Prime Obsession (3 page)

Prime Starship Galanti

Anger sweeping through him like a molten wave, Kenric Wulf Caradoc glared at the body of the traitor Solar, who’d aided the space pirates in slipping past his ship’s normally impenetrable security.

Turning to his brother Huw, he snarled, “Who helped him? This
apayebo
couldn’t have done it alone.”

“I don’t know—and we won’t be able to tell now,” his brother replied, eyeing the dead traitor. “Once we went under Code Argenta, all personnel shut down their stations and reported here under standard emergency procedures. If Solar had help, that person, or persons, is either dead, with the pirates—or here, hiding in plain sight.”

“Find Iolyn and Maren. Bring them to me,” Wulf ordered. “Trust no one else. We need to plan, to watch. We are too far from Prime space. I have issued a call for Alliance assistance.”

“What about any remaining traitors?” Huw asked, his narrowed gaze sweeping the room.

Wulf smiled grimly. “Any traitors among us will show their true colors as time passes.”

Code Argenta protocols would assure that. The Prime had a long-standing policy of not allowing any of its military equipment to fall into the hands of the enemy—or opportunistic pirates. The
Galanti’s
destruction count-down clock had already started.

Unless help arrived in time, it would continue to explosion. They had ninety-six standard hours.

Huw nodded and ran to find his brother and their friend Maren.

Settling his shoulders back against a bulkhead, Wulf’s narrowed gaze swept the engine room several times. The cavernous room hummed with activity; the sound reflecting off the titanium walls raised goose bumps on his flesh.

Operating under reduced power, his highly trained crew went about their expected duties in the dimly lit room; their bodies cast ghost-like shadows on the pale titanium walls. All stations were manned continuously, the flashing lights and monitors adding to the surreal glow in the room. Each member of his crew could operate any piece of equipment on the ship. Those on duty monitored the security systems and watched live camera feed from inside the ship and without it. Others slept until it was their time to man the various stations.

Wulf noted with approval that the healthy aided the injured. They’d been fortunate to have lost so few lives. The surprise attack was responsible for the majority of his crew’s injuries in the docking bay. Emergency protocols had kept their casualties down in the rest of the ship.

As expected, his men maintained the preternatural calm of Prime warriors preparing for battle, and possibly their deaths. Nothing seemed out of place, but an undercurrent of something “off” niggled at his subconscious. Somewhere in this room there was at least one traitor, maybe more, but even his highly attuned empathic senses couldn’t single him or them out. There were just too many sets of strong emotions in the enclosed space. That fact, coupled with the interference of the computer and machine sounds, distorted his ability to test the emotional status of each man.

He turned to his left and switched the monitor on the master command console to an exterior view.

The pirate mother ship, a battle cruiser that had probably been salvaged, or liberated, from the Volusian military, lay off the starboard side, dead in space, operating on emergency power. They’d been lucky. The pirate ship’s power source was of the type that his new beta-weapon could defang it. If he and his crew survived, the Prime—and through the newly signed treaty, the Alliance—would have an effective new weapon to use against certain of their shared enemies.

Huw, Iolyn and Maren came to stand with him.

“What is our status, Wulf?” Maren asked in low tones.

“We control the
Galanti
. Engines have been shut back to emergency power. The pirates may be in possession of the command deck, but they have no power.

Environmental is cut off on every level of the ship but this one. And the pirate ship is dead in space and has no working weapons.”

Wulf motioned the three men closer as he scanned the immediate area to see if any one of the crew expressed more than a casual interest in what the four of them discussed.

He saw no one in particular and the emotional levels in the room had not changed. If there were other saboteurs, they were not ready to make their move just yet. “Iolyn, what is the intruder count?”

“We are outnumbered by almost a three-to-one ratio,” Iolyn responded. “We are trapped in engineering. The
apayebo
Solar corrupted the computer program controlling some of the maintenance tunnel traps leading to and from the engine room. Currently, I can’t command them.”

“So, we can’t use them to leave and take the battle to the intruders,” Wulf said. He muttered several Prime epithets under his breath. “The good news is that they can not use them to get to us, either.”

“The self-destruct mechanism?” Maren asked.

“It is functioning as programmed,
and
I can still halt it at any time,” said Wulf.

