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Authors: Catherine Spangler

BOOK: Shamara
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Next came freedom and a new life.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

The voices woke Jarek. A female voice, obviously upset, seeped into his consciousness, and he opened his eyes with a start. Where was he?

"This can't be possible," the female said. "Do the test again." That husky voice, very familiar somehow, came from the other side of a pale green screen standing to his right.

"I already ran it twice," came a deep masculine voice, also familiar. "The test is highly accurate. And the results are positive."

"I am not pregnant!"

"The medical scanner readings agree with the test. You
are
pregnant, Moriah."

Where was he?
Jarek looked around the cubicle, noting an array of monitors and equipment on the wall to his left. Low beeps and hums emitted from them. Although he was groggy, he realized he was on some sort of bed, with an IV strip on his arm and silver disks attached to his bare chest. He twisted to look down at the tile floor. The motion sent a spear of pain through his abdomen, and he sank back. He felt his body then, really felt it, the weakness and the soreness. What the—

"How could this have happened?"
shrieked the female on the other side of the screen.

"You mean you don't know?" came the dry response, edged with amusement. "Then I obviously haven't done my job as your physician. Let me explain what occurs when a man and a woman—ouch!" The loud thud sounded suspiciously like a fist hitting a body.

"That's not funny, McKnight! Of course I know how women get pregnant. What I want to know is how did
I
get pregnant?"

"The same way." Thud, thud, thud. "Would you please stop hitting me, Moriah? This is not my fault."

"Oh, I know whose fault it is. It's that worthless, irresponsible mate of mine. He didn't get a new birth control patch—I'd bet on it. Did he come to you for one?"

"Well, no—"

"That son of an Antek! I'm going to kill him."

Still disoriented, Jarek listened to the exchange intently, trying to figure out where he was. His head ached from the effort. He opened his mouth to call out, but only managed a croak.

Another voice—soft, sweet, feminine—spoke. "But, Moriah, a baby! How wonderful. Don't be upset. It's truly a blessing. You'll see."

Jarek absolutely knew that voice. His mind cleared enough that a name came to him. He tried to roll up, but it hurt too much. "Nessa," he gasped hoarsely. "Nessa!"

There was a moment of silence beyond the screen. Then a head popped around. His sister, her dark eyes wide, stared at him, a smile breaking across her delicate face. "Jarek! You're awake." She came to his side, placing her hand on his forehead. "Chase, he's awake."

"So I hear." Chase McKnight, Jarek's brother-in-law, strode around the screen, his large frame dwarfing his petite mate as he came up behind her. "How are you feeling?"

"I think I'll live," Jarek answered, the fog beginning to clear. If Chase and Nessa were here, then he must be on their ship, in Chase's sick bay. But why? "What happened to me?"

Chase moved around the table to study the equipment panel, and then turned to run a scanner over Jarek. "You don't remember?"

He tried to think. He had the vague impression of a black-clad figure with a mask, but his head was throbbing too much for him to recall more. "The details are a little vague," he admitted.

Chase looked at him, assessing him. "Do you know who we are?"

"Yeah, I know you, McKnight." Jarek glanced toward his sister, who hovered anxiously on his other side. "Nessa, how's he treating you?"

A radiant smile lit her face, and she squeezed his hand. "Wonderful, as always. Oh, Jarek, I'm so glad you're all right. When Celie contacted us, she thought—" She broke off and shook her head. "You gave us quite a scare, brother."

"You had a lot of people worried about you," said a low female voice. Moriah Travers stepped around the screen, stunning as always, with her bronze hair and golden eyes. "Sabin will be delighted to know you're okay, except I'm going to kill him first."

Jarek grinned weakly at his best friend's mate. "I hear you and Sabin are expecting an addition to your family. Congratulations."

Moriah snorted in disgust. "Make that one addition, and one subtraction. I call it zero population growth." She sighed. "Well, I guess there's nothing to be done now. I'm going to go break the news to Sabin—over his head." She leaned down and kissed Jarek on the cheek. "I'm glad you're going to make it.
You,
I would hate to lose. We'll check on you later."

She slipped back around the screen. Jarek tried to focus his thoughts. "What happened to me?" he asked Chase.

