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  “I understand the Mistral brought back forty females on her last trip to Terra,” Cree said. He put his forearms on the counter top and leaned against it. He turned his head to look at Rhye. “That's very impressive. My compliments to your team.” Rhye smiled nervously. You never spoke to a Reaper unless he spoke to you first. To have Kamerone Cree open a conversation was thrilling, if not a tad uncomfortable.

  “Thank you, Sir,” Rhye said. “I will give Captain Kullen your regards.”

  “When do you go again?” Cree asked. He was ignoring the Bursar who was trying to gain his attention.

  Rhye didn't notice the coldness in his inquisitor's eyes or the lack of warmth in his polite query. He was eager to impress the man, wanted to be able to tell his shipmates that he had conversed with the Prime Reaper, himself.

  “We leave at the end of next week, Sir.” He stood up a bit straighter. “We are going to Ionary for a shipment of domestic females.”

  A twinkle entered Cree's brown eyes. “That's what I am here for today.” He looked away from the Commander and settled his sharp gaze on the Bursar. “I take it everything is in order?”

  The Bursar swallowed hard. “Sir, I think there's been a mistake.”

  Cree's brow lifted. “How so?”

  “This is a live-in companion chit, Sir,” the Bursar replied in a choked voice. His gaze pleaded with Cree to tell him there had been a mistake. Not only with the classification of the female requested, but the identity of her, as well.

  “Aye, I know that.”

  “Then perhaps there was a mix up in the names?” the Bursar asked hopefully. When the Reaper's fierce gaze remained steady, vengeful, the Bursar swung an apologetic gaze to the Commander.

  Rhye felt a wiggle of worry slither down his spine at the look the Bursar gave him.

  “No mistake has been made,” Cree stated. He turned his head and stared right at Rhye. “I came here personally to handle the matter since the female in question now belongs to me.”

  Konnor Rhye looked into those demon eyes and knew. “Who is the lady you have come to buy, Sir?” The Bursar moved back from the counter. The Keeper knew better than to question Kamerone Cree!

  “Do I know her, Captain?” Rhye insisted, feeling his insides tearing.

  Cree smirked at Rhye and turned his attention to the Bursar. “I asked you if everything was in order?”

  “Ah, Captain Cree,” the Bursar whined, feeling the hard, piercing cold of those dark orbs impaling him, “this particular female has already been purchased. She's…”

  “Then, un-purchase her,” Cree said pleasantly.

  The Bursar whimpered. He cast Rhye one last look and took up the Keeper's chit and ripped it down the middle.

  “No,” Rhye whispered. “I bought her! We are to be Joined.”

  Cree never straightened from where he leaned against the counter, didn't look at Rhye as he spoke. “You are dismissed, Commander.”

  “I have already bought her,” Rhye said again. “I have permission to take her to wife.”

  “Not any more you don't.” For one wild, undisciplined moment, Konnor Rhye thought about slamming his fist into that sneering, smug face. He made one last attempt to make the Reaper see reason.

  “Captain, we are in love. I know you don't understand what that means, but-”

  “If you do not dismiss yourself, Commander,” Cree interrupted, “you are going to spend the rest of your days incarcerated on a penal outpost in the nether regions of the galaxy.”

  Rhye knew it wouldn't do him any good to plead with this man. The Iceman had no heart. He would not understand the feelings Konnor and Bridget shared. “This isn't over.”

  “Aye, but it is,” Cree assured him, taking the Requisition form from the trembling hand of the Bursar.

  The Bursar winced as Commander Rhye spun around and rushed from the office. He glanced uncertainly at Captain Cree and found the Reaper smiling: A physical manifestation of pure revenge. As the Captain's eyes met him, the Bursar could have sworn the Iceman was actually enjoying himself.

  ****

  “WELL,” DREWE said, placing a packet of forms on Cree's desk, “you've got her. It's been entered into the Registry at the data bank. These are the print outs if you want to read them.” He let out a long breath through his pursed lips. “I hope you know what you're doing, Sir. She cost you a bundle.”

