“Had you been talking about Esprings with mother?” I asked.
“No. It was nothing, Sauscony.”
“Dreaming about electric shocks is nothing?”
He shifted his weight. “Actually, I dreamed I was being interrogated.”
On the bed behind me, Jaibriol drew in a sharp breath.
Somehow I made my voice stay calm. “Do you remember why?”
“Someone kept asking about my father’s army. I don’t know why I would dream such a thing. My father died when I was a few months old.” He rubbed his wrists, massaging them in the place where, on Jaibriol, the skin had been ripped raw. “It was so vivid. It felt real, even after I woke up.”
A chill went through me. Somehow he had tapped into Jaibriol’s interrogation. Through Kurj? Through me?
I knew Kurj. When he realized what I had done, he would have me questioned thoroughly, as much in response to my betrayal as to find out why. If Jaibriol’s interrogation caused my father so much distress, what would happen when it was me on that bench? Despite my father’s claim that his convulsions were “nothing,” I knew better. If he were having status epilepticus—back-to-back grand mal attacks—he was in a lot more danger than he was willing to admit.
Sauscony. My father motioned toward Jaibriol. You truly want this man?
I made an image of my mother. What would your life be like without her?
Your mother is not one quarter Highton.
Is what you saw in Jaibriol’s mind so monstrous?
My father exhaled. No. Quite the contrary. He considered Jaibriol, who was clearly trying to figure out why we were staring at each other and running through gestures and expressions as if we were holding a conversation.
“The two of you must ask the Allieds for sanctuary,” my father said.
If only life were that simple. “We can’t get off Diesha.”
“Couldn’t you have a pilot fly out here from the starport?” he asked. “Take the ship to Delos. No one but the three of us will know you have a passenger.”
How did I explain a planet-wide cordon to a man who understood war in terms of cavalry and troops? “We can’t get a ship, not without clearance from Kurj. And he won’t give it.”
“If I had another convulsion,” my father said, “you would have to summon a doctor.”
My pulse leapt. “You think you’re going to have another one?”
He smiled slightly. “It could be arranged.”
Ah. That would certainly bring someone out here. However much Kurj resented his stepfather, he needed him in good shape for the Triad. “But even if he sends a ship, he will only clear us for planetary travel, perhaps to a hospital on another continent, somewhere he considers safer than here. He won’t allow anyone to leave Diesha until he catches Jaibriol.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t leave anyway.”
“I don’t see how.”
“You freed Lord Qox.”
“That was before ISC went on alert. I doubt anyone could get out now.”
He met my gaze squarely. “I’m not asking if anyone can do it. I’m asking if you can.”
That caught me by surprise. To say he had never been thrilled with my choice of careers was an understatement. It rarely occurred to me that he might actually have a high opinion of my abilities. “I don’t know if I can. But I’m willing to try.”
“Good. Then it is decided.”
“It’s not that simple.” As if there were anything remotely simple about what he had proposed. “Even if we get off Diesha—which will be almost impossible—but if we do, we’ll running fast and desperate with who knows how many warships after us. They’ll alert every sentry from here to Delos. We would never make it there.”
He pushed up his spectacles. “Then you must already have a place to go when you leave. Somewhere unknown to ISC or the Traders.”
“If the place is unknown to ISC, how am I going find it?”
“Perhaps if we ask the Allieds.”
How could I make him see? “We can’t ask anyone anything. Communications are blocked.”
His gaze never wavered. “My Prime line is never blocked.”
Did he realize what he was saying? “You can’t use the Prime.”
“Why not? My understanding is that Kurj’s security systems won’t report my use of it.”
“They won’t even know. No more than you would know if Kurj or Aunt Deha used their Primes. But that’s not the point. You can’t use it for this.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Father, you can’t use your hotline to the Allied President to ask for her help in solving a personal problem. It’s meant only for crises that threaten galactic stability.”
He spoke quietly. “If the imminent execution of the Highton and Imperial Heirs doesn’t threaten galactic stability, I don’t know what does.”
That stopped me. I had been so caught up in events, I hadn’t had time to think through the ramifications. Our executions would tear apart the Rhon. In the midst of that chaos, an enraged Ur Qox would throw his military against us, seeking vengeance for his son’s death while we were weakened with internal strife. Our efforts to convince the Allieds we were a sound, calm government would collapse. We could end up justifying their worst fears, destroying what little trust we had built with them.
My father indicated the table. “You must set up the line, Sauscony. I don’t know how.”
I sat down, wondering if he had any idea how incongruous it was to the rest of us that he powered the Kyle-Mesh, yet didn’t know how to access it. He was illiterate, both with written language and with computers. Sometimes his refusal to learn bewildered me, other times it worried me, and yet other times I wondered if he had a disability he refused to acknowledge for fear of appearing even more deficient than he already felt when faced with my mother’s universe. But Kyle space—a universe few people could even access, let alone use—was child’s play to him, a place where he didn’t need to read or write. All he had to do was think.
I pushed a panel on the table and it swelled until it formed a sphere about half a meter across. As the sphere opened into a console, a horizontal section cleared into a holoscreen.
