Exile's Throne

by Rhonda Mason

  ::We aren’t alone anymore.:: He released her from his hug and dashed over to greet the octet almost as enthusiastically as he had greeted her—Trinan and Vid especially.

  Her gaze locked on Vayne, and it was all she could do not to knock everyone out of her way to reach him. She even took a few steps toward him before faltering. Protocol, there was protocol to observe. It was right to greet her sister first, as Ordoch’s exiled sovereign. And perhaps it was best to save greeting Vayne for last, since she’d have no interest in anyone after that.

  Natali approached, saving Kayla from a misstep. “It is very good to have you back with us, sister.” Her brief smile dispelled the earlier tension between them. “Back where you belong.”

  The rightness of being reunited with her Ordochian family— permanently, this time—overwhelmed Kayla. She surprised them both by giving Natali a fierce squeeze.

  Her sister stiffened.

  Kayla released her immediately, remembering too late that Natali’s torture at Dolan’s hands had changed more than her sister’s attitude about her responsibilities as heir to the throne. “I’m sorry.” She backed away to give Natali space as the room went silent. “I didn’t think.”

  What should she say? Kayla looked to where Vayne stood, hoping for a sign of what she should do, but he gazed fiercely the floor.

  Natali took a breath, a second, slowly relaxing.

  “I’m sorry,” Kayla repeated, meaning something entirely different this time.

  Natali shook her head. “No, I apologize. It has just been some time.” Some time since what, she didn’t say. Her pale blue eyes scanned Kayla’s face, took in her attire—kris daggers strapped to each thigh, flat-heeled boots for sure footing, tunic slit on each side to allow for maximum movement, and belt holding an ion pistol at the small of her back. She nodded in approval.

  ::It is good to be with another ro’haar again. There is so much the others don’t understand, such as duty, sacrifice, and making the hard choices.:: The kinship in Natali’s mind voice connected them in a way the hug hadn’t. Kayla completely agreed, even if the sentiment might have offended the others.

  She had an affinity with the octet, whose creed was much aligned with hers, but only another ro’haar could truly understand how far she would go to protect what was left of her family.

  Kayla’s mind was still filled with Corinth, and she loved the happiness that bubbled over from him through their link. Nevertheless, she would have gently squeezed him out in order to speak mind to mind with Natali, had her sister given any indication that she would welcome the connection.

  No such indication came from the ever-reserved Natali.

  Uncle Ghirhad, apparently unable to contain his greeting a nanosecond longer, broke into the moment, joining them to give Kayla a boisterous hug.

  “You are looking so well, my dear. The picture of health,” he said, still hugging. In contrast, he looked much diminished from how she remembered him. “It is wonderful that you’re here. I’m delighted, absolutely delighted.” If she didn’t surpass him in height and muscle mass, Kayla imagined he’d be twirling her in the air. Uncle Ghirhad hadn’t been particularly effusive before the coup, and this overwhelming show of excitement seemed out of character. Then again, Corinth hadn’t been mute before Dolan tore their family apart, and she hadn’t been psionically dead.

  So much had changed.

  Unsure how to deal with this new side of Ghirhad, and unable to break away, she said the only thing that came to mind: “Uncle, can I reintroduce you to my friends, who rescued all of us from exile?” At last he released her, but not without a kiss on the cheek. She braced herself for any number of reactions.

  “That would be splendid. Absolutely splendid.” His smile grew, which hadn’t seemed possible. “I am thrilled to be in their company again, these heroes. Especially as they have done so much for us.” He stood on tiptoe to kiss her cheek, then headed straight toward Malkor without waiting for her to lead. The octet would understand his greeting, thanks to their translator implants, but would not be able to reply. Uncle Ghirhad didn’t seem to mind one bit, shaking hands enthusiastically and clapping each of them on the elbow, as shoulders were out of reach for him.

  At last she was able to greet her il’haar.

  Corinth respectfully withdrew from her mind as she crossed the room to where Vayne, Tia’tan, and Noar stood beside the observation windows. Kayla nodded vaguely to the Ilmenans, then everyone in the room faded from her awareness.

