Angels and Ministers of Grace

by Michelle O'Leary

  "The lieutenant commander said yesterday that people don't like to live this close to them and that's why this sector was empty. Why is that? Should we be concerned?"

  The captain shook her head. "Not at all. Humans don't like to live close to them for the usual stupid reasons. They're prejudiced against other alien species, even when they work side by side on a daily basis. It's something I've been trying very hard to curb, but it still happens. Our culture is sadly inclusive. We've been taught to fear those who aren't like us. Take the telepaths, for example. Most are just like us in every respect, except that they have an amazing talent, but they are ostracized, forced into slavery by the Guild just because they were born different."

  Her warm skin became lightly flushed, and Anya could see that she was very passionate about this subject. That was when Anya realized that she wasn't just grateful to Marta Jamison; she was also beginning to like her. Smiling, she listened attentively as the captain continued, "It isn't the telepaths we should be afraid of; it's the Guild that forces every man, woman, and child with even the slightest talent into service. The Guild has become a greedy tyrant, insinuating itself into every aspect of our society until we have become dependent on them."

  "Not that I disagree, but isn't that the only way the telepaths could have survived? Before the Guild was formed, telepaths were beaten in the streets, hiding like hermits, afraid for their lives."

  The captain's eyes snapped with life as she leaned towards Anya, her whole body almost vibrating with conviction. "It was one way, not the only way. The Guild should have been a sanctuary, not a monster. It should have been a path towards acceptance, not a stranglehold on our civilization! Now, the telepaths are just as victimized as they were before the Guild, just not in the same way. You yourself are the newest victim, Anya." She sat back and glanced over at the other three. "And by association, your friends are also. The Guild may have started out as a cure, but it's become a disease."

  Anya stared at her as a revelation like a bright light seemed to burn in her overtired brain. She remembered, through the anxiety of yesterday, a comment that the captain had made. It's time. "And do you know a good doctor, Captain?"

  Captain Jamison met her gaze, and a slow smile of recognition curved her lips. "Perhaps," she murmured, dark eyes twinkling. Then her expression sobered. "But the medicine's bitter…and it might not be in time."

  Staring at the complexity in the sternly beautiful woman's face, Anya made a sudden decision. What she was about to offer was a leap of faith and could possibly get her in way over her head, but she plunged forward anyway. Later, she would blame lack of sleep and the magnetic certainty in the captain's eyes for her foolishness.

  "Captain…you've been incredibly generous to us, taking us in with little more than my word to go on, even with the possibility of retaliation by the Guild. We've given you nothing in return, but I'd like to change that. I'd like to offer you my services as a tel-empath. Just as the telepaths are used, you can use me. I can't read thoughts, but I can tell if someone is lying or has bad intentions. I can smooth ruffled feathers in matters of diplomacy. I can even stop riots, if it comes to that—"

  The captain was shaking her head, holding up a hand to stop her. "I can't accept. I didn't give you sanctuary expecting anything in return. That's my job. I won't let you compromise yourself in some misguided act of atonement—"

  "It's not atonement! I want to help. I don't know much about your station, but from what you've told us, it sounds like a great place. I know I won't be going home again, for the very reasons we've been talking about. No matter how famous I am, I would be ostracized when people found out what I am. I want to make this my home."

  The captain continued to frown at her for another moment before her expression eased somewhat. "I still won't accept—now. If you still feel this way after this situation with the 'path has been resolved, then we'll talk again."

  "All right, that sounds fair. Thank you, Captain."

  The older woman's face broke into a sunny smile, and Anya couldn't stop herself from smiling back. "Please, call me Marta. You've done wonders with this place!" She glanced around with an admiring look that Anya found amusing, since their quarters were still little more than a cramped and dreary box. The furniture that they'd requested from station storage was by no means extravagant, but the place was clean, and they'd tried to liven it up with some decorative pieces that they'd brought with them.

  "You're being too kind, but thanks. Would you like more coffee? Or maybe some breakfast?"

