Outcast Heart

Unjustly shunned by her people, Nessa dan Ranul knew she was unlovable—but when an opportunity arose for her to save her world, she leapt at the chance, disregarding her own life. Setting out for the farthest reaches of the galaxy, she had one goal: to elude capture and deliver her race from destruction. But then she found herself at the questionable mercy of Chase McKnight, a handsome bounty hunter whose hard-muscled arms both captured and protected. Suddenly, Nessa found that escape was the last thing she wanted. In Chase’s passionate embrace she’d found a nirvana of which she’d never dared dream—with a man she could never dare trust. But as her identity remained a secret and her missions incomplete, each passing a day brought her nearer to oblivion. Nessa knew the truth could save her, but could she risk trusting her heart?

Only one object adorned the pitifully small grave. A toy. A pretend phaser, crudely fashioned from binea wood.

Once again, the spirit of death showed no compassion, no discrimination in choosing its prey. The venom of the Orana virus had performed the evil purpose the Controllers intended. Their latest victim a young child, barely four seasons old.

She did not care! She could not care . . . .

Feelings, emotions, were something Nessa had buried deep inside, eons ago. Yet, if she felt anything--anything at all--it would be for the children, the ones who had not yet come to despise her.

Sinking into a crouch, she rested her head against the safe barrier separating the living from those who had passed into lethe. The damp wind plastered wisps of her roughly-shorn brown hair against her cheek. Her leg throbbed in protest against the pressure and the dampness. She ignored the pain, as she had every day these last ten seasons.

No time to dwell on her grievous shortcomings, not when the future of her entire race lay at stake. The Controllers had created a weapon more horrible, more devious than any fusion cannon or photon torpedo. A deadly virus, capable of breaching and destroying a Shielder's natural mind barrier--their only protection against Controllers.

Nessa pushed upright, stretching to find relief from the aching stiffness. Shivering, she hugged her worn tunic closer to her thin body. She limped away from the burial grounds and into the main compound, territory normally forbidden to her.

Outside the assembly hall entrance she paused, gathering her courage. She already knew why the Council had adjourned the meeting inside--and what must be done. She turned for another look at the barren terrain which was both her home and her prison. If the Council accepted her offer, she might never again see the distant mountains, or the ever-present haze drifting around the rock formations.

Taking a fortifying breath, Nessa entered the assembly. Built within a massive cave, the hall was large enough to hold every citizen of the Shielder colony. Even the press and heat of so many bodies couldn't completely dispel the damp coolness pervasive to all the caves and dwellings in the colony. The dim lighting from the solar lanterns added little in the way of comfort or warmth.

Fortunately, the entrance opened at the rear of the hall, so no one noticed her presence. At the far end, the Council members sat upon a raised dais around a massive half-circle of stone. The Council head, Captain Ranul san Mars, stood explaining the crisis. Nessa slipped to the side of the crowd, where she could observe her father speaking.

"Our situation is critical. Five more colonists have been infected. We can delay no longer. We must take a sample of the Orana virus to our laboratory at Sonoma. It's the only Shielder facility capable of developing an antidote," Captain san Mars told the gathering. "As if that isn't challenge enough, there's another problem. With the Controllers' agents scanning most interstellar space vehicles, the virus must be transported via a live host to prevent detection."

The crowd reacted audibly as his meaning sank in. The virus would be carried within the volunteer's body. Preferably someone dispensable, Nessa thought.

Someone such as herself.

"The person must be able to man a star-class ship," Commander Jarek san Ranul added. "Only a star class is capable of the trek."

Nessa drank in the sight of her brother, pride momentarily dimming her inner turmoil. Jarek displayed the calm, controlled assurance befitting a future Council head, the position he would inherit from their father. He represented everything she would never be.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Captain san Mars scanned the faces of the Shielders grouped around the hall. They shifted their feet nervously, shaking their heads and shrugging.

Elder Gabe san Ardon stepped forward. "I'll go. My fighting skills are waning and I'm an old man. Let me carry the virus."

Murmurs of protest swept the room. Everyone respected the elder, a knowledgeable and skillful battle tactician. Most certainly they would prefer Nessa's alternative. Fear surged through her, followed by a flare of determination. No matter how disfigured she might be, no matter how flawed, she was still a Shielder, sworn enemy of the Controllers. She would never be allowed into combat against them, but she could still contribute to the cause. Resolute, she shoved her way to the front of the crowd.

