Heart of the Nebula (14 page)

“
I hate you, James!” she
screamed, grabbing at the bedspread as if to tear it apart. “I
hate, hate,
hate
you!”

Chapter 7

James walked down the broad, well-lit
terminal of the station’s spaceport. Traffic was sparse, and
black-clad Hameji soldiers were everywhere. Visors covered their
eyes, and most of them carried heavy assault rifles in hand.
Without his own firearm—guns were forbidden, so as to not provoke
the Hameji—James felt as if he were naked.

The conference was just
getting started, and a constant stream of delegates was headed
toward the convention center connected to the spaceport. But Lars
was holding the preliminary meetings on board the
Freedom Star,
on
suspicion that the convention center was bugged. All of the guests
had checked out, and Sterling was handling security on board the
ship, so that gave James the freedom to step out.

He passed out of the terminal and into the
crowded central concourse of the station. The overhead skylights
offered a magnificent view of Gaia Nova, but that was where the
extravagance ended. Most of the storefront properties were empty or
caged up. Several merchants had set up shop in front of the vacant
properties, giving a superficial sense of bustling activity, but
most of their wares were trinkets: secondhand clothes, fake leather
handbags, and contraband datachips. The unappetizing smell of
roasting synthetic sausage wafted on the stale breeze, probably
from a cheap food stand. Though the place was clean enough, the
locals wore old and faded clothes, their faces gaunt with sunken
eyes and creases about their foreheads. Beggars gathered around the
curb at intersection points, never completely out of sight.

This is a society under
occupation,
James thought to
himself.
There is no freedom
here.

The convention center straddled a main hub,
vendors and merchants selling their wares from ragged blankets
spread out just in front of it. An armed guard stood watch at the
front door as the delegates crowded in.

The Hameji want us to feel
their authority,
James thought as he joined
the delegates.
They want us to remember
who’s in charge.

The lobby of the conference hall was a
little less crowded than the concourse, but not by much. James
stepped into a green marble foyer with plush white couches and a
brilliant crystal chandelier. A fountain sat in the center, but it
was conspicuously dry, and the furniture around it was starting to
fade. Old wealth—artifacts of a dead empire.

No longer than a minute after James entered
the foyer, the elevator to his right hissed open, and a squad of
Hameji guards stepped out.

“
McCoy!”

James stared at the Hameji, his hair
bristling. They were heavily armed, but the young boy they escorted
carried only a light handgun holstered on his waist. He wore the
austere gray uniform of a Hameji officer, with a sash that denoted
his rank. It looked strange on him, since he couldn’t have been
more than twelve years old. The top of his head only came about
midway up James’s chest. Even so, the guards showed him as much
deference as a general.

“
You must be Jahan,” said
James, his eyes never leaving the boy’s.

Jahan folded his arms across his chest and
scowled, as if to make himself look older. “I take you to Sholpan,”
he said. Without another word, he spun on his heel. James followed
in silence, flanked by the Hameji guards.

* * * * *

Sholpan’s suite lay far below the main
level, in a section set apart exclusively for the Hameji. Dozens of
black-clad soldiers passed them on the way, almost a full platoon.
At the door, the armed guard stopped and patted him down before
letting him enter.

James held his breath as the door hissed
open. As the boy officer led him in, he fidgeted nervously with his
hands.

“
Ah, hello, Master Jahan.
Have you brought—?”

Sholpan drew silent as James stepped inside.
A lump rose in his throat as his eyes met his sister’s.

She stood at the center of the room, wearing
a long, gold-embroidered white dress. Her flowing brown hair was
tied back in a single braid stretching almost to her waist.
Although her eyes seemed familiar, the lines on her face showed
that she was a grown woman now.

“
James!” she cried, running
forward to give him a warm hug. As they embraced, the sweet smell
of Auriga Novan fragrances filled his nose, nearly making him
swoon.

Jahan spoke in a language that James didn’t
understand, and Sholpan answered. The boy bowed, then turned and
left them.

“
Oh, James,” she said,
smiling radiantly. “It’s so good to see you again!”

“
And you too,
Stella.”

Her smile fell somewhat. “Please don’t call
me that—you know I’m one of the Hameji now.”

“
I know,” he said softly,
“but you’ll always be my sister.”

“
And you my brother. How is
everything back home?”

He sighed. “Not well, I’m afraid. Once you
left, Prince Juta tripled our annual tribute and put down a number
of insurrections in the larger settlements. We’ve been forced to
import almost all our food and medicines from the outer planets,
but piracy runs rampant and our forces aren’t strong enough to root
them out. We’ve petitioned Juta for assistance, but outside of the
tribute, he barely seems to acknowledge our existence.”

Sholpan nodded, her eyes sad. “I’m sorry to
hear that. The Hameji are too busy with their endless wars to pay
much attention to the needs of their subjects. I’ll do what I can,
but I can’t promise anything.”

“
Their wars,” said James,
clenching his fists and turning his head away. “Haven’t they
conquered enough already? What more is there to fight
for?”

“
You’d be surprised. A
united federation has coalesced in the galactic south, concentrated
around New Vela. With the way the nebulae are arrayed, the Hameji
have no choice but to attack them there. But the Council of
Generals is fracturing, and there’s a lot of disagreement over who
should lead once they’re gone. In fact, that’s what I was hoping to
tell you about.”

“
Oh?”

“
I just received word this
upshift that General Tagatai’s fleet has arrived in the system,”
she said. “He’s the leader of a particularly aggressive faction in
the hierarchy. I pulled a lot of strings to make this conference
possible, but…” Her voice trailed off.

James frowned. “But what?”

She looked up at him with frightened eyes.
“I think I might have put you all in terrible danger.”

