XXII: Leto’s Children

XXII
Leto’s Children

“Delos,” Jaibriol repeated, straining to keep his annoyance in check. “The Allied planet.” He was ready to throttle Barthol.

The general walked with him, nearly as tall as Jaibriol, but not quite. Jaibriol felt how much the comparison angered Barthol, that his bulky physique, despite its power, wasn’t perfect by Aristo standards, not quite broad enough in the shoulders or narrow enough in the hips. He had genetically sculpted his body to come as close to the Highton ideal as he could manage without compromising his health or longevity. It appalled Jaibriol, the extent to which his advisors were willing to go so they would all be the same, all seeking the same uncompromising standard of Highton perfection.

Regardless of what he thought of Barthol, the general did his job well. Jaibriol had no cause to replace him as a Joint Commander and what looked like every reason to keep him. Politically, removing Barthol would be dangerous; he was well liked among the army brass, not the least because he walked the edge between expected Highton behavior and breaking the rules in ways that Jaibriol suspected many of his top officers would like to do. Barthol’s ouster would set the army at odds with the palace. Jaibriol had worked for years to build his support within ESComm, and the peace treaty had alienated a good portion of his backing. He couldn’t risk losing any more.

Admiral Erix Muze, who was walking on Jaibriol’s other side, was easier to deal with. He had Barthol’s talent for military command, but without the general’s inhuman edge. The three of them were strolling through the palace gardens, accompanied by Jaibriol’s four bodyguards, dark monoliths with metallic minds. Jaibriol hadn’t included Tide; he needed to understand the Razer better before he relied on a man who had tried to defect.

Every time he saw Tide, he felt as if he were turning upside down. Tide was Hidaka, yet he would never be Hidaka. He had the same intense loyalty that in Hidaka had become an unswerving fidelity to the emperor. How it manifested in Tide, he didn’t know, for Tide’s life had taken a different path. He had never witnessed the emperor join the Triad, never protected Jaibriol by murdering a Highton colonel who witnessed the same, never lied about what he had seen, all to protect the emperor even though he had known—from the instant Jaibriol had dragged himself out of the Lock—that Jaibriol was a Ruby psion.

Tide had never died to save Jaibriol’s life and make the peace treaty a reality.

Jaibriol didn’t know what to expect from this Razer, a man he knew so well and yet not at all. So he had created a cover: Tide had been on assignment, spying on the Skolians, and ESComm had blown his cover when they raided the embassy. That story had the added benefit of allowing Jaibriol to disapprove of the raid, which had violated the Paris Accord and damaged their relations with the Imperialate, without appearing to side with the Skolians for harboring a defector. ESComm wasn’t happy with him for “neglecting” to notify them of the operation, but such covert dealings by the palace were classic Highton intrigue and surprised no one. In fact, Jaibriol had the impression Erix Muze enjoyed thinking the Skolians had been so well taken in by a false claim of defection.

For now, he had to concentrate on convincing his Joint Commanders that Delos was a good place for the summit. If they backed him, it would garner him the support he needed from his other advisors. At the moment, though, Barthol wouldn’t even acknowledge he knew Delos existed.

“For a name like Delos, I imagine some sort of germ,” Barthol was saying. “It might give one hives.”

Erix smiled, far more amused than Jaibriol by Barthol’s professed lack of knowledge. The admiral said, “I have heard that in the mythology of Earth’s ancient Greeks, the island of Delos is a sanctuary. They have a work called The Homeric Hymns, including passages about Apollo, a god in their pantheon. This quote is from his mother Leto:

“Delos, if you would be willing to be the abode of my son Phoebus Apollo and make him a rich temple—; for no other will touch you, as you will find: and I think you will never be rich in oxen and sheep, nor bear vintage nor yet produce plants abundantly. But if you have the temple of far-shooting Apollo, all men will bring you hecatombs and gather here, and incessant savour of rich sacrifice will always arise, and you will feed those who dwell in you from the hand of strangers; for truly your own soil is not rich.”

