As Jeremiah gave his results to Saje, he glanced at the evolving holomap that showed the ship's progress. He could only imagine what it must be like to hurtle through the jagged Teotecs with neither maps nor a beacon. The ship obviously had sensing equipment or it wouldn't have made it this far. But it was designed for space rather than planetary maneuvers, and the savage winds in the upper Teotecs would tear a less sturdy craft apart. The ship had slowed more, but it was still coming in too fast.
“Viasa, I need maps,” the pilot said.
“I'm sending what I have.” Jeremiah prayed he had derived the right transform; otherwise, he could be sending the pilot to his death.
“Received,” the pilot said.
Khal spoke. “Jeremiah, what can we do to help?"
“Guidance.” He studied the holomap. “He's about one span north and two spans above Grayrock Falls. What's the clearest passage through there?"
“He must avoid the Heska Cliffs,” Khal said. “He should go higher, one span, and to the east one third."
Jeremiah told Saje. Then he asked, “Dalstern, did that come through?"
“Part of it,” the pilot answered. “I pull up."
Watching the holomap, Jeremiah spoke to Khal. “He's up about half a span. Will he make it over the cliffs?"
“He must go higher,” she said. “If he can't, he should go east two spans. A small pass is there."
Jeremiah input the data and watched the holomap change. “That looks good—ah, no!"
The map fragmented. In that same instant, the pilot said, “Viasa, we have problem."
“We too,” Jeremiah said. “Saje, what happened?"
“You only gave me a partial transform,” Saje said.
Jeremiah swore under his breath. What had he missed? Struggling to focus his mind, he turned back to his dice. But his mind kept coming up with images of the ship hurtling toward them, breaking his concentration.
“Viasa, I need set-down coordinates,” the pilot said.
“We're working on it.” Jeremiah glanced at Khal. “Where should he land?"
“West of Viasa. Away from the evacuation."
Jeremiah stared at her. “The west is sheer cliff face.” He was painfully aware of time passing. If he couldn't solve the transform problem, the pilot would have little control over where he landed—or crashed.
Kev spoke. “The Calanya parks. That will take him away from the city without sending him over the cliffs."
As soon as he saw Khal's dismay, he understood: to let a ship destroy the Calanya would violate her sense of decency at a level so basic it was part of her. He could almost feel her weighing the pilot's death against that destruction.
Then she blew out a gust of air. To an aide, she said, “Double-check that the Calanya has been evacuated.” As the aide took off, Khal turned to Jeremiah. “Send him to the parks."
“It's a small area for a ship without a map,” Jeremiah warned. “If he misses, he could hit the Estate."
“We must protect the evacuees,” Khal said. “The Estate can be rebuilt. People cannot."
Khal's aide came striding back to them. “The Calanya is empty. The only person still there is a guard captain."
“Good.” Khal motioned to her aides. “All of you, go with the evacuation. Let them know the situation and make sure they take cover in the lower end of the canyon. Even if the ship hits on that side of Viasa, it probably can't penetrate so narrow an area."
Intent on his dice, Jeremiah barely heard the aides leave. As he lifted a platinum cube, Kev said, “Wait.” He reached forward and moved several pieces. “Try this instead."
Jeremiah nodded, a new pattern evolving in his mind based on Kev's moves. He continued to play. Every second that passed felt like the warning tick on an antique clock. The Observatory stood in the path of the incoming ship. If the vessel hit it, the impact could sheer off the dome and destroy everything within—including them.
He tried to think faster, but it only made his Quis frantic. Kev made another move, then changed his mind and tried a different one. Jeremiah picked up his intent and rearranged several structures. He still couldn't find the missing part—couldn't make it—
“Viasa, I have no more time,” the pilot said. “I guess coordinates."
Suddenly Jeremiah saw the pattern, beautiful and elegant. “Dalstern, I have it!” He gave Saje the new equations as fast as he could trace a light stylus across the screen.
