"Because your shaauri mentor taught you to defend yourself." When he remained silent, she set Archie down and folded her arms across her knees. "He taught you very well, Ronan. He must have cared about you, as you cared for him."
"Sihvaaro was my teacher."
"You don't hate all shaauri."
He looked at her, weighing how much of this question was meant in friendship and how much to discover his truest feelings. "Some were kind. But I was never one of them."
Cynara paced the length of the cabin. "I know what it is to feel… different. My life was nothing like yours, but—" She stared at the holo on the bedtable. "You may think all humans hate shaauri, but this war can't last forever. Something will bring it to an end."
"Like this ship."
"Like you."
Archie bumped his nose against Ronan's ankle, demanding attention. Ronan let the feel of fur under his hand soothe away his sudden and inexplicable fear.
"You saw what happened to the Bifrost colony because it couldn't get enough supplies through the shaauri blockade," Cynara said. "It's not the only world that's suffered. Dharma relied heavily on trained personnel and technicians from the Concordat, especially Persephone, to help us rebuild our world after the Long Silence. All the progress we made before the Second War—in medicine, in the exploration and utilization of our own system's resources, in making life better for the people—has virtually come to a halt."
"Yet you have this ship."
"It's little enough. Other worlds have also suffered. Even the Concordat has need of raw materials found only among the Nine Worlds. Lives have been lost because these materials and personnel could not be transported through the Shaauriat."
Now was not the time to ask more about the Pegasus and the part it played in circumventing the blockade.
Show human cunning. Keep her trust.
"I am sorry," he said, trying to drive from his mind the images of young humans suffering or elders dying because of his kin.
Remember who you are. It is humans who began this war, humans who would destroy or enslave every last shaaurin if they could.
"No one blames you, Ronan. You did not choose where you were born."
He rubbed his chin across Archie's supple back. "You grew up on Dharma," he said, guiding her away from unprofitable subjects. "Those in the holo are your kin?"
"Yes. My father, mother, brother, and cousin."
"Your mother wears a facial covering. Does she hide a deformity?"
"It's the custom on Dharma for adult women to wear the veil."
"Does it not restrict vision?"
"I seldom wore one."
"Do your people not regard you as adult?"
The question seemed to startle her, though she recovered quickly. "Oh, yes. I passed that threshold at the appointed time. But certain… events prevented me from taking up a 'proper' Dharman woman's role."
Ronan had learned that such a tone of voice was a kind of mockery Cynara often employed, sometimes at her own expense. All the nuances a shaaurin might have expressed in pitch or with tiny gestures of ears or whiskers were contained in mere words. And words were not enough.
Cautiously he opened his mind to receive her surface thoughts, watching for any sign of awareness on her part. "You were different from other females on Dharma."
"Distressingly different, as far as my family was concerned. Women simply do not… do the things I've done."
"Such things as ruling a starship?"
"Among others." She sat on the edge of her bed, and Archie jumped up to join her. "I was not the person originally intended for this post."
Humans did not have Selection, he reminded himself. Their Paths were fixed in other ways, sometimes by choice, often by their elders or through the influence of kinship connections.
"Your family did not approve," he said.
"My family had arranged a marriage for me shortly before… before the events that led up to my assignment." She stroked Archie's back. "On our world, women of high rank are expected to marry for family advantage and political alliance."
"You were given no choice in your mating?"
"None. But I escaped it nevertheless."
Her emotions grew increasingly chaotic, and Ronan knew she did not wish to speak of her background or how she had come to be captain of the Pegasus. Yet a part of her longed to confide some inner pain with one who might understand, one not burdened by a past relationship with her or her world.
Ronan crouched beside the bed and scratched Archie at the base of his long tail. "There is a likeness between us, Cynara."
"As outcasts?"
"As those still searching for the correct Path."
"I've found mine, and I intend to hold to it."
