Fighting Gravity (13 page)

My breath caught in my throat. I never talked about my father, if I could help it. Everyone at the IIC knew that he’d been Resettled, but nothing more. Dr. Okoro and Chuck knew he’d been a drunk. Only Kirti knew about the beatings. And now I’d just volunteered that information to the emperor himself. I couldn’t look at him.

He was quiet. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

“It was a long time ago.”

He changed the subject. I don’t remember what we talked about then, I was too preoccupied with the shock. Not just because I’d confided in him, but because I wasn’t sorry I’d done it.

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13

A week later he came again.

I enjoyed his company. I hadn’t expected to, before that first evening. But he wasn’t at all pretentious or self-important. He was easy to talk to and the silences were never awkward. He was bright and quick and easily extrapolated additional information and skills from what I showed him. He was eager and willing and never shrank from work, even when what I asked of him was unimportant or monotonous. He never tried to take over or direct matters.

In other words, he was again nothing like I expected an emperor to be.

He asked me a great deal about myself. I could see that it was genuine interest and I thought that was a very good thing in a man who possessed such power over the lives of so many.

“What do you do with your time when you’re not in the lab?” he asked one night.

“Eat and sleep,” I answered with a grin.

“That’s all?”

I nodded. “Too much to do here.”

“I didn’t realize I had the reputation of being a slave driver. But you haven’t been shackled to the table, as far as I know.”

“I know. I like the work. I’d rather be doing this than anything else.”

“Do you know how much trouble was taken to make sure there were adequate facilities for the residents of this ship to enjoy themselves for an entire year’s journey? I think some engineers and designers would be wounded to hear that you don’t appreciate their work.”

I laughed. “I’m sure plenty of people appreciate it. I don’t think one person makes a difference.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” He chuckled. “Do you play any sports?”

“When I take the time to. My friend Chuck made sure I did. He dragged me out all the time. He didn’t approve of my obsession with the lab.” My smile was weak as I thought of my friend and how far away he was.

“Well, as Chuck is not here, I see that office falls to me. I play twice weekly with some of the noblemen. You should join us.”

I made a face. “Is that an Imperial order?”

“Never.” The worried wrinkle appeared between his eyes.

“Then I’ll come.”

He laughed. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, and looked at me with a thoughtful grin. “I’d like it if you called me Peter.”

Emperor Rikhart wanted me to call him Peter?

“Oh, it’s buried in my list of names, I know,” he said, “but it’s what my family calls me.”

“Peter, then.” I smiled. “My friends call me Jake.”

“Jake,” he nodded solemnly, acting for all the world like I’d just given him a gift.

-

The next game was two days later. I showed up at the playing field Peter had indicated. There were several men there already, many of whom I recognized from the head table. As soon as I entered, one of them noticed me and approached.

“This field has been reserved for the emperor and his guests at this hour,” he said.

“Thank you,” I answered, and continued toward the field.

He caught up and moved in front of me, putting his hand on my chest. “Spectators are not invited; this is a private game.”

I chose to ignore his hand. It wouldn’t do to get in a fight here and I tagged him as someone who wouldn’t back down. “Good.” I tried to go around him.

“What that means, young man,” he said, moving to block me again, “is that you’re unwelcome here and need to leave.”

He had turned very red by the time Peter entered the room. “Mr. Dawes!” he called out. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

The antagonistic lord dropped his hand.

“I told you I would be here,” I replied.

“You will address the emperor as ‘Your Excellence,’” my new friend commanded.

I looked over at Peter. He gave me an apologetic look when the lord wasn’t looking, and didn’t contradict what had been said.

“Forgive me, Your Excellence,” I said. “I’m still new here. I hope I haven’t given offense.”

“It’s of no consequence,” he said, but I got the message. There couldn’t be the informality in public that there was in private. “I see you’ve already met Duke Blaine.” A smile played at his mouth.

I gave the barest of nods in Duke Blaine’s direction. “Here, let me introduce you to the others,” Peter continued as he led me away. Duke Blaine gave me a scathing look, as if it was my fault he’d made a fool of himself. I smirked at him and followed Peter.

He introduced me to the assembled lords on the field, and later to others as they came in. It was comical, really, how they all made every effort to appear welcoming—as much as was necessary, but no more—when Peter was watching, and shunned me when he wasn’t. I was no stranger to being the unwelcome outsider, and with these people, I cared even less than usual.

I ignored them as thoroughly as they ignored me; more, really, because I made no attempt to be friendlier when Peter was looking.

In spite of this, the game was enjoyable, both for the sport and for the time spent with Peter. It was amusing and gratifying the way he was able to make me feel as though we were alone together even though we were surrounded by a hostile crowd. I didn’t miss the fact that he kept me at a distance, that he spoke to me no more, really much less, than to any of the others.

In spite of this, the quick, almost imperceptible looks he would throw me, the quirk of a smile in my direction, made it feel like we carried on a constant, furtive conversation. His reactions to certain things, while they could be perceived the polite, responsible way, I knew from things he had said, really meant something else, and I could see behind his careful mask the hints of the real reactions.

In many ways I came to know him better from seeing this public side of him. He didn’t act at all like he did in the lab. He was still the same person, but the public face was a very locked-down, well camouflaged version of the private one. He didn’t say or do anything in the presence of others that he wouldn’t say or do in the lab, but the reverse wasn’t true. Here, most of what I’d come to know as the real man was hidden away.

Even if I was beneath the notice of my teammates when the game was over, I enjoyed the games. The players were competent and some even talented. The type of game rotated around so that no one game ever got old. I was glad Peter had invited me and even began to look forward to them as the weeks passed.