  “How much?” Cree asked as he folded an extra jumpsuit to take with him the next morning.

  “You're not going to like it.” In their many years of working together, Cree had heard that same six-word phrase so many times he fancied he sometimes heard it in his controlled sleep. He sighed. “Just tell me how much, Drewe.” Lona shrugged, knowing this would be one time that Cree wasn't going to be able to either sneer away or shout away the consequences of something that was going to upset him and upset him badly.

  “Nine pay periods of credit.”

  Cree went rigid as stone. Slowly, he straightened and turned to face Drewe. “Say again?”

  “Nine pay periods of credit.” Drewe watched the full realization set in on Cree's shocked face. He nodded. “Aye, you heard me correctly. That is why it took Rhye so long to purchase her. Even for you, with all your termination bonuses, that's a hell of a lot of money, Sir.”

  “Why didn't you tell me this before?” Cree demanded. Not that it made any difference. He would have paid anything to get what he wanted.

  “I tried to, but you weren't listening,” Drewe reminded him. “And the Bursar wanted me to make sure you understand that you won't be receiving any pay until the female is paid for out of your account. ” His face scrunched up. “You do have that much in your account, don't you?”

  Shock had turned Cree speechless. He sat down heavily on his bed.

  “Cree?” Drewe asked. “You do have that much, don't you?”

  The Reaper nodded absently. Nine pay periods? Three-quarters of a year's salary. Mentally, he calculated the amount in Terran funds, thinking it only right since it was a Terran he had bought.

  “Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” he muttered, glancing up at Drewe. “That's seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars!” He was shocked at the amount. “Why so much?”

  “I told you: she's a Class Five female.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Highly educated, highly trained medical personnel,” Drewe explained. “The only thing higher is a Class Six like the Director of the Be-Mod 9 Unit.”

  “Sweet Merciful Alel,” Cree whispered, missing the surprised look on his 2/IC's face.

  “I told the Bursar you would pick up the woman when we return from Terra.” Cree looked up, still reeling from the price. “Huh?”

  “The woman,” Drewe said. “You did mean for her to stay in her present quarters until you returned, didn't you?” The thought of Bridget free to continue seeing Konnor Rhye shot through Cree's brain like a laser blast. “Hell, no, I don't!” he snapped. “I want her here! In my quarters where she can't get into mischief!

  “I was afraid you would say that.”

  “See to it, Lona!”

  ****

  “HIS SECOND in command will be here any moment,” the Director said. She put a calming hand on Bridget's shoulder. “If you remember nothing else, Bridie, remember this: Under no circumstances will he ever hurt you. We made sure that prohibition was instilled irrevocably in his subliminals. He can no more do you harm that a cybot can harm its master. Do not forget that.” Bridget nodded. She looked down, her heart racing in her chest. She could not remember ever being this afraid of anything in her life. Not even when she had found herself aboard the Rysalian starship.

  “He will not harm you,” Dr. Dean stressed. She folded Bridget in her arms and held her, uneasy with the young woman's violent tremors. “Do you think we would send you to him if we thought there was a snowball's chance in Hell that he would hurt you, Bridie?”

  Bridget didn't reply because she knew to some of the women of the Resistan
ce, any means to gain their end might well be used.

  Up to and including sacrificing her life. Though she, herself, had formed an alliance with Konnor Rhye -and to some extent had feelings for the man-she had reluctantly accepted the Resistance's dictate of what now had become the plan to bring Kamerone Cree to their way of thinking. What was at stake here was more important than any possible future happiness with Rhye. She would do as had been suggested and bear the consequences.

  “Dr. Dean?” Ivonne announced over the Vid-Com. “Lieutenant Lona is here.”

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Bridget whispered, her eyes going wide with fear.

  “Bridget,” the Director said, sternly, pushing the young woman away. “You have to do this. There isn't time for us to put him in a position to be brought before the Tribunal again. It has to be now.”

