The ship limped into port, barely making it to the station. Black burn marks scorched the side. Half the crew was dead. The name was burned past recognition, but the Patrol logo was still clear. Lowell was summoned from his latest attempt at sleep when they downshifted into Besht's system. He yawned his way through a shuttle ride up to the station while they were towed in. He was ready and waiting as they brought the survivors off the badly damaged ship.
The captain was the last off. She stood at attention, though her uniform was ripped and dried blood matted her hair. One arm dangled uselessly at her side. She saluted Lowell, her face pinched and white with pain. She limped badly, her boots streaked with blood and soot.
"What happened, captain?" Lowell asked. Everyone in the docking bay hushed, waiting to hear her answer.
"They came from nowhere, sir." Her voice was hollow, still in shock. "We had just finished our run past Hyperion. No trouble, nothing unusual, and then, suddenly, there they were. We didn't even detect them until they were on top of us."
Lowell wanted to swear. He had too much self-control, ingrained through years of habit. "Who?" he asked instead, keeping his voice gentle with an effort. The poor captain had suffered enough.
She shook her head. "Their beacons had to be wrong. They were Patrol cruisers, but they weren't in our files. They fired at us without warning."
The medics waited to take her away. Lowell signaled them forward. "We'll get your full report later," he told the captain.
She nodded and let herself be led into the station.
"I want a full dissection of the recording units," he told the techs waiting nearby. "And anything and everything from the ship's systems."
"It was the Federation, wasn't it?" one of the techs asked. "Those were our ships, until they turned sides on us. They shot at us with our own ships."
"It wasn't the Federation," Lowell said sharply. "It was pirates."
"Where did the ships come from?" another tech asked.
There were angry mutterings from the rest of the techs. He had to stop this, and he didn't know how. This was just the scenario he had been trying to prevent. Open war would be fatal, to the Empire and to civilization as he knew it.
"Pirates," he repeated. "Blackthorne was building its own cruisers, before we destroyed their organization."
"And appearing from nowhere? They develop cloaking devices, too?"
"I suspect they bought the technology from the Trythians," Lowell said. Forget classified information and need to know ratings. He had a war to stop.
They didn't believe him. He read it in their faces. He wasn't going to get a chance to stop the rumors. The doors into the rest of the station opened. A full delegation in dress uniform stepped out.
"Admiral on deck!" a burly sergeant shouted. The men around Lowell snapped to attention.
Admiral Flanigan stalked across the docking bay. He stopped a few feet short of Lowell. He stared down his aristocratic nose at the shorter man.
"Commander Lowell, you are formally relieved of command of the Fleet," Flanigan said. "This is no longer a matter for the Enforcers. High Commander Theodys has authorized me to assume full command of all ships on the outer border of the Empire." Flanigan held out a message cube. "Signed, witnessed, and validated, Commander Lowell. You will be on the next ship to Linas-Drias."
Lowell's heart sank. This couldn't be happening. Flanigan would start a war, a real shooting war. The Empire would fall. Millions would die. The rest of the worlds would be shoved back into a dark age. Any semblance of order would crumble. Anarchy would rule. Everything Lowell had fought for would be gone, destroyed by a thoughtless, ruthless, arrogant Admiral who wouldn't even consider the implications of his actions.
What was Theodys thinking? He went cold as he realized what was behind this latest move. It was as close to a declaration of open war as he was going to get. Theodys was part of the conspiracy.
Lowell took the message cube. He made himself smile at Flanigan as he excused himself. He didn't salute. He still had his rank. For now.
He pushed past the men gaping at him in the doorway of the station. The news traveled faster than light. Patrol personnel stared after him down the long corridor into the public half of the station. The whispers followed at his heels, speculation running rampant.
Lowell didn't stop, he walked blindly through the station. The ramifications of this latest move were staggering. What was Theodys after? What could he possibly gain from the disintegration of the Empire? Lowell felt very old, very tired, and very stupid.
He found himself outside a bar. The dark interior and loud music appealed to him. He entered the bar. There was a sudden stillness as the patrons turned to inspect him. They were mostly off duty dock workers. There was not a single uniform in the room, except for his. He surveyed the room once, then stepped up to the bar.
"Drinks all around," he announced to the bartender. "I'm officially off duty." He deliberately pulled his rank pins from his collar and stuffed them into his pocket. The men around him muttered uneasily.
