Gabriel's Ghost

by Linnea Sinclair

  “Chaz stays with me. My quarters.” Sully’s voice was calm but held a tone that brooked no argument.

  A slow, knowing smile from Gregor. Oily. “Sure, Sully. You’re the boss. Whatever you say.”

  Obsidian eyes narrowed slightly. “I want to unpack some things, find that datapad we’ve been working on. Chaz and I will meet you, Ren, and Marsh,” he added with a nod to the shorter man waiting, and watching, by the comm station, “in the ready room. Get Verno to sit helm. Fifteen minutes.”

  “I don’t want to be an issue between you and Gregor.” I waited until the door to Sully’s quarters closed behind me before I spoke what was on my mind.

  Sully picked up my duffel—pilfered from a locker on the Meritorious—and hoisted it next to his on the bed. It was a wide bed, in the middle of a bedroom larger than we had on my ship. Two closet doors on my left flanked a large framed star chart. Behind us, a salon in pale grays and blues, with a long couch, two soft chairs, and a low table. Commissary panels were set behind a high counter with two padded stools. This had once been an opulent ship.

  “You’re not. You won’t be.” He opened the duffel, pulled out Kingswell’s datapad, put it on the bed as I came up behind him. He turned and placed his fingers under my chin. His eyes were dark, infinite. “Hear me well. One word. Mine. I give no quarter in that. Gregor’s opinions will change, or be silenced.”

  Gregor had no idea what such a threat might mean. But I thought I did and, even after nearly three weeks, still wasn’t comfortable with the power behind the threat. The very dark side of Gabriel Ross Sullivan. A side that made me uneasy the few times I’d seen it.

  “I can fight my own fights very well, thank you very much.” I let some arrogance resound in my words. “I just don’t want it to come to that. We have an unwritten rule in Fleet: you don’t have to like someone to work with them. That’s all I’m asking for here.”

  The fingers that held my chin folded. He brushed his knuckles slowly up my jaw. “Gregor despises Fleet and all its rules. He understands none of them, my angel. But if you wish to make your point,” he hesitated, eyes glinting, “make sure he sees this in your hand.” He raised my arm so that the Grizni bracelet was between us. “He understands this.”

  “Last option,” I told him. “Better plan is to remember we’re all on the same side here.”

  His fingers slid into mine and he pulled me against him, bringing my hand to his lips. “Taming the beast?” he asked softly.

  No. Just a ghost.

  It was a good, working ready room, well laid out, with a round table in the center meant to defuse any power struggles. Its location was just aft of the bridge, but with direct access to it. The room held the spicy smell of coffee. Marsh and Ren waited, mugs in the recessed holders in front of them. Marsh stood, offered me a cup when I came in, but I waved him away, with thanks. I got my own, and one for Sully. And knew a second statement had been made.

  Marsh was on my side, for the moment. Or rather, Marsh was acknowledging he hadn’t forgotten that Sully was in command. He’d watched the exchange between Sully and Gregor on the bridge very carefully.

  Sully put the datapad in front of him, linked it to the Karn’s system, brought up the data on a hologrid suspended over the middle of the table. Twice during these movements he glanced toward the door. Gregor was late.

  His next glance was to Ren, across the table from us. It was a casual one, but I knew what it was. Ren had been listening to Marsh explaining the data on the grid, but his slight nod was meant for Sully.

  We waited.

  Sully reached for intraship just as the door to the corridor slid open. Gregor, whistling, strolled in. “Hey, don’t start the party without me.”

  He spun one of the chairs as he strode by, then sat down on the other side of Sully, grinning.

  We started the party, played with the data taken from the Meritorious for over two hours as Sully led us through the list, integrating new information the Karn had brought—ships incoming to Marker. More manifests.

  Something was going on. Someone was building an elaborate medical facility on a ship, or using a ship to do so. That was clear from everything I saw, though nothing could definitely indicate it was a gen-lab. It could’ve just as easily been an auxiliary hospital ship, if we were at war. But we weren’t. Yet.

  I keyed all the manifest codes I knew into the Karn’s computers from memory. Even some older ones, because Thad would know them. More confirmations had been sent to Thad’s office.

