by Jaleta Clegg
It was an explanation Clark had no trouble accepting. "How do I contact Brannigan?"
"Colonel Brannigan, security detail on the station. She'll be expecting you."
"Thanks," Clark said and found he meant it.
"You'd better hurry." The officer held out his blaster. "You'd better take this. It will make my story more believable."
Clark took the gun.
"Good luck," the officer called after him as he hurried away.
Chapter 22
The heat was just as intense as ever. Seasons didn't vary much on Fedrithus. The air was just as dead. The waves of endless sand stretching to the horizon were the same. The smell of old dust was the same in the barracks. Paltronis stood at her window, breathing the smell of the planet.
It was midafternoon. The medic, Sikura Tamitho, had finally convinced the base commander not to drill the troops in the heat. Too many of them ended up in the infirmary. Instead, Commander Fenniwik declared a mandatory rest period for all of them. Days of drilling in the early morning and late evening had produced nothing like Fenniwik imagined. The base personnel could stand in a straight line now, but marching was beyond them.
Sweat crawled down her neck. Paltronis loosened the collar of her uniform, unfastening it halfway down the front. She had to get off this world and soon.
There was a knock at her door. She turned away from the window.
"Come," she called.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Sikura walked into her room. He looked as cool as ever. He glanced around.
"Cozy," he commented. "Makes me really glad I rate a room next to the infirmary. At least the air conditioning works in there."
"At least it's private here," Paltronis answered. As far as she knew, she was the only person at this end of the floor.
"Privacy can be overrated," Sikura said. He pointed at the vent overhead.
She nodded. She already knew about the bug planted there. She'd found it her first night. It was better to leave it in place. Those listening thought she didn't know about it.
"Speaking of the infirmary," Sikura said, changing the subject, "you're past due for a physical. Commander Fenniwik wants everyone on base checked every two months. You never reported for your first exam."
"I was busy."
"And now you aren't. I've got the next hour free." He was trying to tell her something. He nodded at the vent again.
"Commander's orders, I'd better go." She shoved her window shut and fastened her uniform.
"This way, sergeant," Sikura said.
"I do know my way to the infirmary."
"Just making sure that this time you actually arrive." He smiled politely. It was strained. There were stress lines around his eyes.
He led the way down the hall, towards the stairs. She walked next to him, wondering what message he wanted to give her that he didn't feel safe telling her in her room. Who cared what she said? This was a dead end. She was only trying out of habit.
"A message came for you this morning," he said very quietly once they reached the stairs. "I intercepted it before anyone else could read it."
She frowned. "What message?"
"That's what I hope you can tell me. It was for Lowell, but sent to you. I didn't think you'd want anyone else to make that connection."
"Like I made it clear before, I don't work for him anymore."
"And I'm the Emperor's mother," Sikura answered.
"Is this why you are dragging me to the infirmary?"
"Partly. You are about to be put on report for not submitting to a physical exam. Fenniwik insists on it."
They exited the stairs and crossed the brief stretch of plascrete between the barracks and the main building. The air inside was much cooler. Sikura breathed a sigh of relief.
"I hate the heat," he said.
Paltronis just shrugged. Even if it bothered her, she wouldn't admit it.
"Have you seen the latest vid?" Sikura asked her conversationally as they passed a group of people. "This way, sergeant," he added as he opened the door to the infirmary.
"And why would you care if I have?" she asked him.
"It's my duty to see that you are fit, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Recreation is necessary to a balanced personality," Sikura said primly.
His assistant, an older woman, watched him suspiciously. She was counting out supplies, lining them up on the countertop as she worked.
"I hurt people for recreation," Paltronis said.
"Which is why you need to come in for an evaluation. Right in there," Sikura said, pointing at one of the tiny exam rooms.
Paltronis went into the room. She heard him dismiss his assistant, claiming she was needed in the kitchen to perform cleanliness tests on the equipment.
Sikura waited until the door slid shut behind the assistant before he joined Paltronis. "She's convinced I'm having an affair with you, or at least trying," he confided as he keyed the privacy screen for the exam room.
Paltronis rolled her eyes. She had no patience for politics. She played when she had to, but so far she saw little reason to play here.
Sikura took a clipboard from the wall. "As far as any records will show, this is just a routine exam." He put the clipboard down next to her and flipped switches on the equipment on the wall behind her. "And now the recordings will show enough interference no one will know what really happened here. I've been complaining about that equipment for months."
"And you probably removed the shielding yourself," Paltronis said.
He grinned.
She picked up the clipboard, noticing the top page was not medical. It was a transcript of a message. She read it through quickly. She looked up at Sikura.
"You read it," she said. "How many others saw it?"
"One. I was in the com room when it came through. It was piggybacked on the regular message beacon. Do you want to explain that?"
"No," she said honestly. "Who saw it?"
"Linnea. She's all right. I trust her."
"You trust too easily," she said as she skimmed through the message again. "But you're right about Linnea. Do you think she'll come with us?"
"We're leaving?"
"Yes," she said and found this time she meant it.
