by Jaleta Clegg
Roderick's mansion was an hour's flight away. Clark flew the flitter. Beryn sat up front with him. Paltronis sat behind the pilot's seat, on the floor, and checked and rechecked the blaster. Lowell crouched over his plans, tapping the com against his bottom lip. He kept the com on standby, we didn't want anyone picking up his conversations with Scholar.
I leaned against a crate of hastily assembled cargo and picked imaginary lint off the gray suit. The closer we got to Roderick's estate, the more knots I had in my belly. Something was not right. I tried to convince myself I was just nervous. I failed. Something was going to go wrong, I knew it. I didn't say anything to Lowell or the others, it wouldn't have done any good. The plans were set, we didn't have a backup plan because nothing else would have worked. I had to trust my luck to carry us through.
Roderick's mansion was a sprawling complex of glass and metal scattered through an artificial forest. The trees were too manicured, too carefully natural. Flowers bloomed in the open sunny stretches. I saw glimpses out of the windscreen as we set down. It was early morning. Lowell assured us it was the best time. The fewest people would be around to interfere. From what Scholar could find, Roderick was not in residence. Only his younger sister, barely twenty, was there keeping house for him. With luck, we would only have to deal with the housekeeper. The staff was minimal, three at most. We hoped.
Beryn opened the hatch for us. Clark slumped down in the pilot's seat, giving a good impression of a pilot too good to help with the cargo. The plan was for him to stay with the flitter, ready to run if necessary. Lowell and I shifted the boxes to the back while Paltronis got a sled out. We had three boxes, mostly empty. We made a show of how heavy they were supposed to be as we lifted them out and stacked them on the sled.
The morning sun was barely over the horizon. The cook, a stout middle aged man, opened the back door and frowned. "Who are you?"
"Delivery," Beryn said, moving to block his view of the rest of us. "We got three boxes for a Guntur Ziiewaa. That you?"
"Never heard of him," the cook said. He shifted closer to Beryn, trying to read the clipboard Beryn held.
"He's supposed to be here," Beryn said, sounding exasperated. He read off the address. "That's here, right?"
"You got the address right but not the man," the cook said.
Beryn swore. "Now I have to go back to the office and complain about the mixup. It's going to take all morning. I got other deliveries." He turned his back on the cook who was trying even harder to peer over his shoulder.
That was our signal. Lowell moved out of Beryn's shadow. He had one of his little stunners. He shot the poor cook before the man realized something was up. His eyes rolled up in his head and he dropped to the ground, flaccid and unmoving.
"Put him back in his kitchen," Lowell ordered Paltronis.
She heaved his shoulders up and hauled him into the house. We followed, leaving Beryn behind with the fake cargo. He and Clark would watch the entrances and warn us if anyone else came.
Paltronis rolled the cook into a back corner of the room where he was not likely to be noticed. Lowell waited in the middle of the room, sampling pastries the cook was in the process of icing. I crossed the room and eased the door open.
"No more than six people in the whole building, judging by the pastries," Lowell said behind me.
"Which way should we go?" I asked, stepping into the empty hall.
"Scholar couldn't get updated floor plans," Lowell answered. "I'd guess somewhere on the bottom floor. We're looking for an office."
"We're just supposed to wander around until we find it or until someone finds us?"
Lowell shrugged. "It should work. It has before."
I didn't say what I thought of Lowell. Paltronis moved past me, drifting down the hallway as silently as Ghost. She glanced into open doors as she went. We followed as quietly as we could. The rooms were empty of people.
The mansion was huge, hallways led everywhere. Sometimes they were glassed, sometimes solid. We got views of trees and meadows through the windows. The solid halls were blank vidscreens. I guessed they had other views when they were turned on.
Room followed room with no order that I could tell. We found a series of what looked like sitting rooms. Lots of chairs and couches and big windows and not much else filled the rooms. Another long passage took us into another area lined with doors. All the doors were shut.
