Primary Inversion (Saga of the Skolian Empire) Paperback (20 page)

I felt a nudge against my mind, silent laughter at my image
of Hilt doused in rootberry juice. I turned and found myself looking at a youth
on the other side of the buzzing group, a man with bronze curls and brown eyes.

He smiled at me. His brief touch on my mind hadn’t been
strong, but it was enough to let me know he was an empath. He was also
gorgeous, shy, marvelously well built, and bore absolutely no resemblance to
either Rex or Jaibriol. I smiled back. Maybe I would stick with the group after
all.

So I went for a hike with a crowd of exceedingly healthy people
I had never seen before in my life. It was an easy walk along dirt paths that
meandered through the cloud-grass meadows of Jacob’s Shire, a chance for
members in a newly formed hiking club to get to know each other. The youth who
had touched my mind was Jarith, a music student at the conservatory.

I should have enjoyed the walk. Although I was less used to
the gravity here than the others, the easy walk wasn’t enough to bother me.
Here I was, on a beautiful evening in a beautiful place and with beautiful
people. But I couldn’t relax. What was I doing, acting as if I were normal? I
was an impostor, pretending I had the right to behave like everyone else.

Stop it, I told myself. I had earned the right to enjoy one
evening’s rest.

Tell that to Rex, I thought. Tell that to the providers
while they scream.

I pushed my hand through my hair. Then I realized my arm was
shaking. What was
wrong
with me? Hilt had been talking to me for several
minutes and I had no idea what he said. How was it that I could face death in
combat a thousand different ways, yet I couldn’t deal with a simple
conversation?

We climbed to the top of a hill that let us look out across
the countryside. The sun was dropping down to the horizon in the west where the
rings met the mountains, though this early in the summer it was too far north
to sink behind that great arch. Far in the southwest, the roofs of Jacob’s
Military Institute reflected the setting sun’s rays like liquid glass.

Hilt motioned toward JMI. “Take a look, Soz. That’s where
they train the robots.”

I glanced at him. “Robots?”

He wasn’t smiling anymore. “That’s right. Robots trained to
salute and kill.”

It took conscious effort for me to remain calm, an effort
far out of proportion to his comment. “Those cadets you call robots are all
that stand between you and the Traders.”

Hilt scowled. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those.”

“One of what?”

“Parrots of the empire, our dearly beloved military dictatorship.”

A woman named Mika spoke. “You’ve got it all wrong, Hilt. To
live in a dictatorship you need a dictator. We don’t have a dictator. We have a
Triad.” Dryly she said, “That’s three dictators, my friend.”

“That’s absurd,” Pulli said. “The Assembly rules Skolia. Not
the Triad.”

“If you believe that, you are woefully naive,” Mika said.

“What Triad?” Hilt demanded. “Everyone knows Lord Valdoria
is just a propaganda figurehead they prop up there because the people love him.”

I went rigid. That was my
father
he was talking
about. Lord Eldrinson Althor Valdoria. True, he had become an interstellar potentate
by accident. A simple farmer from a backwater planet, he had neither the
interest nor knowledge to rule the Imperialate. Before assuming his title as
Key to the Web, the only reason he ever left home was because of his epilepsy;
without treatment, he suffered such severe convulsions he could barely
function.

The memory came back vividly: twenty-seven years ago the
Traders tried to assassinate Kurj. Only a Dyad existed then, Kurj as Imperator
and my aunt as Assembly Key. After the attempted assassination, while Kurj lay
near death, the Traders launched an assault against the world where the
Assembly met. In the ensuing chaos, my aunt’s bodyguards whisked her off to the
hidden base Safelanding.

Then the Traders penetrated our computer defenses—and
crashed the Skol-Net.

The entire system collapsed, both the electronic net and the
psibernet. Minor patches were managed here and there, but only Kurj and my aunt
had both the Rhon strength and the Dyad access required to restart the entire
system. But my aunt was unreachable at Safelanding and Kurj was dying. Skolia
was left blind and deaf, floundering like a crippled animal with its brain
gutted while the Traders moved in for the kill.

