The Kinship of Stars

by Julie Ishaya

  The plasmic beam issued from the craft, pierced the wall with pulses of white energy. Kieriell looked straight into the light ahead, watched it grow across the wall in tendrils reaching in every direction. His insides clenched. A thread of black light sliced down through the center of the pulse. It quivered then began to dilate from its middle point.

  In his anxiety, Kieriell found it reminded him of a giant vagina. It opened up for him like a gateway to rebirth. A re-entering of the womb. But the womb of what? His thoughts faded into so much chaotic gibberish. The womb of the universe? Did the universe even have a womb? What could it look like? Something inside him welcomed the vision. Something else feared it. He realized that it somehow aroused him, and when the ship convulsed forward and shot into the rift, he clenched back a scream as the craft reached the opening and then felt his mouth open, his throat expand as he gave voice to his fear.

  White light flooded the cabin and carried silence with it.

  Kieriell found awareness of his voice again before anything else. It seemed that his consciousness had faded, everything put on hold for an instant infinity. All of him faded. Like his father had said, his molecules had been annihilated and reformed right down to his vocal chords, which returned to existence still issuing the same long, loud wail that he'd let out at the last second. It died down as he realized that the storm had vanished. There was no thunder, no lightning, and no wall or sea, only—space?

  He stared into the void beyond the window, felt tears sting his face. Warm salty mucus ran from his nose, leaked into his mouth. Nausea swept from his stomach up into his throat. He had the briefest moment to note that the security bonds no longer held him down. He bolted from his chair, fell to his knees and vomited, coughing up sour bile and shaking.

  "I told you it wasn't easy on the physical body," Adam said softly.

  Kieriell remained on his knees. "Why aren't you sick?" he stammered.

  "I'm used to it, not that I couldn't stand to puke as well."

  Regarding the mess he had made, Kieriell felt his face flush.

  "Shouldn't have had that second meat roll at first repast?" Adam said, and Kieriell glared to realize his father was reading his thoughts. "Don't worry about it." He gestured at the floor. "The craft was designed for self cleaning."

  Kieriell looked down and watched as the ridges in the floor literally closed in around the vomit and absorbed it away. "Oh, that's nice," he grumbled, reaching up for the arms of the chair. Another wave of weakness and nausea struck and he had to drag himself into the sitting position. "Why don't you just write me a guide book? It would make all of this shit a little bit easier."

  Adam brushed aside the vulgarity. "Learning by experience is far better than any guidebook."

  "I see why you don't come home anymore." Kieriell slouched down in the seat, sputtering an exhausted sigh. "If I had to cross through that all the time—" he stopped, looked away.

  "That is not the reason I haven't come home," Adam replied in a manner of correction, obviously trying not to raise his voice. He steepled his hands over his lap and settled back. Looking out the window, he quickly drew Kieriell's attention away from matters of family controversy. "There," he said, pointing to the far horizon. "There it is."

  Kieriell turned to see out the opposite window, and the foreboding splendor of Nex captured him.

  The nine major asteroidal orders were scattered around the reddish gas and brilliant center of Arctus. The light cast off the multiple surfaces of the asteroids and their sister fragments. Each rock glittered with tiny lights of its own, and each had a series of deep blue shafts of rays shooting from various loci on its surface.

  "See the titan lines," Adam said, pointing.

  "Yes." Kieriell began to forget that his stomach hurt. He eased forward in his seat and leaned over the armrest. The titan lines to which his father referred spread in vast plains of blue iridescent energy, each expanding into space infinitely. He knew little about where titan energy came from, only that its electromagnetic force, harnessed in the right manner, opened gateways into other dimensions, as Nex connected with Valtaer and several hundred other co-existent worlds where it wasn't always visible or as concentrated as it was here on Nex or on Valtaer.

  From this perspective Kieriell could see three titan lines. One crossed Nex space at a horizontal angle above the realm. Another in the distance rose up vertically to connect with the other. The third also ran vertically and existed far across the open plain from the second.

  "You can't see it from here," Adam explained, "but we've just come through the nexus of two titans. It holds the doorway between the Nexian and the Dévan systems. We've completely left the dimension that holds Valtaer. The nexus extends many light years in each direction from Nex." He indicated past Kieriell's window. "Out there, do you see where there are almost no stars?"

  "No stars?" Kieriell pressed his palms against the glassy surface and leaned closer, perplexed by the notion of no stars. "Is there a black hole out there?"

  "Good guess," Adam commented. "That is Shiv space. They exploited the energy of their surrounding star systems many millennia ago. Their world is still stabilized by the gravity of a single small star. You can see it from here, but there are also several black holes on the outer edge of that system; they are all distant enough not to effect the more abundant craft activity, but their gravity absorbs the light of the remaining stars, making them virtually invisible from this sector. Most of their resources have been tapped out, and they don't have the means to harness the black hole energy. In earlier centuries, they began appeals for unification with Nex to receive aid. The Nexian consulate discussed the issue and allowed the Shiv a position at the table. They've been under close watch to determine if their behavior is worthy, and every half-century a ballot is held on the consulate to determine if unification will happen. All of the ballots have failed so far. The next ballot will be held in three years."

