The Siren's Call (Fantasy, Science Fiction, Romance) (FORCED TO SERVE) (3 page)

“Yes. I guess being mated to me makes him a defective Siren,” Gwen said, wishing she could be happier about that fact, but instead it made her fear for him more. “I almost wish he would just do what he has to until we can rescue him. If they resell him, no telling where he’ll go next. It’s taken over a week to get this much.”

Ania patted her arm as she slipped the robe off Gwen to hang it up. “Dorian took a great risk in mating himself to you when he knew he was going to be sold as a bonding slave. You must honor his choice, not regret it. He did what he did knowing there would be consequences, but his physical fidelity to you was more important to him.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Gwen growled, pushing the com. “Contact Captain Synar.”

She found herself counting the seconds as she waited, an irritating trait she’d inherited from her father.

“Synar,” he answered.

“Dorian and Sarinnea are on Terris Rein,” Gwen said flatly.

“Are you sure?” Synar asked. “We’re two days journey from there.”

Gwen looked at Ania, who just stared back.

Was she sure? Good question.
Gwen let go of the intercom button, not certain how to answer Synar.

“So am I sure enough to send the Liberator chasing after them there?” Gwen demanded, glaring anxiously at the suddenly stoic female who just stared back and shrugged.

“It was not my vision, so I cannot judge. The better question would be to ask yourself how much you trust your intuition,” Ania suggested.

“You are not being helpful,” Gwen said. “You know I don’t trust myself, but damn it—
I am trying
.”

Ania just shrugged again as Gwen pressed the intercom button to find Synar still patiently waiting for her final answer.

“Yes—I’m sure they’re there. Sarinnea told me in a vision. She’s nearby wherever Dorian is being held,” Gwen said, opting to trust her vision over waiting. “If this is going to keep us from a Peace Alliance mission, I could go alone.”

“No mission is more important than finding Dorian and Sarinnea. We’ll deal with the other when we have our Sirens back,” Synar said. “I’ll have a course laid in immediately.”

“I’ll be on the bridge shortly to brief you on what I saw. Jet out,” she said, letting go of the com.

“Okay—tell me this. Is there any reason I
shouldn’t
trust my vision?” Gwen asked of the wise female she considered both teacher and friend, even though at the moment “torturer” seemed apt as well. “Last week, I didn’t even believe in this intuition crap. Now I’m sending us all on a two-day journey to where I
think
they are, based on a vision I had while I was passed out from a crying jag.”

Ania shrugged. “We’ll only know if you were right when we find them. Intuition is not always precise, but following it usually beats doing nothing. We’ll talk to Malachi to get a second opinion. He’s very intuitive, and I’m trying to teach him to use his innate power for good purposes. Plus he likes you, sort of like the way Jurek likes me. It should help motivate him to be on his best behavior.”

“Do not tell me that. The last problem I need right now is to have a horny demon lusting after me. Let him bond with Ambassador Onin for pity’s sake. She’s still on board,” Gwen said. “It’s not like his host body hasn’t already been there.”

Holding the door open as they left, Ania laughed at Gwen’s crude reference to Conor Synar’s previous status as the Ambassador’s unfeeling mate.

“Synar and I haven’t made time to discuss it, but I agree Malachi’s host body will need an outlet sometime soon,” she conceded, sighing in resignation because she would rather not monitor anyone’s bonding choices. Unfortunately, Malachi was now partly her responsibility. Synar would never have put him in Conor’s body if not for her.

Gwen stopped walking. “Why am I suddenly talking about the bonding requirements of everyone on the Liberator? Damn it. I don’t care. I really don’t.”

Ania laughed, mostly because Gwen’s thoughts on the matter echoed her own. Partly though, she suspected Gwen suddenly cared because she didn’t have a choice. “Dorian cared about such things because a creature’s attitude about bonding is also an indicator of the spirit’s well-being. Now it looks like you’re stepping into your mate’s shoes a little bit in caring for others while he’s gone.”

