Shadower (7 page)

"I give you my word of honor I won't reveal the location of this settlement to anyone."

"Your word of
honor?
What would that be, exactly, Moriah/Mara? The honor of thieves? Somehow I find it very hard to accept the word of someone who lies about her identity."

His words stung her pride. Despite the fact that she had operated under numerous false aliases, Moriah never went back on her word once she gave it. Of course, if semantics colored what she was promising a little differently from what the other party believed the agreement to be, that was their problem. But, unlike her father and Pax—shadowers, the scum of the galaxy—she did have a code of honor. Which was probably a lot more than she could say for Sabin Travers.

Noticing his attention had wandered below her face, she raised her manacled hands to jerk her sagging flightsuit up over her breast. "The name is Moriah. Moriah Cameron. My word is good. And
you
owe
me.
It's your fault I'm here. If you hadn't interfered in Giza's—"

His gaze snapped back up to meet hers. "Interfered? I saved your hide, as I recall."

"I was holding my own. Then you detained me on your ship, and my ride left without me. That was my only way off Calt, since my ship had been stolen."

"Your ship was stolen? Now that's very interesting." His eyes gleamed as he considered this information. Moriah suspected his annoying nonchalance hid a light-speed intelligence, making him a dangerous opponent. "Of course," he continued, "if you hadn't been on Calt, that wouldn't have happened. You take your chances, lady. So why did you choose to stow away on my ship? You had no idea where I might be headed."

She considered how much to tell him. She had learned giving as much of the truth as possible was better than offering lies. The impression of honesty gave her credibility. The trick was determining what information she could leave out.

"I overheard you talking to that other man on your ship. You told him you were headed to Star Base Intrepid. I figured I could find transport from there." She looked around the antiquated interior of the cockpit. "Although I must have been under the influence of the poison. It's amazing this clunker could make it anywhere."

"You wound me," he mocked. "This clunker, as you call it, has been trustworthy, which is more than I can say for you."

"I've given my word," she insisted. "I won't reveal this settlement's location. If necessary to buy my freedom, I'll agree to deliver supplies here—for a modest fee, of course."

"Yeah, I'll just bet your fees are modest. I'm sure
exorbitant
would be more accurate." His gaze raked over her again. "So, what to do with you?"

She watched him, anxiety mounting inside her. He appeared to come to a sudden decision. Striding forward, he took her arm and pulled her out of the chair. "Come on." He pushed her into the corridor.

Stumbling ahead of him, she sifted through offensive strategies. If she could turn and trip him, and land a few well-placed kicks to groin, abdomen, and head…

"Don't even think about trying anything," he warned. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him hold up a small object. "I have a remote activation unit that can send a lot of voltage through those shackles you're wearing. I can—and will—put you out before you can blink an eye."

She almost groaned in frustration. Obviously, physical force wasn't going to work. She'd have to depend on a more covert method. Her plotting came to a stop as he turned her back into the cabin she'd just vacated and guided her to the lav entry.

He stepped around and reached for the seam of her flightsuit. "This is coming off."

Her heart slammed against her rib cage, ugly memories crowding in.
He's a man! What did you expect?
She lurched back. "I'll burn in the Abyss before I give you the pleasure."

Sabin rolled his eyes. "Sex, sex, sex! Is that all you women ever think about? Forget it. This once, I'd like you to obey a simple order, lady. I want you out of that suit and in the shower."

"The shower?" She stared at him, totally confused. No doubt about it—the man was a loose fusion cannon.

"Of course the shower. Look at you!" He gestured toward her again, a look of revulsion on his face. "Your hair and flightsuit are covered with dried blood and slime. I'm going to have to clean the ship as it is."

Who cared if this rust bucket was clean? The man definitely had a gear out of orbit. Moriah wasn't immune to her unclean state, although it seemed a ludicrous concern in view of the situation. Then it occurred to her that he wouldn't want her clean if he planned to kill her right away. Relief eased some of the terrible tension gripping her body. This might present an opportunity to gain the upper hand—especially if she could get rid of the shackles.

