Chain of Secrets

  Chain of Secrets

  The Fall of the Altairan Empire, Book 8

  Jaleta Clegg

  Copyright 2014 Jaleta Clegg

  Smashwords Edition

  ©2014

  Please do not copy or distribute this book without the permission of the author.

  A complete listing of works can be found at http://www.jaletac.com

  The Fall of the Altairan Empire series can be found at http://www.altairanempire.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  "You're headed for the border?" The freighter captain shook his head. "No one wants to get close to the border, especially not near Tebros. My advice is to find a berth and work the Federation territories. Don't mess with the Empire at all. It's not a good place for a spacer right now."

  Tayvis pasted a smile on his face. The man was drunk, true, but he was only repeating what Tayvis had heard in every bar on the last six worlds. The Empire was crumbling at the edges and rotten at the center. The Federation grew exponentially as it drew in discontented frontier and fringe worlds. But Dace was somewhere in the Empire, too close to Lowell. "Thanks for the advice. I still need to get to Tebros."

  "You'd be better off heading out farther. Lots of new territories opening up. I heard about one not long ago. Trythia, I think? Big Patrol action, but they ran back across the border with their tails between their legs."

  Tayvis squelched the urge to pummel the man as he let the crowd pull him away from the bar. It wasn't the first rumor he'd heard about Trythia, told by those with no real knowledge or experience. The memories still hurt. Lowell had pulled the Patrol and run, taking Dace with him. And leaving Tayvis behind. He still wondered why.

  He stepped outside the bar into the planet's night. A sultry breeze ruffled his hair. He studied the ships on the landing field, wondering if any of them were headed closer to Tebros and the border. Maybe he should have stuck with Will and the ragged assortment of ships that constituted the Federation fleet. It would have added months to his travel time, though.

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shipsuit as he wove through the late-night crowds around the port bars. One of the ships had to be headed the direction he wanted to go. Time was passing and the situation in the Empire would only get worse.

  Lowell had Dace. Who knew what he'd sent her into this time.

  Chapter 2

  I shifted a bale of cargo, shoving it onto the trolley which I pushed across the landing field towards the warehouse. It was raining, a thin drizzle I remembered all too well from winters growing up in the orphanage. I was back on Tivor.

  Six weeks hadn't been near long enough to dull the pain. Tayvis, the one man I really loved, the person I knew better than any other, the anchor in my life for the last three and a half years, was gone. The pain helped in some ways. I didn't care if I died on this assignment.

  Lowell had sent me here. He said he needed me, and no one else. I was the only one who could do what needed to be done. I still wasn't sure why. What had my mother done that only I could undo?

  The wheels squeaked on the trolley squeaked as I shoved it across the cracked plascrete. The plan was for me to hide in the warehouse until everyone from the ship had left. Lowell had a contact in the capital city, he hoped. He hadn't heard from the man for several months. If his contact was there, he would let me out and hide me until I had the right papers and could start looking for the secrets my mother had left behind.

  I had three months to push things over the edge into chaos. I wondered again if Lowell really knew what he was asking me to do.

  I'd done it before, in less time, with less support. Lowell was confident I could do it here. He tried to tell me not to die doing it. I told him I wouldn't care if I did, right before I walked out of his ship to board the freighter that brought me back to Tivor.

  The trolley creaked and thumped as it crossed into the warehouse.

  "Over there," the supervisor shouted. He waved off to my left.

  I ducked my head and shoved. The crate teetered. The trolley protested before it changed course. I kept pushing, easing it farther to the side and into the dusty shadows of the warehouse. I pushed the crate into the corner then slipped around to the far side.

  In the rain and the confusion of unloading the freighter, no one missed me. They'd been well paid not to notice I was gone until they were a long way away.

  I sat behind the crate, jammed into the corner between the walls. A thin trickle of water leaked through the foundation. I shifted out of the puddle. I couldn't help but remember nights locked out of the orphanage, huddling on the doorstep in the rain, wondering when they were going to let me back in.

  I wiped my nose on the back of my hand. I was cold and tired. I couldn't make myself care. I leaned against the crate and dozed off.

  It was quiet when I woke. The warehouse was dim, only a single light burned near the entrance. I climbed up the side of the crate. I'd been boxed into the corner. The whole warehouse was filled with crates. The wide double door leading back to the space port was closed. I crouched on top of the crate and looked for my options. There were two doors opposite. One was a wide door for loading cargo. The other was small, narrow, almost hidden behind the crates. If Lowell's information was right, it would open into an alley where my contact would be waiting.

  The warehouse was silent except for the dripping of water. The crews were long gone. I stood and stepped to the next crate. It wobbled underfoot. I walked across the tops to the far side of the warehouse. I only had to jump one narrow aisle.

