by S. L. Viehl
The Terran woman seemed to have a calming effect on the Ninrana, who fixed his gaze on her lovely face and golden hair. “You are good to remind us of this, yahleha.”
Burn kept close watch on the monitor, and input the code that would allow him immediate access to the summit chamber. On screen the administrator looked very pale and was staring back at Urloy-ka as if he’d just threatened her life. Only when the Ninrana delegate removed his empty hand from his robe did Burn disengage the emergency override.
“Again, forgive the intrusion.” Ana inclined her head toward Urloy-ka and then to each of the delegates before silently moving back out to the observation chamber.
Burn moved to Ana’s side. “You look ill.”
“I’m a little nauseated. Too much coffee, not enough sleep.” She gave him a wan smile. “Sublieutenant, please ask your people to keep the Ninrana delegation under close watch until I can sort out what to do about the weapons they’ve smuggled on board.”
“You think they are carrying them, then?”
“No.” She glanced at Urloy-ka. “I know they are.”
CHAPTER 11
“Let me talk to my hardware experts,” Norash told Ana Hansen. “If there’s a security scanner that can pick up bone shapes, we’ll deliver one to you in orbit.”
“Bone shapes . . . of course.” Ana felt like slapping herself in the head. “I’ll ask Dr. Mayer to lend us a handheld medical bone scanner. We can use that to detect the weapons the Ninrana are carrying.”
“Don’t approach them about this until I can send up more security teams to assist with the searches,” Norash warned. “I don’t want you trying to disarm these people by yourself.”
“Acknowledged. I’ll send update reports as things progress. Hansen out.” Ana ended the relay and sent a new signal to the colony FreeClinic.
Luckily the chief of medical services was in his office for once. “William Mayer.”
She took a moment to enjoy his image. “Can I borrow a bone scanner, and a very large vial of painkillers?”
He peered at the screen. “Do you have a broken arm, or a headache?”
“No broken bones. I had a headache. Now I believe it’s blossoming into the dimensions of a supermigraine.” Ana explained the need for the bone scanner, adding, “I’d like to keep one up here on the ship if you can spare it for a week. I may be able to disarm them during a search, but they may have hidden other weapons around the ship.”
“We had some extra units come in for the Bio Rescue ships,” he said. “You can use one of those for as long as you like. Now, what about this migraine?”
“Not as easily curable, but it’s my own fault.” She slid a hand under her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. “I know better than to stand in a room filled with angry and imaginative beings.”
“Imaginative?”
“Empaths sometimes pick up more than impressions, particularly when emotions are running high. Take the Ylydii ambassador, for example—when Carada wasn’t thinking about releasing the air lock into space, she was wondering how much effort it would take to force Nathaka to have sex with her.”
“A lot,” Liam said. “’Zangian males are very strong, and have more teeth than the Ylydii.”
“I know. While Carada was thinking all that, Nathaka was fantasizing on where he could bite Carada to keep her away from him. Evidently he picked up on her attraction.”
His lips quirked. “So much for it being mutual.”
“I prefer all that to what I picked up from the other two. Bataran was muttering passages from the Scroll of the Promise, so I tapped his mind and found out why he was doing it. To keep himself from ripping out Urloy-ka’s throat.”
“No love lost there.”
“No love, period. Meanwhile, Urloy-ka was . . .”
She trailed off as she remembered how dark and disturbing the Ninrana’s thoughts had been, particularly when he had focused on her. Sex and death excited him equally, and both featured prominently in his private fantasies.
When he had thanked Ana, he hadn’t been thinking of gratitude. He had been studying her hair—there were no blondes on Ninra—and wondering how it would feel in his hands. He also imagined it stained with her blood. His fantasy had been so lucid that Ana had nearly thrown up on him.
“Counting the ways in which he could gut Bataran?” Liam guessed.
“Yes,” she lied. “The delegates were all tired and hungry, too, which didn’t help.” She propped her throbbing forehead against her hand.
“You need some physiotherapy.” He looked away from the screen and nodded to someone who handed him a chart. “Excuse me for a moment.”
Ana watched his frown form as he skimmed the data. “I’d better let you get back to work. If you could send up the bone scanner today—”
“I will, but don’t close the channel yet.” Liam copied the chart’s data chip. “I’m sending this to you for your review. The short version is, one of the newly transferred forensic technicians down in Pathology—I can’t think of his name, but he’s Omorr—performed an inspection of the quarantined mercenary ships. He found traces of a slow-acting neurotoxin in samples taken from the water and food stores.” He looked up at her. “You did right sending him in, but what made you suspicious? Was it something with the original autopsy findings?”
“Liam, I didn’t send anyone to inspect those ships.” Ana thought of her new assistant, who according to rumor had been seeing an Omorr during her off-duty hours. Emily, what are you up to now? “I think I know who did. In any case, what does this boil down to? Are you saying that the mercenaries didn’t die from pressure sickness during the battle?”
“No. They were poisoned. Long before they attacked the Ylydii.” He pulled up a file on his data terminal. “The only recorded cases involving poisoning by this particular neurotoxin involve detained drug couriers. Their suppliers often poison them before they transport shipments. If they deliver, the counteragent is given to them and they live. If they’re arrested and detained, they die before they can give any information to the authorities.”
