Angels and Ministers of Grace

by Michelle O'Leary

  The screen flickered, and Jason's face reappeared, a wry smile curling his lips. "I think Admiral Blake needs a time out."

  "Indeed. Give him a minute, then patch him back through, please."

  "Will do."

  The screen returned to the full view of the ships, and Anya stared at them, horrified. She didn't know what kind of game the captain and Jason thought they were playing, but pissing off the man who had control of that much firepower didn't seem like a good idea to her at all.

  A presence at her elbow caught Anya's attention, and she dragged her gaze away from the screen to glance at the person next to her. She blinked in surprise when the hooded figure turned and she saw the Dreamer smile at her from within the shadow of her cloak. A quick look beyond the Thlassnian revealed several other alien figures arrayed behind the captain, as well as one young man with a familiar insignia at his collar. Remembering him from the destroyer, she felt a moment of alarm until he smiled, his youthful face lighting with a kind of innocent candor. She felt no pressure on her mental barriers, not even a curious brush. If he was a telepath as the Guild insignia suggested, he was a polite one.

  "Hello," Anya said with slow caution, and the young man bobbed a solemn nod to her.

  "Well met, Anya Vaedrin," the Dreamer said in her clear, smooth voice.

  A little disoriented, Anya took a quick look at the captain to see that she watched her with bright eyes. Marta gave her a faint smile and asked, "Would you like some coffee?" As if they were in her living room and not about to start a civil war.

  "No," she answered in a small voice, unable to pretend that she wasn't flattened by what was about to happen.

  Marta's face lost its amusement, and she gazed at Anya with a confidence that was frightening. "Have faith. All will be well."

  The screen flickered then and saved Anya from trying to make a response. The admiral appeared again, now tight-lipped and white-faced with anger. But he was quieter about it. "Jamison, explain yourself," he snapped with tight control.

  "Thank you for the opportunity," she said dryly. "As you have no doubt gathered from Commander Salvatore, you and your ships are not welcome to dock at this station. In fact, I must ask you to turn around and return to Central, as your presence in station space has placed you in imminent danger."

  His brows pulled together in a thunderous frown. "What the deuce are you talking about, Captain?"

  "Admiral Blake, due to irreconcilable differences in policy, I'm afraid I must declare that this station is seceding from Central. All occupants, as well as the station itself and the surrounding space, are no longer under the authority or jurisdiction of Central Command. Therefore, your military vessels are now in Free Zone space. This can only be seen as a threat, and if you should remain, we would be forced to retaliate."

  The Admiral blinked at her for a long moment in stunned silence, the muscles of his face slack with shock. "You're insane," he finally rasped.

  Anya couldn't have agreed more, but she didn't bother to say so.

  Marta seemed to enjoy the man's insult. She smiled and said, "You're entitled to your opinion, of course. Would you care to surrender your ships or are you of a mind to return to Central at this time?"

  "You've lost your mind!" he shouted. "Can't you see that you're outmatched? One lone destroyer and a station's defenses are no match for…" his voice trailed off, but Anya barely noticed. The viewscreen was changing, and she was riveted by what it revealed.

  The space around Jason's destroyer was shifting, rippling like water in an expanding wave. The wavering space took on color and shape until ship after ship was revealed, onward and outward in a vast armada spreading between the station and the Fleet ships like a net. Anya didn't recognize any of the ships as human, but she could see that they were militant and masses of them differed greatly in design and shape. The captain's mysterious allies revealed.

  "Oh my god," she whispered.

  "The veiling technology is Verdettan, but those are ours," the Dreamer murmured next to her, pointing at a formidable array of ships on the destroyer's left. They were lovely in form, as smooth and exotic as the people who created them, but deadly in function. Anya saw what had to be gun ports clustered along their sides.

  Anya tore her eyes from the screen long enough to gape at the Thlassnian. "You've got warships?"

