Gabriel's Ghost

by Linnea Sinclair

  Of course, he may have done just that and forgotten the jacket, left it behind in his haste. I could get up out of bed, rummage through his closet and the drawers. I could collect my data, find my answer.

  But the answer I sought wouldn’t be found in his closet. I knew that.

  So I lay there and stared at his jacket until my eyelids felt too heavy to stay open.

  I woke an hour before I was to start my shift. The spicy, pungent aroma of coffee greeted me. A hot mug was on my bedside table. Other than that, the cabin was empty.

  Someone had brought me coffee. I didn’t know if it had been Sully or Ren until I picked up the mug. An angel of heart-stars card was propped up behind it.

  He should’ve been off duty a few hours ago. But the coffee was hot. Maybe he’d moved his things to another cabin while I slept.

  My hand hovered over the latch to his closet, then pulled back. I turned and padded to the shower. Some things I could wait to learn. And some things, I realized, maybe I didn’t want to know.

  The coffee was still warm when I came out. I gulped it down and, in between gulps, pulled on clean clothes.

  “Captain’s heading for the bridge.” I waited, wanting to hear that typical Sully rejoinder, Hell’s ass. There goes our card game.

  But all I heard was Ren’s soft: “Acknowledged.”

  It wasn’t the same.

  Sully accepted my thanks for the coffee with a soft, gentle gaze and a slight shrug. I didn’t mention the card.

  He didn’t bring up our argument. But he and Ren had been playing cards. He only stayed on the bridge long enough to lose another two thousand credits, then left. He was keeping his distance from me. I didn’t know if it was because he thought that was what I wanted, or if it was because that was what he wanted.

  I didn’t know why he’d left the heart-stars card. Maybe I should’ve mentioned it. Maybe I should be putting different colors into my rainbow.

  Maybe, if I got up the courage, I’d ask Ren.

  We were about two shifts from meetpoint. I went back to working the data but found nothing new. Ren went over it as well. We played with some theories about the confirmations sent to Thad’s office, but Ren didn’t have Sully’s knowledge of Marker. He did, however, have some knowledge of Sully.

  “He’s stopped reading you. He’s afraid to know what you feel.”

  I leaned wearily on the armrest. “He should have told me he’s a telepath.”

  “He’s been trying to. It’s not easy for him.”

  I knew he’d been showing me things in small ways. I thought of how he’d echoed my thoughts when we were on Moabar, his comment about boot camp, his taunt about sibling rivalry with Thad. His ability to know when I was thinking of that night in Port Chalo. But there were other times when he’d seemed unaware of what I was thinking at all. Selectivity, Ren had told me in his quarters on Moabar Station.

  “Peeking,” I said to Ren. “He’s been peeking into my thoughts off and on.”

  “And mine, as long as I’ve known him. But it’s not something I fear as you do.”

  I’d picked up on the way Ren gave answers before Sully voiced questions. I’d ignored that, or rather, didn’t want to face what that might mean. It didn’t fit easily into one of my databoxes. “I’m not afraid—”

  His slight tilt of his head stopped me. Empath. Who could sense emotions but not their reasons.

  “Okay. I have fears. But I’m not afraid of him. I don’t view him as some sort of soul-stealing demon.” Like the hideous creature in the painting in Drogue’s monastery.

  “Then what are your fears, Chasidah?”

  “Mistakes I can make—that I’ve already made—because I can’t ask questions, find out what he’s thinking, feeling. That’s the advantage he has with me that I don’t with him.” That’s how he knew I was attracted to him, wanted to comfort him after we’d learned Captain Milo had been killed. That’s how he knew when I was ready to make love to him the first time. “All I can do is guess. He ought to try it sometime. Feel what it’s like to be unsure of why someone’s with you.”

  “He knows that now. He’s stopped reading your resonances since the incident with the Morgan Loviti. He’s cut himself off from that part of himself, as much as he can. I’ve told him I don’t agree. But he said that’s the only way you won’t be afraid of him. But it’s also teaching him, I think, what uncertainty feels like.” Ren flipped off his straps. “Just don’t make it too harsh a lesson for him, Chasidah. Because he learned, long ago, what it feels like to be hurt.”