  “I…know,” Bridget answered. She lifted a hand to her face. “It's just…”

  “Go,” Dr. Dean advised, “before you can think about it any further.” She pushed Bridget toward her office door.

  The women of the Behavioral Modification Unit were gathered around the reception desk as Bridget came out of the black double doors. A few were visibly nervous, casting sidelong glances at Drewe Lona, but most were resigned, their faces stoic, if not happy. Each knew the importance of what Bridget Dunne was about to do and, although they wished her well, not a one of them would have traded places with her for all the gold on Ionary.

  “You will come back and see us, won't you?” Ivonne asked, risking a worried look at Lona.

  “I would think the Captain will allow that, ” Lona said magnanimously. He had no doubt in his mind that the woman he was taking to Cree would be returned to Be-Mod Nine once the attraction wore off. He reached out and lightly took Bridget's arm.

  “Are you ready?”

  Bridget nodded, hating the feel of the Lieutenant's hand on her flesh. Already she felt imprisoned. Her freedom a thing of the past. Her future unknown. She didn't dare look at Dorrie, Helen, or Tina and especially not Ivonne, who sobbed openly.

  “You appear well-liked here,” Drewe said, escorting her through the opened door to the corridor beyond.

  “It has been my home for five years,” Bridget said quietly.

  “And probably will be again.”

  Bridget glanced at him. “This isn't permanent?”

  Drewe laughed. “I'd hardly think so.” He glanced her, thinking the young woman quite pretty. No wonder Cree found her intriguing.

  “You know him better than most. I hope you're right.”

  “Oh, he will be good to you.”

  “So I've been told.”

  “He will lose interest quickly, though,” Drewe prophesied, nodding.

  Bridget looked at him, a stunned look on her pretty face. Pray God, not too soon! At least not before she had accomplished what she had been sent to do! What would happen to her if she should fail?

  Drewe noticed the woman's sudden pallor; saw that she was trembling. By the gods! If he brought a hysterical female to Cree's quarters, the Reaper might lop off his head. Lona swallowed. “He certainly won't harm you and when he's through, I'm sure he'll return you to the Director.”

  “When he's through?” Bridget questioned, her voice quivering.

  “Well, you know,” he said lamely, flinging out a hand.

  “No,” Bridget denied. “I don't know.”

  Lona grimaced. Why was it left to him to explain things to this Terran female? He shrugged. “You know. When he's through with you. When he's…After he's…” He stopped. “Why don't you just wait and see, okay?” Bridget studied the Shepherd's profile for a long time, but when it became clear he would say nothing more, she looked at the long corridor down which they walked. When they arrived at the elevator, several Keepers and a Shepherd or two nodded politely at Lona and looked quizzically at Bridget.

  “This is the one?” one of the Keepers asked. Keepers were low in the hierarchy of Rysalian military. Glorified military police, their main job was to keep the females in line.

  “Aye,” Drewe acknowledged.

  “Not to my taste,” a Shepherd remarked. “Too thin.” His was the task of ‘herding’ the females to pre-arranged pickup spots during retrieval operations. Shepherds tended to be rather full of their own importance.

  “Too tall,” another Keeper decided.

  “I hear Rhye is…” another of the Keepers started to say, but Lona sent him a quelling look and the man coughed, pretended to find something extraordinary about the titanium wall beside him.

  “He is all right, isn't he?” Bridget questioned and had to repeat her question for Lona had pretended not to hear her.

  “Who?” Lona finally asked, though he knew well enough who she meant.

  “Commander Rhye,” she said softly.

  Drewe met the eyes of one of the Shepherds and the two men exchanged superior smiles. “Aye, as far as I know.” Bridget lowered her head. It would not do to let these warriors see how angry she was. Or how hopeless she felt. She walked ahead of Lona into the elevator and felt even more imprisoned as the other five warriors filed in and seemed to take up all the room in the cage.

  “Would it be permissible for me to render the captain my compliments when the time comes?” the oldest of the two Shepherds inquired.

  “I shall tell him, Wynth.”

