Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) (29 page)

"What's the meaning of this?"

"You will come with us," one Antek intoned,
his voice as dull as his eyes.

"Why? Where are we going?" Chase demanded
angrily.

A disrupter jabbed his direction silenced
him, and he walked ahead of the guards. Why hadn't he been
released? Surely they had checked his ID by now. But as they shoved
him into another, larger cell, indignation turned to concern. This
sure as hell looked like an interrogation room—and boded no
good.

"Hey!" He whirled as one guard activated the
force field. "What's the meaning of this? I demand to speak with
your superior."

But they ignored him, leaving him to pace
and fume for another hour, before the base commander finally
appeared, along with three Antek guards carrying electrolyzer
rods.

Grossly overweight, the commander wore the
dark brown uniform of a higher official. A black sash stretched
taut across his protruding belly displayed his rank decals and his
recognition awards. His bald head looked small compared to the rest
of his body. He was not an Antek, but then, few highly ranked
officers were. The stupid Anteks were easy enough to dominate
mentally, but not intelligent enough to make decisions.

"Why am I being held?" Chase demanded as the
commander and his guards entered the cell.

The commander's pale, watery eyes fixed on
Chase. "Do not play the fool, Slade," he growled, sauntering
forward. "Did you think you wouldn't get caught? No one evades the
Controllers for long."

His words baffled Chase. "Slade? My name is
Chase McKnight. I'm a registered Controller agent. I gave you my
identification."

"Really, Slade. Did you think we wouldn't
actually check the disk? I'm too smart for that. Now you will
answer some questions about your illegal operations."

Chase refused to retreat as the four
surrounded him. "I'm Chase McKnight. If you really checked my ID,
you'd know that."

The commander's mouth thinned. "Then you
must have given me the wrong disk." He spoke into his wrist
comlink, then gestured toward the observation monitors inset in the
walls. "Watch the screen, Slade. Your disk is being put into the
system now."

Chase looked toward the holo display. A
moment later, his picture flashed on the screen. Beneath it, the
statistics listed him as Galen Slade, wanted for embezzling funds
from major Controller business interests. The reward offered for
his capture: 10,000 miterons.

He gaped at the screen, stunned shock
barreling through him. Someone had altered his identification
records. It could have been done at the main Controller base at
Alta, or any of the regional headquarters that received updates
from Alta and transmitted them to smaller bases and Controller
agents.

Records being altered at Alta seemed a
remote possibility. More likely, it had been done at a regional
facility…such as Odera.

Nessa! The suspicion kicked him in the gut.
Nessa
. She had the skill to bypass security and manipulate
computer files. And she had obviously put them to use for her own
selfish means.

The force of her betrayal sent him reeling.
It hadn't been enough for her to simply have him arrested and steal
his ship. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, his lungs
constricted until he battled for breath.

Oh, no. She had gone for total destruction
of her prey.

Just like Dansan had.

The pain of Dansan's treachery surfaced, as
vivid and real as if it happened only yesterday, instead of three
seasons ago—the old wound ripped open by Nessa's betrayal.

"Now, where were we?" the commander broke
into the melee of Chase's thoughts. "Time for you to answer our
questions, Slade. By force, if necessary."

They closed in around Chase, but his focus
remained on his internal pain. He'd sworn no one would ever
double-cross him again. No one would ever touch him emotionally or
get close enough to hurt him again.

But Nessa had.

* * * *

After they crudely searched her and
confiscated her knife and identification disk, The Anteks took
Nessa to a brig at the command center. The immediate adrenaline
rush she'd experienced had provided the energy necessary for her to
march to the trams, two disrupters focused on her back. She
wondered what they did to ship thieves, although she suspected the
Controller's had only one penalty, encompassing all crimes.

Death.

At this point, she thought, sinking wearily
to the floor of the bare brig in which the guards had shoved her,
it was only a matter of how her death occurred. Either at the hands
of the Controllers or the Orana—whichever came sooner. The fever
had begun to glaze over her fear of dying, but it hadn't abated her
feelings for Chase, or the hurt generated by his actions.

