by Jaleta Clegg
"I don't have any other information about him." That admission hurt. I loved him, I should know all about him. "He was Patrol."
"That may help."
"He was also here, at that party."
She lowered the comp, studying me.
"Vance surprised me with his announcement," I blurted out. "He didn't ask me first."
"Ah." I didn't have to say anymore, she understood all too well.
I shoved myself out of the chair and stumbled across the room to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me before I gave in to despair. Vance had ruined my life. Six days ago. I hoped Tayvis was still here, that I could find him and explain. Six days was a long time.
I stripped off the nightgown and looked honestly at myself in the mirror. I was skinny, bony, too thin. The newest scar was hidden under a thin flexible layer of false skin. I prodded it. It was tender but not as much as before. The skin and muscles pulled under the coating. I shrugged. It was only another scar now. I had rows of them on my back, from beatings when I was slave on Trythia. I had various others, from being shot and beaten by a lot of other people. None of them were as painful as the scars inside.
I filled the huge tub and floated in the water, wallowing in the wastefulness of it. I couldn't stay long. I was impatient to see what the woman, Hester, had found. I wrapped a huge towel around myself and went back into the bedroom.
She had her back to me, talking to someone on the wall screen. She disconnected the line and turned to face me.
"I took the liberty of ordering a selection of basic clothing for you. Perhaps later if you are well enough, we can go shopping." She smiled as if she were offering me a treat.
"I'd rather hit myself with a stick." I hated clothes shopping for myself, although I loved shopping for just about anything else. No, it wasn't the shopping, it was the bartering. I missed that almost as much as I missed Jasyn and my ship.
Hester didn't share my sentiments. She raised one eyebrow.
"Why do people keep doing that?" I asked. "Is there some kind of social class where they teach you to do it?"
"Do what?" Hester asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Raise your eyebrows. It probably goes with the class on buying clothes and knowing what to wear when. I'm absolutely hopeless at it. I never thought I'd need it."
"Surely you knew someday you would no longer be Patrol," Hester said. She busied herself arranging items on a dressing table. "Although always having a uniform to wear must simplify things. But don't you change between dress uniforms and everyday ones?"
"I don't know," I answered. Hester stopped fussing with things to stare at me. "I wasn't ever regular Patrol. About the only time I've ever worn a uniform since the Academy was when Vance pulled me out of the hospital on Besht."
Hester straightened, a hairbrush in one hand. She stared at me with her perfect features and her large amber eyes. My face flushed.
She threw her head back and laughed. Her teeth were white and even. Her laugh was rich, full throated and sincere. I stood awkwardly in my towel and wondered what made me so funny.
"You are not what anyone expected," she said when she finally stopped laughing.
"That's what Vance said."
"Where are you from, originally?" she asked as she turned back to her task of laying out toiletries for me.
"Tivor," I said suddenly tired and defensive. I waited for her to laugh again. She didn't.
She glanced over her shoulder. "One of the outer planets, correct?"
"Not anymore. Last I heard, Tivor was part of the Federation." I absently rubbed the stiffness in my side.
"How did you get shot?" she asked, her voice low and inviting confidences.
"On Tivor."
If Hester worked for Iniuri Shiropi, she had to have high security clearance. I never understood Lowell's need to keep my life classified.
"The new leader of the government decided she didn't like me."
I sat on the edge of the bed. I was tired and hurting, and not because of being shot. I wanted life to be uncomplicated. The whole situation would have been hilarious, if someone were there who could share the joke. My father, Darus, would laugh himself sick over it. Clark would grin and tease me mercilessly. Jasyn would cluck her tongue and tell me I wore the wrong thing and ask me why I never combed my hair. I missed them, more than I could admit to anyone but myself. I missed my cat, Ghost. I needed her. She didn't care about the Emperor. She didn't care what I wore. All she wanted was me to scratch under her chin.
"You look sad," Hester said, dragging me away from my wanting.
