“I oversee the various academies,” Tahota was saying. “My job is what we call ‘behind the desk.’”
“I see.” Soz didn’t, though. She tried to pick up clues from the colonel’s mind, but Tahota knew how to guard her thoughts well.
“I’m here to discuss your application to DMA,” Tahota said.
Soz squinted at her. “I haven’t made one yet.”
“But you were planning to, I assume.”
“If I pass the prelims.” Soz grimaced. “And if my father doesn’t hit the sky.”
“Yes, your brother said there might be problems. A student your age cannot enroll without parental permission.” Then Tahota added, “Except in certain cases.”
Soz had never heard of such. “What kind of cases?”
“That depends on the discretion of the admissions committee.”
“That must be some discretion,” Soz said, “if they send a Fleet colonel all the way to a backwater planet as the instructor for a boy who hasn’t finished his own studies and to talk to a girl who hasn’t qualified yet to apply.”
To her surprise, Tahota laughed. “Your brother was right.”
“About what?”
“You don’t tiptoe with words.”
Apparently sometimes Althor did know her as well as he had claimed when they were younger. “It’s true,” she admitted.
Tahota pressed a stud on her gauntlet. A chip snapped out of it, elongated into a thin rod, unrolled into a sheet of holofilm, and stiffened. Soz wanted to ask how it worked, but she held back. This didn’t seem the time to indulge the insatiable curiosity that people told her could be truly maddening.
“Here.” Tahota handed her the holosheet. “Take a look.”
Wary, Soz scanned the sheet. Glyphs floated above it, along with charts and symbols. She recognized the J-Force symbol, the silhouette of a Jag in flight. She made out her name near the top of the sheet. The glyphs were in Skolian Flag, which she spoke but rarely used, so it took a while to decipher the rest. She wasn’t certain, but it looked like the graphs referred to her preliminary exams.
“Are these my scores?” Soz asked.
“That is correct.”
Soz tried to speak with nonchalance, though her heart was racing. “Looks like I did well.”
Tahota made an incredulous noise. “Looks like?”
Soz indicated a chart above the sheet. “Well, this doesn’t make sense. It says I did better than one hundred percent of the people who took the test. That isn’t possible.”
“Why not?”
Soz frowned. The colonel had to be testing her; she couldn’t be that dense. “Because the percentage specifies how many people you did better than out of every hundred. Obviously I couldn’t do better than one hundred out of one hundred. That would mean I did better than myself.”
“The numbers are rounded off.” Tahota flicked a holicon, or holographic icon, that floated above the sheet. The numbers changed to show more digits after the decimal place. The 100 percent changed to 99.99999 percent.
Soz whistled. “Good gods. If I didn’t know better, I would say this means I had the top score out of ten million.”
Tahota answered quietly. “That is exactly what it means.”
Soz stared at the holos and a roaring began in her ears. She looked up at the colonel. “I take it this means I qualify to apply.”
Tahota gave a startled laugh. “More than that. I’ve been in my position for three years and I’ve never seen scores like yours. They’re brilliant across the board, as well as in the dossiers ISC and the Assembly have on you.”
Soz stiffened. “ISC and the Assembly keep records on me?”
“On every member of your family. Surely you knew that.”
“Because we’re the royal family?”
“That’s right.”
Soz knew it made sense, however much she disliked it. Technically, the Ruby Dynasty no longer ruled in this age of elected government; they hadn’t for centuries. But they controlled the star-spanning meshes that tied Skolia together into an interstellar empire, and that gave her family a great deal of power. Of course the Assembly kept dossiers. But even that couldn’t dim her mood now. Inside, she was singing. One out of ten million? Surely her father couldn’t tell her no after this. Althor was an honors cadet, but he didn’t burn with the fire that consumed her. How could her father beam with such pride for Althor and begrudge her the same dream?
Tahota was watching her face. “When someone ranks as highly as you’ve done, their admission is automatic.”
“You mean I’m in?”
“I’m authorized to bring you back when Althor and I return to Diesha.”
