The immigration ship rumbled into orbit, the engines laboring under the strain. I barely stirred. It was a huge ship, the cargo holds a warren of tiny rooms filled with people hoping for a better life on Nevira. Lowell and I got a single bunk in a back corner of one room. He told everyone who asked that I was his daughter and had been sick a long time. The way he said it, and the way they responded, made it sound like I'd been in a battle and had barely survived. No one questioned him further. They left me mostly alone. I spent a lot of time sleeping.
Leon had come through with new clothes for both of us, along with hair dye and other things necessary to disguising us. Lowell looked odd with dark brown hair. He wore contacts to disguise his silver eyes. He sat on the bunk next to me, waiting, like everyone else. We had three bags stuffed under the bunk. I didn't know what Leon had planned and didn't care. It was almost enough just to be alive.
Lowell doled out the drug as needed. I hated it, but I took it. I was tired and ill most of the time. I closed my eyes, wondering how long until they came to take us to the shuttles. The ship was too big to land.
We didn't wait too long. Lowell hauled out our bags. I crawled off the bunk. We lined up with the others, shuffling forward slowly as the shuttles filled and undocked. We got our turn.
The shuttle was crowded, people packed into the space as tightly as they could. Everyone clutched their bags, all they owned. Children cried. Lowell and I were jammed into seats too small, our bags piled on our laps. The shuttle undocked. My stomach lurched as we moved into zero g. Someone threw up behind me. I swallowed my own nausea at the smell.
The shuttle dropped like a rock into the atmosphere. The ride was rough. Whoever was flying was being paid to drop people as fast as possible, not to pamper them. We bounced a few times as the shuttle rolled to a stop on what I hoped was Nevira.
We got off the shuttle and lined up again. I kept my head down, glad to have a scarf over my hair. The wind howled past the space port. There was no shelter, only a harried looking man at a table set in the lee of a hangar.
"Name?" he asked.
I let Lowell answer.
"Papers?"
The man stamped our papers. We were passed through a gate and loaded onto a huge truck. It had a fabric cover that snapped and cracked in the wind. We squeezed in as tightly as possible. They loaded more people in. The back gate was raised, the covering flap tied across. The truck lurched into motion, engine rumbling.
We rode in silence, hope and fear and desperation on almost every face. The truck was loud enough that no one tried to talk. We bounced on an uneven road. I leaned on Lowell and went to sleep.
I woke a lot later when the truck finally crawled to a stop. I sat, feeling groggy. Lowell patted my knee. We gathered our bags and climbed off with everyone else.
We were in a small town, miles from anywhere. The wind still blew, although not as hard. It was late afternoon. The driver of the truck and an official from the port were checking papers again. They sent people off in different directions. We shuffled in the line until it was our turn.
The official took our papers from Lowell. He held them against the wind, squinting at the fine print. "You've got the old Chandler place," he said, writing something in red ink at the very bottom of the form. "Down that road about ten miles." He pointed off to his right. "You need anything, you've got a fifty credit allowance at the main store here in town. After that, you're on your own."
Lowell nodded and accepted his copy of our papers. The driver collected the other copy and added it to a stack of other papers. We picked up our bags and started walking. The official turned to the next person in line.
The road was plascrete only through town. It petered out quickly into a dirt track. Lowell took two of the bags. I walked behind him, my bag banging against my back at every step.
We crossed a hill, moving out of sight of the town. We were alone. Fields spread on either side of us, fenced with a motley collection of whatever seemed to be available at the time. Rows of green shoots showed against the brown soil. I could see a single house in the distance.
Lowell slowed until I was walking next to him. "Not exactly what I wanted," he said. "But it seems safe enough. No one will bother looking for us out here."
"Wasn't that the point? What are we doing here, Lowell?"
"Running a farm, homesteading I believe the term is." We walked a few more steps. "It was all Leon could arrange."
"So we pretend to be farmers?"
