Evil Wind

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New Concepts Publishing www.newconceptspublishing.com Copyright ©2007 by Charlotte Boyett-Compo First published in 2007, 2007 NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

EVILWIND By Charlotte Boyett-Compo © copyright February 2007, Charlotte Boyett-Compo Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright February 2007 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Dedication To Angie Evans, who has such wicked dreams of Kamerone...

Forward In the Terran year of 1994, Bridget Dunne became one of many young, beautiful and highly intelligent women to disappear from her world without a trace. Abducted from her college in Grinnell, Iowa, Bridie woke to find she was on board an alien space craft—along with nine other women—bound for the planet Rysalia Prime in a distant part of the universe far beyond her own galaxy. Bridie was just one more woman taken from her home world to a place where men ruled supreme and women were thought of as chattel to be bought and sold at whim. Because of her college training in the field of psychology, she was handed over to the Behavioral Modification Unit on Frontier Station Kahmsin-14 to work with Dr. Beryla Dean, an eminent biogenetic scientist. Before Bridie arrived on FSK-14, the women of Rysalia had begun organizing a resistance force to gain their freedom. They needed a powerful man among the Rysalians to ally with them to help them achieve their objective. They also needed to set a honey trap—an enticing female to catch the eye and attention of their reluctant target—and Bridie was chosen because a certain renowned warrior had once given her a lustful glance in passing. That man had been Prime Reaper Captain Kamerone Cree, the most feared man in the Rysalian Empire. An intergalactic shape-shifting killing machine, Cree had been charged with crimes he had not committed—crimes that had been staged by the Resistance to implicate the Reaper in their rebellion. As a result, he was remanded by the Ministry of Justice to the Be-Mod unit for reinforcement therapy—a torturous series of brutal sessions designed to bring him to his knees, to break him down to his lowest common denominator, and then strengthen his savage behavior. During these sessions, he would come into close contact with Bridie and the trap would be set. Unbeknownst to the Ministry of Justice, the Resistance had infiltrated the behavioral modification sessions and began using subliminal messages to turn Bridget into the only saving light in Cree's dark, painful world. Unable to get her out of his mind or keep his treacherous body from desiring her, the Prime Reaper developed an uncontrollable urge to have her for his own—consequences be damned—and he sets out to do just that. Neither Cree nor Bridget reckoned on a developing love that would bind them together for all time. Manipulated by the Resistance with deep-seated subliminals and psychotropic drugs, the two lovers would find themselves embroiled in a rebellion that would see hundreds of thousands of men dead in the space of two hours time and their world now run by women who wanted to eliminate Cree from the equation and place Bridget into the hands of his worst enemy. But no one had counted on a ragtag assortment of warriors who would rescue Cree from his planned execution and spirit him into the barren darkness of space in search of his woman. Having overtaken the ship on which Bridget was being held Cree dispatched his enemy, reclaimed his woman, but in the bargain was forced to terminate three women warriors whose race would issue a death warrant for his capture. Unaware he has been declared the most wanted man in the universe, Kamerone Cree wants only to live in peace with the woman he loves more than his own life. Fleeing to Bridget's home world where it was now 2062, Cree, his men and a handful of Terran women who had aided in Cree's escape from his near-death at the hands of the Resistance, must blend in seamlessly into this new world. Fate is with them and they are able to make new lives on Terra. On the way to Terra, Bridget gives birth to Cree's child, creating problems neither she nor the Reaper knows how to solve. Unable to hold his son for fear the beast within him will harm the child, Cree feels useless in this new life. He is a warrior whose talents can never be utilized on Terra. Unhappy, bored, and restless, he finds himself being stalked by a mysterious woman he knows is an alien bounty hunter. Realizing she must have been sent to bring him back to Rysalia Prime and a horrifying fate reserved

expressly for him, his uneasiness spills over into his family life, alienating him further from Bridie and their child. When Cree is captured by his dreaded adversary Dr. Hael Sejm right from beneath Bridget's nose and spirited back through time and space to his intended execution, Bridie is driven to her knees with fear for her husband. She knows all too well what will happen when the Reaper is returned to Rysalia. She turns to Tylan Kahn, the one man who can help her. Once more Cree's friends find a way to attempt his rescue and leaving their adopted world behind, set out to reach Cree before his fate is sealed. Their ship is disabled when struck by an asteroid and the warrioresses, who had taken Cree prisoner, are forced to land on the barren world of Montyne Vex to make repairs. It is while they are on that desolate world that the Reaper saves not one but three lives of his captors, thus assuring for himself a state of Attribution—his enemies’ lives now belong to him and they are sworn to protect him—no matter what. Now in command of the ship, Cree intends to return to Terra but begrudgingly the women warriors inform Cree his bloodkin are awaiting execution on Rysalia Prime. Cree knows before he can return to Bridget, he must do all he can to save the condemned men. Enlisting the aid of the women warriors and their goddess, the Reaper finds himself once more on the way to a world eagerly awaiting his destruction. With the help of those who were once his sworn enemies, Cree must find a way to save himself and his fellow Reapers from the fiery deaths awaiting them. Only then can Cree return to Terra, taking with him his rescued bloodkin and the warrior women who will never be able to return to their home world because they helped him. While Cree's ship and the ship of his friends are racing toward Rysalia Prime, the Prime Reaper's eldest bloodson—Khiershon—is having his own problems on their side of the universe. He, too, had been the target of the same race of women striving to bring his bloodsire to justice and has managed to escape just in the nick of time. Traveling with a Terran medivac ship from that worlds distant future, Khiershon will find himself as attracted to a Terran woman as his father before him and will Join with Caitlin Kelly in a ceremony that will bind them together for all time. As the ship carrying Kamerone Cree speeds toward Rysalia Prime, another bearing Cree's Terran friends in hot pursuit, Khiershon and his crew are also headed for the planet where the bloodthirsty Daughters of the Multitude now rule. Unaware his bloodsire has been captured and is destined for execution on the planet Khiershon is going there to rescue his bloodkin who are to be terminated on the Feast of Alluvial, only one month away.

Chapter One "He's dreaming again,” Lt. Cirolia Sern told her crew mates as she took her seat at the navigational console. She reached down to pet the old weretiger who was never far from her side. "Strange,” Major Akkadia Kahmal remarked. She was toying with the long red braid that hung over her left shoulder. “I was told that Reapers rarely dream." "If the E.S.U. system hadn't been damaged beyond my ability to repair it,” Lt. Melankhoia Chanz reminded them, “he wouldn't be having bad dreams and we wouldn't have to be spelling one another and doing each other's jobs." "Hey, I'm not complaining,” Lt. Augenia Deon spoke up. “I'm learning far more than I ever did at Fleet."

Lt. Renata Aegean looked up from her weapons/defense op monitor. “How do you know it's a bad dream he's having, ‘Lia?" "There are tears running down his cheeks,” Sern replied softly. Dorrie Burkhart—the only non-Amazeen and civilian member among the seven women onboard the Alluvia —looked up from the e-book she had been reading. “He misses his lady,” she said quietly. "Until I met Kamerone Cree, there was no way you could have ever convinced me Reapers were capable of crying,” Kahmal stated, “much less have feelings that could generate tears to begin with." "Kam is not an ordinary Reaper,” Dorrie snapped. “He is a man among men and...." "You're in love with him,” Kahmal interrupted. She didn't like the Terran woman and considered her a rival although neither had a chance with Kamerone Cree. Lifting her chin, Dorrie glared at the Amazeen Major. “I've never said I wasn't. He knows how I feel." "What is it with you Terran women?” Lt. Cedilla Tyrian, theAlluvia's engineer inquired. “Are you predisposed to fall for men like Cree?” When Dorrie shot her a nasty look, Tyrian held up her hands. “I'm only asking. No insult was intended, Burkhart." "No more so than Amazeen women are predisposed to want to enslave the men with whom they come in contact,” Dorrie snapped. “Terran women like strong men who won't let a woman walk all over him." "That would be our Cree,” Sern said with a chuckle. She glanced down at her pet weretiger. “Isn't that right, Ceatie?" The old weretiger lifted his head, swiped at his mistress’ hand, purred loudly, then went back to sleep at her feet. "I can't argue the point about the enslavement,” Kahmal said. “I do own a breeding farm on Amazeen." Dorrie blinked. “You do?" Kahmal shrugged. “I have about twenty-odd men there but they are well cared for. I don't abuse them as do some of our Sisters. The men seem content enough. I've never had to have one emasculated. They are not, however, what I would classify as strong men. I've never had one try to rebel." "That's because you treat them decently,” Deon commented. "The Major's farm is known for the quality of its breeders,” Sern told Dorrie. "I've utilized the services of one or two of the Major's studs,” Chanz reported, “but since the problem is with my plumbing, there won't be any little Chanzettes roaming the hills of Amazeen." "When I'm ready to retire, I might check out the men the Major owns,” Lt. Augenia Deon said entering the conversation. “I'd like to have a couple of little girls to teach." Dorrie shook her head. “You women make it sound like you're just heading over to the corner market

for a loaf of bread and a jug of milk. You're no better than the Rysalian Empire when all is said and done." Kahmal frowned. “I suppose if you look at it in that way, we aren't so different than the Empire was except in that they enslaved women, trading and selling them like cattle." "Isn't that what you Amazeen do?” Dorrie countered. “Don't you trade and sell men like they're cattle?" "Men are pigs, not cattle!” Aegean joked and everyone—including Dorrie—laughed at the jest. "I can't argue with you there,” Dorrie admitted. “The exception being Cree." "It's good to know you don't consider me a pig." The women looked around to see the Prime Reaper leaning against the bulkhead, his arms crossed over his brawny chest. Since his only pair of boots had been destroyed during one of his Transitions from humanoid to wolf-like creature, he was barefoot as he stood there and that made him even more strikingly sensual to the women. They wondered how long he'd been listening to their conversation but not a one of them dared to ask. "No, you're not a pig. A stubborn mule,” Dorrie suggested, “but never a pig, Kami." Rolling his eyes at Dorrie's use of an endearment he allowed only from his lady, Bridget, Kamerone Cree turned his attention from her to Kahmal, the Amazeen bounty hunter who had been dispatched to Terra to bring him back to Rysalia Prime for execution. “May I have a word with you, ‘Kadia?" "Will it take long? We're not that far from Diabolusian air space and I'd like to be on the bridge should we be hailed,” Kahmal told him. "Not long,” he replied and pushed away from the bulkhead. He turned in the direction of the Long Range Cruiser's lounge, just off the bridge. "He looks worried,” Dorrie said to no one in particular. "Perhaps his dreams disturbed him,” Kahmal mused. "Be gentle with him, Major,” Chanz said with a laugh. “He's a delicate little flower." "Aye, right,” Kahmal said with a snort. “He's about as delicate as a Chalean fly trap." Taking a seat at one of the tables in the lounge, Kamerone Cree stretched out his long legs, crossed his bare ankles, and relaxed as much as his nightmare would allow. His acute hearing had taken in Kahmal's statement and he thought perhaps the Amazeen women were beginning to know him better than he would have liked. When the Major took a seat beside him, he slipped casually into her consciousness and wasn't surprised to read her concern for his state of mind. "Stop worrying about me,” he said quietly. "Ain't gonna happen. Whatcha need, Reaper?" "I have a favor to ask of you,” he said without preamble.

Kahmal braced her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “All right." The Prime Reaper drew in a long breath then let it out slowly before he spoke again. “Should something happen to me and I am unable to return to Terra for whatever reason, I would like to make sure Dorrie is kept safe. I want you to promise me you will take her back to Terra and not let them put her in some gods-be-damned convent." "You have feelings for this Terran woman?” Kahmal asked, a part of her chaffing with jealousy. He turned to meet her gaze. “Not in the way you mean, no, but I feel a responsibility toward her. I would like to know she will be free to live her life as she sees fit." Kahmal stared into his amber eyes and became lost in the sadness she saw lurking there. She ached to reach out to him, take him in her arms, and comfort him but she knew he would not allow it. The only comfort he sought was many light years away. The only peace he would ever know would be in the arms of Bridget Dunne. "If I am able to take Dorrie there, I swear to you that I will,” she promised him. “If it looks as though there will be no way to return her to Terra, I will see to it she is taken somewhere there are worthy men.” She smiled. “Perhaps Serenia or Ionary." He nodded. “The man she had on Terra was Serenian. She would interact well with such men. They are strong enough to hold their own with her." "Serenia it is, then,” Kahmal agreed. Her palm itched to touch him but he was sprawled in the chair with his arms crossed defensively—some might say protectively—across his chest. “Is there anything else?" He unfolded his arms and tugged down the zipper of the dark green flight suit Kahmal had loaned him. It was one of hers and though it fit him perhaps a bit too snugly, the pant legs were long enough to cover his tall frame. Reaching inside the inner pocket, he pulled out an envelope, looked at it for a long moment, and then handed it to Kahmal. “I would like this to be given to my lady should it be that I will never see her again." Kahmal took the envelope—still warm from his body heat—and saw that it was sealed. A part of her longed to read what he had written but under no circumstances would she ever intrude on his privacy. She knew if there was no way she could ever return to Terra, the envelope, and its contents, would be destroyed. "There are two notes within the envelope,” he explained. “One is to my lady and the other to my son." At the mention of the son he had never been able to hold in his arms, to kiss, his forehead crinkled with sorrow. "Cree...” Kahmal began, “I—" "Even if we are successful in rescuing my bloodkin being held on Rysalia Prime and with the grace of your goddess we escape unscathed, my son will be nearly a man before I see Terra again,” he said, the misery in his voice there for anyone to hear. “I will have missed his first words, his first steps, all the little things that will make him Jaelin Cree."

Kahmal felt tears gathering in her eyes. She was the cause of this man's suffering and it bothered her more than she could admit to anyone, even herself. “You have to believe you will return to Terra, Cree." "I know you said you did not kill Tylan Kahn and I believe you. I also have to believe he has been able to care for my lady and our son as I would have.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and when he opened them, there was such grief shimmering there, Kahmal wanted to sob. “Kahn loves Bridget and he will make her a good husband if I am unable to return to her." The Amazeen Major could not endure his sorrow another instant without letting him know he had her if for some reason he could not make his way back to Terra. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Cree, you..." He hung his head. “I know how you feel,” he said softly. “There is no reason for you to say it." "But I want to,” she insisted. “I..." "Please, don't,” he asked. “I belong to Bridget and I always will. There will never be room for any other in the chambers of my heart. If I can not be with her, I will be alone." She saw a single tear easing down his lean cheek and it hurt her so deeply she had to dig her fingernails into her palms. “Was the dream that bad?” she asked. For a long moment he did not reply but when at last he began to speak, the hurt in his voice broke her heart. "We were walking hand in hand along the seashore. Bridie loved to swim but I would not allow her in the water because I could not join her. If something happened and she started to drown, I couldn't save her." "You can't swim?” Kahmal asked. "The parasite won't allow us to learn. It fears the Reaper might drown and it would be destroyed in the bargain. That is why we can't swim." "Did you and Bridget go often to the seashore?” She loved listening to his Ry-Chalean brogue. "There is a place called Savannah and we went there a few times. She liked to sit on the sand and watch the waves coming in.” He cocked a shoulder. “I must admit I found it a tranquil experience." "So was that where you were in your dream?" "I don't think so. The surroundings were strange. I'm not sure where we were or if that place even exists. Besides, the whole scenario was off." "In what way?" Cree held the picture of the dream beach in his mind's eye. The image disturbed him more than he was willing to admit and he shivered. "Are you cold?” Kahmal asked.

"There were ice floes in the water,” he said so softly she had to strain to hear. “I could see them all the way to the horizon yet the day was bright and sunny, a warm wind blowing over us and I knew what was coming." From out of his past three words came hurtling toward him and slammed into his consciousness with lightning speed: “Stage Three complete!" "Cree?” Kahmal asked, watching the horror invading his golden eyes. When he didn't respond, she reached out to shake him. "It was the sessions,” he whispered. “I was reliving the sessions in the Be-Mod 9 unit." Kahmal had read the dossier on the Prime Reaper Kamerone Cree and knew he had spent weeks in a Behavioral Modification Unit being tortured by members of the Resistance under the guise of assault therapy to re-enforce his training. It was there he had met Bridget. Cree plowed a hand through his thick brown hair and Kahmal saw his hand was shaking. "I felt her hand jerked from mine and then I was out in the middle of the ocean, staked down to one of the ice floes as it bobbed on the waves,” he told her. “There were thick spikes through my palms anchoring me to the ice. I heard Bridget calling to me, begging me to come back but I couldn't move. I was staked to the ice." "You were reliving the therapy sessions,” Kahmal said. "I heard the wave coming toward me and I lifted my head to see it. It was huge, blotting out the sky. It bore down on me and when it broke, the ice floe flipped over and I was beneath the water, my hands pulling free of the spikes." He had been drowning, water flowing down his nose, his air cut off by the invading thickness. He was sinking beneath a wavering, frigid surface, ice floes hovering just beyond his reach. The water was filling his lungs, inflating them to bursting, filling his body cavities with the freezing liquid. The harder he fought to reach the surface and the cleansing air that would free his blocked lungs, the deeper he plunged beneath the white surface until all light was blocked out. "Then she was there in the water beside me, pulling me up, dragging me to shore. I was dead—I knew I was dead—but she wouldn't let me go. We were on the sand. I was on my back, staring into her eyes as she put her lips on mine, breathed life back into my lungs. She saved my life." Kahmal knew he was unaware that she was stroking his shoulder as he repeated his dream to her. She could feel the tremors rippling through his body and wanted desperately to hold him. "Just as I gasped my first breath, she and I went spinning through the air and I hit something so hard it knocked the breath out of me. When I came to I was shackled to a stainless steel pole on the plaza in front of the Titaness on Rysalia Prime,” he said. "Where your bloodkin are to be executed,” she said, knowing he could not have seen the poles that had been erected long after he had fled with Bridget to Terra. "There were thousands of women standing there to see me die. Hael Sejm and Captain Chakai were holding Bridie between them. She was struggling to get free, trying so hard to come to me, but it was

already too late. There was a flash of fire at my feet and I was burning." The memory of his scream filled his head. The pain had been so horrific, so invasive, so utterly intense, he had longed for the surcease of life. But just as soon as the flames had enveloped him, blistering his flesh, then burning deep through the epidermis, past the coris, into the muscles and nerve bundles, dissolving capillaries, splitting open veins and arteries and flashing into the very marrow of his bones; just as the pain became so terrifying that he had began to beg for death, she was there holding out her hand to him. "Come, Kam,” she whispered. “Come to me and the pain will stop.” He held out his hand, striving to touch hers, hopeful, ecstatic, then she began to fade from his sight. Cree hung his head. “But she couldn't save me this time,” he said. “Her beautiful green eyes couldn't save me and I died in the flames." Kahmal suspected there was more. “Go on." He looked up at her and tears were running down his face. “They threw Dorrie into the fire with me. She was pleading with me to help her, to stop the pain, but I couldn't. I woke up hearing her screams." "It was just a dream,” she told him. “We are not going to allow anything to happen to you or her." "Just promise me,” he said, swiping angrily at the tears, “that you will make sure Dorrie is kept safe. Promise me that." "I swear it on my honor as an Amazeen warrioress,” she pledged. He seemed to relax, letting out a long breath. “That is all I can ask, ‘Kadia." Kahmal tucked the envelope he had given her into the pocket of her jumpsuit. “Is there anything else you want me to do?" "If you make it back to Terra,” he said, “you will never be able to return to this side of the megaverse. Your people might well send bounty hunters after you." "I've no illusions about what may or may not happen to us, Cree,” she stated. “My thoughts are, though, we'll be written off. No one will come after us. You don't have to worry about me or my crew." "We need to destroy the wormhole,” Cree said. “If my bloodkin and I do escape and we are able to get to Terra, I don't want to have to be looking over my shoulder for the remainder of my life and have my bloodkin doing the same." Kahmal nodded. “I can understand that. Perhaps closing the anomaly would be the wisest thing to do." "As long as it's open, there will always be a chance our enemies will arrive on our doorstep to wreak havoc with our lives. I'd just as soon not have to spend my time looking for tall women in gray sweat suits." Kahmal grinned. “I rather liked my gray sweats,” she said. He smiled, too, for a moment then the smile slipped from his face. “Even if I don't make it back, I want

to make sure it is impossible for anyone from our side of the megaverse to find their way to Terra again. Our people have caused enough pain and sorrow on that world to last a thousand lifetimes." "There's only one problem." "What?” he asked. "I don't think the Terrans have discovered the wormhole, yet, but I don't know that for sure,” Kahmal said. “We did encounter that Terran ship near the Vex when we were on our way to Terra to extract you. We came out of the wormhole practically right on top of them. What if they found their way into the anomaly? They'd have no way to get back to Terra if we destroyed it." The Reaper's eyes narrowed. “What ship was that?" "It was an all-female crew,” she said. “A Terran medivac transport. They were looking for, ah, friends." "Friends?” he asked. "Friends,” Kahmal said, her eyebrow lifted. Her face reddened. Cree's forehead wrinkled. “Oh, friends!” He half-smiled. "Needless to say we weren't interesting in making their acquaintance,” Kahmal told him. "I'm sure the Terrans were very sweet women,” he said. “Just a bit lonely." "Aye, well they can stay lonely,” Kahmal quipped. "Do you remember the name of the ship?" Kahmal thought about it for a moment. “TheOrion , I believe, but I can't be sure." "Major?” Chanz interrupted, the vid-com clicking on without benefit of a warning chime. "Aye?" "You'd better get up here fast. We've got trouble!"

Chapter Two Four dreadnaught class battle cruisers lay directly in the path of theAlluvia . Appearing out of nowhere, having eluded detection while in stealth mode the mammoth cruisers were braced with laser cannons primed to blow the lightweight LRC out of the sky. "Who the hell are they?” Kahmal asked. She didn't recognize either the build or the markings on the matte black ships. "They are not answering our hail,” Deon reported. "Cree?” Kahmal asked. “Do you have any idea who these bastards are?"

The Prime Reaper was staring at the vid-com screen, his forehead creased. “I don't recognize them." "They are blocking my probe,” Sern said, referring to her own psychic powers. “How about yours?" Cree shook his head. “I'm getting nothing." "Well, whoever they are, they've got their cannons locked on us and if my instruments are reading correctly, they have enough firepower aimed our way to blow us to space dust,” Aegean said. "Try opening a channel, Deon,” Kahmal ordered. "Unknown vessels,” Deon said. “This is the Amazeen LRC theAlluvia captained by Major Akkadia Kahmal. We are on our way to Rysalia Prime with..." "A Reaper in your greedy, murderous little hands and youwill hand him over to us! Now, wench!” a booming voice shouted over the vid-com and the center screen lit up to show a grimacing black face filled with fury. "Necromanian,” Tyrian said. “I've never seen one. Very impressive." "I am Kamau Taborn, Prince of the Royal House of Necroman and...." "Nephew of Lares,” Cree said. Fierce black eyes jerked from side to side, seeking the image of the one who had spoken. “Who dares to speak the name of the martyred one?” Taborn bellowed. "On screen,” Cree ordered and the vid-com camera focused on the Reaper. “I, Kamerone Cree, speak the name of my friend, Lares, and since when did he become a martyr?" The hulking black man at the other end of the transmission smiled broadly, showing a mouthful of shining white teeth. “You are alive!” he shouted. “We had heard you met your fate at the hands of those bitches on Rysalia Prime!" "Thanks to your uncle that didn't happen." Another face pushed Taborn's from the screen. “I am Zainabu,” a large-breasted woman spoke. “I am the J'Bai of Lares!" "Uh, oh,” Cree said and his face turned pale. "You say my betrothed is still alive?” Zainabu questioned. “Where is he?" Sern, who was born with the gift of mind reading, scanned Cree's thoughts and what she saw there made her whistle."I wouldn't tell her if I were you," she sent to him. Cree glanced toward Sern, frowning. “Lares,” he told the Necromanian woman, “is stranded on Terra." Zainabu lifted her chin. “He can not return to Necroman?"

"The vessel which took us to Terra ran out of fuel,” Cree explained to her. “We barely had enough to reach our destination." Taborn shoved Zainabu out of his way. “How come you to be on a ship crewed by Amazeen?” he asked. “What have they done to you, friend of Lares?" "We captured him,” Kahmal said, bringing the Necroman prince's scowl back to her. “But...." "You will hand him over to us!” Taborn declared. “Now, wench!" "For what purpose?” Kahmal snapped, waving Cree to silence when he would have spoken. "For what purpose?” Taborn repeated, his dark eyes blazing. “To prevent him from dying in a Multitude bonfire!" "That isn't going to happen,” Kahmal denied. "Nay, it will not!” Taborn snarled. “We will await his transport to our ship." "Prince Kamau,” Cree spoke up, “these women are no longer my captors. They have agreed to help me rescue my bloodkin from execution on the Feast of Alluvial. I...." "Amazeen are not to be trusted!” Zainabu said, jockeying once more for main position on the vid-com screen. “They are treacherous bitches who lie out of both sides of their ugly mouths." Kahmal stiffened. “How dare you insult my Sisters!” she yelled. “We are just as honorable as Necromanian warriors and we do not lie!" Zainabu snorted. “Every word out of your mouths is a lie. It was an Amazeen who testified against my J'Bai and was responsible for sending him to Helios 12!" "I thought he was sent there for killing a Domination priest,” Cree said. "This is so, but he did not murder the priest. An Amazeen accused him, but it was a lie." Cree wanted to tell Zainabu that her betrothed had confessed to him that he had killed the man he had labeled a pesky priest, but decided to keep his mouth shut. He held up his hand when Kahmal would have continued the argument. "These women speak only the truth,” he assured the Necromanians. “I would know if one were to lie to me." Taborn shoved Zainabu out of the way. “If you say it is so, then it is so, Kamerone Cree.” He spread his hands. “Will you not at least visit my vessel and allow me to express my gratitude for the saving of my uncle's life?" "It was he who saved my life, Prince Kamau,” Cree corrected. “Had it not been for the reed necklace his J'Bai had given him when they were children, I would have died." Zainabu pushed Taborn so hard those on the bridge of theAlluvia heard the crash he made as he careened into something on his ship. “Explain!” she demanded. “How did what I made for my beloved

aid in saving your life?" Cree winced for he had a momentary impression of Kamau Taborn's pain. “I was being hanged when I was transported to safety and could not draw air into my lungs. A breathing tube was needed. Lares did not think twice. He snatched the necklace from him and a reed was used to save my life." The glint of tears shone in the black woman's dark eyes. “Lares treasured the zawadi I made for him,” she said and fingered a similar necklace she was wearing. “For him to destroy it there had to be a great reason.” A smile wavered on her lovely face. “He must have great love for you, Reaper." "I have great affection for him, as well, milady,” Cree admitted. "You must come to our ship! You must be feted in traditional Necromanian fashion!” Taborn stated, easing Zainabu aside this time. “We must praise the man my uncle calls friend." "They aren't going to take no for an answer,” Sern said just loud enough for everyone on theAlluvia's bridge to hear. "I will not step foot on the ship of any woman who dares to call me a liar,” Kahmal grumbled. Or any man who dares to call me wench." "You were not invited, white woman!” Zainabu barked. She tossed her thick fall of glossy black waist length hair behind her. "I appreciate your offer, Prince Kamau, and I am honored but we have but a short time to reach Rysalia Prime. The fate of my bloodkin has great concern for me,” Cree reminded the Necromanian warrior. "You will need help in rescuing your kin,” Taborn said. “We can be of assistance to you." "How?” Kahmal snapped. “Will you station your dreadnaughts around the perimeter of Rysalia Prime and threaten to blow away the Daughters to the Four Winds? The Multitude will know there are men nearby and destroy your vessel in the blink of an eye." "Nay, but my vessel will be at your back when the Winds lift the wings of your ship,” Taborn pledged. “We will run interference for you as you escape." "The Rysalians will know you are in the vicinity,” Kahmal stated. “You...." "We will be invisible to their sensors, wench,” Taborn boasted. “We can not be seen until we are ready to be seen!" "You have cloaking technology?” Kahmal asked, eyes wide. Taborn grinned. “A marvelous gift from our friends, theScaans ,” he said. "Your assistance is greatly appreciated,” Cree said for Kahmal. “I don't think the Daughters are going to let me go with a fond fare-the-well and a see-ya." Taborn threw back his head and laughed, a booming sound that reverberated through the vid-com channels. “I would think not, Kamerone Cree! You are high on their foig list!"

"Will you return to Terra when you rescue your kin?” Zainabu asked. "Aye,” Cree said then could have kicked himself for he knew as surely as he was standing there what was about to happen. "Then you will take me with you to be reunited with my J'Bai!” Zainabu said, her face lighting up for the first time. Dorrie groaned for the man in question was already married—to Dr. Beryla Dean. She put her hand over her mouth and looked at Cree. "I will send Zainabu over to you now!” Taborn said and every woman on theAlluvia heard the relief in his voice as he spoke. "Wait!” Cree said but it was already too late. In a matter of seconds, the statuesque black woman was standing on the bridge of the Amazeen ship. Kahmal's back was ramrod straight as she glared at the tall black woman who was only marginally less muscular and tall as Kahmal. With very large breasts and an oversized ass, the Necromanian was an imposing sight. Before anyone could move, the dark woman marched over to Cree and flung her arms around him, picking him up from the floor in a bear hug as though he was a child. "Cree, boon friend of my J'Bai!” she greeted him. “It is an honor to meet you!" Dorrie tried not to laugh at the grunt that escaped the Prime Reaper's lips as he was being mauled by the large woman. Sern could hear the gears grinding away in Cree's brain and was hard pressed not to laugh, as well. She had intercepted the wayward thought that he now had still another female for whom to be responsible and knew the Reaper was inwardly groaning. "It is an honor to meet you, too,” Cree managed to say before Zainabu released him. "I will protect you with my life, Reaper!” Zainabu swore. Kahmal had to look away, biting her lower lip to keep from bursting into laughter. She remembered all too well Cree's answer to Chanz’ pledge to protect his life with her own. "You find my vow humorous, Amazeen?” Zainabu demanded, starting toward Kahmal. "No!” Cree shouted. He put himself between the two women. “The Major is laughing at me." Zainabu stiffened. “She had best not laugh at you, Reaper!" "It was something I said awhile ago that she finds laughable,” Cree was quick to tell her. “It has nothing to do with you, milady." The black woman narrowed her eyes at Kahmal. “What was it he said that brought about such a reaction, Amazeen?" "A typical Cree-ism you will get to know well, Necromani. He had saved not only my life but the lives of

two of my crew,” Kahmal replied. Zainabu nodded. “Attribution. I am familiar with such.” She glanced at Cree. “That he acted in such a way merely re-enforces my vow to keep him safe. Continue." Cree groaned and shook his head. "One of my women pledged her life to him, as well, and he acted like the spoiled little boy he can be by telling her he did not need that kind of pressure. He doesn't like to think he needs the protection of mere women such as us." "You are one more woman for him to feel responsible for,” Sern said. "I see,” Zainabu stated. She swept her gaze over the Reaper and settled on his bare feet. “Why does he not have proper boots?" "We like to keep our men barefoot and pregnant,” Dorrie quipped, ignoring Cree's warning growl. Zainabu's lips puckered. “I can see the wisdom in that,” she agreed, “but it isn't possible, is it?" "That's enough,” Cree said, aware that Prince Kamau was listening intently to the women's conversation. He turned to the Necromanian. “Your help is welcome and greatly appreciated, Prince Kamau. How will we be able to contact you when the time comes?" Taborn smiled. “We have stealth capabilities, such as no other world has developed, and secure channels. We will not be far away, Kamerone Cree. Zainabu will call us when we are needed.” He arched a thick black brow. “What size boot do you need, Reaper?" Zainabu sniffed, sniffed again, and then turned to look down at Ceatie. Her eyes lit up. “A were beast!” she said and rushed over to where the weretiger was sprawled out at Sern's feet. She went to her knees and buried her face in the old animal's fur. “I have not seen your like in years, Old One!" Ceatie began purring so loudly it was hard to hear Cree answering Taborn concerning his boot size. He licked the ebony face pressing close to his and made a mewling sound that bespoke of his contentment. "May I be a member of your pack, Old One?” Zainabu asked the weretiger. Sern exchanged a glance with the black woman and in the space of a few seconds it was obvious to every woman there the two would be good friends. The black boots materialized on the transport pad a few moments later and Cree swiped them up. He stalked off with them, muttering under his breath. He barely remembered to thank Taborn for the gift. "Zainabu!” Taborn called out and when the black woman stood up and faced him, hands on her ample hips, he shook a finger at her. “Do not cause the Reaper undue stress and do not try to run his life as you tried to run mine!" "Be gone with you, Kamau,” the Necromanian woman said. “We will call when we need you.” She dismissed him by turning her back and dropping down beside Ceatie once more. "May the Wind be always at your back, Major Kahmal,” Taborn said. “You will need it with Zainabu

close at hand." With that said, the vid-com screen went black and in the twinkle of an eye, the four Necromanian dreadnaughts were gone. "Your prince is a member of the Windwarrior Society?” Kahmal asked. "A grand master, I believe, but I could not care less about such things,” Zainabu said with a sniff. "Where did they go?” Deon asked with awe. She was scanning the heavens but the dreadnoughts were nowhere on her scope. "They are out there, but I'll be damned if I can bring them up on the screen. There isn't even a blip,” Aegean said. "Our stealth capabilities are impenetrable,” Zainabu bragged as she got to her feet. She looked around. “Where is the Reaper?" "He went off to sulk,” Dorrie said, extending her hand. “I am Dorrie Burkhart, a Terran. I've known him longer than anyone else onboard so if you have questions, you can come to me." "Why does he go to sulk?” Zainabu wanted to know, taking the proffered hand in the warrior way—forearm to forearm. "He's a loner,” Sern spoke up. “He prefers to be by himself." "And he wants to try on his new boots,” Chanz said with a snort. Back in the lounge, Cree blocked out the feminine laughter that greeted Chanz's remark. He felt put upon and under even more pressure now that he had another female to try to keep from harm's way.

Chapter Three Kahmal had been searching for over an hour before she finally tried the image deck where she found Cree. When she opened the door to the suite he had programmed, she was shocked to find it resembled what she knew to be a facsimile of Helios 12. The suite was sweltering, with no wind and no moisture at all in the hot stagnant air. Cree was stripped down to a pair of cut-off britches, his bare chest glistening with sweat, the crisp hairs there sparkling, as he went through the intricate motions of some kind of martial arts regimen. He had dispensed with his new boots and she could not help but wonder why he felt the need to torture his feet in such a manner for the sand of the suite undulated with heat. She didn't think he'd seen her yet for he appeared to be concentrating on each complex position that made his muscles bunch and ripple. Despite the suffocating heat bearing down on her, she stood there and watched him, mesmerized by the powerful play of his brawny body. "Would you like to spar with me?” he asked. "I'd like to throw you down and have at your tight ass,” Kahmal retorted, watching that area of his body flexing beneath the tight-fitting britches.

Cree actually laughed, but he made no comment to her sexiest remark. He continued to move fluidly with the complicated maneuvers. His biceps bulged as he held one position for a few moments before allowing his body to relax. He released a long breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then came striding toward Kahmal, bending down to swoop up a towel to blot his perspiring face. The Amazeen Major could not take her eyes from his potent body. The man looked as though he had been molded by the Goddess of Love, Herself. There wasn't a spare ounce of fat on him and every move he made flowed like a well-oiled machine. Her gaze locked on the stylized crimson tattoo of a scythe on his left pectoral and held. She knew the tattoo had been applied to his flesh with a laser. "Aye, it did,” he said for she was wondering if it had hurt to have it burned into his flesh. "I'm surprised you admit it,” she said, tearing her gaze from the wicked brand. She wanted to reach out and trace the tattoo with the tips of her fingers. “How old were you when it was applied?" He shrugged. “Ten, I believe. I don't really remember. It was part of the Initiation into the Warrior Caste so at the time it was an honor to undergo the pain." "Did you weep?” she asked. His gaze locked with hers. “What do you think?" "I cried when my breast was removed,” Kahmal admitted. “It hurt like hell." "The tattoo was not nearly as bad as the implants they placed in my brain,” Cree told her. "When did they surgically insert the micro-receivers?” she asked. "At about the same time. That played hell with my brain and caused brutal headaches that were incapacitating. The M-Rs did the same thing to my bloodcousins so our handlers didn't start inserting them in the next class of Reapers until the cadet had gone through puberty.” He ran a hand over his damp face. “That cut down on the severity of the headaches, but I'm told migraines still plagued the cadets.” He swiped the towel under his chin. “I still have the gods-be-damned things and always will." Kahmal shook her head. “I thought having my right teat cut off was bad, but it seems you had a much more severe launch into warrior status." He stared brazenly at her chest. “You'd never know you had only one breast,” he said. The Amazeen Major reached up to touch the area. “Prosthetic,” she explained. “Which is removed whenever we engage in combat. Not every Amazeen opts to have the removal of her teat. Only those who know they will be fighting." "Ah,” he said. “And you are a warrior before you are a woman.” He held his hand out for her to precede him from the image suite. She met his gaze. “For you, I would be entirely woman, Reaper." His only answer to her statement was a quickly passing smile. Both of them knew she'd never act on her bold declaration and he would never allow it if she did.

Once outside where the cool air could wash over their bodies, Kahmal drew in a long breath. “Was there a reason you were punishing yourself in that hotbox?" Cree smiled. “It is a cleansing ritual,” he said. “I needed to clear my head." "From all the female influences in which you are drowning, Reaper?” she teased. "Too much estrogen blunts a warrior's savagery,” he replied with a snort. "Dorrie tells me there is going to be a problem with the Necromani when we arrive back on Terra,” she said, folding her arms. “How are you going to deal with that?" The Reaper's brow furrowed. “The hell if I know,” he said. “I'll have to leave that problem up to Taborn." "Dorrie says Dr. Dean won't be amendable to losing her mate." "No, she won't,” Cree agreed. “I wouldn't want to be in Taborn's boots.” There was something in the Major's gaze that sent a prickle of unease down the Reaper's spine. “You have other concerns, ‘Kadia?" Kahmal looked down at the floor. She didn't quite know how to broach the subject with him but she and the other women—including the new arrival—had discussed the situation and decided it needed to be brought out into the open. She looked at him. "As you mentioned to me before, many years of Terran time will have passed before we return,” she began. “How...?" "You believe my lady will have moved on,” he said quietly. “That she and Tylan Kahn will have become so close he will have taken her from me." "You have to consider it,” she said and watching as a bead of sweat rolled down his taut abdomen. "I consider it every moment of my existence. If such is the case, I will leave them to their new life,” he said but there was great sadness in his tone. “I only want what is best for Bridget and our son." She tilted her head to one side. “You won't fight for her?" "Bridget loves me,” he said. “I know that. She knows I love her. Tylan knows it just as I know he loves her. As time passes, they will believe me dead, executed at the hands of the Multitude. I cannot expect that she will live her life as a widow. I want her to be happy, to be at peace. He will see to her welfare." "You won't let her know you have returned?" "I will go to her. The choice will be hers to make,” he said. "But it will destroy you if she chooses Tylan Kahn,” Kahmal said gently. "Aye, it will, but if she does, then so be it. If she chooses to stay with him, I will leave and never bother her again." The Amazeen turned her face away. “If that happens, will you seek another mate?"

"There can be no other mate for me, ‘Kadia,” he answered. Kahmal's eyes narrowed. “Would you at least consider allowing a woman to care for you?” She looked back at him. “To be there to hold your loneliness at bay?" "Are you volunteering for such an unrewarding assignment, Major?” he countered. She lifted her chin. “I am." He searched her thoughts and was stunned to find every woman on the ship—including the new arrival Zainabu—had offered to stay with him. He shook his head. “Such martyrdom is not necessary,” he grumbled. “I'm a big boy and perfectly capable of taking care of myself." "Dorrie says otherwise,” Kahmal stated. “She mentioned something about you not knowing how to properly drive a car." "Properlypark a car,” he amended and shrugged. “I can drive one fairly well, but I will admit I have problems parking them. I could learn." "She also says you have problems dealing with the human population on Terra." Cree frowned. “Dorrie's going to have her shapely ass turned over my knee if she doesn't stop talking out of school,” he snapped. "She'd like that,” Kahmal said with a chuckle. He gave her a stern look. “Believe me when I tell you she would not.” He turned on his heel and started to stomp away. Kahmal hurried after him, matching his long, angry stride step for step. “Kamerone, we just..." "This conversation is at an end, Kahmal,” he said through clenched teeth. “We'll not discuss the matter again." She walked with him all the way to the sonic showers. He arched a brow at her when she would have stood where she was as his hands went to the waistband of his britches. She grinned and arched a brow, as well. A wicked gleam entered the Reaper's eye and he pushed the britches from his hips, giving her an unobstructed look at what Dorrie had speculated would be quite a package. Kahmal swept her eyes over his loins, gave them a long look, and then met his gaze. “Not bad, Reaper,” she said. “I could always use you on my breeding farm.” With that said, she left, casting him a saucy look over her shoulder. "Women,” he growled as he snatched open the door to one of the sonic showers and stepped inside. Kahmal was grinning so widely when she walked onto the bridge all the women stared at her. “Who,” the Major inquired, “gave our Reaper the cut-off britches?"

Deon frowned. “I did. Why?" "Nice,” Kahmal said. “Damned nice.” She sat down in the command chair. “And by the way Dorrie, he fills them out better than any man I've ever seen." Dorrie nodded. “Told you, didn't I?" "Indeed you did and I got a good look at what those britches were hiding." "And?” Dorrie prompted, every woman awaiting the answer. Kahmal's lips quirked. “More than nice and, no, he isn't circumcised." Sern intercepted the furious growl from the shower and knew the Reaper was listening to their conversation."Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves," she sent to him and had to shake her head at the enraged vulgarities that came flooding through her mind. **** After his shower, Cree went back to the quarters Kahmal had allotted him so he would have privacy from all the estrogen saturating the air. He had strolled down the corridor barefoot with the towel wrapped around his lean flanks just hoping one of the women would happen by. A perverse part of him had every intention of letting the towel fall just to see the female's reaction but none of them had been about. He was a tad disappointed and more than a little annoyed at himself that he was. Sighing, he punched in the access code to his quarters and went inside. The room was dark and cool—just the way he preferred it. "Lights up fifteen percent,” he told the onboard computer and the room slowly illuminated. Absently reaching up to rub at the headache he felt coming on, he removed the towel and padded into the sleeping area, sliding himself belly down on the soft mattress. He lay that way for a moment until he realized the headache was only going to get worse so he turned over, reached up to drag a pillow under his head, and flung an arm over his eyes, bringing up one knee to relieve the workout pull on his aching stomach muscles. "Lights off." The chamber was plunged into unrelieved darkness though with his keen Reaper vision, had his eyes been open, he could have seen as clearly as though the lights had still been on. He lay trying to regulate his breathing and the god-awful agony that was now slicing through his temples. The increase in the severity, duration, and spacing of his migraines were beginning to worry him. It had started with the IH, the strong neuroinhibitor Hael Sejm had administered to him after his capture on Terra. A second dose along with having been deprived of oxygen for a good long while had set into motion a series of problems for him that had now resulted in his headaches being worse and coming more often than ever before. It was all he could do not to allow the women of theAlluvia to know just how horrific the headaches were. He groaned and raised his other knee. “Temperature twenty degrees lower,” he said for the cold seemed to help the debilitating pain lashing at his head.

With his pain having increased to the point he was beginning to see the strange wriggling flashes of light at the periphery of his vision and the nausea slowly rising in his throat, he tried to lay perfectly still, attempting to force all thought from his mind for even that caused pain. For a moment he drifted off and, in that moment, memory leapt up to claim him. **** "Captain Cree?” Bridget asked, seeing the fixed stare leap back to life. “Are you with us, Captain Cree?" He had never seen such beautiful eyes in his life as the ones that were staring down at him with such compassion. They were the most delicate shade of green: pale and soothing. They looked at him with so much tenderness, such overwhelming sympathy he knew he could trust their owner. "It's over,” she told him gently. “We're through." "S .. stay,” he whispered, his throat an agony. "What?” she asked. Even as the orderlies lifted him, moving him to a gurney, Cree found he could not look away from the woman's beautiful green eyes. He tried to lift his hand, to touch the hand of the woman whose eyes held him so enthralled, but his muscles wouldn't cooperate. "W .. with me,” he asked. "Captain Cree?" There they are again, he thought, his lips pulling back in a slow, confused smile. There are those beautiful, understanding eyes. He tried to lift his hand to touch their owner's cheek, but could not. "How do you feel?” Bridget asked him. "What's your name?” he croaked. "Dr. Dunne,” she replied. When he frowned, she amended her answer. “Bridget. Bridget Dunne." "Bridget,” he repeated. "Are you cold?" "Aye,” he sighed. Her voice was so soft, so incredibly gentle. It filled him with a need to which he could not put a name. "We're getting you a blanket.” She reached out to smooth away a lock of dark hair from his forehead. Cree closed his eyes, the effects of the synthetic neurotransmitter making the smell of her flesh a vivid sensation in his nostrils. Like the caress of her voice, her touch was infinitely desirable and completely calming.

Then there had been excruciating pain. Horror. Betrayal. Fear. Helplessness. Hopelessness. Defenselessness. Uselessness. "Come, Kam,” she whispered. “Come to me and the pain will stop." He held out his hand, striving to touch hers, hopeful, ecstatic, then she began to fade from his sight. "No!” he cried out, but she was gone, leaving him lost, desperate, so totally without hope. "Where is she?” his mind demanded. He whimpered. “Where is she?” He screamed. “Where is she?" "Captain?" The light was piercing white filing his head with the worst pain he could ever remember experiencing. "Why wasn't she here?" "Captain?" He tried to focus. Someone shook him gently, spoke his given name. Fog, thick and numbing was clouding his vision and he couldn't move, couldn't find his way out of the mist. Why wouldn't she come to him? "Captain Cree!" His vision cleared and he found himself looking up into the beautiful green eyes of the woman for whom he had been searching in his nightmare world. She was leaning over him, her face concerned, those beautiful green eyes filled with tears. "Go away.” The command was bitter. “You weren't there when I needed you and I don't want you here now!" Then had come more pain. More humbling. More of everything that had nearly destroyed him. "Don't go!” he called out. “Don't leave me again, Bridget!" "I can't stay, but I'll be back with them when they come for you at thirteen hundred hours." And they had been on time. Sweet merciful Alel, why wouldn't she come for him? When at last the pain had stopped, she had been there. "Kam ..” she began only to have him fix her with a warning glance. "I am a Reaper, Bridget,” he snapped. “I will be all right. No matter what they do to me, I will be all right!"

"Of course you will,” she agreed. Coming to him, she cupped his cheek. “Remember I love you, Kamerone Cree.” She locked her eyes with his. “I love you with all my heart. No matter what you are, no matter what you have to do in order to survive, I love you." **** The Reaper came awake with a gasp. He was shivering from the temperature being too cool but the headache was better. He put a trembling hand to his forehead. His breath was ragged as though he'd been running all out but his body didn't feel the aches it did when he'd laid down. Turning his head, he looked at the clock and realized he'd been asleep for several hours. Sitting up, he thrust his hand through his hair and stared across the room. If he tried hard, he could see Bridie's beautiful green eyes looking back at him. The last thing she had said to him before Sejm had snatched him from Terra echoed through the room: “I love you." "I love you, as well, my lady,” he repeated aloud his last words to her. He didn't feel the tears easing down his cheeks. **** Two days later found him sitting in the lounge, brooding. No one went near him for whenever someone tried, he would glare at them, warning them off. Not even Zainabu dared to intrude on his solitude but she was studying him across the room. "The Reaper is in a foul mood today,” the Necromanian woman declared. “He snapped at me." "Why is he out of sorts now?” Aegean asked. "The duplicator stopped working,” Chanz reporting. “Apparently there was more damage done to the system when that asteroid slammed into us than I'd realized." "That means we're going to have to land somewhere and take on supplies,” Tyrian remarked. "So he's annoyed there will be another delay in getting to Rysalia Prime,” Aegean said. "No, he's annoyed that he hasn't had any Sustenance today!” Cree snarled at them then swung his attention to them. “Or any Triso." The women turned pale. Sustenance they could provide for him—and gladly—but the powerful neuroleptic drug Trisomidine controlled the nerve pathways of the brain that utilized the tissue chemical dopamine for the transmission of nerve impulses. It was used to keep a Reaper from Transitioning out of cycle. Since it was a highly addictive drug both psychologically and physically, Cree would begin to experience severe withdrawal symptoms exhibiting aggression, restlessness, and potentially hazardous mood swings. Apparently those symptoms were already beginning. Chanz got up quickly and came over to him, rolling up the sleeve of her jumpsuit as she walked. “Here, warrior. I will feed you." Cree glared up at her. “Get the hell away from me, wench,” he snarled. "You need Sustenance and I am..."

"I can do without the Sustenance for awhile. I need my gods-be-damned Triso!” he shouted at her, his eyes glinting crimson. “I didn't get it yesterday and I haven't had it today. Do you know how dangerous I am to you? Move away!" Chanz backed away from him. She nearly tripped over her own feet when he shot up from the table and stormed away, throwing chairs out his path as he went. "Not good,” Chanz said. "I need to tell the Major,” Aegean said and was out of the lounge like a shot. "Where is he going?” Zainabu asked. "To the containment cell,” Chanz said. “He thinks he poses a threat to us and he does." "Did you see his eyes?” the Necromanian woman asked. “His eyes were red." "His cycles have been all screwed up since the ghoret bite and that gods-be-damned neuroinhibitor Sejm gave him,” Chanz reminded them. “Now without the Triso to keep them under control, he's on the verge of shifting again." "He is going into Transition?” Zainabu asked, her hand at her throat. "You had to know he would sooner or later, Zain,” Chanz answered. She glanced at the Major who had gone running past the door of the lounge, Dorrie close behind her. By the time Kahmal and Dorrie reached the containment cell, Cree was on all fours in the middle of the room. His sides were heaving and sweat was pouring down his face. He swung his head toward them and both women skidded to a stop for the transformation had begun. "Lock me in!” he ordered, his voice more growl than human speech. Kahmal sprang for the door, slamming it shut and engaging the lock just as Cree hit the door so hard it shuddered. She found herself staring through the thick plexiform glass into the enraged bestial face of a Reaper in full Transition. “Sweet Merciful Tethys,” Kahmal whispered. “What are we going to do?" "He needs his meds,” Dorrie said, trembling. Dragging in breath as though she'd run a ten-mile marathon all out, Kahmal sprang back from the door as a huge paw studded with razor-sharp talons raked at the glass and a vicious howl echoed through the corridor. "Where are we going to get his meds?” Dorrie asked. Kahmal shook her head to clear it of the image that she knew would remain with her forever. “Oceania,” she managed to say. "Triso was outlawed on Oceania,” Dorrie told her. “Where else?" "Diabolusia."

"Too far away." The Amazeen's eyes shifted from side to side as she thought then she lifted her head. “Ionary,” she said. “There are pharmaceutical warehouses there, aren't there?" "There were,” Dorrie said. “I wouldn't know if they still exist." "It's worth a try,” Kahmal said. She hurried away from the loud bangs and reverberations that were rocking the containment cell. Sern was awaiting their destination, her hands paused over the keyboard. “Where?” she asked as Kahmal took the bridge. "Ionary,” Kahmal said. “Guilder's Cay. There are..." "Pharmaceutical manufacturing units,” Sern said, nodding as her fingers flew over the keys. “How are we going to obtain the Triso?" "We sure as hell can't buy it openly,” Dorrie reminded them. "We'll have to break into one of the warehouses,” Kahmal said. "Just transport me inside,” Dorrie said. "There will be safeguards in place to prevent that,” Tyrian said. "She's right,” Sern said. “We'll have to get it on the black market." "Really?” Dorrie snapped. “And how do you think we will be able to accomplish that? Do you know anyone in the black market on Guilder's Cay?" "I do,” Zainabu spoke up. “My brother Demissie is an arms dealer. He will be able to find us what we need. I am sure of it." "They are going to question why an Amazeen LRC is asking for admittance to their air space,” Aegean said. "Tell them the truth,” Kahmal said. “We need to repair both our E.S.U.s and the duplicator. While Zainabu contacts her brother, we will purchase what we need to make our repairs." "And take on some supplies until we can do those repairs,” Chanz added. “They can't deny us entry when we have a legitimate reason for needing to land." "We need to pick up some clothes for our Reaper,” Tyrian suggested. “I expect what he had on is now shredded." "Undoubtedly,” Kahmal agreed. “And I don't have anything else that will fit him." "I can handle that,” Deon said. She held up a hand. “Ionary Fleet Command is hailing us." "Open a channel,” Kahmal instructed, “and give them our request.” She listened as Deon explained their

problem to the I.F.C., nodding in agreement to the com officer's words. As soon as she heard the okay given for them to land, she relaxed and sat down in her command chair. "Let's hope they don't insist on inspecting us,” Aegean said. “This is a prison colony, remember?" "They'll be watching us, that's for sure, but more so when we leave than as we arrive,” Sern said. “How do we get hold of your brother, Zainabu?" "I know where he resides. I will go to him. Having him come here would be suspicious." "Aye, well, someone might question what a Necromanian woman is doing on an Amazeen ship,” Kahmal suggested. "I go to Rysalia Prime for the Feast,” Zainabu stated. “What other reason do I need?" "Works for me,” Dorrie pronounced. "I know nothing of Triso. Who will go with me to my brother's so we will get what we need?” Zainabu said. "Me,” Dorrie said. “I'm a med tech. I know exactly what to ask for." "Demissie will demand payment for the drug." Kahmal nodded and instructed Tyrian to fetch the box of credits from her quarters. “Bring it all." "Attention LRC theAlluvia ,” the Ionarian Fleet Command hailed. “You are not to attempt a docking until we have scanned your ship." "They'll see we have a man onboard!” Tyrian gasped. "He's not a man right now,” Sern said, lightly passing her psychic ability through Cree's mind. “He is all beast although he's more than aware of what's going on." Every woman on the bridge watched the IFC light scan as it pulsed slowly through their ship, inspecting everything on board. ""LRC theAlluvia ,” Ionary Fleet Command hailed them. “You are cleared to land. Please keep your were beasts onboard your vessel. We have strict laws governing such creatures. They are not welcome on Ionary." Kahmal smiled. “I bet that went over big with our Reaper." Sern winced at the outraged roar that came from the containment cell and ricocheted through her sensitive mind. TheAlluvia landed an hour later at the busy docking hub on Guilder's Cay. Dozens of ships were taking off and landing at regular intervals and security troopers were everywhere, their dark blue uniforms and laser impulse rifles announcing their presence on the docking hub. "We had to land on a penal colony,” Chanz complained. “By the goddess I hope they don't decide to do

a spot inspection and demand admittance." "They aren't about to board our ship,” Kahmal said. “Not with two were beasts onboard.” She turned to her crew. “Who's going to do what while we're here?" "'Dilla and I will scout for what we need to repair the duplicator and the E.S.U.s,” Chanz said. "I'll go shopping for some clothes for my.... “Deon stopped. “Who shall I say the clothes are for?" "Let me get the clothes,” Kahmal said. “No one will look twice at me when I mention the garments are for my breeders." "I imagine not,” Dorrie said. "I will also order enough supplies for the next two days,” Kahmal said. “I will have the supplies delivered while I am shopping for clothing." Sern, Deon, and Aegean stayed behind as Kahmal, Dorrie, Zainabu, Chanz and Tyrian left the ship. Aegean locked the ship down, keeping a close watch on the vid-coms to make sure no one tried to gain admittance to theAlluvia . **** Demissie Waberi was not happy to see his sister on his doorstep. He had not seen her in ten years and would have been just as happy to go another ten before having to deal with her again. He was less happy to see her accompanied by a white woman—a Terran at that. He stared down his hawk like nose at Zainabu, refusing to allow her to enter his hut. "What are you about, woman?” he demanded in his loud, base voice. “Why are you bothering me?" "We have business with you, my brother,” Zainabu said, not in the least inhibited by her brother's gruff manner. “Paying business." Sweeping his cautious gaze along the street, Demissie reluctantly stepped aside so the women could enter. “This had best be worth my time, Zain!" Dorrie wrinkled her nose at the harsh smell emanating from the interior of Waberi's abode. It was an overpowering stench that made her stomach juices curdle. "You are making ayana,” the Necromanian woman said. “It smells heavenly. Where did you find pig intestines on Ionary?" "You did not come here to discuss my culinary abilities. What is it you want?” her brother snarled. Zainabu looked to Dorrie. "A month's supply of Triso,” Dorrie replied. “Top-grade, pharmaceutical strength, as pure as possible." Waberi's eyebrows shot up. “You jest!” he said with a snort. Dorrie started to speak but stopped when the black woman at her side reached out, grabbed her brother by the front of his multi-colored caftan, and pushed him savagely against the wall. “Remember my

J'Bai?” Zainabu hissed. "Lares?” Waberi questioned. “Of course, I remember him. What...?" "It is for arafiki of my J'Bai. A man who deserves my aid for the great love he bore my J'Bai and my J'Bai bore him!" "No friend of Lares Taborn would willingly addict himself to Triso!” Waberi scoffed. “What game are you playing, Zain?" "It is for the Prime Reaper Kamerone Cree!” Zainabu stressed. Dorrie groaned. “Why don't you just shout it to the world, Zainabu?” she growled. "Kamerone Cree?” Waberi asked in a small, hushed voice. “The Prime Reaper is here on Ionary? I had heard he fled to Terra." "He did but he was brought back by Amazeen bounty hunters who are now his friends." Waberi's face showed his disbelief. “Amazeens do not befriend males,” he stated. "They do when Attribution has been declared!” his sister exclaimed. "Attribution?” Waberi gasped. He stared at her—gauging her truthfulness—then narrowed his eyes. “Woman, if you are lying...." "He is on an Amazeen ship and in full Transition. The duplicator is down and he could not get the Triso needed to keep him human,” Zainabu said. “We need your help, brother. The man is in agony!" Waberi shifted his hooded gaze to Dorrie. When she did not look away, he narrowed his eyes. “Where are you taking him, Pale One?" "To Rysalia Prime,” Dorrie answered. “To rescue his bloodkin from the fires at the Feast of Alluvial." The black man brutally shoved his sister away from him and began pacing, his gaze riveted to the floor. “It is not a matter of obtaining the Triso. That I can easily do. I have a year's supply buried beneath this very floor. It is a matter of obtaining the kind a Reaper needs for his purposes. This is pure, and that I can only get from one of the pharmacy warehouses." "How long will it take you to do that?” Dorrie asked. “He needs the meds now and we don't have that long before we must be in Rysalia Prime." "We know about the planned executions, of course,” Waberi said, ignoring her question. “I also know there are others who are intent on stopping the Reaper cadets from being killed and are on their way there even now." "Others?” Dorrie repeated, fear running down her back. “What others?" "Serenians, members of a rebel force led by one called McGregor,” Waberi answered. “They bought weapons and electronics from me for their ship just yesterday."

"Do you know how they plan on rescuing the Reaper cadets?” Dorrie asked. "A man does not ask such things, Pale One,” Waberi snapped. “What one does not know, one can not reveal. What I do know is they are on their way to Rysalia with software that will hide them from the Multitude's watchdogs." "Scaan technology?” his sister asked. Waberi shook his head. “A different breed of software." "What kind of software?” Zainabu demanded. "The kind that will show all life forms on their ship as female,” Waberi replied. “A very fine piece of engineering is that small chip from Amhantar." "And handy,” Dorrie observed. "When can you obtain the Triso, brother?” Zainabu asked him. “We can not remain long on Ionary." "Give me an hour,” Waberi answered. “It will take that long to contact my employees in the pharmacy warehouse. I will send them to your ship with the meds.” He asked where their ship was docked and its name. "If you can find out anything about the Serenian ship, it would be of help to us,” Dorrie told Waberi. “Neither of us needs to be going into this with ignorance of the other." The dark man nodded. “I see the wisdom in that. I will do what I can,” Waberi replied. “Now, go. The authorities may be watching and I've no desire to be dragged in for questioning again this week!" "Do you trust him?” Dorrie asked as she and Zainabu headed back to theAlluvia . "As much as any man can be trusted,” Zainabu replied. “Did you see the look in his eye when I mentioned the Prime Reaper?" "Aye and I wish you hadn't done that,” Dorrie said. "Demissie poses no threat to Cree. He has long since hero-worshipped the Reapers and all for which they stood. He would no more compromise the Prime Reaper than turn himself over to the authorities he fears so deeply.” She smirked. “I never thought to see my brother afraid of anything! It amuses me greatly." "Well, I hope his employees aren't prone to being snitches,” Dorrie grumbled. "What are snitches?” Zainabu asked. "People who tell what they know to the authorities for money or to put themselves beyond liability with the law." "Ah,” Zainabu replied. “Such would not be the case of those who work for my brother. He would flay them alive. Trust me."

Dorrie spied Chanz and Tyrian across the market area from them but did not greet them. The two were haggling with a shopkeeper and were deep in negotiations. She watched a young man walking toward the Alluvia with a box of supplies. Even from a distance, she could see the man's nervousness at having to approach an Amazeen ship. "I hope there is no milk in the box he carries,” Zainabu said with a smirk. “It will be butter before he leaves it." Dorrie and the Necromani waited until the young man had delivered his goods before heading for the ship. Back onboard, Dorrie could not sit down. She paced from one end of the bridge to the other, chewing on her thumb nail—a nervous habit that wore on Sern's nerves. "What ails you, Burkhart?” Sern inquired. She had once tried to delve into the Terran woman's mind only to find it a quagmire of perversity that made her feel unclean. She'd retreated quickly and tried to refrain from going seeking in that marsh again. "Zainabu's brother said there were others going after the Reapers on Rysalia Prime.” She turned to look at Sern. “A man named McGregor is their leader." "Isn't that the royal house of Serenia?” Aegean asked. "Aye, it is,” Dorrie replied. "You need to tell the Major,” Aegean said. "I will and Cree will need to know, too." "If we have help in saving Cree's bloodkin, why should that so concern you?” Sern queried. "What if the Daughters know there will be a rescue attempt?” Dorrie asked. “They'll be on high security alert. It will be next to impossible to break the cadets free.” A look of horror sped across her face. “Or to get Kam out of there safely." "We have to trust that the goddess will keep Her part of the bargain She made with Cree,” Sern said. “He was promised he could take his men and leave. Remember?" Zainabu was following the conversation between the Terran and the Amazeen. She had few dealings with the Multitude and bore as much mistrust of them as did her menfolk but there was one person she did trust and that was the goddess to whom all women of her galaxy owed allegiance. "If the goddess made such a promise to Cree, She will make sure it comes to pass,” the Necromanian woman stated. “This I know to be a fact." "I hope you're right,” Dorrie said. **** Crouched in the corner of the containment cell, Kamerone Cree had long sense lost the human ability to speak. He was immersed completely in the persona of his bestial self and was beyond listening in to the concerns of the women. His body hurt so badly he could do nothing save whimper. It had been over twenty-four hours since his last intake of Sustenance, two days since Triso had dredged through his veins to calm the agony of the parasite coiling and uncoiling over his right kidney. His savage instincts had been

intensified and he was now in a dark, agonizing place that had elevated his body temperature to such heights his blood was boiling in his veins. His fur was soaked, pressed tightly to his heaving flesh and he was hassling as he tried to cool his raging skin. Now and again, he would whine pitifully, his crimson eyes rolling in his head as pain trumpeted through him in wave after unrelenting wave. Although his animal persona had taken control of him, his memories were intact and they were hounding him, nipping at his heels as he tried to get away from them. **** "I don't want your excuses, Cree,” she had said, her voice cold. They had stared at one another for a long time, and then his words had broken the silence. "What is it that you want then?” he had asked her. His heart was breaking for he already knew the answer. He had read it in her mind. "I want you to leave." The pain had been so much worse than any re-enforcement therapy he had ever undergone. It hurt far worse than any agony ever inflicted upon him. And it had broken his spirit. "Where am I to go?” he had whispered, tears filling his eyes. “What am I to do, Bridget?" Bridget's words were like pinpricks to his heart. “I don't care where you go or what you do. If you can't go in there and pick up our son, hold our son, I want nothing more to do with you, Kamerone." Sorrow welled up in his soul as the memory came back to taunt him. She had cast him from her life, tossed him away as the useless thing he believed himself to be. She had wanted nothing more to do with him. Tylan Kahn's face floated through his mind's eye and another memory came flooding back to tear at his heart. They had taken Bridget from him and given her to Kahn... "Are you well, milady?” he had asked. His hungry gaze passed over her worried face. "Yes,” she had replied in a broken voice, her misery very real and laid bare for any and all to see. Cree saw the tears forming and felt like ripping the room apart in his fury. “Has he hurt you?" Bridget shook her head. “No. He's been very good to me." "Has he.... “Cree could not ask. His attention shifted from his woman to the man standing too near to her. “Did he.... “He swallowed. “I wanted to be sure he had not done anything to you,” was all he could say. "What the hell are you implying, Cree?” Kahn had snapped. “What was it you thought I would do?" "You know your reputation better than I do, Kahn,” Cree shot back. Their eyes locked and he thought he could see a smirk in the Admiral's. It drove him absolutely insane. “If you have dared use my woman.."

