by Faye, Audrey
Fortune’s Dance
Audrey Faye
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Thank You
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 Audrey Faye
www.audreyfayewrites.com
Dedication
To my girl.
Who knows how to float in the stars.
“There is a place where blood and sweat and joy collide. You’ll know it when you get there.”
Verena Grigori, Prima Ballerina, Malana Zet
1
I caught myself just before I collided with the wall of the small studio. “Imogene Glass, you are crazypants.” Only someone teetering on the brink of mental illness got off a transport ship and took her tired feet straight to a dance floor to see if she could finish breaking them.
That had been an hour ago, and whatever had been driving me then was still going strong.
I sighed and slid my sopping-wet body down the wall, reaching for my water bottle. It wasn’t my feet that had needed this—it was my heart. I sucked down half the water, knowing I wasn’t done dancing yet, and I’d sweat three or four more bottles before I was through. I needed to shake the Etruscan sector off my skin, and this was the best way I knew how to do it.
My feet weren’t all that happy with this plan, but no dancer, Talented or not, listens to her feet. We listen to the music, to the energy, to the vibration, to the need. Or if you’re me and a little kooky, to the threads.
I gulped more water and surveyed the threads I could see in the studio pod that had been my favorite ever since I was a tadpole. Smaller than most, but well lit, and the floor had a bounce that suited me down to the ground—or into the air, whatever my preference might be.
Today I’d mostly been grounding. Judging from the state of the threads I could see, there was more of that in my immediate future. Some of the tiny lines had gone back to the translucent state that was only visible when I dialed my Talent up to high, but some were still pulsing like they hurt, and a couple were tied in the kind of knots that made my toes ache.
And those were just the ones I’d managed to collect on my way from the shuttleport.
I put down the water, not bothering to deny the compulsion pushing me to my feet. This was how I righted my world. Some Fixers Sing—which, bless them, they can do sitting down. Some use plants and oils and jealously guarded, carefully tended herbs, and some commune with the energies in a way that’s woo, even for me.
I’d fallen in tight with one of each, but they weren’t here right now, and I had work to do.
My toes cramped as I put them through some ball-heel rolls. Hopefully, Tee had something stashed in her cupboard of magic I could borrow when I was done. She’s a Grower, one of the best KarmaCorp has ever seen. She can make little plants stand up and kick serious chakric booty. We all adore her, but my feet adore her more than most.
Dancers are supposed to like pain, but I’m pretty fond of mine ending.
I stretched my arms toward the windows to my left and started collecting threads in my fingers. I wasn’t grabbing the snarly ones—not yet. My feet kicked out in some quick turns as I picked up the strands of energy my last twirl through the studio had loosened up.
I’d brought back too much of the hurt in the Etruscan sector, and I wasn’t the only one. Lots of Fixers were stumbling back home from a part of the galaxy that was finally calming down, but had taken bites out of too many of us before it decided to get more reasonable. We’d all carried traces of that back to Stardust Prime, and I was one of the best at cleaning those up and sending them on their way.
I leaned into my sore muscles, feeling them gathering as I moved closer to the ugliest tangle I could see. Time to unsnarl that one before I didn’t have the energy left to accomplish it.
I considered it my job, and my pleasure, to keep the energies of home flowing smoothly. Especially if I was going out on assignment again soon. I liked my comforts while I could get them.
I appreciated ease, and I didn’t apologize for it. I never have, really. I grew up on an inner planet, cosseted and spoiled and given every luxury. I learned young to take the easy path—the road of least resistance, the one with the least ruffled feathers. Inner planets taught the lesson of ripples very early. I didn’t need to be Kish, prepared to punch the world in the nose at any moment, or Raven, always ready to boss it around for its own good. Tee was a little more like me, but she had tough old grandmothers and aunties helping her stick with the hard when she had to.
Me, I worked from comfort. I saw the threads best that way—and it felt good to be on the side of harmony and ease and smoothness in the universe. The sooner I could get my little corner of the galaxy unsnarled and back to feeling that way, the happier I was going to be.
The Etruscan sector had been eating Fixers for breakfast for two months now, and I was heartily glad it was over. There was still cleanup to be done, and judging from the space traffic I’d seen on the way back, KarmaCorp wasn’t leaving the Etruscans on their own for a while yet. But it would be the Anthros and Peacekeepers up to bat next, likely with a StarReader or two looking over their shoulders.
Fixers were coming home—the threads had been plenty clear on that. We’d dealt with our part of the mess, and I’d lay bets that all of my friends, but especially Raven, had been in the worst of it.
She probably wouldn’t be able to tell me, but I’d see it on her anyhow.
I let my feet gather bounce from the floor and floated up the way Madame Tsarnova had beaten into my skull and my muscles more than fifteen years ago. Dancing is damn hard work, but we’re supposed to make it look easy. KarmaCorp’s standards on that front aren’t nearly as high as Madame Tsarnova’s, but grace is a difficult thing to unlearn once it’s been grafted onto your DNA.
