Jericho Falling

by Jaleta Clegg

  "Mart," Jericho announced. He looked up with his lost, bewildered eyes. "My name is Mart. I—" He flapped his mouth, searching for the words. "It's gone," he said, defeated.

  "Mart Jericho," Clark said. "We can get papers for you on Landruss."

  "It's not Jericho," Mart shook his head. "Jericho is a place, a code, a something." He shook his head again, not in denial but in frustration.

  "We need to register you," Clark said. "We list you as Mart Jericho, ship engineer. No one asks questions."

  "It's not legal," Jerimon said. It was his usual objection to anything we did that wasn't completely honest.

  "We're already in trouble," I said. "What difference should that make?"

  "You've gotten worse since you spent time alone with Lowell." Jerimon leaned against the counter, a roll in one hand and a mug in the other.

  "I'm sorry." Mart rubbed his hands over his face. "I didn't know where to go. Except to you," he looked at me.

  I sipped the lukewarm drink still in my mug.

  "We can help," Clark said. "We know people in the Patrol."

  "No!" Mart looked embarrassed by his outburst. "I can't go to them, to anyone. I don't know why. Only that I shouldn't. Only to you."

  "Who's the silver lady?" I asked.

  He looked confused. "I've never heard of her."

  "You told me to protect Jericho and seek the retreat of the silver lady."

  "I don't remember. I don't know what it means."

  "Don't worry about it," Jasyn said, patting his shoulder. He slumped over his mug, staring into it in despair. He didn't react like most men. He didn't seem aware of Jasyn's beauty.

  "I don't remember anything," he said. "There's something very important I have to do, and I don't have any idea what it might be."

  "You've got four days to figure it out," Clark said.

  Mart gave Clark a confused look.

  "We make Landruss in four days," I clarified.

  "I've got four days to convince you not to do this," Jerimon said, giving me a look I ignored.

  "Don't pay any attention to him," Clark said to Mart. "He's not so bad once you convince him to help."

  "He just needs his ego shrunk again," Jasyn said with a sly smile. "Cards, Jerimon?" she offered, all sweet innocence.

  "I bought a new deck of Comets," I said, rubbing my nose.

  "Let the fleecing begin," Jerimon said, giving in to the inevitable.

  Chapter 4

  Tayvis turned from the window at the knock on his door. Not loud and official, but quiet and discreet. He crossed the small room. At least it was private. His rank had some advantages. He opened the door.

  Seya Maharta, trim in her black uniform, gave him a warm smile. "I hear you're leaving on assignment. For Commander Nuella."

  "Nice to know the gossip mill still works in Patrol headquarters."

  "He didn't even try to keep it quiet. The transfer papers came across my desk this morning." Her smile grew brittle edges. "I didn't have the authority to fight it or I would have."

  Tayvis paused, studying her face. The silence stretched.

  "Are you going to invite me in?" she asked. "As your commanding officer, I would like to discuss this with you."

  "Then why didn't you call me to your office?" He crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe.

  "Because, officially, I support this assignment. Unofficially, I'm livid they'd pull this stunt. With you of all people."

  The corner of Tayvis' mouth twitched. "That's a dangerous attitude to air in Patrol territory. Unofficially, would you care to go for a walk with me? Just two colleagues out enjoying the lovely spring weather."

  "It's always spring on Linas-Drias. And as acting High Command, they can't do anything to me."

  "Don't be too certain and don't be too outspoken, Seya."

  "Don't tell me how to do my job, Tayvis. I swept this section and it's clean. No listening bugs. And if there are any hidden ones, they're jammed."

  He shifted from the doorframe. "It's still not a safe place to talk. You may be protected by your position, but I'm not. I'm a known supporter of Lowell."

  "Not anymore. You've switched allegiances. Officially. Nuella owns you now." She pushed past him into the small room. "I wanted to talk to you about it, before I believed the rumors. How about dinner instead of a walk? I know a nice place only a few blocks away." She opened his closet and tossed him his jacket.

  "That doesn't eavesdrop?" He slipped into the jacket.

