Prime Obsession (21 page)

“
Ansu bhau
!” Mel swore.

As she crawled out of narrow confines of the shield array maintenance tunnel, she added a few more pithy invectives learned in her many years in the military. Cursing wouldn’t fix the problems, but it did allow her to let off some of the anger roiling in her gut.

Huw following her out snorted back a laugh. “Very creative, but crude. I think I’ll start a list for future use now that I am part of the Alliance.” Mel shot him a wry grin. “I’ll send one to your com-box.” She swept some hair off her face. Damn all men and their fondness for long hair on women. She’d like to see how they’d like hair in their faces all the time. That morning, between deep, luscious, panty-dampening kisses, Wulf had begged her not to braid her hair, but to let it flow, and like a sappy idiot, she had. Okay, so she was easy, but the man could kiss.

She let out a disgusted sigh. Hair styles and Wulf were the least of her problems.

Defective, loose, or missing couplings on the exterior connections to the shields were.

“Good news is—the power sources still work,” she said, dusting off her uniform, making a mental note to have maintenance clean the shield array tunnels more often. “We just can’t get the power to the exterior shields. Bad news is—we need a space dock or a stable orbit around a planet out of the path of meteor showers to make repairs. Both of which are harder to find in this part of the galaxy than an Erian’s teeth. It’s an easy fix once we get outside the ship.”

His good-humored grin of a moment ago gone, Huw nodded. “I agree. Closest space dock in this part of the galaxy that can handle a ship our size would be the Alliance Military Dock orbiting Tooh 10. Wulf might know of another one, but I don’t.” Something, a specific place she’d heard of from a trawler captain with whom she’d shared a bar table many years ago, niggled at the back of her mind. She’d have to check the charts for this part of the galaxy to see if she could jog her memory.

If Tooh 10 was the closest, that wasn’t saying much. Their current position placed them in a vastly underpopulated area of the Cygnus-Orion spiral. Tooh 10, in the Mu Arae system, was located more centrally in the spiral. Right now, they were in the middle of frigging nowhere. Well, nowhere if you didn’t count the asteroid belts and other detritus of former solar systems floating around, threatening to make big holes in space vehicles without shields.

“Dammit all to hell! We need those shields. We might be able to handle small hunks of rock with the auxiliary shields, but I wouldn’t put good money on that bet,” she said.

“All it takes is one leftover hunk of a former planet running into our shield-less hull and we are fodder for a salvage yard.”

The deep creases on Huw’s forehead indicated that his thoughts paralleled hers.

Mel blew a lock of hair from her mouth, then glared at her brother-in-law as if her bad hair day was his fault. It wasn’t—it was Wulf’s.

“And, how in the hell did they bollocks up the exterior shield structure after leaving Cejuru Prime? Did anyone on board request an extra-vehicular inspection?” she asked.

“No. And only Wulf can authorize an EVI,” Huw said. “And, now, you, of course.” She nodded. “So, they did it in Cejuru Space Dock,” she stated the obvious conclusion. “Do you think they just loosened the couplings? The vibration of jump flight would eventually knock them completely loose.”

“Maybe, but unlikely. We made several jumps and used the shields multiple times on the way to Obam IV to get to you and Wulf,” stated Huw. “I’m betting the saboteurs installed defective couplings that failed under stress of repeated uses or, better yet, put something corrosive on them to cause them to break at a future time.”

“Whatever they did to them—bottom line, we don’t have our primary shields, just the auxiliary.” Mel turned and headed for the nearest elevator. Huw matched his longer-legged stride to hers. “The rebels figured that eventually we’d have to use the shields in an emergency of their or some other unknown’s making in the middle of nowhere. End result? A Grade-A cluster fuck.”

“Yeah, couldn’t have said it better myself,” agreed Huw.

Thinking back to the two men who’d tried to kill her and Iolyn, she frowned.

