Shamara (12 page)

"I think so. Why did we take off so close to that other ship?"

"Because I wasn't about to wait around, giving whoever is after me the opportunity to get to his own ship and follow me."

Or whoever is after me,
Eirene thought, relieved that Vaden and his Leor cohort wouldn't be able to track her.

Jarek sank back and probed his right arm, grimacing. "I don't suppose I could convince you to use your energy to heal my arm?"

Surprisingly, she wanted to. The lines of pain etched on his tired face, the hopeful entreaty in his dark brown eyes, tugged at her like a powerful undertow. She hated to see anyone suffer, especially this man, who seemed to bear the weight of the universe on his broad shoulders.

She quickly shook herself away from the temptation. What was wrong with her? She would never—
never
—reveal her powers to Jarek or anyone else. Not only that, but with her ineptness, she might make his wound worse. At least he'd survive if she used traditional healing methods.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't. I don't have—"

"I know, I know. You're not going to admit you're an Enhancer. Not that I blame you. But it sure would come in handy right now if you'd just be honest."

He definitely didn't allow himself to be swayed from his convictions. He was so different from the selfish, indulgent males of Travan. They only cared about having their own needs met, without concern for the women and children dependent on them.

"I can clean and bandage the wound for you," she offered. "I've had some training in healing."

Gratitude flashed in his eyes. "I'll take you up on that offer."

She wondered if anyone ever did anything for him, or if his entire life had been spent taking care of others. "Where are your medical supplies?" she asked.

He checked the scanners once more before he rose and retrieved bandages and antiseptic from a supply vault in the corridor. He returned to the cockpit, setting the items on a console. "We need to do this here," he said, unfastening the top of his flightsuit and slipping it off. "I have to set our course and monitor the screens." He sat in his chair and pivoted toward her.

Eirene stared at the broad expanse of bare chest, the pale brown nipples, and the flat, muscled planes sliding lower. Awareness of Jarek's masculinity tingled through her. Once again, she couldn't help comparing him to Travan men. He was a male in his prime, fit and firm, so unlike the overweight, flabby men she'd always known.

Unsettled by his effect on her, she turned her attention to the ugly wound on his right arm. She slid her left hand behind his arm to hold it steady. His triceps was firm and smooth, his skin incredibly warm.  Touching him affected her as much as looking at him had, sending tiny shockwaves through her body. Disconcerted, she released the arm like it was a hot ember, scooting back.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is it bad?"

She mentally berated herself for her lack of control. It was serious enough not being able to marshal her powers, but she should at least have her own body under her command. Her self-control was deplorable. How could she ever be a competent healer if she couldn't master basic self-discipline?

She forced herself to focus on the wound. "I can't tell how bad it is yet. I need to clean it first."

She took his arm again, ignoring the feel of warm skin and muscle. The wound was still bleeding, but as she blotted away the blood, she was relieved to see the injury was fairly small. Jarek remained still, although she knew her ministrations must hurt. She worked quickly and efficiently, anxious to put some distance between them. She didn't like the way she continued to respond to him on some deep, primal level.

He's your captor,
she reminded herself fiercely.
He only wants you here because of your powers.

That certainly put their relationship into perspective. He might be more honorable and a far better man than those she knew on Travan, but he was still holding her against her will. And he was planning to use her to achieve his own ends.

She needed to remember that.

*  *  * 

She had the touch of an angel. His arm burned like Hades, but her fingers were cool and gentle. They moved over his wound with practiced ease, tingles of energy pulsing through his skin in their wake. Jarek felt certain the energy flow was unintentional, that Eirene's powers sometimes manifested innately, without her being aware of it.

And, true to form thus far, her nearness affected him physically, sending a rush of desire to his lower extremities. He shifted uncomfortably, forcing himself to concentrate on her face as she worked.

She had beautiful skin, like alabaster Saija silk. Her dark hair, shimmering with copper highlights, created a striking contrast to her face. But it was her eyes that captivated him, as they had from the moment he met her. The deepest blue, like the enchanting lagoons of Vilana, they sparked with intelligence and character.

