Gabriel's Ghost (19 page)

“He said he can’t. Won’t.” Ren didn’t know what Sully had asked of me. Acceptance on faith. No questions. I made a small, helpless gesture with my hands. “I’m not trying to circumvent that. I’m just not sure where the boundaries are. I don’t want to do something stupid.”

“He will tell you what you need to know about Marsh, Gregor,” Ren said after a moment. “And the others, who come and go. This, I think, will not be a problem. But as to Gabriel...” Ren reached out his six-fingered hand toward me. I clasped it. Warmth flooded me. But something else. Certainty. Trust. Compassion. Courage.

He pulled his hand back, smiled. “That is all I can tell you.”

He headed down to Deck Two.

I sat in my chair, swung the command controls around and stared out at the starfield. I thought about wisdom and trust. And faith. And risks. And empaths. And about how very much I had yet to learn.

* * *

Not surprisingly, exhaustion set in after we had dinner in the small ready room. It wasn’t the best of dinners; selections were limited by a recalcitrant commissary unit. But it was sustenance, filling and reassuring.

I angled the micro screen in the middle of the round table so that it faced me, giving me current status. Everything the bridge knew was there, but in condensed, no-frills form. A P40 could run on auto-guidance, but not for very long. And not without someone, somewhere, monitoring the basics.

Sully and Ren were talking about Sheldon Blaine and the Farosians. I tuned them out. I propped my chin in my hand, watched the data, watched distance and time trickle, watched auto-

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guidance keep us on course. If anything large or small tickled long range sensors, they’d start screaming. Should something get by long range before the bridge could respond, short range would automatically bring shields to max, weapons on line. And scream louder.

Good ship, my little P40.

A warm hand on my shoulder jostled me. “You’re falling asleep, Chaz.”

“Huh?” I was face down on the table, my cheek resting on my crossed arms. I lifted my head. Blinked. Sully came into focus.

“I had an hour’s rest in the hydro,” Ren said. “I can stand watch, four, six hours if you need me to.”

I sat up. “We need to work out shifts. We need—”

“Sleep. We need some sleep.” Sully pulled me to my feet. “Let Ren take these four hours. I’ll take the next eight. We’ll work it from there.”

“It’s my ship,” I grumbled as he propelled me toward the door. “I’m responsible—”

“You’re exhausted. So am I. Ren’s the only one with half a brain left.” He turned me to the left, toward my door, hit the palmpad.

“I should shower.” But damn, the bed looked really good.

“Shower when you wake. It’ll help.”

No argument, there. I sat on the edge of the bed, undid my boots. The bed sagged next to me. Sully was doing the same.

I stood, undid my belt.

Sully stood, doing the same.

It hit me that I wasn’t going to bed alone.

My fingers hesitated. It was only a small lack of movement, a slight tension in the shoulders, a half a breath, skipped—but they hesitated.

I felt Sully’s quizzical, gentle gaze on me. Goddamned rainbows. It’s not fear, I wanted to tell him. I’m not afraid of you. But I was. I knew that. I knew he knew that.

I finished unthreading my belt, hung it on the hook on the wall. Stripped off my pants, hung them up, too. Thought about faith, about risks. About all that Ren could tell me about Gabriel.

I pulled my shirt over my head, realized I didn’t have anything to sleep in other than the thin T-shirt and underpants I had on now. And that the closets were probably full of Kingswell’s things. I wasn’t ready to touch them yet. Nor go searching for Tessa’s.

Hell. I turned around. Sully stood by the bed, shirtless, bootless, his pants unzipped and angled halfway down his hips.

By all I held holy, he was magnificent. His arms and chest were sculpted with muscles, his shoulders wide. His was a body I could explore for hours, or just as easily curl against, feeling safe and protected. Warmed.

His gaze caught mine again, quizzical, gentle. Reading me. His pants dropped to his ankles. He picked them up and tossed them onto the small chair. Then he held out his hand.

“It’s okay. Gabriel just wants to hold Chasidah.”

I took his hand.

Warmth.

* * *

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When I woke, it was 0820. Sully was gone, the bed empty. But the rumpled covers and dented pillow told me I didn’t dream falling asleep in his arms. I rolled over. His clothes were absent from the hooks.

I’d slept for a little under six hours. The
Meritorious
had switched to station time when it had docked at Moabar. So the 0822 was accurate for my body as well.

