Shadower (29 page)

A pall settled over the galley. Images of Nissar resurrected, and Moriah shuddered. The night left behind hadn't banished the horror, simply held it at bay for a few short hours. "I'm not hungry," she said.

"Neither am I." Sabin slammed the replicator closed. "Damn Galen's black soul for all eternity!"

They spent the rest of the day in the cockpit, much as they had the evening before—in silence. The only spoken words came from Sabin sending out another broadcast regarding Galen and checking with his contacts. No one had seen the man. For now, it seemed, he had vanished like vapor.

As the day passed, Moriah tried to focus on formulating foolproof plans for the pickup, but other thoughts sabotaged her efforts. Nissar, Sabin, images of them entwined in passion. Resolute, she'd force her focus back to the iridon, only to have it wander away again.

Midday came and went, sliding into evening shift. They still hadn't eaten, neither one hungry. Finally, Sabin leaned back, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Spirit, what a day." He remained silent for several moments, staring straight ahead, and she suspected he was thinking about something. Finally, he got to the point. "We need to discuss your dealings with the Leors."

Oh, great. Back to that.
"No we don't," she responded. "I haven't pried into your business dealings, and I expect you to stay out of mine."

"I wouldn't pry if you exhibited good sense. What you're doing is totally foolhardy."

"Butt out, Travers."

His eyes narrowed, flashed fire. "I want your word that this will be your last deal with the Leors."

"You have no right to dictate how I live my life."

"Someone has to, before you get yourself killed."

She glared at him, seeing the sheer determination etched on his face. He meant to curtail her activities, which she would never allow. What would happen when she left him behind? He might turn her in to the Controllers, though she doubted he would.

He still didn't know the location of the iridon delivery, and the quadrant was huge. He couldn't possibly disrupt the deal. She'd make a break from him after she saw the healer tomorrow. Roanne should already be on her way to Elysia to meet her.

The probability of ever crossing paths again with Sabin was very unlikely. Regret and a jumble of unfamiliar emotions swept through her. "I can take care of myself," she insisted.

He growled in frustration. "Very few people can hold their own against the Leors. Smuggling is a dangerous business, period. I'm worried about your safety. I don't want anything to happen to you."

His concern touched her more than she liked to admit. Warmth flowed through her. He was attractive. And compassionate and honorable and…very sexy. Her body began to feel heavy, languid. Heated yearnings coiled and beckoned. Funny, but she could think of things she'd much rather do than talk about something that was never going to happen.

Her newfound feminine power lent her a startling boldness. She rose and moved to him. "Shut up, Travers." Shoving him back against his chair, she leaned over him. She brushed her lips against his and whispered, "Why don't you use your mouth for something constructive?"

One thing she liked about Sabin—he wasn't one to let opportunities pass him by. She found herself yanked onto his lap, his lips fastened hungrily on hers. He rapidly dispensed with her shirt; she got his partway off.

She couldn't believe how quickly desire had displaced her sexual fears, how quickly passion escalated into an inferno. She'd never known it could be like this, never realized the craving to be touched and possessed grew with each sensual encounter. She'd never known need could be so intense, so urgent, never imagined her skin could become so highly sensitized, burning for Sabin's touch.

She arched back, offering herself to his hands and mouth. He took full advantage, fueling the flames. A mating fever possessed her, hot and wild. She straddled him, pressing kisses on his chest, his neck, his face. Her hands slid over him, down his belly, scraping along his thighs. His chest heaved when she caressed the bulge straining against his pants. Undoing the front seam, she slid her hand inside.

"Oh, Spirit," he groaned. "Sweetheart, slow down."

His erection throbbed against her hand. He needed her as much as she needed him. "I can't," she whispered. "I want you inside me—
now.
"

"I like a woman who gets straight to the point," he gasped, his breathing labored.

He dragged her to her knees, tugging her pants down, finally ripping them to get them out of the way. She slid over him, and he entered her in one blazing thrust. She gripped his shoulders, giving herself over to the fever. It was fast, it was frenzied, and she gloried in it. He held her securely, safely, through the tempest.

