Suddenly Kurj was bending over her, his voice buried in the roar in her ears, the roar of her pain, the roar of her own blood.
“Mother!” He grasped her arm. “Gods almighty.”
Roca groaned, her body wracked by a brutal contraction. “Kurj, you mustn’t—” Her eyes watered as the contraction worsened. “Mustn’t shoot him—ah, no.”
Other people were crowding into the hall, Skolian soldiers striding among the Lyshrioli warriors. Kurj shouted orders, calling for a doctor. Roca could barely hear for the roaring in her ears.
“Mother, you can’t die.” His words sounded so strange. She hadn’t heard the cold, clipped tones of Iotic in months.
Roca grabbed his sleeve. “Kurj! You must not hurt him.”
“Who?” His gaze hardened. “Who did this to you?”
“Listen!” She dug her fingers into his arm. “These people have protected me—ah!” She squeezed her eyes shut as another contraction hit.
“Primary Skolia!” A medic knelt next to Roca and did a quick exam. “She’s gone into labor. We have to get her to the port.”
Roca spoke through clenched teeth. “Won’t make port.” She could see Eldri now, down in the hall, struggling with Kurj’s soldiers. They were holding him back, keeping him away from her.
“Let him go.” She could barely talk past the pain. Medics crowded around her, bringing an air stretcher and blocking her view.
“No!” Roca shook Kurj’s arm. “I won’t leave!”
No one listened. They loaded her onto the stretcher and went down the stairs.
Then she saw who else was in the hall.
Avaril.
He was standing by the table, surrounded by his men, his sword lowered, his face stunned as he watched her. Skolians filled the room, no longer attacking Eldri’s men, but keeping them back. Eldri struggled against the Jagernauts who were holding him, his face flushed.
“Let him go!” Roca ordered as the medics carried her past the Jagernauts. She used her strongest Assembly voice, which had cowed more than a few delegates.
The startled Jagernauts, normally unflappable and impassive, released Eldri before Kurj had a chance to countermand the order Roca didn’t have the authority to give. Eldri lunged forward and ran alongside the stretcher as the medics kept going. His Trillian words poured over Roca like water. “Where are they taking you? Who are these people? Our son!”
She grabbed his hand and answered in Trillian, one of the few languages Kurj could neither understand nor translate. She longed for Eldri to stay with her, wanted it intensely, but it was impossible. Kurj was already moving to separate them. She spoke fast. “I swear I will find a way to come back. I swear it. Remember that.” Another contraction hit and she cried out, her grip tightening on his hand.
Then Kurj was dragging him away. The medics ran out of the hall into the ruins of the courtyard. The remains of the battle went by in a blur, as Skolians backed Lyshrioli warriors against the walls. The medics sped onward, taking Roca to the shuttle, and Kurj easily caught up with them.
The hatch of the ship loomed into view so fast, Roca hardly knew they had reached it before they were inside. She pushed up on her elbow, forcing out her words through another contraction. “No—can’t take off—the acceleration—”
“No acceleration.” The medic eased her onto a robot-gurney. “We’re only going to the port.”
Craning her head around, Roca saw the airlock shimmer closed, leaving a solid hull. She felt only a gentle lift as the shuttle rose into the air. Then she could think no more, caught in the grip of another contraction so intense, her nanomeds couldn’t ease the pain.
The doctors moved fast, preparing her for birth. She was vaguely aware of Kurj hanging back, flattened against the hull behind her head. Medics draped her body, giving her privacy, but nothing could hide her agonized face. Kurj’s panic surged against her mind. He had faced every horror of war without flinching, but now, in this, he was terrified.
Another contraction wrung her body and Roca screamed, her mind blanking to everything but the need to PUSH.
“It’s coming!” a medic shouted. “Harder!”
She pushed again, tears streaming down her face. Again—
With a huge release, the pain ended. Roca gasped—and in that instant she heard a cry, a great protest to the universe. Straining up on her elbows, she looked past her draped knees to see the medics holding a baby, a boy, while they cleaned his face and body.