"Just what do you think you could do about it if I have?" **** Horrendous sorrow swamped Cree's brain and though his tongue could not speak human words, he whined—the only way he had to relieve the mental agony. Bridget, he thought, my Bridget. Or did she now belong at last to Tylan Kahn? The animal within him snarled at the thought of his mate being touched by another male. She was his! Only he had the right to mate with her, care for her. Only he had the right to sow his seed within her. A low, keening sound came from the bestial throat. It was a sound of loneliness, hopelessness, and utter misery.

Chapter Four "Is that the ship?” Andeana Ramirez asked the woman walking beside her. Lupe Sanchez nodded. “TheAlluvia .” She shuddered. “I don't like the looks of it." Between the two women, they had two months supply of pharmaceutical-grade Trisomine which they had pilfered from the facility where they worked. Barely escaping being caught by a watchman, they knew they would not be able to return to the warehouse again. Waberi would have to find them new jobs within his organization. They dared not allow themselves to be caught for possession of any amount of Triso was punishable by life-long imprisonment. Being found out might even earn them each a death sentence. "We are being followed,” Ramirez said for the fifth time. She glanced behind them but was unable to see their pursuer. "You are afraid of your own shadow, Deana,” Sanchez declared. “There is no one behind us." "I can feel him,” Ramirez insisted. "You are imagining things,” Sanchez told her. "Lupe, I am afraid." "You are a coward,” Sanchez corrected. “We will finish our task and leave. Stop standing there gawking around as if you expect something to jump out at us!" They had reached the Amazeen LRC and Sanchez looked up at the vid-com camera. “We are here to see Zainabu Waberi, sister of Demissie,” she stated. "Is anyone watching them?” Sern asked Aegean. "None that I can see."

"Then let them onboard." Aegean disengaged the lock on the entry portal, scanning the women as they boarded the ship. Satisfied they carried no weapons she allowed them onto the bridge. "We were followed,” Ramirez said as soon as they joined the Amazeens. "She doesn't know what she's talking about,” Sanchez bit out. “No one followed us." "I think he did,” Deon said, pointing to a man lurking about the docking bay, glancing furtively from time to time toward theAlluvia . Ramirez went to a vid-com and leaned toward the screen. “It is Ortega!” she declared, her hand quivering at her throat. “I knew we were being followed!" "Who is Ortega?” Sern asked. "The security chief of Osana Pharmaceutical,” Sanchez answered. “By the goddess, I didn't see him mincing along behind us, brutish little turd that he is." "I told you,” Ramirez said. “I told you we were being followed!" "Aye, you did,” Sanchez said on a long sigh. "We can't let him arrest us,” Ramirez said, wringing her hands. “He likes to torture people before he turns them over to the authorities." "The Major's back,” Aegean reported. “Chanz and Tyrian are with her." "Do you have the Triso?” Sern asked. "Aye, but you were to give us the money and we were to take it back to Waberi,” Sanchez answered. “If we don't, he'll come after us and...." "He will slit our throats!” Ramirez said, whining as though she was about to begin sobbing. "I will explain for you,” Zainabu said. She and Dorrie had come on to the bridge together. "Sern?” Kahmal inquired, looking up into the vid-com. “Why is the portal locked?" With her psychic ability homed in on the Major, Sern silently warned her of the man lurking near the docking bay. She told her the women were there with the Triso but they dared not disembark for fear of being taken into custody. "Open the portal and let us in,” Kahmal said. “We'll deal with any subsequent problems once we're on board." The lock cycled open and the Major and the two Amazeen warrioresses with her entered the ship. Kahmal came straight to the Com monitor and asked to see the man in question. "That one,” Sern pointed out.

Kahmal turned to the Ionarian women. “Does he know for a certainty you stole drugs from the warehouse?" "He could only suspect,” Sanchez replied. “We were careful with what we took. Inventory control won't find it missing for at least a week. We don't dare go back." "You couldn't have been too careful or the bastard wouldn't have followed you,” Kahmal stated. "If he even suspects we took Triso,” Ramirez said, shuddering, “our lives are forfeit." "How much did you bring with you?” Kahmal asked. "Two months supply,” Sanchez answered "We only paid him for one month,” Kahmal stated. “Why did he send two?" "Waberi said the second month was his gift to the man who needed it,” Sanchez explained. "Did he tell you who it was for?” Zainabu asked. Sanchez shook her head. “No, milady. We didn't want to know." Kahmal tucked her lower lip between her teeth. “The electronic supplies should be here shortly. We can't leave until we have what we need." "What's to become of us?” Ramirez asked. Her hands were tumbling over and over one another in her agitation. "These women can't leave the ship. If the security agent scans these women, he'll find traces of the Triso on them,” Sern warned. “He'll know they brought it to us and inform the authorities we have the med." "Then we'd better come up with a plausible reason for these women to stay onboard theAlluvia ,” Dorrie said. "What plausible reason?” Sern inquired. "We're dead meat,” Ramirez whined. "We won't let that happen,” Kahmal said. “Open a line to Tobora Electronics, Deon." **** Jose Ortega lifted his foot and placed it on the base of the stanchion by which he was standing. Taking out his handkerchief, he bent down to swipe at a smudge on the toe of his highly shined boot, making sure he kept a keen eye on the Amazeen ship that Sanchez and Ramirez had boarded. He had only his suspicions that the women were up to no good. Ramirez had been acting strangely, turning to look behind her every few minutes, as she and Sanchez left the warehouse for their noonday meal. Now considering where they had gone, he was convinced the women were guilty of something. What were the two doing on an Amazeen ship of all places? A quartet of deliverymen walked past where Ortega was standing, all heading for the ship in question.

He reached out to the last man. “Who are you with?” he asked. The deliveryman recognized the security man. “Tobora Electronics, milord,” the man answered, fear of Ortega hovering in his pale gray eyes. “We are providing components for the Amazeen ship's duplicator." "And where is the ship bound?” Ortega asked, his beady eyes narrowing. "They are on their way to Rysalia Prime for the Feast of Alluvial,” the man replied, relaying what his manager had told him to say should they be stopped for any reason. "They stopped here to pick up Daughters wishing to attend the Feast. You know how it is with the Multitude and their silliness." "Aye, silliness is just what it is,” Ortega said and motioned the man on his way. He stared at the Amazeen ship as the deliverymen handed over the equipment to two tall women with fierce expressions. Deciding Sanchez and Ramirez were even more stupid than he thought to follow the dictates of a bizarre cult, he turned and sauntered away, cursing himself for wasting time. He made a mental note to see the women were fired summarily for traipsing off to some ridiculous female celebration. **** "I don't know if it is wise to do this,” Kahmal said as Dorrie loaded the vac-syringe. “Going into the cell with him...." "He won't hurt me,” Dorrie said. She held the vac-syringe up and flicked the glass barrel with her middle finger. “I'm not afraid of him." Kahmal walked with her to the elevator that would take them down to the cargo hold and the containment cell. She glanced at Dorrie out of the corner of her eye. “Was it love at first sight for you, Burkhart?” she asked. “Have you always loved him?" Dorrie snorted. “Not gods-be-damned likely,” she said and thought of the first time she'd come into contact with Kamerone Cree. “I believe the first words I ever said to him were we are going to restrain you now." "I would imagine he did not like that." "Hated it,” Dorrie said. “We tortured him that day. There was no other way to describe what we did.” She shrugged. “At first, I was impersonal about it. Hell, it was my job and I hated the Rysalians and especially the Reapers—Kamerone Cree being right at the top of my list but then.... “She stopped as the elevator settled and the doors shushed open. "But then?” Kahmal questioned. "Then I saw him cry,” she said softly and preceded the Amazeen from the elevator. "Seeing him cry bothered you?” Kahmal pressed. "It was the sixth morning of his stay in the Be-Mod unit,” Dorrie said. “He actually told me good morning and that shocked me.” She stopped, looking down at the vac-syringe. “He had been in there longer than any patient we'd ever had and Bridie had slipped behind the director's back and given him a sedative because he hadn't slept in five days. I think by then all of us were feeling a bit protective of him."

"Why?” Kahmal asked. “After all, he was a Reaper. Such treatment was normal for him wasn't it?" "Not at the hands of a woman,” Dorrie said. She twisted the vac-syringe, watching the play of the overhead lights on the glass barrel. “No woman had ever hurt him before. No woman had ever dared.” She closed her eyes. “We almost lost him that day. He flat lined. He needed Triso and I went after it for him." "Against orders?" Dorrie nodded. “I could have been hanged if they'd caught me but at that point I didn't care. He was so helpless, so grateful for even the smallest hint of kindness we gave him that it tore at my heart.” She sighed. “I gave him the Triso and Bridie stayed with him because he didn't want her to leave him. As I walked away, I realized I was beginning to have feelings for him that I shouldn't. From then on my hand lingered longer and longer on his body when I was helping take care of him." "Mayhap he spread a glamour over you,” Kahmal suggested. “Sent you a subliminal." "No, he was too weak for such things and the neuroinhibitors flooding his system would not have allowed it. He was unable to send any kind of enthrallment our way." They made their way to the door of the containment cell. "I will always regret having hurt him as I did by going after him,” Kahmal said, staring at the door to the con cell. "I hurt him badly once,” Dorrie said. “Cut him right to the quick." "How?" Dorrie's eyes brightened with unshed tears. “When he was in the Be-Mod unit, there were sublims being fed to him. Sublims to make him need Bridie, to fall in love with her so he would aid the Resistance. I told him about them." Her words came back to haunt Dorrie:"Did you really think she would fall in love with you without a little help from us, Cree?" "What happened when he found out?" "Nothing,” Dorrie said. She motioned for Kahmal to open the door to the cell. "Are you sure you want to do this?” the Amazeen asked. "Just open the door,” Dorrie snapped. Kahmal took a deep breath and punched in the code, taking out her laser gun set to heavy stun to be on the safe side. "You won't need that,” Dorrie told her. “He won't come out until he's no danger to us.” She slipped past the door and into the containment cell.

He was crouched in the corner, his eyes boring into her as she slowly approached him. She knelt down beside him. "I have your med, Kami,” she said quietly, reaching out to stroke the wet fur of the beast. It growled at her, showing its teeth, but she did not snatch her trembling hand back. She continued to smooth the beast's matted coat until it stopped growling and gave a single, pitiful whimper. "I know you are hurting, baby,” she said. “I'm here to make it better." Tears brightened Dorrie's eyes as she bent over the beast. Sweeping aside a section of the wet hair on the side of the beast's neck, she eased the needle into its flesh. So drained was the animal, it barely flinched as the thick, fiery liquid shot through its system. It simply sighed, quivered, and lay still. "Get out of there, Dorrie,” Kahmal ordered. Dorrie got to her feet and backed away slowly, making no sudden moves that might be misconstrued in the Reaper's glazed eyes. “It's all right, baby,” she said. “Everything is going to be all right.” She was barely out the door before she heard a yowl that raised the hair on her arms. As the lock to the containment cell door clicked to behind her, she slumped against the wall, her face in her hands. "I'll stay here until he's out of Transition,” Kahmal said gently. She had a dark green jumpsuit clutched in her arms and on the floor beside her was another pair of boots she hoped was the right size since the pair Prince Kamau had given Cree had ripped apart and was lying in pieces in the containment cell. Dorrie was sobbing. Her heart ached for the proud man who had been reduced to the pathetic animal in the cell. She'd seen him many times at some of the lowest points in his life, but she'd never seen him looking as hopeless as she had in the containment cell. "If I could get hold of the bitch who cursed him like that, I'd strangle her,” Dorrie said of the Reaper's long-dead mother. Kahmal's eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean? What woman? What curse?" Dorrie ran the back of her hand under her nose. “You don't know how he came to be a Reaper?" "I know he was made, but I never cared enough to ask how,” Kahmal stated. "Well, it's something you need to know. It goes a long way in explaining who he is." "Then I am interested in learning." "His mother cursed him before he was born,” Dorrie said. “She was one of the fabled Seven Sisters of the Sword, daughters of the royal house of Brell in Chale." "I vaguely remember Hael Sejm saying something about the Seven Sisters. She was one of them." Dorrie nodded and leaned against the wall. “They were attacked and raped by a band of Rysalians led by Drae Cree, Kam's father. All but one of them conceived, the exception being Sejm whom no man ever wanted to mount more than once." "Understandable,” Kahmal said dryly. “Who would want to hump such a witch?"

"Because they'd been abducted from their home on Chale, raped and handed over as chattel to their rapists, Analeis Brell—Kamerone's mother—cursed the men and anything that might come of the rape. Analeis was Morrígú, the Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter born with a caul, and her curse was fulfilled. When Kamerone was born, he was in beastly form but when he began changing to human form, his mother took on the animal nature herself. Drae Cree thought she was a beast trying to devour his son—for Analeis was cleaning off the afterbirth—and he killed her." "So in essence she not only cursed her unborn child, she cursed herself,” Kahmal said. "She became the beast she had made of her son,” Dorrie said. A long howl of grief undulated from the containment cell. "Help him!” Dorrie cried out to whatever entity was nearby. “Stop his torment!" Another wavering whine came from the cell, but it died down quickly as though an unseen hand had been laid on the suffering animal's head to soothe it. **** Sanchez and Ramirez were none too happy about traveling with the Amazeen but neither had a great desire to have Jose Ortega get his grubby hands on them. The Ionarians had taken the Major up on her offer to take them with her to Rysalia Prime. From there, they hoped to be able to find their way back to Ionary. At least with the Daughters of the Multitude they believed they'd be safe. It wasn't until the Reaper walked into the lounge and began glaring at them that they knew they had gone from the frying pan directly into the fire. "More women?” the Reaper shouted, his hands clenching into fists at his side. “You picked up more women?" "Now, Cree...” the Major began. "C ... Cree?” Ramirez repeated. "I didn't need any more gods-be-damned women! I'm drowning in estrogen now!" "Reaper!” Ramirez yelped, her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted, dropping to the floor in a heap. "See?” Cree snarled, pointing at the unconscious woman. “You see?" Sanchez was staring at him with her mouth open and closing though no sound came out, her eyes wide and popping from her head. Like her friend, she knew exactly what he was and she was quivering in fright for the first time in her life. "Shut your mouth, woman!” Cree yelled at her. “You look like a gods-be-damned trout flopping on the bank of a dry stream!" "Stop scaring her,” Kahmal told him. “If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't have gotten the Triso!" "I don't need this!” the Reaper bellowed and turned to stomp off, his new boots too large for his feet and

clomping against the floor. It was Sern who was the first to laugh. She had read things in the Reaper's mind that set her sides to splitting with laughter. Beside her, Ceatie was grinning as though he understood what had set his humanoid mistress to cackling with mirth. "Poor Kamerone,” Dorrie said, prying herself up out of her misery. “He's got two more females to worry about." "Reaper,” Sanchez repeated and had to fold her hands under her arm pits to keep them from trembling so violently. "Aye,” Chanz agreed, “but he's our Reaper." **** Dorrie sat down beside him as he hunkered once more in the containment cell. It was there he had gone to exorcize the demons that were riding him with jagged spurs. She leaned against his leg and it was an indication of how drained he was that he didn't order her not to touch him. "Just consider us your harem, Kam,” she said. "It's not funny, Dorrie,” he muttered. “I don't need all this pressure on my shoulders." "It's all in the perspective, baby,” she teased. "Ten women,” he bemoaned. “Ten fucking women." "Some of us would be if you'd allow it but...." He growled a warning at her. "Okay, okay. We'll be at Rysalia Prime day after tomorrow,” she informed him. “You'll be exchanging ten of us for ten thousand." "Don't remind me,” he said on a long sigh. "You'll look back on this time and have plenty of stories to tell Jaelin,” she said, caressing his knee. “Just think of the insulting things you can impart to him about the weaker sex." Cree snorted. “Weaker my sore ass,” he responded. "Want me to stroke it and make it better?” she offered. He sighed again. “Dorrie...." "Do you remember the first time we met?” she asked. "I remember you jamming an airline down my throat in the Be-Mod unit,” he answered. “And you were none too gentle doing it, wench." "Aye, well, you weren't breathing,” she said. “I wasn't going to tippy toe putting in the tube."

"And you gave me Triso when I wasn't supposed to get it." "Did I do that?" "You know gods-be-damned well you did,” he countered with a yawn. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for sexy amber eyes." "Dorrie to the rescue,” he said and surprised the hell out of her by laying his head on her shoulder. “Gods, but I'm tired. My head hurts,” he said. "Lay it right here, stud,” she said, patting her lap and was shocked even more when he did as she suggested. He slid his hand under the upper part of her leg and curled his fingers around her thigh. They sat like that for a long while. At some point, his free hand crept around hers and their fingers entwined. She stroked his forehead and hummed gently. "You're a good friend to me, Dorrie,” she heard him say. "Aye, well, I'd make you a better lover." He made a chuffing sound to that statement. In a few moments, she knew by his breathing that he was sleeping. **** "What kind of ship?” Kahmal asked. She'd been awakened after only an hour of rest and was out of sorts as she hurried beside Chanz. "We believe its Serenian,” Chanz reported. “A StarRaider class with one hell of a heat signature. It is loaded to the gills with weapons." "Did you try to raise it?" "Aye, but they are ignoring us. We did a scan and it's a vessel manned exclusively by women." "Aye, well the scan may be accurate but then again it might not,” Kahmal said, “if they have the engineering Waberi mentioned to Zainabu and Dorrie, there could be men on that ship." "Could they be going where we're going?” Aegean inquired. "Serenians on their way to Rysalia Prime for the Feast?” Sern questioned. “I wouldn't think so. They have Daughters of the Multitude on Serenia but they aren't as rabid as the ones on Rysalia Prime." "What about Serenians on their way to rescue Reaper cadets?” Dorrie asked, hope glowing in her cornflower blue eyes. “What you want to bet there's a man in there with the last name McGregor?" "If they are heading for Rysalia Prime to rescue the cadets, they'd better have men on board,” Chanz said, “for Serenian women aren't known for their fighting skills.” She thought for a moment. “Although I've heard the royal house has had some pretty powerful warrior women in the past."

"Maybe their leader is a McGregor woman,” Dorrie suggested. “Could this be the ship your brother mentioned?" "Demissie said it was a man with whom he dealt,” Zainabu insisted. “He would not deal with a woman. You saw how reluctant he was to deal with me and I am family." "If the StarRaider docks on Rysalia Prime, they will be inspected, not just scanned. You and I both know the Rysalians aren't going to allow even a single male anywhere near the Titaness,” Dorrie said. “If the Serenians are mounting a rescue they'd know that and it stands to reason they'd send only women. I imagine the scan is accurate where this ship is concerned. Try opening a channel, Deon,” Kahmal ordered. Deon did as she was told. “Unknown Serenian StarRaider. This is the LRC theAlluvia captained by Major Akkadia Kahmal on route to Rysalia Prime. What is your destination?" Silence met the hail. "They are gearing up their weapons,” Aegean said quietly. "Expecting us to attack them?” Kahmal inquired, her eyes wide. "So it would seem." "Put me on screen,” Kahmal ordered. "Unknown Serenian StarRaider, I am...." "We know who you are, ‘Kadia." An image settled on the vid-com screen and Kahmal slumped back in her seat. She stared at the young woman who was glaring at her. “It's been a long time, Raphaella,” Kahmal said. "Not long enough,” the daughter of the Domestic queen stated. “Turn your ship around and go back to Amazeen or we will blow you out of the sky. Believe me when I tell you we have the capability and the desire to do so." "I am on a mission to Rysalia Prime,” Kahmal stated. "It doesn't matter. Turn back or suffer the consequences of your failure to do as I command,” Raphaella snapped. Cree walked onto the bridge at that moment. He stared at the beautiful woman on the vid-com and wondered why she bore Kahmal such hatred. He switched his gaze to Sern. "She is the Princess Raphaella, daughter of the Domestic Queen. She is Terran born so that accounts for her rudeness,"Sern sent to him."And she is a traitor to our people. There is a bounty for her capture." "What did she do?"

"She helped a Reaper escape Amazeen, taking four members of his crew with them. If she's caught she will be executed for her crime." "Which Reaper did she aid?" Sern frowned."Why don't you ask her? She is priming her weapons to annihilate us and I've got my hands full here, Cree." The Reaper walked over to Kahmal's command chair and laid his hands on the Amazeen Major's shoulders, feeling her tense beneath his touch. “Princess Raphaella,” he said. “I am Kamerone Cree." Raphaella gasped, the sound loud over the vid-com. “Cree,” she whispered, the word said in awe. “That is your mission, Akkadia? Taking the Prime Reaper to Rysalia Prime for execution?" "I understand there is a bounty out for you,” Cree continued. “As one who knows all too intimately the feel of an Amazeen noose tightening around his neck, I can sympathize." "Why are you not restrained?” Raphaella asked. "There is no reason to shackle him,” Kahmal said. “He's a free man." "You are not a prisoner on Kahmal's ship?” Raphaella asked, her gaze locked on Cree. "It started out that way,” he admitted. "But no longer?" "Attribution was declared by me, Lt. Melankhoia Chanz and Lt. Cirolia Sern,” Kahmal said, reaching up to cover one of Cree's hands with hers. “Our lives belong to him as does the loyalty of my crew." "Attribution,” Raphaella said. “That is an honorable act, indeed, and deserving of your loyalty, ‘Kadia." "It is a loyalty he has richly earned and we mean to uphold,” Kahmal said. “That holds for my entire crew." Raphaella seemed to relax. “Reapers are not what we were led to believe, are they, ‘Kadia?" "I only know this one and he is nothing like the way he was portrayed to me,” Kahmal responded. "We would appreciate it if you would have your gunners stand down,” Cree said. “I've got enough of a headache already without having the top of my cranium blown off in the bargain." Raphaella nodded and looked off to one side, apparently giving the order to her crew. "How is it you are in command of a Serenian vessel, Raphie?” Kahmal asked. "You are going to Rysalia Prime?” Raphaella countered, ignoring the question. "To rescue my bloodkin,” Cree admitted. "Like father, like son,” Raphaella said.

Cree stiffened. “Son? Of whom do you speak?" "If you are caught there, you will be hanged,” Kahmal said, knowing full well the identity of the son to whom Raphaella referred. “You know that, Raphaella." Raphaella cocked a shoulder. “We all have to die sometime,” she said. “Unless you're a Reaper." "Even Reaper's die, young one,” Cree told her. He did not miss Kahmal trying to forestall the identity of the Reaper to whom Raphaella alluded. "Not on my watch they won't,” Raphaella said. “Your bloodkin will not meet the fate set aside for them. I am here to make sure of that. We will run interference for those snatching the cadets from harm's way. There isn't a ship in the Rysalian fleet that can hold a candle to mine and we are loaded with more firepower than you can imagine." "You have a McGregor woman on board?” Dorrie asked, coming to stand beside Cree. Raphaella nodded. “Maeve Lynne McGregor? Who are you and why do you ask?" "She's the leader,” Dorrie whispered to Cree. “Not this one." "I wouldn't be so sure,” Kahmal disagreed. "I am Dorrie Burkhart, a Terran once hostage of the Rysalians." "Why do you ask about McGregor?” Raphaella persisted. "I was the mate of Prince Raine McGregor,” Dorrie said. “On Terra." "He is my cousin!” a young blonde woman said as she rushed to Raphaella's side. “He is alive? He is well?" "When we were taken from Terra he was,” Dorrie replied. She looked at the woman and had to admit she certainly didn't look like a war leader. She was petite and rather fragile-looking. "Why are you being hunted, young one?” Cree asked Raphaella, deciding she was the one in charge. “What crime did you commit against your race?" Raphaella lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with pride. “Nothing of consequence, milord Prime Reaper. I am merely the mate of Khiershon Cree and it was I who set him free!"

Chapter Five Khiershon Cree, eldest son of Kamerone, rolled over in the over-sized bunk and gathered his wife to him. He nuzzled her neck to wake her. “You are becoming lazy in your advancing years, Cait,” he murmured, his tongue swirling over her flesh. "You wore me out last night, Reaper,” Caitlin said with a grunt. “You are insatiable."

"Only where you are concerned,” he stated. A chime sounded and the vid-com came on. “'And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting',” Khiershon's cybot answered the incoming call. "Knock it off, Raven,” Iyan McGregor snapped in an annoyed voice. “Khier, you're needed on the bridge." "'Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning',” the ‘bot said and trundled away. "Was he in here again last night?” Caitlin demanded of her husband. Khiershon sighed. “I believe he was." "Voyeur!” Caitlin shouted after the ‘bot. “Peeping Tom!" "'By you—by yours, the evil eye,—by yours, the slanderous tongue',” Raven snipped. "I'll pull your plug, Raven!” Caitlin vowed. "'No more—no more upon thy verdant slopes!'” the ‘bot rattled off, shaking its cumbersome head. "You'd best believe not, Raven!” Caitlin flung at the retreating A.I.U. "'Nevermore.’” Khiershon laughed. He'd programmed the ‘bot with the words of a famous Terran poet and it seemed to irritate Caitlin no end. "Khier?” McGregor demanded. “Did you hear what I said?" "Aye, Iyan, I heard you. I'm on my way." Caitlin watched her husband fling aside the covers and walk naked to the closet to retrieve his uniform. She liked to watch the play of muscles on his brawny body and never grew tired of ogling him. He shunned underwear and was stepping into the sleek tight black leather britches that fit him so lovingly. "Don't be calling Raven a voyeur, wench,” the Reaper threw over his shoulder. “My cheeks are burning from the heat of your stare." "Which set of cheeks, milord?” she asked innocently, folding the sheet down from her lush breasts. "Stop teasing,” he warned as he plucked a black silk shirt from among the many that hung in his wardrobe. Caitlin lifted her arms and stretched, her bare nipples rising in invitation. “I don't know what you mean,” she said with a yawn. He was flying through the air and landing on her before she could scramble away, his powerful body pressing her into the mattress, his hands on her breasts, and his mouth at the tempting hollow of her throat. “Stay right here until I return, wench,” he ordered. “I won't be long."

Caitlin lowered her arms and ran her hands through his thick dark brown hair, anchoring his head to her throat as he licked at her flesh, moving lower to claim one rosy nipple before he released her and got up from the bunk. She sighed as he began tucking his shirt into his britches. “I like you naked beneath the sheets with me, Reaper,” she said. "No more so than I like being there, wench,” he retorted, sitting on the edge of the bunk to pull on his boots, “but duty calls." "No, McGregor calls,” Caitlin said with a snort. "Same thing,” he reminded her and was out the door before she could tell him goodbye. Walking down the corridor to the elevator that would take him up to theDarkWind's bridge, Khiershon passed two of the Terran women who had been members of the ship's crew when it had been a Terran medivac ship called theOrion . He nodded to the women. "How's Cait this morning?” Pat Rasey inquired. "Satiated beyond her wildest dreams, Pitty Pat,” he said smugly and continued on his way. He could feel the women staring after him and grinned. He liked annoying Cait's friends almost as much as he enjoyed aggravating his own. Iyan was pacing in front of the command chair when Khiershon took the bridge. "Captain on the bridge!” Dakim Hesar, the Com Officer, called out simply because he knew it irritated the Reaper. "Everyone at ease save Hesar!” Khiershon muttered. He felt a niggling worry crawling down his spine and flexed his shoulders. “What's going on, Iyan?" "She took the gods-be-damned StarRaider,” Iyan snapped. “Her and a crew of sixty Serenian and Oceanian women warrioresses with nothing better to do than to drive a sane man to drink! Imagine what she's doing to me!" Khiershon frowned. “Who?" "That Amazeen virago of yours!” Iyan told him. “She loaded the cruiser down with laser pulse cannons and left Corinth two days after we did! We just picked up her signal and believe me when I say I could throttle that woman!" Groaning, Khiershon dropped down into the captain's command chair. “Where the fuck is she now?” His worry was growing in leaps and bounds and it was an unease that disturbed him greatly. "At last report sitting somewhere near Ionary in a face off with an Amazeen LRC.” At Khiershon's grimace, Iyan nodded. “Aye and with weapons primed and locked on target." "The stupid little bitch,” Khiershon cursed. “How far away are we?" "Not close enough to intervene before she engages in full all out combat with the LRC,” Iyan complained.

"We need that StarRaider,” Khiershon stated. “It's the only vessel we have that has enough power and equipment to get us to Terra once we have my bloodkin in tow." "TheOrion got us to Montyne Vex,” Marti Holloway, the Terran who had been an engineer on theOrion and was now co-engineer along with Nyndham Dax of theDarkWind said. “It can get us back to Terra." "Not with the amount of crew we'll have on board by then,” Dax disagreed. “We'll need more E.S.U.s and containment cells." "And theDarkWind is not as quick as the StarRaider nor does it have as much firepower,” Khiershon put in. "Aye, well, there's that,” Marti acknowledged. "I told Raphaella to stay in Corinth,” Khiershon grumbled. “Why the hell didn't she listen to me?" "I imagine she calls herself protecting you,” Iyan replied. "She's more apt to get herself and her crew killed,” Khiershon complained. "And the StarRaider blown to bits or so disabled it will be worthless to us,” Iyan added. "What do you want to do?” Sinjin Wynth, the navigator asked. "We're four days away from Rysalia Prime,” Iyan reminded Khiershon. “If we go to Raphie's aid, we run the risk of not being where we need to be when your bloodkin are brought out for execution. If we don't lock on to them as soon as they are out of the Titaness, we can kiss their asses goodbye." "We'll have one chance and one chance only so we've got to time it just right,” Wynth declared. "Aye, I know,” Khiershon said. He plowed a hand through his hair. “What's happening with the StarRaider?" "Still sitting there,” Hesar reported. “They're carrying on a conversation and...” His eyebrows shot up. “She's powering down her weapons." "Is the bitch surrendering?” Iyan hissed. He reached up to tug two handfuls of his hair. “By the gods, she can't be giving the Amazeen my gods-be-damned StarRaider!" "Can you patch in their communications to our vid-com?” Khiershon queried, glancing at Iyan. “Stop pulling your hair out, McGregor. You don't have all that much to begin with." Hesar's fingers sped over the keyboard and Raphaella's voice came over the vid-com loud and clear: ".. I am merely the mate of Khiershon Cree and it was I who set him free!" Iyan turned a horrified face to the Reaper and saw a dark red stain spreading over Cree's complexion. “Who the hell is she bragging to?” McGregor gasped. "Open a channel to her, Bryan,” Khiershon said between clenched teeth. “Now!"

Despite all Bryan could do, any transmission between theDarkWind and Raphaella's ship could not be linked. “She's got a block on all incoming messages,” Bryan reported. "What about the other ship?” Iyan barked. “Do we have any idea who's in charge of it? Whose ship is it anyway?" "TheAlluvia ,” Hesar answered, tapping into the Intergalactic Registration data bank. “An Amazeen LRC registered to a Captain Thalia Chakai. I'm doing a scan of the vessel and finding ten women and two males, one of which is a werebeast." "A male onboard an Amazeen vessel?” Dax questioned. "He is their prisoner,” Iyan said. "Aye and I'll wager he's a Reaper, too,” Khiershon said, cursing beneath his breath. “Sajin, perhaps?" "So what do we do?” Iyan asked. "We can't leave him on that ship if he's a Reaper, can we?” Hesar inquired. "I don't see any way around it. Let's just hope he isn't being tortured,” Iyan said and saw Khiershon flinch. "I'm not getting any psychic signals that that is happening. If they are taking him to Rysalia Prime, we'll have to be prepared to extract him along with the rest of my bloodkin when the time comes,” Khiershon said then shrugged. “Just keep an eye on them and if anything changes, let me know." "She was definitely bragging to Chakai,” Iyan said. “Do you think the Amazeen could be a friend?" "Raphie doesn't have any women friends,” Khiershon replied. “It's a strange situation all the way around but we're not close enough to get involved." "And shouldn't give ourselves away,” Hesar put in. "I hope to the heavens Raphie hasn't lessened our chances of rescuing your kin,” Iyan said. “If she has, I'll strangle the wench myself!" "She's not crazy enough to tell Chakai what she's planning or that we're on our way to Rysalia Prime,” Khiershon said. "Aye, but Chakai and every Amazeen alive knows you're somewhere out here and she'll put two and two together and realize Raphaella is either going to your aid or backing you up,” Iyan suggested. "Is our firewall still reporting what we want it to?” Khiershon asked. "Every living thing on this vessel is being defined as female,” Cathy Atherton, the systems tech, spoke up. “No way will anyone be able to scan male presences on theDarkWind . So if theAlluvia passes its scanners over us, we'll show up as an all-female crew. The block is engaged on all sound emanating from our vessel so no one can pick up our conversations."

"Raphaella blocked incoming transmissions but didn't have sense enough to block outgoing. For that alone she needs her ass whipped!” Iyan growled. "We shouldn't have anything to worry about for now,” Khiershon said. “I've other pressing matters to see to. Keep me informed." "What other matters?” Iyan questioned, but his friend and commander was already strolling away, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder. **** Caitlin was getting bored lying in the bunk and had decided to get up and get dressed when she heard Raven mumbling out in the living area. "’ ‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door'." "Who is it, Raven?” she asked, throwing the covers aside. "'Come to me, by all means, my dear good friend',” the ‘bot called out. Cait heard Khiershon's voice as his boots hit the floor and she smiled. She listened and realized he was shutting down the ‘bot. That could mean only one thing. She stretched out on the bunk on her side—one arm crooked over her bare chest—and awaited her lover. His eyes were gleaming when he came into the sleeping chamber. He stood in the doorway and heat began building in his eyes as he stared at her. "You turned off the ‘bot,” she said in a low whisper. "Aye,” he said and his hands went to the buttons of his black silk shirt. “I want no interference." "Interference with what, milord?” she said in a husky voice. "Your ravishment, wench,” he replied. “I need to lose myself in you even more after than visit to the bridge." The last button came undone and he spread the silk garment, tugging it free of his bitches, giving her a view of the hairy expanse of his heavily-muscled chest with the livid red tattoo on the left pectoral. As he worked loose the buttons at his wrists, he held her gaze captured in the dark amber glint of his. "What was so important Iyan had to have you visit him this morning?” Caitlin asked, sweeping her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just Raphaella slipping in deep foig,” he said and peeled the shirt from his body. At the mention of her rival, Caitlin's lips pursed. “What did she do now?" His hands were on the black jet studs that held together the fly of his uniform britches. “Nothing she can't handle,” he said then added beneath his breath, “I hope." "What did she do?” Caitlin repeated with exasperation.

"She took the StarRaider and came after us,” he said, spreading his fly open and pushing the tight britches down his lean hips. "Even after you told her to stay where you left her?” Caitlin asked. "She thinks she's protecting me." "She thinks you still belong to her,” Caitlin grumbled. "Apparently so,” he said, remembering the words he'd heard her saying to the Amazeen captain. "We need to disabuse her of that notion, Reaper,” Caitlin snapped. “Youneed to disabuse her of the notion or she'll continue to be a problem." Khiershon sighed as he stepped out of his pants. “I'll have a talk with her." "And I'll be there to add my two cents worth,” she announced. “Is she following us?" "She's sitting in the middle of the galaxy with an Amazeen LRC in front of her, calmly conversing as though nothing of import was happening in our world,” he grumbled. Caitlin's eyebrows shot up. “She's talking with other Amazeens? I thought she was persona non grata to them." "As best we can tell, there is no animosity between her ship and theirs. Raphie powered down her weapons and is just chatting away like nothing unusual is happening. And there's a Reaper aboard that Amazeen vessel,” he said then flung out a hand. "Oh, Khiershon, no!” Caitlin said. “What are you going to...?" "I can't deal with that right now,” her lover snarled. “I can't sit here and think a bloodkin of mine is being tortured. There's nothing I can do about it, but I will rescue him as soon as we get to Rysalia Prime. That I swear!" Tossing his britches beside his shirt, he padded over to the bunk and stood staring down at his wife, a muscle working in his tight jaw. "I need you, wench,” he said. “By the gods, I need you desperately right now. I need to lose myself in you." Caitlin knew he wanted to be distracted, to get his mind off whatever might be happening to one of his own that he could neither prevent nor stop. It was Khier's way. She smiled and opened her arms. “I am here, milord." He turned his head to one side as he gazed at her. "'For in his heart, as in thy stream, Her image deeply lies

His heart which trembles at the beam Of her soul-searching eyes',” he quoted. "From which of his poems did that come?” she asked, her heart thudding at the love blazing from his gaze. "To the River,” he replied. "Poe wrote some good stuff,” she said. "Aye, that he did,” Khiershon said and dipped his knee to the over-sized bunk. Facing her, he propped his head on his closed fist and let his gaze wander over her shapely form. "What would Iyan say if he knew you'd come back to bed?” she asked softly, reaching out to smooth a lock of thick brown hair from over his forehead. "He'd be pissed,” Khiershon admitted. "And that you planned to ravage your lady?" "He'd be doubly pissed,” the Reaper said with a laugh. She leaned over him, pushing him to his back, her hand trailing slowly and gently over his broad chest. “What if your lady was the one doing the ravaging, milord?" "He'd be shocked to know I'd allow such a thing at a time like this and be amazed that I could enjoy being ravished while I'm worried sick." "Umm,” she said and slid her lips beguilingly over his, claiming his mouth as was her right. She slipped her tongue between his firm lips, tasted him, and then grinned. “Let's shock the hell out of Iyan McGregor, then." The Reaper's arms enclosed her, holding her to him as she thrust that sweet piece of flesh into his mouth once more. His body quivered as she withdrew her tongue and flicked its tip to first one corner then the other of his mouth. "What would he say...” she began as she planted kisses on his cheek, his chin, and then down his neck, “...if your lady were to keep you abed all day and use you for her base intentions?" "There's no telling what he'd say,” Khiershon said, his words coming huskily as her lips closed on the Suprasternal notch at the base of his throat. She suckled the pulse that throbbed there and her actions set his staff to echoing the rhythm. She trailed her fingers down his bare arm from shoulder to elbow and back and again, feeling the goose bumps popping up on his flesh. She was lying atop him, one leg crooked over his left thigh, her lower body resting between his legs. Khiershon closed his eyes as she slid further down him, her lips blazing lightning soft kisses on his pectorals and down his sternum. She had reached up to take one manly pap between her thumb and middle finger and was gently rolling the hard little nub.

"You are a witch, Caitlin Cree,” he whispered. "I am a woman in need of pleasuring her man,” she said, closing her mouth around his nipple. He let his arms fall away from her as she suckled him. Trills of pleasure were undulating through his body. He closed his eyes and gave in to the erotic sensations flowing through him. When her fingernail grazed his navel, he drew in a harsh breath. "Like that?” she whispered. "I am at your mercy, wench. Do whatever you want with me,” he said. His eyes clouded. “Make me forget for awhile." Caitlin spiraled her tongue down his side and into the deep concavity of his belly. He was lying there like a sacrifice, a victim to her ministrations, his hands to either side of his head. She slid her hands to his hips, gripping him and scooted lower on the bunk. Khiershon drew in a ragged breath and his hands moved down to her hair, clamping her head as she plied his willing flesh. He was trembling beneath the sweet ecstasy of lips, a fiery pool of desire flooding his loins. His hands roamed over her head, stroked her hair, pushed it back from her forehead. His breathing grew ragged, his heart pumping faster with each gentle tug of her lips. He stood it for as long as he could then grabbed her upper arms and pulled her up his body, turned them both over so that he was lying atop her, his knees pushing her thighs apart. "What would McGregor say?” she whispered. "The hell with McGregor and his prudish thoughts,” her Reaper proclaimed. He slanted his mouth across hers and claimed her in a heady kiss that took her breath away. His hand went to the juncture of his legs and he slid unerringly into her warm sheath, lifting her rump so he could thrust deeper with lengthening strokes that had her fingernails digging into his back. Caitlin lifted her legs and locked them around her husband's hips, anchoring him to her as he plunged into her heated wetness. She could feel the building pressure flooding into her lower body and arched her hips to meet his thrusts. He filled her, touched the very core of her, and when she climaxed, the peel of her release was lost in the sweet cavity of his mouth, his tongue dueling with hers. Khiershon pulled his mouth free and let his head fall back, a cry of fulfillment pushing at his clenched teeth. He was afraid if he released that sated roar, it would echo through the ship and reach every ear. She looked up at him—the broadness of his shoulders, the damp hair swirling over his chest, the strong column of his throat where a wild pulse throbbed out of control. As he lowered his head and their eyes met, she saw a crimson glint sparking through those amber eyes and knew she had been marked far beyond a lustful mating between lovers. He had given her his seed.

Chapter Six "Any new developments?” Khiershon asked when he made his way back to the bridge later that morning.

Iyan shot him a look then put his hands on his hips and shook his head. There was no need to ask the Reaper where he'd been and what business he'd been conducting. Cree had that afterglow on his handsome face that Iyan had grown to know all too well of late. “Did you take care of your important matters, milord Reaper?” he inquired around a tightly clenched jaw. "Everything came out just fine, McGregor,” Khiershon reported. “Thanks for asking.” He turned to his Com Officer. “What's happening now, Hesar?" "The two ships are sitting right where they were but now the StarRaider is blocking its transmissions. I think the princess realized we're out here monitoring her movements,” Hesar told him, trying to keep a straight face. "It's as though whatever Raphie said to Captain Chakai concerned her and all outgoing conversation between them has been taken up to a more secure channel,” Iyan stated, “so we wouldn't be able to hear it." "They are talking about me,” Khiershon said with disgust. He actually felt his ears burning. "That would be my guess,” Iyan agreed. He glanced at his friend and noticed that the Reaper was plucking at the arm of his command chair, staring at it, preoccupied. "As best we can tell there isn't going to be any trouble from theAlluvia . Her crew never even put their weapons on standby,” Pat Rasey, the weapons’ specialist commented. “Neither ship is geared for confrontation." "I'd like to know what they are discussing for such a gods-be-damned long time,” Iyan grumbled. “They've been sitting there for over two hours, chit-chatting." "Not all women chit-chat, McGregor,” Barb Fuller, a Terran black woman quipped. “They could be exchanging recipes for all you know." Iyan snorted. “I'm more inclined to believe it would be instructions on how best to emasculate the man they're holding captive on theAlluvia .” He glanced at Barb Fuller, the black Terran who understood as no one else did his feelings about such things for in her native country she had been subjected to female genital mutilation. Barb smiled gently at McGregor. "I'm not picking up on him being in pain,” Khiershon said. He felt great sorrow over Iyan having been castrated when they were both captives on Amazeen. "Stop remembering,” Iyan snapped, knowing exactly what his friend was thinking. "Could the Reaper on theAlluvia be under Chakai's protection?” Wynth inquired. "Possible but not gods-be-damned likely,” Khiershon replied. “How many Amazeens do you know who are on the side of a Reaper?" "We know at least one,” Iyan said.

"Well, whatever they were discussing, it seems to be at an end,” Dax said. “They're engaging engines." There was a long moment of silence, and then Iyan asked, “Are they moving away from one another?" "No,” Dax replied. “The StarRaider is dropping in behind theAlluvia ." "What the hell is she doing?” Khiershon demanded, shooting to his feet. “Try hailing her ass again, Bryan!" "Unknown Serenian StarRaider, this is theDarkWind ,” Helen Bryan radioed. “Please respond." "Does the StarRaider even have a name?” Iyan asked. "Not to my knowledge,” Wynth replied. “It hadn't been christened yet when we left." "What you want to bet Raphaella named it when she took command,” Khiershon asked. “And where the hell did she learn to captain a vessel to begin with?" "My guess is the Serenian and Oceanian women are running the ship with Raphie as the titular captain,” Iyan answered. “You know she wouldn't just be a member of the crew." "With her ego? Not likely,” Khiershon agreed with him. "Serenian StarRaider, this is theDarkWind . Do you copy?” Bryan said. She tried again then twice more but the StarRaider did not acknowledge the hail. "You know,” Caitlin said as she came onto the bridge, “she could just be ignoring you, Reaper. She wouldn't want to take the chance you would order her back to Corinth." "That's true,” Iyan said. “And very likely the case." "Open the channel,” Khiershon ordered. “She may not reply, but she'll be able to hear me chewing her ass out." "Let it go,” Caitlin advised. “She's going to do what she's going to do whether you yell at her or not and we don't want any passing ships aware there are men onboard theDarkWind ." Iyan gave his best friend's wife an admiring look. “She's right, Khier." "So I'm just to ignore the fact she disobeyed a direct order?” the Reaper snapped. "I think it best,” Caitlin said, running her hand across his upper back in a soothing motion. "She disobeyed me,” Khiershon complained. "Aye, but technically she's not a member of your crew so she's not under your command,” Caitlin reminded him. "She disobeyed me,” he repeated. "Let it go, Reaper,” she said, patting his shoulder. She met Iyan's direct gaze and winked.

Iyan turned away. He didn't want Khiershon to see him grin. "If she can hear us, that means theAlluvia can, too,” Bryan said. “Want me to try raising the Amazeen ship?" "TheAlluvia ?” Caitlin asked, frowning. “Wasn't that the ship that challenged us over by Montyne Vex?" "By the gods, she's right! I'd forgotten about it until she mentioned it,” Iyan said. “They'll know we've retrofitted theOrion !" "And wonder why,” Khiershon added. "They think we're lesbians,” Caitlin reminded Iyan. “And they know we are Terrans." "But with a crew from other planets if I remember correctly,” Iyan put in. “They have to be wondering what we're doing on this side of the wormhole now." For a long time no one on the bridge of theDarkWind spoke. Dax was tracking the path of theAlluvia carefully. Hesar and Bryan were monitoring its communications system. "Open the channel to theAlluvia ,” Caitlin said, “and direct the vid-com only on me." "Why?” Iyan asked. "Humor me,” Caitlin said and nodded to Helen. "It's open,” Bryan said. "Greetings, theAlluvia !” Caitlin called out. “Fancy meeting you out here in the wilds of space. How's it hanging, girls?" Khiershon winced and Iyan frowned. The face that materialized on the vid-com was not smiling. “I am Major Akkadia Kahmal of the LRC the Alluvia . To whom am I conversing?" "I guess you and I didn't meet before over by the Vex,” Caitlin said with a grin. “I'm Captain Cait Kelly formerly of the United Space Alliance Medivac Command. Where's that gorgeous Captain Chakai?" A deep scowl passed over the Amazeen's face. “You are the Terrans as I remember." "Aye, we are. Is the good Captain Chakai still with you or was that delicious lady promoted?" "Captain Chakai passed on into the arms of the Gatherer,” the Amazeen Major informed her. “Why do you seek her?" "The Gatherer?" Major Kahmal rolled her eyes. “She died, Terran."

Caitlin shrugged. “That's too bad. I just thought she and I hit it off, you know?” She broke out into a wide grin. “How ‘bout you? Do you want to swing my way, Major?" It took a moment for the Amazeen to understand what had been asked and when the meaning hit her, her lovely face turned hard as rock. “I am not one of your kind!" "What a shame,” Caitlin said. “We're enjoying ourselves over on this side of that anomaly. Glad you showed it to us." The Amazeen was unsuccessful at hiding her dismay. “Glad to have been of assistance,” she bit out. “Does your command know you entered the anomaly?" Caitlin winked. “No way, baby! We're boldly going where no Terran has before and loving every minute of it! Boy, will we have a tale to tell when we get back to base!" "I see,” the Amazeen said, lips pursed. “What is it you plan to do while you are visiting our part of the megaverse, Captain?” Her gaze narrowed. “How is it possible for you to refuel on this side of the anomaly?" "Oh, we've discovered all kinds of wonderful new friends who have been ever so helpful. We were told about a shindig going on in some place called Rysalia Prime. Have you been there? It's a planet with nothing but women! Can you dig it? There's going to be some kind of rip-roaring party over there in a few days. Some of our new friends from Oceania souped up our ship so we could make the journey in style. We gave our vessel a new name, theDarkWind . How cool is that? How ‘bout we meet up with you and your crew and...." "We are not interested!” the Amazeen snarled. "Oh,” Caitlin said. “Come on. You look like my kind of woman. I...." The transmission between the two ships was terminated just that quickly and Caitlin was staring at a blank screen. "Depraved woman,” Iyan chuckled, shaking his head. “Your boldness never fails to amaze me, Caitlin." Khiershon was staring at his lady as though he'd never seen her before. When she turned toward him, batted her eyes, and puckered her lips in an air kiss, he couldn't hold in the laughter that exploded from his lips. He reached out and dragged her into his lap, pinning her there within the safety of his arms. “If I didn't have such a feeling of dread, wench, I'd kiss you,” he told her. "Dread?” she repeated. “From what?" "I don't know,” he answered. “It's been there since I came on the bridge this morn and I can't seem to shake it." "TheAlluvia is streaking across the heavens just as fast as their engines can blast them,” Dax said. “The StarRaider is right behind it like a bat outta the Abyss." "Raphie would have recognized your voice, Cait,” Khiershon said. “Let's hope she doesn't give away your performance.” He shifted once more, the niggling feeling prodding him. During the time Caitlin was conversing with the Amazeen Major, his uneasiness had grown.

"She won't,” Caitlin said. “She values your life too much and she'll know we were simply bearding the lioness in her den lest the Major wonder what we're doing out here with a supercharged vessel full of Terran women." **** Khiershon was still uneasy as afternoon stretched into evening. He had the strangest feeling all was not right on the Amazeen ship, theAlluvia . He knew there was a Reaper onboard the ship, but he had sensed no pain or sorrow coming from the ship while Caitlin was conversing with the Major. Had it been a Reaper cadet he knew on the Amazeen ship being transported to Rysalia Prime as a prisoner, he would have been able to home in on that one's presence. He didn't believe there was a Reaper cadet alive with whom he had not shared blood but obviously there was. Closing his eyes, he tried to send his mind out into the cosmos in search of the presence he felt on the Amazeen ship but theAlluvia was too far away and the emanations far too weak to register. Yet the uneasiness persisted. "Damn,” he spat and opened his eyes, unnerved by what he wasn't able to understand or reason out. He gave up and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather uniform britches, hunched his shoulders, and headed for the lounge where everyone would be gathering within the hour to go over the plans for rescuing his bloodkin. Iyan glanced up and took note of the heavy frown on his friend's face. He knew Khiershon better than anyone and a look like that generally boded ill for whoever had caused it. The Reaper was moody at best and downright dangerous when he bore such a hard, sharp expression. Khiershon threw his leg over the back of the chair beside Iyan and sat down, his brow furrowed. He picked up a straw lying on the table top and began twisting it between his fingers. "Should I be concerned with whatever it is that is plaguing you?” Iyan asked quietly. "There is something about the male on that Amazeen ship,” Khiershon said. “It worries me." "We scanned the ship the first time we came into contact with theAlluvia and there was no male onboard,” Caitlin said. She had been sitting with Iyan, waiting for her husband. "That in itself isn't strange,” Iyan said. “They could have swung by Amazeen and picked him up on their way back. If he's a Reaper, we know where they're heading with him." "Remember the LRC that was fast approaching the wormhole right behind us when we left the Vex?” Khiershon asked. "Vaguely,” Iyan answered. "They were burning a Reaper,” Khiershon said. “I felt it." "And you wouldn't allow us to blow the ship apart for that reason,” Iyan remembered. "Could that have been theAlluvia ?” Khiershon asked. Iyan and Caitlin exchanged a look. “Possibly,” Iyan replied. “We haven't encountered any other Amazeen ships."

"What's bothering you, milord?” Caitlin asked. "If the male on the Amazeen ship is a Reaper cadet, I don't believe I know him,” Khiershon said. “I thought at first it might be Sajin, the next to the youngest of my bloodsire's offspring, but now I'm convinced it isn't Sajin. We passed a Reaper being tortured. I felt his pain. If he is the one who is now on theAlluvia why didn't I feel his pain when you were speaking to the Major?" "This may be another cadet entirely,” Caitlin said. "Something tells me he's the same one,” Khiershon stated. "Then perhaps he is unconscious,” Iyan suggested. "That's what I'm afraid of,” Khiershon said. “He could be near death already. It's obvious they are headed for Rysalia Prime so they would be taking him to his execution." "Would Raphie have known this Major Kahmal on Amazeen?” Caitlin asked. “Could they have been friends on Amazeen?" "Doubtful,” Khiershon said. “She didn't have friends. The only females with whom she associated were.... “He stopped, his eyes widening. "What?” Iyan asked. "She was to have become the next Domestic Queen,” Khiershon said. “There were only three other women—all daughters of the Defense Queen—that Raphaella deigned to associate with and one of them was named Akkadia." "That's a common enough Amazeen name, Khier,” Iyan reminded him. "Aye but if memory serves, the Defense Queen was named Melanippe Kahmal!" "Kahmal is the name of the Major on theAlluvia ,” Caitlin said. "But surely Kahmal is sworn to bring Raphaella to justice for helping you to escape,” Iyan said. "Not necessarily,” Khiershon disagreed. “I always thought she must have had inside help in aiding me to escape Amazeen. What if that help was Akkadia Kahmal?" "You may be right. Hell, she was even bragging to Kahmal!" "If they were friends...” Caitlin began. "She had no friends, I tell you!” Khiershon said. “I would have known!" "All right,” Caitlin said, taking his word for it. “Then either one of two things is happening here.” She held up her thumb. “The two of them came to some kind of understanding and the Major isn't going to hold Raphie accountable for setting you loose or.... “She held up her index finger. “The Major is leading Raphie to her death on Rysalia Prime." "With an unconscious Reaper cadet in tow,” Khiershon said, his face as stony as granite. “We've lost

dozens of Reapers already to the Multitude's fires. I've no intention of losing even one more!" "Khier, other than you, the only cadet not accounted for is Sajin. If you're correct, it is most likely him on the Amazeen ship,” Iyan stated. "The only cadet we know about,” Khiershon corrected. “What if there are more that wedon't know about? We need to liberate him before they can turn him over to the Multitude and question him to see if there are more cadets out there somewhere." "And alert the Amazeen that you have a ship of men being masked as women on their scanners?” Caitlin asked. “You might as well signal on ahead to Rysalia Prime that we're coming to the Reapers’ rescue." "She's right,” Iyan said. “I don't see any way to snatch the lone male off theAlluvia without giving ourselves away." "Then he'll have to stay where he is and we'll add him to our pickup list,” Caitlin said. “Isn't that what we're doing here tonight? Cementing our plans for snatching your bloodkin from their doom?" Khiershon nodded. He was still troubled, his nerves on edge, but he saw no way to help the male on the Amazeen ship. He'd do everything he could to save the man but if it came down to saving one man or ten, one would have to be sacrificed. He just prayed it didn't come to that. "I know you're worried,” Caitlin said, reaching out to cover her husband's hand where it rested on the table. “Try not to let it get to you." The Reaper nodded. “There's also Raphie,” he said. “If Major Kahmal is leading her to her doom...." "Stop borrowing trouble, Khier,” Iyan told him. “Let's get the plan down first before we veer off on any tangents." "All right,” Khiershon said. He looked around and realized his entire team had gathered in the lounge. Only Dax—who was in control of the ship—was missing. “Take a seat and let's go through this all again. Has anyone thought of any potential problems we need to deal with first?"

Chapter Seven Raphaella had, indeed, recognized Caitlin's voice, but she had not found the Terran woman's antics amusing. What she had learned from the crew of theAlluvia had brought things home forcibly to her that this was not going to be a walk beside the lake they were undertaking. There was exacting danger aligned against them all. For the first time in her life, the Amazeen woman felt fear. Not for herself but for the man she loved. That he was with another woman only deepened Raphaella's fear for his wellbeing. She wouldn't be near him to protect him. "Considering what we learned from Major Kahmal should we not inform them who is on theDarkWind ?” Maeve Lynne McGregor asked Raphaella. "No, I think not. It is best not to worry the Prime Reaper. He has enough on his mind as it is." "He became very quiet when you told him you are Khiershon's mate,” McGregor said. “I'm not sure that was wise on your part to lie to him, Raphie."

Raphaella thought back to the odd look the Prime Reaper had given her. Had he been able to read her mind? Khiershon always could but then Khiershon had taken a drop of her blood. Did the Prime know she had not been completely honest? If Khiershon was adept at reading thoughts, how much more powerful would his bloodsire be? Would he need her blood in order to read her? "I don't think either Reaper was aware of the other,” Raphaella said. “If Khiershon knew there was a Reaper on theAlluvia , he wouldn't have refrained from contacting him. Likewise if the Prime knew one of his bloodsons was near he would have hailed him." "Perhaps not,” McGregor said. “Perhaps they know but both are being cautious, fearful of having some other ship intercept their transmission." "Maybe,” Raphaella said. "We should at least inform Khiershon and his crew what is happening,” McGregor declared. “If both he and Kahmal try to snatch the cadets at the same time, the men could be torn apart in the effort. He needs to know his bloodsire in on theAlluvia and that he is planning on turning himself over to the Daughters." "Aye, now see therein lies the problem!” Raphaella said. “If I tell Khiershon his bloodsire is planning on allowing the Multitude to throw him into prison, Khier will snatch the Prime Reaper off theAlluvia and there will be hell to pay. The Daughters know Kahmal is on her way to Rysalia Prime with their most wanted man. Don't think for a moment they won't throw everything they have at Khiershon to get his bloodsire back! They want the Prime more than any other Reaper. It is too dangerous for Khiershon and your brother, Iyan!" Maeve Lynne McGregor drew in a long, ragged breath. “Aye, I agree it will be dangerous but if both ships attempt to retrieve the cadets..." "We have to make sure Khiershon's attempt to transport the cadets to theDarkWind fails,” Raphaella interrupted. "How do we do that?" "We block his transport signal. I brought the schematics for the new system they installed on the DarkWind with us when we left Corinth. We've engineers on board that can jam Khier's retrieval beams,” Raphaella explained. “Once they realize the cadets have been picked up by theAlluvia and the Alluvia is speeding away, we can tell Khier about his bloodsire." "Then what?" "We transport everyone from theDarkWind to our ship and we get the hell out of Rysalia Prime airspace, blowing up anything that tries to get in our way or comes after us." "What about theDarkWind ?” McGregor asked. “Do we just ditch it?" Raphaella shrugged. “Why not? It's just a Terran ship." "A Terran ship our men retrofitted to be a powerful warcruiser,” McGregor said. “Have you forgotten my people are still being hounded by the Rysalians?"

"I haven't forgotten, Maeve Lynne, but in the grand scheme of things that is of less importance than making sure we save the lives of Khiershon's bloodkin. Your brother would agree on that point." Maeve Lynne McGregor figured her brother Iyan would have something to say about discarding a perfectly good ship and even more to say to her for being a party to Raphaella's plan. Having women in battle wasn't her brother's way and although he was many years older than her, she thought she knew him pretty well. He'd want to take the ship back to Corinth in case it was ever needed. "Stop worrying, Maeve Lynne,” Raphaella said. “I've got things well under control." McGregor watched the Amazeen stride away and not for the first time thought Raphaella had to be the most arrogant woman she'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. Not one female among the Serenians and Oceanian liked the Amazeen and few trusted her. Her single minded pursuit of Khiershon Cree was disquieting—especially now that the Reaper was legally Joined to Caitlin, a woman much admired among the rebels at Corinth. If it had not been for the fact that Khiershon had aboard theDarkWind many of their beloved menfolk, no Serenian or Oceanian woman would have agreed to crew the StarRaider for Raphaella. Few had agreed with the Amazeen when she'd first broached the subject of taking the vessel but Raphaella's barrage of insults and questioning of their courage had overridden good sense. "Khier's going to beat her black and blue when he catches her,” Cadyna Wynth, the Oceanian navigator of the ship Raphaella had christened theAilith , remarked to McGregor. "I hope we all live long enough for him to do just that,” McGregor said, her jaw tight for she could almost feel Iyan's broad palm being applied to her own rear end. **** Kamerone Cree was intently staring at Aegean's monitor, watching the StarRaider that was following the Alluvia. He was uneasy, had been for some time, and thinking back on it, realized that discomfort had began while he was speaking with the one named Raphaella. Instead of fading, the feeling was growing. Whatever was causing his restlessness concerned him. "What's bothering you, Reaper?” Kahmal asked him as she swiveled her command chair around to face him. "The woman was lying,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “Why would she lie about being the mate of a Reaper?" "She knows Khiershon,” Kahmal said. “I can verify that." "And you didn't want me to know she was in contact with my bloodson?” Cree asked around a tight jaw. "I wanted to forestall any potential problem, Reaper, until everything was out in the open. Raphie has deep feelings for Khiershon Cree." "I've no doubt she does,” Cree said. “It is her falsehood about being his woman that disturbs me." "It is a well known fact he took her maidenhead, that they became lovers,” Kahmal said. “And she did help him to escape Amazeen. That, too, is true." Cree frowned. “How is it possible he had sex with her but she is not his mate?” he questioned. “Reapers

mate only once in their life." "How do you know she isn't his mate?" "Because the face of another woman shifted through her mind's eye when she proclaimed herself Khiershon Cree's mate,” he answered. “The image was too quick for me to get a good look at it but the woman's face seemed familiar." Kahmal braced her elbows on her chair arms and steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “What do you know of Khiershon Cree?" "He is one of the many seedlings taken from me and planted in Terran women,” he replied. “Beyond that, I know nothing of him. I've never laid eyes on any of my bloodsons." "Do you know Khiershon is the bloodson who was reported killed in a crash landing on Amazeen when he was a child?" Cree nodded. “I remember it being mentioned in passing but back then such things meant nothing to me." "He would be your eldest, would he not?" "I believe so.” He glanced at her. “What do you know of his time on Amazeen?" "It was not an easy passing,” she answered truthfully. “That much I know and he was much feared. He had been kept so his seed could impregnate a new race of warrior women but we soon discovered that could not happen." "The parasite within us destroys all female zygotes,” Cree said. "So we learned. There were those who voted to eliminate him but before that could happen he used his mental powers to entrap Raphaella and she helped him to escape. Her whereabouts were unknown until this morning. His?” She shrugged. “He was arrested and taken to the Vex for questioning and subsequent execution." Cree shuddered. “It was his presence I felt when I became aware in the containment cell there. A Reaper had been tortured in that cell and not too long before we landed." "Aye, but there was no sign of him on the Vex or the Amazeen who had taken him there,” Kahmal said. “We suspect it was a Terran ship that rescued him and.... “She stopped, her eyes going wide. Kamerone slowly turned to look at her. “He is on the ship that scanned us as we were speaking to the one who claims to be his mate,” he said. "But that ship contained nothing but women,” Kahmal stated. “We scanned it when it began scanning us." "Remember the captain of the Terran ship saying they'd been souped up?” Tyrian inquired. “That's what Zainabu's brother did for them. They are registering as all women but we know there is at least one male on board!"

