by Imogene Nix
Her frame had been slightly rounded last year; now he would describe her as spare, bordering on thin, her long, black hair tied back in a braid, and her cold, violet eyes distant. Her bow lips pulled tight, and her skin, if it was possible, was paler than before. The uniform hung looser on her body than he remembered, and that disturbed him. A powerful wave of desire pulsed through him even as he fought the concern.
He’d been attracted before, but now, in close quarters, this woman made him want to grab her, to taste her lips, to find out if her body would fit him as perfectly as he suspected it would. “You need to control your libido, Raven.”
They had a week, and by the end of this deployment, if he didn’t have her in his arms, he knew it would be all the more difficult to achieve. She’d be on guard, and he needed to grab this opportunity with both hands. He just wasn’t sure why he needed to hold her. It wasn’t her sweet countenance; he nearly laughed out loud at that thought. He had a sneaking suspicion she practiced that persona to keep everyone at bay, with the real Jemma hidden beneath layers, far from view.
His body was tight from just being in the same room as her. He’d been constantly aroused around her from the first meeting on the Elector, and nothing had changed. She’d been given time, but now? Well, he would only wait so much longer. He turned and walked away.
Chapter 3
The wail of sirens woke Jemma with a start. She jackknifed up, thankful she’d slept in her uniform. She reached over and hit the commbutton, shivering from the cold in the bay. She shoved aside the grogginess that invaded her mind while she spoke. “What’s up?”
“Incoming, looks like five unfriendlies.”
Fuck! Grayson’s voice was tense but controlled. She wouldn’t have expected anything less. She jammed her feet into her boots, which were waiting by the side of the cot. She swayed but with determination battled back the unfamiliar sense of vertigo.
“Right, suiting up now!” She hit the commbutton and ran to her fighter, scrambling up the Raptor’s side and pulling on her helmet as she clambered into the craft. A quick depression of a small button on the console engaged the door-open sequence she had synchronized earlier on. Once more she toggled the communications button on her suit. “Elector, ready to deploy.” Her hands moved over the controls instinctively as she prepared for take-off.
“Acknowledged. Deploy.” Grayson was still at the command, though she knew he would have alerted Duvall. Right now, though, she needed more information. The shield from the Elector played havoc with the scanner range.
“Location of incoming?”
“Hard to port, looks like spooks.”
Damn. New and sleek, they belonged to the Phobos pirates. They could now afford the newest and fastest of interstellar fighters after the successful raids they had been pulling off.
Dropping the helmet’s visor into place, she allowed her craft to rise in the bay and punched the Raptor through the opening in the shields. “Commander? Close the shields. I’m on track to rendezvous with the spooks.”
She controlled the thrust until she had the craft safely beyond the Elector, then turned a tight spin over a wing and arrowed toward the side of the Elector she knew they were approaching from. They have probably scanned the Elector and know that we’re running on aux generator power only. God dammit! The thought ripped through her system while she worked on what she thought they would be thinking. Sitting duck? At the very least, they no doubt thought this too good an opportunity to let pass them by. But it also confused her. Wouldn’t they expect some kind of defense on this type of craft sitting out here in space?
She ran a perimeter check, waiting for the spook ships to enter range, checking that the shields were in place and nothing else incoming. The beep of the console told her when they finally arrived, and she considered their V formation as she held position.
“This ship is taken. Find your own.” For an opening gambit, it was probably a bit short, but they would get the message. She hoped so anyway.
“Ahh! The empire sends us a little girl! Move aside and allow us to access the ship. We have rights in this sector to salvage.” The voice started initially in the sing-song pattern of the Phobos inhabitants before settling in hard and cold.
“Sorry, boys, no salvage opportunities here. Move along.” She let her hand hover over the laser button, just in case she needed a quick shot across the bows to run them off. “Now!” She put everything into that one word.
