Catalyst Read online

  “That’s my influence,” Salomen said, nudging her brother. “Now that Nikin is taking over some of the daily upbringing, I expect a steep decline.”

  “You mean a decline in temperamental outbursts? Yes, I expect the same.” Nikin’s white teeth flashed against his tanned face as he grinned.

  The family resemblance between all three of the siblings was quite pronounced, with their dark brown hair and eyes, strong chins, and transformative smiles. Salomen and Nikin were both taller than their father, Shikal, and judging by the length of his legs, Jaros was well on his way to matching them. His facial ridges were still small on his forehead and nonexistent on his cheekbones, but the thick, masculine ridges on both Shikal and Nikin were an indication of what he would grow into.

  Salomen’s ridges were attractively narrow, the fan-shaped trio on her forehead curving gracefully from the bridge of her nose to either temple and straight up to her hairline, while her cheekbone ridges cast faint shadows as she leaned over to tug Jaros’s collar straight. He bore the attention stoically, lifting his head to make room for her hands. The action made his chin dimple more obvious, a twin to Salomen’s own, and not for the first time Lanaril thought they could easily be mistaken for mother and child.

  Shikal looked over Andira’s casual clothing, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “You seem more approachable today. I could hardly believe that shining warrior in the full cape and breastplate last night was the same person who spent a moon working in our fields.”

  “What about that shining producer in the full cape and breastplate? I thought she looked like Fahla walking among us.” Though Andira’s front was perfect as always, the smile she directed at Salomen would have advertised her thoughts to a sonsales. Salomen’s answering smile was just as easily read.

  “Our Lancer seems to have been mentally compromised, don’t you think, Father? It must have been all the spirits she drank. Oof!” Nikin huffed when Salomen elbowed him in the ribs.

  Shikal shook his head. “You deserved that. And I believe our Lancer sees very clearly.” He stepped forward and slid a finger beneath the fabric at Andira’s throat, flipping out the upright collar that had been rolled under on one side. “But not when she dressed this morning. You must have been distracted, eh?”

  Lanaril had never seen Andira blush before, nor stand so obviously speechless. She wondered how long it had been since anyone but a lover or Colonel Micah had touched her in such a casual, familial manner.

  Shikal turned to his daughter. “I thought your mother taught you better than that. It’s your job to make certain your bondmate is fit to be seen in public. Fahla knows Nashta was always stopping me before I walked out the door.”

  “And how many times did you stop her?” Salomen had not taken her eyes off Andira, who still looked as if she had been hit over the head with something large. “Father, Andira might need a little more time to adapt to her new family before you start trying to parent her.”

  “As if I could,” Shikal said. “I would never presume to usurp Corozen’s role.”

  Jaros frowned. “Colonel Micah is Lancer Tal’s father?”

  At last Andira found her voice. “Not biologically. But in every other way that matters, yes, he is. Just as you’re not biologically part of my family, yet here you are.”

  The frown had not left his face. “We won’t stop being friends just because we’re family, will we?”

  “No, of course not. Why would you think so?”

  He stepped closer and spoke in a low voice that everyone else could still hear. “Herot is my family. But we’re not friends.”

  A pained expression crossed Andira’s face before she crouched down with her hands on his shoulders. “I believe your brother is thinking very hard right now about his family and his choices in friends. You may find that when he comes back home, things will be better between you. But you’re right, family is no guarantee of friendship. I forgot that because I’ve spent so many cycles without either one, but you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I get to choose both now. I’m choosing friends to be my family. And I choose…you.” She tapped a finger to the tip of his nose.

  He launched himself into her arms, and she held him tightly, resting their heads together. Then she opened her eyes, looked up the pathway, and smiled. “Here come two more people I’ve chosen. Didn’t you tell me you missed meeting Captain Serrado last night?”

