Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) (30 page)

Chase. Finally recognizing the voice, Nessa
struggled to sit up. Clarity returned, and she remembered where she
was. Chase lay nearby, thrashing, the agonized cries tearing from
him. Her heart pounding, she crawled to him. He twisted into her,
knocking her sideways.

"Chase! What is it?" Panicky, she struggled
up and edged back to his side. She stared at his contorted face.
His eyes were closed. "Chase?"

"Somebody…please! I need help. Isn't there
anyone who can help?" he moaned brokenly. "I can't…can't do
it."

He cried out again, his voice fraught with
grief and despair. Nessa realized he must be in the throes of a
nightmare. His torment knifed through her, and she wrapped her arms
around his struggling body.

"Chase. You're okay. It's just a dream."
Using all her limited strength, she held onto his heaving body. She
continued talking, soothing him, like she had with Raven and Brand,
until he finally stilled with a shuddering breath.

She sank back, barely maintaining her hold
on him. Trembling, he sagged against her, resting his head on her
breast. Shaking as well, she stroked his hair, damp with sweat. She
reveled in the feel of him. One last chance to touch him, to trace
the strength of his face.

Suddenly he stiffened, full awareness
returning. He lifted his head, his eyes narrowing. "Get away from
me." He pushed to his feet and moved to the opposite end of the
cell.

An arrow of pain pierced her soul. Wishing
she could go back in time and do something—anything—to have
prevented this situation, she whispered, "You don't know how sorry
I am."

"Save it for another fool." Leaning against
the wall, he dropped his face into his hands. "I haven't had that
nightmare in two seasons—" He looked up and impaled her with a look
of pure loathing. "Damn you, Nessa. Damn you to the corners of the
galaxy."

His curse was unnecessary. She was already
damned.

And the man she loved would never forgive
her.

She gathered enough strength to crawl to the
opposite corner, where mental and physical exhaustion finally
claimed her. Some time later, a boot prodded her awake.

“
Up, citizen. The Commander
is on his way."

Disoriented, she gaped at the Antek looming
over her. He prodded her again. "Up." Then he lumbered toward
Chase, but Chase had already awakened and risen to his feet.

She pulled herself upright along the wall,
praying her stiff, weak legs would support her. The room tilted
alarmingly. Closing her eyes, she tried to draw a deep breath into
her lungs, instead receiving jabs of pain.

Two more guards preceded the base commander
into the cell, flanking the entry. Behind the commander, Sabin
sauntered in. Until this moment, Nessa had never dreamed she'd be
glad to see him.

"I understand you're Chase McKnight," the
commander said to Chase.

"I told you that yesterday," Chase grated
out.

The commander seemed unconcerned. "Ah, well,
one can't be too careful, now, can they? But your partner here
contacted Commander Domek, who identified you from a visual. Then
we ran your disk through the main computer at Alta, and you came up
clean. Apparently your records were altered on Odera."

Chase shot Nessa a damning glare. "I assumed
as much."

This news staggered her. Someone had planted
condemning computer records on Chase, and he obviously blamed her.
No wonder he displayed such hostility. No sense trying to tell him
she hadn't altered those records. He'd never believe anything she
said now.

He turned toward the entry. "Come on, let's
get out of here."

Nessa started to follow, but the commander
flung out his arm, blocking her. "She's not leaving. Her
identification is false. I can't release a possible criminal."

Chase turned back and looked her over, cold
and calculating. "This one's mine. She's a wanted felon all right.
I've been hunting her, and I claim bounty rights. I'll take her to
collect the reward. But first, I have some personal business to
settle with her."

At least he didn't plan on leaving her
behind. Relief swept through her, even though his expression told
her quite clearly his business with her would be very unpleasant.
At least she could try to help Jarek now.

The commander eyed her, taking note of the
slime covering her bare legs and arms, her torn tunic. "If you're
sure," he grunted, disgust evident in his tone. "Aren't you going
to shackle her?"

Chase stared pointedly at the commander. "It
seems my utility belt was confiscated yesterday. Travers, would you
do the honors?"

