“If people know which genes do the trick,” Tiller asked, “can’t they engineer more of us?”
“It’s been tried.” My grandmother had been “born” that way. “But the Kyle genes are linked to lethal recessives. Even if an engineered fetus survives, its brain is often abnormal. The fetus also reacts strongly to its environment, so cloning is difficult.” I smiled slightly. “The best method for making psions is the old-fashioned way, with a man and a woman.”
“Ah.” Tiller smiled slightly. Then his face turned thoughtful. “I had always thought empaths were a result of the Rhon Project.”
“Not exactly,” Rex said. “Doctor Rhon was trying to help empaths develop a high resistance to pain.” Bitterly he added, “He created the Aristos instead.”
Tiller sat up straighter. “The Skolian government created the Aristos?”
I spoke shortly. “No.”
“Your government isn’t called the Rhon?”
Soz? Rex thought. Do you want me to stop?
I tried to relax. No. Go ahead.
“We’re governed by the Assembly,” Rex said. “It’s an elected council of leaders.”
“Then what’s Rhon?” Tiller asked.
“He was a geneticist,” Rex said. “The word is also used for the descendents of a human dynasty that ruled the Ruby Empire five thousand years ago.”
“Oh.” Tiller looked embarrassed. “I’m afraid I don’t know much Skolian history.”
“It’s your history too,” I said. “We all come from the same place.”
“I have to admit,’ Tiller said, “I just never understood how that could be.”
I spoke wryly. “Join the club.” As in, the entire human race. “All we know, really, is that six thousand years ago, an alien race kidnapped humans from Earth, stranded them on some planet, and disappeared.” My ancestors had never figured out the point of that bizarre exercise, seeing as their kidnappers never told them why.
The displaced humans had had nothing but the ruined starships left behind by their abductors. They eventually used the libraries in those vessels to develop star travel and establish the Ruby Empire, an interstellar civilization. The empire fell after only a few centuries, though, stranding its colonies. It took thousands of years for my ancestors to recover space flight, but they still managed it before Earth. In Earth’s twenty-first century, when her people finally attained the stars, they got one hell of a jolt. We were already here, busily building empires. We and the Allieds had intermingled since then, until now, less than two centuries later, it was hard to believe we had been separated for millennia. But the differences were there, deep under the surface. It would be a long time before we trusted each other.
“Rhon worked with the descendants of the Ruby Dynasty, which had ruled the Ruby Empire.” Rex said. “He was trying to bring back the Kyle traits that had made them empaths and telepaths. That’s why people call members of the Ruby Dynasty ‘the Rhon.’ It refers to their Kyle rating. It’s too high to quantify.”
“I thought Rhon was their name,” Tiller said.
“Their family name is Skolia.” Rex spoke wryly. “That’s why we’re the Skolian Imperialate. They may only be titular rulers, but they’re still our royal family.”
Tiller rubbed his chin. “So Rhon selected for empathy and got Skolias, and he selected for pain resistance and got Aristos?”
“He didn’t mean to create the Aristos,” I said. “It’s what you would call an unfortunate side-effect.” Very unfortunate, as in one of the worst catastrophes in human history.
“I still don’t get it,” Tiller said. “What do the Traders want with empaths?”
I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to think about it. But he needed to know. “An Aristo’s brain only picks up emotions caused by pain. To decrease their sensitivity to it, the brain sends the signals to its pleasure centers. It makes the Aristo feel good. More than good. It’s ecstasy.” I had to stop myself from gritting my teeth. “They’re a bunch of sadists. They get off on torturing people.”
Tiller’s face paled. “But why empaths?”
I was having trouble breathing. A fan in the wall whirred, with a hiccup that grated on my nerves. “We send stronger signals. The stronger the empath, the—the more the Aristo—enjoys…” My fists clenched and my words balled into knots.
Tiller waited. But neither Rex nor I continued. Finally Tiller traced his finger through a winged icon above his screen. “I’ve sent a copy of your report to the Chief.” He shifted in his seat. “But unless this man breaks a law, we can’t do much.”