-

He came to the lab at predictable intervals after that. I was always happy to see him and found over time that I thought of him between his visits.

“The captain’s in a snit because I asked him to orbit in the wrong direction,” he said as he strolled in one evening.

“Why would you do that?”

“So you could see the planet from your window. I told you I’d make sure you didn’t miss the orange skies of Orellia.”

It was something I’d always remember: The tangerine haze of the atmosphere that made the continents a coppery color and the seas purple. And the realization that the emperor had moved spaceships in orbit, just so I could see it.

On one occasion, as we were working up a new experiment—I’d saved this project for several days so that he could be a part of it from the very beginning—we were joking and laughing and I called him “Pete.” His whole face lit up and I stopped calling him Peter after that.

-

Through all this, I tried to keep in regular contact with Kirti. She sent me vid and text mails often, but I was less interested in who Cynthia was dating this month, and Dr. Gunnarsen being promoted in Dr. Aitken’s place, than I meant to be. I was surprised by how much of an effort that was. I’d expected to think of her all the time, for our separation to be painful. I’d expected to talk to her or send messages to her every day.

Not only was it nothing like that, but as the weeks rolled by, I thought of her less and less. Every time I sat down to send a mail, I resolved to do so more often, but it never worked.

fg
14

About a month later, he came to the lab with news. The ship’s course to the next stop would take us within four days of a planetary nebula. He’d given orders to detour and spend a week stopped in proximity; he’d cleared his schedule so that he and I could study it.

I didn’t think of anything else for ten days. It was all I talked about. Jonathan stopped asking me anything and just started to make all my mundane choices for me. At dinner my neighbors stopped talking to me at all. It took me a few days to notice. When I stopped Pete in the middle of a game of rugby to tell him about a new idea for an experiment, he laughed.

“Honestly, Jake,” he said, “I’m starting to think this is too much for you. Maybe we shouldn’t make the stop, to preserve your sanity.”

Then he laughed again when my mouth fell open, and I realized he was joking.

-

There is nothing more beautiful in all the universe than a nebula. Standing at the lab’s window and watching our approach was like running toward an explosion in slow motion. A galactic paint-spill, color and light splashed across the backdrop of stars.

We spent a feverish seven days in the lab, almost non-stop. A few nights, we took turns napping on the couch rather than return to our beds and lose any of our limited observation time. The only exception was dinner each night. Pete insisted that we both go. I didn’t see what difference it made for me. He said I needed to get out of the lab for at least an hour every day. I suspected he didn’t want me to be there if he couldn’t be.

But for the most part, we dedicated all our time and energies to studying the nebula. It was thrilling, and it gave rise to some of my most celebrated later work.

As all-consuming as the work was, there was a notable distraction: Pete. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say, me. The concentrated time together made obvious something that had been only teasing my attention before.

I found myself standing closer to him than was necessary. And then I’d want to be closer still. I realized I was looking for excuses to touch him; a hand on his arm, a playful shove.

We had always joked and goofed around, but I found myself doing so even more just to initiate physical contact.

His reactions, too, had me in a muddle. When I made myself stand farther away than I wanted, he closed the distance. I wasn’t the only one initiating contact.

It couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t be attracted to Pete. There was no way he was attracted to me. Even if we were, how could that be anything but awful? We were already doing the impossible—a friendship between someone like him and someone like me. Trying to have anything more would be a disaster. It would ruin everything we did have.

Mercifully, the work was interesting and demanding enough that I didn’t have time to worry about it.

-

The week passed and Pete went back to his own work. The lab felt too big, too empty, hollow. All the pieces were there, but something was missing. Everything seemed to take too long to accomplish with only one pair of hands. My work had never felt so much like work before.

I missed him. I cursed myself for being a moody baby and tried to focus on the work at hand; that was what I was there for after all. Time with Pete was just a side benefit. A temporary one. In a few months I would be returning to the IIC.

The thought made me ache.

-

After Pete had diverted so much of his time to the lab for a full week, I thought it would be longer than usual before I would see him again. When he strolled in only five days later I was shocked.

“What are you doing here?”

“What?” He grinned. “I’m not allowed to come anymore? Have I overstayed my welcome?”

“Of course not. I’m just so surprised to see you. I didn’t think you’d have time for me, for the lab I mean, for weeks.”

He shrugged. “I got used to being a part of this. I’ve wanted to come every night for the last four nights. I like being here better than anywhere else.”

A thrill of excitement ran through me at those words. He frowned.

“What?” He approached and I told myself I was imagining that his hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch me but hadn’t let himself.

“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all.”

He looked like he wanted to say something but with a frustrated expression he turned to the experiment I’d been working on.

“How’s this going?” he asked.

“Well, actually, I was concerned with how we’d been neglecting it last week but it seems to be no worse for the wear.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured, examining the data on the tablet in front of him.

The nearness of him crackled against my side like too much electricity. I tried not to think about it and I couldn’t think about anything else. I was vividly, stupidly aware of him. It was exhilarating, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to panic. He was so close it was overwhelming. I couldn’t bear it. I turned away, an agonized noise bubbling in my throat.

He moved with me, pulled me against him, and kissed me. The kiss was hurried, intense, and fearful, as if he expected to be shoved away.

My head screamed to do just that—to run, but my hands were tangled in his hair. My body yearned toward him, closing what distance remained between us. I groaned.

His shirt was coming off and I knew that it was my hands undressing him, but they felt like they belonged to someone else. I turned us around and pushed until he was backed into the table behind us, and I pressed myself against him.

It was frantic, his rough caresses, his kisses like bites on my neck and shoulders.

I pulled his face back to mine and we kissed, violence and fear and lust. He moaned and pressed against me.