Ascendant Sun: A New Novel in the Saga of the Skolian Empire (22 page)

The SSRB glittered in space like a cluster of jeweled necklaces linked with sparkling chains. As the supply ship drew nearer, the base took on a less benign aspect, resolving into ponderous habitats bristling with antennae, support structures, and weapons ports. Far from any star, the complex created its own system of orbiting bodies.
Kelric floated at the porthole in the cargo bay where the crew had "stored" him. His delivery from Shuttle Four had gone without remark by the taskmaker crew here. The orders to take a provider to a Sphinx Sector Aristos surprised no one.
He had helped Shuttle Four to prepare his false ID. Without his aid, the EI couldn't have convinced anyone. It had no capacity for intrigue. He had it list him as a natural-born Eubian provider. That way, everyone would assume Aristos had bred him to behave like a provider. The invoice described him as an anonymous gift to the wife of an Admiral Kaliga. He would have preferred a solitary Aristo, but the shuttle had too little data on the SSRB. At least with Kaliga, they knew enough to be reasonably certain they could schedule Kelric's arrival when neither the admiral nor his wife was home.
Here on the supply ship, the crew outfitted a cargo bay for him, with a waste unit and mesh hammock. The small ship didn't rotate, so he spent his time floating around the bay, doing free-fall exercises. The verdict on his paralysis had been a little better than expected. He could move without hydraulics. In gravity, he walked with a dragging gait, his limp so pronounced he often stumbled. With the hydraulics, though, he now had enough control to make his motions appear normal rather than unnaturally smooth.
When he interacted with people, he used hydraulics. By himself, he exercised without them as much as possible, prodding his muscles and nervous system to recover. In the day it took for the ship to reach the SSRB and go though security, he noticed a slight improvement, nothing dramatic, but still a positive sign.
They docked at a space wheel that served as a maintenance and residential habitat. He had hoped the supply ship might be lax with security, but they gave him their full attention. The cargo master escorted him through decon with the rest of the small crew.
No one spoke to Kelric. They avoided his gaze. Only the captain acknowledged his presence, with an appraising stare that made the hairs on Kelric's neck stand up. The captain's ruby eyes marked him as the son of an Aristo and a provider. Kyle genes were recessive and Aristo genes dominant, so such children showed Aristo traits and usually found themselves on top of the taskmaker hierarchies.
A spoke elevator took them from the wheel's hub out to its rim. When they reached the terminal at the end of the spoke, an ESComm lieutenant met them. He escorted Kelric to a magcar and put him in the back, then took his place in the front.
As they rode along the magrail, Kelric gazed out the circular window at the rimwheel village. It existed inside the rim of the wheel, which was shaped like a gigantic tire. The tire's outer edge served as the ground and its inner edge made a "roof" far overhead. The magrail ran along the tire like a slender stripe around its circumference. In the distance, far ahead of the car, ground and roof both curved upward.
They traveled through a residential area. Landscaped parks dotted with flowers surrounded them. Rivers meandered past velvety lawns. The parks stretched the width of the rim, several hundred meters, then sloped up into terraced hills on either side. Droop-willows shaded airy houses on the terraces. He found it hard to believe this was in the heart of a military complex. It never ceased to boggle him that Aristos created such beauty.
They soon turned off the main rail and climbed into the terraced slopes. The car stopped in a grove of willows. Lacy branches shaded a house made from rose and ivory woods that must have cost a fortune on a habitat, where organic growth was carefully monitored.
The lieutenant ushered Kelric inside. The house was a graceful sculpture of airy halls and open skylights, with sliding screens for walls. All the rooms, halls, and windows were curved or else had seven sides. Breezes moved freely through the building. Kelric suspected it never rained.
The lieutenant took him to a heptagonal room with no furniture, just piles of white rugs and pillows in rose hues. The ivory wall screens were so thin that sunlight diffused through them. In terse Highton, the lieutenant gave orders: remain here, make no noise, disturb no one. Then he left.
