“They are wise.”
“Yes.” Eldrin’s voice had lost its chime, and he feared it would never heal. So much destroyed in one day. He thought of his bodyguards, the Abaj in the limo, and prayed they had survived.
Kaywood spoke carefully. “I also wondered about the phorine.”
Eldrin knew what the doctor wanted to know. He brushed back his hair, which had tangled over his collar. “I thought it would solve a neurological problem. I didn’t know it was addictive.”
Kaywood’s gaze turned to steel. “I assume you will never again take it without supervision.”
Eldrin shuddered. “Not even with”
“Good.”
The girl stirred in her sleep. Relieved to avoid the doctor’s stem gaze, Eldrin watched the children. The boy reminded him of Taquinil. Fear wrenched Eldrin. Were his wife and son safe? The Orbiter was always on the move, which could protect Taquinil and the Bard. Eldrin’s hallucinations had included the agony of torture by the Traders, but he had no way to know if the withdrawal had caused it or something else. When he thought of his family, especially his parents, his worry spiked. But he didn’t know why. Nor did he have any idea where Dehya had gone. He tried to sense her mind, but it felt diffuse, even … gone.
No. She couldn’t be gone. She couldn’t.
He should have been with Dehya in the Assembly, or with Taquinil on the Orbiter. Node-bliss. Better to call it nodemisery. He had let it take him away from his family and his singing. His bodyguards had protected him even as he risked them all, insisting they delay while he searched for his damnable “medicine.” If not for him, they might have reached the hospital in time to prevent whatever injured them. If not for his soul-killing need, he wouldn’t have drained his life until he had nothing left but the empty Ruby Palace. If he had another chance, he would honor it. He would be a worthy Ruby Heir, a better husband, a better father.
A bell clanged, jarring Eldrin out of his haze. The captain’s voice came over comm, as brusque as always. “Prepare to invert.”
Eldrin glanced at Kaywood and saw his apprehension reflected in the doctor’s face. They could come out into empty space—or among ESComm battleships.
“Have you heard anything about the situation?” Eldrin asked. People around them were murmuring similar questions to one another.
Kaywood shook his head, his face pale. “This ship apparently had only limited Kyle access to start with, and it lost those few links during the attack. People are saying the web collapsed.”
“It didn’t.” Eldrin wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was certain. For some reason Soz came to mind. Then he thought of his mother and his unease returned, magnified.
“I thought we were going to invert,” a woman muttered.
“It was a warning,” a man said dryly.
“Don’t complain,” another man said. “He’s a good captain.”
Eldrin agreed. The captain could have taken off to ensure his own safety, but instead he had stayed during the attack and given up his cargo so he could jam hundreds of people into his freighter. Eldrin intended to make sure he received recompense for his lost goods. He hadn’t seen the captain, but then, he had seen little else but hallucinations for the past few days.
Another alarm sounded, the ten-second warning. They had no chairs or pads, nothing to ease the drop out of inversion. Eldrin just stayed against the bulkhead, his arm around the children. When the ship inverted, his nausea surged. Grotesque monsters with red eyes and shimmering black hair capered at the edges of his vision, hawks with the heads of Aristos. They were a dim nightmare, though, weak reminders of the terrors that had haunted him.
His sense of the universe abruptly righted itself, and the hallucinations faded. Grateful, he leaned his head against the bulkhead and closed his eyes.
The captain’s voice came over comm. “Drop complete.” Relief crept into his brisk tone. “Looks like we’re clear, folks. We’re coming up on Baylow Station, an outpost in Ivory Sector designated to accept evacuees.”
Kaywood exhaled. “Thank the saints.”
Eldrin opened his eyes and smiled wanly. “Also the Els that ran the evacuation and this ship.”
The doctor laughed, his voice uneven. “I guess sainthood is beyond their capabilities.”
