Firesoul: Volume Three of the Chay Trilogy

By Gloria H. Giroux

DECADES HAVE PASSED since the bitter war of independence between Ptolem and Osiron. Both planets have settled into a peaceful coexistence, thanks in great part to the efforts of the Ptolemii Triumvirii Pyke and his longtime spouse, Ambassador Prince Vin-Chay. The men and their family have survived incredible personal trials, including a vicious and unexpected attack from long-dead enemies who had set in motion familial and social changes for generations to come. Pyke and Vin-Chay have been linchpins in building a stable, progressive new government for Ptolem, and are living in tranquility and prosperity amongst their large family.

They now find their lives and the very future of their worlds on the precipice of total destruction from an enemy who has risen from the ashes of failure and redefines any imaginable concept of evil. Their last and most desperate battle against the satanic force that relentlessly seeks the obliteration of the Chay family surpasses any horror they have ever endured. They are brought to the edge of madness in a conflagration of bloodthirsty hate, vengeance and passion, an ultimate showdown between good and evil.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 24, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450272391

Gloria H. Giroux

Gloria H. Giroux was born in North Adams, MA. Raised in Hartford, CT, she graduated from Bulkeley High School, the University of Connecticut and the Computer Processing Institute subsequently embarking on a double career of IT and writing. The author of nineteen fiction novels, Keene Retribution is homage to a special place in her life in New England. She currently lives in Arizona where she is working on her next book.

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Uncle Bruno, my very de facto ‘dad’ whose most endearing and annoying qualities I infused into the ubiquitous Sar-Chay: a sense of infallibility, an unexpected and sly sense of humor, generosity, compassion, amazing obstinacy and fortitude, and a very special heart of gold encased in a rather crusty but vulnerable and ultimately mortal shell.

Your presence in my life helped make me who I am; your absence will inevitably make me the person I’ve yet to become.

Thank you.

Cast of Characters

Pyke: Ptolemii ruling Triumvirii, married to Vin-Chay

Vin-Chay: Osiran ambassador to Ptolem, married to Pyke

Cobahr: Pyke’s and Vin-Chay’s eldest son, sired by Pyke

Pyco-Chay: Pyke’s and Vin-Chay’s second son, sired by Vin-Chay

Constantine: Pyke’s and Vin-Chay’s third son, sired by Pyke

Shayne: Pyke’s and Vin-Chay’s fourth son, sired by Vin-Chay

Zander: Pyke’s and Vin-Chay’s fifth son, sired by Pyke

Domii: Pyke’s and Vin-Chay’s adopted daughter, sired by Vin-Chay’s late Brother, Dom-Chay

Dante: Pyco-Chay’s son by Medea, twin of Darian

Darian: Pyco-Chay’s son by Medea, twin of Dante

Aurora: Pyco-Chay’s daughter by Medea

Bahrtok: Pyke’s former father-in-law, father of Coba, Cobahr’s deceased mother

Colyn: Pyke’s former mother-in-law, mother of Coba, Cobahr’s deceased mother

Nik-Chay: Vin-Chay’s younger brother, a high commander in Ptolem’s security forces, InterSec

Sar-Chay: Vin-Chay’s paternal uncle, the supreme commander of Osiron’s security forces

Ren-Chay: Sar-Chay’s son and heir

Rosaline: Vin-Chay’s youngest sister, an educator of special children

Alyssine: Vin-Chay’s younger sister, a solicitor on Osiron

Brucero: Vin-Chay’s youngest brother and financial consultant

Mandara: Vin-Chay’s sister-in-law, widow of his late brother Dom-Chay, mother of Domii

Cassian: Vin-Chay’s former comrade-in-arms and adopted brother, a commander in Ptolem’s security forces, InterSec

Tutmi: Cassian’s eldest daughter by his late wife, Zulikka, wife to Cobahr, and an officer in Ptolem’s security forces, InterSec

Cassiopeia: Cassian’s youngest daughter by his late wife, Zulikka, and an asclepian-in-training

Aristine: Ptolemii ruling Triumvirii and close Chay friend

Phaedra: Aristine’s eldest daughter, a high commander in Ptolem’s security forces, InterSec, and Cassian’s second wife

Persephone: Aristine’s youngest daughter, a warrior asclepian and companion of Nik-Chay

Japheth: Osiran commander in Ptolem’s security forces, InterSec, assigned to Pyke’s detail; Rosaline’s husband

Zandran: Ptolemii commander in Ptolem’s security forces, InterSec, and close Chay friend

Cheyenne: Ptolemii sub-commander in Ptolem’s security forces, InterSec

Zane: Leader of a secret desert society of Osiran ex-slaves and descendants

Devin: Zane’s second-in-command

Caethe: A man of mysterious and insidious origins who held the child Santii in thrall

Santii: A child of unknown origins secreted away by Caethe

Contents

PROLOGUE

BOOK ONE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

BOOK TWO

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

BOOK THREE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Fifty-One Eighty-Nine

Crown Prince Chay Sarashi DeGrec slowly sipped his goblet of annise. He closed his eyes and smiled at the pleasurable, subtle physical enjoyment. He relished the distinctive, aged flavor of the beverage, an import from a southern province of Ptolem. He enjoyed having an endless supply of the tasteful spirits––and other delectable foodstuffs––courtesy of his favorite nephew, Prince Chay Vinetio DeGael-DeGrec. Vin-Chay and Nik-Chay often sent unexpected gifts of the palate to their birthworld relatives, quite often on one of the commercial vessels which formed an integral part of their brother Bru-Chay’s growing financial empire. As substantial partners in Brucero’s companies they had seen their own finances expand significantly since they had emigrated from Osiron. Brucero acted as conservator for his brothers’ fortunes, and the Tuscany agriplex.

Sar-Chay focused his concentration back on his family as they all were finishing up their evening dining in the main hall of the original Chay compound. He observed an intense discussion between his daughter Roana and her husband, Lorka, the chief lexographer at the Etruscan Culturplex. He was amazed that the marriage between his imposing, demanding child and her quiet, unobtrusive spouse had sustained for ten years and two young children, a grandson and granddaughter. He smiled at Ren-Chay’s twin daughters and son Perseus, who would one day inherit his crown. The boy was a fine descendent, albeit a bit average in his current intellectual abilities.

Rennaro caught his father’s eye and smiled at him as he raised his own small goblet in a silent, affectionate toast as his warm amber eyes crinkled in affection for his regal parent. The asclepian had matured in many ways over the last five years as he realized his future obligations. His distance from the Crown of Chay had allowed him a great deal of leeway in how he conducted himself personally. He had never disgraced his name, but he often acted with both unconscious and occasionally deliberate disregard for some people and concepts. He had often acted precipitously towards his cousin, Vin-Chay, and that man’s spouse and children, sometimes out of envy, and sometimes––he didn’t know why.

