by Cathryn Cade
He knew with humiliating certainty this wouldn’t go unremarked upon by the crew. Great God beyond, what was it he’d said to Izard? Never mind, he was sure the Serpentian would take keen pleasure in reminding him. The long-time guard had a mischievous streak. He’d once gone so far as to send Captain Steve Craig a lovely guard cadet as a gift! Surprisingly, that had ended well—the spirited, lovely young woman was now Mrs. Craig.
However, his own liaison with Nelah Cobalt certainly wouldn’t end that way. She was not for him. Too young, too emotional. She needed his firm hand on her training and then he would send her on her way to another post somewhere.
Navos ignored the hollow feeling that followed this image. He’d been—no—he was content with his life. He’d advanced to his present station through hard work and the application of his formidable intellect, which he knew to be superior to most of his galactic fellows. He took no special pride in this. It was fact. The ancient adage “he to whom much had been given, of him much would be expected” was quite true.
He’d had sexual liaisons, certainly. However, since the disaster of Beryl Mazarin his affairs had been the satisfying of a purely physical urge, no more. Her effect on his personal relations was lasting. He engaged in sexual acts only with women who wished as little as he to become emotionally involved.
Curious, though, never had he felt the overwhelming need to meld himself with a female as he had tonight. He’d wanted to engulf Nelah, to overpower her so she belonged to him, body and mind, so she needed him as much or more than he needed her.
By the Great Being, he sounded like an emotional female, he thought with the horror of an intellectual who finds himself confronted with human weakness. He sounded like…his mother.
All his life, he’d striven to be like his father. Nalon Navos had been a professor at the university, the epitome of Indigon intellect and calm. One of his students, a young Earth II emigrant, had become infatuated with him. A passionate, intelligent girl, she pursued the quiet intellectual relentlessly until he married her.
They had been happy for a time. Daron had memories of a lovely woman, incandescent with joy and laughter, who had enchanted both her husband and son. But she’d had a darker side, as well. Her moods swung wildly. Her husband, unable to deal with her jealousy, temper tantrums and moods of black despair, spent more and more time away from her. Much of Navos’s childhood had been in the quiet dignified environs of the university.
His mother had deteriorated further. One night, apparently maddened by her husband’s pity, she lost all control and shoved him against the balcony railing of their home. As Daron watched in horror, they fell to the lawn far below. He could still see their crumpled bodies lying on the grass.
For years Daron believed his mother had murdered his father. Finally when he was a young man, he read the death certificate. His mother had been suffering from manic depressive illness, his father from a weak heart. He’d had a heart attack, or neither of them would have fallen.
Logically, Navos knew his parents’ deaths had been accidental. But what their son remembered, what he had trouble even now shaking off, was the notion that excess emotion had killed both his mother and father.
Nelah Cobalt was a young, emotional creature. Perhaps it would be prudent to look into her history. He sat before the computer in one corner and called up the holo-vid display.
“Research Nelah Cobalt,” he said quietly. “Family background.”
Within seconds he was watching a series of holo-vids accompanied by an emotionless narration. There were her parents holding a tiny girl with huge eyes and an enchanting smile. There she was as a sylph-like adolescent, dancing a gymnastic routine. There she beamed, incandescent with pride and joy as she received her diploma from a row of professors at the university.
“Nelah Cobalt. Age 22. Graduate of Indigon University. Born, Indigon City. Parents, Maura Cobalt and John Smith.”
“Background on John Smith,” Navos interrupted, caught by the name.
Within seconds, his fears were confirmed. Nelah’s father was human. Born on Earth II, he’d emigrated to Indigo as a young man and started a lawn- and garden-care business. He met Maura Cobalt when he came to take care of the grounds of her parents’ home in the mountains outside the city. Nelah was born soon after their marriage.
Her father had become a successful inventor, but then died in a work accident when one of his lawn-care robots malfunctioned. His widow later remarried—to Professor Loftan Cyan. A few years afterward, she herself died of a virus brought from off-planet.
Noting that Nelah had soon left her family home and applied for custody of the remaining family assets, Navos nodded to himself. She might be an impulsive young woman, but she was not a fool. She’d obviously seen Cyan for what he was—a scheming weasel-cat.
Cyan had won the family home and a substantial amount of money, but Nelah was still a wealthy young woman.
A half-human woman, with all the warmth and impulsivity of a human. Did she also carry the darker characteristics? He remembered her anger, how her blue eyes had flashed at him and how she’d turned the tables on him, calling him to her even as he had called her. A half-human woman with the skills of an Indigon empath/intuit.
Despite the warmth of the room, he felt chilled to the bone.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Navos was relieved to note it was a quiet, formal Nelah who presented herself at his office. She wore a neat suit similar to his own, dark blue with a high collar. She had used none of the cosmetics that had adorned her face the night before. Not that she was any less lovely without them. He eyed her across his desk. Her expression was shuttered, as if she were masked. Good. That was good. They could not work together if her eyes were soft and glowing with the expression she wore when he—
He slammed a door on the sensual memories that suddenly threatened to swamp him. Great God beyond, what was the matter with him? As if he didn’t know what, or rather who. She was seated primly across the desk from him. This wouldn’t do. He must remind himself, and her, that he was in charge and she was a volatile creature who must be taught to control her powers.
