Shadower Page 10

  He'd continue to do what he had to; he had no alternative. Though, right now, for the next seven cycles, he was out of commission, unable to do anything. Unless Moriah turned up and he got his old ship back. At the mere thought of that golden-eyed thief, his blood pressure shot off the chart. What he wouldn't give to have his hands on her—literally. He could think of myriad ways he'd like to demonstrate his seething anger, starting with blistering her shapely bottom, then throwing her in the brig for a few hundred cycles.

  The vision in his mind shifted, as his body joined the fray, casting a vote for what it would like to do with her. Fragmented images of her lying naked beneath him swirled through his mind. Fantasy or fact? He honestly couldn't say, because he'd lost a chunk of time between his last concrete recollection of Galen's taunting disclosure of Aron's death and waking up to blue feathers.

  It hadn't been a fantasy in the cockpit, however, when he'd foolishly given in to temptation and kissed Moriah again. He could still remember the texture of her hair tangled in his fingers, the taste of her, the feel of her pressed against him, her vehement withdrawal and taunting retort. The lady had a way of shredding his ego. So she'd had better, had she? He'd just have to prove her wrong.

  Damn! He leaped from the chair and paced. "Are you still scanning for my ship's homing signal?"

  "Of course," McKnight replied. "But I think we'd have picked it up by now if the ship was still in the quadrant. Unless your mystery woman disconnected it."

  Moriah was certainly clever enough to do that. She had disappeared, seemingly without a trace. It should have been difficult, if not impossible, to elude the net Sabin had cast. He'd notified the authorities at every Controller facility and star base; every shadower, every Shielder scout—everyone he knew. No one had reported seeing his ship. She had either left the quadrant or gone to ground somewhere.

  He wasn't determined to find her just because of the blow to his pride, or the loss of his ship, although those rankled him plenty. Of even more concern was her potentially disastrous knowledge of a Shielder colony's location. In the wrong hands, that information could precipitate the loss of hundreds of innocent lives.

  He knew firsthand how the Anteks operated, moving into Shielder colonies and slaughtering men, women, and children. And when he managed to block the memories for a cycle or two, the nightmares always returned to remind him.

  The subspace transceiver beeped, jolting him back to the present. He pivoted as his partner answered. "McKnight here."

  "Hey, McKnight," came a familiar voice. "Radd here. Got Sabin with ya?"

  "Right here." Sabin strode toward the console. "What's going on?"

  "So's your new ship ready yet?"

  He shifted impatiently. "Not for seven more cycles. Is that why you're contacting me?"

  "Naw. I thought if you still need it, you might want to come get your old ship."

  That got his attention. "Are you saying you know where my ship is?"

  "Yep. Just been working on it, matter of fact. Starboard thruster went out. Whole thing had to be replac—"

  "Cut the commentary, Radd. Where the hell are you?"

  "Oh, uh, Star Base Intrepid."

  "And my ship is there?"

  "Yep."

  Sabin waited, but no information appeared forthcoming. "Care to elaborate?"

  "I'm on Star Base Intrepid, your ship's on Star Base Intrepid. What else is there to know?"

  Gripping the console, Sabin groaned in utter frustration. McKnight leaned back in his chair, grinning broadly. Glaring at him, Sabin gritted out, "I want to know details, Radd. Details! Where on Star Base Intrepid are you, how did you find my ship, and have you seen the woman who hijacked it? She's the same one who was on the ship at Calt."

  "Yep, she's with the ship. Her and three other women."

  Obviously, he was going to have to ferret out the information. "And you just happened to see my ship on Intrepid," he prompted.

  "Actually, one of the women approached me, 'cause the ship broke down. Asked me to work on it."

  For once, Sabin was grateful his ship broke down at regular intervals. Then panic raced through him, as another thought occurred. "You haven't finished the repairs, have you? Is the ship operational yet?"

  "Nope. Figured you might not appreciate your ship gettin' away again. I told the ladies I had some parts ordered, that it would be another cycle or two."