“Right—like I’m suddenly going to become a spiritual counselor? I don’t think so,” Gwen said sharply.

“Why? There are stranger things. I’m the master of two demons. Never in my wildest mind wanderings had I thought about a close relationship with even one,” Ania said with shrug. “Don’t fight your destiny too hard. Doing so just adds more trials.”

“I don’t care. There is no way I’m going to start listening to everyone’s problems and patting them on the back while they cry about them,” Gwen said, disgusted with the idea. “I’d let you knock me unconscious with your Khalsa hocus-pocus before I’d let myself be reduced to doing that.”

Ania laughed at Gwen’s irritation, wondering what the Creators did have in mind for her. It would undoubtedly be interesting. She smiled at Gwen in anticipation.

“Stop smiling at me like you know I’ll give in, because I’m telling you—it’s not freaking happening. No one is going to make me be sympathetic when I don’t want to be. Hell—I’m not even religious. Ask my parents,” Gwen commanded.

“Just because you don’t openly believe in the Creators, doesn’t mean they don’t still orchestrate your life choices,” Ania said calmly. “Your mate believes in them. Now you share his fate.”

“It doesn’t have to work that way,” Gwen denied, stomping off in the direction of the bridge while Ania laughed at her exit. She lifted a hand in an irreverent salute, feeling vicious and mean, but also justified.

Ania laughed again, but she would have to ask Synar later about what Gwen’s hand signal meant. No doubt something crude given the female’s temper, she thought.

Walking to Medical, Ania smiled about not needing the Liberator’s computer to locate Malachi. Her senses could lead her to him under most any condition. And lately she didn’t even need her senses. Malachi was anywhere on the ship that Boca Ador seemed to be. The two of them were getting quite friendly and it worried Ania more than she was ready to admit or deal with as his appointed keeper.

Truth was that Malachi was being very charming and helpful as he used Conor’s body. The demon was even learning to make himself useful in Medical, no doubt trying to impress the Sumerian female. Ania shook her head at the irony of a creature who had relished cutting off the hands of the Lotharians now trying to focus on healing the occasional wounded crew member.

Such a wide swing of loyalties had the mark of the Creators on it. There was little she could or would do to change the situation, no matter how it seemed at first glance. Ania could see the work of the Creators in Malachi and Boca’s odd friendship.

Ordering Malachi away from the Sumerian female would only interfere with his learning to care about creatures other than himself. But Chiang had better wise up quickly and claim his potential mate, or the Greggor might find himself following the bonding expertise of a two-thousand-year-old demon.

Ania couldn’t see any bonding situation among that trio working out well for any of the creatures concerned. Perhaps Gwen was right. Releasing Malachi to bond with Ambassador Onin might actually be the best solution, but thinking of him with that dark female bothered Ania too. Conor might have thought the female suitable, but Ania knew she was a manipulative and scheming person who sought her own good over the causes she served. It made Issa Onin impossible to be trusted.

Shaking her head at her own indecision, Ania realized she was behaving just like Synar—just like her mate who changed his mind as often as he changed his clothes. Resolving not to let waffling become a flaw in her own character too, Ania set her mind to force Liam into a serious talk at her next opportunity to do so.

Putting a deadline on the discussion would force her to do something proactive to find a suitable solution.

***

After an hour of debate with no solutions, the conference room’s silence was broken only by the frustrated breathing of those gathered to troubleshoot the situation. One by one possibilities were offered and then discarded. The solemn mood of the group showed no signs of improving anytime soon.

The task of merely finding Dorian and Sarinnea was proving as much a challenge as rescuing them would be. Research had revealed to Synar why slave traders were so successful, and why they still prospered even with so many Peace Alliance ships patrolling the registered space in and around planets. It was not good news.

