Because if I was sick, I could be cured.
That was the crux of it. A problem could be fixed. If no problem existed, that would mean the way I had been feeling was normal, not something I could change. I didn’t know if I could have lived with that.
Maybe, just maybe, I could go back to see Tager.
Eventually I started to walk again. I looked forward to getting out of my uniform and relaxing in the quiet of my apartment. The harbor was only a kilometer from the building where I lived, so it didn’t take long to get home.
As I neared the building, I saw several people standing on the steps. It wasn’t until I had almost reached them that their identities filtered past my preoccupation, and I understood why they were staring at me. It was Jarith and his friends, including Rebeka and Hilt. I had forgotten Jarith invited me to the beach.
I stopped in front of them, standing awkwardly. “I’m sorry I’m late. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
Jarith was staring at the bands on my jacket. “No, not long.”
I pushed my hand through my hair. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much company today. Perhaps you should all go without me.”
They nodded. No one seemed to have any idea what to say. Jarith’s embarrassment practically shouted at me; he felt like an utter fool, an idiot who had been lunatic enough to ask an Imperial Primary on a date.
This is no good, I thought. I smiled at him. “Would you like to come up?”
Jarith blinked. “To your apartment?”
“Yes.”
He reddened. “Oh.” Then he smiled. “Okay.”
The others looked at him, then at me. Rebeka cleared her throat. “Well. We’ll—um—see you later, Jar.”
When he nodded, the others bowed slightly in my direction and left—all except Hilt, who was the one I most wanted to disappear.
“I’d like to talk to you,” Hilt said. He glanced at Jarith, then back at me. “In private.”
Given what I had almost done to him, I owed him that. “All right.”
We walked to the other side of the steps and stood in the shade of a tree. “What is it?” I asked.
“Are you going to tab us?” Hilt asked.
Tab them? “What do you mean?”
“For the things we said. On the hike.”
Then I understood. He wanted to know if I intended to report them. It was a legitimate question. I knew officers who would add their comments to their files.
“No,” I said. “I’m not going to do anything.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “You have a right to voice your opinions.”
He spoke bitterly. “Do we?”
I wanted to say, “Of course you do.” But it wouldn’t come out. So instead I said, “You talked about things I needed to hear. None of it will go farther than me.”
“Swear.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You Jagernauts claim to live by a code of honor. Swear on that code you’re telling the truth.”
Who was he, to question my word? “The hell with you.”
He snorted. “I figured as much.”
Stop it, I told myself. “All right. I swear it on my honor as a Jagernaut.”
He blinked. After a moment, he glanced at my hand. “How is it?”
“Fine.”
“You could have killed me, couldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I stared at him. “You must really think I’m a monster.”
He shook his head. “Believe it or not, I respect people who are willing to fight for what they believe. But to me, you represent the worst of the oppressor. My parents spent ten years in prison when Ruth-2 was absorbed into the Imperialate. Their only crime was that they protested Imperial Space Command descending on us when we had done nothing but live productive, peaceful lives.”
Ten years? No wonder he didn’t like me. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t give back those years to them.” He swallowed. “Or to me.”
Something in his voice made my heart lurch. “How old were you when they took your parents?”
He spoke tightly. “Four.”
Gods. I knew ISC dealt harshly with its critics, but what Hilt described was beyond reason. “You’re right, I can’t give you back those years. But I won’t forget what you’ve told me.”
“So what? What will that change?”
“Maybe more than you know.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced.
After Hilt left, I walked back to Jarith and tried to smile. For him, it even came naturally. We went inside the lobby, to a set of glass doors made from doubled panes. I took out my pass, a square card with my fingerprints etched on it, and slid it into a slot on the doors. A scanner whirred as it swept its laser over the card. Then the doors glided open.
We stepped into a glass-enclosed room. “Top floor,” I said. The doors shut and the room lifted silently. The liquid crystal between the double panes rearranged in response to electric fields produced by the lift, changing the polarization of the glass so we could see through it. Below us the lobby spread out in an elegant view of plush carpets and gilded furniture. The lift rose through the roof and up the outside of the building, giving us a spectacular view of treetops and countryside.
Jarith and I stood in silence. His nervousness hung like mist in the air.
“How did your test go?” I asked.
“I got a pass plus.” His face relaxed. “With high marks on music theory.”
“Well. Good.” I wasn’t sure what to say. It had been over a quarter of a century since I had worried about tests.
The lift opened onto a corridor. Only one door showed in the hall, an old fashioned wooden one with a copper knob. When we reached it, I slid my card into a slot under the keyhole. The door swung inward with a click.
As we walked inside, Jarith’s mouth fell open. “This is beautiful.”
I smiled. The room no longer seemed dark. Amber sunlight and ringlight poured through the windows, and the giltwood shone.
“I like it.” I closed the door and went to the bar. “Would you like a drink?”
He came to the other side of the counter. “Do you have rootberry juice?”
“Good gods, no. How can you drink that stuff?”
He laughed. “It’s good.”
My heart melted at his angel’s smile. For him, I would have Pako order rootberry juice.
