Guardian

“So what are you, then?” Riane challenged Nick’s so-called mother. “And why are you taking advantage of this man’s grief?”

“I’m not taking advantage of anything,” the figure snapped with a trace of anger. “I am Charlotte Holt’s spirit. When I died, my life force was captured by the T’Lir.” She spread her arms. “Now here I am.”

“Charlotte” sighed. “Your T’Lir is one of the repositories of the spirits of dead Sela. It’s their power that reinforces your own.”

“You’re buying this?” Riane rocked back on her heels to stare at him, incredulous. “Nick, this doesn’t make any damn sense at all. Your gem is powered by the spirits of dead aliens? As my mother would say, ‘Give me a break.’ ”

“We just woke up on an alien planet, but you didn’t even blink. Why is that any less believable than this?” He folded his arms and glowered. “Shut up and let her talk.”

Riane opened her mouth to snap back at him, but Charlotte forestalled her. “Perhaps it would help if I started at the beginning.” The spirit sank down on the sandy floor of the cave, folding her transparent legs. Looking up at him, she patted the ground to either side. “Have a seat, children. Get comfortable. This is going to take a while.”

Nick settled tailor-fashion next to his so-called mother. After a pause, Riane warily followed suit, ready to spring up at the first sign of a trap. “Comp, alert me at any sign of danger.”

Trouble was, she wasn’t sure how much good it would do. Sensors apparently weren’t much use when it came to ghosts.

“This all started about ten billion years ago,” Charlotte began, then smiled slightly, “on a planet far, far away.”

“Patience, child.” She gestured, and images filled the air before them, three-dimensional and vivid, of a violet world with wide swaths of land in blue and yellow. “It was a lush planet, with a wide variety of life-forms all fighting one another in ruthless competition for food, mates, and territory.”

Riane snorted. “Just like on every other life-bearing planet we’ve ever discovered.”

“True, but for some reason, this competition resulted in a biological arms race that was even more intense than usual. Not only did species grow steadily bigger and faster—developing claws, fangs, and horns—but three different species evolved intelligence. Separately and simultaneously.”

“Because when evolving species develop intelligence at the same time, they become even more warlike and competitive against one another than a species that engages in tribal warfare,” Riane told him. “So what you end up with are species that are really, really violent. Even more so than humans.”

“Exactly.” As they watched, a lizardlike race and two vaguely mammalian ones began to use tools, then create weapons. They fought bloodily, each species trying to wipe the others out, weaponry growing ever more complex as their intelligence grew. “Eventually the species we call the Sela succeeded in killing its rivals, then began a period of intraspecies warfare.”

Riane blinked. “Those are Sela?” Instead of the cuddly six-legged aliens, they were brawny creatures that reminded her of six-limbed tigers. Their pelts were dark, striped, and they ran swiftly on two sets of powerful legs. Their arms were thinner, with long, agile fingers tipped with vicious claws. Their heads were vaguely feline, with pointed ears, large, intelligent eyes, and lots of sharp teeth.

Nick stared at the image with the same appalled fascination she felt. “I thought you said the Sela are pacifists.”

“They are—now. Then, not so much,” Charlotte explained. “With their rivals dead, the Sela had the leisure to continue developing ever more advanced technology and weapons. Soon they moved out into space.”

“True. But unlike humanity, the Sela home world was located close to the galactic core—Earth is out on one of the galaxy’s arms—which meant their interstellar neighbors were much closer. And some of those neighbors had their own intelligent races.”

“Exactly. They immediately embarked on wars of genocide against their neighbors, wiping them out and seizing their advanced technology. Each acquisition allowed the Sela to move farther and farther out into space in an expanding ring of conquest and bloodshed.”

Images flashed through the air, portraying alien warships engaged in ferocious interstellar battles. Massive, exotic weapons stalked across burning worlds among ground-shaking explosions. In other images, the Sela fought hand to hand against creatures even stranger than they were. Killing. Dying.

“Didn’t they ever get tired?” Nick asked. “I mean, humans eventually get sick of warfare and quit fighting.”

His mother shook her ghostly head. “The Sela evolved to take joy in war, and their culture glorified warfare. They believed you only bought your way into the afterlife by death in battle.”

