Sholpan Page 11

  After a few moments, they let go and let her lead them. With the two armed escorts, she made straight for her quarters. They assumed guard positions at the door, whether to protect her or to keep her inside, she didn’t know.

  The beads clattered as she slipped inside. Tamu glanced up from the bed.

  “Oh, it’s you, sweetie,” she said, jumping to the floor. “My, but you had a long night.” She winked and came forward, arms outstretched.

  “Tamu!” said Stella, giving her roommate a long hug. “Where are the others? What’s with the soldiers?”

  “Hush, dear,” said Tamu. “Don’t worry—you’re safe.”

  “But what’s going on?”

  “The whole ship’s been put into lockdown.”

  “Lockdown?”

  “Yes, dear. Haven’t you heard?”

  Stella gave her roommate a funny look.

  “Oh, silly me,” said Tamu. “Of course you haven’t.”

  “Heard what?”

  “The news.” She glanced through the bead curtain at the guards, then turned back to Stella.

  “Borta is dead.”

  Chapter 5

  The last time Stella and Lars had seen each other had been at the end of her first voyage with the McLellan family, almost seven months into her apprenticeship. After so much time away, the familiar sight of Kardunash IV—with its pristine mountains, wide blue oceans, and smooth glass domes—filled her with a strange sense of ennui, a tedious feeling of dissatisfaction at something so mundane and familiar. Here was a world she’d already seen before—where was the wonder in that? The realization that it was the primary world of her home star only made her feel guilty for wanting to start her next voyage as soon as possible. At least they weren’t going all the way to the Colony—the guilt from that would have been ten times worse.

  After pulling into the main station, Stella left the Kaja and wandered down the main thoroughfare away from the docks. The glowing orb of the planet shone through the giant skylight, illuminating the bustling concourse almost as well as the glowlamps running along the walls and ceiling. Hundreds of shops and restaurants were open for business, while the sound of running water dancing over stones lured a sizeable crowd to the orbital’s central park a short distance away. After breathing scrubbed, recycled oxygen for so long, the station’s air tasted crisp and fresh, and the wide open space around the concourse felt surprisingly liberating. Stella took a deep breath and smiled in satisfaction.

  A rumbling in her stomach convinced her to stop and get something to eat; she didn’t have anywhere else to be at the moment, so it seemed like a good plan. She stopped in at the first cafe that looked interesting: an Auriga Novan specialty gyro place, with glass mosaic tables and the ornate geometric woodwork so characteristic of that system. A chef in a white paper hat hastily shaved some meat from a giant vertical rotisserie, and the sweet aroma made Stella’s mouth water. She stepped inside and got in line behind the counter.

  As she surveyed the twenty some-odd patrons at the stools and tables, her eyes fell on a familiar face seated alone by the far window. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat: it was Lars.

  “Hello, miss. What’ll we have today?”

  Stella blinked and turned to the old man behind the register. He eyed her impatiently, eager to keep the line moving.

  “Uh, one beef gyro, no dressing, with extra pickled veggies on the side.”

  “Drink or fries?”

  “No thanks.”

  The register spat out a receipt, and the man tore it off and handed it to her. “Number three-thirty-four. Next!”

  Stella stepped awkwardly to the side, glancing over her shoulder to see if Lars had spotted her. He hadn’t; he was staring out the window, same as before. Her heart began to flutter nervously in her chest, and she wondered if it would be better for her to sneak out and eat her lunch elsewhere. Even as the thought came to her mind, she knew she wouldn’t do it.

  The server brought out her food a few moments later, and she took it and hesitantly approached Lars’s table by the window. He still didn’t see her; he seemed totally absorbed in his own thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to step forward and take the seat across from him.

  He turned and blinked in surprise. “Hello?”

  She smiled, trying to look as confident as possible. “Hi, Lars. Long time no see.”

  “Stella!” A grin spread across his face. “When did you get back in-system?”

  “Oh, not too long ago. What are you doing here?”

  His expression fell slightly, and he glanced out the window again. Stella’s stomach dropped, and she wondered if she’d said something wrong.

  “I’m leaving in a couple of days on the Bridgette with my father,” he said. “We’re making a run to New Rigel by way of Gaia Nova and the other Imperial worlds.”

  “Wow,” she said, lifting her gyro to take a bite. “So you’ve decided to get into merchanting?”

  He shrugged. “More or less.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “About when I dropped out of the academy.”

  Stella’s eyes widened, and she swallowed hard as she set down her dripping gyro. “Dropped out?”

  “Yeah—I didn’t get kicked out; it was my choice. It’s no big deal.”

  Something about the way he said it told her that that wasn’t the case.

  “But—but I thought you loved political science.”

  “I still do,” he said, sighing. “But politics—well, I might as well tell you. I took an internship at a think tank in Central Dome here on K-4, and it didn’t go well. My supervisor wanted me to twist the data to make the Planetary Unity party look good, and I wasn’t willing to do it. Long story short, he got the HR director to think I was a troublemaker, so I got fired three weeks early and flunked the seminar.”

