The Final Key: Part Two of Triad (25 page)

Shannon had no idea how long they spent in that glorious spell, the ecstasy of dreaming, dreaming, dreaming forever ... The Archers drifted and fell behind, growing vague as he went deeper into trance. He sensed structures. Nodes and meshes. He wasn't fully in Kyle space; he formed only blurred impressions. But it was there, the web, glistening, the ephemeral handiwork of the Dyad.

He became aware of light. It took him a while to realize dawn was spreading across the Blue Dale Mountains. Mist surrounded him, shades of blue, even white, a color rarely seen in the fog, except here in the highest mountains where the ubiquitous glitter thinned.

The Eloria stirred, looking at one another, a few murmurs, greetings of the morning, a sense of completion and satisfaction among them. Shannon nodded to Varielle, needing no words. They knew what they had shared. He had sensed the richness of the Kyle web, just a glimpse,

and he couldn't interact with it here, but its beauty had saturated him.

Unlike the Eloria, however, he felt no contentment this morning, for he had learned more. The web was unraveling— with no one to stop its destruction.

He had to go back into the blue.

A shudder wracked Eldrin. Sweat plastered his shirt to his torso and darkened his blue trousers. The programmable cloth had disposed of the moisture at first, but he had gone beyond its capability to deal with him. He was on fire. Crammed into the hammock with the two children and a dock worker from the port, he was suffocating. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples. Fever blazed in his head and body. No one else seemed to feel the heat; other refugees were shivering.

"Sir?" the boy at his side asked. "Are you sick?" His voice trembled.

Eldrin patted the boy's shoulder, and tried to smile at the girl, who sat between them and was watching with wide eyes. He was all they had right now, and he didn't want them to be afraid. "I'll be fine," he rasped and hoped he was right.

As Eldrin shivered, he realized the man in a hammock to his right was watching them. Everyone was crammed so close, the fellow literally rubbed elbows with him.

The man spoke with concern. "We might find a doctor onboard."

Sweat ran into Eldrin's eyes. "I doubt I could get through to look, if it's this crowded everywhere." He couldn't even stand up. The health alarms in his body were surely sending out signals, but he doubted anyone here had the equipment to receive them. The distribution of medical personnel during the evacuation seemed to have gone awry after ESComm fired on the city.

An older woman in the hammock beyond the man spoke to Eldrin. "Son, you're as pale as snow."

His attempt at a smile felt like a grimace. He resisted the delirious impulse to ask if she meant he was blue. Pain stabbed his temples, and white blots sparked around him like

afterimages of too-bright lights. He wanted to assure her that he was all right, but he could only clench the cables holding up the hammock, He leaned his forehead against one, praying for the misery to stop, the fever to recede, any relief.

Words echoed around him. The man next to him was speaking to a young woman on the deck. Eldrin saw the man's lips move and heard his voice, but they seemed disconnected. Words leapt out. "Spread the question from person to person," the man said. "Any healer. I don't know what's wrong, but he's in trouble."

"Phorine," Eldrin rasped. "Ask if they have phorine."

"Phorine?" the older woman asked. "What is it?"

Eldrin couldn't reply; it had taken all his resources to get out those few words.

The man said, "I don't know. His medicine, I think."

Yes. Eldrin would have cried the word if he could have spoken. He wanted a drink so much, he burned. Combined with his voracious craving for phorine, it was unbearable.

He had to bear it. He had no other choice.

Blankness smothered Soz's mind. She ripped the exoskeleton off her body and ripped its prongs out of her sockets. As she shoved up her visor, the bridge snapped into focus.

"Good gods." She stared at Communications, who was floating by the console, holding a grip, with Devon on one side and Weapons on the other.

Devon looked from Soz to Communications. "What happened?"

Communications seemed bewildered. "According to my link with the console, Cadet Valdoria reformed its gate into Kyle space. Then the gate disintegrated."

"The web is unraveling." Soz took a breath to slow her racing pulse. "If I had stayed in contact with that gate, it would have taken my mind with it and possibly erased parts of my brain."

