“I’ll accompany you,” Jake said, moving determinedly to his side.
“That is not necessary.”
“I think it is.” Jake’s hand hovered near his hip where he was accustomed to wearing a sword or a blaster. He wore no obvious weapons tonight.
Sissy had no doubt he had knives and such hidden on his person. He always did.
“I’ll come too.” Sissy bounced to her feet. Her toes caressed the thick carpeting in the luxurious apartment. Vibrations from the power plant trickled up her body to jangle with her unconscious awareness of the separate facility in the Harmony wings of the station. A headache threatened to tie her neck in knots.
On Harmony she had only the mother planet to attune her mind and body to.
Jake gave her a swift, assessing glance and frowned. “You should be in bed, My Laudae.”
“We all should. But something is out of control here, and I mean to be with you when you discover the source. I may need to perform a ritual to bring it all back into balance.”
“You don’t have any crystals or incense, My Laudae,” Jake reminded her.
“I have my voice. If I can sing a planetary quake to silence, then surely I can sing a space station into balance.”
Lukan nodded in approval of the High Priestess.
“Superstitious nonsense.” Telvino shook his head and paced more rapidly, his steps bringing him close to their host and the exit.
Jake frowned.
Sissy couldn’t tell if the CSS ambassador displeased him with his belief, or if she brought on the frown because of her insistence on accompanying him. His frowns always made her want to soothe him with a gentle touch and compliance.
Tonight she had to stand firm. Her place was with these men, rooting out the source of the problem.
Someone should have noted the passage and trajectory of the alien ship. Someone should have sounded the alarm and started evacuation before the crash.
She felt chilled to her heels. “You may handle this your way, Colonel Jake. I will handle it mine.” She marched in front of him and waved her hand before the door sensor. It shooshed open on silent sliders. “Please lead the way, Mr. Labyrinthe.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Jake jumped on the lift first. He needed to make certain Labby didn’t make a break for it once they reached the top and the trams. The station manager could easily use the screens in his spectacles and the communications embedded in his teeth to alert Control to cover up any mistakes.
Something was definitely rotten at the First Contact Café.
An empty tram car waited for them at the top of the lift. Jake stepped off carefully, to make sure he didn’t drift too far from the others in nulgrav. Labby came up, one platform behind him. Jake took up a position beside him as they filed into the waiting tram cubicle, using the handrails to orient themselves.
Sissy paused a moment at the doorway—one entire side of the tram. She touched two fingers to her lips, then placed them atop one of the markings at the side.
Jake raised his eyebrows at her. She shrugged and moved inside. The doors slid closed behind her.
Out of his peripheral vision Jake saw Labyrinthe begin walking up the wall in preparation for heading “down” in the tram to Control at the opposite end of the station. Something seemed out of alignment. Maybe it was a shift in lighting. Maybe his brain was still starved for oxygen.
Jake grabbed the huge spectacles off Labby’s face.
“I beg your pardon!” Labyrinthe exclaimed. He reached to take the tool back.
Jake held it behind his back and walked up the opposite wall, as comfortable in this weightless environment as Labby. “We want this to be a surprise visit,” he said. “A surprise for the one who let an illegal ship, piloted by aliens not on the approved list of visitors, slip past his sensors. Not a surprise for us facing armed troops at the entrance.”
“I do not employ armed troops.” Labyrinthe stretched to his full length indignantly. His head barely reached Jake’s shoulder.
Jake merely raised his eyebrows at him.
“You have severed all comms by disconnecting me from those spectacles.” Panic thinned Labby’s voice.
“Have we now? No backup? Now that’s unusual. Maybe negligent. What would happen if you tripped and the glasses broke? Would the entire station shut down?” Jake inspected the instrument, hoping he could intuit its workings.
Labby quivered in agitation, but he remained silent.
Telvino grumphed and growled. “Good work, Jake.”
“What about the communications in his teeth?” Lord Lukan asked.