Alone, Kelric went to the far wall and pushed aside the screen. It opened onto a garden with well-tended flower beds and lawns. A gazebo sat prettily under the willows.
I am a right angle,
he thought. Then he left the house.

Kelric stood on a bridge that crossed a stream in the public parks. Flowering vines curled around the rail under his hands and draped the sides of the graceful arch. The parks basked in manufactured sunshine from overhead panels. If this habitat was like others he knew, at night the light panels would slide back, uncovering dichromesh windows that let starlight sift into the parks.
Well-dressed taskmakers strolled in the gardens, relaxed on benches, or gathered under trees. A young couple with a baby settled on a lawn and spread out a picnic. It looked idyllic. Only the collars and guards these people wore gave hint of the truth, that they were slaves.
He saw no Aristos. It didn't surprise him, given that only a few thousand existed. These taskmakers were high in the slave hierarchies and had some authority themselves. They would never risk losing their favored lives to disobedience. With one word from their Aristo owner, that happy couple could lose their child, each other, everything they valued. If they behaved, they kept their idyll. No wonder the Trader empire thrived. Aristos had everything they needed: wealth, power, military might, resources, and a trillion-strong populace they bred, pampered, indoctrinated, bribed, drugged, brainwashed, punished, and genetically tinkered into subservience.
In his exploration of the parks, he had come across only one other provider. She kept her eyes downcast, much as he had during his escape from Tarquine's ship, trying to become invisible. She sought a different sort of escape, a retreat into her mind. It was her refuge.
She had no mental defenses. Her high Kyle rating and open mind made it easy to absorb a general sense of her thoughts. She was on an errand for her owner and would meet him later for his pleasure. She had no hope of freedom. Kelric didn't think she even understood the idea. The three providers on Tarquine's ship had been the same. His inability to help them made him grit his teeth until his jaw ached.
His escape had been unique. Tarquine's security had done its job, judging his behavior out of bounds and notifying the Minister. Her long separation from her pager had helped him, due to the strange broadcast, which he still didn't understand. Even that wouldn't have made a difference if he had been less than Rhon. In fact, being Rhon would have done no good without his also having the background to hack secured EIs. And he had been desperate. Willing to die. He probably would have died if not for the medical cycles in his body. Those were possible only because his internal reactor supplied energy for reactions. Anything less than those factors combined and his escape would have failed.
It couldn't be repeated. He couldn't shove his mind into an EI again and survive. Besides, Shuttle Four had shut down the cycles in his body before it transferred him to the supply ship.
Now what? He had to make his move soon: it wouldn't take long for someone to discover he was Minister Iquar's slave. Somehow he had to leave this habitat and go to the Third Lock, a space station in its own right. His best bet to find transportation was the hub, where most ships docked. To reach it, he had to pass the elevator's warning system. If he did anything out of bounds, it would notify his new owner, Xirene Kaliga.
The light panels were dimming overhead, turning a rosy sunset hue. According to the lieutenant, Xirene and her husband were due back this evening. He either had to escape now or return to the house. The station's monitors had left notification of his arrival at the house and would have recorded his stroll through the parks, so his owners could find him right away if he didn't return.
He wanted to leave. Now. But he knew too little about the habitat. If he bided his time and used his judgment, his chance of success increased— to a point. Too long here, and he would be discovered. Also, if went back to the house he would have to spend the night with his new owner. Gods only knew what she would want from him. But if he let his aversion to Aristos force his hand, his haste might ruin his chances.
Kelric made his decision.

He was dozing in a pile of cushions when the apparition showed up in his room. Like all Aristos, she had classic features. Rubies studded the shimmering hair pulled up on her head. She had a youthful face, almost a child really, with round cheeks and a small nose. The translucent drapes of her white robe revealed enough to suggest a figure more voluptuous than normal for a Highton.
She stopped in the doorway, hands planted on either side of the frame, and cried, "Oh, surely this couldn't be!" Clasping her hands in front of her curvaceous bosom, she moaned, "I knew it.
I knew it!
Oh, how could I have come to this?"
