Priestess of the Eggstone (38 page)

He escorted me through the ship to the airlock where Jerimon and Jasyn waited. I didn’t see any sign of Luagin or his crew. Or Tayvis.

“What’s wrong?” Jasyn asked when we stepped into the airlock.

I shook my head at the same time our guard ordered us quiet.

We stepped into the Patrol docking bay of Viya Station. A squad of Enforcers marched Luagin and his crew into the station ahead of us. The captain of the ship waited with another escort of Enforcers. He shook his head at the three of us.

“You are either the biggest liars I’ve ever met, or—I don’t know what you are. I’ve never heard such an incredible story in my life.” He signed us over to the Enforcer squad captain. “Good luck.”

The Enforcers checked our cuffs. I winced when they tightened mine. They herded us along the curve of the dock.

The station commander stood in the middle of the bay, watching us, surrounded by a group of high officials with enough braid and medals to look like ornaments. Tayvis watched with them. His plain black stuck out like a dark hole in the middle of a flower patch. I looked away, lifting my chin. I didn’t want his sympathy or his offer, because I knew I couldn’t resist it a second time.

They loaded us into a fast Messenger-class cruiser. Our guards escorted us to a small cabin, took off the cuffs, then locked the door on their way out. Jasyn waited until the lock clicked.

“What do you know that we don’t?”

“Nothing.” I slumped on a bunk. “What did they do to you?”

“The ships counsel came and recorded my explanations. Then they ignored me.”

“And?” She planted fists on her hips.

Jerimon leaned against the wall, eyebrows raised. “Well, Dace?”

“Go away, Jerimon.”

“I don’t think they’d let me.” He crossed his legs, one ankle draped over the other. I dropped an arm over my face.

“It’s Tayvis, isn’t it,” Jasyn said.

I closed my eyes, wishing I were somewhere else. Jasyn wasn’t going to give up until I gave her an answer.

“He tried to recruit me. He followed me on Lowell’s orders. I told him to go away.”

“Dace, you’re an idiot.”

I opened one eye.

“And he’s just as dumb to listen to you.” She sat cross-legged on the end of the bunk.

Jerimon grinned.

I closed my eyes and pretended he didn’t exist.

We landed a day later. Our escort wasted no time marching us out of the ship and into bright, blinding sunlight. I recognized the wide field and hot summer of Tebros.

We marched to a cluster of buildings at the far edge. The Patrol shield dominated the side of the biggest one. Our escort took us to one side, into an office building. The receptionist at the front desk gave us a blank stare. The Enforcers didn’t bother talking to him.

We were taken back to a long dim hallway. They put us in different rooms.

I sat on the single rickety chair in the room; the chair protested. The Enforcer stood by the door and waited. I looked out a window dim with dust and watched weeds grow along the fence bordering the landing field. The air vent creaked like wheezy breathing. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck.

The door finally opened, admitting the last person I wanted to ever see.

“Hello, Dace,” said Commander Grant Lowell. “Have a nice trip?”

I looked out the window.

He waited a long moment.

“I have an offer for you,” he said.

“I’m not interested,” I answered, refusing to meet his gaze.

“These criminal charges will get you locked away for at least ten years. The civil ones will add another five or ten more. Is that really what you want?”

“I’m not signing up. I’m not joining the Patrol. Ever.”

“You’ve made that quite clear. I have a different offer.” He crossed the room to the window, tapping his hands together behind his back.

“Well?”

He smiled, the kind of smile a sandcat gives right before it eats you. “All criminal charges will be dropped.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Let the psych techs dig up everything you know about the Sessimoniss. Tell us everything, record everything. Your friends have already agreed.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. We’ve been trying to establish relations with the Sessimoniss for years. That uniform you’re wearing,” he glanced at the name tag, “belonged to a man whose primary mission was to find their homeworld and make contact with them. More than the casual trade contacts which happen all too rarely. Simms apparently found it.”

“It’s not their homeworld,” I said before I could stop myself.

His predatory smile would have done any large carnivore proud. “See how easy this is going to be?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I signed the agreement Lowell had waiting in his pocket.

