Dehya crossed her arms. “Eldrin isn’t responsible for the prejudices of Lyshriol and your husband.”
Roca stiffened. “We weren’t talking about my husband.”
“He’s the one who disowned Althor.”
“He disowned Althor for taking Soz to DMA.” Roca knew it was more complicated, but she felt how much her husband mourned that he had never reconciled with Althor. He would live the rest of his life grieving that his last words to his son were spoken in anger.
Dehya scowled. “Soz would have gone crazy if he had made her stay home and get married.”
Roca crossed her arms, mirroring her sister. “I do not wish to discuss your problems with my husband.”
“I don’t have problems with your husband. I like him. My problems are with his attitudes.”
“Yes, well, he says the same about you.”
“Eldrin is changing.” Dehya lowered her arms, making an obvious effort to relax. “You’ve seen him in Assembly. He comes to almost every session.”
There was that. It impressed Roca. She had never expected her son to take an interest in politics. His first appearance in the Assembly had shocked everyone. She knew he believed it was because they considered him inferior. And it was true, some of the more foolish delegates felt that way. But his age caused the greatest consternation. Among the thousands of representatives, Eldrin was by far the youngest.
Most members of Skolia’s governing body won their hard-fought seats after decades of political maneuvering. The few hereditary seats held by the noble Houses went to senior members of those families. Everyone in the Ruby Dynasty had a seat, but most of Roca’s children were too young and none had shown an interest. Almost none. The day seventeen-year-old Eldrin had walked into the amphitheater and settled regally into his chair, Roca’s jaw had dropped along with everyone else’s. It pleased her no end that he chose to participate.
“I’m proud of him.” Roca made herself lower her arms as well. She could guess why Dehya resisted hearing about Eldrin’s problems. “Everyone, at some time or another, needs help. It doesn’t mean the people who love them have failed them.”
Dehya watched her for a long moment. Then she stared at the hills beyond the glade where they stood. “I will miss this place while I’m gone.”
Roca understood her well enough to recognize the topic was closed. But she knew Dehya. The pharaoh was thinking about what she had said.
“When do you leave for Parthonia?” Roca asked.
“In a few hours.” Dehya glanced at the house. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
“I, too. But I need to get home.” Although she trusted her older children to look after the younger ones, she didn’t like leaving them. “I’ll attend this Assembly session through the web.”
“I worry about security.” Dehya began walking with her again. “When I’m extended through the meshes, I absorb so much data, it’s hard to define individual pieces. But the web seems jagged lately. Less stable.”
“Do you think it would be safer if I went to Parthonia?”
Dehya hesitated. “I would say yes, but Kurj wants the Rhon dispersed as widely as possible. He isn’t happy with you going to Lyshriol, either, with so many of your children there, but I don’t think he will forbid it. He knows they need you, even if he has a hard time saying that.”
It exhausted Roca dealing with Kurj’s conflicted emotions toward his half-siblings. He obviously loved them but he refused to admit it. “What do you think? Is our family in danger?”
Dehya gathered up her hip-length hair and began twisting it into a braid. “Yes. Everyone is. Certainly we should minimize our vulnerability. That doesn’t mean we should hide and tremble. It does no good to have the power of Rhon psions if we’re too afraid to use it.”
Roca thought of her husband. He should have been protected on Lyshriol. “No place is safe.”
Shadows shifted on Dehya’s face. “I will be glad to be with Eldrin in Selei City.”
“I thought he was on Diesha.”
“He is.” Dehya paused in braiding her hair. “I have been thinking it would be good if he and I could spend more time together.” She spoke awkwardly. “The medical staff at the Sunrise Palace above Selei City has an excellent counselor he can talk to. If he wishes.”
A tightness within Roca loosened, and she felt a sense of lightening. Perhaps Dehya and Eldrin would work out their difficulties. “Do you think Kurj will allow Eldrin to travel there?”