I glanced at my father. “I need the name and security codes for your Prime account.”
“The account name is Valdor. The passwords are the names of all you children converted into code by EM16’s level-four security file.”
I nodded, managing to act as if what he had just done—revealing the Prime’s prized security codes in the presence of the Highton Heir—was completely normal rather than the act of treason we both knew it to be.
I accessed his Triad account and set up the links to his Prime. Three Prime nodes existed, one for each Triad member, each independent of the others. As I waited for the security to clear, I heard footsteps. Glancing back, I saw Jaibriol standing behind me. He wasn’t trying to see what I was doing, which is what I would have done in his position. Instead he was watching my father.
My father frowned at him. “Yes?”
“I was wondering why you needed to see doctors,” Jaibriol said. “You look so healthy.”
“I have epilepsy,” my father said.
I stared at him, unable to believe he had so calmly revealed a secret he guarded from everyone but his family.
“How could that be?” Jaibriol asked. “We have no hint of it in our files on you.”
“Why should I tell any of you?”
“I’m just surprised our intelligence hadn’t discovered it.”
My father hardly seemed to hear. He was concentrating again, probing Jaibriol’s mind. Then he spoke in a gentler voice. “My family died when I was an infant, killed in a rock slide while they traveled. I had my first seizure then. The doctors believe my mind hadn’t yet separated from my mother’s, so the shock of her death injured my brain.”
I couldn’t fathom why he was telling Jaibriol. He rarely talked about his epilepsy. If neurons in his brain became ov
erstimulated, they sent out an abnormal flood of electrical discharges, causing him to pass out while his body stiffened and his jaw clenched. Sometimes he turned blue and stopped breathing for several moments. His body convulsed until his neurons fatigued, after which he went limp. When he woke up, he was tired and confused. He apparently never recalled the actual seizures. The first time I had seen it happen, as a child, I had been terrified he would die. The doctors told me he turned blue because the vessels in his skin constricted so more blood could flow to his brain.
What they didn’t say, what I didn’t learn until years later, was that his attacks were the most violent they had seen. The extra neural structures in his brain—those magnificent paras that made him such a gifted telepath—also made him agonizingly sensitive to the neural overload that caused seizures. By the time his brain had finished maturing, in his adolescence, his attacks had become so severe that without treatment he could have died from their intensity and frequency. He survived to eighteen due to the unflagging attention of his guardian, but they had both realized he would probably never reach twenty.
My mother had needed to see only one convulsion to realize that what he believed were “spirit afflictions” were some kind of neural seizure. Even now, when he knew epilepsy was a treatable condition that didn’t prevent him from living a normal life, he spoke of it only with family members or the few doctors he had come to trust. That he would reveal anything at all to Jaibriol astounded me. Something was going on between the two of them, something I couldn’t follow.
“My condition isn’t hereditary,” my father said.
Jaibriol spoke quietly. “That wouldn’t change my feelings for Sauscony. But if she and I go into exile, it’s unlikely our children will have access to the kind of treatment you receive here.”
“They probably won’t have epilepsy,” my father told him. “None of my children do.”
Children. It was a sobering thought. Our offspring, if we survived this mess, would be both Rhon and Qox. Gods only knew what that birthright would mean.
A light flashed on the console, accompanied by a chime.
My father glanced at me. “Is the Prime ready?”
“No.” Damn! “It’s Kurj. He’s trying to reach you.” I activated the comm, but left off the visual. Motioning my father over, I pointed at the “acknowledge” panel.
He touched the panel. “Yes?”
Kurj’s voice snapped into the air. “Eldri, have you seen Soz?”
My father stiffened. His full name was Eldrinson Althor Valdoria. Eldri was a nickname that only my mother or his childhood guardian used. And Kurj. My father liked it from my mother and didn’t mind it from his former guardian, but Kurj was another matter.
He spoke coolly. “Yes, she is here.”
Jaibriol stared at him like a man betrayed. But as he started to speak, I grabbed his wrist and shook my head. The pilots who had intercepted our flyer would have reported it. My father didn’t dare deny I was at the palace.
“Put her on,” Kurj said.
I leaned over the speaker. “I’m right here.”
“I want you to stay with him,” Kurj said. “Until we find Qox.”
My shoulders relaxed. So. He thought I had come to protect my father. It was a logical conclusion, or would have been had I known he was here. Even with all the security that guarded the palace, Kurj would prefer that my father wasn’t alone. What better bodyguard could he have than a Jagernaut Primary with far more than a military interest in his safety?
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Good. Out.” Kurj cut the connection as abruptly as he had initiated it.
I looked at my father. “He seemed to think I knew you were here.”
“Didn’t you? Your message came in yesterday.”
I had forgotten about that. “It was a ruse. I was letting Kurj know I had arrived.”
He smiled. “I was all set to answer. I was going to suggest we have dinner after Kurj made the announcement.”
“What announcement?”
“Sauscony, you needn’t be modest.”
I regarded him blankly. “Modest about what?”