  "I've paid them to report to me, not Nuella or the others. Plus, my cousins own it. They know better than to double-cross family."

  "Sounds lovely."

  She marched into the hall, turning towards the exit.

  He followed. This was out of character for her, barging into his room. Something had her upset. More than his reassignment to Nuella and Lowell's continued absence.

  She didn't speak again until they were seated in the restaurant. She wrapped one hand around her water glass, poking the ice cubes with one finger. "What are you really doing, Tayvis?"

  "Finding Lowell. Has he sent any messages in the last two months?"

  She shook her head. "I've asked, but no one seems to know where he's gone. I'm worried."

  Tayvis leaned across the table and dropped his voice. "That's why I'm going. I could have fought Nuella, refused the request to transfer. I could have forced him to make it a direct order. And I still would have refused. Except he is right. Lowell needs found and I'm the best one to locate him."

  "To do what? Shoot him or arrest him? He's accused of treason. I heard they have proof, but the Emperor is holding it back for now. He wants answers, too. I've been to court three times in the last two weeks, but I don't have any answers or explanations for Lowell's actions. It would have been nice if he'd left a memo detailing why he's plotting to overthrow the government."

  They fell silent as the waiter approached. The man set a basket of bread on the table between them.

  "Welcome to Veronique's. Have you decided on your order?" he asked, oblivious to the tension between Seya and Tayvis.

  "The usual, Marcos. Thank you." Seya shifted back from Tayvis, sipping her ice water.

  "And you, sir?"

  "The same."

  Marcos flashed a perfunctory smile. "We'll get that right out for you. Enjoy your dinner."

  Tayvis watched him mince across the restaurant towards the kitchen. "What's the usual?"

  Seya set her glass on the table. "Whatever they have they can serve in a hurry. I don't usually have much time to wait. Tell me the truth, Tayvis. Why did you accept this assignment?"

  "To find the truth. And to protect Lowell. Whatever he has or hasn't done isn't the point. Keeping him alive is. That's why I agreed to hunt him down. Yes, I may have to arrest him, but that's better than shooting him. Nuella told me to kill him if I couldn't bring him in. I don't have any intention of doing that unless Lowell gives me no choice. Nuella could send others who wouldn't have any qualms about shooting first and asking questions of Lowell's corpse. Is that what you wanted to know?"

  Seya nodded. "I heard you and Lowell had some major disagreements over the last year or so. I wanted to know if you still cared about him enough to give him a fair trial."

  Tayvis plucked a roll from the basket, turning it in his fingers. His personal feelings weren't any of her business. He'd do his job until his enlistment ran out. Only a few more months and he'd never wear a uniform again.

  She reached across the table to lay her hand on his. He glanced up to meet her gaze.

  "If Lowell is betraying the Empire, he's got a very good reason."

  She nodded. "Bring him back breathing and in one piece. And tell him I'm tired of doing his job."

  "When I find him. Did he leave any clues where he was headed?"

  "I found a short memo mentioning Roderick, the Emperor's cousin. You might want to start there."

  "I'll send what messages I can, but Lowell's networks are compromised."

/>   "I know." She dropped her hand as the waiter approached with their dinner.

  Chapter 5

  Mart watched us play the first round. Jasyn and I had worked out a series of signals that Jerimon didn't know. Clark didn't pass any, but he managed to play the right cards anyway. Jerimon lost that round, miserably.

  "You want to play, Mart?" Clark offered as he shuffled for the next round.

  Mart shook his head. "I don't know how."

  Clark cocked an eyebrow and dealt him in anyway.

  "You can't possibly lose worse than Jerimon," Jasyn said. "We'll coach you."

  I watched Mart with interest. Comets was a common game, especially among spacers, more especially among those who had gone to the Patrol Academies. It didn't matter which of the hundreds of branches you attended, every Patrol Academy cadet knew how to play Comets. Gambling wasn't allowed, so if you only played for points, the administration looked the other way. It was a safe outlet, a way to calm frayed nerves and pass time. Space travel involved a lot of waiting.

