Primary Inversion (43 page)

      
“Yes. That one.” I doubted there were any others.

      
He peered at Jaibriol, who had on his trousers now. “Why were you sitting naked on my daughter’s bed?” As Jaibriol opened his mouth, my father said, “No. Nevermind. I don’t think I want to hear the answer.”

      
“What are you going to do?” I asked.

      
“Do?” My father scowled at me. “Before or after I have heart failure?”

      
I couldn’t help but smile. “Before, I hope.”

      
“This isn’t amusing, Sauscony.”

      
I stopped smiling. “No. It’s not.”

      
He motioned at Jaibriol. “Please explain this to me.”

      
“I helped him escape,” I said. “That’s why Kurj thinks commandos are loose on Diesha.”

      
“Kurj captured Jaibriol Qox? And you freed him?”

      
I nodded. “After the alarm sounded, the only safe place was here.”

      
“The Imperator’s palace.”

      
“Yes.”

      
He seemed more bewildered than angry. “And just exactly what prompted this urge of yours to free Jaibriol Qox?”

      
I spoke softly. “Touch his mind. Then you’ll understand.”

      
He didn’t even turn. But I felt his attention shift as he reached toward Jaibriol’s mind. Although I wasn’t sure Jaibriol consciously realized what was happening, he responded, raising his blocks more by instinct than intention.

      
My father’s forehead creased. He sat in a chair at a table by my bed, looking at neither Jaibriol nor me. He concentrated harder—and Jaibriol blocked him again.

      
My father changed his approach as if he were trying to catch a skittish
lyrine
colt. He nudged Jaibriol here, there, and there, subtle mental knocks that came and went so gently, Jaibriol probably didn’t feel them. Even I could barely follow them. But that didn’t work, either. So my father came questioning to my mind, trying to reach Jaibriol through my link with him. As I relaxed my barriers, my father flowed into the link—

      
—and stood up so fast, he knocked over his chair. Jaibriol rose up to his knees, clenching the bedpost as if preparing to jump down and defend himself. I didn’t think he even realized his mental barriers had been bypassed.

      
My father stared at him. “You aren’t an Aristo.”

      
Jaibriol answered in perfect Iotic. “Of course I am an Aristo.”

      
“No,” my father said. “You aren’t.”

      
Jaibriol’s fist tightened the post. “Are you telling me you don’t consider me your equal?”

      
My father shook his head. “No. I am saying I think you are like me.”

      
“Jaibriol.” I sat next to him on the bed and laid my hand on his leg. “He won’t hurt you.”

      
He turned to me, his exhaustion falling like a blanket across my shoulders. Although he didn’t let go of the post, his grip on it eased enough that his knuckles were no longer white.

      
My father glanced at me. “Does Kurj know he is Rhon?”

      
“Not yet,” I said. “But when he finds out, he’ll be certain Jaibriol came to destroy the Triad.”

      
He turned back to Jaibriol. “Did you?”

      
Jaibriol met his gaze steadily. “No.”

      
My father considered him. Then he nodded. That was it. A simple nod. No more questions. No skepticism. No threats. Nothing. Just a
nod.
I couldn’t believe it.

      
You wouldn’t be here like this if you didn’t trust him,
my father thought.

      
You know,
I thought.
You’re very different from Kurj.

      
He smiled slightly.
So your mother tells me.

      
“I thought you and she were back home.” I spoke out loud, realizing how strange our silence must seem to Jaibriol. “Seeing the grandchildren and all.”

      
He pushed his spectacles up his nose. “My plans changed.”

      
That didn’t sound right. Given the choice of going home and being with my mother, the two things he most enjoyed doing, or coming to Diesha and being around Kurj, I couldn’t fathom his choosing Kurj. “Why?”

      
“I had a convulsion.”

      
What?
I went over to him. “Aren’t you following your treatment?”

      
“Of course. I don’t know why it happened.” He paused. “Actually, it wasn’t one convulsion. I had several.”

      
My pulse jumped. “How many?”

      
“I don’t know. We were at home. I felt…strange. The next I knew, I was waking up in the hospital near the village. That offworld doctor made a fuss. She said I had a series of generalized tonic-clonic attacks back-to-back. She sent me here. I didn’t want to come but she insisted.” He scowled. “She contacted Kurj and he sent a ship for me.”

      
I took his hands. “Are you all right now?”

      
“I feel fine. None of the doctors found anything wrong.”

      
“And you don’t know why you had the seizures?”

      
“Probably the nightmare I had, that’s all.” He squeezed my hands and then let them go. “Stop looking at me with this worried face. You’re as bad as those doctors.”

      
I had never heard of a nightmare giving him epileptic seizures before. “What did you dream?”

      
“Someone was giving me shocks with an Espring. I couldn’t stop them because I was chained.” He squinted at me. “It is these machines, Sauscony. I don’t even know names for half of them. Mesh nodes and robots and things. They give me nightmares. It means nothing.”

      
I hardly heard him finish. One word kept jumping out at me. Espring. Like the interrogators had used on Jaibriol. “Who chained you?”

      
“I don’t know.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Old soldiers have such dreams.”

      
About an
Espring?
I hadn’t even realized he knew what it was. He had spent most of his life in what, by Skolian standards, was abject poverty. I doubted anything resembling an Espring existed on the entire planet.

      
“Had you been talking about Esprings with mother?” I asked.

      
“No. It was nothing, Sauscony.”

      
“Dreaming about electric shocks is
nothing?
”

      
He shifted his weight. “Actually, I dreamed I was being interrogated.”

