Rubicon: Aurora Resonant Book Two (Aurora Rhapsody 8)

by G. S. Jennsen

  He closed his eyes and stepped back through what he’d seen, because there had been something eerily familiar about….

  I’ll be damned.

  The face wasn’t quite right, but cosmetic alterations during regenesis were commonplace. The skin tone in the vision was lighter, but Caleb had seen Eren vary his skin from Nordic fair to ebony and several points in between, and that was without regenesis. So Anadens could change their physical appearance easily enough. Mannerisms, bearing and the smallest gesture tics, however, tended to become an intrinsic part of a person. Once they did, they tended to stick around.

  Alex stirred beside him, rolling over and peering at him from behind sleepy lids and tousled hair. “Something wrong?”

  He leaned down and kissed her softly. “No, everything’s fine. Are you ready for today?”

  “I have no idea. How does one get ready for something like this? Listen, I want you close when events start to happen and such.”

  “Of course. I never expected anything else. When will he be ready?”

  “Checking.” She grimaced. “A few more hours, it looks like.”

  “In that case, I’m going to get up and moving. I’ll be there when you need me, but since there’s time, I want to pay Nisi a brief visit this morning.”

  60

  PALAEMON

  ANARCH POST EPSILON

  * * *

  MALCOLM TOOK THE FIRST SHUTTLE down to Palaemon the morning after the mission. Post-mission procedures and debriefs had extended well into the evening, until he’d been forced to wait for the next dawn.

  He wished the shuttle would fly faster. He’d have run to Post Epsilon if he could. His chest pounded as if he were running, and it required effort to sit still and maintain decorum on the shuttle.

  It might not matter if he hurried, but he felt the deep, driving need to hurry nonetheless. Doubts and fears gnawed at his gut; he did his best to quiet them.

  Only once the shuttle landed did it occur to him that he didn’t have the slightest idea where she would be. Considering he didn’t dare pulse her and receive a cold rejection in response, he was at a momentary loss as to what to do now.

  Epsilon wasn’t especially large, and most of the grounds held minimal relevance for AEGIS personnel. If she was at the post, he should be able to find her merely by looking around. He set off from the landing platform for the main complex.

  In a stroke of luck—whether good or bad remained to be seen—he spotted her seconds after reaching the first pavilion.

  She sat at one of the outdoor tables with Cosime, Emily and two of the refugees they’d rescued from the lab. She was showing the refugees some holo images, though he couldn’t tell of what from this distance, and, he suspected, generally trying to help make them feel welcome and at ease. Because she would.

  He stood there watching her, smiling when she smiled when one of the refugees smiled at an image. She wore a white turtleneck sweater and charcoal woolen slacks flared out in a fashionable cut. Gracefully elegant even when trying to be casual. Her raven hair was draped over the white material of her sweater in a loose tail, leaving the exquisite features of her face open and exposed. Might she regret doing so in the next few minutes? Might he?

  She laughed at something Cosime said, and with the movement that accompanied it she caught sight of him standing there gaping at her like a fool. The amiable expression faded, to be replaced by one he couldn’t decipher.

  Then she turned her back on him to lean in and point out something in another image to one of the refugees.

  It was enough to send terror shrieking through his stalwart Marine constitution. But if he walked away now, he’d never find the courage to reach out to her later. He was a coward when it came to affairs of the heart, but he couldn’t be one today.

  He readied himself and approached the table. Cosime waved at him, and the motion caused Mia to glance over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed, as if she was surprised he’d actually come over.

  He tried to smile; probably failed. “Hello, Ms. Rhomyhn. I’m glad to see these refugees are doing well. Mia, can I—” he cleared his throat “—talk to you for a minute? In private?”

  Cosime tossed an animated gesture toward Mia. “Thanks for helping me entertain them for a spell. We’re going to go find some breakfast now. Emily, won’t you join us? And bring your pretty pictures.”

  “Sure.”

