The loneliness of those days had weighed on him, for he could never acknowledge his parents. But it had also been a gentle time when he made friends, went to school, played sports, attended church, and had the closest he would ever come to a normal life. He and his siblings had cared deeply for Seth. Their mother had taken them to the retired admiral because he had been the Ruby Pharaoh's first consort, an arranged union that established a treaty between Skolia and the Allied Worlds. That he and the pharaoh later ended the marriage hadn't dissolved the treaty. Although technically Seth was no longer a member of the Ruby Dynasty, Jaibriol's mother had trusted him, enough to leave her children and their secret in his care.
Jaibriol didn't know what had happened to his sister and brothers; he had been offworld when he claimed his throne, and they had been on Earth. He had searched the meshes for them and found nothing. He feared to investigate too far, lest he endanger them with his attention, but he mourned the loss of their companionship as much as he grieved for his parents.
Tarquine had erased the few images of him on the meshes from that time on Earth. He hadn't looked Aristo then, with gold streaks in his hair and brown contacts that covered his red eyes. She wanted no questions. Not long after their marriage, she had cracked his secured medical files and discovered he had the same nanomeds in his body as Kelric. Roca Skolia had passed the meds to her children in her womb, and Jaibriol inherited them from his mother. From that, Tarquine had deduced the truth. Only she could have found that damning shred of evidence because she had owned, ever so briefly, a member of the Ruby Dynasty.
Tarquine had destroyed the files.
Why she protected him, Jaibriol didn't know, though surely it was because he held a similarly damning secret about her, that she no longer transcended. It seemed impossible it could be because she loved him.
Slumping back on the sofa, he put his feet on the table in front of him. Gold and midnight blue brocade glimmered on the sofa and the wing chair at right angles to it. Far across the suite, his canopied bed stood on a dais. The bedroom gleamed, gilt and ivory, with blue accents and tiered chandeliers.
His guards were outside. This bedroom suite was one of the few places with enough safeguards to allow him privacy even from his formidable Razers. They were infamous for their supposedly inhuman nature, but Jaibriol wondered, especially about Hidaka. He felt certain the guard knew when he wanted to be alone and when he wanted visitors, and did his best to ensure Jaibriol's wishes were met. Why Hidaka would care, he had no idea, but he appreciated the results.
His wrist comm buzzed. Lifting his arm, he said, "Qox."
One of his guards answered. "Robert Muzeson is here, Your Highness. Shall we let him in?"
"Yes, certainly," Jaibriol said.
As Jaibriol sat up, the arched door to the entrance foyer opened. Its corners were curved, avoiding the right angles Aristos abhorred. Squared-off corners, like direct speech, were for slaves. Aristos considered abstraction elevated; Jaibriol considered it maddening.
Hidaka escorted Robert inside and bowed deeply to Jaibriol.
"Thank you," Jaibriol told the guard. Then he added, quietly, "For everything, Captain."
For an instant something showed on Hidaka's face. Shock? Jaibriol wasn't certain. He tried to pick up a mood from the captain, but he couldn't read the Razer's mental processes, which had been substantially altered by the extensive biomech in his brain.
After Hidaka withdrew, Jaibriol motioned Robert to the wing chair. "Relax, please."
"Thank you, Your Highness." Robert settled in the chair and leaned back, though he wasn't truly relaxed. Jaibriol remained slouched on the sofa, his long legs on the table. He knew it wasn't regal, but he really didn't care.
Robert looked as professional as always, a fit middle-aged man with brown hair. He dressed in elegant clothes of muted colors with peculiar names like ecru. To Jaibriol, it just looked like pale brown. Robert didn't have the stunning appearance of his father, Caleb, but from what Jaibriol had gathered about Caleb's life before he came to the palace, those good looks had brought him only grief. He had been a provider for Robert's mother. Now Caleb spent his days painting, as he had done before he was sold as a slave.
Jaibriol exhibited Caleb's work in one of the palace galleries. He never considered his patronage a favor; Caleb had great talent and was developing a well-deserved renown. The gratitude Robert and his father expressed made him want to crawl in a hole. How could they thank him? He owned them. They wore slave cuffs on their wrists and collars threaded with picotech that included ID chips and security monitors. They ought to hate him. Maybe they felt that way about other Aristos; he had certainly sensed it in Caleb. But never about him.
Right now, he sensed calm from Robert. Although Jaibriol could pick up moods, he couldn't always tell why a person felt that way. The emotions might be vague or mixed together. He received the clearest impressions from other psions. As a telepath, he might glean hints of a person's thoughts, but only if they were strong, well-articulated, and on the surface of the mind. Even to do that, he had to lower his barriers. He could mind-speak only with his family. One of the many reasons he appreciated Robert was because very little ruffled the aide. He wasn't a psion, so Jaibriol didn't have to shield his mind, and Robert's even temper often eased Jaibriol's agitated moods.
