Diamond Star by Catherine Asaro
That felt like a blast of cold air. "You mean the Traders?"
"That's right. Did you know they call themselves the Eubian Concord? It's Skolians who say Traders, supposedly because the Eubians sell people." Ricki waved her glass at Staver. "He's pissed off."
It didn't surprise Del. He didn't want to be on the same planet as a Trader band.
"I don't know what the hell is 'Kyle technology,' " Orin was saying. "Some mumbo-jumbo about telepathy."
"Kyle space is just another universe," Staver said. "Except your thoughts determine where you are there. If you think about Pittsburg, then you're close to everyone else who's thinking about Pittsburg even if in our universe they're across the galaxy."
Orin snorted a laugh. "I think, therefore I move?" He looked across the suite at Ricki and winked. "If that were true, I wouldn't be here, Staver dear. I'd be over there on the couch."
"Sorry," Staver said dryly. "You don't go into Kyle space. Only your thoughts. You can think about her all you want, but you can't touch."
"Too bad," Orin said.
Del was simmering, but before he could tell Orin to go flip himself off, Ricki laid her hand on his arm. "Let it go, babe," she murmured. "He's just spouting."
He gritted his teeth, caught off guard by the intensity of his reaction. After all, she had to put up with those news holos of women kissing him at the Chicago concert. He needed to unsnarl his responses to her. He had thought he was incapable of anything except a casual love affair, but he was no longer the kid who could convince himself he didn't want more.
"I've heard about this Kyle space," Orin said. "But if you can't go into it, what's the point?"
"Think about it," Staver said. "If you talk to someone with a Kyle link, you're right next to them, even if in our universe you're on different planets. That's how we get instant communication across such huge distances. Our laws of physics don't apply there, so the speed of light has no meaning."
Orin shook his head. "Your Kyle space has no substance. No physical evidence."
"You want evidence?" Staver said. "Interstellar civilization as we know it wouldn't exist if we didn't have fast communications. We live a real-time existence. We could talk right now to someone in another star system if we had access to the Kyle-mesh. Imagine if it took months, years, even centuries to send a message."
"Starships carry messages," Orin said. "And they get around light speed. I don't understand the physics, but at least it can be demonstrated in the real world."
Mac spoke up. "The physics is pretty straightforward. You add an imaginary component to your speed. It gets rid of the singularity in the relativistic gamma function. Ships go around the speed of light by detouring into the complex plane."
Ricki made an exasperated noise. "Oh, well, that sounds so simple, Mac, I can't imagine why I didn't think of it myself."
Del laughed softly. "The Varento starship drive. It'll send you out of this world."
Her smile turned sultry. "You bet, babe."
"Sure, ships can carry messages," Staver told Orin. "That still takes time. You can't communicate instantaneously that way."
Orin raised his glass to Staver. "If this Kyle-mesh was so important, my people would have developed one, too."
Staver gave him an unimpressed look. "You can't."
"Sure we can." Orin finished his drink with one swallow.
"How?" Staver asked. He looked genuinely curious. "To use Kyle space, you need psions. To create, power, and maintain a mesh in Kyle space, you need Ruby psions. They're the only ones strong enough. It would fry anyone else's brain."
"Oh, come on," Orin said. "You believe this Ruby Dynasty has some magical power? They've really put one over on your people."
Del wanted to punch the exec. And what the hell did "put one over" mean? Mac was watching him from a nearby chair, a warning in his gaze. He wanted Del to stay out of the argument.
"The Ruby Dynasty are the strongest known psions," Staver said. "It's genetic, a recessive mutation that involves a whole slew of genes. Ruby psions have every one of those genes paired. Only them."
"Whatever," Orin said. "We'll make our own Ruby Dynasty."
Del would have laughed if that hadn't hurt so much. The Skolian Assembly had been trying for ages to make more Ruby psions. Never mind that they had almost destroyed Del's family in the process.
