Shadower (16 page)

He couldn't miss the tremor in her voice. Like a trapped baby kerani, she radiated fear. He turned to face her, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "McKnight has a lot of credibility and a fair amount of gold. It should be sufficient. What do you suppose will happen to you?"

She chewed her lower lip—apparently a family trait. "Moriah will think of some way to get me out." Knowing how resourceful Moriah could be, Sabin didn't doubt that for a millisecond. It would be interesting to see what her next move would be. Regardless, he wouldn't leave Celie behind in this hellhole, even if he had to evoke bounty rights.

"Don't worry, little one. I won't leave you here. I can get you out."

She sighed, leaning her head back, her golden tresses spilling over onto her chest. "I hope someone can. How long do you think we'll be here?"

"No more than a cycle, I shouldn't think."

"Oh." She sounded so despondent, Sabin smiled inwardly. In many ways, she was still a young girl, although poised on the brink of adulthood. Hoping to put her at ease, to draw information from her, he began to talk. He conversed about many things; the interesting places he'd visited, some of the natural wonders of the quadrant, some of the different races he'd encountered.

She listened, her face radiant with wonder and curiosity, her questions and replies indicating a surprising amount of knowledge. She obviously spent a lot of time delving into IAR computer files. As he sensed her relaxing, developing a tenuous trust of him, he gradually brought the conversation around to more personal matters.

"How old are you, Celie?"

"Sixteen seasons."

"You're very mature for your age. How old is Moriah?"

"Twenty-four seasons," Celie answered readily enough. "She raised me."

"What happened to your parents?"

A shadow crossed her face. "My mother died shortly after I was born, and my father…" She hesitated, clenching her hands against her thighs.

"It's okay," Sabin soothed, his curiosity kindled. "Tell me. Please."

She stared upward. "Not much to tell. He was a worthless father—drunk most of the time. What money he managed to earn as a shadower, he usually gambled away."

A shadower as a father? What kind of life was that for his children? "Did you travel with him when he was tracking criminals?"

"Of course. He could barely afford a ship, much less another place for us to stay. Besides, we usually had to take care of him."

Pain and bitterness resonated in her voice. It didn't take much for Sabin to fill in the blanks. He'd seen a lot of drunks in his travels and the patterns were pretty much universal. Buying liquor took precedence over everything—even eating. "Tough childhood, huh?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "Moriah made it bearable. She took care of me, made me eat most of the food she hoarded. She protected me, keeping me away from our father when he was drinking. She would step in front of me when he tried to hit me and take the blows instead."

Rage boiled inside Sabin. Children were defenseless, at the complete mercy of adults. He'd spent his own childhood dependent on the benevolent inclinations of his elders. The thought of Moriah having to become Celie's parent, having to go hungry, then taking care of her drunken father—her abusive father—only fueled his rage further. "Where is your father now?"

"I have no idea. He gambled us away in a game of chance when I was ten."

For a moment, Sabin wasn't sure he had heard correctly.
"He gambled you away?"

"To another shadower. My father thought he could win the man's ship, so he put Moriah and me up as a bet. But he lost. We haven't seen him since."

Sabin stared at her incredulously. "So you became the property of this other shadower? Basically slaves?"

"Not slaves, exactly. Indentured servers—" Her voice breaking, she turned away.

He battled the urge to pound his fist into something. "How long—"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

The agitation in her voice halted his interrogation. He cursed the shackles on his wrists, which prevented him from offering comfort. "I'm sorry. We won't talk of it further," he promised.

She seemed to calm in the ensuing silence, but his tension didn't abate. Her story explained a lot of things about Moriah. Her hard-edged grittiness, her independence, her smuggling activities. She'd had to learn to take care of herself at a very early age. After living in what had to be near poverty with a father who gambled away everything from food money to his own daughters, it wasn't surprising she didn't trust men. Since she'd lived a life of deprivation, the gold to be made smuggling would hold great appeal.

