“Damn it all!”
“Tomorrow’s always another game, Sully. Shall we escort Chasidah to dinner?”
Sully held out his hand to me. “That must be my problem. Lack of adequate nutrition.”
I took his hand, felt him slip something into my palm. I pulled my fingers away as we followed Ren through the doorway.
A card. Angel of heart-stars. Grinning, I tucked it into my pants pocket.
We were two days into transit to the Baris–Calth border when the lights in the ready room flickered, died, and came on again, at half power. I shoved myself to my feet, quickly, Sully rising beside me. An alarm whooped discordantly in the corridor. He bolted through the doorway connecting the ready room to the bridge. I was right on his heels.
“Verno!”
The Taka sat on duty in the command sling, long fingers working the console rapidly. “Main-computer failure, Sully-sir. Auxiliary generators online. Tow’s holding. Shields down—”
“Shit!” Sully lunged for the engineering station, brought up his screens. Raked his straps over his chest.
“—power’s out to weapons, long-range. Enviro secure. Engines dropping at one-quarter sublight.”
I took the helm in front of Verno, strapped in, verified course heading, speed. Automatically put manual on standby, in case we lost autoguidance. Which only kept us going where we were going. It didn’t do one damned thing to help us get there safely. Without scanners, weapons, shields, we were as vulnerable as a newborn birdling fallen unseen from the nest.
And as blind.
I heard boot steps thumping in the corridor behind the bridge.
“What the fuck’s going on?”
Gregor.
“Systems cascade failure,” Sully barked back. “I see it but I can’t halt it yet.”
Hands grabbed my shoulder, roughly. I jerked backward.
“Move, Bergren!”
I flicked off my straps and vacated the seat, but only because we were in trouble, big trouble.
Gregor slid in, swearing, hands moving over the screens. “Helm secure,” he announced.
I’d secured the helm before he got there. I let it go, slid into the seat next to Sully, strapped in again. Damn. Primaries were collapsing, function codes unraveling. Sully was half a breath behind the decline, throwing everything to manual. I took the verifications away from him smoothly at his nod and freed him up to continue the chase. I’d do the cleanup recoding behind him.
Behind me, Verno and Gregor switched places. Gregor was first pilot. He belonged in the command sling. Belatedly I realized he should have headed there when he came on the bridge. But he’d headed for helm, probably because that’s where I’d been.
More footsteps thudded, then Ren’s soft voice came from the comm station behind me. He had his headset on and worked intraship, coordinating with Dorsie and Marsh. And a man named Aubry I’d met only briefly, a mainteance tech who worked the shift opposite Sully’s and mine.
Everyone was awake. Everyone was at a station, a console, doing something.
And the Boru Karn, defenseless, streaked through the big wide darkness.
Everything was out there. Fleet cruisers, patrol ships. Commercial freighters. Transport yachts. Barges. Beacons. We were deep in Calth between Port January, Starport 10, and the Walker Colonies. Without sensors, without shields, we could collide with debris or an Imperial destroyer. The only difference would be how quickly the hull ruptured.
“Get Dorsie on visual bogey check.” Sully was thinking the same thing I was.
“Sublights still not responding,” Gregor said.
A yellow light in front of me blinked rapidly, turned to red. “Who’s opening the shuttle bay doors?”
Sully glanced quickly at my console, then back to his. “Damn it! Systems are self-activating. Overrides aren’t holding.”
They weren’t. It was as if half the ship had no power and the other half had twice as much. I tabbed to another screen. “We’ve got power spikes in the secondary grid.”
“Rekeying damper fields,” Sully said. “Stand by.”
I heard Gregor grunt out an acknowledgment, then, “Tractor field’s engaged!”
Shit! The Meritorious. No longer held at a safe, static distance but being yanked toward us, reeled in by a tow field turned tractor. A Lancer-Class P40 coming hard, right up our tail.
“Override and disengage!” Sully ordered.
“Keying manual override, Sully-sir! Attempting to disengage.”
Attempting wasn’t going to do it. We needed that field link broken now. And we needed engines, fast.
“Evasive action!” Sully opened intraship. “Aubry, get me those sublights—move us!” The Boru Karn heeled to starboard, slowly. I could hear, feel aux thrusters misfiring.
