Angels and Ministers of Grace

by Michelle O'Leary

  "Sorry, baby. I'd let you sleep, but…" Anya shrugged her helplessness, and Ces groaned miserably, grinding her fists into her eyes like a child. Then she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed as Anya stood to give her room. Grumbling under her breath, she staggered to her feet and across the cabin into the lavatory.

  "Okay," Anya said, as she turned to the other two, "let's find those cloaks."

  They searched through the luggage until they had four voluminous cloaks with hoods that would shadow their features enough not to be recognized. Laying hers aside, Anya sat on the bed and methodically began French-braiding her long, snow-white hair. It was a calming ritual to prepare her for what was ahead, and the other two were handling things in similar ways. Rie had contorted herself into a meditative position, and Jar was pacing deliberately along the length of the cabin.

  Only Ces, when she emerged from the lav, seemed to be a bundle of nerves. Sitting down next to Anya as she finished tying off her hair, Ces fidgeted in an endless way that tightened the muscles of Anya's neck until she was gritting her teeth. "Will you do mine, too?" the redhead asked plaintively, and Anya was on the verge of snapping at her to do her own hair when she realized that Ces needed to be soothed. She wasn't the type to meditate—she needed someone to calm her. With a soundless sigh, Anya turned her friend so that she could brush her wild red tresses and begin braiding.

  By the time the ship gave a final shudder and was still in its berth, the four women were calmly assembled by the hatch, waiting for the captain to break the seal. He ambled down the corridor toward them, glancing at their strange attire with raised eyebrows. "Well, we're at Far Reach. If you ladies need anything else, you just remember Captain Treshi."

  "You've been very gracious, Captain. All we need now is for our baggage to be unloaded by customs and your obligation to us is finished."

  When Anya said nothing else, he shifted uncomfortably and then pressed the hatch release. "That's no problem. This is a tightly run station, and the loaders are first class. You won't have to wait at all."

  "Good to hear. Thank you, Captain."

  That was all the attention she could spare the man. Without anything further, she swept past him and into the airlock, feeling her three companions crowding in close behind. When the station's systems were satisfied that the pressure was equalized, the door at the other end of the airlock opened for them and they moved into the docking area.

  People in gray uniforms bustled all over the area, and Anya could feel the sudden pressure of so many increasing her anxiety to a fine edge. Without hesitation, though, she headed for the customs area where passengers checked in and their identity, in the form of their DNA, was logged into the station's system. Once logged, this became public knowledge, and anyone—including their stalker—would know exactly when they'd arrived. It was here that Anya planned on thwarting such easy access, at least for a while.

  The young man standing at the archway didn't even bother to look up at them as they approached. "Please place a hand or other appendage on the scanner. Are you here for business or pleasure?"

  "I'm afraid I can't do that," Anya murmured gently, and the young man's head snapped up in surprise.

  "Sorry?" He eyed the four of them with discomfort, shifting the scanner from one hand to the other.

  "I can't allow you to scan me. I'll only register with Lieutenant Commander Salvatore."

  "But…but why?"

  "He's head of security, right? I'm afraid my situation is a matter of life and death, and I need to see him." Her voice took on a harder edge as he stared at her blankly. "Now."

  Shifting again, he glanced around as if looking for rescue. "Ma'am, he's a very busy man. I don't think I can—"

  "Yes, you can. You have no choice. We'll wait right here for him." Very gently and with a stab of guilt, Anya pushed him. He folded like a wet noodle.

  "I'll try my best, but it might be a while. Why don't you wait over there, out of the way?"

  He gestured over to where their luggage was being piled with swift efficiency, and then he edged through the archway. Anya had a sudden lunatic urge to dive after him and just disappear into the station, but reined it in. When the TG operative arrived, they would be virtually helpless without protection, no matter what Jar said about her talent.

  Turning to her friends, she motioned them over to the spot that the customs officer had indicated. "Stay close, keep your eyes open, and whatever you do, try not to call attention to yourselves."