  In the brief vidchats they’d had the last few weeks, Vayne had seemed edgy and tense. Now, standing face to face, his eyes held a measure of peace.

  ::Ro’haar.:: His mind voice expressed a dozen emotions that found an answer in her. He reached mentally for her and Kayla responded, eager to connect. She reached, and…

  … found only the hole in her mind where her powers should be.

  Disappointment flashed through him and into her before he could stop it, and hit like a whip strike. She scrabbled at the void, clawing with mental fingernails at the edges, searching for any way past the black glass that separated her from her powers.

  For one millisecond they had both forgotten her handicap, making reality all the harsher.

  The moment passed as Vayne sent a flood of emotion that was welcome and love and joy and reunion all in one.

  In her heart, she knew peace. I am home.

  * * *

  It took Kayla a minute to become aware of a presence at her elbow, despite that presence being her shadow for the last five years.

  Corinth.

  Standing beside her and giving Vayne, the brother he idolized, an uncharacteristically serious look. Vayne looked back, just as serious, and Kayla itched to know what was passing between them. She was stuck between wanting to speak with Vayne alone, and not wanting to hurt Corinth’s feelings by asking him to leave them.

  Corinth saved her from the choice by walking away, closer to the huge viewports as if studying the Mine Field.

  By unspoken agreement, Kayla and Vayne headed to the back corner of the room and settled in chairs. He brushed against her mind, asking permission, and Kayla paused before letting him in. She quickly boxed away her feelings for Malkor and set them behind a deeper mental wall, feeling guilty even as she did it. In the past she wouldn’t have considered hiding something from her twin—yet another lovely part of Dolan’s legacy.

  Vayne slipped into her mind gently. His essence filled her and he drank her in, and the moment felt so right, it was as if half of her soul had finally returned to her.

  It was right, but it wasn’t perfect. The ghost of her missing powers lurked between them, and though he shared much of himself, she sensed that he held back as well.

  ::Things will be as they were before,:: he said. ::We just need some time.:: He sent a wave of confidence through with the words that swept Kayla along. How could it not, when she wanted so badly to believe.

  Kayla let out a breath it felt like she’d been holding since Vayne fled Falanar with Tia’tan months ago. It wasn’t until this moment, sitting here with him close enough to touch, that she finally believed she’d see him again.

  ::I’m so glad you’re here.::

  How have you been?

  They spent time in silence getting reacquainted, then Vayne sent memories of the events on the Yari in the past few weeks. He attached an intellectual and emotional commentary to each still or moving image that gave her a much more complete understanding of events than an oral report ever could.

  She saw the rooks chasing Tia’tan’s ship through the Mine Field, saw the same ship self-destruct thanks to Itsy, a stepa at es who was still at war with Ilmena in her mind. Kayla felt the horror of coming upon Itsy’s cell, and Vayne’s fury that Captain Janus and the others had knowingly endangered him by keeping information hidden. Gintoc almost killing Corinth accidentally when he was trying to protect him, Vayne, full of guilt for killing Gintoc. The grief of Tia’tan and Noar over the deaths of their teamma
tes, Ida, Larsa and the others grieving for Gintoc and Itsy.

  She felt the frustration of hours upon hours of debate with Tia’tan, Natali, and the others over whether they should abandon the Yari, if the ship was worth fixing, if they should step through the Tear to Ordoch, and the biggest: should the PD—the ship’s superweapon, dubbed the Planetary Destroyer—be used in the war to secure Ordoch’s freedom.

  Interspersed throughout were grueling workouts, unending runs through the ship, mid-sleep cycle pushup sessions, and on and on. She felt exhausted herself as she experienced Vayne’s punishing routine to keep himself centered on the physical rather than trapped inside his own mind.

  It was a ro’haar’s preferred way of dealing with difficult emotions—avoidance.

  Vayne mentally chuckled. ::True, but it works. I wish you’d taught me it years ago.::

  Hey, being an il’haar is all about staying inside your mind and avoiding distractions.

