Chapter 11
Fear raced through Gillie. What if Mack walked in to find his officer babbling about Lady Kiasidira, shards of crystal pulsing around her? "I'm not, really, I-"
"I understand. I'm an Impure. Not worthy to see you."
"That's ridiculous. You're worthy. Fine." Damn! That wasn't what she meant to say but she was so unused to being worshipped.
He nodded slowly. "It's like you just stepped out of the Sacred Holovid. You're even wearing the same clothes."
Same clothes? She'd grabbed her favorite green scoop-necked sweater and a pair of black slinkies. And what holovid? Her mind was still locked on the newsvid of Mack and Magefather Rigo. Not that vid. One with-
Herself, in the green sweater. She'd bought it to wear at Ethan's birthday at the Legacy, just outside the spaceport. A bunch of drunk Tracer pilots and Captain Gillaine, Kiasidira, Davré. In the same green sweater. With the same short haircut. And Sarge, from spaceport security, drunk as the rest of them, with a holovid cam, capturing it all.
She sat back on her heels. She'd thought her official holo was the only image of her out there, felt reassured because the resemblance wasn't strong. But a holovid, shot a week, ten days before she'd fought the Fav'lhir in the Rift! How many other people had seen it? How many other people would recognize her? Mack hadn't. Mack.
Dear Gods. She had to get control of this situation, of this young man gazing in rapt adoration in front of her. She grabbed the two shards of crystal. Their power pulsed through her, sang to her. She recognized them immediately as part of her ship, though their spellforms were mangled. Purple light misted up her arms as she shoved them back into the case. She slammed the lid shut with more force than was required. Her hands shook.
"You're angry, My Lady."
"No." Just scared. Calm down, she told herself. She made a quick mental sweep of the corridor beyond the door, didn't sense Mack. Quickly, she sought Simon, something she should have done five minutes ago.
He's still on the Vedritor, My Lady. I'll keep watch.
She blessed Simon, praised Ixari, Tarkir and Merkara and threw in a list of minor deities just for good measure. Then she let out a long breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "I'm not angry. Just a bit unsettled at the moment, Lieutenant...?"
"Tobias. Fitch Tobias, your devoted servant." He bowed his head.
She touched his arm. "I don't need servants. But I really am in need of a friend. A heartfriend."
"My Lady, I'm not worthy-"
"Fitch." She tightened her grasp on his arm. "You're wonderful. You're worthy. You're fine. And please stop calling me My Lady."
"Goddess Kiasidira."
"Not that either!"
"Instruct me. I await-"
"Gillie. Just Gillie."
He hesitated. "Gillie?"
"Gillie," she repeated. "Gillaine Davré."
This time his hesitation was slightly longer. "That's the name of Admiral Mack's girlfriend."
Who is on his way, My Lady.
Oh, damn. Oh, hell. She sucked in a deep breath. "Mack doesn't know who I am."
Amazement flooded Tobias's features. "Then you are-"
"Gillie Davré. That's the only way Mack knows me. That's the only way anyone here knows me."
"Because you're on a secret mission. Involving the admiral. To help us, again."
Sounds good to me. And your devoted friend there seems to like it.
"Yes, yes, yes." She stood, tugging Tobias to his feet, which wasn't easy. The man was like a solid brick.
"I shouldn't be standing in your presence."
"You will stand in my presence. You will call me Gillie. If you can't manage that, try Captain Davré. You will not call me Lady or Kiasidira or anything remotely resembling that. And you will tell no one, and I mean absolutely no one, who I really am. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?"
That finally did it. It was the tone of command ingrained in her through her military training, the thin line of her mouth, the firm set of her shoulders as she pinned him with a hard gaze she hadn't used since she first set foot in the Khalaran Confederation six years, no. Three hundred and forty some odd years ago. And knew that if she didn't somehow get their scattered, bickering military forces, and motley, patchwork technology in shape, the Khalar were going to be vandalized and absorbed by the greedy and relentless Melandan mages controlling the Fav'lhir.
Gods. No wonder she felt such a kinship with Mack. They were both doing the same job.
