Timeweb Trilogy Omnibus (19 page)

She gazed at the comatose form of Prince Saito on the bed, which was oversized to accommodate his bulk. It seemed unfair to her that this vital, very
alive
man had been stricken down and reduced to such a sad state, dependent for every breath upon the medical technology that was connected to him. Much, but not all, of the equipment had been provided by the medical division of his own corporation.

At least I’ve had time with you, my love. For that I shall always be grateful.

“May we open the dome?” It was Dr. Masin, leaning close to her and speaking in a low tone.

“No one is around,” Dr. Uleed added.

Nervously, Princess Meghina looked behind her. The main door and a side door were closed. “Be quick about it!” she husked.

The tall, gray-haired Masin swung the life-support dome open and checked the Prince’s eyes with a small silvery medical tube, while Uleed held another device on the patient’s temple. “He needs to be moved to a hospital,” Uleed announced.

“Preferably Nottàmbulo,” his companion added.

Suddenly the side door crashed open and Dr. Hurk Bichette burst in. “What is going on here?” he demanded.

“These are specialists from Siriki,” Princess Meghina answered, almost shouting at him in return. In a near-breaking voice she introduced them by name, and added that the Prince’s condition had worsened. Whereas earlier he had been semi-comatose, with brief periods of enigmatic conversation, now he was trapped in a full coma and had not spoken for more than a week.

“Get away from my patient!” Dr. Bichette roared. He closed the lid of the life-support dome and physically pushed the other doctors away. Bichette’s face was flushed, and a large vein throbbed at his temple.

“I want all of you to leave,” he insisted. “You are interfering with my medical procedures, and I want this room cleared immediately.” He waved his hands at the other doctors and at the Princess.

“How dare you speak to me in that manner?” Meghina exclaimed. “I am of noble blood, the wife of the Doge, and the … “ Her voice trailed off, since the rest of her résumé could not be put into words that sounded dignified. “I am the … favorite … of Prince Saito,” she added, softly.

For a moment Bichette glared defiantly at her. Then, belatedly, he looked down at the floor and bowed slightly. “I apologize, My Lady. Perhaps the stress of the occasion and the long hours I have devoted to Prince Saito have dulled my manners.”

“Step aside, please,” Meghina said in a firm tone, “so that my doctors may continue their examination.”

With a scowl, Bichette moved away from the bed.

As the Sirikan doctors resumed their work, one on each side of the Prince, Bichette said, “You will find that I have done everything possible.”

“You are a general practitioner,” Dr. Uleed said, with a quick glance at the target of his words. “This case appears to be beyond the scope of your knowledge.”

“A specialist performed the surgery, and I have experts advising me.”

“We are familiar with their names … and
credentials
,” Uleed snapped. “Let’s just say that their reputations are rather limited.”

Bichette chewed at his lower lip, and muttered something unintelligible in return.

Hearing a noise behind her, Princess Meghina turned and saw Francella Watanabe standing just inside the main doorway. She appeared to have been observing for a while. Francella’s shaved brows had been tinted cherry red, matching her lipstick and her sleeveless damask dress, a garment that featured a plunging neckline, exposing her naval. She wore white gloves that extended to her elbows.

“You should have obtained my permission before bringing these men here,” Francella said, locking gazes with Meghina. “In my father’s diminished state, I have complete power of attorney to make decisions about his medical care.”

“I also have a special relationship with your father,” the blonde Princess retorted, “and I have certain rights.”

“You are his wife in name only, with limited rights. Nonetheless, out of courtesy for you, I will not banish you from his presence. You are never again, however, to bring anyone in here to examine my father without my permission. Is that understood?”

In low tones, Meghina conferred with the Sirikan doctors. Wrinkles of concern etched her heart-shaped face. Finally she said to Francella, “Your father needs specialized care at a facility such as the Nottàmbulo Hospital.”

“He will not be moved off-world!”

“Don’t you want the best for him?”

“I resent your tone.”

