Read Online Gabriel's Ghost by Megan Sybil Baker - Free Book Online
Authors: Megan Sybil Baker
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saw his fists clench. Moabar Station suddenly felt very small. Seven. I noticed Ren’s cane now tucked through his sash, as if it were no longer needed.
“Authorities believe a ship, with the escapees, is due in at seventeen-hundred, station time. Manned by supporters of Sheldon Blaine and possibly with Blaine himself on board.”
That was four hours from now. I wasn’t Blaine—I had no royal blood in my family—and I was already here. That was no guarantee they wouldn’t look at all ships making station within a much larger time window, triple check all IDs. Especially if they were watching for Farosians; a small but pervasive band of terrorists based on Tos Faros, who upheld Blaine’s claim to the throne.
We passed Berth Five. “There will be much security activity until they determine whether or
not Captain Milo warned the other ship in time to abort the escape.” Or whether it had come in earlier than anticipated. The Temple was two levels up. We stepped into the lift with an M.O.C. officer on my right,
two Takas behind us.
“Praise the stars. Blessings of the hour.” I tried not to listen as my voice shook. Fear and anger, again. Just like the shuttle trip dirtside. Fear at being discovered, interrogated, tortured. Being sent back to Moabar was the least of my worries.
Anger. To come so close. To be stopped, not just in my attempt at freedom. But to be stopped from unmasking the gen-labs, the jukors. Somewhere during that trip on the Lucky Seven my reasons to leave Moabar had shifted. The picture had become larger, encompassing more than just Chasidah Bergren’s personal survival. It brought in Drogue’s and Ren’s and Sully’s as well.
Sullivan. I had no idea what the Empire would do when they found out he was still alive. No, I knew what they’d do. And that’s what really frightened me. There wouldn’t be enough left of him to ship down to Moabar. He should’ve listened to his advisors.
Chapter Five
The doors to the Temple of Abbot Eng the Merciful, Moabar Guardianship, looked like all other commercial establishment doors on station. Auto double-wides in green, the color designating this level. They were flanked on the left by a wide window. But these doors were stenciled with the arch-and-stave. Through the large window, rows of benches facing a long raised platform were visible. The wall behind it was backlit. An outline of the Englarian symbol filled most of it. No one sat on the benches at this hour but as we walked by, I caught a glimpse of a robed figure moving past the platform.
Entrance to Temple offices was through a single green auto-door a few feet farther down the corridor. It slid open as Ren approached. That meant Temple doors weren’t locked. Locked right now would be preferable. It wouldn’t stop the M.O.C. or the stripers. But it might slow them down.
We entered a short gray walled corridor with bright overheads and three doors. The one to my left I assumed went into the rear of the Temple. Then there was one directly ahead, and the last just to the right of that.
I thought we were going to the one straight ahead but Ren stopped and held out one hand in Sully’s direction, halting him. Perhaps they were having second thoughts about coming here?
“My quarters, for now,” Ren said. “I’ll wait in the office, in case anyone else comes in.”
Anyone else, I knew, meant stripers. Ren’s presence here was official. Ours wasn’t.
I followed Sully through the doorway on the right. Another hallway, longer, with five doors this time. Three left, two right. The first on the left was open. I glimpsed a round table and a commissary panel. Ren’s quarters were the last door on the right.
I let out the breath I was holding when the doors cycled behind me. “How much did Milo know?” I was in damage control mode now. Don’t accept that you’re boxed in. Gather the facts. Look for loopholes, options. There had to be options.
Sully pulled back his hood, ran his hand
“Authorities believe a ship, with the escapees, is due in at seventeen-hundred, station time. Manned by supporters of Sheldon Blaine and possibly with Blaine himself on board.”
That was four hours from now. I wasn’t Blaine—I had no royal blood in my family—and I was already here. That was no guarantee they wouldn’t look at all ships making station within a much larger time window, triple check all IDs. Especially if they were watching for Farosians; a small but pervasive band of terrorists based on Tos Faros, who upheld Blaine’s claim to the throne.
We passed Berth Five. “There will be much security activity until they determine whether or
not Captain Milo warned the other ship in time to abort the escape.” Or whether it had come in earlier than anticipated. The Temple was two levels up. We stepped into the lift with an M.O.C. officer on my right,
two Takas behind us.
“Praise the stars. Blessings of the hour.” I tried not to listen as my voice shook. Fear and anger, again. Just like the shuttle trip dirtside. Fear at being discovered, interrogated, tortured. Being sent back to Moabar was the least of my worries.
Anger. To come so close. To be stopped, not just in my attempt at freedom. But to be stopped from unmasking the gen-labs, the jukors. Somewhere during that trip on the Lucky Seven my reasons to leave Moabar had shifted. The picture had become larger, encompassing more than just Chasidah Bergren’s personal survival. It brought in Drogue’s and Ren’s and Sully’s as well.
Sullivan. I had no idea what the Empire would do when they found out he was still alive. No, I knew what they’d do. And that’s what really frightened me. There wouldn’t be enough left of him to ship down to Moabar. He should’ve listened to his advisors.
Chapter Five
The doors to the Temple of Abbot Eng the Merciful, Moabar Guardianship, looked like all other commercial establishment doors on station. Auto double-wides in green, the color designating this level. They were flanked on the left by a wide window. But these doors were stenciled with the arch-and-stave. Through the large window, rows of benches facing a long raised platform were visible. The wall behind it was backlit. An outline of the Englarian symbol filled most of it. No one sat on the benches at this hour but as we walked by, I caught a glimpse of a robed figure moving past the platform.
Entrance to Temple offices was through a single green auto-door a few feet farther down the corridor. It slid open as Ren approached. That meant Temple doors weren’t locked. Locked right now would be preferable. It wouldn’t stop the M.O.C. or the stripers. But it might slow them down.
We entered a short gray walled corridor with bright overheads and three doors. The one to my left I assumed went into the rear of the Temple. Then there was one directly ahead, and the last just to the right of that.
I thought we were going to the one straight ahead but Ren stopped and held out one hand in Sully’s direction, halting him. Perhaps they were having second thoughts about coming here?
“My quarters, for now,” Ren said. “I’ll wait in the office, in case anyone else comes in.”
Anyone else, I knew, meant stripers. Ren’s presence here was official. Ours wasn’t.
I followed Sully through the doorway on the right. Another hallway, longer, with five doors this time. Three left, two right. The first on the left was open. I glimpsed a round table and a commissary panel. Ren’s quarters were the last door on the right.
I let out the breath I was holding when the doors cycled behind me. “How much did Milo know?” I was in damage control mode now. Don’t accept that you’re boxed in. Gather the facts. Look for loopholes, options. There had to be options.
Sully pulled back his hood, ran his hand
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