Into the Fire
=============






by




Norma McPhee
============











Published by LTDBooks
=====================



ISBN 1-55316-030-4
==================



Copyright © 2001
================








www.ltdbooks.com






Copyright © 2001 Norma McPhee
=============================






Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1,
Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1

All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced,
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent
of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.






Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data
========================================



McPhee, Norma, 1968-
====================


Into the fire [computer file]

Mode of access: World Wide Web.


ISBN 1-55316-030-4
==================



I. Title.
=========





PS8575.P437I57 2000 C813'.6 C00-932711-8
========================================



PR9199.3.M32I57 2000
====================







Table of Contents
=================


About the Author

About the Publisher

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Excerpts






PROLOGUE
========






You are about to delete the files,

the computer said. Kerra had muted the calm, cultured, maddening voice.
Still, the words echoed hauntingly in her mind. Delete the files. Such a
cold, unfeeling phrase. Destroying her work was like ripping out her own
still-beating heart. Still, what choice had they left her?


Had they really believed she would not find out? Or thought she wouldn't
care?


Please reenter password and personal identification code for confirmation.

Kerra's fingers flickered over the keypad. The warning winked out only to
be replaced by an equally soulless message.Access approved. Files deleted.

Kerra closed her eyes, leaning her head wearily back against the chair's
headrest. So far, so good. But this was just the beginning.

She needed to find every backup, every note she'd made, every last trace
of her research into neural biosynthesis. But the longer she lingered,
the deeper she delved into the system's protected levels, the greater the
chance her tampering would be detected.

It took hours. Kerra used to get lost in her work, time passing
unnoticed. Tonight she felt the passing of every second.

Kerra bit her lip, tasting blood, as the warning flashed one last time.
Her hand trembled so hard she missed the delete key twice before making
the final, fatal stab.

Now her work was finished.






CHAPTER 1
=========


Aden couldn't remember the last time he'd been this drunk. Then again, he
couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such a driving need to kill as
many brain cells as possible. Sure, spending what few credits he had left
on putrid-smelling booze in the seediest, slimiest excuse for a tavern to
be found on this sorry ball of rock was a pretty stupid thing to do, but
what was one more act of idiocy on top of everything else?

Vaia'd warned him not to take this job. Said anyone who accepted a
contract to run contraband into the Divras system was looking for an
early, forced retirement without pension, if not an early grave. He'd
laughed. Told her she was getting old and soft.

Ha! The only thing getting soft was Aden's head. By a miraculous
combination of skill, daring, and blind luck, he'd managed to land his
ship in one piece after a shot from a Divran security ship took out his
main drive. That had been the last bit of luck he'd had. Thank the stars
the nature of the illegal shipment had been relatively benign, and they'd
considered seizing his ship, weapons and documents enough.

It could just as easily have been his life or his freedom as his ship, he
realized darkly.You're pushing the odds, said a voice in the back of his
head.Pushed 'em too damned hard, this time. Half the smugglers working
back when Aden started out were either imprisoned or dead now, the ones
who weren't mostly retired.

Aden shook off the thought. Damned if he was going to hang it up when he
hadn't even hit forty.

He might not have a choice, now, he knew. Stuck on a planet where the
government controlled everything from commerce to the sciences to where
people were allowed to pee, a guy like him was as good as in prison. He
still didn't know how they'd found him out. His false papers had been
prepared by the very best in the trade, his cargo hold rigged to give
false readings if scanned. Still, those damned security boats had been
sitting there when he came in just as if they'd been waiting for him.

"Right, Locke. First stupidity, now raging paranoia. Face facts. You got
caught because you've lost the edge." He glared balefully down into the
murky green depths of his drink. "I'm almost tempted to let you go on
believing that."

At the sound of that soft, familiar voice Aden's blood froze. Gandes.
Here. It wasn't possible...

"Surprised to see me, Locke? Did you really think you could get rid of me
so easily?" He slipped out of the shadows - a tall, gaunt skeleton of a
man, his thinning reddish hair slicked close to his scalp, making his
angular features seem even more skull-like. He carried two blasters
openly, one on his hip and another in a forearm holster, and a dagger
thrust brazenly through his belt. Stars only knew what he had concealed.

He eased into the seat across from Aden like they were old friends,
appropriating Aden's half-finished drink. "Seven years I rotted in that
putrescent dungeon, planning what I'd do when our paths crossed again."
His light, conversational tone was at odds with the chill malice in his
eyes. "It's not quite as bad as what you did to me - but then, I'm not
finished with you yet."

"Get out of my sight, you miserable baby-raper." Aden's fingers itched
with the need to wrap them around Gandes' scrawny throat.

Gandes laughed, a sound out of a child's nightmare. "Come now, Locke.
Jannia was hardly a baby. She was old enough to be in the business, after
all."

"She was fifteen," Aden spat back. "Just a green, innocent kid. What
happened to you when Vaia left wasn't her fault. If there were any
humanity left in you...."

"If there is, it's no thanks to your precious Vaialora." The twist of
Gandes' lip made the name an obscenity. "She knew what she'd done to me.
What do you call that, if not rape?"

"An accident," said Aden softly, not really expecting Gandes to listen.
"She wasn't raised as a Kethrian. She didn't know."

"She might have tried to help me," Gandes said. "Instead she discarded me
like a burned-out power cell."

"That doesn't excuse what you did." Aden wondered why he bothered. It
wasn't like Gandes was capable of anything as human as remorse. "You
brutalized an innocent kid and left her for dead. It took months to heal
her."To heal the physical wounds , Aden added silently. There had been
other wounds he didn't think would ever heal.

Gandes smiled coldly. The same smile Aden knew still haunted Jannia
Wise's nightmares. "You're right, of course. It was Vaia herself I should
have punished for deserting me, but she wasn't there that night. In your
bed, wasn't she?"

Aden stared at the small wet ring where his drink had been and said
nothing. There was nothing Gandes could say that would make him feel
worse about that business than he already did. He'd known sleeping with
his ex-partner that night was a mistake. He hadn't known until too late
how big a mistake.

"This time I'll do it properly," Gandes continued. "Get the right bitch.
Make her suffer as I've suffered all these long years." He paused a
moment, considering. "Of course, I'll also have to deal with sweet Miss
Wise, since she did take part in that little sting of yours."

He rose, leaning across the table, his cold, mad eyes boring into Aden's
own. "That will be my parting gift to you. The knowledge of what awaits
your precious friends, while you languish here, unable to help even
yourself. I'll send you a little souvenir. A lock of Jannia's lovely
raven hair. Or maybe even the entire scalp."

Gandes left then, but his gloating laughter seemed to linger in the air,
a mocking echo in the back of Aden's mind.

Aden's stomach twisted, and it wasn't from the alcohol. He wanted to go
after Gandes, to stop him, but knew it was futile. Gandes, as he always
had, wore a whole arsenal on his scarecrow-lean form. Aden's weapons had
been seized along with his ship. As tempting as it might be to take on
Tral Gandes with his bare hands, suicide wouldn't help his friends.





Kerra was returning from a quick, furtive trip to buy certain feminine
necessities she couldn't get delivered, when she'd spotted them, standing
in the doorway of the dilapidated transient hostel she'd called home for
the last few weeks. A tall, thin male and a heavyset, colorless female,
both cold-eyed and stone-faced - she'd known at a distance what they
were, even before they flashed their credentials in the hostel
proprietor's face. Internal Security.

Now she huddled behind a pile of refuse in a narrow, foul-smelling alley,
wondering where she could possibly go from here.

She was quickly using up the store of tricks she'd learned from the
holovids and romantic adventure novels, which had been her main
distraction from her rather solitary life at the Science Ministry
installation. She was running out of ideas. If she didn't find a way
offworld soon, they were going to find her. Find her, bring her back, and
make triply sure that she never slipped through their fingers again.

What she needed was a - what were they called again? A fencejumper. That
was what they called them in the holovids. Men and women who flew fast,
heavily armed cargo ships in and out of places no one else would go,
carrying goods someone wanted or needed badly and someone else would
prefer they not receive. People who risked their lives and their freedom
- for money.

Well, Kerra had money enough. She'd downloaded her entire credit file.
Nearly every credit she'd made in all the years since the Science
Ministry had taken her from her family. To protect her, they'd said. From
the sort of accident that had destroyed her mother's potential.

What use had she had for money when she was never allowed to go anywhere?
Surely she had enough by now to satisfy even the most mercenary of
fencejumpers, and it was all stored electronically on one little datachip
small enough to be worn on a slender chain beneath her clothing.

Finding her fencejumper - that was the problem. Pilots-for-hire who
operated outside the law probably didn't advertise in the local service
directory.

In fact, the only way there was likely to be any record of one on
official channels was if -

It was worth a try. After all, at this point she had very little left to
lose.






"Captain Locke? Captain Aden Locke?"
====================================


Aden raised his eyes from the untouched drink into which he'd been
staring and glared at the creature who'd dared disturb him. It had been
so tempting to simply go back to drowning his brain cells, but he
couldn't do it. It was one thing when the only life at stake were his,
but...

"Captain Locke?" his tormentor repeated, more tentatively this time. It
was a child, a boy, not much older than six or seven. Way too young to be
in here.

"This is no place for a kid, son," Aden said. "I'm nobody for a kid to be
talking to, for that matter."

"But the lady said to give you this." The child held out a scrap of
paper, once neatly folded - Aden could see the original creases - but now
badly stained and crumpled. It looked like it had shared the kid's pocket
with a half-eaten cookie and several dead bugs.


Aden ignored it. "What lady?"
=============================


"Just a lady," said the kid impatiently.

That could mean any female over the age of twelve on the whole blessed
planet. "Did this lady happen to have a name?"

"Not that she told me, Cap'n."

With a grunt of displeasure Aden took the note and shook it open. The
text was concise:I need a pilot, you need a ship. Meet me at Dock 34,
17:30 hours.

Aden's first instinct was to give the message back to the kid and tell
him to throw it into the recycler. It could only be a trick, a way for
Gandes to torture him a little more by raising his hopes only to have
them shatter like a child's toy hit with a blaster beam. Nobody was going
to hire a smuggler who'd been caught and lost his ship. It was absurd.
Ridiculous. Crazy.

It was also the only thing resembling a chance he was likely to get.

"Captain?" the kid prompted.

Aden dug into his pocket and pulled out a couple of coins, which he
dropped in the boy's outstretched hand. As the boy dashed off, Aden gave
his drink one last scowl and pushed it away.

He read the message over at least a dozen times, studying it - the
phrasing, the handwriting, the weight of the paper and the color of the
ink - looking for the stamp of Gandes' twisted style and failing to find
it. Just a simple note in a vaguely feminine hand on plain, unlined white
paper.

All singularly unrevealing. The only way Aden was going to find anything
out was to make the rendezvous. If it was a trap, he'd find out soon
enough.





Kerra powered down theTalya 's computer, smiling in satisfaction. The
ship was hers - well, Captain Locke's. A private yacht belonging to some
wealthy dilettante, it had seen the top side of Divras Four's atmosphere
a total of twice in the past ten years. It had been a simple matter to
tap into the spaceport files and change the name on the ship's documents
to that of the false identity she had already established for Captain
Locke.

Her conscience experienced an uncomfortable twinge at the thought of
stealing the vessel, but it wasn't as if the owner had valued it. It
might be months or years before he even realized it was gone.

What worried Kerra most was their false identities. Sure, she'd worked
with computers all her life. They'd been the tools of her trade, and her
only link to the world outside the lab. But she'd certainly never used
one to forge documents before. Heck, in the past few days she'd done
quite a few things she had never expected to try.

She glanced at the ship's chronometer. 17:24.

A tall, rough-looking man was waiting for her when she emerged from the
ship's main hatch. He greeted her with a curt nod before gesturing toward
the ship. "Fancy. But does she have any teeth?"

"Not so fast." Kerra said. "Your name, if you don't mind? And I.D. if
they left you any."

"Aden Locke. I believe you're expecting me." He reached into his pocket
and pulled out a datacard, then watched warily as she scanned it.

The text that scrolled across the card's surface indicated that this was
indeed Aden Locke, and that he wasn't eligible to own a weapon, to pilot
any orbital, suborbital, or extraplanetary craft, or to conduct any form
of commerce while on Divras Four or in Divran-controlled space. Kerra
nodded, satisfied, and handed the card back to him.

He certainly didn't look like Internal Security, but she'd had to make
sure. Though what she'd have done if he had been she couldn't have said.

"The ship," Locke prompted. "Is she just another pretty face, or does she
have some firepower?"

Kerra shrugged. "She has defensive guns and standard shielding, and a
good fast engine. She'll get us off the planet."

"Us?" He raised one eyebrow.

"That's the job. Fly the two of us off this planet and drop me off
somewhere obscure and safe. The ship is yours to keep, over and above
whatever you consider a reasonable fee."

Captain Locke leaned against the ship's port engine pod and studied
Kerra. It was not a comfortable experience. His ice-blue eyes seemed to
bore into her very soul, but betrayed no clue as to what they saw there.
He was an intimidating man - tall and unshaven, with wide, powerful
shoulders. Scuffed pants of black leather hugged his well-toned thighs,
and a loose black shirt hung open almost to the navel, revealing a broad
expanse of chest that the word "muscular" couldn't begin to describe. His
long, sandy hair hung loose around his shoulders, with one stray lock
slipping forward from the rest to hang down just over his left eye. He
wore no weapons - they would have been seized along with his original
ship - but he seemed no less dangerous for their lack.

He didn't bear much resemblance to the heroes of her beloved holovids.
With his dark clothing and rugged appearance, he looked more like one of
the villains.

The kind of villain who'd be a serious danger to the heroine's virtue.
Kerra's heart skipped a beat.

"So, what's the catch?" Captain Locke's voice was a low, lazy drawl.

"Catch?" Kerra asked.

"Obviously there's a reason why you need someone of my talents - someone
who doesn't mind bending a few inconvenient laws. You need to get
offworld, and fast. Just what kind of trouble are you in?"

"Does it matter?" Kerra tried to sound worldly and casual, with mixed
success. No, no point in kidding herself. She failed miserably.

"Yes, it matters. I don't work blind. The more I know about what I'm
dealing with, the better I can deal with it. If that's a problem..." He
let his voice trail off, but Kerra had no trouble hearing what he didn't
say.

Kerra nodded reluctantly. If he turned and ran after hearing her out, she
probably wouldn't blame him. "Have you been following the newsvids?
You've heard about a scientist who's wanted by Internal Security for
stealing top-secret military research?" Captain Locke's eyes widened, but
Kerra continued before he had a chance to speak. "That was me. But I
stole nothing. I erased it. Every copy, every file, every note. It was my
own work, and it was never intended as a weapon." Her throat burned as
she spoke the words, but she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't.

Sweet shit,Aden swore inwardly, his heart coming up to lodge somewhere
just south of his adam's apple.This kid's going to get me killed.

He should have walked away, should have washed his hands of the girl and
her problems and gone back to washing away his sorrows in a river of
rotgut. He'd wanted a way out of this impossible situation, but he hadn't
been planning to do it by dying.

A single tear slipped from the corner of the girl's eye. Aden wasn't sure
she even noticed it.

Damn.

With that solitary, orphan tear, suddenly she was real.

For the first time, he realized how small she was. Had she not been
standing on the ramp leading up into the ship, she would only have come
up to his chest. Her fine-boned, delicate build was saved from
pixyishness only by an unfashionable but not unappealing roundness at
breast and hip. She was, he realized, very young. From what he knew about
how things were done on this world, she had probably spent most of her
life cloistered in some godforsaken Science Ministry think tank.

Her disguise - the orange-striped hair, darkened skin and mirrored lenses
virtually screamed "disguise" - wouldn't fool a maintenance robot.

Get him killed - she very well might. Get herself killed, without his
help - that was a given. And he did need a ship.

"Thirty thousand," he said. "Up front. And you pull your weight - do what
I say when I say it, and save your questions for later. If you managed to
purge protected files from a government system, you're obviously good
with computers. We'll need that, since I don't think this gilded crate of
ours has the firepower to shoot our way out of a bad situation. Now, show
me what we've got to work with."





"I still wish we had the time and resources to upgrade the weapons and
shields." Captain Locke sighed, sliding his long form into the pilot's
seat four hours later. "The engines are the best that money can buy, but
it's pretty clear that this was never a working ship."

"But that's good, isn't it?" Kerra asked. "I mean, wouldn't they get
suspicious if a pleasure craft had state-of-the-art offensive weaponry
and combat shielding?"

"There are ways of concealing illegal upgrades if you know what you're
doing, Doc." The Captain had called her Dr.Telsier for a grand total of
about three minutes. "Still, you've got a good point. I just feel kind of
naked on a ship without teeth."

Unbidden, an image of Captain Locke sitting naked in the pilot's chair
flashed across the screen of Kerra's imagination, and blood rushed hotly
to her cheeks. Her nerves were doing strange things to her mind.

"Did you finish the adaptations on those false I.D.'s?" he asked her.
"They have to match our disguises dead on."

Kerra nodded. "I still don't think you look old enough to be my father,
even with the gray in your hair."

"Thanks, Doc, but remember, they marry young on Aldera, and you're small
enough and cute enough to pass as a schoolgirl - if girls on Aldera were
allowed to go to school, that is. Just remember to keep your veil on, and
let me do the talking. Think meek and submissive. I beat you regularly to
keep you that way."

Kerra remembered her own father, a big, husky bear of a man whose rough,
callused hands had felt so gentle and loving each time he touched her. In
leaving Divras Four, she was giving up any chance of ever seeing him, or
her mother, again. As well, she decided regretfully. How could she face
them, knowing she'd destroyed the very research that could have helped
her mother live a normal life again?

Kerra glanced back over at Captain Locke in the seat beside her. His skin
was now darkened to the same dusky shade as her own, his hair black with
streaks of gray, his blue eyes disguised with brown lenses. Her coloring
now matched his, less the gray hairs, and her features were further
obscured by a gossamer veil that covered her nose and mouth, as well as
most of her hair.

"We should have straightened that hair, I guess, but I couldn't bring
myself to do it," Locke confessed. Not knowing what to say, Kerra kept
silent.

"Okay, let's get this bucket airborne. Do you believe in God, Doc?"

Kerra gave an eloquent shrug. "My father taught me to. I suppose I still
do, deep down."

"Good enough. I don't, so you'll have to do the praying for both of us."





"Normally," Aden said as they rose through the planet's atmosphere, "I'd
avoid the checkpoint, fly out under cloak, and be prepared to fight my
way out if they managed to detect me. But since we don't have a cloak, or
any weapons worthy of the name, we're going to have to be clever. These
people are looking for you; they'll be more suspicious of any outgoing
ship than they might normally be."


Kerra nodded. "Captain - what if I could make it look like I was on
another ship?"


"What do you mean?" Aden was certainly open to suggestions.

"I could project a false life sign reading. Maybe even plant the
documents for my original false identity - the one you said they'd see
right through - in their computer. It just might confuse the checkpoint
authority long enough for us to get through."

Aden stared at her, surprised at her ingenuity. "You can do that? Without
a direct line into the other ship's system?"

"I can tight-beam an electronic signal across space straight from our
computer to theirs as long as there are no large physical barriers
between us. The trick is to keep it from being detected. I suppose we
could disguise it inside a normal communications signal, but that might
make our target suspicious, being hailed by total strangers - "

"Doc," Aden cut in softly, "call up the port manifest. We want the names
of all other ships cleared for launch around the same time we were.
There's a slim chance - " If they'd bothered to repair the main drive
before selling her, instead of just scuttling his poor baby for parts...

Kerra's gaze flicked toward him, her expression doubtful, but she did as
he asked. The list scrolled up the tiny screen almost too swiftly for the
human eye to follow. Still, Aden spotted what he was looking for,
freezing the screen with the punch of a single key. He grinned wickedly.
"I was wrong, Doc - there is a God." He stabbed a finger at the display.
"There. That one. I knew that bastard couldn't resist!"


"Red Lion. Wasn't that - "
==========================


"My ship! My own blasted ship! He probably bought her at auction for a
fraction of what she's worth - with that ship he could fly right into
Beckhaven Station free and clear. Her arrival would set up a flag in the
Net for Vaia and Jannia - they'd come right into his waiting arms,
expecting it to be me! Thatbastard - that's the ship, Doc. And I know
just what to say to the creep."






"You got the package ready, Doc?"
=================================



Kerra nodded. "You're not going to identify yourself, are you?"
===============================================================


Captain Locke shot Kerra an offended look. "Gandes'll know who the
message is from. That's what I'm counting on. If this goes the way I
planned it, we might not even have to pass a visual check." He grinned
devilishly, looking more like a holovid pirate than ever. "Heads up, Doc.
We're approaching the checkpoint. I'll let you know when we have
line-of-sight on theLion ."

Kerra's heart pounded so hard that she half expected it to burst free
from her body. This was it - there was no Plan B, and the thought of how
many things could go wrong with Plan A made her head spin.

"There she is, Doc. Wait - wait. There. Prepare to transmit when I start
talking."

Kerra's fingers hovered over the send key, her eyes on Captain Locke.

He hailed his former ship, not bothering to await an answer. "Hello,
Gandes. Just wanted you to know that you've failed, as usual." He nodded
to Kerra, who activated the data beam. "Then again, you've always been a
loser. That was why Vaia left you - you weren't man enough for her. They
shouldn't have called what you did to Jannia rape. They should have
called it assault with a dead weapon."

Before Aden had even finished speaking, Gandes' ship veered off from the
immense bulk of the checkpoint station. The sensors on Kerra's panel
indicated that theRed Lion was bringing its entire powerful arsenal to
bear on theTalya's undershielded hull.

Just when Kerra was certain that her companion had made a horrible,
suicidal mistake, sleek one- and two-man security boats poured out of the
station and swarmed around the little freighter like hornets around a
piece of rotting fruit.

"They've taken the bait," Kerra hissed. "Let's get out of here."






CHAPTER 2
=========


"So tell me about this research of yours. Why risk both our lives to keep
it out of your government's hands?" Aden leaned back in his seat, closing
his dry, stinging eyes. This had to be the worst hangover in recorded
history.

As if that weren't bad enough, he was paying for the danger-induced
adrenaline rush with bone-deep exhaustion. But he couldn't rest, not yet.
There was still a course to be plotted. Work to be done on the weapons
and shielding. He'd have to rip out both systems and start from scratch
when he got the chance, but in the meantime there was probably some
makeshift augmentation he could do. Maybe the Doc would have some ideas.
From what he'd seen so far, she was nothing if not resourceful.

"It was a medical procedure," Dr. Telsier said.

Aden's eyes snapped open in startlement. She'd hesitated so long before
answering his question he'd half-forgotten asking it. "What kind of
medical procedure?"

"A new treatment for neural damage using synthetic organics." Her soft
voice was blank, dead, devoid of any pride in her accomplishment.

"Synthetic organics?" Aden asked. "What's so damned subversive about
that? I have half a dozen friends who've had body parts replaced by
synthorgs."


"Spinal columns? Damaged sections of brain?"
============================================


"Of course not. Everybody knows that's impossible. Synthorg nerve
structures that complex would start to break down within days." This time
Aden did detect a smug gleam in the Doc's eye. "Don't tell me you
actually found a way around that?"

"By completely reinventing the technology from the ground up," she
confirmed. "The flaws that led to the neural degradation were intrinsic
to the original procedures."

"So why did you have to delete the research?" Aden asked. "Somebody have
other ideas about how to use it? The newsvids called it a military
secret."

"They government laboratory that sponsored my work did have a military
mandate," Telsier admitted. She shook her head, as if unable to believe
her own stupidity. "I was naive enough to think they were looking for a
way to cure neural damage inflicted on soldiers in the line of duty. But
what they really wanted was to create living neural systems from scratch.
To build a new kind of soldier from the ground up, designed and
programmed to have no purpose in life other than to obey orders. To
create an abomination with no soul, no conscience. I couldn't allow that.
Not even if it meant my work can never be used for its intended purpose."

"That can't have been any easy choice to make," Aden offered quietly.

"It was the hardest thing I have ever done." Her voice had fallen almost
to a whisper. Her eyes looked lost, haunted. Aden wanted to take the girl
into his arms, to hold and stroke and comfort her. It was an alien
sensation, this powerful tenderness. It caught him off guard, stealing
the breath from his body. He wanted to flee, to run, to put half the
galaxy between them as fast as possible. But right now, there was nowhere
to go.

Nowhere very far, at any rate. He rose, making a show of stretching, and
headed for his cabin, pausing only briefly at the hatchway leading off
little ship's bridge. "I think I'm going to go put my own face back on,
Doc. You might want to do the same. 'Cause I'm beginning to doubt you
could pass for a meek, submissive Alderian girl after all."





The face staring back at Kerra from the mirror in her quarters was, at
last, her own. The thick, frothy tumble of golden curls never seemed to
do what she wanted it to - Captain Locke's words came back to her,
eliciting an involuntary blush.

Her hair had always seemed like a curse to her, forever falling into her
eyes when she was trying to work, tangling mercilessly when she tried to
brush it out. Yet Captain Locke,

so meticulous in every other element of their disguises, had felt
compelled to leave her her curls. It was incomprehensible.

And yet - she could have sworn that there had been a moment, just before
he'd left the bridge, when he had looked at her as if...

No.

It wasn't possible. It was foolishness even to let the thought enter her
mind. How could a man like Aden Locke feel any attraction to someone like
her? Raised half her life on some run-down old farm and the other in a
cloistered research facility that might as well have been a convent, she
was probably the least worldly, least glamorous person he'd ever
encountered.

Her skin, milk-pale from too little time in the sunshine, seemed all the
whiter now that she had grown accustomed to the dusky false pigment. Only
her eyes gave her face any trace of color. Blue. Nothing exotic there.

No, any beauty Aden might see in her came only from the fact that she had
provided the means of their mutual escape. Was she really so love-starved
as to start projecting romantic fantasies on the first attractive male
she ran into?

Turning away from the mirror, Kerra rose and crossed the width of the
cabin that had become hers by default, Captain Locke having appropriated
the larger one. It hardly mattered. There was little significant
difference between the two; both had seemed ridiculously plush for a
scruffy-looking fencejumper and an overachieving farmer's daughter. The
duvet on the wide, inviting berth was a rich, deep velvety green, the two
overstuffed chairs flanking the large oval viewport a swirling pattern of
the same green intermixed with rich blues and golds.

The cabin Captain Locke had chosen was, if she recalled correctly, done
dramatically in black and red. She found herself wondering how it suited
him.

An odd, bell-like note sounded in her ears, startling Kerra from her
reverie. It repeated itself after a moment's pause, and Kerra realized
that she was hearing her door signal. The one at the lab had sounded with
a raspy, irritating buzz; this was much nicer.

"Come in, Captain," she called.

The door slid open silently - another improvement - and Captain Locke
stepped into the room. He wore the same outfit he had been wearing when
she first saw him. His hair was now tied back with a thin leather cord,
but Kerra noted with a smile that one lock of hair had escaped and still
hung rakishly over his left eye.

The shirt was now partially fastened, but still gaped at the neck.
Kerra's fingers tingled with the urge to touch the narrow vee of muscled
chest left exposed. Clad once more in what she was beginning to think of
as his pirate uniform, he looked at once dangerously predatory and
incredibly tempting.

Stop it, Kerra, she told herself sternly. Such thoughts were completely
inappropriate. In a very short time, she would part company from this man
and, in all likelihood, never set eyes on him again. With a formidable
act of will, she forced all thoughts of the Captain's admittedly
considerable sex appeal to the rearmost corners of her mind. "What can I
do for you, Captain?"

"Well, to start with, you can try calling me Aden. Seems a little silly
to stand on ceremony with a man who's already seen the inside of your
bedroom."

Kerra's stomach fluttered as if she'd swallowed a hummingbird. So much
for her valiant attempt at composure.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he said hastily, and Kerra was aghast to realize her
discomfort had shown on her face. "That didn't come out the way I meant
it. I just - I mean - look, even at hyperlight speeds, it's going to take
a while to get where we're going. We're going to have to be shipmates for
at least another few weeks. And I'm really not a formal kind of guy."

Kerra nodded agreement. "So where are we going?" she asked him.

"My home base - an independently owned and operated space station called
Beckhaven, about three weeks' travel from here."

"I hadn't really planned on such a long trip," Kerra protested. "I'm kind
of anxious to put all this behind me. Isn't there a safe planet any
closer?"

"Probably," Aden answered. "But you never specified any time frame for
this drop-off when you hired me, Doc, and I am operating on a deadline
here. That guy we just provoked is an old enemy of mine from way back,
with a major grudge against some friends of mine. They need to be warned.
It's been a long time - I thought we'd seen the last of him."

"How dangerous is he?" Kerra asked, a sick feeling rising within her as
an unwelcome realization began to form. "What's going on between you?
Your transmission - you said something about a rape."

"It was a little more than a rape, Doc. There was also some creative work
done with a knife. Jannia almost died, and, as it was, she had to spend
weeks in regenerative therapy. She's never been the same since. It's
almost as if she did die that night, and someone else came to take her
place."

"Why?" Kerra asked, knowing that no explanation could possibly make sense
to her.

"Because his partner - his lover - had left him, and made Jannia her
partner instead. He could have punished Vaia directly, but he knew this
would hurt her even more."

"It sounds like you and your friends are the ones with a reason to want
revenge," Kerra said.

"We took our revenge long ago," Aden replied. "But it wasn't enough. We
should have killed him while we had the chance. Now he's back, and madder
than ever - in more ways than one."

The certainty that had begun to form as Aden spoke solidified, and
Kerra's throat grew tight and dry with dread. "He's the one who arranged
to have you grounded, isn't he? He wanted you helpless, knowing he was
going after your friends and there was nothing you could do." She
swallowed, tasting bile. "Then I came into the picture."

All trace of color left Aden's face. "Shit. You're right. And there's no
way he doesn't know you're involved. We even sent him your picture. Damn.
I didn't even think - I didn't plan for you to get mixed up in this."

"It's all right, Aden," Kerra assured him softly. "It wouldn't have
mattered. You were my best chance to get offworld. And at least if this
Gandes fellow kills us both, my research will die with me."

Aden shook his head slowly, rejecting Kerra's words. "You don't get it,
Doc. Gandes is a sick, twisted man. If he can, he'll do far more than
just kill you." His blue eyes fixed on hers, naked and intense. "I'll
kill you myself before I let that happen, but I may not have the chance."

"Thank you," said Kerra dryly. "Your promise to kill me makes me feel
ever so much better."

Aden grinned humorlessly. "Welcome to the business, Dr. Telsier. It's a
dirty life, but at least it's short."





Aden wasn't sure what he'd meant at the time, when he'd welcomed Kerra
into the business. He certainly hadn't intended to imply any sort of
long-term partnership between them. The very idea was ludicrous. She was
a client, a passenger, nothing more. Obviously he couldn't abandon her in
their current situation, but once Gandes was dealt with...

Dealt with properly, this time.

Once Gandes was dead, Aden could fulfill his contract to Kerra, leave her
behind on some quiet little world where she could make a new life for
herself. That had, after all, been their agreement. It had not changed,
only been postponed a little.

Still, in the two weeks since they'd made good their escape from her
homeworld, she'd been just about the best partner a man could ask for.
She learned fast -of course she learns fast, she's a genius, isn't she? -
and considered no task beneath her dignity. She'd already figured out a
way to increase the shields' effectiveness by another thirty percent
using just what they had on hand. She'd grasped the technicalities of
piloting in more than three dimensions faster than anyone he had ever
known. Best of all - and this shocked him - he had actually managed to
spend several days alone together in close quarters without wanting to
strangle her.

Might have been easier, in some ways, had it been otherwise.

"How long do you think Gandes was detained?" Kerra asked, her voice
breaking into Aden's thoughts.

He hesitated a moment before answering her. "I'd like to believe weeks,
but the fact is they probably released him the moment they realized you
weren't on board. But as much as it pains me to admit it, oldTalya here
is a good bit faster than myLion . Contrary to what those ridiculous
holovid stories of yours may have told you, most ships in the business
have sacrificed some of their speed to channel more energy into the
shields and weapons. I want the specs on how you boosted our shielding
without bleeding the engines, by the way. I have a few friends who'd
trade me major favors for that trick."

"Hey, I'm not a physicist's daughter for nothing."

"I thought you said your dad was a farmer," Aden said.

"I did. My mother is a physicist - or used to be."

Aden laughed easily, unable to resist the temptation. "She was just a
physicist's daughter, but man, did she have energy!"

Kerra rolled her eyes and groaned at the sexist joke, aiming a punch at
Aden's middle. He blocked it easily, catching her hand and twisting it up
behind her, pulling her back sharply up against his chest. He released
her before she experienced more than the most fleeting moment's pain.
Before his own body could get any ideas. A little bit of friendly horsing
around was one thing -

"So you think we're still ahead of him," Kerra said, continuing as if the
subject had never changed. She was not one to be distracted for long when
she had something on her mind.

"Yes, but I don't know by how much. I just hope the girls are in-station.
The more time we have to prepare, the better."

"What if they're not?" Kerra asked.

"Then we leave them a message on the station's bulletin-board system,
coded for direct transmission to their private flat the moment the
station's security grid detects their ship. Once warned, they can take
care of themselves. We'll also have to warn old Beck to cancel landing
clearance on my old ship." Aden sighed. "I wish we could tell how far
ahead we are, but it's not possible to track another ship in hyperspace."

"Which is good, from one perspective," Kerra pointed out. "It means my
people can't track us to Beckhaven. I'd rather not have to deal with
them, as well as with Gandes."

"Divran Internal Security can't touch you now, anyway," Aden told her.
"The moment you passed outside the confines of the Divras system, you
were beyond the jurisdiction of planetary authorities. That's one of my
favorite points of interstellar law." He grinned. "Of course, if you were
ever stupid enough to go back..."

"Not much chance of that," Kerra vowed.

"Of course, they always have the option of going through unofficial
channels," Aden continued. "You'd probably be worth a lot to an
enterprising bounty hunter."


"Well, that's a cheerful thought," Kerra muttered. "Aden, I've been
thinking - "


"That could be dangerous."

"Cut it out, Aden." Kerra ran a small hand through her thick hair. "I've
been thinking about the nature of hyperspace travel. The fluid quality of
time in hyperspace, specifically."

"Go on."

"There might be a way to alter our temporal course, to move backward in
time while still moving forward in space. That way, we could arrive at
Beckhaven in only a few hours even though it takes us another few days of
subjective time to fly there."

Aden frowned. "The ship's systems aren't designed to do that, Doc. There
are failsafes built in designed specifically to minimize temporal
deviations. Navigating the time stream is tricky work - without the
failsafes, a ship could find itself lost a thousand years in the future,
or a hundred in the past. I don't like it, Doc."

"I don't want to disable the failsafes, Aden. Just adjust them a little.
Think of it as a way to make theTalya thirty percent faster without
expending any more energy."

"Kerra, you're a physicist's daughter, not a physicist. Bright as you
are, there are things about the subject you don't know, and I can't help
you, because I know even less. What you're suggesting is a big risk."

"So is letting Gandes arrive right on our tail."

Aden let out a low growl. "Okay. Do it."





Three hours later, Kerra was literally crying with frustration.

The theory of it had seemed so simple - and if she'd had a few months
time and a fully equipped and staffed temporal physics lab, along with a
qualified research partner, she'd probably be able to cobble something
together. As it was...

"Dammit! Itold him I could do this! Ihave to be able to do this!" Her
throat ached with the effort to force back tears. Her mother could have
done it, she was sure - the pain that rose within her at that thought was
all but unbearable.

"Doc. Kerra." Aden's voice, coming from the hatch that separated the
bridge from the living quarters, was firm, authoritative. "Take a break."


"But we don't have time - "
===========================


"I could hear you yelling at yourself right over the shower, Doc. You're
no good to us like this. Take a break. Get yourself some lunch and a cup
of something hot, and lock yourself in your cabin for an hour. No one,
not even you, can think straight when they're as churned up as you are
now."

Kerra turned to look at him, and had to catch her breath. He'd emerged
from the shower at the sound of her voice, stopping only long enough to
wrap a towel around his hips. This concealed the most intimate part of
him, but left much exposed. His broad, muscled chest, for instance,
gleaming with moisture - jewel-like droplets of water caught in the fine,
curling nest of hairs between his pectorals. Kerra realized she was
staring, and quickly looked away.

"Sorry, Doc," said Aden quietly. "I guess I'm not used to being with
women I haven't - been with."

Kerra glanced back tentatively, to find him watching her, his eyes dark
with something for which she had no name. She opened her mouth to speak,
but had no idea what she wanted to say.

"Make sure you take that break," he said. Then he was gone.





Kerra stared out at the swirling, many-colored chaos outside her
viewport, her thoughts drifting. There were no stars visible in
hyperspace, a fact that had at first surprised and disturbed her. Now,
she was learning to find beauty in the void's iridescent strangeness.

It wasn't difficult to see how a man like Aden could fall in love with
this - this place between places, this nowhere that was everywhere. To be
alone with eternity -

Kerra hit the controls with the side of her hand, switching off the
viewport. She had to remember that Aden was a smuggler. He broke the law
for a living. A dangerous man with equally dangerous enemies, he was
about as likely to spend his time gazing yearningly out viewports as she
was to suddenly sprout a tail.

He wasn't anything like the fencejumpers in all those holovids and books
- had laughed, not unkindly, when he first heard her use the term,
telling her he was a smuggler, plain and simple, and had never met a
"fencejumper" in his life.

She understood now what he meant. The characters in all those stories
were all so - so slick, so polished, too charming to be real, because
they weren't real.

Aden - now he was real. Real, solid, tangible, and totally impossible to
ignore. He seemed to steal the very air from a room, so Kerra could
barely breathe in his presence, and just the sound of his voice was
enough to make her heart beat faster. When she was alone, she craved his
company the way a hungry child craves sweets, and when he was there, the
sheer force of his presence energized every cell in her body.

Was this what desire felt like? If so, it was by no means a comfortable
sensation. Sometimes when he looked at her, it was like someone had set
her on fire.

He wanted her, too. She was sure of it now, although she still didn't
understand why. It was there in his eyes when he looked at her, in the
way he would touch her, just for a moment, and then take his hand away as
if she'd burned him. Yes, he wanted her. But he had no intention of
taking what he wanted.





Aden stared out his viewport at the swirling iridescence outside, but for
once it brought him no peace.

She was there, just across the corridor. He could go to her. He could
have her, right there on that too-soft berth. He'd seen the way she
looked at him, the longing in her eyes. She was already his if he chose
to take her.

Hell, she wasn't even his type. He liked his women long and lithe, and as
experienced as he was. Kerra was - nothing like that. She was so small he
half imagined she might break in his arms if he held her too tight.

He shouldn't be thinking these things. She was so damned young, not much
more than half his age. If she felt anything for him, it was no more than
the allure of the forbidden, because she had to know, as he did, that a
sheltered innocent like Kerra had no business with a man like him.

His lifestyle had already put her in danger, and if they both came
through the coming showdown alive, he was going to leave her, just as
they'd planned right from the start. He wouldn't make that parting any
harder than it had to be. He had to stay away from her, for both their
sakes.





"I can't do it." Kerra said later, taking her seat beside Aden on the
bridge.

Aden could see in Kerra's eyes how much the admission cost her. "You did
the best you could, Doc," he said. It was a cliché, he knew, and an
inadequate one. It was also the truth.

"My name," she snapped irritably, "is Kerra." She leaned back in her
seat, letting her head fall back against the headrest, and closed her
eyes. "I'm not just a brain with legs, you know."

"Believe me, Doc - Kerra - I never thought you were. You, on the other
hand..." Impulsively, he leaned across the space between them and took
her hand. Touching her brought an unwelcome shock of awareness, and part
of him wanted to let go, but he tightened his grip instead. "That was all
they let you be, wasn't it?"

"That was all I let myself be, I guess. My work was everything to me -
and now it's gone, and I don't know who I am any more." She let out a
long, shuddering sigh.

"I don't know either, Kerra," Aden said. With his free hand he brushed
away the tears welling up in her bright blue eyes. "But I think I like
her."






CHAPTER 3
=========


Kerra had imagined many times what Beckhaven Station would look like. It
would be a graceful, ring-shaped structure, elegant in its symmetry, with
long, slender spokes connecting the outer torus to a central, cylindrical
core. Spinning in a slow, stately orbit around its hub like a giant wheel
from some ancient conveyance of a simpler, more romantic time, it would
glisten in the reflected light from the star it circled. Its external
viewports would sparkle like diamonds in the reflected starlight.

It didn't look anything like that.

The station's general shape was that of a large, deformed potato. Here
and there bulbous nodules had been added on, sticking out randomly from
the lumpish core with little consideration given to aesthetics. A dull,
nonreflective gray, it would probably go unnoticed in the darkness of
space if not silhouetted against the shining planet below.

Aden grinned ruefully at Kerra's disappointed expression. "She's not
fancy, Doc, but she's home. Let's hail her."

Kerra quickly activated the comm system, and a grizzled, middle-aged face
appeared on the viewscreen. Seeing Aden, the man's gray eyes grew wide in
surprise. "Locke, what are you doing on that ship? Where's theLion ?"

"Long story, Beck. Do I have clearance, or don't I?"

"You, Locke? Always. But who's the blonde?"

"Client. Well, partner, for a little while. Don't worry, I can vouch for
her."

The other man frowned, brows lowering as he studied Kerra. She squirmed
in her seat, nervously picking at her fingernails. She felt ten years old
again, wriggling in her chair while the laboratory administrators
"evaluated" her. Wondering if she failed the tests, would she get to go
home.

If she failed this test, there was nowhere to go. The thought terrified
her.

"Come on, Beck," Aden wheedled. "I trust her, and you know how paranoid I
am."

Beck gave a snort that might have been a laugh. "Okay, you're cleared.
This joint can always use another pretty blonde. Want me to set you back
up in the system?"

"Sure. You know who I want flags set for. The name of the new ship is - "
He hesitated a moment. "TheGolden Key . And Beck - " He paused again.
"Cancel clearance on theRed Lion until further notice, and set out a
warning flag for theAvaranda and theWisdom's Folly . Tell them Gandes is
back. He's back, and he's got my ship."





"I want to make a trade."

Tamiana Liori regarded the tall, reptilian-seeming Human through wary,
suspicious amethyst eyes. Human males, she had learned early on in her
young life, were nothing whatever like the docile, biddable males of her
own species. No, Human males were another creature entirely - lascivious,
conniving, even violently unpredictable when denied their will. For some
females of Tamiana's race, this gave them a certain perilous allure, an
allure to which she herself was not wholly immune.

But not this one. This one made her skin crawl, made her feel like she
suffered from an infestation of Kovarin dungworms.

Behind her, she felt Ayav and Giy draw just a little bit closer, offering
whatever protection they could. As if her mates, small and soft-muscled
as most other Kethrian males, stood a prayer of stopping this Human if he
decided to hurt her.

They were good men, Ayav and Giy. Sometimes she failed to appreciate the
depths of their devotion to her. She might be a low-status second
daughter with a harem of only two, and those, castoffs from her more
powerful sister, but there were many among her people with far less than
she.

"Trade, sir?" Tamiana asked breathlessly, trying her best to sound like a
vapid, brainless nymphomaniac. Most Human males seemed to hold that
impression of her race. Tamiana didn't bother trying to teach them
otherwise. Being underestimated could be a powerful tool.

"Yes, trade," the Human repeated condescendingly. "Your ship for mine."

Tamiana's eyes widened. "But your ship is larger, faster, better armed.
What could you possibly want with mine?"

The Human smiled in a parody of fatherly benevolence. "I'm getting a
little old for this line of work, my dear. It's time I slowed down a
little. Oh, not to retire, not yet, but to cut back, to take things a
little easier. A small vessel like yours will be more economical to run.
And you - a young, ambitious girl, full of energy and dreams, just
starting out - ah, how I envy you! It would give me great joy to know
that this ship, which has served me so well for so many years, will aid
you and your - ahem - partners in establishing a reputation."

Tamiana pasted on a fatuous smile, but inwardly she frowned. There were
many possible reasons why this man might want to unload this jewel of a
vessel, and not many of them boded well for the future owner. For
herself, she might be willing to take the risk, but what about Ayav and
Giy? She was responsible for them. Taking males off the homeworld was an
almost unprecedented breach of Kethrian tradition. Better, most said, to
make do with alien males than to expose ones own mates and sons to the
kind of depravity to be found elsewhere in the galaxy.

Still - what she could do with a ship like that! Two fully equipped
cabins plus a double bank of wall berths, sanitory with a real
recycled-water shower instead of sonics, cargo hold twice the size of
that on theAji and a separate stasis chamber capable of handling living
matter! It would take her forever to save up enough for a ship like that,
but it would increase her prospects for employment tenfold. Could she
really afford to pass up this opportunity?

"All right," she told the Human. "You have a trade."

She only hoped that she - and her innocent mates - wouldn't come to
regret her rash decision.





Kerra, enjoying a long, relaxing soak in the first real bathtub she had
seen in weeks, scrambled splashingly out of the water at the sound of the
ear-stinging alarm screaming through Aden's flat. She snatched a towel,
wrapped it hastily around her torso as she dashed out into the living
area - just as Aden casually extinguished the siren and settled himself
in front of his terminal, punching in a code.

"Relax, Doc. That was just the standard incoming-ship signal."

"You could have warned me, Aden!" Kerra fumed, holding the towel closed.

He grinned, turning his head to regard her barely covered from. "Sorry,
Doc. I guess I'm used to it."

"It isn't Gandes, is it?" Kerra asked nervously, twisting at the thick
fabric as she tried to secure the towel over her breasts.

Aden shook his head. "Jannia and Vaia. Good timing - this wasn't the kind
of news I wanted to leave in the data system."

"So I'm actually going to get to meet these people?" Kerra was surprised
at the eagerness in her own voice.

"Looks that way." Aden shut off the terminal and turned to study Kerra.
"That's an interesting look for you, Doc. Very basic."

Kerra's skin tingled with the sudden rush of blood to its surface. She
wanted to retreat back to the sanitory, but there seemed to be something
wrong with her feet.

Aden got up and took a step toward her. Her heart pounded as he closed
the distance between them. Her gaze was locked with his.

His strong fingers closed on her bare shoulders, lingering there for a
long, breathless moment.

He turned her and gave her a gentle push toward the sanitory. "Get
dressed, Kerra," he growled. "We have an appointment to keep."

She fled, not certain whether she was grateful for the reprieve or not.





Aden had described his friends to Kerra, but nothing he had said was
sufficient to prepare her for the reality. A more dramatic, intimidating
pair would be difficult to imagine.

Vaialora was a long, lithe beauty with flawless skin as black as polished
ebony and long, thick hair the rich scarlet color of still-burning
embers. Her eyes were large, tilted upward at the corners, and as vividly
green as the finest emeralds. She wore an armless, form-fitting dress
made of tiny metal chain-links, almost like armor - or maybe itwas armor.

The younger woman, Jannia, was as pale as her partner was dark. She
looked about Kerra's age, and rail-thin, with scarcely any figure at all.
In contrast to the pallor of her skin, her hair, clothing, and even her
eyes were a deep, obsidian black.

As Aden made the introductions, Kerra could feel Jannia's gaze on her,
cold and speculative, almost hostile. Kerra remembered something Aden had
told her, that Jannia had no sexuality left, found even the idea of
physical love revolting. Did she sense the attraction growing between
Kerra and Aden, and disapprove?

Oddly enough, from Vaialora she sensed real, honest, almost sisterly
warmth. If anyone should resent her, wouldn't it be the woman who had
once shared Aden's bed?

"We don't have much time for chitchat, ladies," Aden said, his hand
moving protectively to Kerra's shoulder as though to protect her from
Jannia's distaste. "Gandes is back. He's got my ship, and he's on his
way."

Impossibly, Jannia grew even paler. She swore, thoroughly, fluently, and
creatively, a show of verbal bravado that did nothing to conceal the
naked fear in her dark eyes.

"Easy, Jannia," Vaialora said, her rich, husky voice calm and strong.
"Seven years ago, you got hurt because none of us realized what Gandes
was really capable of. I would never have left you alone that night had I
suspected him of such brutality. Now we know what we face. I swear on my
life, partner, he will not touch you again." Her eyes caught Kerra's.
"You need not be involved in this, Dr. Telsier."

Aden shook his head. "It's too late for that, Vaia. Kerra's the one who
helped me out of the trap Gandes set for me. She's wanted for a rather -
unusual - crime on her homeworld and she - ah - kind of made it look like
it was Gandes, not me, who had her."

Jannia looked at Kerra with a different expression - curiosity, perhaps
even a grudging respect. "What were you wanted for?"

"I erased ten years' worth of my own research."

Jannia snorted rudely. "How could you have done ten years' worth of
research? I doubt you're much older than I am. You'd have to have started
when - "

"I was fourteen."

Jannia opened her mouth - then closed it again. Kerra could see the mind
working behind the other woman's eyes, reevaluating whatever first
impression had prompted her hostility.

"Enough, ladies," Aden said. "The warning flags are set. If Gandes has
the nerve to show his face back here, we'll know it. In the meantime -
none of us is ever alone. Not even to use the sanitory - and Vaia, that
means you, too. You go nowhere without Jannia or I - whoever you're
sharing sheets with tonight will just have to put up with a chaperone."

Jannia's lip curled in disgust. "If nobody minds, I think I'll stay with
Goldilocks, here."

Aden shot a questioning glance at Kerra, who shrugged. She and Jannia
hadn't exactly bonded at first sight, but any ill-will was as yet
one-sided. After all, the girl was Aden's friend, so she couldn't be all
that bad - could she?"





"He's not going to come here, whatever Locke thinks," Jannia said,
stretching her long legs across the space between her chair and the low
table. "Hit us here, surrounded by Locke's and Vaia's friends - hell,
Beck'd kill him on sight for setting foot back on-station after what he
did to me. No, he'll wait, find out our plans through the grapevine, hit
us the way we hit him. In the middle of a job, when our focus is
elsewhere. Locke would know that, if his own focus weren't elsewhere
already." That cool, appraising look was back again, making Kerra's
insides squirm uncomfortably.

"That really isn't any of your business," Kerra said. "It is if it gets
my friend killed," Jannia countered, fixing Kerra with a hard, glacial
stare. "I may not have much of a libido myself, but I've seen what fools
a bad case of lust can turn normally sensible people into."

"So you're telling me to keep my hands off him." It was all Kerra could
do to choke back a laugh. She could not believe she was having this
conversation!

Jannia snorted rudely. "Like you'd listen, even if that was what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Kerra demanded.

"Nothing." Jannia waved her hand dismissively. "Forget I said anything."

"Good stars!" Kerra realized. "You want me to seduce him!"

"I never said that," Jannia protested.

"You didn't have to." Kerra shook her head. It wasn't the first time the
thought had occurred to her. She'd fantasized about little else lately.
But to what purpose? Why start an affair with a man who was just going to
leave her as soon as he safely could?

The thought terrified her. In some ways, having to remain with Aden had
been a relief. A reprieve from the unknown future stretching out before
her - not to mention protection from the bounty hunters she was sure
would eventually come after her.

Becoming lovers would only make the eventual parting harder. Stars knew,
it was going to be hard enough now. It wasn't just the physical
attraction. Sheliked Aden.

Maybe more than liked.Stars.

"You like the idea," Jannia accused knowingly.

"What if I do?"

"Then we'd better get started."





Gandes smiled to himself, warm with anticipated pleasure, as he watched
theRed Lion lift off from its docking pad. Rumors of theLion 's presence
in sector after sector, on world after world, would keep Locke and his
trio of faithless bitches perpetually looking over their shoulder.
Thewrong shoulder, while Gandes lay in wait just behind the other.

He would bide his time, let them squirm awhile, before making his move.
In the Kethrian's nondescript little ship, he could move unnoticed
through the galaxy, setting things into motion to trap Locke, Kondi,
Wise, and Telsier in a web from which they would beg and whimper to be
set free.

But not yet - not yet. Locke, Telsier, Wise - and his lovely Vaia - they
were waiting for him, expecting him. Let some time pass. Months, if
necessary. The waiting would be hard - his need had been a constant
companion, a bitter ache that never ebbed, since that first fateful night
in Vaia's arms. But in the end, it would only make the payoff that much
sweeter. Let them grow soft and careless, as the day-to-day mundanity of
their lives distracted them from their peril. Then the others would be
dead - and Vaia would finally be his forever.





"I didn't expect a place like this to have so many shops," Kerra said.
"Bars, yes; gun shops, yes; tattoo parlors - but not anything like this."

Jannia shrugged eloquently. "You saw Vaia - a lot of the other girls are
almost as flamboyant. And it isn't just the smugglers and bounty hunters
- it isn't as bad at Beckhaven, but in a lot of stations, especially as
you get closer to the Fringes, the men outnumber us six or seven to one.
So there are always a certain number of courtesans and groupies."


"Groupies?"
===========


"They don't charge for it - they're just after the thrill of fooling
around with somebody dangerous."

Kerra wrinkled her nose in distaste. Aden had spoken of casual lovemaking
among trusted friends; he'd never hinted at anything quite so - seedy.

Jannia noticed the look. "Hey, these guys aren't allgentlemen - " her
voice fairly oozed with scorn " - like Locke. We're talking about a
criminal element here - it's a pretty rough crowd. Some of them are still
trying to get me between the sheets, and it's not with flowers and candy,
you can bet."

It really wasn't like the holovids at all, Kerra thought, staring without
seeing through the clear acrylic of the shop windows as they walked.
She'd expected the reality of life in Aden's world to be harsher, more
brutal. She hadn't realized it would be more ordinary, as well. Here she
was, in the company of the tragic figure from the horrible story Aden had
told her, discussing the alien behavior of the male species while they
shopped for clothes.

It was so normal, it was weird.

"Here. This one." Jannia took Kerra by the arm and led her toward a
storefront that looked no different to Kerra than all the others.
"Merilee O'Hare and both of Beck's daughters shop here. The clothes
aren't daring enough for Vaia and they're too pretty to suit me, but they
should be just right for you. Better than those colorless coveralls,
anyway." She led Kerra through the open doors, into a sea of color such
as Kerra had never seen.

"Who's the newcomer, O Wisest of the Wise?" The speaker was a plump,
matronly woman with short, frosty-gray hair and eyes whose color defied
naming, but which sparkled with offbeat humor.

Jannia ignored the play on her last name and seemed on the verge of
ignoring the woman as well, but that was hard to do with her body
blocking their path. Rolling her eyes in irritation, Jannia gestured to
her companion. "Her name's Kerra Telsier. She's flying with Aden Locke,
at least for a little while. Telsier, this is Dorcia Henner - at least it
was Henner when I left, I have no idea who her husband is this month. Now
can you get out of our way?"

"With Locke, is she?" Dorcia made no attempt to comply with Jannia's
blunt request, instead turning all her attention to Kerra. "It's a true
pleasure, my dear. I've been saying for years now that it's high time
that boy found himself a partner. Getting too old to still be trying to
watch his own back."


"I'm not his - "
================


"Pooh." Dorcia waved away Kerra's protests with a toss of her hand. "I've
seen the start of dozens of partnerships around this place. Don't matter
what you are to him right now. Wise here was a stowaway on Kondi's ship,
and Emarr Dengas - he was a slave that Ryan O'Hare won in a card game.
It's the end that counts, not how you get there."

"Telsier's a scientist." Jannia took Kerra by the arm, trying to elbow
her way around the old busybody. "And she's here to buy, not to talk. Got
anything against paying customers?"

"I prefer that my customers pay me, actually," quipped Dorcia. "By all
means, go ahead and look around. Take all the time you need." She stepped
out of the way, only to follow them, hanging almost on their heels. "I
think something in blue, to go with her eyes, don't you? Or red. Red
would be so dramatic against your lovely fair skin, dearie - "

Jannia growled, low in her throat, and Kerra grinned.






CHAPTER 4
=========


"Rise and shine, Goldilocks."

That was all the warning Kerra had before a large, soft, heavy object
collided at high velocity with her head. The impact jerked her rudely to
full consciousness out of a lovely, somewhat erotic dream in which Aden
had figured prominently.

The pillow wielder drew back for another swing. Kerra had a fleeting
impression of pale skin, dark hair, and black clothes. That was all she
had time to register before the pillow descended once more. Kerra raised
her arms to fend off the blow. "Ow! Stop it! I'm up!"

The pillow was flung to one side and tumbled end-over-end toward the
corner of the room, knocking over a hideous sculpture of a six-breasted
alien female. Kerra's attacker plopped onto the side of the bed, falling
easily into a lotus position on top of the rumpled black duvet.

Aden's duvet. On Aden's bed. And the pillow-swinging sadist who'd
attacked her was Aden's friend.

"I hope that's not the way you wake up your partner, O Wisest of the
Wise."

"Quit it. Dorcia can get away with calling me that because she's been
around forever and been married to some of the toughest old farts in the
business. One day's acquaintance doesn't give you the right."

"It doesn't give you the right to murder me with a pillow, either," Kerra
retorted.

"The fact that you took the only bed and left me that lumpy couch does,"
Jannia said. "You're lucky it was only a pillow. My neck aches like I've
just rowed across half an ocean. And after I spent half of last night
putting up with the mother hen from hell for your sake."

"Please! I had to put up with both of you!" Kerra rolled out of bed, away
from Jannia. "Besides, this is going to be my bed."

"So sure, are you?" Jannia bent down and commenced tossing Kerra's
clothes at her. "Locke's got a bit of a chivalrous streak. Used to drive
Vaialora crazy."

Kerra shrugged her arms out of the old shirt of Aden's she'd found to
sleep in and began wriggling into her underclothes beneath it. She hadn't
dressed in front of anyone since she was a little girl, but Jannia
clearly didn't intend to give her any privacy.

"We're supposed to meet Aden and Vaia in the common room for breakfast in
twenty minutes."





She was beautiful.

Aden didn't know where she'd got that dress she was wearing, but it could
have been made just for her. The rich, vibrant blue was exactly the shade
of her eyes, and the fabric shimmered softly as she moved. The loose
skirt swirled invitingly around her hips as she walked toward him. The
bodice, just visible between the open lapels of the matching leather
jacket, fitted perfectly to her full, round breasts. High, snug boots,
their tops reaching almost to the skirt's brief hemline, added length to
her shapely legs.

Her lush, golden hair she wore loose about her shoulders, the perfect
frame for her beautiful face. The urge to bury his face in those soft,
sweet-smelling curls was almost more than he could bear.

Vaialora kicked him under the table. "Close your mouth, Locke," she
murmured. "Do you think she wants to see your tonsils?"

