Выбрать главу

Now that there was no reason to hide his ancestry, and every reason to display it, Valerian proudly wore a bronze wolf-head medal of the Mengsk family upon his breast.

His mother sat in an automated wheelchair, controlling its movements with an alpha wave reader fitted just behind her right ear. Returning to Umoja had done more to restore his mother's constitution than all the years of drugs and painful chemotherapy. Intramuscular nanostimulators had prevented her muscles from atrophying completely, and it was wonderful to see some of her vitality restored to her. Even though Valerian knew she could not last much longer, he loved that she smiled again now that she was home.

The air was clear and crisp, the umber sky warm and like honey over the distant horizon as the day drew to a close. The scent of the air was heavy, and Valerian took a deep breath, instantly transported back to his boyhood and a lime where he was innocent of the wider scope of the galaxy around him.

"It's good to be home, isn't it?" said his mother, her voice thin, but stronger than it had been in many years. "Back on Umoja, I mean."

Valerian nodded. "Yes, though I still find it hard to think of anywhere as home now."

"I know, honey," said his mother. "And I'm sorry—it was no way to grow up, being shunted from pillar to post like that."

"It was hardly your fault. After all, what choice did we have?"

"I know, but I want you to understand that I wish I could have given you a normal childhood."

" 'A normal childhood'?" said Valerian. "What is that, anyway? Does it even exist?"

"Of course it does. I had a perfectly normal childhood growing up here."

"I guess," said Valerian as they rounded a bend in the path next to a stand of poplars and the river came into view. "And I remember this place fondly—though too much has happened for me to think of it as home anymore."

"That's sad," said Juliana, pointing to an irregular chunk taken out of the otherwise smooth course of the riverbank. "You remember that little cove there?"

Water had since filled the cove, where it gamboled in miniature whirlpools, but Valerian remembered kneeling in the mud with a small shovel and a tray of unearthed treasures.

"Yes," he said with a smile. "I remember. I used to dig there for alien fossils."

"I was so proud of you," said Juliana. "I am proud of you, Valerian. You've grown up into such a wonderful, handsome boy. My heart almost breaks every time I look at you."

"Mother, don't go on!" said Valerian, embarrassed by her praise, but enjoying it nonetheless.

"I mean it," she said, more urgently this time. "I might not have much time left and there are things I need to say to you, my darling boy. And I wanted you to remember something good from your childhood before I say them."

"What is it?" he asked, instantly alert as he sensed finality at the implication of his mother's words.

"You've had to grow up so quickly, and I know that's been hard on you, but you're going to have to grow up some more soon. I'm not going to be around much longer—"

"Quiet, Mother," said Valerian, keeling beside her and taking her hand. "Those doctors don't know what they're talking about. Not one of them has been right about your condition. You've confounded them all and I know you'll outlive every one of us."

"You're so sweet," she said, running a hand along the side of his face, "but we both know that this will get me in the end, no matter how fast I run."

"Please," said Valerian, his voice trembling. "Don't talk like this."

"I have to: I'm sorry," said Juliana, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

"Why?" cried Valerian.

"Because soon your father will be here and I'm not strong enough to stand up to him anymore, if I ever was." This last comment was said bitterly and seemed to give her the strength to continue.

"Your father is a dangerous man," said his mother. "And I don't just mean to his enemies. He uses people, Valerian. He uses them and he chews them up and when he's done with them he spits them out. I wasted my life believing in him, and my heart would break if I thought you were about to become the same kind of man he is. I gave up my dreams for your father, thinking he needed me and that he'd come for me when the time was right, but he never did."

"Why are you saying these things, Mother? I don't need to hear them."

"Yes," she said, squeezing his hand with all her strength. "Yes, you do. You have to be strong enough to resist your father's influence. By all means admire him—he has many admirable qualities—but don't try to be like him, no matter what happens. Be your own man in all things and don't let him maneuver you like one of his chess pieces."

Valerian felt the strength of her purpose pouring from her with every word, as though she were channeling every last bit of her energy into making sure he understood her. He could understand the cause of her bitterness toward his father, but did she truly appreciate the grand designs his father had set in motion, and the sacrifices necessary to realize them?

Valerian looked into his mother's sunken eyes, seeing the pain and sorrow that filled them, and suddenly thought that maybe she understood the price of his father's ambition all too well...

"Do you understand me?" she said urgently. "Please tell me you understand."

"I understand," said Valerian, though in truth he did not. "I do. Father may be many things, but he wouldn't sacrifice his own son to further his ambitions."

"I hope you're right, Val," she said, opening her arms and taking him into her embrace. "I really hope you're right."

They sat in silence for many minutes, holding on to one another and letting cathartic tears fall without inhibition. Valerian took a breath, then released his mother's skeletal frame.

“I love you, Valerian," she said. “My wonderful, handsome boy. You are the best thing I have done with my life."

Valerian tried to answer her, but his throat was too choked to speak, his mind too overwhelmed at the thought of losing his mother.

He wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and dabbed away the last tears with the heel of his palm. This was not the way of a Mengsk, he thought. A Mengsk was stronger than this, his heart a fortress...

Valerian turned as he heard the crunch of gravel on the path behind him, recognizing the diffident tread of Charles Whittler, who remained his constant companion still. Accompanying Whittler was Valerian's grandfather, Ailin Pasteur.

"What is it, Charles?" asked Valerian.

"I'm sorry to intrude, sir, but we've just received confirmation from General Duke."

"And?" said Valerian when Whittler did not continue.

"He wasn't too happy about keeping his ships beyond the outer shipping markers. He demanded to bring his ships into Umoja’s orbit before allowing the emperor to descend to the planet's surface."

"And I told him to shove his demands up his ass." said Ailin Pasteur.

Valerian was shocked al his grandfather's outburst, knowing he detested expletives as a sign of poor upbringing and a lack of vocabulary.

"I'll bet that went down well with Duke," said Valerian.

He'd never met Edmund Duke, but his grandfather had told him of his reputation and how he'd defected to the Sons of Korhal when his ship crashed amid a ravenous zerg swarm.

Valerian had taken an instant dislike to him, recalling the teachings of Master Miyamoto and his notions of honor. As antiquated as such beliefs might be now, they still had a hold on Valerian's soul.

"I don't care how it went down," continued his grandfather. "The Ruling Council is concerned at the direction Arcturus is taking his Terran Dominion. To say we're unhappy at the idea of a fleet of Dominion warships parked in orbit around Umoja is an understatement."