Chapter 10
You said you'd answer truthfully.
Oh, Gods, shut up, Simon! The man just, he just, Mack just... Oh Gods. He wants to marry me?
"I know this must seem sudden." Mack's voice was soft, almost apologetic.
Gillie closed her mouth, hoped it hadn't been hanging open for a noticeably long length of time. Then she decided it must have been. Because her voice was gone. It had escaped - fled through her stupidly gaping mouth like a starfreighter ejected from a station bay.
"We've only known each other for a week," he continued, "but I think I realized the first day I met you that you were the most incredible woman to ever come into my life. Gillie, you probably don't believe me." His thumb traced the edge of her hand. A little trill of pleasure flowed up her arm. "I don't expect you to. I don't even know if you feel what I feel. I hope, given time..."
He glanced at their intertwined fingers. "Time's something I'm not sure we have," he said, looking back up at her. "That's why I had to tell you what I feel, what my intentions are. Because when your ship's repaired it's doubtful I'll see you again. Unless I give you a reason to stay."
"But..." She closed her mouth. She couldn't say what needed to be said: but you don't know me. You don't know who I am. What I am. What I've done. What your damned culture thinks I've done and then set up shrines and temples all over the place because of it.
"I know we've had some misunderstandings," Mack said.
"That was my fault." Besides, that was the easy part. Two people, overtired and overwrought, were bound to have words. Short tempers.
The hard part was something Mack didn't know.
Maybe something he didn't have to know.
That thought jolted her. What if...what if she spent the rest of her life here, being just Gillie? Not the Kiasidira. Not a Raheiran Sorceress. Not anyone's Goddess or consort. Not even a captain in the Raheiran Special Forces. But just...Gillie. Just Gillie and Mack.
Could she do that? Nobody had recognized her. She looked different from her official holo. And other than that piece of her ship, there wasn't a single shard of real crystal on station that would reveal the truth. The Khalar weren't mageline; no one would sense her Raheiran lineage. Her own people no doubt had accepted her death over three hundred years ago.
She had no reason to go home. She had every reason to stay here. With Mack.
Gods. Could she?
"The misunderstandings weren't your fault." His fingers caressed hers again. "I was so unprepared for what I felt when I met you. It scared me. At first, I thought you couldn't have come at a worse time in my life. Then I realized I was wrong, totally wrong. You came at exactly the right time. The Fifth Fleet, Cirrus One, it's all going to be something to be proud of. Very proud of. I want to share that with you. I want you there with me when it happens."
Her heart melted at his words, flowed through her essence like sweet, molten honey. He wanted her with him. And she wanted so very much to be with him, to share with him. To be part of everything in his life.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Her voice caught in her throat. "Oh, Mack."
"I love you, Gillie. Just give me some time to prove it to you."
He... he loves me?
I told you so.
Gillie ignored Simon's gloating, undeniably smug voice in her mind. She threw her arms around Mack's neck, fully intending to kiss him fiercely. He evidently had similar thoughts and met her halfway. Mouths fused, passions flared. Somewhere in the middle of it all, the droid server deposited their drinks on the low table, and wisely and discreetly departed.
Gillie drank in Mack's kisses instead, explored the soft thickness of his hair with her fingers. Traced the rough edge of his jaw with her thumb then kissed him again.
The heat of his emotions suffused through her. She knew if she were to drop her empathic barriers the entire club would probably sizzle brighter than a power grid backwash.
He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids, the edge of one ear, then found the soft spot at the base of her throat as she arched against him.
Her fingers clutched the smooth fabric of his uniform jacket, and it occurred to her that clothes were damned inconvenient sometimes.
But this was the officers' club on Level Upper 9 of Cirrus Station. Clothes were necessary.
Mack seemed to realize that, too. He pulled back slowly from where she rested against the cushions. His face was flushed, his breathing hard and raspy. "Gillaine-"
She put one finger over his lips, silencing him. "We have time."
