Phoenix in Flames

By Jaleta Clegg

The Phoenix is deep in syndicate territory and they're out for blood. Lowell's power base is broken and Dace is left unprotected. Jasyn will have to marshal all her resources to rescue Dace from the wrath of her enemies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaleta Clegg
• Release date: Jun 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310830839

Jaleta Clegg

I love telling stories ranging from epic space opera to silly horror to anything in between. I've had numerous stories published in anthologies and magazines. Find all the details of my space opera series at http://www.altairanempire.comFor the latest updates on my stories, check out my webpage at http://www.jaletac.comMy current day job involves teaching kids to play the piano. I also love piecing quilts together, crocheting tiny animals, and watching lots of bad 80s movies.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The darkness tasted of stone and the wet that dripped in the subterranean maze, sometimes close enough he could touch it, sometimes so distant it made his throat ache. His universe shrank, encompassing only the wet coldness of stone forever under his fingers. Once he had known light and warmth, hidden in the haze that filled his mind. Now was all that existed, all that ever had existed, all that ever would exist. Now was the cold dark and unending stone.

And her. He shivered at the forbidden thought. She came sometimes, into the darkness. She brought light with her, wrapped around her. She brought quiet words and soft touches. She supplied clear water and the almost forgotten taste of food. She called herself an angel. Her absence was his punishment, clear indication that he was not worthy of her presence.

Living was only a habit, a fading one. He once had a reason, another he was responsible for. He didn't remember who he was supposed to protect or what had gone wrong, only that he had failed.

He huddled against wet stone and scurried through the empty echoing spaces between. He was an animal, locked underground forever. The angel brought aching hope and memories, but doomed him to silent darkness when she withdrew. She came, shining in her white robes, to stroke his face with her hands.

Her touch brought pleasure, agonizing in its intensity. He shouldn't want it, he fought the need. And he lost every time. He needed her light even though he knew at some level her touch would kill him. Eventually.

Her touch unlocked his memories for a brief moment of sanity before her touch took it away again and left him sobbing over his betrayal. He had tried to resist her. He had broken every vow he'd ever made after she touched him. He had tried to hide, but she had found him, her voice scolding and harsh even as her hands gently touched his face. She would always find him no matter where he tried to hide. Not in the maze of rock, and not in his mind.

He wrapped his arms around himself, alone in the darkness, shivering with cold and need. She had stolen everything and left him only the hope that she would come back before he gave in to the shrieking madness creeping through the silent stone. He closed his eyes, seeking artificial darkness he could control. It was the only shred of self he had left. He had no name, no thoughts to call his own, no words, nothing but what she gave him. He kept nothing from her gentle questions and her gentler touch.

Except for a single name that echoed through his dreams.

Dace.

Chapter 2

It was a nice desk. No, more than just a nice desk. An extremely nice desk. The polished wood of the surface was smooth and glossy, the color of warm honey. The edges were scrolled, carved into an elegant profile. The drawers were real wood and slid silently on heavy casters. The desk was everything an important person would want.

It was also completely empty, void of anything of any significance, a hollow symbol. Much like Lowell's current position.

Head of the Patrol High Command, one of the most powerful people in the Empire. What a cosmic joke. He'd held much more power as the unrecognized head of the undercover division, the one that no one really talked about because no one was quite sure if it existed or was only rumor. The Emperor had appointed him as the official head of the entire Patrol in an effort to clean out the corruption that ran rampant through its ranks. It hadn't worked.

Theodys had been heavily involved in the conspiracy to bring down the current government, until he'd been killed. Lowell had no idea who else was involved. All the trails he'd found were cold, dead ends that led him in circles.

He spread his hands over the pristine surface of the desk. Everything, all the connections and threads he'd spent years building, had unraveled over the last months. They had manipulated and maneuvered him into a corner. He saw no way out.

He had started with strong backing. He had Paltronis, and he trusted her with his life and his reputation. But they had found a way to remove her, to shuffle her off into a position where she had no contacts, nothing useful to offer him. He wasn't even sure where she was.

Commander Wexford had also come, offering his support, but he was never part of society on Linas-Drias. Wexford had taken command of the Fleet, relieving Admiral Flanigan of duty and arresting him for plotting treason. Wexford was as unreachable as Paltronis, stationed light years away and busy with his own concerns.

