Fallen Empire Books 1-3

  “Blanked,” Naidoo murmured.

  “What?”

  “That’s the term we use. It’s a barrier we can construct in a person’s mind to keep them from accessing memories and thoughts momentarily.”

  “Sounds disturbing.”

  “It’s useful. It often prevents the need for physical violence.”

  “Well, these kidnappers knew how to blank people then. They were definitely Starseers. Are you able to look up your kind in a database? Could you search for the name Durant? I’m not sure if that was a last name or a first name, but surely some matches would come up, and we could narrow things down. I already checked the sys-net, and there are tens of thousands of Durants out there, thousands just on Perun. There was no way to tick a checkbox and only get the Starseer ones, not that the empire or Alliance has thorough records involving your people.”

  Naidoo shook her head. Frustrated, Alisa sat back in the chair, her shoulder blades thumping against it.

  “I’ve already searched,” Naidoo said. “Nothing came up. It’s possible that those you saw were mundane people using a few tricks to make it appear that they were Starseers, to put the blame on our organization and distract searchers.”

  Alisa scowled, not believing that. What tricks could have done what she had seen? Nothing that wouldn’t require instruments or drugs, and the camera hadn’t shown anyone using any tools.

  “It’s also possible,” Naidoo said, “that they were rogue Starseers. We are not a completely united organization. Some people develop some of the talents without receiving any formal training. Others are trained in our schools but then go their separate ways.”

  “What, they don’t want to pay the membership dues?”

  “Differences of opinion mostly.” Naidoo chuckled. “The dues aren’t that high.”

  Alisa was not in the mood to chuckle.

  “It’s rare for those people to work in concert once they leave the temple, but it’s certainly possible that some of them chose to do so for a joint goal.”

  “What kind of joint goal could involve an eight-year-old girl? It’s not like our family was special. We’re not heirs to the imperial throne. You can probably tell just by looking at my ship.”

  Naidoo smiled. “I hear it’s rustic.”

  Rustic, right.

  “I regret that I cannot help you further. You are welcome to remain here until you’re rested and your engineer has completed any repairs necessary to your ship.” Naidoo stood up, reclaiming her staff. “If you won’t find my advice presumptuous, I suggest you leave as soon as your repairs are complete. I also suggest you part ways from Dr. Dominguez and the cyborg. What they seek is nothing that you want to return to the system.”

  “Yeah, I’ve already figured that out.”

  Naidoo tilted her head, regarding her curiously. “Then why stay with them?”

  Alisa blushed as thoughts of massages and Leonidas with his shirt off entered her mind.

  “Ah,” Naidoo said. Fortunately, she walked out without further commentary.

  Alisa rubbed her face. “I’m an idiot.”

  After the door shut, Yumi walked out of the bedroom. Alisa had almost forgotten she was in there. Her eyes were red. Maybe she had been crying instead of meditating.

  “This trip wasn’t quite what I hoped for,” Alisa said.

  “I should have known… not to have hopes.”

  “I guess it could have been worse.” Alisa thought of the White Dragon ship, it and its dead crew now at the bottom of a frozen sea.

  “True.” Yumi looked toward the door Naidoo had walked out. “Do you believe her?”

  “I… haven’t had time to consider everything fully yet. Why, don’t you?” Even as Alisa asked the question, she remembered the way Abelardus had reacted when she’d said the name Durant. Naidoo might not have shown anything, but he had seemed to recognize it. Was it possible he had known this person, someone who had left the organization, as Naidoo had suggested? Maybe Naidoo had lied about not knowing who Durant was.

  “Given the modern, mission-control-central feel of the throne room, with those feeds coming in from all over the system, carefully sorted to display mentions of Starseers…” Yumi raised her eyebrows as she trailed off, perhaps asking if Alisa had noticed that too.

  Alisa nodded.

  “It seems that they would have ways to keep track of their own people,” Yumi continued. “Current members of the organization or not.”

