DarkWind: 2nd Book, WindDemon Trilogy (6 page)

And that time came sooner than we expected.

The very next night, with the help of the Princess Raphaella, Khiershon Cree, Iyan McGregor, and three members of the crew that had crashed on Amazeen nine Solar Passings earlier, escaped on board a Diabolusian transport bound for its home world. It would be morning before Cree would be missed and another day before the warrant for his arrest was issued. By then, he and his entourage, including the princess, were long gone.

It has been five years since last we saw him, but word has come to us that he has taken the bait we set for him. He will journey to the old abandoned FSK-14 where he has been told he will find one of his bloodbrothers, Kaelan, who was transported to the space station and left there to die. (Note: We have not yet found the other five Reaper survivors: the two sets of twins, Sajin and Aidan, Rylan and Braiden, and the youngest Kaelan, but we will and we will dispose of them in the same manner planned for the eldest, Khiershon.)

 A bounty party is being dispatched to take Khiershon. We will take with us a generous portion of triso, known in our world as tenerse, to control him, for that is the only way now that he has reached his full power as Dearg Duls.

Once we have him under our authority, he will be taken to the Land of Shadows and there questioned as to the whereabouts of the Princess Raphaella and the others. If he will not tell us, he will be decapitated, his body burned and the ashes scattered to the Four Winds upon the plateau, but not before we have taken from him forcibly the seed needed to create life. Between the twelve of us, at least one is bound to breed the warrioress our Queen envisioned.

Tomorrow will see us at FSK-14 and I will write no more until he has either given us what we seek or is dead.

Caitlin leaned
back in her chair. “He made them take the hemlock,” she said. “Somehow he used his psychic ability to make them drink the poison.”

“Looks that way to me,” Atherton responded from her place beside Khiershon Cree. She stared at the livid bruises on his handsome face. “They got what they deserved.”

Caitlin looked up, staring blindly at her computer monitor. “They tortured him and he made them commit suicide.”

“Do you blame him?”

Caitlin shook her head. “No, I don’t blame him.” She drew in a long breath, and then exhaled slowly. “I don’t blame him at all.”

“Did you notice the tattoo on his left pectoral?” Atherton inquired. She was lightly tracing the stylized Reaper image with a fingertip. “It must have been burned into his flesh with a laser.”

“I saw it,” Caitlin answered.

“Dr. Kelly?” the voice on Com-Link inquired in an urgent tone.

“Aye?” Caitlin responded tiredly.

“You’d better come to the bridge ASAP, Ma’am,” Dixon told her.

Caitlin sighed. “On my way.” She looked around at Cathy Atherton and frowned sharply. “Do you think you can keep your hands off him, Catt Le?”

Atherton grinned at her. “Nope.”

“Try, okay?”

“No guarantees, lady.”

On the way up to the bridge, Caitlin found herself acutely uneasy. There was an underlying nervousness that had been building for several days and it concerned her. She knew the sleeplessness had something to do with it, but she suspected the majority of the edginess had to do with her patient.

The bridge was alive with activity when the titanium doors of the elevator shushed open. Crewmen were rushing about, their faces pale and tight. Caitlin was about to stop one and ask why when the warning klaxon began to sound. She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth sagging open.

The Captain began barking orders for weapons system activation. “Shields up!” he yelled, his lips trembling. “Torpedoes lock on target as soon as they are within range!”

“Who is within range?” Caitlin managed to ask a passing yeoman. “What’s going on?”

“We were told to stand down,” the yeoman mumbled. “They are ordering us to surrender or be blown out of the sky.”

“Who?” Caitlin repeated. “Who’s out there?”

“Ask him,” the yeoman snapped, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward the Captain. “That stupid idiot wants to fight and we barely have enough torpedoes on board to blow the lid off a trash can!” The yeoman pushed past her, hurrying to his station.

“Bring them up on screen, Bryan!” Wellmeyer was shouting. “I want to see them!”

Helen Bryan rolled her eyes skyward. “They’re cloaking, Captain, and I can’t lock on.”

