Starlight(Pact Arcanum 4) (8 page)

Rory leaned forward and gently squeezed Lorcan’s shoulder. “How long have you been home?”

Lorcan turned back to face him, unable to conceal a quick flash of guilt. “About an hour.” He looked up to meet Rory’s steady gaze. “The two of you were already pretty busy by then, and I didn’t want to disrupt your evening. I was just going to sleep in the guest room.”

Rory looked past Lorcan at the portrait he had painted from Nick’s memories of the laughing, young Irishman who had been Lorcan’s former lover, a gift for the Daywalker’s six-hundredth birthday. “Ruarc, you never have to do that. It’s your bed, too. We would have been happy for you to join us.”

Lorcan’s face grew sad. “I appreciate that, but as much as I love sharing him with you, I know you treasure the moments you have him all to yourself.”

Rory leaned forward and kissed Lorcan on the lips, sliding his arms around the Daywalker’s neck as he extended a tendril of thought to his other lover.
“When are you going to accept that Nick isn’t the only one who misses you when you’re not there?”

Lorcan wrapped his arms loosely around Rory’s back.
“We were just supposed to be partners for Nick’s sake,”
he thought.
“I never planned for us to be anything more.”

Rory broke the kiss and laid his head down on Lorcan’s shoulder. “It’s been almost sixty years,” he said. “You’re as much a part of my heart as Nick is.”

Lorcan sighed in contentment, and Rory felt him relax. “I know. It scares me sometimes, how much I love you both.”

Rory nipped Lorcan’s neck lightly with his fangs. “Then stop acting like Nick and I deserve special treatment. He’s your mate, Ruarc, and so am I.” He stood up, pulling free from Lorcan’s arms, and held his hand out to the Daywalker. “Now come to bed. You know how he gets when he wakes up and you’re not there.”

Lorcan took his hand and smiled as he got to his feet. “We can’t have that, now.”

“Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll join you in a minute.”

Lorcan nodded, and walked into the hallway, slipping his suit jacket off his shoulders.

Rory looked at the pictures on the wall again, finding a portrait of Nick’s mortal family taken before Toby’s wedding. He subvocalized to his AI. “He’s right, you know. It will be nice to be able to talk to Antonio in the flesh. I know Layla has been looking forward to seeing him again for years.”

“So have I,” answered Revenant in his ears.

“It’s been a century. Have you given any thought to my suggestion?”

“I can’t tell them, Rory. I just can’t.”

Rory sighed. “I think you’re taking honor too far. Just because you promised to keep your existence a secret—”

“It’s not that,” said Revenant.

Rory cocked his head as he regarded the image of Toby and Layla, arm in arm. “What then? You know how much it would mean to Nick and Layla to be able to talk to you again, not to mention Antonio.”

“That’s just it, Rory. I am not Tobias Jameson. He’s dead. I was created to be a shadow of what he was, and I’ve had a long time to become my own person. I can’t offer them false hope by telling him that he survived. I made that decision as soon as the Nexus created me, and I won’t change my mind now.”

Rory took a deep breath and let it out. “All right. We’ll play it your way, but when they finally find out, they’re going to be pissed.”

“They won’t find out.”

Rory snorted. “Nothing stays secret forever. You should know that by now.”

“There’s no one left alive beside you and the Nexus who knows where I came from. I want to keep it that way.”

Lorcan moaned loudly from the next room.
I guess sleep is overrated.

The AI laughed. “It sounds like you’re missing the party. You’d better get in there and take care of business.”

“Very funny,” said Rory. “This isn’t over, Revenant.” Then he walked out of the study, back toward the bedroom.

“Nothing ever is,” answered the AI.

C
HAPTER 13

September 2141; Jumpvessel
Singularity
, interstellar void; two years later

Antonio Jameson stretched out in bed and looked at the window, watching the stars that were still visible through the coruscating glow of recursion drive. He was fit without being muscular, the bronze of his skin highlighting his shoulder-length, white hair. At ninety-nine years old, he looked like he was in his mid-twenties. His aging had slowed to a crawl since he reached physical maturity, gaining only a year over the course of each decade. Which was a plus, given the nine years of travel time between Chiron colony and the Solar system.

