Shield of Lies

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  “That’s nice,” Luke said under his breath. “Nosy but discreet.”

  “—Commercial requests for historical records must be accompanied by a completed application and bond guarantee. Individual requests for historical records for purposes of personal scholarly or genealogical research will be processed at no charge on a time-available basis—”

  “Whoa—stop right there, Chuckles. That’s us,” Luke said. “What counts as ‘historical’?”

  “For income, sales, and employment data, all records one fiscal year or older are deemed historical. For birth, death, bonding, and dissolution certificates, all records one hundred days—”

  “What about census data—names and addresses, residences?” Akanah interjected.

  “For biennial census data, all records fifty years—”

  “Fifty!” Luke exclaimed.

  To Luke’s surprise, Akanah was unfazed. “Clerk,” she said. “I have a package to deliver to Po Reggis. Can you tell me his current address?”

  The data probes spun. “Po Reggis resides at North Five, Twenty-seven Up.”

  “Clerk,” she said. “I have a package to deliver to Trobe Saar. Can you tell me her current address?”

  “Trobe Saar is not in the current city directory.”

  “Can you tell me her last known address in Griann?”

  “In revision eighty-one of the city directory, Trobe Saar’s address is North Five, Twenty-six Down.”

  “Are other city directories available?”

  “Yes.” One of the data probes seated itself in a new port. “Connected to Central Directories.”

  “Can you tell me Trobe Saar’s last known address on Teyr?”

  “In Revision eighty-nine of the Sodonna city directory, Trobe Saar’s last known address is Kell Plath, Thirteen.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking Luke’s arm. “Let’s go, Li.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Outside the committee office, Luke tried to stop Akanah for an explanation, but she could not be headed off until they reached the spot where they’d parked the bubbleback.

  “Why are you in such a hurry? We could have tried the children’s names,” Luke said. “Getting Chuckles to look in the city directories instead of the census was working like a charm.”

  “You can’t search the directories with nothing more than the first name of a minor,” Akanah said, rapping on the landspeeder’s dome with her knuckles. “Would you open this up, please?”

  Luke complied, and they climbed in together. “I know that because I tried, from Carratos, years ago,” she continued as the bubble sealed around them. “It’s impossible without knowing the family names they were using. Are we going to get started, or not?”

  “Started where?”

  “Sodonna, of course.”

  “Revision eighty-nine was more than fifteen years ago. And we don’t know that Norika went with this Trobe Saar, or even if Trobe was part of your circle. Chances are this is going to be another North Five—a disappointment.”

  “No,” she said. “Not this one.”

  “Why are you so sure? An hour ago you thought this was hopeless. And this morning you were sure they would never make their home on Teyr. Why so upbeat all of a sudden?”

  “Because Kell Plath is a Fallanassi name.” She hesitated, then added, “It means ‘held breath’—an allusion to our meditation exercises. Besides,” she said, “what other leads do we have?”

  “You’ve got me there.” Luke fumbled in his pocket for the traveler’s aid card. “All right, where is Sodonna, anyway?”

  The river city of Sodonna was on the far side of Teyr from Griann and the Rift, straddling the Noga River at what traditionally was considered its upstream limit of navigability. Five hundred years earlier, Sodonna had been the gateway to the entire Inner River District, with bustling docks and a job for anyone who wanted it.

  Repulsorlift transports had taken the focus of commerce away from the river, and in large part from Sodonna as well. The docks were gone, and the Noga River now tumbled through the city as an elaborate water sculpture of falls, rapids, ponds, and fountains. Sodonna was the smallest Teyr city with a spaceport, and the terminus of the single-track River District spur of the Rift Skyway.

  Luke followed the Harvest Flyway to Turos Noth, paying a hefty premium for dropping the bubbleback at the Skyrail station there. As night closed in, he and Akanah boarded a westbound railtrain and found seats in the single car that was programmed to separate from the rest and follow the spur to Sodonna.

  But that intersection was hours away in the darkness. At Luke’s urging, Akanah napped. She was not the only one in the nearly full cabin to do so. The ride was smooth, with just a slight and soothing side-to-side sway, the cabin lights were dimmed to unobtrusiveness, and the individual self-adjusting tour couches cradled them comfortably.

  Luke did not dare sleep. Only his consciousness could hold the Li Stonn mask in place—there were suggestions in the old records of great Jedi Masters who could cast illusions even when sleeping, but neither Luke nor any Jedi he knew had attained that level of facility with the Force skill known as alter. And Luke could not risk dropping his mask in public—even if he were not recognized as himself, shape-shifters and mentalists were so widely assumed to be thieves, spies, and brigands that he could expect nearly as much commotion.

  So he sat up awake, watching over Akanah, listening to whispered conversations, gently sensing the energies of those around him, looking out into the night as distant lights betrayed their swift passage and the cities along their route embraced the railtrain with their restless energy and then surrendered it back to the darkness.

  He wondered if somewhere out in that darkness the woman Akanah had known as Nashira was asleep as well, peacefully or restlessly, tranquilly or fearfully. What would my mother think of me? he wondered, and it was the first time such a thought had ever confronted him.

