Across A Star-Swept Sea Part 24

In his grandmother's diaries, there had been points where she'd written, late in life, about her attempts to trace the genetic ancestry of those regs who seemed most affected by DAR. Since the side effect was still relatively new by the time of her death, she hadn't had a large enough sample size to test her hypothesis, but she had postulated that there was a genetic basis to natural regularity and that those whose family lines had achieved it by the time of the curea"even if individuals hadn't themselvesa"were less likely to develop DAR.

Justen, coming into the research a few generations later, was able to follow family backgrounds further and determine not only that his grandmother was correct but also how much more likely a reg was to develop DAR if, at the time of the cure, his or her ancestors had no siblings or cousins who were natural regs.

But if DAR susceptibility had some basis in the genetic predisposition of its victims toward naturally remaining Reduced, what would it mean for someone like Tomorrow? Someone his age, who was probably three or four or more generations younger than any Reduced that New Pacifica had ever seen?

Wasn't it far more likely that this Reduced girl had siblings or cousins who were natural regs than it had been at the time of the cure? Regularity grew, generation by generation. Even at the beginning of Persistence Helo's research, she'd mapped out a timeline, based on population and reproduction patterns, for a natural end of the Reduction. She just hadn't wanted to wait that long. But here was Tomorrow, much farther down the line. What possibilities lay in her genetic code? What would happen if Persistence Helo were doing the same research now, using Tomorrow as a model of a Reduced of her generation? Might Ro's descendants be immune to DAR completely?

And if so, might Justen be able to figure out how, and apply it to his own people?

As always, time blurred into a series of brain models, numbers, notes, and chemical equations. For a while, everything else was forgotten. He didn't even hear the voices on the lanai outside the sitting room where he was working. And he certainly didn't see when a figure entered the room at his back.

"It's nice to see you working so hard. I was afraid when you'd come to Albion you'd given up the use of your brain entirely."

The sound of Vania's voice snapped him out of his focus. He looked up to see her standing right behind him, her long hair drawn back in dark tail over her shoulder, her black military jacket and trousers looking out of place against the Blakes' bright furnis.h.i.+ngs.

"What are you doing here, Vania? I thought we'd said all we needed to last time."

"If we hadn't, your striking me from the Scintillans approved guest list certainly got the message across."

"All evidence to the contrary." He tapped his fingers against the oblets to hide the displays. How long had she been standing there? How much had she seen? "As you're here."

"Yes, but not as your guest." She nodded to the terrace. "I made some new friends this afternoon. Nice people, if a bit a strange."

Justen craned his neck. Andromeda and Tomorrow were on the lanai, looking disheveled and confused. Justen understood the feeling. All this time everyone had been worried about the two missing visitors, they'd been off with Vania? What was his old friend up to?

"Where is everyone?" Andromeda called in to him.

"They're out looking for you. They even took the gliders."

"What?" Andromeda exclaimed angrily. "Malakai let Elliot use my glider?" She took off, Ro hot on her heels. Justen sighed, crossed to the nearest wallport, and sent out a barrage of messages to Persis, Isla, and Tero that the missing visitors were home. With any luck, Persis would find a way to flag down the other two.

He turned back to find Vania sneaking a peek at one of the oblets.

"Get away from that."

With a flourish of her hand, she made the files spin above the oblet's base. The smile on her face was keen and cunning. "What secrets you've been keeping, Justen! People from elsewhere. Natural Reduced. Flying machines a" She pa.s.sed her fingers through the oblet's display. "Anything else I should know?"

He pushed past her and shut the machine's display down again. "I don't think you should know as much as you already do."

"So arrogant. I suppose you think like an aristo, now that you're such good friends with them. You think you and your pretty, stupid aristo and your pretty, stupid princess all deserve knowledge about the world that no one else is allowed to have. Is that why these visitors are being hidden away up here? Do you honestly believe that's why they came to New Pacifica in the first place? To be imprisoned in your girlfriend's gilded cage?"