"Just what did the note mean?"
"Do you still work for Lowell?"
He didn't answer. He just waited.
"Did you ever hear of Dace?" she asked.
His eyes widened. "The legendary Dace, captain of the Phoenix Rising? The agent that could only possibly exist in a vid? Of course I've heard the stories about her."
"Most of them aren't true."
"That's obvious. What does she have to do with you?"
"The truth is even wilder. She's in trouble again. I'm going to get her out."
"Wait one minute. How do you know the truth about her? She exists, yes, even I saw the news about her engagement to Vance Shiropi, Second Speaker to the Council of Worlds. But she can't possibly be one of Lowell's agents."
"She isn't, not anymore, and never willingly," Paltronis said. "You said you would trust me, Sikura. Trust me on this. She's much more than the stories say. This note was sent to me because they think I'm still with Lowell. They know he's being watched."
"Who knows? What they are you talking about?"
"The crew of the Phoenix Rising. Dace is missing from Tireo. They want to know if Lowell is involved this time."
"Should I check you for delusional behavior?"
"Trust me, Sikura, or I'll leave you here to rot. I'm going, tonight."
He studied her, searching her face intently. "Just tell me one thing," he finally said. "How do you know Dace?"
"I met her on Burundia, when she had most of Targon after her. I was on Xqtl when she shot the Faceless Five of Blackthorne. I was the one who suggested she enlist as an Admiral."
"You know her personally? Pull the other leg, it's got bells on."
"Believe me or not, Sikura, but I'm going tonight."
"How? You don't hav
e access to a ship."
"I'll do whatever I have to."
"I've got contacts in the port. I can get us out but it's going to take a few days."
"Tonight, Sikura. I've been here too long already."
He sighed. "Two days. I'll pull in every favor I've ever been owed."
"How many berths can you get?"
"What are you thinking?"
"Linnea should come, she's seen the message. She may be able to guess the truth."
"I'll ask her, but I don't know if she'll come. She's still convinced she has a future in the Patrol."
"I'm going to talk to the brute squad. We could use some muscle."
"They'll be trouble," Sikura warned.
"Not for me," Paltronis said. Her smile had lots of teeth and promised pain.
"Then I'll see what I can do. What destination? Tireo?"
She shook her head. "They'll be gone long before we get there. I'll have to do some checking in the library. They'll leave a message on Landruss for sure."
"You're serious about this?"
"Completely."
He took the message from her and pushed it into the biohazard waste disposal slot in the wall. The smell of burnt paper drifted out of the slot. "No evidence."
"You'll probably hit the Patrol most wanted list for this."
He shrugged. "Desertion of duty isn't that high on their list."
"Stealing most of the armory will be, though."
He laughed. "This is going to be lots of fun," he said as he turned the faulty equipment back off. "You check out just fine, sergeant."
Chapter 23
"Master Luke?"
Luke Verity looked up from his soup with a scowl. "You were warned, Bart, never to interrupt me at a meal."
Bart shuffled his feet nervously. "Sorry, sir, but this came special delivery. I thought it might be important, sir."
"Then bring it here. Don't just stand there like an idiot." Luke put his spoon down, irritated beyond belief by the incompetence of the people he had hired.
Bart shuffled forward and placed the paper on the table. He moved quickly back out of range of his employer's temper. Two years in prison hadn't improved it any.
Luke ignored him. He picked up the paper, turning it in his fingers. His name was written on the front. There was no other identifying information. The fact that the paper had still found him made him uneasy. Someone knew where he was. Someone in his organization had passed this message on to him. He would punish whoever it was later. He held the paper out.
"Open it," he ordered. He knew there was someone behind him to obey his order.
The serving maid scuttled forward and took the paper in shaking hands. She quickly broke the seal and smoothed the page flat on the other end of the table. No vapor rose from the sheet. Nothing attacked him. Nothing blew up.
Luke crooked his finger at her. She picked up the paper and brought it to him. She laid it on the table in front of him.
It was mem paper. An expensive note, but one way to be certain the recipient received the full contents of the message. He tapped the corner. The paper came alive with a picture. He stared at the face. His anger flared white hot. Someone was taunting him. He snarled and swiped at the paper. The face fluttered to the floor, still smiling smugly into the camera.
He hated that woman, the face that had destroyed his plans. That woman had sent him to prison. She looked so innocent, so deceptively young.
"Burn it!"
"But there's a message," the maid bleated.
"Who sent it?" Luke shouted. She cringed away from him. He jumped to his feet, knocking his chair backwards. "Who sent it?" he shouted at Bart, who still cowered near the door.
"It came from the arms merchant," Bart said. "It came with the other merchandise listings."
Luke stomped on the picture of the face. He hated the woman more than he could possibly verbalize. He caught sight of the words scrolling below her face and moved his foot. He picked up the sheet of mem paper and read the full message. His anger melted. He began to laugh.
The maid scuttled out of his way, stopping only to set the chair back on its legs. She retreated to her corner near the kitchen door.
Luke dropped the page onto the table and reseated himself. He calmly resumed his interrupted meal.
