These thoughts did occupy her, but her overtired mind kept circling back to one thing—Lieutenant Commander Jason Salvatore. It was really irritating, and she tried to make herself believe it was because she was so baffled by his attitude towards her. She'd never had someone take an instant dislike to her before, and she had no idea how to handle it. But eventually, staring with dull eyes at the featureless ceiling, she admitted that it was more than bafflement that had her thoughts spiraling back to him again and again. She should have contacted Frank last night when she'd felt the Guild man outside her door, but she'd called Salvatore instead. And even when she'd felt her stalker move away, she hadn't felt safe until she'd sensed the lieutenant commander in the corridor. That worried her—a lot.
So she was attracted to him. That wasn't a big deal. Like Cesna had said, he was gorgeous and had been especially so last night with his tousled hair and his unfastened shirt tucked carelessly into his pants, making him less stiff without his uniform and more approachable…except that he'd snarled at her and bolted at the first opportunity. It would be a big deal if her attraction was caused by some misguided crush on her 'rescuer' or, just as bad, a response to his attitude towards her, as if her attraction to him would make him warm to her. Either reason was pathetic and kept her awake for a long time.
What finally lulled her to sleep was the sound of her friends in the other room, going through their scales and voice exercises. The familiar tones soothed and relaxed her enough to drift away, though her dreams mirrored her waking thoughts too graphically for comfort.
Chapter 6
The captain sauntered into Jason's office as though she hadn't a care in the world, an attitude that put him immediately on guard. In his experience, Marta never did anything without a reason, and her aimless circling of his office made him wary as hell.
"I just had a nice visit with your charges," she began, while idly picking at a corner of his desk. "Anya Vaedrin is a remarkable young woman."
"Which means?" His tone was sharper than he'd intended, but she'd thrown him a curve already.
She cast him a wide, innocent gaze, her mouth quirking just a little at the edges. "Just that she's remarkable. She has a great store of reserves, seems honest and sincere, and is such a likeable person, really. And her talent just keeps getting more and more amazing."
"I'm glad you like her," he muttered dryly, getting his balance back and determined to keep it this time, not taking her bait about Anya's talent. "What did they have to say about the telepath?"
She gave him a smile that a wolf might run from, eyes challenging, but she allowed the change in subject. "Nothing much. She did imply that he wasn't entirely sane, but that doesn't come as much of a surprise. He'd have to be less than normal to have done what he has so far. I'm considering asking the alien telepaths on board for help in tracking him."
He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, but nodded agreeably. "That's a hell of an idea, if you can convince them. What are our choices?"
"There's the Thlassnian Dreamer, but her presence on the station is supposed to be unofficial, not public record. Besides, her telepathic abilities are limited to communication with her mates, but she may give us a prediction of the outcome if we ask nicely."
Jason leaned forward on his elbows, watching her through narrowed eyes. She was up to something, that was certain. Why else would she mention the Dreamer?
"Then there's the Verdettan monk, but even their monks are liable to drive a bargain I can't afford. I'd rather not spend precious time arguing over percentages or trading rights or whatever else he'll think up. The other choice is the Froozians…they are powerful telepaths."
"They can't communicate that way with a human. They don't even have vocal cords—they make sounds by clicking their mouthparts together. What makes you think one of them would be able to find our man?"
"Feeling negative today, Jason?" She didn't smile, but her eyes were teasing. "Nothing's impossible; I keep telling you that. I'll contact each of them and see what our options are."
"Since you're in the mood to play ambassador, want to do me a favor?"
It was her turn to look wary, and he felt a stab of satisfaction. It wasn't every day that he got the upper hand when dealing with his captain.
"And that would be?"
"Could you ask the Hive Queen if she or her offspring can sense a human telepath? I want to be sure that he can't hide in the Hive."
"I'll ask, but that's a long shot, Jace. If telepaths could fool them, they would never have swarmed here. We get too much traffic of all kinds, including telepaths."
"I hope you're right, because they'd never let us search for him. He'd have the perfect hiding place."
She nodded absently as though her mind was somewhere else, and he braced himself. That expression usually meant that they were in for an abrupt change of topic, possibly an unsettling one. He wasn't disappointed.
"Anya told me how the Guild found out about her. She was betrayed by an ex-lover." Jason tried to keep his face expressionless. She didn't need to know what that knowledge did to him. When he didn't respond, she continued, "It's amazing that they didn't know about her before then. Did you know that she emits during her concerts? She adds true emotion to her art. I'm anxious to see her perform."
Hoping that his silence would encourage her to drop this subject, he still said nothing. It didn't work. She began pacing around his office again. "They've invited me back for dinner and have promised to sing for me then. Maybe I can get the invitation extended to you." She cast him a teasing smile, dark eyes dancing, and Jason gritted his teeth in aggravation. Was that what all this was about? She just felt the need to torment him about his fascination with the singer?
"Don't you have a station to run, Marty?" His wry tone only managed to widen her smile, and she stalked towards his desk like a predator coming in for the kill.
