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 into her hands.