Chain of Secrets

by Jaleta Clegg

  "Viya Station," the man said, "please respond. Is anyone there?"

  "Who are they?" Lowell asked.

  "They've been calling for the last twenty minutes," Cartrane said. "We can't get a fix on their ship id. It's big, at least a cruiser, and armed. We got that much before the antenna died again."

  "They aren't Patrol," Hector volunteered.

  "They aren't syndicate," Lowell said, frowning at the man on the screen. He knew the man, he'd met him. But where?

  "Viya Station," the man said again. "We can offer assistance. Please respond."

  "Connect it," Lowell told the scan tech. He pretended not to notice when she looked to Cartrane for confirmation.

  "Are you sure about this?" Cartrane demanded of Lowell.

  "I know that man," Lowell said. "They're offering help."

  "Can we trust them?"

  "Can you afford not to?"

  "Connect it," Cartrane told the tech. "You do the talking," he told Lowell. "We're watching everything you say."

  The screen fuzzed momentarily.

  "Viya Station? Are you there?" the man asked again.

  "We're here," Lowell said. "Who are you?"

  The man grinned into his screen. "I'll be toasted and dipped in mustard. If it isn't Grant Lowell himself." He paused, his grin growing wider. "You don't remember me? I was sure Tayvis would tell you I was on my way to talk to you. Isn't that why you're still at Viya?"

  Lowell stared at the man's face. Who was he? His mind refused to make the right connections that would tell him who this man was and why he was coming here. And how was Tayvis connected to this?

  "We only met briefly," the man continued. "At least ten years ago. I'm not surprised you don't remember. The name is Willet Smythe. I represent the Federation."

  The room erupted in whispers. Lowell couldn't tell if they were shocked, scared, hopeful or all three. Willet Smythe, aka Will Scarlet, watched and waited on the com screen.

  "The Federation?" Lowell asked, buying time more than anything. Willet Smythe was of the Hrissia'noru, last Lowell knew. But he hadn't heard from them for quite some time himself, not since they'd ordered him to use Dace to find the lost ones suspected to be on Tivor.

  "We are here to offer you assistance," Will said. "It appears you need it. We can have men on your station within the hour. What supplies do you need?"

  "Why are you helping us?" Cartrane shoved his way to the screen. "You just shot us up. You think we'll trust you now? You had this all planned."

  Will lifted one eyebrow. "The Federation is not in the business of destroying civilian stations. We were already on our way here. Finding your station in this condition was a bit of a shock. We're surprised anyone managed to survive."

  There was silence in the room while they thought over his speech. Lowell glanced at Cartrane.

  "You can trust him," Lowell said. "He wouldn't be involved in something like the attack."

  Cartrane glared at Lowell. He finally relented. "If this is a trick, you're going to pay for it. With them."

  "No tricks, Stationmaster," Will assured them. "What supplies do you require?"

  "Your assistance will be appreciated," Lowell spoke for the others.

  "We've got power restored to level sixteen on deck eight," one of the techs volunteered. "We're waiting for the atmosphere generator to bring the air back up to normal. The reserves are almost gone, though."

  "We could use more conduit wiring," another put in.

  "We'll have shuttles there within the hour," Will said. "And Lowell," he waited until Lowell looked back at the screen, "you aren't going to dodge meeting me this time."

  The com screen went blank. The techs hurried away, intent on their repairs.

  "You aren't going to tell me how you know him, are you," Cartrane said to Lowell.

  "It's complicated. And I'm not quite sure how it all fits myself."

  "Why is the Federation coming here?"

  "My guess is because the Empire pulled the Patrol out. Most of the Sector has already joined the Federation. I suspect Will is here to offer you membership."

  Cartrane said nothing. He stared unseeing at the blank monitor, thinking hard. "It will have to be by vote," he said finally. "I won't speak for the others unless they agree."

  Three hours later, Lowell's guesses were confirmed. Willet Smythe was there to offer them more than help rebuilding the station. He was there to offer them citizenship in the Federation and protection from more attacks.

