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  “So,” Nyndham snapped, “we relieve them of it.”

  McGregor was sitting slumped against the door to the containment cell. Now and again, the loud bellows of rage coming from Khiershon Cree and the heavy thumps of fury battering the door made him tense. He had a wicked headache and Cree’s howls of frustration at being confined were intensifying the pain in McGregor’s temples.

  “Iyan?” Nyndham questioned. “Do we relieve them of the ship or not?”

  “That was a foregone conclusion,” Iyan grated. “This is a Medivac ship and the supplies on board are worth their weight in gold.”

  “What do we do with the crew?”

  Iyan shrugged. “That’s up to Khier.”

  “Nice of you to let him make at least one decision, McGregor,” Nyndham commented dryly.

  “She asked for it!” Iyan defended.

  “No, she did not,” the First Officer disagreed. “You stepped in deep foig this time and he isn’t going to let you clean your boot off that easily, my friend.”

  Iyan knew that to be a truth so remained quiet. When it was obvious to Nyndham that the Captain had turned uncommunicative, the First Officer terminated the Vid-com link and set about making plans to take over the Terran ship.

  “McGregor!” Cree howled and the doors behind Iyan’s back trembled with the vibration of the Reaper’s hits.

  “I made a mistake,” Iyan acknowledged and flinched as the savage pounding on the containment cell walls made it perfectly clear his friend thought so, too.

  Caitlin was notpleased when she found Iyan McGregor striding toward her. He was flanked by two of the Orion’s security officers but she couldn’t help but wonder if the men would be any help if McGregor intended to attack her.

  “He is awake and wishes to speak with you,” McGregor stated, his voice devoid of inflection. He wasn’t looking at her, but at a spot just above her head. “I am to tell you that I am sorry for what I did and to ask for your pardon.”

  “What did you do, McGregor?”

  The pale blue eyes shifted to Caitlin for a second then leapt away. “He will tell you, Lady.” The perverse imp that lived inside Caitlin’s Celtic soul did an aggravated little hop on her temper, shrieked, and prodded the Healer with a sharp, bony finger. “Don’t let him off that easy, Cait! ”

  “I am asking you what you did, Captain,” Caitlin insisted. “I prefer you tell me.” Her lips twitched.

  “Unless you’re too ashamed to admit your mistake. Then I’ll understand.” Iyan McGregor-like all the warriors of his clan-considered himself to be a man of honor. When challenged, he met the contest with deliberation and steady purpose. As soon as the Terran woman’s words left her lips, his own temper soared and he lowered his heated gaze to hers.

  “Reapers are highly-trained assassins,” he said, his eyes drilling into hers. “Any blood they consume is encrypted into their genetic makeup and bookmarked. This is how a Reaper is able to locate a target.

  One drop of the target’s blood is all it takes for him to home in on the object of termination and find her.” His lips eased back in a taunting smile. “No matter where that target goes in the universe, she will never be able to hide from Khiershon Cree. He will follow her bloodscent until he finds her.” Caitlin paled. “And you knew this,” she whispered.

  “Aye,” he whispered back. “I knew it.”

  There was something in the way he said those words, an inflection, that caught Caitlin’s full attention.

  She stared back at him, seeing a tiny flame of uncertainty leap to life in his gaze before he tamped it. She cocked her head to one side and regarded him.

  “And he is furious with you for having done this, isn’t he, Captain?” she asked.

  McGregor stiffened, but did not answer.

  “Isn’t he?” she prodded.

  A muscle began to tick in the Captain’s jaw and when he replied, his teeth were clenched. “He is...not happy with what I did,” he admitted.

  She could have humbled the man even more, making him confess that his friend was more than just unhappy; but Caitlin had dealt with prideful men all her life and had found the best way to handle them was to circumvent their egos.

  “Your apology is accepted,” she stated, “and the situation, if not forgotten, is forgiven, Captain. Thank you for your honesty. We need never discuss the matter again.” McGregor frowned, unsure of her purpose. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stepped around him and started down the corridor.

