Ascendant Sun

by Catherine Asaro

  “‘So does it amaze me, what beauty humanity has wrought,’” Anatakala murmured, quoting a well-known Ruby Empire poet.

  Steil snorted. “So does it amaze me, how much brutality that beauty hides. Don’t forget where we are, Commander.”

  Data flowed between the space habitat’s EI harbor master and the Corona’s EI harbor pilot, as the Corona identified their ships and received regulations for approach. Anatakala put them in a holding pattern thirty kilometers out from the station, where they could move at speeds up to fifty kilometers per hour. The flotilla took a spherical formation around Maccar’s ship, with the dreadnought positioned between the space habitat and the Corona.

  “Captain.” Ty Rillwater spoke in a subdued voice. “I’m getting a hail from the habitat.”

  “Put it on bridge comm,” Maccar said.

  “Sir, it’s in Highton,” Ty said.

  “Corona, prepare to translate.” Maccar switched to a private channel only the bridge crew received. “I don’t suppose any of you speak Highton?”

  Murmured negatives rippled through the crew. “Can’t say it was part of any curriculum I ever studied,” Anatakala muttered.

  Kelric said nothing.

  A man’s voice came over the station-to-ship channel, speaking in Highton, the rich glossy language of the Trader Aristos. “Welcome to Chrysalis Station, Captain Maccar. Proceed to the docking station at the hub.”

  “Translation,” the Corona said. “Welcome to Chrysalis Station, Captain Maccar. Please dock your ship at the station hub.”

  Kelric frowned. He saw problems looming already, if the Corona couldn’t even provide a good translation for so simple a greeting. Without fluency in the innuendo-laden language of the Hightons, Maccar was at a disadvantage with his Aristo client. As much as Kelric wanted to keep a low profile during this visit, he wanted even more to make sure they got out again.

  Before Maccar had the Corona respond, Kelric said, “Captain, I speak Highton. Better, I think, than your El.”

  If his comment surprised Maccar, the captain gave no hint. “The comm is yours, Commander. Thank them for their welcome.”

  “Aye, sir.” Kelric paused, working out a translation that would give Maccar advantage in the dance of double-talk practiced by Aristos. He switched to the ship-to-station channel and spoke in Highton. “It pleases us to approach Chrysalis Station. Your invitation to dock is noted.” His phrasing suggested it was up to the station to satisfy them, rather than the reverse. He deliberately left their docking plans unstated.

  “We await with anticipation,” the station answered. Maccar listened to the Corona’s EI give its translation. Then he spoke on the bridge channel. “Garlin, what did they say? Your version.”

  “They await with anticipation,” Kelric said. “Why, I’m not sure.”

  “Why aren’t you sure?”

  Kelric grimaced. “It could mean anything from ‘I’m looking forward to getting my goods and being rid of you’ to ‘I can hardly wait to slap you in a slave collar.’”

  Maccar exhaled. “Anatakala, can you keep the flotilla out here without too much drift?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “No problem.”

  “Good. Garlin, tell them we prefer not to dock.”

  Kelric nodded. Their refusal to come in would displease Lady Zarine, their Aristo client on the station, which she undoubtedly owned. But it left them more options if they had to make a fast escape. It also gave Maccar advantage, adding nuances that wouldn’t be lost on his client. If he ceded that advantage, it could suggest he was too willing to give up power in this wary partnership.

  Kelric spoke on the ship-to-station channel. “Chrysalis, we are pleased to send in a shuttle. We look forward to receiving your greetings and engaging in trade.” His innuendo suggested Maccar occupied a position of strength and had received a petition from the Chrysalis. Invoking the word trade put Maccar on the same footing as an Aristo, the only Eubian citizens allowed to engage in Eube’s most time-honored practice: trade. That such trades often involved humans was a fact Kelric didn’t want to consider.

  Maccar spoke on a ship channel. “Steil, you’re in command while I’m on the Chrysalis. Lieutenant Halzansky, Cargo Master Icolo, and Yeoman Parr, you’re with me in the shuttle. Commander Garlin, I want you up here now.”

