Read Online Shades of Dark by Linnea Sinclair - Free Book Online Page B

straightened. “We’re going to have to push for Narfial now. If Tage releases that information about me, I don’t know if I’ll even be able to make dock there, let alone get this Del to talk.” Del was the name of our contact on Narfial. That was all we knew about him: a name. “We have to get there before Tage makes any kind of move.”
    “Specs-plus-twenty?” Specs-plus-ten—the way Sully could push a ship to outperform even its design by 10 percent—was damned near Sully’s middle name. But I didn’t know if even the Karn could handle plus-twenty.
    His mouth twisted, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “If I have to. But there are some gates out here at the C-D. Old smugglers’ routes. That might be better.”
    I wasn’t sure. I’d heard the rumors: quick and deadly. The jumpgates traded safety for speed.
    “All the more reason I’ll want you in the pilot’s chair and not Gregor when we use them,” Sully said when I voiced my objection. A brief flare of warmth, a sensation of confidence floated through me.
    I appreciated Sully’s support, but it didn’t negate Gregor as a potential problem. “He’ll try to alert Nalby when we change course. And he’ll be expecting a response or new orders from them.” Which he wouldn’t get because we’d blocked his transmits. “Unless we wait until he’s asleep. He’ll be off shift in an hour.” Then he’d probably take a meal, spend some time in the gym. Or playing cards with Aubry in Dorsie’s galley. “Where will we be in four, five hours?”
    Sully was already heading back to his desk. “Too far from the gate I want to use,” he said after a few moments of leaning over his deskcomp and tapping at it. Then he ran one hand through his short-cropped dark hair. “Okay,” he said, his tone suddenly grim. “I need him out of the picture.”
    Something chilled in me at his words. I was Fleet, military. It wasn’t something I liked, but when it was necessary I’d taken lives in the line of duty. But knowing how Sully would do it—a zragkor, ripping Gregor’s mind apart—made my breath freeze in my lungs. Yes, Gregor had sold us out to the Farosians. But to cold-bloodedly murder him…Part of me still believed in a fair trial, even if I’d not been granted one.
    “I’m not a murderer, Chasidah.” Sully’s voice was flat. “I’m just going to give him a bad case of stomach cramps. Or at least, make him think that’s what he has.”
    Shame flooded me for jumping to conclusions. And for not realizing that he was linked to my thoughts. “Sully, I’m sorry.”
    “So am I.” He turned quickly from me, emotions simmering around him, tainting the link between us with anger and pain. He slapped at the doorway palm-pad with more force than necessary and vanished into the corridor.
     
    “Five minutes to hard edge, Captain Chasidah,” Verno said, working helm and sharing navigation with me.
    “Five minutes,” I echoed, watching ship’s data on the pilot’s armrest console. Sully was at communications, muddying our signal in case the Farosians were interested, and monitoring long-and short-range scanners. Marsh worked engineering. Aubry and Ren were off duty. Gregor, last I heard, was passed out cold in his bunk after puking his guts out for almost an hour.
    Dorsie had given him tea with a small dose of honeylace to make him feel better. At Sully’s suggestion, of course. We’d be a bit more than a shipday in jump. Gregor might be waking up just as we exited. If we exited.
    I didn’t like the look of this gate or the jumpspace it configured at all. It looked slippery—a term I’d heard helms officers and navigators use since I was small, denoting the fact that the gate beacon’s signals were diffuse and inconsistent. They “slipped” off the narrow, safe path ships needed to traverse the neverwhen. I’d programmed in two additional gate fixes—both Imperial—as emergency relocators. But there was no guarantee when we were in jumpspace