The Heir-Prince heard Bru-Chay laugh happily. His newlywed cousin couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off his wife of three weeks. He had courted the vivacious, petite, red-haired daughter of a business associate with a single-minded purpose––so very Chay-like––and had won her heart and expected fortune. The young man’s father would have been frustrated at his youngest son’s choice of a non-royal bride, but that was part of the many changes in their lives. At least Alyssine had finally married Prince Rue Henrii, the father of her two daughters. Everyone had breathed a sigh of relief at that coupling, although their spirited and unique dance of courtship had provided much enjoyment and fodder for the families and populace during their eight-year romance.

Sar-Chay watched H’Elene engage in lively conversation with her longtime suitor, Prince Tii Seth. The rotund, rather jolly, widowed brother of the Crown Prince of Tii had been wooing Chay Shayne’s widow for the better part of three years, and finally seemed to be making some progress, but the man still had a long way to go. Sar-Chay had a feeling that he would go the distance, however, and H’Elene stood a second chance at the marital happiness that had been missing from her life for nearly twenty years. No one deserved that happiness more.

Unless it was Sar-Chay’s two errant but adored nephews, now resident on Ptolem. Sar-Chay sighed; the men were hopeless. One had abandoned all sanity to marry a completely unsuitable spouse, and had had the audacity to remain happily married to him for twenty years––in addition to their five years of pre-marital consortium. That was bad enough, but to also abandon his duty and throw away a tradition of many generations was unfathomable. He had obviously had a detrimental effect on his younger brother, who had also abandoned his duty and relocated to a world once considered an enemy. He missed them so, particularly Vin-Chay, who was special to him for many other reasons of the heart.

Sar-Chay thought it was time to show his family the gift he had received only that day from his errant kinsman. He cleared his throat loudly.

I received a special gift from Vin-Chay this morning, and I would like to share it with all of you as we celebrate this mid-summer sabbat, he said as he reached down to lift a half-meter-square, wrapped package from the floor next to his chair. Sar-Chay unwrapped the framed object. He smiled wistfully.

The gift was a large holograph, not a painting. H’Elene laughed out loud happily and clapped her delicate, slender hands together.

I have been asking Vin-Chay for a holograph of the entire family, and he has finally sent just the perfect one, she said.

Yes, perfect, her son Bru-Chay murmured softly as he stared at the picture and felt a pang of longing for his two absent elder brothers and younger sister, whom he hadn’t seen for so very long.

Two obviously happy, impressive couples filled the center of the twenty-five-person holograph, which had been taken outside of the main Ptolemii worship temple near the Pharonic Pyramid. At the center of the family were Vin-Chay and his spouse, Triumvirii Lord Pyke, and Cobahr and his new bride, TutMi. The rest of their immediate and extended family flanked them.

Pyke was dressed in his formal gold and silver Triumvirii uniform, and Vin-Chay wore the formal, deep-blue, black-accented garb of the ranking ambassador position that he had held for five years. Pyke’s hair, as always, was clasped back, away from his face, but the wide threads of silver were clearly viewable in the locks of the sixty-two-year-old Ptolemii. Vin-Chay’s long black mane, shot through with swaths of silver, was loose and framed his regal face. He radiated an air of elegance and power.

Cobahr was dressed in formal sand-colored wedding garments, with highlights of rust, brown and white accentuating his waist, wrists, and boots. His gold-trimmed white cloak fell to the ground, and the gold princeling coronet he wore on his forehead glittered in the bright sunlight. His shoulder-length blond hair was as loose as his Osiran father’s, and long bangs framed the light blue eyes crinkled in a peaceful smile. He held his new wife’s hands, and the duplicate double marriage rings of gem-encrusted platinium on both of their hands sparkled even more than Vin-Chay’s eyes did.

TutMi was stunning. She had changed from a slim, pretty teenager into a resplendent twenty-one-year-old woman and newly invested warrior lieutenant. Dozens and dozens of beaded braids of hair fell to her waist, capped by a tiara of multi-colored gems. She wore her sixteenth-birthanniv jewels around her throat and in her ears, with the ring adorning her slim left hand. Her cerulean wedding robe shimmered with thousands of hand-sewn gems and beads, and the veil attached to her tiara draped down her back to the ground. Her jewel-encrusted sword draped from her slim waist, the platinium highlights shimmering in the bright sun. Her high cheekbones accentuated her heavily kohled eyelids, which had a wide swath of vivid emerald green above them to contrast with the color of her silver-gray eyes. The expression on her face said that she had gotten exactly what she wanted out of life––Cobahr. Every centimeter of her radiated her royal heritage and special upbringing in the Chay household during her formative years.

Her stepmother, High Commander Phaedra, was more beautiful than Sar-Chay remembered her from the last holograph he had seen of her, taken at her wedding to Cassian when she was eight months pregnant. The result of that pregnancy, a smart, inquisitive little four-year-old, red-haired, green-eyed boy, VinMose, stood next to her. He was holding his father’s hand, since his mother’s arms were occupied with his blond, six-month-old brother, Aristocles. Sar-Chay thought that Cassian had never looked happier, or more alive.

Phaedra’s father, Triumvirii Lord Aristine, stood beside his daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren. The look on his face indicated more than just contentment with his life. The princess Rosaline, H’Elene’s youngest daughter, had emigrated to Ptolem five years earlier along with her elder brother, Nik-Chay. She stood beside her two young Delphin adopted daughters, Kerra and Maeve, sweet, pixie-ish blondes. Rosaline’s extended midsection bespoke of a six-month pregnancy of twin sons; she had never looked happier or healthier. The solemn Sub-Commander Japheth, her husband of two years, stood next to her. The unique and highly valued friend and warrior was another officer lost to Osiron and gained by Ptolem.

Pyco-Chay had the same impish grin on his face that he had always worn when he was getting into creative trouble as a child and young teenager, although those efforts had certainly paled against his exploits on his birthworld. The results of the most significant exploit stood beside their father, each of the identical boys holding one of his hands. The twins, Dante and Darian, had many of their sire’s physical characteristics, save the blue eyes: the boys had the almond-shaped, light-brown, green-flecked eyes of their mother, the late Medea. With those eyes and their black hair, they looked very much like the grandsons of Chay Shayne. Darian was the gentler of the two. Dante was another Pyco-Chay, and gave his young father no end of headaches and grief even at the tender age of four.