  The Dreamer seemed amused. "Of course. Did we seem so passive to you? How did you suppose we would wrest Harmony from this chaotic universe if we were not strong enough to defend ourselves?"

  Anya had no answer for that. She was still trying to comprehend the scope of the changes happening around her.

  "As you can see, Admiral, we are by no means outmatched. Perhaps you would like to discuss—"

  But at least one of the Admiral's ships wasn't open for discussion. The captain stopped abruptly when a smaller Fleet ship fired several wild shots into the net of alien ships. One strike ricocheted off of a defender's shield and struck the station. Anya felt the hit as a deep tremor in the floor. She knew the station was shielded, too, so that single hit would not have damaged it, but that didn't stop her from shuddering in reaction.

  Several people shouted, "Cease fire!" and Anya recognized Jason's voice among them. Anya saw the captain pale and felt her heart squeeze in dread.

  "Admiral, that must not happen again, do you understand? You won't just be attacked; you will be annihilated. Please, you must control your captains."

  "Too late," Jason's terse voice came over the communications, and Anya winced to hear the captain swear viciously.

  "Admiral, can you hear me? Tell that captain to abandon ship. Abandon ship now."

  Marta's voice was so tight with tension that Anya stared at her wild-eyed. She'd never heard the captain so close to losing control. But movement on the screen caught her attention, and when she saw the writhing shadow that appeared, she moaned in despair.

  So intent was she on watching the screen that Anya didn't notice the forms bearing down on her until it was much too late. Hard, black limbs hoisted her off of her feet, and she let out a wild cry of surprise and terror, seeing the captain's face turn to her in wide-eyed shock. The Shriek bodies surrounded her, their grip unbreakable as they carried her away.

  "Captain! Jason!" she cried, but there was no help coming. It had happened much too fast.

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  Jason heard her. Anya's voice, filled with terror, came through the com loud and clear and sliced through him like a hot dagger. He thought his heart would stop. "What the hell's going on?" he yelled, punching up visual on the station. The screen flickered to show the Control Center and his captain's less than composed features. "Tell me," he demanded in as steady a voice as he could manage. He'd never seen that look on his captain's face before, and it terrified him right down to his bones.

  "The Shrieks have taken Anya," she said in a rapid, slightly breathless voice. "But they weren't harming her. I don't think they mean to. Jason, please, we've got a situation out there."

  He knew very well what the situation was and what his duty must be, but it was tearing him in two. With trembling fingers, he touched the control panel in front of him until a familiar face appeared on the screen. "Frank, for god's sake…" he rasped, desperation leaking into his voice. He could feel himself shaking, but held onto his control with grim determination. He was commander on this vessel, and every eye on the bridge was fixed on him. The responsibility for their lives was his alone and he couldn't back away from that, even for Anya.

  "I'm on it, Jace. I'll get her back; don't worry." The sturdy competence in Frank's voice helped a great deal.

  "Thank you," he said, unable to help the throb of pained gratitude in his voice.

  "A fulltime job, that woman," Frank murmured with a wink, and his face disappeared from the screen.

  An officer signaled him that one of the wing leaders was breaking off and heading for the station. With a nod of acknowledgement, Jason grimly got back to the business at hand, conta
cting the flagship.

  "Admiral, I'm sure you can see as well as I can what's headed your way. Tell that captain to abandon ship now. They won't bother the escape pods, but that ship is doomed. Do you hear me?"

  "Stop them or we'll fire!"

  Jason watched the black, deadly swarm swirling in a vicious arch towards the offending ship and felt a cold trickle of dread seep down his spine. "Sir, we can't. Even the Queen can't at this point. They're too far away to get her signals. And if any more of your ships fire on either that swarm or the station, they will also be destroyed. Save their lives, Admiral. Tell them to abandon the goddamned ship!"