“Ten minutes to impact, closing.” Gregor’s voice was terse.
Sublights shimmied, grabbed for power the auxes couldn’t feed them in time.
“Eight minutes.”
We were still in her path. At least, most of us, as Sully had once taunted me. But most of us would be plenty enough for a hull breach on impact.
“Seven minutes. Closing.”
We couldn’t even fire lasers, shove her off course, push her away from us. My sweet little P40.
But I could destroy her.
I half-swiveled. “Ren! I need a hot trans link to the Meritorious, now!”
I caught Sully’s desperate glance as I turned back. “Autodestruct. I can remotely activate her autodestruct.”
“Do it.” No hesitation.
I picked up the link from Ren on my screen and opened a transmit line. At the same time, I talked to Sully. “Shields. Forget sublights. We’re going to need shields.”
A P40 under autodestruct just might take us with her. But she was going to ram us, either way.
“Working on it.”
“Working on it too, Sully-sir,” Verno echoed. Only Gregor was quiet.
I worked on it, woke up my ship’s slumbering systems, thrown into hibernation for tow. But a Fleet ship never truly slumbered. Even though the Boundary Wars had ended years ago, all Fleet vessels carried the same fail-safes. If boarded, abandon ship to the pods. Then blow the invaders out of the space lanes via a code-secure hot link.
My link went hot. The Meritorious answered, queried. Who are you?
I responded, fed her authorizations, verifications.
Then the link fluttered. So did overhead lights.
Sully jerked around. “Damn it, Gregor, sit on those generators!”
“Recalibrating now.”
My link fluttered back on.
Meritorious. Bergren, Chasidah. AuthCode 71995–RQ. VeriCode R1 Q5 3789 X4X4.
Verified. Acknowledged.
Initiate Autodestruct. Initiate Autodestruct. Delete reconfirmation. VeriCode R1 Q5 3789 X4X4.
“Shields?” I asked Sully. It was decision time. “A Level Two destruct is partial. A Level One, total. A Two may skew her into us. Or away from us. A One may damage us, without shields.” Or destroy us.
Words, clipped and harsh, flew back and forth between Gregor and Verno, behind me.
“Level Two. I can’t guarantee shields.” His tone was grim. His dark gaze was steady but bleak. “Brace!” he called out to the bridge.
I heard Ren repeat it on intraship.
“Wise choice,” I said softly, completing my code. Sending it. Sealing our fates.
“Chasidah. Angel.” The words hung softly in the air as warmth, a sad, sweet, aching warmth, flowed over me.
Then I was jerked, hard, against my straps, the air sucked out of my lungs.
20
Chasidah.
I stopped floating and hovered. It felt as if I were hanging, limply, in a tingly space. Gray fuzzy soft. It felt familiar. Solid. My feet touched down. Gray fuzzy soft. But solid.
Chasidah. Angel.
Sully? I heard—no, sensed—his voice. Behind me. Must turn around.
No. Stay still. Don�
�t … don’t turn.
Gray fuzzy soft. Warm.
Something touched my shoulders.
Heat. Air!
I sucked in a gulping breath, my eyes opening wide. Sucked in another. Sully grasped my shoulders, steadying me. Sully in the darkness. What happened to gray fuzzy soft? Light, red-tinged. Red-tinged.
I know this, my brain told me.
Red-tinged. Emergency lighting.
“Sully! Status.” I gasped out the words, grabbed his arm. His face was a mixture of shadows. A long dark streak cut down one side. I touched it. Wet. Sticky. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.” He knelt in front of my seat. I was still at engineering, but my straps had unhooked. “Breathe once more for me, Chaz. That’s right. Deep breath. Once more.”
I sucked in air that was bitter, stale. Let it out. “Status,” I croaked again.
“Minor hull damage, no breach. We’re in emergency shutdown, but we should be able to get things online.”
I nodded and tried to pull away from him, my thoughts now on the ship, making her secure, getting us moving.
I stood, wobbling. He was none too steady either. He leaned on the back of his chair as I turned. The bridge was quiet. Shadows were red-black. A large shadow …
I moved, heart pounding. Past Gregor, hanging loosely against his harness, but still breathing, one hand twitching. Past Verno, slumped, but still breathing. To Ren. Not at communications but crumpled against the rear bulkhead of the bridge. He wasn’t moving.
