«I am an old man.» the Emperor said.
«Yes.» She stared frankly at his aged face. «I was surprised when I saw you a few moments ago. I have seen holographic pictures, of course … but you … you’ve aged.»
«Indeed.»
«Why can’t you be rejuvenated? It seems like a useless old superstition to keep the Emperor from using modern biomedical techniques.»
«No, no, my child, it is a very wise tradition. You complain of the inflexible old men at the top of the scientific hierarchy. Suppose you had an inflexible old man in the Emperor’s throne? A man who would live not merely six or seven score of years, but many centuries? What would happen to the Empire then?»
«Ohh. I see.» And there was real understanding and sympathy in her eyes.
«So the king must die, to make room for new blood, new ideas, new vigor.»
«It’s sad,» she said. «You are known everywhere as a good Emperor. The people love you.»
He felt his eyebrows rise. «Even on the frontier worlds?»
«Yes. They know that Fain and his troops would be standing on our necks if it weren’t for the Emperor. We are not without our sources of information.»
He smiled. «Interesting.»
«But that is not why you called me here to see you,» Adela said.
She grows bolder. «True. You want to save Earth’s Sun. Bomeer and all my advisors tell me that it is either impossible or foolish. I fear that they have powerful arguments on their side.»
«Perhaps,» she said. «But I have the facts.»
«I have seen your presentation. I understand the scientific basis of your plan.»
«We can do it!» Adela said, her hands suddenly animated. «We can! The critical mass is really minuscule compared to—»
«Megatons are miniscule?»
«Compared to the effect it will produce. Yes.»
And then she was on her feet, pacing the room, ticking off points on her fingers, lecturing, pleading, cajoling. The Emperor’s powerchair nodded back and forth, following her intense, wiry form as she paced.
«Of course it will take vast resources! And time—more than a century before we know to a first-order approximation that the initial steps are working. I’ll have to give myself up to cryosleep for decades at a time. But we have the resources! And we have the time … just barely. We can do it, if we want to.»
The Emperor said, «How can you expect me to divert half the resources of the Empire to save Earth’s Sun?»
«Because Earth is important,» she argued back, a tiny fighter standing alone in the middle of the Emperor’s study. «It’s the baseline for all the other worlds of the Empire. On Gris we send biogenetic teams to Earth every five years to check our own mutation rate. The cost is enormous for us, but we do it. We have to.»
«We can move Earth’s population to another G-type star. There are plenty of them.»
«It won’t be the same.»
«Adela, my dear, believe me, I would like to help. I know how important Earth is. But we simply cannot afford to try your scheme now. Perhaps in another hundred years or so.»
«That will be too late.»
«But new scientific advances …»
«Under Bomeer and his ilk? Hah!»
The Emperor wanted to frown at her, but somehow his face would not compose itself properly. «You are a fierce, uncompromising woman,» he said.
She came to him and dropped to her knees at his feet. «No, Sire. I’m not. I’m foolish and vain and utterly self-centered. I want to save Earth because I know I can do it. I can’t stand the thought of living the rest of my life knowing that I could have done it, but never having had the chance to try.»
Now we’re getting at the truth, the Emperor thought.
«And someday, maybe a million years from now, maybe a billion, Gris’ sun will become unstable. I want to be able to save Gris, too. And any other world whose star threatens it. I want all the Empire to know that Adela de Montgarde discovered the way to do it!»
The Emperor felt his breath rush out of him.
«Sire,» she went on, «I’m sorry if I’m speaking impolitely or stupidly. It’s just that I know we can do this thing, do it successfully, and you’re the only one who can make it happen.»
But he was barely listening. «Come with me,» he said, reaching out to grasp her slim wrists and raising her to her feet. «It’s time for the evening meal. I want you to meet my son.»
Javas put on his usual amused smile when the Emperor introduced Adela. Will nothing ever reach under his everlasting facade of polite boredom? Rihana, at least, was properly furious. He could see the anger in her face: A virtual barbarian from some frontier planet. Daughter of a petty noble. Practically a commoner. Dining with them!
«Such a young child to have such grandiose schemes,» the Princess said when she realized who Adela was.
«Surely,» said the Emperor, «you had grandiose schemes of your own when you were young, Rihana. Of course, they involved lineages and marriages rather than astrophysics, didn’t they?»
None of them smiled.
The Emperor had ordered dinner out on the terrace, under the glowing night sky of the Imperial Planet. Rihana, who was responsible for household affairs, always had sumptuous meals spread for them: the best meats and fowl and fruits of a dozen prime worlds. Adela looked bewildered by the array placed in front of her by the human servants. Such riches were obviously new to her. The Emperor ate sparingly and watched them all.
Inevitably the conversation returned to Adela’s plan to save Earth’s Sun. And Adela, subdued and timid at first, slowly turned tigress once again. She met Rihana’s scorn with coldly furious logic. She countered Javas’ skepticism with: «Of course, since it will take more than a century before the outcome of the project is proven, you will probably be the Emperor who is remembered by all the human race as the one who saved the Earth.»
Javas’ eyes widened slightly. That hit home, the Emperor noticed. For once something affected the boy. This girl should be kept at the palace.
But Rihana snapped, «Why should the Crown Prince care about saving Earth? His brother was murdered by an Earthman.»
The Emperor felt his blood turn to ice.
Adela looked panic-stricken. She turned to the Emperor, wide-eyed, open-mouthed.
«My eldest son died on Earth. My second son was killed putting down a rebellion on a frontier world, many years ago. My third son died of a viral infection that some tell me,» he stared at Rihana, «was assassination. Death is a constant companion in every royal house.»
«Three sons.» Adela seemed ready to burst into tears.
«I have not punished Earth, nor that frontier world, nor sought to find a possible assassin,» the Emperor went on, icily. «My only hope is that my last remaining son will make a good Emperor, despite his … handicaps.»
Javas turned very deliberately in his chair to stare out at the dark forest. He seemed bored by the antagonism between his wife and his father. Rihana glowered like molten steel.
The dinner ended in dismal, bitter silence. The Emperor sent them all away to their rooms while he remained on the terrace and stared hard at the stars strewn across the sky so thickly that there could be no darkness.
He closed his eyes and summoned a computer-assisted image of Earth’s Sun. He saw it coalesce from a hazy cloud of cold gas and dust, saw it turn into a star and spawn planets. Saw it beaming out energy that allowed life to grow and flourish on one of those planets. And then saw it age, blemish, erupt, swell, and finally collapse into a dark cinder.
Just as I will, thought the Emperor. The Sun and I have both reached the age where a bit of rejuvenation is needed. Otherwise … death.
He opened his eyes and looked down at his veined, fleshless, knobby hands. How different from hers! How young and vital she is.