  Mart picked up his cards and fanned them. From the way he held them, he'd played cards before, played them a lot. He pulled out a card, slid it in somewhere else, hesitated, and pulled it back out and put it somewhere else.

  "Five," Jerimon announced, dropping his card onto the table.

  Jasyn tucked her hair behind her ear. I played a ten. Mart touched four of his cards before selecting one to play. He laid out a comet.

  "Triple score," Jasyn said.

  "Is that the right one?" Mart asked.

  "It's perfect," I said. Jerimon would have to take the penalties off Mart's score.

  Jasyn laid down her card. "Five. Match," she said smugly.

  Clark grinned and laid down his card. "Double comet," he said and gathered up the cards.

  "Five points to Dace, fifteen to me, and fifty to Mart," Jasyn said. "Double comet minus seven makes thirty three for you, Trevyn," only Jasyn called Clark by his first name, "and penalties add up to negative sixty two, Jerimon."

  "You're cheating," Jerimon said, sulking.

  "And you're whining," I said. "Low score leads."

  Jerimon threw out a card. I played on it, scoring another twenty points. Mart studied his cards, looking lost again. He pulled out three then pushed them all back in. He finally played a card.

  "A two?" Jerimon said.

  "Wait," Clark said.

  Jasyn played her card, Clark topped it with his.

  "Double comet, again," Clark said. "With a nova buildup. You lose again, Jerimon."

  "Twenty two for Dace, five for me, another fifty for Mart plus twenty bonus for the nova, ten for Trevyn, and another loss for Jerimon. Only twenty eight points that time," Jasyn said.

  Jerimon stacked his cards and examined the backs. "You marked these," he accused me.

  "They're brand new, Jerimon, how could I possibly have marked them?" I scratched the side of my nose as I sorted through my cards. Jasyn casually inspected the nails on her hand. The only card Jerimon could possibly play and win was the bladed seven. He tossed out an eleven, double ring. We had him.

  "Nova," I said, playing my card.

  "I know this game." Mart deliberately laid the bladed seven on my card. "Triple nova," he said, his voice making it a question.

  "Good card," I said, even though he'd just cost me fifty points. He'd cost Jerimon more.

  Jasyn tossed a three and Clark topped it off with a six.

  Mart sorted through the cards on the table, counting under his breath. "I've played this before." He gave the scores for that round. He was right.

  What else did Mart know that he didn't realize?

  Jerimon threw out his last cards in disgust. "You're cheating, all of you."

  "Not Mart." Jasyn smiled at her brother. "Loser does the dishes for this trip."

  "You're behind this somehow," Jerimon said, pointing at me.

  "Do the dishes, Jerimon." I gathered the cards.

  Mart took the cards from me. His long fingers deftly shuffled and reshuffled.

  "Where did you learn to play?" Clark asked.

  Mart paused, his hands poised with the cards, ready to shuffle again. I watched his face. He frowned, thinking hard. He still came up bewildered and lost.

  "I can't remember. Nothing before last night." He looked at me, his light brown eyes hunting for any clue hidden in my face. There weren't any there for him to find. "I'm sorry," he apologized, dropping his gaze to the cards. He finished shuffling, slowly, as if they were Lady Rina's fortune telling cards. "I've put you in danger and I can't help you by telling you what danger or why."

  "Now you sound like Jerimon," I said. "Deal, and don't worry about it."

  "Dace has got us into worse trouble," Clark said.

  Mart gave me a puzzled look.

  "If you even start, Clark, I will make you miserable," I threatened. "I'll do the cooking."

  "Don't say a word," Jerimon said from where he rinsed dishes. "That threat scares me more than anything else she could possibly say."

  "Go ahead and deal, Mart," Jasyn said.

  He dealt and we played in earnest. Jasyn and Clark were good, but not nearly as good as I was. I had to try hard and play smart to beat Mart, though. If he'd been able to remember, I would have been in serious trouble. The fact that he remembered enough about Comets to play that well said that his memories were still intact. We just had to find a way to access them.