  Ren went off duty with a promise to come back before my shift ended.

  Then it was just me and my ship and the starfield in front of me. No more bogies. Thank you, Philip. I picked up the usual traffic in the freighter lanes on the scanners, ran the usual systems checks. And I wondered what Thad was doing watching certain incomings at Marker. That was a grunt’s job. Not second in command in the shipyards.

  I wondered what Thad would say if he knew I was sleeping with a mind-fucker, human variety. Yet another disgrace Chaz has brought to the Bergren name, probably.

  Marrying Philip was the only correct decision I’d ever made, according to Thad. Divorcing Philip was proof that I was just like my mother. She’d divorced my father when I was two. Thad was four. The court split us. Lars got Thad, put him into a crèche on Baris Seven. Amaris got me, put me in a playpen in the corner of her office on Marker.

  Amaris was career Fleet but had always been nontraditional. She would’ve liked Ren. She definitely would’ve liked Sully. She wasn’t a woman who scared easily.

  I hoped Philip and Thad were right. I hoped I was just like my mother.

  Intraship trilled. Ren’s voice. “I am heading for the bridge. Can I bring you tea, coffee?”

  “You’re early. I have two hours to go yet.”

  “I’m awake. Tired of soaking. And I enjoy doing my meditations on the quiet of the bridge, where I can feel the stars.”

  “All right, I know when I’m not wanted. Come take watch. And thanks, but no. No tea or coffee. I had dinner an hour ago.”

  Ren and a mug of tea arrived a few minutes later. I vacated my chair and watched as he settled in it. That was something else that would make Thad’s lip curl. A Stolorth raised by Takas in the command sling of an Imperial P40.

  Ren set his tea down, angled his head, reading me. “You are more peaceful, happier now, Chasidah.”

  My rainbows were improving. “I was just thinking about how much you don’t remind me of my brother.”

  “I would imagine I’m very different from Thaddeus.”

  “Praise the stars for that, Ren.” I patted his shoulder, let my hand rest long enough to absorb a much-needed warmth, and left the bridge.

  My cabin was empty, the lights dimmed as I’d left them. The bed was neatly made, quite possibly just as I’d left it. I didn’t know if Sully had been in, napped, or moved out altogether. I was about to open his closet, find an answer maybe it was time I faced, when I noticed the message light flashing on my deskscreen.

  I sat and fingered a new angel of heart-stars card propped against it while I read.

  Chasidah. Angel. I have lost those words that used to come so easily to me. They have all fled, shamed to be in my company. I’m left now with only a few simple ones. They are inadequate. They cannot begin to convey all that I feel. But they are all I have.

  Chasidah. Angel. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

  Chasidah. Angel. The grievous wrong isn’t as much in the questions you couldn’t ask, but in the only real truth that I could tell, and did not.

  Chasidah. Angel. I love you beyond all measure. That is the only real truth.

  I stared at the screen, elbows on my desk, my hands cupped over my mouth.

  He was right. He’d never told me he loved me. In the past two weeks he’d told me I was wicked, I was beautiful, I was wild, I was delightful. I was his obsession, his fantasy, his best interfering bitch.

 
His angel.

  He’d caressed me, coddled me, and held me. He’d made me warm, hot, crazy, passionate, and delirious. He’d made me feel safe, respected, honored.

  He made me his lover. He made me his friend.

  And he’d tried to tell me, if only I’d been listening, that he was more than an empath. But I didn’t want to know.

  Just as Philip knew, when he married me, I was career Fleet. He knew I abhorred the crèches. But he’d rejected that when it became inconvenient. Rejected me, hurt me.

  Sully hadn’t hurt me. He’d shared his anger and pain and fear with me in a fashion far more intimate than I was used to. Perhaps even inappropriately. But he hadn’t hurt me, hadn’t stripped my mind, altered it.

  I didn’t know if he could have done anything that heinous. He was human, not Stolorth, not a hideous soul-stealing demon with the mythical power of “unholy light.” But I suspected he could have taken command of the Meritorious away from me before I opened the vidlink to Philip. With a touch. With a thought. I’d heard stories of things like that happening during the war. But he hadn’t. Angry and afraid, he’d waited, trusting that I’d do nothing to hurt him.