“Cloaking?” Wellmeyer repeated as though he’d never heard the word before. “Cloaking?”

“Stealth mode, Captain,” Caitlin reminded him. She walked past him and went to Bryan’s station. “Have they identified themselves, Helen?”

Bryan shook her head. “No, but I believe they mean business, Caitlin.” She tried hailing the incoming ship again, but received no answer. “They don’t appear to be in the mood to discuss the matter.”

Even as she spoke, the Orion was buffeted by a shock wave as a missile passed close by her leeward side. Every one on the bridge pitched sideways, grabbing for whatever they could to keep from being thrown to the deck.

“Fire! Fire!” Wellmeyer shrieked.

“At what?” Dixon shouted. “Where?”

Once more the ship lurched in the percussive wave of a fired missile. Klaxons began going off all over ship as damage was recorded on the ship’s computers.

“Blow them out of our way!” Wellmeyer shouted. His eyes were wide, his face stark white.

“Try hailing them again,” Caitlin said in a calm voice. “Tell them we are not hostile. Ask them what they want. They’ve had plenty of time by now to monitor our language and format it into their own.”

Bryan nodded, trying to ignore the Captain’s ranting and raving in the background as he hurled ridiculous orders at his crew.

The Orion suddenly dropped a hundred yards, leaving the crew gasping as they found their hearts in their throats. The overhead lights flickered, went out, and the emergency generator kicked in, illuminating the bridge with an eerie greenish tint from the mercury lighting.

“They are responding, Ma’am,” Bryan said, glancing up at Caitlin.

“On screen,” Caitlin ordered.

There was a pulse of gray light, then the main Com-Link engaged.

He was obviously enraged, his jaw set, his eyes spearing the crew of the Orion with venomous fury. His angry stare swept over those on the bridge and settled unerringly on Wellmeyer. “I am the McGregor,” he announced.

Iyan,” Caitlin breathed and knew she was looking into the face of the man from the journal. As soon as his name passed her lips, the man’s stony attention leapt to her.

“Who the gods-be-damned hell are you, woman?” he demanded.

Caitlin had to swallow before she could answer. “I am Dr. Kelly. I am a-”

“Where is he?” Iyan growled, a muscle in his lean cheek working.

“In the sickbay. I am-”

“You will send him to us, now!”

Caitlin felt her knees growing weak beneath that savage stare. “I can’t. He’s-”

“Now, woman!” Iyan bellowed.

“I can’t!” she threw back at him with equal fire.

“By the gods, if you don’t, I’ll-”

“He’s in no condition to be transported anywhere!” Caitlin yelled and had the satisfaction of seeing the man blink, then the brutal anger returned in full force.

“Believe me when I tell you, woman, you do not want me to come get him,” Iyan warned her. “If I have to, I will make you regret...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Caitlin snapped, waving a dismissive hand. “You’ll make me regret I was ever born.” She pursed her lips. “Is that all the threat you can come up with when confronted by strong women?”

Iyan McGregor’s pale blue eyes flared. His mouth opened then snapped shut as his jaw locked and his stare narrowed viciously.

The Com-Link screen went black.

“Oh, Sweet Merciful Mary,” Wellmeyer whined. “Oh, Sweet Merciful Mother of God!” He threw his hands up to his face. “They’re going to blow us to kingdom come! They are going to...”

“Somebody shut that fool up, will ya?” Caitlin snapped. She put a firm hand on Helen Bryan’s shoulder. “Try hailing him again.”

“They won’t respond,” Helen said, her lips trembling.

“Try anyway.”

“Won’t do any good,” Helen warned. She lifted her hand and pointed to the Com-Link that had engaged once more.

Caitlin turned slowly and gasped. On the screen in front of her were five ships, ranged along the entire vista of the Com-Link screen’s expanse.

“They’ve got weapons locked on us, Caitlin,” Dixon said softly. “Enough firepower to reduce us to space lint.”

