Skolian Empire: The Radiant Seas Part 5

Deactivated, his web answered.

They left the office, two bodyguards in front, followed by Tikal, Eldrinson and Roca, Althor, then Kurj and the Jagernaut with the cyberlock keys, then the last two guards. The maglift took them down two hundred stories, to the skyneedle's third level, and let them out into a foyer. Across the room, beyond fortified doors, history waited for them.

Tikal glanced at Kurj. "We have to activate the locks now."

Kurj nodded and turned to the guard with him, a Jagernaut Primary, one of only fifteen officers in all of ISC who had achieved that rank.

Activate, Kurj thought.

Yes, sir, the Primary answered, his thought strong and well-formed but with less power than Kurj's mental thunder. He lifted his right arm, a cybernetic construct all the way to his elbow, and brushed his natural left finger over his cybernetic palm. Red light glowed as a laser in his machine-hand read the diffraction pattern produced by his fingerprint. It was Kurj who had specified what patterns the picoweb in the Primary's hand would accept, sending the data to his arm via IR and locking it so even the Primary himself had no access to it.

The Primary's picoweb verified his ident.i.ty, and a panel in his right hand slid open, revealing four wafers.

"No." Eldrinson stiffened. "Not mine."

Councilor Tikal spoke to Eldrinson with a respect that irritated Kurj. "Lord Valdoria, we appreciate the danger inherent to you in the cyberlock. Please be a.s.sured we will use the utmost care."

"You only need one field," Eldrinson said. "It can surround us all. It isn't necessary to turn on all four."

"I understand your reluctance," Tikal said. "But with both you and Imperator Skolia appearing in public together, we feel extra precautions are necessary."

Eldrinson exhaled. But he nodded, his face pale. "All right. Proceed."

Kurj wondered if Eldrinson actually believed he had the authority to forbid the procedure. They would activate the cyberlock regardless. Still, given his stepfather's condition, it was better to have his cooperation.

The Primary slid the wafers into a slot on his belt. Kurj felt a familiar disorientation as the cyberlock field activated and spread out from his brain. Althor frowned but otherwise gave no indication he noticed. Their mother paled, reaching for the arm of her bodyguard, Jagernaut Secondary Ko, a husky woman who stood like a rock.

When Eldrinson drew in a breath, everyone froze. He made no other sound, just stood still.

"Lord Valdoria?" Tikal asked. "Are you all right?"

Eldrinson started to answer, then stopped, a blank look dropping across his face.

"Eldri, no!" As Roca grabbed her husband's arm, Althor took a lunging step-and caught his father as he collapsed. Althor laid him on the floor, on his back, while Roca knelt at his head. Secondary Ko knelt on Eldrinson's other side and laid a medical patch on the inside of his arm.

"His face is turning blue!" Tikal said.

"It's all right," Roca said. "It happens this way."

Although his mother's voice was calm, Kurj felt her fear. He suspected Althor also picked it up, but he doubted anyone else did, even the empathic Jagernauts. His mother hid her emotions almost as well as he.

Secondary Ko continued to monitor Eldrinson while Roca smoothed her husband's forehead. The rest of their party stood silent, unsure whether or not the crisis had pa.s.sed.

Then Eldrinson began to convulse.

His entire body went rigid. Then he spasmed back and forth, his muscles clenched, his entire body jerking like a doll shaken hard by a giant hand, the motions so violent they looked as if they would tear him apart. With a dismay that startled him as much as the convulsion itself, Kurj realized he was seeing a grand mal seizure, a generalized tonic-clonic attack.

Secondary Ko spoke. "Everyone, step back please."

As Kurj and the others moved away, Althor turned his father on his side, his tender motions incongruous with his intimidating size. Ko continued to monitor Eldrinson. Roca made no attempt to touch him, other than to ensure he didn't choke.

Kurj was stunned by the depth of his fear for his stepfather. Med had warned him that Eldrinson's grief could make him more susceptible to seizures, so Kurj had ordered extra precautions. ISC always made sure his stepfather had the best available medical treatment, but this morning they had taken him to Med for additional care, precisely to prevent an incident like this.

Seeing Eldrinson convulse, seeing that frightening loss of control in his stepfather's body, Kurj felt a surge of protective instincts, followed by another sensation, one harder to define, as if a hole opened inside him. A memory came then, one he had buried but never forgotten; he was six years old, playing with his stuffed animals. His mother came to him with tears on her face and took him in her lap, cradling him in her arms, her voice broken as she spoke the words, those impossible words. Gone. His father was gone. Dead. Lost in an accident ...

Eldrinson suddenly went limp. Roca exhaled and Althor closed his eyes, then opened them again. Secondary Ko's relief showed in the subtle easing of her posture. As Eldrinson's face took on a more normal color, Roca drew his head onto her knees, murmuring to the unconscious man.

