Mourner

by Irene Radford

  “Laudae Penelope is extremely busy implementing the changes in public education you dictated,” Laud Andrew said. He always sounded as if the whining words came out his nose. “We thought to relieve her of some responsibility.” He moved easily to the podium, standing tall and proud behind it. Then he took up the wand and tapped the smallest of the crystals. A delicate chime echoed around the high, stained glass dome above them.

  Sissy stood with her back pressed against the door, her hands behind her to still their shaking. She had never belonged here. She never would.

  And she didn’t know what to do.

  Jake, help me. He’d stood behind her, guarding her, whispering advice in her ear for months. And now he was thousands of light years away. She was on her own.

  What would Jake say she should do?

  She had no idea.

  Then Lukan stood, before Andrew could intone the ritual phrases calling them to a state of reverence and awe of Harmony, her Consort Empathy and their children Nurture and Unity, along with their stepchildren, Greed, Anger, and Chaos, all in balance against Discord. Without a word Lukan shoved Sissy’s chair back so that the wooden legs scraped against the slate floor.

  Andrew closed his mouth with a snap at the interruption.

  Lukan turned his back on the usurping priest and took a stand beside Sissy. Three of the five Nobles followed his example.

  “Open the door and march out,” Daniel whispered, waving his cane at the barrier.

  “What?”

  “Count heads. You’ve got four votes. He’s got three. And High Priestess can veto any decision.” Lukan flipped the latch and shoved Sissy out of the formal Council Chambers. “I have my people asking questions with Military backing. We’ll find out who is behind the desecration of Gregor’s remains.”

  “What about the desecration of our culture and government?” Penny asked, taking Gil’s arm.

  “We reconvene in my office,” Sissy said quietly so that only her allies heard.

  “She’s coming back,” Martha whispered to Mary. She struggled to roll off the bed. The confused noise pounded into her head again, louder. That meant closer. Smaller numbers. Laudae Sissy returned with part of the High Council and senior clergy. Not all of them.

  The loudest and angriest of the rest of the senior clergy and the High Council remained . . . elsewhere. She couldn’t tell where, just that they were distant and together. Plotting?

  “We can’t settle this until we find Laud Gregor’s body, or a way to declare him dead another way,” Sissy said in the outer room. “Once we bury him properly, we can elect a new High Priest.”

  “My people are rooting out the corpse thief. Once we persuade him—or her—to admit to stealing a dead body, we can declare Laud Gregor dead and hold both a funeral and an empire wide Grief Blessing, then Temple can legally elect a new HP. You, my Laudae can call for a Caste-wide election, outnumbering your enemies here at Crystal Temple,” Lord Lukan said.

  Or you can appoint a new HP as Gregor appointed you, though I doubt you’ll get Caste approval, Guilliam thought. His mind sounded so firm in Martha’s mind, he could have spoken the words aloud.

  “I’d like to ordain Mr. Guilliam and elevate him,” Sissy said.

  Martha heard the senior acolyte of the HP inwardly wince his dismay. His thoughts became confused, then ordered themselves into rebellion. “I am more useful running the Temple than presiding over it!”

  “We’ll see about that. You have trained your assistants well. I expect you to study for the ordination exams while you search out the missing Covenant Stones. I will return to the First Contact Café and search out our missing HP.”

  “I wrote the damn examination. Why should I study for it?” Mr. Guilliam grumbled.

  Hope sprang to life in Martha’s heart. If they returned to the space station to trace the crime, then maybe she could stay there forever and not face execution every time she overheard something she wasn’t supposed to—like where to find the missing Covenant Stones.

  Martha knew she needed to speak to Mr. Guilliam about that soon.

  Why were they missing? Who would dare hide them when Sissy, HPs of the entire Harmony Empire had expressly ordered them on permanent display?

  “I have to go back to the First Contact Café,” Sissy announced.

  Martha shared the love and warmth Sissy felt for Jake. They all needed to return to the space station. Their true home. But first . . .

