Gabriel's Ghost (30 page)

“It’s nothing symbiotic. More like a rare genetic mutation. It can happen about every four or five generations in humans, though there’s no exact pattern.” He paused. “I am Gabriel. Always have been.”

“Then why do you act as if he’s someone you’re not?”

He shrugged wistfully. “It’s easier. It’s a way of dealing with what I sometimes have to do, which I don’t like. With what I’ve done. It’s a habit I started a long time ago.”

I didn’t think he was unique in feeling distanced from some aspect of himself. I didn’t know of anyone who hadn’t felt that way at some point. I gave him a small smile. “My mother always called me Chaz. Except when I did something wrong. Then it was Chasidah. Sometimes that made me feel like I was two people.”

He didn’t return the smile. “That was her naming a behavior, not something you can never change about yourself. Something you never asked for. Never wanted. Didn’t know why it happened.” His voice was harsh. “All you know is you woke up one morning and looked in the mirror, and you were terrified, because you saw—”

He stopped abruptly and stared at his clenched hands. Not at me. He hadn’t looked at me for several minutes. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Because you saw,” he continued, his voice forcibly calm, “what you are.”

I remembered Ren’s explanation of what I termed rainbows. There was nothing scary about rainbows. “Is being able to see your own resonance, these colors around your body so frightening?”

He said nothing for a very long minute. “It can be.”

Megan Sybil Baker - 147

If you weren’t expecting it, I supposed. If you were—“You were a child,” I guessed. That might very well be terrifying to see colors dancing all over your body.

He nodded.

“Then your parents knew?”

“They never found out.”

“How old were you?” I asked softly. I thought I was beginning to understand a little more about Gabriel, a child alone with a secret. And Gabriel’s need to be held.

“Twelve.”

Not that young, but at the precarious point between child and teenager. Puberty? Did puberty trigger the change from limited human mind to
Ragkiril
? “Is that usually when it—”

He shoved himself to his feet, headed for the door to the corridor. My heart plummeted. I wanted to call back all my questions, apologize, tell him it didn’t matter.

He stopped, shoulders hunched, hands jammed in his pockets. Then he turned and walked back to the couch, but sat instead on the low table in front of me. I swung my legs off the cushions. He took my hands in his. “Sorry. For a moment I was that twelve year old again, looking in the mirror.”

That explained something I’d not paid much attention to before. There were no mirrors in Sully’s cabin. Only a small one over the sink in the bathroom. Where there usually was one between closets, he’d hung an old star chart, framed.

He brought my fingers to his mouth. “Can we talk about something else?”

I smiled. “Sure. How much do you owe Ren, now?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dock Five

I hadn’t been to Dock Five in almost three years. The place hadn’t changed. Except maybe to get a little more seedy, a little more raucous, a little more peppered with divergent humans and humanoids. Freighter crew, tanker crew and barge workers all mixed in with miners in transit. There were men and women of all shapes, sizes and ages, but very few children. Just the odd pickpocket, or some rafter’s brat running loose while his parental unit slumbered, deep in hangover heaven.

Dock Five was an ugly structure, long, somewhat cylindrical. Six levels at its narrowest, ten at its widest. Gravity only worked at its core. In the outlying areas, beyond the core, it was all free-float, zero-g boots required.

Sixty bays total, thirty a side, most around the center core. That’s where the shops were, the bars, the nighthouses, the
rafthkra
dens. Tool shops, ships’ supplies hugged the outer core.

So did the
Boru Karn
. We waited an hour for the berth to clear. Center core was more heavily trafficked, making an unscheduled emergency departure more hazardous. The
Karn
was always prepared for one of those.

We were listed in Dock manifests as the
Lofty Echo
. Sully had a random list of names, words, and threw them together on a whim. This week, the
Lofty Echo
. Next month, the
Lambent
Beacon
. It didn’t matter. He had clearances and docs for them all.

We traipsed toward the core in plain spacer fatigues, myself in dark blue, Sully in his usual black. No ship patches. Weapons discreetly under jackets. My Grizni, as always, wrapped securely around my wrist.

Verno and Dorsie followed us down Blue Level 4. Dorsie had a list of supplies. She and Verno broke off as we came to Blue Corridor 6. There was a warehouse on B.C. 6 she dealt with regularly and trusted their prices. We’d meet up later in a pub on B.C. 12.