Mack. The lock on the door behind her cycled with a click. She spun around, kicked the metal case hard with her heel. There was an audible, sharp intake of breath behind her. It had probably smacked Tobias in the ankle, she realized with a sympathetic wince.
She hoped the lieutenant understood her real message: Get rid of it. And whatever you do, don't open it while I'm around.
The door whooshed sideways. Gillie sensed two things immediately. Mack was very glad to see her. And not so glad to find her locked in his office with Fitch Tobias.
"Been waiting long?" Mack asked.
"Only a few minutes."
"No, sir."
Gillie gritted her teeth as Tobias's denial ran over her words. The two of them sounded positively guilty.
Mack's gaze went over her shoulder, then down. "That's for Magefather Rigo?"
She knew what he referred to. The case with the crystal shards. She stepped as casually as she could toward his desk, as if the case and its contents concerned her not at all, couldn't affect her in the least. Couldn't change her life, rip her heart out. Make a liar of her.
No, worse. Make a Goddess out of her.
Tobias retrieved the case, shot a quick glance at Gillie before he answered. "You requested I leave it in your office."
"Not on the floor."
"That was an accident, sir."
Mack frowned. "What kind of accident?"
Don't open it. Dear Gods, don't open that case!
"Nothing, sir."
"Lieutenant..."
"It fell." Tobias glanced at the case almost as if to reassure himself it was still in his arms, and in one piece.
Look, but don't open, Gillie pleaded. Do. Not. Open. She edged further back against the desk.
"But it didn't fall far," Tobias added hurriedly. "Everything's fine. I checked."
Don't open it. Don't open it. Don't open it.
She gave Mack a bright smile when he turned to her. "Everything's fine." Just don't open the Gods-damned case!
"Bring it here." He motioned to his desk as he headed for his chair. "You know what's in there?" he asked Gillie.
"Crystal. Like the runesellers have." She backed away from the desk, still smiling.
His mouth thinned slightly. He nodded at Tobias. "Had there been anyone other than Captain Davré in here when you opened this, you'd be facing a serious breach of security. I'm sure you know that."
"Yes, sir. It won't happen again, sir."
Mack's features relaxed, but he kept one hand on top of the case. "If there's nothing else, Lieutenant, you're free to go."
"Thank you, sir." He gave a tight bow. "A pleasant evening to you. And you, My La CaptainGillieDavré." His last words moved almost as quickly as his boots.
"I may be working him too hard." Mack drummed his fingers on top of the case.
Gillie's face ached from smiling. "Oh?"
"He's usually not that jumpy. Something..." He shook his head as if arguing with himself, then patted the case. "Not something. This. His parents are with the temple. He's almost fanatically devoted to Lady Kiasidira."
"I hadn't noticed."
A rude noise sounded through her mind. Simon's snort of disbelief.
"Good thing I showed up when I did, or he would've worked hard on converting you. Especially with the pieces from the Lady's ship in here." He fingered the lock.
Gillie wondered how she'd later explain it if she were suddenly forced to bolt for the door.
"You saw the crystal?" Mack asked.
"Yes." Don't open it. Don't open it.
"This isn't what you've seen out there, in those kiosks. This is," he tapped the lock, "extraordinary." There was a noted reverence in his tone and for a moment his gaze seemed unfocused, distant. Gillie winced internally at his devotion.
"I know true crystal gives off a purple color when touched by a Raheiran," Mack continued. "But I never really believed it until I saw Magefather Rigo handle these pieces. I know he says he's only partly Raheiran, not a true one. But I saw the crystals glow."
Impossible. The word jumped into her mind so clearly, for a moment she was afraid she'd shouted it out loud. The crystals glowed when the magefather, that fat pompous charlatan, touched them? Impossible. She would've known. Simon would've known.
It had to be a trick. Some light source, perhaps in a ring or a bracelet or a watch. She'd seen runesellers attempt that. But the light was always uneven or too concentrated. Easily discerned as a fake.
Mack wasn't the kind of man to be taken in by trickery. But there was no other logical explanation. Unless...
Unless Rigo had a Melandan heritage. A Fav'lhir. Crystal would respond to someone with a Melandan mageline, though very faintly. And they'd have to be touching it.
"Ready for that drink?" Mac asked, standing.
