Roca smiled. Skyfall captivated her. They left the tarmac and walked through the safety zone around it, out into the plains. Silver-green reeds as high as her hips rippled in every direction, each topped by an iridescent bubble the width of her thumbnail. Leaning over, she touched a bubble. It floated into the air and popped, showering her with glitter. Roca laughed with delight.

"Careful," the captain growled. "We don't know what this flora can do to a person." She looked around, shading her eyes with her hand. "Where is everyone?"

"Good question." Roca surveyed the port. It consisted of little more than the tarmac and a round, whitewashed house whose turreted roof resembled a bluebell turned upside down. Sparkling bubbles floated in the air along the path she and the captain had taken through the reeds. The only other motion was a small droid on the tarmac refueling the freighter. Although the Capsize port had notified no one of their travel plans, the captain had been in contact with the computers here. Surelysomeonehuman knew they were coming.

The captain scowled. "This is bizarre. Even an automated port should have someone in charge. A full-sized robot, for flaming sakes."

Roca motioned toward the south. "Look." About a kilometer away, a cl.u.s.ter of white houses with blue or purple roofs showed above the reeds. The towers of a picturesque castle rose up beyond them, topped by spires, with pennants snapping in the wind.

"It's a village," she said.

The captain squinted. "Or the set for some absurd holovid about our 'charming' past, as if it were romantic to have no central heat or garbage removal."

Roca could see what she meant. Idealists nostalgic for an old-fashioned life might have established the village. However, it could also be the real thing, descended from a colony of the Ruby Empire. Many of the lost colonies had survived the five millennia of dark ages that followed the collapse of the empire.

Now that Roca's people had regained star travel and formed the Imperialate, they were gradually rediscovering the Ruby colonies.

Although Roca recalled no briefings about this world, news of re-discovered colonies usually went through Planetary Development or Domestic Affairs. As the Foreign Affairs Councilor, she dealt with two other interstellar civilizations-the Eubian Concord and the Allied Worlds of Earth-that shared the stars with her people of the Imperialate. However, the line between the Foreign and Domestic offices tended to blur when they were reestablishing relations with an ancient colony.

"It wouldn't take long to reach the village," Roca said.

The captain glanced at her. "You know people there?"

"No, I don't. But I doubt Imperial s.p.a.ce Command would have established a post like this if the natives were hostile." She waved at the pretty house that const.i.tuted the port. "This hardly looks like a defense installation."

The captain crossed her brawny arms. "Then why didn't anyone meet us, eh?"

"Maybe no one human received your messages."

The captain glared. "So the natives cooked them all and had a feast."

Roca gave a startled laugh. "I hope not."

"I'd just as soon be leaving."

The reminder that she would soon be on her own disquieted Roca. "You're certain the supply ship sets in here the day after tomorrow?"

"It's supposed to." The captain shrugged. "I fulfilled my part of the agreement. You're here. I can't hover around until your next flight comes."

"What if no ship shows up?"

"Not my problem."

Looking past her, Roca saw the droid was done refueling the freighter. The other automated functions of the port also seemed to have finished their maintenance. Well, she had agreed to this. She could hardly expect the captain to stay. Trying for a cheerful tone, she said, "G.o.ds' speed on your trip. I hope you haggle the blazes out of your buyers."

The captain grinned. "You can be sure of that." Her features softened a micron. "Hope the, uh, marriage thing works out."

"Thank you." Roca thought of Darr all those decades ago, and of her son Kurj, who had suffered several broken bones from the beating Darr gave him. She had never married again. Right now the a.s.sembly was pressuring her to wed a prince from one of the n.o.ble lines, the House of Majda. Roca dreaded the union, but its political advantages were too important to ignore.

She said only, "I'm sure it will."

"Well, so." The other woman set off for her freighter, easily pushing her way through the reeds, then walking solidly across the tarmac. At her ship, she looked back and lifted her hand in farewell.

