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    Jericho Falling
    Jericho Falling
    Jericho Falling
    Ebook475 pages6 hours

    Jericho Falling

    By Jaleta Clegg

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    When a desperate stranger accosts Dace to demand her help, it leads to a tangled morass of treason and secrets that could destroy everything she loves. Book six in the Fall of the Altairan Empire series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJaleta Clegg
    Release dateDec 17, 2013
    ISBN9781310044953
    Jericho Falling
    Author

    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.

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      Book preview

      Jericho Falling - Jaleta Clegg

      Chapter 1

      Commander Tayvis, please, sit. High Commander Nuella waved at a chair.

      Tayvis sat in the indicated chair, back ramrod straight.

      I'll come right to my point. What contact have you had with your commanding officer, Grant Lowell?

      Tayvis took a moment to choose his words, glancing at Admiral Johnston, sitting to one side of Nuella's desk. I haven't heard from him for over two months, sir.

      And that doesn't make you suspicious? Nuella leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting them on his desk. Look, I know you don't like me, Tayvis. You don't work for me or my branch of the Patrol. You're here because you follow orders. Usually. Yes, I have read the reports about you. I like to know who I'm working with.

      Tayvis glanced at Nuella's silver uniform, contrast to his own black one. If this is a matter for the Enforcers, Commander Maharta is in her office. She's the one authorized by Lowell to handle requests until he returns.

      Nuella waved his hand, dismissing the suggestion. His absence is the problem, Commander. Do you know where Lowell is? Or what he's doing?

      Tayvis shook his head. High Commander Lowell doesn't confide in me. I'm one of his agents, not his keeper.

      Don't lecture me about propriety. And don't hide behind it. You're a sector commander, not an ensign. Yes, you're young for the rank, but promoting you was one of the few decisions Lowell has made that I agree with. You're good, Tayvis. Very good. Which is why I've come to you.

      What do you want, Commander Nuella?

      Straight to the point. I like that. Lowell's planning treason.

      Tayvis shook his head, a denial on his lips.

      Nuella stopped him, leaning forward to stab the desk with one finger as emphasis. He's gone rogue, Tayvis. He's cracked, mentally. He dodged his last two psych evals. The one before that showed a growing paranoia and an increasingly agitated mental state. Tell me he hasn't been affected by his work. Tell me he's still rock solid. Make me believe it.

      Tayvis looked away from Nuella's measuring stare.

      Nuella nodded. You've seen his erratic behavior. You know I'm telling the truth. That fiasco on Xqtl unbalanced him.

      Tayvis studied his hands in his lap. What do you want me to do? Shoot him?

      Arrest him. Bring him back to Linas-Drias so we can get him medical help. Nuella sighed, tapping his desk with both hands. I don't know how he deals with the stress of his job. Mine is hard enough, but undercover? I couldn't do what he's done.

      You want me to hunt him down. Tayvis left it as a flat statement.

      He's dangerous, extremely dangerous. For the good of everyone in the Empire, he has to be stopped before he carries this charade any farther. He thinks someone is plotting a coup. I can't even begin to guess how many lives Lowell will ruin. You know how persuasive he is, how convincing he can be. Look what he talked you into doing. Think of the damage he will do when he convinces others his delusions are the truth. He'll get them to kill for him.

      Why me? Why not someone else?

      Nuella pursed his lips, considering his answer. I know you don't want to do this, Tayvis. I'm asking you to betray your commanding officer. Lowell inspires loyalty and I don't fault you for that. You should be commended. But, the truth is you know him better than anyone. You know how he thinks, where he'll go, who he'll talk to. You're very good at what you do. I'm asking you, for the good of the Empire, to find Lowell.

      And kill him if I can't convince him to subject himself to treatment?

      Nuella dropped his gaze. If necessary, yes. The Empire is at stake. Our peace and stability. Lowell is too powerful. He could destroy everything. He looked back up at Tayvis, his face solemn. You know I'm telling the truth. Admit it to yourself. Before it's too late. Lowell's insane. He has to be stopped and you know you're the best person to do that.

      Tayvis nodded, once, but he wouldn't meet Nuella's gaze.

