He took an inelegant step toward her, the servos whirring, and lurched to a stop, trying to avoid Happy. The dog had gone still, his ears pricked up and his head cocked, looking at the brace. Charlie remained where she was, her expression tortured. He knew why. He was at fault here. He would have to make the first move.
“Charlie. Do you think we could talk?” He waved Happy aside and took a few more steps.
She came a little closer, but stood just outside his reach, her arms wrapped around her slender body as if she had to keep from herself from touching him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He thought about it. “Well, I will be. What about you? Sonny didn’t hurt you?” If he had, Rafe would be rethinking the decision to wipe and dump the bastard.
“No. Louise and I came out of it okay.”
Happy was circling between the two of them, tail whipping. Charlie called him to her side with a curt gesture. The dog came and sat without hesitation, sensing her precarious mood.
“You’re angry.” He wanted to close the awful distance between them, but it would take much more than a step. “I deserve it. I’m sorry, Charlie.”
She considered him for a long, silent moment before she said, “It hurt that you couldn’t trust me, Rafe.”
“I know. I wanted to.” The truth had been on his lips a dozen times in the quiet hours after he’d made love to her. Why hadn’t he just told her?
“We have a saying here on Earth,” she said. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
Well, yes. Good intentions. His. Rescue’s. They all added up to one great big wall between him and Charlie. One he had to find a way over—or through—if the rest of his life was going to mean anything.
“You’re right,” he said. “But that’s all over now. I’m done with Rescue’s rules. I promise to tell you everything as soon as we get two minutes to ourselves.”
“You’re a little late,” she said, her tone dry. “Lana and Rayna already took care of that.”
He stared, willing his jaw to remain closed. “Rayna told you?”
“Said she got tired of fighting both of us,” Charlie explained. “I guess it helped that I saw Gabriel put the Vulcan death grip on Louise.”
“The—you mean you saw him wipe her?”
“Yes.” Charlie didn’t look happy about it.
Boratz. “I hope she told you why it was necessary.”
“She did.” She sighed. “I’m beginning to understand it.”
He reached out very carefully to touch her face. “My brave Charlie. What a day you’ve had.”
“Well, only part of it was your fault.” She relented at last and moved closer to slip her arms around his waist.
He gathered her in. “All of it was my fault. Can you forgive me?”
She looked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “That may take some time.”
“I can wait,” he said, and kissed her. She tasted like tea and honey. And home.
He was set to deepen the kiss, but she broke it off and looked down. “It’s too early for you to be up and around.”
“The miracles of galactic medicine.” He balanced the best he could, his legs braced wide apart; the last thing he wanted was for this moment to end with him falling on his ass. “I’m fine, beautiful. Really. I’m okay.” He pulled her back in tight, so he could feel her warm body along the length of his. But he couldn’t control the trembling in his legs, a sign of his fatigue.
She felt it, too, and pulled back. “We need to get you inside.”
He nodded and started his ungainly hike to the stoop. She held his hand, but didn’t otherwise try to help him. Rafe recognized she’d probably had some experience with patients like him—guys with more pride than sense. He used the wooden rail to steady himself on the stairs, and the brace did its job adequately.
Charlie was fascinated. “I’ve never seen that kind of brace before. It’s computerized?”
He got through the door into the kitchen, paused to wipe the snow off his feet and went through the kitchen into the great room before he answered. “Yes, and really lightweight. But I’m no expert. You’d have to ask the doc about how it works.” He flopped down in the second recliner next to his father. “How are you, Old Man?”
“Better’n you, looks like,” Del said. He waved at Rafe’s leg. “What happened, you get bit by a fang eel?”
“Something like that. Ship’s doc took care of it.”
Del grunted, accepting the bare bones of the story without further comment. Some days the Old Man was much as he’d been when Rafe was growing up. Taciturn. Not inclined to ask for the details unless they were relevant to whatever he was doing.
