Ruth started to cry, sensing how dangerous this was. Daniel pulled away, not wanting to disturb them further. “It’ll be all right. I’ll come back in time.”
On his way out of the village, he stopped to see Serene one last time. Her hair was disheveled and moist with perspiration. She and three other women worked hard tending Jeremiah, but the colony leader had been exposed to too many toxic spores. His fever had risen, and when he coughed the burbling mucous inside his lungs was so thick he could barely take a breath.
Daniel kissed the top of her head. “I’ll save us.”
“You’re going back there, aren’t you? Father Jeremiah said you should not.”
“Jeremiah is dying,” he said, “and I won’t let that happen to all of us.”
Trembling, she pressed her face against his chest. “Will you come back?”
He drew away, startled. “Of course I will. I’m not running away.”
“I know, husband, but I just worry for all of us.”
“I will come back in time,” he promised.
He held tighter and then released her before he changed his mind and decided just to stay and hope while a third of them died. No, he decided, that would not happen.
He left the village and headed into the hills. All around, he saw thousands of the fleshy spore flowers. The smoke from the Van Deen fires showed where they had burned their fields to stop the plants, but it was a futile gesture. There were so many of the plants ... so many.
On a hillside at the outskirts of the valley, he found the trapezoidal wall built by the Klikiss race millennia ago, the dimensional gateway that connected numerous worlds. The transportal was surrounded by coordinate tiles, each one written in the strange insect language.
After Daniel had been dumped here on Happiness, Jeremiah Huystra had deactivated the power source, disconnecting the Klikiss gateway so that no other outsiders could come through—and also making it impossible for Daniel to return to reclaim his throne. With the love of Serene and a satisfying life that was not built upon false principles, Daniel realized that he didn’t want to go back, that he had no interest in riches and power. He was happy to be with these people. His people.
Daniel had told no one that three years ago he’d secretly come back to the Klikiss transportal and studied how Jeremiah Huystra had supposedly destroyed the alien power source. But the rigorous Klikiss technology had endured for thousands of years, and one human man with a hoe could not wreck it permanently. Daniel had managed to repair the damage done and reconnect the power source, just in case. It was easy enough, since he had, after all, been trained by OX, the Teacher compy, as well as some of the best experts in the Hansa.
Back then, when he was about to reactivate the transportal, he had hesitated, then decided to leave it be. He had gone back home. To Serene. To his three children. To his real life now.
But the transportal was always there and ready. He had not wondered about the Spiral Arm, the Hansa, or missed opportunities for many years. Now, though, he had to.
Working with a small toolkit, Daniel knelt in the soft, mossy ground. He manipulated the Klikiss circuitry, connecting power leads and reestablishing the energy flow throughout the transportal. He saw no indication that its systems were active again, but he felt a faint hum throughout the stone and he knew the system was ready … even though he himself was not.
Daniel stared at the coordinate tiles. He didn’t remember any of the symbols, did not know where they might take him, but he had to go, had to find some help. Someone would come to rescue Happiness. From the look of the spore flowers, the colony had maybe a week before the buds burst and spread their spores throughout the valley.
He swallowed hard. Rlinda Kett and Olaf Reeves had filled them in on the political situation out in the Spiral Arm, and the Confederation seemed to be at peace. He was sure he could find help. Someone would provide the filters, technology, and medical assistance they needed.
He selected a coordinate tile at random, one whose design looked pleasing to him. As the alien network activated, he watched the flat stone surface shimmer and open up to reveal the other side of the gateway. A new planet. He saw structures, human structures—small outbuildings, a control shack, new dwellings. This was it, a good opportunity. These people could point him in the right direction.
Daniel stepped through, terrified of what he would find and the decisions he would have to face. But he had no doubts. He had to do this.
