Mourner

by Irene Radford

  “Mara, who is that idiot?” he shouted loud enough to be heard through the closed door to her office.

  The images zoomed in for a closer look.

  “Is that . . . is that the Maril ambassador?” he gasped. The audacity of the pilot amazed him. He’d fought Maril. He knew their near telepathic communication between ships. He’d fired at and missed more than he liked to count because the pilots anticipated his shots.

  “Yes, sir. I’ve never seen anything like that kind of precise flying.”

  “I have. Where are they?” None of the wings had numbers or other symbols painted on the exterior. From proximity to the body of the station he guessed they were somewhere near the middle, half way between his command cluster and the Dragons.

  His blood ran cold. “Where are they, Mara?”

  “Sir, they left the empty wing of the Maril cluster a few moments ago. I can’t find a single trajectory to tell where they are heading.”

  “They? You know who’s in there, don’t you.”

  “Yes, sir. Laudae Sissy and her girls entered the shuttle with the Maril ambassador voluntarily.”

  What wasn’t she saying out loud? Empty wing, not fully cold. Sissy and all of her girls. Voluntarily.

  Something Sissy said last night just before they succumbed to their long suppressed desires. She had to return home very shortly.

  Which could only mean she knew where Laud Gregor was.

  Jake looked into the corner where Laud Gregor’s ghost usually hung out. Just a very fine, green-tinted mist lingered there among the potted plants.

  “Don’t think I’m going to miss you, old man.”

  He watched a few more moments, admiring the flight path as only a pilot could. What would he give to have that kind of fine control? What would he give for a ship capable of that kind of control?

  Maybe, just maybe, the Maril were finally willing to trade some of their technology for help with the breakdown of their genetic manipulations.

  If they managed to take down the Dragons.

  “Mara, ask the telepaths if the Dragons colonized other worlds when their planet started dying.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And ask the captain of Star Runner to send Laudae Sissy to me before they embark. I need to say good bye.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Captain Spacer Kalek, with honor I entrust you with the burden of Laud Gregor’s remains.” Sissy bowed formally to the ship’s officer. She gestured toward the open hatch of Ambassador Chtackah’s amazing shuttle. The female stood tall and proud, head dipped in submission. She offered no threat.

  Still, three ship’s officers scuttled around the representative of their ancient enemy. The peace treaty between them was still tentative, not yet signed by all parties.

  “I will guard our HP with my life,” Kalek responded with a deeper bow, hands pressed together over his heart.

  “Let us hope that the conspiracy that robbed our HP of a dignified and respectful funeral has ended.” She didn’t think it had. Norton had disappeared after severe questioning. He had not broken and revealed his cohorts or his puppet master.

  Memory of the impolite Spacer Pilot Norton still sent waves of intimidation through her. He and others like him would prefer to see her executed or confined to an asylum for the sin of bearing all seven caste marks. Stealing Laud Gregor, again, would go a long way toward discrediting her.

  “Have you found Norton?” She wouldn’t dignify him with a caste designation.

  “Rumors only, my Laudae. The conspiracy grows wider every time someone spots him and he disappears again.”

  “Put more people on the search. Returning Laud Gregor to Harmony will not end this problem.”

  “Yes, my Laudae. Now that you have completed your mission, when will you be ready to leave for home?”

  Home? Where was home? She wasn’t certain any more. She had her duty to Harmony, but Harmony no longer felt like the safe haven, the comfortable and comforting place that held her heart. She’d fought for change, and acceptance, every moment since Laud Gregor had discovered her in the quake-destroyed factory that had been her life since beginning work at age twelve. She’d sung her heart into bringing Harmony back into balance, pushing the vibrations of the quake deeper into the planet, away from the vulnerable city. The dust of collapsing walls had invaded her lungs and damaged her lungs. She’d given everything she had to Harmony. The people of Harmony had accepted her sacrifices and appreciated her efforts to bring about change and justice.

