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    Star Trek: Voyager: String Theory #3: Evolution: Evolution
    Star Trek: Voyager: String Theory #3: Evolution: Evolution
    Star Trek: Voyager: String Theory #3: Evolution: Evolution
    Ebook430 pages8 hours

    Star Trek: Voyager: String Theory #3: Evolution: Evolution

    By Heather Jarman

    3.5/5

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    ENTANGLED STRANDS OF PAST AND PRESENT ENDANGER THE FUTURE

    A wake of destruction and loss threatens the U.S.S. Voyager ™ as Chakotay assumes command. Grief over Janeway's impending death coupled with anxiety brought on by the disappearance of Paris, Kim, and the Doctor forces the crew to take increasingly dangerous actions in order to assure their own survival.

    But Voyager doesn't fight alone: behind the lines, powerful forces have allied to give the starship aid. Toward this end, a familiar nemesis -- the cosmic meddler Q -- sends Paris and Kim on a perilous journey. Elsewhere, the Doctor, trapped in a dimension alien to human understanding, reunites with an old friend to help secure the fates of those he's left behind.

    Yet the conflict raging in the Monorhan system is merely a surface manifestation of more serious turmoil; the true struggle is rooted in the universe's very foundation. Standing at the eye of this maelstrom is Voyager, whose crew may hold the fate of all.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPocket Books/Star Trek
    Release dateMar 1, 2006
    ISBN9781416523291
    Star Trek: Voyager: String Theory #3: Evolution: Evolution
    Author

    Heather Jarman

    Heather Jarman lives in Portland, Oregon, where she supplements her day job as a tired mommy with her writing career. Her most recent contributions to the Star Trek fiction include "The Officers' Club," the Kira Nerys story in Tales from the Captain's Table, and Paradigm, the Andor novel in Worlds of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Volume One. By night Heather flies to distant lands on black ops missions for the government, where she frequently breaks open industrial-strength cans of whupass on evildoers.

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      I think that there were too many elements introduced into the story, too many sub-plots. Some of the action ended up getting lost and I found myself turning back pages to see what I had missed. Of course that just might mean I'm getting forgetful too.

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    Star Trek - Heather Jarman

    Prologue

    1365 A.D., Old Calendar; Delta Quadrant

    "I won’t allow you to go into the baron’s fortress unprotected. You must conceal a weapon or allow me to carry one." Ced fastened the last clasp at the waist of Lia’s heavy bronze breastplate, and then took a few steps back so he could look her in the eye. She wouldn’t be able to deceive him face-to-face. When it came to the battlefield, Lia might be a cunning, unpredictable strategist, capable of wielding the elements like no seer in Ocampa’s recorded history. Ced had discovered, however, after three rains serving her as her adjunct, that his liege was incapable of telling a convincing lie.

    We have nothing to fear, Ced. The baron is yet unallied. We have a chance to sway him to our side. For a split second, she held eye contact before turning away, shielding her thoughts from him.

    I thought so,Ced thought, wondering what excuses or stories she would try to placate him with. She knew his doubts; her extraordinary telepathic abilities made it almost impossible to hide from her. But Ced wanted his liege to know his fears, hoping perhaps that they would dislodge her stubborn determination to go along with her foolish plan.And I will stand by her, even to death.

    Kneeling down on the rug before her trunk, Lia searched among her weapons and armor for her rank insignia—a frontlet made of animal skin featuring a three-gem triad embedded in the center. She’d chosen to proclaim her status the ancient way, following the example of such notable warrior-seers as Sie, Mey, and the greatest of all, the female Ocampa Lav. Lav, too, had been born in a time of planetary tumult and had chosen to use her psionic abilities to wage battle against oppression, rallying her followers behind the standard of the three stars, represented by a triad of gems. Lia’s deliberate invocation of Lav in the minds of both her followers and enemies inspired the proper amount of fear and trust. Ced had wondered, as did others, if Lia was Lav reborn, come to save Ocampa in what he believed would be their most desperate fight yet. At the very least, Ced believed that Lav must have been among Lia’s knowledge-progenitors, with her lifetime of learning being among those engrams transferred to Lia during her first year.