Chapter Eleven
Olaf Reeves
For days after Garrison stormed away, Olaf could still feel the sting in his cheek from where his son—his own son!—had struck him. It was disrespectful and deeply unsettling. His fists clenched, and he did not know how to respond. He tried not to let rage dictate his actions, because he was not a man who made his decisions based on anger, but rather on determination and clarity of purpose. His Guiding Star.
Bjorn transmitted to the main asteroid complex. “All those modules are cut loose and dispersed, by your orders, Olaf. They’re adrift far enough from the other asteroids that they won’t pose any problems.” The engineer fell silent for a long tense moment, then added, “It’s a damn shame, all those perfectly good resources.…”
“We’ll do fine without them,” Olaf said. “Doing business with Earth might have gained us a few years, but would cost our souls.”
Bjorn clearly did not agree, but didn’t contradict him on the open comm.
Olaf went back to his office and mulled over what to do next. Finally he summoned his other son—perhaps his only son now. “I need to see you, Dale. We have important matters to discuss.”
“I’ll be there in just a minute, Father.” He knew Dale would practically run, so as not to displease him. Dale was so different from his brother.…
Garrison had his little tantrum, but Olaf wondered if it was more than that. They had had arguments before, increasingly contentious disputes about the future of clan Reeves. Yes, he was allowed to express other ideas, but the clan leader had the final say, and everyone needed to accept that. Garrison didn’t understand the proper hierarchy.
Olaf had been opinionated and argumentative with his own father back when he was young, long before the Elemental War, but that rebellious phase had been brought sharply under control. He doubted that Garrison’s problem would be resolved so cleanly.
Now that several days had passed, a heavy feeling hardened in the pit of his stomach, replacing the anger. He expected his son to return, contrite, to beg forgiveness. But after such a sharp confrontation, Olaf knew it might take days or weeks for the young man to make up his mind and apologize. But Olaf feared there was something different this time, something worse.
What if Garrison never came back? What if he went with that woman instead?
Flushed from running, Dale arrived in the admin office and stood before his father’s desk, looking anxious. He was a thin young man with pale skin, a long face, and large eyes that gave him a rabbitty appearance. Olaf didn’t rise, nor did he give Dale the opportunity to sit. “You and I need to discuss possible changes in clan Reeves.”
Dale blinked. “Changes? Shouldn’t we wait for Garrison?”
“I’m done waiting for Garrison to accept his role as the next clan leader. Therefore, provisionally, I rescind that title from him.” Dale gasped, and Olaf continued. “I have no choice but to consider you to be the future of clan Reeves.”
“I … think you’re overreacting, Father. Emotions are high. You both have tempers.” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. Garrison has his Guiding Star, and he did what he thought best for the clan and for Rendezvous.”
Olaf forced himself to remain seated behind the desk. “You’re defending him?”
Dale swallowed. “Those modules would have been a big help here, and you just discarded them.”
Olaf sighed. “I can see I have to teach better priorities to our people here.”
When Dale’s shoulders sagged, Olaf knew he had won the poi
nt.
Around the admin office—once the Roamer Speaker’s office, back in the glory days of Rendezvous—he had placed historical images of the thriving asteroid complex, the artificial habitats, the numerous domes and connecting tubes. Images showed countless designs of Roamer ships patched together from other components, modifications created either by inspiration or necessity. Olaf liked to admire them, a display of the best Roamer abilities.
He activated controls on his desk to project a hologram that drew Dale’s attention. “Rendezvous, as it can be again,” Olaf said in a low voice filled with awe. “This is what we had. This is what the Roamer clans built, and this is what we must recreate. That task falls to us, since the other Roamers have lost sight of the true goal.” The shimmering hologram showed the precise arrangement of drifting rocks, connecting structures, and outlying facilities from before the attack from the Earth military.
Alas, it would not be possible to rebuild the asteroid complex exactly, because the EDF had destroyed some of the orbiting rocks, but Olaf intended to reassemble the debris as perfectly as possible, even if everyone else lost interest.