  I'd heard of numerous ways to erase someone's memory. The drugs that wiped out memories caused brain damage. Psychic probes left scars that rarely healed. Mind wipe techniques used by the Patrol were iffy, most of the time they didn't work. The rest of the time they killed the subject. If there were other methods, I wasn't aware of them. Mart seemed to be able to think and function just fine. His memories of everything before he'd met me were locked away. He'd remembered his name and how to play Comets. We could hope he'd recover the rest.

  Mart came to see me when I was in the cockpit watching the energy waves play over the viewscreen the third day out. He'd relaxed a lot. Jasyn had cut his hair. Jerimon and Clark had found clothes for him. He'd slept well and eaten a lot and was looking much better. The tension in his face still showed, though, especially when he tried to remember.

  "Sit down," I invited. I pulled my feet out of the copilot's chair. He sat in it and stared at the viewscreen.

  "Does it always do that?" he asked.

  "Usually."

  He stared at it for a while. I yawned and adjusted a slider. The ship was running steady. I was only sitting there as an excuse to avoid Jerimon's carping. He hadn't been able to figure out how we cheated. Jasyn and I changed signals. I'd found a few minutes to mark the deck when he wasn't looking. Jerimon hadn't wised up to either strategy.

  "I've been in space before," Mart said, frowning at the colored streaks of light. "But not like this. It was on a bigger ship, a much bigger ship." He sat back, shaking his head. "I can't remember more than that. It was only a few times."

  "Don't push it. You've remembered your name. The rest will come back." I tucked my feet in the chair.

  Ghost drifted in. She brushed against my hand then jumped into Mart's lap. He looked at her, surprised. She sniffed his chin.

  I swallowed a surge of jealousy. She was my cat. "She likes you," I said. "Try scratching under her chin."

  He raised one finger and touched her head. She leaned into his hand, demanding more. He scratched her soft gray fur. She began to purr. He stopped.

  "That means she likes it," I said.

  "I don't think I've ever been around cats before." Mart rubbed the cat's ears. Ghost purred and danced in his lap. He stopped, at a loss to guess what the cat wanted now.

  "Scratch like this." I reached across and took his hand. A tingle of energy pulsed between us. I dropped his hand.

  He stared at our hands. "What was that?"

  "You tell me."

  "I don't know. You felt it, didn't you?"

  "You did i
t once before, on Verrus. You took my hand and told me to 'give'. You took energy from me. Explain it, Mart."

  "I can't. I don't remember what I did." He reached for my hand. I did my best not to flinch away.

  His fingers were light on my palm, holding my hand up so he could study it. He matched his fingers to mine. His were much longer. His palm was warm against mine. Nothing else happened.

  "You're different from the others," he said, still watching our hands. "You're quiet in my head. I have to try to know you're there." His fingers slid back down mine.

  He stopped when he touched my father's wedding ring I wore on my middle finger.

  Mart's fingers played over the ring. "So much pain. Hope lost. Years of emptiness. But not yours." His fingers slid between mine, interlacing my hand in his. "Happiness touched by sorrow and loss. Someone connected to you."

  The tingle built in my hand, not demanding this time, but a gentle warmth spreading through his touch. I blinked back the emotions his comment had awakened. I wasn't very successful.

  "How do you know that?" I asked in a whisper, afraid to shatter the look of peace on his face.

  His eyes were distant as they stared at my hand, at the plain gold band on my middle finger. His eyes were full of pain, of knowledge. A tear crept over my cheek. He reached with his free hand and touched it. He lifted his hand away, watching the wetness shimmer on his finger.

  "So much pain," he whispered.

  He wasn't talking about my father. I reached out with my free hand and wrapped my fingers around his. I thought I'd dealt with that pain. I didn't want to be reminded that it was still there and probably always would be. His fingers curled around mine.

  "I can feel it." He blinked and frowned as he searched my face. The distance in his eyes contracted. He looked lost and alone again. "I don't know what I did."

  "Are you psychic?"

  "I don't know." He closed his eyes, leaning away from me. He left his hands locked in mine, as if afraid to let go. "I don't know what I am."

  What, not who. That was a clue, if I could figure out how to interpret it.

  "We'll find out who you are, we'll help you," I reassured him.