New Frontiers

by Ben Bova

  Best to have reality this evening, he told himself. There is too little reality in my life these days. So he eased back in his powerchair and watched his approaching visitor on the display screen above the fireplace of the richly carpeted, comfortably paneled old room.

  He had carefully absorbed all the computer’s dossier about Adela de Montgarde: born of a noble family on Gris, a frontier world whose settlers were slowly, painfully transforming from a ball of rock into a viable habitat for human life. He knew her face, her life history, her scientific accomplishments and rank. But now, as he watched her approaching on the display screen built into the stone fireplace, he realized how little knowledge had accompanied the computer’s detailed facts.

  The door to the study swung open automatically, and she stood uncertainly, framed in the doorway.

  The Emperor swiveled his powerchair around to face her. The display screen immediately faded and became indistinguishable from the other stones of the fireplace.

  “Come in, come in, Dr. Montgarde.”

  She was tiny, the smallest woman the Emperor remembered seeing. Her face was almost elfin, with large curious eyes that looked as if they had known laughter. She wore a metallic tunic buttoned to the throat and a brief skirt. Her figure was childlike.

  The Emperor smiled to himself. She certainly won’t tempt me with her body.

  As she stepped hesitantly into the study, her eyes darting all around the room, the Emperor said:

  “I’m sure that my aides have filled your head with all sorts of nonsense about protocol—when to stand, when to bow, what forms of address to use. Forget it all. This is an informal meeting, common politeness will suffice. If you need a form of address for me, call me sire. I shall call you Adela, if you don’t mind.”

  With a slow nod of her head, she answered, “Thank you, sire. That will be fine.” Her voice was so soft that he could barely hear it. He thought he detected a slight waver in it.

  She’s not going to make this easy for me, he said to himself. Then he noticed the stone she wore on a slim silver chain about her neck.

  “Agate,” he said.

  She fingered the stone reflexively. “Yes … it’s from my homeworld … Gris. Our planet is rich in minerals.”

  “And poor in cultivable land.”

  “True. But we are converting more land every year.”

  “Please sit down,” the Emperor said. “I’m afraid it’s been so long since my old legs have tried to stand in full gravity that I’m forced to remain in this powerchair … or lower the gravitational field in this room. The computer files said that you are not accustomed to low-G fields.”

  She glanced around the warm, richly furnished room.

  “Any seat you like. My chair rides like a magic carpet.”

  Adela picked the biggest couch in the room and tucked herself into a corner of it. The Emperor glided his chair over to her.

  “It’s very kind of you to keep the gravity up for me,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It costs nothing to be polite. But tell me, of all the minerals that Gris is famous for, why did you choose to wear agate?”

  She blushed.

  The Emperor laughed. “Come, come, my dear. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s well known that agate is a magical stone that protects the wearer from scorpions and snakes. An ancient superstition, of course, but it could possibly be significant, eh?”

  “No! It’s not that!”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It … agate also makes the wearer … eloquent in speech.”

  “And a favorite of princes,” added the Emperor.

  Her blush had gone. She sat straighter and almost smiled. “And it gives one victory over her enemies.”

  “You perceive me as your enemy?”

  “Oh no!” She reached out toward him, her small, childlike hand almost touching his.

  “Who then?”

  “The hierarchy. The old men who pretend to be young and refuse to admit any new ideas into the scientific community.”

  “I am an old man, Adela.”

  “Yes…” She stared frankly into his aged face. “I was surprised when I saw you a few moments ago. I’ve seen holographic images, of course … but you … you’ve aged.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Why can’t you be rejuvenated? It seems like a useless old superstition to keep the Emperor from using modern biomedical therapies.”

  “No, no, my child. It is a very wise tradition. You complain of inflexible old men at the top of the scientific hierarchy. Suppose you had an inflexible old man on the Emperor’s throne? A man who would live not merely six or seven score years, but many centuries? What would happen to the Empire then?”

  “Ohh. I see.” And there was real understanding in her eyes. And sympathy.

  “So the king must die, to make room for new blood, new ideas, new vigor.”

  “It’s sad,” she said. “You are known everywhere as a good Emperor. The people love you.”

  He felt his eyebrows rise. “Even on the frontier worlds?”

  “Yes. They know that Fain and his troops would be standing on our necks if it weren’t for the Emperor. We are not without our sources of information.”

  He smiled. “Interesting.”

  “But that isn’t why you called me here to see you,” Adela said.

  She grows bolder. “True. You want to save Earth’s Sun. Acadamecian Bomeer and all my advisors tell me that it is either impossible or foolish. I fear they have powerful arguments on their side.”

  “Perhaps,” she said, “But I have the facts.”

  “I have seen your presentation, I understand the scientific basis of your plan.”

  “We can do it!” Adela said, her hands suddenly animated. “We can! The critical mass is really minuscule compared to…”

  “Gigatons are minuscule?”

  “Compared to the effect they will produce, yes.”

  And then she was on her feet, pacing the room, ticking off points on her fingers, lecturing, pleading, cajoling. The Emperor’s powerchair nodded back and forth, following her intense, wiry form as she paced.