But they had miscalculated. My father—the “nobody” of the
Rhon—was at an ISC hospital, the unwilling patient of doctors who insisted he
make regular visits so they could monitor his epilepsy. When the Skol-Net
failed, he was only a few hundred meters away from the command center. So a
desperate crew of techs jacked him in to the psilink that powered the system.

No one knew what would happen when my father joined Kurj and
my aunt in their private circle of power. The link might disintegrate, unable
to spread itself out over three such disparate minds. Or it could overload,
killing all three of them in one galaxy-wide short circuit. Or maybe, just
maybe, my father would survive long enough to repower it. Never mind that he
had no idea how it worked, that he came from a society so primitive it had no
electricity, that he might well die from a mental overload even if the rest of
the system survived. It was either jack him in or let Skolia fall to the
Traders.

No one expected what happened. My father told me later that
the Net had looked like a toy to him, like the meshes that we, his children,
used to play with when we were small. Except this sparkling mesh was broken. So
he fixed it—and in the process reactivated the star-spanning brain of Skolia.

He didn’t understand the technology, didn’t even try. To
this day he can’t access it without help. But none of that matters. Once he
enters psiberspace, he
becomes
it, supporting the Skol-Net as the ocean
supports a huge web floating within it. He holds it together with an innate
gift no one else in my family has ever matched.

I spoke in a voice that even I could tell came out cold
enough to chill ice. “Without that man you so blithely call a figurehead, you
wouldn’t be standing here free to insult the Rhon. You’d be a Trader slave,
mister.”

Hilt snorted. “I always wonder if you people who spew out Imperial
propaganda have any comprehension of reality.”

Pulli spoke uneasily. “Maybe we shouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“That’s the whole
point.”
Hilt’s voice snapped. “We’re
so oppressed by the Rhon we’re afraid even to discuss them. All that’s allowed
is worship. Well, I don’t worship tyrants.”

“Why do you think the Rhon oppresses you?” I asked.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Hilt told me.

That was a good feat, considering I didn’t know yet. “What?”

“That the Rhon’s military machine ‘occupies’ planets for
their own good.”

“We don’t live in a gentle universe,” I said. “If we’re
going to survive we need strength, and that includes people and territory. If
we don’t get them first, the Traders or the Allieds will.”

“That’s one hell of a justification,” Hilt said. “What makes
it any more right for the Rhon to do the conquering instead of the Traders or
the Allieds?”

Rebeka, another woman in the group, spoke up. “The Allieds
don’t conquer anyone. They offer citizenship as a choice.”

I glanced at her. “And you think we ought to do the same?”

She spoke carefully. “Doesn’t it bother you that we’re
forced to follow laws made by conquerors who never gave us a choice?”

“You don’t think Imperial law is just?” I asked.

“You’re missing my point,” Rebeka said. “They took everything
away, even the name of our planet. We never had a choice.”

“To choose what?” Why was I so angry? “If Foreshires hadn’t
become part of the Skolian Imperialate, you would still be struggling to
survive right now instead of enjoying the affluence that lets you join hiking
clubs and spend your time strolling in meadows.”

Rebeka spoke quietly. “No, we weren’t rich before. But we
had the right to be ourselves.”

Hilt watched me. “Why is it so hard for you to comprehend
that people want responsibility for their own lives?”

“The Allieds have a luxury we don’t share.” Even I could
hear how bitter my voice sounded. “As long as we and the Traders claw at each
other’s throats, Earth is free to do as she pleases. So fine. Good for Earth.
If we ever adopted her practices it would kill us.”

“You’re certainly cynical,” Mika said.

Hilt snorted. “I’m not sure I believe the Traders are such a
big threat. What better evil than the Aristos could the Rhon conjure up to
divert attention from their own flaws?”

I felt my face go hot. “If you think the Traders are no
threat, you’re a fool.”

“Right,” Hilt said. “And now you’re going to spout off the
List of Aristo Evils. Come on, Soz. I mean, have you ever actually
seen
a
provider?”

I froze, the memories jumping into my mind: Tarque, kneeling
over me on his bed while I screamed and screamed and
screamed
—

“Leave her alone!”

