Diamond Star

by Catherine Asaro

  But I can, Del thought.

  So you claim. Staver didn't say more, though. They might wonder if Del really had the funds, but if their background checks had found anything they considered suspicious about him, this exchange would never have taken place.

  Del hid his Skolian identity from Staver with defenses he had spent a lifetime learning to build. He could tell Staver believed him to be Del Arden of Earth. Had Staver known the truth about Del, he might have shielded that knowledge from a less powerful psion, but concealing it from Del was impossible when Del lowered his barriers. He would sense the conflict in Staver's mind.

  I'll let you know, Del thought. He hadn't finished checking out Staver. Be careful. Tarex might use the provider to trap you.

  Any help you can give would be greatly appreciated, Staver said. And believe me, I'll stay clear of Tarex.

  Good. Del raised his barriers, strained by their link, and his sense of Staver faded. When he glanced at Tyra, she nodded, letting him know she had followed the exchange.

  The room's AI said, "Ricki Varento is here."

  "Let her in," Del said.

  As soon as the door opened, Ricki came over to Del. She spared a puzzled glance for Staver, but didn't ask him to leave.

  "How upset is Zachary?" Del asked.

  "Keyed up and beyond." Ricki sat on the bed. "He told Tarex that touring had worn you out." She looked ready to punch someone. "Tarex didn't care, not after I told him what you said about his 'magnificence.' He reacted exactly like you predicted. Asshole."

  Del grimaced. "That's probably what Zachary thinks about me."

  "He's not happy." She glanced at Staver. "Do you have a bodyguard here?"

  He shook his head. "I had no reason to think I'd need one."

  Tyra came over to them. "Staver, you can't leave by yourself. Tarex knows about you."

  Ricki gave her an incredulous look. "Tarex wouldn't threaten a major exec from one of the most powerful Skolian conglomerates."

  "For a psion as strong as Staver?" Del spoke grimly. "Tarex would probably consider him worth anything." The Aristo probably thought Staver had a higher Kyle rating than Del. Although Staver's personal info wasn't public, it would be far easier to find than Del's ISC-controlled records.

  Del doubted Tarex realized Tyra was a psion. Although strong, her mind was less powerful than what the Aristo would sense from Del or Staver. More important, as a Jagernaut she had the most in-depth psi training ISC offered. She could pick up strategies from Tarex without giving herself away, and she would recognize anyone with enough Aristo heritage to endanger an empath. She was also a human weapon; with her augmented strength and speed, and internal mesh systems, she could probably outfight even the best of Tarex's guards. Which was great for Del, but didn't help Staver.

  "Staver needs a permanent bodyguard," Del told Ricki.

  "I'll take care of it." She turned to Staver. "We've plenty of rooms here. You can stay. Or my people can escort you home."

  "Why would you do all this for me?" Staver asked.

  She tilted her head toward Del. "He says it's important. I trust his judgment."

  "I'd like to leave, then." Staver spoke quietly. "And thank you."

  Ricki nodded to him, then glanced at Del. "Would you like to go upstairs? The suite there is yours tonight if you want it."

  Del knew she was offering him a cover story in case anyone wondered why he disappeared at his own party. If he withdrew with a "friend" to Prime-Nova's love nest, it wouldn't raise eyebrows. Knowing Ricki's crowd, no one would even wonder why Tyra and Cameron went with them. They would assume—well, he didn't want to imagine what they would assume.

  He managed a wan smile. "Come with me?"

  "Sure, babe." She took his hand. "Will you be all right?"

  "I'll be great."

  It wasn't true. He still had to talk to Kelric. He was here only on the sufferance of his brother and General McLane; no matter how much he resented it, they controlled his life. Despite what Kelric believed, Del had no intention of damaging relations between his people and the Allieds, which meant if Kelric ordered him home, Del would leave. Everything he had achieved would be over, and he would return to a life he couldn't bear.

  XXII: Headliner

  The comm message came from Philip Chandler, the doctor who had checked Del after his first convulsion: Mister Arden, please contact me as soon as possible.

