Chapter 29
Mack recognized Simon's voice and didn't doubt the veracity of his information. The Fav'lhir intended to take Cirrus. He didn't know if they knew their sorcerer was dead. He didn't care. He needed workable specifics. "How far out are they?" He faced Gillie-Lady Gillaine-when he spoke, remembering last time facing the speakers in her ready room and feeling foolish. It wasn't as if Simon were actually here.
She still stared over his shoulder. "Simon?"'
Something prickled the back of Mack's neck. He turned. A man stood behind him. Tall, with pale blond hair pulled tight at his neck, and a tan uniform covering a well-muscled body. An RSF uniform. Mack had seen holos in history classes.
Simon. Actually here.
"Two squadrons are within six hours of your outer beacons. Your own sensors aren't yet able to pick them up, Admiral. I thought it prudent to alert you."
Simon. Gods, not an old man, not an elderly caretaker. But Gillie's age. Maybe younger and looking like a god himself. For some reason that bothered Mack almost as much as the news he brought. Fav'lhir warships, a little more than thirty-six hours out, and heading for Cirrus One.
He slapped his commbadge. "Makarian to Ops. Incoming at thirty-six. Red Alert, Condition Two. Repeat. Red Alert. Condition Two." He'd upgrade to a Condition One when-and if-the Fav crossed the twenty-six hour mark.
"Acknowledged," Tobias answered. He'd evidently left Rand's offices and returned to Ops. That made Mack feel only marginally better. Tobias was where he could do the most good and Fourth Fleet, if they'd been able to deploy when they'd received his earlier message, should already be on their way.
"Full staff meeting in the conference room, ten minutes," he told Tobias.
"Ten minutes, sir."
"Makarian out." He motioned to Simon. "We'll need to know everything you can tell us."
"Lady Gillaine and I will be in the conference room in ten."
Mack nodded, tried to ignore how right Simon and Gill-Lady Gillaine-looked standing side by side, tried to ignore the realization that this godlike man had been Lady Gillaine's constant companion. Tried to ignore the fact that he had an impending attack by the Fav'lhir and all he could think about was an ache in his heart. A Divine Immortal-and there was no other explanation for her existence other than immortality-wasn't for the likes of an Impure Khalaran. Admiral or not.
"Thank you. Ten minutes." Mack spun on his heels and strode for the door.
* * *
"This is an unfortunate turn of events," Simon said as the door slid closed behind Mack's retreating figure.
Unfortunate? Gillie preferred cataclysmic. And that description fit either the approach of the Fav'lhir warships or the loss of Mack in her life.
She'd lost him. She knew that, had known it the minute she'd been forced to take true Kiasidiran form. Blass had left her no choice. He'd integrated more of the magecabinet's ugly magicks than she'd realized, was stronger than she'd anticipated. She'd just started to deal with his spellforms on Hebbs when she'd felt his power surge and grow. He intended to kill everyone in the shrine, everyone on the station if he had to.
Even the added magicks of her sword had done little to quell him.
With a sigh, she ran her hand through her hair. In saving Mack's life, she'd lost his love. Oh, not his devotion. That she clearly felt. Just as she clearly felt that pedestal building beneath her feet. Pedestals, shrines, altars. That's where Mack now placed her. Not in his arms. Definitely not in his bed. She had to change that, somehow. Had to get him to see her as just Gillie again.
"Lady Gillaine?"
She shook off her heartache, blinked back the tears threatening to flow from her eyes. "Status, Simon. How far have you gotten in updating station defenses? Can we stop the Fav'lhir? And while we're at it, mind telling me how you've managed to take full human form?" The golden hue of his Raheiran heritage was absent.
He arched an eyebrow. "I told you I've been working on this."
"To be more useful, or to keep me out of trouble?"
"A little of both. Your other questions I can answer back at the ship."
She plucked at her plain jacket. "I'll dig out my uniform. Seeing two RSF officers on their vidscreens might just make the Fav reconsider their actions. Shame we can't also present them with a squadron of Raptors."
"Actually, Lieutenant Tobias and I have been working on that as well. We just need Izaak's help."
She shot him a questioning glance.