Soz’s thoughts whirled. Everything she wanted was within her grasp, but it was happening too fast. “My father will never say yes.”
“We don’t normally accept a student without parental consent.” Tahota had that careful quality to her voice again. “However, these are extenuating circumstances. DMA will admit you without their permission if you decide to go that route. We would prefer you had their blessing, but it won’t be required.”
“Good gods, why?” Soz waved the sheet at Tahota. “Just for this?”
“Yes.” Tahota’s gaze never wavered. “How familiar are you with the work of your brother, Imperator Skolia?”
That caught Soz off guard. She found it hard to think of Skolia’s mighty Imperator as her brother. Half brother, actually. Kurj was her mother’s son from a previous marriage. A Jagernaut in his youth, he had risen in the J-Force until he reached its highest rank, Jagernaut Primary. From there he ascended to command of the entire J-Force.
Then he became Imperator.
Kurj commanded ISC. All of it. He was in charge of all four branches, the entire armed forces of Skolia. Soz knew the rumors, that people called him a military dictator, that with the loyalty of ISC, he had more power even than the Assembly. Althor resembled him, but Kurj was more metallic, and even larger than Althor, his physique so massive that he had trouble visiting a heavy gravity world. It was why he rarely came to Lyshriol. Or so he claimed.
Unlike most people, Soz had never feared Kurj. She liked his taciturn style, besides which, he appreciated her interest in the military. She never let him know how she felt, though. She remained on constant guard with him—for Kurj hated her father.
Eldrinson Althor Valdoria, a folksinger from a primitive culture, was seventeen years younger than his stepson. Good genetics, modern medicine, and cell-repair nanomeds gave Roca an apparent age in her twenties, but she had a good half century on her husband. As far as Soz could tell, though, Kurj would have considered his stepfather the scum of the universe regardless of their ages. She didn’t understand why. For all that her father exasperated and annoyed her, he was also one of the finest people she knew. She loved him deeply and she had never doubted he felt the same about his children, no matter how much he struggled to understand them.
Whatever the reason, Kurj’s antipathy toward her father remained strong. If she went to DMA this way, it would wreak havoc within her family. “If Kurj is offering this just to get at my father, I don’t want it.”
Tahota pushed her hand over her head, pulling back hair that had escaped the roll at her neck. “I don’t claim to understand relationships in the Ruby Dynasty. But I can say this: Imperator Skolia has far more important concerns here than his personal life.”
“Such as?”
“He has no heirs.”
Soz snorted. “I’m sure he does, somewhere.” Kurj’s penchant for beautiful women was well known.
“No legitimate heirs,” Tahota amended.
“He has to marry a Rhon psion.” It was why the Assembly hadn’t opposed Roca’s marriage to Eldrinson, despite his being otherwise completely inappropriate in their view. He was Rhon.
Soz knew the drill. Empaths and telepaths, or psions, resulted from the Kyle complex of genetic mutations. The more Kyle genes a psion carried, the greater their abilities. The Rhon
had them all. But the traits were recessive; both parents had to give them to their children. As Imperator, Kurj could dally with whomever he pleased, but he had to marry a Rhon woman. Unfortunately, the Rhon were rare almost to extinction; the only ones known were related to him. The Assembly had coerced the Rhon to intermarry once, forcing a union between Soz’s oldest brother and his aunt, the Ruby Pharaoh. The resulting turmoil had nearly destabilized the government. They weren’t likely to try such again. So Kurj remained single. She doubted he cared. He liked his freedom. He was almost sixty, but he looked thirty and he could father children until he was old and doddering if he wanted.
It wasn’t anything she wished to discuss with Tahota, though. She said only, “I’m not sure what this has to do with DMA.”
“Imperator Skolia inherited his position.”
That was tactful. Better than saying, Your brother assassinated your grandfather. It might not be true, after all. It could have been an accident. Soz had no idea; it had happened before her birth. The previous Imperator had been Roca’s father.
