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  “I wish for the son what I have set in motion for the father!”

  Kamerone.

  The name invoked a shiver of delight through Kym's body. For years, she had studied the Empire's Prime Reaper and lusted after his strong body and dark good looks. Once, she had even taken the place of one of his sexual surrogates just to know the feel of him inside her. The experience had been all that she had imagined it would be although he had barely glanced at her. Just having her hands on his body as briefly as she had, would sustain her for a lifetime. Her dreams were filled with fantasies of what she wished could be; she envied Bridget Dunne.

  LeJong shook her head. “I will not let you harm him, Sejm. I would rather die myself than see him hurt!” Getting up from her desk, she went to the refrigeration unit and took out a vial of the antitoxin. She loaded a syringe and placed it in her pocket before loading nine more.

  Let the world disintegrate around her. Let the mighty fall and the worlds collide. If it was the last thing she ever did, she would save Kamerone Cree from the end Hael Sejm wished for him.

  ****

  “MASSAGE HIS arm, Bridget,” Hael instructed. “Work the liquid into his muscle.”

  “How sick is this going to make me, Lady?” Tylan had always feared his mother and had given her the title long ago.

  “You should feel nothing at all,” Hael replied. “If you do, call me immediately.” Bridget saw Kahn's head snap up sharply. She stopped rubbing his arm. “What's wrong?”

  “He's back,” Tylan said suddenly.

  “He landed twenty minutes ago,” Hael confirmed, taking pleasure in her son's psychic ability.

  “Cree?” Bridget breathed.

  “It's almost over,” Hael said, smiling. “In a matter of hours, we will be free.” Bridget turned away from the others and went to stand in front of the port windows. She stared sightlessly out into the black void and hoped with all her heart that the only thing that would be over would be the Empire's power.

  ****

  “WELCOME HOME, Lieutenant,” the Vid-Com greeted him. “Did you have a pleasant trip?”

  “Get purged,” Cree grumbled. Why the hell hadn't Bridget been at the door to meet him? Stalking through the living area, he rapped on her door, then slapped his hand against the control panel. She wasn't in her room or his or the bathing unit. He stomped back through the food preparation center, and then went to the Vid-Com.

  “Where is Bridget?”

  “She's not here, Lieutenant.”

  “I can see that, Helen!” he snapped, irritated that he had used Bridget's name for the AIU. “Where is she?”

  “With Admiral Kahn.”

  Stepping closer to the Vid-Com screen, he stared straight into the photophase filament. “Why is she there?”

  “He outranks you and she had no choice.”

  A chill passed down Cree's spine. He knew beyond any doubt what had happened. He put his hands to either side of the screen and hung his head. “Why is she there?” he repeated in a soft, hurt whisper.

  “The Admiral revoked your ownership of her and has sought permission-”

  “Where is Konnor Rhye?”

  There was a hesitation as the Vid-Com checked on the Keeper's whereabouts. “Commander Rhye is at this moment being given his yearly antiviral inoculations.”

  “When is Kahn planning on giving her to him?”

  “He isn't, Sir.”

  Cree's head came up. “But you said-”

  “You did not give me a chance to finish what I was saying, ” the Vid-Com chastened. “I was going to say that the Admiral sought permission from the Tribunal to Join with Dr. Dunne, himself. The paperwork went through this morning.” His world screeched to a halt and his knees nearly buckled from under him. He had to grab hold of the screen's edge to keep from collapsing. “When did he do this?”

  “The day you left for Terra, Sir.”

  “Five months ago?” he whispered. His heart was beginning to shatter in his chest. “Did she go willingly?”

  “She objected most strenuously to leaving these quarters, Sir, but Dr. Dean-” Cree pounded the wall with his fist. “What about Dr. Dean?”

  “The Director advised her not to cause any more trouble for you. If Dr. Dunne had refused to do as the Admiral commanded, you would have been targeted for another reinforcement. Dr. Dunne did not want that to happen, Sir.” Burning rage put a fissure straight down the middle of Cree's being and he spun around, jerked up his utility jacket and ran from the room.

  The Resistance wanted him? Well, they had him! All they had to do was give him back his gods -be-damned woman and he'd tear the Empire down with his bare hands!

  ****

  THE SIGHT that greeted Dr. LeJong Kym as she stepped off the private elevator onto Level Twelve where the Ranking Staff were quartered was one that would stay with her forever; it brought her up short

  “Kym!” she heard Beryla Dean shout to be heard over the commotion. “Over here!” Dr. Kym stepped over the prone body of a Keeper, flung herself back to avoid being bowled over by a stumbling Shepherd, and reached Dr. Dean's side.

  “Did you bring it?” Beryla asked, holding out her hand.

  LeJong nodded. “And this also.” She placed two objects in Beryla's palm. “It's the antitoxin.”

  “Good. I had forgotten about it.”

  “I had not,” LeJong said firmly. She pointed to the melee before her. “He is certainly unhappy.” She 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 whispered.