  The vote was unanimous. Viya Station was no longer loyal to the Emperor who had abandoned them. The Patrol still on station were more than happy to switch allegiance. All except Lowell. He politely declined.

  "You'll regret this someday," Will told Lowell later. They were in a small conference room on the one deck that still held air. The others had left, busy rebuilding their lives.

  "Probably," Lowell answered. He studied the younger man with the honest face and mischievous grin. "Tayvis said he would have died on Trythia if you hadn't found him."

  "He would have survived, one way or another," Will said as he gathered his papers together. "He's almost as good as Dace at surviving. He was a little upset over you leaving him behind on Trythia, though."

  "I'd been informed he was dead." The words fell heavy in the quiet room. "I had no reason to doubt. Not then."

  "You do now?" Will asked.

  "Something's rotten, and it isn't at the bottom of the pile. If my suspicions are correct it's hard to go much higher."

  "If you ever decide the Empire has used you long enough, the Federation will be happy to welcome you."

  "Because I can tell you all the Emperor's dirty secrets?"

  "Only if you want to share," Will said as he stood. "We would value your experience. Roland would like to meet you. Just to talk. I think you'd like him."

  Lowell said nothing to that comment.

  "Think it over," Will said.

  "I still work for the Patrol," Lowell said.

  "So do a lot of other people on this station."

  Lowell shook his head. "I accepted their resignations yesterday. And Hector's this morning."

  "Tayvis was right," Will said after a long pause. "You are an odd one."

  "I'll remember you said that."

  Will laughed as he walked out of the room.

  Lowell stared at the blank wall across from him. He was ready to resign, why not do it now? Because Dace was still out there and he couldn't walk out on his people. Not yet. Not without warning.

  He sighed and wished his life were as easy as that of Tomris, the stinky little brother. It would be nice to have a Madilene and her band of trusty handmaidens ride to his rescue.

  Chapter 39

  It was raining again. The weather had turned slightly warmer but a lot wetter. Spring was coming to Tivor. I pretended the rain didn't bother me. It didn't take much. I was wet and miserable but that was nothing compared to the storm inside my head.

  Scholar spent half the night with me, trying to teach me how to build a shield to keep out other people's thoughts. I could screen those out, mostly, it was the emotions that drove me crazy. The same technique had no effect on empathic power.

  It was one reason I huddled in an alley in the rain by myself. Rian, once she realized what I'd become, sent me out with Paltronis. We were supposed to sneak into the government building and find somewhere to hide. And then I was supposed to drop all shields as the last of the drugs wore off. I think Rian believed I'd drive the government leaders insane. I'd come close with some of her guards. I don't think she even considered what price I'd pay. One life for many, or so she believed. I was only another tool for her to use.

  Paltronis dropped down beside me. "Dead end," she whispered. "We'll have to try the next alley."

  "They're all dead ends," I answered. "Did you for one second believe that Rian wants us to survive this?"

  She answered by squeezing my wrist. "You can do this, Dace. You're stronger than you think."
r />   "That's the problem," I answered. "I can feel every emotion, even here."

  "Then trust me." She held my hands until I looked at her. Her face, usually an inscrutable mask, was open, every emotion and thought plain to read. Even without empathic power.

  I met her eyes, falling into their calm grayness. She wrapped my thoughts with her own. In the process of saving me from my own mind, she left her own open. I saw what she felt for Tayvis. I saw her relationship with Lowell. And I saw myself reflected through her perceptions. She saw me as strong, capable, but maddeningly insecure. She believed in me. My shell of pain and grief and depression shattered under her image of me.

  She dropped my hands, turning away. That kind of honesty can be brutal. It can also heal.

  "There's a basement to this place," I said, standing up, filled with a new sense of purpose. Even if I went mad or died, Paltronis deserved better. She was sent here because of me, she wouldn't die here with me if I could help it. "Maybe if we tried the storm drains."

  She didn't answer. She moved to the nearest grating and heaved it open.

  I climbed first into the dank, smelly, wet tunnel. I landed in ankle deep water. I splashed a few feet away, waiting for Paltronis to join me. She landed with less of a splash but more of a grimace.