A Melandan wizard. It never occurred to her the Fav'lhir might already be here on Cirrus One. She'd never thought to check. Not that she was in a position to take any immediate actions if they were.
Go get that drink. I'll see what I can learn.
Be careful, Simon. Dear Gods, be very, very careful.
She took Mack's offered hand. "I could use a drink right about now."
"Tough day?"
No. Tough couple of centuries.
* * *
The officers' club was considerably more crowded than it had been last night, but Mack found two chairs and a small table by one of the viewports. The droid server whirred over, returned a few minutes later with two glasses of Devil's Breath, neat.
"You're having second thoughts, aren't you?" Mack turned his glass around in his hands. He hadn't sipped it yet.
Gillie had already taken two mouthfuls of hers. That wasn't sufficient potency to keep her from understanding his question. But she didn't understand it.
Of course, her attempts to keep a light constant contact with Simon while her mind simultaneously ran through the events of the past hour weren't helping. "Second thoughts?"
He tried to smile, failed. "You've been quiet. I came on a little too fast last night, didn't I?"
A small pain fluttered around her heart. He mistook her distraction for disinterest. "I've still got a few things to work out with Sim-with the Serendipity." Gods damn it, Gillaine! She berated herself mentally. Pay attention to what comes out of your mouth! "It's not you. It's my ship, and the auxiliary thruster, and the feed coils, and well, you know, the usual repair stuff."
She was babbling. She heard herself babbling. She shut up.
"You don't owe me for that," he said quietly. "The Khalar have always helped a ship in distress. I don't want you to think that last night was a request for repayment."
She took a deep breath, steadied herself. "Rynan Makarian. If I thought for one minute that's what last night was about, you would have been speaking in a considerably higher voice when you left the club."
Amazement gave way to amusement. His chuckle was warm and genuine, and not without a tinge of relief. "I want us to be honest with each other, Gillie. About everything."
Her own smile felt false again. But her words weren't. "I'm here with you because I want to be. And no other reason."
He folded her hand in his. "Let me tell you this theory I have about answered prayers."
Fitch Tobias, Gillie decided, wasn't the only one devoted to the implausibly perfect, increasingly miraculous Lady Kiasidira. She tried, without success, to shake off the growing sense of dread that surrounded her heart whenever Mack mentioned the Lady. But the rest of the evening's conversation in the club, and during dinner, was fortunately not so divinely inspired. Nor were there any new crises blaring from Mack's commbadge, and no dire warnings from Simon to interrupt one of the most wonderful evenings Gillie had ever had. Especially after its almost disastrous beginning.
Rynan Makarian, she realized as they debated over the dessert selection, didn't have a pretentious bone in his gorgeous body. He was a delightfully unpracticed flirt, with a dry wit and a refreshingly honest way of viewing himself and his career.
"'Make It Right'?" He stirred his coffee, a wry grin on his face. "Someone tagged me with that years ago, when I was in the academy. Not sure if it's a badge of honor or a curse."
"Tell me about your academy days." Gillie avoided stories about herself, avoided specifics. She knew her own history, anyway. Mack interested her more. Mack interested her very, very much more.
He was into his stories about his first year as captain on the Vedritor by the time they reached her ship.
She leaned against him in the Serendipity's airlock doorway, her hands splayed against the front of his shirt. The warmth of his body melted against hers. His kisses sent flutters of pleasure spiraling through her.
Simon kept humming the Raheiran Wedding Song in her mind and wouldn't shut up.
"I've got meetings all morning tomorrow. Lunch?" Mack brushed his mouth across her forehead.
"Umm," she said into his chest.
"Is that a yes?"
Tell him a midnight snack would be preferable.
I'm not rushing this, Simon. Shut up.
She tilted her face up. "Yes. That's a yes. Your office, noon?"
"I'm running a maintenance inspection on D12 just before that. I'll come here when that's done."
"That could get dangerous. I might put you to work."
"I like dangerous work." He snugged her tighter against him, smiled a slow, lazy, sexy smile. Those flutters of pleasure flitting inside her increased in intensity. Sweet Ixari! If his touch, his smile, his kisses did this to her, what would happen when he really made love to her?
