Part 20 (1/2)
”Like Garlin?” Hope leaked into his mood. ”His mind is like mine, but he has never had a problem.”
”Yes. Like Garlin. But stronger.”
His mood became tender. ”This child is a miracle.”
”Yes,” she agreed softly. ”A wonder.”
”I composed a song, just in case it was true about the baby.”
Her mood lifted. ”Ah, Eldri, I would love to hear it.”
He sang for her then, in Trillian, his voice heartbreakingly beautiful. She listened in joy, but also sorrow, knowing he hadn't asked the questions she most dreaded-for he didn't know them.
Roca was having too much trouble with the pregnancy. She and Eldri had too many differences, not just their hands or coloring, but also in biochemistry. They came from different stocks of genetically engineered humans. For all the midwife's experience, she had nothing resembling the knowledge she might need to a.s.sist in such a pregnancy and birth, if complications arose. To make it worse, they were in the middle of a siege, with dwindling supplies of food and fuel. Even if she and the child survived, she saw no way out of the tangle of political or social convolutions that would ensnare them-no way to stop reality from crus.h.i.+ng their fragile miracle.
13.
Cyber Slums.
The orbiter served as home to the powers of an interstellar empire.
Imperial s.p.a.ce Command had found the s.p.a.ce station adrift in s.p.a.ce, a dead relic from the Ruby Empire-or so it had appeared. Then the techs awoke it, reviving its ancient Lock, which could power a Kyle web. Centuries later, Kurj had named the station the ”Orbiter” because it orbited throughout the Imperialate, never staying in one place. He christened its idyllic city ”City” and he called the valley where he lived ”Valley.” The names made perfect sense to him, though they seemed to amuse his grandmother.
His grandfather understood.
ISC replaced most of the Orbiter's technology, but they left the Strategy Table. Modern engineers had yet to reproduce the transparent composite used in its construction. Lights glittered within its ma.s.sive top and blocky legs, illuminating the gold, copper, bra.s.s, silver, and platinum components, all visible like the mechanisms of a gleaming, antique clock.
Today, military personnel packed the Strategy Room, seated at the great oval table or standing by the metallic walls. Officers on other worlds attended as VR simulacra. All four branches of ISC were represented: the Imperial Fleet, Advance Services Corps, Pharaoh's Army, and J-Force.
The Fleet had originated in the navy on Raylicon, but now it dominated the ISC s.p.a.ce divisions. Banner Highchief commanded. When Kurj had first heard her name, he had gritted his teeth, imagining the atavistic culture that produced it. He had no romanticism for barbarism. He should have avoided a.s.sumptions, though; Highchief was a towering cyber-warrior from a high-tech culture. Hard but fair, she had a dry sense of humor he appreciated. Although in private she expressed doubts about the invasion, in the a.s.sembly she supported him.
The Advance Services Corps scouted planets. Kurj recalled how they had tried to recruit his father, Tokaba Ryestar, a civilian explorer. Tokaba had refused. When Kurj had been a small, laughing boy, Tokaba had often swung him around, saying he would much rather toss his golden child in the air than shoot people. Kurj didn't miss the irony: his father had declined to support ASC; now the ASC Commandant had voted against the invasion. Regardless, he treasured his memories of Tokaba. Recalling his father's love of peace was all that constrained his drive to obliterate the Traders, indeed, all that held his ambition for power in check.
Kurj himself headed the J-Forces, the fiercely independent pilots who faced the Traders one on one, without the mental static of crewed s.h.i.+ps to interfere with their mind-intensive operations. He had risen through the ranks, ruthless and driven to this command. Today he controlled one branch of the military; someday, as Imperator, he would control them all.
The Pharaoh's Army had existed for five millennia, during the Ruby Empire, through the dark ages when technology crashed, and now in the interstellar age. Vaj Majda commanded. As the Matriarch of Majda, she came from a long line of warrior queens. Tall and dark-eyed, with iron-gray hair and an aristocratic face, the forceful Majda-General of the Pharaoh's Army-had given Kurj his strongest support for the invasion.