      Nuella leaned back in his chair. You'll have latitude to do whatever you feel is necessary. You have my full support. Admiral Johnston will provide ships, men, whatever you need. He waved at the Fleet Admiral sitting silently in the office.

      Tayvis stood, turning for the door.

      One last thing, Commander. Nuella waited for Tayvis to look his direction. Don't trust any of your previous associates. We don't know who Lowell may have contacted, what lies he may have told.

      Don't tell me my job, Commander Nuella. I'll bring Lowell back. But I hope for your sake, you're telling the truth. Because if you're using me in a political game of your own—

      He's targeting the Emperor's cousin, commander. You're under my command as of now. I'll sign the official papers as soon as my secretary processes them.

      Tayvis stalked from the office, every line of his body expressing his distaste and anger at the betrayal Nuella asked of him.

      Will he perform? Admiral Johnston asked after the door closed behind Tayvis. He's just as dangerous as Lowell.

      Not quite as dangerous. He still listens. See that he gets what he needs. And, Johnston, Nuella waited for the other man to stop shuffling papers, make certain those assigned to help Tayvis are loyal. To us. I don't know what game Lowell's playing but I'm not about to let him win.

      Commander Tayvis will be watched closely. With any luck, we'll bring them down together. Johnstone rose to his feet.

      Nuella smiled. That would be the best outcome, yes. But I'll settle for destroying Lowell and his network.

      Chapter 2

      The night air of Verrus was warm and thick with the perfume of night blooming flowers. I'd decided to walk, to enjoy the smell and to have a few moments alone.

      Not that I disliked my crew, quite the opposite. Jasyn was the sister I'd never had. Clark, her husband, was a close friend. Jerimon, Jasyn's brother, I could do without, but at least he no longer believed we were destined to be soulmates. That was the crew of the Phoenix Rising, my ship.

      I wanted time alone to nurse my bruised ego. I'd been registered with the Independent Traders Guild. I'd fought hard for that qualification. They'd ripped it away after the last mess I was involved in. They frowned on piracy charges, even if I was framed. I was kicked out, permanently.

      The letter, formally typed on thick paper and hand-delivered that morning, had ruined any hopes I might have entertained about my future with the Guild. Without their backing, few companies would hire me to haul their cargo. I could sign on with one of the Gypsy shipping companies, but that would mean giving up control and I couldn't let that go, not after I'd fought so hard for my freedom. I shoved my hands in my pockets and thought about possibilities. Lady Rina, Jasyn's something great aunt, would hire us. But I didn't like the strings she attached to her help.

      The streets were dark, even though it was still fairly early in the evening. I walked through a section of rich homes. On Verrus, they were walled compounds shutting out the rest of the world. Ornate doors and entryways were the only breaks in the high walls. I saw very few other pedestrians.

      My other option was even worse. I could accept Commander Grant Lowell's offer to work undercover for the Patrol. Technically, on paper, I did work for him. It simplified the legal questions about my involvement with Targon on Xqtl. He hadn't tried to enforce that paper. Yet.

      I wasn't paying much attention to where I was going or the people around me. Verrus was a peaceful place, with a very low crime rate.

      The stranger came from nowhere, darting out of a shadowed doorway to grab me. I reacted without thinking. I blocked his arm with my own while swinging my other arm around in a roundhouse blow that should have knocked him sideways and let me get free.

      He ducked, my fist just missing his ear. He grabbed my arm, but didn't attack the way I expected. He dragged me around until the moonlight showed my face. I was more puzzled than afraid. He wasn't trying to hurt me. He looked desperate. He wore a shipsuit, a plain gray with no ship patch or other identifier.

      You have to help me, he said, his inflection turning it to a question.

      Help you do what? I tried to pull my arm free. He clutched it tighter.

      I don't know, he answered, face twisting in frustration. I know your face. I don't know how or why.

      What ship are you from?

      Ship? He shook his head. His hand tightened on my sleeve. I don't know. I can't remember. There was something. He patted his pocket, hand trembling as he searched.

      I was running out of patience. I didn't want to get mixed up in someone's problems. I didn't want anything to disturb the peace I'd managed to find over the last three months despite my issues with the Guild. I wasn't going to get what I wanted.

      I know your face, he said, more frustrated and desperate than before. You're the only one I know to trust. And I can't explain why. He felt in his breast pocket. His expression changed to relief. This will help.