Roca waved. The freighter took off in a blast of flame and exhaust, and soon disappeared in the great expanse of the sky.

The port house was as charming inside as out. It struck Roca as more like a home than anything else, with a living room, rustic bar, and doors to inner rooms. An emerald-green material paneled the room, neither gla.s.s nor wood, but something in between. She christened it "gla.s.swood." Real paintings hung on the walls, rather than holoart, scenes of craggy mountains capped with blue snow.

Roca stood in the center of the room, uncertain what to do. She didn't want to trespa.s.s, but now that the captain had left, she had nowhere else to go except the village. The supply ship was due the day after tomorrow, but she didn't have a good sense of what "tomorrow" meant here.

She thought about walking to the village, but decided against it for now. She couldn't take chances.

Given her questionable departure from Capsize, it was unlikely Vammond had notified the supply ship about her. If Roca wasn't here when it arrived, its pilot would have no reason to wait. Even if he expected her, she doubted he would tarry; other settlements depended on him to deliver their supplies in a timely manner.

Restless, she wandered about the room. She had just decided to go outside again when the front door opened, the old-fashioned way, swinging on hinges rather than shimmering away in a molecular airlock. A man stood framed in the doorway. He was about her height, husky, with curly black hair, dark skin, and brown eyes. Oil stained his wrinkled coverall. He froze in the process of taking off a heavy glove, staring at her in open astonishment.

"My greetings," Roca said, self-conscious. "I hope you don't mind my coming in. I couldn't find anyone when the ship landed."

The man continued to stare at her.

"The freighter," Roca added. "I'm afraid I don't know its name." She heard how strange that sounded.

The fellow blinked, then finished pulling off his glove. His mood leaked through to Roca despite her mental shields: surprise, puzzlement, uncertainty, and pleasure at having company. The friendly quality of his mind appealed to her.

"Goodsir?" Roca asked. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm sorry." He answered in an unexpected language. "I can't understand you. Do you speak English?"

It took her a moment to reorient. He was using a language from Earth, of all places. She had a.s.sumed her people settled this planet; it never occurred to her that the Allied Worlds of Earth might have found it first. The supply ship was Skolian, but it wasn't unusual for ships of both civilizations to service isolated settlements off the main travel routes. Although Skolians rarely spoke English, Roca had some familiarity with it, given her position as Foreign Affairs Councilor. It was among the languages she had chosen for the node in her spine.

"My English not so good," she said, "but I do some." As she heard more of it, her node would update her speaking ability. Having such an aid helped her learn languages fast, an invaluable a.s.set to her job.

The man smiled, an expression of warmth and good nature. He spoke slowly, making it easier for her to follow. "I had no idea the supply ship was due in today. I thought it was two more days."

"It is." Roca smoothed her hands on her jumpsuit. "I am pa.s.senger on it, I hope."

"Ah." He closed the door and came over to her. "My name is Brad Tompkins." Extending his ungloved hand, he added, "Welcome to Dalvador Port."

Roca hesitated, trying to remember the custom his people had with hands. Her node came up with the answer; he was offering her a greeting in a manner that showed respect between two parties. She took his hand and moved his arm up and down. Apparently the gesture had the desired effect; by the time they released their grip, his tension had eased.

If she interpreted his responses correctly, the appropriate behavior now would be to give her name. She picked the names of two friends, a wife and husband she very much admired. "I am Jeri Christian."

"h.e.l.lo, Jeri." He motioned awkwardly at his coverall. "My apologies for my clothes. I've been working on the flyer. It came down outside of Dalvador yesterday. Bad circuit, I think." He pulled off his other glove. "Or maybe I need to replace the conductor plugs."

His English had an accent compared to the "British English" Roca had learned, but the words were similar enough that she could follow most of what he said. Her node identified his dialect as "Californian,"

which wasn't a country on Earth she recognized.

"The port has damaged aircraft?" she asked.

