“Do you know when he’ll be back?” I asked.
“Sorry, I don’t.” She smiled. “He went to the park. Shall I tell him you called?”
What if he didn’t want to see me? Maybe he was right there, but had asked her not to tell me. Oh, hell. This was getting me nowhere. “Yes. Tell him Soz called and that I’m here on Diesha.”
“All right. I’ll do. Bye.” Her image faded from the booth.
Bye? Bye? What was it with these young people, saying such words? What was wrong with proper Skolian phrases, like “My pleasure at our discourse, ma’am”? Bye was an Earth word. Young people had no appreciation for their culture. Rex didn’t need a nurse like that.
My console beeped at me. I touched a blue light in one corner, and a familiar voice came out of the speaker. “My greetings, Soz.”
My pulse jumped. “Rex?”
“Blossom paged me about your call.”
“Blossom?”
“My nurse.”
It figured she had a name like Blossom. “Are you there with her?”
“No. I’m in the park.”
The park. Which one? Diesha didn’t have many. Water was too valuable to spend on nonessential plants, so each suburb was allowed only one park. But Diesha had nineteen suburbs, which meant he could be nineteen places. Maybe he didn’t want me to know.
“Soz?” Rex asked. “Are you still there?”
I flushed. “Yes.”
“When did you get in?”
“Yesterday. I came to—” To what? My cover was that I had come to see him. “I was wondering—I mean, I know I’ve been gone a long time…”
His voice relaxed a bit. “It does seem like more than five months.”
“I was wondering how you were doing.”
“Better.”
“I’m glad.” What would he say if I asked to visit him?
“Soz…?”
“Yes?”
“Maybe you might—I’m in park Fifteen. If you’d like to come down.” Quickly he added, “If you’re too busy, I understand.”
I closed my eyes, so relieved I couldn’t answer for a moment. Then I said, “Yes. I’d like to.”
#
Park fifteen was hot and glaring. Broad avenues of casecrete marked off lawns the color of autumn leaves. As I rode a speedwalk through the park, people in uniforms strode by me, their eyes protected with mirrored visors.
Rex was exactly where he had described, sitting in the shade of a prickly tree. I walked toward him across the lawn, my boots crunching the grass. He looked so relaxed and healthy. The only indication of anything different was a silvery mesh that molded around his body from the waist down like trousers designed from a metallic net.
When he saw me, he raised his hand. As I waved back, he put his hand against the tree. When he jerked it back, I felt the puncture from its needle as if it jabbed my own palm. He tried again, this time leaning his weight into the tree without mishap.
Then he stood.
I stopped and gaped. Then I set off again, striding the last few meters that separated us.
“Heya, Soz,” he said.
“You’re standing up!”
His face relaxed into a smile. “Seems so.”
“How?” No, that sounded stupid. “I mean—I thought—”
He turned and indicated the base of his spine. Looking closer, I saw a psiphon attached to the mesh, with its prong plugged into his spine.
“It goes in above the broken sections,” he said. “Links to optical threads that run to my brain.”
That didn’t sound safe. “The doctors said it could hurt you if they tried any more manipulations with your biomech web.”
“The operation had some risk, but the procedure was simple enough that they thought it would be all right. They just repaired some threads in my body and grew another socket higher in my spine.” He tapped a tiny disk woven into the web. “When this chip intercepts a signal from my brain, it shunts it to the mesh.” He took a stiff-legged step away from the tree and held out his hands. “The mesh moves and takes me with it.”
I grinned at him. “You’re walking!”
He laughed, took another jerky step—and lurched to the side. I grabbed for his arm, but he pushed me off and fell to one knee, his face knotting with—what? Anger? Frustration? Slowly, he stood up. For a moment, when he said nothing, I thought I had offended him somehow. Then he smiled ruefully. “I’m still learning to make it work.”
“You’ll have it obeying you in no time,” I said.
“I hope so.”
So we stood, looking at each other. I said, “How’s Diesha?” in the same instant Rex said, “How was Foreshires?”
We laughed, a brief explosion that quickly died away. I said, “It was good,” while he said, “Just fine.”
This time my laugh felt more natural. “My mother came to see me.”
He grinned. “I’ll bet that shook up everyone.”
I smiled, remembering Jarith’s reaction—and immediately blocked the memory. But it was too late. Jarith’s image had jumped into my mind.
Rex spoke quietly. “It’s all right, Soz.”
“We said goodbye. He stayed on Foreshires.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“Rex…” Rex, what? Why did I have to be so stupid with words?
“Want to go for a walk?” he asked.
I almost said, Can you? But I caught myself before it came out. “Yes.”
He took a step. Pause. Another step. I walked next to him, peering at the mesh. It contracted around his right leg, carrying that limb forward, then moved his left leg forward. “That looks more comfortable than mechanical legs.”
“Not as strong, though. I thought about getting the hardware.”
I tried to imagine him with his legs sheathed in exterior mechanicals. “What made you decide against it?”
“I’m not sure.” He took another step. “My body is already so full of biomech. The idea of putting more on the outside didn’t feel right.”
“A biosynthetic marvel.”
He glanced at me. “What?”
