Gabriel's Ghost (13 page)

I peered around Sully’s shoulder. “You’ve something to keep them from tracing you?”

His smile was warm and confident. “Don’t need it right now. The Temple has legitimate access to a number of areas that might surprise you. Surprised me when I found out.” He touched the screen, opened a data box. “Because the Taka are tied so closely with the church, no one thinks twice when we look at work schedules. Or a particular individual’s current location. The church serves as a liaison to their homeworld. If Grandfather dies, it’s Clement’s job to find Grandson, and tell him.”

“So who’s on duty at Six-Green-Three around 1100?”

“Grevarg.” He turned toward Ren. “Know him?”

“He’s saddened when Guardian Drogue returns dirtside. He doesn’t think Brother Clement can sing.”

“Will he help us?” I asked.

“I don’t think he will hinder us, or ask too many questions, if we appear to have a legitimate reason to be at Six-Green-Three.”

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“We’ll have to accept that, for now.” Sully tabbed through a few more screens. “Let’s check ops again. See if Kingswell has anything new to report.”

He touched his thumb to a data box on the lower part of the screen, brought up a filter I’d not seen before. He segued into ops smoothly. The
Meritorious
was still on schedule. Still set to berth at Six-Green-Three.

Getting into station schematics took him a little longer. Sully pulled down the attached desk chair, sat and frowned. Ren left for tea, came back with a pot and three mugs. Then left again and returned with a plate of fruitbread.

I handed Sully half a thick slice in a napkin. “Pull up the old work order from when the
Lucky Seven
came in. See what the dock malfunctions were, pick up their axis and sequence. The system might let you in as a maintenance verification, or follow-up. Then—”

“Got it, got it.” His fingers flew over the screen. Data tumbled, merged, dropped into a pattern. “Got it!”

* * *

Two hours passed quickly. I went for tea this time. Morning meditations were finished. Drogue was in the common room.

“Sister?” His round face bore signs of worry.

“Things are coming together.” I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“But in other ways they are falling apart.” He shook his head. “I was just on my way to Ren’s quarters to tell you.”

My stomach tensed. As Sully had so well pointed out, the church was tied in to the Takas, and through them, the M.O.C.. If there were questions about the
Diligent
or her supposedly illicit purpose, Drogue would hear of them, eventually.

“We’re in Sully’s quarters. You want to come back with me?”

Drogue followed, his footsteps heavy.

Sully was seated at the desk, Ren leaning over his shoulder. Both turned as we stepped inside. Drogue’s presence seemed to surprise Ren. But I knew now how he knew who was with me. Rainbows, not illegal and invasive telepathy. “Guardian. Blessings. Is there a problem?”

“An unfortunate incident. I don’t know if it will affect your plans, but it is singular. And, I fear, not unrelated to the larger issue we face. I’ve just learned of it, and I apologize for not coming immediately. But I needed a cup of tea to settle my thoughts.”

Sully stood, dark brows slanting. He motioned to the prayer bench. “Sit, please.”

Drogue’s shoulders slumped slightly under his pale robe. “One of our Takan brothers, Jalvert, has been taken into custody by station security.”

Jalvert. The name sounded familiar. Then I remembered the narrowed eyes of the Taka who’d cleared my ID card yesterday.

“Charges?” Ren asked.

“Rape. And murder.”

My mind flashed to a wooded clearing, a muddy twilight, and a large Taka guard who’d tracked me, silently, until he thought we were far enough from anyone that my screams wouldn’t be heard.

Yet, even with my experience, I knew a Taka attacking a human was rare. I’d concluded my confrontation was not only unusual, but due most likely to the mentality of the Taka recruited for

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dirtside service. Certainly the ones on station, and the ones who worked the spaceport, were cleaner, more alert, more professional.

Jalvert had none of the stench, none of the slurred speech my attacker had.

“Against one of their own?” I followed my thoughts to what I felt was a logical conclusion.

“No. This is the concern, Sister. Jalvert is charged with the rape and murder of a human female. An M.O.C. officer.”

“Stars protect us,” Ren said softly. “May her soul find peace.”

