spoke it, but it terrified them all. The web was growing out of control. If the Dyad didn't find a solution, the mesh would collapse under the sheer weight of its successand kill the Dyad.
3
Bliss
The hospital viewing room looked the same today as every other day Soz had visited. The sofa was along the wall to the right of the entrance, with an armchair beyond and another to the left of the door. The furniture was upholstered in subdued forest hues, and abstract holoart swirled on the walls. The lamps gave enough light to see by, but nothing bright or jarring. It was all very calming, but Soz didn't feel the least bit soothed. Every time she saw what the Traders had done to her brother, she wanted to kill someone. Aristos, specifically.
She went to the window that filled the top half of the wall
opposite the door. In the room beyond, Althor lay on his back, on a floater, a bed with a rudimentary intelligence. It could react to tension in his body, ease muscle strain, massage him, anything. None of it helped.
He was a huge man, over two meters tall, seven-foot-seven, with a muscular physique and metallic gold skin. He had been a force to reckon with, a powerhouse. Now he lay unmoving, his body gaunt and wasted, his face sallow. She had spent hours watching the rise and fall of his chest. It killed her to know he would never awake. Surely someone could discover a new technology that could return his life, his brain, his memories.
Soz thought of her brother Kelric, nine years old. He looked so much like Althor, and he, too, longed to become a pilot. How many brothers would the war take from her? She thought of her sisters, Chaniece and Aniece, her closest friends, though they constantly challenged her view of the universe. They had never fathomed her fascination with all things military. And what of Kurj? Fighting the Traders all his life had hardened him beyond healing. How many people she loved would have their lives demolished by the Aris-tos, the arrogant sadists who never suffered themselves?
The door hummed behind her. Soz jumped and turned around as a man entered. He was Althor's age, in his early twenties. Well-tended blond hair brushed his shoulders. He had blue eyes and chiseled features, extraordinarily handsome. Soz always felt like a mess in his presence, drab in her cadet's jumpsuit, with her hair curling haphazardly around her face.
He hesitated when he saw her. Then he came to the window and bowed. "My greetings, Your Highness."
Soz inclined her head stiffly. "Chad." She hesitated. "Call me Soz, please." She had little desire to offer him that familiarity, but she didn't want anyone treating her like royalty. At the academy, she was a cadet like everyone else.
Surprise sparked in his mind, strong enough that she felt it despite his carefully constructed mental barriers. He nodded formally. "Soz."
They stood together at the window watching Althor. After a moment Chad said, "He's always the same. Every day I come."
She couldn't hide her bitterness. "Maybe if you had come back to him sooner, you could have seen him alive."
Chad exhaled, and Soz immediately regretted the words, but it was too late to take them back. Her anger at Chad still simmered.
So they stood, neither speaking.
Finally Chad turned to her. "We should talk."
Soz faced him and crossed her arms. "Why?"
"We're both grieving for him. We shouldn't hurt each other, too."
Soz wished she could let her anger go. But if she weakened, if she let down her defenses even a bit, the grief would overwhelm her. "You gave up my brother for drugs. How can I forgive you for that?"
He stared at her. "Do you have any idea how addictive phorine is for an empath?"
"It doesn't matter." Yes, she knew. Addictive was a massive understatement. The stronger the psion, the worse the dependence. They called it node-bliss. She sensed Chad's mind even through his mental shields; he was a powerful empath, probably also a telepath, able to pick up unusually
3
Bliss
The hospital viewing room looked the same today as every other day Soz had visited. The sofa was along the wall to the right of the entrance, with an armchair beyond and another to the left of the door. The furniture was upholstered in subdued forest hues, and abstract holoart swirled on the walls. The lamps gave enough light to see by, but nothing bright or jarring. It was all very calming, but Soz didn't feel the least bit soothed. Every time she saw what the Traders had done to her brother, she wanted to kill someone. Aristos, specifically.
She went to the window that filled the top half of the wall
opposite the door. In the room beyond, Althor lay on his back, on a floater, a bed with a rudimentary intelligence. It could react to tension in his body, ease muscle strain, massage him, anything. None of it helped.
He was a huge man, over two meters tall, seven-foot-seven, with a muscular physique and metallic gold skin. He had been a force to reckon with, a powerhouse. Now he lay unmoving, his body gaunt and wasted, his face sallow. She had spent hours watching the rise and fall of his chest. It killed her to know he would never awake. Surely someone could discover a new technology that could return his life, his brain, his memories.
Soz thought of her brother Kelric, nine years old. He looked so much like Althor, and he, too, longed to become a pilot. How many brothers would the war take from her? She thought of her sisters, Chaniece and Aniece, her closest friends, though they constantly challenged her view of the universe. They had never fathomed her fascination with all things military. And what of Kurj? Fighting the Traders all his life had hardened him beyond healing. How many people she loved would have their lives demolished by the Aris-tos, the arrogant sadists who never suffered themselves?
The door hummed behind her. Soz jumped and turned around as a man entered. He was Althor's age, in his early twenties. Well-tended blond hair brushed his shoulders. He had blue eyes and chiseled features, extraordinarily handsome. Soz always felt like a mess in his presence, drab in her cadet's jumpsuit, with her hair curling haphazardly around her face.
He hesitated when he saw her. Then he came to the window and bowed. "My greetings, Your Highness."
Soz inclined her head stiffly. "Chad." She hesitated. "Call me Soz, please." She had little desire to offer him that familiarity, but she didn't want anyone treating her like royalty. At the academy, she was a cadet like everyone else.
Surprise sparked in his mind, strong enough that she felt it despite his carefully constructed mental barriers. He nodded formally. "Soz."
They stood together at the window watching Althor. After a moment Chad said, "He's always the same. Every day I come."
She couldn't hide her bitterness. "Maybe if you had come back to him sooner, you could have seen him alive."
Chad exhaled, and Soz immediately regretted the words, but it was too late to take them back. Her anger at Chad still simmered.
So they stood, neither speaking.
Finally Chad turned to her. "We should talk."
Soz faced him and crossed her arms. "Why?"
"We're both grieving for him. We shouldn't hurt each other, too."
Soz wished she could let her anger go. But if she weakened, if she let down her defenses even a bit, the grief would overwhelm her. "You gave up my brother for drugs. How can I forgive you for that?"
He stared at her. "Do you have any idea how addictive phorine is for an empath?"
"It doesn't matter." Yes, she knew. Addictive was a massive understatement. The stronger the psion, the worse the dependence. They called it node-bliss. She sensed Chad's mind even through his mental shields; he was a powerful empath, probably also a telepath, able to pick up unusually
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