But Drogue had seen holos, as had Sully, of the women’s bodies, bits of jukor wing still visible in their wounds. Those images had been circulated in the Takan communities weeks before Drogue saw them, and now a small group of Takans were taking revenge on human women.
If Tage and Burke wanted to disrupt the Empire, alienating the Takas would be a good place to start.
“So for now,” Drogue said, folding his hands on the tabletop, “the best I can determine is that Commander Bergen is in the security compound in Marker, still pending transfer.”
Marker Five, I told Sully mentally, just as his voice echoed the information in my mind. Also known as Marker’s Outer Terminal, it was the official embarkation point for all of Marker Shipyards, where my brother had been posted for the past seven years. It also housed a very secure holding facility on Level Three.
Not that secure, Sully intoned.
There was truth to that. I’d grown up in Marker. And whatever codes I knew that no longer worked, Sully could handle. Plus they’d be short-staffed if the Takas were taken off-duty. There was almost an irony in the fact that the very thing Burke was trying to do—manipulate the Takas to disrupt the Empire—might actually help Thad.
“And yes,” Drogue continued, “Chasidah’s father has been to see him, as has Admiral Guthrie.”
My father and Philip. Two powerful resources. I dwelled on that as I listened to the rest of Drogue’s message and his acknowledgment of Sully’s information on the Farosians.
“As I get updates for Chasidah, I’ll contact you,” Drogue promised as he signed off. “Praise the stars.”
“Well?” I asked as Sully finished transferring the message into a secure file. I wasn’t really sure what my question was. Only that I had several dozen of them. And they were all clothed in my worry colors.
“Between Guthrie and your father, things may go better than you think,” Sully answered. “They’ll make it appear that I threatened Thad. I’m guessing they’ll end up putting him in protective custody on Marker and then wait for you or me to try to spring him. Which we will,” he added. “Just not in the way they expect.”
“And just what way will that be?”
Sully grinned. “I have no idea. But trust me, angel, I will think of something. And it will be the last thing they’d expect.”
That much I did believe. My knowledge of Marker and Sully’s widely unorthodox creative streak—plus his talents—were damned near unbeatable.
As was Sully’s charm. While that would play no part in Thad’s situation, it did wonders—temporarily at least—to assuage mine. We’d finished our shift duties, Gregor’s monitoring, and dinner. A light yet exotic melody whispered through the cabin’s speakers when I came out of the lavatory, my robe belted around my waist, my skin damp from the shower, a wide-toothed comb in my hand. Sully took the comb from me then pulled me onto the edge of the bed.
My hair was almost dry but he combed through it slowly, taking the time to let the fingers of his free hand trail down my neck. The warmth that followed pulsed, increasing. It spiraled through me, knowing just where to settle as if drawn to my most intimate, sensitive spots.
My breath hitched slightly. Seduction by Sully was still a unique experience, though much less surprising than a few months ago. Then, feeling his pleasure as if it was my own and knowing he could sense mine, had left me exhausted. Deliriously exhausted, but exhausted just the same. Because he was in my mind, he knew just where to touch, caress, nibble. And for how long. And with what intensity.
I was still learning to do the same for him, but it was far easier for me to lose focus, to immerse myself in his and my sensations, not knowing where I ended and he began.
His soft chuckle sounded in my thoughts as he pushed me back against the pillow. The comb clattered against the nightstand. Must you analyze everything?
God, I was doing that, wasn’t I? I bit back a self-conscious smile as sure fingers slipped under my robe and deftly worked their way up my side to stroke my breasts. Perfectly. Absolutely—
Oh, Sully. My mental plea was infused with a moan of delight.
So was his, because he wasn’t the only one with deft fingers. Mmm, Chasidah.
His lips moved from my neck to my mouth, his kiss hard, deep, and demanding. He knew when I was tired and wanted it gentle and slow.
This wasn’t one of those times.
I returned his kiss with equal intensity. He tasted like the tea we’d shared a half hour before. I sensed his intoxication with the citrusy scent of my shampoo. Our awareness mixed, melded. Flowed.
