by Jaleta Clegg
"Boots, too," Cedra added. "No one will believe you're a spacer in those shoes."
Deena handed over her stylish shoes and took the worn boots in return. It was just like a costume for a part. She put the boots on. They were slightly wide on her feet.
Cedra knocked on the door. It opened a crack. "We need a duffel," she said to whoever was outside. "They want the bag she's got."
A floppy bag was passed inside. Cedra held it out to her. Deena didn't need to be told what to do this time. She put her bag on the desk and opened it.
"They want your underpants?" Cedra asked when she saw what was inside.
"I suspect they're after the other things that are hidden in the underpants," Deena answered. She could do this. She just had to get into costume, get into character. Then the rest would be easy.
She transferred her things quickly to the duffel. She pulled the lining free in her bag and slid out Scholar's pad and his notes. She tucked them into the duffel, sliding them down the side. Her bag looked too empty. She took some of her clothes and pushed them into the bag.
"Clever," Cedra said. She took the bag and zipped it shut. She pulled her scarf free from her hair. It was red brown, remarkably close to the color of Deena's own hair. Cedra took her scarf and deftly tied it over Deena's head.
"Now you're me and I'm you." She gave Deena a final grin as she slipped out of the office, carrying Deena's bag.
Deena picked up the duffel. She had made her choice to trust these people. She felt good about it. She could do this. The knot in her belly relaxed. It was only stage fright now. She slung the duffel over her shoulder, imitating the spacers she'd watched outside. She pulled the door open.
Schafer lounged against the wall. He glanced at her and nodded. He pushed away from the wall and headed towards a door leading out to the spaceport. She followed him, walking quickly at his heels.
They Patrol officers were actively searching now. They waited at the door. Schafer pulled an id disk from his pocket and handed it to them. They slid it into a reader then gave it back, letting him pass outside.
It was her turn. Deena pulled the disk from her pocket and handed it over. She imitated Schafer's nonchalance as she waited for them to scan it.
"A little old for an assistant, aren't you?" the man asked as he fingered her disk.
She shrugged. "I got bored with my old job and wanted to trade."
"This disk is new," he said, holding it just out of her reach.
"I got tired of my old ship," she said. "They just transferred me over today."
"She's got a bit of a reputation," Schafer added. "Captain Jenssen will straighten her out."
"I've heard about her," the Patrol officer said with a smirk.
"And we're running late, so if you don't mind, we'll be leaving." Schafer took the id disk from the man and handed it to Deena.
They both walked away. Deena resisted the urge to look behind her. The Patrol officers hadn't completely believed them. She'd seen the flicker of suspicion in the officer's face.
They crossed behind a large transport crawling slowly towards the far gate. Deena let out a shaky breath.
"You did great," Schafer told her. "But we aren't out of the port yet." His com crackled. He answered it, talking softly enough she couldn't hear past the thundering in her ears. Her heart was beating triple time. "We've got to move," Schafer said. "They caught up with Cedra. They know she isn't you."
He took her arm, pulling her into a run across the spaceport. Schafer caught up with another transport and boosted her into the back of it.
"Get under cover and stay hidden," he said. "Don't come out until you hear me tell you it's clear."
She ducked under the covering, pulling it over her head. She thought she heard feet thunder past. And then all she heard was the rumbling of the cargo transport. It felt like hours until it finally crawled to a stop. Her hands were shaking, her heart thumping hard.
The cover was pulled back abruptly.
"Get out, fast," Schafer said.
She scrambled out. He hustled her into the cargo bay of a ship. A hard faced woman about her age waited inside. The woman gave Deena a searching look.
"What ties do you have to Shellfinder Clan?"
"I don't know," Deena said simply. She was tired and drained and scared and wanted the nightmare to stop. "Henrius Grey was staying with me."
"Scholar," Schafer added.
"I don't know what he was doing, only that it was very important. I have to get his data to Will Smythe at Tebros." Deena waited for the woman to make a decision.
"What ties do you have to Shellfinder?" the woman repeated. "I don't want trouble with the Patrol and I'll hand you over if you don't give me a good enough reason not to. Why were you helping Scholar? What ties do you have with him?"
"He promised to help me find my son." It was the truth, it was the reason she'd agreed to help, "Malcolm Tayvis."
Schafer and the woman exchanged looks.
"He isn't Shellfinder," the woman said.
"Not yet," Schafer answered. "But Scholar technically is."
"And where is Scholar?"
"I don't know." Deena felt the tears coming back. She was afraid for Scholar, for herself, for Tayvis, wherever he was. "I don't know what he was doing, but I have everything he left behind. He left me a message telling me to get them to Will Smythe as soon as possible."
The woman chewed her lip. She finally nodded. "Get her inside," she said to Schafer. "We're lifting as soon as we can."
Schafer took Deena's arm again and led her into the ship. He took her to a cabin.
"That bunk is free," he said, pointing at a bottom one in a corner. He squeezed her arm. "You'll be fine. Captain Jenssen is fair. She knows what's right. She's just a bit rough at the edges."
"Thank you," Deena whispered to him. Her nerves still buzzed with adrenaline. But she was safe, for the moment.
