An Indecent Proposal

by Jaleta Clegg

  "Halt!" The shout came from the stairs behind me just as I reached the door.

  I muttered under my breath about the bad timing of the authorities. I turned around. There were a whole group, wearing uniforms, clustered at the top of the stairs. They had weapons aimed at me. I held out my hand, ready to drop my blaster. One of them was trigger happy. His stunner beam caught me full in the face. Every muscle in my body went limp. I slithered to the floor and lay in a tangled heap.

  I had to stare at the light fixture over the door because that's where my head landed. I heard boots clump up to me.

  "She's got a blaster," someone said. I felt it tugged out of my limp hand.

  "Blakeham, you idiot. She isn't the shooter."

  The voice was familiar. I racked my brain trying to place it.

  "Get through that door and find the right person!" The voice sounded angry.

  Big shiny boots stepped over me and slammed through the door. I swore a blue streak in my head. I hated lying in a helpless sprawl. The leader knelt on one knee and rolled me all the way onto my back. Something jabbed my arm, a stimulant to judge by the tingling that spread out from the spot. I groaned as the itching pain woke my muscles up.

  I squinted at the man. The light behind his head blinded me, I couldn't make out his face. He helped me sit and lean against the wall. When he moved back, I could finally see his face.

  "Greyson Hovart," I said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

  He made a face. "I'm supposed to be in charge of security. This place has more holes…" He let his voice trail off. "They refused to let me post guards inside the ballroom. How did you come to be armed? And, for that matter, I thought you were here as a guest, not a guard."

  "It was the Speaker's idea." I rubbed hands that were half numb, half tingling. I was going to pay for the stimulant later. It beat lying on the floor for the next hour until the stunner wore off on its own.

  He picked up my blaster without comment and gave it back to me. I put it away under my dress. He didn't look the least bit surprised.

  He stood and offered me a hand. I took it and let him pull me to my still numb feet. I leaned on the wall.

  "Did you see who it was?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "I got a glimpse of his face. I didn't recognize him. I think I shot him, though."

  I concentrated on not falling over. Greyson stared down the dark hallway beyond the door, listening to his men thump and bumble their way through a search.

  "He's long gone," I said.

  "I know, but I have to go through the motions. You wouldn't consider working for me, would you, Dace?"

  "I don't think Vance would let me. It wouldn't be socially acceptable. And besides, I'm officially out of the Patrol."

  "Ha! I always knew you were an agent."

  "Not back then, Greyson."

  "I heard rumors about Trythia," he said after a moment of noisy silence. "They said you were there."

  "Vallius was a colony of theirs that failed, mostly because they sabotaged the ship." I didn't want to remember Trythia, but if anyone could understand who hadn't been there, Greyson Hovart would. He'd been a slave on Vallius for years before I got there. "Trythia was a lot worse than Vallius."

  Footsteps came up the stairs, accompanied by a noisy argument.

  "You can't go up there, sir, it isn't safe."

  Vance came up the stairs, trailed by several uniformed guards. The uniforms were heavy on the glitter and gold braid. They were for show, as apparently most of the guards were. Vance ignored the men and almost ran down the balcony.

  "What happened?" he asked me, his face very concerned as he took my hand.

  "One of my idiots shot her," Greyson apologized.

  "He got away," I told Vance. "And no, I don't know who he was, and no, I don't know why he was shooting people. How many did he hurt?"

  "Two minor injuries. Who was his target?"

  "Ask him when someone finds him. I think I got him in his shoulder." I was suddenly very tired. I swayed on my feet.

  Vance caught me, holding me up. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm sick of it all," I said, very softly. I leaned forward against him. It felt good to have someone care about me. It felt good to be held.

  "The rest of the party is canceled," he said.

  He led me away. Greyson said something about talking to me later. It sounded official. I felt bad about that. Greyson would be a good friend to have, but in my position, I couldn't afford friends.

  Vance took me back to our suite of rooms. Iniuri was there, along with a full contingent of security guards. I mumbled answers to his questions and retreated into my room.

