Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) (32 page)

"Is she dead?"

He glanced at the inert form in the brig.
Dansan's absolute stillness verified what he already knew. She
posed no further threat to anyone. He'd waited for this moment for
three seasons. Now that it had arrived, he felt nothing. No joy, no
release…nothing. "Yes, she's dead."

"She created viruses to kill people," Nessa
whispered through parched lips.

Hundreds of people, Chase thought grimly.
The cost in human life not even important, just the monetary gain.
"She won't murder again." He brushed her hair back. "Don't try to
talk any more. We'll get you help."

Gazing at his face, she lifted a shaking
hand to his cheek. "Too late…." She paused, gasping for breath.
"Take care of the children. Chase, I—"

"What happened here? Is Nessa injured?"

Chase whirled to see Sabin stepping over the
unconscious Anteks, followed by another man. "Where the hell have
you been, Travers? Dansan and her henchmen decided to help
themselves to my ship. Nessa's not injured, but she collapsed. I
need to get her into the lab."

The man with Sabin leaped across the bodies
and strode over. "Nessa!"

She jerked in Chase's arms, reaching toward
the man. "Jarek! You're safe!"

A wave of jealousy hit Chase as he stared up
at the dark-haired young man looking at Nessa with open emotion on
his face. Jarek leaned toward her, but Sabin pulled him back.
"Don't get too close."

"Thank you, Sabin." With a sigh, she went
limp in Chase's arms. The stimulant injection had long since worn
off, and only sheer determination had kept her conscious.

Chase didn't have time to question whom
Jarek was to Nessa. He gathered her in his arms and carried her to
the lab. By the time he placed her on the table, tremors were
shaking her body. He covered her and lowered the heatwave light,
then began cleaning her arm to apply an intravenous strip.

From the entry, Sabin cleared his throat.
"Chase, we need to talk to you about Nessa's condition."

His partner rarely called him by his first
name; something in his tone caught Chase's attention. He shifted
his attention to Sabin. "Just what do you know about this?"

Sabin gestured to the man beside him. "First
of all, this is Jarek san Ranul. He's Nessa's brother, and he can
tell you more than I can."

Nessa's brother! A sense of relief swept
through Chase, but he didn't have time to ponder it. He looked at
the serious young man. "Then tell me, and quickly. She's running
out of time."

Jarek looked at Nessa, grief contorting his
face. "She has Orana. She was injected with it almost one moon
cycle ago."

"What?" Chase lowered her arm and stepped
toward Jarek. "
Orana
! But —only a Shielder can contract it.
That means—" He whirled as the full implication hit him, and stared
at the inert form on the table.

A Shielder! Nessa was a Shielder.

Stunned, he spun back around and looked from
Sabin to Jarek, then back to Sabin. His partner nodded, confirming
the staggering truth.

"Who did this to her?" Chase growled.

"It's not what you think," Jarek said. "She
volunteered as a live host to carry the virus. She was taking it
to—to a medical laboratory for analysis."

"To Santerra?" Chase asked. He knew no
honorable Shielder would ever reveal a base or colony location to a
non-Shielder. He had just happened to stumble on the facility at
Santerra once, but had never exposed its location. He had no
intention of participating in genocide.

Jarek paled even further. "Don't worry,"
Chase assured him. "I won't reveal the base location. I have no
quarrel with Shielders."

"Then you won't turn in Nessa or Jarek?"
Sabin asked.

"I'm not planning on it."

Sabin cleared his throat. "Why not? Your
Controller indoctrination—"

"Never took," Chase interrupted,
understanding Sabin's implication. "I went through the required
procedure like all other agents, but I took steps that protected me
from psionic mind control."

He turned back to Nessa, the pieces falling
into place. Her desperation to reach Zirak, only a few days from
Santerra, as quickly as possible. A desperation finally reaching
such great proportions, she stole his ship. "Why didn't she tell
me? I would have taken her directly there."

"You're a shadower, old man. She was afraid
to tell you." Sabin moved beside him. "You have to help her,
Chase."

Orana. A virus reputed to be every bit as
atrocious as Ramos, created by the same twisted genius. And if
Dansan had employed similar genetic traits, then the virus mutated
at regular intervals, making it virtually impossible to find an
antidote.

