Gabriel's Ghost (28 page)

Sabotage. Sully had just come from a private talk with Gregor. A private confrontation. I wondered, but didn’t ask, if Gregor had met Gabriel yet. Somehow I didn’t think so.

Intraship trilled on his deskcomp. He didn’t turn. I answered it. “Bergren.”

“Captain Chasidah. We’ve just crossed the border into Baris. Tell Sully-sir, if you will.”

“Acknowledged. Thanks, Verno.” I clicked it off.

He was looking at me when I turned away from the desk. “Sit.” Please was implied. I could hear it. I could also hear the tiredness in his voice.

I sat next to him and took a sip of his tea. One of us might as well.

“It’s not him,” he said.

Gregor wasn’t responsible for the near-destruction of the
Karn’
s primaries. The near destruction of the
Boru Karn
itself.

“I didn’t think so,” I told him. “The man may be annoying, but not stupid. Or suicidal.” Gregor would have died if we had.

“He wants very much for me to believe you’re responsible.”

“At least he’s consistent.” I became Gregor’s nemesis the moment I’d set my boots on the
Karn’
s decking.

“He maintains the worm, the destructive program, had to have been entered by someone on this ship.” He stared past me, past the tea I nudged back in front of him. “He asked if I checked your datapad from the
Meritorious
.”

“It’s in the ready room. Want me to—”

“It’s here. Now. I checked it.” His tone went flat.

I was suddenly aware of my heart beating a bit harder in my chest than I wanted it to. “And?”

He nodded, slowly. “I found it.”

A chill ran through me. “A worm program?”

“Traces of it. They usually don’t leave a trail, you know. But there are always residues, skews, gaps. I found those.”

Megan Sybil Baker - 138

“Who put it there?” I thought of Kingswell. It was his datapad but I’d cleared it, dumped everything except the Fleet-issue essentials we needed to know about Fleet itself, and about Marker. Could I have missed something? Something coded to create, send and replicate a worm if the pad were used without authorization? “Couldn’t have been Kingswell. The man didn’t have that kind of knowledge.”

“Gregor and I discussed that. He maintains, and correctly so, that you do.”

I sat back against my chair, sharply. Closed my eyes. For a minute I was back in the courtroom, in full dress uniform, and about to be stripped of my rank and command. I’d listened to everything, all the testimony, all the proof. And saw truth in none of it. Only lies, intricately, beautifully, professionally crafted. But I could disprove none of them.

“
Captain Bergren is the only one who had the ability to override that command.
”

Correctly so.

I opened my eyes. “I didn’t create a worm. I didn’t load it into this ship.”

“I know.” He offered me his hand. I took it, warmth cascading through me as I did. “But neither did Gregor. Neither did I. We’re the only three who’d know how.”

He squeezed my fingers, gave me a brief, troubled smile. “I keep thinking about Milo. Someone told the stripers about the
Diligent Keeper
. Leaked that information. Or sold it. Or traded it. Milo’s crew didn’t know why he was on Moabar Station. Ren and I booked passage through the church. It was all legitimate. Only Milo knew why I was there. And, like Gregor, he’s not, he wasn’t suicidal.”

I knew all this. We’d discussed it and noted the warnings. But maybe we hadn’t paid enough attention to what we saw. “Who on the
Karn
knew you were using the
Diligent
?”

“Everyone. Marsh, Gregor, Dorsie, Aubry, Verno. Milo met us at Dock Five, in the rafts.”

I knew about Dock Five. It was an abandoned mining raft converted to a way station at the A-B. Barely legal, but as long as its dockmaster regularly paid the Empire its share of the port charges, Fleet had no reason to shut it down.

“Drogue?” The round-faced monk had been nothing but helpful. But I had to ask. I was gathering data now. Facts.

Sully nodded. “He knew we came in on Milo’s ship. He knew I came to retrieve you. But I worked too closely with him. Ren did, even more so. If he were lying, setting us up, we would’ve known.” He hesitated. “Sensed something.”

Just as Sully knew that Gregor was telling the truth. And that I was. Unless…

I curled my fingers tighter through his, tried to send rainbows along with my question. Because I knew he hated these kinds of questions. “Is there anyone you couldn’t… sense? Anyone who could block the truth from you, or Ren, if you were deliberately reading them?”

