by Jaleta Clegg
I had one slender thread of hope to cling to. I knew Jasyn wouldn't forget me. At least I believed she wouldn't. I had to believe that or nothing Phil did would keep me alive.
The ship slid into normal space. Phil shut off his handcomp and left the cabin. I heard him talking with the crew in the other room. The thug snored on the top bunk. I sat on the floor and stared at a screw in the wall. With ten seconds and a screwdriver, I could have been free. I could have mangled enough of the ship's systems to kill everyone on board. Death was freedom enough.
Except it wasn't going to be that easy. Phil had made very sure I wasn't given access to anything more dangerous than a ration bar. Try as I might, ration bars wouldn't kill me or blow up the ship.
The ship slowed. I closed my eyes. I knew exactly when they fired the thrusters. I knew exactly when they should have started slowing. The approach vector was fairly straight. It must have been one of the outer planets, one with less traffic than the inner worlds. Except there weren't any inner or outer planets anymore. I had no idea if we were in Federation space or Imperial space or somewhere else.
The pilot on the ship was passable. The landing was much rougher than it should have been. It was torture to be chained to the wall. I ached to be flying. I knew I could fly better than the current pilot. I also knew I had a better chance of marrying the Emperor's son Max than I did of flying that ship.
The engines shut down. The ship was quiet. I curled up against the wall and pretended I was asleep.
"You're not hearing what I'm saying."
Phil's voice was easy to hear. It wasn't exactly high pitched or shrill, but it was piercing. He was out in the main room. I strained to hear, not because it was interesting but because it was habit.
"I told you before, Lucas, I won't do it. Not for any price."
He must have been talking on the com. I didn't hear a reply. I was only slightly curious what Phil couldn't be paid to do.
"I'm not in the business of slavery."
I heard the com squawk in answer.
"This is a one time deal. A purchase made at an arms bazaar. I'm only acting as her agent."
Despite every effort not to be interested, I was now.
"True, my price was steep. She paid without protest. Yes, she paid up front. She knows how to keep her people loyal."
He was quiet for a while. I heard the occasional static from the com.
"I'm being too well paid for that. Besides, I wouldn't dare cross her. And neither would you, Lucas."
The com squawked static for a while.
"No, I will not be party to a staged attack. I don't care what you offer. You'll have to visit her yourself and deal. Although the amount she authorized me to spend indicates she won't listen. She wants this one for herself. What's your interest in the package?"
I shifted. The floor was hard and I was tired of sitting. I stretched my legs out. Who wanted me so badly? Whoever it was, she had spent five hundred seventy three thousand credits to get me. Whoever Lucas was, he apparently wanted me badly enough to try to steal me, only Phil wasn't cooperating. I would have offered him everything in my personal account, almost a million last time I checked, if I thought it would have done any good. I didn't know if the account was still accessible or if the Patrol had frozen it. I didn't know if it was any good wherever I currently was. I didn't know if Phil would have taken the bribe and left me chained or not. I suspected he would have. He didn't have a heart or a conscience.
Phil laughed. Brayed was a better term. "She turned you down. Your good looks and charm didn't affect her at all, did they? That's the real reason you want her. If you own her she won't dare say no. You are pathetic."
He turned the com off in mid-squawk. I heard him chuckling to himself in the other room. He came into the cabin and smiled his reptilian smile.
"Thurwood," he shouted at the sleeping thug. He waited until the thug grunted. "Go into the port. I need some supplies. Money and a list," he said, holding out a small bag.
Thurwood rolled off the bunk, yawning and scratching himself. He slouched his way across the cabin and took the bag from Philemon.
"You've got six hours, no more," Phil said as the thug left.
The outer hatch slid open and shut. Phil stayed in the doorway, watching me until it was closed again. He crossed the cabin and picked up his handcomp.
"Who wanted me worse than the rest?" I asked. My voice was hoarse and scratchy. I cleared my throat.
"You'll meet her soon enough." Phil settled on the bunk, tapping rapidly on the handcomp. "She's paying me to deliver you. Not make conversation with you."
"Don't talk to the merchandise. Am I really that dangerous?"
"Not that I can tell. But just to be safe…" He turned his back.
I was tempted to see how annoyed I could make him. I could try singing or humming or cracking my knuckles. It took too much effort. I gave up and lay down on the thin blanket he had given me for a bed. It was hard and uncomfortable and chilly. It didn't matter. Nothing did. I closed my eyes and pretended I was asleep until I really was.
I woke when the thug, Thurwood, kicked me. He dropped a ration bar on my head and loomed over me until I ate it. He waited until I got up and went into the bathroom. I knew he would have kicked me again if I'd given him the excuse. I slid the door shut. It wouldn't close all the way. The chain was in the way.
I stayed in the bathroom until Thurwood hammered on the door. He yanked me out by the chain when it slid open. I tripped and sprawled on the floor. He kicked me back into my corner.
"Don't bruise her too badly," Phil said, sounding completely unconcerned.
