I stared at him, a large noisy bell going off in the back of my head. I’d been so preoccupied with Del’s insidious seductions, I’d paid little attention to the political scheme of things. But the minute Philip’s words registered, I saw it all—from the moment Del brought me and Sully into the bar on Narfial. All his talk of the Serian royal family, their sacrifices, their devotion, their expertise in handling the matter of dozens of clans. His reminders that Baris had once been part of Stol.
I will be a prince again among kings.
“There’ve been rumors that the Stolorths have sought an alliance with Blaine. Let me guess. Something else Tage convinced Prew is fact.”
“There might be some truth in that,” Philip said. “Stol was a great power once, before humans came to this sector. Agreements made with the Empire over the decades in order to ensure free trade have harnessed that. But it’s only changed their apparent aggressiveness. Not their ability to be aggressive.”
I looked back at Sully. “And now Tage realizes there are human Ragkir. You can’t be picked out of a crowd, like a Stolorth. You could infiltrate his organization, he’d never know.”
Sully was nodding. “He wants me dead and buried. Probably every other human empath too.”
“But if it came down to it, would you ally with Stol?” Even as I asked the question, I knew the answer. He was Serian now by oath.
“Between Tage, Stol, and the Farosians?” he countered. “Where would you place your faith?”
I drew a short breath and closed my eyes briefly. There was no easy answer.
No, ky’sara, there’s not.
“What I get from Del,” Sully continued out loud, “is that Stol just wants Baris. The rim worlds and Aldan, humans and Takas can have. They want open trade. No embargos, restrictions like they have now.”
“But humans need access to Baris to get from Aldan to the rim in a reasonable amount of time.” Going around the Baris Sector meant huge fuel costs and much longer delivery times to the rim worlds and stations.
“I brought that up about five minutes before you came in, Chaz,” Philip said. “Some kind of agreement would need to be hammered out.”
“Like the deal Sully’s father and Tage and those others made behind the Council’s backs after the Boundary Wars? Locking in mining rights only to a few influential families that would also control ship production and through that, the movement of goods? So Aldan prospers and Dafir starves. What’s to stop that from happening again? The goodwill of someone like Del?”
“It will happen anyway. Tage is a chronic xenophobe. It’s the one thing he and the Farosians usually agree on.”
“There’s no solution, then.”
“There’s one.” Philip glanced from Sully to me. “Restore the old Admirals’ Council and give the Takans and the Stolorths seats on it. Make Fleet represent the entire system and not just humans.”
“Tage would rather die first,” I said.
Sully nodded slowly. “That could be arranged.”
That didn’t strike me as the perfect answer. “Then three others step up in his place.” I turned to Philip. “Why didn’t the Admirals’ Council see this coming?”
“Because official policy has been to lock out the Stolorths, not negotiate with them. I’m as guilty of that as anyone.”
I knew Fleet policy. I’d heard Philip spout it, as recently as when he’d intercepted Sully and me on the Meritorious. Stolorths were “them.” Mind-fuckers. Takas were cheap labor. I rubbed my hands over my face. We were a miserable, miserable species.
“I side with Jodey. We need a new Admirals’ Council,” I said, dropping my hands to my lap.
“And a new Fleet,” Philip said. “And then we need to pray that the Stolorths and the Takas are willing to forgive us.”
“If there are any left.” Sully poked the rifle with one finger. “Between these and jukors, we’re looking at extermination. Not negotiations.”
“And war,” I said. “We’re looking at war.”
I know Dorsie made some excellent meals but I barely noticed them over the next two days that would take us to the Five-Oh-One and Burke’s depot, as I’d come to think of it. It was another shipday and a half to Dock Five from there, if that’s where we finally ended up. With two ships, possibly. Three, if Jodey joined us.
Burke’s remaining jukor lab would be gone. We’d found no evidence of any others, though I didn’t discount he could create another. But this would set him back if not damn him. Whatever we found tying him to the ship, we intended to release to the public. Though perhaps with the Kyi-killers, he and Tage realized they didn’t need jukors. Rifles and pistols were easier to transport. And didn’t have a gut-wrenching stench.