"Don't you want to go, Jace?"
"I've got better things to do," he responded, trying for an off-hand tone, but knew it probably sounded stiff and primly self-righteous. Ducking his head away from her knowing eyes, he focused on the screens in front of him, clenching his jaw at her soft laugh. He sensed her saunter away from the desk and looked up at her back with resentment. Damned woman needed a hobby.
And she wasn't through with him yet. "Miss Vaedrin was very well spoken and seemed dedicated to making a new life for herself here."
Jason tried to keep the thrill of alarm he felt at those words off his face. He hadn't thought beyond their current situation. It hadn't occurred to him that she would stay.
"It wouldn't surprise me if she became quite the fixture on this station."
With a sound of disgust, he gave up. Sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, he glowered at her in surrender. "All right, what is it? Just spit it out and quit with the cat and mouse, already."
Whirling, she looked at him with a gleam of triumph in her dark eyes that made him tense, but her voice was a soft murmur. "No sense of fun, Jace. We'll have to see what we can do about that." Then she returned to his desk, the triumph expanding from her eyes to her mouth in a grim smile. "Miss Anya Vaedrin has generously offered her services as a tel-empath to me and this station when this telepath business is over."
"Ahh." Jace gave her a grim smile of his own. "So that's what this is about. You recruited her."
"Bite your tongue!" She had the gall to look offended. "My cause is just—people who are intelligent and compassionate come to that realization on their own."
"Sure, after a very persuasive argument from you."
"No sense of fun and cynical. Worse and worse." But he could see amusement softening the lines of her face.
"You didn't go and tell her what you mean to do, did you?"
"Now I am insulted." She really looked it, too, her expression going quietly stern. "I can't believe you'd think I was that impulsive."
"No, you wouldn't be," he conceded, the only form of apology she was going to get aft
er toying with him like she'd done. "So, do you have a full set of plans for her already?"
"There's time enough for that. And I haven't accepted her offer yet. She's not sure enough of herself, and I don't want to put trust in an uncertain talent," she said in a voice gone remote and cold. She always sounded that way when she was being practical. If they were to go ahead with what she planned, they had to be rock solid in their trust of the various players. His scalp prickled to think of the almost impossible task. "This telepath is merely the forerunner. Soon enough the devil will be knocking at our door."
She chose that as her exit line, striding out the door as though he'd ceased to exist. Grimacing, Jason ran fingers through his hair, trying to dispel the tickling sensation there. He admired her strength of character, but sometimes her idealistic views that stopped just short of fanaticism scared the hell out of him. So much could go wrong, and it wasn't just his own life at stake. But she'd effectively recruited him long ago, and he was still a believer, loyal to her and her cause.
With a sigh, he got back to the business at hand, checking on the security sweeps for the telepath. Still nothing. The man had disappeared. Grimly, he gave orders to continue, trying to boost his optimism by noting that they'd only covered about a quarter of the station so far. They could still find him.
But as it happened, they didn't. Over the next day and a half, the security teams searched the entire station, sector by sector, bulkhead to bulkhead. When they reported that they'd finished the search and that it had been unsuccessful, Jason grimly ordered them to start over. What else could he do? The telepath had made no further move on the safe zone. The Hive Queen had soundly dismissed the idea that a human could hide in her lair, telepath or not. The Thlassnians had courteously turned the captain's overtures away, saying that the Dreamer was too far down the 'Path of Seeing' to receive her. God only knew what that meant—Jason certainly didn't. The Froozians had been agreeable, but had yet to turn up any results in their telepathic searches. The captain had had three separate meetings with the Verdettan monk in an attempt to coax him to help, but lost patience, ordering him off the station in a rare show of anger. She wouldn't tell Jason what the Verdettan had asked for, but flushed a telling red every time he'd brought it up. He guessed that the monk didn't practice celibacy and had taken a fancy to his commanding officer.
Coop kept him informed of how his charges were doing. They had made no special requests other than furniture and simple provisions, which surprised him. He kept trying to put them—well, Anya, to be honest—into the category of the spoiled rich, but they were handling their cramped, reduced status well, at least on the surface. Coop also told him with some amusement that his teams were fighting over threshold duty. Apparently the ladies sang on a regular basis, which the guards could hear standing outside the door. Jason tried not to feel envious.
As for the ladies themselves, Coop was diffident. "They're a right nice bunch, LC. The one makes a mean spiced punch, and they always ask me to stay, but I think not knowing what's happening is getting to them."
Jason frowned at the balding man on the screen, aware that Coop was avoiding his gaze. "What have you told them?"
"Not much. Not really much to say, Jace."
He sighed in exasperation, reading between the lines to what his lieutenant hadn't said. Coop was hedging, not wanting to tell the ladies that they had failed in the first search. He probably hadn't told them about the other telepaths or what the Hive had said either. "For god's sake, Coop, they deserve to know what's going on."
The other man dropped his head and mumbled something that sounded like, "I didn't want to worry them."
"They need to be informed," Jason said as in as stern a tone as possible, but it didn't stop Coop from glancing up at him slyly.