  Marta accepted more coffee, but demurred on the food, saying that she usually ate later in the morning. When all cups were refreshed and they'd had a short round of small talk, the captain speared Anya with an intent look and tilted her head to one side quizzically. "If you don't mind my asking, how did the Guild find out about you? You've been very much in the public eye for some time now. It seems odd that they wouldn't have noticed you before this."

  Anya tried not to grimace in embarrassment, but she could feel her skin warming with a blush. "Well, it seems I'm too trusting." Giving a little cough, she glanced over at her friends, but only Ces was looking at her solemnly. "I met this man at a function. He was a journalist and sought me out for a story—"

  "Your first mistake," Jarden murmured from where she was leaning over the back of the couch, and Anya sent her a quelling look. The dark-skinned woman didn't seem to notice, staring intently at her own nails.

  "He seemed quite nice and was a big fan—"

  "Your second mistake," Rie sighed from the other end of the sofa. Exasperated, Anya glared at her, but she wasn't looking either. Next to her, Ces watched Anya with a merry twinkle in her eye.

  With a sigh, Anya resigned herself to what was coming and turned to finish her story. "He and I hit it off, becoming friends and then more than friends. He had no idea what I was, though, until after we became—intimate…"

  "Your worst mistake!" Cesna crowed and then snickered behind one hand, meeting Anya's irritated glance with unrepentant eyes. When she looked back at the captain, the older woman had sat back and had a hand up to hide her mouth, dark eyes dancing. Anya felt her blush deepen.

  "They're right; he was one mistake after another. He couldn't handle what I was, so we parted ways after I got his promise not to tell anyone about my talent. A few weeks later, he came to me, very broken up and confessing that he'd gone to the Guild about me. It was his one redeeming act. By telling me when he did, he gave us enough time to run."

  Marta lowered her hand, any smile she may have been hiding gone. "You were betrayed."

  "That pretty much sums it up, yes."

  "What about before that, though? How did the Guild miss you?"

  Anya shrugged a shoulder in casual dismissal. "I was registered as an empath, so they ignored me. I was a little nervous when I started getting so much public attention because I have a tendency to emit when I sing, but it turned out not to be a problem. For one thing, telepaths don't like crowds, so they most likely wouldn't come to any concerts that I gave. And for another, they aren't as sensitive to me as I am to them. I learned early on to be wary of them, but I don't think telepaths get any training on empathy, how to detect them or block them, because they've never been a threat."

  "Interesting. You…emit?"

  Anya bit her lip anxiously, not wanting to offend their host. "It's an unconscious thing. I don't do it on purpose, but I love to sing, and when I do, the feelings that the song generates in me just sort of spill out." Marta looked interested, but Anya wasn't sure if it was in a good way. Worried that they might lose their welcome, she hurried on, "It's the only time I lose control, and it's not as though I'm forcing others to feel what I do. As a matter of fact, my rule has been never to use my talent unless the other person is aware of it and has agreed to let me do it." She remembered Treshi and the customs officer with an inner wince, but set that guilt aside to deal with later. "Please don't be concerned that I'd ever try to control anyone on this
station. I consider it a very deep violation of privacy to just look into someone to see what they're feeling, let alone force feelings on them."

  The captain eyed her closely, but not without a certain kindness. "Yet you just offered to be my lie detector, my riot stopper. Doesn't that break your rule?"

  Anya dropped her gaze to her clenched hands twisting together in her lap, unnerved and unable to answer.

  "Anya, I'm not afraid of your talent, and I would never expect you to completely refrain from using it. Would a blind man expect me to close my eyes just because I can see and he can't? You're not a ticking time bomb. You are a courteous young woman who understands the tacit rules of social behavior, and I trust you not to use your talent inappropriately."

  "I do have to tell you," Anya said in a small voice, "that there are times when I can't help sensing what someone is feeling. I'm—I'm usually able to block people, but sometimes if the emotion is very strong…" Peaking up through her lashes, she was relieved to find the captain smiling in calm reassurance.

  "I don't consider that a violation of privacy. If I don't want to be overheard, should I shout? Please, I consider this subject closed, and I don't want you to concern yourself with it. And I'm very much looking forward to a live performance."

