To Save the Sun

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.”

Bomeer was silent for several moments, and seemed to wrestle with his guilty burden before he was able to continue.

“However,” he went on, “we’ve only proven that worm-hole travel occurred. It will be years before we can analyze the mechanics of how it works, even longer before we can put what we’ve learned to practical use. If ever.” He paused, then looked deep into her face. “I have made my official recommendation to the Academy that the investigation of this phenomenon be made their top priority. I wanted you to know this before you went into cryosleep.”

“I appreciate that, Academician…” Adela started to say, but was cut off when Bomeer held up his hand.

“Please, let me finish,” he said softly under his breath, the sound reminding her more of a weary sigh. “I have fought the natural scientific growth of the Empire for so long that I can remember little else. But I fought the wrong battle. In attempting to keep the Empire from moving too quickly, to keep scientific development on what I thought was a safe and steady course, I succeeded only in battling myself.” He looked at her once more, relief in his eyes at having unloaded this personal burden. The smile returned to his lips as he added, “I am very tired, and I am through fighting.”

“Fighting against one’s self is the most wearying fight of all.”

“Besides”—Bomeer looked at her, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes—“I’ve seen the changes that instantaneous tachyon communications have brought to the Empire, and I must admit that the changes have been good ones. But imagine: to travel from one point in the Empire to another in the blink of an eye! I am forced to confess that the siren song of faster-than-light travel has captured me. Research. Discovery. The acquisition of knowledge. These are the things that first attracted me to science, and these are the things that will guide the Empire in the centuries to come as the wormhole is studied. Somewhere along the way I lost those things, but I have them back now—thanks to you—and I want to be a part of it all again. To contribute to the future, instead of merely maintaining the present.”

Again, Adela had trouble finding the right words to fit this surprising situation. She was about to simply thank him again, but was stopped by another series of insistent raps on the office door. She smiled politely at Bomeer in way of apology and turned almost automatically to the darkened terminal before remembering that it was useless.

“Excuse me a moment.” The door slid aside before she reached it and Stase immediately stepped inside, obviously agitated. There was someone standing behind him, but from her viewing angle she couldn’t make out who it was.

“Dr. Montgarde, I—”

“That won’t be necessary,” barked the man as he pushed Stase authoritatively aside. “I will speak with Dr. Montgarde directly.” Her secretary looked about ready to grab him and toss him forcibly out of the office, but Adela shook her head, dismissing him. Once Stase stood back from the doorway the uninvited guest allowed a broad, insincere smile to spread across his features, and his demeanor changed instantly as he dipped his head to her in just the slightest suggestion of a bow. She had seen him before, years earlier, and recognized his plastic smile almost immediately.

Oh, not now. I don’t need this now. “Poser, isn’t it?” Adela demanded angrily as she strode the rest of the way to the door.

He bowed slightly. “Dr. Montgarde, you honor me and my House by remembering—”

“Shut up.” She started past Poser for the reception area, but stopped when the man, utterly nonplused by Adela’s rebuke, entered her office and approached Bomeer.

“Good day, Academician.” Again, a short formal bow. “My Mistress will speak to the Doctor alone.”

Bomeer had barely begun to rise from his chair when Adela grabbed Poser’s arm with a grip that surprised even her and spun him around. “I’ll decide who stays and who doesn’t.” She flung his arm aside and enjoyed the sight of what was probably the first genuine expression of emotion the man’s face had revealed in years: stunned shock. “Now, if your Mistress wishes to speak to me, then she had better be quick about it. I plan to leave this office in five minutes.”

He made a feeble attempt to recover his composure as he almost scurried from the room into the reception area. Bomeer remained standing, but had difficulty hiding his amusement.

Poser returned almost immediately, his all-purpose smile conspicuously absent. If his Mistress had been upset by the information that she wouldn’t be speaking to Adela alone, he gave no indication of it. “Mistress Rihana Valtane,” he said simply, then quickly stood aside for her to enter.

