by Ben Bova
CHAPTER SEVEN
I was wrong, the Emperor reflected as he watched Adela de Montgarde approach. She hasn't aged; she's matured. True, the corners of her eyes showed new lines that hadn't existed when she'd left Corinth for Earth's Moon. Her figure was fuller now as well, less boyish than he'd remembered. But if the tasks ahead of her on this difficult endeavor had aged her slightly, they had also invigorated her, filled her with a purpose that was easy to see after so long a separation. Still, despite her newfound maturity, he took comfort in the childlike way she delighted in each of the pleasures the royal family's private garden presented.
The scientist walked briskly toward him through the garden. Smaller than the common green area of the Imperial dome—which, in turn, was only slightly less magnificent than the main green of Armelin City itself—the garden was aglow in plants, birds and flowers in hundreds of colors, from dozens of worlds.
There was a bounce to her step, he noticed, that the lunar-normal gravity could not quite account for. She's anxious, excited, he reasoned. Do I have the right to make her dream more difficult? She slowed her pace as she approached, but before she could formally greet him, he smiled and motioned her to come, forward.
"There is no need for protocol here," he said, "nor time for the luxury. Please walk with me." The Emperor smoothly rotated his powerchair, gliding it silently down one of the several flagstone paths crisscrossing the garden. As they walked, she discussed the project and the many successes she'd already had in her research. Only half listening, the Emperor studied her as they followed the path. Her bio-readouts were strong, he verified; no less strong than her determination.
"I wanted to speak to you before tomorrow's Planetary Council," he said. "So much has occurred since my arrival, and there's been little time. Are you ready for your presentation?"
She laughed softly. "Sire, I've been rehearsing this presentation, in one form or another, for many years now. I've never been more prepared for anything in my life."
"Yes, I suppose you have at that. Come; this way." The foot-path widened, passing through a series of flower beds before ending in a circular clearing perhaps forty meters wide where a number of the garden paths converged. Scattered throughout the area, surrounded by a ring of high shrubbery, were several stone benches. The Emperor directed the powerchair to the nearest of the benches and indicated that Adela be seated. He looked around him at the beauty of the garden and breathed deeply of the scented air. Adela sat straighter on the bench and waited in silence for him to continue. She seemed to have sensed the change in his demeanor, and the Emperor realized he must have let his guard down momentarily. It's getting harder to hide my feelings, he thought bitterly. It's getting harder to lie.
"Adela, I need to speak to you of two very important matters."
"Sire?" Her tone carried with it a sense of worry. Her eyes darted nervously around the garden and her hands fidgeted in her lap. The Emperor did not need the integrator to tell him that her heart was racing.
She thinks I am taking her dream from her! "First, understand that the project has my full support." She relaxed, but only slightly. "I know that the long years you have spent setting up the groundwork have been difficult. But remember that it is only a beginning."
Her smile now long-vanished, she looked deeply into his face. "I realize that," she said. There was something in her voice that took several moments for the Emperor to identify.
It suddenly struck him what it was and he regarded her differently as he went on. "I'm talking down to you, aren't I? Like an old man to a child."
Adela lowered her eyes, her silence confirming his question.
He chuckled in apology. "Forgive this old man, then, who seems to have developed an old man's habits." She looked back up at him, and he was relieved to see a sparkle return to her eyes.
"Let me speak bluntly, then, one adult to another: Adela, I am dying." She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued before she could speak. "At one point, I was doubtful that I would survive the journey here. I'm afraid that I even resorted to a few drastic measures to assure my healthy arrival on the Moon."
"Drastic measures? I'm not sure I—"
" 'Drastic' is, perhaps, a poor word choice; I should have said 'illegal.' On the voyage here, my medical staff saw to it that I was kept isolated for weeks, even months, at a time for various health reasons. Under my orders, they explained to the Imperial Court that I was 'being prepared,' medically speaking, for the transition from the open environmental and atmospheric conditions on Corinth to the closed lunar environment here." He swept a fragile hand to indicate the huge domework above their heads. "Only my personal medical aide and a handful of the Imperial staff know that I spent a cumulative total of nine years in cryosleep." He waited a moment for the words to sink in. "Even Javas is unaware of this."