No movement. Damn! They hadn’t flinched, but she really wasn’t surprised. Time to show them she meant business. She depressed the button, the laser fire coming within a breath of the leader’s wing. Fzzt!
He tilted away from the streak of light, just as she expected.
“What in Eshra’s name are you doing, Cardnew?” Duvall’s voice came through the headset. Damn. Pissed at her again.
She growled back into the headpiece. “Captain, I am letting them know you are not dead in the water. Now with all due respect—” The ship returned the shot. She spun to avoid contact. “—I’m a little busy here.”
“Interesting game, little girl. Maybe we should just...grab you too. We could always do with new and talented pilots.”
She growled. This bastard had no idea how pissed off she was getting as he commented to her in his sickly sweet voice.
“Back off. I won’t hesitate to put a hole between your eyes if you don’t break off now.”
“Cardnew! Jemma! Break off the encounter! Now!” Duvall demanded, his words coming through the secure commlink, and she clamped her mouth shut, breathing deeply as anger washed over her. His voice was firm and grim, matching her current mood.
She reined in her emotions, knowing what she needed to say. “With all due respect, Captain, I’m here to keep your ass safe. In this instance, my judgment overrules whatever you might want,” she answered through gritted teeth. I’m gonna catch hell for this. Too damn bad. She had a job to do, and she’d do it the best way she knew how.
God knew the last thing she needed right now was an all-out confrontation with anyone. Here she was, with a dead-in-the-water stealth ship, exhausted and getting more and more pissed by the moment, but she had to hold on to her temper. She narrowed her eyes, considering the ships in front of her. They had no intention of moving, so they were now at an impasse.
She had one new trick up her sleeve though. Although still experimental, the multiple acquisition program might just give them breathing time. Her mind debated at lightning speed. If you threaten it, you have to be able to use it, but once it is used, they’ll know you have the technology. The outcome could and probably would be more pirates next time.
She took a deep breath, flicked the cover off the tab, and depressed it. She knew the minute the targets realized their ships were tagged. They held firm for a just a moment, hanging in the dark inky blackness long enough, she guessed, to confirm they were all targeted, then as one they turned a tight spin, backing off. She let out her breath.
The one that baited her tossed his final comment, “We’ll be back!” at her. She watched them, breathing slowly in the silence as the ships disappeared from her radar screen.
This was just the beginning, and she knew they would be back in bigger numbers. A sense of urgency roused her. Time to get back to the ship and get an estimation on how soon they could move, or at least restart some of the engines. The longer they were there, the more dangerous their situation would become. The spooks would be back soon to find out the capability of the multiple acquisition—something she couldn’t afford to have happen without making sure she was ready. Her stomach heaved, and another wash of pain filled her head as the adrenaline slid from her system. With a swallow, she beat the nausea away but nothing shifted the ache in her skull.
She ran perimeter checks a little longer, putting off the minute of docking until she really needed to head back in, her fuel alarm beeping softly. She spun Raptor on its wing and headed for the temporary base.
* * * *
&n
bsp; Jemma powered down the Raptor and sat with her head inclined toward the control panel, her eyes burning. Her head throbbed, she shivered with cold, and the waves of nausea once more threatened to swamp her. She knew she had done what she had to but was worried that she had once more exceeded her authority and would have to face Captain McCord’s coldness. Sure, she knew that it had to be said, that her authority to protect the Elector overrode Duvall’s wishes, but she certainly didn’t expect him to take that well. She sighed heavily, disengaging her safety restraints.
She crawled out of the cockpit, slowly drawing off her helmet. She shook out the hair that had come undone in her sleep and groaned as dizziness assailed her. She wished she’d had time to tie it back before getting into the Raptor. She slid down the cold side of the craft and looked around. Duvall stood in the corner, a scowl on his darkly handsome face, like an avenging angel or grim reaper. Either description seemed appropriate. Behind him stood Mellissa, white-faced.