"Pay up front," the bartender informed him in a hard voice.
Lowell pulled the id scanner towards him and accessed his account. Money wouldn't matter soon. When the universe he knew collapsed into anarchy, the financial system would be the first to go. He authorized a hundred credits to the bar and shoved the scanner back at the bartender. The man's eyes went wide at the amount.
"Drinks all around for the next week," he said.
The men around Lowell cheered, their suspicious mood allayed by the free flow of money and intoxicants. One of them slapped Lowell on the shoulder as he was handed his free drink.
"And what for you, sir?" the bartender asked Lowell.
"Whatever they're drinking," he said, waving his hand at the room in general. Not that it would do him much good, most intoxicants merely made him sick. He never experienced any of the pleasant side effects they were rumored to have. But he could pretend. He was good at pretending. The bartender handed him a glass of dark brown liquid. Lowell took a large swallow. It burned.
"Perfect," he said. Pain didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The idiot Flanigan had been officially put in charge. The Empire was doomed. He would party while he could. "It was good while it lasted," he said to himself.
The room was loud with talk and music. He sat at the bar and let the sounds wash through him. He finished the drink. It numbed his tongue and gave him tingles in his fingers. It wasn't quite pleasant. The bartender slid another full glass across the bar to him. Lowell drank. The party around him grew louder, noisier, and bigger as the hours passed. He moved gradually towards the back of the room. He ended up holding court at a round table. A continuous stream of raucous drunk people came by to thank him for the free drinks. He nodded and pretended he was enjoying himself.
He drifted in and out for a while. The party became a blur. And none of it helped. He was still upset and angry and impotent to do anything.
"What are you doing?" The voice was angry, though it was under tight control. He knew that voice. He blinked at the person looming over him in the darkness.
"Didn't you hear?" he said, his voice over-precise to compensate for the numbness in his tongue and lips. "I'm off duty. Officially relieved."
Paltronis leaned over the table. "What is wrong with you? You've never done anything this stupid before. Lowell?" His name was a question.
"It won't matter anymore. Nothing matters." He buried his head in his hands, overcome by sudden hot tears.
"This isn't helping, that's for sure." Paltronis took his arm and pulled until he stood. He swayed and had to lean on her to keep from falling on his face.
"Where are you taking the Commander?" a burly man demanded.
"Free drinks all around," Lowell said, lifting his head with an effort.
"Move," Paltronis told the man. Even through the haze of partying he was astute enough to read the threat in her face and get out of her way.
Lowell stumbled beside her. The iron grip on his arm wouldn't let him do less. Paltronis steered him out of the bar, despite the chorus of mixed cheers and groans behind her. The hallways outside were quieter, dimmed to midnight levels.
"Where do I take you?" she muttered. "You aren't in any shape to be of much help."
"Isn't any help, not anymore," he slurred. "Relieved of duty by that idiot, Flanigan. Should've kicked him when I could. Just like Dace would."
Paltronis ignored his muttering. She dragged him into the docking bay. They got a few curious stares. She glared them out of her way and dragged him up to a hatch. She banged on it. The hatch slid open. She pulled him inside. The hatch slid shut.
He blinked blearily, trying to focus. The ship wasn't Patrol. That much was obvious even to his befuddled mind. "Where are we?" he asked Paltronis.
"Welcome aboard the Windrigger," an unfamiliar man answered. "He's as drunk as a dock worker on a three day weekend after payday," he added to Paltronis.
"The first time I've ever seen him this way," Paltronis told the man. "Trust me, Everett, once we get him sober, he'll listen."
"Do I have a choice?" Everett asked.
"Not if you want to keep your ship," she answered. "Flanigan's been put in charge. The first thing he's going to do is confiscate any and every ship he can. He's been itching to shoot it out with the Federation."
"Stupid," Everett said.
"Very," Paltronis agreed.
"Wasn't them," Lowell slurred. "Federation didn't shoot the Victory. Pirates did it, made it look like Federation, Patrol ships."
"He's making sense," Everett observed.
Lowell felt his sense of balance slip sideways. Paltronis hauled him upright.
"We don't have time for this, Lowell," she snapped.
He blinked owlishly. He was suddenly very tired. His legs went limp. She caught him, barely keeping him from crashing face first into the floor of the ship.
