Bolt, did they put anything else in your memory?
Nothing.
Kelric studied the massive gauntlets on his wrists. What are you trying to tell me?
A sense of an alien intellect washed over him. Home.
Home. If it wanted the SSRB Lock, he didn't see how he could help. He stared down at the War Room, and Bolt let the map fade. The dais on the far side of the amphitheater was empty, and the corridor to the First Lock lay beyond it. Transparent columns bordered the corridor, and ancient mechanisms gleamed within them, moving gears and levers that flashed lights. The path extended away from the dais until it dwindled to a point of perspective, as if it went on forever.
Have you detected anything unusual from this Lock? he asked Bolt.
Nothing. But I don't normally communicate with a space- time singularity.
Kelric smiled at its phrasing. A Lock didn't communicate, it simply existed. Even that wasn't certain. If someone who wasn't a psion tried to enter the Lock, they found nothing in the chamber at the end of the corridor. He suspected they could find the singularity only if they entered the room when a Ruby psion was already there. He had never tried to bring in someone else; it seemed wrong. The Lock wanted only its Keys to visit that surreal place where two universes intersected.
A psion who wasn't a Ruby could sense the singularity. They knew it was there, unlike someone with no Kyle ability. But the farther they went down the corridor, the greater the pressure on their mind, until they had to turn back or black out. Only a Ruby psion could endure its power and reach the chamber.
The Lock had never bothered Kelric. It felt right. He was always aware of it at the edges of his mind, and Dehya described a similar effect. That was the closest they came to communication with it. Kelric rarely walked that corridor. He had no reason to; he was already a Key. Whether formation of the Dyad was its purpose or simply a side effect, he had no idea. He and Dehya took care never to disturb it, except in emergencies. He had no idea of such a situation now, but the warning from the gauntlets disturbed him. They either couldn't or wouldn't tell him more, and he couldn't go to the Lock where he had found them.
But he could go to the one here.
The Sphinx Sector Rim Base formed one of several command centers for the Eubian military. The base consisted of many space stations executing intricate orbits around one another. From far away, they sparkled like jewels in deep space; closer in, they resolved into giant habitats bristling with weapons, antennae, and space debris. The Lock that ESComm had stolen from the Skolians orbited in the center of the system. Most of the habitats supported lush biospheres and populations in the millions, but the Lock was small and purely functional, only machinery and metal.
Colonel Vatrix Muze had been in charge of the Lock station the first time Jaibriol had visited, ten years ago, and he still held the prestigious post. In the convoluted kinship relations among Aristos, Muze had ties to both Jaibriol and Robert. The colonel was the grandson of High Judge Calope Muze, Jaibriol's cousin, and Calope's uncle had sired Robert's mother, which meant Jaibriol and Robert were also distantly related.
Colonel Muze and a retinue of officers met Jaibriol in the docking bay. Muze bowed to him. "We are deeply honored by your visit, Your Glorious Highness."
Jaibriol knew he was lying. The colonel's mind grated even through his protections. Muze was no happier to see him today than the first time they had met, ten years ago. It wasn't only the relentless pressure of Muze's mind that bothered Jaibriol; he also felt the man's covert hostility, the most dangerous kind, antagonism hidden behind a veneer of deference.
Muze escorted him along a corridor that curved upward in the distance, following the curve of the rotating station. They were essentially walking on the inside of a huge donut in space. Jaibriol's guards surrounded them, Robert stayed at his side, and Muze's aides followed. Jaibriol felt as if his mind were splitting open. It wasn't only Muze; the colonel's three aides all had enough Aristo lineage to manifest that searching hunger for transcendence. It pressed down on Jaibriol, wore at him, exhausted him, until it was all he could do to keep from lurching forward. Robert glanced at him with concern, but Jaibriol didn't dare acknowledge it or otherwise reveal any sign of weakness.
"We have optimism," Colonel Muze was saying. "A team of distortion physicists is attending our discourse on the fabric of space-time. It is auspicious that they bring their ideas into our sphere."
