Turning her attention to the river, Soz saw her two shadows rippling in the water, one in front of her and the other behind. All around her, the day chattered with life. Prism was an attractive world, open and free, lonely perhaps, but relatively benign all things considered. She and Jaibriol had been fortunate.
She surveyed the opposite bank, where water gurgled over the half-submerged cage of giant roots. The roots had a red tinge and were mottled with purple moss. Vines grew over them, ropy cables with leaves that resembled red sponges.
Soz waded to the roots. The river ran deeper here, cutting a trench as the gnarled roots funneled its flow. She climbed up on a root that buckled out of the water, a pulpy arch as thick as her waist. Sitting on her perch, she dangled her legs above the river and scraped her finger through a patch of moss, fetching a sample for the analyzer.
Water splashed at her feet. She looked to see ripples in the river, as if a small creature had broken the surface and disappeared.
“Soz?” Jaibriol called. “Are you all right?”
She glanced up at him. “Fine,” she called.
He stayed at the water’s edge, shifting the carbine from hand to hand. Soz gave her moss sample to the palmtop, then scraped her fingernail along the root for another sample.
Water splashed again.
Her reflexes kicked in and she looked faster this time. It still wasn’t enough; whatever had made the splash had already disappeared.
She directed a thought to her spinal node. Analysis.
The disturbances suggest a living organism. Or something falling in the water.
Soz looked around. A few roots arched above her head, with smooth surfaces patched by moss. Could moss be falling?
Possibly. However, it would probably make a different sound.
She peered at the water. Maybe something is hiding down there.
After a pause, it thought, Estimated probability that an organism hides in roots: 72 percent; under rocks: 48 percent; that it jumped out of water: 24 percent; that something dropped into water: 17 percent; that water exhibited random turbulence: 9 percent; that root snapped out of water: 3 percent; that rock jumped out of water: 0.05 percent. Its response came in a normal-speed mode, as words, rather than in the accelerated data dump of a fast-speed battle mode.
She smiled. Rocks jumping out of water?
The probability is small, it admitted.
You think something is hiding down there?
This is a reasonable guess. A blue light glowed on her palmtop, indicating it was receiving IR from her node, sent via fiberoptic threads in her body to her wrist socket, which then conveyed the signal to the palmtop. The light turned purple as the palmtop sent data back to her internal biomech web. Then her node said, I suggest analyzing these roots further. The sample you gave the palmtop suggests a chemistry different from other life in this area.
Different how?
Part plant, part crystalline.
That intrigued Soz. Does it photosyn—
This splash was much bigger.
The root under her whiplashed, flinging Soz into the river. As she hit the water, a root snapped around her ribs, pinning her right arm, and another circled her waist. Then the roots whipped her out of the water.
Her reflexes responded even before her brain registered what had happened. With her pinned arm she strained against the coil around her torso, pushing outward to keep it from crushing her ribs. She worked her other hand into the coil around her waist, going for her knife.
The root slapped her into the water, down to the riverbed. It scraped her face-first along the rocks and she gulped in water. Nanomeds in her body tried to ferry the water out of her lungs, but it came in too fast for the meds to keep her from drowning.
She managed to get her arm the rest of the way inside the coil around her waist and push outward with both arms. Her hydraulics were working at maximum, and the heat produced by her microfusion reactor dissipated into the water.
With a sudden frenzy, the coils yanked her out of the river and she gasped, choking up water she had swallowed. Trees and sky spun past and a burning stench assailed her senses. She glimpsed Jaibriol sighting across the river with the carbine.
Soz kept working her arm down her side until her fingers brushed the hilt of her knife. She manipulated it free and stabbed the blade up into the root. The response was immediate: the root whipped her back toward the bank. She kept stabbing, struggling to breathe. Black spots danced in her vision. Her biomech could operate for a few moments without her conscious mind to direct it, but she doubted it would be long enough to save her life.
She glimpsed Jaibriol again, sighting on the roots. Then the roots jammed her into the center of their mass and held her there, blocking his shot. Blackened scars showed in the central mass and the stench of scorched pulp saturated the air. Her arm felt numb, but her node kept her hydraulics working and she kept stabbing the coil. The spots of darkness in her vision grew.
With a cracking snap, the root fell away from her waist. Using her freed arm, she hacked at the coil around her ribs with more force, again and again, until it too loosened. As it lost its grip, she tumbled into the water. Other roots thrashed at her, injured now, blind as she wriggled through their seething mess.
A loop of vine caught her ankle. More vines wrapped around her legs and arms, and their spongy red leaves covered her face. They dragged her out of the water, back into the center of the roots. The burning stench was even worse now, and Soz choked on the smell. Jaibriol must have hit the roots again when she was in the water.
As a backup system the vines were less effective than the roots. She sawed at them, snapping one cord, then another, then another. More curled around her body, but they were weakening, moving with erratic jerks. She kept at it, cutting, cutting, cutting, until the weight of her body became more than the vines could hold and she slid into the water. A few loops tangled around her legs, but a good hard kick sent her arrowing out of their grasp.