Aden's mouth snapped shut. He was slipping. He wasn't usually so
insensitive as to gawk at other women in Vaia's presence. It wasn't as if
he didn't know how she still felt.

Vaia waved away his apology before it had passed his lips. She slid over
one seat, making room between them, though there was already an empty
chair on his other side, and gestured for Kerra to sit down.


So it was going to be like that, was it?
========================================


Jannia took her seat on Aden's other side, completing the circle. "Tell
me you two didn't order already."

"You need some meat on those bones, Jann," Aden said, jabbing a finger
vaguely in her direction. He'd have poked it playfully into her ribs, but
Jannia didn't like to be touched. "It's a good thing there's no wind in
here."

Jannia just looked at him.

"Some people just have a high metabolism," Kerra said.

"And some don't eat." Aden fixed Jannia with a pointed stare before
turning his attention to Kerra. "How did you sleep, Doc?"

"With a pillow over my head, mostly," Kerra answered. "Someone should
have warned me that Jannia snores." She leaned toward Aden to make room
for the waitress, who carried a steaming carafe of the strange Tarenash
beverage Vaialora loved.

As Kerra brushed against him, Aden detected a trace of sweet, spicy
fragrance, subtle but enticing. He frowned. She hadn't worn any scent
before. Why now?

"No one has ever complained before," Jannia said.

"No one has ever shared a room with you before," Aden pointed out.
"Sorry, Kerra."

"Jannia was telling me last night how she doesn't think Gandes will come
here," Kerra said.

"You all seem pretty sure he won't come to the station," Aden said.

"He wouldn't dare!" This from the waitress, who had returned with four
plates of the day's breakfast special - old-fashioned Terran-style bacon
and eggs, or as close as one could get with real pigs and chickens as
rare as they were this far from Earth. Kerra eyed hers warily.

"Didn't you eat stuff like this on your daddy's farm, Doc?" Aden asked.

"We ate pancakes and fruit, sometimes hot boiled grain - Aden, don't you
know what this stuff does to your arteries?"

Aden laughed. "Spoken like a true doc, Doc. It's not like we eat like
this all the time. This is home-station food. Beck buys it from farms
down on the planet with the rental money from the flats and docking
berths. It almost makes up for weeks or months at a time of nothing but
space rations."

Kerra tasted a bite, tentatively; it was good, but not what she really
wanted so soon after waking. She tried to set the plate aside discreetly,
but at least one person noticed; Jannia met her eyes across the table,
and gestured at her own untouched plate.

"Yes, but we've already established that you don't eat, Jann," Aden said.

Jannia ignored him, gesturing to the waitress. "Better get Telsier some
toast and honey or something. She's going to be needing her energy."

Kerra was grateful she was not eating at that moment, because she would
surely have choked. As it was, she was sure her fair skin must have
turned as red as Vaialora's hair. But though Aden went stiff in his chair
beside her and seemed to carefully avoid looking at her, no one else in
the room paid Jannia's comment the least attention.

"What needs doing on your ship, Locke?" Vaialora asked, deftly changing
the subject. "I understand she is not really a freighter?"

Aden shook his head. "Kerra was restricted to what she could get her
hands on easily without drawing attention. She's a luxury yacht some rich
idiot had been keeping in stasis for years. Comfortable, and as fast as a
man could ask for, but practically nothing in weapons or shields and no
cargo hold to speak of besides a small stasis chamber full of wine."

"Could you maybe convert one of the cabins?" suggested Jannia.

Aden frowned. "She only has the two. Even assuming what everybody seems
to be assuming, what about passenger jobs? I get at least two, three of
those a year. Am I supposed to carry people in a cargo hold?"

"Hold on," said Kerra thoughtfully, turning to Aden. "Those cabins are
pretty large, larger than they really have to be. What's to stop us from
putting in an extra wall and making one space into two? Your cabin's big
enough, easily, and then mine could be the hold. Or, one space could do
double duty. Rig bunks into the walls that fold down for passengers, up
for cargo. For that matter, the second sanitory isn't necessary. I mean,
the one off your cabin's almost big enough to be a cabin in its own
right."

"Doc, you're talking major structural changes, here!" Aden protested. "I
want to get out there again - that little enforced vacation on your
homeworld cost me a lot. I want to recoup some of it." He moved aside to
let the waitress in with Kerra's toast.

"So make a few simple changes now, and do the rest as you find the
opportunity," said Vaialora reasonably. "We shall leave you two partners
to discuss it. I have a few matters to discuss with Jann, as it appears
she is not eating, as usual."

"I think that was planned," Aden said quietly, once his friends had
retreated.

Kerra's heart was beating just a little too fast. "I think so too. They
know. Both of them. That we're - " Her voice broke off.

"Hot for each other?" Aden suggested softly.

Kerra nodded silently.

"Not used to that, are you? All those well-meaning, busybody friends,
intimately interested in all the sordid details of a person's love
life..."

"Aden, I've never evenhad a love life."

"Yeah, I'd sort of figured that out." His voice was low and soft as he
reached out and covered her hand with his. "Why me, Kerra?"

"I don't know. And don't think I haven't been trying to figure it out. I
mean, you're a good looking man, but..." Kerra shook her head. "I don't
have a lot of experience, here. I don't mean just with sex. It's all new.
Everything. And you're the closest thing to familiar in all of it."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Kerra," Aden assured
her quietly. "Don't ever think that you have any obligation towards me.
You hired me to take you somewhere safe, and instead I involved you in
something that could get you killed. If anything, the obligation runs the
other way."

"Jannia's afraid I'm going to get you killed," Kerra whispered.

"Jannia doesn't know a bloody thing about men and women. She has no
sexuality. Gandes killed it. She's just afraid of something she doesn't
understand."

"I'm not sure I understand it either." Kerra drew in a deep, ragged
breath. "When you look at me I can't think. When you touch me..." She
looked down at their clasped hands. "When you touch me I can't breathe.
I've never experienced anything like this. I've tried to make it go away,
but all it does is get stronger."

"I know how you feel." Aden lifted Kerra's hand to his lips. "I swore I
wouldn't do what I think we're about to do. Jannia's wrong. It won't
solve anything."

"I'm not sure I care."

"I care," Aden whispered. "Don't do this unless you're sure, Doc."

"I'm sure," Kerra said, and wondered if she meant it.





Aden eyed the disarray of his bedroom with a quirked eyebrow, grinning at
Kerra. "I hope you're going to be neater than this on theKey , partner."

"Jannia all but yanked me out of bed and down to breakfast by my hair.
She needs a few lessons in subtlety." Kerra's gaze skated away from the
sleep-rumpled bed. She was uncertain of what to do and say, how to act.
Her eyes settled on the tacky little sculpture that had been knocked down
earlier in the morning, and she bent down to right it, examining for
damage.

"It's a Kethrian fertility idol. A joke gift from Vaia. Don't worry. It
only works on Kethrians."

"Aden, I...that is, I don't...I'm not protected. I've never had to be."
Kerra turned away, her face hot with embarrassment, and anticipation.
Aden moved close to her, eased his strong arms around her, pulling her
back against his muscled body. It was the first time anyone had held her
since she was a little girl.

It had never felt like this, then.

"It's all right, Kerra," Aden whispered. "It's taken care of. That's not
a chance I take." He bent to kiss her temple, her ear, her throat. "You
have nothing to fear from me."

Nothing, she thought hazily, but the way he made her feel. His slightest
touch set her blood on fire. His voice, low and sexy, sent shivers
rippling through her.

He released her, but only to take her head tenderly in his hands, his
fingers sliding into her soft, golden curls as she tilted her head back,
raising her eyes to meet his. She reached up to wrap her arms around his
neck, pressing her soft, round breasts close against his hard chest. He
had to wrap his arms around her to support her small body as he bent to
kiss her.

Nothing else in Kerra's sheltered life could have prepared her for the
power of Aden's kiss. His open mouth crushed hers insistently, his tongue
probing, seeking entry. Kerra's involuntary gasp provided the
opportunity. He invaded her mouth, tongue exploring boldly, teasing her
own until it had no choice but to respond. He retreated then, suckling
gently at her soft, swollen lips until she herself pressed closer, her
tongue thrusting in search of his. She felt his delighted smile against
her lips as he surrendered to her.

His arms wrapped more tightly around her, crushing her breasts between
them and pulling her completely off her feet. They tumbled together onto
the already-rumpled bed, coming to rest with Kerra on top, one leg caught
between Aden's thighs.

Even through the layers of clothing, she could feel his hardness pressing
into the tender flesh of her belly.

She looked down into his eyes. The hunger she saw there, that she felt
within her own flesh, was suddenly terrifying.

"You're trembling," Aden said softly.

Kerra nodded, slowly, not trusting herself to speak.

"It's not too late to stop this, honey." He reached up, tenderly brushing
the hair back from her face.

Kerra pressed her cheek into his open palm. "I do want this. I do..."

Aden pulled her back down into his arms then, just to hold her, and
nothing more. "Relax. Relax, honey. We started too fast, that's all. You
weren't ready to feel so much. I'm sorry. I'm the one who's supposed to
know what he's doing, here." He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her
head.

His heart, beating fast but steadily beneath her cheek, gradually lulled
Kerra back to herself. She raised herself up on her hands, looking down
into his eyes again. The hunger was still there, mingled now with a
tenderness that took her breath away. Tenderness, and a knowing regret.

"I think I'm falling in love with you." She spoke so softly she wondered,
at first, if he'd heard her. Wondered if she would have the courage to
repeat her confession if he had not.

Aden nodded, accepting. "I think I knew."

"If I have to leave you, it will hurt. Whether we make love or not."
Kerra touched his face, tracing the firm line of his jaw with two
delicate fingers. "It will hurt us both."

Aden neither admitted nor denied the truth of her softly spoken words. He
dipped his head to kiss her exploring fingers, suckling gently at their
tips. His eyes never leaving hers, he stroked his hands down her back,
slowly, to find and cup her bottom, drawing her hips upward to straddle
his. His thick, hard manhood nestled into the untouched space between her
thighs.

"You're here now," he growled. "Stars, but I want to be inside you."

Kerra outlined the contours of his lips with the edge of her thumb, then
took his head in her hands, lowering her mouth to claim his. Their
tongues met in a fierce, sensual duel of passionate hunger, barely
controlled. Aden's hands moved to Kerra's shoulders, pushing the jacket
down off her arms, caressing her through the soft, thin fabric of her
dress. With a moan of frustration, he pushed at her, breaking their kiss,
his hands seeking the fastening that would free her bare flesh to his
touch. The seamless garment frustrated his efforts. Admitting defeat for
the moment, he raised his head to nuzzle Kerra's breasts through the
offending cloth, sending a wave of delicious warmth coursing through her.

"How do you get this damn thing off?" he growled.

Kerra rose to her knees, reached down to peel the garment off over her
head, unveiling herself to his eager exploration. His hands stroked her
everywhere; shoulders, thighs, the tender flesh beneath her breasts.
Where his hands led, his lips followed - little, nibbling kisses that
sent shivers of wicked delight to intimate places never even touched.

Kerra touched Aden tentatively at first, brushing aside the fabric of his
shirt to caress the smooth male flesh within. His skin was softer and
more supple than she'd expected. The soft whorls of chest hair curled
enticingly around her fingers. His taut male nipples aroused her
curiosity, and she bent to taste one. A shudder ran through his body as
he gasped her name, his voice raw with pleasure. She pushed and tugged at
the shirt, trying to reach more of him, and he laughed delightedly at her
eagerness.

"Let me," he said.

Moving away from her, he stripped away the shirt, casting it aside as he
rose from the bed, to stand before Kerra's hungry, loving eyes as he
slowly undid the fastening of his pants and peeled them away.

Heart pounding furiously, Kerra watched him return to her. Nothing had
prepared her for this reality. She knew about the human body - could
build one from the ground up out of a few pounds of organic chemicals,
had she wanted to - but never had she seen anything so magnificent, or so
frightening, as this man, naked and beautiful and rigid with need for her.

He knelt on the bed beside her, watching her eyes. "You're trembling
again," he whispered huskily. "Afraid?"

She nodded.

"Want to stop?"

"No!"

"Good girl." He leaned forward, claiming her mouth in a long, deep,
searing kiss as his hands slipped behind her, finding the fastening of
her bra and removing the fragile garment, baring her breasts to his
attentions. He pushed her back, down into the welcoming softness of the
duvet, bending to flick his moist, hot tongue across one rosy nipple,
then the other. She gasped his name, crying out in protest as he pulled
away, this time to kneel at her feet, tugging off first one of her boots,
then the other, and dropping them to the floor.

His fingers stroked her feet tenderly, massaging her toes, her heel,
gradually working upward - ankles, calves, knees. As his hands kneaded
the sensitive flesh of her thighs, he bent his head to suckle and kiss
her swelling breasts. She groaned, gasped, clutched at him as a woman
being swept away by rapids might clutch at her one hope of rescue. She
tried to speak, tried to beg him to end this torrent of sensations and
bring her to earth again, but the words would not come. It was all she
could do to cry out his name.

It was all that she needed.

Aden stripped away her panties with one swift, decisive movement, and
then he was on her, his powerful male body covering hers, so she could
not have escaped had she wanted to. Their gazes met, locked, and what
Kerra saw in Aden's eyes - unspoken, but no less real - took away what
was left of her breath.

"So beautiful," he whispered. "My Doc. My Kerra."

"Yes." The word was little more than a strangled gasp.

She didn't expect the sharp, stinging pain when he first thrust into her.
Shocked, she tried to jerk away. He swallowed her cry of protest in a
deep, possessive kiss, holding himself very still inside her. Breaking
their kiss, he looked down at her. "Wrap your legs around me, honey."

She did as he said, noting that doing so eased the pressure on her sore,
torn flesh, even as it settled him more deeply within her.

He moved inside her slowly at first, easing her into an ever-intensifying
rhythm. Her very blood seemed to hum with the energy building between
them, an energy like nothing Kerra had ever felt or imagined. She clung
to Aden's body, the only solid thing in a world of pure, raw sensation.
Tried to voice what she was feeling, but the only word she could seem to
remember was his name.Aden.

Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, each more powerful than the
last, until she would have sworn it was not possible to feel anything
more - and then her universe exploded.





They lay together for a long time, not moving, not speaking. Aden might
have gallantly moved aside, relieving Kerra of his weight, but she showed
no sign of wishing it. She held him to her, snuggling her head into his
shoulder, as though his big masculine body weighed on her not at all.

"Doc, I'm squashing you," he pointed out finally.

Kerra sighed, as if reminded of a fact she was aware of but had been
trying to ignore. Reluctantly, she allowed him to shift position, lying
on his side and pulling her into his arms with her back nestled against
his chest and her own arms hugging his to her.

"My man," she said quietly, as if testing the words. "My lover."

Aden opened his mouth to remind her that he was both of those things only
for a little while, but he let the words remain unspoken. She knew.






CHAPTER 5
=========






"No, leave the second sanitory," Aden said, shaking his head at the
ship's schematic displayed on his flat computer. "If we do take on
passengers, I don't want them coming through our cabin all the time."
Aden watched Kerra's small, deft fingers flicker across the keypad,
making yet another change to the ship's schematic displayed on the
computer screen.

"That's a lot of space, though, for something that's only going to be
used once in a while," Kerra pointed out. "Could we make it half the
size?"

"Doc, neither one of us is a plumber. Let's not get in over our heads."
Aden leaned close to her, putting his hands on her shoulders as he
examined the schematic over the top of her head. Since yesterday morning
he seemed to be taking advantage of every available opportunity to touch
her. It made concentration a challenge.

"Will we have enough cargo space this way?" she asked him. "You're the
professional." She gave in to the temptation to lean back into his chest,
feeling his warm, masculine solidity against her back.

"We won't be able to take on any really big shipments, but I'm not crazy
about running high-mass cargoes on an unfamiliar ship anyway. Once we
deal with Gandes, I can do whatever it takes to make up a full-size cargo
hold. Maybe I'll even be able to get theLion back in one piece."


"What will you do with theTalya if you do?"
===========================================


"Golden Key, Doc. Her name's theGolden Key now,Key for me andGolden for
you. It's a tradition around here to name ships that way."

"So -Red Lion ?" Kerra prompted.

"Redfor Vaia's hair andLion - well, she was my first ship, the one I
bought with Vaia, and we couldn't afford to buy new. Her original name
was theLion's Share. "

"You really have a thing about women's hair, don't you?" Kerra asked with
a sly smile.

Aden shrugged, grinning. "My one weakness."

"Oh? Just one?" Kerra quirked a mischievous brow. "Maybe I should ask
Vaia about that. I have a feeling she knows a few interesting things
about - "

"All right, all right," Aden grumped good-naturedly. "It's not fair, you
know. You don't have any former lovers I can pump for information."

"You never answered my question," Kerra reminded him. "What will you do
with this ship if you get your old one back?"

"Give her back to you, probably," Aden said. "She'd make a nice,
comfortable home for you while you figure out what you want to do with
the rest of your life."

Kerra bit back a sigh. Had he entertained the thought, even for a moment,
that she might spend that life with him? How could he speak so casually
of their parting, after the blinding intensity of what they'd shared?

"Now the tricky part," Aden said, returning to their original
conversation, "will be installing the weapons and shields. This ship
wasn't designed to have any teeth. I think we can maybe cobble in a Type
4 shield generator where that little stasis unit is now, but I'm not
quite sure what to do with the photon cannons. TheKey's hull just wasn't
configured with weapons placements in mind."

Kerra swallowed and willed her voice to sound normal. Aden showed no
indication he even suspected what was going on inside her. "We need at
least one dorsal and one ventral, right?" She called up the external
schematic showing the ship from both top and bottom.

"Yes. We need to place them so they can cover all vectors. Preferably
without blasting off bits of the ship." He frowned at the image on the
screen. "We're going to have problems with the hull protrusionshere ," he
said, jabbing a finger at the schematic, "here, and here."

"The schematic calls them ornamental domes," Kerra corrected.

"Whatever," Aden grunted. "They're in the way."

"We could mount the guns directly on the domes themselves," Kerra
suggested.

Aden shook his head. "That would create a space just below the gun where
someone could sneak in a torpedo."

Kerra's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I hadn't thought about
torpedoes."

"You're not experienced in battle, that's all. The one tight spot we've
been in together so far, you got us out of without a single shot fired."
Aden squeezed her shoulder. "That's a pretty valuable ability."

Kerra turned her attention back to the schematic. "I wonder if we
could..." Kerra paused. "Aden, tell me something. Why wouldn't the
shields keep out a torpedo?"

"They're designed to absorb and disperse energy. A torpedo's hard matter
- slips right through."

"But a photon cannon's an energy weapon, so how could we shoot ourselves
with it? Wouldn't our shields would protect us?"

"To an extent, but each shot absorbed weakens the shields a little more.
I prefer not to do my enemy's work for him." Aden frowned. "Doc, I
thought you knew this stuff."

"I do - I just needed to hear it one more time." She closed her eyes,
looking inward. There was an answer, she knew there was. It was so
stupid, anyway. The protrusions didn't even serve a structural or
functional purpose. They were just big, hollow lumps, as far as she could
tell.


Hollow!
=======


"Aden, it's so simple! Just take the damn thingsoff and we've got three
nice, neat little openings. We'd have to cut the hull to install the
photon guns anyway, right?"

"I hadn't planned to cut holes quite that big," Aden said. "We'll need to
patch the area around the guns, but we can hammer the material from the
protrusions flat, and use that. It's not perfect, but it's the best idea
we have."

"So we have a plan?" Kerra asked.

"We have a plan," Aden agreed. "Now comes the fun part."





If this was really Aden's idea of fun, Kerra decided the next day, then
she had clearly fallen in love with a lunatic.

They had already completely gutted what had been Aden's cabin. They'd
lugged the furniture down to a storage area deep in the bowels of the
station, and wrestled in six fold-down bunks and a bulky Type 8 stasis
field generator. Kerra's muscles, unused to that kind of workout, were
screaming in protest. It didn't help that Aden, with his larger, more
powerful, and - let's face it - fitter body, barely seemed to be working
up a sweat.

Kerra hadn't done this kind of physical work since she was a little girl
growing up on her father's farm. She had liked it back then, since it
gave her a chance to be close to father. She might learn to like it
again, given time, but right now she couldn't imagine how.

"Let's take a break before we tackle that shield generator," Aden said.

Kerra managed to restrain a sigh of relief, but Aden must have caught the
expression on her face. "Doc? You okay?"

"Yes. Of course." She tried to sit down against the bulkhead, but
couldn't help wincing in agony as she moved her back the wrong way.
Moving swiftly, Aden caught her and gently lowered her to the floor,
leaning her against him.


"Dammit, girl, why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"
========================================================


"We need to finish the upgrade," Kerra said.

"From the look on your face just now, we nearly finishedyou . You're
supposed to be some brilliant biologist. Don't you know what can happen
when a human body's pushed too hard? We're sure as hell not going to save
any time if you put yourself in medbay." His voice was rough with anger
and concern.

"I didn't realize it was this bad," Kerra admitted. "Aden, my aches have
aches. I really don't know if I can do any more today."

"If you tried, I'd magni-bond you to a bed." His eyes gleamed wickedly.
"I might do that anyway."

"Right now," she told him, "I think even making love would hurt."

"No sympathy for self-inflicted injuries, Telsier."

Kerra looked up at the sound of Jannia's sardonic voice. She and Vaialora
stood at the entrance to the landing bay, dressed like Kerra and Aden in
plain, serviceable coveralls designed to take a lot of abuse.

"Where have you two been?" Aden growled. "First you offer to help, then
we can't find you anywhere."

"We figured it would be sometime tomorrow before you two came up for
air," Jannia said.

"We spent most of the morning trying to finagle you a less cumbersome
stasis unit," said Vaialora, her resigned tone bearing witness to their
lack of success. "But there are none to be found for love or money."

"She knows," Jannia added. "She tried both."

"After the trouble we went to getting the Type 8 in by ourselves, I think
we might have shot you if you'd succeeded," Aden grumbled. "We were about
ready to knock off - Kerra's dead on her feet."

"Wore her out last night, Locke?" Jannia inquired.

"Your partner has a big mouth, Vaia," Aden said dangerously. "I'd muzzle
it if I were you."

"I try," Vaialora said, "but her breath melts the leather."

Jannia pointedly ignored the comment, extending a hand to help Kerra get
stiffly to her feet. For some reason both Aden and Vaialora looked
startled at the gesture. "From the way you move, Telsier, you could use a
hot soak. There's a place on the planet I sometimes go. Aden and Vaia can
handle things from here. Can't you?" she added pointedly.

"Hold it, Jann," Aden protested. "Kerra isn't leaving this station on her
own."

"Pardon me?" Jannia demanded. "Was she alone the other night ? It seems
to me there was someone in the flat with her, but I might be mistaken."

The glare Aden shot her would have made a lesser woman shudder. It
certainly had that effect on Kerra, but Jannia just continued to meet
Aden's gaze with a level regard of her own.

"Jannia will take care of her, Locke. Were you planning to have the girl
grafted to your hip?" There was nothing whimsical in Vaialora's tone. "If
you want this partnership to work, even temporarily, you will have
totreat Kerra like a partner. That means an equal, capable of making her
own decisions."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Kerra interjected, more than a
little annoyed at being discussed as though she were not in the room.

Aden regarded Kerra indecisively, a little of the steel going out of his
eyes. "I don't like letting you out of my sight with a madman out for our
blood, Doc. Here on Beckhaven's one thing - "

"Vaia's right, Aden. You have to let me decide what risks I want to take."

The look on Aden's face told Kerra he didn't completely agree, but after
a long pause, he gave a curt, wordless nod.





"I wasn't expecting anything like this," Kerra said, marveling at her
luxuriant surroundings. "Not from you." The spa to which Jannia had
brought her was located halfway up the side of a mountain, and built of
the natural stone that surrounded it. The setting was wild, rugged, and
uncompromisingly beautiful. Seated at an isolated table in an outdoor
lounge area, Kerra could see the whole valley, lush and green, laid out
before her.

"And you know me so well, of course," sneered Jannia sarcastically. "This
is where Locke and Vaialora brought me, after..." Her eyes were opaque,
unreadable. "After. I still come when I can."

"What do they do here?" Kerra asked her, watching a group of the
uniformed staff from a distance. They were all of this world's indigenous
race, humanoid, but with an almost metallic sheen to their fair skin.

"Whatever you want them to," Jannia said. "Massage, cleansing treatments.
Sex. Me, they mostly leave alone."

"You pay these fees to be left alone?" Kerra shook her head in disbelief.
"I'll leave you alone for nothing."

"Do you know what it is to live your life as the focus for another's
guilt?" Jannia asked. "Locke. Vaia. They look at me, and see someone
they've failed."


"Is that how you see them?" Kerra asked. "As having failed you?"
================================================================


Jannia shook her head. "They are my friends. The only ones I have left.
The others - could not accept the changes in me. They are the ones who
failed me." She looked at Kerra. "You - I like you, Kerra Telsier. You're
new, and I'm new to you. You never knew me, before. You see me only as I
am. Do you have any idea how refreshing that is?"

"Is this how you are?" Kerra wasn't sure where the words came from.

Jannia looked at her strangely. "Of course."

"So what do you do here, while the staff is leaving you alone?" Kerra
said.

"Come on," said Jannia, getting up. "I'll show you."





"It was her idea to put the gun turrets inside the ornamental domes?"
Vaialora took an experimental sip of her mulledbaras ; it was still
burningly hot, giving her a scorched lip for her trouble. "Clever,
turning a liability into an asset like that."

"Clever? Vaia, if you pooled the I.Q. of everyone on this station, the
sum total wouldn't match Doc's. She's a genuine, certified, card-carrying
genius. Why she'd ever want to waste herself on a worn-out old smuggler
like me - I just don't get it. For that matter, I don't get what I see in
her, either. If anyone was ever further from my type, I haven't met her
yet. But she's stuck in my head like one of Ryan O'Hare's New Taran
drinking songs."


"Have you taught her how to handle the guns yet?"
=================================================


Aden choked on the mouthful of Kethrian wine he'd been drinking. "The
guns? What the hell for?"

"She's your partner, isn't she? She needs to be able to handle every
aspect of this ship, Locke."

"She's never taken a life, Vaia."

"I would bet my mother's good name she had never been with a man before
yesterday, but I believe that has changed?"

"Your mother forfeited her good name when she birthed a reprobate like
you. There's a damn big difference between losing her virginity and
making her first kill, and you know it. Remember the look in Shalee
Beck's eyes after she took out that bounty hunter on Chesafar? Like part
of her had died with him. I saw that look in the mirror, too, once, and I
bet you have, too. I won't see it on Kerra. Not if I can help it."

"You are making her decisions for her again," Vaialora insisted. "Listen,
old friend. The time may very well come when the girl has no choice but
to kill or be killed. She needs the means to defend herself."

"Well, it is her choice," said Aden, "and I think I know her better than
you. She won't want to touch the guns, regardless."

"Whether she wants to or not, this is one choice neither one of you is
going to be given. Gandes is out there, Locke. He wants you and Kerra
dead. If he can make you both suffer first he'll take great pleasure in
doing so. You know this, but you still resist giving her the means to
protect both of you."

"You don't know her," Aden insisted. "You haven't heard the things she
told me. Kerra'd rather die than take another life. I'd stake my own life
on it."

"Well, that is precisely what you are doing. Trying to protect a
noncombatant partner will get you killed, and thenher life will not be
worth a clay credit. You're notthinking , man." It never ceased to amaze
Aden, the ability Vaia had to make the word "man" sound like "idiot."

"Thinking is Kerra's job." Aden asserted. "I'd put her ability to figure
her way out of a tight spot ahead of a rookie on the guns any day."

"It is, as they say, your funeral," Vaialora spat. "A shame you risk
taking a good woman with you." She got up. "If this is how you behave
with a woman you truly love, perhaps I was fortunate to escape that
honor."

"Wait a minute!" Aden shouted to her turned back. He wanted - needed - to
counter her appalling accusation. But Vaialora just kept on walking.





Kerra fell bonelessly onto the sofa the moment she got back to Aden's
flat. She couldn't remember ever feeling more relaxed. The hot, scented
waters of the spa's secluded baths had soothed her aching muscles to the
point where she wondered if some of them were still there. Then the steam
chambers, followed by a hot shower - Jannia had opted for cold, the silly
girl. And the food! Steamed fish, fresh-baked bread, succulent
fruits...real food, Jannia had called it, and Kerra had to agree. Aden
would not have worried about Jannia's eating habits if he'd seen her at
the spa.

Aden came out of the bedroom wearing loose black shorts and nothing else.
His long hair was rumpled. "I thought I'd heard you come in," he said,
sitting down beside her. "I was starting to wonder whether Jann was
planning to return you."

"Actually, I think I was the one keeping her," Kerra confessed. "She only
did half the things I did. No massage, no cleansing wrap. She doesn't
like to be touched?"

"Or to touch anyone else," Aden confirmed. "I couldn't believe it when
she helped you up today. She must like you." He slid a hand in under
Kerra's hair, caressing the back of her neck. "I don't want to talk about
Jannia. No, that's wrong. I don't want to talk." He took her head in his
hands and kissed her. "I was in bed. I want to go back to bed. With you."

Kerra smiled. "What a wonderful idea."

"I think I should get a blaster pistol, Aden. Just in case."

Aden stiffened, the tenderness going out of his embrace. The suddenness
of the change shocked Kerra speechless. He pulled away from her, leaving
her holding the velvet coverlet to her bare breasts. His eyes, which had
burned with passion not long ago, looked cold and hard now.

"Don't you start," he said. "No one on this station seems to think I can
take care of my own woman. Now they've got you in on it."


"Your own - Aden, I am not a possession!"
=========================================


"No, of course not." He protested hastily. "But you are my
responsibility."

Responsibility? Was that really all she was to him? "Well, if you find me
such a burden, so be it," she seethed. "Just drop me off on the nearest
safe planet, and you'll never have to worry about me again!"

"Are you insane, Doc?" Aden demanded. "With Gandes out for your blood,
you think I could just cut you loose and not worry?"

"I don't know what I think. Ididn't think you'd be the kind of man who
thinks that just because a woman lets him into her bed he has the right
to take over her life."


"Letshim? Doc, the whole damn thing wasyour idea !"
===================================================


"Yeah. Right. From this angle, it looked completely mutual to me. Why
can't you just admit that you're afraid, Aden?"


"Afraid?" Aden scoffed. "What the hell do you think I'm afraid of?"
===================================================================


"Of me. Of letting me get too close. I think you're scared to death that
if you don't put some sort of fence between us, you won't be able to let
me go when it's time. That's why you resist treating me like a real
partner. Well, I won't have it, Aden! Either we're partners, or we're
nothing!"

Aden pushed the hair back out of his eyes. "Don't you see I'm just trying
to look out for you?"

"I see that's what you think you're doing," Kerra said.

Aden let out a low roar of frustration. "I give up, Doc. Get your damn
gun. Do whatever you want. I'm going to go see if Jann and Vaia need
anything." He rose from the bed and began pulling his clothes on. He
turned his back, so he could not see the hot tears welling up in Kerra's
eyes.





When Aden showed up at the hatch of theWisdom's Folly , alone and
obviously fuming, Vaialora immediately dispatched Jannia to make sure
Kerra was all right. Then she laid into Aden without bothering to wait
for an explanation. "So you just left her." Vaialora's emerald eyes were
dark with displeasure. "You insist it'syour duty to protect her. So much
so that you won't even allow her the means to protect herself. And yet
you just walked away and left her."

"I don't need this right now, Vaia." The cold fire in Aden's eyes would
have intimidated a lesser woman. But not Vaialora Kondi. Very little
intimidated Vaia.

"You most certainly do!" she retorted. "You are behaving like an
arrogant, overbearing fool. The kind of man, I feel compelled to remind
you, that you have always despised."

"Well, maybe this will cure the girl of this crazy notion she has that
she's in love with me."

Vaialora snorted rudely, reminding Aden of her partner. "Of course - a
woman would have to be crazy to fall for the likes of you, wouldn't she?"
The challenge in her words was clear. To agree would insult not only
Kerra, but Vaialora herself.

Aden was a brave man - but not that brave. "You've said yourself that
she's probably safe as long as she's on Beckhaven." Thoughtfully he
added, "Maybe I should just leave her here. She could stay in the flat.
Do some work on the computer systems for Beck. I could come back for her
when it's all over."

"Oh. Right." Vaialora rolled her eyes. And of course she would stay put,
living in the home of the man who abandoned her. I know her better than
that, and I only met her two days ago. She'd be out of here on the first
ship that would take her. Is that what you want?"

"No." Aden scowled. "I suppose you're going to tell me I should get Kerra
a blaster pistol and teach her to use the photon cannons, too."

"Why should I tell you what you already know? Sleep on it, Locke. Don't
go back to Kerra tonight. She'll be more inclined to forgive you once she
seethes awhile. And maybe you will see things more clearly in the
morning."





Aden's absence was a raw, aching wound in Kerra's heart. She had known
that becoming intimate would change their relationship, but had naively
foreseen only the positive changes.

Space, but the man was stubborn! Even she could see that protecting her
innocence along with her safety would be impossible. She already knew -
or at least suspected - that she could kill if his life were in danger.
And it terrified her that she loved him that much.

Jannia arrived shortly after Aden's abrupt departure from Kerra's bed,
but Kerra sent her away. The last person she wanted to see was the woman
who had encouraged her to pursue this maddening affair.

Kerra slept in the flat that night, assuming Aden had returned to the
ship. She lay awake for a long time, throat tight and aching from unshed
tears - and a few shed ones. Lovers for barely two days, and already
sleeping apart in anger.





Kerra awakened the next morning to find Aden sitting in the armchair near
the inactive viewport, watching her with thoughtful, troubled eyes. Her
blood chilled when she realized that anyone, even Aden, could enter her
bedchamber without her sensing his presence.

"You sleep too deeply, Doc," Aden said, echoing her thoughts. "But I have
to admit, I like watching you."

"And just how long have you been watching me, Aden?" She tried to sound
irritated. To conceal her pleasure at his admission. But the words came
out soft, husky. What had happened to her determination to stay mad at
him?

"Long enough to digest a few things Vaia said to me." He closed his eyes.
"Things you tried to tell me, but I was too stubborn to listen. I don't
know why it took her to get through to me, maybe it's because we've known
each other so long..." He seemed to realize he was rambling, and abruptly
closed his mouth.

"This wouldn't be an apology, would it?" Kerra asked.

Aden laughed softly. "You really get to the point, don't you?"

"Seems like one of us has to."

Aden cocked his head. "One point for you, Doc. Okay. I'm sorry. I acted
like an ass, but I had a good reason."

"I'm truly amazed at your ability to spoil an apology," Kerra remarked.

"Kerra, can I finish?"

"Go on," she said magnanimously.

"Thank you," Aden said. "A big part of what I like about you is - hell, I
don't know the word for it. I guess - a lot of us are capable of killing
for what we love, but you're the sort who'd die for it. Die, or let
yourself be destroyed. I've seen it before. On a sweet little girl whose
childhood was snuffed out like a candle flame because she refused to tell
a madman where to find her partner."

"You never told me that part of it," said Kerra quietly, knowing he
referred to Jannia.

"Hell, it hardly mattered. I'm sure he'd have raped her even if she had
told. But maybe he wouldn't have lost control so completely. Maybe he
would have left it at rape. We'll never know. What I'm trying to say is -
I think it would almost be easier to see you die than to go through that
again. It almost killed me when it happened to Jann, and I wasn't in love
with her."

This awkward admission, spoken with such raw emotion, stole the breath
from Kerra's body. "I never thought you'd admit it."

"It doesn't change the fact that we have no future together, Doc," Aden
reminded her roughly.

"I'm not sure I care." She held out her arms, and he came to her, drawing
her roughly into the iron strength of his embrace.

It was a very long time before either of them spoke another word.






CHAPTER 6
=========






Kerra woke up, stretching languidly, and rolled over to snuggle into the
warm body of a man who wasn't there. Muttering a sleepy protest, she
opened her eyes.

She'd fallen asleep in a bed pleasantly rumpled from lovemaking. Now the
blankets had been smoothed and straightened around her. He'd tucked her
in before he left.


She smiled warmly at the thought. Such a caring gesture. But where was he?
==========================================================================


She got up, made good use of the sanitory, and made her way into the
flat's main room. Aden looked up from the food-prep console. "Good
morning, sleepyhead. I was trying to get this thing to make pancakes."

Kerra shooed him aside. "I'll do it. Cooking was one of the few things
the lab administrators actually let me do for myself." Within minutes she
had produced a tasty breakfast. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You worked hard yesterday," Aden said as he took his plate from her and
sat down. "You needed the rest. And I needed to get out and pick up that
blaster you asked for."


Kerra glanced at him, surprised. "You got me the blaster?"
==========================================================



"Of course I got you the damned blaster," Aden grumped. "Didn't I say I
would?"


"No, actually. You didn't. You apologized for being an ass, then
proceeded to explain why you were right after all. Then you distracted me
by telling me you loved me." She popped a bite of pancake into her mouth.
"I thought you still needed a little more work."

"I probably do," he admitted gruffly. "But not on this. Marius helped me
pick out the blaster. It's the same kind his daughters use. Small and
light - relatively speaking - but with a lot of firepower."

"Then what do I do with the gun Jannia gave me?" Kerra asked.

"Jannia." Aden rolled his eyes. "Someone should teach that girl to mind
her own business."

"Yes, Jannia. I saw her for a few moments last night. She gave me a small
hand blaster, one Vaia gave her when they first became partners, and a
poison capsule."

"Poison capsule?"

"In case Gandes kills you and takes my gun."

"She expects you topoison him?"

"No, myself. You know, I'm really, really, glad your friend has decided
she likes me. She's a very scary individual."

Aden nodded slowly. "She certainly is. But if you'd known her before..."

"I don't think she's changed as much as you think she has," Kerra said.

Aden shook his head. "You wouldn't know." He held out his hand. "Let me
see it."

"The poison capsule?" Kerra asked. "Why?"

"Not the capsule. That, I want you to toss in the waste processor. The
blaster."

Kerra withdrew the weapon from its holster, hidden against her thigh
under the soft folds of her skirt. It was small, no longer than her own
hand and made of a lightweight metal-and-synthetic alloy. She placed it
in Aden's open palm, watching his eyes. They seemed more gray now than
blue, dark and unreadable.

"This is a good holdout weapon, Doc, but it won't be very accurate except
at close range. I don't want Gandeswithin close range of you. The weapon
I got you isn't as pretty, and you'll have to build up your arm strength
to use it properly, but I'd feel better if you kept both."

"You'll teach me?" Kerra asked.

Aden shook his head. "I'm not the man for the job. The idea of my sweet,
innocent Kerra wielding a deadly weapon still makes my insides squirm. I
wouldn't be a good teacher for you."

"Then who?"

"Dorcia."

"Dorcia Henner? The one who runs the dress shop? You're kidding, right?"

"She runs a dress shop now, my girl, but in her younger days, she was one
of the best bounty hunters in the business."





The Dorcia Henner who instructed Kerra in the art of firing a
directed-energy weapon seemed like a very different creature from one who
had helped her pick out lingerie. From the second Kerra had explained
what she wanted, she'd been all business. She followed a no-nonsense,
hands-on approach - "hands-on" in the literal sense. At first, the
intrusive degree of touching from the older woman made Kerra
uncomfortable. But as the lessons progressed and Dorcia's firm
corrections to her grip and her stance became gradually more minute and
more infrequent, Kerra understood what was happening. She had always
thought of learning as a function of the mind alone. Dorcia's technique
was to bypass the mind almost entirely, to train the muscles, the
reflexes, until it was no longer necessary for Kerra to think about what
she was doing.

"If you have to stop and think about how to fire," Dorcia told her
sternly, "you're already dead."

The two weeks Aden had given Kerra to learn what she needed to know
passed quickly. When Kerra wasn't on the firing range, she was with
Jannia, who had taken it upon herself to teach Kerra hand-to-hand
fighting. In this, Kerra's progress was less impressive. A small woman,
and never an athletic one, she simply lacked the strength to hold her own
against a larger, stronger opponent. And Jannia was much, much stronger
than she looked. What little body mass she had was apparently devoted
almost entirely to muscle.

Kerra collapsed into her bed each night too exhausted to do much more
than burrow into the haven of Aden's embrace before falling so deeply
asleep it was doubtful a full-scale reactor explosion would wake her.

Finally, to Kerra's intense gratitude, Aden's patience wore out. "It
could take you months to learn everything those two think they can teach
you," he told her over lunch one day. "I've got a reputation to repair.
You can refine your aim on your own, and as for Jannia's misguided
efforts to turn you into a tavern brawler, I can think of much better
things you could be doing with your energy."

"Do me a favor. You tell her that." Kerra took a small sip of the hot,
reddish beverage, sweet but with a surprisingly tart backtaste, to which
she was slowly becoming addicted. "We're going to have to stock the ship
with some of thisbaras stuff."

"Already done." Aden grinned. "I've had the ship stocked and prepped for
a week now. After all, I had to do something while you were letting Jann
beat on you."

"So when were you thinking of leaving?" she asked him.

"The girls have already started the preflight on theFolly. There's no
reason we shouldn't head out today too, as soon as we've seen them off."
He rose, relieving Kerra of her half-full cup and taking it to the flat's
built-in recycler unit. "All we have to do is grab our personal things
and head out."

"Where are we going?" Kerra asked as she followed him into the bedroom.
"You never mentioned anything about a contract."

"What, you expected one to just drop into our laps, out here in the
middle of nowhere? Even if a potential client managed to find the place,
he'd never get clearance to land. This is a members-only club, honey. We
like it that way. No, if we want a contract, we have to go looking for
one."


"So where did you have in mind?"
================================


"I thought we might head out Kethry way. The Kethrians as a race are a
little xenophobic, so they don't leave the homeworld much, except for a
few rogues like Vaia's grandmother. Most offworld commerce is handled by
outside interests. The pay's good, but I haven't been back there since
Vaia and I split up."

"Why?" Kerra asked.

"It's no place for an unaccompanied male," Aden said. "But I'm sure
you'll protect me, won't you, Doc?"

"From the rapacious intentions of all those man-hungry Kethrians?" Kerra
grinned back. "Well, I'll try."

"It's the duty of every female to protect the tender sensibilities of the
innocent males under her care," Aden told her solemnly, sounding
scholarly and very un-Adenlike. "Landless younger daughters are always on
the lookout for an opportunity to raid the harems of those more blessed
by fate."

"You sound like you're quoting from a guidebook." Kerra giggled.

"Well, maybe we should write one. We can take notes while we're there. Do
you take dictation?"

Aden yelped in startled pain as Kerra's boot heel came down hard on his
instep. "Okay, okay, no dictation. You know, I think I'm glad we're
leaving when we are. Jannia's been a very bad influence on you."

"And you haven't?" Kerra raised an eyebrow.

Aden chuckled and made a ribald comment that shocked Kerra into gales of
uncontrollable laughter.

"See what I mean, Vaia?" Jannia said loudly as Aden and Kerra approached
theWisdom's Folly. "Sex. Rots the mind. It's turned them into a pair of
laughing idiots." Her tone was dry, but held a note of sterile humor.

"Hello, Wise," Aden said easily. "You really should try it, you know."

"I've had all of it I ever care to, as you well know," Jannia hissed
icily.

"I meant laughing."

Jannia just snorted, turning her full attention to Kerra. "I guess this
is it for a while, Telsier. Take care of yourself."

"I will. You, too."

Jannia disappeared inside the ship without a further word, clearly
considering her farewells made.

"Is it my imagination, or is she getting worse?" Aden asked concernedly.
"I thought she'd lightened up a bit with Doc, but - "

"What Gandes did to her is a poorly healed wound on her soul, Aden, and
learning of his return has torn it open to bleed fresh," Vaia said sadly.
"Still, perhaps it will be a good thing in the end. Perhaps that is what
it will take to finally heal." She extended both long, graceful hands,
which Aden took firmly in his own, his strong fingers meshed with hers.
"Go in safety, my friend," she said. "And try not to be too much of an
ass."

Kerra laughed, reflecting once again how much she liked Aden's friends.

"Now go, start your preflight," Vaia instructed. "I would speak with your
partner privately."

Aden glanced at Kerra, who nodded. Then he turned, and started toward his
ship.

Vaia watched until Aden was safely out of earshot before turning back to
Kerra.

"He also has healing to do," Vaia said softly. "When Jannia first met
him, she had feelings for him...strong ones. But being the man that he
is, Aden would never take advantage of one so young. He told her as
gently as he could, but he knew he had hurt her. He felt terrible about
it - she'd known so little love in her life. Everyone, even her own
parents, had rejected her. I went to Aden's cabin that night to assure
him he'd done what he had to do, that Jannia needed his friendship more
than - what she thought she wanted from him. I had not planned to share
his bed that night. It simply - happened. If I had not left her, or if I
had gone back as I planned..." Vaia shook her head. "That was why she was
alone that night, nursing her hurt...but still, hurt and angry as she
was, she would not tell Gandes where to find me, and so it went worse for
her than it might have."

"He blames himself for what happened to her." Jannia had implied as much.

Vaia nodded. "And the possibility that it may happen again...this time to
the woman he loves...terrifies him to the very core of his heart. If you
come to harm in this, I think it will destroy him utterly." The older
woman's eyes were raw with concern. "I know his overprotectiveness must
seem maddening at times, but it is only because the loss of you would
kill his soul. I beg you, take care of yourself... and of him."

"You still love him," Kerra accused wonderingly.

"And always will," Vaia confirmed. "But I am what I am, and could never
be the woman he needs. That woman is you, Kerra Telsier, whether he ever
admits it to himself or not."


"I'll look after him, Vaia," Kerra promised. "Take good care of Jann,
okay?"


"I always have, except once. Go in safety, Kerra Telsier."

"And you." Kerra clasped Vaia's hands just as Aden had, then turned, and
half-ran back toward theGolden Key , and Aden.





Kethry lay some five weeks travel at high warp from the chaotic safety of
Beckhaven Station. This gave Aden and Kerra some needed time alone, to
explore this strange love that seemed to have sprung out of nowhere.
Here, there was no one else to interfere - and nowhere to run.


A mixed blessing if ever there was one
======================================


, thought Aden, scanning the bridge navigation console, searching for
course deviations that might have occurred while they slept. Hyperspace
travel was not an exact science.

Ideally, most deviations could be prevented entirely if one crew member
monitored the navigational arrays at all times. But there were only the
two of them, and Aden would be damned if he would waste what little time
he had alone with Kerra watching a nav board while she slept alone.

Kerra worked beside him in companionable silence, doing an inventory of
the supplies they'd need when they finally made planetfall.

There was no question that Aden liked having Kerra there to talk to. To
hold in his arms at night and make wild, sweet love to until he began to
wonder if the silly grin on his face would ever fade. More than liked it.
Kerra's presence on his ship and in his bed was like a potent, addictive
drug. The more he had of her, the more he wanted.

Still - some traitorous part of him occasionally missed the solitude. The
long periods of silence, alone with his ship and his thoughts, when his
soul could find a place, a state, where it was almost at peace.

Somehow, in the past couple of years, he'd come to need that peace almost
as much as he did the excitement. There was little of peace in what he
felt for Kerra. His desire for her was like a raging fire, a fire that
burned hotter and brighter with each passing day. His fear grew with it.
Fear of what Gandes might do to her. Fear of what losing her would do
tohim .

If only...but it was impossible. This wasn't the life for her. She
deserved safety, security. A home. All those things Aden had never had
and never missed. He could tell Kerra missed them. It had been there on
her face, the few times she'd mentioned her family.

"Tell me about Kethry," Kerra said, bringing his attention back to the
moment.

Aden considered for a moment. Just what information might she be looking
for? "The Kethrians are one of the more interesting humanoid races," Aden
told Kerra. "You know that most humanoid races are pretty similar,
biologically speaking. Once in a while you run into a species like the
Kethrians or the Tarenash where the rules are a little different."

Kerra nodded. "I'm familiar with the Tarenash. They're not even
biologically compatible with other species without technological
intervention, on account of the way their sex cells divide in order to
get mixed-sex twins every time."

"I know," Aden said. "Vaia's part Tarenash, as well as part Kethrian. It
makes for an interesting combination. And she'll never have to worry
about an accidental pregnancy."

"I see."

"The average Kethrian pregnancy results in a litter of around eight, with
about a fifty-fifty chance of one of them being a girl," Aden continued,
enjoying the role of instructor. It was nice to know more about something
than she did. No matter how he'd come by the knowledge. "The males tend
to be small, soft-bodied, and a little on the helpless side. The females
are big, strong, and aggressive. They run everything, and keep their
males locked up in private harems.

"Sons aren't valued, except as something that can be traded for goods or
for genetically unrelated adult males. First daughters inherit
everything, with some scraps available for a second and nothing at all
for a third or fourth. An industrious second daughter can hope to build
herself a small harem and find work under either her sister or another
firstborn. Subsequent daughters tend to die of sexual neglect shortly
after puberty - unless they manage to get rescued by some offworld male,
like Vaia's grandmother did."

"You'd think there'd be enough men to go around," Kerra commented. "With
fifteen for every woman."

"Some of the highest-status Kethrian noblewomen have harems in the
thousands. Now,their younger daughters don't waste away at puberty. It's
the poor kids whose mothers only had a couple of males to start with who
get the shaft. Not too different from most other species that way, I
guess."

"Do they really have six breasts, like that idol Vaia gave you?" Kerra
asked.

"Hey, you try nursing eight kids with only two. Pretty as they are," he
added with a grin, causing her fair skin to redden. He liked that he
could still make her blush.

"No, thank you," she said, laughing. "I wouldn't want eight altogether,
let alone all at once! Can you imagine the diapers?"

"I try to avoid imagining diapers, Doc. Rots the brain." He shot a
crooked glance in her direction. "Funny, I pictured you as the type who'd
want a big family."

"I'd like tohave a family, I admit that," Kerra said, speaking carefully.
"Some day, I mean. Even if it were only one child. But - come on, Aden,
you don't really see me as some sort of brood mare, do you?"

Aden smiled wryly. "No - not really."

"Glad to hear it." Kerra finished her inventory and peeked over Aden's
shoulder. "We seem to be showing a tendency to drift spinward, have you
noticed? If we're not careful, we could end up closer to Mercala than to
Kethry."

Aden feigned a shudder. "We certainly can't have that."

"Why? What's wrong with Mercala?"

Aden's expression was difficult to read. "I'm not sure you really want to
know."





The spaceport town on Kethry prime bore a striking resemblance to the
interior of Beckhaven Station, except for two things. The town's streets
were open to the clear blue sky. And while there were many humanoid
species in evidence, Kerra had seen, including Aden, barely a half-dozen
males.

Each of these alien males had appeared to be sticking very close to
females of their own race. Aden himself kept very close to Kerra's side,
and for once she didn't think it was forher protection.

"Why did you want to come here, if it makes you so nervous?" Kerra asked
irritably, when Aden stepped on her toes for the eighth time.

"Who's nervous?" Aden moved out of the way of a passing group of
uniformed women. "I'm not nervous."

"Aden, you're squeezing my hand so hard I may never get the circulation
back. What are you afraid of?"

"You'll find out," Aden predicted grimly. "This is one of the easiest
places in the sector for an honest smuggler to find work - "


"Honest smuggler? Isn't that a bit of a contradiction?"
=======================================================


Aden ignored the interruption. "The Kethrians import and export
everything through offworld channels. Including a thriving trade in
non-Kethrian men."

"You mean, if you get on my nerves, I can sell you?" Kerra could learn to
like this place.

"Yeah," Aden confirmed. "For a big fellow like me, the average Kethrian
mate-trader might give you an even dozen of her own sons - or boys she
claims are her own sons, anyway."


Kerra's brow furrowed. "What would I do with twelve adolescent Kethrians?"
==========================================================================


"Whatever you wanted to," said Aden. "I've heard the Mercalans consider
them a delicacy, roasted over a charcoal pit and basted with - "

"Please say you're kidding," Kerra broke in.

Aden arched one eyebrow.

"You're not kidding."

"I once knew a guy who made a fortune running Kethrian boys into Mercalan
space. Real nasty guy. I heard he stiffed his buyers on a shipment and
wound up on the barbecue himself."

"I see," Kerra said. "Wonderful place you've brought me to. You really
know how to spoil a girl."

"Well, there's no planet anywhere in inhabited space where an offworld
female is safer," Aden assured her. "As long as you don't try to help
yourself to any of the local men without permission, no one will bother
you. As for me - I can handle this place, as long as it's clear to
everyone who I belong to." He smiled wickedly. "How are you at acting
possessive?"

In response, Kerra stopped where they stood. She turned and wrapped her
arms tight around Aden's neck, pulling him fiercely down to her for a
deep, hungry kiss. Aden's arms went around her, pulling her tight,
crushing her body against him. His mouth opened to her welcome invasion,
and she swallowed the delighted laugh that issued from his throat.

At last Kerra broke the kiss, breathless with shock at her own public
wantonness. "How was that?" she managed, once the air returned to her
lungs.

"That," Aden said throatily, "nearly got you ravished in the middle of
the street." His arms still held her, his large, strong hands resting
against the small of her back. "I'd have settled for glaring daggers at
any woman who dared look twice at me. Not that I'm complaining."

Kerra grinned sheepishly. "You seem to bring out the worst in me, love."

"The best, my girl. Only the best." He bent his head to drop a playful
kiss on her nose. "Let's get moving. The place I hung out when I was here
last is just ahead."





It soon became apparent that the establishment Aden had frequented on his
last visit to Kethry had vanished some time ago. After putting up with
several it-must-be-the-next-blocks and a few we-must-have-passed-its,
Kerra found herself considering the possibility of trading Aden in for a
few docile, obedient native lads in a new light.

"Aden," she said in exasperation, "the place is obviously gone."

"The place was a landmark, Doc. It had stood on the same spot for three
hundred years, owned by the same family. Vaia's grandparents met there.
It wouldn't have just disappeared."

"Maybe the last owner died without a daughter or niece to leave it to.
Maybe it burned down. Whatever. It isn't here."

"I'm sure it has to still be here. Let's retrace our steps."

"Aden, I'm not wasting another minute trying to find some tavern you last
visited over ten years ago. I'm sure there are other bars in this
spaceport where people go looking for a smuggler to hire - though why
this kind of business seems always to be transacted in bars I don't
understand."

"It's a very ancient tradition, Doc," Aden said. "Criminal activity and
chemical intoxicants go hand-in-hand. It's just the way things are done."

"Well, I'd like to practice another ancient tradition. It's called giving
up. People do it when they realize they're wasting their time. I'm sure
that the bar we just passed will do fine as a place to start. Surely any
bar located this close to the spaceport will do?"

Aden sighed resignedly. "Technically, I guess. I just wanted to show you
the place, that's all. They used to have a great band."

"Ten years ago. When you were here with Vaialora."

"Doc, why do you keep bringing that up? You're making me feel like a
cradle-robbing old man. What difference does it make how long ago it was?"

"Ten years ago you were still in love with Vaia," Kerra reminded him.
"Ten years from now, where will you be?"

"Good question," Aden muttered, so low Kerra doubted he'd meant her to
hear.

"It's a long time. Certainly long enough for one little bar to go out of
business."

"Hey, I just wanted to show you a good time," Aden said. "Make a few
memories, you know?"

"In a place you already associate with your partnership with Vaialora?
Call me vain, but I'd rather whatever memories you have of me belong to
me alone."

"I didn't think you resented Vaia," Aden accused, his eyes narrowing.

"I don't," said Kerra. "I don't resent Vaia, or any of the other women
you've been with in the past. What Ido resent is the idea that some day,
you'll be showing some other woman the places you used to bring me."

"Never happen." Aden took her by the arms and jerked her around to face
him, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I swore when Vaia left me that I
would never take on another partner, especially not a woman I cared for.
I've never broken that vow. Not until you. With you, I wasn't given a
choice. But you are the last. Once Gandes is dead and we part company, I
fly alone for the rest of my life."

Kerra swallowed hard, her throat gone as dry as a world too near its sun.
"I hope you don't actually think that makes me feel better."

"I don't know what you want from me, Kerra," Aden groaned.

"I'll tell you what I want," she told him. "I want all I can get of you
for as long as I can get it. I want this time with you to bemine . And
then, after it's all over and you let me go, I want you to be happy. Even
if that means loving someone else. The last thing I want is for you to
bealone ."

"Kerra, people are staring at us," Aden said, glancing nervously around
them. "I don't think we should be arguing in public like this. Not here.
Not saying the things we're saying. I'm sorry for whatever I've done to
hurt you. We'll go wherever you want."

Kerra closed her eyes and breathed a ragged sigh. "I'm sorry, too. I'm
just not used to all these - feelings. I actually thought making love
would make things simpler."

"I don't thinkmaking love is the problem, honey," Aden said, pulling her
close against his side. "Now, then, where did we see that bar?"





"What we should do," Kerra said several hours later, as they were sipping
drinks in a secluded booth near the rear of a rundown gin mill, "is stay
on the ship. Conduct all our business from orbit. We get along perfectly
on the ship. But almost the moment we landed - "

"All lovers fight, Doc. Or if they don't, it means there's no real
passion there."

"Is that your own personal theory, Aden?" Kerra asked sharply. "It's
passion that makes us fight? Then why, the first time we argued, did I
spend the night alone?"

"I think we should abandon this line of discussion before we wind up in
another public argument like the last one," Aden warned. "We can't afford
to appear like anything other than a devoted couple."

"You just finished telling me that all couples argue. Make up your mind."

"I just don't want the details of our - arrangement - aired out loud, in
public, the way they were outside before," Aden explained. "I admit we
were both at fault, but we've got to be more careful. Now, can we please
drop this topic, at least until we're alone?"

Kerra nodded. "So what are we supposed to be doing here, anyway? Just
waiting around for someone to walk up and offer us a contract? Because if
so, it doesn't seem to be a very efficient way of doing business."

"Well, a big part of what a smuggler does is waiting," Aden said.
"Waiting, watching, listening. You sit, and you watch faces. You can tell
from the way a person looks and acts whether she's here for a quiet drink
after work, or to meet a friend, or to meet someone who's a bit more than
a friend. People act differently when they're looking for illegal
services than when they're just looking for someone to take home for the
night."

"And when you spot someone who has this - look?" Kerra prompted.

"You listen to your gut," Aden explained. "Your instincts will tell you
whether or not you should approach. If you decide to make a move, you
offer the person a drink, ask them if they're looking for somebody. You
don't come right out and say what you're offering. You let them make the
first move.

