Stonehedge smiled. “It’s a ground-based monorail system. Someone, I forget who, said it was a hoot that we gave it such a grandiose moniker as MagRail. So we call it the mono-hoot.” Althor’s mouth curved up, as if he might laugh. He didn’t, though. I wondered at his wariness. The longer we spent on Ep- silani, the more I liked her people. My intuition said they were exactly what they seemed: hard-working colonists who enjoyed showing off the fruits of their labor.
Still, how would I know what undercurrents swirled around us? I was treading water, struggling to float in a sea of new impressions.
* * *
Kabatu’s office was sunny and cramped, its walls covered by consoles, cabinets, and equipment. He sat Althor down in a reclining chair and removed the bandage on his shoulder. One look at the wound Was enough to crease his face with concern. Reaching out, he grabbed a mechanical arm off the wall. It hummed in response, and a line of yellow lights appeared, stretching from the first of its three elbows to the seven jointed “fingers” at its end. Kabatu touched the third finger and it lit up. Directing the light at Althor’s shoulder, he gently probed the wound.
Althor jerked away. “What are you doing?”
“Stay still,” Kabatu said. “I’m imaging the injury.”
“You don’t have to touch me to do that.”
“This probe gives better detail.” Kabatu waved his hand at the wall. Turning, I saw holos rotating in front of a screen, views of Althor’s torso: the muscular system, in bands of red; his skeleton, shown in ivory; his cardiovascular system, with the arteries carrying oxygenated blood highlighted in red and the veins and pulmonary arteries carrying deoxygenated blood in blue; his nervous system, fibers branching out from his brain and spinal cord; immune system; and internal organs—heart, lungs, parts of the digestive and endocrine systems. One view showed a complex web, its conduits and “organs” highlighted in metallic colors.
“You’ve got biomech in there.” Kabatu whistied. “Holy saints, man, you’re riddled with it.”
“You have a problem with this?” Althor asked.
“I’ve just never seen anything like it.” Kabatu withdrew his probe and set the arm back onto the wall. “How did your shoulder get hurt like this?”
“Gun.”
“What kind of gun?”
“Gunpowder gun. Metal bullets.”
Kabatu’s mouth fell open. “Who shot you with that?”
“It’s not your business.”
“Sorry. I’m just surprised. How did you get the bullet out?”
“Cut it out.”
“Good Lord, why?” When Althor frowned, Kabatu held up his hands. “None of my business.” He dropped his arms. “Here’s the situation. I can fix the damage to your natural body. But your biomech is another story.”
“It’s self-repairing.”
Kabatu nodded. “Yes, I can see it’s trying to seal off the damage. But there’s too much disruption for it to fix, Commander Selei. You need new components, including some bioengineered units. There’s no way I can do that here. Even if I had the resources—which I don’t—I’ve never seen a real biomech system before, much less worked on one. You need an ISC medical facility and a trained team of biomech surgeons.”
Althor didn’t look surprised. “But you can repair the rest of me?”0
Kabatu nodded. “I’ll give you some muscle and nerve builders, with anesthetics for the pain. Avoid using the biomech functions, though.”
“I understand.”
Kabatu cleaned Althor’s wounds, using a solution dispensed by the robot arm. Next he sprayed the wounds with a mist that settled into the injured areas. At the time I assumed it was an anesthetic, but it actually contained several species of nano-meds to aid the repair work of those his body already carried. He bandaged Althor with a material that molded to his body, changing color and texture to match his skin. After the bandages settled into place, it was almost impossible to distinguish them from his real skin.
“Give it a couple of cycles,” Kabatu said. “It should heal by then.”
“Cycles?” Althor asked.
“Earth days,” Kabatu said. “Thirty or forty hours should do it.”
Only two days? At first I didn’t believe it. Then it occurred to me that compared to circumventing the speed of light, healing bullet wounds in two days was trivial. Yet I found it disorienting. The Jag was completely outside my previous experience, but I understood wounds and their healing. That one visit to the doctor made me more aware of the differences in Althor’s universe than everything about the Jag.