“Security has been tightened,” Drogue continued. “There’s talk of suspending Peyhar’s until more is known. I don’t know how much this will hamper what you must do. But it is clear. You must get off station as soon as possible. You must act on what we know is happening at the shipyards. Or this incident may well herald the start of something far more serious, far more bloody.”

I understood the security considerations. But I didn’t see what an isolated incident, though violent, had to do with the gen-labs or Marker. “Do you know who Jalvert’s charged with killing?”

“Delia Tran. The officer who questioned your medical records when we made station.”

“I thought Jalvert looked upset over that. Could that be why he attacked her? Was she an overbearing superior officer—”

“She was human, Chaz.” Sully stepped toward me, rested his hand lightly on my shoulder. “He attacked her because she was human and she was female. He did to her what the Empire’s doing to his people.”

“Yeah, they fucked me over, too, but—”

“This is about the gen-labs. The jukors. The Empire’s using Taka females as surrogates to breed the jukors.” There was a hardness, an anger in the obsidian eyes. “The newborn jukor literally rips the Taka female apart as it’s born.”

The horror of his words was almost beyond my comprehension.

“This is what we have to stop.” His hand tightened on my shoulder. “Or the Empire will face an enemy, a war from within far more dangerous, and bloody, than it can ever imagine. And the enemy will deserve to win.”

Chapter Nine

Takan females forced to breed against their will. Mutilated, murdered by the very creatures they gave life to. And all this under the auspices of the Imperial government.

“How long has this been going on?” I stared up at Sully, my voice sounding thin. Horror strangled my words.

“A year, perhaps a little more.” His grip loosened, his thumb moving over my shoulder in a brief caress, a small apology, perhaps for his angry grasp a moment ago. He glanced back at Ren, standing by the desk.

Ren. A Stolorth. Raised by a Takan woman he called his mother.

Ren made a small, aimless motion with one hand. “We do not have the all the facts. Only small pieces. Much may be conjecture.”

I spun on Sully, anger welling up inside me. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

He seemed to expect my reaction, was unperturbed by it. “Because we’re still trying to put the information together. I…
We
were following rumors of the gen-labs. We kept hearing stories of Takan females, taken by force. It didn’t seem related until a Taka showed us a holo of a female’s body, bloodied. And a bit of a jukor wing stuck in her chest.”

His face turned toward Ren again, as if he were worried about the effect of his words. No emotion showed in Ren’s hazed, silvered eyes but he must have seen the colors in Sully’s rainbow change. He nodded.

Sully turned back at me. “That was about a month ago. When I started searching for you.”

“You’ve been—how long were you on Moabar?” I added up days, and tried to put everything in a time line.

“Almost as long as you. Three weeks.”

“Trying to find me?”

He nodded.

“Because of this?”

“That was one reason.”

My ties to Marker, my Fleet training no doubt were others. That and my court-martial. It increased the probability I’d be a willing accomplice.

Sully’s words spun through my mind. I tried to analyze the information as I’d been taught. Details. “You said a Taka showed you a holo. Genuine? Not altered?”

“Best I could determine, genuine. I wasn’t the first to see it. It’s known in the Takan community.”

“I heard rumors weeks before Sullivan approached me,” Drogue said. It was the first time I heard him call Sully anything but Brother Sudral. “I’ve never seen this holo, nor any documentation. But things are very tense with the Taka right now. Sullivan tells me you were attacked?”

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And I’d killed my attacker. A Taka. The very beings Drogue was trying to protect. “I thought he was drunk, crazy. And he, well, he didn’t know I had a knife.”

I glanced at Ren, saw his soft smile of acceptance. “You had to defend yourself. Killing human females at random will not solve this problem.”

“And Jalvert?” I asked Drogue. “You think his attack on Tran was motivated by stories of Takan females being used to breed jukors?”

“There’ve been three other similar attacks, in the past six months,” Drogue said. Sully nodded. “Two in Dafir. One in Baris. The reports came to me through our missions. The Takas caught, and accused, all carried a small carved disk in their vests. It has symbols on it, and the symbols are linked with the slogan, ‘The circle of life breeds death.’ Jalvert had one of these.”

The circle of life breeds death. The clock on Sully’s wall glowed 0900. The
Meritorious
was due to arrive at 1100. I would take her back, completing another circle.

