by Jaleta Clegg
We ran blindly down alleys, darting across streets as we came to them, until we reached the edge of the commercial blocks. Across the street were nothing but homes with large yards, big trees, fences, and nasty-looking dogs.
“Now what?” I panted, leaning against the alley wall.
Jerimon ran a finger down my cheek.
I pushed his hand away.
“Chocolate,” he said, holding up his finger. He licked it off as he studied the street beyond. “I don’t know. Do you have any suggestions where to go now?”
The shouts behind us grew in volume. The restaurant owner and the thugs weren’t the only ones after us now. From the sound of sirens wailing in the distance, someone had called in the local police.
“We’re in trouble,” I said. “And we don’t even know if we got what we came for.”
Jerimon hefted the bag of files he’d swiped. “I hope it’s in here.”
“Maybe if we hid in someone’s yard for a while,” I suggested, knowing it wasn’t going to work. The dog in the nearest yard growled, pacing along the fence.
“What about the roofs?” Jerimon suggested. A flitter with a big police symbol on its belly whined overhead. “Forget that.”
“We could steal a car, but I don’t know how to drive one.”
“We could turn ourselves in.”
“And hope Lady Rina bails us out? I doubt she’d do that.”
“Well? If we just stand here, someone is going to catch up to us. Rather soon, I’d guess.”
I stared at the ugly dog and wished for a miracle. It came in the form of a big delivery truck that crawled to a stop in front of the alley. The driver made a show of checking a clipboard allowing a swarthy man to duck out on our side. He motioned to us, twisting his fingers through the air.
“Who’s side is he on?” I sized the man up. “You jump him and I’ll threaten the driver. Maybe we can get him to take us to the port and we can buy our way back.”
“I don’t think we need to,” Jerimon said. “He’s Family.” Jerimon scuttled out of the alley and slipped into the truck. The swarthy man gestured urgently at me. I hoped Jerimon knew what he was doing, trusting him as I followed. I crawled into the back of the truck, the swarthy man at my heels. As soon as we were in, the driver started the engine. The truck crawled along the street.
“Quickly,” the swarthy man said, “you must change. Those uniforms are too noticeable.” He said nothing at all about the chocolate, cream, and berries smeared on mine. He handed us both jumpsuits, the kind worn by laborers at any dock. He crawled past stacks of boxes to the back, keeping watch out the window. I eyed Jerimon. He calmly unzipped his shipsuit, then flexed his chest muscles. I rolled my eyes and turned my back.
Changing clothes in a moving truck while trying to stay covered is a challenge. I yanked the suit on as fast as I could. It helped that it was several sizes too big. I zipped it then sat, waiting.
The man came back and handed me a grimy hat, then climbed into the front of the truck. Jerimon sat next to me. He had a hat, too, but his didn’t look near as dirty. “If we are stopped, don’t say anything. Let Toby do the talking. We’re just hired help.”
The truck lurched to a stop. Jerimon lost his balance and fell on top of me. I hadn’t been this close to him since the last time he’d tried to kiss me. He studied my face, his eyes wide, too serious for my liking.
“Get off, Jerimon,” I whispered. Official sounding voices asked questions of the driver.
“Dace,” Jerimon breathed, “I—”
“Not now.” I pushed his shoulders. The look in his eyes scared me. I didn’t want to know what he was about to say. He rolled over, sitting with his back to me. The door at the rear of the truck swung open. Light streamed in. I tried to look stupid. It was easy. The official played a light over my face, then turned it on Jerimon.
“How long have they been working for you?”
“Three years,” Toby, the swarthy man, replied.
A younger official tapped on his handcomp. “They check out, sir.”
The older official snapped off his handlight.
The back door slammed shut and the truck started off again, growling its way slowly through the city. Toby climbed into the back after a few moments.
“How did you fake that?” Jerimon asked.
“You’re Family,” Toby said, as if that explained everything. “You help load this onto the transport. Stay on with the last batch.”