If Jaibriol hadn’t learned so well to control his expressions, he would have gaped at the admiral. He hadn’t expected poetry, of all things, from his literal minded military commander. As a statement supporting the choice of Delos for the summit, not only was Erix’s response unexpectedly eloquent, but the admiral had clearly taken some time looking into the world and its background. As much as Jaibriol often chafed at Highton discourse, at its best, it could be a thing of subtle beauty.

“Your knowledge of Earth poets is appreciated,” Jaibriol told him.

Barthol snorted. “It sounds to me like this Zeus fellow fucked the girl Leto, and she dropped his provider son on a barren island where nothing grows.”

And then, Jaibriol thought, there are other forms of Highton discourse.

Technically, Barthol hadn’t violated Highton principles, since he hadn’t directly addressed the topic of the summit, but he left no doubts as to his opinion of the Allieds and their worlds. Jaibriol was tired of sparring with him, particularly since Barthol obviously knew far more about Delos than he claimed. He just said, “Where would you have expected her to give birth?” If Barthol had a better idea where to put the summit, he sure as blazes hadn’t suggested it yet.

Barthol waved his hand as if to encompass the palace and all of Glory. “Mount Olympus.”

“I’m sure Zeus’s wife would have appreciated that,” Erix said dryly.

Security protocols activated, Jaibriol’s spinal node thought. It controlled his response, hiding his reaction, but nothing could stop his burst of fury. Tarquine had lost her child here in the place that Barthol—who might have been the assassin—so blithely titled Mt. Olympus, land of the Highton gods.

Stay calm, Jaibriol told himself. He wouldn’t play the twisted game of brutal discourse Barthol invited. If he let the general push him into responding with anger, he risked revealing too much. The moment he found proof that Barthol had murdered his son, the general would pay. All that stayed his hand now was the lack of evidence and Tarquine’s puzzling silence on the topic.

Jaibriol’s voice came out with a detachment far different from what he felt. “In the Greek tales, it profited Zeus that the woman Leto gave birth on Delos. It exalted that king of the gods to have the humans in his life positioned so he could control them without their knowledge.” Let Barthol figure that one out. He might even like what Jaibriol implied.

The idea had come to him after he decoded the last message from the Ruby Pharaoh. Verbally, she had said no more than a bland agreement that they should meet somewhere neutral. She and Kelric had disguised the Quis patterns in a detailed border that framed the Skolian insignia. An unusual touch for ISC, to put artwork in a communiqué, but exactly what Hightons expected.

Beautifully complex patterns saturated the Quis they had sent him. The message was clear: Pick a neutral place away from Earth and set it up so your people have an apparent advantage in security, maybe utilizing a secret they think we don’t know, say perhaps the use of Kyle space by ESComm. Make your advisors think it is a trick to dominate us. But leave a back door in Kyle space that we can use to ensure our safety. You—and only you among the Aristos—can do that. Give us that back door and we will accept your terms.

It didn’t surprise Jaibriol that they had figured out ESComm was using providers in Kyle space. As far as he knew, ESComm had accomplished little with their fledgling telops, but he suspected Barthol had attempted more in secret. Although Jaibriol had no evidence that the general had released “Carnelians Finale,” his instincts pointed to Barthol rather than Prince Del-Kurj as the culprit.

“Zeus didn’t go to Delos in this little tale of gods,” Barthol said.

It startled Jaibriol to realize how much had gone through his mind in the moments between his last comment and Barthol’s response. Since he had updated spinal nodes, his thoughts often jumped into an accelerated mode without his realizing it. He wondered who Barthol was comparing to Zeus: Jaibriol or himself?

“True,” Jaibriol said. “But then, Zeus didn’t have the advantage of Highton intelligence.”

Erix smiled slightly. “It’s amusing to think what he might have accomplished with the help of ESComm.”

Barthol gave a snort of laughter. “Greek God Space Command. How entertaining. Wouldn’t have worked, though. Zeus was too busy begetting whelps.”

Well, weren’t his Joint Commanders in a good mood today. Jaibriol eased his barriers. Through the painful haze of their Highton minds, he felt Barthol’s contempt. The Zeus jokes were stabs at Jaibriol for having no heir. The general loathed him even more now, since Jaibriol had interfered in his punishment of the taskmaker whose children Barthol had intended to sell. Jaibriol gritted his teeth and probed further, but if Barthol was responsible for the assassination attempt against him, it wasn’t in the general’s surface thoughts.

