Bringer of Chaos Page 12

  All the pods opened by the top rising and then sliding down toward the end. Helia's had been dismantled and the cover placed upside down beneath it, putting her above all the others. The surface would reach mid-thigh on Pietas. All the other pods had retained their covers.

  "Tas, she needs her rest."

  "Fine. Don't be pushy." His mother needed to sleep. He could do this. The cave was not that deep. Twenty-five or thirty feet. No more. Not that dark. Starlight and light from the upright pods made the sandy floor and rocky walls visible. Pietas could walk upright. Not that confining. There was room. He could do this for his mother. "I w-- I want to be sure it's safe first."

  Pretosia trotted inside and sniffed the pod, then sat down beside it, tail curled around its feet.

  "Kitty approves." Dessy uncrossed her arms. "Tas, there's nowhere else. You can't take her to a better hotel down the street. This is it."

  "Shut up, Dess. I'm loathe to put her down, that's all." He kissed his mother's brow. When she didn't react, he drew her closer, turned sideways and carried her between one row of pods. He ignored the walls closing in, darkening the cave. He looked at his mother. Nowhere else.

  "Setting you down." He eased her onto the pod and drew the covers over her.

  Six dragged over a sawed-off tree trunk as a makeshift seat.

  "Thank you." He sat behind his mother's pod, facing the opening of the cave. The vertical pods blocked his view but some starlight showed above them. Not as confining as he'd thought. So why did his chest hurt as if he'd been too long underwater? He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

  Pretosia nuzzled his hand, then set its chin on his knee and looked up at him, green eyes calm and soothing.

  He scratched the cat's ears and stroked the smooth fur. Peace cascaded over him, cleansing his soul, clearing his mind.

  Watch. Scout. Guard. Keep. Care. Safe. Duty.

  He released a sigh and with it, all his tension.

  Without warning, the cat leaped up onto the pod.

  "Tas!" Dessy grabbed Pietas by the shoulder. "Get that thing out of there!"

  His gaze went from her face to her hand, then back.

  She released him. "Do something," she insisted. "That thing is dangerous."

  Pretosia afforded Dessy a regal blink, and then lay down alongside his mother, tail around Helia's head. Stretched out, the cat's length matched his mother's.

  "Tas! That other cat almost tore out Father's throat."

  "Let's ask Mother what she wants."

  Helia patted Pretosia.

  "But, Mother--"

  Helia fastened her gaze on his sister and took a shallow breath. "Mine."

  Dessy's scowl said she did not accept it, but the discussion had ended.

  After catching his sister's attention, he stood. "Get everyone out of camp. I'm going to sing."

  Without a word, she turned and fled.

  Six chuckled. "Wow. Is your singing that bad?"

  Pietas took his mother's hand, bowed to her and placed a soft kiss on her fingers. "We'll give Dessy a chance to get everyone to a safe distance, ghost, and then--" He met Six's puzzled gaze "--if you can endure what happens, you'll witness another secret ritual."

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Pietas had killed countless humans, but he'd never sung in front of one.

  The ghost would hear each note; however, his anti-emo chip might block the effect. Even if it did affect him, if singing returned his mother's health, Pietas could not hold back. Six would understand.

  Would it affect Pretosia?

  When he sang, birds and insects took wing. He'd never sung around big cats. From what he'd gathered, these panthers had been bred as warriors. Working animals might appear unaware, but they detected the slightest sound, scent, and vibration.

  So far, the panther appeared asleep, chin on outstretched paws, nose near Helia's feet. Pretosia had curled its long tail around his mother's head like a shepherd's crook. Her every move would broadcast itself to the cat.

  Six leaned on the far wall, nonchalant, disinterested. Intense glances gave away his curiosity.

  While his mother slept, Pietas sat beside her, holding her hand. When several minutes had passed, he opened his senses to the presence of others and found his mother, the ghost, and the cat. He rose, went around behind the pod and faced outward. The acoustics might be better if he sang into the cave instead of out, but even with Six behind him, he would not turn his back on the exit.