  “She’s here?” He pulled away and looked around before spotting the two Gaians walking toward them, bags over their shoulders. “Oh…”

  To Lanaril’s surprise, the previously confident boy took a half-step behind Andira. “What do I say to her?” he asked.

  “You say well met,” Salomen answered. “They may be Gaian, but they know our ways.”

  He nodded silently, radiating both awe and trepidation as he watched the women approach.

  They made a striking pair. Lhyn was tall and slender to the point of seeming fragile, and her startling green eyes were almost too large for her face. After all this time and many quantum com calls, Lanaril was used to the lack of cheekbone and forehead ridges. She had certainly seen the same alien smoothness on the faces of the Voloth colonists, who were physically indistinguishable from the Gaians. But seeing it so closely was…different.

  Lhyn wore her long brown hair in a complicated braid that brought out its silver streaks, giving her a look of dignity that was usually dispelled the moment she opened her mouth. She was one of the most open and enthusiastic people Lanaril had ever met, and her words rarely strayed from the truth of her emotions.

  Ekatya Serrado was much shorter, with shoulder-length hair as solidly black as Lanaril’s own and dark blue eyes that sparked with intelligence. Though her height and slim build made her look small, she had the confident stride and aura of restrained power that inspired others to get out of her way. Lanaril could easily imagine her commanding more than a thousand people on her ship.

  But where Lhyn was open and true to her emotions, Ekatya was closed and cautious. She maintained an outwardly friendly facade, behaving with impeccable politeness, but she held people at her fingertips. Especially Lanaril, it seemed. She hoped this bonding break would provide the opportunity for both of them to move past that, for Lhyn’s sake if not her own.

  “Good morning, everyone.” Lhyn dropped her bag on the grass and shaded her eyes with one hand as she looked toward the transport. “This is a crowd. Are we late? Blame Ekatya; she had to have a third cup of shannel.”

  “Making up for lost time, Captain?” Andira asked in a teasing tone.

  “Absolutely and without shame. I hope you’ve packed at least a case of it somewhere on that transport.” Ekatya smiled at the group, and when her gaze reached Jaros, he slid a bit farther into Andira’s shadow. “I don’t believe we’ve met. You must be Jaros.”

  “Ah…” He looked at his sister for help, but Salomen tilted her head toward Ekatya. Reluctantly, he moved away from his protector and held up a hand. “Yes, I am.”

  Ekatya met his palm touch. “Well met, Jaros Opah. I’m Ekatya Serrado.”

  Lanaril was fascinated by the way she could physically project so much assurance when her emotions told a different story. Like all Gaians, Ekatya and Lhyn were sonsales, unable to sense emotions and equally unable to front their own. Everything they felt was free for the sensing—all the unguarded emotional power of children, but with the complexity and contradictions of adults. And this battle-hardened, accomplished warrior was nervous about meeting a small boy.

  “Two hands, Jaros,” Salomen said. “Andira has invited Ekatya and Lhyn because she has chosen them for her family. Which means they are your family as well.”

  Jaros obediently lifted his other hand. “Well met, Captain Serrado.”

  “There’s no need to call me Captain. I’m not on duty right now, and I’m not your captain.
Call me Ekatya.”

  “But you’re the Savior of Blacksun,” Jaros said in an awed voice. He let go and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I read a book about you. We learned about your ship and battle tactics in my history class this cycle.”

  Lhyn laughed. “Look at that, you’re already history. I guess you can retire now.”

  “Which battle?” Ekatya asked.

  “The Battle of Alsea,” Jaros said as if that were blindingly obvious. “There was only one battle. Not counting the first ground pounder, I mean.”

  “After the Caphenon crashed, yes. But what about the battle we fought before we crashed? When we destroyed the first Voloth invasion group?”

  His mouth formed an O. “We didn’t learn about that! Not any details. Just that you blew up three ships before crashing.”

  “You didn’t learn about a battle that took place right over your heads? It seems we need to update the Alsean records.” Ekatya drummed her fingers on her thigh as she raised her eyebrows. “Should I start with you?”

