by Julie Ishaya
The swollen organism within hung suspended in the air by cy-netic harnessing cables. Its various outer cortexes were divided by crevices through which brownish veins ramified. The overall construct was elliptical with some surface variations of blistery patterns. Thin fluid tubes drained in and out from one side into the other, flushing through necessary nutrients and other chemicals that kept it functioning. Links of nerve tissue and filament ran from the slick underbelly down through the gelatinous floor where they eventually pierced the rock and branched throughout most of the palace. The pulsing remained constant, eternal, with each swell of the organism's white surface. Its presence was accepted as that of any other being within the palace, from the emperor and his progeny to his officers.
The dim tabernacle buzzed with manual activity as well. A viewing screen operated on the far wall, and everyone's attention centered on a holographic map of Nex and the neighboring Shiv space. All of the Nexian bodies were represented in blue. Objects in Shiv space were represented in red.
General Kallian, already present, left his place behind one of the consoles and came to his lord's side. He gave a silent bow and straightened.
(General,) the emperor replied at the same moment the lift delivered the chamberlain who also stepped up to Asmodéus' side. The three observed a yellow spot of light blinking in the mid-sector of Shiv space.
(What do we have?) Asmodéus asked, frowning. He already knew it didn't look good.
"It appears to be a surge of psionic activity in the heart of Shiv territory, perhaps from their own neural core," Kallian replied. "We're already aware that the Shiv have a tendency to carry out bizarre experiments concerning their lack of rifting utilities, but this is something in a whole other category." Kallian gestured that they all move closer to the screen. He pointed at the yellow indicator and the uneven aura radiating out from it. "See how it emanates in various directions. It's unstable, whatever it is, and it's been growing for the past three hours."
Asmodéus fingered his chin. He watched how the light wavered around the edges, the aural field flaring one way then another. Smaller, numbered lights of red indicated an entire fleet of Shiv attack ships stationed throughout the territory in ten squadrons, each made up of one command ship and thirty small fighters.
(Their position patterns make no sense at all,) Asmodéus remarked.
"The Shiv fleet is known for tactical swarming in combat," the general added. "It's a psychological technique. That kind of mass activity could bring down one of our command ships by confusing the neural engine until it dropped the shields. However, I see no cause for this. They aren't engaging any foreign craft, and none of our patrols are out there in that sector."
(Are you going to do something, my lord?) the chamberlain asked softly.
Asmodéus' frown grew deeper as his gaze dropped to the control console across from him, and the lights became distant and blurry for an instant. The Shiv be damned if one of their so-called experiments had gone wrong. If this were not an experiment, however, that destructive psionic field might effect more than the Shiv. (Call the consulate,) he told the chamberlain. (The other orders should monitor this activity. The adversaries will try to seem indifferent, so my ambassadors must be notified to remain on duty and in direct contact with me.) The chamberlain nodded and returned to the lift. Asmodéus continued his watch.
"What about the crown prince, my lord?" Kallian asked.
(I'll notify Adam myself,) the emperor replied.
"I just spoke with him concerning security measures."
(Why did he have cause to speak with you over that?)
"He recommended that I increase the number of sentries at all palace entrances and at the primary lift doors to the floors above and below his son's chambers."
(Did he? And without speaking to me first.) Asmodéus didn't falter once in his fluidity although he felt slightly stirred. (He has his reasons, I'm sure.)
"Slight paranoia, if you ask me."
Asmodéus took one more look at the screen. (Don't concern yourself with Adam, General. Besides, he's going to be on his way to Hella soon. As I said, I want all of my ambassadors on duty.) He gave a curt nod to Kallian and walked back to the lift.
10
An entire dimension away from her husband and son, Jenesaazi Mahlharium turned in her sleep. Her hair spilled across her pillow onto the one next to it where Adam had lain his head just days ago. She imagined feeling him there, kissing her neck, his hand resting on her thigh.
But now he invaded her dreams. Her subconscious played over the alienation of him, cold, far away from her in that world where she could not survive.
White noise flooded around her. White light. Adam stepped into view and came toward her. "Hello, beloved," he whispered. He took her in his arms, simply held her.
She was immobile but aware now that this was no dream but a missive. She could not ask questions or fully interact. Only an adept with skills in telepathy could send a reply message back. The program ran as Adam had established it, like a pre-recorded hologram in her mind.
"I wanted to tell you of our son," he said. "He is having some difficulty adjusting to our ways here, but perhaps by some wonder he will pull through."
A flash of images, seen through Adam's eyes, swept before her, the most focused being one of Kieriell leaning his face against what appeared to be a window that looked on space. He was blowing breath clouds on it and running his finger through the condensation. A smile of enthusiasm lit up his face, and Jenesaazi found herself smiling, too, from deep within. The image faded, and in its place there was Adam, solemn, eyes fatigued.
"Jenny, I don't know how I ever expected him to fit in here. The loneliness deepens every time I speak with him. I only hope that you're right in your faith that Kieriell and I should find each other here.
"I miss you more than ever now. I see some of your delicacy in him, and I think back to when he was an infant and you held him while I merely watched. I realize that I was always watching, never really involving myself enough with him. Perhaps time here will allow me to correct that. Or perhaps time will have its revenge.