“I think so. Eldrin is as safe with me on Parthonia as with Kurj on Diesha. Kurj already sent Soz to your cruiser.”
“My what?”
“Roca’s Pride.”
Roca winced. “I can’t believe Kurj named that battle cruiser after me.”
A smile quirked the pharaoh’s lips. “Be flattered. He meant it that way.”
“Yes, well, you might feel differently if he had called one of those big cans Pharaoh’s Pride.”
Dehya laughed. “He did. Pharaoh’s Shield, actually.”
“Oh.” Roca squinted at her. “I fear ISC will start naming warships after our children.”
“Perhaps we could distract them with other suggestions.” Dehya smirked. “How about Kurj’s Calamity? Or Majda Madness?”
“Majda nobles are the epitome of perfection,” Roca said dryly. She thought of her son Vyrl, who had run off with his child sweetheart instead of marrying Devon Majda. Then Devon had abdicated to her sister Corey. “Did you know Corey Majda commands the Lyshriol defense system?”
“I doubt that’s coincidence.” Dehya finished braiding her hair. “The Assembly still wants the Majda Matriarch to marry one of your sons. They’re just being more subtle this time.”
Roca smiled. “I better get home fast, before Corey rides off with Denric or Shannon.” Ideals of beauty among the nobility came in two varieties: the powerful dark aristocrat, like Dehya or Devon; and the slender blond youth, like her younger sons. If either Shannon or Denric ever spent time in the Imperial court on Parthonia, they would find themselves pursued and feted by noblewomen from every House.
“It is hard to believe so many of your children are adults,” Dehya said.
“They certainly think they are.” Roca grimaced. “There ought to be a law that prohibits unsuspecting parents from having so many teenagers at once.”
Dehya’s face gentled. “I’ve never seen you so happy as you are with them.”
It was true, as much as Roca liked to grumble. “Yes, well, perhaps I should happily get home before they do something dire to the house.” Her smile faded. “We still haven’t figured out how Vitarex broke through the Lyshriol defenses. ISC has fortified and upgraded them until they’re convinced nothing could breach them.”
Dehya just looked at her. Roca needed no telepathy to know her thought; ISC had believed those defenses were impregnable before. “I’m leaving this evening,” Roca added.
“Do you have any time before you go?”
“About three hours.”
Dehya spoke more formally. “I would ask for your help then.”
Her tone puzzled Roca. “Yes?”
“I need to work in the web. But I must leave for Parthonia.”
Roca couldn’t tell what she was about, and Dehya had shielded her thoughts more than usual. Curious, Roca said, “What can I do?”
“Complete some work for me.” Dehya sighed and rubbed the small of her back, arching a bit as she worked the muscles. “I’ve been developing some new meshes. I need to link them from Kyle space into our spacetime.”
Roca stared at her. “Good gods, Dehya, that’s Dyad work.”
“Not exactly.” She regarded Roca steadily. “It’s true, you will need to operate in Kyle space at a level you haven’t done before. And you must use the Dyad Chair; no other node can join structures in two universes.”
“Kurj can’t do it?”
“Kurj is planning a war.” More quietly she said, “Should anything happen to me, you would take my position in the Dyad. Taqui
is too young.”
Roca understood then. Just as Kurj had sent Soz to the battle cruiser to learn ISC, so Roca needed to learn the Dyad. It shook her. Whatever her difficulties with Dehya, Roca didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of her death. But regardless of how she felt, she had to know this work.
“Yes,” Roca said. “I will help.”
Kurj accompanied Eldrin to the starport and saw him off on that star yacht bound to Parthonia. Then Kurj headed back to his office in HQ City. Halfway there, he decided to go home instead. He felt unaccountably tired. It made no sense: he had so much augmentation to his body, he could turn off portions of his systems to “rest,” which recharged him enough that he required only about two hours of sleep per twenty-hour cycle. Apparently he needed more today, though. His head felt odd. So did his stomach.
