"It's all true." He pushed his hand over the iron-gray stubble of his hair. "But I didn't tell you."
I considered. "I think our 'conversation' was the Triad Chair's way of letting me know the situation." I thought back over the experience. "Eldrin was there, too."
"He never left
Havyrl's Valor,
" Chad said. "He is still on channel two, though. Shall I put him through?"
My mood picked up. "Yes. I would like that."
Chad touched a button on the rail of my bed, and it morphed into a comm mesh. Then he said, "Prince Eldrin, your wife is on two."
"Thank you, Admiral." Although Eldrin spoke with the formality he used around people we didn't know well, I heard his relief. His voice brightened the hospital room, at least to me.
"Greetings, Husband," I said.
"I'm glad you're back, Dehya."
I grinned. "It was that handsome face of yours. It revived me."
Amusement lightened his voice. "You sound a lot better now."
"I am." I thought back to my "conversation" with him. "Dryni, did Vyrl recently marry a young woman? An empath?"
"Actually, yes. How did you know? I just heard."
"I had an episode in the Triad Chair when I thought you and I were talking. You said his marriage helped him heal from nightmares. From sensory deprivation. It sounded like your nightmare."
"But I dreamed I was my father. Not Vyrl."
"It must be connected." I pushed down the rail of my bed and swung my legs over the edge.
Bayliron moved to block my departure. "Your Highness," he said, using the overly respectful tone people invoked whenever they were about to say something they knew I didn't want to hear. "You must stay in bed."
"I'm fine." I tried to push him aside. He was a lot bigger, which made him rather akin to a rock. "Please remove yourself."
"I can't do that, ma'am."
"Doctor Bayliron." I pulled myself up as tall as possible, which meant the top of my head came to his shoulder. Looking up, I said, "I don't have time to be sick."
He sighed. "Your Highness, if I give you clearance to get up, you must stop pushing yourself so hard. One of these days you will collapse."
I sensed his resistance weakening. "I'll be careful."
He gave me a doubtful look, but he did move aside and let me slide off the bed. The white Luminex floor felt cool and smooth under my bare feet.
After various formalities, Bayliron took his leave with the robot medics. The gold one paused at the door and pulled out a soft-chair with laundered clothes on it. I recognized the blue jumpsuit I had worn in the Triad Chair.
I sent a wireless message to the robot's EI brain:
Thank you.
You are welcome, Your Highness.
Its tone felt metallic.
Chad was watching me. "Your bodyguards are outside. I'll be on the bridge. When you're ready, they can bring you up."
"Very well." I rubbed my arms, feeling the cool air through the sim-suit. "Thank you, Admiral."
"It is my honor, Your Highness." His mood washed over me like clear notes rising above a mutter. His lack of misgivings about our actions contrasted sharply with Vazar and Jon's doubts. Even I had doubts, but I couldn't let them show.
When I was alone, I changed my clothes. I had a sort of privacy; my nodes detected no visual sensors watching the room. But monitors kept track of my physiological functions. The whole room was one big sensor.
I sometimes daydreamed I lived in a place where no one cared what I did, where I never had to worry about privacy with my husband, and no one wanted to assassinate, use, kidnap, assault, or be afraid of me. I thought of Eldrin's words about his childhood on Lyshriol, where they didn't even have consoles in most rooms and the children had run free in the fields.
I mourned a freedom I had never known.
* * *
The holoscreens on the bridge projected huge figures. An Allied officer filled the view, Raymond MacLane, a craggy five-star general with gray hair and deep lines engraved on his face. The Allieds had a reverse cultural dynamic than ours when it came to aging; their men tended to ignore its signs more than their women, whereas Skolian men disguised its advance more than our women. MacLane's hazel eyes were deeply set under thick eyebrows. He commanded one of the Allieds' great flagships, the
Tricia Andreque
, named for one of Earth's most renowned authors. He was Chad's counterpart among the Allied fleet escorting us to Earth, since I had promoted Chad to full admiral.
"Our intent is peaceful," Chad continued. With firm purpose, he added, "We look forward to seeing Councilor Roca, Web Key Eldrinson, Lady Ami, and Kurjson."
"Of course." MacLane remained noncommittal.
MacLane's wariness set off my mental alarms. Despite Eldrin's dream of his father on Lyshriol, Eldrin remained convinced his parents were here, or at least his mother. We needed Roca, who was my heir now that Taquinil had left, and also best suited to take over as Imperator. So we had come to Earth, where the Allieds claimed their "guests" resided. I hoped they were telling the truth.
Even if they had sent Eldrinson to Lyshriol, I doubted they would have let Ami and her young son accompany him. She had no blood relation to that branch of the family, and the Allieds wouldn't want too much of the Ruby Dynasty in one place. I couldn't imagine they would separate Roca from Eldrinson, but if both had gone to Lyshriol, the Allieds had to tell us soon. Moving the Ruby Dynasty could be interpreted as a hostile act, and they knew ISC responded vehemently when challenged. If Eldrinson truly had died, they were probably having collective heart failure right now, given our request for his return. Our presence put them in a hellacious position.
The Allieds had always seen us as belligerent and uncivilized, just as we saw them as weak and naïve. And yet… I sometimes thought their approach to life might be better for humanity, even though such a government would strip the Ruby Dynasty of all power. I had never revealed that to anyone, of course, except Eldrin.
As Chad parried with MacLane, I floated a few meters away, holding a cable, with Ragnar at my side. Chad's channel to the
Tricia Andreque
showed no more than his command chair. Both Ragnar and I outranked MacLane, so Skolian hierarchal protocols required we not appear unless MacLane acknowledged us as the ranking dignitaries. Given that we didn't know yet how the Allieds would respond to the new political landscape of Skolia, we hadn't revealed we were in the middle of a coup or that I had accompanied the fleet.
