Phoenix in Flames

by Jaleta Clegg

  "Lowell, what have you been smoking? If you're talking about Vallius, that was years ago. They claim that debt has been repaid."

  "I'm talking about Trythia. Or didn't they ever recognize her for that one?"

  "Trythia? Dace refused to talk about it. She mentioned the name once."

  "It was where the colonists on Vallius came from. Without Dace, none of the people held there would ever have escaped."

  "Did you have to make her enlist over it?"

  His face twisted in a grimace, part pain and part guilt. "I couldn't stop her. I tried, Ginni. If you want to hurt someone over that, hit Paltronis. It was her idea."

  "I wouldn't dare. She could flatten me with both hands and feet tied." Her look sobered. "You didn't have to take advantage of her. How could you send her to Tivor?"

  "I was trying to keep her alive, believe it or not. There were others involved in sending her there. They used me as much as I used her. I had little choice. She had to go to Tivor."

  "Paltronis said it was horrible, for all of them. What did you do with Scholar?"

  Lowell shook his head. "I can't find him. No one can. He was on Linas-Drias to help Dace. His last report was waiting for me when I finally got there. I haven't found a trace of him for over four months. And nothing you say will make me feel more guilty."

  Ginni didn't answer, not in words. She leaned back against the door of the cargo bay and shifted the rifle in her lap. Lowell got the subtle message. He wasn't the enemy any longer, at least not for Ginni. He sighed and pushed his hands into his pockets.

  "You did what you thought was best for everyone, not just us," Ginni said after a long stretch of quiet.

  "I was trying to keep the Empire in one piece."

  "One person," Ginni said and grinned. "A bit presumptuous of you, wasn't it?"

  Lowell grinned back. "Probably. I'll settle for keeping just the crew of this ship in one piece. The Empire isn't my responsibility any more."

  "Do you miss it?"

  "Not really."

  "Don't lie, Lowell."

  "So I miss some of it. Like having unlimited resources. And all the information I want. That hasn't been true for quite some time now, not since Roderick framed me for treason." His grin faded. "I don't miss having people die because I sent them somewhere."

  "We may all end up dead." Ginni ran her hand down the rifle. "But it won't be your fault. We chose this."

  Lowell didn't answer. He squinted out into the sunshine. The clouds were finally breaking apart, spilling light across the landscape.

  "Maybe Everett will find what we need," Lowell said, breaking the silence. "We'll know in a week."

  "I still say we should beat the information out of Ananda. Then leave her behind. She's going to sell us out. As soon as she gets the opportunity."

  "She might prove useful."

  "I doubt that. She's a weasel."

  "And we know it. We've got the advantage."

  Ginni shook her head. "This isn't your game."

  "It never really was." He sighed. "She's a calculated risk. We may need her."

  Paltronis rounded the end of the ship, another one of the rifles slung over her shoulder. She eyed the two of them, sitting on the lip under the door.

  "Jasyn wants your advice," she told Lowell. "She wants to know how to start a war."

  Lowell raised both eyebrows. "Who is she declaring war on? Everyone?"

  "Not quite," Paltronis answered.

  Lowell walked away, shaking his head.

  The inside of the ship was noisy. Louie sat on the floor, banging his blocks and shouting swear words. Twyla tried to keep him quiet. She wasn't very successful. Jasyn glared at Clark over the table. Darus and Beryn banged pipes and shouted at each other in the engine room. The thugs Paltronis had recruited were outside, standing watch. Sikura, the medic, and Linnea were hiding in the cockpit.

  "Don't tell me how to handle them," Jasyn shouted at Clark.

  "Then be reasonable," Clark shouted back. "Starting a clan war between the Gypsies won't solve anything."

  "It will get me removed from the Council," she answered.

  "Which you really don't want," Lowell interjected. "Trust me on this, Jasyn," he added when she turned her glare on him.

  "Last time I trusted you—" she started.

  "Then why did you send Paltronis for me?"

  "I didn't."

  "Jasyn, sit down and tell me what you're planning. I can help."

