“Not sexually.” Kohia tightened her arms and legs around him, her back hard against the wall. “Although I don’t mind playing games.” The man holding her up swore under his breath. She grinned faintly, but the impulse to tease faded quickly. “My mate has to be able to defeat me in a fight. I haven’t met a man who can yet. I thought my tiger felt the same…” Why had her tiger ceased to insist on a mate who could defeat her? She’d fought every other man who Kohia had hoped might be a potential mate. Yet, now, the tiger adored Nairo.
“You’ve forgotten to listen to your tiger’s instincts,” he chided her.
She’d have pulled back in offence, but with the wall at her back, she couldn’t.
Nor would Nairo let her go. “I am the deadliest person aboard this starship, on Earth, in this sector of the galaxy,” he whispered. “I told you that earlier. Every positive has its negative. That’s what balances the universe. That’s how sha energy remains creative and sustains life. The same shamanic talent that enables me to heal means that I can kill, with a thought, from a distance. Every living thing has an aura, a pattern of sha energy weaving through it. I can snuff out that aura in a heartbeat, simply tear it to pieces, and then, I can use that sha energy for my own purposes. Your tiger recognized me, Kohia. I am the apex predator in your life.”
He stepped back, releasing her.
She unwrapped herself from him, gaze unwavering. “But physically…”
“You think I can’t beat you in a fight?” His smile was thin and unamused.
Her muscles locked. She struggled to move. She couldn’t twitch a finger. Even her eyes wouldn’t roll to keep him in view.
He walked around her once, making a point. Then he leaned in, mouth against her ear. “I own you.”
He walked away.
Her muscles unlocked. Her body was her own again—or was it? “I own you,” he’d said. She shuddered under a flood of roaring, overwhelming desire. She’d challenged Nairo to prove his dominance over her, and he had.
Now, it took every ounce of control for her not to hunt him down and claim him as her mate.
Chapter 5
The crew ate quickly and separated. They needed to process what they’d seen in the mine. Some would hit the gym, others would compose messages to partners and family back on Corsairs, and Belinda would lose herself in an engineering project Clarke would have ready for her.
Kohia sat with Nairo and Sean at the table in the recreation cabin and planned their next move.
Sean had information for her. While the incursion team had been going through decontamination, he’d identified two thirds of the prisoners. “Half of them lied about their names.”
From studying the information he’d found on them, the reason was clear: the prisoners’ true identities were unlikely to incline anyone to help them.
“They’re all human, Freel and Sidhe criminals.” Kohia read the list of crimes for which they’d been imprisoned. She even recognized a couple of names, although their monikers were more familiar. “Butcher Verron. He was the whisperer, the one who informed me that a ship was due.”
“He was a clever guy in his day, and an evil bastard,” Sean said.
Kohia glanced at Nairo. He wasn’t studying the screen. “You’re not surprised?”
“Sean already shared the information with me, and with Clarke. We’ve spoken about what it means.”
Kohia included Sean in her scowl. “Enlighten me. Sorry.” She put a hand on Nairo’s knee. He sat beside her. “I’m upset, but not with you. We came all this way to close down the prison camp and rescue these guys, only to learn that if I’d known who they were, I’d have shot most of them on principle. We could still—”
“Kohia,” Nairo began.
“This one.” She stabbed at a face onscreen with its prison-photo profile. “What he did to those children on Station Ensign, he deserves the flames of an eternal hell.”
“Yes, he does,” Nairo agreed. “But there are innocent men in the mine.”
She got up, trying to walk off her fury; at least sufficiently that she could think through the blinding red haze. “If you mean the guards, you’re wrong.”
“He means Rajiv Henderson,” Sean said. “The environmental activist from humanity’s fourth planet, Gemini. The planet’s largest corporation had a contract to build housing on its rainforest islands.”
She hurried back to the table to lean over the screen. “That was him? He saved thousands of people, and the habitat on the islands. The area was geologically unstable, a fact the government of the nation that claimed the islands concealed from the public. Rajiv uncovered corruption and…oh no.” She sat and swung her legs over the bench seat, sliding in beside Nairo. “He went missing.”
