Ascendant Sun

by Catherine Asaro

  Kelric relayed the message and felt the grief from the others as they replied. Finally he said, All ships acknowledge, sir. Then he added, Captain Leefarer also says, “Thanks, Jafe.”

  “Very well.” Maccar exhaled. “Release your link, Commander. Then come up here.”

  Kelric disengaged from the weapons console and made his way to the command chair. When he reached Maccar, the captain toggled off the comm, giving them privacy.

  “You do understand what you’ve done, don’t you?” Maccar asked.

  Kelric met his gaze. “I got most of your people out of there, alive and free.”

  Maccar pushed his hand across his short hair. “I’ve no doubt that’s true. But we haven’t enough proof. Lady Xir will claim she sent us an escort to ensure our safe passage home. The Aristos have every reason for wanting to restart the war, and you may have just helped give them cause.”

  “If they had captured this ship,” Kelric said, “it would have created an even worse situation.”

  “Why?” Maccar asked. “Because you’re Naaj Majda’s brother-in-law? If you really are who you claim, why the blazes are you alone? Why aren’t you under Majda’s protection?”

  Kelric grimaced. “If I go to them, I could be signing a warrant for my imprisonment or death just as surely as if Traders captured or blew up the Corona.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s better you don’t know yet. For my safety and yours. We still aren’t out of Trader space.” Kelric had been considering what to tell Maccar. The captain had earned his respect. To build his power base, he needed people like Maccar. But now wasn’t the time to discuss that future.

  Kelric didn’t miss the irony, that even given their current situation, he was better off here than going to his own in-laws. Either way he risked a loss of freedom, but the Traders were less likely to consider assassination.

  Maccar studied him. “All right. Later.” Grim satisfaction leaked from his mind. “At least we got paid. We’re rich as rubies now.” He paused. “The less we have to drop out of inversion on the way home, the better. Can you hold the psilink awhile longer?”

  Although Kelric’s head ached, it was tolerable. “I think so.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Maccar drew in a breath. “With gods’ luck, we’ll get back alive.”

  7

  Phase Shift

  The flotilla skimmed through otherspace. It sailed a sea of slow photons that lagged behind their tachyonic siblings. The ships existed in a spacelike universe where light from stars behind them could never catch up, an eerie realm where charge, mass, energy, and perhaps even thought took on imaginary as well as real aspects.

  Two hours into their race home, Kelric’s link with the other ships slipped. Gritting his teeth, almost blind with the ache in his head, he strained to hold his bubble of psiberspace.

  The bubble popped.

  He groaned as pain stabbed his temples. Then he slid into gray nothing.

  Kelric opened his eyes to a familiar sight. Radiance bars. He was lying on his own bed staring at the ceiling. The bars glowed dimly. His temples throbbed, but only with a dull pain. Someone had medicated him enough to blunt his headache.

  “Ungh …” he mumbled. It wasn’t one of his more articulate moments.

  “Commander Garlin?” The voice came from nearby.

  Turning his head, he saw Mareea Gonzales, the ship’s medical officer, sitting in a chair by the bed. With her long, dark hair, heart-shaped face, and large eyes, she reminded him of his aunt Dehya. The Ruby Pharaoh.

  The dead Ruby Pharaoh.

  “How do you feel?” Mareea asked.

  Like a barbell fell on my head, he thought.

  “Kelric?” she murmured. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.” He wished she looked less like Dehya. It hurt in a way that had nothing to do with his headache. It also made him think of Eldrin, his brother, who was probably enduring far worse right now than anything Kelric had experienced.

  “Do you know what happened?” Mareea asked.

  “Bashed my brain,” he mumbled.

  Her face gentled. “It wasn’t quite that bad.” Then her smile faded. “Did you know the Kyle Afferent Body in your brain is damaged? That’s why you have headaches. Your KAB should send neural pulses only to your paras. But it’s sending them to other neural structures too. They’re telling you that you hurt even though nothing is wrong.”

  He started to shake his head, then winced and lay still. “I had to get us out of there.”

