Chapter 21

Mack stared at the woman standing stiffly before him, arms folded over her chest. She trembled slightly but her face was impassive, almost distant. She was afraid, angry. Because she'd just admitted her ship was a Raheiran starcruiser named Simon.

She'd named her ship after her elderly friend? For some bizarre reason, that's the first thing that popped into his mind. Incongruously so. Given the fact she'd just admitted her ship's true origins-and Raptor-class meant crystalship, didn't it?-he had a lot more serious things to consider, to question, than why she'd named it after some old man.

"Gillaine-"

She held up one hand. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I should've told you." She raised her arms then let them fall to her side in an exasperated motion. "Be angry at me, be righteously pissed at me if you want. But for Gods' sake, listen to me, Rynan Makarian. Because something very serious is happening. And the fact that you're sitting in a Raptor is the least of your worries."

A thousand things whirled through his mind. He pushed them all aside, including the hurt that Gillie didn't trust him. Again. But he trusted her enough to listen when she asked. "Tell me."

"Rigo met a visitor tonight. The man came in on a star yacht. Name's Carrick Blass. Mean anything to you?"

It did, but he didn't know what in hell Blass was doing here. "Big money. I mean, big money. He's had dinner more than a few times with the chancellor. He's here?"

"He's more than here." She leaned on the back of the chair next to him. "He's Fav'lhir. True mageline. A Melandan sorcerer."

Something hot and cold jolted Mack's body at the same time. "Impossible."

She smiled thinly. "That opinion's been voiced. But I saw him. I... can tell. Just as I know what Rigo is. This Blass makes Rigo look like the merest novice."

"When did he arrive?"

"Few hours ago. Executive Bay Two. His ship, the Windchaser, is still there."

He leaned his fist against his mouth. A few hours ago. By the Gods, he could've had Tobias on it already, hacking into the ship's systems. Finding answers. "I wish you'd called my office."

"This is beyond Tobias's capabilities. Blass's ship has spellforms woven all over it."

His eyes narrowed at the echo in her words. "You said you couldn't read my thoughts."

"I don't have to. I know how your people and how you work. It's what I would've done in your place. Put Tobias on it. But putting Tobias on it would've gotten him killed. You don't fuck with a sorcerer's ship."

He suddenly realized what was different about Gillie. It wasn't that her demeanor was distant, almost cold. It was more like she'd suddenly been put in charge of saving the universe, and knew how. There was a firmness in her tone, a directness in her gaze. A no-time-for-nonsense attitude. It was everything Fleet called the "presence of command."

He'd sensed this before from her. Actually, the very first time he'd met her, in sickbay. But he'd discounted it, because she'd said she was a freighter operator.

But freighter operators didn't own a Raptor-class starcruiser. And freighter operators wouldn't know how to move behind the scenes as she had, working information on Rigo and the shrine.

And freighter operators, even Raheiran ones, would've gone to the authorities for help when a Fav'lhir sorcerer showed up. Gillie hadn't. But she'd known the ship was locked down with spellforms.

Which told him something else. She'd tried to get in. Tried to do what he would've told Tobias to do and might well have gotten his second-in-command killed. Yet she'd survived.

"You're Raheiran military, aren't you." It wasn't a guess. It was the logical conclusion to the facts as he now knew them, including the inexplicable healings in Janek's sickbay. And the miraculous recovery of a little boy named Izaak. Khalaran history books were clear on what it took to be in the Raheiran Special Forces. Healing talents-mageline talents-were one of the requirements.

She nodded.

A thousand questions whirled through his mind, and heart, at her confirmation. He chose one from his mind, shelved the ones from his heart for a later time. "Rank?"

"Captain."

"You're not just an empath."

She looked away, clearly uncomfortable. He waited, aware that he'd slowed his breathing in anticipation of her answer. Aware he already knew what her answer would be. It was part of that logical conclusion.

"No," she said softly, when she turned back. "I'm sorry. I know I have a lot of explaining to do."

He'd already received some explanations. "Doc Janek thanks you for saving Isaak's life."

Color flooded her cheeks.

"There were two others in sickbay when you were admitted. They're both fine. Better than they should be."

She crooked an eyebrow at him. "Old habits die hard."

"Including not breaking cover until you're forced to?" He couldn't yet voice what he was afraid to ask, if sleeping with him was part of her cover. He didn't know what he'd do if she said it was, only that the hurt would be more than he'd be able to bear.

Then he remembered she was very likely more than an empath.

She took the chair next to him, her hands resting on the tabletop as if she wanted to reach for him, but was unsure.

Well, he was unsure, too. He sucked in his fear, took her hands. "I've got a Fav'lhir sorcerer on station, a fraudulent magefather, some very valuable people showing up shortly and all I can think about is where you'll be sleeping tonight." He shook his head. "Damn foolish, wouldn't you say?"