Adela rose wordlessly and walked a few meters to a blossom-laden bush. The Emperor accessed his integrator and called up a botanical file that identified the bright yellow and orange foliage as that of a firebush from her native Gris. She absently plucked one of the fire-red blooms and turned back to the Emperor, her eyes avoiding his as he spoke.
"I did not want to resort to violating a law that even I had steadfastly supported throughout my reign," he went on, "but it was a necessary evil."
Adela returned to her place on the stone bench. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked softly, setting the flower next to her on the bench.
He reached out, taking one of her hands in both of his. "I knew that I would not live to reach Sol system. I also knew that without my presence here for the official transfer of the Imperial Court, Javas would have a much more difficult time in gaining initial acceptance for his support of the project, especially with the likes of Bomeer and his followers working at every opportunity to turn sentiment against it."
He signed deeply and leaned wearily back in the powerchair. "I tell you this now because I want you to realize something: I want you to know that I felt strongly enough about the purpose and validity of your dream that I was willing to do what was necessary to continue my part in it." He paused, then added, "Look at me." Adela lifted her face and regarded the Emperor once more.
"If your cause is right, then you do whatever is necessary to make it succeed. It is not always pleasant, for it often inflicts pain upon you, as well as upon those around you; but Adela, you must adopt this attitude for yourself—or you will fail."
"I know." Her voice was a whisper.
"Much will happen at the Planetary Council and in the days to follow. I will offer what help I can in the time left me, but understand this: Whatever happens, remain true to what you know is right."
The Emperor reached for the flower and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply of the sweet fragrance.
"It's a firebush," she offered, "from my homeworld. They were lunar-adapted and planted at Prince Javas' request. He… knew how much I missed home."
You've captured him, haven't you? Much the way you captured me, he mused silently, and handed the bloom to her. She sniffed at it, then held it to her face, gently stroking the soft petals against the skin of her cheek.
"There… is another thing," he said, surprised at his hesitation. The man who ruled a hundred worlds, who had passed judgment on millions, now felt nervous, uncertain for the first time he could remember.
"Yes?" There was a sober fear reflected in her eyes at what he might say next. She dropped her hands to her lap, where nervous fingers twirled the stem of the flower first one way, then the other.
"The explosion in the landing bay was not an accident," he said abruptly, making no attempt to soften the words. "It was an assassination attempt—directed at you."
Her lips quivered, and a single tear rolled slowly down the same cheek that moments before had felt the caress of a flower, now lying forgotten on the ground at her feet.
"Somehow… deep inside me… I think I already knew that it was my fault." Her breath came haltingly in heavy sobs, and she lowered her face in
to her hands.
With only a few hours remaining before the start of the Hundred Worlds Planetary Council, Adela had assembled several members of her staff in the reception area of her office at the Imperial lab facilities. Spirits were high as they talked among themselves in anticipation of the event. Although they had already been hard at work on Luna for several years, today's Council session would mark the official beginning of the project.
"How do I look?" asked Kel Sites, her first assistant. She stifled a laugh as she saw him standing before her in his formal tunic, hands spread at his sides for her approval, and wondered just how uncomfortable and out of place he must be feeling in the formal outfit. Everyone on the lab staff, for that matter, looked like strangers in what they had jokingly referred to as "Imperial costume."
"Better check a mirror," she suggested, pointing to the front of the tunic. He groaned when he realized, to the delight of those nearest him, that he'd fastened the entire row of buttons one buttonhole off from the proper order. Several of the others in the group, no more accustomed to the buttons and hooks found on formal attire than Kel, hastily checked their own appearances.
