The Kinship of Stars

by Julie Ishaya

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part One

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  Part Two

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  Copyright © 2001 J.H. Kimbrell

  First Edition Title: The Infinity Grid

  Copyright © 2014 J.H. Kimbrell

  Second Edition Title: The Kinship of Stars

  Copyright © 2015 Julie Ishaya

  Third Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Geeknugget Studios

  For Daddy. I miss you.

  PART ONE

  1

  The faint blue-haze glow of the distant titan line bled into the cruiser's passenger compartment. Adam Asmirrius sat back in his chair gazing at the energy wall and how it filmed over the field of deep space, reducing the stars on the other side to frazzled specks.

  The tension in him wound tighter. Today, after three years away on diplomatic work, he had leave to see his son. Three long years, he thought, too long for a father to go missing from his boy's life.

  Or his wife's.

  Jenesaazi was native to Valtaer, her race and heritage denying her safe refuge on Nex. While she might at rare times still be called on as an intermediary between the Nallian aristocracy in southern Valtaer and the lords of Nex, she could not, over a long period of time, withstand the cold and stark environment of the Dyssian palace or the other elements of Nex. Very cold and stark indeed, he reflected as Jenesaazi's face floated behind his vision. He blinked her away, staying the excitement in his heart that he would finally touch her in the flesh and not through the amplified psionic missives he shared with her.

  He tried to keep his gaze on the titan line. Labeled T-III on the map of Nex space, it was only one of many dense energy barriers shimmering in this sector of blackness and stars. He narrowed his vision toward the upper horizon as far as the cruiser's bulbous window would allow. The stabilized asteroidal colony of Dyss, the imperial seat of Nex, dominated the other eight rocks with their smaller palaces and flecks of light. The system's more far reaching rocks incorporated a series of mines which produced various elements that contributed to the wealth of the empire.

  Adam settled in for the trip, which, though short, would not be easy. The cruiser was designed for this. The passenger compartment resembled the inside of an organic shell, dark and crusted with ridges along the floor—part of the automatic cleaning system. The front wall pulsed slightly, a tough membrane of protective carbon fiber housing the craft's neural engine. The seats were melded with the floor, but somehow never felt secure enough in spite of safety measures. Rifting always shook any craft, even the massive Imperial Command, to the point at which it seemed ready to implode or fly apart. Adam looked on with passive acceptance, knowing that he would be delivered safely through the rift despite the discomfort.

  He surveyed the inverted triangular shard of Hella, the cracked and cratered ellipse of Sheollan. The other six were more distant and faint, but all displayed needles of light beams reaching out from various facets of each rock. These were anchor beams, the main source of stability for the Nexian system. The light of the red star Arctus marked the center of Nex and grew dimmer to the tiny ship's departure. Beyond the far side of the rock-laden field, the forbidden expanse of Shiv space opened up.

  There were few stars in Shiv space.

  Adam gave the Shiv little thought at the moment. He already had enough to deal with in his son without adding the tensions to come between the Nexian regime and the Shiv. He expected displeasure from the boy, feelings of abandonment. "The shift will be manifesting in him soon," he caught himself thinking aloud as if it would free him of the mental burden.

  "My lord?" the cruiser's intellect drive asked in its androgynous voice.

  "Oh, nothing," Adam replied. He massaged his temples and closed his eyes for a moment before returning his attention to the window in time to see T-III grow larger in perspective. The wall rippled, mirror-like waves transforming it into a vertical sea in space. Titan lines were not impenetrable, and any shielded ship could pass through from one sector of space to another. It took an entirely different form of power and shielding, however, to rip a titan open and pass through into the other dimensions in which it coexisted.

  The craft veered sideways, its iridescent hull and wings picking up glimmers of blue. The flight pattern fell into a parallel with T-III. In moments the blue glow intensified. A second titan line, T-VI, came into view. It intersected with T-III at the most powerful nexus point in the system.

  "My lord, we are reaching the nexus. The ship will be in position in forty units."

  The nexus point appeared as a vertical thread of intense light where the two titans met and formed a corner.

  "Issue safety meld," Adam said. The chair emitted a soft hiss as it conformed to his body. The support to his spine adjusted and the edges of the seat came up to hug his hips. Wide bands grew around his waist and formed a poli-fibre shell belt of spiraling filigree patterns. Another reached around his head, formed thick veins about his temples. Four more closed around his wrists and ankles. Held firmly in place, he waited.

  "The power supply is at full capacity," the system informed him. "Are you comfortable?"

  "I'm fine."

  "Very well. We are in position."

  A burst of raw plasma-based energy issued from the cannon in the craft's front underbelly and speared the nexus like a focused lightning bolt. The cruiser rumbled from the discharge. Magnetic blue tendrils of the titan's energy crept up the beam and absorbed with the source, but the cruiser held firm.

  "Estimated time of arrival on Valtaer is two units," the system said.

