Gabriel's Ghost

by Linnea Sinclair

  Sully? Ren, dying. Sully, breathing for him. I hurled that image, that plea, to the man lying prone next to me.

  Her first shot grazed him. But her second got him in the chest. He hesitated. I’ll try. Cover me.

  I strafed the ops consoles and cargo stages. Sully ran under the pinnace toward Philip.

  The two remaining attackers ducked down. I pushed myself to my feet, bolted after Sully. I could cover him best if I were in front of him. They’d have to shoot me first.

  I crouched down, using the wide-based struts for cover as Lazlo and Berri had when they’d pinned us against the opposite wall. Burke’s people were now farther to my left. There were a few blind spots, but they were small. If either moved from behind his cover, I’d get him.

  One tried. I sent him scuttling back.

  I could hear Philip’s breath rasping a few feet behind me. I wanted to turn, I wanted to know what was happening, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the two who were still alive and armed. Or the emergency hatchway, which could bring more of Burke’s people. If that happened, we wouldn’t survive.

  Suddenly, something washed over me. Something warm, familiar. I kept my gaze locked but let it speak to me, in its wordless way. Recognized it.

  Ren. Ren?

  An affirmative sensation. Close. So close that—

  The corridor door exploded into the control room. I raked the cargo stages with a barrage of fire. Forms plunged through the wide opening, firing where I did. Boots pounded into the shuttle bay. Thad’s voice shouted my name.

  I spun around on my knees, not looking for my brother but to protect Sully. He had to be shielded from the squadrons of stripers pouring into the bay. From the Fleet Admin personnel at my brother’s side. All those who would hate him, damn him, because he was a Kyi-Ragkiril—a demon from Englarian legends come to life.

  He knelt beside Philip’s form. The gray mist, the Kyi, clung to him and hovered over Philip. I quickly squatted across from him. Laser fire whined across the bay.

  Philip’s gaze flicked briefly to my face. Sully had one hand on his chest, covering a large, bloodstained area. The other rested lightly at the base of his throat.

  “Sully. Ren and Thad are here. And half of Marker.”

  He nodded without looking at me.

  “I don’t think they’ve seen you yet. Stop—”

  He shook his head. I can’t yet. Besides, he’d die.

  Fear and anguish surged through me, colliding at my heart. They’ll see you. Know what you are.

  Risks, Chasidah. Risks.

  He’d said it in the temple on Moabar, just before he kissed me. All life’s a risk. Ren had reminded him of that, just before I’d learned Sully was a Ragkiril. Risks.

  He kept taking them. They kept hurting him. But he kept taking them.

  “How can I help?” My voice was barely a whisper.

  Infinite, obsidian eyes met mine, briefly. He took his hand from Philip’s throat, held it out. Help me give him life. You can do that. You’re ky’sara to me.

  I moved next to him, clasping his hand, putting my fingers at Philip’s throat. I felt the Kyi flow through me, grow. Philip’s pulse fluttered under my fingers.

  Breathe, Chasidah.

  I breathed.

  Sully breathed.

  Philip breathed.

  Voices shouted, hard and angry. My brother’s voice was one. “Chaz! What in the hell—”

  I squeezed Sully’s hand, raised my gaze. “Get a med-tech, fast. Philip’s been shot. And get someone on the pinnace. The pilot’s in there, injured.”

  Thad barked the order at a uniformed woman behind him. She acknowledged. I heard other voices in harsh, hard whispers.

  “My God. A soul-stealer’s killed Captain Guthrie. We got to—”

  Two large forms stepped forward. I knew their identities without raising my face. Ren. Verno. Warmth surrounded me, like a flow of water from a bubbling spring. Voices became quieter, backed away.

  I breathed.

  Sully breathed.

  Philip breathed. His eyes slitted open again, focused on me.

  I felt his questions, fear. “Thad’s bringing the med-techs. You’ll be fine.”

  Loud boots and the discordant hum of an antigrav stretcher came closer. Ren backed away and two new pairs of boots came into my field of vision. “Holy brother of God!” A blue-coated med-tech dropped to his knees across from me, ran the medistat over Philip’s body. “Impossible! He’s—”

  “Alive.” Sully’s voice was raspy. “It’s your job to keep him that way.”

