The Final Key: Part Two of Triad (33 page)

Take try sister home,
Dehya thought.

Take my mother home,
Soz thought.

we haven't the strength,
Shannon answered.

FOUR SECONDS,
the Orbiter Triad Chair thought.

You must!
Eldrinson thought. The sea churned and clouds massed.

endless seas of blue. forever blue.

THREE SECONDS.
That came from the Safelanding Chair.

Soz hung onto Roca, tears on her face, their minds blending. Roca felt her straining to do the impossible, to pull her out of the Trader ship. Eldrinson supported them with the ocean of his mind; Dehya gave the universe definition; Shannon and the Archers sang; and Roca tried to add her strength to theirs, though her mind was injured, perhaps beyond healing. Soz drew immense energies from the flotilla, but it wasn't enough. They had too little strength.

They were losing the link.

Good-bye.
Grief wrenched through Roca's thoughts.
Remember that I love you.
She would never lose that knowledge no matter what happened to her ravaged brain. She would take it to her death.
Live and be well. All of you,

Roca, no!
the Bard screamed the words.

Mother, hold on!
Soz cried. Shannon shouted her name.

Roca couldn't hold on. Her grip slipped.

In the distance, a bank of clouds swelled in the sky. Roca felt ill, knowing it would tear her away from her family and leave her with Raziquon. Forever. The Ruby Dynasty could never repeat this confluence of Rhon minds; through her link with them, she knew they had managed this time only because the newly recovered web had too little structure to define Kyle space. The more it gained, the less they could mold it to their minds.

TWO SECONDS.

The clouds rushed toward them. No natural storm moved that fast—no, it wasn't a storm. It was a swell in the sea, huge, gigantic, monstrous. It came on, relendess and unswerving, drawing up water from all around them. It lifted them high into the cloud-drenched sky, incredibly high. It had no nuance, no finesse, no subdety—just sheer, implacable, inescapable power.

ONE SECOND.

A new voice thundered around them, one Roca had been certain she would never hear again—an impossible, incredible voice so full of strength that it infused the entire Kyle universe.

Take her home, Shannon,
Kurj thought.

Blue Dale singing filled her mind. Kurj's wave rolled through the Kyle, a mental strength unlike any other ever known. It lifted the song, drenching it with power. The wave-song swept over and past them—

And took Roca.

TIME ENDED.

18

The Choice

Dehya thought,
Eldrinson, transfer web control to me.
Kurj thought,
Sox, transfer War Room control to me.

Their power deluged Soz's mind. With an exhale of relief that echoed throughout Kyle space, Soz released control of the meshes that coordinated ISC. Kurj took over with an expertise accumulated over decades of experience.

Welcome back,
she thought. Those two words held a world of gratitude. In the backwash of his mind, Soz could only marvel at his strength. She sensed her father relinquishing his hold of the webs to Dehya, who took control with an ease that humbled Soz. Dehya and Kurj blended with a power that Soz had never understood until this moment.

The voice of Devon Majda crackled over her comm. "Cadet Valdoria, we're bringing you out of the Chair." She sounded stunned. In shock. "Imperator Skolia has informed us that he has control of the web."

He. She meant Kurj. Not Jazida. No wonder Devon was shocked. Incredibly, their commander had returned when they all feared he would die.

Tea, ma'am,
Soz thought. As grateful as Soz was to have Kurj back, she had too little strength to rejoice aloud. That final effort for her mother had drained her resources.

RELEASED,
the Chair thought

Thank you,
Soz answered.

The visor over her head rifted and she saw the observation bay lit by stars and nebulae. It was as if she were out in space, alone. For a moment she just sat After more than four days in this Chair, she needed to readjust She had to absorb that her father had become a member of the Dyad.

The Triad.

Soz began to free herself from the med lines. She rolled her shoulders and kneaded the back of her neck. The Chair looked hard, but its surfaces had flexed to keep her muscles from going into spasms from her sitting so long. Sometime earlier it had moved away from the ladder, and it now hung suspended in the center of the bay.

A grinding noise came from above. As she looked up, the hatchway opened. Medics descended into the bay, a trio on a hover platform and two others climbing down the ladder. The trio had an air stretcher, along with monitors and other equipment.

