by Jaleta Clegg
Another cell, painted dull gray, waited for me. I didn't see or hear any other prisoners. I had two guards, one during the day and one at night. They brought my meals and left me to brood. They took off the cuffs only after I was safely inside the cell. I rubbed raw wrists, welcoming the pain of it. Anything to counter the pain inside.
I had a window, a tiny slit near the ceiling. I could watch the sky. The clouds stayed. I couldn't see the stars. I used to watch the stars from the orphanage on Tivor and promise myself that one day I would be free to fly between them. I found comfort in their tiny twinkling lights. I wasn't going to find comfort here, not through clouds. The freedom I'd promised myself had been an illusion anyway.
Three days passed in silence.
The door opened with a clang. A squad of four heavily armed Enforcers waited in the hall. They didn't say anything. It would have been stupid of me to resist. I walked out and let them cuff me again.
They marched me through the building, climbing several sets of stairs. They took me to a long room furnished with a raised desk and a scattering of chairs. The Patrol shield hung on a banner behind the desk. One guard stuck next to me, holding my arm as he marched me to a single chair in the middle of the room. He took his position precisely two feet behind my left shoulder. The others took their station at the doors behind me.
A door opened and another Enforcer entered. He carried a sheaf of paper and a recorder. He fussed with a small table near the desk, arranging his papers and the recorder.
"This inquest is formally opened," he announced when he was done. "Admiral Terrance Claybourne presiding."
The door opened again. A trim man in full Admiral's uniform, including the silver cape, strode in flanked by several more officers. I stood next to the single chair, watching dully.
Until the fourth person walked in and took his position. It was Commander Greyson Hovart. He looked startled to see me. He'd been on Vallius. He'd been with me as we broke into the alien colonization ship. He'd seen what I could do. He thought I was undercover Patrol.
The disappointment on his face broke through the cloud of despair I'd been hiding in. I couldn't bear it. I didn't want him to think I was a traitor. I wasn't. I stood a little taller, finally starting to think. There had to be some way out of this mess. I couldn't think of one.
Admiral Claybourne pounded on the desk, bringing the inquest to order. He glared at me. "This is the accused?" His voice was sharp, the kind of voice that liked hurting things.
"Dace, born Zeresthina Dasmuller," the clerk said, standing to attention. "Planet of origin: Tivor. Current status: Assistant engineer, pilot, and captain of the trading vessel Phoenix Rising."
"And one of Commander Grant Lowell's spies," the Admiral added. "Read the charges."
The clerk picked up his papers. Only two sheets, I noted. Maybe it wasn't going to be as bad as I expected.
"Treason," the clerk said, "against the Sector governments of Cygnus Sector, Regulus Prime, Drushai Sectorus, and Majoris Alpha. High treason against the Emperor Maximillius Septuangent and the Council of Worlds. Conspiracy to commit acts of treason, the list is quite extensive. Theft, burglary, possession of contraband items. And last, failure to obey the direct order of a superior officer."
I looked up sharply at that last charge.
"The charges have been read," Admiral Claybourne said pompously. "The accused is hereby found guilty of all charges and condemned to death by firing squad to be carried out immediately upon dismissal of this inquest." He reached to pound the desk again.
"You can't do this," I said.
He gave me a flat stare.
"You can't do this," I repeated louder.
"Under the Patrol Code, I have every authority to conduct inquests and pass sentence," he said.
"You make a mockery of the Patrol Code. And it doesn't apply to me. As a citizen of the Empire, a non-Patrol citizen, I demand a public trial in the civil courts. You have no authority over me."
He stood, reaching to pound the desk and signal the end of the inquest. Several of his staff shifted restlessly.
"You work for Commander Grant Lowell," Admiral Claybourne stated. "You have been found guilty."
"By you and who else? Do I have a right to speak in my defense? I demand a civil trial under all the laws of the Empire."
I am Dace. I am strong. I will survive. I will not be shot as a traitor.