  “Wow,” said Stella, wiping her mouth on her napkin. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be. Like I said, it’s not a big deal.”

  He glanced out the window again, and an awkward silence fell on them. Stella shifted nervously, trying to think of something to say.

  “Well, I think you’ll do well as a merchanter,” she said, hoping to console him. “Your father has a good reputation, and knows what he’s doing. Besides, maybe you need a break for a while.”

  “Yeah,” said Lars. “I certainly could use a break.”

  “It’s hard work, but it’s a lot of fun. I only went to Auriga Nova on my last voyage, but Gaia Nova and New Rigel—wow, you’re going to see so many new worlds! I wish I could go with you.”

  She blushed a little at her last statement. Seeing new worlds wasn’t the only reason she wished she could go with Lars.

  “You sound like you’ve been taking care of yourself,” he told her. “How has it been?”

  “Amazing!” she said. “Auriga Nova is such an incredible system—whole cities full of places just like this cafe, and that’s not even half of it. Only half the planetside population lives in the domes—the rest live on the open land, or in the giant airship cities that drift across the planet.”

  Lars raised an eyebrow. “Floating cities?”

  “Yeah, they used to house the atmospheric processors for the terraforming project almost a thousand years ago. But now that that’s over, they make excellent platforms for miniature arcologies. Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “Anyway, that’s just the fifth planet. All the inner worlds are barren, but they have some amazing stuff too. We spent most of the voyage making runs out to the mining outposts. A lot of them are run by Belarian refugees from the war, and they’ve got a really interesting culture. For example, did you know—”

  Lars chuckled, and her voice drifted off. “What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking. You don’t sound like you’ve changed at all—and yet, everything about you is completely different.”
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  Stella blushed again. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “I don’t know; it’s just different. You’ve still got that sense of wonder, but you seem a lot more independent at the same time. More than me, in fact.”

  “What?” she said, frowning. “What do you mean? You’re almost four standard years older than me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and look at what I’ve been doing with my life. Six years in the cloistered halls of the academy, sheltered from reality, and when I finally step out on my own for a change, I get burned and run back to my father for a job that people four years younger than me can do so much better.”

  Stella stared at him dumbfounded. She wanted to console him, but didn’t know what to say—or what she could say, without making it worse.

  He scooted his chair back and rose to his feet. “Well, I’d better be going. My father’s expecting me”

  “Wait!” she blurted. “When will I see you again?”

  “We should be back in about five months, just in time for Independence Day. We won’t be arriving until the week before, though, so we won’t make it out to the Colony.”

  The week before Independence Day—would Stella be back for that? Yes! Yes, she would!

  “My next voyage ends a couple of weeks before that,” she said, “so I’ll try to convince my Dad to bring us to K-4 for the celebrations.” It shouldn’t be too hard; he was always making local runs on the Llewellyn.

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Lars, smiling. “It was good to run into you. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too,” said Stella, heart yammering as she watched him go. “You too.”

  * * * * *

  “Borta is dead?”

  “That’s right, dear.”

  Stella lurched and collapsed onto the pile of pillows on the couch. A wave of dizziness passed through her, giving her a headache. Tamu slipped off the bed and sat down next to her.

  “What’s the matter?” Tamu asked, reaching out to rub her back. “You look awful, honey. Here, take a deep breath—that’s right. Relax.”

  Stella closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Her muscles unknotted and went limp under Tamu’s touch, releasing the tension in her body that Stella had started to take for granted.

  Borta is dead, Stella reflected. That means I’m safe. She isn’t going to kill me.

  But who killed her?

  Stella sat up and turned to face her roommate. “Tamu—what’s going on?”

  “No one knows, dear,” said Tamu. “Borta was found dead in her quarters sometime last night. A little after, the soldiers came and sent us all to our rooms. That’s all I know—all any of us know, really.”

  “How long ago did this happen?”

  Tamu hesitated for a second—only a second, but long enough for Stella to notice.

  “At least a couple hours ago, dear. Didn’t Qasar tell you?”

  “No,” Stella said carefully. “When I woke up, he was gone. He must have left while I was asleep.”

  “Slept in late, didn’t you? You must have had a busy night.”

  Stella sighed and shook her head. “I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

  “Are you sure, dear? Maybe you just don’t remember it. The pill—”

  “I didn’t take the pill.”

  Tamu frowned. “You didn’t?”

  “No.”

  Stella fell back against the pillows, her mind spinning in circles. “Borta’s dead,” she wondered aloud. “What happens now?”

  “Well, honey, I expect Qasar will find the traitor and execute him. That’s what they usually do to criminals.”

  “Execute him? Why? Don’t the Hameji have—”

  “Prisons?” Tamu said, completing her thought. “No, dear, Hameji ships have no prisons. Capital punishment is so much more efficient.”

  Stella shuddered and frowned. “But how are they going to find the murderer?” she asked. “Who would want Borta—”

  The answer came to her like an explosion. She bolted upright on the couch, her blood running cold.

  “Oh my stars,” she cried. “No!”

  “What is it, Sholpan? What’s the matter?”

