Her lips curved into an icy perfect smile. “Indeed.”
* * *
From space the Orbiter looked like a metal ball bristling with antennae, weapons, towers, and cranes. Lights traveled in loops along it, like great radiant necklaces. The habitat was otherwise gray and functional, a craggy ball spinning in space.
Inside was a wonderland.
The Orbiter’s rotation axis pierced its north and south poles, and the apparent gravitational force created by the spinning sphere pointed perpendicular to that axis. At the Orbiter’s equator, the force was perpendicular to the inner hull, which made the ground flat. Walking away from the equator was like climbing a slope that became steeper as one neared the pole. The surface was terraformed to match, becoming more and more mountainous. But gravity lessened as the slope steepened. Although at the actual poles the slope became vertical, gravity was zero there, so “vertical” lost meaning.
It took the Orbiter ninety seconds for one rotation. With a diameter of four kilometers, its gravity at the equator about equaled that of Earth. Anything moving on the inner surface of the sphere also experienced a Coriolis force that pushed it to the side. The faster its motion, the greater the push. For typical speeds the effect was small, but in the low-gravity regions around the pole it became more of a problem, making hikers drift to the side.
The inner surface had an area about fifty kilometers square, divided into two hemispheres, Sky and Ground. The north and south poles lay on the horizon. Sky was blue, a dimpled luminous surface that changed color according to the time of “day.” Every thirty hours a sun rose in a coral-hued dawn, made its way across Sky on an invisible track, and set in a fiery sunset. The huge lamp provided electromagnetic radiation at wavelengths optimal to human life.
Parks and mountains covered the ground hemisphere, with City in its exact center. As coloratura was to song, lyricism to prose, and filigree to metalwork, so City was to other metropolises. Its graceful curves and arches pleased the eye, as did its soft colors, sky blue, rose, lavender, forest green. And City was never still. The ends of bridges floated down to tiled paths. Arches opened in walls, then closed again or drifted to other places. Travel was by foot only, or a small monorail that blended with the scenery.
The horizon separated Ground and Sky, and the north and south poles lay on it. The equator circled the sphere equidistant between the two poles, and crossed the circle of the horizon at right angles. Near the equator, the horizon was no more than the border of a lawn, grass on one side, sky on the other. Away from the equator, approaching the horizon was like moving sideways along a hill—except at the horizon you could keep going, edging with poetic whimsy along the sky just as you had edged along the hill.
Near the poles, the horizon was terraformed into cliffs, to discourage hikers. Airborne robots patrolled the area. The lighter gravity made the cliffs easy to climb, but a misplaced step could cause a fall. Those bemused hikers who fell onto Sky could end up sliding with ever-increasing weight down a two-kilometer-long slope.
Strolling along the equator was like walking on flat ground, with “down” being right under wherever a person happened to be standing. Hikers could start from City, go to the horizon, walk along Sky until City was “above” them, continue to the opposite horizon, step back onto Ground, and cross the parks back to City. With a circumference of only twelve kilometers, the equator could be walked within a day. On holidays the sky filled with people hiking, picnicking, and playing sports.
Command centers honeycombed the Orbiter’s hull, including the War Room. About halfway from City to the horizon, the mountains hid an idyllic valley guarded by the Imperialate’s best security, sheltering houses where the Ruby Dynasty lived when they were on the Orbiter.
Kurj rode a magrail car to the valley, which in his ever-literal style he had named Valley. Entering Valley required extensive security checks, all of which unobtrusively took place while he sat in the car reading holographs of the last Assembly session. The magrail let him off a few hundred meters from his house, and he walked the rest of the way to the stone mansion on the side of a mountain.
Today he felt heavy.
Kurj knew it made no sense, given that the gravity here was only at about 70 percent. He preferred it that way; he was simply too massive for standard gravity, the volume-to-area ratio of his body too big. But still, today, he felt heavy.