His brothers and Maren visibly relaxed at that news. No Prime wanted to die under a Code Argenta. They were warriors and would rather die in glorious battle. But they would go up with their ship as long as it kept the pirates from stealing the
Galanti
and its advanced technology.

“We need to monitor the crew in the engine room for signs of increased fear or stress as the countdown proceeds,” Wulf said in a low voice that only carried to his companions. “I expect our other traitor or traitors will attempt to halt the countdown.”

“What I don’t understand is why any of our men would aid the pirates.” Huw frowned. “This crew is the pick of the Prime military.”

“I suspect the pirates were hired by the pure-blood faction and that some of our crew are sympathizers who have been persuaded that joining the Alliance is not the way to proceed,” Maren offered. “Even though the treaty has been signed for months, the actual opening of a Prime embassy on foreign soil makes it more real. This is the rebels’ way of sending a message.”

“Capturing or killing the Prime leader’s three sons and best friend would definitely be a message,” Wulf concurred. “Unfortunately for them, it didn’t work. Besides, father and the majority of the Council are committed to this course of action. This would not stop the alliance.”

The others nodded.

“What are we going to do now?” Iolyn asked.

“We wait.” Wulf stared unseeing at the monitor. “The pirates can’t get away on the ship that brought them. With one precise hit, our beta-protean ray has damaged their engine’s power source and shut down their weapons systems. They’re helpless. They must take the
Galanti
to leave.”

He switched the monitor’s view to the ship’s command deck, where several pirates stood arguing. “The Alliance will either arrive and help us liberate the ship and capture the pirates or we’ll blow the
Galanti
and anything within fifty thousand kilometers into molecule-sized pieces.”

“How many of the boarding party did we manage to kill, Iolyn?” Huw asked, leaning over Wulf’s shoulder to get a look at the monitor. “The pirate leaders don’t look too happy with the situation.”

Wulf laughed grimly. “No, they aren’t happy. Would you be? They now realize they can’t leave on their ship—and can’t control ours either.”

“They lost about half their boarding team when we cut environmental to the other decks before they managed to put on breather-units, but as I said, they still outnumber us three-to-one,” Iolyn said, consulting his data pad. “They lost at least five men in the maintenance tunnel traps in an attempt to get to the engine room.” Huw grinned at his brothers. “Bet they regret ever attempting to take a Prime ship.” Loud thudding noises at the engine room doorway attracted all of their attention. The pirates gathered outside were once again attempting to break through the door shields.

“What about the engine room’s security? Did Solar manage to sabotage it?” Maren asked, concern in his eyes.

“No.” Wulf’s lips twisted into a smug smile. “I killed him before he got that far. The engine room shields are impenetrable.”

The other men grunted in approval.

“Is there any chance we could retake the ship without external help?” Huw asked.

“Not without a great loss of life. They’ve concentrated their numbers on the engine room access ways.” Wulf switched to the cameras in the hallways leading to the engine room. At least fifty heavily armed men from multiple races and species had hunkered down for the siege. “We’d be killed as soon as we let down the shields on the door.”

“What about the maintenance tunnels?” Maren asked. “Can we control
any
of the traps so we can get out to take the battle to them?”

Wulf understood the old warrior’s feelings. Sitting and waiting to be rescued was not the Prime way. But this time, it was the prudent choice. The treaty with the Alliance and their reasons for signing it were more important than a little glory in battle.

Wulf shook his head. “Right now, we can’t control the three crucial traps closest to the engine room. Anyone going in or out of here through those last three sections would be killed instantly.”

“Can we repair the damage Solar did?” Huw asked.

Wulf shrugged. “We can try. It would take massive reprogramming—and that might take longer than the time we have left.”

“I’m willing to try, brother.” Iolyn grinned. “It’s not as if I have anything better to do.”

Wulf nodded. His brother was the best programmer they had. If anyone could do it, he could. “Do your best. Start with the one immediately outside the engine room access to the tunnels. That would at least allow us into the hallway just outside the main engine room door—we might be able to take out some of the enemy from above and behind.” He switched the monitor view to the tunnel sections leading into the engine room.

Two dead pirates, a Terran and some pseudo-reptilian species, possibly an Erian, lay in the tunnel at the second to last trap just outside of the engine room. The Erian still breathed, but could not retreat because the trap sensed motion and might finish the job it had started. “The pirates have already attempted to gain entrance. I don’t think they’ll try again.”