"Put him in a bunk," Everett said as he opened a cabin door. "We're going to have to let him sleep it off."
"Idiot," Paltronis grumbled as she dragged him into the cabin. She rolled him into a bunk. "Why now? Why choose tonight to get drunk? Of any night you could have chosen, why now?"
He saw the need in her eyes and felt ashamed of himself. He couldn't keep his eyes from closing though.
"'Tronis?" he mumbled. "You're too good for me."
"No, I'm not bad enough. Sleep it off fast, Lowell."
* * *
He woke with a pounding, vibrating headache. No, that wasn't quite right. The aching, pounding noise wasn't all in his head. He was on a ship that was moving fast, so fast the engines labored to keep the pace. He blinked. His eyes were blurred, sore and gritty. What had happened to him? His tongue was thick and tasted strangely like engine coolant.
He was lying in a bunk on a ship he didn't recognize. He rolled his head to one side, squinting against the sudden increase in pounding. He was in a small cabin, one crowded with six bunks and evidence that people lived here. Not Patrol, though. The uniforms hanging on the end of one bunk were dark blue.
Paltronis had found him. He remembered that. She'd pulled him out of the bar and dragged him onto this ship. Everett, that was the man who had greeted him. Everett should be familiar to him. Lowell frowned as he tried to place the man.
It was no good. His brain wan't making connections yet. He rolled off the bunk and flopped onto the floor. His coordination was shot. His headache was worse. He lay on the floor, trying to get his body to listen to his mind.
"You're awake," Paltronis said from the doorway. "Good." Her voice was flat, unemotional, and gave no hint what she thought of him. It couldn't be good.
"If this is what a hangover is," Lowell said, "then I don't want one ever again."
He pushed, making a heroic effort to rescue what dignity he still had. He managed to sit, leaning against the bunk. His head pounded so loudly he couldn't hear. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his head to keep it from exploding.
"Try this," Paltronis said, shoving a capsule into his hand. She waited until he blinked up at her before she handed him the glass of water she held.
He swallowed the pill, drinking half of the water. He made a face over the taste.
"Too many cycles through the system without being flushed," Paltronis said. "Everett hasn't had time. And most ports are starting to look suspiciously at any ship not overtly Imperial."
"Remind me who Everett is." Lowell swallowed bile as the pill threatened to come back.
"Captain Everett Greene, Jasyn's cousin."
"Ah." Lowell closed his eyes. It was easier to think when the room wasn't spinning around him. Closing his eyes didn't help. He opened them again. Paltronis watched him, her face a mask. She was angry with him. He was angry with himself. He should never have given up. "There's always a chance until you're dead," he said.
"What?"
"Something one of my teachers at the Academy told me a long time ago. The simulator had lost its engine core, life support was offline, the hull was leaking. We gave up and waited to die, knowing it wasn't real. The instructor," he frowned, "I can't recall his name. Funny, isn't it, that we remember the details, the unimportant little things, but forget the most important ones. The instructor told us afterwards that all of us had failed. Because we'd given up. I'd forgotten that lesson."
Paltronis sighed. "You had a temporary lapse."
"That's a nice way of putting it. No, Paltronis, I gave up when Theodys put Flanigan in charge. It's beginning to come clear. Finally. Now that it's too late to do anything."
She cocked her head to one side, staring down at him as he sat on the floor. "It isn't too late. Isn't that what you just said? Never give up until you're dead? I'm not dead yet, and neither are you."
"And neither is the conspiracy. I thought with Roderick gone it would die. Roderick was a distraction. I was being wishful and stupid hoping that stopping him would scare the others into waiting. It merely pushed them into moving faster."
"Theodys is part of it?"
"And others even higher up the food chain." Lowell grimaced and tried to pull himself up. Paltronis held out her hand. He took it and let her help him gain his feet. "Tayvis warned me of this when I met him on Viya. I was a fool not to listen to what he was actually saying."
"Vance?" Paltronis asked.
"He had a reason for leaving Tayvis behind on Trythia and I don't think it was all about rivalry between them. Vance is in this, over his head."
"And Dace is with Vance. You promised you wouldn't involve her again."
"A promise I didn't break. She went with him on her own. And I haven't heard from her yet, either. So don't growl at me. Not this time."
