Chapter 19
As usual, the lifts were crowded when Mack arrived. It was ten minutes to main shift. Upper 5 housed several Fleet offices and a large section of Fleet officers' residences. Mack's quarters on U5 were only one level down from Ops. He strode past the lines of black-uniformed personnel, nodded at those awake enough to recognize him and headed for the stairs.
Others, both in Fleet black and CQPA orange, had the same idea.
He exited at Upper 6 and was greeted by the screeching of parrots. Ops Lower was a jumble of movement. The aroma of fresh coffee mixed with the stale odor of coffee gone cold. Mack threaded his way toward Pryor, who was bent over a station, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Where's Tobias?"
"You just missed him, sir. Something's got the parrots going again."
Mack shook his head. "This is more important. Executive conference, half hour, officers' club." He wished the Vedri was still on station but he needed her out on patrol. Perimeter Sensor Logs had picked up some odd activities again. He'd fill Adler in later, on a private link. "I'll grab Tobias, you comm the rest of our team. We have to talk about this docking bay. The Shrine of Communion opens for business tomorrow."
He trotted back to the corridor, spotted Tobias's brawny form walking doggedly ahead of him, head angled toward the open atrium. Mack could see the glint of a bio-scanner in Tobias's right hand, also angled toward the open atrium.
And a pylon, dead ahead, maybe a foot in front of the single-minded lieutenant.
"Tobias!" He raised his voice to carry over the din, then, feeling like an idiot, slapped his commbadge. "Makarian to Tobias, priority."
The younger officer jerked to a stop. He turned quickly, tapped his badge on, then off. "Admiral?"
Mack was three steps behind him. He grabbed Tobias by one shoulder, guided him around. "You should watch where you're going."
Tobias lay his left hand against the curved metal pylon. "Thank you, sir. That would have been embarrassing."
"Not painful?" Mack grinned. Of course, given Tobias's physique, it might have been more painful for the pylon.
"Only momentarily. The parrots-"
"Forget about them for now. I've got Pryor calling a team meeting. We have new information to consider about the shrine. But I need to speak to you alone first."
"About the shrine?"
"That, and about a young woman named Gillaine Davré."
* * *
Gillie leaned her back against the pylon and didn't dare breathe. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She'd missed Tobias by seconds. Inches. If Mack hadn't called out she would've already been stepping around the wide metal support beam, reaching for the lieutenant. Mack's voice, and Simon's warning, had sounded in her ears and mind at the same time.
She almost did step out when she heard her name mentioned. But something-fear? insecurity?-held her back, made her legs and her mind freeze. She had no rational explanation for being just outside of Ops. She had to trust Tobias would remember and adhere to her admonition to him: Tell no one I'm the Kiasidira until I directly give you permission to do so.
That included his CO, Mack. She prayed, no, beseeched Ixari, Tarkir and Merkara to bestow on Fitch Tobias the wisdom to keep his damn devout mouth shut.
Mind link. She could try for a telepathic link but that not only violated every principle she'd ever been taught but was often emotionally frightening for the unexpected recipient. She was trying to prevent damage, not cause it.
Mack and Tobias's voices faded away. She closed her eyes briefly then shoved herself away from the pylon before someone questioned her odd position.
Sorry, My Lady.
Maybe it'll be all right. This was the price, she knew, for weaving lies. Probably excellent subject matter for a few meditations. Even a guideline or two. But right now, she had other things to think about.
Like the hidden locked box in Rigo's sacristy. The one with the soft, plaintive song. She had to take another look around that temple, especially now that she had Mack's implicit approval to continue her work. That approval meant more to her than she'd thought it would.
Where's Rigo this morning? she asked as she waited in line for a lift. Her breathing had slowed to normal. Better to think about the annoying magefather than what Tobias might be telling Mack right now, undoing everything she'd tried so hard to keep together last night.
Station systems show he's not left his quarters since 2315 last night. Shall I peek?