Something about this scenario didn’t ring true. An EVI took specific knowledge and training in zero G. Any monkey could mess up the couplings. A good knock with a hammer, some acid dripped on them, or leaving them loose would produce the current result. But a spacewalk required someone with skills.

“Do either Donte or Regin even have the experience and knowledge to do the EVI?” she asked. She’d done hundreds of them in her early years in the military. All transport captains knew enough basic engineering to fix their ships since they often made deliveries to the most far-flung areas of the galaxy under some of the worst conditions, which almost always necessitated a zero-g space walk. She had even more of an advantage. The military had paid for her engineering degree and she had first-hand experience making repairs under zero-g conditions.

“
Ansu bhau.
Why didn’t I think of that?” Huw glanced at her, an angry scowl creasing his forehead, and said, “No, they don’t have that kind of experience. That would mean that someone in Cejuru Space Dock is part of the rebellion.” The elevator opened at their approach. “Yes,” Mel said, as she led the way inside and ordered “bridge.” They rode to the command deck in silence as if the far-flung perfidy of the rebels had temporarily rendered them speechless.

Wulf’s head jerked up as the elevator opened onto the bridge. He turned his head and smiled at her, but then frowned.

Mel checked her mental filters to see if she had inadvertently left them open. No, she hadn’t. He was reading her emotions, not her mind.

“What’s wrong, Melina? Huw?”

She stepped to Wulf’s side aware that all the eyes of the bridge crew fixed upon her.

Self-consciously, she smoothed her hair back behind her ears.

Wulf’s amber-colored gaze followed the movement then heated, turning his eyes into the color of molten gold. His aura glowed red-hot. She didn’t have to touch his mind to know that he recalled how they’d spent their off-duty time. He wanted her again. Now.

An answering warmth swept through her, making her wet.

“Behave, Wulf. Now is not the time to get all amorous on me.”

“I was just admiring my
gemate
’s beautiful hair.”

“You are
so
in trouble. As soon as we get a handle on what we’re going to do about
this mess we’re in, I’m going back to our quarters to take a shower and braid this damn
hair.”

“Not damn hair. Beautiful hair. I like it down.”

“Wulf!”

“Melina … later, my love. Make your report. The crew is wondering what we are
discussing.”

Taking a deep, calming breath, she made a report of her and Huw’s findings.

Anger stole the light from his fiery gold eyes. “This, added to the fact that three out of five of our main weapon systems have had their energy source partially or fully discharged, places the ship in a dire situation.”

“Well, shit,” she swore. “How long to recharge?”

“Twenty standard hours—maybe more. As long as we find nothing else damaged,” Wulf replied. “Anticipating that we might have other, more serious damage as yet undetected, I ordered Gold Squadron to change course and to head back to meet us at top speed. We’ll need their escort to Tooh 10. Once we reach Tooh 10, I feel we should have the
Galanti
totally overhauled and given a clean bill of health before we head to Cejuru Prime.”

The potential for an ambush before they made the Alliance Military space dock was left unmentioned by Wulf, but was in the forefront of everyone’s mind.

Mel sensed that the mood on the ship was still one of disbelief and outrage that their own people had turned on them and sabotaged their ship, endangering the entire crew.

And for what? Fear of change? That reason, the reason that Donte, Regin and the other rebels she’d encountered had espoused, didn’t work for her. In the long history of the Prime, they’d made many changes and adaptations in order to survive, including mating with other humanoids on planets they discovered and/or colonized. Why this lust for purity of bloodlines now? No, there was something else going on behind this “rebellion,” and Mel would find out what. But first they had to make it to Tooh 10.

Shoving aside her concerns over the rebels’ motivation, Mel nodded. “Agreed. It would be irresponsible to put off a complete maintenance. Hell, besides the rebel threat, there are Antareans out there gunning for any Alliance ship. Not to mention, killer hunks of rock that could put a hole into us in a split second. A damaged ship equals a dead crew.”

