“That was Bolt.”
“Who?”
“Bolt. My spinal node.”
“Oh.” Now she was a few paces away, probably by her desk. He read her mood easily. She thought he was a bit unbalanced. It didn’t bother her as long as he wasn’t violent, which she assumed was impossible for a provider. If he wanted to talk to the air, that was fine. She was just glad he hadn’t left after she went to work. Finding him still here, in her quarters, gave her a sense of wonder. So he had strange ideas? He was a kind man, far better than the brusque taskmaker bosses she had served as a slave and now worked for; far better than the Aristo owner she had only seen twice in her life, who looked through her as if she didn’t exist; and far better than the gangs that roamed the spikelands. If Kelric was eccentric, so what? It added to his charm.
“I’m not crazy,” he grumbled. He was flattered by her vision of him, for the most part. But he didn’t want her to think he was a nut. “I really am a Jagernaut.”
“Really?” Her voice had the sound of a smile. “A Jagernaut.”
He glowered in her direction. “Yes, really.” Bolt, he thought. Talk to her.
“My greetings, Jeejon,” Bolt said.
“Hey!” She jumped. “How did you do that?”
He let go of the archway and felt along his gauntlet until he touched the mesh. Tapping it, he said, “This is a comm. It’s how Bolt spoke to you. I lost the internal links that let him ‘think’ to me, but then he linked to the gauntlets.” Kelric started to lose his balance and grabbed the doorframe again. “I still think to him, so that’s why you hear his voice and not mine.”
Gently she said, “That’s interesting.”
He scowled. “I may be blind, crippled, and almost dead, but I am not crazy.”
Alarm brushed her thoughts. “Why do you keep talking like that? You aren’t going to die.”
His annoyance faded. “Jeejon, I’m sorry. I wasn’t joking last night.” Quietly he said, “If I’m lucky, I’ve a few days left.”
“Don’t say that! Why would you die?”
“I’m sick inside.”
Her thoughts took on a frantic edge. “Could a nurse help? We maybe still got one in port.”
A nurse. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I need an ISC hospital that can treat Jagernauts, transplant or regenerate organs, perform brain surgery, rebuild biomech systems, and reseed nanomeds. At least some of those procedures will require blood transfusions. I’m a Rhon gamma humanoid with engineered alterations to my phenotype. Almost no one alive has my blood type. I’ll need a transfusion from a family member or one of the secured medical banks that stores Ruby Dynasty blood. If any of those even exists anymore. Can you find me all that?”
“Kelric, maybe if you lie down—”
“Jeejon, I need you to answer.” He knew he sounded crazy, but it was too important she understand. He didn’t have time to gentle his words.
She spoke softly, giving the answer he already knew. “Just to buy you passage off Spikedown would take more wealth than I could make in years.”
Frustration edged his voice. “I’ve more wealth than everyone on this asteroid combined, a thousand times over. It does me no good if I can’t touch it. Do you know what I did while you were gone? Talked to your console.” He clenched the doorframe. “I couldn’t find one doctor on Spikedown. Not one. This asteroid hasn’t a single link to anywhere else. Ships won’t even take messages offworld unless you pay them a ridiculous price.”
“We never had offworld links even when a psiberweb existed.” She exhaled. “The doctor left. Everyone who could get out is gone. Most ships that come here are in trouble. Like yours. Have to turn them away now. Allied dreadnoughts patrol the region, but they almost never land here. We got a few traders in dock, but pretty soon we’ll have to turn them away too. The port is falling apart and we got no resources to fix it.” In an aching voice she added, “I’m sorry. I checked every ship today trying to find you passage. There’s nothing.”
“I’m sorry too.” He swallowed. “But thank you for trying.”
She came over and laid her hand on his arm. “Would you like to lie down? You look tired.”
“I want to live, damn it.” He let go of the doorframe, then lost his balance and tripped. Flailing for a handhold, he stumbled into the living room and hit the table. As he hung on to it, vertigo swept over him.