    Usually the sages kept careful records of who among them held the knowledge of illustrious forebears like General Lav or King Gran the Wise. The sages were supposed to be egalitarian and random about transferring such unique experience and knowledge to newborn Ocampa, giving all Ocampans equal access to their heritage. In practice, the sages hoarded their prestigious engrams, bestowing them far more selectively than they ought to. That someone of Lia’s undistinguished parentage, who at the moment of her birth had been determined to have only the bare minimum psionic skills necessary to function in Ocampan society—a neutral—could emerge as the greatest warrior-seer of her age was proof to Ced that forces beyond understanding were at work in their lives. Ocampa certainly needed the help.

    Already five moons had passed without any sign of the rains returning. Rumors had reached Lia and Ced that Mestof had warrior-seer advisors manipulating the planet’s elements in such a way that the rains could be forcibly withheld. Lia and her followers saw the parched western continent as evidence of their power. Already, the moats and canals of their great cities had dropped to historically low levels. Aquaculture factories and processors shut down production as lakes and rivers became too shallow to cultivate. All feared shortages come harvest time. Rationing would address the worst of the problem; few would starve. The Ocampa were helpless, however, to prevent a more deadly phenomenon linked to the elimination of the rains: the ongoing erosion of the planet’s protective cloud layer.

    Ocampan evolution occurred in a nearly sunless environment, or so Ced had been taught. For the few rotations where the cloud layer thinned enough to allow more light and thus radiation in, the Ocampa typically lived indoors. Traditionally, the sunny seasons were known as the hibernation times. While the low levels of light filtering through the cloud layer were critical to Ocampan growth and development, continuous, direct exposure to sunlight was deadly. Ocampans’ physiology—from their lack of protective skin pigmentation to sense organs such as their radiation-sensitive retinas—wasn’t equipped to handle heavy sunlight. Even neurological functioning seemed to be impaired when an Ocampa absorbed too much sun energy.

    Whatever (or whoever, thought Ced) had stopped the rain had also begun dissolving the cloud layer. At first, preoccupation with planetside water shortages had prevented the researchers from focusing their attention elsewhere. All energies were devoted to solving the water crisis. Then the malignant skin lesions and miscarriages proliferated, and sunny days came with more frequency, forcing researchers to face the unthinkable: Ocampa was losing its water. It wasn’t as simple as historical shifts in water distribution due to weather or other environmental factors. What researchers discovered was a steady downward trend in net planetary water resources: The water was slowly disappearing and wasn’t reappearing in the form of water vapor, underground water table reserves, or ice pack.

    Many refused to believe the evidence, attributing the changing climate to fluke circumstances that would ultimately reverse on their own. The spiritually minded believed that Ocampa was on the receiving end of supernatural punishment and that an apocalypse was upon them. Some in governing conclave councils believed that these droughts would pass. They wanted only to deal with the most immediate concerns: feeding their people and protecting them from the increasingly serious sunlight problem. Others, like those who followed Lia, believed that the planetary environment was being artificially manipulated by the power-mad Mestof and his followers. She vowed to do whatever was required to stop Mestof from systematically bringing all of Ocampa under his rule by this cruelest of blackmail. The most gifted seers dismissed Lia’s allegations as being impossible; no one wielded the kind of power required to diminish Ocampa’s water supply. They labeled General Lia crazy and dismissed her as a radical with political aspirations of her own. In some quarters, her military quests were seen as insane crusades against an imaginary enemy.

    Ced, a retired soldier, had been a member of a conclave council that chose to avoid involvement in all conflicts. He’d faithfully executed his council duties, believing he was in the right until a moon ago when he saw General Lia marshal her troops against Mestof’s in an effort to prevent his conclave from being annexed to Mestof. He watched, horrified, as his fellow councillors made no effort to protect themselves or those who had elected them, so he had abandoned his post to fight beside Lia’s troops. When the battle ended, he had pledged the service of his lance to Lia and had never looked back.

    Now he functioned as her closest advisor; together they plotted stratagems that they hoped would lead to Mestof’s demise. To this end, Lia would approach the last lineal baron of the western hemisphere to see if he would join forces with her against Mestof. Baron Var had land and resources that Lia would require should she attempt to mount a serious offensive attack on Mestof’s forces.

