Angels and Ministers of Grace Read online

  Jar snorted indelicately, but she was the first to join Anya. The other two followed reluctantly, but Salvatore interrupted them before they could move any of the luggage.

  "Listen up, ladies. Don't open the door to anyone but Coop and myself. We're the only two who have security override on your door. Do not contact anyone over the vids—reception can be tampered with. And if you receive any messages, let Coop or I see them first. You're not to go anywhere at all—period. If you need anything, it will be brought to you. I'll be in touch." With that he swiveled around and stepped out the door.

  The four of them stared at the closed portal for a long, stunned moment before Jarden spoke up. "So…we're in prison?"

  Cesna grimaced as she looked around, lifting one foot in dainty disgust. "More like hell."

  "But," Anya murmured slowly, "I think we might be safe." Then she looked at each of them in turn, helpless to stop the relieved grin from spreading across her face. "Finally!"

  After a moment, they began to smile back.

  Chapter 4

  Jason Salvatore had a wealth of problems, nearly countless in number, but only one occupied him at the moment. He'd left his charges in the secured area, gave the guards their orders, and swiftly tracked down Coop, who had nothing but bad news. He and a squad had swooped into the market, doing a thorough check of the occupants before spreading out in a search of the surrounding areas. Nothing. When he checked with Stevens, he'd received the same bad news. Not a single customs officer could remember anything or anyone out of place since they'd been put on alert.

  He'd almost believed that they were the butt of a very bad joke on the singer's part, except for one single piece of evidence. He'd put several people on research detail, searching the vids for any sign of the telepath and was rewarded with a shadowy figure passing just at the edge of one picture, not a foot from a customs officer. When shown the vid feed, that officer had been dumbfounded and told Jason that he'd been so certain that no one had gotten past him. Jason had reassured the stricken officer that he wouldn't be blamed—the telepath had obviously been mucking around in the poor man's head because nobody could be that blind.

  From that point, Jason had activated a station-wide search, section by section. This would take days, and he wasn't very hopeful, but it was all he could do at the moment. Tracking down the captain, he'd filled her in on all the events and the information that he had so far. Marta had taken it all in stride as usual, but he'd seen the line of concern between her brows. She'd announced that she would visit his charges first thing in the morning and see if she couldn't obtain more information on the telepath from them. Jason hadn't argued—between the two of them, she was definitely the diplomat.

  He'd spent a few hours tending to the regular needs of the station, occasionally receiving unproductive reports from the search details. Way past when his shift had ended, he'd finally dragged himself to his quarters after giving specific orders to his people to contact him if they found anything, even something trivial.

  So there he sat, surrounded by problems and ignoring all but one. Specifically, one Anya "Earth Angel" Vaedrin, the white-haired, blue-eyed singer who had been the object of his fantasies for the past two years.

  He'd been sent to Far Reach in disgrace, as far as his superiors were concerned—exiled to the furthest point of human space. To prove to himself and to them that he was not a stain on the face of the Planetary Fleet, he took on the jobs of both second in command and security chief, juggling both with credible skill. This didn't leave much time for anything else, though. His love life was virtually non-existent.

  He'd been hearing about "Angel" Vaedrin for a while, but hadn't paid much attention until out of curiosity he'd turned the vids to one of her live concerts. No one gave live concerts—why would people bother with that when they could get a holo of the entertainer projected straight into their homes? No one had background singers or live bands either. Anya's methods were so old they were new, and crowds flocked to see her. Curious, Jason had watched—and couldn't stop watching until the end.

  She was an entertainer, he'd told himself; most of it had to be an act. The hair and dark, ocean-blue eyes surrounded by silver lashes were probably fake, and the wild joy she seemed to share with the crowd had to be calculated. The voice was real, but a true entertainer needed more than an excellent voice to engage an audience. She was good at her job; that was all. She knew what the crowd wanted to see and gave it to them. So there was nothing wrong with having a healthy fantasy life about a woman who didn't really exist, he'd convinced himself.