  Two more blue-coats knelt down, scanning, probing, hooking Philip to their machines. They lifted him onto the stretcher.

  Sully sat back on his heels, his shoulders hunched wearily.

  I clasped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder. He drew me tightly against him, sent warm but slightly ragged spirals through me. But another emotion, one that wasn’t his but was aimed at him, hovered on the edges.

  Hatred. Fear. Revulsion. Med-techs, security guards, Thad’s officers. Hatred emanated from them like a thick, acrid smoke.

  This was Gabriel Sullivan’s Hell. This was what he sensed every time he became what he was, what he had no choice but to be.

  “Chaz!” Thad’s voice, harsh. Thad’s hand, yanking my arm. “News cams, reporters—”

  Sully stood abruptly, jerking me to my feet with him. He grasped my wrists as my arms fell from around his neck, held them tightly. He was shaking, something trembling through him like a jumpdrive engine far out of synch.

  Silvery energy shifted, moved, for the second time in one hour, fading slowly. And judging from the tightness around his eyes, painfully.

  “Get us out of here,” Sully said roughly.

  Bright white lights suddenly flared to my left, blocking our exit to the corridor. Vidcam lenses glinted.

  “The maintenance hatch, behind you,” Thad said. “Get back to my office.”

  We ran.

  37

  It took us twenty minutes to carefully weave our way back to Thad’s office, Ren and Verno mirroring our moves. Another fifteen before Thad joined us. Sully was drained, unnaturally listless. Ren was close to his limit, needing water. Both dismissed my and Verno’s well-meaning concern, but Ren accepted a wet towel Verno brought out of the office lavatory and draped it around his neck.

  It was another two hours, and several more changes of location on Marker, before we were transferred to the safety of the Morgan Loviti. We were greeted tersely by the ship’s chief of security, an older woman I didn’t know. She reminded me of Dorsie. I wondered if the jovial woman was still alive.

  “Commander Bralford’s in sick bay with the captain,” she said, ushering us into the ready room behind the bridge. “He suggested you might want to listen to this.” She flicked on the room’s screen and left.

  The public-relations executive for Crossley Burke had issued a statement disavowing the corporation’s knowledge of, and involvement with, the “unfortunately but obviously mentally unstable Sister Berri Solaria, and their recently terminated security officer, Zabur Lazlo.” I replayed the vidclip twice on the ready room’s central screen. It was a beautifully crafted piece of obfuscation.

  “His excuses are very believable. We may have underestimated him.” Sully had his back to me and stared out the large viewport. His arms were crossed over his chest. I handed Ren a cup of tea from the replicator, then rounded the long table to stand next to Sully. Wordlessly, he declined the tea I offered him. He was obviously dismayed by Hayden Burke’s aggressive response.

  But I knew he was also unsettled by the reaction in the shuttle bay. Angered, and hurt, by those who saw him as a despicable demon, in spite of the fact he’d saved Philip’s life, pushing himself, I realized, to the very limits of his human and Ragkiril strength to do so.

  I wrapped my fingers around his arm, squeezed.

  He sent warmth but no words. Still struggling.

  “They’
ll change their song when the truth comes out, Sully-sir.” With his long legs and arms, Verno overflowed the high-backed chair in much the same way as his continual optimism flowed over the strained tension in the room. Even learning Sully was a Ragkiril hadn’t shaken that. Verno was a true blessing. “Captain Guthrie’s position on the council will make all things right.”

  Sully didn’t answer, but his mouth tightened at the mention of Philip’s name. Philip knew far more about Ragkirils and Kyi-Ragkirils than Sully was comfortable with.

  “You saved his life,” I said softly, hoping he’d see that Philip was indebted to him. Surely my ex-husband would reconsider his prejudices. As Thad had pointed out earlier in his office, the Guthries were nothing if not a highly moral family.

  Dark, infinite eyes turned from the starfield and studied me. “I did so because you asked.”

  “So? That—”

  “You risked your life, and mine, to save him. If I were him, I’d take that as a very encouraging sign.”

  “He was my CO.”

  “He was also your husband.”