    At last Lia found the rank insignia, carefully wrapped and tied in a bundle of waterproof cloth. Ced watched as she reverently unwound the cloth and removed the insignia. It was no small feat for one of Lia’s ilk to ascend to the command of an army at the young age of three. Centering the gem-encrusted piece in the middle of her forehead, she threaded it over her ears and tied the straps at the base of her skull, beneath the abundant blond plaits streaming down her back. My gifts will protect us, she said confidently. If they attempt to lay a hand on either of us, I’ll invoke a shield around us.

    And when you employ that tactic in battle, we have you surrounded with a squadron of warriors, protecting you from whatever mischief Mestof concocts,Ced thought. But in the trance state, your self-defense options are limited—

    She placed a finger to his lips. I trust you to help protect me. A slight smile softened her serious expression. The baron will not grant an audience to one who shows up with a militia pounding on his door with fire lances. We go without the others. Taking a seat on a three-legged stool beside the trunk, she fished behind her mussed sleeping cot until she found her fire lance secured in its carrying case. She discarded the carrying case, slid open the lance’s control panel, and began adjusting the weapon’s circuitry, which she’d previously customized.

    How else can I help prepare for the journey, my liege, Ced said quietly.

    Knowing you are beside me is enough,she spoke to his mind, and returned to her task.

    Not for the first time, Ced studied his general’s lovely, youthful face, wishing for all the rain of Ocampa that the sooths had found greater psionic abilities in him so he could be granted the right to offer suit to Lia. She hadn’t yet taken a first, let alone the three or four mates that were the prerogative of one in her position. With herelogium soon at hand, Ced wondered at her continuing reluctance to choose a mate; he personally knew of several suitors with both the required mental gifts and the rank to court someone of Lia’s stature. It had recently come to Ced’s attention that suspicious conclave members, gossiping indiscreetly, had speculated that Lia was a fraud and would be unable to deceive a psionically gifted mate.Perhaps she is simply waiting to see how events play out with the baron before she commits to anyone. Even that didn’t make sense to Ced.Carrying a child should enhance her mental acumen in battle, so why delay? Could it be she hasn’t found the right mate yet—that she might have formed attachments to someone not well suited to her?

    Like yourself,came the thought.

    In your dreams,came the answer.

    As was usually the case when these thoughts occurred, Ced quickly shuttled them aside. Why would a female of Lia’s beauty and exceptional gifts desire a homely mate, one balding, advancing in age, and whose damaged body bore six years of battle scars and poorly healed wounds? He could hardly move without his hot, swollen joints shooting pain into his limbs. Serving Lia and her cause gave him the will to ignore his misery, to put aside his longing to transfer his meager engrams to a sage and embrace the Other Life. His reborn self might not return to location a time or place where he could be close to Lia as he was in this time so he would endure as long as he could.

    Suddenly, the fabric door of the tent parted, admitting Lia’s senior counselor, who was flushed and panting. He clutched at his abdomen in an effort to regulate his breath.Not good news, Ced thought grimly. He turned, met Tel’s sober gaze. Speak, Patriarch.

    The counselor righted himself and inhaled sharply. The messenger has returned from Palal, he said, his voice gravelly with fatigue. The city fell to Mestof’s forces less than a moon ago but our allies in the region have already been routed out and killed.

    Mestof must have sent in sooths to thought-probe the city’s residents, Lia said. That’s the only way they could have so readily identified those who sympathize with us.

    Not possible, Ced said. No sooth has the ability to ascertain such specific information.If they can, our efforts to stop the war and fight the warning will amount to dust. There will be no place we can go where the enemy can’t know our plans. As Lia’s adjunct, he had to always consider the worst possible potential outcomes, especially since Lia was such an idealist.

    And recall how I was designated a neutral when it came to the gifts. The sooths sent me to the factories, where I labored for several seasons before my gifts manifested themselves. These are strange days, Ced. Anything is possible.

    We can’t risk going into the baron’s fortress, General, Ced reiterated. Should Mestof have spies in the court with the ability to thought-probe us, all our intentions will be known.

    There is something odd about how Mestof is proceeding. I believe if all his servants had the gifts displayed at Palal, he would have destroyed us already instead of engaging us in the occasional skirmish or minor battle. No, I believe that Mestof hasn’t found a way to create an army of psionically gifted warriors, rather that someone in Mestof’s ranks has abilities we’ve never seen before.

