Pasteur opened the door and indicated that Arcturus should step through.

Arcturus swept past and entered a long room set with expensive furniture and a crackling fire that burned beneath a wide mantel. The smell of hot coffee and sweet fruits hung in the air, and Arcturus saw Juliana sitting in a large chair beside the fireplace.

She looked up as he entered and her face transformed, surprisingly, with genuine pleasure at the sight of him. In the intervening years, Juliana had grown up. Features that were girlish and coqueitish when he'd last seen her were now womanly and strong. Juliana had lost nothing of her figure, and when she stood and straightened her dress, Arcturus was again reminded of the poise and grace of his mother.

Arcturus stepped farther into the room, then pulled up short as he saw a young boy sitting on the floor in front of the fire. Dressed in dark trousers and a matching shirt, his shoulder-length golden hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. Arcturus was no expert in such matters, but he guessed the boy's age at around six or seven.

The boy sat in the midst of a pile of colored plastic bricks, built as though he had decided to construct a ruined city. Tiny toy soldiers were scattered through these ruins and Arcturus watched the child move them while making shooting noises with his mouth.

"We have company," said Juliana, and the child looked up.

Arcturus received a dazzling smile from the boy—and felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach.

Startlingly handsome, the child was blessed with high cheekbones, wide gray eyes, creamy skin, and just the hint of a hawkish curve to his nose.

"What's going on here?" hissed Arcturus as Ailin Pasteur shut the door behind him.

"Valerian," said Juliana. "Say hello to your father."

Book 3

Valerian

CHAPTER 13

VALERIAN'S EYES FLICKERED AND AILIN PASTEUR smiled as he watched the lad fight the tiredness that threatened to overcome him. It had been a long day and emotions had been running high as they awaited the arrival of Arcturus's ship. His grandson had been excited enough for all of them, which wasn't surprising given the inflated stories Juliana had filled his head with over the last seven years.

Ailin sat on the side of Valerian's bed, smiling as his grandson blinked furiously at the onset of sleep.

"But I'm not tired, Grandpa," said Valerian. "Why can't I speak to my dad? I've waited all day for him."

"Then one more night's sleep won't hurt, will it? He'll still be here in the morning."

Ailin dearly hoped that was true, for if he'd learned anything about Arcturus from speaking with Angus and Katherine,it was that their son was inclined to be capricious when it came to remaining in one place for any length of time.

"He's just like I imagined him," said Valerian, and Ailin Pasteur fought to keep the worry from his face. Juliana had built up the boy's expectations of his father since his birth, despite Ailin's warnings to her not to do so. It was a source of constant bafflement to Ailin how Juliana could still hold a torch for Arcturus, given how terribly he had treated her— albeit part of that mistreatment was through ignorance of Valerian's existence.

He still remembered the day Juliana had told him she was pregnant. Pride and joy were mixed with anger and fear as he realized that Juliana wasn't going to tell Arcturus that he was to be a father. To this day he couldn't understand or dent her reasoning, founded as it was on years of adoration from afar. They had argued furiously about her refusal to tell Arcturus of her pregnancy, those arguments only ending when Juliana had threatened to leave and never allow him to see her child should he so much as breathe a word to any of the Mengsks.

Faced with such an ultimatum, what could any father do but accede?

In Juliana's worldview, Arcturus had things he had to do on his quest for greatness, and she couldn't distract him until the time was right. Now that Arcturus had left the military, that time had apparently arrived.

Though it had been galling to see his daughter give up on her nascent legal career in favor of impending motherhood, Juliana was happy and he couldn't deny the pleasure he took from seeing that happiness.

When Valerian had been born, it seemed her joy was complete. Ailin adored the boy— but then, Valerian was easy to love, blessed as he was with his mother's grace and his father's strong features. As Valerian had grown, he began to display a quick wit and a devilish streak that Ailin knew only too well from his trips to Korhal and previous encounters with the Mengsk family.

Only once or twice had Ailin sensed his daughter's regret at her abandonment of her career, but all she had to do was look into Valerian's beautiful face and it was swept away in a rush of adoration.

Afler the sudden and shocking introduction to his son, Arcturus had gone quite pale and, for once, been lost for a scathing retort. A master of reading people's emotions, Ailin had seen the anger building in Arcturus and whisked Valerian away from the ugly drama that was no doubt unfolding below.

Valerian had protested, but Ailin had learned to be the firm hand in Valerian's life that his mother most certainly was not.

"Is Dad going to live with us now?" asked Valerian, breaking into Ailin's thoughts.

"I don't know, Val," said Ailin, unwilling to sugar his response: Valerian's mother did enough of that. 'He's just arrived and I don't know what he's going to do."

"Mum wants him to stay."

"I expect you're right, but try not to worry about it. Get some sleep, eh?"

"Where's my dad been?" asked Valerian with the relentless curiosity of a child.

"He's been in the army, Valerian,"

"Fighting bad men? Or aliens?"

Aliens. It always came back to aliens with Valerian. Ever since Ailin had—under protest—read him a bedtime story about invading creatures from another world, the boy had been fascinated by the idea that other life-forms might once have existed (or might still exist) somewhere in the galaxy.

Ailin and Juliana had taken Valerian as a young child—under armed escort, of course—to the far canyons and riverbeds of Umoja in search of relics of those lost civilizations. Undaunted by his singular lack of success, Valerian had nevertheless excavated a host of "ancient" artifacts—oddly contoured rocks, petrified bark, and the shells of dead creatures he proudly claimed to be the remains of aliens.

"No, Valerian. I don't think your father was fighting aliens."

"So who was he fighting?"

"Thai's kind of hard to answer," said Ailin, trying to think of a way to explain where Valerian's father had been and what he had been doing without upsetting the youngster. As much as Ailin hated the Institution of the Confederate Marine Corps, he did not want to rob Valerian of his idealized image of his father before he'd even met the man properly and formed his own opinion.

Arcturus would disabuse the boy of any heroic notions soon enough anyway, he thought.

"I bet my dad's a war hero," said Valerian. "I bet he killed hundreds of men."

"I'm sure he did," said Ailin.

"But he's not a soldier anymore, is he?"

"No, not anymore."

"So what does he do now?" asked Valerian. "Mum just tells me he's doing great work, but I don't really know what that means."

"I'm told he's been a prospector out on the fringe worlds since he left the army," said Ailin. "Quite a good one, too, by all accounts."

"Is he rich?"

"I'm not sure, but from the sound of it, I think he might be soon."

"Good," declared Valerian. "I want to be rich too."

Ailin smiled. "You know, we're not exactly poor here, Valerian."