The Bronze Skies Page 2

  In my first job for them, I’d brought home one of their sons, Prince Dayjarind Kazair. Dayj had wanted more for his life than seclusion. He ran away and was snatched by an Undercity crime boss, who probably would have sold him if I hadn’t blasted her to smithereens with my pulse revolver. It had taken Dayj nearly dying for his family to accept that he needed his freedom, but incredibly, they finally gave him their blessing to attend university. The other Majda men were living in seclusion, either with a wife or at the Majda palace. Either that, or they were doing whatever the hell they wanted after they defied six thousand years of tradition and left home to live what the rest of us considered a normal life.

  “Normal indeed,” the woman murmured. “As normal as a prince of the Majdas can be.”

  I froze. I hadn’t said a word. She couldn’t have heard my thought. Yes, Majdas were empaths. Most nobility were, as if they didn’t already have enough freaking advantages. I’d learned to guard my mind, besides which, empaths sensed moods, not thoughts. I strengthened my mental barriers anyway, imagining my mind locked within a fortress. That image spurred my neurons to fire in patterns that would make my mind a blank to her. I hoped.

  “Who would you like me to find?” I asked.

  She met my gaze. “A killer. She has come to Raylicon.”

  “You’re part of the murder investigation?” She didn’t look like a detective, but you never knew.

  “Actually,” she said. “I’m the witness.”

  That made no sense. A murder witness wouldn’t ask the Majdas to hire me to help her find the killer. No, wait, they might do exactly that if this was within the family, a murder committed by a Majda and witnessed by another family member. Of course they wanted it kept secret. They had their own police force, and its captain liked me about as much as she liked reptilian dung-bugs, but she had to put up with me. I’d found Prince Dayj after her people failed, and the Majdas have long memories.

  “I can solve the case discretely,” I assured her. “I’ll need all the details.”

  “You’ll have them.” She paused. “It involves a military officer and the Assembly.”

  Ho! Had one of the Majda queens murdered an elected official? It could pulverize the uneasy détente between the Ruby Dynasty and our elected government. Should it ever come to a challenge between those two powers, I had no doubt the Majdas would throw their support behind the dynasty. If one of them had committed murder, I could be landing in a royal shit storm.

  I spoke carefully. “Who died, and why do you believe it was murder?”

  “The victim was a man named Tavan Ganz, an aide to the Assembly Counselor of Finance.” She took a breath. “I believe it is murder because I saw him die.”

  Good gods. No wonder she seemed on edge.

  I focused my mind, sending a directed thought. Max, are you getting all of this conversation?

  Yes, I’m recording, Max thought. He was an EI, or Evolving Intelligence. He “lived” in my wrist gauntlets, his processors embedded in the leather. Bio-threads networked my body, and my gauntlets linked to those threads through sockets in my wrists. Max sent signals along the threads to bio-electrodes in my brain, causing my neurons to fire, which I interpreted as his thoughts.

  I used stronger thoughts to communicate with him; otherwise, he couldn’t detect them. Make sure you get everything.

  It’s difficult, he answered. Signals designed to disrupt EI activity saturate this area.

  Do the best you can. Also, do you recognize this woman?

  I have no data on her. Shall I search the interstellar meshes?

  Yes, do that. Our exchange barely took a second.

  I turned toward the woman. “I’ll need everything you can tell me about the death. Even the smallest details can be significant.”

  “You will have it all, just as soon as you have clearance.”

  “Clearance for what?” That sounded like a military matter rather than a private one.

  She spoke quietly. “The killer is an Imperial Jagernaut Secondary. She shot Tavan Ganz with a jumbler gun keyed to her brain waves.”

  I stared at her. That couldn’t be true. Jagernauts were lethal, yes, the most versatile human weapons Imperial Space Command could produce, their bodies enhanced with biotech. They also lived by the most demanding code of honor in the military. They weren’t capable of committing murder, or so ISC claimed, only fighting in service to the Imperialate.

  “Ma’am,” I said. “Are you sure it was a murder and not part of a military operation?”

  Her gaze never wavered. “Yes, I’m sure it was murder. Tavan Ganz stopped her from reaching the office of the Finance Counselor. That was when she shot him.”

  “Where did it happen? And when?”

  “At my job, a few days ago.”

  So she was in the financial end of the Majda empire. “You work with the Finance Councilor?”

  “Partially. I haven’t been at the job long, only a couple of years.” She paused. “Major, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you more unless you have clearance.”

  “I understand.” It sounded like a mess.

  “Are you willing to take the case?” she asked.

  I could refuse. It would weaken my relations with the palace, however. Besides, this case sounded interesting. “I’ll take it.” Remembering myself, I added the expected words of esteem. “I’m gratified by this confidence the House of Majda has shown in my humble abilities.”

  “Not so humble, from what I’ve heard.” She smiled easily, with none of the aristocratic edge that characterized the other Majdas. “Thank you, Major. Someone will be in touch with you.”

  With that, I was dismissed.