Eldrin had grown up immersed in Lyshriol culture, with its saints of the suns, moons, lands, reeds, bubbles, and more. He knew, logically, that it was mythology, intricate and lovely, but only stories. His emotions believed, though. Right now he would thank them all for bringing him through to this place—and eventually back to his home, he hoped.
If he still had a home.
Shannon walked the Blue.
He no longer saw the Eloria in the mists. He had gone too far for them to follow. Their mental support, as nebulous as it had become, remained, allowing him to walk the strange edges of Kyle space. He searched for his mother. His father had tasked him to this deed and he would succeed no matter what it took. His fear for her drove him onward, searching, searching, searching.
mother, can you hear?
Gripping the web, Soz searched. Mother, can you hear?
The Bard called with the power of the Triad. Roca, where are you?
Slowly she opened her eyes. She was lying on her back under a silver sheet. Her arms were pulled above her head and bound at the wrists. Her ankles were strapped down.
A thought formed. Councilor?
Odd. She heard the word in her mind, it wasn’t her own.
This is Arabesque, it thought. Your node.
Node. Spode. Code …
Councilor, I need your help.
Who is Councilor? she asked.
You.
Me …?
Your name is Roca Valdoria Skolia. You are heir to the Ruby Throne and Councilor of Foreign Affairs in the Assembly.
The meaning of the titles eluded her. What do you want?
I have been dormant. Someone nudged me.
What?
People are searching for you. They cannot find you if your brain is off.
You are my brain.
No. I turned you off.
That made no sense. She pulled at her bonds, but her limbs were tightly fastened. Free me. It hurts.
I can’t.
Fear sifted through her mind. They want to hurt me.
Yes. I am sorry.
Have they …
They stopped when you went into the coma. They are waiting for you to awake.
She stiffened, and pain shot through her wrists. I am awake.
Yes. Nor can I suppress your physiological responses much longer. I have infiltrated the meshes on this ship, but if I manipulate the systems, they may catch what I am doing. If I don’t hide your vital signs, however, they will soon realize you are awake.
What is wrong with me? Bile rose in her throat. Why can’t I think?
You have a great deal of brain damage.
Her anger sparked. You did this to me.
Yes. You commanded it.
Why would I give such a command?
To stop the torture. They cannot transcend if you are in a coma.
She remembered pain. We must escape.
Someone is searching. If we could just—Suddenly it thought, The El for this medical bay just notified Commander Raziquon that you have come out of your coma.
A chill went through her. Who is Commander Raziquon?
The Aristo who abducted you. She and her brother.
What should I do?
Make contact with the people searching for you.
How?
I don’t know.
A hiss came from across the bay. Footsteps entered, boots on the deck. A face appeared above her, a woman with eyes as brilliant and as red as rubies. Her hair hung to her shoulders and shimmered as if it were made from black gems. She was beautiful in an inhuman way. Her mind was a vortex pulling Roca into a nightmare place where no empathy or humanity existed.
She is an Aristo, Arabesque thought.
<
br /> The word chilled. Roca instinctively tried to jerk away, but with her arms and legs bound, she couldn’t move.
The woman smiled, like ice. “My greetings.”
Roca regarded her blankly. “What?”
More footsteps entered the room. A man appeared next to the woman, a male version with the same cold eyes. His hair glittered.
“She seems confused,” the woman said.
“Good,” the man said.
Roca thought she should know these people.
The woman is Vitarex Raziquon’s daughter, her node thought. The man is her brother Kryx. Raziquon’s son.
The man spoke to the woman. “Will you stay?”
The woman inclined her head as if he offered a gracious invitation. “Thank you.” She considered Roca the way someone might survey an expensive acquisition. Then she moved away. Her steps receded, followed by a squeak of furniture as she apparently sat down.
Kryx watched Roca with a pitiless gaze. He took the sheet between his thumb and forefinger and twitched it off her body. Heat spread in her face. She pulled her arms, trying to bring them down, to cover her nakedness.