"It's not that easy," Staver said. "Attempts to create them in the lab don't work. You can't clone them, either. Our geneticists are still figuring out the why."
"I think you Skolians made this up," Orin said, "so you could all claim to have ultra powers."
Staver regarded him with exasperation. "We don't 'all' have anything. Ruby psions are practically extinct. The Ruby Dynasty are the only ones. Quite frankly, our government ought to lock them up. Keep them just to power the Kyle web."
Del's words burst out before he had time to think. "What, make them slaves to the government, is that it?"
Mac and Ricki both shot Del warning glances. Del didn't need his "practically extinct" powers to know it was because Mac didn't want him to reveal himself, and Ricki didn't want him to offend the person who had just bought the rights to distribute Del's music in an interstellar market.
"The Traders are the ones who keep slaves," Staver told Del curtly. "You Allieds have no idea. They put on that fake, shiny disguise, and you fall for it every time."
Del had forgotten Staver thought he was an Allied. It was so odd to hear his own thoughts reflected back to him, he forgot his anger. Curious, he said, "How would you prove it's false?"
Staver looked ready to do battle, but at Del's question he paused and spoke more calmly. "It's a good question. Taking an Allied delegation to the labs that train providers would work. Except of course the Aristos would never let that happen."
"Providers?" Orin finished off his whiskey. "What is that?"
"Sex slaves," Ricki purred.
Orin grinned at her. "What do you know about that?"
Del gritted his teeth until it hurt, distracting him from his urge to hit Orin. Beating up Prime-Nova execs would be stupid, but if the guy leered at Ricki one more time, Del couldn't swear he'd be responsible for his actions. And damn it, Ricki had baited Orin that time.
"You think it's sexy?" Staver demanded. "This is no game. Often it has nothing to do with sex. Aristos torture providers. For their entire lives. They don't care who they hurt, who they destroy, who they enslave. They think they're entitled to make people scream in agony."
Ricki's face paled. "That's sick."
Staver's voice sounded clenched. "Very, very sick."
"So how is making the Ruby Dynasty slaves to the Imperialate better?" Del demanded. "What the hell purpose would that serve?"
Staver looked uncomfortable. "We need the Rubies."
"Need what?" Del asked. "It takes only two people to create the Kyle-mesh. The Dyad. Two very protected people, along with their heirs, who are also protected, I'm sure by shields, implants, guards, and who knows what else. How is locking up the Ruby Dynasty going to solve anything?" He wanted to keep going, to shout his frustration and anger, but if he didn't stop now, he might say too much. Taking a breath, he fell quiet.
Staver spoke carefully, as if he finally realized that even here his words could have ramifications. "What if something happens to the Rubies? A lot of them died in the war, including the previous Imperator and her father, who were both in the Triad that powered the Kyle web. That's why we have a Dyad now. We have a new Imperator, but no one to take the father's place."
Del felt as if Staver had punched him in the gut. He was supposed to have taken his father's place. "They can't add a third person to the Dyad because they're afraid it will overload the powerlink and kill the two already in it." Realizing how that would sound, he added, "That's what I've heard." Even if they could risk adding a third Ruby, it couldn't be him; after the brain damage he had suffered in cryo, it would kill him to use his abilities at that high a level. If the Traders
"Del, come on," Ricki said with an indulgent look. "I'm sure it's much more complicated." Her gaze was anything but indulgent; she was warning him off the argument.
Staver leaned forward. "It's easy for you here on Earth to criticize. The Skolian Imperialate protects you. But if we fall, you're next."
Del didn't miss the irony, that Staver's words were almost exactly what he had told Mac.
"You know," Mac said with a slight laugh, "this conversation is getting intense, don't you think?"
"I think we should drink to Del Arden." Ricki lifted her glass, and the gold liquid sparkled. "To the latest number one sensation from Prime-Nova!"
