Schism: Part One of Triad (26 page)

“You look tired,” she said.

“I’m all right.”

“It’s the air here,” Soz grumbled. “Not enough oxygen.”

“It doesn’t bother me much anymore.”

“I guess I’ll get used to it.” She motioned at her legs. “They hurt. I don’t know why. I’ve never had any problem before.”

He leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Probably the different gravity.”

“It’s lighter. That should make things easier.”

“Your body still has to adjust.” His forehead furrowed. “That’s an odd coincidence, though. I’ve been having nightmares that my legs are broken.”

Soz regarded him uneasily. “A while back, I collapsed on the trail. Something felt really wrong. I thought you might have been hurt, except you said you were fine.”

Althor’s grin flashed. “Thinking about me knocked you out. Admit it, Soz.”

She snorted. “Pah.”

He gestured at her holobook. “What is it you were pretending to study while you were daydreaming?”

“I was not daydreaming.” Soz glowered at him. “I was contemplating life.”

He laughed, a throaty, full sound. “I hope life comes out of that all right.”

Soz couldn’t help but smile. She flicked her finger through a holicon on her holobook. Chemical formulas formed in the air. “It’s for my chemistry class.

Boring, boring, boring.”

“You don’t like chemistry?”

“I like it fine. I just know if already.” She snapped her fingers through the holicon and the chemicals disappeared. “I asked if I could take the final tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Althor stared at her. ‘That chemistry class is a second-year course. How can you be taking the final less man a month into your first term of your first year?”

“The brass put me in there.” She rubbed the back of her neck, working at the stiff muscles. “I just do what they say and go to class. Most of the courses are boring. My instructors already let me test out of Biomech and Neural Science.”

He looked alarmed. “Novices don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because those classes are killers.”

“Yeah, right.”

Exasperation flashed across his face. “Would you please slow down? The rest of us can’t keep up.”

Soz smiled. “I thought I daydreamed too much.”

“That, too.” When she laughed, he settled back, relaxing.

“So what are you taking instead of Biomech and Neural Science?”

Soz actually wasn’t sure. So far the “class” had been odd. They sat around and made up scenarios for Trader attacks and then countered them. It fascinated her, but she had seen no texts or syllabus. “Just something called Military Science.”

Althor blinked. “They put you in a think tank?”

She wiggled her fingers at him as if she were casting a spell. “We do virtual reality simulations where the Traders are winning and then we figure out how to hex their ships.”

He was no longer smiling. “Soz, listen to me. Most cadets never see those classes. Only the best upperclass cadets, the ones ISC expects to become leaders. Those aren’t games you’re playing.”

Soz shifted her weight. “Some of the scenarios are wild. I’ll tell you about them sometime.”

“You can’t. You must know those classes are secured.”

“Well, yes. But you’re my brother. An Imperial Heir.”

“It doesn’t make one bit of difference.” He spoke quietly. “Just because you’re smarter, tougher, and better connected than most everyone else here, mat doesn’t mean the rules apply any less to you than to everyone else.”

“I know that.”

“Maybe if you knew it better, you would get fewer demerits.”

Well, hell. How did he know about the demerits? She got them all the time, try as she would to follow regulations. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” He cocked his eyebrow at her. “You don’t have more demerits than any other student in your class.”

“How would you know if I did?”

“I talk to people.”

“Too much.” She crossed her arms, trying to be forebid-ding. The effect was marred when it knocked her holobook off her lap and she had to grab for it.

“Heya, Soz,” a cheerful voice said. “Throwing tilings?”

Flustered, Soz looked up to see Grell, her roommate, coming around Althor’s chair. Grell glanced idly at Althor,

then did a double take and froze. “Sir!” Grell saluted, her arms out and crossed at the wrists, her fists clenched.

“You don’t have to salute me here,” Althor said mildly. “The library is a free zone.”

Grell lowered her arms. “Sir! I’m sorry, sir.”

“Oh for flaming sakes,” Soz said. “He’s just my brother Althor. Sit down, Grell.” DMA regulations required novices to salute upperclass cadets, but the instructors had ruled libraries exempt after juniors and seniors began using the rules to bedevil novices, making it impossible for the younger students to study.