Jemma staggered briefly. For a minute, she remembered when she had first met him, sitting with Mellissa, the one person she had considered her friend and confidante.
She noticed how tense he was and dropped her helmet to the plascrete with a dull thud as she made her way toward him. Stopping just steps in front of him, she came to attention, knowing it was expected.
“Sir, with all due respect, I have a job to do and that means taking any and all steps necessary to ensure the safety of the Elector and her crew.” She waited tensely at attention, ready for the outburst of anger.
“Barsha, Jemma. Mellissa is beside herself, and you’re risking yourself too much.” He looked at her with sorrow in his eyes. Suddenly, a lump formed in her chest, growing larger and larger. She certainly hadn’t expected that.
The words shocked her, and she stood fighting the pain they caused, her stomach rolling with black waves of sickness. The lump lodged in her chest grew and threatened to suffocate her, stealing her breath. Her body burned again, and her head felt like it would burst. Her eyes filled with hot tears, the itchiness increasing. She raised her hands to her chest, pushing hard at the padding of her flight suit.
Duvall spoke again. “Jemma, we want you to be part of our team, and family. You’re Mellissa’s sister in every way that counts. Don’t continue on this path of self-destruction.” His expression softened, as did his voice.
She wanted to reach out, to grab what he offered. The fear grew though. What if she trusted them and she was let down again? A hiccup-sob escaped as a hot tear trickled down her face. She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to hold it all inside her, but the floodgates had opened.
She couldn’t cope. No more. Her body gave in.
A tear rolled down her face, then another, coming faster and hotter. Unable to stem the tide, she was consumed as another sob racked her. Knees giving out, she folded to the floor, clamping her head between two shaking hands.
She felt a movement, but her strength fizzled away, raising her head now so far beyond her consciousness as the well of pain and despair overcame her. She felt arms move around her. The paroxysm of grief drowned out the crooning even as she soaked up being rocked back and forth.
* * * *
Raven’s feet beat a heavy clanking on the decking as he entered the cargo bay. Jemma was on the ground sobbing while Mellissa rocked her back and forth, panic evident on her face. He made to move forward and stopped as he saw Duvall hit his commbutton.
“Elara, I need you in the shuttle bay, now.”
Jemma continued to cry, her slender body shaking, her pale face tinged with the red of a fever.
“What happened?” he demanded hoarsely, taking in what he could see of the situation and starting to move forward once more. Duvall held up a hand, and while Raven wanted—needed—to be sure she was all right, he saw something in his captain’s face that stopped him
The thud of feet moving down the decking with speed filled the air. Elara and Grayson burst into the bay. She carried a SurgiPack in her hands, her face tense. She pushed past Raven, heading directly for Jemma. Crouching down beside her, she flicked open her diag-alyser. A few seconds later she shook her head, lifting it to look at Duvall and Raven.
“Jemma needs rest, decent food, and a cabin, not to be sleeping in here.” She gestured toward the small cot by the wall. “If I don’t miss my guess, she’s also running a fever caused by a localized infection. We will need to find the wound site and deal with that. We can use my body scan in the SurgiTech suite, though I think that’s overkill. It’s something simple in most cases. We can treat this with a spectrum hypo-biotic. She’s also unfit for any missions at the moment.”
Her words were soft, but Raven heard them as clear as a bell ringing through the quiet sobs of the woman on the ground.
Elara stood slowly, motioning to Grayson and Raven. “We need to move her to one of the cabins. I don’t think the SurgiTech suite will be necessary at this time, unless her condition worsens. Is the shuttle pilot’s cabin vacant?” She cast a look at Grayson, who nodded. “Right, that’s about all we can do for now then. Move her in there, carefully. Be careful not to jar her, as with the infection her body will be achy and sore. We don’t want to make her feel worse. I’ll start a hypo-biotic, and we need to ensure she gets enough fluids while it takes effect. After that, she needs at least twenty-four hours rest.” Her mouth tightened.