Exhaustion dulled them somewhat right now, but she still worked competently, and appeared to enjoy using her healing skills. When she was done, he leaned back, taking her hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She tried to tug her hand free, but he tightened his grip, reluctant to end the physical contact.

"You seem to have a flair for healing. Is that why you were so interested in meeting with Darya? To learn more about medicine?"

She paused, and he suspected her wariness of him made her reluctant to reveal anything, especially something as intimate as personal dreams. But she nodded and admitted, "It's what I've always wanted to do. To become a great healer like her. I was hoping she'd accept me into her apprenticeship program."

And he had destroyed that chance, at least for now. He cursed the yoke of responsibility that necessitated uprooting this innocent woman. Plus he'd put her in danger, with every lowlife in the quadrant after him to collect the bounty on his head.

"Perhaps one day your dream will become a reality," he replied, hoping he might eventually be able to give her that.

She tugged against his hold. He let her go, and she gathered the medical supplies, refusing to look at him. "I'll put these away," she murmured, turning toward the entry.

She never made it. A sudden jolt sent the ship listing sharply and hurled her to the floor. Jarek barely managed to stay in his chair. "Damn! Where did that come from?" He swung around and set the external viewers in motion. "Are you all right?"

"I—I think so. What was that?"

He activated the weapons console, already planning evasion tactics. "Felt like a laser blast to me." He checked the external viewers, found his worst fear confirmed. "There's a ship four hundred meters aft. No hail, just an attack."

Eirene scrambled to her feet, her face paling. "Vaden," she whispered.

He whipped around to stare at her sharply. "What?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. What can we do?"

Not a damn thing.
Jarek quickly considered his options. "I don't know. That ship has enough armaments to destroy a good-sized planet." He spun to the main computer and activated Radd's program. It was their only chance. "Get back in your harness."

As she fumbled into the straps, the shrill beep of the subspace transceiver pierced the tense silence. It came in on the universal frequency, which meant the hail wasn't from anyone Jarek knew well. He engaged the comm pad. "Who is this?"

Static crackled and the view screen flickered. An image flashed on with startling clarity: a male, with a massive head, stubby snout, and small glittering eyes.
Turlock.
"Turn on your video transmitter, coward," he sneered, drool slipping down his jowls. "I know it's you, san Ranul."

"You don't know anything," Jarek countered. "Why are you attacking my ship?"

"I saw you fleeing from Elysia, like the weakling Shielder that you are. I haven't forgotten what you did to me seven seasons ago, san Ranul. Only I didn't know who you were then."

Fury rushed through Jarek.  He would have finished the bastard off, if he'd had the chance. But Turlock had fled, and Jarek had been unable to track his ship. He turned to his computer, rapidly entering information on Turlock's ship and scanning Radd's program. "You've got the wrong person."

"That's a sizeable bounty the Controllers have on your head, Shielder. I intend to collect it, and then hang around to witness your execution. I almost had you on Saron, but the idiot I sent after you failed."

So the assailant at the Pleasure Dome had been after Jarek for the Controller reward. "I don't know what you're talking about," he hedged, studying Radd's data. There it was—just what he needed.

"You can deny it, san Ranul, but your hologram has been posted on every planet and star base in the quadrant. I know who you are, and I know it was you at the transport station, with that female. She's a pretty piece. She might like to keep me company while I watch you die."

A small gasp drew Jarek's attention to Eirene. She stared at Turlock's image, revulsion etched on her face. He reached out and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "It's not over yet," he whispered, determined to beat Turlock at his game.

Her huge eyes locked on his face, and she nodded. "I believe you."

Humbled by her confidence in him, he prayed her faith would prove justified. He armed his laser canon, well aware that Turlock's sensors would pick up the energy surge.

"Your pitiful weapons can't hurt me. This ship is indestructible," Turlock boasted. "You're trapped, Shielder. I would advise you not to try anything when we board."