  “Yes! How did you know they were here? Is it true you fought them all alone? What was it like? Were their ships even bigger than the Caphenon?”

  Jaros had forgotten the meaning of the word shy, and Ekatya had forgotten her nervousness at the same time. She smiled at Andira, who gave her a quick wink.

  Lanaril watched, her curiosity rising. There was an oddly intimate nuance to Ekatya’s emotions, a private thread between her and Andira. An intimacy like that would make sense had they been lovers, but…

  She glanced at Salomen, wondering if she had felt the same thing, and found her staring at Andira with a speculative expression.

  Well. This trip might be more exciting than she had imagined.

  CHAPTER 3:

  Confession

  Tal had arranged for several platters of refreshments to be brought to the conference table in her private cabin, intending to use it as a place where both guests and Guards could stretch their legs and enjoy a nibble. But the transport had barely lifted off when Salomen grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out of the main cabin. Quiet laughter followed them down the short corridor, the others assuming that they couldn’t even wait to land before joining again.

  Unfortunately, joining was the last thing on Salomen’s mind. As soon as the door shut behind them, she dropped Tal’s hand and said, “I think you have something to tell me.”

  “Shek.” Tal ran her hands through her hair. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

  “Oh, how I love conversations that begin with those words. Tell me, on a scale of being half a hantick late for our third date, to letting me find out in front of three hundred people that you might die in ritual combat, how angry am I likely to be?”

  “Being half a hantick late for our third date is the bottom of your scale?”

  Her attempt at stalling failed. When Salomen silently crossed her arms over her chest and assumed a waiting stance, Tal sighed.

  “Remember when you told your family about your empathic gift?” she asked. “And you said that the longer a secret is kept, the more entrenched it grows?”

  “Vividly. And now you’re worrying me. What is going on between you and Ekatya?”

  “More than I realized,” Tal muttered, half hoping she wouldn’t be heard.

  Salomen took her wrist again, led her to the four large, comfortable seats by the windows, and pushed her down. Taking the opposite seat, she said, “You told me the two of you never joined.”

  “We didn’t. But…we Shared.”

  Salomen sat up straight, reeling from the impact of that news, and Tal scrambled to mitigate the damage.

  “I wanted to tell you earlier, but there was never a good time. I’d hoped to bring it up after my challenge moon, but then there was the whole disaster with Herot and Parser and Shantu, and after that we were cleaning up the mess, and then it was all the politics of electing two new Primes and getting ready for the matter printers and the bonding ceremony…” She dropped her head into her hands. “I know I should have said something. I just didn’t know how to start the conversation. And the longer I left it, the harder it became.”

  “You Shared with her? A woman you loved? And not only that, but a sonsales alien who was probably overwhelmed by it? No wonder she’s connected to you!”

  “I didn’t know she was!” Tal lifted her head and faced Salomen’s ire. “Not until the same time you did. I thought it was just me.”

  Salomen’s eyes narrowed. “How could I not know you still felt that way?”

  “Because I don’t! Or I didn’t. Agh!” Tal threw up her hands. “I felt that way before, yes. And you know all about that, but that’s not what’s happening now. This is something different, something I’m…” She rubbed her forehead ridges. “Rather nervous about.”

  “No, I don’t know all about that, because you somehow left the Sharing bit out of your explanation. You said she never knew how you felt until the very end. How is that possible when you gave her everything you are? I would have preferred it had you joined with her.” Salomen slumped back into her seat. “And I cannot believe I just said that.”

  “It wasn’t that kind of Sharing.”

  Salomen gave her a sideways glance that dripped with skepticism.

  Stung, Tal said, “And you wonder why I didn’t want to start this conversation.”

  “Don’t even think of shoveling this back on me. I am not the one bringing my past love and your greatest competition on our bonding break!”

