"It wasn't suggestion," the captain murmured, her eyes showing a quiet kind of amazement. "I had a late breakfast. As soon as she stopped looking at me, I wasn't hungry anymore."
The older woman didn't look upset by this, which was a good sign. She seemed astounded, but still receptive, and Anya deliberately turned her full attention to the captain and away from the infuriated second as she got to the point.
"Captain, I'm here to beg for sanctuary for myself and my friends. I have done nothing wrong but be what I am. I've broken no laws, and under the Guild's own charter, empaths are not required to register or be answerable to them. We've asked at several stations and bases, but no one was willing to even listen. You are our last hope. Please, I have no other way to protect my friends except to give myself up to the Guild."
Anya fell silent, cursing herself inwardly for adding that last part. She kept herself still and did not look over her shoulder at her three companions. They really hadn't needed to know the lengths she was willing to go to keep them safe, and she was likely to hear about it later. Over and over again at full volume.
The captain was also silent, eyeing her with an unreadable expression. With an effort, Anya squelched the sudden urge to fidget under that assessing look, knowing the other woman had to be weighing her options. If she protected the four of them from the TG agent, she would be indirectly defying the Guild. That was a very dangerous thing to do. The telepaths were a very influential group, integrated as they were in all aspects of politics, business, and even the military.
"Do you know," the captain began conversationally, "that Far Reach has another name? Being on the rim of human controlled space, we get quite a lot of visitors here. Most of them aren't human. I'm sure you know the usual exclusionary policies that most of human space has towards alien species. We aren't like that here. This station has earned the nickname 'Free Zone' because all are welcome…even tel-empaths on the run." A sudden warm smile lit her face. "Of course, you'll have sanctuary here."
Anya gasped as sudden relief brought tears to her eyes. Reaching out, she clasped the captain's hand in both of hers, feeling the explosion of surprised relief from her friends. "Thank you. I can't tell you how grateful I am."
The other woman's face gentled, and Anya wondered how she'd ever thought the captain was diamond hard. She was suddenly enveloped in a hug from behind, and she turned around into the relieved babble of her three friends. Giving them all hugs and sending them a warm wave of affection, she remained cautious enough to sense Salvatore lean close to his captain.
"You sure about this?" she heard him ask quietly. He didn't sound angry, just curious.
"It's time," Captain Jamison answered in a serene voice, and Anya slanted a look at them with wary curiosity. The older woman smiled reassurance and stepped toward their group. "I believe I recognize your companions from the vids. They're your background singers, right?"
Remembering her manners, Anya introduced her friends, who thanked the captain with a humble sincerity that gave her another guilty pang. They had done nothing to deserve what was happening to them, except be her friend.
The captain was gracious with them, but her eyes lingered on Rie for a long, curious moment. "You truly are a Thlassnian. I thought your appearance was just for show."
Rie smiled at her placidly. "As did most of our audience."
The captain looked for a moment as if she might have more to say, but something in Rie's face seemed to change her mind. She inclined her head slightly before smiling at them all. "I would love to stay and chat, but I've left things in a bit of a knot to come here. I'll leave you to the lieutenant commander. Jace is very good at his job—you're in good hands. When he has you safe and settled, I'll come by and we'll have a nice long sit-down." Smiling as they murmured thanks again, she turned to her second. "Keep me informed."
He nodded briskly, and she swept out with as much energy as she'd marched in. Swiveling around the end of his desk, Salvatore activated the screens on its surface as he sat. He no longer seemed angry to Anya, but she still had the sense of vivid energy, now forced into a fine edge of concentration. Glancing up at them, he said, "You'll want to sit. This'll take time." That was all the attention he spared them for a few minutes, busy juggling information on several screens.
Anya herded her friends back to the chairs, and they all sat gingerly, no longer riding on the wave of relief that the captain's warm generosity gave them. After a moment though, Ces leaned toward Anya, irrepressible as always. "He's gorgeous," she whispered in Anya's ear.
Rolling her eyes, she glanced at the redhead with mild exasperation. "You think all men are gorgeous."
Cesna lifted her chin haughtily, an expression that was at odds with her round, open features. "Not all…just most." Then she leered at the lieutenant commander's bent head. "This one more than most."
Anya stared at her, feigning amazement. "You'd jump right into a cage with a snarling tiger, wouldn't you?"
Ces gave her a doe-eyed look that was spoiled by the laughter trembling around her mouth. "Tigers are pretty."
They snickered together for a moment before Rie stuck a sharp elbow into Anya's side, calling her attention back to Salvatore. Catching her eye, he motioned for her to approach. When she was standing in front of his desk, he questioned her without looking up from the screens on his desk.
"What's this agent look like?"
"I have no idea. I've never seen him."
"Then how do you know it's a man?"
"I've felt him."
That brought his eyes up to meet hers, but they were distant, as though his thoughts were somewhere else. After a second's study, he glanced back down. "There's just one?"
"Ah…I think so."
"You don't know?"
"Not for sure."
"Is he an actual telepath, or a merc they hired?"
"A telepath."
"And you're sure about that?"
"Oh yes."
