“I can’t answer that, Sire.” Fain sat rigidly in his chair, not quite at attention, and returned the new Emperor’s gaze. There was strength in those eyes, Javas realized, but pain and frustration lay behind them as well.
“Nor can I,” Bomeer added softly. He ran a hand absently through thick brown hair that was more unruly than usual. “Sire, no one could have detected the extent of the threat your father’s—’caretaker’ presented to his health. No one.” He let his gaze fall to the floor as he chose his words, then regarded Javas seriously, but carefully. “Sire, I served your father all my life, and spoke candidly to him of my feelings in all things—even when my feelings went against his, as they did concerning this project. It is true that the bluntness of my remarks angered him on occasion, but my advice was always accepted at face value. May I be so bold as to speak bluntly now?”
Fain turned slightly in his chair, an eyebrow arched almost imperceptibly.
“If I’ve learned nothing else from my father, it was to seek—and carefully consider—the counsel of others. Speak freely.”
Bomeer cleared his throat softly, and without further hesitation said, “Sire, you are blaming yourself for your father’s death.”
“Is that so, Academician?” Javas heard the anger rising in his voice. “And how about you, Commander? Do you concur?”
Fain’s answer was instantaneous. “I do.” He paused then, as if taking further measure of his new Emperor before continuing. “And if I, too, may speak candidly, Sire?”
Javas nodded.
“It is my considered opinion that this preoccupation with your own possible guilt in this matter can serve only to weaken your resolve in achieving your father’s goals.”
Javas opened his mouth to refute the statement, but realized that the man was right and instead shook his head slowly in resignation, allowing his anger to drain slowly away. Looking first to one, then the other, he saw that each seemed as tired as he himself felt, and he was certain that a glance into a mirror would show the same dark circles under his eyes that he saw under those of his companions.
He pushed away from the desk and crossed silently to the viewscreen on the opposite wall. Arms folded across his chest, he stared idly at the graphic representation of the Pallatin system Fain had been discussing.
They’re both right, he thought, still standing before the screen. I am blaming myself. He sighed heavily and returned to the desk.
“Thank you for your honesty,” said the Emperor of the Hundred Worlds, nodding to each of them in turn. “Commander, when can you have a ship crewed and ready to depart for Pallatin?”
They lay next to each other, legs still entangled in the satin sheets of the huge bed, and stared tranquilly at the branches of the trees swaying gently above them. From time to time the rustling boughs parted enough to see the sky, revealing a field of stars as unfamiliar to Javas as those seen from Luna. He propped himself up on an elbow and smiled at the way the holographic forest around them was augmented by the scent of leaves and flowers, and how the singing of a night bird in the distance seemed to call forth the twin moons now rising brightly through a clearing of thin saplings. He watched her as she lay, taking in the way her hair cascaded over her pale shoulders, the rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing slowed. Her face was turned to watch the rising of the moons, and he couldn’t read the expression there. Their lovemaking had been passionate, but preoccupied in the knowledge that she was leaving.
Despite the impression of openness suggested by the holographic forest, the room had grown warm, and as Javas stroked the smooth flatness of Adela’s stomach with his left hand, his fingertips glided softly over a thin sheen of perspiration. He furrowed his brow in concentration and silently ordered the temperature lowered a few degrees. An extra moment of will as he concentrated gave rise to a whisper of air that enveloped the bed chamber like a breeze, seeming more a natural part of the “forest” than that of the room’s cooling system. Although Javas was still unaccustomed to the integrator, and was still learning to use it with the effortless ease his father had shown, he was already beginning to appreciate some of the finer opportunities it presented.
Adela’s breathing had slowed to normal and was now almost inaudible. She took his hand in both of hers and brought it to her lips as she turned to him amid the jumble of sheets. She pulled Javas to her and embraced him in a long, warm kiss. He was about to return the kiss, but she pulled away and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Without a word, she left his side, crossing to a small settee marking the edge of the room and stood, her back to him, silhouetted against the moons as she admired the vista around them.
“Thank you,” she said tenderly, “for the vision of home. I’ve missed it so.”
“I had it programmed some time ago,” he replied, still leaning on his elbow. “It was to be a gift.” She’s so tiny, he thought, watching the moonlight shining through the moving trees play across the gentle curves of her body. “Although I’d not intended it as a going-away gift.”
It made sense, of course, for her to leave. If anyone could convince the Pallatins to the necessity of their cooperation, it was she. Hadn’t she, after all, convinced him? If the ship Fain was sending ultimately had to use force to bring the Joint Dominion into line, it wouldn’t be for lack of her persuasive talents. Then there was the time factor. They both had come to terms with the fact that she would need to follow this project through to its conclusion, requiring either long periods of cryosleep or travel at near-relativistic speeds or, more likely, both. The round trip would take forty years, in realtime, while she would age only a few.
A bird flew past so close she started for a moment, then giggled in the realization of how silly it must have appeared to be so completely fooled by something that wasn’t even there. Javas smiled. I love all the childlike, joyously simple things about you, he thought silently as her gentle laughter reached his ears. I’m going to miss them. The thought reminded him of another, more important reason why he hadn’t fought her decision to go: her personal safety. Until he’d managed to learn the truth surrounding his father’s death, he preferred that she be somewhere else for now.
There was a soft chiming, so faint that it might have gone unnoticed but for its intrusion in the peaceful setting all around them.
“Acknowledged.” The chiming stopped. Javas pulled a robe around him, then went to Adela, who had not moved from her spot near the settee. Standing behind her, he encircled her in this strong arms and kissed her once on the neck.
“It’s time, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
He followed Adela as she wordlessly retrieved a light knee-length wraparound from the tangled covers at the foot of Javas’ bed and slipped it on, smoothing it down with the palms of her hands before cinching it around her narrow waist.
“I have to go.”
Javas nodded and, after taking one last look around at the serene Grisian forest, addressed the room system. “Cancel and store display.” The scene instantly dissolved and was replaced by his bed chamber.
He wanted to hold her, ask—no, command—her to stay, but knew better than to try. Instead, he took her upturned face in his hands and kissed her once.
“Good-bye,” he said simply.
Adela smiled and, reaching up to his face, played smooth fingertips over the stubble on his cheek. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, then turned and quietly let herself out of his bed chamber.