  There was no answer, and the swarm advanced on the vessel. The ship fired into their midst, but if there was any damage, it was minimal. It wasn't a ship; it was a swarm of thousands of individual creatures and shooting every one of them down was an exercise in futility.

  Pressing his lips together in a grim line, Jason contacted the lead Thlassnian ship. "Traveler Kahl—"

  "Do not ask, Commander. We cannot stop a swarm, nor would we if we could. That human vessel recklessly endangered its occupants by firing upon us. They must be made aware of the consequences."

  With a grimace, Jason didn't bother to reply, contacting his fighters instead. "Red and Gold wings, intercept that swarm. Don't fire, is that understood? Slow them down as much as you can."

  "Yes, sir," was the simultaneous response from both wings before the two groups of fighters blazed across the void between the two opposing forces and cut across the swarm's path. It was as useless as throwing a twig in front of a flood. The swarm simply flowed around them and through them as if they didn't exist. The fighters tried again and again, but the swarm was not to be slowed.

  Snarling with frustration, Jason signaled the com officer to connect him with the doomed ship. "Captain, abandon your vessel, do you hear me? It will not survive and neither will you if you remain aboard! They will rip it to shreds and you along with it unless you get out of their way and I mean now!"

  Their signal was getting through. Jason could hear the confused sounds of a panicked bridge, the captain's voice overriding them as he gave orders. But no one answered him. He could see the ship starting to move out of formation, but it was much too late to flee.

  The swarm had bypassed the fighters by this time and reached the offending ship's shielding. One by one, they pressed themselves to the force field, forming a net of interconnected bodies. Whatever energy that they used to propel themselves through space was now leveled on the shield. Jason watched with fascinated dread as streams of glowing force began to run like lightning strikes across the ship's shielding. The swarm had concentrated most of its attention on one area, their bodies massing together in a dark blotch against the ever increasing light show. It took less time than Jason thought possible for them to break through the ship's defense, but he couldn't deny the sight of the swarm pouring in through a gap in the shield.

  Watching in helpless horror, he saw the first of the swarm reach the vessel and begin to rend. It didn't take them long at all to peel back the outer hull and scramble inside. At this point, several smaller vessels began to shoot away from the main body of the ship, and Jason let out a breath of relief. He didn't know how many of them would survive, but at least some of the crew had the sense to get the hell out of the way.

  He didn't bother to try to contact any of the admiral's ships again, letting the Shriek's destruction speak for him. The silence was thick around him on the bridge as his crew watched the annihilation of one of their own. The ship was almost completely covered at one point by black, shifting bodies, and Jason saw several crew members turn their faces away. But he watched on—if he was going to be a part of this, he had to shoulder the responsibility for the consequences.

  It took some time, but when the swarm finally spun away from the wreckage, there was very little left. It looked as though it had sustained a direct hit from a destroyer. And not a single one of the other allied alien vessels had been involved—the Shrieks had done it all by themselves. It was a very eloquent message.

  When the admiral contacted him, he looked both older and more subdued. "May I speak with Captain Jamison?"

  Jason connected him without a word. The captain looked more composed, but her face was pale. Jason felt his chest grow tight with fear until it was hard to breathe. What had the Shrieks done with Anya?

  "Admiral, I trust you understand your position now."

  "We will surrender immediately."

  "I don't want your surrender. This isn't a war. We are simply placing ourselves beyond the control of Central Command because we see the need to learn how to coexist with our sentient neighbors. Eventually there will come a day of reckoning when Central must decide whether they wish to be a part of the evolution of our civilization or to pass into history. But this is not that day. You are free to go."

  Jason saw the lines of weariness in his captain's face and felt a pang of sorrow. This wasn't what they had envisioned. They hadn't wanted it to come to a show of violence or a loss of lives, but at least this way there was no room for question. It would be very clear to Central what the consequences of resistance would be.

  "You're allowing us to withdraw?" the admiral asked warily.

  "Yes, but would you pass along a message for me?"

  The admiral hesitated before he answered, "All right."

