Howl of the Wolf (Heirs to the Throne Book 1) by Diane Rapp

mind to make contact.  Donovan shared it all .  Pain! Fear!   Alex projected his memory of Krystal—happy, laughing, silken blond strands of hair floating in delicate tendrils as she somersaulted through the gravity chamber.  The fear diminished.  They heard Krystal’s weak mental whisper .  Please help me, Alex.
    I’ll do everything I can , he told her.
    Jerking around, Alex shouted, “We don’t have much time.  Secure Krystal’s clone from stasis!  Get it in here immediately.”
    “Krystal?  But this is Jenny!”
    Alex shouted.  “Move!”
    “I’d do as he says,” Donovan said.  “When he gets like this I’d rather be laser-blasted than get in his way, but it’s your choice, son.” His green eyes squinted menacingly.
    Faced with an imposing giant dressed in captain’s gold, sweat trickled down the medtech’s face.  “Yes, of course.”  He scrambled into action, shouting orders that spurred activity. 
    Donovan rubbed his forehead, walked to Alex and whispered, “You’re broadcasting again.  I saw everything through your mind.”
    Startled, Alex said, “Sorry.”
    To Donovan’s relief the fragile string that connected their minds dissolved.  He shrugged.  “It’s okay.  At least I’m in tune with the situation.”
    “We can’t take her out in this condition. She’d die.”
    Donovan nodded.  “Downworld sources report Krystal died yesterday, a suicide.”
    “Well, we know different!  These idiots initiated Transfer without monitoring, using the wrong clone!  Are they insane?”  Dr. Alexander’s fingers flew over the keyboard.  “The settings are all wrong, and I’ve no time to prepare the clone properly.”
    “Do your stuff, Alex.  I’ll figure a way to get us out of here.”  Donovan measured the lab with his gaze.  “Word will hit administration soon.”  He activated a hand-held communicator.  “Trenton?”    
    “Aye, Captain.”
    “Prepare to take on fragile cargo that needs special handling.”
    “Understood.”
    Donovan disconnected.  He maneuvered his large frame through the equipment-filled space to the outer periphery.  Still housed in a life-support container, Krystal’s clone floated into the room on a hydra-lift. 
    Dr. Alexander vetoed shifting the clone onto a table.  Swiftly monitoring the new clone, he nodded with satisfaction.  “We’ll proceed.”  He worked feverishly, the Transfer machinery humming. 
    Donovan remembered the first time he met Krystal, so many spans ago.  He was a new recruit, young, green, and awkward and Krystal was the perfect woman, who he admired from a safe distance.  Was this battered woman the vibrant, lively, and incredibly sexy woman he remembered?  His heart pounded at the memory of Krystal.  How would Krystal react to him?  Foolish question!  Krystal never knew about his youthful obsession, and he still felt awkward when it came to women.  He played the role of spaceship captain, impressive and aloof, but Krystal would see him as a stammering old fool dressed in gold.  
    Donovan dragged his mind back to the present.  He must solve the critical problem at hand.  Administration wouldn’t let them waltz out of here unhampered, and the Zebulon’s capture could jeopardize the entire exodus.  Donovan clenched his teeth.  A diversion!  He needed something to keep security occupied while the ship slipped away. 
    Leaving the lab, he paced off the size of the room.  A medtech opened a nearby storage cell to secure a fresh oxygen tank.  Emergency suits hung in the cubical within easy reach. 
    “Can I help you, miss?”  He flashed his most charming smile, the one that revealed a dimple in his right cheek.  The medtech blushed.  “Anything else you need?” he asked.  Hefting the burden over a muscular shoulder, he peered over her head and memorized the combination while she locked the door.
    “Thanks.”  The girl eyed his gold uniform.
    “Might as well help. I hate standing idle