A cruel smile touched his lips. “You don’t like me looking at you? Good.”
With growing panic, she struggled to free her arms.
Kryx reached under the table and removed a small cup and a brush. He swirled the brush in the cup, then showed it to her. Iridescent powder covered the bristles. “See this?”
“Yes.” Roca couldn’t see what he wanted, though.
“While you were in your little coma, we matched this to your DNA.” He spread the sparkling powder across her shoulder. “So it will affect only you.”
Affect her how? She felt nothing. “What is it?”
He swept the glitter onto her breast and rubbed the palm of his hand over her nipple. It made Roca ill. She struggled again, with no more success than before.
“It is seeded with nanobots,” he said.
“What are those?” Her voice sounded slowed. Dull.
Kryx laughed coldly. “I had heard you were intelligent. More Skolian lies, eh?” He went to work on her abdomen. “Nanobots are molecular machines. Hooks on these will fasten to your skin. Only your skin.” He spread glitter on her hip bones.
Roca thought she should understand. But she saw only that he wanted to cover her with sparkling dust. After coating her legs and arms, he set the cup and brush back under the table.
“What do you want?” Roca asked, her voice thick.
He watched her with undisguised contempt. “You have spent your life making offensive assumptions. You are a provider. A slave. The idea that the Ruby Dynasty should have authority is an abomination to all that is decent. You need to be controlled.”
The hell with him. “By what? Glitter?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention?” He poised his finger above a panel on his gauntlet. “The nanobots extend threads into your body that touch your nerve endings.”
Then he tapped the panel.
Pain!
All over her body, nerves caught fire. She screamed, arching her back, but she had nowhere to go, no escape. Unbearable—
Suddenly the agony stopped. Roca gasped, sobbing, her throat raw. The Aristo watched her with a hateful ecstasy. Sweat broke out on her forehead. She had never experienced pain that intense.
“She is exquisite,” Kryx murmured.
His sister’s voice came from behind them. “Indeed she is.” Dryly she added, “But loud. Fix that.”
He took a sponge and a silvery roll out from under the table. To Roca he said, “Open up.”
She stared at him with loathing. “What?”
As soon as she opened her mouth, he shoved in the sponge. Before she could spit it out, he taped her mouth closed. Then he poised his finger above his gauntlet, deliberately letting her see.
No! Roca fought her panic. Stop him! Help me!
I can turn you off again, her node thought. You will feel nothing.
Kryx moved his finger a hair’s breadth above his gauntlet.
Turn me off, Roca answered, frantic. Fast!
If I do, it will damage your brain so severely, I can never help again—
She didn’t hear the rest. Kryx touched his guard and agony wracked her body. The gag muffled her screams but nothing stopped the pain. It went on and on, and encompassed the universe.
When it finally stopped, Roca shook with anguished, muffled sobs. Turn me off. Now.
Councilor, listen! her node thought. People are looking for you in Kyle space. If I stop your neural processes, they won’t find you. You will never be free of this insanity. You will either die or be his provider forever. But if you hold out a little longer, the searchers may find you.
I can’t bear it. She was crying inside as well as out. Turn me off.
It will destroy your only hope of escape.
A lifetime of this. Roca would rather die.
Can you bear staying conscious for even a few more minutes?
Tears rolled from her eyes. I will try.
Soz was tracking the ESComm invasion when the mental quake hit her. In the virtual simulation, she was in the War Room command chair, in reality, she sat in the Triad Chair on the cruiser. When the quake hit, the War Room simulation distorted. Vertigo rolled through Soz, and she felt as if she were going into shock.
“Cadet Valdoria!” Devon Majda’s voice snapped over the comm in her ear. It echoed, but at least the Chair was giving her the transmission. Sometimes it either couldn’t or wouldn’t let her communicate with the cruiser.
“Your stats just jumped,” Devon said. “Your pulse is too high and your brain waves went off the scale.”