    There are stories, General, Tel said, of two such warriors whom Mestof counts among his closest advisors. It is said that they can use their gifts to create hallucinations in the minds of many simultaneously. They can direct water from out of a streambed into the sky and call up fire from the ground.

    I’ve heard those rumors too, Tel, Lia said. And while there are those that discount them, I’m inclined to believe there is truth in the stories somewhere. Just how much, I cannot say. We must persuade the baron to come over to the Alliance—that much is certain.Are you ready? she spoke to Ced.

    For a brief moment, she unshielded her thoughts and Ced felt her anxiety.

    I will defend you to my death, my liege,he said.

    Should it come to that, Ced, we will die together.

    As they traveled through the outlying villages and past the farms and factories on Baron Var’s land, Lia felt reassured. Many Ocampans paused from their labors to wish them well. She could sense the stress the drought had brought to their lives and their desire for a quick resolution to the conflict they believed was the cause of the drought. They needed to look no further than to the eastern hemisphere to know what kind of autocrat Mestof was and how he threatened what limited freedoms these peasants had under Var’s rule. Mestof took generous tribute for himself from every field tilled in his districts. Var wasn’t nearly as greedy.

    Though he was a generous and reasonable governor, Baron Var had granted little autonomy to those who worked his lands; they had a long struggle ahead to obtain the rights that those in Lia’s district had obtained. Still, there was no question that all would suffer if Mestof won in the end. Lia counted on the baron having come to the same conclusion.

    She and Ced were admitted almost immediately after they appeared at the gates. There was no question in her mind that they were expected, that the baron’s spies had informed their liege of every move they’d made within his lands. He’d probably made up his mind whether he had any interest in their cause. Even utilizing her powers to their fullest, she’d yet to learn what the baron’s intentions were. She’d have expected to overhear an indiscreet thought among those who lacked either the gifts or the mind discipline to protect their privacy. After a long winding trek through the grand and spacious palace, she entered the baron’s inner chambers without any of the advantages that she usually had, a fact that she diligently hid from Ced. He worried enough without having to know how precarious their circumstances were. As was required, she surrendered her lance to the guards at the entrance. Then doors banged closed behind her, and she heard the security bars slide into their slots with a jarring clang and a click: there would be no easy escape from this place.

    How she could move freely on a battlefield overrun with spear-wielding warriors intent on slaughtering her and feel safer than she did now in this nearly silent place might be amusing were circumstances less dire. She looked around the circular perimeter and saw Var’s advisors studying her intently, their beady dark eyes, buried in wrinkled pockets of pallid gray skin, intently following her every step from their perches on stiff, high-backed chairs. From above, a cold blue light pierced the translucent marble dome, shrouding the room in catacomb-like half-light. She walked slowly across the stone floor, her feet shuffling over the ornate inlaid patterns of green and gold and white. At the center of the room, at a point directly beneath the dome, she stopped.

    Baron Var sat at the point opposite her on a dais, surrounded by his mates, his legates, and his household servants. She immediately felt his mind searching for hers so she shielded her thoughts.

    You want my forces to join your cause, he said finally. He leaned forward in his chair, resting his hands on his thighs and staring at her intently.

    If you want to protect your holdings from Mestof, yes, Lia said. You will lose your sovereignty if you fail to act.

    Var waved his hand. Mestof has assured me that he has no interest in my holdings. I am in no danger from him.

    If you believe that, you are a gullible fool.

    A gasp rose from the crowds. The advisors shifted in their chairs and a low murmur of chatter rose up from their ranks.

    You are the gullible fool if you believe you’re among friends, General Lia. Var rose from his chair.

    He had powers rivaling hers; she felt them pricking at the edges of her consciousness. Unveiling her mind, she fairly shouted:Mestof makes fools of whomever he deals with. Ask King Tek—oh wait. You can’t. Mestof beheaded him the day they were to sign their nonaggression treaty.

    Tek was a figurehead with no warrior-guard to speak of, never mind the man was a fool,Var argued back.I will not form an alliance with one who cannot win.

    Do not mistake me for one who cannot win, Baron, Lia said, walking forward until she stood near the base of the dais. I am not here because I seek power. She fell to her knees. Should you require it, I will swear an oath to give my allegiance to you when Mestof is defeated.

