Pirate Bound: A Prequel (Telepathic Space Pirates)

by Carysa Locke

  Adopt…? You’re joking, right?

  Doc’s wife had been one of Matera-D’s first victims. They’d never had any children, and honestly, Dem had always assumed from his manner that Doc didn’t want them. He wasn’t exactly old at fifty-seven, but he’d shown no inclination to pursue any of the women they had left, though his position certainly gave him the right. That was presuming he could find one to put up with his moods.

  Adopt might not be the right word. But I’m certain he’ll be apprenticing the girl at the very least. He knows more about biokinesis than anyone else alive.

  How?

  Kirell was biokinetic. Though not, I understand, as powerful as this girl.

  Dem was shocked; he hadn’t known that. His memory of Doc’s wife was hazy at best. A gentle woman with a backbone of steel, she’d been a surgeon and a fairly powerful telekinetic. This was the first he’d heard of any biokinesis, however. The ability to manipulate the cells and molecules of the human body was one of the rarest Talents. On record, no one had been born with it in a number of decades.

  He’ll also make a formidable protector for her.

  Dem couldn’t argue with that.

  “This,” Cannon said aloud, “is our chief physician. We call him Doc.”

  Doc tore his gaze away from Nayla long enough to give Sanah a nod, then immediately frowned and bent to open his bag. “How long have you been on stimulants?”

  “Um…”

  “Don’t lie,” he snapped instantly. “I can’t effectively treat you, if I don’t know what I’m dealing with. Usotsuki ga daikirai yo.”

  “Ah…” Sanah eyed him, clearly not sure if she was supposed to understand that last part. “A little more than two days,” she said slowly, flushing when her sister turned and gaped at her.

  “Two days? Sanah—”

  “Please, Nayla. No lectures. I did what I had to.”

  “Of course,” Doc said sardonically as he stood up with a capsulet in his hand. “I’m sure you would still think that if you went into cardiac arrest, kidney failure, or fell into a coma as a result of what you had to do. Sit.”

  “I—”

  “Sit. Down.”

  Sanah sat.

  Dem was torn between irritation at Doc’s usual charming manner, and wanting to shake Sanah for taking so little care with herself. He frowned. What was wrong with him? His emotions hadn’t been so out of control since he’d completed his training as a Killer when he was fifteen.

  “You know,” Doc said conversationally as he grabbed her arm in a hold that made Sanah wince, shoving up her sleeve so he could jam the capsulet unceremoniously against her skin. “It isn’t just your body shutting down that you have to worry about. We used to hand stimulants out to our pilots, years ago. Until overuse started burning out their Talents. And I do mean burning out.” He glared at her as he let go of her arm, as though she’d deliberately tried to harm herself. “Now, where’s the patch?”

  Hesitantly, she rolled up the sleeve on her other arm, revealing the skin patch that released timed doses of stimulant into the bloodstream. She held her arm protectively away from him, ripping off the patch herself.

  Smart, Dem thought. He wouldn’t hand his arm to Doc, either. Not while he was in that mood.

  “I don’t normally use them,” Sanah murmured, a furrow between her brows and a mutinous line to her lips.

  “Good,” Doc said. “See that you don’t in the future.”

  “She was only protecting me!” Nayla glared at Doc, kneeling beside Sanah and anxiously running her hands over her. Dem expected the usual harsh rebuke from Doc, but to his surprise, the physician’s face softened.

  “Yes. That’s why I’m letting her off with a light warning. If I catch her doing it again, I’m afraid I’ll have to take more severe measures.”

  “Light warning—!” Nayla stood, but Sanah snagged her hand.

  “It’s all right. He’s right to reprimand me.”

  “That isn’t—”

  “Nayla. Let it go.”

  “I’m afraid a good bedside manner isn’t among my skills as a physician,” Doc said.

  Dem stared. It was the closest he’d ever heard to an apology pass the man’s lips.

  “I hope you won’t let that affect your decision to work with me.”