Lowell had moved quickly, forcing others of the High Command into retirement, threatening to charge them with treason if they didn't go, but they were far from gone. They pulled strings within the Council of Worlds, influencing the nominations to the Patrol High Command, picking their own replacements. Lowell's hands were tied.

He was the leader. His word should have been law within the ranks of the Patrol. He was mostly ignored. They saluted him, and gave him patronizing smiles as they ignored his orders.

He tapped his fingers on the wooden surface, a dull sound, muted in the plush office.

With no one of his own on the High Command staff, reports were routinely misplaced and redirected. Information never reached him, until it was much too late to act on it. His orders were misfiled or lost or reworded. No one ever would admit to the tampering. As far as he could tell, every one of his staff were involved.

Lowell had been reduced to a figurehead with no more power than the stone statue of the first High Commander in the lobby of the building. He'd been outplayed and outmaneuvered at every turn. He had lost.

He wanted to retire. He wanted to become an anonymous citizen of the Empire. He couldn't do that while war threatened. The situation had stabilized in the last month, but it was much too shaky for his liking. The Empire was like a chair with three legs missing. Balancing on the remaining leg was hard enough without people trying to kick it out from under you.

He'd tried, he really had. He'd given his life to keeping the Empire intact and stable. And he'd watched it crumble. It hadn't collapsed completely, but that was only a matter of time now. He'd seen the way the dice fell. The Federation helped stabilize what was left of the Empire. The situation would have settled, peace would have been possible, except there was still someone out there working to drag everything down.

He smiled bitterly. They didn't know how close they were to succeeding.

He had never felt quite so isolated.

He tried to keep things together. He did whatever he could to keep the fabric of society from unraveling completely. The knots were getting tricky to hold onto, there were so many of them.

And his people kept disappearing.

He'd discovered a message from Scholar, months old, buried in a database. He had no idea where Scholar was, or even if he was still alive. Lowell hadn't been able to trace him.

His other agents were scattered through the Empire, pushed into dead end positions that gave them no access to anything useful. Anyone tainted by association with him had been moved and demoted on the flimsiest excuse. It was enough to make him believe in paranoia.

They'd pulled his teeth, figuratively speaking. Without information, without loyal people in his network, he was nothing more than an old man.

He sighed, his gaze moving from the blank desk to the equally blank window. He was high in the Patrol Command Tower, more than a mile from the surface of the planet. The window showed gray fog. Rain rattled the translucent surface of the window every few moments. The tower was locked in a wet cycle for three more days.

He could have chosen to project any number of scenes through his window. He chose reality. He always had. He had never shied away from hard truths. Maybe he should have.

He tapped his fingers across the desk, wanting to be doing something. He had no reports, no paperwork, nothing to occupy his time. His staff made certain of that.

He'd lost track of the Phoenix and her crew. Those requests sometimes came through. His staff saw no danger in keeping tabs on one battered merchant ship, but it was very low on their priority list. The last position he had was three weeks old. It didn't help that the Phoenix changed id beacons almost every stop.

He envied Dace her freedom. She'd escaped the web of intrigue; with a few scars, true, but no lasting damage. At least he wanted to believe what the psych techs told him. She would adjust. She would survive. He knew firsthand how well she survived.

And he wished she were here. It was selfish of him to wish that, after everything she'd done. But if she were here—

Life would definitely be interesting, he thought with a heavy sigh.

His com link beeped, a soft chiming. He almost preferred the shrill cacophony of alarms. He didn't want to answer. What else was he going to do? Sit here and slowly die?

Yes? he said to the desk. There weren't even any buttons for him to push. The whole system was coded to his voice commands.

You have the reception appointment at three, one of his nameless secretaries informed him.

Thank you, he answered.

The com light blinked off. He was alone in his silence again. The clock in his desk showed he had two hours to wait. Two hours to waste doing nothing because he had nothing to do.

He slid his hands over the desk, feeling the unblemished smoothness of it.

He had tried everything. He was finished. He was too old.

The faintest stirring of emotions mixed like bile in his belly, disgust at himself and defiance. He wasn't going to go meekly into retirement. He would find some way to fight back.

But he was so tired. He didn't have the heart to rebuild his network from scratch, even if he could. He would rebel, in small ways.

He tapped his desk, calling up his comp screen. He opened the files they let him access. They contained useful information. He just had to find it. And then he would work on breaking the codes on the rest of the files.