  “Of course it will take vast resources! And time—more than a century before we know to a first-order approximation if the initial steps are working. I’ll have to give myself up to cryosleep for decades at a time. But we have the resources! And we have the time … just barely. We can do it, if we want to.”

  The Emperor said, “How can you expect me to divert half the resources of the Empire to save Earth’s Sun?”

  “Because Earth is important,” she argued back, a tiny fighter standing alone in the middle of the Emperor’s study. “It’s the baseline for all the other worlds of the Empire. On Gris we send biogenetic teams every twenty-five years to check our own mutation rate. The cost is enormous for us, but we do it. We have to.”

  “We can move Earth’s population to another G-type star. There are plenty of them.”

  “It won’t be the same.”

  “Adela, my dear, believe me, I would like to help. I know how important Earth is. We simply cannot afford to try your scheme now. Perhaps in another hundred years or so…”

  “That will be too late.”

  “But new scientific advances…”

  “Under Bomeer and his ilk? Hah!”

  The Emperor wanted to frown at her, but somehow his face would not compose itself properly. “You are a fierce, uncompromising woman,” he said.

  She came to him and dropped to her knees at his feet. “No, sire. I’m not. I’m foolish and vain and utterly self-centered. I want to save Earth because I know I can do it. I can’t stand the thought of living the rest of my life knowing that I could have done it, but never had the chance to try.”

  Now we’re getting to the truth, the Emperor thought.

  Adela continued, “And someday, maybe a million years from now, maybe a billion … Gris’s sun will become unstable. I want to be able to save Gris, too. And any other world whos
e star threatens it. I want all the Empire to know that Adela de Montgarde discovered the way to do it!”

  The Emperor felt the breath rush out of him.

  “Sire,” she went on, “I’m sorry if I’m speaking impolitely or stupidly. It’s just that I know we can do this thing, do it successfully, and you’re the only one who can make it happen.”

  But he was barely listening. “Come with me,” he said, grasping her slim wrists and raising her to her feet. “It’s time for the evening meal. I want you to meet my son.”

  6

  JAVAS PUT ON his usual amused smirk when the Emperor introduced Adela. Will nothing ever reach past his everlasting façade of polite boredom? Rihana, at least, was properly enraged. He could see the anger on her face: A virtual barbarian from some frontier planet. Daughter of a petty noble. Practically a commoner. Dining with them!

  “Such a young child to have such grandiose schemes,” said the princess once she realized who Adela was.

  “Surely,” said the Emperor, “you had grandiose schemes of your own when you were young, Rihana. Of course, they involved lineages and marriages rather than astrophysics, didn’t they?”

  Neither of them smiled.

  The Emperor had ordered dinner out on the terrace, under the glowing night sky of the Imperial Planet. Rihana, who was responsible for household affairs, always had sumptuous meals spread for them: the best meats and fowl and fruits of a dozen prime worlds. Adela looked bewildered at the array placed before her by the human servants. Such riches were obviously new to her. The Emperor ate sparingly and watched them all.

  Inevitably the conversation returned to Adela’s plan to save Earth’s Sun. And Adela, subdued and timid at first, slowly turned tigress once again. She met Rihana’s scorn with coldly furious logic. She countered Javas’s skepticism with:

  “Of course, since it will take more than a century before the outcome of the project is proven, you will probably be the Emperor who is remembered by all the human race as the one who saved the Earth.”

  Javas’s eyes widened slightly. That hit home, the Emperor noticed. For once something affected the boy. This girl should be kept at the palace.

  But Rihana snapped, “Why should the crown prince care about saving Earth? His brother was murdered by an Earthman.”

  The Emperor felt his blood turn to ice.

  Adela looked panic-stricken. She turned to the Emperor, wide-eyed, open-mouthed.

  “My eldest son died on Earth,” he told her. “My second son was killed putting down a rebellion on a frontier world. My third son died of a strange viral infection that some tell me was assassination.” He stared at Rihana. “Death is a constant companion in every royal house.”

  “Three sons…” Adela seemed about to burst into tears.

  “I have not punished Earth, nor that frontier world, nor sought to find a possible assassin,” the Emperor went on, icily. “My only hope is that my last remaining son will make a good Emperor despite his … handicaps.”

  Javas turned very deliberately in his chair to stare out at the dark forest. He seemed bored by the antagonism between his wife and his father. Rihana glowered like molten lava.

  The dinner ended in dismal, bitter silence. The Emperor sent them all away to their rooms while he remained on the terrace and stared hard at the stars strewn so thickly across the sky.

  He closed his eyes and summoned a computer-assisted image of Earth’s Sun. He saw it coalesce from a hazy cloud of cold gas and dust, saw it turn into a star and spawn planets. Saw it beaming out energy that allowed life to grow and flourish on some of those planets. And then he saw it age, blemish, erupt, swell, and finally collapse into a dark cinder.

  Just as I will, thought the Emperor. The Sun and I have both reached the age where a bit of rejuvenation is needed. Otherwise … death.

  He opened his eyes and looked down at his veined, fleshless, knobby hands. How different from hers! How young and vital she is.

  With a touch on one of the control studs set into the arm of his powerchair, he headed for his bedroom.