“And turned up in a death camp,” Sean concluded. “That’s not coincidence. My guess is that someone paid to have him not just vanish, nor simply die, but to suffer first. Rajiv’s dedication to the cause and the activist group he created exposed the corporation on Gemini to a level of scrutiny they couldn’t survive. Three of their executives went to jail. The chairman escaped the planet.”
“Presumably with enough wealth stashed away that he could afford revenge,” Kohia growled.
Sean swiped the screen, and the information and photos vanished. The surface once more resembled wood grain. He stretched and yawned hugely. “If you cross-match the known mine prisoners with the economic status of their victims’ families, you’ll find that each had crossed paths with someone capable of buying revenge. The prisoners were all found guilty of the crimes they were charged with and sent to prison. But the prisons were Meitj-approved.”
Kohia groaned and cracked her neck. The Meitj were one of Galaxy Proper’s founding member species. They were also incredibly moral and fair, and held that all life had value and deserved respect. Prisons approved by Meitj inspectors would not satisfy any victim’s family who wanted revenge. “So interested parties paid to have the prisoners moved to somewhere the prisoners would suffer more than imprisonment and rehabilitation. I can understand the motivation.”
Nairo put a hand to the base of her neck and began a slow, deep massage. “Except that whoever is running this operation also takes people like Rajiv.”
Kohia sighed, both at the difficulties of what they’d uncovered on Earth, and for the sheer pleasure and relief his touch gave her. “None of this changes what we need to do. We wait till the starship has landed, then we order them to submit. Sean, best guess. Will they abort their approach if the guards at the mine don’t respond to a transmission? Could you intercept it and fake a response?”
He yawned, again. “Given the storms and the radiation planetside, plus the guards’ casual response to Belinda taking out their electrical system, I’d guess that a failure to respond wouldn’t be enough to turn back the starship. Not when they’re this far from anywhere. In my opinion, we’re safer risking no response than a fake one that might trigger suspicion.”
“Okay. You’re the expert.”
“Uh huh,” her intelligence officer said, not very intelligently.
“You need to sleep, Sean. No more stimulant drinks.” Kohia smothered her own yawn. She’d napped aboard the shuttle, but true sleep was impossible during the decontamination process. “Automate the tracking of the starship. I want two hours warning of it reaching missile range. Issue a combat alert at that point.” She clasped Nairo’s hand. “We all need sleep.” She pulled him with her, out from the table and into the passage, barely acknowledging Sean’s assent to her orders.
“Are you sure?” Nairo pressed their clasped hands against his mouth.
“Just sleep.” She smiled tiredly. “I need to be awake for what you’re thinking.”
“Technically—”
She bumped her shoulder against his chest. “You can tease me later. For now, I need you to hold me and keep away the nightmares.” They were at her cabin. She opened the door.
He followed her in. “I can’t scare away nightmares, but I’
ll be here for you.” He pushed her gently down till she sat on the bunk, before kneeling and taking off her boots, then his own.
They left their utility suits on in case they needed to react to an emergency. She shuffled to the side of the bunk, pressed against the bulkhead, and he fitted himself into the remaining space in the narrow bed.
Kohia’s composure broke. Outside the cabin, she had to be the tough pirate captain. Her crew depended on her strength and sanity. But in Nairo’s arms, she could simply be herself, and she was hurting. The prisoners in the mine were mostly monsters, but not even monsters deserved the agony of radiation sickness. When you added in that some of the men who’d suffered there were good people, incredibly unjustly punished for acting with justice and integrity, then the horror grew worse.
“It’s not just the prisoners or the fact the death camp exists on Earth…Nairo, in the mine I kept imagining my suit ripping open, the radiation reaching me, the sickness. I’ve never felt fear like that. The ground above me pressed down and my fear of the prisoners’ sickness choked me.”