Jaibriol picked up more from Erix, perhaps because the admiral’s mind didn’t exert as much pressure. Erix was satisfied with the discussion about Delos and considered Jaibriol’s idea creative. He found Barthol amusing, edgy for a Highton, with an appreciated wit. It stuck in Jaibriol’s craw that people would find someone as morally bankrupt as Barthol entertaining, but at least he had Erix’s support on Delos.

He caught another thought from the admiral. Erix was grateful to him for dealing with the provider, saving the boy from execution. Gods. The seeds of a conscience were in there. Perhaps in a few decades, if Erix survived until his eighties, he would develop a moral code that Jaibriol understood, as had Tarquine and Corbal. How many more decades would it take to reach a stage where they might like each other? For that, he wanted to weep, that if he endured long enough, he might someday, in his second century of life, have a few friends. If he was even the same person by then. Surrounded by the Hightons every day of his life for so many years, he sometimes felt as if the universe had turned upside down, that he was the aberrant one and they the norm.

Pain spiked in Jaibriol’s temples and his vision blurred. To probe their minds more deeply would send him to the hospital. He pulled back, raising his barriers. He had to hold true to his ideals. He couldn’t lose sight of what his parents had taught him in the first fourteen years of his life, in that lost and dreamlike time before he had become Jaibriol the Third, emperor of Eube.

“Greek mythology has its intriguing side,” Jaibriol said. “I would like to discuss this more, what the gods might have done to remake Delos according to their wishes.”

“Indeed,” Erix said.

“Oh well, of course, Your Glorious Highness.” Barthol sounded bored.

Jaibriol gritted his teeth. Steeling himself, he lowered his shields and took one last look at Barthol’s mind. It was excruciating, made worse by his realization that the general was transcending from his discomfort. He found nothing new; Barthol loathed the entire concept of the summit and didn’t give a damn where it took place—

And then Jaibriol hit a secret worth more than a platinum mine.

Prince Del-Kurj.

The Kyle streamed past Dehya, a blue mist with sparks for the thoughts of people using the web. Kelric was working in tandem with her, using the Command Chair in the War Room while she used the one in the Triad Chamber. Eldrin had also joined them in Kyle space, accessing it as a telop rather than a Triad member, helping to serve as an anchor for Dehya. She knew what they feared, that she would otherwise fade away into Kyle space forever.

Now that she knew what to look for, the signs of Del’s supposed actions with “Carnelians Finale” were easier to find. She submerged into the deep grotto where Taquinil had discovered the security breach. She showed Kelric and Eldrin the rip in the mesh. They were able to hide this from our security because it’s been so long since ISC used this part of the mesh.

I didn’t even know this sector was still here, Kelric thought. I thought we had cleaned up all these old files.

The ISC network has evolved for centuries, Dehya thought. This section was deactivated a century ago, but it ended up buried under newer systems and was never fully dismantled.

Frustration tinged his usually stoic thoughts. It’s impossible to track it all, trillions of nodes, always changing. And that’s just the active mesh sections.

We do our best, Dehya thought. What matters is that we found the breach.

As did ESComm, Kelric growled.

Eldrin’s thought came to them with a sense of distance created by his less powerful telop chair. Are you sure it was ESComm that used this breach? As much as I hate to say it, someone in ISC would have better access to this area than ESComm.

Kelric’s mood darkened as if a shutter had closed. What you’re asking me to do is impossible. I cannot point to one of my top people as a traitor. Who? Naaj Majda? Ragnar Bloodmark? To accuse either, I would need iron-clad proof.

Why Naaj or Ragnar? Dehya asked, troubled that he picked the two officers she most trusted. Brant Tapperhaven has always been a maverick. You like him because he was a Jagernaut. You relate to him, that whole taciturn fighter pilot thing. But he’s the one most willing to break rules.

Oh, I don’t know, Eldrin said. Ragnar is a bloody asshole.

For flaming sake, Dehya thought, irked.

He interferes with our lives, Eldrin told her.

This isn’t the time, she thought. It has nothing to do with Ragnar as a military officer.