  I reached the back of the warehouse and lowered myself off the crate. I leaned against the narrow door, listening. I heard absolutely nothing. Why did they always listen at doors in the vids? I'd never heard anything useful. I wasn't sure why I was trying to listen now. I twisted the knob. The door was locked.

  I knelt down, peering at the lock. It was too dark. I got a tiny light from my pocket and aimed it at the lock. It was old, stained with rust. It was also the type of lock I'd first learned to pick. I gripped the light between my teeth then sat down. Lowell had provided me a set of lockpicks which I'd tucked inside my right boot. I fished them out and opened the packet. I had another set strapped to the inside of my left wrist and a third set taped to my waist.

  It took me a few m
inutes to get the lock open. It was corroded inside. Nobody had used this door in a long time. I put the lockpicks back in my boot.

  I stripped off the shipsuit next, emptying the pockets. I wore a dark dress underneath, simple cut with high neck and long sleeves. It was made out of plain cloth, like most of the clothes on Tivor, sturdy and unnoticeable. The skirt of the dress was long enough the breeches I wore barely showed. I pulled a headscarf out of my pocket and wrapped it around my hair. With dirt on my face I'd look like most of the other women on Tivor.

  I had a variety of items Lowell insisted I take. The only one I cared about was the tiny blaster hidden in a pocket down the side of my skirt. I stuffed the shipsuit into one of the crates, out of sight, then eased the door open, wincing as it creaked. I heard a suspicious clicking noise behind me in the warehouse and turned to look. It was as shadowed and empty as before. I turned back to the sliver of night showing in the open door.

  A single bulb barely lit the garbage that littered the alley. A trickle of filthy water ran down the center. Rain dripped from clouds overhead. I saw no sign of my contact.

  I pulled the door open far enough I could squeeze out then yanked it shut behind me. The lock caught, snapping into place with a sharp clack. I breathed in the smell of the alley. I was back on Tivor.

  I picked my way past the water and the garbage. Shoes tapped on pavement in the street beyond. A soldier in uniform stopped at the mouth of the alley. He flicked a light towards me. I knocked a pile of empty boxes over as I tried to blend into the shadows. They clattered to the alley floor. I ducked behind them.

  "Who's there?" The guard's light flickered over the end of the alley.

  A rat squealed next to me as it darted out, crossing the filthy stream to hide under another pile of boxes. The guard made a disgusted sound and walked on, his light focused on the other side of the street.

  I breathed, trying to stop my hands from shaking. Where was my contact? Had Tivor instituted a curfew? Lowell hadn't told me anything about that. He'd made it sound simple to sneak away from the warehouse and get where I needed to go. Lowell was good at making things sound simple when they really weren't.

  I moved more cautiously, picking each step with care. I reached the mouth of the alley and risked a quick look out. The guard was gone, around a corner. The reflection of his light danced in the water puddled on the pavement.

  I shivered, wet and cold in the thin rain. The street was deserted. The contact Lowell had arranged for me wasn't here. He may have been caught. He may have not gotten the messages. He may be dead. I didn't know and the presence of an armed guard patrolling the area made it impossible for me to wait for him.

  I slipped out and headed quickly down the street. I had a few places I could try, places I'd found as a child when I'd run away from the orphanage. They'd always found me eventually and returned me. But the hiding places might still exist and I might still have contacts.

  This area of the town was warehouses, run down and neglected and completely empty of people. I worked my way around the port, street by street. I ran as quietly as I could, stopping at corners to peer down empty streets. I hid in a doorway, avoiding another guard, one not as vigilant as the first.

  A fence blocked the next street, a new addition since I'd last roamed the town. It cut across a block of mostly crumbled buildings, a high, thick weave of wire designed to keep everything bigger than a rat from crossing.

  The ground was cleared on both sides, a strip maybe ten feet wide. I couldn't see any sign of a guard tower or patrol along the fence, but it might be wired for detection or possibly electrocution. I pulled a miniature com from a hidden pocket in my skirt. It was also a very basic scanner. I aimed it at the fence.

  The top two sets of wires carried a charge. If I climbed the fence and changed that charge at all, it would trigger an alarm. I put the com away as I considered my options. I could stay here, inside the fence, which meant it was only a matter of time before someone caught me. I could try to slip out when the workers came in during the day, except I suspected they were closely monitored. I could try climbing the fence and hope I didn't trigger the alarm. Or I could keep moving and find another way across.

  I slipped back to the street. The fence was the same at the end of that street but there was more cover, the buildings almost intact. I ducked through a gaping doorway, crawling to the demolished side to crouch behind rubble as I studied the fence.