Jake peered through the spectacles a moment. “The sensors in his teeth are linked to the earpiece here.” He pointed to the elongated knob at the end. “Can’t use comms unless he’s wearing the spectacles.”
“May I see?” Sissy asked. She held out her hand politely. She too had taken a post in the proper alignment for the end of the trip along the central hub.
Jake handed them to her. She’d respect them and not let him, or Telvino, stomp on them in the next fit of anger.
She placed them on her nose and giggled. “Too many things to focus on at once. It’s like looking through . . . through, you know, Jake, the child’s toy that looks at changing patterns of fractured glass.”
“Kaleidoscope,” he supplied the word.
“Yes, kaleidoscope.” She chewed her lip a moment, a habitual gesture when she memorized a word. “In time I could figure it out.” The oversized spectacles spun off her head as she twisted about trying to peer into every section of the lenses.
Labyrinthe grabbed for them.
Jake beat him to it, by the sheer length of his arms. “Sorry, Labby. Until we get this all figured out, I’ll keep custody of these.”
“Ambassador Telvino,” Labyrinthe stiffened indignantly. “Your man is out of line. You are in violation of your contract with Labyrinthe Space Stations, Incorporated. I can demand all CSS personnel depart within twenty-four hours if you do not curb him and return essential property.”
“But your contract with the Harmonite Empire demands that this station remain clear of all but a few humanoid aliens.” Lord Lukan looked at his fingernails. “First off, you are in violation of our contract in allowing aliens to breach the hull. Second, while we remain, you cannot open quarters and docks to others. You will lose over half your income when Ambassador Telvino departs with his people.”
“And if you are found negligent in your operations of this station, I have the authority to confiscate the entire station in the name of the CSS,” Telvino reminded them in a deceptively even tone.
“But . . . but . . .”
“Mr. Labyrinthe, would you care to have me bring my crystals and incense to Control to cleanse it of all negative thoughts and any imbalance of energies that might affect the behavior of your people?” Sissy asked mildly. She floated around them all, like some street punk fairy in her borrowed clothes.
Jake admired how proficient and comfortable she’d become in this alien environment in just a few months?
Then Jake remembered frequent outings and field trips with her back on Harmony. Laudae Sissy never was one to sit still and read a book when she could learn just as much by observing the world. He knew that Sissy and her girls had explored every inch of the station.
Jake shook his head in amazement. Just when he thought Sissy could no longer surprise him, she did. Her capacity for learning proved how unjust and inadequate the caste system on Harmony had become.
But Harmony had to remain . . . Harmony . . . a while longer. When the CSS had the formula for Badger Metal, he’d gladly help dismantle the entire caste system and government. Personally. With his bare hands. For what they had done to Sissy and her family.
They completed the swift ride to the opposite end of the station in silence. Acceleration mimicked gravity, and they all kept their feet firmly in place on the new floor.
Weight and orientation ceased as the tram came to an abrupt halt.
&nb
sp; The door opened slowly.
Jake held Labyrinthe back with an extended arm while Sissy led the two ambassadors into the nullgrav lobby. Once more she kissed her fingertips and placed the kiss over a marking beside the door. Jake peered closely at a newly painted set of curved lines: the glyph of Harmony they’d found repeated in line drawings around the funeral caves on Harmony.
As he exited the tram last, Jake gave his own ritual kiss to the Goddess in thanks for a safe trip. It couldn’t hurt to keep on Her good side.
Jake moved ahead with a bounce and glide through the minimal gravity and onto the first platform of the lift headed down to the Control levels. Sissy and Lukan herded Labby onto the next one, leaving Telvino to bring up the rear.
As they passed each level, a holo of the gravity designation and level number flashed on the moving platform. At Control central, the middle of the light-G levels, Jake jumped off and turned a full circle, hand hovering close to his hip and his hidden miniblaster.
Computers, observation screens and real-time windows spread out around him, filling the level to the bulkhead. All personnel had deserted their posts.
