Excerpt

"All we know, really, is that six thousand years ago, an alien race kidnapped humans from Earth, stranded them on some planet, and disappeared." My ancestors had never figured out the point of that bizarre exercise, seeing as their kidnappers never told them why.

The displaced humans had had nothing but the ruined starships left behind by their abductors. They eventually used the libraries in those vessels to develop star travel and establish the Ruby Empire, an interstellar civilization. The empire fell after only a few centuries, though, stranding its colonies. It took thousands of years for my ancestors to recover space flight, but they still managed it before Earth. In Earth's twenty-first century, when her people finally attained the stars, they got one hell of a jolt. We were already here, busily building empires. We and the Allieds had intermingled since then, until now, less than two centuries later, it was hard to believe we had been separated for millennia. But the differences were there, deep under the surface. It would be a long time before we trusted each other.

"Rhon worked with the descendants of the Ruby Dynasty, which had ruled the Ruby Empire." Rex said. "He was trying to bring back the Kyle traits that had made them empaths and telepaths. That's why people call members of the Ruby Dynasty 'the Rhon.' It refers to their Kyle rating. It's too high to quantify."

"I thought Rhon was their name," Tiller said.

"Their family name is Skolia." Rex spoke wryly. "That's why we're the Skolian Imperialate. They may only be titular rulers, but they're still our royal family."

Tiller rubbed his chin. "So Rhon selected for empathy and got Skolias, and he selected for pain resistance and got Aristos?"

"He didn't mean to create the Aristos," I said. "It's what you would call an unfortunate side-effect." Very unfortunate, as in one of the worst catastrophes in human history.

"I still don't get it," Tiller said. "What do the Traders want with empaths?"

I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to think about it. But he needed to know. "An Aristo's brain only picks up emotions caused by pain. To decrease their sensitivity to it, the brain sends the signals to its pleasure centers. It makes the Aristo feel good. More than good. It's ecstasy." I had to stop myself from gritting my teeth. "They're a bunch of sadists. They get off on torturing people."

Tiller's face paled. "But why empaths?"

I was having trouble breathing. A fan in the wall whirred, with a hiccup that grated on my nerves. "We send stronger signals. The stronger the empath, the—the more the Aristo—enjoys …" My fists clenched and my words balled into knots.

Tiller waited. But neither Rex nor I continued. Finally Tiller traced his finger through a winged icon above his screen. "I've sent a copy of your report to the Chief." He shifted in his seat. "But unless this man breaks a law, we can't do much."

"Just be careful where you go," I said. "Stay at home or here for the next few days."

"All right." He looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

After we left Tiller's office, we headed to the lobby. I stopped before we had gone far, though. "Rex, I'll meet you at the Inn."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just forgot to tell Tiller something."

He touched my cheek, his finger lingering. "Soz …"

His uncharacteristic touch startled me. "I'm all right."

"You're sure?"

"Sure. I'm great."

He brushed a curl of my hair out of my eyes. "I'll see you later, yes?"

Why was he looking at me with that strange, tender look? "Of course." It wasn't like I was going anywhere.

After we split up, I went back and found Tiller's door open. He was sitting on the edge of his desk reading a book.

"Tiller?" I said.

He looked up, his pleased surprise lightening my mood like a gust of cool air on a sweltering day. "Did you forget something?"

"No." I came over to him. "I thought you wanted me to come back."

He winced. "Am I that easy to read?"

I smiled. "Only to another empath."

"I was just thinking—" His voice gentled. "It took a lot for you to come here."

"All we did was talk."

"Something hurt you, and our talk stirred it up."

"I'm fine. Really."

"I wanted to say thanks, that's all." He pointed to the pen-sized computer on his armchair. "And for that. With a record of two high-ranking Imperial military officers saying I'm an empath, I might convince a grant committee at the university to sponsor my Kyle testing."

"Well. Good." I didn't know what else to say. I was used to people speeding in the other direction when I came around. Thanks wasn't a word I had much experience with.

"Here." Tiller handed me his book.

I held it awkwardly, wondering what do. The book was old style, bound in soft cloth the color of ivory, with parchment pages inside instead of a holoscreen. My translator gave the title as Verses on a Windowpane, written in English.

"It's beautiful," I said.

"Keep it. As a thank you gift."

A gift? This Allied citizen who didn't know me was giving me a gift simply for talking to him. For some reason my eyes were wet. Block, I thought. But the psicon didn't flash.

Night had folded its cooling darkness around the city by the time I headed back to the hotel. I took speedwalks that bordered the streets, avoiding the nervoplex. I didn't want to feel what it would tell me about myself. I already knew. I had lied to Rex and Tiller. I wasn't fine. My mind had started to replay that scene, the one I wanted to forget, the one that had lived in my nightmares for so many years.

Ten years ago, I had been walking along a dirt path on Tams, for all appearances a normal citizen going about my business. A flycar had hummed by me, then stopped and backed up. In slow motion, I saw it happen again and again; Kryx Tarque, the Aristo governor, leaning out to look at me, lifting his long finger while his lips formed words: That one. I want that one.

That one. Me. Sauscony Valdoria.

I had run. But even a Jagernaut couldn't outrun six armed soldiers plus an Aristo in a flycar. When they caught me, I faced a decision that haunted my memories: should I fight? I wanted to hurt them the way I knew Tarque planned to hurt me. But it would give away my military training. They would know they had someone far more interesting than a Tams citizen. They would investigate until they discovered my identity, not only my military rank but also the civilian title I carried. And then my life would become a nightmare.

Unless I waited until the odds were better, I would have no chance of escaping. So I fought like a frightened civilian instead of a Jagernaut. Tarque found it amusing. He took me to his estate in the hills and had me as his prisoner for three weeks. Late into one of those long Tams nights I finally managed to work free of the restraints he had used to tie my wrists to the bed.

Then I strangled him.

Rex had been trying for that entire three weeks to infiltrate the estate. He found me after I fled the house, when I was running across a field, my mind screaming from aftershocks of the pain. He caught me, held me tight, so tight, as if he feared I would vanish. His voice shook while he told me, again and again, that I would be all right.

But I wasn't all right. Tarque had been the antithesis of an empath, a being with a mental cavity where his capacity for compassion should have been. Sadist and empath, parasite and host: his mind had been the negative of mine. When he concentrated on me, I fell into his emptiness, filling it for him, connecting us in a bond he craved even more than orgasm. He spoke in soft, loving murmurs while I screamed and screamed and screamed …

Rex and I left Tams that night. I spent only a few days in the hospital; Tarque hadn't wanted his provider scarred, so my physical wounds were minor. But my doctors told me to see a heartbender. When I didn't go, my CO ordered it. So I went and told the heartbender what she wanted to hear; I am, after all, an empath. In her report she said I would be all right, that I just needed time to heal.

As for my true feelings about what happened—if they had haunted me for ten years, that was my business and mine alone.