Pirate Bound: A Prequel (Telepathic Space Pirates)

by Carysa Locke

  “I hadn’t considered that,” she said, tugging at her hair in a clearly unconscious gesture of frustration. “Why didn’t I think of that? He’ll be able to find us no matter where we go.” Her voice held such a depth of despair that Dem was moved to try to comfort her.

  “Listen to me.” He took her hand between his own. “This is the safest place for you and Nayla. Your brother may be powerful, but I guarantee you that no single telepath, no matter how powerful, could possibly win against us all. Not even Treon, and he’s the highest level telepath ever recorded.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

  Dem wasn’t good at jokes, or at making people laugh, but that last did earn him a weak smile from Sanah. He tightened his hold on her hand, careful not to use his considerable strength. It felt…odd, touching someone like this. Physical contact for Dem usually meant either violence or sex. This was something different, and he found it touched him on a profoundly deep level. There was no fear in her eyes, only trust. And he wasn’t used to that either. He dropped her hand and stepped away, putting some space between them before he’d consciously decided to do so.

  Something like disappointment flashed in her eyes. Dem ignored it.

  “Why don’t I show you around the ship?” he suggested. “You worked as a scientist, in your old life. I can show you our facilities and introduce you to our people. We can go by the infirmary. Doc will want to see you, and you can look in on Nayla.” For a second, he thought, This is what babbling sounds like. Thankfully, Treon wasn’t there to witness it.

  “All right,” Sanah said, her voice subdued. “What about Niall?”

  “I’ve passed on what you told me to both Treon and Cannon. The next time your brother tries to pull you into a telepathic landscape, we’ll be waiting.”

  Dem wanted Sanah to feel comfortable with her surroundings, so he started with the basics. He showed her the gym, the galley, the bar, and then took her to where her interests would be most aligned, the lab facilities. He could tell the quality of their equipment surprised her. She stopped beside their cloning module, running her fingers reverently along the top of it.

  “I never thought I would see one of these again, much less get to work with one.”

  “It’s the centerpiece of much of our research,” said a new voice.

  Dem had tracked his approach. He wasn’t surprised to turn and see a man wearing a white lab coat, the universally recognized, sterile uniform of scientists and doctors everywhere. He stood at a polite distance.

  “I couldn’t do my work without it.” Tall and lean, with a tousle of black hair, dark skin, and brown eyes that sparked with interest, Mahesh was not unhandsome. He smiled at Sanah. Stepping closer to her, he took her hand warmly between his in greeting.

  Something went through Dem like a current of electricity, a feeling he couldn’t identify, that jolted his nerves like adrenaline and hazed his mind. It was gone less than a second later, washed away by a familiar quiet that left empty detachment in its wake. Cold and still, Dem watched Sanah laugh at something Mahesh said, and he felt nothing.

  The two scientists quickly fell into an easy conversation, Sanah asking questions about how cloning fit into Mahesh’s research, he more than willing to answer them to a level of detail that would have bored most people. Dem wasn’t bored. He passed the time mapping out all the ways he could kill Mahesh, should he pose a threat to Sanah, and timed each of them. The other man’s shields were impressive enough that a mental assault would most likely be less efficient than a physical attack by four-point-six seconds. Which meant Mahesh would die from a broken neck.

  He had just concluded this when the other man glanced over at him, the conversation having taken a turn toward secrets Sanah didn’t yet know. Mahesh was looking for permission to delve lightly into those secrets, but instead what he saw in Dem froze him where he stood. His skin took on an ashen pallor, and he backed slowly away from Sanah.

  “I-I’m sorry. Work, you know. I have work to get back to. Very important.” When he backed into a table, jostling the contents and knocking a container to the floor, he turned and hurried from the room without bothering to pick it up.

  Sanah watched this with confusion furrowing her brow.

  “That was odd,” she said, stepping forward to pick up the fallen container herself. She placed it back onto the table. “He didn’t seem like the skittish type.” Turning toward Dem as she spoke, she went silent and still. Seconds passed while she stood and said nothing, carefully watching Dem.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. I won’t hurt you.