Grell sat down. “My apologies, sir.”

Althor smiled at her. “It’s no problem.”

Grell blushed and averted her gaze. Soz wasn’t sure what flustered her roommate—Althor’s upperclass status, his sinfully good looks, or his resemblance to Kurj. She scowled at him just for good measure, but he only grinned.

“How do you like DMA?” he asked Grell.

She looked up. “It is an honor to be here, Your Highness.”

Soz inwardly groaned. It had taken days to convince her roommates to treat her like a normal human. Living together helped; the glamour fast disappeared when you woke up every morning with bleary eyes just like everyone else or stumbled in covered with sweat after a workout. But here was Grell treating Althor like some glorious prince of the empire. He was, actually, but that made it no less irksome.

Althor smirked at Soz. “You know, contrary to your opinion of brothers as a lesser life-form, we’re actually human.”

Soz reddened. “I never said lesser.”

Grell was watching them, intrigued now. She motioned at the four gold bars on Althor’s shoulders. “So you’re a senior?”

He turned the full force of his dazzling grin on her. “For you, I’ll be anything.”

Grell blushed, and this time Soz did groan. Mercifully, Althor just grinned.

As the three of them talked, Grell relaxed, and Althor soon had her laughing. Soz said very little. She was growing angry, but she didn’t want to ruin their good time.

Finally she stood up. “I better go. I’ll see you around.”

“It’s still early.” Grell sounded disappointed.

“I have droid duty.” Soz winced. A pox on whoever dreamed up the concept. They weren’t even real droids. She had to clean the mechbots that tended the academy grounds. By the time she finished her shift tonight, she would be covered in oil and dirt, and exhausted, but she would still have to finish her chemistry, since she had spent her free time daydreaming.

Althor looked amused. “Lovely job.”

Soz gave him a quelling look. “It isn’t funny.”

He didn’t look the least quelled. “Just how many demerits do you have?”

Soz picked up her flat-pack, stuffed in her holobook, sealed up the pack with far more force man she needed, and slung it over her shoulder. To Grell, she said, “See you tonight.” Then she stalked off. She knew she shouldn’t treat them this way, but anger drove her away.

She had almost reached the library entrance when Althor caught up with her.

“Soz, wait.” He put his hand on her arm and pulled her to a stop. “What’s wrong?”

Too furious to answer, she just shook her head.

He drew her into a secluded alcove behind several shelves of books. “Why are you angry at me?”

“You were flirting with my roommate.”

“So?”

“It’s fraternization.”

“What fraternization?”

Her anger surged. “You can’t date her, Althor.”

“For flaming sakes, we were just talking.”

“You’re both cadets.”

“I won’t be for much longer.”

Soz clenched her fists. “Grell is my friend. She doesn’t deserve for you to lead her on.”

“What makes you think I was leading her on?”

“Oh, come on, Althor. You aren’t interested in her. Not the way she thinks.”

His expression tightened. “How the blazes would you know what interests me?”

“You going to ruin some woman’s life by marrying her, is that it?” Her voice grated. “Condemn her to a life of disappointment just so our father will let you come home?”

His posture went rigid. “It’s none of your business.”

“No, none of my business.” She lowered her voice. “It’s none of my business that Kurj treats me like a smart-mouthed, cocky cadet he has to cut down to size when I’m the best damn novice here. It’s none of my business that I can’t seem to prove him wrong, because maybe I am a damn smart-mouthed, cocky cadet.

It’s none of my business that we talk for hours in that think tank about invasion, and that under their veneer, our instructors are scared to death those scenarios will come true.” Her voice cracked. “One of these days I’ll go out and fight Aristos, defend my people, my family, maybe even lose my life, and damnit, my own father won’t even answer my letters.”

Althor exhaled. He said, simply, “Yes.”

Her anger fizzled. “Why am I mad at you? You did nothing wrong. You never do. You’re perfect. The golden boy, literally. Except you gave Father a little shock.” She spoke tiredly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should try to be what he wants. I hurt him so much. I hate knowing that. What does it mean to defend those we love if we lose their love in the process?”