She held out her arms. "Release me, and I'll clean up."

A speculative gleam lit his eyes. "The shackles are waterproof. I can leave them on and just cut the suit off of you. Scrub you down myself."

Her elevated adrenaline levels surged even higher. "No!" She didn't realize she had backed away until she hit the lav panel. It slid open, and she almost fell backward, but Sabin caught her arms and pulled her upright. "Let me go!"

He ignored her. "You're trembling. That makes me wonder what you're hiding beneath that suit."

"Nothing you're not already aware of!" she snapped. "Unless you want to lose a few body parts, let me go!"

He cocked his head, his eyes glittering. "Which ones?"

"What?"

"Which body parts? I like to know my options."

His mockery fueled her anger. "
Crucial
ones," she assured him.

He didn't seem too concerned as he considered. "Okay, I'll take off the shackles, and leave you to shower, under two conditions. First, you give me your promise you won't try to attack or injure me. Second, you do exactly what I say, as long as you're on board this ship."

He released his hold, and Moriah rubbed her upper arms. "I thought you didn't trust my word."

"I don't. The first time you step the least bit out of line, I'll not only shackle your hands, but your feet as well.
And
I'll activate the shock mechanism."

Damn him! Yet she had no choice but to agree. "All right, I give you my word. I won't attack you."
Just render you unconscious at the first opportunity.

"And you'll obey orders?"

She could imagine what some of his orders would be. She pushed back the darkness, focusing on survival. She'd have to find a way to circumvent such orders. As long as Celie needed her, she would survive. "Yes."

"Hold out your hands." Pulling a sequencer from his pocket, Sabin snapped it over the lock. The shackles clicked open, and he removed them. "Toss that torn suit out after you take it off. I'll leave a clean flightsuit for you on the bunk."

"Wait," she said as he started to turn away.

He looked at her, his brows raised. "What now?"

"What are you planning to do with me?"

"That's a good question. I would say what happens next depends entirely on you." He left the cabin without a backward glance.

It did depend on her, Moriah thought, fingering her bracelet. She had a weapon he didn't know about. One she planned to use at the first opportunity.

He had definitely lost it, agreeing to take the shackles off Moriah. Sabin didn't trust the woman for one instant. But she desperately needed a shower, and the stark fear in her eyes made him think twice about washing her himself.

Not that he needed to be tempted any further by her lush curves. Searching her had not only been torture, but provided proof the lady did indeed feel as good as she looked. As a matter of fact, being in close proximity to her seemed to disintegrate any good sense he possessed. His body, on the other hand, came to full alert. This unusual lack of control over his physical reactions did not sit well with him. It was time for a visit to the Pleasure Domes at the next opportunity. But first, he had to deal with Moriah.

She was intelligent and a skilled fighter, but he wouldn't give her an opportunity to get the upper hand. He had only promised to remove her shackles. That didn't mean he'd give her free rein on the ship. When she finished showering, she was going in the brig. Then he wouldn't have to worry about her until they reached their destination. And where would that be? he wondered.

Wearily, he leaned against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could put Moriah out on the planet, and that would solve the problem of her knowing too much. Of course, it would also be her death warrant. Too much was at stake for a colony of Shielders to allow an outsider to know their location and live to tell about it. Technically, he himself was obligated to shut her up permanently, but he had no stomach for killing innocents.

Ugly images reared in his mind: Screaming Shielder children, fleeing for their lives, while their parents, waging a futile stand against hordes of Anteks, were cut down like morini grass.

He shook his head to force the images away, but newer ones took their place: Graves. Growing in number daily. He'd seen the profusion of new burial sites at the Shielder colony today. According to the colonists, the virus engineered by the Controllers was no idle rumor, but a very real threat. Called Orana, it was rapidly spreading among Shielder settlements. Highly contagious, it was devastating and merciless.