After Chad and MacLane closed the connection, Ragnar and I moved to the command chair. Chad spoke dryly. "He ought to win the prize for responses that say nothing."
"Maybe Roca and Eldrinson aren't here," I said.
Ragnar scowled. "Then where the blazes are they?"
Good question. "I think it's time I spoke with the Allied President."
"No," Ragnar stated, forgetting protocol.
Chad spoke more carefully. "Pharaoh Dyhianna, I don't think we should reveal your presence."
"Why not?" I asked. "If they know I'm on this cruiser, they will be far less likely to attack it."
Ragnar snorted. "That's right. They'll do their damnedest to capture it instead."
Copying one of his favorite expressions, I raised my eyebrow. "With seventy-five thousand of our ships in attendance?"
"They have over one hundred thousand pacing us," Chad said.
"They don't want to fight." I hooked my arm around the cable, then took floating lengths of my hair and began to twine them into a braid. "We don't want them to assume this fleet represents the Assembly. I
can't
hide now, not if I intend to establish my claim. We have to preempt the Assembly. If the Allieds recognize me as the leader of Skolia, not just in name but in fact, it strengthens our position."
"I don't like the risk involved," Ragnar said.
"It may not be that great," Chad said. "They know that if harm comes to Pharaoh Dyhianna here, ISC will retaliate regardless of our internal affairs."
I knew what he meant. Skolian politics were like family upheavals; you might argue within the family, but you tolerated no outside attacks against your kin. "The Allieds don't want war any more than we do."
Ragnar glanced from Chad to me, scrutinizing us with his legendary intensity. Finally he said, "Very well. Admiral Barzun, set up the link to their president from here."
* * *
The protocols required when two interstellar leaders spoke to each other were interminable. Different procedures existed for opening a dialogue between the Allied president and the Imperialate's civilian leader than for the Allied president and Ruby Pharaoh. Chad combined the two procedures, making it implicit that I now held both Imperialate titles. We would see what the Allieds made of that.
They had a new president: Hanna Loughten. It could work in our favor that she had assumed office only a month ago, giving her a lack of experience, but it also could work against us because we knew so little about her. One particularly tricky aspect of protocol involved who appeared first: Loughten or me. We and the Traders had procedures dating back to the Ruby Empire. The person who requested the communication spoke first. However, in a case such as this, where we came with a show of strength, the "request" took on more force. I had no intention of appearing first. It would be tantamount to conceding that the Allieds had the dominant position. From their point of view, we had entered their system uninvited and had no business making demands. We also had fewer ships. So Loughten shouldn't want to appear first either.
The problem was, you could never tell with the Allieds. They had this penchant for fairness. They preferred timing these things so both leaders appeared simultaneously. It exasperated our protocol officers no end, who insisted on strict adherence to procedure. We usually prevailed because we were the stronger power, but that didn't faze the Allieds. They did their best to oblige the customs of all peoples. I had long harbored a suspicion they would quietly and courteously take over the universe without the rest of us noticing, busy as we were with all our posturing and metaphorical shield-banging.
Right now, I had no intention of relinquishing advantage. Ragnar and I stayed out of sight while Chad went through lengthy greetings with various Allied officials. They hid their disquiet, but as an empath I had become proficient at associating body language with emotions, and after a century and a half of practice I could interpret the way most people moved down to small nuances.
Our fleet was well out from Earth, between its orbit and that of Mars, and some distance above the ecliptic. We still weren't admitting we had a new psiberweb, so communications could only go at light speed, with a built-in lag of several minutes. It flustered some of the Allieds. Given that they were probably used to such delays, their disconcerted response hinted at how much we had rattled them. In the past ten years I hadn't even made any public broadcasts, let alone arrived unannounced in anyone's star system.
A senior official appeared, a distinguished man of indeterminate age. After a formal greeting, he finally spoke the words we had been waiting for: "Her Honor, President Hanna Loughten."
The holoscreens went dark. Then a new image formed, a woman with dark hair going silver at the temples. She sat behind a large desk of glossy red-brown wood. The flag of the Allied Worlds hung on a pole behind her, its design simple: blue concentric circles on a white background.
We weren't sending an image yet, so she appeared first. Hard-edged satisfaction emanated from Ragnar, and Chad gave off relief; they assumed the Allieds had acquiesced to us, acknowledging Skolia as the greater power. I supposed they had, but I didn't think Loughten really cared. From experience, I knew the Allieds would respect our hierarchal modes of interaction if that was what it took to get to business, but afterward they would go their way with no difference in how they viewed the universe. It could be annoying, especially when they were right.
Chad beckoned to me, then pushed out of his chair. As he moved past me and grasped a line, I slid into the massive seat. Its panels adjusted to my smaller size and plugged in prongs, connecting my mind to
Roca's Pride.
Activate image,
I thought.
ACTIVATED,
the cruiser rumbled.
I knew when President Loughten saw me. She sat straighter, her shift in position almost undetectable. Then she spoke in Iotic, my language, using the minimalist Skolian form of address: "Pharaoh Dyhianna."
I responded in kind. "President Loughten."
"Welcome to the solar system."
"We appreciate your hospitality." Stock replies. I knew what I would really want to say if I were in her position:
How the hell did you get past our defenses?
Loughten paused. "Your Highness, I am unsure of the proper titles in this situation. Do you prefer your Assembly title or a dynastic address?"