  “Work with you?” Nayla looked at Sanah, and then back at Doc. “You mean, in the infirmary? Helping people?”

  “If you like. It seems the natural place for someone with your Talent. My wife always felt biokinetics were drawn to places in the medical profession.”

  “Your wife?”

  “Yes. She’s been gone for several years, but I still remember a great deal about her Talent, which you may find useful. If you want to hear. Of course, you could choose to do something else, if you wish.” His tone was stiff, but Dem didn’t remember ever hearing Doc speak of his wife, not since her death.

  “She was biokinetic?”

  “Yes.”

  Nayla nodded, almost to herself, and Doc seemed satisfied with that. He looked at Cannon.

  “I’ll want to run a full physical for each of them as soon as possible. Both women are physically and emotionally fatigued. They can come to the infirmary after they’ve rested.” He glanced at Dem. “But don’t wait forever. You know how I hate having to chase people down.”

  Dem had a vivid flash of Doc dragging Leanne through the corridors by her long, black hair, the woman screaming and scratching at him the whole way. Of course, that was after she’d called him old and refused a routine physical on the grounds that he would use it as a stepping stone to rape.

  Dem couldn’t see either Sanah or Nayla doing anything of the kind.

  “I’ll make sure,” he said, and Doc left.

  “Well,” Cannon said, “are you ladies ready for your introduction to the Nemesis?”

  Chapter Five

  Sanah didn’t know what she expected. But walking out of the Viking and onto the enormous flight deck of the Nemesis was a completely overwhelming experience. A crowd had gathered, and the rush of emotion from so many stopped her dead.

  Up until that moment, she’d thought her shields were pretty good. Now, she found herself reeling, trying to shore up the most obvious holes in her protection, but completely unable to under the constant onslaught of curiosity, joy, aggression, relief, passion, lust, and a wholly unexpected thread of shock and violence.

  It took all of her will not to vomit.

  A hand touched her back, and the feelings and sensations faded. She sagged with relief, looking gratefully at Cannon. He shook his head, his dark eyes sympathetic. She realized she couldn’t actually feel the emotion from him, and the strange lack while still seeing it so plainly on his face gave her an odd jolt.

  He wasn’t just shielding her. Even with her shields functioning fully, faint emotional impressions often leaked through. Shielding was something designed to protect against telepathic assault, or prevent one’s own thoughts from projecting. People didn’t always realize it, but emotions and thoughts were not the same. They didn’t function the same way, and neither did the Talents associated with them. Shields did work against empathy to some degree, because empathy and telepathy were actually conjoined Talents, but it was far from a complete block. Every telepath had at least a tiny fraction of empathy, and every empath had at least a small amount of telepathy. It was just extremely rare to be someone like Sanah, for whom telepathy was very weak, and empathy was the very strong primary Talent.

  Sanah kept her statement telepathic. It was easy because he was physically touching her and already inside her shields. You’re an empath.

  Cannon smiled. Shh. I don’t advertise the fact. He paused. Sorry about that. I should have realized this lot would be waiting, ready to overwhelm you with their enthusiasm.

  Enthusiasm. Interesting word choice.

  You think?

  He looked beyond her, and she was taken aback to see that a fight had broken out, the scuffle between two me
n quickly widening to include several.

  I thought it appropriate, Cannon said dryly.

  Dem stepped in front of them, a clear physical barrier between their group and the ever-expanding brawl rapidly taking over the flight deck. Nayla ducked close to Sanah, looking shell shocked. Spending the last three years sequestered in a lab hadn’t really prepared her for something like this.

  “Why are they fighting?” she asked.

  “We tend to settle many of our disagreements a little more physically than the Commonwealth as a whole,” Cannon said before Sanah could offer up an explanation.

  “Oh.” Nayla craned her neck to try to see around Dem.

  As their group hurried off the flight deck, Sanah saw an enormous man with a carefully groomed black beard heft a tool of some kind and make his way over to the fray. He wore a heavy scowl.

