Skyfall (23 page)

He gazed into the empty cradle and a tear ran down his face.

Sunlight filtered through the polarized wall of glass behind Kurj’s desk. Sprawled in his chair, intent on the holos above his desk, he lost track of time.

A rustle interrupted his concentration. Looking up, he saw Roca in the doorway. His inner eyelids retracted, taking away the gold sheen they laid over his sight. It had been three weeks since he had found her on Skyfall, but he still felt that deep surge of relief each time he saw her.

“My greetings,” he said.

She nodded stiffly. “Teller said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes. Please, sit down.” He motioned at the most comfortable chair in the office.

She crossed the room warily and settled into the chair. He could tell she was trying to keep her expression impassive, but it had already dissolved into concern. She probably didn’t even realize it. He wished she didn’t look so lovely sitting there, golden and vulnerable.

“You look exhausted,” she said. “You need to sleep.”

He sat back in his chair. “I’m fine.”

She fidgeted with the sleeves on her white jumpsuit. “What did you want to see me about?”

“This.” He handed a holofile to a metallic drone waiting by his desk. It trundled over to Roca and gave it to her.

“What is it?” Roca asked.

“The results of your husband’s medical tests.”

She tensed, scanning the file. “His DNA?”

Kurj wished she didn’t look so hopeful. It made him feel betrayed. “We haven’t finished that analysis yet. The one you’re holding has his medical and psychological results.”

Roca sat reading the report. “So it’s true. He has epilepsy.”

“His condition is severe.” Kurj leaned his elbow on the arm of his smart-chair. “The doctors can control his seizures, but they doubt they can stop them altogether.”

She looked up. “You will let them treat him?”

“I gave you my word I wouldn’t hurt him.” Grudgingly he added, “And denying him treatment would hurt him.” He hated to admit it, but it was true.

“Thank you.” The gratitude that surged from her mind made him feel small.

Kurj clenched the desk, then realized he was doing it and made himself relax his hand. “Look at the rest.”

She continued to read the holofile. As she flicked through the reports, her forehead furrowed. “This can’t be right.”

“I’m sorry.” Kurj wasn’t, not about this, but it seemed the right thing to say.

“ ‘Severely mentally retarded’? That’s absurd!”

“They did a full battery of tests.” Kurj shrugged. “He couldn’t answer even the simplest questions.”

She regarded him, her gaze smoldering. “Then something is wrong with the tests.”

“Nothing is wrong with the tests.”

“This is crazy.” She thrust the holofile at the drone. “I lived with him for eight months. I would have noticed if he were as slow as these reports claim.”

Kurj spoke carefully. “The doctors do have questions about the results. He may not be as impaired as these tests indicate. But, Mother, no one doubts one thing: he isn’t competent to make complex legal decisions involving a culture as advanced as ours.”

She turned wary. “I disagree. But regardless, no one expects him to.”

Although she was guarding her mind, he knew she had doubts, and he knew why. He had investigated. The Allied resort planners had pretended Eldrinson was competent to give permissions that amounted to handing the cultural sovereignty of his people to a multistellar corporation. Had the man truly understood, surely he would have fought it more.

Kurj leaned forward, crossing his arms on his desk. No matter how he handled this, his mother would be angry. He accepted that. He had to take care now. If he acted without sensitivity, it could turn her against him forever. He didn’t fool himself that someday she would thank him. He knew her too well. She loved without condition, with a loyalty that had no limitations. It was why he cared for her so deeply; only Roca would love him despite his abiding, irredeemable flaws.

He spoke quietly. “Mother, are you aware of Eldrinson’s age?”

She tensed. “What about it?”

“He is rather young for you.”

Although she shrugged, her lack of concern was too studied. “Ruby queens have always married younger men. You know that.”

“When Skolia was a matriarchy, yes. It isn’t now.” That stretched the point; aspects of their culture retained its ancient structure, including the conservatism of certain noble Houses, which was why Dayj Majda never appeared in public without his robes and cowl. “We have laws regarding the age at which people can consent to a lifetime marriage contract.”

Puzzlement came from her mind, though it was hard to read more from her, given how well she fortified her barriers. “It never bothered you that I’m older than Dayj.”

