by Jaleta Clegg
"I have the nerve to show up here?"
"Everyone knows what you really are," she said.
"Pity they don't know what you are." I was determined not to lose my temper with her. It wasn't worth it.
"Vance is mine." She thrust her face forward.
I smiled, showing lots of teeth. "I pity the poor man who marries you."
She hissed profanity under her breath. Her hand snaked out and slapped me on the face. Startled silence fell around us.
I reached up and touched my stinging cheek. "The last person who slapped me died for it," I said levelly.
She stared at me, trying to be angry, but I saw fear in her eyes. I'd shot and killed people and she saw it in my face. She glanced down at my uniform.
"Charise, let's go," one of her friends said. She let her friend tug her away from me.
"I say, that was not sporting of her," a man near me observed. "She wants a fight."
"I don't fight amateurs," I said. "Besides, there are probably laws against it."
"The old Enforcers creed?" The man wore a uniform, silver with blue trim, a medic.
"Something like that." I watched Charise and her red dress disappear into a hallway across the reception room.
I was saved from more conversation by a fanfare of trumpets. The Emperor was announced. He came through a set of doors, waving and smiling. A plump woman on his arm smiled brightly and waved a hand sporting several rings.
"The Empress Josephine," Vance said behind me. "Max's mother."
"You just missed Charise."
"I saw her." He glanced down. "Your face is a bit red."
"She slapped me. Should I have called her out for a duel or something?"
He laughed and put his arm around my waist. I leaned against him.
The Emperor was on a platform above the rest of us. A delegation of men stood around him. A man came from the audience, walking slowly up the stairs. He knelt in front of the Emperor for a ceremony involving speeches that I ignored.
The man stood back up to polite cheers from the crowd. It was not seemly to shout in public, not for the cream of society.
The men on the platform shuffled to one side. A new group joined the Emperor, these in Patrol dress uniforms. Vance shifted behind me.
"I wonder what the High Command is doing here," he muttered.
"Lowell isn't here," I said. There were eight men on the platform, none that I knew. Lowell was wanted for treason. Again.
"It has come to my attention," the Emperor said, his voice echoing, "we have overlooked someone. Tonight we present to you one of the heroes of the Empire."
I smothered a yawn. This promised to be boring and I saw no sign of a food table tonight. Vance nudged me forward.
"Admiral Dace," the Emperor said, his eyes finding me unerringly in the crowd.
They were waiting for me, I realized with a sudden shaking of nerves. The crowd turned to look at me. They moved apart, opening a walkway for me. Straight to the Emperor. I walked slowly forward, acutely aware of the attention focused on me.
I walked up the steps, stopping when I faced the Emperor. The Empress gave me a motherly smile and a wink.
"For services rendered to the Empire," the Emperor said formally, "we name you to the Thousand. May you serve long and well."
My knees went weak. I knelt on the platform, my back to the audience. One of the Thousand? The highest award the Patrol offered, given only by the Emperor's hand? Me?
I shook as he placed the medal around my neck and fastened the golden cape to my shoulders. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.
I'd read the history of the Thousand once, back at the Academy. Centuries ago, the Empire was threatened. The palace itself was under attack. The Emperor's guard, the Thousand, defended him until help arrived. They had died, to the last man. Being named as one of the Thousand was the highest honor. I swallowed hard as the Emperor took my hand and pulled me to my feet.
I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I saluted him, one of the very few times in my life I'd truly meant it. The Empress Josephine took my hands and kissed my cheek. The High Command of the Patrol saluted me. I saluted back.
There was polite cheering as I returned to the floor. The Emperor turned to something else. The music started again. I felt the weight of the cape on my back. This had to be some kind of joke. People shook my hand and congratulated me, mostly those in uniform. The women smiled, but I saw the gossip in their eyes.
Max stood next to Vance. He grinned. "Congratulations, Dace. I never suspected. What exactly did you do?"
"It's classified, I'm sure," Vance answered for me. He laughed and took my hand.
"You knew about this," I accused him.
He shook his head. "Not a word, I promise. Although Hester must have been in on it or she would never have let you wear that."
"I think she looks good," Max said and leered.
I laughed. It came out shaky. I still quivered inside.
"You look like you need a nice, relaxing night watching vids," Max said.
Vance groaned. "How about cards instead?"
"Do you play?" Max asked me.
"What game?" I asked.
"Comets." Max grinned.
"What rules?"
"Did you ever meet a spacer who didn't play?" Vance asked Max.
"This way," Max said.
We went to a back room where several dozen men played cards. The women in the room were all older and seemed happy to stay in their corner and gossip. None of them paid me much attention.
"Sit here," Vance said, pushing me into a chair. "We'll be right back."
I watched him cross the room with Max. They stopped to talk to several young men at a table in the corner. They turned to look at me. I put my hands in my lap, suddenly very self-conscious. Paper rattled in my pocket.
I'd forgotten Hester's note. I pulled it out and read it, keeping it under the table. I felt myself go cold.