  I sat and thought about that. I picked up the card again.

  A dangerous man, Gabriel Ross Sullivan. An undeniably handsome bastard. But I couldn’t imagine life without that wicked, wicked Sully grin. Risks and all.

  I found him in the small ready room, sitting in semidarkness. A mug of tea was in front of him, still full, but no steam rose. No fragrance wafted in the air.

  I moved the mug when I sat on the edge of the table. It was cold. So was his hand when he took mine. No warmth, not even a flutter danced up my arm. It was as if everything that Gabriel Sullivan was was gone.

  Except for the dark, haunted look in his eyes. Which was something we had to discuss, something I had to face, before we could go any further.

  “You’re a telepath. Like a Ragkiril.”

  “Yes.”

  “This is what you didn’t want me to know.”

  He nodded. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  “Then you should’ve told me, not just gone ripping apart my memories—”

  “I lost control. That’s never happened to me before.” His voice was rough. His shoulders hunched tiredly. “At least, not in a very long time. But I was … reading such anger, such fear in you. I knew there wasn’t time for questions. I reacted stupidly. Didn’t even realize what I’d done until I was there. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’ve apologized. I accept that.”

  He sat up a little straighter, hopeful. His fingers curled more tightly into mine.

  “I also think you could’ve done more than just view my mental scrapbook. But you didn’t. I appreciate your trust in me, that I had a workable plan. Even if it made you angry.”

  “I was angry because I found out Guthrie was your husband. That you loved him. I thought then that you wanted to go with him, on the Loviti. I never knew you were divorced until you told me later.” His mouth tightened. “I’m still not sure the divorce was something you wanted.”

  “I wanted Philip’s options less.” I offered my other hand, squeezed his fingers reassuringly. No way to send warm tingles now. “Remember Port Chalo?”

  A small smile played across his mouth, then faded. “I waited for you to come back. I scared you away then too.”

  “I scared me away. The transmit waiting for me back on board was the finalization of my divorce. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to go back to that bar and have you kiss me senseless. But I also didn’t want to wake in the morning and find out I’d been just another drunken fling. I couldn’t have faced that. Or myself. Or you.”

  “I wasn’t drunk. You should’ve come back.”

  I slid to my feet, tugged on his hands. “I’m here now.”

  He drew me against him as he stood. “I’d still like to try kissing you senseless.”

  “My cabin or yours?”

  He hesitated. “I hope mine is still yours.”

  “It is.”

  He started unbuttoning my shirt in the corridor, tossed his own on the couch as the cabin door closed behind us. I kicked off my boots and climbed into the middle of the bed.

  He pulled me down next to him. His arms closed tightly, almost desperately, around my back, over my hair that I’d unbound. I splayed my hand against his spine, my nose nuzzled in his chest. I could feel his heart pounding.

  But nothing more. Just the weight of his arms, the pressure of his mouth against my face as he brushed my cheek, my lips, my chin with gently fervent kisses.

  And I felt my own very deep ache.

  But nothing more.

  He was staying out of my mind, out of my senses. Totally. Because of my fears, and his. Because I’d ordered him to.

  A good captain knows when to rescind an order.

  I placed my lips almost against his. “Sully. It’s okay. I love you too.”

  There was a small intake of breath, then a question as he let the breath out again. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Warmth cascaded, surging. Warmth, cresting into heat. Warmth, cleansing, curing, healing. Melting pain, melting aches. Spreading, flowing, gentling, caressing, lifting, cradling. Needing.

  Kneading. Stroking, skin, lips, fingers. Touch.

  Clothes. Come. Off.

  Heat, skin slicking, soft, hard, wanting, giving, claiming.

  Ecstasy.

  Warmth. Surrounding. Cradling. Gentling. Holding.

  Hands clasping.

  Mine. Mine.

  Love.

  18

  She had been built for opulence. Sully had stripped her and outfitted her for war, for speed. For stealth.