I hated them both, except I was too tired to care. No, not tired. That could have been fixed by sleeping. I had nothing left to hate with. I was empty. I only wanted the nightmare to end. Only this time I didn't think it would, not until I was dead.
I sat on the blanket and stared at the floor next to my bare feet. The cabin was quiet except for Phil's typing. Thurwood left, mumbling something about running an errand.
"I don't understand," Phil said conversationally after a while, "why are they so afraid of you? You're nothing special that I can see, just an undersized, unattractive female. And yet, my instructions were very clear. Unpickable locks on everything. No tools of any sort; in fact, nothing of any sort except the clothing. Why? Who are you really?"
"If you tell me, we'll both know who I'm supposed to be."
"You're trying too hard to be clever. I was told you were an agent for the Patrol."
"I'm just a pilot for a tramp trader."
He snorted his disbelief. "I've heard the stories about you. Frankly, they can't possibly be true. But I don't believe you're just a pilot, either."
"All right, I'll admit I was captain and part owner, too." I stared at the floor. That was all I had ever wanted to be. I'd never wanted the rest. It just sort of happened.
"You've made me curious. I've been trying to dig out the truth on you and so far all I have found in your file is the biggest pile of lies I've ever seen."
His comment gave me hope. I hid it by keeping my head down. If my personal file was still full of Lowell's cover stories, it meant he was still watching out for me. It meant he still had some pull. I hoped it meant he knew what had happened. Because if he knew, nothing would stop him from coming for me. I knew Lowell would come. I wasn't sure if Jasyn would risk it, but Lowell would. The slave collar seemed looser. I could do this, I could pretend, because I knew Lowell was coming for me.
"What?" Phil demanded. He squatted in front of me and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Something just changed." He studied my face. His friendly chattiness evaporated as if it had never been. He paled and backed away from me, wiping his hand down his leg as if touching me had contaminated him. I wondered what he had seen in my eyes. "Perhaps the stories have more truth than I believed."
I cursed myself while he checked the chain and searched the bathroom. I had just destroyed any chance I had of
escaping before Phil delivered me to my new owner. I doubted he would have been sloppy anyway. I hadn't had a chance at all. I rattled the chain on my ankle. It was a reminder of how serious they were. Whoever had bought me knew me well enough to believe the stories. Phil would have followed instructions, whether he believed them necessary or not. He was too careful. I would never have made it off the ship.
But Lowell knew about me. Lowell had kept my cover story in place. I had to cling to that slender hope. Lowell had to know. He had to be coming for me.
Phil didn't talk to me again. He sat on the bunk and watched me until I was ready to scream. I tried hiding in the bathroom. He made Thurwood drag me out after less than five minutes. Phil kept his distance. Thurwood fed me and kicked me at random intervals.
I didn't have to pretend not to hope. It was hard enough to hold onto that one tiny flicker. When the ship lifted off again several days later, it almost went out. It was the only thing keeping me alive and sane. Lowell had to know where I was. Lowell had to be coming.
It almost made me laugh. The one person I thought I truly hated was the one I was counting on to rescue me.
I hadn't hated Lowell in years. And as I thought back, I had never really hated him. I'd hated what he stood for. I'd hated the manipulations he had put me through. I knew he cared about me. He hated himself more than I possibly could. He had tried not to involve me, not after Trythia. What had happened after that was my own fault.
Lowell wasn't my enemy. He never had been. It hurt when I realized how close he had come to me. He had let me see a side of him I doubted anyone else had ever seen. He had left himself vulnerable where I was concerned. I realized now the price he had paid. I had pushed him away and pretended to hate him. I would do anything if he came through the door for me. I needed him, more than I ever had before.
The ship made the jump point, sliding into hyperspace. Each jump took me farther away from my friends and closer to my uncertain future. I clung to the tiny belief that Lowell was omniscient, that he could follow my trail anywhere. It was all I had left.
Chapter 33
Roland sat in the theater, a gigantic bucket of popcorn in his lap. He watched the screen, completely enthralled even though it was at least the twentieth time he'd seen that particular vid. The villain was currently winning. He popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
He pretended he didn't notice when someone sat next to him. The theater was mostly empty. It was the middle of the night for most people on the huge cruise ship that Roland used for his capital. He'd just been looking for an excuse to relax for a while. He sighed and set the popcorn to one side.
"What is it this time, Will? You promised me Jasyn and the others would be here by now."
"We've had some slight problems," Will answered in a low voice that barely carried over the sounds of the hero battling the villain on the screen.
"Slight? Where Dace is concerned?"
"All right, make that major problems." Will reached for the popcorn bucket.
"Is that all the dinner you've eaten today? You really should take better care of yourself."
Will didn't answer. His mouth was full. Roland turned back to the vid. Will would tell him, sooner not later. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Will had to say.
"We just got the message half an hour ago," Will said once the fight on the screen had ended. "The Patrol is after the Phoenix. They've got a line on all the beacons they've been using. Someone wants them very badly."
"How is that different than yesterday?" Roland asked.
"The Patrol is openly hunting them." Will sighed and rubbed his eyes. "More than half of my contacts in the Patrol aren't answering. We've been compromised."