"He's on that ship,” Cree said. “I know it as surely as I am standing here." "Why did he not challenge us, then?” Kahmal asked. “He had to have discovered your presence onboard." "Because I wager he's one among many men on that ship and he didn't want you to know that,” the Reaper said. “My guess is he's on his way to Rysalia Prime to attempt the same thing we are." "Then we should contact him,” Sern said from her position at the navigational monitor. "To make any ship within monitoring distance aware of him and his crew?” Cree asked, shaking his head. “No, that would not be a wise thing to do." "And we're being monitored,” Deon said, bringing eyes to her. “There's an Amazeen ship shadowing us about five clicks to the starboard." "Do you know whose?” Kahmal asked. "It's theAreto ,” Deon said quietly. Kahmal cursed. “Tecmessa Sorn,” she said. “What the hell is she doing tracking us?" "I take it she's not a bosom buddy of yours,” Cree remarked. "She's a bitch. Her ship's name is translated to meanunspeakable and she hates men more than any Amazeen I've ever known. She has a sister who worked in the Rysalian Behaviors Modification Units,” Kahmal replied. "Delyn Sorn?” Cree asked. "Aye, Delyn. She, too, is a bitch of the first order. Do you know of her?" "I had a session with the woman, aye,” Cree said, a muscle working in his lean jaw. "I'll wager Delyn is on Tecmessa's ship. I've heard it said they are closer than sisters should be if you get my meaning." "Aye, well incest is best when you keep it in the family,” Deon quipped. "Should we acknowledge her trailing us?” Sern asked. "Every Amazeen ship out there knows who we are and who we are bringing to Rysalia Prime,” Kahmal said. “No, I don't care to let that degenerate know I even give her a second thought." "She's been trying to probe us, but I've been running a blanket suppression of all conversation on the Alluvia as a matter of course,” Deon told Kahmal. “No one can pick up what is being said by us." Cree swung his attention to Deon. “CouldThe Areto have picked up our transmission to the Starcruiser?" "TheAreto wasn't showing up on my screen at that time, but it could have."

"Sorn would know all about Raphaella,” Kahmal said. “If theAreto did pick up the transmission, Sorn will know exactly where the StarRaider is heading and have alerted the Fleet on a secure channel." "Then I suggest you hail theAreto and test the waters, ‘Kadia,” Cree said. “Make sure you broadcast on a frequency the StarRaider can pick up. They need to know if they have been found out." "By the goddess I hate to speak with Sorn,” Kahmal admitted. “I always feel like I need to shower afterwards.” She sighed. “But you're right. We should be aware if Sorn knows about the StarRaider." "My head is killing me,” Cree said. “I'm going to sick bay to get an extra dose of Triso." She waited until Cree had left the bridge then nodded at Deon to open a channel. "LRC theAreto , this is the LRC theAlluvia ,” Deon hailed the other ship. "Greetings, Kahmal!” The harsh face of a rail-thin woman showed on the vid-com. “I gather congratulations are in order on your promotion to captain of theAlluvia ." Kahmal's hands were tightly clutching the arms of her command chair. “Captain Chakai has gone on to her reward, aye. Thank you, Captain Sorn." "So you have the Prime onboard,” Sorn said. “You are doubly blessed that you were able to follow through on your mission." "Aye, we have him,” Kahmal agreed. "As soon as I heard you were nearing Rysalia Prime, I wanted to be among your escorts. We want nothing to prevent Kamerone Cree from being executed this time." "There are many ships headed for Rysalia Prime,” Kahmal acknowledged. “Even a Terran vessel. Have you word of it?" Sorn waved a dismissive hand. “We scanned them but there is nothing there of interest to us though I would like to question them on how they found the wormhole." "I believe they followed us through it,” Kahmal admitted with a bored shrug. "You should be more careful, Kahmal,” Sorn insulted her. “Once the Terrans land, it will be necessary to impound their ship so they do not return through the anomaly to reveal what they've learned of our worlds." "I agree,” Kahmal said. “We need no more visitors showing up unannounced." "We are of a like mind in that regard,” Sorn said. “Who knew the simpleminded Terrans were capable of making their way to us?" "Any more vessels nearby I should be concerned with?” Kahmal asked, digging her fingernails into the chair arms. "There is a Serenian StarRaider but it is manned with brainless women who know nothing of how to

operate such a fine machine. In trying to converse with us, their com array kept jamming the signal, losing it, the transmission garbled. Such stupidity should not be allowed to thrive in this galaxy." "I take it they pose no problem for us?" "Certainly not,” Sorn said and then laughed. “There again, once they have docked, we will confiscate the StarRaider. I will ask that it be handed over to me. That is if they do not crash the vessel in their attempt to dock!" "Then I'll be sure to stay well out of their way as well as that of the Terrans." "We will be guarding your back, Kahmal,” Sorn pronounced. “You can rest assured you will not meet with any opposition as you take the Prime Reaper to meet his fate!" "It is good to know we have such a conscientious shadow following in our wake,” Kahmal said, her eyes hard. Sorn lifted her head. “You have nothing to fear, Kahmal. I will keep you safe." Kahmal shook herself as the transmission ended. She felt as though something slimy had crawled down her back. She was still sitting there when the Reaper returned. Cree sat down in the First Officers seat beside Kahmal. “I did not sense any duplicity in her,” he said, rubbing at his temple. “Did you, ‘Lia?" Sern looked around. “No, all I got was her hatred of the Major." "And a dark desire to be rid of her,” Cree warned. "Nothing new there,” Kahmal quipped. “I've always known Sorn wished me dead." "You were right about her sister,” Cree said. “Delyn Sorn is on the ship.” His fist opened and closed on his thigh. “She is looking forward to questioning the cadets when she arrives back on Rysalia Prime." "To torturing them, you mean,” Dorrie spoke up. “I remember Sorn and what she did to you, Kam." Cree's eyes turned as cold as the snows on the crest of the Serenian Alps. “I haven't forgotten." "There isn't a single female on theAreto who doesn't pose a threat to you and your bloodkin, Reaper,” Sern told him. “You can be sure they will follow us when we extract the cadets." "And they will die in the pursuit,” Kahmal stated. “It will give me great pleasure to blow them out of the sky and rid the world of their stench." Cree looked at the Amazeen Major with a one brow crooked at her bloodthirsty attitude. “It wouldn't hurt my feelings if Delyn Sorn had every bone in her body broken before she meets her end,” he said. "What possible reason could she have to question the cadets?” Dorrie asked. “Surely she knows she'll get nothing from them." "It has nothing to do with what she can learn. She just likes hurting men,” Kahmal said. “What other

reason does she need?" "Do you think Raphaella heard the transmission between us?” Chanz asked. "The channel was open,” Deon said. “She heard and so did theDarkWind . I noticed their scan of us a second time." "Looking for the Prime,” Kahmal said with a grin. "But they didn't find him,” Deon said. Cree's lips twisted with mirth. “Oh, he found me. I made sure of it. He just doesn't know what to do now that he has."

Chapter Eight Khiershon was stunned. “The Prime Reaper?” he repeated. “It is my bloodsire they have on theAlluvia ! He let me sense him." "How can that be?” Iyan questioned. “He fled to Terra. He was safe there!" "Obviously the Amazeens went after him and have brought him back for execution,” Khiershon said, his eyes troubled. "Or they're taking him to Rysalia Prime to rescue his bloodkin,” Caitlin suggested. "It was him being tortured,” Khiershon whispered, running a hand over his face. “It had to be. No wonder I felt it so keenly. I have his blood flowing in my veins. I have one of his fledglings inside me." Caitlin could not stop the shiver that rippled through her when her husband mentioned the parasite his body hosted. "Those women were torturing my bloodsire,” Khiershon continued. “By the gods they'll pay for that!" "If that's the case, why would they be helping him now?” Iyan asked. "If theyare helping him,” Dax put in. "Chakai was their captain when we first made contact with that ship. She's dead. If this Major was in league with Raphaella in helping you to escape, perhaps she's doing the same with your bloodsire,” Caitlin said. “With Chakai out of the way, Kahmal would be free to lend her aid." "And convinced her crew to go along?” Khiershon asked. He shook his head. “That's too much to hope for." "How many women on theOrion did you visit in their dreams, Reaper?” Caitlin countered. “My crew was half in love with you before you ever said a word to them. Wouldn't your bloodsire have done the same?" Iyan stared at a blushing Khiershon. “She has a point, Khier."

"Man, was that a dream!” Helen Lutz said with a sigh. “We'd have done anything for him." "That's more than likely what took place on theAlluvia ,” Caitlin said. "This is getting far more complicated than we anticipated,” Iyan said. “We've got two Amazeen ships headed for Rysalia Prime, Raphaella chugging along behind them as though she were out for a late afternoon stroll. What if it is theAlluvia's intent to try to snatch the cadets? If we're trying the same thing at the same moment, those men will be ripped apart by the retrieval beams, torn in two different directions." "And we can't just ask what theAlluvia's intentions are,” Caitlin put in. "I need to speak with my bloodsire,” Khiershon said. "How?” Iyan demanded. “We can't risk it with that other Amazeen ship shadowing theAlluvia ." "Get this ship closer to theAlluvia ,” Khiershon ordered. “I will at least be able to communicate telepathically with him. He will be expecting it." "I see one problem with that, milord,” Caitlin said and when he looked at her, she told him he ran the risk of any psychically enhanced humanoid overhearing the conversation. "What are the odds of such an individual being close by?” he asked. "I can't answer that, Khier,” Caitlin said, “but do you really want to take the chance?" "Can you scan the ship first?” Dax inquired. "Aye, I can,” Khiershon said. "If you don't find a sensitive on board, can you at least communicate on a level no other psychic can intercept in case one is hiding beneath your scan?” Iyan asked. "In a language only you and your bloodsire can understand, perhaps?” Dax added. "Chalean High Speech,” Khiershon said. “I doubt there are any Amazeens who speak the dialect. Other than Reapers, it isn't used much anymore." "It's worth a try,” Caitlin said. "Get us close to theAlluvia ,” Khiershon commanded. “I must seek my bloodsire's counsel." **** "That pesky Terran ship is fast approaching,” Sern told Kahmal. "What do they want now?” the Amazeen Major snapped. Sern chuckled, “It just sped across the Areto's bow." "You should hear what Sorn yelled at it,” Deon said. “That certainly wasn't ladylike."

"Sorn isn't a lady. She's a shemale,” Kahmal muttered. "Tyrian, go tell the Reaper to stay in the lounge. Deon, open a channel to those imbeciles,” Kahmal ordered. "Terran ship, theDarkWind . This is the LRC theAlluvia ,” Deon announced. “Our captain would like a word with you." An annoyed face popped up on theAlluvia's vid-screen. "I hope it isn't in the same tone of voice your companion ship tossed at us,” Caitlin said, a pout pursing her lips. “Personally, I don't like being called a slut by anyone." "You ran across theAreto's bow,” Kahmal said. “That was a foolish thing to do." Caitlin shrugged. “Such is life, but I am not a slut." "Why did you do such a thing?” the Major asked, knowing full well Sorn was intercepting the communication. "It was the quickest way to get behind you,” Caitlin responded. "Why?" "We wanted to trail along with you, sweetie,” Caitlin said, smiling broadly. “You are ever so much friendlier than that other ship." Khiershon was standing in the captain's quarters of theDarkWind , his eyes closed, concentrating on contacting the man who had fathered him."I am Khiershon, bloodson of the Prime," he said."I send greetings to my bloodsire." Cirolia Sern sat back in her chair, her heart thudding in her chest. She could feel the emanations coming from the Terran vessel and now knew there was a Reaper onboard theDarkWind . She tuned out the inane conversation between Kahmal and the Terran captain and listened to the Reapers talking to one another although she did not understand the language they were speaking. "I am here, Khiershon." "You are safe, milord?"Khiershon asked. "I am." "Are you being held against your will?" "I am here against my will, but I am not a prisoner on this ship,"Kamerone Cree replied."These women are aiding me." "I am relieved to hear it. It is an honor to speak with you sir,"Khiershon stated. "I am grateful we were given the chance. You journey in the same direction we are taking?"Cree

inquired. "Aye and for the same reason I believe." "It is good we made contact then." "What would you have me do, milord?"Khiershon queried."How may I serve your needs?" "All I ask is that you do not interfere with what I have planned." "You have my word. I will be watching your back,"Khiershon vowed as images of what his bloodsire intended to do flowed across his mind. "You won't be alone,"Cree said. Khiershon sighed deeply."Aye, milord. I know. Raphaella thinks she is protecting me." "Hers is not the only vessel that will be guarding us. A Necromanian prince is captaining a cloaked ship and will be at our backs. I have swept your ship as well as hers and the other Amazeen ship." "I swept yours and sense only one other psychic among your crews." "A friend and ally,"Kamerone Cree acknowledged."She poses no threat to us and I doubt she understands Chalean High Speech." "That is good to know,” Khiershon said. "It is safe for you to send a subliminal to the one who calls herself your mate. Keep her away from Rysalia Prime and out of mischief. She knows I am aware of her and she knows what I have planned." Khiershon winced."And still she persists on getting involved?" "She is your problem, Khiershon. Deal with her." Sern felt the end to the conversation between the two Reapers. She could imagine Cree sitting in the lounge, a hard gleam in his amber eyes for she could sense his disquiet. Running a hand over her face, she realized she was sweating. Whatever had disturbed the Prime Reaper was giving her pause. **** Raphaella felt the mental push of Khiershon's voice and slammed her hands over her ears. She did not want to hear what the Reaper had to say to her. Trilling her tongue to try to block out his words, she was driven to her knees when his psychic shout reverberated through her mind. "Enough!” she cried out. "Stay away from the Titaness, Raphaella,"Khiershon snapped at her."You know his plan and he is not to be thwarted." "I wasn't going to interfere with him. I was going to block your retrieval beam so the two of you

weren't aiming at the same man at the same time and tear him apart during the retrieval,"she complained and took one hand from her head and was shocked to see a trace of blood in her palm. It was hard communicating in this way with the Reaper. "You would have kept all knowledge of my bloodsire's closeness from me and mine from him!" Khiershon accused."Where is your head, woman?" "I didn't want either of you to worry,"Raphaella complained. "I will be guarding my bloodsire. You keep out of this!" Raphaella sensed him pulling free of her mind and stomped her foot in anger. How dare he give her orders when it was his life she was attempting to keep from harm's way? **** Dorrie put a hand on Cree's shoulder. “Well, what's he like?" Cree shook his head. “I won't know until I stand face to face with him." "It should be a relief to you that one of your bloodkin is safe from Multitude hands and in charge of his own destiny." "He would have attempted to extract the cadets,” Cree said. “The Daughters would have gone after him with everything they have and he might not have survived." "Just goes to show what kind of man he is,” Dorrie said. "Aye,” Cree agreed on a long sigh. “He is a brave man." "Like father, like son,” Dorrie repeated what Raphaella had said. Cree looked down at his hands and was stunned to find them shaking. It wasn't fear. He rarely felt that debilitating emotion and even when he did experience it, it wasn't for himself. "Is that the first time you've ever spoken to one of your bloodsons?” Dorrie asked softly. "Aye,” he said. “My heart was thundering in my chest, Dorrie." "More than likely his was, too,” she told him. He cocked his head to one side. “But I felt no anger,” he said. “There was no desire to do harm to him.” He looked at Dorrie. “I had no urge to fight with him. He showed only respect toward me. There was no hint of anger in him, only what I perceived to be admiration." "So the alpha wolf in you didn't feel like marking his territory and subduing the young pup?” she questioned. "No,” he said and his face was filled with surprise. “I felt no such need." "Did you have thoughts like that about Jaelin?” she queried. “A need to assert yourself over him?"

The Prime Reaper thought about that and slowly shook his head. “No, I did not, but I wasn't willing to take a risk with his little life." "When we get home to Terra,” she said, “you can introduce your eldest to your youngest. Won't that be something?" A smile hovered on the Reaper's chiseled lips. “Aye,” he said so quietly it was but a breath of sound. “The gods willing I hope to do just that." Part Two

Chapter Nine Tylan Kahn was nervous as theVortex readied for its landing on Montyne Vex. He didn't know what was causing his uneasiness but it sat between his shoulders like a heavy, cold, soggy blanket. He shifted his body against the apprehension and turned to Tealson Hesar. “Are you scanning this planet?" Hesar nodded. “I'm getting a faint life sign from inside one of the caves. Whoever it is is dying." "'We can not hold mortality's strong hand',” the cybot who was rolling past spoke. "Shut the fuck up, ‘bot!” Kahn snapped. "'You do ill to teach the child such words',” Troi said with a sniff. "I'll teach you something with the toe of my boot if you don't shut up!” Kahn shouted. "'I'll note you in my book of memory'.” Troi mumbled. "Aye, you do that,” Kahn grumbled. “You worthless piece of shit." The men who had accompanied Kahn from Terra all looked toward the former Admiral of the Rysalian Fleet, but Kahn ignored them. Most were fond of the cybot the Prime Reaper had programmed long ago with the words from a famous Terran playwright. Only Kahn seemed irritated by the artificial intelligence unit's prattling. "What kind of life sign are you reading?” Kahn asked. "Female." "An Amazeen?” Lares Taborn questioned. "I can't tell that,” Hesar replied. "Any ships on the Vex?” Kahn asked. "'Ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be ... ‘" "Not another word, Troi,” Kahn warned. “Not one!" "'Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me',” Troi said on a long sigh.

"Someone shut that gods-be-damned thing down!” Kahn shouted. “Now!" "'I must have liberty withal, as large a charter as the wind, to blow on whom I please',” Troi said as he rolled quickly away. "No ships, Sir,” Hesar answered as his fingers flew over the keys to put the cybot into hibernation mode. "'O, how full of briers is this working-day world!'” Troi put in before powering down. "Should we check on the woman?” Hern Belvoir asked, trying not to laugh. "Aye, we'll check,” Kahn said, concerned with the sour feeling in his gut. He looked at his navigator. “Land us near the fueling compound first." "Whereis the fueling compound on the Vex?” Raine McGregor asked. "If it is still here,” Paegan Thorne replied, “it will be just beyond the largest plateau. It was well-hidden and can only be accessed by a Rysalian password." "Which is?” Lares demanded. Paegan turned to Kahn. “Sir, do you remember what it is?" Kahn jerked his head around, his eyes flaring. “How the hell would I know? I had never ventured past Diabolusia before we fled to Terra!" "Trystáisiún breosla ,” Alexi Noll spoke up, spelling the words. Noll had been the ranking Keeper on Kamerone Cree's ship and had made the trek to Terra many times. “Unless they've changed it since we left that was what it was when we'd refuel here on the way to Terra. Each Reaper had his own personal code for the station. That was Cree's." "And how do I access whatever I need to access that password, Noll?” McGregor growled. Noll grinned. “Allow me, Your Highness,” the ex-Keeper said and his fingers flew over the console. “There it is!" On the vid-screen, the men saw a large hatchway opening up ahead of them. As the hatch moved, black sand cascaded from the titanium surface of the two flanged portals and a tall kiosk rose up from the opening. "Let's hope there are still crystals in the kiosk,” Noll commented. Kahn got up from the command chair and began pacing. The apprehension that was burning a hole in his esophagus made him dig his fingernails into his palm. “Lock on to that female life sign. I'll investigate myself." Hesar turned to look at him. This was a Keeper's job—not the commander of the ship. “You don't want Noll or me to go?" "What did I say?” Kahn exploded.

"Aye, aye, Sir!” Hesar said and locked on the feeble signal. “It is in the plateau, Admiral. I can transport it here if you like." "Well, I've no desire to trek into the plateau myself!” Kahn sneered. Taborn and McGregor exchanged a look. The two men were aristocrats, royalty on their own worlds of Necroman and Serenia. They had as much authority as did Kahn on theVortex but it was Kahn who was leading the mission to rescue the Prime Reaper. For the last few hours, Kahn had been barking at everyone—including Taborn and McGregor—and neither man liked it. "Locking on,” Hesar said. A soft blue light pulsed on the transporter pad. When the light faded, a body laid sprawled face-down on the plexiform shield. "Barely alive,” Hesar reported. Kahn made no move toward the body. His heart was thudding so hard in his chest he was having trouble breathing. He could hear it pounding in his ears. Hern Belvoir and Andre Arbra hunkered down beside the body and gently turned the robe-clad body over. "Sweet Merciful Alel,” Belvoir whispered for he recognized the woman lying there. He looked up at Kahn. “It's Dr. Sejm." Kahn nodded. Somehow he'd known it was his surrogate mother and as much as he had always distrusted the Chalean woman, he felt a terrible sadness welling up inside him. She was the only mother he'd ever known and—in her way—she had shown him as much affection as she was capable of showing. She had made sure he had survived the virus that had killed almost the entire male population of Rysalia so in a strange way, she had given him life. Sejm's eyelids fluttered open. She was struggling to drag air into her lungs. When she saw the men standing over her, she whimpered. Kahn motioned Arbra and Belvoir away and he knelt down beside the dying woman. Very gently, he slid his arm under her back and lifted her, hoping to relieve some of the gasping that wracked her body. "Tylan,” she whispered and tried to lift a hand to touch his face, but her strength was rapidly fading. "What ails her, Hesar?” Kahn asked and felt tears gathering in his eyes. "Her body is cannibalizing itself,” Hesar said quietly. “Apparently she has had no food for nearly a week." "Where are the others?” Kahn asked. “Why are you here alone?" A smile tried to tug at Sejm's lips. “Your hero left me here to die,” she said, her voice cracking, barely audible.

"Cree took your ship?" "My ship, my women,” Sejm whispered. “My life." "Where is he?" "On his way to hell, I hope,” Sejm said with her last breath. The air pushed out of her lungs and she lay with her eyes open, staring into whatever fate the goddess had in store for her. Kahn crouched with the body of his surrogate mother in his arms. He felt his heart squeezing in his chest and marveled that he could feel such sadness over a woman who had never really shown him that much affection. She had been an evil woman, full of hatred and spite and revenge. She had caused the death of hundreds of thousands of men. There had been no redeeming qualities about her. "Admiral?” Belvoir questioned. “Do you want to bury her here?" Kahn shook his head. “Not in this barren place,” he said and slid his other arm beneath Sejm's legs. He struggled to his feet, holding her. “We will take her home." Lares Taborn's dark face creased. “Home where, Kahn?" "To Chale,” Kahn replied. “It is on our way." "But why would Cree go on to Rysalia Prime now?” Taborn questioned. “If he has control of the ship, why did he not return to Terra?" "He had his reasons and I imagine they have something to do with his bloodkin,” Kahn said. “I told Bridget we would bring him home and by the gods I will!” He turned with Sejm. “One way or another, I will bring him home!"

Chapter Ten Behind the black marble coping, six graves lay beneath shining black marble slabs. A fresh grave had been carved into the lush green grass that matted the burial plot on the hill ofSeacht Claíomhs . Six names had been chiseled into the black marble stones: Analeis, Ciara, Edana, Leila, Nuala, and Raicheal. One more name would need to be added when the seventh stone slab had been laid over Hael Sejm's grave. "Why did she take the name Sejm?” McGregor asked Kahn. Kahn shrugged. “I never knew. Perhaps it was her mother's maiden name." "That could not be,” Lares Taborn put in. “King Rian Brell was married to Celeste Wynth of the royal house of Oceania. She was the mother of the Seven Sisters of the Sword." "Then I can't begin to guess why she chose the name Sejm. She never Joined with any man I knew of,” Kahn said. He ran a hand over his sweaty face for him—and him, alone—had dug his surrogate mother's grave, refusing the help of the men standing with him. "We'd best be going before someone comes to investigate,” McGregor said. He felt eyes staring at him

and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "They know we're here,” Kahn said softly. “They'll wait until we leave before they come to say theSlán , the final farewell, for the last Daughter of Brell brought home." Taborn swept his hooded dark gaze over the forests surrounding them. He, too, felt eyes watching his every move and it unnerved him. Although Chale was not allied with Rysalia, they were men, and men were not welcome in this most hallowed spot on Chalean soil. "Hesar,” Kahn said, touching the vid-com at his wrist, “transport McGregor and Taborn to the ship." "You must come with us!” Lares insisted. "I will be along shortly,” Kahn said. “Give me a moment alone with her." Though Lares would have protested, McGregor laid a hand on Taborn's shoulder and shook his head, warning the dark man not to interfere. Alone on the emerald hill, Kahn hunkered down and reached out to grab a handful of the rich black soil that was mounded over his surrogate mother's grave. He let the dirt drift through his fingers as he said his ownSlán to Hael Sejm. "You are home, Mother,” he said. “May you find comfort in the arms of your sisters." "May the Wind be always at your back, son of Hael,” a voice drifted with the blessing from the copse behind the cemetery. He hung his head for a moment then got to his feet. “I'm ready, Hesar,” he told the waiting Keeper. As he felt the shift of the retrieval beam passing over him, he wondered what Hael would say to Analeis—Kamerone's mother—when they met in the Shadowlands. As theVortex sped away from the green hills of Chale, Kahn sat in the command chair, his thoughts of Bridget, and the man he had come to think of as a brother. “What the hell are you doing, Cree?” he whispered. “What have you gotten yourself into now?" Part Three

Chapter Eleven The shackles were too tight around the wrists of Kamerone Cree. Binding his arms behind him, the titanium bands were cutting off his circulation and he flexed his fingers, grimacing. "Too tight?” Major Akkadia Kahmal inquired. "Aye, but if you loosen them, someone will think you've been coddling me,” the Prime Reaper replied. "I have been coddling you, Reaper,” Kahmal quipped with a twitch of her lips. “We all have." Cree sighed. “I believe my pampering will be at an end in a few moments." Three months after leaving Terra, the LRCAlluvia had reached its destination and those onboard were

nervous as the craft settled on the visiting official's pad, including the man who had been deemed the most wanted in the megaverse. On the long-range cruiser's wide vid-com screen they saw the image of hundreds of women assembled before the Titaness, the powerful symbol of authority for the Daughters of the Multitude, and it obvious those women were there awaiting the appearance of Major Kahmal's prisoner. "The Prophetess-Mother, Herself, is leading the delegation of Elders,” Lt. Augeania Deon reported. “She is in full ceremonial garb." "By the goddess, she even has the Labrys clutched in her meaty paw,” Lt. Cedilla Tyrian observed. "Who is that woman standing beside her as Auxiliary Prophetess?” Lt. Cirolia Sern inquired. "Isn't that the Chrystallusian scientist, Dr.LeJong Kym?” Lt. Melankhoia Chanz questioned. “The one who developed the virus that killed the men of Rysalia Prime?" Kamerone Cree's eyes narrowed and he turned his attention to the vid-com screen and the face of the woman being discussed. He remembered her well from before the rebellion. She had not inoculated him as she had many others—his father included—thus sparing his life. He owed her a debt of gratitude. “Aye, that's Kym,” he replied. "She's certainly come up in the world,” Dorrie snarled. "Unfortunately over the dead bodies of thousands of men,” Cree said quietly. Melankhoia Chanz put a hand to Cree’ shoulder. “I checked with my sister who is a wardress in the Titaness. I am told there are ten Reapers being held for execution on the Feast a month from now.” She caressed his shoulder. “Four are sons of yours." Cree flinched and briefly shut his eyes. “Your goddess has sworn to me I will be able to take my Reapers and leave this world. I have to believe She told the truth." "We'll do everything we can to help,” Chanz told him then stepped back. "So will I, Reaper,” Zainabu swore. She looked at Sanchez and Ramirez. "Aye!” the women said in unison, staying as far away from the Reaper as space would allow. "I think you need to go out there first, Kahmal,” Dorrie Burkhart suggested, her cornflower blue eyes worried. “To prepare them." "Dorrie's right,” Cirolia Sern agreed. “They'll want to present you with the Medal of Valor for bringing Cree back. It would be a good time to tell them about the Attribution." "You are right,” the Major of the Amazeen Elite Strike Force replied. “We need to make gods-be-damned sure they don't fall on him and rip him to pieces before we even get him before the Council of Elders." "Whatever you're going to do will you get on with it?” Cree snapped. “I'm losing feeling in my hands." "Nag, nag, nag,” Dorrie said on a long sigh. “That's all you ever do, Kam."

The Reaper cocked a brow at her for she was standing beside him, her arms in restraints as well. “Obviously your shackles aren't as tight as mine, you little bitch." "I'm not the object of an entire planet's rage, either,” Dorrie said smugly, batting her eyelashes at him. "You know,” Sern said, “they don't seem all that angry to me. Just eager to get a look at the infamous Iceman." Cree growled at Sern, hating that nickname. "Down, boy,” Sern said with a laugh. “No offense meant. "Let's hope a look is all they want,” Kahmal said. She straightened her dress tunic, flipped her long red braid behind her, and nodded to Lt. Renata Aegean to open the airlock. There was a loud roar as the Amazeen Major stepped out of theAlluvia . Applause broke out and from the sweep of the ship's vid-com cameras about the assembled women, it was obvious those in charge were having a hard time maintaining order. Women were pushing against those in front of them—all vying for a good position from which to view what was happening. It took a long time before the noise died down, the women at the back of the crowd finally realizing the Major was holding her hand up for silence. "Daughters!” Kahmal called out. “I greet you in the name of peace!" "Peace!” the crowd yelled. "I greet you in the name of the Fruitful Mother of us all Who has allowed me—Her unworthy Daughter—to fulfill the mission I was given!" Another loud roar went up and the applause and stamping of feet was deafening. "I believe the little darlings are happy to know ‘Kadia has me in tow,” Cree grumbled. Kahmal held her hand up once more and kept it raised until the crowd subsided and those inside the ship could have heard a pin drop. "On our mission, we lost two of our own,” Kahmal said and before she could go on, the crowd booed. "Murderer! Rapist! Befouler!” those assembled cursed. "Why don't they really tell us how they feel about me?” Cree quipped. "Who've you been raping that we don't know about, Cree?” Dorrie inquired. "And who did he befoul?” Sern joked. It was all Kahmal could do to quiet the crowd. “Listen to me Daughters!” she called out. “For I must tell you that Dr. Hael Sejm and Captain Thalia Chakai were lost to us—not at the hands of our prisoner—but from a ghoret's bite on Montyne Vex."

Shocked intakes of breath waved through the crowd and the faces of the women turned pale. Ghorets were the deadliest creatures in the megaverse. Not a woman there did not fear the silver-and-green viper. "Captain Chakai was bitten by the vile creature and Dr. Sejm died trying to ease the captain's suffering, having been splattered with venom as she cared for the captain." "Better the Reaper than Captain Chakai!” someone in the crowd shouted and the women roared their agreement. When the women realized Major Kahmal had more to say, the ruckus died down. "The viper that struck the captain struck for me, as well,” Kahmal told the crowd, “but my life was saved by the Reaper." Not a single gasp was heard throughout the crowd. The women had gone as still as death for every one among them understood the implication of what the Major had just imparted. "That shut them up,” Dorrie commented. "The Act was repeated twice more when both Lieutenants Melankhoia Chanz and Cirolla Sern almost blundered over a steep embankment during a blizzard on the Vex. Had not the Reaper intervened, both Daughters would have fallen three hundred feet to their deaths." A solitary voice somewhere in the middle of the crowd spoke the word aloud—Attribution. Another repeated it. Still another and another and another until Kahmal once more asked for silence. "You may ask yourself why the Reaper did this." Women were nodding. Some wore looks of concern on their faces while others appeared shocked to the core of their beings. "I asked the Reaper why he saved my life and called down upon him untold agony he knew he would suffer from the bite of the ghoret. I asked why he had saved the lives of Chanz and Sern and this was his explanation." ” ‘The beast within me wanted each of you to go to your deaths but the human part of me that had been awakened by Bridget's love would not allow me to stand by and watch you women die.’” Complete silence filled the crowd. Not a single woman moved. Major Akkadia Kahmal lifted her chin. “Attribution is a time-honored custom of the Amazeen that had not been invoked for as long as I have drawn breath. I never expected to see it happen and never would I have dreamed I would one day be the recipient of this unselfish act perpetrated by a male—a Reaper male at that. Nor would I ever have entertained the notion that he would save not one female life but three." The Prophetess-Mother had heard all she cared to hear and stepped forward, the Labrys of her office clutched tightly in her hand. The double headed ritual axe glinted lethally in the bright sunlight. “Are you telling us Attribution has been declared by this male?” she snarled. The Major bowed gracefully to the Prophetess-Mother. “Nay, Your Eminence. He did not know of the custom until I told him of it. It was Lieutenants Sern, Chanz and I who declared the act.” She placed her

fist against her heart. “Our lives now belong to him." "Where are these other women?” Cyle Acet, the Prophetess-Mother demanded. "It's show time, ladies,” Dorrie told Chanz and Sern. Also clothed in their dress uniforms, the two lieutenants exited the ship. They stopped just behind the Major and stood rigidly at attention. Taking a step closer, the Prophetess-Mother swept her infuriated glare over the women. “Do you uphold what your commanding officer has relayed to us? Does she speak the truth?" In unison, Chanz and Sern stated that it was so. Dorrie was watching the diminutive Chrystallusian woman standing on the dais of power behind the Prophetess-Mother. LeJong Kym seemed relieved, her eyes closed, her lips moving silently in what Dorrie realized must be a prayer. “Well you have at least one woman out there who's happy you won't be sent to the blade, Kam,” she said. The Prophetess-Mother drew herself up. “You realize this male has been condemned to death by the Council of Elders, do you not, Major Kahmal?" "We know it to be so, Your Eminence, but that was before his unselfish act which saved our lives. We have given him our word as honorable Daughters that his life will not be forfeit." "He was tried and found guilty of numerous crimes against womanhood,” the leader of the Multitude continued. “His death sentence was unanimous!" "It's nice to know I didn't cause any dissension among the Elders,” Cree scoffed. "And the Reaper fully accepted what was to be his fate, Your Eminence,” Kahmal replied. There were low murmurs among the crowd and Cyle Acet made a mistake for which she would never forgive herself. “He accepted he was to die?” she asked. Kahmal nodded. “His exact words to me were ‘I have no life without my lady. I have no desire to live without her so do whatever you want with me. Without my lady I am a walking corpse. Put me out of my misery.’” There were loud sighs from the assemblage of women. "Damn, she's good,” Cree whispered. “Did I really say that?" "Aye,” Lt. Augenia Deon replied. “You did." "Huh,” Cree grunted. "He must be punished!” the Prophetess-Mother shouted for she had heard sighs coming from the crowd and had turned to see the eyes of women close to her sparkling with unshed tears. "What worse punishment can we hand him than an eternal separation from his beloved Bridget?” LeJong

Kym inquired. She took a step forward. “Am I correct in assuming Dr. Sejm tortured the Reaper while he was in her hands?" "Brutally and at length,” the Major stated. LeJong Kym shook her head. “She was not given permission to do that." Every eye in the plaza swung to the Prophetess-Mother. Under the laws of the Multitude, she was required to uphold the debt of honor undertaken by the three women from theAlluvia. To do anything else would bring shame upon the Daughters of the Multitude. "She doesn't look too happy about what she's going to have to do, does she?” Dorrie quipped. "That's because she wanted my ass in the worst way,” Cree said with a snort. "So do I,” Dorrie reminded him. "Aye, but not for the same reason,” the Reaper acknowledged with a grin. Cyle Acet was livid. She was shaking from the anger that had gripped her for she had been placed in a position from which there was no respectable retreat, no possible way out. There could be but one ending to this and the knowledge galled her. "Once more, it seems, the Reaper has escaped his rightful fate,” the Prophetess-Mother declared. “I have no choice but to grant him his life but I draw the line at giving the beast his freedom.” She cocked her chin toward the cage where over a year before Cree's cousins had been burned alive. “That will be his home from this day forward! Caged like the animal he is!" "Oh, for joy,” Cree said. He shrugged his brawny shoulders. “Just what I wanted—a concrete slab and bars out in the open where every woman on Rysalia Prime can come by and spit at me." "You knew they were going to put you there,” Lt. Cedilla Tyrian said. “The goddess willing it won't be for long." "If any woman other than Her Eminence dares to spit on you, it would surprise the hell out of me,” Aegean said. "There's not a woman out there who doesn't know you risked your life to help them gain their freedom,” Dorrie snapped. “Without you, they might still be beneath the yoke of the Empire. They also know all you wanted was to be able to take Bridget and leave this godforsaken planet." "That may be true, Dorrie, but they still wanted me dead,” he said quietly. “My bloodcousins helped the rebellion, too, but you see what happened to them. The Daughters didn't think twice about murdering those men.” He stared at the cage where Kullen, Tohre, Coure, Belial, Kiel, and Gehdrin had perished. He fancied he could still hear their agonized screams. "She's calling for him to be brought out,” Sern said as she came back into the ship. She took hold of his right arm and Tyrian took his left. “Ready?" He nodded. “As I'm ever going to be."

They walked him out of the ship and into the bright glare of the morning sun. He squinted against the glare, his amber eyes narrowed. If the women of Rysalia Prime expected to see a man who had been driven to his knees, they did not get their wish. The man who was brought out of the ship that day held his head high, his shoulders back, his face as steady and emotionless as a statue's. Dressed in a dark green jumpsuit provided for him by the Major, it was the first time any woman there had seen a Reaper dressed in anything save the infamous black uniform that was their trademark. "By Alluvial, he is a handsome brute,” someone whispered and Cree turned his head in the direction from which the words had come. His gaze zeroed in on the speaker and the woman's eyes widened with alarm. She backed up, striving to place herself beyond his scrutiny. "Kamerone Cree!” the Prophetess-Mother spoke up. “You are our prisoner!" The right side of the Reaper's mouth quirked upward but he made no comment to her unnecessary statement. Though he was in shackles, about to be thrown into a cage that—to him—still smelled of burning flesh, he gave no indication that he was the beaten man Cyle Acet had hoped to see. "You will be remanded to yon cage and there you will spend the remainder of your days,” Acet snarled. Cree's attention slid to the leader of the Multitude and held. The coldness in his eyes was so penetrating the temperature in the plaza seemed to drop a degree or two. His gaze crawled over the woman then he looked away, dismissing her. Digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, Acet wanted nothing more than to slap the arrogant look from the Reaper's face. She longed to hear him screaming in pain as he was tortured at the hands of the Council but that was not to be. She had to accept the fact that he had escaped the retribution that had been reserved for him. She reminded herself there was the matter of his bloodsons and the vile offspring of his loathsome kin awaiting execution. Waiting until Sern and Tyrian had walked him down the steps of the ship and onto the plaza before she fell in behind, Acet was angered that women stepped aside for him, the crowd as silent as the tomb as they parted, spreading back in a wedge from the platform to the cage. Cree felt the weight of the women's eyes upon him. Though they melted back as he drew close, they were staring openly at him—something he was not accustomed to from the women of Rysalia—and it made him nervous. Where before the rebellion women would hide from him behind locked doors, men would pretend they did not see him, he was the center of attention and he found the sensation uncomfortable. A niggling tingle had developed between his shoulders. The door to the cage was standing open and as he walked toward it, he had an overpowering urge to break free of the women holding his arms and run. He could see the dark stain upon the concrete where men he knew had met their fiery deaths. That he would be forced to stay in that hellish place set his teeth on edge. "We will refuel the ship as quickly and quietly as possible,” Kahmal had told him. “We will ready it for the return trip to Terra. Trust us to do as you have instructed." Even one hour spent the cage would be a torment he knew he'd remember all his days. He had to believe everything would go according to the plans he and the Major had made. If not, he would go mad watching his bloodsons being incinerated before his eyes.

The posts where the evil would take place stood upon a platform and were lined up in a semicircle just beyond the cage to which he was being remanded. Heavy shackles hung down from each of the eleven steel uprights. From what Kahmal had told him of the three other such executions since the rebellion, the prisoners would be brought forth—their ankles shackled to the men in front and behind them—heavily sedated with neuroleptors that would keep them from struggling but which would enhance the pain they would feel when their bodies were set on fire. "It was something developed by Hael Sejm,” Kahmal had explained to him. “It is calledcéasadh. In Chalean it means..." "Agony,” Cree had translated. “By the gods that woman must have been Raphian's spawn instead of my grandsire's." "Her being the seed of the Destroyer of Men's Souls wouldn't surprise me in the least,” Kahmal had responded. “She took great delight in hurting the men sent to her lab." He had turned wounded eyes to her. “What men?" Kahmal had not wanted to answer and when she did, he was sorry he'd asked though it was important he know the entire scope of Sejm's perfidy. "They were very young Reaper cadets upon whom she tested her witch's brews. Many did not survive to make it to the posts." The closer he got to the cage, the harder it was for Cree to maintain his composure. He did not like being confined—no Reaper did—even if the bars of the cage were open on all sides and top to the elements. He could no longer feel his hands and his arms were beginning to ache. "The circulation has stopped in my arms, Kahmal,"he sent telepathically to the Major. From the corner of his eye, he saw her slight nod. They had reached the entrance to the cage and to Cree the stench of burnt flesh permeated the air. The ground surrounding the cage seemed to be coated with the ashes of the men he had known. "Remove his fetters,” Kahmal commanded Sern. "No!” the Prophetess-Mother shouted, pushing her way past Kahmal and Tyrian. Her eyes were blazing as she stood in front of Cree. “He is to be given no comforts!" Kahmal had long suspected Cyle Acet was as crazy—if not more so—than Sejm. She started to protest but Cree spoke before she had the chance. "Do you fear me that much, wench?” he asked in a tone that suggested he was amused. “Think you I would mind-fuck you if my hands were free? I assure you I wouldn't touch your filthy cunt with a ten foot pole." The slap that slammed against the Reaper's cheek was delivered with a great deal of power—so much so he staggered beneath the blow. But the hit did not seem to faze Kamerone Cree for he simply smiled, his amber eyes twinkling, white teeth sparkling. Sern and Tyrian exchanged a look. They feared not even the Act of Attribution would save Cree if he

pushed the Prophetess-Mother too far. "I will take great delight in watching you mourn the loss of your sons, Reaper,” Acet snarled. “I will have the executrix douse the fire consuming them many times before I will allow them to finally die. Their agony is on your head!" A fatalistic shrug was the only sign Cree had heard her threat. He was staring into her eyes, certain of the insanity that was raging within her shriveled breast. Idly, he wondered what man had hurt her so deeply that she had lost all reason. When he slipped into her mind, he recoiled from the putrefaction roiling there. Delving deeper he found the name of the one who had betrayed her—Briton Keal. The name meant nothing to him but he suspected it had meant much to her. He made a mental note to ask Kahmal who the man had been. The speculation in the Reaper's gaze unnerved Acet and she rightfully surmised he had invaded her thoughts. She backed away from him, her chest heaving. “There is to be no comfort for this man. He is a beast. Let him live like a beast!" "So much for that soft pillow and downy mattress I was expecting. Don't I even get a blankie to keep me warm?” Cree inquired and the women who heard him laughed. Acet's face turned livid with rage. She swung her angry glower amongst the women. “Do you dare encourage this sorry excuse for a humanoid?” she challenged them. "Your Eminence,” LeJong Kym said as she appeared beside the Multitude's leader. “Please remember your blood pressure. This is not good for your heart." Cree turned his head to look at the Chrystallusian woman for just a moment before directing his attention to the inside of the cage. He had known there would be no comforts for him inside his prison. The Council of Elders would make it as unpleasant for him as they could. "Get him in that cage!” Acet shouted. “Let him know who his mistress is!" Kahmal had hoped the Reaper would let that pass but he didn't. She cringed when he laughed at the Prophetess-Mother's remark. "They'll all be mine before it is over and done with, bitch,” he said in a voice just low enough that only the Prophetess-Mother heard his words. Shrieking like a banshee, Acet would have physically attacked him but Kahmal stepped between them, grabbing the flailing woman's arms and holding her as easily as if she were a child. "Enough, Your Eminence! Remember your health!" Acet jerked in that powerful grasp but she was not strong enough to break the Amazeen warrioress’ hold. She contented herself with screaming at the top of her lungs. The women gathered in the plaza watched the spectacle of their leader being led away by Dr. Kym and several orderlies the Chrystallusian scientist had motioned over. Struggling in Kahmal's firm hold, the woman was bucking like a wild animal under restraint. Her curses were the only sound in the plazas and when she was led away by the orderlies—one powerful woman to each side—she continued to wail and thrash about.

"That woman is insane,” Cree said quietly. "Aye,” Sern replied. “We've known that for some time now." "Remove his shackles,” Kahmal said when she returned from leaving the Prophetess-Mother in LeJong Kym's very capable hands. “There is no need for him to be bound." There were murmurs of agreement among the women in the plaza and when Cree's wrists were unbound, he surprised them all by calmly walking into the cage without being told. He turned just inside the door and swept his gaze over the assembled women. When he spoke, every ear turned to him. "I have but one mistress and that is my lady-wife, Bridget. For her and for her alone would I give my life. Denying her to me is a torture you can not begin to comprehend. The pain she suffers at my loss is on your heads." They watched as he went to the center of the confine then sat down, his knees raised and locked within the perimeter of his arms. He stared at the Titaness, the fortress where he knew his bloodsons were being held. He appeared not to notice when the cage door was locked behind him. "He is not what we expected,” one of the women remarked to Kahmal. “He looks nothing like the Reapers who died in that cage." "Aye, the young ones are easy on the eye but the Iceman's cousins were an ugly bunch,” another said, shivering. "I had seen him before,” still another woman commented. “I have long thought him a very comely man though frightening to be near." "He loves his lady,” another said. "And she loved him,” someone else injected. Kahmal sensed these women bore Cree no particular hatred and thought to gain their help. “He is suffering greatly for the loss of his lady, Bridget,” she whispered to them. “It would not surprise me if he lay down and willed himself to die for love of her." The women gasped. “He cares that deeply for the Terran?" "A Reaper?” another inquired. "He risked all for her,” Kahmal reminded them. “He had power, authority, all he could want on FSK-14 yet he threw it all away to be with the woman he loved.” She lowered her voice. “And look at the treachery that was his reward. They gave his woman to his enemy." "You forget your sister was on board the ship he destroyed when he took the life of that enemy,” the eldest of the women snapped. Kahmal lifted her head. “He knew had he left my Sisters alive, they would have come after him. He could not risk his lady being hurt or killed. He apologized to me and has asked for my forgiveness for what he was forced to do."

Shocked, the women looked away from Kahmal to stare at the solitary man who sat so still in the cage. “A Reaper said such?" "On my honor as an Amazeen warrioress, I pledge to you he did. You ask if I have forgotten my sister. No, I have not forgotten, but I have forgiven him for what he did." Cree could hear the words being spoken as clearly as though he were standing beside Kahmal and the women. He was hard pressed not to smile for he knew damned well what his Amazeen was doing. That he now thought of her as belonging to him made him sigh. It seemed he was developing a pack of women supporters. Thoughts of a pack sent his mind into the ship. Lightly he touched the old weretiger's mind and asked if he was comfortable. "I am to get meat,"came back to him. “And milk!" ” ‘Lia will take good care of you, my brother,"Cree told the beast. "I'll take care of you, too, Reaper,"Cirolia Sern sent to him. Shocked by the Amazeen's ability to speak mind to mind to him, Cree looked about him, searching for the woman but Sern was nowhere in sight. Frowning, he reminded himself once more to be careful of his thoughts around that one. If she were capable of intercepting his thoughts, there might well be others who could do the same. **** LeJong Kym was not in a good mood by the time she had sedated the Prophetess-Mother. The woman's screeches and howls had given her a vicious headache. There was also the matter of the scratches down the small Chrystallusian woman's arm that stung from the raking Acet had given her. As Kym walked toward the chamber of the Council of Elders her mind was a seething nest of coiled vipers ready to strike out at any of the hierarchy of older women who thought they controlled Rysalia and its satellite moons. Barely glancing at the two Amazeen guards who stood to either side of the tall bronze doors that led into the Council Chamber, Kym's jaw was clenched tightly. "I have business with the Elders,” Kym stated. The Amazeen on the right quickly opened the door for the Auxiliary Prophetess, bowing respectfully as Kym swept past. "Ah, LeJong,” the Grand Maitresse greeted her. “You have news for us of Her Eminence?" Kym inclined her head. When Acet met her end—in whichever way her lifeline ceased to flow—Kym would be the Heir Apparent to her position. Already she had authority among the Elders for hers was a cooler head than Acet's. "Her Eminence had to be sedated. She put great strain upon her heart this morn,” Kym reported. “She will sleep for most of the day and perhaps through the evening hours." The Grand Maitresse shook her head. “Such behavior does not speak well for her longevity." "Her behavior alienated many among the women,” the Législateur, the lawgiver spoke up. Among the nine Elderly women of the Council, she was the oldest—and presumably the wisest. “Her Eminence did

not help her cause in the matter of Kamerone Cree." "I was embarrassed for Her Eminence,” the Médicine, the newest member of the Elders spoke up. She had taken Hael Sejm's position on the Council. Kym nodded. “As were many of us, Your Grace." "So, his life is not to be taken,” the Grand Maitresse stated. “I cannot say I am pleased he will not pay for his crimes against us." "And what crimes are those, Your Grace?” Kym inquired. A frown slipped over the face of the Grand Maitresse. “Those which condemned him before this Council, Dr. Kym." "He murdered three Amazeen warrioresses,” the Militaire reminded Kym. "Aye, but they were Amazeen warrioresses and not true Daughters,” Kym said. “And he did so only because they posed a threat to his lady.” She spread her hands. “Are we to fault the man for saving the mate he was promised he could have?" The Council of Elders remained silent, none of them wishing to tackle the issue of what had been promised to the Reaper upon his help in freeing the women of Rysalia from their slavery to the Empire. "Are you here to argue his cause, Dr. Kym?” the Gardine, the chief wardess of the prison inquired. "I would champion him, aye,” Kym answered. “I have said all along that we treated the man unfairly, dishonorably, and I stand by that opinion." The Législateur leaned forward. “What would you have us do, LeJong? Release him? Send him back to Terra?” She tapped a page of paper sitting before her. “A death warrant was issued for him—a decision not lightly taken." "But perhaps erroneously taken?” Kym asked. "It is evident you are his champion, Dr. Kym,” the Ravitailleur said. “Is it your opinion he should be treated with honor?" Kym knew she had a staunch ally in Fabienne Corday, the Elder in charge of provisioning the Daughters. She swung her attention to the very thin woman. "I do not believe we should torment him as I am sure is Her Eminence's plan. It will be hard enough on him watching his bloodkin dispatched at the Feast." "I agree with you on what Her Eminence would like to see happen to Cree,” the Gardine said. “It bothers me that he was tortured onboard theAlluvia . There was no call for that." Kym met Yvette Dubois’ eye and knew she had another friend sitting on the Council. “I was most distressed to hear he was treated in such a manner." "What would you have us do, Kym?” the Grand Maitresse asked.

"Put forth an edict that will keep him from being abused by the Daughters,” Kym replied. "And will that edict extend to Her Eminence?” the Législateur queried. "It should specifically state Her Eminence,” the Architecte put in. “I found her conduct this morn irrational and counterproductive to our cause." Surprised she had a supporter in Alexandre Neville, Kym breathed a sigh of relief. “I fear Her Eminence allows her heart to run away with her head at times." "My feelings as well, Dr. Kym,” Marie Fasset, the Éducateur agreed. The woman in charge of the Daughters’ education smiled at Kym, her eyes twinkling. Kym now knew there were at least four of the nine women behind her in the wish that Cree not suffer unduly. All it would take would be one more to side with her for there to be a majority should the issue come to a vote. The Grand Maitresse was certainly not one she could count on and she suspected the newest member—the Médicine—would wait to see how things stood before she put forth her support. Cyle Acet's stand on the matter was a given. That left only the Militaire or the Législateur who might prove to be receptive to aiding Cree. "As a warrioress,” the Militaire began, “I have long admired the Iceman's abilities. It would be a shame to break such a valiant man." Hard pressed not to smile, Kym simply tilted her head to one side in acknowledgement of Michelle Abney's comment. The Chrystallusian woman had her majority. "We will take the matter under consideration,” the Grand Maitresse snapped. She was not a stupid woman and she realized hers was an opinion in the minority on the Council. Kym bowed deeply. “That is all I can ask, Your Grace.” She looked at each of the Elders in turn then left the Council Chamber. **** Kahmal also was having a difficult time keeping her smile from slipping into place. She had gone to the Rysalian Fleet offices to inquire after fueling and provisioning her ship and had been stunned to learn the Militaire had already left orders to see to the ship. "Her Grace suggested you would want to leave for Amazeen directly after the Feast,” the yeoman in charge had told her. She handed Kahmal the necessary papers. Leaving the Fleet offices, she glanced toward the cage. Cree was sitting where he'd been all morning and the cage was ringed with women gawking at him. The Amazeen Major ground her teeth as she neared the cage. "Have you women nowhere to be?” she called out. “Or does pestering the man amuse you?" Blank looks were turned Kahmal's way as she approached. “No one is pestering him,” one of the women told her. “We are merely observing him." "Like we would any animal in a cage,” another said and a few of the women laughed.

"Be about your business, ladies,” Kahmal said. “There will be plenty for you to see come the Feast." Grumbling, the women began to disburse, sending Kahmal nasty looks. To the women of Rysalia Amazeens were to be tolerated because they were warriors and their abilities were needed for protection but most Rysalians detested the tall, muscular females as well as feared them. "You aren't making friends and influencing enemies, ‘Kadia,” Cree said softly. "I was not aware this was a popularity contest, Reaper,” Kahmal snapped. “I do not care what those imbeciles think of me." "Where is Dorrie?” Unable to penetrate the lead-lined walls of the Titaness, he had not been able to track his friend's whereabouts and he was concerned for her. "She is in a cell near the Reapers,” Kahmal said and to a casual observer watching her speak to Cree, she appeared hostile. "Is she all right?" "She was cursing a blue streak as the Terrans say but other than being infuriated that they have deloused her and shorn off her braid, she is as well as can be expected. A lead torque was placed around her neck to keep the Reapers from communicating with her.” Kahmal grimaced. “Enough of her. How are you?" Cree sighed. “I'm thirsty. Do you think they will at least give me something to drink? It is hot out here and I've got a bitch of a headache." "I will see to it.” She walked around the cage where she could see his face. “Are you ill?" "My back is killing me,” he replied. “I've had no Triso today." Kahmal wrapped her hands around the bars. “Why did you not remind me of that this morn?" He shrugged. “In the anticipation of landing, it slipped my mind. Now, the parasite is reminding me of how big a fool I was." "I'll be right back!” she said and hurried off. The last thing they needed was for Cree to screw up his schedule and Transition out of cycle still again. She knew he had to be in greater discomfort that he was letting on and could have kicked herself for forgetting about what he needed. The Healer's Complex was deep inside the Fleet Command headquarters—near the middle of the vast complex. Walking as fast as she could, Kahmal bulldozed past women who turned to glare at her. Nearly running by the time she reached the medical facility, she was sweating when she rushed up to the receptionist's desk. "I need to speak with your Chief of Staff immediately,” Kahmal demanded. The receptionist arched a thin brow. “Do you have an appointment?" Not even thinking about what she was doing, Kahmal reached across the desk and grabbed the receptionist by her collar and pulled the woman out of her seat.

"I have a Prime Reaper who has not had his daily 250 mg dosage of Triso sitting out there in the hot sun. Do you want to be the one to tell the Council of Elders you are the cause of him Transitioning out of cycle? Would you like to be thrown into the cage with him to administer his Triso to keep that from happening?" The receptionist's face paled. “No, Major,” she said and grunted when Kahmal shoved her back into her chair. The woman was quick to punch in the Chief of Staff's secretary. She spoke briefly with the secretary then looked up at Kahmal, her hands shaking. "The Chief of Staff will be right out with the Triso, Major,” the receptionist said. The thick double doors leading into the medical operatories swung open and an imposing blonde woman came straight toward Kahmal. “Do you know how to administer this?” she asked, holding up the vac-syringe. "I would think he does,” Kahmal replied. “I doubt any one wants to get into the cage with him and that includes me." Her face losing what little color it had, the Chief of Staff nodded, extending the vac-syringe to Kahmal. “Does he get this every morning?" "Aye,” Kahmal replied. “Along with four veds of Sustenance. He must have both and he needs the Sustenance ASAP as well as water." "I will arrange for it to be taken to him but as you say, none of my staff will venture into that cage." "It is securely locked anyway,” Kahmal reminded the Chief of Staff. “They couldn't get in without a guard allowing them to do so.” She turned to leave. "Is there anything else I should know in regards to his health?” the Chief of Staff called out. "Under no circumstances is he to be given any food which contains garlic. Even a minute amount will cause him severe problems." "Aye, I remember that from my pre-med days. I will make sure the nutritionists are made aware." Kahmal waved a hand in acknowledgement of the Chief of Staff's words then sped back to the cage. Even before she reached the bars, she could see the sweat glistening on the Reaper's face and the shivers attacking his muscular frame. "Can you inject yourself?” she asked. "I can try,” he said and pushed up from the concrete. He staggered, putting a hand to his back where his parasite was bulging beneath the skin. "Come close to the bars and I'll do it for you,” Kahmal said, her face showing her concern for his condition. “Are you going through withdrawal this soon?" "Aye, unfortunately so,” he said. He walked over to where she was standing and laid his forehead against the bars that separated them. Sweat was pouring down his face and the underarms and back of

his jumpsuit was soaked. His hands were trembling badly. It was easy to see the large vein in his neck. Kahmal plunged the needle into his flesh and felt the tremor that shuddered through him as the potent, fiery drug invaded his system. "By Alel, that never gets any easier,” he whispered. “Especially when it's been longer than twenty-four hours in between doses." "You need water,” Kahmal said, allowing her hand to touch his cheek before she stepped back. “You are dehydrating. Where the hell is that Sustenance and water?” That said, she spun on her heel and stalked off. The fight had been drained out of the Reaper when the pain in his back began and he slid down beside the bars, leaning against the coolness of the tempered steel. He wrapped his arms around him to still the shakes that had him in their grip. "Here,” Kahmal said, hunkering down before him and thrusting a large cup of water through the bars. Cree reached out and covered Kahmal's fingers with his own and brought the cup to his mouth. He drained it, gulping in the liquid. “My bloodkin?” he asked. “Have you learned anything of them?" "Don't worry about that right now,” Kahmal snapped. “They are no doubt in better condition than you are." He looked into her vivid green eyes. “Do you know that for a fact, ‘Kadia, or are you just guessing?" She knew he could easily read her mind so she shrugged. “I've yet to take a look at them but I will. I was told they have not been maltreated." "I don't trust these women to tell the truth. See to them, ‘Kadia,” he asked. "I will,” she repeated. The Triso was calming the hellion beneath his skin and the Reaper relaxed as he sat leaning against the bars. He plowed a hand through his thick brown hair. “Thank you, ‘Kadia." Kahmal ached to reach out and touch him, to stroke the beads of sweat from his brow. “Don't stay close to the bars,” she warned him. “Only the goddess knows what some of these women are capable of doing if they can lay hands to you." He nodded and took hold of the bars to lever himself up. For a moment he wavered then walked back to the center of the cage and sat down, drawing his knees up again. "See to my sons,” he reminded Kahmal still again. "Stop worrying, Reaper,” she said. “They'll be bringing you some Sustenance and more water in a few minutes." He locked gazes with her before lowering his head to his crossed arms. There was no need for him to tell her he would stop worrying when they made their escape from Rysalia Prime.

"I will come see you in the morning,” Kahmal told him. "I think I'll stay here for awhile,” he said with a snort. Kahmal turned to see a guard hurrying toward her with a beaker of Sustenance and a jug of water. “Just put it inside the cage. He will get it when you are out of his reach." The guard's eyes widened but she did as she was told, scurrying back from the cage as quickly as she could. Without waiting to see if the Reaper would take the offerings, she practically ran back into Fleet Command.

Chapter Twelve "Does it seem to you we have allies here we weren't counting on?” Sern asked Kahmal as the Major got ready to leave the ship later than afternoon. "Kym is definitely a supporter,” Kahmal stated. “I was surprised on that account." "She is in love with our Reaper,” Sern informed her Major. Kahmal blinked. “Are you certain?" "As surely as I stand here,” Sern replied. “I've been tracking her movements and she went straight to the Council of Elders after sedating the mad woman. She has a majority of the Council behind her." "Cree said the goddess swore She would not hinder him in taking his men and leaving Rysalia,” Aegean said. “Perhaps She has a hand in this?" "Aye, but She also told him She would not lift a hand to help him,” Kahmal snapped. "Maybe She changed Her mind,” Chanz commented. "Maybe,” Kahmal agreed. “There was far less anger in that crowd than I expected.” She swiped a hand over her face. “Those gathered seemed more concerned with getting a look at Cree rather than wanting to see him on his knees." Ceatie—Sern's weretiger—pushed his head under the Amazeen woman's arm to remind her he was there. A loud purring filled the ship's bridge as Sern reached down to scratch the animal behind his ear. "Do we have the coordinates of the poles entered into the transport bank?” Kahmal asked. "Aye and as soon as the last Reaper cadet is shackled, I'll have a transport beam locked on him,” Chanz replied. "As well as on Cree and Dorrie,” Lt. Augenia Deon reminded her. "Most assuredly on Cree,” Chanz said. "I told him I would go check on his men,” Kahmal said. “I'll do that before meeting with Kym.