“Good. We are of the same mind.” Wulf’s lips thinned into a grim smile. “I also notified Alliance Military Command of our situation. They’ve notified any and all Alliance in the area to stand ready to assist.”

While she’d been crawling around in the tunnels, her
gemat
had been busy, doing exactly everything she would’ve done. They made a good team.

“Well, they can notify any or all Alliance patrols in the area they like, but it won’t do much good. This is not a part of the galaxy that sees regular patrols. Other than the Obam system, there are no other stars with habitable zone planets out here.” This part of the Cygnus-Orion spiral was literally almost empty as compared to the rest of the spiral. Not much need to patrol empty space.

Wulf nodded. “I know,
gemate,
but I wanted to cover all bases, especially since Captain Nowicki was ordered back to Tooh 10 ahead of us.”

“Good move. You’re already in the CYA-mode of Alliance military ops.” She grinned at him. “That was a lesson I learned early on, even when I was only a first officer on troop and supply transports.”

Mel moved closer to Wulf and placed a hand on his fisted one. His anger and fear, for her, for his crew, but not for himself, was palpable. The need to touch him, to soothe him, was far stronger than her distaste for public displays of affection in front of their crew. He was hurting, and she
needed
to make him feel better. Plus, touching him comforted her, also.

Inhaling his unique male scent, feeling the gentle heat generated by her stroking of his hand, her anger over the current dire situation dissipated. As some semblance of calm settled over her—and in turn, over Wulf, she realized that together they were not just a good team, but they were also stronger as individuals. Together, they could handle whatever came their way. “Things aren’t that bad, Wulf. We still have maneuverability,” she said as she let go of his hand and ticked the positives off on her fingers. “We also have secondary weapons systems and auxiliary shields, not to mention fifteen space fighters armed with torpedoes. We could defend ourselves until the
Leonidas
and the rest of the squadron reach us.”

Murmurs of approval at her words came from many of the crew on the bridge. The word
battle-mate
whispered around the bridge as if on a gentle breeze through a tall meadow of grass. The crew’s faith in her abilities humbled her. She hadn’t even proven herself in battle yet and they trusted that she, no, that she and Wulf, could bring them through.

Wulf smiled. “And, as my crew has so rightly pointed out, we have the advantage of superior tactical leaders, battle-mate. We are stronger together. That is a plus the rebels and our enemies have not counted on.”

“You were reading my thoughts.”

“Yes. When you leave it open, I touch your mind constantly. It is a prime
imperative.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she whispered, a slight smile twisting her lips. She’d thought her filters were impervious. Wulf was becoming more proficient in touching her thoughts, as she did his. She’d have to work on strengthening her filters. A girl had to have
some
secrets.

A sudden, horrible thought wiped the smile from her lips. “Long-range sensors.

What’s the status?”

Wulf replied, “Working optimally and increased to maximum range of five light-years.” He pulled the long-range scanner onto his command screen. “Very little activity except for … are those Alliance military transponder codes?” His head turned toward hers. “I thought you said there was little or no military presence in this area.”

“There isn’t—normally.” She took a closer look at the blips on the screen. “They look like our codes, but not any I recognize in particular.” Mel’s senses went on red alert.

“Mr. Dakkin, please relay these codes to Alliance Military Operations on Tooh 10

and ask for identification,” Mel requested of the communications officer.

The silence on the bridge became oppressive; it, combined with the emotional bombardment of the crew, overwhelmed Mel’s psi abilities. She threw up her empathic filters, leaving only her personal connection to Wulf open, and that, more narrowly than before.

“Got them, Captain Melina,” Dakkin announced, his voice so loud in the silence that Mel jumped, startled. “Captain Sinclair is standing by.”

“On screen, please,” Mel requested.

On the large forward monitor, a small, attractive blonde sat at a large console, dressed in the royal blue Alliance uniform worn by Command Ops personnel. Her face was preternaturally calm, but her sky blue eyes held a hint of worry.