"Parrots," he said.
"The parrots? You're joking. They're harmless. They can't leave the confines of the station."
Simon smiled. "They won't have to."
* * *
Mack's team was already assembled in the conference room adjoining Ops Main when Gillie stepped through the opening door. She headed for Mack's side out of habit. When he rose from his seat and executed a small respectful bow she halted abruptly. Only the slight pressure of Simon's hand on the small of her back convinced her to move again.
She wanted to run away from the distant, reverent look in his eyes, and on the faces of those around the conference room table. Rand regarded her with a mixture of awe and hope. Pryor gave a small nod, then studied his hands, folded on the tabletop. Josza Brogan wouldn't even look at her. Doc Janek's smile was tense.
Only Tobias seemed unchanged but then, his expression around her had always held a large measure of adoration. That might disappear, once she said what she knew she had to say.
She'd already dampered her empathic and telepathic senses since the incident in the shrine. She tightened her shields even more, now. She needed to be in control, not burst into tears.
She waved Mack back into his seat. She couldn't sit. She'd only end up swiveling the chair back and forth in her current state of agitation. She needed to pace. The small conference room didn't look quite large enough to burn off all her concerns, but what the hell, she'd give it a try.
"You all know Simon, though," she added with a slight motion of her hand as she strode down the length of the table, "you haven't seen him before."
Only Tobias seemed startled by her introduction. But he knew more about the Raheira than the others and probably understood how difficult it was for a nanoessence energy field to manifest in human form.
He's about to explode with questions, Simon told her. I imagine once we've handled the Fav'lhir, he won't give me a moment's peace.
I've never known you to complain about a willing audience for your talents.
Did I say I was complaining?
She challenged the other part of his comment. Are you positive we can handle the Fav'lhir?
Simon leaned his hands on the empty chair in front of him. "What time estimate have your received from your Fourth Fleet, Admiral?"
"They deployed shortly after acknowledging my request. A little less than thirty-four hours, barring any unforeseen delays."
Gillie folded her hands behind her waist. "Any reports of additional Fav'lhir activity from other quadrants?"
Mack shook his head. "The entire fleet's on high alert, My Lady. Security teams are following up on Commodore Trace's information of other Fav agents as well."
They'd find some, of that she had no doubt. But it would probably take longer than thirty-six hours to receive any reports of success in that area. She hoped she and Cirrus One would still be around to hear it.
That's something she had to explain to the Khalar. Something she had to make Mack understand. She was here to help them, but she wasn't a goddess. She wasn't immortal. She could fail. They could all fail.
She'd have to destroy their long-held religious belief in order to make them see that. But better to destroy their belief than their lives. She saw clearly now how her attempts over the past weeks to protect them, to preserve their cultural error had almost resulted in getting them all killed.
She sucked in breath, made sure her empathic shields were tightly in place, paced off a few tense steps then turned. "I'm not a goddess." She looked directly at Mack. Gods, he needed to understand. He was Fleet. He was their salvation almost more than she was. "Before we go any further, you must hear this. The truth. I can't save you. I can work with you, but I can't save you. I can't say magick words and make the Fav'lhir disappear."
"Of course. Free will." Tobias was nodding. "The Gods are here to guide us but we must each learn our lessons-"
"Damn it, Fitch, you're not listening!" Gillie flung her arms wide in exasperation. "There are Gods and Goddesses. Tarkir, Ixari, Merkara. But I am not one of them." She stressed her words. "I'm Raheiran, yes. I bear the onus of a Kiasidira. Yes. But there were dozens before me and no doubt, have been dozens since. Kiasidira is a title, a designation of ability. Not a name. We can do a few more tricks than the average Raheiran but we're not gods or goddesses."
Mack started to say something but stopped. He was afraid. She could feel that from him. Afraid of her. He didn't understand what she was trying to tell him. It broke her heart. "Ask," she said to him, softly.
"My Lady, I..."
"Gillie. My name's Gillie. Just Gillie. Now ask whatever it was you wanted to know."
"Are you the same Lady Kiasidira who worked with us three hundred and forty-two years ago?"
"Yes."
"Then you're immortal."