They'd given him the desk. He might as well find some use for it.

Chapter 3

We're going shopping, Jasyn announced. Who's coming? She had her baby, Louie, parked on one hip. He grinned and waved his hands.

Can't pass that up, Twyla answered.

Count me in, Ginni said. Anything to get out of cargo duty.

What about you, Dace? Jasyn asked.

I looked up from the reader in my lap. We'd landed only an hour before. I was waiting for the engine to finish cooling. I shook my head.

You can't sit here and mope for the rest of your life, Jasyn said.

I am not moping, I said. I just don't want to go.

We aren't shopping for clothes. We're going to find some spec items. Our current supply is running low.

As if we need it, I answered. We could fly empty for the rest of our lives and still have money to burn. Thanks to Leon and Lady Rina, we own half the businesses in the galaxy. It was an exaggeration, but Lady Rina's will and Leon's scheming had resulted in millions of credits in assets. We didn't have to haul cargo at all. We didn't need to search for some trade item that would strike it rich for us. We were already rich.

Excuses, excuses, Jasyn said. You used to do it because it was fun. Has that changed, too?

I don't want to, Jasyn. Go shopping and have fun. I need to recalibrate the engine coils.

You did that last week, Clark said.

I want to do it again, I insisted.

Suit yourself. Jasyn gathered her bag of necessary baby items then headed out the hatch. Ginni and Twyla went with her.

She was upset, but I didn't know how to fix it. I hadn't left the ship, except to walk around to the cargo doors, in over a month. Not since we'd lifted from Shangrila. I didn't want to leave. I got a creeping, sick feeling in my middle when I did. I knew it was irrational. I didn't know how to explain to the others.

Dace, you have to quit moping sometime, Clark said. He was trying to be nice, he was trying to help, which was why I didn't hit him.

I am not moping, I said instead.

We all know how you feel about Tayvis, he continued. Just say the word and we'll drop everything to track him down.

What about keeping a low profile? We're pretending to be just another merchant trying to scrape out a living. We're supposed to be in hiding. If we come out as the Phoenix Rising, looking for Tayvis, the entire galaxy will know.

That's an excuse. You're hiding behind them.

You said you'd give me time, Clark.

And we have. It's past time for you to start living again.

I snapped the reader shut and jammed it into a pocket behind the padded bench where I sat. It's my life, my choice. I'm perfectly happy staying on board.

And spending hours avoiding Darus? He's almost as bad as you are. I don't know how you're planning on recalibrating the coils from the cockpit.

It isn't your business.

It is my business. You're part of our family, Dace. And whether you want to admit it or not, so is your father.

Darus, my father, had joined the crew while I was stranded on Trythia. It had been a shock to find him listed as the engineer of my ship. Our relationship was strained. I wasn't sure how to act around him. He wanted more from me than I knew how to give.

You can't live out the rest of your life on this ship. For one thing, it's pretty small.

I sighed. Give me time, Clark.

You promise you aren't just going to hide here for the next year?

The next year? Maybe. But not longer than that. I promise.

I can live with that. I'll have to convince Jasyn, though. He leaned against the table, his hands in his pockets. I wasn't joking about helping you find Tayvis.

It's over, I said sharply. The pain of losing Tayvis was still too raw. He's gone. He walked out on me. Life isn't like the vids. Sometimes it just doesn't work the way you want it to.

Dace—

Just drop it.

He looked down at the floor, scuffing his foot over the fibermat.

Who's doing cargo? Beryn asked, walking into the lounge and our strained silence. He looked back and forth between the two of us. Fighting again?

Clark shook his head in warning. I ignored Beryn. His cheerfulness grated on my nerves.

The buyer should be here soon, Clark said to Beryn. Why don't you wait out by the cargo bay doors for them?

Sounds great, Beryn said. I love standing around.

You do it so well, Clark teased. He waited until Beryn was out the hatch before he turned on me again. Dace, will you at least talk to Darus? Work something out with him. Please. You both deserve better than you're giving.

I rubbed my face with my hands. Fine. I'll talk to him.

Good. I'll head over to the port offices and take care of the paperwork. He paused at the hatch. You've got at least an hour. I'll see that Beryn leaves you alone.