  Not yet.

  Had he retained his singing voice? He'd recovered his other gifts, and had vast improvements in his ability to speak mind-to-mind. Could he still sing? Time to find out.

  To keep his voice from going too deep, he placed tongue against teeth and made an extended zzz sound, then did a few lip trills. After a few deep breaths, he hummed. Nothing different in the feel of his throat or vocal chords. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Six. To keep from being distracted, he focused on a spot on the cave's mouth while he continued his warm-up. Starting with middle C, he sang ooh sounds up and down the scale.

  His mother remained still, a slight rise and fall of her chest revealing she breathed. Her white uniform showed less wear than what the others wore, but it was soiled and stained. How it must have chafed her pride to wear such a garment.

  Pietas launched into song. The notes filled the air, their tone pure and clear. The joy of it filled him as he sang. Before the end of the first stanza, his mother opened her eyes. He continued, song after song, vocalizing each word of each line, every song he knew. Words full of victory, honor, duty, pride.

  Six drew himself up, his back ramrod straight. Perhaps that chip did less good than Pietas thought.

  Pretosia turned on its side and rested one huge paw atop his mother's shins, either oblivious or immune.

  Helia had color. She was alert, listening. Smiling.

  The harmonics in his voice generated pleasure ranging from simple enjoyment to rapturous gratification. Some experienced anger, depression, or terror. His voice also possessed curative powers. Not as strong as those with the healing gift called Smooth, but enough to revive the critically ill or injured.

  No other Ultra had such a voice. Though he loved music and possessed absolute pitch, Pietas never performed in public.

  He started an old battle hymn about steel and guts, iron and flesh, the wings and teeth and claws of a killing machine. Glorious for soldiers, yet his fragile, scientist mother moved her hand, keeping time with the music. She drew a long, sighing breath and released it as if she'd held it an eternity.

  Flushed and sweating, Six panted.

  A battle song of warriors in flight came next. Pietas sang of the scorched and blackened soil of the conquered and the poetic justice of fire raining from the sky.

  Color suffused his mother's cheeks. She took his hand.

  Six turned his back, shoulders rounded, head down.

  To end, Pietas chose a slow song of war in a minor key. The ancient tune was a favorite often sung the night after battle. It suited both baritones and tenors. Forged in Fire fit them as exiles. Pietas hummed to set the key, then released the true power of his voice.

  Tears filled his eyes as he reached his favorite stanza. He slowed his pace to emphasize each word.

  We can't forget. We won't forgive. We must return. We shall avenge.

  We never quit. We do not sway. Our enemies--we will repay.

  An Ultra's heart is forged in fire. An Ultra's heart is forged in fire. An Ultra's heart is forged in fire.

  When he finished, the silence was absolute.

  Six darted toward the exit. At the opening, he paused. "Pi, can you--" his voice shook. Keeping his back turned, he coughed. "Can you do without me?"

  "Take your time. Stay close and watch your six."

  His friend disappeared around the corner.

  Pietas touched his mother's brow, then her cheek. "How do you feel?"

  "Better. Weak, but stronger than I was before. Thank you." He
r eyes were several shades lighter than his. When she was happy, they held the same dark outer ring. Like now. "You made him cry." A tear trickled down her cheek.

  He wiped it away. "I wish I could control how my voice affects people. Be easier to defeat my enemies if I could make them cry."

  "I hear you always make them cry."

  He chuckled. "I try. Your skin is cooler but you're still weak. You need the Mingle to heal the rest of the way."

  She stroked the cat's glossy fur. Her emotions had closed to him, solid as a door slammed shut.

  "You don't want the Mingle. Why?"

  She coughed, the sound shallow, tight, wheezy. Her emotional state broadcast itself with stinging pinpricks of frustration. "I can't explain without dishonoring someone."

  "And who, among the handful awake, might that be? As if I didn't know."

  "A scientist doesn't jump to conclusions."