Still groggy from sleep, Kelric sat up and pushed the curls out of his eyes. It was dark outside, but a lamp in one corner shed muted radiance over the room.
He felt her mind. She created that same mental abyss as a grown Aristo. With her, though, it was chaotic. He had heard Aristos didn't transcend until puberty, but he had never met one this young before. Her mind searched for his with an unformed quality rather than an adult's honed instincts. It shifted and flowed, never giving him anything definite to defend against. If in Tarquine he had seen the end of transcendence, in this girl he saw its emergence.
Aside from her attributes as an Aristo, she had some other rather odd personality traits.
"I
can't
believe it," she exclaimed, throwing her hands wide. "Why?
Why?
What have I ever done to deserve this?"
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
She glowered at him. "How can you act so normal when my world is ending?"
Kelric blinked. "I didn't realize."
"You didn't
realize
?" She came over, standing at her full height, which wasn't much. "Kneel to me, slave," she intoned in a dramatic voice.
"I already am," he pointed out.
"Well, yes, I suppose, in a way." She dropped to her knees and peered at him. "Your face bedevils me."
He pressed his fingers against his temple, trying to subdue his growing headache. "I'm sorry it upsets you."
"Did I say it upset me? I most certainly did not." She sighed. "You providers are
soooo
sensitive. But don't worry. I can read you poetry or something. Would that keep you happy? Or I could punish you. That would make me happy."
I don't believe this,
Kelric thought. "I'd rather you didn't."
"Hah!" She clasped her hands in front of her heart. "My life is over and all you can think about is your own comfort."
He wondered if he had stepped into a hallucination. "Why is your life over?"
"You have to ask? There you are, sitting like some vision out of an erotic holovid, and you have to ask? I knew it. The moment I saw you,
I knew it.
"
Kelric tried to think of a way to make her say something coherent. "All I know is that I'm a gift for you."
"Well, of course." She beamed at him. "What more could you ask than to be my provider?" Sitting back, she pouted. "He thinks giving me presents will make everything all right. Well, he's wrong."
It was beginning to make sense. "Do you mean your husband? Admiral Kaliga?"
"Of course." She leaned forward again. "We were married two months ago. He and my parents had an agreement, you see, because
they
wanted our Houses to join. Not that anyone asked
me.
Well, you wouldn't understand, it's all very complicated, this business of marriage. Anyway, you see, when I was born, they betrothed me to him, even though he was already
old
then, over
fifty.
" She paused for breath, then plowed onward. "He's a terrible husband. Do you know, I was talking to him this morning and he— I still can't
believe this
— he told me to
be quiet.
Can you believe it? I can't believe it. I know why he got you for me. He's going to
send me away.
He thinks this will make me agree, you being so beautiful and all, but I
will not
be humiliated." She threw her arms wide, as if to address the universe. "Do you hear me! I WILL NOT be humiliated."
For the first time in his life Kelric felt pity for an Aristo.
Poor man.
Then again, he deserved it, if he was an ESComm admiral.
"Why do you look so dour?" she asked. Glowering, she added, "And why are you wearing clothes?"
"Most people do," he said.
"Take them off."
He flushed. "What?"
She made an exasperated noise. "You're a sex slave, aren't you? So take them off."
"For crying out loud," Kelric said. "You're a married woman. Suppose your husband walks in?"
"So?"
"So? That's it?"
"Why would he care?"
"You're his
wife.
"
"He bought you for me." She waved her hand. "Hightons always buy their spouses slaves. Why should he be different? It isn't like you're a person or anything. If he ever caught me with another Aristo, well, that would be different. He would have me executed."
"Xirene?" The deep voice came from the entrance. "What are you talking about?"
Kelric looked up. The man standing in the doorway had to be Xirad Kaliga. He wore the black uniform of an ESComm officer with an admiral's red braid. Unlike Xirene's chaotic mind, his was razor-sharp, honed to a piercing edge.
"Xiri!" She scrambled to her feet and ran to him. Throwing her hand over her heart, she spoke in an impassioned voice. "Why, Xiri?
