What was she going to do? Time had to be running out. Captain Krell’s superior officer was coming and Kole might well be with him. What was she going to do?
Tears welled up in her eyes, which upset her even more. The speed with which Bree had come in to clip her fingernails proved that the Armenites were monitoring her. She didn’t want them to see her cry. Yet she didn’t seem capable of controlling her emotions.
In an effort to save the tattered shreds of her pride, Jewel flung herself on the bed and buried her head beneath the thin pillow.
Sobs wracked her body—stronger and louder than she could control—but at least they wouldn’t see her tears.
****
The door swished open admitting Physician Lieutenant Eva Bree three hours earlier than her regularly scheduled examination. Unlike her other visits, this time the woman carried a bundle of gray clothing which she promptly tossed ahead of her. The bundle hit Jewel squarely in the chest, but she wasn’t ready for it and it bounced down to the floor, spilling open to reveal unattractive, practical looking undergarments, socks and slippers wrapped in a one piece gray coverall that looked like it was designed for convicts.
“Put those on,” Bree instructed her. “You have an interview in fifteen minutes.”
Jewel did not hurry to pick up the garments. She hated this woman and was in no way eager to follow her instructions. In the three days she’d been awake in Armenite custody, Bree had yet to say a kind word to her. And while it was true that Jewel’s skin was healing as Captain Krell had predicted, she couldn’t quite bring herself to credit the Aremenite doctor with her recovery.
She scratched at her forearm with her useless fingertips. “Who am I meeting and what are we talking about?” It didn’t seem possible that her parents could be here yet. The Valkyrie System was way out in the Fringe. If she were lucky, they hadn’t even learned that the Armenites had recovered her yet. There had to still be some time for her to think up a plan to escape with Erik and make another run for freedom.
“You are to be formally interviewed in regard to your crimes and your peculiar circumstances,” the physician lieutenant announced. She flashed her white teeth in a mocking grin. The message couldn’t have been clearer. The doctor thought that the runaway Cartelite was finally going to get what was coming to her.
Jewel suspected the woman was right. She was in no way anxious to encounter an Armenite tribunal. Come to think of it, now that she was faced with doing just that, it was beginning to look like there were much worse things in the universe than being forced to face her parents again.
To avoid starting to get dressed and thus hurry to the feared trial, Jewel tried to get the doctor talking. “You mentioned some peculiar circumstances?”
The doctor sniffed as if she couldn’t believe Jewel could ask such a stupid thing. “It will be up to the Empyreals to decide how much they wish explained to you. Now hurry up and get ready—they are not to be kept waiting.”
Without pausing to see if Jewel would do as she had instructed, the physician lieutenant left the room.
Jewel stood staring blankly at the pile of gray clothing on the floor in front of her. Empyreals? Had the cold-hearted doctor really said Jewel was about to meet with Armenite Empyreals?
She took a deep breath and tried to slow the breakneck pace of her beating heart. It seemed foolish now, considering her father’s history with these people, but she’d never expected to meet any Empyreals, much less more than one. There simply weren’t enough of them, for one thing, and for another—despite her illustrious heritage—she hadn’t truly thought herself important enough to merit this consideration.
She wished that she’d been right in her estimation.
The Armenite race originated in a small colony on a moon called Armen which they settled several centuries before the discovery of armenium and the development of faster than light space travel. It was theorized in the Cartel Worlds—based solely on the people Armen produced because outsiders were never invited to the home world—that Armen suffered from a particularly harsh environment. Seemingly without exception, its people were dour of mind and hardy of spirit. Cartelite scholars speculated that for generations life on Armen was a precarious battle for survival. In a Darwinian strategy that would have warmed Thomas Malthus’ dark soul, resources on Armen were not squandered on non-productive members of society—the sick, the elderly and the crippled were either killed or permitted to die. With the weak gone, only the most physically fit and highly competitive members of the race survived to produce the next generation. This reproductive strategy, horrible as it seemed to outsiders, had resulted in one of the most militant, highly competitive peoples in the modern galaxy.
Empyreals were everything that made Armenites both great and terrible pumped up on steroids—a caste of royalty or high priests in the Armenites’ already elitist society. Rarely seen outside of Armen, they were the unquestioned leaders of the Hegemony.
When the Armenites discovered armenium and managed to produce the first slide drive bringing faster-than-light space travel to the galaxy, most observers had expected them to go a bit crazy, let their hair down a little and have some fun. After all, generations of crippling austerity had just given way to unbelievable wealth and prosperity. But that isn’t what the Armenites did. Led by their Empyreals the Armenites intensified their traditional austerity, investing the bulk of their new wealth in their military and forcibly expanding their way of life into other star systems.
The Empyreals were the heart and soul of the Armenite Hegemony and now, if the physician-lieutenant knew what she was talking about, at least two of them wanted to meet with Jewel.
Sighing, she picked up the clothes at her feet and started to get dressed, wishing she had time to take a shower before her funeral.
Chapter Four
Am I a Guest or a Prisoner?
Captain Krell entered the briefing room ahead of Jewel, marching with all the spit and polish of an officer on parade drill. “Honored Empyreals,” he announced. “Captain Krell reporting as ordered.”
