by Jaleta Clegg
"Tivor is your home," she threw at me. "You were born here."
"And I'll die here, unless I can avoid it." I shook my head. "Tivor has never been my home."
She frowned, puzzled by my answer. She studied me a long moment and then switched subjects.
"You told me you could bring in the Patrol. Where are they? Or isn't this enough of a civil war to merit their interference?"
"They aren't coming," Paltronis said, stepping forward.
"Who are you?" Rian demanded.
"Commander Paltronis, of the Enforcers, currently on special assignment. And this," she pointed over her shoulder at Scholar, "is Henrius Grey, data specialist, on assignment with me."
"And I suppose those are your weapons and tactics specialists?" Rian said, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she pointed at the other three with us.
Paltronis shook her head. "They aren't Patrol. This is Xia, leader of the rebel troops who are currently fighting the army in the mountains."
Rian shifted her gaze back and forth, her forehead pinched into creases by doubt.
"The other two are her parents," Paltronis continued. "They were helping me."
"Do what?" Rian demanded.
"Find her," she said, jerking her thumb at me. "Admiral Dace of the Enforcers, currently missing in action. At least that's the official word until I can get her files updated."
Rian shifted her stare to me. "Admiral?"
I shrugged.
The room was silent while she studied us, making her decision. She was the one in charge. The other two in the room hadn't spoken or even moved while she questioned us.
"Where is the Patrol Fleet?" Rian asked Paltronis.
"The Patrol has pulled back, probably to Besht, if not further," Paltronis answered.
"Then what good are you to me? Will they come for you?"
It was Paltronis' turn to shrug.
"How are you getting home, then?" she said, turning on me.
"I don't know," I answered honestly.
"There's one ship still in port," she informed us. "You help us and we'll help you get to the ship. You'll have to convince the captain to take you."
"And what if they leave before we're through helping you?" Scholar asked.
"That's a chance you'll have to take." Rian hesitated only a moment before adding, "They're waiting for something. I'm not sure what. Rumor is that the Patrol still on Tivor are with them. Maybe they're waiting for you." She turned to Paltronis.
"If they even know we're here," Scholar muttered.
"What do you want from us?" Paltronis asked.
"What do you have to offer?" Rian countered.
Negotiations for our future had begun. We didn't have much to offer. But then, neither did Rian.
Chapter 38
The shuttle docked with a clang that echoed in the almost empty docking bay. It was unnaturally quiet. Even during the dead of night, the space should have been filled with the sounds of ships. The ships were gone, on their way to Tebros with their load of refugees. Lowell tried not to fidget. The force cuffs on his wrists itched. Hector Vidalis stood next to him, looking stoic and resigned to his fate. His silver uniform was only a bit rumpled. Stationmaster Cartrane stepped forward and clapped Hector on the shoulder.
"Sorry about this," he said quietly. The lights above hatch fourteen were slowly switching to green as the station umbilicals attached to the shuttle.
Hector nodded. "I understand."
"We'll drink a cold one to you," Cartrane added. "This won't be forgotten."
Lowell didn't roll his eyes only with an effort. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his own stomach. And the fear making his shoulders itch. Was this how his agents felt? He'd sent other people to the same kind of situation, but he'd never actually been in this position before. It was strange, and not pleasant at all.
The hatch cycled and opened. Five men in full battle gear marched into the station. They wore Patrol uniforms, but the emblem had been ripped away along with any rank or other insignia. Lowell narrowed his eyes in thought as he eyed the men.
"Your answer?" the lead one demanded of Cartrane.
"We'll listen to your offer," Cartrane answered.
"We already gave you an offer," the man answered.
Cartrane pushed Lowell and Hector forward. "Here's the Patrol. Now spare the rest of the station. We don't want your trouble, whatever it is."
"You've got it anyway," the man said, his voice low and threatening. "Two officers? You expect us to believe this is all your Patrol?"
"The others evacuated," Cartrane objected. "These are the only two left."
Lowell expected the man to shout, to throw a fit and make a scene. He didn't. He signaled his men. They backed away to the shuttle hatch.
"So be it," the man said. "You had your chance."
"Wait," Cartrane shouted desperately as the leader boarded the shuttle.
The hatch hissed closed. Lowell wondered what decompression would feel like. He didn't expect the men to bother disconnecting from the station. He fully expected them to blast away, tearing a hole in the docking bay in the process.
There was a loud clang, a muffled blast, and the quiet hiss of air.
"Emergency docking release," one of the station security men said. His voice quivered with relief.
"Patch that breach," Cartrane ordered. He looked sick, and scared. "The rest of you, get to the core. I doubt they're going to wait."
They started away, moving quickly through the deserted halls. Cartrane stopped Lowell and Hector long enough to snap the cuffs off.
"I guess your sacrifice won't be necessary after all," Lowell quipped.
"We're probably all going to die soon enough," Cartrane said. "It was worth a shot. Too bad they didn't buy it."
The first barrage slammed into the station. The lights flickered. Sirens whooped through the halls. Cartrane glanced behind them. The tech who'd patched the small leak from the shuttle ran towards them. Cartrane waited until he'd passed by before pushing the call button on his hand com.
