The Moon's Shadow (11 page)

“It is a very fine name. Strong and vigorous.”

He laughed at the idea of his nickname being vigorous. “You can call me Jai.”

“Yes, Your Esteemed Glory.”

Ah, well. Give it time. He could think of worse things than being called Your Esteemed Glory by his first lover.

Jai was almost asleep when she spoke again. “Thank you for sparing me at dinner tonight. I swear I would never try to harm you.”

“I know.” He yawned. “You seemed distracted.”

“I was awed by your splendid presence.”

Jai sighed. “You don’t have to say that.”

“It is my great honor to tell you the truth.”

He knew all too well that it wasn’t the truth. “What is your name?”

She slid her palm across his chest. “Silver.”

Well, that was no surprise. “Do you like it?”

Her hand paused. “Like it?”

“Your name.”

After a moment, she said, “Yes. I like it.”

“Then I will call you Silver.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Jai.”

Mischief shaded her voice. “Yes, Your Jainess.”

“Silver!”

She laughed against his chest. “Jai.”

Smiling, he pulled her close.

So the emperor slept, and for the first time since coming to Eube, he had no nightmares.

E
SComm had become a threat.

Corbal sat in his chair, brooding. He had left Jaibriol asleep in the study down the hall, but his monitors indicated the boy had retired to his own suite. Jaibriol’s jaunt here to the Sphinx Sector Rim Base disturbed Corbal; the new emperor was proving harder to keep an eye on than Corbal had expected. What had Jaibriol thought to gain from sneaking off to the Lock and sitting in its chair?

Corbal had seen the disheartening records; nothing in the Lock had operated since ESComm had taken it from the Skolians. The ancient station was either dormant or dead. Jaibriol claimed it couldn’t awake, but Corbal wasn’t ready to believe him.

Jaibriol. A conundrum. As much as his behavior at dinner tonight had aggravated Corbal, he had to admit he rather enjoyed the boy’s audacity. But without ESComm support, Jaibriol could accomplish nothing—and Xirad Kaliga was ESComm. Only General Kryx Taratus, the other Joint Commander, had as much power within the military. General Taratus was the older brother of Azar Taratus, the idiot who had cheated Finance Minister Tarquine by selling her a dying provider for fourteen million credits.

Corbal grimaced. The current political landscape was a disaster. Taratus and Iquar were embroiled in a morass of lawsuits. Not only did Iquar want her fourteen million back, she had sued Taratus for punitive damages, both for his actions and because the provider had escaped. Taratus had countersued, claiming harassment, saying it was her problem if she couldn’t keep her provider, and that she had already filed an insurance claim for the money.

The insurance bureaus had taken action against both of them, Iquar because the security on her habitat supposedly hadn’t fulfilled the requirements specified on her policy, and Taratus for fraud. In response, Iquar had filed against the bureaus for what she claimed was a retroactive change in their policy. Further, she wanted them to pay for the other systems on her habitat that had been damaged during the provider’s escape, and for the shuttle he had stolen.

As if that wasn’t enough, Taratus had taken additional action, claiming Iquar’s intelligence systems had spied on him during the auction, compromising ESComm security. ESComm responded with an investigation of Taratus, wanting to know why he was using ESComm resources in a private auction. They were also pursuing action against Iquar for the failure of her security. And she had counterfiled against ESComm, for gods’ sake, claiming the failure was their fault because they designed the systems on her purportedly civilian habitat.

The whole business reeked. General Taratus would almost certainly align with his brother Azar. If Xirad Kaliga, the other Joint Commander, also sided with them, it would set ESComm against the Finance Ministry, putting the military in opposition to the people who controlled the flow of wealth through Eube. It could destabilize the stumbling economy, which had suffered during the war, particularly the Platinum Sectors. On the other hand, if Kaliga opposed Taratus, it would create a schism within ESComm, weakening the military, which the war had also decimated.

It was a hellacious mess.

Azar Taratus and Minister Iquar were both bringing their formidable resources and political clout to bear in the chaos created by Taratus’s hoax. The hell of it was, his actions made sense. Had Iquar been anyone else, she probably would have done what he expected, paying the fourteen million off the record and reporting a negligible price to the bureaus. Taratus would have paid taxes only on that amount, the two of them cheating both the tax and insurance collectors. Then when Iquar discovered Taratus had sold her a dying provider, what could she have done? Had she reported only a minimal price to the insurance bureaus, it would have appeared as if she received exactly what she paid for.

