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The Emperor felt his breath rush out of him.

“Sire,” she want on, “I’m sorry if I’m speaking impolitely or stupidly. It’s just that I know we can do this thing, do it successfully, and you’re the only one who can make it happen.”

But he was barely listening. “Come with me,” he said, reaching out to grasp her slim wrists and raising her to her feet. “It’s time for the evening meal. I want you to meet my son.”

Javas put on his usual amused smile when the Emperor introduced Adela. Will nothing ever reach under his everlasting façade of polite boredom? Rihana, at least, was properly furious. He could see the anger in her face. A virtual barbarian from some frontier planet. Daughter of a petty noble. Practically a commoner. Dining with them!

“Such a young child to have such grandiose schemes,” the Princess said when she realized who Adela was.

“Surely,” said the Emperor, “you had grandiose schemes of your own when you were young, Rihana. Of course, they involved lineages and marriages rather than astrophysics, didn’t they?”

None of them smiled.

Emperor Nicholas had ordered dinner out on the terrace, under Corinth’s glowing night sky. Rihana, who was responsible for household affairs, always had sumptuous meals spread for them: the best meats and fowl and fruits of a dozen prime worlds. Adela looked bewildered by the array placed in front of her by the servants. Such riches were obviously new to her. The Emperor ate sparingly and watched them all.

Inevitably the conversation returned to Adela’s plan to save Earth’s Sun. And Adela, subdued and timid at first, slowly turned lioness once again. She met Rihana’s scorn with coldly furious logic. She countered Javas’ skepticism with:

“Of course, since it will take more than a century before the theories behind the project can be proven, you will probably be the Emperor who is remembered by all the human race as the one who saved the Earth.”

Javas’ eyes widened slightly. It hit home, the Emperor noticed. For once something affected the boy. This young woman should be kept at the palace.

But Rihana snapped, “Why should the Crown Prince care about saving Earth? His brother was murdered by an Earthman.”

The Emperor felt his blood turn to ice.

Adela looked panic-stricken. She turned to the Emperor, wide-eyed, open-mouthed.

“My eldest son died on Earth. My second son was killed putting down a rebellion on a frontier world, many years ago. My third son died of a viral infection that some have attempted to convince me”—he stared at Rihana—“was assassination. Death is a constant companion in every royal house.”

“Three sons…” Adela seemed ready to burst into tears.

“I have not punished Earth, nor that frontier world, nor sought to find a possible assassin,” the Emperor went on icily. “My only hope is that my last remaining son will make a good Emperor, despite his… handicaps.”

Javas turned very deliberately in his chair to stare out at the dark forest. He seemed irked by the antagonism between his wife and his father. Rihana glowered like molten steel.

The dinner ended in dismal, bitter silence. The Emperor sent them all away to their rooms while he remained on the terrace and stared hard at the gleaming lights in the heavens that crowded out the darkness.

He closed his eyes and summoned a computer-assisted image of Earth’s Sun. He saw it coalesce from a hazy cloud of cold gas and dust, saw it turn into a star and spawn planets. Saw it beaming out energy that allowed life to grow and flourish on one of those planets. And then saw it age, blemish, erupt, swell and finally collapse into a dark cinder.

Just as I will, thought the Emperor. The Sun and I have both reached the age where a bit of rejuvenation is needed. Otherwise… death.

He opened his eyes and looked down at his veined, fleshless, knobby hands. How different from hers! How young and vital she is.

With a touch on one of the control studs set into the arm of his powerchair, he headed for his bedroom.

I cannot be rejuvenated. It is wrong even to desire it. But the Sun? Would it be wrong to try? Is it proper for puny men to tamper with the destinies of the stars themselves?

Once in his tower-top bedroom he called for her. Adela came to him quickly, without delay or question. She wore a simple knee-length gown tied loosely at the waist. It hung limply over her childlike figure.

“You sent for me, Sire.” It was not a question but a statement. The Emperor knew her meaning: I will do what you ask, but in return I expect you to give me what I desire.

He was already reclining in the soft embrace of his bed. The texture of the monolayer surface felt soft and protective. The warmth of the water beneath it eased his tired body.

“Come here, child. Come and talk to me. I hardly ever sleep anymore; it gives my doctors something to worry about. Come and sit beside me and tell me all about yourself… the parts of your life story that are not on file in the computers.”

She sat on the edge of the huge bed, and its nearly living surface barley dimpled under her spare body.

“What would you like to know?” she asked.

“I have never had a daughter,” the Emperor said. “What was your childhood like? How did you become the woman you are?”

She began to tell him. Living underground in the mining settlements on Gris. Seeing sunlight only when the planet was far enough from its too-bright star to let humans walk the surface safely. Playing in the tunnels. Sent by her parents to other worlds for schooling. The realization that her beauty was not physical. The few lovers she had known. The astronomer who had championed her cause to the Emperor at that meeting nearly fifty years ago. Their brief marriage. Its breakup when he realized that being married to her kept him from advancing in the hierarchy.

“You have known pain, too,” the Emperor said.

“It’s not an Imperial prerogative,” she answered softly. “Everyone who lives knows pain.”

By now the sky was milky white with the approach of dawn. The Emperor smiled at her.

“Before breakfast everyone in the palace will know that you spent the night with me. I’m afraid I have ruined your reputation.”

She smiled back. “Or perhaps made it.”

He reached out and took her by the shoulders. Holding her at arm’s length, he searched her face with a long, sad, almost fatherly look.

“It would not be a kindness to grant your request. If I allow you to pursue this dream of yours, have you any idea of the enemies it would make for you? Your life would be so cruel, so filled with envy and hatred.”

“I know that,” Adela said evenly. “I’ve known that from the beginning.”

“And you are not afraid?”

“Of course I’m afraid! But I won’t turn away from what I must do. Not because of fear. Not because of envy or hatred or any other reason.”

“Not even for love?”

He felt her body stiffen. “No,” she said. “Not even for love.”

The Emperor let his hands drop away from her and called out to the computer, “Connect me with Prince Javas, Academician Bomeer and Commander Fain.”

“At once, Sire.”

Their holographic images quickly appeared on separate segments of the farthest wall of the bedroom. Bomeer, halfway around the planet in late afternoon, was at his ornate desk. Fain appeared to be on the bridge of a warship in orbit around the planet. Javas, of course, was still in bed. It was not Rihana who lay next to him.