Passion surged, flaring, spreading from between my thighs and his, skin slick now. His roughness. My velvet dampness that needed…Oh, God. Yes. Right there. Like that, like…
I arched into his hand, as much aware of my own readiness as I was of his need, his desire. We pulsed, throbbed, spiraled, lost in a pleasure that drew us upward. It felt as if a thousand wings beat in a sensual trembling over my body, the sensation so exquisite I longed to cry out, but could only gasp his name.
“Gabriel—”
Chasidah. Love. Trust me.
With my heart. With my life. Gabriel—
I was on the edge. So was he. I recognized a silken heat twining tightly through us. The energies of the Kyi intensifying everything yet cocooning us in its powerful, tender grasp. But it was stronger than last time, or any other time. My breath caught hard at its unexpected potency but I wanted more. More of Gabriel, more of whatever this was I felt now. I didn’t know it. I didn’t recognize it. But I wanted it. Dear God, I wanted him, I wanted this power…
Yes, love. Take it with me.
Our bodies surged, joining. Our thoughts spun together like colors on a wheeling palette. Our senses reached to infinity and everywhere we touched, pleasure exploded, a million stars dancing behind my eyelids. Wave after wave urged me higher than I’d ever been. And what small part of my mind could still piece together a rational thought wondered how and why this was so.
But then that thought was gone. There was no more thought. There was only Gabriel, there was only love as a molten, flowing substance, searing pleasure into my soul. Into Chasidah. Into Gabriel. Into ky’sara and ky’sal.
The galaxy whirled around us. Gabriel plucked a twinkling star and pressed it into my hand. His eyes were infinite darkness lit by a thousand galaxies shining in their depths.
I want to give you everything. I can, now. If you trust me.
I love you, I told him. I closed my fingers around the star.
He covered my hand with his. His voice was rough, aching with tenderness. All that I am, is yours.
All that I am is……yours.
When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, I peeked through fluttering lashes at the bedside clock. Almost four hours. We’d been making love for almost four hours. We—
Hush, Chasidah. Gabriel brushed the side of my face with his fingers.
My eyes closed.
Then they opened, the pungent, insistent aroma of hot tea nudging my body awake. I checked the red numbers again. Another four hours had passed. Time to get up, get back to my duties, check on what Gregor had done—
Stars be praised, last night had been incredible. The sensations washed over me. Not like last night’s riptide. This was simply a memory, but it was enough to set my body tingling. I sucked in a deep breath and watched Sully pad into the bedroom, mug of tea in one hand.
He put it on the bedside table and, smiling, bumped his hip against mine. I inched over then levered up on my elbows. He was shirtless, wearing only his black pants. In the room’s half-light, I could almost swear his skin…glowed.
I blinked. Was I still dreaming? Was I still spiraling through the intense pleasure of the Kyi with him?
He lowered his face to mine and brushed my mouth with a slow, lazy kiss that curled my toes even as my mind fought for balance.
“Mmm, Sully,” I said when he pulled back. I vaguely remembered saying, “Mmm, Sully” a lot l
ast night but with considerably more force. “Is it just me, or was what we did last night…” My words trailed off. I didn’t quite know how to phrase it. What happened last night? sounded so crass.
“Complaining?” His mouth quirked.
“No, but—”
He tilted his head slightly. One eyebrow arched challengingly. “Was my lovemaking so boring before?”
“No!”
The eyebrow lowered, the smile softened. “What happened was I love you, angel-mine. Never forget that. Now, tea’s ready.” He retrieved the mug and handed it to me as I sat up. “Drink up, then we’ll go see what my traps caught Gregor doing while he thought we were asleep.”
I took a big mouthful of tea and watched him pull a shirt from his closet. The lethargy that surrounded me upon waking fell away like a cloak dropping from my shoulders. I felt strangely electric, very alive. The aftermath of good sex? Or…I sniffed the tea. Smelled normal. I took another sip.
Sully tossed me clean underwear and my long-sleeved dark green shirt.
Great sex, I decided, seeing his eyes darken in appreciation as I slid, naked, from under the covers. I put the tea on the nightstand, grabbed my clothes, and headed for the shower. Just a light rinse-off.