"You've a meeting scheduled with her?” Sern inquired. Kahmal nodded. “Since Acet is incapacitated, it will be Kym who will present me with my Medal of Valor this evening. I asked that there be no ceremony and the Elders reluctantly agreed. I'll receive the medal in Kym's office." "Do you think she knows what we are planning?” a worried Tyrian asked. "You tell me, ‘Dilla,” Kahmal answered. “Our ship is being refueled and provisioned tomorrow morning in anticipation of our leaving for Amazeen directly after the Feast. I didn't even have to request that. It was already in the works before I got to Fleet. The Militaire, herself, put the plan into motion. I checked on where we will be docked and we've been assigned a berth at the very end of the line, as close to the iris as there is. After we and Sorn landed, the docking station was closed to any more ships. Both the DarkWind and Raphaella's StarRaider were ordered into orbit. There will be no hindering those ships when we blast out of here. They'll be right behind us." "How many other ships are docked here?” Chang asked. "I'm told five and that includes theAreto that docked just before we did." "We need to disable as many of those ships as we can,” Aegean pointed out. "'Genia and I will see about that tomorrow." "I'll help,” Tyrian put in. "Don't forget there will be many more ships bringing pilgrims to the Feast,” Deon said. “The sky will be wall to wall with them soon." Kahmal smiled. “As a matter of fact there won't be,” she said. “Fleet told me due to anticipated overcrowding pilgrims are being housed on FSK-9 and 12 and then brought down in shuttles. The DarkWind and the StarRaider were the last allowed to move into an orbit pattern." "Don't forget somewhere out there is the Necroman's ship,” Deon said. “Hopefully, he'll be monitoring the shuttles." "Shuttles won't be a problem. They don't have weapons or the power to overtake an LRC in a chase. We can disable them in a heartbeat,” Sern said. “Don't tell me the goddess isn't working over time to help us." "I'll need to knock out communications as quickly as possible so the ships up there can't be dispatched after us,” Tyrian suggested. "I don't think that will be much of a concern. With all the women down here for the Feast, who would crew the ships?” Chanz asked. "If we can disable the ships in the docking bay, we might be able to get out of here without a pack of she-wolves on our heels!” Sern said. "That's the plan,” Kahmal agreed.

"I would still feel safer if there was no way for the ships up on the frontier stations to learn about what's going on down here,” Tyrian insisted. “Or for Fleet to put out a bulletin to any ships nearby." "Do what you think best, ‘Dilla,” Kahmal told her. She glanced at her timepiece. “I've got to get to Kym's office.” She looked to Deon. “Would you make certain Cree gets fed? He has to be starving by now." "Not a problem." As she exited her ship, Kahmal was careful not to turn her head toward the cage but from the corner of her eye she checked on the man they were all risking their lives to protect. She bit down on her lower lip for he was lying on the concrete in a fetal position, his head on his arm. She knew he had to be uncomfortable. At least there were no women lurking near the cage to annoy him. Kahmal entered the Fleet Command Headquarters and was surprised the halls were empty. The offices she passed appeared to be deserted and as she walked past one and saw a lone worker at her desk, she stopped, went back, and knocked upon the door frame. The worker glanced up at her and smiled. "How may I help you, Major?” the woman asked. "Are the Fleet offices closed already?” Kahmal inquired. "Aye, ma'am, they are. We were given the remainder of the day off in celebration of the Reaper's capture." "I see,” Kahmal said. “Yet you are still working." The woman nodded. “I have nothing to celebrate,” she replied. “To me this is not a joyous occasion." Kahmal tilted her head to one side. “Why not?" "In my opinion Kamerone Cree was treated dishonorably, Major,” the woman answered. “He should have been left where he was. He posed no threat to the Multitude." "I see,” Kahmal said. “Then you should be happy he isn't to meet the fate the Elders had reserved for him." "Aye, but the fate looking him in the face is perhaps a far worse one than the bite of the guillotine's blade,” the woman replied. "How do you mean?" "He is alone, Major. He is without his beloved Bridget." Thanking the woman for her candor, Kahmal continued on down the hall. She had not been expecting any of the women of Rysalia Prime to be concerned about Cree but it seemed the Reaper was not as hated as the Prophetess-Mother would have them believe. Kym's office was in an opulent suite of rooms done in the style of Chrystallusian décor. The secretary who ushered Kahmal into the Auxiliary Prophetess’ office bowed deeply to the Major and inquired if she would care for a cup of green tea.

"Thank you,” Kahmal said. “That would be nice." "Shei-Ling makes wonderful jasmine tea,” Kym said as she indicated a horseshoe chair in front of her desk. “Please, sit, Major Kahmal." Kahmal inclined her head and sat down in the delicate-looking chair. She was surprised at the comfort it provided. "How is he doing this evening?” Kym inquired. Kahmal arched a brow. “The Reaper?” At Kym's nod, she shrugged. “I suppose he is well enough." Kym smiled. “You are in the presence of a woman who has great concern over Kamerone Cree's safety and comfort, Major. I ask you again—how is he?" Kahmal shifted in the chair. “He was lying down when I saw him last. I believe he has one of his migraines." "And not able to sleep it off I would wager,” Kym said. “He has always had problems in that area." "As I understand it, all Reapers have trouble sleeping,” Kahmal replied cautiously. The Auxiliary Prophetess’ smile slowly leached from her face. “He deserves so much more than a bare floor upon which to lay his handsome head. Don't you agree, Major?" "I agree the man has been treated abominably,” Kahmal replied. Despite what Sern had said about Kym's feelings toward Cree, trusting her was not something Kahmal could do easily. “Although he was responsible for the deaths of my sister and cousin when he fled Rysalia Prime." "Deaths I am sure he regrets,” Kym said softly. "He has apologized to me for them,” Kahmal said. "I am told he has a son by Bridget,” Kym said, steepling her fingers beneath her chin. “To your knowledge, has he ever held that child?" A deep frown formed between Kahmal's eyes. “Why should that be of interest to you, Your Grace?" "Humor me, Kahmal. Has he or has he not ever held his son?" Kahmal shook her head. “I do not believe he has." "And I am sure that proved to be a problem between him and Bridie,” Kym said then sighed. “As if there had not been enough troubles already shared between them. I will need to speak to Kamerone before he leaves us." A tingle of alarm rippled down Kahmal's back. “I don't follow, Your Grace." Kym's secretary brought in a tray upon which two cups and a steaming pot of tea sat. She placed the tray on the Auxiliary Prophetess’ desk then poured tea for first Kahmal, then Kym. When she was

finished, she bowed and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her. "My office has not been tampered with, Major,” Kym assured her visitor. “No unwanted ears will hear our conversation.” She took a sip of her tea. “By this time next week, I will be in different offices.” She smiled. “Much more prestigious than these." "The Prophetess-Mother will be stepping down?" Kym's smile widened. “Stepping down, tripped? Who knows? To paraphrase an old Terran saying, feces occurs." Kahmal's lips twitched. “I see. Then I would like to be the first to congratulate you on your promotion, Your Grace." "Duly noted,” Kym acknowledged. She nudged her chin toward a golden box sitting on her desk blotter. “There is your medal, by the way. Forgive me if I don't pin it on you." "Forgive me if I don't pin it on, either,” Kahmal ventured to say. The two women eyed one another for a few moments then Kym set her tea cup aside. “I know you are being cautious, Akkadia, but there is no need to be. I have no intention of seeing either Kamerone or any more of his kin murdered. I assure you when I ascend the dais as Prophetess-Mother, such atrocities will be banned." "Surely there are no more Reaper kin out there to be at risk,” Kahmal said. "There are two that we know of. One, we had in our grasp for a short while but he managed to escape with several others. His twin was not so lucky. That one was burned to death but not at the poles as his kinsmen before him. His death was an accident." "Was he one of Cree's?” Kahmal inquired. “The one who escaped?" "Aye. Sajin, twin of Aidan, who died. We were unable to find Sajin when we harvested this last batch." "And the other?" "Khiershon, Cree's eldest. I am sure you know Khiershon was taken to the Vex." Kahmal looked down at her lap and plucked a piece of lint from her pants. “I had heard he'd been captured, aye. Do you have any idea where those two are?" Kym shook her head. “No but when they are found—and eventually they will be—I will make sure they are well cared for. They will be incarcerated here in the Titaness but they will not have one hair on their heads harmed." "I see,” Kahmal said. "I hope you do, Akkadia, for I want nothing to happen to Kamerone Cree or his kin and I would rather see him take his bloodsons and blood nephews and leave this part of the megaverse for good,” Kym stated, meeting the other woman's eye with a stern look. “There are, however, those who would like nothing more than to see him burn alongside his men."

"I was once of that mind set,” Kahmal said cautiously. "Understandable considering your sister met her fate at his hands." "Another sibling apparently lost her life on the Vex at the hands of his bloodson,” Kahmal said. “Do you have any knowledge of what happened there?" "Only that several Amazeen were there to execute a death warrant upon Khiershon Cree. It would not surprise me to learn the Serenians had a hand in his rescue. Your domestic queen made the comment that Khiershon had a great friend in a Serenian named Iyan McGregor and if they could find McGregor, they'd find Khiershon. I will need to consult with the goddess and see what She will tell me regarding Kamerone's eldest but my heart tells me he is well." "Cree spoke with Her while he was on theAlluvia ,” Kahmal said. “Or so he claims." "Kamerone is incapable of lying,” Kym reminded her. “If he says he spoke to our goddess, he did.” She cocked her head to one side. “Did he relate to you what was said between them?" "He said She swore not to interfere with him rescuing his bloodkin but that She also told him She would not help him." "Now, that is curious,” Kym commented. “Five of the Elders on the Council are aligned with me to protect our glorious Reaper. The women gathered on the plaza today did not call for his blood." "A few showed anger,” Kahmal disagreed. "I would wager my left tit they were plants, instructed to behave as they did." "That could be. I, myself, witnessed few women willing to condemn him,” Kahmal said. "My thought is the goddess has decided to lend Her aid to Cree. Perhaps She feels it is best to rid us of him once and for all but in a way that will be honorable this time and not show the Multitude in a bad light." Kahmal nodded. “That is the telling point, isn't it, Your Grace. Honorable?" "If I had been allowed to have my way, you and your strike force would not have been sent after him in the first place. He deserved his freedom for what he did in helping our cause." Kahmal looked down at her hands. “We would have been sent after him whether or not the Daughters asked us to or not. He killed three of our Sisters. It was the defense queen's decision to send us. One of those killed was her youngest daughter." "Ah,” Kym said. “I am sorry to hear that. Will she press the issue when he escapes this time?" "She might, but since her eldest daughter will be with him when he flees—never able to return to Amazeen for her treasonous act—she might decide not to intervene." "To—as the Terrans say—cut her losses?” Kym pressed.

"It seems our queens each have a Reaper to thank for her daughter's treachery,” Kahmal said quietly. “Queen Rhia's daughter, Raphaella, fled with Khiershon Cree, helping him escape in the first place.” She closed her eyes. “Now Queen Melanippe's daughter will be branded a traitor, too." "I am sure your mother will one day forgive you, Akkadia,” Kym said. "Never,” Kahmal said. She opened her eyes and lifted her head. “She will never forgive me, but that can not be helped. Cree saved my life as well as those of Chanz and Sern. He is deserving of our loyalty and help." "More than you will ever know,” Kym agreed. “By the way, send the Necromani and the Ionarians to see me as soon as you get back to your ship. I want to assess for myself their willingness to aid Kamerone and his kin." Kahmal acknowledged the order although she found it a strange request. **** It was dark, the hour well past midnight, when Cree heard the furtive movement coming closer to the cage. He lay on his side with his eyes cracked open just enough for him to survey the area immediately in front of him. With his acute psychic abilities homing in on the woman creeping toward his prison, he could not detect an aura of anger. All he felt was sadness and fright. There was something bulky in the woman's arms as she advanced on the cage. She was looking about her—her terror keen enough to send vibrations through the air. Although she was trying to be as quiet as possible, she could not control the rapid beat of her heart and Cree could hear it as clearly as he could her tremulous breathing. He saw her squat down by the cage and push what she carried through the bars. Their eyes met as the moon sailed out from behind a bank of clouds. He realized what it was that she had brought him and he sat up slowly. The woman was perched on the ground like a little sparrow and she was trembling from head to toe, poised to run if he made a sudden move. "Thank you,” he said quietly. Her mouth twitched into a hesitant smile but when he made no move to come toward her, the smile stayed. “You are welcome, Captain Cree,” she whispered. "May I know your name?” he asked. She looked about, seeming to expect guards to rush at her. “Diana,” she said. “I was a friend of Bridie's." "And you still are, Diana,” he said. “She will bless you for aiding her husband." "She is well?" "She was when last I saw her,” he said. “We have a son." A long sigh came from Diana. “I am happy for her, Captain.” She lifted a hand in farewell, got to her feet and disappeared into the night.

Cree stood up and went to retrieve the pillow and blanket the woman had given him. His body ached from lying on the hard concrete and he had a brutal headache he suspected was because he hadn't had all that much to eat the day before. The food that had been begrudgingly provided for him had been minimal and almost tasteless, shoved into the cage by a woman who had actually hissed at him. He smiled thinking of Deon cursing the woman and calling her a coward. Taking the pillow and blanket back to the center of the cage, he lay down on his back, grateful for the softness and the clean smell of the pillow case. Although the night was chill, he was perfectly comfortable since Reaper body temperatures were higher than that of humans. The blanket he folded and shoved under his rump to cushion him from the hardness of the floor. He stared up at the juncture where the bars of the cage met at the top, welded together to form an arched ceiling. There was no covering to protect him should the vagaries of the Rysalia Prime weather decide to turn stormy—as it often did at that time of year—and no shade to keep out the blazing sun that had plagued him the day before. But through the overhead bars, he could see the stars and therefore did not feel as claustrophobic as he would have if his confinement had been enclosed. Nevertheless, he felt his imprisonment to the depths of his soul, hating the fact that he was restrained, locked up, unable to move about freely. To a Reaper, it was a torment that was barely endured. Though his incarceration was troubling, it was not the cause of the agony that was ripping his heart to shreds, keeping him from sleep. His thoughts as he stared up at the stars were on Bridget and he felt the tears gathering in his eyes. Angrily blinking them away, he clenched his teeth. It would not do for him to give in to his misery. There was nothing he could do about it at that moment. The memory of her face that last day in the hospital cafeteria was burned into his mind's eye. She had been sobbing—her fear a sentient life form. She had held out a hand to him, telling him she was sorry, calling him her beloved, telling him she loved him, a moment before he'd been snatched away from her. Tylan Kahn had been laying a few feet away, unconscious, and his condition unknown. If Kahn was able, he would be looking after Bridget now, taking care of her and Jaelin. Cree knew it would be years of Terran time before he might see either again—if he ever did. By now, his and Bridget's son Jaelin would be talking, walking. Thinking of his son brought intense hurt to Cree's soul. On Terra, he had been unable to touch his child, even though he ached to do so, for fear the beast within him would hurt the boy. "I miss you, milady,” he whispered to the stars. “I miss our son. I hope you both are well." He was remembering the last time he made love to her, the last time they had been true husband and wife. It had begun with a silly argument over a garbage bag. "Gimme the bag!" "No,” he said on a long breath. “But I'll give you something else." She had stilled, looking up into his hot eyes to watch the desire forming there. Her own eyes widened. “Oh, no, you won't!” Before she could move, he had her against him, his arms enfolding her. She squirmed, trying to break free, but his hold tightened. "Be still,” he whispered, his lips against her ear.

"Bastard,” she said, but her heart wasn't in the insult for the hardness of him was pressed intimately against her belly. "Bitch,” he whispered in return and ran his tongue inside her ear. She shivered, melting against him. “Is this all you know how to do?" "No,” he replied. “I know how to do this, too.” He moved one hand between her legs. "Oh hell.... “She sighed. The heat of his palm was at the juncture of her thighs and pressing against her own heat. "How about tearing into something other than a garbage bag, Dr. Dunne?" "Like?” she asked as she slowly lifted her gaze to his. He grinned and lifted her onto the counter. He pushed her skirt up her thighs then wedged between her legs. “Oh, I don't know,” he muttered. He hooked his fingers in her panties and ripped them away. “Like a bag of cotton candy maybe?" She shrieked with exasperation then wrapped her long legs around his waist to anchor him to her. “You are a hateful man, Captain Cree!" "I am a horny man, Doctor Dunne." "A condition you seem to perpetuate of late." He shrugged. “Perhaps I can have Troi engineer a fembot to—" "The hell you will!” She reached out to take his face in her hands. She pulled his head toward her then slanted her mouth hungrily across his. As she drove her tongue between his teeth, she had heard his answering growl of passion and felt him fumbling with the zipper of his jeans. "Wicked woman,” he said against her mouth as he freed himself. "Your wicked woman." "Aye,” he agreed as he drove into her. “Cree's very wicked woman." A single tear slid unbidden down the Reaper's face, but he didn't notice. His attention was fixed on the black heavens and the twinkling stars that were so far, far away. **** Cirolla Sern sensed Cree's misery and wished there was something she could do to ease his desolation. She'd been reading his thoughts all evening and had known the exact moment the woman had provided a small measure of comfort to him. She had used her unique talents to shield the woman from hostile eyes that might have prevented her from seeing to Cree's needs. Likewise she had protected Diana from guards who might have stopped her and thrown her into prison for what she'd done to aid the Reaper. Turning over in her bunk onboard theAlluvia , she sent her mind wanderings out in search of other

women who had talents like her own, but she encountered none. If there were such women on Rysalia Prime, they were carefully shielding themselves from her probing or—more than likely—the potential invasion of the Reaper's sublims. "Go to sleep, lady. Stop worrying about me." The whisper invaded Sern's mind like a slide of velvet and she smiled. "You go to sleep, Reaper,"she sent back to him and heard a soft chuckle in return. "How can I sleep when you're broadcasting louder than a klaxon, wench?" "Goodnight, Cree." He did not reply and Sern pulled the covers over her shoulders and settled down, closing her eyes and her mind to the man who had inadvertently captured her heart. **** In her lonesome bed, LeJong Kym was also thinking of Kamerone Cree. She had forgotten just how handsome the Reaper was and as she lay there, she pictured the dark thickness of his hair, the sparkle of his sinful amber eyes and she sighed. He still had the ability to give her such wicked, wicked ideas. How she loved the man, she thought—so much so her soul ached for want of him. No man had ever held interest for her and no man ever would save Kamerone Cree. Beside him, no other male could hold a candle to her way of thinking. "Ah, Bridget,” the Chrystallusian scientist breathed. “You are such a lucky woman to have his love, to have known the pleasure of that magnificent body." A part of LeJong wanted to keep Cree there forever simply to have him near, but the great love she bore the man would not allow her to hurt him such a way. He needed to be with his mate and Kym would make sure that came to pass. Despite the insanity that ruled Cyle Acet and her misguided followers, Kym would see to it that the Prime Reaper gained his freedom to return to Terra. But before that could happen, she must see him. Come morning, she would send guards to bring him to her office for there were things she needed to tell him, things he needed to know. Cree's future life with Bridget depended on him learning what Kym had discovered.

Chapter Thirteen "Where the hell did you get that pillow?" Cree slowly opened his eyes and looked at the irate woman on the other side of the bars. He could see her practically quivering with outrage as she stood there holding his vac-syringe of Triso and beaker of Sustenance. "Get up and bring that pillow to me right now!” the woman shouted, her eyes blazing with fury. Kahmal had just exited theAlluvia and was on her way to the Titaness to check on Cree's bloodkin. She had schooled herself not to look toward the cage but at the angry shout, she turned her head and frowned.

"Do you hear me, beast?” the guard yelled. “You'll not get this shit until you hand over that pillow and blanket!" A muscle flexed in the Prime Reaper's jaw and he sat up, crooked one knee, and rested his wrist upon it. He didn't like being yelled at by a woman and especially not by one who looked as though her face had been constructed in a cement mixer. His amber eyes narrowed viciously as he stared at the guard. "Get the hell up, Cree!” the guard screamed again, stomping her foot like a spoiled child. Sern and Deon were right behind Kahmal and the three were standing in front of their ship, taking in the scene that had already garnered the attention of every woman on the plaza. A crowd was gathering, pointing, waiting to see what would happen. Aegean, Tyrian, and Chanz were in their ship viewing the ruckus on theAlluvia's vid-com screen. "Doesn't she have sense enough to know not to talk to him in that way?” Chanz asked. “Look at his face." Aegean shuddered. “I wouldn't want him looking at me like that." "Aye, if looks could kill...” Chanz agreed. "'Kadia better intercede or the bitch is liable to pour out the Sustenance and take the Triso back into Fleet Command with her,” Tyrian said. "I'm not going to say it again, Iceman. Give me that pillow and blanket or else!" Kahmal groaned. She knew Cree despised the nickname and no one dared say it to his face, much less scream it at him. She started toward the guard, the Prime Reaper's words bringing her up short. "You want it, slut?” Cree queried. His eyes were shooting crimson sparks and the fingernails of the hand on his knee had extended to thick curved talons that were idly drumming against leg. He smiled nastily to reveal sharp rows of wicked fangs as his voice lowered to a savage growl. “Then come and get it." Women backed away from the cage even though they were nowhere near the bars. Faces turned white as parchment. Eyes grew wide. None had ever seen a Reaper in Transition and few wanted to. "Is he Transitioning?” Deon gasped. "By the goddess I hope not,” Sern said and tried to slip under his radar to read his mind. When he snapped his head toward her and impaled her with those deadly eyes, she withdrew quickly, feeling the brunt of his anger wash over her like scalding water. The guard had gone as still as death. She stood there with the Triso and Sustenance locked in her hands, unable to move as the man in the cage got slowly to his feet like the predator he was. She stared at him as he crouched there—legs spread, claws flexed, fangs showing—and felt her water cascading down her pant leg. The hot stench of her urine made her moan. "What are you waiting for?” the Reaper taunted. “You wanted this stuff. I dare you to come in here to retrieve it."

Shaking her head, the guard forced herself to take a step back. She nearly screamed when the Amazeen Major appeared at her side and snatched the Triso and Sustenance from her grip. "He'll not forget you. He has your scent in his nostrils,” Kahmal told the guard. “I suggest you never get close enough to him for him to grab you, sergeant, else he'll tear you apart. You'd better warn the other guards to leave him the hell alone! Now get out of here while you still can." Not needing a second command, the guard fled, running as fast as she could back into Fleet Command. Those who had stopped to observe what was happening made no move to leave. They knew the cage would hold the Reaper and they were curious to see what he would do next. His scarlet-glowing eyes had shifted to Major Kahmal and held. Kahmal swallowed. She was staring into the eyes of a being that at that moment was more beast than man and she could sense the fury that was pumping through him. He had yet to draw in his claws, retract his fangs, and the carmine gleam in his glower unnerved her. "Behave, Kamerone,” she whispered, knowing he would be able to hear her with his acute hearing. He cocked his head slightly and growled low in his throat. "Please,” she amended. Slowly the talons shrank, disappearing into the tips of his fingers and the fangs withdrew. The heated red glare was the last thing to vanish but in its place was a frigid look that told Kahmal Cree was in no mood to be told what to do. She tensed as he came toward her, his face hard. "The pillow stays,” he said when he reached the bars. His voice was deadly quiet and all the more lethal for it. "I'll see to it,” she agreed. "The blanket, as well." Kahmal nodded. She was close enough to the bars for him to shoot out a hand to grab her but she stayed where she was, extending the Triso to him. He shook his head and pressed up against the bars. “You do it,” he ordered. The women watching this spectacle held their breath as the Reaper reached through the bars and put one arm around the Major, drawing her up to him so that only the bars separated their bodies. She could feel the heat of his body wafting over her. "Is this necessary?” Kahmal asked through clenched teeth as she watched the vein in his neck pumping furiously. "Aye, wench,” he snarled, rubbing against her. “It is." She injected the vac-syringe's payload into his neck and was amazed that he didn't even flinch. He was completely in charge of his body and the strength in his arms as he pulled her to him was like steel.

He took the beaker of Sustenance from her with his free hand and stepped back, releasing her. “Now see to my bloodkin,” he said, dismissing her. Kahmal watched him go back to the center of the cage, drop down on the blanket, and tip the beaker to his lips. She winced as she heard him slurping the blood and turned away, heading for the Titaness, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hand. "What the hell was that all about?” Deon asked Sern. Sern shook her head. “I don't think I want to know but if it was his intention to get the attention of every woman watching, he did." **** From the vid-com screen in her office, LeJong Kym had watched the action at the cage unfolding. She was smiling. Her Reaper hadn't lost his edge. She called out to her secretary. "Shei-Ling have Lieutenants Chanz and Aegean escort Captain Cree to my office within the hour." Shei-Ling put a hand to her mouth. “The Prime?” she repeated, eyes like saucers. "There's no need to be worried. He'll come peacefully,” Kym told her. “He'll do nothing to compromise his bloodkin's safety." Bowing, Shei-Ling started away but the Auxiliary Prophetess called out to her. "And make sure no one pilfers his pillow and blanket while he's gone. If it's not there when he returns, therewill be hell to pay. He is not a forgiving man." **** Kahmal was livid by the time she had passed through the security measures in the Titaness. Not at the strict procedures that insured the prisoners kept there could not escape but by the male show of power Cree had enforced upon her at the cage. She had barely glanced at Sern who had followed her into the Titaness. "Why are you here, Cirolia?” Kahmal demanded. "He sent me,” Sern said with a helpless shrug. Kahmal stopped and turned to glare down at her subordinate. “Why?” she questioned. “Doesn't he trust me to report truthfully back to him?" "It's not that,” Sern answered. “He can't contact the other Reapers because of the lead lining the walls of the prison. He wanted me to use my gift to speak to them for him, to order them to cooperate fully with you." Somewhat mollified by the explanation, Kahmal continued walking though her gut was roiling with anger. “Underhanded bastard,” Kahmal snapped. “I could have broken his neck out there this morning." "I think I know why he did what he did,” Sern said and nearly bumped into the Major as Kahmal stopped and spun around.

"And that reason is?” Kahmal prompted. "He wanted to show the women watching him that he would not harm those who helped him but those who opposed him, who tried to hurt him, would suffer the consequences.” Sern shrugged again. “I think it worked. The women were looking at him with respect." "Bastard,” Kahmal named him again, but she said it with a sigh. “He'll be the death of me yet." The Amazeen arrived at the elevator that would take them down into the underground area where the Reapers were being held. "I've always heard Reapers are claustrophobic,” Sern said. “This must be hell for them." Kahmal grunted. She, too, was claustrophobic and the journey down beneath the ground set her teeth on edge. She could feel the sweat gathering in her palms as the oppressive weight of the phobia struck out at her. The solitary confinement cells were seven feet by seven feet, twenty feet high, and because they were located fifty feet below ground, had no windows. Embedded in the stainless steel wall were two horizontal iron beams upon which was welded a solid sheet of metal six feet long by four feet wide. Serving as the Reaper's bed, the metal sheet bore neither padding nor covers. In one corner of the cell was a four-inch wide waste removal hole. In another corner was a shower head that came on once a week for ten minutes, the waste from the shower flowing away into a small grate in the center of the bare concrete floor. A wire-encased light recessed into the center of the ceiling was never extinguished and likewise the small grate in the center of the cell door was never closed. Beneath the grate was a pass-through for the Reaper's daily dose of Triso, his Sustenance, and the single meal he was given at midday. On the Reaper's side of the pass-through, electronic sensors containing high voltage stuns had been placed to keep him from thrusting his hand through the slot. Embedded in the ceiling was a vid-com camera that watched every move the prisoner made. Taegin Kullen, son of Symthian and the eldest among the Reapers became aware of the psychic female the moment she came onto the pod level. Through the small slot in the door of their cells, he was able to communicate with his bloodkin despite the heavy liner of lead that coated the outside wall of their cells. He sensed her presence. "Do you feel that?"Rylan Cree, the second oldest, inquired. "Break off!"Taegin commanded. If their jailers were aware they could converse with each other, they'd find a way to stop it and their isolation would become far worse. Sern reached out to put a hand to Kahmal's arm, halting her in mid-stride. She shook her head when the Major would have questioned her. Listening closely, she did not hear the two voices that had spoken but she knew the Reapers were aware of her. "I have been sent by the Prime Reaper,"she sent out to them but only silence met her subliminal transmission. She met Kahmal's gaze. “They are suspicious of me." "And rightly so,” Kahmal said. Continuing on to the master control room where several guards sat before a bank of vid-coms that looked into each Reaper cell, the Major reached into the pocket of her uniform coat and produced the

authorization signed by the Militaire for her to question the Reapers. She handed the paperwork to the Chief Guard whose duty it was to monitor the prisoners. "I don't know what you expect to glean from them, Major,” the Chief Guard said. “They were questioned at length when they were arrested but none of them gave us any information at all. They know their execution day draws near so they'll be even less likely to answer your questions." Sern was standing off to one side, searching the vid-com screens for the man who had ordered his Reapers to silence. She could pluck no stray thoughts from the Reapers who were staring into the vid-com cameras with unblinking eyes. "Who is the leader among them?” Kahmal asked. "That would be Taegin Kullen,” the Chief Guard answered and pointed to the vid-com screen on the far left. “He is the senior among them." Kahmal and Sern walked over to the monitor that showed a scowling face glaring back at them. "Captain Kullen,” Kahmal said, “I am Major Akkadia Kahmal of the Amazeen Elite Strike Force. The woman beside me is my second-in-command, Lt. Cirolla Sern." The Reaper said nothing, only continued to stare into the camera, a muscle working in his lean jaw. "It was our mission to go after the Prime Reaper Kamerone Cree and to return him to Rysalia Prime for execution. We fulfilled our mission and have returned with Cree who is imprisoned in the cage where your bloodsire met his fate." Sern felt the weight of Taegin Kullen's fury sweep over her as he invaded her mind, searching for the truth of Kahmal's words. She staggered beneath the onslaught, reaching out to grab Kahmal for support. Instantly, she used that portion of her mind that was not under attack to call out to him, begging for his forbearance. "We are here to free you and your kin,"Sern sent to him, but his anger nearly drove her to her knees and she slapped her hands to her head with the pain of his assault. "What ails your lieutenant?” the Chief Guard asked, her hand going to the laser weapon at her waist. "She has a disorder of the central nervous system. I fear she is about to convulse and lose consciousness. Quickly, help me to lay her down on the floor!” Kahmal shouted. The Chief Guard frowned, but she did as Kahmal ordered. Sern was jerking about with the invasion of her mind, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Here!” one of the guards said, handing Kahmal her belt. At the Major's confused look, the woman said it was to keep the lieutenant from swallowing her tongue. Kahmal's face turned red, but she took the belt and forced Sern's jaw open, wedging the belt between the young woman's lips. "There is nothing wrong with you, bitch!"

The words thundered in Sern's mind. She felt the hold on her mind lessen, and she stopped shuddering, her eyes fluttering open to stare up at Kahmal with shock. She had not expected the Reapers to assail her and had been unprepared. Kahmal shifted her attention from Sern's pale face to the smirk that was registering on Taegin Kullen's. The Reaper was standing in the center of his cell—his arms crossed over his bare chest—and staring steadily at the vid-com camera. "We are not your enemies,"Sern sent to him. She heard a distinct snort in her mind. "All women are our enemies,"Kullen snarled. "He said to remind you he is still in charge and that I am his voice in this place." There came another snort of derision. "Is she all right now?” the Chief Guard inquired. Kahmal was helping Sern sit up. “I fear seeing these beasts brought on her disorder,” the Major said. “I should not have brought her with me." "Aye, well, anyone seeing them for the first time has a strange reaction to them,” the Chief Guard replied. “It's good they will be meeting the Gatherer soon." "That isn't going to happen,"Sern said as Kahmal helped her to her feet. "Is that so?"Taegin threw at her. "You will find out, now won't you, you arrogant prick?” Sern said and shut down her mind as tight as she knew how. Kahmal watched Kullen's face turn as hard as flint. Whatever Sern had said to him infuriated him for his amber eyes flared and he uncrossed his arms, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. "Please, get me out of here, Major,” Sern said. “I am not well." It was obvious to Kahmal that the Reaper was trying to send sublims to Sern, but she was keeping him locked out of her mind. The strain of such an undertaking was obvious on her face and she did, indeed, look unwell. "I will be back to interrogate the Reapers in a few minutes,” Kahmal said, casting Kullen an amused look. "Don't do us any favors!” Kullen shouted. When the women were beyond Kullen's ability to sense them, he let out a howl of rage. "Who was that?"Ghrian Tohre demanded."Could she truly have been sent by the Prime?" "Of course not!"Kullen snapped."It is a trap!"

"Why would it be, Kullen?"Eachan Gehdrin asked. "To get us to tell them where Sajin and Khiershon are,"Kullen reminded them. "But we don't know where they are,"Toryn Belial stated. "We can't tell what we don't know,"Killian Kiel spoke up. "I sensed something about the woman ... , “Comyn Coure began then his voice faded. Kullen flung himself down on his uncomfortable bunk. He had heard no word from Rylan's twin, Braiden Cree, or from the other sons of the Prime, Corydon, and Kaelan, the youngest of the Cree's bloodsons. "What say you bloodsons of the Prime?"Kullen demanded. It was Corydon who answered for his bloodbrothers."The woman was speaking the truth. She was sent from our bloodsire." "I do not agree!"Kullen spat. "If you had been a less arrogant prick as she named you,"Rylan Cree joined in,"you would have recognized her as his emissary." "She lies!"Kullen snarled. "Did you catch the scent, Rylan?"Braiden Cree asked his twin. "Aye, I caught it,"Rylan answered. "So did I,"young Kaelan admitted. "The question is did Kullen catch it?"Corydon asked."That was the first thing I noticed." "Aye, the scent!"Coure said."That was what I detected about the woman! She had the Prime's scent on her!" Kullen had, indeed, caught the scent of Reaper coming through the slot. The smell was all over one of the women. It was not a scent he recognized from among the other cadets he'd met over the years. He would know their blood scent seeping through their pores—just as he would be able to find them wherever they went through their exchanges of blood with him during training. What he had experienced was an aroma of powerful, dominant blood and there was only one man to whom such a scent could belong for there was only one of the seven original Reapers still alive. "It could be a trap,"Kullen defended his judgment. "Listen to the Amazeen Major when she returns,"Rylan advised his bloodkin."If she has the psychic one with her, I will question her. I will know if what she says is true or false." "I will question her,"Kullen snapped. "No,"Corydon stated. “You will keep out of it."

"I doubt she will pay you any notice after the way you treated her anyway,"Rylan added. The other Reapers agreed Kullen was to take a back seat to Rylan in the questioning of the one known as Sern. Although he was chaffing at the bit not to be in charge, Kullen agreed to the plan by keeping silent the rest of the morning. He pouted—if a Reaper could be said to pout—listening to his bloodkin speculating about the woman supposedly sent by the Prime. He didn't trust her and if it was the last thing he did, he was going to make her pay for calling him a prick. **** Sern sat down on the rim of the Reflecting Pool of Alel's Force that had been re-christened the Reflecting Pool of Women's Empowerment. Unknowingly, she sat in the exact same place where once Kamerone Cree had sat as he contemplated the punishment the Court of Military Justice had handed down to him. She did not see Cree watching her, a bemused smile on his chiseled lips, but she could feel his light scan of her mind and was annoyed. "Get the hell out of my head, Reaper!” she snarled beneath her breath. “I've had enough Reaper shit for one day!" Kahmal stood beside Sern, looking over her head toward the cage in the plaza. It was too far away to see Cree's expression but she got the sense that he was laughing. “What happened in there?” she asked Sern. "Kullen is an arrogant, self-important son-of-a-jackal!"Sern charged. "Son of a wolf, actually,"Cree corrected her but Sern ignored him. "Kullen hurt me,” Sern complained. "Oh,” Kahmal said. She took a seat next to Sern. “I take it he didn't believe we were there to help." "That man can fry for all I care,” Sern said. “Cree or no Cree!” She reached up to rub at the pain that was still lingering in her head. "I'll punish him for hurting you, wench,"Cree sent to her in a soft voice. "You'd better!” Sern said aloud and Kahmal knew she was conversing with the Prime Reaper. "Count on it." Somewhat mollified, Sern relaxed, staring down into the still waters of the pool. “When are you going back in there, Kahmal?” she asked. "Whenever you feel up to it." Her shoulders slumping, Sern let out a long breath. “Might as well be now and get it over with but if that bastard attacks me again, I..." "He'd better not,"Cree warned in a voice that made Sern shudder."Tell him he will answer to me for his stupidity and remind him I spread my scent on Kahmal so he would know I am here."

Feeling more secure, Sern got up, dusted off the seat of her uniform slacks, and fell into step beside Kahmal. Now that she knew what might be thrown at her from Taegin Kullen, she was better prepared to meet the man's attack. This time, he might find himself on the receiving end of a mind-fuck, she thought, a tight grin on her pretty face. **** Rylan listened intently to the questions the Amazeen Major was asking Taegin but another part of his mind was on the one called Sern. The younger woman had sealed her thoughts carefully against any casual scan and even a deeper one came up against a blank gray wall that the Reaper was surprised to find could not be scaled. He tried several times to get past her security blocks but could not. At last, he gave in, hanging his head, knowing she would now come to him. "You give up too easily, Reaper." Rylan's lips twitched. “It was not my intent to invade, wench, but to ask entrance." "Unlike your conceited bloodcousin,"Sern grumbled. "Kullen can be a bit pigheaded,"Rylan admitted. Sern made no comment to his assessment of his kin. She waited for him to speak his mind. "I am Rylan, bloodson of Kamerone. Kullen sensed his presence. How is the Prime?"he asked. "Angry at being brought back to this place,"Sern told him."And anxious to leave when we have the ten of you with us." "And how are you planning to accomplish that feat, wench?" Sern shifted her eyes among the vid-coms until she found the one under which she saw Rylan Cree's name."You do not need to know the particulars," she told him. “Only that you will not meet the fate reserved for you. You need to be prepared to go with whatever happens." Rylan Cree was sitting on his bunk, his hands to either side of him, fingers curled over the edge of the bunk. He was a handsome man—Sern knew he would have to be since he was a bloodson of Kamerone—but he did not have the same imposing authority of his bloodsire. "I've not had his challenges or troubles, either,"he told Sern, intercepting her wayward thought. "Troubles make the man, eh?"Sern questioned. "Or breaks him,"another voice spoke up and she realized it was another of Kamerone's bloodsons. "I doubt anything could break your bloodsire,” Sern said."Are you Braiden?" "Corydon,"was the reply. "I am Braiden,"another said. "And I am Kaelan, youngest of the Prime."

"No longer the youngest,"Sern said and put a smile in her voice."You have a brother named Jaelin on Terra." "Did you hear that, Kiel? There is a Reaper even younger than you!"Kaelan shouted so loud every Reaper winced and Sern squeezed her eyes closed at the pain. "Curb your enthusiasm for the wench's lies, young Cree,"Kullen growled. "I've news for you, you arrogant bastard,"Sern shouted in her own mind voice."Cree promised me he would punish you for hurting me and what Cree promises, he delivers! He told me to remind you that you have his scent and his promise to punish your stupidity." There were chuckles flitting through Sern's mind along with a vulgarity that made her ears burn. She glanced at Kahmal and found the major frowning at her. "I am finished with my interrogation,” Kahmal told the Chief Guard. “You were right. I have learned nothing from these beasts." "Tell her Corydon, son of Kamerone, would love to teach her some things that would curl that pretty red hair of hers,"Corydon whispered to Sern. Sern smiled, switching her gaze to the vid-com where Corydon was grinning broadly. “You are his bloodson, all right,"she told him and she saw him wink. Which she glanced at Taegin Kullen's snarling face she almost laughed aloud. Once outside the Titaness, Sern could not hold in her mirth and told Kahmal what Corydon Cree had whispered to her. Kahmal stopped, looked down at Sern with an eyebrow cocked. “He said that?" Sern nodded. The Amazeen Major wasn't exactly pleased with the Reaper's words but then neither was she displeased. For the remainder of the day, she would be unable to get those sensuous words out of her mind and the image of Corydon Cree flitted unbidden from time to time. The Prime Reaper was not in the cage when the women walked over to Fleet Command headquarters. Relieved to find out Chanz and Aegean had taken Cree to Dr. Kym's office, Kahmal asked Tyrian if she, Deon and Aegean had had any luck in disabling the ships in the docking bays when they took theAlluvia in for refueling that morning. Tyrian shook her head. “Their security is very strict. We were watched very closely and weren't allowed off the ship while it was being provisioned. It's already in its docking harness and we were sent back here by shuttle." "So much for making sure we aren't followed when we leave,” Kahmal said. A thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. “They are going to allow us back on the ship this evening, aren't they?" "They weren't going to but Chanz argued we had nowhere else to sleep with every available room on Rysalia Prime booked for the Feast. They grumbled about it, but we have a shuttle at our disposal,” Tyrian replied.

"When did Chanz and Aegean take Cree to Kym's?” Kahmal asked. "Just a few minutes ago. Dr. Kym's secretary was furious with us that we weren't here when she came looking for us the first time. I explained we were seeing to the ship but that didn't seem to cut any ice with that Chrystallusian dwarf,” Tyrian complained. "At least we know our Reaper is in friendly hands,” Kahmal said. "What about Ceatie?” Sern asked, concerned with the old weretiger's wellbeing. Tyrian's face broke out into a grin. “He was sitting in your chair in front of the computer. I warned the provisionaries not to provoke him and he responded by giving them a nasty snarl. I don't think anyone will try to access our data banks with him guarding the terminal." "Good boy, Ceatie,” Sern said and she sensed the weretiger's grunt of acknowledgement. "Were you able to communicate with the Reaper cadets, ‘Lia?” Tyrian asked. "They know something is being planned and they accept that we are on the up and up. Kullen still has his doubts but whom the hell cares?” Sern replied. “He'll go along with the other cadets." "His bloodsire was a brutal man,” Kahmal said, having thoroughly studied the files on the original seven Reapers. She met Sern's eyes. “And Kullen killed several Terran women in his day. Let us hope his bloodson isn't of the same bent." "Cree will bring that bastard to his knees for hurting me,” Sern asserted. “This I know!" Kahmal smiled. “I've no doubt of that, ‘Lia."

Chapter Fourteen Cree was once more in shackles but the bands were loose on his wrists. He walked between Chanz and Aegean, who kept their hands on his upper arms. As he passed down the corridor of the Fleet Command, women were standing in the doorways, watching him. Not a sound followed in his wake and the few times he looked to his watchers, he did not see the hatred he had expected to see on their faces. The women's silence and their still faces unnerved him more than had they been cursing him or glaring in his direction. None of them ran from him or hid at his approach. They simply watched him as he passed. "What is wrong with this picture?” he muttered to himself. Shei-Ling, the Auxiliary Prophetess’ secretary met them at the door to her office and bowed slightly. “Her Grace asks that you go right in, milord.” She stepped aside, sweeping her hand toward Kym's inner office. LeJong Kym was seated at her desk, her fingers laced upon the uncluttered surface. There was a slight smile on her face. “Come in, Kamerone,” she bid. She turned her dark brown eyes on Chanz. “Remove his fetters, lieutenant. He poses no threat to me.” She looked back at Cree. “Do you, milord Reaper?" "No, milady,” Cree agreed. “I do not."

Chanz let go of Cree's arm and unlocked his shackles, briefly meeting his gaze as she stepped back, saluted, then she and Aegean exited the office behind Shei-Ling, who closed the door firmly behind them. "Sit down, please,” Kym said. The Prime Reaper took his seat before Kym's desk and made himself comfortable. He had no idea why he'd been summoned but any time spent outside the cage was to be treasured. He massaged his wrists slowly. "Let me begin by telling you this office is secure,” Kym told him. “What we say here remains here." He nodded, expecting nothing less. "You are looking well,” she said. “Perhaps a bit thinner than when I last saw you, but healthy." "Had it been left to Sejm, such would not have been the case, I assure you,” he said. "Ah, yes, Sejm.” Kym sat back in her chair. “I should be sorry to hear of her passing but I can not seem to dredge forth the necessary regret." "She has died?" "So the goddess tells me,” Kym replied. "I'm sure someone, somewhere will mourn her passing,” Cree said. "Would you care to wager on that?” Kym asked, her eyes twinkling. "Perhaps Tylan Kahn?” he suggested. "Perhaps, but even that is doubtful." They were silent for a moment, each looking at the other, speculation sparking in their gazes. "You weren't happy on Terra, were you, Kamerone?” she finally asked. "I was happy being with Bridget,” he replied. “I was happy at the birth of my son." "Kamerone might have been happy,” she said, “but the Reaper in you was miserable." "You can't separate Kamerone from the Reaper,” he said quietly. She smiled. “Don't be so sure." He crossed his right leg over his left, bracing his ankle on his knee, curling his fingers over his shin. “Why did you send for me, LeJong?” he asked. "For several reasons, actually, but first things first.” She leaned back in her leather chair, swiveling it slightly away from the desk. “I want to assure you when the time comes, you will leave Rysalia Prime—with your bloodkin—in safety, and there will be no retrieval teams sent to bring you back this

time." "It didn't seem to me the Prophetess-Mother had any intention of allowing that to happen,” he remarked. "The Prophetess-Mother is getting on in years and her health is growing worse by the day.” A glint formed in Kym's dark eyes. “History might prove it to be something she ate that was her undoing." Cree stared at her for a moment then nodded slowly. “'If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?'” he quoted. "'And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?'” Kym finished the quote from the Terran called Shakespeare. "How did she wrong you?” he asked. "She tried to kill the man I love,” Kym answered. “She was responsible for lies being told to him, for him being cheated of his rightful reward, and she tried to have him hanged. For that, she has been paying since the day he left Rysalia Prime and eventually she will give her life in exchange for her treachery." "Do I know this man, LeJong?” he asked quietly. "I would venture to say you see him each time you look into a mirror, Kamerone,” she answered. He didn't know what to say to her admission. When he would have spoken, she held up her hand to silence him. "It is enough that you know I have deep feelings for you,” she stated. “Let it go at that.” She sat forward in her chair again, braced her elbows on her desk, and threaded her fingers together. “Now, let's get back to business." "Do you want to go with us when we leave for Terra?” he asked. Kym laughed. “Oh, my, no! My destiny is here as the new Prophetess-Mother when Cyle Acet has shuffled off this mortal coil." "But if it is discovered you helped us..." She waved a dismissive hand. “Don't worry about me, Kamerone. When all is said and done, there will be no one left to cause me harm. I am quite content to remain on Rysalia Prime and live out my days as a benevolent, fair, and compassionate Prophetess-Mother. Under my guidance, I will see our planet into the glory it deserves, sitting side by side with the other worlds in peace and prosperity." "And you plan on having the support you will need?” he asked, his eyes giving evidence of his concern for her. "I will,” she assured him. “How many enraged women have you seen casting curses upon you, Reaper?" "Only a few." "A very few,” she corrected. “And each of them in the employ and under the iron fist of Cyle Acet. The rest of us know well what you sacrificed for us and only one other—like myself—know the price you

paid was more than even you could have guessed." He frowned. “I don't understand." Kym stood up and came around the desk. “Come with me, Kamerone,” she said, reaching her hand out to him. Cree got up and clasped her hand in his, surprised at the strength in so small a hand as she gripped him. She led him to a door that sat off to one side of her office. A fingerprint scanner panel lit up as she placed her palm flat against its opaque screen. The door slid open to reveal a long, dark corridor. "We had a hell of a time breaking the code to open this door,” Kym told him. “You do know whose office this was before the rebellion?" "One of the Chief Justices if memory serves,” he replied. "Aye. Your old nemesis Trae Onar,” she supplied the name. Cree thought fleetingly of the man who had ordered his torture on several occasions. “I hope the bastard is dead." "Oh, he is,” Kym said. “Long before you ever fled Rysalian air space he took his last hateful breath.” She reached inside the corridor and touched a light pad. What Cree had perceived at first to be a long, dark corridor was in actuality a narrow room filled on three sides by floor to ceiling shelves. On the shelves was row after row of numbered black metal boxes. "The boxes are lead-lined, earthquake-, flood-, and fireproof,” Kym said as she led him into the room. “What we have here is the repository of Rysalian history and top secret files only a very few men were ever privileged to see. Some of these files are ancient and on antiquated memory disks.” She let go of his hand and took down a box from midway the first wall of boxes. She handed it to him and reached for another, stacking it atop the other in his hands. The boxes, though small, were heavy due to the lead lining. "How many boxes are there?” he asked. "Well over a thousand,” she answered, motioning for him to exit the room. Back in her office, Kym closed the door to the secret archive and went back to her chair. She waited until Cree had deposited the boxes on her desk and returned to his seat. "When the Daughters took over Fleet Command Headquarters, we were assigned offices as befitted our position within the Multitude. Hael Sejm was given this office and I was given one further down the hall. When Sejm was having her new furniture installed she noticed one of the wall panels did not seem to be flush with the rest of the wall. When she ran her hand over it, she realized it was not stationary. Upon closer inspection, she found the panel could be pushed to one aside—sliding behind the panel next to it—and when she did this, she found the door to the hidden archives." "It seems a strange place for such a thing,” Cree observed. "Indeed it does, but the contents of the archive were not meant to be found so easily. As I said, it took

months for our engineers to find a way to open that door. Now, only I can gain access to it." "How many women know of its existence?" "Only four of us,” she answered. “Sejm is no longer with us and Acet will join her soon in whatever hell the goddess has prepared for them." "Who is the fourth?” he asked. “Is she trustworthy?" Kym's face broke into a wide grin. “Do you remember Sister Mary Joseph Kelly?” she asked. Cree's forehead crinkled for a moment then the memory of the nun he had abducted from Terra flitted across his mind's eye. **** "I think I'm going to enjoy this,” the old woman had said. "I'll do my best to see that you do,” Cree had been shocked to hear himself say. "What's your name, lad?” she'd asked, smiling at him. "Cree,” he had replied. He surprised himself again when he realized he was smiling back at her. "Cree what?" "Kamerone Cree,” he told her. "That sounds like a good Celtic name,” she had concluded. “I like it. He had laughed. “I'll tell my father you approve,” he responded and ignored the stunned looks of his crew. He'd held out his hand. “Now, let's get you settled in the sleep unit." **** "She joined the Multitude?” he asked, surprised the religious would do such a thing. "No, but she holds a high position in our new government. She is well respected by Terrans and others alike." "I can understand that,” he said. “I liked her." "And she has great fondness for what she calls her Celtic warrior,” Kym told him. "Bridget would be happy to know the nun is well.” He glanced at the boxes. “Does the good Sister know what those boxes contain?" "She does. Sejm and Acet could not have cared less about Rysalian history,” Kym said. “Once I read a few of the archives, I saw no reason to share the knowledge with either Sejm or Acet." Cree felt a cold finger scraping down his spine. “I take it what is in the boxes pertain to me." "To you,” she stated. “To all Reapers, including the cadets imprisoned here as well as those who were

executed right after the rebellion.” She reached across the desk toward him and when he took her hand, she squeezed his fingers. “I tried to talk sense into Acet and Sejm, but they insisted on executing your bloodkin. The fever pitch was high on Rysalia Prime and the women were celebrating their freedom from the Empire. Sanity would not return to the Daughters for several weeks. If I could have saved your kin, please know that I would have. Sejm was furious the virus had no effect on the cadets." "I bear you no blame for what happened to my kin,” he said. “I do not agree with the course the rebellion took, but I can understand the anger felt by the women." "An anger they have begun to bitterly regret,” Kym said. “There are less than two dozen men on Rysalia Prime—including you and the cadets—and over twenty thousand women in the city alone. That doesn't take into consideration those women housed on the abandoned space stations or on the satellite moons. They are beginning to realize what a lonely point in space this has become.” She shrugged. “They now know how the Rysalian males felt when all their women died when the retrovirus was inadvertently released." "So what do you do now?” he asked as she released his hand and sat back in her chair. Kym shrugged. “We do what the Empire did except this time around it will be men brought to Rysalia Prime instead of women and the men will be asked, not abducted. We are in contact with Storia which has an overabundance of men to women as well as do the Amhantareans. They both seem a hardy bunch." "And if they don't want to come here? What then?" A long sigh undulated from the Chrystallusian woman's lips. “Then I suppose we will have to rethink the abducting part." "And become like the Amazeen,” he said. "I don't believe it will come to that but we won't know until we try. Never again will we women allow this world to become a male-dominated place of slavery and despair." Cree stared at the etched numbers on the front of the black metal boxes. “Okay, so what's in there?” he asked. "Things you should have been told long ago,” Kym answered. “Revelations that will change your life forever, Kamerone." The cold finger of dread scratched deeply into his spine and he fidgeted in the chair. “Why do I feel as though that change might not be for the better?" "It is all in the perspective,” Kym said and tilted her head to one side when he laughed. “You find that amusing?" He shook his head. “No, it's just that Dorrie said the same thing to me when I was complaining about all the women I'd suddenly inherited on theAlluvia ." "An interesting woman is one of those,” Kym said. “I had a long talk with the Necromanian princess. She is a most remarkable woman."

"Zainabu?” Kamerone queried. He wanted to know when Kym had spoken to the Necromani for he hadn't seen her leave theAlluvia before it was transported to the docking bay. "She is the betrothed of Prince Lares Taborn is she not?” Kym asked. “She will Join with him when she reaches Terra." Cree squirmed in his chair. “Actually, no, she won't.” His face took on a pained look. “He's already Joined with Beryla Dean. Legally under Terran law." Kym's lips parted in an ‘o’ of surprise. “That doesn't bode well for Beryla,” she said. “Zainabu is a warrioress." "Aye,” Cree said. “I'm all too aware of that. Where is she now?" "We have a few Necromanian women here. She went to meet with them and took along the two Ionarians.” Kym frowned. “I don't care for those two." "You spoke to them, as well?” he asked. "Briefly,” Kym said. “Not overly bright women but then Ionarians as a whole aren't particularly intelligent beings." "May I ask why you spoke to them?" "Do you think I would leave your safety in unknown hands, Kamerone?” she countered. “I wanted to be sure the three of them were as committed to you and your escape as are the Amazeens and Dorrie. Oh, by the way...” She leaned back and opened a desk drawer, taking out a small leather box and placing it on the desktop. “I have already given one of these to the Necromani and had one taken to Dorrie in her cell. The Ionarians will not be leaving with you when the time comes. Because they aren't, I am having them watched closely. I want no loose lips giving away the plan. I have one each for Kahmal and her crew.” She opened the box and withdrew a thin golden chain upon which hung a small disk. She handed it to him. “Put this on and under no circumstances remove it. Hide it beneath your jumpsuit." He looked down at the disk upon which strange symbols had been engraved. “What is it?" "It is a locator. I will hand the codes for each locator over to Kahmal in the morning. All she will need to do is plug in those codes in her retrieval bank and no matter where any of you are on this planet you can be transported to theAlluvia without interference." "A very handy little gadget,” he said and hooked the gold chain over his head and tucked the medal inside the front of his jumpsuit. "Now, I am going to leave you alone with my computer for awhile,” Kym said, getting up from behind her desk. “When you have scanned the information in those two boxes—start with the lower numbered one first and read the data in order as you find it; you'll know what needs to be read and what doesn't—you can have Shei-Ling find me. It shouldn't take you more than an hour." "Do you need to leave?" "I don't want to be here to see your face as you read,” she said.

He frowned. “Is it that bad?" "Bad enough, Kamerone,” she said as she came around the desk. She hesitated then bent down to plant a kiss on his forehead. “And when you've read what is in the boxes, there is somewhere I need to take you. The password is Resuello, by the way.” She spelled the word for him so there would be no mistake. Long after Kym had left the room, Cree sat staring at the boxes. He wasn't sure he wanted to open them. In his youth, he had devoured the history and literature of Terra and the myth of Pandora's Box was uppermost in his mind. He remembered all too well how all the ills, crimes, diseases, and sorrows of mankind had flown from the box when it had been opened and he feared he was about to unleash something he could never control. He leaned forward in his chair and slid the higher numbered box from the lower. Just touching the thing sent a faint electric shock down his arm. He knew that was nothing but his nerves playing tricks on him but nevertheless it added to his unease. He was getting a headache and he reached up to rub the pain over his right eye for a long time, staring intently at the boxes. When at last his curiosity got the better of him, he plucked the lower numbered box from the desk and set it in his lap. His face was set, his jaw clenched, as he thumbed the lid up and looked inside, flinching as though he expected a swarm of stinging insects to flood from the interior as it had from Pandora's chest. There were eight two inch square black computer disklettes lying in a thick foam pad, each disklette pressed into its own cushioned bed. There were two rows of the disklettes and each bore a different name. The disklette bearing Kamerone Cree's name was the second from the left on the top row. The top left label read Dr. Dearing Noah Jarl. Just staring at that name made the hairs on the back of Cree's neck stand up. His fingers hovered over the Jarl disklette for a long time before he finally plucked it from its foam bed. Not giving himself time to balk, he got up from his chair, took the metal box with him, and sat down at Kym's computer. Placing the box beside the keyboard, he placed the disklette into its designated slot on the CPU, his hand shaking as he reached for the electronic device that controlled the coordinates of the cursor on the vid-com screen. A bright red screen appeared on the vid-com with the wordWarning! in bold red letters. Under that word was a prohibition as to who could view the file on the disklette, restricting its contents to Level 9 and Above Justices. A password box pulsed at the bottom right corner of the screen. Cree put his hands on the keyboard, hesitated for a second or two then typed in Resuello. The first thing that popped up on the screen was an official photograph of Dr. Dearing Noah Jarl. Beneath his name were the dates of his birth and death. There was something about the photograph of the scientist that unnerved Cree. A vague memory from his childhood stirred and left him feeling sick to his stomach, his palms oozing with sweat. His headache had intensified, the hearing in his right ear muted because of the pain. He felt cold—something totally alien to a man whose normal body temperature was extraordinarily high at all times. The next page in the file was a short biography of Jarl: his early education, higher education, and his subsequent assignment to the Bioengineering Labs on Rysalia Prime where the main thrust of his work dealt with enhancing the physical and mental abilities of military subjects placed under his control. Going back to the photograph page Cree knew he was looking at the man who had been responsible for his placement in the Bio lab when he was born. He stared into the long-dead eyes and felt anger wash

over him in waves. The unconcerned stare from the piercing blue eyes seemed to bore right into Cree's soul. There was no compassion in that hawk like gaze, no sympathy or kindness; only a cold, calculating glint that brought a slight elevation to the right side of Jarl's thin lips so that the scientist seemed to be smirking at the vid-cam. This was the man who had been responsible for untold pain and misery that Cree had undergone from the day he was born. Because of Jarl, he had been taken straight from his mother's dead body and placed in an incubator, kept away from all human contact. Only faceless, sexless, impersonal cybots had cared for him as an infant and those same emotionless, detached automatons had trained him as a toddler, punishing him severely, ruthlessly if he uttered one sob or even if he dared to smile. The A.I.U.s had been the only companionship he had known until he reached his fifth birthday and was turned over to the Ministry of Science. There he had undergone countless excruciating and debilitating tests that had turned his body into a mass of bruises, welts, and hives that had left him writhing in pain. One such test had nearly killed him, pitching his body into anaphylactic shock. Cree passed a trembling hand over his damp face as he remembered the agony he had endured from the drugs the scientists had pumped into his young body. Unable to express any emotion that would help relieve his suffering, he had endured it while his soul slowly withered within him. "Endure, boy!” one scientist had screamed at him. “Endure!" And he had, Cree thought as he felt tears pricking his eyes. He had had no choice but to endure what they had done to him. Moving away from the photograph of Jarl, Cree skimmed over the rest of the scientist's biography and credentials and found a photo of his laboratory staff. Scanning the faces, the Reaper recognized several of the torturers who had made his childhood a living nightmare. He advanced the file, hating the sight of those faces that had hurt him so deeply. At the top of the next page was the word Resuello, followed by a date a few years earlier than the day on which Cree had been born. He started to bypass what appeared to be a long narrative but one word caught his immediate attention: parasite. Something whispered to the Reaper not to go any further, to leave well enough alone. The revenant worm inside him shifted over his right kidney but the movement did not cause him the normal pain such an action usually brought. Burying his face in his sweaty hands, Cree squeezed his eyes shut and sat with his elbows on the computer desk. His breathing was ragged and his headache had become an agonizing throb pounding at his right temple. Steeling himself, he opened his eyes, lifted his head, put his hand on the mouse, and began scrolling down the page, reading every word. It was a page from Jarl's personal journal. **** As a reward for all the hard work I had been putting in with the military subjects, I was given a ten-day pass to use as I saw fit. Needing a respite from my work as well as from the nagging of my wife and the intrusion of my offspring, I took Brídín, my faithful spaniel, and headed for Meiriceá in the Aneas Quadrant. Since botany is a hobby of mine, I had long wanted to investigate the flora and fauna of the rainforests of Resuello, deep in the verdant green mountains of Meiriceá. The day was overcast—as are most of the days in that humid part of the planet. A light rain was falling but it was not enough to prevent me from venturing out to collect specimens that intrigued

me. Brídín was romping ahead of me—chasing brilliantly hued butterflies and flushing vibrantly-colored birds from their nests. The canine was having as much fun among the lush greenness as was I. Unfortunately, that fun was to end tragically for Brídín. I remember seeing the canine sniffing the plant. It was a fern-like growth, low to the ground, with several spiky stalks jutting up from the center of spiky, serrated-edged fronds. Upon each stalk was a large round seedpod with what resembled a small crown sitting atop the pale green pod. I distinctly recall thinking at the time the stalk and pod looked like a king's royal scepter. I made a mental note to investigate the pods later and continued on with what I was studying. As I gathered a unique orchid for my collection, Brídín began sneezing violently. I turned to see a cloud of what I realized must be spores drifting up from the plant the canine had been sniffing. Brídín was inhaling the spores and with every breath he took, the sneezing became more prolonged and violent. Calling him away from the plant, I saw he was bleeding from the eyes and nostrils. I picked him up and hurried back to the shuttle, hoping what he had inhaled was not deadly. Racing back to Rysalia Prime, I realized my hopes were to be cruelly dashed and in a way no mortal man could have envisioned. Let me state here that at no time was there a danger to anyone other than me. What Brídín had inhaled in the rainforest had not entered my respiratory tract and when I arrived back on Rysalia Prime, I transported the canine and myself directly to my laboratory and commenced to lock down all entry to it. Placing Brídín in a secure environment, I stripped down and entered the decontamination chamber to be on the safe side. Nothing suspicious appeared on the scans of my body and clothing so I felt some relief though I was worried sick about my pet. Brídín was roaming around his secure environment as though drugged and my heart was breaking as I watched him. He ran into the walls, fell down, and had difficulty scrambling to his feet again. His eyes and nostrils had ceased to bleed but he was hassling as though he was either in great pain or was overheated. A scan of the canine's internal organs revealed a shocking discovery. The unknown spores had invaded his bloodstream and were multiplying at a rapid rate. It became obvious to me the spores were of a virulent variety and the inhalation of them by humanoids might have devastating consequences. In my wildest nightmares I could not have imagined just how disturbing those consequences would become. Later that night, Brídín began to change before my very eyes. He started to convulse, falling to his side, howling in agony, his paws flailing in the air. His bones began to crack, to elongate, his flesh turning to a leathery consistency, and his canine shape evolving into that more of a lupine creature. What had once been a very tame, gentle animal became a ravaging beast with glowing red eyes, sharp claws, and even sharper fangs that tried savagely to get out through the bars of the secure environment. I had no doubt had Brídín been able to break free of his enclosure he would have attacked me without fail. I sat by his cage with my face in my hands, crying so hard I developed a brutal headache. Feeling great remorse at what had become of my beloved pet, I knew the best thing to do was to put Brídín out of his misery. Taking up my laser rifle, I shot him, crying the entire time I attempted to put him down. But the canine did not die. Seven times I shot him at close range but I could not kill the beast. I did manage to knock him out with a high-powered narcotic dart and as he lay unconscious I made the most devastating decision of my life. I decided to spray him with a quick-acting combustible and set fire to it. I was in agony as I was forced to end my pet's life. I sat by his cage until his body was nothing but a charred husk. But Brídín—at least a part of my beloved Brídín—was still not dead. From out of the smoldering carcass of the canine something crawled and lay there slithering on the floor.