"Hey, don't worry, Kel," one of them offered. "We'll make them all wait until you figure it out." The room burst into good-natured kidding at Kel's expense. None of them knew what had transpired at her meeting earlier with the Emperor, of course, but Adela felt good at how the mood of everyone in the room had managed to cheer her up. In spite of herself, she joined in the laughter; and enjoyed it.
"Dr. Montgarde?"
Adela turned to find a stranger, hands clasped casually in front of him. While smartly dressed in a modest business suit, something in his manner made it obvious that he was someone's servant.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
He nodded politely. "My name is Poser, attendant to House Valtane. Mistress Rihana Valtane wishes to call on you."
The light bantering in the room faded instantly at the mention of the name.
"I'm afraid now would not be a convenient—"
"She wishes to call on you alone," he went on, flashing his best plastic smile. "I have taken the liberty of arranging an audience for you in your private office."
"In my… I see."
The man waited patiently, the smile not wavering. He seemed determined not to budge; but then, knowing Javas' former wife, the man probably feared for his life if he did.
"All right." Adela turned and addressed her lab staff. "Kel, you and the others are dismissed for now. I'll meet you all later at the auditorium." Her visitor waited in silence as the others bid Adela good-bye and filed out of the room, whispering among themselves.
"Well?" she asked once the last of the group had left.
His smile widened, if that was possible, and he stood aside as she walked past him down the hall, then fell quickly into step behind her.
There was a reception desk and terminal station outside her office, and Adela's secretary was on his feet as soon as he saw her approaching.
"I'm sorry, Doctor," he blurted, "but she insisted on waiting in—"
Adela cut him off with an understanding smile and a shake of her head. "It's all right, Stase," she said. "Why don't you take a break."
He nodded eagerly, anxious to get away from what looked like a confrontation, then snapped off the terminal before making a hasty disappearance down the hall.
Poser rapped sharply on the door and another attendant opened it from inside. "Dr. Montgarde is here," he said once the door had slid completely aside.
He motioned for Adela to follow him and took position next to the open door, announcing her formally as she entered. "Dr. Adela de Montgarde—Mistress Rihana of House Valtane."
As angry as Adela was over her visitor's insistence that she stop what she was doing to grant her an "audience," she could not help but be awed by what she saw. Rihana was even more striking than Adela had remembered when she'd first met the woman at the Emperor's table—and Prince Javas' side—on Corinth years earlier. She wore a clinging gown of cobalt blue that shimmered and sparkled with even the tiniest movement. A torque of sapphire, seemingly carved from a single gemstone, and the matching blue stones at her wrists and ears formed a perfect contrast to the copper hair that was pulled to the side and fastened in such a manner as to sweep in a fiery mass across one shoulder.
Adela bowed, automatically respectful. "Princess Rihana—"
An icy stare cut Adela off before she could finish. "Dr. Montgarde, as I'm sure you are aware, the title of 'Princess' is, well, no longer accurate. 'Mistress' will do fine."
Adela felt an angry heat rise within her, but forced it down and bowed her head slightly once more. "As you wish, Mistress. What can I do—"
"Thank you Poser, Dennie," she snapped, interrupting Adela again. "That will be all for now."
The two nodded curtly, then left, thumbing the door closed from outside. Adela heard a faint click and realized one of Rihana's attendants had taken the liberty of putting the door into private mode.
"What brings you here, Mistress?" Adela asked, keeping her voice as friendly as possible. "I wasn't even aware that you were on the Moon."
Rihana looked thoughtful a moment, then said, "May I be seated?" She indicated a sofa at the far side of the room adjacent to Adela's desk and, not waiting for an answer, approached it.
Adela followed, inwardly impressed at how the woman's gown shimmered as she walked, and wondered for a moment just how much the outfit must have cost. She sat in a chair opposite her guest, folding her arms in front of her.
"As I asked before, what brings you here?"
