Heirs of Empire

Admiral Weinstein tried to whip upright and dodge, but Admiral Robbins was a clever tactician and tumbled him to the floor in a squirming, tickling heap. Her intended instrument of retribution pulped harmlessly against the tip of his nose, but things were progressing satisfactorily indeed when an urgent tone sounded.

Adrie

Adrie

“Sorry to disturb you, Adrie

Robbins went white, and Hatcher continued in that same flat voice.

“We’ve double-checked with Urahan. They hypered out on schedule, and they should’ve reached Thegran five hours ago.”

Adrie

“It might be a hypercom failure,” she suggested, but her own tone told her how little she believed it.

“Anything’s possible,” Hatcher said expressionlessly. The hypercom was massive and complex, but its basic technology had been refined for over six mille

“Oh, Jesus, Ger,” she whispered at last.

“I know.”

“Was their hyper field unbalanced when they left Urahan?”

“I don’t know.” Frustration harshened Hatcher’s voice. “They dropped off their passengers and hypered straight out, and none of the reconstruction people had any reason to run a trace on them. All we know is they hit the threshold and kicked over right on the tick.”

“Oh, shit.” The expletive was a prayer, and Adrie

“You mean you hope it is,” Hatcher said, then closed his eyes. “And so do I. But hoping won’t change things if it’s not.” Adrie

“Of course I do!” Adrie

“Thank you,” Hatcher said softly, and Adrie

“Will you—?” she began, and he nodded, face grimmer than ever.

“I’m leaving for the Palace now.”

Fifteen Asgerd-class planetoids erupted from hyper-space ten light-minutes from the G4 star Thegran. They came out in battle formation, with shields up and enough weapons on-line to destroy an entire solar system. Every sensor was at max, seeking any threat and searching for any lifeboat’s beacon.

But there was nothing to engage … and no beacons.

Adrie

She fought her tears. She’d hoped so hard! But there was no sign of Imperial Terra … or of anything that could have destroyed her. And if a hyper ship failed to reach its destination it never emerged from hyper at all. She drew a deep breath and rubbed her stinging eyes once, angrily, before she looked at her white-faced communications officer.

“Calibrate the hypercom, Commander,” she said in a voice leached of all emotion.

“I’m sorry, Colin,” Gerald Hatcher said quietly. “God, I’m sorry.”

Colin sat in his study, trying not to weep while Jiltanith pressed her face into his shoulder and her tears soaked his tunic, and Hatcher started to reach out to them, then stopped. His hand hung in midair for a moment while he stared down at it as if at an enemy, then dropped it back into his lap.

“I’d hoped Adrie

“No.” Colin’s frayed voice quivered despite his effort to hold it steady. He shook his head almost convulsively. “It … it was our idea, Ger. Ours.” He closed his eyes and felt a tear trickle down his cheek.

“I should’ve argued. God, how could I be so stupid! Both of them, and Sandy and Tam—” Hatcher stopped, cursing himself as Colin’s face clenched. Venting his self-hate could only hurt his friends, but he would never forgive himself. Never. Terra had seemed so powerful, so safe … and so he’d let not merely both heirs to the throne but the children of all of his closest friends sail aboard a single ship, never reflecting for a moment that even the mightiest starship might malfunction and die. Of course it was unlikely, but it was his job to expect the unlikely.

“Have you told the others?” Colin asked, and Hatcher shook his head.

“No. I— Well, you and ’Ta

“I understand.” Colin cut him off softly, hugging Jiltanith as she wept. “It’s not your fault, Ger. I don’t want to hear that from you ever again.” He held the admiral’s eyes until Hatcher gave a tiny nod, then drew a deep, ragged breath.

“ ’Ta

He cupped her face between his palms, and her diamond tears wrenched at him, for he understood her too well. She’d been wounded too often in the endless battle against Anu. Her softness had withdrawn behind a fiery temper and a warrior’s armor forged by a lifetime of warfare and lost friends. But it was still there, however hard she found showing it, and when she loved, she loved as she did everything else—with all she was.

“We have to go, ’Ta

She drew a quick, angry breath … then held it and closed her eyes. One hand rose to his cheek, and she nodded and pressed a kiss upon his wrist. Anguish still filled her eyes when she opened them once more, but there was understanding as well. The understanding that she had to go on, not simply because her friends needed her, but because if she didn’t there was nothing left but a dark, bottomless gulf, waiting to suck her under forever.