Jewel tried to step up beside him but an enlisted member of their escort clapped his hand down hard on her shoulder and prevented her from doing so. Not letting this dissuade her curiosity, she craned her neck, trying to catch sight of the three—count them, three—Empyreals the captain was addressing.
The Empyreals sat facing the captain across a plain black table as if this were a board of review. As Jewel had expected, each was mature in years, easily sixty or more, but none of them actually looked old. They were physically fit with no air of weakness about them. Each wore military uniforms almost universally devoid of insignia or decoration, for they needed none. Unlike Captain Krell, the physician lieutenant, and even the enlisted members of her escort, the Empyreals carried their decorations permanently inscribed on their bodies. Unique tattoo patterns of broad and thin blue-black spirals adorned their pale white flesh exhibiting an almost magnetic appeal, catching at Jewel’s eye and refusing to let go again. The overall effect felt primitive, even tribal—an exotic and threatening complement to their already grim features.
“And our…guest?” the apparently eldest Empyreal asked. Like the men seated to either side of her, this woman had close cropped hair that did nothing to conceal the designs decorating her scalp. She was muscular despite her advanced age and with such a low percentage of body fat that her breasts looked shrunken and emaciated. Yet she was definitely female.
In response to the Empyreal’s question, Captain Krell pivoted sharply to the side to clear the line of sight between those sitting at the table and Jewel. “Honored Empyreals, may I present Luxora Sapphira, who calls herself Jewel Aurora, and was once betrothed to Lieutenant Kole Delling.”
The same enlisted man who moments before had prevented Jewel from standing next to the captain now prodded her to step closer to the table. She did so, wondering at the captain’s use of the past tense to describe the state of her engagement. Hope tried to flutter
within her chest, but it died again as she looked at those grim faces.
“You and your men may leave now, Captain,” the woman informed him.
Krell saluted sharply, turned on his heel and marched out without any hesitation or even facial expression.
Jewel watched him go wondering if this was a societal quirk, this preference for conducting private one-on-one meetings without formal ceremony. She couldn’t decide if the departure of the guards was designed to put her more at ease or make her more uncomfortable. In the rational part of her brain, she believed that removing the guards should have helped her relax, but no one looking at the three people seated before her could have mistaken this setting for anything other than a trial.
The woman folded her tattooed hands in front of her on the table. “We will begin with introductions. I am Physician General Ina Adel of House Austri. I’m an expert in treating armenium related illnesses, and of course, as an Empyreal of the first House to forge a bond with a Cartelite family, I have a great deal of experience in dealing with people of your nation.”
Jewel hoped she kept her eyes from showing her surprise. There were perhaps two hundred to three hundred Major Houses in Armenite society and House Austri was one of the biggest and most influential. As the supplier of the Lisht Cartel, it was also a major competitor of the Khaba/Delling alliance. In addition, the woman had earned the rank of Physician General—a very high distinction in the overly militarized Armenite society. It could not possibly bode well that such a person was involved in any way in deciding Jewel’s fate.
“To my left,” Adel continued, “is Rear Admiral Hoyt Delling, a great uncle of the man you were betrothed too.”
Again Jewel noted the use of the past tense to describe her relationship with Kole. She’d wanted out of her arranged marriage for years—she still wanted out so she could start a new life with Erik. But under the circumstances she found herself in—a prisoner with criminal charges hanging over her head—she found herself frightened, not elated, to learn that her dream might be fulfilled. In these last few days, she’d imagined her engagement to Kole would offer her some protection from the Armenites, but clearly that was no longer the case.
She’d even tried to plan out scenarios in her mind where she might halfway martyr herself—use the Armenite desire to marry her to Kole as leverage to free Erik and the others—then look for an opportunity to run again so she might meet up with Erik at some later time. Those daydreams might not be practical, but an impractical fantasy was better than none at all.
Looking at Hoyt Delling’s face Jewel lost all hope. The most naïve and credulous person in the universe could find no trace of good will in the man’s continence. His eyes glowered with obvious displeasure and his tattoos acted to fortify his hostility. They swirled out from around his eyes merging together at his nose before spiraling out again in broad bands to color his cheeks, cross over his ears and ply their way back up into his skull like two curving horns.
She took a deep breath and fought not to be intimidated. Certainly Kole’s uncle had a harsh and menacing look but the markings were also peculiar when she stopped to think on them. Why would a star-faring civilization rely on something as primitive as tattoos to intimidate their enemies? Effective or not, it still seemed more than a little ludicrous.
Adel gestured to the man on her other side. “And to my right is Justiciar General, Ren Farl of House Vili.”
Jewel struggled not to cringe. Her situation had just gone from bleak to hopeless. House Vili was the other great armenium mining House in the Hegemony. If the Armenites had tried, they could not have stacked the deck more effectively against her with two direct competitors present to rule against her even if the rear admiral were minded to be lenient with her.
Jewel locked her eyes on a place about six inches above Physician General Adel’s head and tried not to let them see her despair. And despair was the proper term. There was no hope of salvation here. The only thing she couldn’t understand was why the Empyreals were wasting time with this interview when they had obviously already decided her fate.