  “Narju,” said Stella, leaping to her feet. “Where is he?”

  * * * * *

  Stella ran down the hall, her footsteps landing hard against the shaggy carpet floor. Lockdown had ended only a few moments ago, but she feared she was too late.

  She turned the corner and saw Engus walking briskly in the opposite direction. “Engus!” she called out, running after him.

  “Sholpan?” he said, turning around.

  Stella came to a stop in front of him and paused for a brief moment to catch her breath.

  “Where is Narju?”

  Engus gave an exasperated sigh. “Not know. Busy.” He turned and started to walk away.

  “No,” said Stella, blocking his way. “Show me. Now.”

  Engus’s cheeks turned red. He hurled a string of incomprehensible obscenities at her, but she didn’t budge.

  “Now. I command you.”

  He stared menacingly at her with his beady eyes. When he saw that she wouldn’t give in, however, his anger soon deflated. He shook his head and clucked his tongue.

  “No good. No good I show you. Not good.”

  “Engus,” said Stella, raising her voice. “Take me to him.”

  “No good,” he muttered, but without another argument he turned around and motioned for her to follow.

  He led her to the narrow hallway where the servants prepared the food. Two eunuchs at the counter watched them enter, but said nothing as they passed by. At the other side, they came to a door that she hadn’t noticed before. Engus punched a password into the access panel, and the door opened slowly, as if in dire need of maintenance. The shaggy carpet turned to hard industrial floor grating at the doorway. Cheap LEDs filled the corridor with a dark red light, making her feel slightly sick. The wall tiling had been stripped down long ago, no doubt recycled for use elsewhere.

  As Engus led her inside, they passed almost half a dozen eunuchs heading for the concubines’ quarters. The corridor was so narrow that they had to turn sideways each time, and still brushed against the passing men.

  “Do you live here?” Stella asked, shocked by how different the place felt.

  “Yes,” said Engus with a tone of annoyance. He turned a bend and stopped abruptly, almost making Stella run into him.

  “There,” he said. “Narju quarters.”

  Stella swallowed. About fifteen yards away, two black-armored guards stood watch at a door. The nearest of them glanced her way and tightened his grip on his rifle.

  “Thank you,” she said. Engus bowed and left.

  Stella drew in a breath and stepped forward, trying hard to conceal her fear.

  “Halt,” said the nearest guard. They crossed their rifles across the door to keep her from entering.

  “I’m here to see my personal servant,” she said in the Hameji tongue, precisely enunciating each word. “Let me in.”

  Both men stared at her in shock. That’s right, Stella thought smugly to herself. You didn’t think I could speak your language, did you? Think again.

  “We don’t have clearance,” said the guard on the right. Stella guessed he was the leader. She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “I am one of Qasar’s women. Let me in.”

  “Qasar has many women.”

  “And how many wives?”

  She lifted her hand and showed him the ring. The guard’s eyes nearly doubled in size.

  “A thousand apologies, milady.” He nodded to his comrade and they both stepped aside.

  It worked! Stella thought gleefully to herself. It actually worked!

  The head guard accessed the panel, and the door to Narju’s chambers hissed open. Stella started to step inside, but the guard on the left reached out his hand and stopped her.

  “Let us enter first. The prisone
r is dangerous.”

  “No,” Stella commanded. “Wait outside.”

  The guard didn’t move out of the way. Stella stared at him without flinching.

  “Very well,” he muttered, “but be careful.” With that, he stepped aside and held his rifle at the ready. She ignored him and entered, shutting the door behind her.

  Narju sat up on his cot, hands shackled in front of him. A large, purple-green bruise ran down the side of his face, and his hair was wet with blood. A few red specks had fallen on his clothes, staining his otherwise immaculate serving smock. In spite of all this, he smiled when he saw her.

  “Narju,” she cried, her face turning white as she ran up to him. “Narju, are you all right?”

  “Mistress Sholpan,” he said, opening his mouth as if to say more but failing to come up with the words. Stella gave him a quick hug, but his body felt stiff and unresponsive.

  Hameji ships have no prisons, Tamu’s words came to her. Capital punishment is so much more efficient.

  “It gives me joy to see you, Sholpan,” Narju said, his voice labored. “But why have you come?”

  “I’ve come to get you out of here.” She stood up and glanced hastily around the room.

  “Get me out?” A dumbfounded expression crossed his face.

  Stella hardly heard him. She flitted about, trying to find an alternate exit. The room was little larger than a closet, windowless, with one red LED light that gave the place an eerie glow. Except for a cot and two bins of servant’s clothes, Narju’s quarters were drab and empty.

  How could anyone live in this place? Stella wondered to herself. And I thought I had it bad.

  “I am sorry, Mistress Sholpan,” said Narju, rising painfully to his feet. “I cannot go.”

  “Of course you can,” said Stella, still distracted with thoughts of escape. “I’m breaking you out right now.”

  Maybe if they exchanged clothes, Narju could slip past the guards and find a place to hide. But he was so tall—would the disguise work? And besides, how could she hide his wounds? Stella wished she’d worn a headscarf—that would have made things a lot easier.