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Warlock
Warlock was inspired by watching an anime called The Last Exile several years ago (probably around 2005 or 2006). I decided to start posting chapters of the ongoing story on a website called Stories OnLine, since I liked getting feedback. Comments about the abrupt ending encouraged me to write the epilogue. Warlock was written roughly between 9/15/2006 and 4/1/2009, with most of the writing happening between 9/1/2008 and 4/1/2009.
Warlock Chapter 1 Sophia slammed her hand down on the console in anger, then winced and apologized aloud. "Sorry, baby. Sorry." The same hand that had formed a fist now flattened and she stroked it once across the viewscreen that told her what she already knew. The Warlock was dying. "It's not your fault." She said in a husky whisper, staring out the front windows, searching with her eyes for anywhere that she could bring the Warlock in to dock, even though her instruments told her that there was nothing out there. Just cloud and darkness and the start of a long fall that would end in weeks of repairs, at the least. At the most, well, she wouldn't have to worry. Because she'd be dead. "Not your fault." She repeated. No, it wasn't the Warlock's fault that Sophia was in the middle of an endless sky, chasing a ghost with an electrical system that was getting waterlogged. That was Sophia's fault alone. She had obviously missed sealing one of the ship's panels correctly. And she'd decided to take the Warlock out in search of a rumor. Even as she brooded and stared out the window, her left hand was locked on the steering mechanism so hard that her knuckles ached. She flexed her hand briefly, then went back to ignoring the pain. Her right hand was still dancing over the various switches, buttons, and dials that made up the majority of the control center of the Warlock. The ship was rigged to be run by one person, but it wasn't easy. Especially when half the systems weren't working right because of the damp. But she kept flicking switches in the hopes of getting her radar to work again. It had failed a few minutes ago, but so had the life support system, and that had come back on again almost immediately. It was bad enough she was flying with fuel tanks that were more full of promises than actual fuel. Another thing that was her fault, but not by accident. She'd chosen to launch from Oriskany Dock without filling her tanks in the hopes that her obvious distress would cause her ghost to materialize and save her. And now she was in the area where rumor had placed the Silvana, rapidly running out of fuel and broadcasting a distress call on all frequencies. To add unsettling reality to her situation, the electrical failures were making the broadcast cut in and out. A few more minutes and she'd have to try and bring the Warlock down somewhere on the ground, hope that she could land it safely. She was running out of time. Her left hand ached again. She let go of the steering entirely and straightened out her fingers with a little groan for the pain as the muscles resisted. This was probably the second most stupid thing she had done in her life. The first had been undoubtedly sneaking out of the house a year ago and going on the run with her sister's ship. The Warlock was small and hardly noticeable, but she hadn't changed its name either, which meant she was probably leaving a trail of docking logs as wide as the trail the Warlock left in the sky. She might have thought that purchasing the Warlock at auction and hiding it from her family and the media would have been the most stupid thing she'd ever done, but she had fallen in love with the Warlock the moment she stepped inside it. It had been Carolina's ship, and she only dimly remembered being in it as a young girl, but once she'd set foot in it when it was legally her ship, she'd never regretted the auction for a moment afterward. It even mitigated her headlong flight from the capital, reducing it from an act of treason to a mere annoyance. Of course her father probably didn't agree with that. But what did he know? He'd never liked flying anyhow. Sophia felt the change before she saw it, before the instruments even registered any nearby presence. There was a shift in the clouds that caused the steering mechanism to jerk, and she corrected for the wind's push against the Warlock even as she leaned forward to see what was causing it, her heart in her throat. Nothing but clouds. How she hated flying blind. The clouds spun, keeping their own secrets. But she stared at them until she couldn't hear the intermittent broadcast of her own distress signal. Ahead and to her right, no more than a hundred feet up, the clouds were pushing outward, as though they were filled with something more solid than water vapor. "Please." She whispered, although she couldn't say what she was asking for. It didn't matter. All her wishes had been answered. The clouds parted reluctantly over an expanse of dull metal that faded into cloud again in every direction. It was the Silvana. It was huge. Sophia stared up at it, her mouth hanging open. She knew the Silvana was one of the few fully self-contained ships, but the theory hadn't prepared her for the reality. It was the size of a palace, a city, a dream come true. Laughing a little wildly, she punched at the comms button, killing the recorded distress signal and opening it up to all frequencies. "Pilot of Warlock to ship. I'm about a hundred feet below you, and god only knows how far back on your starboard side. Open your docking bay for emergency landing, please." Silence. Sophia ran a disbelieving eye over her view screen and the dimly lit lights of her controls. She was certain that she was sending. "Pilot of Warlock to ship. Respond please." "Pilot of Warlock to huge ship. Emergency protocol. Respond please." Nothing. She bit back profanity, although it didn't matter. Either they couldn't hear her swear, or they could and they didn't care. Now the Silvana was slowly rising up above her, pulling away. "No!" She cried out, watching both her dream and the promise of a safe landing for the Warlock turning away from her. "Warlock to ship! Respond! I need help!" Even as she was shouting into the comms, her left hand was gripping the steering mechanism tightly, fighting the drift that the huge ship was sending her way. The Warlock flopped in the airstream like a fish out of water, but Sophia hung on grimly, hearing the alarms as systems failed, recovered, failed again. She could still breathe, so life support was working. She could still steer, so steering was working. She could still fly, so she had fuel. That was all that mattered. That and making it to the Silvana, which was still pulling away from her. "Warlock to ship." She said in a voice tight with concentration. "I'm coming in." Then she turned the Warlock against the airstream and fell about fifty feet so she could come at the ship from behind. Logic dictated that the docking bays were somewhere in the rear of the ship, above or below the propulsion engines. She knew the Silvana was a neutral ship, so it was unlikely that it was using the docking bay to support fighter ships. That meant the docking bay should be on the lower side. At least she hoped it was. Her concentration was swallowed up by steering the Warlock, trying to keep it from being pushed away from the Silvana, spun out of control by the drifts, or falling like a stone because one of the systems had failed catastrophically. She blinked repeatedly to keep the sweat out of her eyes, unable to spare a hand to wipe her forehead. She could feel the Warlock fighting for her, trying its best to do what she asked of it. They were both up against something so large that it was as though the Warlock was a candle in a cloudless, sunny sky. Insignificant. Sophia growled and gave up on the systems so she could wrap both hands around the steering mechanism and push. The Warlock whined and coughed, but stayed valiant, shuddering in the drift. Red lights, ghostly in the deep cloud-cover. Sophia crowed as she saw them, and pulled back on the steering mechanism with her whole body, bringing the Warlock down and to the right, targeting the lights. The Warlock coughed again, and red lights flashed in the cabin. The triumph was wiped from Sophia's face as she flicked a glance up to the bank of switches on her right. The life support had failed again. "Come on, baby." She whispered, "Just a little more." The life support light flickered on. And off. A thousand promises died unspoken in her throat. She could have said that she would spend a month repairing all the systems she hadn't had a chance to fix since she bought the Warlock. But that all hinged on surviving. And now, her only hope was the Silvana. What she had begun as an illusion was now grim reality. "Here I come." She said as she saw the wide open space bracketed by red lights. The docking bay was too big to have doors, so there was nothing stopping her from landing. That is, if she could land the Warlock without killing herself, others, hitting the side of the Silvana and exploding in a cloud of blue dust, or sliding right back out and falling like a stone. She pushed the Warlock a little harder, then eased up suddenly, letting the inertia bring the Warlock in, feeling the sudden release of tension as the absence of something she hadn't noticed at all in the first place. She toggled the landing gear switch as the red lights came closer. Silence. Sophia laughed suddenly, though there was nothing amusing about it. The landing gear was dead. "It's okay, baby." She said soothingly to the Warlock, and kept one hand on the steering mechanism while her other hand hovered over the fire control switches. The red lights flashed by her, faster than she had planned. She pulled the Warlock into a turn and brought it down toward the floor that was moving way too fast. Then she flicked the fire control switches on all at once with the flat of her hand, finally wiped the sweat off her forehead, and waited tense and praying as the cabin filled up with foam and alarms screamed from every direction. *** "Banks to bridge. We've got a problem." Banks' voice was tight with anger. In the background there was shouting and the bleating of machinery, giving weight to his words. John Bren glanced up from his reports toward the viewscreen on the wall of his ready room. It was split into various views of the Silvana. Nothing looked abnormal. "Bren here." He tapped his comm to respond on the same channel, leaving it open so that the bridge could still hear as well. "The Warlock gone?" "No, sir." He yawned and leaned back in his chair, "Report." "The jackass pilot brought the ship into the bay anyhow, skipped it like a flat stone across the floor." "Damage?" Bren leaned forward again, no longer tired. His fingers flicked over the viewscreen commands, bringing several cameras online in the flight deck. There was smoke everywhere, and against the far wall, the crumpled body of a ship. His heart jumped as he inspected the wreckage, a knee-jerk reaction to the sight of the ship that he had attempted to ignore. He'd hoped that someone had simply chosen the same name for a dual-seater ship. But his eyes told him that it wasn't going to be that easy to dismiss the ship he'd stared at as it came out of the clouds like it was rising from his dreams. It was the Warlock. The Silvana's own mechanics were fighting fire and smoke to get to it, so it was hard to see the extent of the damage to the tiny ship, but he couldn't deny the surge of recognition. Bren clenched his jaw. It wasn't the Warlock. He was just imagining it, desperate for any link to the past that he'd endanger the Silvana and its crew for a ship that only resembled the Warlock superficially. Someone had named it the Warlock as a coincidence. Or to get his attention. "Nothing but the floor and wall, and some minor equipment that got in their way. Fucking miracle, sir." Banks was still angry, regardless of the lack of real damage. "But now we've got a piece-of-shit ship splattered all over my back wall. If the pilot or the navi's still alive, I'm throwing them over the edge of the deck, and their ship with them." Bren smiled slightly. Banks kept a pristine flight deck, and he loudly railed against anyone who left the smallest smear of grease or wrench out on the deck. He was well known for throwing garbage out of the docking bay, up to and including holding some of the more rebellious pilots out over the gaping maw of the bay, with only his fist wrapped up in their flight suits to stop them from falling into the sky's fatal expanse. "Are they alive?" He asked idly, debating whether or not to let Banks do as he threatened. With Silvana as a contested neutral ship, it was far easier to make the problem disappear, right off the edge of the flight deck. "Can't even get close to the junk these idiots were flying. Fire's too hot, still. Hopefully it'll cook the stupid bastards." Banks grumbled in a lower voice, which still came clearly over the comm channel, despite the shouting and the noise of machines. "Report when you have more information on the pilot and the navigator." Bren tapped his comm once again to cut the connection, and let the speakers in his ready room relay Banks' response. "Aye aye, sir." Then he leaned back in his chair and stared sightlessly at the table in front of him. What were the chances of a dual-seater like the Warlock showing up anywhere near the Silvana by accident? Slim. With the name Warlock? Impossible. Therefore, someone was trying to set Bren up. He was not pleased. He'd buried his memories of the Warlock when he buried the pilot. Whoever had brought those memories back to the surface had earned his immediate and searing hatred. Maybe he'd let Banks toss the pilot and navi off the edge of the Silvana. Maybe he'd ask Banks to keep the ship. He could restore it, given time. Even if it wasn't the Warlock and his gut whispered that it was he could rig it to run like the Warlock had. The Warlock had not been a rare class of ship. No. Let it stay dead, where it belonged. The Warlock was no longer part of his life. He was the Captain of the Silvana now. He surged out of his chair and went out to the control deck so that he could relieve his first officer of duty and take over running the ship for a while. *** "Give him another one Never mind, he's up." Those were the words that Sophia heard, right before the adrenaline shot hit her bloodstream, and she practically leapt up off the floor. Her scream was short-lived, she started coughing and hacking, she couldn't get air. "Yeah, choke, you stupid bastard." Someone said, and Sophia did just that. She rolled to her hands and knees and retched out smoke and impact resistant foam and blood. "Easy, Head. He didn't do that much damage. Besides, he looks like he's about fifteen." "I don't care if he's five. He smeared his ship over my deck." "Don't!" There was a brief struggle, which Sophia was only peripherally aware of. "He shows up in the med bay with broken ribs and Bren's going to know it was you. We can deal with this ... later." "I'll throw his ship off the edge and make him watch." The first voice growled. "Sure, Head. But later." The voice came closer, helped her sit up. "You good now, kid?" She nodded, shook her head. "Well which is it? Here, wipe off some of the gunk so you can actually see." A towel was shoved in her hand, and she scraped her face clean, or at least clean enough so that she could crack open her eyes. The smell of vomit reached her and she kicked back away from it, her stomach roiling. "Easy, easy." Through tearing eyes, she could finally see the man who was trying to help her. He was a grey shape under the brilliant lights of the flight deck. There were other grey shapes looming around her. One probably belonged to the man who wanted to kick her. Sophia opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was too dry. She coughed a couple times and tried again. "Wrrlah?" "What?" The helpful voice didn't understand. "Wrrlah!" She repeated. There was a series of movements among the grey shapes that she took to be shrugs, and she gave a little growl of frustration, trying to find a clean place on her jumpsuit that she could wipe her hands off on. She hated not being able to see. It was the instinctive hatred every pilot had for anything that obscured their vision. "He means the piece of shit ship we just pulled him out of." The man who'd wanted to kick her was the only one who understood her. She finally got her hands clean enough to wipe her eyes and look at him. He was huge. Short black hair, dark brown skin, clipped black beard and a pissed off look on his face. His jumpsuit was black, only lighter where he'd been smeared with foam and grease. She looked around at the other men. None of them were as large, or as annoyed with her. They had varying expressions of interest or disinterest. Only the man who'd handed her the towel seemed even the slightest bit concerned for her. "Well?" She demanded, and a different man gestured behind her. "It's what's burning, jackass." Sophia spun on her knees, her heart clenching when she saw the dull gleam of metal shrouded by clouds of smoke. An auto-pump was working away in the midst of the smoke, spouting out foam like one of Kyr Castle's old water fountains. "No." She whispered, seeing what she'd done to the Warlock. She'd found her rumor, but the Warlock had paid the price. "Shit. Hold him down!" Hands locked around her arms as she sprinted toward the Warlock, and she slipped and then hung down from their grip, limp as a flag on a windless day. Then she passed out. *** By the time Bren heard the status of the Warlock's pilot from the med bay, the pilot in question had already left under his own steam, staggering back to the flight deck before collapsing again in front of his ship. Banks had two of the mechanics sling the pilot back toward med bay and Gareck gave him a sedative to keep him under until he'd at least got enough sleep to stop falling over himself. "No injuries?" Bren asked, listening with half his attention on Banks while the head mechanic ranted about the mess in the docking bay. "Abrasions, smoke inhalation, minor burns. Probably one hell of a headache." Gareck reported, "From what I heard of her spectacular landing, it's a miracle she's in this good of a shape. Banks could have been scraping her up off the deck instead of talking about all the cleanup work he's going to make her do." Bren paused, "Her?" Gareck paused as well, equally startled. Then he laughed, "Don't tell me the mechanics didn't know the pilot was female! I thought their radar for young women was better and more specific than anything of the Silvana's." Bren opened his mouth to demand that Gareck describe her, but then he realized he was sitting in the middle of the command deck, surrounded by navigation officers. He forced himself to lean back in his chair, to take his hand away from the switch that would bring up the med bay's cameras and show him the face of the Warlock's female pilot. He realized he'd been silent too long. He searched for a response that wouldn't sound unusual. He took refuge in a mechanic's axiom. "Everything fails. Thank you, Doctor." "Yes, sir." Bren tapped his comm to listen in on the work happening in the docking bay, but it sounded as though they still hadn't gotten the fire totally extinguished yet. He tapped the comm back off and took off his glasses to rub at his eyes, his thoughts going in all directions. So now he had a ship from his past, crashed into his flight deck Banks' flight deck and the pilot was female. Someone was definitely trying to get his attention. Once the pilot woke, and once Bren knew who she was, he'd know better how to proceed. Then he'd know who this new enemy was. He stared out the forward viewscreens, watching the sky above the clouds faithfully reproduced as though the walls were made of glass. Even after years of running the Silvana, he still disliked the viewscreen display. It lacked realism, and thus urgency. But being the captain of a floating semi-city made it so that few things were truly urgent. He could feel the difference now. He'd been content, wrapped up in the politics and the engineering and all the important decisions of management that kept the Silvana flying. None of them had made him as restless as he was now. He clamped the fingers on his right hand into a fist, feeling them itch to drum on the arm of his chair. He surged up out of his chair, needing to do something other than sit and wait for events to happen. His phenomenal patience had made him and the Silvana rich and seldom in real danger, but it took a toll on his sanity. His first officer glanced toward him. "Captain?" Bren ran an expert eye over the comms flickering in front of the other officers. All green. Apart from the fire on the flight deck, everything was running smoothly. "I'm going to the health deck. The bridge is yours. Notify me when Banks reports in, if I'm not back by then." "Yes, sir." She turned away and glanced over the comms in much the same way he had, familiarizing herself with the general state of the ship. With the Silvana in good hands, Bren went to work off some of his nervous energy. *** It wasn't until he had taken a long turn on the exercise machines and had a long shower that Bren felt more in control of himself. It wasn't until after he had dinner and reported back to the bridge that a report finally came in from the flight deck. His first officer answered it. He watched her patiently, waiting for the information to come to him. "Captain. The pilot of the Warlock has finished a partial diagnostic and claims that it will take two or three weeks to repair the ship before she can leave the dock. Your orders?" Bren leaned back in the captain's chair, frowning. "Did Banks confirm that estimate?" His first officer grimaced, "In a way. He's still recommending the entire thing be tossed off with the rest of the trash." "Then she's free to stay and make repairs. Was the pilot the only crew? Looked like a dual-seater on the screen." He mentioned, his voice deliberately casual. Miller shook her head. "It's a dual-seater, but she's rigged it to run for one. She's the only crew." Bren nodded slowly. He knew how to rig a ship to fly for one pilot. He also knew that he'd set up the Warlock to do just that. "Give the pilot a berth near the docks. If she's both pilot and navi, she'll probably sleep in the ship, or as close to it as she can get." He glanced up at the viewscreens again. The wall was suffused in red, but it wasn't a sign of danger, only of oncoming night. "Is the pilot still up and moving?" Miller tapped open a line to the flight deck and asked. "No, sir. She started doing a more detailed diagnostic and passed out. The mechanics put her up on..." There was a startled break, then Miller's voice continued smoothly, "Put her up in a laundry bag and left her there to sleep." Bren couldn't help the smile that came to his lips. He could just imagine the unknown woman, tossed in the giant canvas bag with all the other dirty laundry, sleeping on jumpsuits covered in ash, grease, blood, and sweat. In a pinch, it made a decent bed. He'd done the same himself once or twice. As a prank, it was effective. The bags were larger than a man was tall, and almost impossible to climb out of without a rope or some quick thinking. Most people thrown in had to shout and beg to be pulled out of the sacks. "Sir?" Miller asked him, and he could tell from the slight tilt of her eyebrows that she thought the mechanics were being harsh on the pilot. Frequently it was his first officer who provided the veneer of civility to the Silvana's dealings with governments and other organizations. Bren had never bothered. So why was he being so gentle now? He should have let Banks toss the woman off the deck, along with the remains of the Warlock. But he knew he was going to let her sleep, let her repair the Warlock. Let her come to him, to play whatever part she'd been given in whatever plot had been orchestrated with him in mind. "No further orders." He said in a soft voice. Together they watched the viewscreen turn black with the spin of the planet, and eventually Bren forced himself to go to his quarters and search for sleep. *** When he finally woke to his alarm, he felt like he'd been in a crash of his own. His head was full of sand and all his joints needed oil. Or, since he was not a plane, food. He cleaned up and opened the dumbwaiter slot on his table to find breakfast and the night's reports, as expected. He slowly read through the reports as he ate, concentrating on the pages fiercely. He left the flight deck and medical reports until last, dragging out the anticipation, hoping that it would wane. With a grunt of irritation at his own naivetι, Bren finished off his stimulant drink and reached into his personal food storage chest, pulling out the glass bottle of whiskey that he kept in there. A good long drink of the sharp alcohol brought his head up and cleared some of his bad mood. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then read the flight deck report first. It described the Warlock, which only confirmed what his gut knew, even though every further confirmation kept hitting him like a slap and he denied each one reflexively. There was extensive damage to almost everything on the plane. The only way the Warlock would be flying any time soon was straight down. The medical records he read more closely, slowly. The pilot was a woman, in her early 20s, with no identification in her jumpsuit. She'd been focused on getting back to her ship, and had refused to answer any of Gareck's questions. She was healthy barring the damage she'd sustained as part of the crash. She was 1.59 meters tall and 59 kilograms of weight, brown hair, brown eyes. Dark brown hair glinting red under the bright white lights of the docking bay. His mind flashed a hundred identical memories at him, all at once. Carolina's brown hair whirling, her brown eyes narrowing as she turned on him. Sometimes in anger, sometimes in a dare, sometimes in invitation. Bren's jaw tightened and he went back to reading the report. The woman had resisted all suggestions to rest and had physically pushed two aides out of the way to get back to the flight deck. They had followed her, with a sedative at the ready, as she stumbled down the halls and made her drunken way to the lifts. No one interfered as she went back to the flight deck and her ship. The aides had left her in the care of Banks and the other mechanics. The same procedure had been repeated once she woke up from the sedative that had been applied on the flight deck. After that, she had not returned to the medical facilities, under her own steam or by other methods. Feeling up to speed on the situation, Bren checked the time. It was still early morning. If the woman was truly the Warlock's pilot, she'd already be awake and doing work on the ship. If she was something else, she'd still be asleep and he could get a close look at the Warlock. Which was what he really wanted. He went out to the private lift that was just inside his quarters. The lift, which was locked down except for emergencies, would take him down to the docking level without drawing attention to his presence. The lift was also silent and well-cared for, as was everything on the Silvana, no matter how rarely it was used. In an emergency, seconds would matter, and maintenance was everything. When the lift stopped at the flight deck, Bren put his hand out to push the button to open the lift doors, hesitated. It couldn't be Carolina. Carolina was dead. But all he kept seeing was Gareck's inadequate description of the female pilot, and Carolina's face overlaid over that dry report, bringing life to the words. He pushed the button with more force than was necessary, and the doors opened. A split second was spent scanning the entire bay, but his eyes went almost immediately to the bulk of the Warlock. And it was the ship that he had hoped feared it was. The same ship that successive reports had confirmed, but he hadn't been able to accept. It was his Warlock. Carolina's Warlock. He could do nothing to deny it now. As he stared at it, a figure moved out from under it's shadow, clinging to the ship desperately, fighting the heavy winds that played along the edges of the bay. The figure was female, slender, a single braid of brown hair whipping behind her, glinting red under the bright white lights of the docking bay. Bren hissed in a sudden breath, denying to himself what he saw. And as the initial shock passed, he could tell that it wasn't Carolina. The woman moved differently, without the confidence that Carolina had possessed, without an ounce of her grace. Instead she was making her way around the Warlock, holding on tightly to each piece of blackened metal that stuck out more than the width of a hand from the ship's hull, inching forward to grasp the next handhold. A slow, sardonic smile grew on Bren's lips. He knew who the woman was. But was she here to see him? Or was it all a huge cosmic joke? Or worse, was she being used by forces he could not yet see? And how had she found the Warlock? He stepped further out into the huge open floor that was the docking bay, making sure to stay in the shadow of the larger bank of lifts to his left. Once he'd gotten over the surge of recognition at seeing the Warlock, he could tell that the ship was in bad shape. There was no way she could have planned the crash, unless she was suicidal. Or someone else had planned for it and she was the sacrificial lamb. Either way, the pilot of the Warlock was no danger to him. The woman gripped one of the legs of the Warlock's landing gear and ducked her head down to the floor, obviously rallying herself for the next move, which would be to open the instruments hatch that was above her head. Bren flicked a finger at his comm unit on his wrist and opened a private channel to Banks, head of the mechanics. "Banks." The burly man's voice came through loud enough that Bren was concerned the woman might hear him. "This is Bren. Stop torturing the Warlock's pilot and bring the ship closer in." He closed the link before Banks could respond, and went back to watching the woman. When he'd last seen her, she'd been no more than a wary-eyed teen. That had been years ago. Long years. He saw Banks and two of the other mechanics walk toward the woman. From where he stood, he could not hear the words used, but he could hear the rise and fall of Banks' voice. The woman's chin came up stubbornly, and he could tell from the set of her shoulders, even though she still clung to the Warlock, that she was as stubborn as her sister had been. This time when he smiled, it was less grim. The woman hadn't changed since he'd last seen her. She would fight Banks or anyone else who opposed her every step of the way. Bren respected that, even if he intended to use it against her. Chapter 2 Sophia should have been happy. As she wiped a filthy hand on her jumpsuit, she listed all the reasons why she should have been downright ecstatic. She'd found the Silvana. She'd made it aboard. She'd survived making it aboard the Silvana with far fewer injuries that she'd expected. She wasn't dead, which is what she'd expected. But when she touched the black side of the Warlock, she could taste the ash in her mouth, and it wasn't from the remnants of the fire. Grimly she hefted the pry bar in her hand and went back to work, prying open all the metal panels that had partially welded in their slots because of the fire and the slide across the docking bay floor. It was a grueling job because she had to try and unscrew the panels, then use her whole body to get enough power to lever any of them open. The mechanics were no help, although Banks had moved the Warlock further into the bay so she wasn't sweating ice and throwing up bile every time she glanced out over the yawning abyss that trailed behind the Silvana. But beyond that, she'd received no assistance. She remembered waking up on a pile of dirty laundry, warm and surrounded by the smells and sounds of a workshop in full operation. Her chrono said it was on the cusp between night and morning. The time when the air was chilly and crisp, making it the best time to do all the heavy work on a ship, before the day got too warm and muscles got too tired. She'd knotted a few jumpsuits together and hauled herself out of the bag of laundry to jump down the short distance to the floor, far too used to the pranks played on her by mechanics and pilots from all the other docks she'd stayed in to be more than momentarily disconcerted. There was not a single word spoken by any of the mechanics as they watched her climb out and down. But when she started trying to pry open an outer compartment on the Warlock with little success, a heavy toolbox full of basic repair equipment appeared near her feet with the spine-shuddering screech of being slid across the metal flooring. Sophia had looked up, startled. One of the mechanics was already walking away from her. He was neither the Head mechanic, Banks, nor was he the one man who'd been more kind to her at first, Naylor. She'd glanced around, but everyone else had been pointedly concentrating on their own work. So now she was working on the Warlock alone, doing all the heavy work first, opening up as many compartments and removing as many panels as she could to better assess the damage to the ship. Then she was planning to eat and clean herself up, then start vacuuming impact foam and fire foam out of the pilot and navigator chairs and the forward cabin. With any luck, she could sleep in the Warlock by nightfall. It took her hours to get just the lower panels off, and some of them she left on the ship when she felt the metal started to bend under the pry bar's focused pressure. She kept reminding herself that she was working on the most difficult panels first the ones that had been in contact with the metal floor during the slide. For some of them, the bolts holding the panels down had fused to the panels and the frame itself, and she'd had to tear the panel off entirely. Her upper arms gave out several times and she had to switch to removing the far less damaged panels. She kept changing from side to side until she couldn't do any more. She checked her chrono. It was before lunch time. She would go find out what she was being given in terms of concessions aboard the Silvana, then make use of whatever she was given. All she knew so far was that she hadn't been thrown off the Silvana, and she'd been given some tools, although that may have been simply charity. Naylor had asked for a rough idea of how much time it would take to repair the Warlock, and then had walked away once he'd gotten her answer. So, what did that mean? Hopefully she was going to be allowed to take those three weeks she'd claimed. Sophia hadn't lied about the time either, although she had worried that she would have to, before she'd skipped the Warlock across the docking bay floor. Now she had the perfect excuse to stay aboard the Silvana. Perfect. Her mouth turned down, and she leaned her head against the side of the Warlock for a moment. The metal was cool, lifeless for the moment, until she could get the engines running again. Sophia pushed herself away from the Warlock and slotted the pry bar and screwdriver back into their places in the toolbox, which she left on the floor where it was. If it was going to be taken away from her again, that was fine. She could reach the Warlock's own tool compartments now. When she headed for the lifts to leave the flight deck, no one tried to stop her and tell her where she was supposed to go. In fact, no one looked at her or said anything to her at all. That wasn't helpful. She scanned the massive space with narrowed eyes, looking for Naylor. There were various ships neatly parked between the massive pillars, and equipment and mechanics attending various ships, but none of them looked like Naylor. However, she did see Banks' directing the upgrade of a small fueler nearby. He would have to do. He raked a glance over her when she interrupted him and asked where to go to find out what her concessions were. His gaze was sharp, but not as hostile as it had been. "You're assigned to a cabin, one deck up." He gave her the number and went back to concentrating on what his bppm meter was telling him, ignoring her completely. Sophia blinked once, then turned and went to the lifts. She was too tired to decide if there had been any subtle messages in the few words Banks had said to her. He was probably just waiting for her to leave so he and the other mechanics could pull some new prank on her. As long as they didn't damage the Warlock, she didn't care. She took a moment in the lift to examine the pictographs that detailed each available deck. There was one deck dedicated to command and bridge, but she didn't dare go near there. It was too early for that. There were decks devoted to food and agri, water and sewer, health, admin, fire, propulsion, and a dozen other things that she recognized. Some of the pictures she didn't recognize at all. She chose the deck that Banks had told her to use, and stood silently while the lift zoomed up the short distance to the next deck. The door opened and she stepped out into more serene silence. It occurred to her as she stood alone in the hall that she hadn't had real food or sleep since she lifted off from Oriskany dock a day and a half ago. She'd eaten some flight rations before the Silvana had appeared in the skies above the Warlock, and caught some sleep here and there since arriving, but beyond that ... Nothing. Which explained why she was shaking on her feet. She stumbled down the hall to the number Banks had given her, and to her relief the door opened without resistance or alarms. If it was anything other than a typical cabin she didn't notice. She had eyes only for the dumbwaiter slot on the table. She hoped the Silvana offered basic flight rations at the very least. She was in luck. She slid the ceramic door up to find not only the higher quality type of rations but also a thick piece of baked bread and an apple. There was also a stimulant drink, which she desperately needed. She reached for both the bread and the drink at the same time, one hand for each. Along with the food was a thick stack of papers which Sophia recognized as a basic concessions package. She ignored it until the food hit her stomach and she stopped feeling weak. Then quickly she flipped through the pages. The concessions were typical for any dock. A space for her ship, food, housing, all the basic amenities. Some minimal restocking privileges. She wished that section was a little more robust, but she couldn't complain. She'd had worse concessions packages. There was a blank space for her name and a list of documents that would be accepted as proof of identity. So far no one knew who she was, which was as she'd intended. There was one other blank space, and that made her jerk back in the chair, surprised. Then she consciously relaxed and leaned back in her chair until her gaze rose to focus on the dumbwaiter slot. There was no payment schedule. There was one page with the correct header, and then just the contract page at the end. She shuffled through scenarios quickly in her mind. The most likely one was that someone had merely forgotten to add the payment schedule. Next likely was that the schedule was in dispute. The Silvana could offer free concessions to all pilots demanding emergency assistance, but judging from the mechanics' reception and the lack of official welcome, that was highly unlikely. And least likely of all, John Bren recognized the Warlock and her. He could have his own plans, ones that he'd put into place the moment the Warlock had shown up on the Silvana's viewscreens. Sophia knew that it was such a slim possibility, but it was the one she feared most. She was not powerless, but with the Warlock effectively grounded so to speak she was grounded as well. If John Bren intended to user her, she had no way to escape. But he probably couldn't recognize the Warlock even if it was shoved under his nose. As for her, he hadn't seen her for years, had rarely spent time with her when he had known her, and she'd changed from a teenager into an adult since then. All those factors meant that she should be as anonymous as the Warlock, until she chose the time and place to confront John Bren. Sitting in her filthy jumpsuit wasn't getting her any closer to that time or place, so Sophia checked the info plate beside the door and went out to investigate the section's head facilities. Judging from the faded scent of cleaning agents, she was the only one housed in that section of the deck. Sophia shucked her jumpsuit and clothes and took her first real look in a mirror. Wincing, she touched each of the bruises she could see. She'd known