“You . . . you would allow me to do that?”
“Passion has been sorely lacking in your recent presentations. If you feel so strongly about this, then put your passion into your speech. I’ll give you this one chance to make a difference.” He could not imagine the sort of naïve nonsense the Archfather would end up blathering about. Holding hands and singing songs, probably.
The Archfather’s eyes grew fiery. “I can put these people on the straight-and-narrow path — I can really do it.”
“I’m sure you can. I’ll postpone your next scheduled address for a week to give you all the time you need. Make it perfect. Break a leg. I don’t want to be disappointed.”
Basil was happy to let the man jump off a cliff. It was time to play more heavily on King Rory’s messianic aspects anyway. The leader of Unison would have to step aside and let Rory play his role.
71
Prime Designate Daro’h
When they discovered that Hyrillka Designate Ridek’h had vanished from the sheltered caves, the Ildirans were in an uproar. Daro’h and Yazra’h marched to the mine opening to stare out across the bright landscape, desperately searching for him.
In the sky, faeros fireballs cruised back and forth, always watching. The open plains below the foothills spread out in great blackened swaths. Smoke curled into the sky from numerous smoldering flames. The Prime Designate stared, but he saw no figure moving out there.
Adar Zan’nh emerged from the tunnels, accompanied by four equally worried guards. “There is no sign of him in any of the chambers.”
Blind Tal O’nh sat cross-legged on the rocks outside, as he often did. Daro’h went to him to deliver the grim news. “Designate Ridek’h is missing, and I fear for his safety.”
“I know where he is,” O’nh said, unperturbed. “Ridek’h went to face the faeros incarnate in Mijistra.”
Yazra’h was ready to go after the young man with her two Isix cats. “Then he will die. Why did you not stop him?”
Adar Zan’nh responded immediately. “My scout ships could comb the landscape and intercept the Designate before he reaches Rusa’h.”
“And what would that accomplish?” The old tal’s expression was implacable as he faced the harsh light of the suns. “Though Ridek’h is just a boy, he understands what the rest of us are afraid to admit: We grow weaker every day. We must take action. The Mage-Imperator is being held prisoner by the humans and cannot help us. Hundreds of warliners remain in a holding pattern outside the system, impotent. Nine more are trapped here. We have several days to lay our plans and prepare to act while Ridek’h makes his way to Mijistra. If we do not, the Designate’s challenge and sacrifice will be wasted.”
Daro’h clenched his fists in frustration. “Give me a course of action that is not futile, and I will take it immediately!”
“Call Tal Ala’nh to bring back our warliners,” Yazra’h suggested, prowling back and forth like one of her cats. “If we launch a tremendous assault on Mijistra and seize back our city, it would deal a profound blow to the faeros.”
The Adar’s face was troubled. He had already watched most of his warliners obliterate themselves in an effort to weaken the hydrogues, and many had also been lost against the faeros. “They would destroy our Solar Navy — to no purpose. As Adar Kori’nh showed us, sacrifice must not be pointless.” He turned away. “Yet now it seems Designate Ridek’h is intent on throwing his life away.”
“Even failure in battle is preferable to this endless hiding!” Yazra’h cried. “Look what the faeros have done to our people, our world — our Empire. We must fight them. We must do something truly significant.”
Adar Zan’nh spoke slowly, an idea clearly forming in his mind. “We cannot win a direct combat — against them. The faeros are too powerful. But they are not our only adversary.”
Daro’h came to a conclusion he should have thought of much sooner. “The Solar Navy cannot fight the faeros, but they can go to Earth and free the Mage-Imperator.”
“Would that not mean going up against the entire human military fleet?” Yazra’h asked.
Zan’nh was shaking his head. “I understand the Earth Defense Forces. I am familiar with their ships, their command structure, their placement at Earth. If I joined my nine warliners with Tal Ala’nh’s cohort, my force could strike swiftly, rescue the Mage-Imperator, and depart without ever fully engaging their military.”
“We could have the Mage-Imperator back . . .” Yazra’h breathed.