Sabin raised his brows, but stepped forward,
unhooking from his belt the electronic shackles every shadower
carried. Nessa stiffened, but didn't resist when he snapped them
onto her wrists. She noted he didn't tighten them much or activate
the shock mechanism.

"Should I do her legs, McKnight?" he
asked.

Chase's steely gaze speared through her.
"That's not necessary. There's nowhere she can run."

With a grunt, the commander turned and
strode through the entry. The guards, then Chase and Sabin,
followed him. Nessa limped behind the group, trying to catch up
with Sabin, who trailed the others. Extending her bound arms, she
managed to grasp his flightsuit. He glanced over his shoulder at
her, his expression none too pleasant.

"Keep your filthy hands off me," he
hissed.

"I have to talk to you." She kept her voice
low, so Chase wouldn't hear.

"I don't want to talk to you. You look like
the walking dead, and you smell even worse."

"Please. This is urgent."

Exhaling loudly, he slowed, letting Chase
and the guards get farther ahead of them. "Come to think of it, I
do
want to talk to you. What were you thinking when you
hijacked Chase's ship? And why did you dump those children and two
ill-tempered animals on me? Just
what
is going on?"

He took a step toward her. Remembering the
Orana, she backed up hastily. "Are the children okay?"

"They're just fine. What did you think? That
I'd leave them there at the CTC? I didn't, but I should have. All
they've done is mope and cry for you and Chase. Spirit preserve
me!" He stepped forward again, and Nessa moved back. His eyes
narrowed and he raised a hand toward her.

"Don't touch me."

He dropped his hand, glaring at her. "What
is the matter with you?"

"I saw my brother entering this center as a
prisoner."

For a moment, she thought she saw a look of
compassion cross his face. "I'm sorry." Then his usual mask of
nonchalance returned. "Why are you telling me this?"

Her legs trembled, reminding her they
wouldn't hold up much longer. She was terrified she might sign
Jarek's death warrant if she told Sabin too much, yet filled with
dread that Jarek's fate might already be sealed. But she would have
to trust this renegade Shielder. She had no one else to turn
to.

"He's an able and skilled squadron
commander. He's also next in line as Council head in our
colony."

Sabin's expression sharpened. "What
colony?"

Nessa hesitated. She had to risk Jarek's
life in order to help him. She didn't have to place an entire
Shielder colony in jeopardy. "I can't tell you that."

He muttered a curse, then grated, "And your
brother's name?"

"Jarek."

Sabin considered a moment. "Chase gave your
last name as Ranul. I would assume your real name is Nessa dan
Ranul. Am I correct?"

Again she hesitated. If Sabin knew her real
name, then he'd know Jarek's. Jarek had always been secretive about
his forays against the Controllers. For all she knew, her brother
had a price on his head. But if he did, he was as good as dead
anyway. Not only that, once he arrived at Alta, they'd perform the
standard blood test, and ascertain he was a Shielder.

She nodded. "Yes. That's my name." Her
strength gave out, and she staggered, almost falling. Sabin reached
for her, but she jerked away. "No! Don't touch me!"

He frowned. "The way you're acting, one
would think you have—" He froze, a look of horror spreading across
his face. "By the fires! You have Orana!" He stumbled back from
her.

"Lower your voice." Nessa glanced around,
relieved to see the others some distance away. She looked at Sabin
wearily. "I'm sorry you're exposed, but I don't think it's
contagious yet. I just didn't want the children to catch it."

He took another step back, understanding
dawning in his eyes. "Is that why you brought them to me?"

Nessa tried to focus her rapidly blurring
thoughts. "Yes. Now about my brother—"

"What's going on there?" Chase's voice cut
in angrily.

* * * *

Sabin turned his head. "Nessa's ill. She
needs medical treatment."

"So?" Chase strode back down the corridor,
highly aggravated by the fact Travers and Nessa had seemed so
chummy lately. Not that he was jealous, he told himself. Damn, but
Nessa looked even worse today. Cloud-white skin, dark circles
beneath bloodshot eyes. "Why should I concern myself with a ship
and computer larcenist?"