  "I'm very happy to hear you say that, Captain…Marta."

  They smiled at one another like people who suddenly realized that they used to know each other and that they'd been fast friends. Then Marta sat forward, placing her cup on the low table in front of her. "Well, I've been so busy giving you my sermon on the mount that I've practically run out of time. I had planned to ask you what you might know of this telepath." She raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

  "Nothing, really. I've told you and the lieutenant commander all I know. I became aware of him on our third stop. He tried to pick my brain, and I was able to block him. He didn't try to hide anything from me, but I couldn't pinpoint where he was. I've felt him twice since then—once at the last stop before Far Reach and once yesterday, in the market place." She didn't mention last night's fiasco, and the captain nodded as if she'd forgotten all about it. Gratefully, Anya continued, "I can't tell you much about him that I haven't said before. He seems…amused by us. Like he's enjoying the chase."

  That dry description barely scratched the surface of what she'd felt, but she didn't want to panic her friends by giving a full account of the man's hungry nature. There was a word for what she'd sensed in the hunter, but she'd never say it in front of her companions: psychopath. They'd sent a complete lunatic after her, a man who had no moral or ethical constraints about using his talent. Last night's waking nightmare just underscored that.

  "Hmm. You've never seen him? And you don't remember anything distinctive about him that might help us recognize him?"

  "No, I'm sorry to say. He didn't try to block me out, but I also wasn't interested in finding out any more about him at that time. He scared me silly." She tried to say it lightly, but knew the strain in her smile was giving her away. "I'd imagine that even if I had seen him, a physical description wouldn't help you either. He obviously doesn't care how he uses his talent and can probably force people to see him as anyone."

  The captain nodded thoughtfully and then sat forward. "You say that you can feel him. How close does he have to be?"

  "Pretty close. I wouldn't be able to sit in these quarters and search him out, if that's what you're asking. The station's too large, and there are too many people on board."

  "Yet you felt him in the market."

  "He couldn't have been more than a few meters away, and he wanted me to feel him." She smiled grimly. "I don't think he'd want me to know where he's hiding."

  Marta nodded again, and after a silent moment she stood. Anya and her companions rose as well. "Well, I've got to go, but I'll be in touch. Thank you for the coffee and the information."

  "It was a pleasure having you here, though I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful."

  Smiling, the captain moved the couple of steps to the door while the four of them trailed after her. "I wouldn't worry about all of this. We'll catch the man as quickly as we can. Especially since I'm very much looking forward to hearing you sing."

  "Marta, you don't have to wait. Come to dinner some night, and we'll give you a private show. Right, ladies?"

  Her friends were appropriately enthusiastic, each shaking Marta's hand and adding their own urgings for her to return. The captain looked flattered, but Anya had a feeling that it was more for their benefit than actual sentiment. "That's a very generous offer, considering your situation. But I wouldn't want to impose…"

  "Please, it would be a pleasure and the least we can do for a fan."

  "Then I gladly accept!" Marta beamed a warm smile that Anya couldn't help but return as they shook hands. "I certainly am a big fan of you all, but I have to say not your biggest, not aboard this station." She said this cryptic comment with a twinkle in her dark eyes and a teasing crinkle of her nose before opening the door and stepping out. "Take care and try not to worry."

  "Thank you, Captain." Anya lifted a hand in parting, watching as the woman nodded to the sentries outside her door before walking briskly down the corridor. The guards relaxed their stances as she moved away and one moved to shut the door, giving Anya a shy smile as he did so. On impulse, she stepped forward, holding out a hand to forestall him. "Say…do you boys want some coffee?"

  The guard flushed, and his eyes dropped to his shoes, but his smile widened somewhat. "Thank you, ma'am, no. We're fine."

  "Are you sure? It's fresh brewed."

  "It sure does smell good, ma'am, but we're getting off soon."

  "Please, call me Anya."