She loved him
.

She knew, with every fiber of her being,
that she loved him.

Having never experienced much love in her
life, her feelings overwhelmed her. She loved Jarek, of course, and
Turi, and had begun to love Raven and Brand. But those feelings
were platonic and maternal, not the intense emotional and physical
cravings inundating her whenever she thought of Chase.

How could she love a shadower, a man who
threatened the existence of her people, her entire reason for
being?

Only Spirit knew. Yet the fact existed. She
loved Chase. He had looked at her with nothing but condemnation in
his eyes, then turned her over to the Anteks. On one level, she
knew his reaction was logical. She
had
stolen his ship, but
only when all other options had failed.

Yet on a more emotional level, she had hoped
he'd look deeper for the reasons behind her action, be willing to
listen, and forgive. She'd hoped he loved her in return. How
foolish. She needed only to look in a mirror or suffer through a
seizure to be reminded she had nothing to offer.

Sounds outside her cell drew her attention.
She rolled to a sitting position, her heart pounding, as three
Antes heaved Chase into the chamber. Groaning, he stumbled and
collapsed on the floor. A fourth man, obviously not an Antek,
stepped to the entry.

"Your partner in crime, returned to you," he
gloated.

Nessa stared at Chase, appalled by the welts
visible on his face and through his torn flightsuit. She looked at
his tormentor. "But why—"

"He had an aversion to answering questions.
I would advise you to cooperate when it is your turn."

"But he's a shadower. He works for the
Controllers," she protested, perplexed and alarmed.

A sneer quirked the man’s face. "We are not
fooled by that story. Our system provided a positive identification
on him. We know who he really is. And he will answer our questions
eventually, probably the next session."

The man took a threatening step closer. "As
for you, your identification is also false. There are no
corresponding records, either to your ID disk, or your voice and
hand prints. Your turn at questioning is coming, citizen. I would
begin now, but more pressing matters demand my attention."

He stepped back and a guard activated the
field. Nessa scrambled awkwardly across the cold, slimy floor to
Chase. Horror knotted in her chest as she stared at his puffy,
bruised face. Gingerly, she touched his cheek, drawing back when he
moaned. This was all her fault.

She forced herself to her feet and over to
the container of rancid drinking water in the corner. She jerked at
the hem of her tunic, trying to tear off some fabric, cursing her
weakness. Finally, she used her teeth and ripped a strip loose. She
dipped it in the water and returned to Chase.

Cradling his head carefully in her lap, she
battled her own shakiness while she dabbed gently at the welts on
his face. She didn't worry about him catching the Orana, because
the latest research reported in IAR indicated the virus had been
engineered solely for Shielders. They appeared to be the only ones
susceptible to its heinous destruction.

After a few moments, Chase groaned and
stirred and opened his eyes. He looked at her, confused and
unfocused at first. Then recognition chilled his expression.

"You!" he spat, twisting away and sitting
up. "The bastards must have killed me, and I'm in the bowels of the
Abyss." He groaned again, pressing his hands to his chest and
wincing. "I hurt too much to be dead."

"What did they do to you?"

His head snapped up, his furious glare
impaling her. "Why should that matter to you, traitor? You did this
with your computer manipulations. You should be well pleased." A
mocking smile appeared on his grim face. "Except it backfired on
you, didn't it?"

His pain, both mental and physical, shook
her to the core. She reached toward him. "Chase, I'm sorry—"

"Save it," he snarled. "Shut up and get out
of my sight, before I decide to put you out of my miserable
existence." He turned from her and rising, staggered to the
water.

The force of his hatred shuddered through
Nessa. She'd made her choices, and she'd have to live with them,
live with the emotional pain ravaging her now. Crawling to the
corner near the entry, she huddled there, shivering from internal
chills and the damp, stone floor. The horrendous stench of the brig
threatened to gag her.