She tried to fit what he was telling her into the scenario with the mercenaries. “We know someone hired these men to attack the Ylydii. Maybe the poison was administered for the same reasons: to control them, or kill them if they were captured.”
“There aren’t too many sources for this particular neurotoxin, and what’s available is extremely expensive. Norash may be able to track down who used it by following the credit trail.” Liam copied the chart. “I’m sending you a file copy of the report. I’d distribute it among the delegates and see if they have any enemies who might resort to such tactics.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a wise idea. All four of the delegates are extremely agitated and unhappy; what little progress we’re making here doesn’t suit any of them. They might use this as an excuse to begin hurling blame or suspicions at each other.”
“That will have to be your call. I’m going to have Burn and his men discreetly check your prep units and ship’s stores, and assure that no one has tampered with those.” Liam reached out and touched his screen. “I miss you, Ana.”
She reached out and matched his fingertips with her own. “I’m sorry this is taking so long. When it’s over we’ll go somewhere quiet and beautiful and not inhabited by anything with a brain stem.”
His expression became stern. “Rushing off to snatch a couple of days by ourselves, knowing the entire time we’re gone our respective workplaces will descend into utter chaos? Then to return and field hundreds of complaints while we kill ourselves putting it all back in order? A vacation’s just not worth it, Ana.”
Disappointment made her lift her hands. “Well, then, I’m open for suggestions. You name it, I’ll try it.”
“We’ll have to have the ceremony first, so we can make it public and official. That way there is a slim chance—very slim—that everyone will be on their best behavior. If not, when we return from the honeymoon, we’ll
remind them that we’re newlyweds and they’ll feel too sentimental to complain much.”
“Honeymoon . . . newlyweds . . .” She was on the verge of stuttering. “Liam, are you asking me to—”
“Marry me. Say yes, Ana.”
Her Grace, Lady Carada, the ambassador of Ylyd will see you now, Miglan said to Burn. Although he was smaller than most of the youngest pups in Burn’s pod, the diminutive Ylydii male managed to look down his snout at him.
Do your kind bite each other when you fight over a female? Burn asked him idly.
Males do not have to fight over females on Ylyd, Miglan informed him smugly. They fight over us.
Burn inspected him from gillets to flukes. Oh, I get it. They fight, and the loser has to breed with you. While Miglan sputtered, he swam past and entered the ambassador’s private chamber.
Carada was in the process of being groomed by another little male, a process which required him to delicately pick off dirt and pieces of loose hide with his teeth. Seeing another male reduced to the level of a cleaner fish had shocked Burn at first, but he had been called to the ambassador’s chamber several times now, and she liked being groomed. Now he turned his gaze to a spot on the tank wall and waited in silence.
So, the psychopath can behave like a well-mannered being on occasion. I am astonished and pleased.
Carada dismissed her hide-cleaner and swam a circle around Burn. You are learning, ’Zangian. Perhaps someday soon I will allow you to groom me.
Not as long as I breathe, Burn muttered.
What did you say? The ambassador came around and assumed her favorite position when he reported, which was hovering an inch from his face.
He schooled his expression to blankness. I said, I am glad you are pleased, Lady Ambassador.
Are you? She treated him to a long, skeptical look before continuing. There were problems reported to me today by various members of my staff. You will attend to these immediately and assure that they do not happen again.
Carada began to recite a list of complaints ranging from ’Zangian guards who had interrupted an Ylydii female while she was speaking to a demand by the male members of her entourage that the aquatic soldiers not feed in the same area with them.
Burn made one halfhearted attempt to reason with her. We do have to feed, Lady Ambassador.
Our males are quite intimidated by your men, Carada said. They cannot compete with them for the food released. You will refrain from feeding until they are through.
In other words, starve. The little Ylydii males were greedy, and could clear out a feeding area within a few minutes. He’d have to talk to Ana about getting more supplies from the surface, and maybe having a separate tank designated for their meals.
Burn pretended to listen to the rest of Carada’s demands and complaints as his gaze drifted around the tank. He thought he could taste Liana on the water, but she wasn’t here.
He had caught several glimpses of Liana since coming on board, but had not yet found an opportunity to speak with her or be alone with her. It didn’t help that she was always escorted, either by her female attendant or by a skinny, wall-eyed male who liked putting his fins on her whenever he thought no one was looking.
Whenever he did see Liana, she didn’t act as she had when he’d taken the ship back from the mercenaries. In fact, if he didn’t know her taste and her colors, he’d swear she was another female altogether. This Liana was silent and thinner, her eyes dull and her manner completely cowed, as if she feared everything around her.
Liana had been afraid during the battle, but not like this. What was wrong with her?
Well, ’Zangian? Carada was asking him. Will you give me your assurance that these matters will be dealt with swiftly?
Of course, Lady Ambassador. He had no idea what they were, but he’d get the complaint list from Ana Hansen later. Carada always sent the administrator a copy. I’ll see to it personally.
Excellent. You may go.
