“You force your sentience on others, while Tulan’s nanomechs have given me only his memories and that’s not the same thing,” Aiben snarled. Nograth had spoken some painful truth, though. Hazarat shal was more than just memories, it was also personality imprinting, and that’s why he was so angry. It didn’t matter that he had Tulan’s body; he would have grown to be someone quite different if Oand-ib and the Hegirith’hi Shez hadn’t planned for the nanomechs to give him Tulan’s mind.
“Whatever makes you feel less of a savage, brother,” Nograth said. “Let me ask you something else, then. How are you going to use im shalal against me now that I have taken Nairom’s body? He doesn’t have the hereditary ability of the Haman. Your disgraceful weapon is useless against him. With my mind and his nanomechs, I’ll still be able to control my cybermancers just fine.”
Then Nograth’s mind sought Aiben’s. It was still weak, fighting to grasp him through hyperspatial connections. Nairom’s nanomechs were allowing Nograth’s mind to use shalal hiliz without the aid of the hypernet! That had been the missing element so many generations ago when the Tulani’aak had first introduced the nanomechs into the lesser advanced races. They needed a mind strong enough to use them to penetrate hyperspace with nothing more than a thought. That was why they had created the hypernet and its portals as a crutch for the weaker mind.
Nograth’s mind didn’t need that help, and once he could control it, the weak link between brothers would become much stronger in very little time. If Aiben didn’t do something quickly, he was sure he couldn’t save himself from Nograth’s growing mental attack, and then his brother would use his obscene brand of hazarat shal to become Haman once again. He knew what he had to do while Nograth’s mind was still too fragile and his wasn’t. The mind killer’s nanomechs would have to change their task.
Achanei was still moaning and fighting to wake up. Aiben couldn’t let Nograth flee into her body if threatened, or use her against him physically to distract his mental defenses. Either way, he had to hurry. He grabbed hold of Nograth's mind in turn and held on to it as his thoughts raced along the paths of the nanomechs’ command interfaces. He hoped he could reprogram the molecular machines in time. Seconds later, he was ready.
He raised his arm and aimed it at Nairom’s body. The metallic glint of his halifi in the brightness of Morgoloth’s day lit up fear in those steel-grey eyes. It was too late by the time Nograth realized what Aiben was doing. A liquid spurt of metal jumped from his arm and bored into Nairom’s chest. For a brief second, Aiben thought im shalal would still recognize Nairom as partly Tulan and not harm him, but the mind killer had understood his commands. There wasn’t enough of Tulan in Nairom’s genetic code to fool them a second time. Im shalal’s nanomechs disassembled themselves in his body in one massive burst of energy. The shock of the sudden power surge stopped his heart. Astonished, steel-grey eyes rolled into a white stare of death.
Aiben, not Tulan, had killed his brother.
CHAPTER 45
The day Tulan’s brother died, the tide of war waned.
In those last few moments, as Aiben held Nograth’s weakened mind in place to allow time for im shalal to defeat him, some of Nograth’s essence spilled over into Aiben. The thread of hazarat shal between the two brothers had been so frail that none of Nograth’s real sentience overwrote his own. Still, many of Nograth’s memories were there. That store of twisted knowledge contained something that would prove most useful to the war effort. Embedded in the Agar Hegirith’s thoughts were the control codes for the nanomech spies that infested the command structure of the Protectorate and its cybermancers.
Aiben used Tulan’s nanomechs and drilled into the minds of the Zenzani military leaders through the Protectorate’s network of hyperportals. Once connected, he put his newfound control over them to use. Those already engaged in battle, he ordered to surrender. Those on their way to enlist in battle, he ordered to retreat. Those able to resist his orders, he incapacitated until the Seven Guilds could capture their forces.
Next, he riveted his growing mental powers on the Protectorate’s cybermancers. He sent directives to render their nanomechs inert, which disconnected them from the hypernet and severed their ability to communicate with one another and with their military leaders. Without direction from the Agar Hegirith, or his cybermancers, the Protectorate’s troops began to falter; the loyalty and cohesion of their military dissolved, and the resulting chaos destroyed their discipline and morale.
There were other triumphs too. Lieutenant Nost succeeded in hunting down the planetary shield generator that webbed its protective field around Morgoloth. He was able to destroy it, but no one ever heard from him again.
It was in this state of utter confusion and weakness that the combined forces of House Feillion and Tain-Balmor slammed onto the surface of that first world conquered by the Protectorate and liberated it. The fight only lasted two standard weeks before they completely defeated Magron’s adherents. Following the success of Admiral Geth Atregis’s and President Jolen Tain’s armed offensive, the rest of the Seven Guilds found the courage to pull together and cooperate to win the war against their common enemy.