The twins’ four-year-old sister, Aurora, stood in front of her father, her small, delicate hands lightly folded as she smiled coyly, her bright blue eyes alight with intelligence and mischief. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her layered bangs nearly hid her beautiful, long-lashed eyes. She looked nothing like her late mother, and distinctly different from her almond-eyed brothers, but she was every bit as much of a handful as the boys. Vin-Chay said that she often took the lead in their antics, and was far more aggressive in every aspect of her childhood, from pre-academy, to play, to family relationships. Still, she exhibited none of the true deviousness of her mother and grandmother, but he said he was still holding my breath.

Sar-Chay couldn’t suppress a grin; what goes around, comes around. He could only feel a small amount of commiseration for his grandnephew. However, the young man seemed to be taking his parental duties in stride, and had managed to balance his own personal and academic lives with his duties as a parent. Pyco-Chay had graduated the University of Thebes six months earlier with an advanced degree in astrobiology, and was being courted by a number of academic and commercial institutions.

Pyco-Chay’s younger brother, Constantine, stood next to him. The eighteen-year-old was shorter than Pyco-Chay, but just a bit taller than their eldest brother, Cobahr. Constantine had fleshed out and grown taller than expected. He was a bit more slender than Cobahr, but his height and broad shoulders made him seem bigger. His face was thin, like Pyke’s, but the features more settled and pronounced, and Sar-Chay had to admit that the plain little boy had turned out to be a fairly interesting-looking young man. His light brown hair, parted in the middle, fell loosely past his shoulders. His pale green eyes gave him an eerie appearance, and Sar-Chay still felt a little uneasy staring into them, even through the medium of a holograph. Constantine held the hand of one little boy standing close by his side, and held another in his arms. Shayne, the second son of Vin-Chay’s bloodline, was a slight silver-blond with unusual, piercing brown eyes. No traces of his biological mother, Sheban, were evident in his gentle face, and no one could quite explain his odd but intriguing coloring. Vin-Chay said he was as inquisitive as Pyco-Chay, but expressed the more restrained thoughtfulness of Constantine. Even at this early age, he seemed to have a significant musical talent, and was proficient at the violin. Sar-Chay let his thoughtful gaze rest for a long time on the little boy’s sweet face. He pushed away pangs of longing.

The second boy, Pyke’s third genetic male offspring, was Zander, a baby of six months. He was too young for anyone to garner his emotional, intellectual or physical measure. He had brilliant titian locks, a haphazard spray of delicious freckles across his nose and cheeks, and deep gray eyes. Sar-Chay hoped that this Pyke-child did not exhibit the same problems and consequences that Constantine did when he was an odd baby and child. Still, Constantine was one of the very few people in life who had the backbone and temerity to stand up to him, and at the very youthful age of thirteen. He was one of the rare people in the world who was not cowed by Sar-Chay’s presence and position, and treated him on an equal par with anyone else. That infuriated and impressed the imperious Crown Prince.

Nik-Chay stood slightly behind his elder brother, and grinned widely. At forty-four, he could have passed for a man far younger. Unlike his nearly look-alike elder sibling, there wasn’t the slightest trace of silver in his long, dark hair. A busy, well-respected high commander in his brother-in-law’s special security forces within the realm of the Triumvirate, he was privy to the circle of power, and had proven himself well up to the task. He had established a wide ring of professional associates and personal friends, and seemed to have fully integrated himself into Ptolemii life. Unfortunately, he hadn’t married or become betrothed, and that worried his uncle. Still, he seemed happy. Aristine’s other daughter, Persephone, the warrior asclepian-in-training, stood beside him grinning, her arm linked tightly with that of her constant but uncommitted companion. Sar-Chay wondered where the relationship would go.

Bahrtok, Colyn and Zandran rounded out the holograph. The dour commander and former head of physical training at the Osiron Military Academy had relocated back to his birthworld when it became obvious that Pyke and his family had made their permanent home there. He was installed in a similar capacity at the Ptolem Military Academy, and supplemented his spare time by the personal physical and spiritual training of the youngest Chay sons, Pyco-Chay and Constantine, and very soon Shayne. Sar-Chay had always liked and respected Zandran, despite the fact that the man was a Ptolemii. He had honor, passion, discipline and loyalty, and those traits were not to be taken lightly in this new world of theirs.

The two married people nearing ninety had their arms wrapped around one another’s waists; Bahrtok’s free hand rested gently on Constantine’s shoulder. The couple had retired from the demanding life of running an agriplex. The ‘plex on Osiron had been placed under Bru-Chay’s conservatorship, and was turning a substantial annual profit. The net chits went into a secondary trust fund for Cobahr and his four brothers, and Domii. Vin-Chay had arranged for hired workers to continue running the Ammurabbi ‘plex, where his foster parents spent half of each year; the other half was spent at their new apartment in Thebes, across from Vin-Chay’s and Pyke’s expanded apartment, and next to Cobahr’s and TutMi’s temporary home, which had previously served as Cobahr’s studio. As a wedding gift Vin-Chay and Pyke were building the newlyweds a large, expensive residence just outside of Thebes––complete with a huge art studio for Cobahr, who had recently been invested as the Chief Artistic Liaison for the newly created Ptolem-Osiron-Isiin Cultural Exchange Program.

He looks so much like his father, H’Elene said softly, flashing a gentle smile at Sar-Chay, whose impassive gaze rested on her thoughtfully as he sipped his annise. She ran her fingers gently across the lucitium, letting them rest on Vin-Chay’s face. They all look very happy.

I suppose so, the Crown Prince admitted reluctantly, but with a touch of pride in his deep voice. I had hoped that Vin-Chay would come to his senses and return to his true world, but I expect that’s never to be.

Perhaps Papa is in his true world, Uncle, Domenica said easily from the other end of the table. The lovely young woman sat next to her mother, Mandara, and her pretty foster sister, Cassiopeia, who nodded in agreement. Cassian’s youngest daughter was eager to finish her current suite of studies at the Palermon University, and journey to Ptolem to complete her medical education and be reunited with her father and sister, and her new stepmother and brothers. She would miss Domii, but Cassiopeia was determined to reunite with her birth and other adopted family now that she was a young woman of education and purpose. And she was eager to be close to him again …

Perhaps, Sar-Chay sighed. I would say it’s likely that this marriage and family will endure. I don’t know what my brother would say about all this.

He would be proud, H’Elene said.

You think so, Mother? asked Bru-Chay curiously. He knew how much his father had hated Pyke.

Your father could be stubborn, Brucero, but he was not a fool. He would have eventually come to accept his son’s decisions, and accept him back into the family. His actions regarding the invalid disenfranchisement are a clear indication of that.

