Devoted Deceptions, A 4th Millennium Adventure, Book 3

by Cherie Singer

  Cat held her head in her hands. A moot question until the babe was found, was it not? And poor little Morgan, who tried so hard to be brave. She blew out a breath in a slow, steady stream. Cat focused her thoughts on the waiting task instead of the Bellon rage growing inside her. The rage demanded revenge on the person responsible for stealing her children and tried to break her concentration.

  She inserted the data chip Lyon had provided, scanned the list. Twenty-three ships from nineteen different worlds. A long, rough course of elimination. She chose a ship and opened a comm channel.

  One after another, ten disappointments followed rapidly on the heels of the one before. Each new letdown became harder to take than the previous. Every setback fed the growing rage and panic.

  The eleventh ship on the roster, the Bastet, claimed Grimale, Seleen's homeworld, as her port of origin. The Bastet's captain gave Cat her first real flash of hope.

  `Yesss, Commander. When I ssshowed the image of the cubsss and their nurssse to my crew, my sssecond officer thought he recognized them.' The Grimalkan captain blinked her eyes in a slow movement while her muzzle whiskers twitched.

  "Does your officer remember where he saw them?"

  The feline captain ran a bright pink tongue over sharp incisors. `On Uhlein, docking ring alpha, level two.'

  Cat's breath hitched in her chest. Fallon and the children shouldn't have been anywhere near alpha ring. Wait a minute. Hadn't the Orion been assigned to alpha ring? Wheeler! "Did he notice anything else?"

  `Only that none of the three ssseemed upssset and that they were in the company of a Ssspace Corps officer.'

  "Can your second describe the officer he saw?"

  The Grimalkan shook her head. `My officer didn't pay much attention. He remembersss only that the officer wasss male and Ssspace Corps.'

  "I appreciate your help, Captain." He could be anyone. Still, the image of Wheeler's face hovered in the back of her mind.

  `We wisssh you good fortune in your sssearch, Commander.'

  The comm screen went dark. An outside source of jumbled emotions seeped into Cat's consciousness to join her own. She looked up to find Wulfe standing in the doorway between the quarters and his office. So tall and handsome. Cat nodded in the direction of the comm unit. "Did you hear?"

  "Aye," Wulfe answered. "Did the Grimalkan tell you the truth?"

  "I sensed no deceitful intentions, no emotions to indicate she tried to hide anything."

  "Good. Do you intend to ask me the question that must be on your mind?"

  She hadn't, because the Grimalkan would have remembered someone of Wulfe's imposing size. Besides, if Wulfe ever decided to take the children away from her, he'd do it openly without a thought to covering up the deed. But his attitude raised her hackles. Once out in the open, the question could be put behind them, releasing them both to move on. "Are you the Space Corps officer the Grimalkan saw with Fallon and the children?"

  With a jolt, Cat realized part of her wanted him to answer with a yes so this nightmare of uncertainty could end. The agony of not knowing the location and circumstance of her children grew more intolerable with every heavy heartbeat.

  Whoever had taken the children failed to understand the Bellon drive to protect their offspring. Insuring the safety of future generations--the priority of every female Bellon--called for the right of vengeance. "Are you the one?"

  "No." His dark gaze traveled over her face. One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless twist. "Feel better?"

  "No. If you were responsible, I'd be angrier than Garesh denied a soul in the Underworld, but at least I'd know whom to blame, and I'd have some reassurance they were safe. Right now, I don't have that guarantee."

  Chapter 15

  WULFE SAT ON the bridge of his ship, his thoughts light-years away, dwelling on his failure. He'd contacted twenty-eight Space Corps captains. Only one had seen Fallon and the children. Erich Wheeler. Wheeler had said his goodbyes to Fallon on Uhlein's alpha docking ring a few minutes before his vessel left the station.

  That explained the Grimalkan second officer seeing Fallon there with the children, but Wheeler had no idea where the young nurse had taken Morgan and Garrett after he parted company with them. Wheeler wanted to return to the station and conduct a personal investigation for them, but Wulfe couldn't allow the newly promoted captain to disregard orders from Command.

