The Command Center was busier than usual, but the bustle had a feel of anticipation rather than panic to it. The captain nodded at him from where she stood in front of the view screens, and he moved to join her there.
"Morning, Captain. You look rested."
"Is that a complaint because I pulled you out of bed, Commander? I must warn you, I'm feeling testy today." She looked anything but testy, eyes sparkling and face flushed with energy.
"Any particular reason you feel that way, Captain?"
"Didn't get my morning cup of coffee. But I've decided to break away from Central today to make myself feel better. What do you think?"
He pretended to consider it, frowning at the view screen of the destroyer on approach to the station. Then he shrugged. "Beats a cup of coffee. Let's do it."
She chuckled as he turned away and started organizing the chaos in the Center to something more manageable, getting information as he went. The resident alien species had been informed, and the station's defense systems were up and ready, including a squadron of fighters waiting a go for launch on the flight deck. The major things had been done, and all Jason had to do was deal with the details. He was busy doing just that when the destroyer contacted them.
"Seems that big ship wants to talk to you, Captain," he called to Marta in an offhand tone.
"I've got a minute, Commander. Go ahead and put them through."
With a hard grin, he gave the order and then stared in shock as a familiar face appeared on the large screen in front of his captain.
"Captain Jamison, this is Captain Bridges of the star destroyer Calypso. I have two Guild members aboard my ship who claim that you've been harboring a dangerous fugitive. I've assured them that there must be some sort of misunderstanding, but they insisted on hearing that from you."
Jason couldn't resist—he moved across the Center to join Marta as she smiled her best wolfish smile and answered the man, "Captain Bridges, it's been a long time. I'm sure you remember my second, Commander Salvatore?"
"Bridges—how's the jaw?" Jason gave the man who'd gotten his brother killed a grim smile of his own as Bridges leaned back, clearly flustered. He'd always wondered what he would feel if he ever saw the man again. Surprisingly, his level of antagonism wasn't nearly as high as he'd expected. Maybe breaking the man's jaw had been enough.
"Fine, fine. Ah…Captain, the Guild members are anxious to retrieve this fugitive of theirs. I recommend that you have her ready when we board—"
"That won't be possible."
"I beg your pardon."
"You do not have clearance to dock. You are not authorized to board. Neither you nor your Guild Members are welcome here, Captain Bridges."
"What—what nonsense is this? What are you playing at, Jamison?"
Jason watched Marta take a breath to say her fateful line, both amused and enervated by the glow of conviction on her face. But they were interrupted before she could deliver it.
"Captain! Commander…" A young officer rushed up to them, her face pale and eyes wide.
"Problem?" Jason asked calmly, taking her arm and turning her away from the screen so that Bridges wouldn't see.
"Y-yes! There's a shuttle…"
But apparently that was old news to Bridges. Without breaking his connection to the station, Jason heard him addressing this mystery shuttle. "This is Captain Bridges of the star destroyer Calypso. Identify yourself."
"Who is it?" Jason murmured in the young officer's ear, but the answer didn't come from her.
"Captain, this is Lieutenant Frank Cooper. I've got somebody here who wants to board your vessel."
Jason turned to the screen in dawning horror, his extremities turning to ice. He knew in his heart who was on that shuttle.
"Captain, this is Anya Vaedrin. I am the person the Guild Members are looking for. I'm turning myself in."
"No!" Jason shouted in a hoarse voice, lunging forward, and then checking himself to round on the officer. "Connect me with that shuttle! Now!"
She practically leapt away, taking only seconds before she nodded compliance to his order, verbal only.
Trying his best to keep his voice level, Jason gripped the edge of a console to contain the violence rushing through him. "Lieutenant, you turn that shuttle around and get your sorry ass back here double time. That's not a request—it's a goddamned order!"
Marta appeared at his elbow and grasped his arm, shaking her head in warning. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what she was warning him about. Frank was turning the woman he loved over to a bunch of mercenary bastards who were probably going to chop her into small bits by the time they were through. He thought he was handling himself pretty damned well, all things considered.
"Sorry, Jace, can't do it."
"Lieutenant," Marta spoke hurriedly, cutting Jason off just as he was about to explode, "what's the situation?"
"Just as Anya said, Captain. She's turning herself in."
Jason gripped the console harder and heard it creak in protest. He felt like he was shattering.
Marta's hold on his arm tightened. "Frank, let me talk to her."
"I'm here, Marta."
Jason closed his eyes at the sound of her voice, his thoughts spinning around in panicked circles. What the hell was he going to do?
"Don't do this, Anya. I understand why you feel you should, but it's not necessary. I want you to come back. I won't be angry if you've—influenced Frank."
Jason shot his captain a startled look, suddenly realizing why Frank had refused his order. Was Anya so bent on sacrificing herself that she'd do that to a friend? Not to mention what she was doing to him…
"That's—not an issue, Captain. And I can't return now even if I wanted to. I'm certain the destroyer wouldn't allow that."
Jason felt an agonized groan work its way out of his chest, knowing that she was telling the truth. Now that Bridges and the Guild Members knew who was on that shuttle, they'd rather shoot it down than see it return to the station. If he could send out the squadron now and give the shuttle some protection, she and Frank might stand a chance…
"Please try to understand, Captain. It's like you said, sometimes an idealist must surrender to practicality."