I had to believe Lowell would come through. I had to believe I would survive. I had to believe I had a future somewhere. I was grasping at straws.
"I demand my legal representative be present," I continued, inspired by the Admiral's hesitation.
"This inquest is over," he said, loud enough to drown me out. Or so he thought.
"I am not Patrol. You have no authority to try me or condemn me. Even in this mockery of a trial."
"Commander Grant Lowell is your commanding officer."
"No, he isn't."
"There are papers on file that prove otherwise."
"I work for him, not the Patrol. You have no right—"
"Shut her up!" Admiral Claybourne ordered my guard.
"She's right," Commander Hovart said. "She isn't Patrol."
I could have kissed him. I hoped he would back me up. Even if he still believed I was Patrol, I didn't care as long as he convinced Admiral Claybourne I wasn't.
"You forget your place, Commander," the Admiral said coldly.
"No, sir, I'm just remembering it," Hovart said. "I know the accused. She isn't guilty of treason, high or otherwise."
"You know her." Admiral Claybourne sounded skeptical.
"I was on Vallius with her," Hovart said. I noted the raised eyebrows and looks the others exchanged. "She isn't Patrol, sir. She is quite right in insisting you have no authority over her."
"You are on dangerous ground, Commander," Admiral Claybourne said.
"No, you are," I said. I made a wild guess. "What orders did you get from Fleet Admiral Johnston? Or perhaps it was High Commander Nuella who told you what to say."
"Shut her up!" Admiral Claybourne stabbed his finger at me. His face was pale. I'd hit the mark. I smiled, as coldly as I could. My knees shook. Admiral Claybourne was part of Roderick's scheme.
"I'm not the traitor, am I?" I asked. "Lowell's on his way to Linas-Drias with the real evidence. Your days are numbered, Admiral."
His staff stirred, whispering urgently to each other.
Hovart was watching me. He turned suddenly to Admiral Claybourne. "Are the charges true?"
"Yes, she's a traitor," Admiral Claybourne said as a last attempt at salvaging the outcome he wanted.
Hovart shook his head, denial of what Claybourne said. "She's right. You have no authority to hold a trial."
"She deserves a chance to defend herself," one of the other staff, a trim woman with commander's clusters on her black collar, put in.
"Her allegations are serious," another man spoke up. "I'm relieving you of duty until the matter is fully investigated."
The look Admiral Claybourne shot at me should have melted me on the spot. I only smiled wider. I'd won and he was losing. And he knew it. He gave in without further argument. He was escorted from the room.
Hovart crossed the room to talk to me as the others argued legal issues. "Can I ask what is really going on?"
"I don't even know where to start. Thanks for your support. I really wasn't looking forward to being shot this afternoon."
"The charges against you still stand, but I will see that you are transferred to civil custody for your trial." He hesitated over his last question. "Are you telling the truth? About being Patrol."
"I'm not Patrol, no. I never have been."
"But you do work for Commander Lowell."
"Technically, yes, I do."
He didn't like that answer any more than the other one. He looked at my wrists, still cuffed, and shifted uncomfortably. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Contact my lawyer?"
"You have one?"
"His name's Leon Gravis. Last I saw him, he was on Besht. He may be on Landruss."
"I'll see what I can do," he promised.
"Stall for a week or two," I said as he turned away.
He turned back and gave me a searching look. And then smiled. He saluted me as my guards escorted me out of the room.
They took me back to the empty cell block and locked me in my cell.
I spent several days lying on the bunk and watching the sky change in the thin strip of window. They brought meals, like before, and ignored me, like before. They did provide a change of clothes, they insisted on it after my fourth day in custody. They gave me a bright yellow jumpsuit, the color only prisoners wore. I didn't argue. It was clean.
I was beginning to wonder by the eighth day. No one came to see me, no one came to tell me anything. My meals were slid through a slot in the wall. I saw the guards as they patrolled the hall outside, once an hour.