  Softly she said, “You took us over two thirds the way home. Now you can rest. We’ll talk more later.”

  With relief, he closed his eyes. Then he absorbed her words. We’ll talk more later. From doctors, that usually meant, I’m not sure you’re up to hearing this right now.

  He opened his eyes. “What else?”

  “Else?”

  “What else do you have to tell me?” Tiredly he said, “I know I’m dying, if that’s what you’re trying to avoid saying.”

  She pushed her hand through her hair. “I’m sorry.” Her concern washed up against him. “But you’ve had treatment recently, yes?”

  “On Edgewhirl.”

  “I can continue what they began. It’s only a temporary fix, though. You need more than I can do here.”

  He had already realized the ship’s medical resources were little better than the Edgewhirl hospital. The Corona had a reasonable facility for most of its crew. But not for him.

  “I’ve spoken to the captain,” Mareea said. “When we’re free of Trader space, we’ll take you to an ISC hospital.”

  “I need one equipped to repair Jagernauts and do Kyle surgery.”

  “Where do you suggest?”

  He thought about it. “Diesha. Eos city on the planet Foreshires Hold. Or the Orbiter.”

  Mareea shook her head. “Even in normal times we wouldn’t have clearance for those places.”

  “Maybe …” In normal times he could have arranged clearances. Eos hosted government offices and embassies from all over settled space. It was also home to Jacob’s Military Institute, which trained naval officers for the Imperial Fleet. The world Diesha served as ISC headquarters, its few cities and many underground installations all dedicated to the military. The Orbiter space habitat was home to part of Kelric’s family. It also supported the War Room, where his half brother Kurj had overseen ISC operations. With no psiberweb, the War Room could no longer maintain real-time contact with the ISC forces, but it would still be a major ISC node.

  Except Kurj no longer commanded there. For all his conflicted emotions about his half brother, he wished he could see Kurj again. So much remained unsaid.

  His sister Soz would have been the last Imperator to hold sway in the War Room. Soz. He missed her. He remembered more each day. Ever since the Corona had upgraded his systems, his spinal node, Bolt, had been repairing damaged neural sectors in his brain. In the process, Bolt was retrieving data he had lost after his crash on Coba eighteen years ago. None of it was vital to Kelric’s situation as Imperator Presumptive. No, what he regained had far more value: memories of childhood.

  He treasured one memory above the others. When he was seven and Soz sixteen, they had gone hiking in the Backbone Mountains. A sudden storm caught them. They had huddled together in a spine-cave, and she had held him in her arms, murmuring away his terror of the blue-white lightning and shattering thunder. The Imperialate remembered her as a war leader; he had known the woman-child who comforted a small boy. That day, as they clung together for warmth, their minds merged into a Rhon link. It had taken his fear and replaced it with warmth. Security. Affection. Gods, he valued that memory. He had never told her what it meant to him. Now he would never have the chance.

  “Kelric?” Mareea’s voice was soft in the dim light.

  He focused on the doctor. Not Dehya. Not Soz. Simply a kind stranger. He could say nothing about clearances now, while they were in Trader space. What if ESComm captured them? Maccar had
already guessed too much.

  “Maybe we can talk later …” His headache was making it hard to think anyway.

  Her voice soothed. “Yes. Of course.”

  Kelric let himself drift to sleep. He woke several times over the next few hours, always to see either Mareea or a nurse sitting by his bed. The medicine patch inside his elbow eased the pain. As his headache faded, Mareea lowered the dose.

  Finally he woke up feeling almost normal. He was lying on his side with one arm stretched out under his pillow. His blue sleepsuit wasn’t much different from his black spacer’s jumpsuit, except its soft, stretchy cloth felt more comfortable to sleep in.