"They didn't buy it. We're clear of the first level. Close the bulkheads."
Panels made of blast steel rumbled down from the ceiling. Cartrane turned back around.
"Go, you idiots. Unless you want to be trapped out here. You'd better run."
They ran. Cartrane paused just long enough at each level to give the order to close the bulkhead doors. They were thick, designed to protect the station if part of the hull was breached. They might buy some time.
Another volley of shots hit the station. The lights went off and stayed off. Cartrane flicked on a handlight. They kept moving.
One of the techs opened an emergency access hatch at the end of the hall. They climbed in. There was a ladder leading up into the heart of the station. Cartrane prodded them onto the ladder. He brought up the rear.
The station's gravity fluctuated. The air was thick. Everything not essential had been shut down. They climbed as fast as they could.
There was another hatch at the far end of the ladder. More of the station staff grabbed them, pulling them up and through as fast as they could. The hatch slammed shut behind Cartrane.
"Did you get the shield realigned?" he demanded as the echoes of the hatch closing died away.
"Barely," one of his techs answered. "We've got the emergency backup feed to the station power plant in. If the plant goes, it won't matter. Nothing will matter if that blows."
Another blast shook the station. The people crowded into the core held on to whatever was handy. The space was designed for a handful of engineers, not a crowd of over a hundred. But it was the only place that might offer refuge.
"Is there anything I can do?" Lowell asked when the shaking stopped. The lights were dim, barely emergency levels.
"Sit and wait, unless you happen to be an engineer," Cartrane said.
Lowell shook his head. Cartrane moved off, his people following in his wake. Lowell found an unoccupied corner and settled i
n. It was going to be a long wait.
Children huddled in the next alcove. He watched their harried mothers trying to keep them calm and quiet. They had their hands full with the little ones. The older children were restless and scared. Lowell moved until he was at the edge of their group.
"Do you want to hear a story?" he asked.
The children looked at him with wary interest.
"Who are you?" one girl asked.
"My name's Lowell. What's yours?"
"Elspith," she lisped. "And he's Tomris, my stinky little brother."
"I know a story about the stinkiest little brother in the Empire," Lowell offered.
Elspith giggled. "Nobody's stinkier than Tomris." Tomris looked outraged.
"Funny you should say that," Lowell said, settling back against the wall. The children were at least paying attention to him, not to the muffled sounds of things blowing up outside their makeshift refuge. "This little brother's name was also Tomris."
The children shifted closer. One mother shot him a grateful look as she settled a small toddler into her lap.
"Tomris had three older sisters, though," Lowell continued. "They all thought he was the stinkiest brother in the Empire. But not everyone else thought that. The Emperor decided one day to hold a contest for the stinkiest little brother."
"The Emperor wouldn't do that," an older boy objected.
"Have you met him?" Lowell asked.
The boy shook his head.
"Then how do you know he wouldn't do such a thing?"
"Everyone knows the Emperor is too busy with important things," another girl chimed in.
"Not always," Lowell said. "He likes to have fun, too. And a stinkiest little brother contest sounded fun to him. He didn't have any little brothers, only one sister and she wasn't stinky at all."
"How do you know he thought it was fun?" the same boy challenged.
"Because I've met him," Lowell said. "Emperor Max likes to have fun now and then, when ruling the Empire gets too boring. All that bowing and being called Excellency and Majesty, it can really get depressing some days. He doesn't get to play games much either, because the royal wardrobe mistress would get mad at him for getting his fancy robes dirty. So, sometimes, he holds silly contests just for fun."
"You did not meet the Emperor," the boy said. "You're making this up."
"All right, I am making up the stinkiest little brother contest, but not the rest." Lowell watched the boy with interest. It had been a long time since he'd been around children. They were refreshing, honest and open and yet much more devious than adults gave them credit for being.
"Are you really a Admiral?" another boy asked.
Lowell shook his head with a smile. "I just like to pretend sometimes."
"Then what are you?" the boy asked.
"Higher than Admiral. High enough that I could help judge the stinkiest little brother contest."
The boy opened his mouth to ask more questions. One of the girls nudged him. "Shut up, Hugh, I want to hear the story."
They all turned to Lowell, waiting expectantly for him to continue.
"The stinkiest little brother contest was open to anyone," Lowell continued, making it up as he went. "Everyone thought their little brother was stinkiest. Emperor Max knew he would have to find some way to judge who was stinkiest so he devised a plan. He would have several contests, challenges for the stinkiest little brothers. Only the stinkiest could possibly solve each puzzle."
The children listened in fascination as he spun out his story. Lowell enjoyed himself. He had the children laughing and giggling and gasping in horror as his story unfolded. Tomris, the stinky little brother, became Tomris the champion of the Emperor's beautiful daughter whose cruel uncle had imprisoned her. Only a stinky little brother could be clever enough to find a way through the uncle's traps to rescue her.
By the time the attack was over, the children were spellbound. They insisted Lowell tell them more about Tomris and Madilene, the Emperor's resourceful daughter. There was nothing else to do until they could restore some power to the rest of the station, so Lowell kept talking.