All the more reason that he deal with Moriah as quickly as possible. He needed to start checking with other colonies and to see if anyone had formulated an antidote to the deadly Orana. Unfortunately, he couldn't just turn her loose. If only there were some way he could turn back time, undo what she had seen.

He froze halfway to his cabin as the answer torpedoed him. Undo what she had seen—of course! All he had to do was have part of her memory erased. A skilled healer could do that with a hypno-trance procedure. And he knew just the healer—Darya, on Elysia.

Unfortunately, Elysia was four ship cycles away, even with hyperspace. Then they would be there a cycle while the procedure was performed. All of which meant he would be out five ship cycles and Spirit knew how much revenue. Not to mention losing Galen's trail. And, more importantly, the time lost finding a way to deal with the Orana virus. His situation was getting worse by the millisecond. Muttering a curse, Sabin retrieved a clean flightsuit from his cabin. As soon as he had Moriah safely in the brig, he would take off, and set the ship's coordinates for Elysia.

He was waiting in the corridor when she emerged from the cabin, wearing the flightsuit he'd left on her bunk. She was almost as tall as him, but his flightsuit hung on her smaller frame. She'd rolled the sleeves and the pant legs up, and the loose fabric managed to drape provocatively across her breasts. Her coppery hair, still damp, fell in glorious waves down her back. Sabin wondered fleetingly if he could order her to keep it down at all times.

She walked toward him slowly, her eyes wary. For the first time, he noticed the dark circles beneath them, the hollows of her cheeks. He realized she must be exhausted and hungry. He'd seen no evidence she'd had any food with her, and she'd been on his ship four cycles. Okay, so he would put her in the brig and then fix her something to eat after he took off for Elysia.

He stepped aside, gesturing for her to go ahead of him, alert to any false move on her part. "Go to the next panel down," he instructed. After a barely perceptible pause, she complied. "Get inside," he ordered when they reached the open entry. She stepped in and turned, her expression an odd blend of defiance and uncertainty. As far as she knew, her life hung in the balance, yet she held herself proudly and with admirable poise.

He pressed the outside pad to activate the brig force field. Nothing. He punched the pad again. No hum indicating the presence of a charged field. Blazing hells. The field had been working a few cycles ago. What more could go wrong on this damnable ship before he got his new one? Clenching his hands into fists, he resisted the urge to kick the wall. Moriah raised her brows questioningly.  Sabin gritted out, "Cursed panel won't work."

He didn't see the sense in telling her this cabin had been redesigned to act as a brig, so the actual panel had been removed and a force field unit installed in its place. He didn't make it a habit of advertising the fact that he was a shadower, even though in this case, a healthy dose of fear might help keep her in line.

On the other hand, considering that she appeared to be involved in illegal activities and probably had a bounty on her head, knowing he was a bounty hunter might make her more desperate to escape him. He'd keep quiet about his shadower status for the time being, even though he had no intention of turning her in. The Controllers had so many damn ordinances that virtually every citizen committed an infraction sooner or later. Probably half of the population in this wretched quadrant had bounties on their heads. Moriah might willingly be on the wrong side of the ordinances, but it was obvious she wasn't in the same league as vicious criminals like Galen.

Sabin refused to participate in persecuting every citizen who broke the law, especially those who did so in order to survive or best the Controllers. He couldn't accept that kind of blood money. He saved his energies for the criminals who preyed on the innocent, the ones who truly deserved to be punished.

Except now he had to decide what to do with Moriah. He couldn't restrain her with a force field, which meant he either had to keep her shackled or give her free access of his ship. She stared at him silently. Probably plotting her escape. Great. He absolutely didn't trust her, so the shackles might be best. Still, she hadn't done anything to him, except for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He decided to hold off on the restraints—for now.

"Come on," he muttered, stepping back and gesturing for her to walk ahead of him. "To the cockpit."

"But you just told me to come in here."

He clamped a tight rein on his temper. "I changed my mind. I'd rather keep you in sight. Get to the cockpit."