Rystani Warrior 04 - The Quest (4 page)

They landed against a wall, and he took the brunt of the crash, twisting to absorb the shock. She slammed into him, and he cradled her. For one second her body pressed against his, her soft curves, her toned flesh, her fresh-scented hair reminding him that she might fight like a warrior but was very female. Then she shoved back, pulled the jammer that she’d somehow wrested from the Kraj from her pocket, and turned it off.

She gestured to Kirek’s holstered blaster and the Kraj. “Shoot him.”

Kirek nudged the unconscious man with his boot. “There’s no need. He can’t harm us now. Let’s go before his ship arrives.”

Angel scowled at him. Kirek suspected if she still had her weapons, she wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot. However, he never killed unless in self-defense or to save a life.

Angel raised an eyebrow at his reluctance but said no more as they hurried back to the shuttle. Kirek was pleased to learn Angel was not only intelligent, but could defend herself so well. But he wished she had better equipment. The pared-down shuttle gave him a bit of trepidation, and he wished he had the former use of his psi that would have spotted faulty circuits, a weak hull, or the enemy that had been hiding in the shuttle bay ceiling.

“Captain.” Petroy’s voice crackled over the com.

“Go ahead.”

“The Kraj captain says he is done negotiating. They say that if we don’t hand over the Rystani warrior, Kirek, they’ll fire upon us, and from their ferocity of tone, I tend to believe them.”

“Understood. Are they in clutch beam range?”

“Not yet.”

“Tell them we left several Kraj alive. They are free to retrieve them. That should slow them down.”

“Aye, Captain.”

With Angel away from the
Raven,
Petroy appeared comfortable in charge. He remained calm in spite of the crisis.

Impressed that she didn’t give many specific orders to Petroy but just the main plan, trusting her officer to handle the crisis, Kirek focused his gaze on Angel. She flew the ship as
if it were second nature, her only concession to the fight they’d just been through or the warning just given, a flick of a switch to raise their shields.

Outdated, with limited computerization, the bare-wired but functional shuttle had been an antique before he’d been born. Reminding himself that not everyone in the galaxy had the credits to buy the latest technological engineering, he refrained from commenting about her superior flying or the ancient gear. Instead, he peered out the spotless screen for her mothership.

As they neared, he scrutinized her lines. Above and to starboard the
Raven’s
hull, shimmering gray
bendar
against the blackness of space looked like a winged beast of prey. The silhouette jarred Kirek’s memory, a faint vision in a long-forgotten dream suddenly sharpened.

His psi might be damaged, but he still had memories of when it had worked. He’d had a vision of this moment, this ship, this woman.

Stars. He understood he was exactly where he was supposed to be. The
Raven
and Angel were his fate.

During his lifetime, Kirek had always been haunted by flashes, visions of what should be. As a fetus in Miri’s womb, he’d reached out with his psi in a healing circle, already aware that destiny would set him apart. Those instincts hadn’t left him during his stays on Kwadii and Endeki or even during the long years of astral travel. Never had he envisioned a partner in his quest, but at the sight of the
Raven,
he understood that Angel would be important to his future.

If he’d had access to his psi, he might have known exactly how she was important. But now, he figured that the only way he had to find out what role they were supposed to fulfill in each other’s lives was to spend time with her, to develop a relationship with her.

So he tried to explain his quest, a course that had driven him almost since his first moment of consciousness. “Perhaps you’ve heard of a wormhole that opened between Earth and invaders from another galaxy?”

“The Zin? Of course, I’ve heard of the Zin.” She slammed into overdrive, and the engine purred. “Every Federation child learns in school how the Zin want to invade our galaxy, but the ancient Sentinels keep us safe.”

The Sentinels were fantastic machines built by The Perceptive Ones, the same race that had left behind the machinery that manufactured Federation citizens’ suits. Kirek had once been inside a Sentinel and had met two Perceptive Ones, but Angel wasn’t ready to hear that story yet.

“Captain,” said Petroy, injecting himself into the conversation, “the Kraj are closing fast. If they lock a clutch beam on your shuttle—”

“Feel free to fire on them if they attack, but I’m hoping that if they stop to pick up their injured it will delay them long enough for our return. We’re almost in. Open bay doors.”

“Doors open.”

Kirek took heart that although her stripped-down shuttle was ancient, she kept it spotless, and the engine hummed with well-maintained efficiency. Deciding to come clean about his mission, he leaned forward to peer around her lovely neck to catch her expression and placed absolute conviction into his tone. “The Zin are planning another attack.”

“Really?” Her tone remained skeptical as she dodged an asteroid with smooth skill, flew around debris as if it were second nature, and simultaneously carried on the conversation. “No one has ever even seen the Zin and yet you proclaim to know their plans.”

“It’s my quest to stop the Zin invasion.”

Her tone challenged him. “Because you were born in hyperspace? Because you’re an Oracle?”