I’m all right. Soz thought her response, and the Chair sent it to Devon’s station on the bridge as words. Something happened in Kyle Space.
“What was it?” Devon asked.
I don’t know—Soz broke off as another quake rocked through her. Bile rose in her throat. It was all she could do to hold down the acid in her stomach.
Soshoni? the Bard asked.
Father, is that you? Are you all right? What happened?
The War Room wavered around her and disintegrated into blue mist. A figure took form, a man, but he seemed more slender than her father and not as tall.
Soz mentally stumbled in the mist. Shannon?
she hurts. Shannon sounded agonized. we must help her.
Soz barely understood him. His “voice” came with even more chimes and lilt than native Trillian. He had an accent, one reminiscent of ancient ballads about the Blue Dales, a dialect that had died when the Blue Dale Archers vanished. Yet now it saturated his thoughts.
Who, Shannon? she asked. Who hurts?
Her father answered, frantic. Your mother! It is a sword slicing me to pieces.
Soz extended her mind further into the mist and tried to sense what they had found, but she couldn’t shed her fatigue. She had spent too many days in the Chair, kept alive by a machine.
Another quake hit.
This time, with her attention focused, Soz felt it. Agony blazed as if her nerves were on fire. She gasped and went rigid. Were they doing this to her mother? Fury swept through her and turned the mist red. She hurtled her mind forward, through fog the color of an Aristo’s eyes, straight to the epicenter of the quakes. Shannon flew at her side, shadowy, half formed, more thought than boy. Beyond him, almost invisible, more figures ran, many people, ethereal here in the red mists.
Red.
The color of rage.
Her father’s rage.
It surrounded them, everywhere. That was why she hadn’t seen him before. He was the mist. He was the Kyle. The blue had turned red with the wrath of a man who had known and loved one woman in his life, the mother of his ten children. His fury saturated the universe.
They converged on the epicenter. Mist whirled around this place of pain like a vortex. Another quake came, Roca’s agony, and the Bard roared in fury.
Roca could take
no more. Kryx inflicted the pain again and again, and each time it stopped, he fondled her body, until she thought she would choke with horror and disgust. His gaze seemed to expand until it filled her universe, turning everything red, nothing but carnelian shadows. He leaned over her, his eyes glazed with ecstasy—and hit the panel on his gauntlet.
Roca couldn’t scream any more. Agony wracked her body and she thought she would shatter. Make it stop! she pleaded with her node. I don’t care if I die. Turn it off. End this.
Mother! Soz’s thought broke through the pain. Mother, give me your hand! Reach for me.
Roca knew then she had truly gone insane. The brain damage had destroyed her memories, intellect, personality, but nothing could make her forget her family. Except they couldn’t be here.
Roca! The Bard’s voice thundered. Reach out with your mind!
It was impossible. But Roca reached anyway.
Suddenly blue surrounded her in a mist, cradling her in its embrace. It filled the universe. She heard Kryx shouting, heard his fury, but it was receding. The pain, mercifully, had stopped.
A woman’s authoritative voice spiked through the eerie fog. “Cadet Valdoria! This is Imperator Majda. You need to keep the comm lines active. We’re losing your signal.”
What the hell? Roca thought.
Soz answered. I’m coordinating them, ma’am.
“Are you having trouble?” Majda asked. “We’re getting a ten-second delay in your responses.”
Roca’s thoughts spread over her daughter’s like a glaze, and data from Soz’s augmented brain flooded her mind: ISC and ESComm forces would engage each other as soon as their respective fleets dropped out of inversion. At relativistic speeds, ten seconds were an eternity. Entire battles could be won or lost in that time. Those seconds could mean the difference between triumph and defeat for the ISC forces defending Skolia.
We’re freeing my mother from the Traders, Soz said, her thoughts accelerated. I can’t let her go. That’s what is causing the delay.
The Final Key: Part Two of Triad (Saga of the Skolian Empire) Page 25