  "How many ballots have been held?" Kieriell asked, realizing how little he knew about his half-home world, and how much less he knew about the Shiv.

  "Four. The last one was during the reign of the last Shiv kai."

  "So the Shiv had better start laying some serious kisses on the emperor's ass, huh?"

  "Kieriell!" Adam gave an amused but serious half-smile and shook his head. After a moment he continued. "The Shiv also have their own rift-tech. It's an older, possibly more unstable technique, and they haven't mapped very many universal rifting points in recent ages. That tends to keep them in one place."

  Kieriell resettled and turned back to the window at his left and the view of Nex. "What are all of those lights coming out of the rocks?"

  Again Adam looked amused but sober. "Those are anchor beams. None of the Nexian orders orbit close enough to Arctus to maintain a stable pattern with the star's gravity field. Those particle beams weave a net that keeps them all at constant distance from each other."

  Kieriell drew ever close to the window. "Where are we going?"

  "Dyss," Adam said, and pointed at the largest and most central astroid. The craft sailed closer until the sheen of the rock's surface became clearer. Flecks of lights peered out from the center of a yawning cavity along the facing side. One of the anchor beams glowed soft blue from its emission point just on the edge of the opening.

  The shuttle cruised over the beam and into the shadow of the cavity where the glare from Arctus receded and Kieriell could fully focus. The lights were part of the palace, which became more defined tucked into the deepest crevice. Black spires came into view outlined by a pattern of lights spiraling up around each tower, the whole appearing as a draping of tiny stars over a jagged crystalline cluster. At the heart of the cluster arose a dome, a bubble emerging from the fanged mouth of some dark beast. The dome's surface was illuminated from within by a dirty, aqua light, while the outer surface gleamed wetly in the starlight.

  "I never said it was pretty," Adam commented quickly.

  "No," Kieriell agreed, "
it isn't." But it was both beautiful and dreadful, this obsidian palace floating in space. The craft stopped in its path and glided sideways until its nose aligned with a lower section of the cavity far below where the palace dome and spires began.

  "Engine, circle the colony," Adam told the craft.

  "Yes, my lord."

  Kieriell pressed deep into his seat and braced his hands on the ends of the armrests. Ahead, the cavity wall reached a giant aperture door. Like an iris it widened, spilling light over the edges of rock.

  Kieriell felt small and inadequate as the craft droned straight into the center of the opening. The walls of a massive tunnel stretched on, rimmed with light rings built into the rock to guide entering craft. Again he had the sense of being swallowed into a giant womb.

  "Now listen," Adam said, sitting up and affixing his son with a grim stare. "I sent a missive last night from Valtaer to warn the emperor that I would not be returning alone. You're expected, and the chamberlain should have done everything possible by now to prepare for you.

  "You will soon meet your grandsire. Don't be afraid of him. Asmodéus has his fearsome qualities, but you will discover many of them to be merely facade. You will address him as Lord Grandsire so that anyone else present will recognize your position as prince, and you will use 'my lord' when you address others of high station as well. It's that simple. You will not find the use of titles such as 'Your Majesty' or 'Your Grace' here such as you do on Valtaer. Unlike in the big houses of Nall, you will find virtually no servants but kitchen and laundry staff, but that is it. Otherwise, every Nexian attends and cleans up after himself. You will not be arrogant. You will maintain respect. Understood?"

  "Yes."

  "And be careful what you think. The walls of the palace are structured with a hidden neural net."

  Kieriell blinked. "Say again?"

  "Basically," Adam explained, "the walls are psionically active. The neural structure connects to a central brain core. We call it the tabernacle. Shiv technology has some similarities. One traitorous thought within the palace can bring the highest security down on you. In time you'll grow at ease with the system. It does not have a personality program like this shuttle's engine, so it won't remind you it's even there. For now simply try not to think about it."

  "Great," Kieriell uttered, every last nerve standing on end with the added thought, The palace is alive. Then he sat up, eyes fastening on the view as the tunnel opened into something far greater than the palace's exterior. The caverns beyond the tunnel spread wide and winding for an obviously great distance, teaming with light activity over geometric structures of towers and domes linked by dark, tubular bridges. Above it all, an inverted dome built into the ceiling shone with artificial daylight. Not an intense light, but enough to cast gold highlights off the buildings. Enough to give a sense of warmth. It seemed more like an actual city and less a colony on a rock of a space station. Varying sizes of craft lights moved about the deeper regions of the enclosed metropolis.

  The craft veered low and circled half of the cavern, tilting slightly to provide a better view of the intricate glowing lines of streets. The bridges formed a web work as they crossed over each other, one after the other reaching deeper into the labyrinthine crevices.

  Then the craft straightened and climbed toward a wide platform of rock ledge on the far wall of the cavern overlooking the entire cityscape. Kieriell noticed other lights in the cavern wall, those of windows, and a few tower structures built right against the rock.

  The craft lit down on the platform amid a pattern of circular lights. Kieriell still stared out the window at the valley of life.

  "Welcome to Dyss," Adam said softly. "Are you ready?"