  Kelric blinked at the unexpected snap in Maccar’s voice. Close mindscape, he thought. Release weapons CPU.

  Closed, the Corona answered. You are released.

  The view of space vanished, leaving him in darkness. Then his visor lifted and he found himself on the bridge. The view wasn’t much different from his mindscape; the inner surface of the bridge consisted primarily of holoscreens, and right now they all showed the Chrysalis. The crew and their consoles seemed to float in space, dwarfed by the station’s majesty. Steil and Ty were both right; the Chrysalis was beautiful and terrible, a magnificent work created by a people somehow capable of both inspired artistic genius and brutality without remorse.

  In the center of the bridge, Maccar sat in his blocky command chair. Kelric maneuvered out of his seat, then grasped a cable and guided himself to the captain. Maccar watched him with an unreadable expression. Kelric reached his chair and floated to one side, holding the cable with one hand while he saluted Maccar.

  The captain toggled off the comm, making their conversation private. “At ease, Commander.” As Kelric lowered his arm, Maccar added, “Or should I say, ‘my lord’?”

  Kelric stiffened. “Sir?”

  Dryly Maccar said, “You speak Skolian Flag with an Iotic accent. You’re fluent in Highton. You take the deference of others for granted. And you’re not used to taking orders.” He shook his head. “You Jag pilots may be the loners of ISC, but you would never have received your commission if you couldn’t follow discipline. It’s no longer natural to you, though. You’re one hell of a weapons officer, Garlin, but you’re out of practice. You haven’t done military service in years.”

  Although Kelric managed to keep his face impassive, his thoughts were anything but serene. Maccar had figured out too much. “Are you asking me a question, sir?”

  “Damn right I’m asking you a question. I want to know who the blazes you are.”

  “My name is Kelric Garlin. I’m an Imperial Jagemaut.”

  The captain frowned. “I’ve run a check on your name and DNA. No matches. Without full web access, though, I could only check our shipboard libraries and the Edgewhirl webs. For all I know, your ID is all over the main Skolian databases. I have no access to them right now.”

  Kelric almost swore. Maccar had also run a genetic scan? At this rate, everyone and her brother would be stealing his DNA. Maccar wouldn’t find his name and face “all over,” but if he keyed into enough databases, he could dig up clues to Kelric’s identity.

  “Sir,” Kelric said. “May I make a request?”

  Maccar continued to study him. “Yes?”

  “Don’t download a record of my DNA to any other system.”

  “Why?” he asked. When Kelric said nothing, Maccar’s voice hardened. “I’m ordering you to answer, Commander.”

  Kelric knew if he refused, he was buying himself more trouble. So he said, “I was married to Corey Majda.”

  Maccar stared at him. “Admiral Majda? Former matriarch of the House of Majda?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The captain frowned. “I served in the Fleet for ten years. I know its history. Admiral Majda has been dead for thirty-three years and she was forty-five when she died.” He snorted. “What were you when you married? Ten years old?”

  “Twenty-two, sir.”

  “Twenty-two?” Maccar raised his eyebrows. “That isn’t even legal age.”

  “It was an arranged marriage.”

  That gave Maccar pause. “The noble houses still do that, don’t they?” he mused. “Majda would never arrange a marriage with a commoner, though. So who are you?”

  “I’m not a member of any noble house.�
�� Technically that was true. Although one name for the Ruby Dynasty was the House of Skolia, they were royalty rather than nobility and outranked any noble house.

  Dryly Maccar said, “Right. And just why would the head of the oldest, most venerated house, not to mention the wealthiest, with the exception of the Skolias, marry a man with no title?”

  Kelric didn’t have to feign his anger. “I believe the phrase is ‘trophy husband.’” It didn’t matter that the marriage had been made for dynastic reasons. People had used the term anyway. He hated it as much now as when he had been twenty-two.

  To his surprise, Maccar didn’t challenge his answer. Instead he said, “I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked, given the effect you’re having on my crew. At twenty-two you must have been devastating.”