"Then that makes two of us. I don't want to lose you, Mack."

"And jeopardize your mission?"

She tried to jerk her hands back, but he held on.

"Sorry." He saw the anger flash in her eyes. His comment, and its timing, wasn't the best. She knew how highly he placed honesty. She had to know what had happened bothered him deeply. He hesitated, then plowed ahead. "But I've been lied to about too many things."

"I never lied about loving you. If anything, my life would be one damn bit easier if I didn't."

"But you don't trust me." He didn't really think that was true, but needed to hear her deny it.

There was a bleakness in her expression when she answered. "In order to try to stop the Fav'lhir, I may have to shatter some of your people's long-held beliefs. Quite honestly, this has been tearing me apart. Because I won't just be hurting the Khalar when I do this. I'll be hurting Rynan Makarian. That almost made me decide to do nothing at all." Her voice dropped to a harsh rasp.

"The only way you could hurt me," he said softly, "is by not being a part of my life."

"And the Khalar? You have some interesting ideas about me-about Raheirans. Most are based on stories, old legends. But these are legends your people hold very dearly. It's not my job to destroy something that's been a part of your culture for hundreds of years."

"What is your job? Besides feeding me and loving me," he added, before she misinterpreted his question, and thought he was angry. Surprisingly, he wasn't.

With her admission of her military status, things fell into place. Her evasiveness when they'd first met, her reluctance to admit she was Raheiran. She'd been trained as he'd been trained-when you find yourself somewhere you don't belong, keep a low profile. Volunteer as little as possible.

Yet she'd become involved with him. He hoped, he truly wanted to believe that had nothing to do with her being Raheiran, or his being a Khalaran admiral. He could no longer imagine life without her. It wouldn't be a life at all, just a shell. He tightened his fingers around hers.

She responded with a small smile. "My official title is Military Advisor. I'm trained to work with developing cultures, not destroy their beliefs. But then Blass showed up." Her smile faded. "I may not have a choice here."

"A Raheiran-Khalaran alliance against the Fav won't destroy anyone's beliefs." Except maybe the Fav'lhir's belief that they could take over the Confederation again. He didn't quite understand the unease he sensed in her.

"I'm not officially here. I don't have the authority to make commitments, promises."

"But you said your people come through here frequently. Isn't there a squadron, or contingent close that could assist-"

"No." She cut him off, shaking her head. "Believe me, we've, I've scanned."

Something didn't make sense. "Why did your CO send you in alone?"

"Do you remember that anomaly Captain Adler told you about?"

"Out in Runemist."

"I was caught in it. Dragged here, by mistake. My ship was damaged."

"You came through a natural wormhole?" That's what the Rim Gate project would simulate. If a wormhole were already here, though, Fleet had to know. It could seriously affect the operations of the artificial gate; possibly even scrap the entire project. "Our people have probed this entire area, found nothing like that."

"Because it wasn't a wormhole. It was a problem in Riftspace."

Mack knew about Riftspace. Or rather, he knew about the theory, and the legend, of Riftspace. It was a place where science and magicks merged. The Khalar had no access to it. Only the Raheira. Then he remembered Blass, a Melandan mage working with the Fav'lhir. His gut tightened. "Is that how Blass came here?"

"His ship shows no signs of Rift transit, no. At least, not this trip."

Blass's ship could run through Riftspace. He heard that implied in her answer and his gut tightened even more. That was how the Fav'lhir had engineered their surprise attack three hundred and fifty years ago, by using the knowledge of the mageline. A mageline that had been destroyed, eradicating that knowledge, and those abilities to travel in the Rift undetected.

But it hadn't been destroyed. Blass was here. Mack's heart felt heavy as he reluctantly pushed aside his concerns over his relationship with Gillie and focused on a threat the Khalar had never wanted to face again-the Fav'lhir, with the power of mageline magicks behind them.

Blass's crystalship...wasn't the only one. A Raheiran Raptor-class starcruiser, Gillie had stated that in describing the very ship he sat in now. A crystalship. A Raheiran crystalship.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Find me a place for Simon. I can't take on the Fav'lhir without him."

* * *

Mack swiveled slowly around in the captain's chair and fought the urge to pinch himself. For the moment, his worries about Blass and the Fav'lhir were relegated to the background. He'd already done all he could through a terse conversation with Tobias, who would relay his instructions to Rand. Watch Blass. Monitor all the comings and goings around the Windchaser. But nothing more, because he and Gillie agreed they weren't in a position to play their hand, yet.

So for now, he let himself be amazed by the fact that he was sitting on the bridge of a Raheiran Raptor-class starcruiser. A crystalship. The rumble of her-his, he corrected - sublights was faintly audible.