Looking at his son, he sighed. “I’ve concluded, Dale, that this lack of drive is my own failing. I let Garrison address the clans about our dream, and he just proved that his heart is not in it. Therefore, it’s time for me to go to the Confederation myself.” Now he rose from his desk and stood over the slowly rotating image of the asteroid complex. “The King and Queen need to understand what we once had. Just because Roamers joined the Confederation doesn’t mean we must give up our independence and our culture.”
“Of course not,” Dale said. “That was explicitly stated in the charter.”
“Nevertheless, they need to be reminded,” Olaf said in a sharper voice. “I’ve talked to our clan leaders to the point of oxygen deprivation, but I’ll go to Theroc and maybe Peter and Estarra will show their support for our dream.” He sighed. “And if they don’t, then we’ll do it ourselves, as I always vowed to do.”
“Should I go with you, Father? Be at your side?”
“No, I’ll take Bjorn. I am leaving you here to supervise the reconstruction. You’ll need to take on more duties like that if you’re to be clan leader someday. I’ll instruct the clan members to follow your directives.”
“Yes, Father.” Dale seemed far out of his depth, and Olaf knew he would have to be hard on his younger son to mold him into the necessary personality. The role should have fallen to Garrison, but that was not to be.
Olaf clenched his hands again as he felt his dream slipping through his fingers. He needed to hold everything together to make Rendezvous what it should be. Through sheer force of will, he could make this project happen.
He held back a sigh, thinking of Garrison and that woman, Elisa Enturi. He thought of how Lee Iswander had given up his principles, yet still pretended to call himself a Roamer ... and he thought of the Earth Defense Forces, everyone who had caused so much damage. Olaf could trust only his sadly dwindling number of followers, because only they could see the proper Guiding Star.
Maybe it was too much, too difficult. Maybe it would be best if he and the remaining members of clan Reeves just isolated themselves, found someplace to be self-sufficient and live on their own terms, as the neo-Amish had done on Happiness.
But Olaf wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet. But perhaps soon …
Chapter Twelve
Rlinda Kett
After leaving the clan Duquesne skymines, Rlinda was impressed to see the busy Roamer complex of Newstation. The clans had pooled their resources and their energy to construct a gigantic new operations center from scratch.
The huge old-school space station was a rotating wheel with centripetal force creating artificial gravity. Seven spokes radiated out to the rim from a central complex at the hub. Commercial spaceships flitted about, transporting people and materials, but over half of the vessels were construction ships. Three quarters of the wheel space station had been completed, and the rest of the framework already defined the ring.
Rlinda shook her head in amazement. “Ten years ago the Roamers were scattered outlaws. I’d say they made quite a comeback.”
Tasia admired the station as she flew the Voracious Curiosity closer. “There’s no stopping Roamer clans once they get a big idea in their heads.”
After visiting Olaf Reeves’s faltering project at Rendezvous, Rlinda had read up on the new Roamer complex as well. While Rendezvous had been built centuries ago as an accidental waystop, the site of Newstation had been a carefully considered choice. The Roamers selected an otherwise-uninhabited planet, Auridia, which had a Klikiss transportal and thus served as a nexus point for travelers using the interdimensional gateways. Auridia was conveniently located among heavily populated systems in the Confederation and not far from the Ildiran Empire. Speaker Del Kellum had selected this as the best spot for a new government center.
The Roamers chose to build their main complex in orbit, though, so their ships did not need to land and take off from the planet’s gravity well with each visit. Roamers were not planetbound. They liked to fly their own ships, rather than use Klikiss transportals.
Robb opened up the comm. “This is the Voracious Curiosity bearing the Confederation’s Trade Minister—if such things impress you. Do you have a docking bay for us?”
With a huff, Rlinda took over the comm. “And we’re also being piloted by Tasia Tamblyn, if that gains us any more favors among the Roamers.”