  I slept with the blaster under my pillow.

  Chapter 28

  Tayvis tugged his collar straight. The uniform was all too familiar. He wore no insignia, Rik had left that deliberately vague. The rest of the crew seemed to accept him, although there were whispers and glances that followed him through the ship. So far, he hadn't had to give any orders. He didn't know if they would be obeyed.

  The ship was underway, leaving Jerikon for Larranais. They had sent seven more ships back to Besht under guard. Five had escaped. Tayvis shifted in his seat, watching the crew around him. Rik sat in the captain's seat, talking shift orders with his second. With each ship they confiscated, some of the crew was replaced with crew from the private ships, although Tayvis noticed Rik was careful to keep them to a minimum on his own ship. They were given positions that were noncritical, ones that had no access to the ship's com or navigation units or weapons.

  The ship slid through the jump to hyperspace. The bustle on the bridge slowed. Rik finished and leaned back with a sigh. He glanced at Tayvis and gave him a grin.

  "I should make you duty roster commander, I hate it." He shifted his look behind Tayvis. "Yes, Commander?"

  Tayvis felt the hair on the back of his neck crawl at the suddenly tense silence. He stayed in his seat, watching Rik's face.

  "You are relieved of command," Rik was informed by his gunnery officer. The man stepped around to the front where Tayvis could see him. There were a dozen other men behind him carrying weapons.

  The bridge crew continued with their jobs. Interesting, Tayvis thought. It was mutiny, but they were in on it. He looked at Rik. The man showed no surprise. He'd suspected this was coming. He smiled, seemingly relaxed and at ease.

  "Don't you want to talk this over?" Rik asked Zubaida, the gunnery officer.

  "We've already talked," Zubaida answered. "The three crew members who protested are in the brig. You and your friend," he waved the stunner at Tayvis, "will be joining them."

  "What are you planning on doing?" Rik asked. "Defecting to the Federation?"

  "We don't like what's happening, taking ships from people. Most of us have family involved. They're starving on some of the worlds, and we keep taking the ships away. How long before they start shooting at us?"

  "I don't like it either," Rik said. "But I have my orders."

  "And you'll blindly follow them, but we won't." Zubaida leveled his weapon at Rik's head. "Others have left, we can, too."

  "You can do more good here," Rik said.

  Zubaida took a step back in surprise.

  "You think I'm blindly following my orders?" Rik pressed. "How many ships have escaped? How many times have I ordered you to shoot them down? Those were my explicit orders. I chose not to enforce them. The ships we've sent to Besht haven't all arrived. Most of them went to other destinations first, with their cargoes intact."

  Zubaida lowered his weapon. The other officers behind him muttered to each other.

  "Flanigan needs to be stopped," Rik said, speaking the treasonous words aloud. "But we can't stop him if we run away."

  "What are you saying?" Zubaida asked.

  The bustle on the bridge had long since ceased. All officers were watching and listening. Tayvis suspected the com officer had turned on the shipwide broadcast.

  "That I'm not as blind a
s you supposed," Rik snapped. "Listen to me. You aren't the only ones to feel this is wrong. That Flanigan's orders are wrong. We aren't the only Patrol ship that isn't enforcing his orders to the letter. Others have mutinied and been relieved of command. We need to stay, and work from within the Patrol to bring Flanigan down. Otherwise, we are going to be caught in a shooting war with the Federation."

  There were more mutters. Zubaida holstered his stunner. "You're talking treason," he said to Rik.

  "Not to the Empire, only to the High Command," Rik said.

  "And what of him?" Zubaida pointed at Tayvis. "Who is he and why is he on this ship?"

  "He isn't Flanigan's spy," Rik said. He looked over at Tayvis. "Do you want to tell them who you work for or shall I?"

  "As I told you before, I'm officially out of the Patrol," Tayvis said evenly. "But you wouldn't listen."

  "He works for High Commander Grant Lowell," Rik said.

  The muttering stopped. The rest of the officers relaxed and put their weapons away.

