Secrets of New Pompeii (2 page)

But Elaina had returned from her fantasy
weekend with reports of abuse, gross negligence and murder. New
Pompeii had always pushed the limits of propriety as far as Naloni
was concerned, but it was hard to believe things were as bad as
Elaina described.

Until Naloni did some digging on her own.

New Pompeii was the brainchild of her
brothers and Mikko Xyell. Everyone referred to them as the
founders. When they realized a volcano was about to wipe out the
city, they had enacted a bold and convoluted plan. They told the
population that Vulcan was furious with Venus because she loved
their city more than she loved him. Vulcan was the god of fire, so
he caused the mountain to burst into flames and spew ash and rock
all over the valley. The founders hadn’t caused the volcano’s
eruption. They had simply taken advantage of the opportunity and
evacuated the unsuspecting people to a new home on a new planet
where they would be safe from Vulcan’s wrath.

Wasn’t it better to allow the primitive
people to continue in their simplistic reality? The few who had
been exposed to Fedoran technology had been completely overwhelmed
by the contrast.

“Your mind is whirling again.” Bertrom moved
to the other side of the table and gently lifted her right foot.
“Would it help if you discuss these issues rather than fixate on
them?”

She raised her head, resting her chin on her
folded arms. A large mirror in front of her allowed her to see
Bertrom. He was such an odd-looking man yet so dear. His height was
accentuated by the fact he was painfully thin, and his skin had a
faint blue cast that made his lavender eyes glow. Most people
presumed he was from another star system. In truth he was simply
“enhanced”. So many of the colonists had been enhanced—with or
without their permission.

“You have an objective perspective on the
conflict,” she decided. “What are your feelings about New
Pompeii?”

A distant smile curved his thin lips, but his
gaze remained focused on his task. “In what regard?”

She tugged her foot out of his grasp and sat
up, tucking the sheet beneath her arms. “I want your honest
opinion. I need your candor more than your approval.”

He wiped the lotion from his hands then
tossed the cloth onto his shoulder, making her think of a
bartender. “Fedorans have always been too quick to tinker with the
lives of others. They have an expectant attitude that many find
offensive.”

This was nothing she hadn’t thought herself
from time to time. “Go on.”

One boney shoulder rolled in a subtle shrug
and his words came pouring out. “They flit and flutter about the
galaxies indiscriminately enhancing populations with no better
reason than morbid curiosity.”

“Now that’s not true.” Gathering the sheet
about her, she swung her legs over the side of the table. “The
seeding programs have always been implemented for the protection of
our species. To our knowledge, we are the most highly advanced
humanoid civilization in existence. It’s our duty to monitor and at
times guide those civilizations less evolved than ours.”

His silvery brows arched and he asked, “Who
deemed you man’s guardian? If these civilizations asked for your
assistance, it would be completely different.”

“At the root of all our ‘meddling’ is a
determination to survive,” she defended. “Fedoros has been
overcrowded for generations. If we hadn’t branched out and
colonized other worlds, who knows what would have happened.”

“But Fedorans obliterated the indigenous
populations of many of the worlds they targeted for
colonization.”

“That’s not true either. We assimilate the
population into our colonies.”

“And if the population resists assimilation,
you genetically alter them until they fit your needs.”

It was hard to argue that point when the
result of the practice was staring her in the face. She tucked her
hair behind her ears and reminded, “We were talking about New
Pompeii.”

Bertrom chuckled, his eyes warming until they
appeared purple. “Shall I temper my candor? You seem agitated.”

“No. I suspect a great many share your views.
How do you perceive New Pompeii?”

It took him a moment to answer, and when he
did his words were precise, obviously chosen with utmost care. “The
only way most Fedorans can access the ‘wonders’ of New Pompeii is
through entertainment simulations. The actual resort is an
extravagant luxury far beyond the means of ordinary people. An
entertainment sim can be generated without enslaving living,
breathing human beings, so most of the people I know find it
distasteful and unnecessary.”