“Ah, gods.” She collapsed back and groaned with another contraction. She hadn’t finished; she still had to deliver the afterbirth. All she could think was that the baby should be held by his kin, not strangers.
“Kurj.” She croaked out the name. “Your brother—take your brother.”
“What?” He jerked away from the hull. “You want me to hold it?”
“Y-yes.” Roca could say no more, caught in the wrenching delivery of the afterbirth.
Mercifully, it soon ended. Finally she was free of pain. She was dimly aware of medics cleaning her, but she could think only of the baby. Her son. Eldri’s son.
Suddenly she remembered—gods, no, she had asked Kurj to take the baby. In that terrible instant, she remembered Kurj raising his Jumbler to Eldri. Frantic, she twisted around—
And saw a miracle.
Kurj was standing behind her with his feet planted wide, an indomitable giant. Cradling the tiny baby in his arms, he swayed back and forth in a rhythm humans had known by instinct since the beginning of their species.
Roca fell back on the pallet, wondering at the power of birth, that it could disarm even Kurj. By everything that mattered in love and fatherhood, it was Eldri who should be holding the baby now, Eldri who should have witnessed this miracle, Eldri who should be bonding with his son. But if the magic of this moment convinced Kurj to let his half brother live and thus made possible the day when the boy could know his father, she would accept that blessing.
“My son,” Roca whispered.
Another flutter of activity, and Kurj was putting the swaddled baby in her arms. Roca bent her head over her child. “Is he all right?” She looked up at the people clustered around her. “My fall down the stairs, did it—?”
One of the doctors answered, a woman with graying hair. “He is fine, Lady Roca. Healthy and hale.”
“Thank you,” Roca whispered. She held the infant against her body, looking down into his wide blue eyes. “So beautiful. You are such a beautiful boy.” He stared up at her, and she knew he recognized her voice.
“He is—astonishing.” Kurj knelt with one knee on a seat that jutted out from the hull, bringing his eyes level with hers. Incredibly, his gaze was tender when he glanced at the baby. But it turned into steel when he shifted his attention to Roca. “Was it the man with the red hair? The wild one on the table?”
She tensed. “You will not harm my son’s father.”
He said nothing.
“Kurj.” She recognized his expression. He had looked that way the day he had tried to kill Darr. “Listen to me.”
“I will take care of you,” he said.
She scowled. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I did after I had you and I will do so now.”
“This is different.”
“You heard me, Kurj.” She felt as if she were talking to a stone wall. “You will not hurt his father.”
A muscle twitched under his eye. “You didn’t want Darr hurt either.”
“Darr has nothing to do with this.” She willed him to listen. “Eldri never hurt me. And I married him of my own free will.”
“You married him?” Kurj stared at her. “That barbarian with the sword?”
“Yes.”
“So.” He sounded like he was gritting his teeth.
“You won’t hurt him.”
He said nothing.
“Damn it, Kurj. If you kill the man I love, I will never be able to bear your presence again.”
“Love?” He sounded more
bewildered than angry. “You cannot love such a man. You are a Ruby heir.”
“And he is my consort.” Roca was growing desperate. She was so very, very tired. And the baby was nuzzling her shirt, wanting to nurse. She couldn’t do it in front of Kurj. She needed privacy, needed to be away from his deadly contradictions, his unbending love and anger. “Promise me you will never hurt Eldri.”
“Who is Eldri?”
“My husband.”
No answer.
“Kurj!”
His face remained impassive.
“He is a Ruby psion,” Roca said.
Nothing in his face relented. “Absurd.”
“It is true.”
“A wild tale, Mother.”
Roca knew she couldn’t keep this up. Kurj might think she spoke from desperation, but he would soon learn the truth. The proof in Eldri’s DNA would give her more to negotiate with. Until then, she had to make sure Kurj didn’t kill him.