Althor laid his hand on her shoulder. “He never stopped loving us. That’s why he’s so upset. He doesn’t want us to give our lives in combat, especially in a war he can’t understand.”

She rubbed the tears gathering in her eyes. Had it been anyone except Althor, she would have left then, unable to let her vulnerability show. He more than anyone understood the pressure of being Kurj’s heir. But how could they talk when that pressure created a barrier between them, the knowledge that Kurj would choose only one as his successor? He set brother against sister, and it created a rift she didn’t know how to bridge. They could no longer trust each other with

their concerns, lest it tempt one to use that knowledge against the other in this forced rivalry.

A thought came to Soz, one she hated but couldn’t deny. Kurj had assumed the title of Imperator through the death of their grandfather, Jarac, the previous Imperator. Had Kurj set her and Althor against each other because he feared they would otherwise turn against him, coveting his power? Jarac had died when Kurj joined him and the Ruby Pharaoh in the Dyad that powered the Kyle web.

Kurj had made the Dyad a Triad.

The Kyle web existed in Kyle space, a universe outside of spacetime. Any strong psion could access the web, but only the Rhon could power it Without the web, ISC would lose the communications that tied the military together as an interstellar force and Skolia as a civilization. Without the Dyad, there was no web, and without me Ruby Dynasty there was no Dyad.

The Dyad consisted of two Keys—two Rhon psions: Kurj, the Imperator, and Dyhianna, the Ruby Pharaoh. The Dyad before them had been Soz’s grandparents, the previous Ruby Pharaoh and Imperator. When Kurj joined them, the power had surged catastrophically. Unable to support three such incredible minds, the link had overloaded and destroyed Jarac. In trying to create a Triad, Kurj had instead killed his predecessor and taken his title.

Lahaylia had died several years later of old age, after a life of several centuries. That left Kurj as one of the most powerful human beings alive, perhaps even more so than the elected leader of Skolia, Lyra Meson, the First Councilor of the Assembly. He commanded the Imperialate military, a war machine with no match except ESComm, the Trader military.

Someday that would all go to either Althor or Soz.

Now Soz found herself staring at Althor, the brother she loved as much today as in their childhood. A wall had come between them. By making them vie for the tide of Imperial Heir, Kurj made them into rivals. He had to know they would become warier of each other as the years passed and the stakes rose for the power they had to gain, until someday they might have nothing left but distrust for each other.

Tonight, she and Althor each went their way for the evening, the raveling bond of their kinship repaired for now. But Soz feared Kurj would never choose an Imperial heir, mat he would wait for them to make the choice for him. He was wrong if he expected one of them to assassinate the other; she could never harm her own kin. But the war might do it for diem. Nothing would remove mis wall between them except death itself.

Roca sat at the long table in the breakfast room, her arms crossed on the table, her body slumped, her head hanging down. Footsteps crossed me room, but she was too exhausted to move.

“Councilor?” The voice came at her side.

Roca lifted her head. Brad was standing next to her, dressed in dark trousers and an old sweater, his salt-and-pepper hair curled tightly against his scalp, his dark skin wan with fatigue.

“Is it dawn yet?” she asked. Her words sounded as heavy as she felt. So tired.

So very tired.

He nodded, sitting next to her. “Del and Chaniece are loading the flyer with supplies for our search today. The shuttles have already left.”

“They have to be out there,” she whispered. She fumbled for a blueglass tumbler on the table.

Brad poured her a glass of water. “We’ll find them. I swear it.” His voice rasped, though with fatigue or apprehension, she couldn’t tell. Bom, she thought. Brad and Eldrinson had been friends for over thirty years.

Roca drank deeply, her arms shaking. She held the glass with bom hands to keep from splashing out water. In the past fifteen days, since Eldri’s disappearance, she hadn’t slept a single night all the way through. She paced the castle wall outside for hours, trying to reach her husband with her thoughts, unable to penetrate the static in his mind. He was in pain, terrible pain, but they couldn’t find him, neither she nor Brad nor the children nor the entire damned orbital system. How could ISC

have such formidable defenses around this planet and be unable to locate one man and one boy?