“Very well.” I rubbed my arms, feeling the cool air through the sim-suit. “Thank you, Admiral.”
“It is my honor, Your Highness.” His mood washed over me like clear notes rising above a mutter. His lack of misgivings about our actions contrasted sharply with Vazar and Jon’s doubts. Even I had doubts, but I couldn’t let them show.
When I was alone, I changed my clothes. I had a sort of privacy; my nodes detected no visual sensors watching the room. But monitors kept track of my physiological functions. The whole room was one big sensor.
I sometimes daydreamed I lived in a place where no one cared what I did, where I never had to worry about privacy with my husband, and no one wanted to assassinate, use, kidnap, assault, or be afraid of me. I thought of Eldrin’s words about his childhood on Lyshriol, where they didn’t even have consoles in most rooms and the children had run free in the fields.
I mourned a freedom I had never known.
The holoscreens on the bridge projected huge figures. An Allied officer filled the view, Raymond MacLane, a craggy five-star general with gray hair and deep lines engraved on his face. The Allieds had a reverse cultural dynamic than ours when it came to aging; their men tended to ignore its signs more than their women, whereas Skolian men disguised its advance more than our women. MacLane’s hazel eyes were deeply set under thick eyebrows. He commanded one of the Allieds’ great flagships, the Tricia Andreque, named for one of Earth’s most renowned authors. MacLane was Chad’s counterpart among the Allied fleet escorting us to Earth, since I had promoted Chad to full admiral.
“Our intent is peaceful,” Chad continued. With firm purpose, he added, “We look forward to seeing Councilor Roca, Web Key Eldrinson, Lady Ami, and Kurjson.”
“Of course.” MacLane remained noncommittal.
MacLane’s responses set off my mental alarais. Despite Eldrin’s dream of his father on Lyshriol, Eldrin remained convinced his parents were here, or at least his mother. We needed Roca, who was my heir now that Taquinil had left, and also best suited to take over as Imperator. So we had come to Earth, where the Allieds claimed their “guests” resided. I hoped they were telling the truth.
Even if they had sent Eldrinson to Lyshriol, I doubted they would have let Kurj’s widow Ami and her young son accompany him. She had no blood relation to that branch of the family, and the Allieds wouldn’t want too much of the Ruby Dynasty in one place. I couldn’t imagine they would separate Roca from Eldrinson, but if both had gone to Lyshriol, the Allieds had to tell us soon. Moving the Ruby Dynasty could be interpreted as a hostile act, and they knew ISC responded vehemently when challenged. If Eldrinson had died, they were probably having collective heart failure right now, given our request for his return. Our presence put them in a hellacious position.
The Allieds had always seen us as belligerent and uncivilized, just as we saw them as weak and naïve. And yet…I sometimes thought their approach to life might be better for humanity, even though such a government would strip the Ruby Dynasty of all power. I had never revealed that to anyone, of course, except Eldrin.
As Chad parried with MacLane, I floated a few meters away, holding a cable, with Ragnar at my side. Chad’s channel to the Tricia Andreque showed no more than his command chair. Both Ragnar and I outranked MacLane, so Skolian hierarchal protocols required we not appear unless MacLane acknowledged us as the ranking dignitaries. Given that we didn’t know yet how the Allieds would respond to the new political landscape of Skolia, we hadn’t revealed we were in the middle of a coup or that I had accompanied the fleet.
After Chad and MacLane closed the connection, Ragnar and I moved to the command chair. Chad spoke dryly. “He ought to win the prize for responses that say nothing.”
“Maybe Roca and Eldrinson aren’t here,” I said.
Ragnar scowled. “Then where the blazes are they?”
Good question. “I think it’s time I spoke with the Allied President.”
“No,” Ragnar stated, forgetting protocol.
Chad spoke more carefully. “Pharaoh Dyhianna, I don’t think we should reveal your presence.”
“Why not?” I asked. “If they know I’m on this cruiser, they will be far less likely to attack it.”
Ragnar snorted. “That’s right. They’ll do their damnedest to capture it instead.”
