Chain of Secrets

by Jaleta Clegg

  "They shouldn't keep you locked up like this," she said finally.

  "Why not? What else would you do with me?"

  "Listen to you. Trust you. Because you've given us no reason not to."

  "I ran out on you, I went into the city by myself and found a policeman to talk to." I couldn't help the sarcastic edge to my voice.

  "Because no one told you anything. You didn't know to trust us."

  "You're defending me now? Why?"

  "Because I don't think you should be locked in here and tied up for days. And you told the truth. We should be working with you."

  "There's more to it, isn't there?" I reached for the knots around my ankles. She made no move to stop me. "Who was the policeman I talked to?"

  I saw her guilty start. She shook her head, denying it.

  "That's just great. No one trusts anyone, everyone plotting with everyone else behind everyone's backs." It was too familiar. I hated it. I was going to give Lowell a black eye when and if I saw him again.

  Someone called something down the hall. Rian jumped at the sound. She leaned over me, picking up the tray. "They're wondering what's taking so long in here. Be ready tonight."

  "For what? Aren't you going to tie me up again?"

  "Trust me and trust whoever comes to get you." She picked up my tray and left.

  She'd left me untied, although she locked the door. I worked over my hands and feet for a while until the prickling feeling in them faded.

  Trust her? What had that meant? What was going on? Lowell had sent me here to leave the world in chaos, to find my mother's memories and finish what she started. They didn't need any help starting their civil war.

  I leaned against the wall and shivered. There was nothing I could do but wait. So I waited. I fell asleep again.

  I had a nightmare, a bizarre mix of my own memories. People screamed and shouted. Things exploded. Something was burning. I had to run to escape but I couldn't move. I hated those dreams. I finally managed to open my eyes.

  The room filled with smoke. People screamed. I heard weapons. This wasn't a dream. I scrambled to my feet.

  The door was securely locked. I couldn't have picked this one even if they hadn't taken all three sets of lockpicks. I banged on it.

  Someone shouted, "Police!" The voice was deep and full of authority.

  The screaming and shooting intensified. I stopped banging on the door. I crouched on the floor next to it. Boots tramped past. The smoke wafted away. I wiped my dripping nose on my sleeve.

  Things grew quiet, ominously so. Then something big exploded and the screaming started again. The wall behind me shook with another explosion. I covered my head with my hands when pieces of the ceiling started falling.

  The door swung open. A dark figure peered in. I stayed where I was, unsure whether I wanted found or not. He saw me anyway.

  "This way. Hurry." It was the policeman who'd tailed me into the orphanage. He grabbed my shoulder, pulling me to my feet and pushing me down the hallway.

  "Are you arresting me?"

  "There isn't time for this." He pushed me into a run. He kept his hand on my shoulder.

  I heard more police ahead, giving orders. He pulled me into a different hallway, away from the voices.

  They were in front of us. He shoved me into a dark doorway, pushing me behind him.

  "Stay quiet," he said. He blocked the doorway as police came running down the hall. As soon as they were past, he yanked me back out.

  He dragged me with him down the dark hall. Smoke drifted through the air. The sounds of fighting faded behind us. He slammed open a door and pulled me out into a rainy night. Water poured over us. He ducked his head and ran, dragging me with him. He didn't stop running until we were blocks away. He finally slowed down.

  I jerked my arm free and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. I coughed, trying to clear my lungs of smoke.

  He reached to take my arm again. I moved out of his way.

  "Why are you doing this?" I wiped water out of my eyes. I was shivering again, worse than before.

  "There isn't time. We have to hide before they realize I'm gone."

  "You're police, why haven't you arrested me? Why didn't you turn me in?"

  He didn't answer. He looked nervously back the way we'd come.

  "Answer one question," I said. He glanced back at me. "Are you going to tie me up or hit me?"

  I saw his teeth flash in the reflected light from a streetlamp a block away. "No. Do you want me to?"