Beneath her fingertip, his mouth spread into a wide grin.
* * *
Mack couldn't remember ever feeling like this before. His good mood was totally unshakable. Not Hebbs's narrow-eyed glare at 0800 in Ops, not Magefather Rigo's righteous blustering in his office twenty minutes later, not three short and unproductive conversations with the senator an hour after that caused the smile on his face to waver one inch.
She hadn't said no. Well, truth be told, Gillie hadn't said yes, either. But she hadn't said no and she'd kissed him, Gods how she'd kissed him! And said they had time, together.
That's all he wanted right now. A chance. Not to have to rush a relationship, cram it into two weeks. His deadline in getting Fifth Fleet operational was tough enough. But that he knew how to do, knew what shortcuts would work, what patches would hold for now.
He didn't want things to be that way with Gillie. He didn't want this to be just another brief affair, a lover left behind in a spaceport. He'd had those, found them uniquely unsatisfying. He didn't want that with Gillie.
His inbox icon flashed. He tabbed up the report from the Vedritor he'd been waiting for, glancing at the time stamp on his screen. Two hours to lunch. Two hours until he'd see Gillie. officers' mess, he'd told her, in a brief conversation from his apartment this morning before he'd headed to Ops. He still had no vidlink with her ship's comm pack; something he'd have to work on. He wanted to see her smile, see the sparkle in her eyes.
For now, that would have to wait until lunch. He turned his attention, not without a small twinge of reluctance, to Adler's report.
Temporary personnel reassignments had gone smoothly. The analysis of the crystal section was completed, and a report had been forwarded to HQ on Traakhalus. That would get the senator off his back for awhile. Mack knew his science team, that is, Adler's science team, was very thorough.
He snagged a copy of the report, downloaded it to his personal datapad. He'd give that to Tobias when they met later this afternoon.
His office door pinged. The ID strip overhead showed his CMO waiting on the other side. He tabbed off the lock. "Still no word on those supplies," he said as Janek stepped inside. His CMO's lab coat looked somewhat threadbare. Mack could see the medalytics scanner in Janek's coat pocket was wrapped in tape.
He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. "The only thing I can offer you right now is coffee."
Janek sat, grinning, then crossed his long legs as the door slid shut behind him. "I hear one of our most impregnable defense grids has been breached."
Mack immediately stiffened, shot a glance at his deskscreen for any red-coded advisory. Nothing flashed. No alarms wailed. He frowned. "What?"
"Not what. Who."
"Who?"
Janek's grin broadened. "It's all over station that Make It Right Makarian was involved in a pretty heavy make-out session on the dance-"
"Oh, shit." Mack leaned back in his chair, wiped his hand across his face. But he was still smiling when he sat forward again. "My goal was the officers' club. We were sort of sidetracked before we got there."
"You're usually not so indiscreet."
Mack heard the undercurrents of disapproval in Janek's voice. They'd known each other for a long time. Janek had also pegged Hebbs's parasitical nature before Mack had-had warned him, week one, on Cirrus. It hadn't been until week three that Mack had seen the painful truth in his friend's words. "It's not like that."
Janek's arched eyebrow signaled his unspoken question.
"Last night wasn't indiscretion. It was..." He thought for a moment. Of course it had been an indiscretion. A Fleet officer's private life was meant to be private. And a Fleet officer's flings were encouraged to be as invisible as possible. Except this wasn't a fling. "It wasn't an indiscretion," he repeated. "It was an announcement."
"Of?"
"I asked Gillie to marry me."
Janek stared at him. His mouth hung open then closed quickly. He uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You're serious. This is serious."
"Yes."
"You just met-"
"I know." He waved his hand as if to brush away Janek's objection. "And if I didn't do something, she'd be gone in two weeks when her ship's repaired."
"So you're marrying her to keep her here?"
"She didn't say yes. But I don't think she'll be leaving right away, either."
"That ship of hers belongs to her cousin's transport firm. I think they'd want it back."