"If your first instinct was right, they'll be evasive at first. You
introduce yourself, start up a conversation. Mention that you've just
arrived, and the name of your ship. If the person's really looking for a
pilot for hire, they'll ask questions about the ship - speed, hold
capacity, that sort of thing. You ask if they'd like to see her. Then you
set up a rendezvous, at the ship, at a mutually convenient time."

"So you don't get a lot of mysterious notes by anonymous messenger?"
Kerra asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"There've been a few. Yours was the first one I ever actually followed up
on. I don't normally like arranging private meetings with unknown
quantities, but there were - extenuating circumstances."

Kerra chuckled at the euphemism and raised her glass. "Here's to
extenuating circumstances."

Aden brought his glass up to clink against hers. He looked as though he
intended to add something else, but something caught his attention.
Setting his drink down, he put his hand on Kerra's. "Look. Over by the
bar. She just came in."

Kerra's gaze followed his, to rest on a young Kethrian - not simply
younger than herself, but quite young, not more than two or three years
past puberty - speaking quietly to the bartender. At first glance, there
was nothing unusual about the girl besides her age. She was taller and
more muscular than most Human females, with dark skin and deep red hair.
She wore snug-fitting leggings of some elastic material and a long,
flowing tunic that almost concealed the two lower pairs of breasts.

"I don't see - " Kerra began.

"Look how gray she is. It shows mostly around the eyes. She isn't well.
She's gone without for a long time. Almost too long."

Kerra almost opened her mouth to ask without what. Then she remembered.

"She's a messenger," Aden continued. "The most powerful Kethrian ladies
would never contaminate themselves by public contact with an offworlder.
She was probably offered a man of her own in exchange for handling the
preliminary negotiations."

"Negotiations for what?" Kerra asked. "How can you tell all that from all
the way over here?"

"I can tell what she is by the fact that she's sixteen if she's a day,
but still alive and most likely still sane. I'd also say she's fallen on
hard times, and recently. As for the nature of the negotiations, I may be
observant, but I'm not psychic."

The girl finished talking to the bartender and headed toward a row of
small tables lined up against the edge of the empty bandshell, carrying a
tall glass of something that steamed and bubbled. She seemed to hesitate
a moment as she passed Aden and Kerra's table, and something about her
expression made Kerra's stomach clench into a tight, uncomfortable knot.

"What do you think?" Aden asked softly, watching the girl take her seat.

"I think she's bad news."

Aden's brows rose at the soft vehemence of Kerra's words. "Based on..."

"On my gut, Aden. Like you said."

"Are you sure it isn't just the way she looked at me?" Aden suggested.
"Because in her condition, she would have looked at any male that way."

"That may be part of it," Kerra admitted. "But I could swear it was more
than just desire in her eyes, love. It was...I'm not sure I know the
word."

Aden frowned. "I didn't see what you did, Doc, but then, you saw how I
felt about you when I was doing everything I could to hide it, so I
suppose I should trust your judgment. Okay. We go with your call on this
one."

"Spoken like a true partner, partner." Kerra smiled warmly, taking his
strong hand in hers. "We may make it through this relationship in one
piece, after all."





The rest of that evening passed without any other evidence of potential
business. Finally Aden agreed, after several loud and pointed yawns from
Kerra, to go back to the ship until morning. She leaned into his side as
they walked back toward the spaceport, letting the strong, manly arm
around her shoulders support her tired body. She wasn't used to alcohol.
She'd thought it would help her release her inhibitions, make her more
spontaneous, less reserved, more relaxed. Well, it had certainly relaxed
her. But not in quite the way she'd had in mind. Thank the stars she had
stuck to soft drinks until the later part of the evening, or Aden would
have been carrying her slumbering body back to theKey .

Not that the thought of being borne home in Aden's arms didn't have a
certain appeal. His broad, strong shoulder would be the perfect pillow
for her tired head, his thick hair soft against her cheek. Still, the
symbolism would have been all wrong. She'd fought hard to convince him to
treat her as a true partner. She wouldn't sacrifice the progress she'd
made for a few moments' comfort.

"I hope you have a little energy left, sleepyhead," Aden drawled softly,
turning his head to bury his face in her hair. "Because sleep isn't
what's first in my mind."

An impish smile flickered on Kerra's lips. "Just be very slow and gentle,
and I'm sure you won't even wake me."

Aden pulled her more tightly into his arms and kissed her, his strong
arms pulling her clear off the ground, crushing her against his chest.
Her body responded instantly, already fully awake and aroused when he
released her. He let her slide down this body, feel his arousal against
the soft flesh of her belly.

"So you think you can sleep through my lovemaking, hmmm?" Aden's eyes
glittered with smug irony. Kerra had to concede his point. Every cell in
her body felt electrified. She could not possibly have slept, now, until
he finished what he'd started.

She opened her mouth to say so, but the words died on her tongue.

The sudden blankness of Aden's gaze was all the warning Kerra had. His
body went slack in her arms. His knees gave way and he fell heavily
against her. Kerra barely reacted in time to catch him before his head
struck the hard pavement.

Kerra fell to her knees, Aden's head and shoulders cradled in her lap.
Looking down, she saw a small, needlelike projectile protruding from his
upper arm. A small stain of blood was beginning to spread around it.

That was all her mind had time to register. That, and the sharp, stinging
pain in her shoulder before unconsciousness claimed her, too.






CHAPTER 7
=========


Aden awakened to the sensation of a million tiny lasers trying to burn
their way out of his skull. He tried to open his eyes, but whatever
sadistic intelligence controlled the lasers took that opportunity to
focus their full blinding energy straight through his eyeballs. Moaning
in agonized protest, Aden tried to sit up. A full barrage of photon
cannon exploded his brain from the inside.

He'd never had a hangover like this in his life. If he could just survive
it with his cranium intact, he swore to whatever gods or powers might be
listening that he'd never drink again. The odd thing was, he couldn't
remember having had all that much. He wouldn't have, not when he had to
keep alert and sharp for Kerra's sake. Still, he had to have
miscalculated somewhere along the line. He didn't even remember returning
to the ship last night. His last memory was of Kerra's teasing comments
about sleeping through his lovemaking, and the lesson he'd been teaching
her when...


When what?
==========


Shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear away the cobwebs, and
unleashing a fresh barrage of artillery in his unfortunate skull in the
process, Aden forced open his eyes.

The light assaulting his eyes seemed just a tiny bit less blinding this
time. Gradually, as his eyes began to adjust, Aden took in his
surroundings.

He lay in a small, cell-like room barely large enough to hold the narrow
bed on which he lay. Featureless pale green walls rose to meet a thin
strip of claustrophobically low ceiling, from which hung an unshielded
light source. A low, narrow door, painted the same sick green as both
walls and ceiling, faced the foot of the bed.

There was definitely more going on here than some incompetent Kethrian
bartender mixing him unsolicited doubles.

A second attempt to rise was more successful than the first - but not by
much. The pain, which by now had subsided to a dull, throbbing ache, shot
back through his head with the force of a lightning strike. Aden slumped
on the edge of the bed, clutching his poor, mistreated skull in both
hands and groaning.

Where the hell was Kerra, anyway? He could have used someone with medical
training right about now.

A hot jolt of fear twisted his stomach. Kerra. What had they done with
her? The thought of her out there alone, with no one to protect her, or
worse, a prisoner herself...

He tried to fight back the rising tide of panic. It wouldn't help her.
He'd failed her, letting her be snatched literally out of his arms. He
had to get out of here, to find her. He had to stay sharp. Alert. Calm.

The door opened with a soft click. Aden raised his head, doing his best
to ignore another burning stab of pain, and turned his full, furious
attention on the figure framed in the doorway.

"What the hell have you done with my partner?" Aden's fingers itched to
wrap themselves man's throat. Then, belatedly, Aden registered the
fellow's small, almost childlike stature, his dark skin, his once-flaming
hair now faded to almost gray. Aden was seeing what no offworlder was
ever permitted to see. A full-blooded Kethrian male. Which could mean
only one thing.

Kerra hadn't been stolen from his arms after all. He had been stolen from
hers. Which meant that she was probably all right, at least for the
moment. And that Aden was, figuratively speaking, balls-deep in an active
volcano.

"Where the hell am I? What is this place?" Aden glared down at the
diminutive Kethrian from his full two-meter height, eyes blazing with
frustrated wrath.

If Aden had expected to inspire fear in the native man, he had obviously
miscalculated. The Kethrian regarded him unflinchingly from the low,
narrow doorway, calmly waiting for Aden's tirade to run its course.

When he finally answered, his voice reminded Aden of the butler in one of
those absurd historical holovids. "You are in the private chamber
normally reserved for the Mistress' senior mate, where you will be housed
until more suitable quarters can be arranged."

This was where his captor kept her senior mate? Aden sure as hell didn't
want to see the rest of the harem, in that case. "Tell your mistress not
to bother. I won't be staying long."

"I think you will find leaving somewhat difficult," said the Kethrian in
that maddeningly civil tone. "The harem chamber is underground, with only
one stasis-sealed and heavily guarded exit."


"I see," said Aden. "Your boss is a real romantic, isn't she?"
==============================================================


If this barb had any effect at all on the Kethrian, it certainly didn't
show. "I have been instructed to see that you are properly prepared for
the honor of sharing the Mistress' bed. You seem sufficiently rested from
your journey here - "

Aden almost laughed. What a flair for euphemism this guy had! If there
were really only one way in or out, the shrimp had to know the manner and
condition in which Aden had arrived. "Yeah," Aden snorted. "I had a real
long, deep sleep. Your boss's flunky saw to that. I hope she paid her
well, because the kid did a real smooth job."

Aden could not tell if the Kethrian's expression was calmly blank because
he was schooling his features to appear that way, or because he honestly
didn't know what the hell Aden was talking about.

Briefly Aden considered just bashing Jeeves here over the head and taking
his chances. He'd probably have done just that a few years ago, but
experience had taught him that that kind of rash behavior generally
landed a guy in even worse trouble. A smart operator just didn't go
around beating up his only known source of inside information. Not before
he'd milked the poor slob for all he was worth.

No, irritating as he was, the guy might be useful.

"What exactly does this 'preparation' entail?" Aden hoped it was a long,
involved process requiring extensive contact with an experienced native
male. He certainly couldn't recall there having been any special ritual
required before he was welcome in Vaia's bed.

"Long, hot baths to improve the circulation of blood to your male
member," the Kethrian answered. "A diet rich in carbohydrates and
seasoned with herbs known to increase endurance and potency. Appropriate,
nonrestrictive clothing." He cocked a disapproving eye at Aden's
snug-fitting leather pants. "It will take some time to obtain something
suitable in the proper size. It is fortunate that the Mistress will be
undergoing theKyantiri in thanksgiving to the Goddesses for bringing such
a magnificent, exotic being to her harem."

"Kyantiri?" Aden asked. He had never heard of such a rite. There were
gaps in what Vaia had been willing to discuss with him. Hell, there'd
been gaps in what she knew. Big, dangerous gaps.

"My apologies - I forgot that an offworlder would not necessarily be
familiar with our ways," said the Kethrian. "TheKyantiri is a cleansing
ritual whereby the women of our race abstain from the nourishment of
their carnal appetites as a sacrifice to the Goddesses."

A pang of pure, unleavened terror stabbed at the base of Aden's spine.
The urge to knock his jailer senseless and simply take his chances
threatened to overwhelm Aden's reason. Abstinence. He would bet every
last curl on Kerra's head that more than simple religious piety had
prompted his unseen captor's act of thanksgiving.

No, it was insurance, pure and simple. A way to ensure that her precious
Human sex slave never regained his lost freedom.

Long-term abstinence was fatal to a Kethrian female. It triggered a
degeneration of the nervous system that destroyed her sanity before
killing her, slowly and terribly, as every system in her body shut down.
But before it reached this point, her body chemistry changed, releasing
some sort of subliminal chemical signal in an aggressive attempt to
attract a mate. And to make sure she didn't lose him to some other woman
later.

Pheromones, they were called. Kerra had provided him with the word,
though just now he couldn't remember the exact circumstances of that
conversation. Humans released them, too, as did many lower species,
though generally not in such a potent from. Potential mates would
subconsciously detect these subtle scents in the air and be attracted by
them.

But the altered Kethrian pheromones did much more than simply attract a
mate. They acted upon the male's own nervous system, altering something
in his brain chemistry. Driving him mad with need for the one woman whose
pheromone signature was forever imprinted on his brain.

Like Gandes.

And now, if Aden didn't manage to play his cards just right, he'd get to
experience the effects of those changes firsthand.





Kerra awoke in a soft, narrow bed to the memory of a harsh, blinding
pain. Cautious about opening her eyes, she reached out first with her
other senses, trying to get some sense of what might have happened.
Aden's collapse, the sudden terrifying blankness of his features, seemed
permanently imprinted in her mind. But the brief waking, sometime after,
was like the shadow of a dream. There had been pain, and voices - men's
voices - and the touch of large, gentle hands.

The room was quieter now than it had been then, but she could still hear
the voices, too low for her to make out their words. One, she noted, had
a certain exotic lilt, as though the speaker's first language was not
Galactic. Curiosity overcame the last of Kerra's reluctance, and she
opened her eyes.

"She seems to have awakened, Master."

The accented speaker moved toward her, carrying himself with the grace of
some wild creature from a nature holovid. He was, as Kerra had already
expected, alien, of a species she had never seen before. He was humanoid,
like the majority of intelligent races, and very beautiful, but he was
also - green.

From his flowing hair, its forelocks braided and their ends tied with
feathers and bits of colored stone, to the toes his leather-sandaled
feet, the man was green. And not a soft, mossy, grayish shade of green,
either. His hair was the rich, deep color of evergreen trees in winter,
and the vast expanses of skin left exposed by his primitive clothing were
the bright, clear green of the first new growth in springtime. Of all his
features, in fact, only his eyes werenot green. They were brown. A rich,
solemn brown, and full of kindness and concern as he bent over her.

After what had already happened, Kerra should have been wary of trusting
anyone. But looking into this man's gentle, earth-colored eyes, the
proper degree of suspicion eluded her.

"Where am I?" she asked him.

"You are in the passenger quarters on a spacefaring vessel called
theViridian ," the green man said.

Kerra swallowed. "What do you mean, I'm on a ship? You have to take me
back!" She pushed herself into a sitting position, that elusive suspicion
finally finding it's focus. How did she know this guy wasn't a bounty
hunter? Maybe Aden hadn't been stolen from her. Maybeshe'd been stolen
fromhim.

"Relax, lady," said a sandy-haired, scruffy-looking Human, coming up
behind the first man. "You want to go back to where we found you, just
get out and walk. It's only about eight pads over."

Kerra lay slowly back down, feeling more than a little foolish. Of
course. She'd lost consciousness in the middle of the spaceport tarmac -
it only made sense that her rescuers would have brought her back to their
own vessel. Theirdocked vessel.

"She is hardly in a position to leave the ship alone, Master," the green
man protested, frowning at his companion. "The maiden has been injected
with enough narcotic to fell someone twice her mass. Have you forgotten
how close we came to losing her? Or our own position?"

"Jeez, Emarr, can't you tell by now when I'm speaking figuratively? I
didn't mean for her to really get out and walk!" The other man shook his
head in frustration. "And quit calling me Master, already! I emancipated
you six years ago!" He rolled his eyes skyward, as though appealing to
some higher power for the strength to endure.

Something about the green man's name nagged at the back of Kerra's mind.
It sounded familiar, somehow. A comment made in passing...

Hope grasped at Kerra's heart with quick, furtive fingers. Dorcia Henner,
the ex-bounty hunter who ran the dress shop. She'd mentioned a slave, won
in a card game, who'd gone on to become his master's smuggling partner.
Hadn't his name been Emarr something?

Both Aden and Jannia had told her that Beckhaven smugglers looked after
their own. She hoped it was true.

"I need your help," she said.

"We just did help you," the Human responded. "We picked you up off the
pavement before you got run over by a ground transport."

"Please," Kerra said. "I've got no one else to turn to. It's Aden Locke.
Something's happened to him."


Emarr eyed her warily. "What do you know of Aden Locke?"
========================================================


"Or of us, for that matter," his partner added. "We know every smuggler,
bounty hunter and gun-runner in this sector, and you aren't one of them."

"I'm new," Kerra answered with no trace of apology. "I'm Aden Locke's new
partner."Sort of.

"Aden Locke hasn't had a partner in over ten years," snorted Captain
O'Hare. "And if he did get one, he wouldn't pick a woman. Not again."

"Well, I'm temporary, and he didn't exactly pick me," Kerra admitted. "I
started out as a client. Things got complicated after that."To say the
least.

"With Locke, they usually do," the Human observed. "Ryan O'Hare, at your
service. And my associate, Emarr Dengas."

"Kerra Telsier." Kerra held out her hand, which O'Hare clasped in a firm
handshake. Dengas, in an oddly courtly gesture, bent over to brush her
fingertips gently, not with his lips as she had half expected, but with
his forehead. Uncertain of how to respond to such an unusual gesture,
Kerra watched the alien's face as he straightened. Before he released her
hand, she bent her own head, duplicating the odd salutation. The warm
smile in those soulful, earth-colored eyes told Kerra she'd guessed
correctly.

"Aden Locke is a fortunate man," Dengas said, and Kerra could sense that
it was more than just one of those shallow compliments some men casually
toss at women. He meant it.

Kerra swallowed the bitterness that rose in her throat. "Not that
fortunate, I'm afraid." She closed her eyes, the reality of what had
happened suddenly overwhelming her. Emarr laid a gentle, tentative hand
on her arm, and she found the story pouring out of her, to fall upon what
she desperately hoped were compassionate ears.

"Sounds like about the sort of thing that would happen to Locke," O'Hare
said at last. "Women just can't seem to get enough of the guy. You'd
think he'd have more sense than to come to a place like this with a green
partner, though."

Kerra somehow managed to swallow back the retort that balanced
precariously on the edge of her teeth. It was far too obvious, and
furthermore she did not want to risk offending Emarr. The alien seemed
sympathetic to her situation, a lot more so than his "master" was.

Then she caught a glimpse of the wry twinkle in Emarr's eye, and knew
that the same thought had crossed his mind.

"When you mentioned your 'position' before, what did you mean?" Kerra
asked. O'Hare regarded Kerra for a moment with subtle distrust. Damn the
man, he acted as though she and not that mysterious young girl in the
tavern, were responsible for Aden's abduction. And perhaps she was, in a
way. She certainly hadn't done a very good job of watching his back. Some
partner she'd turned out to be.

It was Emarr who replied. "My inestimable master managed to offend the
woman we had hired to act as a chaperone. She has abandoned us here, with
our business only half complete. Without a female companion to ensure our
safety, we will have to leave, abandoning the contract. It will cost us a
great many credits, not to mention the damage to our reputation." He shot
O'Hare a wrathful scowl.

"You can't be suggesting we useher ," O'Hare protested. "No
self-respecting Kethrian would let a half-pint like her stand in the way
of a man she wanted. She wasn't much use to Locke, was she?"

"She said herself that she and Locke were both distracted when it
happened," Emarr said. "That will not happen this time." He patted
Kerra's hand as one might a child's, a gesture that would have been
infuriating from Aden. Coming from Emarr, it was oddly comforting. "There
is more to this one than you see, Master. Perhaps more than she sees
herself."

"And all we have to do to get her help is risk our lives - hell, risk
ourballs - to steal Aden Locke back from some man-hungry Kethrian
ruthless enough to snatch him right out of his woman's arms. Frankly,
Emarr, I'd rather cut our losses."

Kerra glared at him, not believing what she was hearing. "But I thought
Aden was your friend!"

"He is, sugar," O'Hare assured her. "But there are some things I won't
risk. It won't do Locke a bit of good for Emarr and I to end up in the
same position."

"But you already risk your lives for aliving!" Kerra protested. "If your
positions were reversed, Aden wouldn't hesitate for a second!"

"Yeah? I take it you're basing that comment on your long years of
association with him? Locke's no more a saint than the rest of us, little
girl." O'Hare turned away, shutting out the angry disappointment in
Kerra's eyes. "And it's not ourlives I'm worried about."

"You know she speaks the truth, Master," Emarr disagreed softly. "The man
has saved both our lives, and more than once. We cannot do less."

"You want to wind up a slave again, Emarr, that's up to you. I might even
still be waiting when you get back - if you get back." With that, Ryan
O'Hare turned on his heel and stalked from the room, the door sealing
itself behind him with a sibilant hiss.





As Aden stepped into the main harem chamber, the room echoed with the
deafening silence of dozens of conversations ceased all at once. A
hundred pairs of eyes fixed in fascination on the newcomer, every one of
them belonging to a man no larger than a Human adolescent.

Fantastic,

Aden thought.I'm the new kid at the summer camp from hell.

Then one of the males called out a question, and another leaped to his
feet. Within moments Aden found himself surrounded by a great crowd of
short, dark men, each one wanting to touch him as if they did not quite
believe he was real.

Questions poured out of them faster than Aden could ever have hoped to
answer. From how far away had he come, and what things had he seen? Did
Human males truly keep harems of women, as it was whispered, and how many
women had Aden had? Was his manhood the same size as theirs, or was he
big all over? How could a Human woman be satisfied by only a single male?
How many women had he killed in the struggle for his freedom?


"Enough!"
=========


Aden's guardian surprised him with a voice as imperious as that of Marius
Beck's first wife. "Your tongues flap like butterfly wings! The Human
will speak when and if he wishes to, attend to your own affairs!"

There was some grumbling as the group dispersed, but no one challenged
the old man's right to give orders. Aden tried to imagine any of the men
he knew complying with that crisp dismissal. The thought brought an image
of the old man's kicking feet sticking out of the nearest waste processor.

The crowd's morose retreat gave Aden a chance to take stock of his
surroundings. The place was as far from Aden's idea of a harem as you
could get, but the reality was definitely not an improvement.

Where were the marble-tiled bathing pools fed by hidden hot springs, the
wide, padded couches where the mistress could recline while she enjoyed
her men's services? Where were the gaudy tapestries, the lavish carpets,
the big, muscular guards?

This place looked more like a storage facility for laboratory specimens
awaiting their doom at the hands of some demented scientist.

Kerra wouldn't be flattered by that analogy, he reflected. The thought of
her brought a renewed surge of panic. Alone on a strange world with no
one to turn to for help. She must be terrified.

All the more reason to find a way out of here. He had to pay attention.

Row upon row of gleaming steel bunks lined the walls of the long, narrow
chamber. Down the center of the tunnel-like room ran a bank of small,
square tables, each one surrounded by four angular, painful-looking
chairs that seemed to be welded to the cold metal floor.

That was all Aden had time to register before his escort seized his arm
in a surprisingly strong grip and steered him past the gawking throng
toward a door at the far end of the room. This opened to reveal a large,
square communal sanitory completely lacking in privacy partitions of any
kind. The fixtures were sized to suit the place's usual inhabitants. From
the looks of things, Aden was going to have to get down on his knees to
use the urinal, and fitting himself into one of those bathtubs was an
ordeal he didn't even want to contemplate.

"I don't imagine you could arrange for a little privacy," Aden said, not
really expecting any response. To his surprise, the Senior made a loud,
throat-clearing sound and shot a hard look at the group of younger males
emerging from the shower area. The boys quickly covered themselves and
dashed for the common room, leaving Aden and his escort alone.

"They really jump when you say jump, don't they?" Aden observed with
grudging respect.

"I am the Senior." The old man spoke the words as though no other
explanation were necessary.

Great. Aden was at the mercy of the man he'd booted out the harem's only
decent accommodations. "I don't imagine your authority would extend to
ordering that tub over there to grow thirty percent bigger."

The little man looked Aden up and down then, as if only at that moment
discovering that his new charge was a third again his height and nearly
twice his mass. If Aden's greater size intimidated him, however, he gave
no sign.

"Leave it to a woman to overlook such an obvious detail," the Senior
grumbled.

Had his situation been less grim, Aden might have laughed out loud. How
many times had he heard similar complaints about men from his female
friends - even Kerra? How many times had the words been aimed at him?

"Hey, don't worry about it." He assured the Senior. "It's okay if I can't
have a bath. Maybe if I smell really, really bad, your mistress will
change her mind and let me go."As if there were any chance of that.

The Senior looked at him sharply. "The Mistress ordered that I see you
had a bath, and a bath you shall have. I have the good fortune of being
one of the few men here who have never endured one of the Mistress'
punishments, and I intend to keep that honor."

"Yeah?" Aden blustered. "Are you the one who's going to wrestle me into
that - that little bucket, and hold me down while you wash me?"

The Senior met Aden's eyes in a long, steady gaze. "If I fail to fulfill
my Mistress' wishes, I will be punished. Whether through any fault of my
own or not. And the Lady Marelona's punishments leave scars."

Aden let out a string of invectives that would have made Kerra's creamy
skin burn crimson. Damn the scrawny little pygmy, he had played the one
card Aden had no trump for. Threats to his own person he could deal with,
but knowing that the consequences of his defiance would come down on
another man's head - Aden's veneer of ruthlessness didn't run quite that
deep. Not unless the other man deserved it, anyway.

"Well, I hope you have a wrecking bar to pry me out of there when I'm
finished."

Aden approached the nearest tub, thankful that at least the old Kethrian
had arranged for privacy. The last thing he needed was a bunch of
half-sized humanoids laughing at him while he tried to squeeze his long,
muscled body into a vessel that would barely have held Kerra.

Kerra. Stars, but he wished he knew what had happened to her.

Privacy had its limits. The Senior's level regard as Aden stripped off
his loose white shirt and dark leather pants was unnerving at best. He
made no move to turn aside or look away even when Aden stripped off his
underwear and stood as exposed and vulnerable as the day he was born. He
simply offered his hand to assist Aden in folding himself awkwardly and
painfully into the undersized tub.





In daylight, the tavern where Kerra and Aden had spent the last evening
looked even more run-down, even more disreputable. Pale sunlight slipping
its way tentatively through the grimy windows cast anemic patches of
almost-brightness on the chipped, stained bar, illuminating the scratched
graffiti of dozens of semi-literate and wholly degenerate patrons. There
was a barrenness, an empty, hopeless quality to the place that Kerra
hadn't felt last night. But last night Aden had been with her. Now he was
gone. Perhaps the desolation she sensed was her own.

Emarr, seeming to sense her distress, laid a comforting, brotherly hand
on her shoulder. Only that, and not a single word spoken, but it was
enough. Kerra's spirits lifted just a little, knowing that she was not
truly as alone as she felt. And that was what gave her the courage to go
forward.

The woman behind the bar was the same one who had served them the night
before. A massive, bearlike woman with three fingers missing from her
right hand. She turned her scarred face toward Kerra and Emarr, the
wariness in her topaz-colored eyes turning to frank, appraising interest
as she took in Emarr's improbable coloring.

"You have interesting taste in males, Human," the barkeep said. "If you
seek a buyer..."

Emarr paled to a dull, tarnished-copper shade and his fingers tightened
painfully on Kerra's shoulder.

"He isn't mine," Kerra said quickly. "He belongs to a friend."

The barkeep shrugged, only a trace of disappointment on her broad, ugly
face. "Good friend. If he was mine, I would never lend him."

Kerra could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks as she realized the
assumption the Kethrian was making. Then she swallowed, pushing the
thought from her mind. It didn't matter what this woman thought. Nothing
mattered, except finding out who had torn the man she loved right out of
her arms.

"There was a girl here last night," Kerra said. "I was here with another
man, tall, with long hair like this." She turned, flicking one of Emarr's
braids to hang loosely over his left eye in demonstration. "She spoke to
you, and after that she had her eyes on us the whole evening. I need to
know who she was."

"Why did you not ask her last night," the barkeep asked, suspicion
gleaming in her deep yellow eyes.

"I wasn't interested last night. Today I am."

The barkeep looked hard at Kerra, her gaze seeming to bore into the very
depths of Kerra's soul. "She was just a girl, like hundreds of others. I
do not know her name, her family, or who sent her, and I told the same
thing to the authorities. I cannot help you."

"Authorities?" Kerra's heart sank with cold dread at the sound of the
word. "When were the authorities here? What did they want?"

"My daughter called them. I would have told her not to bother, but the
girl was about her age and it - troubled her."

"What do you mean?" Kerra asked, her voice pale and hollow, already
suspecting the answer.

"One of my sons found her out back, when he was taking out the garbage.
Her throat had been cut."






CHAPTER 8
=========


Once, in the early days of his abortive partnership with Vaialora, Aden
had been forced to fold his entire two-meter frame into a standard sized
shipping container in order to avoid the tender mercies of a very angry
port official. Vaia had spent the next three days trying to massage the
aches out of his muscles.

Now, he was older. Not necessarily wiser, but certainly less flexible.
And every joint in his body screamed in protest at the cruelty of being
wedged into a vessel that would have made that shipping container look
spacious. Between that, and the indignity of beinggiven a bath by a being
about the same size as Marius Beck's ten-year-old granddaughter, Aden's
self-control was hanging by a hair.

"How long does a long bath have to be?" Aden demanded, glaring at the
Senior with a gaze that had made many a strong man tremble. "My legs are
going numb."

"Longer than it has been," was the infuriatingly calm reply. "The damage
to your circulation from those constricting leggings of yours must be
counteracted."


"What about the damage to my circulation from this tub?"
========================================================


The Kethrian continued as if he hadn't heard that comment. "If that is
your habitual mode of dress, it is surprising you are still capable of
mating at all."

Aden laughed at that, he couldn't help it. If Kerra were here, she could
offer an impressive testimonial to his abilities in that department. He'd
never had so much as a moment's difficulty, which was more than most men
could say.

"I don't imagine there's any chance you could leave me to soak in
privacy," Aden ventured. "I don't think there's any way I could possibly
be cleaner - you've already scrubbed every square centimeter of my hide
twice."

"My instructions were to supervise you personally until such time as the
Mistress sends for you," was the Senior's reply. "I was given to
understand that males of your species can be somewhat unpredictable."

The urge to show the little pipsqueak just how unpredictable almost
overcame Aden's good sense. Lovely. How was he supposed to come up with
any kind of workable plan with this guy looking over his shoulder? What
was he supposed to do, just lie around and wait for Kerra to come rescue
him like some feisty heroine in one of her holovids? The poor woman
didn't even know where he was. If she was even all right.

Give him a fast ship and a good blaster, and Aden could fight or fly his
way out of almost anything. But this - this was different from any
situation Aden had ever faced before.

Hell, it was just like something out of those foolish, nonsensical
holovid stories of Kerra's. For just a moment he wished he was really one
of those fictional smugglers, suave and slick and almost supernaturally
resourceful. Then he could plan and implement his escape using a bed
spring or a piece of embroidery yarn, or some weird combination of
chemicals found in the sanitory cabinet...

Aden's struggled to keep his face impassive, though he wanted to laugh.
The first seeds of a plan had begun to sprout in the back of his devious
mind. And stars willing, it just might work.





Emarr Dengas was becoming deeply concerned about his newfound friend.
Since learning of the unfortunate Kethrian maiden's cruel fate, Kerra had
been too quiet, too withdrawn, barely speaking and then only in response
to his own overtures. She had retreated into herself, taking refuge in
some lonely place where he could not follow. The light of hope was fading
in her eyes and his heart was breaking to witness it. Something must be
done, and soon, to put the light back into her eyes before it was gone
forever.

The thought brought an echo of painful memories, and Emarr frowned. The
Pale One was never far from his thoughts, but why would Kerra's situation
remind him of her?

Was there some connection between the two women? Was that what he was
sensing? Once again he cursed the cruel fate that had torn him from his
people before he came into the fullness of his gifts. Before he could
undergo the training that would give them focus.

"We know one thing now, at least," Kerra said, breaking the silence.
"That girl didn't abduct Aden for herself, or if she did, someone else
has him now. There has to be some way of finding out who - doesn't
there?" Kerra's cerulean eyes met Emarr's with the first flicker of
forlorn hope he had seen since they left the tavern.

"There is, as Locke no doubt told you, a thriving black market in alien
males on this world. But neither I nor my master would ever sink to
dealing in sentient merchandise, or aligning ourselves with those who do.
I fear you have chosen the wrong ally, maiden."

"But they exist," Kerra insisted. "There has to be some way of contacting
them. One person would do. One name. A place to start. It's my fault he
was taken, Emarr, just like your partner said. I should have been
watching our backs, not making out in public like a - "

"Woman in love?" Emarr suggested softly.

"He was right all along, Emarr. I don't belong with him. I was a fool to
ever think I did."

"That is a matter to be settled between you - after he is safely returned
to your side." Emarr laid his hands on her shoulders, looking down into
her sad blue eyes. "Myself, I believe you are wrong, but it is not my
opinion that matters."





Kiven - for Aden had finally managed to learn the Senior's given name -
proved to be a thoroughly efficient watchdog. The only moments of privacy
afforded Aden were those hours spent in his borrowed chamber, a room from
which there was no exit but the single door leading to the main harem.
Here Aden was left between the thrice-daily hot baths, the infuriatingly
intrusive massages, and the hundred or so other dehumanizing procedures
to which he was regularly subjected in the course of his "preparation."

The opportunity for his own brand of "preparation" would not arise for
some time, and so he gritted his teeth and endured.Literally gritted his
teeth, when two of Kiven's charges were ordered to remove every strand of
hair from his chest, arms, and legs, by a primitive procedure involving a
hot, sticky substance and brief moments of truly unbelievable pain.

Oh, for the freedom to simply bash a few heads together and make a run
for it! But there was nowhere to run to, and small as they were these
stunted excuses for men outnumbered him pretty thoroughly.

Then, of course, there were the guards waiting outside.

"How long does thisKyantiri usually take?" Aden asked Kiven during one of
the all-too-frequent baths. "Maybe your boss has forgotten about me," he
added without much hope. It had been only two days since he had awakened
in that sickly-green nightmare of a bedroom, but it seemed like decades.
No, like millennia.

"Four days," Kiven said. "One for each of the Three Great Goddesses and
one more for all of the Lesser. Today is the second day. No doubt you
will be sent for the moment the sun rises on the fifth day." The old man
frowned, regarding Aden dubiously. "You were not so eager yesterday."

"Let's just say that nothing could possibly be worse than all this
'preparation'." Aden shifted position, trying to relieve the pressure on
his back, which was beginning to go numb. "Besides, I need to do some
preparing of my own. I was afraid to mention it, because I don't know if
it would even be possible here, but my religion is pretty strict on the
subject."

Kiven's hands, which had been busily scrubbing the soles of Aden's feet,
went still. "I had been told that Humans were not a religious people."

"That's a common misconception," Aden corrected. "The fact is, there are
so many different religious groups among the Human species that it's
tough to keep track of them all. I belong to a rather obscure one - the
Church of Saint Kerra - which requires men to anoint themselves with the
oil of the rarepei-yu flower to cleanse their bodies of the essence of
all former lovers. The idea of sleeping with a new woman without
cleansing first - it goes against everything I've been raised to believe
in. It's so disturbing I don't think I'd be able...that is..."

Kiven looked away, and although it was hard for Aden to tell, he thought
the man's ebony skin turned just the tiniest bit red. "This is -
unforeseen."

"Look, I know there's no way we can actually get our hands on the real
flowers, but if we could at least try to duplicate the scent - it would
help, at least, I think it might. I'm afraid of what might happen if I
can't perform."

"The mistress would certainly be most displeased," said Kiven uneasily.
"You understand I can make no promises."

"I'm sure you'll do your best." Aden smiled, and leaned back to endure
the rest of his bath.





"What are you planning to do?" Emarr asked, watching as Kerra sat down at
theGolden Key 's computer. "How will this help us find Locke?"

"Trust me, Emarr," Kerra said. "This is what I do best." Her brow
furrowed in concentration as she called up the communications directory
for the spaceport area. "Since I gave up biosynthesis research, anyway.
Do you know if this spaceport has a police force independent of the Port
Authority?"

"You intend to go to the authorities?" Emarr frowned in disapproval.
"Ryan and I are here on illegal business, Maiden. Is it the tradition
where you come from to get those who help you arrested?"

Kerra shook her head. "I have no intention ofgoing to the authorities. I
just want to find out what they know. There should be something in their
computer records about that poor girl's murder."

"You want to illegally access a law enforcement computer?" Emarr's eyes
grew wide with incredulity.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Kerra asked sweetly.

Emarr shook his head. "I believe a murder investigation would have been
handed over to the city police unless offworld involvement was suspected."

"Oh, an offworlder was involved, all right," Kerra said bitterly. "I'll
have to check both. It will take longer, but I don't want to risk missing
something."

It took several hours, but Kerra finally found what she was looking for,
in the files of a Port Authority department called the Public Health
Annex. Just a few short lines to summarize the sudden and violent death
of one Chayallin Anadi, age sixteen.

Subject found behind tavern on 8th Street. Cause of death: knife wound to
throat. Preliminary exam indicates moderate deprivation sickness.
Questioned bartender. Possible involvement with unknown offworlders. No
names available.

Several lines down another notation had been added in a different font.

Contact trace dead-ends at Korialle Kaiandi, Mate-Trader. No proof of
involvement.

"No proof of involvement, huh?" Kerra muttered. "That didn't take long.
This Kaiandi must have had one hell of an alibi."

"Or she offered a very convincing bribe," Emarr suggested.

"Either way it's our first real lead. Come on."





Kerra paused outside Korialle Kaiandi's office, checking the jacket
draped over Emarr's folded arms. Its folds neatly covered the shining
metal force cuffs encasing his wrists. She fought to control the profound
sense of wrongness she felt. Firmly she reminded herself that this was
nothing more than a charade, that it had been Emarr's own idea. Still,
the sight of this noble being in restraints twisted Kerra's insides with
a sick, almost painful tightness.

"You don't have to do this, Emarr," she said quietly.

"Have we a better plan, then?" The warmth of his eyes on hers dispelled
her unease, if only a little. "These restraints are not real, maiden. I
wear them by choice. It is the absence of choice that makes a man a
slave."

Kerra nodded slowly. "I promise you won't have to wear them long.
Whatever you say, it has to be a little disturbing to put those things
back on after so much time."

"I suppose I must admit that," Emarr said. "But the sooner we do this the
sooner we can remove them."

Kerra nodded, taking his arm, and escorted him into the office.

The regal, elegant name etched on the door turned out to belong to a
hulking, two-meter-plus woman with the build of a stevedore.

"You've come to the wrong place, little one," Kaiandi said, regarding
Kerra with a liberal mix of suspicion and contempt. "I don't do business
with offworlders."

Kerra suppressed a surge of irritation at the "little one." In
comparison, the comment wasn't precisely unfair. Beside this imposing
creature, she must seem "little" indeed. Certainly she felt that way. If
it were not for Emarr's comforting presence at her shoulder, the
temptation to bolt might have overcome her resolve.

"I don't blame you," Kerra said simply, managing somehow to keep the
nervousness out of her voice. "I've heard all about the Mercalans and
their exotic taste in meats." She gestured toward Emarr, who moved slowly
closer. "I'm just here to do a little research. Market research, you
might say."

At that, the mate-trader cut her off, gesturing swiftly and furtively for
silence. Glancing nervously about, Kaiandi moved from behind her desk,
steering Kerra away from the half-open door before closing it behind her
and keying in the "closed" symbol outside. "Are you insane?" she hissed.
"The authorities have been on my back since yesterday."

"Relax, Ms. Kaiandi. The corridor's empty. My man was watching." Kerra
took that opportunity to reclaim her jacket, exposing the restraints
circling Emarr's wrists. "Watching very carefully - he doesn't want to
risk another punishment, do you, Emarr dear?"

Emarr shook his head in the slow, tentative manner he had adopted. "No,
Mistress."

"Speak plainly, little Human," Kaiandi said. "What do you want of me?
Does it concernhim ?" The naked avarice in her voice made Kerra's throat
grow dry. She moved instinctively closer to Emarr, feeling suddenly
protective.

"Not him specifically. He's mine. It's taken me a long time to train him
properly."

"A shame," Kaiandi said regretfully. "He is a magnificent specimen - a
strange color, though. Are you sure he is not diseased?" The
mate-trader's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Very sure," said Kerra with what she hoped was a convincingly smug leer.
"A healthier example of the male sex would be hard to find. He comes from
a low-tech world. No pollution, lots of dangerous beasts to kill off the
weak and keep the gene pool strong. And I can personally vouch for his -
ahem - abilities." Kerra knew she was blushing redder than a Kethrian's
hair at that moment, and hoped she wasn't blowing her credibility.

"But you say he is not for sale."

Kerra shook her head emphatically. "Not him. But I know where his
homeworld lies, and I know his people's traditions. Each year they
sacrifice a certain percentage of their grown sons to the forest god,
lashing them to trees until the wild forest animals find and devour them.
This year I decided to do a good deed and rescue a couple of dozen. I
might do the same next year if I could be assured of finding good homes
for them - at a suitable profit, of course."

"Of course," Kaiandi grinned. "He certainly is exotic - a primitive, you
say? I believe certain of my clients would relish the challenge of taming
a savage," she rubbed her big, meaty hands eagerly together. "I will, of
course, have to sample your wares myself before committing to your
proposal." The leer she sent in Emarr's direction made Kerra's intestines
twist.

"Not this one. He..." Kerra wracked her brain for a suitable excuse, a
way to protect Emarr's virtue from this voracious being. "His people mate
for life. It's ingrained in their biology. He is incapable of coupling
with anyone but me. When I return, I'll bring another. I'll have to make
you a gift of him, I suppose, since he'll be of no use to anyone else
when you're done with him."

Kaiandi grunted her agreement, leaning forward to clasp Kerra's hand in
the universal gesture of a bargain sealed. "When will you return?"

"Tomorrow, at the thirteenth hour."

"Agreed. Just don't forget my - gift."

Kerra rose, offering her profuse assurance that the promised male would
not be forgotten. It was an easy enough vow to make, since she never
intended to set eyes on Korialle Kaiandi again.





"Well, that was interesting," Kerra said, as she and Emarr made their way
back to theGolden Key, "but I don't think we accomplished anything."

Emarr shook his head and smiled enigmatically.


"We did accomplish something?" Kerra demanded. "What?"
======================================================


"She was the one. The one who arranged to procure Aden Locke for one of
her clients. But not the one who killed that unfortunate girl."


"And you know thishow ?"
========================


"My race have certain gifts," he told her. "Mine tend to be erratic, but
they have served me in the past."

"You mean psionics." This was an interesting development. There were
psionically gifted species, Kerra knew. The Shian-rel and Shian-ru came
to mind. "Are you an empath?"

"An untrained one," he confirmed.

"If your abilities are so erratic," Kerra asked, "how do you know you're
right?"

Emarr smiled ironically. "I have a feeling?"

Kerra rolled her eyes. "Any feelings concerning Aden's whereabouts?"

Emarr shook his head. "As I said, the ability is erratic. But we have a
lead, now. That is more than we had before."

Arriving at the docking pad assigned to theGolden Key , Kerra made the
obligatory integrity check to the ship's external security systems, and
frowned. Something was not right here.

"Maiden?" Emarr, picking up on Kerra's unease, moved closer to her side.

"There's a minor variance in the security shield's energy matrix," she
explained, indicating the appropriate reading on her scanner. "It's still
functioning, but it's resonating at a slightly higher frequency.
Someone's been tampering with it."

Emarr's eyes narrowed. "You are frightened. More than you should be.
There is something you have not told me."

Kerra touched the scanner again, this time inputting the code that
deactivated the shield. Before she could move forward more than a single
step, he placed a firm restraining hand on her arm. "Tell me."


"You know about Gandes?"
========================


The hate that filled his eyes at the sound of that name chilled Kerra's
soul. "Aye, Maiden. I know of him."

"He's back," she said simply. She shook off his arm and moved forward,
drawing her blaster.

Drawing his own weapon, Emarr stayed close to her side, prepared to
protect her if needed. Gaining confidence from his comforting proximity,
Kerra keyed open the hatch and stepped forth into the vessel.

The entry corridor was silent, empty. Cautiously, the two comrades moved
forward into the forked passage leading to the bridge and cabins. In
unspoken accord they moved toward the bridge, Emarr glancing periodically
back toward the living quarters to avoid ambush from behind.

It seemed to Kerra like an eternity before she stood at the entrance to
the bridge. One hand on the door controls, she raised her blaster.

Emarr's hand came down on her arm again. "It's all right, Maiden."

Kerra shook her head. She wasn't about to stake her life on his
admittedly inconsistent talents. Clutching her weapon more tightly, she
keyed open the door.

"What the hell are you two looking at?" demanded Ryan O'Hare. He raised
one blond eyebrow in Kerra's direction, noting the blaster pistol held
tightly and not quite steadily in her hand, its muzzle aimed straight at
his chest. "Put that thing down, Telsier. Somebody could get hurt."

Kerra complied slowly, regarding the abrasive smuggler through
suspiciously narrowed eyes. "What are you doing here? You made it pretty
clear how you felt about helping me."

O'Hare shrugged, a sheepish expression crossing his features so fast
Kerra was not certain she hadn't imagined it. "I changed my mind."

"Too little too late," Kerra retorted. "I've already got what I needed.
Within a couple of hours I'll know who has Aden. I'll take it from there."

"Yeah? How?" O'Hare's green eyes swept over her, taking in every detail
of her small, fine-boned form, and clearly his evaluation was less than
favorable. "Do you have any idea how heavily guarded some of these
Kethrian harems are? You think a little thing like you can just go in,
alone, and walk out with a prize specimen like Aden Locke?"

"I promised Emarr I wouldn't risk his freedom," Kerra said, all but
holding her breath. O'Hare was right. She needed all the help she could
get.

"Emarr risks his freedom for a living, little girl," O'Hare said. "He's a
big boy. Believe me, if he weren't willing to accept the risks he
wouldn't have helped you this far. I guess he likes you. He and Locke
have always had similar taste in women."

At this, Kerra shot an involuntary glance in Emarr's direction. Had she
misinterpreted the brotherly warmth in his eyes? No, she decided. She had
come to know the hot, craving look in Aden's eyes very well, for it was
there each time he looked at her. There was nothing of it in Emarr's
benevolent regard. He liked her. That was all, and it was quite enough
for both of them.

"What's in this for you?" she asked O'Hare suspiciously. "There has to be
something."

"What, I can't have reconsidered out of the goodness of my heart?"

"You had second thoughts about writing off your shipping contract," Kerra
guessed.

"I was given second thoughts, yeah," O'Hare admitted finally, after a
long pause. "Damn client threatened to have my ship impounded. She'd do
it, too."

"And Kethry isn't high on your list of preferred places to be grounded,"
Kerra finished for him. "You'd probably end up in Aden's shoes sooner or
later whether you helped me or not."

O'Hare said nothing. He didn't have to. She could see the truth of his
words in the shadows of his moss-green eyes.

"Do his reasons matter, maiden?" Emarr asked her softly. "If you attempt
this thing alone, you know what will happen. You will die without ever
seeing your Aden's face again. Or if you are not killed, you will rot in
some Kethrian lady's private dungeon as a hostage to ensure his
obedience. You need every ally you can find."

"You should have confronted this Kaiandi woman then and there," O'Hare
groused when Kerra and Emarr had filled him in. "If I'd been there, I'd
have got the information out of her hide."

"Then it's a good thing you weren't there," Kerra retorted. "Are threats
and violence the only things you understand? If we'd confronted her
directly we risked her alerting her client that we were on to them. As it
is, she won't suspect anything until sometime tomorrow when I don't show
up with the rest of the merchandise."

"So what'syour plan, genius?" O'Hare demanded.

Kerra stalked past him and plopped herself down in front of the computer
terminal. "If we've got the name of the seller, we can get the name of
the buyer."

"She's not going to have a record of an abduction and illegal sale in her
on-line files," O'Hare scoffed. "You think these people are stupid?"

"I don't need a record of the sale," said Kerra. "I just need access to
the planetary comm system. Everything you could possibly want to know is
there, if you just know how to interpret it. I used to do this for fun."

"Must have had a pretty boring life," O'Hare muttered.

"It's picked up a little," Kerra said. "Get comfortable, guys. This could
take a while."






CHAPTER 9
=========






"What's taking you so long?" O'Hare demanded. "I thought you said you
were some sort of computer whiz. You've been at this for three hours
already."

Intent on her task, Kerra didn't even waste a glance in his direction as
she spoke. "Have you ever tried to sift through three days of comm line
traffic looking for something you're not even sure you'll know when you
see it? Why don't you stop breathing down my neck and do something
useful?"

"There's not muchuseful to be done until you get us Locke's location,"
O'Hare grumbled. "God, I hate this planet."

"I'm not exactly planning on recommending it to my friends as a honeymoon
spot, either," Kerra retorted. "Wait. That's the third transmission to
Korialle Kaiandi's number from 6674-29486, yesterday alone. She's called
repeatedly every few hours for the last three days, but not today. Maybe
because she finally got what she wanted."

"Or it could be the lady's mother, and today she's got laryngitis."

Doing her best to ignore Emarr's increasingly irritating partner, Kerra
deftly fingered a few keys, and the caller's name appeared in reversed
color, superimposed upon the long columns of meaningless-seeming numbers.

"Marelona Issari." Kerra spoke the name softly. It's syllables had a
bitter taste. Knowing the name of Aden's captor made her real. Real
enough to hate.

The emotion was alien to Kerra, to everything she believed about her own
nature. It felt dark. Cold. Unclean.

Kerra swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat; tried to force the
unwanted emotion from her consciousness. As she once had with her love
for Aden, and with about as much success.





"No, that's not quite right," Aden told his unwitting accomplice, trying
to keep a straight face as he sniffed at the concoction Kiven held under
his nose. Doing so was a challenge on two counts - for one thing, the
Senior had swallowed his unlikely story as easily as a woman swallows
chocolate. For another, this combination was even more noxious than the
last one.

But it hadn't taken long enough yet. The little pipsqueak might get
suspicious if they happened upon the "right" combination too quickly, too
easily. So Aden just had to suffer through potion after vile potion,
until enough time had passed to make their eventual success believable.

"I am running out of potential ingredients, Human," the senior mate told
him. "Are you certain you remember the scent correctly?"

"Positive. When you've had to use the stuff as often as I have..."

Kiven's rude snort gave little doubt as to how he felt about Aden's
boasting. "You are worse than a woman," he said. "Quantity has nothing to
do with quality. If you have passed through the hands of so many women,
perhaps it is because you were unable to satisfy any of them?"

Aden didn't bother acknowledging that slanderous comment. "It should be -
I don't know, sweeter. Kind of like really bad wine. But with a sharp
smell, too, like that green stuff you put in the first one."

"There is no more of 'that green stuff,'" Kiven told him. "The closest we
could come to that scent now would be the disinfectant we use on the
commodes, and I am not certain it should be applied to skin."

"We'll just have to hope the other stuff dilutes it, then. We only need a
hint of it. A suggestion. And maybe we could add just a little more of
that purple liniment."

At this Kiven's nose wrinkled in distaste. "The mistress will not like
this scent. Perhaps we should rethink - "

"Look, do you think I'm enjoying this?" Aden demanded, turning the full
heat of his gaze on the little man - a gaze that had caused better men
than he to tremble in their boots. "I know what the stuff smells like.
But I've tried to get around this ritual before, and let me tell you, the
results weren't good. Now, unless you want this Mistress of yours to be
really disappointed, you'll keep working on finding the right stench for
the job."

If Aden's tirade had troubled Kiven's composed demeanor even a little,
the native male gave no outward indication. Still, he reclaimed the
drinking cup that had been conscripted into duty as a mixing vessel, and
moved away toward the sanitory in search of the ingredients for yet
another odiferous concoction.





"Telsier. Go back."

Kerra blinked. "What?" she asked blankly.

"Go back about two screens."

Complying, Kerra found herself staring at yet another screen of what
seemed to her useless information. For the past hour everything seemed to
be blurring together - into page after page of the same thing. Perhaps
they were going to have to go in with nothing but the location of
Issari's estate and blind luck.

"I'm beginning to see what you meant." O'Hare's words came as a complete
non-sequitur to Kerra, who favored him with a puzzled glance. "About not
knowing what you're looking for until you find it," he clarified. "Here.
These are her comm records for the last twenty-four hours."

"There's nothing there," Kerra protested.

"Exactly. Nothing sent or answered since approximately the third hour in
the morning night before last. About an hour and a half after that poor
girl shot you and Locke full of sedatives. This pretty well confirms
we've got the right lady, if nothing else."

Kerra swallowed, now completely and desperately alert. Fragments of
half-remembered conversation flashed through her mind. Details of
Kethrian reproductive biology hinted at. Speculations as to the probable
cause of Gandes' derangement.


What if it were already too late?
=================================


It took all the inner strength Kerra possessed to force these fears to
the back of her mind.

"I'm checking the last few transmissions," she heard herself say, her
fingers moving over the touchpad almost of their own volition.

The first one she checked was a call to Issari from the mate-trader
Kaiandi, almost certainly to inform her of the availability of one Human
male, in excellent physical condition. The second and third were to other
numbers also registered to Marelona Issari, most likely to guards and or
servants within her household concerning her new acquisition. The fourth
and last, interestingly enough, turned out to be to something called the
Emerald Temple of the Three and The Many.

"Looking for someone to perform the ceremony?" Kerra mused bitterly.

O'Hare chose not to treat the question as rhetorical. "Kethrians don't
have wedding ceremonies. They buy, sell and trade their mates and sons
the way most races do their farm animals. She might have wanted to have
the guy blessed, or something, though. A little ritual cleansing to rid
him of the stench of all those depraved offworld women." A wickedly
arched eyebrow quirked in Kerra's direction, which she chose to ignore.

"I wonder if I can find out exactly what kind of ceremony she did arrange
for," Kerra pondered, accessing the temple's comm system with a few
devious strokes. "They must keep records. Everybody keeps records."
Several minutes later, she found what she was looking for.

"Well, that's certainly helpful. What in God's name isKyantiri ?" She
turned to O'Hare in helpless frustration. "I suppose I'll have to look it
up somewhere."





"I think this is it," Aden said, letting a hint of doubt linger in his
voice. "I don't know if a priest of my faith would approve it, but I
think it will do." He nodded his satisfaction, though by this point, he
was depending more on Kiven's reactions of disgust than on his own nose.
Whether he had somehow overloaded his sense of smell, or whether he was
coming down with some sort of native rhinovirus, the effect was the same.
He could no longer smell a damned thing.

Which, circumstances being what they were, was probably not such a bad
thing.





"Four days," said Kerra thoughtfully. "That's a lot longer than I thought
we had."

"Four days," Emarr reminded her in his calm way, "of which two have
already passed." He had entered almost unnoticed a few moments earlier to
the unlikely sight of Kerra throwing her arms around his partner in an
exuberant hug.

"Long enough to come up with a plan," O'Hare said. "Telsier here was even
able to get a floor plan of Issari's estate." He beamed at her with open
admiration.

"Courtesy of a security company who ought to be ashamed of themselves,"
Kerra added with the first trace of a sparkle in her eyes since Emarr had
met her. "Not that they didn't do a great job of making sure no one's
going to get into that harem chamber."

O'Hare nodded, confirming Kerra's appraisal of the situation. "We're
going to have to cut this close. From the design of the harem chamber
itself it's pretty clear that it's not much more than a glorified stable."

"I wouldn't honor it with a word like glorified," Kerra said. "We're
betting that when the illustrious Mistress Issari wants to spend some
time with one of her mates, she has him brought from the harem chamber to
her private apartments. That's when we're going to have to make our move."

"How will we know when that is?" Emarr asked.

"According to what we've learned about thisKyantiri ritual, it should be
sunrise on the fifth day after the ritual commences - the fifthfull day.
That gives us three full days to figure out some kind of plan."

"That's a hell of a lot longer than we usually have," O'Hare grinned.
"This might actually be fun."





Marelona Issari's estate, an hour's ground travel from the spaceport,
looked like something from one of Kerra's old holovids. The mansion stood
on the cliffs overlooking a rocky, inhospitable stretch of coastline.
Towers and arches seemed to grow from the edifice with no regard to
aesthetics or function, adorned by intricate stonework ranging in form
from the beautiful to the grotesque. It looked like the last work of an
architect in the process of going slowly and dangerously insane.

It was like something from a dream - the sort of dream that could cross
the line between fantasy and nightmare in a heartbeat. It was so much
like something transported, whole and unchanged, from the background of
an episode ofThe Adventures of Jilla Silverstar that Kerra half wondered
if it were some elaborate trick of her subconscious.

She couldn't help wondering if Aden's captor might not harbor a secret
passion for fencejumper stories herself.

"Are you sure that thing's going to work?" O'Hare demanded, as Kerra bent
her head to run just one more check on the small electronic device
suspended from a chain around her neck. "I still say it would be easier
just to shut down the whole system."

"Which would require getting to the control box," Kerra reminded him. "A
dangerous undertaking to begin with. Trust me. This is the same thing I
used to get past the security precautions in the research facility on
Divras Four. I admit at the time I hadn't expected to need it again."

"If something happens to that thing we're shot," O'Hare grumbled. "We've
still got the whole system to contend with, ahead of and behind us."

"But our chances of being detected are that much less," Kerra insisted
quietly. "You don't think somebody's going to notice if we just shut the
whole system down? What if there's somebody monitoring?"

"Then we take her out before she can sound the alarm. Emarr and I do this
kind of thing all the time."

Kerra shook her head emphatically. "I don't want anybody killed. Not if
we can help it. Not unless our own lives are directly threatened."

"Kiddo, out lives became threatened the second we agreed to this
insanity. This lady's already proved she'll kill to keep our boy Aden to
herself."

"We don't know Issari killed that girl," Kerra protested. "Emarr didn't
seem to think so."

"She did or the trader did. Doesn't matter. I'm not taking the chance.
I'm shooting to kill."

Kerra opened her mouth for an angry retort, but was silenced by a single
look from Emarr. The alien looked from his partner to Kerra and back
again, fixing them both with those oddly persuasive eyes. "The maiden's
stake in this is far greater than ours," he said quietly. "Do not think
she does not know the risks. It shall be done her way."

O'Hare glared at his partner. "I don't know why you still call me Master
when you never listen to a blasted word I say."

Emarr grinned wickedly. "Have you not learned yet? I do it because it
annoys you." He touched Kerra's arm softly. "Is the device working,
Maiden?"

Kerra nodded. "Perfectly. Now all we should have to worry about are the
humanoid guards."

"Yeah, right," grumbled O'Hare. "Should be a piece of cake."