  Del stood at the console in his apartment and listened to the message three times. It didn't improve with repetition. Nearly a year had passed since he had seen Chandler, and he had forgotten about the doctor's concerns. Since the party a few days ago, Del's main worry had been avoiding Tarex and any deals he might offer Prime-Nova.

  Jud was leaning against the wall. "What do you think it is?"

  "I don't know." In Del's experience, when a doctor commed you with no warning, it meant trouble. "Maybe I shouldn't call back."

  "Yeah, right," Jud said. "And maybe you should go jump off the Star Tower, too."

  Del scowled at him. "Ha, ha."

  "Comm him."

  Del gritted his teeth, but he did sit at the console. "Claude, can you put me through to Doctor Chandler?"

  "Yes. One moment, please."

  "I'll just get his AI," Del told Jud. Doctors never responded in person. "I'll leave a message." Then he could put the whole thing out of his mind.

  "I have his office," Claude said.

  "Del Arden?" a man asked. "Is that you?"

  Damn. That was no AI. "Hi, Doctor Chandler. Yes, it's me."

  "Can we go visual?" Chandler asked.

  "Sure." As Del spoke, his screen cleared to show Philip Chandler seated at what looked like an oakwood console.

  "Thanks for getting back to me so soon," Chandler said. "I was worried."

  That wasn't what Del wanted to hear. "What's wrong?"

  "I've been in contact with the Skolian Embassy in D.C.," he said. "It took a lot of back and forth, but I've finally spoken with a Skolian expert on the neuroscience of empaths. From what she told me, it sounds like that convulsion you suffered may have been more serious than our tests showed."

  Del wanted to push away the words. "I'm fine, Doctor Chandler. Really. I haven't had any problems."

  Although the physician looked sympathetic, he didn't relent. "A psion's brain produces specialized neurotransmitters. The higher your Kyle rating, the more you produce. In a live show, your brain goes into overdrive trying to deal with the empathic input from your audience and releases an excess of the Kyle transmitters. Too many of your neurons fire at once. If it overloads your brain, you have a convulsion. I didn't register anything when I tested you because my equipment can't detect Kyle-active transmitters."

  As much as Del wanted to deny it, that fit too well with what he knew about his father's convulsions. "I do feel wound up, especially after a big show," he admitted. "But I can relax by spending time in a virt. Since I started doing that, I haven't had any problems."

  "A virt suit shouldn't affect your neurons," Chandler said.

  Del regarded him guiltily. "I don't use a suit. My setup has a direct brain interface."

  Chandler stiffened. "I assume you have a license for it."

  "Yes." Del had insisted. He knew that among his people, any system that acted directly on a psion's brain required a long application procedure and came with many restrictions. Casper, the man who had sold him the bliss-node, had required nothing. He simply gave Del the license—at a huge price. Del hadn't asked for details, legal or otherwise, but he had the paperwork.

  "It isn't a good idea to use a virt that way," Chandler said. "It interferes with the way your neurons fire. Yes, it can calm down those overloaded cells, but it could make the problem worse if you aren't careful. You can also become dependent on it, just like anything else that affects brain chemistry."

  Del wiped his sweating palms on his jeans. "I can stop any time I want." He wanted it to be true. Yet even now he longed to sink into the node's
merciful oblivion.

  "Are you on tour now?" Chandler asked.

  "Well, no."

  "Are you using the node?"

  Del stared at him, unwilling to answer. He used it every day, sometimes for hours.

  Chandler spoke quietly. "Del, I'd like you to come into my office at the Johns Hopkins Medical Center for more tests."

  "I'm fine. I don't need more tests."

  "I think you should," Chandler said. "Methods exist to help you deal with performing in front of all those people. But we need to monitor the procedures. If you try to do it yourself, you could end up with brain damage."

  Del felt trapped. His lengthy time in cryo had affected his brain. His memories had been intact, but he had needed to relearn everything that required motion. He had barely been able to talk, let alone feed himself, dress, or walk. It had taken years to struggle back. The idea that he could damage himself like that using the bliss-node was more upsetting than he could endure. But he couldn't bear the thought of losing the bliss, either.

  "I'll check my schedule," Del said. "See what we can do."