  Gregor latched on to that bit of information right away. “One hell of a family, the Bergrens, wouldn’t you say? Fleet goes way back in their blood. Hard to believe you could just shrug that off.” He pointed his lightpen at me. “Course, being sent to Moabar would make anyone believe you could. Found her right quick, didn’t you, Sully? Convenient, don’t you think?”

  I already had my hand firmly on Sully’s arm. Heat pulsed, simmered. He knew I could feel it and no doubt kept it tamped down. It wasn’t aimed at me.

  Let me handle this, I wanted to tell him. But the only link he shared with me was his empathic one. His intrusion into my mind when we’d face the Loviti had never been repeated. At times like this it would be convenient to be a telepath. I squeezed his arm instead. I didn’t get to be a patrol captain by not knowing how to handle an ego, or a pissing contest.

  I took my hand away and leaned on the table. I wanted to make sure Gregor knew I spoke for myself, by myself. Sully owned the Karn, owned the allegiances of Gregor and Marsh. And the rest of his crew I’d yet to meet. But I’d always fought my own battles.

  “You’re raising valid points, Gregor. I might do the same, if I were in your position. A Fleet officer who used to burn your tail with regularity suddenly sitting on the Karn. The ghost ship no one could find, not even me.”

  I smiled, let my mixed compliment settle in. “You may well have reasons to question my motives. I’ve faced that before, no doubt will again. So let me tell you how this is going to be handled. You have a problem with me, you tell me. Up front, out in the open. And I’ll answer, up front. Out in the open. Agreed?”

  He held up both hands, a startled expression on his face. “Hey, whoa, Captain Bergren. You touchy or something? I don’t mean anything by what I say. We all know that, right?” He reached over, slapped Marsh on the shoulder. “I’m just talking, thinking out loud. I think it’s just wonderful that Fleet’s finest is here, helping us.” He gave me a wide, innocent grin.

  “I’m delighted to hear that, Gregor.” I reached as if to clasp my hands together, but touched my bracelet instead. The Grizni sprang into my outstretched hand. I folded it back around my wrist again as if nothing had happened.

  His gaze locked on it, then rose to my face.

  I nodded slightly, gave him a small half smile. “But if you ever should have any questions …” I let my words drift off. My point, in more ways than one, had been made.

  Discussion picked up again. Gregor slipped into the mode of everyone’s friend. Marsh seemed not to notice. Sully relaxed. I had the feeling it was the role Gregor normally played. Only the appearance of Captain Chaz Bergren had made him slip out of it for a moment.

  I understood why he saw me as a threat. I was a Fleet officer, trained as a pilot, a captain. But I wasn’t about to take over his position, or this ship. Logic should have told him such a move on my part would be foolish. I was outnumbered here on the Karn. There were others on board besides the five of us in the ready room; I’d heard voices and footsteps when I was in Sully’s cabin. And someone named Verno, from Gregor’s earlier comment, sat on the bridge.

  Did he think Sully would prefer my advice over his own? He had to know Sully better than I did. This was far from his first ready-room meeting, and I had no doubt Gregor was one of the advisers Sully had mentioned on Moabar.

  Clearly, Sully had ignored Gregor’s advice and gone looking for me. But so had Ren. If Gregor felt anyone was going to usurp whatever position he held wi
th Sully, it should be Ren.

  I decided to stop trying to figure out Gregor. I had no time. Gabriel Sullivan kept me more than busy in that regard.

  Assignments were made informally. My area was Marker and incoming manifests. Sully assigned Ren, Marsh, and Gregor other trails to follow. Our research would overlap, in some areas duplicate. But we’d see each other daily, if not hourly. Corrections could be made.

  Ren left, to soak. Marsh drifted out. Only Gregor remained as Sully tabbed off the hologrid and I put the coffee mugs in the small sani-rack.

  The door to the corridor slid open. A short, squat, dark-haired woman bustled in, her wide face almost split with a grin. She looked as if she could be Marsh’s older sister. Or aunt. “Sully!”

  Sully turned, stepping toward her. “Dorsie, you sexy wench. Give me a hug.”

  She was already doing so, patting him on the backside as well, I noticed. She had on dark spacer fatigues like I did and a wide overblouse. A laser pistol in a holster peeked out when she raised her arms and grabbed for Sully’s shoulders. She shook him affectionately. “You’re late. You had me worried.”

