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also carried part of his name in her own: Gillaine Ciran Rothalla Davr.
That s his magename. What did she call him?
She?
Lady Khamsin.
She called him . . . Her mind ran over the legend, remembered the Sorcerer
had often used a more common name for himself. When she found the answer, she
stumbled over the name. Rylan. She d almost said Rynan.
Interesting, don t you think?
It s similar. Not the same. She turned from the console, leaned over her
navigation array. Refused to let her mind play with the coincidence. It
frightened her, and intrigued her at the same time.
Speaking of names, I have a few more. The ones you asked me to find.
She straightened, glad the conversation was back to business. The guest
list. Who s invited to our humble abode?
Some people who could well push us into the high-rent district. The admirals
of the First, Third, and Fourth Fleets will be here for the official
inspection. As will three of the Rim Gate Project s top scientists. All will
stay, of course, for the dedication the following day. That s when they
arrive.
They?
Prime Hostess Honora Syrella Trelmont and her daughter, Roannan Charity. The
wife and daughter of the Chancellor of the Confederation.
Gods. In a less than three weeks, Cirrus would contain three of the
highest-ranking officers in the Khalaran Fleet four, counting Mack along with
key personnel from the project. And the prime hostess, the wife of the
political head of the Confederation.
And a huge gap in station security that the Fav lhir could fly a crystalship
right into. To kill, if that was their intention.
Or to take hostages. And gain control of the Khalar in this, the final
battle. And there was no way Gillie could stop them.
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15
Mack was extremely pleased to see the supply ship arrive. He was extremely
pleased that all his requisitioned items were neatly listed on the manifest.
And he was also extremely pleased that clearance of the vessel took under two
hours.
A record, especially for Cirrus.
And a break, for him. Dinner with Gillie would be late, but not abysmally so.
There might even be time for dessert.
He stepped into the lift, sucked in a sharp breath. Held his stomach in as
well. He d been too busy the past few months to spend much time in the gym.
Would she notice? He d always considered himself in decent, if not better than
decent, shape.
Unless, of course, he compared himself to Fitch Tobias.
But Gillie was having dinner with him, not Tobias. That is, providing she was
still speaking to him after his reaction to her little stunt in the temple.
His heart stuttered when he pictured her dust-streaked face peering up at him
from under the bench.
She d taken considerable risks because of what she believed in. And because
she believed in him.
The woman was . . . incredible. There was no other word for it. He hoped he
was worthy of incredible tonight.
Incredible waited for him at the bottom of her ramp, in a short tan-colored
skirt that looked like butter on silk. On top of that, incredible wore a
clingy, long-sleeved top that whispered across her when she moved.
Hi, he said, when he found his voice. He knew he stared at her. He didn t
care.
Hi, yourself.
My place?
Unless you want to have dinner on my stairs.
He folded her hand in his, couldn t stop smiling. But at least he didn t bump
into the door frame on the way out again.
His small apartment on Upper5 held the wonderful aroma of a sweetly spicy
stew he d ordered from Maguire s earlier. He retrieved the bottle of wine from
the refrigerator and watched Gillie turn in a slow circle in the middle of his
living room.
It looks like you. She accepted the glass of golden wine with a smile.
Really? He knew she meant his apartment, but beyond that didn t know quite
what she meant. He didn t think she referred to the layout. His home since
coming to Cirrus One was identical to many other residential apartments on the
station s upper levels, with a long living-room dining-room combination
flanked on one side by an open galley kitchen, he corrected himself. And on
the other, a door that led to a decent-size bedroom. It was larger than his
quarters on theVedri, but smaller, he knew, than executive apartments on newer
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stations.
The carpet in his living-room area and bedroom was a medium gray flecked with
blue, a sturdy, industrial grade. The dining room, kitchen, and two small
sanifacs had white soft-tile on the floor.
His walls were a paler gray than Cirrus s corridor bulkheading. On them he d
hung his holos from the academy and all his postings, including theVedri, in
no special order. The four-tiered built-in bookshelf to the left of the
kitchen held a few real bound books; those were special. So were the few other
items secured to the metal shelves, including a plastiglass globe of
Traakhalus Prime his grandfather had given him when he d graduated from the
academy. And one beer can, never opened, on a velvet cushion.
She touched it, questioningly.
Long story. He took a sip of his wine first. Ever hear of Captain Ward
Dylannin? When she shook her head, he shrugged. No reason you should have.
That was six, seven years ago. He knew exactly how long it was, but didn t
like to remember that either. Ward and I went through the academy together.
Took our first postings on the same ship, theRichenza . From there, went to
theLoyal . I guess you could say he was my best friend.
He saw by the softening in her eyes she d caught his use of the past tense
and knew where this story was going. He continued anyway. We both made
captain within four months of each other. I got theVedritor . Ward got
theNevritan . Sister ships. Both Tarkiran-class hunterships. Right off the
designer s deskscreens. And with some unexpected flaws in the power grids.
TheNevri was engaged in a war-games maneuver when her power grid collapsed.
Ward was trapped in engineering with his chief and two junior crew. He got the
juniors out and the situation went critical. Someone had to stay in
engineering or the jumpdrives would blow. And take the ship, and her two
hundred nineteen officers and crew, with them. Ward was the one who stayed,
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