His eyes met hers again. It must have been the revulsion in her voice. "If he is a 'Path…"
He didn't get to finish that thought. The door slid open, and the balding man who'd barged in before stepped smartly inside. This time he held himself at attention and didn't glance once at his boss' visitors. "You called, sir?"
"Lieutenant, I need you to take a squad and sweep sector seven. Make sure there're no lurkers hanging around and be sure to check the ventilation shafts. We'll be setting up a protected base in one of the rooms—twelve, I think—so get the sniffers down there."
"Yes, sir." The older man seemed mildly curious, but he turned to execute his orders without question.
"Oh, and Coop, get Stevens to check the roster of the customs detail. We're on alert, and we can't have babes down there waving every Jack Daniel through the door." A bit of acid slipped into his tone, and the lieutenant made a face that looked like agreement.
"Yes, sir, I'll see to it." He did a credible about-face, but caught sight of the four women and nearly stumbled over his own feet when he did a double take. Flushing and spluttering something under his breath, he weaved out of the room.
Salvatore watched the doors slide shut with a wry twist to his mouth before turning his dark gaze on Anya. "The Angel strikes again," he muttered, and the contempt in his tone grated on her nerves. She didn't know why he was so antagonistic towards her, but she was getting sick of it.
Planting her hands on his desk, she leaned over, holding his gaze grimly. "My name is Anya," she said in a tight, controlled tone.
After a moment he gave her a stiff smile, dark eyes snapping with life. "So you said."
Fuming at his dry drawl, she straightened and folded her arms mutinously across her chest, but didn't break eye contact. His smile tightened at the edges with what looked like genuine amusement before he tilted his head slightly to one side.
"Thirsty?"
"What?" She frowned at him in confusion until he touched a control and part of the wall to his right slid open, revealing ro
ws of bottles.
"Help yourself," he murmured indifferently, bending his attention back to the screens in front of him.
Glaring at his dark head, she moved to inspect what he had in the cold unit. It was mostly water and juice—she'd been expecting alcohol and wasn't sure why—and a couple of bottles of a carbonated drink she didn't recognize. Grabbing several water bottles, she crossed the room to her friends and handed them out before sitting down.
Cesna didn't open her water right away, watching Anya with a twinkle in her brown eyes. "I see you like pretty tigers, too."
Anya didn't think that was the least bit funny.
Chapter 3
Time dragged by for the four women with nothing to occupy their time except watching Salvatore work. He spoke with others over the vids and when they would make a brief appearance in his office, but Anya didn't get much out of his terse orders and cryptic comments. She did notice that he never once mentioned her talent to any of his people. Maybe he still didn't believe her or maybe he'd decided that he couldn't rely on her talent to assist in their protection. With good reason, she supposed—it wasn't like she could maintain a constant state of alert. She wouldn't have the concentration or the energy for it, and besides, she'd need to sleep eventually.
Just when her rear was going as numb as her brain from the inactivity, the balding lieutenant returned, saluting his commander crisply. "All set, sir."
Salvatore acknowledged this with a nod and rose to his feet, putting something that Anya thought might be a communicator in his ear. "Time to go." If he was surprised by how quickly they jumped up and gathered in front of him, he didn't show it. "This is the man who's going to be in charge of your protection, Lieutenant Francis Cooper."
The older man shot his boss a quelling look before smiling down at Anya engagingly. "Just Frank, ma'am. We probably won't be friends if you call me Francis."
"Frank it is, then," she answered with a grin and started to introduce herself and her companions.
He held up a hand to stop her. "I know who you all are, ma'am. We're pleased to have you here at Far Reach."
"Well, I doubt that with all the trouble we've caused you. But if we're going to be friends, you need to drop the ma'am and call me Anya."
"Yes ma'am," he responded with a twinkle in his faded blue eyes before stepping to one side and waving them courteously towards the door.
Shaking her head, she started forward and cast Salvatore a sidelong look, unable to resist a quick dig. "Seems everyone's having trouble with my name today."
To her disappointment, he didn't seem to notice the dry comment, waving them out impatiently.
Outside, there were four armed guards waiting. Salvatore gave them curt instructions to flank the women, not to bunch up, and to keep their eyes open. Their business-like attitudes were both reassuring and sobering. Anya and her friends may have gotten sanctuary from these people, but that didn't mean complete safety.
As they moved off down the corridor, Anya gave her own instructions for her companions to stay close and pull up their hoods, giving them a reassuring smile when she felt their anxiety level increase. At first, the corridors that they traversed were practically empty, with only the occasional human in uniform passing them. After a few minutes, though, they seemed to be getting out of the service areas of the station and into more public venues.
Seeing the inhabitants of the station was an eye-opening experience. The four of them were well traveled since they'd given concerts on all the major planets in human space, but they'd never seen such a concentration of alien species before. They hadn't noticed the marks on the ceiling until an insectoid scrambled by over their heads, making them duck in surprise. Cesna gave a little squeak, and even Rie craned her neck to watch it disappear down the corridor behind them.
"You get used to 'em," one of the guards murmured, giving them a quick smile. "Shrieks usually ignore us soft-bodies—just don't get close to their hive."