  “Good.” Cosime hopped up on the table and across it to jump down the other side and grab the hands of the two refugees. “Come!”

  He watched them leave. A palpable and terribly awkward silence settled into the air in their wake.

  Finally Mia shifted to perch on the edge of the table, letting her feet rest on the bench while her hands remained close in on either side. “Looks like we’re in private now.”

  “Yeah. Um…how are you?”

  She glared at him incredulously. “What do you want, Malcolm?”

  “To fall prostrate on the ground and beg your forgiveness?” He tried again for a weak smile. Possibly succeeded a little better this time.

  “Don’t do that, please. People will stare, and we both have reputations to uphold.” If her words held a hint of teasing, her tone did not.

  “Right.” He opted for pacing. “We went through your wormholes yesterday—which obviously you know. Twice, in fact. There and back. It was an incredible experience.”

  “They’re not my wormholes.”

  “They may as well be. The technology wouldn’t exist without you. And what a marvel they are—much like you.”

  He tried to squelch the cringe which followed the painfully lame words—but she’d turned away, so the effort was wasted.

  He heard her sharp intake of air, though. “I can’t do this—”

  “I know. It’s not fair of me. To say I haven’t been fair to you is to make a mockery of unfairness, but please indulge me this one last time. You’re a leader, a hero, a healer, even a warrior when you have to be. And I treated you like you were dirt. Like you were some kind of delinquent forced to stand before a court and justify the choices that kept you alive.”

  “I was a delinquent.”

  “No, you were a survivor. You’ve always been a survivor, underneath all those other thankless roles.”

  She shook her head forcefully enough for fine locks of hair to escape the silk tie binding them. “You don’t know some of the things I’ve had to do, and when you find out you won’t be happy about them.”

  “I don’t care—I mean, of course I care. I want to know, if or when you want me to know. But you don’t ever need to tell me. I know who you are now, and the struggles of your past helped to make you that person.” He exhaled raggedly. “I love you. I love that person. And your absence from my life these last days has been damn near unbearable. To be in the same room with you, to watch you be amazing and realize I might not…I can hardly breathe.”

  Another stifled cringe. God, he was terrible at this. But what else could he do?

  She stared at him, eyes wide in brilliant jade, sunlight reflecting off the water to reflect off of them. She hadn’t changed their color, not yet. But just as he began to draw hope from the tiniest sign, her gaze fell to her lap. “What about Winslow?”

  “I wish he’d gotten his due punishment the proper way, within the system. But you’re right. He tried to kill you, and on further reflection, I can’t bring myself to be sorry he’s dead.”

  “And Caleb?”

  “I still don’t like him. Don’t trust him, don’t understand him. But I am grateful to him for one thing—he helped you when you needed it most. And now, I’m done talking about him.”

  Malcolm stopped pacing to stand directly in front of her. “I do not deserve you. Not your forgiveness, and certainly not your love. But I’m asking—begging—for it anyway. In the past I’ve always walked when a relationship got hard, because at the root of things I was unwilling to fight for it.

  “But I’m fighting now, because for the
first time, I believe with all my heart it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Please, let me fight for you.”

  “If you truly intend to fight for me, you won’t need my permission to do it. That’s kind of the point.”

  “Well, like I said, I’ve never done it before. It’s no surprise I’m really bad at it.”

  This finally coaxed a weak, halting laugh out of her. Her chin slowly rose until her eyes met his…and he still couldn’t read them. The façade she’d once said she didn’t have to project for him, she now wore as armor.

  Her chin rose higher. Proudly. “You’re the only person who can make me feel…vulnerable. Exposed. You made me need you, but then you were gone and you took with you more than you arrived with. How did you do that?”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I want it back. The part of me you took. I want…I want to have never met you, if only so I would never have recognized…” a tear escaped from the corner of her eye, and she hurriedly wiped it away “…I was missing some part of life. The best part, and the worst. Better to not know, since then I wouldn’t be broken now. Damn you. Damn you for breaking me!”