  Kieriell looked at his father with lingering uncertainty. "Yes," he replied, while he shook his head no.

  5

  Kieriell was accompanied by his father and two officials of the court, who had been waiting to greet the craft's arrival. Lord Chamberlain of Dyss led the small procession through the dim passage of steps that rose up from the landing pad, while Adam kept to Kieriell's left and General Kallian, head of the Imperial Guard, flanked his right.

  Three guards brought up the rear and appeared to be weaponless, so Kieriell guessed they probably relied on shadow weapon abilities. He admired the uniforms, which involved deep blue tunics with bulky sleeves worn under black form-fitting jerkins. The ornate shoulder guards were obviously more for ceremony, with a half-cape swept over one shoulder. The guards had short hair, while General Kallian's reddish hair was worn at shoulder length to express his station.

  An inky hooded cloak trailed behind the chamberlain. Kieriell had wondered since he disembarked what the chamberlain's face looked like, for it was hidden behind a silver mask so detailed in design that at first Kieriell thought the elder Nexian had silver skin.

  The passageway stretched on at a subtle climb. Small, jagged openings in the left wall gave glimpses of the colony lights below. Footfalls made a heavy rhythm until the steps reached a landing into another corridor. Two double doors stood at the end.

  Adam gestured Kieriell on. The doors led into a lift. After stepping into the cool compartment, the group sped upward for countless levels. Wedged between the others, Kieriell began to estimate their various heights. Like Adam they were all tall, particularly the general and the chamberlain.

  The lift ride ended and the doors hissed open into an arcade lined with tall columns of a vine pattern twining up to the ceiling. Beyond the columns the room was mainly open space with a black floor so polished as to resemble the surface of a still pond under moonlight. Unable to contain his wonder, Kieriell stepped ahead and moved into the opening. His gaze followed forever the distance of the floor over to the opposite side of the arcade, and then up. Up the rough, undefined walls to the underside of a huge dome, and it took him another moment to realize that he was now standing under the same great dome which he had already seen from outside where it appeared no more than an aqua-hued bubble. The view through the surface was one-way, and now, able to see the surrounding stars and a fragmentary glimpse of the other asteroidal orders below, Kieriell opened his mouth to form a silent exclamation. From here he could also make out a section of one of the anchor beams. The bluish light shaft extended from somewhere to the far right of the dome and bore out into the stars, fading into the distance.

  Swallowing, Kieriell looked down again and surveyed the entire room. To the far right of his entry, three steps led up to a dais on which an empty chair stood in the center. A long blue drapery graced the wall behind the huge seat, thus aiding the distinction between the fine piece of furniture and its rugged enclosure.

  The straight-backed seat was flanked by two immense arm rests and backed with a design of leather wings sweeping up from the center of the back and folding down again. When seated there, Asmodéus would cast the illusion of being a winged creature.

  "The throne of Nex," Adam said.

  Kieriell startled. He hadn't heard his father's approach over the shining floor.

  Adam bent over to retrieve something. "You dropped your things."

  Kieriell absently took the duffel and remained staring at the lonely chair. "Where is he?"

  "Lord Asmodéus is occupied," the chamberlain informed them, stepping closer. His voice bore a deep purr, steady in its tone, while Kieriell still felt uneasy toward the mask. The hood dipped low over the forehead, completely flooding the empty eyes in shadow. Something that might have been an empathic projection of amusement touched Kieriell. "I am sorry that my face is hidden from you, my young lord," the chamberlain said. "As part of the Nexian code of decorum, I must wear my mask before the public due to my position. The other lords wear their own masks if and when duty calls for it. Even under the protection of a psionic shield, emotions are still betrayed on the face and prove a weakness."

  Kieriell understood, but then something else reached him. A small wave of—sadness? It withdrew before he could study it, and when he looked to the figu
re of the chamberlain for some explanation therein, he found it already receding.

  "His chambers have been readied, my lord, just as you requested in your transmission," the mask said to Adam, who nodded.

  "When will Lord Asmodéus appear?"

  "He is evaluating new initiates to the Imperial Guard elite. However, a repast will be served soon to greet your son's arrival. His Lordship will attend."

  "When is that?"

  "In two hours. The young lord will wish to see his chambers I assume?" A silver glance flickered at Kieriell from beneath the hood.

  "I will show him," Adam replied. He turned, back straight with authority. "General Kallian, you are relieved."

  Kallian simply nodded and turned, gesturing for the guards to follow as he marched back through the arcade and into the lift.

  "May I take leave, my lord?" the chamberlain asked.

  "Yes, by all means." Adam shook the chamberlain's hand and then returned to Kieriell's side.

  "What's with him?" Kieriell asked as soon as the cloaked figure had left the room.

  "Shhh," Adam glared. "Not here, not now. There will be time for your questions later. I'll show you where you'll be staying. Then if there's time left I'll show you around."

  "Definitely." Kieriell hugged the duffel to his chest. He glanced around the room again, took in the loneliness of it. Then he remembered what Adam had said about the foundation having nerves. The follicles at the back of his neck tingled. In an attempt to forget about the walls, he thought of the formalities he had already encountered. "I feel incredibly underdressed."