What alien had stolen his girlfriend and put this stranger in her place? Before he could protest, a bustle came from across the room and a small crowd of people swept into the station.
"Mac!" Del called.
Mac strode over to them, his legs eating up distance, Cameron and Tyra at his side. And Staver! Then they were all gathering around Del, everyone talking at once.
"We've already spoken to the concert organizers," Mac told Del. "They don't expect you to perform."
"I have to!" Del said. "Don't make me give this one up."
"You'll have others," Ricki said.
Del couldn't believe it. She had heard Kelric. She knew his brother would call an end to his career. His stupid fight in the cell had put on the finishing touch.
He turned to Tyra, but what could he say? She was Kelric's officer. Cameron stood next to her, his face impassive, his mind protected. When Del tried to speak to him, Cameron shook his head.
Del swung back to Mac. "Please."
Mac bit his lip, his face strained. Then he turned to the general. "Surely we can do something."
Fitz shook his head. "I'm sorry."
"Let yourself heal," Staver said. With a quiet eloquence, he added, "I owe you my life as a free man, probably even my sanity. You sacrificed yourself for me. I'll always be in your debt." He nodded to Ricki, who was standing with Fitz. "Listen to them. Take care of yourself. You'll have other concerts."
Del wished it were true. He wished a lot, that he could take away the pain his family had suffered from the Aristos, that Staver would find his wife, that Tarex would pay, that the Traders would goddamned leave the rest of humanity alone. But none of it would happen. He couldn't do anything. The Aristos would go on with their crimes against the human race, and the Allieds would look the other way because they didn't want to hear a truth that ugly.
General McLane glanced at Cameron. "Do you have a flyer?"
The Marine nodded. "Annapolis issued us one."
"We can all go with Del," Tyra said. "Ricki and Mac, too."
"No." Del regarded Ricki. "You and Mac go with someone else." As much as he knew they were acting in what they considered his best interest, it still felt like a betrayal. His bodyguards had to do their job, but Ricki and Mac could have given him support. Even if it hadn't done any good, it mattered to him.
Incredibly, Fitz looked as if he felt as bad about all this as the others. To Mac, he said, "Do you have another flyer?"
Mac spoke awkwardly. "Not here."
"I took a fly-taxi here," Ricki said.
Del wanted to say, So take one home. Instead he told himself to grow up. Then he said, "You might as well ride with me, then." He wasn't going anywhere, except to the end of his dreams.
"Annapolis, hell," Ricki said. "Cameron, get this flyer on the right course." She, Mac, and Staver were with Del in the passenger section while Cameron and Tyra sat up front.
"We'll only be twenty minutes late," Ricki told Del. "Jenny Summerland can play that much longer. Your band is ready to go on."
"What the flipping hell are you telling him?" Mac demanded.
Del stared at Ricki while his heart did a dance. "You were faking out McLane!"
"Of course I was faking McLane." She scowled at him. "You're an empath. You should have known."
Del had been too harried trying to control his own rage to concentrate on anyone else. "Why would you fake him?"
She leaned forward. "Because General Ramrod wasn't going to let us take you anywhere if he thought we'd override his orders."
"We can't take Del to that concert," Mac said. "Fitz would hit the roof. Del's family would hit the roof. God, Ricki, the president of the Allied Worlds of Earth would hit the roof."
"Interstellar civilizations don't have roofs," Ricki said.
Mac groaned. Then he motioned at Tyra and Cameron. "They won't let you do it."
"Tyra?" Del asked.
She gave him an incredulous look. "Do you have any idea what your brother would do to me if I disobeyed his orders?"
"Did he order me to stay away from the concert?" Del asked.
"No," Cameron said from the pilot's seat. "He didn't."
Tyra gave him a sour look. "He didn't know Del was scheduled to do a concert."
Del held back his protest. Even if he could push Tyra into letting him do the concert, which was as likely as his earning a doctorate in inversion physics, Kelric would probably have her court-martialed for it. Del couldn't ask her to risk that, especially after everything he had put her through. She was already in enough trouble with his brother.
Del forced out the difficult words. "I understand." To Cameron, he added, "I'm sorry I knocked you out in the port."
Instead of maintaining his stony silence, Cameron said, "You really do know martial arts." Incredibly, he laughed. "I can't believe you put me out. I should hire you as my bodyguard."
Del gaped at him. He had expected Cameron to be angry. Tyra was furious at someone, but he didn't know who she felt that way about; she kept her mind too well shielded for anything specific to come through.
"Del," Tyra said. When he looked at her, she spoke quietly. "What you did was brave. I've faced death during combat without a flinch, but I don't know if I could have made the choices you did when you went for Staver on Tarex's yacht."
Of all the responses he had expected, this wasn't even close. She thought he had more courage than a Jagernaut? That was crazy.
Tyra leaned over Cameron's seat. "You're off course, mister. You're going the wrong direction."
"Tyra, no." Del had to force out the words, because he wanted to shout Yes, yes, yes! "You can't."
Her eyes glinted. "It's true, you know. Your brother never ordered me not to take you to the concert."