  For a while he simply lay, gratified his head no longer hurt. His thoughts turned to the Third Lock. Soon the Traders would take Eldrin there. He feared for his brother. Kelric had ISC training and neural adaptations to help him resist coercion, but even then he doubted he could hold out against a sustained ESComm effort. As a member of the Ruby Dynasty, Eldrin had some protections, but as a civilian he had taken less training. At least he had a temporary reprieve. ESComm wouldn’t let him near the Lock until they secured it enough to ensure he couldn’t use it to escape, kill himself, or otherwise cause damage.

  What made it so maddening was that Kelric knew the Lock could be turned off. It required a Rhon psion. Eldrin. But unless ISC policies had changed drastically, which he doubted, Eldrin would have no idea he could make it play dead. Very few people needed to know that weakness of the Locks. Kurj had known, of course, as had Dehya, Soz, Kelric, their brother Althor, and a few top ISC officers. But most of those people were dead.

  Then Kelric realized that even if Eldrin had known, it would have done him no good. ESComm would work on him until they dragged out the information. In the end, they would get what they wanted. It would just take longer.

  So Kelric lay, wishing he could do the impossible. Get to the Lock. Deactivate it. Get out again. The Aristos could never restart its control center. They weren’t Rhon. Eldrin couldn’t answer their questions because he wouldn’t know answers existed.

  Right, he thought dryly. Take on Eube all by yourself. Turn off the Lock. Rescue Eldrin. Wage one-man war against the Traders. Might as well create a few universes while you’re at it.

  Kelric smiled slightly. He could at least return to his post. Moving with care, he sat up. A nurse was dozing in the chair by his bed, a husky woman in a bronze jumpsuit. She wore her brown hair coiled on top her head, and large hoop earrings dangled from her ears. Such earrings surely violated some ISC regulation. Kelric had to remind himself he was on a civilian ship.

  She opened her eyes. “My greetings.”

  He smiled. “And mine to you.”

  “You look better.”

  “Thanks.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What’s happened? Have we dropped into real space?”

  She shook her head. “Still in inversion. Maccar gave up trying to keep the flotilla together. We’ll re-form in Skolian space.”

  Kelric. frowned. “The ships will be spread out over millions of kilometers and several days.” He made a frustrated sound. “I should have stayed in the link.”

  “And injured yourself more? I don’t think so.” She gave him a satisfied look. “We’ll be fine. Got what we came for and we’re almost out of here. Out and out like a red moon.”

  Kelric smiled, a pun about “read” moons coming to mind.

  “What?” she asked.

  He blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “It sounded like you spoke. Your voice echoed.” She squinted at him. “And … I know this sounds strange—your face rippled.”

  Kelric started to answer. He stopped when the right side of her body blurred. Then it solidified again.

  Swearing under his breath, he stood up. Too fast. Dizziness hit him and he swayed, grabbing for the wall, which was out of reach. The nurse jumped up and grasped his arm, steadying him. Large and strong, she stood almost as tall as Kelric. He wondered if Maccar had assigned her to him. She was obviously also a bodyguard.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  Kelric nodded. “We’re piling up inversion errors.” He had seen the effect before. If a ship spent too long in complex space, it began to slip, different parts of the craft taking on different imaginary components, which meant they had dif ferent phases. It was no coincidence the errors caused ripples in space and time; people used complex numbers to describe wave phenomena because of their oscillatory nature.

  A warning gong went off, echoing in the air. Maccar’s voice came over the shipwide comm. “Prepare to reinvert. All hands strap down. This may be a rough one.”

  Kelric lay on his bunk and secured its webbing around his body. His nurse had just barely fastened herself into her chair when the ship began the drop back into normal space.

  Kelric’s mind fragmented. His brain was twisting through a Klein bottle, the 3-D equivalent of a Möbius strip. He clenched his teeth, fighting his vertigo. Their drop into real space was taking far longer than the usual one or two seconds.

  It stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Reality settled around them. Then another alarm went off—the call to battle stations.

  As Kelric yanked off his webbing, Maccar’s voice snapped out of the console. “Lieutenant Droxilhiem, is Commander Garlin conscious?”

  The nurse was extracting herself from her chair. “Aye, sir.”