"He'll be all right," Ko said. "He just needs sleep."

Roca turned a withering gaze on Tikal. "Are you satisfied with your 'protections'?"

He spoke quietly. "I am truly and deeply sorry, Councilor Roca. I wish there was another way. But better to risk what just happened than his a.s.sa.s.sination."

Roca's shoulders slumped. She turned back to Eldrinson, murmuring comfort he couldn't hear. Watching them, Kurj felt awkward, as if he intruded on a private moment. Eldrinson rarely spoke of his epilepsy, except to those closest to him, which had never included his stepson.

But Kurj had made it his business to learn about his stepfather's condition. If neurons in Eldrinson's brain became overstimulated, they sent out an abnormal flood of electrical discharges, causing a seizure. Had Eldrinson been other than a Rhon psion, his doctors could probably have cured him. But in Eldrinson that cure would also destroy the magnificent paras that made him such a gifted telepath. Now, with the medical care he received, he lived a normal life for the most part. The only times Kurj had seen him have trouble was when he was under extreme stress.

Eldrinson opened his eyes and looked at his wife. "Roca?"

"It's all right," she murmured. "You're fine. Just fine."

"Where-?"

She stroked his forehead. "The ceremony. At the pavilion."

"Oh. Yes. Of course." He sat up, rubbing his eyes, his motions disjointed and fatigued.

Kurj knelt next to Eldrinson and spoke in what, for him, was a gentle voice. "You need not attend the Investment. The guards can take you back to the palace."

His stepfather regarded him. "I am fine."

"What if you can't make it through the ceremony?" From what Kurj understood, Eldrinson often slept after a seizure.

"It won't be a problem," Eldrinson said.

Roca laid her hand on his arm. "Perhaps you should go back, Eldri. You look exhausted."

His face gentled. "I'm fine. Really." Turning to Secondary Ko, he said, "Give me a stimulant.

Ko glanced at Kurj, who shook his head. He had no intention of endangering Eldrinson with drugs that might have side effects.

As Kurj stood up, dwarfing everyone else in the foyer, Roca frowned at Secondary Ko. "Give him the stimulant," she said.

The Jagernaut bit her lip, an odd gesture from the usually placid warrior. Kurj understood her dilemma. She couldn't disobey his orders, but by refusing Roca and Eldrinson, she antagonized another branch of the Imperialate's complicated power structure.

With Althor's help, Eldrinson stood up. He rubbed his hand across his eyes and swayed, then regained his balance. Taking a breath, he turned to First Councilor Tikal. "Shall we proceed?"

Kurj almost swore. Eldrinson intended to go through with the ceremony? Without help to ensure no further incidents occurred while they were on display before the public? Was the man hammerheaded?

Stop it, his mother thought.

Her voice came into his mind, cool and guarded. Private. This communication was only for him. She stood watching him while everyone else spoke in quiet tones, arranging what to do if Eldrinson showed signs of a collapse during the ceremony.

He needs rest, Kurj thought to his mother.

He needs to be with his family. Lines of strain showed on her face. Especially now, Kurj. We all need each other.

Kurj regarded her, knowing his anger at Eldrinson masked his fear for his stepfather. Then he turned to Secondary Ko. "Give him the stimulant."

Ko nodded, relief was.h.i.+ng out from her mind. She unhooked an air syringe from her belt and gave Eldrinson a shot, then examined the medical patch inside his elbow. She ran her finger along an edge of the patch, and the silver square became flesh-colored, hiding itself.

Councilor Tikal motioned toward the safe door across the foyer, as if inviting them to dinner. A guard entered security codes into a control panel by the doors, and lights played across everyone's eyes and hands, verifying retinal and fingerprint patterns. Then the doors rolled back to reveal an ornate pair of portals with huge gold handles.

When the guards hefted open the doors, harsh Dieshan sunlight poured into the foyer-along with the murmuring from a sea of people. The crowd's antic.i.p.ation beat against Kurj's mind like ocean breakers. His mother turned her head, as if that could block the empathic onslaught. Althor remained impa.s.sive, but his posture stiffened and Kurj's internal monitors registered a rise in his brother's heart rate.

Outside, a pavilion extended in a semicircular stage. Kurj couldn't see the crowd; the stage cut off the front part of his view, and a banner hanging along the top of the doorway here masked more distant areas. Dignitaries were already out on the pavilion, aglitter in the blazing sunlight, diplomats in gaudy ceremonial dress and military officers in uniform, replete with medals and ribbons. They made a striking contrast to Kurj's group with its somber hues, except for Althor's radiant figure.