  "He can infer." He came around to the front of the pod, clasped one tiny hand in both of his, and drew it up to his chest. "You find it distasteful having Father's blood mingle with yours and you refuse to say why because it will dishonor him."

  "I can feel your anger, Son."

  "My anger is with him. I understand why you refused. Don't concern yourself. I will not allow him to join the Mingle. His blood will not sully yours or mine. He can hate me for that, not you."

  "Pietas--"

  "Mother, you need the Mingle. Once you're well, perhaps trampled fences can be mended, but for now, you must heal. We need you if we're to survive."

  She held his gaze. "I've missed you. Missed your strength."

  "And I you." He tapped a fist over his heart.

  "Did your human--" Helia's voice cut off. She stared toward the mouth of the cave.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Pietas pivoted. He'd turned his back on the exit. Love for his mother had always made him weak. No, he corrected himself. Her love distracted. Her guidance, compassion, and love had made him the man he was and that was anything but weak.

  Outside the cave stood Six, head down, raking a hand through his hair.

  Helia squeezed Pietas's hand. "Did your human sabotage my pod?"

  "He says he did not. Unlike a normal stasis pod, the Council's pods had immolation settings. He was given the code to activate yours."

  "Dessy said it was why you surrendered."

  "Yes." He reached up to flip back his long tail of hair before recalling he'd cut it. He'd grown accustomed to it falling over his shoulder.

  "You know I'm grateful, Son, but I'm ready to die to keep my people free. As is every member of the Council."

  "As am I. For anyone else, I wouldn't have. If he'd killed you, I'd have given him a death worthy of battle songs for eternity."

  The pride in her expression pierced his soul. She set a fist over her heart. "Yet, now, you trust this man."

  "I do. Did what he do set off a chain reaction that led to your pod's malfunction? Possibly. Did it set disaster in motion? Unknown. He says he had no hand in planning it. He was informed the code was a tool that would make me surrender. He used it and swears he returned the settings to what they were. He claimed he didn't know you were my mother. I believed him."

  "Everyone knows who I am. Not to brag, but I'm a scientist of some renown as well as mother to the Bringer of Chaos. One would think this human had lived in a hole."

  "Did you say 'some renown?' You're the most celebrated terraformer in the galaxy. Still, when I told him it was my mother in that pod, he seemed shocked. I believed him, Mother."

  She gave his friend an appraising look then turned that studious gaze back on Pietas. As a child, he'd been convinced she could hear him thinking. It was half the reason he'd vowed never to lie.

  "You trust a human. A ghost created to kill our kind."

  "With my life. He could have left me to rot within the unpowered pod where they imprisoned me. Gone off to seek his own way anywhere on the planet. He stayed even though he knew I had every reason to kill him. When he rescued me, I weighed less than a child. I was nothing but blackened skin and bones."

  She gasped and covered her mouth, but then reached up and stroked his cheek. "To me, you look pale."

  "It took time for my skin to grow back."

  "That must have hurt."

  He kissed her palm. "I survived."

  "Of course you did. You're an Ultra. But it hurt. How about now?"

  He debated for a second how much to say. "I function, but pain lingers. In time, I assume my body will heal itself. Perhaps the Mingle will help me as well."

  "Yes." Holding his hand, she rubbed it, a distracted expression. "Yes, perhaps it will. For you, Pietas." She patted his hand. "For you, I'll undergo the Mingle."

  How like her. "Thank you, Mother. Six nursed me back to health. Carried me in his arms to bathe me in the river. Fed me with his own hands. I've never been closer to perma-death. Six has been loyal to me beyond measure."

  "Then, Pietas, I accept him."

  "Thank you." He squeezed her hand.

  "But he is not to join the Mingle. He might belong with us, but he's not one of us. I won't allow human blood to mix with mine."

  "I never intended that it should. I do want him to see the ritual performed."

  "Why? Son, this is our most private ceremony. Sacred among our people."