Gregor, Aubry and Ren stayed on board, but only Gregor and Ren were on duty. Gregor, because he was first pilot. Ren because there were sighted Stolorths on Dock Five. Being caught on an open dock was something he couldn’t risk.

The office for the repair techs Sully used was on B.L. 3, one level down. The lifts were crowded. We took the non-working escalator stairs. I didn’t know if they’d broken again, or hadn’t been fixed since I was last there.

“Never fixed,” Sully told me, then added a questioning glance. “This isn’t in your patrol sector. Plus, Fleet doesn’t dock here.”

“I was on vacation.”

“Here?”

“With a friend.” I gave him a bland look and tried to throw ‘it’s old business and not worth bringing up’ into my rainbow.

Megan Sybil Baker - 149

He caught it, but it didn’t stop him. “Not another husband.”

I punched his arm. “One’s more than enough, thank you.”

“A friend in the freighter business?”

“Yes. Now what’s the name of that office we’re looking for?”

He chuckled. It’d been awhile since I heard his deep, rumbling laugh. It sounded wonderful.

A young woman raised her gaze from her screen as we entered. She was pretty-faced, with bright gold hair clipped back with a colorful assortment of pins. She sat behind a low counter that divided the room. Two men in coveralls were in the other corner of the office, studying an enlarged schematic on a hologrid. They turned.

Sully raised his hand. “Pops. When you get a minute, we need to talk to you.”

The taller, bald-headed man nodded, splayed his hand in the air. “Five minutes?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll keep him busy, Pops.” The woman rounded the counter, walked toward us. She was tall and slender, with tight leggings under a thin, clingy tunic.

“Well, hello, Ross. I didn’t know you were on dock.” She glanced at me, smiled, then returned her focus to Sully. Or Ross, the name he told me he used here.

“Business is good, Ilsa?”

“Can’t complain. No, wait. Maybe I will. It’s been more than six months since you even stopped in to say hello to me.” She pouted prettily. “Doesn’t Gregor ever give you my messages?”

“He has.”

I felt Sully’s hand at the small of my back. Ilsa’s gaze flicked to the movement of his arm.

Ah. Ex-girlfriend meets current girlfriend. I didn’t enjoy these kinds of meetings. Eventually it led to the almost subliminal stare-down, the message: you’ve got him now. I’ll get him back.

Ilsa didn’t waste time. She appraised me thoroughly. I could almost hear her thinking: cute, but not beautiful. “Known Ross long?” she asked me.

“Since the wedding,” Sully put in before I could answer.

I almost choked.

Ilsa did. “Wedding?” She recovered. “You met at a wedding recently?”

“No,” I said.

“Of course not,” Sully said right after that. “Chaz and I got married recently. But I’ve known you how long, my angel?” He brushed a stray tendril of hair from my face, his dark eyes twinkling but smoky with desire. “Almost six years?”

My God, why were all the handsome ones always such bastards? But I was grinning. This was so Sully. This was so much the Sully I hadn’t seen since the problem with Kingswell. Since the problems with the
Karn
.

Six years was about right. I just couldn’t remember if it were synth-emeralds or silacksian crystals that had brought us together.

I was saved from answering by the appearance of the bald man. Ilsa’s father, I guessed, from the resemblance around the eyes and mouth.

“You’re looking well, Ross.”

“You, too, Pops.” Sully took the offered hand, then motioned to me. “This is my wife, Chaz.”

Pops exhibited none of Ilsa’s surprise. “’Bout damn time. And a lovely one you are. Chaz? Good to meet you.” His large hand enveloped mine. “You in the business?”

Megan Sybil Baker - 150

I thought of all the things I knew Sully, as Sully, had done. I wondered what business Pops thought I was in. “She’s a pilot. Damned fine one,” Sully said. “Good thing, too. We had a bit of the problem

with my ship.” Pops frowned. “Something my people worked on? I’d have a hard time believing that.” “So would I. Can we go somewhere and talk?” Ilsa managed a rather frigid ‘congratulations’ before we followed Pops to a back office, and

sat in spindly chairs permanently locked to the decking. Sully outlined the systems failure.

Pops rubbed his bald head while he listened, then brought up Sully’s repair records. “Aubry or Gregor okayed everything. Just like normal. I can’t see… Ross, I can’t understand what happened.” The news disturbed him, deeply.

