BloodWind

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "Bridget is perfectly— "

  "I want to speak to Bridget!" he yelled at her.

  "Fine!" the Director yelled back. "Computer! Get me Admiral Kahn!"

  Tylan Kahn motioned Bridget out of the range of the Vid-Com's screen when he learned his caller was Dr. Dean. "To what do I owe the honor, Madame Director?"

  "I apologize for the interruption, Admiral Kahn, but may I have just a moment of your time?"

  Tylan Kahn could see Cree seated in the Director's office. "How may I help you, Dr. Dean?"

  "As I'm sure you know, there was a commotion on Level Twelve this morning."

  "Aye. The Iceman made an ass of himself."

  Cree lunged from the couch, but Beryla put out a hand, warning him back. "No!"

  "He called me— "

  "Be quiet or I will terminate this conversation!" she warned. She pointed a rigid finger at the couch. "Sit down. Now!"

  Kahn grinned as Cree plopped back on the couch, snapped his mouth shut, and looked away from the camera. He was tempted to insult the man again— just to see what Cree would do— but thought better of it. "I assume he wants to speak to Bridie."

  "Bridie!" came a hiss of contempt from the couch.

  Dr. Dean turned and gave her companion another warning look before looking back at the Vid-Com. "Would it be too much of an imposition for you to allow him to do so, Sir? As you can see, Captain Cree— "

  "Lieutenant Cree," the Admiral corrected.

  "Go to hell. You are going to re-instate my rank you asshole!"

  The Director let out an annoyed breath. "Kamerone is quite upset about losing Dr. Dunne, Admiral. He has strongly objected to you purchasing Bridget."

  "I understand Commander Rhye objected, too, yet I seem to recall the Iceman made it impossible for him to speak to Bridie. Why should I allow him to do something he would not allow Konnor to do?"

  Cree was staring straight at the Vid-Com with a murderous look that told Tylan Kahn he would like to tear out his throat. The growl of hatred that passed over the link between them merely punctuated the thought.

  "We have assured Captain Cree— "

  "Lieutenant!" Kahn said again.

  Beryla rolled her eyes. "We can discuss this later. Will you allow him to speak with Bridget?"

  Kahn shrugged. "Given the circumstances, I suppose I can. Even though the Iceman refused Rhye, I won't since I am the better man."

  "You gods-be-damned Diabolusian wartslug!" Cree bellowed as he leapt from the couch. "You want to see which of us is the better man?"

  "Cree!" Dr. Dean roared. She hurried to the Reaper.

  Kahn could not hear what was being said in the Director's office, but from the mulish expression that was stamped over Cree's face, she must be getting her point across.

  "Aye, but that bastard is gloating and I will not..." he heard Cree thunder.

  "And I told you..."

  Kahn crossed his arms over his chest and watched mutinous emotion enveloping Cree. Finally, the Director gave the Reaper a stern shake, and then came back to the screen. "I am sorry you were insulted, Admiral. Kamerone has assured me he will behave."

  Tylan Kahn's left brow quirked. "I find that hard to believe." He looked away from the screen. "Bridie? Do you wish to speak to this ass?"

  "Cree— " Dr. Dean warned, not even bothering to look behind her.

  Bridget moved into camera range. "Kam?"

  "Aye, Bridget," Cree responded. He moved past the Director. "I am here." He let his hungry gaze pass over her worried face. "Are you well, milady?"

  "Yes," she said in a broken voice, her misery very real and lay bare for any and all to see.

  Cree saw the tears forming and felt like ripping the room apart in his fury. "Has he hurt you?"

  Bridget shook her head. "No. He's been very good to me."

  "Has he..." Cree could not ask. His attention shifted from his woman to the man standing too near to her. "Did he..." He swallowed. "I wanted to be sure he had not done anything to you," was all he could say.

  "What the hell are you implying, Cree?" Kahn snapped. "What was it you thought I would do?"

  "You know your reputation better than I do, Kahn," Cree shot back. Their eyes locked and he thought he could see a smirk in the Admiral's; it drove him absolutely insane. "If you have dared use my woman..."

  "Just what do you think you could do about it if I have?" Dr. Dean moved to grab Cree's arm and keep him from tearing out of her office. She shook him, spoke low and urgently to him in harsh, warning words.

