He spoke mildly. “Even if I did all that, you still couldn’t let me live. ISC and the noble Houses will demand the execution.”
“I don’t care. I won’t order it. But you have to give me a reason I can support. Otherwise my rule is undermined before it starts.”
“I won’t dishonor my principles.” He took a deep breath. “Not even to live.”
The hatch hummed behind us. As we turned, it opened. Kelric filled the entrance. He glanced from Barcala to me. “The shuttle is waiting.”
Turning to Barcala, I mentally beseeched him one last time. Aloud I said, “Come with us. Make the statement.”
He spoke with regret, and also fear, but his voice remained strong. “I can’t do what you want. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”
My eyes felt hot. “Then we must, each of us, do what is necessary.”
Softly he said, “Farewell, Dehya.”
I swallowed. “Good-bye, Barcala.”
Then I had to leave, to face the unforgiving future.
32
Light and Air
Golden light bathed the Hall of Chambers, gilding it in antique hues. Media teams surrounded the dais, setting up consoles, arranging holocams, and checking lamps. They would broadcast our speech to Parthonia and also to ships in orbit, which would carry it to other worlds. Telops also prepared to use the newly-birthed psiberweb to send the broadcast Jagernaut bodyguards paced the hall. Less visible, but more deadly, EI-controlled defense systems kept track of everyone.
Kelric and I stood in an alcove. Techs moved around us, attaching mikes that would carry our voices to whatever recording devices wanted them. I felt numb. Kelric watched me in silence, his gaze questioning, but I couldn’t answer.
I thought of Colonel Yamada on Delos, who had dealt with us in honor, yes, but also in fear that we, Earth’s bellicose siblings, would lay waste to an innocent world in retaliation for an offense against the Ruby Dynasty. And the Allieds, who had chosen to hold their fire on the racer. Would I have let an Allied racer go free in a similar circumstance? Then I thought of Sôz, Jaibriol II, Jaibriol III, of three children who had vanished. Soz had to have died for a reason. I couldn’t believe the Radiance War had been in vain.
A tech adjusted a micro-monitor on my collar. It would analyze anyone who came near me and relay data to my bodyguards. I wore a simple blue jumpsuit and had my hair piled on my head. No ostentation. Not today.
The tech spoke into the comm on her wrist. “We’re ready here.”
“Good.” The voice came out of her comm. “Have Pharaoh Dyhianna and Imperator Skolia come out after we finish the anthem.”
“Will do,” the tech said.
Kelric spoke to me in a low voice. “Are you sure about this? I can still speak.”
“It’s all right. I don’t mind.” It didn’t surprise me that he had asked that only I speak during the ceremony. He had always loathed public oration.
Our bittersweet anthem floated from the airy Hall, painfully beautiful. Its notes flashed like water in the sun, yet they also sang of pain and loss. When the anthem finished, Kelric and I left the alcove, escorted by techs and bodyguards. The holocams followed our progress through the golden light, which the techs were no doubt enhancing. As we mounted the dais, the media crews moved back so they wouldn’t block the cameras. Our bodyguards continued with us to the center of the great disk. Then we waited, gazing at the holocams, aware we were also looking out at billions, even trillions of people.
A low voice sounded in my ear, coming from a comm-button the techs had put there. “We’re ready to start, Your Highness.”
So. It was time. I took a breath. Then I began. “My people, I greet you. I come before you today with great hope. It has been five thousand years since the height of the Ruby Empire, almost six thousand since the Ruby Dynasty first rose to power. Throughout our history, Skolia has been our heart. Now, today, we honor that heart with the advent of a new and greater era.”
I stopped, the words of the speech in my mind, poised like spears ready to fall. The next sentence would start simply: With a smooth transition to the new government… Those eight words had caused more debate among my speech writers than the rest of the address. It was the closest I would come in this broadcast to mentioning Barcala’s execution.