that she'd been knocked around in the Warlock as it slid into the docking bay, but she had not given herself a chance to think about her own bruises. Now that she had a moment where she wasn't obsessing about the Warlock, she could feel the pain coming up underneath the suppressing painkillers that the med people must have given her. But all in all, she looked worse off than she really was. There were a few scratches here and there, and one long gash on each of her arms, where the consoles had cut through her jumpsuit. She'd already felt the telltale bumps of stitching holding her skin closed over the two cuts, so she merely checked to make sure the medical machines had done their job in keeping both sides of the slash meshed smoothly. Inspection done, she took her dirty clothes in with her into the shower unit. The jumpsuit she left on the floor. She would have to ask for one from Banks or someone else, depending on whether the flight deck kept its own supplies or they were managed by central Stores. Chapter 3 It turned out that there was indeed a central Stores facility, which took up its own deck. Sophia was sent there by another nameless mechanic the closest one she could find on the flight deck who was immediately helpful. He even offered to walk her to the deck, just to make sure she found the place. Sophia gave him a tight smile and turned him down. She knew very well why he was suddenly so attentive. Her damp clothes were plastered to her body, leaving pretty much nothing to the imagination. It was easy to find the right deck; she just pressed on the button next to the picture of folded towels. She ran her fingertips over the pictograph for the bridge, thoughtfully. She wanted to confront John Bren as soon as possible, but she wanted to do it from a position of strength. Her mind clicked down an internal list. She was getting close to the end. She just needed to negotiate with Stores for another jumpsuit that covered her obviously female body, register herself with admin and find out what was the issue with the payment schedule, and then, finally, find John Bren. Dealing with Stores was easy. They knew who she was at first glance, and they seemed to be used to talking to people in various states of dress, so no one paid her slowly drying clothes any mind. Sophia had to wait a while to get her jumpsuit and a small vacuum sealed package of linens for her cabin, but she stood patiently, knowing that the delay was typical of any bureaucracy, even on a ship that never saw ground more than once or twice a year. Admin was a bit harder. "Sophia Delgrada." She said firmly, for the third time, as confident in her new jumpsuit as she'd been in normal clothes. "No. I don't have any real identification beyond the receipts I already gave you. It's all either burned up or soaked useless in impact-resistant foam." The admin officer looked up at her as though she'd deliberately destroyed the identification herself. Which was partly true; her real papers were still safe in the Warlock's smuggler's compartment. But Sophia didn't let the truth show on her face, nor was she the least bit nervous that the man would cause her any real trouble. The trick with admin officers was to show no fear and no pain. To be honest, it was just like dealing with government officials of any level, which she'd been doing since before she could talk. Be patient always, smile when necessary, give information absolutely never. "We don't have any procedures for undocumented passengers." He said bluntly, "Unless you have someone willing to vouch for you, I'm going to have to report this to the Captain." Sophia an aloof little smile and said nothing, daring him. She knew it was just a threat. He narrowed his eyes at her, waiting for her to give in, but she had years more experience in dealing with his type than he had with hers. He shuffled his papers together with a muttered curse and walked off abruptly, leaving her waiting. She ran fingertips over the matching lines of bumps on her forearms absently, waiting for him to return. His superior would give her at least temporary amnesty because whoever had started the concessions paperwork obviously had more seniority, and he'd be loathe to contradict an order from higher up. True to prediction, within the hour she was granted a temporary pass and a pages-long list of restrictions. Both were handed to her by the admin officer with some further posturing over how important they both were and how she'd be in a lot of trouble if she transgressed. Sophia took the papers and left him standing there, threatening air. She dumped the restrictions in the first garbage chute she found. They were useless. The pass she stuffed in the docs pocket of the jumpsuit. Then she permitted herself a small smile of triumph in the privacy of the lifts. The rest of the evening was hers to clean out the Warlock's forward cabin. Then tomorrow, she'd confront John Bren like a ghost from his treacherous past. *** The docking bays were silent, and even the bright floodlights overhead seemed dim in the middle of the night. Bren stood for a long moment outside the lift doors, breathing slowly, taking in the silence and the tang of metal grease and rubber. The urge to shuck his captain's gear, throw on a jumpsuit and grab a wrench was powerful, but he was years away from that temptation. Other temptations were too new and hard to ignore. He headed toward the Warlock. He shouldn't have been back on the flight deck. Shouldn't have even gone there in the first place. But he was there anyhow. Admin had reported on the pilot of the Warlock. So had Stores and the Mechanics. No new information, except that she was calling herself Sophia Delgrada. Which was her real name, but only in the most technical sense. He stopped still when he saw movement near the Warlock, then eased himself back several steps until he was in the shadow of another ship. There was no one else to see him do it save Banks, who was smart enough to let his Captain do whatever he liked. But there was also Sophia Delgrada, still awake and working industriously in the Warlock's forward cabin. Judging from the way her head was tipped down while she concentrated on what she was doing, she was still cleaning out impact-resistant foam and other debris. Certain that he wouldn't be noticed, Bren moved forward again, his eyes watching the brown braid slide over her back from side to side as she worked. He was burning the image into his brain, training himself not to start when she turned around and looked at him. He would not see Carolina when he looked at her younger sister. He wouldn't recognize her at all. Let her make the first move. Let her come to him, as all things did. He came to the Warlock, and put a hand out tentatively to touch the side of the ship. The metal was cool to the touch, which made his hand clench suddenly, once. The engines had never failed while he-- Bren cut off his own thought by leaning back until he could see the braid again. "Need help?" He asked. There was a sharp gasp, then the woman turned, and he kept his face absolutely still. Focusing on her face. Just a face. No resemblance. No one he knew. Just a pilot who'd crashed her ship into his docking bay. She didn't do as well. Her eyes widened, and he could see in the clear white light the way her pupils dilated when she leaned over the edge of the canopy to look at him. She recognized him. He waited. "Uh. No ... That's kind of you to offer, but I've nearly finished." She said, her voice low and uncertain. Bren stepped back as though to look the Warlock over, but he just wanted to break eye contact before he lost control of his own expression. "Nearly finished what? Looks like you're building a garbage scow from here. Or taking one apart." Inwardly he apologized to the Warlock. Sorry, baby. Had to be done. "It's a damn good ship." The woman snapped, suddenly hostile, "Got me here without a scratch, and it'll get me out again just as well. He just needs a patch or two, and he'll be air-worthy again." "He?" Bren made a show of looking the ship over again. "Most ships are feminine. The Silvana is." "This one's not." Sophia wasn't giving any ground, but Bren noticed she hadn't ignored him and gone back to cleaning yet either. He wished he had a couple minutes alone with the Warlock, just to reacquaint himself with the ship. But Sophia Delgrada wasn't completely uninteresting. She lacked the flamboyant beauty of her sister, but she was a tidy little package from what little he could see, and easy to goad. He didn't think any further than that, knowing that the flight deck's lights could be just as unforgiving to his act of deception as they had been to wreck hers. It was time to wrap up the first scene. He walked over to the toolbox and reached down for the pry bar, then headed for the back end of the Warlock and the one engine compartment he knew was always a pain in the ass to open. "What the hell do you think you're doing! Get away from there!" He heard her curse and slither down the Warlock's side and rush to stop him, but he was faster. The compartment was still sealed shut on the Warlock. She hadn't been able to pull it off. With a certain sense of satisfaction, Bren tapped the pry bar on one spot on the compartment with clinical precision, then pried it open with an effortless movement. Sophia rounded the end of the Warlock just in time to see the operation. Bren handed her the compartment panel. "I can see you don't need any help." He said in his soft voice, then turned and walked away, leaving Sophia to learn what everyone else had. The soft voice was just the cover for a real bastard. When he made it to the lifts without hearing her call him back, Bren knew for certain that she had some kind of plan in store for him, and possibly the Silvana. It was time to do some intelligence gathering. Time to pay attention to the politics of minor nations once again, to perk up the Silvana's ears and listen carefully to the warmongers and gladhanders again. And time to stay the hell away from the flight deck. He still wasn't sure if he'd initially gone down to see the Warlock, or its pilot. Chapter 4 The forward cabin still stank of impact foam, burned wiring and fire, but Sophia felt safer taking the linens from her designated room on the upper deck and bedding down in the Warlock instead. The encounter with John Bren had rattled her. She hadn't been prepared to see him yet, and had certainly not been prepared to have him suddenly appear outside the Warlock like a hallucination brought on after too many hours flying. She was still feeling nervy, too. Her fingers fumbled at the wrappings on the blankets, and she'd dropped her tools several times after John Bren had faded back into the shadows. Every few minutes or less she stopped to peer over the side of the Warlock's canopy to make sure he wasn't standing there again. Eventually Sophia abandoned the idea of getting the cabin fully clean and just satisfied herself with vacuuming the foam off the floor and laying out some blankets. The Warlock's own bedding was still locked down in the interior compartments, and she hadn't gotten that far in her work. Had he recognized her? She could have sworn he hadn't. As for her, she'd reacted to the sound of his voice before she even saw him. The passage of years hadn't changed the peculiar sound of his voice, the words blurred by the way he spoke them. When she'd met him before, it had made him sound uncertain. Now it made him sound dangerous. He looked dangerous, too. He'd grown older, and more powerful. She hadn't realized how young he was, the last time she saw him. He'd been a man, yes, but not fully grown. She'd been even younger, and hadn't been paying attention, never thinking that he was anything but one of Carolina's friends, a halfway decent navi, and possibly her lover. His features were still the same, but age had put an edge on them, broadened his shoulders, added heft to a frame that hadn't been small to begin with. His green eyes were no longer candid, now they were watchful, veiled. That was the dangerous part, to Sophia's mind. She'd been hoping to play off his shock at seeing her, for her plan to work. But there'd been no recognition there at all. With arms that ached both from injury and from the strenuous work of the morning, she slowly levered the canopy back into place over the cabin. The flight deck's blinding white lights refracted through the gunk that was still smeared all over the transparent panels. Sophia tapped on one of the Warlock's comms in a vain attempt to get the panels to darken. They remained transparent, which she had expected. She sighed and knelt down to push the blankets further past the navi's chair and into the back of the cabin. Had he not really recognized her? She didn't look a lot like Carolina, but there was some resemblance. Brown hair, brown eyes, round face, lithe body made tough by the Warlock's demands. Not that he could see her body in the sexless jumpsuit. But surely he'd seen something of Carolina in her face. That was what she'd been hoping for. Just not so soon, before she was prepared! Sophia looked around the little cabin and sighed again. She wasn't used to sleeping under floodlights yet. Nor was she used to this prickly feeling of dread that kept her jumping at every sound she heard outside the Warlock. Even when she'd left home, there had been no dread, only determination. Damn John Bren. He'd caught her unawares and spiked her determination. She looked around at the foam-encrusted consoles of the Warlock and firmed her resolve once more. She'd faced down more dangerous men over the breakfast table. John Bren would be no problem at all. *** Bren organized the night's reports so that all the ones regarding Sophia Delgrada were on top. The several reports he expected turned out to be only two. One minor note from security listing two short stays in her designated cabin. The second report wasn't much longer; Banks stated that she'd worked on the Warlock, hauled some bedding into the ship's cabin and hadn't been heard from since early morning, when she'd headed for the lifts. Bren glanced up at the viewscreen over the table in his quarters. It was about an hour after the report said she left. He shrugged and began to read through the rest of the reports with his usual deep concentration. The only other note of interest was that Miller had some initial information on his request for a look into current ground politics. He headed for the bridge to get a better feel for how the Silvana was running, and to hear what Miller had to say. It wasn't much. "Sorry, sir." After the brief report, she was matter-of-fact about her failure to get much information. "We almost never go near Anatoray, so there's very little on-board data about the country." "Anything on the newscreens?" Bren asked, "I'll take rumors as well." "No, sir. Anatoray is still in the midst of hostilities with Disith. Some skirmishes, but no declarations of war yet. They've been so busy focusing on each other that they rarely interact on a political level with their other neighbors, and vice versa." "Nothing on the royal family?" He pressed. Miller shook her head, "No, sir. Unless you count one crackpot." She smiled at him wryly from where she was looking over an officer's shoulder at his comm. "Explain." She looked briefly embarrassed, then straightened up, the tone of his voice making her stand almost at attention. "Just a joke, sir. We received a request from the pilot of the Warlock. She claims she's the princess of the Anatoray royal family. She wants an audience with you." When Bren leaned back into the captain's chair, suddenly at ease again, Miller regained her amusement about the situation. "We put her in the negotiation room and she's been cooling her engines in there since she showed up." Bren smiled a little at his first officer. "Good job." He said softly. "Sir." She grinned at him. The grin faltered and vanished when he stood up and headed for the negotiation room. "Sir?" "I've got a meeting with a crackpot. The bridge is yours." *** When Bren opened the door, the woman was caught in the middle of pacing. Before she covered up her startled reaction, he could tell that she was livid at being kept waiting, and embarrassed that he had caught her off-guard. Bren smiled lazily, taking amusement from the small show of his power. "Why don't you have a seat, Pilot Delgrada, and tell me what this is all about." He gestured to the chair that she was standing behind, taking one for himself on the opposite end of the table, blocking the only exit from the room. "I've been told that you've said some pretty strange things to my first officer. And it's only your second day on board." "My real name is Forrester, not Delgrada. I disguised my name in order to get on board the Silvana." She sat gracefully and faced him with no outward indications of her real emotions. "Do you have any proof of this new identity of yours?" He asked. She unzipped a pocket on her jumpsuit and slid a packet of papers over the wide surface of the table, leaving it just out of his reach. He'd have to stand up and lunge for it if he wanted to read the papers. His lips quirked into another smile and he left the packet where it was. "So what can I do for you, Pilot Forrester?" She lifted her chin a bit, "It's Princess Sophia, which I'm sure you're aware of." Bren shrugged slightly, giving nothing away. She leveled a look at him, "I see you've decided to be uncooperative. I know that you flew ships as my sister's navi for at least two years, and that you were among the last people to see her before she died." He inclined his head a fraction. Sophia folded her hands together, a curiously emotionless gesture until he realized how ingrained it was. "I want to know what part you had in her death." Bren sighed. "You ran a suicide run to ask me that? You could have sent a letter. The Silvana does maintain regular mail service." There was a spark in her eyes now. "This isn't a joke, John Bren. As Carolina's sister, I have a right to know. Were you paid to sabotage her ship, or were you paid to look away while someone else did it?" The folded hands now gripped each other tightly. "It's just Bren." He said distantly as his mind rocketed back to the past. Chapter 5 "Will you get out of my way, John! The ship's perfectly fine. Go piss on a live wire!" Carolina pushed him away, and her arms were strong enough from years of piloting to put him off-balance briefly. John Bren took only a half-step back in the small cabin before he was steady again. "I haven't finished my pre-flight check." He said stubbornly. "Damn your stupid pre-flight check for the hundredth time!" She whirled and swept his diagnostic tools off the pilot's console. "I don't have time to humor your pedantic need to inspect every inch of the ship. Now get out!" John Bren retrieved his amp probe from where it had rolled under the pilot's chair. "It's not pedantic; it's common sense. We left the Warlock out here on the concrete for the night while we were in town. Anyone could have come on board. And I don't trust that kid who says he's a friend of yours. He's nervous about something" "Sik's catamite?" Carolina's lip curled, "He's just afraid that I won't approve of him. He's harmless. And you're wasting my time. Out!" She pushed him again, and this time he went, climbing out of the forward cabin and sliding down to the ground. "Care is more important than speed." He said softly as he stared up at the bulk of the ship, but Carolina still heard him. She leaned over the edge, her brown hair falling around her face as she grinned down at him, "Bullshit it is. This run will make us into media darlings, John. Anatoray's future Empress arriving just in time to deliver critical news! They'll love us." John Bren shook his head, uncertain. He didn't want fame, but Carolina was obsessed with generating popular support before she ascended to the throne, the better to enact her own very different policies. "Relax." She ordered him as she tossed down his other tools before disappearing under the lowering canopy, the red highlights in her brown hair the last part of her that he saw. "If I screw this up, you'll have years to nag me about it!" *** "Captain Bren?" The voice was similar, but not close enough. It wasn't Carolina's voice calling him. It couldn't have been; she would have laughed herself sick at the thought of him being a captain. His mind rose back toward the present. "It's just Bren." He said, then shook his head roughly to clear out the last of the memory. "Are you ... Well?" The woman was standing on his side of the table, a couple of feet away from him as though she didn't know whether it was safe to come any closer. "Stellar." He played the last of the conversation back through his head, "You just accused me of helping to kill your sister. How should I feel? But I didn't sabotage Carolina's ship, nor did I let anyone else do it." He held her gaze as he said it, but once she'd determined that he was fine, there was no other indication of her real thoughts. She watched him for a long moment in silence, long enough to make him uncomfortable. He squelched the reaction. "No, you didn't." She said slowly, "But ... You're not sure that no one else did." Bren took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "Why are you pursuing this now? She's been dead for six or seven years. There were no questions asked about the crash, and I haven't exactly been hard to find if you wanted to ask me about it any time before now." When he put his glasses back on, Sophia had retreated to the other side of the table again. "Just hard to catch." She pointed out. "So write a letter." He shot back, then realized he was overreacting and leaned back in his chair. "So what do you want from me, your highness? Revenge? Blackmail?" "Information." She gave him a smile that was perfect, but entirely insincere. Bren watched her warily, "You're the only one I can ask about what happened that day." Idly one of her fingertips traced the ridge of flesh on one forearm where he could see the results of Gareck's good work. "If I had helped kill Carolina, I could have done the same to you, couldn't I? Did you consider that?" Bren shook his head in disgust, his soft voice a condemnation that Sophia appeared to ignore, "What's to stop me from letting Banks toss you and your ship off the flight deck?" Her expression didn't change at all, "My flight plans are a matter of public record." Bren stared at her, suddenly realizing how completely he'd been outmaneuvered. "Shit." The smile became more real, making Sophia's eyes sparkle. "Good thing I didn't crash." Bren felt a moment's sharp urge to strangle the woman. With her stupid immature need to find him, she'd put the entire crew of the Silvana in danger. He could just imagine the newscreens blaring out the information that John Bren had been implicated in the deaths of two Anatorayen princesses. Half of the Silvana's lucrative assignments would dry up and vanish, and god only knew how they'd manage to find a sympathetic fueling dock. After Carolina had died, she'd become practically a saint to small ship pilots and Bren had only managed to rebuild his reputation in the industry because he'd been known as her navi. As it was, he still flew far afield from Anatoray. But now, Anatoray was coming to him. Furious, he glared at her and growled. "I want you off the Silvana in a week. I'll assign two mechanics to you. Get the Warlock up and running, and get out." At least now Sophia looked slightly uncertain, as though she had finally discovered the end of Bren's patience, and it had come as a surprise. "And the information I want?" "I'll write you a report. Now get off my bridge, Pilot Forrester." "Not paper. It's too easy to lie on paper." She stood up, "Come to the Warlock when you have time. It's safe there." Bren made note of her paranoia as well as how expertly she'd manipulated him, remembering when she had been a wide-eyed sixteen year old, eager to meet her sister's marvelous flying friends. That had been a long time ago. "You've changed." He said. "So have you." Sophia's voice was low, and she cleared her throat suddenly and headed for the door. Bren watched her leave, still livid, but now also questioning what he just heard. If it had been anyone else ... He could have sworn she wanted him. His next thought was to wonder if her reaction had been designed to ensure his cooperation. He hissed another profanity in the privacy of the room, then tapped his comm. "Bridge." "Yes, sir." Miller answered immediately. "What's our ETA for Essex dock?" "Forty hours, sir." Bren could tell that his first officer was dying to know what happened in the little negotiation room, just from the way she spoke. He'd fill her in later, when he wasn't so angry. "Send out messages to Essex and all nearby towns. I want at least two experts on Anatorayen politics on the dock the minute we set down. Grab any ambassadors that have had experience dealing with the royal family as well." There was a long pause, "Yes, sir." Miller, being as smart as Bren knew her to be, didn't ask why. He closed that channel and opened one to Banks, telling the head mechanic to choose two assistants for the Warlock's pilot. "Faster to chuck the thing over the edge." Banks commented, "Though she's quick to get to work on it, I'll give her that." "She'll have to be quicker. You've got a week to get that ship off the Silvana. Anything that you need from Stores has my approval." "Wow. You're pissed. What did she do?" Either Banks couldn't hear the warning signs in Bren's voice, or more likely, he didn't care. Bren listened to the usual din of the flight deck through the comm. Machines beeping, tools whining, men shouting. It got past his anger and soothed him like nothing else did. "She grounded me." Bren regained a hold on his sense of humor, "What projects do you have for the Silvana? Nothing on the flight deck." He added quickly. "Let me check." There was a shouted conversation between Banks and one of the other mechanics. Bren identified the voice as John Duane's. He waited patiently. Eventually Banks took his thumb off his comm speaker. "I've got some low Claudia readings on the admin deck systems. I was going to wait until we docked to let" "I'll take it." Bren interrupted him, then tapped the comm again before Banks could reply. He was already out of his chair and heading for the door, his mood rising as he took refuge in the thought of the work ahead. Chapter 6 "That went well, I think." Sophia said brightly to the rows of buttons in the lift. Then she stepped back and slumped against the wall. If anyone looked at the viewscreen, they'd think she was understandably drained from her interview with the captain. She was, but not for the reasons they'd assume. It was one thing to make threats when you were sitting in a chair flanked by several security guards, and you had an entire country figuratively backing up your words. It was another thing entirely to be sitting at someone else's' mercy with nothing but a handful of half-truths and prevarications and still manage to look confident. It didn't help that she'd been so focused on getting the Warlock back on his feet and confronting John Bren that she hadn't given her body enough time to recover from the Warlock's ugly landing in the Silvana's docking bay. She could feel her body shaking, and took a long shuddering breath to try and calm herself down. Intellectually she knew she was doing alright, but her body had an excess of adrenaline to process, and it crawled over her skin like pin-footed spiders. The lift doors opened smoothly and Sophia jerked away from the wall, heading for the Warlock. Now that she'd told John Bren who she really was, and what she wanted, it wasn't safe to eat anything but the flight rations she'd packed in the Warlock's storage compartments. Sophia forced herself to walk at a normal pace across the flight deck to her ship, and not run like her body wanted to. Once she was inside the Warlock, she could climb the walls until the adrenaline wore off. Her expression darkened. At least part of that adrenaline was because she'd taken one look at the man that John Bren had become, and instantly desired him. The confrontation in the tiny negotiation room had only confirmed her first impression, and that had been before she was sure he wasn't involved with her sister's death. When she reached the shadow of the Warlock, she realized she was breathing hard. So much for a sedate walking pace. With a growl, she scrambled up to the canopy, checked that it hadn't been tampered with, and levered it up high enough to slip inside before letting it close again. The cabin really needed to be aired out, but she needed to get rid of the damn adrenaline more. Not John Bren, just Bren. "Damn it!" Sophia let out a little scream of frustration and went to open the Warlock's many interior compartments. She reminded herself that it was only her body reacting to all the stress of the last couple days. Once she calmed down, she'd stop hearing his soft, dangerous voice in her head. Once she stopped hearing his voice in her head, she'd calm down. As she suspected, the gear in the compartments had been thrown around by the slide, but nothing was broken. She left the mess the way it was and returned to the forward cabin, looking at all the dead consoles. They were a sharp reminder of what her plans had brought her to. Hissing out a quick breath, she climbed back out of the cabin and went to the back of the Warlock where the fuel tank sat uncovered inside its cradle, the extra space filled with stacks of the panels that Sophia had already taken off the Warlock's exterior. She rummaged in the engine's tool compartment and found a face mask and a scraper, and went to work scraping burnt Claudia off the inside of the fuel tank. It was a hard, messy job and one that was best suited to burn off the extra energy she had. She put her back into the work and soon there was a flurry of burnt Claudia flakes raining around her. She alternated between the bottom, sides, and top of the fuel tank, switching to a new side whenever her arms started to hurt too much. "Need help, little girl?" Sophia whirled at the voice, thinking it was a prelude to assault. Then she saw that two of the mechanics had wandered over to watch her work, their expressions holding nothing but idle curiosity. She made a sound of disgust at her own panic, then unclipped the face mask and gave them a rueful smile. "You could have offered to help an hour ago." She said. "Just got the word from the Head now." One man put a knuckle to his temple in a lazy salute, "I'm Seth. This is Tully Naylor, but we call him Naylor." Sophia waved away a drifting flake of Claudia, incredulous. "Banks told you to help me? You've got to be joking." Naylor grinned at her, "Bren gave the order. Banks wasn't happy." "I should think not!" Sophia retorted, "I bet he told you to help me right off the edge of the docks!" Seth shrugged. "Not this time. What needs to be done?" Sophia turned back to examine the fuel tank, taking the chance to roll her shoulders and ease some of the ache from wielding the scraper over her head. "I think the tank is mostly clean. I'm leaving the electrical for another day to make sure it's all dry. Today I plan to start looking at the engine." She turned back with a testing grin, "Have either of you fine gentlemen ever worked on a vanship before?" Seth shook his head. "Naylor?" "Not me. It can't be too hard, though. This ship's older than I am." Naylor ran a hand over the Warlock's upper panels, which had survived the disastrous landing without damage. Sophia fought the urge to slap his hand away. She reminded herself that to anyone else, the Warlock was just a ship, and an old one, as Naylor had pointed out. "That's the trick, I'm afraid." She said smoothly, stepping forward to lure the two mechanics away from the ship. "The Warlock's actually quite finicky, and if you haven't worked on vanships before, it will take me longer to teach you to help than to just do it myself. So, while I do appreciate your offer, gentlemen, I'm sure Banks has far more important work that you could be doing than sitting here watching me work." "You sure? Banks says you've got a week to get that thing up and running again." Naylor eyed the ship skeptically. Seth was rubbing at his forehead with the back of one knuckle. It seemed to be something he did when he was thinking. "I'm positive." Sophia gave them both a last, confident smile. Seth shrugged and turned to go, "Told you we should have come over before she finished the tank." He said to Naylor as the two of them walked away. "Yeah, but then we would have had to scrape it ourselves." "Think you can still get a date with her?" "No problem." The two mechanics were out of earshot before Sophia could hear Naylor's grand plan for a date. Huffing out a breath in amusement, she clipped the mask over her face and attacked the inside of the fuel tank again, getting the last bits of Claudia that still clung to the tank. The brief respite had allowed the burnt flakes to settle to the deck, which made it easier to see what was left to scrape off. Once that job was done, Sophia dumped the face mask and her jumpsuit on the deck, to be tossed in the laundry bag later. She hadn't wanted to get Claudia flakes down her shirt, but grease and oil stains on her clothes didn't bother her at all. With the afternoon heating up the flight deck, it was pure pleasure to be in plain clothes. As long as she didn't think too hard about why she was on the Silvana, it was a wonderful way to spend her time, half-swallowed up in the Warlock's reassuring bulk, testing seals and hoses to make sure that they were all still in good condition. It reminded her of the days after she had bought the Warlock at auction, long hot afternoons puzzling out the intricacies of the ship's systems with not another soul around. It had been just her and the Warlock, and she'd felt pure joy the first time she got the engine to start up smoothly. Once she'd left Anatoray, the feeling had changed. There were new pressures on her, driving her forward. She had vowed to find John Bren. That had been one pressure, and with that one solved, she was temporarily content. "What do you think you're playing at?" The man she'd been thinking of had walked up behind her without her noticing, and his voice came as a guilty shock. She jerked back and nearly hit her head against the side of the Warlock, but his hand had already covered the piece of metal, so she ended up hitting that instead. Sophia turned and rubbed her head, more in surprise than pain. His hand had taken most of the force from the blow. "You have impressive reflexes." She said, then choked on her next words. It was Bren, certainly, but instead of a wary captain on his own bridge, he was a grimy mechanic with an exasperated expression and a wrench held loosely in one hand. Desire hit Sophia square in the stomach. She sucked in breath on a sound of shock. "What? I should be the one complaining." He grumbled. She stared at him, alarmed that her reaction was that obvious. He shook his free hand a few times to emphasize his words. "You've got a damn hard head." Sophia scrambled for enough pieces of her composure to cover her sudden, insane reaction to the man. "What do you want?" She asked faintly, because she couldn't for the life of her remember what he had first said. "I want you to step aside and let real mechanics fix the ship, so you'll actually be out of here in a week instead of still sitting here on Banks' flight deck, tinkering with your engine." Bren glowered. Sophia laughed. "Real mechanics? The two that Banks sent to help me have probably never even seen the inside of a vanship before. And I seriously doubt you have any other mechanic on board the Silvana who's any better at repairing the Warlock than I am." Bren still glared at her, but he didn't say anything. "What?" She raised her eyebrows, daring him to contradict her. He sighed and shook his head, the annoyance visibly draining out of him to be replaced with resignation. "You'd be wrong. There's a vanship mechanic better than you on board the Silvana." Chapter 7 "How old is he?" Sophia asked, a disbelieving smile on her face, "The Warlock is at least eighty years old, and he's probably one of the last vanships still operational. This mechanic of yours has to be a great-grandfather at the very least." The silent bulk of the ship behind her gave the lie to her claim of it being operational, but Bren let it slide. "Thirty-two." He said, and her brown eyes widened as she realized just who he meant. She watched him, wary now instead of mocking, but she still didn't believe him. He probably didn't look like the sort of man she was used to believing. Instead of wearing some ambassador's uniform, complete with pointless cultural accessories that no one had actually worn in a hundred years, he was standing in a mechanic's dirty jumpsuit. Without a doubt, he had oil and grease smeared on his face and in his short black hair. He forced himself not to run a hand over his hair and make it worse. "I appreciate your offer, Captain, but I'm confident that I can get the Warlock running on my own." Sophia gave him a tight smile that didn't even attempt to look real. Bren ground his teeth. He was on the verge of pointing out that he was her only option. There was no way she could get the Warlock airborne within the time limit that he gave her. Not without help. But if he was the only mechanic who knew how to repair the Warlock knew the ship itself intimately then he was setting himself up to be the one working alongside her. A great part of him wanted to do just that. There was the attraction of the woman herself, which wasn't insignificant, but it paled next to the consuming desire to get his hands on the Warlock again. He was a damn good captain, but on a ship as big and complex as the Silvana, that simply meant that he was a good negotiator, planner, and manager. It was like being a navi all over again, guiding the ship without ever getting his hands dirty. What he loved to do most was fix something that even the Silvana's mechanics had abandoned as too finicky or complex or pointless to repair. And the Warlock had been all three. He'd loved every moment of getting the ship running so well that Carolina had started to prefer it to her perfect, soulless veloship. When he had finally figured out how to rig the Warlock so that it could be run by only a pilot, he had felt as though the world was at his feet. Then the Warlock had crashed with Carolina in the pilot's seat. Bren hadn't even waited to see if the Warlock could be salvaged. He'd grabbed his clothes and his money and walked away from the entire thing before he could be hounded by hungry media or Anatorayen soldiers. "Is something wrong? Bren?" Sophia was frowning up at him, interrupting his ugly memories. Though she barely knew him, her voice was concerned, and she hovered close, unsure how to help him. At least in that respect, he'd been lucky. She was only superficially like her sister in looks, and completely different in personality. The problem was that she was offering him something he'd deliberately walked away from six years ago. And he was going to take it, too. He looked up at the Warlock behind her, understanding that he was deliberately waking up the past. The resignation was alloyed with anticipation, though. There was the ship, and the woman that came with it. Finally he spoke. "I can't believe your father let you go out in that ship. Any ship." He corrected himself. Sophia shrugged once. "The Forresters have always been pilots." Bren made a sound to indicate he was listening, but he was juggling priorities in his head. Double-checking his options. Something he'd done since he started as a navi and mechanic, years ago. Of foremost importance was the Silvana and her crew. That meant getting the time bomb that was the Princess of Anatoray off the ship as soon as possible. "King Sikandar himself, my father I mean. He used to fly courier missions when he was younger." Sophia continued to tell Bren what he already knew. She had put him in a tight corner with her threats in the negotiation room, so the only way to get her off the Silvana was to give her the information she wanted, repair the Warlock, and hope that everything didn't fall apart the moment she was back in Anatoray. He accepted that the Silvana was not welcome in Anatoray, but to be actively pursued by the Anatorayen military was something he had so far managed to avoid. "Carolina also flew ships, which you know. She was a legendary pilot." Sophia was still talking. There was no other way out. Bren mentally shrugged and finally focused on Sophia's words. "She flew my vanship." He interrupted her in his soft voice. Sophia stopped talking, her mouth hanging open for a split-second in surprise before she shook her head and gave him a sympathetic look. "It was kind of her to share her ship with you. It was probably your first job as navi, right?" Bren gave her an unimpressed look. "You're half-right. I was navi and mechanic. Which is why I know how to repair vanships, this one in particular. It was my ship." Sophia backed up several steps, the sympathetic look wiped right off her face. Now she was on her guard, not wanting to believe him. He wondered if she realized how blatant her movement had been. She was protecting the Warlock. She raised her chin and shook off her momentary unease. "You're lying." He looked beyond her to the Warlock. "I wish I was." He said honestly. "Prove it." She said, as stubborn as Carolina had ever been. "Go check the second engine hatch." He said, and she gave him a suspicious look but went and did as he told. The Warlock's engine hadn't changed much since he last worked on it, but his green eyes noted the repairs that had been done. There weren't many, but at least he could tell that his modifications had been left alone. That pleased him. No wonder the Warlock had managed to make it into the Silvana's docking bay; no unmodified vanship would have been able to. "So what am I supposed to see that will prove that the Warlock's yours?" "Was mine." He corrected her coolly, "Get a rag and wipe off the inside of the hatch cover." "Are you serious? That thing hasn't been cleaned since the Warlock was named." Sophia looked at the black grease in dismay. "This is just some kind of prank, isn't it?" "If you want to know for certain, Pilot Forrester, go get a rag." He watched her stomp away, and he couldn't keep a small smile from his face. Sophia had proven to be a negotiator of the highest caliber, but when it came down to the Warlock, he was learning that she was as prickly as any pilot with a favorite ship. Which was something he intended to ask her soon. Why had she chosen to fly the Warlock? There were dozens of newer ships better ships, he reluctantly admitted that she could have chosen, and the Anatorayen treasury could easily afford to buy her whatever she wanted. "I've got the rag, and some cleaning fluid. Hopefully this will cut some of the grime." Sophia was back, and already heading for the Warlock. Once she'd made up her mind, she never hesitated. "Work from the bottom left corner. The one that's topmost to you." Bren advised, and she grunted and started where he directed. He simply stood and waited. There was a desire to get next to her, pick up a rag, and help her, but that was because he still felt the urge to start working on the Warlock right away. He fought the urge by doing nothing at all. "Huh. There's something under here." Sophia scrubbed harder, "Words, I think. No, a name. Daniel ... Coltrane. Who's Daniel Coltrane?" "The first owner of the Warlock." Bren said. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "Really?" "Keep going." He said, and tapped his comm to open a channel to the bridge. "Status report, Miller." "Everything's running smoothly, Captain. Any orders?" "No, just checking in." He tapped the comm off. Sophia hadn't even noticed what he was doing. She had turned back to the ship and was busy scrubbing at the grime on the metal hatch, trying to read the names beneath it before they were even legible. He realized he was still gripping the wrench that he'd carried all the way down to the flight deck when Banks had reported that Pilot Forrester had refused help from his mechanics. He had been close on the trail of the strange Claudia readings on the admin deck when the Head mechanic had beeped his comm. He mentally discarded the work he'd already done on the admin deck. He could finish it later. For now, he put the wrench into the open toolbox on the floor near the engine compartment, then pulled a rag out of the pocket of his jumpsuit to clean off his hands. He stuffed the rag back in his pocket waited patiently, knowing that Sophia wouldn't even notice him again until she got down to the two names at the bottom of the short list. Chapter 8 "Are you done yet?" Bren's voice came from behind Sophia, soft and amused even over the background noise of the flight deck. "Not yet." Sophia licked her lips behind the welding helmet's dark face plate and carefully brought the electrode close to the metal of the hatch cover. She held her breath as she delicately spelled out another letter. "It took me all of five minutes when I did my name." He pointed out. "Your name is eight letters long. That's hardly a fair comparison." She breathed out slowly, then started on the second R in her last name. Even dressed in heavy protective gear, with a helmet on her head and the crackle of the arc welder in her ears, Sophia could still hear Bren. More importantly, she could practically feel how close he was by the way the back of her neck tingled. She was doing her best to ignore the sensation, but she was still unnerved by the sight of his name neatly written above her sister's on the Warlock's engine hatch cover. There had been the likelihood that he had been in the Warlock before, had perhaps even sat in the navi's chair once or twice while Carolina flew the ship. But he hadn't seemed to recognize the Warlock at all, nor her, so she had discounted the possibility. Now it turned out that not only did Bren know the ship, but that the Warlock had originally been his. She wanted to reach out to touch the Warlock, to remind herself that the ship was hers alone now, but she could wait until she finished adding her name to the list of owners. She carefully lifted the electrode away from the hatch, shifted her hands in the heavy gloves, then started on the S. The thought of having Bren repair the Warlock was an uneasy one. Sophia had been the only one to touch the workings of the ship since she had bought it. Partly because she'd been very careful to use a cover story to explain her fascination with and her work on the ship. Partly because no one else knew or cared to know how to repair an eighty-year-old vanship. It was only the worst luck that the one man who would know what really happened on the Warlock six years ago also happened to be that same ship's mechanic! She was going to try her hardest not to give him the chance to touch the Warlock, however. She had a plan to get rid of him for the rest of the day, and then she would frantically repair what she could, but the plan would only work once. She planned to think of a new reason to keep him away from the Warlock by the next day, or, with any luck, something else would happen to take up his time. "This gear is really heavy." She said casually, making her voice breathless. Her hand was steady as she finished the last E. "What time is it?" There was a pause as Bren checked, "Nearly time for dinner." "Good thing! I could use a bit of a break." "Let me finish that." His voice came from her right side, and Sophia concentrated on finishing the last letter of her name. "All done." She said, and stepped back, making sure to turn off the welder before she sagged her shoulders. When she lifted the helmet's face plate, Bren had already taken off his helmet and was watching her carefully. She gave him a slight smile as he came forward and took the welder out of her hands. "I apologize. I guess I haven't been careful about getting some rest. I was ... Impatient to talk to you and make my situation known." It didn't take much artifice to sound tired, because she was. It was true that she'd been pushing herself since she left Oriskany dock to find the Silvana. But she wasn't done yet. She'd get some real sleep when the Warlock was up and running once again, and there was no further need for Bren to have his hands on the ship's systems. A primal thrill snaked down her spine at the thought of Bren's hands deep in the Warlock's systems, making the ship run again. Sophia shook her head in disgust at her own sick imagination. "You look tired." He said as he coiled the hose back on to the power supply for the arc welder. "We can start tomorrow." Exactly what Sophia had planned. She nodded. "Thank you." She waited while he finished putting the arc welding equipment and portable curtains back where they belonged and headed for the lift, shedding the thick welding protection as he went. Banks caught up with him before he made it to the left, and the two men had a short conversation that Sophia would have paid money to hear. At least once, Banks looked in her direction. She shucked her own gear with relief she hadn't lied about how heavy the huge welding jacket was either then stowed jacket, gloves, and helmet back in their compartment and climbed into the Warlock to eat some flight rations while she waited for Bren to leave. The smeared windows of the canopy didn't allow her to watch the lifts, but she ate slowly and decided that fifteen minutes was long enough. When she came back down out of the Warlock, both Banks and Bren were gone. Sophia made her way back to the Warlock's engine compartment and glanced at the toolbox on the floor, reacquainting herself with what had to be done. It was then she realized that Bren had left his wrench in the toolbox. She hoped he wouldn't come back for it. She would have a hard time explaining why she was suddenly not tired anymore. Besides, if he stood around any longer looking surly and sexy in a mechanic's jumpsuit, she was going to say something really stupid. Like the truth. *** Bren didn't dash down to the flight deck on the instant that the previous day became the next, but he was up and moving before the sun was above the clouds. The Silvana still flew in darkness. He ate breakfast, staring at the time in the lower right corner of his quarters' viewscreen. After the remains were put back in the dumbwaiter, he couldn't even remember what he had eaten. He left a message on Miller's comm to notify him once she was on the bridge, then headed down to the flight deck, anticipation bubbling in his veins. He expected Sophia to be up and working already, but when the lift doors opened and his eyes went immediately to the Warlock's spot on the flight deck, the ship was still dark. His green eyes picked out the other change in the ship immediately after that. The day before, the Warlock had sat unmoving, the definition of a dead ship. Now it vibrated so slightly that it was imperceptible to the eye, but Bren had been a mechanic for too long not to feel that the ship was alive once more, even from across the flight deck. The Warlock's engine was running. As he walked across the deck, he weighed facts in his mind. There hadn't been all that much work to do on the engine, it was true. And if Sophia was as attached to the ship as she seemed to be, it must have felt eerie to sleep in a dead ship. She would have wanted to repair the engine as soon as possible. But she had seemed tired, and she had every right to be after the last couple days she had been aboard the Silvana. When Bren reached the Warlock, he leaned against the metal side of the ship and tapped his comm. "Bren to flight deck. Who's on duty?" "Uh, sir. Us. I mean Mechanics Howell and Brighton. We're on duty. Do you need anything, sir?" The nervous voice came from what was obviously one of the younger mechanics. Bren smiled slightly. The only time one of the apprentices was put on duty was when all the other mechanics had drunken themselves into oblivion the night before. "Nothing right now. Who's been working on the Warlock?" He kept his voice low just in case Sophia was actually awake inside the ship and listening in on the conversation. "Just the Princess, sir." He sighed once. So much for keeping Pilot Forrester's real identity a secret. "Princess?" "Yes, sir. Banks told us. He said Miller gave orders that we are not to engage Princess Sophia in any conversation whatsoever or we will cause an in-ter-nation-al in-cid-ent." He drawled the words out, coming close to the measured way of speaking that Miller had when she was trying to pound sense into someone's head. So Sophia had done the work on the engine herself. Bren stopped short of jumping to any conclusions, giving the woman the benefit of the doubt until he could ask her why she'd been so eager to get back to work on the Warlock after seeming so exhausted. "That's all I needed to know. Thank you." He closed the channel and looked up at the Warlock's side, up toward the canopy. It was cracked open just enough to let someone lever it up by hand, since the hydraulics weren't yet working. There had so far been no sound or movement from the cabin. Bren remembered wistfully that he could turn the navi's chair and stretch out into the area behind it quite comfortably. He suspected Sophia had done just that. He lightly climbed up the side of the Warlock and hooked his fingers under the canopy, raising it just enough to slide inside the cabin. Sure enough a pair of legs were under the navi's chair, and he recognized the combination of blankets on the floor as being one of the Warlock's old emergency blankets looking far more ragged than he remembered and one of the Silvana's standard blankets. Toward the back of the cabin in the dim light he could see the dark braid of Sophia's hair lying like a rope over the floor. Absently, Bren reached out to touch the navi's chair while he looked down at Sophia's sleeping form and considered his options. His body enthusiastically recommended several ideas that made his breath go out of him in a hungry growl. Beyond taking a couple seconds to regain control over his libido, he ignored the rush of desire. It was just the Warlock doing it to him. He saw a Forrester woman lying on the floor of his ship, and he responded in a way he'd been conditioned to eight years ago. It had nothing to do with Sophia herself, although his brain chose that moment to flash an image of her facing him down over the negotiation table, and his confidence faltered. Bren growled again, this time in annoyance. He was here to fix the ship, not screw the pilot. "Wake up." He reached down to shake Sophia's shoulder roughly, "Time to get up." His head snapped back as a gun suddenly appeared in front of his face, almost shoved up his nose. Sophia's eyes focused on him, and she tilted the gun away so it wasn't pointing at him. "Next time just yell. From outside the Warlock." She said in a voice heavy with sleep. Nevertheless, her hand on the gun had been steady as a rock. "Right." Bren stepped back and clenched his hands into fists, willing the adrenaline firing through his body to slow. "You've got fifteen minutes to meet me outside the ship before I start working on electrical." Sophia yawned and rubbed sleep out of her eyes, "You're cranky in the morning." Bren climbed out of the Warlock with exquisite care and sat on his heels on the flight deck in the shadow of the ship, taking deep breaths and feeling the pounding of his heart as it slowed to normal. He'd been facing down pirates and hostile clients as the Silvana's captain almost from the moment he had gained control of the ship, but no one had pulled a gun on him in years. Chapter 9 Bren had barely started to look over the Warlock's engine when he heard Sophia slide down the side of the ship and race toward him. "Don't touch that!" She snapped, even before she'd rounded the ship to see what he was doing. From the looks of her, she had barely thrown on clean clothes and washed up before she had come rushing to make sure that he hadn't touched her precious ship. He stepped back and spread his hands out. Even she could see that they were still clean. He hadn't touched a thing. She had the good sense to at least look discomfited. Bren smiled slightly, though he was still bothered that she had nearly shot his head off. "Pardon me." Sophia rubbed her hands over her face and yawned, "I didn't mean to insult you. I was simply concerned that you might..." Her eloquence failed her. "That I might blow up the Warlock? I think you did a good enough job of that." He said, looking her over more closely. She looked as tired as she had when he had left her the day before. How much had she slept? "I see you've got the engine running." "Yes. It felt ... strange with the engine off." She dug in her pockets, pulled out a fast protein bar and started to eat it. She deftly inserted herself between Bren and the ship and looked over the engine compartment. "It's running fine." He said, "Was there any damage?" She chewed and swallowed, then spoke. "Not really. I just had to figure out what the purity of your Claudia supply was and adjust the mixture to the Warlock's specifications." "You could have stopped long enough to eat. I said fifteen minutes, not fifteen seconds." Bren walked along the Warlock's side, never coming close enough to touch the ship, but not far enough away to make Sophia comfortable. He could tell by the way she sidled along beside him, trying to keep herself between him and the ship without making it obvious what she was doing. "Well I slept so long, so I didn't want to keep you waiting." She said brightly, and Bren made a sound of disbelief. "What?" "You claim to have slept all night, yet you got the engine working. What did you do, wake up in the middle of the night with a burning need to do some work?" "Something like that." Sophia stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest so she could dig her fingertips into the line of stitches along her left forearm. "I never claimed to have slept all night. I just said I slept a long time. And I said sleeping in the Warlock without the engine running felt strange. Was there anything else you wanted to interrogate me on, Captain Bren, or are you going to tell me about my sister?" She looked surprisingly fragile with the marks of sleeplessness under her eyes and wisps of hair escaping her braid. She stood poised to defend herself from anything he might say, but Bren was starting to realize that she would hound him worse than her father's army ever could. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he looked at her again, she was still waiting, still digging at her arm. "You shouldn't do that." He nodded toward her, "It'll only make it worse." She gave him a disgruntled look, "It itches." "Suit yourself." Bren felt a little disgruntled, himself. He was more than willing to do or say anything the woman wanted, as long as she let him in the Warlock. It was as though all his resistance had vanished the instant he'd stood in the ship's cabin and looked down at the pilot. He resented how easily both woman and ship had overcome his vow to never look back. He drew in a slow breath and looked up at the Warlock, focusing his attention on the ship rather than Sophia. "Your sister was about eighteen when we first met. I was twenty-three. I'd started to make a name for myself, doing minor courier assignments. She was just learning to pilot ships." He smiled a little. She may have just started flying, but it hadn't taken long for her to become one of the best pilots in Anatoray. By the time Bren had met her, Carolina was already in love with flying. She had been a laughing whirlwind, a force of nature that had drawn him in faster than his common sense had pulled him away. "I don't care about that. I want to know about the last assignment you took." Sophia's impatient voice interrupted his musing. He said the first thing that came to mind. "You aren't much like your sister." She glowered back at him, "Are you trying to avoid telling me what happened?" Bren's eyebrows slanted down, "Are you accusing me of having a part in your sister's death?" Sophia seemed to realize what she had said. Her mouth thinned, and she took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke again, it was in a tone closer to the one she'd used on him in the negotiation room, formal but empty. "I beg your pardon again. I am not at my best in the morning, as you can see." She lowered her eyes and studied the ground at Bren's feet. "And naturally I am not reasonable when it comes to my sister's death. Perhaps we should have this conversation later." Bren would have felt sorry for her, but he still remembered the previous morning with brutal clarity. It was time to see just how far Pilot Forrester could be pushed before she snapped. "How about you sit and rest while I work on the Warlock? I can tell you what I remember while I work." She didn't lift her head, but he saw the way her body stiffened, nonetheless. There was at least one weak spot in Sophia's armor. She was inexplicably attached to the Warlock. "That would be nice. But I'm sure you've got a dozen things requiring your attention on the Silvana." "Not a thing. I'm all yours." That brought her head up sharply, and Bren allowed himself a momentary smile. "We can stand here all day and trade lies, or you can tell me why you don't want me touching the Warlock." "Because he's mine." Her chin came up, and she stepped back once as if to enforce her claim. It was an amusing image, considering the ship towered over her, nearly swallowing her up in its shadow. "I'm not going to take it from you, even if I owned it before you did." He said mildly, but that didn't seem to have any impact on her obstinacy. "Do you ever compromise, or are you always this inflexible? Must make negotiations hard for everyone at the table." He nodded toward where she stood ready to defend the vanship with her body. That shot hit home. He wasn't sure exactly what part of his accusation caused her to flinch, but it was enough that he'd finally gotten past the consummate negotiator to the woman herself. "Ouch. Okay." She said, holding her hands up. "I admit I may have put you in a bad position." "Wrap your pretty lips around the word blackmail." He said bluntly. Sophia blinked, "Ah, well, I wouldn't go so far as that, but you might see it that way. I have nothing against you personally, Bren." "That doesn't make me feel any better. I want you off the Silvana. You want the Warlock repaired. So sit down and let me repair it, and I'll tell you what I know." She hesitated, and he stepped closer to her, putting a hand against the gently humming side of the ship so he could lean over her, "You placed your life in my hands the minute you slid your ship across the Silvana's flight deck, Pilot Forrester. Since I haven't let Banks toss you off the ship, why don't you try trusting me?" If he hadn't been watching for it, he would have never noticed the spark of desire that momentarily shot through her body. He kept his hands where they were, but he was sorely tempted to crowd her closer against the ship and take her up on the promise in her widened eyes and shortened breath. Then she rolled her shoulders once and was back to normal, acting as though nothing had happened. She looked straight up at him as she finished the last bite of her protein bar, not backing down but not going on the attack either. Her brown eyes were direct as she thought about what he said. She took a deep breath. "You make a valid argument; I may have misjudged you. I'm willing to try working with you on my ship. And you can call me Sophia. As I learned from the arc welding yesterday, Forrester is quite a mouthful." She added wryly. Bren nodded slowly, surprised and oddly pleased that she had chosen to trust him. He'd been judging her by her sister again. Perhaps she'd been judging him by a similar standard, which would explain why she confessed to reading him wrong. He eyed the wrapper she stuffed into a pocket, "I suggest you get some real food, and then we'll look at seals and hoses. I'll bet the crash probably loosened up quite a few." He caught her rolling her eyes as she turned away to get a pair of gloves from the belt of her jumpsuit. "I'll be fine." She stuffed her hands in the gloves and walked back to the engine hatch. "We're starting from the engine and moving out, I assume?" Bren pulled on his own gloves and ducked under the hatch to look at the engine humming away to itself. "Yes. If you insist on sleeping in the Warlock, we should get electrical running; that's the first big power draw. I don't want Claudia spilling from loose hoses when we start turning things back on. I'll take primary, since you probably want to do backup." Sophia was already inspecting the left side of the engine, and Bren felt a surge of satisfaction. She'd chosen backup before the word was out of his mouth, and there hadn't been any more excuses to get him away from the ship. Chapter 10 Sophia was concentrating on her own work, inspecting the termination of hoses and their seals for any sign of wear or loose connections. There had been only a couple so far, and they'd been easy to fix, but now she was starting to forget which hoses she had checked and which she hadn't. Her short-term memory was failing her. She slipped off one of her gloves and pushed her fingertips against her closed eyes, trying to rub away the burning weariness that had taken up residence behind them. In the background, she could hear Bren talking in that soft voice of his that she couldn't seem to ignore. His first officer had given him reports on the status of the Silvana over his comm, and the two had been discussing it for quite some time now. She'd learned a lot from the conversation, even if she couldn't hear half of it. She'd learned that the Silvana was about a thousand times more complex than the Warlock. She wondered why Bren bothered to do any repairs at all. He had a half-dozen mechanics, and while they were never at rest, it was obvious even from across the flight deck that they were tinkering with some of the ships instead of doing real work. She drifted closer to the sound of his voice, assuaging her need to check on his work. He didn't even notice her presence. He was half-crouched in the depths of the ship, his hands skimming over hoses as he listened to his first officer talk. Sophia realized with a start that he'd taken off his gloves and his bare hands were moving lightly over the hoses that carried infused Claudia from the engine where it was mixed to various systems that required power. His touch was confident; he never paused or rechecked his work, even while he was talking. She leaned against the outside of the Warlock for a moment and closed her eyes, fighting the rush of sensual awareness that flooded her body. He couldn't have gotten to her faster if those same hands were touching her instead of the Warlock. Why this man? She berated herself silently. Why couldn't she be attracted to Banks or Naylor, or better yet, someone who'd never set foot on the Silvana at all! And why in the world did the sight of his grease-covered hands send a jolt of pure lust straight down to her stomach? She could have had her choice of clever ambassadors or minor noblemen, or any man who'd crossed her path since leaving Kyr Castle, clean hands or not. Sophia made a sound of annoyance and straightened up. She'd deal with her unfortunate attraction later, after he'd told her what she wanted to know. Once she had the information about Carolina's death, she'd be free to seduce her sister's ex-mechanic. Provided he didn't throw her off his ship first. "Any response from Essex dock on my request?" She heard Bren clearly as she climbed into the Warlock behind him. Whatever the response was, it didn't please him. "Tell them they've got until we leave dock to come up with the people I want. We're carrying enough trouble without being forced to fly blind." He heard her moving behind him, and shifted slightly so he could look at her over his shoulder, his green eyes assessing her even as he finished talking. "Something's come up. Bren out." "You didn't need to stop because of me." She nodded toward the collar of his jumpsuit that was filthy from where he'd turned off his comm connection. "I don't think you're in much danger of me staging a revolt and taking over the Silvana." "Mmm." His hands were stilled while he looked at her. The moment stretched out, making her uneasy. "What?" "Nothing. To be blunt, I'm more concerned about the Silvana being attacked because you're on it." "Don't worry about it." She said airily, settling herself gingerly against a column that curved into the side of the Warlock, criss-crossed with wiring and tubes. Now that she wasn't concentrating on her work, she remembered that she was exhausted. She caught the slight smile that Bren gave her. "Despite your reassurances, I think I'll continue to keep an eye out for raiders." "Legal or otherwise?" He inclined his head toward her with grave politeness, agreeing with what she did not say. It would be a coup to capture Anatoray's princess, which would attract pirates. But it would also be a valuable bargaining chip with King Sikandar to claim you'd rescued his daughter from pirates. Painting John Bren as the aggressor would be easy. She shrugged once. That wasn't her problem. Nor was she about to tell him exactly why he was in no danger. He'd been angry enough when he realized how she had outmaneuvered him in the negotiation room. She smothered a yawn with her hand. "So what do you want, Sophia?" Bren asked evenly, "To check my work? Are you done the backup system already?" "No, no." The truth was she didn't know why she'd been drawn to Bren, or why she was half-slumped against the column, trying to find a reason to stay. "I thought it might be a good time to take a break?" Even in her own ears, the excuse was weak, and she saw Bren's green eyes narrow in speculation. He turned in the tight space, still bent almost double, and gestured for her to precede him out of the ship's innards. Once they were out under the unflinching white lights of the flight deck, he got a closer look at her face. "Break, hell. You're almost asleep on your feet. Go get some sleep." He pointed toward the pilot's cabin, and Sophia felt the urge to laugh. He looked like a dirty, sexy nanny. She opened her mouth to ask he if was going to tuck her in, and that brought home to her just how tired she was. She was close to the edge of her self-control. He took her hesitation as suspicion and gave her an exasperated look, "I'm not going to do anything to your precious ship while you sleep, but I plan to finish checking these seals whether or not you're here." Sophia winced, even though his words had not been harsh. "I seem to spend a lot of time apologizing to you." She tucked her gloves in the belt of her jumpsuit and rubbed her hands over her face to cover another yawn, "I wasn't suspicious of you. If you get done the primary system before I wake up, go ahead and look over the backup as well. I'm not sure what I finished and what I didn't catch." He searched her face for a moment, then nodded once, "Right. I'll finish up the seals and then start opening up Claudia flow to some of the electrical system. Make sure you've got everything turned off in the cabins." He went to give her a push to get her going, but checked himself when he saw how dirty his hands were, "Damn." That made Sophia chuckle, and she started for the front of the Warlock on her own. *** Sophia slept sweetly, lulled into darkness by the gentle thrum of the Warlock's engine. She only intended to get an hour or two of sleep, but when she checked her chrono the moment she woke up, several hours had passed. It was late afternoon, almost evening. She groaned and dragged herself up out of the mess of blankets. She could hear Bren's voice rising and falling outside the Warlock and wondered how he managed to make himself heard, when his voice was so quiet. It was one of those verge-of-wakefulness mysteries that she abandoned almost as soon as she thought of it. She climbed out of the cabin and made her way carefully down to the deck. She was still feeling too groggy to slide down the side of the ship like she usually did. She followed the sound of Bren's voice, coming finally to the back of the ship and the engine compartment. Bren and two other mechanics were crowded around the tanks, and Sophia stifled laughter as she finally realized what he was saying. "The trick here is to remember that vanships don't regulate their own Claudia mixes. That means you have to know what the optimal mixture is for infused Claudia." "You're kidding." Naylor shook his head, "What about the systems that use different infusions? Please tell me they self-regulate." Bren laughed softly, and Sophia stopped to listen to the sound of it. "You wish. This is all old tech, Naylor. Very old tech. It's like riding a fireball. Get the mixtures wrong and you could explode in mid-flight." Banks shook his head in disgust, "And you want me to keep this piece of trash on my flight deck? What's to stop it from blowing up right here, and taking us all with it?" "Nothing but pure genius." Bren patted the fuel tank behind him with obvious affection, "Vanships are still one of the most versatile ships to fly, precisely because the infusions are only dependent on human controls." "Stop flirting with my ship." Sophia said wryly, and all three men turned to look at her with varying expressions of guilt or surprise. "I expected you to sleep longer." Bren said, stepping away from the Warlock slightly. He didn't look as guilty as Naylor and she knew very well why the mechanic was hovering around the Warlock - but there was a note of defensiveness in his voice. Sophia shook her head and smiled at him, "You can relax. Anyone who loves vanships as much as you do wouldn't dare damage the Warlock. Go back to your lesson, Professor Bren." He wiped his hands on a rag, "Class is over for now. You two go find something to do." "No, wait." Sophia said quickly before the two mechanics excused themselves, "I've got to go clean up anyhow and get some dinner. I'm not going to do anything on the Warlock for a while. Please don't stop because of me." There was a long silence, and Sophia could tell that Bren was trying to decide if she really did trust him or if it was some deeper game she was playing with him. "I'll just get my things from the cabin, and then I'll go. I'll be back in an hour." She headed back around the ship before Bren could think of a reason to deny himself the obvious pleasure he took in talking about vanship maintenance. Chapter 11 Bren was deep into the arcane workings of Claudia infusion measurements when he noticed that Sophia had returned. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw her, that short braid of hers swinging in time with her hips as she walked toward him and the Warlock. By the time he could see her face, he could read the amusement in her expression. She was laughing at him. He admitted to himself that he did tend to get carried away when it came to vanships. The Warlock had been his first big investment. The first ship that had been truly his. Perhaps if it had been a veloship or a barge he might be extolling the virtues of those types of ships even now. "Okay, so how can you tell the difference between spent Claudia and a mix that's too low?" Banks took another pull of his beer, staring at the gently bubbling blue-green liquid that pumped out of the engine and into the rest of the ship. There was a crate of beer bottles at his side, half of them empty. Bren looked down at the bottle in his own hand and fought the urge to put it behind his back so that she wouldn't see it. He should have known better, even from what little time he'd known the woman. Her eyes missed nothing. She looked at him, then at Banks and Naylor, then at the engine. Then she grinned and reached into the crate to grab a beer for herself. She gave him a mocking little salute with the bottle and sat down on a riser next to Naylor. "For a man who's only fixing my ship because he wants me off his, you do seem to be taking your time, Captain." He gave her what he hoped was a withering look. "For a woman who's ship is as airworthy as a rock, you do seem to want to push me, Princess. And don't scratch that." He added as she raked her fingers over the stitches once again. "It itches." She turned to Naylor, who'd been trying valiantly to keep up with Bren's lecture on Claudia infusions, "Does he mother everyone on the Silvana like this?" Naylor grinned, "I'm not saying anything in front of him. Ask me later. In private." Bren was about to say something sharp to Naylor, but Sophia shook her head at the mechanic. "Too easy. If you're going to try for a date, you'll have to work harder than that." "Ouch. So you heard me that time." Naylor winced and went back to his beer. Bren relaxed a little. If Sophia was interested in Naylor, it wasn't apparent. Either she was playing it very cool, or she wasn't interested at all. "Shouldn't you be drinking, I don't know, something expensive from one of those little pinkie glasses?" Banks seemed to be taken aback by the way Sophia had made herself comfortable and was even now drinking her own beer with every evidence of pleasure. Bren settled himself against the side of the Warlock, feeling strangely like he had come home while Sophia teased his mechanics. "Lure of the forbidden." She said succinctly, swinging the bottle from her fingertips as emphasis, "If you've been drinking something expensive from little pinkie glasses they're called tasting glasses, by the way since you first learned to walk, the first thing you're going to want when you're free is a beer." Banks thought about that for a long moment. "Yeah, I can see that." Bren didn't say anything, but he'd focused on her words. Free? Carolina had used that word too. She'd been kept on a short leash as the future Queen of Anatoray, and the time she was flying was the first time in her life she'd been free of the watchful eyes of her guards and guardians. It had been only one more reason for her to fly. He thought that King Sikandar must have gone easier on Sophia. She was second in line to the title third, before Carolina had died and she was here, on the Silvana. That alone had made him assume that her upbringing had been more lenient. But she'd used the same word that her sister had. And although she was nowhere near as flamboyant as Carolina, she had the same pleasure in small, forgettable rituals of daily life. Of freedom. "Do you love to fly?" He found himself asking her. She looked up in surprise at the sudden change of topic. "Of course. It's in the blood. Although I'm perfectly content spending an afternoon fixing up an old ship. Or a week, given the time." Her eyes went to the ship behind him, and her mouth curved in a slight smile. Banks wasn't impressed, "So you aren't an expert at either." "I didn't blow up your flight deck, so I must be pretty good." She shot back at him, although it was obvious that she was only teasing the head mechanic. "You didn't kill yourself doing it, so you must be damn lucky." Bren interjected coolly, and Sophia winced and nodded once in his direction. "Point made, Captain. I suppose that means the break is over." She drained the last of her beer and put the empty bottle in its slot in the crate. "I'll go inspect the wiring for backup life support and look for any obvious problems before we try to bring it online. See you later, gentlemen." She headed for the cabin, and Bren was immediately sorry he had put an end to her enjoyment. He shook his head. Sophia was definitely getting to him. "She's right. Class is over. We'll pick this up tomorrow, if you're still interested." He directed the last sentence toward Naylor pointedly, but the man was unrepentant. "I'll be here. I figure it's my best chance at a date. My bottle of Disith brandy certainly isn't going to do it." He gave Bren a cocky grin and sauntered back to his own work. "It shouldn't be too hard to chemical weld the closures on his jumpsuit closed." Bren mused aloud. "Do it on your own time." Banks gave him a disgusted look, "In case you forgot while you were making love to the engine, you're a captain, not a mechanic." "I hear you." Bren sighed and drained his own beer. He'd been waving it around half-full while he illustrated the art of Claudia measurements in vanship engines, half the time forgetting that he had the bottle in his hand at all. He handed the bottle to Banks, "I should just fix the damn ship and stuff her in it, then let you push it off the flight deck." "Yeah, you should. It's fine with me that your dirty little secret is that you're a damn good mechanic, but once someone like her gets hold of that information," Banks jerked his head in the direction of the cabin, "You're fucked." Bren winced. Banks was right. It was a well-known secret on the Silvana that the captain was a grease-monkey in his spare time, but he'd pay for that knowledge at the negotiation table if their clients ever found out. "You don't trust her? No, don't answer that. Stupid question." He ran a hand through his black hair and eyed the crate of beer bottles with a certain amount of annoyance. When had it shown up, anyhow? One minute he was working on seals and hoses, the next he was lecturing about vanships, a bottle in his hand. "Get rid of that, please." He indicated the crate as he headed for the cabin to see how Sophia was doing. The sooner the Warlock was