Rafe glanced up. People were entering the room to observe Gabriel’s interaction with Del. Everyone was here except Louise, who, since her encounter with Gabriel, was not part of this little conclave. He knew it was for the best, but it must have been a shock to Charlie. This was all new to her. When Charlie sat on the arm of his chair, he slipped his arm around her waist, wishing he could offer more in the way of reassurance.
“Okay, so when we gonna get this launch underway?” Del looked from Gabriel to Rayna to Lana. He hardly spared Rafe a glance. “It’s six o’clock, and I go to bed at eight. That’s all the time you get.”
All heads swung in Del’s direction, and Rafe could feel his own eyebrows climb. Had they been working on the Old Man while he was gone, trying to convince him to go along with Gabriel’s brain scan?
Rayna denied it. “I was with you all morning, Rafe,” she reminded him. “I didn’t say a word to your father!”
Rafe turned to Lana, who held up her hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me—all I did was make polite conversation while I gave him lunch. Then he had a nap.”
“I’m still right here, people!” Del said. “Think I can’t figure this out for myself? A whole pack of Rescue agents shows up, a Thrane included, yapping about some secret Gray weapon and you need help. I can’t remember shit by myself. How else are you gonna find anything out except to let Pretty Boy here scratch around in my brain? Now, let’s get to it!”
Rafe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He’d thought up a big speech for the Old Man, preparing him for a decision he’d apparently already made. But that was Del Gordon all the way. Even when he’d had all his marbles, you never knew what he was thinking.
On the other hand, even though Rafe had made up his own mind to allow this, now that the time had come to do it his chest tightened and his pulse kicked up. Gabriel was half-human, it was true, but the technique he would be using was all Thrane—and scary as hell. Would there be anything left of his father when the deed was done?
Then he felt a small, warm hand slip over his where he gripped his knee. Charlie, letting him know she was there for him. He took a breath, and let it out. Something in her presence gave him the confidence he needed.
When he saw Gabriel had turned to look at him, he met the Thrane’s gaze and nodded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Gabriel got a straight-backed chair from the dining table and pulled it up next to the recliner where Del Gordon sat watching him. If the old man was afraid, or resentful, or just plain pissed off that Gabriel would soon be rooting around in his memories, he gave no sign of it. But, then, Del had been Rescue once. Gabriel supposed he still was at heart.
Gabriel put a hand on Del’s arm, issued a subliminal command for calm, and began, his voice low and soothing. “Okay, Del, just close your eyes for me and relax. I want you to think of a place you might have seen long ago, a prison camp called T7. . .”
As he spoke, he slipped past the gauzy screens that served to separate Del’s mind from his. Without training, even the healthiest of human minds had little protection from one with his talents. But Del’s mind was by no means healthy, and the Rescue training meant to help him resist the invasion of his mind had long since been forgotten. Any shields were in tatters, and the terrain that lay beyond was pitted and scarred
, cratered with gaping holes and littered with piles of slag. Here and there oases of thriving memory still lived, but it was as if some warlike catastrophe had ravaged the landscape of Del’s mind, leaving little of value behind.
Gabriel sought out the nearest green space and pushed inside. Images of living beings assaulted him from all sides. Some—like the people in this room—he recognized; many he didn’t. Some were human, some alien. Gabriel soon realized almost all were loved ones or friends; he could feel the emotion attached to them. But when he spotted Kwai Tone Ze in the crowd, he knew he had his way in.
He held on to the image of Kwai. Del. How do you know this man?
--We’ve been friends a long time. Affection warmed him.
--Do you remember where you met him? Was it perhaps in T7?
Instantly, Gabriel was thrown to another part of Del’s mind, connected by only the thinnest of threads to the place where he’d been. This place was not lush and vivid, but it wasn’t lost to the devastation that ravaged other sections, either. Gabriel could see the dim outlines of an open quad surrounded by barracks, a fence, guard towers—and at an unknown distance, earthworks, perhaps a tunnel entrance.
