Ann Wilson by A Terran Empire Omnibus

Author:A Terran Empire Omnibus
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-02-01T15:25:17+00:00

The Count was having a night as restless as Thompson’s. Finally, not long after he’d been put in the holding cell, she got out of bed— carefully, so she wouldn’t disturb the Donor she’d mated with—and went into her living area to call Security. “Is anything wrong?” she demanded as soon as the desk sergeant appeared on her screen.

“Not really, my Lady,” the desk sergeant replied. “Captain Thompson came in a few minutes ago looking for Chief Kaufman, but she’s out on patrol, so I told him he could wait. But he was scratching his throat, drawing blood, and he wouldn’t stop—I had to order him restrained. He’s handcuffed and in the holding cell till she gets back. He’s trying to climb the walls, but at least he can’t hurt himself.”

The Count frowned. That was a peculiar reaction to an attempted Change, even to one she and Kaufman had known would be unsuccessful— but it did explain the feeling of strain she sensed. Perhaps the attempt had had some effect after all; though it certainly hadn’t made him into a Kin, he was reacting as strongly as if it had. “Call me when Chief Kaufman arrives. I want to see for myself exactly what is happening.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

The Count switched off and dressed, thinking. It had never seemed reasonable to her that ten percent of susceptibles didn’t react except to become Donors of a class that was unusual, but didn’t require most to be susceptible or go through Change. There had never been evidence of more than a difference in degree, however—or not until now, perhaps. Thompson’s reaction might indicate a difference in kind, a Change to … what? Something that would complement the Kin Change?

It was half an hour before the desk sergeant called to report that Kaufman had come in, but when she did, the Count lost no time getting to Security and the holding cell. She arrived as Kaufman was using a damp cloth to gently wipe blood from scratches on Thompson’s neck.

She felt immediate sympathy for the Marine; reading him told her that he was in pain, as well as under the terrible strain she’d felt in him earlier. She had sensed that strain before, she realized now, though far less intensely: in some of the others who hadn’t—or apparently hadn’t—Changed, near the end of the ten days that separated their allowable Donations. That irritability and anxiety had been attributed to a natural desire to Donate as often as they could, but now the Count was beginning to think it might be a physiological need as real as a Kin’s need for blood. Thompson certainly hadn’t had time to miss Donating to that degree, not with Kaufman having taken him the day before. “Captain,” she said gently.

The face that turned to her held desperation and sudden hope. “Y … yes, my Lady?”

“Did you dream tonight?”

“Huh?” Thompson was startled at the question, but he nodded. “Yes—a dragon wearing a crown. An Oriental dragon. He … approves of me.

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