  The rulers of Harmony, Laud Gregor at the forefront, had tried to manipulate her unique bond with Harmony. And when she’d refused to agree with them, they had tried to destroy her reputation, or flat out murder her.

  “I have my duty to Harmony, Captain. But I also have a duty to peace among all the peoples who come to First Contact Café for treaties and trade. I also have a duty to break this conspiracy.” She bowed again, first to the captain, then to Ambassador Chtackah. “Many thanks for your help in this delicate matter.” The translating device the Maril still held turned her words into a series of clicks and whistles. “Depart in peace, my friend.”

  The red Maril bowed her acceptance and retreated into her shuttle.

  The officers carried a white feathered bundle on a litter into the shuttle bay of Star Runner.

  “Did you check to see that this is indeed, Laud Gregor?” Captain Kalek asked on a whisper.

  “Don’t even think that. Trust that this is Laud Gregor. For now. Trust me!”

  “I trust only you, my Laudae.” He bowed again.

  Sissy led her girls to the other end of the ship and the airlock that would lead back into the space station. Kalek followed.

  Yes, yes, no, yes, yes, yes, Martha sent to Laudae Sissy as they passed the crew of Star Runner on their way toward the exit into the station. No, yes, yes, yes. The trustworthiness of each shone bright or dim in the layers of energy Ianus had taught her to see surrounding the heads of each person.

  And then they came to the Pilots, none of them Norton. The blackness of hatred hung heavy among them, masking approving energy of the crew on either side of them. Making them all questionable at best. As the HPs of all Harmony approached them they wavered back and forth until the hateful energy infected them.

  Sissy stopped short and looked over her shoulder at Martha, alarm showing in her widening eyes and downturn of her mouth.

  Martha gave her a quick nod and pushed forward, past the miasma of dark emotions and once more into the brightness of people who loved their HPs and felt pride in serving her.

  “Captain Kalek, a word with you, please,” Sissy called to the man who accompanied them through the convoluted passageways of the ship.

  “Yes, my Laudae.” He paused and bowed to Sissy.

  That left Martha and Mary very close to the offensive and offending pilots.

  Die, you bitch.

  Martha reeled, uncertain if she’d heard a male voice with her ears or only in her mind.

  Mary grabbed her arm to keep her upright. “We talked about this, thought it through,” she whispered.

  Sissy slipped her hand through the captain’s arm and proceeded toward the airlock.

  “What troubles you, my Laudae?” the captain asked. He tried to step back and wave Sissy and her girls through the open airlock into the station.

  Sissy clung to him and nearly dragged him onto the deck of the loading bay between mid and light grav on the Harmony diplomatic wing.

  Martha clung to Mary, making sure they stayed within arm’s reach of them.

  Jake waited for them, impatiently tapping his foot. “He’s not in a good mood,” Martha whispered.

  “You don’t need to say so. He broadcasts it with his face, his posture, and that tapping foot—arhythmical to the station vibrations.”

  Martha flashed Sissy a quick smile.

  “Good, General Devlin, you need to hear this too,” Sissy said brightly.

  He held up one finger to si
gnal silence and fussed with one of his gadgets. Then he nodded, still frowning at Sissy.

  She outlined the plan she and the Maril ambassador had put together on that wild shuttle ride.

  “I don’t like it. It’s too dangerous,” Captain Kalek announced.

  “It is dangerous, but then the most brilliant plans often are,” Jake countered. “Do you need extra weapons or personnel to pull this off?”

  “No.” Captain Kalek dismissed Jake’s offer.

  Martha grew easier in her mid-region at Jake’s tacit approval. If anyone could make this work, he could.

  “What I need is for you to keep the spymaster and her long nose out of it. This is Harmony business, not CSS,” Kalek insisted.

  “Agreed.” Jake flashed a small gesture upward, toward one of the many, many security cameras. Undoubtedly Admiral Marella monitored them.