"I don't belong here." I wrapped my arms around myself and hugged the fluffy towel closer.
"Vance would argue with that."
I bit my lip to keep from saying what I really felt about Vance. She read it in my face anyway. I couldn't hide anything. It was all too close to the surface. I was still too fragile.
"Who is this Malcolm Tayvis you asked me to track down for you?"
"The man I should be marrying," I said before I could stop myself. "I thought he was dead. I never expected to see him at a party."
She patted my shoulder sympathetically. "So tell Vance it was a mistake."
I liked Hester, but it would never work, not until I had a chance to talk to Tayvis. Kicking Vance was very appealing. But Vance was fast and he was good. I wouldn't have a chance of beating him in a fight, not for another couple of weeks at least. By then, I was afraid it would be much too late.
A low chime sounded in the room. Hester crossed the room to the door, every move graceful. She retrieved a package from the hall outside. I heard her talking to someone, a murmur of sound. She closed the door and brought the package to me.
"Clothing, I hope you like the colors." She put the package on the bed beside me. "Do you wish help dressing?"
I shook my head. I was feeling a lot better, physically. I was still sick inside about everything that had happened.
"I put a few people on the search for Malcolm," she told me.
"He hates his name," I said. "Everyone who knows him calls him Tayvis."
"They'll find him, if anyone can, and then you can straighten out this misunderstanding."
She patted my shoulder before she left. I wanted to curl up and cry. That would accomplish exactly nothing. I had to do what I could to find Tayvis. Six days had already been wasted.
I opened the package and pulled out the clothes. They were all made of fabric much finer than any I'd ever owned. There was some lace, not much, of a quality that made me swallow hard. It had to have cost a small fortune, but I had Lowell's money to burn. I pulled on the lacy underthings and the silky undertunic. Hester had chosen golds and browns and russets. I did like the colors. The leggings were loose, made of a thick brown knit that was warm but light. The undertunic was a burnished gold. There was a long outer robe patterned with red, brown and gold leaves woven into the fabric. I ran my hand over the rich pattern. Hester bought me slippers, not boots, but she wouldn't know better.
I looked at myself in the mirror by the dressing table. The clothes were very flattering. From the neck down, I looked like a member of the rarified upper layers of society. From the neck up, I looked like myself. My hair was scruffy, tangled and shaggy. I sat at the dressing table and did what I could with the brushes and combs and other items Hester had left out for me. There was even a makeup kit. I fingered it and decided against using it. I'd made enough concessions for one day.
The door opened. Hester came back in, carrying a covered tray. The smells from it were heavenly. My stomach growled. She put it on a different table.
"You look much better," she said. "I like those colors on you. They bring out the highlights in your hair."
"I wasn't aware I had any."
She smiled again, amused. She uncovered the tray. "Late breakfast or early lunch. Speaker Shiropi regrets that he is busy today. He would like you to join him tomorrow for lunch, though."
"I would like to thank him for his hosp
itality," I said as formally as I knew how.
"He would also like to know how you came to meet Vance. He is most curious about your engagement." Her look said that Iniuri Shiropi was no fool. He knew something was up between me and Vance and it wasn't what everyone seemed to assume.
"I would be happy to tell him everything." Lowell could put his paranoid top secret clearance where the sun didn't shine. If Iniuri Shiropi didn't have high enough clearance to know, nobody did.
"Good," Hester answered. "I will inform him. Do you wish to go shopping this afternoon?"
"Can we stop by the Patrol offices? I have a few favors to call in."
"Certainly. I will make arrangements for transportation. Will a flitter be acceptable?"
Did she expect me to fly one? I'd never been certified on a flitter and the traffic on Linas-Drias was horrendous.
"All flitters have a central control that does the actual flying," she explained. "All you have to do is tell it where you wish to go. I can also make arrangements for your account to transfer to a personal spending account."
