[LEGACY VERSION] The Emperor of Time (Book 1 - The Kaireyeh Chronicles)

Chapter 1 - Iuri, Damon

PART ONE: CONFESSIONS

Nineteen Years Later

Soft strains of violin and harpsichord floated up from inside the restaurant. At the entrance, Fleet Admiral Iuri Kosef smoothed down the unfamiliar lines of his civilian suit and nodded to his ever-present Marine guards, also in their civvies. With those broad shoulders and hard eyes, they weren't fooling anyone. But civilian dress was expected in polite society.

The Marines spread out into the restaurant.

"It's clear to enter, sir," came a voice through his comm implant.

Iuri nodded and strolled inside.

The host's eyes lit in recognition. Iuri hadn't told the restaurant he was coming, but the young host merely asked, "Table for one, sir?"

"For two. She may have already arrived. Name is Zivali."

If the host recognized the significance of that name, he didn't show it. "This way, sir."

Iuri tugged at his stiff collar, cursing the inanities of fashion as he followed through the tables of diners, each blurred behind their own translucent, one-way holo privacy field. Some patrons paid extra to have their fields look as if they were concealed behind a waterfall, or encased in crystal. Still, Iuri could see shape and color behind some of them. He thought he recognized at least one ciren among the patrons. His shoulders tightened.

The host stopped by a table next to the curved glass wall. The towers of Aijas spread around and below them. Far below, sunlight flickered on a ribbon that might have been the river. There were no aircars crossing the sky; the holo-filters on the windows had edited them out, presenting the city as unnaturally serene.

Iuri found it creepy.

The host dimmed the holo field around the table. It was a simple translucent field, but the table's location was extravagance enough. Vice Admiral Edora Zivali, head of Armada Intelligence, looked up. She did not stand for her superior.

"Thank you," Iuri said to the host, barely glancing at him as he settled down opposite Zivali.

She touched the holo controls floating above the table. The privacy field shimmered green as it resumed, then faded into one-way transparency. But the field still fuzzed the air if Iuri squinted. They could see out, but no one could see more than blurred shapes within. Zivali wouldn't air his secrets to any devices that might be monitoring, but her choice of venue, and her summons, were all meant to say she could.

"Zivali," he said.

"Kosef." She smiled. The lines of her face were severe, framed by regulation short black hair that boasted a few streaks of silver. Her dark eyes glittered with a light that did not match her smile.

Iuri scowled. "Zivali, you know I'm busy. I have a meeting tonight with Grand Ciren Wycliffe, and reports to review in the meantime. Why am I here?"

Zivali gestured at the glass wall. "It's an incredible view."

"The view from my office suits me fine."

Her smile twisted. "It is quite remarkable how every city, no matter the world, shares similar qualities. The towers stand tall and proclaim the right of the privileged to rule. Middle-class trade happens in the middle layers, where we can look down to regulate, but not dirty our hands in it. And beneath it all, those who are the foundation of our society--the workers, the peons, the slaves."

Iuri twitched. "We do not have slaves on Aijalon."

"No," she agreed. "But there are slaves on other worlds. We do not like to think about them. We pretend we don't see them. Or we see them too much and punish them for it."