Chapter Fifteen

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We hit the C-D border at Calth early on the fourth day after jump. Ahead of schedule, praise the stars! Sublights were back to specs; better than specs because I didn’t have Fleet safety regs to worry about anymore. That Sully knew ways to coax more power out of the engines came as no surprise to me. I’d figured out long ago that rules existed to a great extent so that Sully could break them.

And that’s when he was just Sully. Not pirate, lover, ghost, friend, poet and mercenary, sitting at my engineering station, weapons silent but active. All ship’s sensors on serious watch for Imperial bogies.

Ren had integrated data we’d gleaned, illegally, from the Imperial transit beacon in Dafir.

We looked for anything to do with Marker. He’d sorted it by voice parameters, talking softly into his headset.

I reviewed the updated meet-point coordinates we’d picked up on a blind transmit from the Karn last shift. A private yacht turned ghost ship. Sully’s home base that I’d never been able to catch. It was about twice the size of the Meritorious. But rigged to run with a minimum crew complement of six. Rigged with other things, too. He’d laid them out for me in detail.

These were things he wanted me to know. Weapons systems, tracking, sensor jamming arrays.

Sublights, hypers, all with overrides. A comm pack that would make an Imperial techie faint with joy.

And a custom, highly illegal, ion trail diffuser. Waves on a beach dissolving the footprints in the sand.

There was no way the Meritorious could find her. We’d have to wait at meet-point, let her find us.

Ren slipped his headset down around his neck and swiveled toward me. “There was an unusual series of shipments inbound to Marker a few weeks ago. You might want to—” An alarm wailed shrilly, my adrenaline spiking along with it. Red lights flared over my long distance scanner. I switched screens on my armpad automatically and saw the configuration of an Imperial cruiser. An hour behind us, but her appearance might not be coincidental.

The Meritorious’s old files confirmed her ID: the Andru Kendrick. Captain Gemma Junot.

I tapped off the alarm. Sully studied the main screen, which showed the same data as my armpad. I read off the ship’s and captain’s name for Ren.

“Know her?” Sully meant Junot not her ship. He knew what a Maven-class cruiser signified as well as I did.

“By reputation.” Junot was a gruff woman in her late forties. But well liked, fair. Though that was from a fellow officer’s point of view. I wasn’t one of those anymore. Now I was the enemy. “If she has someone sharp on scan who’s spotted us, she’ll be looking for reasons why a P40 configuration isn’t broadcasting an Imperial ID. She has to know a couple mining corporations use P40s for transport. But she also knows a P40’s missing from Moabar—and hasn’t been confirmed dead yet.”

We had to keep enough distance between us so that the answer to Captain Junot’s questions would confirm our cover as a mining transport. If she, or any bogey, came within visual range, the Meritorious’s name and Imperial insignia were clearly visible on her hull.

We cruised at max sublight, per spec not per Sully. I didn’t want to attract attention by pushing the ship to a speed a P40 normally couldn’t provide, a speed that a mining transport had no need of. I could tell Sully to push her now, ten over spec, put some more distance between us and Junot. But I needed the Kendrick to go away, not get suspicious, and kick her own engines hot in pursuit.

“Hold speed for now?” Sully echoed my thoughts.

I nodded. “Unless she’s got friends coming in from the opposite axis, we should be able to talk our way out of this.”

A second alarm wailed.

She had friends.

“Shit.” I had no choice. Subtlety was out. I raked down my straps. Sully and Ren did the same. “Change course, ninety degrees. Options, Sullivan. Get me options.”

“Changing course. Working on it.”

An asteroid field would be nice, somewhere to play duck and hide. Mining rafts even nicer.

We’d have a legitimate purpose then. Mining transport working the rafts. But this was Calth, not the A-B border where such things were possible.

“Bogey Two an hour ten ahead. Kendrick an hour behind, but closing,” Ren said, headset back on.

“ID on Bogey Two?”

“Not yet,” Ren replied.

That was one piece of good news. If I couldn’t recognize them, they couldn’t recognize me.

Yet.

“Kendrick changing course.” Sully worked the console with a calmness that belied our situation. “Following.”

“Damn it, I hate when everyone wants to dance with me at the same time.”

“You’re just a popular girl, Chaz. Ready to lose them, yet?”

“Not until I have somewhere to hide.”

“Got to let go of that rule book sometime. All life’s a risk.”

“I’m at quota for risks this week, thank you. Just keep us moving.”

“Bogey Two coming in sensor range,” Ren said. “Confirm ID. Imperial Destroyer Morgan Loviti.”

I froze, for less than a half a second. I was still a Fleet officer. I was still in red-alert conditions. My mind still focused on data, my fingers moved over the armpad. But I froze as if ice had been sprayed through my insides.

Philip.

“Captain is Philip Guthrie.” Ren announced what I already knew.

“Chaz.” Sully’s dark gaze moved to me, searching, probing. Ren’s, too, probably. My rainbow had just turned glacial, cracked and shattered.

“Know him, too,” I said. I couldn’t find an offhand smile to tag my words. I fell back into Fleet-issue-captain mode. “Hold course and speed.”

A duro-hard rattled in my personal cold storage, knocked hard against my mental walls. Or maybe that was my heart. Shit. I didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. I had two Imperial bogies on my tail and not a hidey-hole in sight.

And one of the bogies knew me, very, very well.

“Kick us up ten.” I was running now, running from more than just bogies.

“Plus ten,” Sully replied evenly. “Loviti changing course to intercept. Kendrick still coming on. Forty-five minutes behind, closing fast.”