The psych techs collected me, hustling me to the big medical complex next door where they shut me in a cubicle with a recorder and a glass of water.

I talked into the recorder until my voice was hoarse. I told them everything I could remember of the Sessimoniss, everything the Eggstone had poured into my mind. Their expressions never showed anything more than clinical disinterest. When I finished hours later, they removed the table and chair, replacing them with a narrow cot. I was escorted to a bathroom down the hall, the guard following me all the way there and back. The windows we passed showed night scenes of the spaceport with its yellow spotlights glowing like lost stars.

They sent in a hypno tech, but had to resort to the old mind manipulation techniques. They couldn’t establish a telepathic link, because on human scales I scored a zero.

“What came next?” The tech’s voice was even, smooth, a soothing alto.

I blinked, summoning memories of a bright summer day on Serrimonia. The priestess sat on a chair at the top of the steps of the temple of the Eggstone. A large crowd gathered below. The priests of Sekkitass emerged from their temple across the stone plaza, a black snake slashed liberally with red, like wounds. In their midst walked two figures, shorter with strange brownish growths on their heads instead of proper crests. They wore suits the color of the sky.

I stopped talking, staring at the scarred table and the recorder. I didn’t want to relive this memory.

“Continue,” said the tech.

I fingered the name patch on the uniform I wore.

“Not this one. They executed Simms and Peterson. For trespassing on their world. For being a blasphemy to their god Sekkitass. I can’t.”

The tech studied me for a long moment, her face bland, showing nothing. She jotted a note.

“Continue,” she said.

I plunged into the nightmare, an involuntary participant. My voice described each vivid detail while my conscious self shuddered. The priests stripped off the blue uniforms. They flayed the men using thongs studded with their own teeth. Their skin turned from pinkish brown to red. The screams lasted a very long time.

Another memory followed, another nightmare of alien thoughts and customs. The tech’s voice trapped me as the images buried me in a cascade of Sessimoniss thought.

When she finally released me, I stared at the scarred table, unable to forget. I raised my hands and rubbed moisture from my face. I felt old, exhausted. My head pounded.

The tech gathered her papers and the recorder.

I sat in the windowless room. My skin itched, as if it didn’t quite fit.

The Enforcer opened the door. He set the force cuffs on the table. “I have orders to take you to the planetary police headquarters. Your hearing is scheduled for the morning.”

“Hearing?” I felt thick, tired, my brain awash with Sessimoniss thoughts and feelings.

“For the civil charges.” He frowned.

My ears buzzed, I strained to hear Sessimoniss words instead of Basic.

A medtech brought a steaming cup of stimulant drink, tapping his foot impatiently while I drank it.

The enforcer locked the cuffs on my wrists. I stumbled to my feet. The Enforcer took my arm, guiding me out of the building. I kept tripping over my feet.

He put me into the back seat of a groundcar. I dozed off.

The Enforcer nudged me awake much too soon, helping me from the car. He walked me to a single door with a yellow light above it set in a long, blank wall. It looked like a delivery entrance.

A man in a dark blue planetary police uniform, complete with shiny silver stripes and pins, opened the door. The Enforcer signed a pad, the policeman added his signature, the Enforcer gave him a copy, then left. I shifted my feet on the grimy plascrete flooring.

“This way.” The policeman jerked his head to the far end of the hall.

I stumbled down the hall, so tired I couldn’t see straight.

The door at the end opened into a block of cells. He unlocked the door to one halfway down. I staggered inside. The clang of the door slamming echoed in my head.

I dropped to the bed, falling asleep in seconds despite the force cuffs still pinching my wrists.

The door clanged open, startling me awake.

“Time to rise and shine.” A female voice, much too loud and cheerful.

I groaned and tried to hide my head. The cuffs caught on the thin mattress of the bunk. The woman clucked her disapproval. The cuffs pulled tight, then dropped off. I sighed with relief.

“You’ve got ten minutes to eat before the court guard collects you,” the cheerful voice said. Her feet slapped on the plascrete floor. She left the door open.

