by Jaleta Clegg
As the daylight faded, I was pacing again, watching the light fade outside. It seemed to take forever. I lay down on the bunk, certain I was never going to be able to sleep. I was wrong. It must have been all the exercise. I dropped off almost immediately.
I woke suddenly, every sense alert. It was deep night. Something was off. I had the fragment of a memory of a sound that shouldn't have been there. I lay still, straining to hear something, anything. It was as dead quiet as always.
No, there was a whisper of a footfall outside my cell. My heart raced. Something was definitely wrong.
The lights suddenly died. The whole cell block plunged into deep darkness. The sky outside was cloudy, no light came through the window. I eased myself into the top bunk as quietly as I could. I heard the faintest whispering out in the hall. I flattened myself against the wall on the upper bunk. It was the only possible place to hide in the cell.
The door of the cell across from me opened with a soft metallic ping. The urgent whispering came again, too quiet to hear words.
My heart was pounding so hard I was shaking. I did my best to keep my breathing quiet. The door to my cell eased open. Two figures slipped inside. They left the door hanging open.
"This is it," one breathed to the other. "You tie the rope, I'll deal with her." He bent over my bunk.
The other man pulled a length of rope from his pocket. I saw the gleam of his teeth as he reached overhead, looking for something in the ceiling he could tie the rope to. I realized what they were doing. They were going to kill me and make it look like a suicide. I had to get out, I had to get help. Except the only possible source of help were my guards. I wasn't sure how much help they'd give.
"She isn't here," man number one said, straightening up.
I didn't wait for him to find me. I grabbed the outside edge of the bunk and swung my whole body out and down. My feet caught the man tying the rope full in the face. He fell backwards, his arms flailing as he crashed through the door into the bathroom. I caught the other man in the chest with my knees. He stumbled backwards, gasping for breath. I let my momentum carry me over the top of him and through the open door.
I staggered into the wall across the hall. I caught myself and pushed off, towards the guardroom at the far end of the hallway.
I heard cursing behind me. I slammed into the doors at the end of the hall. They were locked, of course. It was a jail. The only way through the double doors was if the guards on either side pushed the right buttons. Or if someone had an override key.
So how had my attackers gotten in? Were they paying off one of the guards? Did they steal an override key?
I didn't have time for questions. They were coming for me. And I was not going to get the door open. I couldn't see the guard at the other station. No lights showed through the glass door.
I ducked to the left, into the shadows of the guard station on this side of the door. A monitor high on the wall gave off a dim gleam, enough to see the outlines of things, but no more.
They came through the doorway, reaching for me even as I threw myself across the room at the guard's console. There had to be an alarm, a light switch, something that might help me. I landed across the console, bruising my middle. I frantically started hitting switches and buttons, running both hands over the bank of controls.
They were right behind me. I scrambled around the console. My foot stepped on something warm and soft. I almost threw up. It had to be the guard, shoved back under his own console. I didn't know if he was alive or dead. I ducked low and kept hitting buttons and tried to ignore the guard under my feet. His breath warmed my foot and I felt a flicker of relief that he was alive. I wasn't going to be for long if I couldn't find the right switch.
A large hairy arm reached over the console and grabbed the back of my prison outfit. I was hauled up and over the console. I tucked my feet up on the edge as I went over and used it to propel me right into my attacker. My head connected with his chin. He went over backwards, his hand still clutching the back of my suit. I went over with him, sprawling on the floor.
The second man grabbed me and hauled me up. I fought him with every trick I could think of. I scratched and punched and kicked. He caught my hand in his and twisted me around, his thick arm locking around my throat. I kept trying to kick him. I didn't have the right leverage. I flailed with my free hand until he caught it. He wrapped my own arm around my throat and jerked back. My shoulder popped. I groaned with the pain.
He hauled me backwards, heading out of the control room. I knew if he got me back to my cell, I was going to die. I wriggled my chin under his arm and sank my teeth into it.