“Received.” Relief washed the pilot's voice. “Suggest you get out of there. Over and out."
“Over and out,” Jeremiah said, jumping to his feet.
With Khal and Kev, he raced across the observatory. They sped down the stairs and out into emptied halls. Then they ran out into the starlit Calanya parks. Wind pummeled them with fists of air, and thunder roared above the keening wind.
No, not thunder. A starship engine.
Jeremiah picked up his pace, then realized he had left Khal and Kev behind. As he whirled around, Khal stopped, staring at the sky. “No!” she shouted.
The ship hurtled out between two peaks high above Viasa, making a giant shadow in the sky. It wasn't big for a starship, but compared to the Estate it loomed huge. Its engines roared in the wind.
Khal took off with Kev at her side, her hand reaching out to Jeremiah as if she sought to protect both him and Kev against these forces so far beyond her control. As they raced for the Estate, the ship skimmed over the city, dropping at an alarming rate. It snapped the spire off a tower.
They slowed then, knowing they had no chance of making it to the canyon in time. Either the ship would miss them or it wouldn't. As they stared upward, they backed toward the Estate, more by instinct than because it would do any good.
The ship grazed a roof, smashing its crenellations. Then it cleared the Estate, dropping fast. It rammed down into the Calanya parks, still skimming forward. In a scream of high-pressure composite on bedrock, it tore up ground cover and blasted trees as it shot across the parks.
With an explosive crash, the ship slammed into the windbreak—and the gigantic wall shattered like glass. Crumpled but intact, the craft came to a shuddering stop, jutting over the cliff. In a nightmare of slow motion, it began to tip over the edge.
Without pausing to think, Jeremiah ran for the ship, pushed from behind by the wind as he dodged scorched areas of the parks. By the time he reached the craft, he had far outdistanced Khal and Kev. He pounded his fists against the unyielding hull. “You have to get out!” he shouted.
A hand closed around his arm and someone swung him around. Even before he looked up—and up—he knew it couldn't be Khal or Kev. Neither had such towering height. In the starlight, he couldn't see much more of the man than his massive size.
The Skolian released his arm and spoke in Spanish. “I've come for a man called Jeremiah Coltman."
Jeremiah took a breath. “I'm Coltman."
The Skolian took his chin and turned his face into the starlight, one way, then the other. Then he let go and pulled up Jeremiah's arm to look at his armbands. “So. You are. We must hurry.” Before Jeremiah could respond, the man grasped his arm and took off, pulling Jeremiah with him.
As they reached the airlock, Jeremiah balked. What did the Skolians want with him? If he went with this pilot, he could find himself in a worse situation than if he stayed here.
A voice came through the wind. “Jeremiah,” Khal called. “Wait!"
The Skolian spun around, his hand falling to his hip. With a lurch of dismay, Jeremiah saw that the man wore a Jumbler, a military sidearm that could destroy Khal as fast as antimatter annihilated matter. Khal and Kev stood a short distance away, Kev staring as if he were seeing a supernatural being.
As the Skolian drew his weapon, Jeremiah caught his arm, praying he didn't activate automatic reflexes that made the man shoot him instead. “Please. Don't hurt them."
Khal came closer. “Don't go, Jeremiah."
He swallowed, suddenly knowing he was going to trust th
is stranger. It might be his only chance to return home.
His voice caught. “I have to.” After seeing Khal and Kev together tonight, he could no longer deny what he had always known at a subconscious level. They completed each other. When Hevtar left home to wed Caryi, they would probably turn to each other to fill the void. Jeremiah couldn't bear to live with Khal knowing another man would always claim her heart.
She came to him. “Don't go. Viasa has come to care—” She took a breath. “I have come to care. For you."
Her look was achingly familiar, the one that caressed him after they made love, that held promises of affection she never spoke aloud, always leaving him in doubt. Now she added the words he had needed to hear, and even on the brink of escape he wanted to take her into his arms and promise he would stay.