He gave Del a gentle push. Is this the T7 labor camp?
--I don’t know. It could be. I’m not sure. I met Kwai here.
--Think of the camp, Del. I’ll help you. Gabriel focused his energy on the image Del was showing him. Healing was not a skill he had cultivated, but he had been trained to use his psi talents to sharpen the details of memory in others. As long as some memory remained, there was hope.
And, gradually, like a forest revealing itself as the fog lifts, the images in Del’s mind resolved into clarity. Soon Gabriel had a complete picture of the T7 compound. But he could see no sign of the planet-killer.
--Show me as much of your time here as you can, Del. What did you do for the Grays in this place?
Once again Gabriel was overwhelmed with random images. He saw a desert, a dirt road leading out of the camp to a pitted bowl in the hard-packed earth, work gangs clearing scrub in the hot sun, others excavating a tunnel. But Gabriel was forced to organize and sequence the images himself, imposing order on the received chaos. And the old man was growing more anxious by the second, his heart rate increasing, his fear palpable in his mind.
Gabriel prompted his companion with a question. The Grays were digging underground, is that it, Del?
An image flashed through their minds—a wide, circular underground chamber, a metallic object resting on a cradle in the center, a control panel. Then white-hot pain seared them both. Gabriel gasped and threw up a block to protect them. Del shuddered under his hand.
Gabriel was aware of the others in the room speaking out in shocked protest. Rafe leaned toward him, but Charlie gently restrained him. Gabriel didn’t hear what they were saying. He kept his focus; he was at the heart of things now.
--What was that, Del? That . . . chamber. You built it?
--Yes. No! It hurts to remember. Leave it alone! Get out!
--Calm, Del! Be calm! We are far from that place, now. We’re safe. It’s okay to remember.
Del responded to the command to calm down, his pulse slowing, his agitation decreasing. But as Gabriel worked to retrieve the image that had swept through his mind, he began to think there was more to Del’s fear than they could blame on his dementia. That white-hot pain was nothing organic. It had been imposed for a specific reason.
He decided to approach that trigger from another direction. Tell me about the day of your escape from the prison camp.
Gabriel saw the six others who had paid the ultimate price for their knowledge of T7, the images of Admiral Sheffield and Kwai Tone Ze clear and sharp and connected to other, still vibrant areas of Del’s mind. Four other men also played roles in the drama that ran in fits and starts in Del’s mind, but the details of their faces and personalities had faded in his memory.
The plot to escape on a shuttle bringing party girls to service the camp’s senior staff had been elaborate and intricately timed. Gabriel could understand only the gist of it as he watched the planning in Del’s mind. But he latched onto one salient fact.
--You intended to destroy the incubator? He went back over a conversation between Del and Kwai that outlined the plan, the images of the group gathered around a bunk assembling the explosive device.
--We wanted to blow that thing to Hell! But . . . Pain again, this time muted, distant. Del began to shake.
Gabriel sent calm and reassurance along their bond. Easy, Del. Take it slow. Step by step. You, Shef and Kwai took on the task of destroying the chamber and everything in it. Go over how you did it so I can see.
Suddenly the images in Del’s mind were sharp, three-dimensional, humming with emotional energy. Gabriel felt the anticipation, the adrenalin-fueled focus, the determination. The old man had finally let him all the way in, and Gabriel was there, with Del, Kwai and Shef in the underground chamber.
“Controls,” Del said. “Then here is where we should place the charge. It’s close enough to take out the incubator with it, and with any luck, the hydrothermals will go, too.”
Shef grinned as he unloaded the device they’d wrapped in a ragged shirt. “More bang for the buck! I like it.”He knelt and placed the crude collection of plasmion packets on a narrow shelf under the console. Then he set the timing device next to it.
He glanced up at Del and Kwai. “Once I hook this up and set the timer, we’ll have thirty minutes before it blows. Should be plenty of time to get in the shuttle and hit orbit.”