    Var took a few steps down the dais stairs. If I accept your allegiance, Mestof will surely make me a target for his next attack, he said gruffly. For a brief moment, he flooded her mind with his concerns for his people, his anxiety over the drought—his doubts about her personally—before abruptly shielding his mind again. He would not risk it. He would fight to the death to protect what he had, but he would not willingly taunt or engage Mestof in open war.

    All that Lia had fought for came down to this moment. She could continue to pester Mestof and try to wear down his forces, but she knew that ultimately, she was merely a fingerfish to a leviathan. Unless Baron Var could be persuaded of the rightness of their cause. Ocampa is dying, she said, imbuing her words with feeling but avoiding sentimentality. She would not win by emotion, but by reason. "I cannot claim to fully understand the mischief Mestof wields, but surely you cannot fail to understand what is happening on your own lands among those who call you liege. The rain is gone and with it, the crops. Within a season, your people will become weak from malnutrition. They will have to labor twice as hard for half the harvest, and in the end you will have nothing to offer the merchants who come in from the north. You will become vulnerable. How can you fail to see that this is exactly what Mestof wants?

    Unless the rains come, what’s now verdant and arable will become inhospitable waste, and where once you were known as a strong but compassionate merchant prince you will find that you preside over a dying kingdom with no choice but to surrender all you have to Mestof. Lia raised her gaze to his face and wrestled his eyes until they locked with hers. "You will end your days in disgrace, leaving your heirs with nothing.

    Regardless of what you choose to do today, I will continue my fight. I will fight until Mestof’s wizards destroy me with their evil sooth-doing and my blood drenches Ocampa’s thirsty soil. I come to you seeking an alliance of like minds—those who refuse to accept the destiny Mestof is determined to foist upon us. Her head fell back and she raised her face to the light streaming through the domed roof of the hall. Opening her arms, she closed her eyes and invoked the trance, pushing away her surroundings. She heard protests—felt their animosity pushing against her, trying to disrupt her invocation. She received their angry energy, transformed it into fortification for her own thoughts, and then released.

    A faint buzzing tickled her ears as she extended her awareness beyond her five senses and into the substance of the marble, ascertaining the character and cohesiveness of the bonds that gave it form until she knew each molecule and atom. Her thoughts sang to the smallest particles until they vibrated in harmony with her song. Slowly, the chorus swelled as each particle acknowledged and embraced the music she offered. She pushed through the stone and into the air flowing in and around the building, seeking to know each element individually; she acknowledged their uniqueness and bid the elements to seek for like elements. She called to the matter and gathered it together.

    Beyond the edge of her consciousness, she heard an earsplitting crack, felt the air dislodging as large chunks of marble fell from the sky and crashed on the floor around her. There was a sting on her cheek as a stone pellet grazed her skin. Screams and shouts of protest made the air around her tremble. She maintained her focus, continuing her call to the elements, pushing her thoughts as far as she ever had. Slowly her strength was sapped from her limbs, but she refused to relent, focusing her will as far as her mind could reach—farther.

    A breath of cool damp.

    A faraway crack of thunder.

    A gray shadow suddenly enveloped the sun; mist swallowed the room in a damp fog.

    Droplets touched her parched lips.

    The sky growled, convulsed.

    The room trembled.

    Rain poured through the shattered dome.

    A weak smile touched Lia’s lips; her awareness dilated, then contracted, diminishing into a pinprick of black.

    Ced struggled in the grips of the guards who held him fast, preventing him from rushing to Lia’s aid. I want to help her! He shouted to be heard over the rain rattling against the stone floors. His gaze never left the crumpled, unconscious form on the floor before him. He saw a rivulet of blood drizzling down her pale cheek and wondered what other injuries she might have sustained from falling debris. Around him, chaos reigned. Those racing to make a panicked escape from the chamber barely outnumbered those shocked by the miraculous appearance of rain within the baron’s hall.

    What if an attack is next? Ced heard one of his guards say to his compatriot.

    Seconds later, the guard removed a knife from his belt with his free hand, briefly brandished it before Ced’s face, and then pressed the flat side of the blade against the skin of Ced’s throat. We should kill him before he can help her—

    If we anger her, she might kill us!

    But we can’t let him go—

    Bind him!