  "I don't want your help, Lowell."

  "Then why did you let me stay on the ship? Why give me status as crew?"

  "Because I felt sorry for you." Jasyn sighed and dropped into a chair. She rubbed her hands over her face. "Tell me how to solve this. Tell me how to get Dace back. Again."

  Louie repeated words he'd heard Darus and Beryn say. Clark scooped him up.

  "Use soap this time," Jasyn called as he hauled their son into his nursery.

  Lowell grinned. "He's showing signs of becoming a great engineer."

  Jasyn shook her head, but she was smiling.

  "Who are you starting a war with?" Lowell asked. "And why?"

  "I received official notice today that my presence is required at Council. And this." She flipped a piece of paper across the table.

  Lowell picked it up and read through it. His grin faded completely. He placed the paper on the table when he finished, squaring it up carefully with the edge of the table.

  "Now you see my problem?" Jasyn asked.

  "The Federation isn't behind this," Lowell said. "Will and Roland would never ask you to make that choice."

  She studied his face, her violet eyes troubled. "How well do you know them? And how do you know the president of the Federation and his shadow?"

  "Dace knows them better." Lowell sighed. "Roland was a monk on Dadilan when Dace was there. She's probably the one who gave him ideas of starting his own country. Willet Smythe worked undercover there, but not for me, whatever he may think."

  "What happened on Dadilan?" Jasyn asked. "Dace never said much about it, except in her sleep. Everything seems to keep coming back to that connection."

  Lowell looked up sharply at her comment, struck by a sudden thought. "There are times I really miss being High Command."

  "What, Lowell?" Jasyn demanded, leaning forward over the table.

  "Prison records," he said. "I need to check the status of some prisoners."

  "And you can't do it here," she said. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Dace put several high profile people in prison," Lowell said. "It was her word against everyone else. They believed her, mostly because of me. Considering what has happened the last few years, those people are most likely not in prison anymore."

  "They want revenge? On Dace?"

  "It makes more sense than any other explanation. Someone put her up for sale knowing there were quite a few people who would pay a lot for the privilege of getting revenge."

  "You promised the syndicates wouldn't touch her," Jasyn objected.

  "They didn't, not until they knocked my power base away from me. There wasn't any way I could protect her. The Federation would have, if you'd made it that far."

  "So you can guess who might have bought her."

  "One of dozens of people. I hope Everett comes through with the information I asked him to find."

  "This might change his mind," Jasyn said, tapping the sheet of paper in front of Lowell.

  "Ask him where his loyalties lie before you say that," Lowell answered.

  "I will, when we see him again. If he's waiting for us on Zik'taura."

  "He'll be there, Jasyn."

  "Despite a Council edict?" She slammed her hand down on the paper.

  "They want you back."

  "So they can disown me again and throw me out, just like they've done to everyone else here."

  "Jasyn."

  "Don't patronize me, Lowell. I'm not in the mood."

  He shifted the paper and read it again. T
he Gypsy Council had decreed that the only members of Shellfinder clan were those with Gypsy blood. Jasyn, her brother Jerimon, and Beryn were the only ones with that qualification. And they were all adopted into the clan by Lady Rina. The Council had voided that adoption. Shellfinder clan, as far as the Gypsies were concerned, had died with Lady Rina.

  "Jasyn." He tried again.

  "It doesn't matter, Lowell. It never really did."

  "You're underestimating people again. This is just the Council. How many ship captains will support you or help you? Like Everett?"

  "None of them," Jasyn answered. "The Council will disown them and shame their clans if they do."

  "You can challenge this. You're the head of the Council. Until they hold an official session and tell you, to your face, that you are no longer Gypsy."

  She frowned, studying his face while she thought through his statement. "Do you think it will do any good?"

  "I think you'll find there are more Gypsies loyal to you than to them." He flicked his finger over the paper.

  "That might work. It will tear the clans apart. You want me to start a clan war."

  "I don't want you to start anything. This is your decision. I'm just offering advice."

