The door to the ready room opened, letting Ren in from the corridor. “Chasidah.” A warm misty breeze filtered his words. “You had an interesting time on station, I hear.” He raised his chin toward the open hatchway to the bridge. I tapped the deskcomp, shutting it. He waited for the soft thump then sat next to me.
“You were fortunate to have assistance.”
“You’ve met Del?”
“Through Sully’s link, yes, we’ve been introduced. I was a bit surprised.”
“That he’s Stolorth? And a Kyi?”
“You don’t know who he is?”
“You mean that his clan is Serian? He told us the story. His grandparents were some kind of royalty.”
“They were. He is.” Ren shook his head, clearly mystified. “He is a prince, Chasidah. Eldest child of the eldest daughter. He is His Royal Highness Prince Regarth Cordell, Serian-Prime, Blessed of the Delkavra.”
“Hell’s ass,” I said, sitting back in my chair.
“Not quite how I’d put it, but I understand the sentiment.”
“He said his family’s lands were taken away.”
“By the current government in power, yes. But you can’t eradicate centuries of history. The exalted lineage is there.” He ran his fingers over the tabletop until he found the tab for the deskcomp. He touched it and the screen rose. “This is a deskscreen,” he said, tapping its edge. “The fact that you didn’t see it a moment ago doesn’t negate what it is. My blindness doesn’t negate what it is. And even if you didn’t know its function, it’s still a deskscreen. Its purpose, its heritage, is not affected by your opinions or knowledge.”
I got his point. The Serians were clearly not pariahs to a great many Stolorths. “Does Sully know this?”
“I didn’t want to embarrass His Highness with such a recital, so no. I’m telling you. At the proper time, you can tell Sully.”
“Are you okay with him being on board?”
“I am honored to be able to serve in his presence.”
“Oh. Well, then.” I didn’t know what to say. Ren was an Englarian monk. Abbot Eng preached death to all Ragkirils. His Royal Highness Prince Regarth Cordell, Serian-Prime, Blessed of the Delkavra, was a Ragkiril. Ren worshipped the prince and Abbot Eng.
“Chasidah, the Serians don’t represent the misuses of Ragkiril talents that sadly do exist among my people.” Ren’s voice held a large helping of patience. “Abbot Eng wanted only to cleanse the abusers. Guardian Drogue has said this, many times.
“The Serians accepted the responsibility even for those not like them, and performed the ultimate sacrifice shortly before Abbot Eng himself died. Had he lived, I truly believe he would have come to understand, as Drogue and Guardian Lon and many others do, that not all Ragkirils are tainted demons. I also believe that there is a place where the stars and the Great Sea meet, and there the Serians and the blessed abbot have made peace.”
“Right.”
Ren smiled softly, then patted my hand, sending a small flurry of warm rainbows through me. Like Sully could. Like Del. It occurred to me that if I survived Tage’s attempts to kill us, I could well suffer from a cuddling overload on the Karn. I hoped Dorsie was willing to work the relief shift.
I opened the hatchway to the bridge again and wandered over to navigation. Sully and Del should be returning momentarily. I really needed to talk to Sully. I wanted to understand what had happened with our attackers. I felt sure Sully knew more. In the meantime, there were some traffic advisories I wanted to make sure were plotted in—
An alarm wailed loudly overhead.
“Shit!” What now? I grabbed the arm of the pilot’s chair, swung in. “What is it, Marsh?”
“Targeting sensors. Someone’s locking on us!”
Data streamed down my armrest console. Marsh—a veteran with situations like this—had already kicked the sublights hot. The Karn shuddered in her docking clamps. I slapped intraship. “Sully! Verno! Bridge, now!”
Ren pulled his headset on at communications but sightless, there was little he could do other than relay what he heard on the communications channels. “There’s a report of a freighter out of control—”
“Out of control, my ass! They’re gunning for us.” Why did I think two assassins were all Tage would throw at us? I heard hard bootsteps in the corridor behind me. “Sully?”
“Here!” He was. He slid into the seat at weapons.