"Are you all right?" Devon asked. "No damage, ma'am." Working on Kyle nodes felt strange to Soz because of her lack of experience, but it also felt natural.

Right, somehow. However, that only made her more aware of the danger. The unstable nodes could destabilize her own mind if she was working too closely with them when they failed.

"You're saying we can't link into Kyle space?" Devon asked. "That we are losing more than the gates?"

"It's all failing," Soz said. "If ISC doesn't start repairs soon, we'll lose the entire thing."

"We can't rebuild it!" Weapons said. "Only a member of the Dyad can do that."

"It's not gone yet," Soz said. "If we staunch the damage now, we could save part of it."

"How?" Communications had gone pale. "Kurj Skolia is in a coma and no one knows if Pharaoh Dyhianna is alive. We need the Dyad to stop a collapse."

"No," Soz murmured. "We don't."

Devon spoke firmly. "Cadet Valdoria, the answer is no."

Soz regarded her steadily. "Ma'am, if we don't risk it, the Kyle web will collapse. It could take years to rebuild. We don't have years. We're under attack."

"You can't risk it," Devon told her.

"I don't understand," Weapons said.

"The web requires a Dyad member to create and power it," Devon said. "They are also the best choices to support it, but any Rhon telop can do maintenance work."

Communications spoke dryly. "The web is already collapsing. It's a bit late for maintenance."

Devon glanced at Soz. "Cadet?"

"I can't rebuild what has already failed," Soz said. "But I can try to hold together what's left."

Communications went very still. "You're suggesting you go into the Dyad Chair."

"It would kill you!" Weapons said.

"She is Rhon," Devon said. "In theory, she can use it." She regarded Soz. "But you aren't ready."

Soz agreed. The idea scared the blazes out of her. She had no idea if she had the strength, and she knew she lacked the skill, but too much was at stake to let the risks dissuade her.

"I have to be ready," Soz said. "We have no choice."

Weapons shook her head. "The few non-Dyad telops who tried to use that Chair died."

"They weren't Rhon psions." Soz felt its presence even now, as if it were aware of their discussion.

Come to me,
she thought.

No response.

Come,
she coaxed.

The Chair's mind stirred.

Soz spoke to Devon. "Let me go now, before it's too late."

Devon looked around at the others. "Opinions?"

"We need the gates," Communications said. "Without them, we're blind."

Weapons spoke flatly. "We can't risk the Imperial Heir."

'This is why we have Dyad heirs," Intelligence said. 'To step in if the Dyad becomes incapacitated."

"And if it kills her?" Navigation demanded.

Soz rubbed the muscles at the back of her neck, working at a kink that even her nanomeds couldn't ease. "If we can't keep the web, we're all dead anyway. Or worse, if the Traders capture us."

Devon let out a slow breath. "All right, Valdoria. Try."

The Chair waited, suspended in space, its lights glowing in subde patterns. Soz felt its mind. It knew she was coming. It waited. It had yet to decide what it thought about her.

About halfway down the ladder, Soz paused and looked up. Tapperhaven was sitting in the hatch above, ready to start down. Rajindia and a group of officers were visible behind her, standing around the hatch.

"I need to go alone," Soz said.

"Are you sure?" Tapperhaven asked.

Soz nodded. "Otherwise I don't think the Chair will respond."

"If you are in too long, I'll have to send in medtechs to make sure you're properly nourished and monitored." "I understand."

Tapperhaven nodded with obvious reluctance, then stood and spoke to an aide. "Close the hatch."

They secured the hatch, closing Soz into the bay.

Soz considered the Chair.
It's just you and me.

It remained motionless.

She continued down the ladder, acutely aware of the stars and endless froth of nebulae all around, brilliant in fiery red, orange, blue, and white. Only dichromesh glass separated her from that gorgeous, cold void. Silhouetted against that vista, the Chair was a massive shadow. It waited, assessing this callow Ruby psion who would dare sit in a throne owned by no one and allowed only to the Dyad.

You need to make an exception,
Soz thought.
Otherwise, the web will die.

No response.