Jaibriol wished the colonel would just come out and flaming say that the scientists sent to study the implosions had arrived. Nor had he ever heard of distortion physics. For all he knew, Muze had made it up. It would be a typical Highton ploy to ridicule someone.
"One would hope they don't distort their own name," Jaibriol said.
Muze glanced at him with a bland expression. "Your wit dazzles, Your Highness."
Wit, indeed. Muze's veiled antagonism jabbed at Jaibriol's shields. He lowered his barriers so he could probe the colonel's mind, but the pressure immediately increased, and he stumbled as his vision darkened.
"Your Highness?" Muze spoke smoothly, watching Jaibriol like a hawk that had spotted prey.
Jaibriol caught his balance and gave no sign he acknowledged Muze's implied question about his health. He struggled to rebuild his barriers. Mercifully, the onslaught receded, and the haze faded from his vision. It didn't bode well that Muze had caught his lapse; Hightons were experts at reading body language. Muze would interpret his dizziness as weakness, and when Aristos saw weakness, they attacked, often subtly, but they found ways to exploit any failing they perceived in a foe. And Jaibriol had no doubt Muze saw him in those terms. He had made enemies in ESComm when he opened negotiations with the Skolians.
Jaibriol had read the files on all his top ESComm officers. Many of them abhorred the Skolians. He had once thought their hatred derived from their conviction Skolians were a lower form of life. And that was part of it. They considered it repellent that a dynasty of "providers" had established an empire to rival their own. But as much as they refused to admit it, the Aristos also felt beaten down by the constant hostilities. They wanted to conquer Skolia because they were tired of war. It didn't create a desire in them to negotiate; the only solution they considered acceptable was eradication of the Imperialate and the enslavement of all Skolian peoples.
I.
The Lock corridor in the Skolian Orbiter lay in front of Kelric. Its lights seemed faster today. As a Key to the web, he was more attuned to the Lock than anyone else alive except Dehya. It was agitated, if one could apply a human emotion to a physical place. The corridor stretched out in front of him to that seemingly infinite point. Even knowing it lay inside a space habitat only a few kilometers in diameter, it unsettled Kelric. Perhaps it did go on that incredible distance, twisting into another place that wasn't aligned with this space-time.
Behind him, the War Room registered as a subdued hum. The Orbiter's thirty-hour cycle was deep into night. Even this late, telops were at work, monitoring the far-flung forces of an empire. Kelric knew they were aware of him, probably wondering what he intended to do. It was a good question: he wasn't sure himself.
He began to walk the corridor.
His boots clanged on the diamond-steel floor. He continued on, inundated with brightness from the brilliant surfaces, the pillars, the glow suffusing the area. On he walked, toward a point that never came closer.
And walked.
And walked.
Time seemed bent, as if it had curved away, around a corner. Surely it hadn't taken this long to reach the SSRB Lock. He felt as if he were walking forever down an endless path. He experienced none of the pressure other psions described in the corridor. Maybe he couldn't feel it; he lacked mental finesse, having an immense but blunt power.
The point of perspective finally began to change, growing into an archway that glowed as if it were white light. He stopped in front of it and set his hand against the side, convincing himself of its solidity. Then he stepped into the
Lock chamber. Radiance enveloped him; with so much light, he could barely see the room. It was only ten paces wide, but its walls rose high over his head, lost in a luminous fog.
The Lock pierced the center of the chamber in a radiant column of light. It rose out of the floor and disappeared into the haze overhead. This was the singularity, the point where another universe punctured space-time. Kelric steeled himself, unsure what he would find but certain he needed to find out.
Then he stepped into the pillar of light.
XVII
Pillar Of Darkness
"Your meeting with Colonel Muze and his staff is tomorrow at First Hour," Robert said. He rolled his mesh film out on the desk next to the armchair where Jaibriol had slumped. Glancing over, he spoke carefully. "They are all Aristos."