I nodded. As long as I could stop by the Patrol offices, I didn't really care where we went or what we did. I didn't even care that Hester was probably assigned to stick with me wherever I went.
"Do you have preferences which stores we visit?"
"I wouldn't know where to start, wherever you recommend."
"Very good. I'll arrange for privacy."
"Why the privacy?"
"Do you really wish to speak with members of the media? Your engagement to Vance is a major source of speculation. So far, they have his story, which is that you are not feeling well. The public is curious why the two of you are never seen together."
"No, I don't want to talk to anyone." Another complication I hadn't thought about. Vance, being one of the two most eligible men in the Empire, would be the center of speculation, especially after his performance at the party. I wondered if it would have been any different with the other most eligible man. Max would at least have been more courteous. No, it would have been worse. Getting engaged to the heir to the Empire's throne would most definitely tweak the media's interest. I decided being involved with Vance was bad enough.
"We should be ready to leave within the hour," Hester said.
She left me to finish eating in solitude. I wondered if it was all I was going to get for a while, both food and information. And then I decided it probably didn't matter. I was stuck here whether I wanted to be or not.
Chapter 12
The flitter was a luxury model. The seats were soft, plush, and molded themselves around the passengers. The controls were basic, though, emergency systems designed only to be used to land the flitter. Anyone who could read, even a child, could land it safely. Everything else was computerized, linked into the planetary datanet.
I rode with my nose glued to the window which was polarized. No one outside could see in, but I had a clear view of everything below and to the sides. Linas-Drias was incredible. The entire surface of the planet, including under the oceans along the shorelines, was a vast city network. The occasional park broke the stretch of buildings. Most buildings had internal botanical gardens where fresh food was grown. The whole thing was integrated in an intricate web of life. The population of Linas-Drias was somewhere upwards of forty billion. Staring at the swarm of flitters surrounding us I could believe it. Buildings soared to enormous heights, seeming to defy gravity to reach almost to the clouds.
We were on our way to Patrol headquarters. Not just a base or a sector building, but the headquarters of the entire Patrol. It was a huge complex, a block of dark buildings separated from the rest of the city by a narrow strip of greenery. Our flitter deposited us on the plascrete in front of the entrance.
Hester hesitated, one hand on the door handle. "Do you want company?"
I shook my head. "I'd better go in alone." I didn't want a witness if Lowell was inside.
"I'll wait here," she said, despite the signs warning that the area was not a parking zone. I figured we were in the personal flitter of the Speaker, no traffic enforcer would dare ticket it.
"I may be a while."
Hester just smiled. She had a tiny hand comp. She tapped the screen, gently dismissing me. I took the hint.
The lobby of the building was enormous. The Patrol shield glowed in the air above the exact center, rotating slowly. I counted four guards standing like statues against the walls. The place was quiet, almost solemn. The Empire was at war, but you would never have guessed it from the lack of activity in the room.
The receptionist at the main desk was talking on a com, her privacy shield raised. I heard nothing even when I was only a few feet away. She finished her call and turned her attention on me.
Her eyes were like blue ice. Her hair was cropped short, a pale blond that looked like frost on her head. She sat behind the massive desk, impregnable in her fortress. Her silver uniform was pressed and creased to razor sharpness.
"Yes?" It was coldly polite, a clear message that I was a civilian, or so she thought, and as such I had no business in the heart of Patrol territory.
"I want to talk to Commander Grant Lowell," I said, leaning on the desk. I figured he had to have an office here. He was one of the High Command, one of fewer than ten who commanded the vast resources of the Patrol.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but I'm sure he'll see me."
"I'm sorry, Commander Lowell is not available." She turned her back.
"Then I want to talk to his aide."
"Gentle One," she said, addressing me as if I were one of the higher social classes though her voice was acid, "this is not a social venue. We are not in the business of entertaining."
