Schism: Part One of Triad (35 page)

s commander of the Ascendant battle cruiser, Corey Ma-jda was the highest authority in the orbital defense system that guarded Lyshriol. Now, however, Majda had come down to the planet. She sat with Roca, Denric, and several ISC

officers at a long table of blue glasswood. It stretched down the length of the dining hall in Castle Windward, the Valdoria retreat high in the Backbone Mountains. Rafters of green glasswood braced the high ceiling, and glasswood mosaics patterned the walls in mountain scenes. A fire roared in the giant hearth at the end of the hall, its flames taking on the color of its glasswood logs, blue, green, and gold.

Roca missed her other children. She wanted to draw them near during this time of grief, but they were taking care of Dalvador while she stayed up here. The twins, Del-Kurj and Chaniece, were eldest now mat both Eldrin and Althor had gone offworld. They would tend the house and look after the youngest children, Aniece and Kelric. They were also seeing to their father’s duties, with help from Vyrl and Lily. Her husband considered himself a singer and farmer only, but Roca understood what he didn’t acknowledge, that in his own unassuming way, he led the people of the plains. In his absence, his children would carry on for him.

Despite the importance of those tasks, they weren’t the true reason the children stayed in Dalvador. Their father refused to see anyone, especially those he loved. His insistence that ISC bring him here instead of to their starships hadn’t surprised Roca. Windward had always been his retreat, a place he preferred far more than the alien environment of ships in space.

ISC had destroyed a substantial portion of Windward shortly after Roca’s marriage to Eldri, when they came to “rescue” her. Although they had rebuilt it to match the old casde exactly, Roca knew Eldri felt it was no longer the same. But he preferred a rebuilt castle to a battle cruiser in orbit, and ISC assured her they could care for him just as well here.

Roca looked around at the ISC doctors arrayed on both sides of the table. In their crisp green or blue uniforms, they seemed so out of place beneath the glasswood rafters and columns. They were taller than Lyshrioli men and women, more angular, darker in their hair and eyes, a sharp contrast the rustic, stained-glass hall.

“Surely you can do something for him.” Roca spoke to Jase Heathland, the senior doctor of the team here.

“We can rebuild his legs,” Jase said. “But they will be more biomech than natural. He will have to relearn their use, not only how to walk, but how to think about walking. The way they receive signals from his brain will no longer be the same.” He rubbed his chin, frowning as he thought, his narrow face tanned from his time walking in the plains under the Lyshrioli suns, an unusual effect since most Skolians protected their skin. Jase tended to prefer what he called a “natural” state, which was one reason Eldri could relate to him. The Bard avoided most ISC personnel, but he actually liked Jase.

Jase spoke carefully, as if negotiating a field of broken glass. “Councilor, I’m not sure his mind can adapt to the biomech system. The structure of his brain is unusual. It differs a great deal from humanoid norms. Even if we can get

beyond that—” He spoke with gentle caution. “Ma’am, your husband must want to use his new legs. He can accomplish nothing if he doesn’t have the heart to try.”

Roca knew he was right She had never seen Eldri like this before, so turned inward, so full of despair. He had shut her out of his life. She could watch him on monitors ISC had set up, but he refused to let her come to him, talk to him, even stand in the same room.

Roca spoke softly. ‘1 know.” She had no more she could add.

The doctors discussed with her more equipment they needed to bring down to the castle, and how they would set it up. Colonel Corey Majda sat at the table, listening with an intent focus. Tall and dark, with regular features, she had the classic aquiline profile of a Raylican noblewoman. And so she should; the House of Majda was the most elevated of the nobility, second in status only to the Ruby Dynasty. Ma-jda’s warrior queens had served the Ruby Pharaoh for five millennia.

As Matriarch of her House, Corey reigned over the Majda financial empire, which spanned many star systems and included some of the most lucrative businesses in the Skolian Imperialate. Her aunt was the one who actually ran their corporations; Corey was a career officer in the military. It wasn’t coincidence ISC had chosen her for this post. Not only did she serve as their primary protector, in her position as commander of the orbital defense system, but she also represented the nobility and could present herself in that role to the Ruby Dynasty. A consummate officer, she would carry out her duties regardless, but on a personal level she could have taken insult that Eldri refused to acknowledge her presence. Instead she responded with sympathy and patience, earning Roca’s gratitude.