  She got shadowy nods from within their hoods as they huddled together toward the stacked luggage. Anya took up a position in front of them as they backed against the baggage, swallowing dryly as she searched the crowded docking bay for anyone out of place. She hadn't ever set eyes on the Guild man, but he was as distinctive to her as a shout. She'd know him if she saw him—and possibly before that.

  Peripherally she was aware that the young customs officer had returned to his place and was studiously ignoring them. She also became aware of two armed persons loitering close by. Giving them the benefit of a calm direct stare, she admitted to herself that they might end up as prisoners after all. Trying not to think negatively, she set herself to wait.

  Chapter 2

  It took longer than she'd thought. She was starting to see shadows everywhere by the time Salvatore came through the archway. Anya recognized him immediately, but was stunned by the difference between this man and his holo. The holographic Salvatore had been stone, but the live version was a controlled tempest, fierce boiling life held to reasonable levels by an act of will. He had a short conversation with the customs officer before snatching the scanner from the youngster with a look of searing contempt.

  Anya winced in sympathy for the young man before gulping in trepidation as Salvatore turned and prowled toward them. The set expression on his face was not encouraging. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and reminded herself that she was responsible for the safety of the three standing behind her.

  Salvatore stopped in front of her and gave each of them a hard look. Distractedly, Anya registered that he was an attractive man, with regular features, dark hair and even darker eyes, set off nicely by the blue of his uniform. Those eyes fixed on her, and she tried not to cringe at the flat grimness in them.

  "Peterson tells me you refused to be scanned—" he began in a voice tight with controlled force, but he stopped abruptly when Anya reached out and touched a finger to the surface of the scanner without ceremony. Briefly though—her hands were trembling visibly, and she didn't want him to see. Tucking her hands back into the folds of her cloak, she watched him frown as the scanner checked her DNA from the print she'd left there. She knew the instant her name appeared.

  His expression went blank and his head shot up, but there was more than enough to read in his eyes. No longer flat, they speared her with a vibrant force that drove all the way to her toes and stopped her breathing. It lasted only a second before he glanced back down at the scanner. She had no idea what that look meant, but she fought for calm, breathing carefully through the thunder of her heart.

  "The Anya Vaedrin. The singer."

  His voice was toneless and not a question, but she answered anyway. "Yes." Clearing her throat uncomfortably at the breathless sound of her own voice, she continued, "My companions are part of my original crew. Jarden Malcolm, Cesna Conrad, and Rie of Thlassna."

  Without expression, he held out the scanner and her three companions took turns touching its surface. When all were registered, he looked at Anya again, and she felt her stomach clench at the sudden anger she felt baking off of him. Strangely, his eyes had returned to their flat expression, and when he spoke, his tone was conversational.

  "I don't know what brings you out so far and I don't really care. If you think your face and fame will bring you special treatment, Earth Angel, you're seriously mistaken." The contemptuous curl of his lip as he said her nickname made Anya wince. His voice was starting to rise, and she felt an answe
ring panic at the attention he was drawing. "I have an entire station to run, and I can't take time out to cater to the whims of some spoiled little rich girl who thinks the entire universe revolves—"

  Anya held out a hand toward him, trying to stem the rising flood of his anger. "Please!" He stopped and stared at her as that one word hung between them. After a moment she continued, trying to keep her voice from shaking, "I would never be so petty and inconsiderate. What I told your man was true—it is a matter of life and death. Please, we need your help."

  He glanced down at the hand she'd extended, and when she noticed that her slim fingers were trembling visibly, she jerked her hand back into the cloak. Biting her bottom lip in aggravation, she watched him watch her with a kind of speculation. After a moment, he grimaced and ran an impatient hand through his dark hair, making it spike in all directions. "All right, we'll talk in my office. This better be good," he finished in a low mutter under his breath, but Anya heard it and flinched.