  "And if I follow it, the Gypsies will be fighting each other. Just like everyone else in the galaxy." She looked away, impatiently brushing her loose hair behind one ear. "How is this supposed to help me find Dace?"

  "Everett will help. There are a lot of people who will help. We are just going to have to be very careful who we ask."

  "What are you really saying?"

  "Dace is a hero, a legend. The Patrol tells stories about her. There are a lot of people who will be more than willing to help us find her."

  "They aren't the ones at the top," Jasyn said.

  "And that doesn't matter anymore. It never really did. It's the people supporting the top that get the work done. Let them help you."

  Jasyn shook her head, her dark hair rippling like silk. She didn't believe him.

  She didn't realize how famous they were. Dace was a legend. And so was the Phoenix Rising. And so were the rest of the crew. He wasn't sure it would help their cause. But at this point, not much could hurt it. It was already almost lost. He wasn't about to say it, though.

  Jasyn wouldn't give up until she was dead. And neither would the rest of the crew.

  Chapter 39

  The flitters landed at midmorning. The wide gates in the outer wall were pulled open. Two huge cargo haulers crawled into the courtyard, crowding the flitters. I watched from my corner.

  People hurried through the mansion, unloading crates and boxes and odd looking equipment. Shomies came down the stairs and presided over the chaos. She sent most of the stuff down a set of stairs hidden behind a wall panel in the main room. I got a glimpse of bare plascrete lit by bare tubes set in the wall.

  They brought in a new refrigeration unit for the kitchen, a monstrous thing of polished steel. Rivian frowned at it as four men muscled it into place and attached it into the power system. It looked out of place in the sleek black and chrome kitchen area. I wondered about it. The table set nearby couldn't have held more than twelve people. Were all of the extra people going to stay? I'd seen several dozen tramping through the room.

  Rivian looked upset. The beige carpet was tracked with dusty footprints and littered with scraps of packing material.

  "Prepare food," Shomies ordered him as she waddled past him towards the stairs.

  She didn't see the look of rage on his face. I did. He caught my eye across the room and locked stares with me. He turned away abruptly.

  Whatever he did in the kitchen smelled good. Much better than a ration bar. I crumpled a leftover wrapper in one hand. Shomies had paused just long enough to throw one at me that morning. Her people stared curiously at me as they walked past. I sat on my square of flooring and ignored them.

  They began to stop in the kitchen to eat, a few at a time. More boxes and packages were carried through the room and down the stairs. The mess around the kitchen grew. Dirty dishes were left wherever they landed. Rivian gathered them up, muttering to himself as he scraped food off them. The three girls who had helped him before never showed themselves.

  The flitters lifted and more landed. The cargo haulers ground away, out through the gates. Another entered the courtyard. Whatever Shomies was up to, it involved a lot of equipment and supplies. At least half the people carrying things past me wore blasters. Many of them wore blue outfits with a patch on one shoulder blazoned with a company logo. It was teasingly familiar but I couldn't place it.

  The flood of people and equipment finally slowed midafternoon. At least a dozen extra people stayed behind in the mansion when the flitters finally left.

  "There are quarters provided in the north wing," Shomies told the extra people. "I will have a list of duties for you in the morning."

  They were dismissed. They left, heading down the stairs. The door slid shut behind them.

  "Am I required to cook for them?" Rivian asked in the sudden silence.

  "If they ask," Shomies answered without looking at him. "Clean this mess." She waddled away, up the creaking staircase to the upper floors.

  Rivian waited until she was out of hearing range before he cut loose with a very scathing description of her. He stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the filthy carpet and piles of dishes.

  "Let me out and I'll help you," I offered.

  "Now you think I'm stupid?" He turned his glare on me.

  I shrugged. He shook his head.

  I sat in my corner and watched while he cleaned the room. He grumbled and muttered the whole time. He slammed dishes into the cleaner, but only those that wouldn't break. The sky outside slowly darkened.

  The stairs over my head creaked. Rivian's mutterings stopped abruptly. He was on his knees, scrubbing a stain in the carpet. Shomies walked right past him.