Iolyn nodded and moved to another computer console to begin his work.

“I’ll help, Iolyn.” Huw joined his brother.

“Thus, for now, we have a stalemate,” concluded Maren.

“Yes,” Wulf said. “Until either the Alliance arrives, we help ourselves, or we self-destruct.”

“Let’s hope that there is an Alliance ship close enough to respond,” Maren said.

Wulf nodded. He hoped so also. He more than anyone else on the ship, other than maybe Maren, had something to live for now. A woman with his
gemate
sign. Maren’s niece. His
gemate,
his genetically ideal mate
—
Captain Melina Dmitros.

At the mere thought of her, his body throbbed with unspent passion. His heart ached at the thought of losing his chance to meet her. Since he’d first learned of her existence, all his thoughts, his dreams each night, had been of meeting the woman with whom he could share everything. His body. His mind. His soul.

When Maren and his brothers first told him of her existence, he’d wanted to drop everything and rush to the Alliance Military Command on Tooh 10 to steal her away. But his father and Maren had convinced him she needed to be approached cautiously, and then courted. After all, they’d reasoned, she’d been raised as a Terran woman. She held an important and vital military position. Despite the genetic advantage he had due to the
gemate
imprint, she still would not appreciate being swept away by a man claiming to be her mate.

Reluctantly, he’d agreed with their conclusions and thrown himself into researching Melina. He knew everything about her a data search, photo images, and his brothers’ and Maren’s words could tell him. But the important things—how she smelled, tasted, or felt in his arms as he made love to her—he could only discover once they met.

Wulf closed his eyes, the image of Melina fixed in his mind’s eye, and prayed, something he had not done since his early childhood.

* * * *

Jump Station Andromeda 2, Mu Arae solar system

Mel hung onto a computer console in the control center of the jump station, trying to keep from floating away. All around her red and yellow lights flashed and warning sirens blasted her eardrums, mixed in with the moans of the injured and screams of the frightened.

Papers, data pads, and anything not attached to a wall or floor drifted around her.

What was more disconcerting was the number of blood globules that hung in the air.

Some of it was hers, but most of it belonged to the two dead Antareans that now floated near the ceiling, or what now served as the ceiling.

Suddenly, the room rotated once more almost two hundred forty degrees.

Mel held on as everything suspended in the confined space bounced off solid surfaces like billiard balls.

“Nowicki,” she shouted to be heard above the chaotic noise. “Find someone to shut those damn sirens off. And let’s get the gravity fixed.”

“Working on it, Captain,” Nowicki shouted back just as all went silent.

The station slowly reoriented itself. The dead Antareans fell to the floor not two feet from her. Their scaly green skin covered in rust-colored blood. It had taken more than laser blasts to take the bastards down; lasers barely pierced through their tough hides.

She’d finally resorted to her serrated battle blade. Severing their major blood supply had been their death knell. A messy one.

Was it any wonder the Alliance wanted to ally with the Prime? The Prime had fought against the Antareans’ arrival in the Milky Way for eons and survived to tell about it. She wished she’d had some Prime inside information, or at the very least some of their specialized weapons, to stop the tough-skinned bastards. Might have saved her time and some of her own skin and blood. Combat by trial-and-error was no way to fight.

Feet solidly planted on the deck once more, she let out a breath. “Whoever fixed all that at once, please give them my heartfelt thanks.”

“You’re very welcome, Captain.” Her chief engineer, Commander A’tem, sent her a snappy salute. “We have complete control of the facility once more, sir. The jump gate is back online and can accept space traffic once again. The Antareans hadn’t gotten any farther than gravity control when we boarded.”

The damn pseudo-reptiles didn’t need gravity. They just used their little suckers and walked along any surface. She shuddered as she recalled how the one had dropped on her from above. But he was dead, she wasn’t—and in the final analysis that was all that counted.

“Thank you for the report. Continue to render the jump station crew any assistance they might need.” Turning to Ensign J’ar, she asked, “What is the status on the remainder of the Antarean boarding party?”

“Two-thirds are dead. The remaining third are contained in a cargo area and are under guard, awaiting Alliance military police to arrive and remove them to the penal holding cells on Tooh 10.”

“Excellent work, Ensign.”