  “So, you’re saying I should try to make arrangements to go snooping around the facility, perhaps into that computer room or into the library where the doctor is researching?”

  “Ah,” Yumi said. “Did I say that? I don’t think so.”

  “It was implied.”

  “There’s a guard outside of our door.”

  “Is there?”

  Alisa hadn’t noticed when Naidoo and Abelardus arrived. She stood and walked over to open the door—it was made of wood instead of ice. She poked her head into the hallway. Sure enough, one of the young, muscular Starseer warriors stood out there, looking alert and fierce as he returned her gaze, his staff in hand.

  “Any chance of getting some refreshments?” Alisa asked.

  He frowned at her, then focused on the extremely exciting opposite wall. Which was made of ice. Naturally.

  Alisa closed the door and stepped back into the room. “You’re right. We are guarded.”

  She drummed her fingers on the back of the sofa. A minute ago, she had been content to stay in this room until Alejandro finished his research, but now, she felt like a caged animal, itching to escape and have the freedom to roam the forest. Or the icy temple, in this case.

  “My mother is going to come get me for breakfast shortly after dawn,” Yumi said. “I suppose that doesn’t help you with your snooping, but I could ask her about Naidoo and try to ferret out how trustworthy she is.”

  “Do you think she would answer honestly?” Alisa hadn’t heard Ji-yoon speak more than a couple of words and had the impression that the woman wasn’t tickled that Yumi had come here and brought strangers.

  “I don’t know. It’s been nearly twenty years since we spent time together, but I would probably have an easier time telling if she was lying than I would if we were dealing with a total stranger.”

  “Assuming she doesn’t diddle with your mind.”

  “I have a drug along that temporarily changes the chemical composition of the human brain and makes your thoughts harder for a Starseer to read. It was used by the military during the Order Wars. I believe the cyborgs even tried it, though they metabolized it quickly, making the window of potency short for them.”

  “You’re going to drug yourself for your breakfast with your mother?”

  Yumi smiled. “It crossed my mind, but perhaps not, since we have a guard. I didn’t know about the breakfast beforehand, so the substance—qui-gorn—is in my cabin on the ship.”

  Alisa clasped her chin in her hand as she gazed at Yumi, ideas percolating through her mind. “Yumi, Naidoo referred to your mother as an archivist. What does she do exactly?”

  “Archives things.” Yumi shrugged. “You might actually have a lot to talk to her about, though, since she’s also a pilot. I believe she was one of the Starseers friendly to the Alliance who participated in the war, flying around and providing intelligence for your side.” Yumi sighed wistfully. “I would so like to know her better. I wish she had an interest in knowing me.”

  “She invited you to breakfast,” Alisa said, though she was rubbing her chin and thinking furiously, more intrigued by Yumi’s mother’s position as an archivist than the fact that she might have been an Alliance sympathizer. “Maybe she’s more interested than you know.”

  “Actually, I suggested coffee or a meal,” Yumi said.

  “Well, she said yes.”

  “Reluctantly. She sounded like she had work to do.”

  “Small victories, Yumi. Small victories.” Alisa lowered her hand and propped it on th
e back of the sofa. “What would your mother think if you invited your good friend, Captain Marchenko, to breakfast?”

  “Good friends, Captain? I had no idea you felt that way about me.”

  “I did offer you a job.”

  “I heard you offered Leonidas a job too.”

  “I did. As well as Mica. But sadly, Beck is the only one who’s officially agreed to employment. I can only assume that I’m a tyrannical shrew that nobody wants to work for.”

  “I just don’t want to take your money. You seem to need it.”

  Alisa acknowledged that truth with a wriggle of her fingers. “Whatever our relationship, I would consider it a favor if you would invite me along to breakfast with your mother.”

  “I can certainly try. Like I said, you two have something in common as pilots, so she may be interested in talking to you.”

  “Excellent. I would also consider it a favor if you would slip something into your mother’s meal to make her more amenable to telling the truth.”

  “Uh, you want me to drug my mother?”

  “Yes, will that be a problem?”

