Catch the Lightning (25 page)

Stonehedge glanced at Althor. “Who is the man?”

After an awkward silence, in which Althor just looked at the director, Ming read off the answer. “Eldrin Jarac Valdoria. He’s Selei’s nephew.” She touched a panel, bringing up a menu. Another touch, and she had a new stream of hieroglyphs. “He’s the oldest son on the Skyfall side of the lineage. Right now he’s first in line for one of the Triad Keys. In fact, according to this, he would have become the Web Key when his father died if the Traders hadn’t captured the Third Lock. And look at this—he’s the older brother of Althor Valdoria, the war hero.”

“Turn it off,” Althor said.

Ming touched a panel and the holo vanished. Everyone in the room watched Althor, their emotions moving in currents: wonder, incredulity, fascination. The moment stretched out like taffy being pulled, its silence broken only by a distant hum of machinery.

Then Althor said, “Dyhianna Selei and Eldrin Valdoria are my parents.”

The moment cracked open, no longer taffy, instead a dam releasing water, chilly and bracing. Stonehedge let out a whistle. “Why didn’t you want to tell us?”

“You’ve seen my ship,” Althor said. “That damage is no accident.”

“Our techs agree,” Stonehedge said.

“It had no problems before I took it to ISC headquarters,” Althor said.

Kabatu leaned forward. “Are you saying your own military sabotaged it?”

“I don’t know.” Althor paused. “I was scheduled to attend a diplomatic reception on Earth.”

Comprehension swept across Stonehedge’s face. “Which gives you good reason to suspect the saboteurs had connections with the Allied Worlds of Earth.”

“That possibility has occurred to me,” Althor said.

“I can assure you,” Stonehedge said, “that no one here is in any way hostile to you or any member of your family.”

Althor regarded him, his mood metallic again. “You must allow us to marry.”

Ming spoke quietly. “The closer the two of you become, the more of a target that makes Tina. Isn’t she safer now?”

“No,” Althor said.

“I’m sorry,” Stonehedge said. “But a girl her age needs her guardians’ permission to marry. Until we have that, we can’t do anything.”

Althor shook his head. “Tina has no identity. You won’t find her in any database. If assassins take my life, she has nothing. I gave her my word I wouldn’t leave her stranded. The Selei name will give her both a family and protection.”

Kabatu whistled. “That it would.”

Only I saw the orange light that flickered around Althor. The color of deception. It wasn’t that his words were false; he did fear assassination and intended to honor his promise to me. But that wasn’t his only reason for wanting the contract. He was also guarding his own interests.

“I don’t have any guardians,” I said. “They’re dead.” Centuries dead.

Stonehedge pushed his hand through his hair. “If we can verify that, I might be able to sign in their place. I’ll have Legal check into it.”

Ming was watching me closely. “Are you positive this is what you want?”

Althor’s thought came into my mind: Perhaps I should leave, I think she wants to make sure you’re agreeingfreely and not because my presence intimidates you.

I couldn’t process her words with Althor uploading to my brain. As I shook my head, the Jag thought, Carrier attenuated. .Mercifully, my hyperextended awareness of Althor and the others receded.

“Tina?” Ming said. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Yes. And yes about marrying Althor. It’s what I want.”

“Have you had time to make preparations?” When I shook my head, she smiled. “I probably have a dress you could borrow, if you’d like.”

“We don’t need to change our clothes to sign a contract,” Althor said.

Kabatu snorted. “You’re not selling her real estate in the Orion Nebula, man. You’re marrying her.”

I thought of my mother’s wedding dress, the huipil hanging in another universe and time. “Althor, I’d like a dress.”

He folded his hand around mine. I’d rather we didn’t separate.

Stonehedge chuckled. “Commander Selei, I can show you around the station while they do all that.”

“What?” Althor turned to him, his confusion buzzing like an agitated bee. I could actually feel the fragmentation of the neural subshell that allowed him to converse with people while his brain interacted with another psion.

The Jag’s thought brushed past me.
Althor, your interface is degenerating. I need you back here to do more work
.

“Commander Selei?” Stonehedge asked. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve a minor biomech problem,” Althor said. “Nothing serious.” To the Jag, he thought:
I can’t do anything when you take me down for repair work. I won’t have Tina alone with them.