It relieved Roca, too, for Corey could have reacted much differendy. This wasn’t the first time the Ruby Dynasty had given offense to Majda. Four years ago, Corey’s older sister Devon had been the Majda queen. The Assembly sought an alliance between the Ruby Dynasty and Majda for political reasons. After much negotiation, they reached a decision: Devon would marry a Ruby prince. She picked Vyrl. He had been fourteen when they told him of the betrothal—and two days later he had run off with Lily, a girl he had loved his entire life. The resulting mess caused an interstellar crisis. Then Devon shocked them all by abdicating her title to marry the man she loved, a commoner deemed unacceptable as her consort, a government clerk. Corey, her younger sister, had become queen.

Roca winced. In issues of the heart, Skolia had much to answer for with Majda.

She herself had committed such an offense decades ago, during the negotiations for her betrothal to a Majda prince. Roca had married Eldri instead. It added insult to the injury that she had chosen a husband considered the antithesis of a proper Ruby consort Roca would have abdicated for Eldri if necessary, but he was a Rhon psion, which meant he descended from the ancient Ruby Dynasty. Five millennia of isolation had separated his people from hers, so the connection was nebulous at best and some among the Assembly still considered him irredeemably inappropriate. That Roca loved him with all her heart mattered to none of them—except herself.

Now he refused to see her.

Denric was speaking to Corey, his Iotic words softened by the chime of his Lyshrioli vocal cords. “Can’t your doctors help my father’s sadness?”

Corey answered quietly. “If you mean, do we have treatments for depression, the answer is yes. But your father’s case is far more complex.” She glanced at Jase. “Dr. Heathland?”

Jase crossed his arms on the table, his green uniform dull against the lustrous blue glasswood. The circles under his eyes gave testament to his unending work on Eldrinson’s behalf this last day, since they had flown here from the Blue Dale caravan.

He spoke to both Roca and Denric. “How familiar are you with the genetic history of our ancestors, the first Raylicans?”

“I studied it at university,” Roca said. That had been half a century ago, though. “I have some medical knowledge

stored in my spinal node, but I would have to sort through it for details.”

“I’ve learned some with my tutors,” Denric said. His mop of curly blond hair made him look younger than his sixteen years, but he had always been mature for his age. “I don’t know a lot of specifics.”

“It’s important to Eldrinson’s situation,” Jase said, using Eldri’s full name.

“The Ruby Empire colonists were stranded for almost five thousand years across many star systems. Most of those populations were genetically engineered, usually to adapt to their colony world and sometimes, like here—well, we don’t know why. And populations can shift even more during five millennia.”

“Well, yes,” Roca said. “But the same is true of our ancestors on Raylicon.”

“Yes.” Jase inclined his head to her. “The Raylicans were also separated for thousands years from the peoples of Earth, and had to adapt to living on another world. That alone would cause their population to select for distinct characteristics compared to our siblings on Earth. Our ancestors also learned genetic engineering. They must have been desperate. With such a small population, mey didn’t have enough genetic diversity to remain viable. So they created that diversity themselves. The result of it all? Humans have split into a range of different classes.”

“How is that different from new races?” Denric asked.

Jase turned to him. “The distinctions are greater. Some of the more diverse humanoid strains can no longer interbreed. It makes us different species. They aren’t Homo sapiens, technically.”

“But me peoples of Raylicon,” Roca said. “They’re the basis for what we call human, yes?”

Jase shifted his weight in his chair. “Actually, no, Your Highness. The people of Earth are the original humans. We call them Alpha class. Raylicans are Beta class.”

As an empath she could sense that he was uneasy telling her that, but she didn’t know why. The tide he used gave her a good idea, though; as a Ruby heir she was a Highness and

as consort to the “King of Skyfall” she was a Majesty. She actually had more power as an Assembly Councilor, but the romanticized legend of her marriage had swamped out the more pragmatic aspects of her life. She wondered how Jase saw the royal family, if he hesitated to correct a simple mistake she made about genetics. It wouldn’t occur to her to resent his comment. Most military personnel knew the Ruby Dynasty primarily through Kurj, though. Her son expected the truth regardless of how unpalatable it might be, but his iron-hard personality could make officers reluctant to disagree with him.

