and perhaps my opinion
doesn’t matter to you.” Tahir looked away to avoid the confirmation in Abram’s eyes. “But, if
I’m confused about our objectives, what about the others? Those who follow you because you’ve
sold them on the chance to make a better world without the Consortium, the League, or the
Minoans?”
Abram shrugged. “They are only sheep that require a mission, and any
mission will do.”
“And sheep can be sacrificed.” The voice came from Emery, who appeared
next to Abram with a fierce grin on his face. “Particularly if they’re outsiders.”
“Emery!” Abram almost smiled as he embraced the youngest nephew of Qesan
Douchet.
Unnoticed, Tahir threw himself on his bunk as Emery, his senior by one
year, and Abram slapped each other on the back. He felt twinges of jealousy interspersed with
loathing as he watched Emery, whom Abram called the son of his spirit. Tahir was thirty years
old, yet he evidently still craved his father’s praise and attention. He wanted to shout that
this mission would be impossible without his “outside” life and education. After all, he had
risked imprisonment—but since he’d served his purpose and provided the tools necessary for
Abram’s plans, he was no longer of interest.
“Do we have to take everybody to G-145?”
asked Chander, standing in front of Isrid’s desk.
“We’re leaving your two older sisters, plus the entire household,
tutorial, and security staff on Mars. I wouldn’t agree that everybody is coming along.”
Terran State Prince Isrid Sun Parmet signed absolutely the last form he was going to look at before this trip. His
promotion to Overlord Three’s Assistant for the Exterior had engendered hefty amounts of
paperwork. He took a deep breath as he put down his newest slate, an accurate facsimile of the
devices made in the Consortium, but not as robust.
“That’s not what I mean. Does—” An announcement from the ship’s systems
cut through the boy’s voice.
“All passengers must take their delta-tranquilizer and web into bunks
for safety.” The ship repeated this warning three times while Isrid watched his son, eleven
years old and carrying the significant name of Chander Sky Parmet, squirm with
frustration.
“Have you been doing your somaural exercises?” Isrid asked sharply before the boy said anything more.
“Yes.” Chander’s face turned even more sullen and he looked down at his
feet.
“Then use them. I want objectivity. If you have to add emotion, do it somaurally .”
To give his son credit, he tried. He drew himself up into a straight
stance and Isrid saw him physically struggle to remove the resentment from his face. However,
Chander was beginning adolescence and the self-destructive, emotional bedlam that pitted every
youth against the world was too hard to hide. Already the anger ingrained in his mind showed in
his body. Isrid sighed internally; it would be years before Chander purged the demons of his
adolescence and became a thinking being again. If Isrid wanted to spend the time to
concentrate, he’d see his son’s beautiful orange-yellow aura muddied with darkness.
“I don’t need both my mothers along to babysit me.” Pride screamed from
Chander’s face and body, despite his attempts for objectivity. His arrogant profile, golden
skin, and green eyes came from Isrid, but his thick chestnut hair with burgundy tones was a
faded imitation of Sabina’s. The combination was striking. Already Chander was catching looks
from both females and males, and being the son of a Terran State Prince added to the curiosity.
At this point, Isrid couldn’t give Chander enough of his attention. He now wished he’d added
another male into his multimarriage, even though he and his wives hadn’t recovered from the
trauma of losing his brother and potential co-husband.
“Both your mothers have told me their reasons for visiting G-145, and
they have nothing to do with
doesn’t matter to you.” Tahir looked away to avoid the confirmation in Abram’s eyes. “But, if
I’m confused about our objectives, what about the others? Those who follow you because you’ve
sold them on the chance to make a better world without the Consortium, the League, or the
Minoans?”
Abram shrugged. “They are only sheep that require a mission, and any
mission will do.”
“And sheep can be sacrificed.” The voice came from Emery, who appeared
next to Abram with a fierce grin on his face. “Particularly if they’re outsiders.”
“Emery!” Abram almost smiled as he embraced the youngest nephew of Qesan
Douchet.
Unnoticed, Tahir threw himself on his bunk as Emery, his senior by one
year, and Abram slapped each other on the back. He felt twinges of jealousy interspersed with
loathing as he watched Emery, whom Abram called the son of his spirit. Tahir was thirty years
old, yet he evidently still craved his father’s praise and attention. He wanted to shout that
this mission would be impossible without his “outside” life and education. After all, he had
risked imprisonment—but since he’d served his purpose and provided the tools necessary for
Abram’s plans, he was no longer of interest.
“Do we have to take everybody to G-145?”
asked Chander, standing in front of Isrid’s desk.
“We’re leaving your two older sisters, plus the entire household,
tutorial, and security staff on Mars. I wouldn’t agree that everybody is coming along.”
Terran State Prince Isrid Sun Parmet signed absolutely the last form he was going to look at before this trip. His
promotion to Overlord Three’s Assistant for the Exterior had engendered hefty amounts of
paperwork. He took a deep breath as he put down his newest slate, an accurate facsimile of the
devices made in the Consortium, but not as robust.
“That’s not what I mean. Does—” An announcement from the ship’s systems
cut through the boy’s voice.
“All passengers must take their delta-tranquilizer and web into bunks
for safety.” The ship repeated this warning three times while Isrid watched his son, eleven
years old and carrying the significant name of Chander Sky Parmet, squirm with
frustration.
“Have you been doing your somaural exercises?” Isrid asked sharply before the boy said anything more.
“Yes.” Chander’s face turned even more sullen and he looked down at his
feet.
“Then use them. I want objectivity. If you have to add emotion, do it somaurally .”
To give his son credit, he tried. He drew himself up into a straight
stance and Isrid saw him physically struggle to remove the resentment from his face. However,
Chander was beginning adolescence and the self-destructive, emotional bedlam that pitted every
youth against the world was too hard to hide. Already the anger ingrained in his mind showed in
his body. Isrid sighed internally; it would be years before Chander purged the demons of his
adolescence and became a thinking being again. If Isrid wanted to spend the time to
concentrate, he’d see his son’s beautiful orange-yellow aura muddied with darkness.
“I don’t need both my mothers along to babysit me.” Pride screamed from
Chander’s face and body, despite his attempts for objectivity. His arrogant profile, golden
skin, and green eyes came from Isrid, but his thick chestnut hair with burgundy tones was a
faded imitation of Sabina’s. The combination was striking. Already Chander was catching looks
from both females and males, and being the son of a Terran State Prince added to the curiosity.
At this point, Isrid couldn’t give Chander enough of his attention. He now wished he’d added
another male into his multimarriage, even though he and his wives hadn’t recovered from the
trauma of losing his brother and potential co-husband.
“Both your mothers have told me their reasons for visiting G-145, and
they have nothing to do with
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