"You smell," said Kiven, "like the vomit of a poisoned zhai-rat." The
senior's nose creased like a piece of crumpled paper, and he looked as
though he might just vomit himself. Aden wondered, briefly, if he might
have overdone things, but dismissed the thought quickly. It was too late
now.

Aden himself could smell nothing. In fact, even breathing was becoming a
little difficult. His head felt as though it were stuffed with spider
silk, and something sour, viscous, and completely disgusting was
trickling down the back of his throat.

Which was worse, he wondered. This awful virus he'd somehow contracted or
the ridiculous way he looked.

Thechiri he wore - a long, loose, caftanlike garment - was so gaudily and
colorfully beflowered that in the bleak, colorless environment of the
harem chamber it almost seemed to glow. There were more ribbons twisted
and wound through his hair than notches on a bounty hunter's blaster.

Jannia should be able to see him now. If there were one thing in the
galaxy that could make her crack a smile, this was it. Hell, she'd
probably be rolling on the floor, giggling like a madwoman.

Just as well she couldn't see him, after all.

Kiven was studying him intently, a slight frown creasing his brow. Aden
met the smaller man's gaze, daring him to make some disparaging comment.
The time for restraint was, thankfully, almost over.

"I suppose you will have to do," Kiven said.

"They are here, Senior."

The boy who had stuck his head into the sanitory stood frozen in the
doorway, gawking. The look Aden fired in his direction was calculated to
melt steel. The boy fled.

Wordlessly, Kiven led Aden out of the sanitory and into the harem
chamber, where the escort sent to bring him to the Mistress awaited.

There were four of them, each armed with needle guns like the one whose
sting he'd already felt. Two of the weapons were trained on him, and the
others held at the ready. Aden measured his chances of disarming all
four. Not good odds.

The tallest of them topped him by a head, and all of them looked like the
"after" holos for the latest piece of state-of-the-art body-building
equipment. Gleaming, molded body armor emphasized the alienness of their
six-breasted figures. If Aden needed a reminder of what faced him if his
escape plan failed, here it was in the flesh.

"He stinks," one of them complained, her cold, hard tone bettering Jannia
at her worst.


"It was required… his religion demands…"
========================================


Aden stared at Kiven in surprise. The unshakable little Senior, who
hadn't blanched at Aden's harshest looks and most biting comments, was
now trembling like a fearful puppy. "Save it, Senior." The woman gestured
to Aden. "Come. The Mistress is most impatient. I doubt in her present
condition she'll even notice. Though I wouldn't hold our much hope for
afterward. You may want to say your final farewells to your ears while
you have the chance, Senior."

Aden had half-expected to be placed in some kind of restraints. Either
his escorts had great confidence in their own abilities to handle an
escape attempt or a very unflattering opinion of his own strength and
resourcefulness. They arranged themselves around him, front and back,
right and left. The woman on his left seized his arm, steering him toward
the harem's single exit.

The corridors through which Aden found himself escorted were at first as
nondescript as the harem itself. But as the guards escorted Aden up the
first flight of stairs, the decor and architecture changed dramatically.
And not necessarily for the better.

This was what Aden had expected. A fortress of decadence. Rich fabrics
and tapestries, alien artwork, and elaborate lighting fixtures hung
wherever there was space. Clashing colors screamed out from the walls.
The doors were intricately carved and gilded, with heavily enameled
hardware.

"Quit your gawking and walk faster," growled the woman to his rear. "The
mistress doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"I'm crushed," Aden muttered between clenched teeth.

The group emerged from the labyrinth of corridors into a wide enclosed
courtyard, roofed over by a high, arching dome of some translucent
material that let in the first faint traces of predawn twilight but
showed nothing of the sky above. The courtyard was dominated by a huge
fountain, carved in the form of a Kethrian mother nursing her litter. On
either side of this vast fountain rose massive stone staircases, each one
an impressive showcase of skillful, if inelegant masonry.

The guards led Aden up one of these staircases to the portal of the
Mistress' private apartments.

Compared to the corridors, the stairwells, the courtyard, the chambers
reserved for his captor's private use were surprisingly understated. The
colors were softer, the ornamentation on both furnishings and
architecture done with a lighter hand. This, apparently, was where his
captor kept the best items in her collection, the ones that appealed not
only to her greed but to her senses as well.

A bank of open windows along the eastern wall overlooked a turbulent
stretch of coastline, barely visible in the predawn light. Obviously
Aden's captor had decided to cut her abstinence ritual short.

She was reclining on a low chaise near the windows, and whatever Aden had
expected, it had not been - not been this - thisgirl .

The woman was young, barely on the high side of twenty, and small,
smaller than Kerra, nearly as small as the men of her race. Never had
Aden seen or even imagined a Kethrian female so delicate, so seemingly
frail. She wore a loose gown of a silky fabric decorated with whorls and
swirls of jewel-toned color, which obscured the contours of her lower
breasts. She could, for all Aden's eyes could tell him, have been a
member of his own species, but for the crazed, ravenous look in her eyes.

Artfully applied cosmetics obscured the telltale graying of her skin, but
this was not enough to conceal her condition - the ritual abstinence of
theKyantiri had pushed her system close to its limits.

"By the Three," she gasped hoarsely. "You're even more magnificent than
I'd imagined."

"I wish I could say the same." Aden stoically ignored a hard kick to his
hamstrings from the guard at his rear. He kept his full, undivided
attention fixed on the creature who'd torn him from Kerra's arms. Who
might have killed her.

His captor turned the full force of her glaring regard on the spiteful
guard. "Stupid bitch! I could have your leg ripped off at the knee for
that! Who told you you were allowed to hurt this man?"

The guard paled, shrinking back from Aden, sputtering, "Your forgiveness,
mistress. I only meant to - "

"Get out of my sight! Get out of here, all of you! And see that you seal
the door behind you!" She emphasized the point by hurling the nearest
breakable object at the unfortunate guard's head. Aden noticed a thin
ribbon of blood trickling down the woman's face as she and her comrades
beat a quick retreat.

His captor's gaze still burned with the echo of her rage as she turned
her full attention back to Aden. Her bright amber eyes bored into him
like twin lasers. "You," she snarled. "You'll soon learn to show proper
respect for your mistress."

"Respect? Somehow I don't think that's what you really want from me."
Aden moved toward the woman, slowly, one step, then two, three. He loomed
over her, his arms braced on either side of the chaise, pinning her there
by the sheer force of his presence. "If you wanted some meek, submissive
excuse for a male you would never have gone to so much trouble to get
your hands on a Human. No, you need a real man, don't you? You want to
know what it feels like to be pinned down by a body twice your mass, to
be helpless in my arms while I do whatever I want to you. You're tired of
always being the dominant one. All those poor sweet little males down
below, humbly awaiting the chance to fulfill their one and only function
in life - they just don't satisfy you any more, do they? And why should
they? If any of them had any real manhood to start with, you've caged and
terrified and beaten it out of them. So tell me, mistress, what are you
going to do when you've choked all the potency out of me?"

"You are a fool," the girl spat at him. "I will not have to choke
anything out of you. Already you are half mine, and once we have mated,
you will be wholly mine. All of you, even your anger, even your hate. Do
you not feel it? I can see it in your eyes. You want me. You cannot help
it."

Aden leaned over her, closer, ever closer, letting her believe she spoke
the truth. Let her think her scent, her pheromones, were beginning to
overpower his senses. Her amber eyes grew dark, shadowed with lust. God,
how she wanted him! It would be so easy. She was so willing, so
beautiful. He could have her. Hewould have her…

"You see?" she whispered as his mouth descended hungrily upon hers. "It
is already happening. My pheromones have already overpowered your
resolve. Or did you truly believe your foolish attempt to block my scent
would protect you?"






CHAPTER 10
==========







"What do you see? How many guards are there?"
=============================================


O'Hare lowered the powerful binoculars with which he'd been scanning the
estate's perimeter. The rescue party had already succeeded in scaling the
estate's outer wall, having used Kerra's blocking device to deactivate a
narrow strip of the fence's intruder-detection grid. Now they crouched as
motionless as possible atop a partition barely wide enough to hold them.

"I see three - one just off that big turret on the left, one by that
grove of trees to the right, and one near the front gates - as if anyone
trying to get in without permission would be stupid enough to use the
front gates. The two near the edges have dogs."

"Dogs?" Kerra asked. "I thought they only existed on Human-inhabited
worlds."

"Dogs for lack of a better word. I forget what the things are really
called. Have a look." He handed the binoculars to Kerra, pointing a
finger in the general direction of the turret. Peering through the
glasses, Kerra saw nothing at first, but as her eyes adjusted to the odd
quality of the binoculars' light-adjusted images, she could see the
large, armor-clad woman walking slowly along the estate's perimeter,
holding the generator loop to a four-tether energy leash. The kind of
leash that could be deactivated instantly, releasing all four "dogs" at
once.

The resemblance of these creatures to the popular Human companion-animals
was nebulous at best. They walked on four legs, and had tails, but beyond
that -

With a shudder, Kerra lowered the binoculars.

"I don't imagine that little gadget of yours would be able to deactivate
them?" said O'Hare with forced lightness.

Kerra's only reply was a dark scowl, barely visible in the scant light of
early dawn.

"They are but animals," Emarr said quietly. "Such simple, primitive minds
are easily dealt with."

Before Kerra could open her mouth to ask what the alien was talking
about, he had dropped from his perch beside her, giving her barely enough
time to deactivate another small portion of the detection grid before he
triggered the alarms.


"What the hell is he doing?" she whispered. "They'll smell him - won't
they?"


"Emarr has a way with animals," O'Hare said. "It will be all right. At
least, I think it will."

Kerra held her breath as she passed the binoculars back to O'Hare, who
watched his partner's stealthy progress with his mouth set in a narrow,
worried line.

"Deactivate another patch two degrees left. Another. Now one degree
toward us - hold. Damn it, Emarr, you're getting too close! Wait.
Telsier, how close is he to where the grid opens?"

"It doesn't," Kerra told him.

"What do you mean, it doesn't?" O'Hare demanded. "It has to, or the
guards would be setting it off themselves."


"It must recognize them, somehow," Kerra replied. "What's he doing?"
====================================================================


"I don't know. He's stopped, so close those damned dogs have to be able
to smell him. Hold on. I think - Telsier, deactivate the grid in a
one-meter radius around the guard."

"Where?" she asked.

"Twelve meters from where Emarr stopped, about thirty degrees left. Got
it?"

"I think so."

"Good," O'Hare said. "Now give Emarr a clear path to that spot. She's got
her back to him. There!"

"What!" Kerra asked. "What happened?" The frustration of not being able
to see was maddening.

"She never knew what hit her," O'Hare gloated wickedly, lowering the
binoculars long enough to shoot a wicked grin of triumph in Kerra's
direction.

"I said no killing," Kerra protested. "I thought he understood that."

"I never said he killed her. I said he hit her. You'd think after
spending all that money on fancy armor, they'd spring for helmets,
wouldn't you?"

"What about the dogs?" Kerra asked.

"I told you - Emarr has a way with animals." He passed her the binoculars
again, and as she raised them to her eyes, the sight before her was
astonishing.

Four of the most fearsome beings Kerra had ever seen, nightmare creatures
with serrated bony ridges on their skulls and fangs the size of small
swords surrounded the alien man, their massive, threatening size making
his tall, muscled form seem not much larger than herself. Their energy
leash had instantly shut off as the control loop slipped from their
handler's unconscious grip, but they made no move to attack - in fact, as
she watched, the fearsome beasts lay down one by one at Emarr's feet, and
closed their eyes in slumber.





Issari's words washed over Aden like a splash of cold water. Horrified,
he thrust the woman away from him, the force of his shove knocking her
into an undignified sprawl on the floor. Scrambling to her feet, she
opened her mouth to cry out, but Aden was upon her again, jerking her
slender body against him and covering her mouth with one strong, brutal
hand. "I'd rather have my balls carved out with a dull knife than sleep
with a conniving bitch like you." His voice sounded rough and hoarse in
his own ears.

Her eyes flashed at him, a matched pair of amber flames, rage warring
with the desire within them. His own traitorous body responded with raw,
primitive force to her closeness, fueled even more by the power of his
anger. The desire to throw her to the chaise and take her, hard and fast
and rough, was almost overwhelming.

But that would be giving her exactly what she wanted.

"If you cry out," he hissed, "I'll kill you with my bare hands before the
guards can even get through the door."

With that he released her mouth, lowering his hand only enough to hook
his strong right arm around her throat. Glancing around the room, he
searched for some kind of weapon, any weapon. His gaze finally came to
rest upon the shattered remains of the urn she had hurled at the guard.

Bending down to retrieve one of the largest shards while he still held
the woman all but choked her, but Aden couldn't manage much sympathy. Not
when his loins still ached with the result of her machinations.

"You'll never get past the guards," she spat.

"Oh, I don't think they'll give me any trouble. Not while I've got this
to your throat." He pressed the ceramic shard hard against her soft, dark
flesh, just enough to release a thin, scarlet trickle of blood. He could
feel her hard, nervous swallow against his hand, and bile rose in his
throat at the sensation. Never had he threatened a woman. Killed a few,
yes. Quickly and cleanly, in self-defense. That came with the job. But to
hold a woman's life literally in his hands, to feel her fear, the
knowledge that her death was as close as the hand pressed to the hollow
beneath her jaw -

He hated her beyond words, beyond reason, for forcing him to it.

"Now, we're just going to move toward the door, very slow, very quiet.
When we get there you're going to open it. Any sudden moves and your
blood is going to ruin this nice carpet. Understood?"

Marelona nodded slightly - very slightly, since with her smallest
movement the shard pressed deeper into her flesh. As one, they moved
toward the door, and as the woman's hand moved toward the handle, Aden
braced himself. Attacking him while he held a blade to their mistress'
throat would be a very stupid move on the guards' part. Aden had
developed a great respect for the humanoid capacity for idiocy.

To their credit, the guards did not seem to be idiots.

The one who had kicked him earlier began, reflexively, to raise her
needle gun. Her hand froze in mid-motion, hesitating for the briefest of
moments before dropping back to her side.

"Good decision," Aden told her. "Now drop it. All of you, drop them, and
kick them over this way."

Of them all, only Kicker hesitated, and she for only an instant. The four
women watched him warily as he kicked the four weapons behind him,
further into the room, and then gestured to the smallest of the guards.
"You. Take the belts off your buddies here and tie them to the bedposts
with their hands behind their backs." When she hesitated, he pulled
Marelona harder against him, so hard she gasped for breath. "Or don't.
I'd really love a good excuse to kill your boss, here."

The threat decided her. She moved further into the room, gesturing curtly
for her companions to follow.

"Other side. Stay away from those damn needle guns! Good. And don't try
any funny stuff. I'll be able to tell if you aren't making the belts
tight enough." Within moments, three of the four guards were firmly
secured to the bed. "Good. Now, slowly come around and pick up the needle
gun closest to you. If you even think about pointing it in my direction
you're going to need to find another employer. Good, you've got it. Now
shoot them with it."

The guard stared at him.

"You heard me, lady. You think I'm joking?"

The guard shook her head.

"Good. Shoot them."

The Kethrian woman's hands shook as she took aim at each of her comrades
and fired the drugged projectiles into them, one by one. Only their
motionless stance enabled her to find and penetrate the narrow bands of
fabric where the hard plates of their body armor joined together. One by
one they slumped into unconsciousness, their massive, muscular bodies
collapsing like wilted flowers.

"Now you," Aden snarled.

The woman swallowed, doubtlessly anticipating the less-than-pleasant
aftereffects of the toxin. But a single glance at her boss's terrified
face persuaded her to obey.

"Now that's loyalty," Aden told his hostage, watching as the guard
crumpled like a piece of sodden paper.

"Loyalty? Incompetence! I'll have them ground into meat and fed to my
harem as sausages!" Marelona's fevered eyes seemed to burn like the
quantum fires inside a starship reactor. Aden looked swiftly away,
disturbed by the passionate insanity burning in her gaze.

"Loyalty you don't deserve." Aden shoved her away from him in disgust,
mindful to thrust her farther into the room, away from both the door and
the weapons. Bending, he retrieved the needle gun from where it had
fallen, a few centimeters from the guard's limp, open hand. Marelona's
eyes widened as he trained the weapon on her.


"You can't - the dosage - "
===========================


"Is probably the same one your flunky used on my partner. I'm giving you
the same chance you gave her." The logical part of Aden's mind reminded
him he had lost conscious before he had actually seen Kerra fall.
Unfortunately for his would-be mistress, he wasn't feeling particularly
logical at the moment. "Sweet dreams,mistress ."

Smaller and lighter than her muscle-bound guards, Issari slid to the
floor in a slow, almost graceful tumble. Aden stood for a moment, just
staring at her. So small. So seemingly delicate. And yet she'd come
closer to stealing his freedom than anyone else had managed in the best
part of twenty years.

Turning his back on her with a contemptuous finality, Aden bent to
collect the blasters that were still clipped, untouched, to the guards'
belts.





"I think this must be how the guards avoided setting off the detection
grid," Kerra said, examining the device Emarr had given her, removed from
the unconscious guard's utility belt along with a fully-loaded needle gun
and a nasty-looking blaster. "It seems to be resonating at the same
frequency as the grid itself. The idea's so simple, I'm ashamed I didn't
think of it myself."

"Will it be able to mask all three of us?" Emarr asked her.

"If we stay close together, it should. It seems to have a radius of about
three meters. The risk of detection will be a lot lower than with the
blocker. Gentlemen, I think our odds of success just went up
considerably."

"Who the hell are you calling gentlemen?" O'Hare demanded in facetious
outrage. "Okay, let's find a way in before those other guards notice
what's going on over here. It's already getting lighter. We haven't got
very much time."





In about half an hour, when the sky began to brighten, the open window
would provide an incredible view of the sun rising over the rugged
coastline below.

That was about all it was good for. Aden gazed down at the waves crashing
against the estate's stone foundation. If the fall didn't kill him, the
sheer force of the surf pounding against the shoreline would probably
beat him into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp.

Which meant that the only way out was back the way he'd come. Through a
maze of stairs and corridors leading God knew where, filled with guards
the size of cargo shuttles. He needed a plan, but his brain felt as
congested as his sinuses. Now that his adrenaline level was dropping, his
traitorous body was again showing signs of an unnatural and unwelcome
arousal. He had to get out of here, away from the woman who even in her
drugged state was still giving off a dangerous level of pheromone.

Shaking his head hard in a determined attempt to restore clarity, Aden
went in search of a computer. If he could only get his hands on a floor
plan…






"Do you see anything?"
======================


Kerra shook her head, then realized that Emarr, upon whose shoulders she
precariously balanced, was probably not in a very good position to see
the gesture. "A lot of really tacky furniture, but no signs of
habitation. It seems to be some kind of study."


"Do you think you can get the window open?"
===========================================


"I want to use the blocker on it first. I don't think this masking device
was intended to let the guards sneak in windows. Just a second." Raising
the blocking device altered Kerra's balance, and she had to shift
slightly to avoid falling. Beneath her, Emarr drew in a hissing breath.
"Maiden, you are standing on my hair."

"Sorry." Deactivating the security field around the window took only a
moment. Getting the window itself open presented a greater challenge.
"It's locked from the inside. I'll need to cut through it. O'Hare, pass
me up the lightblade."

"Be careful," O'Hare warned as he placed the tool on her hand. "The sound
of smashing glass makes a damned effective alarm all by itself."

"I hear you." Kerra examined the window carefully, trying to determine
the location of the lock. Finding it, she couldn't resist a wry smile.
Issari had spent an unimaginable amount of money on the most elaborate
security system available on the entire planet - and beneath it all, the
outer windows were secured by only the simplest of mechanical locks.

Overconfidence, Kerra decided, was a wonderful thing.

Carefully, Kerra cut away just enough of the glass to get her hand
inside. A quick twist of her hand as she made the final cut popped the
glass fragment out toward her. A moment later, the window slid open, and
Kerra slipped inside.

A moment later O'Hare was boosted in through the window, and together he
and Kerra managed to pull Emarr inside.


"So far, so good," O'Hare whispered. "Telsier, where are we?"
=============================================================


Kerra hit a switch on the blocking device, calling up the floor plan
diagram she'd downloaded off the security company's computer files.
"We're in the office assigned to someone named Kildara - the housekeeper,
maybe. We're in luck - the route to Issari's flats is fairly
straightforward from here. The corridor outside leads almost straight to
the inner courtyard."


"What's the security like?"
===========================


"The same kind of energy net as outside, which shouldn't give us any
trouble. As long as we don't run into any guards..."

"I wouldn't place any money on our chances there, honey," O'Hare said.
"Better give Emarr the needle gun. He's the best shot of the three of us,
and getting one of those babies into someone in body armor is tricky
work."

"No arguments there," Kerra breathed. "I'm not particularly fond of the
things."

"Keep your blaster ready," O'Hare told her. "You're going to be using it
soon whether you want to or not."





There wasn't a computer worthy of the name in the entire master suite, as
Aden soon discovered to his disgust. He thought he'd come across
something in the small, overfurnished office area located off the primary
sitting area, but a quick inspection had shown it to be little more than
a glorified and unnecessarily complex communications console. Maybe Kerra
would have been able to use such a thing to access the estate's computer
system, but Aden's talents ran along distinctly different lines.

He was going to have to work blind.

Swallowing hard, he glanced back toward the main chamber where his
would-be mistress and her guards slept on in drugged oblivion. Why hadn't
he kept one of them awake? What the hell was happening to his common
sense? Stupid question. He knew exactly what had happened to it. He had
to get as far away from that undersized Kethrian she-devil as he could,
and fast.

He forced himself not to look at her as he reentered the bedchamber,
taking one last glance out the open windows to the shoreline below and
once again dismissing that option as suicide. Drawing in a deep, rasping
breath, he moved to the door, and laid his hand on the handle.





Kerra and her companions reached the courtyard without incident,
detecting no sign of either humanoid guards or the "dogs." All was quiet
- almost too quiet. Kerra's nerves were sharply on edge, and she found
herself almost wishing for some guards to fight, just to break the
tension.

"This is too easy," O'Hare complained softly, echoing her thoughts.

"I know what you mean," she whispered back. "If this were a holovid
episode, we'd just be starting to hear the eerie music that comes just
before the guards start jumping out every available doorway."

"That would be handy. Then all we'd have to do would be to listen for the
music. Too bad real life doesn't work that way."


"I'm not convinced this qualifies as - "
========================================


Kerra's words were interrupted by the piercing howl of what had to be the
loudest alarm siren in inhabited space.

"What the hell?!" O'Hare shouted, barely audible over the clamor.


"That," roared Emarr, "is the music!"
=====================================






The alarm claxon roared deafeningly in Aden's ears, a cruel assault on
his beclouded senses. Shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear it, he
grasped one of his stolen blasters tightly in his hand. Its handgrip felt
cool and solid in his palm, a talisman against the noise, the throbbing
in his loins, the increasing pressure in his head, his lungs -

With an inarticulate roar, Aden charged forth into whatever awaited him.






"Listen!"
=========


Kerra and O'Hare stared at Emarr as if he had lost his mind. Listen to
what? There was nothing to be heard but the steady, throbbing, deafening
wail of the alarm, a sound that had probably already done irreparable
damage to their hearing. Still, Kerra looked around her, trying to
determine where sound that only Emarr could hear might be coming from.

Behind her, a guard emerged from a side corridor, blaster at the ready. A
single shot blazed toward Kerra, missing by millimeters, before the guard
froze, her eyes taking in the masculine nature of Kerra's two companions.
Ducking back, the guard began shouting something into her comlink. A
single shot from Kerra's blaster shattered the communicator into a
thousand pieces, taking most of the guard's hand with it.

"I think she might have got through," Kerra said breathlessly. "We have
to assume they know some of us are males." Trying to look on the bright
side, she added, "At least they probably won't shoot to kill, now."

"Oh, yeah," O'Hare sneered. "That makes me feel a lot better."


"Come on," Emarr yelled. "It came from the courtyard!"
======================================================


"What came from the courtyard?" Kerra demanded, dashing after the alien
who had already made it well down the hallway while she was dealing with
the guard. "And what the hell set off the damned alarm, anyway! We had it
covered!"

"I have the feeling your boyfriend decided not to wait around for you,"
O'Hare panted. "His timing could have been better."

"No kidding!" she shot back.

The trio emerged into a wide garden court heavily cluttered with statuary
and flanked by wide stone staircases leading to two upstairs wings. And
coming toward them across this courtyard -

"Aden!" Kerra launched herself toward him, flinging herself into his arms
without a thought spared for her own safety. It was all right now. She'd
found him. How could it not be?

"Doc," Aden breathed wonderingly, disbelievingly. Crushing her small body
close in his arms, he buried his face in her hair, kissing her throat,
grabbing fistfuls of her coverall as if he meant to rip it from her body
and take her then and there -

Through the euphoria of having found him, through the primal, passionate
response of her body to his closeness, his obvious desire, she became
aware of something else.


"Aden, whatis that smell?"
==========================


A choking laugh escaped his lips. He forced himself to push back from
her, to allow them both a little space. "Sorry, Doc. Not exactly
presentable, am I?"

"Maiden, this may not be the best time to celebrate your reunion." Emarr
took Kerra's hand, pulling her from Aden's embrace. "It would have been
better had you waited for us, Locke. Your actions have complicated our
escape somewhat."

"Dengas?" Aden's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his old friend.
"Where'd she findyou ?"

"It was more a matter of us finding her," O'Hare corrected. "And we don't
exactly have a lot of time to talk about it. This place is going to be
swarming with very large, very nasty women, very soon. And thanks to you,
getting out is going to be a lot harder than getting in was."

"I hear them," Emarr interrupted, his tone low and urgent.

"How - " Kerra began, but didn't have time to finish. A group of about
four guards, needle guns at the ready, poured out of the corridor she and
her friends had just vacated. Before Kerra could react, guards had
emerged from each of the courtyard's entrances, blocking every route of
escape - except for the stairways leading upward, back toward the private
quarters from which Aden had come.





The first projectile whizzed by Aden's ear. Too close. He returned fire,
squeezing off several shots even as Kerra pulled at his arm, trying to
draw him after her, back toward the stairways - toward Issari. "Come on!"
she shouted. "There's no getting out that way now! The stairs are our
only chance!"

"There's no way out up there!" he told her, firing again, though O'Hare
was already halfway to the stairwell. "You think I'd have come out this
way if I had a choice?"

"There's no way out down here anymore either!" Kerra pulled again,
harder; the strength in her small hands was astonishing. "Try the other
stairwell - the left one!" She shouted over her shoulder to O'Hare, who
had now reached the foot of the stairs. "O'Hare! Go left! Left, to the
guest wing! There's no way out up there!"

More of the drugged projectiles whizzed by, one coming close enough to
tear the sleeve of Aden'schiri . Beside them, Emarr squeezed off
projectile after projectile, sometimes felling his targets, but more
often not. Why didn't that damned savage use his blaster?

"It's too late for that now, Emarr," Kerra shouted. "Forget what I said
before - just shoot them!"

"As you wish, maiden!" Emarr drew his blaster and opened fire even as
Aden turned and sprinted in the direction Kerra had indicated, taking
advantage of the covering fire Dengas provided.

"Good thing their aim isn't very good," O'Hare called, pausing to squeeze
off a few shots of his own. "There better be a way out up here, Telsier,
or I'm going to toss you to those big mamas myself!You they probably
aren't planning to take alive!"

"Watch your mouth, O'Hare," Aden growled. "Dengas! Get up here! Nobody's
coming back for you!"

The alien aimed his blaster at the fountain, vaporizing the water into a
vast, hissing cloud of steam to cloak his retreat, and dashed toward his
friends with the speed of one running for much more than just his life.

"Now what?" Aden demanded. "They'll be up here the second the steam
clears."

"This way." Kerra took off down the corridor, gesturing for the men to
follow.

At the fourth door she came to Kerra stopped and tried the handle. It
turned easily in her hand, and she entered the chamber, pulling Aden and
O'Hare in after her. Emarr followed, laying cover fire until the last
possible moment. "Seal the door and brace it with something!" Aden
barked, glancing around frantically for some something heavy enough to
keep the guards out, but light enough to move quickly.

"Here! O'Hare was already applying his full strength and weight to the
task of moving a huge armoire, massively constructed and gaudily carved.
Aden added his own considerable muscle to the effort, as did Emarr,
straining with every gram of strength in them. Finally, with a screeching
scrape of wood on wood, the wardrobe yielded to their efforts.

Kerra was searching frantically for something, but Aden had know way of
telling what.

The guards were already pounding fiercely on the door by the time the men
had managed to wrestle the wardrobe into position. A moment later the
pounding was replaced by the ominous sound of blaster fire.

Desperately, Aden and the others scanned the room for something else they
could add to their makeshift barricade.


"Aden, Emarr, help me!"
=======================


Kerra had removed the thick corded ties from the wide windows. Now she
knelt on the floor, clumsily attempting to splice these makeshift ropes
together.


"What are you doing?" Aden demanded. "There's no way - "
========================================================


"According to the floor and grounds plan we downloaded from the security
company, this room's balcony extends out over open water. There are
relatively few rocks below us here. If we can just make this rope long
enough, just decrease the length of the drop - "

"We'd still be smashed to a bloody pulp against the foundation by waves
the size of bulk freighters," Aden interjected. "Don't you think I
thought about just going out a window?"

"The coastline's a lot less rough on this side," Kerra insisted.
"Besides, it isn't as if we're flooded with options."

Aden glanced at the door. It had begun to glow redly, and parts of it
looked like they were melting.

"I don't think we're going to have time for that rope," he said grimly.
He took Kerra's arm and drew her to her feet.

Now, away from his captor and facing a choice between recapture and
suicide, Aden's mind was painfully, brutally clear. "It's been real nice
knowing you, Doc," he said softly, the words for her ears alone. "Too bad
it couldn't have lasted just a little bit longer."

The door to the chamber exploded inward in a shower of glowing sparks,
and the wardrobe began to rock ominously as Issari's security force
brought their combined weight to bear on it. Aden and Kerra's eyes met
for a single, blinding instant that seemed to stretch into infinity, to
encompass all the days and years of all the possible futures that now
would never be.

Aden caught Kerra up in his arms and ran for the balcony, to leap with
her into the roiling depths below.






CHAPTER 11
==========


Impact with the waves knocked Kerra's hastily-drawn breath from her body.
It was all she could do to hold her breath against the burning need to
inhale. There was nothing to fill her lungs with but the biting cold,
turbulent water that seemed to have swallowed her whole. She had lost
Aden, pulled from his arms by the huge wave that crashed over them at the
moment of impact.

Kicking her legs with all her strength, Kerra struggled to the surface,
numb hands clawing for air. After a small eternity she burst forth,
gasping wildly for breath. She was able to fill her lungs with blessed,
wonderful air before a wave the size of a cargo shuttle crashed over her.
Struggling, she forced her head once again to the surface, and scanned
the waves frantically, searching for her companions.

Through the water, something was moving toward her. She swam toward it,
stroking with all she had. She'd been a strong swimmer, once, as a child.
But so much time had passed since she'd swum in anything larger or more
turbulent than a crowded indoor pool that now every stroke was an effort.
Kerra found herself thanking whatever higher power might be listening for
every muscle-torturing moment of the ship's refit, for the grueling
lessons in hand-to-hand fighting. Without them, she knew she would not
have had the strength.

She fought her way through the water, fueled by nothing but her own will
to survive, a will so strong it astonished her. Her full energy focused
on keeping afloat, Kerra did not even notice her goal drawing nearer
until strong arms encircled her, supporting her and pulling her against a
strong, powerful body. A body she knew almost as well as her own.


"Aden," she breathed, her voice weak. "Did the others make it out?"
===================================================================


His answer was delayed by a vast, powerful wave that threatened to bear
them both back down into the deeps. "I don't know." There was something
in his eyes, something grim and bleak, as though - "


"Aden, what is it?"
===================


Aden shook his head bleakly. "We've got to worry about ourselves now,
Doc. The cross-current's already pulling us away from shore. We have to
make a break for land while we still can." Staring around them, Kerra
realized with a sinking heart the distance between themselves and shore
had multiplied alarmingly.

"I don't know if I can make it," Kerra admitted. "We'll do it together.
Hold on to me." He pulled her close against him with one powerful arm,
and stroked hard with the other, propelling them forward. The kicking of
his legs was a steady, even rhythm , which Kerra echoed almost without
conscious thought. They swam with the waves, at an angle to the shore.
This increased the distance to be traveled, but it made the going easier.

It seemed an eternity before they finally reached the steep, rocky
shoreline. They hoisted themselves up onto a ledge of stone no larger
than their own bed.

Waves crashed against the stony rockface, nearly sweeping Kerra back off
into the sea. Aden caught her, pulling her back against his chest,
holding her so tight she could barely breathe.

"We're going to have to climb for it," he said.

Kerra glanced up at the precipice towering above them and swallowed hard.
Almost perfectly perpendicular, the wall of stone was slick with
sea-spray. In places it looked none too solid.Climb that? It almost
seemed safer to take their chances with the crashing waves behind them.
Aden must have read her thoughts in her eyes, because he tightened his
embrace, squeezing Kerra's narrow shoulders encouragingly. "Hey, we made
it this far, didn't we?"

Slowly, Kerra nodded. At least it was getting lighter now. The sky had
brightened to a vivid pinkish gold, and the first glint of sun began to
appear over the horizon. They would be able to see handholds, at least.

"You first," Aden instructed. "You're lighter, and not as likely to knock
something loose."

Kerra eyed the precipice apprehensively, calculating the safest route to
the top.

She'd lost her shoes in the ocean, but they would have been worse than
useless for this climb. With bare toes, Kerra sought the first foothold.





If Aden had ever thought Kerra soft, that impression had vanished like a
popped bubble by the end of their harrowing ascent. As he climbed behind
her, following her lead, he could see the crimson smears of blood from
her abraded hands and feet. She climbed in silence, giving her full
attention to the task at hand The only time she even cried out was when a
foothold crumbled beneath her, leaving her dangling precariously by her
torn and bloodied fingers. Aden managed to reach her in time, and offered
her his shoulder as a foothold.

It seemed an eternity before they reached level ground. And yet, when
they had collapsed in relieved exhaustion, the sun had barely cleared the
horizon, and the extravagant colors of sunrise still painted the sky
above them.

Aden pulled Kerra close in a fierce, possessive embrace, burying his face
in her sodden curls, and held her for a very long time.





"We have to find the others," Kerra said.

Aden made no reply. He simply continued with his inspection of what few
weapons and equipment they still had. It didn't look good. The sea water
had damaged most of it, and it wouldn't be usable again until it had been
thoroughly dried and cleaned, if then.

"They risked themselves to help get you out of there, Aden," Kerra
persisted.

"I know," Aden said, "And I don't want them to have done it for nothing.
We're getting back to the ship as quickly as we can, and we're getting
off this forsaken ball of rock." A part of him wanted to give voice to
what he knew, but he kept his silence. She would have to be told. He
would tell her, in time. But the knowledge would hurt her, and he wanted
to spare her that pain. If only just for a little while.

"We can't just abandon the others, Aden! What's wrong? What do you know
that I don't?" She glared at him accusingly, and he knew that she could
see the dark shadow of the truth in his eyes.

Aden sighed deeply, knowing there was no use at all in attempting to
protect her. "O'Hare can take care of himself, honey. If he made it, his
chances of escape are actually better if he's alone. And..." he hesitated
a moment, searching for a gentle way to tell her and finding none. "Emarr
was as good as dead the moment he jumped."

Kerra's eyes were wide and dark - uncomprehending.

"He couldn't swim, honey," Aden explained a gently as he could. "He was
terrified of open water. Ryan used to torment the hell out of him over
it. Nasty things lived in the oceans and lakes on his homeworld. When he
was a kid he had to watch from the bank of a river while a little girl
was torn apart by something that had just reached out and - grabbed her."

Grief and guilt clutched at Kerra's heart like a fist. Kerra felt it must
surely burst with the sheer power of her anguish. She had known Emarr
such a short time, but that served only to magnify her sorrow. Now she
would never know him better.

"But O'Hare knew," Kerra protested. "Surely he wouldn't let his own
partner die."

"If they landed close enough, and if the waves didn't separate them,"
said Aden, his voice rough with the sound of his own grief. "But Ryan
O'Hare has always been an every-man-for-himself kind of guy."

"Yeah," said Kerra, bitterness lending her tone a cold edge. "I noticed
that."

"Don't judge him too harshly, Doc. You get like that, once you've been in
this business long enough."

"You're not like that," Kerra said.

"Doc, you've got no idea what I'm really like."

Kerra ignored that statement. She understood a lot more than he thought
she did. "We can't just leave without knowing for sure, Aden. I made a
deal with them. The security woman they'd hired for their business here
abandoned them, and I promised them my services in exchange for their
help. If either of them is still alive, I'm bound by that bargain."

"And if O'Hare is alive, I'm sure he'll be waiting for us at the ship,
demanding your services." Aden handed Kerra one of the two remaining
weapons that still functioned, clipping the other to his belt. "But first
we have to get away from here before someone starts to wonder if we
haven't drowned or been smashed to pulp on the rocks after all. How far
out are we from the spaceport, anyhow?"

"You don't really want to know," Kerra informed him.





"I'm beginning to wish we had risked going back for the skimmer," Kerra
complained, ducking as the branch Aden had just released snapped back,
barely missing her face. "Trudging through the wilderness in wet clothes
just leaped to the top of my list of preferred thingsnot to do."

"We're not in the wilderness," Aden told her. "I can hear the skimmers on
the road from here. In another few meters we'll be back on open ground."

"And with our luck the first skimmer that passes by will be full of
Marelona Issari's henchwomen." Kerra tugged uncomfortably at her
coverall, the sodden fabric was beginning to chafe in some very sensitive
places.

"I don't know," Aden said. "I think our luck's been pretty good. We're
both still alive." He stopped, turning to watch her as she closed the
space between them. "By the way - thank you. For the rescue, I mean."

Kerra swallowed. "But - I mean, it was my fault. I distracted you, when I
should have been - "

"Did O'Hare say that to you? Because if he did, I'm going to tear him
apart with my bare hands." Aden's eyes flashed with anger, giving him a
dangerous appearance, like the pirate he had seemed when Kerra first saw
him. "What happened happened," Aden said. "Maybe we shouldboth have been
paying attention to something besides each other, but don't youdare take
more of the blame than belongs to you. It doesn't matter. What matters is
that you came after me. I'm just sorry I screwed things up by setting off
that alarm."

"So you and I made it out, and that makes everything all right?" Kerra
demanded. "What about Emarr, Aden? Doesn't his death mean anything?"

"Of course it does," Aden said. "He was my friend. But claiming or
assigning blame won't bring him back. It was his choice to help you."

"Do you think there's a chance he didn't jump?" Kerra asked, not certain
which answer she most hoped for.

Aden shook his head, slowly but decisively. "He was a slave once. He'd
rather die than lose his freedom again, especially - that way."


"But if he was so afraid - "
============================


"Frankly, sweetheart, I'd rather believe that he's dead." Aden's tone
chilled Kerra into silence.





"I half expected someone to be here waiting for us, ready to drag you
back there," Kerra said, her eyes resting at last on the familiar lines
of the ship she'd begun to think of as home. "I don't think I'll ever
feel safe again until we put this planet behind us."

"I don't know," Aden said smugly. "I have the feeling I turned out to be
more trouble than I was worth. And I don't think Issari or any of her
people are likely to underestimateyou again."

"What was that I smelled on you before, anyway?" Kerra asked him,
wrinkling her nose in remembered disgust. "You weren't actually
attempting to block Issari's altered pheromones that way? Because it
couldn't possibly have worked."

"What do you mean? It worked. Not perfectly - I mean, I certainly felt
something. But it was never overpowering - I was able to keep control."

Kerra said nothing, but her skepticism must have showed on her face.

"Okay, dazzle me with your brilliance," Aden said. "Why wouldn't it have
worked - ignoring for the moment the fact that it did?"

"Pheromones aren't perceived by the sense of smell, Aden," Kerra
explained. "They're detected by a structure called the vomeronasal organ.
In Humans, itis in the nose, but it's not connected with smelling at all.
That's why a male butterfly can still detect a female butterfly of the
same species in a field of strong-smelling flowers. I'm afraid you dosed
yourself with something that smelled like curdled milk mixed with cow
dung for nothing. It was your own willpower that protected you from
succumbing to Issari's biochemically-enhanced charms, nothing more."

"Well - that and a really bad head cold," Aden admitted a little
sheepishly. "I don't think a pheromone could have reached my
whatevero-nasal organ if it tried."

Kerra wrinkled her nose in confusion. "What head cold? I haven't heard a
sniffle out of you."

She was right, Aden realized in surprise. There was no trace of the
congestion, nor had there been since his forced plunge into the ocean had
washed the malodorous conglomeration of substances from his body. Not a
cold, then.

"An allergic reaction." Kerra guessed. "To one of the ingredients. Aden
Locke, you are one lucky bastard."

"I sure am," he said softly. From the warmth of his gaze, Kerra knew he
was not speaking only of his escape. Never before, even in the height of
passion, had he looked at her in quite that way. "Issari wasn't the only
one who underestimated you, Kerra. I did, too. Badly. But you have my
word I'll never make that mistake again - partner."

That single, simple word, spoken low and soft, like the most profound of
endearments, stole the breath from Kerra's body. She knew she should
speak, make some form of reply, but all her words were dammed up within
her, held back by the sudden tightness in her throat. She'd waited so
long to hear him admit that such a thing might be possible. Now the thing
she had wanted so badly filled her with terror. Whatever gratitude he
might feel for his liberation did not change the fact that she had failed
him. That his capture in the first place had been largely her fault. It
didn't change the fact that a good man had died because of her. A
friend.His friend.

He reached for her, strong hands cupping her shoulders, drawing her
close. With a ducking motion she broke away, heading toward the ship. She
did not glance back, not wanting to see the look of bewildered
disappointment on his face.

It was a moment before he followed.

The ship was as Kerra had left it, only a few hours before. There were no
signs of tampering; the ship's protective shielding was intact and
resonating at the precise frequency Kerra had reset before their predawn
departure.

She was almost disappointed.

"Send a priority message to theViridian to let O'Hare know we're back
safely." Aden appeared in the cockpit behind her, his voice now all
business, or at least attempting to be. "If we don't get his reply within
six hours, we're going to assume he's dead or recaptured and get
ourselves the hell out of here. Dead we can't do anything for him, and if
Issari has him it's too late by now. She wasn't in any shape to wait when
I left her."

"A part of me wants to forget about the deal I made and just put this
planet as far behind me as I can," Kerra admitted. "Breaking a contract
with another smuggler - especially another Beckhaven smuggler - would be
a real bad career move, Doc." Aden told her. "Especially when filling his
end of the bargain cost him his partner." At the haunted look in Kerra's
eyes, Aden added hastily, "Look, it wasn't your fault. Dengas took the
risk willingly. You went over the floor and grounds plans together,
didn't you? He had to have known that the estate's upper floors overhung
the water. He knew, and for his own reasons he didn't tell you why that
might be a problem. How could that be your fault?"

"How can you expect me to look at this rationally now? How can you? He
was your friend. He wasmy friend."

"There's more to this than guilt, isn't there?" Aden asked tentatively,
watching her eyes. "You felt something for him."

"No - yes. It was different. Nothing like what I feel for you. He was
like me, somehow. We - understood each other."

This time, when Aden reached for her, she did not pull away. She buried
her face in the strong, hard planes of his chest and let the tears flow
freely - tears for a friendship ended before it had properly begun. Tears
for herself, finally granted the thing she had thought she wanted more
than anything. And knowing it could never truly be hers.

Aden had been right from the beginning.





Aden was not surprised, a few hours later, when the ship's proximity
sensors detected O'Hare's presence on the docking platform. There were
certain people in the business who had acquired an almost mystical
reputation for their ability to survive almost anything. Indestructible,
they were called. Vaia and Jann were among them, and so was Ryan O'Hare.
The man had outlived four partners already - five now, Aden reminded
himself with a twinge of bitter grief. It was whispered back at Beckhaven
that nothing short of the Devil himself could rid the universe of Ryan
O'Hare.

"He didn't make it." Aden said quietly. He did not bother phrasing it as
a question. The answer was etched in hard lines on O'Hare's face.

"I didn't even see him break the surface, Locke. We jumped together - I
felt him go in no further from me than you're standing now, but there was
one hell of an undertow where we landed. It damn near took me too. Still
don't know how I managed to keep my head above water." O'Hare paused, his
green eyes meeting Aden's with sudden concern, as if only then
remembering. "The girl? Did she..."

"We made it ashore together," Aden said. "She's sleeping now. I had to
tell her about Dengas' chances. She took it pretty hard."

"She would." There was a deeper tone of pain and compassion in O'Hare's
voice than Aden would ever have credited - he had never held a very high
opinion of Emarr's partner. "I wish I didn't have to hold her to our
bargain, Locke, but I need this contract, now more than ever."

"Whatever you need her to do, O'Hare, get it over with quickly. I want
away from this godforsaken planet as fast as possible. I can't imagine
what I was thinking about coming here." Aden glanced uneasily back toward
the cabin. "I was so concerned about her safety. What a laugh."

"I just need to pick up the shipment. Don't worry, I don't want to stick
around any longer than I have to either."

"You should have told her, Ryan. Even if Dengas was too damn proud or
stubborn, you should have. Hell, you should both have known better than
to withhold vital information from someone you were working with."

"He'd never have forgiven me," O'Hare said. "You didn't see the way he
looked at her."

"No. And now I guess I never will, will I?" Aden turned away, trying not
to let O'Hare see what was in his eyes. Jealousy. Deep, burning jealousy.
Of a dead man.

"Let me know when she's ready," O'Hare said. "I'll be back at my ship."
With that, he turned and departed, leaving Aden's thoughts churning as
violently as the waters that had swallowed Emarr Dengas.






CHAPTER 12
==========






When Kerra left to keep her promise to O'Hare, Aden sealed himself inside
theGolden Key . He set the proximity alarms just as he would if he was
going to be away. He wasn't taking any chances. The thought of what had
almost happened would probably give him nightmares for the next ten
years. He'd been stupid to come here, and his stupidity had killed Emarr.
It could easily have killed himself and Kerra as well.

Aden worked diligently to get the ship ready for takeoff. He planned to
get out of here the second Kerra's feet hit the boarding ramp. Nothing
would ever make him come back to this cursed planet again.

Kerra was only gone a little over an hour. "Strap in," Aden said without
preamble as she walked onto the bridge.

Kerra slumped limply into her seat and fumbled with her seat restraints.
Only then did Aden notice the swollen redness of her eyes.

"You okay, Doc?" he asked softly.

"No." She wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Let's just get
out of here, okay?"

"No arguments from me." He'd been on the verge of asking what was
bothering her. Stupid question. He'd shed a few tears over Emarr too,
privately, while she was gone.





"Where now?" Kerra asked, once they had cleared the planet's atmosphere.
Her eyes were dry and clear now, her voice a little stronger. But there
was a resigned shadow in her eyes Aden had hoped never to see.

Aden made one last minute adjustment to the ship's heading before leaning
back in his seat. He faced Kerra. "Coming out this far without anything
to show for it has put a bit of a drain on our available resources, Doc,
so we're not going too far. Not unless we want to dip into my fallback
account, and I'm not ready to do that yet."

"Fallback account?" Kerra managed a weak smile. "Aden, you're doing
irreparable damage to your reputation as a reckless gambler. If you're
not careful, you're going to blow your whole persona."

"I thought I'd already blown it when you saw me in that ridiculous
gown-thing Issari made me wear, smelling like Kovarin mule dung."

Kerra snorted. Not quite a laugh, but better than nothing.

"There's a freehold space station a few light years from here," Aden
said, answering Kerra's earlier question. "I've done business there in
the past. It's a bit rough, though. Nothing like Beckhaven."

"Nothing like Kethry either, I hope," Kerra said.

"No," said Aden, "but bad enough in its own way. You'll have to let me do
the talking, at least until you get a feel for the place. And keep a hand
near your blaster, just in case."

"Sounds just perfect," said Kerra. "You really know how to romance a
girl."

Aden glanced at her. He didn't like the note of irony in her voice. There
had been something different about her ever since they'd escaped Issari's
clutches, and he was beginning to wonder if there wasn't more to it than
grief over Emarr's death.

"I try." He said, attempting to keep things light. Somehow he knew he was
going to have to tread very carefully. "Which reminds me, I still haven't
thanked you properly for coming after me. You do one hell of a rescue,
honey."

"Forget it. That's what partners are for, right?" Kerra tried to avoid
his gaze, but failed.

"Among other things." Aden's gaze refused to waver. "I'm sorry about
Emarr. I really am. If I thought there was a chance he'd made it, I
wouldn't leave the planet until I knew for sure."

"I know that," Kerra said. "It isn't just Emarr, Aden. It's us." She fell
silent, biting her lip.

"Us?" Aden prompted, feeling suddenly like he'd been shot in the gut with
a low-power blaster.

"Haven't you felt things have gone a little fast?"

"Sure." Aden shrugged. "As I remember, you were the one who rushed
things."

Kerra nodded. "I remember it that way, too. And I think I made a mistake."

"A mistake." Aden stared at her. Had she lost her mind? How could the
best thing that had ever happened to him be a mistake?

"I was scared," she admitted softly. "Scared of starting out alone on
some planet I'd never even been to before. You were my reprieve. If I
could convince you to let me stay with you, I wouldn't have to be alone."

"You lied when you said you loved me, then." The lump in Aden's throat
was developing jagged edges.

"No. I do love you. That's the worst part." Kerra's voice was harsh and
ragged with the effort not to cry again. "I love you more than anything.
But it's no good. I got Emarr killed, Aden. I didn't know what the hell I
was doing, and a man's dead because of it. It could be you next time.
Hell, it could have been youthis time."

"In case you've forgotten," Aden said bitterly, "Iwas the one who set off
that alarm."

"And I was the one who led us upstairs, knowing there was only one way
out." Kerra shook her head violently. "I should leave before it's too
late. You'd have had it out with Gandes by now if you hadn't had to worry
about me. You could get back to your life."

Aden shook his head slowly. "It's too late to pull away now, Doc," His
voice was low, urgent. "You're mine. My partner in every sense of the
word. That's what you said you wanted."

Kerra choked back her tears. "You have no right to tell me what I can
feel. I can't be with you right now. I'm going to our - tomy cabin."

"Not so fast." Aden caught Kerra's hand as she began to rise, pulling her
to him until her lips hovered just inches from his own. Taking her head
in his strong hands, he captured her mouth with his own in a powerful,
demanding kiss, bruising her tender lips. His tongue quested determinedly
for entrance until, finally, Kerra surrendered. She opened to him like a
ripe flower as his hungry, devouring mouth claimed hers. Then, without
warning, the kiss was over. Leaving Kerra off-balance and bereft.

"Now you can go," Aden said. "We'll continue our...conversation...later."
Aden turned his attention to the navigation console. Kerra hesitated,
staring at Aden's back. One hand brushed at her bruised lips. It came
away wet with a scarlet smear of blood. Hers, or his?






CHAPTER 13
==========


This time, the swirling colors of hyperspace did nothing to calm Kerra's
troubled mind. The beloved, beautiful formlessness of the non-space
between here and there served only as a symbol of the life she had
dreamed of, briefly. A life among the stars with the man she loved.

She didn't belong out here.

She belonged in some laboratory, far from smugglers and blasters and
covetous Kethrians, tinkering with proteins and DNA, shut safely away
from her own illusions behind concrete walls.

She didn't belong with Aden Locke, no matter how much she might wish it.

The cabin door slid open with a soft hiss. The sound did not startle
Kerra. She had been anticipating - or rather, dreading - this moment ever
since her retreat to the cabin. She met Aden's gaze for a moment, as he
stood there in the doorway, and then she turned away again to face the
swirling chaos outside.

"You've wallowed long enough," Aden growled. "We need to talk this out."

"What good would talking do?" Kerra asked. "You were right, Aden. From
the very beginning. We don't belong together. Sooner or later I'm going
to get both of us killed."

"No, Kerra." Aden moved up close behind Kerra's chair. So close she could
feel the warmth of his body. "I wasn't right. You were. I feel more alive
since meeting you than I have in the last ten years. Losing you now -
that's what would kill me!" He laid his hands on the back of the chair
and swiveled it around. Looming over her, Aden's sheer physical presence
threatened to overwhelm Kerra's resolve. The passion in his eyes awakened
an answering passion within her - a passion that all her defenses seemed
powerless to resist. "You won't refuse me," Aden purred, leaning yet
closer. His breath was hot and sweet on her face. "You couldn't if you
wanted to. And you don't."

"You think that will solve everything?" Kerra demanded, her eyes burning
into his even as he reached for her. "It won't."

"I think it will feel damned good," Aden asserted huskily, pulling her
roughly into his arms. "Maybe I should remind you just how good I can
make you feel."

Kerra pushed ineffectually at Aden's chest, trying to put some distance
between them. Direct contact with his powerful body made rational thought
impossible. "Aden, I don't think you're thinking clearly," she protested
breathlessly. "You've been exposed to a very powerful pheromone. There
may be lingering effects! This could be dangerous!"

"You mean I might never be able to get you out of my system? Frankly,
honey, I think it's a little late to worry about that." His questing
hands found their way under her clothing, stroking the sensitive flesh
along her ribcage, finding and releasing the fastening of her bra. He
buried his face in her hair, inhaling the clean, feminine scent of her.
"Mmmm," he murmured wickedly, "Kerra-mones. Delicious." His tongue
flicked along her jawline, teasing, working its way up to the exquisitely
sensitive shell of her ear. He suckled the tender flesh of her lobe,
drawing a raw gasp from her throat. Her knees gave way, and she had to
clutch at him to keep her balance.

His mouth found hers then, nibbling and suckling at her raw, tender lips,
his tongue forcing its way into her eager, hungry mouth. He pulled open
her shirt, its fastening offering no resistance to his practiced hands.
Bending to her breast, he took her nipple in his hot, wet mouth.

A white-hot bolt of desire shot through Kerra's body, shattering her
defenses. She tore at his clothing, suddenly desperate to have his body
as bare and vulnerable as her own.

"That's it, girl," Aden encouraged huskily. "Don't hold anything back."

A sound, half laugh and half moan, erupted from Kerra's lips. As though
she could have held anything back now if she'd wanted to! Her whole body
ached with need...trembled with desire. Her hands fumbled desperately at
Aden's clothing. She groaned in frustration until his fingers moved to
assist hers, though they were no steadier than her own.

Finally naked, they fell together onto the wide bed. Aden's large, strong
body was a welcome weight on Kerra's. His mouth moved once more to devour
hers. His hands moved roughly over her trembling body, all pretense of
gentleness gone.

"Tell me you want me," he hissed.

"Yes." The single word was all she could manage.

"Tell me you love me."

"Y-yes." She arched toward him, wrapping her legs tight around him. With
a single deep, hard thrust they were one. Each wave of pleasure came
stronger than the last, until a final explosion of delight engulfed them
both, more powerful than anything either had ever known.

When the last aftershocks had faded away, Kerra curled her small body
into the warm shelter of Aden's embrace, and slept.

"Doc, I want you to promise me something."

Kerra had been drifting in the twilight world between sleep and waking,
wrapped in the sheltering warmth of Aden's embrace and the mindless
oblivion of one who had turned her mind off. She grumbled an irritable,
sleepy complaint and snuggled closer against Aden's muscular chest.

"Come on, Kerra," Aden prompted. "I know you're awake."

"No, I'm not." Her words were muffled against his body.

A low chuckle rumbled in Aden's chest. The vibration tickled Kerra's ear.
"Come on," Aden said. "This is important."

Kerra let out another low growl of protest as she stretched, pulling away
from the temporary haven of Aden's body.

"Look, Kerra," Aden began, then hesitated, as if unsure of how to
continue. "Look," he began again, more confidently this time, if not by
much. "I'm not stupid enough to think that last night actually changed
anything. Before Kethry, when I told you we didn't have a future
together, I had valid reasons for believing that. I don't believe it any
more. At least, I don't want to."

"I believe it," Kerra asserted quietly.

"I know," Aden said. "I even understand why. But no matter how you feel,
I'm not going to leave you, or let you leave me, as long as there's a
madman out there somewhere who wants us both dead." He reached out,
trying to pull Kerra back to him. "You're safer with me. That's a fact.
We're both safer with someone around to watch our backs. So I want you to
promise me something."

Kerra picked up a pillow and hugged it, covering her breasts. "I'm
listening."

"I want you to promise me you won't make any decisions, one way or the
other, until Gandes is no longer a threat," Aden said. "If you still
believe then that our partnership would be a bad idea, you can leave. I
won't try to stop you."

"We don't know for certain that Gandes wants me dead," Kerra said. "We've
only assumed he'd know that trick we used to escape the Divras system was
my doing."

"You also provided the ship, the traveling papers, and paid for the
fuel," Aden reminded her. "I couldn't have gotten offworld without you.
Gandes would know that, and after the hard work he went to ensure that
I'd be stranded on that ball of rock for life, I can't imagine he's very
fond of you."

Kerra's eyes stung with the pressure of tears she stubbornly refused to
shed. If she made the promise Aden asked of her, how much harder would it
be, when the time finally came to leave him forever?

"I'll stay," she said finally. "I'll stay until Gandes isn't a threat any
more. But that's all, Aden. That's all there can ever be. Just like we
agreed in the beginning."

"You never agreed in the beginning, and you know it," Aden asserted
quietly. "Why are you so convinced that you were wrong now that I finally
understand how right you were?"






CHAPTER 14
==========


"Now, that's more like it."

Aden glanced sideways at Kerra, puzzled by the apparent non sequitur. In
the viewscreen before them Crossroads Station loomed in the distance,
growing ever larger as they approached it. There was nothing in the
simple double-ring construction to explain Kerra's obvious satisfaction.

"More like what, Doc? It's a standard-design extralunar orbital station,
and an old one at that. So old it was used as a troop garrison during the
Terran/Tarenash rebellion against the Kovarin Protectorate."

"But that was over five hundred years ago!" Kerra protested.

"Closer to six," Aden corrected.

"And the station's still in operation? Why hasn't it ever been replaced?"

"It has been. There are two nice, modern orbital stations circling the
system's other habitable planets. Officially, Crossroads is a derelict.
Unofficially, it probably sees more commerce than both of the other
stations combined, and the governments of the inner planets turn a blind
eye because it keeps the illegal trade away from their shiny new
spacedocks and law-abiding citizens. As long as the riffraff has the
sense to stay away from the inner planets, they're left alone."