  “Yes, but I have to put a stop to this before he kills someone,” the Director stressed. It was unthinkable to her that two dozen men couldn't bring down one. She uncapped the two syringes, 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. He shuddered and began to go numb all over. “What did you do to me?” he asked before the lights went off and the floor dropped out from under him.

  Chapter 21

  CREE CAME to on Dr. Dean's couch. His head was splitting and there was a sickening taste in his mouth that left him afraid to move lest he puke on the pristine white carpet at which he found himself staring. Not that he cared if he did, but he thought if he were to start heaving, he would bring up his guts.

  “The symptoms will pass, Kamerone,” he heard a female voice tell him. “Here, drink this.” He was unable to prevent the cool hand from lifting his head and unable to stop the too-sweet liquid from oozing into his mouth.

  The taste wasn't as bad as what was already lingering there, but never let it be said the brew was palatable, either. He promptly gagged on it.

  “Help him to sit up before he throws up.” The Director chuckled.

  Rough hands dragged him up from his prone position on the couch, swung his legs down until he was slumped in the middle of the plush cushions. His head lolled along the back,
then swung down to his chest, his dark curls hiding his tightly shut eyes. A grim laugh bubbled out of his dry throat as he thought about his helplessness: He felt like a bird with a broken neck.

  “At least he finds his predicament humorous,” said a woman with a Chrystallusian accent.

  “Gods-be-damned bitches,” Cree muttered, trying to lift his head and failing.

  “We could strip him and mount him and he wouldn't be able to lift a finger to stop us,” another said. He knew that voice! Dorrie Burkhart! “Would you, Cree?”

  “Try it,” Cree growled. Once more he strove to raise his head, but only managed to make the world tilt away from him again.

  “Poor baby,” the Director said as she lifted his head and placed it where he could see her blurred face hovering above him. “Is that better?”

  “Dean-” he mumbled and was humiliated as drool dribbled unchecked from the corner of his mouth.

  “Here, Beryla. Let me,” the Chrystallusian woman suggested.

  A wet cloth was dabbed at his chin; a cool hand smoothed the hair back from his sweaty forehead, lingered as it stroked his cheek.

  “Bridget?” The one word was both an accusation and a plea for help.

  “We'll get to that in a moment,” the Director answered. “Get him to drink some more of this, LeJong.” The glass was placed to his lips once more. The taste still left him with an urge to vomit, but at least his vision was beginning to clear as the liquid slid down his unwilling throat. He looked up into the flat face of the little woman sitting on the couch beside him, tried to lift his hand to push the glass away, and found he couldn't.

  “I think he's had enough,” the Director remarked. She came to hunker down in front of him, putting her hands on his spread knees. When he tried his best to grab her, she shook her head. “Temporary paralysis, thank goodness!”

  “Good for you,” he snarled. “Not for me.”

  She smiled at the effort it took for him to lift his head enough to see her. “You are such a stubborn man, Kam.”

  “Determined.” Dr. Dean nodded. “That, too.”

  “You are going to be the death of me, ” he said flatly. “Does Bridget know what you have done to me?” Sensation was returning to his fingers and toes and he flexed his hands.

  “She knows you had to be subdued outside Kahn's quarters. ” The Director turned her head. “What did you hope to accomplish?”

  “I wanted my woman back!” he grumbled. “Haven't you tormented me enough, yet?” Dr. Dean pushed up from the floor and sat at his other side; she kept a firm hand on his left knee.

  “It was Tylan Kahn's idea to buy Bridget, Kamerone. We had nothing to do with that.”

  “He had no right! You should not have let her go with him!”

  “We Terran women have no choice but to do as we are bid by Rysalian warriors; you know that. He wanted her and he took her.”

  “She belongs to me!” he thundered, striving uselessly to lift his left hand. A sound of utter disgust rippled through his broad chest.

  “She was Konnor Rhye's, too, but you took her from him,” she reminded him.

  Instant fury sparked in Cree's demon eyes and he glared at her. “That is beside the point! I outranked him!”

  “And Kahn outranks you,” replied Beryla.

  “She is mine!” he said stubbornly and tried his best to move his arm enough to grab her, but all he managed to do was swing it into his lap where it lay like a limp noodle. “You have crippled me for life, bitch!”

  “LeJong, give him some more of the-”

  “No! I won't drink any more of that crap!”

  “Suit yourself,” Beryla sighed.

  “I do not feel good,” he complained. “That stuff makes it worse.”

  LeJong put a hand to his forehead. “He is feverish. The antitoxin is taking effect.” He managed to swing his head toward the woman with the flat face. “What gods-be-damned antitoxin? Who authorized you to give me…?”

  “We were speaking of Bridget,” the Director interrupted, frowning a warning at LeJong to hold her tongue.

  “Aye. I want her back.”

  “And just how will you do that?”

  “I will get her back! I have a plan.”