A grudging respect edged its way in, diffusing the rage toward Moriah he'd been hoarding. He tried to shove it back, tried to hold on to his anger by reminding himself of her transgressions—and there were a lot. Yet admiration for her determination to survive and her resourcefulness further weakened his outrage. She'd managed to raise a pretty likable sister, too. A familiar sense of regret stirred inside him. He'd had a sister once, an older sister, and they'd been very close. Until the ravaging Anteks had attacked their colony, and she and everything else in his young world had been destroyed.

Shaking away the grim memories, he forced his thoughts back to Moriah. The fact remained she had cheated him. He could accept her lying about her true identity; no one in their right mind would confess to smuggling illegal goods. He might even be able to accept being drugged, as she must have been desperate to escape him.

But taking his ship—his home, his security—that was far beyond the limits of his toleration. Then to load it with contraband! Sabin's anger rekindled and leaped to life. Maybe he wouldn't be quite as tough as he'd originally planned when he caught up with her. But he would deal with her, and now he had the bait for the trap. Celie might even give him more information. Casually, he asked, "So where were the goods on my ship being taken?"

"To Calt. But it was a fairly small deal, only to tide us over until Moriah delivers the iridon to the Leors—" She stopped abruptly, mortification filling her eyes. "Oh, Spirit! What's the matter with me?"

Shock torpedoed through Sabin.
"The Leors?"
he stormed. "Does your sister have any common sense in that pretty head of hers? Does she have any idea how dangerous the—" The alarm on Celie's face stopped his tirade midstream. "Blazing hells," he muttered, disgusted.

The Leors!
The most dangerous, warlike species in the quadrant, and highly unpredictable. And Moriah was not only doing business with them, but she was delivering iridon
.
That was only one of the most sought-after fuel sources in the quadrant, with a black market industry more volatile, more cutthroat, than any drugs or weapons combined.

He had just answered his own question. The lady didn't have a gram of sense. She needed someone to put her in her place, to make her understand the deadly nature of the game she was playing. And he was just the man to do it, Sabin decided, his plan forming. Once he had her at his mercy…

Celie's shackles clinked as she turned away from him. Great. He'd upset her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have exploded like that," he said awkwardly. "It's just that I can't—that you…Hell, Moriah shouldn't be involved with the Leors!"

"I know," Celie replied, her voice muffled. "I shouldn't have told you what I did. I know better, but I worry all the time about Mori's safety. No one can tell her what to do. She's as stubborn as a bonded lanrax." She turned to face him, her eyes pleading. "Maybe you could talk to her, after we get out of here. She might listen to you."

Oh, he was going to talk, all right—among other things. "I'll do that," he promised grimly.

"Thank you." Celie smiled. Damn, but her smile was every bit as dazzling as Moriah's.

"Think nothing of it," he muttered, then froze when he heard the force field being deactivated. "Get down and act sick!" he ordered. She quickly complied.

In stepped a tall guard, too lean to be an Antek. He wore an armored vest and a helmet with a visor covering his lower face, and held an activated electrolyzer rod. All Sabin could see above the visor were two piercing aqua eyes. The soldier was most likely a Zarian mercenary, known for their ruthlessness and lack of mercy. They sometimes hired out as prison guards.

Celie groaned, drawing the guard's attention. "What do you want?" Sabin demanded.

The soldier ignored him, taking a step toward Celie. Sabin moved to intervene and got an electrolyzer shock for his efforts. The jolt almost stopped his heart. Pain screamed through nerve endings he didn't know he had. Staggering back, he managed to speak. "She's sick, in case you hadn't noticed. Why don't you find a healthy female?"

The guard gestured toward Celie. "This female is to come with me." Celie's eyes widened and she fell silent.

"Now wait a minute," Sabin protested. "I claim bounty rights on her."

The guard sneered, "Sure, prisoner. Many seasons will pass before you see sunlight again." Sabin started forward, and the guard raised the electrolyzer rod.

"Wait!" Celie interceded, struggling to her feet. "It's all right, Sabin. I'll go."

"You won't," he growled, but took a step back as the electrolyzer rod swung at him.

"It's okay," Celie insisted, and something in her tone caught his attention. "I want to go."