“Just be careful where you go,” I said. “Stay at home or here for the next few days.”
“All right.” He looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
After we left Tiller’s office, we headed to the lobby. I stopped before we had gone far, though. “Rex, I’ll meet you at the Inn.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just forgot to tell Tiller something.”
He touched my cheek, his finger lingering. “Soz…”
His uncharacteristic touch startled me. “I’m all right.”
“You’re sure?”
“Sure. I’m great.”
He brushed a curl of my hair out of my eyes. “I’ll see you later, yes?”
Why was he looking at me with that strange, tender look? “Of course.” It wasn’t like I was going anywhere.
After we split up, I went back and found Tiller’s door open. He was sitting on the edge of his desk reading a book.
“Tiller?” I said.
He looked up, his pleased surprise lightening my mood like a gust of cool air on a sweltering day. “Did you forget something?”
“No.” I came over to him. “I thought you wanted me to come back.”
He winced. “Am I that easy to read?”
I smiled. “Only to another empath.”
“I was just thinking—” His voice gentled. “It took a lot for you to come here.”
“All we did was talk.”
“Something hurt you, and our talk stirred it up.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“I wanted to say thanks, that’s all.” He pointed to the pen-sized computer on his armchair. “And for that. With a record of two high-ranking Imperial military officers saying I’m an empath, I might convince a grant committee at the university to sponsor my Kyle testing.”
“Well. Good.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was used to people speeding in the other direction when I came around. Thanks wasn’t a word I had much experience with.
“Here.” Tiller handed me his book.
I held it awkwardly, wondering what do. The book was old style, bound in soft cloth the color of ivory, with parchment pages inside instead of a holoscreen. My translator gave the title as Verses on a Windowpane, written in English.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Keep it. As a thank you gift.”
A gift? This Allied citizen who didn’t know me was giving me a gift simply for talking to him. For some reason my eyes were wet. Block, I thought. But the psicon didn’t flash.
#
Night had folded its cooling darkness around the city by the time I headed back to the hotel. I took speedwalks that bordered the streets, avoiding the nervoplex. I didn’t want to feel what it would tell me about myself. I already knew. I had lied to Rex and Tiller. I wasn’t fine. My mind had started to replay that scene, the one I wanted to forget, the one that had lived in my nightmares for so many years.
Ten years ago, I had been walking along a dirt path on Tams, for all appearances a normal citizen going about my business. A flycar had hummed by me, then stopped and backed up. In slow motion, I saw it happen again and again; Kryx Tarque, the Aristo governor, leaning out to look at me, lifting his long finger while his lips formed words: That one. I want that one.
That one. Me. Sauscony Valdoria.
I had run. But even a Jagernaut couldn’t outrun six armed soldiers plus an Ar
isto in a flycar. When they caught me, I faced a decision that haunted my memories: should I fight? I wanted to hurt them the way I knew Tarque planned to hurt me. But it would give away my military training. They would know they had someone far more interesting than a Tams citizen. They would investigate until they discovered my identity, not only my military rank but also the civilian title I carried. And then my life would become a nightmare.
Unless I waited until the odds were better, I would have no chance of escaping. So I fought like a frightened civilian instead of a Jagernaut. Tarque found it amusing. He took me to his estate in the hills and had me as his prisoner for three weeks. Late into one of those long Tams nights I finally managed to work free of the restraints he had used to tie my wrists to the bed.
Then I strangled him.
Rex had been trying for that entire three weeks to infiltrate the estate. He found me after I fled the house, when I was running across a field, my mind screaming from aftershocks of the pain. He caught me, held me tight, so tight, as if he feared I would vanish. His voice shook while he told me, again and again, that I would be all right.