His soul might be older than his years, but he still enjoyed interacting with a woman like Angel Taylor. She could handle herself and her ship, and her independent spirit radiated through her conversation with the brightness of a star gone nova. Already he relished her banter, her skill, and her feminine profile. He’d carried on alone for so long for so many years as he’d made his way back to the Milky Way Galaxy that he’d forgotten how uplifting it could be to converse with a woman with such an individualistic spirit. But even as he recognized his attraction to Angel, he understood that preventing the Zin invasion came before any personal considerations. “I will stop the Zin
…
because I can.”

“THE KRAJ HAVE recovered their people and are warming up their weapons, Captain.” Petroy greeted Angel on the bridge, gave up the command seat, and moved to his copilot’s position.

“Ready the hyperdrive engines,” she ordered, slipping behind her console with the ease of long practice.

“Done.”

She nodded thanks at the ever-efficient Petroy and frowned at the vidscreen, fully aware Kirek had trailed behind her onto the bridge and was looking around with keen interest. Although all four of the crew could fit in here at one time, it only took two to run all the systems, and her tiny bridge seemed crowded with the big Rystani aboard.

He’d told her one unusual story. She’d heard enough rumors to know it could be true
…
or a total fabrication. She hadn’t decided yet whether he was trustworthy. Although he’d helped save her during the Kraj attack, saving her had saved himself.

But damn, the man could fight. He’d moved like some kind of vidscreen hero, his skill evident in his fearless attacks that took down his enemies almost faster than the eye could follow. He’d proved he was dangerous—but to whom?

Even if she’d been so inclined, locking him up on the
Raven
wasn’t an option, unless she wanted to give up her quarters, and she didn’t. She figured as long as the Kraj were after Kirek and she protected him, he likely wouldn’t interfere with the
Raven’s
operations.

Angel drummed her fingers on her console and glared at Kirek. What secret was he keeping? She thought it odd he’d admitted knowledge of the aliens but then refused to say why they wanted him. She hoped she wasn’t harboring a murderer, but despite Kirek’s muscles, despite his fight with the Kraj and his words about taking out the Zin, he seemed contradictorily, a warrior who didn’t kill like most Rystani warriors she’d heard of.

Although advanced computers could have given her a complete rundown on Kirek’s background, her antiquated system didn’t have enough memory to carry extraneous data about Federation history. So she had no way to check out his story until they reached Dakmar. She just prayed that he hadn’t refused to kill the Kraj because they were working together in an elaborate ruse to steal her prize and the
Raven.

So while she appeared to give the Rystani free rein of her ship, she keyed in a command code that locked out any orders that came from anyone other than her and her crew. Since she’d been careful to keep her body between his gaze and her fingers, Kirek couldn’t possibly have seen her fingers move over the console, yet when she caught his amused gaze on her, she could have sworn he
knew.

Impossible. She shook off her wild imagination and hailed the Kraj through the com. “This is Captain Angel Taylor of the
Raven.
According to Federation laws, our salvage is locked and loaded in our clutch beam. We have lawful possession and any attempt to take—”

“We have no interest in salvage.” The Kraj’s voice was rough and hostile. His sallow gray skin hung in loose folds over a flat
,
humanoid face devoid of expression, with a dominating brow and a bulbous nose. The Kraj’s mouth parted to reveal sharp, pointy teeth. “We have held our fire, showing our good intentions.”

“Now that’s a matter of opinion,” Angel muttered, her voice too low for the Kraj to hear. To the aliens, she remained polite, but she hadn’t forgotten or forgiven their attack on the Vogan ship. “Perhaps we can do business on Landolin. Angel out.”

“Now?” Petroy asked.

“Now,” Angel agreed and jumped into hyperspace.

At her command, webbing dropped from the ceiling to protect them during the high acceleration. Kirek started as if surprised, then accepted the web-in like a pro. While his adjustment revealed he was accustomed to space travel, he apparently hadn’t seen antiquated equipment like hers. Interesting. Apparently he’d only traveled on the Federation’s newest ships, the expensive ones that only the wealthiest citizens on the central planets could afford.

Angel didn’t know what to think about Kirek. She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever know more than he wanted her to know. If even half the entire story he’d told her was true, he was one of the ten wonders of the Federation. Yet, he was far too real, far too male, for her to think of him as some holy oracle.

Kirek had the demeanor of a commander and muscle to match. With a face like his, women would dream of having him in their arms. Herself included. If she’d met him during other circumstances, Angel wouldn’t mind enjoying his magnificent body herself. But right now, she didn’t trust him.

He carried himself with an easy self-control and poise, as
if he’d been battle-tested and had come out the victor many times. What was he? Who was he, really? And was she risking her ship and possibly the lives of her crew by refusing to hand him over to the Kraj?

Hyperspace always enhanced her senses. Lights brightened. Sounds sharpened. Kirek’s gaze drilled her with curiosity as the webbing retracted.

“Landolin?” Kirek’s tone remained mild, but a muscle in his jaw clenched. “I thought we were going to Dakmar?”

She shrugged and allowed herself a pleased grin. “I saw no reason to advertise our destination.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, his sincere gaze showering her with approval.

She didn’t need his damn approval.

Angel turned to navigation, but she couldn’t stop the glow of warmth he’d set off from making her stomach tighten—or from preventing her curiosity about the Rystani from escalating.