Devoted Deceptions, A 4th Millennium Adventure, Book 3 Read online

  This story copyright 2002 by Cherie Singer. Published by Hard Shell Word Factory.

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  eBook ISBN: 0-7599-1268-8

  Cover art © 2002 Mary Z. Wolf

  All rights reserved.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. These characters are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  Thirty-first day of the seventh month, standard year 3164

  Medical bay, aboard the Space Corps Fleet Starcruiser Falchion

  HIS WIFE'S hoarse cry of agony shattered the uneasy silence, twisted his nerve endings with harsh, splintery claws.

  Wulfe Kincade ground his teeth together. Her torturous pain flew across the mental link between them, staggering him. He fought to ignore the rare sensation of fear--fear that he'd lose the only woman he'd ever loved, the only woman he ever could love. Simply because she refused to bend to his will and accept the physician's attempt to take the babe surgically.

  Wulfe felt utterly helpless to do anything but curse Garesh, the Overseer of the Underworld. He had never heard his mate, Cat, scream from pain. She'd raised her voice in pure rage, yes, but never from this kind of physical anguish, something over which he had absolutely no control. "Easy, love, easy," he urged. Frantic to help her any way he could, he forced his words to sound calm and reassuring.

  "You take...it easy," Cat managed as the most recent contraction waned and she gulped in air, "when you try...to push a...flamemelon... out your--"

  "Catherine! Concentrate on your breathing," Doctor Albright warned sharply. "Here comes another one."

  "We can do this, Cat," Wulfe encouraged her.

  "We can?" She changed her breathing as the contraction built to a crescendo. "Can we? We?"

  Cat's pain slammed into him through their mental link. His knees started to buckle.

  Albright grabbed him by his left ear and yanked his head down to her level. "Don't you even think about fainting on her!"

  Wulfe allowed the doctor such liberty only because of her concern for Cat. He cleared his throat. "Bellons do not faint."

  Albright gave him a frosty glance of her blue eyes and then let go of him. "Make certain you don't. You won't like me if you do."

  The fingers of Wulfe's right hand, numbed from the grip Cat had on him, refused to function properly when he tried to flex them. Cat's suffering made her oblivious to how tightly she clenched his hand, how far her fingernails gouged into his flesh. Wulfe cupped the side of Cat's face. "I would willingly take all the pain, if it would spare you, love."

  Nora Albright, his ship's chief medical officer, ran her experienced hands over Cat's huge, swollen belly, the examination gentle and efficient. "Catherine, you must allow me to help."

  "No." A low groan escaped from between Cat's gritted teeth before she managed to continue speaking. "I am Bellon, mated to a... Bellon warrior. I will...birth...my own...child." Drenched with perspiration, Cat panted for air.

  Moira, the other physician in the room, placed her fingertips to Cat's left temple in an attempt to help Cat regain a level of mental control. "Focus, Commander, and use your Erosian talent. See the sunset in your mind. Allow the gentle evening breeze to cool your body, calm your mind."

  "I'm trying--I'm trying--I'm trying." Another crushing contraction hit her. Cat's usually throaty voice rose through several octaves, hitting a new high note, destroying the words.

  The sound of Cat's torment pierced Wulfe's heart with an anguish he'd never before experienced. He'd seen Cat lying broken, burnt and bloody from a madman's brutal attack, but she hadn't cried out like this. At least then he could rage against the Mallochon responsible for Cat's injury; he'd almost killed the assassin in retaliation. Now he had no one to blame but himself. He hated himself for being the cause, detested himself for being unable to take the suffering away. If he could do anything to alleviate her pain, the deed would have been long done. Never again, he vowed, would his ma'ten suffer this way.

  "Focus." Obviously dissatisfied with Cat's response, Moira tried to reinforce the earlier suggestion in her no-nonsense fashion. "You must focus, Commander Culver."