    Without further discussion, the guards roughly threw Ced into a chair formerly occupied by one of the advisors and manacled his wrists to the armrest.

    Ced threw all his weight forward, kicking at his captors’ legs, trying to leverage himself off their torsos by pushing against them with his boots—anything to get the traction he needed to wrestle free. The knife-wielding guard turned angrily on Ced, throwing a hard punch against the side of his head—

    Wait.Ced’s body went slack, his eyes drawn toward a place over his guard’s shoulder. He barely noticed that his guard’s knife arm had dropped to his side and that his captor too had been distracted. Though Ced was a neutral, even he sensed the energy shift in the room, as if a pent-up sigh had been exhaled.

    Something changed….No, he mentally corrected,someone has changed us. A tall male Ocampa of unknown rank and position calmly parted the crowds huddled nervously around the baron; each serene step he took across the dais seemingly dissipated the crowd’s turbulent mood. Ced had never seen anything like this ability to assuage a crowd—even during the meditations Lia led with the troops before battle. Anxious cries and talk diminished until only the rain, mingled with a small child’s hiccoughing sobs, could be heard.

    From the dais, the stranger walked down the stairs toward Lia’s broken form, apparently unaffected by the rain and blustering winds. He paused where he stood. As his gaze swept the chamber, the rain slowed to a trickle—then stopped. Wispy, white vapor seeped through the stones, disturbed by the sporadic plinks of droplets.

    Ced tensed, a surge of concern for his liege sending his pulse racing. And yet…Ced lacked the willpower to move—or even to cry out warning against those who would harm his liege.Forgive me, Lia, for failing you, he thought, wishing his liege could hear him. Panic gave way to a curious sense of trust: Ced knew, though he couldn’t say how, that the stranger wouldn’t hurt Lia.

    Ced watched, mesmerized as the stranger bent down and scooped Lia up one-handed, cradling her as if she weighed nothing. He touched his free hand to the wound on her cheek: the blood disappeared and no trace of the wound was left behind. Ced blinked, certain that his eyes deceived him in the wan light, but no, a faint flush of color was returning to Lia’s skin. The dark-haired stranger tenderly untangled the sodden mass of braids, and as he did so, Lia shuddered. To Ced’s relief, her eyelids flickered, opened, and he heard her take in a ragged breath and cough. His heart sang out:She is alive! Thank the maker! A doting smile curled the stranger’s lips as he cupped her face, gazing on Lia with what Ced could only call wonderment. The stranger began speaking but Ced heard nothing. The sibilant hiss of the stranger’s unintelligible whispers became a counterpoint to the intermittent plipplop of water dripping on the floor.

    Even at this distance, Ced felt as if he were witnessing a private moment, though he lacked the strength or desire to avert his gaze. As he looked around him, it appeared the others in the room felt similarly. Those who just moments ago had been inclined to kill him stared dumbly at Lia and her rescuer.

    Ced might have gawked along with the others had the buzzing, low-pitched thrum not distracted him. At first, he thought his hearing might have been affected by the guard’s punch. He shook his head, hoping to disrupt whatever stimulus might be causing the noise. Instead, the thrumming became louder.

    One possibility: Insects might have swarmed into the hall when Lia had broken the dome. Their troops had certainly encountered clouds of biting gnats and disease-carrying dust flies, now endemic to Ocampa since the rains had stopped. Because his hands were still bound, he rubbed his ear with his shoulder, hoping to discourage or brush off any flying pests that might be buzzing near his head. Around him, the air stirred as people on all sides shuffled and shifted.The thrall of Lia’s rescue must be wearing off. He tensed, worried that the mob might reignite and the melee resume. Years of military service had finely honed his instincts, though, and he ascertained, without being able to fully survey his surroundings that the crowd’s agitation wasn’t antagonistic. Still, the rapidly shifting environment troubled him more than his own discomfort. A single command could rupture the peace, turning a complacent follower into a snarling attacker. He had to be watchful for the sake of his liege. Whoever this rescuer might be, it was Ced who had sworn an oath to protect the general and it was Ced who would give his life, if necessary, to that end. Deeply reluctant, he tore his eyes from Lia and looked around him. Misery appeared to afflict the entire room; the earlier calm had been completely banished. Some swatted their ears or shook their heads; others massaged their temples or pressed their hands against their faces. The baron shifted restlessly on his throne, pulling his cloak up over his head and burying himself beneath it. Ced, too, fought the impulse to shield himself from the sound. He longed to tuck his legs up against his body or huddle in a corner, though being shackled to the chair made such action impossible.