The former Princess had changed little, it seemed, since the last time they had spoken more than four decades earlier. Her glowing copper hair, her poise and grandeur, the way she carried herself with absolute authority and, above all, her youthful beauty were all exactly as Adela had remembered them. Her outfit gave the appearance of being spun from molten gemstones, and was tailored in such a manner as to seem alive when she moved, if not an actual living part of her. The ensemble was completed with her signature sapphire earrings and necklace, the precious metal of their settings matching the bracelets on each of her wrists.

Adela said nothing, but led the woman into the room as Poser exited and closed the door behind him.

Bomeer approached a few steps and stood straighter when she neared, bowing deeply. “Mistress Valtane,” he said respectfully, “it is good to see you once again.”

Rihana walked past him as though he wasn’t there, and Adela understood now why she’d raised no objection to Bomeer’s staying in the room when she called: The woman had absolutely no intention of acknowledging the academician’s presence. She instead went directly to one of the two remaining chairs before the desk and sat, waiting for Adela to take her own seat behind the desk. Bomeer remained on his feet about halfway to the door.

Adela nodded her head curtly in a motion that was not quite a show of respect before taking her own chair. “It’s been a long time, Mistress, but not long enough.” She made sure her voice carried with it as much scorn and sarcasm as she could summon up, then added bluntly, “What do you want?”

“I want nothing but to give you a parting message. Something to think about while you sleep.”

“And what would that be?”

The former Princess smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, settling back into the chair. “I wanted to remind you of the cost of your dream. I know how long you plan to remain in cryosleep. There will be little left of what you remember when you wake up. Javas will be long dead, as will most of your friends and associates.”

“You’ve told me this before. I’ve not forgotten.”

“I’m glad to see that you have a good memory, but you are not the only one. I have a good memory, too.” Rihana crossed her long legs and smoothed the fabric of her gown. When she spoke again her smile had vanished. “I understand that you have become very close to your Eric. Well, remember this while you sleep, Adela: He murdered my son. I do not plan to forget.”

Adela felt a chill sweep over her at the thought of Rihana hurting Eric. She rose shakily, and found it necessary to lean on the desk for support. “You’ll do nothing to hurt my son,” she said forcefully, her words feeling like jagged ice in her throat. “I’ll see to it myself.”

Adela had expected Rihana to threaten the power of House Valtane against her, but when the woman gazed up at her over the bare desktop she did the one thing Adela never expected. She laughed. Adela shook her head in disgust at whatever it was in her words that had so amused Rihana.

“I swear it, Mistress,” she spat, her sudden fear replaced now with unbridled anger. “If I have to forgo cryosleep entirely, you’ll not get close to my son!”

Rihana’s laughter faded, and she made a pretense of wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “Come now, Doctor; do you really think that I would have any interest in your precious offspring? Eric was but the tool mat took my son’s life, a weapon wielded by someone else who owes me a debt. Besides,” she shrugged, and again smoothed a fold in her gown, “I am not so foolish as to have frozen but a single fertilized ovum. My only mistake was in my timing; I’ll do better next time.”

“Not with my family, you won’t.” Adela was appalled at Rihana’s complete lack of emotion regarding Reid’s death, and at how the woman apparently thought of him only as a means to an end.

“Really, you value yourself and your young Prince much too highly. No, it is Javas and what he’s stolen from me that I want.” Rihana stood, her bracelets jingling musically at the movement. And as she continued, Adela became aware that anger made itself plain in her voice only when she spoke of Javas. “He has taken me from that which is rightfully mine—my position in the Empire, guaranteed me by my birthright. I mean to have it back!”

Rihana stood ramrod straight and smiled again, as if the anger and emotion she’d displayed only moments before were but parts of an elaborate act. When she spoke again, her composure had returned. “In any event, Doctor, feel free to sleep; preserve yourself for your project to save the world. But understand that I mean to have what is mine, and that I’ll permit nothing to stand between me and that goal. Not Javas. Not your project. Nothing. And understand something else…” She stopped, her icy blue eyes piercing Adela’s soul. “Once I regain what has been taken from me, you may not recognize the world into which you’ll awake. I’ll see to it.”