"You can't argue semantics with Kelric," Del said. "Believe me, I know. He'll strip you of your rank and put you on trial."
"Maybe." Tyra said. "But if he isn't willing to listen to my reasons, he isn't the commander I've admired."
"That's nuts," Del told her. "If he's so hard-nosed even with me, he won't listen to you."
"Oh, Del," she said. "Don't you know? He's tougher on you than anyone else alive. Because he loves you."
Del couldn't answer. His relationship with Kelric was too complicated for him to talk about.
Tyra frowned at Cameron. "So fix the damn course."
"Cameron, don't do it," Mac warned.
Cameron looked back at him. "Sorry, Major Tyler." Then he changed course.
Mac raised his comm, but Tyra acted faster, grabbing his arm. She peeled the comm off his wrist, then laid his hand on the arm of his seat. Mac stared at her, his face pale.
But he didn't protest.
As the flyer banked in a circle toward Washington, D.C., Ricki said, "We've got a concert tonight!"
XXVII: One Song
The sea of people went on and on, across the Capitol Mall in Washington, D.C., filling streets, flowing into every open space. Jenny Summerland was singing with Rex and Mind Mix on the huge stage in the mall, their figures highlighted against clouds of billowing holographic color. Lights flared, their backup singers danced, and the stage glittered.
Del's flyer landed behind the stage in a flare of exhaust. The audience assumed it was part of the show, cheering in a tidal wave of noise. Del jumped down while the engines were roaring and ran through the steam curling around the flyer. Staver ran at his side while Ricki and Mac searched out the crews for Del's performance.
Del began to ease down his mental shields as he prepared to face the audience. With so many people, he had to take it slow.
Staver? he thought, doing a "sound" test.
Are you sure you're up for this? Staver asked.
I'm fine, Del lied. Did you get the provider free?
From Tarex, yes, Staver thought. But we can't get her off Earth. His people are watching too closely, and the Allieds are searching. If they find out we've hidden her, they'll arrest us for kidnapping.
Gods, why? Don't they know what Tarex did to her? To you?
Staver's face creased with anger. The police analyzed his responses to their questions. He thinks he's done nothing wrong. When he says he honored me as his guest, he believes it. So it registers as truth. Before he put me in the cold storage unit, he had cleaned the neural dust off my skin, so even that evidence was gone. The police are investigating, but he has them convinced I started a smear campaign. He acts the perfect lord.
Del gritted his teeth. Right. He just enslaves billions of people.
The Allieds can't comprehend Aristos. And Tarex is far more powerful than you or me, enough even to pull General McLane into this mess. Frustration leaked into his thought. Unless we can divert Tarex's attention, we're going to lose the girl back to him. And we're all out of diversions.
Maybe not. They had reached the stairs up to backstage. Jenny's soaring voice came from above, muted by layers of wood and flexi-metal. Del took the stairs two at a time, driven by his urgency, until Staver fell behind.
Del! Staver thought. You can't go onstage in that shirt. It has blood all over the back.
Del hadn't realized he was bleeding again. He had probably torn open his wounds during his fight in jail. But he couldn't stop. He had to focus, prepare for the million minds he would face when he went onstage. He reached the top of the stairs, heaved open the door, and ran down the corridor inside.
A tech caught up with him. "Del! What do you need?"
Still running, Del yanked off his shirt. "My vest. It's the leather one with metal conduits. Ask Bonnie. She knows which one."
The tech took off with his shirt, running ahead. Jenny had stopped singing, and the crowd was applauding.
Another tech fell into step with Del. "Your band is all set. Jud Taborian played with Mind Mix, so he's already on stage. We have it all—" She stopped, her mouth open as she stared at his torso. "Good Lord, who worked you over?"
"It's nothing." Del was too wound up to say more.
The other tech came jogging back to him, carrying a black vest. "Bonnie said this is the one . . ." She trailed off as she looked at his torso. "What happened?"
"Nothing. The vest will cover it." Not his arms, but he was past caring. He pulled it on, wincing as it scraped his back, but it would bother him less than a form-fitting shirt. The techs tried to help, but he just shook his head and kept going.
They soon reached the scaffolding of a tower that rose at the back of the stage. Techs swarmed around the tower and toward Del. He joined them—and stopped. He sensed Ricki.
Del spun around to see Ricki running toward him with Staver. Del wanted to move, go, get on the lift that would take him up the tower. He forced himself to stay put. The techs around him were talking on comms, checking his clothes, checking the lift.
Ricki stopped in front of Del, breathing hard, with Staver at her side. "Del, what are you doing?" she asked.
"What do you think?" His tension was rising, matching the crowd. "I'm going to sing."
"I don't know what this is about," Ricki said. "But I want your word. You won't do anything but sing out there."
He met her gaze. "You have my word."
"I have people here," Staver told him. "Do you want me to put them in the control booth?"
"What?" Del asked.
"Do you want Staver's people in the booth?" Ricki asked.
"Why?" Del asked.
Staver regarded him steadily. "So they can keep out anyone who tries to come in. For whatever reason."
"Like to stop your performance." Ricki scowled at Del. "Why they would want to stop it, I have no idea."