"What about this planet?" Kerra asked, indicating the curving contour of
the world that filled a sizable portion of the viewscreen.

"It's kind of a derelict too, Doc. Its ecology was all but destroyed by
Kovarin plasma weapons during the rebellion. Nobody on the inner worlds
cares much about what happens there. Everyone who could left long ago,
and the people who are left - well, they're a rough lot. Not above
selling their own kids to make a quick credit."


"Gee," Kerra quipped. "Can we come back for a vacation some time?"
==================================================================


Aden grinned at the unintentional reference to the future, but was wise
enough not to comment on it. "We won't be spending any time on the
planet," he told her. "This is the kind of place you want to get into and
out of as fast as possible."

"You're not doing wonders for my confidence, Aden," Kerra said.

"I won't let anything happen to you," Aden assured her. "We're within
comm range. I'm transmitting our documents now. We should have clearance
to dock in a moment."

"No visual check?" Kerra raised an eyebrow.

"Not here, sweetheart," Aden said. "The powers that be here at Crossroads
aren't all that particular about who gets to come aboard." He glanced
back at the console. "Okay. They're transmitting our authorization now. I
suggest you double-check the charge on your weapons, love, just in case
things get a little rough."

The station loomed ever closer, and it became apparent that the elegant
symmetry of the concentric-ring construction was misleading at best.
Seeing the station up close as the docking bay doors slid open in dubious
welcome, Kerra could well believe that the place had seen the best part -
or was it the worst? - of six hundred years.

The docking bay lights that guided them into the station were dim,
flickering energized-gas types, one of which sputtered and died out
before their eyes. The inertial dampening field caught them all at once,
jarring the ship almost as much as a low-velocity impact with a solid
object. Kerra was certain she would have a bruise from the impact of her
body against the crash straps.

"Haven't these people ever heard the word 'upgrade?'" she complained.

"Keeps the reflexes sharp," Aden grinned. "We also have to maneuver into
our docking pad on our own - the automated systems have been out for
years. Better hang on to your seat, love."

Kerra took Aden's words literally, clutching the sides of her chair with
white-knuckled hands as Aden banked the ship inside the highly inadequate
dampening field. He flew theGolden Key down the width of the docking bay
to their assigned slot, then banked sharply in the opposite direction to
slip into a space barely wide enough to accommodate the vessel. Kerra
held her breath as theKey slipped into her berth. She half-expected the
scrape of metal on metal as the ship connected with the one beside it.
But Aden proved every bit as capable a pilot in these close quarters as
he was in open space. The ship settled into place with a soft bump, its
own antigravity generators cushioning their descent. Kerra released the
breath she had been holding.

"I think I've changed my mind about that vacation," she said.





The common area of Crossroads station was small, crowded, and dirty,
permeated throughout with the smells of stale intoxicants, burnt herbs,
and unwashed bodies of nearly every intelligent species in explored space
- and a few whose intelligence was still under debate. One small-scale
brawl was already in progress when Aden and Kerra entered. Aside from
giving the combatants a respectably wide berth the other patrons seemed
to be ignoring the action, sipping their drinks or smoking their pipes
without more than the occasional glance at the free-for-all in progress.

A Densharite child perched in the middle of one table not far from the
action appeared to be taking bets. Her pudgy fingers flickered
frantically over a small datapad as a group comprised mainly of
crimson-skinned Shian-ru and muscular, crested Olaret waved credit notes
in her face. A slender young man barely out of his teens hovered nearby,
one hand resting pointedly on his blaster, and glared dangerously at
anyone who got too close.

Kerra suppressed a shudder and looked away. She'd never harbored any
prejudice against the developmentally accelerated, but even a Densharite
child was still a child.

And this was clearly no place for a child.

"What kind of contract do you expect to get here?" she asked Aden, trying
to get the little girl out of her mind. "I know you'd never handle drugs
or slaves..."

"Just how do you know that?" Aden cut in irritably.

Kerra rolled her eyes. "Sorry, love. I didn't mean to question your
ruthless, bloodthirsty persona."

"You better be sorry. I have a reputation to maintain." Aden slipped his
hand into hers. "But seriously, you'd be surprised the kinds of things
it's illegal to import on some planets. I know of places where it's an
offence to bring inanything from offworld. I was once paid a few hundred
thousand credits to runwater ."

"Desert planet?" Kerra asked.

"No. They had plenty of their own water. But this stuff wasillegal , so
there had to be something special about it, right?" Aden grinned
crookedly. "Human nature. Gotta love it."

"I don't know about that," Kerra replied, her gaze wandering back to the
little girl.

Scant meters from the child's perch a table shattered with a loud,
splintering crash as a massive humanoid body slammed into it, coming to
rest in an inert heap among the wreckage. Kerra had taken two steps
toward the fallen Olaret when she was pulled back hard against Aden's
chest.

Silence reigned for several seconds, then a roar of triumph rose from the
massed Shian-ru as one of that group emerged from the crowd to claim his
winnings from the diminutive bookmaker. Only then did Aden release Kerra.
By now the fallen man was surrounded by a tight group of his own people
and Kerra could not have got anywhere near him.

"Olaret don't take kindly to outsiders sticking their noses in, Doc,"
Aden chided her. "You'd have gotten a bloody nose for your trouble, or
worse. I would have been honor-bound to take on whoever hit you, and
pretty soon little Marex would be taking bets on us."

"But he was hurt," Kerra protested. "I could have helped him."

"It would have taken far more than a collision with the furniture to do
any significant harm to that one," Aden reassured her.

"This place is certainly nothing like Beckhaven," Kerra mused. "I feel
like everyone's watching us."

"Half of them probably are," said Aden unhelpfully. "You're new here. An
unknown quantity."

They had been working their way toward the crowded bar as they spoke,
away from the debris of the fight and the disturbing sight of the
Densharite bookie. The bartender, a stocky, gray-skinned being of a race
Kerra could not identify, was quietly conversing with a rough-looking
Human male. From the motions of the Human's hands, it appeared they were
discussing a woman.

The bartender spotted Aden and Kerra. He nodded farewell to the man and
approached them.

"How may I help you?" The bartender's voice was hoarse and grating,
whether from damaged vocal cords or a natural trait of his species Kerra
had no way of telling.

"Hot Kovarin ale for me,baras for the lady if you have it," Aden said.

"Alas, our source for freshbaras has dried up," said the bartender. "We
have only the reconstituted nectar - an inferior blend. Good enough for
this rough crowd, but not for a lady of such obvious good breeding." The
smile he turned upon Kerra was probably meant to be charming, only the
craggy harshness of his almost comically ugly face turning it into a
leer. Or so Kerra hoped.

"Never mind trying to charm my partner," said Aden gruffly. "You're not
her type. Just bring her something with a low alcohol content that
doesn't taste like engine coolant."

"A tall order in this establishment," said a familiar voice over Kerra's
shoulder. She whirled, startled, one hand flying to her blaster.

Aden, with his better reflexes, already had the speaker in his sights. He
froze, stunned. Strong leaf-colored fingers reached out to pluck the
weapon from his hand.

"You should be careful where you are aiming, old friend," Emarr said.

Kerra leaped forward, still clutching her forgotten blaster, and wrapped
her arms around Emarr's neck. "You're alive!"

"Apparently," Emarr said, his arms coming around her. "I take it there
was some doubt of that, since both you and my so-called partner left
Kethry without me."

"Aden said you couldn't swim," Kerra said, shooting an accusatory glance
over her shoulder.

"I cannot," Emarr confirmed, releasing her. "I am not certain how I
survived. I awakened some hours after leaping off Mistress Issari's
balcony and found myself in a strange woman's bed."

"Since you're here, I assume the strange woman wasn't Issari," Aden
observed.

"No," answered Emarr. "Her name was Livaneth. She found me while
exploring a sea cave at low tide. I was lying on a rock ledge, two meters
up. Her theory was that waves washed me into the cave, and when the tide
went out - "

"You were left high and dry," Aden finished. The corner of his mouth
twitched. "And this Livaneth just let you go? A healthy offworld male in
his prime?"

"Not immediately." Emarr grinned, his eyes gleaming with remembered
satisfaction.

"But how did you get here?" Kerra asked. "O'Hare left before we did."

"By the oldest of methods, Maiden. I hid in a cargo container being
loaded on an outgoing freighter. I believe you Humans call it 'stewing
away.'"

"That's 'stowingaway,'" Kerra corrected, shaking her head in an effort
not to laugh. Knowing he'd survived filled her with giddy relief.

"I think not," Emarr rebutted. "It was very hot in that cargo pod."

The laugh Kerra had been holding in burst from her lips.

She hadn't killed him.

She'd been lucky this time.

She stopped laughing.





"I want to help you," Emarr said.

Kerra glanced at him over the rim of her drink. Though the bartender had
probably tried his best, itdid taste like engine coolant. "Help us? With
Gandes, you mean?"

"Yes. You mentioned he had returned. Obviously 'imprisoned for life' no
longer holds much meaning." He regarded Aden through narrowed eyes. "I
trust you mean to deal with himproperly this time?"

Kerra opened her mouth to defend Aden, but his own words cut her off.

"At the time," he said, "I thought killing the bastard would be letting
him off too easy. Both Vaia and Jann agreed, by the way."

"Then you should at least have given him the cure," said Emarr.

"Cure?" Kerra broke in, glaring accusingly at Aden. "I thought you said
there was no cure."

"No cure Gandes would have accepted," Aden clarified. "The Kethrians
usually handle the problem by castrating the poor sucker. No sex drive,
no problem."

Kerra frowned thoughtfully. "Excision of the vomeronasal organ might
work."

Aden shook his head. "I looked that up after you told me about the thing.
The Kethrians tried it. That keeps the victim fromdetecting the
pheromone, not from needing it. The body and brain still crave what they
can't get, only then it's too late."

"I dislike your referring to Gandes as a victim," Emarr growled.

"In some ways he is," Aden said. The crease of his brow told Kerra what
it cost him to admit that. "Itwould have been kinder to kill him. So this
time that's exactly what we're going to do."

Emarr nodded, apparently satisfied. "It will not truly be over until he
is dead. Until that time, the Pale One will not truly be able to heal."

"Vengeance isn't much in the way of a therapeutic technique, Emarr," said
Kerra, frowning. "You know Jannia?"

Emarr nodded slowly. "I first met her some months after the...incident.
We frequent the same spa. The terrain and vegetation remind me of home."
There was a wistful sadness in his brown eyes. "I came on her bathing.
She was...very beautiful. And very angry. She threw an urn at my head. I
still have the scar." He pushed back a few of his braids and pointed.

The scar was jagged, like a lightning bolt. The tissue was stark white,
standing out against his vivid green skin just millimeters from his
temple.


Kerra hissed through her teeth. "That might have killed you!"
=============================================================


"Indeed." Emarr grinned widely. "I knew than that she was a rare woman.
Since then, I have loved her from afar."

Aden snorted. "When you weren't sleeping with any woman who would have
you."

"I was young," Emarr said without apology. "I still am. Why deprive
myself by remaining faithful to a woman who will not let anyone touch
her? She would not thank me for it. She scarcely speaks to me. I wonder
if she even knows my name."

"She knowsyou ," Aden snorted. "She calls you 'that bloody chivalrous
green bastard.'" He sipped his drink. "She likes you."

"Then perhaps there is hope." Emarr raised his fingers to rub at his
scarred temple. "Even if not, I would be a part of this. Gandes needs to
be removed from the universe. No one else must suffer for Vaialora's
mistake."





"We designed this cargo hold to do double duty, so it shouldn't be too
bad," Kerra told Emarr as she folded down one of the narrow bunks. She
pulled a clean sheet from the storage cupboard in the wall above. "It was
originally the second cabin, and there's a very nice private sanitory
just through that door." Kerra bent over the bed to wrestle the
slightly-too-snug textile over the mattress. "The towels are in the
cupboard next to the hand sanitizer."

"You have water showers? On a working ship?" Emarr seemed at once
impressed and a little disapproving.

"It was originally a luxury yacht that we stole in order to escape the
Divras system. We converted it. We can make do with a lower mass of
washing water if we shower together." Realizing belatedly what she had
just said, Kerra felt heat rushing into her cheeks. "Aden and I, I mean."

"I had no doubt of your meaning, Maiden," Emarr assured her gently. "I
have heard the way you speak his name."


Kerra laughed a soft, sad little laugh. "That obvious, am I?"
=============================================================


"It is not a bad thing, Kerra."

It was the first time Emarr had spoken her given name. An unbidden surge
of warmth flooded through her. "It is if it isn't meant to be."

"What is meant to be," Emarr told her, "is for the gods to decide. Not
you, and not Aden. I once thought I knew better than the gods. I could
not see how my enslavement, the loss of my homeworld and all I had known,
could possibly serve a higher purpose. And then my eyes were opened to
worlds I had never known existed. I regained my freedom. I met beautiful
and remarkable women, and was privileged to call some of them my friends.
And I met Jannia Wise. I knew, the moment I learned what had been done to
her, why the gods let me be enslaved. For her. Because I alone can heal
her."

"You have your own kind of arrogance, don't you?" Kerra accused. "If you
believe that, you have to believe that the gods planned my mother's
accident, my family's abandonment - even what happened to poor Jannia!
How can that be for some greater good? Don't get me wrong. I believe in a
god. But I do not believe that he controls our destinies like some great
cosmic puppeteer!"

"The stories you speak of have not yet been fully told," Emarr said. "Who
is to know their ending?"

Kerra shook her head. "We write our own stories, Emarr."

"Perhaps," Emarr said. "Or perhaps fate plays a role after all. This
story, too, is not yet finished. Do not be too quick to anticipate its
ending, my friend."






"So you got Emarr settled?"
===========================


Kerra nodded.

Aden sat down on the edge of the bed. "Poor bastard," he said with a
sympathetic shake of his head. "Who'd have suspected he was in love with
her? Stars know, since it happened she hasn't been very lovable."

"I think it's romantic," Kerra said.

"Yeah," Aden sniffed. "Emarr's a hopeless romantic, all right - accent
onhopeless . Jannia's not going to leap into his arms the second Gandes
falls. Scars like that don't just magically heal themselves."

"No," Kerra agreed. "They don't. But sometimes they can be healed." She
stripped off her dress and slipped into a soft nightshirt, then drew back
the covers. "I like that Emarr didn't have the scar removed."


Aden laughed softly, shaking his head. "Now who's a hopeless romantic?"
=======================================================================


A sudden damp brightness filled Kerra's eyes. Aden cursed softly. There
were times he could almost believe she'd changed her mind about leaving.
Then there were times like now.

"You know," he said, putting his arms around her, "I never suspected. I
knew Emarr was attracted to Jannia, but..." He shook his head. "Why them?
Whyus ? Is itall just pheromones? Love at first smell?"

Kerra shook her head, a soft chuckle tickling her lips. "Emarr's an
empath. Maybe he senses something in Jannia the rest of us don't see. I
know the Jannia Wise I spent the evening with at that spa wasn't the same
one I saw on Beckhaven."


"Do you think Emarr's right?" Aden murmured. "Do you think Jannia could
be healed?"


"I don't know. It would take something very strong. Very powerful." She
rested her head on his shoulder. "Once I wouldn't have doubted Emarr's
love could do it. But sometimes love isn't enough, is it?"





When Aden awoke the next morning, Kerra wasn't beside him. He frowned at
the empty space in the bed. He'd had a particularly steamy dream, and
wanted to try some of it out on her.

He found her on the bridge, sitting in her chair with a cup ofbaras on
the console in front of her.

"I think we have something," she said in greeting.

"Been on the computer again, Doc?" Aden came up behind her and glanced
over her shoulder, but the screen wasn't even on.

"No. I went out for a while this morning while you were still asleep. I
met a woman. Merilee O'Hare - she's Ryan's sister or his cousin or
something. She saw us come in yesterday but she was in the middle of
negotiating a contract. Which was a good thing, because she was angry
enough at you to spit engine plasma."

Aden looked startled. "But I haven't seen Merilee in at least six months.
We hadn't argued. Last time I saw her we - " Aden suddenly remembered
what he'd done with Merilee the last time he saw her. Mentioning it to
Kerra wasn't the best idea.

"Well, she seemed to think you'd stolen a contract out from under her,"
Kerra continued, with a sharp look that told him she'd caught the
omission. "She had an undetected temporal glitch and arrived at the
rendezvous a week after she was supposed to get there. The client had
released the cargo to another ship. A ship called theRed Lion.

"Gandes," Aden hissed, as though the name were some sort of loathsome
disease.

"How many smuggler ships calledRed Lion can there be?" Kerra pointed out.

"Probably not many, but it's not outside the realm of possibility that
there could be two," Emarr answered, stepping onto the bridge. "Still,
such a coincidence is unlikely." He wore scuffed suede pants and nothing
else, and a jolt of irritation flashed through Aden. For once couldn't
Emarr dress like a normal guy? He didn't live on that bloody primitive
planet he'd grown up on any more. He was a crack starship pilot, was
comfortable with high-tech weapons, and spoke fluent Galactic. There was
no reason to wear rocks in his hair and to flaunt his muscles like some
bloody alien warlord.

"So we have some idea now where Gandes is," Kerra summarized, "or at
least where he might be. The question is, how do we use that information?"

"By keeping you as far away from him as possible," Aden said vehemently.


"For how long, Aden?" Kerra demanded. "Months? Years? Forever?"
===============================================================


"Look Kerra, I've seen firsthand what this guy's capable of. You haven't.
I'm not going to let - "

"There you go again, trying to make unilateral decisions for the both of
us. I thought we were past that, Aden."

"That was before you suggested something so - "

"What exactly did I suggest, Aden?" Kerra challenged.

"You want us to go after him!"

"Surely it is better to be the hunter than the hunted, Locke," Emarr
said. "You faced Gandes directly before, and defeated him."

"No, he didn't," Kerra corrected. "He framed him, made it look like he
was the one selling weapons to the rebels on that planet, as well as to
the government. There was never a direct confrontation. To this day,
you've never faced Gandes in battle, have you, Aden?"

"The man is a monster," Aden snapped. "He has no pity, no compassion. You
want me to admit I'm afraid of him, Doc? Yeah, I'm afraid of him. Any
sane man would be. Even so, I'd be more than happy to face him man-to-man
this time around, if it wasn't for you. I refuse to risk you ending up
like Jannia. And if that makes me a coward, or an overbearing jerk, so be
it."

"You're still acting like it's your decision to make, Aden." Kerra said.
"It's not. I don't intend to prolong this situation forever. I want it
resolved, Aden, and the sooner the better." She shoved a hand through her
tangled curls. "Either we follow this lead, find Gandes, and finish this,
or I'm taking my chances on my own from now on." Kerra's heart clenched
painfully as she spoke her ultimatum. Saw the stricken look on Aden's
face. He looked as if he'd been shot with a photon cannon.

"You promised me, Kerra." Aden's voice was raw, harsh, and the force of
his gaze seemed to burn right into Kerra's soul. "You swore you'd stay
and see this through."

"That was before I realized you never intended to see it through," Kerra
shot back.

"So be it, then," Aden hissed. "We'll go after him. And when I'm holding
your broken, violated body in my arms, Kerra, just remember whose idea
this was."

"So what else did Merilee tell you?" Aden asked. He'd avoided the topic
as long as he could, giving Kerra a chance to cool down. Now they sat
with Emarr in the ship's common room, half-finished drinks getting warm
in front of them. The silence had been getting oppressive, and they had
to discuss this sometime.

"TheLion took off out of New Hope Spaceport on Brenhalt's Planet three
weeks ago," Kerra said. "He was heading for Benakai, right on the fringe
of the Silver Nebula Territory, with a cargo of medicines for a rebel
group there."

"By now he'd have made his delivery at Benakai," Aden said. "That would
be a straight in-and-out. Gandes isn't the type to stick around and get
involved in some doomed local insurrection. Not on the rebels' side,
anyway, and the Benakan government would rather shoot a smuggler than
look at him."

"So where do you think he'd have gone after Benakai?" Kerra asked.

Aden nodded. "After Benakai, the nearest safe ports are Miakar and
Settlan. No guarantee he went there, though."

"There has to be some way of determining where he went after Benakai,"
Kerra said. "We can't lose the trail this quickly."

"We won't," Aden assured her. "We just have to figure out, based on what
we know about Gandes, where he'd be most likely to surface next."

"Well, that counts me out," Kerra replied. "He's insane and he's evil.
That's the extent of what I know about him."

"That, and he's suffering from a Kethrian pheromonal addiction," Aden
reminded her.


Kerra groaned aloud. "Please say we don't have to go back there!"
=================================================================


"Not in my lifetime," Aden assured her with a visible shudder.
"Pheromonal addictions are very specific. Gandes needs the services of
the Kethrian who addicted him in the first place."

"Vaialora," Kerra surmised.

"Vaialora," Aden confirmed. "Who, unfortunately, isn't that difficult to
track. She can't go more than about two weeks without hitting port for a
little R. and R. Not unless she wants to create another Gandes."

"Which is to be avoided at all costs," Emarr agreed. "But without getting
close enough to Beckhaven to access its computer files, Gandes would have
no way of knowing where to start looking."

"He'd know better where to start looking for her than for us," Aden
corrected. "They were partners for almost two years, before a bit of
engine trouble and an unplanned vacation out in deep space changed
things. He knows her favorite haunts, and which places she avoids. Vaia's
pretty much a creature of habit. She's had to be."

"What if he's already found her?" Kerra asked uneasily.

"Oh, it won't have been that easy," Aden said. He wished he were as sure
as he tried to sound. "Vaia's on her guard against him, don't forget."

"The harder it is for Gandes to find her, the harder it will be for you,"
Emarr reminded them. "Our adventure on Kethry has cost you some time.
Where was Vaialora headed the last time you saw her?"

"We don't even know," Kerra said. "We all agreed it would be better that
way. If Gandes caught some of us, we couldn't be made to tell him where
the others were."

"Which was fine as long as we were on the defensive," Aden said. "But
makes it a little difficult now that we're going after him. Here's a
question. What if he's on our tail already? We could lead him right to
Vaia and Jann. That can't be what you want."

"Benakai's the last place theLion was headed," Kerra said. "I say we go
there and see what we can find out. I just hope the trail hasn't gone
completely cold by the time we get there. We haven't got a lot of time."

"Which means we probably leave yet another port without doing any
business," Aden groused. "We'll be destitute if this keeps up much
longer."

"There's always that fallback account you mentioned," Kerra reminded him.

"Fallback account?" Emarr shook his head as if shocked. "What kind of
smuggler are you?"

"I'm going to talk to a few people and see if I can finagle some kind of
transport deal between here and Benakai, even if it's only a milk run,"
Aden said, rising from the table. "Dengas, see if you can find Merilee.
Maybe she has more information than she volunteered. You coming with me,
Doc?"

Kerra shook her head. "I think I'll head back to the ship and see if I
can find anything useful in the station database."

Aden nodded. "Be extra careful. You've seen how rough this place can
get." He came within firing range of asking Emarr to go with her, but
curbed the impulse. Forced himself to turn away and head back toward the
bar, when his instincts said not to let her out of his sight. He'd treat
her like a real partner from now on if it killed him.





Compared with the chaos of the common area, the hangar bay seemed eerily
still and desolate.

The ancient lighting panels flickered dimly where they worked at all,
bathing the hangar in a ghostly artificial twilight. Long, black shadows
gathered in every corner, behind every random pile of cargo containers,
against the quiescent bulk of every docked vessel. It reminded Kerra
uncomfortably of a child's nightmare, in which unspeakable things would
lurk in those shadows. The cold silence reminded her of abandonment and
loss, the living, waking nightmares that had haunted her all her life.

A big part of her wished she had stayed with the others. She'd never
liked being alone at the best of times. But running back into Aden's
sheltering arms was not an option.

Still, it wasn't until she'd reached the security of theGolden Key 's
cool metal hull that she released the breath she hadn't realized she was
holding. She was safe.

Or not.

A powerful arm thrust out from the shadows, jerking Kerra back against a
chest that felt like stone. The cold metal of a gun barrel dug cruelly
into Kerra's side, freezing her instinctive reach for her own weapon.
Colder still was the stab of dread that shot through her as the man's
hand groped its way down her body, finding and taking her blaster. He
threw it far from her, and it discharged, uselessly, against the hangar
wall.

Not Gandes. Please, God, don't let it be Gandes.






CHAPTER 15
==========






"You should have stayed with your smuggler friends, Doctor Telsier," a
low male voice hissed. Her assailant's breath felt hot on Kerra's face,
smelling of stale liquor and overspiced food. "You're obviously not as
bright as my clients led me to believe."

Not Gandes. A bounty hunter. Almost as bad. "I don't know what you're
talking about," Kerra tried to keep her voice level, though he had to
feel her heart pounding in terror. "I'm not this Doctor Telsier. I've
never even heard of her."

"Nice try, honey," the bounty hunter gloated. "But I heard you and that
O'Hare bitch talking. You told her your real name."

Fear lanced through Kerra like a laser strike. How could she have been so
careless? She should have maintained her Alderian disguise, should have
changed her name. She'd let herself forget. Forget that she'd had
problems of her own before she'd even heard of Aden Locke or Tral Gandes.

"I can pay you," Kerra offered desperately. "I've still got over half of
my credit file. It's yours if you'll just pretend you never found me."

The bounty hunter laughed, dragging her away from theKey 's sheltering
hull. "You don't get it, do you? Your credit file's the finder's fee." He
dug the weapon's muzzle mercilessly into the tender flesh under Kerra's
ribs. "Not nice of you to spend half my money like that, Doc. Your people
better be willing to make up the difference, or old Darhalen might have
to take it out in trade." He thrust his hips suggestively against her.
"Might do that anyway."

"There's one little problem," Kerra managed to bite out past the bile
rising in her throat. "I'm no use to the Divran government dead, and
that's the only way you're going to take me back there."

"Think again, little girl," Darhalen gloated, digging his weapon even
further into her flesh. "This is a stun weapon. At this close range, it
will give you a nasty burn, but it won't kill you. Probably not, anyway."

"That's what I hoped you'd say." Kerra twisted her body hard to one side,
elbowing the arrogant bounty hunter solidly in the belly. Her booted foot
came down hard on his instep. Another twist, and a hard shove. There was
a crackling amber burst of energy as the stun weapon discharged, catching
Kerra a glancing blow. A searing, blinding pain was the last thing she
felt before her arm and most of her side went numb.

She dove for the ship, stabbing at the release for the entry ramp as
Darhalen raised his weapon for another shot. Another amber burst narrowly
missed her as she went down, rolling under the hatch as it descended. It
came down fast, too fast, and would have crushed her had she been a hair
slower reaching the other side. She leaped on, hitting theCLOSE switch.

Darhalen clambered on behind her, narrowly missing being bitten in half
by the vessel's closing jaws. The hatch slammed shut with a bang,
knocking Darhalen off-balance. Which gave Kerra the moment she needed.

She drew her holdout blaster. Darhalen's weapon exploded in a burst of
crimson fire, taking his hand with it.

"This isn't a stun weapon," Kerra panted. "I suggest you get that hand
replaced. Now get off my ship and don't come back." She opened the hatch.

The bounty hunter looked at Kerra, at the blaster still pointed
unwaveringly at his body.

He ran.

"That's a complication we could have done without," Aden said when he
learned what had happened. "You should have killed him, Doc. Now the
Divran government's got a confirmed sighting to work from, and Darhalen
won't forgive you easily for taking his hand."

"Occupational hazard, isn't it?" Kerra pointed out. "I'd think he'd be
grateful I didn't kill him."

"There's no such thing as a grateful bounty hunter," Aden said. "Then
there's the damage to his reputation. Losing a body part going after a
dangerous war criminal or a high-powered drug lord is one thing, but a
runaway scientist? He'll be a laughingstock."

"Gee, thanks," said Kerra. "I imagine they'd be laughing a lot harder if
I'd killed him."

"He's not going to see it that way. You have a real knack for getting the
wrong people mad at you, you know that, Doc?"

"It's part of my charm?" Kerra suggested hopefully.

"Sometimes I wonder," Aden replied.

"I found us a contract," he added. "I don't know if you'll approve, but
it's all I could manage in the time we have. At least the cargo's bound
for Benakai. We won't have to make any detours."

"What is it?" Kerra asked.

Aden grinned wickedly. "I think I'd rather show you than tell you."





"Please have your vessel prepared for inspection upon landing. All cargo
holds and personal effects storage should be unlocked to prevent the
necessity of damage. A scan for directed-energy weapons will be conducted
before entry and all weapons not drained of charge will be summarily
confiscated. Expect a full-body search for concealed bladed or projectile
weaponry."

The voice coming over theGolden Key 's comm system was organic, but might
just as well have been mechanically synthesized for all the warmth it
contained. It reminded Kerra of a lab administrator she'd once known.

"Is that really necessary?" said Aden from the seat beside Kerra's. His
voice held just the right note of offended innocence. "This isn't exactly
the most auspicious way to start off a romantic vacation, if you know
what I mean."

"Save the aggrieved-tourist routine for someone willing to listen,Golden
Key ," the humorless port official replied. "We're more than familiar
with the Beckhaven Station port registry around here. All that remains to
be seen is whether or not you're here on business."

"Damn. I knew I should have had the registry switched when I bought this
thing." Aden sighed deeply, turning to Kerra. "I'm really sorry about
this, honey. Last time I buy a used ship from one of those discount
places. Make it up to you?"

"I'm sure I can figure out a way," replied Kerra with a sweetly wicked
smile. "It shouldn't be too bad. After all, it isn't like we have
anything to hide."

"That remains to be seen," the official snapped, then abruptly terminated
his transmission.

"Great," Aden snarled the moment the comm screen went dark. "Another
bloody crackdown. As if we didn't have enough problems. I hope you have
those Amardel erotica tapes well camouflaged."

"False labels and a full half hour of false footage spliced onto the
start of each one," Kerra confirmed. "Very boring false footage."

"So did you watch any of them while you were splicing on this false
footage?"

"Maybe a little," Kerra admitted, heat rushing to her cheeks.

"I'm surprised." Aden grinned. "I didn't expect you to admit it."

"I was surprised, too," Kerra said. "There's nothing on the one I looked
at that you and I haven't done. And the filming was pretty tasteful.
Nothing there to indicate why it's illegal here."


"You didn't notice?"
====================



"Notice what?"
==============


"A Tarenash with a Kovarin. A Kethrian with a Shian-ru. The Benakans
consider trans-species mating an abomination." He smiled mirthlessly.
"Should you tell Emarr about the monitoring device he has to wear, or
should I?





"I cannot believe they confiscated my holdout blaster," Emarr complained,
peeking over Kerra's shoulder. Kerra was scanning the port manifest - it
was beginning to feel that that was all she ever did. Scan port
manifests. For all Aden's recent protests about how essential her
computer skills were to their partnership, she could probably be replaced
by a well-designed specialty droid.

"The Olaret I bought the thing from assured me it would fool any scan
known to modern science," Emarr continued. "Either the local port
authority bought their scanning equipment from a time traveler, or I let
myself be taken in like a rank amateur." He scowled. "As well, I suppose,
I might have given in to the temptation to use it on that port authority
doctor." He moved to rub at his groin, reminded of the monitoring device
implanted there, but a glance at Kerra stopped him. He flushed, his skin
turning an unattractive greenish-brown.

"There," Kerra said, relieved to find a legitimate change of subject.
"Red Lion, Beckhaven registry. There's an arrival time and docking pad
assignment but no departure time listed. Emarr, I think he's still here!"

Emarr frowned. "This feels wrong. It seems too easy. Maybe he ran afoul
of the port authority himself. I'll check into it. You go find Aden and
tell him what we've found."






"So what have you got?"
=======================


Aden burst onto the ship's bridge without a kiss or even a hello. Emarr
came in behind him.

"Nothing on why theLion was detained," Kerra said. "I can't even get
confirmation that Gandeswas detained, and didn't just stay here for his
own reasons. I almost didn't find him at all. He's at a different
spaceport, a smaller one, practically on the other side of the planet. Or
the lack of a departure time may have been an oversight."

"Or Gandes may have had his departure data deliberately deleted from the
system to confound pursuit," Emarr offered.

"That's what I like about you, Dengas," Aden growled. "You always offer
such helpful suggestions."

"Either way we're going to have to check it out," Kerra said. "Which
means going to this other spaceport."

"Afterwe've unloaded those tapes," Aden said. "This wouldn't be a good
time to get arrested."





The smaller of Benakai's two spaceport cities simmered with restrained
violence even as Crossroads Station had openly boiled with it. Though no
weapons were in evidence, there was a tense, waiting quality to many of
the beings there. It reminded Kerra of a pit of snakes, coiled and
waiting to strike. Kerra had never expected to see the day when she'd
feel naked without a weapon.

She hovered close to Aden and Emarr as they negotiated their way through
myriad levels of paranoia, attempting to get through to whatever black
market in weapons may exist here. Their quest led them to the back room
of a smelly local cheese shop.

"No, we don't want a foursome - or fivesome, or whatever - with a pair of
Tarenash." Aden told the scar-faced being of indeterminate gender who ran
the place. "I've sworn off alien women permanently. Or any women besides
this one, for that matter."

"Too bad," the shopkeeper replied. "That could have got you. Weapons -
ones confiscated destroyed. Blasters none, stunrays none, projectiles
none. Best bet find hardware store, buy kitchen knife. Sell mine but then
how cut cheese, eh?" The being cackled wildly at its own joke.

"About this - service - you're offering," Kerra cut in. "How do you
circumvent the monitoring devices?"

"Same way as put in," the alien replied. "Laser scalpel. Cut very fine.
Am careful - permanently damaged only two, maybe three."


Aden winced and paled. "Had to ask that one, didn't you, Doc?"
==============================================================


"Professional curiosity," Kerra replied. "Plus I figured Emarr'd want to
know." To the shopkeeper she said, "Do you know where we could get some
of those?"

"Of course," the shopkeeper replied. "Know place where big bump in road -
medical supplies fall off transport, regular basis, get me? Know fella
picks up, name Brock. But laser scalpel cut small, no range. Close enough
use for weapon, big trouble already."

"I never said we were going to use them for weapons," Kerra said.

"Don't want know," the alien grumbled. "Don't care. Don't tell Brock this
one sent you."

"Don'ttell him you sent us?" Kerra raised a brow.

"Never mind," Aden broke in, pulling her to her feet. "You will tell me
what the scalpels are for, right?"

"Section K. This is where theLion is supposed to be berthed." Kerra
frowned as she scanned the tier-upon-tier of cantilevered docking berths,
the various levels joined by steep, narrow escalators, nearly half of
them rendered motionless by malfunction and neglect.

"Obviously the low-rent district," Aden muttered. "Gandes has moved down
in the world. He'd never have settled for these kind of accommodations in
the old days."

"He has been out of the game for many years," Emarr reminded him. "He
needs to rebuild his fortunes."

"Well, his ego's as big as it ever was. This doesn't feel right."

"K-327-B. Up there." Kerra pointed to a spot near the far end of the
third tier up from where they stood. "Can you see it from here?"

Aden took the macroviewers from their pouch on his belt and scanned the
area she indicated. "Yeah, that's theLion , all right. I'd know that
cheesy paint job anywhere. I always meant to paint over the colors Vaia
picked, but I never got around to it."

"If she hasn't been repainted in ten years, no wonder she looks cheesy,"
Kerra replied. She glanced over at Emarr. "You don't… you know, sense
anything… do you? Life signs?"

"None, Maiden. The vessel appears to be abandoned."

"I've never much trusted appearances," Aden remarked. "Kerra hasn't been
able to catch any incoming or outgoing transmissions, but that could only
mean that they're being masked in some way she can't detect."

"Watch your mouth, Aden," Kerra retorted.

"I want to get on board her," Aden said. "I want to see if that demented
bastard's tampered with my ship."

"And if he's on her after all?" Kerra questioned. "What then? Empathy's
not exactly what you'd call an exact science."

"Only one way to find out," Aden asserted. He wrapped his fingers tightly
around the laser scalpel tucked into his pocket. Kerra had assured him
that she'd modified such devices before in the course of her research,
but he doubted she'd ever done this kind of conversion before.

He glanced over at her. Her sweet mouth was drawn into a tight line, and
she swallowed, hard. But she wasn't trembling, and her eyes were fixed on
their goal. She wanted an end to this as much as he did, though their
reasons had changed.

He forced a grin. "Let's get this party under way."

Up close theRed Lion looked battered and worn, more so than Aden
remembered. The brilliant colors Vaialora had chosen all those years ago
were faded and blistered where they hadn't been blasted completely away.
She'd been a beauty of a ship once, and she still had it where it
counted, but compared to theKey she looked like a sorry derelict.

But she washis derelict, damn it! After all they'd been through together,
to see her in the hands of the likes of Tral Gandes -

"I hope he hasn't changed your security codes," Kerra whispered at his
elbow.

"Move aside," he told her. "We're going to need maneuvering room fast if
he's in there." He pulled out a remote transmitter and punched in his
codes. Kerra held her breath.

There was a barely perceptible change in air pressure as the security
field dissipated. Emarr poised behind them, ready to lay covering fire if
needed.

Aden hit the hatch release with one hand, drawing his weapon with the
other. The ramp descended slowly, jerkily, with a rasp of straining
machinery and a sharp smell of abraded metal and congealed lubricants.
Aden reminded himself to get that looked at once this was over.

The ramp clanged to the hangar decking. The ship yawned open before them,
dark and abandoned.

Kerra began to lower her weapon, but a shake of his head stopped her. It
could be a trap. Cautiously, Aden stepped on board, slightly ahead and to
one side of Kerra. Emarr had placed himself on her other side, and for
once his protectiveness of her was welcome rather than annoying.

Their footsteps echoed creepily in the silence.

The ship's common room stood cold and empty. It smelled metallic with the
recycled oxygen of a ship that had stood closed for some time. Aden's
fingers brushed against a tabletop and left no mark. The vessel was clear
of dust.

Either someone had finally fixed the ancient air filtration system, or
the ship wasn't as abandoned as she seemed.

For all her lack of experience, it was Kerra who noticed the movement
first. Her hand caught at his sleeve, her voice breathing his name
urgently as she pointed. Aden barely caught a glimpse of rust-colored
hair before the figure had vanished from sight.

"He knows we are here," Emarr hissed.

Aden pushed Kerra behind him. He raced toward the corridor down which the
figure had vanished. "Cover her!" he ordered Emarr. Holding his modified
laser out before him, Aden dashed after Gandes' fleeing form with murder
in his heart.

He burst into theLion 's galley a split-second behind his quarry, Kerra
and Emarr hot on his heels. His eyes swept the narrow, darkened chamber,
seeing nothing. But there was only one entrance to the galley, and that
was blocked by Emarr's emerald bulk.

From the shadows of the far corner something flew at Aden's head.
Instinctively he threw up his arm to block it, knocking it aside. It hit
the deck with a clatter of metal on metal.

The lights came on in a flickering flash of fluorescence as someone -
Kerra? - located the switch. Aden's gun hand swung toward the figure
crouching against the galley's rear wall - and froze.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" the cowering figure gibbered, shielding its
head with its arms. "I've done nothing! I've got nothing! Just don't hurt
me!"

Aden lowered his weapon, gut swirling with a mixture of embarrassment and
disgust. "Another bloody Kethrian."

"It was a fair trade," the boy persisted belligerently, his amber eyes
glaring resentfully at Aden. "Tami did not know it was your ship. The
papers were inhis name."

"I'm sure that's true, Ayav," said Kerra soothingly, patting the young
Kethrian's arm. It was difficult to determine the boy's actual age, given
Kerra's limited experience with his species. No bigger than the average
Human ten-year-old, he was nonetheless sexually mature, as evidenced by
the sprinkling of reddish body hair on his bare chest, arms, and legs -
and by the avid interest in his eyes when he looked at her. Thank heaven
Kethrian males weren't supposed to share their women's all-consuming
appetites.

"Do you know where Gandes was headed?" Aden demanded, jerking the boy
around to face him, dislodging Kerra's arm in the process.

"Is he in trouble?" Ayav directed the question to Kerra. "We're in
trouble if we don't find him before he finds us," she said. "He's not a
nice man, Ayav."

"Would he have hurt Tami?" The boy bit his lip nervously, making him
appear even younger.

"Where was he headed, Ayav?" Aden demanded, more forcefully this time.

"I do not know. It was business. Tami handles the business, and Giy a
little. It had nothing to do with me."


"Then I suppose we have to talk to Tami," Aden said. "When's she coming
back?"


"I do not know." Ayav's voice cracked miserably and he sounded like he
was going to cry. "We had made our delivery just barely ahead of the
security crackdown. The shipment was seized from our clients right after
delivery, but Tami had made it out in time. We were preparing to leave -
Tami just had a little last minute business to do. She took Giy with her.
That was two weeks ago. They never came back."

"And you never tried to find out what happened to her?" Aden demanded
incredulously.

"I did not know how!" From the choked tone of Ayav's voice, Kerra
expected him to burst into tears at any moment. "Giy does that kind of
thing. I just take care of the ship. The ship, and Tami." He wiped his
nose on the ornamental cuff adorning the wrist of his otherwise bare arm.
"You could find her," he added. His eyes fixed on Kerra, brimming with
forlorn hope. "I would be - I would be grateful." He met her gaze, raised
a hand to gently brush her cheek. "Tami wouldn't mind if it were for her
sake."

Aden grabbed the Kethrian's arm and jerked his hand away from Kerra's
face. "I'd mind," he growled. "My sharing days are over."

"It's all right, Ayav," Kerra told the boy quietly. "We need to find her
anyway. I don't expect anything in return."

A look of irritation and disappointment crossed Ayav's face, but he
nodded. "She was to meet with a woman named Alivar at a tavern called the
Wild Comet, fifteen local days ago." "Thank you," Kerra said. "Don't
worry, we'll find her for you."





Aden almost bolted when the bartender pointed out the woman he sought.
Alivar was Human, like most Benakans; tall and husky, a
light-brown-skinned woman of indeterminate race or races. She was also
dressed in a severely-tailored, red-and-gold port authority uniform.

Aden's heart pounded hard inside him, but he schooled his face to
nonchalance as he turned back toward the bar. "Why would a smuggler
choose to meet with a port official?"

"Bribery?" Kerra suggested.

"Maybe," Aden conceded reluctantly. "But Ayav said they'd made their
delivery safely."

"Only one way to find out, isn't there?" Kerra said.

"Frankly, Doc, I'd rather be thrown into a pit of angry dogs."

"We haven't done anything illegal here," Kerra pointed out. "Not yet."

"Not recently," Aden corrected grimly. "This isn't my first visit here."

"Then maybe I should talk to her," Kerra offered.

Aden nodded, but Kerra could see the reluctance in his eyes. He might say
they were equal partners now, but the protectiveness was still there. It
probably always would be.

She brushed her fingers reassuringly over his as she slid off her stool.

"Excuse me?" Kerra said as she reached the officer's table. "I'm looking
for Alivar."

The other woman looked up from the datapad she'd been scanning. "Then
this is your lucky day...or not, depending on who you are and what you
want."

"I want to know what business you had with a Kethrian pilot named Tamiana
Liori."

Alivar's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who wants to know and why?"

"A friend asked me to find her."

"Her friend or yours?" Alivar asked.

"Hers," said Kerra.

"You're not a bounty hunter." It was a statement, not a question.

Kerra shuddered. "Definitely not."

"You don't have the look of a private investigator, either," Alivar
continued.

Kerra couldn't resist asking. "Then what do I look like?"

Alivar looked her up and down. "Somebody who hasn't figured out what she
is yet."

The official's assessment struck a nerve. It stung.

"I really need to find out what Captain Liori wanted to see you about,"
Kerra prompted.

There was a long silence before Alivar answered.

"I don't see the harm in telling you," she said finally. "We impounded a
ship full of Kethrian males about a month ago and arrested the captain
and crew. She wanted to know what had happened to the...ahem...cargo."

"And what had happened to them?" Kerra prodded.

"They were being held in custody to protect them from exploitation until
we could decide what to do with them," Alivar replied. "Releasing them
into the general population didn't seem like a good idea. They're a
pretty helpless-seeming lot."

"Were they released into her custody?" Kerra asked.

"It was being discussed," Alivar admitted after a long, measuring pause.
"A few of the higher-ups didn't like the idea. She was a smuggler, though
we couldn't prove it. Like your friend over there." Alivar jerked a thumb
in Aden's direction.

Kerra gulped nervously. "What happened to her?" she asked.

Alivar regarded Kerra with interest through narrowed eyes. "You didn't
try to deny it. Didn't try to lie to me."

Kerra shrugged. "You can't arrest someone forbeing a smuggler unless he
actually smuggles something."

"Sad but true," Alivar admitted. "At least on this planet. Myself, I was
all for letting the boys go with her. They seemed willing enough. And I
guess enough people agreed with me, because they were going to let her
have them."

"What happened?" Kerra asked.

Alivar shrugged. "She never showed up to take custody. That's all I know."






CHAPTER 16
==========


"The question is, how much farther do we follow this lead before we admit
it's a dead end?" Aden demanded, pacing irritably up and down theKey 's
lounge. If there was one thing their experiences on Kethry had taught
them, Kerra reflected, it was to save their arguments for the safety of
their own ship.

"We've been on this planet for a week now, unable to do a scrap of
business because of the security crackdown, and we haven't found a single
trace of Tamiana Liori," Aden went on. "She's as good as dropped off the
planet. There'll be other leads on Gandes. It's time we got out of here
before we go completely broke."

"If we can't even find one woman in the same city on the same planet,
what possible hope do we have of finding one man among all the habitable
planets in explored space?" Kerra countered. "Sometimes I wonder if you
really want to find him at all."

"Of course I want to find him!" Aden insisted. "But the more time we
waste looking for Liori, the colder the trail gets. My guess? She was
abducted for the same reason I was abducted on Kethry. Forbidden
pleasures, Doc. It's a universal vice. Whoever took her is probably
already off-planet by now, as far away from that cross-species blue law
as they can get so they can enjoy their new concubine in peace. It's the
only possible explanation for such a sudden and complete disappearance."

"Anyone who uses the phrase 'the only possible explanation' is just
advertising his own lack of imagination." Kerra responded. "Or his
unwillingness to entertain any idea that doesn't fit in with his own
agenda. I think maintaining the status quo has become more important to
you than resolving our situation."

"Will you please speak Galactic and stop talking like a bloody
scientist?" Aden demanded.

"Iam a scientist!" Kerra shot back. Even as the words passed her lips,
she wondered if that were still true. The port authority officer's words
played back in her mind like a digitized recording. Who was she?
Scientist? How could she be, when any continuation of her work might draw
the attention of bounty hunters working for the Divran government?
Smuggler? That was just a role she needed to play for a while.

Aden's lover?

It wasn't enough anymore.

"Kerra?"

She hadn't even noticed the silence until he spoke her name, concern and
a touch of something else coloring his voice.

"I asked what you thought happened to her. You didn't even hear me. Where
were you, Doc?"

"I don't know," she answered softly. "Nowhere, I guess."


Aden frowned. "So what's your theory about Captain Liori?"
==========================================================


"I hate to admit it," Kerra said, "but your scenario does seem the most
likely one. There'd be some record if she'd been arrested for violating
taboo." She shook her head discouragedly. "I just don't like breaking my
promise to Ayav." She frowned. "Oh, Lord. Ayav. What's going to happen to
him? He's so small, so vulnerable. Like a little boy, really. We can't
just leave him here."

"I'll speak to Dengas about that," Aden promised. "I need someone to take
theLion back to Beckhaven, and I was planning to ask him."

"You're taking her back, then." It wasn't a question.

"I might be inclined to let Liori keep her if she were still around,"
Aden said, "but she's not. I don't think that boy can handle her by
himself."


"What will he do on Beckhaven?"
===============================


"Maybe Vaia will take him in."

"If we get to Gandes before he gets to her," Kerra reminded Aden.
"Emarr's not going to like being cut out of the confrontation."

"Too bad," Aden said. "He was never part of this, no matter how he feels
about Jannia. I didn't want to risk his life again in the first place."


"Okay," Kerra said, "butyou're telling him. Now, where do we go from
here?"


Aden brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "We
can't just keep on chasing rumors. It's netted us nothing but false leads
and dead ends. He's playing with us, Kerra. Leading us around like a
child's toy on a string. I'm sick of playing his game. It's time we made
him play ours."

"But how?" Kerra asked. She wasn't sure she liked the wicked grin
spreading slowly across Aden's face.

"Rumors," Aden said. "Tell me, Kerra, who does Gandes really want? More
than me, more than you? Who does he want so bad it's driving him more
insane with each moment that passes?"

"Vaialora."

"Vaialora," Aden concurred. "I think it's time we planted a few rumors of
our own, don't you?"





"No," said Emarr Dengas.

"No? What the hell do you mean, no? Somebody's got to take care of the
kid. I mean, two weeks alone on the ship and he didn't even think to go
for help? He'll get eaten alive. Maybe literally."

"No," Emarr repeated. He had been helping Aden check the vessel over,
assessing whatever damage she might have suffered under the custodianship
of first Gandes, then Liori. Thankfully, there was little such damage.
Gandes must not have had her long enough to have bothered making any
changes, and Liori's contributions consisted primarily of converting the
master cabin into a single wall-to-wall bunk.

"If this is about going after Gandes, Kerra and I can handle that," Aden
said. "I understand why you want to be involved, but this is important
too."

"No, to returning theRed Lion directly to Beckhaven," Dengas clarified.
"Absconding with theLionwithout first learning the fate of her current
owner is an extremely dishonorable act. I refuse to have any part of it.
TheLion had been legally confiscated by the lawful government of Divras
Four before Gandes acquired her, and this woman traded vessels with
Gandes in good faith."

"Excuse me?" Aden demanded. "Like you've never committed an illegal act?
Breaking and entering ring a bell? Unauthorized armed invasion of a
private residence? For that matter, smuggling?"

"I did not say illegal, Locke," Emarr explained impatiently. "I said
dishonorable. If Captain Liori has truly met the same fate as you did on
Kethry, you cannot simply abandon her to that fate. You have a moral
obligation."

"Moral obligation!" Aden roared in outrage. "Not even Kerra had the nerve
to play that card! I'm a smuggler, Dengas, one with a dangerously
unstable maniac out for his blood. I can't afford any moral obligations."

"Truly? And did not your current association with the maiden, Kerra,
begin as a moral obligation? The man you're now professing to be would
simply have left her on the first available planet."


"That was different!"
=====================



"Why?" Emarr asked. "Because she was willing to warm your bed?"
===============================================================


Aden had burst out of his seat and had his hands around the other man's
throat before either's heart had had time to take a beat. "You miserable
savage!" His roared, the roughness of his own voice stinging his throat.
"I ought to rip your head off for that!"

"So you do possess a sense of honor," Dengas said with irritating
calmness for a man within a hair of having the life choked out of him.
"Then why do you choose to ignore it?"

Aden released him, backing away, stunned at his own violence toward a man
who'd been his friend for years. Kerra must mean more to him that he'd
realized.

If that were possible.

"I can't afford to lose focus," Aden said finally. "Gandes and Kerra are
all I can see. All I can let myself see. If Liori's no longer a viable
lead to Gandes, I can't afford to concern myself with her. My first
obligation - my only obligation - has to be killing Gandes before he has
a chance to hurt Kerra."

"Then let me go after Liori," Emarr said.


"What?"
=======


"I will take theRed Lion only under that condition - that I need not
return immediately to Beckhaven. I will take the boy, and I will try to
discover exactly what has happened to his mistress. If I have not
discovered her whereabouts within six months, I will bring the ship and
the boy home."


"And if you find her, you'll ask her what she knows about Gandes?"
==================================================================


"That I will," Emarr promised.

"Okay," Aden said. "We've got a deal. And another thing. In your travels,
manage to mention to as many people as possible that theWisdom's Folly
was badly damaged in a run-in with customs officials in the Shian-dar
system. Word is they've put in on Advarra for extensive repairs. Just to
make it interesting, say Jannia was injured."

"You wish me to lie." There was no judgment in Emarr's tone, only
understanding.

Aden smiled without humor. "Let's just say it's Gandes' turn to be the
mouse."





"Alone at last," Aden quipped lightly once theGolden Key had cleared the
planet's atmosphere. His words broke the awkward silence that had hovered
in the air like a ghostly presence. There might have been miles
separating him and Kerra, and not just the scant few inches between his
seat and hers. When she'd begun pulling away from him again, he couldn't
be sure, but there it was. And there she wasn't.

"All these good-byes," Kerra murmured. "And every time it could be the
last time."

"Come on, Doc - that's always true."

"Not like this, it isn't."

Aden shook his head in frustration. "Look, Emarr can take care of
himself, and so can we. Just put it out of your mind. Otherwise, you'll
just drive yourself crazy."

"Emarr didn't even say good-bye," she complained softly.

"Yeah, well, the boy was pretty eager to get going," Aden said. "For a
meek little thing, he can be pretty insistent."

"I was just thinking." Kerra's voice sounded infinitely tired, almost
old. How could she sound old? She was younger than he was.

"Thinking?" he prompted when she threatened to lapse into silence again.

"What guarantee do we have that this plan of yours will work, Aden? What
if Gandes already knows where Vaia and Jann are? What if he already has
them? He could use them as bait. I know you - you'd go, right into his
trap, and you'd probably try to leave me behind. Vaia can't afford to
disappear for very long, can she?"

Aden shook his head. "The longest she can safely go without male
companionship is about two weeks."

"What happened with her and Gandes, anyway? She doesn't strike me as
someone who'd be careless, or cruel."

"She's only one-quarter Kethrian, don't forget, and she'd just left a
long-term relationship. She'd never gone without long enough for it to
have any real effect. Didn't think it could happen with her. She chose
Gandes as her second partner for the simple reason that they didn't
really like each other. It would just be business. No chance that her
nature would complicate things like it had with her and me."


"And then what?" Kerra asked
============================


"They'd been having problems with the partnership from the very
beginning," Aden explained. "Gandes had no moral compunctions about
things like slavery and gun-running, and was used to doing things his own
way. He'd been accepting contracts without consulting Vaia. She'd
threatened to dissolve the partnership three or four times, but at the
time neither of them was really in a position to make it on their own.
I'd even offered to take her back so she wouldn't have to stay with the
bastard, but the stupid woman was too proud."

"Or too smart," Kerra pointed out. "If you hadn't been able to make it
work the first time, why would either of you think anything would change
the second time?"

"I think Gandes was trying to find a way to make her stay," Aden said,
ignoring the interruption. "He knew about the Kethrian sex drive, but not
about the pheromone thing. That's a taboo subject off the homeworld,
apparently. He thought if he could get her into bed the first time, it
would create a bond between them and she wouldn't leave. So he sabotaged
his own ship."

Aden paused a moment, considering. "At least, I think that's what
happened. There was never any solid proof. At any rate, by the time they
managed to get the so-called malfunctions fixed, Vaia was halfway out of
her mind. She held off as long as she could, but when she realized she
was really getting sick she had no choice. I think by then she realized
what would happen. She chose the lesser of two evils."

"I don't think Gandes was expecting what happened to him either. He might
have accepted a cure if there'd been one besides castration. But when he
found out what the cure was, he went berserk. Kept Vaia a prisoner on her
own ship.

"I think it was Merilee O'Hare who rescued her; I was out on a run at the
time. Vaia was so afraid of Gandes by that time that she disappeared for
almost six months, finally coming back with a new, female partner. Gandes
was waiting for them. He broke into their ship late one night looking for
Vaia and found Jann instead, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"And she never found another way to help him?" Kerra asked.

Aden shook his head. "He never gave her a chance to try. By then the only
'help' he wanted was to do to Vaia what he'd done to Jann. She couldn't
allow that. None of us could."


"But he could be helped. Couldn't he?"
======================================


"Don't know, Doc. Like I said, no one ever got to try."

Kerra fell silent then, a small frown creasing her smooth white brow, and
nothing Aden said elicited more than one-word reply for the rest of the
day.





Kerra didn't come to bed that night, though she'd felt Aden's eyes on her
all day, caught glimpses of his dark, troubled gaze each time she turned
around. She knew her distance fed his fears, but there was little she
could do about that. Her mind was spinning with half-formed
possibilities, churning with elusive, half-glimpsed hopes.

It was just a matter of biochemistry, and what had been her specialty,
after all? Gandes wasn't evil, really, not the monster she'd been
fearing. Yes, he'd done horrible things, but they were nothing but
symptoms of an illness. Illnesses could be cured.

Okay, so he hadn't been a very nice guy before. Still, if this situation
could be resolved without killing him, wasn't she honor-bound to try?

But the answers to Gandes' malady were to be found on Kethry, and Aden
would never agree to return there even if she were willing to ask it of
him. Taking Gandes alive, if it were possible, would make her final
decision for her.

Kerra sat on one of the fold-down berths in the cargo hold, back to the
wall, a datapad resting on her drawn-up knees. Her fingers ached from
their hasty flickerings over the keypad, entering everything she knew of
Gandes condition, of similar ones she had heard of, of mating imperatives
in a hundred different species and what possible bearing they might have
on the problem at hand.

For the first time since fleeing Divras Four, there was a problem she and
she alone could solve. And she felt more alive than she had in months.

Except perhaps in Aden's arms.

She bit her lip sharply, drawing blood, letting the brief shock of pain
wash thoughts of Aden from her mind. She had to concentrate on the task
at hand. Who knew when their path and Gandes' would cross again? She
needed ideas, and fast, if she were to have any hope of ending this
without bloodshed.





"You haven't slept in days, Kerra. What the hell are you working on in
there?" Aden leaned over Kerra where she sat in theKey 's galley/lounge,
moving the food absentmindedly around her plate. "Damn it, Doc, answer
me! You haven't said two words to me in a week, you won't come to bed,
you barely eat, and your eyes are sunk so far back in your head you look
like a ghoul. You've got to talk to me!"

"I can't tell you until I know if it will work," Kerra said.

"You're not trying to alter the temporal guidance system again, are you?"
Aden demanded. "Because everyone I've talked to says that's really
dangerous. Everyone who's tried has disappeared without a trace."

"Maybe disappearing wouldn't be that bad an idea," Kerra murmured softly,
almost too low for Aden to hear.

"Sweet stars," Aden exclaimed. "That is what you're doing! Forget it,
Kerra. This isn't about speed any more. We've got to outthink Gandes, not
outrace him."

"I'm not trying to change the temporal settings," Kerra said. "I gave up
on that before we ever reached Beckhaven. It's not my area of expertise,
and itis too risky. This is something else. Please. I haven't even
figured out if it's possible yet."

