Spherical Harmonic

by Catherine Asaro

  Ragnar stood on the other side of the console, staring with that brooding gaze of his. Despite his barriers, I picked up his mood. Beneath his sardonic exterior he was actually worried about Eldrin—but he would never admit it, especially after last night. I wished I knew how to smooth the friction between them.

  Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift, settling into the receptive state I needed to explore psiberspace. The EI brain of Havyrl’s Valor rumbled in the background of my thoughts like a great heartbeat. I wondered how Eldrin’s brother Havyrl felt about having a battle cruiser named after him. ISC often used Ruby Dynasty names for its big ships. The Pharaoh’s Army had one called Eldrin’s Majesty, It embarrassed Eldrin. He once told me that if they had to use his name, he would have preferred a reference to his prowess as a fighter.

  In his youth, Eldrin had been more interested in sword practice than schoolwork. He was very much a son of Lyshriol. During its five thousand years of isolation, the Lyshriol colony had slid back to a more primitive culture, and much of that remained today, seventy-three years after we had rediscovered it. When Eldrin was sixteen, he rode to war and ended up killing several men, one with his bare hands. His people praised his courage, none realizing the experience had scarred him. He became violent at home, fought with men in the village, and trained all day instead of going to school. By Lyshriol standards, he had become a warrior of strength and bravery; by Skolian standards, he had turned into a deadly juvenile delinquent.

  Roca and Eldrinson couldn’t even agree if he was misbehaving, let alone what to do. But when Eldrin smashed up the school, pulled his sword on his tutor, and fought his own brother, his parents quit arguing. They sent him to a school on the Orbiter, with the hopes that exposure to Skolian culture would help him find balance in the conflicting demands of his life. The school specialized in students with learning disabilities, such as the Lyshriol genetic predisposition to illiteracy that Eldrin had inherited. His inability to read and write well had caused him constant frustration, especially because most of his siblings had no problem learning.

  Eldrin and I were married during his first year on the Orbiter. Angry and confused, he rebelled against everything, especially the Assembly. In their inflexible intention to force our marriage, regardless of the cost, they seemed to Eldrin like nightmare authority figures gone berserk.

  For a while Eldrin had wanted to take up fencing on the Orbiter, but he couldn’t use the standardized swords required in competitions. The Lyshrioli weapons he had trained with were designed for a hand that hinged down the back and had four opposing fingers but no thumb. Most of his siblings had five-fingered hands with a thumb, as did our son, Taquinil. It came from my side of the family. Eldrin had inherited his father’s hands.

  Then he discovered that his teachers valued his magnificent singing voice. The opposite had been true on Lyshriol, where the culture had survived for thousands of years on the prowess of its warriors rather than the voices of the bards who recorded its history. He had suppressed his interest in singing there, but on the Orbiter he plunged into voice studies. Always fascinated with music and its mathematical beauty, I loved to listen to him practice. It was one of the first times I had seen him truly happy.

  I still remembered his puzzlement at how Skolians treated him. He came from a culture with well-defined roles for men and women. Although it descended from a colony established by the matriarchal Ruby Empire, it had changed over its millennia of isolation. Aspects of the matriarchy survived, but they had become subsumed in the male-dominated culture, with the role of warrior shifted from women to men. In contrast, modern Skolia had never lost its origins. The overriding culture was egalitarian, for the most part, but the surviving remnants of its early history were solidly matriarchal, especially among the noble Houses, including a sexist tendency to value and objectify physical beauty in men above all other qualities. It had bewildered Eldrin that people praised his handsome face and well-built body yet never mentioned his martial skills.

  But regardless of anything else in the rest of his life, he had been a wonderful father to Taquinil. It had always pleased Eldrin that he, who couldn’t even read or write until he was seventeen, had sired such a genius.

  My thoughts intensified with the affection stirred by my memories. Now, as an adult, Eldrin had a sophistication that contrasted with the wild, brash innocence of his youth.