But the jukor lab was where we had to start. It was damned near being dropped in our laps. We owed it to Marsh and Dorsie to destroy them.
I owed it to Thad.
We were about six hours out of the Five-Oh-One and I found myself in the gym, in the small handball court this time. Not zero-G. Just basic four-wall handball. I slipped on my gloves, my goggles, and worked on my reflexes, my eye-hand coordination, reaching and diving, damned near climbing the walls when I had to. I had a good volley going when my reach just wasn’t far enough. I was a fraction off in anticipating the ball’s location. I ended up with nothing but air and a pain in my ass when I landed on my tailbone. I let out a series of expletives that had served me well in combat training then pulled myself off the floor. I turned to retrieve the ball behind me but someone already had.
Del.
I was unarmed. My pistol, even my Grizni, was in the locker outside the handball court.
He was dressed as I was, in a gray thermal shirt and loose gray shorts, soft-soled shoes, gloves. A pair of goggles dangled around his neck. He walked toward me with a controlled, athletic grace, tossing the black ball in the air and catching it.
“I’m through here,” I said. If I wasn’t, I was now. “You can have the court.”
“I could have called a technical on that.” He was smiling.
It took me a moment. My language. I could have pointed out to him this wasn’t regulation play. But I didn’t want to point out anything, other than point my body to the door.
He’d been unfailingly polite and had stayed away from me since Sully’s dressing down in the ready room. But I didn’t for one moment think he’d actually changed.
“I’ve been watching you,” he continued. “You have a good, strong serve. For a female.” He arched an elegant eyebrow, mouth pursing.
“Thanks.” I stepped toward the door. The reference to my gender was a deliberate jibe. I ignored it.
“Come on, Chasidah. If Gabriel had said that, it would have been game on. You’d have put one right by him.” He tossed the ball to me.
I caught it, out of reflex.
“You can have first serve,” he said.
“No thanks.” I tossed the ball back.
He slammed it. It whipped inches from my right ear, hit the wall behind me, then ricocheted. My heart rate spiked. I mentally called him a few uncomplimentary names as I headed for the door. He smacked the ball hard again, missing me by less than inches—and I was moving.
I saw it on the rebound out of the corner of my eye, spun, smashed it angrily back at him. Goddamned slag-head. I didn’t care if he hit me with the damned thing now. I was going through that door, I was—
He laughed.
And I realized the symphony must be playing very loudly.
“Accept the challenge,” he called out. “Work out a little aggression with me. Or on me. I don’t mind.”
I heard the thop of the ball hitting the front wall. I spun, caught it, pocketed it. And slammed the door behind me as I left the handball court.
“I’ll talk to him,” Sully said when we intercepted each other on the landing in the aft stairwell. He was on his was down to engineering. I was on my way up to shower, change, and fume.
“And tell him what? Don’t use the ship
’s facilities? If it had been Marsh, Verno, anyone else, it would have been game on. He didn’t use mind-speak. He didn’t in any way prevent me from leaving. He offered me first serve. I declined. It’s fully innocent.” Except it was Del.
“He knows he’s not to be alone with you.”
“And he can tell you I said I was finished playing and he could use the court. I did. We were ships passing in the big wide darkness.”
Sully sighed.
“He has this down to a fine art,” I told him. “You’re not going to trip him up. It’s only a few more hours. As much as it galls me, we need him for this mission. Then we can give him the goddamned lab ship, let him go on his way to be a prince among kings.”
“I almost feel sorry for him,” Sully said softly. “He can’t control his reactions to you. You’re like the spark that creates the flame.” He trailed one finger down the side of my face then brushed it over my lips, sending something hot and tight spiraling through me. “I know exactly how he feels.”
He tipped my chin up and kissed me lightly. “Shame I have to go talk to Marsh. But if you hold that thought, angel, I will meet you back in our cabin in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m on duty in an hour—”
He yanked me against him and the kiss this time was not so light, but demanding, passionate, heated. “Then we’ll make it the most memorable forty-five minutes you’ve ever had.”