“Will you?” Bomeer, until now remaining quietly in the background, came forward. “And you think that those loyal to Javas and to the Hundred Worlds will merely stand aside while you attempt to regain this—what did you call it?—birthright?” He stood resolutely only a meter from her, his chin lifted and his hands clasped behind him defiantly.

She was taller than he, taller than many men, and she looked down on him in more ways than one. Her eyes narrowed disapprovingly and she said, her words dripping with sarcasm, “Do I know you?” Without waiting for an answer she turned for the door. Poser snapped nervously to attention and fumbled with the door controls until finally getting it open and jumping out of Rihana’s way just in time for her to clear the door frame, then followed her out like an obedient dog.

Again, Bomeer and Adela were alone in the barren office, surrounded by an uncomfortable silence that seemed to last for several minutes. “I’ve not looked forward to going into cryosleep this time,” she admitted at last. “I’ve always known that saying good-bye to everything close to me would be hard.” Adela came around the desk, leaned heavily against the front of it as she faced the academician. “But I’ve never been afraid to go into the tank. Until now.”

“Don’t be,” Bomeer replied. He held out his hand, escorting her to the door. “A little while ago I said I was tired of fighting, and I meant it. But the more I consider what I have just seen and heard, the more I realize that there is still a fight to be joined. Somehow, I have a feeling that fighting for a worthy cause for a change will not be nearly so wearying.” At the door, he stopped and faced her, taking both her hands in his. His hands were warm, not the cold unfeeling hands she had always imagined of the academician.

“Don’t worry for Javas,” he said firmly. “He is much stronger than she believes, and he has more support on his side than Rihana can ever imagine.”

“And now he has you on his side,” Adela added.

Bomeer smiled. “Yes, I suppose he does at that.” He thumbed the door open, then, “Sleep well, Doctor.”

The academician turned abruptly and disappeared down the corridor, leaving Adela alone in the quiet, empty office.

Earth

Adela sat on a limestone outcropping on the grounds of Woodsgate and watched the receding thunderheads of storm clouds as they drifted away to the southeast. It was raining heavily beneath the black sky to the southeast, and occasional lightning punctuated by softly rolling thunder several seconds later told her how far away the storm was. The clouds had threatened when they’d passed overhead an hour earlier, but no thunderstorm had come. Now, as the sky above her cleared, the sunshine beamed down once more.

She wore Earth clothing of soft denim jeans and a white linen blouse, with a leather vest and riding boots. She inhaled deeply of the clean afternoon air. The weather front associated with the passing thunderstorms had brought with it cooler, less humid air, and she reveled in what had turned out to be a perfect early summer day.

She had visited the family estate several times during the eight years following the test, and each visit here made her long to return. Adela had always realized the planet’s importance and had studied its people and geography for years, but it wasn’t until she had completed her work, until she had lived for more than a month on Earth, that she found that she had come to love it as intimately as she did her own Gris.

The eight years had been wonderful. Every moment she wasn’t involved in overseeing the project team and analyzing the test data she had spent with Javas; and with Eric upon his return. But this part of the project was over, and Javas had implemented security measures to ensure that Eric would be protected. She was further comforted by the fact that Eric had selected Billy Woorunmarra as his First Officer. Whether the choice had been Eric’s idea—the two had become fast friends shortly after Billy returned from Pallatin—or had been Javas’ doing, she had no way of knowing. But now that Eric had returned safely to his ship…

There was a scrabbling noise farther down the outcropping, the heavy sound of boots on rock, and she turned to see Javas approaching. He, too, was casually attired in Earth garb and looked more like a plantation owner than the most powerful man in the Empire. Adela smiled as he walked the length of the outcropping. He was older, but he was so vibrant and alive that their age difference mattered little to either of them. Javas reached her at last and sat at her side on the bare rock, swinging his long legs over the edge of the outcropping.

“It’s turned into a beautiful day,” he said, taking her tiny hand in his. He squeezed her hand gently, three times, in a gesture that said a silent “I love you.”

Adela gazed up into the sky. “I want it to be a day like this when I wake up.”