Why Tarquine Iquar had reported the full price, Corbal had no idea. Perhaps she knew the provider was sick but wanted him anyway. Or maybe she was too savvy to trust Taratus. Whatever the reason, she had incontrovertible proof that Taratus had committed a mammoth fraud. The bureaus had charged her an obscene amount to insure the provider—and now they had to pay up for his loss. Taratus had a monstrous tax bill. Given the immense wealth and far-reaching security considerations involved, it was no wonder everyone was suing everyone else up, down, backward, and around the sun.

Corbal blew out a gust of air. He saw no good solution. No matter what the courts ruled, it would create schisms in the structures of Highton power. He felt as if he were watching a magrail train hurtle down a mountain, out of control, and nothing he could do would stop the crash. Because he knew what was going to happen.

Yes, he knew exactly what.

They were going to drop the whole mess into Jaibriol’s lap.

The whisper of a sliding screen awoke Sunrise. “Come to bed, love,” she murmured. “Do your worrying tomorrow.”

Corbal didn’t answer. He crossed the room quietly, with consideration for the late hour. In her younger days, Sunrise hadn’t believed Aristos like him existed. But it was true. He was gentle. She had heard, through palace gossip, of one other: High Judge Calope Muze, Corbal’s first cousin and second in line for the Carnelian Throne. Sunrise had even wondered about the emperor. She had only been with him a few moments that night, and he had guarded his mind, but she had felt an odd sense of recognition. Perhaps something in the Qox line made them different from other Aristos.

Another rustle came from across the room. She rolled over in the billowy covers. “Cori? Are you—”

A hand clamped over her mouth. It happened so fast, she had no time to breathe. No!
Who was this?
An air-syringe hissed against her neck, bringing darkness…

Corbal gave a long stretch as he stood up, working out kinks in his muscles. He felt stiff more and more often now. For all that the nanomeds in his body delayed his aging, they couldn’t stop it. The years were beginning to take a toll.

He headed for bed, seeking the comfort of Sunrise’s arms. A century ago, Corbal had done his duty, married a Highton woman and sired heirs. He and his wife had lived together for twenty-five chilly years. When she had passed away, he had given her a magnificent burial. He never again had to marry, never again had to live in the vacuum of a cold Highton union. Now he wanted Sunrise.

It was dark in the bedroom, but a breeze wafted across his face. A wall screen was open, letting starlight into the room. Odd that Sunrise would leave it that way. She didn’t like to sleep in open areas. It made her feel vulnerable.

“Suni?” Sitting on the bed, Corbal reached for her. But no one lay there; the covers were piled in a heap. Puzzled, he said, “Lumos on.”

The lights activated—revealing an empty room. Corbal frowned. Sunrise wouldn’t just leave. He went to the open screen and peered into the night. “Lumos outside.”

Lights came up in the garden, bathing the flowerbeds in soft colors. It was very lovely and very empty.

He made a thorough search of the slumbering house and gardens, aided by several Razers. By the time they had verified she was neither inside nor out, his bewilderment had turned to anger. Sunrise wouldn’t disappear. Someone had taken her. But how? According to the monitors, no one had come in the room. She had gone to bed and stayed there.

Corbal expected Xirad Kaliga to be asleep, but he found the admiral in a console room, with two bodyguards and a slew of aides. A guard searched Corbal before letting him enter. Kaliga was leaning over a console, talking in staccato bursts to someone on the comm. Corbal didn’t like it; ESComm’s Joint Commander looked as if he hadn’t slept at all.

As the guard escorted Corbal to the console, Kaliga glanced up and nodded formally. “The hospitality of my household is at your service, Lord Xir.”

Corbal understood the unstated question: Why was he wandering around the house late at night instead of enjoying the charms of his concubine?

“We appreciate your hospitality,” Corbal answered. He doubted Kaliga missed his implication; a satisfied guest would offer more praise than “appreciate.”

Kaliga motioned an aide over to the console. “Lord Xir, perhaps you would join me for a late-night refreshment? One of my ships brought in an unusually fine liqueur.”

Corbal nodded, relieved. “It would be my pleasure.”

As they left the console room, Corbal said, “Your household is admirable in its work ethic.” In other words, why the blazes was everyone working at this hour?