Everyone spun around. It was Jarith who had spoken, the
youth from the music school.

The others stared at the usually soft-spoken musician.
Jarith reddened but he didn’t back down. “Stop it.”

“Why?” Hilt demanded.

Rebeka spoke to Hilt in a low voice. “He’s an empath.”

Hilt blinked at Jarith. Then he turned back to me. “What did
I say?”

I swallowed. “You asked me if I had ever seen a provider.
The answer is yes.”

Everyone went silent then. I had no intention of elaborating
and no one asked me to. The look on Jarith’s face had been enough to tell them
the details were better left unsaid.

Rebeka motioned at the far side of the hill, where the rest
of the group had started to walk again. “They’re leaving.”

So we followed. Conversations began again, fitfully at first
and then with more ease as they drifted to less volatile subjects. I stayed out
of it. I hadn’t felt much like talking before and now I just wanted to get out
of here. The worst of it was that they were right. People needed freedom to
thrive. But they were wrong about the Rhon. We had no more freedom than they.
We were locked in a war that left us no choices, neither the conquered nor the
conquerors.

Was I truly fool enough to believe Jaibriol could make a
difference? There was no solution. He was the one who would change. He would do
what he had to do to survive. He would become Highton. And I would watch,
hating myself for wanting to believe otherwise, hating myself for loving him.

I can’t bear this, I thought. My mind is going to implode.

Jarith dropped back to walk with me. “I’m sorry. About eavesdropping.”

“Eavesdropping?”

“Your image—of the Aristo.” He paled. “But it was so vivid.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I said. “I practically
shouted it at you.”

He didn’t probe, but I felt what he wanted to ask.
Was it
you on that bed?
I just shook my head, not wanting to pursue the subject,
and let him interpret the gesture however he wanted.

“I hope you’re not angry with the others,” he said. “They’re
just not used to hearing such a conservative line.”

“You think I’m conservative?”

He laughed. “Ultra.” A grimace chased across his face like a
cloud scudding over the sun. “Don’t worry about Hilt. He gives me a labor too.”

Translate last sentence from Jarith, I thought.

Slang, my spinal node answered. To give a labor’: to behave
in a confrontational manner.

I couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to give Jarith a
hard time about anything. “What for?” I asked.

“He says I’m apathetic. He thinks I ought to go out and
fight for what I believe in.” Jarith shrugged. “I guess I’m just not political.
I’d rather sing.”

I sighed. Here was this gentle youth with the face of an
angel and no political opinions. Pako couldn’t have found me a better companion
if I had programmed it to search the planet.

Right, I thought. What’s the problem, Soz? You can’t deal
with anyone who challenges you?

I gritted my teeth. I dealt with people who challenged me
all the time. All day long, every day, every year, every decade. I deserved a
rest.

You’re not resting, my inner voice answered. You’re hiding.

Shut up, I told it.

Jarith spoke again. “Some of us are going to a holomovie tonight.”
He hesitated. “Would you like to come?”

Gods. He was asking me for a date. At least, I thought that
was what he was doing. It had been so many years since I had socialized that
way, I wasn’t sure if I remembered what qualified as a date. Maybe when people
went together in a group it had some other name. Gang date? No, that sounded too
weird.

Who cared what it was called? What was wrong with me, that I
kept having conversations in my head?

“Yes,” I said. “I’d like to go.” I had little in common with
these people, but going to a movie with anyone right now was better than
returning to my empty apartment.

After we got back to the cafe and washed up, we strolled
through the park. Jarith came, as well as Hilt and Rebeka and a handful of the
other hikers, everyone wearing chiming shoes now instead of hiking boots. As
the sun set behind the hills, the horizon lit up with a spectacular red fire
and the sky above us turned a dusky bronze. The shining rings arched across it,
pale amber at their apex and shading into deeper hues lower down. At the western
horizon the rings were a rich crimson; in the east, where the shadow of
Foreshires fell across it, the arch looked like a mythical dragon had taken a
bite out of it. The edges of the bite were red, but the color darkened toward
the interior until it was completely black at the center.