  A memory not her own flashed in her mind: Incarceration at Dolan’s laboratory. Natali, urging Vayne on as they worked out together side by side, in a fierce bid for sanity amidst the chaos their world had become.

  It vanished as soon as she became aware of it, and she felt Vayne pull back from her.

  He looked away. ::That was a long time ago.:: She could practically hear him slamming mental doors shut. Kayla didn’t protest. If memories of his time with Dolan were too fresh to share, she respected that.

  ::What have you been up to while all this craziness on the Yari has been going down?::

  She slammed a mental door of her own, reinforcing the box that held memories of her time spent with Malkor.

  Most of the time I impersonated Isonde, and that was about as fun as you’d imagine. She dredged up a few minutes of memory from one of the Sovereign Council meetings, until Vayne held up his hands.

  ::No more, please.::

  Told you it was fun. I thought fleeing Falanar as an interstellar criminal would have been exciting, but… Kayla showed him her memories of lying in the medical pod on Ardin’s starcruiser while she recovered from her battle with the biocybe, then, once she was out of bed, more healing time, long sessions with Toble while he poked and prodded the massive wound on her arm to check its healing progress, wearing regen cuffs to bed, coolant cells at other times to keep the inflammation down, then there was rehabilitating her arm muscles…

  ::Wow, you really hit the fun lottery, didn’t you?::

  Most of the time she’d spent with Malkor, happier than she’d ever been in her life, but he didn’t need to know that. It would be so much easier to keep parts of herself private if she didn’t have to let him fully into her head in order to communicate mentally. He would have less access and she could choose to be as forthcoming as she wanted to, the way all Wyrds handled private communication.

  She needed her damn psi powers back.

  ::You thought that so loudly I heard it with my actual ears.::

  He grinned, having regained some of his former good humor. ::It was so classically Kayla.::

  What, to be so frustrated I’m swearing?

  ::Exactly.:: He chuckled and she joined in. The carefree moment was precious beyond words.

  When it passed, she felt the loss of her psi powers—and the connection that came with them—that much stronger.

  Vayne shifted forward in his seat, making certain he held her gaze. ::The loss isn’t permanent. You know that.::

  She frowned. Why, because Dolan said so?

  His lips tightened when she mentioned Dolan, but he powered on. ::We both saw the pristine scans of your brain. Dolan was a great many terrible things, but he was scrupulously honest about what he called his “research.” If he says it’s possible to reconnect with your powers, it’s going to happen.::

  I’ve been trying for five years. Her protest was half-hearted, though, because his words aligned with her own secret hope.

  ::You have not had me to help you for five years. Now that we are back together, il’haar and ro’haar, all will be well.::

  In this moment, she could almost believe it.

  * * *

  Malkor breathed a sigh of relief when Kayla’s garrulous uncle finally wound down his effusive greeting and wandered out of the room. In someone else the enthusiasm would have been faked, but Ghirhad seemed genuinely thrilled to meet them.

  It was a little eerie.

  That left him face to face with Ida and Benny once more. Something in the captain’s eyes told him the welcome party was over. Ah, the glamorous life of an IDC agent. Travel the galaxy and meet new people everywhere who dislike you on sight. The way Benny stood next to the captain, tense, with watchful eyes, illustrated that he was as much here to protect her as he was to greet the newcomers.

  At Ida’s prompting, Benny handed Malkor a collection of lanyards with RFID chips for his team, who had moved off to the side of the room, out of the way.

  “Always to be worn,” Benny said. “Allowing access to floors and rooms permitted.”

  If he hadn’t been warned about the crew’s ancient form of the Ordochian language, Malkor would assume his aural translator implant was malfunctioning.

  “Is calibrated to our bullpups, also. Might save you from the friendly fire by registering on the weapon.”

  Might? Well that was comforting.

  With that the two crew members left, leaving Malkor standing alone. Natali followed them out, on the way making brief eye contact to acknowledge his existence, but that was it. Kayla and Vayne were ensconced in chairs at the far end of the room, deep in discussion. It would be some time before he saw her again.

  He rejoined his team and the Ilmenans came to greet them and get reacquainted.