Justen grimaced. He didn't need Vania putting voice to all the thoughts in his head. "It's a temporary situation." He'd never once made the argument that Isla's actions were faultless. But temporary discretion was not the same as imprisonment. She'd requested that the visitors wait, which they were happy to do for a day or two, until their friends arrived on their s.h.i.+p. And they were free to goa"as Andromeda had just proved.

Vania was still talking. "Captain Andromeda Phoenixa"next to her most fascinating namea"has the most remarkable impression of our homeland, Justen. She's been told it's a vile place, full of danger and destruction. Wherever would she have gotten that idea?"

Justen shrugged in response. "Honestly, Vania, I don't have much to do with what the visitors are and are not told. I'm merely a guest here, like them."

"They're not like you, Justen. Not like anyone in all New Pacifica, and you know it. That one with the orange hair is Reduced. Really Reduced."

Her eyes practically glowed with promise. How much had she seen of his notes? Justen watched Vania the way one might a snake. She hadn't come here to chat this time. Vania was smart and ambitious, and because she'd once been like a sister to him, he knew she cla.s.sified people into one of two camps: friend and foe.

Justen was pretty sure he'd slipped into the latter category at their last meeting.

"Well, you didn't come here looking for them, Vania, so what did you come for?"

"I came to enlist your help."

"In what?"

"Tracking down the Wild Poppy."

A sharp, staccato burst of laughter escaped his lips. Again with this? "What in the world would I know about the Wild Poppy?" He didn't even know where the spy hid the refugees. Not anymore.

"I'm not sure yet. That's why I'm here. After all, the Wild Poppy is undoubtedly an aristo, and you seem to be thriving among that community. Here you are, in the very heart of elite life in Albion, doing favors for the princess, going to parties with hera"What exactly is your girlfriend's official position again, Justen? The royal stylist?"

"If you like," he replied. Hadn't he once thought the same of Persis? Now, of course, his opinion of her wasa"well, he wasn't exactly sure. Persis was confusing. She was silly, and then she made the most sense of anyone he knew. She was s.e.xy, but she wasn't anything like the type of girl he could feel something for. She was shallow, but she was also one of the most thoughtful, kindhearted, and generous people he'd ever met.

"And now"a"Vania gestured to the work littering the deska""it seems you're back to your favorite topic of research. Only this time, you're doing it for the Albians."

"I've always been doing it for the Albians and Galateans both. Just like my grandmother."

"Hmm." Vania shrugged, then moved away from the table. "And yet here you do it in your girlfriend's living room, whereas back home Papa gave you an entire lab and staff of your own."

"That lab came with trappings I found a a bit constricting."

Her gaze dropped from his face to his feet and back up, studying one of the new outfits Persis had picked for him. "Actually, I find your new trappings much more constricting. But no matter how much you wish to talk about fas.h.i.+on, Justen, I have more important things in mind."

"Right, the Wild Poppy." Justen sighed and waved his hand. "Well, off you go."

She chuckled, but there was no amus.e.m.e.nt in it. "No, off you go. I am going to find the Poppy this time, and you're going to help me."

"I beg your pardon? We already went over this. I absolutely will not."

Vania was silent for a moment. "You haven't even asked after your sister, Justen. Don't you care to know how she's doing, all alone, in Galatea? Don't you wonder how knowledge of your treason is affecting her?"

Justen's blood chilled again, but he did his best not to let it show. "I think of my sister every day. I miss her tremendously." And he didn't think she'd received a single message he'd sent her since coming to Albion. His fears for her were starting to come to pa.s.s. At first he'd thought she was still angry from their argument, but now he feared worse, especially since Vania's last visit. After all, why would they let him contact Remy if they thought he'd betrayed the revolution? He needed Remy here.

"In fact, I'd appreciate it if you could give her a message for me."

"I think that will be difficult," Vania said, her expression utterly guileless, "unless of course you help me. After all, it's so hard to communicate anything to the Reduceda""

Justen didn't know how he did it, but it was as if he could move as fast as those visiting captains, for suddenly he was right on top of Vania, her narrow shoulders in his grip. "What have you done to Remy?" he shouted.