I was starting to go crazy from the silence and isolation.
The door clanged open. I looked back, craning my neck to see what was going on. I thought I was hallucinating when Leon stepped in. It was only partly due to the eye-searing purple suit he wore. Leon was short and smarmy and one of the best friends I'd ever had.
"How you doing?" he asked, his grin wide and full of teeth.
"Fine, how are you?" I stayed on the bunk, stretched out where I could watch the sky through the window.
Leon stood next to the bunk, watching me. "Frankly, you don't look good, Dace. They been feeding you? Mistreating you in any way?"
"They ignore me. Must be the yellow. Jasyn told me it wasn't my best color." It was not a very good attempt at a joke, it fell flat.
He stood a moment in silence, hands on hips. He finally blew out a sigh, a loud raspberry of sound. He nudged my feet. I shifted so he could sit on the bunk. There wasn't anywhere else to sit in the cell.
"I got the most interesting visit two days ago. A Commander Greyson Hovart came by my office. Said he wanted my legal advice on his will. Once he got in my office he said it was just an excuse. He said you were here, in custody, and you wanted my help. He also said he couldn't do anything officially. So I spent most of that day and the next trying to find someone who would admit you were here. No one would. No one had ever heard of you. And then, this morning, I got this," he held up a thick sheet of paper. "Official notification that my client was in Patrol custody charged with treason. And then the paper came."
He pulled a sheet of mem paper from his pocket and handed it to me. It was the morning news. Front and center was a photo of me taken on Parrus right after we'd escaped from Vallius. Clark was whispering in my ear, I was actually smiling at the camera. The headline next to it read, "Vallius Rescuer, Hero of the Empire, Charged with Treason?"
"Clark told me to imagine them in their underwear. I was nervous about the press conference." I handed the paper back.
Leon gave me an exasperated look. "Petty crimes I can handle. Vandalism, disruption of trade, theft, disturbing the peace, that kind of thing, like before. But treason? How'd you ever get that one? Last I saw you, the only problem you had was a stray you'd picked up. You promised me it wasn't big trouble."
"So I was wrong."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Mart was only the tip of the problem. One little piece of the puzzle."
Leon pulled a recorder out of his pocket and waved it. "You mind?"
"You're the lawyer," I said, shrugging.
"I'm not a miracle worker, though. This might get nasty before it's over."
"They already tried to shoot me. Tried and sentenced without speaking a word."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "How about you start with right after you left Besht? Tell me everything that happened. Explain why you're sitting in this cell. Tell me how it happened."
It took me the rest of the day. I told him everything. This was Leon, he deserved the full truth.
"So," he said when I finished, "Mart's dead, Tayvis won't ever talk to you again, and Lowell, Jasyn, Clark, and the others are missing with your ship. No wonder you look beat."
"It hasn't exactly been a vacation." Talking about it had brought all the pain back. Whatever state of mental and emotional numbness I'd managed to achieve was shattered.
"It's not going to be any easier getting through your trial and I can't guarantee what outcome you'll get. This makes tackling the Traders Guild easy."
"We lost that one."
"I'm not through fighting them over it," Leon said.
"It's not worth it, Leon. Get over it, I did."
"Only because you found something worse to worry over." He gathered his recorder and papers and stood. "I'll be in touch. Don't go anywhere."
"You don't want to add fugitive to my list of achievements?"
"It's already there, Dace."
"There's no word on the Phoenix?" I asked as he pounded on the door to let the guard know he was ready to leave.
"Not that I've heard. I'll send out feelers. See what I can hear."
"Thanks, Leon. You're worth every penny I pay you."
"Since you don't pay me, Lady Rina's estate does, I must not be worth much."
I stood up from the bunk, facing him. "You've been a better friend than I deserved. And the best lawyer in the Empire. The sneakiest, most devious scoundrel out there."
"You're trying to flatter me."
"I'm trying to say thanks, Leon."
"You're welcome."