  "Dinner will be prepared within the hour," she said. "There will be eleven."

  She maneuvered her bulk through the hidden door and down the stairs. The door shut behind her.

  Rivian threw his scrubbing pad at the door. The look he shot me was defiant, on the surface. I saw the pain under it. He got off his knees and retrieved his pad. His shoulders sagged in defeat.

  A cleaner bot scuttled out of the corner and began sucking up dirt from the carpet. Rivian banged pots in the kitchen. Within an hour, he had the table laid for eleven. The air smelled of spices. My stomach grumbled.

  He poured himself a drink. He sat on the counter and stared at me, sipping his drink, while time crawled past.

  The door to the stairs slid open. He jumped off the counter, his drink disappearing as if it had never existed. His whole manner changed as Shomies came through the door. She was talking with a woman as hard-faced as anyone I'd ever met. The woman flicked a glance over me and dismissed me. I sat quietly in my corner and studied her and the others.

  The woman was obviously the one in charge of the motley crew behind her. She had a scar that twisted up one side of her neck. Her black hair was cropped short. She was lean and hard with no hint of softness to her anywhere. She wore a blaster openly on one hip, a knife on the other. The only ornamentation on her plain blue clothing was a pair of chains wrapped around one boot. She sat next to Shomies at the table, talking too quietly for me to hear more than an occasional word.

  The others were a strange mix. Three of them, two men and a woman, looked more like scientists than thugs. They sat near Shomies and the hard woman. Their conversation, what I could hear, was about chemicals and mixtures and equipment I'd never heard of before. The rest of the group were hired thugs, six armed and dangerous looking men and women. They sat at the other end of the table. Their jokes were crude. Shomies' glare kept them somewhat subdued.

  Rivian served them. Shomies ignored him. She ate and talked and smiled. But not at him. I watched him and saw the pain in his face and the anger he tried to hide.

  Aft
er dinner, the six thugs went back down the stairs. The scientists, Shomies, and the scarred woman moved to the far end of the room. They sat around the table there, deep in discussion.

  Rivian was left to clean up. I was left to listen to my stomach complain about not being fed.

  The scientists left after a while, walking down the stairs with their heads still together while they talked shop.

  Shomies levered her bulk out of her chair. The scarred woman waited impatiently for her, her face impassive but her eyes restlessly scanning the room.

  "You can keep them in line, Nione?" Shomies asked.

  "You need to ask? Why is she here?" She flipped her hand towards me.

  "My personal staff is not your concern," Shomies said coldly.

  "Your private pet? She's dangerous."

  Shomies merely smiled. "I didn't hire you to tell me how to live my life."

  "Your pardon, Hom Pardui, I did not mean to offend." Nione bowed her head submissively.

  Shomies snorted. "You may fool the others, but not me. The first shipment is scheduled for three days."

  "It will be ready." Nione gave me a measuring look as she crossed to the hidden staircase. The door slid shut behind her. I shivered.

  Shomies watched me, her head cocked to one side. "Did you miss your supper?"

  I looked down at the floor. The stairs creaked over my head. I sighed. I could deal with being hungry.

  "Here," Rivian said quietly.

  I looked up. He was holding out a plate to me. The food was cold, congealing on the plate, but it was a lot more appetizing than a ration bar.

  "Won't you get in trouble?"

  "As if you care. Just eat it." He slammed the plate down in front of me. He turned away, headed back for the mess in the kitchen.

  "Rivian," I called after him, but quietly.

  He stopped, his back still towards me.

  "Thank you."

  "For nothing." He poured himself a drink. He turned back to me, leaning on the counter while he drained the glass.

  I ate the food. It was good, even if it was cold.

  Rivian polished off another glass of golden liquid. He was more than halfway drunk when he came to collect my plate. He didn't say a word. I watched him clear away the meal and clean up the kitchen. When he finished, he pulled the bottle of golden liquid out of a cabinet. He held it up. It was almost empty. He frowned and put it back. He sighed, leaning on the counter. He caught me watching him. His stare was challenging. I kept my face neutral.