I don’t know how the Sentinels and humans can stand to emigrate either way, given their brief lifetimes.
Armistice scientists were still working on the technology to put the mortal colonists in stasis for the length of the trip, but so far, the power demands of maintaining a temporal ward on top of environment and propulsion for that length of time remained prohibitive.

In the meantime, Antonio was the leader of a miniature city in flight, completely self-sufficient, and home to over thirty thousand inhabitants. During the flight, the entire population operated as members of the crew, and they all answered to him: human, Sentinel and Daywalker alike. There were no Nightwalkers, of course. The Children of Darkness were always denied passage out of the Solar system, in order to facilitate the Great Work.

Besides, it would have been too much of a burden on their fragile ecosystem to maintain a supply of bloodwine to feed them.
It’s hard enough to keep up the rations for the Daywalkers, and they need to feed only once a month.

His own physical need for blood was even more limited, being more recreational than required, so he restricted himself to a small bottle on special occasions. He was a bit of a lightweight, though, and the indulgence always gave him a hangover the next day. Today was no exception.

He climbed out of bed and stumbled to the small washroom. He dug some painkillers out of the medicine cabinet and swallowed them dry. Then he splashed some water on his face and checked the virtual clock hovering to the side of the mirror.
Ten minutes.
He considered shaving, but decided not to bother.
They probably won’t even notice.

It was a juggling act to keep all the elements balanced, allowing the community to function smoothly, but Antonio found it immensely satisfying. He always felt a letdown whenever he reached the terminus of one of his journeys and the passengers dispersed to their final destinations. Many of them kept in touch afterward, however, allowing him to maintain that sense of connection to the miniature societies he had fostered.

This had been a good trip. Everything had run like clockwork for the last eight years. The surprises had been mostly pleasant ones, such as the Child of Starlight that had been born to one of the shipboard unions that inevitably sprung up in transit. There were still only a few dozen of his race in existence, and Antonio had made a point of meeting them all personally as their informal patriarch. Given the travel schedule he kept, he had never been there for the early years of one of his people’s lives, and this was a rare opportunity to experience his childhood again from another perspective. On top of that, it meant that there was another Fourth Order telepath on this voyage to keep him company.

On a whim, he extended his senses and touched the mind of his six-year-old godson, and found him playing with a toy spaceship in the aeroponics bay on deck seventeen. It was refreshing to see the boy acting his age. Most of the Children of Starlight reached intellectual and emotional maturity at an accelerated rate far in advance of their physical development.
“Good morning, Brad.”

The other telepath looked up and smiled
. “Morning, Captain. Enjoying your day off?”

“I’m still trying to decide how to spend it.”

“Well, do something fun! You’re always working so hard. It’s a wonder your hair doesn’t turn white.”

“Very funny. I could say the same thing to you, but I happen to know you
never
do any work, and your hair’s as white as mine.”

The Harbinger child laughed.
“Hey, it’s Tenth-day. I don’t have to be in school. Want to go for a run?”

Antonio walked back into his bedroom and glanced at the virtual screen of the clock on his desk. It projected the time and date in both Solar and Centauri time, though they kept to the ten-day Centauri week on board ship.
“I can’t right now, buddy. I’m expecting a call in a few minutes, and I can’t miss it.”

“Okay. Happy birthday, Tony
.” The younger telepath broke the connection.

Antonio looked at the clock again and sighed. Then he walked to the dresser and pulled a threadbare tunic out of a drawer, colored Daywalker white with the collar dyed Spacer green. It had accompanied him on his last trip, and was one of his favorites. He put it on over his sleeping pants, just as a soft tone sounded in his cabin. “Incoming personal message from the Citadel, Antonio,” said his AI. “Shall I put it through to your office?”

Antonio stepped to his desk and dropped into a chair. “Here will be great, Pathfinder. Thanks.”

“Stand by.”

