George Martin - Aces High

"You're claiming to be the Radical?" Disbelief sent Tach's voice up several octaves.

"Oh no, man, 'cause I got no proof. I made these powders, trying to find him, to get him back, but when I eat them I get these other people."

"Other people?" Tach repeated in an unnaturally calm tone.

"Yeah, my friends, man."

Tachyon was certain now. He had a nut on his hands. If only he had sent for the limousine. He began casting about for a way to dump his unwelcome companion and get to his meeting before they cancelled his grant or the Ideal only knew what else… He spotted an alley that he knew would cut through to a taxi stand. Surely there he could be rid-

Trips was rambling again. "You're sorta like the father to all the aces, man. And you're always doing stuff to help people. And I'd like to help people so I was figuring you could, like, teach me to be an ace, and fight evil, and-"

Whatever else the Captain wanted was lost in a squeal of tires as a car shot into the alley and jammed to a halt. Survival instincts, drilled into him from infancy, took over, and Tach whirled and ran from what had now become a deadly box. Trips turned from side to side, his head poking at the car and at the fleeing Takisian like a puzzled stork.

Screech! Slam! Another car, effectively blocking his escape. And figures-familiar figures-boiling from the vehicles. He had no time to ponder the inexplicable presence of his relatives on Earth; instead his shields snapped into place just in time to turn a powerful mind blast. His power lanced out, shields buckled, fell, and one of his attackers collapsed.

He tried another; the shields held. Too many. Time to try and elude them physically. The leak from their minds indicated a simple capture, but then he saw an arrester slide from his cousin Rabdan's wrist sheath. It was a particularly nasty weapon, and a popular assassination tool. A press to the victim's chest, and the heart stopped. Quick, clean, simple, and the job was finished. A spinning back kick sent Rabdan staggering into a row of garbage cans. The battered cans-went down with a crash and a clatter, releasing the stench of rotting garbage, and four or five yowling, spitting alley cats. The silvery disk of the arrester rolled from Rabdan's hand, and Tach leaped for it.

From the corner of his eye he saw the Captain clutch at his head, and collapse with a moan to the slimy pavement. Another mental attack which his shields turned, but they did fuck all against a baton expertly wielded by Sedjur, his old arms master, and as his skull exploded in fragments of light and pain, Tachyon felt a deep sense of hurt and betrayal, and a strong wish that he had had a gun.

"… bring this other one?"

"You said to leave neither witnesses nor bodies." Rabdan's sulky, defensive tones seemed filtered by several miles of cotton wool, and that other voice.. it couldn't be. Tach squeezed his eyes tighter shut, willing the return of unconsciousness, anything but the presence of the Kibr, Benaf'saj.

The old woman sighed. "Very well, perhaps he can serve as a control. Take him to the cabin with the others." Rabdan's footfalls receded, accompanied by a dragging sound.

"The boy did well," Sedjur said, once Rabdan was gone and could not be insulted by his remarks. "His years here have strengthened him. Took out Rabdan."

"Yes, yes. Now go. I must speak with my grandchild." Sedjur's footsteps dwindled, and Tach continued to play possum. His mind lanced out; touched on the presence of the ship, (it was definitely a war vessel of the Courser class), felt the familiar pattern of Takisian minds, the panic of two… no, three human ones. And finally a mind whose touch brought a rush of fear and hate and regret tinged with sadness. His cousin Zabb, becoming aware of the featherlike probe, thrust back, and Tachyon's imperfect shield allowed part of the blow to pass. His headache increased in intensity.

"I know you're conscious," Benaf'saj said conversationally. With a sigh, he opened his eyes, and regarded the chiseled features of his oldest living relative. The opaline luminescence of the ship's walls formed a halo about her silver white hair, and heightened the network of lines that etched her face. But even with these ravages it was possible to see traces of the formidable beauty that had enthralled several generations of men. Legend had it that a member of the Alaa family had risked all to spend one night with her. One wondered if he had found the bliss worth the price, for she had killed him before morning. (Or so the story ran.) A gnarled hand plucked at a wisp of hair that had worked free from the elaborate coiffure, while the faded gray eyes studied him with a coolness bordering on disinterest.

"Will you greet me properly, or have your years on Earth dulled your manners?"

He scrambled up, swept her a bow, and dropped to one knee before her. Her long, dry fingers caged his face, drawing him close, and the withered lips pressed a kiss onto his forehead.

"You weren't always so silent. At home your chattering was held to be a flaw. " He remained quiet, not wanting to lose position by asking the first question. "Sedjur says you've learned to fight. Has Earth also taught you to keep your own counsel?"

"Rabdan tried to kill me."

She was neither disconcerted by the bluntness of the statement, nor insulted by his flat, hostile tone. "Not everyone would welcome your return to Takis."

"And Zabb is on board."

"And from that you may draw your own conclusions."

" I see." He looked away, revulsion lying like a foul taste on the back of his tongue. "I'm not going back, and neither are the humans."

Her thin fingers closed like talons on his chin, and forced him to face her. "You sulky-faced boy. What about your duty and responsibility to the family?"

"And what about my pursuit of virtue?" he countered, throwing up to her the other equally important and utterly contradictory tenet of Takisian life.

"Time has not stood still at home while you have amused yourself on Earth. When you vanished, Shaklan suspected you had followed the ship to Earth."

"But you were not alone in your concern over the great experiment. Others watched, but rather than haring off to prevent the release, they struck at the source. L'gura, that motherless animal, welded a coalition of fifteen other families, and they came." She stared down at her hands, and suddenly she looked very old. "Many died in the attack. But for Zabb I think we all might have died." Tach caught his lower lip between his teeth, holding back the excuses for his absence. "Did you never wonder, as the years passed and still we did not come, what might have happened?"

A cold blade seemed to twist in his belly, and he forced out, "Father?"

"A head injury. The flesh lives, but the mind is gone." Numbness gripped him, and the remainder of her words seemed to come to him from a great distance. "With you gone Zabb agitated for the scepter, but many feared his ambition. In order to block his ascension your uncle Taj maintained a regency, but it was decided that you had to be found, for it is doubtful how much longer Shaklan's body can continue…"

Bitterly cold mornings, and his father pressing a paper cone filled with roasted nuts into his hand while a street vendor bobbed and beamed at the noble ones… Swinging sadly on a door while Shaklan conducted business and forgot that he had promised to teach his small son to ride that day. The meeting ending, and the arms opening wide. Racing into that embrace, feeling safe as those powerful arms closed about him, the tickle of a lace cravat against his cheek, and the warm, man scent, overlaid with the spice of his cologne. . The indescribable pain when his father had shot him through the upper thigh during one of his psi training sessions. Their tears had mingled as Shaklan tried to explain why he had done it. That Tisianne had to be able to withstand anything this side of death without losing mental control. Someday his life might depend upon it… The flicker of firelight on the etched planes of his face as they shared a bottle of wine, and wept, the night they learned of Jadlan's suicide.