“Where are you taking us?” I asked. His appearance was just a bit too convenient.
“Lady Rina wants her pilots back,” he said. “She isn’t the only one who wants you two, though. From what we could tell, the police only want to find out why the Targon Syndicate is hunting you.”
“Who?” I hadn’t heard of them before.
“Apparently they used Belliff, Inc., as a front for all sorts of illegal activities. Your records show a connection.”
“I was dumb enough to sign on as a courier pilot. How did they follow us here?” I thought we’d left Belliff behind with Leon on Tebros.
“Someone on the station recognized you and tipped them off.” Toby glanced forward as the truck shifted gears around a corner. “The Targon Syndicate has a strong presence on Besht, which is why we have to smuggle you off. We’re almost at the loading dock.”
“Blast it!” I wanted to punch something. All I needed was organized crime chasing me. Wasn’t the Sessimoniss and Patrol enough trouble?
Jerimon didn’t say anything.
“Jerimon?” I asked.
“What?” He sounded different, a lot more subdued than he had since I’d recovered from the Sessimoniss poison.
“Is there something you’re not telling me? Is there anything else you forgot to mention?”
He shook his head, his dark hair hiding his eyes.
The truck ground to a stop. The back door swung open. Jerimon stood, gathering a stack of boxes. He wouldn’t look at me. I shrugged and hauled boxes out of the truck. I didn’t really want to know what his problems were, as long as they didn’t involve me.
We loaded the boxes onto a transport shuttle, stowing them in the back.
The port boiled with officials. Several important looking cars zipped by. Most of the activity was concentrated in the personnel areas of the port. I flinched every time a uniformed official hurried past.
A harried official bustled to the shuttle. He questioned Toby quickly, punching answers into his handcomp. They must have satisfied him. He glanced briefly at us and the rest of the crew before hurrying away.
Jerimon and I carted the last load into the shuttle, webbing it securely in place. We pulled down two jumpseats and buckled in. The pilots came past, joking with each other. One gave us a brief nod on his way into the cockpit. The engines started up. We rolled out onto the runway and took off smoothly into the sky.
I sighed, the load of tension slipping away as we gained altitude. “I can’t believe we actually got away.”
Jerimon grunted.
“What?”
He opened his mouth, then shook his head.
“Where are the files?” I asked. Anything to change the subject. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know what bothered Jerimon.
“In a big box, with our uniforms.” He picked at a loose thread on his leg.
I studied his face, noting guilt in every line. “Did I miss something? Did Lady Rina arrange anything for us?”
He twitched, swallowing nervously.
“Never mind that. Who is Toby? What did you mean by Family?” I added, emphasizing the capital letter I heard every time I’d heard Lady Rina mention it.
Jerimon looked relieved. “She contacted them. Besht has a rather large organization, mostly of Gypsy blood, part of the Family, Gypsy clans I think. We offer help when needed, they give help when asked. Balance of favors. Toby owes Lady Rina, she said something about cousins and business relations. It’s complicated.”
The rumble of atmosphere died awa
y outside the transport. Gravity lessened as we reached orbit. I tightened my belt. Cargo transports didn’t bother with artificial gravity fields. We listened to the engine rumble.
Jerimon shifted in his seat, twisting his hands together. “Dace, I really need to talk to you.”
I made the mistake of meeting his eyes. He was gorgeous enough to make my heart skip more than a few beats. I looked into his crystal blue eyes and wished I hadn’t. The words he couldn’t say were there, plain and naked as stars in space. He leaned closer. He was going to try kissing me again, only this time he really meant it.
I ducked, turning my head away. “I think we’re almost there.”
He took my hand. My voice trailed into nothing. I balled my hand into a fist. He smoothed my fingers out, interlacing them with his own. I wanted to pull away but couldn’t make myself do it. The warmth of his hand filled empty spaces in my soul I hadn’t even known existed. No one had ever held my hand, not like this.