  Others had already joined in the time-consuming search for the children, including Roy Flemming. Flemming had ordered the Falchion on her present course to take care of Space Corps business. Space Corps didn't come to halt because three people were missing. In return, the admiral himself sent out formal top command requests for information regarding Garrett and Morgan, and tapped into his own private sources of information. Now they had to wait for results.

  "Incoming transmission, Captain."

  Wulfe squared his shoulders, braced for bad news--the only kind lately. He swivelled his captain's chair enough to see Seleen at her station. "Who's the message from?"

  Seleen's muzzle whiskers stilled as she concentrated on her control panel. "The signal's breaking up. I'm reading...must be a weak power source." The tip of her feline tail flicked straight up over her left shoulder. "Got it. Origin of the signal is...Sisyphus. They are under attack."

  "Sisyphus? Not much there except--" Wulfe moved his focus beyond Seleen, to her left where he found Cat posted at the science station, the last place his mate probably wanted to be. She must ache worse than he did to go after the children. After all, she remembered everything about Garrett and Morgan.

  Cat scanned her data screen before looking up. She met his gaze and nodded. "Another mining operation. They don't have what the Mallochons are after, nor do they maintain much in the way of planetary defenses. The Mallochons will kill off the population of Sisyphus out of spite and retaliation."

  Wulfe faced forward and spared his helm officer and Jinny Riordan at Ops quick glances while containing his loathing of the Mallochons. They must all react with efficiency, not emotion. "Time to Sisyphus?"

  "Eleven minutes, thirty seconds," Riordan responded.

  "Do it in eight. Seleen, sound yellow alert. Go to long-range sensors, do a full sweep. Monitor all comm frequencies."

  Cat appeared at his right shoulder, her face drawn and tight, her demeanor unnaturally subdued. "Time to scramble the fighters, Captain."

  Wulfe paused as though considering her words, but one simple fact burned through his thoughts: training exercises were one thing, a direct conflict with the Mallochons another entirely. "Aye. Have Lieutenant Lyon launch half the squadron."

  "Half? But I--"

  "I need you here, Commander." He readied himself for the expected argument.

  "As the captain prefers."

  Guilty, selfish relief he couldn't openly express swept through him, racing far ahead of the surprise. "The captain definitely prefers."

  Wulfe divided his attention between the view screen, listening to Cat pass the orders on to Lyon, and the concise intermittent status reports from Seleen and Riordan.

  "Coming out of hyperspace in ten, Captain," Riordan said.

  "Sensors show one Mallochon ship, heavy cruiser class, standard weapons, actively firing on Sisyphus," Seleen added.

  "Fighters ready to launch, Captain," Cat informed him. "Our squads will make their first hit before the Mallochons know the Falchion is on top of them. Four. Three. Two."

  "Normal space," Riordan cued the bridge officers.

  "Fighters away." Cat secured the tiny comm link in her left ear, giving herself a direct tie-in to the fighters without interfering with conversation on the bridge. She watched the large view screen with intense concentration. "Seleen, may I have a tactical grid on a secondary screen?"

  "Aye, Commander."

  "Red alert to all stations." From the corner of his eye, Wulfe saw Cat's attention shift from the grid, to the actual visual of the scenario being played out over the small planet of Sisyphus, and back to the
grid. Twice, Mykal Lyon wedged his fighter between one of the young pilots and the vicious attack of the Mallochon vessel. Both times, Cat's sharply indrawn breath rankled Wulfe's already peevish temper.

  He crushed the honorless thought that if Lyon died in battle, Cat would only mourn Lyon's loss and blame herself for not flying with the squadron. She'd blame him, too, for keeping her behind, though she might never voice the accusation. His jealousy abated when he realized how much he'd miss Mykal--as a crew member and friend--if something happened to him.

  The Mallochon cruiser turned her fire power on the Falchion. The less graceful Mallochon ship was no match for the combination of the League's beefed-up shielding, the starcruiser's speed, or the darting hit-and-run strategy of the fighter squadron.