  "I hate water," she muttered. "What are we looking for?"

  "Gratings," I said. "When they were torturing me—"

  "Again?"

  "Worse than most." I shuddered and wished I could forget that night under Kuran's ministrations. But the very thing that made it so awful was the thing that would save us, or so I hoped. The drug they'd given me to heighten my pain had also heightened the rest of my senses. I had been hyperaware of everything in that cell, the cold, the stone texture of the walls and floor, and the grates along the bottom of one wall. The sound of trickling water had burned in my ears.

  "There should be grates that will lead us into the basement," I said.

  Paltronis nodded. I started away. She stopped me with her hand on my shoulder. The touch was electric.

  "Can you damp the emotions?" she asked. "At least until we're in position."

  "I don't know how."

  She hesitated, studying me. "I hate doing this, but the drugs do help. At least with that. I hate what they do to your sunny personality."

  I smiled. It had been so long since I'd honestly smiled it felt strange. "Sunny?"

  She blinked and looked down to where her fingers fumbled with her pocket. "I've got one pill of the stuff Tilyn used on you. He smuggled some to Rian. She only gave me one."

  I held out my hand wordlessly. Maybe it was the drug that made me so bleak. Or maybe it was just that my life really was horrible. But Paltronis had given me hope, however slender. That glimpse of how she saw me touched me deeply. She believed in me. The least I could do was believe in myself, too.

  She dropped the tiny tablet in my hand. I swallowed it, though it felt huge in my throat. It worked quickly. I felt the darkness inside rising again.

  Paltronis moved ahead, her feet barely splashing in the fast moving rain water that washed over our feet. I walked behind her, watching the walls.

  We found the grates. They were chest high in the wall, solid grills of woven metal. Paltronis stopped in front of one, peering into the room beyond.

  "Some kind of pump room, I'd guess," she said, squinting through the metal mesh. "These must be for drainage." She stuck her fingers through the mesh and jerked. The grate squealed but held. She pulled again. The grate refused to budge. She shook her head, wincing as she rubbed her fingers. "They're cemented in pretty solidly."

  I closed my eyes, trying to remember the room I'd been tortured in, not what had happened there. I wasn't too successful.

  "We can go back out and try walking in the front door," Paltronis suggested.

  "They'll arrest us on sight."

  "It wouldn't change what we're going to do."

  It would get us both killed. Paltronis deserved at least a fighting chance of survival. "The other grates, the ones in the room, are held in with screws."

  "And you think we can get them open." She shrugged and splashed away, farther down the tunnel.

  I waded after her. The rainwater dripped into the tunnels, cold and dank. We rounded a corner. The tunnel narrowed, the roof dropping as the drain led under the government building. A stream of water poured through the narrower pipe.

  Paltronis stopped next to the grates in the wall. Water splashed over them. A thick coating of rust stained the grate and the wall under it. Paltronis threaded her fingers into the grate and yanked. It came free in a shower of rust. The noise was deafening.

  "Who's there?" The voice came from the dark room beyond.

  Paltronis muttered under her breath. We didn't want to be discovered yet. We both backed away. Paltronis dropped the grate into the water.

  "We can try back the other way," she whispered.

  "Please, help me," the voice came again. It was cracked, pleading with us.

  I started back for the hole. Paltronis stopped me.

  "It might be a trap."

  "And it might not."

  She studied me for a long moment while water dripped past us and the voice called again.

  "And if he's locked in a room? What good will that do us?"

  "They didn't lock me in," I said. "They left me tied up to a chair. I think it's standard procedure." Her grip tightened on my arm. "Will it hurt to look?"

  "I'm going in," she insisted. She pushed me to one side.

  I waited, my feet cold and wet and numb, water splashing on my back, while she wriggled through the tiny opening.

  I strained to hear something more than the constant dripping tinkle of water. I shivered, moving away from the splash of water on my back. The drug whispered to the darkness in my head telling me that Paltronis had abandoned me. I clung to the shreds of my hope and denied it.