  "This is not a militant state. This is the Free Zone, and all within it have a voice, be they alien or human, telepath or not. Any who wish to join us would be welcome. Can you pass that along?"

  He stared at her with a dubious expression and didn't answer.

  "Change is painful, Admiral. Change is distressing and uncomfortable, and in this case, necessary. You see before you an array of alien ships aligned against yours. They are but the vanguard of each race, a small portion of what they can bring down on our civilization. Can the Fleet withstand the combined might of their fury?"

  "No," he murmured, so softly that Jason almost didn't catch the sound. But he could read his lips.

  "No. But they do not attack, because I have offered them a different solution. Cooperation, trade, an exchange of knowledge and ideas, a way to coexist. I am offering Central the same solution and have given them a chance to choose. The allied forces you see here will not attack…now. Central and the people they govern have time to come to grips with the change that is inevitable. But trust me when I tell you—the Free Zone will grow. I would like to see it grow peacefully."

  The admiral nodded, lips pressed together in a grim line. "I will pass along your message."

  Jason took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was a beginning.

  "Thank you," Marta said, and the grave timber of her voice gave proof to her honest gratitude. "Before you go, we have a token of our sincerity. The Calypso's original officers will be returned to you along with anyone on this station who is not yet ready to join us. Also, we will return one the Guild's people. The other," she continued, looking over her shoulder at the young man behind her, "has chosen to stay."

  The young man stepped up to the captain's side and nodded gravely. "Admiral, my name is Brian Gillespi. I am hereby revoking my member status with the Guild. I also have a message, and I wonder if you could take it back along with the captain's."

  Disapproval tightened the lines of the admiral's face, but he was hardly in a position to object. "What is it?" he asked abruptly.

  "I wonder if you could tell them—other telepaths, I mean—that they don't have to be afraid anymore, that they don't need the Guild anymore. We deserve better than to be treated like livestock, like—like slaves. Here we can be what we are without fear."

  The admiral added a frown to his disapproval. "What are you talking about, boy? The Guild protects talents like you!"

  "Sir, the Guild uses us. I have seen the body of the assassin that came after Miss Vaedrin. Captain Jamison and Commander Salvatore allowed me to see the truth of what happened in their minds. As awful
as it is for me to believe, I now know that the Guild trained that man to do what their own laws say is an abomination. They warped him and his talent. They created a monster and then turned it loose on an innocent woman." The telepath shook his head earnestly. "Sir, I can't be a party to that kind of horror anymore."

  "You're a young fool. How can you know that that telepath didn't just go rogue?"

  "Because the Guild didn't send my colleague and I here to retrieve him. They sent us here to capture Miss Vaedrin. Just the fact that they want her is proof enough."

  "Ask them why they want her, Admiral," the captain intervened. "And when they answer, listen with your whole mind and not just the habit of trust and apathy that they've cultivated for so long."

  The admiral didn't answer, looking from one to the other with his brow still creased in a frown. But it was a different frown than the one he had been wearing. This one was puzzled, and there was a look in his eyes that said he was finally seeing something not quite right about this situation.

  They waited, and Jason shifted restlessly, his mind straying every other moment to Anya. What was happening to her? Why hadn't Frank contacted him?

  "I believe I will ask them," the admiral finally said. "And I will convey your message, young man. For what it's worth. But don't expect them to come running out here."

  "Change," the captain answered for the telepath, "is often a slow process. We have learned to cultivate patience. Now, would you like to discuss the arrangements for the release of your officers and the Guild member?"

  Jason ground his teeth and gripped the edge of the control panel with white-knuckled hands. He couldn't allow the admiral to know that there might be something wrong with their alliance by demanding to know what had happened to Anya and he couldn't leave his post until the entire squadron of Fleet ships was on its way again. Held by his duty, he remained at his post as terrible possibilities carved away pieces of his sanity.

  Chapter 31