"For a while, if that's what we need to do."
"And after that?"
"You could just disappear here, become Lia Zanderson."
I shook my head. "Tayvis is still out there, somewhere. And no matter how hard I try to hide or run away, it will never be far enough."
"Then let's hope we've got at least a couple of months before trouble finds us here. You need that long to heal."
A groundcar crawled up the hill behind us, swinging towards us. We moved off to the side of the road, walking in grass. The car pulled to a stop next to us. It was a truck, a cab for riding in and a flat box on the back that was currently filled with unlabeled brown sacks.
"You folks want a lift?" the driver offered.
I waited for Lowell to take the lead. Lowell walked up to the open window of the car. "We'd love one. We're supposed to be at the old Chandler place, I think."
"The old Chandler place?" The man shook his head. "Hilly piece of rock, if you ask me, but if that's what they assigned you to, then who are we to argue?" He smiled and stuck out his hand. "Name's Zecharias Cratchett. I've got the bottom land next to your piece."
"Grant Zanderson," Lowell answered, shaking his hand. "This is my daughter, Lia."
The man smiled at me. I shuffled my feet and looked down at the ground.
"You look like you had it tough," Zecharias said, watching me.
"She lost her husband in one of the raids," Lowell said. "We were hoping for a fresh start here."
His lie would excuse all sorts of nonsocial behavior, from both of us. I just wished he'd warned me about it first. It hurt, unexpectedly. I blinked back tears, now was not the time to fall apart. I could do that later, in private. And Tayvis was not dead.
"Well, hop on in. I'll give you a lift out there. My wife, Tessa, bless her soul, would skin me alive if I didn't offer you folks some dinner, too."
"We'd really like to get settled first," Lowell said, watching me.
"They don't provide you much out there," Zecharias warned. "A house and the basics like dishes and such. You need anything, anything at all, you just let me know. Glad to help out a neighbor."
"Thank you," Lowell said. "We appreciate it." He opened the door and waited for me to climb into the cab of the car.
I slid in and moved over to make room for Lowell. The cab was wide enough there was plenty of room for the three of us. Zecharias started it up again after Lowell shut the door. The truck growled as it climbed out of the dip and into another set of hills.
Zecharias talked the whole ride. I let his words wash over me, not really listening. This part of Nevira was rolling hills, with flat patches in between. Everything was covered with grasses and low shrubs, except the fields. They were covered with new shoots in neat rows.
I'd been on Nevira once before, a long time ago. I'd met Jasyn here, in the port city on top of the tall mesa, lost in the distance behind us. It was winter then, deep winter, a howling blizzard stranded us for a couple of days. I closed my eyes, shutting away the memory.
"You sure you folks are going to be all right?" Zecharias asked.
I opened my eyes to find him watching me, between glances at the road.
"We'll be fine," Lowell assured him.
Zecharias launched into a discussion of crops and what he thought would be best for our land. Lowell asked just enough of the right questions to keep him talking, deflecting him away from anything personal.
We passed several farm houses. They were all set back from the road, surrounded by a screen of trees. Dirt roads wound up to each one. Zecharias settled back and drove, telling us about each family as we passed their farm.
We climbed another ridge of low hills. The land on the other side was flat, with a stream meandering across the wide space. Another ridge of higher hills rose on the other side of the valley.
"My place," Zecharias said as we rolled down the hill. "Yours is just up yonder, the first flat section above the valley. Like I said, not much good except for rocks and grass. You'd do well to look into getting grazing rights. Get your own herd of lassas and you'd be set."
"We'll consider that," Lowell said. "Right now, we just need a place to be for a while. You said that wheatley grass was already planted up there?"
"Good hay fodder," Zecharias said. "You may have to do some weeding, pick out the native grasses. Should be ready to cut in about a month. You give me a holler and me and my boys will be up to help. I've got the tractor parts to cut and bale. We'll even help you haul it into town."