***
Cold, alpine air burned Aiben’s lungs each time he pulled in a new breath. Mountain forest clung to the rise of zahati baral, the place of honor, and saturated the atmosphere with arboreal scents. He found the smells relaxing while he watched the violet haze of a sunrise push up over snow-capped peaks in the distance. Flickering shadows shot down along the timberline where high-altitude winds rustled through the trees.
The humming of hoverjets climbing up the slope towards him interrupted the ambience. The vibrations drowned out the avian cries he had been listening to in the wind-swept trees. He had ordered his nanomechs to be silent. He had wanted to sense the world around him with its full spectrum of stimuli, raw and unaided.
Crunching footsteps on frozen, dry ground approached him from behind. Even without augmentation, he immediately recognized their rhythm. They belonged to one of the two women he knew would come looking for him.
“He was a good man,” she said.
“The best,” Aiben said.
Achanei looked down at the marker indicating where the ilud’hi had forever entombed Ballis on Ilud’hi ai Rahan. One of their artisans had etched the flowing script of ancient hiliz into the dark-grey stone. It told of the man’s extraordinary sacrifice for the ilud’hi. Its praise was simple, yet beautiful. It was a fitting conclusion for an old soldier.
“I’m going home, Aiben.”
He turned to look at her, but those jade eyes wouldn’t look up to meet his.
“There’s nothing for us on Besti anymore,” Aiben tried to convince her. “You know that, don't you?”
“I’m not talking about Besti.” She briskly rubbed her hands together, maybe because of the cold air, maybe because she was nervous. “I mean home. Feillia Prime.”
“Oh.” Aiben's jaw worked, but he forced himself to relax and ran his hand through his bristly, cold hair. “The Tulani’aak still have a long struggle ahead of them. They need you. I need you. You can help me rebuild their society. There's something about you that I...”
“Rahan is your destiny, Aiben, not mine.”
“It's not my destiny anymore. It's my choice this time. Stay with me. I love you, Achanei.” There, he had said it, but it sounded hollow now, ringing in his ears with bad timing. They were three words of pleading instead of heart-felt feeling.
She shook her head. She was still looking at the ground. “I know you do, but it’s too late for that now.”
“Don’t say that.” He reached for her hand and caught it.
She pulled free and stepped back from him. “I tried to kill you, Aiben.”
“You were being controlled,” he reminded her. “You couldn’t help it. Is that why you've been avoiding me ever since Nograth's defeat?”
Several days had already passed since they had left Mo
rgoloth and returned to the world where Tulan’s people still struggled to reclaim their birthright. Only once, while still on Morgoloth, had she allowed Aiben to cyberlink with her. It had been just long enough for him to seek out and destroy the nanomechs Nograth had used to control her. The Moolag had planted the molecular spies in her while holding her prisoner in Abri Mor.
Aiben hadn’t had any trouble using Nograth’s own codes to render them useless. After that, she had refused further cyberlinks with him and they had gone their separate ways during the battle for Morgoloth. She had left him somewhat confused by her actions and had enlisted with her family’s forces to tear down the tangible barriers of the Zenzani occupation, while he had spent his time destroying their command structure one mind at a time.
“I just need time away from everything,” she said.
“Stay, please.”
“I can’t.” She finally looked up. She was biting her lip, her nostrils flared and her eyes glistened, but she held back the tears.
Aiben wanted to comfort her, convince her, but Jerekiel was coming up the incline towards them now. He wondered why the Shelezar had waited so long to join them. When she got close enough, though, he saw how the two women locked eyes. They were both wearing impassive and unreadable masks, but the uneasy feeling between them was colder and sharper than the mountainous air around them.
“I just got a call from Oromgol,” Jerekiel said to Achanei. “The Oobellians have everything ready for your departure. They’re waiting for you at the enclave.”
“Thank you,” Achanei said. Jerekiel nodded in return.
“You've got to...” Aiben started, but she shook her head and held up a hand. She had curled her hair into tight little springs that bounced with the movement.
“No. Good-bye, Aiben.” She abruptly turned from him and ran back down the slope towards to the transport.
“Achanei, wait!” He started to follow her. He had to do something to keep her from leaving him again.
Jerekiel grabbed his arm and held him back. “If you make her stay, she won’t heal, and she will forever resent you.”
Aiben watched helplessly as hoverjets lifted the transport and skimmed it back down the mountainside. He took an almost involuntary step backwards, not wanting to believe she had actually left. His hand touched Jerekiel’s, and she intertwined her fingers with his. He didn’t fight her.
“Come with me, Iniri’ki Hegirith.” She turned his face to hers and he held her gaze. “As we walk home, let me tell you the stories of the ilud’hi. Let me tell you about father Tulan and mother Jerekiel like I promised.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
R. David King lives with his family in the Pacific Northwest where he works for a large international software company by day and dreams up stories to entertain himself and others by night.
https://rdavidking.com
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