Please. Simon's link with Cirrus's computers provided him with information not only from Ops, but security. And security always monitored all public areas and offices, in case of an emergency. But they weren't foolproof.
Simon's link with Cirrus's computers also provided him with the ability to eavesdrop, if a computer monitor were activated in a certain location and not privacy-locked. She hoped Rigo was up cooking breakfast with the news on, or reading his mail.
He was. At least a half-dozen doughnuts and coffee, Simon informed her. But then, his training's in theology, not nutrition.
Shame that Mack wasn't talking with Tobias in his office. Simon might have been able to listen in there as well. Then at least she'd be prepared with answers. Or excuses and apologies.
She pushed that problem out of her mind, concentrated on tripping the lock on the temple's back door.
The crystal-like moon symbol had been repaired, she noticed as she crouched in the semi-darkness. The light that filtered in through the corridor window only added to the irregularity of the shadows she needed for cover. She heard nothing other than her own breath.
A sneeze threatened as she laid her hand against the sacristy's lock. Damn incense. It must have dried out after the dousing she'd given it.
The door opened. She slipped inside, crouched down again until the door closed. The hidden crystal's voice was thin, but unrelenting. Quickly, and as quietly as possible, she moved the boxes of incense aside.
She pulled the case from the lower shelf onto a space she'd cleared on the floor. Ran her hands over it, felt the crystal inside strongly now. Unlike the cases Tobias and Mack had had, this one was plexicast, not metal. It couldn't damper its contents the way the others had. She found that odd; Raheiran crystal was almost always stored in metal to prevent its being a disruptive force.
Of course, since there hadn't been any true Raheirans around in over three hundred years, perhaps that precaution had ceased to be necessary.
She found the lock, felt for its patterns. Stopped cold as something answered from within.
But not out of fear. Out of recognition.
My Lady? Simon's concern came through clearly.
Visitor?
All is still clear. But something's disturbed you.
This is-was mine. She touched the lock more confidently now, her mind racing with questions.
Simon tried valiantly to keep pace. I have no idea. What? What? Of course, I'm listening! But you're rambling, Gillaine Kiasidira. What sword? There are hundreds of ceremonial-
Gillie lifted the sword from its silk-lined case, hefted it in her hand.
Oh. Simon understood. That sword.
The small room pulsed with a deep purple mist that swirled, not only from the crystalline blade but from the jewels and runestones covering the hilt. Then the spellforms, recognizing her essence, muted, returned to the sword.
It wasn't really, Gillie knew, a sword. It was too short. But it was too long to be called a dagger.
It was also hers-had been hers since she was small.
I left it in my quarters at the Port, a couple weeks-a few hundred years ago, she corrected. But what in hell Rigo's doing with it... She didn't finish the thought. Couldn't. She had no idea what Rigo was doing with it. Or if he even knew what he had.
I think we have to assume he does, My Lady. Therefore stealing it is not advisable.
I'm not stealing it. She secured it under her jacket. You can't steal your own things. But I can't leave it here. It's a desecration.
He may notice it's missing. Perhaps he uses it in a special service?
Then we'll just have to get him another one. You have its pattern on file. Duplicate it for me, not out of true crystal, of course.
That will take me at least two hours.
She knew that. There aren't any services scheduled today. I checked. She'd learned her lesson from last time.
You'll have to break into the temple again to replace the false one. I'm not fond of that idea.
Last time, I promise.
She repacked the box, stacked the incense, almost missed Simon's soft grumbling, I've heard that one before.
You'll hear it again. She slipped out of the small room, locked it behind her. Then slipped quietly and easily out of the back door of the temple.
She was almost to Down 11 when she heard the shouting. Then a woman's mournful wail. She took the stairs two at a time, following the noise.
Simon! Can you find out?
Lift malfunction of some kind, he replied after a long moment. More people were running with her. The shouting grew louder.
Her heart plummeted when she saw the open lift doors. And a familiar flute on the decking nearby.
Izaak.
Simon, the child!