  Then Jake engaged Martha’s gaze. “Did you make notes?”

  Martha wanted to hide behind Mary, as she used to do. She couldn’t hide anymore. She had her duty. “Yes, sir.”

  She gulped and had to force her next words over a suddenly large lump in her throat. She had to ask, and she had to do it soon. “Sir. General Devlin, I formally request refuge aboard The First Contact Café and to have my caste mark removed so that I may become a citizen of this space station and never have to return to Harmony.”

  “What are you up to?” Pamela said into her monitor. Of course Jake couldn’t hear her. Her systems were one way only. He paced back and forth before the Star Runner air lock. Back and forth, forth and back. He looked at his link. He slammed his fist into his palm. And he paced.

  A flicker of movement near the airlock caught her attention. She zoomed in. All she saw was the retreating tip of a white lizard tail. Then nothing. Just Jake pacing back and forth, then in circles at the edge of her focus, then back to horizontal, and vertical. Over and over with specific and repetitious pattern. He didn’t come close to academy specific evasive manoeuvers. He’d been there twenty minutes.

  Unlike him.

  Surely whatever he waited for must emerge from the ship by now. That was what links and comms were for. Make appointments. Keep them.

  Unless he wanted to surprise someone.

  Like Pamela herself.

  Did it have anything to do with the wild flying demonstration put on by the Maril? Pammy opened a second screen and replayed the loops and banks of a small craft weaving in and out of the protruding wings of the station. She engaged a program to project destination, based upon the path. Sixteen variations showed.

  Sixteen! How was that possible? “In all my years in space, I’ve never seen such an unpredictable flight path. Not even Jake’s, and yet his pacing is predictable.” She drummed her fingers on her desktop and opened a schematic of the station in relation to the jump point.

  “Computer, identify location of that craft.” A blinking red light appeared in the Maril wing, right where it should be.

  Pamela glanced back at the scene where Jake had been. Had being the operative word. That particular passenger bay was empty. Completely and totally empty.

  “Computer, identify location of General Jake Devlin.”

  The schematic showed no new blinking lights. But the red light in the Maril shuttle bay continued to glare at her.

  “Talk to me, Martha.” Jake placed his hand gently on the back of her waist and guided her to the lift, excluding the others from the conversation.

  He glared with all the menace he could put into his posture and face at Sissy as she tried to join them on the lift platform. His heart nearly broke at her look of hurt.

  “Sorry,” he said. “This has to be private.”

  He waited until they’d risen an entire level. Hearing Sissy and her girls giving them that much space before they stepped onto the lift didn’t reassure him much. “How old are you, Martha?”

  “Nearly fourteen.”

  Damn. “In my world, and the world I’m trying to build here, you are still a child.”

  “But . . .”

  “According to the laws, most ancient and modern, you aren’t supposed to be able to make these kinds of decisions on your own. So tell me why you need refuge away from Harmony.”

  “They’ll kill me if I go back.”

  “Because of your telepathy?” A cold knot of fear, and outrage, filled his gut. He knew the cruelty of Harmony in their attempts to keep the castes pure. He’d murdered dozens of people with mutated caste marks during the asylum riots. All of them turned ravening mad by neglect, abuse, starvation, and lack of basic hygiene. Every one of them could have become a useful citizen except they’d been born with multiple, smudged, or missing caste marks.

  “Yes.” She looked him in the eye, daring him to contradict her.

  “Harmony has barely crawled out of the hole of natural disasters. From what Gil . . . Mr. Guilliam tells me the caste system is in disarray. The only people holding it in place are Temple and Noble. Everyone below that is pretty much ignoring caste now. There are still some Professionals, but only a few, holding out for not doing business with Worker or Military and definitely not Media.”

  “It is Temple and Noble I fear the most. They are the ones with the authority to order my execution without trial.”

  “Except for the ones who want to keep your talent secret and use you as their spy.”