“Del, take nav,” I said as Verno thumped onto the bridge shoulder-to-shoulder with the Stolorth prince, who’d doffed his long coat but not his shoulder-holstered laser pistol. “It’s going to be ditch-and-drop, boys. Dorsie, lock down. This won’t be nice.”
“Secure, Chaz,” came Dorsie’s answer over intraship.
“I need max shields, port side. Sully, fry those clamps on my command. Marsh, I need all three port thrusters on hard burst, overload on the secondary and tertiary if you have to, then keep sublights screaming till jump. Del, get us a goddamned gate!”
“Plotting a course now, Captain,” Del said as Sully swore and the alarm continued to blare.
“Ren, broadcast an all-ship MYA. Sully, on my mark. Four, three…” I checked my screens one last time and saw the freighter careening toward us. The scanner array the Karn wasn’t supposed to have clearly showed her weapons ports powering up, glowing hot. Ren’s MYA—Move Your Ass—had other ships scurrying, and Narfial traffic control pleading with us to hold our position.
Like hell we would.
“…two, one. Sully, fry ’em! Marsh, thrusters, now!”
The Karn jerked hard, alarms screaming in triplicate, overload warnings flashing. The grating sound of metal wrenching echoed off the bulkheads. Snapped power lines whipped past the front viewport as something thumped, hard, and something else thudded, once, twice. The ship lurched then we were thrown sideways, my armrest catching me in the ribs in spite of my safety straps.
“Full shields!” I said hoarsely. Goddamn, that hurt. “Verno, don’t let her spin. Marsh, crank those sublights higher.”
We dove away from station—a hideously ugly departure. Narfial controllers cursed the Fair Jeffa, assuring us the freighter was back on course and was never a threat to us at dock.
“Bite my ass,” Sully intoned.
“Mine too. Make it a double,” Del said as we streaked past incoming traffic, Verno’s sure hand on the helm keeping us free from at least a half-dozen near-collisions. “Two hours, twenty-seven minutes to gate,” Del added.
Two hours? The closest gate in our nav banks was a healthy seven hours away. The one we’d used to get here had been twelve hours out. Two hours?
“At current speeds,” Del amended and damn him, I could feel him grinning. Gloating. He was almost as good as Sully at that.
Royalty shouldn’t gloat. It’s unbecoming, I sent him. If Sully heard and didn’t understand, he would soon enough.
Del’s silent snort sounded in my mind. It’s not gloating. It’s a deserved appreciation of our natural superiority.
And humility, I shot back, noting a flash on my screen telling me we’d cleared Narfial’s outer beacon. Then out loud: “Tell me about this gate a mere two hours away.” Later, I’d ask if he had any inkling the freighter and our attackers were related.
“It’s part of the old smugglers’ gates you used to get here,” Del said.
I felt Sully’s interest, felt data flowing rapidly back and forth between Del and Sully. Disbelief waned, surprise taking its place.
“Whoever’s after us,” Del continued, “won’t think we have the balls to use it.”
Oh, joy.
Forty minutes later, when we were sure no one pursued us, I sent Marsh and Verno off duty. They could handle the ship once we had her set in slippery space. Again. But right now, Sully, Ren, Del, and I had a number of important things to discuss.
It was the noisiest silence I’d ever experienced.
No, neither Sully or Del had had time to run a scan on our attackers’ minds for further
plans. There hadn’t even been time to get identities. Only that, yes, the two were hunting one Captain Chasidah Bergren and one Gabriel Sullivan, known mercenary and pirate.
But unknown Ragkiril. Interesting that Tage hadn’t warned his people.
Then we ran all the data we could on the “out-of-control” freighter. It was pitifully small. Ships didn’t sit at dock routinely running their short-range scanners. Not even the Karn. But she did always keep her weapons-seeker program operational. One of the quirks a pilot had to counter for when undocking. The seeker program, however, only alerted us when we were being scanned, targeted. It didn’t gather detailed data on who was targeting us.
’Droid operated, Sully posited.