"She's asked after you, you know." His stomach tightened, and he felt his face heat as Coop continued, "Would probably like to hear about it from you."
"I put you in charge, Lieutenant. It's your duty—"
"But I'm no good at that stuff, Jace. 'Sides, I'd hate to give those nice ladies bad news, after they gave me punch and all."
He tried not to let his second's wheedling tone get to him, but couldn't help an amused snort at the idea that this man, who he'd seen break heads without breaking a sweat, could back away from anything. "Coward."
"Yes, sir!" Not the least bit moved by the insult, Coop gave him an insolent grin and cut the connection.
Muttering a few more searing insults under his breath, Jason ran a distracted hand through his hair. He hadn't seen Anya or his other charges for two days. It had been deliberate, though he was busy enough for his duties to be a good excuse to stay away. He hadn't wanted to give Anya another opportunity to read what was in him—or to give his increasingly vivid dreams any more ammunition. His anger flared again at the bitter humiliation of her knowing what was in his mind when he looked at her. It launched him out of his chair and out of his office.
Fine, he would tell them. From him they would learn every disheartening detail of what was looking to be a prolonged confinement. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the others, but not for the white-haired witch who knew exactly what she did to him.
His anger carried him to the safe zone and past the perimeter guards, but it was drowned in a stab of alarm when he saw that there were no guards outside her door. Heart starting to pound, he broke into a run, only to skid to a halt as he heard the distinct sound of laughter coming from inside their quarters. Both male and female laughter.
A fresh surge of fury made his pulse throb at his temples, and his hand shake slightly as he keyed the override sequence to the door. His entrance came as a complete surprise to the occupants and most especially to the two guards.
The one guard nearly dropped his glass, and the other started to choke on his drink, spilling it down the front of his uniform as he leapt to his feet. "S-sir! We were—ah—"
The other guard rose more slowly, and Jason was gratified to see the white apprehension on both of their faces. Folding his arms across his chest, he fixed a menacing look on them, keeping his voice low with an effort. "Man your posts."
If he hadn't been so furious, it would have been amusing how quickly they scrambled past him, but humor was the furthest thing from his mind just now. When the two guards had disappeared through the door, he turned his glare on the women. On the one he was sure was responsible.
Anya's expression was a strange mix of amusement and wariness. Before he could speak, she lifted a tray that had glasses of pinkish liquid on it towards him. "Punch?" The twinkle of humor in her dark blue eyes and the almost hopeful curl of her mouth made him feel like smashing something.
"Were you so desperate," he snarled in a voice thick with anger, "for male companionship that you had to drag my people off their posts?"
The twinkle vanished, and the glasses on the tray rattled in her grip, but it wasn't fear that whitened her knuckles and made her tense. He read that in the hot fire of her eyes.
The woman with the flawless dark skin rose from her seat swiftly and took the tray, shooting him a wry glance as she headed into the kitchen. "That was a low blow, Sal."
The redhead also stood and began swaying towards him, an open invitation in her sultry smile and warm brown eyes. "You wanna talk male companionship—"
"Ces."
Jason had done no more than glance at the other two, all his attention on Anya, who in turn had been staring steadily back at him. The curt command in her tone stopped the redhead who glanced once over her shoulder before giving a casual shrug and returning to her seat.
"That was uncalled for, Lieutenant Commander. I was only trying to get to know and thank the people who are protecting me and my friends."
Her quiet, dignified tone nearly made him wince, but he was still too angry to even think about apologizing. "Their duty is outside your door, not in here drinking punch!"
"What difference does that make?" She crossed her arms across her chest to mirror his
own stance, lifting her chin in what was clearly a challenge. "Out there or in here, they can still protect us."
"Oh sure, they were clearly prepared to do that when I came in."
Her chin didn't drop, but her eyes flickered away from his for the first time at his blatant sarcasm. "With the perimeter team and the security system, their job is redundant anyway."
"You think so? Would you rather the telepath had tried the door instead of talking to them the other night?"
She shot a quick glance at her friends before turning a narrow look on him. By the light flush on her cheekbones, he guessed that he'd just worsened her anger somehow. He was aggravated to see that it only increased her beauty. She had her hair down again, and his fingers itched to find out if the white cascade was as silky as it looked.
"You assured me that that would never happen again!"
His anger now accompanied by other things, Jason decided it was high time to go. "You pull this kind of stunt again and I'll lock that door, understand?" Spinning on his heel, he tried to make his escape, but just as he reached the door, Anya grabbed his arm.
"You'd make us prisoners in our own quarters?"
She was way too close for comfort. Jason pulled his arm free and took a step back, glaring down at her. "Damn right, if you can't be trusted to cooperate with your own protection."
She glared right back at him, pressing her lips together mutinously, but he didn't try to leave again. He'd have to brush against her to do that, and what a mistake that would be.
"All right! Fine. We won't ask them in anymore." Her chin dropped, and she stared at his chest, expression becoming wistful. "We've just been going stir-crazy not knowing what's going on."
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