“We will begin your training with a simple exercise,” he said. “I’m reviewing the passenger rosters not only for aberrant thought patterns—those of blatant malice toward the Orion, but to determine if any of them may have a certain type of device implanted.”
He set a tiny cerametal capsule on the desk. She leaned forward to peer at it carefully. Looking inquiringly at him for permission, she waited until he nodded before picking it up.
“What is it for?” she asked.
“It was removed from the Indigon boy who died.”
“Euww!” She dropped it with a clatter. “And you believe it had something to do with his crazed behavior?”
Navos explained their theory on the implant. Nelah eyed it as if it was a dangerous insect.
“You think there may be others with these implants?”
“I mean to be absolutely certain there are no others.”
She straightened her shoulders. “Very well, Commander. How can I help?”
He gestured to a hatch leading from the side of his office to a cubicle fitted with a desk and chair. “You’ll work here. Your job is to go through the passenger roster.”
“The entire roster?” Her eyes were wide and startled.
He raised an eyebrow. “You wish to change your mind?”
She flushed. “No, of course not.” Lifting her chin, she turned to the small desk. “Please demonstrate the procedure.”
“Very well. I must enter your mind to do so.”
A faint mauve flushed her cheekbones. “Yes, sir.”
Navos suppressed an inward groan. He found himself at once reluctant to meld minds with her and fighting a base eagerness to do so. He’d thrust deep into her mind at the same time he’d thrust into her body. But this was not a sensual exercise—it was work. Crucial work. They must discover if anyone else on the Orion
had one of the implants.
Of course, what he hadn’t told her was the two male interns had already been studying the passenger roster, were nearly finished and had found nothing. It had been exhausting for the pair of them. He estimated that, alone, it would take her at least a week. But at least it would keep her occupied and out of trouble while he and the other crew commanders strove to discover who was trying to destroy the Orion.
Nelah was relieved that when Navos entered her mind this time he maintained a narrow focus. He demonstrated briefly how he would search her thoughts and intentions, noting any large emotional vagaries, as well as any anomalies in the physical structure which bound thoughts and emotions. Then he drew back, leaving her shaken, yet relieved that she’d managed to keep her thoughts focused on what he was teaching.
“Now you will do the same with one of the passengers,” he said, so coldly Nelah knew with sickening certainty he felt no emotion at all. She took a breath, fighting to maintain calm. She could learn to be as cool as he—and she would.
She managed the first scan with creditable aplomb. Navos said nothing, simply observed as she worked. As she began the second, he nodded shortly and left, closing the door behind him.
Hours passed. Nelah was not sure how many. She left the room only to take care of bodily needs. Use the toilet across the passageway, get a drink of water, a snack and then return to her task. Her world narrowed down to the beings passing before her on the holo-vid display. Look at the holo-vid, note the pertinent statistics. Study them in ever-closer layers of detail, first their outer appearance, then take a deep breath and open her mind to search out and find the being somewhere on the Orion.
It was painstaking, fascinating and utterly exhausting. She discovered some beings, particularly Aquarians, were more sensitive than others to being intuited. She nearly giggled nervously the first time an Aquarian male startled when she probed into his mind. Delicately, she skated around along the necessary paths of exploration and then slipped out of his consciousness. She thought she sensed a trace of amusement and found herself blushing. Heavens.
Nearly all, however, had no idea she was there. She was by turns fascinated, appalled, disgusted and horrified by the urges that filled the minds of the Orion’s travelers. This was an education of a different sort for a well-brought-up Indigon young lady. Perhaps she should be taking notes for a scholarly paper, she thought wildly at one point. Random behavior patterns within planetary races.
Some were awful. She really didn’t want to know what Mauritanian males wanted from potential sexual mates—ugh! Or the avarice that drove some businessmen. Or the twisted sexual relationship between at least one couple aboard the ship. She had to get up and walk the passageways for a time after that one, wondering if she should speak to someone in authority. Finally she decided what went on in their stateroom was their business, as long as they were both consensual adults.
But she wouldn’t give up. She wouldn’t quit. She would show Commander Daron Navos she could do anything his male interns could do. Perhaps she would be the one to find another implant. If Navos and the captain were concerned for the Orion, she meant to help them. And she had to go faster, or she wouldn’t finish in time.
Hours later, however, she discovered with each successive intuitive search, she felt weaker. Physically, her head ached, her stomach was tight. This she accepted as the tension of learning and accomplishing a new and important task. She’d felt such symptoms during examination week at the university.
Psychically, however, it was much worse. She felt somehow raw and sore, as if delicate tissues were being repeatedly scraped with a fine grit. Intuiting the mind of a spiteful Pangaean woman harboring cruelty for her beleaguered daughter-in-law, Nelah winced. She must rest. After she meddled just a tiny bit. She ignored the niggle of guilt. Navos hadn’t actually said she was not to influence any of the passengers. Although she knew he would have, had he considered it necessary.