Hmm, her son responded. His face brightened, and he stroked his short blond beard thoughtfully. You know, Vin-Chay has been asking for us to come to Ptolem. None of us have ever been there, except Uncle Sar-Chay, and since I’m opening up new commercial efforts with our mother planet, now might be an opportune time to consider such a voyage. He squeezed his wife’s hand under the table. She squeezed his back tightly, and they linked fingers.

Sar-Chay smiled widely, and took a sip of his well-aged annise.

That, nephew, is an excellent idea.

BOOK ONE

SIROCCO

CHAPTER ONE

Fifty-One Ninety-Two

The sheer rock face of Mephistopheles spanned nearly two thousand meters from the nearly-even, flat ridge that capped the dangerous cliff, down to the gently-sloping floor of the gorge. The immediate hectare at the foot of the drop was cluttered with large clusters of sharp, red rocks, which angled up like huge, deadly spikes; more than one careless or unfortunate climber had met his death impaled on the vicious projections. Only the most well-trained and savvy adventurer had any business attempting either a climb or a rappel down. Two or three men or women per year made the effort; even fewer were able to scale or descend the cliff for the full measure of its impressive height.

Prince Chay Constantine DeGael-DeGrec tightened the cinches on his recbelt as he rested his knee-high leather boots flush against a point on the sheer rock down about four hundred meters from his starting point at the top. The smooth, unforgiving surface was more intimidating than he had thought when he evaluated this latest goal in his carefully-designed personal regimen. He had promised himself that he would succeed in conquering this greatest challenge by his twenty-first birthanniv. That milestone was less than two weeks hence, so he had little time to meet his goal. He loathed failure, particularly his own.

He leaned back slightly and looked up towards the edge of the cliff. The imposing, sheer width of the rock loomed over him, but didn’t block out the bright sun due to the early hour. The warm sunlight felt good on his thin, plain face. His long, light-brown hair was clasped back tightly with one of his sire’s gold bands, but he could feel a slight trickle of sweat run down the back of his neck, and on both sides of his unusual, expressive face.

He blew out a deep breath and took a sip from his hydro-corr. He tensed his strong, lean arms and legs and began rappelling down the next section of cliff. He let the slack out exactly the same length each time he dropped and hit, dropped and hit, and paused again a hundred meters further down. He took another sip of water, and continued back down. During the next drop his right foot didn’t hit quite right, and he slipped and hit the rock face awkwardly, banging his right knee. He groaned and paused, and studied the rock carefully to see if any difference in texture might have caused his gaff. Nothing about the rock was different; he had simply made an awkward, inappropriate move that could have caused him more damage had he not been as agile as he usually was. He cursed himself silently, angry at his stupid mistake. He tightened his grip on the tether and kept going, a little more slowly.

Drop and hit, drop and hit. He gave a quick glance at the phys-corr on his wrist; the instrument told him he had another two hundred meters to go. Not too bad. He’d be done before the mid-day sun was directly overhead, and be back in Thebes in time to bathe and change before his eldest brother’s thirtieth birthanniv celebration.

He looked down carefully, and raised his eyebrows over his heavy-lidded, pale green eyes as he saw the small form of his brother far below. Pyco-Chay was waiting for him at the bottom of the cliff. He tightened the tether again and dropped his two-meters-six, lean but muscular frame down another twenty meters.

Pyco-Chay stared up at the tiny figure, which grew larger moment by moment as his brother descended the sheer rock. He frowned; he would have liked to attempt the effort with Constantine, but his better judgment had unfortunately kicked in, and he decided to wait down below. The pleasures of being a responsible adult and father of three at only twenty-three…

Constantine hit a flat ledge two meters from the ground where his brother waited. He expelled an involuntary whoosh of breath as his feet hit solidly, and he realized that he had accomplished his goal. He unfastened his recbelt and cinch, and freed himself from the confining apparatus. He let the tether dangle as he turned around to walk over to his brother. He saw a very slight flicker of sun glinting off some shiny object in the far distance, near their family’s Sirrian residence. He smiled to himself, knowing full well that the innocuous sight was probably indicative of his parents’ presence at that far distance. They were undoubtedly watching their son’s dangerous progress with tense minds and hearts. They were far too overprotective of their various offspring, but in truth, he never minded.

As he reached his brother he inclined his head ever so slightly, and spoke in amusement. Our parents are out there watching, he said casually as he checked his pulse rate and blood pressure one last time. Satisfied with the readings, he stored them in the backpack Pyco-Chay handed to him.

Aye, Pyco-Chay sighed lightly. I saw a few glints myself while I was waiting for you. They’re predictable, aren’t they? Endearing, but predictable. He grinned. Should we wave to them?

Why not? The two Chay brothers turned towards the glints and waved wildly at the far horizon before Pyco-Chay helped his brother finish storing his accouterments, and the two young men boarded the small reccraft for the quick ascent to retrieve the remaining items.

They saw us, Vin-Chay sighed as he lowered his long-distance visiator and gave his spouse an appropriately guilty look.

Of course they saw us, Pyke replied in exasperation as he lowered his own device and raised an eyebrow at his mate. You aren’t exactly the paragon of discretion, my princeling. How could they possibly miss us?

I was simply concerned for his safety. That cliff is one of the most dangerous in this province or any other. You saw how he slipped and banged his leg into the rock. He could have lost his grip on the tether and wound up banging some more dangerous portion of his body against the cliff.

Our son is a grown man. And you know he is careful, methodical, and not given to unconsidered actions in any part of his life. We can’t protect him from everything. We have to allow him the freedom to choose his own pursuits, however they may give us heart flutters or sleepless nights.

I know. You’re right, as usual, his mate responded in a semi-annoyed tone as he sighed heavily and started walking back to their docked commandcraft. Two warriors waited patiently for the Triumvirii Lord Pyke and his Osiran spouse, Ambassador Prince Vin-Chay. They saluted their two powerful, high-ranking charges and followed them into the craft. The navigator set the autonav to maximum velocity, and the craft quickly ascended and navigated back towards the capital city of Thebes, following the same set of coordinates as the smaller reccraft that preceded them in that direction by only a few minutes.

CHAPTER TWO

The temperatures in and around Thebes had soared weeks earlier to unusually high levels, making even those who relished the excessive, dry heat desirous of a break in the unfavorable climate. Scientists from the main Geoplex in the capital city, and their brethren from neighboring provinces, had been studying the climatic trends for decades now, and saw a disquieting inclination towards hotter, dryer summers, and equally warmer winters with far less moisture and rain. Agriplexes suffered for many crops, although some of the problems had been circumvented generations earlier when most government cooperatives had their hectares domed, and their cloistered temperatures regulated with precise technology.