Caitlin closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly together for a moment, then opened them slowly and exhaled loudly. Very quietly she asked Bryan to try the hail again.

The screen came back up and the smirking countenance of Iyan McGregor filled the vista.

“Well?” he demanded.

Caitlin locked gazes with him. “You know where he was?” she asked.

“Aye,” came the snap. “On FSK-14 when you bastards...”

“No,” Caitlin disagreed, realizing McGregor had no idea what had happened to his friend. “He was on Montyne Vex when we found him.”

Once more the imposing blond-haired warrior blinked. He held her gaze, judging the truth of her word, and then Caitlin saw his rigid shoulders relax just a tad. “In the Sinisters,” he said, wanting the spot clarified.

“Aye, Captain McGregor,” she responded, giving him a title she wasn’t sure was his by rights, but when his chin lifted, she knew she had guessed correctly.

Now there was deep concern on the lean face. “Why was he there?” McGregor inquired, his brow creased.

“The Amazeen had taken him there.”

The slow intake of Iyan McGregor’s breath was loud over the Com-Link connection, his prolonged exhalation even louder. Caitlin saw his shoulder slump. His gaze was not as fierce, as hateful, and his voice, when he spoke, was not as hostile. “I warned him not to go to FSK-14. We all warned him.” He paused then asked, “What did they do to him?”

Caitlin not only sensed the deep concern in the warrior’s face, she heard it in his voice. “He was tortured, but he is alive, Captain. Not well, but alive. If you want to see him, you can come aboard and-”

“No!” Wellmeyer screeched, his voice loud enough to make even McGregor flinch.

Caitlin winced, too, but she ignored the outburst, still speaking to McGregor and holding that man’s attention. “If you wish to board, alone and unarmed, I-”

“Do you take me for a fool, bitch?” McGregor snarled, he looked behind him at the men ranged along his bridge and there were guffaws of sneering laughter.

“If you want to see Khiershon Cree, Captain,” Caitlin said, continuing despite his interruption, “that is the only way you will do so.”

The right portion of McGregor’s upper lip curled in contempt. “There will be nothing left of your ship-”

“Or of Khiershon Cree if you fire at us, you moron,” Caitlin said, losing patience.

The warriors on the bridge of McGregor’s ship took a step back from the tall blond man, fearful of his reaction to the words. They had no idea what ‘moron’ meant, but they knew from the woman’s tone, it was not a compliment.

The crew of the Orion held its collective breath as the other ship’s computer accessed the Com Officer’s terminaland and the Orion’s data bank probed for the meaning of the word.

Iyan McGregor cocked his head to one side, his eyes lowered, listening to the definition of the Terran woman’s word. As the insult registered, he slowly lifted his gaze and fused it with Caitlin’s. He glared hatefully at her, his anger a sentient thing aimed straight at her heart. When he raised his chin, a muscle in his left cheek quivering, she knew she had made an enemy of this man.

“We are at an impasse,” Caitlin told him, her heart thundering in her chest. She could see his fists opening and closing at his sides and knew without a doubt that he wished he had her neck in his strong grip. “Neither of us can win. You shoot at us, you risk killing your friend. We shoot at you and you shoot back; there again, risking him being harmed.”

“And what exactly is it you want?” he snapped, his face rigid.

“We want nothing from you, Captain,” Caitlin told him. “We are a Medivac ship on our way to...”

“Don’t tell him where we’re going!” Wellmeyer shouted.

“What do you want?” McGregor repeated, flicking a disgusted look to the Captain of the Terran vessel.

“You are guaranteed safe passage to the Orion. Come aboard, judge his condition for yourself. You know his anatomy better than I. If you think he is well enough to be transported to your ship, then you are free to leave with him. I will not be the one to make that decision and unknowingly hurt him more than he’s already been hurt.”

McGregor flinched at her words. He stared at her for a long time, and then lifted a hand to wipe at his lower face, pulling on his lower lip with his thumb and forefinger, an unconscious gesture she suspected was a nervous habit.