"No."
"But...?"
Gillie turned. "Simon?"
"There was an accident in Riftspace. An explosion resulting from the destruction of the Fav'lhir ship. It caused a hole, if you will, in the normal space-time continuum. Lady Gillaine and I traveled three hundred and forty-two years in thirty-four minutes."
A noticeable silence filled the room.
"I'm not a goddess," Gillie repeated, but more gently this time. "I'm, at best, an accident. An unwilling time traveler. When I woke in your sickbay," she nodded to Janek, "Simon told me what had happened. I had no idea what to do. Of all the things I'd been trained for, discovering myself to be a goddess wasn't one of them. I'm an advisor. A military advisor. A captain in the Raheiran Special Forces. That's all."
"And a Kiasidira," Mack said.
"That only makes me a sorceress. I'm neither immortal nor omnipotent. I can make mistakes. I've already made more than a few." She hoped her candor wasn't another one.
Brogan leaned back in her chair. She looked stricken. "I've prayed to you."
"I'm sorry. I'm sure Merkara or Ixari heard you, though."
"No, they wouldn't." Brogan seemed truly upset. "You're Fleet's patroness."
"I'm not."
"You've blessed our ships," Brogan persisted.
"I haven't."
Brogan stared at her. In spite of Gillie's shielding, some of the young woman's disbelief and disappointment filtered through. Gillie wrapped her arms around her midsection, feeling inexplicably bereft. Destroying someone's dreams hurt her more than she'd thought it would.
It will work out, Gillaine Kiasidira.
Will it, Simon? She hung her head for a moment and let his gentle reassurance wash over her. What she really wanted was Mack's arms around her. Best forget that idea, now and forever. He didn't seem any more pleased with her confession than Brogan was.
She forced her shoulders back, ran her hand through her hair as if by doing so she could remove what was left of the woman called Gillie. It was time for Captain Davré to make an appearance.
"Those are the facts, ladies and gentlemen. You have my sincerest apologies for being a fraud. However, Simon and I are not without resources, without talents. We faced a similar situation a few weeks ago. Well, to you it was over three hundred years ago." She shrugged. "But to us it was only a few weeks. We remember clearly how the Fav'lhir and their mages react, how they think. Fortunately for the Khalar, the Fav'lhir don't have a similar advantage. They believe they're facing only your Fleet. They have no idea that once again, they'll be facing me."
She didn't know if she could stop them, but they were about to feel the full brunt of her anger. She almost pitied the poor bastards. But for them, she'd have had a nice quiet life with Mack by her side. And Brogan would've had her answered prayers and Fitch Tobias would've had his Lady to revere. The Fav were still thirty hours out from Cirrus One, had yet to fire a shot but they'd already laid waste to the Gods only knew how many hopes and dreams.
Gillaine, Kiasidira, Ciran Rothalla Davré fully intended to make them pay for that, and more.
She let Simon do most of the talking after that. He was far more fluent in certain technicalities than she was and had a good rapport with Tobias and Pryor. Though Mack, she noted, seemed wary. But that might only be because Simon had helped perpetrate the fraud that was Lady Kiasidira. Mack was no doubt upset over that. Justifiably so.
He didn't object to the plans she and Simon offered. Of course, Tobias had had a great deal of input in their design, and Fitch Tobias, Gillie suspected, had been trained by one Admiral Rynan "Make It Right" Makarian.
He hadn't been happy, however, over her decision to be on the front lines. The fact that she'd been there before didn't sway him. Nor did the fact that Tobias would accompany her on her ship. Gillie found herself alternately furious with his protective attitude, and secretly flattered.
He cared, even if only in some small, very respectful way. Now if she could just get him to stop calling her Lady Gillaine or worse, Lady Kiasidira, she'd feel she'd accomplished something.
Schematics of her Raptor-class crystalship appeared on the room's screens. Simon explained its enhanced capabilities and what functions it could share through links he and Tobias had been building on Cirrus. "And with the Vedritor, Admiral. Lieutenant Tobias and I had hoped we'd be able to integrate certain elements of crystal technology on your flagship as well."