But I wasn’t all right. Tarque had been the antithesis of an empath, a being with a mental cavity where his capacity for compassion should have been. Sadist and empath, parasite and host: his mind had been the negative of mine. When he concentrated on me, I fell into his emptiness, filling it for him, connecting us in a bond he craved even more than orgasm. He spoke in soft, loving murmurs while I screamed and screamed and screamed…
Rex and I left Tams that night. I spent only a few days in the hospital; Tarque hadn’t wanted his provider scarred, so my physical wounds were minor. But my doctors told me to see a heartbender. When I didn’t go, my CO ordered it. So I went and told the heartbender what she wanted to hear; I am, after all, an empath. In her report she said I would be all right, that I just needed time to heal.
As for my true feelings about what happened—if they had haunted me for ten years, that was my business and mine alone.
III
Psibernaut
The thick carpet in the hallway outside Rex’s room muffled my footfalls like a wine-red cloud. Real wood paneled the walls, glossy and red-hued. Next to Rex’s door, an ivory oval showed a palm-sized relief of a man with the tail of a fish. He was rising up in a spume of water, glistening drops of water spraying about his head and a trident held high in his hand. When I touched the pager, the door chimed like bells heard through sea waves lapping on a shore.
Rex’s voice came over a hidden speaker. “Come.”
I touched the door and it swung open, revealing a room paneled in that same sinfully luxuriant wood. A carpet covered the floor like burgundy velvet. The only light came from a lamp with a rose-glass shade. Rex sat in the middle of the bed, cross-legged on its wine-red cover, his head bent over his work. He was cleaning his Jumbler. Sections of the gun lay around him, black metal gleaming in the dusky light.
“Planning to shoot someone?” I asked, closing the door.
He glanced up as I crossed the room. “You’re the one who insists we clean them so often.”
I smiled amiably. “Clean and jumbled.” It was how I felt after my shower. I sat on the bed next to him. “I set up a guest account on the Inn’s system. We can upload our data on the Traders as soon as Taas and Helda get back from dinner.”
Rex nodded, bent over his weapon. He was polishing the ejector that fit into the accelerator dees inside the main body of the gun.
“I expected you to be out with that girl from the bar,” I said. “She seemed interested.”
He finished the ejector and went to work on the hand grip. “She’s young.”
“I thought you liked your women that way.”
“I guess I’m tired.”
I wondered at his mood. He had seemed subdued since we left the bar. It was odd; I would have thought seeing an Aristo would have wound him up. Something else was bothering him. I nudged his mind but he blocked me, keeping his mental doors closed.
“Rex.” I laid my hand on the grip of his gun, stopping his movements. “What’s wrong?”
He looked up at me for a moment. And then he said, “I’m going to retire.”
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He exhaled. “Soz, I’ll be forty-seven soon. All the other officers from my class at DMA have retired.” Neither of us said what he left out: or else died.
“You can’t retire.” I tried not to remember he had only been a year behind me at the Dieshan Military Academy. “I need you.”
He pushed his hand through his graying hair. “I’m not like you. I can’t put off getting old. Forty-seven isn’t just my age on file; it’s how I feel.” He shook his head. “I’ve had enough. I want to go home, have a family, dig in the garden.”
“You can have a family now.” I was talking too fast. “You don’t have to retire. And you can dig holes in the ground wherever you want. I’ll get you a special hole digging commission.” He wasn’t old. He wasn’t any older than me. Yes, my genetics gave me a potential lifespan twice the human average. But nowadays most humans lived into their second century. Rex had plenty of time.
He smiled, but it was like this strange mood he had tonight, gentle instead of wild. Then he really went over the cliff. He slid his hand around my neck, drew my head to his, and kissed me.
“Hey.” My protest came out muffled again his lips. “What are you doing?”
He pulled back enough to look at me. “Kissing you.”
“What for?”
“Well, let me see. Maybe it’s a new way of checking the weather.”
“Very funny. Why are you acting so strange?”
He spoke quietly. “Soz, I want you to marry me.”
He had gone crazy. “You drank too much at the bar.”