Aden stared at her, realization dawning within him. This had started with
their conversation on the bridge, nearly a week before. She actually
thought that raping, murdering bastard could be saved!

"Forget it, Kerra," Aden said, slamming his hands down on the table with
enough force to make Kerra's plate bounce. "Even if you could do it, it
might take years to work out a treatment. This guy's dangerous! Weren't
you listening when I said he was unstable? Trying to take him alive could
get us both killed!"

"But if he can be helped, don't you think we have a moral obligation to
try?" Kerra protested.

Aden roared in frustration. "Moral obligation! You and Dengas and your
damned moral obligations! I don't understand either one of you!"

"Is it that easy for you to just kill somebody, then?" Kerra pressed. "Is
it so easy you don't even need to try and think of another way? Because
if that's the kind of man you are, Aden Locke, I'm more certain than ever
that we don't have a future together!"

"Maybe you're right." Aden wasn't surprised at the startled look in
Kerra's eyes; his words had startled even him. He'd thought his initial
doubts dead and buried, but then here they were, springing up between
them like a stone wall neither of them could get past.

Tears welled up in Kerra's eyes. "I don't want to be right," she
whispered softly, her voice ragged and broken. Her shoulders slumped with
grief and exhaustion. Shoving her plate away, she buried her face in her
folded arms and wept bitterly.

Kerra braced herself for the sound of Aden's footsteps walking away, for
what might as well be forever. The gentle touch of his hands on her
shoulders took her by surprise. He knelt behind her, sliding his arms
forward and around her in the most tender and unexpected of embraces.
"Damn it, Kerra," he breathed raggedly into her ear, and she could tell
that he, himself, was on the verge of tears. "Damn it, Doc, how did we
get ourselves into this mess?"






CHAPTER 17
==========


"Please tell me you aren't going to spend the entire trip to Advarra
buried in that datapad."

Kerra looked up from her work to see Aden standing there, a space-ration
pack in his hands. That was all they had left to eat after months of
system-hopping with only one contract that panned out. Kerra had wolfed
hers down without glancing up from the pad, not really tasting it. Which
was probably a good thing.

"No," she told him. "Actually, I'm near the end of what I can do without
access to the actual patient. I'd need to do a deep-brain scan, check his
neurotransmitter levels, spend time observing his behavior. Without that
opportunity, it's pretty much all guesswork."

"He's not going to give you the chance to do any of that," Aden warned
her. "You can't give a man a neural exam while he's trying to kill you.
What you're trying to do is admirable, but it's also foolish, naive, and
dangerous."

"That's me," Kerra retorted, a sarcastic edge to her voice. "Naive,
foolish Kerra. I keep forgetting that the big, brave man always knows
best. How silly of me."


"Listen to you, Kerra," Aden protested. "You don't even sound like
yourself!"


"Don't I?" Kerra demanded. "And how would you even know who I am? I'm
just learning that myself, after twenty-four years of being who someone
else wanted me to be. You know what? I'm not going to try to fit into
anyone else's idea of who I should be, not even yours." She rose, tucking
the datapad into her belt. "I'm going back to the cargo bay. Where I can
look over this data one more time - uninterrupted."

Aden threw his unopened ration pack carelessly down on the tabletop and
reached for her. His fingers curled around her upper arm and dug in, not
enough to hurt but enough to halt her escape. "Stop running away from me,
Kerra."

"You have the most astounding ego!" She pulled away, or tried to. He
wouldn't release her. She twisted, trying a hand-to-hand technique Jannia
had shown her, and he lost his grip - more from startlement, she thought,
than from the actual move.

She started again for the door. His body blocked her path. She tried to
dodge around him, but he moved with her, advancing. Forcing her to take
one step back, then another.

He braced his hands on either side of her, effectively pinning her to the
wall. "I want you back in my bed," he told her bluntly. "Tonight."

Kerra tried to escape by ducking under Aden's arm, only to be blocked as
he shifted his body to that side. Her escape thwarted, she met his eyes
levelly and braced her hands on his chest as if to push him away. "I
think anything that brings us closer together at this point is a mistake."

"So what's one more mistake?" Aden challenged. "You think anything we do
at this point will make parting any easier?"

"No. But I'm not crazy about the idea of making it harder."

"I was more interested in making it impossible." He moved closer, closing
the distance between them. She took an involuntary step backward. The
cold metal bulkhead pressed into her back. "You're the only thing that's
made this situation bearable."

"I'm a complication," she countered, the words coming out raw and husky
as it became harder to breathe.

"I like things complicated." He moved closer, his body almost touching
hers, a bare centimeter separating them. "And another thing. We can try
to take Gandes alive, but only if we can do it safely. We're not going to
risk your life or mine. I know the man, Kerra. You don't. Believe me,
he's not worth it."

Kerra said nothing, but turned her eyes away.

Aden raised his hand to cup the back of her head, turning her face toward
him. His fingers caressed her nape, at once firm and gentle. "You're
supposed to say, 'yes, Aden.'"

Her gaze was locked with his, the words frozen in her throat.

"Say it," he pressed, his tone low and soft, his belly and thighs
pressing into hers. "'Yes, Aden.' Say it."

"Yes, Aden." The words were a ragged, barely audible hiss.

His mouth covered hers, and she might have protested, reminding him that
this was not what she'd said yes to, if she'd been able to speak. But his
mouth filled hers, silencing any objections. His kiss was hard, and wet,
and powerful. Desire welled up within Kerra completely independent of her
will. If he'd taken her right there, she couldn't have roused herself to
stop him.

He released her.

"I want you in my bed tonight," he repeated. Without another word he
strode out of the galley, leaving his untouched meal abandoned on the
table.





"It's a drug," Kerra said, breaking the silence that hung in the air
between them. She had been entering the files from her datapad into the
bridge computer.

"What's a drug?" Aden asked her, making another minute course change.

"The answer to Gandes' problem. As near as I can figure, the altered
Kethrian pheromones cause a change in neurotransmitter levels that could
probably be controlled with carefully metered doses of synthetic
neurotransmitters. I'd have to analyze his brain chemistry to determine
the precise formulation, but once we capture him - "

"Remember your promise, Kerra," Aden cut her off. "Besides, how would we
make sure he kept taking the stuff? If a treatment's even possible. Don't
you think the Kethrians have tried?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. They view their males as possessions, after all. Maybe
to them it's a good thing. It ensures fidelity, right?"

"It didn't prevent Gandes from raping Vaia's partner. I'd call that a
pretty serious breach of fidelity."

"I imagine the effects on the smaller, less aggressive Kethrian males
aren't quite so dramatic," Kerra offered. She thoughtfully twisted one
finger in a curl of her hair, a frown creasing her brow. "Would you have
become like that, do you think? If Marelona Issari had succeeded with
you? Violent? Heartless?"

"I don't know, Kerra," Aden said. His heart clenched painfully. Hedidn't
know. The thought made him physically sick. "I'd like to think the way
Gandes was before the change had something to do with it."

"I don't like to think about it. In the galley, before...you can be so
forceful. I couldn't have stopped you, if you'd wanted to go further."

"I'd never hurt you, Kerra," he assured her softly, and willed himself to
believe it.

' "Are you sure?"

"I've never hurt a woman, and I never will," he vowed. "Especially not
you." He took her hand in his. "Things are going to get pretty crazy once
we reach Advarra. We should grab what rest we can, while we can. I think
it's time we both went to bed." He stood, refusing to relinquish her
fingers when she tried to move away. "Come on. Those bunks in the cargo
hold will give you a bad back before you're twenty-five."

Aden held his breath, half expecting her to pull away. But she let him
draw her to her feet and lead her to their cabin.

Aden had done something to their cabin.

Sometime, between their tempestuous kiss in the galley and their recent
discussion, he'd transformed it into something out of a young girl's
sweetest dreams of romance.

Where could he have found the candles? They were in hyperspace. He must
have been keeping a stash of them somewhere on board, though why eluded
her. Candles on a spaceship were beyond impractical. They burned valuable
oxygen, making the atmospheric systems work too hard.

And yet the cabin was filled with them. Dozens of them filled every
available surface, bathing the darkened chamber with a soft, glimmering
light. The soft, deep blue sheets on the wide bed were turned down
invitingly, the satiny sheen of them catching and reflecting the
candlelight. Even the scent of the air had changed. A subtle perfume
wafted on the air, carried by a gentle breeze, like flower-scented night
air from an open window .

How had he achieved that effect? The scientist in her wanted to go to the
ventilation grille and examine the controls. The woman in her simply
stood, inhaling the sweet, deceptively natural scent and feeling the
breeze stir her hair.

"Do you like it?" Aden's voice was husky, his breath warm and moist
against her ear as he came up behind her. His strong, powerful arms
encircled her, drawing her back against the hard male strength of his
chest.

Kerra only nodded. There seemed to be no breath left in her body.

He moved away, his body sliding against hers as he moved past her to the
candle-laden nightstand. He took one long, thin taper in his hand and
brought it toward her, holding up the flame for her inspection. She
brought up a hand as though to caress the flame, her fingers passing over
it as she gazed in wonder. Her fingers detected no heat, her eyes no
smoke. Peering closer, she could see that the "flame" flickered and
played over a tiny, barely-visible filament emerging from the candle's
hollow tip.

She chuckled softly at his cleverness. Knowing the source of the
"candlelight" did nothing to lessen the magic of the moment. Each candle
must have been fashioned by hand, the tiny power cells and delicate
filaments connected using the finest of tools, the most subtle of
touches. To create so many must have taken him most of the day. Just for
this moment, and for no other reason than to please her.

Aden set the candle back down and reached for Kerra's hand. His strong
fingers curled around hers, pulling her toward him, the edge of his thumb
caressing her knuckles. He brought her hand to his chest, resting the
open palm against his chest, just over the heart beating steadily,
rapidly within him. He was already aroused, she realized, though they had
barely touched - aroused by the anticipation alone.

Kerra knew how he felt.

She raised her eyes to meet his. How often of late had she avoided that
simple gesture of connection? Often enough to have all but forgotten the
true color of his eyes. Eyes the color of the storm-tossed waters along
the Kethrian coastline, where they'd clung to each other against the
pounding waves and fought their way to shore.

Her gaze still locked on his, Kerra found the fastening of his shirt by
touch alone. She eased a questing finger between the overlapping folds.
Soft whorls of chest hair curled around her fingers as the rest of her
hand slipped inside.

She had expected to feel his hands on her by now, gentle but demanding.
Yet even the hand that had guided hers to his breast no longer touched
her. He stood very still, holding her only with the power of his gaze. He
made no move to touch her further.

He wouldn't make it easy for her this time, she realized. The choice to
continue or not would be hers alone. And she knew - for she could see the
truth of it written in his eyes - that if she backed down now, it would
be over. Not at some nebulous future time, after they moved out of
Gandes' malevolent shadow.

But now. Now, and forever.

She swallowed hard, but the hard, bitter lump forming in her throat
refused to be dislodged. Whatever the future might bring, she wasn't
ready to lose him yet.

Sliding both hands inside his shirt, she explored the hard planes of his
chest, his shoulders. When the garment became an obstacle she pushed it
off his shoulders, unveiling more of him to her fevered touch. She
wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his throat, her lips
finding the pulse beating strong and fast there. A ragged moan escaped
him as her kiss deepened, but still he held himself still. Though from
the rigidness of his body in her arms, restraint was becoming harder.

As was he. She could feel the taut swell of him against her belly, barely
controlled by the soft leather containing him. She took his face in her
hands, her mouth hungrily claiming his, boldly invading, suckling,
biting. His lips parted for her, but no more. Though he trembled with the
effort, Aden remained still as a statue in her arms.

With a groan of frustration she tore her mouth from his. He wasn't
playing fair, damn it! It was one thing to make her initiate, to deny her
the opportunity of claiming later that he'd seduced her, but this - this
was torture, this was cruel and unusual punishment!

She raised her face to meet his gaze, her eyes burning with anger. She
was enraged to see him grinning at her!

"Made of stone, are we?" Kerra gritted out between clenched teeth. "We'll
just see about that."

She tugged his shirt down off his arms and cast it away. A faint sheen of
sweat covered him, shining in the candlelight. She bent her head to
sample its salty taste, her tongue caressing the hard smooth flesh of his
chest, finding and teasing the taut male nipple. She felt as much as
heard the quick hiss of his indrawn breath. At his sides, his hands
clenched into fists, their knuckles whitening with the effort not to
touch her.

Kerra stepped back and away, breaking contact. She turned and walked
toward the bed, keeping her back to him, as she reached for the fastening
at her collar.

She peeled off the one-piece scarlet coverall in a single fluid movement.
Bare, save for the lacy scraps of cloth covering what little was left of
her modesty, she turned back to face him.

"You don't get to make the rules any more, Aden Locke," she breathed
huskily. "If you want me, you have to meet me halfway."

Aden swallowed and nodded. His restraint was in tatters. The game had
gone too far. He'd meant only to ensure she couldn't accuse him, later,
of coercing her. Of failing to respect her wishes. Now, a part of him was
afraid to touch her. He had pushed himself too close to the edge. If he
let go now he didn't know what might happen.

Kerra stood between Aden and the bed, arms folded beneath her breasts in
a blatant gesture of challenge. Her sapphire eyes blazed with anger,
frustration, and desire. Aden knew she was as close to the edge as he was.

He took a single step toward her, her name harsh and ragged on his lips.
She held her ground a second longer, a second that stretched on into
eternity, and then she was in his arms.

Her mouth tasted sweet and wild, like spiced honey, and her kiss held
nothing back. Their tongues dueled mercilessly, thrusting and stroking,
as though they meant to devour one another whole, from the inside out.
She stole the breath from his body, and he from hers, until both were
forced to break away, gasping, and they clung together, barely able to
breathe, or think, or stand.

Kerra rested her forehead weakly against Aden's chest, her arms wrapped
around his waist half in possession, and half in fear she'd collapse if
she let go. She closed her eyes, wondering if the trembling she felt came
from his body or hers. His arms closed around her, crushing her roughly
against the hard strength of his body as his knees gave out beneath him
and they tumbled together onto the welcoming bed.

They landed hard, Aden taking the weight of Kerra's body on his own. His
hands caressed her shoulders, her back, her hips, stripping away the
fragile barriers that shielded her from his possession. Her heart pounded
inside her, her blood rushing in her ears with the sound of a thousand
rivers as he took her breast into his mouth, teasing the nipple with his
hot, wet tongue.

His name erupted from her throat in a horse, rasping cry. Her whole body
was on fire, every nerve crackling with a fierce, consuming energy. When
he moved away from her, panic welled up from deep inside her. She needed
him. Needed him now. Where was he?

Then he was there, his weight setting onto her like a hot, heavy blanket,
the last barriers between them gone.

She opened her eyes. His face hovered mere inches from hers. She smiled.
He returned the smile, licking his lips with the sensuality of a hungry
lion.

"I love you," he whispered, and thrust into her.

The universe dissolved then into swirls of pure sensation, as if they had
plunged together into hyperspace without the protection of a vessel
around them. There was nothing solid left, nothing real to cling to, save
for the man holding her, moving inside her.

His voiced hissed in her ear, something between a curse and a prayer. His
thrusts deepened, quickened, as though he sought to imbed himself in the
very core of her, and the wave of sensation rising up within her reached
its crest, crashing over them both like pure, liquid fire.






CHAPTER 18
==========


Kerra awoke slowly, consciousness creeping up on her, encroaching on her
dreams. Her body protested the return of consciousness, burrowing more
deeply into the hard warmth enfolding her, but awareness would not be
denied. With a sigh of surrender, she allowed her eyes to flicker open,
blinking away the last vestiges of sleep.

Aden slept still, the rugged lines of his face softened, making him seem
younger, almost as young as she. Yet even in sleep his embrace had not
slackened; as she stirred in his arms he shifted in his sleep, pulling
her even closer. Possessive, as if he had no intentions of ever letting
her go.


There was truth in sleep, Kerra noted. Or was that wine?
========================================================


She stretched, as much as she was able without disengaging from Aden's
embrace, and winced as she discovered a whole catalog of aches. He hadn't
been gentle with her last night. She hadn't wanted him to be. He had
taken everything her body had to give, and given her as much in return.
He had left his mark on her, in every possible way. It had been more than
mere sex, even more than lovemaking. It was as though he had claimed her
very soul.

Well, her soul he was welcome to, but her body had certain other needs.
Needs growing more urgent with each passing second. She shifted, trying
to determine how best to disengage herself without waking him. After a
moment's consideration, she managed to wriggle out under his restraining
arm and slip away.

Aden moaned in protest, bereft, and rolled toward her side of the bed.
Reaching for her, he found nothing but her empty pillow. This he clutched
to his chest, curling around it, burying his face in its softness.

Kerra sighed, watching him. Things seemed so simple, looked at from his
point of view. A night of great sex, and everything would be fine. But
when had sex ever resolved anything between them?

Not the first time, when they'd hoped to resolve the tension growing
between them, and not after Kethry, and not now.

She turned away, and went into the sanitory. At least there were a few
things in life that could be dealt with simply.





Gandes watched from a safe distance as theAji' s new captain activated
her repulsors. A rush of displaced air stirred Gandes' thinning hair as
the ship lifted off. He tossed the data chip with its brand-new credit
file in his hand and turned back toward the city.

He'd been lucky. More than lucky. He might have taken the reports of
Vaialora's whereabouts at face value, had he not spotted that ridiculous
green-skinned savage with Locke and Telsier before he'd begun spreading
them.

It hadn't been hard to trace the rumors back to the alien. He was the
sort of creature people would remember. Especially the women. It
nauseated Gandes, the way they spoke of the creature.

So Locke had wanted him to believe Vaialora was on Advarra. Very well. He
had gone to Advarra.

The temporal deviation had been a fortuitous accident. Out of habit, he
had almost corrected it. It was dangerous to let things be. A variation
of days could turn to one of years in moments. But the risk had been
worth it.

It might be weeks, now, before Locke arrived. More than enough time for
Gandes to prepare.





Advarra was a small planetoid located in an isolated asteroid belt. It
had once been a Shian-ru mining colony. Its atmospheric dome and
gravitational generators dated to that time, two or three hundred years
before, in name at least. After that length of time, it was doubtful
there was an original component left in either.

Observing the outpost from orbit, Aden and Kerra could see the patches in
the dome, spreading out in random fashion across the wide half-sphere,
the sealing between them criss-crossing the surface like the work of some
demented spider.

"This was the Densharites' original homeworld," Aden told Kerra. "It's
where the institution for the first group's failures was located, and
where the leaders lived for the first hundred years or so. I believe it's
still one of their holdings."

"It doesn't look like anyone's homeworld," Kerra said, gazing down at the
eerie-looking place with a shudder. "It looks like a mad scientist's
hideout in a holovid."

"You should feel right at home there, then." A reckless grin lit Aden's
face. Kerra realized with a sick sense of dread that he was actually
looking forward to the coming confrontation.

"Can you tap into their computers from out here? I'd like some assurance
we got here first."

"We must have," Kerra assured him. "We came straight here. Rumors spread
fast, but not instantaneously." She frowned as something occurred to her.
"They don't always spread reliably, either. What if the message gets
garbled? If Gandes thinks Vaia's somewhere else entirely? I don't want to
lose the trail again. I want this over."

The light went out of Aden's eyes. Kerra looked away.

Their escape from Divras Four seemed like a hundred years ago, now. She
knew she wasn't the woman - no, the girl - she'd been then, so afraid of
facing the unknown she'd given her heart, her body to the first man who'd
offered her even a temporary haven. She had kidded herself into thinking
they might have a future together, because a future alone was too
frightening to contemplate.

If only she hadn't been so stupid as to fall in love with him.

Kerra tried to access the outpost computers remotely, but got nothing but
static. "The system's too old," she told Aden with a frustrated shake of
her head. "That, and something in the asteroids seems to be breaking up
the signal. I can't get us anything until we land."

"Well, thanks for trying anyway," Aden said, laying a hand on her
shoulder. "Why don't you take us in, partner?"

She glanced at him in surprise. He'd been giving her piloting lessons
ever since they'd met, but only in deep space. He'd shown her how to
land, of course - she might have to in an emergency. But he'd offered her
few, if any, opportunities to practice her skills where it counted.
Though to be fair, she hadn't asked for them.

"From the looks of the place, the landing systems are probably as old as
the ones on Crossroads," Kerra said, suppressing a nervous shudder.

"That's okay," Aden assured her with a wicked grin. "We're not landing in
the hangar bay. We're not even landing in the city."

"What?" The man had clearly lost what little mind he had. "There's
nothing outside the city but uninhabitable desert. Is there even a way in
besides the hangar?"

"Of course there is, Doc. This used to be a mining colony. There were
surface vehicles. Ore carriers."


"Hundreds of years ago!"
========================


"The Densharites are almost fanatical about preserving the history of the
places they settle," Aden told her. "It comes from not having much
history of their own. A few hundred years, one little war back when there
weren't more than two dozen of them. They wouldn't have taken out any of
the old mining equipment."

"So we're just going to trudge across the airless waste and sneak in
through an entrance that hasn't been used in generations?" Kerra demanded.

"That's the plan," Aden confirmed.

Kerra shook her head. "You're nuts."

"Just take us down, Kerra."

Maneuvering through the asteroid belt was easier than it looked, as
gravity held the various asteroids in relatively stable positions
relative to one another. Slow, careful flying was required, with an eye
out for the smaller stones that sometimes weren't visible until you were
almost on top of them.

Kerra couldn't afford to spare a glance in Aden's direction, but she
could sense the coiled tension of his body.

Aden's hands gripped the armrests, digging into the hard synthetic
material. The temptation to seize control back from Kerra bordered on
overwhelming. But if he wanted to convince her this partnership actually
had a chance, it was time to start acting like he believed it.

Only once did she fly too close to one of the smaller boulders. It jarred
the ship hard as it careened off their shields. Kerra gritted her teeth
as she fought to compensate for the sudden lurch to starboard. A harsh
curse escaped her lips, a word Aden hadn't known she knew.

"Shields holding - damage negligible," Aden reported, scanning his own
board. "Almost there, Doc."

The planetoid loomed before them, filling the viewscreen. This close,
they could see through the dome to the city within, its lights like a
million candles through the smoky transparent bubble.

"How far out?" Kerra asked.

"A few kilometers."

"We won't be able to get back to the ship quickly if something goes
wrong," Kerra reminded him.

"It's a risk we have to take, Doc. Gandes would be pretty suspicious if
he saw theKey in the hangar when he comes in."

"He'll be suspicious when he doesn't see theFolly ," Kerra countered.
"Have you considered that one?"

Aden was silent.

Kerra skimmed theGolden Key low over the planetoid's surface, searching
for an appropriate landing spot. They needed cover, for it wouldn't do to
have Gandes spotting their ship from orbit and discovering their
subterfuge. Cover, but not so much cover as to complicate their eventual
takeoff. They might have to leave in a hurry. At last she found a likely
spot. She let the ship glide in under a cliff overhang. The looming rock
wall reminded Kerra uncomfortably of the seaside precipice on Kethry, but
she suppressed her reflexive shudder.

Kerra got up and reached for the storage locker where the vacuum suits
were kept.

"Not so fast, Doc," Aden told her. "Disguises. We're not supposed to be
there, remember?"

"Not the Alderians," Kerra protested with a groan. She'd been thrilled to
not have to play that role on their way off Divras Four. She didn't think
she could stand having to do it now. Especially since she suspected Aden
would enjoy it way to much.





"This veil itches," Kerra complained. She started to raise one gloved
hand toward her face. She let it drop uselessly to her side. Stars, but
she hated vacuum suits.

"Hush," Aden instructed her curtly. "Get in character. The person you're
supposed to be wouldn't be complaining."

"The person I'm supposed to be wouldn't be trudging across an airless
dustball because her boyfriend parked the ship halfway across the planet."

"It's not a planet, it's a planetoid, and the ship's not more an a couple
hours from the city. Count your blessings. At least we're within range of
the gravity generators and not in any imminent danger of floating off
into space if we take a wrong step. And you're the one who brought the
ship in and picked the landing site, not me."

"Under your instructions," Kerra shot back.

"Character, Kerra. Start practicing now. We can't afford to draw any
attention to ourselves by acting strangely once we're in."

"In other words, shut up. You're going to enjoy being able to boss me
around, aren't you?"

"More than you could possibly know." It was difficult to see Aden's face
through the vac suit's faceplate, but she could almost feel his wicked
grin - could hear it in his voice.


"I'm going to get you for this. You realize that, don't you?"
=============================================================


"I'm looking forward to it," Aden assured her. "Now get into character.
We're almost there."





"Do you see anything?" Kerra asked meekly.

At least, Aden thought, she was making a real effort to sound suitably
meek. It wasn't very convincing. A few months ago, perhaps, she could
have pulled off this masquerade effectively, but she'd changed. Become
more assertive. Stronger. More willing to let him know exactly what she
thought, even when what she thought was that he was behaving like a total
ass.

He kind of liked her that way. In fact, he was starting to regret their
choice of disguises. The meek, subservient Kerra was probably going to
drive him out of his mind.

"I see more than I wanted to know about the condition of this dome." Aden
gestured toward a hairline fracture in the smoky translucent material. A
faint hissing whistle bore eerie testimony to the precariousness of human
habitation here. It wasn't just air leaking out of the tiny fissure,
leaching into the vacuum, dispersing molecule by molecule into the
asteroid-sprinkled sky. It was life. And all it would take was one really
good crack, say, from a glancing hit by one of those asteroids, to let it
all drain away. Reaching into the pack hanging from his belt, he
extracted a small packet. "Time to perform a public service."

Kerra watched as he tore open the sealant patch and added the reagent,
activating the chemical reaction that would enable the durable substance
to bond with the dome's surface. It was part of their own emergency
supplies. "We have more of those, right?"

"Three more in the pack, five left on the ship," Aden assured her. "I
don't see any sign of a secondary entrance yet." He skirted the edge of
some boulders resting against the foot of the dome. "With our luck it's
clear on the opposite side."

"Or it's been sealed over," Kerra suggested unhelpfully.

Aden shot her a quelling look.

It was another half hour before they located the entrance. An old-style
airlock, large enough to accommodate small cargo shuttles. It jutted out
from the side of the dome, an ugly metal box, which would have long since
rusted away on a planet with air.

The wide metal doors stood forbiddingly closed, their bottoms half-buried
in the reddish-gray dust that covered everything. How long must it have
taken for that drift of dust to accumulate, on a world with no wind?

"Where are the controls?" Kerra ran a hand along the edge of the doors, a
frown creasing her smooth brow, just visible through her suit's faceplate.

"I think it might have been automatic."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," said Kerra. "What do you think
the chances are that the system will still be working, after all these
years?"

Aden didn't answer her. He stepped around the far edge of the airlock,
searching for some sort of manual override. Or at least an external
access panel to the computerized system.

Finally he spotted it. "Get over here, Doc. Have a look at this antique."

Kerra had already skirted the edge of the building. She moved to his
side, reaching a gloved hand to touch the panel. It was a small
rectangle, with a standard alphanumeric touchpad. Under this lay a small
slot, no more than two inches long, set vertically into the smooth metal
panel.

Next to this slot was a small, low access hatch.

"It usedkeycards ?" Kerra marveled. "That's not just antique, it's
primitive. Do you have any idea how easy those cards were to demagnetize?"


"Can you get in?"
=================


"If it still works, I can." Kerra unclipped the modified datapad from her
belt and aimed it at the panel. "It's just a matter of running through
the possible combinations, although it would help if I knew if it ran on
a three, four, or five number code."

"Start with three and work up," Aden instructed.

Kerra began, and then stopped, scowling. "This isn't going to work. These
old-style systems couldn't be accessed by remote beam, because the
technology hadn't been developed yet. I'm going to have to go in
manually. Can you help me get the panel off?"

It took both of them to pry the panel loose from the surrounding metal.
Finally it popped free, hanging loosely from the airlock's side by a mass
of colored wires. Kerra examined these for a moment, frowned, and then
began separating them, ripping each one free from the keypad one by one
and connecting them to her datapad. She worked slowly, methodically, and
Aden had to fight back the urge to rush her. This was her area, not his.

Kerra connected the last wire and entered a command into the datapad.
Numbers scrolled across the screen faster than the human eye could
follow, trying every possible combination. It exhausted the three-digit
numbers, then moved on to the four.

And froze. A single number blinked in the center of the screen.1432.

With a groan of disused machinery awakened from decades of slumber, the
door slid open. Kerra ducked inside, and Aden followed her, having to
bend almost double to accomplish it. It brought on an uncomfortable
flashback to his captivity on Kethry.

Kerra entered a command into her datapad and then quickly pulled the
wires free before the outer door rasped closed behind them. Air rushed
into the tiny chamber with a welcoming hiss.

"The inner door's operated manually," Kerra announced, after a quick
examination. She cocked her head, listening. The inrush of air had
stopped. She unsealed the hood of her vacuum suit and pushed it back off
her face.

The olive pigment and black, straightened hair might conceal her identity
from others, but her beauty and courage shone through it. Aden doubted he
could ever mistake her for anyone but who she was. His Kerra. His friend,
lover, and partner. The woman he loved more than he had ever suspected he
could love anyone.

He pushed back his own hood, and moved closer to her, if that were even
possible in the cramped little airlock. He lowered her veil and took her
head in his hands and kissed her. A long kiss. A slow kiss.

"What did you do that for?" Kerra asked breathlessly.


"In case I don't get a chance later. I'm supposed to be your father,
remember?"


"Dirty old man." Kerra stripped off her vacuum suit, unveiling the
disguise beneath. The garment hung loosely on her small frame,
effectively concealing the sweetly rounded figure of which Aden had
become so fond. The fabric was of a fine quality, silklike, shimmering
softly in the airlock's dim light, but it was the dull reddish-brown
color of old leaves. Aden watched, feeling a queer sense of loss, as
Kerra put up the garment's hood and reaffixed the veil over her face.

His own costume wasn't much better. As plain as Kerra's loose one-piece
outfit was, Aden's ensemble was equally garish. A rich sapphire blue, his
tunic was encrusted with synthetic gemstones of every conceivable color,
arranged in swirling patterns. Tassel-hung epaulets encased his
shoulders, and the stiffened, gem-encrusted collar jutted up under his
chin and threatened to choke the life out of him. Worst of all was the
grotesque and suggestively decorated codpiece, on which Kerra's eyes now
rested.

She was, to her credit, trying very hard not to laugh. It showed in the
tightness of her lips, in the slight puffiness of her cheeks as she held
her laughter in check.

"What?" Aden demanded, fighting to maintain some semblance of dignity.

"They don't really dress like that on Aldera, do they?" Kerra asked.

"Honey," Aden said, "this is tame."

"Must have been awfully uncomfortable under the vac suit."

"You don't know the half." Aden grimaced. "Let's get this thing open."

The inner airlock door was badly jammed, and it took both of them to
wrench it open. The suddenness with which it finally released knocked
Kerra off balance. She fell forward, almost hitting her nose on the floor
of the outer chamber before Aden caught her.

"Where are we, do you think?" Kerra asked as Aden helped her back to her
feet.

"It would have been a shuttle bay originally." Aden scanned the vast,
high-ceilinged chamber. Throughout the chamber, spaced at regular
intervals, were several rows of what looked like medical pods. At the
head of each pod was a computer module, not antiques as one might expect
but new, state-of-the-art models. The best that money could buy.

Closing the airlock, Aden and Kerra moved out into the room to
investigate.

Kerra peered into the nearest pod. She shot Aden a surprised glance.
"There's a child in here."

Aden nodded. It was no more than he had expected when he saw the pods.
"I'd wondered where it was done. The Densharites have always been pretty
secretive about their speed-teaching techniques."

Kerra glanced at the computer readout. "It's a boy, two years old.
Christopher Michael Silvers. He's on Module Three, Version Five, whatever
that is."

"We'd better move out. I imagine they check on these kids on a regular
basis."

Kerra gave the capsule with its tiny occupant a little pat. "Take care,
Christopher. Don't study too hard."

"Hold it right there."

The voice came from behind them. Aden whirled, hand going for his weapon,
and froze. Behind him, Kerra gasped.






CHAPTER 19
==========


"You've got about two seconds to explain what you're doing in here."
Kerra whirled at the sound of the high, lilting voice. Facing her was a
very young girl, holding a very large blaster. A blaster pointed rather
shakily at Aden. It was aimed at a part of his anatomy that Kerra had
grown rather fond of.

Kerra moved quickly away from the capsule, putting herself between Aden
and the Densharite guard. Realizing as she did so that she was probably
breaking her cover. The girl she was pretending to be would have been
hiding behind him.

"We didn't mean any harm," she asserted. "We got lost." She winced at the
lameness of the excuse.

"And just happened not to notice the restricted signs. Try again, lady."
The girl was older than the one Kerra had seen on Crossroads station.
Ten, maybe, or eleven. An adult by Densharite standards, but with a very
nervous kid looking out from behind her eyes.

A nervous kid with a blaster. A dangerous combination.

"Look, we don't mean any harm - " Kerra glanced at the girl's
close-fitting blue uniform, but there was no name in evidence.

"Suriah," the girl volunteered. "And that's Risael whose capsule you were
about to tamper with, probably killing him in the process."

"We weren't going to tamper with anything," Aden said, moving up beside
Kerra. "If you'll just show us the way out of here, we'll be on our way."

"How stupid do you think I am?" Suriah demanded. "The only way out of
here is the way you came in."

"I doubt that," Aden answered, gesturing back toward the airlock.

Suriah's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "That entrance hasn't been used in
generations. And your sneaking in a back door doesn't exactly speak
volumes for your benign intentions, Mr. - " Now it was Suriah's turn to
pause for a name.

"Ismaal Vihar, of Aldera. This is my wife, Darrisa."

"Nice try," Suriah scoffed. "But if she's an Alderian, then I'm her
great-grandmother. So - sneaking in a back door, and in disguise as well.
It's going to have to be a reallygood explanation."

"We're trying to keep a low profile, okay?" Kerra took a step toward the
girl and froze as the blaster rose to a level with her face. "We married
without permission. My father has bounty hunters out looking for us."

"Why were you touching the acceleration pod?"

"Curiosity," Kerra admitted freely. "I'd never seen one before."

"Of course you hadn't." Anger flashed in the young guard's eyes. "It's
forbidden."

"We're sorry," Aden said. "Darrisa is headstrong. It gets her into
trouble sometimes."

"No kidding," Suriah said. "You'll have to come with me. After you hand
over your weapons, of course." She looked sharply at Aden.

"Of course," Aden said. He reached for the blaster clipped to his belt.

"This really isn't necessary," Kerra said, twisting her hands nervously
in the loose fabric of her coverall. "We only used that entrance so
Father's hunters wouldn't spot our ship. We had no idea what this area
was used for. We won't tell anyone what we saw. I promise."

Aden held the blaster out, grip-first. Suriah reached for it. In that
moment, her attention rested fully on Aden. His companion, after all,
bore no weapons. No Alderian girl would.

But Suriah had been right the first time. Kerra was no Alderian.

"Drop your weapon," Kerra commanded. Her gun was trained not on Suriah,
but on the capsule containing the obliviously sleeping from of
Christopher Michael Silvers, a.k.a. Risael.

Suriah's face twisted in sickened horror. "You wouldn't. You couldn't.
He's just a little boy."

Kerra forced her features into an implacable mask. The girl was right, of
course. She couldn't. Not even for her freedom, not even for Aden. It was
a gamble. If Suriah called her bluff -

The girl's weapon clattered to the pitted metal floor. "You won't get
away with this."


"That's what they always say."In the holovids, anyway. Who writes this
kid's dialogue?


Aden bent to retrieve the dropped blaster. "That's better," he said.
"Little girls really shouldn't play with guns."

Suriah glared at him, gritting her small white teeth. Kerra slipped her
holdout gun back through the small hidden slit in her clothing. She gave
the acceleration pod another little pat. "No hard feelings, little
fellow. I wasn't really going to hurt you."

Risael smiled blissfully in his pod-induced sleep.

"What do we do with her?" Aden gestured toward Suriah with the butt of
his blaster. "We can't have her telling her people about this."

"I think she might need a refresher course," Kerra replied." Find an
empty one."





"This calls for a change in strategy," Aden said once they had left the
acceleration room. "It won't be long before that guard's relief finds
her, and she reports us."

"I never liked this disguise anyway."

"Neither did I, really," Aden admitted. "You really make an unconvincing
Alderian. Why did you embellish our cover story?"

"That guard might be an adult by her people's standards, but she's still
an adolescent girl. I figured the tragic romance of our situation might
arouse her sympathy."

"In that case maybe you should just have told her the truth."

"That we're here to pursue a vendetta against a hormonally deranged
madman, a known rapist we deliberately lured here? You mean that truth?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." They came to a turning in the
corridor. Pushing Kerra behind him, Aden peeked cautiously around. The
hallway was abandoned. "The first thing we need to do when we get out of
this complex is find some other clothes."

"I think we need to make a pact," said Kerra as they turned the corner.
"No more costumes. We never get to wear them very long."

"We'll save them for the bedroom." Aden grinned back at her. "I'll paint
myself green and pretend I'm Emarr."

"You'd look better in indigo," Kerra said.

"With snow white hair," Aden added. "You could be a lonely xenobiologist
and I could be an undiscovered species. What do you think?"

"I think Gandes has some competition for Pervert of the Year."

"And here I thought the award was going to Marelona Issari," said Aden.

"What did you do with that robe thing she made you wear?" Kerra inquired
wickedly.

Aden couldn't suppress a wince at the memory. "Kerra, don't even think
about it." He stopped, having located a door. He tried the handle.
Unlocked. Cautiously, he opened the door a crack and peeked inside. It
was as good a place as any to lose the ill-fated disguises.

Minutes later, Aden and Kerra had finished scrubbing the pigment from
their skin and applying the neutralizer to their hair, restoring them to
their original appearance. Clothes, however, were another matter.

The garments they had brought with them in their backpacks were in
keeping with their abandoned personas. Loose, shapeless one-piece
garments with hoods for Kerra, ostentatiously bejeweled tunics for Aden.
And more codpieces.

A quick rummage through the storage boxes stacked at the rear of the room
failed to turn up anything suitable. There was a case of utility
coveralls, but they were sized for children. All of them.

"They do grow up. I know they do," Aden growled as he tossed a balled-up
outfit back into the crate. "Do they make the adult staff go around
naked?"

"The adults wouldn't need replacement uniforms as often," Kerra pointed
out. "It's the children who'd keep growing out of them."

"That's not helpful, Doc."

"Check the very bottom," Kerra instructed. "I'm small. There might be
something close to my size."

Aden picked up the box and overturned it, spilling coveralls all over the
storage room floor.

"That's not what I meant," objected Kerra.

Aden ignored her. He picked up a garment off the top of the pile and held
it up against her. It was the largest size, probably intended for an
adolescent boy. The arms and legs would be a good fit, but the garment
was cut too narrow. She'd never get it on over her hips.

"We'll have to find something in the city. I just hope not too many
people notice us before then."

Kerra frowned at Aden's garish attire. "I don't know. You're pretty
conspicuous." Her gaze rested pointedly on his jutting codpiece.

Aden unstrapped the thing, gave it one last disgusted glance, and threw
it aside. Without it the tight suede trousers still hugged his loins,
leaving little to the imagination.

Kerra rummaged in her pack and found another ugly one-piece outfit like
the one she wore. It was a good thing the monstrosities were made loose.
Kerra glanced around for something to cut the fabric with and came up
with a small utility laser.

The hood was the first thing to go, followed by the sleeves. The legs she
excised carefully, slitting the crotch at the seam in order to save as
much fabric as possible, to make the thing a decent length and save Aden
some measure of dignity. The result was a nondescript, vestlike thing,
ragged at the cut edges. Kerra frowned at it.

"Maybe you'll start a new fashion trend?" Kerra suggested doubtfully.

"Maybe I'll be arrested for vagrancy," Aden countered. "Never mind. It'll
do." He stripped off his shirt and pulled the vest on. It wasn't as loose
on him as it would have been on Kerra, just loose enough for comfort. The
fabric felt soft and cool. This might not be so bad.

Kerra altered a second outfit for herself, removing hood and sleeves and
cutting it off at the waist. The bottom half she trimmed into shorts,
rolling the legs into cuffs. She used the laser to make a series of
evenly spaced holes in the waist, through which she threaded a thin strip
of fabric cut from another garment.

The result wasn't flattering. Even cinched close at the waist the shorts
hung like an old sack, and the vest was even worse. She looked like a
toddler playing dress-up in her big brother's clothes.

The muscles in Aden's face ached with the effort of trying not to laugh.
It was a losing battle.

"I'd like to see you do better," Kerra challenged, eyes flashing with
indignation.

He pulled a tunic out of his pack. "Give me the laser."

A short time later Aden looked down appreciatively at his handiwork. A
little too appreciatively, in Kerra's opinion.

Undeniably, he'd done a better job than she had, managing to produce
something that didn't look like it came out of a rag bag. However, it
didn't look like anything she'd wear given a choice, either.

He'd removed the epaulets from the bejeweled tunic and sliced off both
sides, leaving a front and back panel held together by laces made from
string they'd found. Even pulled as tight as Aden could manage, the laces
didn't bring the edges of the fabric together, but left a narrow strip of
exposed skin along her sides. This was bad enough, but the same thing had
been done to the suede pants as well - a necessary evil to get them over
the feminine curve of her hips, Aden had assured her.

This was how he really wanted her to dress, she suspected. Daring. Sexy.
More like Vaialora.

"You're enjoying this way too much," she accused.

"You have to admit," he said, "there's no way you could look less
Alderian."

She stuck out her tongue.





The Densharites' vaunted respect for history was evident in the
appearance and layout of the old Shian-ru mining city. The buildings
looked ancient, hundreds of years old, and the alien architectural
influence was undeniable. While Human builders tended to make everything
square, with the occasional circle to break up the monotony, the dominant
form here was a hexagon. It was there in the shapes of the buildings, in
the layout of the streets, even in the shape of windows and doors. It was
like walking inside a giant beehive.

It was as if nothing had been changed since the place was built. But
while oxidization had darkened the ancient metal and stone, the lines
remained crisp, details unblurred. Wind and rain hadn't worn the edges of
the buildings smooth or chipped away the ancient builders'
embellishments. In this controlled environment, the concept of weather
didn't exist.

Many of the buildings appeared abandoned, their bare windows displaying
empty, dust-filled rooms. There were few people out on the streets. Here
and there a child or two, once in a while a young couple, holding hands
and whispering. No one Kerra had seen so far looked any older than Aden.

Kerra had hoped they'd be able to hire a vehicle to take them to the
spaceport, but nothing of that sort was in evidence. Everyone they'd seen
was on foot.

"Ghost town," Kerra commented.

"Not quite, but it kind of has that feeling," Aden acknowledged. "I don't
think there'd be anyone left living here if it weren't for the contents
of that old hangar bay back there."

"Why don't they just move it elsewhere?" Kerra wondered. "I wouldn't want
to entrust the safety of my children tothat ." She pointed upward,
indicting the cracked dome above them.

"History, Doc," Aden answered. "I imagine they have a bigger, more modern
complex somewhere else. But this must have been the first one. They'll
keep it here as long as they possibly can."

A chill seized Kerra, and she shuddered, thinking of the little boy whose
capsule she'd touched, sleeping in blissful helplessness. If the dome
breached, he would die without ever knowing what was happening. It would
be a steep price to pay to preserve his people's history.

The Densharites were Human, or mostly so. But in some ways they were more
alien to her than the ancient race who had originally built this place.

Separating the empty quarter from the teeming chaos of the spaceport was
what passed for a park here, a bare mass of pavement broken here and
there by stunted-looking trees in pots, badly in need of water. The
closer Aden and Kerra drew to the spaceport side, the better-tended the
trees looked. There were even a few low troughs filled with
scraggly-looking flowers. A safety pad of soft, shiny synthetic protected
the base of a children's climbing apparatus, complete with actual
children, as Kerra and Aden reached the park's far side. A moment later
they were surrounded by people.

Aden twined his fingers with hers, pulling her close to his side. "Rule
one while we're here," he instructed. "We're together at all times. Don't
let me out of your sight for a second. We're not sure when Gandes will
arrive, and trust me, you don't want to be caught off guard. Not by him."

"You won't get any arguments from me."

Aden grinned at her. "That would be a refreshing change."

Kerra jabbed a sharp elbow into Aden's ribs. He winced, but his grin
didn't waver. "We're going to have to find some place to stay," she said.
"Also some clothes. I'm not wearing this get-up one second longer than
necessary."

"It looks good on you," Aden protested defensively.

"It's barelyon me at all," Kerra retorted. "I look ridiculous."

"You look sexy.I look ridiculous."

"I'd have to concur with that last part."

Kerra jumped at the sound of the cool, familiar voice coming out of the
crowd. She whirled, her hand still clasped in Aden's, wrenching her arm
painfully in the process.

"Hello, Telsier. Locke." The speaker pushed through the crowd, coming
toward them. A gaunt, almost skeletal figure, clad in black leather,
draped in enough weapons to outfit a small army. "I wasn't expecting to
find you here."

Kerra swallowed, staring at the newcomer. Aden's fingers tightened on
hers. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen...






CHAPTER 20
==========


"Yours was the last face I expected to see here," Aden said, once he,
Kerra, and Jannia Wise were alone in the privacy of a rented hotel room.
"This place isn't exactly on the main trade route."

"It's just a stopover. Vaia's clock was ticking." Jannia's discomfort at
the mention of her partner's needs was apparent on her scowling face.
"She went off with one of the Densharite transport pilots. I'm not sure
when she'll be back."

"You don't have any way of contacting her?" Kerra asked.

"Why would I want to?" Jannia demanded. "I keep my nose out of that part
of her life. The less I know about it, the better. She'll be back once
she's done."

"I'm surprised she'd leave you alone, even for this," Aden said. "Given
the situation."

"I'm not exactly a helpless kid anymore, Locke," Jannia informed him,
gesturing toward the arsenal she wore. "And there's just so long one
person can live in another's pocket. We haven't seen or heard a trace of
Gandes since we left Beckhaven, and believe me, we've been looking."

"You can't afford to get complacent, Jannia," Kerra protested. "You know
Gandes' condition. This obsession of his isn't going to go away on its
own."

"Telsier, do I look complacent?" Jannia demanded. "I'm wearing at least
three times my usual weapons, and looking over my shoulder has become
second nature. But I'm not going to let fear rule my life. I refuse to
give Gandes that much power over me. Not ever again."

"I'm glad to hear that," Aden told her. "Because he's coming here. I'm
not sure how soon."

Silence filled the room. It was a palpable force, like the building
electrical charge that heralded a lightning strike. The reflexive shock
and fear that had flashed across Jannia's face at the announcement faded,
replaced by a cold and terrible determination.

"Good," she said finally. Her tone was cold and flat and full of hate. "I
want to see his eyes when we take him down."





"Almost time," Gandes whispered to the still form slumbering in the
stasis pod. He caressed the smooth, transparent synthetic covering her
face. "You'll love the gift I'm going to give you. A man no woman can
resist, and he'll be all yours. I'm sorry about your mate, and your ship.
But he'll be worth it. You'll see. Even my Vaialora wanted him."





"You have to leave here," Aden insisted for the fourth time, barely
managing to restrain his frustration at Jannia's cold-eyed obstinacy.
"Gandes could arrive any time. It was never supposed to turn out this
way. You weren't supposed to actually be here!"

Jannia turned away from the hotel room window, where she'd stood watching
the crowd below. Her thin body was rigid with tension. Whether from fear
or anticipation Aden couldn't say, and wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"No, Locke," she said. "I'm not going anywhere. No more running. Gandes
hurt me, he left me for dead, he even managed to change who I was. How I
felt about - everything. But no more. He has no more power over me. I
won't give him any."

"It's her decision, Aden," Kerra said softly, passing Aden the drink
she'd poured him. Non-alcoholic...they all needed clear heads from here
on. "If anything, Jannia needs to face him even more than we do. It may
put some things to rest for her. Give her a chance to heal, finally."

"You don't heal, not from what Gandes did to me," Jannia corrected
bitterly. "This isn't about closure, it's about revenge."

"Kerra wants to take him alive," Aden said, watching Jannia's face to
gauge her response. "She thinks she might be able to cure what's wrong
with him."

"Then Kerra is a fool," Jannia spat. Her eyes were as cold as space
itself. "You can't cure evil. Gandes is a monster, and always was. Vaia's
what, maybe a quarter Kethrian? How powerful could these pheromone things
of hers be? That's just his excuse. He was always obsessed with her! From
the first day they met! Why else would he have forced her into that
situation in the first place?"

"I just don't think killing him is the only answer," Kerra defended, her
tone as quiet as Jann's was heated. "Why is it so easy for you to
contemplate taking another life? Surely that should always be the last
resort."

"He took my life," Jann said. From the deadness in her eyes Aden could
almost believe it.


"He damaged you," Kerra corrected. "Have you ever even tried to get help
yourself?"


"What kind of help, Telsier? Some kind of drug to balance out my
neurotransmitters, maybe hormone therapy to bring my sex drive back on
line? Things aren't that simple here in the real world."

"The real world. Right," Kerra scoffed. "Where killing those you don't
like isn't just a viable option, it's the only option. If that's the real
world, give me a delusion any day."

The two women's gazes locked, Jannia's as cold as space itself, Kerra's
burning like the fires at the heart of a newborn star. Aden held his
breath. Tension hung so thick in the air he could almost taste it. He
wanted to step between them - to protect whom, he couldn't have said. He
knew such interference would not be welcomed by either one.

It seemed an eternity before Jannia looked away.

"It won't be easy to take a man alive who's more than ready to kill you,"
she cautioned sullenly.

"So Aden keeps reminding me," Kerra said dryly. "Don't worry, I have no
intention of letting him kill me or anyone else."

"I have to get back to my ship," Jannia said. "Vaia may be back soon."
She fixed Aden with a cold, level stare. "Don't let her get you killed
while I'm gone, Locke." She set down her untouched drink and left the
room.

"I thought she liked me." Kerra's quiet voice broke the silence Jannia's
departure had left.

"She does. It doesn't show, though, does it?" Aden sipped his drink. "You
were right about one thing. Revenge won't help what's wrong with Jannia.
For the life of me, though, I don't know what will."

"I don't either," Kerra admitted softly.

"Well, it's nice to know you don't think you have all the answers." There
was a little more venom in Aden's voice than he'd intended. He didn't
know where the hell it came from.

"Not even close, Aden. Not even close." Her blue eyes looked gray and
desolate. "I don't like the way this is going, Aden. I have a bad feeling
about the whole thing. In her own way, Jannia may be almost as unstable
as Gandes is himself. She's a variable we can't control."

Aden rose and moved to where Kerra stood, putting his arms around her.
"We'll get through this alive somehow," he promised her, though he had no
idea how he could guarantee such a thing. "All of us."


"Will we?" Kerra asked, the words barely audible. "Will we, Aden?"
==================================================================


The question hung in the air between them, like a wall. Aden said
nothing, but only tightened his arms around her, holding her as though he
feared ever to let her go.





"Stay a little longer," Marjo coaxed, tugging on Vaialora's arm in an
attempt to draw her back into his embrace. "It's hours yet before I have
to lift off."

Vaia laughed indulgently and let the boy pull her back into his arms, if
only for a moment. She'd chosen well this time. Marjo was young, barely
nineteen. He had the stamina of a race horse, and the skill to go with
it. Vaia's body still tingled all over from the things he'd done to her,
and she hungered for more - the ache was already rising again. She would
need to find someone else, someone who could stay longer. A single night
with one man was barely enough to take the edge off.

Still, she had already left Jannia's side for longer than she planned.
The cold dread she'd pushed to the back of her mind welled up, fresh and
powerful, cooling her ardor. How long would she have to live in fear,
always looking over her shoulder, before Gandes made a move? Patience had
never been one of his virtues.

Marjo, seeming to sense the change in his lover's mood, released her with
a chaste kiss on the shoulder left bare by her dress. "You've really got
to go, don't you?"

"I am sorry, Marjo." She turned to face him. "I enjoyed our time
together."

"Maybe we can hook up again some time."

"I would like that." She looked at him warmly, fixing his face in her
mind. Sometimes she feared that they'd all run together in her memory,
that the faces, the voices, would be lost. That they would just become
anonymous bodies to her. She didn't want that. They deserved better.

Most of them, anyway. Certainly this one.

Marjo followed her out of the cabin and down the corridor, prolonging
contact as long as possible. She suspected he'd fallen in love with her,
or thought he had. It was as well that he had to leave, she thought
regretfully. Her romantic track record was an unmitigated mess.

"I could probably stay one more night," he offered hopefully as he opened
the hatch for her.

Vaia shook her head. "Never keep a client waiting, Marjo." She put her
arms around him, drawing him close for one last kiss.

Then she began to turn away.

Light flashed, hot and searing, from somewhere behind them.

Shock and fear shot across the boy's features. His mouth opened, to
speak, to cry out, but no sound came. No sound but the burst of blaster
fire that tore into his fit young body. He flew back like a broken doll.
Vaia saw the light leave his eyes as he died.

Only then did the pain hit. Searing, burning pain. The shot had grazed
her shoulder. Enraged, she whirled, her own blaster leaping to her hand.

Too slow. A second bolt knocked the blaster from her grip before she
could bring it to bear. Her hand stung from the impact.A clean shot ,
part of her mind said.Missed the fingers .

There was no point in going for her holdout. Her hand was now numb and
useless. Her eyes locked on Marjo's killer, glaring in impotent rage.
"That wasn't necessary, Gandes."

"I think it was." It was the same cool voice she remembered, suave and
calm. Slick, she'd always thought. Slick bordering on slimy. But there
was a fevered madness in his eyes that hadn't been there in the old days.
A madness she'd put there.

I'm sorry, Marjo.

"He had touched you," Gandes continued. He moved toward Vaia, his blaster
still trained on her, held in a grip surprisingly level for a man so
clearly close to the edge. "No one may touch you. Why would you settle
for a boy, Vaia? A woman with your needs requires a man."

"You never understood what my needs are," Vaia shot back. Gandes' stunner
had found its way into his left hand. She eyed it fearfully, gauging the
odds. If she charged him, could she take him down before he had time to
react? And how would he react? Which weapon?


Captivity or death?
===================



How would it affect him if he killed her?
=========================================


As long as she remained alive, Gandes' insanity had a focus. A purpose.
If she died at his hand, would he lose what lucidity remained? Would he
lash out randomly, raping and killing by whim, desperately searching for
a release that would never come? Could she risk unleashing a deadlier
monster than the one she had already created?

"No one else has to die, Vaia," Gandes prompted, gaze roving hungrily
over her body. "It's you I want. You know that. Come with me willingly,
and I'll forget about the others. They won't matter any more, not once I
have you in my arms again. You have my word."

"Your word," Vaia spat vengefully, "Is worth less than the paper it is
printed on."

"Suit yourself," Gandes growled, and stunned her.

"No, Vaia's not back yet," Jannia snapped without preamble. It was the
fourth time Kerra had called her, at Aden's increasingly impatient
prompting, in just over an hour. "I'm as worried as you are. No - more.
She's my partner! I'll call you the second I hear something. Now will you
please clear the line, and stay off it!" She severed the connection
without another word, leaving Kerra's mouth to snap shut, a reply caught
unspoken between her teeth.

"I can't believe Vaia didn't leave a code where she could be reached,"
Aden griped, straightening. He'd been leaning over Kerra's shoulder at
the console, looming like a vulture. "That's just common sense, even when
thereisn't a lunatic after you!"

"Jannia didn't even know the name of the man Vaia's with," Kerra agreed.
"You'd think people who'd been partners as long as they have would
communicate a little better. Especially in this situation."

"Jannia's always made it pretty clear she wants nothing to do with that
part of Vaia's life," Aden reminded Kerra. "But damn it, why couldn't
they have made an exception this once?"

"Jann was expecting her back hours ago. Something has to be wrong!" She
pounded her fist on the console in frustration, so hard that a bolt of
pain shot up her arm. "I can't stand just sitting here. We have to do
something!"

"Check the manifest again to see if a ship matching the codes Ayav gave
us has docked here yet," Aden instructed.

"I've already done that three times," Kerra protested. "It's not there.
Gandes might have switched ships again, or changed the codes. He might
have left his ship outside the dome. Like we did. Or something else might
have delayed Vaia. I find it hard to believe Gandes arrived so close on
our tails in the ship Ayav described, even if he got wind of our rumor
the second we started it."

"We have to find her," Aden asserted. "It's time we took a more active
approach. Call Jannia."





"From now on," Aden growled, "you get at least a ship name and berth
number every time she goes off with one of these guys. Even after we deal
with Gandes. There's plenty of other lunatics out there, Jann, not to
mention bounty hunters and stars know what else. Partners need to look
out for each other, no matter what one may think of the other's
lifestyle."

Jannia said nothing. From the blank expression on her face, Kerra
couldn't tell if her silence stemmed from resentment of Aden's
high-handed dictates, or simple worry for her partner.

Going from docking pad to docking pad wasn't the most efficient way to
find someone, but without any solid leads besides the general type of
ship, it was the best they could do. Thank heavens the hangar bay was
small, in keeping with the size and nature of the colony.

One complete sweep of the hangar bay to see if they could spot anything,
and then they were going to start hailing the ships one by one. It wasn't
what Kerra would call the most efficient of plans. If Vaia had been
taken, her captor was going to have one hell of a head start.

They had almost completed their sweep when they found him. Shoved far in
under the landing struts of a common light freighter, he was almost
invisible from the walkway. If Kerra hadn't picked that moment to stoop
and scrape something offensive off her boot, she would have walked right
by without ever noticing. Which had probably been the point.

Kerra drew a steadying breath. "Aden, Jann, I found something."

They halted and came back to where she crouched beside the freighter, and
peered under. "Poor bastard," Aden murmured, ducking under the ship to
pull the body out into the light.

The man had been young, possibly not even out of his teens. Attractive in
a scruffy kind of way, with dark wavy hair worn a little too short for
his face. His eyes, now glassy and staring, were a rich copper color,
indicating the presence of alien blood. Olaret probably, though his head
lacked the bony mid-skull ridge.

Mixed-race, Human dominant, and a little on the young side. A good bet to
have been Vaialora's Densharite lover. Kerra glanced at Jannia for
confirmation and saw the sickened recognition in her eyes.

"That's him," Jannia confirmed, voice cracking harshly.

Kerra swallowed, forcing sour-tasting bile back down her throat as she
knelt over what remained of the Densharite pilot. Blaster fire at close
range had cauterized the lethal chest wound. Fused and blackened, it
looked more like melted plastic than human flesh. Death had come
instantly. The expression on the man's face was one of stunned surprise.

