Juliana shook her head. "No, I wanted to tell you first. It wasn't my place to tell your family about Valerian."
"True," said Arcturus, lapsing into silence for a moment as a thought occurred to him.
"What is it?" asked Juliana, seeing a dawning realization in his face.
"It was on Tyrador IX, wasn't it?" he said.
"Can you remember any other time you slept with me?"
"Of course not. Don't be so melodramatic; I was thinking aloud," said Arcturus. "Give me a damn moment to get my thoughts straight. You can't spring something like this on me and expect me to be rational just yet."
He reached for another drink, then thought the better of it. He replaced the glass and began to pace the length of the room, running a hand through his hair as he did so.
"Rational?" said Juliana. "What is there to be rational about? You have a son and you have a chance to get to know him. To get to know me again. We can be a family now."
"A family?" said Arcturus, halting before her. "I... Is that what you want of me? To leave everything behind and come and live on Umoja with you and the boy?"
"His name is Valerian."
"I know what his name is, Juliana."
"Then why are you afraid to say it?" she countered. "Are you afraid that if you say his name you'll have to acknowledge him? That he'll become real to you?"
"No, of course not, don't be absurd."
"Then why won't you say his name?"
"Valerian," said Arcturus. "Valerian, Valerian, Valerian. There, are you happy now?"
Juliana slapped him across the cheek and he had to restrain the urge to slap her back. He remembered a similarly stinging blow delivered by his mother. In hindsight, he'd realized he'd deserved that one, and, he was forced to admit, he probably deserved this one too.
"I'm sorry, Juliana," he said at last. "But I can't leave everything I'm building to come and play happy family with you. I just can't."
"Then what? You're just going to leave like you always do? Run away instead of face up to things?"
"I don't run from things," warned Arcturus.
"Of course you do," said Juliana. "You joined the Marine Corps to run away from your father and you ran away from me just when we were getting close. And now you're going to run away from your son. Your heir."
Juliana's words hit home like hammer blows as he saw the truth of them. Rather than facing up to the events that stood at the crossroads of his life, he had turned from them and chosen the path of least resistance. Would this be another such moment?
Arcturus stood on the brink of everything he had ever wanted, but what good was any of it if it was built on foundations of shifting sand? Perhaps now was the time to take stock of his life and look to his legacy. After all, his father had been only a couple of years older than Arcturus was now when he had been handed his son.
"Very well, Juliana," he said at last. "I'll stay. I will talk to the...to Valerian. I'll get to know him and he will be my heir, as you say."
She threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around him once more. "I'm so happy. I knew that once you saw Valerian you'd want to be part of his life."
Again, Arcturus prized Juliana from him, though with less force than the last time.
"Don't let's get ahead of ourselves now," he said. "I said I'll get to know him. but I still don't know if I'm ready to just give up on everything I've built.”
"I'm not asking you to," said Juliana, cupping his chin in her hands and pressing her face close to his. "Can't you see that? You don't have to give anything up. We can all be together. All of us. We can have everything we ever dreamed of. All those grand plans you told me over the years? They' re coming to fruition now. Right now. You just have to want to see it."
Arcturus smiled.
Perhaps Juliana's words had merit or perhaps it was the alcohol flowing around his system, but whatever it was, Arcturus was surprised to find the idea didn't horrify him. Perhaps they could be a normal family after all.
Arcturus awoke with a thick head and a brief dislocation as he wandered where he was. He was refreshed and his limbs felt gloriously rested. The prefabricated crew quarters of a mining claim or the cramped confines of a starship weren't exactly conducive to uninterrupted sleep, and he'd forgotten just how nice it was to spend a night in a soft bed. He stretched and rolled his neck on the pillow, enjoying the warmth and letting the aches of the last six months ease from his bones.
He smiled, and then the blissful forgetfulness of waking was replaced with the cold, hard remembrances of the previous night's events as everything came rushing back.
Juliana.
Valerian.
His son...
The gentle ease of morning fled from his body and he pushed himself upright, looking around the wood-paneled room, with its tasteful furniture, heavy curtains, and discreetly situated technology. The functionality of the room was pure Umoja, and the sliver of dusty orange sky he could see through the window only confirmed it.
Arcturus swung his legs from the bed, his earlier desire to wallow in the thickness and warmth of the covers having evaporated once he remembered the purpose of Ailin Pasteur's summons. At least now he understood the source of the man's less-than-friendly welcome.
Quickly and without fuss, Arcturus cleaned himself in the sonic shower, a fine, elegantly designed machine. The brand wasn't one owned by the Old Families: such independence was typical of most homes on Umoja, suspected Arcturus. It was, little to his surprise, efficient and thorough, vibrating the particles of sweat and dead skin from him without peeling off another few layers of skin for good measure.
He shaved with a similarly efficient sonic razor and combed his hair, then dressed in a dark gray suit with knee-height boots. The suit had been cleaned and pressed, the boots polished to a mirror sheen. Ailin Pasteur's servants were thorough, that was for sure.
"Time to face the music," he said, and left the room, making his way along a marble-faced corridor that opened out into the entrance hall he'd arrived in last night. The door to the sitting room was open and Arcturus could hear voices coming from within. He recognized one as belonging to Ailin Pasteur, and entered the room.
Sure enough, the Umojan ambassador was sitting in the same chair his daughter had occupied the night before. He was talking to one of his functionaries, who look notes on a personal console with a wand stylus.
Pasteur, his face an unreadable mask, looked up as Arcturus entered.
"Good morning, Ailin," said Arcturus.
"Indeed," replied Pasteur. "You slept well?"
"You have no idea," said Arcturus. "After nearly a year of sleeping on top of rocks or camp beds, I could have slept anywhere, but, yes, I was most comfortable, thank you."
"Hungry?"
"Ravenous," said Arcturus.
Pasteur nodded to his servant and the man bowed before withdrawing from the room and shutting the door behind him.
"Where's Juliana?" asked Arcturus.
"Outside with Valerian. Digging up the bottom of the garden, no doubt."
"You don't have groundskeepers?"
Ailin smiled, though there was no warmth to it. "I do, but that's not what I meant. Valerian's quite the budding archaeologist. He loves digging in the earth almost as much as another young man I remember."
"Maybe he takes after me," said Arcturus.
"I rather think he does."
"You sound disappointed."
"No, just sad for you that you've missed so much of Valerian's life. The years when Juliana was growing up were some of the happiest I've ever had, but you'll never know that simple joy."
"Hardly my fault, Ailin," pointed out Arcturus. "I didn't know he even existed."