"The news feed came in just before we jumped. Jasyn is going to murder you, very painfully, when she catches up with you."
"Even if it isn't my fault?" He waited, his eyebrows raised despite the pain in his head.
"Dace is headline news."
"Obviously, when she goes and gets engaged to someone like Vance."
"That's only part of it. The rumor is that she's pregnant."
Lowell blinked, surprised by the statement. He laughed. Paltronis's face tightened in anger. The look in her eyes was dangerous.
"Don't even think of it, Paltronis," he warned her. "What better story could she possibly have used to explain her health? Or lack of it at the time."
"Dace would never think of a story like that. Unless it's true."
"Trust me, Paltronis, it isn't what it appears. Vance was behind the story. For some obscure reason of his own."
"You sound very certain of yourself."
"You had access to her complete medical records. Just like I did."
She studied him, her face uncertain.
"Now we trust her and hope she got the message from Scholar."
"He was on his way to Linas-Drias while you were getting drunk. He said to tell you he understands and he will do what he can and that he's not sure if it's an honor or a punishment to be sent there on your money."
Lowell grinned. "He'll do what he needs to do." He met Paltronis' gaze. She saw the determination in his look.
"You're feeling better now?"
"Much. Whatever that drug was, it worked. Now, what is this great plan you've cooked up with Everett? Have I got the name correct?"
"Captain Everett. His opinion of you wasn't very high to begin with and having to carry you in here didn't help it any."
Lowell winced. "So I abjectly apologize and do my best to make it up to him. I assume he heard about me from Jasyn?"
"And Dace."
"No wonder he thinks poorly of me. Well, I'll have to change his mind, won't I?"
Paltronis wisely let that go without comment. "He's waiting out in the common area."
Lowell stayed where he was, leaning on the bunk. He was on his feet, but that was about it.
"You can sit, once you get there," she said.
"That was just mean, Paltronis. But I deserve it. Just don't do it again or I might have to put you on report."
"Don't try it, Lowell." Her smile had lots of teeth. "I know where you've buried all your dirty secrets."
"Too true," he answered with a sigh. "I could walk if I could keep up where it belongs."
She took his arm without further comment. He tried not to lean on her too obviously as she steered him out of the cabin and into the common area of the ship.
There were at least a dozen people around the common area, in the galley, in the cockpit, sitting at the table, lounging against the wall. Some were cleaning weapons. They eyed him deliberately, waiting for him to comment on the illegal arms. He ignored them. He'd been ignoring Dace's habit of owning just such weapons for several years. He was actually happy to see them. It was one less item he'd have to figure out how to steal.
He stopped next to the table, a long oval that would seat eight. Paltronis let go of his arm and he dropped into a chair. The man seated at the table stared coldly at him. Lowell studied him right back.
The man was thin, his hair a pale blond. He had a tiny mustache on his upper lip. His eyes were clear blue and very hard. This man was no fool. Everett Greene, one of Jasyn's cousins. That meant connections to the Gypsies who controlled more than three quarters of the trade in the Empire.The Gypsies didn't do it openly, but Lowell knew. The list of businesses and shipping companies in Gypsy hands was extensive, infiltrating almost every planet in the Empire and beyond.
"I'm curious, Captain Everett," Lowell said, breaking the silence in the room, "do you move freely across the border with the Federation? Does it affect trade at all?"
Everett looked startled. He shot a quick glance at Paltronis. She shrugged.
"I'll be honest," Everett answered, "trade in the Federation is much better than it ever was in the Empire."
"Then that would explain the shortages of goods and the lack of ships to haul them," Lowell said. "I knew it was more than just losing the ag worlds."
Everett ran a finger back and forth across his mustache. The gesture was familiar. Lowell had met this man before. He was the one who had given Dace her cat. He'd been involved in the mess on Xqtl when Dace had almost single-handedly wiped out two crime syndicates. Lowell had been rather busy and hadn't paid attention as he should. It was an excuse, a poor one that might cost him more than he wanted to consider.
They were out of time for games. Lowell found he was sick of playing them. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. "Whatever your plan is, you have my support, what's left to give. I won't mislead you, Captain. I've been relieved of command and I expect someone will find a way to get me out of the Patrol soon. If I'm really a nuisance, they'll find a way to charge me with treason again."