The traffic operator laughed. “We’re impressed enough with both the Trade Minister and a member of clan Tamblyn. Jess Tamblyn is here along with Cesca Peroni. You’re here to see them?”
“It’s on our list of things to do,” Tasia said.
A glittering pockmarked ice ball hung near the rotating station, a wandering comet that had been diverted here. The Roamers excavated the ice for water, oxygen, and standard rocket fuel, but Rlinda saw that the comet was suffused with an eerie glow. She knew what it meant. “Jess and Cesca brought the wentals there, didn’t they?”
“Yes, but the water elementals have been diminished,” Tasia said. “Their power isn’t fatal anymore.”
“Good thing,” Robb said, “if they want to turn the hollow comet into a school for Roamer children.”
Xander came forward to the piloting deck, watching all the activity. He focused on the glowing comet. “Will I have to go to school there?”
“Maybe we’ll let you go to school there,” Robb teased. “Only the best Roamer children will be selected.”
“Then I’ll be one of the best Roamer children,” Xander said.
“You already are,” Tasia said. “Because we raised you right.”
Flying through the flurry of Roamer ships, she zipped down to dodge an in-system tug hauling asteroid chunks to a satellite smelter facility. At the other end of the smelter, fabrication bays shipped out thousands of square hull plates that workers towed toward the incomplete section of the Newstation torus.
After docking the Curiosity, they were greeted by several Roamers in traditional jumpsuits embroidered with clan symbols. A young man, so tall and thin he had apparently grown up under very low gravity, spoke quickly. “The Speaker would like to see you as soon as it’s convenient, Captain Kett. He’s always ready for a briefing from the Trade Minister, and I suppose he probably wants to air a few grievances.”
“And he thinks I can solve them?” Rlinda asked.
The gangly young man laughed. “No, he just likes to air grievances. It might not even be about anything to do with the Confederation.” He turned to Tasia and Robb as their son stood between them, drinking in the activity. “Oh, and we’ve set up quarters for you, compliments of the Speaker. Meanwhile, Jess and Cesca are shuttling over from the comet.”
“I look forward to seeing my brother,” Tasia said, “but we want to get back in touch with a lot of clan members.”
“We’re pilots for Kett Shipping now,” Robb pointed out. “It’s goo
d to maintain contacts.”
Letting the others settle in, Rlinda followed the gangly man, who escorted her to the Speaker’s office. She intended to finish her business quickly, then inquire about the best restaurants aboard Newstation. As she entered his office, Rlinda said, “Del Kellum, you must not be very busy as Speaker if you can arrange a meeting with me the moment I arrive.”
The big bearded man had a potbelly, a good humor, and a loud voice, much like her own. “I was so anxious to see you, I wanted to keep my schedule fluid. Did King Peter send you here on an urgent mission? Is the Spiral Arm under grave threat again?”
She smiled and took the seat he offered. “As far as I know, the fate of the universe isn’t at stake this week. Believe it or not, this is just a social visit—classified as business, or course. But you and I can hash out some trade negotiations, open a few routes to your clans, reserve other routes for Kett Shipping. Make sure the Confederation is running smoothly.”
“Smoothly enough.” Del reached into his embedded desk drawer and withdrew a small bottle, then fished out two crystal cordial glasses. “Since you’re known for your fine taste in food and wines, I want you to sample my orange liqueur. Special family recipe, made by my own hands.”
She took the glass he offered. “Then your schedule really is fluid if you have time to distill liqueur.”
He sipped and sighed. “One must make time for important things.”
Rlinda was pleased with the sweet warmth as it burned her lips and tongue. “I have to say, I’m impressed with Newstation,” she said after taking another sip of orange liqueur. “Before coming here, I stopped by the old Rendezvous site to see their progress.”
Kellum snorted. “I wish that stubborn old man would realize that we’re all pulling together here. He’s got his head stuck in the past, but the rest of us have moved on.”
Whistling Past the Graveyard Page 7