Burn left Carada’s chamber so fast he left Miglan tumbling in his wake. He ignored the Ylydii’s indignant yelp and moved out to the corridor, where he stopped to taste the current. Liana left a very faint but distinct signature in the current, and he had tracked her before by following it when it was strong enough.
There it is.
Burn rolled the essence of her over his tongue. This time it was much stronger—that or he was becoming sensitive to it—and more than enough for him to track. He shot off down the corridor.
Burn knew he couldn’t have tracked Carada like this, and he had spent much more time in her vicinity than Liana’s. It might be because Carada was older, or Liana was preparing to go into season. The thought of her wandering the ship while in estrus made his hide prickle all over. There were fifty young, very fit ’Zangian males on board guarding the delegates and their people. If they picked up the taste of her and decided she was ready to mate . . . he really didn’t want to think about the consequences.
Liana’s track led Burn to an unoccupied chamber that he swam around twice before stopping and drawing the water there through his gillets. She had either just been in this area, or spent a great deal of time here; the taste of her was all around him.
Where are you? Since he was alone, he said it out loud.
A bumping sound made him look down to the makeup hatch for the tank’s liquid atmosphere. There, just beneath the grid, a pair of very black eyes stared up at him before moving past him and narrowing.
Behind him came the sound of the tank hatch opening.
Pretend I’m not here, Liana said before she disappeared.
Lady Liana?
The skinny male with the bulging eyes who had been skulking around Liana entered the chamber. He regarded Burn with his thin lips pulled back in a snarl of dislike. What are you doing here? This is not an approved area for guards. I will report you to the ambassador at once.
Burn turned away from the hatch and blocked the sight of it with his body. You’ll do what now?
You’re not supposed to be here, and I have to report you. When Burn edged closer, the small Ylydii flared out his fins. Abbreviated veils with muddy coloration flared like stumpy flags. Get away from me, you brute.
Burn caught the glitter of tiny barbs among the veils and showed his amusement. Or you’ll what? Scratch me to death? What is your name?
I am Fokrej, valet to the Lady Liana. Not that you may address me, ’Zangian. I am—
Boring me into a coma.
The little male drew back in the exact same way Burn’s mother did when she was highly offended. Which was pretty much every other hour of the day. You will be punished for this, Fokrej promised. I will see to it.
I am using this space, and Liana is not in this tank.
Burn surged forward, crowding the other male toward the hatch. Go flash your infant spines somewhere else.
Fokrej’s flukes hit the hatch and he scrambled to open it. Ambassador Carada will hear about your insults to me. She will have you severely punished.
I’m terrified, Burn assured him as he covered the male’s face with his fin and shoved him out into the corridor.
Once the hatch was secured, Burn swam back to the grid. He wrenched off the alloy lattice and reached in until he felt warm, smooth hide.
Liana gripped his arm tightly. Pull me through.
He eased her out of the conduit, through the hatch and into the tank. She was covered with bits of food and dirt. What were you doing down in there?
Hiding. She leaned against him, her body trembling. The current is much stronger than it was before.
He brushed some scales from her face. You make a habit of hiding in waste pipes?
Her black eyes sparkled with amusement. Lately it seems that is all I do.
He held her, sensing she was regaining her balance, and looked down into the conduit. The current was rushing as fast as any major sea stream. How long were you in there?
I do not know. Perhaps an hour. She shook off a bit of vegetable matter
clinging to one edge of her fins. Fokrej still thinks himself my . . . valet.
Fokrej could be eaten in two bites. He didn’t comment on her hesitation but instead surveyed her hide. You’re in need of a good cleaning. Do you have any mvrey on board?
She swiped at the grime on her face. My attendant will scrub me off later when I return to my chamber. She knows I use the conduits.
Not after this time. Burn lifted her face so that her gaze met his. Lady, I would rather not pull your bones out of the incinerator strainers. Stay out of those pipes.
She stiffened. Males do not tell females what to do on my world.
Remind me of this when we are on your world. While you are on this ship, you will stay out of the pipes.
I suppose it is too dangerous to keep using them. She pulled away from him and glanced at the secured hatch. He’ll be back soon; I must go.
Where else can you go that he will not find you? Burn was struck with an idea. I know. He tugged her toward the other exit. Come with me.
She tugged back. The last time I went somewhere with you, ’Zangian, I had to fly a ship.
You won’t have to fly this one.
Burn was glad he had insisted on keeping the detachment’s strafers docked with the Ylydii ship and held ready for launch. He led Liana through the next tank and into the corridor that led to the launch bay, where the carousel dock provided access to the IceBlade.
Is this your vessel? she asked as he opened the water lock to pass through the docking portal.
The ship was assigned to Shon Valtas, but the major had been recalled to K-2. In the absence of his pilot, Burn technically had command of the ship. He began to tell her that, but it was too close to a lie. He valued the truth, however unpleasant it was, and he would start off with her as he meant to go on.
Not yet. I am still in pilot training. He opened the canopy and disabled the weapons panels before moving back. Hop in.
Hop? She gave him a puzzled look before gliding into the strafer’s cockpit.
He made a face. It’s one of my cousin’s expressions. She’s part Terran.