  "Focus this, Moira," Cat ordered, her voice rough with pain as she half-completed a rude Bellon gesture before Wulfe grabbed the motioning hand and stopped her. She sagged back into the supporting arc of his left arm. Her body trembled with exhaustion and the residue of body-rending torture.

  Wulfe took a fortifying breath of air tainted with the medicinal odors common to all ship sickbays. "Cat, you will allow Nora to do something for you."

  "No." She bit her bottom lip to keep back another gasp.

  "You're too small to do this on your own."

  "No, I'm not."

  "Then this boy of yours is simply too big." Wulfe wiped her face, pushing back long strands of wet hair. Love for this woman whom he'd lost for seven long years--an eternity--filled his heart and soul. Now that he had her back, he must remain strong for her. "I am your Lord. You have vowed your allegiance to me. You will do as I order."

  "No." She shook her head, Bellon stubbornness reigning. "I can do this. My oath...makes you...my Lord...not my master."

  "Breathe," Nora reminded her.

  "You bloody well breathe!" Cat stopped long enough to take in a shallow breath. "I will birth...your son for you, my husband." She ground her teeth together until the spasm passed, then glared at Wulfe. "Despite your male interference."

  Wulfe worked his hand free of Cat's grip and motioned Albright off to the side. His legs went rubbery when another contraction hit Cat. "Nora, she's in more pain than she's telling you. Give her something, block the agony for her."

  "I'd like to, but if Catherine can't feel the pain, she won't believe she needs help delivering the child and will never accept assistance."

  "Is this normal?" Gods, it couldn't be, not this much pain.

  "How do I know?" Albright pushed the heel of her hand against her forehead, muttered a curse. "I don't know anyone else with her ancestry, let alone someone who's given birth. Or tried to, at any rate." She cast an unfriendly eye at him. "It doesn't help matters that your wife is so small, or you're so blasted big and your son has inherited your size."

  "It's too late for me to do anything about that now."

  "Well do Catherine a favor and don't get her pregnant again," Albright whispered angrily.

  "You forget yourself, Doctor." Wulfe glanced to the bed cradling two of the most precious lives in the universe and looked away again. No one, not even his chief medical officer, could blame him more than he condemned himself for putting Cat through this cruel, unspeakable suffering.

  Albright shook her head. "Sorry. Look, it's not your fault. Because of her mixed ancestry, I can't even tell you for sure if the baby is full-term, early or late. Lot of help I am."

  "Will the child be safe?" Wulfe couldn't bring himself to give voice to the question haunting him: Were they cursed to lose another son before he drew his first breath of life? He saw compassion in the doctor's blue eyes. Neither could he tolerate the grief and dread Albright's soft emotion conjured up in him. Must he choose between mate and son?

  "He should be safe enough, if we can keep his mother well. Earther and Syllogian women both carry about thirty-nine weeks. Erosian females average fort
y-five. Your Bellon females are the impatient ones. They carry between thirty-two and thirty-four weeks. Cat has genes from all four genetic backgrounds, so her baseline could be any one of those, or an average."

  "She's at thirty-three weeks, right?"

  "Barely."

  "That's time enough for the babe, isn't it? I don't know if Cat could endure the loss of another son." Wulfe locked his legs as phantom pain, excruciatingly intense even through the filter of the link, ripped through his body. Sweet Creator, how did Cat withstand the real thing?

  "Based on his size and all the good test results, I'd say the baby will be fine, assuming I get to him in time. It's Catherine that worries me. For her sake, I thank the stars your son didn't decide to wait any longer. He'd literally tear her apart if he had. I'd be far happier if she'd allow me to intervene." Albright studiously avoided looking in Cat's direction, stared directly at him. "If you give me the word, Captain, I'll step in right now before this goes on any longer."

  "You realize your intervention will be an insult to Cat."

  "An insult? To her or to you? Take your pick, Captain. Bruise some ridiculous Bellon pride or risk her life further."

  "You will not allow her to die, regardless whose pride is damaged. Cat's life is what matters." Wulfe glanced back to the bed, wishing he could exchange his life for hers, take on her suffering. The fierce grimace of determination on Cat's face would forever haunt him. "How long can she continue like this?"

