Phoenix in Flames

by Jaleta Clegg

  He muttered something too slurred for me to understand. He shoved himself away from the counter and stumbled towards me. He climbed the stairs that rose over my head.

  The lights in the room slowly dimmed and went out.

  The only one of the new people to make an appearance the next day was Nione, the hard-faced woman with the scarred neck. She talked to Shomies over breakfast. Whatever they discussed was intense. They kept their voices low, their heads close. Rivian stayed in the kitchen, his eyes bloodshot and red. Shomies and Nione went down the stairs when they finished.

  Rivian cleared away the dishes. He deliberately didn't look at me. I eased into my exercises, wondering if I was going to get any food that day.

  A while later, feet pattered down the stairs. The three girls joined Rivian in the kitchen, their clothes whispering around them. They wore gauzy dresses that emphasized their curves. They twittered at each other, meaningless comments about dances and dresses. They fluttered around Rivian, patting him and teasing him. He smiled for them, but there was a bitter twist to it that they didn't see.

  The four of them went upstairs, leaving me alone for another long day. I did my exercises and paced my tiny space. I stared out the window, at the promise of freedom. It was an illusion. The bloody light was too dim. There were no birds here, no stars. Only the slender hope that Lowell would find me.

  Dinner that night was Shomies by herself. Rivian cooked. The girls danced. Shomies watched me, though. She clapped her hands. The music stopped. The girls fluttered in confusion.

  "Dace," Shomies drawled. "Are you hungry?" She snapped her fingers at Rivian.

  He carried a plate to her. She took it and stood ponderously. She studied me for a long moment. She crossed the room and held the plate just out of my reach.

  "What are you planning?" she asked me. "You've been much too quiet."

  I didn't answer. I watched her, feeling like a rodent being stalked by a cat. She chuckled to herself.

  "You don't fool me," she said as she put the plate on the floor in front of me. "You haven't changed that much."

  I ignored the food. She was planning something. I had to figure out what.

  "Eat or go hungry, Dace," she said. "Would you prefer a ration bar?"

  "Thank you," I said, smiling at her. It was false, just like her smile. I picked up the plate. She hadn't included any utensils. I used my fingers to pick up a bite.

  I saw Rivian shake his head, his eyes warning me of something. Shomies licked her lips. I pushed the bite into my mouth, expecting her to take the plate away from me. She smiled.

  I ate another bite, wondering what I was missing. Maybe the food was poisoned. I lowered the plate.

  "Eat it, Dace," Shomies whispered. "Are you afraid of me?"

  I didn't dare answer. Anything I said would either be a lie or give her more power over me.

  "Answer me!" she shouted. She slapped the plate of food out of my hand. It landed upside down on the carpet not far away.

  "Go to hell, Shomies," I said very slowly and deliberately.

  She slapped me. I tasted blood. She stepped away, turning her back.

  "You will not feed her again," she said to Rivian. She moved up the stairs, each step producing a chorus of squeaks.

  The three girls followed her, whispering to each other as they fluttered away.

  I wiped blood from my lip. Rivian picked up the plate and the spilled food. I didn't try to talk to him. He ignored me as he cleaned up the mess.

  Chapter 40

  Maximillius the Fourteenth, heir to the throne of the Empire, pulled the door closed behind him. He caught the medic's eyes, holding the man where he stood.

  "No one can know of this," he said.

  "We can't lie," the medic protested. "Already they ask questions about him."

  "You tell them he's dying and the Empire will fall all the faster."

  "It's the truth," the medic insisted.

  "He's ill. He will recover. Tell them he's recovering from a bout of stress." Max moved closer to the medic. The man looked away from him.

  "He is dying. Three more months, perhaps. You have to face the truth. You of all people." The medic snapped his case closed. "If I were you, I'd be preparing to take the throne."

  "Is that what you think? That I'm just waiting for him to die?" Max slammed his hand on a nearby table. "I don't want the throne. I don't want what's left of the Empire."