Are you sure? Kelric asked. You asked if my friendship with Brant affects my judgment. It’s a good question. You should ask the same about your friendships with Ragnar and Naaj.

That gave her pause. He had a point. Have you noticed, she thought, that every time we try to discuss this breach in the web, we end up arguing about something else?

Both Kelric and Eldrin were silent. Then Kelric thought, No.

Actually, she’s right, Eldrin said. It happens whenever she and I talk about this business with Del and “Carnelians Finale,” but only when we’re in Kyle space.

You think ESComm planted some sort of disruptive code that affects us when we broach the subject?

You know what? Dehya said. I think yes, that’s exactly what they did. This business with “Carnelians Finale” is subterfuge. Someone released the song twice, and the second time, they linked it to Del. Maybe they tried to link it both times, but they couldn’t manage at first because they didn’t know what they were doing. Just look at this breach. A rip? They didn’t even hide it. She couldn’t imagine Naaj, Ragnar, or Brant doing such sloppy work.

If ESComm is using untrained providers, Kelric thought, they probably knew they’d leave a trail. Maybe they booby-trapped the pathway to distract anyone who investigated.

It’s possible, Dehya thought. Now came the big lie, because they needed to convince Eldrin. We were caught in it because of our link to Del. When they tampered with him, a backlash hit us. That was the story they would spread, to draw attention from a more probable scenario, that the backlash came from an attempt against the life of the third Triad member.

It seems unlikely, Eldrin thought. If it were possible to affect the triad through Kyle space that way, nearly killing you and Kelric, they would have tried it before.

They have Althor’s daughter, Kelric answered. A Ruby psion. She might be able to cause such an effect.

Dehya’s relief vanished. Yes, the Traders had Aliana. ESComm had taken her into custody after Dehya and Kelric had nearly died, so she probably had nothing to do with what had happened to them. But the danger remained. Although ESComm couldn’t create their own web, they could steal web access and use Alaina’s power in Kyle space.

A metallic thought intruded on them: Communication incoming.

Identify yourself, Kelric thought.

Node IMIN: Imperial Intelligence A5a.mil.

IMIN, my staff can deal with messages, Kelric told it.

This one is from Comtrace, IMIN answered.

Kelric immediately thought. Transfer us to Comtrace.

A new thought formed, powerful and inhuman, coming from Comtrace, one of ISC’s most powerful Evolving Intelligences. TRANSFER COMPLETE.

What is the message? Kelric asked.

IT COMES FROM THE PALACE ON GLORY, Comtrace said.

Has it cleared the protocols yet?

IT IS IN PROCESS. I CAN SPEED ITS PROGRESS, IF THE PHARAOH WISHES.

Yes, do that, Dehya said.

It was time to find out Jaibriol’s next move in their interstellar game of Quis.

Aliana curled closer to Red under the velvety covers. He murmured in his sleep and pulled her into his arms. So strange, to have someone share her bed. Who would have thought it could be so nice.

Red laughed drowsily. “Most of human race likes it.”

“I can see why.” She had never trusted anyone enough to hold him at night or wake up with him in the morning. Given how fast night came and went on Glory, with its sixteen-hour day, she and Red had done a lot of that recently. They couldn’t leave this suite where the emperor’s guards had put them, but far worse fates existed than living in this gorgeous place with Red.

“All Aristo live this way,” Red said.

“It isn’t fair that so few of them get so much while the rest of us have so little.”

“They Aristos,” he said matter-of-factly. “We nothing.”

“I suppose.” She tickled him under the arm. “You definitely feel like something.”

“Ai! Stop!” Red burst out laughing and grabbed her hands.

“You seem happy,” Aliana said. “I never heard you laugh before we came here.”

His smile faded. “Never have reason to laugh. Just cry.”

“I don’t understand how anyone could hurt you that way. They’re monsters.”

She expected some platitude about Aristos being exalted, but instead he said, “Emperor Jaibriol is different. I not feel his mind.”

“Red, he’s the emperor. I doubt his brain is empty.”

“I mean he different from other Hightons.”

“I was too busy being intimidated to think about it,” she admitted. “But you’re right, being around him doesn’t hurt. I think he’s like us. His mind, I mean.”