"Do I have any appointments?" Jaibriol asked. He had slept last night, so tonight he would work.
Robert unrolled his mesh film onto a board in his lap and read from the screen. "Nothing for the next three hours. A report came in on that explosion in the Amethyst Wing."
Jaibriol leaned his head against the headrest on the sofa and closed his eyes. "What caused it?"
"That's the rub of it, Your Highness. They found nothing wrong with the pipes and no indication of explosives."
Jaibriol opened his eyes. "That makes no sense."
"It doesn't appear to, no." Robert squinted at his screen. "It says here that about three centimeters above the pipe, space imploded. The surrounding region of space time collapsed into the hole left behind in the, uh, weave of space and time." He looked up to meet Jaibriol's incredulous stare. "I'm sorry, Sire. That is what it says."
"They expect me to believe it?" Maybe they thought he was an idiot. "How would repair techs know that?"
"They forwarded a report to a team of Professor Quenzer in the physics department at Qoxire University," Robert said. "Her research team came to examine the blast area and data. They are the ones who proposed the theory."
"Oh." Although Jaibriol knew very little about physics, even he had heard of the renowned Quenzer group. If they said space was falling apart, he would have to take them seriously. "It's an odd theory." To put it mildly.
"That's not all," Robert said. "Three other explosions took place, one on this planet, one in space, and one on a starliner in Sapphire Sector."
Jaibriol swung his legs off the table and sat up straight. "All like the one here?"
"It appears so."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"Several people on the liner had to be treated for minor injuries they sustained during a hull breach. But the situation was contained without any serious problems."
"What about the second blast here?"
"It happened in the Jaizire range." Robert looked regretful. "I'm afraid it destroyed a portion of one of your mountains."
Jaibriol loved the peaks and their wild, primordial forests, but he would far rather lose a mountain than people. "Why would space implode in four different places? It sounds crazy."
"No one seems to know," Robert said.
"Do they think it will happen again?" The prospect of space falling apart that way was just too eerie.
"They don't know that, either."
"Well, have them investigate it. The physicists, I mean." Jaibriol rubbed his eyes. "I want to know why it's happening."
Robert bent over his mesh screen. "I will see to it."
Jaibriol hesitated. "I have a question for yo
u, Robert."
His aide looked up. "Yes, Sire?"
"Did I say something strange to Hidaka just now?"
"I don't think so. Why do you ask?"
Jaibriol felt odd, asking if he had offended his biomech guard. "He seemed taken aback when I thanked him."
Robert's puzzlement vanished. "You didn't trouble him, I'm sure. Surprised him, perhaps."
"Why?"
"You thanked him."
Jaibriol waited. When his aide said nothing more, he spoke wryly, "Aristos do say thank you, you know."
Robert met his gaze. "Not to machines."
"He's not a machine. None of them are."
Robert didn't answer. They both knew that not only would other Aristos disagree, they would find Jaibriol's statement offensive, a threat even. If they started acknowledging their slaves as human, their carefully crafted worldview would crumble. They had far too much power and wealth at stake to let that happen.
A beep came from Robert's mesh. Peering at the screen, he flicked his finger through several holoicons. "I'm getting a message for you." His eyes widened. "Good gods."
Jaibriol leaned forward. "What is it?"
Robert looked up, his face pale. "Someone tried to kill Imperator Skolia."
Hell and damnation. "Who did it?" Jaibriol could guess. "Someone who didn't think the Imperialate military should have as much power as the Assembly handed him with that vote, yes?"
Robert scanned the screen. "It looks that way. His people aren't releasing much information. The attempt took place in public, though, and monitors in the area recorded it."
"So they can't hush it up," Jaibriol said, shaken. He had almost lost another family member. "He's all right, isn't he?"
Robert looked up with a start, then caught himself and said, "According to these broadcasts, he's fine."
Jaibriol didn't need to ask Robert why he gaped. A normal Eubian emperor, upon learning that his greatest enemy had suffered a murder attempt, wouldn't seek assurance his foe was all right.
"They would claim everything is fine no matter what," Robert said. "It does look true, though." He indicated his screen, and Jaibriol leaned over to peer at it. The news holo showed Kelric climbing to his feet in the middle of a plaza, surrounded by three huge Jagernauts with gigantic black guns.
"So," Jaibriol said. As much as he wished the specter of Kelric Skolia would disappear from his life, or at least his wife's memory, it relieved him to see his uncle well. Of course, that assumed the broadcasts told the truth.
"Imperator Skolia doesn't have an heir," he said. "If he dies, it will destabilize the Imperialate."
"His mother is his heir," Robert said.
Jaibriol didn't want to think about succession in the Ruby Dynasty, because it meant considering the death of people his mother had loved. He had never met her family, but through her, he felt as if he could love them as well, given the chance. It would never happen; they would probably rather see him dead first. And no matter how uncomfortable it made him, he had to consider the ramifications should any of them die.