The transport docked. The loud clanging of grappling hooks rang through the ship. I pulled my hand free. I didn’t want this complication. Jerimon putting on his smooth act, like he had before, I could stand, because I knew he didn’t really care. Lady Rina’s meddling had gone to his head. He’d convinced himself he was in love with me for real now. I didn’t know what to say, how to handle it.
I flipped the release on the buckle, pushing myself free of the seat. The sooner we were done, the sooner we could go back to the Swan to untangle the mess and the sooner I could go back to what was left of my life. It hit me hard. I had no life to go back to. I had no ship, no family, no savings, nothing.
“Why do you keep running away?” Jerimon rested his hand on my shoulder.
Too close. I shifted away. “We should get the cargo unloaded.”
“Dace.”
“Don’t say it.” I tugged the webbing loose over the boxes.
“Lady Rina’s cards don’t lie.”
I shook my head, unwilling to believe.
“We’re meant to be together, Dace.”
“Shut up and haul cargo, Jerimon.” What if Lady Rina’s cards had foretold our destiny together? Where did that leave Tayvis? I shoved a box into his arms, pushing distance between us.
* * *
The heavy cruiser sailed majestically into the system. It slid gracefully into dock at the Patrol station, barely nudging the buffers. Its commander, however, paced the bridge like a caged animal, his face twisted in a ferocious scowl. He wasn’t the captain; he wore the clusters of a sector commander and the solid black of an Enforcer. The crew, in regular silver uniforms, watched him nervously.
He was tall, his uniform emphasizing his well-muscled frame. His dark hair curled at the ends, barely brushing his collar. He had said little to anyone but the captain the whole voyage. The crew performed better than they ever had, afraid the slightest mistake might set off the angry storm of his temper.
The captain placed a call to the station as the docking clamps hauled the ship close to the station.
“Captain? This is a surprise.” The station commander’s face registered polite interest. He glanced distractedly to one side of the monitor screen.
The captain shot his own distracted glance at the Enforcer commander on his bridge. “We’re on special assignment.”
“I thought you arrived a bit early. The messages went out only a few days ago.”
“Problems, Commander?” The captain focused on the station commander. His sense of danger warned him to turn his ship and run; his sense of duty obliged him to inquire.
“Targon and the gypsies are at each other again. Something’s got them riled. We should have it under control soon.” The station commander pulled nervously at his collar.
The captain laughed. “I’m glad it’s you and not me. I hear Targon Syndicate plays rough.”
“Not on Besht. If it isn’t the local gang war, what has brought you here?
“Higher authority. I’ve been reduced to a courier. It’s Enforcer business. I’m sending him to you as soon as the docking hatch clears.”
The station commander sighed, resigned to more trouble. “I’ll assemble the color guard to meet him in the airlock.”
“I doubt he’d appreciate it. Just have someone to escort him to your office. He isn’t going to wait.” The captain broke the connection. “Commander Tayvis,” he called, turning in his seat.
Tayvis paused in his pacing.
“Station command will send someone to escort you. The airlock should clear in another few minutes.”
Tayvis nodded. “Keep the crew on the ship and stay ready for a priority launch.”
The captain nodded, hiding his irritation. Commander Tayvis had commandeered his ship at Tebros, running them to Nevira then here with barely a chance to refuel. They were past due for shore leave. Any protest on his part would be ignored, though.
The captain addressed his executive officer. “Stay on alert, no crew to leave the ship. Arrange for priority refueling. Alert engineering to leave the engines hot.”
“Sir, it’s been over a month for most of the crew.” His exec gestured at the bridge crew.
“I’ll put in requests for overtime pay. It’s the best I can do. You have your orders. I suggest you follow them.”
His crew grumbled, but obeyed.
Tayvis nodded to the captain as he strode from the bridge, passing through the ship.