fixed, the sooner he could get on with his life and back to being a captain. *** "Captain?" Bren tapped his comm on to open the channel to Miller. "Bren here. Report." He had an amp probe in one hand and was trying to track a power loss in the life support system, stretched out half under the navi's console. Sophia was crouched near his feet, running a new cable into the console itself to replace the one that had burned out completely from one end to the other when it had overloaded. "Have you checked the time recently, Captain?" There was an edge in his first officer's voice that made Bren pause before jiggling the probe farther into the nest of wires to get it around the one wire he wanted to test. "Not recently. Why? We haven't docked yet. You would have told me." Sophia's head appeared over the edge of the console, "Do you want me to wait outside while you talk?" She asked in a whisper. He shook his head at her and gave her leg a nudge with his knee to get her to go back to work. For all that she'd put him and the Silvana in a tight corner, she was surprisingly good company, and more considerate of the various interruptions of his job than he had expected her to be. "If you look out of the docking bays, Captain, you'll notice that it's dark above the clouds. And you have not eaten since morning, as far as I can tell." Bren grinned suddenly in the privacy of the console's shadow. Miller was annoyed. He could tell by the way her voice snapped, and the fact that she'd conspicuously called him Captain every time she'd spoken. "I'll grab something. Anything to report?" "Yes, sir. My Captain's an idiot who's chasing tail instead of working, according to the Head mechanic." "Acknowledged. Bren out." He chuckled and slid out from under the console to meet Sophia's curious look. "Miller makes sure I don't get distracted." He explained. She sat in the navi's chair and put her elbows on the armrests, looking over her steepled fingers at him with an impudent smile. "Distracted from chasing tail?" He shrugged and got to his feet, "Sounds like Banks is just annoyed that I'm still down here in his domain. I'm supposed to be up on the bridge, not running tame on the flight deck like an extra mechanic." He searched around for the kit that held the amp probe, and finally found it flung into the pilot's chair. "So being a captain is pretty much like being a princess. Utterly boring." "Until someone slides a ship across my flight deck, sure." He settled into the pilot's chair and turned to face Sophia. He wasn't going to ask her to move. There were too many memories attached to the navi's chair. Even sitting in the pilot's chair, he had a sudden searing memory of holding Carolina's hips and sliding into her heat while she breathed words of pleasure into his hair. He spun the chair around again and stared at the pilot's consoles, fiercely controlling his body's immediate reaction. "I need to get some food." "Sounds like it." Sophia had picked up on the growl in his voice, but either she didn't realize what had caused it, or she was being polite. With her, it could have been either. Bren took a few slow breaths, because there was no way he was getting out of the chair just yet. "I've got food here, if you want. You can tell me about my sister's last assignment on the Warlock while you eat." Again, Bren couldn't tell whether she was only taking advantage of the opportunity that his hesitation had presented, or if she'd engineered the whole thing from start to finish. He gave a sharp bark of laughter, but he wasn't really amused. If he kept hanging around Sophia and her ship, he was going to start questioning his own sanity. "Sure." He said finally, "Might as well get it over with." Chapter 12 "Flight rations." Bren stared down at the food that Sophia put in front of him, his voice neutral, but his expression impossible to mistake. "Been a while since I had to eat these." "So it'll be just like old times." Sophia retorted as she slid back into the navi's chair, swinging it around so that she faced him across the surface of the temporary table. "It has all the required nutrients to keep you going." "And none of the taste. Alright, alright. I'll eat it. Thank you." He took the fork gently from her fist where she'd made a motion to stab him. Sophia was still feeling on edge, and she looked down at her hand with a frown as Bren cracked the package open and sighed in obvious resignation. She had only meant to threaten him playfully with the fork, but her body was taut with strain and it showed in the way she'd reflexively clutched at the fork. It wasn't just that she was finally going to get the information she'd needed for six years. That was a large part of her inability to relax. But there was the not insignificant feeling of sitting in her own ship across from someone who could legitimately claim to be an equal when it came to the Warlock. She'd repaired and run the ship single-handed from the day she'd bought it, even though it was originally designed to be a two-seater. Lucky for her, it had already been altered to be run by someone sitting in the pilot's seat. "Did you rig the Warlock to be a single-seater?" She asked him, the suspicion blooming suddenly in her brain. He looked up from his food to meet her gaze, and there was a spark of humor in his green eyes. "You're welcome." He said gravely. Sophia sat back in her chair, even more unsettled. Every time she thought her life had been changed by luck it kept coming back to this one man. Was it chance that she was attracted to him as well? "Tell me about the assignment." She said, determined to have the information she had risked her reputation, life, and ship for, before she got her head turned yet again by the man. He chewed methodically and swallowed, "If I'd known I was going to be eating flight rations, I would have told Head to leave the crate. So what do you want to know about the assignment? There didn't seem anything strange about it at the time. It was a relatively high-profile courier assignment, but we'd just broken into some more lucrative contracts so it wasn't out of the ordinary." "Who contacted you?" "Lexington Dispatch. We were using a centralized system then. Mmm. Reheated carrots. Once tasted, never forgotten." He tapped his comm and ordered Banks to bring the rest of the beer up to the Warlock. Sophia rolled her eyes as a short argument ensued. The other mechanics had already drunk the rest of the beer, so a new crate had to be opened. "Forget it, then." Bren grumbled and opened a channel to the cafeteria to send down some beer before turning his attention back to Sophia. "What else do you want to know?" She breathed in deeply, "Did anyone ask for Carolina by name?" "All the time." "What?" She stared at him. He gave her an amused look. "Think about it, Sophia. A chance to order around the next Queen of Anatoray like one of your own employees?" She gave him a smile that flickered in and out of existence, "I see. Then you have no idea who the original client was? I've read the job logs at Lexington dock; I know the assignment was to courier a diplomatic message from a company in Kyr to one in Tarawa, but the logs don't state what companies or whether there were special instructions for the assignment." Bren shrugged, "No idea. When you use a dispatch system for assignments, it's all set up so that no one knows who's doing what. It's a security precaution. Safer for everyone that way." Sophia stared at him, "So what you're saying is you don't know who gave you the contract, and you never bothered to find out? Even after your pilot crashed your ship and died?" He pinned her with a green-eyed glare. "You may be older now, but you still aren't grown up. The moment I heard that she was confirmed dead, I knew Sikandar would come after me. I ran, and I never looked back. If I hadn't run, you'd be talking to me in the basements of Kyr Castle right now, or I'd be rotting in an unmarked grave somewhere." She locked eyes with him over the table, trying not to condemn him in her own mind for fleeing, but it was impossible. He'd abandoned her sister, alive or dead. There was a beep from Bren's comm and he tapped it, listened briefly, then went to open the canopy. They hadn't yet brought many systems online so he still had to lift it up manually. He did it a lot more easily than she could. "Thank you." He said to whoever was outside the ship, lowered the canopy, and came back to the table with a carry-all in one hand. When he put the carry-all down on the table, she could see the necks of several bottles of beer inside. Bren pulled out one bottle and popped the top with an easy motion, then raised his eyebrows at her in challenge. "Would you like one, or are you too busy judging me for a situation that you were never involved in?" Sophia shook her head wordlessly, and accepted the bottle he handed her. He popped the top off a second bottle and took a long drink, grimacing as he washed down the bland taste of the rations. Finally he put the bottle on the table. "It was a long time ago, and it was ugly all-round. There's the truth you're looking for. That's it." He spread his hands briefly as if to apologize for his words, but then he went right back to his dinner. That wasn't the end of it, but he was right. And he was, at the heart of him, an honorable man. Sophia put aside her immediate reaction and watched him eat, reaching out for the thousand questions that had driven her to chase the Silvana. "So there was nothing out of the ordinary about the assignment itself. Did anyone approach you about it after you received the message but before Carolina took off?" He shook his head, his mouth full of food. "No one mentioned it at all? And you had no other contracts running? No different cargo? New equipment?" She gripped the beer bottle as she interrogated him, searching for some crack in the shell that protected the past from her eyes. "Nothing unusual. We were always upgrading as we got the money to do it, so there was always new equipment here and there. Why are you determined to find someone at fault for the crash? Things break. You should know that." Sophia sighed once, agreeing with Bren in theory, but not in the least deterred from her goal. "Ignoring the way the newscreens rhapsodized over my sister, how would you describe her ability to fly? Good? The best you've ever seen?" It was in his eyes. He could see what she was getting at, but he didn't like it. He nodded once. "The best." He said softly. "She was driven." "Given that she was the best pilot you've ever seen, is it at all likely that she had a catastrophic failure of systems on the Warlock without managing to land him safely or even send out a comm signal?" Bren looked grim, "Things break." He repeated. Sophia shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "I won't accept that answer, Bren." She pointed to his meal before he could protest, indicating he should eat instead of argue, "No, it's not your responsibility to assuage my need to know. I am fully aware of that. All I expect of you is full disclosure on any question that might give me a lead on the circumstances of your last assignment and her death." "Don't forget your concessions, help to fix the Warlock, and protection from anyone who would try to use you as a diplomatic lever against Sikandar." He added coolly. Sophia ignored the last complaint, knowing that it wasn't yet an issue. "In exchange, you get the privilege of experiencing flight rations again." He blinked a couple times, then laughed. All the resistance that he'd been storing against her vanished as if it had never existed in the first place. Sophia smiled slightly, but didn't let her triumph show on her face. She had him in the palm of her hand now. She let his laughter trail off and continued in a gentler tone of voice, "So the entire assignment was a handful of hours from when you got the word from Lexington dispatch to Carolina taking off in the Warlock, right?" Bren started on the dessert, which was invariably some kind of reconstituted fruit dish. No one had ever been able to figure out what it was supposed to have been modeled on. It was simply fruit mush. "We docked at Lexington the previous afternoon, went out for some R and R, then checked in with dispatch when we got back to the Warlock in the morning. From there, it was no more than half an hour before the Warlock was off the ground." He reached for his beer to wash the fruit mush down while Sophia considered the timeline he'd given her. "So there was really no time between accepting the contract and leaving the dock." She mused aloud, "If anyone sabotaged the Warlock, it was either before you went to Lexington dispatch, or in mid-flight." "Comms were working fine that day. If she was attacked en route, there would have been some record of it." Bren pointed out, and Sophia nodded absently. She knew that as well, she had just wanted to make sure that she'd covered every possible scenario. "So someone in Lexington dispatch betrayed you." She said finally. Sophia expected Bren to argue, but he sat back in the pilot's chair and pushed the finished meal away from him, his eyes focused on the past. "I figured." He said quietly. She felt an unwilling sympathy grow for him. He'd been only a little older at the time of her sister's death than she was now, and he must have feared her father's and her country's wrath. He'd walked away from any chance to know what had really happened, and if he had truly been set up. She folded up the packaging that was left from the meal, putting it in the garbage compartment on top of the other carefully folded remnants of flight rations that were stacked inside. Once the power was restarted, the compartment could process its contents. "You must have had an excellent pre-flight procedure set up. It takes me almost an hour to check everything on the Warlock before I even dare sit in the pilot's seat." When she turned around, he was watching her, and there was an uneasy air to him. "What?" She asked, instinctively recognizing that he'd thought of something that he didn't want to tell her. "Our pre-flight checklist took forty-five minutes." He finally said. Sophia sat down in the navi's chair abruptly, staring at Bren as if sheer intensity would allow her to see what he was seeing as he looked to that one all-important day in the past. "So she left Lexington dock in a ship that hadn't been completely inspected." Bren ran a hand through his hair, obviously feeling pressured, "Yes. It wasn't the first time. Carolina was impatient, so sometimes she lifted off before I could finish my checklist. But she'd never crashed because of a skipped inspection before." Sophia ignored his soft protests, her concentration focused on the thread of possibility that she could practically see in front of her. "And you said you'd arrived the day before, and left the Warlock docked overnight." "Yes." "Unattended?" Bren looked grim, but he answered, "Yes." Sophia licked her lips, "Who was allowed on the Warlock while it was in dock?" "Anyone." He stood up suddenly, sliding his legs out from under the temporary table with a careless ease that came from repetition, even if it had been many years in the past. Sophia let him go, knowing that she was pushing him. He stood and looked out the streaked windows of the canopy. "Lexington dock was open at that time, and we had friends in town. If anyone wanted to get in the Warlock, it was right there. I had two friends of mine, Mike and Darren Evans, who were sharing a room in town, and I'm pretty sure one of them ended up on the Warlock part of that night because the other one had brought a woman up to their room for a couple hours. We had people on the dock itself, even from other ships that were docked at the time, who knew about Carolina's time trials in the Warlock and wanted to see how she'd done it, so they were all over the ship. Hell, even Esterhazy was in and out of the Warlock, and I know he was so scared of Carolina's temper that he used to hold his breath whenever he boarded the ship." "Esterhazy." Sophia repeated flatly. "Sure. He'd been Sikandar's your brother's lover for a couple months at that time, and he seemed to be trying to make Carolina like him. Probably so she would help Sikandar stand up to the king when he found out about the relationship. I felt sorry for the man, if you want to know the truth. She was never nice to him, even from the beginning." His comm must have got his attention, because he raised a hand to tap it on, "Report." Sophia closed her eyes while she listened to him talk to whoever had demanded his attention. She'd gotten the answer she was looking for. At the end of it, it had been the one she'd expected, too. But she hadn't expected the feeling of being punched in the gut when her suspicions were confirmed. "I've got to go. Docking procedures are starting." Bren came back to the navi's chair, then paused as he got a good look at her face, "Sophia? Are you alright?" "Yes. I just realized how late it was." She said, "Go do what you need to. I'll turn in early and think about what you've told me. I'll have more questions tomorrow." She forced herself to give him a smile, added a spark of humor to her eyes to make him believe it. Bren scrutinized her face for a moment longer, then shrugged. "See you tomorrow, then. We'll get back to work on electrical." He hoisted himself over the edge of the ship, and Sophia listened to him slide down the side and land on the flight deck below. When she was sure he was out of earshot, she put her face in her hands. "Damn you, Sik." She muttered, "I knew it was you." Chapter 13 Bren faced Miller's disapproving look squarely, but they'd been working together for so long that she didn't back down, even though he was her commanding officer. "You have engine grease in your hair." She pointed out grimly. He shrugged and gave her a slight smile, "I'm keeping it there as backup in case this docking is too rough." The joke didn't make much of an impression on her. She shook her head and indicated the doorway that lead to his ready room. "Every section has reported in with no problems. We can start locking down as soon as you give the word, sir." She followed him in, and Bren settled himself into his chair. "But first, you're going to shout at me for spending too much time on the flight deck." "I've never shouted at you." Miller took up her usual position, sitting in the opposite chair with her fingers laced behind her head. "No, you haven't. I was thinking of someone else." Bren let out a slow breath. With one thing and another, he'd been spun around a few too many times in the last few days. "I'll be blunt. I think you're in danger, and you're leading the Silvana into danger. You aren't seeing things clearly, and I don't want any of us going down in flames politically or literally because you aren't being as careful about these so-called coincidences as you should." Bren nodded once. "I hear you." "You may be listening, but I haven't seen you come up for air since that vanship showed up on the Silvana's radars. I think you're living an old dream right now, and I don't want the Silvana or her crew to be around if it turns into a nightmare. You're spending time with some powerful people, and the Silvana is only neutral as long as it's not worth anyone's' time to shoot her out of the sky." She stared up at the ceiling, but Bren knew how serious she was. It was a long-standing and lucrative relationship; Bren and Miller complemented each others strengths and weaknesses. She was only telling him the truth, and it was up to him to deal with it. "Start lockdown." He said in his soft voice, then scratched his fingers through his short hair, sighing when he brought his hand down and noticed the black engine grease that Miller had first pointed out. He wiped his hand on his pants. She gave him an amused look out of the corner of her eyes, and he started to chuckle. After a moment, there was a true smile on her face as well. She tapped her comm and sent out a brief instruction on all channels, then tapped it off again. "Talk to me, Bren. I'm asking you to let me help, as your first officer and as a friend." Bren leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "You deserve the full story." Then he stopped, not knowing where to start. "I started repairing and flying ships when I was eighteen. Anatoray had that stupid flight restriction even back then. By the time I was twenty-two, I was running courier missions with Carolina Forrester." "The future queen of Anatoray." "Empress." Bren corrected softly, "She wanted to break with Sikandar's traditionalist ruling style. She had it all planned out, even down to the title she wanted to use once she ascended the throne. We made a decent team. I ran the ships, she flew them. Her name got us some good contracts, and my knowledge of the business got those contracts completed on time, even though a couple at the beginning were designed for us to fail." "Nothing surprising there." Miller leaned back in her chair and put her hands back behind her head. "Then she took off on a contract in the Warlock. Ship crashed, pilot died. I got out of Lexington dock before Sikandar could find me." "The Warlock." Miller said in a neutral voice. "My Warlock." "So this is all just a way to get a ship back?" "No. Pilot Forrester can keep the Warlock. She's done a good job with it." He said, and his voice was mild. He harbored no secret desire to keep the ship for himself, and he could be honest about Sophia's skills. She was a good mechanic, as far as he'd seen of her work. "So what is it, sir? We could drop the ship off the moment we dock at Essex, but instead you're demanding Anatorayen experts and ambassadors. There's one coming, by the way. So is this all about the princess herself?" Bren tapped his fingertips on the table rapidly, but Miller waited for him to speak, "Probably. But why? I don't know for sure, myself. Maybe I feel guilty about what happened to her sister. She was my partner, after all. And lover." He added, remembering the sudden rush of desire that had hit him while sitting in the Warlock opposite Sophia, "Maybe I'm used to hanging around royalty now." "Maybe you just want to screw another mechanic." Miller added bluntly. Bren winced, "There is that." "My unasked for advice is to do it now, before we leave Essex dock. Then leave her and her ship on the ground. Wait. Incoming." Miller added to the end of her suggestion, then paused to listen to the report coming in. "No major problems so far. Someone secured one of the racks in the galley the wrong way." "Happens every time. How close are we to complete lockdown?" Bren said, uncomfortably glad that the conversation had changed back to the operation of the Silvana. He knew he should do exactly what Miller had said. Take what he wanted from the irresistable Sophia Forrester, then leave her grounded. She had the Warlock after all, she could get airborne again without his help. But he also knew he wasn't going to do it. Instinctively he knew it was going to take more than a couple days to find out what he really wanted from the woman. Miller spent a moment checking in with various sections. "About fifteen minutes. Admin is still complaining that their paperwork is going to go all over the deck if we dock now." Bren made a disgusted sound, "They say that every time we dock. Same as the bad rack in the galley. Start docking maneuvers in five minutes." Miller grinned at him, "Yes, sir." *** Sophia was still awake when the Silvana docked. Naylor had invited her to watch the lights of the city of Essex come into view as the Silvana lowered itself from the clouds in the night, but she'd turned green and declined as politely as she could. "How can you be afraid of heights?" He shook his head at her in amazement. "I'm not afraid of heights. I'm afraid of crashes." Sophia took an unconscious step back, closer to the safety of the Warlock, "You go. Enjoy yourself. Don't tell me about it, please." He eyed her with a half-smile on his face, "So much for the romantic night view. How about dinner in Essex? Seafood, maybe? We don't get that unless we're in dock." She didn't have the heart to tell him that seafood was another one of those things that she ate far too much of at state banquets. Flight rations might be a little bland, but they were always the same, and that was still a novelty to her. "That sounds lovely. But first I have to finish working on my ship before your Captain kicks me off his ship." He tried to disguise his utter dismay, but failed. "Uh. Well if you ever want help, just let me know." The offer fell flat because they both knew he wasn't going to be much help even if she did ask. Sophia still smiled warmly and waved him off, going back to her work on the life support system. She should have refilled the impact foam reservoirs and strapped herself into the pilot's seat, because the Silvana didn't dock lightly like the Warlock did. No, the larger ship wallowed and shook once it left the airstream and Sophia flung her arms around the chair and held on for dear life once the Silvana clanged its way to a shuddering stop. Up in the air, it had operated so silently that it had felt as though she were walking on solid ground. But once near the real ground, the Silvana turned into a bolt-shaking wreck. Once the worst of the sudden jolts back and forth seemed to end, she searched around for the punch down tool and went back to laying out wiring to replace ones that had been destroyed by water or by Claudia overload. She would hopefully get life support partially online, then lock the canopy down and get a few hours of sleep. Now that the Silvana was docked, Sophia was in a little more danger than when the ship had been in the air, but she would rely on anonymity to keep her safe. During the brief grace period that she had, she'd repair the Warlock. She was careful not to think beyond that point. She had the Warlock, she had Bren and he was proving to be more than just a distraction, he was fascinating in his own right. She also had the extra protection that the Silvana gave her. Once the Warlock was repaired, there would be things that would have to be done, dangerous words that needed be said. But she would not think about the future until it came to her. Chapter 14 "I can't believe you called the Warlock a garbage scow when the Silvana shakes worse than any operational ship has a right to." Sophia complained. Bren could see the purple smudges under her eyes and the faint lines carved around her mouth, marks of a sleepless night. "It's because the flight engines are off. They're calibrated to not shake the ship." He thought about letting her sleep longer, but when he'd climbed up the side of the Warlock, she'd been awake to open the canopy and complain at him, so it was apparent she wasn't going to get back to bed. "It shakes less on the upper decks. Try using the room we gave you." He suggested. "Forget it." Sophia yawned, "I've almost got life support fully working, so there's no point dragging myself up the lift to living quarters." "It's one deck up." "Shouldn't you be out scaring the mayor or seducing merchants' daughters or something?" Even as she said that, Sophia turned and rolled the blankets out of the way so that they could both work in the cabin. "Miller scares the mayor for me, and the mechanics seduce the daughters. I delegate all the important jobs." He watched her roll her eyes at him, "I'm only here for a few minutes. I wanted to check up on the Warlock before I have to go. The city council has a breakfast meeting scheduled so they can blow sunshine up my ass." She shot him a sympathetic look, and it warmed his gut. Except for possibly Miller, Sophia was the only other person he knew who understood what came under the aegis of diplomacy all the petty details, the discomfort, and most of all, the mind-numbing teeth-grinding boredom. She went to a compartment to retrieve another package of flight rations, cracking the chemical pack precisely along the recommended seam, "Are you going to eat that?" He asked skeptically. "I can open another one if you're hungry." She offered, her face turned away so he couldn't see if she was teasing him or not. "No, one was enough. More than enough." He suddenly felt the need for a beer, even though his breakfast had been fresh food served as a welcoming gesture from Essex city's mayor and ruling council. The Silvana's crew spent a lot of money in town when the ship was docked, and they wanted to make sure that Bren would choose to dock in Essex again when the Silvana returned to the region. Sophia turned around and he caught the smile that tilted the corners of her lips up. He relaxed a little. "Your concessions package did include access to the galley, you know. Our cooks are as good as any restaurant on the ground." She ignored him and sat gracefully in the pilot's chair, forking up bland chunks of meat in spicy gravy as though they were some Anatorayen delicacy served on a solid gold plate. It was an incongruous sight, not only because of the food she was eating, but also because she hadn't done more than wipe dirt and grease off her hands and face, so her arms were still black with grime and her brown hair was dull. Bren closed his eyes and reminded himself to let her eat before he tried to jump her. He couldn't really tell if it was the unconscious grace or the engine grease that attracted him to Sophia Forrester. He was hoping it was the grace. If not, it meant that Miller was right; he just wanted to screw another mechanic. He'd come too far in this life to be sidetracked by any woman that happened to know one end of a wrench from the other. He reminded himself of that forcefully and started looking for something to do so he wouldn't have to watch Sophia's lips open and close over the fork. "Where's the amp probe?" He demanded in a soft growl, then added "Don't get up. I found it." It was in the tools compartment exactly where he'd expected it to be. To distract himself, he started tracking the last few nodes on the life support system that still showed dark on the console. He could feel Sophia watching him while she ate, and it was knowledge that made his body heat and his breath come in a little faster. His hands were as steady as ever, though. He could do vanship repair in his sleep. As it was, he could work on the wiring and still fantasize about Sophia's body in the thin clothes she was wearing now, before she put on her jumpsuit. He shocked his fingers on a live wire and sucked in a breath through his teeth, determined not to curse and give away what had just happened. "Problem?" Sophia asked, as always too perceptive for his peace of mind. "No." He answered shortly, and tapped his fingertips together a few times to make the sting go away. He could see the wires in front of him clearly enough, but in the back of his mind, he was seeing Sophia's hands, heavy in their gloves, moving over the Warlock's systems. In or out of gloves, he wanted her hands on him. Just one fast, hard screw and he was sure his brain would start working normally again. "Are you sure? You look ... distracted." Bren blinked and looked up to see Sophia standing over him. He'd stopped working on the wiring some time ago and had completely given himself over to fantasizing. So much for being able to do repairs in his sleep. He rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, wanting to take off his glasses and rub his eyes, but his fingers were already dirty. He wracked his brain for an explanation that wouldn't reference his growing need to have her. "Bren?" "Captain!" Saved by the comms. Bren scooted back from the wiring and pulled the rag out of Sophia's pocket that he knew would be there. He ignored her squawk of surprise and wiped his fingers so he could open the channel and answer Miller. "Bren here." "I know you're there, Captain. Because you aren't here." He could hear the seething irritation in his first officer's voice, "You've got five minutes to get on deck before the city council shows up for their regular meet and greet. Are you even dressed, or have you got a jumpsuit on and a wrench in your hand?" While Miller had been getting increasingly angry as she spoke, Bren had climbed to his feet and handed the amp probe to Sophia, then grabbed the top closure on his jumpsuit. With a few quick movements, the jumpsuit was at his feet, "I'm dressed, and headed for the fifteen deck. Meet me there." "I already am here! And I know that was a jumpsuit you just took off!" "Bren out." He tapped the comm off and undid the closures that kept the jumpsuit closed around his ankles, then went and tossed it out of the Warlock's cabin. "You forgot something." Sophia said from behind him, her voice subdued. He glanced back at her, "What? I'll use grease cleaner and wash my hands in the lift." She gave him a slow smile, "Your shoes, Bren." He looked down. Sure enough, he was wearing heavy, reinforced boots. They didn't match the precisely tailored Captain's dress uniform that he wore. "Damn. Too late to do anything about it." He carefully picked his way down the side of the Warlock, resisting the urge to slide down as he usually did. When he hit the deck, he noticed that his jumpsuit had already started to shimmy toward the Warlock's underbelly. "Hey." He called up, to find that Sophia was peering over the edge of the forward cabin at him. In the shadow of the bright deck lights, her face looked as tired as he knew she must be, "Grab my jumpsuit before it gets wound around your landing gear, then go up to your room and get some sleep." "Is that an order? That uniform is going to your head." She observed. He could see her smile, but her voice lacked its normal tartness. "Consider it an armed suggestion." Bren checked the time, "I can't stay any longer. If I get a report from Banks saying that you worked on the Warlock before noon, I'll have you thrown in the brig with a pillow." "Oh go be diplomatic at the city council." She waved him off, "You obviously need the practice." Bren checked the time again and knew he didn't have any choice but to go. Hoping that Sophia had at least some sense, he headed for the lift, his boots making loud noises as he walked across the shuddering flight deck. He really should have remembered to bring proper shoes. Miller was going to kill him. *** When Sophia was shocked by the same wire that had bit Bren, she knew it was time to pay heed to his suggestion and get some sleep. Both of them had been running odd schedules ever since she arrived. She was scrambling to get the Warlock airworthy again, and her body was still trying to recover from the crash. He was juggling his duties as captain of the Silvana with helping her work on the Warlock. She smiled a little and glanced toward the jumpsuit that she'd retrieved and hung over the edge of the cabin. It was barely dirty at all obviously he'd come straight to the Warlock that morning after getting dressed in the jumpsuit. In a small way, she felt a little guilty. Not for forcing him to keep her on the Silvana. But she'd never imagined that his weak point would be the Warlock, her own ship. It was clear as glass to her; even though he felt no further claim of ownership to the Warlock, he still couldn't stay away. He loved to tinker with the ship, even more than she did. She realized she'd been daydreaming as she lay on her back and looked up at the deck lights through the half-open canopy. With a sigh she got to her feet and stowed her tools. Definitely time for a shower and a nap if she was spending more time thinking about Bren than the Warlock. She was determined to stick to her current plan. First the Warlock, then Bren. Every time she thought that, however, she kept shortening her list of absolutely necessary systems that had to be operational before she acted on her interest in the green-eyed captain. When she'd seen him standing in the cabin, dressed half as captain and half as mechanic, her list had lost several more systems. "I need sleep." She told herself grimly. She only hoped she'd regain her sanity before she woke up. Chapter 15 Bren stood on the flight deck and stared up at the Warlock, unable to believe what he was seeing at first. But the cabin was closed and Banks had volunteered the information that Pilot Forrester had finally known what was good for her, and had headed for the lifts early that morning. She hadn't yet returned. "Amazing." He murmured, feeling a surge of satisfaction after a long tiresome day dealing with ground politicians. "She can be trained." There was a certain temptation to scale the side of the Warlock and search through it, looking for information that Sophia was hiding. He ignored the urge for the moment. He now knew she'd lied to him at least once. What little information that the people at Essex dock had managed to amass about Anatoray showed that Princess Sophia Elen Delgrada Forrester was at a religious retreat and had been for the last year. That could simply be the current story that was being told to anyone who asked, but Sophia hadn't said that. Instead she'd threatened him and the Silvana. He should have still been angry about that; only a couple of days had passed since she'd dropped it in his lap. But after dealing with the pointless dance of diplomats all day, Bren was disposed to view Sophia's blackmail as more honest. Once Bren had established that Sophia had gone up to get some sleep, he intended to take the lift to the health deck and work out the aches from standing and sitting all day without any real exercise. But somehow the lift stopped one deck above the flight deck and Bren found himself in front of the door to the only occupied room. It was a minor running joke on the Silvana that they kept such great guest quarters and no one seemed to want to use them. The truth was that Bren didn't like ferrying people. They were difficult to predict, and had a tendency to accidentally break things, wander into dangerous areas, and frequently entangle the Silvana in the kind of contentious politics that Bren always avoided. He considered the idea that she might still be asleep, then shrugged and knocked anyway. If she didn't answer, he'd head to the health deck. The door opened after a moment, and Bren knew exactly why he'd found himself in front of her door. Showered and rested, Sophia looked back at him with the spark back in her brown eyes. She was measuring him and daring him at the same time. Bren's mood lightened further. "Can I come in?" He asked, trying to keep the growl of desire out of his voice. She raised her eyebrows at his tone, but opened the door wider and let him into the room. He went to the one comfortable chair in the room. Sophia settled herself on the only other chair; the one that had been tucked under the table. "I'd ask if you had fun, but I can see that you didn't. Have you eaten dinner?" She asked casually. "Mostly I drank it. Someone kept giving me plates of things with tails, and I lost my appetite." He said, relaxing into the chair. "Yes, I know they're just crabs with the shells still on them, but I prefer my food lacking in identifiable parts. I hate docking." He added and let his head fall against the back of the chair, his arms dangling over the chair's stuffed arms. "Why do you do it, then? Enduring the politicians and the food with identifiable parts?" He listened to the small noises associated with her getting up and pouring the glass of water that she pressed into his hand. "Drink. It's not much, but it's all I've got here." "Thanks. And I do it for the money. Running the Silvana is just as much of a high-profile job as being mechanic to the future queen of Anatoray was." "You don't seem the kind of man that would seek out that kind of job." She mused. Bren opened his eyes and regarded her with a slight smile, "You'd think that, but it works out well. They come to see the Silvana for the spectacle, but they give me the contracts because they know I'm reliable." "That makes sense." Sophia crossed one arm in front of the other to rub at the stitches along her forearm as she looked at the closed door, "But back to more important matters. You haven't eaten, and you've had to put up with idiots all day." "Are you inviting me to dinner?" Bren asked. She glanced down at him, a rueful look in her eyes, "I suppose I am. It's a habit that was drilled into me from acting so many years as an ambassador. I can't stop myself from making sure everyone has food, drink, and comfortable beds." He gave her a long, deliberate look. There was no mistaking what she'd said. "I'll take you up on the last one." He rose slowly, giving her time to back away, to take back her words, but Sophia stood her ground. The room was small enough to allow him to reach behind her and put the empty glass on the table without touching her. When he pulled back to look into her face again, she was watching him with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. "But you should have dinner first." Sophia murmured, her protest about as perfunctory as one could be. When he slid his fingers along her jaw and into her hair, she made a sound of pleasure and swayed into his body without resistance. "Later." He promised, bending his head to kiss her. When he tasted her mouth, she was passive for only a surprised instant before she seemed to go up in flames. She grabbed his arms and raised herself up on her toes to kiss him back, demanding more. The kiss went from seductive to aggressive in a heartbeat as they fought each other for control. Bren finally won by tilting her head back and breaking the frenzied kiss. His lips wet from Sophia's tongue, he raked his teeth lightly against her neck while she backed up just far enough to get her hands between their bodies. Her fingers danced over his uniform, finding closures almost at random and clicking them open. By the time she had his uniform open enough to touch his skin, he'd already pushed her shorts and panties down to her ankles and her shirt up to her shoulders. They were both silent except for the rush of quickened breath and the gasp and sigh of pleasure. Bren took one step back, taking Sophia with him as he fell back into the chair. She came with him easily, her knees on either side of his thighs and her attention focused on the last few closures. When they clicked open and she finally wrapped her fingers around him eagerly, he groaned out loud. The sound seemed to give her pause, even as far-gone with desire as she was. She licked her lips, "The Warlock ... I should finish life support..." "It can wait." Bren said roughly. He slid a hand up the inside of her thigh and stroked his fingers into her, his thumb circling the sensitive bit of flesh above. "Right. It can wait." Sophia agreed, the sentence broken up almost past recognition as she shook and swayed to his touch. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and kissed him wetly, feverishly as he brought her to orgasm. As she went over the edge, he spread his hands over her buttocks and slid smoothly into her body. He couldn't help but groan again when her heat enveloped him. Though she growled at him for moving his hand away, the first thrust threw her back into ecstasy. Bren could only manage a few strokes into her tight, shuddering body before his own climax overwhelmed him. There was a long, lazy silence as he let his head rest on the back of the chair, his hands slack on Sophia's hips. She'd slumped forward so that her forehead was against his collarbone, and her breath ran hot over the hair on his chest where his uniform gaped open. For the moment, Bren was sated. Then the adrenaline slowed and he could feel how the material of his uniform had pulled the remaining closures taut. Those included the final one in the collar, which meant he was being slowly strangled. He reached up to open it, trying to find a way to fit a hand between their bodies without disturbing Sophia. It didn't work. The movement woke her from her daze and she shifted around until she could back up off of his lap and stand up. Then she turned her face away and started picking up her clothes. Bren was sorry to see her go. The sex had been exactly what he'd wanted at the moment, but it barely appeased his desire. He was looking forward to a lot more from Sophia. "Still hungry?" She asked lightly as she turned and finished pulling her shirt over her head, pulling her braid out of the shirt and flicking it over her shoulder with an experienced gesture. Her voice was composed again; there was little of the low sensuality in it that he'd heard five minutes ago. Bren raised his eyebrows at her until he realized she meant food. He didn't trust the sudden change from casual to intense to casual once again. In almost every way, Sophia was very different from her sister, which meant that she kept throwing him off-guard when she didn't react the way he expected. And he still wanted her, standing at her ease in clothes that had been chosen to keep her cool inside a heavy jumpsuit. And under those clothes, she was still hot and wet. Bren finally spoke, "We can send an order to the galley, or go out into Essex, if you're hungry for ground food." He sat up and shifted forward in the chair so he could start clicking all the closures back together on his uniform. "No flight rations?" Sophia shot him a teasing glance over her shoulder, because she was already tidying up the small room, putting the few things away that had been left out. It was obvious that she was only going to use the room to clean up, and would still live out of the Warlock. Bren would have been annoyed at her stubbornness, but he was still feeling relaxed. "No. No flight rations." He said dryly. "Then go get yourself some dinner before you starve. I'd better get back to the Warlock and finish life support." She opened the door and was waiting graciously for him to finish dressing himself so he would leave. Bren narrowed his green eyes at her, the haze of pleasure clearing from his mind. Though her expression was warm, and still a little sultry, she was serious about going back down to the Warlock instead of having dinner with him. He rose slowly to his feet and redid the last few closures on his uniform while he watched Sophia, tempted to push her up against the open door and take her mouth, still flush from kissing. At least the sex had been honest. He was pretty sure she wasn't being honest with him now. "I'll come help you after I get some food." He stalked toward her and slid a warm hand down the side of her neck. Her chin came up and her eyelids lowered, and he smiled slightly. Their brief, fierce encounter hadn't satisfied her desire any more than it had his. Which meant that he still had an edge when it came to finding out what she was hiding. Chapter 16 Sophia had the brief urge to call herself stupid and dwell on the insanity that had overtaken her the moment that she'd seen Bren sprawled wearily in that damn chair. But she knew that if she even thought about it at all, she'd end up leaning against the wall of the lift with a silly smile on her face. So she jigged in place during the brief lift ride and headed quickly across the empty flight deck to the Warlock, determined to finish repairing the life support systems before she was distracted again. Now there was a seductive thought. Sophia was enthusiastically in favor of being distracted again. Even now she felt her breath come in a bit quicker as she remembered the banked fire in Bren's green eyes. When she realized she was starting to daydream, she gave a little scream of frustration, echoingly loud in the shadow of the Warlock. She'd never had this kind of problem sticking to her plans before. She shook her head roughly and decided she wasn't going to have any more problems, either. The Warlock came first. The Warlock was safety. When it was working. Which was why she climbed into the cabin and flicked on the power to the life support system, watching the indicator lights flicker. Some came on and stayed, others went dark again. She made note of the ones that went dark, grabbed a fast protein bar and the punch down tool and got back to work. So far she was still safe. There had been no signs that anyone had come near the Warlock while she'd been asleep. If anyone in Essex had mentioned her name to Bren, he hadn't told her about it. She smiled grimly as she scraped a blob of burnt Claudia off the wires it had dripped down on. Bren might not tell her that anyone was looking for her at first, but she was fairly confident that she wouldn't be caught unawares if someone was searching for her. This was the only time where she was vulnerable. Once she got back to Anatoray and said what needed to be said, then it would be done. Until then, she needed to finish getting the Warlock airworthy again. Bren could help her do it, but that was the extent to which she should trust him. *** "You haven't asked me about your sister since last night." Bren stood just inside the cabin and propped the canopy open as Sophia went back to what she was doing before she went to let him in. "I should fix this next. We're going to suffocate in here if we aren't careful." Sophia turned her face away, pretending to concentrate on the wiring. She'd forgotten that Bren had left as soon as he'd given her Esterhazy's name. Now she scrambled to think of more questions to hide the fact that she already had the answer she needed. "I'm still thinking about what you said." She explained slowly, keeping her voice level. "You're lying." Sophia turned back to stare at him. He spread his arms slightly, his eyes as wary as ever. "You sound sincere, but if there was something else you wanted to know, you would have hounded me long before now. You already did yesterday." His voice was thoughtful. Sophia could tell he was annoyed, but not angry. "So something I said was important. Why didn't you tell me that?" She gave him a gentle smile, "Have you considered that you might be putting yourself in danger by asking?" He drifted closer, as if against his own will, "A few times. I'm not really concerned." Sophia eyed him thoughtfully, then used a tactic that she thought might get her tossed off the flight deck, "What about the danger to the Silvana and her crew?" That got his attention. His green eyes narrowed, "You've already put them in danger by being here. You're telling me there's more." She raised her eyebrows in surprise, "I didn't say that. I asked if you if you were willing to put them at risk." Bren growled, and Sophia held still. She could feel that she was pushing him close to the edge, "I put up with ground politicians all day, and now you're just giving me more of the same. I should dump you and the Warlock here at the dock and let you figure out how to get off the ground on your own." He'd hit on the one thing that she couldn't let happen. But he was annoyed and tired, so as long as Sophia didn't react, she was certain that he wouldn't notice. "You could." She said lightly, "Naylor would be disappointed." His eyelids lowered briefly, and Sophia breathed a silent sigh of relief. Bren was annoyed at the idea of Naylor getting a date with her. That was a start. She rose and put her tools away, pursuing the advantage. "I could put the Warlock back together myself. I have once already. He's the best ship I've ever run." She wiped her hands off on a rag and sat at her ease in the navi's chair. Bren stood and watched her, his jaw clenched. She paused carefully. She had three reasons for Bren to keep her on the Silvana, but none of them were strong enough to stand alone, and if he felt that she endangered his ship or his crew, then she'd be on the ground just like he threatened. "Of course the newscreens will run some sensational stories about you and another Anatorayen princess, but as long as we both refuse to talk to anyone about it, interest should die quickly." She looked up at him, outwardly calm. She hadn't said anything that he didn't already know. She hadn't promised him a thing. Anything he took away from the conversation would be based on his own hopes and fears. As long as he took the bait, Sophia would still be free to do as she wished. Finally he blew out a frustrated breath, breaking the tension. "I came here to work on the Warlock, not to play politics with you." "You started it." She pointed out, so relieved that Bren wasn't going to put her on the ground just yet that she said the first thing that came to mind. She snapped her mouth shut, but the combined look of amusement and annoyance on Bren's face made her smile, and then laugh. She stood up and offered her hands. "I am sorry. That was rude to say, and you've had a long day. I should be giving you a beer and a wrench, not making you crazy." He took her hands and the apology with them. "Parts of the day were good. And I had a beer before I came down here so you can stop worrying." Sophia grinned, "You didn't bring any for me, though." Bren looked down at her, and he seemed to have regained his equilibrium. "You've got grease and dirt all over your jumpsuit. Even here." He dropped her hands and brushed a fingertip across her forehead. Sophia felt lightning flicker through her stomach, "It comes with working on a vanship. These new ships are cleaner, but not half as fun to repair I bet." "I know." His voice was low, soft, sharing secrets. She drew in a deep breath, smelling the mix of oil and Claudia and man. She wanted to take up him on his unspoken offer, but she'd already made her decision. The Warlock came first. "Are you seducing me because you like having a princess in your bed?" She asked bluntly, hoping to shock him into backing off. Instead of being offended, Bren just gave her a one-sided smile, "No. And I haven't even had you in my bed yet. We've only managed a chair so far." Sophia's eyebrows dipped down as her annoyance was piqued, "It's not funny, Bren." "Depends who you ask. Do you want me because your sister had me?" She gaped at him, then closed her mouth and backed up, eyeing him warily, "No. And that's a foul accusation to make. Lets pretend this conversation never happened and get back to work on the Warlock." The words came out without force. He took a step forward to close the distance, and Sophia tried to back up again, but the pilot's chair was at her back. "Do you want me because you think it'll stop me from kicking you off my ship?" He asked. She gave him a disgusted look. He chuckled softly. "Back to work." She repeated and pushed on his chest to get him to move. He didn't move, and her nails dug into the heavy protective fabric of his jumpsuit, "Damn your stupid jumpsuit." She said wildly, irrationally. She couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted the captain or the mechanic or both, but it was playing havoc with her self-discipline. Bren laughed, and Sophia went up on her toes to kiss him hard, to silence him. The fire swept over her again, just like it had in her concession room earlier that day. She felt him press her up against the back of the pilot's chair. Because he had her body snugly between him and the back of the chair, he could feel the moment she started to melt, and he raised his head to look down at her with a wholly masculine smile. "I want you." He said, quiet but sure. Sophia drew in a quick breath as her body reacted to his words. Her hands were already on his jumpsuit, opening it as they moved downward. Her own jumpsuit hit the floor before his did, and then the heat of his body was against hers again, making her sigh and pull his head down to meet his mouth with hers. "Wait." Bren finally said after she let him up for air. "Not here." "What?" Sophia struggled to regain some sanity. "Why not?" "Not here." Bren repeatedly breathlessly, "My quarters. They've got a bed." Sophia glanced down the length of Bren's body, "It's going to be real obvious what we're doing." He kicked his jumpsuit off his shoes and went to the edge of the cabin, "No one's around. I could have you on the deck and no one would ever know." "Sounds like fun." Sophia let him help her over the edge and slid down the side of the Warlock. She waited until he hit the deck as well, "What's wrong with doing this in the Warlock?" "Can't tell if I'm having sex with you or the ship. Go on." He pushed her impatiently toward the lifts, "If you don't start moving, we're not going to make it to a bed this time either." Sophia laughed, her blood effervescing with amusement and desire. When they finally got inside the lift she pushed him lightly against the wall and rocked her hips into his, just to see his eyes spark green fire. In the back of her mind, she knew she'd been distracted again, but it seemed less important now that she could touch Bren, taking and giving heat with her mouth and her hands and her body. She was getting tired of lying to him anyhow, and if they did something other than talk, she could be honest. *** Bren yawned and waited for Sophia to close herself in the small shower in his quarters before he tapped his comm. His first officer answered immediately, and she sounded even more tired than he was. "What have you found out about Anatoray or the princess?" He asked without preamble. "Not much. All sources claim she's at a religious retreat, as previous intelligence indicated. A few crackpots claim she's been kidnapped, but they're the sort who claim that Disith has mind control rays, so no one pays attention to them. Both Sikandars are at Kyr Castle, running the country. No unusual stories or interesting gaps on the newscreens." "Right. What about my experts?" "They're still filling me in on Anatorayen history. You said not to ask directly about the princess." Miller's voice was reproachful, "Which means I'm getting hours of noise for a few seconds of signal." Bren rose and stretched and tried to find where he'd flung his clothes earlier. "You can ask them for recent history. That should go unnoticed." "I did, but it didn't help. These people are trying to look more knowledgeable than they are, so they're giving me everything and hoping that I find something I want. In addition to that, the ones who actually do have some real information are historians, which means that every time Sikandar blows his nose, it has historical precedent back to the first kings of Anatoray." Bren smiled and shook his head. "Leave it for now. You're bound to strangle one of them because you're too tired to stop yourself, and then I'll have no one to play diplomat for me." "Orders gratefully accepted." "Any word about an ambassador?" "Not so far." Bren clicked the comm off again and contemplated the closed door to the facilities. He needed that ambassador. Sophia wasn't going to tell him what was going on, and he had the feeling that he'd better find out fast. Chapter 17 Sophia worked alone on the Warlock through the next day while Bren went down to finish business with Essex dock and the city council. The Silvana was scheduled to lift off in the small hours of the morning, so she didn't expect to see him at all until the ship was airborne again. She buried herself in her work, trying not to dwell on the possibility that she might see Bren later that evening only because he'd be pushing her off of his ship, leaving her stranded at Essex dock. The Silvana's mechanics drifted back to the flight deck at various times. Banks was the first to show, overseeing the installation of a few new pieces of equipment. When everything was stowed according to his instructions, he dismissed the men and puttered around the flight deck for a few minutes before wandering over to see what Sophia was doing. She tracked his approach by the sound of tools rattling, then the tread of his boots on the deck. "How's it coming, Princess?" He hung his arms over the side of the Warlock's cabin and poked his head inside, his feet braced on the outside of the ship. Sophia didn't bother to look up from her work. Power gating calibration required most of her attention. "It's on schedule so far. Did the Captain order you to help again?" "No, it's just me." His voice had been friendly, but Sophia stopped what she was doing and turned to look at the man. His black eyes were intent on her. She nodded to herself. "So you came up here to see how much longer the Warlock would be on your flight deck, because when I'm gone, the Captain will go back to the bridge where he belongs. Right?" She phrased it as a question, but she already knew she was right. Banks shrugged once, "That's about it, yeah." "He's not ready to fly yet." She put a possessive hand on the pilot's chair, and knew it was a futile gesture, but couldn't stop herself from doing it. "Who?" The head mechanic frowned at her. "The Warlock. This ship. He's not ready to fly yet." She took a deep breath, and donned the serene expression that served her so well when sitting across from ambassadors, "Either the Captain will choose to have the Warlock brought down to ground here at Essex, or he'll permit me to finish repairs and I'll leave once those are complete." His muscular arms flexed once in a movement that told Sophia that he was thinking. "Huh." He finally said, "So do you need any help?" "I'll be just fine, thank you." She responded sweetly and insincerely, and waited until he straightened up and went back down the Warlock's side. Then she went back to power gating calibration while preparations were made for the Silvana to liftoff. *** "Nothing." Bren said after Miller had given him a summary of her work. "Two days of pumping experts, and we've got nothing." His soft voice held a lot of disgust, and a touch of worry. "Not a thing." Miller agreed, sitting back in her own chair in the ready room. "Unless you count the massive headache I've got." Bren acknowledged her long hours of work with an absent nod. "And our ambassador?" "Better news, there." Miller let her head loll against the back of her chair. "At least I hope so. There's a man coming up from Kyr who claims to have diplomatic privileges under Sikandar's rule. No confirmations yet, so it might just be a hoax. He's scheduled to meet up with us in the air somewhere over Leyte." "Name?" "None given." Bren took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "It will have to do. Any problems come up with loading that I haven't already heard about?" Miller clucked her tongue as she thought, "I told you about the mixup with the filters. That's the biggest one. Other than that, we're green up to actual crew." "Not our problem." Bren stood up and Miller chuckled. The Silvana's policy was that if you weren't on the ship when it lifted off, you found another job, because you'd just been fired. "I'll meet up with you for our farewell dinner. I want to look at our new contracts again." "Not checking in on the princess?" Miller rose as well to follow him out the door. There was no bite of annoyance in her voice anymore. As long as Bren was doing his job as captain, she seemed to have accepted that the Warlock and its pilot were going to be his new project on the side. "Let her stew. Something's up, and she's not telling us what it is." Though Bren was reluctantly fascinated by the woman, he wasn't stupid. She was using him, and he was going to find out why. *** Sophia chewed slowly on the reheated carrots of her dinner, her gaze pointed toward the back of the cabin, but her thoughts much farther away. She wished that Bren hadn't drunk all the beer from the other night. It went a long way to making the rations taste better. So did Bren's company, but she wasn't wishing for that right now. There was still half a week's work to be done on the Warlock before he was airworthy again. And while she was pretty sure she could trust Bren with her life, that was only if he knew she was in danger. And that wasn't something she intended to tell him. The urge to do so was strong. It had been so long since she could trust someone else. Trust them enough to tell them what was really going on. She hadn't been in any real danger until she left Kyr castle, but she'd always kept her own council. If she'd voiced her own suspicions early on to anyone she would have been at best mocked, and at worst she would have drawn attention to herself before she had any form of protection. And now she had the Warlock, but he was injured. And she had Bren, if he didn't throw her off the Silvana. Sophia frowned. *** When the Silvana finally lifted off, Sophia was ready. She'd set an alarm to wake her up before liftoff procedures started, and blearily strapped herself into the pilot's chair, ready to be shaken to pieces one more time. As the big flight engines started up, she realized that she'd once again forgotten to refill the impact foam reservoirs. She sighed, clutched the arms of the pilot's chair, and held on for dear life. Liftoff was faster than touchdown had been, and soon enough the Silvana was floating with surprising grace in the airstream once more. The engines stabilized, and Sophia unbuckled herself and stumbled back to her makeshift bed behind the navi's chair. She hadn't been asleep more than a few minutes when the Warlock's comm lit up, and the infernal chime of an incoming message got her on her hands and knees and crawling toward the pilot's consoles to slam a hand down on the comms button. "My bed is empty." Bren's soft voice came through on the channel, clear as glass and matter of fact. Some organ in Sophia's chest gave a queer kick, and she sucked in a quick breath. "Since you just woke me up, so is mine." She couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice. "Come up here." He said. Just like that. It was neither a plea nor a demand, just a simple statement that she could choose to fulfill or deny. He was like no one she'd encountered before, and she couldn't resist the chance to play with him, just a little. "What about Banks and the other mechanics?" She asked, knowing that it wouldn't be long before everyone on the ship knew she was sleeping with the captain. "No room for them." The sound of his comm clicking off came through loud and clear, and Sophia started to laugh. He was fully aware of the use of equivocation, and completely immune to it. When she got up to his quarters, he was already in bed and asleep. She woke him up so he could reset all the security on the door, then fell asleep next to him. It wasn't as safe as the Warlock, but it was enough. She woke up to the exquisite feeling of Bren's hands sliding warmly over her body as he nipped and kissed her skin in a lazy downward path. By the time his fingers stroked through the curls between her thighs and found her already starting to grow wet, she was fully awake. She tried to twist around, to touch him as well, but he put his hands on her thighs and held her lower body in place. "Wait a second." She said breathlessly, trying to sit up so she could reach him, but she couldn't get any leverage. "No." His green eyes were intent on his work, and he brought her to a sudden fierce orgasm with sure movements of his hands that had done equally excellent work on her ship. It was the knowledge that the same fingers thrusting deep into her body had so recently been deep in the Warlock's wiring that threw her violently over the edge. Bren didn't give her any time to catch her breath before he had his hands under her buttocks, pulling her into the cradle of his thighs so he could guide himself into her. Aftershocks surged through her as he slid smoothly into her body, then angled her hips so that he could withdraw nearly all the way again. After a few lazy moments of simply enjoying the feel of Bren inside her, she began to help, rolling her hips toward him with each stroke. He made a low sound of pleasure and picked up speed. Each movement was like a jolt through her sensitized body, and when her rhythm fragmented into another orgasm, he only managed to keep up the pace for a few moments before his own release took over him. When Sophia caught her breath again, she stretched and sat up to look at Bren where he'd collapsed on the bed beside her. "I didn't do much for that." She apologized, feeling fantastic but still a little guilty that he'd done most of the work. "I got what I wanted." He said calmly, though he was still breathing fast and deep. He hefted himself off the bed, then leaned close to give her a rough kiss. "I'll be down to help with the Warlock for a couple hours around dinner." Then he was heading for the shower. Sophia shook her head, but she was smiling. When Bren stepped out of the shower a few minutes later to get dressed, she took his place in the small facility. By the time she got out, he was gone. She headed down to work on the Warlock. Chapter 18 Bren snagged the carry-all full of beer bottles and took the lift down to the flight deck. He felt good. The Silvana was fully stocked and back in the airstream, he had two excellent contracts and another minor one, and he was going to go work on a vanship with a woman who was beautiful wearing nothing but grease and dirt. There was something on the horizon, something that Sophia wasn't telling him, but for the time being, he was in a good place. He scaled the side of the Warlock easily and put the carry-all in the pilot's chair. Sophia called out from one of the compartments that made up the rest of the space of the ship, all tucked between the cabin and the engine housing. "I'm back here." He followed the sound of her voice and found her in front of an open access hatch in one of the cargo compartments. "Stabilizer?" He asked, glancing over her work. "Yes, even though it's functional. I had to check the gate here, and I know this stabilizer release is always a bit sticky, so I thought I'd fix it while I was here." She didn't look up from what she was doing, and Bren felt a sudden surge of affection. He leaned a shoulder against the open door and watched her instead of grabbing a tool and going to work on something else. For a woman who'd been trained from birth to be a princess, she made a damn good mechanic. "What else have you worked on?" He found himself asking. She tilted her head slightly in a gesture to elaborate. "Other ships, I mean." "Just this one." She paused to stroke a thumb down the edge of the open hatch in blatant possession, and Bren's affection turned abruptly to lust. He shook his head roughly to get his mind back on track. He looked around for the toolbox and rummaged inside it for a probe that he knew she was going to need soon. "Where did you find it?" He asked, handing her the probe just as she was about to reach into the toolbox for it. "Thank you. And I didn't find him. He came up for auction and there was some breathless newscreen about the ship of death being on sale. So I went down to Tarawa and bought him." She leaned close to wiggle the probe into the tight spot between the two thick ropes of twisted wires so that she could test the stabilizer release without having to go back to the pilot's console to start it up. Bren blew out a short breath in amusement. "I should have figured. I'm still surprised Sikandar let you repair and fly it." "Ow! Damn." Sophia's hand had slipped and she'd stabbed the delicate end of the probe into her finger. Bren went cold as he watched her put her bleeding fingertip in her mouth. He could feel the avalanche coming, but he didn't say a word. Then Sophia took her fingertip out of her mouth, tilted her chin up and looked him right in the eye. "I didn't tell my father I was repairing the Warlock or that I was planning to be a pilot." She said, a new intensity showing through her usual serenity. "I told him I was making the ship into a museum dedicated to Carolina's memory." Bren closed his eyes. Here it was, the thing she'd been hiding from him. He sat down on the floor and pushed back with his feet until his back was against the corner where two walls of the compartment met. "The newscreens put you at a religious retreat." He said softly. "It would be political suicide to admit that a princess just ran away." Even though he couldn't see her wouldn't open his eyes to look at her he could hear the discomfort clearly in her voice. "Do they know where you are now?" He asked. There was a long pause, then, "No." He nodded once, then opened his eyes to watch her, affection and lust now long distant memories. "Why?" Sophia was kneeling facing him, the fingers of one hand rubbing over the healing ridges of stitches on her forearm. Her expression was probably a mirror of his; wary, unsure. Her short braid had fallen forward over her shoulder, and she flicked it back without looking away from him. "I had my doubts about Carolina's death. Until the Warlock came up for auction, I didn't have anything to work with. Then he was mine, and I just ... couldn't stop thinking about it." "So you came gunning for me." He said, deadly soft. She winced slightly, but gave no other indication of her discomfort. "So I came looking for you. But I was wrong. You had nothing to do with it." That small concession didn't make him the least bit happier. He brooded over the new information, trying to figure out just how much it was going to cost him, the Silvana, and her crew. "Is your father looking for you?" "I don't know. Probably, but I used the Delgrada name whenever I docked, and though I asked around for the Silvana, I made sure to spend a night at several different docks after I got the coordinates, so that it wouldn't be immediately obvious where I was trying to go." Bren grunted once. She'd at least taken some precautions. And she wouldn't be immediately recognizable; she was pretty, but not memorable. "So now what?" She gave him a tight smile, "I think I'm the one who should be asking that. My plans are based on yours. If you set me down on the ground, I finish repairing the Warlock and go my own way. If not, I finish repairing him here, and go my own way. Whatever your choice is, as soon as I'm off the Silvana, you're out of the newscreens' eye." She sounded completely sincere, but Bren knew there was something wrong. There was still something she wasn't telling him. It was easier to look at the situation logically and find the missing piece than to try and match wits with a consummate diplomat. "You have a name." He finally said. She frowned at him, confused. "You know I didn't have anything to do with Carolina's death, but you think you know who did." That was the missing piece. "You grilled me about that last assignment at Lexington dock, then you went silent." She was silent now. Bren thought out loud, "You could be satisfied that it was an accident, but I doubt it. Even I know it wasn't, though I've tried to ignore that for the last six or seven years. So it wasn't an accident, and you know who killed her. And you're scared. No wonder you keep eating flight rations. You're afraid of being poisoned." She had the grace to duck his gaze briefly, "It was a vanishingly small possibility." Bren made a sound of disgust, "You're paranoid. So who is it?" She drew in a slow breath, "There's no proof." "Right. But you know who did it." "I have an idea what might have happened." She said warily. It was the wariness that filled Bren with a sudden irrational anger. There was someone who'd killed Carolina out there, somewhere. Sophia was so scared that that same person would come after her that she would only eat flight rations she'd packed in her own ship. She hadn't even dared tell Bren what was really going on until he'd been drawn into the pleasure of touching the Warlock again, touching its pilot. He surged to his feet and tapped his comm. "Status on the Anatorayen ambassador." He snapped. Sophia was on her feet as well, just as angry as she realized what his words meant, "What do you think you're doing, Bren?" "Good news, Captain. He's flying a veloship and should meet up with us before morning." Miller sounded relieved, but Bren was too livid to feel the same. "How dare you go behind my back." Sophia was spitting at him, but he stared her down until she backed up a step. "You used me." He said, his voice lethally soft, "And you lied to me. If you won't tell me the truth, I'll find someone who can. Name." The last demand was directed at Miller. "He said his name was Philip Esterhazy. Information tells me that Mr. Esterhazy is a registered diplomat for Anatoray." Miller reported. She didn't say more, because she wasn't stupid. She'd heard what Bren had said to Sophia. There was fire in Sophia's brown eyes. Though she was silent, she was seething. He could tell that she was going to hit him. "Swing at me, and I'll lay you out flat." He warned. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. Whether it was in shock at his words or in realization of what she'd been about to do, he didn't know. Didn't care. He walked out of the compartment and swung over the edge of the cabin, slid down the Warlock's side, and headed for the lifts. He didn't know where he was going, but he had to get off the flight deck. "Pilot Forrester is requesting clearance to depart in the Warlock, Captain." He'd left his comm open, and Miller spoke over the channel in a neutral voice. "Denied." He tapped the comm back off and slammed the button for the health deck with more force than was needed. Chapter 19 Sophia was a whirlwind of fury as she rushed through the Warlock's forward cabin, scooping up what few tools had been left out and throwing them into the nearest compartment. Then she slammed herself down into the pilot's chair, her hands shaking with rage as she started the Warlock's initialization sequence. The navigational coordinate system hesitated, and she drew in a hissing breath to steady her temper before shutting the system down and turning on the refrigeration unit in one of the storage compartments. It was a completely nonsensical thing to do, unless you knew that the systems in a vanship were mostly wired in series and that the refrigeration unit was before the navigational coordinate system in that series. She flicked the switch for the navigational coordinate system and this time it came smoothly online, but there were other problems. One of the pilot's consoles showed various lights blinking warnings about incomplete or damaged systems, but there was enough to get the Warlock off the flight deck and away from the Silvana. She would not sit still and allow anyone to betray her. She would not wait for any assassin to come kill her. Sophia looked hard at one particular warning light on the pilot's console. It reminded her that she had never remembered to refill the impact foam reservoirs. Too late now. She ignored Banks' voice on the comm while she diverted Claudia from the backup systems to the propulsion system. And there was Banks appearing on her secondary viewscreen. The primary viewscreen was still without power. She could see him shouting as she disengaged the locks and gave the Warlock's propulsion a brief surge of Claudia that sent the ship hurtling backward. What little Claudia now remained in the Warlock's systems would have to be saved until the very last second. When the Warlock hit the lip that separated the flight deck from the sky, she drew a slow breath. Then she let it out as a soft sound of dread as the Warlock started to fall. *** "Captain, the Warlock has left the Silvana and gone into a spin! It's not carrying any fuel!" "That crazy bitch just pushed her ship off the flight deck!" Bren heard both the report from the watchman and the shout from Banks over his comm at the same time. He knew in that moment that he'd judged Sophia wrong. She was reasonable, but only up to a point. He was already heading for the lift at a run when he flicked open his comm to access all decks. "Emergency. Clear all comms. Navigation, all stop. I want any pilots near the docks to lift off and save the Warlock from crashing. Do whatever you have to. Doctor Gareck, report to the docks as soon as possible. Prepare for crash injuries. The pilot is type A positive. Doctor's Aides; pack up everything in the med bay and prepare to move. Engineering, I want you to load it all on a plane and get it down on the ground. Someone get me Pilot Forrester on the comm." He stopped his run by the simple expedient of slamming into the back of the lift with his shoulder before spinning and punching the button for the bridge. He closed his comm down to a single frequency and listened to the controlled chaos happening around him. "I've got her." Bren heard Miller's voice, then he could hear the Warlock's systems reverberate in the ship's tiny cabin as they clicked and beeped and blared and announced impending doom. The wind could be heard even through the canopy. Sophia herself was silent. "Use what fuel you've got left. I have ships heading for you to slow your descent." He said, his voice as calm as he could make it. "Go to hell, Bren." Sophia's voice was not calm. Even those few words were spat out from between her teeth. He could hear switches flipping as she struggled to keep the plane level. There was another click, and a neutral tone from his comm that meant the channel had been closed to incoming messages. Sophia would no longer hear anything he said. The lift doors opened up on the bridge, and Bren found himself staring at his first officer, who had her fingers on the collar of her uniform, hovering over the comm button. "She's cut off reception." Miller reported faintly, and Bren nodded. "Link all channels to my ready room. I'll monitor from there." He strode past her and slammed the door of his ready room closed behind him, dropping down into a chair still wearing shorts and a shirt from his time on the health deck. Reports started coming in, too fast for him to identify the person making them. "I've got the ship in my sights now." "Doctor Gareck is packed and ready to go." "The Warlock's been sighted, Captain. She's holding steady, but dropping like a stone. We've got two ships flanking her, but they can't get close enough at those speeds. They'll kill themselves and her too." Bren responded to the report directed at him. "Received. She won't slow until she's close to the ground. Keep as close as you can, and bring the doctor in the moment the Warlock touches down." He flogged his brain for anything else he could do to make the Warlock land safely, any trick to the Warlock's operation that would give Sophia the Claudia she needed. But there was nothing. Claudia was finite, and the Warlock ran on Claudia, not his wishes. Bren put his head in his hands and listened to the Warlock crashing. If he concentrated over the other reports, he could hear Sophia's rapid breathing. She never said a word, but she was never idle, either. He could hear the changes as differences in the way the wind screamed over the canopy as she tried every trick she knew. He couldn't recognize each as it flashed through her mind and her hands, but he knew she was a good mechanic, and she was desperate. Only near the end did she speak, and it was a whisper. "Damn you, Bren." He closed his eyes, accepting the curse as his due. Then she cried out sharply, and he kept his eyes closed, his body still as a stone. Now he could hear her breathing, a rasping draw that was punctuated with 'god'. She was hurt badly. And he was stuck up on the Silvana. For the first time in his life, he hated the ship. There was a sudden grunt from the comm, and then silence. She'd either hit her head on something or blacked out on her own. That was some small mercy. He could still hear the soft words she'd whispered, hitting him like gravel across a vanship's windows. "Report." He croaked into the comm. "The Warlock's in sight and coming down fast and spinning. She engaged the foils, but it's not helping much, and she's not doing anything else now. We think she's out." "Agreed. Keep me informed." Bren sat back and listened to the reports as they came in. The sound of the Warlock finally hitting ground hurt almost as much as the sounds from Sophia's comm had. "Kelso! I need an ETA to ground for the Doctor!" "The Warlock's down! Severe damage to the ship!" "Anyone have a visual on the cabin?" "Kelso reporting in. We've got landing gear out and we're touching down now." "I can see one of the stabilizer wings now. It's broken off." "Someone get me fire foam, I can't see a damn thing. Wait, Doctor Gareck! Stand back, sir, until we can make sure it's safe for you- I know what the Captain said but-" Bren realized his chest was hurting because he'd stopped breathing. He took a slow breath, whispered, "Report." Then he realized he couldn't be heard. "Report." He repeated in a louder voice. "Doctor's in the Warlock now, Captain. The ship's lost a wing and the body looks crumpled, but we think the cabin might have stayed intact. The doctor's shouting about clamps. We think that means the pilot's alive." Bren nodded to himself. The clamps were for the blood loss. But from where? "Try to get a man in close without disrupting Gareck's work. I want to know what injuries she's got." "Yes, sir." A long pause and a flurry of piecemeal reports, "Looks like the leg, they think. There's a lot of blood everywhere." Leg meant the femoral artery. Nearly as dangerous as a chest or head wound. And even without an open injury, she still might not live. Her internal organs or her brain could have been damaged irreparably. Bren sat in his chair in an otherwise empty room, and listened in silence. *** Bren was already in the med bay when they brought Sophia in. She was attended by as many aides and engineers carrying equipment and monitors as she would have been attended by courtiers if she'd still been in Kyr Castle. He stayed out of the way as they set up the monitoring bed and Gareck started doing serious surgery. The aides gave him a few strange glances, but stopped paying attention to him when the doctor barked at them to mind their work. It was an odd feeling to see the massive hole that had been punched into Sophia's upper thigh. He'd seen all there was to see of her, and yet here in front of him was a new intimacy. There was a moment's thought to turn away, to save her at least that much privacy, but he ignored it. Instead, he watched her face. Blood and grease streaked her skin, and underneath it she was bloodless pale. She was beautiful; in that stillness he was reminded of how finely made and delicate she really was. When she was awake, she was always in motion and that had lead him to believe that she was virtually indestructible. He had no desire to be proven wrong. "She'll live." Gareck said, and Bren realized he was being spoken to. "Thank you." He said finally. *** Bren had a temporary bunk brought into the med bay, and retired to it at the end of days that seemed longer than they should have been. He watched as Sophia breathed, all but dead, without the least flicker of her eyelashes. The difference between the silent form on the bed and the woman he'd rocked to orgasm in his arms was jarring. He looked down at her face, now clean of blood and sporting an ugly bruise that extended from her forehead into her hairline. All he could think about was how he'd felt while he rested inside her as she breathed softly in his ear. She'd been sweet and hot in his hands, an unexpected treasure. Then he'd hear her curse his name again, and he'd turn over in his bunk and go to sleep. Miller wouldn't enter the room. It was apparent that she didn't like the idea of the Captain of the ship catering to a mere civilian, princess or not. She never mentioned her concerns outright, so Bren didn't bother to reassure her. "We've got that ambassador Esterhazy still waiting for confirmation and coordinates so he can fly up and board ship." She said, eyeing him with a certain unease in her expression, as though she was afraid that he'd swoon and fall into a coma as well. Bren glanced up at the prominent viewscreen in the med bay, making note of the time. He was having difficulty remembering what day it was. "String him along for a day or two more. I don't want him on the Silvana until I know why she," He nodded toward the silent form, "Tried to kill herself getting away from him." "Are you sure this was all about the ambassador?" Miller eyed Sophia's white-shrouded body warily, "I get the feeling we're being drawn into a situation that could get us all killed." Bren shrugged once, "I'm not taking any chances." What he didn't tell his first officer was that he didn't want to chance letting Philip Esterhazy on board, because he might just kill the man himself. That had been the name he'd given Sophia right before she'd stopped pestering him about Carolina. The same name that had driven her to push the Warlock off the edge of the docking bay. Was that it? Was the truth so simple and so wicked? Did Sophia think that Esterhazy had killed her sister? Until she woke to tell him yes or no, Bren didn't trust himself to be on the same ship as the man, not even a ship as massive as the Silvana. Chapter 20 Sophia had dreamed of crashing; crumpled metal, shouting and pain. But that was long ago. Now she was dreaming that she'd only five minutes left to get to a critical meeting between the ambassadors of Anatoray and Disith, and she'd put her dress on backward. No matter how she struggled outside the closed double doors to the meeting room, she couldn't seem to get the damn thing on right. Even as she dreamed, she knew it was a dream, so she was annoyed at her predicament but not unduly. Soon the dream would end and another would begin. By the time she woke, all those thousands of dreams that had played across her brain would be forgotten. That was how dreaming worked. She woke suddenly. Simply opened her eyes and took a slightly deeper breath. Before she could do more than establish who she was, a man's face came into view. "Awake? Good." The man turned slightly, "Dial down the drugs for a moment. Seventy-five percent of full power." Sophia blinked, raised her hands to rub her eyes. She felt sluggish, like she'd been sleeping a long time. Her brain threw up a name to match the face. Dr. Gareck. Which meant that she was on the Silvana. She'd crashed the Warlock. She'd crashed the Warlock. "The Warlock!" She cried out as the older dream washed over her. Crumpled metal. The Warlock was broken. She sat up abruptly and went to swing herself out of bed and run for the ship. A hand pushed her back down to the bed roughly. She snarled up at the man who'd done it. Then her common sense finally came back on-line and she realized what she was doing. The second man was Bren. His green eyes were not amused even though his expression was stoic. He'd been furious with her but was now trying to hide it. But if he was there looking at her, then the Warlock was safe. He might be angry with her, but he wouldn't take it out on her ship. She settled back onto the bed. "Good reflexes." Gareck said to Bren before the doctor turned and demanded equipment from an aide; Sophia assumed it was the medical terminology that made him sound like he was talking absolute gibberish. "She's done it before. Banks warned me." Bren withdrew his hand, and Sophia frowned up at him "Tell me." She said, and realized her voice hadn't been used in a while. She repeated herself in a stronger voice, "Tell me." Bren flicked a glance toward the foot of the bed, and Sophia made a note to see for herself what it was he'd had to look at before answering. "You pushed the Warlock off the docking bay without fuel or safety precautions. How you survived is anyone's guess." Sophia ignored that part, "The Warlock?" Bren gave her an irritated look. She ignored that too. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose before putting them back on and telling her what she wanted to know. "I'd recommend you donate it to a charity group and have them sink it as an artificial reef." Sophia closed her eyes. "The cabin itself managed to avoid total compaction, which is more than you deserve, but everything on the outside was bent, broken or snapped right off. Because you decided to just throw yourself off the Silvana with no fuel, there was very little Claudia burnout damage, but the impact damage more than made up for it. There wasn't a single system or compartment on board that wasn't affected." There was a long pause, then, "Pilot Forrester. Sophia." "I'm here." She said, and opened her eyes again. "I'm still here." He chose to misunderstand. "You shouldn't be. You should be painted all over the ground right now. One dark red smear." He'd been angry before, and he was again. Sophia tried to nod, but a massive headache had snuck up on her, and she winced. She'd woken up fine, but now she felt sore all over. "Right on time." Doctor Gareck showed up in her field of view again, peering carefully into her face. "Good. If you'll bear with me, Pilot Forrester, I'm going to ask you some questions and run some tests. It's easier to identify any brain damage when you're awake than when you're in a variable-depth forced comatose state." "What?" Sophia was afraid she'd just failed the first test. "Dreaming coma." Bren explained shortly before he stepped back and vanished from view. She turned her head far enough to see that he hadn't moved far. Then she resigned herself to a long unpleasant examination. *** Sophia would have fought if Gareck had suggested she be forced back into sleep, but apparently once she'd been taken off the drugs that had kept her in the dreaming coma, they were not used again. By the time the tests were over, she was exhausted and cranky. It had taken multiple tries and multiple tests to calibrate the numerous different drugs in her system so that she was aware of the pain without being hindered by it, able to think clearly without being beset by apathy, depression or panic. Still, it was a good thing that Gareck had given her a little too much of the drug that caused apathy when he had, because shortly after that she'd looked down to see the crippling hole that had been ripped into her right thigh. Through the narrow trough that Gareck hadn't been able to stitch skin over, Sophia had been able to clearly see all the vulgar colors of her flesh that should have been politely hidden by her skin. All she'd said was "I do wish you would use opaque bandages." Her voice had been conversational. Gareck had taken one sharp look at her and ordered an aide to ease back on the drug. But now the tests were all over and Sophia could stare up at the ceiling while her brain idled. She was not tired yet, but she did feel as though she'd been put through hours of rigorous exercise instead of simply laying in bed and having Gareck poke at her and ask her questions over and over again. So far her prognosis was good. The leg would heal with time and Gareck's excellent management. She had some short-term amnesia that had frustrated her greatly when she was answering questions, but the doctor said that was common and not usually indicative of any real brain trauma. She would regain her memories in the next few weeks, although at first they might be a little confused. Bren had left early on, for which Sophia was glad. She didn't want to fight with him just yet, but it was obvious that a fight was coming. She sighed and turned her mind to other issues. The Warlock was totally destroyed according to Bren, but she suspected from his annoyance that he was exaggerating the extent of the damages. According to Gareck, she'd been a dreaming coma for five days. Bren hadn't mentioned Philip at all, so she didn't know what had happened yet. She had to know whether he had been allowed on to the Silvana. From there onward, she could make her plans. Sophia stared sightlessly up at the ceiling as she thought about the Warlock. It was vitally important that she know if Philip was on board the ship, and if so, to protect the Warlock. But she couldn't remember why. She growled, frustrated by her own brain's weakness. "If you try to get up, I'll have Gareck knock you out again." Bren's voice broke in on her thoughts and she flinched, glared up at him. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" He simply raised his eyebrows at her. "Guilty conscience?" "No." She made an aborted attempt to sit up and he handed her the controls to the bed. "Thank you." She frowned down at the controls until the buttons made sense, and adjusted the damn thing until she was at least partially sitting up and could feel like she was talking to Bren as an equal and not have him looming over her. "Where's Esterhazy?" He settled back on his heels and looked over her head at the doctor and his aides. Sophia took the hint even before he replied casually, "Still on the ground. He's waiting for permission to board." "I would like to discuss that with you." She said carefully. Bren gave her a narrow-eyed look, then made a sound of disgust. "Better late than never? If you ever..." This time when he looked over at the doctor it wasn't to get her attention. It was to remind himself not to shout. He visibly calmed himself. "We'll talk later. Gareck, is she ready to be moved?" The doctor came over at the sound of his name, checked the data viewscreen on Sophia's bed, and nodded to Bren, "She's stable, Captain. I've already registered my opposition to this idea, but for now she's doing well enough to go down there." "Down where?" Sophia couldn't work herself into a panic not with all the drugs in her blood but she could feel quite wary. "Are you putting me on the ground?" "No. It's not like you'd stay there if I did." Bren watched as two aides came forward at the doctor's signal and began to move the bed toward the wide med bay doors. Sophia craned her neck to see that Bren was following the bed. She kept silent until they made it to the lift and the aides showed Bren how to move the bed. Then the doors of the lift finally shut and she was alone with him. "Well?" She asked. "Right." He hit the button for the flight deck, "You've got about half a minute." "To do what? I want you to tell me what you're going to do with Esterhazy, and where you're taking me right now." She added, suspicious of his self-possession. She'd expected him to blow up at her the moment they were alone. Bren rubbed a hand through his hair and yawned, and Sophia suddenly realized how ragged he looked. Had something else happened to him in the five days she'd been unconscious on a bed in the med bay? "No." He said with admirable patience, "You're going to tell me what the hell is going on, and then I'm going to decide what to do about it." "And then you're going to toss me off the docking bay?" "Only if you keep avoiding my questions. I want to know why you nearly killed yourself and pinned your own death on me and the Silvana. Is it because of Esterhazy?." Sophia sighed. He had her trapped. Well, she'd done most of that herself, especially when she'd pushed the Warlock off the edge of the flight deck. He deserved some answers. Besides, she wasn't going anywhere, stuck in the med bed as she was. "Talk, Sophia." "Yes. It's because of Philip. I can't let him near the Warlock." She stared at the many buttons on the lift wall. Each one corresponded to a deck, but the only one lit up was the one for the flight deck. If Bren cared at all about her, he had the Warlock on the flight deck. If not, the Warlock was still in pieces over the ground and she had no way of getting back to her ship. "Why? Did he kill Carolina? Sabotage?" Bren pushed a different button and the lift stopped before he turned back to watch her closely, "Did you have evidence? Why didn't you tell me? The Silvana's vaults are a hell of a lot better guarded than anything on the Warlock. Or did you not trust me either?" "No, no. I trust you!" Sophia flopped against the bed in her haste to stop him; it was about all she could do at the moment. "That's not it at all. At least ... I don't think it is." "Explain." Bren was holding on to his temper as best he could, but Sophia could tell he was as frustrated as she was. "I do trust you. I don't ... I don't think there was evidence. I can't remember." At his sudden frown, she gave a sharp laugh, "I know. It sounds stupid, doesn't it? The doctor said that my memory might be patchy for a few weeks yet. And the one thing I've forgotten is why Esterhazy can't be allowed near the Warlock." "Because he might kill you too?" Bren asked coolly. Sophia stopped and thought for a moment, "Perhaps that's it." The slam of Bren's hand against the wall of the lift made her jump. He'd turned away and started the lift moving again, "Then I suggest you tell me everything you remember. If I'd known all this from the start, I could have helped you-" He shook his head roughly and stopped talking. Sophia knew she was on shaky ground, so she kept her mouth shut and eyed his back while he tapped his comm open and told Banks to stand by. When the lift doors opened again, Banks was waiting for them along with Naylor and Seth. Bren showed them how to make the bed move, and they wheeled Sophia out on to the flight deck. The three mechanics were excited. Bren was annoyed. Sophia wondered what was going on. Then she saw the Warlock. Chapter 21 "Oh." Sophia said. Then she ran out of words. "None of the internal systems have been tested." Banks said, his voice unusually diffident, "The Captain's been too busy to check them, and the rest of us don't know enough about vanships to do more than basic repairs." "We had a hard enough time putting the hull back together. I don't think there was any panel that didn't need to be reworked flat." Seth looked upon the Warlock with obvious pride. "We refilled the impact foam reservoirs too." Naylor added. "Shut up, Tully." Banks said in a low aside. Sophia was still staring at her ship, and the only way anyone could tell that she was still breathing was because the medical bed's alarms hadn't gone off yet. There was a long silence. Sophia was peripherally aware of the mechanics fidgeting, wanting reassurance, afraid they'd upset her. "I can guarantee that it's the first time the Warlock's been painted in at least ten years. I certainly never bothered." Bren was the first to speak, and his mild voice didn't even disturb the reverent silence. "He's perfect." Sophia said softly. She couldn't look away, barely realized that she'd spoken at all. The Warlock was parked in its own space, gleaming brilliantly under the blinding lights of the flight deck. Every surface had been repaired, refinished, painted and polished until the eighty-year-old vanship looked new. The mechanics had chosen to paint it the same vivid red that was on the Silvana's flags. The ship glowed wetly, like fresh blood spilled on the unpainted metal deck. "Maybe we should have painted it blue like you said." Naylor muttered to Banks, eyeing Sophia's face uncertainly. Sky blue was one of the Anatorayen flag's colors. Sophia knew she was crying only because she could feel the tears run down her cheeks, making her skin itch. She might have been pumped full of drugs keeping her physically and emotionally stable, but no drugs could suppress her reaction. The viewscreen on her bed showed no increase in blood pressure or heart rate, but the tears still ran down her face. She didn't even raise a hand to wipe them away. "He's perfect." She repeated. Then she cleared her throat and wiped her face and fussed over the bed's controls while the mechanics stood around awkwardly waiting for her to compose herself. Through it all Bren just stood there, as levelheaded as ever. She took a deep breath. "So when can I fly him?" He shook his head in disgust, but she could tell he wasn't really angry. He was proud of the work that the mechanics had done. They must have worked in shifts the entire time she was unconscious. "When you can walk across the flight deck to your ship, then I might consider letting you work on it. Don't start badgering me for flight privileges until you can stand on your own two feet." He said in his soft voice. "We laid new wiring and replaced tubing where it was obviously broken, but we haven't fired up the engine yet." Banks shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with the emotional scene and wanting to get back to his work. "It can't be too damaged." Sophia said in a more normal voice, gesturing for Bren to move her bed toward the Warlock, "It's not like I could have burned out much of anything, since I was running on air instead of Claudia. I'll isolate the engine and start it up so I can see what needs to be done." Instead of jumping to assist her, Bren signaled the mechanics to turn her bed around. "Hey!" "Time's up. You can come stare at your ship another day." He opened the doors of the lift. Sophia knew she wouldn't be able to dissuade him from taking her back to the med deck, so she didn't try. Instead, she turned her attention back to the three other men. "Thank you." She said sincerely, looking at each of the mechanics before the lift doors closed, "Thank you." *** The lift doors hadn't quite closed, so Bren heard Naylor speculating that maybe now Sophia would want some Disith brandy and a nice dinner. He gave a short sigh of annoyance and made sure the bed's viewscreen was still displaying stable values. When he looked up at Sophia, who was giving him a knowing smile. "He's a good mechanic." He said, defending the man. "I didn't say anything." When Sophia didn't say anything else, he looked her over more carefully. Her gaze was blank, and her eyelids were starting to close. She was exhausted. While he hadn't wanted to drag her down to the flight deck the moment she was roused from her forced coma, he knew that Banks and the other mechanics would have hounded him until he did. So he'd simply made arrangements to move Sophia in her medical bed. He was glad she was awake again. It meant that soon he could sleep in his quarters again. The bed he'd commandeered in the med bay wasn't as comfortable as his own bed, and he hadn't been sleeping well. Part of that was because of the nightmares of what would happen if yet another Anatorayen princess died on one of his ships. Damn the woman. Even the most basic emotion he felt toward her fear of her death - was alloyed with political concerns. Bren was still furious about the whole thing, despite being glad she was alive. Once Sophia had healed a little more, the two of them were going to have one hell of a fight. He was perversely looking forward to it. The lift stopped and the doctor's aides were waiting outside to move the bed back to the med bay. Bren followed along at a slower pace since Sophia had already fallen asleep. He watched Gareck check the viewscreen's vital signs and then order the aides to put the bed back into its cradle of wires and machines. The doctor turned to him, "I don't show any complications from the short trip to the flight deck, Captain. All the tests from earlier today show very little trauma other than what you'd expect from blood loss and impact. Very little brain damage. She's sturdier than we both thought." Bren grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. The doctor smiled ironically, "Or luckier." Bren felt almost as tired as the woman sleeping on the bed. He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "It's pure luck. Now that she's awake, how long until she's on her feet?" He'd asked before, but he was compelled to ask again. Gareck checked a few last reports, then headed for the lifts. "After five days of doing nothing but watch bars and lines on a viewscreen, I need one hell of a run. So do you." He added pointedly as Bren slowly followed him out of the med bay. Bren smiled slightly, "Yes, Doctor. How long?" Gareck hit the button for the health deck and stretched his arms out in front of him, "It will be another couple days until she can actually be moved from the bed without the chance of a relapse occurring. A week or two after that before she can stand. We'll start a physical therapy routine for her this week, which will speed up recovery time." The doctor shrugged, "After that it's up to her. From what little we know about her, she'll either heal quickly or she'll keep trying to do too much too fast, and she'll be right back in the med bay." Bren nodded at the doctor's assessment, "If she tries to get out of bed or have it moved to the flight deck, let me know. I'll ... Reason with her." That made Gareck laugh. "I'd like to see that." He said with a smile, "I remember when she first showed up in the med bay two weeks ago. Reason did not appear to be part of her essential makeup." Just like that, Bren was suddenly amused. He grinned and let the doctor precede him on to the health deck, "She'll learn." *** "I still don't like this idea. I want this noted as my formal complaint." Sophia drummed her fingers on the broad negotiation table for lack of anything better to do. She was tucked snugly into one of the chairs, washed, dressed, primped and painted. In other words, trapped. "Acknowledged." "Ignored." She muttered at Bren's back. He turned and raised an eyebrow at her, "You heard what I said, Bren. This is a stupid, dangerous idea. I won't even bother to call it a plan, because it's not." "It's the best plan we have. If we put Esterhazy off any longer, people are going to start wondering if there's a reason we suddenly decided we needed an Anatorayen ambassador, then suddenly decided we didn't. Since the king knows that you're actually missing and not off at some religious retreat, both he and Esterhazy probably know you're here. Any more delays and we run the risk of them simply admitting that you're missing and accusing me of kidnapping an Anatorayen princess on every newscreen from here to Kyr Castle." Bren paced the negotiation room in his dress uniform, making sure that none of Sophia's injuries or the medical equipment attached to her were noticeable. For once, Sophia wasn't conflicted by her intense attraction to the man and the mechanic. She was still healing, so her appreciation was wholly an aesthetic one. He was a striking man. He was also a stubborn, annoying man. "I understand all that. But it would be safer if you simply let him see that I wasn't on the Silvana at all. We can push the Warlock into storage and I can hide there until he's satisfied his curiosity and gone." "No." Sophia rolled her eyes and continued to drum her fingers on the table. So far all her suggestions had met with the same incontrovertible denial. "So much for negotiation. What was your original excuse to contact him? Something about Anatorayen contracts?" "Yes. The Silvana is famous for turning down any contracts that originate or terminate in Anatorayen territory." "I know that." "Don't interrupt." His voice was mild. Where Sophia was frustrated by the slow healing process and apt to take it out on Bren, he was entirely unaffected. She was tempted to fake a relapse just to see if the man would even flinch. He pushed another chair closer to hers and studied the effect even as he explained, "Saying that we were considering Anatorayen contracts gave us the perfect excuse to ask about the royal family and you, so we could find out what you were up to. It's not like you were going to tell us anything." She wanted to argue her side, but she just sighed and nodded. She'd had her reasons, but had already heard and dismissed them. They didn't matter to him. "Then instead of just telling me what was going on, you decided to test the buoyancy of a dead ship in mid-air." One corner of his mouth twitched upward at her spurt of poorly suppressed laughter, "So we had to delay him. We said we had an emergency contract come in, and headed for Yorktown at top speed." "But Esterhazy started making subtle threats to put the Silvana all over the newscreens, so we turned the ship around and are now waiting at the rendezvous. Esterhazy will board the Silvana, under guard at all times, and come to you to be convinced that you're happy, healthy, and here on your own recognizance. Then he'll be escorted back to his ship and sent home." Sophia shook her head slowly, "It's not that easy." His eyebrows dipped down, and then someone spoke to him on his comm and his expression cleared. He tapped his collar once and said "Acknowledged. We're ready in my negotiation room. Bring him in." Then he looked back at Sophia. "Easy or not, his ship has just started docking procedures. He'll be here in twenty minutes." Chapter 22 Bren watched Sophia react to his words as though he'd punched her in the stomach, slumping forward slightly so that he couldn't see her face as she flinched. He came to stand next to her at the table, but did not touch her. Within moments she was sitting ramrod-straight again. "Tell me." He demanded, thoroughly exasperated. It was bad enough that while she was still healing, he was wrestling with a host of emotions related to her presence, the crash, and her recovery. If she was going to return to her earlier habit of never telling him anything, he was going to lock her down in the med bay. But this time it was different. It wasn't that Sophia wouldn't tell him what was wrong. She couldn't. It was evident in her troubled expression and the way she shrugged, obviously uncomfortable and yet still graceful. "I don't know. I am sorry, Bren, but something just makes meThis is a bad idea." "He can't hurt you here." He said, for what must have been the tenth time in the last two days. She seemed to not even hear the words. Frustrated, Bren stood at her side and faced the door, waiting for Miller and Esterhazy to appear. Miller had left her comms open, so Bren could hear her talking, although he could not hear the man's responses. They were close. He was impatient to see Esterhazy. It had been six years since he'd seen the man, and even then Bren hadn't paid much attention to him. Carolina had discounted Philip Esterhazy entirely as being nothing more than a overly pretty boy that had interested her brother for the moment. Could he really have killed Carolina? Sabotaged the Warlock? It didn't seem likely, given what he remembered of Esterhazy, but Sophia's paranoia wasn't faked. She genuinely believed herself to be in danger. If Esterhazy was the source of Sophia's fear, then Bren wanted him on the Silvana. He wanted the man right where he could watch him, control him, and if need be, toss him off the edge of the flight deck and claim he'd never set foot on the ship. "Get ready." He said to Sophia, but she didn't need the warning. Outwardly she looked composed and serene. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that her expression was the truth. "Sophia!" Esterhazy strode forward past Miller to make his obeisance to Sophia. Bren looked down on him with a distaste that he kept well-hidden while Philip knelt on the deck and prostrated himself in the way that all Anatorayen citizens were expected to before their royalty. If any man had done so to Bren, he would have kicked him in the head. "Good morning, Philip. How kind of you to come all this way to see me. Do you bring messages that require my attention? As you can see," She gestured to the empty table between them, "I have both the time and space to tend to correspondence, so I will not delay you for long." This time Bren had to keep a straight face because of laughter, not disgust. Sophia made it sound like the Silvana was her home and that Esterhazy had just dropped by to deliver her mail. He had to give the man still kneeling on the floor credit, though. When Esterhazy looked up, it was with a smile that gave nothing away. "If I had known you were here for certain, your Grace, I would have wheeled in a stack of letters from your admirers, all frantic at your recent disappearance and needing reassurance. As it was, I had to chase hopes and rumors to find you, and pray that I found you safe and well." Sophia matched him smile for smile, and ignored everything he said. "This is my good friend, John Bren, Captain of the Silvana. You have already met his first officer, Lisa Miller. Both have been generous in their gift of the Silvana for my pleasure." "Surrounded by friends as always, your Grace. I am glad for that." The tone he used didn't sound sinister, but Bren didn't like his choice of words anyway, "I had feared that you might fall in amongst those who did not love you as we do." "How kind." Sophia was better than Esterhazy for keeping her voice warm and welcoming while speaking outright lies. Ever since he'd faced her himself over the same table, Bren knew that she was a consummate negotiator. Now he could tell that he'd barely given her a challenge. "As you can see, I've been so diverted by my time on the Silvana that I'd completely forgotten about my duties, which you have so thoughtfully brought here to me." Bren couldn't help himself. He shot a glance over Esterhazy's head at Miller, who was grinning her appreciation from where she stood behind the man. She might not have liked the crack about the Silvana being practically handed over to Sophia, but she obviously approved of the skillful way that the woman handled Esterhazy. If Sophia had treated him like she treated her brother's lover, he would have put her on the ground without any regrets. But she hadn't. Apart from that one infuriating meeting, she had been relatively candid with him. Maybe not honest, but at least she hadn't jerked him around with diplomatic words like she was doing right now. Bren still hadn't had the chance to get Sophia alone and rake her down for trying to kill herself. He wanted to yell at her, to trap her in a chair and force her to admit that she was only alive because she was lucky. The panel's edge had punched into her thigh but only nicked her femoral artery. If it had gone any deeper, she would have been dead before the Warlock hit the ground. If she had not been conscious and able to slap a tourniquet on the thigh, she might still have died before Gareck had got to her. Bren was starkly aware that luck had saved him from losing yet another Forrester woman, and this one was no more cautious or caring of her own life than her sister. "I do have some matters that require your personal attention." Esterhazy was saying, and the apologetic way he said it caught Bren's attention. "If there were a more private setting, I would be delighted to review them with you." Sophia gave a clear laugh, "This is the most private we've ever been, Philip. If you can't talk to me here, you can't talk to me anywhere!" "A hundred relatives feels like less of a crowd than a handful of strangers." His knees had to have been killing him, but Esterhazy's smile was as charming as ever. "How strange that you would feel that way." Sophia mused. Confident that she was still handling the ambassador easily, Bren went back to his thoughts. Miller or Sophia would tell him if there was anything important he missed, so he didn't have to listen to the interminable drone of politics. Esterhazy was certainly better at the game than he used to be. When Bren had first met him, he'd seemed little more than a nervous toady. Now he was far more adept at appearing self-possessed and knowledgeable, the two most important things for an ambassador to learn, however much they were lies. Just knowing that didn't help Bren any. He wanted to know if he would have to prepare all the necessary comm trails to fake Esterhazy's departure before he had the man killed. He wasn't going to let anyone get away with pinning Carolina's death on him, and he certainly wasn't going to put Sophia in any more danger than she had already heedlessly brought upon herself. Before he made any plans, he needed to know for sure he was letting an innocent man go free or condemning a guilty man to death. He watched Esterhazy with narrowed eyes, but the man didn't do a thing to sway Bren's opinion one way or the other. He would have to wait and see. Esterhazy said something, and Sophia froze. Bren's gun was in his hand and warm before his mind had managed to recall what it was that Esterhazy had said. Something about the newscreens speculating on Sophia's disappearance. He was still on his knees looking up at Bren, but apart from falling silent, he hadn't reacted at all to the gun pointed at his head. Esterhazy raised his eyebrows, waiting. "As you can see," Sophia said slowly and clearly into the thin quiet, "My friends are as protective of me as any family might be. Thank you, Bren." It was an obvious command. He powered the gun down and put it back in its holster. "It looks as though we would all be better after a rest, your Grace." Esterhazy continued on as though he hadn't just nearly gotten his head shot off, "Could I have your permission to return to my quarters until you are pleased to speak with me again?" No one pointed out that Esterhazy hadn't been assigned any quarters on board the Silvana. "I have no desire to force you to dance attendance upon me, Philip. If you have no official business for me, you're free to return to your own interests." Sophia's voice was no longer warm, now she was impatient and didn't care if Esterhazy could hear it. "There is only one piece of official business. Your father was anxious to ensure that you were well-attended no matter where you were, so he encouraged me to place myself at your disposal when I found you." Esterhazy pulled a small packet from inside his coat and tilted his hand so that Bren could see the seal of Anatoray at the bottom, proving that it was an official document. Bren shook his head, exasperated. The Anatorayens had been at the forefront of buoyancy technology, inventing the Claudia engine no more than a hundred years ago, but they were still using wax seals to legitimize their paperwork. It was a miracle that Carolina or Sophia knew what an airship was, let alone how to fly one. "We are delighted that you would spend your free time with us here on the Silvana." Sophia was saying to Esterhazy, "I hope you'll give us an hour or two to prepare quarters for you, since we weren't aware that you'd be staying. Officer Miller will show you the way back to your ship." She didn't even seem to notice the packet in his hand. Esterhazy rose not without effort, Bren was secretly pleased to notice and placed the papers on the table, bowed again, and praised Sophia's beauty, wisdom, and kindness before finally retreating through the door, followed by Miller. Sophia sighed and seemed to deflate a little, resting her elbows on the table and putting her head in her hands. "What the hell just happened?" Bren demanded of her. "He said something, and you panicked." "He's wired." She mumbled into her hands. "What?" "That's what I forgot. He's wired. Passive listening systems." She leaned back and tried to rub at her thigh under the table, her eyes half-closed in pain, "He could pick up a whisper from across a noisy port with all the equipment he carries around. His ship is even more impressive. It's all custom-made, mostly passive so you can't tell what he hears and what he doesn't." Bren pulled her chair out and pointed at her when she tried to stand up, "Stay. I'll get the med chair." He went to the negotiation room's door to request that someone bring the chair back, but one of his officers