"That's what I would like to know," Chase answered. "I can tell you that you took a blast to the abdomen. And you didn't receive medical attention until I saw you about four hours later."

"You're telling me I survived a gut blast for four hours without treatment?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I didn't have four witnesses insisting that was the truth. But there's more to it than that, something I've never seen in all my seasons of medicine."

"What?"

"First off, you shouldn't have survived that long with an injury like you had. Secondly, by the time you got here, the wound had closed itself, scar tissue had formed, and the blood volume in your body was almost normal. Yet Celie, Lionia, Blake, and Radd all insisted the bleeding was profuse. They did nothing but apply pressure to the wound until we rendezvoused."

"What are you saying?"

"That somehow your body miraculously healed itself."

Jarek stared at his brother-in-law, certain he hadn't heard right. "That's not possible."

"Tell me about it. I've run all kinds of tests, searching for an explanation, but there is none. Yet the evidence is there. You were definitely injured. The wound is new and so is the scar tissue. And I can't discount the eyewitness accounts of four people I know and trust."

Stunned, Jarek closed his eyes, trying desperately to recall the events leading up to the shooting, and the actual shooting itself. He felt Nessa stroking his hand. Vague images shifted and focused. A woman, with flowing black hair and blue eyes, lying beneath him on a silken cover…both of them naked. The Pleasure Dome! His eyes flew open. "Where was I when I got shot?"

Nessa and Chase exchanged glances. "At the Pleasure Dome on Saron," she said softly.

Then that part of the memory was true. But there were a lot of gaps. "How did I get here?"

"Radd's sister is a courtesan at the Dome," Chase explained. "She happened to be nearby and heard the blasts. When you asked her to contact Celie, she apparently connected you with us and did as you requested. Very astute lady. Celie and the others brought you here. It's only been one cycle since you were shot. They're all still here, as a matter of fact. Celie's ship is docked with mine, and Sabin's is docked with hers. Blake flew your ship out, and it's docked with Sabin's. We've got a full crew. Hell, we've got a space station."

Jarek still couldn't call up the details. "When can I talk to the others?"

"Rest a few more hours. Then, if you can keep down some liquids, we'll let the gang visit."

Jarek's recovery seemed to progress rapidly from there. He drank some broth, even stood and took a few steps, although his legs were shaky. The effort tired him, but his mind was alert, and bits of memory began returning.

Chase gave the okay for visitors, and Nessa, Celie, Blake, Lionia and Radd all piled into the sickbay, with Sabin and Moriah right behind them. At least Sabin had survived the encounter with his mate, Jarek thought, deciding now was not the time to tease him about his carelessness. Chase removed the screen, so the group could crowd around Jarek. He felt foolish, lying there with everyone towering over him, but accepted the fact he was still too weak to be up.

In view of his brush with death, he was glad to see his friends, who were more like family. Sabin was also a Shielder, and like a brother to Jarek. Sabin had married Moriah, a mastermind smuggler, six seasons back, inheriting a ragtag community consisting of seven women and one starship mechanic. Not just any mechanic, either; Radd was the best in the quadrant.

Celie, Moriah's younger sister, now headed up the highly profitable delivery service. The Shielders had benefited tremendously from Sabin's alliance with Moriah, gaining a badly needed lifeline of supplies and medicine. And Radd generously offered his services, keeping the aging Shielder fleet in running order.

Then there was Jarek's sister, Nessa, and her husband, Chase, a highly skilled physician. Together, they all formed an extended family, Shielder and non-Shielder, whose members were extremely loyal to each other. Blake wasn't an immediate member of the "family," but he was a good and trusted friend. He gave Jarek the once over. "You're looking a hell of a lot better than when I last saw you."

"Considering what I've been told, that's a good thing. Fill me in, will you?" Jarek requested. "I remember someone bursting through the panel and shooting me, but not much after that."

"I hope you remember the events
before
that," Blake said. "The lady with you was a real beauty. And you were—ah—without clothing, so I assume the evening wasn't a total loss."

"And if it wasn't, I hope you have a current birth control patch," Moriah sniffed, shooting Sabin a scathing glare. Looking somewhat laser-shocked, her mate wisely moved a safe distance away.