"All for free?" Lowell asked.
Zecharias laughed. "You give me a bit for the winter as payment."
"Fair enough," Lowell said, returning the laugh.
The truck sped across the flat area, passing a neat house and barn. His place, I thought as we drove past. I saw several men working by the barn. They had a tractor pulled apart.
"Those are my boys, Zeke, Elias and Teddy. Good boys, they are. You sure you don't want to stop for a bite?"
"I'd rather get settled," Lowell said. "It's been a very long day."
"I'll send Zeke up with something later then. I'm sure they didn't include any food supplies in your basic kit."
"Thank you," Lowell said and left it at that.
The truck crawled up the hill on the other side of the valley. The sun was setting behind us, filling the air with golden light. The road grew more rutted and disused. Grass grew between the two tracks. Zecharias slowed until we were crawling over the bumpy road. We rounded a bend. The hills flattened out into a small area. The road ended in front of a battered house.
"This is it," Zecharias announced. "The old Chandler place. Want help getting anything working?"
"No, you've been more than kind," Lowell answered. He got out of the truck.
I followed. We pulled our three bags out of the back.
"You need anything, anything at all, you just let me know." Zecharias waved as he put his truck into gear and crawled away.
I stood where I was, staring at the sunset streaming across the sky. It felt lonely, desolate out there by the abandoned house. I was starting to feel a bit shaky.
"Dace?" Lowell said, touching my elbow.
He pulled the tiny bottle of pink dust out of the hidden compartment in our luggage. I took it without comment, shaking out the approximate dose into my hand. I licked it off, feeling the drug kicking in. I put the bottle in my pocket.
Lowell picked up our bags and we went to inspect our new home.
It was a tiny, full of dust and not much else. The wide porch across the front creaked as we crossed it. The front door thumped open when Lowell turned the knob. There was a front room, with the kitchen to one side. At the back were two bedrooms and a bathroom. The house contained a few pieces of well-used furniture: three mismatched chairs, a battered table, two creaky beds that smelled musty, a single dresser, and an enormous mirror in an elaborately carved stand. There were no sheets, no towels, no blankets, nothing but the bare mattresses on the beds. The kitchen cupboards held a battered assortment of pots and a few dishes.
Lowell turned the faucet. The pipe sighed out a puff of air. "No water." He flipped a light switch. "No power either."
"There's probably a pump somewhere. Or a generator."
"I saw a shed out back."
We left our bags in the middle of the floor and headed for the shed set a short distance away. It was dim inside, full of scuttling sounds, like an army of mice. I ignored the sound and concentrated on trying to figure out what the equipment inside was supposed to do. It was pretty basic, a solar generator that ran a pump and a battery array. The batteries showed no life. I thumped the gauge a couple of times. I got a bare flicker of response.
"Well?" Lowell asked, his hands shoved in his pockets as he watched me.
I flipped a few switches. The water pump gurgled and stopped.
"We're out of power. It's solar. We'll have to wait until tomorrow for it to charge."
"Isn't there a backup?" Lowell asked.
"Probably, but it's too dark to see. We'll have to rough it tonight."
We walked back out. The wind blew fitfully. The sunset was fading. I could see a few stars already shining.
Lights crawled up the track to our house. We slowed, stopping near the porch. Zecharias' truck pulled to a stop. It wasn't Zecharias who got out, it was a younger, better looking version of him. The man smiled and flipped on a handlight.
"I'm Zeke," he said. "Dad sent me up here to make sure you folks are settled. I see you don't have power yet."
"It's solar, isn't it?" Lowell asked.
"The main is," Zeke answered. "There's a wind generator for backup. Works well in the winter when the sun doesn't shine much." He headed off towards the shed, his handlight picking out a path we hadn't noticed.
We trailed behind him. Zeke banged open the door of the shed and went inside. He checked the batteries and moved to the control panel. He saw the switches flipped on and tossed a glance over his shoulder. "You set these?" he asked Lowell.