“How about mineral water?” Jarith asked.
“That I have.” After I poured him a glass, I pulled out the whiskey for myself. Then I changed my mind and poured myself a glass of fizzy water instead.
We sat together on the sofa. I managed to keep my hands off of him until he finished his drink, but when he leaned forward to put his glass on the table, I trailed my fingers through his hair. He glanced around with a smile. Then he sat back and reached for me, sliding his arms around my waist. As I put my arms around his neck, he bent his head to mine. And that was when I found out how rootberry drinkers kiss. No wonder they all guzzled so much of that stuff.
After a while we paused and just sat hugging each other. I laid my head against his shoulder, filled with an incredible relief. Gods, I had been lonely.
Jarith murmured against my ear. “You don’t feel like a Primary.”
I nuzzled his neck. “How do I feel?”
“Good.”
I sighed. “Ai, Hypron, it’s been so long.”
Jarith went rigid. After waiting for him to relax or say something, I leaned back in his arms. “What’s wrong?”
He watched my face. “Why did you say that?”
I tried to recall what I had said: It’s been so long. “I haven’t had much company lately.”
He studied my face as if he were searching for an answer. Then he reddened. “I guess I’m just nervous. I can’t believe I’m here like this with you.”
I touched his face. “I’m gla
d you are.”
He took my hand, curling his fingers around mine, and drew me into another kiss. When we came up for air, I smiled. “I think this is where I ask if you want to see my etchings.”
Jarith looked intrigued. “Ask away.”
So I did. He didn’t demur.
My bedroom was like an atrium, airy and full of plants. Arched windows graced the walls, with giltwood frames and copper fittings, and a skylight above let in more light. Lying on the bed among fluffy white pillows and blankets was like being enveloped in clouds.
Jarith and I curled together, bare skin against bare skin, and explored each other, taking our time in the afternoon light that slanted through the windows. He fit perfectly into me, his hips stroking my thighs and his hands stroking my skin. I moved with him, then slowed down, holding myself at the tantalizing edge, hanging there with him until we both gave in and surged to a crest that broke with gratifying intensity.
Afterwards we lay among the comforters, Jarith on his back with his eyes closed and I fitted into the curve of his arm.
#
“Soz?”
I stirred drowsily.
“Soz, wake up.”
“Hmmm…?”
“It’s dinner time,” he said.
I made a protesting noise. He nudged me, sliding his hands over my body. At first he was trying to wake me up, but his touch soon turned into caresses.
I sighed. “Ah, Hypron…”
His strokes stopped with an abruptness that jolted me awake. I opened my eyes, aware of the cool air against my side. Jarith was sitting up in bed, staring straight ahead.
I tugged his arm, trying to pull him back down. “What’s wrong?”
He looked at me. “That’s the second time you’ve done that.”
“Done what?”
“Called me Hypron.”
My pleasant drowsiness vanished. “I called you Hypron?” But yes, now that I thought about it, I had said Hypron. “I’m sorry.”
He lay next to me and drew the comforter over us both. “Who is Hypron?”
Lying under the blankets, cradled in his arms, I felt safe, maybe safe enough to tell him what he wanted to know. I crept up to that hidden place in my mind as if I were edging open a drawer. A sun floated in there, dimmed and dark. I closed the drawer.
“Soz?” Jarith regarded me with an odd look, like a person who thought he had won a sweepstakes and then learned it had all been a mistake.
“Hypron was my husband,” I said.
“Was?”
I spoke gently. “I wouldn’t be here with you now if another man was in my life.”
The tension in his arms eased. “Why did you leave him?”
“What makes you think I left him?”
“Who in his right mind would leave you?”
Wryly I said, “I’m glad someone in the universe feels that way.”
“Soz—” His mind brushed mine. “Why do you hurt so much?”
“Hypron died three years ago.” There. I had said it. The world hadn’t ended. “It was less than a year after we married.”
“I’m sorry.”
I tried to shrug, which was my usual response, but it was hard to shrug with Jarith holding me so close. So instead I gave a far more honest reply. “So am I.”
“May I ask what happened?”
It was a moment before I answered—but I did answer. “My squad was checking on a colony in T-Hea sector. He was a farmer there.” Hypron. He had made me smile from the moment I saw him. And I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off him. It wasn’t that he was more handsome than anyone else, but to me he had always looked irresistible with his mischievous grin. Something about him made me feel good, that deep down good that warms you everywhere.
“We married two weeks after we met,” I said. “We didn’t know—the colonists had lousy medical care, and the immune system treatments he received hadn’t taken properly. By the time we realized what had happened, it was too late.” My voice caught. “So he died.”
“Ah, Soz, I’m sorry.” He rested his head on mine, holding me under the blankets. And finally I opened that mental drawer with the dim sun inside. The memories were there, recollections of such joy and pain. But I could look at them. Today I could look at them.
After a while I said, “When I first met you, I thought you were an empath.”
“I am. Actually, Empathic Healer is my designation in the Kyle registry.”