"Nothing." Her voice shook as she freed herself from his grasp. "But, Justen, you know that treason is a clear cause for arresta"not just of the traitor but of his entire family as well."

"You wouldn'ta"you couldn't do anything to Remy. She's living in your house." And yet wasn't that exactly what he'd been afraid of all along? He'd just never thought Vaniaa"Vania of all peoplea"could betray him. Betray them both. They'd grown up together; they'd loved each other as brother and sistera"or so he'd always thought. Was this what the revolution had done to her?

Vania's eyes narrowed. "Are you accusing my father of favoritism? That would make him no better than the queen he had a role in deposing."

"Remy has done nothing. To ensure her safety, I've been keeping my feelings about the revolution private. Don't you think, if I'd wanted to, I could have argued long and loud against everything going on down there?"

She snorted. "You want me to admire how ineffectual your treason has been?"

"Vania, you love Remy. You can't let anything happen to her."

"That's precisely what I'm saying to you."

Justen ran his hands through his hair, paced away a few steps, then turned. "You won't do anything," he insisted, trying to convince himself. "You'd be foolish to. If word got outa"Remy's a Helo. The people of Galatea wouldn't stand for it." To say nothing of the people of Albion. If Isla needed an excuse to invade, Remy Helo might be it.

"I hope you are right, Justen. But if you aren't, I doubt the Wild Poppy will find it so easy to break into Halahou prison again."

The Poppy had broken into the prison? The man was more adept even than Justen had thought. "Vania. Listen to yourself. Listen to what you're saying. You're coming to me and actually threatening to imprison Remy? Torture Remy? Reduce a Remy?"

There was the faintest flicker in Vania's eyes, but a second later it vanished, replaced by a serene expression. "It's not going to come to that. You're going to help me find the Poppy, Justen."

Justen shook his head in disbelief. Vania was perfectly calm, but it was the a.s.suredness of a zealot. Justen remembered when things had seemed that simple to him. The revolution was a moral good, no matter its price. And then, even when he'd first come to Albion, he'd not given much thought to anything beyond putting up with Persis and the princess in order to get his research off the ground. But now he'd seen a natural Reduced, now he'd talked to the Galatean victims, now nothing was as it seemed. He looked at Vania. At his friend Vania; at his ally Vania; at his foster sister, Vania, and he didn't even recognize her.

"I won't."

She stiffened and her expression turned stern. "Then I guess you're the one who will be Reducing Remy." She started to move away, and Justen tried to grab her.

"Stop! No, you can't."

But Justen, the medic, who spent his days in a lab and his nights with his nose buried in books, was no match for a top member of the Galatean military. Quick as anything, she swept his legs out from underneath him. He landed hard on his spine, the back of his head thunking against the inlaid stone floors. For a moment his vision blurred, and when it cleared, Vania was standing near the door.

"Though I suppose," she said, her tone thoughtful, "if you think about it, it was you all along."

Twenty-six.

PERSIS EXITED THE LIFT and approached the visitors cl.u.s.tered around the gliders on the lawn and chattering away, despite the late hour. As she drew closer, she saw there was an extra member of the party present. She peered through the darkness at the young woman in the dark clothes.

Vania Aldred. Again. She was about to have a very stern conversation with the guard staff.

An orchid flutter buzzed against her hand. She nudged aside her wristlock to let Isla's message in.

I am glad to hear from Justen that no harm has come to our guests. I suppose you can't pen in explorers, now can you?

I have wonderful news. One of the Albian royal vessels has made contact with the Argos, and with the messages from captains and Chancellor Boatwright, has persuaded them to make landing at the bay at royal court as early as tomorrow. In honor of their arrival, I plan to introduce the crew of the Argos to Albian society at a ma.s.sive gala luau tomorrow night.

Do you think they have anything decent to wear?

All my love.

Persis barely paid attention to the message, as all her focus was on the Galatean revolutionary who'd somehow managed to sneak past the guards she'd posted at both the lift and the landside entrances to the estate. The revolutionary who'd somehow, in the past hour, become close personal friends with the visitors from elsewhere.