Armenite society was what the Cartel Worlds termed overly militarized. All citizens were required to serve in the military, and the military—quite inefficiently in the opinion of Jewel and her parents—directed all aspects of Armenite life. Thus after primary and secondary schooling, all Armenite citizens entered the service, with all but a specialized few cycling through what the rest of the galaxy would consider to be active service into a semi-active reserve.
Rank mattered here, being almost synonymous with the related concept of status. To drag three Empyreal officers of this distinction out to the Valkyrie System to deal with her and the survivors of the Euripides simply didn’t make sense to Jewel.
Jewel suddenly realized that Physician General Adel had paused as if waiting for a response from her. She was so discombobulated by the makeup of this board that she was frankly uncertain if the woman had kept talking after introducing her colleagues. Fortunately, Jewel had suffered through years of social etiquette training. She drew upon those classes now to muster up a polite reply. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Might I inquire as to the reason for this interview? I’m quite surprised that three individuals of your exalted rank would be pulled to an out of the way location like the Valkyrie System rather than have my shipmates and me brought to you.”
The Justiciar General, Ren Farl, lifted an eyebrow and shifted to face Physician General Adel. “Is there a medical reason that her current circumstances have been withheld from her?”
Jewel felt her face begin to frown, pulling the remaining scabs on her cheek tighter. What current circumstances?
Physician General Adel shook her head. “No.”
“And there are no security reasons either, now that we’ve deactivated her chips,” Rear Admiral Delling added. He turned his full attention on Jewel. “You could and should be charged for the illegal activities of your bioware aboard this vessel.”
“Hoyt,” the female Empyreal intervened, “you know that this woman was unconscious when brought onto this vessel. You further know that there is medical evidence that she once tried to turn the bioware off herself at considerable risk to her own health and wellbeing. You also know that while we consider her to be an adult, under the laws of the Cartelites, she has the status of majorus minor, which means that it is her parents who have ultimate control over the software installed in those chips. I believe we have more than enough substantive issues to discuss this afternoon without raising irrelevant, and frankly questionable issues regarding this woman’s responsibility for the actions of her bioware.”
“I concur,” Justiciar General Farl said.
Hoyt Delling scowled, reinforcing Jewel’s already solid impression that he was hostilely inclined toward her interests.
She wet her lips, accidentally running her tongue over one of her remaining scabs. “Thank you, Physician General, for understanding my limitations so clearly. Spy—that’s what I call my bioware—is an annoying pain which was never very good at following my directions.”
“It was, however, adept at saving your life,” Adel told her.
This was news to Jewel. “What? How?”
Justiciar General Farl took over the narrative. “The menites inhabiting the Northern Sea on the Hegemonic colony of Valkyrie penetrated your all-environment suit while you were diving on the abandoned armenium mine. Your bioware successfully brought you back to the surface.”
The sudden memory of cold seawater flooding her diving suit overwhelmed Jewel, causing her to stagger backward a step.
She lifted a still-scabbed hand to her mouth. “Oh Stars, is that how I—”
“You were unconscious, but breathing,” Physician General Adel told her. “Your fellow crewmates succeeded in extracting you from the water and keeping you alive. Hush now, we are discussing your future, not your past.”
Jewel instinctively began to protest being brushed off in this fashion when she noti
ced what looked suspiciously like an amused twinkle in the physician general’s eye. Was it possible the woman was teasing her? That didn’t make any sense, did it? Armenite’s don’t tease, do they?
She closed her mouth without voicing her objection.
Adel picked up the dropped thread of the original conversation. “So to return to your initial point, Ren,” she said to the justiciar general. “It appears that Physician Lieutenant Bree was motivated to forego sharing this information with Ms. Sapphira by an instinctive distaste for outsiders and a glaring sense of outrage over the special circumstances involved in this case.”
The justiciar general shook his head. “The single most incredible thing to happen in my lifetime and that is the nitwit’s response? It’s enough to make you question the whole younger generation.”
“It’s not clear to me it’s that it’s all that wonderful,” Rear Admiral Delling observed.
“I didn’t say it was wonderful,” Farl corrected him. “I said it was incredible. And it is.”
Jewel began to see that she had completely underestimated how important the Armenites would view the discovery of armenium in the Valkyrie System. While the Armenites were tight lipped about the number of mines they had in operation, she had always been under the impression that the fuel was extracted from many planets. Thinking back now, she realized that that assumption might be without basis. Could it be possible that the Valkyrie system represented what might only be the second or third source of raw armenium in the galaxy? The idea boggled the mind.
“Let’s just get on with it,” the rear admiral said.
“Very well,” Adel agreed. “Ms. Sapphira, we are trying to figure out what to do with you. It would help us in our deliberations if you would answer a few questions. Will you relate, from your own perspective, the course of events that led you to dive on an armenium mine in the Valkyrie System?”
Jewel was by no means certain that she wanted to do that. “This is a trial, right? Or at least it’s a hearing. Am I entitled to any sort of representation?”
Prisoner Page 4