  Kelric blinked. He hadn’t realized he had affected anyone besides Anatakala, or that Maccar had noticed. “I wasn’t aware of problems, sir.”

  “Commander Steil wants you dismissed from the bridge. Says you’re a distraction.” Unexpectedly, Maccar laughed. “I told her to deal with it. This is my ship and I won’t have any member of my crew treated in an unequal manner because of his sex.” He glanced at the guards on Kelric’s wrists. “Even those crew members who voluntarily choose inequality.”

  Kelric held back his retort. The captain had no way to know how much the guards meant to him.

  Maccar was watching his face. “I’m sorry if my questions seem invasive. But we’ve a problem and I have to solve it.”

  “A problem?”

  “I need you in the negotiations with Lady Zarine. My bet is that not only do you know Highton, you also understand Aristos better than the rest of us. But saints almighty, man, Zarine is going to take one look at you and ask me how much I’ll sell you for. And I’ve never met a psion with your strength before. I doubt even most Aristos have. We’ve an oath of safe passage from these people, but we’re in their territory, outnumbered and outgunned. If anything goes wrong, I can’t guarantee I’ll get us out of there.”

  Kelric raked his hand through his hair. The motion pushed him away from the chair, but he pulled himself back with the cable. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “An Aristo noblewoman would consider it an insult for you to bring someone with low rank to the negotiations. She knows you have a person or EI here with fluency in Highton. Tell her I’m a commoner without officer’s rank. Aristo protocol then forbids you to bring me into her presence.”

  Maccar didn’t look thrilled. “That would explain why you don’t come with us to the Chrysalis. It still leaves me at a disadvantage.”

  “We could set up a link from here to the station.”

  “I doubt she’ll agree to a remote link. She knows your ability gives me advantage.” Maccar exhaled. “It’s worth a try, though.”

  Relief flowed over Kelric. “Then you don’t wish me to come with you?”

  The captain spoke with reluctance. “I think it’s better if you don’t. Too many risks. And with General Majda in command of ISC now, your position as her predecessor’s widower would make you a valuable hostage.”

  Kelric stared at him. “General Majda? Do you mean Naaj? Corey’s little sister?”

  Dryly Maccar said, “If by ‘Corey,’ you mean the late Admiral Majda, then yes, I meant her sister. Though I’d hardly call Naaj Majda ‘little.’ She’s six feet tall and over seventy years old.”

  Disconcerted, Kelric said, “Of course.” In truth, Corey was the only one he had ever heard use such an affectionate term for Naaj. Everyone else addressed the hard-line general as “ma’am.”

  He wasn’t sure whether to be elated or wary that Naaj had taken over ISC. She was one of the officers he had intended to search out when he was ready to set up his power base. But if she already had command of ISC, a position she could never have assumed without the fall of the Ruby Dynasty, she might not welcome his appearance back from the grave, particularly given he also had claim to substantial Majda assets.

  Maccar was watching his face. “I don’t remember anything about Admiral Majda marrying a commoner. Granted, it’s been a long time and I was a kid then. But something that unusual would have been a big news story.”

  Kelric resisted the urge to say, It was everywhere. The Assembly had transformed the wedding into a production, broadcasting the whole business. Apparently it made good public relations, marrying off the handsome young Ruby prince to the nobility’s most powerful matriarch. His main function had been to stand around looking suitably heroic and keep his mouth shut. It had been no better for Corey. By the time they escaped to the Majda palace on Raylicon for their honeymoon, they were both so thoroughly irritated they didn’t even sleep together at first.

  The miracle was that when they relaxed, they discovered they liked each other, an affection that over the next two years grew into love. Kelric had even admitted to himself that his parents might have actually known what they were doing when they betrothed him to Corey.

  All he said was, “Majda didn’t want it public that she married outside the Houses.”

  “I suppose.” Maccar had an odd look, as if he were searching his memory. Then he exhaled. “Stay in your quarters until this is over. Keep a low profile.”

  With relief, Kelric said, “Yes, sir.”