      He pulled his hand out and opened it. A delicate strand of gossamer gold drifted across his palm. Crushed and bent in his hand was a creature made of jewels. Paper thin wings that shimmered pearlescent blue and a tiny body of gold reflected the moonlight. I stopped pulling away. I recognized the jewelry, I had three cases of similar necklaces in my hold that I hadn't gotten around to selling yet. It fluttered, broken and bent but still so delicate it tried to dance on the slightest breeze.

      Payment of the debt is required, he said, in a voice not his own. I looked up sharply. He swayed, eyes half closed as if in a trance.

      What payment?

      Protect Jericho, he said in that strange voice. Seek the retreat of the Silver Lady.

      I heard footsteps approaching from around the corner. His eyes snapped open, he looked behind in panic. If there was more to his strange message, I wasn't going to hear it.

      I wanted to ask questions, I wanted to call the Patrol or the local police and have them deal with him. But I owed a debt, to the fluttery woman who had made those necklaces and given them to me for reasons of her own. I was unclear about why or exactly how I'd come to owe it but I didn't have time to ask questions.

      Three men came around the corner, dressed in black. Moonlight glinted off the muzzles of projectile guns. Run first, ask questions later, my mind said. I agreed. The stranger kept his hand twisted in my sleeve, tugging me into motion away from the men. I closed my hand over the winged creature as we broke into a run.

      A shot ricocheted off the wall next to me, gouging a hole in the plascrete. I dodged, pulling the man with me into the next street.

      Ornate doors were the only break in the smooth walls. Trees occasionally showed over the tops of the walls. They were too tall to jump and too smooth to climb. There was nowhere to hide, no cover, no convenient alleys. Our only chance was to run faster than the men chasing us, whoever they were.

      The stranger gasped, breathing hard, as if he'd already been running much too long. He slowed, limping with each step. This was my chance to leave, my chance to avoid being tangled in whatever problems he had. If people were chasing him and shooting at him, I didn't want to be involved.

      He slowed more, leaning on the smooth wall with one hand, holding himself up. Lines of pain shadowed his eyes. His dark hair was unkempt, looking as if he hadn't had it cut for a long time. He'd come to me, asking for help. I couldn't leave him with men shooting at him. I wouldn't be able to live with myself afterwards. My curiosity would drive me mad wanting to know who he was, why he had the necklace, and why he came to me. I had a thousand questions for him that would have to wait.

      We need to hide, unless you can make it to the port, I said.

      He looked blankly at me. He wasn't going to be able to run to the end of the street, let alone all the way to the port. I tugged him into a doorway deeper than most. I pushed him into the farthest corner. He sagged against the wall. His breathing whistled raggedly. His pursuers rounded the corner. I pressed back against the wall next to him. He made an effort to stifle his breathing.

      His pursuers moved slower as they searched. I felt behind me, my hands running over the intricate carving that covered the inside of the doorway, a wooden fantasy of trees hidden under the arch. The carvings were only a few inches deep. I squeezed back against the wall and tried thinking about invisibility.

      The stranger started crooning. His eyes were half closed. His hands lifted as if stretched by invisible bands. The crooning rose in pitch. The men hunting us took off running down the street, away from us. He leaned on the wall, his eyes closing. The lines of exhaustion in his face were deeper.

      I took his arm, intending to help him away from the wall. He collapsed against me. I reached for my com. I could call Jasyn, she was back at the ship. He stopped me, clutching my hand. His grip was powerful, strengthened by some great need. He locked his gaze on mine.

      Give, he whispered. His eyes changed, lost the bewildered look. They flashed silver in the moonlight.

      He drew energy from me, tingling from my hand into his. I pulled back reflexively. He kept his grip on my hand. He took a deep breath, straightening. I blinked away sudden dizziness as he let go of my hand.

      What did you do? I demanded.

      I watched the look in his eyes fade. He blinked, lost and confused again.

      We have to go. He peered around the doorway, looking for his pursuit. Desperation filled every move.

      Go where? I rubbed my hand.

      I don't know. He sagged against the wall in despair. I don't know, he repeated. He rubbed his face. I can't remember. It's all there, and I can't open it.