I tapped at my screen, searching desperately for answers. Running would only bring more ships, more intercepts. They’d box us in, if they didn’t start firing first. I had to lose them.

Or I had to negotiate.

“We can take plus twenty.” Sully’s voice was calm, but I felt an underlying question, a gentle nudge of concern, as if he were asking, what’s wrong? What aren’t you telling?

Lots. A whole duro-hard full. Maybe two. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to; there just wasn’t time for explanations. “Hold course and speed. No, belay that order, Sullivan. Change course to intercept the Morgan Loviti. Hold speed at plus ten.”

“Bringing weapons on—”

“Stand down, Mister Sullivan. I need weapons cold, shields on minimum.”

“Chaz—”

“Do it!” God, Sully don’t argue with me. Not now. I’m at-quota on risks and still hip-deep in confusion.

“Changing course. Twenty minutes to intercept.” His flat response told me he was complying with my orders. But clearly, he didn’t like it at all.

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to throw words together that would either save us, or damn us. The only thing I knew for sure was that if it came down to the latter, my choice was clear. My life in exchange for Sully’s and Ren’s. Philip would do that.

He wouldn’t even hesitate.

Philip Guthrie had always had his own agenda. And he had seniority to Junot. She’d do what he told her. That I also knew for sure.

“Fifteen minutes to intercept.”

I turned away from Sully’s voice. “Ren.”

He looked over his shoulder, nodded. His clouded gaze probed me.

“I’ll need you off the bridge before intercept. Fleet knows a mind-wipe was done on two officers. They see a Stolorth and nothing I say is going to make a difference.”

“Understand, Chasidah.”

“Wait in my cabin. My desk screen has sufficient voice capabilities that you should be able to follow what happens on the bridge. They will not—” I said firmly, with a glance to Sully on my right. His hard obsidian eyes met my gaze. “—they will not take this ship. I will not permit that.”

I turned back to Ren. “If I’m removed to the Loviti—”

“That’s unacceptable!” Sully’s voice, angry, rode over mine.

My own rose, correspondingly. “If I am removed to the Loviti understand it’s because this is my choice. I’m placing you in command if that happens, Ren Ackravaro.” Behind me, I heard the sharp snap of a safety harness unlatching.

“My orders, if that happens, are this: depart, with all possible speed. No shots are to be fired. I repeat. No shots are to be fired.”

“Chasidah!” Sully grasped my forearm, tried to pull me around.

I yanked back, away from the surge of heat that flared through me at his touch. “Ren. As a friend, you must do this.”

Ren’s face was impassive. His chest rose and fell rapidly. The emotions on the bridge had to almost suffocate him. And Sully as well, who had my arm in a hard grip, who had to be feeling everything roiling through me.

Which is why I had to put Ren in charge. I couldn’t trust that Sully would react logically, unemotionally. Not with what I was about to do.

“Do you understand, Ren?”

“The other ship following. They will listen to the Loviti if we’re permitted to leave?”

“Junot will do what Guthrie says, yes. He’s got seniority.”

Sully wrenched me around to face him. Heat rose, crested. Ice cold came in hard after that.

Sharp, biting. Scraping me raw on the inside. He was hurting, afraid. But so was I.

“Take your hands off me, Mister Sullivan and sit down!” I had to get away from his touch, from the emotions he poured through me. I needed to be thinking clearly to face Philip.

He released my arms but didn’t move.

“This ship is under my command as well,” he said finally, his voice harsh.

“But I’m her captain. We agreed on that from the beginning. I also know Fleet, know how Fleet thinks, reacts. You don’t. So listen to your own wisdom, for once. You can’t outrun them.

You’re deep in Fleet territory. You’ve got two starports in this quadrant of Calth. The only way you’ll make it to jumpgate is if they let you.”

I took a deep breath. “That’s what I’m trying to do. Get their permission. If it means I have to stay behind, so be it. It’s a risk I have to take.” A wry smile finally found its way to my lips.

“I’m guess I’m not at quota after all.”

“We’re being hailed on all channels, Chasidah.”

I turned to Ren. “We’ll hold position here.” I tabbed the sublights down to one-quarter power. “Off the bridge, Ren. I’ll open comm from here.”

Ren stood, laid his hand briefly on my shoulder, then left. A sad, troubled warmth remained.

I turned back to Sully. “I’m going on visual. It’s imperative Guthrie believes I’m in total command of this ship. It’s imperative you act in all ways as if I am. Stay in the background, let him see you as little as possible. You’ve not changed that much in two years. You get recognized and it’s over. Now, sit.”

A wrenching, gnawing anguish suddenly shot through my mind, my thoughts. Cold and hot at the same time, it was cutting, stark. Probing. It grasped at memories. My breathing stuttered, caught. My hand clenched the armpad. I stared at obsidian eyes, at a man standing three feet in front of me, not even touching me. And I couldn’t breathe.

Then just as quickly it was gone.

This was not the warm sensation that had caressed my body. This was not an empath’s gentle touch. This was deeper, in my mind, tearing open my thoughts with blatant ownership.

I felt violated, naked. And too stunned to face the horror of what he’d just done.

“Gabriel will not lose Chasidah.” His voice was as quiet as the vast emptiness of space. And as dark. He sat.

I clenched my fist to steady my shaking hand, then hit the keypad. The center viewscreen opaqued, locked on the hailing signal from the Loviti. It segued through instantly, because this was, after all, Imperial ship to Imperial ship.