  “Mary, gather the girls, as you did on the station. We need you to go listen to everyone in the Crystal Temple. Everyone from Laud Andrew down to the man who takes out the trash.”

  “I hate bookkeeping,” Jake grumbled as a line of numbers on the spreadsheet highlighted. Across the conference table Barbara Yankowitz, a scrawny young female accountant of mixed racial heritage, squinted at her own screen as she dragged a stylus around to show him various items. She looked as if she needed corrective vision treatments but hadn’t found time. Her skinny frame suggested she rarely took the time to eat.

  “Numbers are fascinating,” she said, highlighting another line. “I found these entries in the archives from when the Labyrinthe Corporation owned the station. They clearly indicate payment back to the parent corporation. The low numbers suggest a rent or license fee rather than a mortgage. It appears to be a percentage of the quarterly gross income—which has been clumsily adjusted downward to disguise the actual amount due.”

  “You can tell that just from looking at the numbers?” It made no sense to Jake. Payment in, payment out, leaving a balance for emergencies he understood. These percentages and alterations he’d never have found.

  “These files were hidden in a closed archive,” said Captain Ambrose Zachariah, the station’s lawyer from the CSS, fiddling with his own stylus. “I have informed Labyrinthe Prime that we have legal need to examine them even though they do not pertain to the day to day operations of the station. I’d feel more comfortable if we waited until Labyrinthe Prime has a chance to respond,” he droned the necessary legal phrases.

  “You had to send written notice, you couldn’t just call?” Three weeks versus thirty second delay.

  “There is a protocol . . .”

  “And we are out of time.” Jake looked back to his portable screen with the lists of files, all named in some arcane code that meant something to accountant Yankowitz but not to him.

  His screen blurred and a new alphanumeric string appeared. The date beside it showed clearly as today, thirty seconds ago in standard ship’s language, the way Mara named files.

  Then the screen blurred, the file name faded and reappeared with a date going back seven years, to the beginning of construction of the station.

  “Hey, what’s that?” Jake highlighted the file so the others could see it on their own screens.

  Zachariah opened the file. “It appears to be the mortgage agreement, written in three distinct languages, including Earth Standard.”

  “The other two languages are Dragon and Labyrinthian, I bet,” Jake muttered.

  “Why would the two parties agreeing on the mortgage bother including Earth Standard in the document?” Yankowitz asked. “Neither party had business dealings with us at that time. We had no access to this station until Harmony demanded a neutral meeting ground.”

  “Good question,” Jake said. He told them about the sudden insertion of the file and the date change.

  “What are the Dragons up to?” Yankowitz asked.

  Her eyes lost focus and then snapped back to the screen. She began typing rapid instructions.

  Jake’s screen flipped and changed and new strings of numbers and codes flashed by rapidly.

  “The Dragons seek to take over the galaxy by owning all of it,” Jake said and closed his screen.

  “You mean by stealing it?” Zachariah asked. “These documents appear perfectly legal—sneaky and unfair but legal. If you hadn’t watched the file being inserted into the database, we’d have no way of knowing they are faked.”<
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  “So how do we stop them?” Jake asked.

  “Blow up their ship,” Yankowitz said, looking bleak.

  “Stop them without starting a war,” Jake added. “We have no idea where their homeworld is, how many reserves they have, or how well armed they are.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Laudae Sissy, please let me go back to the FCC,” Gil pleaded. “Or Penny and me. We can investigate, ask the right questions of the right people. If you leave now, you only add fuel to Andrew’s campaign to take over Crystal Temple with Maigress as his HPs.”

  Sissy’s office felt crowded with half the High Council, plus extra high ranking Nobles and Temple. And it felt completely empty without Jake standing behind her left shoulder, whispering advice and reassurance.

  You are HPs. You can do anything you deem necessary, popular or not, he’d said time and again. She had to remember it.