I knew from my conversations with Ren that reading an emotional resonance didn’t necessarily reveal the reason behind the emotion. I didn’t know if Sully had read his crew telepathically, going into their minds the way he had mine when we faced the
Loviti
.

His gaze went back to his tea. Cold now, steam no longer rose and curled, like gray fuzzy soft.

“On this ship? No,” he said after a moment. “But elsewhere? Most are on Stol. But I, we’d know that. See the block.”

Like a ‘Do Not Enter’ sign? “But what if you didn’t see a block? What if you saw a false memory of innocence?”

Megan Sybil Baker - 139

His hand angled out toward me, fingers splayed. His expression was thoughtful. “Memories are linked. Intertwined. False ones, or lies, float. Or have very weak foundations. I don’t know how to explain this—”

“You’re doing fine.”

“Then understand that Ren might not see one, but I would. I have, many times before. There’s always the accompanying fear. Even if it’s small. It’s distinctive.”

“What if the memory weren’t false, or blocked, but erased?” Like Kingswell and Tessa.

A long sigh. “Same thing. A gap, where it shouldn’t be.”

“But what if that mind assumed the gap belonged?” I thought of Dock Five. Seedy bars, nighthouses, honeylace dens. “A conversation over a couple of beers, shots of honeylace on the side. Maybe a pipe of
rafthkra
. Or two. One hell of a hangover in the morning. One hell of a gap in the mind.”

Obsidian eyes darkened, deeply troubled.

“Sully, we’re not talking about a hauler full of synth-emeralds here. Or a smuggler’s load of
rafthkra
or Trelarian brandy. We’re talking about gen-labs. And jukors. We’re talking about something that could only be done with the backing of someone very powerful in the Empire. Someone powerful enough to keep it a secret. Prew maybe be a pompous dandy of an Emperor, but he’s not corrupt. Evil. This is evil. There’s a very real power behind it.”

“You’re saying I’m facing another
Ragkiril
.” His voice was quiet. “One who may have had access to someone on this ship.”

Ragkiril
. Another
Ragkiril
. Besides the one staring uncomfortably at me.

He’d never admitted that before. Only telepath, and then no further explanations on that.

“I imagine Stol has a few cities full of them. The Empire’s used them before.”

“You’re wrong.” He clasped his hands against his mouth. Then pressed them, briefly, against his lowered forehead. His shoulders were stiff and tense, as if a weight lay against them. He turned back to me. “
Ragkir
,” he said. “A minor distinction, and one the Empire seems unwilling to comprehend. All Stolorths, and a few humans, have empathic abilities, from the basic ability to read emotional resonances to the deeper
Ragkir
mind talents. But
Ragkiril
, well, there aren’t cities full. The Stolorths would like us to think so. The Empire obliges them by thinking so, because it helps them fuel their prejudices. But since you’re probing for facts, Chaz, I’ll hand you one. There
aren’t
cities full of
Ragkiril
. Those that I’ve met in my lifetime could fit in this cabin. Those I’ve read of, studied, could fit in this ship. And we’d all still have plenty of room.”

I sat, stunned, fascinated. And a little frightened. But not so much as to halt my questions. My need to understand him was stronger. “And this minor distinction?”

“Basically, a
Ragkir
can do a
zral
. Erase memories. Affect what a mind knows, sees. A
Ragkiril
can do not only a
zral
, but a
zragkor
. He can kill the mind and under certain conditions, kill the body. And, depending on the level of talents, he also can heal.”

Ren. Gray fuzzy soft pouring over him. Sully, breathing for him. This was my explanation. But they could also kill, he’d said. And not just the mind, but the body as well. His confirmation was chilling. I’d heard rumors of that. That was why the Empire hated
Ragkirils
, banning and damning any mind talents save for the most benign. And even known empaths were closely monitored.

“Still think it was wise to come after me?” He tried to smile, failed.

“Yes.”