  Her head came back out a moment later. "Come on," she whispered. She backed away, holding her hand out to help me through the hole. I slid in far easier than she had. I was a lot smaller.

  The room was a twin to the one I'd been imprisoned in. It might have been the same one. I didn't want to look close enough to make sure. A man hunched near the single door to the room. His clothes were torn and filthy. Dried blood spattered his hair and the front of his shirt. He glanced up at me. They'd ruined his face. I swallowed hard, glad they'd only kept me one night.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "Atera, Citizen of the Inner Congress," the man mumbled through split lips. "Kuran decided I was a traitor. I should kill him."

  He moved much faster than his appearance suggested. He was out the door and gone before we could stop him. Paltronis slammed her fist against the stone wall.

  "We've got to move before he causes too much trouble," she said.

  "He'll just add that much more confusion." I stepped out into the hall.

  "Dace," Paltronis tried to stop me.

  I shrugged off her hand. "We should go up to the main floors and hide somewhere there."

  We walked down the hallway. When we reached the foot of the utilitarian stairs, we heard the shouting above.

  Paltronis shoved me behind her. She crept up the stairs, alert and ready for trouble. I followed her like a ghost, drifting silently at her heels. The drugs were already fading away. I could feel the maelstrom of thoughts above us. Waves of emotions washed around and through me. It wouldn't take much to send everyone into a frenzied madness.

  I didn't realize I'd stopped until Paltronis took my arm and pulled me after her. I felt as if I were shredding, like a cloud in a stiff wind. My own mind and emotions tangled with all of the others seething through the building. The hand on my arm, tight as a force cuff, was the only contact that felt real. I was dimly aware of Paltronis, hidden behind her shields.

  I went where she pushed me, only partly aware of physical space. I fought for control of my own mind. I tried to build the shields Scholar had s
howed me. I couldn't. There were too many emotions, too much energy.

  "In here," Paltronis said.

  She pulled me into a shadowed corner, a hidden alcove under the stairs. Feet pounded over our heads. Shouts echoed through the elaborate marbled halls.

  I fought to retain control. I was slipping fast into the chaotic swirl of emotion and thought.

  "Dace." Paltronis sounded far away, as if she were at the top of an engine shaft and I was at the very bottom. A big engine shaft.

  Panic flared. I had to get out, before the engine came on line. But I couldn't move. I was in a waking nightmare. I felt violence and anger in the air. It combined with my panic, twisting and weaving together into a mental fabric of madness.

  My control broke. The emotions and energy poured out of me in an almost tangible wave. I felt sudden terror from those whose minds had no shields as I swept sanity away from them. They were caught up in my madness, dragged into a jagged perception of the world, skewed and warped by my emotions.

  Mind after mind twisted in with my own. Thoughts were incoherent, fed by an ever growing pool of insanity. Screams, mental and verbal, shattered around me. Reality twisted in bizarre directions.

  Through it all, through the madness, I was dimly aware of hands holding mine, a tentative anchor. I felt Paltronis' mind, a rock untouched by the swirling chaos. I clung to the hope that she would survive and bring me back with her.

  Time must have passed, I had no idea how much. It could have been days, or seconds. My mind was shattered, pieces scattered through other minds, shattering them further with my touch. Panic and confusion poured into me. I amplified it and rebroadcast it. I don't know how I did any of it. None was deliberate. I was truly going mad, as the Tevalis'noru had predicted. I needed them, their mental shield and support and the web of their minds keeping my own intact. But they'd abandoned me, dumped me on Paltronis and left. They knew I'd go mad.

  At least my madness would prove useful. I could bring down Kuran with it. I tried not to think of the innocent minds I destroyed.

  I tried to protect the calm that was Paltronis. With the last vestiges of sanity, I built my own bubble around her shields.

  And then I lost all contact with reality. I was shards, fragments of mind and thought and emotion, disjointed, scattered. I had no idea which body was mine, which mind, which thought, which emotion. I was tenuous, pulled in a million directions at once.