  “My thanks, Lieutenant.”

  Bridget felt the Shepherd's eyes roaming down her, but refused to look at him. When the elevator stopped on E deck, the other five men got off, on their way to the chow hall, and the elevator door closed again.

  “What did he mean?” Bridget asked. “That Shepherd.”

  Drewe sighed. Did he have to explain everything to this female? He turned and looked down at her, a smug male look on his face. “He was telling me to make sure the Captain understands that when he tires of you, Wynth would appreciate the chance to bid on you if Cree does not mind.”

  Bridget stared at the Lieutenant. Over my dead body!

  Chapter 9

  AS THE door to his quarters slid open, Cree stood facing her: this woman he could not get out of his mind. He was not surprised to find her looking at him with wariness in her beautiful green eyes.

  Not the welcoming look he had hoped for or the tender look he found himself yearning for, but a look of unease tinged with animosity.

  “Where are her belongings?”

  “I ordered one of the Watchers to bring them over,” Lona replied. “She didn't have that much.” Bridget turned to glare at him. “You went through my things?”

  “I ordered him to do so,” Cree informed her and when she swung her angry attention to him, he winced at the command in his tone. He hadn't meant to sound so military or demanding. He had wanted to put her at ease, but instead, he had offended her. He tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. He looked at Lona and found him staring at the floor.

  “Is there anything else, Captain?” Lona asked.

  “No,” Cree answered. He shifted, feeling sweat running down his back and could not imagine why he felt so nervous or why his heart seemed to be beating so fast in his chest, he could hear the sound in his ears.

  “Go on, Drewe,” ordered Cree. “Make sure I am not disturbed this evening.” Drewe grinned, nodded, and after casting one last look at the Captain's concubine, took his leave.

  “Captain Cree?” the Vid-Com chimed on. “Would you like something to calm you, Sir?” Bridget almost felt sorry for him as the red stain of embarrassment tinged the Reaper's face; but his harsh denial of the computer's offer and his rigidly held posture made her remember who and what he was and why she was there. She lowered her head and waited for him to speak.

  Cree felt like pulling the intercom unit out of the wall, stripping it of its wires and stomping it to dust. If it had been physically possible to do so, he would have grabbed the interfering, interrupting feminine smirk of a voice by its electronic throat and squeezed until there was no artificial li
fe left in it. The gods -be-damned thing had to have been reprogrammed by one of the Resistance and he made a mental note to have an Electronic Tech check it over first thing the next morning. But the damage had already been done: it had irritated him and he took his irritation out on Bridget.

  “You know I bought you,” he blurted and could have bitten off his tongue when she looked up at him with annoyance.

  “I was informed this morning that you had,” she answered. “I understand I had no say in the matter.” There was bitterness in her soft voice.

  At a loss for anything soothing to say to her, he said what he hoped she wanted to hear. “I will be good to you,” he stated. “I have no intention of abusing you.”

  Bridget lifted her head and locked her gaze with his. “Since I will be completely at your mercy, Captain Cree, and I know you to be a man of your word, I will be grateful for any kindness you choose to show me.” This was not going as he had planned, Cree thought as he watched the disinterest linger in her pretty eyes. He had hoped she would be pleased that he had freed her from the Behavioral Mod Unit. Something had told him she did not like being a party to the torture of those admitted there for therapy.

  “Your duties will be to see to my comfort,” he said and saw her wince. He hurried on with what he would expect from her. “To cook, clean, and maintain my personal belongings.” He swept an arm around the room. “As you can see, I do not like cleaning.” She looked around her with the same disinterest then nodded her understanding of his demands.

  “I will be leaving tomorrow morning…”

  “You are returning to Earth?” she inquired, showing the first interest since her arrival.

  He let it pass that she had dared to interrupt him and had spoken without permission. He wanted to put her at ease so he made an effort to keep the annoyance out of his voice when he answered.

  “The United States.” Bridget's face crinkled and she looked away from him. Any mention of home never failed to make her bitterly regret where she was.