An image flickered, hazing into focus. The Loviti’s bridge. A much larger, grander bridge than my little P40’s. And in the middle, a man in Imperial grays, captain’s stars over his breast pocket. He wasn’t sitting in the captain’s chair. Philip Guthrie liked to stand, reinforce his imposing presence, his slate-gray hair, his piercing blue eyes. His impeccable posture, well-muscled body.

Forty-eight years old and in command of a Galaxy-class destroyer. He was a figure and a face that turned heads regularly in bars on liberty. Classic, undeniably masculine. Confident.

I tamped down the shock rolling through me at Sully’s intrusion into my mind. Threw it in that duro-hard and somehow dragged out my Fleet-issue confidence. My Fleet-issue resolve. I lounged sideways in my chair as Philip’s image solidified, crossed my legs, propped my chin in my hand. I knew Philip would see my image at the same time I saw his. But I, at least, had the element of surprise.

Blue eyes widened and chiseled lips parted, but only slightly. “My God. Chaz.” I arched an eyebrow, mimicking Sully at his best. “Hello, Philip, darling. Miss me?” Chapter Sixteen

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A strong, sharp stab of pained confusion cut a second time into my mind. Again, it was sent deliberately, without physical contact, from the man sitting off to my right. I shoved it aside, just as I’d shoved aside the questions that had surfaced with Sullivan’s last intrusion, the one that had me gasping, clutching the armpad.

I’d lost my right to ask questions.

But I hadn’t lost my focus. I knew what I had to do.

I kept smiling, a slow, lazy smile as I waited for Philip to find words. It was almost a pleasure to see him at a loss like this. It’d been a long time.

I could see his crew diligently working the consoles behind him. We weren’t in visual range. He knew this was a P40. But not which one.

He would have, eventually, if we’d run and they’d blockaded us. Then we’d be looking at a few more destroyers, a good half-dozen cruisers and patrol ships. There’d be no bargaining then.

But it was only Philip, Junot and Chaz Bergren right now, out here. And Gabriel Ross Sullivan on my bridge, and a blind Stolorth in my cabin.

Philip gestured sharply toward his comm officer. “Transfer this to my office.” The screen blanked. When it came back on, Philip was still standing. But the background was different. A wide viewport, a high backed chair. And no one else to overhear what might be said.

“Chaz.” Philip repeated my name as if he needed verification of my identity. “There’s a report of your—a ship being taken by force. At Moabar.” He was recovering from the shock of seeing me. He frowned, looking stern. The venerable Fleet captain, quantifying the facts. “This doesn’t bode well for you.”

“I’m aware the Meritorious was taken. But not by me.”

“No. The Farosians. With a Stolorth Ragkiril. We know that. How you would get involved with them, how you would get involved with that I cannot understand.”

‘That’ meant a Stolorth. A Fleet-issue sentiment of disgust.

“Kingswell, Lieutenant Paxton were near death when Fleet recovered them,” he continued.

“Their minds viciously raped, all but destroyed.”

Liar! The word speared my mind, blazing with anger. It was as clear as if he’d shouted it in my ear.

I pushed it off; let horror, loathing flicker across my face. The emotions were only partially feigned. “Are you blaming me for this?”

“Are you going to tell me this isn’t the Meritorious?”

“I am. It’s not.”

Another moment of shocked silence. Good. I liked when Philip didn’t have a ready answer.

“She’s a Ninacska Mining Cooperative transport ship, the Far Rider. You’ve been scanning me for five minutes. You know my ID.”

“Yes, but—”

“Be logical. Let’s assume this was the Meritorious. Let’s assume I’d taken her from Moabar with your Farosian terrorists and some Stolorth mind-fucker. Do you really think I’d be sitting here with minimum shields and weapons cold? Would I have changed course to meet you?” I shook my head sadly. “By all I hold holy, Philip. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“You’re supposed to be incarcerated on Moabar. Am I supposed to believe you didn’t steal this ship?”

I leaned to my left, recrossed my legs, propped my chin in my other hand, shrugged. “You never asked me if I stole this ship. I just said she’s not the one you’re looking for.”

“Then this ship is stolen.”

“Not exactly. Let’s say I negotiated a trade.”

I could tell Philip was having a difficult time putting my facts—my deliberately widely divergent facts—together. He was Fleet, like me. He liked his databoxes all stacked neatly in a row.

I plucked out the first box, opened it for him. “N.M.C. services Dafir and the rim, including Moabar.”

“I’m aware of that,” Philip snapped.

I opened the next one. It contained a small bomb. “I service the boys at N.M.C.. In exchange, I get work-release duty. It’s almost freedom.”

This time it was Philip’s face that showed disgust. “By all I hold holy, I never thought I’d see the day where Chaz Bergren would whore—”

“You have no idea what Moabar is like!” I shot to my feet, fists clenched. “Damn you, Philip. How dare you judge me.”

“I can and I will. I offered you a choice. You rejected it.”

“The court would never have believed—”

“They would have. Because I said so.” His mouth thinned. “It was your choice. You’d rather have Moabar than me. Or our child.”

“That wasn’t the problem—”

“No, you married me readily enough.”

“Because I loved you! You knew I was career Fleet. We’d agreed children were not in our plans. Five years later, when I’m up for a captaincy, suddenly you want to be a father. You weren’t willing to take leave, or a desk job and share the responsibility. So that means everything I’ve worked for stops. It would have been knock up Chaz, leave her on a starport and see you once a year, my darling!”

I was shaking, shouting at him. God, I thought I’d gotten over this.

From behind me on my right, was silence. Total silence. Verbally and mentally.