I watched him disappear into the afternoon light. It was unfair. Jasyn and I were the owners of the ship. I was the captain, so it technically should have been my responsibility to sign the papers and pay the fees. I felt queasy just thinking about walking out of the ship.

I used to enjoy new planets. But after Trythia, and Tivor, and the charade of my engagement to Vance Shiropi, I never wanted to leave again. A little voice in the back of my head warned me that if I voluntarily walked off the ship, bad things would happen. And I would never reach home again.

I pulled my feet up onto the bench. Jasyn had orchestrated remodeling while I was away. The lounge had been enlarged, sacrificing one of the original four cabins in the process. My cabin was the only one untouched. The other two had been connected and refitted as a nursery for Louie. The medunit we had on board was tucked in behind the nursery. Half of our original cargo holds were now more cabin space, located up a short set of stairs where the internal cargo bay used to be. Many of the bins were still there, lining the short hallway. They were used for storage, not cargo. Jasyn and Clark had the cabin closest to Louie's nursery. The other two were bachelor quarters for the rest of the crew. Ginni and Twyla shared one, while Darus and Beryn shared the other.

Jasyn had rebuilt the galley area, making it bigger. We didn't eat the frozen dinners most spacers survived on. We ate fresh, when we could get the supplies. They kept me out of the kitchen, though. Darus and I had that much in common, we both burned water when we tried to cook.

A metallic clatter rattled up the stairs to the engine room. The inevitable string of swear words echoed up the confined space. Darus was working on the engine again.

I went down the stairs and slid open the door into the engine compartment. It was a narrow space, less than four feet wide for most of it. The engine was to my right, the wall to the left was lined with bins for parts and tools. Darus currently stood in the middle of the walkway, halfway to the back, swearing a blue streak at the fitting in front of him. He had a big wrench in one hand. His other hand was covered with grease and oozing blood. He glanced towards me. The swearing stopped abruptly.

What? he demanded when I didn't move.

Clark insisted I come talk to you.

He snorted. What did he threaten you with? It had to be pretty awful to get you down here.

I looked away, feeling the all too familiar hurt burning in my chest. The rest of the crew thought it was my fault that we were at odds. It was mutual. I tried, and had my efforts thrown back in my face.

Clark was right, I muttered. We are too much alike.

You say something, or am I just hearing the engine coolant gurgling?

Why do you hate me? I asked him bluntly.

He didn't answer. He put down his wrench and rubbed his bloody knuckles.

I sighed and wrapped my arms around myself. We'd had a rough start to our relationship, considering he didn't even know I existed until I rescued him from Vallius. I thought he was dead. We spent a rocky time learning to know each other, but I was under the impression we were building something positive between us. Until I'd come back aboard the ship at Shangrila. The antagonism between us had grown with each day since then. And I wasn't sure why.

I don't hate you, he said. I don't know how to act around you anymore. I don't know who you are.

I'm the same person I was before.

He shook his head in denial. You've changed. He picked up the wrench again. He opened a storage bin behind him and dumped the wrench inside.

It was the wrong bin. I walked past him and opened the bin.

And I can't do anything right, he said. You come down here and redo everything I do. So why should I try?

I picked the wrench out of the bin then opened the drawer to the left. I put the wrench in the slot where it belonged.

You rearrange the bins and give me grief if I don't put everything back exactly where you put it, he grumbled.

That's because if there's an emergency, I want to know exactly where every tool and part is.

What kind of emergency? Are you planning on attacking pirates by yourself again?

Any emergency. I don't want to be fumbling around searching for tools. That's why they belong exactly where I put them. You just toss them in wherever.

What difference should it make? They're still down here.

I slammed the drawer shut. It makes a lot of difference. What if the lights are out?

Then you shouldn't be down here trying the fix the engine.

I turned away from him, ready to leave him to his grumbling. I'd promised Clark I'd at least try and I had.

Maybe it's different on Patrol ships, I said. He'd been Patrol for most of his life. He'd been a gunnery officer for most of it, what he hadn't spent on Vallius.

I wouldn't know. I'm not a real engineer, just a Patrol engineer. His voice was pure acid.

Is that what this is really about? I asked, turning to face him. I never said you weren't a real engineer.

But I'm not good enough for your ship, he answered. Why else do you keep coming down here and redoing everything I've ever done?