"Don't sacrifice someone of value. Send me instead."

Startled gasps of outrage and horror filled the room, as the crowd around her hastily parted and pressed back a safe distance. Nessa ignored them, but Ranul's icy, dispassionate gaze pierced her bolstered bravado.

"You know you are not allowed here," he stated coldly. "Get out, or I will have you removed."

Not just her father's callous words, but also his granite expression, wrenched Nessa deep inside. No love, no warmth, no sign of concern--of any feeling at all--for his only daughter, showed on his face. Sometimes she thought even hatred would be preferable to this frigid indifference.

She almost forgot her purpose here, tormented by the unanswered litany rising from her soul. Spirit of Being, why me? She pushed aside the futile question. Adrenaline pounded through her body, but she managed to meet Ranul's glare evenly. "You have no other use for me, Captain."

"Aye, you are right about that. Not only are you useless to this colony, but your presence only upsets its members." Ranul glowered accusingly at Jarek.

Mutterings of agreement rose around Nessa. No need to put Ranul's thoughts into words. She shouldn't be alive to plague the colony, partaking of their pitifully few resources--and wouldn't be, if not for Jarek.

Clenching her hands tightly at her side, she drew herself up to her slight height. "Then let me carry the virus to Sonoma."

"Foolishness!" Elder Gabe scoffed. "The girl's not right in the head, we all know that. She couldn't possibly pilot a ship."

"Gabe's right," Mara, a female soldier, agreed. "Possessed as she is, she probably couldn't get to Sonoma, much less communicate with the technicians there."

"She's crazy, that's what she is."

"Get her out of here before she jinxes us."

Derisive opinions echoed around the hall. Through it all, Nessa forced herself to stand quietly, to give no outward sign of recognition to the barbs. She'd heard them many times before.

With an angry slash of his arm, Ranul silenced the protestors. "Enough! It's agreed we can't let a simple-minded girl who knows not the first thing about starships carry the virus to Sonoma. Nessa! Leave now."

"I know how to pilot a starship. I've flown one many times." Nessa turned toward her brother. "Tell them, Jarek."

All eyes focused on Jarek, who shook his head warningly at Nessa. "Her offer is unacceptable. I'm one of your best pilots. I will go."

She knew he wanted to protect her, like he had all these seasons. Like he had when the members of the colony voted to have her euthanized after her seizures began, causing the ensuing injury. Afraid to die, she'd allowed him to intervene on her behalf. Nessa had despised herself for her cowardice. But no more.

"Let this wretched life have some worth," she pleaded to her brother. "By the Spirit, Jarek, let me contribute like everyone else."

Jarek stared at her a long moment, finally dropping his head in resignation. He turned to Ranul with a sigh. "She does know how to fly a starship, Sir. I taught her. I took her with me on solo reconnaissance missions. She's an adequate pilot."

Shock etched across Ranul's face, followed by a flush of anger. "You had no right. But we'll deal with that matter later. Right now, we have more pressing concerns." His gaze settled on Nessa, assessing.

"So, you can pilot a ship, and you volunteer to carry a sample of the virus to Sonoma?"

Her heart careened on a runaway course, both from trepidation and excitement. "Yes, I volunteer."

"And you are aware the virus will be implanted within your body and that you will develop an active case of Orana within one moon cycle?"

Her throat constricted, but she pressed on. "Yes."

"I assume you are also aware that those with Orana lose the function of their mind shields, leaving them defenseless against the Controllers. Within days after shield loss, they die a hideous death."

"I understand fully."

Ranul perused her a moment longer, then turned to the Council members. "We could pre-program the ship's destination and lock out override. Then she wouldn't be able to alter the course. She'd just have to monitor the basic ship functions. I vote aye."

Three of the four Council members on his right raised their hands in agreement. Two of the four on his left also raised their hands. Ranul nodded. "It is decided then. Leonessa dan Ranul will carry the virus to Sonoma."

Cries of outrage and protest swept the hall. Ranul silenced them once again with a motion of his arm. "It has been decided. Unless one of you wants the honor of being implanted with Orana. Who will come forward?"

His challenge deflated the crowd's displeasure. They dispersed, considerably subdued. As awareness of her victory set in, the strength deserted Nessa's good leg. She stumbled and almost fell, but Jarek caught her. "I wish you wouldn't do this," he told her.

She raised her eyes to his concerned expression. "I have to," she whispered. "I can no longer endure this existence."