  Pain arced through me, but I didn’t know if it was his or mine. “Sully—”

  “Hush.” He laid his finger on my lips. “I know. My confidence waxes and wanes like Sylvadae’s summer moon when I’m tired.”

  The ready-room door slid open. Jodey Bralford, the Loviti’s first officer, stepped in.

  His smile was genuine. Jodey and I had always gotten along. “Brother Ackravaro? We have a cabin with hydrospa ready for you. I apologize for the delay.”

  It hadn’t been fifteen minutes since we’d come on board—perhaps ten since we’d been given clearance to depart Marker. With Philip in sick bay, Jodey was in command and, until we left Marker, had more serious things on his mind than a cabin with a tub. Ren’s weakened condition wasn’t yet life-threatening. Still, Jodey had always been the epitome of efficiency. Ten minutes was unacceptable to him.

  Ren stood, a little unsteadily. Verno held out his hand. “I’ll go with you.”

  Jodey was of stocky build, and only a few inches taller than I was. He glanced from the rising Taka to the tall Stolorth, no doubt thinking that Verno was in a better position to help, should Ren collapse. “Excellent idea.”

  “We’ll be fine here,” Sully said. The ready room had a replicator, a lavatory, and a comfortable couch along the far wall. It suddenly looked very comfortable.

  Jodey’s eyes narrowed slightly. I’d no doubt he’d heard what had happened, what Sully was, but was too much the professional to express it openly. I caught the change in his expression only because I’d known him for several years.

  “Actually, Captain Bergren, I’ve been asked to bring you to sick bay.”

  For a moment my heart froze, but then logic kicked in. If Philip had died, that’s the first thing Jodey would have stated. And his demeanor wouldn’t have been so outwardly calm. He was a professional, career military, as I was. But he was also one of Philip’s close friends.

  “I’ll finish your tea while you’re gone.” Sully took the mug from my hand. He arched one eyebrow, winked at me. But it was a show, for Jodey’s sake. I felt nothing from him, no warmth, no teasing caress.

  Then: Go see Guthrie. Remind him that he owes me. Remind him … that he doesn’t own you.

  I touched his hand, then followed Jodey into the brightly lit corridor.

  Philip’s second in command said nothing until the lift doors closed in front of us. “It’s good to see you safe, Chaz.” He slanted me a glance. “We’ve been worried. I know some of what you’ve been through.”

  “Philip’s awake and talking, is he?”

  His affirmative nod didn’t surprise me. Sully had restored much of Philip’s strength. The Loviti’s sick bay probably wouldn’t have all that much to repair.

  “Philip’s very concerned.” All formality was dropped. It was just Jodey and me in a quietly humming lift. “He thought—we thought—you should let Doc Draper run a few tests.”

  As if being ky’sara to a Ragkiril was a disease.

  “He can help you,” Jodey continued, when I didn’t reply.

  “I’ve a few bumps and bruises, but nothing to bother Doc about, Jodey. Thanks, anyway.” I flashed him a smile.

  His answering one was tinged with sadness. And that bothered me. I guess it felt as if in allying myself with Sully, I’d lost Jodey Bralford’s respect. And that was something I didn’t want to happen. He’d been one of the few, besides my own crew, who’d voiced opposition to my arrest, who’d been emotionally supportive during the trial. He was one of the very few who’d bothered to keep contact with me afterward, while I was in prison, awaiting transfer to Moabar.

  The doors opened. “On a different note,” he said as we stepped into the corridor, “I have some good news.” His voice was bright, but a shade too bright, as if he knew his opinions of Sully affected me. “I’ve been offered a captaincy.”

  “Jodey!” I ignored the fact that the corridor outside sick bay was dotted with Loviti crew. I threw my arms around his broad form and hugged him. “Congratulations!”

  I was genuinely pleased for him. It was an honor that was long overdue.

  “The Nowicki doesn’t have the reputation the Loviti has, but she’s a good ship.” He motioned for me to precede him through sick bay’s wide double doors and reassumed his first officer’s demeanor as three med-techs turned, noting our arrival. “Captain Guthrie’s in Trauma Room 3, Captain Bergren. If you’ll come with me?”

  Doc Draper briefly clasped my hand as we met up at the door to Philip’s room. “Captain,” he said.

  “Come in, Chaz.” Philip’s voice, even weak, held a tone of command.