Node A, he thought.
Attending, his spinal node answered.
Why do I feel strange?
You have the flu.
What is the flu?
A minor illness common prior to the advent of nanomed technology.
Kurj scowled. With his exercise regime, strength, and health meds, he rarely experienced illness. Then why do I have it?
No medical system is 100 percent perfect.
Delete it.
It is not possible to delete the flu.
How do I remove it?
Sleep. Plenty of liquids. Ibuprofen can help.
Ibru-what?
Medicine. I can prescribe it.
I don’t have time to be sick. Reprogram my mods to eliminate flu.
His node responded with its limitless patience. If that were possible, I would have done so. However, you can check yourself into the Pharaoh’s Hospital in HQC and ask them to design new nanomeds for you.
For flaming sakes. That would take more time than being sick.
If you allow yourself to be sick and recover, your body will create its own specialized form of nanomed to defeat this flu.
I thought you couldn′t reprogram my nanomeds.
I can’t. Your body, however, can make antibodies.
The whole business sorely tried Kurj’s patience. However, he felt less robust every moment. Very well. I will go home, sleep, and consume liquids. Let me know when I have completed enough of these actions.
I will do so.
Kurj had his flyer take him to the Ruby Palace, where he could be sick in peace.
Eldrin threw up in the medical bay of the yacht. Then he fell back on his side, on the bed, exhausted, and lay still while medbots cleaned him up. The ship’s dark-haired doctor hovered over him. He didn’t recognize the name on her white jumpsuit and he doubted he could pronounce it. He felt too sick to ask.
After the bots had scrubbed him clean, Eldrin rolled onto his back. The pastel holoart on the Luminex walls was supposed to soothe him, but it only made his nausea worse. He was dimly aware of his bodyguards hulking around the bay, and of the doctor with the unpronounceable name working nearby. He just stared at the ceiling. When he had gathered enough strength, he rolled his head toward the doctor. She was studying one of the monitors by his bed.
“Do you know what’s wrong with me?” Eldrin asked.
She rubbed her chin. “Initially it looked like the flu, of all things. Then it got worse.” She indicated holos rotating above one screen with views of various chemicals. “A foreign med species in your body made you sick. You have defense nanomeds that are disposing of the invader. It’s odd.”
“Odd how?” He hadn’t been aware of any anomalies.
“I’ve never seen anything like the defense meds. But they’re documented in your files.” She glanced at him with a puzzled look. “Why ever would you carry meds to remove blue food coloring?”
“Oh, those.” Eldrin smiled wanly. “It’s for an impurity in the water and air on the world where I grew up.”
“Well, you’re lucky for that.”
He appreciated her manner, she neither condescended to him nor had the ingratiating manner some people assumed because of his titles. She treated him like any other patient.
“Are the blue-dye meds causing my illness?” he asked.
“Not at all.” She indicated the holo of a complicated chemical structure turning above her console. “An unidentified species caused your illness. The dye species neutralized it.” She studied glyphs scrolling across the screen below the holo. “Fortunately you took in few enough of the invader meds that your dye meds could destroy them all.”
“How did I get the invader species?” His dizziness surged and receded like a wave rippling through the Dalvador Plains.
“I’m not sure. I’ll need a list of everything you ate and drank in the past few days.”
“All right.” What Eldrin really wanted to do was sleep.
“Huh.” She was scrutinizing a new display of molecules with atoms highlighted in different colors. “That’s strange, too. This compound doesn’t match anything in your records.”
Eldrin’s nausea had returned. “What is it?”
“Some sort of neurotransmitter …” She rubbed her chin. “You’ve a chemical in your brain I don’t recognize. It’s forming complexes with your neurons.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “Is it dangerous?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never treated a Rhon psion before.” She turned to him. “According to your records, you’re undergoing treatment to control seizures.”