  “Spacer Captain Kalek reports that after intense questioning, Spacer Norton did not reveal any cohorts or conspiracy. He didn’t say anything. Then when returned to his cell aboard Star Runner, he escaped. He had to have help. There is a conspiracy. All conspiracies have a leader, someone capable of planning and organizing and recruiting. Let me go to the space station and root out the evil among us,” Gil pleaded.

  Sissy had to think about allowing Gil and Penny to do her work for her at the space station. “No. Mr. Guillium, if Laud Gregor is still legally alive, then you are still his office administrator. Perhaps it is a good thing that you have refused ordination time and again. For now. If you hadn’t, you’d probably have taken a post elsewhere when I need you here running the Temple. That is a very powerful position. You are known and familiar. No one expects you to be anything but the bland civil servant who takes orders. But you also know everything that happens in the Temple, even private meetings and conspiracies. You can manipulate the paperwork and timing of carrying out of orders. I trust you to control this not so subtle coup d’etat.” That was a concept Jake had taught her. “When we have finally and legally buried Laud Gregor, then I will allow you the priestly assignment of your choice.”

  Discord! She wished Jake were here to help.

  Her chest tightened and breathing became an effort. Little Bella appeared out of nowhere and handed her an inhaler. That was Mary’s job. If not Mary, then Martha.

  One quick depression sent drugs through her system, brightening her vision and clearing the muddle out of her brain. “Tell Mary and Martha that I will be with them shortly,” she said politely to Bella as she returned the inhaler to her. She really wanted to keep the medication, wrap her hands around it and know that it was close, as close as she needed Jake to be.

  “She’s right, Gil,” Penelope said, taking his arm possessively. “Between the two of us, we control a lot of what goes on here, and we have better access to the population. We can keep Sissy’s face and voice before the public better than she can. Or will, if left on her own.” A general chuckle of agreement circled the room.

  “Laud Gregor’s body was lost while in my custody,” Sissy mused. “I am responsible for finding it again, or finding out what happened and who betrayed everything we hold dear by such a horrible deed.” Decision made, she stood straighter and speared each of the clergy with her gaze.

  “We trust you to succeed, where we cannot,” Laudae Bethany said, bowing respectfully. The others followed suit.

  “Very well, then. Gil, please arrange transport and collate reports from Star Runner. Laud Rabor, will you and Laudae Bethany please prepare a regretful statement for me to read by way of the media. Don’t say too much, just that a crisis in the diplomatic delegation at the First Contact Café requires my immediate and personal attention. You might hint, and hint only, that the Military are alert and watchful and their requests take priority.”

  “That should take away some of Andrew’s thunder.” Laudae Talya snorted.

  “What about Lord Lukan?” Laud James asked.

  Sissy groaned inwardly. The stimulation of the drugs had worn off, leaving her limp and wanting desperately to sink into her bed with Monster and Dog on either side of her.

  “As much as I want Lord Lukan’s tolerant and insightful views with me at the First Contact Café, I think he needs to remain here to counter his brother, Lord Bevan, and Laud Andrew’s attempts to coerce the Nobles. I also need him to make certain the Covenant Stones are safe, and stay that way. You are looking for them, aren’t you?”

  Guilliam nodded. “I have the right people asking discreet questions. And I’ve arranged for Little Johnny’s photos of the stones to be enlarged and multiplied, copies sent to every temple in the empire again. The people will know how they read and protest any changes coming from Laud Andrew and Laudae Maigress.”

  “Is there someone other than Lord Lukan we can send with you to control Lady Jancee?” Penelope asked. She twisted her fingers together in agitation. “You know how she thinks everyone beneath her must follow her orders, no matter how extreme, or lose their heads. She has her son Garrin cowed so low he can’t breathe without her permission.”

  “I do not know the nobility well enough to know who to ask for,” Sissy admitted.

  “Let me place a few calls,” Talya said. She bowed and left, doing some sort of mental tally with her fingers.

  The others followed, resolute in their errands. The moment the door closed on Gil’s heels, Sissy darted into the dormitory for her girls. Mary and Martha sat together on Martha’s bunk, backs against the wall, feet swinging off the side of the bed.