Curiosity sparked in Denric’s gaze. “I’m not Beta. I remember that from genetics last year.”

Jase’s posture eased. “Yes. That’s right.”

“I’m Gamma class,” Roca said. She recalled that much.

“Yes.” The doctor nodded to her. “You, your father Jarac, your son Kurj, your sons Althor and Kelric, and perhaps your daughter Chaniece, though her DNA is more mixed. The metallic components in your bodies, the extra size and muscle density, and the neural structures that confer such great empathic strength but less mental dexterity than other empaths—it is all part of what we call Gamma.”

“It’s not common, though, is it?” Denric said. “Not if we don’t even all fit into it.”

“Beta is the most widely known strain.” Jase glanced at Majda. The colonel inclined her head, her upward tilted eyes as dark as ebony. To Denric, Jase said, “Most members of the noble Houses are Beta, like Colonel Majda. Also your grandmother and the current Ruby Pharaoh.”

Roca could see where he was going. “And my husband?”

Jase brushed back a stray lock of his hair, which he wore in a cap of loose brown curls just short enough to satisfy regulations. “We know a lot more now than when you first came here, but we’ve a great deal to learn about the Lyshrioli. This world has at least two classes of humans we’ve never seen.

Maybe three.”

She thought of the differences between her and Eldri. “Like the people of Dalvador and Rillia.”

“That’s right,” Jase said. “The most common class by far is the Rillians, which includes the people of Dalvador. The hinged, four-digit hands are probably the most obvious difference. And the unusual hair color, the different shades of purple and lavender.” He glanced at Denric. “You’re registered as Rillian class, with aspects of both Gamma and even some Blue Dale Archer. Your brothers Eldrin, Del-Kurj, and Vyrl are also Rillian, though Vyrl has a bit more Gamma.”

Denric held up his hand and flexed his fingers, all four of them and his sturdy thumb. Then he folded his hand lengthwise along the hinge, bringing his two smaller fingers flush against his larger index and middle fingers. “I was born with a vestigial thumb. The doctors made it whole.”

Roca remembered when she and Eldrinson had faced the decision: what would they do about their babies’ hands? They had no need to worry for most of the children. Eldrin had a normal Lyshrioli hand, with four fingers and a hinge.

So did Del-Kurj and Shannon. Althor, Soz, Chaniece, Aniece, and Kelric had hands like hers, with four fingers, a thumb, and no hinge. But Denric and Vyrl had been born with partial thumbs and hinges, their hands a mix of the two types, functional as neither. For Vyrl, the hinge had been too deformed to reconstruct, so the doctors rebuilt his hand to the human norm, with four fingers and a thumb. For Denric, they fixed both his thumb and the hinge. It gave him advantages of both structures, though having a thumb made it harder to use the hinge.

“Your hands had problems because you aren’t pure Rillian,” Jase told him.

“You said I was like a Blue Dale Archer.” Denric set his hand back on the table, palm down. “But I don’t feel that way. Not like my brother Shannon.”

“Genetically you aren’t as close as Shannon,” Jase said. “But you do have some of the DNA.” He paused, his face thoughtful. “We know much less about the Archers than the Rillians. We have their DNA, but we’ve only just met living, full-blooded Archers. They have the same bone structure as everyone else here, but their skeletons are less massive, more airy. Their brains are markedly different from Rillians. Actually, from any other humans we’ve classified.”

Roca thought of Shannon, her distant, otherworldly son. “Archers go into trances easily, yes?”

“We think so,” Jase said. “They apparently have less analytic ability than most humans and more emotional capacity. They don’t seem to separate their emotions into individual moods. It all flows together for them.”

It fit with what Roca knew of Shannon. “They’re restless, too. They don’t like cities.”

“They don’t even seem comfortable about me other humans here,” Jase said.

Colonel Majda spoke. “You said Lyshriol had a third class.”

Jase rubbed his chin. “Possibly me women called Memories. We aren’t sure yet if they differ enough from the Rillians to qualify as a different class.”

“What about my husband?” Roca asked. She didn’t like to discuss her family’s private life and genetics in front of these officers, who were at best only acquaintances. Many of them were strangers she knew only by name and their dossiers. But she would do whatever was necessary to heal Eldri’s wounds, including those that went beyond his physical injuries.