Catch the Lightning

by Catherine Asaro

  Two waroids waited by the entrance to the chute, standing on the deck rather than floating. Our guards were settling onto the deck as well, their magnetized boots fastening to its surface. Althor’s guards stood like giant statues, holding his arms as he floated between them. My guard also stood with his feet planted, his hand gripped on my upper arm. I drifted next to him, holding down the hem of my dress.

  The leader was watching the holomap. “How long until the ship is loaded?”

  “It should only be a few more minutes,” one of the waroids said. Her voice had a curious sound, flat and inhuman, but with an accent. I didn’t recognize it as Skolian at the time, but I saw Althor stiffen when she spoke.

  The leader considered me. “What are your connections?” he asked.

  I swallowed. “My what?”

  “Leave her alone,” Althor said.

  The leader’s head swiveled to him. “Why can’t we find this wedding contract of yours?”

  “Stonehedge probably lost it,” Althor said. “It’s just a supplement contract.”

  “Supplement? What does that mean?”

  The Skolian waroid answered. “It’s a euphemism. It means she’s his concubine.”

  The leader looked at me. “I can see the motivation for this.” Using the tip of his gun, he pushed aside the neckline of my dress, partially uncovering my breast. “Yes, I see can see the motivation.”

  Althor struggled in the grip of his guards. “Don’t touch her!” Another waroid spoke. The authority in his manner came through even the filtering of his voice, as did his Skolian accent. He indicated Stonehedge. “Get rid of him.”

  The leader nodded. He motioned at a different waroid and it took a med clip out of its armor. As it fired the clip, Stonehenge tensed, a strained look passing over his face, as if he wondered whether or not he was about to die. Then he slumped, his body going limp. When I realized he was only unconscious, I almost gasped with relief.

  The leader swiveled his head to the Skolian waroid who had wanted Stonehedge knocked out. “What is it?”

  “Selei is lying,” the Skolian said. “He could have as many concubines as he wants. He’s never taken one.”

  “Everyone has his needs,” the leader said.

  The Skolian made an odd sound, like a filtered bark of laughter. “Oh, he does, you can be sure. When he applied to DMA, he failed a test in his psychological battery of exams because it suggested he spent too much time fantasizing about sex, enough to distract him from studies. The admissions board let it go, though.”

  “Then why do you dispute his claim about the girl?”

  “It doesn’t fit his profile. For lovers, he selects women who are his equals. Not concubines. You must remember, this man descends from a rigidly matriarchal culture.”

  “That was five thousand years ago,” the leader said.

  “True. But traces of it remain.”

  The leader’s head swiveled to me. “I would hardly call this frightened child his equal.”

  Althor was watching the Skolian waroid intendy. Even without my empathic sense, I could guess his thought: Who was this, who knew more about his confidential records than Althor knew himself?

  “Sir,” another waroid said. “The pod is in position on the Jag. We’re ready to leave.”

  “Leave my wife here,” Althor said. “You have me. You have what you came for.”

  “You want us to let her go?” the leader said.

  “She’s of no use to you. And she can’t identify any of you.”

  “She pleases me,” the leader said. “You aren’t going to need her anymore.”

  Althor clenched his fists. “Touch her and you’ll regret it.”

  The leader walked around him, his boots hissing as they attached and released from the floor. “You’re in no position to ' make threats.”

  “With what you must be getting paid for my kidnapping, you could have any woman you want,” Althor said. “You don’t need her”

  “You must have had a reason for marrying her, Rhon prince.”

  “Just look at her. It’s obvious why.”

  “I don’t believe you.” The leader motioned to the waroid holding me. “Bring her.”

  We went into inversion soon after leaving Epsilon Eridani. No one talked to us or answered our questions. When Althor and I tried to speak to each other, they told us to be quiet. They didn’t talk much even among themselves. Their main intent seemed to be getting their job done.