“I told you the child could be raised in a crèche. Then your career—”

“No child of mine would be raised in a damned crèche! With droid nannies, med-techs.

And a mother and father who are total strangers.” Not like Willym, poor thing.

“You’re being archaic. You’re just like your mother.”

“God damn right I am.” I glared at him. Amaris Bergren didn’t raise a fool for a daughter. I knew my fears. I grew up with them: crèche-kids, holos of lieutenant daddy and commander mommy on expensively furnished dormitory walls. That was the acceptable option in Fleet.

Breed and abandon. Check in once a year, pat it on the head, ship out.

“What would your mother say about her virtuous daughter’s record now?” Philip’s voice softened, but carried a bitter edge. “Convicted criminal. Murderer. Whore.” My hand clasped my Grizni bracelet, felt it tingle, ready, waiting. But Philip was just an image on the screen. I couldn’t hurt him. He couldn’t hurt me.

Then why did I feel such a pain in my heart?

Philip ran his hand over his face, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said just now.”

I took a deep breath. “Do you have an order for the seizure of this vessel, Captain Guthrie?”

“Chaz—”

“Do you?” I demanded. I had to push now. I had to force a resolution. Junot had to be wondering what was going on.

“I loved you. I still love you. It’s why I married you.”

“Do you have an order for the seizure of an N.M.C. transport vessel!” A heartbeat. Two. Three. I was presenting him with a legitimate out.

“No.”

One down. One to go.

“Philip, listen to me. You offered to lie for me, seven months ago. I turned you down. Yes, it was partly because I’m not cut out to be a mother. And if I were, I would never abandon a child to a crèche. But the other reason is that, with each lie, we become less and less a person. I am innocent of the charges against me. But I loved you too much to ask you to lie, even knowing that. You’re an exemplary officer. A fine man.”

“Chaz, we can—”

I held up my hand. “Listen, damn you! I wouldn’t have you lie for me then. I’m not asking you to lie for me, now. You have no seizure order on this ship. Therefore, by law, you can no longer detain her. You must let her go. The only issue then, is me.” I clasped my hands behind my back, stood in perfect military posture. “If you request that I be removed from the Far Rider, I will comply. Because of the nature of my… agreement with N.M.C., my papers won’t stand up to detailed inspection. But you cannot hold this ship. You must let her and this N.M.C. officer here go.”

“If I take you into custody,” he said quietly, “you know you could be returned to Moabar.”

“Yes.”

Philip shoved his hands in his pockets, stared down at his boots. Then back at me. “Other than your… agreement, N.M.C. is treating you well?”

“I’m at a stellar helm. You know that’s the only thing I’ve ever loved.” He rocked back on his heels. “More than me. Obviously.”

I waited. There was no answer to that. And nothing more to say. He had all the facts. He was a Fleet officer, like me. He’d make a decision, based on facts.

His shoulders sagged slightly. Then a small nod. He clasped his hands behind his back, straightened his stance. “You’re absolutely correct, captain. I have no seizure order on an N.M.C. P40. Please accept my apologies for detaining you and your crew. You may resume your previous course and heading. I will put out an advisory that you not be delayed again.” He saluted me, crisply.

I returned his salute, my heart pounding, my knees suddenly weak. “Thank you, captain.” My damn voice cracked.

He reached for the end-transmit tab but hesitated, his blue-eyed gaze searching. But there was nothing left to be said. It had all been over, five years ago.

The screen hazed, blanked. The starfield reappeared. I stepped back, shaking, and collapsed into the chair behind me. I jammed my finger at the armpad, opening intraship. “Ren! Get your ass on the bridge!”

I tabbed it off as I swung to face Sully. His hands were fisted on his knees, his obsidian eyes unreadable, fathomless. “Get us out of here, now!” I barked at him. “And while you’re at it, stay out of my goddamned mind!”

I turned abruptly away from him, raked my straps over my chest, then grabbed my armpad controls. I felt the shimmy of the sublights as they drew power, heard Ren step onto the bridge and heard the sharp clicks as he fastened his strap. The starfield moved off to my right as we pulled smoothly away from the Morgan Loviti.

I was angry, frightened and couldn’t stop shaking as I stared at the viewscreen then back down to my controls. Five minutes. Ten minutes. No one followed. Not Junot. Not Philip.

Ren’s voice in the background, talking softly into his headset, was the only noise on the bridge.

Fifteen minutes. My screen showed us at plus twenty. Specs be damned, we were moving.

I still shook. I couldn’t stop. But it was only me causing my pain.

Figures danced on my screen showing coordinates to the meet-point. Two days yet. Then we wait for Sully’s ship.

Sully. I crossed my arms at my waist. I couldn’t stop shaking.

Sully. What I’d felt. What I’d said. Stay out of my goddamned mind.

I’d meant it. Stars forgive me, but I’d meant it. And he knew that. When he’d invaded my mind I’d been shocked. It was like everything I’d read; it was like rape. A forced intrusion on my self, my soul.

This wasn’t the gentle sensations of a touch-empath. This was something else.

Mind-fuckers. We’d always called Stolorth Ragkirils mind-fuckers. Now I knew there were human mind-fuckers, too.

I heard Philip’s voice again. Kingswell, Lieutenant Paxton… Their minds viciously raped, all but destroyed.

Then another voice: Liar!

I had to get off the bridge. Everything I thought, everything I felt, I was sending. He was reading and, for all I knew, hearing. I pushed the armpad to my right, unlatched my straps.