He touched a panel on his desk, and the drone trundled over to give him the holofile. Kurj motioned at his mother with the file. “We aren’t sure of your husband’s exact age; his people don’t measure time in years, and they have enough differences in their physiology that the medics want to do another check.” He regarded her steadily. “But no one doubts he is too young to marry.”

Roca frowned. “That’s absurd. He’s well into adulthood.”

“That may be.” Kurj set down the file. “But you aren’t from his culture. And Imperialate law is clear, Mother. He cannot give his consent to marry you, an offworlder, unless he is older than twenty-five standard years.”

She didn’t look impressed. “It would be easy to prove he’s an emancipated minor under our laws. He’s a leader, one well loved and respected by his people.”

Kurj tapped the holofile. “According to these, he’s not competent to act as an emancipated minor.”

Roca clenched the arms of her chair. “You can’t make this stick. Anyone who talks to him will know he’s competent.”

Kurj couldn’t believe she was trying to replace Tokaba’s memory this way. She had done it with Darr, and that monumental disaster had scarred them for life. Now she had chosen someone even worse. He wanted to shout, but he made himself speak gently. It felt strange, as if he were trying to contort himself. “The medics talked with him for a long time.”

Her face flushed. “
Your
medics.”

“I’m sorry.” And he was sorry, not that the marriage wasn’t valid, but that he was hurting her.

Roca stood up, her motions controlled, her barriers raised, but nothing could hide the blaze of her anger. “Why should you care if Eldri and I have a valid contract? I gave you my word I wouldn’t go back to him.”

“Then why make him a Ruby consort? To what point?”

She spoke bitterly. “To protect him from an Assembly that would wring the joy out of his life so they could control him. You
know
he’s a Ruby psion. I won’t let them destroy his life by treating him like a scientific and political resource instead of a human being. They’ve tried to do it to us, constraining and controlling our lives, but we have too much power for them to own us. As long as Eldri is my consort, that power protects him.”

Kurj stood behind his desk, rising to his full height. “You are right, Mother. Eldrinson Valdoria is a resource.” His rage was getting the better of him. “A valuable
resource.
Nothing more. He will never be my father.”

“No, he won’t. But he
is
my husband. Nothing you do or say, no test you give, will change that.” Her voice quieted, though it never lost its steel. “I wish the pain of our past didn’t have the power to devastate our lives. I wish I could take away the anguish you’ve suffered, as a child, an adult, a Jagernaut. I will always love you, Kurj, and I have immense admiration for what you have accomplished. But if you force this, I will fight you. Is that what you want? To tear apart the Ruby Dynasty?”

He pushed down his rage. “No. But I must act in our best interests—not only the Ruby Dynasty, but all of Skolia. I will not relent on this, Mother, no matter what you tell me.” He tried to hide the pain under his words, wanting neither her sympathy nor her pity, but he knew she would always see, always know, how it hurt him. “I regret that it causes discord between us.”

Sorrow showed in her gaze. “So do I.”

Then she left.

Vaj Majda, General of the Pharaoh’s Army, stood at her full height, well over six feet. She slapped the communiqué on the Strategy Table. “It is a trick.”

Seated on the long side of the oval table, Kurj studied the others around him, trying to sense where they came down in this “offer” from the Traders to negotiate. Jarac stood at the far end of the table, facing off with Majda across its length, his fists braced on its transparent surface, his knuckles reflected in the bright mechanisms within it. His tension beat against Kurj’s mind.

The First Councilor was present as a simulacrum, which left Kurj no way to pick up his mood. Kurj’s grandmother, the Ruby Pharaoh, was sitting near him, but she guarded her mind with an expertise gained over more than three centuries. Although he couldn’t tell if she still supported the invasion, he doubted she had changed her mind.

All four ISC chiefs were also attending in person: Banner Highchief, Fleet Commander; Marla Bay, Commandant of the Advance Services Corps; General Vaj Majda; and Kurj. Highchief and Bay had shielded their minds, but he picked up enough to have concerns. Bay had voted against the invasion. Although Highchief supported Kurj, she preferred an alternative to invasion. Prior to this, she hadn’t believed a viable one existed. But now? He didn’t like the signs.

“What is it you want?” Jarac demanded of Vaj Majda. “The territory the Traders took from us—or a war? You claim it is the first, but when offered a chance to regain a good part of that territory without fighting, you urge us to battle.” He hit the table with his fist. “It is madness. I refuse.”