“But we didn’t enslave them. We rescued them
from certain death and provided them with a home very similar to
the one destroyed by the volcano.”

He smiled and patted the table. “Lie back
down. You don’t believe your brother’s rhetoric, so you’ll never
convince me. The people in New Pompeii might not realize they exist
for the entertainment of the idle élite, but we both know
better.”

With a frustrated sigh she returned to her
earlier position, her mind more conflicted than before. Bertrom’s
hands were strong and sure, his rhythmic motions usually enough to
melt her anxiety.

“I know you don’t believe in my gift,” he
said after a long, silent pause, “but your soul strands are
especially tangled.”

Soul strands, auras, chakras and tao all
meant little to Naloni. She believed in things she could see, hear,
smell and touch. “So untangle them,” she murmured. His hands
stilled and the air around her grew noticeably warmer. The hairs on
her arms and the nape of her neck rose so quickly she turned her
head. “I was kidding. What are you doing?”

His expression turned thoughtful as he looked
at her—or rather looked around her. As he’d described it in the
past, soul strands radiated out from inside a person like a
multicolored nimbus. “Sometimes tangles can be manipulated by an
outside force. Your snarls are too old, too compounded.”

She shook her head and rested her chin on her
hand. “Figures.”

“However, I can guide you through an exercise
that will allow you to untangle the strands yourself. It will give
you greater concentration and focus for the tasks ahead.”

A reluctant smile curved her lips. “How do
you know what task lies ahead for me?”

He hadn’t resumed his massage and his voice
took on a different rhythm, more confident, more filled with
import. “I see danger and a period of great darkness, but beyond
the trials is the potential for far-reaching change.”

He’d perfectly described her agenda for the
following night. Infiltrating the festival was definitely
dangerous, and she suspected she would be horrified by many of the
things she witnessed there. Still, if she were able to gather
enough evidence, she would be able to motivate her father to make
meaningful changes in New Pompeii.

“I think you listen at keyholes.” She tried
to lighten the mood and ease the tension gathering between her
shoulder blades. “There is nothing mystical about your
abilities.”

“Who is the fierce-looking man with pale blue
eyes? He is woven through each of your tangles.”

She scrambled for a nonchalant reply. He
couldn’t know about Max. She’d mentioned the affair to Elaina, but
she hadn’t described him. And Bertrom had never been to New
Pompeii. “What do you mean he’s woven through my tangles?”

He helped her down from the table and held
out her satin robe. She slipped it on and secured the belt before
he answered her question. “Viewing soul strands offers me
information about a person’s past and present. Occasionally I
receive impressions of what is likely to come. When I access the
strands, allow them to flow through me, the information is much
more specific. I not only see images, I experience emotions. This
man has had a profound impact on your life.”

“That’s nonsense.” She crossed her arms.
Denial had kept the ghost more or less at bay for the past six
years. Why should she change her strategy now? “He was a youthful
indiscretion that ended badly. I haven’t seen or spoken with him in
years.”

“How often is he in your thoughts?”

Max seldom left her thoughts. She swallowed
hard and moved to the small, round table on the far side of the
private spa. The facility was reserved for residents of the palace
and their guests, so she frequently had the place to herself.
Massages, mud baths and pedicures didn’t hold much appeal to the
male members of the royal family.

“You mentioned an exercise that would untie
some of these knots.” She poured herself a tall glass of whatever
fruit concoction Bertrom had dreamed up that morning then slipped
into one of the chairs.

“To untangle the strands you must return to
the events that caused them. Emotions may surface that you’re not
ready to face.” He joined her at the table, his strange lavender
gaze intent on her face.

“Then why should I bother? I can’t change the
past, so why dredge it all up again?”

“I know you are about to undertake something
both important and dangerous. Your mind needs to be clear and your
emotions balanced for you to accomplish what you’re setting out to
do.”