Even if she had just signed her death warrant.

Clutching her bundle against her, Nessa approached her mother. Her belly throbbed where the Orana virus had been injected, and the crude fabric of her pilgrim's tunic, even rougher than her usual clothing, scraped against her skin. Ranul and Jarek had concocted her disguise of a pilgrim traveling to Zirak to pay homage at the goddess Shara's shrine.

A clever idea, since Zirak was only two days' light travel from Sonoma. Many pilgrims went there this time of year. Her disguise would easily deceive the Anteks who patrolled all airspace for the Controllers.

But Nessa wasn't thinking of her masquerade as she approached Meris. Although she had hardly spoken with her mother these ten seasons past, a compelling need drew her now. With her world about to change forever, the possible end of her life looming, Nessa yearned for the comfort only a mother could provide. Childish, she knew, but then she'd been just a child the day her parents turned their backs on her.

Harsh, but the reality of Shielder existence everywhere in the galaxy. The Controllers had driven the Shielders into the most destitute expanses of space. With so few resources available, necessity dictated survival of the fittest. Parents shared their meager supplies and limited energies only with their healthy offspring. No time to mourn those euthanized or left behind to die.

A difficult reality for a girl of twelve seasons to understand. Even after ten seasons, the pain of desertion lingered like a festering wound.

Meris maintained the weapons for the colony's combat units. Intent on the rocket launcher she was cleaning and inspecting, she appeared oblivious to her daughter's presence. Nessa watched her work. With efficient competence, Meris quickly dismantled then reassembled the launcher.

Gray had not yet streaked her limp and faded brown hair. Yet despite the fact she was not an old woman, deep lines scored her face, the result of Liron's unrelenting weather and the severe living conditions all Shielders endured.

"Meris." Nessa stepped forward, unable to bring herself to use the familial title. She no longer had that right.

Her mother's head snapped up, her gaze narrowing. She set the launcher down with a clank. "What do you want?"

"I'm getting ready to depart for Sonoma."

Meris drew herself up to the regal height Nessa would never reach. "So I heard. Why are you here?"

Why indeed? Had she expected her mother to greet her with open arms? To wish her well?

Nessa struggled to find words, which did not come readily to her. Normal conversation had ceased for her ten seasons ago. Outside the sounds of nature, her world was one of enforced silence, broken only by brief, clandestine visits with her brother Jarek; or Council meetings she overheard through furtive monitoring of the computer system. Or when the younger children, forgetting the dire warnings that she was possessed, ventured near her solitary quarters, sometimes even speaking to her.

"I wanted to tell you good-bye."

Meris stared at her, seemingly uncaring. With a glimmer of insight, Nessa thought perhaps the only way a parent could turn their back on their child was by forcing themselves to no longer care. Her parents had certainly succeeded.

"Well, you've said it," Meris stated gruffly. "Be off with you, then." She whirled and strode into the hut behind her.

That was that. Fighting waves of despair, Nessa slid her burlap pack on her back and trudged away. Her mother would feel differently when she returned with an antidote for the virus. They all would.

Once out of sight of Meris, she stopped and pulled the pack off her back. It wiggled as she unhooked the closures. When she opened the flap, a fuzzy head popped out. Four beady black eyes stared at her. Chatters of greeting filled the air, and a long furry body squirmed out. "Turi! Get back in there." She scooped the lanrax into her arms. "I just wanted to check on you."

Turi immediately nestled against her chest, nuzzling her neck. His frantic chattering calmed to a series of contented clicks. With a sigh, he rested his head on her shoulder.

Jarek had given Turi to Nessa two seasons ago. Small, endearing mammals, lanraxes bonded for life with only one owner, usually the first person to place their scent on them. Turi had bonded with Nessa instantly. Other than her brother, he provided her sole companionship.

"Nessa! Wait up!"

She turned to see Jarek hurrying down the hill. He grinned when he saw the lanrax. "I'm glad you're taking Turi. He'll be good company on the trip."

Nessa stroked Turi's soft fur. He was one of the few joys in her life. She couldn't leave him, although she refused to think what might happen to him if she didn't make it to Sonoma in time.

"I wanted to see you off," Jarek said.

"Oh." She was so accustomed to her lonely existence, it hadn't occurred to her anyone would concern themselves with her departure.