  Brash innocence? Picking up the tail end of my thought, Eldrin sent a mental snort. I was an insufferable, arrogant kid with only one thing on my mind

  No, you weren’t. I smiled At least not insufferable or arrogant.

  He sighed. Dehya, you see me through a rosy filter.

  I do not. I’m very pragmatic.

  Logical, yes. But you are, and always have been, a dreamer. His mood softened. I hope you never change.

  I watched him in his command chair, encased now in an exoskeleton, with a visor ready to lower over his face. You look like a starfighter pilot.

  He gave a mental laugh. Are you ready to go in?

  All Set. Then I thought, Ship attend.

  ATTENDING. The answer rumbled, coming from the EI that controlled the massive brain of the battle cruiser.

  Activate psi-gate.

  ACTIVATED.

  A psicon appeared, an elegant script Ψ, like a computer icon except that it formed in my mind. Then it vanished. In its place—

  Nothing.

  Silvery mist filled the universe. My alarm surged, but I pushed it down. This wasn’t nonexistence. It was only my interpretation of Kyle space without the structure of the web.

  I could so easily disperse into that nothingness, become no more than an echo in a nether universe…

  Dehya? Eldrin’s thought came like the tendril of a vine reaching through the Ψ gate.

  I’m here.

  What is there?

  Just mist. I floated, trying to find definition with its Swirling veils. Jaquinil? Are you here?

  No response.

  Dryni, can you call him too? It may giev him a fether through the gate into real spacetime.

  I will try. His thoughts flowed past me, swirling. I felt rather than heard him call to our son.

  Still no response.

  I let go and drifted farther. Mist suffused my mind…

  Flowing…

  Rolling…

  Mother?

  Jaquinil! Is that you?

  He formed out of the mist, my miracle child. Then he was standing there in his familiar gray pullover and dark trousers. He lifted his hand and the fog re-formed, creating the wooded valley where Eldrin and I lived on the Qrbiter. Misty trees swayed in a breeze and blurred mountains rose behind them.

  My greetings, Mother.

  My greetings, Jaquinil. Your father is here too. My joy Surged, but I held it in check, lest it swamp Taquinil, making us lose him again, Dryni? Can you reach us?

  I’m here. Eldrin’s thought caught with emotion. Taquinil, come home.

  My greetings, Hoshpa. Taquinil answered gently, as if to spare Eldrin and me pain. I am home. I’m free for the first time.

  How can yon be free? Eldrin asked. You’re a thought.

  True, Taquinil answered amiably.

  Eldrin tried another tack. You’re alone here.

  All my life I’ve been crushed by emotions, Taquinil thought. I’ve learned to cope, to avoid people, see my doctors, withdraw when I’m overwhelmed. But I don’t want to cope. I want freedom. He spread his arms. I have it here! I can let my thoughts encompass an entire universe and never be crushed. I feel like a man dying of thirst who has suddenly found an oasis.

  His joy filled the universe. The mist drew me. Freedom. No more onslaught of emotions. No more forever guarding my mind. No more politics. No more constraints. Freedom …

  Dehya? Eldrin’s words reverberated. Where are you?

  Somehow I managed to pull my mind back. Here.

  Taquinil’s thoughts came softly. Can you understand?

  I can. Sorrow diffused
my thoughts. It is incredible.

  Yes.

  Will you never return home? Eldrin’s sadness filled space.

  Perhaps someday. I’m not really gone. I Will always be here. I can help you, too.

  How do you mean? Eldrin asked.

  I can Weave threads here. He waved his hands and the mist braided into cords. I can’t make a psiberweb, but I may be able to help build one.

  Can you reach any nodes on Earth? I asked.

  Why Earth?

  Eldrin answered. We want to infiltrate their systems. So we can rescue your grandparents.

  I can help you do that.

  My hope surged. How?

  I’m mist. An irreverent gleam came into his gaze. I can fog up their systems. I have no firm links to any place in your universe, so I can’t do anything specific. But I can cause more generalized distortions. If I make enough trouble for the Allied networks, you might be able to sneak past some of their security.

  It’s worthy a try.