"That's right. I'm hoping I won't need to order supplies." His expression warmed. "Would you care for a drink-water, juice, anything?"

After two days with the brusque captain, Roca found Brad's friendly nature like an oasis. "Water, thank you."

"Coming right up." He went to the bar, his relief so strong she picked it up despite her mental barriers.

She unsettled him. He was glad to have something to occupy him, lest he pull apart his gloves with nervous twists.

He took out two gla.s.ses from under the bar. "The water is treated."

"Treated?" she asked.

He poured clear, sparkling water from a pitcher into the gla.s.ses. "Did you see the clouds outside?"

"They are blue."

Brad turned, holding their drinks. "As is all water here. It has a chemical in it, sort of like food dye. The natives have nanomeds in their bodies that break it down." He came over and offered her a drink. "It probably wouldn't hurt you to drink a little of the untreated stuff, but it might make you sick. This is treated."

Roca took a sip. It tasted wonderful, as if it came from a spring high in the mountains. "Is good."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "If you will excuse me, I'll go change."

"Please, yes, be comfortable."

Brad crossed the room and left through a gla.s.swood door that glowed with a deep blue l.u.s.ter. When Roca was alone, she let her mind relax, giving it a chance to recover. She wasn't used to one-on-one interactions with strangers. For her entire life, she had been distanced from everyone except her family, as if she were in a crystal sphere.

In many ways, being an empath intensified the effect. She needed the distance. If her mental defenses became too strong, though, they m.u.f.fled her mind and slowed her thoughts until she felt only partially alive. She couldn't shut out every emotion from every person; to stay human, she had to let herself be vulnerable to their minds. She noticed it most as a dancer, when spectators watched her perform.

Scientists who studied psions claimed strong empaths picked up moods, magnified them, and projected them back to their audience. Roca never a.n.a.lyzed it; she knew only that when she felt a performance in her heart, she somehow linked more with her audience.

Yet even on stage she felt set apart, separated, performing, unspeaking and unreal, a fantasy to watch but never touch. In a way, her work as Foreign Affairs Councilor was another performance. She interacted with many governments, but her high status distanced her from people, a separation heightened by the formal protocols required by her duties. Intermediaries introduced her to her counterparts in other administrations and took care of any functions that involved less formal contact among their staffs.

Her t.i.tle as a member of the Ruby Dynasty also created distance. The Ruby Dynasty and n.o.ble Houses were ancient. In these modern times of elected governments, only her family and the House of Majda wielded significant power, though the other Houses still existed, much as royal families continued on Earth. She had won her position as Foreign Affairs Councilor by election, but her Ruby t.i.tle seemed to enthrall the public far more, until she felt as if her life had become more fantasy to them than reality, making the crystal sphere around her even thicker.

Here, with anonymity, she felt no distance. It unsettled and exhilarated her. The loss of that separation made her aware of how much it buffered her mind, but she also felt more connected to the people around her. Given her stumbling English, Brad probably couldn't tell she had the Iotic accent of royalty. Even the captain, who had recognized that her accent came from another social cla.s.s, hadn't guessed enough of the truth to feel inhibited from speaking plainly. As aggravating as it had been, it had also refreshed Roca, like cold, bracing air. She reveled in this freedom she had never before known.

The door across the room opened, startling Roca out of her reverie. Brad walked in, smiling more naturally now, wearing blue trousers and a gray sweater that accented the width of his shoulders. With his dark hair and eyes, he resembled a n.o.bleman in the House of Majda, except that they had straight hair and patrician noses. He had one other striking difference from a Majda lord-his friendly, open personality. The Majda held themselves so aloof that at times Roca wondered if they consideredanyone else worth their time. It was one reason she dreaded marriage to Prince Dayj Majda, her intended.

Brad beamed at her. "I must say, you're a welcome sight."

"Thank you." She tried to soften her formality.

