by Jaleta Clegg
So why was she really here? That question depended on who she really was. He had what he needed now to answer that question.
He walked out of the abandoned building. The sky overhead was gray with clouds. The brief moment of sun might have never been.
There was no sign of the woman on the street. He wasn't worried. Milaga had few places where she could possibly hope to hide. He looked forward to the challenge of finding her again. She was more resourceful than he anticipated, which only made the chase that much more satisfying.
It was raining again when he reached headquarters, a cold drizzle of late autumn rain. He hurried inside and went to his cramped corner. The window was misted again. The heater in the building only worked sporadically. He ignored it. He had a mystery to solve, one that promised to be more interesting than the last dozen.
He would try her prints first. He sat at his desk and downloaded the two smudged prints into the police datanet. He clicked the proper buttons on his desk comp. And then he waited. The system was old, an antique on most planets. It was the fastest system on Tivor, though.
He had to manually adjust the prints, trying to clarify them for the system. Once they were ready, he sat back, thinking. She was from offworld. He would have the best luck finding her in the Imperial files. If she was even listed. There were trillions of people in the Empire. Not even the Patrol could possibly have a file on all of them. He'd just have to trust his luck that the woman would be in the files he did have access to.
He decided to try the commercial files first. Anyone who traveled in space more than just once or twice would be there. He pushed the buttons and sat back to wait.
"You busy, Tilyn?"
He was very tempted to say he was very busy and would be for the next ten years, but it wouldn't matter to Vedkar. No one liked Vedkar. But no one could afford to offend him either. He had Kuran's ear and was well known as the government spy inside the police department. All loyalty to the leaders of our glorious world, Tilyn thought with more than a little sarcasm.
"I'm in the middle of something, yes," he told Vedkar.
It didn't stop Vedkar from weaseling his pudgy self into Tilyn's corner and perching his behind on the edge of Tilyn's desk. Tilyn looked away, back to his comp screen.
"I have something I think you want," Vedkar said.
Tilyn sat back, leaning in his chair. There was nothing Vedkar had that he could possibly want.
"It's about that woman Kuran wants you to find." Vedkar smiled. His eyes disappeared into his fat cheeks. "I got a copy of her id from the security station."
Tilyn waited for Vedkar to give him the information. Vedkar didn't move. He just sat on Tilyn's desk and smiled.
"May I have it, please?" Tilyn finally asked.
"Kuran wants her found," Vedkar said as he pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket. "Within the day." He dropped the paper on the desk when he stood.
"I found her," Tilyn said, poking the wad of paper with his stylus. "She isn't a threat. Not an immediate one. I'm still working on identifying her."
"Her id is there," Vedkar said and pointed at the paper.
"And you think it has her real name and information?" Tilyn couldn't resist baiting him. Vedkar took incompetence at police work to a whole new level.
"Id's cannot be faked," Vedkar said pompously.
"Anything can be faked, if there is enough incentive," Tilyn said absently.
He was intrigued by the woman. Why was Kuran so insistent she be found and identified? Something big was up. He smoothed the paper flat so he could read it.
"Disia Uvanos." He leaned closer to study the face on the id. It was blurred, a bad copy, but it was definitely the woman.
"See? It is her," Vedkar said, pointing a fat finger at the paper.
"Her picture, yes. But if I ran this name, I doubt I'd get back real information."
"Then why don't you run the name?" Vedkar asked.
"Because I'm running her fingerprints right now," Tilyn said with false patience. "I'll run the name later." He wanted Vedkar to leave. Vedkar didn't take the hint.
"If you already found her, then where is she? Why didn't you arrest her?"
"Because she isn't a threat. And because she might lead us to more important people. I'm having her watched." It was a stretch of the truth, but Vedkar couldn't tell truth from lies if his life depended on it. Tilyn was confident he could find her, when he wanted to again.