Many people had been addressing their personal comforts for years by burrowing underground for their residences, where natural subterranean cooling provided a more equable physical lifestyle. There was also considerable expansion above ground, in and around Thebes and the dry, desolate desert areas that bordered the city on all sides, but many people sought refuge in their belowground homes and commercial enterprises. The excessive temperatures––now well up into the high one-forties––saw the streets of Thebes with few intrepid wanderers to and from home and work during the mid-day period. Most people were inclined towards walking and enjoying the outdoors before the sun rose, or at dusk and after sunset.

Japheth, like most of his family members, enjoyed the bright, hot outdoors, no matter how high the temperatures soared. Being outdoors gave him a sense of personal freedom and choice. The thirty-eight-year-old warrior commander stopped for a moment at the Lower Cairon Bazaar, where he browsed the few vendors who were open during the hot mid-day. They all knew him, for he purchased items there frequently, and he was always pleasant and courteous to all of the vendors despite his high military ranking and his membership in two very powerful political enclaves.

The vendors had often spoken amongst themselves about the quiet, efficient, decent Osiran ex-slave who had become a high-ranking member of InterSec. He was well liked, as was his lovely blonde wife, Princess Chay Rosaline. He was known to have a sharp, incisive, focused mind that could root out the minutest details, and he was unrelenting in his pursuit of his duties and alliances.

Japheth stored his purchases in his backpack as he continued his trek to his brother-in-law’s apartment. Vin-Chay had taken a furlough for a few days from his ambassadorial duties to prepare for his eldest son’s thirtieth birthanniv celebration, and enjoy some uninterrupted time with his younger children. Rosaline was away in Corso on a mission for the Theban Academy of Psychological Theory and Development. She had left Thebes two days earlier after depositing her children into her elder brother’s care, since Japheth was currently occupied with a time-consuming homicide investigation. Their children were rambunctious and demanding, and their parents decided that their uncle was much more prepared to care for them during his furlough rather than their harried father. Still, Japheth missed them whenever they weren’t in their home, so he had been ensconced on Vin-Chay hearthchamber divan for the last two nights as he shared parental duties with his favorite brother-in-law.

He reached the Chays’ Theban compound a half hour after he left the bazaar. The circular courtyard around which a cluster of apartments rested was empty and quiet; few non-family members had any cause to approach or pass by the enclave. The main building, a three-tier, sand-colored, stucco structure with wrought-iron decorations and balconies, sat at one end of the square. Vin-Chay, his spouse and their youngest sons resided in the spacious apartment on one side of the duplex; their two middle sons, two grandsons and granddaughter resided in the attached home. The smaller, two-tier, single structure to the left of the primary home was the residence of Vin-Chay’s younger brother, High Commander Nik-Chay, while the similar structure to the right was occupied by Vin-Chay’s foster parents, Bahrtok and Colyn, when they were not residing in their Ammurabbi agriplex.

The fourth two-tier structure directly across from Vin-Chay’s building was the ‘guest’ residence, and was used by his eldest son and daughter-in-law when they were not at their own primary residence at the Theban border. And, of course, the home was open to any other friends and family members who might need a roof for a day or two or week or two, here and there. Japheth and his family had made use of the home on many occasions, despite the fact that they lived less than a kilometer away.

Japheth smiled slightly as the two ever-present warriors who were on guard duty at the compound saluted him respectfully and stood at attention. He saluted them in return, then continued on a few meters further to the main door, where he placed his palm on the security indent. The system recognized his living genetic structure and signaled him to continue with further procedures. He spoke the newest daily password and standard set of security codes, then stared into the optic recognition unit that finished the verification. The front door hissed openly softly, and Japheth stepped through as the door closed and locked behind him. All of the Chays had stringent security measures.

He deposited his backpack on a large table in the entryway corridor at the same time that two identical young voices screamed, Papa! and two little boys ran down the corridor at breakneck speed and launched themselves into their father’s arms. Japheth crushed the boys tightly to his body, closing his eyes and taking in their smell and feel as he did every day of their lives. The two-and-a-half-year-old twins giggled and kissed him and squirmed out of his tight grasp as their uncle smiled down at the common scene taking place in his entryway. Japheth smiled at him and rose, holding a hand of each twin as they twisted and fidgeted and pulled at him.

It seems they’ve missed you even more than usual, Vin-Chay said in amusement as he watched the affectionate domestic scene. He didn’t add that he was more than just a little relieved that the twins’ father had arrived and could relieve him of at least one very intense set of parental duties. He could hear his nieces’ and youngest son’s laughter and yelling from the hearthchamber. The cacophony of child-sounds was nearly drowning out the sweet, soulful sounds from the second-tier, where Shayne was practicing his latest violin concerto, and had been for two hours.

I missed them, too.

I never would have guessed, his brother-in-law replied affectionately as he fluffed Victorian’s shiny, dark brown hair. The little boy’s big gray eyes crinkled and he giggled, then he pulled away from his father and ran back down the corridor as his seven-minutes-younger brother Venetian followed suit.

Well, so much for filial affection, Vin-Chay said as he watched his nephews scamper off. Vin-Chay cocked his head and studied his brother-in-law’s tense face. Anything wrong? You seem tense, he asked Japheth, who shook his head.

I’m fine, Japheth replied. I just miss Rosaline, and worry about her schedule. She’s been working too hard, and that isn’t healthy in her condition. This pregnancy isn’t proceeding as smoothly as the last one.

I know, Vin-Chay said softly. He was worried about his sister, too. She had looked so pale when he had last seen her, two days earlier. Still, the asclepians had said that she was healthy, and her six-week-old female fetus was healthy, so there really wasn’t any true reason to worry.

Vin-Chay could understand his brother-in-law’s concern too well. It wasn’t simply that Japheth loved his wife, Vin-Chay’s youngest sister, but that the young warrior had never thought that he would have the love and family that surrounded him, and even the minutest threat to any of his family members was magnified. There were times when Vin-Chay saw more than just an obsessive concern by the young man for his wife, children and family, and for his professional duties. He grinned at the young commander, whose solemn face relaxed just a bit in the comfort of his brother-in-law’s home.

Pyke and I went up to Sirria to watch Con-Chay’s efforts, Vin-Chay confessed.

Japheth grinned widely at the subject of his nephew and best friend. And he succeeded, of course.

Of course. Once my son sets his mind to something, nothing gets in his way. You of all people should know that.

Indeed. I know his determination well. Did Pyco-Chay accompany him?