  Nine minutes later, the Falchion and her horde of fighters had inflicted enough damage on the Mallochon ship to convince her captain to leave Sisyphus alone. The ship retreated, too damaged to have her shrouding system engaged, and Wulfe recalled the fighters. He squelched the urge to go in for the kill. He'd not be the one responsible for full-blown war. Besides, he had to get teams down to the surface. The civilian population would be desperate for help.

  Wulfe tempered the jubilation of the bridge crew. "We got lucky because we took them by surprise. It won't be so easy the next time around. And prepare yourselves, for this won't be the last violent encounter with the Mallochons."

  "Captain!"

  Wulfe snapped his head around at the urgency in Seleen's voice. "Yes?"

  "Life support on the Mallochon ship is failing. Rapidly. She is incapable of entering hyperspace."

  Cat, still standing close, gripped his shoulder. "I feel the same way you do, Captain, but we have no alternative."

  Wulfe knew she was right; she'd driven her point home merely by calling him captain, but reality left a caustic taste in his mouth. "Seleen, contact the Mallochon ship and advise them we are willing to offer sanctuary to any crew member agreeing to come aboard unarmed."

  "Aye, Captain."

  Thirty seconds went by. "Anything, Seleen?"

  "No, Sir. Wait a moment...ah, we have been invited to take a one-way excursion into the Underworld...stars!"

  The Falchion's main viewing screen blazed with the explosion of the Mallochons ship.

  Cat gasped. "Death screams," she whispered hoarsely in his ear.

  His hand covered hers where it clenched his shoulder. "The fools would rather die than submit." Sickened by the idea that a ship commander would murder his own crew, Wulfe resorted to action.

  He motioned to the lift with a jerk of his head. "You want to go down to the surface with me, Cat?"

  "No." Her voice sounded cool, remote, concise, an obvious effort to reconcile herself with what had just happened. "You go. I need to check on damages and injuries to the flight teams. Manahan's fighter barely managed to limp back. Then I plan to contact Uhlein's commander. I want him to review his security logs of the docking rings."

  "Good idea. Get hold of me if you receive any news."

  Cat looked up into his face. Worry shadowed the delicate skin beneath her amber eyes. "If you'd like."

  Wulfe transported to the surface of Sisyphus, taking a crew of security team members and several repair technicians. Entire medical teams would transport down immediately after them, to assist the local physicians' efforts to treat the wounded. He met with the local leaders of the mining community, listened to their concerns and gratitude for the Falchion's help.

  Sisyphus had been settled two centuries earlier by a varied assortment of miners, mining engineers, geologists and their families from nearly thirty different worlds. Two-hundred years ago, the Sisyphus system had been isolated and life had been difficult for the founding families. The network of inhabited worlds in this sector had grown and expanded in recent decades, and Sisyphus started to thrive and draw new settlers.

  The most recent generations of Sisyphus grew affluent on the minerals and metals their world produced. They'd taken that wealth and transformed a rough, inhospitable world no one else had wanted into the garden spot of their star system. A spot they'd believed to be far from the harsh realities of conflict or war.

  Until today, when eighty-seven people died at the hands of the Mallochons. Another one-hundred-and-fifty-six had varying degrees of injuries. All the buildings of one settlement were gone, blown to oblivion, half of another village had vanished the same way.

  Wulfe viewed a portion of undamaged landscape as though through Cat's point of view. He looked over the hilly, fertile terrain filled with the blues and grays of native grasses and foliage. The silver and turquoise of lake waters sparkled in the luminous sunlight. Gray and black rocks dotted the shores. The wild beauty helped him order his thoughts. Cat would absorb these surroundings, rejoice in the experience. She delighted in seeing new worlds and flourished in the challenges they offered.

  Another memory? His heart missed a beat. Oh, aye, in one quick flash he'd remembered that adventure-loving part of Cat well enough. He couldn't yet name the place or time, but in his mind's eye, he saw the wonder reflected in her eyes as she watched a glorious sunrise on some wild, alien world. Her pure joy was no less beautiful than nature's inspiring show, and she shared the joy with him.