  "Don't tell me what to do, bitch!" Cree shouted and then staggered beneath the blow the Director aimed at his cheek.

  "You stop this right now! Do you hear me, young man? Behaving like a spoiled child is not going to help! And don't you ever call me that vicious name again! Do you understand me, Kamerone?"

  No woman had ever dared raise a hand to him before today and now he'd been slapped twice in one afternoon. Cree was so infuriated, he didn't consider what he was doing. He lifted his right hand and swung it back over his shoulder with every intention of sending the woman reeling across the room.

  "You do and I swear to you, Kamerone Cree," the Director warned him, "I will have them come in here and take you to my lab and I promise you you'll be strapped to my therapy table for an entire month!" She came toe to toe with him. "Do you doubt I will?"

  Bridget had grabbed Tylan Kahn's arm in her fear for Beryla's safety. She could see the rage flashing in Cree's dark eyes. She stood rooted in place, holding her breath— as Kahn was doing— until Cree lowered his hand, backing down from the challenge the Director had thrown at him. "Do not ever hit me again," they heard Cree growl. "The next time you do, I will rip out your heart and eat it in front of you."

  Beryla pursed her lips. "No, you will not," she snapped then turned back to the screen. "Now that we have that settled, I am going to terminate this link."

  "No" Cree bellowed.

  "Beryla, don't!" Bridget cried. "Can't you see what you are doing to him?" Her tears were flowing unnoticed down her pale cheeks.

  "When he learns to do as he is told, I will contact you again. Terminate the link!" the Director snapped.

  "Bridget!" Cree's heart-breaking howl of pain made the hair stands up on the back of Beryla Dean's neck. She shuddered violently and backed away from the man who had dropped to his knees, pummeling the floor with his clenched fists. "I want my woman!"

  "You know what you have to do before that can happen," the Director reminded him. She almost had a heart attack as he shot to his feet, grabbed her, and shook her so hard her teeth clicked together.

  "No more!" he roared in her face. "No...more! Just give me the gods-be-damned list of the men you've already turned and let me get on with it!"

  Beryla jerked out of his grip. "You hurt me like that again and I swear I'll make you wish you'd never met me!"

  "I already wish I'd never met you," he said in a tone that relayed he was beyond controlling his temper and less and less inclined to do so.

  Rubbing her bruised arms, Beryla went to her safe and withdrew a sheaf of papers. She was about to hand them over when he snatched them out of her grip.

  Cree scanned the names on the sheet. "Drewe Lona! I should have known!" he memorized the names of the others, then crumpled the paper and threw it in the waste bin. "I'll need more muscle that just Tealson Hesar and a handful of Keepers!"

  "Recruit who you need; they'll follow you."

  "You'd better hope they will." He turned away. It was going to be a very dangerous thing trying to recruit competent men to help him sabotage the Empire.

  "There's one more thing," Dr. Dean said as she watched him rubbing his right temple. "You were inoculated, as was all but one of your crew. We couldn't find him, but we will. The other Reapers and their crews have been vaccinated as well."

  "Vaccinated for what?" he exploded, remembering his own inoculation.

  "It is too complicated to go into right. Can't you at least trust me on
this?"

  He snorted. "I would sooner trust a Diabolusian wharf rat than trust you!"

  "Will you listen?" she asked, exasperated. "I'm only telling you because the antitoxin has made your father very ill. He is..." She stopped and watched the stunned surprise take shape on Cree's face.

  He read it in her mind: what the Resistance had planned for the men of Rysalia. His lips parted in shock and he stared at her for a long time, before shaking his head in disgust. "You evil conniving bitches."

  Dr. Dean's chin came up. "We want our freedom. And we will get it!"

  He nodded. "Aye," he replied. "I believe you will." He turned to leave.

  "Cree!" she asked even though he didn't break his stride and never looked back. "Please be careful."

  "A little late to be worried about my welfare, isn't it?" He slammed the palm of his hand against the door pad. The panel shushed open and he was gone.

  BERYLA HURRIED into the isolation ward, her face ashen. "Where is he?"

