, gleaming like amber jewels in the soft light. He smiled drowsily, creases appearing in his cheeks.
“Hello, siren. Welcome back.”
He looked so delicious, part of her wanted to lie there and just drink him in, lap him up like a big fruit drink. She scowled at such syrupy sentiment.
“I’m thirsty.”
He rose, stretching, although she noticed he winced as he did so.
“I’ll get you a drink.”
He brought her a packaged gremel juice and tipped the straw into her mouth so she could drink. It was sweet and refreshing, nectar to her parched mouth.
She gazed up at him while she drank, her eyes widening as she remembered everything that had happened to bring her here.
“You,” she accused as soon as the straw left her mouth. “You … are the dragon.”
“Yes,” he said calmly. His eyes met hers.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a shifter?”
“I wanted you to accept me as Slyde Stone, not because I’m a Dragolin.”
“A Dragolin?” She blinked at him. “Huh. I wondered…but Stone—that’s not
your name.”
He shrugged. “My family uses the name of Stone in our public lives. We have business interests. It’s convenient to be simply Serpentian most of the time.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “If you’re a Dragolin, you’re wealthy,” she accused. “What are you doing working on a cruise ship?”
His cheeks reddened slightly. “Having an adventure. Searching for…what I want out of life.”
She snickered. “You certainly found adventure, didn’t you? Was it everything you’d hoped?”
He looked at her under his brows. “Parts of it have been.”
For the first time in years, she blushed. To cover it, she frowned at him.
“Those quarking serpents bit you too. Why are you not forced to lie here like a swaddling babe?”
He grinned, showing his teeth. “Because, unlike a mere slip of a female, there is a great deal of me. It requires more than a couple of snakes to take me down.”
Even though she knew she was being played, she went for it.
“Hah. Not my fault I can’t grow scales and breathe fire.”
He stuck the straw back in her mouth and, though she glared at him, she sucked thirstily.
“I don’t know,” he mused, his gaze caressing her face. “You may not have scales, but you can certainly ignite fire, siren.”
As weak as she was, desire curled through her at his intimate murmur.
“And don’t forget it, you big beast. I can take you down any time.”
He took the empty drink container away and brushed a tender kiss across her lips.
“You already have,” he whispered.
She was smiling as she slipped back into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-seven
By the next day, resting had lost much of its allure. Sirena wanted out of the bed and out of the infirmary. Tentaclar disagreed, and Captain Craig backed up his physician.
When Slyde sided with them, she pouted. “I’m a grown woman, and I’ve been in charge of myself for a long time. I know when I’m well enough to get out of this bed.”
“You are an impatient, headstrong warrior,” Slyde told her calmly, “who thinks she can inveigle me into countering her physician and her captain’s direct orders. Orders given, I might add, because they care about you.”