Chapter 50
I spent the night dozing in a chair in front of the door. I was angry. How dare Lady Candyce lock me up? I sat and fumed and pretended it hid the fear creeping along my spine. I was trapped. I had put myself into a corner with no way out. She was involved in something and the only way I was ever going to get free again was to find a way to get that information to someone who would care enough to help me out. No sweat. I could do it in my sleep. I was fooling myself. False courage was all I had.
I woke up when the maid eased the door open. I rubbed my stiff neck. The maid very carefully didn't notice me in the chair as she passed to draw the curtains. The door swung shut behind her. There was no sound of a lock.
I shoved myself out of the chair and bolted for the door. I slammed it open and stalked into the hall. I was determined to find Lady Candyce and demand answers. Either that, or steal a flitter and run for it while I still could.
My feet were silent as I padded barefoot through the house. I saw no one in the halls. The house was silent.
It was midmorning, later than I thought. Sunlight poured through the skylights and windows of the rooms I passed. I didn't stop at the dining room, even though I was starving. I kept going, heading for the back of the mansion, where Lady Candyce kept her office.
The door was slightly ajar. I heard voices. It sounded like Lady Candyce and Georges talking. I leaned forward, careful to keep out of sight.
"The reports were verified with previous records," Georges said. "It cost me a good sum to insure the records were not tampered with."
"This is all there is?" Lady Candyce said irritably. "I specified the full battery of tests."
"These are the preliminary results. The full report will arrive within a week. The medic promised me as much."
"Interesting," Lady Candyce said. "Her genetic profile is not even human. Obviously a half breed of some kind."
I wasn't human? I knew I was partly Hrissia'noru, but they were still human. At least according to most definitions. My genes couldn't be that far from human. What did it matter anyway if I were hu
man or not?
"Definitely not human," Lady Candyce said. "She's too far from the accepted norms."
"There's more," Georges said. "You will never have to worry about grandchildren."
"I could almost be pleased. Why did Vance have to be difficult about her? Why couldn't he have just kept her as his mistress?"
What could possibly be in my medical report that Lady Candyce would be happy about? I leaned against the wall, straining to hear.
"She is completely unable to bear children," Georges said in his precise voice. "Perhaps Master Vance could be persuaded to put her aside for that reason."
"It might work," Lady Candyce said. "It would be no shame on me or on Vance."
I couldn't have children? My hands crept over my belly. The cold callousness of Candyce's attitude hurt me worse than her deliberate viciousness. I felt a sense of loss, a deep grief that was unexpected in its intensity.
"Vance will not cooperate," Georges said. "He has too much of a sense of honor. Or he would have merely used her, as his cousin is wont to do."
"You're right, Georges. Vance spent too much time with his father. And he seems determined to marry her."
"Do you wish me to arrange an accident for her?"
"Something discreet, Georges. And soon."
I bolted away, fleeing to the garden before either of them saw me.
The sun was hot. The front garden was empty. I found the bench and collapsed on it.
Falada emerged from the bushes. He sauntered over to me, his tail held high. He sniffed my hand delicately before he jumped up to my lap. I stroked his head and felt hot tears sting my eyes.
Could it be true? Or had the medic made a mistake or changed things deliberately? Hadn't Lady Candyce said something about bribing him to change my records? No, this had to be true. She didn't know I was listening.
I felt the silky cat fur under my hand. Falada bumped against me, his purring rattling in his throat. Was this as close as I was going to ever come to having children? My fingers tangled in his fur. The tears ran down my face.
I wasn't human. I couldn't have children. It had never mattered to me before. I'd never thought about it, not even in my wildest dreams had I imagined myself with children. But the dreams were gone, torn away before I could even begin to dream them. What else was wrong with me?
Falada meowed and bumped against me again. I gathered him up, breathing in the wild smell of his fur.
"I have to leave, soon," I whispered into his fur. "I have to leave before I forget who I am. I have to leave before she finds more ways to hurt me. I wish you could help."
Falada was just a cat. He squirmed and jumped down. I watched him disappear into the bushes. I sat alone, baking under the desert sun. I wiped the tears off my face. I couldn't afford weakness.
I turned over my memories, looking for the strength that would carry me through this. I couldn't find it.
"Lady Candyce wishes you to join her for luncheon," a maid said formally.
I stood and brushed off my pants. I moved stiffly, like an android on autofunction. My best defense was to stay numb, to pretend nothing she did or said could possibly affect me. I had to hide myself. No, I had to escape before she found a way to arrange an accident for me. This wasn't about spying anymore. This was about survival. I followed the maid inside.
She stopped in the main foyer of the house. I stopped behind her, staring blankly at the wall in front of me. She coughed politely.
"Your clothing," she suggested with a meaningful glance.
I looked down. I'd slept in the clothes. Lady Candyce wouldn't approve. I was still playing a part. I turned and went up the stairs.
I found what Lady Candyce called a day dress and put it on. I spent time in front of my mirror, combing my hair and making myself presentable. I'd played this part before, I could do it again. Some of my confidence returned as I carefully brushed makeup over my face.