Stood. “Captain’s off the bridge,” I announced. Stepped forward, turned left, toward Ren, not Sully. Looked at neither. Kept walking. Legs kept moving. Eyes focused on the corridor.

Stepped over the tread, didn’t fall on my face. Found my cabin door, hit the palm pad. Five more steps. Saw the bed. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t look at Sully’s jacket, hanging on the hook.

Just lowered myself onto the wide softness. Grabbed my pillow, clutched it to my chest and sat, hugging it.

Breathed. One in. One out. One in. One out.

Thought about faith. Betrayal. Philip. Sully.

Sully. A telepath. Even though I’d never known one before, I knew that’s what I’d felt in my mind. A Ragkiril. Who’d sensed my fear, my trepidation when I saw the Loviti and had to know why. Who’d raked my thoughts, found my private images of Philip and myself. Images he had no right to see. Images that I knew pained him and angered him.

And taught him that sometimes you don’t always like the answers to your questions.

I knew the feeling.

A Ragkiril. I was well acquainted with all of the Empire’s official prejudices. They’d been easy to accept because a Stolorth’s appearance was just different enough from humans. Us yet not us. A reason to hate. A reason to fear.

But I knew Ren, and those prejudices had dissolved.

Did I know Sully? Did I even know what Sully was?

Time passed. I knew it did because the clock told me, in little red numbers. I no longer felt totally shattered. Only mediumly wretched. Still confused. Still angry. A little less frightened.

And only mediumly wretched.

That was an improvement, and in less than two hours. Stars be praised.

I sat up and dropped the pillow behind me. I wiped my hands over my face. What happened, happened. It’s over. There are larger issues here. Marker. The Takas. The—My cabin door shooshed open.

My heart froze for a beat. When it restarted, I rested my elbows on my knees, my chin against my clasped hands and prayed that whoever came through the door was Ren. I was still sorting my thoughts, still examining my anger. I couldn’t face someone other than Ren. I couldn’t even think his name.

Footsteps came toward the bed. They hesitated, then continued. An arm’s length away, maybe two, and the footsteps stopped.

There was the silence of two people breathing. Then, “Chaz.” The voice was rasped, raw, but I recognized it.

Not Ren.

I responded quickly. “I’m sorry.” I was. I shouldn’t have spoken out as I had. Nothing had been gained by hurting him. I should’ve waited until I was calmer, and not angry at Philip, at myself. At him.

“No. You don’t, you shouldn’t be…” He took a deep breath. “Chaz. I’m sorry. It was wrong. What I did, I…”

His voice seemed to lose its energy. Silence resumed.

I stared at my knees, at the tips of my boots, at the Fleet-issue low pile carpeting on the floor. I could hear his breathing, harsh and ragged.

I ached all over. But the pain was all my own.

I opened my hands as if they might hold answers. But they were empty. I closed them, grasping nothing.

“I was very wrong,” he repeated softly.

I brought my gaze up. The pain in his voice was reflected in his face, in his stance. The shadows were back under his eyes. His mouth was tight. One arm was crossed over his chest, his hand cupping his elbow as if part of him were holding back, part of him reaching. “I would never hurt you.”

I nodded, listening now. Gabriel’s promise. He would never hurt me. Scare the hell out of me, yes. But never hurt me.

But how would he know what hurt me? When he stopped me from asking questions, he also stopped finding answers for himself. There’s a reason to ask questions, to gather data, to look at facts.

He could avoid that, if he wanted to. But I couldn’t. Not for myself. Not for the Takas.

“We have a lot of work to do yet,” I told him. “Ren has data on ships inbound to Marker. I want to go over it.”

“You don’t have to. You’re free to go.” He turned his hand, as if he wanted to reach for me but changed his mind. “I mean that. Once we intercept with the Karn, you’re free. This ship, ID, whatever you need. I won’t force you to stay. I won’t force you to work with me.”

“And jukors are born and Takas die, but it’s not Chaz’s problem any more? Didn’t you hear anything I said on the bridge?”

He leaned against the wall as if the force of my words had pushed him back.

“I’m not saying I know what those Taka females are going through. That’s an abomination.

But I do know what it’s like to be told you’re going to bear a child, or else. I could have had a very nice, comfortable life. With a well-respected, intelligent husband who loved me. Providing I was willing to give up everything that I was, everything I’d worked to become. And then raise a child in the same manner I would as… as a painting I’d loan out to a museum! There’d be my name, on a little thank-you plaque, and I could visit it for free whenever I liked.” I stood abruptly, swept one hand out. “The fact that my child might have needs, the fact that I might have needs was not to be considered. Others’ feelings be damned, Philip Guthrie would have what he wanted or he’d see me in divorce court. Well, guess what. He saw me in divorce court. And the wisdom I learned from that is this: be careful when someone says they care about you, only if. Only if you do what they want. Only if you ask no questions.” He closed his eyes briefly, shook his head. His lips parted as he started to speak.

I shook my head, too, and spoke before he could. “Did you think at all, Gabriel, before you ripped into my mind, just what my feelings might be? Did you stop to consider that?” I thrust my finger at him. “Or was your anger, your, I don’t know, petulant jealousy, your ego’s temper tantrum more important than anything else? More important than Ren’s life, your life?

Drogue’s, Clement’s and all we think is going on at Marker? And if that’s just a little too altruistic for you, was it more important than those promises you made, never to hurt me?” I shoved my way past him. At the bedroom door I turned, threw my hands out in exasperation. “How in hell would you know what hurts me? You never even bothered to ask.” Chapter Seventeen

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I sent Ren for a soak and a nap. He left the bridge, sensing, no doubt, I was in no mood for a discussion. I sat in my chair and played with the data on the ships flowing into Marker the past few weeks. It kept my mind off Sully’s pained expression when I’d stormed out of my cabin.