The snarl was working with me now, trying to heal itself. I pirouetted around the room in tight, snappy twirls, giving the threads the springy, focused energy that would help them realign fastest. I could feel my roommate on her way, and I wanted to be done before she got here.
When the threads cleared and straightened, their sigh of relief was almost as audible as mine. I crumpled to the dance floor, content to stay where I’d fallen.
The studio door opened, and Raven surveyed the room with tired, assessing eyes. “I would have helped you with that.”
I managed to slide up to sitting. I could tell by the layers of dust on her that she’d taken a detour into the backcountry of Stardust Prime before she got here. We all had our different ways of shedding mission crap—hers involved days of hiking in the most inhospitable territory she could find. “When did you get back?”
She shrugged, snagging my water bottle from its place against the wall. “A few hours ago, I think.”
Not one of her longer detours, then. “I saved you half my shower ration.” Water wasn’t a commodity that was heavily controlled here by inner-planet standard
s, but my roommate came from a jungle world. She liked to swim in the stuff, and standard Fixer allotments didn’t run to doing that very often.
She slid down the wall, cradling my water bottle in her hands, and smiled. “Thanks.”
I was glad she didn’t argue with me—and worried. “Hard gig?”
She said nothing, but she drained the rest of my bottle in a single, long gulp.
I could feel the tired pumping off her, and the threads that she’d brought into the room had a frazzled, worn texture I’d hardly ever seen. I slid across the floor and leaned my shoulder against hers. “I know you get sent on all the tough ones, but you can’t keep running yourself this close to the edge.” That was how Fixers went over.
She just raised a wry eyebrow. “You got off the shuttle in fine shape, did you?”
She knew darn well how I’d landed—that was why she was in my little dance studio, covered in dust, instead of immersing herself in a tub full of Tee’s smelly bubbles. “I came back with my usual sore feet.” I dumped them in her lap in a clear play for sympathy. I’ve never been subtle.
She reached out and touched my naked, sweaty toes. “Let’s swing by and get some of Tee’s magic liniment. I’ll rub your feet in exchange for the hot bath I’m going to have in your shower ration.”
She’d rub my feet no matter what, and she was welcome to my water ration. As a dancer, I was used to being covered in sweat—I liked to be dry the rest of the time. It was a standing joke that I took the fastest showers on Stardust Prime.
Which was true, but only because I’d seen my roommate standing sadly in a dry shower tube the first month of tadpole school. Something deeply important had cemented in our friendship when I’d stepped in, tapped in my code, and told the shower to run for an hour. No other trainee felt the lack of water, but Raven was part dolphin. She needed water like I needed chocolate.
I hauled myself to my feet and reached for her hand. It took actual work to pull her up, which was a measure of just how tired she was.
Tee probably had a little something in her cupboard that might help with that too.
2
“I’m not pleased.”
I didn’t need to hear Yesenia’s words to know that—the look in her eyes was very clear. And just in case I’d gotten particularly dense while on my last tour of duty, her hands were making sharp, angular motions any Dancer could read in a heartbeat.
The boss lady was very not pleased.
I closed my eyes and swallowed. Debriefs rarely happened this fast after an assignment, but I’d been paged ten minutes after I’d arrived back at my pod. A lightning-fast shower wasn’t adequate preparation for Yesenia on a rampage. I liked most of the parts of being a Fixer, but this wasn’t one of them—and I wasn’t even sure why she was unhappy. I flittered a finger of confusion. If we were handtalking today, maybe I could get some answers the easy way.
“You should know why, Journeywoman.” Her eyes weren’t giving a millimeter. Whatever I’d done, it was clearly pretty far up the seismic scale. “Your performance on this last mission is deeply concerning to me.”
Whoa. I riffled mentally through the report I’d written on the shuttle between naps and really bad cups of synth-caf. I hadn’t done anything wildly impressive, but nothing had blown up, either, and given the state that corner of the quadrant had been in when I arrived, that seemed like a decent outcome. “I’m sorry, Director. I’m not certain what the problem is.” I winced even as I said the words—there was no way they were going to land well.
“Self-awareness is something I value highly in the people who work for me.” Her tone was quiet now, her hand movements lethal. “Tell me what happened in Vesuvia.”
I gulped and tried to remember what I’d written. “The merchant’s guild had effectively splintered into three factions—one in favor of splitting the guild, one pushing for unity under new leadership, and one trying to create as much chaos as possible. I believe the aim of the latter group was general destabilization of the city.” A pretty big deal when the merchant-run city of Vesuvia controlled about a third of the trade in the Etruscan sector. “You tasked me with stabilizing things as much as possible until the Federation trade delegation arrived. I believe I did that.”
“The leader of the delegation reports herself delighted with what she found on her arrival.”