  The thought perplexed and distracted him. He recalled Akanah’s words on the night she had appeared: “The gift of the Light came from your mother—and your mother was of our people. There is an emptiness inside you where memories of your mother should be, a weakness where what she would have taught you would have strengthened you.” Presumptuous words, but knowing words. In that moment, he felt that emptiness acutely, unable even to imagine what might fill it, or even that it might ever be filled.

  Perhaps Nashira has stayed away because she’s ashamed, Luke thought. Perhaps she sees too much of Father in us, just as this woman does. You may have been right, Leia. If I do find the truth, I may not find it to my liking—

  Then Luke’s sense skill tugged at his consciousness, calling his attention to a change in his surroundings. Clearing all other thoughts from his mind, he swept his awareness and his gaze together across the darkened railtrain. Both quickly fixed on the same point—an Elomin passenger, sitting near the front of the car on the opposite side. The Elomin’s back was turned toward Luke, his horned skull-crown just visible over the top cushion of his tour couch.

  Now, where did you come from? Luke thought, intent with suspicion. You weren’t there ten minutes ago—how could I have missed you coming in? Something doesn’t feel right about this—

  He stole a quick look at Akanah, reassuring himself that she was sleeping blissfully. He wondered how badly his attention had wandered, whether he had let his mask slip.

  Everything I know about you says that this isn’treally your sort of vacation spot, he thought, staring at the back of the Elomin’s couch. Even if the Teyria share your fetish for order, they keep letting in all these unpredictable alien types. And I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve seen a solitary Elomin out in mixed company. Two of you in one day—or the same one twice—

  This feels like more than a coincidence. What I can’t figure out is what would make an Elomin go rogue and hook up with Imperial agents—or why someone else might be interested in us. And
I just may have to have a few answers—

  Just then the Elomin left his seat and moved forward with slow, long-limbed strides. He was empty-handed, as the Elomin at the spaceport had been. At the end of the aisle he paused for a moment and looked back into the cabin. Then, ducking his head, he passed through the connecting doorway and was gone. Luke waited, torn between wanting to follow and not wanting to leave Akanah.

  The Elomin had still not returned when the porter droid made an appearance, trundling down the aisle reciting a soft-spoken warning. “Attention, passengers. If you are not continuing to River District Spur destinations, please move into one of the forward cabins. This car will be separating from the train at Podadun. Attention, passengers—”

  Still the Elomin did not return. As the chime sounded and the status light above the connecting door changed to yellow, Luke reached out with his senses and searched the train for the Elomin. But Luke could not find him. Fearing a bomb, he rushed forward to where the Elomin had been sitting.

  Luke stared. There were no bags or articles there—just a sleeping Gotal infant.

  The chime sounded again. Luke looked up as the connecting doors slid shut and the status light turned red. There was an almost imperceptible deceleration as the cars separated and the lights of Podadun began to flash through the unfiltered viewpanes.

  The infant stirred in its sleep, and Luke retreated. What is wrong with me? he demanded silently as he made his way back to his seat, the aisle tilting under him as the car swung off the main line and onto the banked spur to Sodonna. Why am I jumping at shadows?

  Akanah had slept through it all, oblivious. When she finally woke to the spectacular salmon-and-pink sunrise warming her face, Luke said nothing to her about it. He didn’t know what he could have said, except that he had had another waking dream and still didn’t know its meaning.

  The name Kell Plath no longer appeared in the Sodonna directories, but not because Teyr’s winds had ripped it from the map or because the name had become burdened by shame. An hour at the city library uncovered not only its location, but also the petition under which its new owners had asked for the more marketable name of River Gardens.

  Kell Plath had been a commonal—a walled and gated space enclosing a group of small residences surrounding a common green space. The design was popular in Sodonna. Standing in front of the gate to River Gardens, Luke and Akanah could see more than a dozen other commonals along the road winding along the high bank above the river.

  According to the traveler’s aid card, the commonal was a piece of the region’s history, as well—a reminder of rougher days when the walls and gates protected unmated children and other valuables from the less refined types who came to Sodonna to work the docks.

  As a matter of form, Luke and Akanah approached the security droid at the gate and asked after Trobe Saar, Norika, and the other children. In each case, the answer was the same: “I am unable to identify the resident requested.”

  “I’m interested in purchasing a share in River Gardens,” Luke said, trying another tack. “Who could arrange a tour of the facilities for us?”

  “No shares are currently available for purchase,” the security droid said. “When shares become available, they will be listed with Indal Properties of Sodonna.”

  Akanah stepped forward. “I’m researching the history of commonals for Teyr Tours subscribers,” she said. “I’d like to know more about the history of this site—is the property manager available to talk to me for a few minutes?”

  Directed for a second time to Indal Properties, they retreated to the other side of the street to regroup.

  “So much for the front door,” Luke said with a sigh. “I hate trying to wiggle past a security droid. They’re too dumb to deceive and too single-minded to finesse.”

  “We have to get inside.”

  “They’re not there—you know that. They’ve been gone for fifteen years.”