Two large men were restraining a thin dark-haired woman who stood at the edge of the open lift shaft. "Izaak! Jared!"
"Mama!" came a thin reply.
Gillie grabbed the arm of a woman in a blue freighter uniform. "What happened?"
"Door opened. Lift wasn't there. Kid bolted forward, not looking. The man grabbed for him, fell." The woman's voice was strained. "It's not the first time. Damn it! How many have to die?"
"Did anyone call security? Medics?"
"Sure." The woman's grimaced. "Don't see them rushing here, do you? And them's the only ones who got the codes to get in the shaft."
Gillie used Simon's link to grab a datapath to sickbay. Doc Janek wasn't on duty. The CQPA doctor there was in surgery with a critical case. The only med techs she could spare were still trying to log out their gear.
Security was on the way, but without medical, they'd be little help.
Simon? How deep is the shaft?
Five more levels, though civilian access halts one down, at D12. Station schematics show only maintenance tunnels after that. But there's a lift stopped at M5, one below D12. Two levels down. That may be where they are.
Gillie bolted for the stairs. Guide me there.
* * *
Save for a matched pair of droid maintenance workers dismantling a sound mirror at the far end of the bar, the officers' club was blessedly empty for most of Mack's meeting. The few who wandered in for coffee weren't there long enough to hear the hushed exclamations of surprise and disbelief when Mack quietly reported that a true Raheiran was on station. And had brought news that Magefather Rigo might not be all he purported to be.
"You're sure this Raheiran's true, not just someone with a grandmother who claimed Raheiran lineage a generation ago?" Doc Janek had his elbow on the table, his narrow chin against his fist. Everyone leaned forward. These weren't words that should go farther than the table.
"Could be a she," Josza Brogan posited. She was a willowy young woman with short curly dark hair. Her degrees in linguistics and psychology made her a valued part of the Vedri's tactical team, in spite of her youth. "The admiral didn't say."
"The admiral's not going to say," Mack said, "right now. Which doesn't mean I don't trust all of you. I do. But this is my friend's request. And yes, Doc. I'm sure." He nodded at Janek. "Crystal doesn't lie."
"When the magefather touched the crystal, it glowed," Pryor pointed out.
"Dimly. And he had to touch it. That's not how crystal reacts to a true Raheiran." Mack waited for the next question. He'd handpicked his team because he knew they would question. Five people who agreed with everything he said would be useless.
Donata Rand splayed her hand toward him. "Why does our Raheiran friend think the magefather's a fraud?" Rand had been with Fleet security for over ten years. Her sturdy frame had been in the middle of more than a few bar fights.
"Our friend," Mack said, deciding he'd use that term to keep from inadvertently saying Gillie's name, "has been suspicious of the magefather for a few weeks. These suspicions were confirmed when our friend bumped into Rigo outside my office the other day. Raheirans are empaths-"
"-and telepaths," Tobias said.
"-and can read a person's emotions. And something they call an essence. Rigo's essence is Melandan. Fav'lhir."
Pryor and Brogan jerked upright. Rand closed her eyes, shook her head. Janek clenched his hands together. Tobias was nodding.
More questions were fired. Mack answered. Then plans surfaced. Ideas gelled. They'd worked this way for almost five years. It was a comfortable and profitable combination.
"I need an illegal tracer on all ships logging in for the shrine once it opens. Tobias? This has to be completely outside of CQPA's systems. I need it terminaled somewhere other than Fleet property."
"Maguire's, sir. Murphy won't ask and he's one hundred percent trustworthy."
Mack liked that idea. He could sit there with Gillie and no one would be the wiser.
"You're going to want backup security for the inspection, and dedication," Rand said. "I'll handle that."
"Coordinate it with Pryor." Mack gestured to the white-haired man. "No one works alone. Watch who's around you. Watch who's watching you."
Rand nodded. "Which brings me back to our Raheiran friend. Who's watching this friend?"
"I am." Mack met her gaze evenly.