Panic slammed through Chase, sucking him
into an undertow of painful memories, dragging him back in
time.…The bodies everywhere, overflowing the infirmary into the
corridors, faces twisted in agony. All the while he rushed here and
there, trying desperately to tend to the ill, and at the same time
create a counteragent to the virus ravaging its victims. Every time
he thought he had the cure, the insidious strain changed again.

"Chase, help me," his sister Chandra had
gasped, clinging to his hands, writhing uncontrollably on the mat.
"I know you can help me. You're the best…the best."

But in the end, her sightless eyes had
stared up at him, a mocking reminder of his colossal failure to
save
any
of the victims. His parents, his brother, his best
friend, all dead. He had failed them all. The only ones spared
besides him were those few who had been away on a trade
mission.

He never knew for sure why the disease
hadn't claimed him. The most plausible reason was that he hadn't
drunk from the communal water supply into which Dansan had dumped
the virus. He preferred Merlain spring water and always kept a
supply on hand. Once the virus had manifested, he'd taken further
precautions, using masks and gloves.

He'd turned his back on medicine the day the
last body had been lowered into the unforgiving ground. Swearing
vengeance on Dansan, he promised the remaining colony members he'd
bring her back to stand trial for her crimes. He began a pursuit
that had taken three seasons. And now…

He stared at Nessa, her frail body racked
with chills. Terror threatened to consume him; his heart pounded
fiercely against his chest. She couldn't die on him. Not now, not
when he was just beginning to realize how much she meant to him,
how very much he needed her. But the apocalypse at Torin haunted
him, immobilized him with fear.

"I don't know if I can help her." He turned
toward his partner. "I'm not capable."

“
I think I know your
real
identity,” Sabin said. “If you're whom I suspect you
are,
Dr. McKnight
, you're more than capable."

Chase looked at Nessa again. Fear tormented
him—fear he would fail her like he had so many others. "I don't
want her to die, but I don't know if I can save her."

Sabin clasped his shoulder. "What happened
on Torin was a horrible tragedy, but it wasn't your fault. Are you
going to let the past keep you from saving Nessa?"

It wouldn't be the past that hurt Nessa; it
would be his own incompetence.

"You are her
only
hope, doctor. And
Raven’s and Brand's." Sabin nodded at Chase's startled look. "Yes,
they're Shielders. That's why Nessa brought them to me, hoping they
wouldn't contract the Orana from her. And Jarek has been exposed.
He needs the vaccine as well.

"I need the vaccine, too, Chase," Sabin
added quietly. "I'm a Shielder."

"Nessa! Wake up, Nessa."

Heaviness engulfed her, weighing her down in
a surreal stillness, although the welcome darkness seemed to be
receding. Light encroached on the edges of her consciousness, but
she didn't want to wake up, didn't want to remember.…

A faint hum vibrated over her forehead.
"Leonessa dan Ranul! Come now, I know you can hear me. Open your
eyes."

Only her father had ever called her by her
full name. Her father! A blooming hope nudged her toward the light.
After all these seasons, he'd come to help her.

"Captain san Mars…father," she rasped. Her
throat…so dry. "You've come! You're accepting me back." She
struggled to awaken, but sudden dizziness swept her back into the
darkness.

"I'm not your father, Nessa. Open your
eyes."

She knew that commanding, arrogant voice
from somewhere…no, she didn't want to wake up. If she did, the pain
would return—an insufferable agony burning through her limbs.

Instead, she chose to sink deeper, floating
through vague memories, memories of a voice calling her, refusing
to let her drift away, even when the pain had been intolerable.
Memories of a cool, wet cloth stroking her burning skin, of the
soothing touch of hands against her face. A touch that had been
intimately familiar.

A warm hand slipped beneath the covers,
clasping her much cooler hand and squeezing gently. "Nessa, look at
me."

She didn't want to leave her cocoon of
warmth and safety, of blissful oblivion. She shook her head.

"Still trying my patience." Amusement tinged
the deep voice. "Don't make me take drastic measures."

