“Damn. You’re right. The absorbed worlds are outside that pattern. What’s so special about these?” He pointed to them. “You said they were cleansed. Cleansed of people?”
“Behold the lands of our beginning. The feathered ones perform ritual cleansing before sanctification. The sacred breeding rituals must return.” Sissy’s voice sounded hollow, deeper than her usual timbre, full of magnificent authority.
Then her eyes rolled up. All six of her girls rushed to her side and guided her back into her chair. They encircled her, making a solid barrier between the High Priestess and prying eyes. The two dogs took up their own guard stance, ears cocked to alertness, noses working, ready to defend their lady to the death.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mac quickly closed down the holo of the activity in the diplomatic conference wing. He listened to the activity beyond his closed door in Medbay. The hurrying footsteps passed him by. No one cared how he occupied his time. They’d never know how easy he found hacking through their image system to network with his own observation terminals and databases.
Tomorrow he faced surgery to complete the mending of his fried nerve endings. For the time being, he rested and observed, assured of his safety by a bevy of medical personnel led by the formidable Doc Halliday.
The habits of secrecy died hard. He kept the holovid off a while longer.
He had to think about what the star map revealed. Laudae Sissy had spotted the pattern seconds before he had. Patterns of Maril aggression, certainly. What the diplomats had not seen, but Mac had added at the last moment, was jump point locations.
No one truly understood the physics of the natural phenomena. He knew that most only led from here to there through hyperspace. A few precious ones could be manipulated by speed, trajectory, and timing to lead to dozens of locations.
Labyrinthe Corporation had built their stations near the latter. Except for the one near Harmony Prime. His mother and siblings had never managed to negotiate with that empire.
Biting his lower lip in trepidation, he pulled up the map once more. The battle locations still pulsed hot and white.
Two battles raged only a single jump from Labyrinthe Prime. Control that station and they controlled access to the entire galaxy.
For the first time in his life he knew fear for his siblings. If any one of the stations fell into enemy hands, the galaxy was lost.
On the other hand, if Labyrinthe Corporation worked together, built and armed an independent fleet, they could maintain peace and prosperous trade across a much broader sector of space than any one political alliance or empire could.
The First Contact Café was part of that network. He had to gain control over the station before Jake or Laudae Sissy spotted that pattern in the map.
He had to get out of Medbay and get to work. His lower limbs remained inert. He pushed his mind to override the damaged nerves. His back cramped into spasm after spasm of twisting muscle. Sharp pain, dull aches, and burning lances left him breathless and weak.
At the last second, before passing out, he sent a duplicate of the map to the reader built into the bedside table of his little bird.
Sissy crept from her bed. The digital readout on the small nightstand showed two o’clock in the morning. Quietly she pulled on plain brown coveralls. She’d kept the coarse work clothes as a reminder of her origins and the people she served. She might be High Priestess now, but she belonged to more than just the highborn.
The dogs raised their muzzles from the nest of their paws, ears cocked in question.
“Shush.” She held a finger to her lips. “Go back to sleep.”
Monster stretched and followed her to the door. Hastily she shut him in. She felt her way through the complex of rooms toward the lobby in complete darkness. Her bare feet made no sound on the thick carpet.
She counted her steps, memorizing where the furniture should be. “Fragit!” she cursed as her toe stubbed against a chair. These rooms were bigger than her quarters in the damaged wing. Everything was just a tad off in her calculations.
She slowed and counted more carefully.
Eventually she escaped the suite into the circular lobby and the lift. Did the continuously moving mechanism run more slowly this late in the day? Maybe her own eagerness made the trip up to the tram seem longer.
She counted off the levels impatiently. Not content to watch the numbers click over on the floor, she had to peer out at each level and check who else remained awake. Only an occasional guard patrolled. None of them looked toward the constantly moving lift or noticed her.
At last she felt a lessening from the tug of gravity on her limbs. Two more levels and weight deserted her. She jumped free of the lift platform almost before it reached its zenith and moved laterally to begin its downward rotation.
Jake awaited her with a tram.
Her heart swelled at the sight of him. He looked tired, with his dark hair flopping in his eyes and wearing his crumpled black, everyday Harmony uniform with its myriad pockets.
A gentle push with her toes sent her soaring through the nul-grav. He caught her with one arm and swung her around.
They both laughed. Paused. Gazed longingly at each other. Faces mere inches apart.
Mouths eager for a kiss.
And then he set her down inside the tram and keyed in the joint communications wing.
“You look tired, Jake,” she said softly as her hand inched toward his. “You should be in bed. I can send my broadcast to Harmony by myself.”
His fingers brushed hers. “I know you can. But I want to be there.” He paused and squeezed her hand in reassurance and left their fingers entwined. “In case something goes wrong, or Lord Lukan discovers you.”
“He is most protective of communications to Harmony, and fearful of contamination from outside influences,” she agreed.
“And he’s a liberal,” Jake chuckled.
“I wish Laud Gregor did not have such tight censorship on my official broadcasts,” she sighed. “The Media caste is now independent and should be able to report the truth without interference.”
“Governments have always influenced the media. Throughout history in every culture. The truth has always been a revolutionary concept carried out in secret.” He looked down on her fondly.
