Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [90]
Zan’nh recalled a time when he was much younger, a mere septar in rank. He had flown a small streamer on highly coordinated maneuvers, soaring with forty-eight others scattered to the fringes of a bright nebula sea illuminated by a cluster of hot young stars. He had swooped through a knot of unexpectedly ionized gas, which scrambled his navigation systems. At stardrive speeds, he had gone into a spin, separated from the other ships in his group.
By the time his engines burned out, Zan’nh had had no idea what his bearings were. Lost and alone, he’d managed to reroute control systems to get his communications transmitter functioning again. He had broadcast his situation and called for help but did not know his location. Adar Kori’nh had sent reassurances to the young septar, talking confidently while he dispersed rescue teams as far apart as their own thism connections would allow.
Zan’nh could do nothing but wait. He had drifted alone in the darkness, feeling the mental strands unraveling around him, growing fainter, fraying. Time passed with infinite slowness.
Through his comm systems, he could hear the conversations, but saw no one. Kori’nh kept talking to him, demanding that he hold on, and Zan’nh had followed orders. He had endured, dredging strength from within himself until miraculously one of the searching streamers stumbled upon him. Other ships swooped in, clustering closer, and Zan’nh had been able to feel their comforting presence, like a mother wrapping blankets around a chilled infant.
Zan’nh had never forgotten that loneliness, nor had he forgotten that Adar Kori’nh had saved him through his strength and confidence. The memory of the ordeal would help him through this situation as well.
But his circumstances were now reversed. He knew people were all around him yet could sense none of them, as if he stood behind a glass barrier, able to see a feast but forbidden to partake of it. The Hyrillka Designate’s tightly knit society had made Zan’nh a permanent outsider—unless he willingly joined. And that was something he would not do...
The Adar paced around his chamber, once a fabulous suite in the Designate’s palace. Pery’h, the legitimate Designate-in-waiting, had lived here, intending to take over from his uncle. But that was before the crazed Designate had torn his people from the true web of thism. In resisting, Pery’h had become a hero, and a martyr. Zan’nh could imagine the loneliness Pery’h had felt, not understanding what was happening...
He wondered what Pery’h’s last thoughts had been as the guards dragged him out of this room, gave him one last chance to join the corrupted rebellion. When he refused, they killed him. Pery’h’s agony and despair had thrummed across the soul-threads all the way to Ildira. That was how Mage-Imperator Jora’h knew what had happened.
If only Zan’nh could send the same sort of message...But Pery’h had been a purebred son of the noble kith. His connection with his father was stronger, clearer. Zan’nh was merely a half-breed, and while the linkage was firm, he did not have the clarity of thought or the skill to send a detailed explanation to the Mage-Imperator. He hoped he wouldn’t have to be slain to find a way to send the necessary information.
Even so, Jora’h had to know that something terrible had happened, that the Adar was in great distress. He must have sensed the deaths of all those crewmen aboard the warliner obliterated by a blast from treacherous Thor’h. The pleasure mates had taken great delight in informing him that three scout cutters spying for the Mage-Imperator had been captured in the system and subsumed. Jora’h was still cut off.
Zan’nh spun when he heard two armored guards march up to the doorway. They were former Solar Navy crewmen; he recognized them from Qul Fan’nh’s warliner. The men stared at him without any emotion. The Adar wondered if they’d been given orders