The shower helped. Kingswell’s towels. Kingswell’s soap. I’d strip the cabin later, when shifts were worked out and I had my off-time allocated.

And clothes. These would go in the laundry as soon as I could scrounge something out of another cabin, from a female crewmember left behind at Penley’s. Not from a lieutenant who wouldn’t remember a woman with long auburn hair, a man with six webbed fingers, and another man, with hauntingly dark obsidian eyes.

I threaded my belt through the loops of my pants as I stood in front of my desk. Bridge status danced on the microscreen. I tapped on intraship. “Captain’s heading for the bridge.”

“Bring coffee,” came the reply. Sully.

Ren wasn’t there. “Soaking,” Sully said, sitting comfortably in my chair, legs crossed. He took a mouthful of coffee, closing his eyes in appreciation. And probably, I suspected, to ignore the fact that I stood next to him, waiting for him to vacate my chair.

“How long have you been up?”

“About two hours.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Feels rather nice sitting in the captain’s chair.”

I gave up on dislodging him and sat at engineering, sipped my coffee. We worked on shift schedules. He argued against two twelves. “This isn’t the damn Fleet.”

We settled for eight on—six on the bridge, two on standby—four off for Sully and myself. Ren would work his schedule to overlap ours, but no more than four on the bridge by himself. There still could be bogies out there, searching for a ghost ship.

In jump it would change. In jump there were no bogies. We were all ghosts. But jump was five days away.

I stayed up for another few hours, tinkering. I coaxed the commissary panels to remember they could make fruit. I also found that the ship had had two other female crewmembers besides Tessa. I pilfered some clothes. I was looking for shirts for Sully and Ren when Sully found me.

“It’s past your bedtime.”

I shoved three shirts into his arms. All were plain, scoop-necked, long-sleeved. Two were dark blue, one dark gray. “These look like your size. Maybe Ren’s, too.” Ren was about four inches taller than Sully, but they were both equally broad-shouldered.

“Bedtime.”

“I’m really not tired—”

“You will be if you don’t reset your body clock. You go on duty at 1800.” He tucked the shirts under one arm, wrapped the other around my shoulders. “I’ll read you a bedtime story.”

Ren was in the corridor. Sully handed him the shirts. “Chaz’s been shopping. Keep what fits. I’ll take what’s left. I’ll be back on the bridge shortly,” he added, guiding me into my cabin.

Our cabin.

I pulled off my boots, stripped down. Washed my face, unbraided my hair. I’d slept with it braided last night and when I woke, my scalp had hurt, as usual.

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I grabbed my pilfered comb and ran it through my hair as I padded back to the bed. Sully sat on the edge, fluffing pillows.

He turned, stopped fluffing. “Stars have mercy,” he said softly.

He pulled me to the bed and took over my grooming. I closed my eyes. Fingers and comb laced through my hair, down my arms, my back. “This could become an obsession.”

I reminded him he already had a job. And that he was on duty.

He pushed my hair to one side, planted a light kiss on my collarbone. “Get under the covers.”

I did. They were cool, pillow nicely fluffed. I lay my hand on his arm. “Sully—”

“Hush, Chasidah.” He touched his fingers to my lips. “Close your eyes.”

I was about to protest I wasn’t sleepy when I felt his fingers on my forehead, then my eyelids, then my mouth again. A soft breeze ruffled over me—

—and my eyes opened. 1605. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep that quickly. Or that I’d slept for that long. I wasn’t muzzy from it. I knew my body clock hadn’t reset yet, but I felt fine.

I splashed more water on my face then pulled on someone else’s clothes. I bound my hair back loosely with a ribbon. “Captain’s heading for the bridge.”

“Hell’s ass. There goes our card game.” Sully’s lackadaisical drawl made me smile.

They were sitting on the floor of the bridge, to the right of the captain’s chair, playing cards. At least I didn’t have to fight for possession of the chair.

I leaned on the armrest and watched the game over Sully’s shoulder. “Who’s winning? No. Delete that. How much does he owe you now, Ren?”

“One million, seven hundred and sixteen thousand, four hundred and five.”

“That’s all?” I teased. “You’re slipping.”

Sully pointed at Ren. “Thieving chiseler. Swindler.”

I chuckled. “Status?”

“He cheats. That’s status. It’s always been status.”

“I don’t think that’s what she’s asking you, Sully.”

“Well she should be. Your lack of integrity is appalling.”