Paltronis eased one open. It was a huge bedroom, sparsely furnished and obviously not in use. There were at least a dozen more closed doors. We checked each one. Each room looked empty, unoccupied.
I opened the door of the last one, expecting to find another unoccupied room. The bed was rumpled, the covers half on the floor. Clothes draped over several chairs. A tray of mostly eaten food, from last night to judge by the crusty look, was on a table near the door. A young woman, with pale blond hair to her waist and strikingly pale blue eyes turned away from a window to look at me.
I reached for a weapon I wasn't wearing. I expected her to scream, to sound an alarm. She didn't.
"Who are you? Should I call Pietro? No," she shook her head. "I think not." She glided across the room to where I stood in the doorway. She was almost a full head taller than me. Her look took in my shabby gray outfit and scuffed boots. She dismissed me with a flick of one finger. Her gaze traveled beyond my shoulder and her expression lightened. "Grant Lowell," she said, smiling. "You're sooner than I expected, to judge from the way Roderick tore out of here last week."
"Sonja," Lowell greeted her with a nod. His face was set in a vaguely amused expression.
Sonja's smile grew jaded. "You're expecting me to scream, aren't you?" She ignored Paltronis who had drifted behind me, her blaster held low and ready.
"Are you?" Lowell asked.
"You should know me better than that. If I wanted help, I only need to press this button." She held her finger up to the wall near the door. "If I wanted help," she repeated, emphasizing the if.
"You aren't going to turn us in?" Lowell waved us back, his hand low and held where Sonja couldn't see. Paltronis nudged me backwards, into the hall.
"Why should I?" Sonja said. "I agree completely with you. Did you know they are saying you are insane? You drag others into your delusions and make them believe you."
"Do you believe that?" Lowell eased the stunner from his pocket.
"I've seen too much of what my brother is up to," Sonja answered. "He's given his staff orders not to let me leave. Take me with you."
"You're offering to help?" Lowell asked, sliding the stunner back into his pocket.
"Of course. Roddie can't be allowed to succeed. Life would be unbearable. He promised to marry me off to his hunting friend if he did. I know where to find what you're looking for. He recorded every meeting."
"What is your price, Sonja? You don't do anything for free."
"What an unflattering opinion you have of me," she said, her smile unchanged. "I want you to get me away from Roderick, of course. You know what else I want."
"I can't let you work for me," Lowell said, "not the way you want. Maximillius would have my head on a platter."
"He's going to get it anyway, unless I help you."
Lowell sighed. "I'll do what I can, but I won't make promises. I will promise you can leave with us, though."
"To Linas-Drias? It's the only logical place for you to take the information you want. I haven't been to court in years." She stepped past Lowell, slim and graceful, every movement controlled. "His office is this way."
Lowell walked after her, following as if he trusted her. Paltronis fell into step behind him, but she was still on alert, her blaster held ready. I walked behind her, I didn't think I had much choice. I felt more uneasy the farther we went. I felt as if I were walking into a trap.
Sonja led us through the deserted mansion. We passed a lot of doors and hallways, I was lost within moments. She finally opened a door at the very end of a long hall. I expected a closet or stairs or somethi
ng other than the room we found.
It appeared completely open to the outdoors. Trees rustled overhead. Birds chirped. Sunlight dappled carpet that mimicked moss. A stream murmured in the distance. It was an incredible illusion. Sonja noted the look on my face and spoke a command. The scene rippled and changed. We were now undersea. Fish swam around and over us. The only objects that remained unchanged were the carpet, desk and chairs. Even the slight breeze changed, smelling of salt water instead of forest.
Lowell hadn't paused to look, unlike me. He was already rifling through the desk.
"Lower left drawer, but it's most likely locked," Sonja said, her ice blue eyes watching me with detached amusement.
"Dace?" Lowell asked.
I crouched behind the desk. The lock was small but sophisticated. I found the right probe and inserted it. The lock had a built in alarm system, keyed to sound if someone tampered with it. I twisted the probe delicately. The lock opened, the alarm stayed off.