He held her afterwards, too, as their bodies cooled and their thundering hearts calmed. And later, he held her again, as they lay in his bunk, satiated and tired. She stayed awake a long time, listening to the steady beat of his heart, to his deep, even breathing. She committed his warmth and strength to memory. Tomorrow they would reach Elysia. This could well be their last night together.

*  *  *  *

"That's great news, Nealon," Sabin said. "We'll meet you there in about half an hour."

Only half-listening to the conversation, Moriah stared out the portal. Elysia was as beautiful as always, the sun shining, the palms swaying gently in the breeze. This was it—the end of their journey. One more cycle, and she'd be on her way to pick up the iridon. Away from Sabin. Her chest tightened, but she shoved away all sentiment. She could never allow a man into her life.
Never.

His hand on her waist pulled her back from her thoughts. "Ready to go?"

She nodded. They stepped through the hatch and into a virtual paradise. The balmy breeze caressed them, carrying the mouthwatering smells of food from the nearby marketplace. The sound of chimes floated through the air, along with the babble of hundreds of voices.

Surprising her, Sabin took her hand and tucked it inside his much warmer one. He whistled jauntily as they strolled toward the marketplace. She glanced at him. "You're certainly in a good mood."

He squeezed her hand. "Yep. I'm debating how much of your mind to have altered. I was thinking of having Darya delete the obstinate, hardheaded parts of your nature."

Moriah didn't find him at all amusing. Knowing very little about memory alteration, she was apprehensive about the procedure. Halting, she tried to free her hand. "That's not funny, Travers. I don't want anyone tampering with my mind. Unless you can give me some guarantees, I won't go anywhere near your damn healer!"

He turned toward her, his expression now serious. "You're really nervous about this, aren't you?" He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything."

Only a fool would be ignorant of the dangers in the world. She'd seen too many things in the quadrant that inspired fear, or at least a healthy respect. But she had learned admitting fear could be seen as a weakness. She brushed away Sabin's hand. "I'm not. I just don't know anything about the procedure."

"It's simple and painless. Darya will erase only your knowledge of the colony's location. I'll be there the entire time, and I'll make sure that's all she does."

"That's
reassuring," she muttered. "How does Darya do this feat?"

"She uses a mild drug, along with a form of hypnosis that mimics psionic brain waves. While you're hypnotized, she'll instruct you to forget the colony and its location. Then she'll give you suggestions that will block any attempt, including Controller probes, to force you to remember."

It sounded simple enough. She had given her word and didn't intend to back down now. "Let's get it over with, then."

"Good idea." Sabin started off again, her hand still clasped in his. "We have one stop to make first."

Suspicion reared. "What?"

He grinned. "Show you when we get there."

Rolling her eyes, Moriah gave up on retrieving her hand and decided to enjoy the market. She had traded at Elysia on several occasions, but each time she visited, she was fascinated anew with the masses of people and the amazing store of goods available. This time was no different, and she avidly took in the sights and sounds.

The one area she preferred to avoid was Slavers Square, where the slaves were sold. The sight of the huddled, shackled beings, children included, sickened her, reminding her of her time with Pax. Sabin appeared to feel the same way, as he took a path that detoured around the square. Or perhaps he liked passing by the Pleasure Domes, which happened to be in the direction they took.

He certainly seemed to enjoy watching the female dancers outside the Domes. Dressed in sheer silks leaving very little to the imagination, they writhed erotically and beckoned passersby to come inside and sample the myriad pleasures available. Undaunted by Moriah's presence, one well-endowed brunette approached Sabin and shimmied up against him. He didn't seem to mind her advances at all.

Moriah narrowed her eyes. Lightning bolts of anger sparked, much to her shock. She wasn't jealous, she told herself. Just irritated with his behavior. She tried to jerk her hand free and leave the idiot to his dark-haired prostitute. They deserved each other.

Laughing, he extricated himself from the clinging female. His jovial mood was starting to get on Moriah's nerves. "Jealous?" he asked, tugging her along the path.

"No!" she snapped. "Disgusted."