Del didn't know, either. Why would he need Staver's people in the booth? But something was rising in him, a fury that wouldn't let go. His gaze never wavered. "Yes, I'd like his people there. Only them. And don't let anyone on the stage but the band. Not Mac. Especially not Mac. No matter what he says. Keep off Cameron and Tyra, too, if you can."
"Why would they want to get on the stage?" she asked.
"Just trust me," he said.
She looked at him as if he had grown a second head.
"Ricki?" he said.
She drew in a breath. "All right. We'll do what we can."
Del knew what a leap of faith it took for her to trust anyone. He hoped that after tonight, she wouldn't feel he had betrayed her trust.
A tech came over to Del and handed him a mike. "Jud Taborian wants to know if they should start 'Emeralds.' "
"Not 'Emeralds,' " Del said. Because he knew now what he was going to do. "Tell them the 'Carnelians Finale.' "
"Will do." The tech went off, talking on her comm.
"'Carnelians'?" Ricki looked relieved. "That's gorgeous."
Del knew she meant the music of the original. "You've only heard the first version."
"Why would anyone stop you from singing it?" she asked.
Del had no idea what would happen, and he wasn't calm enough to think it through. He was going purely on instinct. "Just keep them off the stage and out of the booth." With that, he strode to the tower. He felt Ricki watching him, felt her puzzled curiosity.
The lift in the tower took Del up through the dark. Only faint purple safety bulbs lit the way as the lift rose. When it reached the platform at the top, Del was far above the ground, high in the wind and the night. The introduction to the "Carnelians Finale" began, a relentless chord progression that repeated over and over. As the music swelled with power, the audience applauded. Del felt their response; this was new, strong, vigorous. They wanted more.
Del locked the controls so no one could call the lift back down. Then he raised his hand in a prearranged signal. Clouds of dry ice billowed as purple lights flared under the tower, shining on him from below. Lasers swept over him, drawing glints from the metal in his clothes and hair. The audience shouted their approval. Holo-cams swung around the stage on platforms and sound-orbs spun everywhere. They were sending the concert out on the mesh, across the planet, and into space.
The music swelled with its relentless beat. Del walked to the end of the platform—and kept going, down a ramp. It morphed as he walked, sloping before him, lowering him to the ground. Holos brightened around him, emerald at first, then shading into red when the techs realized he had switched to another song.
As Del reached the stage, the music hit its high point, driving him onward. He strode to the front of the stage and stood with his head lifted while the song crashed to its finale.
And it began again.
In the relative quiet of the opening, Del called out to the audience. "Are you ready? Ready to hear some music?"
The roar of agreement buffeted him, huge and full of power. It fueled his energy, and he sent it back out, riding the crest. "I've got something new. A song for those who share the stars with us." He lifted his chin and shouted, "This is for you, Tarex."
The drums joined the driving melody, and Del sang, his lyrics very much like the original. But he did this version hard and fast, one line after another, barely pausing for breath:
You dehumanized us
Your critics, they all died
You answered defiance
With massive genocide
You hunt us as your prey
You assault and enslave
You force us bound to stay
For pleasures that you crave
Listen to me, he thought to the audience. Hear me. He veered away from the original. Instead, he sang the words he had created in the deep of night, born of his worst memories, born out of the pain suffered by the people he loved. He sang hard and furious, filled with rage, sang to the Aristos, the sons of the Carnelian Throne, whose emperor presided over the most monstrous empire in human history:
You broke my brother
You Carnelian Sons
You tortured my mother
In your war of suns
You killed my brothers
You shattered my father
You murdered my sister
Ex
pecting no others
Del heaved in a breath and sang what he knew, no prettied lyrics, just the truth.
Well, I'm no golden hero
In the blazing skies
I'm no fair-haired genius
Hiding in disguise
His voice rose, his anger adding power as he shouted:
I'm only a singer
It's all I can do
But I'm still alive
And I'm coming after you
The morpher thundered, Anne's drums filled the night, Randall's stringer wailed. And Del sang:
I'll never kneel
Beneath your Highton stare
I'm here and I'm real
I'll lay your guilt bare
When the music reached its crescendo, he threw back his head, his legs planted wide as he shouted into the mike.
I'll never kneel
Beneath your Highton stare
I'm here and I'm real
Your living nightmare!
He held the final note, his fist clenched around the mike and raised to the stars as the song finished in one powerful, crashing chord.
Mac was talking to a mech-tech behind the stage when the "Carnelians Finale" began. He stopped in mid-sentence, unable to believe he was hearing that ominous progression of chords.
"Mac?" the tech asked. "Hello?"
"I have to go," Mac said. He spun around and ran for the stage. By the time he reached the top of the stairs that led backstage, he was gasping for breath, his sixty-year-old heart laboring. But he didn't pause as he yanked open the door and ran down the corridor. "Carnelians" kept on, inexorable.
Mac grabbed the audio-comm hanging on a cord around his neck and shoved it into his ear. "Del, can you hear me? Del!"
No response. Del rarely answered during a concert, but Mac could always tell the comm was active because he could hear Del breathing and the noise of the crowd. Now he was getting nothing.