Yes, but surprisingly, Constantine’s impetuous brother actually curbed his dangerous impulses and simply waited down at the bottom of the cliff. I’m sure––

Vin-Chay’s next words were interrupted by a loud crash from the hearthchamber. A second later, the child noises stopped and the two men met each other’s eyes in resignation.

I’ll go find out what has to be replaced this time, Vin-Chay sighed as he turned and strode down the corridor. Japheth would have followed, but he was intrigued by the haunting sounds coming from the second tier. He draped his cloak over a table, and removed his heavy techbelt and placed it over the cloak. He mounted the stairs to the second tier and walked to Shayne’s noxchamber. The door was slightly ajar, and he peeked inside.

The slight boy, just shy of his sixth birthanniv, was standing in front of the noxchamber window. He held his violin and bow and studied the musical notes that flashed across his muse-corr with a deep intensity. Japheth watched as the boy squinted at the holographic notes, then stiffened and cocked his head as though he were listening to someone. He suddenly nodded, his face brightening perceptibly, and then he gently tapped out a change in chords and speed. The boy placed the cup of the violin under his chin and gently placed his bow along the strings. His long, silver-blond hair fell softly over his shoulders as he focused his dark brown eyes on the music, and began running the bow across the strings.

The tonal cadence was thrilling and spirited, ranging from slow, eerie melodies to exciting, rapid staccato strains that seemed to saturate Japheth’s entire body as he listened, enraptured. The young musical virtuoso was amazingly talented. Vin-Chay, the son not only of the powerful patriarch of the Chay Kindred but also of a violin virtuoso mother, had ensured that the boy received instruction from the finest musical educators. Shayne’s instructors had been amazed at his talent and ability to learn and absorb new theory and practices. By the age of four he was performing full concertos; a year later, he was standing alone on a stage in the Artplex, playing one of his own compositions to an appreciative audience that included all of his family members and friends. Shayne’s parents encouraged and supported his talents and desires, and the Chay home was always filled with beautiful, soulful music.

The only dark cloud hovering about the gentle, musically-inclined fourth Chay son was his fragile health, which asclepians at the Mediplex attributed to embryonic genetic engineering apparently instigated by the child’s long-dead dam, Sheban. Heart replacement might be necessary in a few years, when the boy reached puberty. Both of his kidneys had already been replaced, and there were indications that his eyesight might be failing. Shayne’s parents spent a good deal of time in medical consultations.

Japheth descended to the first tier and entered the hearthchamber with a little trepidation, wondering what damage one or more of his children might have caused with that loud crash. He stopped at the archway to the chamber, and smiled at the sight of his brother-in-law sitting down on the floor, back against the divan, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Japheth’s four children, and Vin-Chay’s youngest son, Zander, and his grandsons, Dante and Darian, were huddled around him while he intoned a favorite mythological tale. His granddaughter, Aurora, was temporarily confined to her noxchamber for her antics after academy a few days before.

He stood quietly watching the children’s rapt faces as they listened to Vin-Chay expressively relate his story. Japheth’s adopted daughters, Maeve and Kerra, were sprawled on the floor on their stomachs, while their brothers were cuddled closely under their uncle’s arms. Zander was sitting quietly cross-legged in front of his father, his straight, light-brown hair falling over wide-set gray eyes set above a sprinkling of light nose freckles. The twin black-haired, brown-eyed grandsons were sitting back on their legs, biting their lower lips in unison and fidgeting as they listened in rapt attention, silently grateful that their annoying, aggressive sister was nowhere in sight.

Japheth thought again, for the hundredth time that day, how lucky he was to have this family, and this future. He would never let anyone hurt his family. Never. He was their permanent, timeless guard, and would remain so as long as he lived. Forever. He watched the man and children alertly.

CHAPTER THREE

The main dining chamber at the Chays’ Theban apartment was far too small to hold all of the celebrants comfortably, so Vin-Chay decided to hold his son’s birthanniv festivities at the Sirrian residence instead. The hearthchamber would still be cramped, but there was more room to mill about in the back enclosure and the expanded nutrichamber. Most of the food and beverages had been prepared in advance by Vin-Chay and Pyke, with a good deal of assistance from Cobahr’s grandmother, Colyn. She, along with her husband Bahrtok, had arrived in Thebes several days earlier from their agriplex. Colyn doted on all of her family members, but especially on her eldest grandson, the only issue of her late daughter, Coba.

Colyn’s husband, Bahrtok, had appropriated the task of decorating the back enclosure with artificial lights and candles, and had set a long, carved table with a series of appetizing foodstuffs for snacking before the main meal. Several smaller tables held decanters of well-aged spirits and juices, and the finest golden goblets, plates and utensils. Bahrtok nodded in approval as he surveyed his efforts, and enjoyed the last brilliant red and gold rays of the setting sun over the distant Sirrian Mountains. He joined his wife. He came up from behind her and slipped his strong arms around her waist, and nuzzled her long, silver hair. She closed her eyes and enjoyed every physical and emotional sensation associated with the man to whom she had been married for nearly seventy years. She purred and twisted her head around to kiss his cheek. He gave her a rib-bruising hug before she laughed and pushed him away playfully. He would never change. Thank God.

None of that, now, she admonished.

Ah, well, he said sadly, I expect I’m not as appealing as I might have been seventy years ago.

Every bit as appealing, my love, she said as she smoothed an embroidered napkin. I simply need to make sure everything is ready for our family and guests. She gave him a familiar, pointed look. I promise I’ll show you just how appealing you still are after tonight’s festivities are over.

I’ll hold you to that promise, he replied easily as he popped an enticing Gekk’Ta’Gua into his watering mouth. Colyn slapped his hand and frowned at him, and he understood that she would not tolerate any further culinary forays into her well-designed dining table edibles. He grinned and turned away quickly, only to see his amused foster son gazing at him affectionately from the nutrichamber archway. He rolled his eyes and joined Vin-Chay in the nutrichamber, where he had been putting the finishing touches on his unique carrolan cake. Shayne and Zander were sitting quietly at the nutrisland as they polished off the remnants of batter. Bahrtok fluffed Zander’s silky red hair, and was rewarded with a giggle and grin from the three-year-old who reminded him so much of Cobahr at that age. The boys looked almost nothing alike despite their mutual sire, but they certainly did have the same endearing, happy smile and outgoing personality––and in Zander’s case, an adorable spray of light freckles across his nose and chubby cheeks.

Did you see Pyke while you were out back? Vin-Chay asked Bahrtok as he artfully extracted the batter utensil from Zander’s tight, determined grip. His mate had gone for a long, solitary walk an hour earlier, to ruminate on his eldest son’s birthanniv, and the many years that had elapsed since the eldest Chay son’s birth. Pyke had never truly let go of his guilt and regrets at deliberately missing out on his son’s first three years.