I lay warm in his arms. “I thought so.”
He spoke softly. “When other people hurt, emotionally, I can’t bear it. I have to try to reach them, to sooth them. But I almost never know if I do any good.”
I kissed him. “You do.”
“You’re all three.”
“All three?”
“Empath, healer, telepath.” He touched my hair. “I feel like I’m standing in a nova when you let down your barriers.”
“I let down my barriers?”
“When we made love.”
“Oh.” I would have to watch that. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t. A person should have a time in her life when she could relax her defenses.
A disembodied voice cut into our conversation. “Soz.”
Jarith nearly jumped out of the bed. “Who is that?”
I laughed softly. “Just my mesh node.” Raising my voice, I said, “Pako, not now.”
Pako’s voice came out of a comm discretely set in the wall across the room. “Qox is about to broadcast a speech.”
For flaming sake. I had told Pako to let me know when news involving Qox came on. So of course the confounded Emperor had to give a speech when I was in bed with Jarith.
“All right,” I grumbled. “Play it.”
The holoscreen across the room came on, projecting an image of the puma crouched to attack. The Trader anthem began to play, its haunting strains filling the room. How such a hideous people create such a beautiful piece of music, I had no idea.
Jarith shuddered. “Why do you want to watch this?”
“I have to know what they have to say.” It was true, however much I hated it.
“Every time I see them, I feel like I’m—” He paused, searching for a word. “Like I’m being—”
“Raped?”
He gave me a startled look. “Yes.”
The puma reformed into an image of two people. But neither was Ur Qox. The man who stood on the left was Kryx Quaelen, the Highton Trade Minister.
The speaker, the man at the podium, was Jaibriol.
Jarith got out of bed and pulled on his pants. “I can’t watch this. Not here. I’m sorry. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
Why did Jaibriol have to trespass into my life again, just when I had a chance to forget him? I got up and went to the closet, grabbing the first thing I touched, a simple shift. “You don’t have to go.” I pulled the dress over my head. “I’ll leave. You can stay here.”
“Why don’t we both go into the living room?”
I understood then. He didn’t want the Hightons in the place where we had made love. “All right.”
I sat on the sofa watching the holoscreen while Jarith made himself a drink. Jaibriol’s speech had little substance, just the usual Trader business about how wonderful they all were. It didn’t sound like him. That wasn’t what chilled me, though. To someone who didn’t know him, which meant most of the galaxy, he probably appeared like a normal Highton. But I had seen him from the inside, that night on Delos. The man giving that speech was drugged.
Jarith sat next to me, holding his drink. Whiskey. He took a long swallow, watching the screen like a man in a trance, unable to look away. But he hardly noticed Jaibriol. It was Quaelen who mesmerized him. What power did the Hightons have, that they could terrorize us even through a broadcast? Was it the language of their bodies, the cadence of their voices, the flexing of their hands? At some level, we recognized them. Seeing Quaelen chilled me. Why was he with Jaibriol?
A horrible thought came to me. Maybe
Ur Qox put Jaibriol in Quaelen’s care. The Emperor of Eube, the monstrous leader of the Traders, carried the recessive genes of an empath. He was half Rhon, inheriting the DNA only from his mother, so none of his traits manifested. But he had every gene unpaired. Did he feel some trace of empathy, enough to have compassion for his son? Perhaps he gave Jaibriol to Quaelen because he couldn’t make himself to force his son into the role he had sired Jaibriol to play.
I didn’t want to imagine Jaibriol’s life with Kryx Quaelen as his “mentor.” I could guess what happened; Jaibriol refused to give the speech and Quaelen drugged him into compliance, maybe using threats or physical force as well. The worst of it was that Quaelen didn’t need drugs or threats. He could easily record enough data to create a convincing simulation of the Highton Heir that would give whatever speech Quaelen wanted—if it were only Jaibriol’s words he desired to control.
Jarith sat next to me, his face ashen as he downed his drink. Finally I said, “Pako, turn off the broadcast.”
As the screen darkened, Jarith glanced at me, relief washing out from his mind. “You have to watch every speech they give?”
I grimaced. “Unfortunately. ‘Know your enemy’ and all that.”
“It was bad enough when Qox had no heir. At least we could hope he would be the last of his line. But with his son materializing out of nowhere—” Jarith shuddered. “I wonder if it will ever end.”
I didn’t see how it could. If Qox hadn’t produced an heir, another Highton would have claimed the title. The new Emperor would be just as bad. The Hightons would never evolve into a gentler people. Aristos were genetically programmed to be Aristos. Nor would time dilute their gene pool. Their obsession with the purity of their bloodlines came from far more than arrogance. They truly were a pathological strain of life; when they reproduced in a way to expand their gene pool, having children with their providers, they bore offspring they were driven to destroy.
Now Jaibriol stood there, drugged and vulnerable, the one person in this star-spanning war of hatred who could end it, either by coming to the peace table—or by bringing Imperial Skolia to its knees.
XI
A Time To Speak
“Many people survive far worse,” I said. “I only lived through three weeks of it.”
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