Stunned, I jumped up and grabbed my laser rifle, intent on killing this strange creature that had been inside Brídín. I lifted the weapon to my shoulder but something stayed my hand. I lowered the rifle, took up a large beaker, entered the cage, and using the rifle barrel scooped the thing inside. A part of me wanted to know what this thing was that had caused my pet's agony and how it had changed him to a ravaging beast. Note: I would later discover the highly toxic spores that had infected Brídín were from a strange fungus that grew upon those seedpods on Resuello and not from the pods themselves as I originally thought. I later went back to Resuello and harvested several of the plants that had started it all. I could not identify the fungus growing on the plants; it was unlike anything I'd ever come across. This fungus—like all fungi—reproduced by scattering thousands of spores. Upon each spore, there was a strange microscopic growth and it was this growth that had infected Brídín and that had grown to maturity inside him. I gave the plant a name: lycant and have since issued warnings that this plant is deadly and have advised Fleet Command to eradicate all traces of it. **** Cree shuddered. There was no doubt in his mind that the parasites Jarl had discovered on Resuello were related to the ones residing in his body. He felt the Queen move and instinctively reached behind him to put his hand on his back, still expecting pain but the pain did not come. The creature coiled and uncoiled, shifted, but it did not hurt him in the process. There were two more journal pages but the Reaper could not bring himself to read the entries. He removed the disklette from its drive and returned it to its foam-cushioned slot. He sat there staring at the disklette with his name on it—knowing that what he might discover on it would turn his world upside down. He was sitting there an hour later, his heart pounding in his chest, the disklette still in its slot, when Kym came quietly into the room. He said nothing as she laid her hands on his shoulders. "How much have you read?” she asked and when he answered in a low voice, her hands slid over his shoulders to his chest and she pulled him back against her and held him in her arms. "Tell me,” he whispered, unaware of her hands on him. Kym took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "The journal goes on to explain the arrival of two scientists named Coden Sejm and Barriq Cean,” she told him. “Sejm was from Diabolusia but there is no mention of from where Cean had come. They were both genetic engineers. Sejm had been carrying on stem cell research in Diabolusia ... which is against the laws of that world ... and had fled before he could be sent to prison for what he was doing. It appears Cean had a hand in helping Sejm escape. They came to Rysalia Prime and were welcomed here with open arms." "Figures,” Cree said. "The powers in charge afforded them every luxury in exchange for them continuing their research on Rysalia Prime." "Sejm,” Cree said, the word distasteful in his mouth. “Was Hael his woman?" Kym laughed. “She would have liked to have been but he wanted no part of her or any other woman for that matter. From what I read between the lines, he and Cean were lovers. Hael took his last name wanting others to believe he had favored her."

"She worked with him?" Kym nodded. “Indeed she did, but that was later on. She started out working with Cean" "What transpired after they came to work here?" "It was inevitable that Jarl, Sejm, and Cean would meet. Jarl told them about what he had discovered on Resuello and the three of them began experimenting with the parasite's DNA. Apparently Cean was not unfamiliar with the spores. The team worked with mice at first, genetically modifying the embryonic stem cells. The altered cells were implanted into ablastocyst —an embryo—which was in turn then implanted into the uterus of a mouse. I won't bore you with the protocols and such but let it suffice to say the men were able to create a mouse that was stronger, more intelligent, more cunning, and far more vicious than the other mice. It was also capable of transforming into something neither man could adequately describe." "A type of killer mice,” he said softly. "Aye,” Kym agreed. “They moved on to dogs then apes, genetically modifying the DNA of the animals, eliminating traits they felt did not enhance the creature and magnifying traits they found acceptable." "Such as the strength and savageness." "Precisely,” Kym replied. Cree put a hand to his throbbing head and rubbed at the agony pulsing over his right eye. “When did he begin using humans in his experiments?” he asked. Kym slid her hands to his shoulders and began massaging him, groaning at the tightness of his muscles. “About a year later,” she said. “When your mother and her sisters arrived on Rysalia Prime." Cree flinched. He had a feeling he was not going to like what Kym would tell him. "Sejm and Jarl were getting ready to take a trip back to Resuello to make sure all traces of the lycant plant had been destroyed. They did not want anyone else to do experiments with the spores. They were in the docking station when your mother and aunts were brought off Drae Cree's ship. They overheard her screaming her curse, telling Cree and the other men they would have jackals for children resulting from the rapes.” She shrugged. “No one believed her. It was simply a curse by an angered Chalean woman." "Surprise, surprise,” Cree said through clenched teeth. “Curses of a Morrígú do have substance." "Aye, but the curse your mother flung at her captors that day was her undoing,” Kym said. "I don't understand." "The men were not supposed to experiment with humans,” Kym said. “Because of the tragedy of the V-7 retrovirus that had done so much damage on Rysalia Prime, human experimentation had been outlawed." "But Jarl and Sejm did it anyway."

Kym put her hands to either side of his head and began rubbing his temples gently. “They saw a golden opportunity and waited very impatiently for the first of King Brell's daughters to become pregnant. As soon as it became apparent all but one of the sisters had been impregnated, Jarl and Sejm insisted on taking care of the women during their pregnancies." "So they could implant parasite DNA in the embryos,” Cree whispered. "That isn't what they did." He twisted his head so he could look up at her. “They didn't genetically engineer us?" "Not entirely." A frown creased his forehead. “I thought..." "They didn't need to do anything except implant a genetically altered parasite into each woman and let the parasite do their work for them." A chill ran through Cree's body. “My dam and her sisters were given a parasite?" "Aye, all except for Hael and since mother and child shared the same blood supply, the parasite migrated to the fetuses and began multiplying inside the offspring just as the original parasites began multiplying inside the mothers." "Merciful Alel,” he said tonelessly. “It wasn't the curse that made me what I am. It was genetic engineering." "When you and your blood cousins were born—your mothers turning into beasts as they delivered and the infants exhibiting the same beastliness—no one suspected there had been any kind of human experimentation done. People believed in the Morrígú curse. Everyone, that is, except Trae Onar. When he realized what must have happened, he went to the scientists, reminding Jarl about the military subjects that should have been used instead of weak, unimportant women and mewling infants. He demanded they use the newborns to create super warriors, the likes of which the megaverse had never seen.” She stroked his forehead. “It was, of course, necessary to make sure the women did not survive to tell what had been done to them." "Hael told me my sire killed my dam when I was born,” Cree said. “She said he thought she was trying to devour me." "Like any such animal, she was merely trying to clean away the birth debris,” she said. “As soon as each of your aunts Transitioned, they were eliminated by the men who owned them." "They were murdered by those men,” Cree snapped, his jaw tight. "Jarl and Sejm could not take a chance the truth would come out and they would be imprisoned for what they'd done." "Do you really think they would have been?” he asked bitterly. "It's doubtful considering they now had at their disposal seven potential mega-warriors,” she answered.

"Sons of bitches,” Cree said. “To have done that to pregnant women...." "I know you may not want to do this, but please read at least a portion of the disklette that pertains to you. There are some things in there you should know, Kamerone,” she told him. "Why don't you just tell me and save me the trouble?” he grated. "Because I have no desire to cause you hurt, dearling,” she said then leaned down to kiss the top of his head. She removed her hands from his shoulders, letting her palms slide over the hard muscles, and then left the room. It took him another fifteen minutes before he could force himself pluck the disklette with his name on it from the box and insert it in its drive slot. His headache was an ungodly torment pounding in his temples and he was becoming sick to his stomach, hot bile rising in his esophagus to scald him. His palms were slick with sweat and he ran them up and down his thighs as he stared at his name: Kamerone Cree, ES #1. "Experimental subject?” he questioned the letters and decided that had to be what the ES meant. With his hand trembling, he used the mouse to open the first page, not surprised to see a continuation of Jarl's journal. Male subject was born on Samhain, a time traditionally when the thin veil between the worlds has been drawn aside and the dead walk the land, when the Grim Reaper strolls his domain and seeks out the living. The day of the week was Wednesday, the year known among the Chaleans as the Year of the Hound at 2353, his birth tree the reed. All these were symbols that led the Magi to decide the infant boy was tainted with bad luck. A child born on that day of the week is said to be full of woe and at that time of day—the numbers totaling thirteen—is as unlucky a birth date as can be. When the runes were thrown these characteristics were revealed by the shaman: The boy would be a complex individual, tenacious and fearless, proud and independent, with great strength but very stubborn. His will would need to be broken before he could be trained but he would be a warrior among warriors, a prime example of maleness. In discussing ES#1, Sejm and I decided he should be placed away from all human contact and with only specially trained cybots to care for his needs until such time as he had reached an age where he could begin modification indoctrination. We set that age at five years. Note: proved to be a bit early and we have since changed that age to seven years. Cree's earliest memories had been of the faceless, emotionless artificial intelligence units—the A.I.U.s—who had rolled soundlessly about the area in which he lived. The cybots were incapable of speech so there had been no gentle words to lull him to sleep or to calm him when nightmares came. There had been no lullabies to ease him into slumber. Neither had there been soft, warm, safe arms to hold him. He was fed lying on his back in the incubator until he was old enough to sit in a highchair. Punishment for crying had been swift and painful and he had learned early on not to give in to childish vents of emotion. He had learned to speak listening to an impersonal, disembodied voice coming over the vid-com speakers in a Ry-Chalean brogue. He had learned to walk holding on to the bars stationed about the room. There had been no encouraging arms held out to him and no soothing hand to ease his falls. For the first five years of his life, he wore no clothing for there was a constant barrage of tests being run upon his bruised body by the cold, hard hands of the cybots.

He was looking at a picture of him as an infant and he was stunned to see how much Jaelin resembled him. Except for his own amber eyes and Jaelin's dark green, he could have been looking at his son. But Jaelin's eyes had held laughter, love, and trust within those verdant orbs. ES#1's eyes were dull, lifeless, and full of pain, devoid of light, and rife with distrust. At age five, ES#1 was turned over to the Ministry of Science for tests to determine his intelligence and coordination. It was determined he was suitable to begin training as the warrior he would one day become. There were a long list of notations of tests that had been run on ES#1 and the results of those tests. The more Cree read, the worse his headache became until he was sick to his stomach from reading the details of the torture of the child he had been. Willful display of temper resulted in application of prolonged neuro-shock. Continued resistance was met with placement in complete immobility restraint. Subject finds such punishment particularly unpleasant. He remembered all too well being strapped down to a frigidly cold sheet of stainless steel, unable to move even his eyes for some sort of drug had been administered that brought not only paralysis but a terrible itching over every inch of his body. The punishment had been more than unpleasant. It had been excruciating. Once more insists on ignoring orders. IR instituted for a period of three days. "Three days of hell,” Cree said softly and tears formed in his eyes. The IR or immobility restraint had nearly driven him insane. ES#1 is now old enough to be remanded to the Ministry of Behavioral Modification. Micro-receivers will be implanted at the beginning of the week and work with him will begin. Sejm has given our new warrior a designation. He will be known as a Reaper and since he was our first, a Prime Reaper. He and the other six warriors will be given a mark to designate them as Reapers before Transference. We were concerned the laser application would heal spontaneously as does all injury to the flesh of ES#1. However, that was not the case. Cean believes the parasite liked the idea of the special mark to set ES#1 apart and allowed it to remain on the Reaper's flesh. Subsequent meaningless and random laser applications on different parts of the subject's body have proven Cean's supposition to be correct. He had been six years old when they had strapped him down and applied the laser tattoo of the scythe to his young flesh. Mentally, he had screamed with the pain but physically he had not even batted an eye, knowing full well the penalty for showing such a weakness. He remembered all too well the other applications of the burning wand on his flesh and to know it had been done simply to test his ability to heal made his rage soar. There must be no exhibition of emotion when the other Reapers are introduced to ES#1. He must feel superiority over them, detest the very sight of them. He must embrace the warrior within him no matter what it takes to assure that cooperation. A picture of him in the first clothing he'd ever been allowed to wear stood side by side with a close up of the stylized scythe that had turned the flesh around it crimson. Cree stared into the cold, disassociated

eyes of that young boy in the black uniform and could go no further. He recalled every brutal test that had been ran on him in the BeMod. His body held memories of every pain visited upon it. He remembered seeing his cousins for the first time and hating them savagely, as he'd been taught to do. He ejected the disklette from Kym's computer and sat back in the chair, tears running down his cheeks, his head a pounding crush of pain. He did not move when he felt Kym's hands on his temples once more. "How far did you get?” she asked him softly. "My cousins,” was all he could reply. Even the sound of his voice caused him exacting pain. Kym trailed her fingers down the right side of his neck until she found the throbbing vein that was causing him so much agony. He didn't even blink when she administered an extra dose of Triso to ease his pain. "Had you read on,” she said, pocketing the vac-syringe and placing her fingers on his temples once more, “you would have discovered just how manipulative the BeMod had been." "I remember the pain,” he said, allowing her to brace his head against her belly. "Do you remember the Transferences?" He shook his head and wished he hadn't for it increased the pain. “We'll go into that later, then." "What were you going to say about the BeMod unit?” he asked. "Each of you was assigned a handler whose job it was to indoctrinate you even in your sleep,” she told him. “They were to keep you awake as long as possible each night for Sejm decided it would temper your invincibility. Why he thought that is anyone's guess. Personally, I believe he did it to torment his subjects. Having the handlers wake the boys up all during the night was cruel and it developed a pattern of sleep that would stay with you for the rest of your lives." "You got that right,” Cree admitted. "The indoctrination took many forms,” Kym said. She put her palm on his forehead, making him close his eyes. “It wasn't just military strategy they were instilling in you. It was also phobias and misinformation designed to strengthen you in ways Sejm thought would make you the mega-warrior he envisioned." "Phobias?” Cree questioned. "Before I answer that, I want you to come with me. There is something else you need to see,” Kym responded. She stepped back so he could swing the chair around and get up from the desk. "What are we going?" "Into two more rooms." He shook his head. “I've no desire to read any more, LeJong,” he said. "You won't be reading.” She reached down and took his hand to draw him to another paneled wall. She touched a section of the wall and it opened, the hidden door swinging inward. She pulled him into the room with her.

Cree had never liked closed in places and the little room's size disturbed him. There was barely enough room for he and Kym to enter. His mouth was tight, his jaw set. Before he could question her, she reached out and touched the back of the wall—at some point near the base molding—and the entire section of wall slid soundlessly to one side, revealing a pitch dark area beyond. "I found this room and almost had its contents destroyed,” Kym said, “until I realized I might one day have a need for what is stored here.” She turned on a light and Cree realized there were two doors standing side by side. Kym opened the one on the left then reached inside to turn on the light. There were shelves along two sides of the room and a refrigerated section on the third. Row after row of purple vials housed in wire baskets lined the shelves. "Triso?” he asked in awe. "Enough to last you and your bloodkin through eternity,” she replied and pointed at the refrigeration unit. “And more than enough plastiform bags of frozen Sustenance to see you to Terra. I'm sending the coordinates to this room to Kahmal so she can harvest the Triso and Sustenance right after she takes you and your bloodkin up into theAlluvia ." Cree slowly turned his head to her. “That's going to be some quick action to get all that done before we get the hell off this planet,” he said. "You don't know the half of it, dearling,” she said, motioning him out of the room. She shut the door and turned to the other one. “Hael knew about this one but never went into the one we were just in,” she said. “I've no idea how many she told about what you're going to see. I do know at least two of the Council are aware of its existence.” She tapped in a code on the box beside the door. “When Hael showed me what the room beyond contained, I nearly shit my underdrawers." The Reaper couldn't keep the smile from pulling at his lips. He could not imagine anything less likely happening with this petite, so-in-control lady. He blinked when she threw a switch and bright light reflected against a set of titanium doors. "I don't believe Jarl and Sejm intended for this to ever be found and I wish to the goddess Hael had never discovered it.” She went to a keypad positioned to one side of the double doors and typed in the word Ruesello. "How did you discover the code name?” Cree asked as the titanium doors began to creak open. "It was Hael who thought of it. She knew all about what Dr. Jarl had discovered in the rain forest,” Kym replied. "Yet she kept up the lie that it was my dam's curse that had made me and my bloodkin what we are,” Cree growled. "She called herself protecting Sejm, I'm sure,” Kym said. "What happened to Cean?” he asked. Kym shrugged. “I believe he went back to wherever it was from which he came. There is no mention of him after you and your bloodcousins were introduced to one another."

"So he could be somewhere in the megaverse with the knowledge and possibly the wherewithal to be making more Reapers." "The thought did cross my mind,” Kym said. Once more unrelieved darkness showed behind the opened doors. Kym had placed herself to one side—facing Cree—with one hand inside the room. "Before I turn on the lights, I want you to know that I have the exact coordinates of this room on a disklette. When you leave Rysalia Prime, I want you to lock onto this room and destroy everything within it. Make sure nothing remains of its contents.” She held his gaze. “Do you understand, Kamerone? Nothing within this room must survive your leaving." He nodded. A cold worm of premonition crawled down his spine and he shuddered. When Kym turned the lights on in the vast room lurking behind the ebon darkness, his eyes widened and he sucked in a horrified breath. "There are seven vats,” he heard Kym saying as she turned and moved into the room. “Over a thousand beakers and probably triple that amount in petri dishes." Stunned, the Reaper moved into the room, unnerved by the sight that stretched out in front of him. Row upon row of glass beakers, vats, and incubated petri dishes sat under pale pink lights on glass shelving. The superheated room wreaked of sulfurous fumes that made his eyes water and his belly roil. Pressure pushed down upon him so that it was difficult to lift one foot ahead of the other. The heat made it difficult to draw breath. Each vat and beaker contained a cloudy liquid that hid what floated within it. Only a vague shadow shown behind the opaque fluid and waves of undulating light played along the steel walls, making the room appear to be under water. "Merciful Alel,” Cree said, running a hand over his suddenly sweaty face. Off to one side of the room was a laboratory with shining stainless steel counters and equipment the Reaper could not name. "They were planning an army of warriors,” Kym said quietly as Cree walked up to one of the life-sized vats. She watched him as he stared at the label attached to the bottom of the vat. "This is unreal,” he whispered and moved back as the shadow within the vat shifted. "Hael was ecstatic when she found the specimens,” Kym said as she came to stand beside him. “She was gearing up to begin working with what she'd found here. As soon as she returned from Terra and had you in this room, she intended to remove your parasite and begin transplantation into carefully chosen subjects. She, too, was planning an army of super warriors." "Women warriors,” he said quietly. "Indeed, thousands of them." The vat before which he stood shook on its base and the shadowy content pressed against the glass. Never having seen a fully-grown parasite, a revenant worm, Cree was taken aback by the repulsive sight that glared at him from beyond the glass barrier.

It was a long, willowy creature with stubby wings and a tail curled like that of a seahorse. Glowing a putrid green color, the queen had a triangular head covered in warts. Its red eyes shone with an unholy light as it stared back at the Reaper and now and again a forked tongue would flick from between rows of sharp fangs to touch the glass. "My sire!"the creature hissed and the sound was like that of a swarm of angry bees. With a groan of disgust, Cree staggered back from the hideous creature and fled the room. Kym found him beyond the double titanium doors, bending over with a pool of vomit at his booted feet. She put her hand to his back and patted him. "These abominations must be destroyed,” she told him. "Aye,” the Reaper agreed and put up a trembling hand to wipe his mouth. Kym closed the doors on the hidden laboratory, sealing in the thousands of parasites that awaited a host. When she turned around, she found she was alone. Cree had gone back into her office. He was sitting before her desk, his face in his hands when she joined him. "Are you all right?” she asked. "No,” he bit out, “and I never will be until those things are destroyed." "As I said, I will give Kahmal the disklette with the room's coordinates. Make sure she wipes that room off the face of Rysalia Prime." "Count on it,” he growled. He lifted his head, his fingers covering the lower portion of his face. “Were the plants on Ruesello destroyed?" Kym shrugged. “Sejm says so in his journal, but I would not take his word for it." "Perhaps a flyby of the rainforest and a purging of all the plant life there would be in order,” Cree said grimly, hating the thought of the destruction of the flora and fauna on that world. "I'll see to it,” Kym said. "You said something about phobias,” he reminded her. “What kind of phobias?" Kym came to stand behind him and put her hands gently on his shoulders. “Such as your fear of running water,” she said. “Sejm had a debilitating fear of water and never learned to swim. Because he couldn't do it, he didn't want you boys to be able to do it, either." "But the parasite..." "Was indoctrinated right along with you,” Kym told him. “It, too, was a fledgling, Kamerone. It learned as you did. Told it would die, it believed the handler and has kept you from water." "I can learn to swim?” he asked, knowing how much Bridget loved the water, but he would never allow her near it. "Aye, you can. There is also the restriction about Reapers having only one mate. That was part of the

indoctrination as you gained puberty. That prohibition had meaning only for Jarl, I suspect. He believed firmly in monogamy. Being able to make love to as many women as you like is completely possible." "That's how he was able to mate with the Amazeen!” Cree whispered. "Who?” Kym asked. "He never went through the indoctrination at puberty so he didn't know he wasn't supposed to have the second one, the one he chose as his mate. It makes perfect sense to me now." "Who are you talking about, Kamerone?” Kym repeated. "It's not important.” Cree's jaw tightened. “What other lies did they feed us?" "Only one that really matters,” Kym said as she slid her arms over his chest and held him. “There was no reason you could not have picked up your son and held him, Kamerone. You would not have done harm to the child. I can only surmise why such a hateful restriction was added to the others. My feeling is it was meant to control any tender feelings you might have developed should you ever encounter one of your bloodsons." Terrible grief welled up inside the Reaper. “I could have held my Jaelin?” he asked in a wounded voice. "Aye, Kamerone,” she replied. “You could have." "Female offspring?” he asked, knowing how much Bridie wanted a little girl. “Can a Reaper give his lady a girl child?" "I'm afraid that is one restriction that will always be. The original parasites were instructed to kill female zygotes and nothing can undo that, I'm afraid. The restriction is passed down from parasite to parasite. Sejm hated women and he had no use for them in his world so he didn't want his super warriors capable of producing warrior women. He would have been turning over in his grave had he known what Hael had planned." "The sons-of-bitches,” Cree said. His headache was a crushing evil intent on rendering him unconscious with the agony it was producing. The extra Triso had made hardly any dent in the pain, but finally had squelched the nausea that had been rising up his throat. "Are you still hurting?” Kym asked. "What does it matter?” he countered. There was far more pain in his heart at that moment than in his physical body. He almost longed for unconsciousness so he would not have to think about the lost opportunities to hold his infant son. Kym took her arms from around him and reached into her pocket for the second vac-syringe she had prepared for him. Not bothering to seek his permission, she felt along the left side of his neck for the throbbing vein and delivered the payload into his neck before he could stop her. "Damn!” Cree cursed, slapping a hand to the stinging pain so quickly Kym barely had time to remove the needle from his flesh. “What did you do...?" The Reaper would have tumbled from the chair had Kym not reached out to keep him from pitching

forward. She smiled as she smoothed the hair from his forehead. “I remember that day as clearly as though it were yesterday,” she said. It had been on Level Twelve of FSK-12 where she and Beryla Dean had found Cree in fierce battle. She'd stared as twelve Keepers, and just as many lower-ranking Shepherds did their best to keep an enraged Kamerone Cree from making his way down the corridor to Tylan Kahn's private quarters. Three men lay on the floor with broken jaws slung to one side; two nursed broken wrists, one a twice-broken arm; and three more were bent over, retching on the floor as they gingerly cradled their private parts in trembling hands. Not one of the security enforcers had been left unscathed by the swinging feet and punishing fists of the Reaper. Blood was splattered on the walls from smashed noses and broken teeth and the floor was slick with sweat and something the chemist didn't want to name. Even as she gaped at the ruckus taking place before her, Kym saw four men attempting to bring down the enraged warrior with their energy prods. "He is very impressive,” Kym had whispered. "Yes, but I have to put a stop to this before he kills someone,” the Director had stressed as she uncapped the two syringes in her hand, gripped them in her fists—needles pointed toward the floor, her thumb over the two plungers. She waited until Cree had been driven to his knees from a dual jolt of two energy prods then stepped forward and drove the needles deep into the flesh between his shoulder and his neck. Cree felt the sting, slapped a hand up to his injured neck and bellowed with rage as he twisted beneath three quick jolts of electricity going through him. He saw Dr. Dean standing over him, he saw the syringes in her hand, looked up into her eyes with surprise. "What did you do to me?” he asked before the lights went off and the floor dropped out from under him. "You were such an imposing sight, my warrior,” Kym told him. “I will remember that day all my life,” she grinned. “And you aren't going to be any happier with me when you wake up than you were on that day." Making sure he wouldn't fall out of the chair, she called her secretary on the vid-com and asked her to send for the two Amazeens who had brought Cree to her office, bidding them to bring two more so they could carry the Reaper back to his cage. When Chanz and Aegean arrived with Deon and Tyrian, Cree was snoring lightly, his head on his chest. "What happened?” Chanz asked. "His headache had become so bad I had to put him out,” Kym replied. “He'll be quite the handful when he wakes up if history repeats itself.” She nodded toward the litter she'd had brought to her office while she waited for the Amazeens. “Be gentle with him, ladies." "He's going to be as mad as a Serenian hornet fly that you knocked him out,” Aegean remarked as she and Chanz lifted the unconscious Reaper between them, staggering beneath his dead weight. "Just remind him I won't be giving him any hephastiox this time around to make him gag,” Kym said with a laugh. “That should partially appease his sense of betrayal." It took all four women to carry the four-handled litter back to the cage. Those Daughters the Amazeen's passed down the corridors of Fleet Command and along the pathway outside, inquired—anxiously, it

seemed to Chanz—of the Reaper's health. "He'll be all right,” Chanz assured them. "He hasn't been tortured has he?” one woman asked, her eyes flashing. Chanz looked at the woman. “No, why would you think he would be?" "The Prophetess-Mother has no love for the Iceman,” another woman said. “Nothing could be put past her in regards to him." "Don't call him that,” Chanz said. “He hates that nickname." "My pardon,” the woman said, her gaze going to the unconscious Reaper. “I would do nothing to hurt him more than he has already been hurt." They had reached the cage and Chanz had to fumble in the pocket of her jumpsuit for the keys to the Reaper's enclosure. She was straining to hold her handle of the litter and try to unlock the cage at the same time. "Let me help,” the first woman who had spoken offered and rushed forward to take the key from Chanz. She made quick work of opening the cell and pulled open the door, stepping aside for the Amazeen's to take the unconscious Reaper inside. "Thank you, Daughter,” Chanz mumbled. "It is good to see someone provided a pillow and blanket for him,” another woman said. "Aye,” Chanz concurred. Placing the litter on the concrete floor, the Amazeens carefully lifted Cree and placed him on the blanket, his head upon the pillow. They exited the cage and Chanz locked it again, pocketing the key. "Why is he unconscious though?” someone asked. "Dr. Kym gave him a med for his migraine,” Chanz answered and watched those around her nodding with understanding. "That is good,” the one who had asked agreed. “I had heard he had debilitating headaches." "All Reapers do,” another said knowingly. As the Amazeens made their way back toward Fleet Command, they saw other women converging in front of the cage. None seemed a threat to the sleeping Reaper. "You think he'll be all right?” Aegean asked. "I believe so,” Chanz answered. “The goddess is keeping our Reaper safe."

Chapter Fifteen

Caitlin had been searching for her husband and found him staring out one of theDarkWind's portholes, his head against the thick plexiform. The cybot he had programmed was standing twenty feet away, keeping watch on its master. "Is he okay?” Caitlin asked the ‘bot. "'His eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.’” "That bad, huh? Is he watching Raphie's ship?" "'And scowls on starry worlds that down beneath it lie,'” Raven said on a long sigh. The ‘bot rolled away, shaking its head. "He needs a companion,” Khiershon said, not looking around but aware of his wife's presence. "Perhaps you can build him one,” Caitlin suggested. She slipped her arm around her husband's waist. "Aye,” he said, leaning into her. "What worries you, Khier?” she asked. "'But, now, the ruler of an anchor'd realm, She throws aside the sceptre—leaves the helm,'” he quoted the Terran poet. "You're worried Raphie will interfere and cause problems,” Caitlin said. "She's not the most levelheaded of women,” he said with a snort. “The gods only know what is in her addled brain." "But what can you do?” his wife questioned. "Wait for her to act, then do my best to keep her from getting captured or killed and her ship and crew from being blown to dust,” he replied. She laid her head on his shoulder. “Are you worried about your father?" Khiershon enveloped her in his arms. “My bloodsire? Perhaps a bit but I trust that he has the situation well in hand. His is a legend brighter than any star in the heavens." "What was it like to talk to him?” she asked. "It would have been better face to face, but I found myself shivering as I spoke to him. I was experiencing the greatest amount of pride, Caitlin,” he confessed. “I was almost drowning in it." "I never met my real father,” she told him. “I can only imagine what you must have been feeling." "I never thought to have the honor,” he said. “It is a moment I will treasure." "Khier!"the name coming over the vid-com in such a strident tone startled the Reaper.

"Aye,” he answered Iyan. "We've got trouble!" "On my way." Khiershon and Caitlin turned as one and with Raven trundling along behind them headed for the bridge. "What now?” Khiershon asked as they waited for the elevator to take them up the two decks to the bridge. "I don't know but he sounded a bit stressed out,” Caitlin said. She walked ahead of her husband into the elevator cage and stepped aside, frowning, as Raven rolled in, as well. "'Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing',” Raven quoted. Caitlin ignored the AIU but Khiershon snapped at it to be quiet. "'Nevermore'." The elevator doors opened and Khiershon rushed around his ‘bot, his eyes on a grim faced Iyan McGregor. “What's wrong?” he asked. "We're getting transmissions from ships out in the quadrant,” Iyan said. “A Diabolusian ship headed for the Feast encountered a Rysalian ship just to the north of Chale." "So?" "The ship's crew is all male,” Iyan said. “Eight men to be precise." "A Rysalian ship?” the Reaper questioned. “How can that be?" "The ship isThe Vortex ,” Iyan said, his gaze locked on Khiershon's. "Merciful Alel,” Khiershon said. "What does that mean?” Caitlin asked. "That was the ship that took my bloodsire to Terra,” her husband replied. “These must be the men who accompanied him. They're no doubt here to try to rescue him." "And get themselves blown to dust in the bargain,” Iyan grumbled. “There are two other Multitude ships headed right at them." "I don't like those odds,” Khiershon said. "One of those men might well be Prince Raine,” Iyan said. “I can't stand the thought of one of my kinsmen dying at the hands of the Multitude." "Then we go to his aid,” Caitlin said.

"How do we do that?” Iyan snapped. Caitlin grinned. “Just watch.” She looked at each of her women crewmembers. “Hail Raphaella's ship." "Why?” Khiershon asked. "Humor me, Reaper,” Caitlin said, motioning Bryan to do as she ordered. Helen opened a channel to Raphie's ship and it was the princess herself who's annoyed face showed on the vid-com. “What the hell do you want?” Raphie snapped. "Have you heard about the Rysalian ship on its way here?” Caitlin inquired, her eyes bright and opened wide. “There are eight men on it!" Raphie frowned. She had obviously not been listening to the transmissions between ships. “So what?” she barked. "We're going to go join the fun!” Caitlin said with a laugh. The Amazeen princess looked as though she'd been punched in the stomach. “Does he know...?" "You stay here and let us know how things turned out for the Feast,” Caitlin said, cutting her off. “We're going to go have some fun!" Khiershon groaned and sent a sublim to Raphie."We've got to try to protect my bloodsire's friends. Watch his back while we're about it." Caitlin saw surprise enter Raphaella's face. She opened her mouth as though about to protest but Caitlin motioned Helen to sever the connection between their ships. "The DarkWind, this is Rysalian Fleet Command. Do not break orbit,” an imperious voice came over the vid-com. “The situation with the rogue ship is being taken care of." "Don't answer,” Caitlin said and looked to Marti Holloway. “Get us out of orbit and put the pedal to the metal girl!" "The DarkWind, do you copy?” came the angry voice again. "What if they try to stop us?” Iyan asked. "You'd best sit down and buckle in,” Caitlin warned the men. She had taken the command chair and was fastening her safety harness. "The DarkWind, you are not to leave orbit!" Iyan and Khiershon nearly toppled over backward as the ship arced out of orbit and began accelerating at a wicked pace. "Damn it,DarkWind , you are not authorized to...." Helen terminated the connection.

"How many ships are heading toward the Rysalian craft?” Caitlin asked. "Three but only one close enough to intercept it." Khiershon's lips were a thin line as he took a seat beside Caitlin. “Wench, you are going to get me killed yet." "She's going to get all of us killed,” Iyan complained. He had staggered to one of the navigational stations and was glaring at Caitlin. "Can you try hailing The Vortex?” Caitlin asked. "Too far out of range,” Helen replied. "What the hell will you say to them?” Iyan snarled. “Oh, by the way, we strolled over to give you guys a hand?" "The chances are good Admiral Kahn is on that ship,” Khiershon said. “He possesses a strong psychic ability. When we get closer, I will attempt to contact him and let him know he's in danger." "You don't think he knows he's got Multitude ships headed his way?” Wynth asked. "He might know but he won't be able to fend off three ships,” Caitlin said. “We're just evening the score." "And he might fire on us,” Iyan grumbled, “thinking we're part of the Multitude attack force." "He'll read the heat signature on our ship and know we are a Terran vessel,” Caitlin stated. “He'll think twice before firing on us." "You hope,” Khiershon said. Caitlin flashed him a quick look then grinned. “Don't worry, Reaper. I'll keep your tight ass safe." **** Tylan Kahn was furious. Three Multitude ships were storming toward him and Troi could not get any of The Vortex's weapons on line. “You piece of plastiform shit!” Kahn yelled. “Do something!" The cybot was typing code into the ship's computers so fast his hands were a blur. "'Could I come near your beauty with my nails',” he sniped, “'I'd set my ten commandments in your face!’” Taborn actually laughed at the ‘bot's insult. The Necromanian prince was standing behind Alexi Noll's station, watching the three Multitude crafts drawing close on the screen. "Fuck you, you gods-be-damned ‘bot!” Kahn roared. "'Talkers are no good doers',” Troi shot back.

"Get the weapons on line and stop prattling off that garbage!” the former admiral of Rysalian Fleet Command ordered. "'I'll put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes',” Troi stated. "Forty minutes?” Kahn screamed. “We don't have forty minutes you blithering idiot!" The weapons’ system came online and began gearing up. "'Now my soul hath elbow-room',” Troi said on a long sigh. His nimble fingers continued to fly across the keyboard. "Apparently Troi's forty minutes is a lot faster than our forty minutes,” Taborn said with a chuckle. The ‘bot glanced over at the dark man and grinned with a lopsided twist of its rubbery lips. “'Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes',” he complimented Taborn. "As I've always known,” Taborn agreed, nodding. "Bastards,” Kahn said. He slammed himself into his command chair. “Any more ships headed our way, Noll?" Noll groaned. “Aye, Admiral. We have four on our tail now.” He moved closer to the screen. “The new one is a Terran ship." "'Though she be but little, she is fierce',” Troi told them. "Terran?” Kahn asked. “Are you sure?" "Positive,” Noll replied. “She's carrying a Terran heat sig." "Friend or foe, Troi?” Taborn inquired. The ‘bot smiled. “'It is a wise father that knows his own child'." "I am sick of your shit!” Kahn shouted. “Talk like a normal man or I'll have you shut down once and for all and your twisted body turned into pulp!" "The saying is true, ‘The empty vessel makes the greatest sound,'” Troi said with a sniff. He turned to Taborn. “'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers'." "They are friends,” Taborn said. “Try hailing them Thorne." "Terran ship,” Thorne said. “Do you copy?" "Admiral Kahn, are you aboard The Vortex?" Kahn jumped, the strong voice winding its way through his mind. He got to his feet. “Who the hell are you?” he asked aloud. "Khiershon Cree, son of the Prime,"was the reply.

Kahn staggered beneath that introduction. He fumbled for the arm of his command chair and sat down. “Cree?” he repeated. "'Is that the elder, and art thou the heir?'” Troi asked. "Shut up, ‘bot!” Tylan bellowed. Troi giggled. “'Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now',” the ‘bot said. Taborn rushed to Kahn's side. “Are you speaking to him? To Cree?" "'I can not tell what the dickens his name is',” Troi said. "Shut up, ‘bot!” Taborn ordered. “Tylan, who is it?" "His son,” Kahn said. “Khiershon." Tealson Hesar looked up from his engineering station. “The one presumed dead on Amazeen? The oldest son?" "That would be me. We are here to help you, Admiral,"Khiershon said."Pray don't fire on us." Before Kahn could respond a volley of laser pulses flashed past theVortex , rocking the ship in their wake. "Is he safe?"Kahn whispered, knowing the Reaper on the Terran ship would hear. "He was well when we left Rysalia Prime. Look to this battle and leave that one where it is until we are finished!" Kahn's lips twitched. The audacity was in the young pup's tone, his father's ego just as blazing in the son as in the sire. "I'm reading a ship of nothing but females,” Noll reported. "Obviously they are running some kind of block on the readings,” Taborn snapped. "Two ships fast closing, Admiral,” Belvoir called out. "Engage the closer of the two and let the Reaper take the other,” Kahn ordered.

Chapter Sixteen Cree awoke with a start, realized he'd been dreaming, and sat up, snaking his hand through his hair. He couldn't recall the dream but his heart was thundering, his flesh clammy with sweat, and there was a sour taste in his mouth. Drawing his legs up, he encircled them in the perimeter of his arms and laid his head down on knees. He was breathing hard as though he'd been running but the brutal headache that had plagued him in Kym's office thankfully was gone. Only a stray, vanishing thought of berating Kym for knocking him out wandered through his brain, but he pushed it aside.

"Milord Cree?" He lifted his head at the soft voice and turned his face toward the speaker, frowning as he spied the tall woman standing with her fingers wrapped around the bars of his cage. "Has no one told you that is a dangerous thing you are doing, wench?” the Reaper asked. "Of what do you refer, milord?" "Standing that close to my cage." The woman smiled. “I have no fear of you, milord Reaper.” She pressed her forehead against the bars. “You would not hurt me for I am one of yours." Cree's frown deepened. “One of my what?” he asked. "Will you take me with you when you leave?” she asked, seeming not to have heard his question. “Please?" "I wasn't aware I was going anywhere,” he retorted. “Doesn't look like I'm in any position to be leaving." Her smile deepened. “I am a part of you, milord. I have one of your parasites within me,” she stated. “I know your plans as well as I know my own." Shock tore through Cree as he stared at her. He swung his head from side to side to see if anyone had heard her, but they were alone, the sky threatening to dump rain upon them at any moment. "I would not be so reckless to come to you when others might hear,” she said. "Wench, I..." "Before she left with the Amazeens, Dr. Sejm implanted three of us. I am the only one left.” She extended her hand through the bar in pleading. “Please take me with you. I want to be with my own kind. I want to be with you." Cree got to his feet and walked over to the woman, keeping well back from her beseeching hand. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said. She drew her hand back and gripped the bar once more. “Aye, but you do, milord. I can read it in your mind. You are upset about what Sejm did, you saw the room filled with parasites. Your dreaming was filled with your disquiet, and I can understand that you are wary of me.” She shook her head. “You do not have to worry. I will keep your secret even if you will not take me with you." Cree delved quickly into the woman's mind and was surprised she allowed it. He could not read any duplicity, any deception there, only loneliness and confusion in her thoughts. “Where are the other two?” he asked. "Miriam went insane during the initial Transition,” she told him. “She had to be put down." The Reaper winced at the matter of fact words. “And the third?"

"No one knows where Kate went,” she replied. “She disappeared that first night and has not been seen since. I believe she is in the mountains of Rysalia Prime but since no one but Dr. Sejm and Dr. Sorn knew of her, there is no one here to go searching." He narrowed his eyes. “Delyn Sorn?” he questioned. She nodded. “The one and the same." "Why did you not leave with the other?" "And do what, milord?” Sadness entered the woman's pale blue eyes. “Where was there for me to go? All I know is here. Each of us was from Terra. We have no family here. I want to go home, milord. I want to go back home to Kansas." Cree watched tears gathering in the woman's eyes. “What is your name?" "Danielle,” she said. “Danielle Conway." Once more he slipped through her mind and could find no trickery or dishonestly in her thoughts. “Go find Dr. Kym. Tell her what you've told me,” he ordered. Danielle's face brightened. “You will take me with you, then?" "Do you realize many years will have passed in Terran time since you were taken?” he asked. “The chances of you finding any of your family alive are remote." "But I would be home,” she said. “My heart aches for Terra. If I am to endure the burden of the parasite, at least I would be home." "Go to Kym,” he repeated. “That is all I can tell you." She let go of the bars, studied him for a moment then she smiled again though her cheeks were wet with tears. “I'll not pose a problem for you, milord,” she said and hurried off toward Fleet Command. Cree watched her until she had disappeared inside the building. She had intercepted the dream that had awakened him and had reminded him what it had been about. Fleeting wisps of it darted across his memory as he stood gripping the bars as Danielle had. He cursed beneath his breath and turned away from the bars, going back to his blanket, and dropping down on the hard concrete with a grunt. "Gods-be-damned, Sejm,” he snarled. He found himself wanting to rend and tear the blanket in his fury but the first drops of rain splattered on his head and he looked up, blinking as more droplets fell into his face. Lighting flared in the distance—a precursor to a violent storm heading his way—and thunder rolled across the plaza. "Now isn't that just great?” the Reaper complained. “Just jim-fucking dandy great!” He growled more Terran-based curses beneath his breath as the rain drenched his pillow, turning it into a soggy lump. Jerking the blanket from beneath his ass, he swirled it around him, holding it over his head to block the onslaught of rain that was by then coming down in an avalanche of pounding drops. Already the seat of his jumpsuit was soaked through. Sitting there—miserable and infuriated—he stared into the gathering

gloom and deluge of rain and cursed Jarl, both Sejm, Delyn Sorn and anyone else who'd ever rated his ire. **** "He is not a happy camper,” Sern commented as she stared out the window of Fleet Command. She, too, found the Terran vernacular better descriptive than that of her native Amazeen. "You wouldn't be, either, if you had to sit out there in that downpour,” Deon said. "His pillow is sopping wet,” Aegean injected. "Thus, he will be fit to be tied,” Sern stated on a long sigh. “He does love his little pillow." Akkadia Kahmal was standing with her crew, looking out at the cage where the Reaper hunched in misery. Her heart went out to him and if it had been up to her, she would have retrieved him from his outdoor cell. As it was, all she could do was ask Tyrian if the coordinates of the pendants for Cree and Dorrie had been programmed into the ship's computer. "Along with the positions of the ten execution poles,” Tyrian answered the same question for the third time. "What about the Necromani?" Tyrian sighed. “I have Zainabu's pendant programmed in, as well, Major." "The Feast is tomorrow,” Kahmal needlessly reminded them for each of the women was very aware of the approach of the intended execution of the ten cadets. “We must make sure everything goes according to plans. Everyt needs to be..." "Crossed and everyi dotted,” Chanz finished for her commanding officer. “Don't worry, ‘Kadia. We know what has to be done." "Then why is it I am as nervous as a green recruit?” Kahmal sniped. "Because that is your way,” Deon spoke for all of them. "I told Dr. Kym we would be returning to theAlluvia this afternoon and would not be back for the festivities at dawn,” Kahmal said. “Perhaps we should go to the ship now while it is storming. No one will think it strange." "I hate leaving him out there in the rain,” Sern said and they all turned their gazes to the Reaper. “The lightning is coming closer. What if he should get hit? With all the iron around him..." "Stop it!” Kahmal hissed. “I can't stand thinking of such things!" The Amazeens watched their commander spin on her heel and stalk off, her shoulders hunched as she stormed down the corridor toward the monorail station that would take her to the docking bay. "She's lost her heart to him,” Deon said softly. "Aye, she has,” Chanz agreed. “And she's not handling it very well."

"Let's get back to the ship,” Tyrian said. “She shouldn't be alone to sit there and stew about tomorrow." As the women made their way down the corridor, Shei-Ling, Kym's secretary came toward them, a tall woman walking beside her. The diminutive Chrystallusian woman stopped and gave a deep bow to Chanz, the second in command of theAlluvia . "The Auxiliary Prophetess bids you accept this Terran woman amongst your crew,” Shei-Ling said, holding out a delicate hand toward the tall woman. “This is Danielle and she is of his blood." Cirolia Sern took a step back and automatically scanned the woman Shei-Ling was introducing. The Amazeen sent her psychic ability straight into Danielle's heart and felt the unhappiness that dwelled there. She also sensed the parasite nestled within the woman's body. “You are a female Reaper?” Sern gasped. Danielle nodded slowly. “I am." "There is no such thing!” Aegean said. "Unfortunately, there is,” Danielle said. “He knows of me and it was he who sent me to Dr. Kym." Shei-Ling handed a disklette to Chanz. “These are the coordinates of two rooms deep within the Fleet Command complex. You must quickly transport the contents of Room A as soon as you've brought the Reapers on board. The room is filled with Triso and Sustenance. As for Room B, it and everything within it must be destroyed. For the love of the goddess don't confuse which room is which. If you have questions, ask the Prime Reaper." "What's in Room B?” Chanz demanded. "Parasites,” Sern said in a shocked voice as she delved quickly into Danielle's mind to test the young woman's truthfulness. “Thousands upon thousands of them!" "Revenant worms?” Chanz whispered. "Aye." "As I said, do not confuse the rooms,” Shei-Ling stressed. “You don't want a cargo hold full of revenant worms." "By the goddess, no!” Sern breathed. Chanz’ face turned pale and her hand shook as she took the disklette from Shei-Ling. “The Multitude has been making female Reapers?" "Only three of us so far and one of us had to be put down. She went insane during Transition. Many more are awaiting implantation,” Danielle said. “That was to begin after the Feast when Dr. Sejm had harvested the Prime's queen." "The crazy bitch,” Chanz snarled, pocketing the disklette. “To have done that they would have had to kill Cree." "Well, that was what they had planned, after all,” Tyrian reminded her.

"And still plan to do,” Danielle said. "What do you mean?” Aegean asked. "The Prophetess Mother had ordered the Prime be assassinated at the height of the executions, when all eyes are upon the burning cadets,” Danielle answered. “The assassin was to spray him with an incendiary fluid and ignite it." "Where the hell is this assassin?” Chanz asked. “I will see to her!" "There is no need,” Danielle said, rubbing her belly. “She is no more." "Dishonorable hag,” Chanz named Cyle Acet, the Prophetess Mother. She looked away from Danielle to keep from gagging. "I have been assured she will not survive the Feast,” Danielle whispered. “There are few who will mourn her loss." "And Dr. Kym will assume the position,” Shei-Ling said with a slight smile. “She will make a wise and benevolent Prophetess Mother." "I am sure she will,” Chanz said, still feeling queasy. Overhead, the lights flickered then a sharp shriek of lightning cracked. The ground beneath the Fleet Command headquarters building shook with the boom of thunder that followed. "There will be no one out and about during one of our bad storms,” Shei-Ling said. “Now would be a good time for you to take Danielle to your ship." Chanz looked to Cirolia Sern with an arched brow. "She's copasetic,” Sern said, giving her stamp of approval to the Terran. "You're sure?" "I'm positive,” Sern stated. “And somewhere there is a second female Reaper, but Danielle doesn't know where she is or if she poses a threat to our mission." Shei-Ling walked with them as far as the Auxiliary Prophetess’ office then bowed to them. “We'll keep looking for the other female Reaper. May the Wind be always at your backs, daughters of the Amazeen,” she blessed them. "Give Dr. Kym our best wishes,” Chanz replied. “And you take care, Shei-Ling." The small woman straightened to her full height of well below five feet. “Thank you, Lieutenant." "She's a good woman,” Danielle commented as she followed behind Tyrian and Aegean. "Seems to be,” Deon agreed.

"She will be promoted when Dr. Kym becomes the Prophetess Mother." "Who'll be her secretary then?” Aegean inquired. Danielle's lips tightened. “A technician who has butt kissing down to a science. McNeer's her name. Marilyn McNeer." "I gather you don't like her,” Deon said. "She hates Reapers,” Danielle said. “God only knows what she'd do if she knew I was one. I don't trust her any further than I can see her." "Well, you won't be seeing her again if everything goes as we plan,” Chanz told her. "From your mouth to God's ear,” Danielle mumbled, making the Sign of the Cross. "What is that you just did?” Tyrian asked. As the women continued to the monorail station, Danielle explained about her Terran God, finding she had a rapt audience as she spoke. **** Twice, jagged bolts of lightning came perilously close to the cage in which Cree sat huddled in cold wretchedness. He'd flinched with the first zap of lightning as it struck the coping around what he had once known to be the Reflecting Pool of Alel's Force that lay in front of Fleet Command headquarters. The second hit had brought out a vicious curse that had turned the air around him blue. "I hate fucking lightning,” he said and the parasite within him shifted uneasily. It, too, feared the shrill sing of the blazing electrical discharges that could turn a man into a burning cinder. The scintillations stair stepping down from the heavens caused the revenant worm to twist and turn beneath the Reaper's flesh even though the creature could not see the displays of light. Soaking wet beneath the dripping blanket at least the material over his head kept Cree from the brunt of the driving water. The wind had increased in volume and speed and was lashing at him with cold fingers that reached up under his makeshift canopy to chill him. Never had he been so miserable out in the elements. Even his sweltering sojourn on Hellio-12 had not been as brutal as this sodden confinement. In the sudden flare of light pulsing overhead, he saw the lone figure of a woman standing to one side of the Multitude's Obelisk. He narrowed his gaze, trying to find her in the dark gray of the stormy afternoon but when the next flash of lightning lit the skies, she was no longer there. He closed his eyes, searching for her with his mind, and realized she was somewhere behind him now. "Kate?” he asked softly. When there was no answer, he opened his eyes and when he did, found her standing where Danielle had been earlier. "I felt your presence so I came down from the mountains,” the woman said. She was drenched, her long brown hair plastered to her head. "You have one of my parasites, too,” he said. She shrugged. “Your bloodkin are to die tomorrow,” she said.

"How does that make you feel?" She shrugged again then ran her arm under her dripping nose. “It's nothing to me,” she answered. “I've never even seen the bastards." He delved lightly into her mind and was taken aback by the fury than boiled within her soul. It was a killing rage he knew all too well. To sense it coming from a woman in such hard waves unsettled him. "What is it you want, Kate?" "Kathleen,” she corrected him, lifting her chin. “My name is Kathleen." "What is it you want, Kathleen,” he amended. "To kill the ones who did this to me!” she snapped. "Sejm is dead,” he told her. "Not good enough. I want Sorn's head on a platter! I want to pull her guts out inch by inch as she lies there screaming! I want her to know what it feels like to Transition!" The image floated through Cree's brain and he smiled. “I must admit that would entertain me, as well." "Then help me do it, Reaper!” she hissed, taking hold of the bars of his cage. “Help me avenge the evil done to me and Miriam!" "What of Danielle?” he asked. "She is no concern of mine." "Why not?" "That one has embraced the change,” Kate said bitterly. “She believes she can use it once she's back on Terra." "What do you think?" Kate threw out a dismissive hand. “She's dreaming. Were you able to use your abilities on Terra?" Cree winced. “No, but to be honest I didn't try." "She'll wind up in somebody's laboratory on Terra is most likely what will happen,” Kate spat. She jerked on the cage's bar. “Help me right this wrong, Reaper!" "I sent Danielle to Dr. Kym,” he said. “She will handle what needs doing." There was mistrust in the wild eyes that stared at him. Cree could sense she was very close to Transitioning. She would need to be confined in a containment cell and soon. "Are there cells on the Amazeen ship?” she asked him, intercepting his stray thought.

"There are,” he replied, “but only two. There will be thirteen Reapers and only those two cells. There are also nine extended sleep units so we might have to juggle who sleeps when." "Might get a bit crowded, eh, Reaper?” she asked with a snort. "Just a mite,” he agreed. “You're close. You need to..." "I know what I need to do,” she snapped. "Do you know where Sorn is now?” he asked as he got up and walked toward her. He was not surprised when she did not back away from his approach. "With the Prophetess-Mother,” she replied. “That one is dying and Kym will soon take over from her. They are all at the Deathwatch and well guarded else I would go in and abduct Sorn." "Go to Kym and tell her to provide protection for you so you can go with us tomorrow,” he said. “Tell her to do whatever she needs to do to get a necklace on Sorn." The female Reaper cocked her head to one side. “So she can be brought up to the ship with us?" He nodded. “What you do to her is your own affair. I'll not gainsay you." The woman wrapped her hands more firmly around the bars. “Though she hurt you far worse than she hurt me? You would allow me the honor of destroying her?" "The pain she caused me passed, little one,” he said softly. He reached out to place his hands over hers. “Yours will be with you forever." She closed her eyes at his touch, seeming to take strength from the contact then slowly slid her hands from under his. “I do not hate you, Kamerone Cree,” she said. With that, she jerked around and was gone through the pouring rain. He lost sight of her in the glooming, realizing she had not asked to go with him when he left Rysalia Prime. Allowing her to stay was out of the question, though. With a heavy sigh, Cree walked back to where his blanket lay and lifted it over his head once more. It was saturated with water and he let it fall around his shoulders. His arms were tired anyway and he was exhausted from the onslaught of the rain. The droplets hit his head with force, but he almost welcomed the distraction for now he had not just one but two more women foisted upon him by the harsh hands of fate. Though Kahmal had told him the two silly Ionarians would not be leaving with them, he still had ten women to try to protect and preserve. It was a punishment he thought that well exceeded his crimes.

Chapter Seventeen On Terra Bridget Cree was watching her son as he tossed a football with his best friend, Roy. She smiled at the

two boys. "The older he gets, the more like his father he looks,” Beryla Dean said. The two women were sipping lemonade as they sat on a plaid blanket spread out on the grass of the park. "And even without Kam here to show him how to act like a Reaper, Jae is developing characteristics so like his father it is unnerving,” Bridie said of the six year old. She saw him rake a hand through his dark curls and the gesture was so like that of his sire it nearly broke her heart. "It is in his genetic makeup, Bridie,” Beryla reminded her. “We will have to take precautions the closer he gets to puberty and his first Transition." "I am so grateful all of you are here now,” Bridie said. Beryla nodded. She and the other women who had accompanied Bridie to Terra—Tina Portas, Amala Dayle, Ivonne O'Malley, and Dr. Aurora Burds—had now relocated to Albany, the large southwest Georgia town where Beryla and Aurora had set up a new medical facility. All the Hunters—Rysalian military men formerly assigned to find and round up women for retrieval to FSK-14—had also gathered in the town to be near their own kind. "He has missed so much,” Bridie said, tears gathering in her green eyes. Beryla knew her friend was speaking of the boy's father. “Aye, but you've enough vid-shots of Jae's growing up to last him years when Tylan brings Kamerone home." "If they bring him home,” Bridie said and her lips trembled. "They will,” Beryla said. Bridget had a flashback to the day when her beloved Reaper had been taken from her and she shivered. "Still having the nightmares?” Beryla asked gently. Bridie nodded. “I relive our last conversation, hearing me tell him to get out.” Moisture entered her eyes. “I hear him asking me where he was supposed to go, what was he supposed to do, and I tell him I didn't care, that I don't want anything more to do with him." "You were angry and you were hurt, Bridie,” Beryla said. "I hurt him so badly that day,” she said, swiping at the moisture. “I broke his heart." "Black as it is,” Beryla replied. "Then everything changes and we're in the cafeteria at Dougherty General and he's sitting there with Dorrie.” She smiled ruefully. “And I got all medieval on his ass and start accusing him and then Dorrie and I go after one another, he gets between us and the next thing I know, that damned Amazeen bitch is there.” She clenched her fists. “I see that woman's face still and I see Kamerone on his knees as his wrists are being shackled and then I see Hael Sejm...."

"Bridie,” Beryla said, placing a hand over her friend's tightly clamped fist. “You can't dwell on that part of it. Try to think positively. Try to remember that there are eight strong, powerful men going after your husband and just know they will bring Kamerone back safely to you." "He's in her hands,” Bridie said. “He's in Sejm's evil hands and God only knows what that bitch is doing to him!" "Bridie..." "I want my husband!” Bridie cried, burying her face in her hands. “I want my Reaper!" Beryla reached out to take Bridie in her arms and to soothe her with long, gentle strokes of her hand down the younger woman's back. “You'll get him back, Bridget. I know you will,” she said softly. “He'll be back with you and sprawled on the sofa with bags of chips and bottles of salsa and six-packs of Pepsi and boxes of chocolate covered cherries and Sweet-Tarts and the gods only know what else he will want to pack into his cast iron stomach and you guys will be watching those vid-tapes of Jaelin growing up and laughing about his little antics." "Jaelin might well be grown by then,” Bridie said as she pushed away from Beryla and swiped at the treacherous tears. "True, but...” She stopped realizing what was buried beneath Bridie's words. “You worry he won't love you when he returns?" "Look at me,” Bridie said. “I was young and fairly attractive when he left. By the time he gets home, I'll be middle aged with sagging boobs and crow's feet and cellulite and..." "You'll be no such thing,” Beryla snapped. “Don't forget the laser instruments that can lift and smooth and erase..." "I'll beold , Beryla!” Bridie cried. “All the instruments Ro-Ro has developed as a by-product of her cancer work and all the collagen injections and laser applications in the world can't stop that!" Beryla reached over to take Bridie's hand. “What year is this, Bridie?” she asked. "2068,” Bridie answered without thinking. She frowned. “What difference does...?" "That might have been true when you left Terra the first time in 1994 but it isn't true now. The Terrans here have developed plastic surgery techniques almost as advanced as ours and the clinics are filled to overflowing with women and men—hell, even teenagers!—lining up to have work done on their bodies. People live to be well over one hundred as a matter of course. Why should you be any different and why should you have tolook like you're that old?” She grinned. “Think about it. You are actually eighty-four years old in Terran years." Bridie groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Don't remind me!" "Well, girl, think about me!” Beryla said. “I left Terra in 1973. I'm now at the ripe old age of one hundred and six and I don't feel a day over sixty!" "And don't look a day over forty,” Bridie complimented her.

Beryla grinned. “With the advanced procedures Ro-Ro and I have discovered, we can turn the clock back so you won't look a day older than you did when Kam left Terra. What was that? Thirty-two? Thirty-three?" Bridie tucked her lower lip between her teeth. “I'll still be old,” she complained. “My body is eventually going to catch up to my years." Beryla sighed. “Aye, well you're only as old as you want to be and as old as you feel,” she snapped. “I fully intend to have my face done as soon as I learn Lares is on his way back." "We talked about him giving me a parasite,” Bridie said and looked up to gauge Beryla's reaction. “We had bad arguments about it. He never wanted to live without me. I was terrified of receiving one of his fledglings. I didn't want it then, but now I wish I'd...” She shrugged. “I've been without him for six years and it might be another six or even longer before I see him again. I don't want to be on my deathbed when he comes home." Beryla surprised Bridie by smiling and wagging her eyebrows. “You want a fledgling?" Bridie felt a shiver run down her spine. “Do you have one of his revenants?" Beryla nodded. “He had me harvest one from him when you were in labor just in case. Kam was so afraid he'd lose you and although I was totally against it, I did as he asked. The thought sickened me at the time, but I've had a few years to think about it and I can see now where it might be of benefit. I've been feeding that little squiggly ever since and I'd be relieved to be rid of the babysitting.” She held up her hand before Bridie could speak. “But ... I think we should turn the hands of time back prior to making such a decision and I'll tell you why." Bridie was searching Beryla's eyes as the older woman made herself more comfortable on the blanket. "Okay,” Beryla said. “First of all, you know the recuperative power of a Reaper. A cut heals quickly and the flesh returns to normal." "I remember." "Well, if we are to do any cosmetic surgery on you, it must be done before you have a fledgling introduced else the creature will simply undo what we try to do afterward.” She arched a brow. “Do you understand?" Bridie's heartbeat had sped up. “Yes, I do." "So if you want to look as you did when Kam left here, we can do that, and then we can do the Transference. That way, you will always look as you did on the day the fledgling is given to you. There will be no aging for you, Bridget Cree." Bridie looked away from her friend. “I don't want him coming home to an old hag." "I understand that, and he doesn't have to,” Beryla said. “You have the means at hand to give him back the woman he fell in love with. The decision is yours." Jae and his friend were scuffling around on the grass and laughing as they tried to pin each other down. Even at six years of age, Jaelin had more physical endurance and strength than his eight year old friend

and easily got the better of Roy. He perched atop his friend and crowed, beating his little fists on his chest like a warrior of old. "I miss his father so much. I have to believe we'll be together again or I'll lose what little mind I have left,” Bridie said and sighed deeply. She turned to give her old friend a tremulous smile. Jaelin came running over and dropped down to his knees on the blanket. He looked first at his mother then to the woman he called his aunt. “What's up, dudettes?” he inquired. He slumped against his mother and looked up at her with his dark green eyes. Bridie encircled her son in her arms and bent over to place a kiss on his mop of dark curly brown hair. “We were just talking about your father,” Bridie said. Kamerone's son rolled the football around and around in his hands as he looked at Beryla. “What were you saying about him?" Beryla and Bridie exchanged a look. Bridie had been very circumspect in what she'd told Jaelin about his father. He was too young to hear what his father was and from where the man had come. He would not understand and such knowledge would be dangerous for a child to possess. "About how brave he is and how much we miss him,” Beryla answered. Jaelin craned his head and looked up at his mother. “But his men are going to bring him home from prison, right?" The young boy had been told his father worked for a secret government agency and that he was a prisoner of war, taken captive when Jaelin was a baby. There was only so much truth he could be given and so many lies Bridie had been willing to tell. "They are working to bring him home, sweetie,” Bridie said. Jaelin tossed the football into the air, watching its spiral spin. “I wish I could go see him,” he said. Her throat clogging with tears, Bridie ruffled her son's thick curls. “I wish I could, too,” Bridie said. "Hey, Jae!” Roy called out. “Come on, man! Let's play!" Jaelin sighed then eased out of his mother's loose grip. He turned, gave her a peck on the cheek, and then scrambled to his feet, running after his best friend. "It's scary how much he looks like Kam,” Beryla said. She stretched out until she was lying on her side, leaning on one elbow. “He is going to break a lot of hearts when he's older." "I'm so proud of him,” Bridie said. “He is so smart and he picks things up so quickly." "That's his Reaper genes at work,” Beryla said. "I know but there are other things that really amaze me,” she said. “Did I tell you he's learning to play the guitar?" Beryla nodded. “He'll have it mastered in no time if I know that little rapscallion. Like he did the piano."