As Soz unfastened her exoskeleton, the platform reached her and hovered in front of the Chair. A medic stepped forward, a stocky woman with streaks of gray in her hair. She wore the green jumpsuit of a Fleet major with the silver insignia of a medic.

Soz saluted, extending her arms with wrists crossed and fists clenched. "Cadet Valdoria, reporting for duty." Her voice sounded rusty and her arms felt too heavy.

The major smiled. "Relax, Cadet. You're off duty."

"Thank you, ma'am." Soz wearily slid toward the platform, which was flush with the bottom of the Chair. She stood up on the hovering disk, then swayed as vertigo swept over her.

The major grasped her arm, offering support. "We have a stretcher."

"That won't be necessary," Soz said. "I'm fine." She felt drained, but she had no intention of letting them carry her out.

The three doctors scanned her with various objects and studied their monitors. No one tried to put Soz on the stretcher. Either they had verified she could manage on her own, or else they respected her pride and didn't insist.

As the platform rose through the starlit bay, Soz looked down at the Chair.
I'll be back.

A light flickered on the throne, blue then gold. For a moment, Soz thought she sensed approval, but she couldn't be certain. She might be attributing human emotion to an entity that had none.

At the top of the bay, Soz climbed out under her own power. It surprised her to see Devon waiting with several aides. She had expected the general to remain on the bridge. Her presence here told Soz a great deal about the importance Devon attached to her work in the Chair. She had allowed Soz to draw immense amounts of energy from the batde cruiser.

Soz drew herself up and saluted.

Devon inclined her head. "Good work."

'Thank you, ma'am." Soz did her best to remain upright, though her head was swirnming. "Is my mother all right?"

"Your mother?"

"We had to ... pull her home."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." ^

Soz wasn't sure herself. She was about to pass out.

"Cadet Valdoria." Devon was watching her closely. "Report for duty at thirty-two hours, ship's time. I will check into your mother's whereabouts in the meantime."

Node, how long is that from now?
Soz asked.

Eleven hours.

Eleven merciful hours. Soz swallowed. "Thank you, ma'am."

Devon's voice gentied. "Go get some sleep." i "Yes, ma' am." Soz hoped she made it to her quarters before she collapsed. She didn't want them taking her to sick bay.

And when she awoke—she would go to war.

Roca became aware of hands holding her shoulders. Someone had wrapped a blanket around her. That blue—the mist, the ocean—it had been ... Eldri. Soz and Shannon had been there. Dehya and Kurj, too? It had to have been an illusion. Dehya was lost and Kurj was dying.

Her mind felt dull. Strangers were crouched around her, slender people with silvery eyes and hair. They watched her with unwavering attention, and blue mist curled around them The hands holding the blanket around her shoulders belonged to a young woman with a fey face. They were sitting in a forest with drifts of glitter all around and bubble trees above. Home?

A voice came softiy at her side. "Mother."

Roca turned her head. A man was kneeling next to her, his face creased with concern. "Shani?" she asked. Shannon was a boy, and this was a man, but she felt sure they were one and the same.

His eyes filled with moisture. "You will be all right. I promise." He said it softly, with pain, as if she wasn't going to be all right at all.

"Where is this?" she whispered. Her voice was so hoarse from screaming, she could barely speak.

"The Blue Dale Mountains."

"The what?" The names meant nothing.

"It's all right." Tears slid down his face. "We'll take care of you. You're safe now."

"Thank you," she whispered.

But she would never feel safe again.

Nothing populated this volume of space but interstellar dust, cosmic radiation, and stray chunks of rock. There were no settlements, no habitats, nothing. No living entity recorded the moment when an ESComm probe dropped out of inversion into real space. Then a Starsprinter appeared, the fastest of the ESComm warships. Within seconds, hundreds of small ships were darting through the deserted region of space.

More ships appeared. Big ships.