  So far, their relations with Far Reach were not going well. Turning to her friends, Anya mouthed the words "stay close" before following after the station's second in command. She nearly had to trot to catch up with him as he passed through the archway, and she tried to give the customs officer an apologetic look, but his head was hung dejectedly and he didn't see.

  They traveled down one corridor after another, obviously not taking the public ways through the station to get to his office. Anya supposed that this was the quickest way and he wasn't doing it for their benefit, but she was grateful, nonetheless. The less exposure they had, the safer they were.

  They finally reached a set of doors that opened at his touch, and he walked in without seeing if they followed. As a matter of fact, he hadn't once checked to be sure that they were behind him on their trek through the station. Anya had a moment's irritation before he turned to them, leaning casually on the edge of his desk with crossed arms.

  "All right, what's a matter of life and death?"

  Anya made sure that her friends were with her and the doors were closed, waving her companions to chairs that were set up along one wall before facing him. His eyes were narrowed on her, but that was the only visible expression of the anger that she still felt roiling under the surface of his control.

  Taking a deep breath, she began with caution, "It would be better if you could reach the captain and have her join us. That way I can tell you both."

  "You can tell me now," he snapped, his tone hard and unyielding, but Anya didn't budge. This was too important, and time was not on their side.

  "I have to tell you both. I may as well do it once instead of twice."

  He fixed a stony look on her, but she held herself still, holding his gaze calmly. She didn't want to antagonize him, but on this she had to stand firm. For long minutes they stared at each other, neither backing down, and Anya started wondering how long this would last when the door slid open and a stocky man sauntered in, his uniform proclaiming him to be one of the station's crew. He was looking down at something in his hand and didn't see them.

  "Hey, LC, Jonas ain't givin' over—" His gaze rose above the object in his hand, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw that Salvatore wasn't alone. "Oh sorry, boss. I didn't know—" He came to attention, his face turning a bright red all the way to his shiny bald top.

  Salvatore glanced over at him casually, almost negligent in his attention. Anya would have thought he wasn't concerned at all with the man's entrance except she'd seen a muscle in his jaw clench when he was forced to look away from her. "Let's see it, Coop."

  The older man stepped forward stiffly and handed him a flat pad. Salvatore touched the screen and quickly glanced over what was there before handing it back to the bald man.

  "Tell him he's barred from Whitey's for good if he doesn't roll."

  The man grinned in quick appreciation for a moment before remembering his boss's guests and sobering. "Yes, sir. I'll report when he talks." He sketched a quick salute and nodded abruptly at Anya before marching out the door.

  Salvatore returned his dark gaze to Anya, but now it was guarded instead of demanding. After assessing her for another moment, a swift frown passed over his face before he stood and rounded the desk. Touching the screen there, he waited a second until a woman's curt voice responded. Anya couldn't see the screen, but she was sure it was the captain and drew a long silent breath of relief. One step at a time, she thought.

  "I have a situation here, Captain. Could you come to my office?"

  "On my way," was the abrupt response, and Salvatore straightened. His eyes met hers again as he rounded the desk and for the first time he smiled at her. It wasn't a pleasant smile, though, and she couldn't help a slight shiver at the dangerous edge to it. "And so you get your way again, Angel. The captain's coming."

  She dropped her eyes in consternation. Her relations with this man were going from bad to worse. "My name is Anya," she murmured with quiet force, and the room fell silent as they waited. Glancing over her shoulder, she checked on her friends. All three were watching her anxiously, but Jar gave her a bracing smile when she caught her eye. She smiled back, hoping the shadow of her hood hid the strain on her face.

  The wait was mercifully short. The door slid open, and a woman marched through, smaller than Anya had been expecting. Her face had a stern kind of beauty, dark hair pulled in a neat, intricate coil at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were lively and curious as she swept her gaze over the four of them.

  Something about her carriage and the potential of a smile around her mouth reassured Anya immensely. Pulling the hood off of her head to reveal herself, she stepped toward the woman with a quick smile and was immediately rewarded as startled joy bloomed on the other woman's face.