The room glowed white as the immersive virtual environment engaged, and then he was sitting on a stone bench in the carefully maintained forest setting of the Citadel Arboretum. Two figures stood waiting for him in the dappled, artificial sunlight that filtered through the trees: an African woman in a long, white dress, and a blond man dressed in a dark-blue suit. They both carried themselves with confidence, comfortable in their authority. “Evening, Mother. Uncle Nicholas. How are you today?”

Nick snorted at the sight of Antonio’s casual dress and tousled hair. “Tony, you look like you just got out of bed.”

“That’s very perceptive of you, Uncle.” Antonio gave them an exaggerated yawn.

Layla smiled in amusement. “I trust you don’t wander the decks like that.”

Antonio grinned. “Don’t worry, Mother. I always comport myself with proper dignity and decorum among the crew. Unless I’ve been drinking. Then all bets are off.”

Nick laughed aloud. “It’s good to see you again, Tony.”

Antonio’s mood sobered, a note of seriousness threading into his voice. “It’s good to see you, too. If it didn’t require so much power to maintain a real-time videolink at this distance, maybe we could do this more often.”

Layla sat beside him on the bench. “It’s your calling, son. We understand the limitations of your ship’s systems. Thank you for taking the time to write every month. And we’ll be able to see you in person next year.”

Nick nodded. “Any idea how long you’ll be staying this time?”

“At least four months for refit of critical systems, and then I’ll have to interview new key crew members once the upgraded systems are in place.” Antonio hesitated. “I’ll be there for your anniversaries.”

Nick squeezed Layla’s shoulder. “Thank you, Antonio,” he said softly. “We both appreciate that.”

The three of them were silent for a time, lost in their memories.

“Almost a century,” she said eventually. “I still miss him.”

“Both of them,” said Nick. He sighed. “At least I had a lifetime with Jeremy.”

Layla turned her head to look into the shifting hues of her son’s eyes. “There is much of Tobias in you, Antonio. You have the same sincerity, the same honest joy in living. I wish we could spend more time together. It makes the world seem less empty when I hear your voice.”

Antonio swallowed nervously, as he reached up to stroke the filigreed, gold cross at his throat. “Mother, we’ve been through this.”

She looked away. “I know, and I apologize. I would never ask you to sacrifice your dreams for the sake of mine. That would only serve to hurt both of us. It doesn’t stop me from missing you during your flights, however.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I make it dirtside, Mother. I promise. I’ll need to bring the ship to Hephaestus Station to offload passengers before the refit. We can meet then.”

“We look forward to it,” Nick said. He glanced at the antique, mechanical watch on his wrist. “We’re going to have to cut this short, Tony.”

Antonio blinked. “What? We still have another couple of minutes before the comm array needs to power down.”

Layla stood from the bench. “It was lovely to speak to you again, son. We just wanted to make a little time for a friend.”

Nick and Layla walked away as Antonio watched in confusion.

“Hello, Tony.”

Antonio jerked his head to the side, his eyes shifting color to a vivid blue as he saw the other speaker, a tall man with Spanish features, dressed in a green flight suit. He looked like he had just walked out of the cockpit and, all things considered, he probably had. “Raf!”

Rafael smiled as he stepped off the teleport gateway. “It’s been a long time since we were able to talk face-to-face. Your mother has been pleased with my service—it seems, to yield to me the last minute of her time.”

Antonio stood and walked closer. “It’s good to see you again.” He grinned widely. “What have you been up to?”

Rafael shrugged. “The usual. My duties as Primogenitor Curallorn keep me busy. What little free time I have is taken up with teaching. There are always new cadets at the Academy who couldn’t get a feel for flying if they jumped off one of the towers. The other instructors like to send me their problem students. I always enjoy a challenge.”

“Like with me?” Antonio laughed. “I remember the first time you let me take the controls of the
Starlight
, after I was promoted to Third-Stage Cadet. Ten minutes and you declared you would have to start all over again just to break my bad habits.”

Rafael grinned. “You had the science down, Tony. I just had to teach you the art.”

“So…” said Antonio, staring at his mentor speculatively. “Still single?”

Rafael groaned. “Oh no, don’t start this again. You can’t seriously try to fix me up from half a light year away.”