He entered his home by a doorway big enough for three men to walk through together. It had no door. In Valley’s controlled environment, the weather was whatever he wanted. So he lived in eternal spring and left his house open to the air.
His living room was five times as large as those built by normal-sized humans. It stretched out, open and airy, all stone surfaces, smooth, polished, gray. When he entered, the dormant walls were drowsing, just the barest line of gold glowing at waist-level. The pressure of his tread woke the house and the glow increased, outlining a desert landscape, sand below the horizon, amber sky above.
Kurj sat on the couch, one of the few furnishings in the sparse room. It molded to his body, easing his muscles, but his fatigue went far deeper than the exhaustion produced by the strain of carrying his large bulk. Leaning forward, with his booted feet planted wide, he rested his elbows on his knees and—in the privacy of his home where no one could see—put his head in his hands.
He had just spent two days monitoring the war machine under his command. Maneuvers, inventories, war games, communications, skirmishes—he oversaw it all. He absorbed data from across the stars and processed it in a web that spread throughout his body and the Orbiter. Every analysis yielded the same result; ISC operated like a well-oiled machine. But within the beauty of that order he saw another pattern, one that added a weight to his step no change in gravity could ever ease.
It wasn’t enough.
He had shaped the most powerful war machine ever known by free humanity. The most versatile. The fastest. And it wasn’t enough. The Traders wouldn’t conquer them today, tomorrow, or next year. But bit by inexorable bit, Eube would wear them down, until Imperial Skolia fell to its relentless force. He had given his life, even his humanity, to prevent that future. And it wasn’t enough.
Kurj looked around the empty room. “I’m tired,” he said. The room didn’t answer.
A, attend, he thought.
Attending.
Access the Ψ gate and link me to the Assembly web on Parthonia.
You aren’t jacked into the web.
Use an IR link. Although IR transmissions were less secure than a direct link, little chance existed that anyone could intercept a transmission sent from where he sat to a console across the room.
Link to planet Parthonia established, A thought.
Has the Assembly session begun yet?
No. It begins in two hours and six minutes, standard. Will you attend?
Yes. He would rather have slept, but Parthonia time cycles had no connection to the Orbiter. He also needed to finish his preparations for the session. Dehya opposed the proposed ban on trade with the dust merchants who mined Onyx Sector. She claimed the ban would weaken the Onyx economy, but Kurj suspected she had other reasons, such as using the merchants to spy on Onyx Platform, his ISC base in that sector. So he opposed her opposition. Her challenge in the upcoming Assembly session would be subtle. Intricate. Thorough. Of all opponents, Dehya was the most worthy. So he had to work more on his preparations.
He needed sleep, however. His body required only two hours for every twenty of activity, but losing even one of those hours blunted his acuity. If he slept an hour now, that left him one to work on the Onyx material.
Kurj went to his bedroom, entering through a wide opening with no door. Inside, golden desert images softened the walls of the big stone room, their glow more subdued here. His bed stood against one wall, its huge expanse custom-made for his frame.
A girl was sleeping on the bed.
Kurj stopped. At first his fatigued mind couldn’t absorb her presence. Then
he remembered. The page.
She lay on her side, curled into a ball, her arms wrapped around his pillow. Her jumpsuit was in a style that had become popular after Eldrinson first appeared in public wearing his irritating rustic clothes. It looked much better on her than on his stepfather. The green velvet pants clung to her well-shaped legs. The leather thongs on her bodice had been laced up to her neck in the War Room, but since then someone had loosened them, revealing the curve of her breasts. Her dark brown curls gleamed and her necklace sparkled like water in the sun.
Kurj reevaluated his need for sleep. Sitting on the bed, he smoothed her hair back from her face, then touched the sparkling trim on her collar. He wondered what would happen when she opened her eyes.
The companions he chose reacted in different ways to his attention. Often they feared him, though many tried to hide it, some putting on a show of love that would have fooled a lesser empath. If their fear was too great, he let them go. But many accepted their situation. A few even grew to like him. All sought to use his favor, hoping their charms would soften his heart. And somehow he always found himself giving them what they wanted, wealth, jewels, a new job, a nicer house.