Our cabin.

We had two days yet to meet-point. I didn’t want to think how I felt about Gabriel’s bedtime stories. Or more. I had mental duro-hards filled with things I didn’t want to think about, and almost all were tagged with Sully’s name. Better to busy myself playing with data.

Marker was busy, too. Marker was always busy but ships came and went in the usual illogical patterns of repairs. You can’t schedule for when something breaks down or fails.

New ship production was different. That had a definite schedule. But I wasn’t looking at outgoing. I was looking at incoming.

I made a grid and stuck my data in. Then integrated the data Drogue had shown us on Chalford’s Lucky Seven, on our way up from Moabar. It took some time, but that was okay, because it kept my mind on a narrow track, kept it away from things I didn’t want to think about. Finally, it all came out to a nice fit. But only if you knew to look for it.

The Meritorious’s databanks were crammed with Imperial data. Not as much on Marker as I’d like, but some. I cross-referenced that with the newsbanks every ship grabbed from the beacons. Months, years of it had been stored in my ship and archived. A captain never knew whom she’d run across on patrol. Never knew what she might need to know about them.

It was standard operating procedure when I’d held command. Kingswell had been more lax. But enough was there. I was sure the Boru Karn held more.

I’d need that. One name, sometimes as a source of funding, sometimes as an advisory-concept group, kept drifting through my data. It was always an offhand mention, an annotation. Crossley Burke. I couldn’t place it, but I kept seeing it. I might not even have noticed it except years ago Crossley had been a company that produced virtual vid games, the kinds that every station brat hoarded credits to play in the arcade. They were popular when I was a teenager; they lost the market when holo-hybrid sims came out. I couldn’t tie in that Crossley with big money underwriting or with corporate idea farms.

I needed more data. I tapped a note to myself to that effect, tagged it to the file.

Then I went back to Ren’s most recent list of incoming. There was a sequence I’d missed earlier. Not surprising. And not just because it was near end of shift for me.

Sometimes those overfilled mental duro-hards make it tough to keep things straight.

The sequence contained division numericals coded to requisitions. Who, besides the receiving division, would need a list of incomings? It might relate to requisitions and authorizations, if these were shipments, and not repair. But it also might be another office in Marker that needed, for some mystical reason of its own, to know who was coming in, and when.

Five of the first eight tandem codes were the same. I dropped them out of the sequence and was entering them into my note-to-myself when I realized I knew them. And knew them well.

God, I was mediumly wretched not to recognize them.

Reports of these incoming were all sent in tandem to the office of Commander Thaddeus Lars Bergren. My beloved older brother.

“You’re off duty. I’ll take over.”

“Hmm?” A nervous quiver fluttered in my chest as I recognized his voice.

Sully waited on my right, hands clasped behind his back. I’d been preoccupied with the data on my screen and didn’t hear him come onto the bridge. Didn’t hear him come up to my chair.

His eyes were still shadowed. “I said I’ll take over. Ren will relieve me.”

“Right.” I knew that. I also knew that I always stayed an extra hour or two, shared tea or a meal with him. I didn’t mention that now. Neither did he.

I unlatched the harness and swung the armpad back. Then stopped while my hand was still on it. The fact that I was sorting out my feelings about him didn’t negate that he needed to know what I’d found in other matters. “I’ve been reexamining the data Ren pulled. There are a couple of things that need deeper work, but they’ll have to wait until we hook up with the Karn.”

I pushed out of the chair. “I also found something that doesn’t make sense.” Or maybe I didn’t want it to make sense. “Five of the ships that came in for repairs sent a duplicate notice of their arrival to an office that shouldn’t be concerned with such things. Thad’s office.” He thought for a moment. “He’s in the hierarchy. There could be a number of reasons why a confirmation would be sent there.”

“Absolutely. But they’re not coded for his division. They’re coded for his office. My brother’s office. His private trans file.”

“You have any idea why?”

“Not in the slightest. But I will find out.”

“I know,” he said softly. “That why I chose you. You’re the best interfering bitch around.”

“No, in the universe, Sullivan. Remember that.” I headed for the corridor. “The best interfering bitch in the universe.”

Sleep didn’t come right away. I stared at Sully’s jacket hanging on the wall. I didn’t realize until I’d flopped down on the bed that part of my mind wondered if it would still be there. If he’d moved his clothes out, taken another cabin. Gotten out of more than just my mind.

Of course, he may have done just that and forgotten the jacket, left it behind in his haste. I could get up out of bed, rummage through his closet and the drawers. I could collect my data, find my answer.

But the answer I sought wouldn’t be found in his closet. I knew that.

So I lay there and stared at his jacket until my eyelids felt too heavy to stay open.

I woke an hour before I was to start my shift. The spicy, pungent aroma of coffee greeted me. A hot mug was on my bedside table. Other than that, the cabin was empty.

Someone had brought me coffee. I didn’t know if it had been Sully or Ren until I picked up the mug. An angel of heart-stars card was propped up behind it.

He should’ve been off duty a few hours ago. But the coffee was hot. Maybe he’d moved his things to another cabin while I slept.

My hand hovered over the latch to his closet then pulled back. I turned and padded to the shower. Some things I can wait to learn. And some things, I realized, maybe I didn’t want to know.

The coffee was still warm when I came out. I gulped it down and in between gulps, pulled on clean clothes.