  Let me know… When you’re reeeeadyyyyyyyy…

  Jaquinil?

  After a painful silence, Eldrin thought, I think he’s gone. He paused. I’m getting a signai on my console. The telops want us to pull out.

  I didn’t want to go. We had a rare privacy now; none of the others could follow us here. Had the psiberweb still existed, the telops couíd have used it to reach us, but they couldn’t exist in psiberspace without support. Although Eldrin couldn’t either, he could link to me through the Ψ gate.

  It also meant he could pull me out. The mist changed bit by bit. Blurred lines became visible and thickened into consoles. Ever so slowly, the Node Room took substance.

  I became aware of aches all over my body. Doctors surrounded my chair, conferring in low tones. A similar group was gathered around Eldrin’s console. He looked half man, half machine, with control panels still sheathing his body. As I watched, they lifted his visor and his eyes slowly opened. He peered around with a bleary gaze.

  You look like I feel, I thought to him.

  I fell like hell, he grumbled.

  “Pharaoh Dyhianna, can you understand me?” A medic was at my side, an older woman with gray hair.

  I focused on her. “Why so many people here…” My voice rustled eerily, like dried leaves.

  “We had to pull you and Prince Eldrin out of—wherever you went.”

  I concentrated on her. “Why? We had only just started.”

  Another medic spoke, a slender man. “It’s been thirty hours, ma’am. You became, well—translucent.”

  I shivered, wondering if that would keep happening for the rest of my life, until one day I faded away altogether. “He found what he needed,” I murmured. Taquinil could finally be at peace. But even knowing that, I grieved, afraid he would attenuate in that strange place until he became indistinguishable from the mist that gave him freedom.

  In the other console, Eldrin sat while the medics worked on him. We need to trust that he knows what he is doing.

  I know. But it is so hard. I tried to smile. A muscle in my cheek twitched and I ended up grimacing.

  Laughter came from his mind. That was lovely.

  Pah. I glared at him.

  The slender man was speaking to me. “He? Do you mean you found someone?”

  “Taquinil…” I lifted my arm, bemused by how heavy it felt. Shifting my gaze to the doctor, I spoke in a stronger voice. “I need to talk to Admiral Casestar.”

  But as I watched him contact Jon on his wrist comm, disquiet spread over me. I knew we would soon face choices that challenged the power structure of our civilization.

  19

  Diffraction

  We strode down a corridor with cobalt blue walls, darker blue hatchways, and white light-bars embedded in the ceiling. Eldrin and I walked together, with Jon to Eldrin’s right, Ragnar to my left, and Vazar on Ragnar’s other side. A slew of aides went before and behind us, as well as my infernal bodyguards.

  “We can’t assume Prince Taquinil will always be able to help,” Ragnar continued. “If we wait, we might lose this opportunity.”

  I made myself speak. “The longer we take, the more uncertain his help becomes.” It hurt to acknowledge a day might come when we could no longer reach him, but denying that possibility wouldn’t make it disappear.

  Jon shook his head. “How could a human mind become a waveform? I can’t even imagine it.”

  “Have you ever seen the diffraction pattern from a circular aperture?” I asked.

  He motioned at the aide on his other side. “Lieutenant.”

  She unrolled her palmtop and worked on it until a holo formed, floating above the screen, glowing soft green.

  Jon peered at the image, then gave me an incredulous look. “Your son has become that?”

  “Yes.” A strange answer, but I had to give it. “His actual form is probably more complicated, but that gives you the basic shape. The peak is the main part of his personality. The ripples are satellite thoughts, the sort that tug the edges of your mind. The farther away from the peak, the less direct the thought.” Before now, I had always found that waveform a thing of beauty, its shape evoking a graceful, perfectly symmetrical mountain. Now it only conjured sorrow.

  Jon considered the holo doubtfully. “It’s hard to imagine.”

  “He can help us beat the defense systems at Earth,” Eldrin said.

  On my other side, Ragnar snorted. “How? He’s a credit-counter. Not a security expert.”