  And then Jason had come face to face with her. His day had gone downhill from there. He'd used anger as a defense at first, trying to find his balance after that first shock of recognition, but she kept throwing surprises at him. She'd been genuinely afraid, concerned for her companions, and determined to do right by them. She also had a quiet authority that seemed completely unconscious. His anger had been repeatedly defused by a growing sense of admiration. Until she'd mocked him.

  Should I make you fall in love with me?

  She was an empath—she must have riffled through his brain, read his emotions, and known, taunting him with it. Of course, he wouldn't call his feelings love. He didn't know the woman well enough for that, but it was still a violation of his privacy and he'd been furious.

  And was still furious, though it was more of a brooding, sullen anger, and it was about more than just her mocking him. Damn the woman, he thought, why couldn't she just stay a fantasy? He glowered at a spot on the wall of his quarters, so deep in contemplation of the unfairness of it all that he probably would have stayed there all night if his stomach hadn't taken the opportunity to remind him of its emptiness.

  Grumbling almost as loudly as his stomach, Jason got up and fixed a light meal before checking in with his people for the last time that night. His charges were all tucked in, and all was well there. The search continued, still unproductive. Taking a quick shower, Jason fell into bed without much hope of sleep. He would have been surprised at how quickly he dropped off.

  He was awakened some time later by a high priority call. Disoriented, Jason picked up the communicator by his bed first before realizing that the shrill tone was coming from the vid screen across the room. That was odd, because his people would have used the communicator first. Staggering out of bed, he lurched over to the screen and stopped the incredibly annoying noise. "For god's sake, what!" he growled as the screen lit. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see Anya.

  "Salvatore!" she hissed, and even by the dimness in her quarters he could see that she was paler than usual. "He's right outside my door! The guards—"

  Galvanized by the terror on her face, he lunged for his communicator. "Threshold detail, report!"

  "Sir?" the two chimed together, their tones surprised, but otherwise normal.

  "I heard them talking to him!" Anya whispered frantically.

  "Who is with you?" Jason asked the guards, grabbing a pair of pants and trying his best to lunge into them.

  "Lieutenant Cooper, sir. He was just making sure the systems—"

  Jason cut them off. "Cooper, report!"

  There was a short pause. Then Coop answered, his voice slurred. "R'port what? M'asleep."

  "Not anymore. Get your ass out of bed and down to seven—we've got a situation." As he spoke, Jason shoved his feet in a pair of shoes and grabbed a shirt before heading toward the door at a fast clip. He did pause for a second in front of the screen to say, "I'm on my way," to Anya before leaving.

  As he dove through his quarters and out into the corridor, he growled, "Threshold detail, detain that man!"

  "You mean the lieutenant? He's already left—"

  "Perimeter detail! Detain the man leaving the safe zone—he is not Lieutenant Cooper! I repeat, he is not Cooper. Do you read?"

  "Sir, what—" But the guard never finished what she was about to say. There was a flurry of strange noises and then silence. Jason cursed and called any and
all personnel to converge on sector seven—there was an intruder who might look like Lieutenant Cooper. Then he called Coop back and told him to stay in his quarters for the moment. No use having some gung-ho private arresting his boss.

  When Jason arrived at the safe zone, there were plenty of guards milling around, but no detainees. Organizing them into a search that expanded from that area, he pulled the perimeter team aside for questioning. They both looked dazed.

  "What happened?" he asked as calmly as he could.

  "S-sir, I'm not sure," the female guard who'd tried to answer him earlier murmured. "You asked us to detain somebody, but nobody was there. Then I got shoved into the wall. Saffron here tried to grab—whatever it was… Sir, what are we protecting these women from? What is it?"

  Jason clenched his jaw grimly and didn't answer, asking instead, "Why didn't the system alarm?"

  She dropped her eyes. "I shut it off, sir."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know," she answered miserably. "I don't remember doing it, but the log says…"

  "All right. You're both dismissed for the rest of the shift. Go get some rest."