“You’re safe, now. The medbot scanned you and all the incursion team. You’re healthy. The suits protected you. And I’ve checked your auras. You and your crew are safe, Kohia.”
She nodded against his throat. She couldn’t burrow any closer to him without taking off their clothes. Instead, she concentrated on his scent, the steadiness of his pulse, and the feel of his hand smoothing up and down her back, trying to soothe her. “Could you heal me, if my suit had ripped and I’d been exposed to Earth’s radiation?”
His hand froze. His whole body tensed. “No. I expected the question before I boarded the Stealth, but you never asked. I came to believe that you maybe knew…” He readjusted them until he lay on his back and she sprawled over him. He resumed his slow, calming caress the length of her spine. “I was present onboard a passenger starship when a private courier called in an emergency. There were two people on the courier starship. They’d encountered unmapped space debris at the edge of a starlane between the Sidhe trading planet of Samanth and Station Oberon. The damage to their starship was insidious. They thought they’d repaired the worst of it, only to find that the radiation sensor had been damaged and hadn’t shown the mega doses of radiation they’d been soaking in. When the man grabbed a spacesuit to go outside and finish repairs, that’s when he got a true reading of what they’d been sitting in.”
“Awful.” And the man would have realized his partner was just as exposed. Just as damned.
“The Galactic Police have a base on Station Oberon. The Space Guard’s base is right next to it. The passenger cruiser forwarded the details of the courier’s situation and the Space Guard sent a cutter to retrieve the courier. I was asked if I could try healing them when I reached the station. They had the couple in an isolation chamber. As long as I could see them, I didn’t need to go in to view and alter the sha energy flows in them to heal them. Except that there was no healing the damage. It was both too extensive and too complete on a cellular level.”
Nairo stopped. “Hearing my horror story isn’t going to help your nightmares.”
“Finish it,” she said briefly.
His chest rose and fell deeply beneath her. “Even if I could have healed the damage to the couple, they were, themselves, radioactive. Sha energy can’t cancel out or convert radiation or drain it away. If we’re fast enough, shamans can put up a protective sha energy bubble to prevent radiation reaching us. We wear it like a spacesuit, although it takes concentration to maintain. But we can’t directly affect radiation. So with the couple from the courier, even if I’d been able to repair the damage to their bodies, as fast as I did so, the radiation they carried would damage them all over again. It was a battle I couldn’t win.”
“I’m sorry.” She kissed the base of his throat, sharing comfort rather than desire. “It was brave of you to join the mission, knowing what waited on Earth.”
“I’ve come to terms a long time ago with the fact that I can’t heal everyone.”
His words were tough, but she felt his anger and regret at his helplessness. She slid off him, tucking herself to the side and resting her hand on his chest. As she fell into sleep, she knew that he remained awake, staring into the darkness at his own nightmares.
Chapter 6
“It’s a trampship,” Sean reported in response to Kohia’s request for an update. He’d woken her two hours before the approaching starship’s steady progress would bring it into missile range. Nairo had kissed her and retreated to his own cabin, leaving her to focus on the Stealth’s mission. She was in the recreation cabin, grabbing coffee and a granola bar. He was on the bridge. The crew, apart from Clarke and Belinda who were in engineering, had gathered around the dining table.
“Suit up,” Kohia told them. “Prepare for a hostile boarding.”
Excitement tingled on the air. The Stealth was part of Corsairs’ pirate fleet, but the corvette’s small size, speed and ability to avoid detection, tended to place it in intelligence gathering roles. To actually board an enemy starship was a rare treat.
Kohia leaned her butt against the table, ate her breakfast and finished the last of her coffee with a gulp. In the best case scenario, her crew wouldn’t need to board the trampship. It depended on whether or not its crew were prepared to be reasonable. Fortunately, part of a pirate captain’s training was in the art of negotiation. A starship grounded and under missile-lock would have every incentive to surrender. She’d spell out the benefits, and then, the conditions of their capitulation.
She joined Sean on the bridge.