No, Bahrtok replied, shaking his head. I expect he’s fine though, and just needs some solitude. He grinned widely. I dare say he doesn’t get all that much normally at home.

Hardly, Vin-Chay grinned back. Not with the hoards of children populating our compound on a regular basis. He turned serious. But I doubt that he would welcome that solitude more than rarely, either. Despite his grumblings and muttered remarks, he wouldn’t trade our rather chaotic family for any other life.

Indeed. None of us would. He narrowed his eyes and listened theatrically. Doesn’t it make you a little nervous when you can’t hear Rorii and the twins making their usual noises?

Not really, Vin-Chay answered, nodding at a small monitor to the left of the nutrisland. Bahrtok looked over and saw the tiny image of the twins and their sister napping quietly and non-destructively on their grandparents’ bed on the second tier. Bahrtok smiled and nodded appreciatively at his foster son’s careful ingenuity. He was about to make a comment on Aurora’s recent behavior when the wide, double sliding doors at the far end of the nutrichamber slid open and Pyke entered the chamber. Zander swiveled around at the noise and slid off his seat to run with wide-open arms to his sire. Pyke scooped the little boy up and hugged him tightly as he approached the nutrisland. He placed the three-year-old back on his seat and sat down on the one between his two youngest sons. He leaned over and kissed Shayne’s cheek. The wan smile with which he was rewarded tugged at his heart.

I built a castle today, Father, Zander piped up as he reached a small arm towards the dessert plate again. Pyke deftly deflected his son’s attempt at further ruination of his appetite as he moved the plate to the far right.

You did? I’ll bet it was beautiful.

Zander nodded vigorously. It was!

Everything ready in the hearthchamber? Pyke asked Vin-Chay.

Aye. Colyn is finishing up and the boys should be here very shortly. Cobahr called to say that he and TutMi would be a little late because of an assignment she’s finishing up at the Miliplex. The rest of the family should be on time. He rubbed his forehead; another odd headache had come on suddenly, as they had for years now. The throb was minor at best and never more than a very short irritant. The only thing that disconcerted him other than the fact that the asclepians could find no physical reason for them was that his thoughts at those times seem jumbled with cohesion abandoned in favor of word fragments. He dismissed the minor dizziness and ‘voices’ inside his head as aftereffects of artery constriction. He never mentioned the matter to Pyke, who was often unreasonable concerned with his spouse’s health.

Good, Pyke nodded absently. He was focused on Shayne’s pale, listless demeanor. He met Vin-Chay’s eyes and saw the same concern. Bahrtok’s worry was also evident on his craggy face.

Vin-Chay forced himself to smile and nodded towards his quiet son. Shayne’s almost finished his latest composition. He was playing it this afternoon when Japheth came home. It’s beautiful.

The little boy looked up at his Ptolemii father with big brown eyes. It’s a special song for Cobahr, the child said softly. "I wrote it for his birthanniv. I call it Cobahr’s Song."

That’s an extraordinary gift, Shayne, Bahrtok said quietly. It will mean the world to your brother.

Santii thinks so, too, Shayne said seriously, his face a study in concentration as he inspected a crumb on his plate.

Well, I’m sure he will, Bahrtok agreed, realizing that the preoccupied child had mispronounced his elder brother’s name, as he had a few times in the past. Bahrtok had given the nickname ‘Stantii’ to Constantine when he was a very young child, and only he and Colyn, and on occasion Pyke, referred to the middle Chay son by that nomenclature.

The child nodded wordlessly and suddenly slid off of his seat and ran out of the nutrichamber, followed immediately by his tag-along younger brother.

Pyke sighed and blew out a long breath. Thirty. I simply can’t believe it. He gave a pointed look to his spouse. Any more than I can the fact that we’ve been together for nearly twenty-eight years.

Unbelievable, his mate replied lightly as he kissed Pyke’s cheek and smoothed back his loose, silvery hair. And they said it would never last.

Who said it wouldn’t last? Pyke asked archly.

Everyone.

Bahrtok laughed and clapped Pyke on the back, then followed his grandsons out of the chamber, leaving the two long-marrieds alone. Vin-Chay grinned at his mate as he finished slicing the hot carrolan cake while keeping one eye on the monitor to their noxchamber. He noted that Aurora had awakened and was jabbing her sleepy, unfortunate brothers in the ribs to awaken them as well.

Vin-Chay sighed and motioned to the screen. Perhaps you’d better gather our grandchildren before something terrible happens upstairs, he said in resignation. He had never thought that any family child could be more problematic and chaotic than his second son, Pyco-Chay, but that young man’s children were well on their way to outdoing their father in mischief and headaches. He simply shuddered at the thought of their teenage years, particularly those of the beautiful, willful, demanding Aurora.

Pyke laughed and nodded, and left the nutrichamber. As his grandchildren bounced down the spiral staircase Pyco-Chay and Constantine entered the house arguing.

Pyco-Chay yelled to his children, who scampered over and threw themselves at their young father as they all started talking at once. Zander ran over to Constantine and demanded to be picked up. His elder brother complied and carried him over to the divan, where he casually but carefully tossed his giggling sibling onto the divan, then threw his cloak over the child just as casually. Pyke admired the way Constantine had adapted to being a ‘big brother,’ and how well he interacted with the two youngest Chays. Pyke’s third son had come an incredibly long way in the past eight years, and the father absolutely adored the son from whom he had once shied inexplicably away.

Constantine gave his sire a knowing look as he removed his techbelt from his maroon uniform, indicative of his investiture in the scientific division of the Miliplex. Enjoy watching my descent down Mephistopheles, Father? he asked.

Pyke had the decency to look sheepish, and nodded. Aye. You did very well, as I knew you would. But it was Papa who insisted that we observe your efforts. You know how paranoid he can be.

"He can be?" Pyco-Chay interjected as he fended off his daughter’s hands and tried to prevent Dante from stealing a slice of bread from the dining table. He managed to pry the bread away from his son’s fast grip, then shrugged and started chewing the delectable item himself.

Well, Pyke reluctantly conceded, perhaps I was a little concerned as well. We’re parents. This is what we do, PyCoTok, as you yourself are finding out the hard way.

Chays only find things out the hard way, said a deep, familiar voice from the entryway. Nik-Chay smiled and cocked his head as his stunning blue eyes crinkled in amusement. I would think, Pyke, that you of all people would understand that after all these years.

I do, his brother-in-law replied in resignation. It would be nice if one generation broke the pattern, however. Perhaps in the future.