  "He was produced through a corrupt imitation of what we share. To create ghosts, they bled our people and infused our blood with humans near death. They were told our blood resurrected them. I've seen no evidence of that. Six was told he died and they brought him back. Hence, the name Ghost Corps. I'm convinced his creators lied. They could have saved him. Instead, they turned him into a weapon."

  "Do you mean to shame him?"

  "Not at all! Six can't go back to being human. Unlike us, he'll die. While he lives, he's one of us. I know our people won't allow his blood to join ours. I want him to see the beauty of the ritual. To understand the bond that exists among us."

  Outside the cave, Six had gone down on one knee and was drawing in the dirt.

  She looked over at the man again. "You love him, don't you? You don't have to say. I can see it."

  "We're friends, Mother. Nothing more."

  "Are you telling me someone turned down my handsome, charming son?"

  "I've been turned down by legions."

  "Hah. Someone's always courting you. I've been asked about your status many times."

  "My status?"

  "Is Pietas seeing anyone? Is he involved? What gender does he prefer? How often does he take a lover? The questions are endless."

  "Oh, please! You're making that up. No one would ask my mother about my sex life. Besides, I know where you're going with this and I don't need you playing matchmaker. I'm perfectly capable of finding my own lovers."

  Helia regarded him. "Lovers, yes, but not someone to love you. You're always alone. Since you don't seem inclined to do it yourself, I'll find someone for you."

  "Mother!"

  Six squinted at them, but went back to drawing.

  Pietas crossed his arms. "Absolutely not. You will not meddle in my life."

  "We'll see."

  "There is no such thing as 'we'll see.' You will do as I say."

  "When you are in command, I will always do so. But in this, I'm acting as your mother. It's a mother's prerogative to meddle."

  He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from responding and counted to ten. Rapidly. "Do not try to connect me with Six. We are friends. Friends."

  "And you never asked if he was interested?"

  Oh, to be able to lie. "In an impulsive moment, I asked and he said no. We're happy as friends, Mother."

  Helia took his hand in both of hers and patted it. "So you asked him once."

  "Mother..."

  "You're not getting any younger, you know."

  "Yes, I am. Every rebirth takes me back to my late teens. You yourself look about seventeen."

  "You know better than to argu
e with your mother."

  "And you know better than to pressure your son."

  She regarded him in silence. "Immortality doesn't mean you have to be alone."

  "I'm alone by choice. I'm a soldier. A leader. My heart is bound by duty. Desire and passion do not rule my life."

  "Then what does?"

  "I'm insulted you have to ask."

  "Relax." Her sweet smile etched itself into his heart. "I know you're ruled by honor. Did you notice how lovely Joss looks? This world has been good for her. And Erryq and Marjo are--"

  "Enough, Mother. Thank you, but I can take care of myself. I promise."

  "And you always do. You take care of everyone else and ignore yourself. Son, it's nice to have someone who looks after you."

  "Indeed it is. And for that, I have you."

  "It's not the same as a life partner. Your father and I haven't always been happy, but we once were. Pietas, I want you to be happy."

  "I know." Here she was, recovering from what had to be the most serious injury in her immortal life and all she wanted to do was find him someone to love. "How did I ever manage to deserve you?"

  She beckoned him to come close.

  He braced an elbow on her pod.

  "What battle are you preparing to fight?" She lifted a strand of his short hair.

  "Everything I say to Father brings on a battle. I wanted to prepare."

  "He's proud of you. He has a hard time showing it."

  How tempting to lie, but even to reassure her, he would not. "As you always remind me. Like you, I have an eidetic memory. It's not as if I can forget."

  "Remembering and believing are not the same thing." Gazing into his eyes, she set a hand on his cheek and stroked it. "I love you, Son. I want you to be happy. Is it wrong to want someone to love you the way you deserve? But I will respect your answer as well."

  He covered her hand with one of his and turned to kiss her palm. "Thank you."

  "Honor has always mattered more to you than other things, unlike your father." She tossed her head side to side. "I'm sorry for the mess you've found us in. I'm sure you thought the landing site would mean a city and supplies."