  The cabin was cramped. Nine waroids crewed the ship, each reclining in a control seat, with visored helmets over their heads. Exoskeletons enclosed their bodies, bulkier models than on the Jag. Althor was two rows in front of me, bound to his seat from neck to toe by a mesh. They hadn’t bothered webbing me, just tied my arms and legs to the seat.

  Jag, I thought. Wake up.

  No answer.

  Althor? Can you hear me? Again, no response. Cotton filled my brain.

  The trip stretched into a daze of silence and fear. Twice Althor tried to twist around to see me, and both times the pilot told him to stay still. After a while, the visored helmet on my seat came down. Lights blinked and hieroglyphics scrawled across its inner surface. Odd symbols appeared, in strange patterns of color and symmetry. Sounds pinged or echoed eerily. A cloying mist blew against my face, clogging my nose… sleepy…

  I stirred once, almost waking, aware again of strange patterns, smells, and sounds in the helmet. A tube was in my mouth, giving fluid every now and then. I swallowed, never knowing if the taste would be bitter or sweet.

  I woke up when we reinverted and was relieved to find the helmet retracted. A murmur in unfamiliar languages went on between the waroids and the ship. It was all verbal or visual; no one seemed linked into this ship the way Akhor linked to the Jag. We accelerated, were weightless for a moment, then accelerated again. When the g-forces let up, a bell clanged, followed by several jolts.

  The waroids stirred, preparing to leave the ship. One untied me and helped me out of the seat, its armor hissing like a pump releasing air. Althor was standing at the front of the cabin, his arms bound behind him, flanked by guards. He watched me, his face creased with strain.

  We disembarked onto a black plain that stretched for miles in every direction, until it faded into a metallic haze. Low buildings were visible in the distance, square and blunt, lava-black. Cranes hooked their way to hundreds of feet above the plain, bent at odd angles, with gigantic chains hanging from their tips, un-moving chains, as still as everything else. We were-inside a structure so large that its ceiling formed a “sky.” Overhead, two halves of a gigantic dome were closing. A sliver of black sky showed through the narrowing opening, then disappeared as the doors silently came together.

  The low gravity gave our walk across the plain a dreamlike quality. The building we approached resembled a black box, long, wide, and low. A slab in one wall rolled to the side, uncovering a membrane that irised open, leaving a shimmering hole. When we walked through the shimmer, it felt as if a soap bubble clung to my skin.

  The room inside could have been the interior of a polished box made out of black marble veined with red. Tables, benches, floor, walls, ceiling: all were carved from one gigantic block of stone. The waroids had Althor sit on a ledge jutting out from one wall. One of them questioned him in an unfamiliar language. The leader listened, standing with his legs planted wide and his arms crossed, his armor reflecting the red-veined marble so that he looked like an obelisk.

  Althor refused to speak. Finally the leader motioned at my guard. The waroid pulled me over to the leader, who pushed me against one of Althor’s other guards.

  The leader spoke to Althor. “You will cooperate, I assume.”

  Althor looked at me and his composure slipped, his face creasing with strain. “Yes. I’ll cooperate.”

  His guard resumed the interrogation. Althor answered in the same language, his sentences terse, his face once again impassive. Apparently the leader didn’t believe whatever
he was saying. After several moments he motioned to the doctor who had knocked out Stonehedge. The doctor walked forward, opening a compartment in his armor and removing a metal tape. Althor tensed as his guards took hold of his arms and pulled back his head. But the doctor only placed the reflective tape against Althor’s neck. Data scrolled across it in English, rather than the hieroglyphics Skolians used, and holos of a man’s torso formed. One showed a complicated web with disruptions around the left shoulder.

  A waroid behind us spoke. “Sir, we’re getting the signal. They’ve docked and disembarked.”

  The leader swiveled his head. “Go meet them.”

  “Right away.”

  I glanced at the waroid who was leaving. Getting a signal from what?

  The doctor spoke in English. “His biomech web is damaged.” Moving with care, he peeled the false skin off Althor’s shoulder, uncovering the healing wound. When he removed the bandage around Althor’s waist, it revealed the transcom socket. He pressed the skin around it and the transcom slid into his gauntleted hand.