Mack shrugged. "I might be able to get someone to tow it. Or maybe they'll send someone to ferry it. Hell, considering the shape it's in, it might just be better to junk it and sell it as scrap."
"She's agreed to this?"
"We haven't discussed it. But I doubt it'd be a problem."
Janek shook his head slightly. "After all these years, I never thought we'd be having this conversation. You, so serious over a woman." He pointed one finger at Mack. "I repeat. You've only known her a short time. Are you sure her affection toward you isn't based on her need for dock space for her ship?"
"She's not another Hebbs. Believe me. Gillie is exactly what she appears to be. A warm, intelligent, vivacious young woman. A hardworking, honest freighter captain. Nothing more. Nothing less."
"And you're in love with her."
"Doc, it's almost like she's an answer to my prayers. She couldn't be any more perfect for me than if the Lady had sent Gillie to me herself."
That was, Mack thought as he hurried down the corridor to the officers' mess, not a totally unlikely possibility. The Lady was Fleet's patroness. And he had, in every way he could, tried to live an ethical and honorable life. The only lack he'd ever felt had been a personal one. But he'd accepted that was part of a career in Fleet.
Still, there'd been moments the emptiness had gnawed at him. Though not anymore. His answer to his unspoken prayers waited for him outside the doors to the mess.
He felt that damned idiotic grin claim his face. "Hi."
"Hi, yourself."
He stared down at her, damning discretion as he fought the urge to kiss her again. Knew it was safer just to guide her to the buffet line inside. There'd be time, plenty of time, for kisses later.
A few heads turned as they found a table by the wall. But that was one of the reasons why he'd asked her to lunch in the more populated mess.
An announcement. Rynan Makarian was making an announcement. This lady is mine.
"I saw last night's news conference on the newsvids this morning," she said as she stirred her coffee. "Are you really going to give the magefather half a level for this shrine he wants?"
"If it were solely up to me, no." That had been part of the purpose behind Magefather Rigo's visit this morning. The magefather wanted Mack's support, one hundred percent. Even with the Lady's latest blessing sitting not six inches away from him, Mack didn't feel he could do that. But then, as he told Gillie, it wasn't solely up to him. "Fleet doesn't own Cirrus One. We've appropriated a portion under Section 36-A-1 of our laws as required for military use. But the majority of Cirrus One is still under the auspices of CQPA. And self-governing. If stationers vote, and they can call for a vote, to grant property to the shrine, I can't stop them. They just can't take property away from the portion already allocated for Fleet use."
"But you don't want it here."
"I don't think a major military installation and a major religious site necessarily make good neighbors." He'd said that, repeatedly, last night. "For security reasons, if nothing else."
Gillie nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Tourists can end up in the damndest places."
"Well put, my lady."
Her spoon slipped through her fingers, splashed down into her coffee mug. She jerked back, as if startled.
Mack's napkin was already in his hand, but the damage was minimal.
"Sorry," she was saying as he offered the napkin to her. "Sorry."
"Did the coffee burn you?"
"No, I just, it's nothing." She smiled, flexed her fingers. "After hours of holding an optic diffuser, my hand sometimes cramps."
He knew what that was like. "There's no reason to push on repairs." Not now.
"I think Fleet might want to see some progress. I am in their bay."
"My bay," he corrected. "I'm Fleet here. And I very selfishly would like to keep you around for as long as I can."
Footsteps behind him came closer. Mack looked over his shoulder as Pryor sidled between two tables. The white-haired man nodded but hesitated. Mack waved him over.
"Lieutenant, this is Captain Gillaine Davré. Gillie, Lieutenant Tarrance Pryor. One of the Vedritor's best whose loyalty overrode common sense when he agreed to be part of my permanent staff here."
Gillie extended her hand. "Glad to meet you, Lieutenant."
Mack noticed Pryor wasn't immune to Gillie's smile, or the genuine warmth in her voice. "Captain. A pleasure. A real pleasure. I need to borrow the admiral. I promise to return him to you later, none the worse for the wear."