  A biomesh regen unit covered part of his chest. His left arm was tattooed with med-broches. He held out his right hand. I clasped it. “Burke’s denying all involvement,” I said as I took the seat next to his bed.

  “I’m glad to see you’re alive, Philip.” His mouth quirked into a teasing grin as he said the words I hadn’t.

  “I am glad to see you’re alive,” I repeated.

  He squeezed my hand. “I saw Burke’s delightful disclaimer. Not unexpected, considering who he is. And what he owns.”

  “And who he owns?”

  “Thad intimated as much, yes. It’s something I’ll have Jodey check into, before he transfers. He told you, I take it?”

  I grinned. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer overly efficient man.”

  “He thinks highly of you. He’s … worried. As I am.”

  “The reason you’re worried is the reason you’re still alive. Did you tell Jodey that too?”

  “That’s not the issue here.”

  “I think it’s part of it.”

  “Good deeds don’t change what he is, Chaz. What he’s done to you. You don’t fully understand—”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t. He’s placed a filter around your mind.”

  “It must not be a very good one, because I’m hearing every word you say.”

  “Are you?” He shifted his hand, held my fingers more tightly. “Did you hear what I said to you in Thad’s office? A captaincy could be yours. Jodey’s leaving. My duties as admiral preclude the daily running of this ship. The Loviti, Chaz. I’m offering you the Loviti.”

  Captain of an Imperial destroyer. For a moment, for a very brief moment, I felt the pull, the thrill of those words.

  “Once I clear things with Tage, I’ll have the authority to make that offer.” Philip’s voice interrupted my reverie.

  “I appreciate whatever you can do with Barrister Tage. But your offer … no.”

  “Is that your answer, or his?”

  “Mine!”

  “It’s not. I’ll tell you how I know, Chaz. Don’t pull away. Listen to me, because your life may depend on it. It’s his answer, his desires, not yours. The look on your face when I made you the offer told me you wanted to accept. But then you tell me no. Why? Ask yourself why.” He released my
hand.

  I sat back in my chair, suddenly angry, insulted by Philip’s belief that I didn’t know my own mind. Of course I did. “I’m flattered you’d consider me for a captaincy. But that doesn’t mean I have to take it.”

  “If he weren’t on this ship, you would.”

  “Philip, that’s nonsense.”

  “Prove it.” He reclaimed my hand, uncurling my fingers from the arm of the chair. “We’ll meet up with his ship. Let him leave, with just the Stolorth and the Taka. Stay on the Loviti a week. Spend some time with Doc Draper. If after that you still want to be with him, I’ll deliver you personally.”

  Something that felt like fear trickled through my senses. It was small, distant, barely discernible. But it was there. Sully?

  “Chaz!” Philip yanked my arm. I blinked, shook my head. And for a moment had no idea where, or who, I was. Then it came back to me, flooding over me. Moabar, Sully, Ren. Gregor, Marsh. Berri Solaria.

  Sully.

  “Let me think about it,” I said.

  Philip said nothing until I’d almost reached the door. “One week, Chasidah Bergren. One week. Prove it. Not to me. To yourself.”

  Fear. I felt it more strongly.

  Only fools boast they have no fears.

  Sully turned from the viewport when I walked in. I wondered if he’d been standing there since I’d left to talk to Philip. It had been over forty minutes. Fifty, actually, because I hadn’t gone straight back to the ready room from sick bay. I’d stood in a recessed section of the ship’s corridor for ten minutes, just thinking, and listening to my mind think back.

  “He offered me command of the Loviti.” I rested my hand on the high-backed chair Verno had occupied earlier. “But then, you know that, don’t you?”

  “I felt something upset you.”

  “Then you also know he said you filter all thoughts coming into my mind.”

  “No.” He looked tired, as tired as I felt. But he didn’t look angry. And I wasn’t sure if I was or not. And if I was, I wasn’t sure at whom: Philip, for his accusations; Sully, for silently prying; or myself, torn between believing Philip and not caring that Sully pried.

  “I felt something upset you,” he repeated, more softly this time. “But I didn’t listen in. And I don’t, in spite of what Philip says, filter your thoughts. Or form opinions for you.”