The Prime Designate began to feel the surge of possibilities. “But how do we get the warliners away from Ildira? The fireballs will intercept and destroy them as soon as they try to move.”
Tal O’nh got slowly to his feet. “Let the boy make his attempt. We do not know what he might accomplish. He may die, but he will preoccupy Rusa’h long enough for us to take extreme action.” He turned toward the Adar as if he could watch the expressions play across his face.
Zan’nh stared stonily. “An extreme action . . . something that Adar Kori’nh might have taken, provided there is a chance it could work.” He faced Daro’h, nodding slowly. “Prime Designate, we cannot waste our warliners, but we do possess another playing piece. When the tal first discussed it, the prospect seemed too terrible to consider.”
“We must consider everything,” Daro’h said.
“What is more terrible than granting the faeros free rein over Ildira?” Yazra’h asked.
Zan’nh looked up into the sky. “Our shipyards and spacedocks are hanging in Ildiran orbit — massive, unoccupied industrial facilities.”
The Prime Designate remained puzzled. “They are not armed. They cannot maneuver. How can the shipyards help us?”
“We know Rusa’h is ensconced in the Prism Palace,” Zan’nh pointed out. “We have a chance of destroying him, or at least hurting him, if we strike a powerful enough blow. But first we must accept an unspeakable reality: We will never get Mijistra back.”
72
Rlinda Kett
This was really stupid, Rlinda knew. Unconscionably, ridiculously stupid. If BeBob tried to do something like this, she would have sealed him in an airlock chamber until he came to his senses.
But Rlinda did it anyway. The Voracious Curiosity was fully fueled and supplied, and she had checked out the new weapons systems. BeBob was due to leave on his next standard trading run, this time to a place called Eldora, so she waited until he left. She flew off when he couldn’t do anything to stop her, leaving only a brief message for him to find when he got back. It was the only way.
She already knew she would regret not asking for his help if — when — the situation got hairy, but BeBob’s new Blind Faith was too perfect, too clean, and he was just too damned proud of it. She was taking a huge risk and didn’t want to worry about anything but herself and her ship.
She would find Davlin Lotze, if he was still alive.
Though she had filed no flight plan, BeBob would figure out where she was going. It was fairly obvious. Nevertheless, she hoped to be back before he could do anything equally stupid. . . .
Though Llaro had been a Hansa colony, it wasn’t one of her usual destinations. Not a terribly scenic place, but Rlinda didn’t plan to do any sightseeing. From space, the world looked as if it had been used roughly, scraped clean, and left exhausted.
Her planetary database identified the site of the former colony. There, she found an extensive complex spreading for many kilometers, a maze of towers and tunnels and incomprehensible structures. “If you’re down there, Davlin, I’m going to have a hell of a time finding you,” she muttered.
She reminded herself again that this was a really stupid idea, but she owed the man too much to give up now. Davlin had saved her too many times, even though she had done her best to return the favor.
Opening a channel on the Curiosity’s comm system, she broadcast on a private EDF frequency — one that Davlin would know and monitor, if he could. “Hello, Davlin? Davlin Lotze. If you’re there, plea
se respond. This is Captain Rlinda Kett, cavalry of one. Remember me?”
From the size of the infestation down there, she wasn’t sure how Davlin would get to a transceiver, but if it was humanly possible, she was willing to bet he’d do it. In fact, Davlin might even have found a way to escape on his own. Via transportal wall, maybe? In that case, he wouldn’t be here anymore . . . and then she didn’t know what she’d do.
Alert, she circled overhead, unrealistically hoping that the Klikiss wouldn’t notice her. She kept herself ready at all times, prepared to throw the Curiosity into an immediate retreat. Then, unexpectedly, she received a signal on the EDF band. She did not recognize the voice. The strange tone sounded synthesized and mechanical, not human.
“Captain Kett.”
A chill went up her spine. “Who is this? I’m trying to contact Davlin Lotze.”