  “He is in sickbay?” she asked over her shoulder.

  The Captain’s frown deepened. He cast a questioning glance to one of the security men who shrugged.

  “To her, the incident is settled, Captain. My suggestion would be to go forward as though nothing had happened.”

  “No woman lets bygones be bygones,” McGregor snapped.

  “That one does,” the security man replied and held out his hand to indicate McGregor was to proceed.

  As he stomped down the corridor in the Healer’s wake, McGregor’s confusion gave way to the absolute surety that he had met a formidable enemy in the person of the diminutive Terran woman.

  Caitlin was shiveringas she walked to the sickbay. The mere thought of an alien being such as Cree being able to track her across time and space was terrifying. That he was an assassin had not been made clear in the scroll they had found. The writing had labeled him a beast of some kind; but it had not stated he was a cold-blooded killer created and designed to track and terminate people.

  The first person Caitlin encountered as she entered sickbay was Lisa Mahon. “I need to talk to you,” Lisa said urgently, taking Caitlin’s arm.

  “What is it?”

  “Hush,” Lisa warned and led Caitlin into the lab where Helen Bryan, Cathy Atherton, Pat Rasey, Barb Fuller, and Marti Holloway, the Orion’s Maintenance Chief, were already gathered.

  “Did you see any of our men on your way here?” Lisa asked, closing the door to the lab behind them.

  “No,” Caitlin answered, “but I...”

  “That’s because none of our men are on board the Orion,” Helen informed her.

  “What?” Caitlin gasped.

  “All the men are gone and the seven of us are the only women on board,” Marti stated.

  Caitlin’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Serious as a heart attack! The men started disappearing about an hour ago, then the women vanished,” Cathy explained. “I’ve done a diagnostic of the entire ship and we’re it, Cait.”

  “Just us and them,” confirmed Lisa.

  Caitlin shook her head in denial. “No, that can’t be. There were two S.P.s with McGregor when he came to find me. They...”

  “I’ll wager next month’s credits they ain’t on this ship now,” Helen told her.

  “Then where are they?” Caitlin questioned.

  “Maybe floating around somewhere out there,” Lisa snorted jerking a thumb over her shoulder to indicate space.

  “You think they’re dead?” Caitlin shook her head. “No, I don’t...” The door to the lab shushed open and the women shrieked, scrambling across the room and away from whatever threat had presented itself. They shrieked again as the two side doors of the lab slid back to reveal two men they’d never seen before.

  “What are you doing in here?” McGregor demanded as he pushed past the unknown men who had opened the main lab door. His intense scrutiny settled on Caitlin. “Why are you not tending to Cree?”

  “Where are our men?” Caitlin flung at him.

  “You’re looking at them,” McGregor told her. “Now get out there and see to him!” With that said, he walked back into sickbay.

  “You’re looking at them?” Caitlin questioned, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “Caitlin, do something!” Helen sang, grabbing Caitlin’s arm.

  Her knees weak, her heartbeat out of control, Caitlin shook off her friend’s hand and practically ran from the room.

  McGregor wa
sbending over Cree, holding a cup to the Reaper’s lips as Caitlin stormed up to them.

  “Where are our men?” she shouted.

  “Lower you’re voice, woman!” McGregor ordered. “He is in pain!”

  “You’re going to be in a lot worse pain if you don’t tell me where our men are!” Caitlin threw at him.

  “Woman!” McGregor snarled, “if you do not...”

  “Stop!” Cree whispered and he snaked out his hand to grab McGregor’s wrist.

  McGregor stilled immediately, but turned an angry look to his friend. “Khiershon, she...”

  “Be quiet,” Cree said. His voice was little more than a breath of sound and he winced as he spoke. The pain in his throat was so great he closed his eyes to will it away.

  “See what you’ve done?” McGregor asked Caitlin. “The man is in agony and you have-”

  “Shut up, Iyan!”