"That's not prudent, sir. With all due respect, this is my area. You're going to be involved, even distracted, by the inspection and the arrival of our guests. You'll be part of certain ceremonies. There's no way you alone can guarantee the safety of this person."
Trust Donni Rand to find the one hole in his plans. He wondered if he'd avoided thinking about Gillie's safety because he knew she'd scoff at the idea.
"We are your team," Rand continued. "I appreciate your concerns over this friend's identity, but it's my opinion you're jeopardizing safety for privacy."
"Tobias knows who our friend is."
Rand shot an appraising look at Tobias. "And he doesn't have enough to keep him busy? He's going to be running that tracer in addition to everything else he's doing now."
"She's right, Mack," Janek said.
"It's not totally up to me." Mack opened his hands in obvious frustration. He'd promised Gillie he wouldn't tell anyone, other than Tobias, of course.
A strange, and short, conversation that had been, when he'd told Tobias he'd found out Gillie was Raheiran. His second-in-command had seemed elated then, suddenly, had become very quiet. But Fitch Tobias often had strange moments. He brushed the memory aside, turned to Rand. "Our friend set this condition of anonymity."
"Then he, or she, is a fool. Begging the admiral's pardon," Rand said, but she was smiling.
"I'll take your wise words under advisement." He placed his palms on the tabletop. "Anything else?"
A series of negative nods followed. "Good. You all know your projects for the next twenty-six hours. Keep in touch with me or with Tobias." He shoved himself to his feet. "May the Lady guide you and protect you."
Datapads snapped shut, chairs swiveled, boots thudded softly away on thick carpeting. All except Doc Janek, who leaned back in his chair and regarded Mack in much the same way he had in Mack's office weeks ago, when he'd teased about the breach in defenses.
"Problem, Doc?"
Janek shook his head. "It's Gillaine Davré, isn't it? Our, or should I say, your friend."
Mack forced his expression to remain neutral. "I can't answer that."
"You just did. You didn't say no."
"Doc-"
"I was going to tell you something, but you've been busy." He motioned to the chair Mack had just vacated, indicated he should sit. "Something odd happened when she was in sickbay. I didn't pay much attention to it at the time. But when I was going over the logs for the week, it stood out. Puzzled me. When you said we had a Raheiran on station, it all fell into place."
Mack leaned his elbows on the chair's armrest. "Tell me."
"We had two critical cases come in just before Captain Davré arrived. That worker who fell down the lift shaft when the doors open unexpectedly. Again. And a girl, no more than fifteen, with a serious congenital heart problem. They were in sickbay with Davré."
He shrugged, followed the movements of the droids working on the sound mirror for a moment. "In a top notch sickbay, both were solvable. But you know I've bitched about the state of my equipment for months. It should have taken that worker over a week to recover. The girl, I thought all I could do was make her comfortable. Hope to transfer her to a better facility in-system."
"What's Gillie have to do with this?"
"The worker recovered two days later. The girl's scans show no defects at all."
"Mistakes. You said your equipment's faulty."
"Not that faulty. And not good enough to fix those things."
"Neither can Gillie," Mack said quietly. "She doesn't have any mage powers."
Janek arched one eyebrow. "Should I thank Rigo for the healings?"
Mack remembered how he'd found her at Rigo's healing service, worried over the little boy with the flute. Izaak. The child just had a bad case of bronchitis she'd told him. She'd given him some herbal teas, a wardstone for strength. She wasn't, she'd insisted, a mage. And definitely wasn't a sorceress.
Gillie wouldn't lie to him. She-
-wouldn't lie, but she would omit. Had omitted being Raheiran until he'd opened the case with his grandfather's crystal. Had omitted what she'd known about Rigo, working instead on her own. He closed his eyes for a moment, shook his head.
Gillie, Gillie. You have no reason to lie to me.
He opened his eyes. He didn't want to ask the question, but knew he had to. And damned that part of himself that gave him no choice. "Tell me everything you know about a little boy named Izaak Neal."