"Come, let me escort you to your ship." He fell into place beside her. They headed toward the cliffs, where deep caves carved into the steep rock expanses hid the Shielder ships. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

After a short climb up a steep embankment, they entered the cave where Nessa's ship stood ready. The transport shuttle had seen better days. It didn't appear very space worthy. Given the importance of her mission, Nessa had expected a military class ship. At least the shuttle was a model capable of light speed.

"I'm sorry this one is so old," Jarek apologized. "But we feared a defense interceptor or scout ship would raise suspicions. Pilgrims traveling to a shrine wouldn't be likely to travel in such ships."

Nessa nodded, pushing back her disappointment.

"Your computer has been pre-programmed with flight instructions," he continued. "The ship will operate on auto pilot and fly directly to Sonoma. You won't have to do anything except monitor the equipment." He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. Turi hissed warningly at this close intrusion by another person.

"Nessa, listen to me. Maybe I was wrong to allow you free reign of Liron's computer system. You're probably more knowledgeable about computer programming than anyone in the colony. We both know you're capable of overriding this ship's computer and disabling the flight instructions. I'm asking you not to do that. Let the auto pilot do its job and fly the ship. I don't want you taking any unnecessary chances. You should reach Sonoma in one week, three weeks ahead of full incubation."

Barring any number of unforeseen problems, Nessa thought. Four weeks. She only had four weeks before Orana ravaged her body. She didn't plan on taking any chances. "I'll leave the computer alone, Jarek. When I reach Sonoma safely, I'll send word."

He didn't look reassured. "I wish you hadn't volunteered for this mission. Elder Gabe had already offered. He's old, and has lived a full life. You should have kept quiet, and remained here where you're safe."

"I don't want to be safe. What good is safe when I have no life? I want to help our people."

"And you think they will honor you for your efforts?" Jarek gestured toward the direction of the colony.

He knew her well. She had long fantasized about again becoming an accepted member of the Shielder colony. Of regaining love and respect from her parents. Dreams best left unspoken.

She turned toward the shuttle. "I'd better be off."

"Wait." Jarek withdrew a small pouch from his tunic. "Even though your ship will travel directly to Sonoma, I want you to take these, in case you need them for any reason."

Nessa heard the clink of precious coins as he pressed the pouch into her hand. Her heart swelled at his generosity and sudden tears glazed her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered shakily. "Good-bye, brother."

Jarek dabbed at the moisture in his own eyes. "The Spirit be with you, sister. Take great care."

Then he did something no one had done since Nessa's first seizure.

He hugged her.

Stranded in space.

Only two days out, the main stardrive quit functioning. Nessa had no expertise in repairing stardrives, but it wouldn't have mattered if she had. A search of the ship's storeroom revealed no spare parts. Spaceships of any kind were in short supply among Shielders, much less parts.

Ships seldom traveled this area of the sector. She would have to send out a distress signal, even though transmitting any signal presented risks. She could attract space pirates, Anteks--or worse--Controllers.

But she had no choice. Her only other option was waiting for the Orana to incubate fully. That would solve the problem of her miserable existence, but wouldn't help her people. Her biological clock ticked away. Genuine fear gnawed at Nessa. Realizing how badly she wanted to live surprised her.

She activated the signal.

Two days passed before a ship responded. Nessa was crouched in front of the open stardrive casing, studying a technical schematic when the incoming message alert activated. She scrambled to the control panel. Before answering the hailing ship, she studied the sensor readings.

The approaching ship appeared much larger than her shuttle, possibly three or four times in size. Although the sensors classified the ship as a private long-range cruiser, they indicated it was loaded to the hilt with advanced scanning equipment and armaments. Nuclear rockets, particle accelerators, laserlances, and more.

Only Controllers or their agents were allowed to operate spaceships so equipped in this sector. Dread settled over Nessa, but she knew she had to answer the hail or raise suspicions. She opened voice communication.

"Who are you and what are you doing in this sector?" a male voice roared over the communicator. A deep, resonant, arrogant voice. Not the wavering, whispery utterance of a Controller. But the voice could belong to an Antek.

"I'm Nessa Ranul," she answered, dropping the `dan' from her name. Only Shielders used the system of naming sons and daughters after their fathers. "I'm on a pilgrimage to Zirak to honor our mother goddess Shara."

"Turn on your video transmitter."

With shaking hands, Nessa raised the hood of her pilgrim robe over her head, grateful the computer had provided thorough files on the cult worship of Shara. She pressed the pad, watching the screen. No visual appeared. The man had not turned on his transmitter. He could see her, but she couldn't see him. She stood stiffly while he completed his one-way perusal.