Gillie's responding chuckle was infectious. Pryor laughed, too.
Mack touched Gillie's arm as they rose. "I've nothing scheduled late this afternoon." Barring the usual crisis, he thought. "Come by my office, end of main shift? We'll go for a drink."
"Want me to call first?"
He knew he'd be on the Vedri just before that. She wouldn't be able to reach him. Not until she had the confirmed clearances. As his wife.
By Ixari's eyes, he liked the sound of that.
"If I'm late, it shouldn't be more than ten minutes."
"If he's later than that," Pryor intoned, "I'll come take you for a drink myself, Captain."
He shot Pryor a warning look as Gillie turned away.
"Only kidding, boss." Pryor's mustache twitched.
"Parrot duty, Lieutenant. I could put you on parrot duty."
"He'll be on time, Captain. Don't you worry about that."
* * *
You're going to be late, My Lady. Leave that for tomorrow.
"I've almost got the connection. Just a few more minutes." Gillie squinted at the jumble of optic feeds in the maintenance panel, centered the diffuser, and gently and carefully traced the hairline crack that ran along a thin feedline.
You need to shower. Change.
"I'm almost there." Her hand shook slightly. She hadn't lied to Mack about the cramps in her fingers from the almost nonstop repair work she'd been doing. But that hadn't been the reason she'd dropped her spoon.
My Lady. Even though he'd said "my lady" she'd heard it with a capital M and capital L and for a moment, her heart had plummeted. She thought he knew who she was, and if he did, she knew she'd lose him.
That thought made her heart do more than sink. It made it feel agonizingly tight and achingly cold at the same time. Mack was incredibly, incredibly special to her. More than special. When she dared to think about it, as she had after he'd kissed her good night last night, she'd admit she was falling in love with him.
But she didn't want to dare to think about it. Didn't want to rush it. There were still too many things that could go wrong. And she didn't want to experience the terrible pain she knew she'd feel when she lost him.
Something whispered that that was still very much in the range of possibilities.
If you show up at his office sweaty and filthy it becomes a greater possibility.
"Stuff a sock in it, Simon. I'm going. I'm going!" She shoved the diffuser back in her utility belt and pulled herself off the corridor floor with a groan.
* * *
She was leaning on the atrium railing, watching the parrots change shifts, when she heard a noise behind her. Not footsteps; there were too many of those in the open corridor competing with the noises floating up and down the atrium. But something that sounded like a grunt, and a low curse.
Not Mack. In spite of Simon's dire predictions, she was early. Main shift had more than ten minutes yet. She turned, saw a muscular young man in an officer's uniform standing awkwardly in front of Mack's office door. He held a metal case in his arms and tried to juggle that and hit the palmpad at the same time.
She waited for a group of orange-suited techs to pass then swiftly crossed the corridor. The door opened just as she reached him. Had Mack arrived, unseen?
She followed him into the office and only as the door closed behind her realized Mack wasn't inside.
"Oh, sorry," she said.
The man spun around, clearly startled. The case tumbled from his arms, crashed to the floor.
"Gods," he said. "Goddess!" He dropped to his knees in front of the open case, its contents strewn across the carpet.
"I didn't mean to scare you. I'm waiting for Mack-for Admiral Makarian." Gillie knelt, reached for one of the glistening objects between them. And stopped.
It glowed brightly, pulsing a delicate purple hue.
Crystal. Raheiran crystal.
She raised her gaze to the man in front of her. Two stars, lieutenant's stars, dotted the front of his black shirt. His dark hair was closely shorn. He stared at her, his lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly.
Between them, the purple glow became stronger. She could feel it sensing her, even though she was shielded.
But not shielded enough.
"Goddess," the young man said again, and she realized now it wasn't a curse. His voice was filled with awe; his gaze on her, unwavering. "My Lady Kiasidira."
Shit.