    By now, the thrumming noise reverberated throughout the chamber, intensifying to a degree that he could feel the thrum in his bones until he ached. He groaned aloud. Constant vibrations sent twinges through his molars and jaw and sent pain radiating through his skull. He focused his will and pushed aside all distractions and for a brief moment directed all his thoughts, confused as they were, toward Lia. In spite of his limited capacity to initiate psionic communication with her, the combination of her gifts and her familiarity with him would make her especially susceptible to his thoughts. His fear, his concerns, his worries—his love—for her filed his mind; he willed her to receive his message and, in turn, send a message to his mind.Answer me, my liege. Let me know all is not lost.

    Nothing.

    And again, he extended his thoughts, directing them toward his liege. Instantaneously, the thrumming increased. First his hands shook, then his arms, until his body convulsed uncontrollably.Where is this noise coming from? His wrists jerked against the manacles, slicing his skin to ribbons. Blood drizzled onto his fingers.Hear me, General!

    Lia! he cried out.

    He remained alone in his thoughts.

    A close-by child had doubled over, hands pressed over her ears, shoulders hunched. The mother, face contorted with pain, muttered soothing comforts to her whimpering child even as involuntary tears streamed down her cheeks. He must spare his liege this pain. Throwing his legs forward, he scooted his chair a few centimeters. He repeated the action, and again, until he had nearly cleared the perimeter of the crowd. The pillars holding up the ceiling shook; the rock walls groaned and creaked. An earsplitting crack overhead warned of the building’s probable collapse. A man off to Ced’s side fainted. Fighting the effects of the thrumming drained Ced’s strength; remaining alert and focused under these circumstances became more difficult with each passing moment. Only his pledge to Lia gave him the will to push deeper within himself to find the will to continue holding on. Pain eroded his grasp of reason. He despaired of his weakness, pleading for mercy on Lia’s behalf.

    An unfamiliar yet soothing voice whispered to his mind:Take heart, good Ced. Whether you live or die, your liege will be well cared for. There is a greater plan…

    And just as abruptly as it had begun, the thrumming ceased and was replaced by a strange, golden-red glow from the center of the room. The stranger, still holding Lia, transformed before Ced’s eyes. Though he still appeared to be as Ocampan as Ced, the stranger—and Lia—changed into varying monochromatic colors and seemed to flatten from three dimensions to two, as if they were shifting into another state. Their shadowy, ribbonlike forms undulated into slow, rippling waves, bending until their appearance was disproportionate and distorted, nearly beyond recognition. The outline of their bodies blurred, their edges began dissipating like mist rising off a lake. Beneath them, the stone softened into slate gray goo. The stranger’s feet vanished, dissolving into the floor. For a brief second, Ced thought a hole had opened and would swallow the stranger and Lia. His heart skipped a panicked beat. He cursed his misfortune to be trapped in this chair. A bright, white light burst forth from the center of the room—as if a fountain of fire had erupted through the floor. He turned his eyes away from the blinding light; the thrumming resumed, quickly shifting into a high-pitched squeal. The vibrations cracked the surrounding walls. Deep in the earth, tremors boomed.

    As abruptly as it started, the light was gone.

    And Lia with it.

    I will find you! Ced screamed, anguished. But the roar of collapsing stone drowned out his words. He felt the whoosh of stones and dust rumbling past, heard the terrified screams all around him.I have to survive this. I have to survive this so I can save her! he thought, throwing all his weight forward, hoping the chair would offer him a small measure of protection from the cave-in. He hit the floor face-first with such impact that he knew, from the instant he hit, that the blow would fell him. Warm blood gushing from his scalp coated his eyelids, poured down his cheeks. Tempestuous dizziness dislodged all his senses—he no longer knew which way was up or where he was; nausea twisted his insides. A single thought from an unfamiliar mind pierced the dark confusion swiftly overtaking him:

    Your death will not be in vain, faithful servant.

    Chapter 1

    The Doctor floated in black so

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