“Chowd has been trained to fly these babies. I’ll get him to take over from her until you give her a clean bill of health.” Duvall’s face was grim, and Raven looked at him before moving to crouch before Jemma on the ground.
“I’ll take her.” Carefully slipping his hands under her hot body, he cradled her softly before turning with her in his arms. Mellissa stood, reached out, and touched his arm. He stilled until she nodded and let him carry the woman in his arms out of the bay.
Chapter 4
When Raven reached the cabin, he laid Jemma carefully on the bed, easing a sweaty strand of hair from her skin. He stripped off her boots and flight coverall, leaving on her crew uniform, his eyes ranging over her body.
Raven had time to spare. The matrix supports were still being cleaned and cooled, and a couple of his crewmembers could do it, leaving him free. Soon they would be ready for him to complete the repairs. The tricky point was, it would take a day for the area to be ready to start working on the mounts. Knowing there was really only room for one or at most two crewmembers to work had him concentrating on busywork. He rocked back on his heels as he mind spun in small circles of concern. No matter how he tried to block it out, it sat there, at the back of his mind, gnawing on any sense of well-being he’d garnered.
Elara came to apply the hypo-biotic, which would kick in soon, he hoped. The IV line was in place, but before Elara left she told Raven that Jemma would only need it for a few hours and then they could dispense with it. Mellissa and Duvall had both been needed on the bridge with Grayson, and Raven offered to stay and keep watch over this slight woman. His mind rolled back to the first time he had seen her, spitting all sorts of curses while he and Grayson had escorted her to another cabin.
“You were so angry and yet so beautiful at the same time.” A memory of her face, red with both shock and fury, rose before him, as did that of glittering violet eyes. Of course, that was nearly eighteen months ago now, and he’d seen her briefly at the academy several times since then.
He was aware she had no clue as the full ramifications Duvall had faced with his decision to bring her to the future. Raven knew that Duvall had been officially reprimanded for his actions and he’d come seriously close to demotion for bringing back extra people. He’d broken the rules to save Mellissa the hurt of knowing Jemma would die.
No, Jemma did not need to know that then or even now. It would be just one more weight on her slender shoulders. The knowledge left him with a niggling sense of disquiet.
He knew that she thought they’d dumped her at the academy. Unfortunately, she wasn’t allowed to be told the truth�
��that Duvall and Raven had needed to do some fancy footwork to get her placed there. Even Admiral Elphin had weighed in, ensuring she remained sequestered, just in case Crick Sur Banden ever decided she could be a chink in Duvall’s armor. Raven shook his head as he pulled up the hard chair next to the bed and settled himself down to watch over her.
Crick Sur Banden continued to be a problem, growing more and more bold with intermittent incursions and daring raids. Both the Admiral and Duvall had agreed that the academy was the safest place for Jemma. It was fortified and essentially a military base. Raven had kept an eye on her, thankful that his parents’ role there had made it easier for him to monitor her. His added associations with some of the professors had opened doors that should have been closed to him.
He knew she couldn’t hear him, so he let himself say aloud some of the things he’d felt over the last long eighteen months. “If only you knew. We’re so proud of you, Jemma. I’m damned proud of you. Very few could have been thrust into that kind of situation and flourished like you have.”
Her commitment and work had rocketed her through the system at the academy and into the Combat Pilot program, an almost unheard-of feat. Then she had achieved her placement to the Alpha Squadron, the most highly contested placement, only offered to the best of the best. He was proud of her, so damn proud.
He reached out and touched her hair, feeling the softest of silk against his fingertips. She murmured and moved restlessly. He wanted to pull her closer to him. He wanted to soothe her restless movements. He turned his head away and drew a breath, settling deeper into the chair as he continued to watch her sleep. Her restless tossing and turning finally became peaceful as the hypo-biotic took effect, and she slid into a quiet, healing sleep.