Watch out for Vance. He knows more than he lets on. Someone close to him is the one you're looking for.
I crumpled the paper, shoving it back into my pocket.
"Something wrong?" Vance asked me.
"Everything's fine," I said brightly.
He knew it wasn't but he said nothing as he and his friends took seats at the table. I watched him shuffle the cards, his fingers deftly flipping them together. I toyed with my medal and felt sick inside.
Chapter 23
Deena Grace sat at her table in her tiny apartment. It was covered with prints of news reports. All of them featured pictures of Dace. Deena shuffled through the headlines again. Lurid tabloid reports of pregnancy and lovers and other scandals stared up at her. And on every page was that face, sometimes smiling but not often. She had secrets hidden in her eyes.
She sighed and tapped the table as she thought. This was the woman Tayvis was involved with? This was the one who had finally stolen his heart only to break it?
From what she could see, even discounting the gossip column penchant for exaggeration, the woman wasn't worth his time. The latest, from just last night, was still on top. They'd named her one of the Thousand. She stood in her uniform, with the Emperor and the High Command, looking aloof, her head held arrogantly high.
Deena sighed again. She'd been following Dace for the last week, looking for something that would tell her what kind of woman she really was. She found nothing, other than the gossip and speculation in the news vids. The woman's only appearances were at public functions. Deena had no way to judge her.
Not that it mattered. Tayvis was long gone. She could spend what money she still had to find him, but then what would she tell him? That the woman he loved was engaged to Vance Shiropi? That she was rumored to have at least a dozen lovers in the Patrol alone?
No, she didn't want to break his heart all over again.
She pushed the papers onto the floor. She sat wrapped in her robe, still sipping her breakfast though it was near noon. The drink had gone cold, but she didn'
t notice. She stared out her kitchen window at the morning traffic flying past.
She should leave Linas-Drias. She hadn't made a vid in over fifteen years. No one recognized her anymore. Once, the fame was enough for her. Everyone knew her name. Everyone recognized her face. It was faded and gone now. She was a footnote, an aging vid star. In the vids, she would always be young and vibrant, but it was illusion.
Her only child was gone. She had hoped to see him marry, to have grandchildren to look forward to someday. His weren't the only dreams in ashes.
She sipped her drink and made a face at the taste. She got up and poured it into the sink. The dark liquid swirled down the drain leaving only a faint stain behind. She had a sister, somewhere. They hadn't talked in decades. Taylissa wanted Dariana to share her fame. Deena tried to explain it didn't work that way. Taylissa left in a huff when Deena wouldn't buy her an audition with a vid producer.
She had no other family. There had been a number of supposed cousins when she first became famous. None of them could prove a family connection. That was one thing that appealed to her when she met Therin. He had family. It was important to him. She loved the warmth of his mother, the friendliness of his sisters and brothers. She had married him, expecting to grow her own family. She had dreams of children, lots of them, and family parties, and her playing the part of mother. She had wanted it with her whole heart.
Things had started to go sour before she even got pregnant. Therin wanted her home, playing the part of dutiful wife. He wanted her out of his spotlight. He looked down on her art, calling it common. He never appreciated what she was.
And then Tayvis had arrived, a squalling bundle with a red face. She had been happy then. But two years passed with no sign of another child. She had an offer to star in a new vid. She didn't accept it for the money, that was never the issue no matter what Therin claimed. She missed the acting, she missed the people she worked with, she missed creating something. Therin gave her a choice, her marriage or her career.
She'd packed up her solemn eyed toddler and left. And that was the end of that dream. She still wanted children, but she contented herself with the thought of grandchildren as she watched Tayvis grow.
She thought she was giving him only the best when she sent him to his father. Therin could give him the advantages she wanted for him. She never dreamed Therin's second wife, Arbella, would treat him the way she had. By the time Deena learned the truth, it was too late. Tayvis was off at military school, only the best, of course. She told herself lies, that it was for his own good. She made vids for a few more years, until the pain grew too much. Her career had been ended by health problems.
They were only a memory now, like her shining fame. By the time she was well again, no one wanted her. She was too old, they told her. She had gracefully bowed out, believing them.
She'd watched Tayvis, proud of him as he graduated first from military school and then from the Academy. He looked good in his uniform. But there was a distance and a sadness in his eyes, he was somewhere she couldn't reach.
She thought this time, when he came back, that she could rebuild a life with him. He was out of the Patrol. But there were shadows in his eyes, worse than before. And an aching loneliness she couldn't banish, except when he talked about Dace, which had been rarely. Then he lit up. He really had loved her. Deena sighed and leaned on the edge of the sink.
What was real and what was pretense? The note, the final note that would have destroyed her son, was false. He'd been gone long before it came. But how much of the news sheets did he read? How much had he heard about her since? If she loved him, as he said, why hadn't she called? It had to be because she really was marrying someone else.
A knock rattled her door. Deena jumped and knocked her cup onto the floor. It hit with a clatter and broke. She picked up the pieces as the knock came again.
"Just a moment," she called as she dropped the pieces in the disposal.