This was not at all the bridge he'd seen before. This was magnificent. At least, he thought it was though he had no idea what he was looking at. Other than the viewports and screens, all instrumentation was foreign, not only in labeling, but in form. There were no touchpads, no screenpoints, no clicktabs. Just crystal. He ran his hands over a console area that had to be the captain's. The crystal felt smooth, cool. But there were slight differences in texture. Very slight.

Gillie came up beside him, touched a square area. Light blossomed in a deep green, ran up her arm. She moved her fingers. More colors misted, flowed.

She pulled her hand away. The crystals still glowed, but no longer sent their colors toward her.

"Enviro systems check." She sat in what he assumed was the copilot's seat, looked quizzically at him.

"It's going to take me awhile." Not to understand the instrumentation before him. That he doubted he ever could. But to accept what he was seeing. A crystalship. Gillie. No, Captain Gillaine Davré. He knew she had to have some serious mage talents, even though she hadn't admitted to more than being a healer. And, obliquely, a telepath.

She wanted to be with him. She loved him. That was the most amazing part of it all.

"But I'll get used to it," he added, seeing the edges of her mouth dip slightly.

A part of her smile returned. "I'll need my seat if we're to move this ship."

He vacated it, took the copilot's chair. "Ops will only see a freighter?" Cloaking and emulations functions were theory to him.

"Simon can split images. They'll see the Serendipity." She tapped at a crystal section on her right. It pulsed a light blue. "Davré's Serendipity to Cirrus Traffic Control. Ready when you are. Will activate bay door on your signal."

The signal came through. He didn't know how a Raheiran crystalship could interface with his station, but it did.

Gillie sent the corresponding command to open the bay doors.

Simon was, she'd assured him, quite capable of accepting an exterior dock. Her later damage reports to Mack had been designed to give him reason to keep her on Cirrus. She hadn't wanted someone questioning why she was there, or her relationship with him.

He had two out-docks available: one on Level D6, another on Upper 7, one level down from the executive bays. Gillie had immediately opted for Upper 7. Blass's Windchaser was on U8. She wanted to keep an eye on him.

The idea raised his protective instincts. Then reality took hold. She was mageline Raheiran. He'd agreed, but made sure she knew he wasn't thrilled about it.

Docking took ten minutes. He heard the thump of the hatchway against her ship's airlock, and was surprised, when he left the bridge, to find himself in a Rondalaise freighter corridor. He looked over his shoulder. Crystal glistened dimly. The bulkheading around him was dull gray metal.

He shook his head, keyed in the interface commands on a familiar-looking instrument pad adjacent to the airlock. Answering commands flashed from the ramp.

The airlock opened. Fitch Tobias's close-shaved head appeared. "Everything optimal, sir?"

"Optimal. Thanks."

"Blessings of the Goddess upon you, sir. Good night."

"Actually, it's more like good morning." Gillie leaned against the gray corridor wall behind him.

The airlock door hissed closed as he turned. He glanced at his watch.

"About three hours worth." He rubbed the back of his neck and felt suddenly more tired than he had in weeks. But then, it had been a rather energetic day. Starting with Gillie's revelation of her Raheiran heritage last night. Ending with him, a little more than twenty-six hours later, standing in a crystalship belonging to an officer in the Raheiran Special Forces. And everything else that had happened in between.

"The shrine opens end of main shift, right?" she asked. "We should get some sleep."

He grinned. Her "we" was encouraging. "Mind if I stay here?" He didn't think he could make it even down two levels to his quarters. Nor did he want to.

"I'd like that."

He slipped his arm around her waist. "So would I. Just please, tell me. Is there anything else about you I should know?"

She leaned her head against his chest, sighed. "Yes, but Mack, if we get into that now, neither of us is going to get any sleep at all tonight."

Oh, Gods. There was more. More than being Raheiran mageline. More than being a Raheiran officer.

"Don't," she said softly and he knew she sensed his disquiet.

"Just one question. Then no more, I promise."

She tensed slightly but her face was calm when she looked up at him. "Go ahead."

"Are you... married? Or involved with another guy back-"

Laughter bubbled over his words. "There's no one else. Never really has been. Just you." She pulled his mouth down to hers, kissed him thoroughly.

Mack found out he wasn't quite as tired as he'd thought.

* * *

Gillie woke to her cabin's semi-darkness and the warmth of Mack's body against hers. She should wake him, have coffee. Go find out what a Fav'lhir sorcerer was doing on Cirrus One.

You had your chance last night to tell him all.

That was this morning, Simon.

Why didn't you?

She sighed softly. Because I'm hoping I won't have to. I think I can still accomplish what needs to be done without sullying the image of their Lady. If someone requires an explanation, I'll blame my connection with Special Forces, my mageline talents. That way the Khalar can keep their Lady, and I won't lose Mack.

He's stayed with you this far.