“That’s the other thing,” he muttered. “My blasted vesti-whatever is going. Pretty soon I’ll be deaf and unable to balance.”
She offered her arm. “I’ll help you back to bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed. I want to go—” Where? “To an ISC base.”
“Can’t do that.”
“A big ISC base.”
“We only got Eubian and Allied ships in port. Doubt you’ll find anyone going into Skolian space.”
“I can’t go to the Allieds.” What, then, could he do? “We can go to an Allied starport that has Skolian flights. From there we’ll find passage to a Skolian world with a central ISC base.”
“The closest Skolian outposts are small,” Jeejon said. It was hard to tell whether she was humoring him or giving serious answers. Her mind suggested a bit of both. “They won’t have ships cleared for any ISC base, let alone a central one.”
She was right, of course. Getting clearance for what he needed would take longer than he had to live. If he convinced ISC he might possibly be who he claimed, it would expedite matters, but he still might walk into an assassination. And Naaj Majda was in charge. Although he knew her well as an officer, on a personal level she had always been a cipher. She might not want a long dead heir coming back as Imperator, particularly given that he could also claim substantial Majda assets.
What if he went to the Allieds? They had even less reason to believe his story. If he did convince them, they would take him into custody. A major Allied medical facility could help him, but they didn’t have the know-how to treat Jagernauts. They would have to bring in biomech experts, which only ISC could provide. It would all take time, energy, and political maneuvers.
But did an advantage exist in going to the Allieds? If he was in their custody, it would protect him from assassination. In fact, they would do their utmost to keep him away from ISC, so he couldn’t work at rebuilding the Skolian forces. With ISC, he had one chance: if he approached the right people, in time, he lived; if he guessed wrong, he died. With the Allieds he had more time to gather strength, to plan for the day when his family escaped and once again rose to power.
Of course, that was exactly what the Allieds wanted to avoid. For all he knew, they might assassinate him themselves. They certainly wouldn’t be overjoyed if he showed up. From what he had seen, though, they engaged in far fewer intrigues than Skolians, who in turn tolerated far fewer than the Traders. He had long suspected that the Allieds had a hard time comprehending the full threat posed by the Aristos because they simply couldn’t conceive of a people that odious.
Sometimes he thought this niceness of the Allieds made them weak. Other times he wondered if they had achieved a higher state of civilization than Skolia or Eube. Then again, they might turn the galaxy into one big shopping mall, which hardly seemed a heightened state of anything. He supposed it was better than interstellar wars that slagged empires, though.
What to do? He had to choose right the first time: he wouldn’t live long enough to make a second try.
What finally tilted the balance was his memory of his father’s words: Come home to us, my son.
He turned toward Jeejon. “Is there an Allied representative on Spikedown?”
“Major Montgomery,” she said.
“Who is she?”
“He. Some kind of Earth army officer. Allieds set him up here after they kicked out ESComm.”
“Good,” Kelric said. “Let’s go visit Montgomery.”
“A lot of people wish to see him, ma’am,” the lieutenant said. She spoke Eubic with an accent. “There aren??
?t enough hours to hold that many appointments.”
Jeejon exhaled. Kelric shifted in his chair, aware of her sitting next to him and the lieutenant at the desk in front of them. They were in an enclosed place, an office, he assumed. He felt the lieutenant’s weariness. She comprised the major’s entire staff.
“I’m sorry.” Jeejon sounded uncertain. “We don’t want to make any trouble.”
He could tell Jeejon never dealt with authority figures, other than to follow their directions. It astonished him that she was making herself speak up. She had been taught from birth never to argue, question, disobey, or push. It made him appreciate her support all the more. But he knew the lieutenant was about to put her off. It wasn’t hard to guess what would happen then: Jeejon would struggle to hold her ground, the lieutenant would get impatient, and they would soon be out the door.
Kelric spoke. Instead of Eubic, he used Highton, putting a cultured snap into his voice. “Lieutenant, we must see the major as soon as possible.”
