One's Aspect to the Sun (25 page)

She was exquisitely dressed, in a sweeping emerald dress of organic velvet trimmed with spun gold brocade. A tall collar studded with tiny sparkling sunrubies and moonpearls framed her face and reached high above the mass of auburn curls looped and twisted artfully on top of her head. She was stunningly beautiful. She entered the room confidently, gracefully, a little smile on her lips, then halted her steps to look around at the sudden and unexpected quiet.

My heart pounded once, then felt as if it paused in mid-beat as the moment stretched into eternity.

She was me.

I heard Hirin's sharp intake of breath as if it came from very far away, felt Maja's hand touch my arm. With agonizing slowness, the woman's quizzical gaze swept the room, landing on each face in turn, until it came to us.

To me.

All the speed that had been drawn from the moment came back in a rush. The woman's hand flew to her throat and she took a step forward, mouthing a name.

Luta.

Then she crumpled silently into a heap on the gently pulsing lumistone floor, and the room erupted into chaos around her.

Chapter Fourteen

I don't know if Chairman Buig ever had a stir like that at one of his salons before, but I doubt it. As my mother collapsed, the noise level in the room swelled from a moment of stunned silence to at least double what it had been. Buig himself actually
ran
the length of the room to get to her, but Yuskeya, bless her, was there first, and had Mother's head resting comfortably on a pillow she'd swiped from somewhere before Buig ordered her out of the way.

For myself, I was rooted to the spot, feeling like I'd swung off the safe side of the Split into a soft grey nothingness. There was no exultation at the conclusion of my fifty-year quest, no feeling of relief or disbelief or even satisfaction. It was as if the world had dropped out from under my feet and left me hanging in space without an EVA suit. I simply didn't know what to feel. The only things that seemed real were the presences of Hirin and Maja beside me.

There was no shortage of doctors in the room, and Dr. Ndasa was there as well. His presence gave the scene an even more surreal feeling—he'd travelled all this way to find her, and here he was, having to minister to her only moments after her appearance. In short order Mother was conscious again, although so pale it seemed you could see through her skin. As soon as she was back on her feet Buig took her arm, gestured for us to follow with a peremptory jerk of his head, and led her from the room through another door. The stares of the other salon attendees were no longer guarded or covert, but open and unabashed. I held my head high and walked beside Hirin, with Maja still gripping my other arm tightly. My breath came in short gasps. I couldn't seem to fill my lungs. I heard Hirin tell Dr. Ndasa to come with us, but his voice seemed to come from a long way off.

The room beyond the door was a small sitting-room, and as soon as the door closed behind us my mother let go of Buig's arm, turned to me, and held out her arms. Her hands trembled like leaves in a windstorm, but when I stepped into her embrace the shaking stopped and she held me as if she meant never to let me go.

I don't know what effect tears have on organic velvet, but mine flowed freely onto her collar.

“Remarkable,” Chairman Buig said in a low voice. “They must be twins. I could hardly believe my eyes when she walked into the ballroom. Demmar, you never told me!”

No-one answered him because, stupidly, we hadn't rehearsed any story to tell if we actually found her. I guess after so long, I hadn't really expected it. I hoped, but I had long ago given up on expectations.

She recovered more quickly than I did, holding me off at arm's length and studying me, but speaking absently to the Chairman. “I'm sorry to have caused such a scene, Gusain. It's a long time—a very long time—since Luta and I have seen each other.”

There was still a little part of me taking notes, and it spoke volumes that they used each others' first names so easily. I wondered if all his researchers were that informal.

“You must have known I was here?” The question was casual, but the intensity of her eyes locked on mine revealed its importance.

“I'd heard a rumour.” I was surprised at how normal my voice sounded. I smiled. “And I had a job in the vicinity anyway.”

She laughed then, a sound I remembered with a sharp pang of joy and pain intermingled. She hugged me again. “Well, as long as you didn't go out of your way!”

Chairman Buig cleared his throat. “Well, Demmar, if everything is all right?”

“I'm fine now. Go on back to your guests. Do you mind if we take a little time . . .?”

“No, no, that's fine. Stay here as long as you wish.” He chuckled. “I'll go and see if I can stop the rumour mills from grinding.”

“Good luck with that,” Hirin murmured as the Chairman left. Through the open door, we glimpsed huddled knots of people in the throes of wild conjecture.

When the door closed behind him Mother's composure slipped again. “Luta, can it really be you?” Her voice was harsh with tears that I suspected she'd been holding back too long to cry even now.

I squeezed her hand. “It's really me. These are my friends—my crew—and my family. They. . . know a lot.”

She glanced around at the others. “If you trust them, I trust them,” she said finally.

“This,” I added, pulling Hirin forward, “this is my husband, Hirin Paixon.”

He swept as low a bow as he could manage. “I am as honoured as I could be to finally meet you,” he said.

Her eyes filled with tears then. “Oh, Luta, I'm so sorry! No, I mean. . . Hirin, I'm so pleased to meet you. . . I knew, of course. . . how it must be. . . it's just—I've made things hard for you both, impossible, I know that—”

He shook his head and slipped an arm around me. “Please. It's been my profound pleasure and honour to be married to Luta,” he said elegantly. “I would not trade one moment of our life together. I want you to believe that.”

She smiled through her tears. “Oh, I do. I can see it in your eyes. Thank you, Hirin.”

“And this is our daughter, Maja.” She was still a quiet presence just behind me. “Your granddaughter.”

Maja smiled and nodded reservedly to Mother. It was hard to reconcile the relationship between them, looking at the two together. Now that I had seen her at closer range, Mother did look older than I did—a gathering of fine wrinkles hemmed her eyes, and her hands showed the rigours of time more than mine—but she'd been older when she'd done . . . whatever she'd done. She and Maja could have been of an age. Maja might even have been the older of the two, and speaking the words made it absurdly obvious.