He realized that she spoke not to him, but to some part of herself she needed to convince. An enemy within, like his.
"And if I say I have found mine as well?" he said.
Her hand stopped on Archie's shoulder. "You've hardly left shaauri space. You have entire worlds to discover."
"If all human worlds are like Dharma and treat their females as slaves, I doubt I will wish to."
'They aren't." She shook her head. "You can't learn about humanity in bits and pieces. Once we make planetfall, I'll get you more detailed histories of human colonization."
"It is about you I wish to learn." He touched her clenched fist and worked her fingers open one by one. "Everything, Cynara."
All at once her thoughts swam with images like those she had pried out of his past: naked bodies entwined in this very bed, male and female, ne'lin and captain.
Her desire reawakened his own need, never far below the surface. Thought fed on thought, rebounding and redoubling until Ronan could not separate her emotions from those mastering him, her inner battle from the war raging within his skull.
The danger was real. He ignored it and took her shoulders in his hands. She seized the front of his shipsuit. Archimedes jumped off the bed.
Ronan showed her just how much he had already learned.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
For a man who'd had so few opportunities for kissing, Ronan did it very, very well. The pecks she'd given him on Bifrost were nothing, mere throwaway gestures in the midst of crisis. This was entirely different.
Something remarkable was happening, something not defined by his mouth on hers or his strong, scarred body radiating desire. Ronan seemed to blaze from within. She felt his physical lust and an almost frightening sense of triumph—felt even though she made no attempt to touch his mind, even though she had done everything possible to avoid it.
She'd already guessed why he found her attractive. She saw no reason to change her mind. But in the sheer sensuality of this moment, surrendering to her own desire, she didn't care.
Ronan pulled her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead, her brows, her temple, punctuating each caress with tiny flicks of his tongue. She pushed her hand down the collar of his shipsuit. His skin was ridged with scar tissue and warm, so incredibly warm. His heart beat as fast as hers.
Those Kinswomen had viewed Ronan's lovemaking as a duty. She pitied them far more than she pitied him.
The muscles of his back shivered against her palm. He jerked his hands away and stared at her with cold, stranger's eyes.
"I do not want your pity."
She felt his hurt, the pride he held banked behind his humility, and began to apologize. Then she realized exactly what he had done.
"You read my thoughts," she said.
He was already halfway to the cabin door, one hand pressing his temple. "Yes."
"You heard me on Bifrost."
"It was like a voice calling from a great distance."
'Then it's as I suspected… you've begun to recover your telepathy." She turned the implications over in her mind. "On Bifrost I was projecting my thoughts, and you were passively receiving. But this time you picked up my surface thoughts even though I didn't
intend to send them."
"I am… sorry." He met her eyes anxiously. "I do not believe I can control it."
"It's nothing to fear, Ronan. Believe me. I thought something like this might happen—under the right circumstances." The right circumstances, indeed. "You aren't in pain?"
"No." His brows flattened over his eyes. "I am not certain what I feel."
Of course he wasn't. He was untrained, like a baby taking its first step. Yet even a baby could inadvertently toddle into something forbidden. Cynara made a thorough check on the shields Persephonean Kinsmen had embedded when she'd taken the captaincy. They held strong.
"Try again, Ronan. Focus on me, and try to read my thoughts."
He backed up against the door and closed his eyes. "You are thinking… of water. Great waves. The ocean on Dharma."
"That's exactly right. What else?"
"Your mother. She is not wearing a veil. She is singing to you… I don't know the words."
Cynara relaxed. The childhood melody her mother sang was in the language of Dharma's second largest city-state.
Ronan couldn't interpret it unless he was able to pierce her shield and enter her mind on a much deeper level.
"You ran to your mother because a boy had knocked you down and called you—" Ronan hesitated. "A female who sells her body?"
She had not intended him to see that much, but she wouldn't let him realize it. "The word is 'unveiled'—much like your 'unselected.' A woman who has not taken the veil at fifteen is regarded… poorly."