Althor had asked permission to wear black, in deference to his sister, but Kurj refused his request. ISC needed a hero now, and Althor, with his powerful physique, strong-jawed good looks, and gold skin, fit the role perfectly. Kurj wore black to accent Althor's appearance rather than put his mourning on display. Although he appreciated Althor's request, for him color made no difference. It wouldn't make Soz live again. Dark colors hardly touched the depths of the loss he felt.

Councilor Tikal's palmtop chimed. He flicked his finger over it and Jak's voice came into the air. "We're all set, sir."

"All right," Tikal said. Then he walked out onto the pavilion, flanked by two bodyguards.

The hum of the crowd swelled into applause: clapping, ringing bells, shouts, the eerie birdcalls of Dieshan natives. As the roar swept into the foyer, both Roca and Eldrinson blanched. Althor maintained his impa.s.sive demeanor, but Kurj felt his brother's unease. Few empaths liked crowds. To the Rhon, having so many minds focused on them was excruciating.

With his guards, Tikal went to a podium near the front of the pavilion. The only hint of the extensive security systems focused on him was a faint distortion in the air. The crowd fell silent when he began his speech. They listened to his eulogy for Sauscony and cheered when he spoke of her sacrifice "to rid the stars of the scourge known as the Highton Heir." Kurj found it melodramatic, but it had the desired effect, stirring up the crowd.

Jak's voice came out of Kurj's gauntlet. "Imperator Skolia, we're set for the entrance."

"Very well." Kurj glanced around at his family. "Let's go."

Their guards went first and stood to the side of the door-way like sentries presaging their appearance. Roca and Eldrinson walked out next, followed by Kurj and Althor, all of them surrounded by the rainbow s.h.i.+mmer that marked a cyberlock field on lethal. Integrated with their brains, the locks knew who and what to protect, their four fields combined into one superfield.

Breezes ruffled their hair. The harsh sun, small and white, pierced a sky turned pale red by dust and the reflection of the red deserts that covered so much of the planet. Diesha had been made livable by ISC biosculptors, those gentler cousins of terraformers. They augmented the atmosphere until humans could breathe it, seeded the barren surface with primitive life, and fine-tuned the biosphere until it became more welcoming to Earth's children.

Holovid cameras followed the Ruby Dynasty, recording the ceremony for viewers throughout three civilizations. The news would be transmitted by every method available: stars.h.i.+ps, electro-optic webs, nanowebs, picowebs, the psiberweb, and even radio.

Finally Kurj saw the crowd that waited for them. People overflowed the city. They filled the quadrangle before the stage in a turbulent sea, clogged every street leading to it, lapped up on buildings and walls. As the Ruby Dynasty appeared, a tidal wave of applause and shouts surged forth, swamping the pavilion with its thunder until the stage shook. As soldiers ran to reinforce the supports, the roar rose even higher, made voiceless by the uncounted voices within it. Eldrinson and Roca froze, staring at the crowd, and Althor paled. Even Kurj was unprepared for the intensity of the response. Was the public truly this starved for a sight of the reclusive Imperial family, a dynasty that, technically, didn't even rule anymore?

Kurj spoke into his comm. "Jak, can security cover this?"

"Yes," Jak answered. "If they lose control, retreat into the foyer. It's a veritable fortress. We also have mag-copters up, which could lift you out if necessary, snipers on the skyneedle, and lasers with EI brains scanning the crowd."

"Good." Kurj nodded to his family to continue. They walked forward, the wind blowing their hair, and stopped by Tikal's podium. The crowd kept applauding, shouting to them. Realizing what they wanted, Kurj motioned to Althor. His half brother swallowed, but he did as Kurj ordered and walked to the edge of the stage. Hands resting on the rail, he looked out at the people who had come to see him.

The roar surged again. People rushed the stage, struggling with the soldiers and robot sentinels. Elastic quasis fields gave under the pressure, then snapped the trespa.s.sers back into the crowd. A girl screamed for Althor, extending her arms, and a youth standing on a wall was knocked off into the surging crowd. Althor stood frozen, staring at the scene. Kurj felt Althor's dismay but didn't motion him back. His brother looked the way ISC needed him to look, like a radiant hero come to defend the empire.

It took a long time, but the roar finally faded, ebbed, subsided, and became a murmur. In a low voice, Kurj spoke into his gauntlet. "I'm going up now."

"We're covering you," Jak said.

As Kurj walked to the podium, the crowd waited in silence. He deplored public speaking, which was why he almost never did it, but today a few words were required. h.e.l.l, just giving all of Althor's t.i.tles was a speech. Kurj preferred only one t.i.tle. Imperator.

He raised his arm to Althor and spoke. As loudspeakers picked up his words, they rumbled out over the crowd. "I give you Prince Althor Izam-Na Valdoria kya Skolia, Warrior Secondary, Im'Rhon to the Rhon of the Skolias, First Heir to the Imperator, Fifth Heir to the throne of the Ruby Dynasty, once removed from the line of Pharaoh, born of the Rhon, Eighth Heir to the Web Key, Sixth Heir to the a.s.sembly Key." He lowered his arm. "Today I Invest Althor Valdoria as my successor. From this day on, he will be the Imperial Heir."