She jumped when he suddenly barked, "Why is your distress signal on? Are you ill or injured?"

His curtness offended her. Although she couldn't see the man, Nessa quickly decided she didn't like him. She stared levelly at the videocorder. "My stardrive is inoperable. I need assistance repairing my ship."

He snorted contemptuously. "Pilgrim, your ship looks older than your sun. I don't have the parts you'd need for repairs. I doubt they would be for sale anywhere. When I get to the next star base, I'll send a tow ship for you."

Alarm edged aside Nessa's intensifying dislike for the man. With the Orana growing inside her, she couldn't wait for a tow ship. If her ship couldn't be repaired, she needed a ride to the nearest transport. Jarek's coins would ensure her passage to Sonoma. "It could take days for a ship to get here from a base," she argued, struggling to keep her voice calm. "I can't wait that long."

"I don't have time to play rescuer. A ship will be here in a week. If you're low on supplies, I can give you some. What do you need? Be quick about it."

A week! Full-blown panic surged. Nessa gripped the console, searching for words to convince this insolent, cold person to help her without revealing her true identity. "I can't wait a week. I need to get to the shrine of Shara. I must be there for the eclipse. Please, you have to help me."

"I don't have to help anyone, pilgrim. If you don't need supplies, I'm on my way."

"No, wait!" Tremors shook Nessa, and she feared she'd have a seizure then and there. Sucking in a deep breath, she willed herself to calm. "The eclipse coinciding with the festival of Shara occurs only once every fifty seasons. I'll never again have this opportunity to receive the full blessing of the goddess."

She paused, mentally sorting arguments. "Take me with you. You can leave me at the star base. I'll catch a transport from there. Please. This is very important."

A long, tortuous interval of silence ensued. "How many are aboard your ship?" he finally demanded.

Nessa hesitated, surprised. His advanced scanners should have provided him that information.

"Answer me, pilgrim. How many?"

"Just one."

"That's odd. I'm picking up two life forms. I don't give passage to people I can't trust. No deal."

Her thoughts whirled. His readings made no sense, unless--Turi. "I also have a pet on board," she told the man. But he's the only other living creature on the ship. I swear on the goddess."

"I don't give a flying meteorite about your goddess." An irritated sigh rumbled over the com line. "But since you foolishly carry no viable armament, you probably won't last the week against pirates if I leave you here. Prepare for my boarding."

Relieved, she sagged against the console, easing the weight off her throbbing leg. The arrogant voice thundered through the com again. "You may bring only what you can carry. I'm not a freighter service. And be fast about it. We leave in five minutes."

Startled, she bolted upright. Seeing no need for further discussion, she nodded and cut the visual. She rushed to gather her few belongings. The pouch with the coins went into the inside pocket of her tunic. She slipped her magnasteel dagger, the only weapon she'd managed to keep in her possession since her injury, into her boot.

She filled a large knapsack with her meager food supply. Turi went, chattering in protest, into a smaller pack. "Hush," she told him. "Not a peep out of you."

Her last act was to erase all records from the computer. No information which might lead to Liron could be left behind. The Controllers offered tempting rewards to those who found Shielder colonies. Their determination to wipe out the only race capable of resisting their mind domination was fanatical.

As she finished activating the delete program, she felt the thud of a ship docking with hers. Her rescuer--whomever he was--had arrived.

Nessa slipped the small pack with Turi over one shoulder, then picked up her supplies. She faced the airlock as the panel slid open. The man stepping through the panel towered over her, but he wasn't an Antek. The ape-like Anteks were stupid brutes. She sighed in relief, realizing her rescuer's obvious intelligence should have negated that possibility. The innate ability to sense her own kind--which all Shielders possessed--told her he wasn't a Shielder either.

He appeared massive, broad of shoulders and through the chest. The black flightsuit stretched taut across his muscled frame emphasized his size. Cold gray eyes pinned her to the spot, glaring at her from a harsh, chiseled face. Dark-blond hair brushed against the top of his flightsuit. Distracted by his appearance, she realized belatedly he held an activated phaser trained on her.

He moved rapidly for his size, striding to her and skimming her with a hand scanner. His sudden loud sneeze sent her heart pounding even faster. "Blazing hells, the dust in here! Your air filtration system must not be working properly." Scowling fiercely at her as if that were her fault, he resumed scanning. "Remove your weapon."