He cursed me, in a hoarse whisper. I'd drawn blood. He shoved me away. I staggered into his friend.
"She bit me," he whispered.
"Just get the rope around her," the second man answered, clutching my hair.
I brought my knee up and caught him in the crotch, hard. He sucked in a breath. His reflexes were what I expected. He bent over, his hand slipping out of my hair. My fist caught him on the chin and sent him sprawling backwards. His head cracked against the console.
I vaulted back over it. I hit buttons at random. I was panicking. I couldn't afford to. I heard the other man coming for me. I tried to remember which I'd already pushed. I reached for the far end of the console. It was all flat screens. I slammed my palm onto it in frustration.
A siren started to wail. Red lights flashed in the hallway outside and in between the double set of doors. The man cursed and grabbed for me. I ducked away. He caught my arm and yanked me into the console.
I swung my other hand at him. He knocked it away and dragged me over the console. I heard shouting and pounding feet on the other side of the doors. My attacker swung me around and up against him just as the doors opened. Enforcers in black uniforms surged into the room, stunners out and firing. The wave of paralyzing rays hit me at the same time my attacker slid his knife home into my side.
He fell to one side. I tumbled forward to the floor. I landed on my side, driving the knife deeper. The pain was intense. I couldn't scream. The stunner had caught me full force. I could breathe and blink my eyes and nothing more. Warm, wet blood soaked the front of my prison suit, running down my side and pooling on the floor under me.
Feet pounded into the room. Beams of light flickered around, stabbing into the darkness.
"Get the lights on in here!"
I almost fainted with relief. It was Commander Hovart.
"We've got two unknown men," someone said.
Hovart leaned over me. "Where's the guard?"
"Under here," someone answered. "He's breathing but unconscious."
Hovart shone his handlight into my face. He put his hand down next to me and lifted it immediately. It was dark with blood. His light flashed down to my side and the handle of the knife sticking out. I was fighting to hang on. His voice seemed to come from far away. My eyes weren't working anymore. The lights were getting dim.
"Get a medunit here, now!" Hovart shouted.
Feet pounded over to me. Hands rolled me up where they could see the knife. I felt the pain as they eased it free and tried to stop the bleeding.
I drifted, only partially aware of what was going on around me. I heard voices but I couldn't make the words make sense. The lights came on. I was staring straight up at one and couldn't manage to close my eyes.
I was lifted to a stretcher. Overhead lights flashed across my vision as I was raced out of the building. The stretcher hit a bump and jarred me. The pain sent me sliding away into the darkness in my head.
There were momentary flashes of coherence, bits of memory that were clear. The face of a young doctor, looking pale as she lifted the bloody wad of cloth over my side. The pain of being shifted off the stretcher. Someone fitting a breathing mask over my face. Cold and hot washing over my belly.
I drifted in and out of consciousness for what felt like days. I was vaguely aware of a low beeping, medical monitors keeping track of life. I heard the dist
ant sounds of normal life, voices and dishes and somewhere a vid tuned to a news station. I slowly blinked my eyes open. My eyelids felt heavy. Somewhere I was aware of pain trying to be felt. I was also aware of the mind-blurring effect of pain meds. I finally got my eyes open and spent a few minutes trying to get them to focus.
I was in a hospital, lying on a bed and covered with a light blanket. A monitor over my head beeped softly. I turned my head to look for the door, trying to make sense of the jumble of memories in my head.
Greyson Hovart sat in a chair, watching me, as if it were perfectly natural for him to be there. He saw my eyes were open and stood. I studied his face as he crossed the room to stand over me. It was carefully neutral.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Lousy," I croaked. I shifted in the bed, easing an itch that was making demands for relief. It didn't help much.
"You should be in a medtank," he said. "Except they say your records suggest that would be a bad move."
"I'd be here for a month recovering. Is there something to drink handy?"