Suddenly, a swarm of small Klikiss ships came toward her, hundreds of identical component vessels. They launched from the colony structures below while others swooped down from orbit, rapidly converging on her poor little Curiosity. “Oh, crap!”
It was time to check out the new weapons the Roamer shipyards had installed. She shot jazer blasts at all the bug vessels that swirled around her, and in less than a minute she had obliterated a dozen of them; high-velocity projectiles smashed another seven. But the Klikiss ships kept coming. There were far too many of them.
She accelerated, trying to ram her way out. “Getting a little crowded around here.” Two of the component craft caromed off her hull as they attempted to evade her charge. Red alarm lights flashed on the Curiosity’s status indicator array, and sparks spat out of the copilot’s control panel. Good thing BeBob wasn’t there. He’d be panicked right now.
“Captain Kett, please land.”
She realized then that the Klikiss component ships could have wiped her out, but the precise shots had merely crippled her engines. As she descended, alien component ships surrounded her, herding her. She had about as much maneuverability as a square asteroid. She used up all of her favorite curses on the way down and made up a few more before the Curiosity skidded across the dirt and rocks, clipping one of the termite-mound towers.
Crash webbing exploded around her, pinning her to her seat while cushioning foam spurted against her body. She spluttered and cursed again as the Curiosity came to a grudging halt. The bottom hull was ripped, the engines wrecked. “Oh, dammit a hundred times over!”
Outside, thousands of Klikiss emerged from their tunnels and towers, scuttling toward her.
This wasn’t exactly how Rlinda had pictured the mission ending. She considered launching an emergency buoy into space with a brief last message for BeBob, but that would just be treacly sentiment, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
While peeling off the crash webbing and smearing away the soft, slimy foam that had saved her life, she heard scraping and scratching on the outside of the ship. Even though the lower hull was already compromised, she couldn’t bear to see the bugs rip open her beloved ship as if it were nothing more than a food package. That would just be too much.
Opening the hatch, she stared out upon a sea of polished chitin, segmented limbs, and faceted eyes. Offensive odors filled the air — like a mixture of ammonia, sulfur dust, rotting meat, and vomit. Then she saw an old woman standing among the creatures. A human woman. Leaving the insects behind, the stranger approached the Curiosity’s hatch. “Captain Kett, I’m Margaret Colicos. I’ve been sent to meet you.”
Rlinda blinked in disbelief. It took her a long moment to form a response, and she couldn’t decide which part she found most astonishing. She had spent a lot of time in the ruins of Rheindic Co with Davlin, helping him search for any sign of the Colicos team. “I tried to find you years ago!” She glanced nervously at the insects. “I’m looking for Davlin Lotze now. I think he was abandoned here on Llaro. Any idea where he might be?”
Margaret hesitated, then said, “Davlin is here . . . but he’s not the Davlin you’re expecting.”
73
Chairman Basil Wenceslas
The looming black robot seemed to fill much of the Chairman’s office with his armored body. Captain McCammon and three heavily armed royal guards stood at the doorway, visibly concerned, their weapons drawn and ready to fire if the robot should make any threatening moves.
Basil leaned back in his chair, entirely unafraid. He had plenty of things to worry about, but Sirix wanted something from him, and the Chairman wanted something in return. “The EDF ships you returned all passed inspection, and General Lanyan has departed this morning on schedule.”
“Your human inspectors were very thorough. All systems will perform properly,” Sirix said in his buzzing voice. “Many of my black robots would like to have gone along on the mission, to assist in destroying the Pym subhive.”
“I understand, but the General was quite adamant.”
Basil wasn’t sure whether Lanyan had been more worried about the robots or the Klikiss themselves. He doubted Sirix would be so stupid as to betray them, since the Hansa manufacturing facilities had not yet delivered the replacement robots Sirix so desperately needed. Nevertheless, Basil had acceded to the General’s demand; only human soldiers accompanied the battle group off to Pym.
“Your robots’ work so far has been acceptable.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on the deskscreen. “I see no reason why we cannot proceed with our arrangement, provided I receive daily updates on your progress on the ships.”
