"What?"
He gave her a ghost of a grin. "Nothing.
"Chrysla?"
He gave her a hollow look that wrenched. "Chrysla's dead."
"You don't know that."
He chuckled hoarsely. "I think I do. The source was rather explicit." His brow knitted. "You know, I've mourned her for so long it doesn't even bother me now. I
should be torn in two. but inside is only emptiness where she used to
be."
Skyla's heart skipped and she said gently, "Twenty years is a long time. What about your son?"
He glanced at her, the old steel in his eyes. "I'm going to find him. One way or another, I swear I'll do it."
"We'll find him." She wished she could mean that. After so many years and all of Staffa's resources, where else could they look?
Staffa's expression hardened. "You'll have to take responsibility for the Companions. Can you do it?"
Good. At least you know you're not one hundred percent. That makes things easier. "Of course. We've got some of the best psychological talent in Free Space here. They'll figure out what the Praetor's game was. I can handle the rest. If things get too busy, I'll delegate some tasks to Tasha." And I'll put that on record in case I have to haul you down to psych bound and gagged.
A grim smile curled his lips. "Good. I knew I could count on you."
"Always, Staffa." In more ways than you could know, and I'm going to find out what the Praetor did to you if I have to move stars and worlds to do it.
The room looked fuzzy when Sinklar first opened his eyes. He blinked to clear his vision and found himself in a medical rehab unit. Parts of his body prickled as if electricity were running through them. Most of his view of the rom was blocked by the white bulk of the machine, but he could see sickly green paint overhead. The soft murmur of voices and the periodic clicking of metal on tin trays could be heard in his good ear. A wad of cotton might have been stuffed in the other.
"About time," a familiar voice said from the side. "They said you'd be coming to about now."
"Gretta?" He turned his head and there she was, standing beside the unit, a relieved smile on her face. If anything, she looked better than he remembered. Her hair had been washed until it gleamed in the light, accenting the crystal blue of her eyes. Her skin had a healthy glow and the form-
fitting uniform did nothing to hide the seductive curves of her athletic body.
"The same. I just came by to see how you were doing. Mac's over at Division headquarters or he'd be here, too."
Sink swallowed and tried to ignore the funny feeling in his body. So many parts were numb. Nothing responded when he tried to move. Anesthetized? Or. He nerved himself and asked, "What about… I mean, am I all right? Is everything…"
She grinned, a twinkle in her blue eyes. "You're going to be fine. Everything's still attached to your body — and functional." Her manner grew serious. "And I want you to know that you and I still have a date coming."
"What about you and Mac?"
She reached up with a slim hand and pulled her long hair back. "Mac and I — we're friends Sink. I imagine we always will be. We've been through a lot." She reached down to stroke Sinklar's forehead. "Want me to be honest?"
Sinklar gave her a suspicious glance. "Well, I suppose so. I don't know. What are you talking about?"
To his immense pleasure, she continued to stroke his forehead. Her fingers felt delightfully cool. "Sink, my father is what you'd call a lower level bureaucrat on Ashtan. Until the day he dies, he'll continue to try and work his way up the ladder to be a middle level bureaucrat." She frowned. "I guess you'd say he lacks that spark, that innovative ability to seize opportunity and use it. Mac's like that. He's hard working, bright, but he'll always be the perfect lieutenant." She studied him through cool blue eyes. "I want more."
Sink wished he could squirm; unfortunately, the machine not only immobilized his body, but it pinned him in place like a biological specimen. "Why me? You're a beautiful woman. You could have anyone you wanted."
She snorted and shook her head. "Maybe I could. Did it ever occur to you that a woman might want to build a partnership with a man? I like you. You make me think. When I look into your eyes, I see a depth I don't see in many men's eyes. I think you're kind, and strong, and terribly attractive as a result. You can give me what I want out of life — and I think I can give you a lot in return. At least, I'd like the chance to find out if that's the case."
Sinklar squinted uneasily. "You make it sound terribly cold and calculating, like you were buying property or something."
Her grin brought dimples to her cheeks. "Given the way your mind works, what's a girl to do? I checked my arsenal of options and immediately discarded batting my eyes, wiggling my hips, or playing hard to get, and after what we went through, the delicate and frail female in need of protection would have come across a little silly, don't you think?"
The memory of Gretta coolly firing down a stairwell came to mind. He could recall the grim determination on her smudged face as she picked off assailants with practiced ease.
Gretta crossed her arms, leaned on the rehab unit, and studied him. "Besides, it's not like I'm making a proposal. We've got a lot stacked against us… like Targa, for one. We've got to stay alive. Second, I might not like you once I get to know you. And third, who's Anatolia?"
Sink jerked. "Huh? How could you know about her?"
Gretta lifted an eyebrow. "You talk in your sleep."
Sink felt himself blushing. "I only met her once. She's a behavioral geneticist on Rega."
"And you gave her a sample of genetic material, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"I thought you were a virgin."
"Not that kind of sample!"
"You in love with her?"
"NO!" Or was he? And if so, in love with what? A dream image?
Gretta grinned and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. "I've got to beat feet back to the barracks. I'll tell Mac you're doing fine. I checked with the staff here. They say you'll be out in another week or so." She grinned and added, "See you then. partner."
With a flip of her long brown hair, she disappeared around the curve of the white rehab unit.
"That true?" A gruff male voice asked.
"Huh?" Sink looked over at the burly man in the unit beside his.
"You really a virgin?"
Staffa slipped into the command chair of the single-seat CV courier vessel and looked up at the screen that dominated the overhead panels. Green lights glowed on each of the systems. The stat boards showed the vessel ready for spacing. Staffa powered up the reactors.
The CV consisted of nothing more than a cockpit with a small cargo bay, toilet, bunk, and canteen with a fold-out table to dispense food. The command nacelle perched at the tip of a 0.5 kilometer long tube forward of the drives. Behind the lean streamlined body, two fusion reactors rested beneath hydrogen fuel pods on either side of a large null-singularity generator. The CV had atmospheric capabilities and only the barest minimum of defensive shielding— adequate for fending off space debris and long-range intership fire.
He accessed the cargo monitor out of wary habit. The muffled shape of a big man lay tightly bound under wraps of Vermilion export canvas. Bound as he was, the captive would need an energy knife to cut his way free. Heavy straps secured the bundle against the bulkhead. Staffa's practiced eye had measured the dosage perfectly. He had taken no chances in ensuring his "passenger" wouldn't awaken until long after Staffa slipped away into the anonymous crowds portside. By the time anyone tied the Lord Commander to the hijacking of the CV, Staffa would be well on his way from Etaria to Targa — and the search for his son.
He hesitated to enter the initiation sequence as he looked up at the docking lights. That eerie sensation of premonition rilled him. He could imagine Skyla's initial panic when she realized he'd disappeared. Then she'd find the message he'd left on time delay. And, yes, she'd curse him up one side and down the other. Ah, how those azure eyes would bum — and the Rotted Gods help anyone who crossed her in that mood. A curious warmth filled Staffa's breast. She looked more beautiful when she was mad.