He struggled with his words, aware of the Skolian stranger listening to them. “I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. But I can't be what I'm not. And I could never share you. It would kill me.” He swallowed. “Oh God, Khal, don't let pride keep you apart from the man you really love. Whatever you and Kev said to each other all those years ago ... let it mend."
“Jeremiah,” she murmured. The silver track of a tear slid down her face, catching starlight.
The pilot spoke with unexpected gentleness. “We must go."
Softly Khal said, “Good-bye, beautiful scholar."
Jeremiah wiped a tear off his face. “Good-bye, Khal."
The Skolian was already opening the airlock. As he paused to let Jeremiah enter, he looked back at Kev. “Don't tell anyone,” he said in Teotecan. “You know why."
Then he closed the hatch, cutting them off from Viasa.
* * * *
Jeremiah sat in the co-pilot's seat while the Skolian took them away from Coba. On the holoscreen, he watched Coba recede until she became a jeweled orb, a beautiful Quis die among stars and stardust. Another tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away, not wanting the stranger to see.
The pilot remained intent on his controls, more so than the ship probably required. His concentration gave Jeremiah a portion of privacy.
After a time, when Jeremiah had recovered some, he looked more closely at his rescuer. The man's skin, hair, and eyes had a gold cast. His skin flexed like tissue, but looked metallic. He had no doubt the man's alterations improved him over a normal human. He appeared hale and fit, with a powerful physique. Jeremiah was no judge of appearance in men, but even he could see this Skolian had remarkable good looks. Gray streaked his hair. He appeared about forty, but his facial expressions had a maturity that came from many more years of life, which suggested he enjoyed the benefits of delayed aging. Taken with the engineering on his body, it made Jeremiah suspect he came from a wealthy, powerful segment of the Skolian population.
The Jumbler gun at his hip was military issue. He also wore heavy military gauntlets embedded with conduits, picotech controls, comm meshes, and a wide gold strip around each wrist. Although the gauntlets looked solid, they flexed with his movements like a second skin.
The man glanced at him. In Spanish, he asked, “Are you all right?"
Jeremiah nodded. “Yes. Thank you for your trouble."
The man shrugged. “It is not so much trouble."
“You could have been killed."
“I have seen worse.” He paused. “I expect to have the beacon, though. It help that you know that transform."
Jeremiah thought of his half-panicked Quis. “I was guessing. Playing dice with your life."
“Such a problem take more than guesses."
“I was lucky."
The man's face gentled. “You are not what I expect."
“I'm not?"
“The genius who make history when he win this famous prize at twenty-four? I expect you to have a large opinion of yourself. But it seems not that way."
“I didn't deserve the Goldstone. Besides, that is hardly reason for the Skolian military to rescue me."
“They didn't. They know nothing about this.” The man paused. “I take you to a civilian port. From there, we find you passage to Earth."
It made no sense. Why would this Skolian help him? Was he a wealthy eccentric? Then how did he have a Jumbler? Jeremiah considered him. “At Viasa, you used some Teotecan. You even knew how to read my name from the Calanya bands. How?"
The man answered in perfect Teotecan, his accent heavy but easy to understand. “It doesn't seem to bother you to speak."
“Well, no.” Jeremiah blinked, startled by his fluency. “Should it?"
The man spoke quietly. “It was years before I could carry on a normal conversation with an Outsider."
An awareness that had been tugging at Jeremiah's mind suddenly became clear. The gold bands in the man's gauntlets weren't high-tech equipment.
They were Calanya guards.
Jeremiah stared at him. “You were a Calani?"
The man reached into his pocket and took out an armband. “I thought this might answer your questions."
Jeremiah took the band. He recognized both the insignia of Karn Estate and the Akasi symbol. The man who wore this had been Akasi to the ruler of a world. The name said Sevtar Karn.