“Someone called me that once. I wished they hadn’t.”
“I don’t blame you.” He indicated a bench a few meters away. “Want to sit?”
“Sure.”
When we reached the bench, Rex sank onto it and exhaled. “I never knew walking could take so much energy.”
I smiled. “Well, you’ve got to do something with all that energy.”
As soon as I said it, I wanted to fold up and blow away. It was a joke we had shared a hundred times before, a reference to his many girlfriends. It came out before I thought about it. Damn, I was an idiot. It was like hitting him with a sign announcing, Hey, look how insensitive I am!
Don’t be so sure, Soz. Rex smiled. I have more energy than you think.
I blinked, embarrassed by how transparent I was to him. Are you eavesdropping?
It’s hard not to, when you shout like that.
I reddened. I wasn’t shouting.
He smirked at me. You most certainly were. At the top of your mental lungs.
I glared at him. You’re as ornery as ever.
So my nurse tells me.
Pah. I refused to share my mind with his nurse. “You mean the esteemed Miss Blossom?”
“Miss? What does that mean?”
“It’s an old fashioned Earth word.” After all, Blossom was the one who liked Earth words. “It refers to a women’s marital status.” I squinted at him. “Or lack thereof.”
His voice gentled. “If you want to know, just ask.”
“I don’t mean to pry. It’s none of my business.”
“Would it make a difference to our friendship?”
Yes, damn it. No, that wasn’t fair. Why shouldn’t he have a lover? Because. Why did he want her and not me?
Rex watched my face. “Soz—she’s what I can deal with right now.”
Like Jarith. After a moment I said,
“I understand.” Then I snorted. “But can’t she do something about that awful name?”
“I like it.”
“You would.”
He laughed good-naturedly. “Still the same Soz.”
Despite myself, I smiled. “I guess so.” But I wasn’t. Foreshires had changed everything.
We spent the afternoon walking, sitting, talking. Neither of us mentioned Jarith, Blossom, or Delos. Someday we would sort it out. Now it was enough just to have his companionship again.
It was late when I reached home. The living room was dark, but as soon as the door opened I knew someone was inside. My hand dropped to the belt of my jumpsuit, where I had hidden a dart thrower. “Lumos up,” I said.
The room brightened, revealing my visitor: Kurj. He stood in an inner doorway leaning against the frame, his arms folded, his shielded eyes directed toward me.
I closed the door. “My greetings.”
“Why did you send approval for Charissa’s marriage license?”
Well, that was subtle. “Because otherwise no one would have ever let that girl get married.”
“She could have come to me. I would have taken care of it.”
“Given your—former relationship with her, she probably didn’t feel she could ask.”
He studied my face. “What advantage did you see in helping her?”
Advantage? “I didn’t.”
He considered me. “Who is Tiller Smith?”
“He worked in the Delos police station. He took our report about Jaibriol Qox.”
“And?”
I didn’t see what he was looking for. “That’s all.”
Kurj raised his eyebrows. “Then why did your spinal node flag on a book he gave you when your squad was leaving for Tams?”
What was he doing, keeping notes on everything I did? “It was a book of poems. It made me think about how combat affects me.”
He stood silently, like machine crunching data, analyzing, filing. Then he said, “That doesn’t explain why you became his patron at the Institute.”
“If I hadn’t, they would have eaten him alive.”
“I can see the advantage to him. But not to you.”
“I don’t see your point.” I did, in fact, see it perfectly well. But it angered me enough that I had no intention of acknowledging it. So what if no advantage came to me in helping Tiller or Charissa?
Kurj went to the bookshelf and pulled out Verses on a Windowpane. It fell open to the page marked by the Arcade ticket. As he stood reading, I could almost hear him filing the words in his brain: Always watching, always waiting, never satisfied.
He smiled dryly. “Poetry like this would inspire me to send him far away.”
A joke? No, it couldn’t be. But why not? Kurj could have a sense of humor buried in there. Just in case, I smiled. “Well, it’s different.”
“That’s not a reason to become his patron.” He slid the book on the shelf. “Did he please you?”
“If you’re asking did I bed him, the answer is no.”
“Did you want to?”
“No.”
Kurj frowned. “I assume he has no holds over you?”
“Of course he doesn’t.”
“Does Charissa?”
“I’ve never met the girl, aside from that day at the hospital.” Shaking my head, I said, “You’re looking for something that isn’t there. I helped them because I felt like it. No other reason.”
Kurj spoke quietly. “Then you’re a fool.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
“Why?"
This was stranger and stranger. I felt more like I was being interviewed for a job than called to task for my actions. “It’s better to have your citizenry as satisfied as possible with their lives. Happy people are more productive.”
“It isn’t your job to see to the happiness of Imperial citizens.”
“These were situations where I could make a difference.”
“Tiller Smith isn’t even Skolian,” Kurj said. “Not only does training him have no advantage to us, it could be a disadvantage. He will take his knowledge back to the Allieds.”
“So we should give him reason to stay here. Then we get use of his talent instead of the Allieds.” Who wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway.
Kurj considered me. “Very well.”