He usually sent his security team for the woman he chose and had them leave her here. Sometimes he took her to a lake hidden in the hills, where they dined on a floating barge with lamps and music and later made love surrounded by the whispering lap of the water. It was, he supposed, romantic. Women seemed to like it, anyway.
Kurj watched the page, whose name he couldn’t remember. As far as he could tell, no specters haunted her sleep. It relieved him that as of yet he had picked up no fear on her part. He didn’t want to have to let this one go, not now, when he so needed companionship.
An oddity registered. This morning he had left a shirt on his bed when he decided to wear a sweater instead. For some reason the page had wrapped the shirt around the pillow she was holding. Why would she embrace his clothes?
He slid his hand along her side, in to her waist, and out again over the swell of her hips. The girl stirred, then opened her eyes, blinking. With his hand resting on her hip, Kurj leaned down and kissed her.
Her jumble of emotions swept over him: surprise, shyness, uncertainty. Through all that confusion, a vivid thread gleamed. Disconcerted, he stopped kissing her and pulled back. Of all the ridiculous things. This girl thought she was in love with him.
He eased down his mental barriers to see what else he could pick up. Her images vibrated. Although she hadn’t been sexually abused in the orphanage, the emotional lacks had done almost as much damage. She didn’t perceive herself as a source of disorder; rather, she saw the rest of the universe as chaos. Her gratitude to Bozner for sending her to the Orbiter permeated her thoughts.
But one image stood out. The day she walked into the War Room and looked up to see Skolia’s Imperator in his throne among the stars, she felt safe for the first time in her life. So she fell in love with him. She imagined him as a hero and populated her fantasies with him as an affectionate, gentle suitor. It was an image so far removed from his true personality it might as well have been another man with no connection to him at all.
She watched him like an animal mesmerized by night lamps. For some reason his face relaxed into an unaccustomed expression. A smile. He tugged the pillow out of her arms and lay down next to her. When he drew her into his arms, she tensed, her confusion sweeping over him.
“It’s all right,” he said. Then he outdid himself in verbosity, adding a second sentence. “I won’t hurt you.”
She slid her arms around his waist, giving him a tentative smile. “My greetings, Imperator Skolia.” Her voice had a rich quality that pleased him.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Ami.”
“Ami.” He pulled the laces on her jumpsuit, unfastening them the rest of the way. “A pleasant name, that.”
As he undressed her, she stared at his chest, her cheeks red. From her mind, he picked up that she had hardly ever been kissed before, let alone anything else. He knew he was far from most women’s choice for their first lover. Yet her thoughts left no doubt. She wanted him and no one else.
He rubbed his thumb along the lacy halter holding her breasts, and she slid her palm over his chest, her curiosity tickling his mind. Then a chime came from the console in the nightstand across the bed.
Kurj swore under his breath. In a louder voice he said, “Skolia here.”
A woman’s deep-timbered voice came out of the console. “Imperator Skolia, this is Admiral Tahota. We’ve intercepted a transmission between the office of President Calloway on Earth and the Eubian Trade Ministry on Glory.”
He pushed up on his elbow. “How much have you decoded?”
“Most of it,” Tahota said. “It concerns an Allied citizen, a boy who ended up in the trade inventory of a Sphinx merchant. Apparently the empress freed the boy and the emperor is arranging his return to Earth.”
Kurj frowned. What purpose could Qox have in freeing a slave or having his own people attend to such a minor matter? “Do you have an ID on the boy?”
“Jessie Tarrington,” Tahota said. “His father is Senator Jack Tarrington, of the Allied Congress.”
So. Politics reared its head. “Where was the boy taken?”
“We aren’t sure yet,” Tahota said. “It looks like his ship changed its flight plan to deliver emergency supplies to a colony near Onyx Sector. Apparently it crossed into Eube space and a pirate caught them.”