“Make me a bargain,” she said raggedly. “If I swear I will never return to him, swear you will never harm him.”
He clenched the gurney. “You love him that much?”
“Yes.”
“And you would never see him again?”
“Yes.” She wanted to choke on the word.
He averted his eyes. “Very well. I agree.”
“Look at me.”
He raised his gaze.
“Now promise,” she said.
He said nothing.
“Kurj.”
It was a long moment before he answered. Finally he forced out the words. “You have my word.”
“You must not betray my trust.”
“Never again.” He spoke bitterly. “I did once. This happened.”
“You should keep your promises because it is right. Not because you want no more brothers.”
His voice suddenly cracked. “Gods, I thought you died. I thought I had killed you.”
His emotion startled her. He so rarely let her see how he felt, and he had walled his mind off from her. She spoke more gently. “Can we not find a way to trust each other?”
He started to answer, then shook his head, as if he couldn’t bear to reveal any more emotions or even let himself feel them. Instead he touched the baby’s head. “What will you call him?”
“Eldrin,” she murmured. “Eldrin Jarac Valdoria. For his father and mine.”
He wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“Kurj.”
He slowly raised his gaze to hers. “Would that I could make the universe perfect for you. But I cannot. I can only do my flawed, bitter best.”
She swallowed. “I fear your vision of perfection.”
No answer.
She spoke softly. “Are we going to war with the Traders?”
“The invasion plans are under way.”
“So you won.”
“By two votes.” He sounded weary rather than triumphant.
“Two votes.” She wanted to grieve for the deaths those two votes would inflict on humanity. “I hope you are proud of it.”
“Proud?” This time he didn’t try to hide his pain. “I have no pride in destruction or death. But I will do whatever is necessary to protect my people and those I love.”
“I know.” A tear ran down her face.
She felt too worn-out to say more. These people believed they were taking her to safety, comfort, the life she was destined to live. But regardless of what they wanted to think, they were ripping her away from the home she loved.
Part Three:
Father of Webs
19
Homecoming
The docking bay alone was larger than a battle cruiser. Roca stood on the platform at the end of a high catwalk, cradling Eldrin as she watched the ships, cranes, and machines below. The frigate that had brought her to the Orbiter sat clamped in its docking pad. Kurj had just finished registering with the port authority; now he was striding toward a lift that would bring him up to this platform.
Eldrin stirred in his sleep, and pressed his hinged, four-digit hand against her arm. She smiled at him, her sadness easing. He had slept through the takeoff from Lyshriol, ensconced in a bubble that protected him from acceleration. He seemed similarly unimpressed now with this space station. In her more objective moments, she realized that although he was a hearty, healthy child, he wasn’t that different from any other child born throughout the history of the human race. But most of the time she marveled that she had somehow, incredibly, given birth to this child who was so much more extraordinary than any other baby ever born.
She wished his father could be with them.
Kurj boarded the lift, which wasn’t much more than a metal square with a rail. As it rose from the ground, he waved to Roca, but he let no emotion show on his face. It didn’t fool her. Behind that impassive demeanor, he hid a heart capable of far more feeling and forgiveness than he let himself acknowledge. She just wished he could forgive himself. It wasn’t his fault she had made flawed decisions in her life, that Darr had hurt her, or that the Traders wanted to do the same to the entire Imperialate. Kurj took the responsibilities of an empire onto his shoulders until she thought he would break under the weight.
The lift stopped at the platform and Kurj pushed aside the rail. “All set?”
“Yes.” Roca had little else to say. She had hardly spoken to him in the three days it had taken to reach the Orbiter. He didn’t push. He knew he had gone too far when he threatened her husband. For all her thoughts about forgiveness, she knew that if he had hurt Eldri, she could never have forgiven him.
Roca glanced at the tiny child in her arms. Would he too turn hard someday? Over the decades, she had seen the joy in Kurj turn to stone. Given time and a gentler life, he might have healed after Darr. Instead he had become a Jagernaut. Nothing could take away the hells he had lived since then.