  McGregor’s mouth closed with an audible click. One look at his clenched jaw, tightly curled fists and rigid shoulders was enough for Caitlin to know the man was on the verge of committing mayhem if not out and out murder.

  “I just want to know where our men are,” she said, her words directed at Cree. The Healer in her made note of the tension on his handsome face, the beads of sweat on his brow and upper lip, and the intensity of his gaze.

  “They are safe,” Cree told her. “Do not worry.”

  “I am responsible for their lives. I can not help but worry,” she replied.

  “Do you dare question his honor, woman?” McGregor seethed.

  “Iyan.” Cree sighed. “She is not questioning my honor. She is stating her position.”

  “Khiershon...”

  “Leave us,” Cree ordered and when McGregor began shaking his head in denial of the request, the Reaper turned the full force of his displeasure on the man. “Now, McGregor.” Knowing it would do him no good to argue when Cree used that particular tone of voice, Iyan bowed his head for a moment in acknowledgement of Cree’s authority then pivoted on his heel and stomped off.

  “He is an aneurysm waiting to blow,” said Caitlin.

  “Serenians are like that,” Cree told her.

  She adjusted the covers over his naked chest. “My men?” she prompted.

  “They are on board The Ravenwind,” he replied.

  “For what purpose?”

  “We need your ship,” he replied. “Your men would have posed a threat to my crew. A threat we do not need at the moment.”

  “They are under arrest?” she asked.

  “They are being detained,” he said, reaching up to rub at the pain in his right temple.

  “And the seven of us women?” she asked, her heart thudding. “Why did you keep us here?”

  “Not for the reason your Helen is hoping for,” he said, smiling.

  “No rape, ravaging, and pillaging, then?” she countered and could not keep from smiling as well.

  “Not unless you ask us nicely,” he replied.

  “Hostages?”

  “In part,” he agreed, “but you are a Healer and we have need of a Healer. The other females have talents that are useful, as well.”

  Marti was an engineer; Helen was a communications specialist; Cathy was systems; Pat was a weapons specialist, Barb was a Jill of all trades and Lisa was a lab technician. It made sense in a strange sort of way.

  “No harm will come to you, Lady,” he promised. “On my honor as a Reaper I swear this to you.”

  “I’m not worried about myself,” she lied for she was terrified of what might happen to her. “But I have an obligation to make sure-”

  “You saved my life,” he said and would have taken her hand had she not stepped out of his reach. Hurt shifted across his face. “Why do you deny me?”

  “You know why,” she said and moved further back.

  “Do you think I would harm you in any way?”

  “What is it you want?” she forced out. “If it’s the ship, just take it. Put us on that planetoid back there where we found you.”

  “Montyne Vex.”

  “Whatever it is,” she snapped. “Just leave us a communication device and enough food and we’ll...”

  “I can do that. I can leave your crew on the planetoid,” he said and watched the relief flood her eyes, then snatched it away by saying: “But you I will take with me, Lady.” Chapter Seven

  Iyan pacedthe corridor outside the sickbay and glared murderously at the floor. He walked with his hands clasped at the small of his back as though he were at parade rest. When he turned, he did so in the military fashion: stopping, putting his right foot behind him, and then pivoting on the toe of his boot. For those who were accustomed to watching this display of precise marching, it was a sign the Serenian was highly agitated.

  Or enraged at something Khiershon Cree had set into motion.

  “You can not be his conscience, Iyan,” Nyndham remarked casually as the Captain passed him on the return leg of one of his marching circuits.

  “Somebody has to be.”

  “This was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  “Not with a Terran!”

  “His Bloodsire took a Terran female to mate,” said Nyndham quietly.

  “Reapers should not mate.”

  “You would have him alone his entire life, Iyan?”

  McGregor stopped pacing. “He has me!” he flung at the First Officer.

  “Aye, and when was the last time you satisfied his carnal needs, Milord?” Iyan McGregor’s stony silence made Nyndham arch a thick black brow.