  "So you're working with us?" Zubaida asked.

  "If it means stopping a war and keeping innocent people alive, yes," Tayvis answered.

  "Well put," Rik said. He turned to his navigation officer. "Where are we really headed?"

  The woman jumped nervously. She glanced at Zubaida before answering. "A waystar."

  "They gave us the coordinates on Jerikon," another woman said. "The merchants have been using them to avoid us."

  "How did you convince them to trust you?" Rik asked. "We are Patrol. We are the ones confiscating their ships."

  "My brother," the woman said. "He's cargomaster for one of the independent ships. They have a whole network. They're smuggling food across the border."

  "Good for them," Rik said. "How can we help?"

  It was almost funny, Tayvis thought as he leaned back and watched Rik organize a mutiny on his own ship. Rik knew a lot more than he let on. And so did his crew. Within the hour they had a plan drawn up that involved not just their own ship, but a dozen other Patrol cruisers. Rik had laid the groundwork months before. Flanigan wasn't going to get the ships he wanted. They would keep mysteriously escaping the net set to catch them.

  It was also clear that no one really believed it was the Federation shooting up ships. The rumors were that the crime syndicates were grabbing for power. They had ships, ones that could pass for Patrol. Admiral Flanigan, for whatever reason, was helping them.

  A third of the crew would swap places with crew on other ships. With Flanigan's orders, it was easy enough to explain why their crew was so different from the one they'd left Besht with. It was obvious both Rik and Zubaida had spent long hours planning their strategies. It was only a matter of coordinating plans.

  "We need to know where they are," Rik said, referring to the pirates building Patrol ships. "With that information, we could stop them."

  "Why don't you ask Lowell?" Tayvis asked. They turned to look at him. "Didn't you say he was wanted for treason? Again."

  "You were involved the last time, weren't you?" Rik asked. "I heard about that."

  "Yes, I didn't arrest him. Don't ask me details and I won't have to shoot you."

  "You trust him?" Zubaida asked Rik.

  "Yes." It left no room for misinterpretation.

  "And you know Commander Lowell?" Zubaida turned to Tayvis.

  "Don't ask me to contact him," Tayvis said. "It's personal," he added when they started to question him.

  "Then where do you want to go?" Rik asked. "Zubaida has the contacts with the crews and with the independents. I'll find Lowell. I won't be questioned if I don't show up on time."

  "Send me to the Federation," Tayvis said.

  "Why?" Zubaida was still suspicious.

  "Because I know people there. I worked with them before they were the Federation. I can get your messages across."

  "We don't need the Federation on this," Rik objected. "We can handle it ourselves."

  "You need the Federation, because without them, some idiot like Flanigan is going to start a war. They need to know what's happening. And besides, more than half of the ships are Federation now, both Patrol and freighter. You also need a contact in the Gypsies."

  Rik and Zubaida traded looks that said Tayvis was insane.

  "No one gets inside the Gypsy loop unless they are Gypsy," Zubaida said.

  "No contacts in your crew?"

  "Not that will admit it," Zubaida answered.

  "Then you're in luck. I happen to know some Gypsies quite well. The trick is going to be finding them." Tayvis wasn't looking forward to facing Jasyn, not without Dace on the ship. Jasyn would have too many questions he didn't know how to answer. But if anyone could tell the Gypsies what to do, Jasyn could.

  "Now I know you're lying," Rik said. "Gypsies don't deal with the Patrol."

  "It's personal," Tayvis said.

  "And one of these days, you are going to tell me. And then maybe I'll forget all about Kluger Outpost." Rik's smile was teasing.

  "Maybe someday I will," Tayvis said evenly. About the time the stars burn out, he added silently to himself.

  "Then it's settled," Rik said. "At the waystar, we swap people and information. I keep looking for Lowell. Zubaida will coordinate with the non-Patrol ships. And you," he looked over at Tayvis, "will find a way into the Federation and make contacts there. And if you are very lucky, you will contact the Gypsies and see what they can bring into this, if anything."