“We all have our personal hells,” he said softly.
She looked up with a start and found him watching her, his eyes unshielded. His height disconcerted her after she had lived for so long among the Lyshrioli. She didn’t even reach his shoulder.
“We should go.” She heard the chill in her voice.
“All right.” He mentally withdrew and his inner eyelids lowered.
They crossed a catwalk to the arrivals gate. The rotation of the Orbiter produced a lower apparent gravity than what Roca had become used to on Lyshriol, and it felt strange now. However, her internal systems had a memory of dealing with the Orbiter environment and her body was adapting quickly.
Had she and Kurj come on a commercial flight, they would have disembarked in a lounge with all the amenities travelers took for granted. This gate was spare, dedicated to military personnel rather than civilians. Roca had never been in this area of the Orbiter. Soldiers did double takes as she and Kurj passed. She felt their astonishment at his large size and her appearance. Many recognized Kurj, though not all. A few wondered if she and Kurj were brother and sister. Mercifully, only one person assumed they were a husband and wife with their child.
The magrail station was a few hundred meters from the gate, down a carpeted hall. White Luminex walls lit the corridor, and panels of swirling holoart. The lovely effect surprised Roca; she hadn’t realized ISC would seek to make its port areas attractive for its soldiers. Given the utilitarian aspect of the gate itself, the designers had only been partially successful, but at least they made the attempt.
A magcar waited at the platform like a huge bullet. As she and Kurj settled inside, facing each other across the small cabin, the baby began to fuss. Roca cooed to him, but he kept twisting in her arms. She could tell from the vague impressions in his mind that he wasn’t hungry. He wanted something else, she wasn’t sure what.
“It’s all right, beautiful boy,” she murmured. He flailed his small fists, his face scrunched up. So she sang to him, a Trillian ballad Eldri had often crooned to her when they lay curled in bed. The baby quieted immediately, his body relaxing as he snuggled against
her, his eyes closing.
“That’s a beautiful song,” Kurj said.
She looked up, startled. Absorbed in her link with the baby, she had forgotten he was there. “His father used to sing it to me.”
Kurj stiffened and turned away.
Roca wanted to entreat him to give Eldri a chance. But she knew Kurj; if she pushed, it would only make him more adamant against her husband.
They shot through tunnels in the Orbiter’s hull, which housed the military command centers of the station. Then the car whirred into the main habitat. The spherical Orbiter had an inner surface area of over fifty square kilometers, divided into two hemispheres, Ground and Sky. Ground consisted of meadows, hills, and mountains, with the ethereal City in its center, its diaphanous beauty hiding an underlying strength. It reminded Roca of her sister, Dehya, whose delicate beauty hid a great strength of character.
It never ceased to amaze Roca that the great blue dome of Sky took up half the living area. The Sun Lamp moved across it during the day, and lights sparkled at night, like stars. Although lovely, it was a remarkably inefficient use of space. But the Orbiter housed many powerful government figures; to provide for them, it was designed for beauty rather than efficiency.
The “gravity” created by the Orbiter’s rotation pointed down at its equator, which bisected Ground and Sky. The rotation poles pierced the horizon where Ground and Sky met. As a person walked from the equator toward the poles, gravity decreased and the ground sloped upward, until one became weightless at the poles and the “ground” was vertical. They could walk just as easily on Sky, if they wished.
The Ruby Dynasty lived in a valley about halfway to the poles. Roca’s father, Jarac, had chosen that region because the lower gravity was easier on his huge size. Twenty years ago, Kurj had named the area Valley, just as he named Ground, Sky, and City. Jarac agreed they were sensible names. Roca’s mother had wanted to know if they intended to name space “Space” and their ships “Ship.” Roca didn’t think her son or father had caught the joke, though, given how seriously they considered the idea.
“Why are you smiling?” Kurj asked.