"You defied the rules of your society. You learned from your uncle those things females are not permitted to understand."
"I was what my father called a hellion." She waved distracting memory aside. "I want you to try something new. Say something to me, Ronan, but only with your mind."
He frowned. She felt the fury of his concentration, but nothing came through… no more than the emotions she already sensed.
"It's all right, Ronan," she said. "You've done enough today. I think you'd better return to your cabin and rest."
He seemed not to hear her. "Your brother is named Anson. Your cousin… Tyr—" He gasped. "Don't blame yourself, Cyn. It wasn't your doing."
Tyr's voice, down to the last inflection. Cynara flew at Ronan and grabbed his shoulders.
"Stop it! Do you hear me, Ronan?" She shook him hard, shouting without words. Get out of my mind!
He opened his eyes, and for a moment all she saw were black pupils and emptiness. Then he focused, knowledge seeping into his conscious mind and filling his gaze with pity.
"What happened to your cousin, Cynara?" he asked, touching her cheek with his fingertips. "What gift did he give you that brought so much pain?"
Luck. It must be luck, and carelessness on her part, that he'd been able to pry that memory from behind the shield. She backed away and sat down on the bed, shaking. "I'm sorry. I could have hurt you by using such force."
"I was not hurt." He knelt before her. "Your memory of your cousin brings great sorrow. Let me help."
Such compassion from a man raised by aliens, whose childhood had been a thousand times more difficult than hers. Thank God he didn't fully understand what had happened when Tyr died. "You can't," she said. "It's only a memory." She mastered her trembling and met Ronan's worried gaze. "You must remember one thing, Ronan. Never enter another person's mind uninvited."
"That is the Kinsman's law."
"And ours—those of us born to the gift on Dharma. You'll have every chance to learn."
He recognized the dismissal. He moved toward the door and paused, eyes fixed on the far bulkhead.
"I understand your grief," he said. "I care nothing for your world or its customs. Only for you, Cynara D'Accorso."
The door closed behind him before she could assemble a coherent reply. Once she was alone, she lay back on the bunk and threw her arm over her eyes, fighting die shameful desire to weep.
Shameful to her, or Tyr? Or to both of them, the wild girl grown to womanhood and the man who had been robbed of his life and his true destiny?
A cool nose brushed her cheek. She reached for Archie and pulled him onto her chest, savoring his uncomplicated loyalty.
"I always thought I knew what I wanted," she said into his fur. "I had no conception of life beyond Dharma, only a child's grand illusions. Tyr should have taught me better, but how much have I learned?"
Archimedes purred close to her ear and tapped her cheek with his paw. "On Dharma it was simple, wasn't it? I was a hellion, a rebel. Rebellion itself defined me. Where is my rebellion now, Archie? Who am I fighting?" She laughed. "Don't answer. I know exactly who my greatest enemy is. I'm the captain, a D'Accorso to my Dharman crew, equal or superior to everyone on board. Tell me why I want a stranger as I've never wanted anything in my life? Why do I insist on seeing myself in Ronan, and him in me?"
If Archie had an answer, he kept it entirely to himself.
The Pegasus had two scheduled stops on its way to Dharma, first at Scholar-Commander Adumbe's world, Nemesis, where they delivered a new reactor for the primary dome's life support system, and then at the struggling settlement on Matisse.
Nemesis was a harsh world, and its only city lay under domes requiring constant repair. The atmosphere was a vast cloud of ammonia and other toxic gasses. Outside the dome, the landscape was composed of lifeless volcanic rock. On the whole, the planet reminded Cynara of her own state of mind.
Adumbe disembarked to visit his family while Cargomaster Basterra saw to the offloading of the reactor and supporting equipment. All was as it should be except in one vital and very personal respect.
It was impossible for Cynara to pretend that nothing had • happened between her and Ronan. Their minds had opened to each other; she was constantly aware of him, even when he was not physically present.