He was hoping Vedkar would get bored and leave before he got a hit on her prints. He wasn't that lucky. His machine beeped all too soon. Vedkar leaned forward, squinting at the screen.
"Ludai McDavish," he read, mangling the pronunciation.
"Do you mind?" Tilyn asked, waiting for Vedkar to move back, out of the way. He finally nudged Vedkar with his elbow.
Vedkar stood back, rocking on his heels. "We got her."
Tilyn ignored Vedkar while he scrolled through the file. Ludai McDavish was a cargo handler, third class, who had worked a series of ships. Her file was dotted with incompetence ratings. And, according to the file, she had never come within two hundred light years of Tivor. She was also tall and very dark skinned. Her hair should have been flaming red. He shook his head, admiring the clever person who had planted this false lead.
"It isn't her," he said, forgetting Vedkar was still there.
"It isn't?" Vedkar said, radiating surprise.
"Not unless she's grown a foot and dyed her hair and skin."
"But you can't fake records like that."
"Apparently you can."
Tilyn dawdled, printing the entire file and reading it slowly. Vedkar finally puffed out a heavy sigh.
"Kuran wants her, soon," he said.
"He'll have her," Tilyn answered absently.
Vedkar left, strutting past the other desks and police officers.
Tilyn waited until Vedkar was gone from his space before cross referencing the file on Ludai McDavish. Everything checked out as it should, the file was legitimate. Except it was linked to someone else's fingerprints.
He tried running them through the Patrol database next, but the Patrol kept their files to themselves, only allowing a select few out to planetary police departments. He got an unknown designation, as he'd expected.
He leaned back in his chair, thinking. Someone had gone to the trouble of hiding her identity. Why?
Tilyn did what he usually did while he was thinking. He pulled up the backlog of news reports and idly scanned through them. It was one of the few things he enjoyed about being part of Potokos' police force. They were allowed some access to outside information. Things were unstable in the Empire. Whole sectors had defected to the Federation. He wondered how many Patrol ships had defected. The public news didn't carry that information. The defections had made Tivor important enough for the Emperor to send officials to negotiate with the Tivoran government for the first time in at least a hundred years. The woman had to be connected.
He scanned back, looking for the first hints that things were not well in the outer fringes of the Empire. The news stories were smaller the farther back in time he went. He slowed down, scanning each page more carefully, looking for the threads that led back.
He opened a new file, a report over a year old. The picture splashed front and center caught his attention immediately. The woman he was hunting was there, sitting at a table with high ranking Patrol officers though she wore a merchant's shipsuit. A man leaned over one shoulder. She was smiling into the camera, as if surprised into it.
Tilyn read the story next to the photo. The woman was Dace, no last name given, captain and part owner of a small trading ship. She was given credit for exposing the threat on the Kumadai Run that had trapped ships for hundreds of years. She was hailed as a hero.
Tilyn leaned back in his chair, frowning. Nothing in the article hinted at why she would be here, on Tivor. The article did make it clear she wasn't Patrol. He studied her picture on his screen. It was definitely the sam
e woman.
He ran the name Dace through the Patrol database and got nothing. He ran it again through the Imperial files. He got a very short file. There was nothing more than her name and her ship ratings. No indication of where she was, what ship she worked, what had happened to the one she owned. Curious, he thought. Someone was hiding her.
The DNA sample would take until tomorrow at the earliest. On a whim he ran her fingerprints through the Tivoran datanet.
He got an answer back far sooner than he expected. He sat up straighter, reading through the file. The implications of what he read made his stomach clench.
She'd changed her name, when she'd left Tivor. But it was her, there was a picture of her, a file photo from the orphanage. It was definitely her. It explained why she'd been in the abandoned building. She'd grown up there.
It wasn't her childhood that made him nervous. It was her mother.
"Zeresthina Dasmuller," he said to himself. He shook his head.