Roca was a politician, not a military leader, but nevertheless, she should have inherited the title. Kurj had taken it instead, by forcing his way into the Dyad ahead of her. The Assembly had found him kneeling next to his grandfather’s body. They ruled the death an accident, but that could have been because they were terrified of his immense power. By that time, he commanded the loyalty of Imperial Space Command, the massive Skolian military.
Soz said only, “Yes.”
“He needs heirs. They must come from your family.”
“I doubt it.” Going for the greatest understatement of all time, Soz added, “Kurj doesn’t like my father.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Tahota’s cautious tone made Soz think the colonel knew far more than she admitted. “But his heirs must come from your family.”
This visit began to make more sense. “He picked Althor, I take it.”
Tahota said, simply, “Yes.”
Soz tried not to grit her teeth. Of course he would choose Althor. Why not? Shannon had said it this afternoon. Althor was magnificent. He even looked like Kurj. Why the blazes this colonel came all the way here to tell her this news was a mystery Soz could have done without.
Then, suddenly, she saw. It was a courtesy. Kurj wanted her to know before he made the announcement. Letting her attend DMA would ameliorate the blow. She had never expected anyone in her family to become the Imperial Heir, but in her more audacious moments she had imagined it, that she would rise through the ranks as Kurj had done and someday command ISC. Damn it all, they hadn’t even given her a chance to prove herself.
She spoke coolly. “I’m sure Althor is pleased.”
“He doesn’t know yet.”
“Oh.” Soz folded her arms. “Why tell me first?”
And Tahota said, “You are Kurj’s other choice.”
Soz froze. “What?”
“You are his other choice for the Imperial Heir. Possibly your brother Kelric, too, though it is too early to tell yet for him.” Tahota leaned against the wall. “Of all the Valdoria children, only the three of you show sufficient ability to succeed the Imperator. Going by seniority, Althor would be the first choice. By aptitude, you would be first.”
Soz barely heard anything past the first sentence. Gods all-flamingmighty. Tahota had showed up out of nowhere and dropped an antimatter bomb. She took a deep breath. “You have to slow down.”
“All right.” Tahota waited, giving her time.
Soz spoke slowly. “You’re saying that Kurj wants Althor and me to be his heirs. To succeed him as Imperator.” She reeled at the words. “He hasn’t decided who will be first in line, but Althor and I are the heir and the spare?”
“That about sums it up.”
Soz struggled to reorient. Although she had always known she was in line for the Ruby Throne, she had never expected this. Her Aunt Dehya was the Ruby Pharaoh. Their ancestors had ruled a matriarchal empire, but now an elected Assembly governed Skolia. The dynasty still existed, however. The pharaoh had broken with tradition and named her son and only child as her heir, followed by Roca and Roca’s children, both the daughters and the sons. Soz was eighth in line, too far down to expect anything. Nor had she ever thought Kurj would choose his heir from among the children of the stepfather he so deeply resented. She didn’t know whether to shout, laugh, or blanch.
“It’s—unexpected,” Soz said.
Tahota smiled. “But deserved.”
“Wait until I tell Denric.” At sixteen, he was nearest in age to her of all her siblings, and they were close despite their different interests. “He won’t believe it.”
“We would rather you say nothing,” Tahota said. “Not until the new line of succession is announced.”
“This is a lot to think about.” Soz squinted at her. “I’ll bet it isn’t a usual part of your duties, telling prospective DMA cadets they might become Imperator.”
Tahota gave a startled laugh. “No, it isn’t.”
“Why couldn’t Kurj tell me himself?”
Tahota went into careful mode, so obviously choosing her words with caution that she could have been walking through a minefield. “The Imperator thought my presence here might be more conducive to a peaceful visit.”
“That was tactful,” Soz said. “You could have just come out and said my half brother hates my father’s guts and wouldn’t go near this planet if you gave him another half a galaxy.”
Tahota cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know.”
I’ll bet. Kurj had chosen Tahota well; she knew how to be discreet. “You know, it’s funny,” Soz said. “When I saw the Jag landing, I thought it would end this idyllic life I have here.”