Jaibriol barely heard. He sat sprawled in his chair, too worn out to move. Tonight's dinner with the colonel and his top officers had been interminable. It battered his mental defenses. Nor did it help that the twenty-hour day here threw off his sleep cycle, which had adjusted to the sixteen-hour day on Glory. Muze had given him the best quarters on the station, though they were cramped and utilitarian. Jaibriol didn't care; he just wanted a reprieve from the pain in his head. He suspected his dinner companions had been transcending at a low level, unaware their good moods came from their emperor's splintering headache. In one of the grimmer ironies of his life, the very trait that made them so dangerous to him also improved their temper in his presence and ameliorated his tendency to antagonize them.
"Luminos down," Jaibriol said. He should answer Robert, but he barely felt able to talk. He needed time for the health nanomeds in his body to help him recover.
The lights dimmed, and the walls softened into soothing views of space with spumes of interstellar gas. With an exhale, Jaibriol slumped lower in his chair.
Robert was watching him with that concerned look he had worn ever since they had arrived. "Can I get you anything?"
"Thank you. But I'm fine." Jaibriol wasn't and never would be, but nothing Robert could do would change that miserable fact.
It felt strange to be so close to a Lock and sense nothing. No life. When ESComm had stolen this Lock from the Skolians, they had also captured Eldrin Valdoria, Kelric's older brother. As a Ruby psion, Eldrin could have become a Key, and with both a Lock and Key, the Aristos could have created their own Kyle web. The day they had enslaved Eldrin, the dream of Jaibriol's parents had ended, for Eube had gained the final ingredient it needed to conquer Skolia.
At the time, Jaibriol had been traveling as a member of a humanitarian organization, the Dawn Corps of the Allied Worlds. Desperate to protect both his parents' dream and his uncle, he had offered Corbal a trade: himself for Eldrin. It was the only exchange Corbal would consider for his captive Ruby psion: a Qox emperor he believed had the energy to conquer Skolia and raise Eube to greater heights, in exchange for the Skolian prince who might make it possible to conquer Skolia despite having no Qox heir to assume the throne. The death of Jaibriol's father had left Eube tottering on collapse; a vibrant young emperor could mean the difference between survival and breakdown.
Corbal's decision to accept Jaibriol's offer had outraged many Aristos. They also questioned why Corbal gave up his claim to the throne. Jaibriol had no doubts on that—Corbal had expected to rule from the shadows, manipulating the boy emperor. It had taken him longer to realize that Corbal had recognized his secret; Jaibriol lacked the same neural structures Corbal had eliminated in himself so he would no longer transcend. Only someone who had done the unthinkable among the Aristos would have uncovered the truth:
Jaibriol's great-grandfather had been Aristo.
His grandfather had been half Aristo, half Ruby.
His father had been a Ruby psion.
Jaibriol was a Ruby psion.
The Qox Dynasty had created its own Key.
Corbal hadn't just wanted to rule from behind the throne; he wanted Jaibriol to join the powerlink, make the Dyad a Triad, build a Kyle web, and conquer the stars. Corbal had sought to rule the sum total of humanity, all of it, Skolia and the Allieds included, through a puppet emperor. Except Jaibriol had proved far less malleable than he expected. Jaibriol couldn't deny the lure of the power, but he could no more inflict Aristo rule on all humanity than he could transcend. He had also realized his cousin didn't transcend, for Corbal didn't have that immense cavity in his mind. So the two of them had reached an impasse; they each kept the other's secrets.
Jaibriol could never trust his cousin. And yet . . . over the years, something had happened. Corbal's attitude toward him had changed. If Jaibriol hadn't known better, he might have called it familial love. He did know better, of course; he wasn't that naïve.
A chime sounded. Disoriented, Jaibriol opened his eyes and blinked at Robert. "What is that?"
Robert frowned at his mesh film. "Colonel Muze wishes an audience with you."