  But he lied. He could kill her with a thought between one breath and the next.

  “I’m not afraid,” she said, her voice steady. “You promised you would protect me.”

  Yes, he had. He remembered his promise.

  She took a step toward him, and then another. He did not move, just watched as she approached him, watched as she extended a hand and carefully, deliberately curled her fingers around his. The touch sent another of those electric shocks through him. This time, the nameless emotion broke through the icy calm of the killer within, suffusing him with warmth.

  His fingers closed convulsively around hers, tighter than he meant them to. She gasped, and he instantly released her.

  “Sanah…”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said. “I’m not sure what just happened here, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Yes. Yes, he had. He’d allowed the most dangerous part of himself loose in her presence, without any tangible reason. Mahesh was no threat. If necessary, Dem could subdue him without resorting to either of his more deadly Talents. Something had happened to trigger the lethal side of his nature, and Dem did not understand what it had been.

  He didn’t lose control like that. Not since he was a child, and his father was constantly testing the instincts of the Hunter and the Killer, testing Dem’s control of them. Something was very wrong, and until he knew what it was, Dem needed to get far away from Sanah.

  He sent for one of his dogs.

  “Dem? Are you all right?”

  The irony that she would be concerned about him was not lost on him.

  “You should go to the infirmary,” he said. “Doc is expecting you, as is your sister.”

  “But—”

  The door opened, and Blaine stepped in.

  You will take her to the infirmary, Dem told him, and then escort her back to her quarters. Contact me when that occurs.

  Yes, sir.

  Dem did not look at Sanah again. Not even when she called his name and moved to intercept him as he strode out the door. Dem trusted Blaine to handle it, and indeed, he heard the irritation in Sanah’s voice as the door closed behind him. “What are you doing? Get out of my way.”

  What the hell just happened? Dem was not surprised by Cannon’s sudden contact. Very little happened on this ship that the pirate king was not aware of.

  I don’t know. How could Dem explain it, when he himself didn’t understand?

  Are you an immediate threat to anyone?

  No. Not unless he was around Sanah. He would have to figure this out before he allowed that to happen again.

  Are you sure? Cannon did not sound convinced. Because I don’t think we’ve ever had a Killer experience jealousy before. I’m not sure what that will look like, but it can’t be good.

  Dem stopped dead in the middle of the corridor. Jealousy?

  Yeah, you know, that feeling that made you want to rip out Mahesh’s spine?

  No. Killers do not feel. I am not jealous.

  Okay, so here’s where I tell you not to argue with the empath. You are jealous. And you better deal with it before someone dies.

  Chapter Eight

  Sanah gave up trying to get answers out of her taciturn escort halfway to the infirmary. She might as well have addressed her questions to the bulkhead, for all the attention he paid them. He wore the same red-on-black uniform Haggerty and her door guards had, so
she assumed the fit young man with dark skin, startling green eyes, and a stoic, blank expression was one of Dem’s dogs. He certainly seemed practiced at giving nothing away, not from speaking, body language, or facial expression. He also outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, so she wasn’t going to be able to physically get around him.

  She switched tactics, and tried asking him personal questions. “Will you tell me your name, at least?”

  He glanced at her, but she couldn’t tell whether he was startled, suspicious, or just doing her the courtesy of eye contact. Just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he spoke.

  “Blaine.”

  “How long have you served with Dem?”

  “Two standard years.”

  She judged his age to be about twenty-five. All the dogs seemed to be in their twenties or thirties. “Is that a long time? For a dog, I mean?” It seemed odd to call him that, but he didn’t seem offended. He shrugged, watching the people passing them as they moved down the hall.

  “No. Most dogs serve five-to-seven years before being promoted out.”

  “Promoted out?”

  “Yes.” He made no attempt to answer her implied question. She sighed inwardly and cracked open her shields, just a tiny bit.

  “What’s wrong with Dem?” she asked.