Marta's grip tightened until it was painful, and Jason raised his head to stare at her. "Cut both transmissions," his captain said with cool calm before letting him go.
"No wait, Anya—" But the officer shook her head, indicating that the connections had been broken. Jason whirled on his captain, fear and despair curdling in his stomach. "Why the hell did you—"
"She's up to something."
He stared into Marta's serene face in total incomprehension. "What?"
"She's planning something, and it's not to turn herself in."
"How do you know that?"
"I never said an idealist should ever surrender to practicality. Sometimes it's true, but I never said it." She smiled and turned to the young officer. "Will you get Captain Bridges back for me?"
"Captain, if we send out a squadron now, we can cut the shuttle off before it docks. If she gets on board, we can't—"
"I'm telling you," she murmured as the screen flickered to show Bridges again, "she's up to something."
"You don't know that!" His voice was more than loud enough for Bridges to hear.
"Captain Jamison, you need to keep your second on a tighter leash. He's prone to violence."
"That's not your concern, Captain Bridges. I assume you'll be leaving this system once you've gotten what you came for."
"I don't know why you were so bent on keeping her, but believe me, Jamison, things are better for you this way. You were headed for a court-martial, mark my words."
"Oh certainly, trying to keep an innocent woman from being imprisoned and tortured for a talent she was born with is most definitely a court-martial offense. I don't know why I didn't see that before."
"Don't be such a sore loser, Marta. The Guild says she's a criminal and that should be en
ough for us."
"I didn't give you permission to use my first name, Bridges. Don't be so familiar with me—it makes me ill."
As with everything she'd said to Bridges, the insult was delivered in an even tone, as though she were discussing the weather. The other captain scowled and cut the connection. Jason considered this an act of cowardice, though the man wouldn't have won in a war of words with Marta anyway.
"Pompous ass," she muttered under her breath, as she turned away from the screen and faced Jason. "Now we wait."
"Damn it, Marta, I can't just—" His voice was hoarse with strain and though her eyes were compassionate, her expression was stern as she held up a hand to cut him off.
"We wait. Remember what she's capable of."
"You'd better be right," he muttered, as they both turned to face the screen that showed the shuttle approaching the destroyer, "or you're coming up with a hell of a rescue plan."
"Deal," she murmured, shifting closer as if in comfort. Jason clenched his jaw and tried to remember his faith in his captain, as a thick, waiting silence descended on the Command Center.
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Anya murmured, as they drew ever closer to the enormous, formidable ship.
"We can still turn around." Frank was watching her with concern in his eyes. "Jace'll see us run for it and send out the fighters."
"And then the destroyer will fire. People will die."
He said nothing, only watched her with solemn eyes. She shuddered as the shadow of the ship swallowed them.
"Do you think she understood?"
"She stopped talkin', didn't she?"
She didn't think that was a particularly reassuring response, but she didn't waste her time calling him on it. They were entering an enormous docking bay and she could feel her heart pounding in her throat. There were armed guards waiting for her.
Frank landed the shuttle with a gentle bump and then turned to her with a knot of worry on his forehead. "I still say I should go with—"
"No, Frank. You know it wouldn't work. They wouldn't let you anyway."
He grimaced, and she put her arms around him in a hard hug.
"Be careful, little girl," he muttered in a gruff voice, and she kissed his cheek before pulling away.
"You, too, Frank," she whispered as she rose, and then headed to the door before she could change her mind and huddle in a corner. It was too late for huddling anyway.
She was half amused, half terrified to see all four of the guards training their weapons on her as she emerged from the shuttle. What the hell had the Guild members been saying about her? As meekly as she could, she approached them, trying to appear as harmless as possible. They surrounded her, prodding her towards the exit.
She heard the shuttle lift away and whispered softly, "Good luck, Frank," as she was escorted into the bowels of the ship. She didn't ask where they were going and her escort didn't tell her, but she had a pretty good idea that they were taking her to the bridge. She hoped so, anyway.
A maze of corridors and a lift later, she was ushered onto a spacious bridge where the captain presided at the center. Two people stood by his chair, neither in Fleet uniform. The insignias on their collars proclaimed them Guild members. The captain glanced around and motioned her forward with unconscious arrogance.
"You would do well to be careful," the female Guild Member said in cultured tones, as she stared at Anya with glacial blue eyes. "We've warned you how dangerous she is."
"I'm sure she's no threat with the both of you here," he answered in an absent tone, his curious eyes roaming over her.
Anya stepped forward, her fear disappearing as she stared at the two telepaths. What replaced it was an anger the likes of which she'd never felt before. Here were her persecutors, the people she had run from all her life in terror of being discovered. These were the people who had loosed a rabid dog to chase her to the ends of human space. These were the people who had put not only her life in danger, but the lives of her family and friends as well. She felt fury like a red tide washing over her and welcomed it. It could only help what was to come.
"I'm curious, why have you turned yourself in?" the captain asked.