  "And what is our purpose?" Tayvis asked. "What are you trying to accomplish? Are you trying to keep things the way they are?"

  "We're trying to stop the crime syndicates and keep trade moving and keep people from starving," Zubaida said.

  "And keep Flanigan from getting us all killed," Rik added.

  "That's clear enough. Who's going to work out a trade agreement with the Federation?"

  Zubida scuffed his foot on the floor.

  "None of us have the authority to enforce any agreements," Tayvis said. "Someone needs to go to the Council of Worlds and tell them what's going on out here."

  "You have someone in mind?" Rik asked.

  Tayvis shook his head.

  "Then we'll keep looking until we find someone," Rik said. He turned to the crew. "Does anyone object? Speak now and we'll find somewhere to leave you behind with no hard feelings. Betray us to Flanigan and you'll wish you had gone out the airlock right now." He waited.

  Silence was his only answer.

  "Then so be it," he said. "As of this minute, we are all considered traitors and mutineers if anyone learns what we're doing. But it's for the good of the people of the Empire."

  "And the Federation," Zubaida added.

  "And the Federation," Rik echoed.

  The cheering started raggedly, a few voices raised in a shout. The rest of the crew joined in. The sound echoed through the halls of the cruiser. Tayvis sat and listened and wondered if they were all going to be shot as traitors. Not that it mattered to him.

  Chapter 29

  I stood at the window and watched rain dribble from gray clouds. The fabled blue of Perlion's skies was absent.

  The city was in shock, if one could believe the news vids, over the shooting at the reception. My role in the whole affair had been downplayed to the point that almost no one mentioned it. I folded my arms around myself, watching the rain.

  I felt cold inside. What was the purpose behind the attack? Whoever the assassin was, he was a terrible shot. Not that I'd been much better. The little blaster hit wide. I still wore it, tucked inside the loose blouse I wore. It was a comforting weight at my waist.

  So why shoot up the party? To make a statement? If the intent had been to kill someone, they'd failed miserably. The two people hit had seemed to be more of accidents than deliberate shots. They were both minor burns, not direct hits.

  I rubbed goose bumps on my arms. The politics of the situation were deeper than I wanted to dig. If I'd caught him last night, I could have dumped him on the Pa
trol and called myself done.

  No, to be honest, I would have known I hadn't dug deep enough yet. There was a plot to destroy the Empire and it was my job to find out who was involved. Although, so far, I'd been as effective as the assassin last night. I hadn't found anything about anyone. I'd only made myself a public target for gossip.

  I stiffened as the thought echoed in my head. I was a target. I was set up in such a way that the public had to take notice. Every time I started to fade in the news vids, something else happened to put me back smack in the middle of the front page. Who wanted me so visible? I didn't think it would be Leighton or Maharta. Wasn't I supposed to be working quietly? Or was I? What was the real purpose in asking me to spy? Their whole story about me being the only one in any position to find anything was ludicrous, now that I really thought about it.

  What about Scholar? He could find more information in ten minutes than I could find in a week. He still worked for Lowell. Why pick on me?

  "Dace," Vance called from across the room. "The luncheon is in half an hour."

  I didn't move. I wanted to trust someone, I needed to talk to someone. But the suspicious words of the note kept running through my head. I didn't dare confide in him, or his father.

  There was always Greyson Hovart. I trusted him. But I hadn't seen him in over a year. I didn't know where his loyalties were. I didn't want to put him in a position of compromising someone he shouldn't.

  Vance put his arms around me. "You're cold. You've been standing at the window for an hour."

  I leaned back into him, feeling his warmth and the solidness of him holding me. "I've been thinking."

  "Must be bad, if I read your face correctly. We're supposed to be at a luncheon. You should get ready."

  "Can't we tell them I'm hysterical? Traumatized by last night? Most of the other women are claiming to be prostrate in fear."

  He brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. "I doubt they'd believe you. The gossip mill is running overtime trying to decide if they really saw you with a gun."