My analysis yields a 98.9 percent probability that these people had no link to the assassination attempt on your life.

I don’t care
, Althor thought.
I’m not trusting her with anyone while you turn me off
.

Stonehedge was speaking to Althor. “Can we do anything to help?”

“No,” Althor said. “I mean, I’m fine.”

A thought from the Jag coiled around me, discreet, hidden from Althor.
Tina? Can you convince him?

Didn’t you already fix him?
I thought.

I didn’t have enough time to stabilize him. My patches have been decaying since he left. Disruption of his language ability and higher reasoning is minimal, but increasing. Motor coordination will go next, then internal organ junction. Ultimately, he could die.

Doesn’t he realize the danger he’s putting himself in? I asked
.

Tes. He did not wish you to know
.

“I recommend rest,” Kabatu was saying to Althor. “And food. For both of you.”

“We can provide dining arrangements,” Stonehedge said.

Althor suddenly spoke in a cold voice. “Doctor Kabatu, you can put that clip away.” He crossed the room so fast, I barely had time to catch my breath before he was looming over the doctor, holding a blue med clip in his hand.

Kabatu looked at his empty hand, then back up at Althor. “I had heard Jagernauts were fast, but I had no idea.” He blinked. “Why did you do that?”

Althor was studying the clip, essentially a sliver and firing mechanism. “This is set for… Perital. Perital?” He scowled at Kabatu. “Who are you planning to knock out?”

“No one.” Kabatu paused. “I loaded the syringe when we first learned you were coming on board. As a precaution. I took it out just now to deactivate it.”

Althor’s wariness intensified. I detected no deception from Kabatu, but that was no guarantee it didn’t exist; empaths have a heightened ability to pick up emotions, but it is neither infallible nor always straightforward. Still, my sense was that Kabatu told the truth.

The Jag sent me a thought.
I had already estimated a 98 percent chance that he would have taken such a precaution for exactly the reason he gives
.

Okay. I got up and went over to Althor. “You can go back to the Jag. I’ll be all right.”

Althor looked down at me, his hair disarrayed, his face creased with strain. “Tina—”

I took his hands. “Please.”

He wrapped his arms around me, his hands clenched with tension. A snap sounded by my ear. Althor let go, and I drew back to see him staring at the broken remains of the clip in his hand. The sliver stuck out of his palm.

Althor looked at Kabatu. “Give me the antidote.”

“It was on one of the clip’s other settings,” Kabatu said. “Then get a new clip.”

Kabatu stood up. “They’re in my office—”

“The console.” Althor’s words slurred. “Or nano… take only… seconds…”

As Althor fell backward, Stonehedge jumped to his feet and brought up his arms, catching him under the armpits. The director stumbled under their combined weight and hit the couch-with what had to be a jarring impact against his legs. Then he eased Althor down on the floor.

“Damn,” Kabatu muttered, stepping over Althor’s outflung arm. He knelt next to him and took a cylinder from his belt. The cylinder unrolled into a reflective tape, which he lay across Althor’s neck. Symbols scrolled across it and small holos appeared, rotating to show views of a man’s body.

I knelt next to Kabatu. “Is he going to be all right?”

“He’ll sleep for a few hours.” Kabatu exhaled. “I really was about to deactivate it.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “Can you take him to his ship?” Stonehedge spoke behind us. “Take him to the hospital.”

“No.” I got up, facing the director, wishing I were bigger. I felt like an otter challenging a bear. “He has to go to his ship. It’s repairing him.”

“Repairing?” Stonehedge smiled. “That’s an odd way to put it.”

“Max, she’s right.” Kabatu stood. “If he’s malfunctioning, his ship is better equipped to work on him. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“You talk as if he’s a piece of apparatus,” Stonehedge said.

“Jagernauts are,” Kabatu said. “We don’t know much about them; Imperial Space Command keeps it under wraps. But I’ve never heard of one with as much biomech in his body as this man. Especially his legs. All of it is biomech. None of his own bones at all.”

“All right,” Stonehedge said. “Have the techs let the ship know he’s coming.” He paused. “Unless it knows already?”

“I doubt it,” Kabatu said. “Kyle interactions fall off with distance, and his ship is at the hub. It’s unlikely even human Kyles could communicate across so much distance. I don’t see any way the El brain in a ship could.”