“He hasn’t spoken to you yet?”
“About what?”
He exhaled. “I’m sorry. I assumed you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“He made his choice of heir,” my father said simply. “You.”
I felt like a Magrail train that had slammed into a wall at three hundred kilometers per hour. “What?”
“Kurj chose you as his heir. He signed the documents this morning.”
I just stared at him. Then I put my elbow on the table and rested my forehead on my palm. My mind was like a dry sponge with water running off it. I couldn’t absorb his words.
The realization gradually soaked into my mind. Kurj had made a choice. It wasn’t a battle anymore. I didn’t have to fight Althor any longer. I didn’t have to spend every day fearing the time would come when we were forced to make Kurj’s choice for him. It was over. I had won.
The timing made sense. I couldn’t image a more effective way to weaken Trader morale than for Kurj to announce he had chosen his successor in the same speech where he revealed he had captured the Highton Heir. It would make Ur Qox’s dramatic announcement of Jaibriol’s existence pale in comparison.
“I don’t…” My voice cracked. “Oh, gods.”
My father sat in the chair next to mine. “I know I fought your decision to join the military. It was difficult for me to accept.”
I just shook my head. What could I say? Besides, he and I had long ago set that issue to rest. Or more accurately, we had grown tired of arguing about it.
“Sauscony, listen to me.” He took hold of my arm, making me look at him. “I’ve watched you all these years. I’ve seen what your life has done to you. What you’ve done with it. You aren’t Kurj. You never will be.”
I stiffened. “Meaning you don’t think I can do his job?”
“No. That’s not what I meant at all.”
I struggled not to grit my teeth. “So what did you mean? That you think Althor would have been a better choice? Because he’s more like Kurj?”
He spoke dryly. “Being like Kurj hardly guarantees a person is suited to lead.”
“Then I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
“What I am trying to say, not very articulately I’m afraid, is that I think Kurj chose well.”
That stopped me, really stopped me. Among my father’s people, women had never fought as soldiers, much less war leaders. It was far different than the overreaching culture of the Imperialate, which was egalitarian now but had its roots in a matriarchy. Although I had always known my father loved me as much as my brothers, it was different. His sons were his pride. He saw them as warriors, me as the oddity. The last thing I expected to hear was that he considered me the best choice for Imperator. I didn’t know what to say, so instead I hugged him. He held me tightly, resting his head on top mine.
Finally I let go. “What did you mean when you said you had seen what my life has done to me.”
“It’s hardening you,” he said. “Twenty more years and I won’t recognize you.” He swallowed. “A century and what will you be?”
I thought of the life I had imagined yesterday: guarded day and night by Jagernauts, except when I came here, to this cold vault of a palace; living in constant suspicion of everyone, even Rex, who deserved better than to remember why he was crippled every time he saw his wife. No, I didn’t want it that way. But it came with the job—and I wanted the job.
Except it wasn’t mine to have. Not any more.
My father scowled. “What, you’re giving up? Deposed rulers have been going into exile since time immemorial. You and Prince Jaibriol would hardly be the first to flee and then return when the situation was more in your favor.”
“If we disappear, our right to our titles disappears with us.”
“I don’t claim it won’t be difficult. But each
of you is the rightful heir to your position.”
I saw the tears in his eye and heard the words he didn’t say. Come back. Come back so I know you’re alive. My own eyes felt wet. “You’re a very decent human being, you know that?”
He reddened. “I’m a backward farmer from a backward planet.” He motioned at the console. “If we don’t reach the Allied President, I will soon be a farmer minus one daughter.”
His account had finished setting up his Prime. I double-checked the link to Earth and then sent the call. It would go straight through the Kyle-Mesh, via telops, to a nanochip implanted in the Allied President’s body. The pathway from Prime to Earth was secured; the telops would never know they had transmitted a message. My pulse surged as I stood up, offering the chair to my father. As he slid into it, Jaibriol and I stepped back, away from the table, so we wouldn’t be visible when the Allied President came on visual. Then my father plugged the psiphon into his wrist.
The dry voice of Prime crackled in the air. “Line activated. Prepare to receive transmission.”
I gripped Jaibriol’s hand. This was it. If the Allieds turned us down, we had nowhere to turn.
“Ready,” my father said.
The holoscreen on the table tilted upward and an image appeared, a woman’s face and shoulders. A few lines creased her distinguished features, and grey hair curled around her cheeks. I had seen that face hundreds of times in news broadcasts. Tonight she looked different, tired and drawn, as if she had been sleeping when Prime paged her.
She nodded to my father. “Your Highness.”
He nodded to her. “President Calloway.”
She spoke in Skolian, cutting straight to the point. “What is wrong?”
“Two people need sanctuary. They must go to a place where no one can find them, somewhere unknown to either Imperial or Trader intelligence.” My father paused. “Somewhere unknown to Allied intelligence as well, if possible.”
“Why?” Calloway asked. “Who are these people?”
“The why is more simple than the who. If they don’t receive sanctuary, they will die.”
“And how does this concern Earth?”
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