  Blaine didn’t flinch. On the outside, his demeanor didn’t change in the slightest, no hint of expression crossing his face. On the inside, he was worried and confused.

  “This kind of thing doesn’t happen often,” Sanah said.

  He glanced at her, saying nothing.

  “It must be something new. Something to do with Mahesh, maybe.” She waited, feeling the same worry from him, but nothing else. “Of course, Mahesh isn’t anything new, is he? But I am. So, I must be the key.”

  The worry intensified, accompanied by suspicion as the brow above those green eyes furrowed. She was willing to bet he was fortifying his shields this very second. But most people didn’t know how, or they didn’t think to shield against empathy. Sanah gave him her most disarming smile.

  “Just thinking out loud,” she said. “You see, I thought for sure I felt something from Dem right before things went strange. But I never pick anything up from him, so I second-guessed myself. I shouldn’t have.”

  Blaine said nothing, his stride picking back up with new determination. But he radiated curiosity. Sanah had to duck her head to hide a smile. Maybe she wasn’t quite as confident as she had sounded, but she did believe she knew the basics of what had happened with Dem. Blaine clearly wanted to ask about it in the worst way, but his professionalism, or stoicism, or whatever orders kept him from really answering her questions, prevented him.

  They finished the walk in silence, much to Sanah’s amusement. At the end, she took pity on him.

  “Dem is fine. I don’t think you need to worry about him,” she told Blaine in a low voice. He wasn’t convinced. The look he gave her was bland, but the emotions inside him were anything but. The worry was still there, tinged with enough fear that Sanah found it concerning. It seemed like an extreme reaction to a little jealousy. Sure, maybe Dem didn’t know how to handle it, but Sanah was an empath. Helping people deal with emotions was part of what she did.

  Blaine didn’t say anything to her, but his eyes met Haggerty’s as soon as they walked into the infirmary. The man Dem had sent to guard Nayla was standing against the wall just inside the door, out of the way, but clearly not going anywhere. Sanah was sure a telepathic conversation was taking place between the two ‘dogs’. Especially when she felt a familiar spike of worry mixed with fear from Haggerty. Less of the fear, she noticed, finding that interesting.

  Before she could investigate further, a burst of amusement from Nayla pulled at her attention. Her sister was standing beside one of the exam tables, looking at a young man’s arm. He looked familiar, and then Sanah realized why. It was the man from the dropship, the one who had projected himself aboard. What had Dem called him? Phantom.

  Nayla laughed and shook her head at him as she dropped his arm.

  “It’s just a bruise, not a break. I could fix it for you if—”

  “Absolutely not.” Doc’s voice was glacial, his dark eyes bright with anger as he crossed the room. “Manipulating cells with your mind is not a game.” He bore down on Phantom with such an aggressive stance that the young man shrank away from him, pulling his arm tight against his body as if he feared what Doc might do to it.

  With good reason, Sanah thought. She could feel the doctor’s outrage and disgust, as well as Phantom’s sudden alarm. From Nayla, Sanah sensed confusion, discomfort, and a desire to help.

  “But Doc—” Nayla began.

  “Iie. No.” Doc cut his eyes to her briefly, just long enough to make the finality of the word clear, and then his attention was back on Phantom. “And you. Did you seriously come to my infirmary for a bruised arm? How strange, since I can remember having to track you down just last year to treat a concussion. I distinctly recall you telling me, ‘But Doc, it’s only a bruise’, while you couldn’t walk a straight line.”

  “See, and that’s why I’m here,” Phantom quickly said. The young man grabbed at the excuse like a lifeline. “I learned my lesson, Doc. Figured I should come get it checked out, in case it was more serious.”

  “Hmm.” Doc studied Phantom for an endless moment, while Sanah was sure the young man held his breath. “You can see why I might find the timing suspicious, particularly given the influx of minor injuries that have graced my door since Nayla joined me today.”

  Phantom’s face lost some color, but perhaps wisely, he said nothing.