Perhaps, Nik-Chay answered skeptically as he tossed his cloak over the divan. But I doubt it. Is my brother in the nutrichamber?

Pyke nodded and watched his spouse’s younger brother leave the hearthchamber with his two elder nephews. Nik-Chay was still unmarried and with no children. Both Pyke and Vin-Chay had hoped that Nik-Chay would settle down with Aristine’s youngest daughter, Persephone, but that seemed destined not to be. The on-again, off-again relationship between the man and woman now seemed to be finally ‘off,’ and the young Miliplex asclepian was on the verge of being betrothed to another warrior.

Pyke had little time to ruminate on the matter since his spouse’s adopted brother, Cassian, his wife Phaedra, their two young sons, her father Aristine, and Cassian’s youngest daughter, Cassiopeia, arrived. Cassian’s sons immediately ran over to the divan to play with Shayne and Zander as Pyke stored his newest guests’ cloaks. Aristine was familiar with the Chays’ Sirrian residence, and helped himself to a large goblet of annise as his daughter, son-in-law and stepgranddaughter joined Bahrtok and Colyn in the back enclosure. He and Pyke were left as the only two adults in the hearthchamber to oversee the seven young children who were playing near the divan and fireplace.

Aristine gave his fellow Triumvirii a knowing look. Think we have enough children here, Pyke?

Quite. But we’ll have four more when Japheth arrives. Thank God we have a number of much younger family members to assist in maintaining order. At our ages, the task would be far too daunting. At sixty-four, Pyke was twelve years younger than his friend. He rarely felt his age, and had a life expectancy of at least another sixty years, but the children of the family would try even the most healthy and stalwart man or woman. Japheth and his brood arrived, leaving only Cobahr and TutMi missing from the festivities. Pyke sighed as he stared at the eleven young children who filled up his hearthchamber quite well. He remembered a time so very long ago when Cobahr was the only child in the home, and he had thought that that situation was a ‘crowded’ one.

Bahrtok and Colyn, and Cassian, Phaedra and Cassiopeia entered the hearthchamber from the back enclosure just as Nik-Chay entered from the nutrichamber, carrying a large plate of blue and green dessert pastries.

We’ll domesticate you yet, Pyke said.

I don’t think so, Nik-Chay replied. I’m happy with the way things are. I have no plans to change them.

Obviously, Aristine grumbled, but with a detectable tinge of affection. He had always hoped that this fine young man would become his second son-in-law, but Nik-Chay’s fragile and often confusing relationship with Persa hadn’t provided that anticipated situation. Aristine was not happy with the current state of affairs, and although the young warrior Persa was seeing now was above reproach, he was no Chay. Before he could make another remark, Pyke injected himself into what could become a tense situation.

I think we should settle the children around their own dining table and let them start eating before they become too unruly, Pyke said smoothly. Nik-Chay, could you and Cassian settle the children in over there?

Aye, Nik-Chay answered tensely. He didn’t want to get into a confrontation with Aristine either, and he was disquieted with his own conflicting emotions about the Triumvirii’s daughter. He was grateful to Pyke for redirecting the conversation and interaction.

A half hour later Cobahr and TutMi arrived to an enthusiastic welcome. TutMi was still dressed in her crisp, form-fitting, tan sub-captain’s uniform, and looked every centimeter an impressive warrior in InterSec. She had been promoted early to sub-captain, barely six months ago, after aggressively coordinating efforts to successfully smash a key smuggling ring in Lower Cairon. Her current assignment of driving a special team to research and eliminate a suspected extortion group of Osiran expatriates was keeping her occupied for long periods of time.

Vin-Chay and Pyke embraced their son and it took only a few moments more before the rest of the guests had greeted the guest-of-honor, and all the adults were seated at their own dining table. They began digging into the well-prepared, extensive suite of foodstuffs covering the table. A cacophony of conversations and laughter punctuated the lengthy meal as the guests enjoyed themselves and one another.

Constantine broke off a hot bread crust and dipped it into the spicy sauce bowl in front of him. His heavy silver Chay signet ring glittered under the candlelight, its flame symbol prominently raised above the band. His Osiran father had chosen the symbol of passion and fire especially for him on his sixteenth birthanniv. He cherished the thought and the honor, and felt at that time that he was accepted as a true Chay.

Japheth dipped his own crust in the same bowl and chewed thoughtfully as he addressed his best friend. Have you reconsidered your decision regarding the Canaan Miliplex? he asked casually, uncertain if he really wanted to hear the answer.

No, not really, Constantine answered. An assignment there could be rewarding and challenging, especially in the first few years of its establishment, but right now I’d rather remain here and complete the project that Pyco-Chay and I have been working on. Constantine had been invested the previous year as a lieutenant in the military. He was assigned to the scientific section to participate in several projects dealing with Canaan environmental issues, and the possibility of resuming deep-space exploration by manipulating the genetic structures of potential explorers to allow them to endure and thrive in long-term, cloistered starship environments. Pyco-Chay was also assigned to the same projects as an independent civilian consultant.

He chewed slowly and observed his other family members’ interaction. Pyco-Chay was up and down from the table checking on his rambunctious children and the others. When his kinetic brother did manage to remain seated, he was generally engrossed in his conversations with their uncle Nik-Chay, who split his attention between his nephew and brother. Pyco-Chay also engaged in some very animated repartee with his foster sister, Cassiopeia. Constantine watched Cassian and Phaedra converse with their heads close together. Constantine saw that when his parents’ eyes met, there was a palpable, electric feeling and passion that still threaded through their unique relationship.

He wanted that kind of relationship. He knew he was capable of such passion, and needed only to find the right mate. He had an inkling of who that mate might be, but if his long-dormant desires proved to be accurate, and she returned the feelings, then the outcome could result in quite an upheaval for his family. He doubted that many would approve of the relationship, perhaps not even his tolerant parents. Time and a lengthy visit to Osiron would tell.

Cobahr was engaged in a heated discussion with his wife. The young man and woman were opposites in many ways, from their chosen professions to their general approach to life. TutMi was aggressive; Cobahr was restrained and gentle. TutMi was passionately articulate and would engage anyone in a fiery discussion on any subject, always entering the fray with the basic assumption that she was right and they were wrong. Cobahr was a quiet, respectful listener who chose his words carefully, and always entered a conversation or social situation with an open mind. TutMi was a warrior to her very soul; Cobahr was a sensitive artist to his. He was his sire’s son in many ways, as she was her mother’s daughter.

Phaedra sighed and nodded her head respectfully as she listened to her father hinting with no particular subtlety about wanting another grandchild. She cast a quick glance at Nik-Chay and wondered for the hundredth time why he and Persa couldn’t seem to come to