Wide-eyed, Anya and her crew slowed as they passed a large archway, astounded by the variety of people they saw in the open market place just beyond. Her friends whispered excitedly about what they saw to one another.
"Did you see the—"
"What the hell is that?"
"The tentacles…and that thing with the hump—"
But after the first glance, Anya was nearly frozen mid-stride. Managing to keep moving past the archway, she increased her speed, shifting as casually as she could between the guards until she was directly behind Frank and Salvatore. Trying to keep from being overheard by her friends, she said tensely, "He's here. I felt him as we passed by the arch."
Both of them stopped so abruptly that Anya almost ran into them. Salvatore turned toward Frank, but the older man was already whirling away. "I'm on it!" Pressing the communicator in his ear, he began snapping orders as he went back down the corridor and through the archway.
The guards were looking askance at Salvatore, but he caught Anya's arm in a firm grip and turned her in their original direction. "Keep moving," he barked as he strode down the corridor.
Anya had to skip to keep up, his hold keeping her from checking on her companions, but she could feel their sudden fear and sent a wave of reassurance and calm to them without thinking about it. When Salvatore twitched and tightened his hold, she realized that it wasn't her brightest move.
"What the— Was that you?" His expression would have been comical under different circumstances.
Grimacing in apology, she nodded. "Sorry, I didn't think. It wasn't meant for you, but since you're touching me, you felt some of it."
He glanced down at his hand as if only now noticing that he was holding her arm, and then dropped it as though burned. Anya tried not to feel rejected. Pressing his own communicator, he spoke tersely, "Stevens, report."
Anya didn't hear what Stevens had to say, but whatever it was only made Salvatore's expression harden into grim lines. She could probably assume that it wasn't good news. Before he could think to send her back into the guards' circle with her companions—and keep her in the dark—she dared a question. "He slipped through customs?" He gave an abrupt nod and she winced. "Then he's a ghost…"
The station could track anyone whose DNA was registered in its system, but if the telepath was able to avoid getting registered, he could go anywhere in the station without the system being aware of it. The human side of the system was just as fallible—the telepath had already proven that he could be invisible, even to a group of people looking specifically for him.
Salvatore didn't answer, but as they reached an open area where several corridors met, he took her arm again in a firm clasp. Anya glanced up at him, but he didn't seem to realize that he'd done it. The group arrowed through the area, making a beeline for the level hoppers. They got some curious looks, but no one got in their way or tried to join them as they all boarded one tube. The trip was swift, and when they disembarked, the corridor in front of them was completely deserted.
"This is sector seven. It's been unoccupied by anything but the occasional lurker for a while now. People get nervous living this close to the Shriek hive," Salvatore said in a surprisingly approachable tone. He seemed a bit more relaxed, but his words weren't very comforting.
"The…hive?" Anya asked faintly, remembering what the guard had said earlier.
"We've made arrangements with the Hive Queen."
"Oh? Uh huh…" Somehow that didn't make her feel any better. In this instance, ignorance was definitely not bliss. She was about to ask just what the heck Shrieks were anyway when she noticed movement up ahead. As they approached a turn in the corridor, Anya could see guards posted there. They stood at attention as the group drew closer.
"The perimeter systems are up and running?" Salvatore asked briskly.
"Yes, sir. It caught the movement of the tube and your approach, sir."
"Recognition was good?"
"Yes, sir. It identified every one of you."
With a crisp nod, Salvatore cont
inued to propel Anya down the corridor. About halfway to the next turn, she could see two more guards standing outside of a door. They snapped to attention at their approach and the one young female guard cut them an enthusiastic salute. "Sir, all vids are up and in working order."
"Good. Audio with that?"
"Yes, sir!"
"The security screens in the ventilation shafts…"
"In place and triggered. Nothing gets in there but maybe a cockroach, sir."
He finally let Anya go—she furtively rubbed at the spot to get circulation back in that limb—and keyed the door to slide open, stepping aside to let the four women enter. With nervous curiosity, Anya led them into what was now their new home.
The first thing that met their eyes was the pile of luggage in the middle of the living room floor. It drew their attention momentarily away from the small size and grunginess of the place. There was a kitchen to the left of the entryway that was open to the living room, giving the impression of one great room, except that the dimensions were cramped all the way around. A single door led off of this front area, and Anya looked over her shoulder at Salvatore in askance. "One bedroom?"
"Yes, but there was enough room for us to fit two beds in there. The lavatory leads off the bedroom—"
"Didn't you say earlier that all the units in this sector were empty? Why cram us all into one?"
He gave her a hard stare, the expression on his face suggesting that she was being unreasonable. And pushing her luck. "Why divide my forces between two or three units? One location is easier to defend."
Anya glanced at her three friends to find them watching her with varying degrees of dismay. They'd been expecting something a bit more roomy and less—well, icky. But she could see the lieutenant commander's point, so she drew a deep breath and took another look around. "Well, it is bigger than Treshi's cabin…" Giving her friends a determined smile, she moved towards the luggage. "All we need to do is unpack, give it a good cleaning, and presto! Home sweet home."
Angels and Ministers of Grace Page 3