Kabatu took us back to the room where Stonehedge waited with the security officers. Althor’s wariness made a blue haze punctuated with glints of light. Again, I wondered at it. It seemed to me that the people here had more reason to be apprehensive of a Jagernaut than the other way around.
At least they spoke English. Once we reached Althor’s people, I would no longer understand even the language.
I reached for Althor’s mind, but it was like hitting a wall. I didn’t realize then that he had barriered it. At his command, his biomech web could release neurotransmitters that damped signals sent by his KEB. If his web released too much of the chemical, or for too long, he became groggy and eventually passed out. But for short periods, he could make it difficult even for another empath to pick him up.
After we left the hospital, Stonehedge took us to a cluster of terraced buildings. He stopped at an attractive house, airy and light, with many patios. “These are reserved for visiting scientists, or dignitaries.” He glanced at me. “We can arrange for separate quarters if you like.”
“This is fine,” I said.
Althor considered him. ‘Allied contracts, properly performed, are binding with my people and Traders. Do you have a person here who can authorize such a contract?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” Stonehedge said.
“Contracts,” Althor said. “Social contracts.”
“Ah. Yes. You asked to see the chaplain.” The director nodded. “She can perform marriages legally binding across all political boundaries. We can set it up tomorrow.” He paused, glancing at me. “If all parties agree to it and are of legal age.”
“We must take care of it now,” Althor said.
“You can’t,” Kabatu said. “You need blood tests and genetic screening.”
“You have the results from my exam,” Althor said.
“For you, yes. But not for Ms. Pulivok.”
“We can do tests later,” Althpr said. “Now we sign the contract.”
“Wait,” I said. This was all moving too fast.
Stonehedge spoke gendy. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”
I tried to read Althor’s face, his colors, his moods. I didn’t understand why he was pushing so hard, or what they meant by “political boundaries.” My attempts to reach him were no more successful than before, but they were oversensitizing my KAB, producing a hyperextended awareness of everyone around me.
I even glimpsed the scene through someone else’s perceptions, either Stonehedge or Kabatu. Until that moment I hadn’t realized how fragile I appeared next to Althor. The mere act of our standing together made it look as if he were trying to intimidate me.
“It’s all right,” I told Stonehedge. “I’m just not used to the way you do things.”
He considered me. Then he spoke into a band around his wrist. “Nancy?”
A musical voice came out of the band. “Here.”
“We’re at the house. Can you come over?”
“Right away,” the woman said.
“Great. Out.” Stonehedge smiled at me. “That was Chaplain Ming. She’ll be happy to answer your questions.”
“No.” Althor took hold of my arm. “We’ll speak to her together.”
I pried at his fingers. Althor? Your safety routines aren’t working. You’re holding too tight.
He blinked and let go of my arm. I’m sorry.
“I
think that’s up to Ms. Pulivok,” Stonehedge said.
Behind him, I caught sight of a slender woman crossing a bridge on the river. Black hair hung in a ponytail down her back, swinging as she walked. Large almond-shaped eyes graced her face. Long, lithe, and tall, she looked about thirty-five.
In fact, when I thought about it, everyone I had met in Althor’s universe looked between thirty and forty. It makes-sense to me now. In 1987 people lived longer than they had in, say, 1687; three hundred years down the road humans have learned even more about how to slow aging and extend life spans.
When the woman reached us, Stonehedge introduced her as Chaplain Ming. “We thought Ms. Pulivok might like to talk to you,” he said. “Prepare for the ceremony.”
Althor glanced at me and shook his head slightly. I hesitated, feeling his concern that we not be separated. But I also knew this might be my last chance to talk privately with someone who spoke a language I understood.
Ming smiled at me and spoke in a voice as rich as cornstalks heavy with ripe ears nodding in a breeze. “We can go inside, if you like.”
With a silent apology to Althor, I said, “Yes. I would like that.”