Everyone raised their glasses. Del lifted his, too, but he no longer felt like celebrating. He wanted to withdraw from his "party" and submerge in the bliss-node Casper had sold him. Half a million dollars, but it was worth it, not only for the release it gave him, but because it let him remake his life into anything he wanted. Right now he craved its welcoming embrace, for only that could banish the Trader nightmares Staver had laid bare.
"But why?" Del's mother asked. "Of all the things you could do with your life, why this?" She was standing by a window, her skin shimmering in the light of the two suns.
Seeing her stirred up so many painful memories, but also many Del treasured. So often he had watched her stand by the window that way, smiling with welcome, frowning with parental censure, beaming with motherly pride, or pensive when she was lost in thought, bathed by the light of the suns Valdor and Aldan.
The bliss-node could create a simulation as complex as a parent who approved of him, yet it had balked at something as simple as putting in two suns. It had informed Del that if the suns circled each other that closely, their gravitational forces would throw Lyshriol out of its orbit. I know that, Del had said. It's not a natural system. Astronomical engineers created it five thousand years ago. Yeah, someday we'll be in trouble if we don't learn to stop it, but for now, the system exists. The aggravating virt still objected, saying no one could move planets. He couldn't believe a mesh code was arguing with him. When he told it that no, the Ruby Empire did have that technology, but they lost it when the empire collapsed, the flaming node didn't believe him. At that point, Del had told it to just shut the hell up and make the blasted sim.
So today he spoke to his mother in the simulated sunlight of his home. "How can I explain what inspires me?" he asked her. "It's like trying to capture the mist. I only know I was meant to do this."
"I felt the same way when I was a ballet dancer," she said. "Your grandparents worried all the time."
"But they didn't stop you." He willed her to understand. To some extent, the node created its simulations using his memories and knowledge, and he was still learning how to influence the results. "I know my singing isn't as cultured. But it means as much to me as your dancing meant to you."
His mother sighed, glistening in the light. She looked like a work of art. But Del had always thought her beauty was more inside, the way she had sung him lullabies when he was small, tended his cuts and bruises, and stood up for him when his teachers claimed he "didn't apply himself."
He's doing his best, she had told them. He tries. But he really can't read. So they gave him tests. Test after test after test. And finally they said yes, his brain had neurological differences. He saw two hieroglyphs as different unless they were written exactly alike, with the same color, size, texture, even in the same place. Letters in languages with alphabets were even worse. They said sometimes he identified parts of himself with the images, so that when a letter changed, it forced him to change himself to identify it. He knew, logically, it was the same, but his mind wouldn't accept it. Both his brother Eldrin and his father had similar reactions to written language. Eldrin eventually learned to read, but neither Del nor his father had ever managed.
"You understood about my reading," Del said. "Can't you understand about this?"
"I don't know if I ever will," she said gently. "But I see what it means to you. Your creativity is a gift, and where it takes you, that's where you should go."
A sense of lightening came to Del, as if a weight lifted off him. He knew it was false, only a simulation tailored to make him happy, but it felt so real.
His voice caught. "You don't know what it means to me to hear you say that."
Her smile lit her face. "I'm glad. But you have to go."
"What?" His simulated people weren't supposed to kick him out of the virt.
"You set this session for three hours," she said. "It's up."
"Already?"
"Already." She raised her hand. "Be well." She faded and the world went black.
Del lifted off the helmet and stared around his hotel room. He had tears on his face. He felt ridiculous, crying over his fantasy world. Yet he wanted nothing more than to go back. In the virt, he could relive his life and do everything right. He would never take the tau-kickers, never go swimming that night, never seduce all those girls. Didn't any of his granite-headed family realize he would have agreed to marry Devon Majda? If he couldn't sing, at least he could have been the consort of an interstellar queen. He wouldn't have had to live with the crushing loneliness that only the taus kicked away. Who knew, maybe she would have even accepted his music.
Del rubbed his eyes. The console said it was four a.m. He peeled off the suit and stumbled to his bed. Sprawling on the floater, he sank into a fitful, exhausted sleep.