I don’t know if it was the most memorable but it was damned close.
We were on serious bogey check now. Verno was at the helm, Marsh at engineering, and Sully, Philip, Del, and I were on nav, scanners, and, if needed, weapons. The Five-Oh-One was not a friendly region. The ship we hunted wasn’t the only thing likely to shoot at us if given a chance.
Rather than broadcast one of the Karn’s many innocuous ship idents, we ran silent. No pretending to be an indy freighter, an ore-grubber, or a lugger. We were nothing. We were everything. Another ship would be able to discern our relative size and mass, but that’s all.
Oh, and that we were running with weapons ports hot. That was expected out here.
We’d managed to shave another twenty minutes off our expected arrival time at Burke’s depot. Marsh was a genius, but was demanding some upgrades, some new parts for his sublights in exchange for working them well past spec. His wish list had turned into a work order for the minute we hit Dock Five. Pops—Sully’s most trusted repair bay owner—would be making a pretty profit.
“There go the funds for my new shuttle,” Sully sighed wistfully.
I ignored him, playing with the scanners instead, working around the annoying magnetic fluctuations.
Half hour out and all still quiet.
Sully had the schematics of the depot on the secondary viewscreen. “I want to dock her nearside to the rock, in case anyone’s behind us scanning. They’ll pick us up as an aberration, a fluctuation. Hopefully,” he added, dropping his voice just a bit, “it’ll be a hot dock, one clamp, using our tube if theirs doesn’t work. It shouldn’t take us any more than ten minutes, but I want to do it in eight.”
He changed the image, showing a wider view of the depot. “Ride the rock’s rotation on departure,” he told Verno. “You’ve done it before. When you hit farside and are sure you’re sufficiently blocked, push her an hour to an hour and a half out.”
“Half hour,” Marsh argued. “I’d feel better—”
“I won’t. If they spot you on approach and take you out, we’re stuck on that goddamned depot—especially if their ship’s damaged and if we have to blow the labs. Hour minimum, Ganton. Don’t make me fill your work order with recycled parts.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Good. Guthrie? Tell me about the depot. What kind of enviro are you reading?”
“Burke likes his creature comforts. Looks like we have air and grav. No signs of life but there could be ’droids on standby.”
“Unless they’re locked to the decking, I doubt it,” Sully said. “He’s not the only one who uses this. Someone would have carted them off long before.”
“I’d recommend a sensor sweep for traps,” Philip said.
“Ahead of you on that one,” Del answered. “Stol’s produced some of the best anti-intruder devices around. Anything as much as winks on that depot, I’ll spot it here long before we make dock.” He tapped a section of his screen. “I won’t let Captain Bergren open the tubeway unless I know the place is clean.”
How could one man be so admirably efficient and damnably annoying at the same time?
I didn’t have time to waste pondering Cordell Regarth, the Serian-Prime. At fifteen minutes out I left the bridge, Philip on my heels, he to his cabin, me to mine. Sonic knife went under my pant leg, in my boot. Dual hip holster, packed with my Stinger with spare ammo and the smaller Kyi-killer, around my waist. Tage and Burke hated Stolorths, but they had several working for them. One had killed my brother. We couldn’t rule out there might be another on board. Modified Norlack laser rifle went across my back. I touched my Grizni for luck.
I met Philip outside the doorway to the galley. He was in black fatigue pants, thermal shirt, and jacket, and was bedecked as I was, at least based on what I could see. Based on what I couldn’t, I figured he had an extra knife and pistol or ten hidden somewhere.
“Ready, Bergie?”
“Ready, Guth.”
“Chaz.”
I’d stepped away and now turned back.
He glanced toward the forward stairway. Empty. He glanced back. “I never thought I’d say this, but Sullivan’s not as much of an asshole as I thought he was. I just wanted you to know.”
I smiled. High praise from Admiral Philip Guthrie.