had anticipated his command, and was waiting at the door with the chair. "Thank you." He took the chair and closed the door behind him. "So he's a professional eavesdropper?" "Yes. Since he spends so much time near the royal family, his recordings sell for good prices on the black market." The matter-of-fact way that Sophia explained it made Bren's skin crawl. He could never live like that, knowing that every word and deed was being recorded, packaged and sold to random people around the world. He was silent while he helped Sophia back into the chair and made sure the diagnostic pads were flat against her skin without getting in her way. He stroked a hungry hand along the inside of her arm and she gave him a wry smile. "So what can we expect from him, then? Is that bugged?" He nodded toward the packet that still lay innocently on the table. "No. It's a capital crime to interfere with royal business. That, at least, is legitimate. Sik must have put the king up to it." Sophia sighed loudly as she finally relaxed in the med chair, "I don't know what we can expect, yet. Don't talk about it over any comms channel. He'll be monitoring those. Don't let him touch anything. Other than that, I need sleep, food, and time to think." She looked exhausted. Up close, he could see the pale color of her skin under the makeup. The red glints that were usually trapped in her braid were gone. "The most I can offer you right now is food. We don't have time for anything else." He leaned down until his hands were on the arms of the chair, a contraption backed by several viewscreens and control panels, with wires snaking over the back and arms like a sinister homage to some ophidian king. He leaned closer, until his breath mingled with Sophia's, "I'm on your side. Between us and the Silvana, we'll get you out of this." She smiled up at him, tired but ready for anything, "I'm counting on it." Chapter 23 "At least you've finally admitted that the food from the galley is safe to eat." Bren said as he shifted Sophia's med chair closer to the small table that served as both desk and dining table in his quarters. His voice was soft as ever; the revelation that Philip Esterhazy was a spy had distracted him for only a moment. The best Sophia could give him in response was a faint grimace that was intended to be a smile. She was too busy kicking herself mentally. How could she have forgotten something so important? For as long as she could remember, she'd known to hold her tongue whenever Philip was in residence at Kyr Castle, to precede him into any room, and follow him out. To assume that nowhere was it safe to speak her mind. It had become merely another reason among many to keep her opinions and plans to herself. It must have become too much like a second nature to remain silent around Philip, because she'd completely forgotten why she had to. Not even short-term memory loss was excuse enough to stop her from berating herself. So many things depended on her ability to remember who was friend and who was foe, and who was both or neither! "Sophia. Are you paying attention? Sophia? Respond, Pilot Forrester." "What?" She reached out reflexively to slam the comms button - which tended to stick - and then realized she wasn't in the Warlock at all. She frowned up at Bren, "What? I was thinking." "Think out loud." He commanded, "I've been holding my tongue for the last ten minutes because of what you said in my negotiation room. I need to issue orders, and I'm waiting on your advice." Sophia winced at his blunt words, "I appreciate your caution. I was simply beating my poor brain to remember everything I could about Philip and his eavesdropping devices." "Start with the basics. Is it safe to talk at all?" He nudged her plate toward her slightly, and Sophia took the hint. Only then did Bren continue eating. She wondered how long he'd been trying to get her attention. After a moment to collect her thoughts that took longer than she would admit to anyone, Sophia spoke. "Yes, it's safe. For the moment, at least. Philip isn't permitted to use any equipment that actively seeks out sound or data. He can use only passive listening devices, as I said before. And so far he's had no opportunity to leave any devices around where we might talk." "Has he ever been caught using more than passive technology?" Bren's voice was knowing. Sophia grinned at him, glad to have a compatriot as neurotic as she was. She didn't believe that Philip could be trusted either, "No, but he's rarely under direct oversight, so who's to say whether he's occasionally more zealous in his information gathering techniques?" "So nothing can be said as long as he or his devices are within what distance? Thirty feet?" Sophia nodded. "How small are these portable listeners?" It took a long time for her to remember, "About the size of your thumb. They can be easily hidden, but also easily found." "What about his ship's equipment?" Bren mused, "You said it monitors comms channels, which is why I'm here talking to you instead of to Miller." She inclined her head slightly, since her mouth was full. "What else does it do?" Sophia reached out for her water and washed down the food she'd just swallowed. If anyone had asked her right then what she'd eaten, she would have been completely unable to answer. "That's the problem. I don't know. I'm not sure if I'm remembering everything I should, and it's been years since I saw a full accounting of the equipment on his ship." "Probably no chance of finding out now." Bren muttered, "Since that packet gives him full diplomatic immunity." "And worse, since he's here as the highest ranking member of my entourage, unfortunately, he's completely inviolate. You have to treat him as though he was my equal. Full rights and privileges. Apart from matters of safety, you have no reason to deny him any access to anything on the Silvana." Bren sighed and pushed his empty plate away, reached into the nearby floor locker. He pulled out a glass bottle of what Sophia recognized as expensive Disith brandy and unhooked the cap while he stared at the viewscreen hanging above the table. There was a meditative air about him as he sipped from the bottle, so Sophia went back to her dinner and let him think. Halfway through her meal, his air changed, and he tapped his comm in response to a voice that she couldn't hear, "No problems? Good. Come see me in my quarters, I have a report I want to review with you." Bren spoke again only after Sophia had finished eating. He cleaned up the dishes and put them in the dumbwaiter slot as he laid out his plans. "For the time being, we can use paper notes for anything sensitive, instead of the comms. We'll make up some excuse to keep him quartered in a heavily monitored sector, so he can't tap into the channels using active listening devices. Finally, I'll assign some kind of honor guard to him so that it will be harder for him to leave devices anywhere else on the Silvana." "If he's constantly attended by an honor guard, he'll ask why I'm not." She pointed out. "You have an honor guard: you have me." Bren seemed to think that was an unassailable arrangement. Sophia couldn't help but smile. She let the statement pass without comment. "We need him silenced, since we can't get him off the ship." He turned back to her, his green eyes sharp behind his glasses. "How much can I get away with?" Sophia shifted in the med chair and ran her fingertips over the sleeve covering one of her arms. The injuries she'd sustained while boarding the Silvana were now mostly healed, but she still felt achy and abnormally cautious because of her most recent crash. "Not a single thing, I'm afraid. As much as I would like to see you put him back on the ground by force or by guile, there's no way to do it. I am his highest priority, and none of us can change that." "I know that." "Pass that over." She gestured to the bottle on the table, and he hesitated for a short moment before doing as she asked. "The reasons you can't silence him are the same reasons you can't just make him disappear into the airstream. As an ambassador of Anatoray, he's untouchable and unmovable. Any interference would be considered a hostile act. If he went missing, or was harmed or threatened in any way, it would be seen as an attempt to coerce me into, well, it doesn't matter what your reasoning would be, it would look like you'd kidnapped me. The Anatorayen military would be mobilized against the Silvana." Bren made a sound of acknowledgement, but his eyes were on the time in the lower corner of the viewscreen. Before Sophia could say anything else, there was a chime, and Bren reached over to the control panel between the table and the storage area to flip the switch to open the door. Miller walked in, her stride long-legged because of the speed she'd used getting to Bren's quarters through long corridors. Seeing Sophia sitting at the table didn't even make her pause. She simply nodded to her as she walked past, disappearing briefly into the sleeping area to get the heavy chair that sat in the corner opposite the bed. She settled into the chair and stretched her legs out, looking up at the ceiling. Sophia glanced toward Bren to find him watching Miller patiently. "Ambassador Esterhazy is no friend of yours, princess Sophia." She said abruptly. "Pilot Forrester." Sophia corrected. Miller gave her an unreadable look from under lowered eyelids, not bothering to tilt her chin down to look at her directly. "I'll want a report later." Bren said coolly, "Right now, you need to be brought up to altitude on why he's really here and what we can't do about it." "Can't?" Sophia decided to cut in before Bren could lay out all her secrets in front of Miller. She knew that Miller was Bren's trusted advisor, but that didn't mean Sophia was ready to trust her with everything. "Before we start, did Philip give you anything or was he out of your sight at any time?" "No. Mostly he tried to convince me that he was doing a terrible job of hiding his true intentions." "Espionage." Bren said flatly. Sophia didn't contradict him, even though she disagreed. She believed that even the espionage was cover for yet another objective. "That much was obvious." Miller put her hands behind her head, "He was definitely here for information about the princess, but he was intimating that he was secretly charged to protect her from whoever her family or her nation fears is liable to do terrible things to her. He wasn't clear on what that could be or who would do it, since he was ostensibly presenting himself as a simple ambassador and courtier." Bren took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "So he's a spy pretending to be a servant pretending to be a savior." "The spy concerns me the most." Sophia said, "This will most likely be the last time we can speak without fear of being recorded. I can tell you all I remember of Philip's methods and tools for eavesdropping, but he may be using more advanced technology now. We are all now effectively trapped on the Silvana with him until he chooses to leave." She put extra emphasis on the last few words, because she could tell that Bren was still entertaining the idea of throwing the man off the flight deck. It seemed to be a psychological result of having a flight deck big enough for the task. She remembered that it had been Banks' first thought when she'd slid the Warlock across his deck. Miller lowered her chin until she was face to face with Sophia, "This is the man you nearly killed yourself trying to get away from, right? What aren't you telling us?" Sophia sighed, annoyed both at the circumstances of the crash, and at having to defend her decision once again, "I wasn't trying to kill myself. I would have made a good landing if I hadn't passed out." "Esterhazy might be here to kill Sophia. He might have also killed Carolina Forrester." Bren's blunt explanation made Miller tilt her head back again and slump in her chair. "It couldn't be something simple." She sighed heavily before regaining her equanimity, "In summary, we have a potential regicide with recording devices and full access to everything on the Silvana. Anything else?" "We can't make him leave. You forgot that part." Bren gave his first officer a slight smile and the bottle of brandy. Sophia wasn't pleased that he had just revealed everything, but now was not the time to argue about security. As much as it made her uncomfortable to let a third person in on her secrets, she needed their help. Miller took a long draw on the bottle before handing it back to Bren, "Thanks. You'd better start the debriefing, then. We don't have much time before he'll be asking where his quarters are, and we need to have our plans laid out by then." "We can't do much more than hold him off for a while." Sophia admitted, "I can't think of any way to convince him to leave the Silvana, and his duty, that wouldn't be seen as coercion or deception." "Is that the plan, then?" Miller glanced at Bren, "Try to get him off the ship?" "I don't know." Bren said quietly, "Sophia hasn't said what her plans are." Chapter 24 Bren stopped Miller before she left his quarters. "I want you available at all times." He said in a low voice, "Who do you have that can keep Esterhazy busy while still being diplomatic?" Miller pursed her lips and stared at the ceiling for a moment, "Saul Darska, maybe. As long as he keeps his lies believable." Bren grinned as he recalled a few of Darska's most memorable antics. The man was a menace; constantly interpreting orders in a way that obeyed them to the letter while causing the most trouble for everyone. Bren would have put him on the ground years ago if he hadn't been so good at his job. He was also an excellent source of stress relief for the higher security crew; tales of his most recent misconduct regularly made the rounds on private comm channels and inter-deck memos. He'd drive Esterhazy crazy. "Good. Debrief him and assign him to Esterhazy as soon as you can. And while you're on the flight deck, warn the mechanics not to use comm channels or ship records for anything concerning Sophia or the Warlock." "Yes, sir." She let herself out. Bren turned back to Sophia once the door was closed, "What was that about?" He asked her evenly. She was pale, but defiant. "The less people who know I am here, the less likely we'll draw even more attention." "So you chose to insult my first officer instead?" She spread her hands, palms up. "Be reasonable, Bren. Even if Miller is absolutely trustworthy, having yet another person privy to every single one of my secrets is only asking for trouble." He gave her a sharp look and she sighed heavily, "No, I don't think she'll say anything wrong in Philip's presence, but if we three are all wary of him, that will cause other people in your crew to react differently as well. Philip surely notice that. It will make him more likely to think that something is wrong, and to investigate..." "I get it." He said flatly, as much to stop her from talking as anything else. Sophia's lips thinned, but she controlled her reaction faster than Bren expected. It made him wary. She could be completely unreasonable when it came to her own safety or the security of the Warlock, but if she was retreating behind a diplomatic faηade, then she was hiding even more secrets. "Are you going to bother telling me about this plan of yours?" He asked softly, "Or should I just walk away?" She shifted in her chair and looked away from him, "You offered me the Silvana and her crew. More importantly, you offered your own support. But you're basing this all on the belief that I know what I'm doing. Or even that I'm sure that Sik and Philip were involved in Carolina's death. I could be imagining the whole thing." "I knew that when I said it." "Stop and think, Bren! My brother may have arranged to have my sister killed, but I have no proof! Until I have damning evidence, I don't dare let any of my suspicions be known. Not to anyone." Her brown hair was an artful arrangement of braids and curls and delicate chains scavenged from Miller's own jewelry. He preferred the simple braid she usually wore; it meant he could see the fine curve of her neck. He took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, thinking through the possibilities. She might be telling the truth, or her sudden outburst might be intentional, a ploy to manipulate him into keeping silent. He did understand her need for secrecy, even if he resented her attempt to hide the truth from his crew and especially his first officer. "I trust my people." He said finally in his soft voice, "With my life, and with yours." "How many people are on board the Silvana?" Sophia asked. "Crew or complement?" "Either." Bren though briefly, "A little over four thousand crew, and another thousand on shore leave or administrative leave." "Can you trust all of them? Every single one? And their friends and relatives?" Bren came forward suddenly and turned Sophia's med chair around so he could push it out of his quarters and into the hall. She look up at him sharply, but when he refused to say anything, she let it go and asked to be given a few minutes to wash the makeup off her face and untangle her hair. While he waited for Sophia to wash up, Bren opened a comm channel to the bridge. "I want Denali." The officer's voice came back immediately, "Here, Captain." "Put out a ship's bulletin for an impromptu ball game on the health deck in thirty minutes." There was a short, charged silence, then, "Yes, sir. What rules, sir?" He kept his voice a little too casual, but Bren wasn't going to call attention to it. "Home rules. Make it happen." He tapped his comm off to find that Sophia had managed to get her med chair wedged in the open door and was staring at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Code words." He explained. She smiled ruefully, "Of course. I should have realized that as soon as you spoke. How much time do we have before we need to deal with Philip again?" Bren glanced toward the viewscreen as he tried to get Sophia and the med chair extricated from the doorway. "An hour at most. Enough time for you to see Gareck." "Bren." Sophia stopped him before the door to his quarters opened, "Wait." He waited. Without the subtle alterations of the makeup, she looked more like the woman who had burned in his hands weeks ago, and in his dreams more recently. She looked up at him for a long moment, and he wondered what she saw in his face that made her smile a little. "One last time." She said, "You're taking on a enormous risk in standing by me. If I'm wrong, you'll be seen as a credulous victim, which will destroy your reputation as a courier." Her voice was calm, "But if I'm right in my suspicions, and I somehow manage to die while aboard the Silvana..." "Then Anatoray will attack the Silvana, and I'll probably be killed along with everyone else." Bren finished for her. Sophia shrugged slightly, "And Anatoray will be governed by a sororicide." "Probably not the first time." He was rewarded with a real smile, one that included him in the joke and made him remember clearly why he'd chosen to back her. She was fascinating. "We'll have this fight again, Bren. And more than once." He pushed her out into the hall and headed for the public lift, "But for now, we have a common enemy. Tell Gareck to shut down his data stores and to use only paper for his notes." "And you'll be doing the same on the health deck?" Sophia asked as he got them both into the lift, "Telling everyone to shut down their data facilities and rely on paper?" She was obviously uneasy about the idea, but willing to trust him for the moment. He counted that as a good sign for the future. "Just the admin department. No one else has any sensitive information that would interest Esterhazy or compromise you." The expression on Sophia's face was unhappy, but determined. "I understand." She said. The same expression reappeared when Gareck greeted them and announced that Sophia would be spending the full hour learning to walk again. Bren left her in good hands and headed down to the health deck with a certain measure of impatience. It would take five minutes to tell his security people all that they needed to know. The rest of the hour he intended to play on the ship's single ball court. The sight of Sophia in that damn med chair was starting to make his own muscles twitch in sympathy. He needed to run off some adrenaline before he saw Esterhazy again, or else he'd have a warm gun pointed at the man's head and this time he wouldn't wait for Sophia's order. A single man had the Silvana under lockdown, and Bren wanted him off the ship by diplomacy or force. *** The strange thing about being so heavily injured, Sophia thought, was that she did not feel much real pain. There was the stretching pain of muscles that had been too long unused, and the warning pain when she worked them too hard, and the dull throb when the doctor allowed her to finally stand still. But those were all effects that could be explained and compartmentalized. Mostly she felt utterly exhausted and it covered her thoughts and reactions with a heavy cloud that could not be ignored or negotiated with or controlled. "Again, please." Gareck's voice broke through Sophia's torpor and she grimly took hold of the bars and pushed herself up once more. Soon she would have to tangle with Philip. Then she had to find some way to keep him from discovering why she was on the Silvana or that she suspected him or her brother in her sister's death. She had to keep both his and her own true intentions from being disseminated to the crew and from there, to the rest of the world. She had to protect herself from a possible assassination, and the Warlock from interference. But the problem that occupied her mind most of all, above the fog of weariness and the bolts of pain, was that she had to keep Bren from going crazy, trapped on his own ship. He was far too likely to take the pirate's approach, throw Esterhazy in the brig or right off the flight deck, and damn the consequences. She couldn't let him do that; there was far too much at stake. "Now rest for a minute." The voice of the doctor again. Her body did as he bade. Her mind struggled to find a way to save them all from the sword that hung above their heads. Chapter 25 Sophia thought wistfully of the Warlock, gleaming under the white lights several decks beneath her feet. If things had gone differently, she could be cracking open the chemical stick on a box of pilot's rations right now, comfortably ensconced in the forward chair. Instead, she was trapped once again in a formal dinner and while the food was a culinary triumph, she would have given anything to be eating pilot's rations washed down with a bottle of beer. Perhaps Bren would let her down to the flight deck after dinner. He hadn't even had to enforce his edict to keep her away from the Warlock until she could walk. All her energy had been consumed with the task of healing. She had trusted him to keep his word, and to keep the Warlock safe. But with Philip on board, she wanted to see her ship with her own eyes, to touch the smooth metal of the hull and reassure herself that she still had wings. Especially when he started talking about her ship. "I don't believe I've ever seen that vanship looking so pristine." He was saying. "You haven't." Bren murmured, soft but clear. He wasn't being deliberately provoking, but he was no happier to be at the table than Sophia was. She smiled, outwardly serene. "You saw the result of weeks of work, including assistance and invaluable advice from Captain Bren." Philip displayed poorly concealed surprise, "He must be the ultimate authority on vanships. I recall that you declined all offers of help when you first started to rebuild it." Bren concentrated on his next bite of fish and let her answer. He was willing to follow her lead, which was some comfort. She decided to entertain Philip's choice of conversational topic, to see where he intended to go. "If not all vanships, then at least mine. As you know, he owned the Warlock before I did. No one could have come better recommended to me than the man who had designed some of the very systems I was restoring." "It certainly came as a surprise to your many admirers when you suddenly up and took off in the ship to find this guru of yours, your grace. Did you intend to seek him out all along? The initial proposal submitted to the Projects Office shows that the ship was slated to be restored as a memorial to Princess Carolina, not an unregistered airship for your personal convenience." Philip's expression had become stern but it was only a pretense, so Sophia knew they hadn't gotten to the meat of the discussion yet. The sudden interrogation was little more than pandering to the black market listeners who wanted to hear her squirm. She gave him equally false concern, "It would be debasing my sister's memory to restore the ship she is famous for piloting, only to keep it on the ground. As for your insinuation that I would hold myself above the laws that apply to all Anatorayens, I am dismayed that you would assume such a thing without supporting evidence. If you had taken the time to investigate, you would have found that the ship is clearly registered in my name. I have always permitted scrutiny of my life, and I have no reason to discourage it now or ever." She put extra stress on the word 'scrutiny' to remind Bren that Philip was recording every word that was spoken. That way Bren would know why she seemed to have suddenly taken affront to Philip's questions, and would remember not to say anything incriminating in front of the man. She concentrated on another few bites of dinner while Philip gabbled apologies at her, each more insincere than the last, but it was standard diplomatic procedure so she let him run on. She gave the appropriate responses when required but otherwise ignored what was actually said until he began digging for information again. "And of course no one could fault you for your dedication to the restoration of Princess Carolina's ship, your grace. It looks magnificent. How much of the work were you able to accomplish on your own, and how much of Captain Bren's assistance were you compelled to accept?" He was definitely interested in the ship. Sophia throttled back her first response, which was to defend the Warlock, to shut down the entire line of questioning and insist that the ship was off-limits. Instead, she let him talk. Eventually she'd know exactly what his plans were. She tilted a smile toward Bren, who was watching in sharp-eyed silence, turning his wine glass around in the cradle of one hand. "The work done on the ship cannot be so easily attributed to any one person. Not only did the Captain help me with design, restoration and repairs, several of the Silvana mechanics also offered their services. The Warlock wouldn't be in the shape he is today without each and every one of them." Though Bren's expression didn't change, his green eyes darkened with amusement. He knew just how accurate her claim was. "Sounds like you'd end up with something neither fish nor fowl with that many different views on how the ship should be restored." Philip mused. Sophia heard the unspoken threat. He'd already mentioned the Projects Office, which meant he was trying to catch her in an admission that she'd not kept to her original submitted plan to restore the Warlock faithfully. She swiftly moved to defend herself. "The changes are only as deep as the paint job, Philip. Every system is as close to the original as possible. Why else would I have sought out Carolina's own mechanic? Captain Bren has contributed his own recollections of the Warlock's original design and modifications to my sister's sparse notes. He has been a critical part of the accuracy of this restoration." "If Carolina's vanship had truly been restored down to the callsign and comms frequencies, I think everyone would have noticed it traveling from Anatoray to the Silvana." Philip said dryly, "It would have blazed a path across the newscreens. Instead, your flight plan was conducted in such secrecy that your own people feared that you had vanished, and even the king was disposed to send me to act as your attendant since you left with no entourage." "My flight plans are a matter of public record." She said with perfect truth. Bren snickered. He recognized it as the exact same thing she'd told him when she first confronted him on the Silvana. Philip gave him a wary glance but returned his attention almost immediately to Sophia, "If that is so, your sudden departure still seems unduly secretive, your grace." She took another bite of dinner and gave him a bland smile, daring him to challenge her on the issue. If he did, she could accuse him of harassing her and pursuing his own agenda, perhaps even being controlled by his black market customers instead of holding the Anatorayen royal family as his primary loyalty. He sucked in a quick breath, as though suddenly thinking of something, "One wonders..." "Yes?" Sophia got out between her teeth, her hopes dashed. She knew he was about to play his trump card, though she didn't yet know what form it would take. Philip took a meditative sip of his wine, "It occurs to me that there is another reason why you might have arranged matters so that no one knew you were alone aboard the Silvana. Captain Bren has, after all, been linked romantically with one Anatorayen princess already." Sophia looked Philip straight in the eye and wished she hadn't just realized that her jammer was down in the Warlock, several decks below. Why had that stupid crash caused her to forget everything important? It was thoroughly aggravating even when it wasn't outright dangerous. "I have no idea why you feel the need to ruin a perfect dinner with wild accusations, Philip. What else will you theorize before dessert arrives, I wonder. I humbly apologize, Captain Bren, Officer Miller. Please don't take Ambassador Esterhazy's conduct as representative of the people of my country." Never mind that both Bren and Philip were also Anatorayen. Philip was forced to apologize again, and Sophia relaxed slightly. He wouldn't try to corner her again so soon after being brought to book on his previous attempt. The rest of the dinner conversation would follow safer topics, which gave her time to think. The jammer wasn't much of an advantage, but it was more than she had ten minutes ago. She didn't know how to get Philip off the Silvana just yet, but she'd just bought herself more time to think of a way. *** Bren left Sophia in the private lift and headed out on to the flight deck to find Banks. He hadn't walked far before he realized that the ships on the deck had been moved around. The Warlock was not in its usual space, and several ships were parked on the deck in such a way that he couldn't see beyond the first few ships. There was no straight line of sight anywhere. He spotted the Warlock tucked away near the wall on one side, far from Esterhazy's ship and smiled slowly. Banks was no idiot. He found the Head Mechanic holding court in the middle of an assortment of equipment that made his hands itch to do some tinkering. "Pilot Forrester and I are going to look over the Warlock." He reported, and Banks gave him a sharp look, "I didn't want to screw up your numbers." He added casually. Banks grinned widely, and Bren squeezed the man's shoulder once in silent thanks. He knew very well why Banks had suddenly decided on doing a haphazard audit. It meant that the Warlock was out of sight of Esterhazy's ship. And with the note that Sophia had written after dinner, he knew that she had some way of making sure they couldn't be overheard while on the Warlock. Out of sight and out of hearing of Esterhazy's surveillance equipment. It wasn't a perfect solution the man was still on his ship but it was a start. Chapter 26 Bren flicked the jammer so that it spun gently in place on the tiny table that folded down between the pilot's and navi's chairs. The egg-shaped device was small enough to fit in a pocket, and when activated it emitted a low hiss interrupted randomly by a soft popping noise. "It's annoying." He finally said. "It does what it's designed to do." Sophia leaned back in the pilot's chair and closed her eyes with a long sigh. Bren watched her for signs that the awkward scramble up the side of the Warlock had done any damage to her still-healing body. She looked exhausted, but not in any real pain. After a moment, she tilted her head down to meet his gaze again. "This is all I have for you. Just a trick to buy us a few minutes of privacy." "It's a start." He flicked the jammer so that it spun again. "I assumed you wouldn't allow me to use any kind of jamming equipment. What changed your mind?" "Nothing." She smiled wryly, "I didn't even think of jamming equipment. Everything that could be a danger or a boon to me, I've forgotten." Her gaze turned inward, and he could tell that she was about to start brooding again. "I'm still here." He reminded her. Sophia inclined her head slightly toward Bren, "I haven't forgotten you." He nodded abruptly and picked up the device for a closer look. It was a flattened egg-shaped piece of metal with a slight depression in one end that held a covered switch. Other than that, it was completely featureless. "I could have my crew put jammers on all our comms, but that would look like we had something to hide, right?" "Precisely." "Then how are we getting away with this?" He asked as he put the device back down on the table. "Royal privilege. This jammer has a special signature that all comm snoops are expected to recognize. They are supposed to ignore any message scrambled with this signature." Bren gave Sophia a look full of disbelief, "So the only thing that makes this work is everyone agreeing to ignore it? We've got a man on board who has no intention of doing that." Sophia turned the pilot's chair to one side and reached into a compartment near her knee, "While I would not expect Philip to abide by the laws concerning listening devices, I think he would think twice about contravening this one. The nobility gets very irrational when someone takes away their little privileges." She pulled a protein bar out of the compartment, unwrapped it, and took a huge bite out of the tasteless brick. Bren couldn't help but laugh. "Laugh all you want, but I'm hungry." She said around another bite, "Dinner was excellent, but I could barely eat with Philip staring me down, waiting for me to make a mistake." Her complaint reminded Bren that Esterhazy was more than just an intellectual exercise. He checked his chron and decided they didn't dare leave the jammer on for much longer. "Could we wire it into the Silvana's comms and scramble a single pair of messages? One outgoing, one incoming. That wouldn't look suspicious." Sophia winced and finished her protein bar before answering, "Yes ... You could. What would you send?" Bren ignored her obvious discomfort. He knew she was just being paranoid again. It was a good way to stay alive he'd worked the same way when he was younger but she needed to grow up. "A request for information. Where were Esterhazy and your brother when Carolina took the Warlock out on that mission? I want to know if they had any contact with Lexington Port personnel before or after." He waited patiently as she thought about his idea, but he could tell almost immediately that she was going to reject it. Eventually, she shook her head. "I don't think it's enough, Bren. It might be worth trying to find some kind of link at Lexington Port, but while the communications themselves might remain secret, that strange of a request would immediately become gossip. It would be mere hours before Sik or Philip heard about it. That's too much risk for an uncertain reward." "We're running out of time." He handed her the jammer, and she accepted it with an expression as unhappy as he knew his own to be. "We need something that connects them to the crash. What else is there?" Sophia shrugged, staring down at the device as it hissed and popped in the palm of her hand, "Go up in the Warlock and hope one of them tries to sabotage it?" Bren gave her a disgusted look, and she smiled when she looked up and saw it. "It would be proof." "Think of something else." He commanded, fighting the savage desire to pin her down and burn every self-destructive impulse out of her by force of will. He'd been tolerant while she healed, but he could still hear the whisper of her voice, damning him. It wasn't more than a few weeks ago that she'd sat in that chair and made the decision to take her life into her own hands. And now she was threatening to do it again. He couldn't completely ignore the frustration that boiled up inside. He didn't notice that he'd moved until he found himself standing over the pilot's chair with the table folded out of the way and Sophia looking up at him with a guarded expression. He offered her his hands and she took them, trusting him at least in that. "For now, we should keep Esterhazy distracted." He said, taking some of her weight against his body as she found her balance on a leg that was still weak. Her eyes closed slightly as she felt the tension in him. "Give him the scandal he was trying to expose at dinner." Bren had himself mostly under control, but he couldn't stop the glittering surge of adrenaline as he felt her breath quicken and her hands close hard on his arms, "Are you up to it?" "I'll manage." Sophia promised, her voice already rough with anticipation. She was just as ready as he was. Bren gave her a grin that was little more than bared teeth and she flicked the switch on the jammer and tossed it at the pilot's chair. Let Esterhazy listen all he wanted. *** Bren cracked open the Warlock's canopy, then swung out over the edge and slid down the side of the ship in one movement. As his boots hit the deck he could feel the jarring in his knees, and he grunted in annoyance. He was no longer young enough to have sex energetic or not on an unforgiving metal floor without any kind of padding. He'd only thought to open a comms channel and order some blankets to be brought to the Warlock after Sophia had fallen asleep on the cold metal floor. Now she was wrapped up and sleeping deeply. She didn't appear to be in any pain, though she was obviously exhausted and he wasn't going to try and get her back down the side of the Warlock until she was awake. She needed the rest. She certainly hadn't held back earlier; as hungry for him as he had been for her. Then as he had put his clothes back on, she'd yawned, stretched, muttered something unintelligible and fallen asleep. Feeling mentally composed for the first time in weeks, Bren ignored the complaints from his knees and headed for the lifts with the jammer in his pocket. He had some new plans to go over with Miller. *** Sophia surveyed the slice of flight deck she could see over the edge of the Warlock's cabin and wondered how she was going to get down. She didn't have access to any of the comms channels, she couldn't yell loud enough to get anyone's attention, and there was no way she was going to be able to climb down on her own. For the moment, she was content to sit and wait for Bren to remember that she was stuck in the ship. He'd thoughtfully supplied her with blankets at some point, so she was certain that he would return at some point. He'd also taken the jammer with him, which was frustrating, but she knew he wanted Philip off the Silvana and away from her as soon as possible. If he was concentrating on making the jammer work with the Silvana's comms, then he wouldn't be paying as much attention to what she was doing, and Sophia had her own plans for dealing with Philip and her brother. Though she'd said it in jest to Bren, the best way to prove that Sik had engineered Carolina's death was to make him try to engineer her own. It was a brute force approach to gathering evidence, but she had little choice. Any attempt she might make to discover information about her brother would be instantly noticed by Philip. She would have to send up the Warlock and hope that Philip took the bait. He'd spent part of the last dinner digging for information about the Warlock specifically, so she was certain that there was some kind of device on her ship that he had access to. So she would fly the Warlock and wait for him to strike and hope that her foreknowledge of the attack would be enough to save her from whatever had happened to her sister. Sophia went back to the pilot's chair and sat down heavily, letting her damaged leg give way beneath her with a lot less grace than she'd been trained in. When Bren came back, she would ask him for a portable Claudia engine so she could start repairing the Warlock from the cabin outward. It would at least keep her busy while she sat through interminable formal dinners and meetings and let Philip interrogate her about her relationship with her sister's former lover. For now she was