“This is not a time for petty feelings. We must consider the welfare of Prince Saito.”

“It is probable that he will never awaken,” Francella said. “Sadly, I must say this.”

“You base that statement upon the opinion of a general practitioner.”

“And his specialists.”

“Who happen to belong to his own drinking club.”

“See here,” Dr. Bichette interjected. “I will not have my integrity impugned in this manner.”

“Be quiet,” Francella snapped. “I will take care of this.” She pointed at Masin and Uleed. “Leave this room immediately and don’t ever come back.”

Meghina nodded to them, affirming the command. She would make an attempt to discuss the matter with Francella at a later date, after tempers had calmed.

The Sirikan doctors departed, while Meghina remained behind. She went to the bedside and held Prince Saito’s hand. Across the room, beyond her hearing, Francella and Dr. Bichette conferred.

The Prince’s hand was cold to the touch, but he clung to life, his chest rising and falling regularly. With a wistful smile Meghina remembered some of their favorite times together, and how startled he’d been upon discovering she was a Mutati. They’d already had sexual relations dozens of times, so he could hardly believe it when she admitted her true physical form to him. She had never, however, shown her Mutati body to him, fearing his revulsion. “I would rather be Human anyway,” she had whispered to him.

After that, she had not changed back, and in a matter of weeks, remaining in that state for too long, she no longer had the cellular flexibility to metamorphose at all. She had never felt comfortable as a Mutati anyway, and ever since her childhood had preferred the beauty and functional utility of the Human physical form.

Her decision had not been without its sacrifices. Despite her rank as a Mutati princess, it had rendered her an outcast among her people, preventing her from ever assimilating with them again. In losing her ability to shapeshift, she gave up an act that was extremely pleasurable, even to her. It provided a Mutati with the highest form of bliss—higher even than sex, and left the Mutati in a state of satiated euphoria for an extended period. (A potentially dangerous time, since it made the shapeshifter vulnerable to attack).

Now Meghina looked Human, and would for the rest of her life. She had not contemplated all of the problems that this would entail, such as the signs of aging that had a way of creeping up on this race. Mutatis, in contrast, went at full-vitality through old age, until the moment of their death. In her present form she had to think about face creams and laser treatments in order to remain youthful in appearance, something she would never have bothered to consider in her original bodily structure.

Come back to me, my love
, she thought. A tear ran down her cheek as she gazed at the nearly lifeless form of her lover.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dying is easy. Life is infinitely more difficult.

—Prince Saito Watanabe

As Francella left the room where her father lay and strolled along a loggia, she concealed a smile. The confrontation between Dr. Bichette and the two Sirikan doctors had not disturbed her in the least. Oh, Bichette was upset about his competency was being called into question, but that fool didn’t matter to her. No criticism could possibly be directed at her for leaving him in charge. After all, he had been Prince Saito’s hand-picked personal physician, and an important director of CorpOne’s Medical Research Division. On the surface, Francella could not have selected a more appropriate person.

Her father’s cliffside villa, with its red tile roof and white stucco walls, overlooked the Valley of the Princes, with the office and industrial complexes of some of the wealthiest corporations in the Alliance. His regal dwelling had been styled in the manner of an ancient Earthian home found in the ruined town of Herculaneum. Roman emperors had enjoyed walkways like this one, with its open-air gallery of imperial statues. The eagle fountain in the terrace courtyard, visible to Francella now through ornate columns lining the loggia, had actually been brought back from Herculaneum, and so had the mosaic tile floor in the opulent private bath building.

As for Meghina, she would bear watching. Hidden camviewers recorded her every move at the villa, and Francella had been monitoring the medical confrontation from another room, until deciding it was time to intervene.

Noah’s fraternal twin waved a hand across a pale yellow identity beam that protected a doorway. After a momentary pause, a heavy alloy door slid open with a smooth click, revealing her father’s study—a place he called “the inner sanctum.” This room had always been off-limits to Francella and her brother when they were growing up, so it gave her special pleasure to be here now. It was from this study that she had been watching the confrontation in the other room.