My exclamation of denial stuck in a throat closed tight with fear. I reached for Ren, but Sully’s hand on my arm held me back. He knelt down. I crouched beside him, then sprang up again. I knew what I had to find. Med-kit. Med-kit and a handbeam, somewhere. I found the panel, popped the latch, grabbed the kit. Flipped on the handbeam, crouched down again, med-kit open at my feet. I plucked out the medistat. Its screen blinked on, the unit humming softly.
Sully, beside me, ran his hands over Ren’s body. His breath rasped.
Ren’s didn’t.
I shoved the medistat toward him. “Here, use—”
“No. No.” He pushed it away. His hands framed Ren’s face, moved down to the neck and gill slits. “Fluid shock.”
Data scrolled across the screen as the medistat reset for Stolorth physiology. Fluid shock. Lungs stopped. Heart stopped. Life signs flat.
God.
I felt cold all over. The medistat slid to the floor. My mind grabbed another word from my emergency med training. Hypospray. I reached for the kit. Have to find a stim, generic. Then a hydrating solution. Get him down to sick bay, hook him up.
I found the stim, primed it. “Sully, here—”
“Hush. Chasidah, hush.” His voice was hoarse, distant. His hands still framed Ren’s face. And, inexplicably, gill slits lifted.
Then a pulse blipped across the medistat screen on the decking by my knees. Blipped again. Heartbeat. Blip. Heartbeat. Blip. Life. Where there had been no life.
I sat very, very still.
Sully put one hand on Ren’s mouth, one on his chest. Sully breathed. Ren’s chest lifted.
I moved my eyes toward Sully. Only my eyes, as I was afraid to move anything else. Something was happening—had happened. I didn’t know what it was, only that I had no means of understanding it, no nice neat databoxes where it would fit. So I watched.
His obsidian eyes were open, staring at Ren. His fingers touched Ren’s eyelids, lightly.
Ren’s eyes were silver. Open. Clear, unclouded. He looked at Sully.
Ren breathed.
Sully breathed.
I breathed and my heart pounded, hard.
The suppleness was back in Ren’s skin. His fingers twitched slightly, then relaxed. I could see his pulse, strong and regular, in his throat.
Another breath. Two. Three. Five.
Sully sat slowly back on his heels, his palms braced against his thighs. He was breathing hard, his shoulders stiff as if with pain. His obsidian gaze no longer focused on Ren, but at a distant, infinite point that existed far beyond the bulkhead before him. Then he dropped his gaze, back rounded, and seemed to stare at his hands planted against his legs. His eyes closed. His breath rasped, shuddering.
I was afraid to touch him. No. I wanted to touch him, but didn’t know if I should. I was afraid I’d do something wrong. Whatever had happened was because of Sully. If he needed to be alone, if he needed …
One hand, palm up, was held out toward me.
I grasped it. His fingers closed tightly around mine, squeezing, holding on.
Small warmth now, soft flutters. They curled up my arm, through my body.
“Breathe. Chasidah. Breathe.” A barely audible plea.
I took a deep breath, let it out. Another. He clung to my hand. The warmth traveled back and forth between us. Into me, out of me. In through me. Out through me.
Softer. Softer.
He angled his face toward me in the red-tinged darkness. Blood dripped down the side of his forehead. But there was a strength in him again. His fingers relaxed around mine. Slowly he straightened in his crouch.
My gaze darted to Ren, lying peacefully on the floor, eyes closed, chest rising and falling naturally. “He’ll be okay?” My voice wavered.
He nodded.
“You?”
Another nod.
“Sully …” I reached for him. He clasped my hands, drew me against him, surrounding me with his body as if I needed comforting, not him. He held my hands against his chest, his face against my forehead, his breathing still deep and labored.
A thousand questions raced through my mind, but now was not the time.
Something ruffled through the air, like enviro shifting to a second cycle. Then there was a loud groan behind us. A cough.
Gregor.
Sully pulled away, fumbled for the medistat, and pushed it into my hand. “Go. Keep him busy. Need a minute yet.”