"Can you tell me anything about him?" she asked.

"What difference would that make?" Jannia demanded. She stood far back
from the body and a good distance from Aden, who'd made the mistake of
trying to offer physical comfort. She held herself, arms clasped around
her middle, watching Kerra work without once looking directly at what she
worked on. "He was just some man she picked up."

"What I want to know," Aden asked grimly, "is how Gandes found her with
him. He couldn't have, unless - "

"Unless he followed her," Kerra finished. "Followed her and waited for
her to come out again. He's been here, even longer than we'd thought,
watching her. He might be watching us as well. Could have followed Jannia
right to us..."

"Who's setting a trap for whom?" Aden finished bleakly. "He got here
awful damn fast for someone following a rumor we didn't start to spread
until we were leaving Benakai."

"He may have been watching you even there," Jannia added. "Hoping you'd
lead him to Vaia and I. Which you did."

Aden cursed fluently. "So much for turning the tables on that bastard.
What the hell are we supposed to do now?"






CHAPTER 21
==========






"Check again," Aden prodded, leaning over Kerra's shoulder. He was
probably playing hell with her concentration, but he couldn't seem to
help it. "We know he's here. There's got to be some trace."

Kerra hit a key, blanking the screen. She swiveled around to face him,
irritation plain on her face. "There's nothing, and there's not going to
be anything. No ships registered to either Tral Gandes or Tamiana Liori.
No ships with a Benakai or Kethrian registry. Nothing. If they weren't
there before, they're not going to be there now." She ran her hands
through her hair in a vain attempt to straighten the wild tangle of
curls. "He could be gone again by now. After all, he has who he really
wants."

Aden shook his head. "He has who he wantsalive . He wants me dead almost
that much. I was Vaia's lover, Doc. The way Gandes see it, she left his
bed for mine. He's not just going to forget that. Or the way Jann and I
betrayed him to the authorities."

Kerra glanced over at Jannia, who stood staring out the window. She
hadn't moved from that spot since they brought her back here. If she'd
even heard what Aden said, she gave no indication.

Aden's gaze followed Kerra's. "You're worried about whether she can face
him. So am I."

"Shecan hear every word you're saying," Jannia interjected, her voice
sharp and cold. "Your lover's just afraid I'll take Gandes out and she
won't have the chance to try her little experiments."

"That's not true, Jann," Kerra protested. "Yes, I'd like a chance to try.
But if it comes down to him or us, I know what has to be done. He can't
be allowed to hurt anyone else."

"You think it's my fault he took Vaia," Jannia accused. "You both do."

"I don't think assigning blame is of any use here," Kerra answered.
"Gandes has Vaialora. That doesn't complicate matters that much further,
because I think he already had a hostage. Tamiana Liori."

Aden swallowed. "It makes sense. Who would have a better motive for
taking her? She disappeared from Benakai after we traced her ship there."

"Another Kethrian," Jannia spat. "Bloody wonderful."

"Full-blooded," Kerra added. "Possibly one of her mates as well, though I
don't see Gandes keeping another man around, if he was using Liori as a
Vaia-surrogate."

"That's not what he wants her for," Jannia predicted darkly. "Locke had
better watch his back. And other body parts."

Aden shuddered. "I don't imagine you know any tricks for provoking an
allergic reaction, Doc."

"Nose plugs," Kerra said succinctly.

Aden opened his mouth - then snapped it closed again.

"Just like a man to make things more complicated than they have to be,"
Kerra teased softly.

"We have to find Gandes first," Jannia reminded them. "Before he finds
us."

"Do we?" Aden asked.

Kerra and Jannia fixed incredulous gazes on Aden's face.

"If he's been following you, Jann," said Aden, "he's already found us,
and he's just looking for a good time to make a move. I suggest we give
it to him."

"What do you mean?" Kerra demanded, frowning.

"Look at his methods so far," Aden said. "Divide and attack. He took
Liori when she was away from her ship, while she had only one of her
mates with her. An old man. Vaia, same thing. Her Densharite was
half-dressed, unarmed, and probably distracted. Gandes isn't going to go
after us all together if he can help it. We've got to give him a clear
shot at one of us."

"Oh, yes, that's a brilliant plan," Jannia spat. "And just which one of
us are you planning to sacrifice?"





Tamiana stared at the monitor, studying the woman who had destroyed
Gandes. She'd been prepared to hate the callous creature. No decent
Kethrian would bond a man to her, and then simply leave him.

Vaialora Kondi sat on her narrow bed, knees hugged to her chest. She wore
nothing but the robe she'd had on when Gandes brought her in, and tears
flowed freely down her face. He hadn't taken her yet. Tamiana wondered
what he was waiting for. Then she realized, and wished she didn't know.

Gandes stood behind Tamiana. She could feel his male presence as a
tangible force, and her traitorous body craved his touch. She needed. By
the Three, how she needed! She'd fought the deprivation, had tried to
ease the rising tide of desire herself, but nothing helped.

Was this how it had been for him? Not just days, but years of longing,
aching for a release that never came.

"Not long now, my dear," Gandes said softly, almost kindly, laying an
hand on her shoulder. "There's no reason you can't keep him when you're
finished."

"Don't lie to me, Gandes," Tamiana spat. "You're not going to give him to
me. He wouldn't suffer as you have then, would he?"

"Perhaps I'm feeling magnanimous today." His voice oozed a dark and
sensual satisfaction.

"You could have left her some clothes," Tamiana chided.

"Be my guest, my dear." He nodded toward the screen. "It would please me
to let her see you. To know what I have in store for her precious Aden
Locke." He turned and walked toward the door, and Tamiana's gaze followed
him.

"Don't wait up for me, my dear," Gandes said as he left her.





"Are you sure that thing has enough range?" Aden demanded as Kerra made a
final examination of the tiny tracer unit she'd devised. That would be
all they needed. To send someone right into Gandes clutches and then lose
the trail because the bloody tracer wasn't strong enough.

"It's not powerful enough to transmit through hyperspace, but it should
work for our purposes - as long as Gandes hasn't taken Vaia offworld."
Kerra dug the heels of her hands into her tired eyes.

"If you can call this a world," Jannia sneered. "Gandes won't leave until
he has you, Locke. And don't forget the minor matter of the price on
Telsier's head. Revenge doesn't pay much. Gandes can't afford to pass up
that kind of money."


Kerra went ashen. "You've heard about that? How much am I worth?"
=================================================================


"Only about three hundred thousand credits. Fortunately, it's only valid
if you're alive and your brain isn't damaged." Jannia almost smiled.
"Though the fact you're still here tells me it's too late on that last
one."

"I'd say I'm better off with someone to watch my back," Kerra countered.
"Which brings up a question we haven't answered yet. Which of us gets to
be the bait?"

"Not Jannia," Aden said quickly.

His friend glared at him sharply.

"I'm sorry, Jann, but we have no way of knowing how you'll react when
you're face to face with him. Count yourself lucky we're including you in
this at all."

"Not you, either," Kerra said quickly, cutting off Jannia's angry retort.
"If he takes you, if he really does have Liori - "

"Nose plugs, remember?" Aden said lightly.

"Easy enough for Gandes to remove them once he has you," Kerra countered.
"I'm the logical choice, Aden. Gandes has good reasons not to harm me."

A jolt of pure terror flashed through Aden. Not Kerra. He couldn't allow
it. His Kerra, in the clutches of that lunatic -

"I don't like it, Doc," he managed to say with relative calmness. "You
don't know this guy. You don't know what he's capable of."

"I'm developing a pretty good idea," Kerra answered dryly.

"You don't have the experience," Aden argued. "What will you do if things
get ugly? We're talking about letting him capture you!" He closed his
eyes, trying to shut out the image in his mind, but only saw it that much
more clearly. Jannia, lying in a pool of her own blood, face and body
mutilated, barely alive - but it wasn't Jannia's face he saw. It was
Kerra's.

"I know what I'm talking about, Aden." Kerra's sharp words shattered the
disturbing vision. "Think of it as your opportunity to pay me back for
Kethry."

Aden cracked a mirthless smile. "Didn't know we were keeping score, Doc."

"And I didn't know we were back at square one again. We're supposed to be
partners now. In every sense of the word, remember?" Her tone was hard
and bitter.

"That doesn't mean I have to like sending you into danger," Aden
retorted. He drew a heavy, ragged breath. This wasn't right. He was
supposed to protect her, wasn't he? To keep her safe. She was his client,
his lover -

His partner. He'd told her that, and thought he'd meant it. But partners,
true partners, were responsible to and for each other.

It had to work both ways.

"You know I'm right, Aden," Kerra pressed.

Aden swore. "Of course you're right, damn you! Would it be any easier for
you if I were the one going?"

Slowly, Kerra shook her head.

"Then let's get it over with. Where are you going to wear that thing that
Gandes won't find it?"

"Under the skin."

He nodded sharply in approval. "Take off your shirt."





Tamiana hesitated outside the locked door, holding the bundle of clothing
against her.

How would this woman respond to her? Was she, by this act of mercy,
placing herself in danger?

Tamiana squared her shoulders, bracing herself. There was little point in
second-guessing a decision already made. She entered the access code and
keyed open the door.

As the panel slid aside, the woman inside jumped to her feet. Drawing up
to her full erect height, she faced the door with back straight and head
high, a defiant pose that would have been more convincing had she been
dressed.

Vaialora's expression changed as she saw Tamiana. Defiance turned to
wariness, then sympathy as she took in the telltale graying of Tamiana's
skin. "How long?" she asked without preamble.

"Three days. A little more. Enough that there's no going back." She tried
to keep the bitterness, the accusation, out of her voice. She didn't
think she'd succeeded.

"I'm sorry for that," Vaialora said. Her voice was soft and full of
regret. "That is the worst of it, I think - that he makes others pay for
my mistake."

"Was it a mistake?" Tamiana demanded with more venom than she'd intended.

"Of course! If I'd known I could bind a man to me that way, there were
much better choices available! And had I wanted him that badly, why would
I have left?" Vaialora's gaze bored into Tamiana, searing her to her
soul. "Made himself out to be the victim, has he? Did he even tell you
what he did to my partner?"

She had taken a step toward Tamiana as she spoke these words, but Tamiana
held her ground. "I can imagine," she said quietly.


"I doubt you can," Vaialora spat back. "What is your name, girl?"
=================================================================


"Tamiana Liori." She held out the bundle of clothing. "I brought these
for you."

"Did Gandes send you?" Vaia demanded. "Trying to play the gracious host?
Because I will not forget that I am a prisoner here."

"He gave me permission to come," Tamiana corrected, "though I would have
anyway. He wished you to see my condition. He wants you to understand
what his plans are."

Vaialora nodded, her skin going almost as gray as Tamiana's own. "Aden."

"I will not allow it to happen," Tamiana vowed. "I will die first. Those
are the only choices open to me now." She didn't even try to keep the
bitterness out of her voice. If this woman had only been strong enough to
make that decision herself!"

"I'm sorry," Vaialora whispered, reaching out a hand.

Tamiana stepped back, avoiding the touch. "Accident or not, you should
not have abandoned him."

"I deserve what happiness I could manage," Vaialora retorted. "Have you
any idea at all how it is for me? I have as much Tarenash blood as I do
Kethrian! Do you know the Tarenash, Tamiana? Each one is born a twin. One
male, one female. When they mate they only exchange one male complement
for another. Theyneed that one-to-one bond as surely as the Kethrians
need their harems, and those two drives have been at conflict in me all
of my life. I was raised in the Human way to try to mitigate that
conflict, but I am what I am, Tamiana. I have loved one man my entire
life, but my need for more than he could give me has kept us apart. I
have had to settle for hisfriendship !"

"Aden Locke?" Tamiana inquired softly.

Vaialora nodded. "He loves another, now. A woman I like and respect. She
could make him happy."

"I will not bond him to me," Tamiana swore. "I could never do that, not
having seen its effects."

"Tell me that again a day from now," Vaialora challenged. "We are what we
are, Tamiana, and you more so than I."

"I will leave you to dress," Tamiana said, ignoring Vaialora's
accusation. She threw the clothes down on the bed beside the older woman.
"Do not think to overpower me as I leave. Even if you were to escape this
room, there is no way out of the building. All of the windows are barred
and stun-rigged, and the door locks rigged to fire a blaster charge if
tampered with. A primitive form of security, but most effective." She
turned without another word and strode out, letting the door lock behind
her.





Sitting alone at a small table in one of the spaceport's two bars, Kerra
rubbed absently at the tracer implant imbedded under the skin of her left
shoulder. It itched. No, that wasn't a strong enough word. It felt like
there was an entire colony of ants crawling around under there, instead
of an inert little bundle of circuits.

Glancing around her, she let her hand drop back to her side. She had to
be careful. Couldn't let anyone notice there was anything amiss with her
shoulder. She imagined that having Gandes carve the thing out of her
would do a lot more than itch.

Kerra scanned the room as she sipped her drink. It was nothing like any
of the other taverns she'd visited during her travels with Aden. It was
cleaner, for one thing, and better lit, and it lacked that telltale whiff
of spilled liquor gone stale.

Then there was the clientele.

A good third of the patrons, possibly more, were children.

A small clique of preteen girls clustered around the bar, heads together,
deep in discussion. At the table beside hers, a trio of boys were engaged
in an animated debate on the relative merits of the latest hoverboard
designs.

It seemed wrong somehow. Kerra had to remind herself of the nature of
this colony. These "children" were legal adults, fully educated and
gainfully employed. Though it would be several years before most of them
would embark on their first adult relationships, any one of them could
legally marry now.

One of the girls at the bar excused herself from her companions and made
her way toward Kerra, a drink in each hand. One of the boys at the next
table called out a greeting, and Kerra froze at the sound of the girl's
name.

Suriah.

Kerra doubted she would have recognized the pod chamber guard if she
hadn't heard her name. Out of uniform now, Suriah wore her hair up in a
style that reminded Kerra of a cascading fountain, with a few strands
left to dangle down her back, threaded with crystal beads. An intricate
spiral design had been painted on her forehead in bright jewel tones, and
her left cheek sported a stylized butterfly.

Relax, Telsier, Kerra told herself, trying not to stare at the girl she'd
last seen stuffed into a too-small acceleration pod.You were in disguise
then. She won't recognize you as long as you don't draw attention to
yourself.

Suriah settled herself into an empty chair at the boys' table, so close
Kerra could have reached out and touched her. Kerra sipped at her fruit
drink and tried to look casual.

"Hey, Suriah, any leads on that Alderian couple?" one of the boys
inquired.

The girl growled under her breath. "Don't bring that up, Joric. It almost
cost me my job. If they'd harmed any of the children, it might have cost
me my head."

"I'll take that as a no," Joric said. "Do you think they had anything to
do with what happened this morning?"

"I'm behind on the news. Since getting stuffed into one of the pods I was
supposed to be guarding, I've been stuck on the night shift. All this
morning I was asleep."

"Liani Arahan's brother was found shot outside his ship. Word is it had
something to do with a woman he met here last night. A woman the port
authority can't even find. They traced her ship but it's abandoned.
They've got somebody watching it."

"Can't be the same woman," Suriah said with a shake of her head. "She
came in through the old shuttle bay entrance - P.A.'s searching the
surface for the ship she and her man came in on."

"Too many outsiders coming through here, if you ask me," another of the
boys said. "They talk to you like you're some kind of brainless baby, or
worse, some kind of freak. It was an outsider killed Marjo Arahan, you
can bet."

"Outsiders mean most of the people in the galaxy, Jacony," Suriah pointed
out. "We're the ones who are different, not them."

Kerra considered taking advantage of the debate to extricate herself
before Suriah noticed her. The children's discussion strayed too close to
familiar territory for her liking. She wanted the girl's mind as far from
the subject of outsiders, particularly this one, as it could get.

"That's what bothers them about us," the third boy was saying.

Kerra rose from her seat, careful to move so that her face was turned
away from the children. The longer she stayed...That was when she noticed
him. He stood at the bar, in the exact spot where Suriah and her friends
had been a few minutes before.

A tall man, even leaner than Jannia, with thinning reddish hair and
enough weapons to outfit a small strike force.

He raised his glass in a mocking salute, and mouthed her name.Doctor
Telsier, I presume?

Even from this distance she could see the coldness in his eyes. It seemed
to radiate outward from him, in waves, making Jannia Wise seem like the
very soul of warmth.

The children had noticed him, too. As Kerra stole a nervous glance in
their direction, Suriah turned in her seat, her gaze locked on the
newcomer. Distrust was plain on her smooth young face, and despite the
whimsical cosmetics, at this moment she looked like a security officer.

Just what I needed, Kerra thought as she picked up her drink and moved
toward Gandes, her free hand loose at her side. The single weapon she
wore at her hip seemed painfully inadequate now, and she wished she'd
kept her other hand free to go for her holdout. She had to remind herself
she intended to let him take her.

"I expected you to run the other way, Dr. Telsier," Gandes said as she
reached him. "Surely by this time Locke has told you his version of
events."

"In great, lurid detail," Kerra confirmed, fingering her glass. "It's
hard to believe, though, that anyone could be that much of a monster."

"The monster," Gandes replied conversationally, "is the woman who used me
and left me to suffer with a need that could never be eased. But I'll be
better soon." He actually smiled at her, with what she supposed was an
attempt at warmth. He didn't wear it well. "I'm surprised Locke left you
alone. Has that annoying chivalrous streak failed him after all these
years?"

She dipped her finger in her drink, brought it to her lips. "Maybe I'm
the one who left him."

"No, I don't think so." Gandes took the drink from her hand and set it on
the bar. "You don't do the seductress well, Dr. Telsier. You're far too
transparent. Could it be Locke actuallysent you here?"

Kerra shook her head. "I came on my own. Left Aden while he was sleeping.
He would never have let me come. He's convinced that killing you is the
only answer, and he's just waiting for the right opportunity." He gaze
strayed over to the children's table. Suriah was still watching them with
distrust. The girl began to rise, and one of the boys - Joric - laid a
staying hand on her arm.

"Is there somewhere more private we could talk?" Kerra asked, trying to
keep the fear out of her voice. If the girl made trouble for them, how
would Gandes respond?

I can't be responsible for his harming her. I've done enough to her
already.

"What are you afraid of, Doctor?" Gandes demanded. "What are you more
afraid of than you are of me?"

"Let's just say that that young lady over there is local security, and if
she recognizes me I'm in a lot of trouble."

"In trouble with local security, eh? My respect for you increases." The
contemptuous tone of Gandes' voice stole the sincerity from his words.
Kerra wondered whether his derision were for her or for the child.

"We stay here," Gandes informed her. "Her presence insures you'll do
nothing foolish."

I've already done something foolish by coming here."Please," she said.
"You'll want to hear what I have to say."

"I can hear it here," Gandes countered.

Kerra sighed. "Men. Everything always has to be your way."

Gandes laughed. "Trouble in Paradise, Doctor?"

Kerra glared at him. "You're presumptuous."

"Am I? It only stands to reason that you and Locke would become lovers.
All those long days and nights alone together on his ship, and you so
sheltered, so vulnerable. You had to ensure his protection, didn't you?
Tell me, Dr. Telsier, how long did it take you to seduce him?"

"I didnot seduce him for his protection!" Kerra hissed between her teeth.

"Ah, but you did seduce him." Gandes smiled knowingly. "The man has
astonishing luck with women. Have you met Merilee? Astriel? Darrisa?"

Kerra didn't rise to the bait. Aden hadn't loved those women. He loved
her. "I can help you, Gandes."

"Help me? Changing sides, Doctor? What has Aden done that would make you
consider that?" Eager speculation lit his cold eyes. "Wise has been seen
with you. She was in love with him, you know. Before I took her. Did you
catch them together, I wonder?"

Kerra couldn't help it. She laughed out loud. "Jannia Wise would bite off
the hand of any man who dared to touch her, as you well know! You're the
one who did that to her!"

Gandes smiled nastily. "So predictable, Doctor. So easy to bait. Tell me
what you have to say. I feel the need to return to my lovely captives. If
I am away too long they may begin conspiring against me."

"Then you do have Vaialora. And Tamiana Liori."

Gandes nodded confirmation. "Now tell me in what way you can help me."

Kerra glanced back toward Suriah. The girl had her back to them now.
"I've done some preliminary research. I think I might be able to reverse
your condition. Cure your dependence on Vaialora."

It was Gandes' turn to laugh. A bitter laugh, totally devoid of real
humor. "I've done my research,too, Doctor. There is only one cure for my
condition. I will happily take dependence on one woman's services over
castration, thank you."

Kerra shook her head. "You forget my background, Gandes. No one alive
knows the chemical makeup of the humanoid body better than I do. Given
time, I think I could really help you. But I can't do it if you and Aden
kill each other."

Gandes stroked his chin, considering. "You truly believe this. Whatever
else you may be lying about, on this matter you are completely sincere."

"I am," Kerra confirmed.

"You will come with me." Gandes rose, reaching for Kerra's hand. "We will
discuss this further. But if this is some sort of trick, Kerra Telsier,
you will beg me for death before I'm through with you."






CHAPTER 22
==========


"She's on the move," Jannia reported sharply.

Aden erupted from his seat and ripped the tracer monitor from her hands.
Finally! The frustration of waiting for something to happen had been
almost too much for him, even after he'd thrust the monitor into Jannia's
hands because he couldn't stand to stare at that blinking, stationary
blip any more.

"Took long enough," he barked.

"It's only been a couple of hours," Jannia reminded him. "She's headed
north, toward the abandoned quarter."

"I've got eyes, Jann," Aden retorted, as he watched the icon move slowly
but steadily toward the top of the screen. It still showed green,
indicating that all was well.

All well, like hell! How could all be well when Kerra was walking into
the lair of a psychopath? It was wrong, damn it. He should have stunned
her and gone in her place.

He shook off the thought. He'd probably never like sending Kerra into
danger, but she had the right to make her own choices. Even if those
choices put her in jeopardy. Or took her away from him.


"You coming, Locke?"
====================


Aden looked up. While he'd been standing there, staring at the screen,
she'd already strapped on her weapons and pulled a black leather duster
on over them.

"Yeah." H picked up his blaster from the table beside him. "Remember
we're to take Gandes alive if we can. But if it's a choice between him
andanyone else..."

Jannia nodded, but Aden could see the cold calculation on her face. He'd
have to watch her closely.

"There are four of us, counting Vaia. We don't know if Gandes has anyone
else working for him, or what control he has over Liori, if he has her.
If she's even still alive."

"He'll have kept her alive," Jannia predicted darkly. "For you."

Aden shuddered. The memory of his narrow escape from Marelona Issari was
a fresh, open wound. He would rather run naked through fire than risk
that again, but he would do that, and more, for Vaia and for Kerra.

She hadn't failed him on Kethry, and he wouldn't fail her now. He'd never
be able to forgive himself if he lost her this way.

"Let's go."





As Kerra followed Gandes into the unpopulated area of the city,
apprehension welled up within her like a black tide. It was too barren
here, too silent. There would be no one to hear her screams, or come to
her aid, if -

She forced the thought away. By now Aden and Jannia would be on their
way. She had to have faith. Even if Gandes didn't trust her offer, or
rejected her help, he wouldn't kill her. Not when her world's government
was so eager for her safe return.

A hard fist clenched around her heart at that thought. Death would be
preferable.

"Tell me more about this cure of yours." Gandes voice cut into the
oppressive silence surrounding them.

"I haven't exactly worked it out yet," Kerra admitted. "I'd have to study
your brain chemistry, compare it against that of a nor - that is, an
unaffected Human male. I'd need a sample of both the normal and the
altered pheromone, a biomedical computer, other volunteer subjects in
varying stages of exposure."

"Such a study could take years," Gandes said. "Even decades."

"I solved the problems inherent in neural biosynthesis in only ten
years," Kerra informed him. The claim sounded preposterous even to her
own ears. "This is just a simple chemical problem. Even if it takes years
to find a full cure, I could probably devise a treatment for the symptoms
fairly quickly."

Gandes smiled at this. "You have your own kind of arrogance, Dr. Telsier.
The Kethrians themselves have yet to devise an effective treatment."

"I believe that to be a cultural blind spot," Kerra said. "Why find a
cure for a simple biological fact? Have humans ever tried to find a cure
for female menstruation? This chemical bonding is part of who the
Kethrians are. They've even built religious rituals around it. It only
becomes a problem when it happens to an offworlder."

"And then they castrate the poor bastard," Gandes finished darkly. "You
would need Kethrian assistance for this research of yours. What makes you
think they will help you?"

"Because the research would also benefit Kethrians women who have to
leave the homeworld for long periods. Not to mention those poor young
girls who die every year. It would be a hard sell, but I could do it."

"We will see," said Gandes.

He led Kerra down a side street, past a group of buildings that looked
like warehouses, one of which had been gutted by fire and left to stand,
its windows smashed and blackened. It had a haunted look.

They moved further into the empty quarter, turning every few blocks,
sometimes doubling back on himself in a transparent attempt to confuse
her. She smiled grimly, holding each new turn, each new landmark in her
mind. She could use the information to devise a more direct course should
the opportunity arise.

At last they came to a stop in front of a narrow building, four stories
high, its windows barred with strong metal grilles, lights burning in
some of them. Kerra gazed up and saw a figure silhouetted against the
glass. A figure that seemed oddly misshapen, with some strange deformity
of the chest...

Kerra shuddered. A full-blooded Kethrian. Tamiana Liori.

The part of her that had still dared to hope Ayav's mistress had escaped
died a terrible, hopeless death.

Gandes followed the path of her gaze and smiled coldly. "Just a little
gift for your protector, Doctor. I wouldn't want him to get lonely once I
sell you back to your homeworld's government."

"But - " Kerra's protest broke off abruptly at the sight of the blaster
aimed squarely between her eyes.

"Your offer's an interesting one, Dr.Telsier, but why would I waste years
in a possibly futile quest for a cure when I already have what I need?
You're far more valuable to me for the price on your head, my dear." He
leaned forward to pat at her body with lewd intimacy, finding her blaster
within seconds. Her holdout took only a few moments longer.

He glanced at the little gun and threw it and her blaster contemptuously
into the street. He gestured with his blaster toward the building's entry.

Kerra looked longingly past him at the weapons lying only a few meters
out of reach. Part of her was tempted to go for them, though she knew it
would mean her death. Better that than to be taken back.

But there were other lives to be considered.

She preceded Gandes into the building.

It had been a residence - a townhouse - and from the looks of it it
hadn't been renovated in a century. The walls were painted in metallic
pastels, which would have been a pretty effect if not dulled by decades
of neglect. Squares of brighter color showed on the walls where pictures
had once hung, and as they passed the kitchen, Kerra could see an ancient
meal processor fresh out of a historical holovid.

The figure from the upstairs window waited for them at the top of the
stairs. Horror and pity warred within Kerra at the sight of her.

She was younger than Kerra, and slim, lacking the heavy musculature of
most Kethrians Kerra had seen. Her hair was a rich, dark chestnut with
fiery highlights, and her eyes were the color of amethysts.

Her skin should have been a rich dark ebony, with a sheen as though it
had been polished. Instead it had dulled and grayed, aging her young
face. There was a mad, desperate craving in her eyes as they settled on
Gandes.

"Hello, Tamiana," Kerra said. "Ayav sends his love."

A choked sob escaped the other woman's lips. "Is he all right?"

"He misses you," Kerra told her. "But he's fine."

The Kethrian closed her eyes and breathed a few words in her own
language, words that sounded like a prayer of gratitude.

Gandes turned back from the door, and only then did Kerra realize he'd
activated the locking mechanism while her attention was distracted. She'd
lost her chance to see what code he entered.Awfully stupid for a genius,
aren't you, Kerra? she cursed herself.

"Has my Vaia been behaving herself in my absence, my dear?" Gandes asked.

"I believe I have convinced her of the futility of escape, if that is
what you mean," Liori spat back bitterly. "Adding another one to your
collection, Gandes?"

"I'm sorry," Gandes said with what almost sounded like genuine chagrin.
"Where are my manners. Tamiana, this is Dr. Kerra Telsier, a gifted
scientist who's expressed an interest in our situation. Dr. Telsier, this
is Captain Tamiana Liori an...associate...of mine." His gaze moved lewdly
over Tamiana's body as he spoke, and she swallowed convulsively, fear,
revulsion, and desire at war on her ravaged face.

Kerra nodded warily at Tamiana, wondering how strong a hold Gandes had
over the girl. He'd been her only potential sexual outlet for several
weeks. Had some sort of bond been forged between them? Could Kerra afford
to trust her?

"Be a good girl and show Dr. Telsier to one of the guest rooms." The way
Gandes said "guest rooms" made Kerra's hair stand on end. Tamiana only
nodded and gestured for Kerra to follow her.

"I want to see Vaialora," Kerra demanded softly as they ascended the
second flight of stairs.

Tamiana shook her head. "Gandes has cameras placed in all the guest rooms
- he'd know at once. It's an old flat-vid system he acquired shortly
after his escape from prison. It's primitive, but does its job very
well." She stopped, regarding Kerra. There was a deadness in her amethyst
eyes that froze Kerra's heart in her breast. "There are four cameras in
the room he's reserved for Aden Locke. He wants multiple angles, you see,
so as not to miss anything when he locks us in together."

Kerra's gut clenched painfully at the image Tamiana's words evoked. It
wouldn't happen. It couldn't. She wouldn't let it.

"There are three of us," Kerra told Tamiana. "There's only one of him.
Are you that afraid of one man? If we could make him give us the door
codes - "

Wordlessly Tamiana turned away and continued up the stairs.

Kerra stared at the younger woman's back. Did she even realize she'd
exposed herself to possible attack? She was bigger than Kerra, more
muscular, but how much had her condition weakened her? If Kerra struck
now, if she knocked Tamiana off balance and down the stairs -

Stars, I'm starting to think like Aden and Jann! There's got to be a way
out of this without resorting to violence against a woman who's as much a
prisoner here as Vaia is.

I wonder if that's what she wants to happen. She's too far gone, now. If
she doesn't have a man soon she'll die. If she does...

Kerra closed her eyes, compassion for the woman clenching at her heart
like a fist. It was one hell of a choice.

The so-called "guest suites" were on the fourth floor, high enough that
even if a window could be breached, escaping that way would be suicide.
Six doors, three on either side of a long, narrow corridor, boasted
old-fashioned keypad locks, the kind Kerra could have disabled easily if
she'd had her little anti-security device. The indicator lights on two of
them showed red. Locked.


"Why two?" Kerra demanded. "Who is he holding here besides Vaialora?"
=====================================================================


"The second locked room contains the cargo Gandes brought here from
Benakai," Tamiana answered. "I do not know its nature. There is no camera
installed in that room." She opened the door to the last room on the
right and ushered Kerra inside. "The camera for this room is set into
that wall," she said, pointing to their right. "It does not cover the
adjacent corners, if that is of any use to you. The door to your left
leads to the sanitory. You will find nothing there that can be used as a
weapon. You were unwise to come here, Dr. Telsier."

"I'm beginning to agree with you." Kerra said, looking at the room's
single piece of furniture, a narrow, hard-looking bed without any form of
covering. "This isn't over, Captain Liori. My friends will come. They'll
get us out of here."

"I hope for your friends' sake that they don't come," Tamiana said
bitterly. She stepped outside, rested her hand on the doorframe beside
the keypad. "I have to go. I do not want Gandes to think we have been
conspiring against him."

"Stars forbid," Kerra muttered, but Tamiana didn't hear her. The Kethrian
had already left, sealing the door behind her.

Kerra breathed a heavy sigh and slumped against the left-hand wall, near
the corner, letting her body slide bonelessly to the floor, her legs
stretching out before her. Reaching a finger inside her shirt collar, she
found the telltale itch on her shoulder and pinched.





"There's the signal," Jannia reported. "From the coordinates it looks
like she's deep into the empty quarter."

"Status?" Aden demanded. He wished he'd never given the tracking device
back to her.

"It's still showing all's-well."

Aden didn't like the skepticism in Jannia's voice. "Even if he plans to
harm her, he'll wait until he has everyone. It doesn't make sense to kill
your bait, Wise."

"He has bait," Jannia reminded him. "He has Vaia. Telsier's redundant."

"Not to me, she's not," Aden contradicted, the warning plain in his voice.

"I like her, too," Jannia said, "but we've got to be realistic. We might
not be able to get Gandes without sacrificing someone else. And it's just
as likely to be Telsier as anyone."

Aden shook his head, rejecting the thought. Nothing was going to happen
to Kerra. He wouldn't allow it.

He might already have allowed it, he realized. She was in Gandes'
clutches, and even if he hadn't harmed her yet, who knew what he might
still do? Aden wasn't stupid enough to think that Gandes' forced reunion
with his lost partner would be enough to cure him of seven years' worth
of growing hate, of growing insanity.

"If he hurts her in any way he's going to die - slowly, painfully, and
unpleasantly," Aden swore aloud. "No matter what Kerra has to say about
it." He took the tracker from Jannia's hands. "Let's go find them."





If there was one thing Kerra detested more than anything else in the
universe, it was the sensation of being watched. She'd tried to ignore
the camera set into the "guest room" wall. She really had. It was so
small, barely visible really. Just a pinprick. She wouldn't have noticed
it at all if Tamiana hadn't pointed out its location.

It might as well have filled the entire wall.

Twice already she'd retreated to the corner, out of range, but the
feeling of having to hide was almost as bad. Restlessness welled up
within her, a building energy that threatened to burst free and consume
her. Damn it, she hated this sense of helplessness!

Rising from the bed, she began to pace frenetically, but stopped within
moments. She wouldn't give Gandes the satisfaction of seeing how her
incarceration affected her. Aden would come soon. He was already on his
way. He would rescue her, rescue Vaia and Tamiana, and then...


Stars. Tamiana. What in the Heavens' name were they going to do abouther ?
==========================================================================


First things first, Kerra. You can't do anything about her until you get
out of this damned cell.

Kerra scowled balefully at that tiny, shining speck on the wall. It's
very presence mocked her. She felt like giving it one good kick.

With her luck the lens would be shatterproof, and all she'd do was give
Gandes something to laugh at.

Kerra strode to the other side of the room and smacked the controls for
the sanitory door with the side of her hand. At least here was one refuge
in this damned prison - or could she assume that? Tamiana had said
nothing one way or another, only that she'd find nothing in the sanitory
to aid her escape. She wouldn't put it past that perverted slimeball,
Gandes, to put cameras in the sanitory.

Kerra entered the small, closetlike chamber and closed the door behind
her. Leaning her back against the door, she looked around her. The room
was probably original to the house, and was barely eligible to be called
a sanitory at all. The shower was a simple metal-and-acrylic enclosure
with only two jets, positioned overhead and at torso level, and the hand
sanitizer was an old chemical-spray model. And as for the waste
processor...

Kerra shuddered.

There was a second door set into room's opposite wall, but its control
panel had been removed and a solid metal plate riveted over the space
where it had been.

Kerra's thorough inspection of the room failed to yield any evidence of a
camera, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. Sanctuary.

She forced herself to make use of the archaic waste processor and to
sanitize her face and hands. Thus refreshed, if it could be called that,
she turned her attention to the sealed door.

She wasn't expecting to be able to get it open, not really. The rivets
holding the cover plate in place looked pretty solid. But she couldn't
just sit here. If she did she'd wind up going crazier than Gandes.

The door was white enameled metal, and sounded solid when she knocked on
it. An ordinary sliding pocket door, built right into the wall, probably
seated in a good two inches on each side.

Kerra shook her head in frustration. Why was she even bothering? Even if
she could get through, the only thing on the other side was another
locked room, this one full of Gandes' mysterious cargo.

Why had he hidden that cargo from Tamiana? Why should he care if his
prisoner knew what he was keeping in there?

Kerra stared at the door. An old rhyme from her childhood echoed in her
head.Can't go over it, can't go under it, gotta go...

"Can't go through it either," Kerra grumbled. What did that leave?

Around it.

A lot of use that was. The only way around it was through the wall.

Kerra ran her hand along the wall's surface. It felt cool and smooth, but
not metallic, and no synthetic she was familiar with. She laid her ear
against the wall adjacent to the door and knocked softly. It was solid.
She did the same on the other side.

Hollow. She'd found the side the door slid into.

She tried an experimental kick, but the wall didn't give. She lay down on
the floor and kicked as hard as she could with both feet. The impact sent
a shock of pain running up both legs, but that was all the effect it had.
Whatever obsolete material the wall was made from, it wasn't quite
primitive enough. She let her head fall back against the cold tile floor,
and stared up at the ceiling.

In the holovids there was always a way out, always something the villain
had overlooked. But as people kept pointing out to her, real life seldom
bore any resemblance to aJilla Silverstar episode.

With a howl of frustration, she leaped to her feet and kicked the door as
hard as she could.

The door screamed.

Kerra stared at it, sure that the screech of straining machinery had to
be her imagination. Sure enough, the door hadn't moved, not one single
centimeter.


But she had heard it. Hadn't she?
=================================


She kicked the door again. There was a groaning, grinding rasp, and Kerra
held her breath. Slowly, very slowly, the door began to slide open. One
centimeter. Two -

The movement ground to a stop. The door stood open barely a hand's
breadth, not nearly far enough for Kerra to squeeze through. She kicked
it again, and again, but nothing further happened.

The room beyond was dark. Kerra could make out the shape of some sort of
boxes or containers piled against the far wall, as well as a soft glow
emanating from a part of the room just beyond what Kerra could see.

Kerra wedged her body as far into the opening as she could and pushed
with all the strength she had. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly,
centimeter by centimeter, the door gave way, and Kerra slipped through.

Kerra reached for the control to turn on the light and found none.
Blinking, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.

The vague shapes she'd seen through the partly-open door took solid shape
now. They were rectangular capsules with rounded edges, perhaps seven
feet long, apparently made from the same metallic-synthetic aggregate as
the Densharites' acceleration pods. There were seven in all, five of them
stacked in two neat piles. The other two, set side-by-side a little apart
from the rest, were the source of the light she had seen. A small control
panel set into the side of each one glowed softly, its indicator lights
showing the traditional green, indicating that all was well with whatever
lay inside.

Stasis pods.

Human-sized stasis pods.

Slowly, Kerra approached them, her heart pulsing inside her like a
starship engine. She laid her hand on the nearest one, bending close to
peer inside the transparent cover. The temporal barrier protecting the
pod's occupant shimmered like a heat wave, partially obscuring the
being's features, but not his unique coloring.

Emarr Dengas.






CHAPTER 23
==========


"These are the coordinates," Aden said, glancing around him. "Not much
here, is there?" He scanned the rows of abandoned-looking townhouses,
each very much like the next. "Wait - look over there."

Jannia's gaze followed where Aden pointed. "Why would an abandoned house
need bars on the windows?"

"Just what I was thinking." He started down the street toward the house.

"What are you planning to do," Jannia sneered. "Go up and knock on the
door? 'Pardon me, but does a psychotic rapist live here?'"

"I'm planning to get a closer look at the house," Aden snapped. "Is that
all right with you?"

"Hey, you don't have to bite my head off!" Jannia said.

"And you don't have to make some snide comment about everything I do. If
you have nothing helpful to say - "

"Look." Jannia pointed at something lying in the street.

Aden walked over to where she indicated and went down on one knee. He
took the discarded blaster in his hands, cradling it like a child. "This
is Kerra's weapon."

Jannia moved to his side and bent to pick up the little holdout gun. "You
didn't really expect Gandes to leave her these?"

"I'd hoped he might have been tempted enough by her offer..."

"You're not normally this naive, Locke." Jannia tossed the holdout in her
hand. "This was a bad idea. He has her now, and there's only two of us
left."

"Don't count Kerra out yet." Aden got to his feet. "Let's get this over
with, old friend."





"You never even made it off Benakai, did you?" Kerra asked softly, her
fingers brushing the stasis pod's surface. Within, Emarr slept silently,
unable to hear or answer her. "We were right. He was watching us there."
She rose and moved over to the other pod, though she was already sure of
what she'd find there.

Dark-skinned, red-haired, and small, his features blurred by the stasis
field, Ayav Liori slept dreamlessly, trapped in a single moment of time.
Tears of rage welled in Kerra's eyes. What dark pleasure did Gandes take
at keeping them here, watching Tamiana suffer while her own mate lay just
meters away?

"Insurance," Kerra realized. "If Aden slips through his fingers here,
he'll need a way to keep Tamiana alive. If he putsher back in stasis in
her present condition, the shock might kill her."

She studied the controls. Carrying living cargo in stasis was tricky
business, and she wasn't familiar with this type of pod. If she made a
mistake -

Well, she'd just have to avoid making any mistakes. Chewing nervously on
her lower lip, Kerra tapped the controls in what she desperately hoped
was the proper sequence.

The stasis field surrounding Ayav shimmered and shifted, then slowly
began to fade. Kerra watched holding her breath, waiting for some sign of
movement to show she hadn't killed him.

The boy's eyes popped open.

"Hello, Ayav," Kerra said.

He turned his head to look at her. "Is Tami here?"

Kerra nodded, warmth welling up within her at the depths of his loyalty.
To ask for her, before he'd even thought to ask where he was...

"Where? I want to see her."

Kerra shook her head. "Not yet." She moved back to Emarr's pod, activated
the restoration cycle.

Ayav sat up, with none of the stiffness one might expect from someone
who's lain immobile for weeks. From his perspective, it would have been
only minutes. He looked over at the pod beside him. "Emarr Dengas? I saw
him fall. I thought he'd been killed."

Kerra shook her head. "I don't think Gandes would waste his time
smuggling a dead man." Kerra watched as the stasis field around her
friend dissipated, but he remained as immobile as if she'd done nothing.
She touched his throat, feeling for a pulse, and found it. It beat slow
and steady beneath her fingers.

"Stunray or needle gun," Kerra surmised. "The effects hadn't worn off yet
when he was put in." She rocked back on her heels. "No way of telling how
long before he comes around."

"Where are we?" Ayav finally asked.

"In a locked room in an abandoned section of Advarra City."

Ayav seemed to deflate. "This is not a rescue, then."

"Others are coming." Kerra rose to her feet and began to pace. "I don't
know how long we have before someone comes back, or who it will be. We're
probably all right if it's Tamiana..."

An eager light filled Ayav's eyes at the mention of his mistress' name.

"She didn't look good when I saw her," Kerra warned. "Deprivation
sickness?" Ayav asked.

Kerra nodded.

"She will be well again soon," Ayav vowed. "I will not mind the bonding.
I am already hers."

"I hope she appreciates your devotion, Ayav," Kerra said.

"She does," he replied smugly. The macho stance didn't suit him.

The scraping hiss of a door sliding open startled Kerra. She whirled, but
the door to this chamber was still shut. "Stay here," she whispered,
squeezing through the door back to the sanitory. She returned to her
room, closing the door quickly behind her.

Gandes was sitting on the bed. "Your friends are outside," he told her.
"The cameras picked them up just moments ago."

"I would have thought you'd be too busy raping Vaialora to notice," Kerra
spat.

Gandes looked pained. "Really, Dr. Telsier. I haven't raped anyone. I'm
saving that for later." He offered her his hand.

Kerra ignored it. "I didn't come here to be used as a hostage." She
folded her arms over her breasts. "I stay here."

A low chuckle escaped Gandes' lips. "I suppose this is the part where I
confess to admiring your spirit. I'm afraid I can't oblige you. A worm
that climbs onto the hook of its own accord can hardly expect praise from
the fish."

"I told you why I came here," Kerra protested.

"Of course." Gandes' dark, sunken eyes mocked her. "You only want to help
me." He drew a blaster and aimed it squarely between her eyes. "I'd hate
to have to tell your government I had to burn a hole through that
remarkable brain of yours."

"I'm worth nothing to you dead, Gandes," Kerra challenged.

"I saw you and Locke together on Benakai," Gandes countered. "Your death
would hurt him. Are you so certain my hatred isn't stronger than my
greed?" He gestured with the blaster. "Don't test me, Dr. Telsier."

Kerra met Gandes' gaze over the blaster's barrel. Met, and held. He never
wavered, never flinched or blinked, as her stare bored into his. The
coldness was gone from his eyes now. They burned. Burned with madness,
and lust, and hate. Behind that, nothing. And Kerra knew, with chilling
certainty, that these were the only emotions the man had left.

A coldness beyond anything Kerra had ever felt clutched at her heart, at
her gut. In that instant, she let go of any hope she might ever have had
that this man could be helped.

She was looking at a man whose soul had died.

Kerra swallowed hard, but the bitter taste in her mouth would not go away.

She looked away.

"Coming?" Gandes prompted.

Kerra preceded him out of the room.





"You're not planning to go in the front door!" Jannia protested, racing
after Aden. He stalked toward the house without a backward look, Kerra's
blaster clutched in his hand. He'd made no move to draw his own. Hers
felt right in his hand. It was a link, a connection, as though it were
her hand he held, and not some cold piece of metal.

She'd probably be aghast at the analogy.

Jannia caught up with him as he mounted the steps. She grabbed his arm,
gaunt, sticklike fingers digging into his arm with desperate strength.
"He's expecting us, you idiot! You want to walk straight into a trap?"

"We're walking into a trap no matter what we do," Aden retorted. "I'm not
wasting time finding some tiny basement window to squeeze through while
Gandes does whatever the hell he wants to Kerra and Vaia."

"I thought when I came here with you that you actually had a plan!"
Jannia jerked Aden around to face her. "Don't you remember what he did to
me?"

"Better than you could possibly know," Aden answered grimly. He tried to
jerk his arm out of Jannia's grip but she was stronger than she looked.

His gaze locked with hers. "If you're too afraid to see this through,
leave now."

Jannia jerked back as if stung, but she let his arm go.

"Stand back, Jann." Aden raised Kerra's blaster and shot a big, smoking
hole in the door controls. With a grinding rasp, the panel slid aside.
Aden burst through, blaster at ready, with Jannia close at his heels.

The hallway was empty and silent.

"Maybe he wasn't expecting us after all?" Jannia said, not sounding like
she believed it.

Aden's eyes scanned the corridor, taking in the pastel walls, the steep,
narrow staircase. It was a moment before he spotted the camera, dark,
shiny speck that had at first appeared nothing more than a small
imperfection in the wall.

"He's expecting somebody." Aden gestured toward the camera. "He can't
have had a lot of time to set this up." Even as he spoke the words,
phantom spiders with feet of ice crawled up and down his spine.Time...

Aden shook off the thought. Kerra hadn't been able to make the temporal
levels of hyperspace work for her, and Gandes' mind wasn't even in her
league.

They found no one on the first level, though the food-prep unit in the
kitchen was warm to the touch. Returning to the corridor, Aden eyed the
staircase with profound distrust. Visions of Marelona Issari's estate on
Kethry flashed before his eyes.

Kethry. Trapped in an upstairs chamber, his own male flesh betraying him.
His loins tightened at the memory. Tightened, and stirred.

His pulse raced, his breathing quickened. A powerful, carnal hunger
welled up unbidden within him, stronger than he remembered it. He had
taken three steps toward the stairs before his brain knew his feet were
moving.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to be still, though his muscles
trembled with the effort.

"Aden?" Genuine, heart-stopping concern stole the coldness from Jannia's
voice.

"Liori," Aden ground out through teeth clenched so hard his jaws ached
with the pressure. "He does have her."

"How bad is it?" Was that compassion he heard in her voice? Or was it
fear? "I thought the nose plugs were supposed to block the effect."

"I forgot the damned things!" Aden's clenched fists throbbed where the
nails cut into his flesh.


"Locke?" Jannia prompted again. "How bad?"
==========================================


"It's bad enough." The words didn't begin to describe it. He wanted to
charge up those stairs, to find the source of the urge that was clawing
at his insides and throw her down on the nearest flat surface. He wanted
to pound himself into her, hard, fast, deep, until she screamed and
sobbed and begged him never to stop. And he didn't care who the hell she
was or what having her would do to him. He needed, and all else be damned!

"Think about Kerra." Jannia's stern cold voice cut through the veil of
Aden's desire like a dagger of ice. "It's her you love. It's her you
want. It's her you have to get to."

"You don't understand," Aden rasped. "You don't feel what I'm feeling.
Not ever. It isn't real to you!"

"It used to be," her voice was hoarse and urgent. "I've wanted. I've even
loved. I loved you, Locke. I won't see you destroyed this way!"

Aden whirled, staring at her. The heated vehemence of her words stunned
him almost as much as their content.

"Fight it, damn you!" Jannia hissed. "You've done it before."

Right. With the help of an ungodly stench and a convenient allergy. He
gritted his teeth and looked back toward the stairway.

She stood on the stairs, a beautiful dark angel with hair like living
fire and eyes like the heart of a star. His eyes met hers, and it felt
like coming home. She was his sun, his moon, his perfect lover. There was
no one else, and never would be. He would make her his, and they would be
together forever.

Aden closed his eyes, and ground his teeth into his lower lip until blood
flowed. He tried to call up the image of Kerra's face, but it was hard,
so hard.

All he could see were her eyes. So blue. So beautiful.

And her hair. Those magnificent curls, shining like a homeworld sun.

And her lips. Lips moist and bruised from his kisses. Lips parted in a
crooked smile, or pressed together in a frown of concentration as she
bent over her datapad.

Aden opened his eyes.

His exquisite Kethrian goddess was a haggard, colorless waif with no hope
left in her eyes. And still his body wanted her.

Kerra stood behind her, at the top of the stairs, and Gandes was with
her, holding her to him with an arm around her chest and a large,
high-yield blaster pressed to her throat. Aden's gut twisted bitterly.

"What are you waiting for, my dear?" Gandes demanded, glaring
malevolently at Liori's back. "Go to him. He'd be yours by now if you
hadn't hesitated."

Liori shot a frantic, desperate glance back toward Kerra. Kerra swallowed
convulsively. Liori turned back and took a single step forward, then
another.

It was all Aden could do to hold his ground.

He sensed movement behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jannia
raise her blaster. Liori's eyes went wide, then she nodded.

Kerra twisted in Gandes grip. "No!" she screamed, shoving at the arm
around her neck. Gandes hauled her more tightly against him and dug the
blaster hard into her flesh.

Jannia fired, but Kerra's cry had thrown off her aim. The blaster bolt
went awry, shattering the banister rail just inches from Liori's hand.

The Kethrian jerked back and lost her footing. She toppled, clutching
frantically at a railing that was no longer there. The weakened banister
shattered under her weight. She fell, hitting the hard tile floor with a
sick thud. She didn't get up.

Kerra struggled against Gandes' grip, screaming the Kethrian's name like
she'd lost her best friend.

Gandes kicked her viciously. "Shut up, woman, or I'll decide the bounty
on your head isn't worth it." His gaze met Aden's. "Go to the Kethrian
and make sure she's alive."

"Go to hell," Aden retorted. "I'm not going near her."

"Go to the Kethrian or Telsier dies," Gandes commanded, digging the
blaster barrel into Kerra's throat so hard she gagged.

Rage burned in Aden's heart as he watched Kerra struggle for breath. He
should never have allowed her to come here. Should have known it would
turn out this way. If she died, it would be he, as much as Gandes, who
had killed her.

"Kill Telsier and you'll be dead two seconds later," Jannia challenged.
"I believe this is what they call a standoff."

Aden shook his head. "No one dies." He went to Liori's side and laid a
gentle hand on her throat. Her closeness affected him, and he let his
hand linger a moment longer than was needed to determine that she lived.
She stirred beneath his fingers, and murmured a name.

Ayav.

A chill rippled through Aden's body. Kerra's promise. It didn't look like
she'd ever be able to keep it now.

He looked up at her. She had gone very still in Gandes' arms, and there
was something in her eyes that he didn't understand.

Then he saw it. A shadow on the landing behind her.

Gandes froze as he saw the direction of Aden's gaze. Then he started to
turn -

The small, dark figure plowed out of the shadows with an inarticulate
roar of rage and loss, throwing itself at Gandes with the force of a
torpedo. He whirled, jerking Kerra with him, as the Kethrian barreled
into him. His blaster roared and flashed, and Kerra fell in a boneless
sprawl across the landing.






CHAPTER 24
==========



Kerra!
======


Aden tried to scream her name, but it froze in his throat. He charged the
stairs, desperate to reach her side.

On the landing, Gandes and the Kethrian boy grappled for the blaster. The
boy's fingers dug desperately into the flesh of Gandes' wrists, but the
older man twisted in his grip, throwing him off. The boy fell onto Kerra
in a tangle of arms and legs.

Gandes leveled the blaster at the sprawled forms, a sneer of hate
twisting his gaunt features. With a desperate lunge, Aden slammed into
his back. The shot went wild, taking out a chunk of wall, as Gandes went
down under Aden's greater weight.

Gandes brought the blaster up. Aden wrapped his fingers around Gandes
wrists, and dug in with all his strength, forcing the weapon back. But
Gandes was stronger than he looked.

Hate and madness burned in Gandes' eyes. His thin arms were like pure,
unyielding steel under Aden's hands. He had the strength of desperation,
of insanity, of pure, unbridled loathing.

A few feet away Kerra moaned, and stirred.

Aden rolled and twisted, throwing Gandes aside, blaster and all. Gandes
tried to scramble to his feet, but Jannia threw herself on him, knocking
the blaster from his hand.

"Don't kill him!" Aden shouted, getting to his feet.

Jannia had dropped her blaster and her hands were wrapped around Gandes'
throat. The madman wheezed as he struggled for breath. Aden grabbed
Jannia by the collar and hauled her off him.

Gandes tried again to rise as Jannia struggled against Aden's hold. He
clutched the newel post, pulling himself to his feet, and took a step
toward her.

Jannia twisted suddenly, bringing her knee up to smash into Aden's groin.
Pain, burning, agonizing pain, stabbed through him. He collapsed, losing
his hold on her. She lunged forward.

Her body plowed into Gandes with all the force of seven years of hate. He
fell, and she with him. A bare, green arm flashed forward to drag her
back.

Gandes tumbled down the stairs.

Through the roaring in his ears Aden could hear someone weeping.
Struggling painfully to his feet, he turned to see Emarr Dengas holding
Jannia tight in his strong bare arms.

And she was letting him.

Gandes lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, his neck bent at a
sickening angle.

Aden turned away, and went to Kerra's side. The Kethrian boy crouched
beside her, eyes wide and frightened. "It's over," Aden told him.

"Tami?" the boy asked fearfully.

Aden gulped hard. Captain Liori. He'd forgotten all about her the second
he saw Kerra fall.

"You better go to her," he said to the boy. "She's going to need you."

Ayav leaped to his feet and dashed down the stairs, shoving past Jannia,
who stood staring down at Gandes' lifeless body with a blank, stunned
look on her face, Emarr's arms still locked around her. Aden wondered if
she let him hold her because she didn't realize he was there.

Aden took Kerra into his arms. Her shoulder was burned, flesh and fabric
fused together, where Gandes' blaster bolt had struck her. Had Gandes
not, in the last second, tried to turn the weapon on the boy…

Aden swallowed convulsively. So close. Too damned close.

Kerra's eyes flickered open. His name escaped her lips, carried on a sigh.

He clutched her to his heart as if he never meant to let her go again.





"Well, I'm glad at least one of these stasis pods is going to be put to
good use," Aden said lightly as he watched Kerra recheck the settings.
She worked awkwardly, with her left hand, her right arm being bound close
to her chest. "Poetic justice, putting him in one. He meant them for us?"

Kerra nodded. "One for me, to take me back to Divras. One for Ayav, to
preserve Tami, alive and in full-blown pheromone production, in case you
slipped through his fingers this time. The others just to keep you, Jann,
and Vaia out of trouble so he could concentrate on flying the ship
without worrying about a knife in the back, I suppose."

"I'm sorry we couldn't save him," Aden said. He took her hand, rubbing a
callused thumb along the backs of her knuckles.

Kerra shook her head. "He was too far gone to be helped," she admitted
softly. "But I might be able to learn something from studying him. He's
not the first man this has happened to, or the last. If there had been a
cure other than castration when this first happened to him - "

"He would still have been a baby-raping creep." Aden's tone dared Kerra
to contradict him.

"But maybe not in the literal sense." Kerra closed the pod's cover. "I
should check in on Vaialora. And on Tamiana and Ayav."

"I wouldn't disturb those two yet," Aden warned her. "Emarr made the
mistake of walking in on them a few minutes ago. If you've never seen a
green man blush, I don't recommend the sight." He reached out to touch
her injured arm. "You need to get this looked after, Doc. If those burns
have a chance to scar, you could lose the use of it."

Kerra shook her head. "Not here. That little security officer hasn't
forgotten what we did to her. I saw her, in the bar, just before I left
with Gandes. I think she was close to placing me."

"Vaia and Jann will take us out to where we left theKey ," Aden said. "If
you can't get treatment here, you'll have to travel in one of those." He
indicated the stasis pod. "It'll keep the injury fresh."


Kerra smiled sadly. "Still trying to maintain the status quo, Aden?"
====================================================================


"Kerra..."

She shook her head, silencing him. "This has to be said, Aden. Putting it
off isn't going to make it any easier." She drew a deep, steadying
breath. "I've made my decision, Aden. This has been a great adventure,
and I'll remember it, and you, for the rest of my life. But it isn't how
I want to live my life. I love you, Aden. I probably always will. But I
don't want to be your partner any more."

Aden's throat constricted painfully. He wanted to speak, to beg her to
stay, but he couldn't make the words come, and he knew they'd be useless
anyway. She had made up her mind. And in truth, after everything she'd
been put through, he couldn't blame her.

"I'll probably go to Kethry," she continued. "That's the best place to
conduct this research. I'll need other affected subjects, and a research
assistant familiar with the condition. I'm hoping the government there
will be willing to fund my research. Otherwise, I'll have to dip into my
savings, and try to find private sponsors - "

"Have you thought this through?" Aden interrupted, finally finding his
voice. "If you're actively engaged in research, you'll lose your
anonymity. There's still a price on your head. You'll have to look over
your shoulder every day of your life."

"And I'd be ever so much safer working as a smuggler?" Kerra's voice
dripped sarcasm. "Nice try, love."

"That's not what I was doing," he protested. "Look, I promised you that
when the time came I'd respect whatever decision you made. I intend to
keep that promise. I'm just reminding you that the path you're taking now
had dangers of its own."

"I know that, Aden," she said softly. "But I have to do this. This is who
I am. This is my second chance to do what I was meant to do - to use my
gifts to help people. I'll take the risks. I'll hire security. I'll carry
my weapons at all times. But I won't hide any more. I can deal with a few
bounty hunters."

Aden's mouth twisted in a sad smile. "I bet you can."