No Roman emperor had ever been in possession of the technology that was arrayed on exquisite teakoak and marbelite tables and desks. Tiny computer monitors—each looking like a small electronic eye on the end of a long flexible neck—stood on one side. At a voice command the units were capable of filling the air with holo and telebeam images. This was a data and communications nerve center, not only of this house but also of her father’s mega-company, CorpOne. Because of her position as Corporate Security Chief, he had provided her with access codes.

What he’d failed to notice, though, was her dissatisfaction over the way she had been treated in comparison with Noah, and how her resentment had built up over the years into a deep-seated anger. Francella now had an intense and all-consuming need for money, power, and prestige, and wanted to enjoy it all before she grew too old to appreciate such things. In her late thirties, with her vitality enhanced by CorpOne medical products, she was in perfect physical and mental condition to assume control of everything right now—including this study and villa. Her father was too elderly to enjoy such things anyway, so she was doing him a favor by rushing things along. What could be wrong with speeding up the timetable a little?

Glancing at a bank of camviewer screens on the wall, she satisfied herself that Princess Meghina was no longer causing any trouble. Unaware of the surveillance equipment himself, Dr. Bichette sat in a large chair, scowling as he concentrated on the blonde courtesan at the bedside.

Francella sighed. Unfortunately, her father still clung to life like an injured spider on a web, and Dr. Bichette had no idea how long he might continue in that condition. It could go on for years, the nervous doctor had said … or the old mogul might just give up and die at any moment. One of Meghina’s specialists said that the patient’s mind, even in its damaged condition, was making decisions about whether to live or die.

Somewhere in Prince Saito’s subconscious he fought on, perhaps out of a powerful desire to be with his courtesan harlot again, or to make decisions about his vast riches. He even had an ultra-high-security treasure room in the villa, where he kept priceless jewels, manuscripts, and artworks. Undoubtedly part of his mind wanted to go in there again, and wallow in his wealth. The way he had it piled up in there, he probably swam in it.

One day the treasure room, like everything else, would belong to her, so she ignored it for the moment. There were easier riches to take. Her father had done exceedingly well as a merchant prince; few had ever done better. Francella only had one regret: she wished she could bottle him up and let him continue making business decisions for her—perhaps as a sentient robot that was completely under her control and had her father’s mind. Or a disembodied brain that did what she told it to do and just kept making more and more money for her. Yes, that would be perfect.

Men should do that for women anyway, whether they were fathers, husbands, or lovers: providing money for ladies to spend. Even her brother should get in on the act and send her a steady stream of funds. He was prosperous enough. In fact, it surprised her how he did so well himself; like a junkyard king he made money from dirt, minerals, and plants, performing ecological recovery operations on various worlds and selling environmentally friendly products. In effect, Noah had squeezed money out of nothing.

She had to admire both her father and her brother for their business acumen. They were more alike than either of them realized. And she hated them, with every breath she took.

Keeping them apart for years had been a major victory for her. After the attack on CorpOne headquarters she had leaked phony evidence that it had been committed by Noah and his Guardians, without ever letting anyone know—not even her closest associates—that she was the source of the information, and of the attack itself.

Francella crossed the large study and stood at one of the computers, a segregated unit that kept track of CorpOne’s off-planet holdings. Earlier that morning, data in another segregated terminal had referred her to this one, stipulating that it contained information that would enable her to shift assets around. Even with her father’s injury, Francella wasn’t sure how long he would live, and she wanted to get her hands on as much as she could, as fast as possible. Things could still go wrong, and Noah—against all odds—might still worm his way back into the old man’s affections, drastically reducing her share or even cutting her off entirely.

Now she would begin with the saphonium mines of the Veldic Asteroid Belt, where Prince Saito had a subterranean storehouse of uncut gemstones that were among the rarest and most precious in the Merchant Prince Alliance. Delivery of the hoard had been held up by unexplained changes in podship schedules; only recently had the strange vessels resumed calling on that region.