He let out a breath I didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Megan Sybil Baker - 140

“Sully—”

He raised his hand. “No. I can only do so much confessing in one day. Bear with me. This is more than I ever intended for you to know. If it weren’t for what’s happened, it would still be something we wouldn’t discuss until later. Like, ten years from now.”

“Glad to know you intend to keep me around for awhile.”

Finally, he offered me a smile back. “A few lifetimes, at least.”

It would probably take me at least that long to figure him out, to finally get all the facts I needed about Gabriel Ross Sullivan. It seemed with every bit of information I learned, additional questions would surface. Like
Ragkir
and
Ragkiril
. And how the son of one of the wealthiest men in the Empire had come to learn his mind could heal, and probably, kill. There was so much I didn’t know about Sully, and what I did I realized I barely understood. I pushed my uneasiness aside. I knew he’d sense it.

“Let’s deal with the trouble in this lifetime. I think we may have made the serious mistake of underestimating the enemy. Someone told the stripers about Milo. Someone used my datapad to put a worm into your ship’s systems. Almost killed us. And someone, in case you forgot,” I added, resting my hand on his arm, letting his warmth tumble into me, “sent a jukor to try to stop us from ever reaching the monastery. Someone knows who we are, where we’ve been, what we’re doing.”

“And where we’re going,” he added quietly, his brief smile now gone. “Someone will be waiting for us at Marker.”

* * *

Sully left to talk to Ren. I imagined that the discussion, while serious, would no doubt include a few hands of cards. It was his way of dealing with tension, or maybe his way of blocking out the emotions swirling around the ship that he didn’t want to feel.

I made myself a fresh mug of tea, flipped open my datapad on the desk—my own way of dealing with tension. Sully’s admission had raised questions I wasn’t ready to dwell on. Other problems were easier.

Sully had told me where he’d found the traces of the worm program. I wanted to look at them myself, in case, as I told him, the program was a parting gift from the Imperial Fleet. Just because Kingswell couldn’t create such a program didn’t mean his crew had been equally untalented.

I felt I was better trained to recognize Fleet worms than Sully was.

But I didn’t recognize these. At least, not the small residues, aborted snips of code that were all that was left. The program not only tried to destroy the
Karn’s
systems, it had destroyed itself, eradicating its identity.

Like a
zral
. Or a
zragkor
.

No wonder Sully understood these programs so well.

Only a few
Ragkiril
, he’d said. And by oblique admission, placed himself in their ranks. One of the few human ones. And the possibility, with the situation on Marker, we would face another.

Questions, a thousand questions. Again, my mind reminded me that with every one Sully answered for me, another ten popped up.

Let’s deal with Marker, my brain said. At least there, shipping manifests leave nice, linear trails that can be plugged into grids.

Megan Sybil Baker - 141

I pulled up my work data, paged through to where I’d left off before we’d transferred to the
Karn
. I started reading, trying to pick up my train of thought. My note-mark flashed.

Right. The stuff on Crossley. I’d never transferred my personal notes to Sully’s hologrid in the ready room. We’d gone over everything that day, but not my questions on Crossley.

I opened the note, reread the data stored in there. Crossley Burke. Not the vid game people. At least, not anymore. Unless they were breeding jukors to add a touch of realism to their sims. Unprofitable. Wouldn’t get a lot of repeat customers if they were.

I was headed for Sully’s deskcomp to see what the
Karn
held on Crossley Burke when the cabin door slid open. Sully, looking more relaxed than when he left, but none too happy.

I took a wild guess. “How much?”

He hesitated only a half a second. “Oh. Four million, one hundred thousand. And change. Or so.”

“You have a lot on your mind. You can’t expect your game to improve right now.” I frankly didn’t think his game would ever improve but there are times when you have to make certain encouraging noises.

He looked positively affronted. “I am improving! I didn’t lose half as much as I normally do.”

He stripped off his laser pistol, threw it on the couch next to mine then sat, arms draped along the back of the cushions. “Still working?”

I settled into the desk chair, tabbed up the screen. “Ran across some notes I made to myself a few days ago. Forgot about them. I’m looking for a reference for anything to do with a firm, or a name, of Crossley Burke.”

“This has to do with Marker?” He stood suddenly and was at the desk in two long strides. “Marker? This has—”