He sat in the co-pilot’s chair, the screens displaying various data and scans of their environment. “I’d have liked to maintain visual, or at minimum, auditory surveillance inside the mine. An oversight on my part. I should have sent you down with that kit.”
“We didn’t anticipate sitting in orbit waiting on a new batch of prisoners.” Kohia shrugged philosophically. “The guards’ weapons are gone. Even if they attempt to prepare an ambush for us on our return, what can they do?”
“Or we could wait and leave the Galactic Police to recover them,” Sean suggested. “Speaking of whom, do you want to record your message to them while we wait for the trampship?”
She sighed and slouched in her chair. “I hate talking to those jerks.”
“Your cousin is one of them,” Sean reminded her, because he could be a jerk, too.
“Did you have to mention the family’s shame?” Kohia teased. In reality, she respected her cousin Fergus’s decision to break with the shifters’ tradition of piracy and go work for the enemy. It hadn’t been easy for Fergus to earn his acceptance among the police ranks.
She thought of her other cousin, Jaya, who was now one of only two Shaman Justices in the galaxy and working directly for the Galactic Court. “Sean, when you send my message to the Galactic Police, copy it to Cyrus and my cousin, Jaya.” Cyrus was Corsairs intelligence chief, Sean’s boss. The reason for keeping Cyrus in the loop as to happenings on Earth was obvious. If something went wrong—if more of the local garrison of Galactic Police were in on the secret of the death camp’s existence than Kohia anticipated—then ensuring Cyrus had the information meant it would be acted on even if the worst happened to the Stealth and its crew. “Jaya discovered the prison camp. She deserves to know what’s happening here, and if we need it, she has her own political influence to ensure it’s closed down.” Not that Jaya seemed comfortable with her unique role in shaping the future of Galaxy Proper.
Kohia recorded her message, including images of the prisoners’ pitiable condition from her combat suit’s recorder, along with Sean’s findings as to their identities. She emphasized the fact that environmental hero, Rajiv Henderson, was among them. The presence of innocent people meant the existence of the death camp should not be swept under the carpet. The person masterminding the operation had to be caught and punished. Then she added the information as to the newly arriving batch of prisoner
s and demanded that the Galactic Police get its ass into gear and come and take charge of the situation.
“You’ll need isolation chambers for a hundred people,” she added. There were slightly less than that in the mine, and probably the numbers would drop further as the sickest died. Nairo had warned her from his experience in disaster emergency relief that people could cling to life through appalling conditions, only to die when rescue arrived. It was as if they felt safe to let go.
No one wanted to die alone.
She finished the message, played it back, and nodded, satisfied. The delay in transmitting and receiving messages through space meant she’d have to wait seven to eight minutes for the Galactic Police to receive her transmission. Sean would mark it urgent, so it oughtn’t to be ignored, but even then, the police would need time to decide their response, with another eight minutes of lag time before Kohia received it. As a consequence, Kohia would still be making all the real-time decisions on Earth, even after Sean opened communications with the Galactic Police.
The trampship landed heavily by the mine entrance. The bleak weather with its driving wind had eradicated all sign of the Stealth’s shuttle’s previous presence. The newcomers were broadcasting a demand that the guards in the mine get their act together and send up a wagon to take the new prisoners.
“Idiots,” Kohia muttered. With transmissions down the obvious course of action was for someone from the trampship to go in person to alert the mine guards to the trampship’s arrival. However, its crew’s laziness gave Kohia’s team ample time to initiate their mission.
Clarke’s voice came over the Stealth’s internal network, as calm as ever. “Missile lock achieved.”
Meantime, Sean had identified the trampship. He lifted the jamming of transmissions to and from Earth.
“Starship Yarrow,” Kohia said over tight beam. “You are under missile-lock. Do not take any action. Any attempt to launch will be treated as hostile action. We can and will destroy you. Do you understand?” She indicated for Sean to send her pre-recorded message to the Galactic Police, Cyrus and Jaya.
Shattered Earth (Shamans & Shifters Space Opera Book 3) Page 5