Where was Justen while all this was going on? Had he been the one to let Vania in? Had he been the one to introduce her to the visitors?

"You're saying it snows where you live?" Vania was asking as Persis approached. "Real snow? Astonis.h.i.+ng. Tell me what it's like in this a winter thing, when the days are only a few hours long."

"Dreadful," said Kai, as if that finished the matter.

"Well, what a surprise to see you again, Citizen Aldred," said Persis.

"Lady Blake." The dark-haired woman turned and affected a deep and oddly reverent bow, which instantly made the rest of the group uncomfortable.

Oh, so this was how she intended to play. Act the downtrodden reg, as if that would make a case for the revolution. Persis smiled. She could checkmate that.

"We must call each other *Persis' and *Vania' now," Persis said. "After all, we'll practically be sisters when Justen and I get married." The girl flinched ever so slightly. Interesting. "Besides, I never can remember whether it's more polite to call you by your military t.i.tle or the one that you and your father share."

"*Citizen' is meant to denote our equality, Lady Blake."

"Is it now?" Persis giggled. "And yet, the truest equality lies not in names but in actions." She took the woman's hand and drew her away from the visitors. "What brings you to my estate at such a late hour?"

"That would be my fault, Lady Blake," called Andromeda. Curse the visitor's insanely good hearing. And Lady Blake? Andromeda had been calling her Persis since they met. And there was a sneer on the woman's pale face that Persis had never noticed before either. "Vania took Tomorrow and me on her boat all day. We toured the coast of Albion and she told us all about her country."

"Such a shame," Persis murmured. She continued, more loudly, "What's going on in Galatea, I mean. Luckily, we're safe from all that nastiness here."

"And what we're safe from in Galatea," Vania replied just as sweetly, "is the tyranny of stupid aristos who lord over us for no particular reason but their birth."

"I'd like to see a country where there are no lords," said Andromeda. "I used to read about them in books and wonder what such a place was like."

"I'm sure such a place could be most lovely," Persis said quickly. "But tyranny can come from those who aren't called lords as well."

"True," said Kai. "And it wouldn't have hurt for you and Ro to tell us where you were going, Andromeda. Elliot and I were worried sick."

"Fine," said Andromeda. "We'll decide as a group. I vote we leave here and head to Galatea. I'm tired of being told by a bunch of lords and princesses where I can and cannot be."

"Excellent decision!" Vania cried as Persis looked on, appalled. "We can leave right now if you wish. It's just a short trip from here to the northern tip of Galatea.a"

Persis refused to panic, though from Vania's smug grin, the Galatean was clearly waiting for such a response. Instead she said, "Oh, dear. Perhaps it would be best to delay the trip for a day or two. I've just received word from Isla that her s.h.i.+p met up with the Argos and is leading it back to Albion."

"Have your monarch message her s.h.i.+p again," suggested Vania, "and tell the Argos to divert to Galatea instead. We wouldn't want to keep the visitors here against their will, would we?"

Persis pouted. "Oh, but her highness the princess will be so disappointed. She was planning a luau for tomorrow night, to welcome the visitors to Albian society. It would mean so much to all the people of my country. You can leave for Galatea right after." Or never, as the case may be. "It's going to be ever so much fun. Feasting and music and dancing."

"Dance?" asked Tomorrow hopefully, looking at Elliot and Kai for confirmation.

"Now you've done it," said Andromeda with a snort. "Ro would kill for a dance."

Elliot was glancing back and forth between Persis and Vania. The chancellor, Persis had decided, said very little unless she absolutely had to, and yet Kai deferred to her whenever she did. In fact, the only thing she'd ever seen them disagree about, even temporarily, had been Elliot's insistence on flying her own glider to search for their friends. What must it be like to have a friend you always agreed with, to be in love with him besides? Persis was hardly ever in agreement with even her best friends, and the only person she'd ever come close to falling for turned out to be a liar and a war criminal. Maybe her problem was her taste in men.