      He was crazy, I decided. But he had men with guns after him. They weren't shooting tranquilizer darts.

      My ship isn't far, I said. It's safe there.

      Nowhere is safe. But he followed me into the street.

      We hurried through the residential district until we reached the busier market district. He walked beside me as if he belonged there.

      I suppressed a shudder of premonition. It couldn't have been real premonition, I'm as psychic as a rock, at least on human scales. I'd been in enough trouble before, though, that I could smell it. This man reeked of trouble.

      What else could I do? I held the necklace in my hand, the edges of the wings digging into my palm. I wasn't going to get very involved, I promised myself. I'd keep him safe until I could contact Lowell. Let Lowell deal with him and his mysterious behavior. I'd let him go and be satisfied, even if I never learned who he really was or why he was running away. But what had he meant by saying he knew my face? Why had he come to me? Who had known I was here? Had someone planted him?

      I glanced at him, new suspicions forming in my mind. Was he really as helpless and desperate as he looked? I saw the strain in his face. He glanced at me, met my eyes. His were light brown, as scared and guileless as a child's.

      I looked away, my suspicions melting. Either he was the best actor I'd ever met, or he was really in trouble. The delicate necklace felt like a lump of lead in my hand.

      The gate to the landing field stood open. The guards on duty looked bored. They screened those entering and leaving, but not too closely. I was glad it wasn't a closed port where everyone who entered or exited had to have hand scans for identification.

      The man glanced behind us. I tugged his hand to get his attention. I shook my head, hoping he'd catch my warning. Act scared and people will be suspicious. Act normal and they tend to ignore you.

      The port guard looked me up and down. He consulted his handcomp. Captain Dace, of the Phoenix Rising. Who's he? He gestured at my companion.

      New hire, I said. The offices are closed. We'll register him in the morning.

      The guard's face grew a leering grin. Instead of kicking him where it would hurt, I mentally shrugged. If it got us through without further questions, let him think what he wanted.

      I'll be off in an hour, the guard said. You could have waited.

      You're not my type. I took the stranger's hand and pulled him after me onto the landing field.

      I waited until we were out of sight of the guards before dropping his hand. He was limping again.

      What's your name? I asked, as much because I wanted to know as to distract him. The ship was still a ways away.

      He stopped, staggering. His face became more confused. I can't remember. You don't know me, do you? I watched the last shreds of hope fade in his eyes. I saw you and knew I knew you. I hoped you would have answers for me.

      What can you remember? I took his hand again, tugging him into motion.

      Tonight. I remember the street where I found you. I can't remember anything else. His voice faded, rough and ragged with weariness. He stumbled into me. I reacted automatically, my arm going around his waist to catch him.

      Not much farther, I said as we wove our way to my ship. I hoped we looked like a couple of spacers that had drunk a bit much.

      He didn't say anything more. His face was pasty gray. He needed help and soon. I tried to go faster. He couldn't keep up, his limp more pronounced. I supported most of his weight, glad he was slender and only a few inches taller than me. Not slender, I realized as I shifted my arm. He was gaunt, I could feel his ribs under my hand.

      The hatch to my ship was open, soft light spilled out into the night. I heard Jasyn's laugh. Clark said something too low for me to catch. It sounded so normal, so peaceful. I hated to bring more trouble. I didn't have anywhere else to go with this nameless stranger. The necklace provided a connection I couldn't ignore.

      We stumbled up to the hatch. He tried to walk, tried to open his eyes. He had no reserves left. He sagged, his whole weight falling onto me as we crossed into the ship. I couldn't hold him. We sank to the floor.

      Jasyn sat at the table, her nail file suspended over one hand. Jerimon held a deck of cards half shuffled. Clark stood behind me in the galley. He calmly reached for the door controls and shut the hatch.

      They all looked at me, waiting for an explanation.

      He's our new engineer, I said.

      The man stirred. He looked up at me. Jericho, he whispered. Then passed out.

      Chapter 3

      I can't wait to hear your explanation for that statement, Jasyn said.

      I'm not sure I want to, Jerimon said. Can't you stay out of trouble for more than a few weeks, Dace?

      Clark knelt next to me and checked the man. Clark was the only one of us with any kind of medical training. I shifted the man's head off my lap onto the floor.