"Bart," he said when he'd finished the main course.
"Yes, sir?" Bart jumped forward.
"Liquidate everything you can," Luke said. "We're going to the arms sale. We have two weeks to raise as much money as we can."
"Sir?" Bart asked, confused. "We don't deal in weapons. We deal in drugs."
"I know exactly what we deal in," Luke snapped. "But this time they have a piece of merchandise I just can't resist. You have your orders."
Bart snapped a salute and hurried from the room. The maid crept forward to clear his plate. Luke ignored her. He smiled at the photo.
"Who would be stupid enough to put you up for sale at a market?" he mused to the picture. "What kind of trap are you laying this time?"
The maid brought in a dessert course, setting it very carefully in front of him. He picked up his spoon and paused, holding it suspended above the creamy froth in his bowl.
"There is a spot on my spoon."
She scurried forward, apologizing breathlessly while she took the spoon and found him a clean one.
"Be glad I'm in a good mood," Luke told her. "I'll only have you beaten a little."
The woman wilted out of his way, crouching in the doorway.
Luke ignored her, smiling at the photo. He licked a bite of dessert from his spoon.
"Whatever your trap is," he told the face in the photo, "it won't be good enough. Not this time." He laughed at the photo. "Whatever game you are playing, Dace, you aren't going to win. Not this time."
Chapter 24
The ship landed. I was still locked in the smuggling compartment. Matthias let me out occasionally. Mostly to taunt me. He sometimes fed me. He sometimes let Largo take me to the bathroom. I focused my energy on surviving until he let something slip I could use against him. He was too careful. Other than that few minutes in the cabin, he hadn't let me near anything I could possibly use. I resigned myself to just existing for a while.
The engines shut down. The constant vibration in the floor ceased. The air system was still on. It blew through the compartment. I couldn't hear anything. The space was too well insulated. I sat in the dark and waited. I was getting much too good at waiting.
I finally fell asleep. I'd been sleeping a lot. There was nothing else to do.
The door opened. I fell out onto the floor, sprawling at Matthias's feet. He laughed and picked me up. I blinked and tried to shade my eyes. Too much time in the dark had left me almost blind.
"As promised," Matthias said. "And no one is chasing us, officially or otherwise."
"How do you know?" The new voice was cold and female. I didn't recognize it.
"We've checked, Hestia. I'm not stupid."
"That's still up for debate," the woman said. She leaned forward and pinched my face. "Why not take her to the slave market?"
"Because it's not being held for another two months. I don't want her on the ship that long."
"And you seriously think someone will buy her at the weapons bazaar?" The woman didn't sound like she believed it.
"I've made contacts," Matthias said defensively.
The woman shoved my face to one side, dropping me like a diseased animal. Matthias shook my shoulder, forcing me to stand.
"They'll be there, someone will pay my price," Matthias insisted.
"And when none of them want her?" the woman prodded. "She's hot, Matthias. No one wants caught with her."
"She doesn't have any protection left," Matthias insisted. "Her Patrol connections are gone. She has nothing else."
"What about the Gypsies? They claim her as one of their own."
"I have promises. They want her and her meddling friends out of the way. The Gypsies guaranteed t
hey wouldn't interfere. As long as you don't rub their nose in it, that is. You force this into the open and they will have to take action."
"I won't do any such thing," the woman said. "The greater the distance I keep from them, the better for everyone. Are you certain there isn't anyone else?"
"She doesn't have anyone left with any clout at all," Matthias assured her. "The only ones who might come looking for her are her ship crew. They have nothing, no resources, no money. I took care of that."
"They own businesses, hundreds of them," the woman protested.
"Not anymore, not in the Empire. Everything they own is confiscated. It cost me a bit to get them on the most wanted list again, but it was worth it. A favor to an old friend."
"What about their Federation contacts?"
"What about them? The Federation is too busy with their latest acquisitions. The systems that just joined are giving them headaches. By the time they find out about her, if they find out, it will be much too late."
"You seem to have figured all the angles. I'm impressed."
Matthias smiled smugly. He jerked the collar of my shipsuit, making me stumble again. "You put her up for me and you'll get your cut. It should be quite a substantial sum. She's got a lot of enemies."
"Forty percent of the sale price," the woman said.
"Fifteen is your standard rate," Matthias objected.
"For stolen weapons and ships, not for people. Forty percent."
"Twenty, no more. I've taken all the risks here."
"And I'm sticking my neck out agreeing to sell her for you. Thirty seven."
"She stays in my custody until the sale. I'm still taking all the risks. Twenty one."
"I don't deal in people. Thirty five."
"And I don't steal weapons. Twenty two."
They dickered back and forth. I stood in front of Matthias, his hand twisted into my collar. The hatch of the ship was closed. I couldn't see out. But maybe if Matthias got distracted enough I could fight him off and run for it. I didn't see his crew or Largo anywhere.
"It's going to kill me, but twenty seven," Matthias said.
"Done," the woman agreed. "The sale is in eighteen days. If you aren't there, no deal. You have to be on time."