A few stars may collide, a sun may go nova, but not much more than that, I'm sure.
Gillie stood on her tiptoes, claimed another kiss.
Simon resumed humming the wedding song.
* * *
Morning found Gillie flat on her back, a crystal intergrator in one hand and the fractured skewings of spell-mangled crystal above her. Simon had the ship still half Serendipity, half Raptor but assured Gillie he had his full attention on the station's news archives as he relayed back to her anything he could find on Magefather Rigo. Though as always he kept watch on the comings and goings in and around Cirrus One.
You have a visitor, My Lady.
A visitor. Not a friend. Not your husband-to-be, or blessed betrothed or any one of the soppy romantic titles Simon had bestowed on Mack recently.
But there was no note of alarm in his announcement, either. Nor would Simon have permitted anyone to enter the bay if he felt there were a possibility of danger. Gillie sat up, narrowly missing banging her head on the edge of a console and scanned the bay.
Fitch Tobias. Nervous, unsure and wandering around with his shaved head tilted back as he examined the damage to the Serendipity. Or rather, Simon's rendition of the damage to the Serendipity.
"Lieutenant. Good morning." Gillie trotted down the ramp.
Tobias was halfway into a reverent kneeling position before he caught himself, straightened. He decided to salute instead. "My Lady Captain."
"Gillie."
"My Lady Captain Gillie."
She bit back a sigh. "Just visiting or is this official business?"
"Unofficially official." He locked his hands behind his back, straightened his shoulders. "Admiral Mack didn't send me. But he did ask that I trace some enhancements I found in our long range scanners. NIFTYs. That didn't make sense until I realized Your Worshipfulness was here. Am I correct in assuming they're your Blessed Handiwork?"
She knew what NIFTYs were, had built many herself. But not lately. "I haven't..." Simon?
I may have been less than discreet in my efforts to safeguard this station from the Fav'lhir.
"Certain precautions have been taken." She amended her hasty denial. "But we, I didn't think they were obvious." Damn it all, Simon! And you call me sloppy.
My enthusiasm and diligence do at times override my better judgment, I fear.
"Not obvious, My Lady. If this station weren't in such a state of disrepair, I'd probably not even have noticed them. It's just we're so used to things not working, that when they actually do work, we feel obliged to find out why."
"We. You mean, Admiral Makarian found them?"
Tobias shook his head. "He didn't see them until after I showed him my report."
"And this report. It stated I'm responsible?"
"I had no idea who was responsible, in my first report. That's the purpose of my second report. That's why I'm here." He hesitated, his mouth pursing like a child who knew his next admission was going to earn him a scolding. "My loyalty to the Fleet requires that I report to the admiral the source of these alterations to Cirrus's systems. But my devotion to you, My Lady, tells me I must also obey your commands. You've requested my help in concealing your true identity. I am honored by your faith in me. But it has put me, for the first time in my life, in an unusual position."
"You can't drink wine with your enemies and then dine with your friends," she said softly.
"May Tarkir strike me dead should I ever consider you my enemy," Tobias replied quickly, his dark eyes wide in alarm. "But I recall that was your thirty-second Guideline for Life, and I do understand your point."
"And I understand your predicament." She patted his shoulder in what she hoped was a friendly, reassuring gesture. It was like patting a medium size asteroid. "Would it help if I said that Admiral Makarian will be informed of the source of these enhancements to Cirrus's systems as the need arises? I only ask that you let me choose when and where."
"The Fleet's long operated on a 'need to know' basis."
"Then have faith that he'll be told when I feel he has a need to know."
It might make for interesting conversation on your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.
"You have my faith, my allegiance, my unwavering devotion." He knelt.
Gillie grabbed his elbow as he descended, pulled. She was effective only because halfway down Tobias must have remembered her order not to kneel. He straightened abruptly, taking her with him.
She stumbled backward, grabbing onto him as he grabbed onto her.
He looked down at her in the shock and surprise of holding a real live Goddess in his arms. "Forgive me, My Lady!"
"Fitch, it's all right."
"I offer no offense!"
"Glad to hear that, Lieutenant," Mack said from behind him. "Because all I can offer her is lunch."