Copying one of his favorite expressions, I raised my eyebrow. “With seventy-five thousand of our ships in attendance?”
“They have over one hundred thousand pacing us,” Chad said.
“They don’t want to fight.” I hooked my arm around the cable, then took floating lengths of my hair and began to twine them into a braid. “We don’t want them to assume this fleet represents the Assembly. I can’t hide now, not if I intend to establish my claim. We have to preempt the Assembly. If the Allieds recognize me as the leader of Skolia, not just in name but in fact, it strengthens our position.”
“I don’t like the risk involved,” Ragnar said.
“It’s not a risk,” Chad said. “They have nothing to gain and everything to lose if they harm a Skolian leader. They know if they do, ISC will retaliate regardless of our internal affairs.”
I knew what he meant Skolian politics were like family upheavals; you might argue within the family, but you tolerated no outside attacks against your kin. “The Allieds don’t want war any more than we do.”
Ragnar glanced from Chad to me, scrutinizing us with his legendary intensity. Finally he said, “Very well. Admiral Barzun, set up the link to their president from here.”
The protocols required when two interstellar leaders spoke to each other were interminable. Different procedures existed for opening a dialogue between the Allied president and the Imperialate’s civilian leader than for the Allied president and Ruby Pharaoh. Chad combined the two procedures, making it implicit that I now held both Imperialate titles. We would see what the Allieds made of that.
They had a new president: Hanna Loughten. It could work in our favor that she had assumed office only a month ago, giving her a lack of experience, but it also could work against us because we knew so little about her. One particularly tricky aspect of protocol involved who appeared first: Loughten or me. We and the Traders had procedures dating back to the Ruby Empire. The person who requested the communication spoke first. However, in a case such as this, where we came with a show of strength, the “request” took on more force. I had no intention of appearing first. It would be tantamount to conceding that the Allieds had the dominant position. From their point of view, we had entered their system uninvited and had no business making demands. We also had fewer ships. So Loughten shouldn’t want to appear first either.
The problem was, you could never tell with the Allieds. They had this penchant for fairness. They preferred timing these things so both leaders appeared simultaneously. It exasperated our protocol officers no end, who insisted on strict adherence to procedure. We usually prevailed because we were the stronger power, but that didn’t faze the Allieds. They did their best to oblige the customs of all peoples. I had long harbored a suspicion they would quietly and courteously take over the universe without the rest of us noticing, busy as we were with all our posturing and metaphorical shield-banging.
Right now, I had no intention of relinquishing advantage. Ragnar and I stayed out of sight while Chad went through lengthy greetings with various Allied officials. They hid their disquiet, but as an empath I had become proficient at associating body language with emotions, and after a century and a half of practice I could interpret the way most people moved down to small nuances.
Our fleet was well out from Earth, between its orbit and that of Mars, and some distance above the ecliptic. We still weren’t admitting we had a new psiberweb, so communications could only go at light speed, with a built-in lag of several minutes. It flustered some of the Allieds. Given that they were probably used to such delays, their disconcerted response hinted at how much we had rattled them. In the past ten years I hadn’t ev
en made any public broadcasts, let alone arrived unannounced in anyone’s star system.
A senior official appeared, a distinguished man of indeterminate age. After a formal greeting, he finally spoke the words we had been waiting for: “Her Honor, President Hanna Loughten.”
The holoscreens went dark. Then a new image formed, a woman with dark hair going silver at the temples. She sat behind a large desk of glossy red-brown wood. The flag of the Allied Worlds hung on a pole behind her, its design simple: blue concentric circles on a white background.
We weren’t sending an image yet, so she appeared first. Hard-edged satisfaction emanated from Ragnar, and Chad gave off relief; they assumed the Allieds had acquiesced to us, acknowledging Skolia as the greater power. I supposed they had, but I didn’t think Loughten really cared. From experience, I knew the Allieds would respect our hierarchal modes of interaction if that was what it took to get to business, but afterward they would go their way with no difference in how they viewed the universe. It could be annoying, especially when they were right.