Because it gave me an excuse to stay on the ship. Because I'd missed having grease under my nails. I didn't say any of it out loud. I stared at the storage bin and bit my lip.

Why don't you just say it to my face? he growled. Tell me I'm lousy at fixing the engine, instead of sneaking around when I'm not looking to do it all over.

That isn't what I'm doing, I snapped.

Then what are you doing? He folded his arms and waited. He was going to demand an answer. I might as well give him one he'd accept.

Avoiding paperwork.

He shook his head. You're hiding. You're running away from everything again. You aren't the only one who's ever suffered, Dace. He shifted, moving in closer, leaning over me. Life doesn't revolve around you alone. We've spent enough of our lives worrying about you and chasing after you. And you're still demanding everyone drop everything to deal with your moods.

I slammed the bin shut. I am not demanding anything! I don't want your sympathy. I don't want you meddling in my life. I don't want you telling me what I should do. I turned away from him, stalking towards the stairs. If I stayed any longer, I'd be tempted to sucker punch him. In the head.

You're being an idiot, he called after me. Running away to hide instead of facing things. Just like always.

I stopped and counted slowly to ten. I only made it to three.

I am not running away. I am leaving before I do something I'll regret.

I'd like to see you try.

You want me to break your arms? I turned to face him again.

I want to see you doing something more than crawling through the engine or moping in the cockpit. If you're really through with Tayvis, then let him go and start living again.

I have, I shouted.

Not that anyone would notice.

You're right, Darus. You're a lousy engineer. I turned and marched up the stairs before I could see the hurt in his face.

What right did he have to tell me that? His words stung, mostly because they were true. I went to my cabin and locked the door behind me. It would have been much more satisfying to slam the door, but spaceship doors don't slam. I threw myself onto my bunk.

I fumed at the ceiling for a while. I wasn't sure what hurt most, the fact that Darus was right about me running away or him saying it out loud. I didn't know who I was anymore. I hadn't figured out how to fit back in on the Phoenix. I could leave, but I didn't want to. I wanted things to be simple again. I wanted the easy friendship I'd had before with Jasyn and Clark and the others. I didn't know how to build it again.

There was a small compartment next to my bunk. It held the few possessions I didn't want to lose. I opened the door. Taped to the inside were several pictures, several years old now. Me with Jasyn and Clark at their wedding. A picture of the crew of the Phoenix at Jerimon's wedding. Ginni was the only one not in that picture. Clark's sister Twyla had just joined us. And so had Beryn. Darus wasn't in that one, either, I noticed. He'd still been in the Patrol. I ran my fingers over the faces in the pictures.

I had a few other snapshots. One of me and Darus on Parrus right after we'd escaped from Vallius. We both looked happy. What had gone wrong? Why couldn't we just be friends and let it grow from there?

I stopped at the last picture. I hadn't opened this compartment for a long time, not since before I'd left for Serrimonia. The last picture was grainy, a poor copy of a surveillance photo. The face was blurred, but it didn't matter. I knew that face almost as well as my own. I pulled the picture free and rolled over onto my back. I held Tayvis' picture up. Nothing was ever going to fix the pain between us now.

He'd walked out on me, after promising he would never walk away from me again. He hadn't trusted me enough to believe in me. Nothing was ever going to bring him back. I started to crumple the picture in my hand.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't let go. Maybe in the future, but not yet. I slid the picture into the compartment under a stack of notes, a very small stack. I should throw them out, they were all from Tayvis, reminders of what might have been. I fingered them and knew I could never throw them out. Tayvis was always going to be part of my life.

I pulled out the other stack of notes I had hidden in the compartment. They were love letters from my mother to my father. The stack was short, more because of circumstances than anything else. She was native to Tivor, he had been Patrol. They should never have met. But they had met and fallen in love and risked everything to marry. Darus had been transferred away as soon as they were discovered. He hadn't known she was already pregnant with me. He tried everything to get her off Tivor. She'd died in the food riots a few years later. And I'd been left an orphan, at least as far as the government was concerned.

Did Darus regret never seeing her again? Was that why he was pushing me so hard? He didn't want me to make the same mistakes he had, except my relationship with Tayvis was completely different. Tayvis had chosen to walk away. And there was nothing I could do about it.

I sighed and slid the notes back. The compartment contained a few other trinkets, momentos of times that had been peaceful and happy. There weren't very many in my life.