      
On the bed behind me, Jaibriol drew in a sharp breath.

      
Somehow I made my voice stay calm. “Do you remember why?”

      
“Someone kept asking about my father’s army. I don’t know why I would dream such a thing. My father died when I was a few months old.” He rubbed his wrists, massaging them in the place where, on Jaibriol, the skin had been ripped raw. “It was so vivid. It felt real, even after I woke up.”

      
A chill went through me. Somehow he had tapped into Jaibriol’s interrogation. Through Kurj?
Through me?

      
I knew Kurj. When he realized what I had done, he would have me questioned thoroughly, as much in response to my betrayal as to find out why. If Jaibriol’s interrogation caused my father so much distress, what would happen when it was me on that bench? Despite my father’s claim that his convulsions were “nothing,” I knew better. If he were having status epilepticus—back-to-back
grand mal
attacks—he was in a lot more danger than he was willing to admit.

      
Sauscony.
My father motioned toward Jaibriol.
You truly want this man?

      
I made an image of my mother.
What would your life be like without her?

      
Your mother is not one quarter Highton.

      
Is what you saw in Jaibriol’s mind so monstrous?

      
My father exhaled.
No. Quite the contrary.
He considered Jaibriol, who was clearly trying to figure out why we were staring at each other and running through gestures and expressions as if we were holding a conversation.

      
“The two of you must ask the Allieds for sanctuary,” my father said.

      
If only life were that simple. “We can’t get off Diesha.”

      
“Couldn’t you have a pilot fly out here from the starport?” he asked. “Take the ship to Delos. No one but the three of us will know you have a passenger.”

      
How did I explain a planet-wide cordon to a man who understood war in terms of cavalry and troops? “We can’t get a ship, not without clearance from Kurj. And he won’t give it.”

      
“If I had another convulsion,” my father said, “you would have to summon a doctor.”

      
My pulse leapt. “You think you’re going to have another one?”

      
He smiled slightly. “It could be arranged.”

      
Ah. That would certainly bring someone out here. However much Kurj resented his stepfather, he needed him in good shape for the Triad. “But even if he sends a ship, he will only clear us for planetary travel, perhaps to a hospital on another continent, somewhere he considers safer than here. He won’t allow anyone to leave Diesha until he catches Jaibriol.”

      
“That doesn’t mean you can’t leave anyway.”

      
“I don’t see how.”

      
“You freed Lord Qox.”

      
“That was before ISC went on alert. I doubt anyone could get out now.”

      
He met my gaze squarely. “I’m not asking if anyone can do it. I’m asking if you can.”

      
That caught me by surprise. To say he had never been thrilled with my choice of careers was an understatement. It rarely occurred to me that he might actually have a high opinion of my abilities. “I don’t know if I can. But I’m willing to try.”

      
“Good. Then it is decided.”

      
“It’s not that simple.” As if there were anything remotely simple about what he had proposed. “Even if we get off Diesha—which will be almost impossible—but if we do, we’ll running fast and desperate with who knows how many warships after us. They’ll alert every sentry from here to Delos. We would never make it there.”

      
He pushed up his spectacles. “Then you must already have a place to go when you leave. Somewhere unknown to ISC or the Traders.”

      
“If the place is unknown to ISC, how am I going find it?”

      
“Perhaps if we ask the Allieds.”

      
How could I make him see? “We can’t ask anyone anything. Communications are blocked.”

      
His gaze never wavered. “My Prime line is never blocked.”

      
Did he realize what he was saying? “You can’t use the Prime.”

      
“Why not? My understanding is that Kurj’s security systems won’t report my use of it.”

      
“They won’t even know. No more than you would know if Kurj or Aunt Deha used their Primes. But that’s not the point. You can’t use it for this.”

      
“I don’t see why not.”

      
“Father, you can’t use your hotline to the Allied President to ask for her help in solving a personal problem. It’s meant only for crises that threaten galactic stability.”

      
He spoke quietly. “If the imminent execution of the Highton and Imperial Heirs doesn’t threaten galactic stability, I don’t know what does.”

      
That stopped me. I had been so caught up in events, I hadn’t had time to think through the ramifications. Our executions would tear apart the Rhon. In the midst of that chaos, an enraged Ur Qox would throw his military against us, seeking vengeance for his son’s death while we were weakened with internal strife. Our efforts to convince the Allieds we were a sound, calm government would collapse. We could end up justifying their worst fears, destroying what little trust we had built with them.

      
My father indicated the table. “You must set up the line, Sauscony. I don’t know how.”

      
I sat down, wondering if he had any idea how incongruous it was to the rest of us that he powered the Kyle-Mesh, yet didn’t know how to access it. He was illiterate, both with written language and with computers. Sometimes his refusal to learn bewildered me, other times it worried me, and yet other times I wondered if he had a disability he refused to acknowledge for fear of appearing even more deficient than he already felt when faced with my mother’s universe. But Kyle space—a universe few people could even access, let alone use—was child’s play to him, a place where he didn’t need to read or write. All he had to do was think.

      
I pushed a panel on the table and it swelled until it formed a sphere about half a meter across. As the sphere opened into a console, a horizontal section cleared into a holoscreen.

      
I glanced at my father. “I need the name and security codes for your Prime account.”

      
“The account name is Valdor. The passwords are the names of all you children converted into code by EM16’s level-four security file.”

      
I nodded, managing to act as if what he had just done—revealing the Prime’s prized security codes in the presence of the Highton Heir—was completely normal rather than the act of treason we both knew it to be.