"I love you, Jenny." He leaned in to kiss her. His lips pressed hard against those of her dream self, and she felt his tongue play gently against hers. He withdrew, looking down and turning his head away as if to look at her would pain him. He disappeared back into the light, wisps of his cloak drifting behind, until they too, vanished.
All became black, and Jenesaazi opened her eyes to the empty space beside her in the bed. She remained still for a long time. Awake. Tasting him. More missives would come later, she knew. Perhaps one every few days, then they would begin to taper off, just as they had three years ago. She understood completely why. Ultimately, they became too painful for him and for her. The artificial touch held nothing to the real warmth of their physical bodies embracing, especially since she could not respond. Better to be patient for the true touch than settle for the illusions.
Jenesaazi closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep.
Kieriell spent the earlier hours of the next cycle in the library with the chamberlain, though he was eagerly anticipating his introduction to the place his new instructor had called the green room. Now alone in the map room, he propped on one elbow, his hand under his chin, while he stared at documents on Shiv technology.
His eyes narrowed on the organic design of a Shiv fighter craft. The thing was roughly shaped like a giant ray, one of those which glided through the waters off Nall. The outer surface, however, was made of a dense engineered shell that was spiny and ridged. The creature inside the shell had been of a race that evolved in the atmosphere of a gas giant. Harvested and exploited by the Shiv, they were now imprisoned in their cases and mounted with weapons systems. They were programmed to obey the psionic commands of their pilots, and were also propelled by a combination of psionics and tachyon-flow.
The younger, smaller creatures composed fighters and low scale shuttlecraft. As they grew, they were
removed to larger shells until they reached the scale of a command ship, and some of the command ships were large enough to house up to eight of the creatures, referred to as shaikin, in a colony.
Kieriell thought the design cruel and interesting at the same time, but his attention kept moving toward a nearby screen that displayed an image of the inner structure of the grid and the center pyramid. He was certain that he could see the planes and edges bowing out, losing the shape of the pyramid as if the energy therein were attempting to burst free.
Kieriell blinked.
The effect vanished and he wondered if something were wrong with his vision. He was only looking at a holographic map, after all, not the actual center of the grid. The chamberlain had left him to his personal studies an hour ago, and he refrained from summoning the advisor just to ask a question about that illusive center.
Kieriell scratched his temple. And something flashed at the back of his mind, sending him a sense of vertigo. He blinked again and shook his head. The disoriented feeling went away, and he tried to concentrate on the grid again. He blurred his vision and stared at the center, hoping to recapture the swelling effect as if working with an optical illusion. After a moment, he gave up. "Damn," he muttered. He was too preoccupied. He turned his attention back to the papers and the Shiv designs—the real lesson. The chamberlain had already covered grid geometry with him earlier before beginning the lesson on Shiv culture, or what little the Nexians knew of it.
Amazing, Kieriell realized, how Nex and Shiv space could sit so close together by interstellar standards and the two know so little about each other. The chamberlain had given him a lesson on a standard branch of the Shiv language, but that was purely for diplomatic purposes and didn't include any of the idioms or greater variations of ancient Shiv.
"Don't worry about it too much," the chamberlain had said.
Kieriell stumbled over the guttural pronunciations, stopping to complain that there was no way he would understand such garble if it were spoken to him.
"The Shiv know Nexian quite well, actually," the counselor commented. "They made it a point to learn our language thoroughly before they first appealed for unification."
"Then why do I have to learn their language?" Kieriell argued. "I could say more by just clearing my throat."
"Because," the chamberlain repeated, "they made it a point to learn our language, so we're doing them the same courtesy."
Rather than push his student to practice useful phrases, the chamberlain extracted the loose file on Shiv technology and left Kieriell to look it over himself. However, since the chamberlain had inadvertently left the screen on with the grid schematics, Kieriell found quick distraction.
Again he was looking up at the screen.
There was that bowing effect in the center again.
"Ah," he muttered, shoving the papers aside, "all right." He took up a stylus and grabbed a scrap sheet of paper. He began to sketch out the inner grid and write in the numbers of the surrounding coordinates. "No," he whispered, "no, something's wrong here." Disgruntled, he began to gather up the papers. Perhaps the atmosphere in the map room was distracting him, but there was no mistake in his mind that something about the Nexian depictions of the center grid was off.
With the uneven stack of work under his arm, he started back for his chambers.
Adam worked to clean off the desk after he finished organizing his papers. Nothing tired him more mentally than updating reports for the Hellan records. Along with the written documents, he provided a data crystal of the general Nexian activity log, including a brief note on Kieriell's introduction to Nex. He would have little time to think for himself when he returned to Hella, since he had been gone for more than five cycles. Again he considered a schedule that would allow him to spend time with Kieriell.
Then Asmodéus entered the office.
Adam sensed the seriousness of the visit but brushed it off, not looking up. (What is it?) he asked evenly, indulging his father's preference of communication.
(Adam Asmirrius, you are to attend your station on Hella until you are recalled to Dyss.) The command sounded more like banishment than a summons to duty.