I waited, but he said no more. That was it. No warnings to leave off with his personal life, no reprimands, nothing. Instead, he settled into an armchair. Then he motioned me toward the couch.
I sat down, puzzled. Kurj sat there, silent and appraising, his inner lids covering his eyes like gold shields. I shifted in my seat. What was going on?
I want to take no risks, he thought.
I almost jumped up again. His thought was unusually clear and strong even for him, which suggested he had prepared in depth for this silent discussion. Why?
Security, Kurj thought.
You already have the best security in the Imperialate.
True. But this is an unusual situation. His thoughts had an odd flavor, a taste of triumph. We have a guest.
Who? I already knew he was the only one staying at the palace.
His smile had a grim edge to it. Then he showed me an image of our “guest.”
Jaibriol Qox.
My first reaction was a reflex I had coded into my node, a program set to run whenever I heard Jaibriol’s name. It initiated a procedure that shielded my mind as inconspicuously as possible, hiding my reaction. Behind that mask, though, my thoughts rocketed: how had they caught Jaibriol, where was he, what did they know? Even with my node working furiously, I couldn’t conceal the intensity of my response. So I let some of it show, just enough shock that Kurj would find appropriate.
The Highton Heir is here? I thought.
Yes. He is ours now.
But how?
He was in a ship, alone, without even a Solo and Escort. Kurj leaned forward. One of our Kyle sentries registered the ship during inversion, going at millions of times light speed. The Sixth Squadron threw him into stasis and dragged him out.
I stared at him. What was Jaibriol Qox doing alone, without a single guard?
We don’t know. He’s told us nothing. The shields over Kurj’s eyes glinted. Yet.
I didn’t want to imagine what they were doing to Jaibriol. I knew what his interrogators would soon discover, if they hadn’t already; mental blocks even stronger than a Jagernaut’s guarded his mind. On Delos, for me, he had relaxed those defenses. But if his were anything like mine, then under duress, his conditioning would stop him from lowering those barriers even if he wanted to.
I had tried to forget why his blocks so easily dissolved for me, tried to forget the longing in his voice, the feel of his body. But one thought was all it took. I remembered and my pulse raced. Even though he was the Highton Heir. I wanted him. Like knew like.
Kurj was watching me. What’s wrong?
Careful. Dangerous ground. I was thinking about my last meeting with a Highton.
Tarque.
I didn’t answer and he didn’t probe. It was the way we always treated the subject. I phrased my next question carefully. Why so much secrecy? Capturing the Highton Heir is a triumph. Making it public will cripple Trader morale and send ours flying.
I don’t trust this good fortune, Kurj thought. It may be a trap. Until we know more I intend to take no risks.
Purpose indeed. What had Jaibriol been doing, hurtling through space with no protection? No one without access to the Kyle-Mesh could have found him. Even with it, we were lucky to have caught him. At that speed, he could have traveled for years and only an instant would have gone by for the rest of us. Fast enough, and he could have lived his entire life and died before anyone knew he disappeared.
Then it hit me. He had intended exactly that. Suicide. Except it hadn’t worked. The Kyle-Mesh had caught him like a shimmerfly in a web.
I let a question reach the surface of my mind: What have you found out fr
om Qox?
Nothing. Kurj’s frustration simmered. He responds as if he has a biomech web in his body programmed to help him resist interrogation. But we’ve found no trace of one. His only implant is the cyberlock in his brain.
They were so close to the truth. What will you do?
Find an interrogator who can disrupt his conditioning.
I knew what would happen. Jaibriol’s mental shields could block the neural processes in his brain that let him interact with people. In extreme cases—like interrogation—he wouldn’t be able to communicate by any means, even speech. He couldn’t answer their questions. Breaking that conditioning was no different than breaching any other defense; it required a strong enough battering ram, in this case a powerful telepath. Kurj could do it, but his blunt power would smash Jaibriol’s mind. My brother Althor had more subtlety, but probably not enough. My aunt had the finesse but not the strength. Although my father had both, he had none of the military knowledge needed to do the interrogation. No one did except Kurj and Althor.
And me.
I forced a calm into my mind that didn’t touch what I felt. Why did you call me here?
He watched me with his shielded gaze. I’ve assigned you to Qox’s case.
You have more experienced interrogators.
None of them can break him. None. Think about what that means.
He has a strong mind.
Too strong.
I said nothing, afraid to move for fear it would give me away.
He is a psion, Kurj thought.
He can’t be.
Nevertheless. He is. A strong one.
I don’t see how that’s possible.
Nor I. Kurj shook his head. I’ve worked on him, Soz. I can’t break his defenses.
You can break any mind.
It would take so much force, it would reduce him to a vegetable.
I didn’t know which disturbed me more, knowing Kurj was on the verge of the truth or feeling his grim satisfaction when he contemplated the screams of the man he thought responsible for the massacre at Tams. It was the first time in my life I had felt the brunt of Kurj’s hatred, and I hoped like hell it was never directed at me.
If you can’t break him, I thought, I’m not sure what you think I can do.
You have more finesse. Get into his mind. Tell me what’s there. Kurj stood up. Meet me at the palace in the morning, oh-six hundred. Make it look like a personal visit.
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