She wished he’d touch her, do more than just look at her.
“What are you going to talk about this week?” he broke the silence.
“I need to remind people to check and recheck the original Covenant Stones, to make sure Laud Gregor and the Council of Guardians can’t find excuses to change things again. We can’t allow ignorance and secrecy to dictate our faith and our culture any longer.”
“How’s Penelope doing with integrating the schools?”
“I haven’t heard.” She ground her teeth in frustration. “I broadcast to the masses in secret. No one dares reply. I get only official announcements through proper channels.”
“Meaning Laud Gregor edits them.”
She nodded rather than speak the anger that threatened to erupt.
“Give it time, Sissy. It’s only been a year. Earth took centuries to eliminate racial prejudice. Humans need someone ‘below’ them to blame rather than take responsibility for their own inadequacies.”
“Have I known you only a year? Sometimes it seems we met yesterday. Other times, like now, I feel as if I’ve known you through a dozen lifetimes.” She looked up at him, memorizing again the line of his cheek and jaw, the brown iris and slight elongation of his eyes, the set of his shoulders . . .
“Maybe we have. Earth has a couple of religions that believe our souls return time and again. Each reincarnation teaches us something. Maybe we’ve met up numerous times in our pasts.”
“That is an idea I’d like to research.”
“I’ll send you some books.”
And just as he leaned down as if to kiss her, the tram stopped and the doors opened on the communications wing with half a dozen CSS techs waiting to board
the car as they left at the end of their shift.
Jake grabbed Sissy’s hand as he launched out of the tram in one long leap to the lift. She barely had time to touch the glyph of Harmony on the side of the car. They caught a platform just as it started downward. Sissy allowed herself to relax, knowing Jake would watch for intruders. Even exhausted, he’d always watched over her and her girls. She wanted to rest her head against his chest as she rested her cares upon his shoulders.
Too soon they reached MG 3, where communications equipment filled the entire level without partitions. Three CSS techs remained on duty.
Jake led Sissy to an empty terminal beside a familiar corporal. She nodded acknowledgment of his presence. They’d met before, many times over the last six months when he helped her speak to her people through a pirate radio station. Jake had insisted she never know their contact’s name. That way, if Lord Lukan caught them and demanded punishment, she couldn’t reveal his identity.
“Incoming from Harmony, My Laudae,” Jake whispered. He looked worried. “It’s coming over our private channel.” He pushed the tech aside and assumed his position, taking command of the operation.
Words began scrolling across Sissy’s screen. “Eyes Only. Laudae Sissy. Eyes Only.”
“Please key in your password and thumbprint, My Laudae,” Jake said curtly.
Sissy obeyed. She hunted out the keys for the string of numbers that combined Jake’s birth date with her own. The few crew around her politely averted their eyes for this protocol.
The scrolling message dissolved into Little Johnny’s worried face. The head of the Media caste’s son had shown a lot of initiative in sidestepping official restrictions.
She inserted an ear bud so no one else would hear the report.
“My Laudae,” he whispered across the light-years. Static distorted his voice so that she almost didn’t recognize it. “Laud Gregor has left Harmony Prime. Official reports say he’s headed for a tour of the outer colonies. Mr. Guilliam sent me a delayed message. The High Priest is going to Labyrinthe VII, and he won’t come home without you.”
“This isn’t going to work, Jake,” Pammy said breathlessly the next day around noon. She followed closely as Jake dashed for the nearest lift.
Jake hoped she panted because of his speed, not because she hoped he’d fall flat on his face at this newest crisis aboard the First Contact Café.
Then there was the crisis the previous night. From the paleness of Sissy’s face and the stubborn set of her chin, he guessed something dire had happened on Harmony Prime. Something dire for Little Johnny to risk an urgent message for Sissy’s eyes only.
At the top of the lift, when the platform hesitated half a second before it moved horizontally and then began the downward rotation, he bent his knees, jumped and grabbed the door of the tram as it closed.
Maybe, just maybe, Pammy would be that heartbeat too slow and have to wait for the next tram. He’d had enough of her dogging his footsteps at every move.
She acted almost as if she wanted him to fail—or admit failure and defer to her expertise.
“Can’t know I’ve failed until I try,” he called back to Pammy, trying to focus his attention on what awaited him rather than what had happened last night.
Damn, she grabbed hold and slid into the tram at the last second. The automatic doors had to partially reopen rather than crush her. She even managed a brief touch to the Harmony glyph upon entry.
Sissy’s little ritual had spread throughout the station. But the contents of that secret message from Harmony had not. He’d give one of his Badger Metal throwing stars to know what had caused her to blanch and then change her message to the people of Harmony. Instead of urging people to check and recheck the original Covenant Stones, she talked about trust and opening channels of communication.
But she hadn’t trusted him or told him what was in that message.
“You don’t need one hundred Labyrinthe staff workers, Jake. Let them go,” Pammy broke into his musing halfway to wing cluster eight.
“They have no guarantee of employment at the other end of their journey. I have no other employees to take over their jobs,” he replied. “I need someone who knows how this place works to get into the guts of the propulsion system and find out why fuel consumption has increased five percent over the last week.”