Why?
Do I make you so unhappy?"
The admiral rubbed his eyes. "What is it now, Xirene?"
"I won't go away. You can't do this to me."
He lowered his arm. "Do what?"
She paused, apparently nonplussed by his reaction. "Isn't that why you bought me the provider? So I wouldn't complain as much when you sent me away?"
"I'm not sending you away." The admiral took her hands. "Why would I do such a thing?"
I can think of a lot of reasons, Kelric thought. And I've only known her for a few minutes.
Xirene pouted. "You are always upset with me, love."
"I'm not upset with you."
"You ignore me," she stated. With a flourish, she withdrew her hands from his.
Tiredly he said, "Xirene, I don't even remember ordering this provider. I will check with my steward tomorrow. But I've no intention of sending you anywhere."
"Oh." A smile broke out on her face. "I'm so glad to hear that. I don't want to go away. I really do like you, you know."
The admiral drew his wife into his arms and tilted her face up to his. Pointedly ignoring Kelric, he kissed her for a long time, which as far as Kelric was concerned kept her mercifully quiet.
Finally Kaliga raised his head. He glanced at Kelric, then back at Xirene. "This man isn't a provider. He's a laborer. I ordered several a few days ago. He just came in early."
"But look at him," she protested. "He's too pretty to—"
"Enough!" A muscle jerked in Kaliga's cheek. "It's a mistake. I will have him sent to the dorms."
"But I thought he was a present for me."
Kaliga brushed her hair back from her face. "Go in the central room. I left you something." An image flashed in his mind, a ruby necklace that matched the gems in her hair.
Lucky man, Kelric thought, to have brought her another present.
Xirene glowed, already forgetting Kelric. "You are a most esteemed husband, my love." Then she swept off, in search of wherever Kaliga had left the necklace.
The admiral turned, his focus snapping to Kelric. "Get up." As Kelric rose to his feet, Kaliga said, "Who sent you?"
Kelric knew he couldn't make up a background. He had too little data about Eube to pull it off. "Don't know, sir. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry." Kaliga watched him as if he were a bug on the wall. "Where are you from?"
"I don't know that either, sir."
"Why not?"
"I don't understand those things."
He snorted. "What did they do, take your brain out?"
"No, sir. I don't know. I'm sorry." He felt Kaliga's anger. The admiral thought one of his enemies had sent Kelric as an insult, to suggest the aging warlord couldn't satisfy his pretty young bride better than a brainless provider.
"You will work on the rim crew," Kaliga said. With that, he spun on his bootheel and stalked out of the room.
Only then did Kelric realize he had fallen into a military mode of address with the admiral, in his attempts to sound deferential. He called Kaliga "sir" rather than using the overblown honorifics providers piled on their owners. If Kaliga noticed, though, he gave no sign of it. Kelric suspected he had become so used to military forms, they were transparent to him.
Relieved they were going to leave him alone, Kelric sat in the pillows and mentally sifted through the jumble of data he had picked up from Kaliga and Xirene. The admiral was tired, overworked by some recent political upheaval. A change in government. Something about Eldrin, their stolen Key, but it hadn't been immediate enough in the Aristo's mind for Kelric to extract details.
A maid showed up with a change of clothes for him, a gray jumpsuit with the silver silhouette of a battleship on its shoulder. Kelric recognized the insignia of the Kaliga Line: just as the House of Majda had always produced admirals and generals for ISC, so the Kaliga line did for ESComm.
He thought of Tarquine's revelation about Corey's assassination. Even after so long, it hurt. How would his life have been different if Corey had lived? He would never have ended up on Coba. Probably he would be in Allied custody now, like the rest of his family. At least this way he had the chance to make things better for his people, his family, and Corey's memory. If he could just reach the damn Lock.
After he changed into the jumpsuit, he folded his gold clothes in a neat pile. He had rather liked those garments. So had Tarquine. An unsettling response stirred his thoughts. Gods help him, but a part of him had found Tarquine intriguing. He could no longer pretend drugs caused the emotion. Her designer chemicals no longer saturated his body.