  "Everyone else wants to." I pushed away from the wall. I was fairly certain I wouldn't fall on my face if I let go.

  "There's a place not far from here where we can hide."

  He took my arm. He wasn't going to let me get away. I didn't bother trying. We walked quickly down deserted streets. He picked a warehouse, seemingly at random, and led me around the side of it. He shoved a door open.

  It was dark. He took my hand. His was warm.

  "Watch your step," he whispered.

  I tripped over whatever it was anyway. He caught me and put me back on my feet. I stumbled behind him in the dark for a few more minutes. He pushed my head down and pulled me through a low door.

  "Wait here." He let go of my hand.

  A light flickered, a small hand lantern. The policeman set it on a table made from an old box. We were in a small room, an old utility room for the warehouse to judge from the multitude of pipes and wires lining the walls. It was completely enclosed. The door we'd come through was an access hatch, barely large enough to step through.

  "We're quite safe here," he told me.

  "How can I trust that to be true?"

  "I'm the only one who knows about it."

  "You're police. Why are you doing this?"

  "That's going to take some time to answer. Please, sit." He waved towards a battered cushion on the floor.

  I shivered again. My clothes dripped rain. I made no move towards the cushion. He glanced at the puddle around my feet.

  "I should have some dry clothes here someplace." He bent to rummage through another box. He stood after a moment, a worn bundle of cloth in his hand.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "My name's Tilyn. And yours is either Disia, Dace, or Zeresthina."

  Ice raced through my veins. He'd traced me a lot farther than I thought anyone could. Either that, or Lowell hadn't followed through on his promise to hide my records.

  "I don't believe you're Ludai McDavish," he continued. "She's the wrong size and coloring. And yes, it took a lot of luck to track you down. That's what it was, pure luck. Someone went to great pains to hide you."

  "So, if you know who I am, you know why I'm here."

  "I know who your mother was, true."

  I studied him in the faint light of the hand lantern. I read nothing in his face.

  "I'm here to finish what she started," I said baldly. "Why are you helping me? Why not turn me in to your superiors?"

  "Maybe because I believe in the cause. Maybe because I believe the government needs to fall. Who are the other groups you're working with? The raid tonight was just a secondary group."

  "So now the truth comes out. You saved me hoping that I'd be so overwhelmed with gratitude that I'd betray the rest of the rebellion."

  "I'm not stupid enough to believe you'd do that. Why did they have you locked up?"

  "Because they don't trust me either." I shivered, cold water from my hair trickled down my neck. "What will you do to me when I can't tell you where the rest are hiding?"

  "Nothing. Whether you believe me or not isn't important. I rescued you because I believe you can be of help."

  "For which side?"

  "Tivor's. A civil war won't solve anything. It will only cause more misery."

  "So you're a secret sympathizer? I'm supposed to buy that story?"

  "And you're a Patrol spy. I don't buy your story, either. There are too many mistakes you've made. You're here on your own, looking for family for some
reason of your own. And the rebellion just happened to pick you up."

  "What mistakes?" I asked before I could stop myself.

  He smiled, amused. "You got caught on a camera sneaking in through the warehouse, although you left no other traces. If we hadn't had that photo, we would never have known you were on the planet. First mistake. Your second mistake was thinking you could pass as a native. You may have been born here, but you aren't Tivoran anymore. Your third mistake . . ." He stopped, lifting his head to listen.

  "What?" I demanded.

  "You have to run, back that way." He pointed to the far side of the room where a narrow tunnel crowded with pipes led into darkness.

  "I don't know if I can," I said truthfully. I didn't want to crawl into that tunnel. I was tired and wet and cold and it was very dark and very small in the tunnel.

  "They're coming," he said. "I don't know how they traced me here, but they did."

  "So you save face and gain my trust by pretending to help me escape. Very clever."

  "And dead wrong. Please, Zeresthina, trust me."