That faded as the need to stay alert
declined, and she surrendered to her weakened condition. She dozed
off, drifting through disturbing images and memories. The tread of
boots and harsh voices stirred her from her stupor, and she forced
her heavy eyelids open.

"Move along, citizen!" a guttural Antek
voice ordered. Nessa watched several sets of booted feet cross her
line of vision of the corridor, two of them shackled and shuffling
slowly.

"We're going as fast as we can," hissed a
voice…a familiar one.

She roused herself enough to sit up and
study the men passing by. One of them stumbled and turned to glare
at the Antek who had shoved him. Shock reverberated through Nessa
when she saw his face. Jarek! Jarek here, in this prison.

Gasping, she scrabbled up the wall to stand
and stare after them. "Jarek," she whispered, knowing she mustn't
get his attention. He would only worry about her, when he needed to
get himself free. Any shred of hope that had been remaining in the
universe for her disintegrated at that moment.

"Someone you know?" Chase asked bitingly
from behind her.

She turned slowly, still stunned, to face
him. He sat against the opposite wall, his arms resting on his
upraised knees. She didn't answer, but he must have seen the truth
in her face.

"Obviously, this one didn't fall for your
lies. After all, you still had your virginity when you plied your
wiles on me."

She pushed back the pain his jab generated.
She had to think, to concentrate. There must be some way she could
help Jarek. Chase would certainly never offer assistance, even if
she could trust him.

"By the fires! You look awful," he snapped.
"Go back to your corner, before you fall down."

She couldn't do that. She had to think of a
way to help Jarek first. But the heat burning her body threatened
to disintegrate her. Eying the water container longingly, she
staggered toward it. Those few steps sapped her remaining
energy.

She sank down by the trough and rested her
face on the edge, willing the strength to drink. Not even the
putrid odor rising from the scum floating on the water bothered
her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Chase
snarled from behind her.

He slid one arm across her midriff and
helped her sit up. Cupping the other hand, he dipped it into the
water and lifted it to her parched lips. She slurped it, as weak as
a baby lanrax. He repeated the offering several times, until she
sank back against him with a sigh.

"You're burning with fever." He lowered her
to the stone floor.

Tepid water splashed against her face and
chest. She lay there, too exhausted to move, while he sloshed more
water from the container onto her. Why was he helping her?

He ripped open the front of her tunic,
exposing her burning skin to the dank air. Startled, she opened her
eyes and stared at his granite face. His eyes blazed with a barely
restrained fury. Unable to confront the condemnation she saw there,
she closed her eyes again.

More water dribbled across her chest and
down her rib cage. She could feel the steamy heat rising from her
body, smell the musty odor of disease. Several more handfuls of
water drenched her thoroughly before Chase closed her tunic.

She curled to her side, drifting in and out
of awareness, her thoughts shifting from Chase to Jarek. She just
needed to rest, to reserve her strength, she told herself. If she
managed to get released, then she could take action to help
Jarek.

A sudden spasm of chills jolted her from her
daze. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering
uncontrollably. Her eyes flew open when Chase's arms slid around
her. He hauled her against him, pressing her face against his chest
and throwing one leg over both of hers to keep her still.

His heat seeped through her damp tunic,
counteracting the coldness racking her. Even through her
grogginess, she understood he did it only to head off the danger
from a chill contracted after a high fever. His next embittered
words verified that fact.

"I don't even know why I'm doing this. You
will pay for your lies and treachery, Nessa. I promise you
that."

She was already paying, with a higher price
than he could begin to imagine.

* * * *

She must have slept eventually. The scream
woke her, intruding into the welcome oblivion. She jolted awake,
bewildered.

"No!" the tormented voice cried. "Not
Chandra! She can't be dead." A groan echoed through the chamber,
then, "No! Not another one. Spirit, you have to help me. Help me
save them… no!"