Jaibriol swore under his breath. "Tell him I'm asleep."
"If that is what you wish,' Robert said formally, "I will take care of it."
Jaibriol wanted to groan. He hated it when Robert talked that way. "In other words, you think I should see him."
"You need his good will," Robert said. "Or at least the best relation you can establish with him. It isn't unreasonable for the station commander to pay his courtesies during a visit such as this. Refusing his request would be an insult."
Jaibriol didn't feel up to dealing with Muze, but what he avoided today could escalate tomorrow. "Very well," he said tiredly. "Bring him in."
As Robert set up the audience, Jaibriol sat up and rested one elbow on the arm of his chair, a posture he had learned by studying portraits of his ancestors, who were often shown seated this way in some imperially elegant place. He had noticed the posture had a subtle effect on people; they viewed him as more regal. It disquieted him that it felt so natural.
His bodyguards ushered Colonel Muze into the room. Hidaka walked at Muze's side, looming over him, his boots clanking. All of Jaibriol's guards were present, six counting Hidaka, one at each wall of the hexagonal chamber. They had that preternatural stillness of Razers, like waiting machines.
Muze bowed to Jaibriol. "My honor at your revered company, Glorious Highness."
Jaibriol nodded stiffly, an acceptance of the greeting with no indication the honor was either returned or refused. He didn't want to alienate Muze any more than he did just by being himself, but neither did he want to encourage the colonel. He lifted his hand, indicating a brocaded armchair identical to his. Both had extensive mech-tech that read body language and adjusted for comfort. On this utilitarian habitat, though, the brocade was more of a rarity than the smart tech.
After Muze was seated, Jaibriol waited. The colonel had requested the audience and he was lower in status than the emperor, so protocol required he broach the discussion first.
"Your visit brings fortune to our station," Muze opened.
"It would appear the vagaries of space-time also bring theirs," Jaibriol said, referring to the implosions. His nanomeds had eased his headache, but it was growing worse again.
"It is great bravery to set oneself in a path of the inexplicable." Muze tilted his head slightly to the left, a hint of contradiction.
Jaibriol knew what he implied; only a fool traveled into the path of an unexplained violent phenomenon. He gritted his teeth, but he could live with the barb. As long as Muze viewed him as callow and ill-advised, he wouldn't suspect Jaibriol's real reason for coming here. Muze didn't seem surprised by his interest; the Lock was, after all, their most valuable acquisition from the Skolians. No one knew if it could revive, and securing a Ruby psion had proved inordinately difficult, but as long as they had the Lock, the chance of creating their own Kyle web remained.
Jaibriol said nothing and let Muze stew. Eventually the colonel would get around to his reason for inflicting this audience. Jaibriol just hoped his head hadn't split open by then.
"It is rare that we hav
e the pleasure of such a magnificent visit," Muze said.
"Indeed," Jaibriol said, and hoped his agreement stuck in Muze's craw. It probably wouldn't; Aristos expected their emperor to think of himself in grandiose terms.
"Would that we could offer your Glorious Highness a better environment," Muze added, his expression cagey.
Jaibriol didn't mind about the small quarters; he would be just as miserable in a bigger room. He said only, "It would be auspicious." He was running out of inflated adjectives.
Muze's eyes glinted. "Perhaps we could provide Your Magnificence a small token of our esteem."
With his headache, it took Jaibriol a moment to absorb what Muze meant. Then he felt sick. The colonel had just offered him a provider so Jaibriol could torture some psion even more unfortunate than himself. He wished he could toss the colonel out, but he didn't dare stir suspicion, especially during this visit. Jaibriol usually avoided "gifts" of providers using his fidelity to his wife as the reason, which was considered bizarre but not abhorrent. But at times, he couldn't avoid it without crossing what Aristos considered an unacceptable line, which meant he had to be present when they transcended. Sometimes it made him so deeply ill, he thought he would lose his mind, and right now he felt close to the edge.