Sully’s head appeared in the open doorway. “Aubry wants me to check something on the secondary power grid. I’ll pick up breakfast from Dorsie on the way back.”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I called through the spray.
“I have Gregor’s adventures up on the deskscreen. Nothing interesting yet. But take a look.”
I saluted. He blew me a kiss and ducked out.
I dried off, dressed, then sank down into the hard-backed chair in front of Sully’s deskscreen and scrolled through eight hours’ worth of data on Gregor. Sully was right. Nothing out of the ordinary, but then we’d already been intercepted by the Farosian ship. That part of Gregor’s job was done, and we were headed for Narfial. Something Gregor knew before we left Dock Five, something he’d already told the Farosians.
Unless we changed course, he’d probably stay silent for the next three and a half days.
I sipped at my now-cold tea and pulled up the files Sully had filched yesterday. Sully had scoffed at Gregor’s attempts to subvert any Ragkiril mind-probe. Curiosity pricked at me. I wondered where Gregor had gone for answers, wondered if he’d somehow come across the Guthrie family’s files.
Philip had known, when Sully had confronted him in Thad’s office months back, that Sully was a Kyi-Ragkiril. Had known because the Guthries had made it their business years back to learn all they could about sentients linked to an energy field that most of the Empire considered mythical. Philip had known there were human Ragkirils.
Even Fleet had yet to admit that.
The research Gregor obtained was bare-bones, almost Fleet-issue in its discussion of zrals and zragkors. There was also discussion of hypnosis as the real culprit, and the Ragkiril legends nothing more than a smoke screen used by crafty con artists.
But no con artist could whisk me up the center core of Marker 2 without any visible means of propulsion, other than using the energy fields of the Kyi. I’d seen the Kyi, experienced it. Sully and I had made love there as we had last night—
“The Bond-Slave and Addiction to the Kyi.” The title of the article caught my eye. I paged up. I recognized only one of the authors’ names: a woman who’d lectured a few times at the Academy’s Non-Human Cultures classes before retiring from her post as a researcher with West Baris University’s Xenocultural Department. She’d been a bland, unassuming woman, her name linked with some minor scandal my brain refused to remember.
What I found more interesting was that funding for her study had come partly from the Harmony-One Project, under direction of the Guthrie Foundation. Philip’s family.
The domination of a Ragkiril over its non-Ragkiril subject is often solidified by the drugging of the subject’s mind through intense pleasure. As with addiction to any other artificial stimulant, the mind of the ky’sara—the bond-slave—craves more, and the Ragkiril is capable of expanding its energies to provide new and ever-increasing sensory diversification, thereby cementing the addictive experience. Sexual activity—especially involving the energies of the mystical state of the Kyi—is the usual method by which domination is enforced, though there are reports of other dependency transactions that, in the beginning stages of the relationship, can work equally as well.
However, all inevitably end in the death of the bond-slave when the bond-slave can no longer provide the Ragkiril with the entertainment it seeks, or when the bond-slave dies of exhaustion.
I knew all that. Philip had tried to scare me with that information, warning me that Sully would only use me until he became bored. Then he’d kill me.
But Philip hadn’t known about the ky’sal bond—the bond Sully had with me. An equal bond, not the parasitic fatal relationship Philip and these purported scholars saw the ky’saran bond to be.
I paged down the report, discounting it as so much biased, incomplete information. Then I saw the word ky’sal.
There are several documented reports from Stolorth scholars of an equal exchange of energies with a Ragkiril. Known as the ky’sara–ky’sal function, it represents an exclusive mental and sexual relationship. This is believed to be a life-bond between two Ragkirils of equal or near-equal strength. Breaking the bond is purported to result in the death of one if not both parties, depending on the balance of power at the time, unless a third Ragkiril is brought in as a substitute mate. However, the newcomer must be of greater strength than the original bond pair—most likely an intensely powerful Kyi-Ragkiril—in order to effect the transfer. Stoloth legends from the Forty-First Century Ayirr Dynasty tell of a Kyi-Ragkiril guri (supreme mentor) who demanded the transfer of his students’ ky’sara to him as a gesture of submission and obedience. Contemporary Stolorth officials deny this practice still exists.