“With a smooth transition to the new government,” I began. The rest waited on my tongue: The Ruby Dynasty again assumes full sovereignty of the Skolian Imperialate.
I looked past the techs, consoles, and holocams to the people around the edges of the Hall. Eldrin was there, leaning against a column, his arms crossed. He wore normal clothes today, no fairy-tale king for the Allieds, just a normal man in gray slacks and a gray pullover.
You are the sea that carries my ship, I thought to him. The currents of wind I ride above the mountains, the air that lets me breathe. The love he and I shared, it had been enough to pull me across the stars to him at Delos. Harmonics of love. He and I, we existed together, complete in ourselves, but isolated from the rest of humanity. Someday we would have to decide: remain as we were or relinquish our humanity and become something else. Taquinil had made his decision, completing the evolution he and I had started. A day might come when I also took that journey.
But not today.
I still wanted my humanity. I wanted Skolia. But I couldn’t do it alone. Just as Kelric’s Quis dice needed structures to give them meaning, or spherical harmonics needed physics to define them as more than pleasing shapes, so the Rhon needed the rest of humanity to achieve our full potential. Kelric’s dice were exquisite jewels. Spherical harmonics were lovely functions. But what did you do with gems in geometric shapes? What did you do with beautiful functions? They could exist in isolation or they could be more. Kelric’s dice created Quis. Spherical harmonics described the physical universe. The Rhon wove the psiberweb.
Less than a second had gone by while I paused. So I spoke again, letting the acoustics of the hall amplify my voice. “We will meld an alliance unlike any Skolia has known before.”
Throughout the hall, the techs and media people looked up from whatever they were doing. This wasn’t the script.
“Several tendays ago,” I continued, extemporizing, “the government of Skolia shifted from the Assembly to the Ruby Dynasty. I stand before you now as full sovereign. During the Ruby Empire, the rule of the Dynasty was absolute.”
Techs were talking into comms now, agitated, intent on my words, and also on whatever protests were coming over their comms.
“Skolia identified itself for six millennia through the Ruby Empire,” I said. “Yet in this modern day, in the complexities of human life, we chose a representative government instead.” I paused for many seconds this time, giving myself one last chance to reconsider. Then I said, “And so it should be.”
The techs froze, their comms forgotten. Beyond them, Eldrin lowered his arms and stood upright.
I searched for the right words. Although I had planned none of this, the thoughts had long been in my mind. “The uneasy meld of modern politics with ancient tradition has often rent our civilization. We think of ourselves as an ancient race from Raylicon, yet compared to humanity on Earth, we are incredibly young. We have no history prior to six thousand years ago, only distant memories of our birth world. We are new. Raw. At this crucial time in our growth, we dare not destabilize Skolia. We need both the Ruby Dynasty and Assembly.”
The techs were moving fast now, making sure they caught every word as I continued. “For that reason, the new government will join old and new.” I was guessing now; I had spoken of this with no one. “The Ruby Dynasty and the Assembly will share the governance of Skolia.”
If the Assembly accepted my proposal, they would never again control us. But neither would we control them. It wasn’t an ideal solution; the traditions of the Ruby Empire didn’t allow for partial pharaohs. But if sharing power could give the Ruby Dynasty the freedom to control our lives, I could live with my title being calle
d honorary. The reality mattered, not the names applied by history and tradition.
The noble Houses wouldn’t like it. Yet Vazar’s responses through all this made me wonder if even some of them would prefer this to a complete overthrow of the Assembly. The new relationship wouldn’t be easy, but maybe, just maybe, it would be better.
“So begins our new future.” I turned to another holocam, shifting my focus as I had been asked to do at the end of the speech. I was supposed to finish with a rousing tribute to Skolia. But I had a different conclusion in mind, one that had been turning in my thoughts ever since I had heard Jaibriol III speak these words: We have suffered the ravages of our conflicts. Let us now seek to heal. To the people of the Skolian Imperialate and the Allied Worlds of Earth, I say this: Meet me at the peace table. Let us lay to rest the hatreds that have sundered our common humanity.