  Thank Spirit Radd was more intelligent than he acted. Sabin saw McKnight entering new coordinates on the navigation screen. "What did Moriah have to say about that?"

  "I haven't dealt with her too much. More with the tall, belligerent one. But none of 'em were pleased. They don't have much choice, though. All the other mechanics refuse to work on your junker. Say it's cursed."

  McKnight snickered, but Sabin ignored him. "That's great, Radd. You handled the situation well. Now listen, I need you to keep that ship from being operational until we get there. You can do most of the repairs; just don't do all the wiring or diagnostics. We're two cycles out, so stall Moriah and the others as long as you can."

  "Okay."

  Another thought occurred to Sabin. "Oh, and Radd, install another homing beacon while you're at it. Make sure it's hidden, and fix it so it can't be disconnected without a security code. And the force field on my brig needs to be repaired, if you can find a way to get inside the ship."

  "Can do."

  He got the location of the landing bay and the dock number where the ship was, and agreed to meet Radd there in two cycles. Then he signed off. Jubilation shot through him. He was going to get his ship back—and deal with Moriah. He sank into his seat, already thinking about the reunion. Any exchanges with her promised to be very interesting. And most satisfying.

  McKnight eyed him quizzically. "So, partner, aren't you going to contact the authorities on Intrepid?"

  Sabin hadn't considered that. With a quick communiqué Moriah and her accomplices could be thrown into prison and held until he got there. The idea offered an appeal, but he quickly discarded it. They'd be at the mercy of guards known for their debauchery; plus, they might be sent to Alta before he arrived at the star base. As a shadower, he could claim bounty rights and obtain their release on Intrepid, but once they reached Alta, he couldn't help them.

  He didn't want Moriah to be tortured and executed, no matter how furious he was with her. She was a liar and a thief, but she wasn't a vicious criminal deserving of the horrendous punishments doled out by the Controllers and their henchmen. Besides, it would be so much more rewarding to deal with her himself. "No, I'm not going to call the authorities," he answered. "I'll handle the matter personally."

  "Lucky lady," McKnight murmured.

  Sabin shot him a sharp glance, but McKnight's expression was impassive. He didn't care if his partner harassed him all the way to Intrepid. Things were suddenly looking up. He'd get his ship back. Although he hated to admit it, even to himself, he had a soft spot for that decrepit piece of junk. It had been the first thing that ever really belonged to him. For the last twelve seasons, it had been his home.

  Even if those seasons had been lonely, at least they'd been profitable, allowing him a freedom he'd never known until then. He'd been dependent on no one, and he swore he never would be again.

  His thoughts returned to Moriah, and his pulse quickened. Anticipation heated his blood at the thought of seeing her again and making certain she got her just reward. He could hardly wait.

  * * * *

  "Aren't those repairs done yet?" Moriah asked as Lionia entered the cockpit.

  "No!" Lionia snarled. "The little serpent claims he needs at least another cycle. I don't trust him." She pulled her magnasteel dagger from the sheath at her waist. The light glinted off its laser-sharp edge. "I say we use kamta to speed him up."

  "No," Moriah said firmly. "Carving Zarian war patterns on the mechanic's body won't speed up anything, and would only draw attention to us. But I don't trust this guy either. He looks so familiar. I know
I've seen him somewhere. Celie, has he ever worked on any of our ships before? Celie!"

  Celie glanced up from the computer screen, a faraway look in her eyes. "What?"

  Moriah looked at her affectionately. Her sister, the dreamer. Despite the hardships they'd endured, Celie maintained an innate innocence, and a fascination with learning. She had the ability to lose herself in the wealth of information in the computer, something Moriah had always been too restless to do. "Sweetness, have we ever used this mechanic on any of our ships before?"

  Celie pushed her golden hair from her face, her dark eyes thoughtful. "Not that I recall."

  Moriah tapped her foot. She knew Radd from somewhere…Why couldn't she remember? Usually she had a holographic memory. She did know he was a legitimate mechanic, and a good one, because they'd made inquiries before commissioning him. Besides, he was the only one willing to take the job.