Adrial roused from her fitful slumber. Too warm outside. Too cold inside herself. The air felt heavy and too full of moisture. She kept her breathing shallow.
Out of long habit she remained immobile, listening, absorbing the knowledge about her surroundings through her other senses. A faint citrus taste in the air caressed her nose and tongue. That meant she was aboard a space station or ship. She reclined on piles of soft and lumpy pillows rather than a mattress. Scratchy blankets over her without sheets. Not a medical facility. The smell of testosterone-laden sweat. A man’s quarters.
Instantly she shifted her attention to her own body. No aches or stickiness in the wrong places. She hadn’t been violated this time. The sacred breeding rituals had not been profaned. This last survey did reveal sharp pains along her ribs. Deep pain. Bone deep. Duller aches showed her where bruises formed on her hips and back.
Memory crashed through her mind: Blaster fire whining above her head. She ducked and dodged into a narrow opening among the refuse of a back alley. Long-legged men in bright blue Law uniforms with equally blue feathers growing in a tall crest atop their heads paced after her. They moved with the confidence and pride of those who never failed to capture their prey.
One of the Law raised his arms high. Blue and white striped feathers decorated the folds of skin opening from the concealing flaps beneath those long, long arms. He ran six steps and lifted into the air. His head swiveled back and forth, surveying the hidden places in the alley.
Adrial pressed herself deeper into the shadows. Her white prisoner’s gown gleamed in the faint starlight.
Why did these Messengers of the Gods punish her so? She had been spared by the avenging Gods and had taken their gift of life into exile. For fifteen years she had studied and prayed and searched for the spiritual center of the universe. She had done everything she could think of to find a true path back to the Gods, to make up for her lack of blood purity.
Still the Law sought her out and tested her faith time and again. What more did she need to do before the Gods finally accepted her as one of their children?
The flying Law’s eyes snapped toward her. He chirped once. His partner chirped back in acknowledgment and aimed his blaster directly at Adrial’s heart.
Certain she must die in the next heartbeat, she crouched in on herself, making her body as small as she could. At the same time she pressed even farther backward.
The wall behind her gave way. She tumbled into darkness.
The whining blast of energy had struck the metal door as it closed behind her.
Adrial dug her palms into her face, trying desperately to erase that memory. At the same time she hoped to dig out what had happened afterward.
This was no Maril prison cell on a rim world. The Messengers of the Gods granted few comforts like pillows and blankets. The subtle vibrations of a power plant felt wrong for a Maril ship.
Where am I? What happened to me?
Jake didn’t wait for questions. Leave those for the ambassadors, the professional talkers. He dove into the chair at the center of Control. The dormant screens awoke at his touch. No security, no password required.
“Dumb!” he shouted. “Leaving Control empty without any kind of security is downright stupid as well as negligent.”
He took a moment to familiarize himself with the screens. Different glyphs, but touchpads and keys seemed pretty standard. Touch here, slide a finger there.
Ah, he had communications, he had short-range sensors.
Lights flashed red all over the damn place warning of the crash and hull breach.
Then he found an icon that looked like a miniature maintenance bot. He touched it. Nothing happened. He pressed harder. Still nothing.
Labyrinthe appeared beside him. His teeth chattered in agitation. A stream of harsh syllables erupted from his throat.
The screen to Jake’s left brought up a visual of the diplomatic wing with sensor readings in a long column to the side. He stared in dismay at the icy mess of the crumpled craft and dead squid pilots draped across the nose. The ice seemed to have stopped the air and pressure leakage.
“I . . . I . . . I know nothing of how this tragedy occurred,” Labyrinthe stammered.
The communications screen remained blank. Jake touched a message glyph that flashed with urgency. The blankness dissolved. A page of a standard memo form blossomed before him. He read aloud the same paragraph in three different languages. “Due to budgetary concerns, Control staff is cut entirely during the non-traffic hours of 2300 hours to 0500 hours. Signed Labyrinthe Seven.”