Del examined the freighter’s movements in slow-motion mode. Quite likely. So not a true suicide mission. Junkyard scrap.
We had no way of knowing who owned that junkyard scrap.
Ren was breaking down all transmissions from forty-five minutes before the incident to when we lost contact with Narfial Traffic Control, hopeful the “distress calls” would furnish something. But chances were very good ship’s name and ID would be as creative as our own. A search on the Fair Jeffa would result in conflicting information that eventually dead-ended. The name that the freighter broadcast, the Glorious Perceiver, dead-ended even more quickly than that.
Did you try…But it could be…And how about… bounced back and forth in my brain, while my ears took in only the normal beeping and clicking of the bridge and the occasional human or Stolorth sigh of frustration.
I’ve been watching Tage since shortly after Corsau, Del admitted, when the topic turned back to the larger picture. I had an inside source about much of what went on in the Justice ministry. There are some Ragkirils working there, as I’m sure you know. Only one Kyi I know of. Or knew of. She may no longer be alive.
Concern flowed from Ren.
Not that way, Brother. She was much on in years. An elegant, intelligent woman. Distant relative of mine. Not Serian. Delkavra. She’d outlived all three of her ky’sals. I daresay she was ready.
Three? I tried not to voice my surprise but it was heard, anyway.
Multiple bond-mates are not uncommon in some clans, Ren said.
Delkavra women are known to be feisty, Del added. You could have been one, Chasidah. My great-aunt Michonna had five at the same time for a good twenty or so years. I often wondered if they were assigned to her bed based on the days of the week.
Sully’s more than I can handle, thank you.
That had better be a compliment, angel, and not a complaint, Sully warned.
Can we discuss business, gentlemen? I shot back.
Then a whisper, the smallest of sounds yet seductively deep, in the corner of my mind: You underestimate yourself, Chasidah.
I pushed it away and filled my thoughts with the data on my screen while Del shared what he knew about Tage, and Sully filled Del in on Hayden Burke, not missing an opportunity to relay the list of seductive vidstars who’d graced his cousin’s bed.
My screen trilled, an icon flashing. “We’re in range of a data beacon. I’ll do the grab.” My voice was oddly loud after so much external silence.
Don’t bother with the scores. No Baris Cup for two days, Sully said, sounding dejected.
Who’d you take? Del was interested.
Garno, of course.
I have Walker, Ren put in.
I logged off the pilot’s console. “Gentlemen, I have work to do. One of us might as well. I’ll be in the ready room when you run out of gambling and multiple-sex-partner stories.”
Touchy, isn’t she? Del asked.
We haven’t had much time for sleep lately. Or anything else. Makes her cranky.
Sully!
Yes, angel?
I spun on my heels at the ready room hatchway, marched the three steps to his chair, cuffed him soundly across the back of the head—he ducked but I countered for that—and then marched back.
Then I shut the ready room hatchway and locked it. Too bad I couldn’t find a lock for my mind.
We skittered through the gate with me in the pilot’s chair and Del at helm, working as second pilot. Ren was already off duty. Sully was supposed to be at nav but instead he stood behind my chair and ran his fingers up and down my shoulder.
Cranky, eh? I knew what he was doing. I guess I should be relieved that he wasn’t pissing on the bulkheads to mark his territory.
I brought up the same guidance program that had held us fairly steady through slippery space the last time. Del reviewed it and pronounced it fit.
Then he turned in his chair, watching me and Sully. He motioned toward the nav station. “Dock Five is next?”
“I need to find Gregor’s fail-safe partner,” Sully said, his hand on my shoulder stilling. “But more than that, I think Acora has a number of people on the dock. Between you and me, we might be able to pin them down, get the information on the location of Burke’s ship. If they don’t know, then they know who will know. It’s a process of elimination.”
“Do you trust me enough to let me review the files on Gregor?”
“You’ve been flying my ship for the better part of two hours. What do you think?”
“I think you put people through a number of tests before you trust them.”
“Don’t you?”
Del leaned to his right, raising his chin toward the open hatchway to the corridor. I don’t waste that much time. I probe, I find answers, I act on what I find.