I want to keep it that way. Start coffee, will you? Gillie sat up, stretched. Mack grumbled something and rolled over.

Already started. And, My Lady...?

Hmm?

Thank you for not selling me to the salvager.

Oh, Simon. Gillie grabbed her robe, pulled it on. You're my best friend. I'd be lost without you.

Speaking of lost, you'd best wait for the admiral. The ship's still in interior crystal phase. The galley lounge is not where he remembers it to be.

When she came out of the shower, Mack was awake, and dressed. "I'm going to stop at my place, change into a fresh uniform, then I'll be in my office."

"Coffee?" She knew he felt the pressure of time. But she needed to cover a few more things before they tackled the shrine's opening and the ceremonies that preceded it. And Blass.

"I need that, thanks."

He took a wrong turn out of her cabin. She grabbed his arm, guided him down the silver crystalline corridor. "This way."

Simon had added a touch of chocolate to the coffee this morning. Show off, she teased. She handed Mack a cup, then sat next to him. "I'm going to pull what I can from the Windchaser. Should have something for you before Rigo's opening."

Alarm flashed in his eyes. "Are you sure you can handle a spellformed ship?"

"You're sitting in one."

"Then Blass could know you're here."

"I'm not the fool he is. And his ship's not..." She hesitated. Damn, it was so hard to separate what she felt safe in telling him. So hard to know where to draw the line. But he had to know. She chanced it. "His ship's not sentient."

"Sentient." His coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth.

"The Windchaser is what we call essenmorgh. Without soul-life. It's powered by crystal similar to Raheiran crystal. But that crystal functions strictly as an amplifier. Not a generator."

"Sentient," Mack repeated. At least he'd put his cup down. "The Simon is a sentient ship."

"Simon is the sentience. He's a life form that resides in the crystal of this ship."

Mack glanced up quickly, then as if realizing the absurdity of his action, faced her. "Simon's part of this ship?"

"Say hello, Simon." Gillie winced as soon as she said the words, knowing how his wry, and sometimes literal, nature would interpret her request and turn it into an echo. Politely! she added.

"Good morning, Admiral Makarian. I trust the coffee is to your liking?" Simon's well-modulated voice issued from the commpanel on the wall.

Mack's head swiveled to the panel behind him. It took a few seconds before he was able to answer. "It's, it's fine. Thank you."

"You needn't face the commpanel, sir. I'm not actually there. Feel free to converse with me in a more comfortable position if you wish."

"Right." Mack looked back at Gillie and was unsuccessful in keeping the surprised expression from his face. "Why do I have the feeling that with you, it's always going to be something?"

"Trust me, sir," Simon said before Gillie could reply. "It's not a feeling, it's a fact."

Gillie tapped her spoon against her cup. "I'm sure Mack's more interested in the Windchaser than my troublesome history, Simon."

"A formidable crystalship, currently emulating a Class One star yacht. But she is, as Captain Davré has told you, essenmorgh. Her spellforms require Blass's input and upkeep, where I am capable of creating and adapting my own."

Mack started to look back at the commpanel, caught himself. "So you've gotten into her systems?"

"Captain Davré and I were able to obtain some information last night, before Blass returned to his ship. The risk of detection increases when he is on board. I'll be able to do more once he leaves. We assume he's here for the opening of the shrine."

Mack nodded. "What do you have so far?"

"It took me several hours last night to break Blass's codes," Simon explained. "That's why I asked Captain Davré to have you delay your departure this morning. So I could bring both you, and she, up to date. It appears Blass is here not just to spend time with his friend, Magefather Rigo. He's also here to spend time with the woman of his dreams. At least, that's what he's written in his letters to her."

This odd bit of news surprised Gillie. Simon had said nothing earlier. One of these days she was going to have to break him of his theatrical tendencies. "Why should we be the least bit concerned with his love life?"

"Because his lover is the chancellor's wife, Honora Syrella."

Blass was involved with the Khalaran chancellor's wife? Gillie blinked, hard, as if by doing so she could block from her mind's eye the sinister implications in that liaison.

Disbelief, then disgust, showed on Mack's face. "That's impossible."

"Sadly, evidence states otherwise. As does her impending arrival."

"Here?" Mack's hand was halfway to his commbadge when the badge trilled. He slapped it. "Makarian."

"Tobias here, sir. We've just received a coded transmit from Senator Halbert. He and the Prime Hostess have reached our outer beacon and intend to make dock within the hour."

"Is the chancellor, or their daughter, with them?"

"Not that we've been informed, no."

"Get Rand-"

"Already have, sir. She's on it."

"I'll be in Ops in ten. Makarian out." He faced Gillie, his dark eyes narrowed. "This is far beyond Rigo's capabilities."

"I know," she said softly, feeling his confusion and frustration. "But not beyond Carrick Blass's. And not beyond the Fav'lhir's."

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