  “For a good cause, I assure you.” He reached toward me. I took his hand. “Chaz, this is Dorsie, the best goddamned ship’s cook in the Empire. Dorsie, this is Chaz. Captain Chaz Bergren. The most beautiful goddamned interfering bitch,” he winked at me, “in the universe.”

  I shook Dorsie’s hand and returned her infectious grin.

  “Yeah, I know you, Captain Bergren. Went on many a raid with Sully here, years back. Same ones as you, except on the other side.” She laughed. “Told him we just ought to start inviting you to dinner. You were there every time we turned around, anyhow.”

  “Dorsie.” Sully regarded her in mock sternness.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I blabber. Shut up, Dorsie, he says. You’re breaking my concentration. I can’t play cards when you—” She tilted her face up to him. “What d’you owe him now?”

  Sully shrugged. “Not that much, really.”

  She snorted. “Liar. I’ll go find Ren. He’ll tell me.”

  “He’s soaking,” Sully said as she turned for the door. “Probably naked.”

  Dorsie stopped, winked. “Better hurry, then. That’s a sight worth seeing. Dinner’s up in an hour,” she called over her shoulder as she strode through the doorway. “Good to meet you, Chaz.”

  I smiled at Sully as the door closed. “She’s a gem.”

  “Yeah, she’s a charmer, isn’t she?” Gregor came around the other side of the table but stopped by the door. “And just think, Chaz. There were at least a half dozen times you came close to killing her.”

  He stepped through the door quickly, disappeared into the corridor.

  I hung on to Sully’s arm as he lunged for the door. “Sully, wait! Let him go. Let him get it out of his system. That’s all it is.”

  He stopped so abruptly I stumbled against him. He was breathing hard. Heat pulsed into me from where my hand grasped his arm.

  The door, sensing us, started to open. He slapped at the override. It closed. He stared hard at the gray metal of the door. He didn’t like this, probably never had to deal with it before.

  Life as a mercenary, a pirate, was different than in the military. His leadership was clear, unequivocal, and of his own making. I knew what it was like to fight an enemy climbing the ranks from within.

  “I’m not here to win any popularity contests,” I told him. “I’m here to find out what’s going on at Marker. To stop the breeding of the jukors. As long as he has the same goal in mind, it doesn’t matter what he thinks of me.”

  His breathing slowed, but his jaw was still tense. “He’s not here to think. He’s here to fly my ship.”

  “But doesn’t he also act as one of your advisers? The ones you told me were against your going to Moabar?” I needed him to start seeing the human factors involved, the jealousies, the jockeying for position that was part of everyday life in Fleet.

  “We discussed options, risks. Just as we did now. But my say is final. Absolute. Always has been.” He shook his head. The hard, dangerous glitter in his eyes was fading. Anger was dissipating, at least for a moment. “Gregor knows you know Marker like none of us ever could.”

  “Maybe he resents that. Maybe he wanted to be the one to save the universe. Maybe, like you told me, he just hates anything to do with Fleet. You have to realize,” I continued, “that what he said is true. You and I came close to blowing each other out of the space lanes a couple of times.”

  “Never,” he said. “You may have thought so, but in actuality, never. Now Guthrie …” He stared at the door for a moment, as if he could see Philip’s face there. “I had him in my sights more than once. If I’d known he was your husband—your ex-husband,” he stressed, looking at me again, “I would have. Gladly.”

  “You might have done me a favor, then. But not in the way you think. The court would’ve had a lot harder time convicting the widow of the legendary Captain Guthrie.” That had been the basis of Philip’s offer of remarriage: the power, the reputation behind his name.

  He leaned against the doorjamb, clasped my hand in his. “Then I’d have to track you down … where? In a posh club on Baris Prime? Or the casinos in Garno? A ghost from Hell trying to seduce the young, beautiful widow.”

  I laughed. “I’d still be on the bridge of the Meritorious. The clubs and casinos were Philip’s life, not mine. And as for seduction …” I gave him a haughty look. “Is that what you were trying to do, dragging me to a monastery, ferrying me to station in an old lugger, damned near destroying my ship in a cold jump?”