  "Want it or not, it's soon going to be yours. Despite everything I can do for him."

  "You never found a cause," Max said accusingly.

  "Blame it on stress, all of his tests showed nothing more than that."

  "Stress does not kill people."

  The medic didn't answer. He picked up his case of medical supplies and opened the door.

  "You can't tell the truth," Max said.

  "It will be worse if I lie."

  "At least give me a week."

  "You may not have a week. You should tell the Council of Worlds tomorrow. Give them time to prepare."

  Max leaned on the table, his eyes closed. The medic walked out, closing the door behind him.

  "What am I going to do?" Max asked out loud, though there was no one to hear him. Or so he thought.

  "Take the throne," the woman said behind him. "Make your father proud."

  Max turned to face her. "Help me, Sonja. I'm not strong without you."

  "I know, my love." Her skirts whispered as she crossed the room to him. He gathered her into his arms and held her. She stroked his hair and kissed him.

  "You should marry me," he said, catching her face between his hands. "Be my Empress."

  "Don't be silly," she said. "They would never accept me. And think of the scandal. I am your cousin."

  "And the woman who has utterly bewitched me with her beauty." Max ran his hands through her hair, loosening it. Pins scattered across the floor around her.

  She shook out her blond hair. She smiled at the heir to the throne of the Empire, running her silver nails across his lips. He closed his eyes, his breathing ragged.

  "Sonja." He reached to pull her closer. She slipped easily out of his hold.

  "Patience, my love. This is not the time nor the place."

  His eyes snapped open. "That's what you've said, every time since that first night."

  "Max, my love, you must be patient. We are not ordinary people. We must wait."

  "Until when?"

  She glanced at the door behind him. "Tomorrow night," she said. Footsteps sounded outside, coming quickly. "Come alone to the garden house. I'll be waiting." She pressed a quick kiss on his mouth. "They can't know I was here, Max. They can't know about us. Not yet."

  "Sonja," he reached for her.

  She was gone, disappearing into one of the many secret passages that riddled the Imperial palace. Max was left holding nothing but the lingering scent of her perfume. It reminded him of mountain glaciers, ice and snow and air so cold it hurt to breathe. He shivered as the door behind him opened.

  "My lord?"

  "Lord Seneschal," Max said, not bothering to face the man. "What is it this time?"

  "There are matters of state that must be attended to. The medic has said that the Emperor is—"

  "Dying?" Max whirled on the man.

  The Lord Seneschal's face went white. "Then it is true?"

  Max silently cursed himself. It couldn't have been avoided much longer. But he had tomorrow night to look forward to.

  "Yes, my father is dying," he said.

  "Then you must assume his responsibilities," the Seneschal said.

  "Don't tell me my duty," Max snapped. He straightened and glared at the man. In that moment, he almost looked like an Emperor should.

  "They are waiting for you in the formal tea room," the Seneschal said. His eyes strayed to the bedroom door behind Max.

  "Send in his man to care for him," Max said. "The medic said there was nothing more he could do."

  "My lord," the Seneschal said,
bowing his head.

  Max lifted his chin and marched out of the room. Whether he wanted it or not, the day had finally come when he would have to live up to his birthright.

  As he walked through the palace halls he promised himself that he would find a way to have Sonja openly at his side. Cousin or not, scandal or not, he wanted her and he was going to have her.

  He was unaware of her watching him. Sonja stood in a secret room, smiling to herself as she watched his figure through a tiny camera. He had been the easy part of her plan. It was almost time for the final act. She had only a few more pieces to move into place. She brushed dust from her silver skirts and pulled her veil back over her face before she left the room. Max was one of very few who knew the face under that veil.

  Tomorrow night she would make certain he would not betray her secret. She felt the tiny pouch of drugs tucked into her sleeve and smiled behind her veil.