  Chandler looked relieved. "Great. Get back to me soon."

  "I will. Thanks for following up."

  "I'm just sorry it took so long. The Skolians are secretive about this whole Kyle business."

  "I guess so." Del made himself smile. "Talk to you soon."

  After they signed off, Del stood up and paused uncertainly in front of the console.

  "You're going to blow him off, aren't you?" Jud said.

  Del looked around. "Damn it, I hate the way you're always eavesdropping."

  Jud hadn't moved from his place by the wall. "You spend hours every day in the bliss, Del. You're addicted. Strung out on virt."

  "That's stupid. You can't be addicted to a simulation."

  "Like hell." Jud uncrossed his arms. "Del, please, listen to him. You can't play roulette with your brain."

  Del wanted him to get lost. He wanted to forget Chandler had ever called. But more than anything else, he wanted to use the bliss-node. And that scared him.

  "When I was young," Del said, "I knew some guys on Metropoli who used vampers, those neuro-psillic amphetamines that slam straight into your brain." He still struggled with the memory. "They both died from overdoses within a few years after I went into cryo. Except they weren't Ruby princes. So no one saved them."

  Jud spoke quietly. "And that makes you angry?"

  Del sat at the console, feeling as if he weighed too much. "I had no more right to live than they did. I need to believe I survived for a reason. But I don't see one."

  "For your music."

  "Yeah, right." He looked up at Jud. "And don't give me that 'Del, you're an artist' crap. I've heard it." He thought of what Eldrin had said two nights ago when Del had talked to him during the party. What, singing like that? You don't have to do it. "No matter how you spin it, what I do isn't important."

  Jud looked ready to sock someone. "You've been talking to your family again, haven't you?"

  "Just leave it."

  "You think running away in a bliss-node will fix it?" Jud punched at the air. "That's not the solution! It's not real."

  "I don't care."

  "I do."

  Del stood up and spoke coldly. "I never asked you to. I just want you to leave me alone."

  "Yeah, well, listen, you stupid asshole. I'm not going to leave you alone no matter how hard you push me away." Jud glared at him. "You got that?"

  "Call me a stupid asshole again," Del said, "and I'll—" He ran out of steam. He would what? "I'll stop cleaning up around here."

  Jud looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or throw up his hands. "God help me. What other dire fates do you have planned?"

  Del couldn't help but smile. "Give me time. I'll think of something terrible."

  "Del, listen," Jud said. "Think of all the time you waste in the bliss. You haven't written any new songs since Starlight. What about "Carnelians?" We were doing great work on both versions. You haven't rehearsed either for months."

  Del shifted his weight. "Mac doesn't want me to do that one."

  "Mac isn't your keeper." Jud came over to him. "Do you really want the bliss to take over your life?"

  Del felt as if he had run into a wall. "Nothing should stop the music. Never."

  "Go talk to Chandler. What could it hurt?"

  "He'll tell me to stop touring."

  "That's not what he said. He claims treatments exist." Jud paused. "You're going to visit Lyshriol next week, right? Will you use the bliss-node there?"

  Del had intended to bring the whole setup. Now he realized he probably couldn't get it through customs. He saw then how bizarre it was that he wanted to bring a virt to simulate his home while he was at home.

  "I don't know." Del felt overwhelmed. "I'll stop using it, Jud. Really."

  "Can you?"

  "Sure." Del almost said, I'll just do one last session. But he didn't tell Jud. He could do it later, when Jud didn't know.

  Just one last time. Then he would stop.

  Two days later, Mac told Del the results of his check on Staver. The Skolian exec was everything he appeared. The next morning, Tyra told Del what she had discovered. ISC had a secret dossier on Staver Aunchild. He wasn't just involved in freeing providers; he had founded the movement. ISC considered him one of their top civilian operatives. He had a long record of service to the Imperialate. He could have won numerous awards for bravery, but his actions had to remain covert. He did it all with no credit, no acknowledgement, nothing.

  Staver wasn't what he seemed. He was more. It was considered impossible to gain access to any of the few thousand providers kept by the Aristos. Yet he had freed over one hundred, at great risk to himself. The Aristos knew he existed, but nothing about his identity. They had offered a mammoth award for any bounty hunter who brought him in alive.