Still grinning, he swung around and pulled her against him. "You put those females to shame, sweetheart. Especially when you're wearing your rhapha." Lifting her chin, he brushed his lips against hers. Her heart skittered. "Or better yet," he whispered, "when you're wearing nothing at all.

Desire unfurled, sending a firestorm through her body. Her immediate, wanton response to him alarmed her. She didn't want this sensual pull between them, didn't want him to have such power over her. She started to object as he kissed her, but that only granted his tongue entry. Giving in, she kissed him back. She'd be far away by this time tomorrow. Then the ties would be severed, and she'd no longer be affected by him.

Ending the kiss, he raised his head. "Hold that thought," he said, his gaze hot with unspoken promises. Taking her hand again, he strode on.

They left the Domes behind, turning along a path that, according to the direction monitor, led to the shipyard. Confused, Moriah asked, "Is Darya near here?"

"No, she's on the other side of Slaver's Square." He quickened his pace, and she struggled to keep up.

"Then why are we going this way?"

"To see my new ship."

"Your new ship?" She stopped dead in her tracks, gaping at him.

He beamed, more excited than she'd ever seen him. "Yep.
My new ship.
There she is."

She looked where he pointed. Surely he didn't mean the large Skymaster dead ahead. Skymasters were the finest ships made, the sturdiest, the fastest, top of the line—and expensive.

He strode straight to the craft in question. A man lounging against the side straightened and came forward to greet them. Tall and burly with a shock of red hair, he wore a metallic gold flightsuit with the Skymaster logo imprinted across the front. He extended his hand. "Sabin!"

Sabin shook the proffered hand. "Nealon. Good to see you." He studied the ship. "She's beautiful."

Nealon nodded politely to Moriah and then stepped beside Sabin. He folded his arms across his beefy chest as he perused the ship. "Yep, she's a beaut, all right. Wait 'til you see the inside. Built exactly to your specs. Looks great."

This was a custom ship? Amazed, Moriah studied the sleek lines and the royal-blue lettering emblazoned over the silver-blue metal. It was an SC-8400, a long-range cruiser about twice the size of Sabin's old craft.

She followed behind the two men as they walked its perimeter. The vessel was impressive, but Sabin's reaction interested her more. Reaching out to touch different external components, he glowed with pride. Not that she blamed him, considering the junker he'd been flying. But how could he possibly afford a ship such as this?

When they approached the hatch, Nealon drew back. "Go on in and check her out. Take all the time you want. I'll wait for you at the office. We'll settle the final payment after you make sure everything is to your satisfaction."

Moriah followed Sabin aboard, consumed by curiosity. "I didn't know you were getting a new ship. Not that you didn't need one."

"It's been in the works for a while now." He looked down the long corridor, immense satisfaction etched on his face. Strolling along, he inspected tiles, moldings, and control pads, then stepped inside each of the compartments. She walked behind him, taking it all in.

On the port side, there were two spacious cabins, each with their own lav. The roomy galley had state-of-the-art appliances, including a preprogrammed replicator. "That's a good thing," she teased. "No more protein sticks and amargrain."

Sabin grinned like a Shen who'd stumbled across a hidden treasure, then stepped back out into the corridor. They retraced their steps, examining the starboard side. Three more compartments, much smaller than the other cabins, opened off this side. "Are these for storage?" she asked.

He hesitated. "Not exactly. I'm going to check out the cockpit." He headed toward the front of the ship.

Curious, she explored one compartment. It had a narrow bunk, but no shelves and no lav. No, wait— recessed hygiene facilities were across from the bunk. An ugly suspicion reared, but she refused to accept it. She walked to the entry and looked for the inside control pad.
There wasn't one.

Trepidation slithering through her, she stepped into the corridor and studied the control unit there. She pushed one pad, expecting the panel to close. No panel slid out. Instead, a low hum, and faint, greenish waves shimmered in the opening. A force field.

A brig. Moriah stumbled back, her heart pounding. Surely she was wrong. She glanced toward the other two compartments. They had identical control pads.
Three brigs?
No one would have need of brigs, unless…they were carrying prisoners.