Roland picked up the popcorn. "They knew the risks. I still don't like it. Why can't the Emperor just see reason? Why keep pushing a war with us?"
"It's the crime syndicates pushing for war," Will answered. "Or I should say, the Syndicate. They've all merged during the last year."
"Any more leads on the woman behind it all?"
Will shook his head. "She's on Linas-Drias. That's all I can find out. No one seems to have the same information. And anyone who gets too close disappears. She owns the government. And most of the Patrol."
"Which explains why they've declared war on the Phoenix."
"It doesn't help that they claim the Phoenix attacked Lukator Station five days ago."
"When did Jasyn install weapons? I believed her ship was a merchant ship."
Will just shook his head and helped himself to more popcorn.
"Any ideas where they would run?" Roland asked.
"If they read any of the files I made sure they got, they should be headed for Hawkmoor."
"But you can't be certain. Can we send ships?"
"Invade the Empire? I'm tempted." Will chewed popcorn for a moment. "We don't have a big enough fleet to make it that far. And it wouldn't be any help. If they make it to Hawkmoor, they can get help. They should be here within two weeks."
"If they make it there." Roland shifted in his seat, pulling his feet up and tucking them under the ragged hem of his brown robe. He watched the vid for a minute. "You know, just when things seem to be worst is when the hero begins to win. Dace will get them out."
"That's another problem. Dace was kidnapped from Tireo two weeks ago. One of my agents smuggled this to me. It arrived this afternoon." Paper rattled as he pulled it from his pocket. He handed it to Roland.
Roland smoothed the wrinkled and torn page. Dace's face looked at him from it. He held it up, squinting in the dark theater to make out the words printed across the bottom. He sagged back in his chair once the message came clear.
"We're trying to track the buyer," Will said.
"They won't be coming here," Roland said. "They're going to try to find her. All on their own. Why won't they believe we'll help?"
"Because they don't want to pay your price, Roland."
"And because it's out of character for any of them to think of asking for help." He folded the paper precisely across the center. Dace's face was hidden.
"We're helping them anyway?"
"Of course."
They were silent for a moment while the hero on the screen rode away on his white horse.
"How?" Will asked.
"Ideas are your department," Roland answered.
"I'm fresh out."
"Then we'd better hope they make it to Hawkmoor. You'll think of something by then."
"Roland, my information is at least five days old. They could have been and gone by now."
Roland stood, looking slightly ridiculous in his brown robe and rope belt. There was nothing ridiculous about the look on his face. He handed the paper back to Will.
"Then find her for them. It's the least we can do."
Chapter 34
"What beacon do you want me to put in?" Clark's voice came from under the control panels.
Jasyn sighed. She was in the navigators chair, her feet tucked up out of Clark's way. "Ginni checked the chips. All of them were showing red in the Patrol database you stole. They've got us tagged no matter what name we use."
Clark slid out far enough he could look at her. "Then what do you suggest? Whatever name we use, the Patrol's going to be all over us as soon as we downshift."
"Hawkmoor doesn't have a base," Twyla said from the other side of the cockpit. "Didn't you check those records?"
"Which ones?" Jasyn asked.
"The ones the Gypsy Council made certain were in our databank before we left to rescue Dace last time. The encryption on them was pretty simple."
"Am I the only one on this ship who doesn't know how to hack files?" Jasyn complained.
"Darus doesn't have a clue, either, if it makes you feel better," Clark said.
Jasyn decided to ignore his answer. She swiveled her chair to face her screen. "Where are the files, Twyla?"
Twyla told her. Jasyn typed. Clark tucked his hands behind his head and waited, still lying o
n the floor on his back.
"There aren't any files under that name," Jasyn said.
"Do a global search," Twyla suggested. "They were there two weeks ago."
Jasyn typed, her fingers flying over her keypad. She shook her head. Her long, black hair swung loose, escaping the braid she tried to keep it in. She sat back in the chair, pulling it loose and running her fingers through it.
"Let me check," Twyla said, leaning past her. She typed and got the same results. A single cursor blinked patiently on the screen. "It's gone," she said.
Clark's grin faded. "I had to dump some files to make room for the information I stole at Lukator. I didn't think there was anything in there. Old files on sectors we've never been to. It might still be in the buffer."
Twyla shook her head. "I searched. The buffer's been erased."
"We really should have bought that extra memory module when we had the chance," Jasyn said. "Just tell me what you can remember, Twyla."
"Maybe if we did a search," Twyla muttered. She typed in the name Hawkmoor and hit the search button.
"Even if it isn't there, it won't tell us what beacon to use," Clark said. "No beacon would attract too much attention from everyone."
"Then we fly as the Phoenix Rising," Jasyn said.
"That might be a good idea," Twyla said. "From what I remember, Hawkmoor is one of the Gypsy safe worlds, a place to leave messages and get help. We go in as the Phoenix Rising, and they'll know immediately who we are."
"And either shoot us down or roll out the red carpet," Clark said. "Any guess which way it will go?"