There was an id scanner on the desktop. I flattened my hand on it. "Admiral Dace, id confirmation." Lights blinked. The receptionist watched her screen, hidden underneath the edge of the desk. I watched her face go from icy rudeness to almost civility.
"Admiral Dace," she addressed me, her tone one of almost respect, "you are not listed on active duty." It was an accusation. How dare I fool her by impersonating a civilian. I wondered what she'd do if she knew the truth.
"Medical leave," I said.
"Your records show medical discharge," she pointed out.
"I work for Lowell. My records don't usually show the truth, at least not the unclassified files."
She twitched, as if I'd verbally slapped her. I was losing patience. My side was stiff, even if it didn't hurt anymore it was still uncomfortable. I was tired of standing, being grilled by a secretary who could give frozen methane lessons about being cold.
"Where's Lowell?" I asked.
Her face tightened in disapproval. "Commander Lowell is not presently on planet," she said, stressing his rank.
"Then I want to talk to his aide, whoever that may be," I snapped at her.
"One moment," she said and flipped her privacy shield on. She turned her back to me so I couldn't try to read her lips.
I drummed my fingers on the desk. It annoyed her. Her shoulders twitched every few seconds. She finally turned back around to face me.
"Commander Leighton will see you." She flicked a finger at one of the guards. "You will be escorted to his office."
"Thank you." I didn't mind the escort, I had no idea where to even begin to look for Lowell's office in the huge edifice. I turned my back on her and followed the guard.
We passed through a set of double doors into a hushed hallway. Thick carpet underfoot muffled all sound. The walls were lined with pictures, memorials to heroes long forgotten. The guard pushed open another set of doors. Sound punctured the silence. Here, in the back hallways of the complex, was frantic activity. People in uniform moved purposefully in every direction. It was easier to believe the Empire was at war.
I dogged my guide's heels through a maze of halls and lifts. He didn't use the stairs, a small favor I was grateful for. We worked our way through the bustle to a back building and a cor
ner office high on one side. He knocked on the door, saluted me, then left.
I waited a long, uncertain moment. I was considering chasing after my guide when the door finally opened. I found myself staring at a harried man. His thinning hair was ginger colored. His eyes were a sharp grayish blue. He looked me over, frowning.
"You're Admiral Dace? You stick out like a sore thumb," he continued without waiting for me to answer. "Come in before you attract more attention." He took my arm and pulled me into the office.
I hadn't noticed anyone paying attention to me. Most glanced at the clothes I wore and dismissed me as nothing important. If I'd been wearing my uniform I'm sure I would have gotten a lot more scrutiny. I didn't point it out to the man.
A woman sat on his desk, swinging one leg. She wore a black uniform, open at the collar so I couldn't see her rank. Her dark hair was twisted up in a bun and had pens stabbed into it. Wisps dangled free, curling around her head. She looked me over, her dark eyes sharply appraising.
"Commander Leighton," the man said, shoving his hand at me. "But you can call me Lee, everyone else does."
The woman slid lithely off the desk. "Commander Maharta," she introduced herself. "Seya, to those who dare." Her smile was all teeth. "I hear you claim to be the legendary Dace."
That floored me for a moment. "Legendary?"
"Commander Lowell talks about you," Lee said, "that's all Seya means." He shot her a glare full of unspoken communication. Seya shrugged and prowled to the windows at the far end of the room.
"What can I do for you, Admiral?" Lee asked. He waited politely, hands clasped loosely on the desk in front of him.
I wasn't sure what to ask. I had been counting on Lowell himself being here. I'd never met these people. I didn't know if I could trust them or not. I hesitated, watching Seya Maharta prowl around the back of the office, like a predatory cat hunting a mouse. Like my cat, Ghost.
She stopped, studying me, lounging against the wall, seemingly at ease. She smiled again, all teeth, but with a flash of good humor. "She doesn't trust us, Lee."
"No surprise there," Lee answered. "I wouldn't trust us, either. Or anyone else."