The door opened. He waved as he walked out. The door shut again. I laid back down and watched the stars come out as the sky darkened into night.
Chapter 43
Clark adjusted the thrusters. The engines whined in protest. He muttered curses as he checked the levels. The Phoenix showed too many yellow lights. He called over his shoulder, "Jerimon? Any luck?"
Fitch stuck his head into the cockpit. "Jerimon's too busy watching Larella. Beryn says to tell you that the engine's not diego for much longer. Says we need more coolant. And soon."
Clark shot a glance at Lowell, who was seated in front of the library screen, brooding. "That's going to be a little difficult if we keep running between waystars."
Lowell tapped a button. "Patience, for a little longer. Scholar should have the last information unlocked soon."
"Then we set course for Linas-Drias. Lowell, I'm not sure the ship can take another jump."
"One more and I promise we'll stop for maintenance."
"Or we'll all be dead or in prison." Clark scratched a hand through his hair. "We need the coolant now."
The sensors beeped.
"We expecting company?" Fitch asked. "Cause we got some."
"This just goes from bad to worse." Clark swiveled his seat to reach the scanners.
Paltronis beat him to it. She hit the buttons to identify the ship that downshifted near them. "Not Patrol."
Reeco edged in behind Fitch. "Jasyn says to tell you we're almost out of food."
The ship shuddered, the engine skipping. Clark fought the controls. "Tell Jerimon to get up here, now! We're losing the sublights, Lowell. We're out of time."
"Then go," Lowell answered.
"The ship's calling you." Fitch pointed over Lowell's shoulder.
"It's a merchant," Paltronis said. "The Windrigger."
Clark grinned despite the flashing yellow and red lights on his board. "Answer it, Lowell. Tell Everett we're happy he made it."
"Everett?" Lowell questioned as he accepted the call.
"Jasyn's cousin. We sent copies of your data with him."
Lowell shot Clark a measuring look.
"Jasyn?" Everett's voice filled the cockpit.
"She's busy," Clark answered.
"And your ship is showing damage. Everything all right, Clark? You're wanted for treason."
"It's all good, now that you're here. You have any spare coolant, Everett? We've been running hot for a while."
"In more wa
ys than one." Everett paused. "You know Shellfinder clan owes me for this, don't you?"
"Shellfinder?"
"Leon will explain, if you aren't executed as traitors first. I can hook up an emergency chute and send you that coolant. Along with some very interesting data."
"What are you talking about?" Lowell asked.
"Is that Commander Lowell?" Everett chuckled. "I found some files with your name attached. I think you'll be very interested in the contents. Are you ready to receive?"
Lowell gave Clark a puzzled look before answering. "Send it over, please."
The computer beeped. The screen fuzzed, then cleared as data streamed into the memory banks.
"What's going on?" Scholar crowded into the cockpit, shifting Fitch and Reeco back into the lounge.
"New information," Lowell answered as he skimmed the data feed. "Remind me not to underestimate merchants again."
"Or Gypsies," Clark added.
"This is exactly what we needed," Scholar said, fingers twitching across the screen as if it were strings of colored light. "With what we got from Lushay, we can stop Roderick cold."
"Hot bam," Lowell murmured. "Set course for Linas-Drias, please, as quickly as we can."
"As soon as Everett sends over the coolant," Clark answered.
Chapter 44
Another day passed with no word from anyone. I got restless, I'd had all the lying around I could stand. I paced the cell, back and forth, over and over. There wasn't anything else to do. The cell held two bunks, one on top of the other, a microscopic bathroom, and literally nothing else. It took four steps to go from one end to the other. Side to side, I could touch both walls at the same time if I really tried. I did my exercises, sitting on the narrow strip of open floor. And did them again. And then paced more. The visit from Leon had done more than banish my apathy. It had given me a glimmer of hope.
My guards gave no indication that anything had changed. My meals arrived at the same time. The guards strolled past once an hour, regular as clockwork.