  “Enough!” he yelled, but only a couple of people on the fringes listened. They stumbled back, extricating themselves with some difficulty. A second later, she understood why. Every single man involved in the fight was suddenly lifted off his feet and thrown backward—hard. They hit the deck with enough force to knock the wind from them, and probably leave bruises behind.

  Telekinesis. Very powerful telekinesis. The huge, bearded man glared around at all of them as they groaned and tried to get up.

  “No fighting on my fucking deck. Got it?” He slapped the tool into his free hand for extra emphasis. “Next man to throw a punch gets one of these to the head.”

  “Bruzer,” Dem said as their little group hustled onto the lift. His hand encircled Sanah’s arm, guiding her. “Deck chief on the Nemesis. Trust me; you don’t want to cross him.”

  She could well imagine.

  “Bruzer,” she repeated, and then slid a look at Cannon. “Cannon, Doc— interesting names some of you have.”

  “Our parents were cruel,” Cannon said, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. Then he grinned. “Actually, you’ll find nicknames quite common. Of the three you mention, only mine is actually a given name. My family has something of a propensity for ‘interesting’ names.”

  The lift doors closed, and she thought it smelled oddly of antiseptic. No one said anything until the doors opened again on a new level.

  Cannon stepped out first, and two men who looked like maintenance crew moved out of his way. They stood stiffly to one side, and Sanah wondered at the flash of apprehension from them.

  “I’ll leave you in Dem’s hands. We can talk in more detail after you’ve settled in.” With a nod, he moved off down the hall.

  “This way,” Dem said with a glance and a nod at the two crewmen. “I’ve had a room prepared. I assumed you’d feel more comfortable sharing quarters, for now?”

  “Safe assumption,” Sanah said.

  She’d never spent any significant amount of time in space, and as she looked at the walls around them, she wondered if the claustrophobic feeling would ever fade. The feeling wasn’t helped much by those they passed in the hall. All men, and all projecting waves of curiosity and an unabashed appraisal that made Sanah blush.

  “Is it always going to be like this?” she asked Dem quietly, moving closer to him.

  “To some degree, yes. I did warn you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Nayla said. “Like what?”

  Sanah spent the rest of the walk to their new quarters explaining to her about the virus, and the population problems resulting from it. Nayla’s eyes widened at the first mention; she glanced at Dem, but Sanah’s hand tightened warningly on hers.

  Sanah, she said privately, her telepathic voice hushed, you don’t think it’s the same virus, do you? Your virus?

  I think it would be incredibly naïve of me to believe it isn’t, Sanah said. It seemed impossible. All of her work had failed; she’d destroyed it, so there were no remaining samples. But she knew exactly what that virus was capable of. She knew of no other infectious agent in existence that would so precisely target the genome unique to female Talented. Of course, she’d built it to do something else entirely. Bitterness and fear swamped her, and she had to wrestle her own emotions back.

  Sanah, do you think we should tell them? Nayla radiated uncertainty and fear.

  Quiet. Do you want someone to overhear? Telepathy wasn’t exactly a strength for either of them.

  But—

  Later, Nayla.

  Two men stood outside the door Dem had finally stopped at. They were dressed in a uniform of some kind, all black, with dark red piping on their collars and sleeve cuffs. Dem turned to Sanah as he opened the door.

  “Your room will be guarded at all times. I take my promises seriously.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’ll find it furnished on a basic level, with a kitchenette and two small sleeping quarters.”

  “Don’t most military vessels run short on private cabins?”

  His smile was faint. “Private quarters for officers are standard, and a Monarch-class has more than a few of those. We’ve also made some modifications over the past two decades. We prefer a more comfortable environment than your military favored.” Nano-graph was easy to program and manipulate for small changes, but Sanah couldn’t imagine the effort that must have gone into changing the actual layout of the ship.

  As she moved past Dem to step into the room, he touched her hair, his fingers trailing over it until they brushed her shoulder. The icy cold of shock moved through her, her own and his, and for a moment, they both stood frozen. Hastily, Dem lowered his hand and stepped back.