Defiance was risky, but Nessa hesitated giving up her only protection. "What weapon?"

His eyes narrowed to silver slits. "The weapon in your boot, pilgrim. Don't play games with me. One more challenge from you, and I'll leave you here to rot. That clear?"

She nodded, slipping the dagger out and offering it to him. He slid the scanner into his flightsuit and took it, his large hand engulfing hers. He sneezed again.

Muttering under his breath, he whirled and strode to the open stardrive. He squatted and peered inside. After a moment, he released a low whistle. "The primary driver coil is cracked right down the middle. The whole unit will have to be overhauled. This ship isn't going anywhere."

He rose and sneezed again. "By the fires of the Abyss, your polluted air is going to suffocate me. We'll finish this on my ship. Come on, get moving." Picking up Nessa's bag of supplies, he swung behind her, prodding her toward the airlock. Well aware of the phaser still trained on her, she moved to do his bidding.

But her leg, stiff from her standing so long, refused to cooperate. It collapsed and she pitched forward. The man snaked an arm around her and yanked her up before she hit the floor.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

His arm pressed upward against her breasts like a steel band. Mortified, Nessa balanced on her good leg and tried to pry his arm away. He didn't budge.

"Nothing's wrong," she gasped, still tugging. "I tripped."

He released her and she almost stumbled again. "Try to be less clumsy. Let's go."

Nessa started forward. Her leg held the weight this time, although she couldn't control her limp. He didn't comment, but then, he was too busy sneezing--three times--before they got through the airlock into his ship.

He closed the hatch, then lowered her supplies to the floor. His relentless gaze settled on her again. "What's wrong with your leg?"

Nessa didn't discuss her injury with anyone, not even Jarek. "Nothing. I'm just stiff from standing so long."

He sneezed and shook his head angrily. "That's what I get for stopping," he muttered, taking her arm. "Over here, pilgrim. No one enters my ship without being decontaminated first."

"What's that?" she asked warily, digging in her heels.

He gave an impatient jerk, pulling her toward a panel. "Just some sterilizing rays which remove germs and dirt." He stopped in front of the panel, pointing to her tunic. "Take that filthy rag off. I'll clean it in the conclave. If that doesn't do the job, it's refuse."

Nessa clutched her tunic, panic rising swiftly. She had never bared her body to anyone. "I will not. You can't destroy this. I have nothing else to wear."

He started to speak, then sneezed again--twice. She noticed his eyes beginning to water. "By the gods!" he snarled. "You try my patience, lady. And you brought that polluted air in here with you. Either that, or something on you is irritating my allergies." He jerked up her bag of supplies and began rifling through it.

Allergies? This incredible specimen of a warrior? Nessa found his behavior bewildering. And her people thought she was crazy. Tossing the supplies down, he spun her toward him. "Let me see the other bag."

Turi was in that bag. "No." Nessa tried to hang on to the knapsack, but he wrested it from her grasp. He raised the flap and Turi popped out, hissing angrily.

"A lanrax! You brought a frigging lanrax on my ship. I knew you were trouble the minute I saw your wretched excuse of a space vehicle." He hauled Turi from the sack by the scruff of his neck.

"That's the last time I stop to help anyone!" he roared. "By the gods, a pilgrim with a lanrax. It's not staying here." He strode down the corridor, sneezing repeatedly. Turi writhed and snarled, to no avail.

"What are you doing?" Alarmed, Nessa limped behind, cursing her leg for slowing her down.

Halting, he opened a window airlock and stuffed Turi in. "I'm allergic to lanraxes--very allergic. Any lanrax crossing my path regrets it. I'm jettisoning this creature out of here."

"No!" Frantic, Nessa lunged forward and grabbed his arm before he could push the eject pad. "You can't jettison him into space. He'll die!"

A diabolical grin spread across the man's face. "Exactly."

Hysteria flooded her. Losing all restraint, she threw herself against him, screaming. "Nooo! You can't do this. You don't understand . . . he's all I have. Please don't do this. Please . . . don't . . . . He's all I have!"

Sudden streaks of light flashed behind her eyes and she felt the beginning spasms rock her body. No, no! Not now . . . .

. . . her last conscious thought.

"It's about time you came around." The gruff voice penetrated the edge of Nessa's consciousness, but she didn't respond. Although necessity had trained her to sleep lightly and awaken instantly, the seizures left her sluggish and disoriented. And for some reason she couldn't quite grasp, she didn't want to wake up.