  I sat sprawled on the tastefully luxuriant sofa in the tastefully spacious living room of the tastefully exorbitant skyscraper where the Majdas had set me up. It just oozed taste. Despite all that, I loved the place, because the entire wall opposite the sofa consisted of a window. A panorama of the Vanished Sea spread out far below the tower, deep in purple shadows, a spectacular contrast to the red sunset that blazed on the horizon. I’d spent my life underground, denied the surface until my sixteenth birthday, that day I defied the unwritten code of Cries, walked out of the Undercity, and enlisted.

  The Majdas let me live in this penthouse in return for my agreeing to stay on Raylicon to work for them. Of course my living in one of their properties made it easier for them to spy on my actions. We played a constant game where I blocked their sensors, they counteracted my blocks, I counteracted their countermeasures, and around and around. In the end, they never could outdo my blocks.

  “Max, do your sensors pick up any bugs?” I asked. I preferred to converse aloud, now that we were alone, but I was always careful.

  “Nothing.” His voice rose out of my gauntlet comm. “I’ll let you know if I do.”

  “I don’t get this job,” I said. “Why hire me? The Jagernaut Forces have their own internal affairs investigators. I can’t see them asking an outsider for help, especially a former army officer. I never had any connection to the J-Forces.”

  “Perhaps that’s why. They want a fresh perspective.”

  “Maybe.” I wasn’t convinced. “And who the hell is that woman?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t found anything about her on the interstellar meshes.”

  Of course she was in the meshes. Everyone was. You couldn’t go off grid anymore, not unless you were some deep undercover agent, and she hardly struck me as the type. Then again, that could make her an effective operative. “You think she’s a spy?”

  “No,” Max said. “I saw no indication of military training in her posture, attitude, or anything else about her.”

  “That could just mean she’s good at what she does.”

  “Maybe.”

  So he didn’t believe it, either. I knew he didn’t have genuine emotions, but he had become so good at simulating doubt, I couldn’t tell the difference. “I don’t think she’s a Majda. But why would they associate with some
one who is so far off the grid, you can’t even find her picture or name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I thought about it.

  Oh, shit.

  “Max,” I said.

  “Yes?”

  “Our mystery woman said something odd.”

  “She said many odd things. Which one?”

  “She’s only been at her job for two years.”

  “Why is that odd? Most people have jobs and many are new.”

  “Think about it.” I sat up straighter on the couch. “Who got a new job two years ago?”

  “Many people. Probably billions.”

  “Not people that General Vaj Majda bows to.”

  “General Majda didn’t bow to anyone.”

  “She might as well have, given the way she was acting. Two years ago, Max.”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “No, I’m not.” I got up and started pacing. “Who is the only person with enough power to keep her identity completely off the webs? To keep General Vaj Majda at her beck and call?”

  “Having an agreement that the general would stand out of earshot while you talked hardly constitutes beck and call.”

  “Seriously?” I stopped pacing. “Vaj Majda was standing like her bodyguard. Two years ago, Max. That’s when Dyhianna Skolia ascended to the throne, after the death of her parents. That woman is the goddamned Ruby Pharaoh.”

  I waited for Max to tell me I was wrong. Please tell me I’m wrong.

  “Your analysis has merit,” Max said.

  “I’m dead,” I muttered.

  “It is a great honor.”

  “Yeah, until I screw up. Why the blazes do they want me on this?”

  “I would venture that they are stumped,” Max answered. “The Majdas recommended you as someone who can work ‘outside the box,’ as you humans say.”

  “Maybe.” It made sense in an ominous sort of way.

  Beyond my window, the sunset was cooling, filling the desert with the encroaching night. I stood watching its darkening glory. I had to admit, potentially lethal or not, this job intrigued me.

  II

  Shrine of the Desolate

  I walked with Colonel Lavinda Majda beneath a canopy of trees, the blue gravel path crunching under our boots. She wore her uniform today, dark green tunic and trousers, with gold braid on her cuffs and shoulders. She cut an impressive figure, tall and fit, with dark hair and dark eyes.

  “The Jagernaut is Daltana Calaj,” Lavinda said. “She’s a war hero, highly decorated.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “It is as the witness told you. Calaj killed Tavan Ganz.”

  I stopped and waited.

  Lavinda halted next to me. “What is it?”

  “The witness,” I said. “She’s the Ruby Pharaoh.” Tell me I’m wrong.

  Lavinda exhaled. “Yes, it is Pharaoh Dyhianna.”

  Gods. No wonder they wanted this kept under wraps. Only one day had passed since they said I needed a higher security clearance, but they had already prepared the way. The moment I accepted the job, they had reactivated my clearance.

  “I still don’t get it,” I said. “Why would a Jagernaut kill the aide of a high-ranking Assembly Councilor in front of the pharaoh? Was it an assassination attempt that went wrong?”

  “As far as we know, Secondary Calaj didn’t even realize the pharaoh witnessed the crime.”

  I couldn’t imagine our dynastic ruler, titular or not, skulking around in places where people got themselves murdered. “Why was the pharaoh there?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. She will give you the details.”

  “Was the aide who died connected to Calaj?” I paused as we walked under a canopy of trees. “Was he a lover or friend?”

  Lavinda shook her head. “No, they had no connection.”

  “Did the pharaoh have a connection to him?”