Someone knocked at my door. I ignored it. They knocked again. I shut the compartment and rolled onto my back.

What? Couldn't they just leave me alone for a while?

The lock on my door snapped and released. I glared at the door as it slid open. Overriding the lock was just plain cheating. Clark walked into my cabin. He let the door slide shut behind him.

Did they send you to chew me out again? I asked. Or are you here to pretend to cheer me up?

He sighed and sat in the chair next to my bunk. The cabin was very small.

Why do you keep fighting with everyone? You're so prickly.

I always have been, Clark. And I'm not fighting with anyone. Except Darus and he started it.

He cares about you.

I know. So do the rest of you. I sighed and propped my head up on my pillow. Darus picks fights with me. Jasyn and Twyla keep trying to cheer me up. Ginni avoids me. Beryn ignores me. And you play psych tech. The only person on this ship who treats me like a normal person is Louie.

And he screams anytime you come near him, Clark said.

So I don't go near him.

You hide instead. From everyone.

What's wrong with that?

Dace—

Is there some reason I should leave the ship or be happy all the time? I'm not happy, but maybe someday I will be. I need some time, Clark. I need space to find my own answers.

The ship is pretty small.

I shook my head. I don't want to leave. I get nervous when I do. It's like knowing something bad is about to happen, but you don't know what.

The worst that will happen is you'll have to deal with port authority.

I know that. I didn't say it was a rational feeling. Just give me time. And tell the others to quit trying to cheer me up.

And tell Darus to quit picking fights with you?

I don't know why he does.

Because he's worried about you. He wants to help and doesn't know how. You won't let him.

He said it was because I think he's a lousy engineer.

You redo everything he does.

Because it keeps me busy. He's a decent engineer.

I'll tell him you said that. He made no move to leave. He watched me instead.

I gave in with a sigh. I'll tell him myself. And apologize to him. Again. He has to apologize, too.

Why do I feel like a referee around here? Clark stood. Dinner should be ready in about an hour.

He left, shutting and locking the door behind him.

It was an illusion of privacy. I knew they cared about me, that Jasyn worried about me. But I needed to sort out my own feelings in my own head. I glanced at the door to the hidden compartment. My life, a pitiful handful of photos, but it was my life. And those were the good times. I promised myself there would be more good times. And fewer bad ones.

Chapter 4

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.

Chapter 5

The cargo is loaded, Beryn announced. We're good to go.

We've got a window near midnight, Clark answered.

I flipped another page in the reader. Not that I was really reading the file in front of me, but if I appeared busy, the others usually left me alone.

What is that? Beryn asked over my shoulder. Advanced bio research papers?

No, trade research, I answered, shutting the reader.

We're headed to Tireo next, Clark told me. They specialize in textiles and handwork like embroidery, not bio research. Textiles are more your specialty.

I shrugged, standing up from the table. I was feeling crowded. It sounded interesting. I rummaged through the cupboard until I found the cookie tin Jasyn usually kept full. It was empty except for some dried crumbs. I put it back.

Louie started to cry. He was in his nursery, supposedly sleeping. Clark went to get him.

I found a package of crackers and took them to the table. I picked one out of the wrapper and bit into it as I opened the reader.

I think we still have cheese left, Beryn offered. Do you want some?

He didn't wait for me to answer. I didn't bother, I knew he wasn't going to wait. It would give me a chance to say no. I curled my feet under me and tried to concentrate on the words of the article I'd downloaded at random.

Beryn whistled while he sliced cheese. He put a plate on the table in front of me. And then he sat down and helped himself to the crackers. He chewed for a minute.

You aren't really reading that, he said after a long minute.

I am trying to, I said. It requires concentration.

Beryn ate another cracker. We could both hear Clark talking nonsense to Louie. Louie giggled.

Wouldn't you rather play cards? Beryn asked.

No. Last time I played, you kept accusing me of cheating. I kept my eyes on the reader. The article was way over my head, delving into the technical aspects of invertebrate biology on a planet I'd never heard of. I had to keep reading the same sentence over and over. It still didn't make sense.

Beryn ate another cracker, crunching it noisily. How about a game of Crystals, then?

I'm trying to read.

"If you want left alone,

Reviews for Phoenix in Flames

[billygenetaylor · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I love this series! Dace is a compelling hero! Bravo!!!!