"Just answer one question first."
Ah, I thought, the answer would determine how I was treated.
"Were you trying to escape?"
"No. What good would it have done? They were there trying to kill me."
Hovart's face eased into a smile. "That's what I wanted to hear." He found a cup of water and held it while I sipped. He put the cup back on the table behind him.
"Admiral Claybourne seems to have disappeared. Sometime during the crisis he slipped away. That tends to make him look like he was doing something he shouldn't."
"But it still doesn't clear me, does it?" I sighed and shifted restlessly under the covers. A twinge of pain warned me that it wasn't a good idea to move much yet. "Are you here to protect me or to keep me from sneaking away?"
"Both. Your lawyer is making all sorts of noise. He's even got the planetary governor feeling sorry for you. He placed an unofficial plea for clemency with the Patrol this morning, after word of the attack got out. You made the Patrol look bad."
"So, why are you still grinning? I just gave you and your men a black eye."
Hovart shook his head. "Not my men. Claybourne's handpicked aides. Turns out one of them passed codes to the security unit where you were being held. And another one slipped sleeping drugs to the guards on duty that night. They confessed."
"Before or after being tortured?"
"The Patrol doesn't use such crude methods," Hovart said primly. "We certainly don't admit it." His grin tugged at his mouth.
A medic came by to check on me. He replaced the pain patch, despite my protest. He patted my hand and gave me a patronizing smile even as he was slapping the replacement one on my arm. It kicked in and I was asleep again.
I woke to find the room dark, the hallway outside dim and the sounds of the hospital muted. Hovart wasn't in the chair. When I saw who was, I had to look twice to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.
"Fya?" I asked.
The tan swirls on his cheeks stood out in the dim light. "Not quite how I wanted to meet you again."
I struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the pulling in my side. I had a lot of questions, but I couldn't seem to find a place to start asking.
"Lay down, before you pull out your stitches and get me in Hovart's bad graces," Fya said as he pulled his chair closer to my bed.
I lay back, propping the pillow more behind my head.
"Aramis is out in the hall. We both transferred to Hovart's staff after Vallius. He got assigned here a few months back. He's been under Claybourne's thumb and looking for a way out since the first day. He gave us both night duty. He won't let anyone take day shift away from him. He's worried about you." Fya cocked his head to one side, waiting for me to start answering the questions he hadn't bothered to ask yet.
"You want to know what I've been involved in."
Fya nodded.
"You still have your security clearance?" I asked. He and Aramis were undercover agents when they'd been trapped on Vallius. They'd helped haul me out of that nasty place.
He laughed. "Don't tell me, I'll wait for your lawyer to spill it."
Aramis stuck his head around the door. He saw I was awake and came in the room, easing the door shut. "How are you, Dace?"
"I've been better. How are you, Aramis?"
"Bored." He studied me for a long moment. "What are the chances those two had friends?"
"Not likely. They were hired professionals," Fya said. "Someone doesn't like you much, Dace."
"A lot of someones," I said.
"Then it seems that having both of us in here with you would be that much safer," Aramis said, dragging a chair over to the other side of the bed.
"Think playing cards would keep us awake better?" Fya pulled out a deck. "Unless you're tired and need sleep?" he said, looking at me.
"I'm too awake to sleep now." I scratched my arm. The med patch itched.
"Comets?" Aramis asked.
"What do you want to bet?" I answered.
By the time the medic heard us and came in to chastise my guards, I owned half of their future earnings.
"Good thing we can't play with you anymore," Aramis whispered to me.
"We were letting you win," Fya put in as he settled himself back near the door.
"Lie all you like, I beat you both fair and square."
"You shouldn't be up yet," the medic scolded me. "You'll pull it open." He peeled back the coverings and looked at my side. "You want more pain meds?"
"No, I don't want any," I said as I peeled the patch off my arm. "They give me headaches. For weeks." He was still frowning. "I've been worse. And survived."