“
Danger? What do you
mean?”

“
When it comes to the
occupied systems, there are two camps,” she explained. “On the one
side are those who think that governing is a nuisance, and that the
conquered peoples should be given enough autonomy to govern
themselves. Qasar falls squarely into that camp, as do most of the
Generals. To them, this conference isn’t a threat so much as it is
a chance to delegate their power and focus on more important
things.”

“
And the other
camp?”

“
The other camp sees any
attempt at collective organization as a threat, and believes that
the collaborators should be punished as severely as
possible.”

“
And I take it this Tagatai
is in that camp?”

“
That’s right. He’s part of
a movement within the hierarchy that wants to consolidate the newly
won territory into an empire—one in which the Hameji rule with an
iron fist.”

“
So what will they do about
the conference?”

“
I honestly don’t know,”
said Sholpan. “The politics are complicated, because Qasar and
Tagatai are cousins. I’ll try to prevail on him to stand firm by
his decision to permit it, but if Tagatai forces him to stand down,
things could get ugly—fast.”

James nodded, his expression grim. “We’d
better sync our wrist consoles, then.”

“
That’s exactly what I was
thinking. Here, let me see yours.”

They held their wrists together, so that the
consoles were almost touching. It took a second for them to read
each other, but when they did, the screens blinked green,
indicating that they were properly synced.

“
Will the Hameji be able to
trace this link through the network?” James asked.

Sholpan shook her head. “I doubt they’ll go
to the trouble. Even if they do, I’m Qasar’s wife, so I have
immunity.”

“
Right.”

“
There’s one other thing,”
she said. “It won’t be easy for you to hear, but—”

“
But what?”

She swallowed and paused for a moment,
looking up at him with her large, round eyes.

“
With the way the wars are
going, Qasar wants to join his fleet with the main campaign. It’s
all he ever talks about. Just recently, we heard that one of the
Generals has died, and now Qasar’s doing everything he can to make
sure he’s picked to fill the vacancy.”

“
I’m sure nothing will come
of it,” said James, a lump rising in his throat. “He’s the one in
charge of Gaia Nova, after all.”

“
You don’t understand,”
said Sholpan. “In the hierarchy, assignments are given preference
by seniority. Right now, Qasar ranks almost as high as the Generals
themselves. This time, it’s almost certain that he’ll get his
way.”

James’s hands began to tremble. He folded
his arms to try to hide it, but his lip began to quiver, and he had
to look away.

“
I’ve missed you all these
years, James.”

“
Me, too.”

“
This might be the last
time we see each other. Even if I survive—”

“
Of course you’ll survive,”
said James. “You’ve lived through worse, haven’t you? We both
have.”

She looked him in the eye and smiled. In
that moment, she looked more like the sister he remembered. The
makeup, the hair, the ornate dress and thick scent of Hameji
fragrance—none of that could disguise her. It opened a bitter wound
in his heart, and he had to bite his lip to keep the tears from
flooding out.

The wailing of a young child in the other
room distracted them both. “Oh,” said Sholpan, “Abie is awake.” She
rose to her feet and walked to the door. “Here, Abie! That’s a good
boy.”

James’s stomach fell as she came out with a
young toddler, no older than three or four. He had the black hair
and wide face of the Hameji, but his skin was fair, like his
mother’s. He waddled up to the couch, sucking his thumb and staring
at James with bold curiosity.

“
Who is that, Abie?”
Sholpan said in a mothering voice. “That’s Uncle James!”

James tried to smile, but when he reached
out with his hand, the young boy ran back to his mother in
fright.

“
Sorry,” Sholpan chuckled.
“He can be a little shy sometimes.”

“
Of course.”

“
Isn’t he cute?”

“
Of course he is. He’s
beautiful.”

For a Hameji.

She tried to smile, but when she looked at
him, her face fell in spite of herself. “I don’t want to think of
what he’ll be when he grows up, but right now he’s all that I
have.”

James nodded, unsure what to say.

“
I’m sure you’ve got
business to attend to,” she said, lifting her son to her hip. “I
hope I haven’t kept you.”

“
No,” James whispered. “Not
at all.”

They hugged as they said
their goodbyes, Abaqa cooing between them.
He is a beautiful boy,
James thought
to himself as he rubbed his nephew’s head. As for the father, James
hoped he never met him.

As the door hissed shut behind him, though,
he spun on his heel and walked off down the corridor as fast as his
legs would take him. If not for the guards behind him, he would
have pounded his fist against the bulkhead and screamed.

* * * * *

Sara walked purposefully
through the bustling foyer of the conference hall and out to the
main station concourse. With the delegates still trickling in and
the conference not scheduled to start until the next dayshift, no
one would miss her if she snuck out for an hour or two. And with
Ensign Jones on the
Freedom Star
and James meeting with his sister, it was just the
opportunity she needed.

The Goldenstar
Cafe,
she thought as she scanned the
abandoned properties and hole-in-the-wall bars and shops that
ringed the concourse. Graffiti covered the walls in places, and a
few ragged beggars huddled in an unused passageway. She skirted
around them by a wide margin, keeping herself among the merchants
with their wares spread out across the floor. The cacophony of
hundreds of people bartering and arguing with each other shielded
her almost as effectively as the crowd itself hid her from view.
She slipped through it without anyone even noticing her.

At length, she found an old, peeling sign
pasted against a wall with an arrow for the Goldenstar Cafe. It
pointed through a dimly lit passageway. Sara glanced over her
shoulder before she stepped quickly through. Inside, it branched
out into three sub-corridors, only one of which was lit. A grizzled
old man walked past her, and she held her breath against the stink
of sweat and cigarettes.