“Rumors, my friend.” Kaliga rolled his left shoulder slightly, indicating concern. “They sprout everywhere.”

“Tales and truth are not necessarily the same.”

“No, not necessarily.” Kaliga said no more.

Corbal fell silent. He wanted to press the matter of Sunrise, but whatever troubled the admiral clearly had greater import, at least to ESComm and the empire. He discovered that right now he didn’t care a whit about the welfare of Eube.

It wasn’t until they were inside Kaliga’s study, with their guards outside, that the admiral spoke again. “It appears the Ruby Dynasty also works long hours.”

Corbal inwardly swore. Eube had enough problems without the Skolians creating yet another of the never-ending crises they precipitated simply by their onerous existence. “The Ruby Dynasty would do well to rest. It might improve their ability to think.”

Kaliga laughed dryly, with fatigue. He went to a table and poured goblets of a turquoise-hued liquid, then handed one to his guest. As Corbal swallowed, nanomeds in his lips and saliva checked the liqueur; then bioconduits in his body shunted it to a holding area, where other meds analyzed the liquid. After his security systems finished their checks, they released the liqueur. He barely noticed the pause before it continued down his throat.

He raised the goblet to Kaliga. “A fine choice.”

The admiral nodded, obviously preoccupied, and motioned Corbal to a sofa, then sunk into a wing chair himself.

Corbal settled in his chair. He was tired enough to wish he could just come out and say,
What happened with the Ruby Dynasty?

Kaliga took a swallow of liqueur. “It has a punch, eh?”

“Is it from Emerald Sector?” In truth, Emerald wasn’t known for its liqueurs. However, “punch” could refer to whatever Kaliga had learned about the Ruby Dynasty, and ESComm had major command centers in Emerald Sector.

Kaliga considered him. “So it does. It just came in tonight.” He set his goblet on a table and leaned back, closing his eyes. “A long night.”

Corbal wanted to groan with the delay. “Longer yet, if one has to deal with Ruby Dynasty machinations.”

“Or rumors of such.”

“Rumors often fall apart under scrutiny.”

The admiral lifted his head. “Unfortunately, some become even more odious.”

Corbal tried not to grit his teeth. Sunrise could be dying while they sat chatting about the infernal Skolians. “What isn’t odious about the Ruby Dynasty?”

Kaliga regarded him steadily. “Their deaths.”

Corbal paused in raising his goblet. Then he lowered it. “I take it no more of them have died, then?”

“Even worse.” Kaliga’s expression soured. “They have an uncanny ability to show up alive after we eliminate them.”

Skolia be damned. “One more is always too many.”

“One implies a single occurrence. It seems we are infested with them.”

Corbal’s grip on his goblet tightened. Did they suspect Jaibriol? Surely not. Corbal had destroyed the evidence. It wouldn’t surprise him if ESComm had stolen genetic material from Jaibriol for more analyses, but they would find only that the boy’s DNA came from his father. Corbal had arranged proof of a Highton mother who had passed away. He kept his suspicions about Jaibriol’s real mother to himself; Soz Valdoria, the Skolian Imperator, was dead now, blown to plasma, along with her inconvenient DNA.

Corbal suddenly tensed. Could Kaliga’s remarks refer to the late Imperator? Had she arisen from the dead?
Good gods.
“Infested by whom?” he asked.

At the blunt question, Kaliga raised an eyebrow. “I apologize if the nocturnal activity in my home has disturbed your sleep, Lord Xir.”

Corbal held back his grimace. Kaliga had good cause for the rebuke, and he was courteous enough to imply Corbal’s bluntness came from fatigue rather than an intended insult.

“Your hospitality is unsurpassed,” Corbal said. “Even the dawn avails herself of its freedom.” He had no doubt that Kaliga knew perfectly well providers didn’t up and avail themselves of freedom.

“An intriguing concept,” Kaliga mused, “that the sun would rise on a space station.”

“It honors your home that such a remarkable occurrence should happen here.”

Kaliga leaned forward. “I will relay your compliments to my security people immediately.”

Kaliga’s implicit promise to take immediate action in finding Sunrise relieved Corbal. While Kaliga contacted his security, Corbal checked with his own people. No sign of Sunrise had surfaced. His unease deepened; a provider couldn’t vanish from the home of Xirad Kaliga. Someone must have taken her, which meant they had penetrated security and slipped away without a trace. That implied a betrayal at high levels.