  Tal snapped her mouth shut and stared out the window, where the coastline of Pallea was passing beneath them as they flew southeast. It was difficult to think clearly with the weight of Salomen’s emotions rolling through her, a tangled ball of jealousy, anger, and fear. But underneath the knots, pulsing steadily, was the power and solidity of their tyree bond.

  A memory rose to the front of her mind, something Salomen had said on her first day in their State House quarters.

  “Nothing has changed.” She met Salomen’s eyes, willing her to believe. “She still has her tyree, and I still have mine. Ekatya did not light up a molwyn tree with me.”

  Salomen blinked, inhaled deeply—and relaxed. The sudden shift as the knots slithered apart left Tal light-headed.

  “You’re right,” Salomen said. “Whatever is between you, it’s not what we have. Maybe I overreacted, but I’m just not used to…” She made a helpless motion with her hands.

  “Sharing your toys?” Tal asked with a small smile. “Your father did mention that about you.”

  “It’s much too soon for jokes. You know she’s the only person I would ever worry about.”

  She sobered. “I do know, but there’s no need.”

  “And I understand that, mostly, but she’s not a ghost any longer.” Salomen pointed at the bulkhead behind her. “She’s right there, and she has a deep connection with you. Which is a little unsettling to discover the day after our bonding ceremony.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really had no idea. I didn’t feel it until now.” Tal hesitated. “There was…something, when she gave me that warmron the night they arrived. But I hadn’t touched her in seventeen moons. We were both so happy to see each other—I thought it was just her unfronted strength.”

  “I did, too,” Salomen admitted. “Their emotional nakedness does take some getting used to.”

  “It does. Ambassador Solvassen has learned to keep his emotions a little more ordered, and Chief Kameha has always been more muted. His mind tends to be focused on engineering details and projects. I’ve grown accustomed to working with them, but I forgot what it was like to be with Ekatya and Lhyn.”

  Salomen nodded, her posture slightly more open though she was still guarded. “Perhaps you could just tell me the whole story this time.”

  Tal winced at the reminder. “There isn’t that much to tell. It
started with the honor challenge Ekatya told you about. That was when I Shared with her the first time.”

  “The first ti— Oh, for the love of Fahla.” Salomen rested her head against the seat back. “How many times?” she asked the transparent ceiling.

  “Only once with Ekatya alone.”

  That brought her head back up. “You Shared with both of them?”

  “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even know what I was doing. And it really wasn’t safe, which became abundantly clear when they left and I…well. Let’s just say it wasn’t a good time in my life.” Tal pushed down the unpleasant memory. “I didn’t Share myself with Ekatya that first time. I used the Sharing to push my memories of Lhyn’s emotions to her. They were tyrees and didn’t know it, and Ekatya refused to believe me when I told her. She didn’t think it was possible. So I showed her.”

  Salomen stared at her in silence until a tiny smile lifted one side of her mouth. “You Shared with her to prove she was tyree.”

  “I told you it wasn’t what you were thinking.”

  “I know.” The smile spread. “Trust you to have protective instincts even toward an alien. One you had just beaten after she insulted your honor.”

  “Well, there was some guilt involved. I owed her. And it seemed like a crime against Fahla that there could be such a thing as sonsales tyrees. They couldn’t feel the gift they held.”

  “I can understand that.” Salomen drummed her fingers on the armrest. “What about the other times?”

  As often as Tal had imagined this conversation, she had yet to come up with the right way to explain.

  “This is where it gets complicated,” she said slowly. “I’ve never told you exactly what I did to make sure that Ekatya stayed with us to help in that battle, and I promise you that I will, but not right now. Suffice to say that because of my strategy, their bond was strained. Deeply strained. I kept waiting for them to resolve it, but…” She shrugged. “They’re sonsales. Neither of them knew how the other felt, and they weren’t talking about it. At least not with each other. It was driving me insane. I dreamed my whole life of having what they had, and they were letting it slip like water through their fingers because they were too afraid to trust each other.”