  To Adam, the voice drifted away. He felt the shift churn inside him and rise to the surface. It was purely instinctive and nearly impossible to suppress amidst the stress of rifting. Beneath his clothing, transmutable flesh hardened, formed its own organic armor in patches of scales over his pectorals and down along the contours of his torso. Reddish hues clouded his eyes. He breathed deeply one last time before the cruiser shot forward and disintegrated through the nexus.

  Silence met him, swallowed him. Numbed his senses. How long it lasted he could never tell, for in the moment of rifting, time disappeared and he touched complete oblivion.

  Then the sensation of his body returned, first with the nausea in his stomach. His atoms tingled as they settled back into place. Blinding but calming light lingered around him then slipped away in smoky wisps. Beyond the windows, a plane of ocean water spread for leagues beneath a blue sky illuminated by the V
altaerian daystar.

  In the wake of the cruiser, the brilliant slit opening of the rift remained suspended in the sky beneath three of Valtaer's nine moons, all paled by the daylight. A moment later it closed with a thunderous crack but the wall of energy remained, bisecting sea and sky and extending out infinitely.

  The sea air was still again.

  "How do you feel, my lord?"

  Adam gave the command for the chair to release him and willed back to his normal state. He wanted to vomit. "I've been through worse."

  The craft replied with a programmed sound like a small chuckle, reminding Adam of the living infrastructure of the engine. Living, though not really feeling. It was similar to its larger counterparts, run by a synthetic neural core, but massive transport vessels were built for greater tasks and therefore did not attempt to verbally socialize with their commanders or passengers. "Coordinates are set due north for Nall. Sensors detect a storm moving along the titan wall from the east, but the ship will be out of range before the turbulence reaches this area."

  "Thank you." Adam gave a silent snarl in mockery of the voice. He adjusted himself in the chair and propped on one elbow, fingering the shallow cleft in his chin.

  The sparkling water sped by just meters below the cruiser's belly.

  In moments land appeared and with it Nall, the largest city-state on Valtaer. Adam's old home. A new ache arose inside him and replaced that of the rifting sickness. Hundreds of white spires and domed structures shone in the mid-day light. The docks, with their various ships, presented a maze of puzzle pieces floating along the eastern band of shore.

  Air ships with metallic hulls glided in and out from all regions, but among them the small Nexian craft stood out. Adam could sense the thousands of dockside eyes cast toward the cruiser. Citizens moving along the outer edges of the city were stopping to look south. He heard their thoughts jumbled together in questions of why a Nexian vessel arrived.

  And whom did it carry? they wondered. He heard names, including his own. Educated guesses. The political intimations between the Valtaerian governments and the Nexian kept all the cities guessing, especially Nall with its tight Nexian ties. As a youth, Adam had become entangled in these politics to the point he'd come to hate the Nallian aristocracy and the Nexian regime. He had resented his own heritage, and his own father.

  But that was in the past. Now he sealed the past back up in its mental cell, remembered his now purpose in coming here.

  Kieriell, he thought.

  His son waited.

  With a shout, Kieriell Shyr'ahm bore down on his opponent with his shadow blade. Rage heated his cheeks, and the vertical slits of his pupils closed to fine lines in his blue eyes. The outer arc of the shadow's psionically manifested field came swinging toward Jarren Rashahn from the right. Jarren brought up his own shadow, undulating in the air and holding the shape of a standard sword. The two powers clashed and emitted the sharp scent of ozone as their edges quivered along each other.

  Jarren retreated in long, unstable strides, fighting to keep his balance. "Damn it, Kier!"

  "Come on, Jarren, you wanted a sparring match." Gritting his teeth, Kieriell made a vertical thrust with his weapon. Focused out from his fist, the psionic field was fashioned like a crescent moon with the curvature turned outward; he'd found that this shape provided as much defense as offense, and so far he was the only student who had learned to project his shadow into something other than the typical long blade.

  Jarren blocked the swing with his shadow held horizontally, and in that moment of concentration on one move, he forgot to keep his knees bent and flexible.

  Locking his blade onto the other, Kieriell held Jarren in check. Their eyes met, estimated each other through rivers of sweat. The hollows of Kieriell's sharp cheekbones darkened with the clench of his jaw line. Jarren's softer features, plastered with veins of blond hair, wrinkled up as he strained. His jade eyes dimmed then widened, flashing with the recognition that he was about to lose.

  Kieriell moved. He didn't mean for the kick to Jarren's knee to be so hard, but he heard the snick of bone fracturing, and then Jarren's cry as he dropped to the ground and his shadow collapsed down into his hand, disappearing back into the source from which it came.

  "Have I made my point?" Kieriell asked. The edge of his weapon hovered close to the fallen youth's face.

  "You're a deranged bastard, you know that?"

  "Maybe," Kieriell replied. "Just remember what a Nexian freak I am next time."