  I cannot be rejuvenated. It is wrong even to desire it. But the Sun? Would it be wrong to try? Is it proper for puny men to tamper with the destinies of the stars themselves?

  Once in his tower-top bedroom he called for her. Adela came to him quickly, without delay or question. She wore a simple knee-length gown tied loosely at the waist. It hung limply over her childlike figure.

  “You sent for me, sire.” It was not a question but a statement. The Emperor knew her meaning: I will do what you ask, but in return I expect you to give me what I desire.

  He was already reclining in the soft embrace of his bed. The texture of the monolayer surface felt soft and protective. The warmth of the water beneath it eased his tired body.

  “Come here, child. Come and talk to me. I hardly ever sleep anymore; it gives my doctors something to worry about. Come and sit beside me and tell me all about yourself … the parts of your life story that are not on file in the computers.”

  She sat on the edge of the huge bed; its nearly living surface barely dimpled under her spare body.

  “What would you like to know?” she asked.

  “I never had a daughter,” the Emperor said. “What was your childhood like? How did you become the woman you are?”

  She began to tell him. Living underground in the mining settlements on Gris. Seeing sunlight only when the planet was far enough from its too-bright star to allow humans to walk on the surface safely. Playing in the tunnels. Sent by her parents to other worlds for schooling. The realization that her beauty was not physical. The few lovers she had known. The astronomer who had championed her cause to the Emperor at that meeting nearly fifteen years ago. Their brief marriage. Its breakup when he realized that being married to her kept him from advancing in the hierarchy.

  “You have known pain too,” the Emperor said.

  “It’s not an Imperial prerogative,” she answered softly. “Everybody who lives knows pain.”

  By now the sky was milky white with the approach of dawn. The Emperor smiled at her.

  “Before breakfast everyone in the palace will know that you spent the night with me. I’m afraid I have ruined your reputation.”

  She smiled back, impishly. “Or perhaps made my reputation.”

  He reached out and grasped her by her shoulders. Holding her at arm’s length, he searched her face with a long, sad, almost fatherly look.

  “It would not be a kindness to grant your request. If I allow you to pursue this dream of yours, have you any idea of the enemies it would make for you? Your life would be so cruel, so filled with envy and hatred.”

  “I know that,” Adela said evenly. “I’ve known that from the beginning.”

  “And you are not afraid?”

  “Of course I’m afraid! But I won’t turn away from what I must do. Not because of fear. Not because of envy or hatred or any other reason.”

  “Not even for love?”

  He felt her body stiffen. “No,” she said. “Not even for love.”

  The Emperor let his hands drop away from her and called out to the computer, “Connect me with Prince Javas, Academician Bomeer, and Commander Fain.”

  Almost instantly the three holographic images appeared on separate segments of the farthest bedroom wall. Bomeer, halfway across the planet in late afternoon, was at his ornate desk. Fain appeared to be on the bridge of a warcraft. Javas, of course, was still in bed. It was not Rihana who lay next to him.

  The Emperor’s first impulse was disapproval, but then he wondered where Rihana was sleeping.

  “I am sorry to intrude on you so abruptly,” he said to all three men, while they were still staring at the slight young woman sitting on the bed with their Emperor. “I have made my decision on the question of trying to save Earth’s Sun.”

  Bomeer folded his hands on his desktop. Fain, on his feet, shifted uneasily. Javas arched an eyebrow and looked more curious than anything else.

>   “I have listened to your arguments and find that there is much merit in them. I have also listened carefully to Dr. Montgarde’s arguments, and find much merit in them, as well.”

  Adela sat rigidly beside him. The expression on her face was frozen: she feared nothing and expected nothing. She neither hoped nor despaired. She waited, hardly breathing. She waited.

  “We will move the Imperial throne and all the court to Earth’s only Moon,” said the Emperor.

  They gasped. All of them.

  “Since this project to save the Sun will take many human generations, we will want the seat of the Empire close enough to the project so that the Emperor may take a direct view of its progress.”

  “But you can’t move the entire capital!” Fain protested. “And to Earth! It’s a backwater…”

  “Commander Fain,” the Emperor said sternly. “Yesterday you were prepared to move Earth’s millions. I ask now that the Fleet move the court’s thousands. And Earth will no longer be a backwater once the Empire is centered once again at the original home of the human race.”

  Bomeer sputtered. “But … but what if the plan fails? The Sun will erupt … and … and…”

  “That is a decision to be made in the future.”

  The Emperor glanced at Adela. Her expression had not changed noticeably, but she was breathing rapidly now. The excitement had hit her body, it hadn’t yet penetrated her emotional defenses.

  “Father,” said Javas, “may I point out that it takes five years in realtime to reach Earth from here? The Empire can’t be governed without an Emperor for five years.”

  “Quite true, my son. You will go to Earth before me. Once you’ve set up everything there, you will become acting Emperor while I make the trip.”

  Javas’s mouth dropped open. “Acting Emperor? For five years?”

  “With a little luck,” the Emperor said, grinning slightly, “old age will catch up with me before I reach Earth and you will be the full-fledged Emperor for the rest of your life.”