Chad beckoned to me, then pushed out of his chair. As he moved past me and grasped a line, I slid into the massive seat. Its panels adjusted to my smaller size and plugged in prongs, connecting my mind to Roca’s Pride.
Activate image, I thought.
ACTIVATED, the cruiser rumbled.
I knew when President Loughten saw me. She sat straighter, her shift in position almost undetectable. Then she spoke in Iotic, my language, using the minimalist Skolian form of address: “Pharaoh Dyhianna.”
I responded in kind. “President Loughten.”
“Welcome to the solar system.”
“We appreciate your hospitality.” Stock replies. I knew what I would really want to say if I were in her position: How the hell did you get past our defenses?
Loughten paused. “Your Highness, I am unsure of the proper titles in this situation. Do you prefer your Assembly title or a dynastic address?”
That was tactful—better than asking point blank if I had deposed First Councilor Tikal and stolen his job.
“Pharaoh will do,” I told her. “The position of First Councilor no longer exists.”
“I see.” The tension in those two words spoke volumes.
I waited, keeping my face neutral. How she responded now could make or break our relations with the Allieds. She had to decide whether or not to acknowledge me as head of the Skolian government. Declining to do so would be an implicit statement of support for the Assembly, which meant she had better hope the Assembly defeated my forces. But if she accepted me as the ruler of Skolia, and my side lost, it would also deepen hostilities between her government and ours. I didn’t envy her the decision.
After a delay longer than that due to distance, Loughten said, “The President of the Allied Worlds of Earth acknowledges the Ruby Pharaoh of the Skolian Imperialate.”
Ragnar’s exultation surged from his mind with such force I was surprised he didn’t shout his triumph. Chad’s satisfaction rolled through it. I had to hold myself back from giving the arm-rest a satisfied thump. Loughten had even used the ancient Ruby form of address for a fully invested pharaoh.
I managed to stay calm, outwardly. “The Imperial Dynasty acknowledges the ascension of Hanna Loughten to the office of Allied president.” It didn’t have the same ring as “ascension to the throne,” but it fit Skolian protocol for a leader who had newly assumed her title.
Loughten inclined her head to me, the gesture controlled. I thought she was uneasy, but I wasn’t sure. She guarded her body language well. I wished Eldrin were here to give me his impressions.
“It would be our great honor to have you visit Earth,” Loughten said. “To show you the birthplace of our species.”
We both knew perfectly well that if the Allieds got me on-planet, they wouldn’t let me go. “Your invitation is gracious,” I said. “I regret that I must decline. Certain matters cannot be delayed.” The time had come to do business. “President Loughten, my people appreciate the generous protection that Earth has provided in guarding my family. It means a great deal to us that they were safe during the war. Their return home now will cause great rejoicing. If you will have Web Key Eldrinson, Councilor Roca, Lady Ami, and Prince Kurj-son escorted to us, we will trouble you no further.”
Despite her control, Loughten paled. “I greatly regret that we cannot accommodate your request, Your Highness.”
Request, hell. “Aren’t they here?”
Her strain showed now in her rigid posture. “Yes, certainly. They are our guests in an Allied United Centre.”
I decided to push harder and see what happened. “I would like to speak with Web Key Eldrinson.”
Again her answer took longer than it needed to go from Earth to here. “I am truly, deeply sorry, Your Highness. But I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”
In a deceptively soft voice, I said, “Why not?”
Her answer had great gentleness. “He passed away several months ago.”
As much as I had expected those words, they hit hard. So hard. I bit my cheek to hold back my tears. I couldn’t weep in front of Loughten. Not now. Gods please, not now.
I remembered the last time I had seen Eldrinson, sitting in a starlit chamber with a panoramic view of the stars. It had been just minutes before he left for Earth. Take care, my sister, he told me. I had answered, And you, my brother. We were always arguing about one thing or another, often with gusto, but on that day we had parted without hiding our familial affection.