  With hangdog expressions, they left, and Jason headed toward the women's quarters, contacting Coop as he did so and giving him a terse outline of what had happened. On the way, he stopped to reprogram the system so that it couldn't be shut off manually, short of turning off the station's power. He might regret that later, but after tonight's fiasco, it seemed necessary.

  As he finished the reprogram, he noticed something that drew his brows together ominously. Grabbing the first body to walk by, he pointed at the screen with a stern finger. "Why is this vid shut off?"

  "Miss Vaedrin requested it, sir."

  "Without authorization?"

  "Lieutenant Cooper authorized it, sir."

  With a low curse, Jason let the guard go and stalked down the corridor towards the women's quarters, seething. The woman had gone too far, undercutting his authority like that!

  The door to the quarters opened even before he reached it. Anya hovered on the threshold, clutching her elbows and watching him anxiously. She was dressed in a thick robe, and her hair was in a white cloud around her shoulders. Even with the strain evident in the lines of her face she was stunning, and Jason gritted his teeth.

  "I thought I told you never to open that door!"

  "Unless it was you or Frank. I felt you coming," she whispered. "Did they get him?"

  Trying to herd her inside without actually touching her, Jason growled his frustration. "He could have left some kind of trap—do not open this door, hear me?"

  She backed up so that he could enter and close the door, but she seemed unimpressed by his anger, giving him a sharp look and a frown. "Shhh! The girls are asleep, and I'd like to keep it that way. They don't need to know that man can come right up to our door…" With a little shudder, she turned and wandered into the living room, perching on the edge of a sofa that hadn't been there earlier in the day.

  Jason edged close enough to be able to speak in a low voice, but still keep his distance. "Not anymore. The security system was set to alarm if anyone who is not registered with the station tried to approach, but he somehow got the guards to shut it off. I made sure it can't be shut off anymore."

  A fleeting, relieved smile slipped across her face, and she nodded in understanding. "But I guess you didn't get him or we wouldn't need the alarm still."

  "No, we didn't get him. My people are searching the station by sectors, but that'll take time." She nodded again briefly, but he didn't give her time to say anything. In a deceptively calm voice, he asked, "Why did you get Coop to shut off the vid feed to this room?"

  Her eyebrows lifted, and she eyed him coolly, squaring her shoulders and sitting straighter. She must have seen through his calm to the anger seething underneath. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm sleeping out here. I was uncomfortable with the idea of having someone watch me sleep."

  He hadn't noticed the pillow, blanket, and sheets on the sofa until she gestured to them. Frowning at the rumpled bedding to hide his sudden embarrassment, he crossed his arms over his chest and growled at her, "Why the hell are you sleeping out here? Those beds were big enough to fit two in each."

  "For one thing, I wanted to be closer to the door in case the telepath did just what he did tonight. I wanted to protect my friends. But also—" She dropped her eyes, staring past him into the darkened kitchen. He wasn't sure because of the dim lighting, but he thought she might be blushing. "My defenses aren't that good when I'm sleeping. I have a harder time blocking out anyone close to me and—and I tend to emit when I'm dreaming."

  The possibilities of such intimacy made him flush with heat like he was standing in a furnace. Suddenly very aware that they were alone in a dim room—what the hell was keeping Cooper, anyway?—Jason cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I see."

  "It doesn't really make for a good night's rest." Her eyes connected with his for a brief moment before skittering away again.

  It made him feel like a bumbling intruder, forcing his presence on her. He was irritated to note that he now felt guilty for yelling at her. "Well, no harm done. Coop authorized the vid removal, I hear."

  "Yes, he did. Frank's been incredibly helpful." Meeting his gaze with a directness that he found disconcerting, she smiled grimly. "As have you. I haven't thanked you yet, Lieutenant Commander, and I'm sorry for that. We appreciate all you're doing for us and are truly grateful, even though we might not always show it. It's been a long time since we've felt safe."