And the people thundered their approval, for the hope an avenging angel offered against the unending brutality of a war that ground them down, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, until they had no defense except the symbolism they craved from the dynasty of a long vanished empire.

4.

Emperor U'jjr Qox, called Ur c.o.x by those who found the Eubian accent difficult, was a gaunt man. Tall and lean, he maintained his health well. At sixty-six years of age, life had added few lines to his face.

Until three months ago.

Hands clasped behind his back, he stood in a bare room with glossy white walls and watched the scene played out on his wall screen: Kurj Skolia, declaring his heir. Ur Qox clenched his fist. He too had named an heir. Jaibriol II. His son. The man the Ruby Dynasty had killed.

Ur had named his son after his father, Jaibriol I. The elder Jaibriol had been pure Highton, in mind, in appearance, and in his Aristo perfection. But Ur Qox's mother had been a slave.

You tainted my blood, Ur thought to his father's memory. You made me less than perfect. But he understood the necessity. His father had selected his mother for her genetics. And she gave him what he required, a son who carried every mutated gene needed to make a Rhon psion. That those genes were recessive meant Ur Qox manifested none of their traits. He was neither empath nor telepath.

In secret, Qox had continued his father's work, combining forbidden genetic research with the hunt for a slave who could provide the genes he required. And he found her. He paired Camyllia's Rhon genes with his and she gave him a Rhon son. Jaibriol.

All those years, his hopes, his pride in his son, the great sacrifice of contaminating the Qox bloodline-it all came to nothing. Jaibriol would never follow him as emperor.

Ur tried to find consolation. Jaibriol no longer suffered having to hide his Rhon nature. Ur Qox himself had never had trouble with that game of deception. He thrived, in fact, a better Aristo than true Aristos, with their inbred bloodlines. The recessive nature of Rhon genes allowed him to reap the benefits of genetic diversity without the weakness of being an actual psion. Of course no one knew his mother had been a provider. A pleasure slave.

Providers were rare. Those chosen few, whose sweet suffering provided transcendence for their Aristo masters, had to be psions. Ninety-nine percent of the Eubian population were taskmakers, the backbone of civilization. All slaves, of course. They needed owners. Aristos took better care of their slaves than the slaves could themselves. Qox had long ago tired of the hysterical Skolian cries about the so-called sadism of Eube. In their fevered raving, Skolians neglected to mention that Eubian slaves had a higher standard of living, on average, than Skolians. Giving them freedom would only frighten and disorient them.

And of course the Ruby Dynasty objected. They themselves were providers without owners.h.i.+p. The ultimate slaves. They had to be controlled before they destroyed the sublime beauty of the universe the Aristos sought to create.

As they had destroyed his son.

Qox waved his hand. The wall became transparent, letting him gaze out over Upper Qoxire, the city below and beyond the palace, a lofty metropolis of spires and alabaster. Upper Qoxire graced this biosculpted planet called "Eube's Glory," so named for Ur's grandfather, Eube Qox, who had founded the Eubian Concord and designated Glory as its capital world.

A scene of deceptive serenity greeted him, a sunny afternoon of clear air and clear skies. Still a young planet, Glory had a short day, only sixteen hours. She claimed fourteen moons, most of them small, but several of substantial size. Mirella hung in the east, almost full. Named for the first empress, the moon appeared huge in the sky, the size of a giant gem. Eube Qox had ordered her surface altered so it glittered like carnelian. Two tiny moons shared her orbit, one sixty degrees ahead and one sixty degrees behind, each named for a handmaiden of Ix Quellia, the ancient moon G.o.ddess of Qox's ancestors.

Mirella caused the major portion of the huge tides that battered Glory. But she wasn't the largest moon. That honor went to Zara, named for the wife of the second emperor, Jaibriol I, who took his sister Zara as his empress. Zara was four times farther from Glory than Mirella, yet appeared more than half Mirella's size in the sky and raised respectable tides. Jaibriol I had sheened the moon gold. She made a gilded crescent now, high in the west.

Viquara, the third largest moon, shone half full in the east. Although she was only about forty percent the size of Mirella in the sky, Viquara was the most agile of the three empress moons, orbiting Glory faster than the planet rotated. So Viquara rose in the west and set in the east. She glittered like diamond, an effect Ur Qox's wife had requested when he named the moon after her.

The dim crescent of Glory's fourth largest moon hung above the far, far horizon. G4. The Unnamed Moon. The choice of what name to bestow on G4 had belonged to Qox's heir, Jaibriol II.