She reached the center of the river and stood up. Jaibriol was running through the water, sending sprays of liquid into the air. His emotions beat against her, a mix of fear, relief, and fury. She waded toward him and they collided when they met. Sliding his arm around her waist, he pulled her against his side. Together, they stumbled out of the river. Soz collapsed onto the bank and lay on her back, half in and half out of the water, gasping for breath.
He knelt beside her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She heaved in a breath. “That thing was alive.”
In a voice tight with anger he said, “Obviously.”
“I mean sentient.” She sat up, grimacing with the effort. “It knew you were causing it harm, so it held me in front of itself to stop you.”
His fury washed over her. “You survived.” Then he got up and walked away.
“Jaibriol?” Soz climbed to her feet, took a wobbly step, and fell down, catching herself on her hands and knees.
You have three broken ribs, her node informed her.
So fix them, she thought, knowing it couldn’t.
Nanomed series G is carrying nutrients to the damaged area, series H is aiding the breakdown of cellular detritus into usable molecules, series B—
Never mind, Soz thought. What about my ribs?
You need to set the bones.
I don’t know how.
I will direct you. Put your hands over your rib cage.
Still kneeling, she placed her hands on her ribs and tried to relax. Her hydraulics took over, directed by her node, and moved her hands as she shoved the ribs. Her node had produced a molecule similar to morphine to dull the pain, but she still had to bite her lip to keep from screaming.
Alignment complete, her node thought. I recommend limiting your activity until your repair is sufficient to keep the bones from slipping again. You also have venom in your bloodstream, injected by thorns on the vines. I am synthesizing an antidote, but you must rest. The more you move, the more it circulates the
poison.
I can go back to the cave, Soz thought.
You need to find a closer place. It would be to your advantage to have subject Qox’s aid in this endeavor.
His name is Jaibriol.
My apologies. My combat routines aren’t designed to attach affectionate names to Highton Aristos.
Soz gave an unsteady laugh and rolled onto her back, staring at the patch of sky ringed by treetops. Why is he mad at me?
I’m afraid my routines aren’t designed to analyze emotional conflicts of humans involved in the intimacy associated with sexual reproduction, either.
Can’t you do better than that?
I don’t think so. However, I have a request.
Soz frowned. Usually “a request” meant it had calculated she would resist some upgrade it wanted. What?
I would like a name.
Say again?
You designate the Highton Heir by a personal name, yet call a node within your own body “node.”
You’re joking, right?
Have you considered the implications of refusing to name me? It paused. If you cannot handle the emotional issues involved with your capacity as a weapon of war, how do you expect to deal with your current situation?
Soz swore under her breath. I thought you didn’t do psychology.
A large probability exists that my attempts will be flawed, it admitted.
Soz didn’t see how naming the node would solve anything, but what the hell. I’ll think about it.
Thank you. For now, I recommend you find a secure location in which to commence recuperation.
She stared at the sky. Not sure I can move, Node-without-a-name.
Ask Jaibriol for help.
He’s gone.
Call him with your mind.
He closed his doors.
If you mean he has deliberately spurred his brain to produce kylatine that blocks the neural receptors assigned to processing signals from your brain, you are correct.
Whatever.
However, the node continued. He has many more psiamine receptors than those his brain dedicates to his interaction with you. Magnify your KEB output and stimulate his KAB so it sends pulses to neural structures with those receptors.
I won’t break his doors. It’s trespassing.
It is not in your best interest to lie here undefended so near an organism that just attempted to eat you.
Eat me?
The “roots” appear to be a carnivorous plant that feeds on large animals.
I’d rather not be its lunch.
Then call Jaibriol. Worrying about telepathic etiquette at this time is inappropriate.
It’s more than etiquette. It’s a moral issue. With a groan, Soz made herself sit up. I’ll walk back.
It would be better—
Node, Soz thought. No more.
She climbed to her feet. Jaibriol had left the carbine by her clothes, which meant he was alone and unprotected. She dressed, favoring her ribs, then packed up their supplies and headed into the forest.
A flash of blue in the trees caught her attention. Pushing her way past the bushes, she found a clearing. Several meters away, Jaibriol was sitting on a boulder, watching her.
“I thought you went to the cave,” she said.
“Do you want to walk back together?”
“My node says I should stay put. I took some venom.”
He sat up straighter. “Will you be all right?”
“Fine. I just need to rest for a while.”
He came over, pulling off his pack. “Our rations should last at least a day.”
She doubted she needed that much time, given that this day would last 243 hours. “That’s more than enough.”
He set down his pack and sat on the ground, then stretched out on his back with his hands behind his head.
“You’re angry,” Soz said.
He continued to watch the sky. “I have made a decision.”
“A decision?”
“I am leaving.”
Leaving? “For where?”
“It is done.”
“What’s done?”
“Us.”
“Us?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Soz nudged his mind, but if he knew she was knocking, he gave no hint of it. “Why is it ended?”
“I will go south,” Jaibriol said. “You can stay here.”