He was right that his ship's special armor couldn't be penetrated by the weapons at Jarek's disposal. Nor could Jarek be certain of outrunning Turlock's ship. But he could put it out of commission, if he could hit the main thruster at just the right angle.

Radd's program, which described every make and model of ship currently in use, also listed each ship's vulnerable points. A direct weapon strike to those areas could either disable or destroy the ship in question. Radd had developed his program specifically for Moriah's women and the Shielders.

According to the data, an armored Starblade interceptor like Turlock’s ship was vulnerable around the main thruster. And Jarek intended to take full advantage. He would strike and then try to speed his own ship out of weapon range.

He figured Turlock would deploy a magnetic grapple to tow him in, and he had to act before that happened. "Hang on," he told Eirene, locking the laser cannon onto Turlock's main thruster.

He discharged the laser and gave his ship full power, traveling away from Turlock's craft. His sensors, along with Turlock's bellow of rage, indicated a direct hit.
Yes!
he thought, the high of victory surging through his veins.

"What did you do?" Eirene asked.

"I hit his main thruster with a laser blast. It should put the ship out of commission. Turlock won't be able to go far until it's repaired. But now we have to put a safe distance between his ship and ours. Come on, come on," Jarek muttered, pushing the limits of his ship.

The ship was sluggish, and he quickly saw the reason why. Turlock's initial volley to halt the craft had done some damage to the starboard side, mainly the storage bay. Not fatal—unless they couldn't get out of Turlock's firing range.

Jarek pushed the ship hard, his sensors indicating Turlock was activating his torpedoes. At least Turlock's ship didn't close the distance, so the laser blast must have done its work on the thruster. Damn! The bastard had just fired a torpedo. "Hang on again."

He nosed his ship into a perpendicular angle to Turlock's craft and arced around. The torpedo changed course with him. He turned at a sharp right angle, priming his cannon for another burst. As expected, the torpedo followed.

He kept changing angles, looking for the best firing position. Slowing slightly, he locked the laser onto the torpedo hurtling toward them. Now or never. He punched the firing pad and nosed the ship a different direction. They saw the explosion port side as they turned, and Jarek released the breath he'd been holding.

"What was that?" Eirene asked.

He looked over, noticing her white-knuckled grip on her armrests. She'd been smart enough not to distract him during the crisis, for which he was grateful. She was quite a trooper. "A torpedo," he said, more calmly than he felt. The adrenaline that had kept him alert and deadly focused was dissipating, leaving him shaken that Turlock had been able to find him so readily and to sneak up on him. What bothered him the most was that Eirene had been in danger.

"Oh," she said, her voice faint.

"We're out of danger for now. Turlock can't follow us." Jarek studied the readouts. "But he managed to do some damage to our ship. We'll need some repairs before we can go to Aldon."

He checked the navigation unit to determine his exact coordinates. He was reluctant to return to Elysia, now that news about his identity and the bounty on his head appeared to be widespread. Any of the star bases would be just as dangerous.

He had another pressing concern: getting together the necessary resources to acquire the equipment on Aldon. That boiled down to gold miterons, the universal currency of choice. He had planned on meeting with Sabin to see if he could help with funds. Jarek knew where Sabin was, and hopefully, Radd would be there as well. "We're heading for Risa," he told Eirene.

"Is it a star base?" she asked.

He was reminded again of how little she appeared to know about the quadrant. She must have lived a very sheltered existence up until now. "No, Risa is a small planet where my friend Sabin and his mate live. Moriah established a settlement there for a small group of women about nine seasons ago. Now men and children live there as well. One of the men there is the best ship mechanic in the quadrant. Radd will be able to fix my ship."

"Has the settlement grown much?" she asked.

"No. It's still quite small. No public transports of any sort."

"Oh." She looked away, obviously disappointed.

She was transparent, unable to hide her feelings. Jarek felt certain she'd been hoping for an opportunity to give him the slip while they were there. She wouldn't find it on Risa. She wouldn't find it anywhere, as long as he could track her. The sooner she accepted that, the better.