  LeJong Kym was hovering over her patient as the Director barged in. The biochemist could not look at her. "He's had an adverse reaction to the vaccine, Beryla."

  "What went wrong?" the Director demanded as she bent over her unconscious lover.

  "I cannot say," LeJong admitted.

  The Director spun around and shoved the smaller woman. "What went wrong?"

  "None of the others have reported more than a simple headache and upset bellies."

  "I gave that stuff to Cree," cried Beryla. "Will it make him this ill?"

  LeJong shook her head. "His parasite will not allow him to have an adverse reaction to the antitoxin."

  "Kamerone must not become ill from this!" Beryla shouted.

  "He won't," LeJong stated firmly. "There may be some muscle aches. Nothing more."

  "I have a headache from hell. Does that constitute `nothing more'?"

  The Director flung her head around to find Cree leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his wide chest, watching her. He nodded toward the bed. "Is he going to be all right?"

  "Yes," Beryla snapped. She turned back to her lover.

  The Reaper looked at his father, glanced at LeJong, and read the truth in the Chrystallusian woman's mind before she blocked out his probing. LeJong flicked her gaze to him, stared into his demon orbs. He gave her a strange, penetrating look before he turned and walked away.

  Drae Cree was going to die, he thought as he strode briskly down the corridor. His father was going to die and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

  "HAVE YOU lost your mind?" Alexi Noll gasped.

  "I need you and my Keepers with me."

  "To do what? Hang alongside you? No, thank you!"

  "To fight alongside me, Alexi," Cree stressed. "Do you think I will lose?"

  "This is treason. You are talking treason here, Cree!"

  "We won't be alone. Every station has at least twenty Resistance fighters among the men there. They are waiting for FSK-14 to fall before they begin their own takeover." He locked his eyes with Noll's. "All it will take here is a handful of men who know just what to do; where to go; how to disable the communications, sabotage the energy plant and cripple the armaments."

  "Rysalia Prime will send— "

  "Think, Alexi!" Cree ordered. "The com-link will be down between here and there. They won't know what hit them. The planet gets its protection from the stations. There aren't even any weapons stored on Rysalia Prime. It is against Tribunal law!"

  "There are three long-range cruisers, two runabouts, and two transports, including the prison ship Vortex, sitting in our docking bays at this moment! What do you think the crews of those ships will be doing while the rest of the station is rebelling?" Noll challenged.

  "The warp engines are being disabled right now," Cree snapped with irritation. "Tealson Hesar is seeing to that."

  "The Simoom is due back any moment from FSK-5 Do you really think Captain Belial will sit idly by and— "

  "As soon as she is in harness, she'll be put off-line," Cree stated. "And Belial will do whatever the hell I tell him to do!"

  "You are mad."

  "Probably, but once the last station is under the control of the Resistance and we've taken Rysalia Prime, we'll go after the old men of the Tribunal and— "

  "You will go after them.

  Cree sighed. "You won't help?"

  "I can't," Noll said, pleading in his eyes. "I took an Oath to preserve the Empire." He looked accusingly at Cree. "Just as you did."

  The Reaper felt a moment's betrayal, but shrugged it away. "Do I have to worry about you going to the Tribunal?"

  Alexi Noll reacted as though he'd been slapped. "Don't ask such a thing!" he snapped. "You know better."

  "What about Belvoir and Arbra?" the Reaper asked, referring to the other two Keepers assigned to his ship, The Revenant.

  "I would imagine they'll do whatever you ask of them. You'll have to ask them. I can't be a part of this, Cree."

  "Then I wish you well, my friend." Cree hold out his hand. "You will take care?"

  Noll gripped the Reaper's forearm. "I hope you win, Cree. By the gods, I do." He held Cree's gaze. "And I will make myself scarce during the takeover. I'll not take sides against a man I admire."

  Cree smiled. "That's all I wanted to hear." He released Noll's arm. "By the way, were you given an injection earlier?" At Noll's nod, Cree breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. It may make you a little ill. I've got a bitch of a headache."

  "What was it for?" Noll questioned.

  Cree shrugged. "Let's just say you'll be happy you got it once this is over."

  BRIDGET LOOKED up as the lights went off in Kahn's quarters. "They've hit the generator."