You feel interest too easily
, he told himself. He had never really thought about it before, but it did seem he often became very fond of his lovers. Not always. Only if he liked them in the first place. But when he did, he invariably felt affection in a short time.
It wasn't love, though. When he truly loved a woman, it blazed inside him. Was he normal? Not once, but four times, he had fallen in love with great intensity, the type of emotion called "once in a lifetime." He still loved Corey after thirty-five years. He would forever care for Savina, the mother of his daughter. Nor would he forget Shaliece, his first romance, at fourteen. He would love Ixpar until the day of his death.
Hell, he liked being in love. He liked making love. It wasn't only sex, though that played a big part. He could have had plenty of partners if his only interest were the mechanics. It was more than that. As an empath, he thrived on the affection from his partners. The more he gave to them, the more they gave back to him.
It was an odd insight. He didn't normally analyze his moods. But it was true. The better people around him felt, the better he felt. When they desired him, loved him, he experienced those emotions too. The greater their contentment, the greater his. So he sought to make them content. He liked to see his lovers smile, hold them, laugh with them, pleasure them. The more they enjoyed sex, the more he enjoyed it. He often felt his partner's orgasm as well as his own.
That lovely coppery provider Taratus sent him, the two girls and the youth at the banquet, even Tarquine the Finance Minister— they all evoked his affection. Their emotions imprinted on his empath's mind, became part of his neural patterns. Gods help him, but Tarquine fascinated him. It was impossible for him to sleep with a woman the way Cargo Master Zeld had wanted, fast and hard, for lust only. If he had made love to her, he probably would have started to like her too.
He wondered if all telepaths experienced the effect. Although it was known they fell in love more easily than normal people, he had never heard of such extreme reactions. Did some quirk of his mind intensify the process? Fate had given him an appearance people found pleasing, but it didn't seem enough to explain the extreme reactions he inspired, whether it was the queens of Coba going to war over him or Tarquine spending fourteen million credits.
The effect had an ugly flip side: just as his empathic traits enhanced his positive experiences, so they magnified the negative. The auction had been a nightmare. What he had picked up from the Aristos that night had been his own pain. The rape they had committed imprinted on his mind at a level so deep, it had become part of him, like emotional scar tissue.
Combat was even worse. He had experienced the death of every Trader he killed, both taskmakers and Aristos. He felt them die, felt their fear and hatred, felt the Aristos lust for his pain. Over the years it had all become ingrained in his psyche, battle after battle, year after year, scar after scar.
He had liked being a test pilot, though. Alone and isolated, he thrived on the exhilaration of flight, even the danger. It was just him and his craft, sailing the seas of space or the swirling skies of a planet. No hatred, no death, no brutality.
Kelric knew now he would have been happier as a math professor at some university, alone with his equations, married to Corey, able to love her and be loved in return, without the pressure of other minds. Except for lectures. No wonder he hated public appearances. All those minds focused on him were like the pound of waves against a crumbling seawall. It didn't matter whether the sea was beautiful and wild like Skolians, or dark and brooding like Aristos. If the wall broke, he would drown.
"— must come now," the voice said.
He raised his head. The lieutenant who had brought him to the house was standing in the doorway.
"I'm sorry," Kelric answered. "What did you say?"
"You must come now," the lieutenant repeated. "To the dorms."
"Oh. Yes. Of course." He stood up, relieved he was going to spend the night in a dorm rather than sleeping with Xirene, or whatever else she might have decided to do with him.
The magcar waited outside. The lieutenant put him in back, then slid into the front seat. They took off through the starlit parks. He didn't think the officer was actually driving; the car took care of that. The separation had more to do with prestige: an ESComm lieutenant had far more status than a laborer.
The dorms were on the edge of a residential area, where parks gave way to rows of long, airy buildings. The car stopped in front of a pale gold structure. The lieutenant escorted Kelric inside, into a lobby with ivory walls. It had no furniture, only yellow pillows strewn about on a light blue carpet.