      What's his name? Jerimon asked as he dealt out a hand of solitaire.

      I don't have any idea, I answered.

      Is he really an engineer? Jasyn asked.

      I don't know.

      What do you know? She didn't sound very happy about the situation.

      Men were shooting at him. He said he knew me. And he showed me this. I reached for the necklace. It wasn't in my hand. It wasn't in a pocket. He had one of those butterfly necklaces, like the ones in the hold. I must have dropped it.

      Clark sat back. Help me get him into the med unit, he said to me.

      What are we going to do with him? Jasyn asked.

      I thought about sending Lowell a message, I said. Let him sort this out.

      That sounds too sensible for you, Dace. Jerimon winced when Jasyn kicked him under the table.

      We picked the man up and carried him into the end cabin where the med unit was located. Clark hooked it up and started it scanning. Jasyn leaned in the doorway, watching.

      If there were people shooting at him, Jerimon said, how long until they start shooting at us?

      We're leaving in the morning, Jasyn said. The only real question is whether we're taking him with us or not.

      Jerimon gathered his cards. You left out: What is his name? Who is he? Why is he being chased? Who's chasing him? And the biggest question: How did Dace manage to get mixed up in his problems?

      I owe him, Jerimon.

      You don't even know who he is, Jerimon objected.

      He had one of those necklaces. There's only one person he could have gotten it from. He claims he doesn't remember anything before tonight. He says he knows me but doesn't remember how or where. He's not familiar to me, at all.

      So, because he happened to own a piece of jewelry like the ones we were given, we're going to help him and most likely get ourselves into trouble doing it, Jerimon said.

      You're welcome to leave anytime, I said.

      Jasyn came to my defense. Dace is right. We owe an obligation to him. At least until he's recovered. How bad is he? she asked Clark.

      Mostly exhaustion and no food, Clark answered. He's got some older bruises and scrapes. Nothing serious. Give him time to sleep and something to eat.

      We still know nothing about him, Jerimon said.

      We can't call him hey you, Jasyn said.

      Call him Jericho, I said. He told me to seek the retreat of the silver lady. I have no clue what he meant by that. Or what Jericho might be.

      Life was too quiet for you? Clark asked, with a smile.

      I don't go borrowing trouble, or even looking for it.

      Fate, Jasyn said and shrugged. Lady Rina said your future was one of the strangest and most dangerous she'd ever seen. Jasyn took my hands and turned them palm up. The future in your hands.

      You don't really believe it, do you? I asked.

      She shrugged again, setting her long dark hair rippling over her shoulder. There are more mysteries hidden in the palm of your hand than could be explained in a lifetime. Those who know how can read the answers.

      You spent too much time talking with Lady Rina on Besht, Clark said. Dace was wise to keep her distance.

      Skeptic, Jasyn threw at her husband. Clark grinned.

      Lady Rina claimed she could read someone's future in their palms or in her cards, a gift Gypsies had been born with since before humans began to travel in space. Since that time was so distant in the past that it was legend, I wasn't sure how to believe what she said.

      Jasyn let my hands go. I rubbed my palms across my shipsuit. I still felt the tingling of whatever Jericho had done to me earlier.

      Are we headed for Landruss? Clark asked.

      We have a cargo, I answered. After that, who knows? We had taken over the regular route of one of the Gypsy Family ships while it was undergoing repairs. We did them a favor and they did us one by giving us work for a while. Landruss was the last leg of the trip before the Mary Sue returned to service.

      Clark glanced at his watch. The cargo will be here in about an hour. Middle of the night planet time meant little or nothing on a ship. We kept our own time. We're scheduled to leave at dawn.

      If we leave earlier, it will look suspicious, Jasyn said.

      She's corrupted both of you, Jerimon said.

      As she said, brother, Jasyn leaned over Jerimon, you can leave whenever you want. I haven't forgotten how much trouble you got us into with Targon.

      That wasn't my fault, it was Lowell's. And no one else will hire me. It was harsh, but it was the truth. He had a criminal record and a suspended pilot's license. Besides, I'd miss out on all the fun. Who's the silver lady?

      Jasyn sat at the table. Lady Rina might know. I'll have to ask her next time we swing by Besht.