Althor stiffened. But he didn’t protest. I went with Ming into the house, entering a living room with delicate screens for walls. The chairs, sofa, and tables were all made from pale ceramics and burnished metal lace. No wood or plastic showed anywhere. As we sat on the couch, Ming said, “Ms. Pulivok—”
“Tina.”
“Tina.” Her voice was like music. “Why are you so afraid?”
“What makes you think I’m afraid?”
“You seem so uneasy. Dazed.”
That was an understatement. Even if Althor hadn’t asked me to hold back, though, I would have said nothing about being three hundred years out of place. I was afraid it would sound like I was raving. “I just wanted to ask some questions.”
“Certainly.”
“Why are you all so uncomfortable around Althor?”
She tensed. “His name is Althor?’
“Does that bother you?”
She hesitated. “I realize'the name Althor is popular now, since the last war. Selei has never been common, though. To hear of an Althor Selei—” She gave me a wry smile. “You have to admit, that combination would throw anyone into an induction loop.”
I blinked, confused by her idioms. After a moment, she said, “Tina? What’s wrong?” She hesitated. “Are you with him of your own free will?”
I frowned. “Yes. Why does everyone keep asking that?”
“Because you look frightened. And you’re so young.”
“I’m not that young. I’ll be eighteen in a few months.”
She stared at me. “You’re only seventeen?”
I was fed up with being treated like a child. I hadn’t yet realized that the lengthening of life spans had moved the definition of adulthood to an older age. After all, thousands of years ago humans generally married and bore children at an age that, in 1987, was considered childhood. Nor was it just a function of era; in Zinacantan, girls tended to marry younger than in Los Angeles. In Althor’s universe, those trends continued. Physical maturity was no longer enough to make an adult; life had grown too complex, both technologically and socially.
Nor was it just my age. Although in 1987, I was small for an American woman, I was average for many places in the world, including Zinacantan. But heights had been increasing, and that trend continued into Althor’s time. To the people in his universe, someone my size tended to look childlike regardless of age.
“Where I come from in Mexico,” I said, “I’m not considered a child.”
Surprise flickered around her. “You’re from Earth?” When I nodded, she said,- “We thought you were Raylican.”
“No. I’m Maya.”
“The Raylican resemblance is astonishing.” She smiled. “Who would have thought an extinct people on Earth would so resemble an almost extinct people halftvay across the galaxy?”
I stared at her. “The Maya are extinct?”
“Well—I thought so. Don’t you know?”
I leaned forward, suddenly cold. Ming kept talking, words of concern, but I couldn’t hear. A roar buffeted my ears. Extinct. My people were extinct. My last tie to Earth was gone. I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe—
“—hyperventilating!” Kabatu’s voice cut through the noise in my head. “Move back!”
“Get out.” That was Althor, furious. “All of you.”
As my head cleared, I looked up to see the room filled with people: Ming, Althor, Stonehedge, Kabatu, security officers. Althor sat next to me—and waves of concern rolled out from the others. Gentleness and compassion have never been traits associated with jagernauts, a perception encouraged by their military bearing and combat versatility. It’s ironic, given that they are empaths, but their appearance belies the facts. The unease of the people watching us turned into the bright sparks of surprise when Althor drew me into his arms, murmuring words of comfort.
“Max.” Ming spoke quiedy to Stonehedge. “I need to talk to you.”
The director nodded, and they disappeared into another room. Kabatu and the security officers stayed, the guards watching Althor, their hands resting on their guns.
Althor brushed a tendril of hair away from my eyes. “What happened?”
“Ming—she told me the Maya are extinct.”
He exhaled. “I’m sorry, Tina. I also thought this must be true. Why else haven’t my people seen yours and realized where we came from? But I didn’t want to say anything, not until we had a better idea.”
Stonehedge returned with Ming, their moods creating translucent clouds of apprehension. Ming stood in the doorway, but Stonehedge sat on the couch, bringing himself on the same level as Althor, far enough away so he didn’t intrude on Althor’s space, on the opposite side of Althor from where I sat. I felt the effect of his choices immediately: Althor perceived him as less of a threat.