  Kelric went to the console and activated the screen, bringing up Maccar on the bridge. “I’m fine, sir.”

  “Can you resume your duties?” Maccar asked.

  “Right away.”

  Relief flickered on Maccar’s face. “Report to the bridge. We came out in Eubian space—and we’ve got a squadron of ESComm Solos headed straight for us.”

  8

  Cooling Coil

  Kelric propelled himself into the bridge. Every screen was active, showing the panorama of space. No ESComm ships were visible to the eye. Yet.

  As soon as Maccar saw Kelric, he motioned to him. Kelric grabbed a cable and skimmed up to the captain.

  “We have a problem,” Maccar said.

  Kelric was doing his best not to imagine what would happen if ESComm caught the Corona. “Sir, I should be at my station.”

  “I’m afraid this has gone beyond anything you can do as weapons officer.” Maccar grimaced. “Sixteen Solos are moving in formation with us now, closing ranks. They’re well within firing range. It won’t be long before we can see them.”

  Kelric silently swore. Solos were the ESComm equivalent of Jag fighters. He well knew their combat versatility; as a Jag pilot, he had engaged Solos more than any other ESComm craft. Against sixteen of them, Maccar had no chance of escape.

  “How did they find us?” Kelric asked.

  “Either they got lucky,” Maccar said, “or ESComm has more squads available for the search than we expected.”

  “They’ve always had a lot of ships, especially if you count the raiders.”

  “They identified themselves as ESComm,” Maccar said.

  “I doubt they’re pirates. Even if they were, we’ve neither goods nor wealth for them to take. I sent the payment for our cargo with several of the frigates.” He considered Kelric. “If they find you, they won’t give a kiss in a quasar about the Halstaad Code of War. You’re more valuable than ten times my cargo.” He snapped his fingers. “They’ll take you like that.”

  Kelric swallowed. “Only if they realize what I am.”

  “Can you barrier your mind?”

  “I thought I was.”

  Maccar shook his head. “Commander, my Kyle rating is only one point eight. That doesn’t even qualify me as a minimal empath. And I can feel you. Gods, man, you’re like a nova.”

  Kelric felt a surreal numbness. “I’ve some brain damage. It interferes with my ability to shield my thoughts.”

  Quietly Maccar said, “Doctor Gonzales told me. Everything.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. Not if th
e Traders captured him.

  Maccar glanced out at space, at its stars and gleaming galaxies. No visible sign of the Solos showed yet.

  He turned back to Kelric. “Our best bet is to hide you in one of the engine bays. The magnetic fields around the Klein containment bottles might throw off their sensors. Marko Jaes is clearing out a compartment. He’s also rigging a shroud, something similar to what ships use for stealth runs.”

  Kelric’s hope stirred. Could they hide him? The Traders had no reason to look for anything unusual. Or did they? His attack on the frigates had been surgically precise despite the apparent lack of warning. It could have given him away. He might also have alerted the warlord whose mind he touched. He had no idea if the Aristo felt that contact or if his frigate survived the attack.

  Anatakala’s voice came over the bridge channel. “Captain, we’re getting the Solos on visual.”

  Kelric looked out at the screens. The Solos showed as bright slivers in space, distant and spread out, but growing in size as they converged on Maccar’s vessel. It wouldn’t be long before the ships had all slowed enough for ESComm to board the Corona.

  Maccar switched to the engineering comm channel. “Marko, are you ready?”

  Marko Jaes’s voice came over the comm. “All set, sir.”

  “Good.” Maccar turned back to Kelric. Then he extended his hand. The small white disk of a geltab lay in his palm. “It’s yours if you want it.”

  Kelric stared at the disk. If you want it. No. He didn’t want it. But that made no difference. When he took the geltab, it lay cool in his palm. In his mouth, it would bring death within seconds.

  Quietly Maccar said, “Gods’ speed, Commander.”

  The eight bays that housed the inversion engines were spread throughout the ship to minimize the chance of losing more than one at once. Kelric went to the fourth bay, a circular room that vibrated with a deep rumble.