      Clark went to fetch the cargo manifest. He'd taken over the role of cargo handler. He was good at it.

      Jerimon dealt out a two handed game. Jasyn picked up her cards.

      I went back in the end cabin and stood over Jericho. His face was strained, exhausted and hunted even in sleep. I guessed his age to be late twenties, possibly thirties. The variations between races were too great to tell any closer without more information. I wasn't likely to get much from him. He was an enigma. My curiosity was at full alert.

      Ghost, our cat, appeared from nowhere. She jumped to the bunk, lifting without effort. She sniffed at Jericho's face then settled down, curled up in the hollow of his neck. Ghost approved. It was stupid, but I felt better about bringing him onto the ship.

      I helped Clark shift cargo. The night air was pleasantly cool. I caught the faint scent of flowers on the breeze as I moved crates into the hold. I tried to keep watch while I worked. There was no sign of Jericho's attackers, no indication they knew he was on my ship.

      Maybe we would be able to slip away, I thought. Hope rises eternal.

      We strapped the cargo down and balanced the load. The sky overhead was just beginning to pale with the coming dawn when we finished.

      Jerimon was finishing up the preflight checks. Jasyn was working on a course. Clark put away the loose items in the lounge. I ducked into the engine room to run a last check on our flaky stabilizer. I had an assistant engineer's rating, which was why I was the one fixing the parts that broke. We were dodging rules not having a fully certified engineer on board. Without the Guild to back us, we had to find one soon or risk facing fines.

      We've got clearance, whenever we're ready, Jasyn said as I took the pilot's seat.

      We're secure, Clark said, taking the fourth chair in the cockpit.

      Let's go, I said and started the engine warming up.

      We let Jerimon fly, despite his suspended license. He was a very good pilot. As long as no one found out, it wasn't a problem.

      We were busy for the next hour as we got the ship off the ground and steered through the traffic around Verrus. Jasyn set the course for Landruss. The jump to hyperspace went smoothly. The ship flew well, despite the port stabilizer. We shut down the sublight drive and secured the controls.

      Jerimon yawned. Good night, he said and headed for his cabin.

      Clark and Jasyn headed for their cabin.

      I sat alone in the cockpit, thinking as I watched colored streaks of energy wash over the viewscreen.

      I swung my chair around and accessed the ship's library. I typed in silver lady and got exactly nothing back. I tried Jericho. There was a very brief entry regarding an ancient ruin. No one knew anything much about Jericho other than the name and a tumble of stones on a distant world. I knew nothing about the man Jericho lying in a bunk on my ship other than that he was desperate and he somehow knew my face.

      I tried a dozen other words and phrases before I gave up. Our library just didn't have the information I needed. I shut down the screen and checked the ship status again. It wasn't necessary for us to stand watch, usually we didn't. Old habits still made me nervous to leave the ship totally unattended in flight. I was Academy trained. The Patrol had a rule that no ship was ever in operation without at least one person in the cockpit in front of the controls. The Patrol wasn't flying freighters, though. Commercial rules were less strict. Everything was green.

      Our ship had four cabins to the right of the lounge, across from the hatch. Mine was the one right behind the cockpit. Clark and Jasyn shared the next one. Jerimon had taken the one behind that. The last one, the one closest to the small cargo bay, held the med unit and our mysterious passenger.

      I leaned in the doorway, watching him. The ship was dim, the lights turned to night levels. His face was shadowy. He was deeply asleep. The unit showed a steady heartbeat and breathing. Clark had set the alarm to let us know when he woke up, or when the rhythms changed. His eyelids flickered, his lips twitched in a dream.

      Jericho, he whispered in his sleep.

      I wish I knew what it meant, I whispered back.

      He didn't respond. I went to my cabin to sleep. Maybe when I woke up I'd have some answers. I wasn't counting on it.

      I dreamed about giant fish with human mouths. They were trying to tell me something, but the water distorted their voices until I couldn't understand them. I woke my usual morning self, which meant I was groggy and grumpy. I stumbled out of my cabin to find a drink, preferably hot.

      Jasyn was in the galley stirring something that smelled absolutely wonderful. We'd splurged on the ship, installing a complete galley so we didn't have to eat the freeze-dried dinners most spacers lived on. Jasyn loved to cook, and she was very good at it. Clark and Jerimon weren't bad, either. By unspoken agreement, none of them ever let me cook. I'd burn water.