“Captain’s heading for the bridge.” I waited, wanting to hear that typical Sully rejoinder,

‘Hell’s ass. There goes our card game.’

But all I heard was Ren’s soft: “Acknowledged.”

It wasn’t the same.

Sully accepted my thanks for the coffee with a soft, gentle gaze and a slight shrug. I didn’t mention the card.

He didn’t bring up our argument. But he and Ren had been playing cards. He only stayed on the bridge long enough to lose another two thousand credits, then left. He was keeping his distance from me. I didn’t know if it was because he thought that’s what I wanted. Or if it was because that’s what he wanted.

I didn’t know why he’d left the heart-stars card. Maybe I should’ve mentioned it. Maybe I should be putting different colors into my rainbow.

Maybe, if I got up the courage, I’d ask Ren.

We were about two shifts from meet-point. I went back to working the data but found nothing new. Ren went over it as well. We played with some theories about the confirmations sent to Thad’s office, but Ren didn’t have Sully’s knowledge of Marker. He did, however, have some knowledge of Sully.

“He’s stopped reading you. He’s afraid to know what you feel.” I leaned wearily on the armrest. “He should have told me he’s a telepath.”

“He’s been trying to. It’s not easy for him.”

I knew he’d been showing me things in small ways. I thought of how he’d echoed my thoughts when we were on Moabar; his comment about boot camp, his taunt about sibling rivalry with Thad. His ability to know when I was thinking of that night in Port Chalo.

But there were other times when he’d seemed unaware of what I was thinking at all.

Selectivity, Ren had told me in his quarters on Moabar Station.

“Peeking,” I said to Ren. “He’s been peeking into my thoughts off and on.”

“And mine, as long as I’ve known him. But it’s not something I fear as you do.” I’d picked up on the way Ren gave answers before Sully voiced questions. I’d ignored that, or rather didn’t want to face what that might mean. It didn’t fit easily into one of my databoxes. “I’m not afraid—”

His slight tilt of his head stopped me. Empath. Who could sense emotions but not their reasons.

“Okay. I have fears. But I’m not afraid of him. I don’t view him as some sort of soul-stealing demon.” Like the painting in Drogue’s monastery.

“Then what are your fears, Chasidah?”

“Ignorance. What I don’t understand. Mistakes I can make because of that. Like I’ve already made. Because I can’t ask questions, find out what he’s thinking, feeling. That’s the advantage he has with me, that I don’t with him.” That’s how he knew I was attracted to him, wanted to comfort him after we’d learned Captain Milo had been killed. That’s how he knew when I was ready to make love to him the first time. “All I can do is guess. He ought to try it sometime. Feel what it’s like to be unsure of why someone’s with you.”

“He knows that now. He’s stopped reading your resonances since the incident with the Morgan Loviti. He’s cut himself off from that part of himself, as much as he can. I’ve told him I don’t agree. But he said that’s the only way you won’t be afraid of him, of what he can do. But it’s also teaching him, I think, what uncertainty feels like. It’s a lesson he needs to learn.” Ren flipped off his straps. “Just don’t make it too harsh a lesson for him, Chasidah. Because he learned, long ago, what it feels like to be hurt.”

Ren went off duty with a promise to come back before my shift ended.

Then it was just me and my ship and the starfield in front of me. No more bogies. Thank you, Philip. I picked up the usual traffic in the freighter lanes on the scanners, ran the usual systems checks. And I wondered what Thad was doing watching certain incomings at Marker.

That was a grunt’s job. Not second in command in the shipyards.

I wondered what Thad would say if he knew I was sleeping with a mind-fucker, human variety. Yet another disgrace Chaz has brought to the Bergren name, probably.

Marrying Philip was the only correct decision I’d ever made, according to Thad. Divorcing Philip was proof that I was just like my mother.

She’d divorced my father when I was two. Thad was four. The court split us. Lars got Thad, put him into a crèche on Baris Seven. Amaris got me, put me in a playpen in the corner of her office on Marker.

Amaris was career Fleet, but had always been nontraditional. She would’ve liked Ren. She definitely would’ve liked Sully. She wasn’t a woman who scared easily.

I hoped Philip and Thad were right. I hoped I was just like my mother.

Intraship trilled. Ren’s voice. “I am heading for the bridge. Can I bring you tea, coffee?”

“You’re early. I have two hours to go yet.”

“I’m awake. Tired of soaking. And I enjoy doing my meditations on the quiet of the bridge, where I can feel the stars.”

“All right, all right. I know when I’m not wanted. Come take watch. And thanks, but no.

No tea or coffee. I had dinner an hour ago.”

Ren and a mug of tea arrived a few minutes later. I vacated my chair and watched as he settled in it. That was something else that would make Thad’s lip curl. A Stolorth raised by Takas in the command sling of an Imperial P40.

Ren set his tea down, angled his head, reading me. “You are more peaceful, happier now, Chasidah.”

My rainbows were improving. “I was just thinking about how much you don’t remind me of my brother.”

“I would imagine I’m very different from Thaddeus.”

“Praise the stars for that, Ren.” I patted his shoulder, let my hand rest long enough to absorb a much-needed warmth, and left the bridge.

My cabin was empty, the lights dimmed as I’d left them. The bed was neatly made, quite possibly just as I’d left it. I didn’t know if Sully had been in, napped or moved out altogether. I was about to open his closet, find an answer maybe it was time I faced when I noticed the message light flashing on my deskscreen.

I sat and fingered a new angel of heart-stars card propped against it while I read.