  Curse Sabin Travers and his ship to the Fires. What should have been a routine deal was becoming riskier by the millisecond. The longer they remained on Intrepid, the greater the risk of drawing attention to themselves. And the greater the danger of Sabin or Turlock or Pax or any number of others catching up with them.

  "Celie, you're sure this mechanic is performing the correct repairs on the ship?"

  "As best as I can tell. I've checked his work every time he takes a break. The new thruster looks good and appears to be installed correctly. The wiring still has to be done, though, and he says he's waiting on an adaptor kit. He can't get parts for this ship any longer, so he's using parts from a newer model that's similar."

  "Naturally none of the parts we're carrying will work on this junker." Moriah whirled around. "Lionia, I want you and Roanne to take the other ships back to Risa. The longer we stay on Intrepid like sitting echobirds, the greater the danger. Celie will go with you."

  "But I want to stay with you!" Celie protested, jumping up from her seat.

  "I don't want to leave you alone," Lionia argued, stroking the hilt of her dagger. "You might need assistance."

  "I can handle anything that comes up. I don't want to risk losing this shipment. We've got the majority of it on the other two ships. We have to consider the good of the group, and get the merchandise to Risa. As soon as this ship is repaired, I'll be right behind you."

  "If that is your order," Lionia conceded grudgingly. "Then I shall honor it."

  "It is," Moriah answered, eternally grateful that she had once saved Lionia's life. The fierce warrior woman had sworn loyalty and obedience because of the life debt; otherwise, Moriah would have had a battle on her hands. She turned to her sister. "Celie, go with her. I can't finish up here and get away quickly if I have to worry about your safety as well as my own."

  Celie's large brown eyes filled with distress. "But Mori—"

  "Do this for me. Please, sweetness."

  Lionia stepped forward and took Celie's arm. "Your sister is right, little one. She can work much better alone. Come, get ready to leave."

  Celie looked like she might argue further, but shrugged in resignation. "All right. If you think it's best, I'll go with Lionia."

  "I know it's best," Moriah reassured her. "Go change into your rhapha first."

  Celie made a face. "Do I have to? I hate that thing. It fits so tightly across my chest and pushes my breasts up. I feel half-naked!"

  Moriah glanced down at her own rhapha, the dress of choice for all female courtesans from Intrepid's Pleasure Domes. It identified them as members of a unique, elite group that, oddly enough, commanded a considerable amount of respect.

  She and most of the other women wore a variety of disguises when they were planetside, from the religious robes of Shens or other pilgrims, to Trion tunics. The rhapha was their favorite disguise on star bases because it afforded a large degree of protection. The Pleasure Domes brought in a lot of revenue, as well as keeping the soldiers stationed there content.

  Skilled courtesans were highly sought after, and every effort was made to guarantee their protection. No one would dare harm a courtesan, for the legal retribution was shipment to the Controller prison base on Alta, and certain death.

  Lionia, of course, scorned such a feminine disguise; but then, tall and fierce and obviously Zarian, she didn't need the protection of a costume. Sweet, innocent Celie did.

  "You need to put on your rhapha," Moriah insisted. "Just be sure and drape your scarf across your chest. No one needs to see any more than necessary."

  "I'll prepare my ship for takeoff and tell Roanne to do the same." Lionia headed for the hatch.

  "I'll walk out with you." Moriah turned toward her sister. "I have to go check on some things, so this is good-bye for now. As soon as you've changed, go straight to Lionia's ship. I'll feel better once I know you're safely away."

  Celie nodded and hugged her tightly. "Be careful, Mori. Contact me every cycle, okay?"

  Moriah stroked Celie's face. "I will, I promise. Now get ready. I'll see you on Risa in a few cycles."

  She left the ship with Lionia, giving last-minute instructions in a low voice. "Don't unload any of the cargo when you reach Risa. As soon as I arrive, we'll head for Calt. Hopefully Kiah and Marna will have returned, so ready one of their ships to transfer the cargo from this pile of kerani manure."