  What drove Staver? The woman he knew, the one the Traders had captured and made a slave—

  She was his wife.

  That night, Del transferred ten million credits into an unmarked offworld account with a code Staver gave him.

  "Here." Tyra pulled Del into the cobbled lane between two buildings as they ran. Jud and Bonnie were close behind, and Cameron brought up the rear. They raced through a wash of bluish laser-light, the overflow from holo displays on shops behind them. Tyra stopped at a door and smacked the open panel. When nothing happened, she kicked the door fast and hard, her motion blurring. She left a big dent in the metal slab.

  "Whoa." Jud gaped at her. "How did you do that?"

  "You can't go damaging property," Bonnie said.

  "Better than if I have to shoot your overeager fans." Tyra kicked the door again, and it buckled inward, hanging from one edge.

  Grabbing Del's arm, Tyra shoved him inside. He stumbled into the dark, then spun around while the others followed him. As Tyra wrestled the door into place, the pounding of feet grew louder. It sounded like the people chasing Del had turned into the lane. Bracing her knee against the door, Tyra wedged it into the frame. It could still fall inward, but only if someone pushed. They all stood in darkness then, breathing heavily while the rumble of feet passed the door.

  "This is crazy," Jud said.

  "No kidding." Del tried to laugh it off, but he couldn't any more.

  "I've never seen anything like this," Bonnie said. "Not even on the Mind Mix tour. And people get really intense about Rex."

  A light appeared around Tyra, coming from the belt on her black jumpsuit. They were in a storage area for a shop. Cameron walked around, scrutinizing the shelves while Tyra checked the area with her gauntlet systems.

  Jud was watching Tyra with fascination. "You must have some righteous add-ons. How could you bash in that door?"

  "I'm full of biomech," Tyra said. "Muscle and skeletal enhancement, hydraulic augmentation, bio-optic mesh, spinal node, and a microfusion reactor to power it all."

  Bonnie smiled at Del. "You have impressi
ve bodyguards."

  "Destructive, too," he grumbled. "I'm the one who'll have to pay for that banged-in door."

  "Hey, be glad she could," Jud said. "Otherwise those people would've caught us. Then you'd be paying for your banged-in body."

  Del regarded him curiously. "What do you think they would do if they caught us?"

  Jud smirked at him. "The girls all want to have biblical relations with you."

  Del squinted at him. "What relations?"

  "Can't you tell?" Tyra asked. "Good gods, Del, it's in their minds. They want to touch you. If my guess is right about what biblical relations means, then hell yes, they want that, too."

  Last year, Del would have joked about his supposed sex appeal. But the euphoria of being craved had worn thin. "It's hard to sort out their moods, especially with my barriers up. They seemed . . ." He hesitated, not wanting to sound as overwrought as his family considered him. "Out of control." It was a mild way of saying they were going to come down on him like an avalanche.

  Tyra didn't ridicule him. In fact, she said, "I'm trained in crowd control. You're right, that group wasn't far from losing it."

  Jud did a karate chop on the air. "Del can do his fancy martial arts to stop them."

  Cameron turned from where he was inspecting a canister of neon. "Yeah. So why haven't we ever seen him actually do these martial arts. He never does anything but dance."

  Del shrugged. "It's called mai-quinjo. I'm no good at it." After that night at the lake, he had practiced rigorously, but he had suffered a "slight" hiatus, as in forty-five years, before he started practicing again. "I don't know. Maybe it is more like dance steps." He had always wondered if the masters who developed mai-quinjo had subconsciously sought an outlet for men who wanted to move in rhythm on a world where only women were allowed to dance. "I've never used it to defend myself."

  Tyra was studying the miniature screen in her gauntlet. "I think it's clear outside. We should get going."

  Del nodded, relieved to escape their scrutiny. Tyra edged the door open and checked the lane while Cameron monitored the area. When his guards declared it safe, they all walked back to the plaza where Del's fans had accosted them. They crossed it with no other excitement and entered their destination, the Prime-Nova building in Washington, D.C.