“Terris Rein is heavily populated, and the main city spans a sizable portion of the habitable area. We can start there, going into the center and stretching out the search. The planet has not outlawed owning slaves even though the Peace Alliance continues to encourage them to do so. Slaves are literally everywhere. Documents filed routinely state that no new slaves are being brought to the planet, which means that all new slaves are being purchased from black-market pirates like Xeno,” Synar said, staring at the two women seated across the table from him.

“The Sirens have a distinct energy signature. If we can’t track their ID chips, can we track that?” Ania asked.

“Normally that might have worked, but a Xendrin collar masks the energy of the wearer as well as functioning as a restraining device. A Guardian series rescue ship might have the capacity to run searches to sort out the various frequencies, but ours doesn’t. We could only look for something obvious so long as we don’t have to cross-reference much,” Synar said, frowning. “I chose the Liberator for stealth, not for energy scanning ability. I wasn’t expecting to have to search for abducted crew members. Next ship—I’ll make wiser decisions about computer capabilities.”

“If I saw the buildings again, I’m sure I would know them. I’ve seen them twice in visions,” Gwen said, frowning. “I know that doesn’t help us narrow a location.”

“Call Malachi. Let’s see if he has any new ideas about how to find them,” Ania suggested.

Synar sighed and frowned harder. Resentful, but getting desperate, he pressed the com in the center of the table. “Locate Malachi.”

“Unable to locate identified entity,” the computer replied.

Synar let go of the com and swore.

“He’s not hiding. Stop over-reacting. Locate Boca Ador. He’s probably near her like he always is lately,” Ania said. “If you weren’t always trying to avoid him, you’d know exactly where he is.”

Synar glared. “My irritation is only with why the computer isn’t locating him. I damn well know he’s still onboard. I feel him. So do you.”

“The Liberator is not finding him because it’s reading the ID chip in his physical body, and his body is not his,” Gwen answered, heading off the fight between Synar and Ania she could feel brewing over the demon.

When they got like that, rational thinking eluded both of them. With her new intuition, Gwen also knew their irritation with each other had nothing to do with locating Malachi, but she refused to get involved with helping them figure out how to allow the demon to have a sex life.

She leaned over to the com and smacked it down hard, irritated that she was so aware of the real source of their tension.

“Locate Conor Synar,” Gwen commanded.

“Conor Synar is in his quarters,” the computer answered immediately.

“See? Problem solved,” Gwen said, glaring at both of them. “Have Chiang get one of his engineer-programming nerds to hack the system and cross-reference the name on the chip in the body to come up as Malachi. Or better yet let Medical replace the chip with one registered expressly to Malachi himself.”

“No. He will not be registered. I’ll talk to Chiang. It’s only necessary to track Malachi on the Liberator. I don’t want the demon’s whereabouts to be a matter of open record within the alliance. We told the elders. They’re the only ones that need to know. They understand and agree with my reasoning.”

Synar pushed the com, swallowing his resentment of how much he detested doing what he had to do. But instead of feeling guilty about where Conor really was, he was just angry that the computer was forcing him to a workaround that reminded him of his shame.

“Connect me to Conor Synar,” he ordered.

Several seconds passed before Malachi answered. “Yes. Who is this?”

“The proper way to answer the com is to state your name and ask the reason for the contact,” Synar bit off.

The chastisement and instruction were met with silence, then the com lit again.

“Malachi here. What do you wish, oh master?”

“Come to the conference room by the bridge,” Synar ordered.

“In body or mist form,” Malachi asked, his tone snide.

Synar breathed deeply and fought not to blast the demon with anger. “Always in body unless I stipulate otherwise.”

“Okay. I’ll be there as fast as Conor’s sturdy legs can carry me,” Malachi answered.

Ania looked off so Synar wouldn’t see the amusement lurking in her eyes. He was already angry over the pending discussion about Malachi’s intimate life in Conor’s body. She didn’t need to make him even more upset by siding with the demon humorously. Really, if he would just stop being mad and talk to Malachi, it would alleviate half his concerns.