  His face turned an even darker shade of red, and he seemed at a loss for words. His partner came to his rescue. "You shouldn't be in the doorway, M—ah, Miss Vaedrin. I need to close the door now." He leaned past the other guard to do so, giving her a helpless smile as the door slid closed between them. Anya gave a small shrug and turned towards her friends.

  "They were cute," Cesna sighed, eying the closed door with a misty expression of regret.

  Anya rolled her eyes and pushed her friend back toward the sofa. "What a surprise," she drawled, and her dry tone was answered by an expressive snort from Jarden. "You are not allowed to seduce any of them, though. You got that?"

  Ces gave her a reproachful look that she didn't buy for a second. "I wouldn't do that."

  "Yes, you would."

  And she had, with almost miraculous success in the past. Cesna's red hair and her shapely form were her best physical features. Her face was actually plain, her features too round, eyes too far spaced, and mouth too large to be classically pretty. But her vivacity and zest for life more than made up for this, and Anya had seen action stop in a room when her little friend blew in.

  Leaving Ces to sit and pout, Anya looked between all three of them. "So? What did you all make of that visit?"

  Rie avoided her glance by cleaning the cups off of the table and taking them to the kitchen. Ces was still pretending to be offended. The only one who looked her straight in the eye was Jar, the one she expected to get the straightest answer from. "I think you should be more careful around her. She has an agenda."

  With a quick frown, Anya perched on the arm of the couch and eyed her friend questioningly. "You don't trust her?"

  Jar folded her arms across her chest and gave Anya a direct stare that most people would find disconcerting. Her delicate features had fooled many people into thinking she was shy or fragile, but in reality she was quite outspoken. To Anya she was a bedrock of staunch support and practical comfort.

  "I trust her to a point. But nothing that comes out of that woman's mouth is spontaneous. All I'm saying is be careful."

  Anya nodded and turned her head to find Rie in the kitchen. "Rie? What did you think of her?"

  The Thlassnian's movements slowed hypnotically as she considered the answer with her usual care. "I believe that she has
great passion. I believe that it is both a strength and a weakness in her."

  Anya sighed at this typical cryptic response and gave her friend a disgruntled look. "And what does that have to do with anything?"

  As if Anya should know, Rie glanced at her in surprise, eyes sliding through shades of blue to near purple. "It is at the root of all she does. It may be that such passion could cause her to do great things. But it may also get the better of her, and in reaching for greatness, she may unknowingly do wrong." When Anya didn't change her expression, Rie sighed and shook her head. "I agree with Jar. Be careful."

  "Thank you," Anya murmured dryly and then looked down at Ces. "And you?"

  "I liked her." Ces smiled up at her, brown eyes clear and trouble free. Anya smiled back, relieved. Ces may not have the shrewd skepticism of Jarden or the insightful awareness of Rie, but she had a very good instinct about people.

  "Me, too." Standing, Anya stretched wearily. "And I think I'm going back to bed. I didn't sleep well."

  "What about breakfast?" Jar was watching her with a crease of worry in her forehead.

  "I'm not hungry. If you guys want to practice later, go ahead. I don't think anything's going to wake me once I'm out."

  "All right. Get some rest, hon."

  Anya smiled at the motherly affection in Jar's tone and at the sympathetic pat Ces gave her on her way into the kitchen. "Be sure to wake me if anything serious happens, though."

  They murmured their agreement as she disappeared into the bedroom. Stripping quickly, she fell with a grateful sigh onto one of the beds, weariness settling on her like a stone. She expected to fall right to sleep, but she was overtired. After a few minutes she realized that she was staring with dry, scratchy eyes at the ceiling, sleep a distant thought.

  True, she had plenty of things to keep her awake. Her stalker for one. How were they supposed to catch a man who had more in common with a psychotic ghost than a human being? And then there was the captain and the offer Anya had made. What was the woman planning and how much did Anya figure into those plans, now that she'd foolishly offered herself? Her accessible funds had been tapped on their flight from home and any other funds or assets had been frozen by the Guild. They were operating as guests of the station for the moment, but if or when this situation was ever resolved, how would they make lives for themselves here?