feeling too tired and run-down to start any work, so she leaned back and closed her eyes, feeling safe inside her eerily silent ship, even though she knew it was only an illusion. Chapter 27 Bren palmed the button to stop his private lift between floors and leaned up against the cool metal wall, closing his eyes even though the lights were muted. He needed the moment of privacy to gather his thoughts. Between Esterhazy, Sophia, and his normal duties as Captain of the Silvana, he was a man on the edge. And he seemed to be the only one affected. The few crewmembers that were even aware of the communications lockdown seemed to be energized by the potential for danger, instead of disturbed. Esterhazy acted as though he was nothing more than a well-meaning snoop. Sophia was patient with the crew, unruffled by Esterhazy, at turns passionate and candid with Bren in a way that kept him coming back for more. She gave no indication that being under constant surveillance bothered her in the least. Bren drew in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax. He had a reputation for being able to outlast anyone at the negotiating table, but he had the feeling he was going to be the first to crack in this crazy game that Esterhazy and Sophia were playing. They said one thing with their mouths, a second with their eyes, a third with their bodies, and a fourth with their silences. He was a manipulator at heart, but compared to the two of them, he was the soul of honesty. He still wanted Esterhazy off the Silvana, preferably in chains, as soon as possible. He wanted to have the whole tangle resolved. Sophia out of danger. The Silvana and her crew out of danger. Everything back as it was before Sophia had crashed the Warlock. He knew the fastest way to get rid of Esterhazy was to take part in the farce that was about to happen, though he didn't like that either. Everyone was waiting for him down on the flight deck, where he was going to test the Warlock's repairs with a flight down to Lexington Dock. Sophia and Banks had come to some agreement where she allowed the Head Mechanic to work on the ship, and some of the idiot-proof fixes had been assigned to the other mechanics. Between the two of them, they'd made the Warlock flight-ready in the space of a week, all without alerting Esterhazy to the full extent of the repairs they made. Thanks to some inspired storytelling by Darska, Esterhazy believed that there had been a minor accident in flight and that the Warlock's repairs and Sophia's use of a cane stemmed from that incident. It was implied that she was nursing a minor injury instead of recovering slowly from a major one. Bren was reminded why he kept Darska around for the one time in a hundred where the man proved invaluable. Everything was set up for the flight and the secret plan to apply to Dock Administration for any evidence of Sikandar II or Esterhazy's involvement in Carolina's crash. There had been no indication that anything would go wrong with their plan. Bren took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes slowly. He was still suspicious, because of Sophia. She was still hiding something. She would have never let another person not even himself repair the Warlock unless she was in dire need. She'd also agreed a little too readily to the trip to Lexington Dock after her initial resistance. Even when he questioned her motives with the jammer running to cover their conversation, she hadn't given any hint of what schemes were fermenting in her head. So now the Silvana was floating above Lexington Dock, and Bren was going to go down to the flight deck, climb in the ship that had crashed on two separate occasions, and wait to see what Sophia had planned. He opened his eyes and pushed the button to start the lift moving again. *** The scene on the flight deck was a cross between a newscreen production and a free-for-all. All the mechanics were present, as were Miller, Esterhazy, and his security detachment, each person thinking they were the most important on deck. Though a run had been cleared from the Warlock's berth to the edge of the docking bay, there were still other ships and equipment blocking sight-lines all over the place. Esterhazy had set up visual recording gear in several places, and it was as disorganized as any mechanic's toolbox flung all over the deck floor. At the center of it all sat Sophia, straight-backed and smiling, her cane leaned jauntily against one thigh. Bren hung back in the lee of a light scout ship, making note of where everything and everyone stood. Then he strode into the thick of the melee. "Captain Bren." Esterhazy welcomed him with a familiarity that Bren had hated years ago, which had only become more intense over the last few days. "We are discussing the ramifications of this historic flight. What are your opinions? This will be the second time you board this ship with a princess of Anatoray. Will bad luck haunt this flight as it did before? Does this affair," he stressed the word heavily for the newscreen recorders, "Conflict with your ownership of the Silvana? Does your newfound appreciation for Anatorayen contracts mean that the Silvana will lose its vaunted neutral status as a courier?" Bren simply looked at the man until he finally wound down. In his quiet voice, he said "Move your equipment from beyond the aft end unless you want it crushed." He waited while someone explained to Esterhazy which part of the Warlock was aft and the gear was moved. While the man's back was turned, he raised his eyebrows at Miller. She shook her head slightly. There had been no indication that Esterhazy had done anything suspicious when he went to retrieve the recording gear from his ship. Bren still didn't trust him. If Sophia was right and Esterhazy had been instrumental in Carolina's death, then he would be trying anything to get Sophia out of Bren's company. Any manufactured emergency from the Anatorayen government would do. The best weapon he held against Esterhazy was the same one hanging over his head; comm silence. Stepping over the various cables, Bren finally made his way to stand before Sophia. He narrowed his eyes against the vision of a different woman with the same brown hair, loose around her shoulders with red gleaming through it under the white deck lights. It wasn't that Sophia was anything like Carolina. He was exquisitely aware of the differences, but he knew the brief vision was intended as a reminder. He may not have been able to stop Carolina's death, but he was determined to protect Sophia. "Ready to go?" She asked, outwardly serene but obviously impatient to be flying. He looked up at the shining metal skin of the Warlock, then down at its pilot. "Yes." They didn't get much farther than the cockpit before they had their first argument. "No." Bren looked down at Sophia, noted the spark in her eyes. She was almost back to her full strength, and ready for a fight. "I'm a better pilot than you are." She argued, her right hand closed possessively on the back of the pilot's chair. "And if anything goes wrong again, I want to be the one throwing the switches. You're strictly navi on this flight." "The pilot's consoles only have partial access to backup system controls, as you well know. This is not something we're going to vote on. I am the Warlock's pilot. If you won't navigate for me, then get off my ship. I can fly him on my own." She glared up at him. He leaned close as though to kiss her, "Do you really want to have this fight now? Right now?" He asked in his deadly soft voice. Her eyes said she did, but she remained silent and sank into the navi's chair. Bren took her acceptance for what it was worth and brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips both thanks and warning. He knew Esterhazy and his recording devices probably couldn't see them from the flight deck floor, but he had no desire to chance broadcasting garish pictures of himself kissing Sophia on all the newscreens. He stowed Sophia's cane within reach, closed the canopy, then lowered himself into the pilot's chair. Pleasant memories washed lightly over him without ever becoming a distraction him as he ran through the vanship's extensive pre-flight checklist. One thought came through as he checked lights and cocked his head to listen for the changing tenor of the engine as it infused Claudia to power the systems he brought online. Was he agreeing to all this just to fly the Warlock once again? He looked out through the canopy at the flight deck wall of the Silvana, and immediately knew that the answer was no. The Warlock was his past, and the Silvana was his future. He was only flying the Warlock for Sophia, which was to his mind a more acceptable reason. He could hear her behind him, doing the navi checks with an attention to detail that he respected. He turned back to his own work, confident in his partner. "Bren, wait!" Sophia said urgently from behind him, and he spun around in the Captain's chair, ready for anything. She gave him a guilty smile, "I forgot my diplomatic papers in your foot locker. Can you go get them?" He recognized the ploy for what it was, because he'd been waiting for it. She'd put the papers in his locker for safekeeping when she started sleeping in his cabin instead of the Warlock. That had been at least a week ago. It was entirely plausible that she might have forgotten her papers there, except that Sophia would have never forgotten something that important. It was entirely reasonable to expect that he would go up to his rooms and get them, which would get him out of the Warlock. He felt a surge of triumph and anger mixed together. Now that he knew what her first goal was, he could fight it. "There's no need. Miller can get them for you." She blinked once, all innocence. "She has a key? I thought that locker was safe, that there was only one key." "It is safe." There was a moment only a moment where she paused, then she nodded graciously. "The papers should be right on top." Bren tapped his comm and relayed the information to Miller before turning around again and resuming the pre-flight checks. Sophia went back to her checks without further conversation, perhaps angry or ashamed that her ploy had failed. Bren didn't care, as long as he was doing exactly what she didn't want him to do. It was the only way to find out what her real plan was. By the time all the checks were complete, Miller had returned with the papers and the run was clear. Bren ran his fingers lightly over the emergency switches, reminding himself how the systems had been rewired. Originally, vanship systems were wired in series from the engine in order of which system required the most power. No other consideration, such as passenger safety, had been used in the first ships to use Claudia technology. Buoyancy had been the first system drawing from the engine, then propulsion, life support, fire, electrical, comms and sensor systems in order. Years ago, Bren had rewired the Warlock to put life support first on the series, followed by fire and the rest of the systems in original order, based on the idea that it was useless to still be up in the air but already dead. After Sophia had slid the ship across the deck in her first approach to the Silvana, the two of them had decided to move comms up the series in front of buoyancy as well. It wasn't the best solution, but vanships had been designed before Claudia regulators were invented, so they had to work with what they had. "Bren? Bren!" Sophia's voice finally intruded on his thoughts. "What?" "You went quiet." "Just checking systems." "Don't get too comfortable in that chair. The Warlock isn't your ship anymore." Her voice was crisp. Bren smiled slightly, "I won't. We're ready, Miller." The last he said to the open comm channel to the Silvana. "Yes, sir. Ambassador Esterhazy is going to record the initial drop, then follow in his veloship. He says he'll be no more than ten minutes behind you." "Acknowledged." The next few minutes passed without talk as he damped down the ship's buoyancy system and nudged open the throttle on the engine. The Warlock slid smoothly backward and over the edge of the Silvana's flight deck, falling into space. He flicked his fingers over the controls, freeing up the buoyancy system and letting the ship right itself. It yawed slightly clockwise and he made another adjustment, ruefully noting that it had been quite a few years since he'd piloted anything as small as a vanship. There was silence from the navi's seat, and he was sharply reminded that the last time Sophia had been in free fall, it had ended far more roughly than a poorly corrected spin. "Are you alright?" He demanded, ignoring the fact that they were still broadcasting to the Silvana. Sophia answered promptly, "Absolutely. The ground is fifteen minutes straight down. We have forty-five minutes before our registered docking time." She sounded normal, but Bren signed off and shut down the comm link to the Silvana anyway. He sent the Warlock heading eastward at a leisurely pace, checked the danger zones one last time, then turned his chair to face Sophia. She was watching him warily. He showed her the jammer in his hand and flicked the switch. "Talk." He said. "Now?" She shot him an exasperated look, but her fingertips remained on her consoles. "You want to talk now? Will you please concentrate on flying the ship?" "It's running fine and the only other thing in the sky is the Silvana. Tell me what that little scene with your papers was about." "Pay attention to your readings, Bren. This isn't a game." "It is the way you play it." He retorted mildly, "You wanted me off the Warlock. You planned for it. Why?" She raised her chin and met his eyes squarely, "So that only one of us would die if Esterhazy attempted to crash the Warlock a second time. Will you turn around and watch where you're flying now?" Bren drew in a sharp breath through his nose and realized weeks too late that Sophia's first option would always be sacrifice. She wielded her own mortality like a hammer, and she always swung wide. He turned back to his own controls so he could distance himself a little from the woman behind him. The sky was pale blue around him, the drift gentle, but he didn't notice either one for long moments. He put the Warlock through some basic maneuvers before he finally spoke again. "This isn't the first time you've tried to get yourself killed while in my company. Is this some kind of twisted desire to die the same way your sister did?" There was a sharp laugh from behind him. "No." Her voice gentled, "I don't want to die at all, Bren. But if my death is inevitable and the more we investigate the circumstances of Carolina's crash, the more I think it is then I want everyone to know who did it. I don't want it explained away as another convenient accident." "You don't think we'll find any evidence at Lexington Dock Admin?" "No." He felt a flicker of annoyance rise up to overtake his calm, but he fought it by nudging the throttle open a little more. "So what are we doing up here? Waiting for something to happen?" "More or less." That was an oddly ambivalent remark from her. Bren checked the time and considered what Sophia had said. "More or less? You don't believe something will happen either, then." "I don't know." Her voice was clear, her tone candid. Bren knew if he turned around that her face would give away no more secrets than her words did. "What if we make it down to Lexington without incident?" "What if there's no evidence in the Dock Admin's files?" She countered. He tapped his fingers idly on the console in front of him, "I can live with that." He said finally. He glanced at the chron to make sure he hadn't left the jammer on for too long. They had a few minutes left. Part of a minute passed in silence before Sophia spoke again, scornful. "After all this, you wouldn't simply write me off as delusional if nothing were to happen? If no proof were to be found to support my wild accusations?" "As long as you can find some way to get that sycophant off my ship, no." Her laugh was brittle, "What if something does happen? If the Warlock malfunctions due to bad wiring or other accident? What if I've sabotaged my own ship to convince you to throw your lot in with me against my own brother? This could have been a plot from the moment I landed on the flight deck of the Silvana!" Bren smiled slightly at the memory, "I wouldn't call that landing." "Bren!" He knew that she was serious, but he also knew that she still didn't trust him. She didn't think he trusted her, either. He checked the chron and consoles again, as a way to help him find the words that would work. "It's all the same to me, now. No matter what happens, even if it's nothing at all. I'm on your side. We could die before we reach Lexington Dock. We could find no evidence at all and leave Esterhazy grounded and head back to the Silvana. We could go to Anatoray and accuse your brother of sororicide, dodge assassins and politicians. We could chase contracts, or put you on the throne. It doesn't matter. I'm still going to stand with you." Silence. "Are you listening?" "Yes." She said, though her tone of voice could have meant anything. He thought through what he had said, but could not think of anything else to add that would make her understand. She'd shown herself to be a sharply perceptive diplomat; if she couldn't make heads or tails of what was a cross between a declaration of love and an oath of fealty, then there was nothing more he could do. For a moment, he knew an urgent desire to know what was going through her head. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and watched the drift, waiting for a response. The jammer had been running for five minutes, and he was getting antsy about having no contact with the Silvana. He thought about taking the words back, but they'd been spoken, and they were the truth. But Sophia remained silent. "Bren?" "I'm listening." "I want to say ... Oh, a dozen different things." He could hear her sigh abruptly, "No, perhaps you are right. If you are willing to be a partner in all this my partner then no matter what happens, it will all be well. We are stronger together than I am alone." "Nothing is ever as complicated as you make it." Bren said mildly, through he was relieved. "Nor as simple as you hope." She retorted, but then her voice softened, "But you give me the same hope. And it goes both ways, I know. You're not only my lover, but everything else as well." Bren smiled slightly as he reached for the jammer to shut it off. "Also, I get to fly your ship." "The very same ship with which you must compete for my affections." She pointed out dryly, though he could tell just from the clarity of her voice that she had finally regained her inner balance. "You haven't seen a fraction of what I can do with this ship." He promised, then switched the jammer back off and opened up the comm channel to the Silvana once more. "Bren here. Report." Miller answered, as always, "Everything's running smoothly. Nothing to report. Ambassador Esterhazy stowed his gear and dropped off the deck four minutes ago. The skies are clear of ships, and we have contact with Dock Admin." "Acknowledged. Now lets see what the Warlock can really do." Bren released command of the Claudia mix controls to Sophia's consoles and prepared to dodge potentially imaginary attacks while seducing the ship's pilot with maneuvers he'd last done more than eight years ago. He couldn't have imagined anything better. Epilogue Sitting in the navi's chair was a little disorienting. Not just because she had always flown the Warlock from the pilot's chair, but also because the man who now sat there had just changed the way she looked at everything. From how she could look up and see the elegant movement of the drift overhead through the console, to how she saw herself. It was all different. She'd heard the sincerity in his soft voice. It meant that for the first time in her life, there was someone she didn't have to fight against, to hide secrets from. She had an ally, and much more than that. She smiled suddenly up through the canopy at the pale sky as it swooped and dove, a mirror image of the first significant tests that Bren put the Warlock through. She recognized the test series as a particularly daring one, and she turned her attention to the sensors that manipulated the Claudia mix, giving Bren the best power when and where he needed it. The comms channel beeped softly while they played games with buoyancy and gravity, pitch and roll, power and finesse. Bren flew the Warlock with a deft touch, and the ship responded to him with the same eagerness that Sophia knew she did. Though there had been a few minor problems with various systems, the days and days worth of repairs that she and Banks had feverishly completed on the ship had not been in vain. Infused Claudia ran clean from the engine to each of the ship's systems in turn, and the systems interacted according to their design, creating something that was both beautiful and powerful. Then the confirmation blips stopped. "Silvana. Open comms. Silvana. Miller. Report. Damn." Bren fell silent. In a way, Sophia was relieved. The worst had finally happened. "Now what?" She asked. "Watch the sensors. I'll try and revive the comms." His voice was still soft but there was an edge beneath it. He wasn't worried yet, but Sophia could hear the note of tension. "No other systems show any fluctuation in power drawn or output." She reported. "Nothing for comms. It's like the speaker just turned off." It couldn't be a power issue, since communications was wired before almost all the other systems on the ship. They would have lost the power of flight before losing the comms. "It could just be a malfunction." Sophia repeated, trying to stay objective. "I doubt it." Bren was still trying any fix he could think of, to judge from the sound of his hands running over the controls, "Especially not after he was so careful to ask about the setup of the ship." "You noticed that, too. Banks and I went over the ship when we repaired it, but we never found anything." Bren muttered a curse under his breath, then flicked a few switches, "I'm changing our broadcast to all channels and looping an emergency message." Sophia nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her. Even if they couldn't connect to any comm channel, hopefully someone could hear them. There was a long, tense silence where Sophia stared at her consoles and wondered if she really had condemned herself and her lover to death. She pressed her lips together hard, remembering the last few minutes. Bren had made her realize that they were closely entwined, and stronger for it. He thought that together they could survive anything. But now would come the crucible. "It little matters now, but I am sorry that you were pulled into this." "I'm not ready to die yet." He said, as calm as if he were still on his own ship. "If the same thing happened to Carolina, she would have kept flying, so I'm going to bring us down fast. Maybe whatever is affecting the comms will be thwarted by distance." Sophia agreed with his decision, "I have ballast shunts and propulsion prepared for whatever you need me to do." "You realize that if we land, our best chance is to abandon the Warlock, send it back up, and run." Her breath caught in her chest, but she nodded sharply after only a moment. "Yes." "At least if we both die, no one can accuse me of masterminding the deaths of two Anatorayen princesses." He offered, his soft voice threaded with amusement. "You underestimate newscreen programs." Sophia's quick counter made him chuckle. Though she was on edge, Bren kept her from panicking. She recognized what he was doing, and was grateful for it. "Now there's a scary thought." Bren admitted, "Ground sighted. Are you ready?" "For anything." Sophia said resolutely, and she meant it. "Ready for anything." *** Sophia looked up into a sky so blue it was blinding, and watched the Warlock rise straight up. It was a metaphor made visible; her past retreating from her so fast that she didn't dare blink. Not only was the Warlock a symbol of all the things she had worked for, but the ship itself had been sanctuary and companion for three years. The only person she trusted as much as her ship was waiting silently behind her. She didn't turn away from the sight of the Warlock. Not even when she could only track its flight path by extrapolation. "We don't have much time." Bren said quietly. "I know." She whispered, then the meaning of his words finally came to her and she shook her head sharply to break the trance. She tapped her fingers lightly on each pocket of the jumpsuit, mentally checking where everything was packed, then turned to face Bren. "Where to?" He pointed south, toward the jagged edge of the cliff. "That way. If we get low enough, we'll hear anyone coming before they see us, and we won't be visible to ships or searchers on foot." Sophia measured the distance with her eyes, and sighed softly. It was going to be a long walk, and though the ground was flat, she would be exhausted by the end, but she knew there was no other choice. She picked up her cane and began walking. For now, she didn't need it, but she would soon enough. "How long before he finds us?" She asked Bren when he came up beside her. He glanced up at the sky, then down at the chron on his wrist. "It depends. If either of us is harboring a tracking device or if he knows that we're grounded, he'll find us in minutes. If he takes the Warlock as bait, we have half an hour or more." He glanced down at her, "How far can you go? I can carry you, if you need me to." Sophia gave him a look of her own, one that encompassed the four heavy tote bags he had arrayed over both shoulders. "No you can't. I am perfectly capable of walking." She added quickly as he made a motion toward her, "Provided we keep this pace, I should reach the edge of the canyon under my own power. After that, I am afraid it will be up to you." Bren made a sound of acknowledgement and kept pace with her. She reached into the top left pocket on her jumpsuit and pulled out the hand recorder that she'd kept in the Warlock since she had first taken off from Oriskany dock. Bren recognized the device and gave her a questioning look. "If we only have minutes, I want my suspicions recorded. Just in case." She explained, smiling reluctantly as Bren gave her an irritated look. "If Esterhazy manages to kill us both, the recorder isn't going to make it to anyone else." He pointed out. Sophia nodded, "I know. But this is one more weapon in our thin arsenal. If all goes wrong, all we will have to avenge ourselves is circumstantial evidence against Philip or my brother." Bren made a short gesture of acquiescence with one hand, and Sophia moved the cane to her left hand and the recorder to her right before turning it on. "I am Sophia Elen Delgrada Forrester, Princess of Anatoray and all her provinces and peoples. I have reason to believe that myself and Captain John Bren of the neutral ship Silvana are in great danger. If this recording should be found and we are dead, let it be known that our deaths were under highly suspicious circumstances, and I believe that my brother, Sikandar II, may have orchestrated them." She took a deep breath, not just because the walk was tiring her quickly, but because she was about to speak out loud words that she had never said before, "I became interested in the circumstances surrounding the death of my sister, Carolina Theresa Delgrada Forrester, when I heard a rumor that her ship, the Warlock, had been put up for auction." For long minutes, she talked softly to the recorder, alternating her attention between the cliff-edge, the ground in front of her, and the sky above. Anything could trip her up, and she knew they had very little time for mistakes, though Bren still seemed calm. Eventually, she reached the end of her narrative, which was mostly composed of suppositions and fears, "Once I gained the trust of Captain John Bren, we chose to travel to Lexington Dock in the Warlock, for two purposes. One, to lure Ambassador Esterhazy into making an attack, so we could prove that we have been targeted for murder by whomever he answers to, most likely my brother. Two, to inquire of Dock Administration if my brother or anyone directly associated with him had any connection to the contract that Carolina died attempting to fulfill." She held the recorder away from her for a moment and tried to catch her breath. "Any sign?" She asked in an undertone. "None." Bren's quick answer was certain. Sophia relaxed a little to hear it. "But that doesn't mean anything. He could be throwing off suspicion by changing his route, or he could just be playing with us. Don't slow down." She sighed and raised the recorder once again, "The voice heard previous is that of Captain John Bren. We departed the Silvana in the Warlock some forty minutes ago with a destination of Lexington Dock, but our communications system went dead in the air. We have strong reason to believe it is being affected in some way by a device under the control of Ambassador Esterhazy, though we cannot find the mechanism. Since the communications system failed entirely, and no other system was affected, we can therefore assume outside forces caused the communications system to cease, though we do not yet have evidence of them." Sophia felt Bren's hand on the small of her back, urging her to move faster. She took several shallow breaths and continued, "We chose to land the Warlock and send him back up ... on autopilot with no set course in the ... hopes that he would act as a decoy. We are now ... grounded at the coordinates entered at the beginning of this ... message." "Give me that." Bren reached over and took the recorder from her hand. Sophia started to take the recorder back, but realized almost immediately that he wasn't stopping the recording, he was merely forcing her to save her breath for walking. She gave him a grateful smile, and he nodded once. "Captain John Bren speaking." He said quietly into the recorder, "We are now grounded and heading for shelter in a deep canyon in the Arras Range. Provided that Esterhazy doesn't actually know where we are right now, we're in good condition. We chose this canyon from the air, and it looks as though we can hide and defend ourselves. We've got several days of supplies and a few pieces of equipment that can be used as hand-to-hand weapons if need be. Our plan is to hide until morning, then I will find and bring back help. Once we're among other people, we should be safe. Esterhazy's been cautious in avoiding witnesses up to now, so I don't think he'll attack us once we're in public." Sophia envied Bren's ability to easily talk while he was walking, but she was reassured by his confidence. The cliff edge, however, still looked a long ways away. She searched the sky once more before bending her will to moving her body onward. She didn't even realize they had made it to the canyon until Bren caught her and lifted her up to make her stop walking. When he gently let her down again, she stood, head hanging, panting for breath, her leg on fire and her eyesight graying. Still, she looked up at the sky, searching once again for the glint of sunlight on a ship's body. She wasn't sure she would even recognize one if she saw it. "Not much further." Bren said, and he was back in front of her again. Sophia only had a moment to notice that he had dropped the tote bags somewhere before he swept her up and started to carefully pick his way down the cliff edge with her in his arms. Even exhausted, Sophia could laugh. *** "Ship." Bren said softly, and Sophia jerked awake. She had only been half-asleep, reclining against the steep canyon wall, but now adrenaline rushed through her body and she was painfully alert. "Time?" She asked in an equally low voice, though the ship couldn't possibly hear her. "No more than an hour." He was staring out at the sky, his green eyes narrowed, his entire body focused on the spark of light. "Can't tell what type of ship it is. It's coming toward us, though." "Not a good sign." Sophia said, and turned the recorder back on. It might soon be recording their last words. Bren ignored her, "It's a barge. Not unusual for these parts, but it's flying too low, and it's got a really erratic flight path. What in the world are they doing?" Sophia felt the jerk of Bren's body next to hers as he realized what he was seeing, "They're searching!" He tapped the comm on his collar, "Unknown Barge. Respond. I have an emergency. Respond." Nothing. "Unknown Barge. I have an emergency. Respond." Then, like the sweetest music Sophia had ever heard, "Unknown Contact, this is Pilot Naylor. Is that you, Captain Bren?" "As ever was." Bren said, triumph making his green eyes flash as he grinned at Sophia, "Track my comm signal and pick us up, then tell me what the hell is going on!" "Acknowledged, sir!" Sophia found the strength to climb back up the cliff, and when she saw the barge sitting in the sun at the top, she though the ship was every bit as beautiful as the Warlock. In moments, she was whisked inside, and they were up in the air again. She closed her eyes and let out a shuddering sigh of relief. She felt Bren's hand on her hair and looked up, but he was only reassuring himself that she was there. His attention was focused on Naylor. "Report." "Not me." The mechanic turned pilot put up his hands in mock defense, "In two minutes we'll be in range of the Silvana, so Miller can tell you everything. I only know that the Warlock went off-comm, then Miller started swearing and shouting out orders on all channels." Bren waited with obvious impatience in the seat beside Sophia until they were finally in range. "We suspected everything." Miller reported, "But you and Princess Sophia were so adamant that we not cause a diplomatic problem, so our hands were tied. Darska circumvented your orders and put a passive recorder sound and data on the Ambassador's ship, but until we catch up with him, we won't know what he did to cut the Warlock's comms. It wasn't until we lost contact with the Warlock that we realized he was going to make a move." Sophia's head jerked up at that, "You haven't caught him yet?" "We'll have him soon. Head Mechanic Banks is piloting a veloship sent to intercept him. You know which one, Captain? His pet project?" At Bren's soft chuckle, Miller continued, "Right. He has orders to claim that an emergency befell the Warlock and he's grounding Esterhazy and his ship just in case there are problems with the Ambassador's ship. As long as the recorder isn't found before Banks gets him off the ship, we should have solid evidence." "Put a priority on retrieving that device." Bren growled, "I want to know what he did to the Warlock, and I want it reversed as soon as the ship is on the flight deck." Sophia startled again, "The Warlock? Where is it?" "Still in flight." Miller reported, "We're trying to bring it in without damage, but the way these old vanships are wired, it's nearly impossible to gain access to anything without actually sitting in the cockpit." Sophia smiled slightly, though she knew Miller couldn't see it, "I know. Thank you, for trying." "We can always rebuild." Bren said, and he put a warm hand on the back of her neck. Sophia sighed and leaned back against the touch. He was right. The Warlock was no fragile beast; his heart was as durable as Bren's, even if his systems and consoles and shell would need extensive repair again. Neither ship nor man would fail her. Bren was still talking to Miller, and Sophia listened passively, wrung out by exertion both physical and psychological. "At this point, corroborating evidence from six years ago would just be an added bonus." Bren said on the channel, "Sophia now has an excuse to insist on guard detail, and if we stay on the ground, we're surrounded by neutral players. That means Esterhazy can't level accusations of influence against us." "Are you sure about staying grounded, sir?" Miller was doubtful, "I know it's best for the Princess, but you hate being grounded." "I'll find something to do." He slanted a look full of promises at Sophia, "Just keep the Silvana prepped for flight. I don't think we'll be staying long." "Yes, sir." Miller paused, "Ambassador Esterhazy's grounded and his ship is powered down. Banks has him on the veloship and is taking him to Lexington. He's already demanding to know what happened to Princess Sophia." "Keep him guessing." Bren ordered, "Get him into quarters somewhere in Dock Admin and out of the way before we land. I want him thinking he succeeded. Keep me informed." He tapped his comm to close the channel. "Now what?" Sophia asked, while they rested in their seats and waited for Naylor to tell them that the slow-moving barge had finally arrived at Lexington Dock. "We touch down and get some rest. Then we start an inquiry at Dock Admin, and wait for results from that and the passive recorder on Esterhazy's ship." "Is it going to be ... this easy?" She wondered. "If this is what you consider to be easy, don't tell me what hard is like." Bren stretched in his seat. "Get some rest, Sophia. Tomorrow is going to be a long day." *** It was quiet in the opulent suite that Sophia and Bren were sharing at Lexington Dock, but in a few minutes, she would open the door and welcome the newscreen reporters into her life so they could broadcast her secrets to every corner of the world. She wasn't looking forward to it, but it needed to be done. "Data transcripts from Esterhazy's veloship are clear and compelling." Bren said as he joined her at the vanity where she was putting the finishing touches on her extensive, heavy, hindering regalia, "And as you know, the contract that started this all, from the initial investigation earlier today, was false. Set up by another of Sik's cronies. We have evidence from Dock Admin. Esterhazy still isn't talking, though." Sophia took a deep breath, "I know." She said gently. Bren was only organizing the information for her, so that she could make sense of the flurry of reports that had come to them in the last day. He thought he was helping her to understand an awful truth; that her brother had arranged for her sister's death, then tried to order her own when she had begun to investigate the truth behind that fatal crash. It wasn't the shock that Bren was acting as though it might be. She'd had weeks to get used to the idea. Now, she couldn't feel horror or sorrow, only determination to bring the truth to light, now that she finally had the chance. "What will you do after this is over?" He asked her, his fingers touching the intricate braids and jewelry in her hair as though he wasn't sure where he could touch. His voice was neutral, but Sophia could feel the tension in his body, see the banked hunger in his eyes. He wasn't asking where they intended to have dinner that night. He was asking what she would choose to be; Princess and Queen, or pilot and lover. Her mood rose; she'd made her choice weeks ago. She turned and stood to face him with a smile that was pure temptation, "I plan to repair the Warlock. Perhaps this time around I can get better pilot's concessions from the Silvana's captain." Bren's eyebrows quirked upward, and there was an answering curve to his mouth, "I won't complain; you're a damn good mechanic. But when Sikandar is removed from the succession, you'll be next in line for the throne of Anatoray. You can't just ignore that." She shook her head slowly, undaunted. "I can, and I intend to. There are cousins that will do just as well as I could. This entire business has poisoned me against ruling. I am prepared to declare my abdication in this upcoming nightmare of an interview." Bren watched her for a long moment, as though he was waiting for her to back down, but she was certain. He nodded once, reaching out to tip her face up to meet his and brushing a promise of a kiss across her lips. "We'll negotiate concessions later." He said, his voice soft and gritty, and Sophia laughed at the blatant innuendo. Bren reached out to open the door, and she tilted her chin up, ready to speak to the newscreen reporters waiting outside. They expected her to make an official statement to put to rest all the rumors that had been flying around Lexington Dock. Instead, she was about to expose the secrets and machinations of the Anatorayen royal family to the world. Once the story was on every newscreen, there would be nowhere left for Sik to hide. After several years of being safe behind diplomacy and manipulation, he would finally be brought to trial for what he had done to Carolina, to Sophia, and to Bren. As Sophia passed through the open door, Bren leaned close and murmured provocatively, "After this is all over, I might even let you see my first-gen veloship." Sophia whirled to interrogate him, but he only laughed at her with his eyes and ushered her out to meet the newscreen reporters. |