Thank God he was only beginning to learn how to handle his abilities. As long as she remained alert, she could keep him from inadvertently skimming her thoughts. On Dharma, she hoped that Uncle Jesper would assume responsibility for Ronan and the problems he represented. Magnus Jesper Siannas had the power and influence to protect Ronan and see that he got the help he needed.
Then she could go back to routine, free and unencumbered. Or could she?
'The Nemesians couldn't survive if their life support system broke down," she said to Ronan as they stood at the aft viewport watching the Thalassa carry its payload into the planet's chaotic atmosphere. "Before the blockade, Concordat engineers were helping them strengthen the domes' systems. Now it's all we can do to keep them patched together."
"Why did humans choose such an inhospitable world to settle?" Ronan asked.
"The colony was founded by a woman who believed that only in isolation could she achieve the intellectual climate she wanted for her followers. On Nemesis there were no distractions from development of the mind. The Nemesians are curious by nature, but also very insular. Few would be willing to leave."
"Yet Adumbe did so."
There was more she could have told him about Adumbe and the contributions Nemesians had made to the Pegasus and its mission, but that topic cut too close to secrets she wasn't authorized to share. She was satisfied that she'd made a point: Humans helped each other, even when they faced almost overwhelming odds.
She took Ronan with her on the shuttle to Matisse, a planet well suited to human occupation. But the blockade had prevented the settlers from prospering. They were in desperate need of medical supplies that only the Concordat could provide. On this run, the Pegasus brought enough to arrest a particularly nasty illness attacking the colony's children and elderly.
The colonists greeted the landing party with great joy. Ronan moved among the patients like a shadow as Zheng and the colony's medics began to administer the vaccine in the tiny clinic. Once he knelt beside a little girl racked with shivers and laid his hand on her head in tender benediction. Cynara could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes.
Ronan remained very quiet w
hen they boarded the Pegasus. Dharma was a quick hop by wormhole from Matisse, but Cynara was not looking forward to journey's end. Ronan's predicament was very much on her mind. Uncle Jesper or no, Janek would be a very unpleasant opponent. And she'd still have to face the Council for debriefing before the Pegasus left on its next crossing.
Even before that gauntlet was run, her family would be waiting.
As the Pegasus entered the gravity well of Dharma's sun, small mining ships passed on their way to and from the asteroid belt, while others traveled to the cometary halo at the system's outermost borders. These vessels lacked the range to reach other star systems, but their work was essential to Dharma's economy. Dharma itself was metal-poor; the mining operations provided raw materials to be refined and shipped to the Concordat and the Nine Worlds.
The asteroid belt had provided an even greater source of wealth, for there miners had discovered the ancient wreckage of an alien ship—the source of the slingshot drive. The Pegasus, with its unique ability to evade shaauri warships, was Dharma's greatest hope… and the Trade Council's deepest secret.
Once in Dharma's system, the Pegasus would remain in a geostationary orbit above the planet while the Thalassa ferried crew and cargo to and from Dharma's surface.
Cynara, Janek, Kord, Basterra, Lizbet, Ronan, and a half-dozen Dharman crewmen would accompany the first cargo pallets to the planet's sole spaceport. Other crew members who wished to take leave could do so after the first contingent returned to duty.
Adumbe stayed aboard the Pegasus, as did Chief Antiniou. She'd requested certain parts for additional repairs to the drive; doubtless the Council would send its few Concordat-trained technicians to verify her work. Cynara almost regretted that she wouldn't be there to see the engineer's scathing reaction to their meddling.
Zheng had chosen to stay with Gunter until he was transported to the hospital in Elsinore. Lizbet Montague would probably have preferred to remain aboard as well, but she was the best qualified shuttle pilot, and Cynara never missed an opportunity to remind Basterra and his cronies that a lowborn woman could do something they couldn't.
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