Stars Rise

XXIV. From the Mouth of Marius Himself

Solis Ortum — Sunrise, One Hour to Hora Prima

"President Solin," Justin Marius tried, "you must immediately declassify any projects that may have contributed to this solar phenomenon."

The sun rose early this morning. The sun rose early. Justin tried not to think about it, which was why he kept using the phrase 'solar irregularity.' How can the sun rise early? kept intruding on his thoughts. Even that phrase, a dead metaphor from a time before a modern understanding of the movement of celestial bodies, was a euphemism, concealing what it meant. The sun is a star, and stars don't rise. Planets orbit them, and rotate. So how could the sun rise early?

He wanted to yell. Long ago he had burst out of his seat at the conference table, high up in a glass fish bowl office in levitating Pleione Tower.

Pleione gave Gaia home field advantage at the emergency meeting Justin had called. Every executive could easily have been linked to Justin's complex in Eosphorus, as he had requested as leader of the opposition faction, but the president had ignored him. She named Pleione the base of operations for dealing with the 'solar phenomenon.'

Pacing the office high in the clear blue sky, he found himself repeating himself: "All departments must contribute to diagnosing the source of the problem, putting all other projects on hold for today. President Solin, all classified projects must be revealed at the least to the entire board, if not to the public, immediately."

The magic cast surface of the table rippled occasionally, like a quiet creek, now reflecting glints of late morning sunlight when the time on his watch read solis ortum on the dot. Sunrise on the dot, one hora to prima.

She wasn't listening, and hadn't been listening. Arms crossed over a violet kimono, she whispered unabashedly with Amadeus Solace. Seats around the conferance table were filled with other allies, such as Tony Solari, who would have been fired by now if Solin had what Justin had on him. Maybe Justin should have simply gone with that play. And wasn't old Amadeus supposed to be retired by now? It seemed Gaia had talked him into staying around for election day.

She was surrounded by allies. Yet Justin had a few of his own linked in between their morning meetings. He had tried not to laugh as Portia had tip-toed oh-so-reluctantly through a portal. He placed her strategically far from him at the table so as to make the far corner seem like a mob of support, while Candra Satiri stood at his back like a body guard. Or a snarling guard dog.

Tony Solari, on his feet now too, answered for Gaia. "Absolutely not. We cannot release sensitive research. If the sun's behavior is the result of any Constellation experiment, the department responsible will handle it."

From her far corner, Portia piped up, "The sun's behavior? Sol is a self-luminous, spheroidal, celestial body of great mass at the center of a planetary system, not a puppy with a bladder problem." A few executives seated in her corner couldn't keep from chuckling, unintentionally aligning exactly with Portia's intentions.

Now that they were softened by humor . . . "All projects must be made transparent. Classified projects dealing with weaponry," Justin ticked a finger, "or flight," he ticked another, "time travel," another, "or any amendment to the current star dial . . . configuration — it must all be revealed to this board. President Solin's opposition has zero confidence that the entities that created this mess will be capable of fixing it. Before it gets to the point that the sun is speeding through the sky twice its normal speed, oversight must be given over to our control."

The meeting, however, was still out of Justin's control, not least because Gaia Solin kept trying to walk out of it. For the fifth time, by Justin's count, Gaia squirmed toward the door. It seemed the president of the company that invented magic had forgotten that if she really wanted to escape, she could take a link wherever she was going. Even she hadn't developed that instinct yet. Every time Justin asked a hard question or made a strong argument, her body weight shifted toward the door — yet there were many enemies and desk chairs between her and escape.