“Eight minutes to dock.” Sully’s voice came over intraship as footsteps sounded in the corridor. “She swept clean. On my way.”
Del came into view in the hatchlock for the tube where Philip and I waited, securing our comm-links in our shirt pockets, thin transceivers ringing ears. He wore the long black coat he had when I first saw him on Narfial, Grizni again on his wrist—his only obvious weapon, other than the slight glitter under his skin. His blue eyes were a dirtside summer’s night dark. He didn’t need a comm-link.
He bounced lightly on his heels, his gaze raking me up and down. I turned away but I could still feel him. Sully should be here any moment. That would put a stop to that.
“You’re not going to trip over that coat?” Philip asked.
“Never have.”
Then Sully strode in, another dark-coated, glimmering figure.
Philip looked at me. I shrugged. I had my guesses involving a containment field, a concentration of energies, but this wasn’t the time to discuss them. And I had no link with Philip. He’d never agreed to a mutual link with Sully and me.
The roar of the docking thrusters was louder here against the hull of the ship. Sublights still kicked, not quite idling. The deck vibrated in small hiccups.
“Thirty seconds,” Marsh advised.
Sully tapped intraship. “Acknowledged. We’re a go when you are.”
My heart rate sped up. It was natural, it was normal. My body was preparing for a dangerous plunge into an unknown environment the minute we cleared the tubeway. Anything could be minutes behind us. Anything could be waiting for us minutes ahead.
I caught Philip rolling his shoulders just as I did and bit back a snort. If you lined up every officer Philip had mentored through combat training, we’d all probably do the identical Guthrie roll.
I glimpsed a whisper of a smile on Sully’s lips. Angel-mine, he sent.
Don’t distract me.
The smile widened into that familiar Sully-grin, tinged with the glow of Gabriel’s essence.
“Del and I go first,” Sully said.
No argument there. Their mental scans were faster and more accurate than the hand-held dangling from my belt.
The Karn trembled again, then a hard mechanical whine sounded. Docking clamp extending. A sharp thud vibrated thr
ough the hull. Lock on.
“Tubeway deployed,” Marsh said. “Synchronizing with airlock parameters. Fifteen seconds. Fourteen…”
I watched tubeway lights go from red to green, the ship shuddering harder now with only one docking clamp to hold her against the backwash from the sublights.
“Nine, eight…looking fine, boss!” Then seconds later, Marsh gave the command. “Clear. Go!”
Philip slapped open the airlock then we bolted behind Del and Sully, already thundering though the tube.
The dank, stale odor of the depot’s air hit me immediately, catching in the back of my throat. That and the absolute darkness, other than the ring of blue lights at the airlock behind me, and the pale silvery glow from the two Kyi in front.
I palmed my handbeam.
“Wait.” One word, hushed, from Del.
Wait, Sully confirmed to me.
I sidled away from the airlock, now closing rapidly, and bumped against Philip’s arm. We stood backs against the bulkhead, ears straining because eyes refused to work. Sully and Del were a few steps ahead of us, the only illumination.
“Status,” Marsh’s voice said in my ear.
“Code Yellow,” Philip replied before I could, his voice soft but loud enough the comm-link would pick it up.
Code Yellow. Unsure.
“Give Marsh a green,” Sully said. “We’re in more danger from him hanging around out there. There’s nothing we can’t handle in here.”
“Green,” I told Marsh.
A hard thump. The Karn, undocking.
What’s in here? I asked Sully.
Bad housekeeping.
Del chuckled out loud. “Hit your handbeams so you don’t trip over something. I’ll light up the rest.”
He did, or he and Sully did, several glowing globes suddenly flashing to life in front of them. The corridor—wider than expected—was bathed in a pale light, like overheads on low power. There was plenty to trip over. Ceiling tiles, broken duro-hards, and snaking lengths of cable were among the few things I could immediately identify. Bad housekeeping, indeed.
Sully stepped forward, things crunching under his boots. Enviro wheezed and whined overhead, dust spewing out now and then as we moved under the vents.
Shades of Dark Page 29