by Jaleta Clegg
Phoenix in Flames
The Fall of the Altairan Empire, Book 10
Jaleta Clegg
Copyright 2014 by Jaleta Clegg
Smashwords edition
©2014
Please do not copy or distribute this book without the permission of the author.
A complete listing of works can be found at http://www.jaletac.com
The Fall of the Altairan Empire series can be found at http://www.altairanempire.com
Book 1: Nexus Point
Book 2: Priestess of the Eggstone
Book 3: Poisoned Pawn
Book 4: Kumadai Run
Book 5: Cold Revenge
Book 6: Jericho Falling
Book 7: Obsidian Tears
Book 8: Chain of Secrets
Book 9: An Indecent Proposal
Book 10: Phoenix in Flames
Book 11: Redemption
This one's for you, James.
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
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Author's Note
Chapter 1
The darkness tasted of stone and the wet that dripped in the subterranean maze, sometimes close enough he could touch it, sometimes so distant it made his throat ache. His universe shrank, encompassing only the wet coldness of stone forever under his fingers. Once he had known light and warmth, hidden in the haze that filled his mind. Now was all that existed, all that ever had existed, all that ever would exist. Now was the cold dark and unending stone.
And her. He shivered at the forbidden thought. She came sometimes, into the darkness. She brought light with her, wrapped around her. She brought quiet words and soft touches. She supplied clear water and the almost forgotten taste of food. She called herself an angel. Her absence was his punishment, clear indication that he was not worthy of her presence.
Living was only a habit, a fading one. He once had a reason, another he was responsible for. He didn't remember who he was supposed to protect or what had gone wrong, only that he had failed.
He huddled against wet stone and scurried through the empty echoing spaces between. He was an animal, locked underground forever. The angel brought aching hope and memories, but doomed him to silent darkness when she withdrew. She came, shining in her white robes, to stroke his face with her hands.
Her touch brought pleasure, agonizing in its intensity. He shouldn't want it, he fought the need. And he lost every time. He needed her light even though he knew at some level her touch would kill him. Eventually.
Her touch unlocked his memories for a brief moment of sanity before her touch took it away again and left him sobbing over his betrayal. He had tried to resist her. He had broken every vow he'd ever made after she touched him. He had tried to hide, but she had found him, her voice scolding and harsh even as her hands gently touched his face. She would always find him no matter where he tried to hide. Not in the maze of rock, and not in his mind.
He wrapped his arms around himself, alone in the darkness, shivering with cold and need. She had stolen everything and left him only the hope that she would come back before he gave in to the shrieking madness creeping through the silent stone. He closed his eyes, seeking artificial darkness he could control. It was the only shred of self he had left. He had no name, no thoughts to call his own, no words, nothing but what she gave him. He kept nothing from her gentle questions and her gentler touch.
Except for a single name that echoed through his dreams.
Dace.
Chapter 2
It was a nice desk. No, more than just a nice desk. An extremely nice desk. The polished wood of the surface was smooth and glossy, the color of warm honey. The edges were scrolled, carved into an elegant profile. The drawers were real wood and slid silently on heavy casters. The desk was everything an important person would want.
It was also completely empty, void of anything of any significance, a hollow symbol. Much like Lowell's current position.
Head of the Patrol High Command, one of the most powerful people in the Empire. What a cosmic joke. He'd held much more power as the unrecognized head of the undercover division, the one that no one really talked about because no one was quite sure if it existed or was only rumor. The Emperor had appointed him as the official head of the entire Patrol in an effort to clean out the corruption that ran rampant through its ranks. It hadn't worked.
Theodys had been heavily involved in the conspiracy to bring down the current government, until he'd been killed. Lowell had no idea who else was involved. All the trails he'd found were cold, dead ends that led him in circles.
He spread his hands over the pristine surface of the desk. Everything, all the connections and threads he'd spent years building, had unraveled over the last months. They had manipulated and maneuvered him into a corner. He saw no way out.
He had started with strong backing. He had Paltronis, and he trusted her with his life and his reputation. But they had found a way to remove her, to shuffle her off into a position where she had no contacts, nothing useful to offer him. He wasn't even sure where she was.
Commander Wexford had also come, offering his support, but he was never part of society on Linas-Drias. Wexford had taken command of the Fleet, relieving Admiral Flanigan of duty and arresting him for plotting treason. Wexford was as unreachable as Paltronis, stationed light years away and busy with his own concerns.