A faint hum vibrated over her forehead. "Come now, pilgrim, I know you can hear me. Open your eyes."

She knew the commanding, arrogant voice from somewhere . . . . No, she didn't want to remember that voice. She shook her head.

"Still trying my patience. How about this. Either open your eyes or get a stimulant injection."

Her eyes flew open. Steel-gray eyes, set in a cold face etched with disapproval, stared back. Him. His black-clad bulk filled her field of vision, making avoidance impossible. Memory returned--every excruciating detail of the moments before the darkness.

Turi. Grief slashed like a sharp blade through her body. She arched from the agony. He had jettisoned Turi. She clenched her eyes shut against the pain. Tension curled through her and light sparked behind her lids.

"Oh, no, you don't." A sharp twinge pierced her neck and the tightness flowed out of her muscles immediately. Limp, she sagged to the surface beneath her. But although her body was relaxed, her thoughts flowed clearly. The seizure. He must have stopped it.

Amazed, she opened her eyes again. He watched her, a frown on his face. His gaze shifted to the medical monitor he was scanning over her chest. Over the metallic blanket covering her bare chest. Her tunic was gone. As she struggled to absorb this information, he set the monitor aside.

"What just upset you so badly you almost sent yourself into another episode? I assume it's not my face, since you didn't react this way when you first saw me."

The painful memory rushed back, forming a burning knot in her chest. Grasping the blanket in her fists, she glared at the man responsible for Turi's demise. She had ceased hurling words long ago, instead internalizing her hurt and pain, so she held her silence.

His golden brows shot up as his gaze moved to the knotted cover. "There you go again." His warm hand slid over her cold fist. "Don't tell me all this stress is over a worthless lanrax."

Her stricken expression must have been answer enough. He shook his head in disgust. Moving back, he motioned toward the opposite wall. "That particular lanrax?"

Her head whirled to the side. There in a plexishield case, Turi stared back at her. Alive. He was plastered against the side, his mouth opening and closing in indignant protest. The case must be soundproof, since she couldn't hear his chattering.

She nodded, overwhelmed by relief, her eyes glued to the case. As the immediate joy of discovering Turi unharmed faded, worry about her predicament resumed. She shifted her gaze to the man. He wasn't sneezing and his eyes were no longer red. What was he planning now?

He seemed to read her thoughts. "Don't worry, pilgrim. That worthless creature is safe." He shot a damning glare at Turi. "As long as he's in the case, the dander is contained. I figure it's easier to let him live than to revive you from a seizure every five minutes." A determined expression crossed his face. "Now, about these seizures. How long have you been having them?"

Shame and humiliation engulfed her. No. She couldn't bear to go through this again. To go though the degradation and disgrace. If he thought she was possessed

. . . . He might jettison her. Jarek wasn't around to protect her this time. Scrambling upright, she grabbed the blanket, barely preventing it from slipping off her chest.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

She started to flee the table, but he moved like lightspeed, grabbing her waist and pinning her there. His eyes bored into hers. "My examination and medical monitor say differently. Not just these episodes, but your leg--"

"My leg is fine," Nessa insisted, struggling in earnest now. He restrained her easily, but she continued thrashing, mindless from rushing adrenaline. "There's nothing wrong with my leg! It's fine, it's fine, it's--"

"Stop it! I saw your leg, Nessa. And I want to know why it wasn't medically tended."

She slumped back, trembling uncontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me," she whispered.

He stared at her, his expression incredulous. But he eased his tight grasp. "Your leg could have been repaired. And you should receive treatment for your seizures."

She focused her gaze on her clenched hands. "I'm fine now, I tell you."

"There's no dishonor because you have seizures. You have a condition--a medical condition which has a name--and a treatment. You don't have to suffer these episodes. And there are surgical procedures which could help your leg."

Nessa refused to listen, refused to accept. She had survived too long by convincing herself she was okay, or at least functional. She didn't dare dwell on far-fetched hopes beyond her reach. She shook her head in denial. "I can get by. Just take me to the nearest star base. Then you'll be rid of me."

He exhaled angrily and released her. "Fine. Believe what you want, pilgrim."

He took her tunic from a nearby cabinet and tossed it to her. "I sterilized this while you were `resting', as you choose to call it. Get dressed. Join me in the cockpit when you're done. It's at the end of the corridor. We'll discuss the rules of this ship. And believe me, there are plenty.