He finally got my hint and went away. "Go to sleep now," he ordered as he left.
"Like that's possible," I muttered. I was keyed up, wanting to do something. I'd been idle too long.
"Go to sleep," Fya said, mock seriously.
"Or he'll sing for you," Aramis said and ducked out the doorway before Fya could retaliate.
"I'm not that bad," Fya muttered.
I lay back on the bed.
I dreamed of birds, flying free between stars.
Chapter 45
I paced restlessly, hobbling between the bed and the window and the bathroom. The window was opaqued, I couldn't see anything no matter what I tried. It let in light and nothing more. I wasn't allowed outside the room. As far as the Patrol and the hospital staff were concerned, I was still under arrest for treason.
Three days had passed. I was still in limbo. Leon had come by briefly the morning before. He'd grinned and told me not to worry. Not yet. But his grin was strained and he looked worried himself. There was still no word on where my ship had disappeared to. It shouldn't have taken two weeks to get to Linas-Drias from Lushay. It should have taken no more than five days.
I didn't let myself think of the possibilities. Jasyn was too good a navigator to make stupid mistakes that would leave them stranded in hyperspace forever or blown into dust and spread across light years. Lowell had to have taken them somewhere else first. That had to be the explanation. I clung to that belief.
Hovart and I talked a lot during the days. Fya and Aramis smuggled in card games. As long as we were quiet and kept the light dim, the medics didn't notice and didn't care if I was up all night.
It was day again, midmorning. I was losing hope. Hovart had given me the news that they were going to release me back to the jail tomorrow. My trial was scheduled for the week after. It promised to be a media circus. I kept the vid off and didn't read the papers or anything else. I didn't want to see my face or the rampant speculation about me.
I sat in the chair, playing solitaire across the end of my bed. Hovart was in the hall, talking to the men on duty outside my door.
I was vaguely aware of some disturbance in the hall. It sounded like a news broadcast. It didn't have anything to do with me. I gathered up my lost game and shuffled the cards. I was halfway thro
ugh dealing out a new game when Hovart returned.
He went straight to the vid screen. "You have to see this," he said as he turned it on.
"If it's about me, I don't want to see it." My protest trailed into silence as I saw the image on the screen.
It was the Phoenix. I stared, the cards falling forgotten on the floor around me. They'd landed right in the middle of the Emperor's private landing field on Linas-Drias. The battered freighter looked out of place among the sleek yachts.
The announcer's words slowly sank in. As the meaning came clear, I couldn't help but grin.
"They did it," I said. "They really did it!"
They'd landed on Linas-Drias. They'd been taken to a private audience with the Emperor and the Speaker to the Council of Worlds, at least Lowell had. From what the reporter said, things were pretty confused. No one knew quite what to believe. The footage and news had been sent on a capsule. It had all happened four days ago. News like this was going to spread as fast as possible through the Empire. I just hoped I didn't have to wait four more days to find out the results of their visit.
"What is this all about, Dace?" Hovart asked. "Why charge you with treason? You never did explain that. This goes above Admiral Claybourne, doesn't it?"
I figured it wouldn't get me in any more trouble if I talked, so I did. Hovart could be trusted. He was on my side.
"Roderick Medallis was planning a coup. Lowell found out about it, almost too late. They had him framed. He was running, trying to keep out of their hands while he looked for the truth."
"And how did you get involved?"
"I picked up a hitchhiker on Verrus." That really was how it had all started. "He'd lost his memory and he had people chasing him. I'm guessing those were some of Roderick's men. Except," I frowned, the pieces didn't fit, "Roderick had Patrol contacts, high enough to get Lowell framed. So why would he hire assassins? That doesn't make sense."
"Assassins?"
"We were chased on Verrus and again on Shamustel. They almost caught me."
"And again here," Hovart said. "The two men who attacked you both suicided later the next morning. As soon as we quit watching them."