Mack's elbows were on the arms of his chair, his fingers steepled before his face. "Tell me."
"Primarily, your scanner and sensor array. A filter to detect a cloaked ship. Much of what we've already done here."
"What kind of cloaking capabilities do the Fav'lhir have?"
Simon swiveled slightly to face Gillie. She uncrossed her arms and stepped away from the wall she'd been leaning against for the past twenty minutes. "Rudimentary, according to what I was able to glean from Faydra Trace. When Simon and I destroyed their ship, and their mageline, the Fav also lost much of the attendant technology. So much was keyed to the Melandan mages. Foolish on their part, because there were so few to begin with." Less than two dozen, and she knew of twenty who'd died with the Hirlhog. "That's why we, the Raheira, have always had restrictions on integrating our magicks into cultures that had no natural mageline. The culture would only become dependent on us for its growth, rather than learning to grow with its own talents. I think that's been proven because the Khalar have prospered, expanded into the quadrant. It's taken the Fav'lhir three hundred years to regain their space legs. And again, they're looking to a few Melandan mages to lead the way."
"Minus one Grel Tel'ard," Mack said evenly.
For the first time since she'd come into the conference room, he met her gaze without lowering his eyes. Something soared inside Gillie. It was such a small gesture, the ability to look someone in the eyes as an equal. Maybe, just maybe, they could be friends. It was more than she dared hope for.
"Minus one Grel Tel'ard," she agreed. "I can only guess at the holes in Blass's training because of his reliance on the magecabinet. If he was one of their best, and he certainly seemed to think so, then much of their magicks is rough, unsophisticated. Wasteful of energy," she explained, seeing Pryor's bushy white eyebrows knit into a frown. "Think of magick like music. It takes hours of practice to play a simple melody. Even more training to perform something complex. Add a good teacher," she smiled at Simon, "with an abundance of patience, and you can do more."
"Aren't there books?" Rand asked.
Gillie shook her head. "Only in the beginning, and then very few. Tarkir learned books could be stolen, fall into the wrong hands. The knowledge and the training was then given to mentors, who were granted the ability to chose their students based not only ability, but intent. Nothing's been written down since Lady Melande almost killed Rothal-kiarr. Eons and eons ago."
"But mentors could be killed, the knowledge lost," Rand said.
"If we'd remained human, yes," Simon said after Gillie nodded to him. "But a nanoessence energy field can adapt and survive in many forms."
Tobias raised one finger in the air. "As long as we're on that subject..."
"Let's get back to the original suggestion, first." Mack tapped the screen. "How long would it take to upgrade the Vedritor's scanners?"
Gillie exchanged a glance with Simon. "Four, maybe five hours," she said. "Simon's already established templates here. It's really only a matter of installing them."
"Would you be willing to do that? It would require your presence on the Vedritor, Captain Davré."
Captain Davré. Not Lady Kiasidira. Captain Davré. That caught Gillie's attention.
"Lieutenant Tobias and I can handle the Serendipity quite well," Simon intoned. "And in the few hours it takes the fleet to reach the beacons, you should be able to recalibrate the ship's sensors to link with ours."
There was no overriding reason she had to be on the Serendipity other than it was her ship. Hers and Simon's. Simon was perfectly capable of handling the crystalship by himself. And if she were on the Vedritor, they could do more.
That was a logical reason for Mack to want her presence there. Her heart, however, still held out hope for the illogical. She nodded her agreement. "Absolutely."
Whatever comment he intended was cut short by the pinging of his commbadge. He touched it. "Makarian."
"The Vedritor's just confirmed with our tugs, sir. Captain Adler says they'll be at dock in thirty minutes."
"Acknowledged." He shoved himself to his feet. "I think we all know what happens from here."
Well, she knew what she had to do next. She, Simon and Tobias had a final meeting with Izaak and his father, Jared. And the parrots. It would be Izaak's job, aided by the wardstones she'd place throughout the atrium, to direct the parrots through the music of his flute. Mack's avian invaders would finally earn their keep.
But what would happen in the hours ahead with Mack on the Vedritor, she had no idea. She did, however, have hopes. But no guarantee she'd live long enough to see them materialize.