Amazement crossed his partner's face. "You
mean she's the one who tampered with—"

"I know she is." Chase stared pointedly at
Nessa, making his intent of retribution clear. "And she'll get
hers. But right now, all I want to do is get the hell out of this
Abyss, even if I have to carry her to speed things up."

He reached for her, but she staggered away,
looking toward Sabin, her eyes beseeching. "Please help him," she
pleaded hoarsely.

Chase's irritation flared. He grasped her
arm. "Help
who
? What's going on here, Travers?"

Sabin hesitated for the briefest moment.
"She's concerned about Brand. Wants me to find a good home for
him."

Feeling an inexplicable pang at the mention
of the mute little boy with huge, sad eyes, Chase pulled Nessa
closer. "I want to discuss the children with you later, Travers.
Right now, we're leaving. Be still, Nessa!"

He swung her into his arms and headed up the
corridor, toward the commander and his guards, who watched them
suspiciously. After a brief struggle, where she tried to look
around his arm at Sabin, she sighed and went limp, resting her head
against his chest.

She was burning with fever, hotter than the
sands of Calt. Her sweat-drenched hair clung to her pale face; the
dampness of her tunic seeped through his clothing. Panic
resurfaced. She needed treatment immediately—only he didn't know
for what.

"What is going on here, McKnight?" the
commander demanded. "And what's wrong with her?"

"As I said, Commander, I have some personal
grievances against this prisoner." Chase glanced at Nessa, his
chest tightening. Her eyes closed, her breathing ragged, she
appeared to have surrendered her grasp on consciousness. Only her
clenched hands indicated otherwise. "I think she has the Alberian
flu. You'd better be sure all your men are up to date on their
immunizations."

The soldiers drew back quickly. "Then get
her out of here," the commander barked, retreating with his
men.

"Gladly," Chase muttered. He glanced at
Sabin behind him. "Let's go."

Sabin shifted back, his dark eyes
unfathomable. "You go on, old man. I have some business to take
care of here."

"What business would you have in this
hellhole?"

"I need to settle a debt."

So did Chase, with two different women.

"You do that, Travers." He paused,
bitterness warring with other, unidentified emotions. "Catch up
with me later. I want a report on Raven and Brand."

He wanted to see the two children, assure
himself they were all right. He missed Brand's warm little body
settling on his lap, the boy's soft sigh as he leaned against
him.…He didn't need this! He strode toward the entry.

"McKnight."

Chase turned back to his partner. "Yes."

Sabin inclined his head toward Nessa. "She's
really sick."

Chase's insides churned with a myriad of
feelings. Concern, anger, resentment—and fear. Dread, actually, and
a familiar sense of helplessness. "I can see that, Travers," he
snapped. "What do you expect me to do about it?"

"You seem to know a lot about medicine."

Not enough. Not nearly enough.
"I
know a little."

Sabin watched him, as if trying to discern
his deepest secrets. "Are you going to help her?"

Chase looked down at Nessa. She appeared
truly unconscious now, her sagging hands almost sliding from the
shackles. Her arms and legs were filthy with the slime from the
brig. She felt so small and fragile in his arms. She'd lost weight
she couldn't afford to lose.

He couldn't let her die. Even after what
she'd done to him, he still cared for her, drawn to her by
inexplicable, emotional bonds.

Yet she was no better than Dansan in her
determination to destroy a life. It didn't matter if it was one
life or hundreds, the intent was the same. She had betrayed him,
just as Dansan had.

He had tried to curse her last night. He
wanted to hate her…but he couldn't.

Even now, all his instincts screamed for him
to protect her, take care of her. His vows of healing also bound
him, even though he'd turned his back on his profession three
seasons ago. As much as he tried to believe that part of his life
was over, he never seemed able to leave it completely behind.

"I'll do what I can," he told Sabin.
"Contact me later."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Chase entered his
ship. Nothing else had delayed him. But Nessa had not stirred,
which concerned him. Bypassing decontamination, he carried her to
the laboratory and placed her on the table. After removing the
shackles, he ran the monitor over her, cursing at the readings. The
virus he'd detected a few weeks earlier had proliferated like wild
keranis. It appeared to be a nasty one.