  The door behind us rumbled again. Turning, I saw the waroid who had left return with a man and woman. At nearly seven feet tall, with a muscular physique, a gun hanging from her belt, and a mirrored carbine in her hands, the woman was obviously a bodyguard. The man was also well over six feet tall, with a lanky .build and silver hair. He walked over to us, bringing a sense of authority with him.

  “So, Althor,” he said. “We see each other again.”

  14

  Ragnarok

  “Ragnar?” Hope and apprehension chased each other across Althor’s face. I recognized the name. Admiral Ragnar Blood-mark. Althor’s mentor. His second father.

  Bloodmark looked down at him. “I’m afraid we have a problem.”

  Althor’s face closed again, hiding his emotions. “What kind of problem?”

  “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  Although Althor’s composure didn’t slip, even my deadened empathic senses couldn’t miss his reaction. He faced a betrayal that shook the foundations of his life. But all he said was, “I’m not.”

  “So I see.” Bloodmark turned to the mercenary leader. “I’ve received the offer, and it is acceptable. We uploaded the rendezvous coordinates to your ship.”

  “I still don’t like it,” the leader said.

  “We tried it your way.” Bloodmark motioned at Althor. “This is the result. He still lives and the Allied-Skolian negotiations continue.”

  “Is that what this is about?” Althor asked. “Our reestablishing diplomatic relations with the Allieds?”

  Bloodmark glanced at him. “I truly am sorry, Althor. I am, in my own way, fond of you.”

  A chink of bewilderment showed in Althor’s defenses. “Then why? Why are you doing this?”

  “There are those of us,” Bloodmark said, “who find it unacceptable that our existence as a coherent society—our very lives and liberty—are bound to the whims of an unstable family that is dying out as we watch.” He paused. “Some of us see alternatives.”

  Althor tensed. “What alternatives?”

  The admiral paced away from him, hands clasped behind his back. “Four hundred and fifty years.” He turned around. “This is a long time to fight a war.”

  “If we don’t fight the Traders;” Althor said, “they’ll conquer us.”

  “Probably.”

  “Then you know we need an alliance with the Allieds.”

  “We tried that.” Bloodmark paced in front of Althor. “Your dear mother’s legacy to our two governments. A failed marriage and a flawed treaty.” He stared at the far wall. “Your lovely mother.” He turned to Althor. “And when we needed them? They betrayed us. They held our prize jewels—your family—hostage.” He held up his hand, a tiny space between his thumb and index finger. “This close, Althor. We came this close to fighting a war with our ‘allies’ on the heels of our last war with the Traders.”

  “If you consider my family ‘prize jewels,’ why kill me?”

  “I didn’t say I was going to kill you. Prize jewels, after all, are worth a great deal of wealth. But right now, we have a more important question. This mysterious marital contract of yours.” Bloodmark waved his hand at me. “With this pretty, if inappropriate, child, who, if I understand correctly, comes from Earth.” Althor stiffened. “It’s a supplement contract.”

  Bloodmark snorted. “Althor Selei, who barely deigns to acknowledge the reams of spectacularly beautiful women who throw themselves at his bed? You’ve always chosen women as partners. I find it hard to believe you would suddenly take a concubine.”

  Althor shrugged. “That’s your problem.”

  “Why can’t we find the contract?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Stonehedge misfiled it.”

  “Shall I use drugs?” Bloodmark asked.

  “It won’t do any good. I’ve nothing to tell you.”

  “Sir.” The mercenary doctor spoke. “His biomech web can release antidotes to truth serums. If it doesn’t have the antidote, it can flood him with tailored neurotransmitters to make him forget or misremember information.”

  Bloodmark spoke softly. “Don’t lecture me on biomech webs, Doctor. I designed the prototype Commander Selei carries in his body.”

  Even filtered, the doctor’s voice sound subdued. “Yes, sir.” Bloodmark turned to the leader. “What have you found out about her?”