  "The name is Dace, and I don't trust you. Why drag me out of the raid just to let me get captured again?"

  "I had orders to find you and gain your confidence, yes, but I can't turn you in to them. They use torture."

  "It won't be the first time," I said.

  The door creaked. It was bolted from the inside but it wasn't going to hold long.

  "You have to go now," Tilyn insisted. "I'll stall them. Tell them you overpowered me or something."

  "And then you'll just hunt me down again. Why don't I save everyone the trouble and let myself get caught?"

  Tilyn wasn't happy with my answer. But there was no time and the tunnel was too dark and I was too tired. We stood there, dripping and watching each other, while the door was battered in.

  Police in dark uniforms poured into the room. I was surrounded. They shoved me at the wall and searched me. At least they wouldn't find anything, Rian and her rebels had already taken everything but my clothes. My hands were jerked behind me and cuffed.

  A slender man stepped into the room. His close clipped hair was gray at the temples, giving him a distinguished look. He wore a dark suit, not a uniform. He gave me a single dismissive glance.

  "Good work, Tilyn," he said. "Interesting hideout. How long have you known about this one?"

  "I located it two years ago," Tilyn admitted.

  "And you never mentioned it? Holding out on me is not a good idea."

  "I thought it might come in handy someday, sir. I would have told you if it were necessary."

  "We would not have found you if I hadn't had a transmitter planted on you this morning." The man's smile was cold and unforgiving. "You were planning on double crossing me. I recorded everything. You are stripped of your rank. You will report to the train in the morning."

  Tilyn's face paled. He nodded. His shoulders sagged.

  The man turned to me.

  "What name do you prefer? We found a number of them in your records. Which is the real name? Zeresthina Dasmuller, born here twenty seven years ago. Your mother was a traitor, of the worst sort. Are you here to continue her work?"

  I didn't answer. The policeman behind me shoved me.

  "Violence is not necessary," the older man said as I recovered my balance. He stepped forward and grabbed my chin in his hand. His eyes were pale blue and cold. "You have a choice, Zeresthina. You can tell me all about the rebellion or you can join Investigator Tilyn on the work farms." He let go of my face.

  "Since I don't know anything, it would be difficult for me to tell you."

  He slapped me, knocking my head to the side. "Don't be impudent. Take her back and prepare her for questioning." His cold eyes bored into me. I looked away.

  "Yes, Inspector Kuran," the man behind me answered.

  He pushed me through the low entrance. The warehouse outside was bright with temporary lights. I was escorted through the warehouse and outside. Rain still poured from the clouds overhead. My escort pushed me into the backseat of a ground car, the first I'd seen on Tivor. He shoved me to the middle of the seat and climbed in beside me. He tapped the partition separating us from the driver. The ground car rolled into motion.

  I stared out the window at the rain. I'd failed. I was soon going to be dead. And I couldn't make myself care.

  We stopped in front of a large building. The ground car drove around the side and parked in a covered area. The door opened and my guard got out. I was dragged out and marched into the building.

  They took me to a tiny room and left me there, locking my hands behind me, the cuff chain threaded through the back of the chair they pushed me into. I sat under a single bright light. The chair was uncomfortable enough I couldn't pretend to sleep. I slowly dried out.

  The door finally banged open. Kuran stepped into the pool of light around me. A woman in a long gray tunic followed. She pushed a cart covered with medical equipment.

  They shot me full of drugs that made me sick. And then they used their equipment, designed originally to heal and help, to hurt me. It didn't matter how loud I screamed. I couldn't tell them what they wanted to know because I didn't know anything. I could have lied, but I didn't know enough to lie convincingly.

  I tried to pass out. The woman kept me awake with her drugs. Something she gave me heightened my nerve sensitivity. Everything hurt a lot more after that.

  Kuran finally stepped away. I sagged in the chair, breathing raggedly. I was bleeding from dozens of places. I ached. The drugs had me so wired I was twitching.