  He and Cat had recently brought a son into the universe, so they must have had some good times in the not-so-distant past. If only he could remember everything. One thing he did know; after all these years, after the bad times and the heartaches he did recall, she touched his heart, his mind and his soul with profound effect, on levels he couldn't even begin to understand. Cat scorched him with the explosive power of wildfire brandy, transported him with the ecstasy of passion wine.

  Why hadn't time granted him immunity to her? That, after all, had been his great master plan when he'd Abandoned her eight years ago. Abandonment. Had his flagrant retaliation prompted Cat to sever the mental bond intentionally? Easier to die a dishonorable death than to rid his system of this woman; he knew that now. In reality, he wanted to do neither.

  Wulfe watched a gracefully winged insect flutter through the sparkling air, its wings iridescent shades of golds and hints of greens. The colors reminded him of Cat's glorious amber eyes. Suddenly, he couldn't wait to get back to her.

  He left the away teams on the surface to finish their rebuilding and healing, and transported back to the ship. With any amount of luck or blessings from the Creator, Cat may have heard something about the children.

  Nora Albright met him outside the Falchion's main transport chamber. She talked with Frank Ellery, the transport chief in low tones, then turned to face Wulfe, her expression tight, closed. Professional. Her Earther-blue eyes held worry, though.

  Wulfe's heart plunged to the level of his knees. "What's happened?"

  "Catherine's waiting for you in your office."

  He swallowed past the heaviness suddenly blocking the back of his throat. "She hear something about the children? Have they been harmed? Tell me!"

  Albright shook her head. "As far as I know, she's heard nothing about Garrett and Morgan, but she did receive a message from someone. May I put in my two credits worth?"

  "If you hurry."

  "Captain, I know Catherine is a strong woman, but I'm worried about her. Did you know that an Erosian can go mad when the mental link with her mate is traumatically severed?"

  "No." Part answer, part denial.

  "Neither did I until Moira told me a few minutes ago."

  Wulfe left Albright behind, raced through the corridors, up the decks, cursing the slowness of his own two legs and the Falchion's lifts.

  SHIVERING, CAT huddled into a corner of Wulfe's big chair behind his desk, her legs curled under her. The chair Wulfe filled so completely made her feel like a child in stature. The faint smell of aged leather surrounded her in the dark green room. Wulfe's office usually comforted her. Not this time.

  She turned to face the corridor entrance, toward the wave of concern breaking through the doo
rway just ahead of Wulfe. How could she tell him what she must? She'd used her last dram of strength over the course of the previous few days, had nothing left to give.

  "What's wrong, Cat? Is it the children?"

  She swung her legs out to the deck, stood to meet him. "I took a message from Roy Flemming." Cat fought to say the words without allowing her voice to quake. She crossed to the dispenser. "Wildfire brandy. Two."

  "By the gods, tell me."

  Cat took the tumblers, handed one to Wulfe. "Drink."

  Wulfe looked at the drink, at her, then downed part of the ration, set the glass on the corner of his desk. "How bad is this? Don't leave me hanging out here by myself, Cat."

  She took a sip herself, saved the larger portion for later. Maybe the brandy would help to numb the unbearable pain beginning to settle in. If she broke now, she'd never be able to glue the pieces of her mind back together. Madness would claim her without a battle. "Space Corps received a report of another Mallochon attack."

  "Mining colony?"

  "No." She could barely get the word past the ache in her throat. "The Yataghan has disappeared."

  Wulfe's expression reflected a second of blank incomprehension before understanding shocked the color from his face. "My brother's ship? Impossible!"

  "I hope you're right." Her hand shook on the way to her mouth, sloshed brandy over the rim. She waited until Wulfe picked up his glass, finished his drink and put the tumbler down again. She placed her empty glass next to his and stepped into his reaching arms. "If I could change the news, I would."

  "I know." He held her close. "Has this been confirmed?"

  Cat rested her cheek against his breastbone, heard his deep voice rumble through to her. Grief threatened to tear her apart inside. "The witness making the report--a Bartern trader by the name of Sennog--said the Yataghan and the Moon Maiden were both destroyed with no known survivors."

  Wulfe's arms went still as stone around her for the space of a heartbeat. "Cass's ship, too?"