Her records had to be wrong. I would have to find a way to double check with records I knew I could trust. Right now I had to convince her I knew nothing, I'd heard nothing.
I went down to the dining room with all the dignity I could muster. Lady Candyce was already seated at the far end of the long table looking over a stack of papers. I stood until Georges shuffled forward and pulled out a chair for me.
The serving woman stepped forward, placing steaming bowls of soup in front of us. I waited, though my stomach was growling. Lady Candyce finally looked up from her papers. She lifted her spoon and delicately tasted the soup. I took that as my signal that I could eat.
Lady Candyce said nothing until after the soup had been cleared and salads had been served. She frowned at me, down the length of the table.
"You never chose a paper for your announcements," she said. "I expect your decision by this evening."
She turned back to her papers and her salad. I ate in silence. She said nothing else. I finished my meal and sat quietly, waiting for her to leave first. I'd learned that much in the manners class she'd subjected me to the day before.
"You quite wore out poor Veela yesterday," Candyce said without looking up. "Your lessons will continue tomorrow. I expect you to be a more cooperative student."
I don't know if she was trying to make me feel like a schoolgirl. I didn't know what they felt like. I'd never been one. I took her comment as a dismissal and stood. She frowned, but said nothing. I left.
I went to the garden room and pretended to choose paper. The samples were still laid out. Georges came by to check on me. I fingered paper and pretended I was absorbed in my task.
The house grew quiet. I paced restlessly.
I slipped out of the garden room. The halls were empty. The house felt deserted. I crept towards her study. I didn't hear voices. The door was slightly open. I eased it farther open and peered into the room.
It was empty. I slipped inside and shut the door. I went straight to the desk and rifled through the drawers. I found a thick folder that hadn't been there before. I spread it open on the desk.
My name was prominent on the front page, along with a Patrol embossed seal. I flipped over the front page. It was my medical file. The first entry was dated only a few weeks earlier. It was from the hospital on Besht.
There were scans of my brain and a full physical assessment. My reactions to the drugs had been so different the medics had decided to run a full diagnostic on me to find out why.
On a page buried in the middle of the report, were the words I dreaded. I had been surgically sterilized sometime in the past. The bald words struck deep. I balled my hands into fists to hide the shaking.
A deep memory surfaced, one I'd repressed for many years. I understood it now.
The director of the orphanage called me into her office one morning when I was barely eleven. I was scared. I was usually in trouble, but I knew this time I hadn't done anything. I'd heard the other girls whispering late at night about secret, private things. I didn't understand. I was afraid of the changes I sensed in my own body.
A woman in a severe gray tunic waited inside the office. She looked me over clinically, pinching and pulling at the shapeless tunic I wore.
"They want no future problems with this one," she said to the director. "Two days and it will be taken care of permanently."
She took my shoulder in a tight grip and walked me out of the orphanage. She bustled me into a groundcar. I was fascinated by everything. Only her cold eyes and quick hands kept me in my seat and away from the controls. She finally had enough and hit me hard enough to sting my cheek.
"You will sit quietly," she said.
I sat.
The groundcar stopped in front of a large building. The woman walked me inside, her grip like steel on my shoulder. She took me to a cold room and ordered me to strip. She had no patience with my sense of modesty. I stripped and stood shivering while she poked at me. She sent me into a shower where I was ordered to scrub myself clean. I scrubbed until she said I was clean enough.
I
had to walk naked into another room. I lay on a table. It was cold and hard. The lights overhead were bright. Something stabbed my arm. My vision blurred and faded.
I woke, groggy and in pain. There was a muddled confusion of voices and rooms. The next clear memory I had was waking up in the orphanage. My belly was sore for a while, but other than that life was the same as before.
I hadn't understood at the time what they'd done. I knew now. My hand cradled my belly. Tivor had stolen my future. I was damaged beyond repair.
The door to the office slammed open. Lady Candyce stalked in. Rage pinched white around her mouth.
"You have been warned," she said.
"You have no right," I said tiredly. I spread one hand over the medical files on the desk.
She glanced down at the papers. "You didn't know?" There was a note of triumph in her voice.
I shook my head, unable to answer past the lump in my throat.
"Bearing children is important to a marriage. Do you understand now why you are unsuited to marrying Vance?"
I swallowed the lump and searched for the anger I knew was burning inside. "He asked me to marry him. I will marry him, as long as he wants me." I stared down at the ring on my finger, and wondered if I really meant what I'd just said.
"You never belonged here." She gave me a last cold smile before she swept out of the room.
I sat with my medical files in front of me. I couldn't help the despair. I was damaged. I would never be good enough. I was a nothing and always would be. I cupped my hand over my eyes and cried.
Chapter 51
"Ouch!" A steady stream of swearing came from under the control panel.
Jasyn sat in the navigator's chair and watched her husband's legs. The rest of him was wedged under the controls. The other members of the crew stood in the doorway to the cockpit.
"Do you want help?" Darus asked.
"No," Clark said. "Unless one of you knows how to strip a beacon."
"As we said earlier," Beryn said, "Dace was the one with the criminal talents."