“This is crazy.” She leaned over him so he had to look at her. “We have to accept the risks of living here. We can’t run away every time something bad happens.”
He sat up, anger suffusing his emotions, which he let free with an ease that made her suspect he knew exactly what she was doing when she knocked at his mind. “Why didn’t you just let me die in your brother’s torture chamber? Why bring me here to make the torture last a lifetime?”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. But I can’t read your mind.” She could, actually, but that was beside the point. “If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, how can I fix it?”
“This can’t be fixed.”
“Jaibriol!”
He leaned back on his hands. “Love is a façade. A literary metaphor created by writers. Never accept it, because it will be taken away. So I saw this afternoon. So you continue to tell me. We will die here.” He shrugged. “I prefer to die alone.”
She almost said, How can you think that? then stopped. She considered that’s absurd but realized it was no more likely to evoke a positive response. Neither It isn’t that way nor You’ve a distorted view of human relations seemed right either.
Finally she said, “I would be lonely if you left.”
“Loneliness is the human condition.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Was she making this worse? She had never been good at “relationship” talks. She tended to avoid them, a trait that had contributed to her first husband’s decision to leave her sixteen years ago. Her taciturn inclinations hadn’t been the trouble so much as her inability to discuss the real problem, which was his fear that her military career would widow him. Given Jaibriol’s linguistic bent, she suspected this discussing business was going to be important again, and she feared she would muck it up as much this time as before.
He was sitting cross-legged now, staring at his hands, which he had moved into his lap. As she watched him, his youth struck her. Twenty-three. Heaped on that was his lack of experience with human relationships. She wondered how they would ever make this work.
At least try, her node thought.
Stop eavesdropping.
I have no choice. I’m inside of you.
Thank you for stating the obvious.
Directing sarcasm at me won’t solve your current problem.
Soz exhaled. Softly she said, “What happened at the river—that frightened both of us.”
Jaibriol continued to study his hands.
“We both knew I could die,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she tried another tack. “I’ve lived with the knowledge of my mortality for three decades, ever since I took my ISC commission. I’ve grown used to the risks. But you haven’t.”
Jaibriol looked up at her. “I’ve loved two people in my life. My nurse, Camyllia, who died. And my father.” He shrugged. “Now that I know him for what he is, he might as well be dead too.”
She knew it hurt him far more than he wanted to show. “Now you think I’ll die too? So you want to leave before it happens?”
“Yes.”
Gently she said, “I can’t promise there’s no danger. But we can face it together. Besides,” she pointed out, “you can’t go south. We haven’t decided what to call this hemisphere yet.”
A smile quirked his mouth. “Soshoni, you are so literal.” With a sigh of capitulation, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “Maybe I’d better stay here. If I don’t, you will start inflicting names on this place like ‘River’ for the river and ‘Plants’ for the plants.”
br /> Relieved, she leaned against him, giving in to her fatigue. “You’re right. We can’t let that happen.”
So they stayed together, in the north.
II
Year Two
358 ASC on the Imperial Calendar
381 EG on the Eubian Calendar
A.D. 2261 on the Gregorian Calendar
Ie 5264 on the Ruby Calendar
About 6277 on the Iotic Calendar
5
Of course we measure our year according to the orbital period of the planet Raylicon. That world is, after all, the ancestral home to all our peoples. But what of our surprise in learning our year equals that of Earth? A moment’s reflection reveals we should have been less startled. The race that moved our ancestors to Raylicon wanted us to survive; otherwise why choose a planet that supported human life? That they found or altered its orbit to ensure its year matched the one programmed into our DNA is a further indication of their intent.
Our honored Imperial Calendar dates from the magnificent founding of the Skolian Imperialate, Year One being denoted 1 ASC, or 1 Ascendant, to honor Skolia’s ascendance. Earth still uses her quaint Gregorian Calendar, where A.D. 1904 corresponds to our Year One. Rather predictably, the uninspired Eubian Calendar dates from the birth of Eube, so 1 EG on the Eubian Calendar is 33 DSC on the Imperial Calendar, or thirty-three years prior to the founding of Skolia.
For those who prefer antediluvian measures of time, the Ruby Calendar began with the rise of the Ruby Empire. Our Year One corresponds to Ie 5477 on the Ruby Calendar, where Ie is believed to stand either for “Imperial Era” or “Inner Era.” The Iotic Calendar derives from the advent of human life on Raylicon, a date we know with only limited accuracy.
—From The Lost Empire, by Tajjil Bloodstone
The War Room existed in sharp, gleaming functionality on the space habitat known as the Orbiter. The War Room amphitheater was filled with controls, web consoles, and giant robot arms that carried telops. High above the amphitheater, a power chair hung suspended under a holodome that showed views of space, so that anyone looking up saw the chair silhouetted against a glistening panorama of holographic stars. A hood packed with apparatus formed a cavern for the head of whoever sat in the chair, and its arms were rectangular blocks, fifty centimeters wide, glinting with control lights. Thousands of channels fed the chair’s web—and the brain of the man who sat in it.