“How certain are you that his ship actually left our space?” Kurj asked.
“It’s questionable,” Tahota said. “In fact, they may not have even been close to the border regions.”
“Get me a full analysis,” he told her. “I want all records of Onyx raids in our space, the distribution of their raids, and any known interactions they have with the Onyx dust merchants. I need it in time for the upcoming Assembly session.”
“You’ll have it,” Tahota said. “Shall I open a channel so you can monitor the investigation?”
Kurj watched Ami. When she smiled at him, he almost groaned. To Tahota he said, “No. Have my brother Althor take care of it.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Very good, Admiral. Skolia out.”
“Out, sir.”
Kurj bent his head and kissed Ami again, stroking his hand over her breast. He didn’t have time to make love to her now, not if he intended to take it slow, to avoid hurting her. But for these few minutes he wanted to touch her. For just a few moments he wanted to feel light.
III
Year Four
360 ASC on the Imperial Calendar
383 EG on the Eubian Calendar
A.D. 2263 on the Gregorian Calendar
7
Soz climbed the hill, with the laser carbine slung over her shoulder and a bow and quiver on her back. She followed Jai as he toddled through the spatula grass. Her son’s mood matched the weather: happy and bright. When he crouched to examine a broken geode sparkling with purple crystals, Soz stopped and shifted the weight of the baby in a sling on her hip. Lisi. She and Jaibriol had named her Rocalisa, after Soz’s mother Roca, but they ended up calling her Lisi.
When Lisi let out with a wail, Soz sighed. Only 250 hours old and already her daughter had a pair of lungs to raise the dead. As Soz lifted the baby out of the sling, Jai looked back at them with concerned eyes. Red eyes.
“Why Leesy cry?” he asked, still unable to pronounce the short “i” sound in his sister’s name.
“She’s hungry.” Soz sat down and tugged up the fur shirt Jaibriol had made for her, then cradled Lisi against her.
Jai toddled over. “Leesy always hungry. I want mum-mum too.”
With her free hand Soz tousled his hair. She understood why MedComp wanted her to keep nursing Jai. The immunities and nutrients she gave him were even more important here, where humans maintained so precarious a balance with the environment. It also fulfilled an emotional need for h
im, creating a contentment that suffused her mind. She had thought she would have to stop when she became pregnant again, but MedComp said it was fine, even when Jai grumbled about the change in the taste of her milk. Still, nursing both children at the same time was too much.
“You can have some after Lisi is done,” she said.
“Hungry now,” Jai insisted.
“In just a few minutes, Jaibird.”
“Want now!”
She smiled at him. “Are you practicing to be an emperor or an imperator, hmmm? You wait till Mommy says yes.”
“Now,” Jai grumbled. He sat down and laid his head in her lap, sucking his thumb. Lisi nestled against her, nursing like the suction tube on a star-dock crane.
“Daddy like mum-mum too,” Jai said around his thumb.
Mortified, Soz stared down at him. “Why do you say that?”
“Saw Daddy and Mommy. Daddy hungry too.”
Soz flushed. Living in a one-room house had its problems. Apparently Jai hadn’t been asleep sometime when they thought he was. “We’re going to build you your own room, Jaibird. Special for you. Would you like that?”
“All mine?”
“That’s right. All yours.”
He considered the proposal. “Jaibird like,” he decided.
“Good.” Soz shifted Lisi on her arm. “I have to take you back to the house now. Daddy will look after you for a while.”
“Don’t want house.” Jai sat up, glaring with an inimitable scowl. “Go with you!”
“Sweetbird—”
“No! Go with you!”
“Jai, don’t you know any other word but ‘no’?”
“No!”
Soz made a show of sighing. “Well, I’m sorry. I guess only Lisi gets to stay with Daddy today.”
Confusion sped across his beautiful face. “No! I go with Leesy.”
“Well, I don’t know.” Soz put on a doubtful look.
“Go with Leesy!”
“Well … all right. You can go with Lisi.”