Kurj considered the Majda. Even he had approved the a.s.sembly's choice of her nephew, Prince Dayj, as Roca's consort. The union would increase political stability, strengthen ties between Majda and the Ruby Dynasty, and enhance the prodigious wealth of their Houses. He suspected the a.s.sembly also hoped Roca would weaken his links to the militaristic side of Majda. He knew better, but he kept that to himself.
Personally, Kurj found his future stepfather insufferably arrogant. Dayj had, however, one exceedingly admirable quality; he obeyed the conservative traditions of his House-which meant he kept his mouth shut and stayed in seclusion on Raylicon. That made him perfect for Roca. As a Councilor, she couldn't live on Raylicon, so Dayj's presence would be nonexistent in her life.
A voice spoke on the comm in Kurj's ear. ”Primary Skolia, the First Councilor is on-line.”
Kurj subvocalized his response:Understood.Sensors in his throat interpreted and transmitted the answer to his ear comm.
The simulacrum of the First Councilor formed across the table, so lifelike he looked solid. Kurj added his voice to the murmur of acknowledgment. ”My honor at your presence, sir.”
The First Councilor nodded, his dark eyes scanning the room. As the elected leader of Skolia, he was the supreme commander of ISC, even over the Imperator. Kurj thought it an absurd division of power.
The Imperator should rule; without him, Skolia would fall to the Traders.
A woman's voice rang through the Strategy Room. ”Imperator Skolia.” The great platinum doors opened-and Jarac entered.
Kurj rose to his feet along with everyone else. Towering and ma.s.sive, Jarac strode to a heavy chair embedded in the far wall. As he sat down, techs fastened him into the cyber-throne, plugging its exoskeleton into his neck, spine, wrists, and ankles. It linked him to the War Room, giving him full access to any data needed by this council. He would become the focal point of the meeting, its central command unit. Its Key.
Kurj wondered how Jarac felt about the a.s.sembly overriding his vote against the invasion. Jarac had long supported the division of power that put the First Councilor over him, but Kurj thought it must bedevil him now, knowing that if he had full command, he could refuse to lead the invasion.
The woman spoke again: ”Her Highness, the Ruby Pharaoh.”
They all remained standing. The pharaoh's simulacrum formed at the head of the table, along with those of the officers who served as Operations, Communications, Plans, Intelligence, Logistics, and Security.
After she settled into her chair, everyone else also sat down.
So began the meeting to formalize their invasion.
Kurj had his recommendations ready: send in the J-Force first. The split-second response times and accelerations of s.p.a.ce warfare were beyond normal humans, but the Jagernaut-s.h.i.+p combination could handle them. Robot drones would fight most of the combat, but the creativity of human minds added an edge that could mean victory.
”Jagernauts can succeed where drones alone would fail,” Kurj told the a.s.sembled council. ”Both in s.p.a.ce and on-planet.”
Jarac's voice rumbled. ”Settled planets and habitats must remain untouched. I want no civilians hurt.”
Kurj gritted teeth. Certainly he intended to protect civilians. But Jarac insisted on too many limitations; it would curtail the ability of ISC to act as a coherent force. He didn't understand his grandfather. The Imperialate couldn't survive if it lost its technology, and for that they needed platinum. Without the Platinum Sectors, Skolia would fall. Kurj had won this time, on the invasion, but what about the next time? And the time after that?
The day would come when he had to challenge Jarac.
Submerged in the web, Kurj cloaked his ident.i.ty and became a dark, anonymous figure. His slum-spiders were following leads on systems buried so deep, he would have never found them with normal searchers. But he had designed these searchers himself, and they went where respectable spiders never ventured.
Kurj didn't like what he found.
He had uncovered nothing about ”Roca Skolia” since she vanished, but references to ”Cya Liessa”
abounded. In one cluttered info-shack he listened while two avatars ”appreciated” her dancing.
Never heard of ballet,one said.
Who cares what you call it?the other answered.Take her out of the f.u.c.king costume and ”dance” all night. Now THAT would be art.
Kurj sent a fire-pulse through the net and scorched the info-structure for their shack. It collapsed around them in a conflagration of error messages.
He followed another lead to an erotica site, where his mother topped the list offemale artists to see naked. He torched the list and made sure they couldn't rebuild their database there.