  Chapter 8

  “This isn’t going to work,” Yumi whispered.

  “Just follow my lead,” Alisa whispered back, her hand on the doorknob. Since Yumi’s stockpile of herbs, powders, and dried mushrooms was back on the ship, they needed to get the guard to let them visit. So long as the man was reasonable and didn’t go rifling through their minds, Alisa hoped it would be possible.

  “When we’re close to him, empty your mind and keep from focusing on your deceit,” Yumi said. “Even a warrior will have rudimentary telepathy and be able to read your surface thoughts.”

  “Telepathy, is that what they call their weird skills?”

  “As children, most of them learn telepathy, telekinesis, and something they call long-seeing.”

  “Is that the thing where they see into stars?”

  “Yes,” Yumi said. “Some of the specialists have other talents, such as precognition, matter manipulation, and pyrotechnics, but those are the basics. The ones trained as fighters usually aren’t as mentally adroit as the scholars, but most of them will be able to glimpse your surface thoughts. More skilled telepaths can dig in and find memories you’ve long forgotten.”

  “Charming.”

  “They are powerful enemies.”

  “Good thing I don’t want to start a war with any of them,” Alisa said.

  “You just want to drug them.”

  “Drugs are happy-makers. Who could object?”

  Yumi’s expression was dubious.

  “Let’s do this,” Alisa murmured and opened the door.

  The same guard stood outside, still staring at the opposite wall. Maybe he was practicing his mental skills. He turned his head to gaze indifferently over at them.

  “When are those refreshments coming?” Alisa asked. “I’m dying to know what you people eat and drink up here.”

  “Nourishment will be provided when it’s deemed necessary.”

  “We actually can’t wait here indefinitely. My passenger has a flock of chickens on my freighter. She needs to go back to feed them. And I forgot to eat dinner since I was busy being chased and shot at by a mafia ship, so I’d like to raid my chocolate stash too.”

  “I’ve been instructed to keep you in your rooms.” The guard had blue eyes that were similar in color to the icy walls, something Alisa noticed as they locked onto hers.

  Her skin crawled as she sensed—or maybe just imagined him—probing into her thoughts.

  Emptying her mind and trying not to think about something, as Yumi had suggested, was difficult. She decided to try to think about something else instead. What might repulse the man and make him want to stay out of her thoughts? Images of death? Of the atrocities she had seen in the war? No, he’d probably just wonder why she was thinking about these things. Instead, she smiled slightly as she found something more recent to contemplate.

  In her mind, she went back to her conversation with Leonidas, the conversation about massages. She also remembered the times she had seen him with his shirt off, his thick, muscular torso on display, once in sickbay when Alejandro had been patching him up and once in his cabin, when she had woken him from his sleep. His hair had been tousled then, a pillow crease on his face, and the dim lighting of the corridor creating interesting shadows between his muscles. Before she got to the point of imagining herself giving him a massage, the guard’s lip curled up.

  He looked over at Yumi. Whatever she was thinking about must not have come across as duplicitous, because he grunted and said, “Fine. I’ll escort you there and back. No detours.”

  “Thank you,” Alisa said, tamping down the triumphant smile that wanted to curve her lips.

  She kept her thoughts on Leonidas as they walked through the corridors, just in case the guard chose to dip back in to see what other clothes might come off.

  She expected to find the Nomad’s cargo hatch closed, the ramp drawn up, and Beck inside with the heat cranked up as he snoozed in his bunk. It was well into the middle of the night and even colder than it had been when they first landed. The temple itself, with its ice walls, was cold, but the outdoor docks and landing pads, being open to the elements, were even more frigid.

  When they reached the ship, Alisa was surprised to find the ramp down and Beck at the bottom, his grill set up with more skewers of duck sending smoke wafting into the crisp air as they cooked. Two men in black robes stood in front of his portable kitchen, chatting with him as they waved around skewers of half-eaten meat.

  “Beck,” Alisa greeted, walking up.