"I hope you enjoy your stay with us." He lifted his hand, inviting her toward the sofa. "If you'd like, I can take you on a tour later. We could visit the village."

"Yes. I like that." She settled on one end of the couch. "I wonder-how long is village here?"

He sat on the other end, leaning back, relaxing as if he had known her all his life. "We aren't certain. Six or seven centuries, maybe. It's called Dalvador, and this area is the Dalvador Plains. The name goes back thousands of years."

Roca wondered if he realized the significance of his words. A human settlement that old had to descend from the Ruby Empire, which meant her people would challenge any claim the Allieds made here. Did Brad know the history? Six millennia ago an unknown race of beings had come to Earth and taken away a small population of humans, moving them to the world Raylicon. Then the kidnappers vanished. Over the next millennia, the bewildered humans had developed star flight and gone in search of their lost home.

Although they never found Earth, they established the Ruby Empire.

Unfortunately, the empire had soon fallen. It wasn't until a few centuries ago that the Raylican people had regained star travel. As they spread out across s.p.a.ce again, they split into two factions, the Skolian Imperialate and the Eubian Concord. When Earth's children finally reached the stars, they found their siblings already here, busily building their two empires. Earth formed a third civilization, the Allied Worlds. As far as Roca knew, this was the first time the Allieds had claimed an ancient Ruby colony.

"This world," she asked. "Hold it many people?"

"Not a lot. We estimate two hundred thousand, all on this continent." Brad rubbed his chin. "The Dalvador Plains have relatively small villages, but if you cross the mountains to the Rillian Vales, you'll find larger towns. The Blue Dales are high in the northern mountains. Nomadic archers live there."

The names sounded like music to Roca. "Make you contacts with people?" Belatedly, her node suggested,Do you have many contacts with the people here?

"Some." His mood dimmed. "A resort company on Earth plans to develop the area, put up hotels, spas, that sort of thing."

It sounded like a good way to ruin a beautiful land. "People in village-know they you?" She meant to ask if the villagers knew about the resort, but it didn't sound right. After a second, her node suggested, Do they know about this?

"Most of them know me." Brad grinned, creasing the laugh lines around his eyes. "I enjoy their visits to the port. I'm the entire staff, so it's great to have neighbors."

Roca could see why they sought his company. "They are like you?" No, that wasn't right. She wanted to ask if they were generally friendly toward offworlders.

"Actually, they aren't much like us." His mobile face became thoughtful. "Their culture has backslid a lot.

They have virtually no health sciences and know nothing about electricity. They no longer even have a written language."

None of it surprised Roca, except perhaps the lack of written language. This wouldn't be the first Ruby settlement to lose its technology during its millennia of isolation. She spoke carefully. "This world is old Ruby colony."

"Don't the Ruby settlers descend from your ancestors?"

She nodded, relieved he understood. "Yes. They are part of us. Family, you see. Such worlds we think as Skolian."

Brad gave her a rueful look. "I don't really know the politics. I just run the port."

"Is pretty world. I see why your businesspeople are wishing to develop it." She thought of the pristine countryside. "Is sad, though, if they hurt this land."

His face flashed with anger. "Yes! The company honchos just care about money. The people here don't understand. They think we come from some province over the mountains. The resort planners are going to rob them of their lands, lives, and world, and they don't have a clue."

"Can someone help?" She tilted her head. "Someone like you, who has caring for their world?"

"Lord knows, I wish I could. But if I hinder the developers, it conflicts with my job." He pushed his hand across his tightly curled hair. "I might be able to help a bit, though, if I'm careful."

"I wish luck to you." A distant rumble tugged at her awareness. She tilted her head. "Hear you noise?"

"What do you mean?"

The rumble deepened. "It come here."

Brad sat up straighter, his forehead furrowing. "I don't-" Suddenly he laughed, an open, hearty sound.

"Hah! They must have seen your ship land. They probably think it was the supply ship."