“So how did they go from furry psychopaths to cuddly pacifists?” Riane asked.

“They finally encountered the one race that wouldn’t fight back—because it didn’t have to. The Di’jiri were ancient and unimaginably powerful, with the ability to alter the fabric of reality in ways not even today’s Sela can. They had retreated from space, and were living a pastoral life when the Sela invaded their world.”

Charlotte laughed. “Oh, very. Because the Di’jiri gave them psychic abilities on the spot.”

“Think about it, son.” Charlotte smiled. It wasn’t a very nice smile. “A race of violent killers who glorify murder suddenly given the ability to feel the pain of their victims—without the knowledge of how to block it out.”

Charlotte shook her head. “It is not a thing lightly done. It drove many irrevocably mad. Others fled in panic, but wherever they went, they spread their abilities to their fellow Sela.” Now the images showed Sela screaming, killing themselves, being slain by their own kind. “The power spread like a pandemic. The Selan Empire collapsed, and their enemies took violent revenge. Billions died.”

Charlotte nodded. “Now you see why the Sela did not do the same to the Xerans.”

“How did they survive?” Nick watched the chaotic images with a queasy fascination.

“A few retreated into hiding while they attempted to learn to control their new abilities. They evolved a philosophy of pacifism and began to embrace their powers.”

“This came close.” There was no amusement on the ghost’s face. “The survivors began to realize the depths of their own murderous crimes. That was the most devastating punishment of all. So many slew themselves that they were on the verge of extinction.”

“The invention of the T’Lirs. Many of the Sela’s greatest warriors wished to atone for what they had done—but how does one atone for mass murder? It would take more than a lifetime. So it was they created the T’Lirs—a way to pass on the experience of the warrior generation to those that followed.”

“The spirits of those who die are absorbed by the T’Lirs, then are passed on to those in the womb.”

Riane recoiled. “What happens to the child’s original spirit? Is it destroyed?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Souls don’t die. The old spirit adds to the new. The children don’t remember their ancestors’ experiences at first—that does not happen until each has gained the maturity to deal with those memories. And much of the true grief is never remembered at all.”

He leaned forward as a new thought occurred to him. “Am I the repository of one of those spirits?”

Nick bounded to his feet. “Mother! Dammit, don’t leave! I need to know . . .” He turned to stare into the darkness before his shoulders finally slumped in defeat.

He gave her a look boiling with frustration. “But there was so much I wanted to ask her. Who was my father? Why didn’t she tell me this stuff when she was alive? And where the hell are we?”

“And most of all, how do we get back?” Riane walked to the front of the cave and stared outside. “Maybe she’ll—”

“Warning!” her comp shrilled. “Unidentified life-form approaching . . .”

Something dark exploded from the tunnel in a rush of claws and teeth. It slammed into Nick like a starshuttle, knocking him flat. He yelped.

Nick! Riane started to leap toward them—and found her body wouldn’t obey. She tried to shout, but she couldn’t make a sound. She was completely paralyzed, frozen in place.

The wolf worked his way down the corridor, his nose to the floor as he sought the enemy who had stolen his child.

A cheerful female voice spoke in a waterfall of incomprehensible words. He caught his name, but he was too busy hunting to stop.

She said something else, half-laughing, but he simply kept going. He had to find the child thief.

Jessica Arvid watched Frieka pad down the corridor, nose to the floor, questing back and forth as he sought some scent. “What’s his problem?” It was out of character for Frieka not to stop for an ear scratch and a joke.

Jess looked up at her handsome new husband and lifted a brow. “What, he thinks he can track her by scent?”

“Frieka’s a lot smarter than that.” The Warlord stared thoughtfully after the big wolf. Galar wore his blond hair short and disdained the traditional tattoo, though, like Riane’s, his father had been genetically engineered by House Arvid. “Looks like he’s definitely trying to track something. Wonder why he isn’t using sensors?”

He snorted. “I don’t think so. His temper is a little too short right now, and his teeth are a little too sharp.”

The wolf stopped short in the corridor, breathing deeply. He could smell countless layers of scent, most of which he recognized.

But there was a trace of something else, too. Something faint and alien. A hint of Xeran reek, mixed with a scent he knew. His lips drew back from his teeth, and a deep growl rumbled in his chest.