She opened her door. A man stood outside, hands shoved in his pockets as he waited. He wore a hat and dark glasses. His clothes were unremarkable. He'd gone to great lengths to make himself unmemorable.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Dariana Grace?"
"Last time I checked my papers. Who are you?"
The man smiled and took off his glasses. His eyes were bluish gray and looked kind. "Do you mind if I come in? I need to talk to you."
"I'm not in the habit of entertaining strange men in my apartment," she said sharply. "And especially not in my bathrobe."
"I could come back, but I'd prefer sooner rather than later."
"What is this about?"
"The hallway isn't a good place to talk," he said, his smile fading. His eyes were serious now.
She glanced up and down the hall. He was alone, as far as she could tell. She felt a shiver of fear. There was something urgent about him, despite his relaxed air. She felt no threat from him, though. She made her decision. She opened the door.
"Do you mind waiting while I dress?" she asked as he followed her inside.
He closed the door behind him, making sure the lock was on. "Not at all."
She should have been nervous, having him check the lock was suspicious. She had some idea of what Tayvis had been mixed up in the last few years. Maybe he wasn't really out of the Patrol. Maybe he was working undercover. And maybe she was being silly. She left the man sitting in her small front room and went into her bedroom to change out of her robe.
He was leafing through one of her magazines when she returned a few minutes later.
"You still stay in touch with the business?" he asked. "Your last vid came out fifteen years ago. At least here. It finally made it to Ophir only ten years ago. I really enjoyed it. I thought it was one of your best performances. You shouldn't have quit."
"I had reasons," she said. He didn't take the hint.
"Your earlier performances lacked maturity and depth. They were still very good, but the last three were by far your most touching."
"Who are you and why are you here?" It came out shrill. She'd been stalked once, by a fan. It had ended most unpleasantly.
"I do apologize," he said, standing and offering his hand to her. "My name's Henrius Grey, but most people call me Scholar. I work for Commander Lowell. I'm currently looking for your son."
"Tayvis isn't here." She ignored the hand.
"I know that," Scholar said, dropping his hand. "Can you give me any idea where he might be?"
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"Was he in some kind of trouble? I wasn't aware he was on anyone's current hit list."
"Wait just one moment," Deena said, raising one hand. "Why are you looking for him?"
"Because I need his help."
"He doesn't work for the Patrol anymore. You did say you worked for Commander Lowell." She waited for his answer, ready to throw him out if she didn't like it.
"Yes, I do. I work for him personally, not for the Patrol or for his office. He has a vested interest in Tayvis' safety and happiness." Scholar gave her a bright smile. "That didn't work, did it? Look, the truth is that no one knows where Lowell is right now. Lowell didn't send me here for your son. I'm here to keep Dace in one piece. I need Tayvis' help."
She believed him this time, but she wasn't going to break her son's heart again. "He isn't here. And I don't care what that tart needs. She isn't getting him, not after what she did to him."
"This is going well," Scholar muttered. "There's a lot you don't understand. Please, trust me. I can't explain it to you."
"Why not?"
"Because it could compromise people. I don't want to be responsible for getting people killed."
He was deadly serious. She saw it in his eyes. She was startled enough to drop into a chair, staring at him.
"People are getting killed?" It came out too high.
"The Empire is at war, although to judge from what I've seen here so far, you wouldn't know it. And yes, people are dying over it. I'm here to try to
help stop it before it goes too far. I need Tayvis to help me do it."
"How well do you know him?" She wanted something of her son, some part of his life that he hadn't given her.
"Don't believe everything you read in the news. I saw what you've been looking at. I assume he told you something about Dace."
"She broke his heart."
"And he broke hers, so they're even."
She looked up, startled.
"You want the truth? She can't stand Vance. It's all an act. It's absolutely essential no one suspects the real reason she's there. And that's one reason I need to find Tayvis."
"How do you know him?"
Scholar sat in a chair across from her. "Tell me where he is, first."
She shook her head. "I don't know where he went. I don't know much about my own son. I don't even know what friends he'd go to."
"No one here?"
She shook her head again.
"Then that helps narrow it down. When did he leave?"
"Weeks ago. He packed his duffel. He left some things behind." She saw Scholar's sudden interested look. "Nothing important. It was only personal items."
"One moment," Scholar told her. He pulled out a flexible pad and slipped his fingers into it. His hand twitched for a few moments. He slid his hand out and put the pad back into his pocket. "I've got people checking records."
"You think he may be in danger?" she asked in sudden fear.
"At this point, everyone is in danger, but I wouldn't worry too much. He's been in worse. A lot worse."
"That's not a comforting thought."
Scholar laughed. "You're not the person I was expecting. You're much better. You want to hear how I met Tayvis?"
She wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or insulted by Scholar. But she had a day full of lonely nothing in front of her.
"Would you care for something to drink?" she offered. "Or are you in a hurry?"
"Not now," he said. "I really am a fan of yours. I've seen almost all of your vids."
"Now you're resorting to flattery."