“Maja, I can't believe I'm meeting you at last. My beautiful granddaughter! I knew about you and Karro, naturally,” Mother said, eyes still glistening. “I'm sorry I had to watch from the shadows, but please believe that it wasn't because I wasn't interested in my family.”

Maja seemed to be searching for a way to respond, so I came to her rescue.

“Here's someone else who has travelled a long way just to meet you,” I said, turning to find Dr. Ndasa. He'd retreated to the back of the room, behind everyone else. He seemed pale—or the Vilisian equivalent of pale, a sickly greyish cast replacing the usual pink undertones of his skin. I stepped toward him, hand outstretched. His scent, when I caught it, was a jumble that I couldn't sort out, but he said nothing.

“As you might have guessed, Dr. Ndasa, Demmar and I are related.”

He looked at me intently, the amber skin around his eyes crinkling. “So, Captain, all this time, while we were travelling—you knew who she was . . .?”

I smiled and shook my head. “No. I hoped, and I suspected. But I didn't know. In fact, I have you to thank.”

“You, too, were searching for her.” He shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear it, and swallowed with an audible gulp. I caught a breath of the anxious grapefruit-like scent that had clung to him on the bridge just before his first wormhole skip. “This is—not what I expected.”

Mother made the Vilisian greeting gesture in a fluid motion and said, “I'm very pleased to meet you, Doctor.”

“It is a very great pleasure to meet you,
Sinjorino
Holsey,” he said valiantly as he returned the gesture. “I—I . . . oh, dear, this is awkward.” Unexpectedly he slumped down into a chair that was fortuitously behind him and dropped his head into his hands.

There was a brief silence. I felt the crew go into alert mode. Don't ask me how I knew, but I knew. I dropped to my knees beside the Vilisian. “What is it? What's wrong?”

I glanced up at Mother. Alarm had spread visibly across her face. Dr. Ndasa didn't move. I put a hand on his arm and shook him a little.

“Dr. Ndasa, what's wrong? You have to tell me.” I used my captain's voice. “That's an order.”

He sat up then, and heaved a sigh. “I have a message for Doctor Holsey,” he said quietly. “But under another name, which I'm . . . not sure I should mention here.” He glanced around the room and gulped again. The grapefruit smell was almost overpowering now.

“A message? From whom?” Mother's voice was harsh.

“PrimeCorp?” I could barely say the word.

“From the Schulyer Group,” Dr. Ndasa said, barely above a whisper. The Vilisian didn't look up at me. He smelled damp and cold, like wet earth. Viss quietly moved to stand behind the Vilisian's chair.

“Dr. Ndasa.” I waited, but he didn't look up. “Does the Schulyer Group know where we are right now?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, keeping his gaze fixed on the tabletop. “But they're not coming here. No-one from Schulyer is following us,” he added quickly.

“You're sure about that?”

He nodded.

“What about PrimeCorp?”

“I have nothing to do with them.”

I could tell Viss was resisting the urge to shake him. “You said you had a message for Doctor Holsey?”

The Vilisian heaved a great sigh and finally lifted his head. He spoke when he found Mother, perched uneasily on the edge of one of the brocaded armchairs. “I have a message,” he said, “for Doctor Emmage Mahane. I was shown a holo,” he glanced back to me, “although as it turned out that wasn't really necessary.”

So that explained why he'd looked so startled at seeing me, the odd stares I'd occasionally catch. Not an alien thing at all. A curiosity thing.

“I did not realize that you were unaware of her presence here,” he said, his curious violet eyes sorrowful. “I now feel that I have betrayed your hospitality.”

“Deliver your message,” Mother said coldly. She sat back in the chair and folded her arms across her chest. “This is all I needed, another corp tailing me everywhere I go.”

Dr. Ndasa shook his head vehemently, his dark braid swinging. “No, no, please, it isn't like that. I'm here to ask for your help, nothing more.”

Mother narrowed her eyes at him. “Go ahead.”

“The Schulyer Group has been developing a new anti-aging technology for twenty years,” he said. The words came in a rush now, as if he were tired of holding them in. “It's similar to Longate, but yes, they've solved the problems Longate caused. They bought out all of Nicadico's research years ago so they could see where Longate went wrong. They're certain their basic data is sound,” he added emphatically, perhaps because Mother had already begun to shake her head. “But there have been . . . incidents.”

“Incidents? So perhaps the data is not as sound as you think.”

The Vilisian tilted his head to one side. “No, that is not what I mean. They believe someone—I’m certain you can guess who they suspect—has been sabotaging their efforts. Subtly altering data. Interfering with samples. Trying to access classified data, although we do not think they have been successful. They would like to have their work—especially the groundwork—verified by a trustworthy outside source, by someone who has been working in this field longer than anyone else. By you, Dr. Mahane.”

“How did they find me?” Mother wanted to know.

Dr. Ndasa waggled his shoulders in the Vilisian equivalent of a shrug. “They did not tell me that, only who you were and why it was important to find you.”

“And why did they send you, in particular?” She regarded him with narrowed eyes.

He flushed, his skin darkening from amber to ochre. “Perhaps because they knew that once I knew about you, I would have to meet you. I share your obsession, Dr. Mahane, and I've made no secret of that. And perhaps because I am so very . . . non-threatening.” He twisted a tentative half-smile at her, then grew serious again. “Please, Doctor, I don't have to tell you how important this could be. I know you already understand.”

“Only too well.” Mother sighed and turned to me. “Luta, I assume you were not privy to Schulyer Group's machinations?”

I couldn't read her voice. An outraged protest rose to my lips but I didn't speak the words. How could she know anything about me, really, after all this time? Could I blame her for being suspicious?