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 in. 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.
"Viya Station," the man said, "please respond. Is anyone there?"
"Who are they?" Lowell asked.
"They've been calling for the last twenty minutes," Cartrane said. "We can't get a fix on their ship id. It's big, at least a cruiser, and armed. We got that much before the antenna died again."
"They aren't Patrol," Hector volunteered.
"They aren't syndicate," Lowell said, frowning at the man on the screen. He knew the man, he'd met him. But where?
"Viya Station," the man said again. "We can offer assistance. Please respond."
"Connect it," Lowell told the scan tech. He pretended not to notice when she looked to Cartrane for confirmation.
"Are you sure about this?" Cartrane demanded of Lowell.
"I know that man," Lowell said. "They're offering help."
"Can we trust them?"
"Can you afford not to?"
"Connect it," Cartrane told the tech. "You do the talking," he told Lowell. "We're watching everything you say."
The screen fuzzed momentarily.
"Viya Station? Are you there?" the man asked again.
"We're here," Lowell said. "Who are you?"
The man grinned into his screen. "I'll be toasted and dipped in mustard. If it isn't Grant Lowell himself." He paused, his grin growing wider. "You don't remember me? I was sure Tayvis would tell you I was on my way to talk to you. Isn't that why you're still at Viya?"
Lowell stared at the man's face. Who was he? His mind refused to make the right connections that would tell him who this man was and why he was coming here. And how was Tayvis connected to this?
"We only met briefly," the man continued. "At least ten years ago. I'm not surprised you don't remember. The name is Willet Smythe. I represent the Federation."
The room erupted in whispers. Lowell couldn't tell if they were shocked, scared, hopeful or all three. Willet Smythe, aka Will Scarlet, watched and waited on the com screen.
"The Federation?" Lowell asked, buying time more than anything. Willet Smythe was of the Hrissia'noru, last Lowell knew. But he hadn't heard from them for quite some time himself, not since they'd ordered him to use Dace to find the lost ones suspected to be on Tivor.
"We are here to offer you assistance," Will said. "It appears you need it. We can have men on your station within the hour. What supplies do you need?"
"Why are you helping us?" Cartrane shoved his way to the screen. "You just shot us up. You think we'll trust you now? You had this all planned."
Will lifted one eyebrow. "The Federation is not in the business of destroying civilian stations. We were already on our way here. Finding your station in this condition was a bit of a shock. We're surprised anyone managed to survive."
There was silence in the room while they thought over his speech. Lowell glanced at Cartrane.
"You can trust him," Lowell said. "He wouldn't be involved in something like the attack."
Cartrane glared at Lowell. He finally relented. "If this is a trick, you're going to pay for it. With them."
"No tricks, Stationmaster," Will assured them. "What supplies do you require?"
"Your assistance will be appreciated," Lowell spoke for the others.
"We've got power restored to level sixteen on deck eight," one of the techs volunteered. "We're waiting for the atmosphere generator to bring the air back up to normal. The reserves are almost gone, though."
"We could use more conduit wiring," another put in.
"We'll have shuttles there within the hour," Will said. "And Lowell," he waited until Lowell looked back at the screen, "you aren't going to dodge meeting me this time."
The com screen went blank. The techs hurried away, intent on their repairs.
"You aren't going to tell me how you know him, are you," Cartrane said to Lowell.
"It's complicated. And I'm not quite sure how it all fits myself."
"Why is the Federation coming here?"
"My guess is because the Empire pulled the Patrol out. Most of the Sector has already joined the Federation. I suspect Will is here to offer you membership."
Cartrane said nothing. He stared unseeing at the blank monitor, thinking hard. "It will have to be by vote," he said finally. "I won't speak for the others unless they agree."
Three hours later, Lowell's guesses were confirmed. Willet Smythe was there to offer them more than help rebuilding the station. He was there to offer them citizenship in the Federation and protection from more attacks.
The vote was unanimous. Viya Station was no longer loyal to the Emperor who had abandoned them. The Patrol still on station were more than happy to switch allegiance. All except Lowell. He politely declined.
"You'll regret this someday," Will told Lowell later. They were in a small conference room on the one deck that still held air. The others had left, busy rebuilding their lives.
"Probably," Lowell answered. He studied the younger man with the honest face and mischievous grin. "Tayvis said he would have died on Trythia if you hadn't found him."
"He would have survived, one way or another," Will said as he gathered his papers together. "He's almost as good as Dace at surviving. He was a little upset over you leaving him behind on Trythia, though."
"I'd been informed he was dead." The words fell heavy in the quiet room. "I had no reason to doubt. Not then."
"You do now?" Will asked.
"Something's rotten, and it isn't at the bottom of the pile. If my suspicions are correct it's hard to go much higher."
"If you ever decide the Empire has used you long enough, the Federation will be happy to welcome you."
"Because I can tell you all the Emperor's dirty secrets?"
"Only if you want to share," Will said as he stood. "We would value your experience. Roland would like to meet you. Just to talk. I think you'd like him."
Lowell said nothing to that comment.
"Think it over," Will said.
"I still work for the Patrol," Lowell said.
"So do a lot of other people on this station."
Lowell shook his head. "I accepted their resignations yesterday. And Hector's this morning."
"Tayvis was right," Will said after a long pause. "You are an odd one."
"I'll remember you said that."
Will laughed as he walked out of the room.
Lowell stared at the blank wall across from him. He was ready to resign, why not do it now? Because Dace was still out there and he couldn't walk out on his people. Not yet. Not without warning.
He sighed and wished his life were as easy as that of Tomris, the stinky little brother. It would be nice to have a Madilene and her band of trusty handmaidens ride to his rescue.