Red gave a surprisingly harsh laugh. “He Highton. Not like us. Never like us.”

“Well, I think he is,” she said, feeling stubborn.

“No Highton is ever provider.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes. You did.”

“He’s left us alone. That’s what matters.” They had seen no one but the servers who brought them wonderfully sumptuous meals. The closets here were full of clothes and the cupboards full of anything else they could want. It was merciful respite. She didn’t know if executioners would come for Red in five minutes, tomorrow, five years, or never. It turned this refuge into a bittersweet dream, a tenuous interlude caught inside a bubble that might disappear any moment.

Red stroked her hair. “Definitely alone.”

She smiled and tickled him more, making him laugh, and then they were kissing. They played for a while, rolling in the silken sheets, teasing and caressing. Loving. Eventually, when they had worn each other out, they drifted back to sleep.

A hum came from across the room.

She lifted her head. “What was that?”

“Someone outside,” Red mumbled.

Aliana pulled on the soft blue robe she had thrown on top of the covers and slipped out of bed. She padded across the room to the wall with the entrance panel. Hesitating, she peered at its glowing buttons. Finally she said, “Greetings?”

A familiar voice came out of the air. “Zina, let me in.”

“Tide? Is that you?”

“Yes.” Even with a mechanical cadence, his voice had a distinctive sound.

She grinned. “Come in!”

“You have to open the door.”

“Oh!” She paused. “How do I do that?”

“Give it permission.”

“Um, sure, I mean, yes, door, you can open.”

The wall shimmered, a pearly light in the dark room, then faded, leaving an open archway with Tide in it, a looming man in black trousers and tunic, with heavy boots that came to his knees and a gun holstered on his hip. Aliana had been ready to throw her arms around him, but now she held back, confused. He didn’t look like Tide. He was a Razer.

He walked into the room. As the wall solidified, he said, “Can we turn on the lumos?”

“Oh. Sure.” She hesitated, uncertain what to do. She tried, “Lumos on. Not bright.”

The light came up, diffuse and soft.

“Aliana?” Red was coming across the room, dressed in a dark gold robe.

“For flaming sake,” Tide said. “They put the two of you in here together?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Aliana asked.

“You’re children,” he growled.

Aliana glared at him, forgetting she was intimidated. “I am not a child.”

Red came to stand at her side and smiled disarmingly. “Am glad to see you, Tide.”

The Razer exhaled as if his anger were leaking out a hole Red had poked in the balloon of his ire. “Thank you.” Then he added, “But you can’t call me Tide.”

Aliana bit back her rebellious response. Blasting the Aristos for denying Tide his name after the emperor had given him back his life would be stupid. Besides, something else was going on with him, she didn’t know what. Something about Red hurt him. Aliana wanted to ask why, but she knew Tide wouldn’t tell her, especially not in front of Red.

“You two better be taking precautions,” Tide said.

“I won’t get pregnant, if that’s what you mean,” she said. This suite had everything they needed. Feeling clumsy, she said, “We’re good together. Really.” She took Red’s hand. “It’s nice.”

Tide smiled then, though he seemed sad. “After everything you two have been through, you deserve happiness. If you can give that to each other, I’m happy for you.”

Aliana felt her face heating. This was all too much personal talk. Besides, she was worried about Tide. “Are you supposed to be here? The emperor said we can’t see anyone.”

“I’m assigned as the escort for both of you,” Tide said. “We’re leaving the planet at dawn.”

“Leaving? For where?” she asked.

“What His Highness told you. To Delos.”

Her voice trembled. “I can’t do that.”

Tide’s voice gentled in a way she was certain no other Razer would let happen. “I’m sorry. But you have no choice.”

“I’m afraid,” she said. Red squeezed her hand.

“I’ll look out for you both.” Tide raked his hand through his newly cropped dark hair. “None of this makes sense. I tried to defect, for gods sake. So the emperor tells everyone I was on a spy mission and puts me on his personal bodyguard. Don’t get me wrong; I can’t begin to say how grateful I am. But it’s crazy. I don’t understand.”

“You look like his other bodyguard,” Red said.

Aliana blinked. “What other bodyguard?”

Red glanced at her. “Razer who save emperor’s life on Earth.”