I had neither the eloquence nor planning that had gone into his speech, but I did have the authority to respond. All settled space would hear my words, but they were meant for one person. Perhaps he was my nephew, perhaps not, but he still extended the bittersweet promise of hope.
I spoke to the camera. “I accept the offer of Jaibriol the Third, Emperor of Eube, to meet at the peace table. Let us work together—Skolian, Trader, and Allied—to heal the rifts that have divided our common humanity.”
So finished my first—and last address—as a full Ruby sovereign.
We strode down a goldstone corridor, Kelric, Eldrin, and I, in a flurry of motion and a crowd of people, all headed away from the Hall of Chambers. The elevator at the end of the corridor would whisk us to the roof, where we would board a racer and return to Roca’s Pride. Holocasters sped along with us, both human and robot, keeping up a barrage of questions. Jagernauts surrounded us in a bulwark. Actually, Kelric made a good portion of that bulwark. Although his face remained impassive, I could tell he was enjoying himself.
Harried techs ran with us, giving the same answer over and over to the holocasters: Details would be forthcoming. It was fortunate we hadn’t planned to take questions after the speech anyway, because we had no answers. I didn’t know if Barcala would consent to my idea. But even if he refused, no one could execute him now. I had become part of a coalition government, one that included the Assembly. If Barcala said no, the Assembly could vote him out and pick a new First Councilor.
No reporters managed to shove into the elevator with us, but when we reached the roof, many more were there, shouting. With our bodyguards clearing a path, we ran through the crowd to the racer. Even after we boarded the ship and were closing the hatch, the reporters continued to call out questions. As we strapped into our seats, the comms in the cockpit lit up like a festival tree. The racer engines rumbled and the people outside scattered. Then the ship leap off the roof and soared into the sky, headed for orbit.
Messages flooded in as we traveled to Roca’s Pride, Ragnar and Naaj hated my idea, an odd alliance given Ragnar’s antipathy toward the Houses and Naaj’s arrogance toward anyone not of them. Chad Barzun pledged support. And so, of all people, did Vazar Majda.
Then the pilot said, “Pharaoh Dyhianna, I’m receiving a message through Secondary Jinn Opsister.” She paused. “It comes from Barcala Tikal.”
I sat up straighter. “What does he say?”
Her voice quieted. “Three words. ‘Yes, I agree.’”
Relief flooded over me and I sat back in my seat, my breath coming out in a long exhalation. For the first time since I had awoken on Opalite, I felt hope for the future.
The darkness in my quarters gave a much-needed respite. The day had seemed endless, while Barcala Tikal and his Assembly councilors met with me and my people. We had debated for hours, trying to hammer out a compromise. It was going to take time, and Kelric and I were in for some rip-roaring fights—but saints almighty, it looked like it would work.
Footsteps entered the room. “Dehya?”
I turned onto my side. “My greetings, Dryni.”
Eldrin sat on the bed, a silhouette in the dark. “A long day.”
“Truly.” I tugged playfully on his sleeve. “Come, Husband.”
He gave a low laugh. “You come, Wife.” Then he slid under the covers and pulled me into his arms.
I touched the bare skin of his neck. “When did the doctors operate?” No one had told me they had finished mapping the intruding web within his body and could remove the restraints.
“Today. We didn’t want to distract you.” He settled me in his arms. “It is true that Jaibriol the Third has responded to your speech?”
I nodded, my head on his shoulder. “He will meet with us.”
“Gods,” he murmured. “It’s incredible.”
“I hope so. But we’ve so far to go. It may take decades. I ran models on it.”
“I didn’t think you could predict that far ahead.”
“I can’t tell much, only that the next fifty years will be rocky.” I thought back to the sessions today. “But we have the separation of powers formalized now.”
“It was good what you did.”
I winced. “Not everyone agrees. And I wish people would stop acting so shocked.”
