Paltronis shuffled her feet as she waited. She'd been waiting too much lately. Waiting for papers, waiting for orders, waiting, waiting. She was tired of waiting.
She was currently waiting for the attention of the aide working behind the desk. Fedrithus wasn't much of a post. The Patrol base consisted of three rundown office buildings and two warehouses. There was only one landing bay for ships. It looked like it wasn't used very often. Fedrithus was a backwater world in the middle of nowhere in the Empire. The Patrol maintained a base because at one time, about a thousand years ago, Fedrithus was a bustling exploration port on the edge of known space. The frontier of the Empire had long since passed it by and left it to slowly fade into a glorified fuel stop. The planet was mostly barren, a wasteland of sand and salty oceans. Life had never managed to get much of a foothold beyond algae. The air was breathable, though it tasted of dust. The Patrol base existed because a Patrol base had been on Fedrithus since it was settled.
"You are a security consultant?" the aide asked her when he finished reading the report. He looked up with cool gray eyes. "I can't imagine why we would need a security consultant here. But your papers are in order. If you'll follow me, sergeant." He stood, his chair scraping across the bare plascrete floor of the reception area.
Paltronis picked up her duffel then followed him. The loss of rank didn't bother her. The trumped up charges that resulted in her demotion and post here did. A lot. She and Lowell both knew it was a move to get Paltronis away from him. They were isolating him, one tiny bit at a time, cutting away anyone and everyone who might possibly support him. And he didn't know who they were.
It was her snooping that landed her here. She and Lowell had many private discussions, using whatever technique they could to keep from being overheard. The rumor at Patrol headquarters was that they were having an affair. She didn't mind the smirch on her reputation. She was flattered by it. It was the rumor that had been her downfall, though.
When Dace unmasked Vance Shiropi's mother as a traitor, Lowell had hoped that would deal the rebels a heavy blow. It hadn't even slowed their plans. Whoever was behind the rebellion against the Emperor, it wasn't Lady Candyce and her high society friends.
Paltronis had been caught snooping through files she shouldn't have had access to. She'd been court martialed, demoted, and sent to the most out of the way place the Patrol High Command could find. Lowell's hands had been tied. If he'd admitted she was snooping on his orders, he would have been shot as a traitor himself. The rumor that they were lovers made it impossible for him to defend her. He was head of the Patrol, in name only. All real power bestowed by the Emperor's appointment had been siphoned away by the rest of the High Command. The corruption of the rebellion had spread even there, at the highest levels of government.
The aide stopped by a warped door near the back corner of the third floor of the most decrepit building. He jiggled a key in the lock until the knob grudgingly turned. He pushed the door open. A wave of hot, stale air sighed out of the room beyond.
"We aren't much on luxury here," he said, waving her through the door. "But you do get a private room. Unless you'd rather bunk with the grunts downstairs."
"This is fine." She sat her duffel on the bare mattress of the battered bed. A cloud of dust motes rose lazily into the light filtering in from a very dirty window.
"You can requisition basic supplies at the canteen. Lunch is in about an hour. The Commander would like to see you there." He turned away.
"Thank you," she said, but he was already gone down the hall.
She pushed the door shut. It took effort to get the warped door far enough into the frame to engage the lock. She turned to survey her new home.
The small room held a bed, a battered chair that tilted to one side, and a single set of metal shelves for her belongings. The one window looked out over the warehouses, away from the ships. Beyond was nothing but a vast sea of golden sand and the blank blue sky.
There were two other doors to her room. The nearest one, once she'd yanked it open, revealed a shallow closet, bare of everything but dust. The second door opened into a bathroom. Rust stained the toilet. The sink was chipped. The tub, an old fashioned one without the shower attachment that was usually standard, was short and shallow and rimed with soap scum. Another door led out of the bathroom. She tried to open it. It was locked from the other side. She listened but heard nothing through that door.
She went back into her room to unpack. The building was quiet, but not silent. It spoke with its own voice. The floor creaked under her feet as she put her few belongings neatly on the shelves. The window sighed and rattled as a fitful breeze gusted past. Paltronis finished her unpacking and stood near the window, listening.
She heard pipes gurgling once. The building settled as the heat of the day built outside the window. The boards siding the building popped. The cooling system kicked on with a burst of dusty air from a vent high overhead. Slightly cooler air wafted past her, towards the floor. It smelled stale.
She pried at the window, trying to open it. The latch was crusted with dust and sediment. It hadn't been opened in years. She found her small pocketknife and used that to pick away the crud around the latch. She heaved at the window until it finally opened a few inches.
The air outside, though fresher smelling, was hot and dry. She pushed the window shut. It squealed loudly as it slid down again. It might offer her a way out, if she needed it. But it would be noisy and anything but quick. And there wasn't anywhere to run, not here on Fedrithus. Miles of barren desert, a whole barren world, waited beyond. The city wasn't big enough to hide her. She leaned on the sill and sighed.
Fedrithus was a dead end, meant to end her career with the Patrol. If she didn't go crazy with boredom and the endless heat, it would be a miracle. She could look forward to years here. Unless she resigned.
She'd use her time the best she could. She'd sift through records and files when she could. She'd play her part. And she'd plan a way out.
She left her dusty, hot room to find the canteen. Sheets would be nice. And a towel. And all the little niceties of civilization she'd taken for granted for so many years.