  "It appears so," Kahn was able to say before once more he bent over his bed and threw up into the basin Bridget was holding for him.

  "If you'll just take the tenerse, you won't have to suffer this pain, Tylan," she said with exasperation.

  "I am not going to take that crap!"

  "No, you'd rather lie there and suffer."

  An explosion ripped through the walls, shaking the room, and Kahn's groan of pain punctuated the bright flare that lit the room.

  "Armaments," Bridget said needlessly. She set the basin of noxious fluid on the floor beside his bed and walked into the living area. Beyond the port windows, the heavens lit momentarily in silent explosions all across the velvet darkness. A grim smile tugged at her lips.

  Cree had begun his war with the Empire.

  FOR MORE than two hours, the women of the Resistance joined their handful of male counterparts in sabotaging and bringing to a standstill Frontier Station Khamsin-14. Outnumbering the men by four to one, the women fought as hard as the men and some died just as valiantly for the cause in which they believed.

  From the Vid-Com screen in her tightly locked quarters in the Ministry of Science, Hael Sejm viewed the destruction of FSK-14 with grim satisfaction. The station had been seriously crippled and it was only a matter of time before every man outside the influence of the Resistance would be breathing his last.

  "Where are you, Cree?" Sejm muttered as she switched from one monitor to another in search of her hated nephew.

  It greatly angered Hael that LeJong had not inoculated Cree with the same virus that had only moments before taken the life of Drae Cree. Now, the younger of Sejm's targets would have to be dealt with in the same manner as the other Reapers. Though knowing what fate lay in store for Kullen, Coure, and the rest of his jackal brethren, Hael would rather have seen Cree perish in the agony that had claimed his father.

  "But you will die, Kamerone Cree," Sejm promised as she turned her glazed stare to a monitor where one of Symthian Kullen's crew was defending himself against a Resistance fighter. She leaned toward the monitor and smiled. Even one woman's death was unacceptable and the sight sickened her, but the Keeper who had driven his sword into the unknown woman's belly was not to be harmed. Orders had been given to bring him to Sejm as s
oon as he was found.

  She sat back in her chair. "Cree will die screaming in agony, but you?" She watched the Keeper glance up at the camera that monitored every corridor aboard FSK-14. When he saluted his watcher with his laser sword, Hael Sejm grinned. "You, little one, will live."

  KONNOR RHYE looked away from the camera. He knew someone, somewhere was watching him and he hoped it was a member of the Tribunal who had taken note that Commander Rhye was not a part of this insane rebellion. He grinned, glanced at the woman who was kneeling on the floor, steaming innards spilling out of her abdominal cavity.

  "F...finish it!" the woman pleaded.

  "With pleasure," Konnor agreed. With one practiced snap of his wrist, he beheaded her. His smile grew as the woman's head rolled down the corridor and stopped almost at Deon Inse's feet.

  "Careful where you throw your toys, Koni," Inse chuckled.

  "How are the upper levels?"

  "Still ours," Inse reported. "As soon as we get the generator back online, we should make quick work of these traitors."

  Konnor nodded. "Aye, and when I find Kamerone Cree, I'll make quick work of him, as well."

  Inse smiled. "Would you care to know where our glorious leader is at the moment?"

  The Keeper's face hardened. "You've found him? Where is the bastard?"

  Jerking his thumb toward the elevator banks, Inse snorted in response. "Trying to make his way to his woman," he reported. "Where else?"

  "My woman!" Konnor corrected. He grabbed the front of Inse's uniform. "Where? Show me!"

  Overhead, the lights flickered back on, went off, and then came on again full force. Scattered along the walls, the emergency globes of phospho light that had given off only enough feeble light to keep the station from being plunged into total stygian darkness, faded away.

  "Show me!" Konnor repeated.

  Inse nodded. "It will be my honor."

  THE RETROVIRUS Hael Sejm had created in her lab had been placed in the ventilation system of all fifteen space stations' months in advance of that night. A complex system of relay switches designed by Dr. Aurora Burds of Terra's MIT had been installed in the base of one hundred and eighty stainless steel cylinders that contained the virus: one cylinder for each of the twelve floors of each station. Well hidden in the ductwork, the canisters sat waiting for the signal that would engage its deadly payload.