  A pair of guards marched by, their footsteps crunching in the loose gravel that lined both sides of the fence. I timed two more patrols before leaving the damaged building.

  I skirted the area, shifting through shadows between the patrols. The fence surrounded the whole area, all of the warehouses and any building that might possibly provide contact with the space port. The ships were on the other side of the buildings. The only access to them was through the warehouses.

  The sky overhead grew lighter gray. The intermittent rain soaked me through. I ignored the cold and kept moving. I had to get out.

  The ships lifted off, three within a few minutes of each other. I watched them go. From what I'd learned from Lowell's files, they might be the only ships to land for the next month. I didn't care. I'd come to Tivor to die.

  I found a vantage point on the second floor of a vacant building that overlooked the gate area. The guards came and went every few minutes. I chewed my thumbnail as I watched. Slipping through wasn't an option. Someone was always watching the gate.

  I sat back, huddling against the wall. I was defeated before I'd even begun. I'd have to find a way into the Patrol base and call Lowell, tell him I was through.

  He wouldn't let me do that. He'd send me right back. I had to find a way over or under or through that fence.

  I heard voices and the rumble of engines. I peered over the window sill. A row of ancient trucks pulled up on the other side of the gate. They were searched one by one before being allowed inside the fence. I watched as they turned different ways, heading for the warehouses where cargo had been unloaded.

  I could slip inside one of the trucks. The guards would search them just as thoroughly when they were loaded. That wasn't a solution.

  I counted twenty trucks, not nearly enough to shift the cargo delivered during the night. After the trucks came workers on foot. There were at least fifty of them, men and women walking sleepily towards the gate. The guards checked papers before letting anyone through. The workers went a different direction from the trucks. I caught snatches of conversation as they crossed under my window. They were factory workers. Some of the goods and materials never left the port.

  I could steal someone's papers and leave with the others later. And leave that someone to pay for my meddling. I couldn't do that, not to an innocent woman. I had to figure something else out.

  I slipped down an alley then joined the crowd walking past. I ducked my head and tried to look sleepy. No one seemed to notice.

  Groups split off regularly, going into a row of square buildings a few at a time. I kept walking with the others. They had to show papers to get into the buildings. I got more nervous as the crowd around me got smaller with each building we passed.

  "Late again?" The voice sounded exasperated. A hand grabbed my elbow. I tensed, ready to fight or run. "Your shift started half an hour ago," the woman continued. She was dressed like me, dark dress and headscarf and boots.

  She pulled me towards one of the doors in a building smaller and shabbier than the others. The rest of the crowd was watching us. I couldn't run, not without creating a scene.

  "You are late," she whispered as we came near the door. "I expected you back by the warehouse." She squeezed my arm and flashed a half smile. "I only got Lowell's message yesterday."

  "He said there would be a man here," I objected, pulling back.

  The door slid open in front of us. The woman tugged me through. Her grip on my arm was strong.

  "Mennis was caught two months ago. I'm his replacement."

  "T
hen why doesn't Lowell know about you?"

  "Get in here, now," she ordered. "You're attracting attention."

  I let her drag me into the dark room. The door behind us slid closed. She led me down one side of the echoing space. Huge machines lined the floor. A group of people stood next to one, shifting pieces of it around with great effort. None of them looked at us.

  She led me into an office section. Most of the rooms were empty of everything but dust. She took me to the far end. The room had a flimsy table and two battered chairs. A rickety desk held an assortment of equipment, most of it obsolete. The smell of stale food lingered in the air.

  "This will take a moment." She bent over the equipment.

  "Who are you and what is this place?"

  "My name's Rian. This is supposed to be a textile plant. When they can get the equipment running again. I'm the secretary. Smile."

  A light flashed in my face. I blinked and saw spots.

  "And for the rest of your questions, I was sent to meet you. To make sure you had the necessary papers. It's still going to be difficult. Tivor is not a nice place."

  "Tell me about it," I said with a sigh. "Who sent you? Lowell doesn't know you."

  "He will soon enough. The ship that brought you is taking him my first report." She fiddled with the equipment on the desk. "What name do you want on your papers? Dace isn't going to fit in here. How about Disia Uvanos?"

  "Sounds fine." I paced, too keyed up to sit.

  "What do you know about Tivor?" Rian asked, busy with the equipment.

  "Why are you working for Lowell?"

  She shot a single glance at me. She had eyes the color of the rain clouds outside, deep gray with a just a hint of blue. "Why are you?"

  "Because I didn't have much choice. He told me I could come here or get shot for disobeying orders."

  "Lucky you. Most would have picked the firing squad."

  "Who are you?" I asked again.

  "Rian," she answered with a bland smile. The printer next to her spit out a small card. She picked it up and handed it to me. "Welcome to Tivor, Disia."