Rihana picked up a small figurine from the desk, carved from a piece of Grisian rockwood, and examined it, turning it over in her delicate hands as she spoke. "I think we have something to offer one another," she began without preamble. "My House would be interested in offering—for a price, of course—full cooperation toward achieving your, ah, goal." She raised a knowing eyebrow and allowed the sound of a smile to lace her words. "House Valtane has considerable influence on a number of the frontier worlds; influence that may be needed to bring your project to fruition." She set the figurine on top of a stack of reports on the desk and made no move to right it when it toppled over.
"And what of the frontier worlds?" Adela shot back, making little attempt now to hide the rising wave of contempt she felt for her uninvited guest. "Do you see a problem there, Mistress?"
Rihana's eyes flashed, her composure slipping for a brief instant before she resumed. "Let's be honest with one another, shall we? Without the full support of every planet of the Hundred Worlds, you can't hope to achieve a successful end to this project. My House has influence that… might be put at your disposal."
"I see." Adela raised an eyebrow of her own. "You admit now that my ideas have merit?"
The erstwhile Princess nodded almost imperceptibly in the realization that she was dealing with a strong adversary here. "Let me say this: My people have researched your theories and have found them to be valid. Technically valid, that is." She leaned back in the sofa and crossed long legs. Adela noted that the gown was slit up one side and showed the woman's assets to good advantage. "Personally, however, I still feel the endeavor to be a foolish dream of a foolish man trying to make a last, memorable impression on his subjects. But, no matter; I see a great profit in this for my House. And what is so dreadfully wrong in that?"
And just what is it you really want? Adela wondered. And what might your price be? "Here is your answer, then: There is nothing wrong with that, Mistress. In fact, I'll certainly need to make use of whatever help I can get. If your influence could become a factor in gaining support from the frontier worlds, then the help of House Valtane would be most welcome."
Apparently satisfied that this meeting was ended, Rihana rose and crossed to the door.
"Thank you for your time, Doctor," she said, tossing a holocard on the service table. The flimsy card skittered frictionlessly across the surface of the table and fell to
the floor.
"You can reach me with this to set up any arrangements we deem mutually beneficial." She smiled politely and half bowed, certainly more out of acknowledgment than respect, and knocked once at the closed door. One of her attendants on the other side opened it immediately.
Before exiting, however, Rihana turned briefly, almost as an afterthought. "This project… it will take many generations to complete, am I correct?"
"Yes, it will," she replied, rising. "I'll need years of cryosleep and rejuvenation to see it through to its conclusion."
Rihana nodded, a sadistic smile coming to her lips. "Then you will lose him, you know. Just as I did." She turned abruptly and left without another word.
Adela knew it, of course, but had refused to allow herself to think about it. Not now. Not today.
She thumbed the door closed and retrieved the holocard, noting that the copper-colored card was apparently blank, translucent. Holding it to the light at the right angle, however, the Valtane crest glowed a brilliant cobalt blue.
Emperor Nicholas felt slightly dazed and blinked several times, trying to minimize the stress caused by the lengthy integrator download he'd just accepted. Accessing the Imperial computer system was becoming more of a strain to him, and he reserved its use lately only for periodic bits of quick information, or for those informational files that were too long to be reported orally. Like the one Glenney had just given him.
"They were all killed, then?" the Emperor asked at last.
Glenney lowered his eyes. "Unfortunately yes. We don't have much to go on at this point; and we're getting precious little help from authorities on Earth."
"You are certain their ties lead to the planet itself?"
"Yes, Sire. Further, as I mentioned in the report, I'm beginning to believe this group may have been involved in the landing bay explosion, or connected to the group that was." Glenney reached into his jacket and produced a gold bracelet, handing it to the Emperor. "Two of the dead men were wearing these."
The Emperor turned it over in his hands, examining the workmanship of the etching on its surface, and noticed how light it was. He tapped it on the armrest of the powerchair. "Hollow?"