Amusement lightened his voice. “The Ruby Dynasty isn’t known for a willingness to compromise.”
“I suppose.” That intransigence had started wars in ancient times. “Many Aristos don’t want peace either. My models predict the Aristo line of Iquar will resist any treaties between Skolia and the Traders.”
“Iquar? That’s the line of the late Empress.”
“Yes.” ISC had been responsible for her death. Their vengeance would culminate in fifty years, though I had no idea how. Nor did I know yet how Seal and his vanished foster children came into it, but they too were in the models. I would discover why and how even if it took me the next five decades to solve the mystery.
Eldrin was playing with a tendril of my hair, twining it around his four fingers. “Do you remember those black shoes the computer imaged for you when the PR people were deciding what you should wear for the holocast we made at Earth?”
“The high heels?”
“Yes.” He spoke in a low voice near my ear. “You should get those. Just to wear for me.”
I laughed softly. “All right.” I had asked my personal EI why Eldrin liked those shoes, given that they made me taller and he preferred small women. The EI gave me a dreary discourse about how raised heels changed human female posture in a way that inspired human males to think of reproduction. I supposed it made sense, but at a gut level I still couldn’t fathom why stiletto heels would make Eldrin want, to make babies.
“Eldrin?”
He kissed the ridges in my ear. “Hmmmm…?”
“My models predict something else.”
He sighed. “Dehya, you need to stop thinking about math and concentrate on your husband.”
“I am.”
He raised his head, looking a bit alarmed. “You are?”
“Dryni… what if we had another child? A son?”
He laid his forehead against mine. “Dehya, love, we don’t dare.”
“Maybe we could find a way.”
“I wish it could be true. But you know the risks.”
“Medicine is always advancing.”
His voice softened. “We can always hope.” His thoughts carried a bittersweet ache, remembering both joy and anguish with Taquinil.
I touched his cheek. “If we do ever have another son, I would like to name him Althor. For your brother.”
“Yes. I would like that.” He pulled me closer.
So we loved each other, at the dawn of this new era we had entered. The future still held many unknowns. It wouldn’t be easy to solve the problems that plagued humanity. But hope had come.
Perhaps we could find a way, after six millennia, to reunite the sundered children of Earth.
Author’s Note: Science in Science Fiction
I
THOUGHT HARMONICS
Spheres of A
rt
Spherical harmonics are among the most beautiful functions in physics. In this essay I will describe what they are and try to give a feel for how and why they inspired this book.
Spherical harmonics can be used to form spheres, rings, teardrops, and other rounded shapes. They appear in many areas of physics, including quantum theory, electromagnet-ism, and optics. When I do physics, I tend to associate mathematical terms with colors, textures, and other traits. I envision spherical harmonics in shimmering hues: rose, lavender, blue, silver. My doctoral thesis brims with them, a pleasant set of equations to work out given the lovely images they create in my mind.
I’ve also always liked the name, in part because of the musical associations it evokes. Music has played a big part in my life; I’ve studied both ballet and piano, and to a lesser extent voice. The word harmonic simultaneously makes me think of melodic harmonies and pleasing equations.
The spark of creativity I feel when choreographing a dance is similar to what I feel when solving an equation, and the meditative quality of ballet class reminds me of working on a satisfying derivation. I first combined the two in a ballet called Spherical Harmonic that I choreographed for several students in a dance program I directed while in grad school at Harvard. Spherical harmonics often describe waves, so the ballet evoked wave motions as the dancers wove in and out of spherical patterns. The colors of their skirts, leotards, and tights matched the colors I see for spherical harmonics. I set the ballet to a Gymnopedie by Eric Satie, which has a delicate beauty that fits the way I imagine the functions. That ballet became the seeds of this story.
Spanning Space
When I was choreographing the dance, I couldn’t resist playing with some science fiction “What if?” questions. I wondered what a universe spanned by spherical harmonics would be like if you could actually visit there.
Spherical Harmonic Page 34