"I wish this could end differently, Aden. I truly do." She reached up
with her left hand and brushed her fingers across his cheek. "I'll miss
you, my love."

She tried to turn away, but Aden caught her fingers an iron grip and
wouldn't let her go. Slowly, he pulled her toward him. Into his arms. His
mouth descended on hers in a fierce, possessive kiss.

Kerra tried to pull away. This wasn't fair - he'd told her he'd let her
go. What was the point in making it harder on both of them?

She turned her head this way and that, trying to escape his kiss, but he
laced his strong fingers behind her head, holding her, as his lips
plundered hers. Hot and demanding, his mouth claimed hers, his tongue
sliding along the cleft of her lips, bold and insistent, seeking entry.
She tried to resist, tried not to respond, but her body had a mind of its
own.

She moaned aloud, giving him the opening he needed. His tongue invaded,
explored, tasted and teased, daring her own to respond in kind. She
wrapped her good arm around him, and surrendered herself wholeheartedly
one last time.

After too short a time he tore his mouth away, releasing her so abruptly
she almost stumbled. "No," he gasped, keeping one hand on her good arm to
steady her. "This can't go further. You're injured. I'll hurt you."

"I don't care," she challenged.

"I do." He turned and stalked away, leaving her alone.

Kerra sat down on the pod and let the tears come.

"Those pods secure back there?" Aden called into the intercom. He watched
through the viewscreen as theWisdom's Folly lifted off, on its way back
to Beckhaven.

Part of Aden wished he was going home, too.

"Yes, sir," Ayav's youthful voice answered. "All strapped in and ready to
fly."

"Don't worry about being too careful with Gandes," Aden instructed with
the ghost of a smile.

"I'll try to drop his pod when we offload," the boy promised. "I'd do
worse if Kerra didn't need to study his...condition." He spat out the
last word as if it tasted rotten.

Aden frowned at the intercom. He'd almost forgotten. "You okay?" he asked
tentatively. "I mean, how does it feel?"

There was a long pause. "Well," he answered finally, "I begin to
understand more what the women go through. The need is very powerful.
Tami is taking really good care of me, though."

The last words were spoken with such smug satisfaction that Aden had to
laugh. "I bet she is. Get yourself strapped in, kid, and we'll be out of
here."

"I must thank you," Tamiana said, taking a seat beside him. Kerra's seat.

Aden almost opened his mouth to tell her not to sit there. It felt wrong.
"Thank me?" he asked instead.

"For giving us this ship."

"It's nothing," Aden grunted in reply. "It holds too many memories,
anyway. I want theLion back."

Tamiana nodded understanding. "I miss my old ship. I wonder what Gandes
did with it."

Aden shrugged.

Ayav slipped into the cockpit and strapped in behind his mate. "Ready,
sir," he said.

"Good," said Aden. "Let's get out of here."






CHAPTER 25
==========


"I need another blood scan on the girl who came in this morning." Kerra
thrust a medical scanner into the reluctant hands of Tamiana's latest
acquisition. The boy was small even for a Kethrian, and as skittish as a
rabbit. One of these days the project would have enough funding to hire a
real staff, but for now, Kerra had to settle for drafting members of
Tamiana's slowly growing harem.

The boy stood frozen to the spot, his hands trembling so that Kerra was
worried he'd drop the scanner. She patted is arm reassuringly. "Don't
worry, Baj, she's under sedation. Just wear your filter mask and you'll
be fine." She lifted the cuplike device from where it dangled around his
neck and settled it over his nose and mouth, then turned him around and
gave him a gentle push out the door.

Kerra shook her head as she turned back to the examining table. If Baj
couldn't get over his fear of the volunteer subjects, he wouldn't last
very long as her assistant.

Gandes' body lay on the examining table. Every bone, every muscle stood
out in stark relief, and Kerra wished for the hundredth time that she'd
been able to study him alive. Was the emaciation a symptom of his
advanced condition? She didn't have another equivalent subject to compare
him too.

At the moment, she didn't even have Ayav. Tamiana had a contract out in
Olaret space running psi enhancers, and, of course, there was no way she
could leave him behind.

Kerra struggled to fight back a sudden welling of tears. No, she was the
only one who'd been left behind. Aden hadn't even waited for her come out
of stasis. She knew she'd been the one to end their partnership, but
couldn't he at least have stayed long enough to say good-bye?

Kerra buried her eyes in the heels of her hands, as if trying to push
back the tears by sheer physical force. Five months. It had been five
months. She should have stopped crying at the drop of a hat by now. It
wasn't like it had been real. Just a holovid story she'd lived for a
while. At least, that was what she tried to tell herself.

But damn it, it had felt real. It still did.

She picked up the scanner lying on the side of the examining table.
Slowly she moved it over the dead man's still from. Even in death, the
changes to his brain chemistry were apparent. But even more dramatic were
the physical changes to his vomeronasal organ - the nasal structure
responsible for detecting pheromonal signals. The organ had grown to
twice its normal size, and there were structural anomalies as well.

Kerra's eyes widened. This was more dramatic than anything she'd expected
to see. She's couldn't wait to do a comparison scan on Ayav. If the
pheromones were powerful enough to cause structural mutations -

"Don't let me interrupt."

Kerra whirled at the sound of the sarcastic, sneering voice, only to find
herself staring down the yawning throat of a high-caliber blaster barrel.
A blaster clutched in a gleaming, synthetic hand.

Kerra felt like her spine had turned to ice. She forced her gaze up from
the gun-wielding prosthetic into the grizzled face of the man who held
it. "Hello, Darhalen," she managed with forced calmness.Never show fear.
Aden had taught her that.

She tried to draw her blaster, but her lab coat got in the way.

"Good. You remember me." Darhalen lowered his blaster, aiming it at her
questing hand just as she managed to push the obstructing fabric aside.
"Try it," he barked. "You owe me a hand."

"You should have sprung for synthorgs," Kerra told him. "A man in your
profession can't afford reduced sensitivity in his gun hand."

"I couldn't exactly afford to have it blasted off, either," Darhalen
retorted. "And why should I settle for inferior synthorgs, when I can
have state-of-the-art? You owe me a hand. You're going to make it for me
before I kill you."

"The Divran government won't pay you a credit if I'm dead," Kerra
reminded him.

"I don't care." Darhalen stepped toward her, keeping his weapon trained
on her. "You cost me, woman. Cost me my hand. Cost me my reputation. Now
I'm going to blast that pretty head off your shoulders - but not before
you replace what you destroyed."

"I was defending myself!" She backed away, putting the examining table
between them. If only the blasted thing wasn't bolted to the floor...

"Your life wasn't in danger," Darhalen countered. "Not then." He gestured
toward the table. "Put your weapon on that table and move away."

"Or what?" Kerra challenged. "You'll kill me? You might as well. I'm not
going to replicate my synthorg research for you or anyone else."

"Oh, I think you will." He grinned, exposing a mouthful of teeth as
synthetic as his hand. "I'll torch the place if you don't. All those poor
young girls you've got in stasis, that boy I ran into in the hall - you
want their deaths on your conscience? You want everything you've
accomplished here destroyed?"

Kerra shook her head slowly. The odds of her getting a shot off before he
could fire - well, they weren't zero, but they might as well be. She set
her weapon down on the table's edge and stepped away. Darhalen stepped
forward to pick it up.

"No way, scumbag. That's hers."

Darhalen turned, startled, at the sharp male voice from behind him. He
swung his gun hand around, taking aim at the interloper. He never made it.

Aden's bolt took him squarely in the chest. He flew back like a broken
doll. His body fell sprawling across the exam table, knocking Gandes'
remains to an undignified heap on the cold metal floor.

"That," Aden told Kerra, "is how you deal with a bounty hunter."

He barely had time to lower his blaster before she threw herself into his
arms.

"Not that I'm not grateful, Aden, but what are you doing here?" Kerra
activated the stasis pod into which they'd hastily stuffed Darhalen's
body and gestured for Aden to help her with Gandes. She wasn't likely to
get any more work done on him today.

"I'd rather discuss that in private, if you don't mind." Aden jerked his
chin toward Baj, who sat on the edge of the exam table holding a cold
pack to his head.

Kerra frowned, but nodded. "Go back to your room, Baj. I'll be down to
check on you in a little while."

The boy hopped down from the table, wincing as the slight impact jarred
his poor abused head. Kerra didn't think his skull was cracked, but it
wasn't for lack of Darhalen's trying.

Kerra waited until the door slid closed behind him before speaking again.
"I'm surprised you'd come here without an escort after what happened the
last time you were here."

"Jannia brought me," Aden rose as Kerra activated the seal on Gandes'
pod. "She had business on Crossroads and she owed me a favor. I made her
wait outside."

"Then Vaia's here, too?" Kerra tried to keep the excitement out of her
voice. She'd missed Aden's friends almost as much as she had Aden himself.

Aden shook his head. "Just Jann. She's working on her own these days." He
took Kerra by the hands and drew her to her feet. He made no move to
release her, and she had to pull her fingers from his grasp.

"There've been a lot of changes since you left, Kerra," Aden said.
"Dengas and O'Hare dissolved their partnership. Dorcia Henner got married
again. Marius Beck's a grandfather." Kerra's eyes and throat stung. "I'm
happy for them."

"They said to say hi. And to hear me out before throwing me out on my
ear."

The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Kerra's mouth.

Aden turned and walked over to the exam table, picked up the scanner
Kerra had been using earlier. He made a show of inspecting it. "I'm sorry
for leaving the way I did. I should have waited to say good-bye. But at
the time I didn't feel there was much else to say."

"But now you do." Kerra folded her arms across her chest. "You once said
you never wanted to come back to this planet again. I doubt you're here
just to extend an apology."

Aden set the scanner back down. "I wish you'd picked anywhere else to
settle down. I won't deny that."

"If you have a point, Aden, I wish you'd get to it," Kerra snapped,
unable to keep the frustration out of her voice. "I have a wounded
assistant to attend to."

"You never asked why Jannia had to bring me."

Kerra waved a dismissive hand. "You needed a female escort. That's
obvious, Aden."

He shook his head. "I could have hired someone. Jannia had to bring me
because I sold her my ship. For about half what she's worth, I might add."


Kerra blinked in surprise and confusion. "Why?"
===============================================


"Because she didn't have enough credits to pay full price for a new ship,
and she wanted a new start. And because I was going to retire, anyway."

"Retire?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Aden loved what he
did. He was as addicted to the lure of the stars, to the thrill of
excitement and danger, as Gandes had been to Vaialora. Why would he
possibly want to retire?

Aden laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be reduced to
one-word answers."

"I'll give you a completely nonverbal answer if you don't get to the
point," Kerra threatened, waving her fist under his nose.

"You said you didn't want to share the life I was living. I respect that."

Kerra's eyes narrowed.

"You also said you loved me," Aden continued. There was an eager, hopeful
look in his eyes that made Kerra think of a puppy she'd once had.

Her breath caught in her throat. "I do love you."

"Then we're in agreement." Aden reached for Kerra's hands and drew her
close to him. "I was worried for a moment there."

Kerra tried to pull away. "I haven't agreed to anything! I don't even
know what you're talking about!"

"It's not that complicated, Kerra. You weren't willing to share my life,
so I've decided to share yours. I want to marry you, Doc."

"Marry me?" The words came out as a whispering squeak.

"Of course. I'm not living with you on this godforsaken matriarchal rock
unless you have an unchallengeable, legally binding claim to me. It's my
only condition on staying."


"Staying?"
==========


"See, there you go with the single-word answers again. Yes, I'm staying.
At least if you want me to."

Kerra drew a deep, steadying breath. "I want you to. But to give up
everything, your ship, your business - how can I ask that of you? It's
your life."

"So you think you're the only one with the courage to leave everything
behind and start over?" Aden demanded. "This isn't an impulsive decision,
Kerra. I've been thinking about it for months."

"But what will you do?" Kerra asked. "There's not much market around here
for smugglers who've sold their ships."

Aden grinned. "I thought I might find work as a bodyguard. Protecting
fugitive scientists from bounty hunters - that sort of thing."

Kerra punched him.

"Seriously," Aden said, rubbing his arm, "I've already got a line on a
job as a commercial transport pilot. Strictly in-sector and completely
above-board. The company's owned by an old friend of mine."

"Another retired smuggler?" Kerra guessed.

Aden nodded.

"But are you sure you want to live here?" Kerra demanded. "You said you
never wanted to see this place again."

Aden waved a dismissive hand. "I want to be where you are. You need to be
where your work is. Maybe after you find a cure for this thing, we'll
look at settling somewhere else. Your choice."

"Do you really think I'll find it?" Kerra asked.

"I believe in you," Aden said, and there was nothing casual in his voice.
"And even if it takes you a lifetime, I'll stay."

Kerra shook her head. "Five years. Just give me five years. By then I'll
have this lab firmly established, with other scientists working under me.
I'll be able to delegate enough of the work that we can live somewhere
else at least part of the time. The bulk of the work will still have to
be done here, but I can analyze the data anywhere."

Aden smiled. "I like that plan. And I think I know the perfect planet to
raise our family on."

"Our family?" The flood of joy rising with Kerra threatened to sweep her
away. "You want a family?"

Aden shrugged. "Yeah. I figure, what the hell. Everybody does it, right?"

"Can we start now?" Kerra asked.

Aden seemed to consider for a minute. "Well - I guess we could
startpracticing now..."

Laughing, Kerra threw herself into his arms.





Author Info:

Norma Cecilia McPhee, named after her two grandfathers, bawled her way
into the world in Canso, Nova Scotia on a bright July morning, just
before lunch. Shortly thereafter her family moved to Cape Breton Island,
where she grew up alternating between the city of Sydney and a cottage in
a place called Beaver Cove.

Norma lived with a steady stream of dogs, cats, fish, worms, and other
pets, some much longer lived than others. She spent her girlhood camping,
fishing, road-tripping and hiking, and learned to swim, boat, dream, and
anything else that offered a challenge. She grew up surrounded by books
of every conceivable type, in a close-knit family known for its
collectively weird sense of humor.

Norma attended Holy Angels High School, an all-girl institution, where
she left a trail of nuns and other teachers wondering what happened. From
there it was off to Nova Scotia Teacher's college, where she managed to
steal a certificate in Early Childhood Education. But her real education
came from reading everything she could get her hands on, regardless of
subject.

Norma works as a nanny to support her writing habit. She lives in
Toronto, Ontario with two beautiful, brilliant, and creative little girls
(if she does say so herself) and their parents.

This bio was partially written by Norma's father. It has been edited to
remove any bald-faced lies.


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===========================






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Stories that stimulate your laughter, Provoke your tears, Evoke your
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Stories that make you think...The stuff that dreams are made of...LTDBooks

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Return to Table of Contents
===========================






Comingsoon to LTDBooks:





Shadow in Starlight

by Shannah Biondine









and if you likedInto the Fire , you might try:





Wintertide

by Megan Sybil Baker





Read on for a taste of both novels!...

























































SHADOW IN STARLIGHT









by









Shannah Biondine





















































This book is dedicated to the dear friends who listened or read,

who endured, and challenged me to make it better.



Who shared of their own patience & faith when mine ran in short supply.

Thanks to: Linda, Marilyn, Ann, Larimee, Kassia, Dayna, Trish, Connie.

And always, with loving appreciation to Bob.





Bless you.

































Chapter 1

"Forsooth, a wry misadventure," King Cronel declared with a heavy sigh.
"Your father will be sorely missed. He was one of my most valued
advisors."


Wry misadventure?
=================


Moreya Fa Yune tore her gaze from the beringed hand her sovereign waved
as he droned on about how Anthaal Fa had averted war more than once with
his polished speeches and calm demeanor. How well Lord Fa had acquitted
himself in the peace negotiations following the great battle in
Tuleskeff, how well liked the royal emissary had been here at court.

By everyone but the royal cook, whose body sagged on a pikestaff at the
castle gates. The king decreed swift and lethal punishment for the man
who'd prepared the sumptuous meal Moreya's father had fatally choked
upon. The cook was executed even before Moreya arrived under guard at the
royal castle, mere days after her father's unexpected demise.

A wry misadventure, indeed, she reflected darkly. Her father had spent
years traveling at the king's behest, visiting both near and distant
realms. Anthaal had eaten roasted yak and caribou, boiled serpent,
pickled vermin; he'd boasted of dauntless digestion and unwavering good
fortune. Other reeves had been struck by lances or arrows upon occasion.
Anthaal suffered not so much as a scratch. He convinced warriors to lay
aside their weapons, arranged vital trade pacts and defense alliances. He
boldly strode unarmed into many a war camp and lived to stride out again.

Only to return to his native Glacia, and strangle on a chunk of roast
boar in the palace hall. Leaving Moreya bereft and confused.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she mumbled, when Cronel finally stopped
praising his dead ambassador and reached for a cup of wine. A serving
girl rushed forward to mop at the king's sweaty brow with a silken cloth.
Moreya focused upon his damp forehead and kept her eyes averted from the
king's flashing rings and pudgy fingers.

"Your sire had just returned from Greensward," Cronel announced, pinning
Moreya with his sharp gaze. "He sought my permission to arrange a
betrothal for you, Lady Fa."

A betrothal? Her father had said nothing of this, not one word about
marriage or setting up a contract. Moreya's stomach tightened into a
knot. This was the true reason she'd been summoned by guards storming
Anthaal Fa's home. She'd known, of course, that she and her father
occupied the ambassador's sprawling manor as part of the king's largesse.
Upon learning of her father's death, she'd assumed the king would expect
her to find lodgings elsewhere.

Her sense of impending dread warned she was about to discover precisely
where now.

"You are to wed the prince regent of Greensward," King Cronel proclaimed.

Moreya stood at the base of a flight of steps leading to a broad dais and
Cronel's throne. The throne room was a massive chamber of polished
marble. High-backed wooden chairs aligned against the outer walls.
Massive entry doors were perpetually flanked by guards and castle pages.
She'd been granted a personal audience, but she was far from alone in the
room.

At the king's bold announcement, a collective gasp echoed off the marble
walls.

Moreya had absolutely no idea how to respond. Her father had been a royal
advisor for many years-indeed, during the last decade had served as a
high privy council member-but still and all, was merely aide to the king.
The Fa line boasted no royal blood. Anthaal had been a petty noble,
considered by most to have been more than fortunate in his own match with
a Yune woman of gentle birth. Moreya's mother had been a distant cousin
to a sovereign of the far realms. Moreya couldn't imagine that any royal
family would have agreed to a match between a future king and herself-a
woman of little consequence.

"Surely there is some misunderstanding, Your Highness," she said softly.
She did not want to antagonize him. Her gaze swept up from the steps to
where Cronel sat, to the heavy crown resting on rumpled white locks
framing a florid, piggish face.

She had been to court before, of course, to be formally presented to the
monarch. She had been a child the first time, and foolishly spoke her
mind.


"Why does the king have so many fingers, Father? I count six on each
hand!"


Courtiers and ladies in waiting had coughed and tittered, locking their
eyes on Cronel to see how he'd react to being so baldly insulted. Cronel
had laughed and pronounced Anthaal Fa's daughter a most clever girl. Then
he'd explained that waswhy he was king. He was born with excess digits.
He was, he told her with pride, a polydact. A person with more than the
usual number of fingers and toes. The excess proved he was superior,
meant to rule. Everyone accepted the fact.

She had been tempted to reply that it seemed to her everyone had made a
silly mistake, then. She had once owned a kitten with too many toes its
front paws. It had been a troublesome animal, and no better hunter than
its littermates. But her father squeezed her shoulder in warning, so
she'd kept silent. As she grew in years and understanding, she learned
the politics of the throne . . . that Cronel was a bastard who'd risen to
rule after viciously slaughtering anyone who stood between him and power.

Allowing this fat bastard to order everyone about merely because he was a
polydact seemed preposterous still, but Moreya would keep silent on that
point. He did, after all, hold her very life in the twelve fingers of his
fat hands. But she would not hold her tongue about the Prince of
Greensward.

This gallows humor was too cruel to ignore. "There is a mistake, surely."

"No mistake, my dear. Nay. Indeed, the betrothal pact was the cause for
our celebration-er, that is, I regarded it as quite an accomplishment,
even for your renowned father. He spent nearly a fortnight with Queen
Vela. All is in readiness. You will leave on the morrow for Greensward,
where you shall be wed within the month."


"But Your Majesty, I-"
======================


The chamber doors flew open. Moreya glanced back over her shoulder and
quickly ducked to one side. A knot of grappling men whooshed past her to
the foot of the dais steps. She realized they were castle guards
wrestling with a prisoner. His arms were pinioned behind him. Moreya
could see little but black and gray disheveled waves on the back of his
head.

A trio of royal guardsmen came forward. Each guard tensed at the knife or
sword pressed against his throat, held at the ready by common soldiers.
The men who'd overtaken the guards wore no colored surcoats or
distinctive blazons. Who were these creatures, motley outlaws and
vagrants?

She debated whether to remain where she stood or dash to safety behind a
sturdy chair. Would anyplace be safe, or was the castle itself under
siege? These knaves dared mock royal guards at bladepoint! Yet surely,
had the royal palace been overrun, there would be more troops swarming
about, she reasoned. A great many, bound for this very chamber.

A deep voice spoke up. "Damn it, Cronel, do you have naught better to do
than keep signing those fool warrants? What's the sot accused of this
time? Wiping his ass with royal bed linens? Tupping a prize ewe?
Mistaking your belly for an ale keg?"

Something black loomed at the edge of Moreya's vision. Big and black and
somehow producing the words they'd all heard quite audibly. Dangerous,
sarcastic, treacherous words.

Which had been spoken, she now saw, by a tall, imposing figure who stood
just a few feet from her. His head and face were completely obscured by
an oversized dark cowl. He offered a mocking bow toward the dais. Moreya
swallowed and inched back slightly, but felt her skirt hitch.


The stranger's broadsword had snagged the hem of her kirtle!
============================================================


Fighting a vision of herself being bodily dragged before the high
executioner, her garments still entangled with the blade of this brash
rebel, she tugged. The cloth tore with a slight rending sound . . . which
might have gone unnoticed, had every soul in the throne room not been
straining in hushed anticipation for what might happen next.

The cowl pivoted in Moreya's direction. "I hope your skirts haven't
dulled the keen edge of my broadsword, madam. 'Twould be a shame to have
to skewer the king on my best eating dagger."

Appalled, she responded without thinking. "Could you not find some less
flamboyant way to die, sir? A wild animal in the forest, a joust, a bold
leap off one of the nearby mountain peaks. Your blade may be keen, but
the like cannot be said of your wits!"

"Bested by a maid!" The king let out a roaring guffaw and laughter
exploded in the room. Cronel slowly descended the dais steps, pausing to
release another loud chortle. "So, the Warmonger cometh, at last. Did you
answer my page's summons, like any other knight of the realm, I'd not
have to resort to warrants against your men. Release Sir Graeme."

The guards let go of the rumpled fellow in their midst, who smoothed a
hand over stained garments. He hiccuped as he tossed a baleful look
toward the stranger in the cowl. "I'd drunk only a cupful, I swear it,
Preece."

Preece. Warmonger.


Oh, Good Creator, what had she done?
====================================


Moreya nearly fainted at the realization that the man she'd just insulted
was none other than the legendary dark knight. Subject of murmured tales
her father had shared with Drix, the captain of their home guard, or male
visitors. Anthaal had never spoken to Moreya directly of the cowled-one's
escapades, but she'd overheard enough to know she definitely stood before
her sovereign at the wrong time. Next to a ruthless warrior who had
abundant reason to mark her continued presence. Ill fortune, indeed.

She'd assumed the craven stranger wore a cowl to hide his face as he led
some brash, final assault against their sovereign.

But Sir Preece was reputed to wear a dark cowl at all times. To obscure a
hideously deformed face and head, so rumor had it. He rarely appeared at
court, and was allowed open belligerence and hostility only because he'd
proven himself an incredibly lethal henchman for Cronel. So effective
that some called him the Royal Blade.

The ebon cowl turned toward her again and Moreya instinctively flinched.
She could feel the stranger's unwelcome eyes on her person like an icy
draft. She could only imagine this was how a poor rabbit must feel under
the scrutiny of a black wolf. She couldn't run, couldn't speak, couldn't
think. Beyond ascertaining that he stood much too close to her . . . and
she had no business with whatever business broughthim before the king.

She stepped back one pace, yet another, then was pulled up short as her
skirts snagged once more.

She glanced down and discovered the knight's sword nailed her gown to the
leg of a nearby chair. She glanced up into the empty blackness of his
cowl and felt a prickle of hot temper. Her father had died, she'd been
summoned here to court with no time to prepare or adequately pack her
belongings. She'd been told a preposterous lie about some betrothal to
royalty in another realm, and now found herself the brunt of a jest with
this hooded knave!

"Your weapon appears in dire need of a scabbard," she seethed. "Would you
please pull it out so that I might-"

"Ah, as I long suspected, Preece," Cronel sneered. "The lady asks that
you pull it out."

This brought snickers from the male assembly and even more unwelcome heat
to Moreya's cheeks. She knew she must be blushing like a springtime rose.
The knight made no move to unpin her skirts, curse his soul. It must
already be blackened as his awful cowl.

"But I assure you, Lady Fa," the king went on, "This is the first time
I've ever known Preece to put his sword into a damsel's skirts. Which is
why I decree he's the knight who shall escort you to Greensward." The
king took another drink from his jewel-encrusted cup, then turned to gaze
at the forbidding figure.

"Take your besotted friend and however many knights you require. Lady Fa
has a personal maid and both have baggage. I shall provide a coach and
pack animals. You shall name your usual outrageously ridiculous fee, and
I shall agree to half that sum. You depart on the morrow, Warmonger."

"She doesn't leave this chamber until you sign a pardon for Dugan," came
the low response.

The king's pronouncements, for all their clipped, impatient tone, had not
sounded half so commanding as this softly spoken phrase. The hackles rose
on the back of Moreya's neck.

The king abruptly turned.

The royal guards no longer had blades at their backs, but Moreya sensed
this could change with the blink of an eye. The throne room stilled as
the sense of impending danger mounted.

"My blade now pierces her gown," the cowled knight said, gesturing toward
the chair. "Would you have me prove how easily it could likewise pierce
her heart?"

The king snarled something in answer, but whatever he said was lost on
Moreya. Her knees trembled, the chamber grew dim. Its walls seemed to
recede, leaving her more exposed than ever. She couldn't just stand
there! The faceless madman just might slay her, simply to prove he could!

With a peculiarly detached sense of urgency, Moreya gave one last
ferocious yank at her skirts.

They jerked free and she tumbled backwards in a heap on the floor.

































Chapter 2

Preece had been summoned to the royal bathing chamber. He folded his arms
across his chest and addressed his monarch. "She's a Yune," he stated
pointedly.

"Indeed," Cronel chuckled. "Why else would I orderyou to serve as escort?
You'll deal with the Raviner threat and are perhaps the only man in the
realm who'd not be tempted by her exotic appeal. I've offered Yune flesh
before."

Cronel soaked in a massive tub especially designed to accommodate his
great girth . . . and space for several bathing attendants. One such
female idly scrubbed at the king's back; while another braced a royal
foot against her bare breasts as she trimmed her sovereign's toenails.

These were but two of Cronel's personal slaves. In a castle the size of
this one, there were any number of servants and attendants bustling about
at all hours, day or night. These were not serfs of that kind.

Cronel had taken dozens of female prisoners during his various
battles-women from every conceivable race and known realm-and though
technically enslaved for the personal enjoyment of the Glacian king, the
women were routinely shared with knights and nobles at court.

Preece declined to sample such women. Like other Waniand warriors, he had
neither a taste for slavery nor the need to indulge in random bedsport.
Cronel mocked Preece with his casual words. Preece took a step closer to
the edge of the great tub.

"Sire, I-Damn, are you blind, woman?" Preece railed at the old servant
who'd splashed him. "With my face covered, I see better than you do!"

He'd been about to protest that he couldn't be ready to embark the
following morning for a Dredonian crossing. The king's schedule allowed
no time to recruit additional mercenaries. Preece had ridden to the royal
castle with only a handful of warriors, two of whom had already departed
on another foray of their own.

Which left only perpetually-besotted Dugan; Preece's trusted friend,
Lockram; and Sieffre, one of the youngest knights in Preece's band.

The bumbling maidservant had spilled a pitcher of cold rinse water down
Preece's leggings, angering him into forgetting his other concerns. The
woman must be wall-eyed if she'd been aiming for the king's broad pink
shoulders.

"Oh, by the stars and six moons, look at what I've gone and done! A
thousand pardons, sir. If you'll follow me, I'll have you stripped of
those wet things and some dry clothes p-"

Preece jerked away the towel she offered to wield for him. He swiped at
his knees, which seemed to only grow damper. He glanced up to find the
chambermaid lewdly winking at him. Preece suppressed a groan. He knew
that wink, and how a towel could make fabric wetter.

"All right. Which chamber houses my belongings?" He started for the door.
The bumbling maid scurried ahead of him. Once in the passageway she made
a quick left, a right, then led him to one of the castle's many guest
chambers. As soon as they were inside and the door securely closed behind
them, Preece threw the towel against the wall in open disgust.


"Bourke. Were you hoping to drown the fat throne-sitter?"
=========================================================


The stooped shoulders flared slightly. Sagging pendulous breasts
shriveled and flattened, to be obscured by a flowing alabaster beard. The
servant's apron elongated into a tattered ankle-length robe darkened with
soot. The soot from a mage's hearth.

"You've been away some time, boy. I knew you'd ride in, when I heard
Dugan had been taken again."

Preece scowled, pointing at his soggy boots and damp leggings . "You
needn't have soaked me to announce your presence. I know your wink."

Bourke shrugged shoulders so frail and thin as to be almost invisible
beneath his robe. "You needed a good soaking after that display in the
throne room. I've never known you to ill use a gentlewoman. Or your
weapon."

"Both my sword and the Yune maid are well enough."

"Mayhap, but I suffered a bit." The old wizard thrust out a spindly
forearm. A scabbed-over gash ran its length. "I was the chair!"

Preece sighed and lowered his dark cowl. "Were you not so fond of
following me about and using every possible guise to eavesdrop on matters
which do not concern you, you'd not suffer these indignities. Remember
the time the wild boar tried to mate with you on that hunt? Why don't you
return to your cave and let me-"

"I raised you from a dribbling youth, and unto this very moment, what
endangers you concerns me!"

Preece continued stripping off his clothing and mumbled a curse beneath
his breath. There was little point in reminding the old sage that Preece
was no longer a lad, but a man full grown . . . a man who hired out his
blade to protect and fight for others. He was scarce in need of guarding
himself.

"Yunes are always unpredictable," Bourke warned in his rasping voice. "I
took the precaution of casting spells upon these neck amulets. They
render males immune to the girl's physical appeal." The wizard floated
toward the ceiling and tried to sling a necklace around Preece's throat.
Preece ducked with a hiss.

"It's enough I wear these accursed ebon tunics with cowls. I won't wear
the stinking hind part of a bat! I've no need of any lustbane. As Cronel
pointed out, and you plainly overheard, I've encountered Yunes afore.
This particular one is no different. She detests me. If she could have
hefted my glaive, she'd have run me through with it."

The wizard scrutinized Preece. "You did not find her attractive, pleasing
to gaze upon? You felt naught at all when you lifted her from the floor?"

Preece grunted negatively as he stretched out full length upon the bed,
gloriously bare from head to toe. He was bone weary and impatient with
the foolishness of other men. Yune females were accounted remarkably
sensual, but Preece cared little for ogling women. Right now he felt
grateful for the peace and quiet of this chamber and a soft bed.

"You gathered her in your arms and handed her off to those royal pages,"
Bourke persisted. Was the mage never going to let this tiresome
discussion end?

"The maid had fallen to the floor. What should I have done, sent for a
kitchen barrow? Maybe she can ride in one to Greensward. Fie, of all the
fool errands, being ordered to see the daughter of some baron delivered
to her future husband in Greensward. And of all the realms, why that one?
I hate all the ceaseless plowing and talk of grain."

"She's not a baron's get, but the only child of Anthaal Fa."

Preece ran a hand over his bare chest and considered this new fact. Lord
Fa had been among Cronel's privy council members, an eminent ambassador.
The girl with the flashing violet eyes was his daughter . . .
interesting. Preece seemed to recall talk that Anthaal Fa married a Yune
noblewoman of great beauty. The daughter should have inherited some of
her mother's exotic allure.

Yet Preece had not seen much to remark upon. At least not the factors men
usually noted. Though he'd stubbornly denied any outstanding impression
to Bourke, she'd appeared to almost glimmer. Ripple before his eyes.
Surely because he was so overtired and vexed at having to rescue Dugan.

Not because of the woman herself.

"With that sharp tongue of hers, her father likely sought to transplant
her as distant as possible from his own household." Preece recalled her
taunt about his wits.

Bourke shook his head. "She's not betrothed to some petty noble, but
theprince regent . See you now how grave is your duty? Taking a Yune
across Dredonia, the most inhospitable of realms, to marry royalty at
Greensward Palace? No small task. You are certain . . . you do not find
her in the least. . . beguiling?"

Preece yawned. "Vexing, truth to tell. She likely has an even lower
opinion of me. Her dislike was clear enough. And that was after
encountering me with my cowl in place." He waved a hand, indicating his
bare upper body. "Can you imagine what she would do, seeing what I truly
am?" Were he not so dead tired, he might have let his lips quirk into a
grin. He could picture the Yune ripping her skirts free and knocking
aside every guardsman stationed between her and the castle gates in her
haste to flee.

The wizard hovered over Preece's bed. "Be ever vigilant, Warmonger. There
are dangers greater than you suspect awaiting you."

Preece drew the bed furs over his lower body and rolled onto his side,
turning away from the wizard. Why didn't Bourke make himself part of the
wall and let Preece get some much-needed rest?

"Whatever they may be, I'll face them squarely. When has Cronel ever
given me an easy challenge? He'll pay dearly, you may rely on that. He
trusts no other knight with his delicate Yune goods, and few would
attempt crossing the wastelands with her for any sum. But this sojourn
will get me coin with which to outfit a vessel all the sooner. Go home to
your cave, old one, and take your bat's rump with you. I'll be fine."

"You'll be forever changed," came a rattling whisper. Preece rose up on
his elbow and glanced around, ready to challenge that assertion. Bourke
was gone.

"He's been sniffing dead bats and evil concoctions too long," Preece
assured himself under his breath. "Forever changed. As if I could get
that lucky." He knew better. He'd be hiding under black cowls the rest of
his days. Whatever aging a man might do wouldn't be enough to change him.

He could not escape what he was, what he'd been born to. Trueblooded pure
Waniand, and hated for it.





























Chapter 3

Moreya paced her bedchamber, frowning in consternation at her maid.
Glaryd had been Moreya's companion for many years, ever since her
mother's death. The older woman truly seemed more blood relation than
servant, and had been known to disagree with Lord Fa in matters
concerning the raising of his only child. Glaryd was plain spoken and
occasionally rash of action.

But never had she dared such as she'd done this night. Nor had there been
a hint of penitence when she'd reported her deed to her mistress. As if
Glaryd hadn't grossly overstepped her station by seeking out the
enigmatic stranger beneath the cowl.

"I cannot fathom that you dared approach him, let alone proceed to tell
him how to carry out his assigned duty."

Glaryd puffed out her already full bosom. Her eyes narrowed and her lips
thinned. Moreya recognized the signs. Glaryd would not apologize.

"You've not been here since you were a child. You do not know this castle
as I do. 'Tis a wicked place, Moreya, corrupt and debauched." Her voice
lowered to a hiss. "From the throne itself downward through the ranks,
even to the lowliest male serf. There is evil here. The hooded fellow was
ordered to guard your chastity, and he shall begin this very eve, right
outside yon chamber door. He and I agreed. Now pass me your brush, and
I'll see to your hair. No more tongue wagging."

"No more tongue wagging?" Moreya repeated, both amused and astonished by
the maid's gall. Glaryd hadn't used that particular admonition in some
time. The last instance Moreya could recall was when she'd reported to
her father that one of his retainers had searched for a missing serving
ladle beneath a kitchen maid's skirts.

"I'mnot the one carrying tales, Glaryd. Just what did you tell our great
protector when you bid him sleep in the passageway? That you feared
besiegers would choose tonight to attack the battlements?"

Moreya plopped down atop one of their traveling chests and yelped when
Glaryd nearly tore a chunk of hair loose with a fierce tug of the brush.
"You do not understand the peril," Glaryd insisted. "'He did, only too
well. Any man who'd spent a night or two within these walls knows. It's
not the fortress at risk of being breached, but your maidenhead, and that
shall not happen! My girl goes to her husband pure and unblemished."

Moreya tried pointing out that she was perfectly safe, that King Cronel's
edict was a trustier seal than the lock on any chastity belt. But her
protests went unheeded. Glaryd merely lengthened her nightly prayer
ritual, flopped onto her pallet, and began to snore.

A vexed Moreya blew out the rushlights and stared morosely at the
ceiling. Glaryd hadn't been the same since Anthaal Fa's death. Of a
certainty, neither was Moreya. But she worried that Glaryd had begun to
suffer the addled wits of advancing age. To think some courtier would
dare enter this chamber uninvited, intent upon . . . Lord of all Lords,
it didn't bear contemplation. 'Twas preposterous.

Moreya was not the beauty her mother had been. Moreya didn't favor the
gossamer, brilliant-hued gowns most Yune women wore. She chose instead
simple garments in muted colors. She kept her gleaming gentian
tresses-tresses considered rare by most standards-covered in the presence
of strangers, and tried to blend unobtrusively into her surroundings. So
far, she'd escaped the notice of nobles and fighting men.

Except for the barbarian who'd deliberately speared her kirtle with his
sword. And now Glaryd had . . . The woman must be mad, inviting him of
all the available soldiers, to linger outside their portal!

Having the Warmonger blocking her exit would hardly calm any maid's
nerves. At supper in the great hall Moreya had overheard the gossip.
Hushed whispers that Preece was no ordinaryman at all, but a fearsome,
twisted creature from the depths of hell itself.

Moreya had recognized two knights amongst the many seated at the long
trestle tables. She recalled the pair from the confrontation in the
throne room. They were Preece's men, yet he'd not been seated with them.
Nor had she spotted him elsewhere in the hall during the meal. From the
snatches of conversation around her, it became clear why he was
conspicuously absent.

The things other men said of him were truly appalling. They swore he wore
the dark cowls to hide a grotesque deformity. One belched and vowed that
in more than ten years, Preece had never dined with other guests at
court. He took refreshments alone in his chambers. His food was delivered
on a tray by some unlucky servant: whichever unfortunate serf had drawn
the short twig from the kitchen broom.

This night Glaryd had spared both broomstick and kitchen serf. She'd
personally delivered the tray and requested her boon. Moreya hadn't asked
what foodstuffs had been on the Warmonger's supper tray. She'd been
afraid to find out.

She'd nearly fallen off her own bench when an elder knight boasted he'd
glimpsed Preece sans his usual cowl at a joust. The fellow averred that
the Warmonger's mouth was located not over his chin, but in the middle of
his brow. Every man at the table shuddered with revulsion. Several ladies
threatened to faint.

Moreya had held herself stiffly erect, feigning interest in her food,
refusing to let anyone know she shamelessly listened to the gossip. But
her appetite had deserted her.

When a swaggering fellow remarked he knew for certain that the Warmonger
fornicated like a beast, rutting in accordance with the cycles of the
sixth moon, Moreya had bolted from her place, gone the way of her missing
appetite.

Now, though, Moreya doubted the stories. She would not be as gullible as
Glaryd, suspecting every man beneath the castle roof was some evil
monster. Besides, she'd clearly heard the Warmonger's speech. It was
clear and coherent, not slurred. And Preece's vision must be superior to
that of most men, for despite his shadowy cowls, he rated amongst the
best swordsmen in the realm. King Cronel himself had given Preece the
moniker of Royal Blade.

She had to stop this unpleasant musing. Images of a dark, misshapen ogre
would hardly induce restful sleep. It was hard enough to settle herself
in a strange bed and chamber. Particularly hard since she was faced with
the dual losses of her father and the only home she'd ever known.

She sat up and swung her feet to the floor.

She would send Preece away, back to his own chambers-which were hopefully
located in an entirely separate, remote wing of the castle. Or mayhap
he'd go off to sleep in the garrison, where he might arise early and see
to preparations for their departure. Aye, that made more sense than him
spending the night sitting up in the stone passageway.

Moreya stepped over her sleeping maid. Fortunately, Glaryd was a sound
sleeper. She'd rant and rail if she learned that Moreya had unbarred the
door to dismiss their protector.

It was best, and not as though Moreya set out to banish the fellow . . .
exactly. Nay, she offered them both a chance to make a fresh start.
They'd not met under the best of circumstances. This was her opportunity
to remedy the situation. She would greet him courteously and attempt to
establish a modicum of rapport, as her father would have encouraged. Lord
Fa had taught her the most successful alliances oft began with simple
acts of friendship.


Friendship
==========


.




Could Moreya offer that?
========================


She wasn't certain. She wasn't certain she could gird herself for what
might be revealed beneath that cowl of his. Beyond that was the matter of
her own history. Glaryd and Drix had been Moreya's only friends-a
maidservant and the captain of the house guard. Two friends in an entire
lifetime. A painfully limited accounting; certainly no recommendation
that Moreya was someone in whom a stranger should eagerly place his trust.

But, in fairness, Moreya was being asked to trust him. Utterly and
without question. He owed her at the very least a brief personal audience.

The second she swung the door open, Preece shot to his feet and took up a
warrior stance, sword upraised. Thankfully, the black cowl still obscured
his head and face.

Moreya cleared her throat. "I cannot rest with you out here, sir. My maid
should not have summoned you. We are safe enough. You must be tired and-"

"Your maid was right. You've neither sire nor brother to watch over you.
I am charged with keeping you safe. There is no reason you should not
rest. All is quiet. Return to your bed, Lady Fa Yune."

She cocked her head, studying the dark cowl, trying to make out the
general shape beneath it, the edge of a jaw or nose. "If someone came
with malicious intent, you would not hesitate to slay him, would you? You
would endanger your own life for mine. Because the king has asked it, or
because he offered you coin?"

"Both reasons you give are one and the same. Cronel will not accept
fealty from a Waniand. I am only too happy to accept payment from the
royal coffer. What he asks, I do. I would kill any man who seeks to harm
you. Does this ease your mind?"

"Ah, yes. You areWaniand ." Moreya had heard of the obscure race. They
were said to be mystical people. "Do you-forgive my boldness, but I do
not understand. It has been said . . . Are you somehow in concert with
the changes of the sixth moon? I'd heard a fellow claim as much about
your bodily nature, but I doubt his assertion is true."


There was a long silence. Did Preece simply stare at her?
=========================================================


The cowl obscured his features completely. Peering closer, Moreya
wondered if there wasn't yet another cloth beneath it, masking his face.
She could make out nothing, not even the glimmer of an eye. Yet she felt
his gaze on her, that wolfish gaze she realized again was both intense
and troubling.

This had been a poor idea, this attempt at reconciliation. She should
have let sleeping beasts lie and never been so bold in her speech. Her
father had oft complained it was one of her flaws, though hardly the
worst.

"Forgive me, sir." She stepped back to close the door. "I have no right
to ask such questions, nor do they matter."

"They do," he countered. "I was merely surprised you'd so candidly
address the subject. I admire your courage. For the second time today."


He admiredher courage?
======================


He made a strange sound, which she belatedly realized had been the rough
clearing of his throat. His stiff posture had not changed, but he was
likely as chagrined as she at the decidedly odd turn their conversation
had taken.

"Nay, Lady Fa Yune, I am not in concert with the sixth moon. Nor the
first, nor the third. My seasons vary. There is no danger of one at
present, nor by the time we reach Greensward. That is why Cronel
entrusted you into my care."

Moreya really could not fathom what he'd said beyond the last of his
words. No one but Glaryd and her father had spoken of caring for her. The
Warmonger's clipped words were strangely comforting, even when uttered
from beneath a dark cowl.

"Do you know the other knights say you do not dine in the great hall
because you are . . . different? Mayhap you stay away purposely to set
tongues wagging. You like making people wary of you, I suspect."

"Indeed, and with good reason. I am Waniand, a warrior. The king's blade.
Go to bed, my lady."

"Do you mean to call me that for a fortnight, sir?" The cowl dipped in
assent.

Moreya frowned up at the pinnacle of black cloth. "I would hope that by
journey's end, we might become friends, Sir Preece. After all, I must
place faith in you. I would have you understand that I did not know whom
I'd encountered at first this afternoon, or I'd not have spoken so
rashly. I beg your forgiveness, and pray you come to trust that I mean
neither harm nor disrespect."

She leaned closer, adamantly shaking her head. "I do not accept their
sordid tales of a monster hidden 'neath your cowl. Truly, I've no need of
you here, but you may stay if you prefer to stand guard. Good evening."

She thrust out her right hand.

He ignored it. "You are to ride in a closed carriage with your maid. My
men and I will guard it and the pack animals bearing your dowry and
household goods. Dredonia is not a welcoming realm, but with precautions,
I hope to forestall trouble. The first precaution is to train you not to
make overtures to strange men, Lady Fa."

A broad smile lit her face. "But you are not a strange man. You are the
Warmonger. Sleep well, sir." She shut the door and scurried back into
bed, feeling tremendous relief. He'd wanted to take her hand. She'd
sensed his hesitation. Would he have kissed it? Surely not, for then
she'd have to feel his lips brush her skin. He'd not risk that. Not yet.
But he wanted to clasp it. Moreya just knew he did.

He'd blustered instead, endeavoring to prove himself worthy as her
defender.

Moreya released a small giggle. The dark knight called Preece was all her
father had said of him, naught of what the gossips maligned. She'd
descried a secret: the ferocious Warmonger was a decent, honorable man.

She was very glad she'd opened the door to speak with him, for she
doubted his prowess as warrior not one whit. But she also knew he was no
slathering beast. He harbored no malice toward her. In fact, she would
almost go so far as to suspect he liked her.

That thought brought sleep easily.









The door to the woman's bedchamber shut. Preece collapsed with his back
against it. He slid to the floor and wiped a hand over his head, allowing
the oversize cowl to tilt back enough to admit a draught of cool air. He
felt as though he'd climbed a glacier. His chest hitched with every
breath.

He'd seriously misjudged the situation here. Misjudged the Yune female.

In the throne room, she'd worn a shapeless gown he couldn't even
describe, beyond the recollection it was some drab brown or wheaten
shade. He'd run his sword through her skirts, yet he couldn't now name
the precise hue of them. He'd scoffed at the rumors about Yune women,
refused Bourke's amulet, assured himself and everyone else there was no
cause for concern.

Then she'd opened her chamber door and unleashed a maelstrom.

The faint glow he'd detected in the throne room emanated from a
magnificent head of gleaming violet hair. It spilled down over her
shoulders and waist, reaching clear to the back of her knees. The
gleaming mantle matched her iridescent eyes. Which he'd mistaken for gray
that afternoon. Ha! Never gray, not even blue, but a remarkable deep
violet. Amethyst and crystalline. Warm-cold as the gems themselves.

Her flesh was not peachy like that of most Yunes, mayhap owing to her
father's Glacian blood. But her shape was lithe and willowy, wraithlike
and supple. He had only to close his eyes and he could see and hear her
again. Asking his forgiveness, standing there with her hand extended.

Even though sheknew .

She knew what he was. She'd asked about his cycle. She'd stood there and
smiled, saying she hoped they might become friends.

Women who were not of his blood did not treat him thusly. They did not
offer friendship and smiles. Nay, they cowered, whispered behind their
hands, looked elsewhere, pretended they did not see the black cowl. This
he'd come to accept. Just as he'd come to accept the markedly different
lore of his race, the rigid rules of his existence. The Ancient Ones left
tablets and scrolls behind. Mystic tomes filled with sacred cabals, rites
and rituals, the mysteries of the olden ways. Preece had studied Waniand
lore and understood the arcane ways of his race.

So by all natural order, this should not be happening to him. Not now . .
. and not with this noble female. She was young and mayhap foolish, green
to the ways between females and males. He was not.

He'd find a way to quell his fascination. He would not permit himself to
indulge in unseemly thoughts. Thoughts of how she'd stood in the doorway,
silhouetted by the torchlights in the passageway, holding out her hand to
him. Smiling with her lips and eyes as the tips of her breasts pressed
against her thin gown. How they and her gleaming mantle of flowing
tresses had all but begged for a male's caressing touch.

He should not have even been aware of such things out of season. That he
had now, he could only proclaim as the woman's own fault. Had she no
sense of proper decorum, no maidenly coyness?

Damn her.

If only she hadn't sought him out, hadn't smiled at him. Hadn't stood
there,glowing . But she had. And he did not sleep a wink that night for
remembering.






WINTERTIDE
==========






A Novel

by Megan Sybil Baker









Cover Art by Suzette Cooper





ISBN 1-55316-024-X

Published by LTDBooks

© August, 2000

www.ltdbooks.com










































CopyrightÓ 2000 by Linnea Sinclair Bernadino
============================================


Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1,
Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1

All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced,
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent
of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.

Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data


Baker, Megan Sybil, 1954-
=========================



Wintertide
==========



ISBN 1-55316-024-X
==================



I. Title.
=========





PS3552.A37W56 2000 813'.6 C00-931152-1
======================================



PROLOGUE
========











CIRRUS COVE
===========






It was well past midwinter. The deep snows had thinned, their ice-crusted
shells sparkling in the bright morning sun. Already a few green shoots
poked brazenly through the ground. Yet, the Healer felt a chill in her
bones as she walked down the rutted path into the village. She drew the
embroidered shawl more tightly around her shoulders, scanned the familiar
horizon for the baneful shape of a black crow. She saw nothing. Only
smoke rising hopefully from chimneys into a clear blue sky.

Just my old bones, she chided herself. Old bones, weary from winters
spent in the damp cold of Cirrus Cove. Ninety winters of tending to minor
ills and life passings, and ninety summers of harvest blessings and
plague wardings. Healer's work. But watching, ever cautious, for things
beyond the ken of an ordinary Healer.

In the small square that was the center of the coveside village, cart
ponies plodded steadily, hauling their burdens for the first time without
their woolen blankets. She touched their essences as she passed. Dark
magic wore many disguises. But all seemed to be as it should.

Miles to the south, hooves pounded. The ominous thunder of their approach
was still distant and the Healer heard nothing but the shrill cry of
sea-fowl.

She followed the wheeling birds towards the pier. The Covemen were out in
their square-rigged boats seeking the first harvest. Tradition demanded
the Healer greet their return, sprinkle their catch with herbs specially
chosen for the First Harvest Blessing. She had a few hours yet. The
Healer drew in a deep breath of the pungent sea air and felt, as always,
the presence of Merkara, God of the Sea. It was his blessing she would
seek, though not without a prayer of thanks to the Sky Goddess, Ixari,
for a mild and uneventful winter. Storms had been few.

Though a last one might yet be on its way. That wouldn't be unusual for
Wintertide. Perhaps that's what she felt in the sharpness of the air,
what she glimpsed in the murky shadings darting through the waves. It was
still a winter sea: muddy-gray and crested with white foam. The air was
crisp; the Healer could imagine the shouts of the Covemen framed by
frost. They'd be working their nets with frozen fingers, anticipating
warm ale brewing for tonight's hearth side celebration.

More than ale would soon spill across the carefully polished wooden
floors of their cottages. But the Healer saw only the pattern of the
sails splashed across the horizon like clusters of low-lying clouds.

A young woman in a long, yellow dress stood at the far end of the beach,
watching the largest boat swing gracefully about. The Healer recognized
Drucilla, the Captain's daughter. The wind was shifting. The colorful
ribbons on her dress fluttered in the same direction as the sails.
Drucilla brought her hands to her hair, pushing it out of her face as she
turned towards the pier. The Healer was about to raise her hand in
greeting when a searing pain shot through her thin body. She doubled in
half, gasping.

From across the frozen marshlands there came a deafening rumble; steady
and relentless. It echoed through the icy pines. Snow cascaded from
branches, icicles dropped like daggers tearing slender wounds in the
whiteness below.

The Healer leaned unsteadily against a rope-bound piling, its pine-tar
coating sticky against her skin. Bile rose in her throat. She blinked
forcibly, focused on the thundering sound and saw them coming, saw the
dark-clothed men on dark horses, raised swords glinting hard and cold in
the Wintertide sun. She cried out to Drucilla in warning, but the young
woman, blinded by fear, was already running towards the dunes. Her long
dress whipped out behind her, its brilliant ribbons contrasting sharply
with the sand and snow under her feet. She clutched her short woolen cape
against her breast. Her boots dug a desperate trail into the sand.

A group of riders broke away, wheeled their horses after Drucilla. The
Healer watched with sickening certainty as they quickly closed the short
distance. The rest continued towards the village, shouting oaths,
shouting wardings. The mystic words were clearer now. The Healer
understood them.

She pushed against the piling, tried to stand. Tar-coated splinters raked
down her hands. But something far more heinous burned her soul, tried to
strip her of her essence.

Then the sound of screams filled the air, mixing with the acrid smell of
burning timber and canvas. And something else. The thick, cloying scent
of dark magic that only the Healer could smell. She cried out against the
pain, thrust her hand into the amulet pouch threaded to her belt. Stiff
fingers trembled over the stones. She palmed two, knowing their essences
as she touched them. She struggled to stand.

"Tal tay Raheira!" The Healer drew strength from the ancient words, felt
her essence generate its own protective fire. Heat against heat scorched
at the magics. Then the air cleared. She stepped haltingly back from the
piling, cast a worried glance down the beach. The horses were riderless.
She was too late.

She stumbled off the pier and ran for the village. Her destination was
solely practical. She could save dozens there. Behind her she could no
longer save even one.





Far out to sea, the Covemen perceived a blackish tinge on the horizon.
But it wasn't until the red glow of the flames crested like scarlet
breakers against the deep blue of the winter sky that the Captain shouted
the order to return to port.

They found Drucilla, the Captain's daughter, at the far end of the frozen
beach. Her colorful dress torn, her porcelain complexion mottled with
bruises. The bright ribbons still fluttered in the biting wind, streaming
over the snow and sand. She lay in a pool of blood from the wound in her
shoulder - a gash that crossed towards her right breast, now bared from
where her blouse had been ripped from her body. She'd been beaten and
raped by the raiders, the Hill people from the West. But she was alive.

The village itself was a mass of smoldering rubble. The gusting wind
wailed through the charred timbers as if the dwellings mourned their
occupants, many now dead. Abused and mutilated bodies littered the cart
paths and rutted roadway.

The burly Covemen cried out in anger, shouting oaths to their Gods. Their
anguished voices echoed, broke. Then in the silence that followed, the
first of the children who'd escaped crept silently out of hiding from the
thickness of the forest's edge. It would be days before the eldest - a
lanky lad of twelve - would be able to relate, haltingly, those things
he'd seen. The bright glitter of silver daggers slitting flesh like
butter, the intense crimson of the flames that licked through the
shattered windows of the small thatched houses. Many would never be able
voice those atrocities. But they'd hear forever in their nightmares the
sickening thud of Hill stallions' hooves on the lifeless bodies of their
friends and kinsmen.

Other children stumbled forth, ten in all, some clinging to the skirts of
their mothers. The Covemen rushed forward. Tears of joy ran down faces
taut with grief.

The last child was a toddler, his hand grasped firmly by the Healer.

The grizzled Captain, his bushy white hair stiff with salt spray, scooped
his small nephew into his arms. "Why, Healer? Why now?" In the forty
years he'd ruled the village, the Hill people never attacked in
Wintertide; the ground too slippery and treacherous for their slim-hooved
stallions.

The old Raheiran woman met his gaze levelly, but her fingers trembled as
she traced the ancient runesigns embroidered into her shawl. "Come to my
cave, at moonrise. I will have answers for you, then."

The Captain suppressed a shudder as she walked quickly away, amulet
pouches swinging from her belt. Hearth side legends told of times when
the mysterious Raheira had ruled the Land, altering its form and
enchanting it with spells. But now they were few and many villages no
longer used the services of a Healer. Nor cared to, for the Raheira were
viewed with equal amounts of distrust and suspicion, as well as respect.

But at moonrise he found himself at the cave in the foothills, where the
green and gold of the dunes intermingled with the browns and grays of the
mountains.

Three times Bronya the Healer cast the stones into the mage circle
scratched in the sandy surface of her cave. And three times she shook her
head and told the despondent Captain there was no choice. It had to be.

The old man clutched his short hunting knife and struck out at the
heavens daring the Sea God, Merkara, to explain these actions. But
neither the God, nor the Healer, had anything further to say.





In late summer, the Captain brought Drucilla, swollen with child, to the
cave of the Healer. Again, stones were cast into the mage circle.

"I won't tolerate a halfling in my house!" The old man's dark eyes blazed.

Drucilla said nothing, her face ashen even in the rosy glow of the fire.

Bronya retrieved the round objects. "If the child is to be who the stones
say she will, it's best I raise her. She will live with me."

A low rumble of distant thunder penetrated the stillness of the cave,
echoing off mossy gray walls. The Healer's gaze darted around the room as
if searching for something she didn't want to see.

The Captain toyed nervously with his blade, his expression softening.
"Well, perhaps a girlchild should be raised in a house, Healer. I wasn't
thinking the child would be a girl. The foothills are too…"

"I will raise her." Bronya's voice held a note of anger. "The stones say
this is the chosen child. The child he will want. Your village offers no
protection to such a child."

Thunder resounded, sounding closer this time. The old woman stood
abruptly, knocking the smooth stones out of her lap and onto the floor.
She shook a gnarled fist towards the heavens, her metal bracelets
clanging almost as loudly as the approaching storm.


"This time, she will be mine, do you hear me?"
==============================================


A wind whipped through the cave extinguishing the fire, chilling the
occupants of the dark hole. The Captain grabbed his daughter's arm and
quickly guided her towards the entrance into the failing daylight.

"We'll send word when it's her time!" His voice echoed back into the
darkness. Wrapping his long cape around his trembling daughter, he
carefully led her away from the mountains to the safety of their own
gathering on the dunes.

Bronya stared defiantly into the storm, her coarse green dress buffeted
about in the winds.


"She will be mine!"
===================


Suddenly all was quiet. The yellow light of the night sky cast an eerie
glow into the cave of the Healer. She followed its shaft to the floor.
The outlines of the circle, now covered in dust, were barely discernible.
The stones were as they had fallen from her lap. Their pattern was
unmistakable.

The Sorcerer claimed the unborn child for himself.

















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