  “But they were here,” she said. “And the way will be marked.”

  Luke looked back over his shoulder. “You don’t think they were considerate enough to leave their mark on the outside of the commonal, do you?”

  The wall of the commonal was three meters high and slippery smooth, curving slightly outward and topped with a line of sharp-edged fracturestone that was both decorative and functional.

  “I can vault this,” Luke said. “It isn’t a problem.”

  “It is for me.”

  “I can get us both over.”

  “Give me a chance to read here first.”

  She moved down the wall at her own pace, trailing her fingertips along the surface. Luke followed a few steps behind, trying to sense the interaction between her and the wall, to understand what opening she was looking through in search of the Fallanassi scribing.

  When they rounded the third corner, Akanah cried out in surprise and fell back a step. With two quick strides, Luke was beside her. It was then that he saw the security droid blocking her way.

  “This is your only warning,” the droid said. “You are loitering on private property. Your likeness has been recorded. Your suspicious behavior has been documented. Remove yourself from this vicinity immediately. If you do not, you will be detained, and a complaint will be made against you. If you return to this vicinity, a complaint will be made against you. This message constitutes a lawful and sufficient notice under Article Eighteen of the Criminal Statutes of the Sodonna Syndic.”

  Akanah opened her mouth to protest, but Luke knew better than to argue. “We’re leaving,” he said, pulling her along by the arm.

  Unswayed by the promise, the droid followed them back to their landspeeder and waited until they moved off to return to its post by the gate.

  “Have I mentioned that I hate security droids?” Luke grumbled. “How are you going to check the other side and a half now? Did you find anything?”

  “There was writing by the front gate,” Akanah said. “It marked this place as Kell Plath.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all. What we need is inside.” She looked back to see if they were out of sight of the gate at River Gardens. “Stop here.”

  “Why?”

  “I have to go back.”

  “And do what?”

  “What I did the night we met,” she said. “Or have you forgotten?”

  “I haven’t forgotten that you never explained how you got into the sanctuary without me sensing you.”

  “Are you going to stop?”

  Frowning, Luke brought the landspeeder to an abrupt halt.

  “Thank you,” she said, and tipped open her door.

  “You’re not going to explain?”

  “No, I do not intend to explain.”

  “Wait—” he said. “What can I do?”

  “I do not expect to need anyone killed,” she said, clambering out. “Do what you just said—wait. And try not to attract the suspicions of any droids in this neighborhood. Our ship is halfway around the planet, and it might be difficult to get back to it if we’re criminal fugitives.”

  He stared after her as she strode back down the street, wondering how many different women he was traveling with, and whether he would ever learn all their stories.

  Twenty minutes later, Luke felt Akanah approaching.

  “Let’s go,” she said as she climbed in.

  “Did you get inside?”

  “Let’s go,” she repeated insistently.

  Luke looked back along the street. “Is someone following you?”

  “I got inside. No one is following me—yet. Now, can we go?”

  The landspeeder surged forward. “And?”

  “I found it,” she said. “We’re done here.”

  “Are you going to tell me this time?”

  “When we’re away from here, and I know it’s safe.”

  “So it’s not me you don’t trust.”

  “These things are never to be spoken to one who cannot read them,” Akanah said. “To tell you at a
ll violates an oath. To tell you now, here, when there are so many ways a secret can escape, compounds that offense with needless risk.”

  Luke frowned. “Is there any reason we can’t return by Skyrail?”

  “No,” she said, looking out her side viewpane. “I wasn’t seen.”

  She seemed determined not to talk, but there were things Luke needed to say before they reached the terminal.

  “You weren’t the only one who was successful,” he said. “I turned up some information, too. And I’ll even tell you now.”

  “Please don’t. Whatever it is, it will keep,” she said. “All that matters now is to get away from here.”

  “Knowing where we’re going next matters a tiny bit,” Luke said. “I got curious about how your friends left.”

  “It’s of no consequence. We leave no trail that an outsider can follow.”

  “You may think so,” Luke said. “But I found out some interesting things, all the same. Like the reason they sold the commonal.”

  She looked at him disdainfully. “That’s no mystery—to buy passage. They had no more use for it except for any value they could take with them.”

  “Akanah, they bought a starship.” Luke waggled the traveler’s aid card. “Can’t judge things by their size. In addition to the maps, the food guides, the attraction lists, and the ads, this has a wireless link to the Teyr Commerce Bureau and an information hotline. Your friends may be long gone, but there’s still a corporation registered here called Kell Plath. And it owns a starship named Star Morning.”

  “It must have taken everything they had,” Akanah said.

  “And a little more,” Luke said. “Star Morning is a Koqus liner—the better part of fifty years old, mind you, and too small to compete with the big Expo ships, but still no small purchase.”

  “How many could it carry?”

  “A Koqus? Maybe sixty, depending on the cargo allocation.”

  Akanah nodded. “That would be enough.”

  “You don’t seem overly surprised by this,” Luke said, raising an eyebrow. “I was. I thought we were trying to track down refugees, not stockholders.”