Eldrin tensed. How could she know that he had convulsions when he didn’t take the phorine? He had told no one. He tried to sound natural. “What seizures?”
She indicated another display of hologlyphs. “Those.”
Eldrin could read two-dimensional text, but three dimensions was too much, especially now. “What does it say?”
“That you requested this treatment when you were sixteen.”
“Oh.” She meant his battle-rages. “Those attacks only happened a few times.”
She studied the molecules rotating over another screen. “Probably these anomalous neurotransmitters relate to that treatment. I’ll send an inquiry with the report on your illness.”
Eldrin wondered if the transmitters came from the phorine. He knew he should tell her about it, but he feared she would confiscate the syringe. Someone would figure it out, though, if she sent a report. The Epsilon files on his home nodes could keep his personal EI in check, but he doubted they could block her medical system. “You don’t need to put that in my file,” he said. “My doctors already know.”
“I have to put in everything.” She frowned at him. “Including one other thing.”
“What?”
“You drink too much.”
How could they tell so much? He had no privacy. “I quit.”
She indicated her holos. “These say otherwise.”
“It’s only been a day.”
She seemed uncertain whether or not to believe him. “I can give you something to cut down the craving.”
Eldrin almost said no. He could take care of himself. But that was hard to remember when he needed a drink. He was having more trouble cutting back than he expected. When he was sober, he couldn’t forget what had happened to Althor. He remembered when he had been seven and Althor five, how close they had been, playing and running and laughing. Althor had looked up to him and Eldrin had sworn he would always protect his brother. Those memories were full of sunlight.
Then one day he had let himself see the truth; his “little” brother had grown stronger and smarter than him. The girl Eldrin dreamed about every night had wanted Althor, who had no interest in any girl. It enraged Eldrin, and he often ended up fighting his brother. He knew his behavior bewildered Althor. Eldrin hadn’t understood how Althor could be everything their people defined as powerful and masculine, more so than Eldrin himself, and yet not be a man according to their customs.
Eldrin had been living on the Orbiter when he heard about the Battle of Tyroll back home. Sixteen-year-old Althor had also ridden into b
attle with their father—except Althor had taken a laser carbine and slaughtered three hundred men in five minutes. It ended warfare on Lyshriol. How could swords and bows compete with interstellar weapons? Eldrin knew his brother had struggled with remorse, but Althor dealt with it. Eldrin had refused to use offworld weapons; it had seemed morally wrong against men with only swords and bows. Althor had no qualms—and he had stopped the war. No one else would die. Which was right?
Eldrin doubted he would ever have answers. But he had gradually come to terms with the differences between Althor and himself. He would regret all his life that he had never put right the strain between them, for now he would never have the chance.
“Your Majesty?” the doctor asked.
Eldrin spoke with difficulty. “Yes. If you could—help with the craving, I would appreciate it.”
“Certainly.” She clicked an air syringe out of the console and dialed in a prescription. As she injected him, she said, “For now, sleep as much as possible and drink water to flush out the detritus of the dismantled meds.”
He nodded, glad to oblige, because he felt like hell.
“Jason, answer,” Kurj whispered. He lay sprawled on his bed, unable to move. The whir of bots cleaning him up had stopped. Nothing remained for them to clean. He had nothing left to throw up.
“Jason.” His voice rasped. “Contact the hospital.”
The EI remained silent. No alarms activated.
Emergency systems networked the Ruby Palace, the best ISC could design, all with one purpose: to protect the Imperator. The moment he had collapsed on his bed, alarms should have gone off. By now, medtechs should be swarming over the palace.
Nothing happened.
Kurj managed to pull himself another few inches across the bed. If he could reach the edge …
When he became aware again, the room had gone dark. Dimly he thought, Node A.
Attending.
Light … where?
It is night.
He must have passed out. When … flu end?
I no longer believe you have the flu. Your condition is lifethreatening. You must have medical help.
Hospital.