Stonehedge spoke carefully. “Commander Selei, none of us wishes to interfere with your private life. But please understand how this looks. An Imperial Jagernaut arrives at a remote Allied science station with a damaged ship and injuries, bringing a frightened child he insists on marrying despite her reluctance.” ‘ He spread his hands. “We need more information before we can perform the ceremony.”
Althor watched him, his face expressionless, metallic and cool. Calculating. He was trying to decide how far to trust the director.
A beep came from the band around Ming’s wrist, and she glanced at Stonehedge.
“What is it?” Althor asked.
Stonehedge said, “I asked my people to find anything they could on any Skolian man with your name, appearance, or military identification.”
Althor tensed. “And?”
Ming touched a square on the wall and swirling lines appeared on a wall-to-floor holoscreen. A life-sized holo formed, showing two people. The woman was slender, with green eyes as vivid as the sun on a leaf in the forest. Her black hair, long and straight, was pulled into a twist on her head; from the highest point, it cascaded down her back to her hips. She had an emerald-and-ice beauty, her face curved in perfect lines, like a marble statue.
The man made my breath catch. His shoulder-length locks matched the color of Althor’s natural hair exactly. Although his skin wasn’t metallic, his features were Althor’s, more refined and less blocky, but otherwise the same. His hands had no thumbs, just four thick fingers about the same length, with a hinge down the back of each hand.
Ming read a line of Skolian hieroglyphs scrolling along the holoscreen’s edge. “The holo was taken two years ago. They’re standing on a dais with other dignitaries during a speech given by the Imperial Assembly Voice. The woman is Dyhianna Selei.” She looked at Stonehedge. “That’s her, Max. The real deal. The Assembly Key.”
Stonehedge glanced at Althor. “Who is the man?”
After an awkward silence, in which Al
thor just looked at the director, Ming read off the answer. “Eldrin Jarac Valdoria. He’s Selei’s nephew.” She touched a panel, bringing up a menu. Another touch, and she had a new stream of hieroglyphs. “He’s the oldest son on the Skyfall side of the lineage. Right now he’s first in line for one of the Triad Keys. In fact, according to this, he would have become the Web Key when his father died if the Traders hadn’t captured the Third Lock. And look at this—he’s the older brother of Althor Valdoria, the war hero.”
“Turn it off,” Althor said.
Ming touched a panel and the holo vanished. Everyone in the room watched Althor, their emotions moving in currents: wonder, incredulity, fascination. The moment stretched out like taffy being pulled, its silence broken only by a distant hum of machinery.
Then Althor said, “Dyhianna Selei and Eldrin Valdoria are my parents.”
The moment cracked open, no longer taffy, instead a dam releasing water, chilly and bracing. Stonehedge let out a whistle. “Why didn’t you want to tell us?”
“You’ve seen my ship,” Althor said. “That damage is no accident.”
“Our techs agree,” Stonehedge said.
“It had no problems before I took it to ISC headquarters,” Althor said.
Kabatu leaned forward. “Are you saying your own military sabotaged it?”
“I don’t know.” Althor paused. “I was scheduled to attend a diplomatic reception on Earth.”
Comprehension swept across Stonehedge’s face. “Which gives you good reason to suspect the saboteurs had connections with the Allied Worlds of Earth.”
“That possibility has occurred to me,” Althor said.
“I can assure you,” Stonehedge said, “that no one here is in any way hostile to you or any member of your family.”
Althor regarded him, his mood metallic again. “You must allow us to marry.”
Ming spoke quietly. “The closer the two of you become, the more of a target that makes Tina. Isn’t she safer now?”
“No,” Althor said.
“I’m sorry,” Stonehedge said. “But a girl her age needs her guardians’ permission to marry. Until we have that, we can’t do anything.”
Althor shook his head. “Tina has no identity. You won’t find her in any database. If assassins take my life, she has nothing. I gave her my word I wouldn’t leave her stranded. The Selei name will give her both a family and protection.”