  "Anya Vaedrin! I can't believe it!" She took Anya's hand in a firm handshake. "I'm a huge fan, really. I don't know what moved you to come to the ends of the universe out here at Far Reach, but I'm thrilled. Dare I hope that you've come to give us a show and aren't just visiting?"

  In the face of the older woman's hopeful smile, Anya winced and slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Captain. I wish I could say that's all that brought me here, but…" She glanced from the captain to Salvatore. He was watching her with a strange stillness about him and a glitter in his dark eyes. It offset the captain's warm greeting, and she stepped back, clasping her hands together for courage. "I was chased here. I'm being pursued by an agent from the Telepath Guild."

  She pressed her lips together and watched them anxiously. They looked at each other, but surprisingly she sensed no fear. Salvatore lifted his eyebrows in cryptic enquiry at his commander, and the captain's lips curved up in a faint smile before she returned her calm gaze to Anya. "And what would the 'Paths want with you?"

  Not a single one of the other stations had asked. They'd been too busy trying to get rid of her and save themselves the trouble of dealing with the Guild. For a moment, Anya was flustered into silence. A quick look over her shoulder showed the others in the same state of amazement. Clearing her throat, she took a breath and started the part of the story that she'd never had a chance to tell before. "I'm a tel-empath."

  "A what?" Captain Jamison frowned at her and moved to lean against the desk next to her second.

  "A tel-empath. Most empaths are weak, not like telepaths. Empaths aren't seen as strong enough for the Guild to bother with, so they don't have to register like telepaths do. I tested as an empath as a child, and at that time I was weak, so they left me alone. But then puberty hit, and my talent got much stronger all of a sudden…" Anya paused, taking another deep breath. She'd never told this story to strangers before, and the curious, intent expressions on their faces made it difficult.

  "I wasn't prepared for it. You know, they train telepaths to block thoughts from a young age, but I was an empath. Nobody had taught me how to block people out. All that emotion flowing into me, rivers of it…it was like drowning. Everybody thought I'd gone crazy—they didn't think to test me again. They
put me in an institution, gave me drugs, and locked me up in a padded room." She pulled the end of her braid over her shoulder and looked at the pure white strands with a thoughtful frown. "This happened almost overnight, or at least it seemed that way. I don't know if it was the drugs or I just learned how, but over time I was able to block more and more. After a while, I learned that I could project feelings and emotions onto others." She paused to see if they understood. "I could make them feel what I wanted them to feel. I found out I was a tel-empath."

  "Fascinating. I've never heard of such a thing." Marta Jamison was eyeing her with a cautious speculation.

  "I don't know if I'm the only one. Maybe others are still locked up somewhere, who knows? All I know is that the Telepath Guild found out and they're after me because of it. They want to find out how I do it, but I don't think they care how they get the info. I've felt the man they sent after me and—" She shuddered, hunching her shoulders as if against an unseen blow. "He's a predator. If he can take me alive, then he's okay with that, but from what I could read from him, dead is okay, too."

  The captain's expression hadn't changed, and she noticed that Salvatore didn't look at all impressed. Nibbling on her lower lip, she decided on a more direct approach. "I can see you don't believe me. Would a demonstration help?"

  Jamison's eyebrows shot up. "A demonstration? Like what?"

  "Well, as I said, I can project emotions and feelings onto others. For example, I can make you hungry." With a slight smile, she followed words with action, and the captain's mouth dropped open as her stomach growled loudly.

  Salvatore shifted against the desk, a glower darkening his face. "Power of suggestion. Besides, it's almost lunch."

  On impulse, Anya smiled sweetly at him as she retorted, "Should I make you fall in love with me, then?"

  He didn't move or twitch at all, but the sudden roll of anger that expanded out from him wiped the smile off of her face in an instant. Looking away, she tried not to show that she could sense the emotion pouring from him or how much it unnerved her.