  He grinned his wicked Sully grin. “That’s because I am unique, my angel. Never forget that. No one else in the universe will ever love you quite the way I do.”

  He palmed the door back to auto. “But you forgot,” he said as it opened, “the jukor. Amazing the lengths a man will go to in order to get a woman to run into his arms.”

  “I didn’t run. You pushed me.”

  “A minor point. No, this way. Ren’s cabin’s down here. I feel a run of luck coming on.”

  “Stars have mercy.”

  19

  Ren’s quarters were a smaller version of Sully’s, again reminding me this had once been a luxury yacht. There was a salon and dining area, and a separate bedroom off to the left. Like Sully’s, the bedroom had two large closets. But where Sully’s had the large star chart, Ren’s had a mirror. There were none in Sully’s cabin, I realized. But that was the only difference. The furniture, the color scheme, were identical: blues and pale grays predominated. A deck of cards sat in the middle of the square dining table, waiting.

  “One game.” Sully eased into the chair opposite Ren. “That’s all I have time for. I’ve been playing with a theory. I think I know what I’m doing wrong.”

  Ren picked up the cards, feathered them. “Losing?” he asked, his mouth twitching with a suppressed grin.

  Sully snorted. “Deal, you swindler.”

  The viewport in the dining alcove had a bench seat. I sat, bemused, glad to be away from Gregor’s presence. I’d been on board six hours. Despite Ren’s proclamation, I wasn’t sure if this had been, finally, a good day.

  One hand was dealt, played. Two. Sully lost the first but won the second. He was positively gleeful. Third hand, Sully lost. A dismissive flick of his fingers. “Lapse in concentration.”

  Fourth hand. Ren’s cabin door chimed. He tilted his head, sensing. “Enter.”

  I sat up straight as a Taka ducked through the doorway. “Ren, I wanted to—” His gravelly voice stopped abruptly as his gaze fell on Sully, then me. “Pardon. Pardon. Didn’t know. Sully-sir, glad you’re back.”

  I looked at Sully. Ren. The Taka. Sully waved him in. “Come in, Verno. Ren, you want to do the introductions? It’ll give me time to plot my next move.”

  Verno. A Taka. Suddenly I remembered where I’d heard the name before: Drogue, on Chalford’s Lucky Seven.

  “T
his is Captain Chasidah Bergren, Verno. Chasidah, this is Verno, my brother.”

  Brother Verno the brother? No. Verno. Ren’s Takan brother. Verno ambled over behind Ren’s chair, extending his hand as I stood. Takan fur was soft and coarse at the same time. His large hand enveloped mine. “Good to meet you, Captain. Blessings of the hour.”

  “Blessings,” I replied back automatically, still somewhat in shock. “Verno … I’m sorry. Ren never said he had a brother.” But he had repeatedly talked of his Takan mother, his Takan family.

  Verno’s laugh was a crackling rumble. If I’d been down in engineering, I’d be looking for a sudden fracture in the sublight thruster grid. “Little brother. Little brother the brother. This is the best joke, no?”

  “Then you are a monk?” First a Stolorth brother and now a Takan one. The Englarian church was experiencing some changes. I wondered if anyone in NonHuman Cultures knew about that.

  “Took full vows two years ago.”

  “Damned fine navigator too. The church’s gain was almost my loss,” Sully added, peering uneasily at his cards.

  Almost, because Verno was still here. “You’re not assigned to a monastery?”

  The furred face tilted in an almost exact mirror image of Ren’s. “Assigned to a mission, Captain Chasidah. Assigned to a mission.”

  A mission to right the wrongs being done to his people. I understood.

  He patted Ren’s shoulder. “I wanted to tell you Dorsie’s making srorfralak pie.”

  “A Takan vegetable pie,” Ren explained, fanning his cards on the tabletop.

  “Hell’s ass.”

  “Very delicious,” Verno added over Sully’s outburst as he stepped for the door. “Letting Ren win again? Kind of you, Sully-sir. Blessings all. Blessings. Captain?” He gave me a nod as he ducked under the open doorway.

  I sat back down on the bench seat and stared at the door as it slid closed. A Taka. A Stolorth. A human cook who packed a laser pistol under her apron and baked srorfralak pie. Sully had one hell of a crew.