“Selei isn’t just any operator,” Stonehedge said. “He’s Rhon.” I watched them curiously. It was my first indication of how much more advanced Althor’s people were in the Kyle sciences than the Allieds realized.

“I doubt a Rhon psion could do it,” Kabatu said. “But who knows about the Rhon? From what I understand, you can get tossed into prison just for making a holo of one of them.” He glanced at Althor. “I doubt it would go over well if the Imperial authorities found out one was sprawled unconscious on our floor while we discussed Kyle interactions.”

Stonehedge winced. “No, I doubt it would. You better take him to his ship.”

Within moments, four medics arrived. They suspended Althor on a floating stretcher and sped out of the house, accompanied by Kabatu.

Tina,
the Jag thought.
You must do something else.

Yes?

Make sure they notify no one about Althor’s arrival. No one must know he still lives.

What about his commanding officers?

No,
the Jag thought.
I calculate a 99.5.percent probability that the assassins have a link to ISC. A 99.9 percent probability exists that they have high-level access to the galactic nets. If he uses either the psiber or spacetime webs, he may alert them that he survived. I will take you both to a planet owned by Althor’s family. From there we can use secured channels set up precisely for crises such as this.

I wasn’t sure that sounded better.
How do we know someone in his family isn’t in with the assassins?

I calculate a 99.999 percent probability against it
.

What makes you so sure?

They are Rhon
, the Jag answered, as if that explained everything.

“Ms. Pulivok?” Stonehedge asked. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I was thinking about the nets,” I said. “Please don’t tell anyone Althor is here. If the assassins discover he’s alive, they may try to kill him again.”

Stonehedge nodded. “Don’t worry. We won’t.”

Good
, the Jag thought. Its intensity lightened, almost as if it were experiencing relief.
And I will see if I can civilize your groom
. It uploaded an exaggerated image of Althor to my mind, a Jagernaut growling at everyone in sight, his hair in wild disarray, his uniform splitting at the seams.
It may be hopeless. But I will try
.

I laughed, then stopped when Stonehedge gave me an odd look. After that the chaplain took me to find a wedding dress.

Ming lived in a terraced house, with plants hanging from eaves and balconies. Metal lace decorated the walls. In the bedroom, the quilt on her bed shimmered with designs of parrots and bonsai trees. Silhouetted against a pink sunrise, the birds gleamed in iridescent green, blue, gold, and red. The cloth was holographic, letting the designs extend out of the cloth. Three-dimensional holoart glowed on the walls, showing pagodas, gardens with cultivated flowers, trees shaped into statues. A gust of wind started in one picture and blew around the room through the others, even though each image showed a different scene.

Ming rummaged in her closet. “I have something from my friend’s cousin—here it is.”

She took out a simple dress, about knee-length, made from white lace. The cloth was holographic, its glistening rainbows shimmering above and within the lace. It made me think of the dress my mother had sewn for my
quinceanera
.

“It’s lovely,” I said.

Ming smiled. “You can have it. I’ll never wear it.”

I swallowed, touched by the gift. “Thank you.”

“Would you like some time to rest before the ceremony?”

“Actually—I wondered if you would mind answering some questions.”

“Certainly.” She motioned me toward a table. “I’m hoping you can help us understand too.”

I sat down with her. “Understand?”

“A Rhon heir shows up running from assassins and asks us to marry him to a child he says has no identity. We can’t help but wonder what’s going on.”

“I don’t know.” Although Althor had told me about his family, I had no feel yet for what it meant. “I still don’t really even understand who he is.”

Ming described what she knew, telling an ancient story of a dying people. Five thousand years ago the Ruby Dynasty controlled a starfaring empire. For star drives, they looted the ruined shuttles beached on the Vanished Sea, all that remains of the mysterious race which stranded humans on Raylicon. The Ruby Empire rose and fell three thousand years before the birth of Christ. It was one of humanity’s most remarkable—and fragile—achievements.

They developed star travel before they had any grasp of the physics. Then they went searching for their lost home. They never found Earth, but they did settle many planets. Necessity forced them to learn genetic engineering, both to adapt colonists to new worlds and in an attempt to expand their gene pool. But their empire was too fragile to survive; they had neither the scientific background nor the population needed to sustain such accelerated development. So it collapsed, stranding the colonies for over four thousand years.