"Excuse me?" Adam brought his gaze up and took a breath in premature outrage. Then he saw that Asmodéus stood cloaked in the official dress code. The emperor's mane hung free but his face was hidden behind a silver mask molded with the like details of his features. Adam's next priority was to simply pay attention. Quickly he stood and straightened the front of his tunic.
Asmodéus delivered his briefing. (There has been a psionic disruption on the Shiv home world. The consulate has been notified to gather. All ambassadors are to continue attending their assigned orders for now until this situation is resolved. Nex must, at least, appear to go about its usual routines.) He added with a gentler tone, (Kieriell should attend the meeting for observation as part of his education.)
Adam nodded. (I'll see to it.) Decorum demanded that he keep his gaze cast down, though he wanted to look up and probe past the eye openings in the mask and try to glimpse what his father must be feeling right now.
The emperor, however, left the room with no further comment. Adam moved through his chambers into the bed suite and pulled a fresh uniform from the wardrobe. A glossy black box of Nexian design sat on a shelf to the right, and he opened it for the first time since before the trip to Valtaer. The mask within lay on a cushion of deep blue velvet. Adam scowled at his own face staring back at him from the silver surface. He didn't want to wear it in front of Kieriell. After changing into his uniform, he strapped the cold likeness onto the side of his belt as Asmodéus often did with his mask. He pulled on a black long coat and let his hair fall free behind him as he hastened for his son's chambers.
He met Kieriell in the lounge and found books strewn about the couch along with a map of Nex. A tray of bread snacks and a decanter of juice sat on the floor along the fringes of grid scribblings.
Caught lounging with his reading materials, Kieriell scrambled to his bare feet and straightened his tunic. His gaze dropped and lingered on the mask strapped to his father's belt, detailed to the slight cleft in the chin and the hollows beneath the cheekbones. "You're leaving," he stated.
Adam tried to remain casual so that his departure would not seem such a forever thing. There was no way of predicting how long he would be away. "Yes," he finally answered. "I have a station to fill."
"I knew this would happen." Kieriell's voice began to rise with disappointment. He appeared to be suppressing the urge to stamp his feet.
Ah, Adam thought, there was the emotional stirring of the adolescent shift. Kieriell had not, blessedly, expressed it since they'd arrived on Nex, but sooner or later it was bound to show again. "I'm the Dyssian ambassador to Hella, Kieriell. There's nothing I can do about that."
"I know."
"I don't want to go, really, but Nex is up on end. There's been a disturbance in Shiv space."
"What is it?" Fascination flashed in his eyes.
So easily distracted, Adam mused. "Something psionic. I don't know the details yet, but Asmodéus has called a meeting of the orders. He wants you to attend and observe the meeting. The chamberlain will direct you."
"I get to watch the consulate in session?" Kieriell's fists knotted with his excitement. "Outstanding!"
Adam felt relieved that his son's interest in the affairs of Nex seemed to be budding. "I'm glad to hear you say that," he admitted. "The other lords will be arriving soon. Just stay out of their way." Adam smiled. "Behave."
"Not if you're going to talk to me like that."
Shaking his head in amusement, Adam turned to go. Then he couldn't resist throwing one more comment over his shoulder. "And remember not to go teleporting around the palace." He was answered by the soft slam of a pillow against his back, then he made a hasty retreat.
In his father's wake, Kieriell paced slowly, deciding what to do while he awaited the chamberlain's call for him to attend the meeting. He chose a un
iform and eased himself into the bath. Relaxed in the pool, he admired the view of the stars and the next closest order—which, he had learned from studying the map, was Daeanon, headed by the mantle of Lord Zahrrian. Even now he could see lights of activity near the base of Daeanon's pitted and cragged, four-sided pyramid shape, even though the asteroidal was thousands of units away from Dyss. The anchor beams emitted from its four points, while near the base point, a new shaft of light appeared. Moments later a ship emerged and the light closed behind it—Must have been a port opening, Kieriell thought. Appearing tiny at first, the vessel began to grow as it closed the distance, until he could see that it was no simple transport craft. This was one of the galleons he had heard about as a child: awesome ships with iridescent sail wings extended gracefully out from their sides.
This one had three sets of wings, each set graduating out further from the one before it and angling upward so that the entire form affected a bird gliding against the dark vacuum of deep space. Three small fighter craft known as raptors accompanied the galleon. These black-gray shelled vessels bore a single set of wings that angled down from their streamlined hulls and swept forward so that the tips of the wings displayed their weapons mounts. The wings on all of the craft, Kieriell had learned already, were actually panels that harvested energy from Arctus' solar winds. Helm windows that looked like deep greenish eyes slanted sharply forward along the front sides of the smaller craft, while the galleons almost looked like floating dark palaces.
When all the craft disappeared from view, and no further movement followed from Daeanon, Kieriell grew bored and climbed from the tub to dry off. Naked, feeling the cool air against his skin, he moved to stand before the window unit on the wall behind the bed. Here there was no view of an order. Only stars. Standing close to the glass, he imagined himself floating out there. Nothing to hold him in. No clothes. No body.