“I’ll get you a full staff. A trained staff. Just give me a few days.”
“You’ve had three days, and I haven’t seen the first sign of help coming in. Not a request for docking space. Not a copy of a work contract. Not even a rumor.” Jake fixed a level gaze on her. “But I have had requests from six shipping companies to stop here on their routes. They’ll pay double docking fees if I waive CSS customs. I need staff to cope with the extra traffic. And I need to fix the propulsion system fast, before the fuel drain eats any profits increased trade can bring.”
“Those black stars on your collar have gone to your head, Jake. You can’t just order the universe to answer your pleas for help.” She frowned and crossed her arms. Amazing what zero G did for her breasts.
Stop that! he yelled to himself. She’s doing it deliberately to distract me.
“I didn’t ask the universe for help. I asked you. And I asked Lord Lukan. He’s got a transport due to dock in three hours with the promise of two dozen maintenance and computer techs. He’s already given me fifteen Workers who haven’t been ennobled or lauded. I can taint them with outside contact as much as I want. I need about three hundred more people, Pammy. And that’s a bare minimum.”
“I’ll get them for you. But these things take time. You need to concentrate on getting the three tons of Badger Metal in the Harmony ship’s hold onto the CSS ship waiting for it. We’re losing ships to Maril attacks and don’t have anything to replace them. I won’t send a fleet out without Badger Metal hulls to protect from radiation and hyperspace distortion. Have you ever been lost in hyperspace with failing instruments because Maril plasma canons left holes in your shield plating?”
“Yes,” Jake replied. Everything inside him threatened to freeze. He’d faced certain death that day after a lightning raid on a Maril munitions dump. “I got back alive and only a thousand klicks off target because I stayed calm and trusted my gut to lead me in the right direction. I didn’t panic and jerk my navigation around.”
“The next squadron might not be so smart. Save your complaints about a crew and get that Badger Metal off-loaded.”
“You want to take more time than I’ve got. And I can’t shift that cargo without crew to shift it, no matter how much the CSS needs the Badger Metal. Now either I stop those Labyrinthe workers from leaving, or we shut this place down. Completely. And I don’t think you are ready to settle on your new planet just yet. Or abandon this place to the Labyrinthe Corporation again. We need the First Contact Café to bolster CSS presence in this sector or we lose it to the Maril. Did you read my report about sightings on the fringe of this system?”
She shook her head. “Bored techs imagining data blips on dark watch.”
“You know as well as I that our jump point will take a battle fleet just about anywhere in human occupied space,” Jake continued. “The Maril see us as vulnerable and this jump point too valuable to bypass.”
Something clanged in the back of his mind. Something about the star map he’d developed for Sissy . . .
The tram stopped abruptly. Jake almost lost his grip on the wall bracket. His feet flew out from under him. No problem in zero G. He flipped for proper orientation to the lift and pushed himself free the second the doors opened enough for his body to clear.
This time he did take the extra second for a finger kiss on the glyph—thanks for a safe journey, if not a solitary one.
His comm beeped as his feet settled on the lift platform. Pammy was just slow enough to have to take the next one.
“What?” he asked the comm.
“Labyrinthe Transport LC 8579 requests permission to cycle air locks and begin boarding
passengers,” came the respectful male voice at the other end. Not Mara. She had to sleep sometime.
A luxury no one afforded Jake.
“Permission denied,” Jake ordered. He was about to turn the unit off when it beeped again, a different tone. He didn’t dare ignore it.
“Devlin,” he said into the comm, not recognizing the origin of the signal.
“Lieutenant David here, sir. Harmony transport has requested docking as close to Medbay as possible, overriding all protocols.”
“They’re three hours early. Must be a huge emergency. You still in Medbay?” Jake asked. This didn’t sound good.
“Yes, sir.”
“Get someone else to guard our guests and plant yourself at the air lock. I want you present every step of the way with whatever emergency they’ve got.”
Aha! He had an idea about the content of Sissy’s message the previous night. A highly placed and very sick passenger aboard that vessel. Who?
“My replacement isn’t due for another three hours, sir,” Lieutenant David hedged.
“Then find someone else you trust. Fast. And keep me informed.”
“Doc Halliday will invoke patient privacy.”
“Screw patient privacy. I need to know.” He swallowed the curses that sprang to mind, praying for patience instead. “Pammy, you hear that?” he called up the shaft.
“Yes.”
“Want to go see what’s up?”
“Yes. But I also need to keep track of you. Think of me as a limpet mine attached to your ass.”
“Apt description,” he muttered.
“I heard that, Jake.”
He jumped clear of the lift in the docking bay between light- and mid-G levels in the Labyrinthe wing. The docks on each wing took up a minimum of three levels in height to complete the transition between gravity designations above and below, as well as to hold bulky freight.
A sea of brown-robed, brown-skinned, big-eared people surged around the vast open area. This was a cargo bay with stacks of containers ready for transport, not a luxury passenger dock with padded chairs and concessions. The people milled around and around, jabbering in their ancient language they’d never allowed another race to speak. Few ever heard it.
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