She raised her glance and stalled by taking
several slow sips. The bright orange color was less than appealing,
but the taste was refreshing and slightly sweet. “Your concern
infers that my mind is not clear nor my emotions balanced. I think
you’re underestimating me.”

“He will be there tomorrow night. This man
from your past is about to reenter your life.”

His casual statement impacted her like a kick
to the chest. She felt shocked and angry and bruised. “How can you
possibly know these things?”

“You know the answer to that. Fedoran
scientists have always been fascinated with the true potential of
the human mind. Morality standards prevented them from
experimenting on their own people, so they took advantage of the
seeding programs.”

“You are certain Max will be at the
festival?”

“I am.”

She set down the glass and sighed. “Then
guide me through this exercise. I’m far from ready to see him
again.”

Bertrom’s hands were warm and firm as they
closed around Naloni’s. She stared into his lavender eyes, unable
to hide her anxiety. It had taken years to drive thoughts of Max
from her mind and banish his image from her dreams. Not that she’d
actually ever succeeded.

“Close your eyes,” Bertrom instructed. “Don’t
resist the past’s pull. Allow your mind to flow where it will.”

His hands squeezed hers with gentle
reassurance as she obeyed. The spa was quiet. Jasmine and
setrine
flowers lightly scented the air. With predictable
accuracy her mind returned to the center of the conflict, to the
place where it all began.

“Tell me what you’re seeing. You’ve not yet
allowed me deep enough to share your memories.” She started to pull
back, to abandon the strange exercise, but Bertrom pressed her
hands between his palms and pushed tingling warmth up her arms.
“Don’t retreat. I can sense your emotions. They are raw and
convoluted. You are so angry and yet so hurt. How were these
feelings unleashed?”

Relaxing into the metaphysical flow, she
drifted through events, connected to yet separate from them. She
sighed and relaxed for a moment, letting her mind sink deeper into
yesteryear. “Life at court was so filled with conflict and intrigue
that I kept to myself as much as possible. The year Mother died,
Father was inconsolable. Vito and Tarhee set off on their yearly
tour of the colonies, and I convinced Vito to let me go with
them.”

“All three of you left your father alone to
deal with his grief?”

The disapproval in Bertrom’s voice annoyed
her, made her feel defensive and unkind. “He refused to see anyone
except his chancellor. Trust me. We tried everything to bring him
out of his…darkness. We hoped that he would have recovered enough
to let us share his pain by the time we returned.”

Though Bertrom was clearly distressed by
their choice, he made no further comment on the subject. “Close
your eyes again. Try to show me the events as opposed to telling me
about them.”

She lowered her lids and shut out her
surroundings, focusing on the memories.

Her ears hummed then buzzed, and then the
sound of a massive crowd erupted, drawing her deeper, immersing her
completely in the vision. She sat between her brothers, torn
between excitement and disgust. All around her people cheered,
their expressions twisted with bloodlust and cruelty. Below, on the
arena floor, a group of gladiators fought for their lives. Not
pitted against other men, but facing off with massive golden cats.
Tarhee had called them lions.

She had thought the animals beautiful yet
tragic, desperate for survival. Just like the gladiators.

One of the lions leapt in a graceful arch,
its target clearly a gladiator whose back was turned. Seeing the
animal’s destination, one of the other gladiators lunged, going to
one knee as he drove his blade upward into the unsuspecting beast.
The lion roared, its belly split by its own momentum, dousing the
gladiator in crimson gore.

Horrified by the brutality, Naloni spun into
Vito’s waiting arms. He pressed her face against his throat and
gently patted her back. “Too much, little one?”

“I want to leave. Can we please leave?” her
voice was muffled against his chest.

“I want to see the
primus
,” Tarhee
insisted. “Take her back to the ship if you must, but Mikko and I
are staying.”

The
primus
? The main event—highlight
of the day’s events. How could anything be more wretchedly
sensational than what she’d just seen?

“Just keep your eyes closed,” Vito suggested,
pulling her closer against his side. “Can you do that for me?”