  Lionia nodded. "A good plan. I'll see to it."

  "Thanks. Give my instructions to Roanne and have her get ready for takeoff. Leave as soon as Celie is on board and then contact me."

  "It will be done." Lionia turned and strode regally toward the other end of the large bay.

  Moriah watched a moment and then circled the ship. The thruster being repaired was on the starboard side. She came around, her attention focused on the young man leaning into the thruster casing.

  Reputed to be one of the best mechanics in the quadrant, he worked with a quiet confidence. She could only hope the repairs would be completed soon. Otherwise, she might have to hijack another ship. She started forward to question him, but a magnasteel grip on her upper arm brought her up short.

  "Well, well. If it isn't Mara/Moriah, liar and thief extraordinaire."

  Adrenaline flooded her at the sound of that deep, familiar voice. She whirled partway around, impeded by the relentless fingers digging into her flesh. Her gaze locked with blazing midnight eyes. Sabin glared back at her, his mouth thinned to an ominous line. He looked bigger and darker than she remembered, the shadow of beard growth accentuating the danger he exuded.

  "And, let me add, a drug trafficker." He spoke slowly and softly, barely checked fury echoing in every deliberate word.

  "Let me go!" She jerked back in an unsuccessful attempt to break his grasp.

  He pulled her forward. "Do you know what the Controllers do to those who carry illegal drugs, Mara/Moriah?"

  She shuddered, well aware of the Controller methods of punishment. She had to dump the bracelet on her arm before Sabin called the authorities. But first, she needed to come up with a story to placate him. Various scenarios flashed through her mind, none of them very convincing.

  "I can explain everything."

  "Don't even try."

  "But you must listen to—" She paused mid-sentence, alarmed by the change in his expression as his attention drifted lower.

  "What's this you're wearing?"

  Glancing down, she realized her scarf had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the generous swell of her breasts above an immodestly low neckline.

  "So you've changed professions," he drawled, his free hand pushing the scarf off her shoulders. "Or perhaps you were a prostitute all along." He brushed his fingers along the emerald Saija silk barely covering her breast. "Nice. I'll have to tell Lani she was wrong about your endowments."

  She swung her free fist as hard as she could. His hand shot up, catching it millimeters from his face. "We'll get to the shackles in just a minute," he promised. He pushed her back against the ship, trapping her arms behind her, holding them in an unbreakable vise with his left hand. His body pr
essed against hers, preventing her from levering free. "But first, I have a few questions."

  "I told you I can explain—"

  "What's this?" His attention had moved downward again. Damn the revealing rhapha, and damn all men! He cupped her right breast, the heat of his touch searing. "So…" he murmured. "I didn't imagine it."

  She stared down stupidly as his thumb rubbed across the distinctive mole on the upper slope of her breast. Her body reacted immediately, her breast swelling to his touch, the nipple pebbling. Frissons of pleasure skittered along her nerve endings.

  Trying not to gasp, she swallowed hard. "Didn't imagine what?"

  "That night in your cabin."

  She looked up, and her heart bolted in her chest at the heated intensity she saw in his eyes. Images swirled through her mind—Sabin lowering his mouth to her breast, his hand moving along her leg. She forced the vision away. She refused to be affected by him, by his touch.

  "No, I didn't imagine this intriguing mole." He continued to stroke her bare skin. She shivered, battling her body's traitorous reaction. "Which also means I didn't imagine you lying naked on your bunk, spreading your legs for me. Playing the whore to draw me into a trap I should have seen coming light-years away."

  His crude words sent heat flaming through her face. But it was the truth behind those words that seared her to the core. Whore. Pax had dragged her to the dredges of the Abyss and back, leaving her forever tainted. She had sworn she'd never again barter her body, and ultimately, her soul. Never again. And yet, with Sabin, she'd done just that. She'd had no choice, she told herself fiercely. If she had to trade her soul in order to ensure the well-being of Celie and the others, then so be it.