Lowell swept up the dozen data cubes inside. "Is there a reader?"
"You don't trust me?" Sonja crossed to the desk, her delicate slippers soundless on the mossy green carpet. She touched the desk. A control panel lit up, glowing just under the surface. "What if he voice coded them?"
"That won't be a problem," Lowell assured her. His hands played over the controls. He set the cubes in double rows on the desk and pulled out his com. "Ready?" he said into the com.
"Set," came Scholar's terse reply.
"Watch for encryption," Lowell said. He set the com over part of the panel and touched more glowing spots. He leaned back in the chair, hands laced over his belly. "What other illusions are programmed?" he asked as if we were on a social visit.
Sonja tilted her head back, her long hair shimmering down her back. It was a pale gold, soft and silky. She spoke another command. We were at the top of a mountain. Steep cliffs of cold gray stone fell away on all sides. She spoke again. We floated above a ringed planet, rotating slowly below us, glowing red and gold.
"He has a dozen more," Sonja informed us. "None that I care much for. This is my favorite." She looked up, where a double moon floated serenely through space.
Lowell's com beeped. He scooped it up and the cubes. "We're done here. Unless there's more?"
Sonja shook her head, still looking overhead. "He keeps few records."
"Is this enough to convict him?" Lowell asked bluntly, holding up the data cubes.
"And his friends."
"Why are you doing this?" I had to ask.
"Because I hate him," she said as if it were the most normal thing to say. "When he's gone, this will be mine. And I can make it what I want. I won't have to be nice to his odious friends, either."
I shivered. I was glad Sonja was working with us, although I wouldn't be surprised if she turned us in. Just for fun.
"Let's go," Lowell said. "Scholar says the Patrol are on the way. He'll try to keep them confused."
Paltronis didn't wait, she was already moving quickly down the hallway. Sonja caught up to her, walking down the hall as if she owned it. Lowell followed. I brought up the rear. I expected someone to sound an alarm any second.
Sonja took us on a different route through the mansion. I got more nervous the farther we went. Something was going to go wrong. I knew it. I kept looking over my shoulder.
The others drew farther ahead. The halls became less fanciful, more utilitarian. We were almost to the back entrance where we'd left the flitter.
Sonja took us through a wide workroom furnished with a large table and a set of tall cabinets. She pushed open a door at the far side. Morning sunlight brightened the room, shining off the tiled floor. "You'll need to hurry. The Patrol came through the front entrance several minutes ago." Her face was cold but amused at our panic.
"That wasn't nice, Sonja," Lowell said as he hurried outside.
Paltronis held the door, waving at me to hurry. I was almost there when the door we'd come through opened again.
"Stop right there." It was a cold order.
"Go," I shouted at Paltronis.
Paltronis slammed the door shut. I heard her shouting at Lowell.
Sonja's pale mouth curved in a smile. "You should have run faster." She paced back into the mansion, her skirt swirling around her legs.
I shifted my gaze.
Tayvis didn't look happy to see me. He had a blaster aimed at me and his face could have frozen methane. His eyes were bleak.
"Move, Dace," he said.
I heard others shouting in the halls behind him. I was blocking the exit.
"No," I said, swallowing hard. I had to stall him long enough for the others to get away.
"Don't make me do this," he said, his voice harsh and thick.
I shook my head. I hated it as much as he did. "Lowell is right, Tayvis. I saw what they were doing on Calloway."
"I have to follow orders. Move," he said coldly.
I shook my head again. I expected him to shoot me. He looked ready to. It wouldn't matter. Not to me. Not anymore.
I heard the shouting grow louder, drowned out by the sound of a flitter taking off in a hurry. Shots echoed outside the door. The flitter engine whined away into the distance. They were gone.
Tayvis lowered his blaster. He moved a step closer to me.
I spread my hands. "I don't have a gun, if that's what you're worried about."
"Do you still have your lockpicks?" He held out his hand. "You don't need more trouble. You're in enough already."