“I didn’t drink anything. We never got our ale.”
“I can’t marry you. It’s against regulations.” Good reasons existed for the ban on fraternization. It compromised the ability of the people involved to carry out their duties. It happened anyway, despite regulations, but it often ended in disaster. If I married Rex, no way could I send him into battle. I would spend the whole time obsessing on the fact that he might get hurt. Or worse.
Except he wanted to retire.
“I don’t want to retire,” I said. I wasn’t sure if that were true, but for the moment it would do.
“I’m not asking you to,” Rex said.
So. He wasn’t giving me an out. I tried to untangle my thoughts. Could I see Rex as a husband? He had been my closest friend for fifteen years, my confidant, someone I relied on. He was like a brother. In fact, I was closer to him than to any in my seemingly endless supply of brothers.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “What happened to these women you have pining for you all over the galaxy?”
“You’re evading my question.”
“What do you want to marry me for?”
He looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or growl. “Because I have a fetish for women with the romantic instincts of a cork.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Then I guess we’re compatible.”
“Sauscony, I’m serious about this.”
If he was calling me Sauscony, he had to be serious. No one called me Sauscony but my parents. “I would hate it if you left me.”
His voice softened. “Why would I do that?”
Could I say it? Sixteen years had passed, enough to dull the pain. “My first husband did.”
“I didn’t know you had been married more than once.”
“Twice.” My second husband had died a few years ago, not long after we had married. I couldn’t think about that now. Maybe never.
“Why did he leave?” Rex asked.
“It’s a boring story. You don’t want to hear it.”
Rex stroked a curl away from my face. “Tell me.”
It was a moment before I answered. “He hated what I did for a liv
ing. He was afraid I would die. He asked me to quit.”
“I thought you couldn’t quit.”
I stiffened. “I’m not indentured. I can retire if I want.”
“But if you do, don’t you lose your position in the Imperator’s line of succession?”
I wanted to say so what? I had never asked to be born into the remnant of a dynasty that had ruled a long dead empire. The Ruby Dynasty. The people Tiller had called Rhon, with no idea he was talking to one of them. My brother, Kurj, held the title of Imperator. He commanded Imperial Space Command—and they followed him with such intense loyalty that some observers considered him a de facto military dictator.
“Well, technically,” I told him, “you could say Kurj has no heirs. He’s my mother’s only child by her first husband and he has no children of his own.” No legitimate children, anyway.
“I thought he chose you to follow him.”
I shifted my weight. “I have seven full brothers and two sisters. He could have chosen any of us. Hell, he could have made my mother his heir.”
“Your mother?” Rex’s grin turned wicked. “No one would fight, then. They’d all be in love, too busy trying to look at her to think about going off to war.”
I scowled at him. “Only a man would say that.”
He laughed. “I don’t know about that. Helda might.”
In truth, I couldn’t imagine my mother as a war leader. She was a superb diplomat and a lovely ballet dancer, but the military was a foreign language to her.
Before I married anyone, I had to sort out how I felt about my heritage. I brought out my thoughts like a game player setting up a board with three pieces: the Imperator, the Assembly Key, and the Web Key. Or, more popularly, the Fist, Mind, and Heart of Skolia. As Imperator, my half-brother Kurj commanded the military. My aunt, the Assembly Key, served as the liaison from the Assembly to the Rhon. My father was the Key to the Web.
My mother had married my father because he was a Rhon psion. Kurj hated him, this man who had become his stepfather. If I married Rex, what would it be like for him? I wasn’t sure that was a fair comparison, though. Rex could handle Imperial intrigues. When my parents met, my father had been living on a primitive world. His people descended from a colony established in the Ruby Empire and isolated for thousands of years after its fall. Marriage to my mother had yanked him from that simple, rural culture into the morass of Skolian politics. In Kurj’s unforgiving view of the universe, any children produced by my father were flawed. But unless Kurj ever found a Rhon woman to marry, we were the only suitable candidates for his heir.