  “It’s quite a relief to see you here,” Noar said in Imperial Common. He smiled. “I had some doubts about our plan.”

  Rigger shook his hand. “Thank you for not elaborating on them beforehand.”

  “Otherwise we’d have hightailed it out of here and headed for the beaches of Yallahs,” Vid added, and Trinan nodded in agreement.

  With the exception of Corinth and Kayla, Tia’tan and Noar were Malkor’s favorite people on board. Their help had been invaluable in the Ordochians’ rescue.

  “Since the not-so-welcome wagon has left,” Tia’tan said, “how about we show you around?”

  A few months ago, Malkor could never have conceived that Ilmenans would become his only willing allies. “We’d appreciate that.”

  “Please don’t take offense, but I’m going to return to the engine room,” Noar said. “Larsa is installing a large piece of the engine casing today and she needs help with the heavy lifting.”

  Malkor sized Noar up, who couldn’t be taller than a meter and a half. Noar chuckled and shook his head. Malkor caught something about “non-psionics” as the Wyrd left.

  Tia’tan grinned. “You’re in a whole new league now, agents. Come, I’ll show you the ship.”

  She led them down the corridor to the maglift, held her RFID tag to the door to unlock it, and ushered them in. It was a tight fit. “You won’t be able to access most of the floors.” A diagram of the ship showed a mind-boggling number of levels. Tia’tan keyed in several of them and the screen flashed an angry red at each one. A command came up, but Malkor couldn’t read Ordochian and his aural translator wasn’t any help.

  “Kayla warned us about that.” The restriction didn’t sit well with him or his team, even if it was for safety reasons.

  They traveled to one of Tia’tan’s allowed levels and stepped out into another rawboned corridor. Struts ribbed the wall at regular intervals and no bulkheads covered the glittering, rose-gold molychromium surface. Thankfully, a planked walkway had been laid down the center or else they’d be stepping over a strut every ten meters.

  Tia’tan stopped at a door identical to the hundred they’d already passed. “I think this is you, Agent Rua. Try your ID tag.” “Malkor, please. My career as an IDC agent died a spectacular death.” His tag worked, re
vealing a small, sparse private cabin fit for a military vessel.

  Tia’tan went through the rooms, getting each of Malkor’s octet members to their bunks. Malkor met her in the corridor as his team unloaded their gear. “Which way are you and the others situated? I know Kayla will want to have Vayne and Corinth on either side of her, even if that means some rearranging.”

  Tia’tan looked embarrassed. “Um, Kayla will be located with her family and the rest of the Wyrds, two decks up.”

  Malkor let his silence indicate what he thought of that move.

  “It’s not as though Ida and Natali expect you to murder us in our beds at night.”

  “Isn’t it, though? Why else quarantine the imperials down here?” That really burns my space fuel. It was one thing to say that he was used to an unfriendly welcome as an IDC inside the empire. The IDC had unlimited jurisdiction and were often called in to make unwelcome changes to local governments. But to be unwelcome here, when they had proven their loyalty to Kayla, her family, and their cause, time and again…? Malkor ground his teeth.

  An awkward moment passed in silence. Finally Tia’tan brushed past it. “Let me show you where the commissary is, and then I’ll take you to the engine room to see the hyperspace drive.”

  “I’d prefer to see my octet outfitted with plasma bullpups first thing. Who knows how many stepa at es are loose on the ship, and I won’t have my team facing such a threat unarmed.” The octet was trained in hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship with an ion pistol—which meant absolutely nothing against a shielded psionic. Rigger, Hekkar, and the others were no better than bait walking the corridors without a plasma weapon capable of penetrating a psi shield.

  “The captain confirmed that thirteen crew members were unaccounted for,” Tia’tan said, then corrected herself. “Twelve, now that Itsy has been killed.” Her voice took on an edge at the mention of Itsy—who, suffering dementia, had killed two of Tia’tan’s people. “Some or all of those twelve may be dead, since the brain damage from faulty cryopods seems degenerative. We’ve searched as best we can, but it’s a massive ship and there are only a handful of us. We haven’t found anyone.”