I remembered my question to Ren. Who knows? Who knows about the mind talents of Gabriel Ross Sullivan? Not Gregor. Not Marsh.
I rose quickly and headed for Gregor, medistat open, keyed for human readings. It showed minor internal bruising in his chest, but that was all.
“Gregor. Sit still.” I ran the unit across his body one more time.
Muddy brown eyes met mine. “Bitch,” he said, softly. Very softly. A venomous sound.
“You’ve got some pretty good bruises there. Probably does hurt like a bitch.” I deliberately misunderstood.
I went back for the med-kit I’d left on the floor. Sully lifted Verno upright. The Taka coughed.
I handed him the medistat when I returned to Gregor’s side. As I primed another stim I thought for a moment how pleasant a double dose of trank might make my life for a while.
And kept it at just that. An amusing thought. “This’ll help.”
Gregor’s hand shot to my wrist, squeezed. “No fucking way. Not from—”
A hand came down hard against Gregor’s shoulder, shoving him back against the seat. It pinned Gregor there, fingers digging into the pilot’s collarbone while he sucked for air, his eyes wide and frantic. Gregor’s hand fluttered from my wrist, trembling, jerking spasmodically.
“I can, and will, break this.” Sully’s voice was flat, dark. Final. “Your choice.”
Gregor’s eyes blinked. Once. Twice. Sully plucked the hypospray from my fingers and shoved it against Gregor’s arm. It released its contents with a barely perceptible hiss.
Sully took his hand away as if he’d touched something loathsome.
Gregor’s eyes fluttered open, his mouth slightly slack. He stared at Sully but wouldn’t look at me.
“Don’t push your luck,” Sully told him.
Gregor closed his eyes again and let his head fall back against the padding.
Verno wobbled upright behind me, his legs still shaky. “Ren?” He peered toward the corner.
I grabbed Verno’s long arm. “Lean on me. I’ll walk you over there
.”
I felt like a child next to a giant. If he fell he’d take us both down in a furry heap, but what support I gave him seemed to be enough. He lowered himself to the floor next to Ren, then took the webbed, six-fingered hand in his large one and patted it.
Ren’s eyelids fluttered, his eyes clouded again. “Brother. Blessings.” His voice was misty rain, pattering on warm stones.
“Brother. Blessings. I feel the need to pray.”
“So do I.”
The bridge became a flurry of activity. Dorsie, Aubry, and Marsh were in better shape. Deeper in the ship, they’d been less exposed than we were on the bridge. Plus, main enviro had stayed on. Only the bridge had gone, momentarily, airless.
It was supposed to happen the other way around. Bridge enviro was supposed to be the most secure, sealing itself under red-alert conditions. Bridge enviro had its own generator. Its own filters. It was supposed to be infallible.
Supposed to be.
I stood at helm, watched as each screen came back on. They would stay on now. We ran through a final systems check. I touched databoxes, initializing systems, programs, functions. Sublights hummed at idle.
Sully was in the command sling, mirroring my movements, mirroring Verno’s at engineering. Ren was in sick bay, soaking.
Gregor was in his quarters.
“He has some things to think about,” Sully had said.
Sulk over, more likely. Or seethe.
I understood what Sully did, why he did it. Physical force was the only thing Gregor understood. Gregor’s insidious challenges to me challenged Sully. A man like Gabriel Ross Sullivan wouldn’t tolerate that for long.
He’d heard Gregor call me a bitch. What he’d felt emanating from Gregor I could only imagine. We hadn’t had time, or the privacy, to discuss it. Or to discuss what he’d done to Ren. For Ren.
Ren was dead, had been dead for several minutes when I’d flicked on the medistat. I’d been in Fleet too long not to know what the unit told me. Ren was dead.
Now Ren was alive.
Sully had touched him, breathed for him. Sully had touched him, beat his heart for him. Sully had touched him, healed him.
I had a thousand questions to add to the other thousand I already had from three weeks of Gabriel Ross Sullivan in my life. They grew like his losses in his card games with Ren. Double or nothing. I kept getting doubles. I stuffed them all into another one of my mental duro-hard containers and shoved them away, for now. There might be a time I’d want to bring them out, lay them before him. Ask.
Gabriel's Ghost Page 20