Chasidah. Angel. Gabriel has lost his words. They have all fled, shamed to be in his company. He’s left now with only a few, simple ones. They are inadequate. They cannot begin to convey all that he feels. But they are all he has.

Chasidah. Angel. Gabriel is sorry. Gabriel is sorry. Gabriel is sorry.

Chasidah. Angel. The grievous wrong isn’t as much in the questions Chasidah couldn’t ask. But in the only real truth that Gabriel could tell, and did not.

Chasidah. Angel. Gabriel loves you beyond all measure. That is the only real truth.

I stared at the screen, elbows on my desk, my hands cupped over my mouth. My heart hammered, ached.

He was right. He’d never told me he loved me. In the past two weeks he’d told me I was wicked, I was beautiful, I was wild, I was delightful. I was his obsession, his fantasy, his best interfering bitch.

His angel.

He’d caressed me, coddled me and held me. He’d made me warm, hot, crazy, passionate and delirious. He’d made me feel safe, respected, honored.

He made me his lover. He made me his friend.

And he’d tried to tell me, if only I’d been listening, that he was more than an empath. But I didn’t want to know.

Just as Philip knew, when he married me, I was career Fleet. He knew I abhorred the crèches. But he’d rejected that, when it became inconvenient. Rejected me, hurt me.

Sully hadn’t hurt me. He’d shared his anger and pain and fear with me in a fashion far more intimate than I was used to. Perhaps even inappropriately. But he hadn’t hurt me, hadn’t stripped my mind, altered it.

He could have. He also possibly could have taken command of the Meritorious away from me before I opened the vidlink to Philip. With a touch. With a thought. I’d heard stories of things like that happening during the war.

But he hadn’t. Angry and afraid, he’d waited, trusting that I’d do nothing to hurt him.

I sat and thought about that. I picked up the card again.

A dangerous man, Gabriel Ross Sullivan. An undeniably handsome bastard. But I couldn’t imagine life without that wicked, wicked Sully-grin. Risks and all.

I found him in the small ready-room, sitting in semi-darkness. A mug of tea was in front of him, still full, but no steam rose. No fragrance wafted in the air.

I moved the mug when I sat on the edge of the table. It was cold. So was his hand when he took mine. No warmth, no spirals, not even a flutter danced up my arm. It was as if everything that Gabriel was, was gone.

Except for the dark, haunted look in his eyes. Which was something we had to discuss, something I had to face, before we could go any farther.

“You’re a telepath. Like a Ragkiril.”

“Yes.”

“This is what you didn’t want me to know.”

He nodded. “I don’t want you to be afraid of what I am.”

“Then you should’ve told me, not just gone ripping apart my memories—”

“I lost control. That’s never happened to me before.” His voice was rough. His shoulders hunched tiredly. “At least, not in a very long time. But I was… reading such anger, such fear in you. I knew there wasn’t time for questions. I reacted stupidly. Didn’t even realize what I’d done until I was there. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You’ve apologized. I accept that.”

He sat up a little straighter, hopeful. His fingers curled more tightly into mine.

“I also know you could’ve done more than just view my mental scrapbook. But you didn’t.

I appreciate your trust in me, that I had a workable plan. Even if it made you angry.”

“I didn’t like your plan because I found out Guthrie was your husband. That you loved him. I stopped there. I thought then that you wanted to go with him, on the Loviti. I never knew you were divorced until you told me, later.” His mouth tightened. “I’m still not sure the divorce was something you wanted.”

“I wanted Philip’s options less.” I offered my other hand, squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

No way to send warm tingles now. “Remember Port Chalo?”

A small smile played across his mouth then faded. “I waited for you to come back. I scared you away then, too.”

“I scared me away. The transmit waiting for me back on board was the finalization of my divorce. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to go back to that bar and have you kiss me senseless. But I also didn’t want to wake in the morning and find out I’d been just another drunken fling. That you wouldn’t even have remembered my name. I couldn’t have faced that.

Or myself. Or you.”

“I wasn’t drunk. You should’ve come back.”

I slid to my feet, tugged on his hands. “I’m here, now.”

He drew me against him as he stood. “I’d still like to try kissing you senseless.”

“My cabin or yours?”

He hesitated. “I hope mine is still yours.”

“It is.”

He started unbuttoning my shirt in the corridor, tossed his own on the couch as the cabin door closed behind us. I kicked off my boots and climbed into the middle of the bed.

He pulled me down next to him. His arms closed tightly, almost desperately, around my back, over my hair that I’d unbound. I splayed my hand against his spine, my nose nuzzled against in his chest. I could feel his heart pounding.

But nothing more. Just the weight of his arms, the pressure of his mouth against my face as he brushed my cheek, my lips, my chin with gently fervent kisses. And I felt my own very deep ache. But nothing more. He was staying out of my mind, out of my senses. Totally.

Because of my fears, and his.

Because I’d ordered him to. A good captain knows when to rescind an order. I placed my lips almost against his. “Sully. It’s okay. Chasidah loves Gabriel, too.” There was a small intake of breath, then a question as he let the breath out again. “You’re sure?” “Yes.” Warmth cascaded, surging. Warmth, cresting into heat. Warmth, cleansing, curing, healing.

Melting pain, melting aches. Spreading, flowing, gentling, caressing, lifting, cradling.

Needing. Kneading. Stroking, skin, lips, fingers. Touch. Clothes. Come. Off. Heat, skin slicking, soft, hard, wanting, giving, claiming. Ecstasy. Warmth. Surrounding. Cradling.

Gentling. Holding. Hands clasping. Mine. Mine. Love.