Tayvis opened the airlock to the station. He knew he wasn’t popular on the ship and he didn’t care. He cared that Dace was always one step ahead. With each planet, she dug herself deeper into trouble. He wanted her safe and he’d use every means at his disposal to ensure that, even if it meant wreaking havoc on crew schedules. He scowled when he caught sight of the hastily assembled color guard on the station side of the lock.
“I don’t have time for this,” he said, his voice a dangerous low growl.
The color guard quickly dissolved, leaving a single young ensign standing at attention. “Sir?” the ensign squeaked, snapping a salute.
“Just take me to your commanding officer.” Tayvis forced his irritation under control.
The ensign dropped his hand. “This way, sir,” he said, scuttling down a corridor.
Tayvis stalked behind the young man. Stares and whispers followed him. He resisted the urge to finger his collar. He outranked all of them, and for once, he wore his rank. Working for Commander Lowell had given him the option of working quietly, unseen and unnoticed. Tayvis preferred it that way.
But this simple chase had turned into a major farce. Dace kept slipping away, leaving ever-increasing amounts of chaos in her wake. He’d been monitoring the situation on Besht since they’d arrived in-system. He wouldn’t be at all surprised to find Dace in the middle of it.
The station commander sat in his office, shuffling papers and making calls at the same time. Tayvis recognized a crisis in progress and waited. The commander sent a last flurry of orders out then disconnected the com.
“What can I do for you, sir?” He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his belly.
“I’m looking for someone,” Tayvis said.
“So is half the Empire. There are over a billion people on Besht alone. I don’t keep track of everyone.”
“I think this one should be rather easy to find.”
“I’m running a manhunt now. It’s a lot more difficult than you seem to think. We’re looking for two people who should be sticking out, easy to spot, but we can’t find them.” He slid a grainy picture across his desk. “Surveillance photo.”
Tayvis almost laughed. Dace, with what looked like cake down her front, was being pulled out of a restaurant by a man who could only be Jerimon Pai, her copilot. They both looked very guilty, and very afraid.
“The two of them seem to have started a planet-wide war between the Targon Syndicate and the local branch of the Gypsy Family.” The commander’s mouth twisted, like he’d bitten into something foul. “It’s going to take m
onths to sort it all back out.”
“So where are they now?” Tayvis asked, trying to keep his voice distant.
“We lost track of them somewhere in the city.”
“Try calling the Swan. I believe it’s docked at Station Three.” Tayvis dropped the photo on the commander’s desk. “I’ve been chasing her across two sectors.”
“And if we apprehend her, you’ll take her away and I will never get any answers or satisfaction.”
“She’s facing charges on half-a-dozen worlds. Why should you be special?”
“What is she? The head of a new syndicate? I have a hard time believing that.” The commander reached for his com.
“You should also prepare for some very irate Sessimoniss. They weren’t more than a few hours behind me.”
The commander froze, his hand hovering above the connect button.
“I don’t have time to give you a full briefing,” Tayvis said, impatient now. Dace was close, he didn’t want her slipping away again. “I’ll send it to you. Send orders to detain the Swan.”
“The Swan is a Family ship. There will be problems.” The commander hesitated.
“I’ll take responsibility for it.” Tayvis waited, wanting to call himself, knowing he’d get little or no cooperation if he tried.
The commander pushed the button. “Verrance, have someone contact Station Three and detain the Swan.” A voice squawked in protest. “Just do it, Verrance.” The commander let go of the button. “What other bad news are you bringing me? Besht was unstable before. Now it may take martial law to restore order.” He scanned incoming reports.
Tayvis waited, tapping his finger impatiently on the photo.
The commander’s com beeped. He pushed the button without looking. “Yes?”
“Sir, the Swan is gone. She undocked fifteen minutes ago.”
“Do you have any cruisers on patrol?” Tayvis leaned on the desk. Dace was too close to let her slip away again.
“They’re keeping order on the stations,” the commander answered, shaking his head.