Lowell had moved quickly, forcing others of the High Command into retirement, threatening to charge them with treason if they didn't go, but they were far from gone. They pulled strings within the Council of Worlds, influencing the nominations to the Patrol High Command, picking their own replacements. Lowell's hands were tied.
He was the leader. His word should have been law within the ranks of the Patrol. He was mostly ignored. They saluted him, and gave him patronizing smiles as they ignored his orders.
He tapped his fingers on the wooden surface, a dull sound, muted in the plush office.
With no one of his own on the High Command staff, reports were routinely misplaced and redirected. Information never reached him, until it was much too late to act on it. His orders were misfiled or lost or reworded. No one ever would admit to the ta
mpering. As far as he could tell, every one of his staff were involved.
Lowell had been reduced to a figurehead with no more power than the stone statue of the first High Commander in the lobby of the building. He'd been outplayed and outmaneuvered at every turn. He had lost.
He wanted to retire. He wanted to become an anonymous citizen of the Empire. He couldn't do that while war threatened. The situation had stabilized in the last month, but it was much too shaky for his liking. The Empire was like a chair with three legs missing. Balancing on the remaining leg was hard enough without people trying to kick it out from under you.
He'd tried, he really had. He'd given his life to keeping the Empire intact and stable. And he'd watched it crumble. It hadn't collapsed completely, but that was only a matter of time now. He'd seen the way the dice fell. The Federation helped stabilize what was left of the Empire. The situation would have settled, peace would have been possible, except there was still someone out there working to drag everything down.
He smiled bitterly. They didn't know how close they were to succeeding.
He had never felt quite so isolated.
He tried to keep things together. He did whatever he could to keep the fabric of society from unraveling completely. The knots were getting tricky to hold onto, there were so many of them.
And his people kept disappearing.
He'd discovered a message from Scholar, months old, buried in a database. He had no idea where Scholar was, or even if he was still alive. Lowell hadn't been able to trace him.
His other agents were scattered through the Empire, pushed into dead end positions that gave them no access to anything useful. Anyone tainted by association with him had been moved and demoted on the flimsiest excuse. It was enough to make him believe in paranoia.
They'd pulled his teeth, figuratively speaking. Without information, without loyal people in his network, he was nothing more than an old man.
He sighed, his gaze moving from the blank desk to the equally blank window. He was high in the Patrol Command Tower, more than a mile from the surface of the planet. The window showed gray fog. Rain rattled the translucent surface of the window every few moments. The tower was locked in a wet cycle for three more days.
He could have chosen to project any number of scenes through his window. He chose reality. He always had. He had never shied away from hard truths. Maybe he should have.
He tapped his fingers across the desk, wanting to be doing something. He had no reports, no paperwork, nothing to occupy his time. His staff made certain of that.
He'd lost track of the Phoenix and her crew. Those requests sometimes came through. His staff saw no danger in keeping tabs on one battered merchant ship, but it was very low on their priority list. The last position he had was three weeks old. It didn't help that the Phoenix changed id beacons almost every stop.
He envied Dace her freedom. She'd escaped the web of intrigue; with a few scars, true, but no lasting damage. At least he wanted to believe what the psych techs told him. She would adjust. She would survive. He knew firsthand how well she survived.
And he wished she were here. It was selfish of him to wish that, after everything she'd done. But if she were here—
Life would definitely be interesting, he thought with a heavy sigh.
His com link beeped, a soft chiming. He almost preferred the shrill cacophony of alarms. He didn't want to answer. What else was he going to do? Sit here and slowly die?
"Yes?" he said to the desk. There weren't even any buttons for him to push. The whole system was coded to his voice commands.
"You have the reception appointment at three," one of his nameless secretaries informed him.
"Thank you," he answered.
The com light blinked off. He was alone in his silence again. The clock in his desk showed he had two hours to wait. Two hours to waste doing nothing because he had nothing to do.
He slid his hands over the desk, feeling the unblemished smoothness of it.
He had tried everything. He was finished. He was too old.
The faintest stirring of emotions mixed like bile in his belly, disgust at himself and defiance. He wasn't going to go meekly into retirement. He would find some way to fight back.
But he was so tired. He didn't have the heart to rebuild his network from scratch, even if he could. He would rebel, in small ways.
He tapped his desk, calling up his comp screen. He opened the files they let him access. They contained useful information. He just had to find it. And then he would work on breaking the codes on the rest of the files.
They'd given him the desk. He might as well find some use for it.
Chapter 3
"We're going shopping," Jasyn announced. "Who's coming?" She had her baby, Louie, parked on one hip. He grinned and waved his hands.
"Can't pass that up," Twyla answered.