Labby’s eyes opened wide in horror.
“Not even one half-trained watcher for emergencies?” Jake asked.
“I did not send that message,” Labby insisted.
“Got your signature.”
“Anyone . . .”
“Not just anyone can send along that restricted path.” Jake traced the memo back to the terminal of origin. It could only have come from the penthouse at the opposite end of the station. The manager should be in the same wing as Control. Or at least an adjacent wing in the cluster for emergencies.
“I cut staff to minimum to save money. Your rents barely cover operating expenses, and your restrictions mean I cannot open most of the station. You only occupy seven wings—two clusters out of twenty-seven.” Labby stood firm. “I did not authorize that message.”
“Maintenance ’bots are turned off. Not just powered down.” Telvino said settling into a post adjacent to Jake. “Another cost-saving measure?”
Jake found a routine for awakening the ’bots. Who knew how long it would take to get them working again.
“Whether you sent that message or not, you are responsible for the operation of this entire station. You have endangered our delegation and the negotiations between Harmony and the CSS.” Lord Lukan sounded appalled.
“You’ve left the station vulnerable to Maril attacks. My sources say they have fighter squadrons prowling this sector looking for just such an opening,” Jake snarled. Damn, he wished he had a fighter squadron attached to this station. With his own ship to lead them.
“Mr. Labyrinthe, I hereby exercise my diplomatic authority with the CSS—within whose space you operate—to confiscate this station,” Telvino said. He stood at attention, every inch the admiral he used to be. “Colonel Devlin, take this person into custody. Do you have enough trustworthy people to operate this place for us?”
“Hell, no.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Guilliam!” Laud Gregor, high priest of all Harmony and its six colonies, shouted for his assistant.
The senior acolyte had quarters right next to Gregor’s. He should be within easy hailing distance. Guilliam was required to be within hailing distance. He’d been no more than a few steps away, keeping life organized and efficient for fifteen years, ever since Gregor was elevated t
o High Priest.
But then Gregor had made the huge mistake of elevating Sissy to become his High Priestess. Change had followed in her footsteps from her first utterance of prophecy. Change equaled chaos, which led to Discord.
“Guilliam, where in the seven hells are you?” Gregor yelled into the comm unit. He’d never had to use it to summon Guilliam before.
“May I be of assistance, My Laud?” a small voice came from the doorway between Gregor’s bedroom and private sitting room. The young man’s words cracked in the middle and rose an octave.
“Caleb? Why are you on duty and not Guilliam?”
“Mr. Guilliam is needed elsewhere, My Laud. How may I help you?” The youngest of Gregor’s seven acolytes stepped cautiously across the threshold.
Mumbling and grumbling, Gregor pointed to his half-empty traveling trunk. “Pack that.”
“Yes, My Laud.” The boy scuttled toward the closet and lifted down three green shirts, still on their hangers. “How many days will you be away, My Laud?”
Gregor calculated the journey, a day to the jump point. Discord only knew how long the trip through hyperspace would be. Time ran differently there than on conventional clocks. Then another day to the space station. He hoped to conclude his business there in a few hours and return. A week at most.
But he could not count on Laudae Sissy’s cooperation.
“Three weeks, Caleb. I’ll need full formal regalia as well.” The delicacy of his negotiations required that he maintain the aura of power and mystery inherent to his office. “And when you have finished, find Mr. Guilliam and make certain he is ready to depart.”
“You travel with only one acolyte, My Laud?” Caleb’s eyes grew wide with horror.
“You are correct, Caleb. I will need another assistant on the journey. Prepare yourself as well.” Gregor turned to sorting books and papers he needed, including a full and accurate copy of the original covenant with the Goddess, as recorded on the stone tablets beneath the High Altar in the forecourt of the Crystal Temple.
“You will break the symmetry of seven, My Laud?”
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