  Chapter 41

  The ship was fairly quiet, for once. Louie was asleep, as were most of the others. It was the first time in the last four days Lowell felt he could actually think. The ship was just too small for the number of people crowded on board. Lowell leaned back in his chair, studying the ceiling. It was odd, he thought, how different it felt to not be the one in charge. Jasyn had made it very clear she was the one calling the shots. They expected him to object and take over. He was happy to step aside. So far. He didn't have enough information to really make a good decision. Jasyn's choices, though they weren't the ones he would have made, were acceptable. Luck was definitely on her side.

  The only piece that didn't fit, that he would never have allowed, was Ananda. She'd stayed in the background, trying too hard not to draw attention to herself. He knew she was up to something, but he had no idea what. Once they came out of hyperspace, she would have to be watched very closely. Zik'taura was still technically Imperial, unless things had changed drastically over the last two weeks. It was far enough out the Patrol wouldn't have ships there. At least that was what everyone hoped.

  He closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Hope was a strange thing. And so was luck. He'd never expected to catch up with them, not for weeks. Having Paltronis show up at the same port was definitely more than coincidence. Maybe they were right. Lady Rina and her luck were still with them. Maybe he needed sleep so he could think clearly.

  He sat up and opened his eyes. He was tired. But there were so many loose ends, pieces that didn't fit yet, questions he couldn't answer. He found it hard to sleep.

  He pulled the handcomp Clark had loaned him across the table. He opened the file he'd started. Lists of questions, stray bits of data, whatever he had, was there. It still didn't make sense.

  Dace had disappeared from Tireo, kidnapped by a hired thug by the name of McKane. If Ananda could be believed, he was hired by Ren Matthias, a low ranking independent trying to make a fortune. As far as Lowell could find out, Matthias wasn't affiliated with any particular syndicate. He played as many as he thought he could get away with. He was the one behind selling Dace at the arms bazaar. The why was easy; he wanted to get rich. Matthias was most likely a dead end, and most likely dead by now. Tracing him wasn't going to get them anywhere important.

  They needed to find out who had bought Dace. That answer would determine their next step. He had his suspicions, but no solid evidence. And his list of possible buyers was much too long. He tapped his finger on the table next to the handcomp. He needed information and he had no way to acquire it. It was frustrating.

  Clark yawned sleepily on his way past the table. Lowell watched him as he entered the cockpit. Clark flipped switches, settling into the pilots chair.

  "How soon?" Lowell asked.

  "We should hit the jump point in about fifteen minutes," Clark answered. "And if the repairs hold, we should be landing in about an hour."

  Lowell picked up the handcomp and walked to the cockpit. "Mind if I join you?"

  "Go ahead," Clark answered. He ran a quick check of the thruster system and yawned again. "What great insights do you have to offer?" he asked when he finished.

  "I have some guesses, not much else."

  "Your guesses are better than mine."

  "We need to trace the buyer, not the seller." Lowell waited for Clark to object.

  "I know," Clark said, agreeing with him instead. "But so far, the only lead we have is the seller. We find Ren Matthias and we beat the buyer's name out of him."

  "If he even knows it."

  "That would be a problem," Clark said. "You'll find out the information. I have great confidence in your abilities."

  "I need access to the Patrol database, an updated one. It would also help to get into whatever the syndicates are using."

  "You need Scholar for that."

  "And he's missing. I tried to find him." Lowell shook his head.

  Clark studied him. "What, Lowell?" he asked after a long minute.

  "The syndicates are winning. They buried me in the High Command. I couldn't find the location of bathrooms in a public building. They shut me off from everything."

  "So the Empire finally falls. It won't be your personal fault, Lowell."

  "So I should stop feeling guilty about it? I don't. I feel guilty for the people I failed. Like Scholar and Dace."

  "I'm not your confessor, Lowell."

  "I'm not asking you to be."

  "Then why are you telling me this?"

  "Because you seemed sympathetic."

  The reentry alarm sounded. Clark flipped the com switch. "Ginni or Twyla? I need someone up here now." He flipped it back off. "I hope I got the right cabin. I have no idea where anyone is sleeping on this ship."