  “With or without you, we are returning to First Contact Café and Jake,” Mary announced.

  “Excellent, because I hadn’t planned to go without you. Good thing we haven’t had time to unpack yet.” Sissy didn’t like the conspiratorial look passing between her two senior acolytes. She had too much to do before leaving again, beginning with a shower with real water and several loads of laundry. She always thought better and breathed easier when she felt clean. Truly clean. Something vibrational cleansing on a space station with rationed water couldn’t achieve.

  “Oh, and you might want to send someone you trust to the Funeral Caves,” Martha said quietly, barely above hearing level.

  “What?”

  “Mr. Ric, Laud Andrew’s senior acolyte, supervised loading the Covenant Stones onto a loxen cart in the middle of the night, right after Laud Gregor left here to join you at the space station,” Mary continued. “Laud Andrew couldn’t figure out how to repeat the ritual to open the vault beneath the High Altar.”

  “Laud Andrew has enough faith that he couldn’t bring himself to have the stones destroyed. But he’s selfish and greedy enough to know they are a danger to his plans. This whole debacle is more about power than faith.” Martha took over the narration. “Laudae Maigress wants to return to the newest version of the covenant, the one that grants the most power to Noble and Temple. The one that puts them above the law and abolishes marriage among Temple.”

  Sissy stared at them, mouth agape. “How did you learn this?”

  “General Jake trained us well,” the girls said in unison.

  “On days like this I wish I’d never aimed above lieutenant, happy to fly my little fighter where other people decided I needed to be,” Jake moaned as he tugged at the tight collar of his Class A uniform. When he finally got this station and himself out from under the thumb of the Confederated Star Systems, the first thing he’d do would be to change the uniforms.

  Mara, standing on his right in the passenger bay of Wing 27B, like any good second in command, already wore a neutral gray tunic and trousers. Maroon piping down the side of the leg and around her collarless neckline made this uniform slightly dressier than her everyday gray overalls. Three red pips on her shoulder indicated her rank and her recent promotion.

  “You were always too restless and too smart to remain in a fighter squadron.” Pammy snorted from her stance on his left. She wore her Admiral’s uniform, just as stiff and uncomfortable as his
own. She also got to wear foot crippling boots with three inch spike heels. Those put her nearly shoulder to shoulder with his 1.8 meters. She certainly didn’t look like her real job was spymaster—except for her non-standard I-know-something-you-don’t-know shit-eating grin. What set them truly apart was the Badger Metal stars on Jake’s collar. Sissy had given him the priceless gems from her own clerical veil.

  Middle-aged and solemn Ambassador Telvino of the CSS stood a little apart. He wore a normal human business suit. Men’s fashion hadn’t changed much in the last thousand years. The ambassador wore charcoal colored trousers and coat, white shirt, and gray and silver neck piece. He could have stepped out of a fashion magazine.

  The four of them made a nice official reception committee for the elusive Dragons of D’Or. Respectful but not overcrowded. The crowd waited at every view screen on the station, in bars and private quarters. Jake’s officers, some left over from the CSS, others refugees who had joined them as independents, and a few from Harmony who didn’t want to return to Harmony, monitored the incoming ship and the bay from the control wing, part of Jake’s admin cluster at the “top” of the station. Two and a half kilometers away.

  Jake checked the life support monitor on his link. No mercury had leaked from 27C. Yet. Blast doors had failed before. He had crew in full hazmat gear standing by to open and close the blast doors when the dragons needed to come and go from their heavy grav enclave. Doc Halliday had ordered special anti-tox drugs and containment chambers in case something sprang a leak.

  Something was always springing a leak at the First Contact Café. Jake had inherited (confiscated) a hastily thrown together station. His predecessor had used every short cut in construction known, and a few no one had thought of before. He’d operated on less than a shoe-string budget without knowing a thing about management. The job became his because he was the next offspring in line at Labyrinthe Prime.