The ESComm force came on, huge numbers of ships dropping into real space every second, vessels ranging in size from tiny booms all the way up to mammoth Starslammers and the indomitable battle cruisers. Solos accompanied the invasion force, as deadly and versatile as their Jag counterparts, but lacking the advantage of the Kyle meshes. The ships came on, a thousand, ten thousand, one hundred thousand. When they finished gathering, half a million ships spread across space in a giant wedge aimed straight into the heart of Skolia.

No Skolian had seen them appear.

No living Skolian.

One tiny ISC probe recorded their arrival.

The sleeping giant awoke.

Like a mythological leviathan stirring from a slumber of eons, Kurj Skolia slowly opened his eyes. As he sat up, monitors flashed lights, alarms blared, and frantic medics ran into the room.

He merely nodded.

Kurj ordered them to take him to the Chair. His doctors tried to refuse. Just a few moments earlier, they had believed he was near death. He ignored their protests. Being a military dictator had its advantages, even if officially he had less authority than the elected civilian body that governed Skolia. Few dared to refuse him. His civilization was, after all, called an Imperialate.

They soon left the hospital.

A full retinue accompanied him. His anxious doctors, his military aides, numerous web techs, and his Abaj bodyguards—they all came with him. A military Class One flyer took them to a vault secreted high in the Red Mountains. It had been there for five millennia, and would probably survive for another five.

Inside, the Triad Chair waited.

A sense of acknowledgment came from the Chair as Kurj walked into the vault, surrounded by his people. The web techs fastened him into the throne. He sat with his spine straight against its back, his face drawn, his skin sallow, his powerful body thinner than before. Holographic starlight from the dome overhead glinted on his metallic skin. Control panels surrounded him, and the doctors tended him with meds, lines, and monitors. The silver exoskeleton folded around his body and the visor hung poised above his head. He set his muscular arms on the armrests of the throne and looked out at the people attendant on his session.

Satisfaction showed in his gold metallic gaze.

The Military Key had returned.

An insistent alarm woke Soz. She peered blearily at the clock on her console, about a handspan from her bunk. She had slept four hours.

"Valdoria here," she said, trying to sound crisp instead of groggy, and failing miserably.

Devon responded. "Cadet Valdoria, this is Captain Majda. We've heard from Diesha. Imperator Skolia wants you back in the Triad Chair. He'll have orders for you."

Soz wanted to groan, but she kept quiet. If Kurj could be in command only four hours after coming out of a coma, she could damn well manage to wake up. "Right away, ma'am." She dragged herself out of bed and got dressed.

The Triad Chamber was well down the cylinder. Soz took the magrail and arrived within minutes. A group of techs waited for her, but she shook her head at them. The Chair just tolerated her presence; if she brought in too many people, it might rebuff her. When the techs protested, Soz remained firm, and they soon gave up trying to change her mind. Better to let her go alone than risk the Chair's refusal to help.

As Soz descended the ladder, she felt the Chair's awareness. The techs closed the hatch above, isolating her in the bay. Slowed by fatigue, she reached the massive throne and slid into it. The visor lowered and the exoskeleton folded around her.

ATTENDING.

It felt different. Deeper. More powerful. More like... Kurj.

Imperator Skolia requires my help.
Soz thought. She tried to hide her fatigue, but with this close of a mental link, she doubted she succeeded.

LINKING.

Suddenly Soz was in the War Room on the Orbiter.

Sox.
Kurj's acknowledgment rumbled in her mind.

Cadet Valdoria reporting for duty.
Then she added,
It's good to see you back, sir.
That was, perhaps, the understatement of the century.

Good to bo back.
For all that Kurj seemed drained, his thoughts formed with clarity and strength.
I need your support for the communication meshes I'm creating among our defending forces.

Yes, sir!
Even under normal circumstances, it would have been difficult to maintain such an extensive set of links among so many ships. Normally Kurj could have managed it,

but given his condition, it didn't surprise her that he wanted assistance.

She checked the status of Roca's Pride and its flotilla. Devon had over a thousand war craft under her command. Their orders: proceed to the Metropoli star system. It was the most heavily populated region in the Imperialate. The majority of the ISC forces would engage the invaders in a distant region of space, far from the settled areas, but if any invaders slipped past the defenses and penetrated this deep into Skolian territory, Devon's forces would be here to take them on.