“You're him.” Jeremiah looked up. “Sevtar. The one they went to war over."
“Actually, my name is Kelric. They called me Sevtar."
“But you're dead."
Kelric smiled. “I guess no one told me."
Jeremiah flushed. “They think you burned to death."
“I escaped during the fires. In all the chaos, I managed to take a windrider and fly to the port."
“Why do you let them think you died?” Jeremiah paused. “Did you hate Coba so much?"
Kelric considered. “At times. But it became a home I valued. Eventually, one I loved.” He extended his hand for the armband. When Jeremiah gave it to him, he ran his thumb over the Karn symbol. Then he put the band in his pocket. “Several of my Oaths were like yours. Forced. But I gave the Oath freely to Ixpar Karn, Minister of the Twelve Estates. When I swore loyalty to her, I meant it.” He regarded Jeremiah. “I will protect Ixpar, her people, and her world as long as it is within my power to do so."
A chill ran up Jeremiah's spine. He hoped this man never saw him as an enemy. “Why come for me?"
Kelric spoke dryly. “It was obvious no one else was going to do it. Your people and mine, they've been playing this dance of politics for years. You got chewed up in it.” He touched the wrist guard in his gauntlet. “I spent eighteen years as a Calani. Everything in me went into the Quis. I was a Jagernaut. A starfighter pilot. It so affected the dice web that the Cobans went to war. I had no intention of leaving you in the Calanya, another cultural bomb ready to go off."
Jeremiah remembered how his few talks with Aza had harmed Viasa. He could barely even imagine the havoc a Jagernaut in the Calanya could create.
Then he thought of Kev's expression when he had seen Kelric. “You knew Kev."
Kelric nodded. “At Varz. Kevtar Jev Ahkah Varz. He called himself Jev then, because people mixed up our names."
It sobered Jeremiah to realize he had never even known Kev's full name. “Why did you tell him not to say anything?"
Kelric regarded him. “I don't want my family seeking vengeance against Coba for what happened to me. They think I was a POW all those years. I intend for it to stay that way."
“Who is your family?"
“Valdoria."
Jeremiah swallowed. Even he knew of the Valdoria name. Powerful was an understatement.
“Maybe someday I can return to Ixpar on my own terms,” Kelric said. “But it isn't possible now. I don't want her dragged into Skolian politics unless I'm secure enough in my own position to make sure neither she nor Coba comes to harm.” Wryly he added, “And believe me, if Ixpar knew I was alive, she would become involved."
Jeremiah thought of Khal. “Coban women are—” He searched for the right word. “Well, they certainly aren't tentative."
Kelric laughed. “No, t
hey aren't."
“I thought I would never see home again."
“Your rescue has a price.” Flint showed in his gaze. “If you renege, you will bear the wrath of my family. And myself."
He could guess what Kelric required. “I'll never reveal you were on Coba."
“Good."
“But how do I explain my escape?"
“It's remarkable,” Kelric commented, with a slight smile. “You managed to fly a windrider to the port on your own.” He paused. “I've entered the necessary records and had the port send a message about it from you to Manager Viasa."
“So she will tell the same story?"
“Yes."
Jeremiah knew Khal would welcome the chance to explain his escape without implicating Coba in Kelric's captivity. Softly he said, “I'll miss her."
“Coban women do have that effect,” Kelric admitted. The hint of a smile showed on his face. “Gods only know why. They are surely exasperating."
Jeremiah smiled. “Yes,” he said, also agreeing with the unstated love beneath the words.
“There is a favor I would ask of you,” Kelric said.
Jeremiah wondered what he could possibly give such a powerful man. “A favor?"
Kelric unfolded a tray from his seat arm, extending it to Jeremiah's seat. Then he reached into his pocket—and took out a dice pouch. “I should like to play Calanya Quis again."
“I would like that."
So they rolled out their dice.
* * *
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A Roll of the Dice Page 7