But if he was lying, only Sully could tell. I knew that’s why we were here. He knew what those records showed, he’d listened to Gregor and Aubry’s recounting. But he needed to talk to, to
read
, Pops. And read the three techs who’d worked on the
Karn
.

We had coffee while Pops called them in off their current jobs on the docks. Sully spoke

briefly to them all. It was all he needed to clear them. We left without saying good-bye to Ilsa. “Trying to make me jealous?” I teased as we climbed the uneven escalator stairs. “Was I that obvious?” He paused a second. “Did it work?” “I don’t know. Depends if she and I are on the same list.” It took him a moment to place my comment. His list of confused women. The one I didn’t

want to be a part of. “There is no list,” he said as we reached the top of the stairs. He grabbed my arm, pulled me against him, kissed me. I reveled in his warmth as it fluttered invisibly over my skin. “Shit!” A burly man in mining company coveralls behind us almost knocked us down. “Go

rent a room, will ya’?” I leaned against Sully’s chest, chuckling, and let him drag me out of the way. We were back on Blue Level. Pops and his techs had read clean. Just like Gregor and Aubry.

“Who else had access to the ship?” I asked quietly as we walked past dingy storefronts, garish pubs.

“No one, officially. And if the boys were lonely, they’d go to one of the nighthouses. If they did bring a prosti back on board, they wouldn’t let her out of their sight. That much I know. Besides, I asked Gregor that question.”

“And Marsh, Aubry?”
He nodded.
“Dorsie?”
Another nod.
We stepped aside as a stout woman, her arms laden with boxes, walked unsteadily past us.
“Verno?”
“The Englarians have a small mission here. It was just before Peyhar’s, you know.”
That brought it back down to someone on board. I was the only new figure in the equation.

“Kingswell’s datapad had to have had some kind of delayed destruct program. Something I didn’t

see when I emptied it. I usually don’t miss that kind of thing. Especially when it’s Fleet.” “Unless someone put it there after you cleaned it.” I was surprised. “But you asked, you read...” I let my sentence trail off. I wasn’t about to

elaborate on his
Ragkiril
abilities in the middle of Blue Level.

Megan Sybil Baker - 151

“I did. But only resonances, looking for fear, evasiveness. I may have to ask again, more deeply this time. And I’ll need Ren there, though they’re not going to like it. I’ve never had to question my crew in any way that they were aware they were being probed, read.”

“Do they trust Ren?” I noticed Marsh’s attitude was friendly, but that Gregor and Aubry rarely talked to him. Dorsie, however, was clearly fond of Ren.

“They tolerate him. Except for Dorsie, of course, who vacillates between wanting to adopt him and wanting to mate with him. Gregor and Aubry went flying out of their chairs like you did, when I first brought Ren on board. I’m so used to having him around that I sometimes forget the effect he has on people.”

A shop door slid open and two people exited into our path. We stopped, let them pass.
“How long have you known Ren?”
“Long time. Almost twenty years.”
“You met him when he was ten?”
“Excellent math skills. And cute, too. What a wife. I’m such a lucky guy.” He gave me a

Sully-smirk. Then showed off his quick reflexes as he danced out of the way of my playful punch

to his arm. “I thought Ren lived with the Englarians. And his Takan family in the compound.” “He was.” “What were you doing there?” He glanced down at me, a half smile on his lips. “Studying to be a monk.” My God. He almost
was
Brother Sudral. “Whatever made you want to become an Englarian

monk?” “It seemed appropriate. Shall we say, I stared at a painting of the revered Abbot Eng one day,

and it spoke to me.” “And what did the painting tell you?” He stopped and gazed upward at a blinking sign. “Trouble’s Brewing. We serve only the

finest Imperial Ales.” This time my fist did connect with his arm. He laughed. “Come on. Let’s see if Dorsie left any money in my account.” The pub was crowded. “Where’s Verno?” Sully asked as we sat. Dorsie must have grabbed

one of the last available tables. Her ale arrived just as we deck-locked our chairs. We ordered a

pitcher. “That is,” Sully said as the droid server wheeled away, “if I have any money left.” “The way you play cards with Ren, you’re worried about me?” I knew Sully wasn’t. Dorsie was an excellent supplies manager and a sharp-eyed guardian of