  "You're welcome." Edging towards the door with thoughts of escape, he continued, "We'll be right outside, doing sweeps for anything the 'path might have left behind, if you need anything. You…should try to get some rest." It was awkwardly done, but he took the out anyway, striding to the door.

  "Thank you," she murmured behind him, and he nodded without looking around, slipping out the door with a silent sigh of relief.

  Coop was just down the corridor with a small group of security personnel. He approached when he caught sight of Jason. "Hey, LC—how is she?"

  Jason gave him a sharp look. The lieutenant had no way of knowing that Anya was the only one up and about. "They are all fine." The older man flushed, and Jason suppressed a bitter grimace. So she had another conquest. Why the hell was he surprised? "Why didn't you tell me you took out the feed to their quarters?"

  "Didn't think it was worth mentioning. It was a redundant system, and I couldn't leave it when I knew it was a question of privacy." Coop gave him a searching look, but whatever he saw in Jason's face made him return to business with a straightening of his shoulders. "We've searched the entire sector except for the Hive and turned up nothing. I've got Sacarski and Abamahlad on sniffers going over this place inch by inch. So far, it doesn't look like he left anything behind."

  Frank Cooper was very good at his job, efficient and thorough. Jason should have promoted him to security chief a long time ago. Maybe after this mess was cleared up, he'd do just that.

  "Thanks, Coop. Why don't you leave 'em to it and go back to bed?"

  He got a withering glower from the lieutenant that made him grin. "Nice try, Jace, but now I'm pissed off, and I got somethin' to prove. Why don't you go back to bed?"

  It was intended to insult, but to his friend's astonishment Jason said, "I think I will." Striding away, he flashed a malicious grin over his shoulder. "Have fun! Let me know if you find anything."

  Frank called him something unpleasant, but Jason pretended not to hear. On his way back to his quarters, he wrestled with the events of the day, trying to get them to make sense. If the telepath wanted Anya so badly, why hadn't he tried to step into her quarters and take her? Why go right up to the threshold and then turn around? He obviously was a strong enough 'path to have fogged the minds of the four guards. He could have made an escape with the singer even after Jason had called an alert. Was he afraid of her or just toying with them all?

  Mulling this over, he
decided to ask Marta to contact the Hive Queen in the morning and ask if they would be affected by a telepath. The Shrieks wouldn't let Coop and his crew in to search the place, so it would be the perfect place to hide if the 'path could get past the insectoids.

  Still trying to figure out how they were supposed to catch a man who could effectively disappear—Anya didn't know how right she'd been when she'd called the telepath a ghost—Jason entered his quarters, stripped, and fell back into bed. The rest of his night was undisturbed by outside sources, but bad dreams kept him tossing all night long.

  Chapter 5

  Marta Jamison's visit to the women's quarters came at an indecently early hour. Feeling like she'd had all of five minutes' sleep, Anya plastered a welcoming smile on her face and made a large pot of coffee. The captain didn't seem to notice Anya's disheveled appearance and strained conversation, accepting a cup of coffee graciously. She'd been informed about the events of the night before, and Anya asked her not to mention it to her companions when they rose, which they did soon after with some help from her. If she had to be up at this ungodly hour, then she was damned well going to have company.

  When her friends started trailing out of the bedroom, greeting the captain in annoyingly chipper voices, Anya excused herself. She felt a little more refreshed after a shower and change of clothes, but when she rejoined the group in the living room, she still allowed the others to carry the conversation as much as she could. Her head felt like it was stuffed in cotton, so she was barely paying attention when she caught a reference to the Hive. Her focus sharpened immediately. "I'm sorry…what did you say?"

  The captain turned to her with a smile. "I was saying that the Hive is just at the end of this sector and takes up all of the next one. I consider it a great accomplishment that the Shrieks allowed a Hive to be formed here in the first place. You see, their Queens are at the center of their society. She is their creator, their administrator, their sole purpose for being. To allow herself to be placed in a situation where other species have a margin of control over her safety is an amazing show of trust."