Everett's solemn face split in a grin. "That's more like the Lowell Dace told me about. I was wondering when Paltronis brought you aboard."
Lowell just smiled at the man.
"And you've already been listed for dereliction of duty and refusal to follow orders," Paltronis said. She took a chair at the table. "And public drunkenness, not to mention conduct unbecoming your rank."
Lowell grinned proudly. "All that in one night. I never thought I could actually do it. Flanigan must really be feeling full of himself. Which is a bigger problem than I anticipated." He turned back to Everett, his grin fading. "Flanigan will start confiscating ships. He wants to shoot it out with the Federation."
"He's already started," Everett answered. "The second reason we're running so hard. The first was that Paltronis was only a step ahead of the Enforcers holding your arrest warrant."
Lowell cursed. "They aren't waiting to tear the Empire apart the rest of the way."
"It isn't the Federation that's shooting," Everett said. "They're angry and upset at the Empire for unprovoked attacks on their worlds. They've lost five ships so far."
"It isn't either of them," Lowell said. "It's Blackthorne."
"Blackthorne Conglomerate was wiped out," Everett protested. "Dace shot them."
"Not all of them," Lowell answered. "We never found their shipyards. They were building ships from stolen Patrol blueprints. And buying Patrol weapons off the black market."
"So someone is trying to convince the Patrol and the Federation to start shooting each other," Everett said.
"Exactly. It's what I've been trying to prevent."
"It's already starting," Everett said.
"Too late to stop," Lowell agreed. "There are too many people involved at the highest levels."
"Which explains Dace." Everett flicked a glance at Paltronis.
"There's nothing more I can do for her that I'm not already doing." Lowell noted Paltronis nodding, confirming his statement to Everett. Interesting, Everett trusted Paltronis. Lowell was the one under suspicion. He could live with that.
"So we let her deal with the corruption inside the Empire," Everett said. "We work on the rest of the problem. Which, as I see it, is stopping innocent people from getting caught in the crossfire."
"And keeping our ships out of it," one of his crew said.
"As much as possible," Lowell agreed. "What plan do you have?"
"The Gypsy Council issued talthui last month, guidelines for those of us who are Gypsy," Everett explained. "Each clan interprets talthui its own way. We've chosen to interpret them to mean we act to do what we can to keep things stable. All of us who depend on trade for our living will suffer if the Empire collapses."
"How do you propose to act?" Lowell asked.
"We ignore the border. We keep moving goods in and out of the Empire. We need a way past the Patrol pickets, though."
"Which is where I come in," Lowell said.
"Exactly."
"Border codes, passwords, bribes—what do you want from me?"
"All of the above?" Everett smiled.
"While I'm running from charges myself?"
"You still have an organization, contacts in the Patrol and in the Council of Worlds."
Lowell studied Everett for a very long time. The air in the ship was rife with tension, the smell of people on the edge of violence.
Lowell finally nodded. "I'll do everything I can," he promised.
Some of the tension in the ship dissolved as Everett nodded back.
"What we really need is to stop the crime syndicates," Lowell said.
"That's the other half of our plan," Paltronis said. "Get ships combing the entire region looking for the shipyard and their other bases. We find them, we go in and take them out."
"And steal their ships while you're at it?" Lowell asked. Paltronis was more than capable of executing just such a strike. "I assume my job is to procure explosives, weapons, and everything else you need for such an attack."
"We've got that covered," Everett informed him. "The Federation is behind us on this. Not openly, of course."
"Willet Smythe," Lowell said with a smile. "I should have known he'd be involved in this somewhere. How is he?"
"Scared you'll shoot him on sight," Everett answered.
"You can assure him that thought never crossed my mind." Lowell had never met him face to face until long after he was Federation. "Where are we going now? If you don't mind me asking."
"Wetaro. To meet with other clan representatives, along with the unofficial Federation representation, and other interested parties."
"Or in other words, you aren't sure who'll be there," Lowell said.
Everett merely smiled, brushing his mustache with one finger.
"Fair enough," Lowell said. He turned to Paltronis. "I never thought my job would include setting up a smuggling ring. I used to think my job was to stop them."
"You'll do fine, sir," Paltronis assured him.
"Then maybe we should do what planning we can," Lowell said.
Everett nodded his agreement.