Sully hesitated, then: “And what did you find about my crew?”
“They’re good.” Marsh Ganton is skittish but right now he’d sell his soul to the devil—which he’s not fully sure I’m not—to avenge his father’s death. But he’s loyal to you, Gabriel. He knows what you’ve done for his family in the past. He envies what you have with Chasidah, but honors you all the more for it. He came from a nice family. A good man to him is one who respects a woman.
“And he’s close to Dorsie, his aunt,” I put in.
And a ripe plum for the picking she is!
But Del was laughing, teasing, looking for a rise out of Sully and me.
Verno knows you’re a Ragkiril, guesses I am as well, Del continued. Takas don’t carry the prejudices humans often do. His energy and focus is impressive. If I needed one word for him, stalwart would do well.
And Ren. Ren is the little brother you should have had but didn’t. In many ways, he represents all that is good about my people.
So then I have no worries, Sully said.
Loyalties can shift in the blink of an eye, my friend. Never forget that.
A noise in the corridor halted our discussion. Marsh and Verno. Ren would come back at midshift. Unless slippery space acted up, there just wasn’t that much to do in jump.
“You’re relieved of duty, Captain Regarth,” I said, sliding out of my seat. “So are you, Mr. Sullivan. I think we could use some downtime.”
“I’ll check to see what Dorsie has in the galley,” Del said, gracing me with a wink as he passed by. The galley wasn’t a bad idea. Some pie or stew sounded good right about now. Lashto brandy and bitter-coffee were the last things I’d had to eat.
Del strode down the corridor toward the stairway, long braid swinging across his broad back.
I slipped my arm around Sully’s waist and tugged him toward the hatchway. Stew, I thought. Hot and steamy. A thick slice of bread. A glass of wine.
Sully came along with a sigh, Marsh’s and Verno’s voices filling the spaces between our footsteps.
“Hungry?” I asked when we’d almost reached our door.
He hit the palm pad then grasped my shoulders, backing me into the cabin. He turned, hit the pad again, and pinned me against the wall as the door closed and locked.
“Yeah, angel,” he said, his body hard against mine, his mouth hot against my neck, my ear. “Starving. But not for food.”
“But, Sully, Del—”
“Knows his limits. And undere
stimates mine.” A silvery glow spread over his skin as his fingers pulled my shirt out of my pants. Whatever else I wanted to say was halted by the fierce pressure of his lips, the seductive dance of his tongue, the intense heat that suddenly flared through my body, spiraling between my legs.
I gasped.
He kissed me, harder.
His hands found my breasts. The featherlight touch of his fingertips brushing my nipples contrasted with the exquisite, insistent sensations now pulsing between my legs, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy. And we still had most of our clothes on.
That I could fix. I tugged at his shirt. His deep chuckle vibrated in my mouth as he yanked it up, breaking our kiss only to pull it over his head. Then it was hot skin to hot skin, hands seeking, finding, caressing.
Chasidah. Ky’sara-mine. He arched against me, fully aroused, hard, throbbing. This is what you do to me.
And I knew. I felt everything through our link. Felt the tense excitement of the blood pounding inside him, felt the frisson of sensations as he ground his hips against me. A spike of pleasure jolted me and I heard his breath hitch, hard. I closed my eyes, immersing myself in his desire, his passion—
He grabbed me, turned me away from the wall, lifting me, his face rough against my cheek, his mouth wet on my shoulder. When I felt the mattress under my back, my eyes fluttered open. The energies of the Kyi glowed from deep inside him, surfacing in small flashes of lightning that raced down his bare chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. Another surged up his left arm, striping his left cheekbone before fading into his hair.
He knelt over me.
Don’t be afraid, ky’sara.
I’m not, I lied, remembering only days ago when the blaze of the Kyi in the palm of his hand had shaken him, bringing him to tears—
Do you at least trust me?
—and days later, the surge of lightning beneath his skin. He’d almost killed Gregor. Until I tugged at that link between us. And then all he’d wanted was me.
Did I trust him?
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