Her mother had been Lirondalla Muberretton, the leader of the last almost successful rebellion on Tivor. Her mother had been directly responsible for the food riots. This woman, Zeresthina Dasmuller or Dace, had to be here for only one purpose—to start another rebellion. And she would have the resources to make it successful this time.
He printed out the files and gathered the pages. He had to tell Kuran. And then he had to mobilize as many men as he could to find her and catch her. Before it was too late.
Kuran was in his office, talking on the com. He kept Tilyn waiting for almost an hour. Tilyn was too controlled to pace, but each wasted moment grated on his nerves. The door to Kuran's office finally opened. Kuran waved him in.
"You've found her?" Kuran asked.
"I talked with her this morning. I got fingerprints and DNA."
"And?"
"I didn't see an immediate threat so I let her go. She should be easy to find again." He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that would be true.
"Then why the rush? Who is she?" Kuran was already turning back to his com.
Tilyn put his papers on Kuran's desk. The photo of her from the old news clipping was on top. Kuran frowned and picked up the sheet.
"It's her, sir," Tilyn said. "I had a hard time tracking her down. Her prints in the Imperial file bring up someone entirely different. She has no Patrol record."
Kuran flipped the photo back onto the desk. "And?" He had an uncanny ability to sense trouble. He pinned Tilyn with a piercing stare.
"Her Imperial records show nothing to be concerned about, but her records here on Tivor do."
"Here?" Kuran's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No one has records here."
"Unless they were born here." Tilyn pulled out the single sheet with the incriminating evidence.
"Summarize it for me," Kuran said.
"I think you'd better read it yourself," Tilyn answered, handing over the page. He wanted to see if Kuran would draw the same conclusions he had.
Kuran scanned the page quickly. He dropped the paper onto the pile, dismissing it. "Different person. There is a slight chance someone would have the same fingerprints. It has happened before."
Tilyn shook his head. "There was a picture. It's her." He slid the sheet back under Kuran's hand. "Look at her mother's name."
Kuran glanced back down at the paper. Then froze.
"I can guess where to look for her," Tilyn began.
"You let her go? Do you know what the resistance people will do when they realize who she is? It won't matter if she's here for that reason or not. I want her found."
"I'll mobilize—"
"No," Kuran stopped him. "I have a better idea. You say you talked with her?"
Tilyn nodded.
"And you felt she was no threat? Tell me about her. Everything. Any impression."
Tilyn stared past his superior, out the streaked window at yet another rainy afternoon, gathering his thoughts.
"She was in the old orphanage. I thought it was odd. I followed her in, watching her. She didn't go there to meet anyone. It's where she grew up." He paused, thinking back over that strange conversation. Kuran didn't interrupt. "She seemed sad. She said she was looking for ghosts. She said that was why she was here." He stopped, struck by a sudden idea. "Her mother is dead, isn't she?"
"For many years now."
"Ghosts. She's here to start a rebellion. She's here to take her mother's place. She has to be stopped."
"Yes, she does, but not before we use her first." Kuran's smile was hard and humorless. "You have a rapport with her, don't you?" It wasn't much of a question, Kuran could read the answer on Tilyn's face.
"She guessed I was police, sir."
"Then you will find her and convince her that you're switching sides. Convince her that you are dissatisfied with the current regime. Convince her you want to join the rebellion. Let her lead you to them."
"And then betray them all?"
"You have sympathies for the resistance movement?"
It was a very dangerous question. Tilyn didn't dare answer.
Kuran's smile softened. "Your leanings are known, but your work here has more than excused you. Hand us the resistance and your life will be much easier in the future. You like solving puzzles, Tilyn. Solve this one and you will be well rewarded."
"And do it quickly, sir?"
"Yes, before the Imperial negotiators arrive. We wouldn't want a messy demonstration to spoil their opinion of Tivor."
"Yes, sir."
"As of now, you are on leave, suspended without pay, for questioning orders. At least officially." Kuran leaned forward, shuffling the papers Tilyn had printed for him. "Find her and nullify any threat she may pose."