“Light it up.”
Shef pulled the nanoprocessors out of his pocket and attached them, first to the explosives, then to the timer. He stood, and they all turned to go.
Del’s mind was suddenly filled with blinding white light and a fearful screech, and he went rigid beneath Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel shook his head, desperate to escape the light, fighting to stand his ground against the agonized sound, the sound of a being in fear for its life. He could see nothing but the retina-searing glare. The shrieking drowned out all coherent thought. He felt only terror and the drumbeat of a single command: GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!
Gabriel retreated from Del’s mind back into his own. He opened his eyes, forcing himself to see what was there in front of him: the old man sitting in his chair, his eyes closed, his features pinched with pain; the anxious faces around him—Rafe, Charlie, Rayna, his own sweet Lana; the dog, whining in distress. He took a breath and waited for his pulse to slow.
Lana was suddenly beside him, touching his shoulder. She sent warmth and love along their bond, but she didn’t try to question him through it. He was shielding her from the things he was seeing—for her sake, as much as Del’s—and she respected his boundaries. He sent reassurance back along the bond. I’m all right.
“There’s a barrier in Del’s mind,” he explained for everyone’s benefit. “I think—” He wasn’t sure how to explain what he’d sensed within that primal scream. The intelligence. The instinctive fear of a wild creature. The power. “The day they escaped from T7, Kwai, Shef and Del tried to destroy the planet-killer. The thing fought back the only way it knew how. And either Del’s mind threw up a shield which is still in place, or the creature blocked Del’s memories of that moment as a form of self-protection.”
His audience was stunned into silence for the space of a heartbeat, then everyone started talking at once. Rafe’s angry voice carried above the others. “Are you saying he can’t remember because that thing zapped his brain?”
Gabriel shook his head. “I’m saying the knowledge we want may be suppressed by that barrier. If I can take down the block, we may free up Del’s memories about that time.”
Charlie found his gaze and held it. Gabriel could tell she understood what he was not saying. Del’s dementia was real; it wasn’t just a result of his encounter with the planet-killer. It was possible the barrier Gabriel had found was causing a kind of psychic inflammation in his mind, a
slow, spreading deterioration over the years that had stolen his faculties. But the barrier was only a contributing factor, not the original source of Del’s problems.
Gabriel saw Charlie squeeze Rafe’s hand, saw Rafe come to the same conclusion. The man’s broad shoulders slumped the smallest fraction.
“Will it harm him?” Rafe said at last. “For you to remove this . . . barrier?”
“No,” he said. At least, he hoped not. “The barrier was a form of protection that was only needed in the actual presence of the creature. Though it may still have psychic power, it long ago outlived its usefulness. Your father will feel much better once it’s gone.” That much he could be sure of.
He shifted in his seat and turned to Del once more. But just as he was about to begin, he felt Lana reach out to him. He felt the energy flow along their bond, let his power build and the shields protecting his mind thicken as he prepared to do battle with whatever held Del’s memories of that moment on T7 hostage. Then he touched Del’s arm—
--GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!
Battered by the force attacking Del, Gabriel lost himself for several precious seconds. But Lana’s thread was an anchor tethering him to reality. He held on to his focus and worked to separate himself from the mind that hosted him. Soon he stood outside Del’s point of view, a fourth presence in the frozen scene, there with Kwai, Shef and Del. He shaded his vision, so the blinding light coming from the sphere shrank to a tolerable glow. He refused to allow the painful shrieks to affect his auditory nerves. He could hear the thing’s protests, but they became the muted tantrums of a child.
Holding the thing at bay, he let the scene move forward with a gentle nudge to Del’s mind. Del was trapped in the light, bent over in agony, his hands on his ears. Kwai and Shef, dashing for the exit, stopped and turned. Kwai came back, grabbed Del by the hand and yanked him forward, out of direct reach of the creature. Then they both stumbled after Shef into the tunnel.
Not Fade Away Page 27