"Yes," Lowell answered, looking at me.
"Interesting settings, should work all right though. Give me a second to get the wind generator set up." He flipped a few more switches.
He headed back outside and around the back of the shed. I trailed him, wondering what he was up to. He handed me the handlight. He opened a box attached to a shaft on the back of the shed and started turning the crank inside. I watched as a small turbine unfolded on the top of the shaft. Zeke finished cranking and flipped a handle in the box. The turbine shifted direction to face into the wind. The blades on it began to spin, squeaking.
"Give it some grease soon and it will work fine for a long time," Zeke said to me.
I looked for Lowell. He was headed back to the house. I almost panicked at being alone with Zeke.
"Dad said your name was Lia?" Zeke made it a question.
I nodded. I held out his handlight.
"You keep it for now. You may need it tonight. The turbine should get you some water in a while, but it may be tomorrow before your power is up and running."
"Thank you," I said.
"There's some food in the truck. Mom said you probably needed it."
He walked away before I could find the nerve to talk more. I trailed behind him, the handlight shining in front of me, picking out his feet.
His mom had sent a lot more than food. She'd included bedding and towels and all the things we didn't have. Zeke stayed long enough to help us get everything moved inside. He drove off, waving out the open window.
"Nice neighbors," Lowell said.
"Too nice. I thought we were here to hide."
"True."
We stood in the deepening night, the wind playing with our hair. Overhead the stars blazed in a glory of light.
"Shall we eat while it's hot?" Lowell asked.
"What haven't you told me, Lowell?"
"What do you mean?" he said, suddenly on alert.
"We're alone now. You can talk freely. What is it you don't want me to know?"
He stood very still, in the darkness beside the house. "You heard us talking?"
"I heard Leon tell you that I wasn't ready to hear it yet. I probably wasn't."
"I suppose you should know everything. There isn't anything you can do about it."
"Not out here a thousand miles beyond nowhere."
He shuffled his feet. "Let's at least go inside."
"Quit stalling and tell me."
"Jasyn isn't the head of the Gypsy Council anymore. The status of Shellfinder is also under debate."
"Again?" I shrugged. It didn't matter. "So Jasyn and Clark are fine."
"They are on Tebros, safe and well. Louie is wonderful. I never realized children could be so much fun."
"And my cat is living with Leon." I waited for the rest of his news. It had to be bad or he wouldn't be stalling. "What about the rest? What about the Phoenix?"
Lowell seemed to shrink. "They ran from Linas-Drias, as near as we can figure. They made it to Efraim. Tayvis, Everett, and Paltronis got the bright idea to steal some of Roland's Fleet and start their own mercenary company. They're somewhere on the far side of what used to be the Empire. Tayvis did it so he could look for you."
"He didn't find me," I said, my voice cracking.
"He tried, Dace. Xerian went with him. Without the dreamdust, you wouldn't have lived more than a few weeks at the most. Tayvis didn't know that."
"So he thinks I'm dead?"
"Probably."
I felt cold in the windy night. I closed my eyes, waiting for tears that weren't coming.
"There's more, if you are ready for it." Lowell waited behind me, silent shadow in the night.
I waited. Lowell cleared his throat.
"The Phoenix was caught in a raid on Efraim. They shot all the merchants that tried to run. They blew the seals on the ship. Your ship is scrap. We got a note a few weeks ago demanding ransom for Ginni, Beryn, and Twyla."
I went through the crew roster in my head. Who was missing that had been there?
"Darus?" I asked, feeling suddenly very afraid. I'd just started building a real relationship with my father.
"I'm sorry, Dace. They buried him on Tebros, with full honors."
I felt as if I'd been slapped. I crumpled to the ground, curling around the hurt. Lowell was there to catch me, to hold me, to keep me in one piece. I clung to him and cried, grieving for my ship and my father.