"Yes, sir," Tilyn answered again.
He left Kuran's office. The excitement of the puzzle had turned to ashes inside him. He didn't want to betray the resistance. He didn't want the woman, Dace or Zeresthina or Disia or whatever she called herself, to end up in the ruthless hands of those who ruled Tivor. She had a vulnerability about her, something almost innocent in her eyes. And Kuran's guess about Tilyn's sympathies had been closer than Tilyn could afford to admit.
Chapter 6
I walked through the cold rain. It echoed the emptiness inside me. The orphanage had been deserted, empty of everything but ghosts. And a police officer.
I ducked into a doorway, hiding from a heavier gust of rain and checking for anyone behind me. The weather was getting worse. I saw no one and nothing that could possibly be a tail. I shivered, tucking my hands under my arms in an attempt to warm them up.
Why had he let me go? Did they know who I was? I hadn't seen the knowledge in his eyes as he studied me. He suspected me of having ulterior motives. He'd let me go so I'd lead him to the rest of the rebellion. He'd guessed that much. Only I suspected he hadn't guessed the rebellion would be chasing me, too.
Good, keep them all confused, I thought as I stepped back out into the rain. It was late and I was hungry. So far I'd seen nothing even remotely resembling a place to buy food. Things had changed on Tivor. They'd gotten far worse.
I picked my way up a trash-strewn street in a deserted section of town. The buildings were crumbling, no lights showed in any window. As a child, this section had been bustling. This was where people came to get things fixed, anything from a stardrive to a hand drill to a groundcar. This was where I'd first learned to take things apart. And put them back together. This was where I'd run when life at the orphanage had gotten too bleak.
I stopped in front of a weedy lot. What machinery had been left was rapidly turning to rust. This was where Hulio had taught me how to pull couplings and reseat them. There was nothing here now but weeds and ruin. I wiped moisture off my face, telling myself it was only rain.
There was nothing left for me, no people I'd once known, no refuge now. Vague plans of hiding out with an old friend evaporated. I started walking again, tired and hungry, wet and cold.
I didn't pay much attention where I went. I ended up on
a busier street. People hurried past me, heads ducked against the drizzling rain. I joined them, walking with the flow.
A building ahead of me glowed with light. People entered it in a steady stream. I joined the line, going with the path of least resistance. The line slowed once inside. People shuffled tiredly along.
We went through a wide doorway. I was handed a small loaf of bread and a packet of something that resembled cheese. The line snaked to another door. Each person ahead of me showed a booklet to the person there. Before I could think of a way out, it was my turn.
"Ration card?" the guard asked me in a bored voice.
I stared blankly.
"Your ration card," she said sharply.
"I'm sorry, I'm new."
The woman jerked her head at someone behind me. My elbow was taken in a firm grip and I was pulled out of the line. The woman behind me in line showed a card to the woman and walked out the door.
"Just in from the farms?" the man who had my elbow asked. I gave him a blank look. I was too tired and cold to think straight. "Where's your id?"
He took me to a small table, a scarred industrial piece of flat surface. I put down the food I held and fumbled in my pocket. The fake id Rian made for me was there. I pulled it out and handed it to the man.
"Did they issue you a ration card?" he asked. "At your place of employment," he added impatiently at my silence.
I shook my head. Cold drops of rain dripped from the edges of my scarf.
"Did they give you a place to stay? A room in one of the dormitories?"
I shook my head again. What else had Rian and Lief forgotten to tell me yesterday? How much had things on Tivor changed? A lot more than I had thought.
"There you are." It was a voice I knew. Lief hurried up to me.
"You know her?" the man asked Lief.
"She's my new delivery assistant. She's a bit touched in the head but she works hard enough. She must have gotten lost after lunch. I sent her to pick up a package." He turned to me, hands on hips. "Did you forget to collect it? I had to go fetch it myself. I've been looking for you most of the afternoon. I'm half a day behind now."