  Lying on his bunk, Kelric stared at the ceiling. He had set the radiance bars to a muted glow, too dim even to penetrate the corner shadows. He didn’t want more light, nothing that might add to his tension.

  It had been hours since Maccar had gone to the Chrysalis. No one had heard from them. Several times Kelric found himself on the verge of going to the bridge, where he could use his console to probe the Chrysalis. It took a conscious effort to make himself stay put. Maccar was right. He was no longer used to shipboard discipline.

  He wished Maccar hadn’t stirred up his past. Corey. Gods, he hadn’t thought about her in years. Yet another person he had loved who died. Damn it all. He didn’t want to remember. He was tired of hurting. He wanted to go home. See his parents. Reaffirm that at least some of the people he loved weren’t dead or forbidden to him.

  A hum came from the door. Startled, he sat up. Then he got off the bunk and went over to the door. After he checked the security panel, he opened the portal.

  Ty Rillwater stood outside, small and round, her yellow hair curling about her rosy-cheeked face. “My greetings, Kelric.” She beamed at him. “My relief just came on shift. I thought you might want company, since you’re confined to your quarters.”

  Her cheerful good nature washed over him, easing his tension. “My greetings to you also, Ty. Come in.” He motioned to his one chair, near his bunk. As she went over and settled into it, he sat on the edge of the bed, his booted feet planted wide, his elbows resting on his knees.

  “Is there any news from Maccar?” he asked.

  Ty shook her head. “Nothing yet.”

  He made a frustrated sound. “They need a better interpreter than the Corona’s translator.” They needed him.

  “They’ll be all right. Maccar hadn’t expected to have a better one.” With mock solemnity she added, “Besides, we would never have let him take you to the Chrysalis. Your absence would make the bridge a far less aesthetic place.”

  Kelric smiled. “I’m sure you would survive.”

  Mischief flashed on her face. “Well, you know, Steil would take us all to task for pining over a work of art.”

  “I’m a weapons officer,” he said good-naturedly. “Not a sculpture.”

  “I could wax poetic,” she offered. Then her smile faded. “But Kelric, none of us wanted you to go to the Chrysalis. The risk to you is just too great. You’re such a strong empath and you don’t hide it well. When I’m near you, I feel like I’m in the sun. It’s beautiful.” She looked apologetic. “I hope that doesn’t sound like I’m making a pass. I’m not. But we all appreciate your being here.”

  He spoke quietly. “Thank you.”

  With a
grin she added, “So now can I flirt?”

  Kelric laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

  Her reply was cut short by the shrill of an alarm from his console. He stood up fast, his enhanced speed toggling on. The console screen cleared to show Captain Maccar, with the interior of the Corona’s shuttle in the background.

  “Garlin and Rillwater, to the bridge,” he said. “We’re leaving as soon as the shuttle docks. Emergency status.”

  “Right away,” Kelric answered.

  “On my way,” Ty said.

  They ran through the ship, sailing in huge strides. At the end cap of the cylinder, they went “up” an access tube that stretched from the rim to the center of the cap. Gravity decreased as they climbed, until they were hurtling themselves through the air. They had no weight at all when they reached the cap’s center, a spherical cavity a few meters across. Access tubes identical to theirs radiated like spokes out from the cavity in every direction. Air-lock hatches were centered in both the forward and aft bulkheads, the forward hatch leading to the bridge and the aft one to the docking tube that ran down the center of the cylinder.

  The aft hatch suddenly clanged open and Maccar propelled himself into the cavity, coming in sideways to Ty and Kelric. Ty heaved open the forward hatch and the three of them entered the air-lock. They waited interminable seconds while it sealed, both the hatch and a molecular membrane that served as a backup. The hatch into the bridge opened, they flew into the hemisphere—

  And Kelric froze.

  The holos of space were gone. Instead, the huge screens that stretched across the bridge showed a Trader news broadcast. Steil was sitting in the captain’s chair, her posture frozen, her gaze fixed on the broadcast.The relief crew were all at their stations, every one staring at the screens. Bigger than life, the images dominated the bridge.