I held up one hand. “Gentlemen, I need status.”

Sully picked up the stack of cards, arced them into his hand, feathered them back down. “On course, all systems stable. No bogies. No transmits from politically wary admirals.” He shuffled the cards again with a skill even the best casino dealer on Garno would envy. Then he angled around to face me, fanning the deck in his hands and held it up to me. “Pick three. No, four. No, wait. What’s your favorite number?”

“Five.”

“Perfect. Pick five. Ah! Don’t look at them yet. Just hold them. Between your palms, that’s right.”

I pursed my lips together to keep from laughing.

“Good. What’s you favorite card?”

“Favorite card? You mean, suit?” I’d seen tricks like this in spaceport pubs, though never with five cards. Two at most and I’d end up holding two gold-novas, high-nebulas, moon-drops or heart-stars.

“No, card. Favorite card.”

I raised one eyebrow. There were no five cards alike in a deck.

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He was grinning his wicked Sully-grin.
Hell’s ass. “Angel of heart-stars.”
“Fitting. Very fitting. Be a good girl, Chasidah, open your hands and look at the cards.”
I fanned them out in my hand. Five angel of heart-stars. Five familiar images of slender

women, clearly angels because of the halos topping their cascading hair. All identical. He stood, brushed his hands against his pants. “Tea, anyone?” “Please,” Ren said. I was still staring at the cards, my mouth open. “You’d best get Chasidah some too,” Ren called as Sully strode through the door. “How’d he do that?” “Offer to get tea?” There was the hint of a smile on Ren’s lips. He knew I was surprised by

something. But unless he touched the cards, he wouldn’t know what. “Five heart-stars. I’m holding five angel of heart-stars. There aren’t five angel of heart-stars

in one whole deck!” Damn, he was good. I didn’t even see him switch decks. “Gabriel’s playing tricks again, is he?” “Damn good tricks. This could get you more than a few beers on liberty.” I closed the cards

and shook my head, laughing to myself. Ren rose, scooping up the remaining deck where Sully had left it on the floor. I shuffled the ones in my hand, absently, feeling their raised symbols. Then I stopped

shuffling and turned them over. Five angels. I felt the raised symbols again. This wasn’t a trick deck. It was the same deck Sully— Gabriel, Ren had said. Gabriel’s playing tricks. I handed the five cards back to Ren. He patted me on the shoulder, gently. Warmth.

Chapter Fourteen

“Lose this hand and you owe me two million credits, my friend.” Ren arched his left eyebrow slightly.

We were an hour from the jumpgate that would take us through most of Dafir and almost to the Calth system. Another four, five days after that and we’d be near the intercept coordinates for the
Boru Karn
. Six days of long shift duty had brought us to this point, safely, though from Sully’s viewpoint, not inexpensively.

He stared coolly at Ren, dark eyes narrowed, a hint of a smile on his lips. The quintessential gambler, lounging on the decking, one elbow on a raised knee. I could see both their expressions from my chair, as Sully no longer sat with his back to me when they played. Didn’t want me to send signals to Ren about the cards in his hand, he said.

I gave a low whistle. “Two million. What are you going to do now?”

He fanned the cards shut, held them, fanned them open again, never taking his eyes off Ren. “Double or nothing.”

“Sully....” Ren was clearly giving him a chance to rethink his statement.

“You heard me, Ackravaro. Double or nothing.”

Ren stroked his cards. “Agreed. Double or nothing.”

“You’re witness to this, Chaz.”

“I’m witness to this, Sully.”

There would be no tricks with these cards. After six days, in the a few hours I spent with him between shifts, I was beginning to be able to tell Sully from Gabriel. Or rather, I was beginning to be able to tell when Sully was Sully, and when Sully was feeling like Gabriel.

Gabriel never called me Chaz.

Gabriel said ‘hush,’ touched my eyes and pleasant warmth moved through me until sleep claimed me.

He’d touched other eyes as well. Kingswell and Tessa hadn’t met Sully. They’d met Gabriel. A Gabriel, I was beginning to believe, far more gentle than I would’ve suspected. Far more concerned about what had to be done to Kingswell, to Tessa.

I worried a little less about them now.

Sully looked at Ren, a triumphant smile on his face. He laid his cards on the deck, one by one, calling them out as he did so. All gold-novas. Sequential. Seven through Angel. A good hand. A damn good hand.