Sirix remained motionless. “We are on schedule. We will deliver five rebuilt EDF ships to you within seven days, in exchange for five hundred new comrades.”
“Our modified facilities are ready to begin the assembly process, but we will carefully control the release of all completed robots.”
Sirix backed away. “We recognize your need for caution and will abide by your rules, Chairman Wenceslas.”
Basil tapped his fingers on the polished desktop, remembering the public’s lukewarm response to his announced alliance with Sirix. That needed to change. “We should have an event to commemorate the release of the first black robots. Mr. Cain, see to it.”
His deputy remained seated in his usual chair off to the side. “An excellent suggestion. Perhaps you should give the speech personally? Your presence would make the people understand the real business reasons for this operation.”
He frowned at Cain, not sure why he seemed so interested. Basil didn’t often like to step into the spotlight, but maybe this wasn’t something he wanted to place on the shoulders of King Rory. “All right. Make sure there’s appropriate fanfare, positive media coverage — schedule it for a few days after the Archfather’s next rally.” (And what an interesting event that was going to be!) He maintained his calm expression. “We need the right sort of spin on this new relationship to overshadow the complaints of Freedom’s Sword.” He narrowed his eyes. “Any further progress on capturing their ringleaders, Mr. Cain?”
“None, sir. They are extremely clever.”
Colonel Andez appeared in the doorway of his office and gave a smart salute. When McCammon tried to block her entrance, she gave him an indignant glare. “I have important news for the Chairman.” Not surprisingly, McCammon did not like Andez or her cleanup crew, who had begun to usurp many long-standing duties of the royal guard. As Basil had given her more and more responsibility, Andez had definitely risen to the task.
Basil stood up. “Deputy Cain, Captain McCammon, please escort Sirix to the factory. In our new spirit of openness and cooperation, let him perform whatever inspections he desires.” He motioned for Andez to enter his office. “In the meantime, I need to speak with the colonel in private.”
When they were alone in the office, Basil drew out the silence. She did not blurt questions or show any sign of impatience; she simply waited, looking at the Chairman with her steely gaze. Finally, he allowed himself a smile. She had passed his little test. “Very well, Colonel,” he said. “What do you have to r
eport?”
“It’s Former Chairman Maureen Fitzpatrick, sir. She plans to betray you to our enemies, perhaps even resume her old position.”
Basil hadn’t expected this at all, not even an inkling. “Explain.”
“When you first aired your suspicions of the former Chairman, we established covert surveillance on her mansion. You will be interested to know that she recently had a visitor: her grandson, Patrick Fitzpatrick.”
Now Basil was incensed. The young man was a deserter who had publicly denounced the Hansa and blamed the Roamer ekti embargo on EDF atrocities. Not only had King Peter used Fitzpatrick’s confession to spread sedition throughout the Hansa, Freedom’s Sword had used him as their poster child. “What was he doing here?”
“Recruiting her for the Confederation. The former Chairman intends to defect to Theroc and join King Peter.”
“Is everyone in the Spiral Arm hell-bent on stabbing me in the back?” Once retired, a Hansa Chairman was supposed to be respectful toward the person currently in charge, not meddle in politics or voice objections to the current government. His immediate predecessor, Ronald Palomar, had led the Hansa for seventeen lackluster years, and when Basil took over, Palomar quietly and gratefully disappeared from public view. In fact, Basil didn’t even know if the man was still alive. But Maureen Fitzpatrick had led the Hansa for only nine years before she chose to retire; she had been out of office for nearly a quarter of a century, and now she wanted to come back? The power-hungry bitch.
“Contact Admiral Pike. I need his ships to intercept the former Chairman before she can do something stupid that irreparably damages the Hansa.”
“Yes, Mr. Chairman.” She turned briskly to leave.
Pike might have objections, but he would do exactly as he was ordered. After all, Basil held the man’s family hostage, as well.
74
The Ashes of Worlds Page 24