  He flinched when he noticed her, or maybe it was the fierce guard walking behind her that extracted the reaction. The expression of surprise faded quickly, and he smiled. “Hello, Captain. You’re up late.”

  “The chickens needed to be fed,” Alisa said, pointing her thumb to Yumi and widening her eyes slightly, hoping Beck would notice the sign and not point out that they had been fed right before the group first went into the temple. “Got enough to share there?”

  “Of course.” Beck handed skewers to Alisa and Yumi, then waved one toward the guard. “Are you interested, sir? The food is free, but I accept tips.” He pointed to his cup, which held far more coins than it had when they had been on the space station. It was nearly full of whole tindark coins.

  Perhaps noticing her surprise, Beck leaned close to Alisa and whispered, “This has been brilliant. The Starseers are flush with cash and have nothing to spend it on up here. I don’t think they pay taxes, either.”

  Alisa snorted. “Are you going to pay taxes?”

  “Of course, Captain. I’m a law-abiding Alliance citizen.”

  “Uh huh. Feed our friend there, will you?” Alisa tilted her head toward the guard, hoping the man would not insist on following her into the ship. Holding her own skewer, Alisa started up the ramp with Yumi, taking a bite as she walked. She paused at the top. “Beck?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is even better than last time. Did you make any modifications to your spice blend?”

  Beck’s lips twisted with distaste. “Yes.”

  “Based on someone’s suggestion, perhaps?” She did not use Leonidas’s name, not wanting to mention him in front of the Starseers. The less they thought about him, the better.

  “Yes,” Beck admitted, “but don’t tell him that, all right?”

  “Maybe you should tell him. And invite him to be your permanent taster.”

  Beck’s lips turned downward so deeply that the corners were in danger of falling off his chin.

  As soon as they were in the ship and out of the guard’s line of sight, Alisa shooed Yumi toward her cabin. “Get what you need. I’m going to check on Mica. I’m sure we won’t have much time.”

  The chickens squawked happily at their appearance, or maybe they were complaining that the hatch was open, with cold air flowing over their pen. At least the heat was on inside. The noisy chi
ckens should lend credence to their story. Even so, Alisa kept her thoughts away from her intentions as much as possible, in case the guard was still monitoring them.

  Yumi hustled up the stairs toward the passenger cabins. Alisa found Mica in engineering, though she had switched from working on things to sprawling on a cot in the corner and watching a vid on her netdisc. Or maybe she had been sleeping while it played in the background. The lights were dimmed, and she yawned impressively when Alisa walked in.

  “Ship all fixed?” Alisa asked.

  “I’ve got the shields regenerating themselves,” Mica said. “Beyond that, it was mostly cosmetic damage when we crashed.”

  “When mental manipulation of our tools and our minds forced us to land abruptly,” Alisa corrected, refusing to add that incident to her record as a crash.

  “Land abruptly? We skidded across the ice on our asses for a mile.”

  “Either way, we ready to leave any time now?”

  “Uh.” Mica slung her legs over the edge of the cot. “There’s nothing wrong with the ship that would keep us grounded. But…”

  Alisa grimaced. She didn’t want to hear about a but. She wanted to drug Yumi’s mom, find out where her daughter was, and leave without further trouble. If Alejandro finished up his orb research and wanted a ride out of here, fine, but she wouldn’t be that upset if she had to part ways with him here.

  “Follow me,” Mica said, yawning again. She padded out of engineering in her socks and led the way through the cargo hold and up the stairs, pausing to glower at the cold air coming in through the hatch.

  “You do have a cabin with a bed in it,” Alisa commented.

  “I like to keep an eye on the equipment, especially when odd things might happen.”

  “Odd?”

  Mica stepped into NavCom and prodded a monitor to life. The feed from one of the cameras on the undercarriage of the ship filled the display. Alisa had a view of the pier underneath them, a water line that someone must have allowed Mica to hook up, and—

  “Uh, what is that?” She pointed at some kind of metal frame just visible on the side of the video pickup.