Sinclair, Linnea - An Accidental Goddess

Title: An Accidental Goddess
Author: Linnea Sinclair
Series:
Pub: Bantam Spectra [reissue]
Pub Date: December 2005
ISBN: 0553587994
Genre:
Time Period:
Setting:
Hero: Admiral Rynan "Mack" Makarian
Heroine: Captain Gillaine "Gillie" Davre

Summary:

A deep space explosion in Riftspace sends Captain Gillaine Davré and her sentient crystalship, Simon, three hundred and fifty years into the future, where her likeness graces every shrine, and her accident has been recorded in history as a "divine sacrifice."

Anonymity and lies seem her only options. How can she risk harming the Khalaran culture with the truth about her pub-crawling ways? They think she's a goddess, and she has no intention of destroying those beliefs.

Admiral Rynan "Mack" Makarian is a follower of the Lady Kiasidira. He believes that the Lady sacrificed herself in order to save his people. He also believes that the mysterious freighter captain who's turned up on his station is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

But is she hiding a secret? Suddenly, a long-time enemy attacks, again. Can Gillie help Mack stop the invasion without revealing her identity, and losing the man she loves?

Excerpt:

     It wasn’t the first time Gillie had hazily regained consciousness flat on her back in sickbay, feeling stiff and out of sorts. And unable to account for a missing two or three hours. Pub-crawling did have its side-effects.
     But it was the first time she’d been unable to account for a missing two or three hundred years. Not even a week of pub-crawling could explain that.
     Three hundred forty two years, sixteen hours, Simon’s voice stated clearly in her mind. If you want to be absolutely accurate.
     She didn’t. Her math skills had never been her strong point. And three hundred years was a close enough estimate to cause her stomach to do flip-flops in a way a bottle of Devil’s Breath never had.
     The possibility that she’d died flitted across her mind, though logically death wouldn’t have thrown her inexplicably into the future. Even so, she thought it prudent to pull her Essence out of her physical Self and make a cursory examination of her own body on the diag-table. By all appearances, she was still short, blonde and very much alive. The readout on the medi-stat confirmed the last part of her hastily conducted diagnosis. It detailed a few bumps and bruises as well as notations on a mild concussion, no doubt the source of her blistering headache.
     A headache that wasn’t the least bit helped by whatever heathen concoction was being pumped into her system through the round med broche clamped to her wrist. Med broches! Raheiran technology rarely used such invasive things. She longed to alter its feed rate but knew her mental tinkering would likely set off some alarm. She’d almost tripped a few when she’d awakened ten minutes ago, groggy and achy, then tried to spike into this sickbay’s systems.
     Impatience invariably leads to sloppy work, Simon had chastised.
     Sloppy work, a bitch of a headache and a reality that suddenly did not make sense.
     How in the Seven Hells had she ended up three hundred years from her last conscious moment, flat on her back in some unknown space station’s sickbay? With Simon in a similar state of disarray a few decks below.
     The Fav’lhir.
     Ah, yes. Small matter of a large warship intent on her destruction. Obviously, the Fav hadn’t succeeded. Though something had happened.
     They’re vicious and powerful, Simon, but they don’t have time travel capabilities. Neither do we. Someone or something else pulled us here. Wherever ‘here’ was. That much she ought to find out.

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Comments:

Previously written under Megan Sybil Baker.