“You want to say so many things. You want to put so many years into so short a time.” He chuckled again, then smiled in admission. “Believe me, Mother; I’m fighting the urge to do exactly the same thing.” He paused, lowering his gaze to the floor. “I have so much to tell you about my life and my goals, my dreams. And I want to hear everything about yours. I want you to tell me of Pallatin—not what I’ve already read in the reports and data files, but what it was like and what you felt and what you thought when you were there. I want to hear of Gris and my family. And I want you to tell me of your project and of what my role will be someday. We have so much to say to each other—”
Adela touched a finger to his lips to silence him, and said, “And so much to be to one another.”
They embraced, and as they did Adela tried to push away the thought that she never had the opportunity to hold him as an infant, to hug him as a child. But with the regret she felt for the years and experiences missed, she also felt comfort in the knowledge of what a fine son Javas had raised, and what an excellent Emperor he would one day make.
Above all else, Eric was right: There really was no need to try to force a lifetime’s memories into this brief moment. There was a lot of work to do before Rice and the scientific team returned from the test site, bringing this phase of the project to a close. It would be several years before she had to go into cryosleep.
And for once, perhaps for the first time in her life, she knew that there really was time to get to know someone.
EPILOGUE
Luna
Adela’s office was almost bare.
Most of the furniture, the pictures and decorations she’d personally selected, all of the little touches she’d added to reflect her own tastes and make the working environment as pleasant as possible were gone now, stored away. The terminal was silent, its screen dark. The desk had been cleared and its drawers emptied, their few remaining contents filling the small box at her feet, and she sat in a room as devoid of emotion and personality as a vacant apartment.
She held a small figurine, hand-carved from Grisian rockwood, and fidgeted with it as she waited for the academician to arrive. Having already made all of her good-byes to friends and staff, the meeting with Bomeer would mark the end of her stay on Luna. As she turned the object over in her hands it tapped occasionally against the surface of the bare desktop, the sound echoing hollowly in the room.
There was another sound, this one unfamiliar and intrusive, and it took a moment for Adela to realize that someone was knocking at the office door.
“Coming,” she said, even as she rose from the desk and approached the door. She thumbed the control in the door’s frame and it slid open, revealing her secretary and Academician Bomeer standing outside in the reception area. Her terminal now disconnected and silent on her desk, it was her secretary who had knocked. “Thank you, Stase. Academician, please come in.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” he said politely, and entered, allowing her to conduct him to one of the room’s remaining chairs.
He waited until she seated herself behind the desk before sitting. “And thank you for agreeing to see me.”
Adela nodded, studying the academician, fairly shocked at his appearance. Adela had consulted with him at length in realtime links immediately following the test, but during the lengthy voyage back to Luna he had spent the trip in virtual seclusion. He had been back on Luna for six months, but she had not met with him personally during the entire time since his return, confining whatever discussions they had had to recorded messages and electronic communications.
He had aged more than she might have expected, and she guessed that he was years past due for a rejuvenation. This was not the same Bomeer she had met on Corinth nearly a century earlier. His hair, always an unruly mop, was longer, grayer now and combed straight back over his head. He wore the trademark academician’s tunic, as he always had, but the outfit seemed less fastidiously tailored, more comfortable. And he seemed to smile more easily as he spoke than she remembered, or maybe it was the slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth that made it seem so.
“I see that you’ve just about closed up shop,” he said with the air of a man at peace with himself. “May I ask when you’ll be going into cryosleep?”
“You’re right,” she replied, returning his smile. “I am just about finished here. My appointment with you is my last bit of official business before I go down to Earth.”
“You’ll be staying at Woodsgate?”
“Yes. It’ll be the closest thing I’ve had to a vacation since…” She stopped, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t had anything even approximating a vacation in recent memory.
Bomeer chuckled softly. “I think I understand the feeling.”
“Anyway, to answer your question, I’ll be going into the tank in about a month.”
“I see.” He seemed to hesitate, unsure of himself for the first time since he’d entered. There were several data sticks in the breast pocket of his tunic; two had brightly colored rings near the pocket clips and he pulled them out. “Please accept these as a token of my esteem.”
She took them, noting the color coding.
“The red one is a full accounting of everything that occurred at the test site,” he said. “I have checked all the figures and have compared the results with your own findings to verify your original equations. Further, I have extrapolated the necessary projections as to the proper course of the project—I realize that most of this will duplicate what you’ve done in the years since the test, but this is meant to confirm your theories. I’ve included with it my personal endorsement, and recommendations for the Imperial Council of Academicians.”
Adela was almost speechless. “Thank you, Academician,” was the best she could manage.
“The other, coded blue, contains our full investigation into the anomaly of the seventh flare on the scan recording provided by the Sarpan scientist working with Dr. Rice.”
“Oh?” Adela had reviewed some of the earlier findings sent to her by Rice while the Port of Kowloon was still in transit. While her work setting up the next phase of the project had occupied most of her time since she’d returned from Pallatin, the possibilities surrounding the mystery of the seventh flare had intrigued her and she wished there had been more time to look into it. “Have any conclusions been reached?”
Again, Bomeer smiled. Not the arrogant, I’m-better-than-you smile she had frequently associated with him, but something pleasant, genuine.
“It is the missing Sarpan generator ship. I’ve personally examined Rice’s work and have confirmed his findings. There is no doubt that the ship was drawn through the worm-hole, instantly crossing a distance of nearly a million kilometers, before it was destroyed along with the other ships in the flare-up.”
“That’s… incredible.”
“Discovery leads to discovery,” Bomeer said. “The theories that have proven to be valid for the project—your theories, Doctor—are directly responsible for yet another development, one of immense importance to the Hundred Worlds.”
Adela felt her excitement blossom, then just as quickly tempered her feelings of elation. “But the cost! More than three hundred died to learn this—”
“Their deaths were not your fault. You will be remembered as the person who made one of the greatest contributions to science; I will be remembered for the tragedy that resulted. This is a fact that will be with me for the remainder of my life.”