“How do you know that?” Tide asked.

“Emperor say so.” Red answered. “He tell you.”

“You weren’t there,” Tide said. “So how would you know?”

Red hesitated, looking uncertain. “I’m not sure. From his mind, I think.”

“I’m picking up his mind, too,” Aliana said. “Like words I’ve never heard before, but suddenly I know what they mean.”

“Don’t say that.” Tide lowered his voice. “You can’t talk that way, either of you. Stay behind your mental walls or whatever you’re doing to hide. You’re going to be on a ship packed full of Aristos.”

Red’s face paled. “I not go.”

“You have to go,” Tide said.

“No!”

“Red, listen,” Aliana said. “They don’t know we’re psions. They won’t make us providers.”

He shook his head with a sharp motion. “They know I am provider.”

“But you don’t work anymore,” she said. “So they aren’t interested.”

“They think neither of you have any Kyle ability,” Tide told them. “Eventually they’ll test you, but for now you’re safe.” He considered Aliana. “The problem is, you look like a provider, at least your coloring.” When she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of that, he held up his hand. “Don’t get mad at me. I can’t help the way you look. But listen, don’t worry.”

“Why not?” she growled.

“They’re going to disguise you.”

“Why? I don’t want a disguise.”

Tide lifted his hands. “I don’t know why. One never questions Hightons.”

“Why not?” Aliana asked crossly.

“Because no one is paying attention to you two right now,” Tide said. “Not with everything else that is going on. You want it to stay that way.”

“All they think about is Delos summit,” Red said.

“That’s putting it mildly.” Tide grimaced. “It’s all going to hell. Everything was already a mess, and now some Allied group has kidnapped that damn Skolian prince and worked everyone up, just when the furor was dying down. I can’t believe anyone thinks this summit will achieve anything but disaster.”

“What prince?” Aliana asked.

“Angry singer,” Red said. “The one with the mad song.”

“Oh, him.” Aliana wasn’t surprised someone had grabbed him. He had certainly caused a lot of trouble.

Red frowned at her. “Zina, how you know he do anything? You think ‘He make trouble.’ Everyone thinks that. But maybe it’s not him.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t really have any ill wishes for the singer.

Tide looked from Aliana to Red. “Was that just a figure of speech?” he asked Red. “Or were you really responding to what she was thinking?”

“Not speech figure,” Red said. “It was what she think.”

“No!” Aliana said, remembering Lensmark had told her to protect Red. “He says that all the time,” she told Tide quickly. “He doesn’t really mean he knows what I think.”

“Yes, I do,” Red said.

“No you don’t!” She sent him a fierce look.

Tide was watching them as if he were seeing an avalanche crashing down. “Is that the best you two can do to hide that you’re still psions?”

Aliana tried to sound nonchalant. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Gods,” he muttered. “On the trip to Delos, I want you both to stay away from everyone. Stay in your cabin. Don’t interact with anyone if you can help it.” With difficulty, he added, “Keep each other company, if that’s what it takes to hide you.”

There it was again, his pain. Aliana wished she understood what hurt him. He had his life back now, even better than before. Why would she and Red matter? They were nobody.

“He already say why,” Red told her. “You child. Off-limits. To him.”

Tide’s forehead creased. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Aliana said, flustered. She had no idea what Red meant, either. Too much was happening too fast. “This summit can’t be safe.”

“It’s all confused.” Tide paced away like a boxer full of agitated energy. “The Skolians claim Prince Del-Kurj didn’t release that song and their military didn’t attack our merchants, that these are set-ups by people trying to disrupt the peace process.” He turned and came back to them. “The Allied Worlds of Earth claim these Minutemen have nothing to do with them. ESComm says it’s all nonsense, that the Allieds and Skolians are in collusion.”

Red squinted at them. “Why they bother to have summit?”

“Gods only know,” Tide said wryly. “Hell, maybe even they have no idea.”

“Why does the emperor want Red and me?” Aliana asked. “We can’t help.”

Tide spread his arms out from his body. “Truthfully, I’ve no idea.”

Neither did Aliana. But they might soon find out, if they were leaving at dawn.

Their respite here was coming to an end.