"Count me in," Ginni said. "Anything to get out of cargo duty."
"What about you, Dace?" Jasyn asked.
I looked up from the reader in my lap. We'd landed only an hour before. I was waiting for the engine to finish cooling. I shook my head.
"You can't sit here and mope for the rest of your life," Jasyn said.
"I am not moping," I said. "I just don't want to go."
"We aren't shopping for clothes. We're going to find some spec items. Our current supply is running low."
"As if we need it," I answered. "We could fly empty for the rest of our lives and still have money to burn. Thanks to Leon and Lady Rina, we own half the businesses in the galaxy." It was an exaggeration, but Lady Rina's will and Leon's scheming had resulted in millions of credits in assets. We didn't have to haul cargo at all. We didn't need to search for some trade item that would strike it rich for us. We were already rich.
"Excuses, excuses," Jasyn said. "You used to do it because it was fun. Has that changed, too?"
"I don't want to, Jasyn. Go shopping and have fun. I need to recalibrate the engine coils."
"You did that last week," Clark said.
"I want to do it again," I insisted.
"Suit yourself." Jasyn gathered her bag of necessary baby items then headed out the hatch. Ginni and Twyla went with her.
She was upset, but I didn't know how to fix it. I hadn't left the ship, except to walk around to the cargo doors, in over a month. Not since we'd lifted from Shangrila. I didn't want to leave. I got a creeping, sick feeling in my middle when I did. I knew it was irrational. I didn't know how to explain to the others.
"Dace, you have to quit moping sometime," Clark said. He was trying to be nice, he was trying to help, which was why I didn't hit him.
"I am not moping," I said instead.
"We all know how you feel about Tayvis," he continued. "Just say the word and we'll drop everything to track him down."
"What about keeping a low profile? We're pretending to be just another merchant trying to scrape out a living. We're supposed to be in hiding. If we come out as the Phoenix Rising, looking for Tayvis, the entire galaxy will know."
"That's an excuse. You're hiding behind them."
"You said you'd give me time, Clark."
"And we have. It's past time for you to start living again."
I snapped the reader shut and jammed it into a pocket behind the padded bench where I sat. "It's my life, my choice. I'm perfectly happy staying on board."
"And spending hours avoiding Darus? He's almost as bad as you are. I don't know how you're planning on recalibrating the coils from the cockpit."
"It isn't your business."
"It is my business. You're part of our family, Dace. And whether you want to admit it or not, so is your father."
Darus, my father, had joined the crew while I was stranded on Trythia. It had been a shock to find him listed as the engineer of my ship. Our relationship was strained. I wasn't sure how to act around him. He wanted more from me than I knew how to give.
"You can't live out the rest of your life on this ship. For on
e thing, it's pretty small."
I sighed. "Give me time, Clark."
"You promise you aren't just going to hide here for the next year?"
"The next year? Maybe. But not longer than that. I promise."
"I can live with that. I'll have to convince Jasyn, though." He leaned against the table, his hands in his pockets. "I wasn't joking about helping you find Tayvis."
"It's over," I said sharply. The pain of losing Tayvis was still too raw. "He's gone. He walked out on me. Life isn't like the vids. Sometimes it just doesn't work the way you want it to."
"Dace—"
"Just drop it."
He looked down at the floor, scuffing his foot over the fibermat.
"Who's doing cargo?" Beryn asked, walking into the lounge and our strained silence. He looked back and forth between the two of us. "Fighting again?"
Clark shook his head in warning. I ignored Beryn. His cheerfulness grated on my nerves.
"The buyer should be here soon," Clark said to Beryn. "Why don't you wait out by the cargo bay doors for them?"
"Sounds great," Beryn said. "I love standing around."
"You do it so well," Clark teased. He waited until Beryn was out the hatch before he turned on me again. "Dace, will you at least talk to Darus? Work something out with him. Please. You both deserve better than you're giving."
I rubbed my face with my hands. "Fine. I'll talk to him."
"Good. I'll head over to the port offices and take care of the paperwork." He paused at the hatch. "You've got at least an hour. I'll see that Beryn leaves you alone."
I watched him disappear into the afternoon light. It was unfair. Jasyn and I were the owners of the ship. I was the captain, so it technically should have been my responsibility to sign the papers and pay the fees. I felt queasy just thinking about walking out of the ship.
I used to enjoy new planets. But after Trythia, and Tivor, and the charade of my engagement to Vance Shiropi, I never wanted to leave again. A little voice in the back of my head warned me that if I voluntarily walked off the ship, bad things would happen. And I would never reach home again.