A tear ran down my cheek. I rubbed it away with my palm, acutely aware of everyone watching.
Loughten spoke with kindness. “Please accept our deepest sympathies.”
“Thank you.” My response came out stiff and formal. I glanced at Jinn Opsister, who floated behind Chad. In a low voice I said, “Please notify Prince Eldrin.”
She nodded and withdrew a short distance. As she spoke into her gauntlet comm, I turned back to Loughten. “Did Web Key Eldrinson pass away on Lyshriol?”
Her body language betrayed shock. She hadn’t expected us to know. After a moment, she said, “Yes. He wanted to go home. Councilor Roca went with him.” She leaned forward, her hands folded on her desk. “However, Lady Roca has since returned to Earth.”
Relief flowed over me; to have come this far and then find out Roca wasn’t here would have been a great blow. From the Allied view, it made sense to split up the Ruby Dynasty, lest we get together and hatch plans the rest of the universe didn’t like, such as, say, deposing the Assembly. I wondered if it had occurred to all these politicians and military leaders, both within and without Skolia, that if they had just left us alone, we might have minded our own business and stayed out of interstellar politics.
I thought of Eldrin. He would want to pay his respects to his father, even if he could only go home in a virtual simulation. “Was Lord Eldrinson buried on his farm?” I asked Loughten.
She shook her head. “His dying wish was that we launch his coffin into orbit around the planet.”
I stared at her. What the blazes? Eldrinson would never ask such a thing. He loathed space. His love had been for the land, especially his farm and the crops he tilled. He had eventually made a truce with the technology Roca had brought into his life, but I could never imagine him asking for a burial in space.
Suddenly I thought of Eldrin’s nightmare about his father in a coffin. Saints almighty, had they buried Eldrinson alive!
Somehow I kept my voice cool. “And my sister allowed this burial?”
Sympathy touched Loughten’s face. “After her husband’s death, Councilor Roca asked that we reconsider. It upset her to think of his body in orbit. We arranged with ISC to have one of your ships pick it up.”
My dismay eased. Eldrinson couldn’t have been alive when they launched that coffin; he would have been in utter terror. Both Eldrin and I had felt the peaceful release of his life. He had gone gently, surrounded by his family. The Allieds had shown compassion i
n letting him return home, but the matter of this strange burial remained.
It hit me like ice. A living man had been in that coffin. Of course. It was a way to slip someone off-planet, gruesome yes, but effective. In my Triad Chair-induced “conversation” with Eldrin, he had said Vyrl needed to heal from a nightmarish sensory deprivation. Had Vyrl been the one in that coffin? He was taller than his father by a good half foot, but with enough planning they might have fooled the Allieds’ sensors.
Only two seconds had passed since Loughten finished speaking. I replied quietly. “The Ruby Dynasty thanks you for the sensitivity your people have shown in this matter.” I paused for effect. “His death comes as a surprise. He had been in good health when he left for Earth.” Let her sweat that one. Regardless of how sensitive they had been, Eldrinson had still died in their custody. “We expect to take up orbit around Earth soon.”
She met my gaze. “We await your arrival.”
So we began the final approach to our lost home.
28
Starfall Dreams
“We believe we’ve located Councilor Roca.” Jinn Opsister set holosheets on the table before us in the Tactics Room. “She’s in Sweden. We’re less certain about Lady Ami and her son, but we think they are there too.”
Ragnar and Chad were also at the table. “What about Rockworth’s three foster children?” Ragnar asked.
“We’ve found no trace of them at all.” Jinn glanced at me. “But we aren’t sure what to look for.”
“I don’t know much,” I admitted. “Just that Jaibriol the Third lived with them.”
“I don’t like it,” Chad said. “When we asked the Allieds, they went into one of their we-have-no-idea modes.”
Ragnar snorted. “That means they know exactly what we’re talking about and they’re scared to death.”
“What about Seth Rockworth?” I asked. “Anything on him?”
“Plenty, ma’am.” Jinn tapped another holosheet. “He’s in custody at a military base on the Atlantic coast of North America.”