I searched his face, wanting to find some warmth in his eyes. I only saw sadness. I wordlessly handed him my lockpicks. He tucked the tiny wallet into his pocket.
"I have to do this, Dace." He held up a pair of force cuffs.
"I know." This was not the way I wanted it to end. I didn't want it to end at all, but I didn't know how to fix it. We were way beyond saying we were sorry. I held out my hands.
He snapped the cuffs around my wrists. "You're under arrest for treason."
The outer door slammed open behind me. I didn't look. I knew who was out there, more Patrol Enforcers. I stared at the cuffs on my wrists. I thought I couldn't be hurt worse. I was wrong. Tayvis turned away from me.
"The others got away," one of the men behind me said. He reached for my elbow.
"Take her into custody," Tayvis said over his shoulder. "I know where the others are going."
The man tugged my arm, not gently. I bowed my head and walked blindly out into the morning. I didn't care where they took me. Tayvis had turned his back on me. Nothing else would matter, ever again.
Chapter 41
"Prime." The woman bowed, her white robe sweeping over the metal grate that was the floor of the upper levels of the unnamed station. Her silver blond hair covered her face.
The older woman turned from her contemplation of the star outside the viewscreen, an active young star. Radiation danced across the screen in waves of purple light, turning her white robe the color of old blood. "Yes, Tertius?"
"We have word. Babylon is destroyed." She risked a glance at the older woman, her ice blue eyes cold and calculating.
Prime nodded. "Who?"
"Grant Lowell of the Patrol, with the aid of Myriassima. And a woman named Dace."
"What do we know of her? Is she of the Hrissia'Noru?"
Tertius dropped to her knees, lowering her gaze to the floor. "I am sorry, Prime. I have no information on the woman."
"You are forgiven." Prime swept across the room towards the door. "Grant Lowell will be dealt with soon. His days are numbered, along with the Hrissia'Noru and their meddling. Our day approaches. Patience is needed now more than ever."
Tertius cleared her throat. "Sonja has been located."
The older woman gave no indication she had heard, other than a slight tightening of her jaw. She paused with her hand raised to the doorplate. "Send Septimus to retrieve her. It is almost time."
"And Roderick?"
"Let him take the blame. It is too
early for us to show our hand." The door slid open. Prime swept from the room.
Tertius rose to her feet. She watched the star for a long moment, her profile the same sharp eagle's beak of Prime, though younger. Septimus had much to answer for.
Chapter 42
They put me in the back of a Patrol transport and left a guard standing over me. I overheard snatches of their conversations. The Phoenix had slipped away. I heard Tayvis reporting to someone named Vance, but I never saw him. I stared at the floor between my boots.
He'd turned his back on me. He'd walked away without a backwards glance. It really was over. I loved him. I would always love him. But Lowell had managed to come between us. It hurt more than losing Mart.
I sat on the floor of the transport, my knees up and my cuffed hands dangling between them. Why did I always seem to end up like this? It wouldn't matter long. Either Lowell would succeed and I'd be pardoned, maybe, or I'd be found guilty. They still used firing squads for treason.
Time passed. I watched shadows slide across the floor. The rush of people outside slowed and stopped. My guard got me to my feet and herded me out and onto a Patrol shuttle. They were extra careful with me. I always had at least two guards watching me. They didn't let me within arm's reach of their weapons. I didn't even try. What was the point of escaping now?
They took me to a Patrol cruiser in orbit. I was locked in a cell in the brig. They left me cuffed. I spent time lying on the bunk, staring at nothing. They didn't send any kind of lawyer to talk to me. They gave me food and watched me and nothing more.
We made a jump to hyperspace. I couldn't make myself care where they were taking me. I only cried at night, when the lights were dim, with my back turned to my cell, my face to the wall.
Several days passed, how many I don't know. I wasn't counting. I didn't care.
The ship went into orbit and I was transferred to another shuttle. I gave no resistance. I went where I was shoved. The shuttle landed. I got a glimpse of cloudy skies and cold wind as I was hustled into a block of Patrol buildings.