Startled, she shifted her focus to him. Her thoughts brushed his mind: she wondered where Jeejon had found herself a man like Kelric. It irritated him. Why didn’t anyone wonder how he had found a woman like Jeejon? It was just as valid a question.
The lieutenant answered in Highton. “He’s not on Spikedown right now, sir.” She spoke the language reasonably well, though with a heavier accent than Eubic. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. Obviously he wasn’t an Aristo. He wore a gold slave collar. A provider, then. He didn’t have a provider’s diffidence, however. “Are you Skolian, Mr … . ?” She let the sentence hang, waiting for a name.
He knew if he claimed his Ruby Dynasty heritage, she would throw them out of her office for wasting her time. So he just said, “Valdoria. And yes, I’m Skolian.” He switched languages. “Do you speak Iotic? I’m more comfortable with it.”
The lieutenant paused. From her mind, he picked up that she was accessing a translator. At first he thought she had a node in her spine. Then he heard the tap of fingers on a panel and realized she was using a desk console.
“Iotic.” She whistled. “You’ve an impressive linguistic background, Mr. Valdoria. I thought no one spoke that anymore.” She tapped some more. “It says here only the upper Skolian noble Houses use Iotic.”
“Yes,” he said.
Jeejon stiffened. She had understood enough to fear he was going to tell another wacko story and ruin their chances of seeing the major.
Jeejon, I’m all right, he thought, focusing on her. He wasn’t sure if she received his words or only an impression, but she held back whatever she had been about to say.
“Are you claiming to be Skolian nobility?” the lieutenant asked. Although she didn’t believe him, his command of both Highton and Iotic kept her from dismissing him out of hand.
“Through marriage,” Kelric said. “The House of Majda.” He still used Iotic: not only did it give him advantage, it also supported his claim better than any argument he might make. He had no accent in Iotic, a fact her console would note if it had a worthwhile translator. His facility with the language wasn’t proof of his link to the Houses; he could have had a node implanted that helped him speak perfect Iotic. But if he could afford the exorbitant cost of such a selective upgrade, that at least implied he came from wealth and could eventually pay for his offworld passage.
“You’re wearing a provider’s collar,” she said in Iotic, her words slow enough to suggest she was using her console to translate. It didn’t surprise him that she had spoken Highton better; the army would have chosen her for this post according to her expertise in Eubian culture.
“My ship was attacked by Traders,” he said. “I was taken prisoner.”
“I’m sorry.” She had the wary regard of someone who thought she might be hearing a story, but wasn’t sure. In a courteous voice she said, “Sir, do you mind if we speak Eubic? I’m afraid my Iotic is terrible.”
“That’s fine,” he said in Eubic. Without his sight, he was even more attuned to emotions. Although it was true she had trouble with Iotic, she also wanted to switch languages out of simple courtesy, so Jeejon could better understand them. He had no objection: he had already made his point.
More taps came from her console. “I can give you an appointment with Major Montgomery at third shift, sixteen hundred hours.” She stopped, momentarily disoriented. She usually thought in terms of days, but that made no sense on an asteroid tumbling through space. A memory came to her, one vivid enough for him to catch. In her briefing about Spikedown, she learned that this asteroid had been part of a barren planet. An ESComm training exercise had torn the planet out of its orbit and sent its shattered remains hurtling into space. The lengths ESComm went to in their drills didn’t surprise Kelric, but it had stunned the Allieds.
She mentally shook herself. “In Spikedown time, that’s one hundred twenty-five hours from now. Shall I put your names in for that slot?”
“No!” Jeejon protested. “Kelric might be dead by then.”
“Dead?” The lieutenant shifted her focus to him. “Does she mean you, Mr. Valdoria?”
“I’ve a medical condition that can’t be treated here,” he said. “If I don’t get help, I’ll die within the next few days.”
A long silence came from the lieutenant. She wasn’t sure what to believe. She could see his exhaustion. He looked drained. But dying? Was it a play for sympathy? Had he created the Majda story in the mistaken belief it would get him off Spikedown without a ticket? Desperation drove people to far worse than telling stories. But what if he told the truth?