  "Not long. Catherine's been in hard labor--the hardest I've ever seen--for hours. I don't think she has any reserves left. Moreover, against my explicit advice, she's wasting precious energy trying to shield you from the worst of her pain."

  Wulfe knew what he felt, the grinding agony radiating in relentless waves from his mate. If Cat was trying to protect him by damping the full force of the link, what must she be enduring firsthand? "Give her what time you can, then take over, Nora, whether or not she agrees. I'll hold her down myself if you have to put her under."

  "You'll need to hold her, unless she passes out first."

  Wulfe returned to Cat's side, offered his hand to her again. She accepted, licking the blood from the edge of her lip where her teeth had ravaged the skin during his absence. Her grip felt decidedly weaker now, and her fingertips had grown cold.

  "You don't have to go through this, Cat. Nora can help you."

  "Forget it."

  "There is no shame, no dishonor, in accepting assistance. Do not argue with me, wife. I will not allow it."

  "Even you can't--uh--narg--control me this time."

  Desperate to protect her, he used the only thing he knew would snare her full attention. "Think of the babe's safety."

  "That's not fair," Cat gasped, trying to get through another contraction. She arched up from the birthing bed, the new spasm riding viciously on the wave of the previous one.

  "Fair or not, consider the truth of my words." The insignia on Wulfe's collar chirped. "Not now," he responded, furious with whomever dared to intrude.

  His first officer's voice came back to him. `This is important, Captain.'

  "What I'm doing isn't?" Dark, ruthless shadows of pain gripped the lower half of Wulfe's body, as though muscle and tendon fought, trying to twist him in two different directions.

  `I know it is, Sir,' Wheeler continued, `but this is an emergency. I'm in the doctor's office and will wait for you.'

  Albright spoke up. "Go ahead, Captain. I doubt anything's going to happen here in the next few minutes."

  "I won't leave her."

  "Go, my husband. Attend to what must be done." Cat released the hold she had on his hand and took a deep breath. "Your son and I will be here when you return."

  Wulfe traced the line of her jaw, his fingers lingering on her lower lip, refusing to allow any trace of fear to show in his expression. "Are you certain?"

  Cat gave him a weak smile, the spark exhausted from her eyes. "You won't be able to concentrate until you've talked to Erich. Besides, the average Bellon warrior doesn't attend the birthing of his sons."

  Wulfe forced a smile to spread across his face as he gazed down at the valiant little warrior he'd taken as mate. "I thought you said I wasn't an average Bellon male. Have you been untruthful with me, my Lady?"

  His provocation worked, however briefly. Cat's sense of humor peeked through her weariness, an all-too-brief flash of better times. "Oh, you're not average in any way, my love. You are exceptional."

  "When I return, you will argue no further on this matter. The doctors will assist you."

  "You think. Go. Now."

  Wulfe leaned over to whisper in Cat's ear, "Remember, my wife, my lifemate, ma'ten, I cherish you above all others."

  "As I do you, my husband," she whispered in her sultry voice. Her amber eyes widened as another powerful contraction began. The expression on her face changed from tender affection to open hostility. Cat reached blindly for something to grip and found Moira's forearm. "Leave me, Wulfe! Be gone!"

  Wulfe left the delivery room, Albright's professional voice and his wife's labored breathing following him until the doors slid shut, cutting off the sounds. The silence should have brought some measure of relief, but not being with his mate only increased his worry.

  Wheeler waited for Wulfe on the other side, apparently not content to stay in Nora's office. Wulfe took out his frustration on his first officer. "This better be a Class One Emergency, Mister."

  "It is." Wheeler's face had turned chalky.

  "Let's hear it, Erich." Wulfe braced himself for the next onslaught of pain he felt building. Cat valiantly tried to keep her suffering from him, but their mental link made the task all but impossible for her at the moment. The echo of the contraction rolled through Wulfe, robbing him of control, making it impossible for him to draw a complete breath.