I blinked. Then why the heck was I under fire? I let my hands do the talking again—so far, they were doing a better job communicating than the rest of me.
Yesenia sighed. “Exactly what actions did you take to achieve this stabilization, Journeywoman?”
Nothing wildly different from what I usually did. “I concluded that the most disruptive faction was the one attempting to seed chaos, so I tugged on some threads to stimulate individual challenges for a couple of its leaders.” I’d needed some of the rowdier people to step away from the table, and trouble at home had seemed like a reasonable way to accomplish that. Maybe I’d pulled a little too hard on something.
She studied me for a long moment. “There were other ways to dampen the ardor of the faction causing chaos. Or to strengthen the leadership so they could deal with their own dissenters. You certainly have the Talent to have done so. You chose the path of most ease, one that kept you in the shadows pulling at strings.”
That was how I worked. “You want me to have done this more visibly?” I was entirely lost now. Fixers were taught to work from the shadows, and the last thing the Etruscan sector needed was more fireworks.
“I want you to have served the highest good rather than your own comfort. There’s a difference between making the best choice and the easiest one.” Yesenia’s eyes raked up and down my face. “You haven’t definitively crossed that line yet, Journeywoman, but you aren’t uncomfortable enough with how close you’ve come.”
I was being accused of things that horrified me—by a woman I respected deeply. I swallowed hard, trying to imagine how else I might have done things on Vesuvia.
“Good. You don’t deny it.” Yesenia’s nod was crisp. “I will say this for you, Imogene—you take feedback well. You always have.”
In fifteen years, I’d never heard her use my first name. The small muscles inside my chest felt like they’d been visited by a mob of espresso-slurping kittens. “Thank you. I want to do this job as well as I can.”
The director reached for her tablet. “You’ll have another chance to practice very shortly. Your next assignment is to a colony on the third moon of the Arcurius system.”
I pulled up the quadrant’s geography in my head. Inner-planet moon, but not one I knew a whole lot about. “Thessalonia?”
“What do you know of it?”
How to spell it, mostly. “It’s an arts colony, I believe. A locally popular tourist destination.” The kind of place rich inner-planet families visited for the weekend.
“At certain times of year, yes.” Yesenia set down her tablet. “This won’t be one of those.”
I was being sent to an arts colony in a minor inner system during their off season. Some Fixers might be dumb enough to think that was a bit of a holiday after an assignment from hell. I wasn’t one of them. “What will my purpose be while I’m there?”
“You’re there to observe only.” Yesenia’s voice was brisk, dismissive. “The StarReaders are concerned something may be moving out of alignment, and you have excellent skills of discernment.”
I winced. Observation-only missions made most Fixers crazy, including me. Sometimes the StarReaders wanted eyes on the ground, a closer look at a particular intersection of energies. Since Talent sneezing the wrong way in those places had the potential to be unusually destructive, our hands were very thoroughly tied. Passive use of Talent only, and twenty more pages of rules in case that wasn’t abundantly clear.
It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten this kind of assignment—my ability to visualize energy as threads was unusual, and it meant I was good at picking up disturbances in the force. But I also knew obs
ervation-only missions tended to be reserved for highly sensitive situations, newbie Fixers, and people who had screwed up. Since nothing about this smelled sensitive and I’d lost my new and shiny several rotations back, this was almost certainly Yesenia rapping my knuckles. I moved my fingers in acquiescence—all Dancers knew the importance of discipline. I’d put in my time.
Her fingers moved in response, and they weren’t nearly so polite. “I expect you to take this assignment seriously, Journeywoman. Being the eyes and ears of the StarReaders is an important Fixer responsibility, and you will treat it as such.”
Crikey. So much for getting myself off the hot seat. I looked up, knowing this would take more than finger talk, and made the kind of serious eye contact with my boss that I generally avoided like the plague. “Understood. I’ve heard everything you’ve said here, and I’ll think on it carefully.”
A long pause while she studied me under her nanoscope. “I expect you to do more than think—I expect you to act on it.”
The horrible tightness in my shoulders eased a little. Her tone was still serious, but it had lost the edge that was trying to peel my skin off my body one strip at a time.
Yesenia picked up her tablet, tapped a couple of times, and read whatever she’d pulled up on the screen. “It will be three days before your transport leaves. Perhaps in the meantime, you would be willing to assist Camellia Reyes—she’s doing a workshop intensive tomorrow with some of the Dancer trainees.”
Camellia was a legend, and one I had plenty of experience with. She had no tolerance for trainees with average Talent, but she was a whiz with the more highly gifted kids. Not the kind of elitist stuff KarmaCorp generally put up with, but when you could wring more out of a Dancer than anyone else in the galaxy, people made allowances. I’d taken several of her workshops as a trainee, and both my feet and my ego remembered her very well. “I didn’t know she was on-planet.”