“What’s the mood on station now?” Sully swiveled the chair around and faced Drogue.

“The Takan community knows. Security has tried to keep the incident quiet, but not successfully. Plus, I gather it’s possible Jalvert may have spoken to others of his plans.”

“Perhaps you should check ops again.” Ren touched Sully’s arm. “Grevarg may not be scheduled at the ramp. Security might not want to risk an incident with a new stationmaster.”

“We could still gain access,” I said. It would be a little more difficult, but it could be done through the same diversion we’d planned. It was as easy to draw away a human security guard as a Takan.

“If not this ship, you must find another one.” Drogue’s expression was insistent, almost pleading. “You know the church will help in any way it can. Not openly, yet. We’d be shut down. Lose our contact with the Taka. But anything else we can do, be assured we will.”

I understood. At the moment, the Englarians were the only sane voice in this matter. Whoever was behind this breeding of jukors clearly was not.

Sully confirmed Grevarg was still on the duty roster. The
Meritorious
was still slotted to Six-Green-Three.

I touched the dagger wrapped around my wrist for reassurance, like a talisman. “We have work to do. And not much time left to do it.”

Drogue stood. “Tell me how I can help.”

I thought of all I knew about ships on liberty. Tens years worth. More than that. I’d grown up on Marker-2. “Do you have a connection with any of the pubs on station?”

“Master Penley is a friend, yes.”

“Human?”

Drogue nodded.

“We need some quiet, untraceable invitations to be issued to the officers and crew of the
Meritorious
. She’s due in around 1100, Six-Green-Three. I need as many of her crew off-ship as possible. Shouldn’t be any more than fifteen. Captain is Lew Kingswell. I need them well-fed and well-furred.”

“I will make sure word of Penley’s superior ale and hearty portions reaches the proper ears.”

I had a newfound respect for the round-faced, gentle monk. “Thank you.”

“Praise the stars.” He grasped Ren’s hand, held it, then let his other rest on Sully’s shoulder for a moment. “Blessings, blessings.” I reached out my own in a parting gesture. He clasped it tightly then stepped for the door. His footsteps, muffled by the fabric of his robe, receded softly.

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* * *

Kingswell had no love of the big wide darkness. The
Meritorious
arrived early. Her berth confirmation and clearance flashed on Sully’s deskscreen. I swiveled the chair around just as Ren dealt a new hand onto the middle of Sully’s bed.

“Put the cards away, boys. It’s time.”

There were two others in the lift when Sully, Ren and I stepped through the parting doors. Both human, one in a brown M.O.C. uniform. The other wore utilitarian gray coveralls with no ship’s patch. I figured the woman for a tech, or dockworker.

The M.O.C. officer was male, portly, his belly straining the seams of his shirt. He glanced at us, his lip curling slightly as we offered blessings of the hour. We were just a bunch of crazy people who chanted to the stars and waved incense.

The hooded robe covered our dark clothes, our weapons, and Ren’s blue hair as well. His hands he kept folded in the wide sleeves. It wasn’t a precaution he normally took on station. He was, he’d told me, an accepted oddity. A blind Stolorth Englarian monk.

But it was a precaution we needed now. No one should remember anything particular about a trio of Englarians on this particular day, or this particular hour.

It was 1205. The
Meritorious
had been in for an hour. Chaves had already been greeted by a small contingent of M.O.C. officers at the ramp, bearing, no doubt, the latest news. A rape and murder on station. On Chaves’s first day.

Welcome to Hell, Izak. Welcome to Hell.

* * *

Level Six-Green. We left behind the officer and the techie heading to different destinations. Maybe even Penley’s. There was talk of a challenge having been issued. The crew of a Chalford lugger was betting meals for all at Penley’s that the crew of an Imperial patrol ship couldn’t drink as much ale as they could.

Everyone knew that Penley’s had the best Imperial ale on station. Everyone knew that Penley’s had the best food. Real food, not from commissary panels.

Six-Green-Three. A lone Taka ambled between Berth Three’s ramp and Two’s. The laser pistol strapped to his hip was visible just below the edge of his brown vest.