"You believe I've turned myself in?" she responded softly, but without taking her eyes off of the telepaths. The male Guild member gave a slight frown, and she felt them both probe at her barriers. She held them back with ease as she continued to speak, "You believe that you are safe with your two Guild lapdogs, Captain? I was poisoned and exhausted when I killed the psycho they sent after me." She turned her eyes to Bridges, giving him a gentle smile. "I'm neither today. What makes you think they will be any obstacle for me?"
His eyes widened in alarm, and the female telepath made an abortive gesture with one hand, but Anya had already begun. Only it wasn't the telepaths she was after. Closing her eyes to concentrate, she reached out in an expanding bubble around her, the force of her talent overtaking the minds of first the bridge crew, then pressing out to find other members of the ship in a determined wave. It was a mammoth effort, larger than she had expected, but she didn't allow herself to waver even when she started to feel torn inside. Too much was at stake for her to fail; too many lives depended on her success. She felt herself stretch thin, ripping burning strips of herself away as she pushed herself further than she had ever gone before. Her talent had engulfed the entire ship before she let herself stop.
When she opened her eyes, swaying on her feet and burning emptily inside, every last crew member of the destroyer was fast asleep. The Guild Members were still conscious, but barely—the female was slumped over the captain's chair, half reclining on the comatose captain, and the male was on all fours, shaking his head like a dog with an earache.
Anya's legs gave out, and she collapsed in a heap on the floor. She felt a distant alarm to see the female telepath raise her head, but her strength was gone. The room was swimming out of focus even as the woman turned to look at her with malice in her cold eyes.
Chapter 23
Jason shifted and asked for the fourth time, "What the hell is he doing?"
The shuttle had gone into the ship and had come back out again, but was now drifting along side the destroyer like a piece of flotsam in its wake. Frank was not answering their hails.
"You say that one more time, and I'm demoting you," Marta murmured, but she said it absently, her concentration on what was happening on the view screen. Or more precisely, what wasn't happening.
Jason made a wordless growl of frustration and nodded for the com officer to try again. She did and then gave him a reluctant shake of her head. He was considering sending out fighters in spite of his captain's orders when the shuttle began moving. But not in the direction Jason expected.
"What the hell is he doing?" he asked again, but Marta was busy watching the shuttle disappear back into the destroyer and didn't bother to demote him.
"Ready the fighters," she ordered, and he gave her an exasperated look.
"Captain, they've been ready."
"Then send 'em out, Jace. I can't have them taking one of my officers, too."
He gave the order to launch and was gratified to see fighters winging out of the bay in less than a minute. He expected the destroyer to respond with at least an opening of her gun ports, but there was no response, not even a hail.
"Get me Captain Bridges," Marta ordered, but he could see by the light frown on her face that this wasn't what she had been expecting.
"Ma'am, they don't respond," the com officer announced, and Marta glanced at her, eyebrows raised.
"You mean they've refused communication?"
"No, ma'am. I mean they just don't respond. It's getting through, but no one's acknowledging."
Jason caught the captain's eye and raised his eyebrows, silently asking permission. She nodded, and he gave the order to do a fly-by. They wouldn't ignore that.
But as his fighters were winging towards the large ship, the com officer spoke up again. "Wait, we're getting so
mething—oh."
Both Jason and Marta turned to her, but the officer pointed at the screen behind them with a look of stunned surprise. They turned around to see Frank grinning at them.
"Hey, anybody want a destroyer?"
"Lieutenant—" the captain began, but he didn't seem to notice the warning in her tone.
"Seems the Fleet's got itself a dud crew here—every single one of 'em is asleep! Had to negotiate me a treaty with a couple of telepaths, but I'm thinkin', hey, finders keepers on the ship. Be a waste to let it just float out here, Cap."
"Where's Anya?" Jason asked, his concern making it impossible for him to respond to Frank's levity.
"Well, she's out, too, actually," the lieutenant said in a more sober voice, and Jason's heart jack-knifed in his chest. "But she told me that'd happen. She said it was a really big ship with a huge crew, and it was going to waste her something fierce to put 'em all to sleep. But she seems okay—pulse is good and all that."
Jason turned away and ordered a medical team down to the flight deck. He was annoyed to see Marta grinning like a Cheshire cat—Frank was no damned medical expert, and Anya could be in serious trouble.
"So, Cap, I know it's not for a couple of months and all, and you're a really hard woman to shop for but—" Frank waved an expansive hand behind him with a grin. "Happy Birthday!"
Marta tipped her head back and laughed, clearly delighted with the turn of events. "Oh, Frank, and I got you nothing but a card for yours!"
"There's always next year," he said with a wink, and Jason glared from one to the other.
"Celebrate later! We've got to secure that thing and get Anya medical attention first."
"The voice of reason," Marta murmured, throwing him an amused glance, but she inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Get the fighters in there first and have them round up the sleepers. If any of them comes to while the ship is not secure, we could have a fight on our hands."
He nodded and called out the orders, but then turned to the view screen grimly. "Get Anya out of there, Coop. If I don't see you on the flight deck in five minutes, I'll hand you your ass, do you hear me?"
Angels and Ministers of Grace Page 23