Majda braced her own palms against the table, leaning forward. “The Assembly voted for the invasion, Imperator Skolia. You have no choice.” Her voice hardened. “The Ruby Dynasty may feel it has no duty to honor its promises, but you cannot gainsay our entire governing body.”

Kurj inwardly groaned. Majda seethed at the insult to her nephew Dayj. Eldrinson Valdoria had a great deal to answer for if his marriage to Roca had done irreparable damage to the alliance between the House of Majda and the Ruby Dynasty.

Commandant Bay spoke. “If we can achieve our purpose without invasion, the vote becomes moot.”

Highchief frowned. “This assumes their offer is genuine.”

The Ruby Pharaoh tapped the table, bringing up a copy of the communiqué. “This offer is for only one-fourth of the territory.”

Jarac turned to his wife, his stance easing. “We only claim one-third of it.”

“They have no interest in negotiating,” Kurj said. “This so-called offer is meant to mislead and divide us.”

“I disagree,” the First Councilor said. “They knew when they claimed that territory that we had been mining asteroids there for centuries. They never expected to keep it. They’ve been bluffing, seeing how far they could push.”

Highchief crossed her long arms, lights gleaming along her cybernetic limbs. “They aren’t the only ones who know that game.” Her dark smile made her look dangerous rather than amused. “Surely by now they know we have voted to reclaim our territories.”

Kurj understood: the unstated specter of invasion could be an invaluable tool in a negotiation. But he had no intention of bargaining.

“It wasn’t a vote to ‘reclaim’ anything,” Jarac said. “It was a poorly disguised threat to invade them.” He motioned at the communiqué. “They’ve responded with an offer to bargain.”

Majda crossed her arms. “I object to bargaining for what already belongs to us.”

“They might have some claim to part of it,” the First Councilor pointed out. “They’ve mined a part of the Platinum Sectors for a long time.”

Majda waved her hand. “They are claiming far more than that small region.”

Lahaylia spoke quietly. “The day will come when the Traders seek to conquer us all. They offer to negotiate now only because they aren’t ready to attack.”

Marla Bay pushed back from the table and stood. She began to pace, her dark head bowed, her gaunt limbs all angles and sharp edges. Kurj waited. So did everyone else.

Eventually she stopped behind her chair. “We aren’t ready to conquer the Traders. Invade them now, in a year, even five years, and we will deplete ourselves.” When Majda frowned, Bay held up her hand. “We may succeed with the invasion. But then? The effort will weaken us. Too much.”

“It will weaken them as well,” Majda said.

“Commandant Bay is right,” the First Councilor said. “The Traders have more resources than we do. They can recover faster. We are even less ready for war than they.”

Kurj crossed his arms. “What shall we say, ‘Let’s make peace today so I can kill you tomorrow’? While we dither, they will attack.”

Jarac shook his head. “It is foolish for us to attack when they have offered to negotiate.”

“It is foolish to let false offers weaken us,” Majda said.

“I say we negotiate,” Jarac answered.

The First Councilor spoke. “Shall we vote?” When the others indicated agreement, Jarac, Majda, and Marla Bay sat down. The First Councilor set his palmtop out to record the vote. “We are deciding whether or not to accept the Eubian offer to negotiate for a portion of the disputed territory as an alternative to asserting our claim to all the territories by force. An aye vote supports the negotiations, a nay vote opposes them.” He turned to Marla Bay. “Commandant, how do you vote?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Aye.”

He spoke to Banner. “Commander Highchief?”

She answered quietly. “Aye.”

Kurj silently swore. Banner’s reversal spelled disaster. He was going to lose by one vote.

The First Councilor turned to Kurj. “Primary Skolia?”

Kurj gave him an implacable stare. “Nay.”

“General Majda?”

She scowled. “Nay.”

“Imperator Skolia?”

“Aye,” Jarac said.

“Pharaoh Lahaylia?”

She didn’t look at her husband. “Nay.”

Kurj glanced at Jarac, wondering how his grandparents kept their marriage viable when they found themselves on opposing sides of issues that affected billions of people. His grandfather didn’t project anger, though, only relief that the vote had gone his way.