"Excuse me," Cartrane interrupted as Tomris was being rescued from Justine the Evil Witch by Madilene and her band of handmaidens.
"Yes?" Lowell asked.
"Admiral Lowell will have to finish the story later," Cartrane told the children. "I need to talk to him now."
The children protested as Lowell stood, shaking life back into his legs. He was too old to sit on the floor. "I'll come back later," he promised the children.
"Time to sleep," one of the mothers said.
"I'm hungry," one child whined.
"I need to go potty," another one added.
The others chorused in with their complaints.
"Glad I rescued you?" Cartrane asked as they walked away, up the core towards the control stations.
"Just in time," Lowell answered. "I was starting to run out of ideas."
Cartrane laughed. "I never figured you for a storyteller. The rest of us appreciated the quiet."
"Why weren't they evacuated with the rest?"
"Because there wasn't room or time. Their parents had to stay. My own two children are back there. My wife refused to go. She's one of our power techs."
"What's the situation now?" Lowell asked as they reached the first tall bank of controls.
"Power's out everywhere but here and we're running on backups. We shut down the main power core to keep it from exploding and taking the whole station with it. The tertiary generator should be online within the hour, though." Cartrane stopped near a clustered group of techs. "We're blind and deaf and dumb. No scans or com. All the antennas were blown off. We don't know how bad damage is yet. We've got three evac suits in here. A team is leaving shortly. There haven't been any attacks for the last hour so we're assuming they've left."
"You brought me here to tell me this? How do you want me to help?"
"Tell me what you know about this. You've used this station before. We know who you are. Commander Vidalis told us."
Lowell looked at the circle of accusing faces and shrugged. "They aren't Patrol, though they may have wanted us to think that. I doubt they're Federation, either. The Federation doesn't work through threats."
"Then who are they?" a woman demanded. "You know. You have to know."
Lowell shook his head. "I don't know. I can guess a few things."
"Like what?" Cartrane asked.
"The equipment and ships they had were stolen from Lukator over a year ago by one of the crime syndicates. My guess is that they want to start a shooting war between the Empire and the Federation."
"Why?" Cartrane asked. "And why attack us?"
Lowell shrugged again. "Because that's what they do? The crime syndicates stand to gain a lot of power and territory if a real war starts. Viya Station was accessible. Plenty of ships to carry news of what happened but few ships with weapons or the capability to fight them off. Someone knew your situation here."
"We had a full Patrol squadron here up until three weeks ago," Cartrane said. "They left without telling us anything."
"They left us open to attack," the woman said.
Lowell wondered what it would feel like to be lynched. This crowd looked capable of doing it. Hector stepped forward, saving him for the moment. Both of them might be lynched if they didn't like what he had to say.
"We had orders to fall back to Besht. The Patrol was ordered to abandon this sector. All of us were supposed to be gone two months ago."
"You were going to leave us undefended?"
"No," Hector answered. "This is my home, too. A lot of us chose to pretend we never saw those orders. Commander Blaise didn't dare enforce them."
They turned to Lowell, silently demanding answers. Lynching was still very much a possibility.
"I didn't know about the orders," Lowell said. "I've been out of touch for a while." It sounded lame even to him. "I knew they were planning on falling back, but I didn
't expect them to leave you open to attack. I'm sorry," he added for good measure.
"Is Tebros going to send help?" Cartrane asked.
"Tebros itself will," Lowell answered, "even if the Patrol won't or can't respond, there are others who will." He'd made certain of that. Half of Dace's business interests were based on Tebros. Amon knew where to send Lowell's message.
"Then we just have to survive until they get here." Cartrane detailed three of his techs to use the evac suits to see how badly they were crippled.
"What do you want me to do?" Lowell offered.
"Go back and finish your story," Cartrane answered. "Keeping them quiet and calm will help us more than anything. I need my techs working, not dealing with their children."
"A babysitter," Lowell said with a grin. "I don't know if I should consider it a promotion or demotion. I'll be happy to watch them, Stationmaster."
He pretended he didn't hear Cartrane's comment as he walked away. He'd been called worse things than odd.
He spun out his story until the children were asleep and he was yawning. Power levels were still down. He had no idea how the repairs were coming, no one came to report to him. He found himself drowsing, a child snuggled up on either side. He leaned back against the wall, trying to get comfortable. He let himself doze off.
"Lowell." The whisper was urgent. The hand shaking him awake was not gentle.
He snapped his eyes open. He recognized the woman scan tech, the younger one with the dark hair and scared eyes. She nudged him again, making sure he was awake.
"Cartrane wants you, now," she said.
He untangled himself from the nest of sleeping children and followed her back to the control panels. Someone had been very busy while he was telling stories. Half the panels had been opened. Wires trailed everywhere across the floor.
Cartrane and the others were gathered around a makeshift unit plugged into the back of a tower of controls. Lowell pushed forward until he could see. They were gathered around a single screen, a com screen. The face on the screen was teasingly familiar but Lowell couldn't make the connection.