  “Sanah,” Doc said abruptly, “what do you think? Is he telling the truth?”

  Startled at suddenly being included in the conversation, Sanah wasn’t sure what to say. Until she saw the pleading look her sister sent her behind Doc’s back. She hesitated; lying wasn’t something that came easily to her.

  Please. Sanah couldn’t ignore that tone in her sister’s mental voice. Not when she had spent so long ignoring what Niall had put her through.

  “He might be,” she temporized, coming forward. “He does feel anxious to appease you.”

  Doc shot her an unreadable look, and Sanah nearly held her own breath. Having been on the receiving end of his displeasure once, she wasn’t anxious to repeat the experience. But he looked back at Phantom a moment later and just shook his head.

  “Fine.” He took a step back. “Get out before I change my mind.”

  Phantom scrambled off the table and away from Doc. He waited until he was halfway to the hatch before he glanced back. It was just a quick look, directed toward Nayla, but Sanah caught it, and so did Doc.

  “Dete ike! Out!”

  Phantom was gone an instant later. Sanah saw Nayla hide a grin and could feel her sister’s laughter, even if she didn’t express it out loud. For a moment, her heart contracted. This was exactly the type of thing Nayla should have spent the past three years doing. Having fun, flirting, skirting around adult rules, and making friends. Niall had stolen that from her, and Sanah let him.

  Stop it. She looked up to find all traces of amusement gone from her sister. You have to stop blaming yourself for what he did. You didn’t help him, Sanah. And you didn’t know. I never told you.

  Are you sure you aren’t an empath, too?

  I’ve just learned to recognize that look on your face. You wear it whenever you start to feel guilty about me. Stop doing that to yourself. You saved me. Don’t think I will ever forget that.

  Doc saved Sanah from having to reply by taking her arm and urging her over to a full-body scanner.

  “Now, since you’re here,” he said, “we might as well get your physical out of the way. Nayla, let’s see what you can read that this machine misses. Or vice versa.”

  The next hour passed quickly. Sanah was weighed, measured, blood and genetic samples taken, and scanned twice, both by the scanner and her sister, and the notes from each
compared by Doc, who had an unreadable expression. Everything about his appearance was carefully controlled. His short, black hair was now neatly combed and styled. The white lab coat he wore was unnaturally rigid and devoid of wrinkles. Even his emotions were kept under tight control, but Sanah sensed the tiny trace of pride and pleasure that leaked past his shields. Nayla, she assumed, had done well, even though Doc showed her the scan from the machine and pointed out several things Nayla had missed.

  “You can’t just think in terms of injuries or direct cell damage or deterioration. This is why knowledge in anatomy and physiology are so important.”

  She’d been given training in both from Niall, but not with the intent to heal. Only with the intent to use her gifts to kill. Sanah noticed that Nayla did not volunteer this to Doc.

  Looking around almost idly while they discussed the scans, Sanah noticed a shelf along one wall that held several stasis fields with what looked like sample containers suspended in them. Each container held some kind of dried, leafy herb or ground powder, carefully labeled with characters she didn’t recognize, in what was clearly a cataloging system. Medicine? Herbal treatments of some kind? So many substances could be synthesized or duplicated in a lab; it was rare to find a collection of original plant material.

  “You’ve never had children.”

  The statement drew Sanah out of her place of passive observation. “Er…no.”

  Doc nodded and made some kind of notation on his datapad.

  “We should discuss whether you’d be willing to donate genetic material to our research team. Of the women who survived Matera-D, approximately half were left barren. We have a method of reversing this state that involves using genetic material from viable, Talented women to rewrite their DNA, and, in effect, grow these women new ovaries.”

  Sanah raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t overly surprised. It was a fairly standard treatment for infertility. The important part had to be the bit about Talented women. Presumably, it was necessary to use their genetic material to ensure Talent passed to the next generation. “I’ll definitely consider it,” she said. “I’d like to read about what you’re doing in more detail, or even visit the research labs, if that’s possible.”