  "Not even your wife?"

  "Don't get personal."

  "She was the best decision you ever made, Clark. I'm glad it's worked out for you."

  "Now you're getting maudlin."

  "I'm getting old."

  Jasyn and Twyla both walked in, yawning. Jasyn wore bright purple pajamas. Twyla wore a rumpled shipsuit.

  "You're in my chair," Jasyn said to Lowell.

  He shifted to the other side of the cockpit. She took the nav chair and booted up the system. Twyla had the copilots station.

  "Thruster pressure is a bit low," Clark told Twyla. "Keep an eye on it."

  "Yes, sir," Twyla said through another yawn.

  Lowell watched them work together. They fit, they were a team. They belonged. He wondered if he'd ever belonged anywhere. Clark was right. He was getting maudlin.

  He toyed with the handcomp while they made the downshift to normal space. Zik'taura was just ahead. They saw no sign of Patrol ships in the area and only a handful of merchants. The port official who answered their hail was pure business. They were given an approach path that took them straight in.

  Zik'taura was a huge planet, halfway to gas giant status. The gravity was much too high for most species. The atmosphere was too thick, laced with poisonous gases. They docked at the station orbiting the planet.

  "Everett's ship is three berths to port," Jasyn said. "Who wants to go with me to visit?"

  "I'll go," Lowell offered.

  "We leave after Clark deals with station authority," Jasyn said, as she stood. She dropped a kiss on top of Clark's head. "I'm going to change."

  "And I know," Clark said, "don't let them overcharge us."

  "Not by too much," Jasyn said. "Unless Lowell happens to have lots of cash stowed somewhere."

  "Give me a few minutes," Lowell said as he plugged the handcomp into the dataport.

  "Are you serious?" Jasyn asked.

  "I should have some kind of account here," he said as he logged into the station's datanet. He typed on the pad and frowned. "I should have had something here."

  "Let me know when he's done," Jasyn said. She yawned and stretched as she walked out.

  "Do you want me to run another diagnostic?" Twyla asked Clark. "The thrusters were fine on the way in."

  "Go ahead," Clark said. "We should run the full
set, just in case. Station authority is on the way." He patted Twyla on the shoulder as he slid out of his seat. He brushed past Lowell.

  They heard him opening the hatch, securing the airlock seals around it. The station locked power feeds and fuel lines to the ship automatically. Lowell kept digging through the datanet. Twyla ran the diagnostics on the engine systems.

  Lowell frowned at the message on his screen. None of his aliases were showing up here. He typed in a different set of inquiries. The answers to those made him smile, just a bit. He kept digging. When the handcomp ran out of memory, he dumped the extra files into the ship's computer.

  "What have you got?" Clark asked when he returned.

  Lowell glanced up, to be sure Clark was asking him and not Twyla. Clark stood over his shoulder, trying to read the screen of the handcomp. Twyla was still busy with the ship.

  "None of my accounts are accessible here," he said. "Except the one with my real name on it. If I tap into that, the Patrol will be here within days. In full force."

  "The only retirement plan for High Command is to die?" Clark asked.

  "For me, at least. I didn't like the benefits they offered."

  "What do you have, Lowell? Jasyn's right. We are low on cash. And the Gypsies aren't going to be offering us any credit."

  "Dace has almost a million credits in her account. It's not tagged or frozen that I can tell. They must believe she's out of the game for good."

  "Who, Lowell?"

  "I never could find out. Anytime I got close, my people disappeared. They tried to kill me at least once."

  "Then tell me what game they're playing."

  "Destroy the Empire. The game I can't win."

  "This is a setup?" Clark asked. "Kidnapping Dace was part of the plan?"

  Lowell shrugged. "I can't tell for sure. But who was the biggest threat to them, besides me?"

  "Dace? You're kidding."

  "She spent several months on Linas-Drias, associating with the cream of society. They suspected, but never proved, she was my agent. She's good, Clark, much better than you ever were."