As a matter of fact, Jarek did have some memories that were rapidly sharpening into focus as the medications Chase had given him wore off. A pretty, heart-shaped face dominated by vivid blue eyes; a wealth of ebony hair, tangling in his fingers as he explored smooth flesh…

"He remembers, all right," Chase interjected. "His heart rate just went up."

"Yeah, that's an interesting expression on your face, Captain," Blake teased.

Jarek forced his thoughts away from the sensual images of the woman and his shock upon discovering she was a virgin. He could sort out those events later. "Let's stay with issue of me being shot," he suggested. "The being that did it—human? Male?"

Blake nodded. "Both. I took off the mask before we disposed of the body. And there's something else."

Jarek already knew, if his recollection was correct. "He was a Shielder," he guessed.

"Yeah, the bastard was a renegade," Blake growled, fury sparking in his eyes. He hated those Shielders who turned against their race for profit almost as much as Jarek did. "Must have figured to sneak up on you while you were…occupied."

"I wasn't occupied when the attack came. I was standing near the entry panel, and—" Jarek looked around the group, urgent concern gnawing at him. "I didn't sense the man's presence until he was on me."

"That can't be right," Sabin protested. "You're the most sensitive Shielder I know. You would have sensed another one of your kind a hundred meters away."

"I picked up an unusual energy emission twice before that," Jarek mused. "It wasn't Shielder energy, but it threw me. The projection was brief both times. I wonder if it somehow blocked me from sensing the attacker."

"I don't like the sound of that at all," Blake said grimly. "That could mean the Controllers have found some way to neutralize our mind shields."

"I'm not sure this had anything to do with the Controllers," Jarek said slowly. "It felt like a natural energy, not a jamming frequency."

"I still don't like it," Blake persisted.

"The whole situation is strange," Celie pointed out. "What about the fact Jarek got shot in the gut, and not only survived four hours until we reached Chase, but his wound practically healed itself?"

They shook their heads in amazement, looking toward Chase, who shrugged. "I have no way of explaining it. I suggest we give thanks to Spirit, the ultimate healer."

"Jarek," Celie said slowly. "There's something else I need to tell you. I'm wondering if it might be related to that Shielder shooting you."

Her tone told Jarek he wouldn't like the news. "What is it?"

"The Controllers have offered a reward of ten thousand miterons for your live capture. Apparently, they want to "talk" with you before they execute you. They've offered five thousand if you're brought in dead. They've posted holograms of you on every major planet and star base, and on all agent downloads."

Blazing hells. Now every soldier and shadower and renegade Shielder in the quadrant would be looking for him. Jarek battled anger and a sense of futility. This latest development meant he was running out of time. He wasn't afraid of death, but there was so much left to do. And he could never allow himself to be taken alive; he knew too much.

"How in the Fires did they get your hologram?" Sabin asked.

"Probably when I was arrested on Intrepid five seasons back. That was the time you bailed me out, Sabin. The Controllers didn't know who I was then, but I'm sure there were plenty of renegades willing to enlighten them. Once they figured it out, they found the hologram in the file. Damn!"

"What will you do?" Nessa asked, her face pale.

Chase slid an arm around her and gathered her protectively to his side. It was a gesture Jarek had seen often, a positive reminder that she was well loved. This time, however, it only served to remind him he was utterly alone, despite this circle of family and friends. The suffocating weight of his responsibilities—the fate of an entire people—pressed down on him.

"I'll do whatever I have to," he said wearily.

Chase seemed to sense Jarek's exhaustion. "We can sort this out tomorrow," he said firmly. "No one but Lani knows Jarek is here, and Radd says she can be trusted. He's safe for now, and I want him to get some rest. Everyone out."

They all left, leaving Jarek alone in the semidarkness. He lay awake, battling the desperation and dark fears plaguing him. Everything seemed to be going from bad to worse.

The Controllers were getting more aggressive and more violent in their attempts to wipe the Shielder race from the face of the quadrant. The only plan he had for helping his people was based on nothing but pure speculation, with very high odds of failure—assuming he lived long enough to even attempt it. And he was only one man. He needed help, from a far greater source than himself.

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