  “Like the one you had this afternoon?” she snorted. “That worked out well, didn't it?”

  “I would have gotten in if you hadn't-”

  “You were up against two dozen men with another dozen on their way. I'd say those were rather formidable odds even for a Reaper. There was no way they would ever have let you breach Kahn's door. You would have been arrested, jailed, tried, and wound up right back at Be-Mod 9.” When he flinched, she drove the needle deeper. “I would imagine your next session of reinforcement therapy will be of longer duration and far more intense.”

  “Far more intense?” he bellowed at her. “You damned well drove me mad the last time you had me in your hands, woman!”

  “I don't really think he has to worry about a next time, Madame Director,” a fourth woman piped up. “I vote we move on to another Reaper. I have already chosen a Terran female to be linked to Kryn Kiel. He showed a marked interest in her when he saw her on the promenade this morning.”

  Something clicked in Cree's brain and he swung his head to the unknown woman looking back at him from the far side of the room. It was all there before him, now-neatly aligning itself like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He had been trying for two years to understand why they had singled him out to annoy; now he knew. Had he watched Bridget as Kiel had watched the female this woman mentioned?

  He could not remember doing so; could not remember ever having seen Bridget before that first day in Be-Mod 9, but that was not to say he hadn't. Had he followed her with eyes so hungry some woman had taken note of it and mentioned it to another? Had he shown ‘marked interest’ in Bridget and in the doing, sealed his fate?

  “You orchestrated this whole thing, didn't you? Making me want her; allowing me to purchase her; making me so jealous …” He stopped and turned to look directly at Beryla. “There were subliminals in the therapy, weren't there?”

  “Yes.”

  A horrible thought entered his mind. “And Bridget?” He was afraid to ask, but Dorrie saved him the trouble.

  “Did you really think she would fall in love with you without a little help from us, Cree?” Sitting there, movement finally returning to his weak legs and leaden arms, Cree did not respond to her callous words, although they had cut him deeper than any laser lash ever could. He just looked at the Technician, his face filled with hurt. “She doesn't know you used them on her, does she?”

  “No. I doubt she would have agreed to it had she known what we would do.” Cree lowered his head. “Is it reversible?”

  “If you are asking if the suggestionaries will wear off,” the Director answered, “No, they won't. What she feels, she will feel for as long as she lives.”

  “Even if she should find out what you did?”

  “It won't matter to her.”

  Cree closed his eyes. “You had it all planned, didn't you?”

  “Yes. Down to the last detail. We left nothing to chance.”

  “The only way you will ever get Bridget back is if you help us, ” the unknown woman across the room said. “Help us put responsible women in the seats of power.”

  Cree opened his eyes and looked at her. “I will get her back.”

  “How?” she challenged.

  He shook his head. “I don't know yet, but I will.”

  “We are your only way!” the woman snapped. “Fight us and I swear the Resistance will not lift one finger to help you. Bridget will stay with Tylan Kahn and we will make gods-be-damned sure you are transported back to Helios Twelve where you can not do harm to our cause!”

  “Who are you, woman?”

  “That isn't important,” the Director broke in.

  “Aye, it is!” he spat. “You are Chalean.”

  The woman nodded. “I am.” She lifted her head. “
I am Hael Sejm of the Royal House of Brell.” Cree's brows drew together. “My dam-” The Reaper gaped at her. This woman staring at him with such loathing was his kin!

  His aunt! The sister of the woman who had given him life.

  “Aye,” Hael spat. “Analeis Brell was my sister.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “And now you know why I despise you!”

  “He had no hand in what was done to his mother, Hael,” LeJong said softly. She was sitting closer to the Reaper than Beryla was and she knew his full strength had returned; yet he had made no move to get up.

  “Had we been left on our world,” Hael spat. “Had we not been ravaged, she would still be alive and that -” she pointed a trembling finger at Cree. “-monstrosity would never have been born!”

  Cree had often wondered about the female who had given birth to him. He knew she had died at the hands of his own sire, but he did not know the particulars. There was no one who either could, or would, tell him about his dam. He wanted to know.

  “Tell me.”

  “With pleasure.” Hael smirked.

  “No!” Beryla snapped. “It is not something he needs to know.”

  “Why not? We need his help to crush the Empire. Let him know what the Empire did to his mother!”

  “You are not telling him this to further our cause,” LeJong accused. “You are telling him this to hurt him.”

  “Let her talk.

  Hael stood up, her body fairly quivering with rage. She was furious at LeJong for not having given the Reaper the poison she had intended he receive. When she had entered Beryla's office to find Kamerone Cree sleeping on the Director's couch, her hand had gone to the dagger at her belt and she had stepped forward, wanting nothing more than to plunge the blade into his black heart. She would have had LeJong not stepped forward to stop her.

  “Go on,” Cree insisted. “I want to hear what you have to say.”

  “Oh, you shall, Reaper,” Hael sneered. “You shall.” She took a long breath, then began her tale.