  “Not a Terran,” McGregor finally spat and commenced pacing again.

  “I think he did not choose her, Iyan,” Dakin Hesar submitted. “I believe the Fates chose her for him.”

  “So do I,” Sinjun Wynth, The Ravenwind’s navigator, decreed.

  “Believe what you will,” McGregor decreed. “I would rather he mate with a Diabolusian warthoglet than take that Terran viper to his breast! She will be the death of...” McGregor barely had time to move out of the way as the woman in question came running from sickbay.

  He slammed into the wall, staring after her as she fled. “What the hell did you do?” he shouted and spun around to enter the sickbay, shoving Wynth.

  Cree was struggling to sit up, the bandages wrapped around his lower chest and belly restricting his movements. He flinched as Iyan hurried to him and grabbed his arm.

  “What did the bitch do?” McGregor queried, his attention going over every visible inch of his friend.

  The Reaper sighed. “Iyan, she did nothing.” He gasped as he slid off the bed and his bare feet-cut and burned as they were-touched the cold floor.

  “You are in pain! Do not tell me she did nothing!” Without giving his friend a chance to reply, McGregor scooped him up and laid him down on the bed again.

  “I was getting up,” Cree said.

  “You are staying put!” Iyan insisted. He adjusted the pillow under Cree’s head then swiped a fallen lock of sable hair from the Reaper’s eyes. He laid his hand on Cree’s shoulder. “Give the parasite time to heal you, Khier.”

  “Go after her,” Cree ordered. “Bring her back.”

  “Khier...” Iyan groaned.

  Cree reached up and covered Iyan’s hand with his own. “I have claimed her; she is mine. Go get her and bring her back to me. She has to be made to understand.”

  “You are making a mistake.”

  “My mistake to make.”

  Minutes passed while the men regarded one another, then Iyan’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Is this is what you wish...”

  “This is what I wish,” the Reaper said.

  McGregor lifted his chin. “Then I will fetch her for you.”

  “Make your peace with her, Iyan,” Khiershon Cree asked.

  Iyan curled his right hand into a fist and placed it against his heart. “I will do as you ask.” There were strangemen in control of the Orion, yet none of them spared Caitlin a single look as she walked past. The oddit
y of them not paying her any attention put a chill down her spine. She was reminded of an old video where a space station had been overrun with mindless automatons intent only on the task at hand. She shuddered and slapped her palm against the entry pad of her quarters.

  “You are upset,” the Com-Link acknowledged as Caitlin rushed into the room. “There has been no harm done to the crew.”

  “We have been taken over, Coni!” She threw herself on her bunk, drew her knees into the protection of her arms and sat there rocking back and forth in agitation. “And it’s my fault for having allowed that...that...man on board!”

  “You are referring to Captain McGregor?”

  “What have I done?” Caitlin breathed. “What have I set into motion?” A delicate chime announced a visitor at her door and Caitlin snapped her head up. “No entry!” she yelled.

  There was a soft thud: the sound of a security lock falling into place within the titanium structure of the door.

  “Secured,” the Com-Link stated, “but you are being hailed, Sweeting.”

  “Stop calling me that!” Caitlin shouted, grabbing a pillow to throw it at the offending wall panel in which the Com-Link was housed. “Don’t call me that again. Do you hear me?”

  “Understood.” The Com-Link’s normally soothing voice took on a curt, cold, and machine-like quality.

  “But you are being hailed, Dr. Kelly.”

  “No connection,” Caitlin barked. “Terminate!”

  There was a click as the Com-Link was turned off.

  Caitlin knew who was outside her door. She could feel him standing there, angry, annoyed, and seething with the desire to punish her for defying him. She sat huddled on the bed, her eyes glued to the door, waiting for him to respond to her defiance.

  She didn’t have long to wait.

  The blast peeled the door panel back on its pneumatic lock and the metal folded inward like a rose bud relaxing its petals. A carbon stain left a black ring around the opening and was still smoldering as Iyan McGregor stepped through.