Tahota raised an eyebrow. “Why would a Jag endanger your family?”
“It wasn’t danger.” Soz looked toward the port, which was just barely visible around the edge of the castle. Althor’s Jag waited on the tarmac, gleaming like alabaster. “I was going to ask the pilot to take me to Diesha. When I got there, I was going to apply for status as an emancipated minor, so I didn’t need parental consent for DMA.” The alternative would have been to wait eight more years, until she was twenty-five, an adult under Skolian law.
Tahota spoke quietly. “That’s a big step.”
“I know. I don’t want to hurt my family. I just can’t be what I’m not.” She waved her hand at the plains basking in the golden sunlight. “This is beautiful, but it’s not me. I can’t marry Lord Rillia and settle down having babies. I would go crazy.”
“Your aptitude tests say as much.”
“I didn’t expect to get support from DMA.”
“Why not?”
Soz shrugged. “I’m sure you have hundreds of good applicants.”
“Thousands,” Tahota said. “For about thirty positions.”
It didn’t surprise her. Academies for the other branches of ISC were larger than DMA. Jagernauts not only had to be empaths, which were rare, they also had to survive one of the most psychologically grueling jobs in ISC.
“I have to talk with my father,” Soz said.
The colonel nodded. “I want to tell Althor first, though.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Soz hesitated. “Do you think he has any idea?”
“I think so. I’ll talk to him this evening and let you know after I do.” Tahota regarded her with understanding. “I’m here for your support and to answer any questions your parents have.”
“Thanks.” Soz hesitated, not wanting to jinx any of this but unable to contain her questions. “Why are you offering to take me now? I’m a year too young.”
“Your scores say you’re ready.”
“Even so.” Although Soz couldn’t pick up much from Tahota’s wellguarded mind, she sensed gaps in the colonel’s answer. “I’ll be more ready next year.”
Tahota’s face turned grim. “Hostilities between Skolia and the Trader Empire are escalating.”
“That isn’t in the broa
dcasts.”
“No. It isn’t.” Tahota exhaled. “Will we go to war? No one knows. But ISC is pushing its best cadets through as fast as possible.”
It made sense to Soz.
She just didn’t know how she would tell her family.
3
Blue Dale Moons
Shannon stayed away while his family celebrated at dinner. He knew his behavior puzzled them. Their thoughts brushed his mind. He didn’t hide; if they believed he was lost or in trouble, they would come looking for him. But he stayed away, keeping to himself.
He had known before the Jag landed that Althor was coming home. His brother’s luminous mind warmed his like a sun. It had always been that way with the two of them. It had devastated him the day Althor left home. He understood little about why his siblings or parents did what they did. He loved his family, but as he had grown older, he had felt more apart from them. His life here left him restless and empty, and he didn’t know how to fill the gaps. Although lately he always thought of girls, it was never those in the village. He imagined girls like himself, with white-gold hair and silver eyes, slender instead of voluptuous, ethereal and misty. In Dalvador they were too robust, too much the daughters of farmers. He wanted to ride in the wind, never stopping, never settling. To be chained to a farm, trapped by the land—he could never bear such a life. It baffled him that Vyrl wanted it so much, enough even to study agriculture at the university. Shannon loved his brother and his sister-in-law and their children, but that life seemed hell to him.
While the family dined, Shannon stayed in the stable. He sat in a stall next to Moonglaze, his father’s massive war lyrine. He understood lyrine in a way he couldn’t fathom people. Lyrine never analyzed. They lived in the moment, with no emotional barriers between them and the people they loved. It made sense to Shannon. Humans analyzed too much.
One of his biology texts claimed lyrine descended from horses and had been genetically engineered for Lyshriol. Shannon didn’t care. They weren’t horses now. Moonglaze’s prismatic hooves and his two horns splintered light into colors that sparkled and danced. Even in the dim light, hints of rainbows flashed on the amberglass stall as Moonglaze shifted restlessly. The great lyrine would have kicked most people who intruded on his privacy, but he tolerated Shannon and Eldrinson.