      Jasyn handed me a steaming mug without comment. I plopped into a chair at the table and took a sip. Warmth spread through me, tasting of spices. I rolled the next sip over my tongue, trying to place the flavors. By the time I finished the mug, I was awake enough to be civil and still trying to figure out which spices Jasyn had used.

      I give up, I said, handing the mug back for more. What is it?

      I picked it up in the market on Verrus. Orange spice drink. They don't list the individual spices. She handed me the canister. Our guest woke up about half an hour ago. Clark's been talking to him.

      As if on cue, Clark and Jericho came out of the end cabin.

      Jericho had showered and wore one of Clark's shipsuits. It hung on him. He nodded shyly to Jasyn. His eyes fixed on my face. He stared, an intense searching look. I know you, but I can't remember where we met.

      What do you remember? I asked.

      He sat, lowering himself gingerly into a chair, as if afraid it would vanish if he sat too hard. I remember last night. Running in the dark. Finding you. Knowing I should I know you. Jasyn put a steaming mug in front of him. He wrapped long, narrow fingers around it. Thank you.

      You're welcome. Jasyn pulled bread rolls from the warmer. Her latest invention was a soft dough wrapped around various fillings. She put the plate on the table.

      Thank you, all of you, Jericho said. Where are we going? Where are you taking me and why? His eyes were full of questions.

      What's your name? I picked up a roll and bit into it. The filling this time was a sweet fruit mixture.

      He stared into his mug, as if hoping the answer would float up in the orange spice drink.

      What does Jericho mean? I asked.

      He twitched. His eyes went blank, gazing down at his mug. It's a code word. He shook his head in frustration. It's there, in my head. I can't get to it. I'm sorry.

      Eat something, Jasyn urged him.

      Clark hadn't waited, he was eating the rolls as fast as I was. Jasyn took three from the plate and handed them to Jericho.

      Save some for Jerimon, she scolded us.

      He sleeps late, he gets his own breakfast, I said through a mouthful of roll.

      These are the best yet, Clark said as he picked up another one.

      Jasyn ate one, leaning against the galley counter. We should have added more seating last time we rebuilt the ship. Maybe a couch over there. She waved at the far wall.

      The lounge was too small for any more seating. We'd changed out the table from one that seated four to one that could seat eight. We only had six chairs, though. There used to be a cushioned bench behind the cockpit. Jasyn had removed it when we remodeled the lounge. Nobody had objected. I carefully didn't look at the wall above the shelves that replaced it. The holes where Darien Harris had installed chains still showed. He was dead. Those nightmares wouldn't haunt me anymore, I wouldn't let them. The only problem was now we had nowhere to sit except at the table.

      If we moved the door to your cabin over, Jasyn mused, and moved ours the other way, we could squeeze in something between them.

      How about we open up one of the cabins, I said, shift it the other way. We could add a sitting area to the lounge. We'd lose one cabin, but we aren't using it anyway.

      We could move the cleaner, Clark suggested, getting into the spirit of the discussion. Put it in the end cabin.

      Since we'll probably never have a full crew, I said, we could lose those bunks. But then where would Ghost sit?

      The cat was up in her favorite perch, a ledge above the cleaner. She twitched her tail and squeezed her eyes shut in a catly affirmation of her superiority over us lowly humans.

      I could paint a new mural, Jasyn said, cocking her head to the side and studying the blank walls between the cabin doors. The wall behind her was covered with paintings. The fronts of the cabinets behind the cockpit were done with forest scenes, animals and plants borrowed from dozens of worlds in a landscape that could never exist in reality. Flower vines twined over the hatch. They opened into a waterfall that spilled down the wall. An ocean landscape filled the area around the galley. Colorful fish swam beneath the waves, while birds flew above.

      What this time? Clark asked. He leaned back in his chair, sipping the drink.

      The skies of Perlion, she said, with a smile. We'd managed to make a stop there, on that fabled playground of the very rich and influential. She and Clark had finagled a way to go sightseeing. It hadn't cost us anything, Lowell had paid us to deliver personal packages there. He couldn't justify

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