  “No, none.” She raked her hand through her hair. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. The members of the Ruby Dynasty are—I don’t know how to put it. Vulnerable. Especially the pharaoh. The only one of them that I don’t worry will break is Imperator Skolia.”

  Imperator Skolia. The pharaoh’s nephew. People called him a military dictator. He wasn’t, but his title sure as blazes wasn’t titular. He commanded ISC, the combined military forces of the Skolian Imperialate. Rumor claimed he had killed his grandfather, the previous Imperator, to take his position. I had seen him once, a huge man with metallic skin who never smiled. Vulnerable he wasn’t.

  The woman I had met on the bridge, however, had looked eminently breakable. “You worry that what you say will in some way injure the pharaoh?”

  “Yes and no.” The colonel pushed aside a hanging vine of gold flowers. “It’s true, she looks delicate. But under that fragile exterior, she’s like a cord of steel. And she knows the interstellar meshes like no one else. People call her the Shadow Pharaoh. She’s been infiltrating the meshes for decades, even before she was pharaoh.”

  “Why do you say ‘infiltrating’?” It seemed an odd description, given that the pharaoh’s job was to serve as the Assembly Key, the liaison between the meshes and the elected Assembly.

  “Infiltrate may be the wrong word. She controls the interstellar meshes in ways no one understands. And the meshes control civilization.” She continued to walk in silence, and I kept pace, my thoughts churning.

  Without the networks that tied humanity together, civilization couldn’t exist. They affected every facet of our lives, from world-spanning webs to nano-sized networks in our bodies. The meshes even extended into a different universe, Kyle space, what some people called psiberspace, as a Hilbert space spanned by the quantum wave functions that described a person’s brain. In other words, your thoughts determined your location in Kyle space. People having a conversation were “next” to each other there even if light-years separated them in our universe. You couldn’t physically visit the Kyle but you could transform your thoughts there if you were a trained operator with proper neural enhancement. The Kyle mesh made almost instantaneous communication across light-years possible, and that held together interstellar civilization.

  We had just one “little” problem; although trained telepaths called telops could use the Kyle mesh, they could neither create nor maintain it. The power drawn by that immense network would burn out their brains. Only members of the Ruby Dynasty, the strongest known psions, survived its power. The Ruby Pharaoh created and recreated the mesh continually, and she maintained it with her nephew, the Imperator.

  Lavinda and I came out on a terrace that overlooked the mountains. Lower terraces stepped down from our feet like gigantic steps lush with trees sculpted to resemble birds that had never existed on Raylicon. At the bottom, far below, a forest spread out, and beyond the trees, the barren peaks of the mountains jutted into the sky, black rock streaked with red. It was an eerie landscape, the beauty and rich life of the palace a bitter contrast to the dying world.

  “Is the pharaoh still at the palace?” I asked.

  “Yes, she’s here. She’s working. We will set up a meeting for you when she’s ready.” Lavinda considered me. “Just be prepared.”

  I blinked. “For what?”

  “Pharaoh Dyhianna sometimes has trouble expressing herself. She’s almost ninety, and in all those decades her mind has evolved, augmented by neural implants that let her use Kyle space.” Dryly she added, “Who the hell knows what she means half the time. The imperator seems to understand her, but he’s the only one.”

  Ninety? The woman I had met looked in her thirties. She must have some golden meds in her body to delay aging. I couldn’t begin to imagine what nearly a century of using the otherworldly Kyle would do to a person.

  General Majda and four guards escorted me to the room—if a word as mundane as “room” could describe the jeweled chamber we entered. Gilded mosaics covered its surfaces. The dark tiles where the walls met the floor evoked a silhouette of the jagged mounta
in range outside. Above that horizon, the mosaics glowed red, pink, and gold like the Raylican sunset. Higher up, the tiles turned blue, darkening until they met the ceiling. Stars glittered near the top like diamonds. Hell, they probably were diamonds, real ones dug up from the ground rather than the perfect synthetics created in labs. The domed ceiling curved high overhead, tiled with moonstones. A chandelier of diamonds hung from its topmost point.

  Pharaoh Dyhianna sat at a console table across the room. Night had fallen. The sky showed beyond the arched window next to her console, and silvery starlight bathed her, streaming through the glass. Ghostly holos floated above her console in swirls of color. She had leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed. She wore no gauntlets, only simple bands around her wrists that I had missed at first glance. They could pass for pearly bracelets, except I knew they allowed a prong from her console to click into her wrist sockets so she could link to the Kyle mesh.

  We stopped just inside the door. I glanced at General Majda, and she shook her head slightly. I suspected she hadn’t expected to find the pharaoh still working. We stayed put, silent and with respect. No one told me not to look, though. I couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t that she was doing anything. I’d have thought she’d fallen asleep if I hadn’t known she was visiting another universe with her mind. I mean seriously, what did that mean? I couldn’t fathom how her mind existed in that Elsewhere place.

  The pharaoh suddenly opened her eyes and looked at me. I had always considered the phrase “riveted in place” bizarre, since people weren’t hammered into the floor like machinery, besides which, who used rivets anymore. But in this moment, it made perfect sense. I couldn’t move.