The smell of hot breakfast finally penetrated my brain. I peeled my eyes open. A tiny tray rested on the bunk next to me. Steam rose from the food. My stomach growled. I took its advice, relishing every bite.

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to restore a semblance of order. I saw the name tag on my borrowed uniform and shuddered at the bright memory of Simms’ death. I pushed it away. I didn’t want to remember the way the Eggstone did, each moment bright and clear forever. I liked my fuzzy memories.

Two massive female guards escorted me from the cellblock and up four flights of stairs. Each set got fancier, the last carved marble stairs wide enough for ten people. Each floor bustled with people, each group more important and busier than the last.

We stopped in front of carved wooden doors flanked by marble pillars. A sign identified the room as the Hovard P. Limbasta Memorial Courtroom. The doors opened from the inside. We marched along an aisle between thickly cushioned seats. The guards opened a waist-high gate of carved wood. Another guard, one with more gold braid, pulled me through, seating me at a table to my right with Jerimon and Jasyn. They both wore the same outfits, Jasyn in a sky blue uniform that matched mine and Jerimon still in the dark chaffeur’s uniform. It looked worse for wear. All of us wore cuffs.

Our guard prodded my shoulder. “Stand up.”

We stood.

The judge entered the court, looking suitably dignified. He climbed a short staircase to a boxed enclosure. A single clerk sat in front of the judge, surrounded by various recording devices. The other side of the room held spectators. Their whispering sounded like water flushing through pipes.

The judge rapped on his desk. The whispers faded.

“Read the charges.”

The clerk cleared her throat. “The planetary government of Tebros versus the crew of the Belliff courier ship, Twinkle. Captain Dace and Co-pilot Jerimon Pai.” She read for twenty minutes. She traded notepads, reading another long list of charges leveled by Viya Station, then Besht, Landruss, and Vega. Nevira’s list only took five minutes. The woman finished, setting her notepad primly on her desk as she took her chair.

The judge stroked his chin.

“We have lists of charges from six-dozen businesses and other enterprises, and suits from individual citizens,” the woman added.

The judge’s eyebrows drew together.

I shuffled my feet. My leg cramped.

“How do you plead?” the judge demanded, pinning each of us in turn with a gaze that could have been used to deep-freeze food.

“My clients are not prepared to answer that,” answered a voice from the back of the room. A short man pushed his way forward, using a thick briefcase to batter his way through the gates. The balding head looked familiar.

“Who is that?” The judge’s frown turned into a full-blown glare. “Remove that man.”

“I am legal counsel for the accused.” The man wedged his briefcase into the gate, shoving it open.

“Leon?” Jerimon whispered.

The judge looked like he’d bitten into a very sour berry. He turned his glare on me. “Is this person your counsel?”

I glanced at Leon, now setting his briefcase on the table. He gave me a grin that would have made any sandcat momma proud.

“He is,” I said at the same time Jerimon said, “Yes, your honor.”

Jasyn nodded. “He represents us, your honor.”

The judge glared at Leon. “How do your clients plead?”

“My clients are unprepared to answer that at this time.” Leon’s voice was too thin and squeaky to be impressive.

“Your clients have had three days, at least.”

“No, your honor, they have not.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his briefcase. “I have the sworn statement of a Patrol Enforcer that they spent that time in the custody of the Patrol psych techs. They haven’t had any time at all.” He handed the paper to the guard. “With all due respect, your honor, I ask for a recess.”

The judge jerked a finger at the guard who took Leon’s paper and presented it to the high podium. The judge snatched the paper, reading it quickly. I half-expected the paper to burst into flames. He slammed his podium. “Recess for one hour.” He marched away in a swirl of dark purple robes. His private door slammed shut.

Leon was the cat that got the cream.

I dropped into the chair, trying to massage the cramp out of my leg with my cuffed hands. “What are you trying to pull?”

“What? No happy to see you, how have you been, thanks for everything, Leon?”

“Good to see you again, Leon,” Jerimon said.

“Who’s the young lady?” Leon asked.

“My sister, Jasyn.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Leon extended his hand.