When the first kid climbed on the stage, Del almost tripped over him. He was singing "Rubies," spinning around, when suddenly Cameron appeared in front of him. Del jerked back, losing his place in the song as Cameron leaned over a youth who was staggering toward Del. The Marine literally picked up the fellow and dumped him back in the audience.
In the time it took Cameron to move one person, three others jumped on the stage and started to dance. Del kept singing as he tried to avoid the people gyrating around him. It was crazy, with the audience overflowing around the stage, everyone contorting, jumping, and twirling, their bodies flashing with holographic tattoos, glitter paint, and swirling washes of light.
Two security bots clanked out. Roughly humanoid in shape, with blue legs and white torsos, they vaguely resembled humans in jeans and shirts. Even as Cameron and the two bots hauled the dancers back into the audience, two girls climbed up and headed for Del. Still singing, he backed away from them, unsure what to do.
Cameron caught one of the girls, but he was so busy being gentle with the pretty waif that her buxom companion made it to Del and threw her arms around him. With a grin, he yanked her closer and kissed her right there. The audience shrieked, and their excitement spun higher.
As Del drew back, smiling at the girl, Cameron gently pulled her away. Del started to sing again as Cameron and the bots moved downstage, trying to keep the audience where they belonged.
Mac's tense voice sounded in Del's ear. "Get off the stage. This is getting out of hand."
Still singing, Del looked toward Mac, who was standing in the wings, and shook his head. When Mac swore at him, Del turned away, then bent down low and jumped high. The audience screamed their approval. Everything was overflowing, their reactions, his song, the emotions. It was gloriously out of control.
"Del, I mean it!" Mac shouted. "Get out of there."
As more people rushed the stage, discordant emotions fractured Del's euphoria. Anne and Jud wanted him to stop, but Randall liked the commotion. What hit Del hardest was Cameron's reaction. The stoic Marine, the giant who never got flustered, was scared for Del's safety.
Del jumped to the last word of the song and held the note, his signal that he was ready to finish. Jud crashed to a crescendo and Anne added her signature cymbal roll across the morphing plates of flexi-metal.
"You've all been great," Del shouted to the audience. He ran offstage as he always did at the end of a concert even though they had only done half their set. Anne and Jud s
Jud stopped in front of Mac. "We have to get the equipment off," he said urgently, out of breath.
Mac nodded and spun around to the techs. "Go. The AIs can deactivate the instruments."
"No!" Randall yelled. "What's wrong with you all? They're getting into it. That's what we want."
Del agreed. He felt as if he had been cut off in the middle of a breath. He wanted to get back out there.
"Randall, look." Anne pointed to the far edge of the stage.
Following her gaze, Del felt the blood drain from his face. The stage was sagging under the weight of everyone clambering onto it. If they didn't get the audience, bots, and equipment off soon, they would all be caught in a collapse. People could be injured, even killed.
"You all go to the green room," Mac told the band. "I'll come down as soon as we have everything here secured."
"Hell, no," Jud said. "I'm not letting you send Bonnie out there while you coddle me." With that, he ran back onto the stage, toward the techs who were taking apart his morpher. Anne sped over to help with her drums and morph engine. Randall made an exasperated noise, but he strode after her.
Del started out. "I should help."
"Get back here," Mac said.
Del stiffened and kept going.
"Cameron, I need you here," Mac said into the audio-comm that both Cameron and Del wore.
Del stopped and turned with a jerk. "Mac, cut it out."
Cameron came up to Del, disheveled but calm.
"Take Del to the green room," Mac said. "If he protests, carry him."
"What!" Del stared at him in disbelief. When Cameron took his arm, he yanked it away, then whirled around and strode onto the stage. Cameron would leave him alone if they were in full view of the audience.
Or maybe not. Del had only gone a few paces when Cameron grabbed him from behind and hefted Del up, with one arm under Del's knees and the other behind his back.