reached their destination. And where would that be? he wondered.
Wearily, he leaned against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could put Moriah out on the planet, and that would solve the problem of her knowing too much. Of course, it would also be her death warrant. Too much was at stake for a colony of Shielders to allow an outsider to know their location and live to tell about it. Technically, he himself was obligated to shut her up permanently, but he had no stomach for killing innocents.
Ugly images reared in his mind: Screaming Shielder children, fleeing for their lives, while their parents, waging a futile stand against hordes of Anteks, were cut down like morini grass.
He shook his head to force the images away, but newer ones took their place: Graves. Growing in number daily. He'd seen the profusion of new burial sites at the Shielder colony today. According to the colonists, the virus engineered by the Controllers was no idle rumor, but a very real threat. Called Orana, it was rapidly spreading among Shielder settlements. Highly contagious, it was devastating and merciless.
All the more reason that he deal with Moriah as quickly as possible. He needed to start checking with other colonies and to see if anyone had formulated an antidote to the deadly Orana. Unfortunately, he couldn't just turn her loose. If only there were some way he could turn back time, undo what she had seen.
He froze halfway to his cabin as the answer torpedoed him. Undo what she had seen—of course! All he had to do was have part of her memory erased. A skilled healer could do that with a hypno-trance procedure. And he knew just the healer—Darya, on Elysia.
Unfortunately, Elysia was four ship cycles away, even with hyperspace. Then they would be there a cycle while the procedure was performed. All of which meant he would be out five ship cycles and Spirit knew how much revenue. Not to mention losing Galen's trail. And, more importantly, the time lost finding a way to deal with the Orana virus. His situation was getting worse by the millisecond. Muttering a curse, Sabin retrieved a clean flightsuit from his cabin. As soon as he had Moriah safely in the brig, he would take off, and set the ship's coordinates for Elysia.
He was waiting in the corridor when she emerged from the cabin, wearing the flightsuit he'd left on her bunk. She was almost as tall as him, but his flightsuit hung on her smaller frame. She'd rolled the sleeves and the pant legs up, and the loose fabric managed to drape provocatively across her breasts. Her coppery hair, still damp, fell in glorious waves down her back. Sabin wondered fleetingly if he could order her to keep it down at all times.
She walked toward him slowly, her eyes wary. For the first time, he noticed the dark circles beneath them, the hollows of her cheeks. He realized she must be exhausted and hungry. He'd seen no evidence she'd had any food with her, and she'd been on his ship four cycles. Okay, so he would put her in the brig and then fix her something to eat after he took off for Elysia.
He stepped aside, gesturing for her to go ahead of him, alert to any false move on her part. "Go to the next panel down," he instructed. After a barely perceptible pause, she complied. "Get inside," he ordered when they reached the open entry. She stepped in and turned, her expression an odd blend of defiance and uncertainty. As far as she knew, her life hung in the balance, yet she held herself proudly and with admirable poise.
He pressed the outside pad to activate the brig force field. Nothing. He punched the pad again. No hum indicating the presence of a charged field. Blazing hells. The field had been working a few cycles ago. What more could go wrong on this damnable ship before he got his new one? Clenching his hands into fists, he resisted the urge to kick the wall. Moriah raised her brows questioningly. Sabin gritted out, "Cursed panel won't work."
He didn't see the sense in telling
Wearily, he leaned against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could put Moriah out on the planet, and that would solve the problem of her knowing too much. Of course, it would also be her death warrant. Too much was at stake for a colony of Shielders to allow an outsider to know their location and live to tell about it. Technically, he himself was obligated to shut her up permanently, but he had no stomach for killing innocents.
Ugly images reared in his mind: Screaming Shielder children, fleeing for their lives, while their parents, waging a futile stand against hordes of Anteks, were cut down like morini grass.
He shook his head to force the images away, but newer ones took their place: Graves. Growing in number daily. He'd seen the profusion of new burial sites at the Shielder colony today. According to the colonists, the virus engineered by the Controllers was no idle rumor, but a very real threat. Called Orana, it was rapidly spreading among Shielder settlements. Highly contagious, it was devastating and merciless.
All the more reason that he deal with Moriah as quickly as possible. He needed to start checking with other colonies and to see if anyone had formulated an antidote to the deadly Orana. Unfortunately, he couldn't just turn her loose. If only there were some way he could turn back time, undo what she had seen.
He froze halfway to his cabin as the answer torpedoed him. Undo what she had seen—of course! All he had to do was have part of her memory erased. A skilled healer could do that with a hypno-trance procedure. And he knew just the healer—Darya, on Elysia.
Unfortunately, Elysia was four ship cycles away, even with hyperspace. Then they would be there a cycle while the procedure was performed. All of which meant he would be out five ship cycles and Spirit knew how much revenue. Not to mention losing Galen's trail. And, more importantly, the time lost finding a way to deal with the Orana virus. His situation was getting worse by the millisecond. Muttering a curse, Sabin retrieved a clean flightsuit from his cabin. As soon as he had Moriah safely in the brig, he would take off, and set the ship's coordinates for Elysia.
He was waiting in the corridor when she emerged from the cabin, wearing the flightsuit he'd left on her bunk. She was almost as tall as him, but his flightsuit hung on her smaller frame. She'd rolled the sleeves and the pant legs up, and the loose fabric managed to drape provocatively across her breasts. Her coppery hair, still damp, fell in glorious waves down her back. Sabin wondered fleetingly if he could order her to keep it down at all times.
She walked toward him slowly, her eyes wary. For the first time, he noticed the dark circles beneath them, the hollows of her cheeks. He realized she must be exhausted and hungry. He'd seen no evidence she'd had any food with her, and she'd been on his ship four cycles. Okay, so he would put her in the brig and then fix her something to eat after he took off for Elysia.
He stepped aside, gesturing for her to go ahead of him, alert to any false move on her part. "Go to the next panel down," he instructed. After a barely perceptible pause, she complied. "Get inside," he ordered when they reached the open entry. She stepped in and turned, her expression an odd blend of defiance and uncertainty. As far as she knew, her life hung in the balance, yet she held herself proudly and with admirable poise.
He pressed the outside pad to activate the brig force field. Nothing. He punched the pad again. No hum indicating the presence of a charged field. Blazing hells. The field had been working a few cycles ago. What more could go wrong on this damnable ship before he got his new one? Clenching his hands into fists, he resisted the urge to kick the wall. Moriah raised her brows questioningly. Sabin gritted out, "Cursed panel won't work."
He didn't see the sense in telling
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