Very carefully, as she was not sure how much power was necessary, Nelah flowed further into the Pangaean’s mind. She found the center of emotions. And then she sent a flow of positive energy.
She blinked in delighted astonishment. She could actually feel the older woman changing stances, emoting kindness toward the younger woman next to her.
Pushing a little harder, a tiny, catlike smile curling up her lips, Nelah urged the woman to offer her daughter-in-law a spa treatment.
Heady with triumph, Nelah urged the idea of a financial gift as well. As she intuited a response of astonishment, Nelah winced. Perhaps that had been a bit much—but she had a sense of wealth and ease, so it couldn’t hurt. She retreated very slowly, taking care to leave the new impulses seated in the woman’s mind. Of course she could not be sure they would stay, but it had been worth the effort to at least try.
Then she collapsed with a groan, letting her head fall onto her folded arms. She wondered vaguely what torture Navos had devised for the male interns. Seconds later, she was asleep.
Nelah woke up with a start and looked around her groggily, unable at first to recall where she was and what she was doing. Then realization returned. She yawned mightily, scrubbed her hands over her face and rolled her stiff shoulders.
She looked at the holo-vid display, the image of a squat Bartian scowling at the holo-cam. A whimper forced its way up her throat. How much longer could she keep this up?
Then Navos’s face floated before her mind’s eye. She pictured him raising one brow in that eloquent, disdainful way. Determination surged through her and she straightened, scowling back at the Bartian.
She wouldn’t quit!
“Ah, Daron, there you are. And your young interns as well.”
Navos looked up from his breakfast as Steve Craig pulled out his chair across the table from him. Breakfast was an informal affair, the crew commanders mingling with crew and passengers. The captain was brimming with his usual morning vigor, his lean cheeks still flushed, silver blue eyes bright. Navos knew he would have just come from a stringent workout with the ships guard.
Navos himself hadn’t slept well. It was that which put him in a cranky mood, he told himself. Not because each time he awakened, he’d found himself looking for a tousled dark head on the next pillow.
He was still watching for her now, which irritated him even more intensely. As did Tessa Craig’s comment as she joined them a moment later.
“Hello, Commander Navos. Gentlemen.” She smiled sunnily at him and both of the young Indigons, who bowed with identical courtesy before going back to their breakfast. She slipped into the chair next to her husband and smiled at him before turning back to Navos. “I was hoping Nelah might be with you this morning. I met her yesterday in the spa.”
Navos inclined his head politely. “I’m sorry, I have not seen her this morning.”
“Perhaps she’s sleeping in,” Tessa said cheerfully. “I find it’s the best thing to do on a long voyage—for a passenger, that is.” She made a rueful face at her husband, for she was not a passenger, but a member of the ship’s guard. She wore the golden-yellow uniform proudly.
Navos busied himself with his steaming coffee. His personal nemesis had better not be sleeping. He intended to work her rigorously. She must learn to exert perfect control of her talents. And, if his training had the added effect of discouraging her from wishing to work as an empath/intuit, that was all to the good. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about what havoc she was wreaking.
He rose abruptly and the two interns bounced out of their chairs as well, though they were not finished eating. He waved them back. “Finish your breakfast. You may review your notes from our session. I will see you both in my office in an hour.”
He strode off to the nearest elevator, skirting groups of passengers making their way to breakfast. As he rode up to the command deck, he summoned Nelah on his com-link. When she did not immediately answer, he opened the link anyway. This went against shipboard etiquette, but he didn’t give a damn for rules just now. A
distant warning sounded in his mind at this, but he ignored it.
She lay in her narrow bunk in a boneless sprawl, her bare arms and one small foot protruding from the coverlet. Her face was soft, her lashes a dark fan on her cheeks. Just the way she’d looked in his bed, before he awakened her by slipping his hand under the covers. If he did so now, she would stir and then open her eyes and smile at him, a sleepy, inviting smile.
He watched her for a long moment, until the elevator stopped, jolting him out of his reverie.
“Ms. Cobalt,” he said clearly. “You are late.”
She started, her eyes opening to a blank blue stare. Then she frowned and lifted one hand to her head, as if it hurt. “Time izzit?” she mumbled.
“The work day has begun.”
She sat up slowly, her hand still to her head, her eyes heavy. The coverlet fell to her waist, revealing the tiny lace camisole that barely covered her breasts. He could see the shadow of her nipples through the lace, somehow more enticing than nudity.
Then she grabbed the blanket and jerked it up to her chin, staring at him—or his holo-vid image. She scrubbed one hand over her eyes, as if unable to believe she was awake.
“Daron?” she asked, her voice still husky with sleep. “What is it? What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
“No, although you’d have slept through it if anything had, wouldn’t you?” he asked.
“Oh!” she burst out. “Unfair! For your information, Commander, I was up most of the night shift, working. I only got to sleep a few hours ago.”
She threw back the covers and leapt out of bed, her face stormy. The last thing he saw was her hand covering the holo-cam. The image winked out, but not before he heard her mutter something uncomplimentary. It seemed to focus on his lineage, or lack thereof. He was surprised into a chuckle.
He strode down the passageway to his office, his bad mood gone. Up most of the night? Hah!