"If Roca Skolia became Imperator," Jaibriol said, "she might be more amenable to the talks."
"If Roca Skolia became Imperator," Robert said flatly, "she would destroy the galaxy to avenge the murder of her child."
Jaibriol couldn't argue with that. She might be moderate politically, but rumor claimed she was fiercely protective of her family. The ferocity didn't surprise him in the least. Her daughter—Jaibriol's mother—had been the same way.
Jaibriol shook his head. He didn't want to imagine the consequences if Kelric took the mandate offered to him by that vote. Jaibriol knew that going to war against his own family would destroy him.
It had been ten years since Kelric walked in the desert of Coba. Hot wind tugged his leather jacket and the pullover he wore underneath. Gusts pulled at the Talha scarf hanging around his neck. Woven from coarse white and black yarn, the Talha resembled a muffler, with tassels along its edges.
Carrying his duffle, he walked down the sand-scoured street of the port. Najo, Axer, and Strava stalked at his side, sleek and lethal, each with the bulk of a Jumbler on his or her hip. They scanned the area continually and monitored it with their gauntlets. They weren't happy about this trip, even less so because he had told them almost nothing of his intentions.
They encountered no one. The place consisted of a few wide streets bordered by unused buildings. Robots kept the tiny port in shape, and travelers rarely visited. Nothing more than a low wall surrounded the base; beyond it, desert stretched in every direction, punctuated by sand dunes mottled with spiky green plants, and by bluffs streaked with red and yellow layers of rock. It reminded Kelric of ballads his father had sung about a starkly beautiful desert that separated the world of mortals from the land of the two sun gods.
They soon reached a wide gap in the wall. A pitted windrider stood beyond it, partially buried in drifts of sand. That was it. No gate. Nothing. On this side, they were Skolians: on the other, their citizenship ceased to matter. Even knowing that, his guards didn't hesitate to walk with out him into the Coban desert. Restricted territory.
Kelric spoke into his gauntlet. "Bolt, connect me to the port EI." He could have thought the command to his node, but he wanted his guards to witness what he had to say.
Bolt's voice came out of the mesh. "Connecting."
The EI that ran the port spoke. "ISC-Coba attending."
"ISC-Coba," Kelric said, "I'm sending you some codes. Use them to access the Kyle web and contact the EI called 'Dirac' on the Orbiter space station."
"Understood," ISC-Coba said.
Najo watched him with that uncanny ability of his to seem utterly still. Strava rested her hand on her Jumbler while she scanned the desert. Axer was checking the area with his gauntlet.
"Contact made," ISC-Coba said.
Dirac's rich baritone rumbled. "My greetings, Imperator Skolia."
Kelric gzed north to mountains that reared against the pale sky. It had been so long. "Dirac, how many days until my Closure becomes permanent?"
"Ninety-seven," Dirac said.
Najo stiffened, his eyes widening. Axer raised his head, and Strava snapped her attention back to Kelric. Learning he would be legally dead in ninety-seven days had to be unnerving for the people tasked with ensuring he stayed alive.
Kelric turned toward the nearby windrider. It was painted like a giant althawk, with red wings and a rusted head that had once gleamed. The landing gear resembled black talons, or it would have if he could have seen under the sand dunes drifted around the aircraft.
"Dirac," he said. "Cancel the Closure."
A pause. "Cancelled," Dirac said.
Najo started to speak. Kelric didn't know how he looked, but whatever Najo was about to say, he changed his mind. Axer and Strava exchanged glances.
"Closing connection," Kelric told Dirac.
"Orbiter connection closed," ISC-Coba stated.
"ISC-Coba," Kelric said. "Verify my identity."
"You are the Imperator of Skolia."
Kelric stopped then, unable to take the final step. He tried to go on, but no words came.
"Do you have a command?" ISC-Coba asked.
"Yes." He took a deep breath. "Change the status of this world from Restricted to Protected."
"That requires a review by Imperial Space Command."
"I'm the Imperator. That's review enough."
Silence.
In truth, Kelric knew of no cases where ISC had altered a world's status without a review. The process could take years. However, nothing prohibited him from doing it. In theory.
Then ISC-Coba said, "Status changed."
Kelric exhaled. A human probably would have protested. "End communication."
"Connection closed," Bolt said.
Najo spoke. "Sir, to protect you, we need to know what's going on."
Kelric indicated the mountains. "We're going to a city up there. The air is even thinner than here, so u
se caution in any exertions. The food varies from irritating to toxic, at least to us, but our nanomeds can deal with it. Boiling the water helps. For a short stay, we should be all right." Eighteen years here, with his meds failing, had nearly killed him. By the time he had left, he had been dying. His capture and subsequent escape from Trader slavery had worsened the injuries to his body and biomech, until he had gone deaf and blind, and lost the use of his legs. Jeejon had given up everything she owned to get him help; without her, he wouldn't have survived.