I remembered being trapped in the shuttle bay on Marker 2 under fire from Burke’s followers, Philip at my side.
“There are supposed to be ways to break a ky’saran link,” Philip had told me. “I’ll help you.”
Is this what he’d known?
A trilling sound jolted me out of my thoughts. Incoming transmit—incoming private transmit—via my deskscreen. I moved quickly to the other side of the desk, tapping at my screen as I swiveled my chair around.
A message was waiting for me, tagged urgent. From Admiral Philip Guthrie.
Oh, God. Thad.
Right after Sully and I had left the Loviti and returned to the Karn, I made sure Philip had both Sully’s and my secure, private transmit links. Philip was a source of information even Sully agreed we couldn’t afford to ignore. But Philip hadn’t tried to contact me until now.
With Drogue’s comment that both Philip and my father had been in to see Thad fresh in my mind, I brought up the message file. It cycled through Sully’s security filters. Then Philip’s image appeared on my screen.
He didn’t look as pale as I’d last seen him, but of course at that point he’d had med-broches plastered over most of his body, having barely survived Berri Solaria’s attempt to kill him. His expression was grim but other than that he was the usual impeccable Admiral Philip Guthrie, his trademark prematurely silver hair cropped short, the blueness of his eyes only adding that much more interest to an already classically handsome face. He was forty-five, ten years my senior. He’d been my mentor, my commanding officer, my husband, my ex, my friend. I wasn’t sure what role he was playing now.
“I hope this reaches you in time, Chaz,” Philip said. He was seated behind a desk in his private office on the Loviti. “And Sullivan, if you’re listening to this—and I have to assume you are—yes, I used every security measure and then some to make sure this transmit is not intercepted or decoded.”
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. Philip didn’t like Sully any more than Sully liked Philip, and neither took great pains to hide that
fact.
“I’m assuming you know about Thad’s arrest,” he continued. “It’s been on the news feeds. What you need to know is I had no advance notice or I obviously would have taken some kind of action. Jodey actually learned of it before I did. Thad didn’t attempt to contact me. Perhaps things would be different if he had. Perhaps not.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I didn’t at all like the sound of Philip’s “perhaps not.”
This was one of the problems with civilian deep-space transmits. No real-time communications. Only Fleet had the technology and permission for that. I wanted to reach through the screen and shake the information out of him. All I could do now was wait as Philip leaned forward and folded his hands.
“Thad’s turning state’s evidence. Against my advice, your father’s on his way now to make him tell everything he knows about you and Sullivan.”
My stomach hit the floor, my hands turned to ice, and for a moment, my head spun dizzily. Something grabbed me, centering me, concern and strength flooding my senses.
Chasidah?
I slapped the pause icon on the screen. Sully needed to be here and hear this.
A transmit from Philip just came in, I told him, now sensing a secondary calming presence in my mind. Ren. Wherever Sully was, Ren was with him. Bad news, I continued. Can you—?
On my way.
It wasn’t quite fifteen seconds and the cabin door opened, Sully surging in. I’d already restarted the transmit and, at his nod, let him listen from the beginning.
“Your father’s on his way there now to make him tell everything he knows about you and Sullivan,” Philip’s image said again. “I understand the need for self-preservation, but I never thought…” His mouth thinned and he shook his head. “I’ve known Thad for too many years. He’s an intelligent, capable man. But Lars…Thad won’t cross him. And Lars was adamant in his conversation with me that he wasn’t going to lose both his adult children. He said he wasn’t going to tolerate any further damage to the Bergren name. He still has your half brother, Willym, to worry about.”
Lars didn’t lose me. He disowned me. Abandoned me. Not that that surprised me. I’d been a traitor from the day I decided I preferred to live with my mother after their divorce. Marrying Philip Guthrie had briefly brought me back into the realm of acceptable. Being court-martialed had taken me clearly out of it again.
Shades of Dark Page 5