He glanced at her, noting the excitement in her expression.  Something wasn't meshing here. Celie and the guard stared at each other as if sharing a silent communication. They
were
communicating, Sabin realized with astonishment. They knew each other!

This was one of Moriah's cohorts, trying to get Celie free. He found himself grinning at their audacity and cleverness. Breaching a Controller facility's security was no easy feat, and Moriah had orchestrated it in an amazingly short length of time. But he wasn't about to let his only link to her get away. Spinning quickly, he grabbed Celie and pulled her in front of him. A calculated risk, if he were wrong, but he'd bet five hundred miterons he wasn't. "Sorry. She's not going anywhere. Your weapon is worthless, because if you shock me, you shock her."

The guard raised the electrolyzer rod, then hesitated, confirming his hunch. "You will release her to me now, and I'll go easy on you," the guard offered. "If not, I'll call more guards."

"Go ahead," he challenged. "Call away." The guard glared at him, but didn't act.

Celie tried to strain away from him. "But Sabin! You don't understand. I want to go."

"No. I'm not letting you go with this impersonator. The real guards would soon discover your escape and hunt you down. And I would miss the opportunity to visit with your sister, which I'm
really
looking forward to."

"Release her!" the guard hissed, trying to edge around them. Sabin pulled Celie closer and backed away.

"You have to let me go!" she cried.

"I will, I promise. My partner will get both of us out of here in a short time." He gestured to the guard. "I have a message for you to deliver."

"What?" the guard growled, gripping the rod. Sabin knew he'd be in a galaxy of pain right now if they were alone.

"Tell Moriah that her sister and I will soon be out of here. If she wants Celie's freedom, then she can purchase it, at the cost of her own. She's to be at my ship at 1200 hours tomorrow, alone and with no weapons. We'll discuss my terms then. Oh, and tell her that I expect her to be wearing the attire of her newest profession."

The Zarian's glare intensified, radiating hatred. Footsteps approached the cell. Milliseconds later, the prison commander appeared, Chase McKnight behind him.

"About time you got here," Sabin said.

His partner raised golden eyebrows. "Arrogant rax. I should have left you another cycle."

The commander surveyed the cell, his beady eyes narrowed. "What goes on here?" he demanded.

The guard hastily backed away, lowering the rod. "Nothing, Commander. I thought I heard the female prisoner cry out, so I came to check on her."

"Of course," the commander agreed, his lecherous perusal sweeping Celie. "Too bad for the interruption." He jerked his head toward the entry. "Return to your duties."

"Yes, Commander," the guard muttered, backing away. He—or was it she?—shot Sabin another damning glare and left.

He was certain his message would be delivered. And at 1200 hours tomorrow, Moriah would once again be at his mercy.

Moriah slowly mounted the ramp to Sabin's ship. She stared at the hatch, her heart pounding and every instinct screaming at her to run.
He has Celie.

The fury she'd experienced when Lionia returned with Sabin's message resurfaced. Damn him to the Abyss. How dare be hold her sister hostage? Celie was young and innocent. She deserved no part in his underhanded schemes. What Moriah wouldn't give to have a gun in her hands right now, to see the look on his arrogant face when the hatch opened and she took aim.

No weapons.
His message had been clear, and as long as Celie was his hostage, he called the shots. Wiping her hands against her rhapha, Moriah took a deep breath. Tremors, reverberating from the darkest memories of her soul, warred with anger. But she pushed all emotions aside. Her sister was on board this ship, and nothing, not the past, nor the urge to maim Sabin Travers, would distract her from getting Celie to safety.

She raised her hand toward the control pad, but the hatch slid open before she could sound the tone. Sabin shadowed the entryway, his overwhelming presence eroding any thoughts of escape. His ebony hair flowed loose around his broad shoulders; his black flightsuit clung to his lean, powerful frame. He looked sleek and wild, more like a primitive Trion savage than the Controller agent he claimed to be.

The triumphant smirk on his face, the anticipation in his black-hole eyes, shot adrenaline through her veins. In a flash of déjà vu, she was back with Pax, experiencing the same sense of inevitability. She battled conflicting urges to either flee or destroy. She had to stay calm, focused. Celie needed her.