The tall Volusian smiled. “Just doing our job, sir.”

“Did we track the mother ship that carried the boarding party?” she asked Nowicki.

“Blue Squadron arrived right on our heels and picked them up. The Antarean ship engaged several of Captain Warten’s battle cruisers and was destroyed in the ensuing battle.”

Thank God for that.

“Convey my congratulations to Captain Warten and his men. Advise Alliance Military Command that we are in control of the station and will finish cleaning up while waiting on the cruiser to take away the prisoners.”

“Uh, Captain, ma’am.” The communications officer of the jump station stood next to Mel, a nervous look on the woman’s too-pale face.

“Yes, Ms. Baldwin, isn’t it?” The young woman’s nervousness melted away under Mel’s use of her name and kindly smile. Being forcefully boarded by anyone was stressful, but being boarded by Antareans was especially scary. The new scourge of the galaxy was the stuff of nightmares. It was amazing the young woman wasn’t on the floor in a fetal position. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s an emergency call for any Alliance military ship within this region.” The young woman swallowed. “It’s from the
Galanti
. It’s a Prime starship that came through the jump about one galactic standard hour before we were attacked. They’ve been attacked also, ma’am.”

“By Antareans?”

“No, ma’am,” stuttered Ms. Baldwin. “Or, at least—”

“Replay the message for me, please.” Mel strode over to the com-panel.

Ms. Baldwin keyed in the code. A deep, gravelly voice boomed from the speakers:

“This is the Prime ship
Galanti
, carrying the ambassadorial delegation. We’ve been
boarded by pirates. We are under a Code Argenta. Repeat, a Code Argenta. Any Alliance
ship within ninety-six standard hours of this message, please respond as quickly as
possible. Contact Prime Military Command for specifics on Argenta.”
The message then repeated on an eternal loop.

Mel shivered. The voice of the unknown Prime male pierced her very soul. She knew she would do anything possible to reach him—them—in time. Especially since she knew very well what a Code Argenta was.

“Code Argenta?” Ensign A’tem muttered. “What does it mean?”

“It means,” muttered Mel, “if we don’t get to them within ninety-six standard hours of this message, they’ll blow the ship.”

“How do you know that, Captain?” Nowicki asked.

“I helped my father translate some ancient Prime military treatises. I thought that the self-destruct tactics were eliminated as wasteful and barbaric several centuries ago,” she replied, frowning.

“I guess they brought them back.” Nowicki grimaced.

Her second-in-command’s distaste over the order of mass suicide by a military captain was obvious in his demeanor. The thought of having to make such a command decision made her sick to her stomach, but she understood the ancient Prime reasoning. It was a “scorched earth” philosophy: if we can’t beat you, we won’t leave you anything to help you kill our people. Maybe the Prime’s ongoing battle against the Antareans had necessitated the re-institution of such a drastic measure.

“I guess,” Mel finally replied.

Capturing Nowicki’s gaze, she issued orders rapidly as she strode to the jump station control room exit. “Get ready to disembark. Leave one of our battlecruisers here to aid the jump station staff until the M.P.s get here. Send a message to Alliance Command that we will respond to the
Galanti
’s distress call. Then contact the rest of our squadron and Warten’s. Give them the
Galanti’s
coordinates. Tell them to get there as soon as they can, then hold position well away from the
Galanti.
Figure safety distance for a total fission reaction and then add half again as much.”

“Should I contact the
Galanti
and tell them help is on the way?” Ms. Baldwin called out.

Mel stopped and turned. “No. I don’t want any other enemies in the area to know we are on the way. We’ll contact the Prime only if we cannot make it to them in time.” They’d make it—or die trying. She wouldn’t allow the Prime captain to sacrifice the Ambassador and his delegation or the ship’s crew.

She led her men out the door and into the corridor leading to the docking spokes.

“Tell Warten that I want his ships to keep anyone other than Alliance ships from approaching the area. Plus, I don’t want any pirates escaping the Prime ship. Only the
Leonidas
’s teams will approach and dock. I’m not taking any chances on blowing up anyone else.”

“So, we get to be the only lucky ones, huh?” Nowicki quipped.

“Yes. Isn’t that why you signed on to this dog-and-pony show? For the thrills and chills?”

Nowicki just laughed and saluted as he waved her ahead of him into their shuttle.