  “Yes. I . . . I’ve been doing that for Laudae Sissy. And I hate it, even though I know she needs me to do it.”

  The lift continued upward, level numbers lessening and gravity becoming lighter. He had to think and think hard. On the one hand, he needed to offer refuge to those who needed it, but he couldn’t sever the relationship between Sissy and her acolyte—a girl she considered almost a daughter, or younger sister. “Is there anything you do like about being a telepath?”

  “Working with some of the aliens, trying to learn and interpret their languages,” she said brightly. “Ambassador Chtackah has the most amazing musicality in her mental voice. She’s sort of like Sissy in that she sings her thoughts before they become words.”

  “I hadn’t thought she’d be like that. Are you learning to read the language?” Excitement helped dissolve the cold knot in his mid-region. Bubbles of hope coursed through his veins.

  “Not yet. But I think I could learn it with a Maril tutor. I know Marsh is working with some of the Maril children, they are learning to read both languages at the same time.”

  “That would make my life a whole lot easier, Martha. If I can figure out how to . . . to adopt you, I’ll guide your education in languages so that you can help the diplomatic negotiations among all the aliens on station. You’d be a true asset.”

  “Adopt?”

  “Well, you haven’t had official contact with your parents since going to Temple as a small child. For all we know, since the quakes and floods and mudslides and such, you are probably an orphan. That means, if you are willing, any responsible adult can apply to become your new parent, and since I’m the one who determines who is a responsible adult . . .”

  “Oh, thank you, Jake. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She flew across the small space, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek, over and over. “You’ve saved my life. And given me purpose.”

  “Yes, well, we still have to talk to Sissy about this. And about me adopting Marsh and Ashel. They don’t want to go back to Harmony, either.” He stepped off the lift into the hub with Martha still clinging to him.

  “Can I call you ‘Dad’?”

  He had to chuckle at that. More than once he’d wondered how he became the dad to Sissy’s motley crew.

  “I’d be proud to have you do so.” He had to blink back tears of joy.

  Now if he could just add Sissy to his growing family, he’d be content. No, he’d be ecstatically happy.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Jake?” Sissy asked, choking around a constriction in her throat. “Martha?” They faced her with smiles, his arm around the
girl’s shoulders, as she stepped cautiously into his office.

  “Oh, Sissy, we figured out a way so I don’t have to go back to Harmony!” Martha squealed as she detached from Jake and flung herself at Sissy. “He doesn’t mind that I’m a telepath and he’s going to help me do the things I like about being a telepath and not the things I hate about it.”

  “I am happy for you, Martha. But do you really want to leave my service? To leave—” she had to pause and blink back burning tears. “To leave the family we have built together?” The pressure in her chest grew tighter.

  “All the more reason for you to come back to us,” Jake said quietly. “I can’t keep you from Harmony forever, but I will make sure you come visit. Often.”

  “As if you and Marsh and Ashel weren’t enough reason?” Now the tears flowed. And Jake wrapped her in a tight hug. And all six acolytes joined them. And Marsh and Ashel came running out of the schoolroom to join them.

  “I’m going to miss you, Martha,” Mary said.

  Sissy fought to regain control of herself. When she could finally stand straight and look Jake in the eye, she frowned. “That solves one problem . . .”

  “You’ll sign off custody of Martha so I can legally adopt her?” A big smile split his face. “And Marsh and Ashel too?”

  “If they agree. But . . .” How could she truly fix this? “I won’t sign off. I’ll agree to joint custody. I still have authority to oversee their education and prayers and . . . and . . .” Tears threatened. “And I will supervise the removal of their caste marks and yours.”

  Jake slapped a hand to his face, covering the red square outlined by a purple circle. “Don’t know if I’ll recognize myself when I look in the mirror in the morning.”

  “But I will recognize you. That’s what’s important.” She gently removed his hand and kissed the mark. “It defines who you were, not who you are now.”