“We have a doctor who can look at you,” she said. “He’s an excellent medic. He’ll be coming into port on the Explorer in forty-three hours.”
“That’s too long,” Jeejon said. “Kelric might not have that much time.”
The lieutenant spoke gently. “Ma’ am, we have thousands of cases with just as compelling circumstances. Two Trader star systems in this region recently become Allied territory. Both have populated planets. Also four space stations, including one with over a thousand people. Not to mention outposts like this. For all that, we’ve only limited personnel and equipment to deal with protection, assimilation, and refugees. Myself and Major Montgomery are the entire staff for this and two other outposts combined. Do you have any idea what that means?”
In a subdued voice Jeejon said, “No, ma’am.”
“I wish I could help everyone.” Frustration made her voice more curt than she intended. “It’s just not possible.” Her attention shifted to Kelric. “I can promise you will see the doctor. Tell me what you need and I’ll have him notified when the Explorer docks.”
Kelric pulled back his sleeve, revealing his gauntlets. “I’m a Jagernaut. My biomech web is failing.”
“A Jagernaut?” Irritation snapped in her voice. “Mr. Valdoria, half the gangs out in the spikelands wear gauntlets like that. I’m sure they would all like to be Jagemauts.”
“What would you consider proof?” he asked.
“Identification.”
“ID?” He heard the fatigue in his voice. “I’ve been a Trader slave, Lieutenant.”
She exhaled, her irritation fading. “If you were a provider, that does mean you’re a psion,” she admitted.
“That’s right!” Jeejon said. “A strong one.”
Kelric smiled, startled that she would jump to his defense even when she thought he was crazy.
“Do you have psiphon sockets?” the lieutenant asked.
“My neck, wrist, and ankle sockets are covered. I can show you the one in my lower back.” It meant he would have to take off his jumpsuit.
Embarrassment flooded her mind. Awkwardly she said, “That won’t be necessary.” She came to a decision. “I’ll talk to the Explorer’s captain. I can’t make any promises. We’ve already scheduled too many passengers. But maybe they can manage one extra. If we do, they’ll take you to Lockman Army Base after the doctor finishes his rounds of the outposts. From L
ockman you can arrange passage to a more central location. In the meantime, I’ll need your retinal scan and samples of your DNA, to see if we can verify your ID.”
Kelric swallowed. He didn’t know if he would survive long enough to reach the army base. “Is there any way to get me a berth on a ship leaving sooner?”
Softly Jeejon said, “Ma’am, he might not live forty-three hours.”
“We only have civilian ships in port right now.” In a flat voice the lieutenant added, “To get you an unpaid berth, I would have to commandeer the ship.”
“Can you do that?” Jeejon asked.
She made an incredulous sound. “With what troops to back it up? We’re barely hanging on as it is. I’ve trouble keeping enough police here to maintain order in the port. We gave up on the spikelands. If things get much worse, the major and I will be pulled out as well. Besides, if I tried to commandeer ships for everyone who claimed he was important, I’d have daily riots on my hands. Hell, we already have daily riots.” She blew out a gust of air. “If you can arrange a paid ticket on a ship that leaves sooner, we’ll help you board. That’s all I can promise.”
Kelric felt what her anger hid. She ached with frustration over her inability to help people. She was exhausted from trying to carry an impossible workload and troubled by what she had learned here about the Traders. He and Jeejon had pushed her as far as she could go.
In the end, they arranged for him to see the doctor and agreed to check with the lieutenant when the Explorer docked.
He just hoped he would be alive then.
Jeejon and Kelric strolled along one of the port’s quieter concourses. He kept his hand on her arm and let her choose the path. Since leaving the lieutenant’s office, they had walked aimlessly, with no destination.
“I don’t think she believed us,” Jeejon said.
“She’s not sure, though,” he said. “At least she’s willing to help.”
“You’re good at talking to people like that.” She drew him to the side, into an area with a more isolated feel. The voices on the concourse faded. “Come on.”