  Those words triggered a shift in Jarren's face, a look of recognition. His words. "How did you..." he started to say. "I didn't..."

  Kieriell took a deep breath and straightened, taking the blade away. An opalescent effect rippled through the field at his side briefly before he released it and the shadow withdrew into his hand, and even deeper, in his mind, he felt the subtle slip away from the psionic hemisphere, as if turning off a switch. He lingered, standing over Jarren, and then gradually what he'd done crept upon his conscience. He replayed the kick in his head, the sickening sound of the knee, and realized that Jarren wasn't getting up on his own. "Look, I'm sorry." He started to kneel and reach out a hand.

  Jarren took short, heated breaths. "Don't. Just get away from me."

  Kieriell took a step back and looked around. Ten other young faces stared back at him from a wide circle that gathered in the Ariahm School's central quadrangle. So he was the center of attention. Again.

  Silently he moved off from the scene and let two other students move in to help Jarren up. On the edge of the yard he met the strong gaze of Ahrden who wore the traditional earth-colored robes of a maven. The old man's intense green eyes could bring Kieriell to discipline where words failed. He cast his own gaze down before his mentor and frowned.

  "I'm sorry, Maven. I've disappointed you again." He wiped heavy locks of dark, damp hair back from his face and neck. Grass stains and dirt graced his tunic from a full morning of calisthenics and shadow blade training.

  Ahrden folded his hands. "You let your anger run you too much, Kieriell." His gaze darted over his pupil. "But you did well not to shift. I'm pleased that you're learning some control in that area. Tell me, though, why were you so angry at Jarren?"

  Kieriell swallowed, dropped his voice to a whisper. "I—" He looked for a way to shorten and obscure the word he was about to use. "I 'ported to the outside of his room last night. Before I knocked, I heard him and Taire speaking inside. They were laughing at me, at something that happened the other day." He expected Ahrden to ask him to explain what exactly happened, and his mind already raced for a way to explain as delicately as possible that he'd gotten almost painfully aroused just from watching Thalassa Rychaeris walk through the quad in her training uniform. He might have seen it as funny as well, but then his mind flashed with images of what it might be like to take her right up against the quad wall, and then he felt his skin tingling in his hands. He looked down to find his nails transforming into claws, and little beads of pearly scales forming in the creases of his fingers. Uttering a curse under his breath, he'd forced his imagination down into a deep, dark corner and turned and fled without an explanation.

  But Ahrden wasn't interested in the whys and wherefores. "Ah, so you were spying on him, and you used your talent against any better judgement that might be lurking in that thick head of yours."

  "But—"

  "Remember, boy. The evidence you bring against others can often be turned against you." He gave Kieriell a moment for that advice to sink in. "But go now, get cleaned up for first repast. We will discuss this more in my office after."

  Kieriell nodded and looked back at the quadrangle one more time. The other students had returned to their own one-on-one matches, while Jarren was seated in the shade of the nearby water tent. A healer was seeing to the swollen knee, working with a shadow technique of her own.

  Feeling one last glimmer of shame, Kieriell strode off in the direction of the dormitories located on the north wall of the
school. The white walls of the place surrounded two wards, the inner and the outer—the inner including the spread of the quad's physical training grounds.

  When he made the far wall of the quad and slipped out of sight through the open portal into the outer ward, he paused to take a breath. He looked down at his hands, which had been balled into fists. Slowly he opened them and felt his palms sting as his nails came free from the flesh. His talon-tipped fingers dripped with his own blood.

  Ahrden had been wrong. Kieriell could keep this much from his mentor. But to him, the truth shone as obvious as the deep red stains leaking between his fingers and speckling the ground before him.

  He had shifted.

  2

  Stepping across the threshold into his old home sent Adam's heart into his throat. He heard the servants' thoughts as word spread of his arrival. A young Valtaerian man in standard uniform took his cloak, and the tall glass doors of the entrance closed behind him. He stared past the sunlight of the foyer into the front corridor. Cool marble tiles on the floor. Milky walls lined with rich tapestries of Nallian blues, sea greens, and shades of violet.

  "Lord Asmirrius," the youth greeted, bowing his head.

  The formality startled him at first. This was not the way on Nex, to be waited on, royalty though he was. He was used to discarding his cloak on his own.

  "The lady is upstairs."

  Adam walked ahead hastily, straightening his shirt as he went, running fingers through his waist-length black hair to smooth it away from his face. He reached the wide stairwell and cleared the six flights up to the third floor before pausing on the landing to look into the wide room beyond. Cream-colored columns flanked the corners of a rectangular bathing pool, and arched windows dashed sunlight across the water to be reflected upon the high ceiling in ripples of gold.

  Wearing a robe of red silk, Jenesaazi leaned against a windowsill. Her tawny hair spilled around her slender shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face that Adam had been yearning to see in person for too long. He opened his mouth to speak. Waited. Savored the sight of her standing there in the sun before she stepped closer.