The hand holding hers released it, then slid
along her rib cage and over her breast, settling there in a
blatantly possessive gesture.
That
got her attention,
pulling her toward full awareness. She stirred, half opening her
eyes.

The form before her blurred, cleared,
blurred. Chase. She squeezed her eyes shut. It couldn't be Chase.
He hated her now. Besides, she must be dead. The Orana …Her groggy
mind struggled to function. The virus! Her eyes snapped open.

Above her, Chase grinned, his hand still on
her breast. "Good, your heart rate is up. I should have done this
sooner."

She closed her eyes again, not certain
whether she'd entered Haven or the Abyss. Would Chase be awaiting
her in Haven as a reward, or in Abyss as a punishment?

The pain and the fever were gone, so she
must be dead. But her body felt solid—and stiff. Perplexed, she
shifted, wincing at the soreness of her backside. Did the dead feel
discomfort? Drawing on her last conscious memory, she remembered
the Orana had been too advanced for her to reach Santerra in
time.

"Nessa, don't shut me out. Open your eyes,
sweetheart."

Sweetheart
? Maybe she'd been granted
entry to Haven. Hopefully, she opened her eyes. Chase was still
there, and he didn't look angry. But lines of strain etched his
face, and dark circles lay beneath his eyes. She thought she saw
relief in their silvery depths. His hand slid from her breast to
stroke the hair back from her face.

"Where am I?" she croaked.

He laid the medical monitor down and took
her hand again. His other hand remained against her face. "You're
in my cabin."

Surprised, she looked around, noticing for
the first time the familiar surroundings. Perhaps Haven duplicated
a dead person's environment to make them feel welcome.

"I moved you here this morning. You've been
in sick bay—the medical lab actually—until now.

She couldn't make any sense of this. "The
medical lab?"

"We're on Santerra, Nessa. I kept you on the
ship because it has better facilities."

"But the Orana—"

"Is gone. Your body fought it off, with a
lot of help."

She blinked, trying to comprehend his words.
"Then I'm not dead?"

"Of course not. Wait a minute."

He rose and strode away. His motion made
Nessa dizzy, and she closed her eyes. She heard a clunk, some
hissing and snarling, then Chase sneezing. Returning, he sat on the
edge of the bunk and took her hand. She felt the softness of fur
beneath her fingers, heard an excited chattering. Turi!

Her eyes flew open. "Turi." He scrabbled
across her chest and burrowed into his favorite place beneath her
chin. She stroked the silky body. "Oh, Turi."

Chase sneezed. "Does he feel real?"

Turi's reassuring heartbeat thudded beneath
her fingers. "Yes."

"You're alive, Nessa. And you're going to
recover completely. Thank the Spirit."

She was alive! If she'd had any energy, she
would have shouted for joy. She couldn't believe she'd been cured.
"How?"

"It's a long story, and you need to rest."
Chase pried Turi away, holding him by the nape of his neck, so he
couldn't bite. Sneezing several more times, he returned the lanrax
to his case.

She watched him, her momentary exhilaration
dulling with fatigue. She was so confused, had so many questions…so
tired.

Chase bent over her. "Sleep now, Nessa.
We'll talk more later.

No sense arguing with him, she thought
drowsily, already drifting away. The covers were pulled up around
her. "Sleep," his voice rumbled near her ear.

As she slipped back toward oblivion, one
thought dominated. She was alive…she was alive…alive!

* * * *

Nessa awoke with a start, more alert this
time. Glancing over, she saw Chase by the bunk, slumped down in his
massive chair, sound asleep. Beyond him lay the familiar shapes and
wall units indicating this was indeed his cabin. She hadn't been
hallucinating—she really was alive!

She lay in the glow of relief, luxuriating
in the feel of the silky covers, of being able to draw a full
breath of fresh air. Even with her body sore and aching, it felt
wonderful to be alive.

Her mind much clearer, she tried to trace
from her last conscious memory to here. She couldn't remember much,
only being very ill. She was certain Chase had somehow been
responsible for her survival, although how eluded her. If he knew
anything about Orana, then he now knew she was a Shielder. And if
they were on Santerra, he knew about the Shielder colony there as
well.