Bridie laughed. “You know that high school letter jacket he found at Goodwill? The one with AHS on it?" "The one he'd sleep in if you'd let him?" "That's the one. I was watching him practice the piano yesterday and he was sitting there with that jacket on and I had this weird image of him suddenly going into Transition.” She shook her head. “Remember that old movieI Was A Teenage Werewolf ? It was like watching Michael Landon turning into the werewolf. I actually started laughing." Beryla frowned. “You're not worried about him going through puberty and having his first Transition?" "Oh, I'm worried, all right,” Bridie said. “I am terrified shitless of it and before that time comes I'm going to have to sit Jae down and explain to him about what will happen to him.” She plucked a blade of grass from the ground and twirled it between her fingers. “I'll take a month off and we'll go up to that cabin Ro-Ro owns up in the Black Hills of South Dakota—away from prying eyes—and I'll see him through his first Transition." "If you accept one of Kam's fledglings, that time may come sooner than you think,” Beryla said. “You'll have to have a containment cell built onto the house. How will you explain that?" "Bomb shelter,” Bridie said. “I've already thought of that and with the situation worsening in the Middle East, it won't seem so strange to the neighbors. You know how nosy Ione is." Although the house Bridie had purchased out in the county had no close neighbors, a woman down the road—whom Bridie had labeled the Neighborhood Watch—kept a close eye on the Cree house. Beryla thought of how Kam would react to Ione Wilkins when he got back and had to smile. "Well, let's hope Kam is back before any of that has to be done,” Beryla said. She nudged Bridie with a bare toe. “You know, he could be on his way home right now." Bridie felt her heart speed up at those words. She looked at her son, glanced around at the families fathered together in the park, and sighed wistfully. “I hope you are right." "So, what's it to be, Dunne?” Beryla asked. “Is Kam going to come home to a decrepit old woman who is so tired and bedraggled she can barely put one foot ahead of the other or are we going to give his cute Reaper ass something sweet to clamp onto?" Bridie drew in a long breath. “We give him something to really sink his fangs into,” she said then turned to give her friend a steady look. “All right. Make me beautiful, Beryla." "The gods already did that, sweetie,” Beryla said with a grin. “I'll just enhance it a bit for Kam." "Aye,” Bridie said. “For Kam."

Chapter Eighteen As the humans geared up for a fight with the ships advancing on them Troi stood with its cybot foot tapping out a slow rhythm on the deck as one finger tapped in counter rhythm on its lean jaw. Its eyes

were glowing a dull orange color. "What ails you, ‘bot?” Alexi Noll asked. The keeper was very fond of the AIU. "'I am wrapped in dismal thinkings',” the ‘bot replied. "How so?" "'Mine eye hath well examined his parts'." "Whose parts?" "There was another ‘bot on board the other Reaper's ship,” Paegan Thorne told Noll. Tylan looked around. “Another ‘bot?" "We can use this to our advantage, Kahn,"Khiershon interrupted Tylan's thoughts. "Aye. They sensed one another but didn't get the chance to communicate,” Thorne replied. “I think Troi is a mite upset." "Can you open a channel between the two ‘bots without anyone on the other ships knowing?” Tylan asked. "I believe so,” Thorne said and his hands flew over the keyboard. “And I'm doing this because?" "So we can coordinate maneuvers,” Tylan answered with a hiss. "Okay...” Thorne drawled. Troi suddenly snapped to attention. “'Who art thou?’” Over the vid-com came a strange voice: “'And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting!’” Troi did a little jig. “'He is a better scholar than I thought he was.’” "'Spirit! That dwellest where, In the deep sky!'” Raven cooed. "'But shall we dance, if they desire to't?'” Troi agreed. "Let them talk privately amongst themselves,” Tylan snapped. “We've got two ships almost up our tail pipes, gentlemen!" "We're programming our ‘bot now,"Khiershon sent to Tylan."We can catch your two ships between us and blow them out of the sky. The one on me is from Diabolusia and doesn't seem eager to engage us just yet." Tylan gripped the hands of the command chair as a violent explosion rocked the Vortex."Then let the ‘bots have at it, Cree!" He looked over at Noll. “Let Troi do his thing." The Vortex banked sharply to starboard as Troi took over the ship's controls, all the while keeping up a

steady conversation with his counterpart on theDarkWind . Their speech was digitalized and flitting so quickly across the screen no one could either hear or read it. "The Diabolusian ship is hailing us, Admiral,” Tealson Hesar spoke up from the communications desk. "Ignore it,” Tylan grated. He nearly fell out of his chair when another volley of laser pulses shot past the hull of the Vortex. "They took off our gods-be-damned weapons array!” Taborn spat. "Get that fucking Diabolusian bitch out of our way so we can vaporize those other two ships,” Tylan shouted. "No! She's friendly,"Khiershon sent. “I repeat. The Diabolusian is friendly." "Are you sure?"Kahn asked. "Aye." The two Multitude ships were firing their weapons at theVortex as the Rysalian ship's computer was being programmed by its ‘bot to fire in unison with theDarkWind to take out the two Multitude ships. A laser blast from theDarkWind hit one of the Multitude ships and it vanished in a pulsing mist of bright yellow light. But the jubilation felt by the men on the Vortex was short lived. A tremendous explosion ripped through the hull of theVortex and the ship started plummeting, spinning wildly out of control as it fell. Troi toppled over and skidded across the deck to land against the elevator wall. "'Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused',” the ‘bot grumbled, struggling to get up but its legs kept skidding out from under it. "'And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming',” Raven pronounced. "Cree?” Kahn bellowed out loud. “We're going down!" "We're bringing you on board, Kahn. Hold on!” Khiershon yelled over the vid-com. One moment the men of theVortex were being tossed like leaves in a harsh wind and the next they were standing on the bridge of theDarkWind alongside Troi. They stumbled as another savage explosion rippled through the heavens and theDarkWind shook. "Got her!” Iyan McGregor shouted as the second Multitude ship vanished in a fiery red ball of fire. The DarkWind shuddered as the percussion wave rippled over it then stilled. Tylan Kahn bent over and clasped his knees, breathing heavily to get his nerves under control. He had thought sure he was a goner along with the Vortex and was relieved to know he'd live to fight another day. “Son-of-a-bitch,” he whispered. “I thought we were goners." Raven sidled over to Troi and looked the other ‘bot up and down. “'If I live a thousand years, I can never forget the intense emotion with which I regarded this figure.’”

Troi bowed elegantly to his counterpart. “'Your faithful subject I, a gentleman'.” The ‘bot straightened. “'In kissing, do you render or receive?’” "Oh, shit,” Iyan gasped. “Is that ‘bot asking what I think it's asking?" Raven sighed loudly. “'From childhood's hour I have not been as others were',” it answered. Troi smiled. “'I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee',” the cybot said and extended its arm to Raven. The two ‘bots sidled off, their heads bent together and their language once more going much too fast for human ears to understand. "Ewww,” Raine McGregor said. “That's just wrong." Khiershon came over to Kahn and held out his hand. “Admiral Kahn, I am Cree." Kahn took the strong arm in his warrior fashion and shook it. “It is my honor to meet the eldest of the Prime and you have our gratitude for saving our asses." The Reaper smiled. “You have my thanks for providing a playmate for Raven." "Believe me the pleasure is all mine,” Tylan grumbled. “Why your bloodsire felt the need to program that monstrosity with Shakespearean verse boggles the mind." Khiershon hooked a finger down the bridge of his nose. “Well, I, ah, programmed Raven with verse from Edgar Allan Poe." "Like father, like son,” Taborn concluded and stuck out his hand. “I am Taborn, former prince of Necroman and boon friend of the Prime." "You are a warrior of great reputation, Your Grace,” Khiershon replied as he greeted Taborn. He glanced around at Caitlin. “May I present my wife, Caitlin." "As lovely as her mother-in-law,” Taborn complimented Caitlin. “A Celtic lady, as well?" "I am,” Caitlin said. "My second in command,” Khiershon said, nodding toward Iyan. “Iyan McGregor." As the men and women of theDarkWind were introduced to Tylan and his band of warrior brethren, Raine walked over to Iyan. “I believe we're cousins,” Raine said, taking Iyan's arm in greeting. “I am Raine McGregor." "Your Grace!” Iyan said and would have knelt before his prince but Raine kept hold of his arm and would not allow it. "I am just Raine,” McGregor said. “The title is long gone." "It need not be,” Iyan said. “You would be welcomed on Serenia."

"I would like to think so but my home is now on Terra and once I have my woman back...” He frowned. “Do you know anything of Dorrie Burkhart?” He looked at the others. “Have you any information on her? She was with Kamerone." "I'm sorry but the name isn't familiar. She is most likely with the Amazeen ship,” Caitlin said. “They are docked on Rysalia Prime." "Kam will take good care of her, McGregor,” Taborn stated. Tylan glanced at the vid-com screen where an image of the Diabolusian ship was showing. “I expected them to attack us." "Apparently the captain is a woman who had her crew stand down as soon as she found out there was a Reaper on theDarkWind . She and her women were on the way to the Feast to try to save my bloodsire from execution,” Khiershon said. “She will go back with us and run interference if we need it." "So not all the women in this part of the megaverse hate Kamerone Cree,” Taborn said. "Far from it, actually,” Khiershon said. “According to Captain Vargas, there are more who believe the Multitude betrayed him than there are those who would like to see him burn." "And especially after it was learned he was the recipient of Attribution not once but three times,” came a heavily-accented voice over the vid-com. “You can not but admire such a man." The men turned to see a lovely woman with long dark hair standing with her hands folded at her waist. "I am Captain Elena Vargas and it is my pleasure to meet the esteemed Tylan Kahn.” Her dark green eyes glowed with something other than respect. “Your reputation precedes you, Admiral." Tylan smiled, arching one dark brow. “Is that so?" "Perhaps we could discuss your accomplishments in depth over a glass of Chalean brandy once we have the Prime Reaper safe?" Kahn's smile wavered. “I will be returning to Terra as quickly as possible, Captain, but if you're ever in my neck of the woods, I'd love to buy you a glass of something I've found to be far more powerful than Chalean brandy." "There is such a thing?” she asked breathlessly, flicking her tongue out to lick her upper lip. Kahn drew in a sharp breath. “Aye. It is Greek liquor called ouzo and it runs rings around any brandy I've ever tasted,” he told her. "Stop flirting,” Taborn snapped. “We've a friend to rescue, Kahn." "I just might journey with you through the wormhole for a taste of your ... ah, liquor ... Admiral,” Vargas said in a sultry voice. She flicked an irritated look over Taborn then the vid-com screen went black. "Spoil sport,” Kahn grumbled at Taborn. Taborn sniffed. He looked at Khiershon. “We will need a larger ship to convey us back to Terra, son of

Cree. We need containment cells and E.S.U.s and..." "And we have such a vessel,” Khiershon told him. “It is a Class 9 StarRaider currently under the command of an Amazeen warrioress and.... “He glanced at Raine. “Your cousin Maeve Lynne." "Little Maeve Lynne?” Raine said. “She was in swaddling when last I saw her!” He slapped a hand to the side of his head as though memory had been jogged. “And she is your little sister, is she not, Iyan?" TheDarkWind's 2-I-C bobbed his head. “Aye, but she's not an infant now and she does our name proud,” Iyan told Raine. "We'll head straight to Serenia and exchange vessels,” Khiershon said. “The StarRaider is large enough to easily hold two hundred crewmen and more than enough fuel for two trips and back to Terra." "I don't believe we'll be coming back, young Cree,” Tylan said. “If there are those who wish to go—and stay—then they'd best decide before we head to Montyne Vex. There will be no turning back." Caitlin looked at her husband. “Khier, we need to take the men of theOrion back with us." Khiershon thought of the medivac ship's crewmen and nodded. “Aye, we will, Cait." "And there's the problem of Triso and Sustenance,” Barb Fuller spoke up. “We'll need to stockpile plenty." "That's a given,” Khiershon agreed. He looked to his Com Off. “Dak, open a channel to our base on Serenia and make sure they get all that ready for us—including the men of theOrion . We don't want to be there any longer than necessary." "I hate to interrupt, but the Feast is within a few hours, gentlemen,” Nyndam Dax reminded them. “We should be making our way back to Rysalia Prime." "If they'll let us anywhere near the planet,” Iyan snapped. “After Caitlin pulled our asses out of orbit, we'll be on their foig list." "Get bent, Iyan,” Caitlin snapped. "My bloodsire wants us close,” Khiershon said, “but I don't think we need to be in orbit around Rysalia Prime. Remember there is also the Necromanian ship sitting out there cloaked and Raphaella is standing by, as well. It's better to be at his back to hold off the pursuers." Taborn's chin came up. “My people are there?" "The captain is a Necromanian prince,” Khiershon said. “I'm sorry but I can't give you his name. The Prime did not tell me." "It must be one of my brother's brats,” Taborn said, nodding. “I would say either Kamau or Tirj.” He grinned. “And they have cloaking capability. That is welcome news.” His smile faded suddenly and he swallowed loudly. “Ah, are there women with my people?" Khiershon cocked a shoulder. “I have no way of knowing."

"I'd say you just turned pale, dark man, but how would I know?” Kahn asked with a nasty smirk. “Is there a certain woman you hope you don't run into here?" Taborn growled but did not answer. Khiershon looked to Dakim Hesar who was laughing with Tealson Hesar. It was obvious the two men were related and had been happy to see one another. “Dak, inform Captain Vargas we're heading back now and to fall in behind us." "Aye, aye, sir!” Hesar replied. "I wish I knew what Kam had planned,” Tylan said. "He said to let him handle it,” Khiershon said. “After all, he is the Prime."

Chapter Nineteen As the morning sun rose over Rysalia Prime, the rain clouds began dispersing. The sodden gray sky boiled as the light beams beat back the darkness. It had stormed all night with vicious lightning strikes spearing down all around the cage in which Kamerone Cree had sat hunched over and miserable. His headache had returned with a vengeance. There was nowhere for him to lie down to ease the brutal pain for the concrete slab upon which the iron cage sat had an uneven floor and puddles spread out in all directions. He looked longingly at the soggy lump that had been his pillow and sighed. How he wished he could lay his head upon something soft and giving. "Like my lady's sweet little belly,” he said wistfully as he sat with his arms locked around his raised knees. His thoughts were on Bridget—as they had been all during the violent storm. His lady hated bad weather though he reveled in it for it was then he could hold her tightly to him to keep at bay the terrors that so frightened her when the lightning jagged and shrieked across the heavens. "What are you doing right now, my love?” he asked, his amber eyes glazed over with longing and loneliness. Mentally calculating that their son would be of school age now, he wondered if she had decided to home school him as had been her intent before her husband had been stolen from her. Pain lanced through his heart and he put up a hand to scrub at his tired face. He had not closed his eyes all night for the events of the coming day preyed heavily upon his mind. He had no doubt that those who were intent on helping him and his bloodkin would do all they could but there were always the vagaries of fate and he did not trust the word of the goddess who had promised Her aid. He wanted no one to trip in harm's way because of him ... especially not the young men who bore the same burden of genetic torture that he had lived with all his life. "Taegin Kullen is the oldest,” Sern had told him. “Rylan and his twin Braiden Cree are next in age. The two youngest are yours: Corydon and Kaelan." Four of his own bloodsons were interned within the Titaness as well as one each of his cousins’ offspring. The gods only knew what tortures the men had undergone.

"Ghrian Tohre, Eachan Gehdrin, Toryn Belial, Killian Kiel, and Comyn Coure,” Sern had reported. There were bloodsons of all seven of the original Reapers still alive and Kamerone wanted to make sure it stayed that way. Their fathers had died in the very place where he now sat and that knowledge hurt him deeply. "Please don't abandon us, Alel,” he prayed to his god then looked up at the heavens. “God and Mother of my lady's god, please grant us Your aid, as well. We need all the help we can get." One of his bloodsons was missing and he could only hope Sajin was somewhere safe and unlikely to be snared in the Multitude's net. The only consolation he had concerning that particular bloodson was if Sajin did manage to get caught, LeJong Kym would somehow keep him safe. Forcing his mind from thoughts of the other Reapers, Cree took a deep breath and released it slowly. He pictured Bridie in his mind's eye and held her there, his mental touch lingering on her beautiful green eyes, her sweet smile, and her lush body that held him in such rapt desire. Slowly he closed his eyes and imagined he could feel her soft hand upon his aching brow to soothe away the crippling pain. He pictured her walking beside him in a field of tall grass and even thought he could smell the sweetness of newly-mown hay drifting under his nose. Focusing on Bridget, he could almost feel her fingers entwined with his as they walked through the grass. He could almost sense the pulse of her heart beating in tune with his through their touch. How he longed to hold her, to kiss her, to lie beside her once again. The ache in his heart was like a living entity as it called out to her. She was his very life and without her he simply existed. Life would not begin again until she was in his arms. If he could not return to her, he did not want to go on living. "I love you with all my heart, Bridget,” he said. He squeezed his eyes together in concentration and sent his emotions out into the megaverse, flinging them toward that small blue-green planet on which his lady and his son dwelt. “You are my heart." He imagined he could hear her laughing as she tugged at his hand to draw him up a hill covered with wildflowers. A soft wind plied her lovely body and wafted her hair behind her as she led him on. The leaves rustled. Birds sang. Crickets chirped. "Come on, slowpoke!” he could hear her say. They had almost reached the top of the hill when she let go of his hand and kept running, hiking her long skirt up, bare legs flashing as she called out to him. "Hurry up, Kami!" "I am coming, Bridie,” he said aloud. “I...." A deep resonating gong rang out over the courtyard and Kamerone's eyelids flew open. He lifted his head. Twice more the gong sounded with a slow, deep cadence. After a few seconds pause, the gong sounded three more times. Instinctively knowing something was about to happen Kamerone got to his feet. He walked over to the bars of the cage and curled his fingers around the cold iron. There was no sign of movement in the buildings surrounding him, no women roaming about. For the third time the slow, methodic beat of the

gong echoed three times over the empty courtyard. Cree had counted ten beats between the second set of tones and the third. Once more he counted to ten and on the eleventh beat a loud, pealing bell began to toll. The first woman came out of the Titaness. In her right hand she carried a tall staff with a crescent moon perched on its top. Dressed in scarlet robes, the woman was barefoot, her long brown hair swinging almost to her knees as she walked slowly toward the poles. "It's too soon for this,” Kamerone said to himself. The executions weren't to begin until later in the morning. From the Titaness four more women came—each dressed in a scarlet robe. They seemed to be marching to the steady peal of the loud bell reverberating over the courtyard. When he saw his blood daughter Kate dressed in a long, flowing white robe, he pulled savagely against the bars. “No!” he yelled for the young woman's wrists were tied in front of her. There was no doubt in his mind that the female Reaper was marching to her death. “By the gods, no! Kathleen!" Four more women clad in scarlet robes marched behind Kate as the young woman was led to the center pole in the line. No one looked his way or appeared to hear his shouting. "Don't do this!” Kamerone shouted, jerking against the bars. “Kathleen!" None of the women—including Kate—glanced his way. As Kate was lashed to the pole, her eyes were straight ahead of her. "What did she do?” the Prime Reaper called out. “You made her what she is and now you're punishing her for it?” He yanked viciously on the bar, the iron rattling but holding. “Don't do this! Please don't do this!" "Rest easy, my sire,"Kate sent to him. “Your enemies are dead and will not cause you further grief." "Kathleen, no,” he whispered, laying his head on the iron bars. She turned her face toward him and a smile hovered on her pretty mouth. "They were going to betray you yet again,"she told him."That I could not allow." He saw it all in a flash across his subconscious. Kate had gone to the room of the Prophetess-Mother to kill her and had overheard the evil woman planning with Delyn Sorn to poison the Reapers with garlic concentrate and Maiden's Briar before they could be burned the following morning. They had wanted to take no chance a rescue could be undertaken or that Kamerone Cree would escape the death they had planned for him as well. "I could not allow it to happen,"Kate sent to him as the scarlet clad women moved away from the platform on which Kate was bound. Kate had taken the lives of both Cyle Acet and Delyn Sorn before going after the woman sent to poison the other Reapers. It was as she attacked the woman that she had been discovered and arrested, condemned by her crimes despite LeJong Kym's attempt to save her.

"Do not blame the new Prophetess-Mother,"Kate said. “She did all she could to help me." "Kathleen,” he said again, his heart breaking. “I am sorry." The woman with the staff pointed it toward Kate. "I'm not,” came his blood daughter's last words. Fire flashed from the staff's crescent moon and the white silk gown covering Kate's body went up in immediate flames, burning much brighter and hotter than they should have. No doubt the material from which the gown had been made had been drenched in some kind of accelerant. Tears ran down the Prime Reaper's face and as the first horrific scent of burning flesh wafted to his nostrils to take him forcibly back to his cousin's hideous deaths, he turned his head and threw up, sagging to his knees, his palms scraping down the rough surface of the iron bars. As the body of the female Reaper burned, the women in the scarlet robes turned and began filing back into the Titaness. Not once had they turned their eyes toward the grieving man whose sobs could be heard in the still morning light but every woman in the courtyard was aware of his grief, of him slamming his forehead against the bars in anguish. "Do you hear?” one woman whispered. “He is crying." "Reapers don't cry,” another said and swiped at the tears streaking down her own cheeks. "That one does,” the first woman said brokenly. "And it breaks my heart to hear it,” the other woman stated. From the window of her office LeJong Kym had watched the horrific execution. She had not been able to prevent Kate's punishment for the girl had been caught red-handed by the guards, defiantly bragging of the three lives she had taken. It was bad enough she had killed Sorn and Sorn's henchwoman but to have assassinated the Prophetess-Mother had called for the young woman's immediate execution. There had been no saving Kathleen. Shaking her head, Kym turned away. "Milady?” Shei-Ling inquired, taking a step toward her mistress. Kym held up her hand to stay her. “No,” she said, her shoulders drooping. "It was better to have sacrificed one life than to lose twelve,” Shei-Ling said softly. "I know but even one is too many,” Kym whispered. "All is in readiness and as soon as the young Reapers are secured to the poles, the extractions can begin and this will all be over." "Were the disruptors put into place on the other starships in the docking hub?” Kym asked. "As you ordered,” Shei-Ling said. “It will take close to an hour for the damage done to be repaired. By then, theAlluvia and those ships guarding her will be long gone."

Kym raised her head. “Make sure any ship that tries to stop them is put off line quickly. I want them to have a clean getaway." "It will be as you order,” Shei-Ling said with a bow. "And the wormhole?" Shei-Ling frowned. “I wish you would reconsider closing it. What if...?" "No one will go after him again,” Kym said, her eyes blazing. “I will not have him looking over his shoulder waiting for another team to fuck with his life! He has had enough pain and torment. He needs no more!" "But what if we find his last bloodson?” Shei-Ling asked. “There will be no way to send that one to the Prime." Kym shook her head. “That can not be helped. Kamerone is more important to me than any of his bloodkin. I will see that man safe and out of harm's way once and for all!” She walked back to the window to stare down at the Reaper. Cree was sitting cross-legged with his head down, his fingertips massaging his temples. Kym's brow furrowed. “I am worried about his headaches,” she said. Shei-Ling glanced out the window. “How so, Your Eminence?" "I know his anatomy like the back of my hand and I have studied the data on the micro-receivers they placed in his brain. I fear one—maybe more—have migrated and are causing these severe migraines." "Is there anything to be done?" "I am going to collect all the disklettes that pertain to him and his bloodkin, anything that might be of help to them, and turn the data over to Kahmal. I will also include the biomaps and instruments needed to remove those implants. Perhaps Beryla Dean will find a way to take out the M-R's so these men won't have to live with those debilitating headaches.” She laid the palm of her hand on the glass as she watched Cree. “With him, I am so afraid there is much damage being done to his neuropathways from those gods-be-damned implants." "Will not his parasite heal him?" "Aye, but there is no need for him to be suffering when it can be eliminated.” Kym sighed. “Go take him his morning Triso. Draw up a half again as much as normal. When you've done, come back here. I have another task for you." "Aye, Your Eminence,” Shei-Ling replied and hurried to do her mistress’ bidding. "I will take care of you, Kam,” Kym said as she sat down at her desk, unlocked a drawer where she'd stored the box of disklettes for Kahmal and the brass-studded box that contained the specialized instruments used in the implantation process. “By all that is holy, I will."

Chapter Twenty Shei-Ling approached the cage cautiously, looking around her for any suspicious eyes that might be watching. “Milord Cree?” she called out. The Prime Reaper lifted his head. He saw the vac-syringe in her hand but didn't even protest as he got to his feet and walked over to the bars. “My morning joy juice, eh?" "With a little extra kick to try to knock out that headache,” she said. He stood still as she swabbed his neck and quickly administered the burning liquid, barely flinching for his mind was elsewhere. "All is in readiness,” Shei-Ling said as she withdrew the needle. “I am sorry for the loss of your blood daughter." He nodded and rubbed absently at the stinging pain in his neck. “Tell LeJong I am grateful for all she's done.” He looked into Shei-Ling's eyes. “And for everything you've done, milady." "I've one last errand to run before the festivities begin,” Shei-Ling said. “I will extend your goodbyes to Her Eminence." "Aye, do that and tell her.... “He half-smiled. “Tell her I wish for the Wind to be always at her back." Shei-Ling reached through the bars and laid her hand on his cheek. “As those of us from the Multitude wish the same for you, Milord Cree." Cree watched her hurry back into the building and was still watching when she came out again and headed for the docking station. He saw she was carrying something in her hand and wondered what Kym was sending to Kahmal now. "Thank you, LeJong,” he whispered, closing his eyes to send the subliminal to the woman who had risked so much to keep him and his safe. **** Kahmal shook hands with Shei-Ling and asked her to extend blessings to the Prophetess-Mother. “Tell her all is in readiness and we will not fail." Shei-Ling frowned. “Did anyone from the Festival committee come to assign you places of honor in the courtyard?" "Some fat bitch did, but I told her we would have a better seat watching from our vid-com than being pushed and shoved in the courtyard with thousands of other women,” Kahmal said with a snort. “When she would have protested that at least I as the one who captured Kamerone Cree should be attendance to watch his bloodkin executed, I reminded her Amazeen warrioresses did not like to be rub shoulders with those we consider beneath us and I let her know by my glare how I felt about her. She hastened to leave." "So no one should question why you are not highly visible."

"Even if they do, it doesn't matter,” Kahmal stated. Shei-Ling grinned. “May the Wind be always at your back, Major, and the goddess with you." "She will be,” Kahmal replied. Turning to go, Shei-Ling stopped then snapped her fingers together and spun back around. “By the way, the other ships here on the hub have been disabled so no one will be following you out the iris. You don't have to worry about it cycling open, either. That's been taken care of. As soon as the last Reaper is shackled to the pole, engage your engines and snatch them up. There will be enough noise that no one will notice you blasting out of here." "Let's hope not,” Kahmal said. "I believe you can count on it, Major,” Shei-Ling assured her. **** Prince Kamau Taborn and the members of his Necromanian crew were just outside the gravitational pull of Rysalia Prime with the Scaan technology cloaking in place. Not a single ship had been aware of the LRC as it sat there on the edge of orbit. "Fifteen minutes until the festivities begin,” Prince Kamau's Com Officer reported. "Power up our weapons,” Kamau ordered, “just in case.” He looked to the Navigational Officer. “Are you locked on to the other three ships?" "The StarRaider is about four clicks larboard,” the Nav Off reported. “TheDarkWind and the Diabolusian ship are two clicks beyond them to the starboard." "What of the Amazeen ship?" "It's still in its docking harness inside the hub and the engines have yet to engage." Kamau bit down on the cuticle on his thumb nail. It was a nervous habit his men knew all too well. “And the princess Zainabu? Is she safely on the Amazeen vessel?" The Nav Off nodded. “Aye, Your Grace, she is." Breathing out a long breath at that news, Kamau nodded. “Good. As long as she is safe." The Nav Off and Com Off exchanged glances. Everyone on the Necromanian ship was aware how the princess felt toward the J'Bai of Prince Lares Taborn. **** In the cargo hold of the StarRaider Raphaella Constantine and Maeve Lynne McGregor were going over the cases of Triso and Sustenance the Amazeen had had the foresight to include among their supplies. "There should be enough but perhaps we might take on more before we set out for Terra,” Maeve Lynne suggested. "Before we left I told the lab people to brew more just in case and to have the ancillary step up on

collecting Sustenance,” Raphaella said. “I hope I thought of everything although I certainly didn't count on there being another Reaper.” She tapped her foot. “Perhaps we should have another con cell or two added once we get back to Corinth." "Captain Cree should be proud of you, Raphie,” Maeve Lynne said. “You are looking after him and his bloodkin." "Better than that Terran healer ever could,” Raphaella snapped. “When we get to Terra, I plan on ridding him of that bitch Caitlin!" Maeve Lynne made no reply for everyone knew once a Reaper mated, it was for life. Getting rid of Caitlin Kelly would make no difference in how Khiershon Cree would feel toward the Amazeen—and especially not if Raphaella harmed Caitlin in any way. "Let's head for the bridge,” Raphaella said. “The show is about to begin!" **** Khiershon Cree was pacing the bridge of theDarkWind . Iyan had taken the command chair with the former admiral of the Rysalian Fleet Command sitting beside him. He was worried about the Triso and Sustenance on their ship. He had not given his bloodkin a thought as he prepared to go after them and that had been a major mistake that could lead to an even bigger calamity. "What if one of my bloodkin is in Transition or near to it?” he asked, stopping to stare at Iyan. "Let your bloodsire worry about that,” Tylan said. “Once he has them on the Amazeen ship, he can assess the situation and will let you know if he needs to put one or more of them into confinement." "Will he have Triso do you think?” Caitlin asked. She was sitting beside Tylan Kahn in the chair reserved for the ship's healer. "By the gods I hope so because I have very little with us,” Khiershon said. "We can get more on Corinth,” Iyan reminded him. "Is that why you're digging a hole in the deck?” Caitlin questioned. “Are you worried there won't be enough Triso to last us to Terra?" Khiershon plowed a hand a hand through his thick brown hair. “That and Sustenance." "Sustenance shouldn't be a problem,” Iyan said. “Between the Amazeen crew, the crew from theOrion , Admiral Kahn and his men, as well as any others willing to go to Terra with us, the issue of Sustenance is handled." "So then it's just the Triso that is the problem,” Caitlin said. "And that's a helluva big problem,” Khiershon reminded her. **** Captain Elena Vargas on the Diabolusian ship, thePantera , was thinking the same thing and wondering if the problem with Triso had been adequately covered. She had a crew of fifteen women—including herself—and had every intention of going to Terra with the luscious Tylan Kahn. She and her women

could provide Sustenance for the Reapers but the drug those warriors needed to keep them out of indiscriminate Transition was of the utmost importance. "Teniente Ortez, on un canal seguro informa al DarkWind que nos romperemos lejos y los contestaremos cerca de Chale. Necesitamos tomar algo de mi familia en Diabolusia,"she told her Com Officer. "Aye, Capitaine!” Ortez replied. She opened up a secure channel and hailed theDarkWind . “ DarkWind, this is the Pantera. The Capitaine wishes me to inform you that we will be breaking away and will rejoin you near Chale. We need to pick up something from her family on Diabolusia." **** "What? Why the hell is she...?” Khiershon snarled at his Com Off Dakin Hesar. "Vargas Pharmaceuticals is the galaxy's premier supplier of industrial strength tenerse,” Sinjin Wynth informed his captain on the DarkWind. "I don't give a gods-be-damned..." "Tenerse,” Caitlin said. “Think about it, Khier." "I don't..." "Tenerse,” Caitlin stressed, staring into her husband's eyes. “But you call it..." A light seemed to go on behind the Reaper's eyes. “Triso,” Khiershon said with a sigh and closed his eyes slowly, his lips moving as though he were praying. "She's going after Triso for our Reapers,” Tylan said. He grinned. “I knew I liked that woman the minute I saw her." Khiershon opened his eyes. “Thank Captain Vargas for me and tell her we'll be watching for her near Chale. Make sure she knows we won't leave without her." Troi rolled by with Raven close behind. “'Alls well that ends well',” the ‘bot giggled. "'She covered me warm, and she prayed to the angels to keep me from harm— To the queen of the angels to shield me from harm,’ “Raven agreed as it took its position by Troi near the weapons com. "'I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name,'” Troi agreed. **** "Coordinates for the Triso and Sustenance are locked in and on sequence to be transported up as soon as the last Reaper is on board,” Lt. Melankhoia Chanz told Kahmal. “Kam will be the last one we bring up." "And would have it no other way,” Kahmal said quietly. "Don't forget the Reapers will be heavily drugged withcéasadh ,” Lt. Renata Aegean reminded her

fellow crewwomen. “They'll be disoriented and no doubt in pain." "Testy Reapers aren't a pretty sight, either,” Augenia Deon quipped. "Cree will handle them once he's on board,” Kahmal said. Ceatie—the weretiger—insinuated his head under Cirolia Sern's arm and mewed. Sern scratched the old were beast under his ear. “He'll be with us soon enough, baby. Don't worry." "What about the destruction of Room B?” Lt. Cedilla Tyrian asked. "Room B is set to be taken out as soon as we start out the iris,” her fellow engineer Chanz informed her. "Everything is ready, ladies,” Kahmal said as she took her seat in the command chair. “Pray to Alluvial everything goes as planned." "They are coming out,” Princess Zainabu Waberi said, pointing to the vid-com screen. **** "The Festival is about to start,” Nyndham Dax informed the crew of theDarkWind . “The doors of the Titaness are opening." "Doors are opening,"Sern sent to Kamerone Cree. **** The Prime Reaper got to his feet and turned to face the prison in which his bloodkin had been incarcerated. He ran his sweaty palms down the legs of his jumpsuit and licked his suddenly dry lips just as the first gong echoed over the courtyard. Stepping up to the bars he saw the women beginning to gather in the courtyard. To him, it seemed as though the females were pouring out of every crack and crevice surrounding the buildings circling him. That was unnerving enough but the fact that they were completely silent as they approached made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Not even the shuffle of their feet or the rustle of the long pale blue robes they wore broke the stillness. The only sound was the rhythmic bang of the low gong as the women filled the courtyard to near bursting. From out of the Titaness came three women marching side by side. Dressed in lavender robes they were followed by three more sets of women and behind them walked the Prophetess-Mother LeJong Kym in a robe of deep purple. A space had been left for the twelve priestesses to take their position in front of the semi-circle of eleven poles to which the Reapers would be led to their deaths. A gilt chair had been arranged directly in front of the place where the priestesses stood and it was to this throne-like seat that LeJong moved. When she was seated, the gong stopped. Stillness, silence, the complete and utter lack of sound made Cree uneasy as he gripped the bars of his cage. His gaze was glued to the entrance of the Titaness, his nerves stretched taut as he waited to see his bloodkin. Until he actually could reach out and touch them, he would not cease to worry and the longer the time ticked away, the more uneasy he became. "Please, Alluvial,” he begged, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “Please. Do as You swore. I humbly

beseech You, please!" The thought of his bloodkin dying before his eyes was a horror paused at the back of Kamerone Cree's brain. Not even the massive agony beating at his temples could blot out the fear he felt or the exacting worry that was all but crippling him. In his nostrils he could smell the scents of his cousins dying in the very cage in which he stood trembling and that smell was washing over him in waves of terror. The Prime Reaper jumped as a deep, resonant bell began to toll and his eyelids flew open. It was almost as though the sound was throbbing in his head and it increased, magnified the pain of the headache that was slowly driving him insane. It was the sound of chains rattling in counterpoint to the loud bell that made Kamerone Cree's heart beat faster. Sweat was standing out on his forehead and upper lip and running down from his arm pits and along the center of his chest. His breathing was harsh as he waited for the first of his kind to exit the Titaness. At the twelfth peal of the bell, the first prisoner dressed in a gleaming white jumpsuit Cree knew was made from the same material Kate had worn to her execution came out of the prison. Kaelan Cree—the youngest of the Reapers—could feel the heavy pull of the manacles dragging upon his arms. The iron was cutting into his flesh so tightly he was bleeding and the neuroleptors he'd been injected with before being escorted from his cell was magnifying the pain a thousand times over. It had been months since he'd seen the sun and the light was invading his eyes like daggers of glass. He squinted, seeing only a mass of blue-clad bodies lining the cobblestone walkway over which he passed, but deeply inhaling the sweet, fresh air that wafted over him. Behind Kaelan was the next youngest, Eachan Gehdrin, and in order of their ages: Comyn Coure, Killian Kiel, Corydon Cree, Toryn Belial, Ghrian Tohre, Braiden Cree then his twin Rylan, and finally Taegin Kullen, the eldest. The only one struggling was Taegin and he was fiercely hissing at his captors, cursing them with words meant to insult and degrade. "Be still, Taegin,"Kamerone whispered to his blood nephew. Taegin stumbled to a stop as Kaelan was forced up onto the platform and his arms bound behind him to the pole. “Prime?” he asked. "In the cage, Taegin." Taegin craned his neck to look around the sea of women but could only see the curved iron of the cage's roof. He hissed at the woman beside him. "Do not embarrass your father, Taegin,"the Prime Reaper ordered."He was a brave man." Taegin lifted his chin and clamped his lips shut, stumbling forward as he was pushed rudely by his guard while Eachan was lashed securely to his pole. He cast his enraged glower over the women, hating each and every woman of them to the depths of his being. One by one the young Reapers were pushed up the steps of the platform and secured to the gleaming poles—the center one of which still bore the flame-marks where Kathleen had met her fate. With the Reapers chained to the poles, ten women in scarlet exited the Titaness, bringing with them the staffs upon which a crescent moon perched. Each of the women took their position in front of a Reaper and then stood at parade rest: staff held at an angle from their bodies, free hand bent behind their backs.

Another woman—dressed in black robes—came out of the Titaness carrying the Labrys, the double-headed ritual battle ax that symbolized the matristic power of the Multitude. Kamerone held his breath as LeJong Kym got to her feet and took the Labrys from the High Priestess of Rituals. “Please, Alluvial,” he prayed again. “Don't fail us." Kym walked to the edge of the platform and held the Labrys toward the heavens. “Oh, Majesty of the Multitude, Fruitful Mother of us all: Hear our prayer!” she chanted. "Hear our prayer!” came the united response from the women. The Prophetess-Mother lifted her other arm to the morning sky. “You have led us from our misery, oh, Mother of us all!” she cried out. "You have led us!" "You have taught us the pathways to peace and prosperity!" "You have taught us!" "You have granted us the fulfillment of our bodies and souls!" "You have granted us!" "You have graced us with the wisdom to rule our world with a just hand and a pure heart!" "You have graced us!" "You have protected us from the savagery of the male who abused us and enslaved us; who murdered our Sisters with impunity and slew our offspring!" "You have protected us!" "And you have given us your Majestic help to set right the wrong that was done to our Sisters on this very night so long ago!" "You helped us!" LeJong Kym brought her arms down from the heavens to which she had cast her prayer and extended her left hand toward the men bound to the poles. “May the Wind be with you,” she said softly beneath her breath. The ten scarlet-robed women snapped to attention with their bare heels clicking together then extended their staffs toward the bound men.

Chapter Twenty-One As fire sprayed from the staffs toward the Reapers, an ultra bright blast of light slashed over the courtyard and the women gathered there stumbled back, throwing up their arms to shield their eyes from

the bright illumination. The air sizzled and crackled and snapped, grew intensely hot—so hot the women cried out and fled the super-charged heat, falling over one another to put distance between them and the blistering energy building over the courtyard. Cree could not see what was happening on the platform. The wild shrieks of the fleeing women, the screams, the saturated heat undulating him toward him in waves combined to intensify his unease and he shouted at the running women, yelled out for LeJong Kym. He thrust his arm through the bars trying to catch a passing woman but she clawed at him, raked his hand with her fingernails, and pulled away savagely. He jerked at the bars, screaming at the running women. When the smell of burning flesh finally registered on his consciousness, he threw back his head and howled. **** TheAlluvia shot out of the iris faster than any ship had ever left the docking station—so fast a wing clipped the opening and sheared off a section of the iris’ titanium skin. Behind the departing ship, a loud explosion rocked through the Fleet Command and jagged stone flew high into the air, crashing down into the courtyard and into the waters of the Reflecting Pool. Banking sharply to starboard, the Amazeen vessel shot into hyper drive, leaving in its wake three other ships that were struggling to follow. Dorrie Burkhart struggled to get up from the transporter pad but her feet slid out from under her and she went careening against the bulkhead, slamming shoulder first into the unforgiving wall. “Son of a fucking bitch!” Dorrie bellowed. All around her, what she realized must be Cree's bloodkin were trying to gain their footing as the ship upon which they found themselves went careening hell bent through the heavens, moving so fast they were pressed heavily to the deck. "Where is he?” Dorrie shouted, trying to see Kamerone amidst the men. “Where is Cree?" Toryn Belial was the first of them to be able to get to his feet and he stood pushed up tight to the wall behind him, unable to do more than move his head. “Where is the Prime?” he asked for all he counted was the woman and his nine bloodkin. "Cree!” Dorrie screamed. “Cree!" Ghrian Tohre was cradling his left arm in his hand. The flesh was burned all the way to the bone and he was shivering with the intensified pain caused by thecéasadh invading his system. He stared at Eachan Gehdrin whose face was burned deeply on one side. He shuddered as Eachan looked over at him. "Pretty, huh?” Eachan asked. “Hurts like a mother, too." "The bitches burned us,” Killian Kiel said as he lay on the floor, the lower portion of his body blackened to a crisp. "We'll heal,” Taegin Kullen said. He was sitting with his back to the wall, the stump of one leg sending tremors of agony through his lower body. "Where is Cree?” Dorrie shrieked. She was trying to peel herself off the wall. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her eyes were wild. “Cree!" "Someone shut that bitch up,” Taegin growled, “before I pull her fucking guts out."

"I can't move,” Kaelan Cree spoke up. "Are you hurt?” Rylan Cree asked. "No. You?" "No but Braiden looks like a fucking lobster,” Rylan reported. "I feel like a fucking lobster,” Braiden told his twin. "I don't think we were supposed to get hurt,” Corydon Cree said. He was nursing a severely burned shoulder. "Hell yes we were!” Taegin grumbled. “They had to make it look like we were toast." "Cree!” Dorrie sobbed wildly. "Wench, shut the fuck up!” Taegin yelled at her. “I'm going to pulverize your ass if you don't!" With a suddenness that stunned them, the ship cut its power almost 75% and the relaxation of the gravitational pull released them from their enforced immobility. As soon as she could push away from the wall, Dorrie sprang at Taegin, her hands going for the Reaper's eyes. "Bastard!” Dorrie yowled, trying her best to rake her nails down Kullen's face. “He's dead because of you!" Someone hooked an arm around Dorrie's waist and pulled her off Kullen, swinging her and her flailing arms and legs away from the Reaper, pivoting her on a hard, masculine hip. "Damn it, Dorrie, that's enough!” her captor snarled. Dorrie cursed, her lips peeled back from her teeth and she would have attacked the man holding her but his identity hit her like a ton of brick and her legs went out from under her. Her eyes went wide. “Raine?" "Aye, wench, and damn. What the hell have they been feeding you? You weight a fucking ton!" "Raine?” Dorrie questioned again, her eyes once more filling with tears and she flung her arms around McGregor's neck. “He's gone, Raine. Cree is gone!" Raine met Taegin Kullen's infuriated eyes. “She has feelings for your Prime,” he said. Kullen snorted. “Are we going back for him?” was all he asked. "No need,” Raine said. "Raine, no!” Dorrie cried out, trying to push away from the man who had been her mate on Terra. “We can't leave..." "He's on board, Dorrie,” Raine said, shushing her. “He's unconscious, but he's all right." Dorrie searched McGregor's eyes, her entire body quivering. “You swear?"

"He's on board,” Raine said softly. “Do you really think Tylan or Lares or I would have left him behind?" "They are here?” she asked. "Along with Paegan and Alexi and Tealson, André Arbra and Hern Belvoir who we brought along for good measure,” he told her. "I have to see him,” she said, wriggling out of his arms. "The Healer is in with him right now,” Raine said. “She's a Terran and...” He got no further for Dorrie ran out of the transporter room. Raine let out a long sigh. “That woman is something else." "How badly is he hurt?” Taegin asked. The other Reapers had gathered around. Several were burned badly and would need the care of the Healer to aid their parasites in healing them. "He wasn't burned,” Raine said. “There's a problem with the M-Rs. The Healer believes over time one of his implants began misfiring and has over stimulated the levels of dopamine and serotonin in his brain. The abnormal amounts of those chemicals caused the blood vessels to..." "React abnormally,” Taegin snapped. “You're not talking to imbeciles here. We get migraines like you humanoids get zits." "So the Prime has developed really bad headaches,” Toryn declared, giving Taegin a quelling look. "Very bad,” Raine replied. “Severe enough to be incapacitating. He was in so much pain when we brought him on board, the Healer knocked him right out. He believes you men died on Rysalia Prime and until she allows him to wake, he won't know any different." "What needs to be done for him, then?” Rylan Cree asked. "The M-Rs have to be taken out as soon as we reach Terra." "That could be dangerous,” Comyn Coure said. "Aye, but we have the biomaps of his brain and yours, too, so unless you don't mind eventually going through what Kam's going through—and apparently has been for some time now—you should think about having your M-Rs removed, too,” Raine told them. "Can we see him?” Kaelan Cree asked. "How ‘bout waiting a bit? We're on our way to Corinth in Serenia,” Raine said. “So far the only ships behind us are those protecting our back but we need to get to Corinth, change vessels and head for the wormhole. The Multitude might have bought your deaths on Rysalia Prime but we don't want to take a chance they didn't." "I'd like to see my bloodsire,” Kaelan said.

"And you will,” someone else said and the Reapers turned to see a tall, dark haired man standing in the doorway. “For now, you can greet the eldest of the Prime. I am Khiershon." **** Caitlin emptied another vac-syringe of Triso into the bulging neck muscle of her patient and stepped back, glancing at the woman who sat at Kamerone Cree's bedside, his hand clutched possessively in hers. "His blood is pounding through his veins even with all that Triso flooding through him,” Dorrie said. She reached up her free hand to smooth the hair back from the Reaper's sweaty forehead. "He's borderline stroke level,” Caitlin said. She handed the vac-syringe to Lisa Mahon, one of her med techs. “I know the parasite is struggling to get his blood pressure under control, but I'm thinking about giving him a dose of paralysis to ease him down farther into unconsciousness." "He's had it before,” Dorrie said. “Also hephastiox but he gets sick from that." "Paralysis it is then,” Caitlin said. She instructed Lisa to draw up the med then sat down in another chair across from Dorrie. Major Akkadia Kahmal appeared in the sick bay, her face showing the strain of having strangers on board her ship. “How is he?" "I'm going to let him sleep until we get back to Corinth,” Caitlin replied. She grinned at the Amazeen. “Did you come in here to play with us?" Kahmal snorted. “Stop with that lesbian stuff or I'll be tempted to transport you back over to the DarkWind ,” she said, but her eyes were twinkling with humor. “I came in to tell you I am having the Reapers brought to sick bay. Several were burned badly enough that you need to see to them." "We'll get ready,” Caitlin said. “Should I send for more of my techs?" "I don't believe that's necessary,” Kahmal said. “Dorrie can help you. Having thirteen extra people running around theAlluvia is a bit much and I've been fighting for the last hour with Zainabu wanting to transport over to theDarkWind to see her J'Bai." "Not a good idea,” Dorrie said. "Is that the Necromanian princess who's J'Bai married a Terran?” Caitlin asked. “They're going to have to confront one another sooner or later.” She took the vac-syringe from Lisa and stood up to administer it to her patient. "Better it be on land that on my ship,” Kahmal said. "Better still to let Cree handle it when he wakes up,” Dorrie said. “Only he will be able to calm Zainabu." "You think?” Kahmal asked, frowning. "Aye, I believe so."

Cree groaned as the drug was injected into his neck and his hand tightened around Dorrie's. "It's okay, baby,” Dorrie said. “She's only trying to help." The Reaper's hand relaxed and went limp in Dorrie's. "So much pain,” Dorrie said, stroking his forehead. “It seems that's all he's ever known." "The other Reapers are in the next room, Cait,” Lisa said. “A couple are pretty bad off." "Well, let's go take a look,” Caitlin said. Khiershon passed his wife in the hallway, gave her a quick kiss, then came into Cree's room to visit his bloodsire. He had commented earlier to his lady how much they resembled one another. He made the same remark to Dorrie. "I never thought to meet him,” Khiershon said. "Nor he you,” Dorrie said. "He is a legend, you know,” the younger Reaper commented. "In more ways than you will ever know,” she said. "If I can be but half the man he is...” Khiershon said then shook his head. “They are all chomping at the bit to see him." "I don't think he needs to see them until they are fully healed,” Dorrie cautioned. “Hopefully he isn't dreaming, but if he is, he's seeing them being flash-fried on that platform and that may be why his blood pressure is so damned high." "Would it help if I talked to him, do you think?” Khiershon asked. “I mean...” He flung out a hand. “I have some knowledge of what he has been through." "I'm sure you do,” Dorrie said and released Kamerone's hand. She got up. “Come over here and sit down. I'll see if I can't lend Caitlin a hand with the other men." After Dorrie had exited his bloodsire's room, Khiershon perched uneasily on the edge of the chair she'd vacated and stared at the strong hand that lay beside his bloodsire's leg. A part of him ached to touch the man whose sperm had given him life and another part feared doing so. Though he'd not experienced any resentment or jealousy toward the bloodkin he'd met in the transporter room, he knew he should be feeling antagonistic, aggressive, and hostile toward a fellow Reaper. But he felt none of that. Only a dull ache in the region of his heart. "I am Khiershon,” he said softly. “Your blood.... “He swallowed. “Your son." Reluctantly, hesitantly he reached for his father's hand and as soon as his flesh touched that of the unconscious man, a great wealth of emotion surged up to choke Khiershon Cree. He felt tears prickling at his eyes. This man was responsible for one-half of the equation of Khiershon's life and for the entire range of his

Reaper makeup. He was a legend, a hero, a man so far above all others that his bloodkin had placed him upon a pedestal. He was—to Khiershon and the other Reapers—a god and he was his sire. "I'm here ... Father,” he said. “I'm here and four other of your sons are here as well as six of your nephews. We're all alive and we're all well—or will be soon—and we're all very worried about you." Gently he stroked his father's hand, unaware of the moisture gathering in his gaze. "My wife is here, too,” he said. “Your daughter-in-law Caitlin is the Healer taking care of you.” He slid the palm of his left hand under Kamerone's and placed his right hand over his father's. “All your friends are safe and sound and we are on our way to Serenia." Khiershon was not expecting his father to open his eyes and when Kamerone did, the younger Reaper's breath caught in his throat. He found himself staring into amber eyes dulled with pain and glazed with drugs and worried beyond belief. "Dorrie?” Cree grated, his voice rife with agony. "She's safe,” Khiershon assured him. “As is your daughter, Danielle. We are all safe and not an enemy ship in sight." "They were hurt.” The words were said with such sadness, such guilt, that it sent a wedge of emotion through Khiershon's heart. Khiershon nodded. “Aye, but I don't think it was intentional on the part of the woman named Kym,” he said. “It was the combination of the staffs igniting and the pulse from the transporter beams occurring at the same moment. Your Reapers survived. They'll be all right. Their parasites will heal those who were hurt." "The revenants?" "The room was destroyed completely before theAlluvia left the docking station. The parasites are gone. There will be no more Reapers made on Rysalia Prime." Cree heaved a long sigh of relief then slowly closed his eyes. His hand tensed beneath his son's for a moment before he gave in to the strong drug pulling him down into oblivion. Khiershon reached up to stroke his father's forehead. “Sleep well,” he said. “We are here watching over you."

Chapter Twenty-Two By the time thePantera fell in behind theDarkWind , theAlluvia , Raphaella's StarRaider, and Prince Kamau Taborn's ship, theJuggernaut , the last of the injured Reapers was healing well enough to be up and about and hovering outside their bloodkin's room. "Don't wake him up,” Khiershon warned them, “or you'll have me to deal with." "Who fried and made you boss, Cree?” Taegin challenged but it was more out of habit than any real ill feeling toward the eldest bloodson. He stuck his hands into the pockets of the black leather uniform pants

he and his fellow Reapers had not been allowed to wear for many months and hunched his shoulders. It felt good to be clothed properly. They each wanted to see the infamous Prime Reaper for himself, to lay a respectful hand to his, and to silently thank him for all he had endured for their sake. Not a one of them—not even Taegin Kullen—questioned why he harbored no enmity toward the Prime and they came away feeling strange emotions they could not understand. "So you are all set, eh, Admiral?" "They've got enough Triso over on theAlluvia to last several lifetimes,” Tylan Kahn said as he spoke to Captain Vargas. "Brilliant minds think alike,” the Diabolusian woman quipped. "You going after your cargo of it was greatly appreciated, Captain, and will keep them stocked for some time on Terra." "Elena,” she said to him and on the vid-com screen her smile was sultry. “I only wanted to help, Tylan." "I'm sorry you had to go to all that trouble, though,” Tylan said. He smiled sexily at her. "It was no trouble at all,” she replied, “but if you would like to thank me in person, you may do so when we reach Corinth." Lares sighed heavily. “Tell that woman to take a cold shower, Kahn. I've problems of my own I need help with." Captain Vargas shot the Necroman another haughty look. “You are becoming a pest, dark man!” she snapped and then was gone in a flash. Tylan settled back in the command chair while Iyan McGregor was taking a much needed break. “So what are you going to do about your problem, Lares?” he inquired. "She will challenge me,” Lares said. “I have broken the code of honor and that is her right." "Why don't you just explain you never expected to see her again and...?" "Oh, fuck that!” Lares snapped. “She won't care of such things! I was expected to remain true to her no matter what. As long as thezawadi was around my neck, I.... “He stopped, blinked, and then turned wide eyes to Tylan. “Thezawadi !" "What the hell is azawadi ?” Tylan asked. "The reed and bead necklace,” Lares said. “The necklace she gave me as a betrothal gift. I, too, gave her such as a token of our troth." "So?" "The reed, ass wipe!” Lares sneered at Tylan, enjoying the look of anger on the Rysalian's handsome face at the insult. “I broke the necklace to pull a reed from it to place in Cree's airway when he was

suffocating! Do you not remember?" "Vaguely and who the hell are you calling an ass wipe?” Tylan challenged with narrowed eyes. "I broke thezawadi and thus the troth was broken! Do you not see?” Lares began pacing. “It was for a better good than a man taking a wife to mate. It was to save the life of a valued warrior who had saved my life, as well. It is amutea konuil. It is a debt of honor far more powerful than a mere Joining!" "Aye, well, you'd better retract that part about the ass wipe,” Tylan said. Lares slapped Tylan on the back, nearly knocking the former Rysalian Fleet commander from the command chair. “I have the way of it now!” He looked at Dakim Hesar. “Open a channel to the Amazeen ship and let me speak with the Princess Zainabu." Tylan folded his arms over his chest and watched as the black man puffed himself up, slapped his hands to his hips, threw his head back, and spread his legs in an authoritative stance. But as soon as the imposing face of the Necromanian princess flashed on the vid-com screen, he saw Lares Taborn flinch. "Greetings, J'Bai!” the princess spoke first. “You are well?" "I am, Zainabu and...” Lares began but her words cut him off. "That is good to know,” she said and reached up to tug at thezawadi that hung around her neck. She snatched it up and held it out in a tightly closed fist. “I have broken the troth,” she proclaimed. Lares’ mouth dropped open. “What do you do, wench?" "I have broken our betrothal,” she said. “There is another to whom I have given my heart." Tylan heard Lares growl. “Who is this man who dares defy the laws of the J'Baina?” Taborn demanded. "Kamau of the house of Taborn,” Zainabu stated. “He who follows at my back to assure my safety!" "Your safety?” Lares hissed. “Your ego is out of line. He follows to keep watch over the Prime, wench!" Zainabu lifted her chin. “That is true. I can not argue with it, but he goes where I go. We have deep affection for one another. I would have journeyed to Terra to break the troth but that is no longer necessary. The deed is done, Lares. Live with it!" That said the haughty face of the princess disappeared from the screen. "Kamau?” Lares shouted. “Kamau? That pimply-faced turd who was afraid of his own first pubic hair?” He glared around the bridge at the men and women staring at him. “She throws me aside for a spike like Kamau?" "You do have a wife at home waiting for you, Lares,” Paegan Thorne reminded the dark man. "That is beside the point!” Lares thundered. He lifted a balled fist and struck his massive chest a brutal blow. “No man takes my J'Bai from me and lives to tell the tale!" "What are you going to do?” Tylan sneered. “Kill him and then be forced to take that virago home to live

with you and Beryla?" Lares’ eyebrows shot up and he staggered beneath such a thought. “By the gods, no!" "Then leave matters as they are and shut the fuck up. You're giving me a headache,” Tylan grumbled. Sputtering, Lares stomped around the bridge for a few moments then threw himself into one of the Nav Com seats. “This is not the way it was meant to be,” he fumed. “I was going to tell her I had broken the zawadi and that was all there would be to it." "'The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen as is the razor's edge invisible',” Troi said on a long sigh. "'She throws aside the scepter-leaves the helm',” Raven injected "Aye,” Lares said, “and I'll wager my long scepter is bigger and thicker than his puny round helm!” He shot up from the chair and stalked off, head high. "Men,” Helen Bryan, co-Com Off of theDarkWind told Marti Holloway, the co-engineer, with a shake of her head. “You can't live with them and you can't live without them." "Aye,” Marti said, “and you can't leave them by the curb when you're finished with them." **** On board the Necromanian dreadnaught, Prince Kamau Taborn sat back in his command chair and swiveled away from the vid-con screen. He was not so sure he truly wanted Zainabu for his mate, but he had begun courting her when they'd thought her J'Bai had died. He frowned. “She is bossy,” he said aloud to no one in particular though his second in command glanced over at him. “She is opinionated, and she is arrogance personified." "And she is a warrioress of the first degree,” the 2-I-C reminded his captain. "True and I suppose a man could do worse than Zainabu Waberi,” Kamau agreed. His second in command sidled over to him and leaned closer. “And then there is the factor of Demissie Waberi. To have the arms dealer indebted to you for taking his sister off his hands...." Kamau waved a dismissive hand. “Demissie has no great affection for Zainabu. What does he care with whom the woman Joins?" "As eldest brother, he would be required to make the dowry since their father is deceased,” the 2-I-C said slyly. “To know it would be unnecessary since she will Join with a member of the royal household...." Kamau nodded. “I see your point but still, the woman is bossy." "But worthy of a warrior such as yourself." "Aye, she could hold her own if I do not cripple her first,” the Necromanian prince commented. He tapped a long dark finger on the chair arm. After a long inner discussion with himself, he looked up at his second in command. “Ask the princess if she would make herself available for an intimate dialogue

between us when we arrive on Corinth." **** Corydon Cree had finally found the time and the opportunity to approach the Amazeen Major. His shoulder had healed quickly but it was still a bit stiff as he walked up beside Kahmal and he was holding that arm with his other hand. Stiffening as the Reaper bent toward her and gave her neck a long sniff, Kahmal turned to glare at him, her eyes flashing. “What is it you do?” she demanded. "You smell of mangoes,” Corydon said. “I like mangoes.” His amber eyes glittered. "Get away from me, Reaper,” Kahmal snapped, stepping back. His gaze wandered over her red hair. “And I've always been partial to red heads." Kahmal lifted her chin. “Stay away from me,” she said and spun around. "You're going to be mine, you know,” Corydon said in a slow, sultry drawl. The Amazeen pivoted around—eyes wide and fists doubled at her side. Corydon nodded. “I marked you as mine the moment I saw you in the Titaness, wench. There will be no denying me." Her hackles raised, Kahmal walked back over to him and stood toe to toe with the Reaper. He was only marginally taller than her, but his muscular body seemed to overpower hers. Against him, she felt almost petite. "Let us get two things straight, Reaper,” she said, her upper lip arched with irritation. “I am an Amazeen and..." "I am a Reaper,” he said as though that trumped her claim. Eyes narrowed now with annoyance, Kahmal could feel the heat of his body pulsing toward hers, and something moved in the pit of her belly. "What's number two, sweetness?” he purred, moving so that his lips nearly touched hers. I am...” Kahmal said then suddenly found herself lost in the golden depths of his brilliant gaze. “I am..." "You are what?” he repeated and allowed the very softest of touches of his mouth to hers. Kahmal shuddered from head to toe, her body trembling like that of a wet feline shaking off water. "I am...” Kahmal was unaware her voice had gone down several octaves and had become husky. She was staring into his handsome face that looked so much like Kamerone Cree's. "Aye?” he taunted—his voice no more than a growl—and once more touched his lips to hers. "I am..."

"You are mine,” Corydon Cree finally stated and released the hold on his injured arm to snake his other arm around her waist and draw her up against him hard. His mouth slanted over hers and his tongue slipped unerringly past her surprised lips to duel with hers. Everyone on the bridge had stilled and a pin could have been heard dropping from three decks away. "She's a goner,” Sern whispered and became aware of Taegin Kullen giving her a look she found unsettling. He was staring intently at her, his dark eyes narrowed slightly. She, too, shuddered and turned away, unhappy the Reaper was watching her. It was then she noticed the others and blinked. Augenia Deon was watching Eachan Gehdrin. Renata Aegean had her eye on Rylan Cree while Melankhoia Chanz was smiling tartly at Rylan's twin, Braiden. Cedilla Tyrian couldn't seem to drag her gaze from Toryn Belial and Danielle—the first female Reaper Sern had ever seen—appeared to be drowning beneath the heated stare of Killian Kiel. The other three Reapers—Comyn Coure, Kaelin Cree, and Ghrian Tohre looked very unhappy that no woman was glancing their way. Once more Sern turned her gaze to the man who had hurt her so badly in the Titaness. His psychic power had nearly driven her to her knees, and he had seemed unrepentant about having used it so brutally against her. "I thought you were the enemy,"he sent to her but no smile, no look of regret shifted over his dark face. His gaze was locked on her. "All women are your enemies,"she flung his words back at him. Taegin shrugged."Perhaps not all." Sern felt the old werebeast rubbing against her leg to get her attention and looked away from the Reaper. She put her hand on Ceatie's broad head and patted him. “He's trouble, Ceatie,” she said softly to the beast. "He's trying to apologize,"came the words from across the bridge. Sern snapped her head back toward Kullen."And not doing a very good job of it!" Kullen's face softened just a little, and his eyes took on a strange, bleak look."He's had no practice. Mayhap you can cut him a little slack, wench." Sern sniffed and looked down at Ceatie. “What do you think, my friend?” she asked the werebeast. “Should I cut him some slack or ignore the arrogant prick?" Ceatie yawned widely then lay down, turning over on his back with his four huge paws in the air. He waved one giant paw at his mistress and then began purring loudly. "Traitor,” she named him but from the corner of her eye, she found herself watching every move Taegin Kullen made. **** "Well, this sucks,” Ghrian Tohre said as he sat leaning against the image deck wall of theAlluvia . He, Comyn Coure and young Kaelan Cree had sauntered off and had found the one place where they did not

feel like sore thumbs. In their black silk uniform shirts and black leather pants, they had fashioned a quiet room with low lighting and very cool winds to waft over them and were content enough. "I hear there are women on theDarkWind ,” Comyn commented. “Mayhap one or two will find us as desirable as the Amazeens seem to have found our bloodkin." Kaelan snorted. He was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, his legs crossed at the ankle, staring down at the black polished boots that encased his feet. “I want a mate of my own. It's not fair they get to play and we don't." "Did you hear the way the great Admiral Tylan Kahn was fawning over that Diabolusian captain when he came on board theAlluvia to check on the Prime?” Ghrian inquired. “It made my balls ache." "It made my mouth water,” Kaelin sighed. "Mayhap they'll let us transport over to theDarkWind and we can go shopping,” Comyn suggested. Both Ghrian and Kaelan turned toward the man sitting between them and gave him an incredulous look. "Shopping?” Ghrian inquired. “You think of this as shopping, Tohre?" Comyn cocked one muscular shoulder. “Isn't that the way it was when the Prime led the Reaper force?” he asked. “You went over to procurement, slapped your credits down, and picked a woman to take back to your quarters.” He sighed. “It was as simple as that." "What of winning the wench's hand?” Kaelan asked. “Having her want to be with you." "Wasn't necessary,” Comyn replied. “You bought her and she was yours." "Huh,” Kaelan commented. “Seems straightforward enough." "We'll soon be to Corinth,” Ghrian reminded them. “We can take a look at what's for offer on the DarkWind and if there's nothing there, we can graze around amongst the Serenian females. We're bound to find something interesting." "Aye,” Comyn agreed. “That's what we'll do." The three sat there for awhile longer then Ghrian drew in a long breath then exhaled slowly. “Aye,” he said. “This really sucks."