  “Nothing,” the leader said. “She can’t be from Earth. No record exists matching her description, retinal pattern, voice signature, fingerprints, or brain scans.”

  “Then where is she from?”

  “One of the frontier worlds, I would guess, someplace that hasn’t kept up records.”

  “Kyle rating?” Bloodmark asked.

  “Almost nothing,” the leader said. “We ran scans during the flight out here. She’s barely an empath. Maybe a two on the scale.”

  Barely an empath? I glanced at Althor in time to see a puzzled look pass over his face, then disappear.

  “You’re sure?” Bloodmark asked. “Shipboard scanners aren’t designed for Kyle tests.”

  The doctor spoke. “It isn’t as good as the equipment in a lab, but if she had any significant Kyle ability, we would have found some indication.”

  Bloodmark nodded. He turned back to the leader. “Your assessment?”

  “At first I thought Selei was lying about it being a supplement contract,” he said. “After her tests, though, I’m inclined to believe him.”

  The admiral turned to another of the waroids. “Your assessment?”

  “I agree.” It sounded.like the Skolian who had known Althor’s military records. “She doesn’t seem to have much to offer aside from—the obvious.”

  Bloodmark came over to me. “You’ve been very quiet during all of this.”

  “I want to stay with Althor,” I said.

  He spoke softly. “I would be careful what you ask for. You may regret it.”

  “Why?” Althor asked. When Bloodmark didn’t respond, Althor said, “Damn it, Ragnar. Answer me.”

  The admiral turned slowly, his expression hardening. “For decades I have answered to your family. Bowed to you. Kept my place. Even though morally, intellectually, psychologically, emotionally, and physically I am your superior. No, Althor, I will never ‘answer’ to you again.”

  “Is that how you saw it?” Althor stared at him. “Gods, I’ve looked up to you since I was a boy.”

  Bloodmark’s stiff postured eased. “I truly am sorry it had to be you. You are—more tolerable than other members of the Rhon.”

  “You couldn’t have been faking your friendship,” Althor said. “We’re telepaths. We would have known.”

  “And I’m not.”

  “Not a telepath?”

  “That’s right.”

  Althor blinked. “That matters to you?”

  “To me?” Bloodmark gave a curt laugh. “No. Only to you. Your family” Bitterness tainted his voice. “You c
onsider yourselves so superior. But you’re not.”

  Althor gave him an incredulous look. “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No. How could you have felt this way without our knowing?”

  “Oh, I think your father suspects. Never the full extent of it, but he has far less affection for me. You should have listened to him more, Althor, instead of mouthing off every time he said a word.”

  Althor swallowed. “I don’t believe you felt this way. I would have known.”

  Bloodmark shrugged. “You would be surprised what a biomech genius can simulate with his own web. At disguise, I am a master.” He considered Althor. “I am proud of you. Of all the systems I’ve designed, you are the most splendid. It is true that biomech demands a high toll: the operations, the danger of parts growing incorrectly, the years of training, the chance of rejection, the security clearances, the price even in our humanity—it is prohibitive, to say the least. But it is worth it. We are a superior species. That day before your eighth birthday, when you took your first step—that was the day I knew my work with you would succeed. My tears then were as real as those your parents shed.”

  “Don’t,” Althor said.

  “But have you ever thought of the price Imperial Skolia paid for your repair?” Bloodmark came closer to him. “In human terms? Terms such as, say, the planet Far Shore? I was born there, you know. A rough place. Half the population is starving. On a planet with three billion people.” His voice hardened. “The cost of a juice pod on your homeworld would be enough, on Far Shore, to feed a family for days. What it cost to make you a whole human being—that could have fed Far Shore’s entire population for a year.”

  Althor stared at him. “You think my family should feed Far Shore?”

  “I don’t hold your family responsible for feeding planets. I do find it a sad commentary that the Assembly considered one hideously deformed child more important than the population of an entire planet.”