Javas didn’t reply, but she knew that whatever request she made on this, their last day together, would not be refused. Her theories had been validated—at a terrible cost—and all that remained now was to select the feeder star from a long list of candidates and to construct the actual hardware for the full-scale version of what was needed to save the Sun. It would take nearly two centuries to complete the task, two centuries of routine work that did not require her presence, but she knew that on the day she awoke from cryosleep, the Sun would be shining just as it was now.

She sighed and slid from the outcropping to stand before him, then encircled him with her arms and hugged him tightly. It was time, past time; the medical attendent had been waiting in the special room set up for her in the House. Adela had needed some last moments of solitude and Javas had given her those moments, and more, before coming to find her.

“I don’t want to leave you again,” she said, still lost in his strong embrace.

“I know; and I don’t want to lose you.” He slid from the outcropping and took both her hands in his. “Say the word and I’ll arrange for someone else to take your place: Dr. Rice or any one of your team you feel is competent. Just ask it.”

Adela shook her head. They both knew better.

They walked silently, hand in hand, back to the House, passing through deserted halls and empty rooms on their way to the new cryosleep chamber. The entire staff had been dismissed. Other than the guardsmen still at their posts, only Master McLaren remained in the House. He had met them at the door and now escorted them personally to the chamber, saying nothing. He smiled once, weakly, when they’d reached the massive oak doors masking the chamber and took position outside once the doors had closed.

She had expected the stark white walls common to cryosleep chambers, but her heart flew when she entered. Javas had ordered that the holographic display of a forest be implemented in the room, giving it a sense of quiet serenity.

“My father often found peace here,” Javas said, and Adela knew that he was speaking of the forest scene and not the House itself. “And I’ve been here a great deal myself in recent years. I’ve had the display edited.” He looked around him and, with a sweep of his arm, indicated the clearing that allowed the sunlight to come streaming down from above. There were enormous white clouds floating above their heads, and the Sun would occasionally go behind one before reappearing brightly a few seconds later. “I thought you might like it.”

She looked around her. The medical attendant stood dutifully to one side, waiting to prepare her for her long sleep. She knew there should be a lot of equipment here: monitoring devices, room systems, additional furniture… and the coffin-like cryosleep tank itself. But the only unnatural object in the idyllic surroundings was a low bed, its Earth-made flannel sheets drawn back for her. The other trappings of the chamber were surely here, but were—for now—being masked out of sight by the hologram.

Javas followed her to the bed, and she fell into his embrace one last time before sitting. She nodded once at the attendant.

“It’s time,” she whispered.

He brought her a glass, and Adela quickly downed the fruit-flavored drink. Aided by the juice she would fall asleep naturally. Once asleep, she knew, the holograph would be switched off. Her clothing would be removed, replaced with the cryosleep gown and stockings, and she would be put into the tank.

And Javas would leave and return to the day-to-day business of running the Empire of the Hundred Worlds, preparing everything that would greet her on her awakening two centuries from now. He would not be there when she awoke, she knew; would not witness the project brought to a successful conclusion. But he would be remembered, as she had told him that night on Corinth, as the man responsible for saving the Sun. It seemed so long ago, that dinner, and she tried to recall when it had taken place but her mind was becoming fuzzy.

She yawned sleepily, then stifled a giggle as Javas sat on the edge of the bed. She was lying on the bed now, she realized, but didn’t remember having done it. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shhhhhh.” He touched her lips lightly with his fingertip, just as he had in a dream nearly a decade earlier. “It doesn’t matter.” She closed her eyes and tried to remember the dream she’d had when coming out of cryosleep on the Levant at the conclusion of her trip home from Pallatin, and seemed to recall that she’d been upset in it, but remembered nothing more.

She opened her eyes, blinking sleepily, and realized that they were alone now; the attendant had apparently left the room.

“I do love you,” Javas whispered, and kissed her softly. He had never said the words aloud before, and as Adela looked up into his face she saw that his eyes glistened. Behind him, a cloud passed lazily in front of the Sun and she felt a smile come to her lips.

The cloud moved away and Adela closed her eyes tightly at the sudden brightness. She felt light, disconnected, as if floating free of the bed.

With the image of the Sun still in her mind, Javas’ face silhouetted against its brilliance, she let go finally, allowing the deep peace of cryosleep to fall gently over her.