  He covered his mouth with both hands and clung to his jaw to hold it, and him, together. Broken? She’d never given any sign, remaining always composed, unflappable and in control. Even now, a stranger wouldn’t suspect she was upset. It was in the slight tremble of her eyelids and the miniscule twitching of the muscles of her jaw, but none but her closest friends would ever see it. He saw it now, but only because she allowed it.

  “I’m sorry.” It came out too weak a whisper, muffled through the space between his fingers. He forced his hands down. She was trying to scare him off, push him away. If he refused to comply he risked failing, but if she succeeded, it was all over.

  “But I’m not sorry for meeting you. If I genuinely managed to accomplish such a thing, I’m not sorry for showing you there was more to life. I’m not sorry that you showed it to me. I can’t be.

  “I hurt you, and I accept full responsibility for it. Worse, I devalued you and all you’ve overcome to become the extraordinary person you are. I may be a Marine, but you’re the true fighter. You’re a survivor. I shouldn’t have discounted this part of you, because it’s why I love you—one of the ‘whys,’—and I swear to you I will never do it again. I will never devalue you again.

  “You are worth more than…everyone else to me. And not solely to me. To all these people, arguably to the entire human race and a couple of alien ones. But I’m feeling a bit selfish at the moment, so I mostly care about what you mean to me.”

  Her throat worked. “You know, you can’t simply waltz up to me, flash your boyish smile and apologize, and think that will make it be okay.”

  Boyish smile? It was something. “I don’t expect it to. I realize you have no reason to believe me. I realize trust has to be built from actions, and I’ve straight-up failed at that lately. I realize I have no right to ask you to trust me now, when the cost is so high if I let you down. So I won’t dare to ask it of you.

  “All I want to ask of you, all I dare to ask of you….” He took a step toward her. She hadn’t been far away, and it put her within his reach. “Is to allow me to kiss you. Just once. You can slap me after. Punch me in the gut, too, if you’re inclined to do so. We’ll go from there.”

  Her head tilted; he’d surprised her. Surprised himself, too. The corners of her lips gradually curled up, if only a little. “You already broke me. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Myself? I’m wondering what the best might be.” He took the final step and swiftly but gently brought a hand up to cup her cheek. His thumb ran softly along her lower lip to bridge the span before his mouth met hers.

  He felt her tremble against him—then she consumed his careful gentleness in a surge of fervency. He drank it in, letting it fill the empty places and return life to a parched soul. He lifted her off the table and into his arms, and when she held on tighter, he thought maybe there was a chance.

  61

  ANARCH POST SATUS

  LOCATION UNKNOWN

  * * *

  POST SATUS HAD TAKEN TO THE STARS for the broadcast, and it could have been anywhere when Caleb exited the teleportation gate. Traversing the glass-bounded bridge that connected the entry room to the hub made for a heady experience. He made a mental note to try to get Alex onto Satus when it was traveling.

  Caleb almost bumped into Nisi in the doorway as the Sator made to leave his office. Though it was undoubtedly a busy time for the man, his expression remained customarily stoic as he looked up and gestured to his office.

  “Is now a bad time?”

  “I have a few minutes before I’m required to depart.”

  Caleb stepped into the spacious office and turned back to Nisi in slight surprise. “The ship’s in transit, yet you’re leaving it?”

  “In the wake of yesterday’s events, your Katasketousya friend, Lakhes, informs me that I will find a sympathetic audience among the Novoloume leadership on Nopreis. Unlike your vessels, however, Satus does not come equipped with a wormhole generator, so I need to travel to the Pegasus Dwarf galaxy on foot, as it were.”

  ‘On foot’ being through a teleportation gate to one of what Caleb imagined were several destination gates located in Pegasus. “I’ll try not to keep you long, then.”