Chapter Twenty-Three Troi and Raven rolled by hand and hand and Iyan shook his head. “I never thought to see the day,” he said with a faint look of discomfort. “That just bothers me, you know?" "Makes you think, though, doesn't it?” Nyndham Dax inquired. He glanced over at Marti Holloway—his co-engineer—and winked. Iyan swiveled his head toward Marti then cocked a brow at Dax. “Something I should know about there, Dax?” he asked.

"Like what?" "Like you and Marti?” Iyan encouraged. Dax grinned. “We're in limited discussion but Helen Bryan and Dakin Hesar are engaged,” he replied. Iyan blinked. “What?" "So are Sinjin Wynth and Cathy Atherton." The second in command of the DarkWind whistled. “When did all that happen?” he asked. "It's been happening,” Dax replied. “You can't put guys and gals together and not have it happen." Iyan found himself looking at Barb Fuller. The black woman was giving him a sultry look that sent a shiver down his spine. Neither could enjoy the same kind of relationships the others on board could, but there was a lot to be said about simple companionship. He smiled gently at Barb and she smiled back. “Aye, I think I know what you mean." "So, Troilus,” Dakin Hesar said to the ‘bots as they moved past his communications desk, “you and Raven seem to have hit it off." Troi swayed its upper body back and forth. “'I have great comfort from this fellow',” the cybot declared. "'In that chamber was I born',” Raven said with a sigh, nudging its plastiform head toward the places where it and Troi recharged. "Everybody seems to have someone except me and Pat,” Lisa Mahon quipped. She eyed Hern Belvoir who shook his head. "Sorry, pretty one. André and I have women back on Terra,” he told her. “Mine is a friend of the Prime." "That's okay, guys,” Lisa sighed. “Always a bridesmaid and never a bride,” she said. "Tell me about it,” Pat complained. Iyan reminded his crew they were about to enter the gravitational pull of his home planet of Serenia. The entrance to the underground city of Corinth was fifteen minutes away. "The StarRaider will go in first and then we'll follow. After us will be theAlluvia , thePantera and then the Necromanian ship will dock last. I want those going with us to Terra on the StarRaider as quickly as possible. The crew from the Orion is standing by—at least those preferring to leave—so let's make this changeover as smooth as possible." Watching Raphaella taking the enormous StarRaider through its paces made Iyan nervous but Sinjin kept reminding McGregor that it was most likely his sister who was in charge of seeing the big bird into its docking harness safely and not the flighty Amazeen. "There are some really good women flyers on theAilith ,” Sinjin said.

"The what?” Iyan demanded. "That's what I heard her telling the Serenian Command. Apparently that's the name she christened the ‘Raider,” Sinjin answered. "Well she can just unchristen it,” Iyan snapped. “What the hell kind of name isAilith ?" "It means ‘seasoned warrior’ in Chalean,” Dakin Hesar replied with a stony look. “That just so happened to be my grandmother's name and she was a member of the famed Sisterhoods of Drogheda. It is a highly honored and honorable name." Iyan's face turned a bit red. “Aye, well, mayhap we'll leave the name, then,” he said. "It is best not to re-name a ship,” Marti said. “Everybody knows it's unlucky." "And we don't need any more bad luck,” Nyndham put in. Expertly maneuvering the DarkWind into its slip and docking harness, Sinjin gave Cathy Atherton a thumbs up. Together, they had settled the ship so sweetly there hadn't even been a bump as the hull came to rest on the titanium mesh harness. "All right,” Iyan said, getting up from the command chair. “Let's move it, people!" TheAlluvia was coming through the iris and down the wide, long underground tunnel that led to the docking station when Iyan and his crewmen and women exited theDarkWind . Already, Serenians, Ionarians, and a few Chrystallusian techs were swarming into the ship's interior to help remove what would be needed for the long trek to Terra. "I am anxious to see my friend,” Lares said as he set off down the corrugated ramp way toward which theAlluvia was slowly maneuvering. He had been uncharacteristically silent during the last hour of the voyage to Serenia. Since he had not accompanied Tylan over to the Alluvia to be with Kamerone Cree, he was nervous, worried about the only true friend he had ever known. But his footsteps got slower and slower as the Amazeen ship settled into its berth. He was not as anxious to see Zainabu in person. His ego was still bruised and he feared he would embarrass himself by saying something he shouldn't. He glanced at thePantera as it just entered the tunnel and winced for the Diabolusian vessel's engine was louder than any he had encountered in quite some time. It made his ears ache. Cirolia Sern was the first crewwoman from the Alluvia to show herself in the opened hatchway as the Amazeen ship's engines faded into a light hum then died down altogether. She shot Lares a wondering look—realized who he must be—and ducked back inside, her eyes wide. It was Zainabu who was the first to leave the ship. She came down the gangway, nodded curtly at Lares then turned and headed toward the farther slips—the ones into which the Pantera and Juggernaut, the Necromanian dreadnaught, would dock. "Bitch,” Lares said under his breath, watching the woman who had been his intended as she strode purposefully away from him as though he'd been nothing more than a dock worker. His teeth ground together. "You handled that well, Prince Lares,” a tall red haired woman said as she came off the Alluvia. “I am

sure Kamerone would have approved." Lares raised his chin. “I saw no need to act childish,” he said and narrowed his dark eyes. “You are Major Kahmal?" "I am,” she said and put out her hand, not expecting the Necromanian warrior to accept it, but he surprised her when he engulfed her smaller hand in his and shook it firmly. "You have my thanks for helping to preserve the life of Cree,” he said. "Even though it was because of me he was placed in harm's way?” she countered, letting go of the giant man's hand. "Shit happens,” Lares replied with a white-toothed grin. “How is he?" Kahmal's smile slipped a notch. “Not well. He is in a great deal of pain. The Healer, Khiershon Cree's woman, is doing all she can to make him comfortable but the Triso no longer has the power to block out his discomfort." Lares nodded. “To him, it is discomfort. To you and I it would be agony so severe it would drive us to madness." "I have no doubt of that. He was sleeping for awhile but now that isn't even allowed him,” Kahmal said. She stepped aside as two of her women left the vessel. “His bloodkin will accompany him off the ship. Go on in if you like. I need to see to the removal of the Triso and Sustenance from my cargo hold." Lares nodded and walked up the gangway and into the Amazeen ship. He felt uncomfortable—as most males did who had ever stepped foot inside one of the dreaded ships—but pushed the feeling aside. He saw Dorrie and a wide smile broke upon his dark face. "You are well, bantling?” he called out to her. Dorrie shook her head, seemingly having no time to speak to him. She motioned him to follow her as she headed into the opened doors of the elevator. The Necromanian sprinted after her and the big man barely got inside the cage before the door closed. “What is happening?” he asked. He looked down at the brace of vac-syringes in Dorrie's hand. "He was convulsing when I left. I transported over to the DarkWind to get some meds Caitlin hopes will help,” Dorrie replied, her face creased with worry. “These are anti seizure drugs." "Convulsing?” Lares repeated. "He woke about two hours ago and started seizing,” Dorrie said as the elevator door's shushed open. She pushed ahead of Lares at a fast clip down the corridor. “He is in bad shape, Taborn." Lares followed her, barely noticing the young men standing outside the door to the room into which she led him. His subconscious noted the men were Reapers by their uniforms and knew they were Cree's bloodkin. He came to an abrupt stop as he saw Tylan and Khiershon bent over, forcibly holding the Prime Reaper to the bed upon which he was thrashing.

Caitlin was checking the fluids that were dripping from an IV into Cree's arm and adjusting the flow. She didn't even look over as Dorrie came in and began injecting the contents of the first vac-syringe directly into the Reaper's straining neck. "God, hold him still!” Dorrie snapped. “I don't want to break the needle off in his vein!" "Adjust those lights so she can see, Renata,” Caitlin ordered and the Amazeen directed the bright light down on the side of Cree's neck. Tylan was grunting as he put his entire weight into trying to keep Cree pressed to the bed. “Get your ass over here, Taborn!” he ordered. “This is like trying to rope a gods-be-damned tornado!" Khiershon was at the foot of the bed leaning his weight on his father's ankles as Lares shot around him and grabbed one of Cree's arms out of Tylan's rigid grip. "He doesn't know what's happening,” Dorrie told Lares. “He just knows he's in pain." In his nightmarish state, Cree was struggling against ropes wound around his wrists and ankles. He was lying on top of a vast expanse of barren rock, tied hand and foot to a jagged plateau whose jutting points were gouging into his bare back. He stared up at the blazing overhead dual suns beating down on him with merciless brilliance and licked at his dry lips, wanting water so badly. He stared blindly up at the woman bending over him checking the reaction of his pupils. The light hurt his eyes, sent jagged bursts of pain through his head. He tried to turn away from it, but found he could not. "K'lon jui stah,"he whispered."Ogen." "What did he say?” Lares asked. "It's Chalean,” Khiershon said. His face was lined with sweat as he struggled to keep his bloodsire still. “He asked us to please let him die." "The hell with that!” Lares snarled and thrust his face almost nose to no se with his friend's. “Cree! You listen to me, you, insignificant Ry-Chalean dog! You will cease such prattle and be a man or I will whip your lily white ass! Do you hear me?" Cree's body was shuddering and his eyes were glazed, wounded, filled with an unimaginable pain that brought black-tinged tears to his eyes. His ears were oozing black blood and beads of dark sweat stood out on his straining face. "Be a man, you little twit!” Lares snarled at him. “Or lose your woman to Kahn.” He glanced over at Tylan. “'Tis your choice!" "Left ear drum rupture,” Dorrie said and tears flowed from her eyes. Everyone there flinched as Cree threw his head back and howled piteously, his neck convulsing as he arched his body off the bed. His limbs went rigid for a long moment and then he collapsed, his head falling to one side as the pain—or hopefully the med—had taken its toll. "You need to put him in an E.S.U. and keep him out all the way to Terra,” Dorrie told Caitlin. “His heart can't take much more of this."

"He won't die,” Khiershon said. “Heart attacks won't..." "Shut up!” Dorrie shouted. “I know he won't die, Reaper, but he will suffer, and I don't want to see that any more!" Tylan caught Dorrie as her knees gave way under her and swung her up in his arms. She was clinging to him like a lost child and was crying just as hysterically as one. Her body was shivering with her grief. "She's right,” Renata told Caitlin. “He was in an E.S.U. almost all the way from Terra to the Vex. It's the only way to keep him comfortable." "All right,” Caitlin said, arming away the sweat that had gathered on her own brow. “We'll put him completely out while we finish loading everything on the StarRaider." Khiershon let go of Cree's ankles and reached out to put a hand to his wife's shoulder. “You need some rest, too, milady,” he said. "When he's been seen to,” she said. "I've a bit of good news for you, Cait,” Iyan said as he came into the room. “Wellmeyer has decided to stay on Serenia." Cait nodded. “That will save me from strangling the bastard,” she said of the former captain of the Medivac ship theOrion. "Just wanted you to know we've about got everything loaded into the cargo hold and are bringing on the extra containment cells and E.S.U.s.” He glanced down at the man on the bed. “By the gods, Khier,” he said. “It's like looking at a slightly older version of you.” He shuddered. “That is a very unsettling thought." Khiershon turned his attention to the doorway where eleven sets of eyes were gathered out in the corridor—all of them striving to see what was happening in the room. “You men go on over to theAilith and get settled. We'll bring the Prime over on a gurney. I don't want to take a chance of transporting him in this condition." "We'll walk with you,” Taegin stated. The way he'd made his statement left no room for discussion. "With the exception of you three ladies and our female Reaper, all the other women are already on board the Ailith,” Iyan said. “And that includes the Diabolusian woman. I don't want to rush you but we really should get going. There's been a solitary ship to leave Rysalia Prime and it is headed this way. I'd just as soon be on the other side of the wormhole by the time it reaches Serenia." "All right,” Tylan said. “Find us a gurney and let's move sleeping beauty just in case that's his fan club coming to visit." With Kamerone Cree strapped securely to the gurney Khiershon, Tylan, Lares, and Iyan carried between them, Caitlin and Dorrie leading the way with Renata and Danielle behind the gurney and the other Reapers walking in twos bringing up the rear, the Prime Reaper was carried toward the first docking harness and the huge StarRaider that sat humming powerfully in its slip.

As they passed, workers on the dock stopped what they were doing and those who wore caps and hats quickly doffed them out of respect for the unconscious man being taken aboard theAilith . "Wouldn't this amuse the shit out of him?” Paegan Thorne quipped as he and Alexi Noll watched their former leader being carried up the gangway into theAilith . "What?” Noll asked. "This,” Paegan said, sweeping a hand around him to indicate those who were standing in quiet respect. “How many times do you reckon people scattered out of his way when they saw him coming? Man, they would shimmy down bolt holes rather that even come into contact with him and here they are all watching and showing deference to him." "Don't you think he deserves it?” Noll asked. "Hell, yes, he deserves it,” Paegan said. “It's just that if he could see this, he'd be so fucking embarrassed." "Reapers don't get embarrassed,” Tealson Hesar said from his place on the other side of the gangway. "Ours does,” Paegan disagreed. "Ours does a lot of things other Reapers don't,” Noll observed. He watched the younger Reapers disappearing into theAilith . “Let's just hope he'll be able to keep that new batch in check once we get to Terra."

Chapter Twenty-Four Raphaella was annoyed when people began swarming onto the ship she had staked her claim upon but as soon as she saw Khiershon carrying the litter holding the Prime Reaper her face softened. She rushed forward, ignoring Caitlin. "Are you well, Khiershon?” she asked. "You and I will talk later, wench,” Khiershon said, giving her a steady look. “For now, make sure everyone who will be accompanying us is on board. A ship has left Rysalia Prime and we need to leave them in the dust." Glancing down at the man on the gurney, Raphaella's attention snapped back to the handsome face and held. “He looks just like you!” she said and the wheels could be seen cycling in her brain. She put out a hand to touch the unconscious man. "No,” Khiershon snapped. “I look just like him and don't even think about laying your hands on him. He is well taken and the men with me with beat you to the ground if you so much as dare to cause my father trouble!" "You've got that right,” Tylan snapped as he moved past Raphaella and pushed her out of the way. Caitlin turned her head and looked back—catching the Amazeen's eye and smirking. “You just can't seem to catch your own Reaper, can you, Raphie?” she laughed.

"That's enough, Cait,” Khiershon chastised his lady. “Do what I told you, Raphaella." Stomping her foot with pique, Raphaella spun around and started after the gurney. It as at that moment someone stumbled against her for she had walked right into that person's path. Hissing like a cornered ghoret, she twisted around to berate the person who dared to put hands on her body to keep from falling. “Get your filthy hands...” she began then her furious eyes met the eyes of the one behind her and she stilled. "You walked intomy path, wench,” Ghrian Tohre complained. “Watch where you put those gods-be-damned big feet of yours.” He started past her but found his arm caught in a none-too gentle grip. He pointedly looked down at her hand delaying him then up into her wide eyes. “What's your problem?" Not only was the man glaring at her taller and more muscular than Khiershon Cree, he was far more handsome with jet black hair that was so wavy it looked as though the wind was constantly tousling it. His eyes were a deep golden color framed by long dark lashes that any woman would kill to possess and his mouth bore full lips bracketed by the only goatee she'd ever seen on a man. To the left side of his mouth was a mole that was begging to be kissed. "You aremine ,” she said through clenched teeth and then pulled him fiercely to her. She slid a hand up to imprison his head then brought his face toward hers, capturing his mouth with a kiss at which his fellow Reaper's gawked. After kissing him thoroughly, she pulled back and flicked the tip of her tongue over the mole that so captivated her. “There. Now, it's official." Everyone on the docking station ramp way was staring at the spectacle. The men carrying the gurney had looked back at her words and had stopped to see what she was about. No one made a sound as the Reaper and the Amazeen squared off. "That Reaper's a goner,” Iyan pronounced when Tohre jerked back from the kiss and ran the back of his hand over his mouth to wipe off her touch. "Wench, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Ghrian exploded, putting up a hand to scrub at his mole. "Claiming you,” Raphaella said and linked her arm through his. “Come, Reaper, and let me fuck what little brains you possess from your handsome head." Ghrian Tohre was so shocked by her words, so completely at a loss to act he could only look helplessly at his bloodkin as the tall woman drew him past them and into the belly of the StarRaider. He caught Kaelen Cree's eyes. “This sucks,” he told Kaelan. "I do that, too,” Raphaella assured him as they disappeared into the craft. The last anyone saw of Ghrian Tohre for the rest of the day was a huge grin. Kaelan slowly turned wide eyes to Comyn Coure and the grin that began tugging at his expressive mouth made Coure yowl with laughter. The two Reapers hurried into theAilith jostling one another like the teenage boys they were. ****

Akkadia Kahmal had a problem and she hated to express it to those who were making the final preparations for leaving Corinth. All supplies, extra E.S.U.s and eight extra Con Cells had been loaded onto theAilith and quarters had been assigned. Extra fuel, the Triso and Sustenance from both the Pantera and theAlluvia had been loaded into the cargo hold. Work assignments had been split among the crews of the ships that would now be just one crew. Goodbyes had been said to the new captain of thePantera and to theJuggernaut —the Necromanian ship—and all was in readiness. Now was not the time to bring up her problem yet it had to be done. She'd already hastily discussed it with her Amazeen crew and they'd all agreed she had no choice but to act. "Admiral,” she said, finding Tylan Kahn with Captain Elena Vargas. She ignored the way the Diabolusian warrioress glared at her interruption. “May I speak with you in private?" "What you have to say to myprevisto, you can to me!” Elena snarled. "Your intended?” Kahmal said. “Congratulations, Admiral. You work fast." Tylan blushed. “Well, we haven't really discussed...." "I have a request,” Kahmal said, sensing the Diabolusian woman about to interrupt again and time was of the essence. “One I know will put a burden on this mission but in good conscience I can do no other." Tylan's brows drew together. “That being what, Major?" Kahmal lifted her chin. “I can not leave the breeders on my farm at the mercy of my Sisters. I would like permission to take the Alluvia and go after them, bring them with us. Most are Terran men..." "What?” Caitlin said. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop as she passed but hearing that brought her up sharply. "There are nine of them that are Terran, two Serenians, and three Viragonians,” Kahmal said. “As soon as it is learned that I have betrayed Amazeen, they—along with all my property—will go on the auction block. I have been good to my breeders and...." "How long will it take you to go to Amazeen and bring them back?” Tylan asked. His face showed his acute worry. "Two hours there and two hours back,” Kahmal replied. When the Diabolusian woman would have protested, the Amazeen held up a hand. “But I can rendezvous with you at the Vex and that will shave off an hour." "She can't leave those men on Amazeen, Admiral,” Caitlin said. “Those are my people she's talking about.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are there other Terran men being held captive on Amazeen?" Kahmal shook her head. “Not that I know of,” she replied. “I was the only one willing to take them when they were put up for auction the first time around." "Are there young half-Terran boys who...?” Caitlin began. "No male zygotes are allowed to take root in Amazeen bellies, Healer,” she said. “On that score you have nothing to worry about."

The former head of the Rysalian Fleet Command flinched. He remembered all too well the Rysalians not allowing female zygotes to live. “Go, then,” Tylan said. “We'll meet you on the Vex but if that Rysalian Prime ship gets too close, we're going to hightail it through the wormhole and you'll have to meet us on Terra. Understood?" Kahmal nodded, relieved. “Understood!” She hurried away. "This could be catastrophic,” Elena told Tylan. "We just have to pray it won't be,” Tylan replied. **** Lares stood at the vid-com screen and watched the Necromanian ship carrying Zainabu out of his life for good. He hadn't given much thought to the woman who had been his J'Bai since Joining with Beryla—the love of his life—so he was surprised to feel a tug at his heart as Prince Kamau took Zainabu back to Necroman. "Did you get a chance to speak with your nephew?” Tylan asked. He swiveled his head around to watch as Kamerone Cree was being laid into one of the Extended Sleep Units—the E.S.U. "I did not wish to speak with that jackal,” Lares grumbled. “I might well have snapped his worthless neck like a dry twig.” He sniffed. “Nor did I deign to say farewell to the woman who betrayed me." Tylan sighed. “Taborn, if there was any betraying, you were the one who started it by Joining with Beryla. For once in your life own up to the decisions you made." Lares glared at Kahn. “Who is to say which of us betrayed the other first, you slimy eel? I was in prison for many years before my friend extracted McGregor and me. Zainabu could well have been cuckolding me even then!" Shaking his head at the man's obstinacy, Tylan folded his arms and just looked at Taborn. “If it soothes your conscience to believe that then so be it, Taborn. You are the one who is moping here at the window, though. I don't believe your Necromanian warrioress is." Drawing himself up, Lares’ eyes narrowed dangerously. “I am not moping, you son of a worm!" Tylan's own dark eyes narrowed. “We'll talk about your propensity to insult me when we're back on Terra,” he said. "Count on it,” Lares snapped and stalked off, his muscular shoulders hunched. "Admiral?" Tylan turned around and headed for Dorrie who was standing at Cree's E.S.U. “Aye, milady?" "We are about to close the lid on the E.S.U. He's half-awake still and has been mumbling. I've heard your name a few times. Do you want to speak to him before we put him out?" Tylan looked down at the face of the only man he truly considered to be his friend and was concerned with the lines that had formed on Kamerone Cree's face. The lines would smooth out—the parasite would see to it—but for now they gave mute evidence of the strain and the agony the Reaper was

experiencing. He put a hand on Cree's shoulder. "We'll be heading out in just a few minutes, Captain,” he said, giving back the rank he had taken from the Reaper long ago. “When next you wake, we'll be behind the Terran moon and you will be but a heartbeat away from your Bridget." Cree moaned as though he had heard the words, but he did not move. "Sleep tight, Reaper,” Tylan said. “We've got your back.” He looked up at Dorrie and nodded. He stepped back to allow her to close the lid on the E.S.U., sealing Cree in. Dorrie locked the lid and stood with the palm of her hand on the plexi lid as the vital signs on the readout beside the unit began to take Cree into deep hibernation by stilling his heart, ceasing the flow of blood, maintaining his life, but—more importantly—stopping the savage pain eating at him. "We're ready to roll out, Admiral,” Khiershon said. "We've got your back, Kam,” Tylan repeated then turned away from the E.S.U. “And we're on our way home." TheAilith had to wait until theAlluvia was out of the tunnel and banking its way to Amazeen to retrieve Kahmal's breeders before it could begin its journey. **** "Are any of you close to Transition?” Khiershon asked his bloodkin at a meeting the next morning as the Ailith sped toward Montyne Vex and its meeting with theAlluvia . "I am,” Killian Kiel answered. “I should go on into a con cell now, I guess." "Me, too,” Rylan admitted. “I'm about three days away as is Braiden." "I Transitioned to take care of that traitor who would have torched the Prime,” Danielle said, “so that will screw up my cycle. I wasn't close to my regular time, though." "We'll keep watch on you, little one,” Comyn Coure told her with a smile. "Aye, little sister,” Kaelan agreed. “We'll take care of you." "I am pleased none of you wish to be out for this journey, but I will caution you to rest as much as you can,” Khiershon said. “Admiral Kahn and I have spoken at length and we believe you should all be indoctrinated thoroughly on what to expect once we arrive on Terra so you'll fit right in. The Prime not having done so caused him untold grief so we hope to prevent that from happening with you. There is much data in the computer banks and we also have additional disklettes on each of you that I suggest you view." "Disklettes on us?” Kaelan repeated. "The disklettes pertain to how you were chosen, the names of your birth mothers, etc. You might find such information useful and you might not. Personally, I intend to study those tapes at length to learn all I can about what makes me, me."

"Do those tapes also include the biomaps of our M-R's?” Eachan Gehdrin inquired. "They do and there is also a detailed history of the Reaper program that I must insist you view. I had a chance to skim over it and there is information there that will shock you,” Khiershon said. “The Prophetess-Mother also provided a disklette expressly for the eyes of the Prime and the Prime, alone, and that concerns me. I hope when he is able to view it, he will apprise us of its contents." "Are you concerned about your M-R implants?” Toryn Belial asked. "I believe we all should be,” Khiershon replied. “The implants need to come out, gentlemen.” He looked at Danielle. “And lady." "We were told that would be dangerous,” Ghrian Tohre spoke up. "Aye, we were told a lot of things I'm beginning to discover were out and out lies given to keep us under a tight control,” Khiershon said. “View the tapes and then we will talk again." "Will we be able to stay together on Terra?” Corydon Cree asked. Khiershon shrugged. “That I can't tell you. I suppose it will be up to the Prime to make that decision." "I am unaccustomed to having anyone make my decisions for me,” Taegin Kullen said, “but for the Prime, I will make the exception." "Me and you, both, cousin,” Khiershon said with a smile. He gave Comyn then Kaelan arch looks. “I hear you men have already hooked up with Terran women." Comyn laughed. “Her name is Pat and she is a weapons specialist." "Lisa,” Kaelan stated. “She is a MedTech." "I'm still looking, but I find Lin Dixon rather amusing, but then again, Roy Matheny has the sweetest smile...” Danielle said and the other Reapers laughed. Khiershon drew in a deep breath. “The connections you make now may or may not hold once we get to Terra. All I ask is that you be sure before you mate because...." "We will mate for life,” Taegin interrupted. “Aye, we know." Khiershon turned his full gaze on Kullen. “View the tapes before you do anything and then if you decide that lovely Amazeen on theAlluvia is for you, then so be it." "It's a bit late for me,” Ghrian guffawed. “My Amazeen practically wore me to the nub yesterday." "View the disklette, Tohre,” Khiershon repeated. "How did you know your woman was your true mate, Cree?” Kaelan inquired. "You just know, young one,” Khiershon told his younger brother. “I will stress again: view the disklettes."

The Vid-Com chimed and Iyan's face appeared on the screen. “That Rysalia Prime ship is all of a sudden pouring on speed, Khier. I think we might better hail it." "How far away is it now?” Khiershon asked. "About two days behind us but at the rate its coming, it could catch us to us while we're on the Vex and I don't like the thought of that." "I told Kahmal if we had to we'd go on through the wormhole and she can join us,” Khiershon reminded Iyan. "Aye, but what if that Multitude ship has the intention of disabling the anomaly?” Iyan suggested. “If Kahmal isn't through it before then, she won't be joining us." Each of the Reapers—especially those who had formed alliances with the Amazeens on the Alluvia—stiffened. "Surely that isn't their intent,” Eachan Gehdrin said. "It very well could be,” Khiershon said. His face mirrored his unease. "All the more reason to contact the Multitude ship,” Iyan said. “Mayhap they will give us an idea of what they plan." "I'm on my way to the bridge,” Khiershon snapped.

Chapter Twenty-Five Although he lay perfectly still, Kamerone Cree was very much aware of what was going on around him. His body had shut down and with it the brutal pain but his psychic abilities—thanks to the strength and power of his parasite—were active. He could hear the voices from the corridor as crewman passed his quarters. He could sense their unease and knew it had to do with the Multitude ship shadowing them. Although he could receive thoughts, he found he could not send them no matter how hard he strived to do so and thus could not tell Khiershon the ship from Rysalia Prime carried the Prophetess-Mother LeJong Kym and her Auxiliary Prophetess, Shei-Ling. That ship posed no threat to them but it would, indeed, close the porthole into the Terran galaxy. He drifted for awhile—listening in to conversations that both amused and shocked him—and then let his psychic awareness wander to that blue-green planet toward which he was speeding. Pushing aside all worries, he settled his mind's eye upon the lovely green eyes of his lady and could almost feel the softness of her flesh beneath his fingers. "I am coming home to you, my Bridget,” he whispered in his mind. Then the memory had come of their first time after the birth of their son when he had taken her into his arms and held her, loved her as he had so ached to do. That memory washed over him in waves of longing and he allowed himself to experience it again. **** "What are you eating now?” Bridget sighed as she'd discovered him sitting in the middle of their

bed—naked as the day he'd been born, cross-legged, happily munching on a large bowl of lush, red fruit. "Try this!” he grinned, shoving the newest treat he'd discovered toward her lips. “This is so cool!" "Kamerone...” she said with exasperation. He thrust the chocolate-covered strawberry dipped in whipped cream into her mouth. His eyebrows lifted. “Well?" Bridget's eyes narrowed as she glared at him. She munched the fruit, one eyebrow cocked. “Did you melt my box of Godiva chocolates?" He waved away her question. “Isn't that good?" She stared at him with irritation. “You melted my gods-be-damned Godiva chocolates, Kamerone!" He swirled another red, ripe strawberry through the cup of melted chocolate in his hand then dredged it through the tub of Cool-Whip. “Here, try another one." "No!” she snapped and snatched the melted chocolate from his hand. She looked down at it with dismay. “You melted my Godiva chocolates!" There had been something in her tone that set off an alarm in his being. He frowned. “They taste just the same melted as they do unmelted, Bridget,” he defended then brightened. “And they are so good on the fruit and..." Tears gathered in Bridget's eyes. “You melted my chocolates!" He stood there as she flung herself facedown on the bed and began to bawl like a spoiled infant. For the longest time he simply stared at her—the tanned flesh of her long legs peeking out from the hem of her skirt—unable to understand what he'd done that had brought on such a reaction. "I'm offering to share them with you, Bridie,” he said like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Her head came up like that of a turtle from its shell and she pivoted it around so she could glare at him. “You melted my chocolate, you Ry-Chalean twit!” she flung at him. “Mychocolate and you sit there offering to share it?" That had him frowning in earnest until he realized it wasn't so much the fact he'd melted the chocolate as it had been he had pilfered chocolate without asking. He put aside the little bowl of chocolate and the strawberries and stretched out on his belly beside her. "Wanna beat me up?” he asked. When she didn't answer, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Wanna beat me to a squishy black pulp all oozy and stuff?" "Yes,” she mumbled into the coverlet. "I'll let you,” he said. He laid his forehead on her shoulder. “I won't even make a sound while you

pummel me." "I want you to howl, Reaper,” she snapped at him. “I want you to bellow like a castrated bull." "O ... kay,” he replied, drawing the word out. “I'll howl as though the hounds of the Abyss are after my ass.” He nudged her again. “Will that make up for me stealing your precious chocolate?" "No,” she grumbled. "I'll let you stake me on a fire ant bed,” he said. “How's that?" "Not enough,” she sniffed. "Then what if I let you stick pins under my fingernails?" She gave him a fierce look. “What if I withhold all junk food from you for two ... no, make that three ... weeks, Reaper? Then maybe I'll be inclined to forgive you." "Three weeks?” he had gasped, horrified at such a suggestion. “Bridie, that's not punishment. That's torture!" "Live with it, Reaper,” she'd growled. "Milady, please,” he said softly. “I can not live without my salsa and chips." "You'll have to." "Please,” he whispered, nuzzling her with his chin. “Pretty please with.... “He'd started to say chocolate on top but thought better of it. “Whipped cream on top." "No,” she stated. It had started as just a gentle touch of his hand to her waist that had turned into a raging inferno that spewed molten lava skyward as she flipped over and then threw her arms around his shoulders. Their lips had met, their limbs had intertwined, and then he was ripping at her clothing and her at his. He could not touch her bare skin quickly enough. She could not seem to get enough of his hands on her body. Sweet little pebbles greeted his tongue when he had removed her blouse and bra. He tongued those rigid little peaks until his lady was squirming beneath him, the sole of one foot smoothing up and down his bare calf. He licked her, lathed her, swirled his tongue over and around the areola and suckled her until she began to pant. His fingers found her moist folds and toyed with her—grazing, flicking, plucking, soothing. "Bad Reaper,” she chastised him and then clamped her legs around his hips, pulling him to her until she was impaled on the stiff heat of his erection. Pure, unadorned lust drove them until he was pumping brutally inside her. The months of abstinence had turned him into a living, breathing sex machine that was so well-oiled by the time he took her he glided in and out of her channel like a piston. His tongue was firmly in her mouth. Her breasts were flattened against his chest, their lower bodies slapping against one another. Bridie's arms were around his shoulders. Her legs were around his waist. He rode her hard and she took

from him, milked him until their release came as one long, piercing howl from him and one sweet, thrilling trill from her. Sated, he collapsed atop her and lay there dragging harsh breaths into his lungs. They lay spent, trying to get their unruly hearts and blood pressures under control. His fingers were entwined with hers, his lower body pressed between her thighs. "Two weeks,” she amended. "What?” he managed to ask on a hefty yawn. "Two weeks without junk food." "One." "One and a half." "One,” he disagreed. He knew he could survive a week without salsa and chips and Pepsi but it would be tough to do without the cotton candy, chocolate covered cherries, and Pop Tarts. "One and a half,” she stated firmly. “Take it or leave it." He sighed. It was a small price to pay to appease her though it would be sheer hell without his mustard-flavored pretzels. "One and a half,” he agreed with a wince. "Maybe next time you'll leave my gods-be-damned Godiva chocolates alone!" He grinned. Perhaps he wouldn't. **** As he lay in the E.S.U. and his psychic mind relived that day, he realized it had been much longer than a week and a half that he had gone without the precious junk food to which he had addicted himself on Terra. If he had calculated the time correctly, it had been over six years and closer to seven by Terran time that he had had his last taste of salsa. The thought made his mouth mentally water. Seven years, he thought, and another six before he would see his lady again. Their child—the infant he had left behind—would be a teenager before they were together again. That hurt him deeply but there was nothing he could do about the lost time. "She sent me after you,” Tylan had told him, unaware of whether or not the Reaper had heard or understood. “Your lady sent me after you." There had been no hint within the mind of Tylan Kahn that anything other than friendship still existed between the ex-Admiral and Bridget. There was no other man in her life save Jaelin—their son—and Cree knew now there never would be. "I'm coming home, Bridie,” he thought. “Wait for me, my lady. Please wait for me."

It was the fear of age and illness attacking her that worried him the most. Accidents, wars that might break out any moment to plunge Terra into a portion of the Abyss were things that could take her away from him once and for all before he could make the journey home. He had to believe the goddess would not be so cruel as to snatch her from him after all he'd endured. "Thank you for helping me,” he sent out into the cosmos, hoping Alluvial would hear. “Thank you for saving my bloodkin and helping us escape." "It wasn't I who helped you, Reaper,"the goddess was quick to say. “I swore I would not and I did not. The help came from another Who dared to interfere!" As he lay there contemplating that cruel remark, he could not help but wonder Who the other had been and why He or She had lent support. "Because you are one of Mine,” came the answer in a voice he had never heard before though the brogue was pure Chalean. "Who are You, milady?” he asked. “Let me know Your name so I may thank You every day of my life." "Morrigunia,” was the reply and then utter silence."Your queen, my Reaper." "Morrigunia,” he repeated. He felt Her palm softly, coolly on his brow then all memory gently fled and he slipped quietly into a much-needed rest.

Chapter Twenty-Six Akkadia Kahmal had not counted on the men she had gone home to Amazeen to retrieve to give her any trouble. The breeders had fought as though their lives depended on it and it wasn't until she and her six Amazeen crewwomen had subdued them that Kahmal fought out why. "We thought you were trying to take us away from our mistress!” the leader had thrown at her, his hands now tied securely behind his back. He was a Serenian with long blond hair and pale blue eyes that were filled with defiance. Bruised, battered, scraped, and scratched, Kahmal and her women were not happy as they stood over the fourteen men with Dóigras pointed threateningly. "Iam your mistress, fool!” Kahmal shouted at the leader. She was of a mind to plant the star-shaped end of her Dóigra to his bare shoulder to forcibly remind him. "We didn't know,” the leader said. He slumped in his bonds. “You have always been good to us. We had no desire to be mistreated by those thinking to steal us." Kahmal had thrown her hands into the air and stalked off, ordering Renata to see the men into the Alluvia's containment cell until she could deal with them in a better frame of mind. Running the back of her hand across the cut under her chin, she stared down at the blood smeared on his flesh and cursed. "That bastard actually punched me!” she told Augenia. "I can't say it was completely loyalty that made him do it,” ‘Genia said, “but at least he knows now it

wasn't such a wise thing to have done." "I should have left them to the whims of my Sisters,” Kahmal snapped. She looked to Cedilla. “I think I need stitches." Ceatie got up from his place beside Sern and padded over to the Major. He rubbed his stiff fur against her boot and mewed. "I am all right, Old One,” Kahmal said and patted the beast's head. “I'm just not in a good mood." "We'll be at the Vex in fifteen minutes,” Melankhoia Chanz reported. “You can turn those men over to Khiershon Cree and let him deal with them." "I ought to turn that Serenian inside out,” Kahmal hissed. “To dare striking an Amazeen.... “She shuddered. “He's either very brave or damned stupid!" "I'd opt for brave,” Cedilla said as she came over with a med kit. “You broke his arm, by the way." "Good!” Kahmal said. "Which is now shackled behind his back,” ‘Dilla reminded her. “And yet he said not a word." Kahmal grunted. “He'd best not,” she said then thought better of her answer. “I suppose you should set his gods-be-damned arm, then." "I'll see to it when I close this wound,” ‘Dilla told her. "While we were attempting to manhandle those brutes onto the ship, we had a vid-com message from theAilith ,” Augenia said. “They are attempting to contact the Multitude ship heading this way." Kahmal frowned. “Why?” She barely flinched when ‘Dilla took two quick stitches in her chin. "They are worried it will try to close the wormhole before we can reach it and go through,” Augenia said. “We were told to shake a tail feather, whatever that means." "It means to hurry,” Melankhoia stated. "Where is the Multitude ship now?” Kahmal asked, shaking her head at the offer of a bandage for her chin. "About forty clicks behind us and to our larboard,” Cirolia replied. "And it didn't answer theAilith's hail,” Augenia reported. "Well, that doesn't bode well for us,” Renata said. Her hands flew over the keyboard of her weapon's array. “Just in case." "Hail theAilith ,” Kahmal said. “Let them know we're about fifteen minutes out. Have they landed on the Vex yet?" "They are in the process now,” Augenia said. “The Vex is having one helluva dust storm at the moment

and that delayed them finding a landing place. They had to land to the far west of the main plateau, beyond the ring of bluffs." "In No Man's Land,” Kahmal declared. "At least no one will see our ship when we land there and if that storm is as bad as I'm hearing, the Alluvia will be covered with sand in no time,” Augenia said. "I think you'd best wait until we're on theAilith before you try setting the Serenian's arm,” Kahmal said. "Let's hope those stupid men don't give us any trouble in transferring them into the Ailith,” Cirolia said. "Might be best to have some Terran men meet with us and speak to them,” ‘Dilla suggested. “That should keep them in line." "I agree,” Kahmal said. **** By the time the Alluvia touched down thirty feet from theAilith , the dust storm on Montyne Vex was at full force, the winds whipping around the two ships at a gusty eighty miles per hour, howling like a banshee. The noise was deafening as the doors of both craft opened, staggering the crewmen and women who were struggling to reach the other ship. From his place at the vid-com console, Dakin Hesar was watching the Terran men being herded out of the Alluviaand over to theAilith . He could not hear what was being shouted—and doubted those speaking could hear, either—but through the swirling dust, he could make out that the men from the Alluvia were stunned to find other Terran men among those ushering them to the larger ship. "Is there anything left on the Alluvia we need to transport over?” Dakin asked Augenia. "No. All that was done on Serenia,” came the reply. "Then hustle, ladies,” Dakin said. “That Rysalian Prime ship is breathing down our necks!" With the fourteen breeders on board theAilith and the Amazeen prepared for takeoff, the StarRaider's engine revved loudly—kicking up even more red dust on the plateau of Montyne Vex—then the huge vessel began to lift into the air. The backwash of its mighty engines sent copious amounts of dirt over the Alluvia so that by the time the ‘Raider began to bank away from the Vex, the Amazeen ship was little more than a lump under the red dust. As the Ailith circled over the main plateau in order to gain speed to make its run toward the wormhole, the dust storm began to decrease in intensity. "Hey! Is that a man down there?” Marti Holloway asked her co-engineer Nyndham Dax. "Where?” Dax asked, squinting at their screen. "I thought I saw someone on the western side of the plateau,” Marti said leaning closer to her screen, but decided she hadn't see anything for the rim of the plateau was in view and uninhabited. "Dust swirl,” Dax told her.

"Must have been,” Marti agreed. **** Sajin Cree stood buffeted by the dry hot wind bearing down on him as he backed into the cave to keep the sand from suffocating him. The force of the gale-like winds tossed his thick black hair wildly and pushed against him like an invisible hand. It was all he could do not to stagger against its wrath. He thought he had heard the engines of landing ships but the loneliness was playing tricks on him again. There was nothing and no one there. He was alone. Squinting against the shifting sands swirling up to him from the plain below, he surveyed his domain with a sharp eye, probing the fluctuations in the ether around him, until he was sure he was still alone on his empty world. Not even the furry critters that climbed among the rocky crags or burrowed into the hot sand could be seen scurrying about. After one last sweep of his amber gaze across the vast expanse below, he turned and went back into the cave. The barren, windswept planetoid of Montyne Vex had been his home for nearly fifteen months. He had been hiding in the caves there for so long he could not remember how the space station on which he had been born looked. Sajin reached up to touch the laser-imprinted tattoo on his left pectoral. He rubbed absently at the puckered scar beneath his torn jumpsuit bodice. He was edgy, but he thought he knew why. He was nearing the time for Transition. Perhaps that was why all the animals had fled. Not that hiding posed much of a problem for him. With his inbred abilities and instincts, he had no trouble finding the creatures’ lairs. If truth were told, the thrill of the hunt was the only pleasure he had on Montyne Vex. Idly, he wondered what would happen when he had exhausted his supply of the Sustenance on this barren world. "You will die,” his parasite whispered to him. "But you won't,” Sajin snorted. "No, nothing can kill me save the fire." His attention shifted over the leaping flames and he shrugged. “And me, too, for that matter." Sajin went back into the cave and sat before the sputtering fire, staring into the flames. The smell of wood bothered him, but he didn't know why. It was certainly more pleasant than the smell of his flesh when the tattoo had been applied. Once more he rubbed at the scar—a habit of which he was unaware—and sighed deeply. Tomorrow, he'd have to venture down from the plateau and gather more wood for the fire. Such mundane work annoyed him, but he knew it was necessary for him to survive. The thought of dying in such a manner unsettled him. Had that not been how most of his bloodbrothers had ended their existence on Rysalia Prime? Even in his dreams—and Reapers were not allowed to dream his parasite reminded him—he could hear the screams as the flames spread. In that conflagration the Daughters of the Multitude had set the first group of Reaper Cadets on fire and nineteen brave men had died in agony as the females cheered.

Yet there were allies among the females. Those women helped free five Reaper Cadets before the cheering, bloodthirsty Multitude realized anything was amiss. So intent were the women, so mesmerized by the screeches of agony coming from the Cage of Fire, Sajin and four of his bloodbrothers had been able to escape. But as luck would have it, their departure did not escape notice and a lucky laser blast had set Aidan's tunic on fire. The hapless warrior had run into the crowd, away from the safety of his rescuers, despite Sajin's frantic call. Aidan had died, but not before taking with him two females of the Multitude he had embraced in his death throes. Aidan had been Sajin's own twin. He was grieving for his twin, though he did not know the feeling in his body was that of exacting sadness. The loss of his twin bloodbrother was emptiness not unlike the terrible loneliness Sajin had been forced to endure on Montyne Vex and would be forced to endure for as long as he drew breath. **** And on board the ship speeding toward the wormhole from Rysalia Prime, a secret, coded transmission went out from the Multitude's ship to another ship half a day's journey away: “Sajin Cree is in the western caves on Montyne Vex."

Chapter Twenty-Seven The Prophetess-Mother—adorned in the plush robes of her exalted office—came onto the bridge of the Revenant and took the command chair offered her by the captain, Imelda Doine. The ship was an LRC—a long-range cruiser—that had once belonged to the Prime Reaper, himself, and had been expressly chosen by LeJong Kym as her personal flagship. Retrofitted to exacting specifications in weaponry and speed, theRevenant was a formidable vessel though not one single thing had been changed in the captain's quarters. Now the quarters of the Prophetess-Mother, those belongings there still bore the scent and touch of the warrior who had owned them. "They are one hour from the anomaly, Your Eminence,” the captain reported. “Shall we follow them through?" "No,” Kym replied. “Stop beyond the danger zone away from the wormhole and when you are sure...” Her dark eyes had bored into the captain's. “When you arevery sure the StarRaider is safely out of range, send the transmission, and then fire the missiles to collapse the anomaly." "You are sure this is what you want?” the Auxiliary Prophetess inquired. She wanted to try one last time to have the Prophetess-Mother see reason. "Aye, Shei-Ling,” Kym said. “I am positive." "If that was Sajin Cree on the Vex..." "It was,” Kym said. She lifted her head. “And he will be mine." "If not the father then the son,” Shei-Ling said softly. "Aye,” Kym said. “That will be the way of it." Giving the order to slow the engines of theRevenant , Captain Doine crossed her arms over her chest and watched the vid-com screen as the fleeing StarRaider approached the anomaly. She cast a quick

look to the Auxiliary Prophetess but when no more discussion of the wisdom of closing the wormhole was made, turned her attention back to the other ship. "Ten minutes to breech of the wormhole,” the Revenant's Nav Off reported. "Prepare your weapons, Lawrence,” the captain ordered. "Aye, aye, ma'am,” the weapons specialist replied. She began gearing up the missiles that would be fired into the wormhole. Every eye was on the vid-com and when the electric blue sparks rippled like waves around the ship then settled, the StarRaider was no longer in sight. "May the Wind be always at your back, Kamerone Cree,” LeJong Kym said, her heart breaking and her eyes filling with tears. She looked to Captain Doine. “When you are sure he is safe, Captain, send the transmission then let's end this once and for all." Doine nodded. “Send transmission now then on my mark in ten, nine, eight...” the captain of the Revenant began. **** The percussion from the closing of the wormhole washed over theAilith and it dropped a few feet but soon righted itself, the ripple effect of the disturbance barely registering on the ship's computers. "We can never go home again,” Iyan told Khiershon. "Don't think of it in that way, my friend,” Khiershon said. “Think of it that we have left our troubles behind us." "I hope so,” Iyan remarked. “I truly hope so." As most of the passengers on board theAilith either slipped into the E.S.U.s for their one and a half month rotation at hyper sleep or made their way to their quarters to rest or to thank their gods for deliverance from the threat of the Multitude, Dorrie Burkhart and Raine McGregor were sitting quietly at a table in the lounge with a snifter of potent Chalean brandy from the duplicator. "I will try harder this time, Dorrie,” Raine said. “I really missed you and I was so afraid I'd never see you again.” He hung his head. “I know I'm not easy to live with but...." Dorrie reached out a hand to cover his. “I really never once doubted I'd go home,” she said. “I knew if Kam couldn't find a way to get us there, you and the others would.” She squeezed his hand then released it. "I know you love him,” Raine said and looked up at her. She was stunned to see tears in the Serenian's eyes. “But I love you, and I will do whatever it takes to show you that I do." Though there would be only one man Dorrie Burkhart would ever love in her lifetime, she knew that man was forever off limits to her. She smiled. “Then you'd best learn how to change a tire, McGregor,” she said, “because I've changed my last one for your royal ass." ****

Khiershon Cree, the ten Reapers who had been saved from execution on Rysalia Prime and their female counterpart had all decided to watch the disklettes pertaining to Reaper history and programming together as a team. The disklettes that contained their personal histories were to be saved until they could view them privately. When the last disklette was finished, all twelve of them sat like statues, unable to speak or move for the knowledge they had gleaned from the data presented had shocked them to their foundations. Though Khiershon had discovered some of the hidden information already, the full scope of it had rocked him and he—like his bloodkin—was astonished. "Does he know of this?” Taegin was the first to ask. Khiershon nodded. “He viewed the disklettes on Rysalia Prime." "And you say there is more he is to be told?” Taegin inquired and at Khiershon's silent nod, asked how much more shocking must that information be. "It pertains to him,” Khiershon said, “but I've a feeling in my gut it will effect all of us, as well." "This is disturbing,” Rylan said. “Very disturbing." "We can swim,” Eachan said. “I don't find that disturbing." "It's a scary thought but to be able to plunge into a stream and swim.... “Braiden's eyes gleamed with contentment. "I like that we can have as many mates as we like,” Comyn said. "No,we can't,” Khiershon said sternly. "I heard you have mated with two women,” Taegin remarked then held up a hand when Khiershon would have berated him. “Not that I am advocating such a thing." "It is true I have had intercourse with two women, but I have had only one true mate. The reason I was able to sleep with the other was because I never had the indoctrination given to me before puberty that told me I could not happen." "But we can mate with more than one woman,” Comyn said. "You do so at your own peril,” Khiershon said. “I can tell you having a woman who is not your mate hankering after you is a pain in the ass." "Mayhap I will,” Comyn replied, “and mayhap I won't." "Well, Coure, I can see a problem with doing such a thing, you idjut,” Killian said dryly. "Aye, so can I,” Ghrian said, “and if it's all the same to you, I am quite happy with that restriction of just one mate." "As am I,” Corydon remarked. “I've an Amazeen." "Aye, as well as most of us does,” Toryn commented.

"If the prohibition is strong in us from that indoctrination, I doubt we will be able to take a second mate,” Taegin told them. “As for me, I don't wish to test the strength of the prohibition." "Aye, it would depend on just how strong the sublim during the indoctrination was,” Ghrian agreed. "May I suggest while we are still trying to absorb all this, we retire to our quarters and view the disklettes on our individual lives,” Khiershon said. “Best to get the bad news out of the way before we start learning about how to live on Terra." "When will that begin?” Comyn asked. "My lady has suggested it be done in an E.S.U.,” Khiershon said. “We can readily absorb it quickly and easily like sublims." "Good notion,” Taegin agreed. “I'm all for ease of learning." "Then beginning tomorrow, we'll enter the E.S.U.s set aside for us and take our training on how to be good little Reapers on planet Terra,” Khiershon said with a grin. "Terra won't know what hit it,” Danielle commented with a wink. **** Raven stood looking down at the sleeping Reaper. The ‘bot's head was cocked to the side as he observed the man then it swiveled around to give Troi a perplexed look. “'A conscious slumber seems to take, and would not, for the world, awake'." "'But sleep that pondereth ... ‘" "'By a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to?'” Troi asked. The cybot shook its head. “'For the heart whose woes are legion ‘tis a peaceful, soothing region',” Raven declared. "'To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,'” Troi said softly. "'All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream',” Raven replied. Nodding together, Troi reached out and broke the seal on Kamerone Cree's E.S.U. Very gently, he put his hand on the Prime Reaper's shoulder and shook him. "'Methought I heard a voice cry “Sleep no more!’” The sleeping Reaper's golden eyes opened slowly and though it took them a moment to adjust, to focus, Cree knew who was hovering over him. "I've missed you, Troi,” he said hoarsely. Troi hung his head. “'I can no other answer make but thanks',” it whispered. "And you are Raven?” Cree asked. He put a hand to his temple were the pain had started in earnest

again. "'Nevermore',” Raven replied with a bow of his head. "You two getting along?” Cree queried. Troi grinned. “'My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature'." "Good,” Cree said. He tried to sit up and found he was too weak but both ‘bots hastened to slide their hands under him to lift him. “Where's Tylan?" "'Off with his head!'” Troi proclaimed. “'I dote on his very absence.’” "I know you don't like him but could you cut him some slack for me?" Troi sniffed. “'I am not in the giving vein today'." "Please? For me? Will you go find him?" "'Some of us will smart for it',” Troi said then trundled off, muttering to himself. Raven bowed elegantly then hurried after its fellow ‘bot. Cree sat there with his fingertips pressed tightly to his temples, trying to quell the nausea that was pushing up his throat. The pain was almost more than he could stand and it took every ounce of his strength to keep it at bay. When he heard Tylan snapping at Troi, he couldn't keep from smiling though the very movement of his facial muscles sent spirals of agony through his head. "'You are not worth the dust which the rude wind blows in your face'!” the ‘bot sneered. "And if you don't leave me the fuck alone I am going to turn your plastiform ass into dust!” Tylan hissed, spinning around to fix the ‘bot with a hateful glare. “Get the hell out of here. Why did you wake him up in the first place?" Troi lifted his head. “'There is something in the wind',” he said then stomped off. "Something in the wind? Something in the wind?” Tylan repeated. “What the hell is that supposed to mean you piece of plastiform shit?" "Could you snarl just a bit softer, Kahn?” Cree asked, wincing. “I think my queen summoned him to wake me." "Your parasite?” Tylan asked. He came up to the E.S.U. and lowered the side so the Prime Reaper could swing his legs down. "No, not the parasite,” Cree replied but didn't feel like explaining about the goddess who had spoken to him. "You look like shit,” Tylan said and put a hand out to smooth the hair from the Reaper's sweaty forehead.

"I feel like I've got a gods-be-damned ten-ton Diabolusian warthog sitting on my head,” Cree said as he struggled to ease his legs from the mattress of the E.S.U. "That bad, huh?" "That bad." "I was going to come wake you in about an hour anyway,” Tylan said. Cree lifted his head and looked up at Kahn. “Are we to Corinth yet?" "Corinth?” Tylan asked then grinned. “Reaper, we're about an hour from the backside of Terran's moon." The Reaper's mouth dropped open. “What?” he asked. "You heard me." "How long have I been asleep?" "Almost two months,” Tylan said. “We managed to encounter a solar storm that knocked us way off course or we'd have been closer to the Terran moon before now. You missed one helluva rocket ride during that storm and we have slight problem." "What kind of problem?" "Well, apparently while we've been gone, the Terrans have colonized their moon. It's a good thing we're on the far side but we won't be able to stay here without them eventually discovering us. We're going to have to find a place to dock this bird." "You mean on Terra?" "Aye,” Tylan said. “We can get it through their pitiful radar that's still antique as far as we're concerned, but finding a big enough space to land it then concealing it.... “He shook his head. “That's going to be a bitch." "We're really that close to home?” Cree asked, his eyes betraying his hope. Tylan nodded. “That close to home." Moisture filled Cree's eyes and he looked away, closing his lids over the tell-tale brightness. “That close to Bridget." Kahn smiled. “Aye, my friend. You're that close to her." The Reaper looked up quickly. “Are we safe?” he asked, searching Tylan's face. “Is it safe for me...." "Aye, but Caitlin, Khiershon's lady, doesn't want us to transport you down to Terra until she removes the M-Rs in your brain. She doesn't want to take the risk so she's got an operatory set up for that.” He scratched his chin. “We'll contact Beryla as soon as we're in orbit behind the moon. We will transport her, Amala, Aurora, Tina, and Ivonne up to help Caitlin. I don't think Dorrie needs to be in on it, do

you?" Cree shook his head and wished he hadn't. The action increased his nausea. “No, I don't want her or Bridie there when the procedure is done." "Might be hard to keep her from knowing,” Tylan said, “but I'll see what I can do." "I don't want Bridie here, Tylan. If something goes wrong...." "Nothing is going to go wrong,” Kahn stated emphatically. “LeJong Kym sent along your medical files which include the biomapping of the implants. She also sent the instruments that will be needed to remove those implants. Nothing—I repeat nothing—is going to go wrong." "We have much to bless LeJong for,” Cree said. Tylan expelled a long breath, gaining Cree's undivided attention. "There's something else?” the Reaper asked. "We received a transmission from Kym just as we cleared the wormhole. It was meant for your eyes only and was transferred from our main computer to a disklette. The message is encoded but she says you will know the correct password to access it. She stressed that you must view the disklette before you return to Terra. She said it was imperative that you do so." "Then let me see it,” Cree said. "You can do that after the implants are...." "Let me see it now, Tylan,” Cree interrupted. “If there is something that might cause harm to Bridget or my son, I want to know about it now." "Cree...." "Let me see it." The two men stared at one another for a long moment then Tylan nodded. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and took out the disk. “I knew you'd get stubborn about it so I brought it along.” He looked around at the computer console and went over to drop the disklette into the slot. “Want me to stay?" "No,” Cree said. If there was something bad coming, he didn't want an audience to watch him come apart. "You sure?" "Aye.” He eased off the bed of the E.S.U. and wavered, putting a hand to the pain eating away at his brain. Tylan quickly took his arm and helped him to the chair in front of the computer. “I want to go on record that I don't think this is a good idea right now." "So noted, Admiral,” Cree said as he sat down, heaving a sigh.

Tylan stood there a moment then shrugged. “Holler if you need me,” he said as he headed for the door. "I'm in no condition to holler, Kahn,” Cree replied. Once the door to his quarters was closed, the Prime Reaper put his hand on the mouse and clicked through the programs until he found the one that would read the disklette. He typed in the word Ruesello then slumped in the chair as the computer screen switched from complete black to the unsmiling face of the new Prophetess-Mother. "This can't be good if you look so grim, LeJong,” he said softly but almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the woman on the screen smiled gently. "Hello, Kamerone,” she said. “If you are viewing this, it means you have reached your destination and for that I am thankful. As much as I will miss you, I am happy that you will be with your lady soon." Cree felt those words to the very depths of his heart. "And since you are viewing this, it also means the pathway into my part of the megaverse has been closed. The wormhole has been collapsed and there will be no way for any of your enemies to come after you ever again." That news brought relief to the Prime Reaper. "There was so much I wanted to say to you while you were here,” Kym said, “but we never had the time. Perhaps that was good for the longer you stayed on my world, the harder it would have been for me to let you leave." He sensed a deep sadness in the Chrystallusian woman and did not need to hear her say the words to know she loved him deeply and perhaps always would. He felt a modicum of guilt that softened his facial expression. "Well, that is beside the issue at hand. There are more important things to be discussed than the ill-fated feelings of a silly woman. I must tell you about the Transference,” she said, her smile disappearing. “You need to have this information before you and Bridget are together again." Fear shivered down Cree's spine. "You know now the Morrígú curse was a lie, a cover up for what Jarl and Sejm did to your mother and her sisters, for having infected those women with the parasite as soon as they conceived. You know that you and the bloodkin you have safely with you on that StarRaider were biogenetically engineered. That is something you can never change. You are what you are and you have been since birth." Cree ran his hands down the pant legs of his jumpsuit, realizing he was trembling more from what might be revealed than the agony ripping at him. "Aye, my Reaper,” Kym said. “You are what you are but such is not the case with Jaelin." Though the pain was singeing a hole through his temples, Cree sat up straighter, instinctively knowing the Prophetess-Mother was about to say something that could totally destroy him.

"As you well know the sperm with which you impregnated Bridget was rife with Reaper spore. All Reaper sperm is so infected but none of it—not one single swimmer as the Terran's call them—contains even one fledgling.” She smiled. “You can not make a Reaper from sperm, Kamerone. You make a Reaper with a fledgling and unless you perform Transference upon your son, Jaelin, he will never be a Reaper." Cree's eyes widened. "He will surely have your speed and agility, your strength, and intelligence for those things are part of your genetic makeup that he will have inherited. He will look like you, but he will notbe like you." Putting a shaky hand to his lips, Cree felt the tears easing down his cheeks. "Be happy, my sweet Reaper,” Kym said. “Be happy and be safe.” Her lips trembled. “May the Wind be always at your back, Kamerone Cree." Then the computer screen went black again. He sat there for the longest time absorbing the information Kym had given him. He couldn't move and he no longer felt the pain tearing at his temples. Unaware that small streams of black blood were trickling from his ears, dripping over the hand he had pressed over his mouth, he stared unseeingly at the blank computer screen. When the door to his quarters shushed open, he didn't even notice. "Cree?” Tylan asked gently. Getting no answer, he went to stand behind the Prime Reaper. “Are you all right?" "No,” Cree said and started to slump forward. Tylan moved quickly and grabbed his friend, pulling him back. He looked down, saw the blood, and shouted for help.

Chapter Twenty-eight Sitting behind her desk pouring over the quarterly reports Beryla whooped when the small transmitting device she wore as a charm on the gold bracelet on her right arm chimed. She rushed for her pocketbook in the drawer next to her desk and jerked it open, fumbling for the vid-com receiver that looked like an old-fashioned cell phone. She punched her personal code in and nearly melted when she saw her husband's face on the screen. "Lares!” she cried. “You're home!" "Indeed I am, wench,” Taborn agreed. “You are needed on our ship." The happiness flitting through Beryla diminished a bit. “What's wrong? Who's hurt?” Her hand tightened on the vid-com receiver. “Oh, Lares! Is he with you? Is he all right? Is he...?" "We accomplished what we set out to do, woman, and he is, indeed, with us, but he is very ill. He needs you and your team as quickly as possible.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Where is his lady?" Beryla nearly groaned. “Oh, my god!” she said. “She is in the hills of South Dakota. She and Jaelin..."