  "We just received word from Space Corps Command. The Mallochons have made a preemptive strike against the League. They hit Station Garrett. Hard. She was full of civilians."

  The Mallochons had already murdered untold thousands and seemed determined to kill more. Cold trepidation marched up Wulfe's spine. More than once, Mallochons had come within a heartbeat of costing Cat her life. "How much do we know?"

  "Reports are sketchy at the moment, but what little information we've received doesn't sound encouraging."

  "We're going to have full-blown war on our hands before we know it. If the League of Unified Worlds doesn't give Space Corps the freedom to respond, now, millions will die!"

  "Looks that way, Captain, unless the Mallochons can be stopped right where they are."

  "We're too far away to be of any use to Station Garrett. Do we have any information as to who's in that sector of space?"

  "The Egyptian and the Silver Song are closest."

  "Good ships. Good captains." An echo of Cat's agony sliced through Wulfe, making him break out in a sweat. "Anything else?"

  "We intercepted a transmission. Two other vessels will be coming out of hyperspace over Garrett any time now. The Bellon Yataghan, your brother Hawke's ship, and Cass Burnelle's Moon Maiden."

  Wulfe nodded. Hardly two weeks ago, Hawke and Cass, his own mate's sister, had taken their bonding oaths. "Hawke's a good man to have in a tight situation and Cass makes a living doing search and rescue operations. I don't know how many evacuees their ships can take, but the station will need all the help they can find."

  Wheeler glanced at the door to Cat's room. "How's Catherine?

  Wulfe met his first officer's gaze and then looked away, unwilling to let the Earther see the fear coiling through him. "Not good, Erich."

  "You plan to tell her about the Mallochon strike?"

  "Cat doesn't need to know. She can't do anything for them right now. I have to get back to her."

  "I'll keep you informed of anything critical, Captain."

  "Do that." The most agonizing wall of pain yet hit Wulfe with heart-stopping force. Steeling himself, he spun around, took giant steps back to Cat an
d her ordeal.

  Wulfe reentered the private room just in time to hear the lusty squalling of his son. Just in time to see the life-sustaining blood gush from his beloved mate's body.

  Chapter 2

  Fifteenth day of the eighth month, standard year 3164

  Aboard the Starcruiser Falchion

  WULFE TUCKED an extra, miniature blanket around his infant son. He allowed the cradle to resume its gentle rocking motion and watched the babe sleep, marveling at so much perfection in so tiny a bundle. Love for his son swelled through him with breath-stealing intensity, despite the agony the babe had innocently inflicted upon Cat as she struggled to birth him.

  A new ache of loss lodged beneath his heart. He knew he must send the babe and his older daughter away to keep them safe from Mallochon attack, but already felt the emptiness of their absence.

  Each day, the Mallochon Imperium threatened someone's way of life. Even one person endangered by them was one too many. "You have harmed my family, my people, too often. We will stop you," he vowed in a whisper, "before you cause others to suffer the way we have."

  Wulfe padded back to his own bed, pulled the covers up over himself and shivered. Not so much because he felt cold, but because he hated the way the big bed seemed to taunt him when he lay mateless in the sleeper. Hundreds of people aboard the Falchion, and one unshared bed made him feel alone, empty.

  The communit next to the bed emitted a soft beep.

  "Kincade," Wulfe responded quietly, not wanting to wake the babe. "Keep your voice down."

  `Wheeler here. We've had a message from Admiral Flemming.'

  "New orders, Commander?"

  `Aye. We're to report to Station Uhlein in eleven hours.'

  "Set course. Maximum speed should put us there in time."

  `Aye, with about forty minutes to spare. Course correction laid in. We're on our way. See you in the morning, Cap.'

  Wulfe closed the channel. He pressed his forearm across his eyes, blocking out the minimal lighting in the room. The layover at Uhlein would be the first step in transforming the Falchion from a top-of-the-line starcruiser to a battle cruiser. The pending change instilled a sense of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.