Soz stopped when she was level with the Chair. Hanging on the ladder, she gazed out at interstellar space. She thought of her parents, her siblings, of Kurj and Dehya, seeing each in her mind. She imagined sending them the affection she had so much trouble expressing in person. This could be her farewell.

Then she thought,
Come to me.

A deep hum vibrated through the Chair. The throne swung closer and closer, until she feared it would crush her against the ladder. Just before it hit her legs, it stopped. Soz released the breath she had been holding. The Chair was designed from an ancient composite that contained granite, diamond, and synthetic components modern science had yet to reproduce. Its blocky seat was squared, the back rose in a meter-tall slab, and its armrests were half a meter wide. A visored helmet waited above its back and an exoskeleton lay on the seat. She laid her hand on its arm and energy pulsated through her.

Soz steeled herself and slid into the Chair. She expected it to be hard and unyielding, but it gave under her body. As she sat with her spine against its back, a web settled over her head and extended threads into her scalp, though she knew only because she sensed its intent, not because she felt anything. She laid her forearms on the armrests, and psiphon prongs clicked into her gaundets. The visor lowered over her head and the exoskeleton folded around her body, plugging psiphons into her ankles and spine.

Her awareness of the bay receded. She existed in a universe of fog. It sparkled in a glitter of enigmatic moods.
Getting poetic, Sozoozala?

What the blazes? Soz peered into the mist. Only Jazar could get away with calling her that; she would deck anyone else.
Jaz?

He formed out of the fog, his well-built body coalescing from silver and blue streamers.
Heya, Soz.

How did you get here?

He smirked at her.
So you like my body?

She felt herself flush.
Stop eavesdropping on my mind.

He came to the Chair. Mist swirled around him, silver and blue.
/ can't help it.

You aren't really here. The Chair created you.
This was nothing like her interactions with the fake Chair in practice runs at DMA.

Jazar's smile faded.
You forgot your mother's birthday.

What?

Her birthday yesterday. You forgot.
He seemed genuinely upset.
She forgot.

How did he know her mother's birthday? Soz had never told him and it wasn't public knowledge. But he was right. It had been yesterday, ship's time.
What are you trying to ten me?

Your mother forgot.
He was fading away.
Althor forgot. He and your mother. Forgot...

Jaz, wait! Tell me what you mean.
She was on the edge of something obscured, something important, if she could just make it out.

Suddenly the fog cleared. She was in a room full of consoles, blue Luminex instead of the usual white. Secondary Tapperhaven was walking toward her, which made no sense, either, because the battie cruiser had no console room like this.

They are failing,
Tapperhaven said.

The Kyle nodes?

The mesh.

We can Six it.

No...
Tapperhaven blurred into the mist.
Need Dyad.
Desperation tugged at Soz.
We must hold the web together.

Tapperhaven had become blue light.
How?

An idea came to Soz. So far the Chair had communicated using images she recognized.
Can yon show me a mesh? Silver strings tor the operational links. Gold (or nodes. Black where the meshes are tailing.

A net appeared around her in every direction, a three-dimensional maze that went on and on, silver and gold, so thick with nodes that many blended together. Dark, empty patches showed everywhere, ragged holes that were growing even as she watched.

Soz gathered up the mesh and clenched the lines, determined to keep them from unraveling. She held only a tiny fraction of the web, and those few lines dragged her deeper into the mist. They strained to pull out of her grip or slingshot her into dark holes where the web had already ceased to exist. Planting her booted feet wide, with her arms outstretched to her sides, Soz gripped the lines in her fists.

*Come, * she called to portions beyond her grasp.
Come to me.

More lines wrapped around her arms and hands. She clenched them hard, resisting their pull, and hung on, knowing if she eased her hold, the encroaching darkness would swallow what remained of this mesh. She couldn't stop the collapse, only slow its progress. But she was entangled in the web, and more and more lines were wrapping about her, seeking the stability of her Rhon mind.

Holding the lines, she finally, truly understood what it meant to wield the full power of the Dyad—because she didn't have it She could stand here, yes, and slow the failure, but she also knew the inescapable truth: alone, without the power of the Dyad behind her, she could neither escape this snarled mesh nor prevent its final collapse.