  “It’s fine. They are expecting me in only the loosest sense. So it appears the first use of your wife’s new wormhole device went well, if the footage from Machimis is any indication.”

  Caleb leaned a shoulder on a window—now a viewport, technically—and crossed his ankles and arms. “It did. I suspect the Machim Primor had quite the unpleasant day yesterday. Today, too.”

  “Clever woman, your wife.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “And her other project?”

  “We’ll see in a few hours, but Dimou insists it was a success. So, I listened to your speech last night. Inspiring, enigmatic and loaded with subtext. It was an impressive shot across the bow, but I’m not surprised.”

  “Oh?”

  “See, I know who you are.”

  A flicker of unease crossed Nisi’s eyes. It was gone in an instant. “Do you imagine that you do?”

  He ignored the ambiguous response. “What I can’t figure is why you keep your identity a secret. Why haven’t you told your followers? You could’ve been a true lightning rod against the Directorate all this time. For the true father of the Praesidis—the man who defeated the Dzhvar and led the Anadens to greatness—to openly oppose the Primors? The people would have flocked to you by the millions.”

  Nisi’s face seemed to fall, and his stance lost some of its inherent confidence; he genuinely had doubted Caleb knew the truth.

  He shook his head. “Whoever I may have once been, that man is no more. He hasn’t drawn breath for hundreds of millennia, and trust me when I say we should leave him in his grave.”

  “Semantics. You can change your face and your name as many times as you wish, but you are still Corradeo Praesidis.

  “When we first met, you lied to us. Though considering you’ve been lying to everyone for a very long time, I ought not to be offended. You said you were ‘no Dynasty, and all Dynasties.’ But you’re the founder of the Dynasty. The only one that really matters.”

  “What I said was not a lie, from a certain point of view. I was born before the Dynasties existed, and other than altering my outward physical appearance slightly, I have not changed my genetic structure since they were founded.”

  More semantics, built upon the persona Nisi had painstakingly constructed for himself in lieu of reality. But reality was a tenacious beast. “Your son challenged you for the Praesidis throne. He defeated you and took your diati—but not all of it. You clearly didn’t die as he believed, so what happened next? You didn’t show up in the anarchs for aeons. Where did you go?”

  “How can you know these things?”

  “Nyx’s diati definit
ely came from the Primor—from your son—and it has a long memory.”

  Nisi stared at Caleb for a moment, then moved to a window several meters away. In a dozen subtle ways, his entire demeanor had transformed in the last minute. He looked the same, but a different man stood here now.

  “I should have been dead, wanted to be dead, but the diati wouldn’t allow it. The initial hours and days after I fell have always been a delirium-laden haze, but I do know the diati nurtured me to health while I hid. When I finally ventured back to civilization, I discovered my son had not merely taken my seat on the Directorate from me—he had taken my identity from me. He used regenesis to change his appearance to match mine. He took my name and my skin.

  “So far as I am aware, to this day the other Primors believe he is me. The Praesidis progeny believe he is me. And it is…for the best.

  “I followed his lead and adopted a new identity, judging myself to be in no position to expose or confront Renato. Then I wandered, away from Solum, away from our colonies, away from any world we had touched. I met primitive and not-so-primitive species, some of which the Directorate has to this day never found. I spent centuries alone in the void. I went mad and regained my sanity more than once.”

  He breathed out to ponderous effect. “When I at last returned, I found an empire I no longer recognized. I despaired anew, for this was my fault. My responsibility, for I had fled when I should have fought. I lost hope and begged the diati to leave me to die, but it again declined to comply.

  “In time, I met a woman who fought against the Directorate with such passion, such zeal, as I had never seen. She shone like the fire of a thousand galaxies. I told her who I was, and she loved me anyway. I married her and joined her in her fight. The Directorate killed her. They killed our friends and comrades. But yet again, they could not kill me.

  “Part of me wanted to leave then, to give up for good and wander the stars until I had traveled so far I would be unable to find my way back.