"That is the best news I've heard lately,” Lares cut her off. “I have no idea where those hills are but Bridget is not to know her man is home yet. Do you understand?" Another portion of Beryla's happiness slipped away. “Why? How badly is he hurt?" He ignored her questions. “We are reading your signals as being all close together. I do not know how that can be but I am grateful for it beyond measure. Gather your team in one central location then activate the vid-com,” her husband said. “We will bring you up." "Do I need to bring...?” Before she could ask anything else Lares was gone. She stood there for a moment longer—too stunned to react—then sprang into action, punching in the extension numbers for Aurora, Amala, Tina, and Ivonne. Twenty minutes later, Caitlin was standing in the transporter room of the Ailith waiting for Dr. Dean and her assistants to materialize. As soon as they did, she rushed forward—recognizing Dr. Dean from her husband's description—and put out a hand. “Beryla? I'm Caitlin. Everything is ready for us in sick bay." Beryla shook Caitlin's hand quickly then released it. “How is he?" "Several of the neurotransmitter implants have migrated and begun pressing on the cranial nerves. Number three in the frontal cortex is nowhere near its original position according to the biomaps. Because of that migration, his migraines have been extremely severe,” she said as she led Beryla and the other four women to the elevator. She punched the button to bring it back down to them then turned to give Beryla a steady look. “I have his original biomaps from when the M-Rs were implanted and I've taken new magnetic resonances to map where they are now. A second implant in the frontal lobe has shifted and Cree is also experiencing quadriparesis, weakness in all four limbs. "I know what quadriparesis is, Caitlin,” Beryla said as the elevator doors opened and the six of them entered the cage. "I'm sorry,” Caitlin said. “I know you do. It's just that when I saw the mess those bastards had made of his brain...." "I know,” Beryla said and laid a hand on Caitlin's arm. “Much to my unpardonable shame I was one of those bastards." "Aye, but you didn't put those fucking implants in his head,” Tina declared. The elevator stopped and the doors slid back. Caitlin exited ahead of the other women and turned left toward the operatory where Cree was being prepped. "There are lesions in the occipital lobe,” Caitlin said. "Any bleeding associated with those?” Beryla asked. Caitlin nodded. “Aye and he's had a couple of resulting seizures.” She stopped at the entrance to the operating suite and turned to give Beryla a hard look. “From what Dorrie tells me...." "She's here, too?” Aurora asked. “Is she okay?"

"Aye,” Caitlin said with a wave of her hand. “From what she tells me, when you had him in the Be-Mod unit, you were very careful not to touch the implants." "We certainly were careful not to dislodge them although we were assured that was highly unlikely,” Beryla said. "Did you know what material composed those implants?" "I know they were platinum wires inside thick glass tubes,” Beryla said. “We were told they could deactivate, but that it would be dangerous to try to remove them. Obviously that is a risk we must take. Why do you ask?" "Khiershon, Cree's eldest son, is my mate. He questioned me as to why the parasite wasn't healing his father as it should. I explained that the parasite has no way to either destroy or disable the implants because of the material from which they were made. Apparently Dr. Jarl took that into consideration before inserting the implants." "That man's name makes by blood boil,” Ivonne said with a hiss. "Kam once remarked to me that Lord Tray Onar had used some kind of probe on him to manipulate the number three receptor,” Beryla remarked. "For what purpose?” Caitlin asked. "To torture him,” Beryla answered. “He did a number on Kam before our menfolk were able to get him out the hands of the Multitude." "That's more than likely when the probes began to shift,” Ivonne commented. “Onar wouldn't have taken any care in how he moved the implants since Cree was to be executed." "It's a wonder one of the implants didn't shatter,” Aurora said. "I imagine its damned strong glass and glass is the one substance the parasite can't dissolve with its acid,” Beryla stated. “Once we remove the implants, it can set about healing the lesions and whatever it needs to do to make Cree healthy again." "It is the parasite continually healing the lesions that are already forming that has aggravated the situation. The more the parasite moves around the area infected by the implant's migration, the more pain it inadvertently causes,” Caitlin said. “Thankfully Khiershon was able to explain that to his father so Cree could communicate with his revenant queen and ask her to allow us to do our job." "Otherwise, she would have been attacking the instruments we will use to extract the implants,” Beryla said. “That had not occurred to me." "Thankfully it occurred to Khiershon,” Caitlin said and opened the door for Beryla and her team to precede her into the operating suite. She quickly introduced Barb Fuller, Lisa Mahon, and four other MedTech from theOrion . “Go on and scrub up. I need to speak to my mate before we begin." Beryla nodded, motioning her team to begin the sterilization process. “So we have another Reaper on board."

"Khiershon is Kam's eldest, eh?” Amala asked. "I guess he is,” Tina answered. "Wonder if he looks anything like his bloodsire,” Aurora put in as she put on the surgical scrubs Barb held out to her. "They could be brothers instead of father and son,” Lisa told the women. “The Prime Reaper's youngest looks just like him, too." Beryla blinked. “There is a third Reaper on board?” she asked. Lisa grinned. “Ma'am, including Kamerone Cree, there are thirteen of them on board,” she replied. "What?” Beryla gasped. Lisa nodded. “Five are sons of Cree's and another one who was given one of the Prime Reaper's fledglings in Rysalia Prime is a female." "A female?” Aurora exclaimed. "And here we thought Bridie was the only Reaper female,” Ivonne said with a whistle. "Oh, my,” Beryla said, shivers running down her spine. “I'm not sure our little blue-green planet is ready for thirteen Reapers. One was bad enough." "Fourteen with Bridie,” Ivonne corrected. "Now that is a very uneasy thought,” Amala said.

Chapter Twenty-Nine It was a balmy 64 degrees that lovely May morning as Bridget drove along the serpentine blacktop winding amidst the pristine one hundred and seventy acres of lush rolling hills Aurora Burds had purchased for her getaway home. The magnificent six bedroom log structure had been built in the middle of old yellow bark pine acreage and had a panoramic view of the Red Canyon in the Southern Black Hills. "There's Old Pete, Ma,” Jaelin said, pointing to the scruffy elk munching grass at the edge of the private roadway. The elk looked up, shook its heavy rack, and then went back to grazing. "We need to get some more salt blocks for our friendly elk and deer neighbors,” Bridie said. “Along with the cracked corn for the wild turkeys." Jaelin nodded absently, returning his attention to the hand-held game he was rapidly plying with both thumbs. Thankfully he had the sound muted else his mother would have been grinding her teeth. His head was lowered, the hood of his black sweatshirt cocked to one side on his broad shoulders. He had both feet planted on the dashboard of the Dodge Ram pickup his mother was driving. His knees were crooked, the laces of one black tennis shoe partially untied, the leg bouncing nervously as he played the

game. Bridie glanced over at her son and—as it always did—her heart filled with pride. Jaelin had his father dark good looks with a head full of glossy brown curls that tended to sweep low over the boy's forehead. A year before, he had cajoled Bridie into allowing him to get his ear pierced and he now sported a slim gold hoop that had once belonged to his father. From the black t-shirt under the hoodie to the black jeans and black sneakers, the only thing different between father and son was the deep, vibrant green of Jaelin's eyes, though his eyelashes had the same long, gently upswept spikiness Kamerone's possessed. "Why black?” his mother asked, a bit concerned that every piece of clothing her son purchased was that somber color. "I don't know,” Jaelin had shrugged. “I just like it. It makes me feel special." "You are special,” Bridie assured him. "Yes ma'am, but you know...." And she had known. Like father, like son. As far as Jaelin knew his father was imprisoned in a distant, enemy land but there were forces at work vying for his release. The one and only photograph Bridie had of the man who had sired him sat on Jaelin's dresser in a gilt frame that bore the numerous fingerprints of son and wife, the glass often smeared with the lip smudges and tears of the woman who loved him. The photograph always accompanied them to the Black Hills each year. "He's a real dude, huh, Ma?” Jaelin had once asked. "He's truly Prime,” she had replied. Jaelin looked up from his game. “Can we go up to Wind Cave again soon, Ma?” he asked. Bridie smiled. “You like it up there, don't you?” They had spent many hours taking the various cave tours. It was among Jaelin's favorite things to do. "Yes ma'am, I really do.” He frowned. "What's the matter?” Bridie asked. For the last year she'd been on pins and needles and every little twinge that affected her son caught her attention. He was so close to that mystical, magical line all males crossed between the ages of eleven and fifteen. Already his voice was beginning to embarrass him by cracking at the oddest times. "I'm hungry,” he announced. He reached behind the seat to the bag of chips he had stashed there alongside cartons of malted milk balls, pretzels, cheese curls, and only the gods knew what else. Like father, like son. "When we get into Hot Springs, we can go to the diner if you want,” Bridie said. “Today's Taco Tuesday." Jaelin's white teeth sparkled with a grin that turned his young face from being merely handsome to absolutely breathtaking. “All right! I want a ton of fried jalapenos with cream cheese on the side!"

Bridie groaned. Like Kamerone, his son had a cast iron stomach. "Have you been feeling a bit too warm lately, sweetie?” his mother asked, giving him another curious glance. "No ma'am.” Always polite, proud of his southern heritage, Jaelin never failed to show the manners his mother had taught him. He was unfailingly courteous around women and older people—opening doors for them, carrying packages if they'd let him, helping them across the street. His was a kind and gentle heart and combined with the face of a young dark god, the people of Hot Springs, SD never failed to notice him when he and his mother came to town. "You really ought to enroll him in school,” one woman had suggested—at the prodding of her daughter Bridie was sure. "He's home schooled,” Bridie said and soon found a member of the board of education on her doorstep to investigate her credentials for teaching her son at home. The man had gone away with a very healthy respect for Bridget and her near-genius offspring. Hot Springs was a beautiful town with turn of the century sandstone buildings spreading out along the town square. The people were friendly and the town had everything Bridie and her son required: a taco shop, a sub shop, assorted fast food places, a really excellent diner, hardware store, movie rental store, and quaint shops in which to while away a few minutes. It was a great place to live near and it suited mother and son just fine. Each spring they took advantage of Aurora's offer to hibernate in the luxury log home. But never when Bridget was close to Transition. "Another trip for Aunt Beryla?” Jaelin would ask when he'd see his mother packing. "Yep, gonna be gone a week or so." Though she hated to lie to her son, the truth was not possible until she was sure Jaelin could handle the knowledge of what his mother had become and what his father was. The closer it came to her son's first time, the more nervous Bridget became. "You should warn him of what's to come, Bridie,” both Beryla and Aurora had cautioned but it was something Bridget kept putting off. She knew when her son began to change, it would frighten him, but it would underscore what he was much stronger than her telling him ever could. "Not feeling itchy or anything like that, are you?” she asked as she put on the left turn signal to pull into the gas station. Jaelin looked over at her. “No, ma'am. Why?" "Just wondering,” she replied, pulling up to the tank. “Wanna pump the gas for me?" "Sure." Several teenage boys were lurking around in front of the convenience store and they gave Jaelin the once over. Bridget paid no attention. She knew there were vibes her son gave off unconsciously that would

make any other male think twice about challenging him. When he took the money inside for the gas, they'd step aside for him, mumble a stiff greeting, and not even understand why they felt compelled to do so. But girls were another matter, Bridie thought as she spied three pre-teen girls sitting on a bench across the street staring openly at Jaelin. She turned her head to watch them and had to purse her lips when they giggled loud enough to gain her son's attention. She saw him glance at them and was fairly sure he was returning their close scrutiny as he stood with his hand unnecessarily on the nozzle's handle, bent over so he could look over the hood at them. One girl—obviously braver or more brazen than the other two—actually lifted a hand to wave her fingers at him and Bridie had to hide a laugh when Jaelin tossed his head and swept his free hand through his dark hair. She could have sworn he gave the little tart a quick nod of the head to accompany that matinee idol gesture and she was even surer he was grinning that lopsided little smirk that was so like his father's. "Gonna be a heartbreaker, that one,” Beryla had pronounced. Fishing in her purse, she came up with the two twenties to pay for the gas. She flicked the electric window down on the passenger side and leaned over to hand her son the money. She watched Jaelin strut into the convenience store and past the teenage boys—older and bigger than him—who, indeed, stepped aside and nodded. Jaelin nodded back and went on inside, casting one final glance over his shoulder at the girls across the street. More giggles erupted from across the street and as Bridget put a hand to her mouth to still her laughter, the brazen girl came sprinting across the street, her short skirt swaying around narrow little hips. "Hi,” the girl said, coming up to Bridget's side of the truck. "Hi back,” Bridie said. "I'm Siobhan Foster,” the girl said, politely extending a hand. Bridget took it. “Bridget,” she replied. "What's his name?” the girl asked, her periwinkle blue eyes gleaming. "Jaelin." "Oooh,” Siobhan said. “You're staying out to the Burd House, aren't you?" Bridget flinched. She hated that name. “Yes we are." "And you home school Jae, huh?" Jae? Bridget silently repeated. "Yes, I do." "Well, my parents are having a barbeque this Saturday and I thought maybe you'd like to come over."

A slow, knowing grin spread over Bridie's face. “I'll have to ask Jaelin what he thinks but...." The girl's attention snapped away from Bridget and she realized Siobhan had been waiting for Jaelin to come out of the convenience store. If it was possible for a pre-teenage to do so, Siobhan Foster began to melt where she stood. It was one thing to get a glimpse at a young dark god across the street but to have him coming toward you in all his earthy glory was a different matter altogether. Jaelin gave his mother a glance as he opened the door and got into the truck. "Jaelin, this is Siobhan,” Bridie introduced. "Hey,” Jaelin acknowledged and once more his hand plowed through his hair. "Hey, right back atcha,” Siobhan said on a long sigh. Her fingers were curled over the window ledge. "Siobhan has invited us to a barbeque at her parents’ house this Saturday,” Bridie told her son. "Cool.” The word was cavalier and spoken in a deep bass voice that made Bridget turn to stare at her son. "Then you'll come?” Siobhan asked much too eagerly. "We'll see,” he said in that same deep tone. He gave his mother another glance and cocked a dark brow. "Oh, yeah, right,” Bridie said, mentally picking up on her son's suggestion and wondering if he was even aware he'd nudged her. “Gotta run, Siobhan.” She reached for the key. "I'll call you, okay?” Siobhan asked. “The Burd House is in the book, right?" "Yes,” Bridie said with a wince. "See ya, Jaelin,” the young girl said. Jaelin propped a foot on the dashboard and rested his wrist on his knee. “Take care, milady,” he said once more in that strange, adult-sounding voice. Bridie's mouth dropped open and she couldn't get the truck in gear fast enough, practically peeling out of the convenience store parking lot and leaving Siobhan staring at them. "Milady?” Bridie questioned. “Milady?" Jaelin shrugged. “Whatever,” he said and took up his electronic game again, bringing his other foot up to the dash. “We gonna get those tacos, Ma?" **** After a satisfying wallow in all the tacos and fried jalapenos he could eat washed down with copious amounts of ice-cold root beer, Jaelin had begged his mother to drive over to Wind Cave. They had spent the afternoon touring the caves he was beginning to know like the back of his hand. "Why do these caves fascinate you so, sweetie?” she asked as they'd gone back to their car to drive

home. "There's just something so alien about them,” Jaelin had responded. “It's almost like being on another world when you're inside, you know?" She did know ... only too well. The phone was ringing when they returned home. "I'll get it,” Jaelin said in an off-handed way that belied the hurrying of his footsteps up the steps, fishing his set of keys out of his jeans’ pocket. "If it's for me, I'm not here,” Bridie said with a laugh. Stepping up on the porch, she heard that strange word once more: milady and sighed deeply. It brought back such aching memories and she suddenly felt so old, so alone. Thinking to give her son some privacy, she sat down in one of the white rocking chairs Aurora had bought and stretched out her legs. The air was a bit cooler now and she pulled her cardigan tighter over her chest. The view was so beautiful, so peaceful, yet her heart felt anything but. When the first real spike of uneasiness pricked at her, she barely noticed it for melancholy had washed over her entire being. How long the woman had been standing at the edge of the bushes that flanked each side of the cabin, Bridie didn't know. She became aware of her only when the parasite inside her began to writhe beneath the skin of Bridie's back. Very slowly, she got to her feet and walked to the porch railing. "May I help you?” Bridie asked, not liking the intense feeling crawling over her or the painful movement of the parasite. The woman stepped away from the bushes and across the grass. She was slender with long brown hair worn in a thick braid that hung over her left shoulder. She was dressed in faded jeans and a bulky cable knit white sweater and black hiking boots. “Hello,” she said as she neared the porch. "Are you lost?” Bridie asked. "No.” She turned to point over the ridge that separated Aurora's land from the next estate. “I live over there." Agitation was flooding Bridie's system and she could hear the accelerated beat of her heart. She knew the other woman could, too. "We felt you last year when you were visiting but we never got a chance to visit,” the woman said. "We?” Bridie said, her brow furrowed. “Who else knows we're here?" "That would be me." Bridie jumped, spinning around to see a tall, very intimidating man standing at the opposite side of the porch. Dressed entirely in black—long sleeve pullover sweater, black leather pants and black boots—there was no mistaking what he was. She backed toward the front door. "We aren't your enemies,” the woman said. “We hope to be your friends."

Bridie was almost to the front door, reaching behind her for the handle. The man and woman were walking toward one another from opposite ends of the porch. "Your son isn't one of us,” the man said and put a foot on the porch's bottom step. He leaned over with his arms crossed over his knee. “Does he know what you are?" Her parasite buckled along her back and Bridie cried out, dropping to one knee from the acute pain. Before she could stop him, the man was on the porch and lifting her, taking her toward the porch swing, his wife right behind him. "Go away,” Bridie said. The very thought of other Reapers on her home world scared the hell out of her. “Leave us alone." "Our son isn't one of us, either,” the woman said. “Do you know why?" Scrambling up in the swing until she was hovering in the corner, Bridie shook her head. “Please go away. I don't know who you are but...." "I am Viraidan Cree,” the man said. “This is my wife Bronwyn." Bridie's eyes widened. “Cree?” she whispered. "My ship crashed thousands of years ago in what is now Ireland,” the man said. "Was your son's father part of the Fuilghaoth project?” the woman asked. "Fuilghaoth?” Bridget repeated. She was staring at first one and then the other, sweat breaking out on her upper lip. "It means blood wind in Chalean,” the man told her. “Was your mate one of the Reapers at the feudal fortress on the Ballynahinch River? Was he a Stalcaire?" "A what?” Bridget asked. She shook her head. “I don't know what you're talking about." "From where did your mate come?” the man asked. He was standing in front of the swing with his arms folded over a brawny chest that stretched the pullover. She wasn't going to answer him, but she recognized the mental push he gave her all too well and felt tears enter her eyes. "He was born on Rysalia Prime,” she said. “He was Ry-Chalean." The man winced. “A powerful combination of races,” he pronounced. “How did he come to be on Terra?" Though she tried otherwise, she could do nothing else but answer him truthfully. He was as powerful as Kamerone and apparently just as determined. Her fear of him was increasing with every breath she took. "He is a Reaper,” she said.

"As am I,” the man said. “I repeat: how did he come to be here?" "Viraidan,” the woman said quietly. “This isn't an interrogation.” She moved to sit beside Bridget. “I was born here on Terra. We've been Joined since 1996 and Aidan gave me one of his fledglings a year later. We were living in Iowa then but when people began noticing we didn't age, we began moving. Our last stop was here." "Where in Iowa?” Bridget asked, searching Bronwyn's eyes. "A small town named Kellogg. Both Aidan and I worked at the Baybridge, a private maximum security prison for the criminally insane,” she replied. "I know what it is,” Bridget said. “I went to college in Grinnell." "Really?” Bronwyn exclaimed. Her face lit up. “What a coincidence. Where are you from originally?" "Mount Vernon, Iowa but I live in Albany, Georgia now." Bronwyn gasped, pivoting her head around to stare at her husband. “Aidan, did you...?" "I came to this world from Chale,” the man interrupted. He narrowed his eyes. “The name Cree meant something to you. What?" "It is my husband's name,” Bridget said. There were goose bumps on her arms and she was shivering, her lips quivering. "I am from Albany,” Bronwyn said, giving it the pronunciation of all-benny as a native from there would say it instead of the awl-buh-ny that Bridget had used. "What was his bloodsire's name?” the man asked. "General Drae Cree. His mother was Analeis Brell from the royal house of Chale." "It was Captain Kyrish Brell of Rysalia who found the wormhole,” the man said. "A distant relative of my husband's mother,” Bridget said. She hugged her arms around her, keeping an eye on the door for her son. "Cree is a common enough name,” the man said. “I doubt we are kin but it is strange we share the Reaper bond." "And the Iowa and Georgia connections,” his wife reminded him. "Where is he now?” the Reaper asked. Bridget was beginning to feel a small amount of ease with these people. Her parasite had stopped writhing and was no longer causing her trouble. If the revenant worm no longer sensed danger, Bridie could relax her guard a bit. "He was taken by the Amazeen..."

"Son of a fucking bitch!” the Reaper snarled and stomped over to the railing. He sat down, his hips on the rail and his long legs stuck out in front of him. “Was it a BlackWind who came after him?" "A what?” Bridget said then shook her head. “No, she was a major. My husband's friends have gone after him. Hopefully before Jaelin—our son—transitions, they will bring Kamerone home." The Reaper gave her a steady look. In the fading light as the sun started down, his amber eyes took on a reddish glow. “Wench, your son is not one of us just as our son is not one of us. They are not Reaper nor will they ever be." Bridget shook her head. “No, his father was a Prime Reaper and..." "So was I yet our son, Colton, is not Reaper." "How old is your son?” Bridget asked. "He was born in 2001,” Bronwyn said. “Aidan and I kept trying but when we least expected him, I conceived." "That would make him...” Bridget whistled. “Your son is sixty-two years old?" "And looks it,” Viraidan said sadly. He himself did not look a day over thirty-five. “He doesn't want the Transference and we have unwillingly accepted it though it hurts to watch him age each year." "He married but his wife was never able to give him a child. She died in a car accident about four years ago. Colton doesn't seem interested in finding a new mate,” Bronwyn added. “He just sits and rocks with Cedric, our Nightwind, and together they keep each other entertained telling jokes." "You were a Reaper when you conceived him?” Bridie asked Bronwyn. "I was but unless a fledgling is given to the offspring of a Reaper either in utero or once he's old enough to endure the Transition, he will never be one of us." "Jaelin will never Transition, Bridget, unless you decide to give him a Transference,” Cree said softly. "Kamerone didn't know that,” Bridget said. “I didn't know it. He always told me his sperm was rife with the parasite's spore so we just assumed our son would Transition at puberty." "That's part of the reason we wanted to meet you,” Bronwyn said. “That and the fact that we didn't know there were other Reapers left after Fuilghaoth was destroyed.” She sighed. “At least we had hoped there aren't." "You said your husband's friend went after him. They have a ship?" "The one we came here from Rysalia on,” Bridget said and when he would have questioned her, she held up a hand. “It's a long story. Let it suffice to say they went after him and they will do everything they can to return him to me." "Are they Reaper, too?” he asked. "No. They are mostly Rysalians but there is also a Necromanian and a Serenian among them. When we

fled Rysalia Prime, we brought six other women with us. All but one of them is in Georgia." "Where is the other?” Bronwyn asked. "She was taken captive with my husband.” She shrugged. “It's complicated." "We need to tell you our story and you need to tell us yours,” the Reaper said. “Then we need to decide what must be done." "Done? What do you mean?” Bridget inquired. "There is a war coming,” Viraidan Cree said. “The news is full of worse and worse atrocities taking place in the Middle East each day. Terrorists are set to blow this world apart. When that happens, we need to have those we love, those close to us, near by. We will survive where the others won't." "We have a Nightwind and a Bugul Noz with us,” Bronwyn said. “They, too, are creatures upon which the war will have no effect. I have a friend in Florida who has a Nightwind of her own. She and their daughter will come here when the time is right. Viraidan's father, Brian, is with us, as well, and he is a Reaper." "He's not really my father,” her husband grumbled. "The closest thing you've ever had,” Bronwyn countered. "We need to plan, wench,” the Reaper stated, apparently not willing to concede the point. "We have been building a fortress here beneath the Black Hills for ten years. It's big enough for at least fifty people as it stands now but there are three chambers that can be extended so we could hold up to four times that many,” Bronwyn added. “The problem is, humans would not be able to exist down there for very long. Those we take with us must be willing to have the..." The front door opened and Jaelin stepped out. He stared at their visitors for a moment then walked straight toward the Reaper who pushed away from the porch rail and straightened up. Kamerone's son put out his hand. “I am Jaelin,” he said. The tall man took his hand. “I am Viraidan." "Are you a Reaper, too?” the young man asked.

Chapter Thirty Beryla leaned over the table upon which Kamerone Cree was laying and grinned. “Hey there, sailor? Come here often?" "Only when I'm looking for pretty ladies to put their hands on me,” the Reaper said. His words were slow and mumbled, his smile tremulous, but his eyes were gleaming. "Well, you've come to the right place, stud,” Beryla told him with a wink. She placed a kiss on his brow then straightened up to give him a steady look. “How do you feel and don't sugarcoat it, okay?"

"I hurt,” he said. “I really hurt, Milady." Beryla nodded. For him to admit such a thing, he had to be in terrible pain. “It won't be for much longer, sweetie. I promise.” She stood still for Barb Fuller to tie a surgical mask over her face. Caitlin and Lisa Mahon were standing off to one side, unfamiliar with what Beryla was going to do but standing by in case they were needed. The Reaper's arms were already strapped down at right angles to his body and an IV line had been placed. Tina came into his line of view. “Hey handsome,” she greeted him, her smiling eyes the only thing he could see of her pretty face. “How's about taking a little trip to dreamland for us?" Cree's gaze snapped back to Beryla. “I'm not going to be awake?" "Hell, no, you aren't going to be awake,” Beryla stated as though he'd offended her. She nodded her head toward a vid-com screen where the latest biomaps of his brain Caitlin had taken that morning could be viewed. The biomaps showed where the seven implants were located. “That's a lot of digging around in that noodle of yours. I wouldn't think about allowing you to be awake and knowing you, you'd make snide remarks all the way through.” She shook her head. “Your cute little ass is gonna be out, baby." Ivonne had rolled an instrument tray up to the table and he instinctively turned his head to look at it. As soon as it saw the probes—those long thin metallic tubes—he shuddered and unconsciously groaned, squeezing his eyes closed to blot out the sight. "Are those what Onar used on you?” Beryla asked. "Aye,” he whispered, reliving the agony the bastard had inflicted on him long ago. "They are needed to remove the implants, Kam, but I swear to you, you won't feel them going in this time,” Beryla said. “You'll be asleep for the entire procedure." Tina was introducing some kind of milky substance to his IV line and he watched the liquid dropping down the tube. "Count backwards from one hundred for me, okay?” Tina said. Cree swallowed then let out a long breath. He looked into her eyes. “One hundred, ninety-nine...." The liquid flowed into his arm. "Close your eyes,” Tina instructed and when he did, she glanced over at Beryla. “He's learning." "Ninety-eight, ninety-sev...." The women watched him try to finish the word and when he couldn't, his entire body seemed to melt into the table. "He's out,” Tina pronounced. "Let's get to it, then."

A robotic arm moved into place over Cree and a gridline of pale green lights appeared on his head. At the cross-sections of the grids, a pulsing red dot showed exactly where each implant was located. Starting with the easiest implants to remove, Aurora sectioned off a small area of hair over the entry point and held it aside for Beryla. Since the probe was as thin as a glass filament yet as tough as a diamond drill bit and attached to an ultra-high speed laser pack in the handle, it easily slid through the layer of skin covering the Reaper's skull and penetrated the bone like a hot knife through butter. The wafer-thinness of the probe would make brain resection and retraction unnecessary. Laser guided to the implant, it was flanged at the end so it could open like fingers to grasp the implant. A minute camera was embedded high up in the probe and a view of the implant, its position, and the lesions around it was transmitted to a screen over the operating table. Positioning the probe directly over the implant, Beryla activated the flanged end to attach it to the implant and then retract it slowly. The first five removals went smoothly and fairly quickly with no intracranial bleeds or unnecessary invasion of the tissue surrounding the implant. The sixth removal in the frontal cortex proved to be a bit more challenging. Dorrie had entered the room quietly, no one paying any attention to her as she joined the other women at the operating table. She was gowned and masked just as the others were in dark maroon surgical garb. "You aren't supposed to be in here,” Beryla commented as she worked to get the probe around the sixth implant. “He didn't want you here and he won't like it." "Then don't tell him,” Dorrie said as she slipped her hand into the Reaper's and threaded her fingers through his. There was no more talk as Barb blotted Beryla's forehead and every eye kept flashing to the screen over the table. "Damn,” Beryla said, rotating her head from side to side to help relieve the strain. “This thing is buried deeper than it was ever meant to be and the lesions around it need to be excised first so I can get at the implant." "Can you use that probe to do stereotactic excisions?” Aurora asked. "Not this one. It was never meant for such a thing,” Beryla said and gently withdrew the probe. “That's what the second probe is for. It has a cutting edge on its flange." "Sort of like the old Cyber-Knife technology when I was in med school,” Caitlin remarked. "Exactly,” Beryla said and picked up the second probe that was longer than the first one. “How's he doing?" Tina checked the readouts for their patient. “Going with the flow,” she said. “Everything looks good." Once more the room fell into silence as Beryla slowly inserted the second probe and worked methodically and quickly to excise the lesions caused from the migration of the implant. "When Onar tortured him, he dislodged the implant,” Beryla said. “I wish I had that bastard on this table right now. I'd show him what pain really is."

"Onar's toast,” Dorrie said. “I talked to a woman who helped throw that bastard's body onto the fire." "I remember how he ordered all those brutal sessions for Kam,” Ivonne remarked. “Especially that second go-round that was completely unnecessary." "The only reason Onar did that was to get his jollies watching Kam suffer,” Dorrie grumbled. "I remember those three sessions all too well,” Beryla said. “The bastard kept asking Kam if Bridget was worth being punished for.” She frowned. “I wondered then and I'm wondering now if Onar didn't have a thing for Kam." "He liked men,” Ivonne said. “That may have been why he did it." "I'll never forget the look on Bridie's face when her Reaper told Onar that she was worth it,” Amala said. "That's the first lesion,” Beryla said. “I think I can use the other probe to extract it." It was a time-consuming procedure that ate up the clock. By the time the fourth of the lesions surrounding the sixth probe had been extracted, Beryla had been standing at the table three hours, but she was able to clamp onto the deep implant and remove it. She held it up for everyone to see. "I'll wager this is the bugger that's been causing him so much pain,” she said. "Six down and one to go,” Aurora said. “Wanna take a break, Beryla?" Beryla shook her head. “No, I want to get this done." "The removal of the other Reapers’ implants shouldn't take this long, do you think?” Dorrie asked. "They won't,” Caitlin spoke up. “I've done biomaps of each of the other eleven and their implants are right where they are supposed to be with no lesions surrounding them." "What about the twelfth Reaper?” Beryla asked. "That's our female and she doesn't have any implants,” Caitlin told her. “The implants were a Rysalian thing and the Multitude saw no need to give them to Danielle." "I'm happy to hear it,” Beryla said. She flexed her back. “Let's get this last one, ladies." They had saved the hardest for last and it proved to be buried so deeply in Kam's brain, it took another hour for Beryla to retrieve it. By the time she was finished, the lesions surrounding it excised, she was exhausted, no longer accustomed to such intense and complex surgical work. She stretched with her hands to the small of her back and let out a long, heartfelt sigh. Dorrie stood where she was as Barb and Lisa moved into place to remove Cree's straps. "He is a very handsome man,” Barb said as she looked down at the Reaper's sleeping face. "I remember the first time I saw him,” Dorrie said with a smile. “He came into the Be-Mod unit like an enraged bull. Here was all this power, this authority, this danger strutting through the door in that

intimidating black uniform. I took one look at those fierce amber eyes, that brutal expression, and hated him with every fiber of my being. "When did that change?” Lisa asked. Dorrie shrugged. “I really don't know. We had him in our hands longer than any other patient and we did things to him that I knew were tearing him apart and yet he managed to smile at Bridget." "The sublims were responsible for that,” Amala commented. "Partially,” Dorrie said, “but I don't think it was entirely the sublims. Remember, the reason the Resistance chose her was because he'd looked at her that time in passing." "And because he did, his entire world was turned upside down,” Ivonne said. “If he had known what that one look was going to start.... “She cocked one shoulder. “I agree, though. I think it was meant to be between him and Bridie and if you were to ask him, he'd tell you he'd do it all again to be with her." "He loves her that much?” Barb asked. "Girl, you don't know the half of it,” Dorrie said with a snort. “That man worships the woman. There isn't another woman in the world for him except her." "And how does she feel about him?” Lisa asked. “Wasn't she given sublims, too?" "Aye, but he is the love of her life. The sublims eventually wore off, but the love has held,” Amala replied. "They were meant to be together,” Dorrie said, stroking his bare arm. **** Before she left to take a quick shower and change back into her regular clothes, Beryla had given instructions on how Cree was to be cared for. She wanted to make sure he was kept immobile for at least twenty-four hours to give his parasite time to heal all the invasive work that had been done in the Reaper's brain. “It's up to you,” she'd said to the revenant worm. “Try not to hurt him." She turned to Amala, Tina, Ivonne, and Aurora. “I know you're anxious to see your men so get going. Caitlin's crew can handle him from now on.” She looked at Dorrie. "I'm not going anywhere,” Dorrie said. After cleaning up, Beryla went in search of Tylan, Caitlin beside her, but her heart was hammering like a piston wanting—needing—to see her husband, Lares. With every step she took, her breath was more erratic, her blood pounding in her head. "I had them assemble in the conference room,” Caitlin told her. “I know they'll be anxious to hear the details. "Anxious,” Beryla repeated, craving only the sight of the man she loved and hadn't seen in six years. There was no doubt in her mind that it had been deliberate on his part that he had not come to greet her when she and the others came on board, wanting her to concentrate completely on helping Cree.

The elevator couldn't move quickly enough to take them up to the bridge deck where Caitlin told her the conference room was. She was shifting nervously from foot to foot, dipping her knees like a little girl in need of peeing as she glared at the deck number readout. When the doors opened, sheknew he would be there waiting. And he was. Beryla flung herself into Lares’ arms and their lips met like suction cups. Her legs went around his sturdy waist, her arms clamped around his brawny shoulders. "He was wearing a hole in the floor with his pacing,” Khiershon told his lady as she entered the conference room. "She was about to drill a hole in the elevator cave floor,” Caitlin replied. Tylan and Raine were already seated at the long table along with the other eleven Reapers, Iyan McGregor, Elena Vargas, and Akkadia Kahmal. Khiershon escorted his lady to her seat then sat down beside her. No one spoke but everyone could hear the noises coming from the corridor. Ten minutes passed as the noises died down to a low mumble. "Get a room, guys, or join us,” Tylan finally called out. “It's your choice." Husband and wife entered the room, straightening their clothing, Beryla's face flushed, and Lares grinning broadly from ear to ear. He led his wife to an empty chair and waited until she was seated before pulling his chair as close to hers as he could get it and seating himself, reaching for her hand. "How's our boy doing?” Tylan asked. He was sitting with his elbows on the arms of his chair, his fingertips pressed together under his chin. "He came through the procedure extremely well, but I would prefer he not be awakened for at least twenty-four hours,” Beryla said. “That will give his parasite plenty of time to heal him." "But he'll be good as new?” Raine wanted clarified. "I would venture to say better for he will most likely no longer have the migraines,” Beryla said. Her gaze swept over the eleven Reapers and she smiled. “I am hoping none of you will when we remove the implants." "That would be a great benefit,” Khiershon spoke for them all. "We haven't contacted Bridie, yet,” Tylan said. “We wanted to wait until we knew everything was going to be okay." "Understandable,” Beryla agreed. “Did Ro-Ro give you the coordinates of her cabin up in the Black Hills?" Tylan sighed deeply. “Aye, she did and that is something we need to talk about." Beryla saw the frowns that suddenly slipped over the faces of those gathered at the table. “Has something happened?"

"I'm afraid so,” Tylan answered. **** Bridget had been as astounded by her son's question to Viraidan Cree as she was by the Reaper's reaction to it. "How much do you know of us, young one?” Cree asked. Jaelin swept his eyes toward his mother. “I guess I know just about everything,” he replied. “I know you are shape shifters and that you have to have blood and some kind of drug in order to exist." Cree motioned the boy to a rocking chair and the two of them took a seat. “It's a bit more complicated than that,” he told Jaelin, “but basically you get the concept. The blood we call Sustenance and the drug is called tenerse." "I thought it was Triso,” Jaelin said. Bridget let out a wavering breath. “Who told you about this, Jaelin?" Jaelin shrugged. “One of the Keepers told me." "Who?” Bridget demanded. "Don't get mad at him, Ma. I saw you start taking a shot every day and even though you told me you had developed diabetes, I didn't buy it. I never saw you checking your blood sugar levels so I knew it wasn't insulin you were taking.” He ducked his head. “I thought you were getting into some kind of illegal stuff to help you live with Dad being in prison. I was so worried about you that I had to have someone to talk to. I knew Aunt Beryla or Aunt Ro-Ro wouldn't tell me. They would think I wasn't old enough to handle it so I asked Pete Michaels." "I'm going to pulverize that little twerp,” Bridget swore. "The boy was concerned, Bridget,” Cree said. “Better he know his mother is a Reaper than to think she is a drug addict." "When you would go off on one of your trips, I thought you might be going to rehab,” he said. “Pete said you went to some place where you could Transition." "What did you think about that, Jaelin?” Cree asked. Jaelin grinned. “I thought it way cool,” he said. “My mom the lycanthrope!" Bridget groaned and buried her red face in her hands. "It didn't frighten you?” Cree probed. "Heck, no!” Jaelin said. “I figured one day I'd get all furry, too, and I couldn't wait.” His eyebrows shot up. “Is that why you keep asking me weird questions about how I feel, Ma? Am I gonna get all furry when I start getting hair down there?" Cree laughed and gave his wife a shake of the head.

Bridget's face turned redder still. “Did Pete tell you where your father really is?” she queried. Jaelin shook his head. “He wouldn't tell me, but he did say Dad really was a prisoner and that friends of his had gone after him." "Did this Keeper tell you your father came from another galaxy?” Cree inquired. The boy's mouth dropped open. He looked at his mother. “No, sir! Is that true, Ma?" Bridget nodded, unable to answer. "Cool!” Jaelin pronounced. “Way cool!" "Where did you think Reapers came from, Jaelin?” Bronwyn asked. "Well, I just thought it was like Transylvania or Germany or some place like that. Isn't that where werewolves are supposed to come from?” the boy questioned. Cree smiled. “I came from Chale and your father from Rysalia. Those worlds are in a galaxy called Domhan, many millions of light years from Terra." "I think we should leave Bridget and Jaelin alone to discuss how she came to know his father,” Bronwyn told her husband. Cree's smile slipped away. “Aye, but there is the other thing, Bronnie. We...." "We can discuss it tomorrow,” Bronwyn stated, getting up from the swing. She turned and looked down at Bridget. “Discuss everything with your son, Bridie.” Her brow furrowed. “Everything." "We'll come back over tomorrow,” Cree told her. “Plans need to be made." Bridget nodded and sat there in the swing as her visitors left the porch and then melded into the darkness that had now settled over them, the sun having slipped behind the mountains. "What plans, Ma?” Jaelin asked. Bridget patted the seat beside her on the swing and her son came over, sliding under the arm she held out to drape around his shoulders. "You know about the troubles in the Middle East,” Bridget said. "That fanatic everyone's talking about?” Jaelin asked. “The man with the blue hat?" "Blue turban and yes, that's the one,” she said. “Apparently things are really starting to heat up and the Crees...” She smiled. “Theother Crees are concerned that we are on the brink of a nuclear war." "That's their name, too?” he asked, his young face bright. "Apparently so but I don't think he's any kin to your father."

"But you don't know,” Jaelin said, hope flooding his voice. "No, sweetie, I don't know.” She hugged her son to her. “But I guess we need to talk about this then go in and call Aunt Beryla. Viraidan believes we should all get together here. He and Bronwyn have a fortress they have constructed beneath the ground. We would be able to live there until we could come back up." Jaelin threaded his fingers together with his mother's. “I agree,” he said then sighed deeply. "What is it, baby?” Bridget asked, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. "I guess the barbeque on Saturday night is outta the question, huh?"

Chapter Thirty-One Dorrie was at his bedside when he awoke. She smiled at him and tightened her grip on his hand. “Hey there, big boy,” she greeted him. "You look tired,” he said. "It's not tiredness, darling,” Dorrie said. “It's fear." The Reaper's brow creased. “Fear of what?" "Tylan Kahn has been chomping at the bit to talk to you, unable to bear waiting until you were awake but Beryla insisted. He's out in the corridor pacing like a caged...." "Is Bridget all right?” he interrupted her, struggling to sit up but she put a hand to his chest and pushed him back down. "Your lady is fine. She is in the hills of South Dakota and out of harm's way for now." "For now?” he asked, his heart racing. “What do you mean for now? What's going on, Dorrie?" "Terra is about to be destroyed,” Tylan said. He came into the room, waving aside Dorrie's objection. "Destroyed how?” Cree asked. He pushed away Dorrie's hand and sat up. "He shouldn't be doing this yet,” Dorrie snapped. “I'm going to tell Beryla!” She got up and hurried out. "Nobody likes a tattletale, Burkhart!” Tylan threw after her. "Tylan, tell me!” Cree said. He ran a trembling hand over his face. "Do you remember that imam named Perse Abdul-Qahhar, the religious fanatic in the Middle East? He was making war noises before you were captured by Akkadia." "What of him?" "While we've been gone, his organization called Mansur has been responsible for numerous brutal

terrorist attacks all over the world. Tens of thousands of people have been slaughtered by that radical group. Now he is gearing up to unleash several nuclear missiles on the United Stares and China simultaneously within the next few weeks." "How the hell do you know that?” Cree asked. "While you were being operated on, we got a transmission from the gods only know where giving us all the data,” Tylan told him. “We watched the story enfolding on the vid-com screen and knew we were seeing something from the future. Paegan had been following the Terran news broadcasts and we knew about Abdul-Qahhar. When we got that transmission and saw all the other stuff that's coming, we just about shit our pants." "What other stuff?" "There will be worldwide earthquakes, massive tsunamis, a buckling of the earth's crust the likes of which this world has never seen,” Tylan explained. “Land masses will shift, mountains will crumble, and volcanoes will erupt both above and under the sea. Whole sections of land will disappear beneath the waters and the fallout from the bombs will destroy all vegetation on this world for generations to come. A nuclear winter will set in and most of the life on Terra will be extinguished." "Oh, my god,” Cree whispered. "When the transmission ended, a woman's face appeared on the screen. She said we were to gather all those we love, that we care about and transport them up to the ship before the end of next week. We are to bring on board extra supplies of food and water—as much as we can—and break orbit to head back toward the wormhole." "But the wormhole was collapsed,” Cree reminded him. “This could be a trap, Tylan. She could be setting us up." "She said to tell you that you would remember her. She said her name is Morrigunia." Cree's face paled. “That was the name of the goddess who helped us." "Then I think we can trust her, don't you?" "It would seem so,” Cree said. He lifted his legs and swung them off the side of the bed. “I have to go to my lady." "We've already brought up all the Keepers and Hunters and their loved ones living on Terra. Bridie and Jaelin are the last of ours down there. Khiershon and his crew are seeing to the supplies and Caitlin, Beryla and the other women are helping by transporting up what medical things we'll need for a journey we don't know how long will last. Once we have your family with us, we'll boogie." "What of the people on Terra?” Cree asked. "There's nothing we can do there." "We could go after Abdul-Qahhar,” Cree stated. "We'd have to take out his entire organization, Kam, and they are all over the world. One bomb is in the

Middle East and the other is somewhere in South America.” He shook his head. “There is nothing we can do. The die has been cast, my friend. We knew it was coming. They knew it was coming. We just didn't know when." **** Bridget and Jaelin were packed and waiting for Viraidan to arrive at the log cabin. As they had assembled the things they did not want to leave behind—including the photograph of his father Jaelin was never without—they listened to the radio and the unsettling news of the building unrest in the Middle East. All the evening before, Bridie had tried to reach Beryla, Aurora, or any of the others but the phone lines were jammed and the calls never went through. Even the vid-com wasn't working, the increase in audio traffic, radar, and sonar the world over playing hell with its reception. "We'll have to drive to Georgia and bring them back. That's al there is to it,” Viraidan had suggested when he and Bronwyn came over early the next morning. “I can get my hands on a large tour bus big enough for everyone." "Felicity, her mate, and her daughter should be here from Florida in another day,” Bronwyn said, not wanting to ask where her husband would come by such a thing. “I should stay here." Viraidan had balked but his wife reminded him she would have Colton, Cedric, and Ordin Gver—who for some strange reason went by the nickname Ralph—for protection. "They've been taking food and water down into the fortress all night,” Bronwyn said. “I'd better go check on them." "Did they take their rocking chairs?” Viraidan asked and when his wife gave him a droll look, he grinned. “Forget I asked." He left to fetch the bus and Bronwyn gave Bridget a hug before heading back to the home she shared with Viraidan. That had been at nine o'clock and it was now close to noon but neither Bridget nor Jaelin were hungry. They could always stop once they were out of the road and headed east. When they heard the sound of the diesel engine coming along the driveway, they hurried outside. It was a huge thirty-eight feet long burgundy tour bus that could comfortably seat 30 people that pulled up in front of the cabin. When the doors shushed open and Cree stepped out, he was munching on what was left of a sub sandwich. "I've got two more in the bus along with chips and some sodas,” he told them. “Figured you'd be hungry.” He clamped the remaining sandwich between his teeth and took up one of Bridie's suitcases. "This is some rig,” Jaelin said. "It's not a LRC but it'll do." "I'm afraid I won't be able to spell you with this thing,” Bridie said. "Not a problem. I can drive anything on wheels." She thought of her husband. “I know a Reaper who can't,” she told him.

As though he hadn't heard her, he gave her their itinerary. “We'll go over Highway 20 to Sioux City, Iowa then down I-29 to Kansas City. We'll catch 64 to 75 and from there it's a straight shot on down to ‘Dosta,” he told them. Bridget looked at him. “'Dosta? You've been to Valdosta before?" He laughed. “Been there, done that, once had a bulldog t-shirt. I used to live down there in another life,” he said as he started piling their things into the luggage compartment. Intrigued by his statement, she looked around to make sure everything had been taken on the bus. “Jae, get on the bus, sweetie. I'll lock up and we'll get going." "Yes, ma'am,” her son replied. He ran up the steps and picked a seat, pulling the ever-present game player from the pocket of his hoodie. Viraidan asked Bridget if she had remembered to turn everything off and lock the backdoor. When she said she had, he stood waiting for her beside the bus. Bridget stopped on the walkway and looked out over the breathtaking view. Her heart grew sad. “It grieves me that this will all be destroyed,” she said, tears filling her eyes. The Reaper sensed her sorrow and walked over to her. He put a hand up to cup her cheek. “Life goes on, Bridie,” he says. “The beauty will return to this land one day." She hung her head. “I know.” Her shoulders shook and she felt his arms go around her clumsily. "It's all right, milady,” he said. “Everything will be all right." "Not if you don't take your hands off my woman it won't." The voice had come out of nowhere and Viraidan had jumped, springing back like the warrior he was, his hand going to his hip only to find no blade strapped there. Through the tears streaming down her cheeks, Bridget lifted her head and looked right into the blazing eyes of her beloved husband. Her heart skipped a beat and she dragged in a ragged, stunned breath, staggering beneath the weight of her shock. An enraged Kamerone Cree was standing with his fists clenched, his legs apart, his nostrils flaring as he glared at the other Reaper. “Get the hell away from my woman,” he hissed. Viraidan backed up, putting both hands up. “I wasn't poaching,dearthaír ,” he said, taking another step back. He recognized lethal fury when it was aimed at him. "I'm not your gods-be-damned brother!” Kamerone threw at him. He took a step closer. "Kamerone,” Bridget said, knowing full well her husband was about to attack. “Viraidan is a friend. His wife is..." "Right behind you."

Kamerone's head snapped around and he saw a very lovely woman standing beside what had to be the ugliest creature he had ever seen. Uglier than a Saurian—and that was saying a lot—the beast was growling at him and glaring at him with piercing eyes that promised death but brutal mutilation first. "It's all right, Ralph,” Viraidan said. “He just misunderstood my holding his lady." The Bugul Noz growled deeply and savagely, its black muzzle wrinkled dangerously and it took a step closer to Kamerone. Three other men stood beside the woman. One looked to be in his late forties—and appeared to be laughing—one was in his sixties, while the other looked even older though his eyes sparkled like those of a man in the prime of his life. "With three Reapers—including a female whose temper is worse than either Aidan's or mine—a Bugul Noz, a Nightwind and a Reaper's son more than willing to stomp on your ass if you lay one hand to our man, I suggest you stand down, boy,” the younger of the three men said in a soft Chalean brogue. He grinned. “I'm Brian, by the way." Jaelin was riveted to his seat. He alone had seen the flash of silver that had crept silently over the cabin and had looked up thinking it was a cloud that had suddenly shaded the large structure. When he'd realized it was a gigantic craft of some kind, he'd lost all ability to speak, staring up through the window at the soundless glide of the ship as it hovered over the cabin. He'd nearly fainted when he saw the man materialize out of thin air. When he realized who the man was, he finally found the ability to get up out of his seat and hurry to the door of the bus. Just as he arrived, he saw the other men suddenly appearing in a semi-circle around the man he knew was his father. But it was when the two strange looking robots popped out of nowhere to position themselves to either side of Kamerone Cree, Jaelin found his voice. "Whoa!” was all the boy could say. "I think twelve Reapers, ten warriors, and two ‘bots trump your three Reapers, one Reaper son, one Bugul Noz and a paltry Nightwind,” Tylan Kahn said, folding his arms over his chest. "Thirteen Reapers,” a cute young woman said as she appeared beside him. She filled out her black uniform quite well and drew Jaelin's immediate attention. "Rad. I. Cul,” Jaelin said with a whistle. "Not to mention the seven Amazeen who are all having PMS right now,” Akkadia Kahmal added as she and her crew materialized. Viraidan was glaring at the Amazeen Major in her gray uniform and a low growl came from his throat. "That's the bitch who captured my husband,” Bridget said and started forward only to find her way blocked by Viraidan Cree. "Let me handle this,” Cree said. "Unless you want me to tear your guts out and stuff them up your thieving ass, you'd best move away from my wife,” Kamerone warned. "Kamerone! Shame on you!” Bridget exclaimed. She pushed Viraidan aside and rushed to her husband,

coming up short as she got almost toe to toe to him. Her eyes roamed over his face. “Are you all right?" "I'm fucking pissed, Bridget,” he said, glancing past her to the other Reaper, his hackles bristling, nostrils quivering, eyes glinting a dark crimson color. “I come home from hell to find you in the arms of another man and...." "He's a friend,” she said and put a trembling hand up to his cheek. “A friend, Kam." "He's a gods-be-damned Reaper!” Kamerone said then sniffed, his eyes going wide. Shock entered his hard gaze. “And so are you!" "It was one of your fledglings!” she was quick to tell him, horrified he would think the revenant worm had come from Viraidan. “There's nothing between me and Viraidan. He is just a friend who was comforting me." Kamerone's eyes flicked down to hers. “I'm the only man who will ever comfort you, Bridget Cree!” he snarled and snaked out a hand to capture her waist, dragging her to him. Bridget melted against him. "'Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon',” one of the robots said, drawing Jaelin's attention away from his parents. "'The happiest day—the happiest hour mine eyes shall see—have ever seen',” the other robot said on a long sigh. It was to hardy applause that Kamerone Cree's lips slanted over his wife's and he held her so tightly to him not even a wisp of smoke could have gotten between them. His hands were all over her back, her bottom, her shoulders, cupping her cheeks, running over her hair as she clung to him, her fingers buried in the black silk of his shirt. "Isn't this where you tell him to get a room, Kahn?” Lares Taborn quipped. No one else existed for Kamerone and Bridget. He bent his knees, swept his arm under her knees, and lifted her high against him. He turned and headed straight toward the cabin, taking the steps onto the porch two at a time. He strode to the front door, lifted his leg, and kicked a booted foot hard against the panel. The door popped open and banged against wall. Aurora groaned and hung her head, her hands on her hips. "Way to go, Dad,” Jaelin said, laughing. It was Khiershon Cree who walked over to Viraidan and ordered his hand. “I am Khiershon, son of the Prime." "Viraidan,” the other Reaper responded. “I, too, was a Prime in my day.” He looked up at the enormous craft hovering overhead. “That's the best thing I've seen in years." "We're loaded to the gills with supplies,” Khiershon said, “but we've room for you and yours. I believe you know why we'll be cutting out of here as quickly as possible."

Viraidan nodded. “We're expecting three more of our friends who will be here tomorrow but I imagine Cedric can home in on them on the interstate and we can bring them up to the ship if that's all right with your father." "He's too absorbed at the moment to make any command decisions,” Khiershon said with a chuckle. “I'll speak for him. If you and yours will go on up to the ship, we can transport what you have here that you want to take with you then go after your friends." "We've supplies in an underground fortress near hear,” Viraidan said. "The more, the merrier,” Khiershon agreed. “We'll just pluck ‘em up." "Rocking chairs,” the ugliest creature Khiershon had ever encountered piped up. “We want our rocking chairs." "And those rocking chairs, Khier,” Aurora said, pointing to the chairs on the porch. "And the swing,” Jaelin said. “Ma loves the swing." "Consider it done,” Khiershon said. “Let's get moving, everyone. We may be awhile waiting on the Prime." Jaelin watched as one by one the people who had appeared on the grass disappeared just as quickly until he was left standing beside only his Aunt Beryla. "Well, Jae,” she said, hooking an arm around his shoulders. “You ready to scoot?" "What about Ma and Dad?” Jaelin asked. "Well, if I know Tylan, he'll transport that entire bedroom I'm sure they are in up to the image deck and we'll be out of here before your little brother can be conceived." Jaelin's face turned red. “Ah, Aunt Beryla!” he moaned. **** Neither Bridget nor Kamerone felt the slight bump as—Beryla had predicted—the entire bedroom of the log cabin settled on the floor of the image deck. He had carried her unerringly to the bedroom and had fallen with her atop the king size bed. They were writhing atop the silken coverlet as the bedroom began to dematerialize on Terra and reappear on the Ailith . One leather clad thigh thrust between hers, his weight upon her smaller body, he had yet to release her lips from his searing kiss. His left hand was tucked beneath her rump, his right hand roaming possessively over her breasts, finding the front of her blouse and ripping it open, his palm eager to touch the soft, warm flesh that beckoned. With only a wisp of lacy fabric between him and what he desired, the Reaper made quick work of it, his fingers sliding to the straining nipple that awaited his touch. Groaning low in his throat, he shifted his weight but never once allowed her mouth to leave his. He was frantically trying to push one boot off with the toe of the other. Her hand was between them, rubbing at his swollen cock, her breath as ragged in his ears as his own. Thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth he

heard her sneaker hit the floor then felt her sock-clad foot running down his leg. The sensation turned the groan to a growl and he sprang off her. Bridget's eyes went wide as he left her. She was dragging heated breaths into her lungs and so on fire with need she thought she might well set the sheets ablaze. Her queen was buckling under the flesh of her back—like calling to like—and she knew his was goading him, as well. "Kam...” she said then stopped as his hands went to the front of his shirt and he ripped it apart, shrugging out of it then fumbling at the buckle of his belt, ripping that aside, tearing it off him, pitching it aside as he dragged the zipper down his fly. "I ... love ... you,” he said, hopping on one foot to yank off his boot. "I love you, too,” she said, moistening her lips for he was jutting from the open V of his uniform pants and she thought she'd never seen him so large or so long. Intercepting that wayward thought, he threw his head back and yowled, kicking off the other boot only to have it fly across the room and land on top of the dresser. He peeled the leather pants down, kicked them off, as well, and then threw himself on his woman, his hands ripping madly at the fly of her jeans. Never had she been so aroused or so wet for the man she loved. His need, his speed, his very intensity were doing things to her libido she had never experienced before. Her breasts were throbbing, her nipples tingling and when he jerked off her jeans, her panties, she scooted further up in the bed and opened her arms to him. Kamerone looked down at the white slouch socks she was wearing and an evil grin crooked up the side of his mouth. He reached for her leg, lifted her foot, and dragged the socks off with his teeth. Before she could let out the gasp that made her shudder, he had her toes in his mouth, suckling them. "Oh, my god,” she whispered, her thighs quivering. He wanted to taste every inch of her. He wanted to take his time and put his hand on her. He wanted to rub against her until their scents were mingled. She was his and he wanted her to know just how much he had missed her. But Bridget needed him sooner than that. She reached out, grabbed his arms, and pulled him down to her, splaying her legs wide before clamping them around his waist, imprisoning him. She wanted him in her. She wanted to feel that delicious length, that wonderful heat, the width and breadth of him inside her. She wanted to feel her man, her mate, her husband as the gods intended them to be. "Bridget, I wanted to go slowly,” he complained as he found her nipple and wrapped his lips around it. "There is time,” she said and she felt his nod as he suckled her. "Aye,” he mumbled against her breast. “There is time." Epilogue In the Terran year of 2062, Bridget Dunne Cree, and two hundred and twelve other humanoids soared away from the blue-green planet of Terra. As the great StarRaider shot past the Terran moon to follow a set of coordinates that had mysteriously appeared on its navigator's screen, the ship's archivist was entering the names of the passengers into the onboard computer. The partial roster read as follows:

Admiral Tylan Kahn, formerly of theVortex Captain Kamerone Cree, Reaper Captain Khiershon Cree, Reaper Captain Viraidan Cree, Reaper Captain Iyan McGregor, formerly of theDarkWind Captain Taegin Kullen, Reaper Captain Rylan Cree, Reaper Captain Braiden Cree, Reaper Captain Elena Vargas, formerly of thePantera Healer Bridget Dunne Cree, Reaper Healer Caitlin Kelly Cree, formerly of theOrion Dr. Brian O'Shae, Reaper Prince Lares Taborn, formerly of theVortex Prince Raine McGregor, formerly of theVortex Princess Raphaella Constantine, Amazeen Commander Tealson Hesar, Reaper Commander Toryn Belial, Reaper Commander Corydon Cree, Reaper Major Akkadia Kahmal, formerly of theAlluvia Lieutenant Commander Killian Kiel, Reaper Lieutenant Commander Comyn Coure, Reaper Lieutenant Commander Eachan Gehdrin, Reaper Lieutenant Commander Kaelan Cree, Reaper Lieutenant Alexi Noll, formerly of theVortex Lieutenant Lin Dixon, formerly of theOrion

Lieutenant Roy Matheny, formerly of theOrion Lieutenant Dakin Hesar, formerly of theVortex Lieutenant Nyndham Dax, formerly of theDarkWind Lieutenant Sinjin Wynth, formerly of theDarkWind Lieutenant Helen Bryan, formerly of theOrion Lieutenant Patricia Rasey, formerly of theOrion Lieutenant Martha Holloway, formerly of theOrion Lieutenant Cathy Atherton, formerly of theOrion Lieutenant Renata Aegean, formerly of theAlluvia Lieutenant Cirolia Sern, formerly of theAlluvia Lieutenant Augenia Deon, formerly of theAlluvia Lieutenant Malankhoia Chanz, formerly of theAlluvia Lieutenant Cedilla Sern, formerly of theAlluvia Ensign Hern Belvoir, formerly of theVortex Ensign André Arbra, formerly of theVortex Ensign Paegan Thorne, formerly of theVortex Ensign Thommy Loure, formerly of theOrion Ensign Cadyna Wynth, former NavOff of theAilith Keeper Pete Michaels, formerly of FSK-14 Keeper Lin Charles, formerly of FSK-14 Hunter Evan March, formerly of FSK-14 MedTech Dorrie Burkhart, Terran MedTech Barbara Fuller, formerly of theOrion MedTech Lisa Mahon, formerly of theOrion Maeve Lynn McGregor, Serenian Danielle Conway, Reaper

Ordin Gver, Bugul Noz Cedric, Nightwind Cress, Nightwind Felicity Fowler, Witch Nora Fowler, child of Felicity and the Nightwind Cress Colton Cree, son of Viraidan Cree Jaelin Cree, son of Kamerone Cree One Class Four cybot: Troilus One Class Five cybot: Raven One aged weretiger: Ceatie **** "Where in the megaverse is this place?” Iyan asked Khiershon. “I've never heard of it." "What's the name of it again?” Viraidan inquired over Iyan's shoulder. He was staring at the navigational screen. "Domhan na Gaoithe,” Iyan replied. "WindWorld?” Kamerone queried from across the bridge. The hellion in his back writhed but the motion wasn't painful. "Did you feel that?” Khiershon asked his father. He shifted his shoulders. "Aye,” Kamerone answered. "As did I,” Viraidan told them. "Wherever it is we're going, I think our hellions approve,” Khiershon said. With a suddenness that left them all stunned, brightness flashed around them in trickling sparkles of multicolored light that made them throw up their arms to ward off the intensity, their senses reeled, and they felt as though they were soaring through space at an alarming rate. When the light faded away, they found themselves standing along with the rest of the passengers from theAilith in a verdant greensward with rolling hills behind them and crashing ocean before. Gulls flew overhead, banking toward the turquoise waters of the ocean. "What the hell happened?” Iyan asked. "Where the hell are we?” Kamerone countered.

A soft breeze wafted over them from the sea. "Look at that,” Caitlin said pointing. There upon the rolling hills were fields of wheat from which the Healers among them would be able to brew the tenerse that would keep the Reapers Transitioning on schedule. Vast varieties of animals roamed over the fields beyond where crimson clover studded the lush grasses and the faint scent of jasmine filled the air. A huge plot of land looked as though it had been cultivated and even from a distance the new arrivals could see vegetables of myriad varieties and fruit trees heavily laden. "Is this heaven?” Jaelin asked. "Well, it ain't Iowa,” Bridget answered her son. "And here comes the welcome wagon,” Beryla commented out of the side of her mouth. The two people who came over the rise of the nearest hill paused hand in hand as they looked down at them. The man's hair was dark and curly, tousled by the stiff breeze. The woman's hair was as white as snow and hung down her back to the bottom of her rump. Behind them two young boys appeared, each as dark as the father. "Reapers,” Kamerone stated. "Aye,” Viraidan agreed. No one moved as the couple started down the hill, the boys waiting at the top. "They don't look surprised to see us,” Bridget said softly. "She's smiling but he looks a bit wary,” Aurora commented. It was the two eldest—the Primes—who moved away from their people and met the couple. Walking side by side, Kamerone and Viraidan were very imposing and no one breathed easily until the saw their Reapers shaking hands with the couple. "I am Leksi Helios and this is my lady-wife, Kynthia,” the tall man with the sparkling amber eyes greeted the Reapers from theAilith . "You don't look surprised to see us,” Kamerone said, echoing his wife's sentiments. Leksi smiled. “She told us you were coming and we've been preparing for your arrival.” He swept a hand behind him. “Over the hill is the settlement She created for you. Our library has been extended and overnight a medical facility appeared." "She does things like that all the time,” Kynthia said. "She does it to appease my lady-wife,” Leksi declared on a long sigh. "Who is she?” Viraidan queried. "Morrigunia,” Kynthia replied.

"The goddess who aided me on Rysalia Prime,” Kamerone said, annoyed. “Remember I told you of Her, Aidan." "You told me a lot of things, Kam,” Viraidan grumbled. “I listened to only half of it." "This should be fun,” Kynthia laughed. "We are pleased you have come to keep us company in our pleasant island prison,” Leksi stated. "Prison?” Kamerone repeated, stiffening. "Leksi is exaggerating. It is more like a playground,” Kynthia told him. “A playground for Reapers where She keeps us safe and as happy as She can." "You are home,dearthaír, ” Leksi said. “Home where I strongly suspect it all began for us." "Or will,"came a soft whisper on the wind. The End

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