  The Boru Karn hailed us ten hours into meetpoint. She slipped past my long-range, then tickled my short-range sensors only because, I knew, she was convinced she was safe. She sent a four-person tender out to pick up Ren and our meager belongings first. Sully and I secured the Meritorious, prepped her for tow.

  An Imperial P40, towed by a luxury yacht. Unthinkable. Sully laughed at my silent bristling, tugging at my braid. “Snob,” he challenged as we waited in the loading bay for the tender to return.

  I turned, retort ready. He sucked it out of my mouth with a long kiss.

  The bay sealed behind the tender, force-field lights dancing in a bright blue circle. Our boots echoed on the hard floor as we strode out to meet it. The airlock uncycled, slid sideways. The small ship had no ramp, just a short step folding down. A man waited in the airlock, arms crossed over his chest, a clear expression of curiosity on his face, which was the same color as Brother Clement’s. The color of deep Imperial ale.

  I knew the face. Marsh Ganton. About my age, maybe younger, maybe older. It was hard to tell with a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times and a scar that raked across his left eyebrow. His dark curly hair was clipped short. The arms crossing his chest were decidedly muscular. He offered his hand and I shook it as I mounted the stair.

  “Captain Bergren.”

  “Hello, Marsh.”

  He nodded to Sully, and I was surprised to see how much shorter Marsh was. He’d looked bigger on the Meritorious’s viewscreen, probably because of his build.

  “We’re set,” Sully said, resting one hand on Marsh’s shoulder. The other held my elbow. “Strap in, Chazzy-girl.”

  It was a short trip back to the Karn, who waited, undoubtedly, with her weapons hot, sensors at max. She wasn’t a ship to take chances.

  She was already moving, sublights thrumming, when we exited into the tender bay. There was a loud hum, then a slight jolt. I recognized it as the tow field, locking on to my P40.

  Unthinkable two years ago.

  Salvation now.

  Ren met us just aft of the bridge, visibly relaxed. His mouth curved into an easy grin. “This is finally a good day.”

  Sully arched an eyebrow. “Thought we’d never make it, did y
ou?”

  “I had some small concerns from time to time.”

  “Salved your worries with my losses, however.”

  “That helped.”

  God, how much did Sully owe him now? I’d lost count. But I knew Ren hadn’t.

  The sublights steadied. Marsh stepped by me and shot me a quick glance. “They’re still playing cards?”

  “Incessantly.”

  His gaze switched from Sully to Ren and back to me.

  “Don’t ask,” I told him. “Last I remember it was over four million.”

  “Four million, seven thousand, five hundred twenty-five,” Ren said. “Not that I am keeping track.”

  Sully hustled me forward. “To the bridge, please. To the bridge.”

  The Karn’s bridge was set up just like the Meritorious’s. Captain’s command sling and helm were in the center. Communications on the left, weapons, engineering on the right. My brief perusal took in the familiar configurations, technical superiority. And another face I recognized.

  Gregor.

  I didn’t know his last name. Fleet intelligence could never come up with one. But I remembered the face, the lanky form. Sully’s pilot, always in the shadows, waiting for Sully’s orders. He vacated the captain’s chair as we came up behind him and greeted Sully with a brisk handshake, a nod. “About time, you son of a bitch.”

  “We ran into a few delays.” Sully clasped Gregor’s shoulder. They were almost of equal height. But Gregor was at least ten years older, wiry. His hair and eyes were a light muddy brown.

  “Hope you fucked ’em good,” Gregor said. His gaze fell on me as Sully withdrew his hand. “Well, well. Chaz Bergren. Pride of the Sixth Fleet.” He said it with a smile. A cold smile.

  “Gregor.” I offered my hand, pretended I didn’t see the hardness in his eyes. His resistance to my presence wasn’t unexpected. But I had no intention of acknowledging it. I could conduct myself like an officer, even if he couldn’t.

  He shook it quickly, released it. “Looks like we did what we came here to do. So far.” Another narrow-eyed glance focused briefly on me. Then he turned back to Sully. “Want me to get Verno up on the bridge? Marsh can show Bergren her quarters. Then you and I—”