  “Not a credit-counter,” I said. “An economist. He develops models to predict economic futures.” Taquinil had become so adept at it, the dismayed Office of Finance had passed a law forbidding him to work financial markets, lest he destabilize the economy of some world.

  “No one doubts his abilities,” Jon said. “But they aren’t in military intelligence or security.”

  “Normally, no.” I had no doubt Taquinil could do what he claimed, but given that I was his mother, they might not consider me the most objective judge. “However, he has all of psiberspace to work with. So he has its power at his disposal as well.”

  Vazar spoke. “Even if he could help us infiltrate Earth’s defenses, it wouldn’t be enough. We have to get a ship to the planet, do our rescue, and get out again.”

  “We have four thousand ships,” I pointed out.

  “Earth has prodigious defenses,” Jon answered. “They can easily withstand our measly four thousand ships.”

  “We’re not going in to fight,” I said. “Just put on a show.”

  He gave me a dour look. “We will never get into the system to put on anything.”

  I smiled. “Ah, but Admiral, they can only stop us if they find us.”

  “You plan on hiding four thousand-ships?”

  “ISC hid the Radiance Fleet.”

  He wasn’t buying it. “And no one knows what happened to them.”

  “That’s because the webs are down,” I said. “But we’ve picked up enough messages from scout ships to know the Radiance Fleet destroyed the Trader capital. That means they penetrated Trader space the way we want to penetrate Allied space”

  Jon shook his head. “You need the psiberweb to hide ships that way.”

  I knew he was right. To conceal the ships, we would have to deal with three strange universes: psiberspace, Haver-Klein space, and superluminal space. In psiberspace, thoughts defined existence. In Haver-Klein space, charge took on an imaginary part, which made it possible to store more antimatter in the fuel bottles. To reach superluminal space, we added an imaginary part to our velocity, circumventing light speed. The Radiance Fleet had used all three: they put most of their ships in giant fuel bottles and twisted them into Haver-Klein space; they used the psiberweb to communicate with the hidden ships; and they traveled at superluminal speeds to reach Trader territory.

  “We need to rebuild the psiberweb,” I said.

  “We can only do that if you have access to a Lock,” Vazar said. “Or maybe a Triad Chair. We have neithe
r.”

  At the word Triad, Eldrin’s pace slowed. I understood. My links to the Triad were… drifting. No pain, just a gentle ending. An ache filled me. I couldn’t forget Eldrin’s nightmare or my dream of a triangle that became a line. Had Eldrin’s father left the Triad? I couldn’t imagine life without him. He had been more like a brother to me than a father-in-law. I had to accept that he would die someday, but what my logic knew, my emotions denied.

  “The point is moot,” Jon was saying. “We haven’t the go-ahead to invade Earth.”

  With no warning, I stopped. Everyone else halted, their response delayed by a few seconds, so aides and Jagernauts surged around me like water around a rock in a river. I regarded Jon with a steady gaze. “You have my go-ahead.”

  The silence stretched out. Jon watched me, his mind shielded.

  Then Ragnar spoke in his gravelly voice. “That should be sufficient”

  That should be sufficient With those four words, spoken in public, he gave his support to the Ruby Dynasty—over the Assembly and ISC.

  Jon raked him with an appraising stare. Then he turned to me. “I must consider this.”

  He continued down the corridor, his face closed and unreadable.

  “He won’t do it,” Eldrin said.

  I paced the living room of my suite. “We can’t be sure.”

  Ragnar was leaning against a console by the wall. Eldrin stood across the room, leaving plenty of space between them. I had refused to let my Jagernaut bodyguards enter. I had no idea where their loyalties lay.

  Vazar was standing by one wall, her body a dark figure against a bright holo-panel of Parthonia, the world where I had spent my childhood. The image showed Selei City, which had been named for my mother. Elegant manor houses were set far back from boulevards, screened by trees with graceful, curving branches hung with pale green streamer-leaves and white blossoms. Vazar blocked the center of the holo, where the gold spire of the capitol building rose into a lavender sky.