Ghost of a Chance - Mark Garland [36]
Composed mostly of smooth, curved sections, the ship glowed brightly in the night like Earth's own moon. It featured several towering assemblies of tubes not unlike those that made up much of the machine in the cave. She saw the ship passing star systems, countless numbers of them, traveling on for what must have been ages.
Then the ghost that had appeared to her in her ready room was there again, drifting nearly formless in the dark as the alien vessel and its universe faded from view. The ghost called to her as it had before, communicating without words, telling her to come, telling her of its pain, and pleading with her... for help.
CHAPTER 7
Gantel paced the floor in front of the lavish, thickly upholstered chair that dominated the center of the cruiser's bridge. The chew stem he held between his teeth had turned ragged and lost all its flavor, and the subtle effects of its mildly euphoric chemical contents had long since worn off. He had another stem in his pocket, but he wanted to keep his edge just now, much as it pained him to admit it.
"Sit," his second associate, Triness, told him, making the request sound as much like a demand as possible. "You always think of something." She was the only one on the ship who would dare speak to Gantel in such a tone, at least where nonbusiness issues were concerned; he was constantly challenged during general commerce sessions, but that was only to be expected.
Here he outranked everybody, and he seldom let anyone forget it.
"I will sit when I can do so with a favorable review in my hands," he said, pausing long enough to rake his long fingers through his great mane of thick white hair. "I will sit when my apparently overrated acquisitions director has something positive to tell me, instead of zero gain after zero gain."
"Daket deserves his rating, and you know it," Triness said, though she was apparently only defending the first associate on general grounds.
"You want everything to go perfectly, of course, but even you cannot bend the universe to your will. And neither can Daket. He has been faced with many--" "Unforeseen difficulties. I know."
"An associate in his position, I think, requires a certain--" "Triness!" Gantel interrupted sharply, failing in his attempt to keep his voice level. "We are faced with an impending visit by First Director Shaale herself. I can grant Daket all the dispensations in the universe, but Shaale will require a great deal of me. I know the acquisitions team has... legitimate excuses, but Shaale never puts those two words together. In the meantime I have to make deals and apparently concessions with these Federation people, none of which makes good sense so far--unless we get results. But for the time being, I am dancing slow and dancing fast at the same time."
"I'd forgotten what a good dancer you are." Triness smiled curtly.
"How long has it been since we danced? The last time was on Grelra Seven, I think, just after the revolt."
"Which revolt?"
It was a joke. Triness chuckled. "Why would anyone keep track?"
"I don't know," Gantel said, chuckling with her just a bit.
"You have been regional leader seven times, my dear," Triness cooed, playing the part of a doting mate, something she had never actually been. They were not lovers, though neither of them had yet ruled out that possibility.
Gantel eyed her warily. "What of it?"
"That buys a lot of dispensation."
"Ah, all true," Gantel said, preening. "Quite true."
"Even Shaale must take that into consideration."
Gantel sighed. "In a perfect universe. You won't mind if I worry just a little, all the same?"
"If you did not, you would not be a third director."
They both smiled. After sixteen missions together, they were becoming quite a team. He took as much comfort as he could from the thought, then turned again to the business at hand. "It's just so complicated.
The assignment gets more demanding and less manageable