  “I’ll check back in the morning,” he said evenly. “If you find you need anything in the meantime, don’t hesitate to ask either of them.” He jerked a thumb at the men beside the door, backing away even further, as though he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Oddly, she sensed no emotion from him at all, though both of the other men were radiating curiosity and surprise, though their demeanor betrayed nothing but professionalism.

  Nayla followed Sanah through the door, turning her head to watch Dem leave. She frowned. “That was odd.”

  Yes, it was. But Sanah didn’t reply to her sister’s comment. She wasn’t sure how to classify the instant of attraction she’d felt from Dem before he’d shut completely down. There was something compelling about him, but she’d never come across anyone so adept at hiding their emotions before. It was…odd.

  For just a moment, she thought of Rory, her one attempt at a real, lasting relationship. Her Talent had doomed it from the start. At first, it was exciting. Every emotion he had played between them, so the euphoria of new love colored everything. But it wasn’t long before the small irritations, the resentment he felt toward her long work hours, and the disappointment when she didn’t meet his expectations had begun to chip away at the relationship. Eventually, Sanah found being around him utterly exhausting. She had no choice but to end things, even if they hadn’t already been headed in that direction. The pain of that stayed with her for a long time.

  “Wow, check out this room!”

  Pulled from her reverie, Sanah stepped into the main room behind Nayla. ‘Furnished on a basic level’ didn’t exactly cover it. Certainly, nothing in these quarters had come from this ship.

  Everything was antique. From the small dining table set beside the kitchenette, to the plump couch and chair just inside the door. A bureau sat against one wall, of the same rich wood as the dining table, a deep purple with burgundy hues only found on one of the earliest colony worlds, Varga. No stain could emulate the depth and color of the natural wood, though many had tried. A bookshelf of the same wood stood in Sanah’s apartment back home, inherited from her parents. It was her favorite piece of furniture.

  “Wow.” Nayla ran her hand over the table. “You think all of their rooms are furnished like this?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” But she didn’t think so. What else had Dem glimpsed in her mind? “We should get some sleep. Real sleep, I mean.”

  Nayla was already moving into one of the sleepin
g quarters. Her squeal of delight had Sanah moving in that direction.

  She should have expected it, after the other furnishings. But only luxury liners provided passengers with what might be considered real beds. Instead of the usual thin bunk, this alcove was huge by ship standards, and equipped with a double-sized, plush bed that had to have come from a luxury liner. It looked so soft and inviting, and it was easily large enough to fit two people comfortably.

  Nayla threw herself into the alcove. She sank into the weight of bedding like a ship swallowed up by a cloud bank, laughing in delight as she threw out her arms.

  “No more bench, no more bruises!” She sat up, her hair mussed, and looked at Sanah. Her smile faded as she bit her lip. For a moment she looked like what she was—a frightened teenager, uncomfortable and unsure. She felt like it, too.

  “I bet we both have our own, but could we sleep together, just this once?”

  “Of course,” Sanah said. She went to sit beside her. The bed was as soft as it looked, supporting her weight and molding to fit her in a way that was both supportive and comforting. She leaned her head against Nayla’s and closed her eyes. They were together, safe, and she felt sure they were protected from Niall, at least for now.

  The two of them fell asleep with their hands still clasped together.

  Chapter Six

  Sanah.

  It took her a long time to drag herself awake. She wouldn’t have, if the voice hadn’t kept repeating her name. Sanah. Wake up, Sanah.

  She burrowed her face into her pillow, trying to ignore it and sink back into sleep. But the voice was persistent, and recognition finally burned away the lethargy of waking and had her sitting bolt upright in the bed.

  Niall.

  He was sitting beside her. On the bed, over the rumpled sheets where Nayla had lain. How was this possible? Sanah’s heart stuttered. For a few scattered seconds, she actually thought Niall was here, physically. And then she realized that couldn’t possibly be true, and like so many other times, he had simply pulled her into one of his telepathically constructed mental landscapes. The fact that it looked exactly like the room she was actually in just meant he’d pulled the image from her mind.