  "She knows nothing. Send her to the farms." He walked away, turning his back on me.

  They released the cuffs holding me in the chair. I collapsed, sliding down to the floor. Two policemen entered. They picked me up and dragged me out of the room.

  I was taken lower down in the building to a tunnel with widely spaced metal railings running through it. A dozen rounded cars were hooked together behind a weird shaped engine. There was only one door still open. The policemen dragged me to the open door and threw me inside. The door slid shut.

  I was alone in a compartment that stank of fear and vomit and worse. I curled up on the floor as the train lurched into motion. I twitched and cried until the drugs finally wore off and I managed to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  Kuran sat in his office, ostensibly reviewing files and preparing for the upcoming meeting with the Imperial delegation sent to Tivor. He stared out his window instead. He was tired. He'd spent the whole night trying to get information out of the Patrol spy. She hadn't known anything. In a few hours she would be safely on a work farm, no longer a problem for anyone but the farm supervisor.

  The rain had finally cleared, after drowning the city all night. The sky was broken clouds with a hint of watery sun showing. The temperature dropped as the storm passed. He shivered, though the heating system in his office was much better than those in the rest of the city. Only Citizen Prime Potokos and his advisors were more comfortable. Rank definitely did have its privileges.

  He swiveled his chair around to his desk and the papers stacked there. The Emperor had finally sent a representative to meet with them. Tivor had finally become important enough to notice, but only because they were in a crucial position to keep trade flowing into the Inner Worlds. The Federation was eating up the fringe worlds at an alarming rate, at least alarming to the Empire.

  He smiled. The meeting with the Federation representative three days ago had gone well. The woman they sent was naive, idealistic, and easily manipulated. She had left, eagerly clutching the proposed agreement. If he played it right, Kuran could find himself governor of Tivor, instead of head of security. With or without the Federation, he planned on sitting in that office within three months anyway.

  There was a knock at his door.

  "Come," he called.

  The door opened to admit Tilyn. "You sent for me?" Tilyn looked tired and worn by the night's events.

  "You
played your hand well," Kuran congratulated him. "I could almost believe you really were trying to help her escape. It's a very good thing that your loyalty is not in question." He made the statement an implied threat.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Your leanings are not unknown," Kuran continued. "Your sympathies with the resistance movement are also not unknown. Was it a mistake to assign you to make contact with them? Your duty is clear, Tilyn. You were to infiltrate their organization so we could arrest those involved, not so you could facilitate their rebellion."

  Tilyn wisely kept his mouth shut. Kuran studied him for a long moment.

  "What of this agent sent by the Empire?" Kuran asked. "I got nothing useful from her. Tell me what you know of her."

  "I told you before," Tilyn answered.

  "You'd made contact with her, a brief conversation that you yourself admitted was strange. Why were you trying to hide her?"

  "The resistance didn't trust her, either. They kept her locked up. Which is why it took me so long to track her down."

  "Why do they not trust her?" Kuran leaned back in his chair, hands folded under his chin and elbows propped on the arms.

  Tilyn shifted his feet. "They claimed her mother betrayed the rebellion. They think she's here to do the same thing."

  "And you? What do you think of her?"

  Tilyn shrugged. "I don't know what to think of her. She doesn't fit."

  "Perhaps I should follow through on my initial impulse," Kuran said. "Perhaps I should send you to the work farms. You could gain her sympathy and trust working beside her."

  Tilyn repressed a shudder at Kuran's threat. The work farms were brutal, especially in the winter.

  Kuran watched him with a gaze hard as flint and just as forgiving. "You are officially on leave for two more days. I expect a report on the activities of the rebellion within three days."

  "You wish me to continue to contact them?"

  "And be very careful that your loyalty to me is not called into question. I will have their organization broken within a month, with or without your help."

  "Yes, sir."

  "You may go."