“We’re in deep something,” Tasia said. “I’m surprised the Eddies have any ships left after the debacle on Pym.”
Kotto Okiah, standing perplexed next to them, furrowed his brow and stared at the numerous distant shapes that had begun to appear at high altitude. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. That’s way too many ships, and they’re not behaving like Eddy raiders.”
Descending through the sky in a great parade with colorful solar sails deployed, hundreds of Ildiran warliners approached the skymining levels. The ornate alien ships reminded Kellum of the frilly angelfish he had once kept in his aquariums. Behind the first wave came another, and another.
“It looks like the whole Solar Navy.” He let out a long breath. “By damn, what are we supposed to do against this?” He sprinted toward the lift with the others following. He had to get to the ops center and at least pretend to be in charge. He was in charge, and people would want him to make decisions.
The warliners had broadcast no message. As soon as he reached the control room, Kellum sent a loud message to the incoming ships, as well as his own. “Don’t shoot! There’s no need for any weapons fire. We have no beef with the Ildiran Empire.” On the outer tactical screens, he saw hundreds more warliners locked in orbit, forming a full cordon around the gas giant. “This is Del Kellum, chief of this skymine complex. And I’d very much like some explanations.”
On the screen an image formed, showing a proud and ornately dressed Ildiran male with a long braid that hung over one shoulder. Mage-Imperator Jora’h. “Do not be concerned, Del Kellum. We also have no quarrel with the Roamer clans or the Confederation.” The alien leader’s smile seemed compassionate and genuine. “We request temporary sanctuary here on Golgen.”
104
Rlinda Kett
After leaving the Klikiss before the One Breedex could complete its fissioning, Rlinda wanted to pilot the ship, feeling sharply the loss of the Curiosity. Although BeBob adored her, he also adored his new Blind Faith, so they compromised by taking turns.
Margaret Colicos had asked to be taken back to Earth, where her son, Anton, lived. While they were on their way, she continued to ponder what might be happening on Llaro. “Now that all the Klikiss subhives have consolidated themselves, I don’t know how much information the One Breedex acquired and retained from all the humans the domates incorporated. Or from Davlin himself.” She looked at them, obviously trying to get Rlinda and BeBob to hear the significance of her words. “The hive mind definitely understands something about humanity. What if the One Breedex decides it wants to control the human race, too? What if the Klikiss sweep across all of our colony worlds?”
“This lady is just full of fun ideas,” BeBob said with a loud groan.
“We’ll be at Earth soon,” Rlinda said, though she did not actually feel much optimism at the prospect. “Everything will be fine — you’ll see.”
But when they arrived, they found that Earth had suffered the greatest devastation in human history. Rlinda was stunned by what their screens showed. “I stay away from here for a month, and the whole solar system falls apart?”
Fragments large and small, many still glowing with residual thermal heat, spread out from where the Moon should have been. A small planet’s worth of rubble had dispersed into a hot cloud, most of it spreading out along its former orbital path, though numerous ejected chunks had gone into erratic orbits, slipping toward Earth’s deep gravity well.
“Moons and planets don’t just spontaneously explode,” BeBob said. “Do they?”
Margaret shook her head. “Not even the Klikiss have that kind of firepower.”
Rlinda scowled, trying to think of an answer. They stared in numb silence for a long moment, until BeBob finally said, “In the grand scheme of things, I suppose my arrest warrant isn’t going to be their highest priority. We should be safe taking the ship in.”
They approached, listening to the agitated chatter across the various communication bands. High-velocity lunar fragments tumbled toward Earth, and EDF ships were out in force to stop them, but the Hansa’s space military was like a handful of gnats against a tornado. Rescue and salvage ships of all different types dodged the debris, trying to create a defensive map of the oncoming clusters of rubble.
Seven sharp impacts banged against the Faith’s hull. A much larger rock, twice the size of their ship, tumbled slowly past on a nearly parallel course and shouldered them out of the way, caroming off in a slightly altered direction. BeBob yelped as he swerved violently. “There goes the new paint job. I don’t like this at all.”
“Let me take the controls,” Rlinda said; he did not argue with her.
The highest velocity ejecta from the exploding Moon had already reached the Earth’s atmosphere. When the fragments began to burn up, bright orange and white streaks made fingernail scratches through the air, then left thicker plumes as huge chunks hurtled toward the ground. The first fragments vaporized in flashes.
Margaret watched. “Earth hasn’t been pummeled with impacts like this since the Cretaceous Period. Any one of these could become an extinction event.”
“You sure we want to land in the middle of that?” BeBob said in disbelief.
“I believe Anton is down there,” Margaret said.
On their high-resolution imagers, they watched a succession of impacts smack the surface of the planet in bright orange explosions, flashes of liberated light. They listened to frantic calls of alarm, pleas for help, but no force could evacuate a population of billions in so short a time. And where would they go?
One massive fragment obliterated Dallas.
A few hours later, another wiped out all of Shanghai.
Margaret announced, “These are just the precursors. The largest fragments will move more slowly, but they are on their way. The most devastating impacts are still to come.”
105
Patrick Fitzpatrick III
When the Gypsy flew in toward Earth, Patrick was puffed up and ready to shout his accusations across all of the communication bands. He wanted to expose Chairman Wenceslas for the cold-blooded assassination of his grandmother, for authorizing blatant piracy at the Golgen skymines and the Osquivel shipyards, for causing scores of civilian deaths. He had graphic and appalling footage.
But no one paid any attention to them. They were just another ship among tens of thousands, all flying in the debris-strewn orbital lanes with no monitoring by space traffic control. After the destruction of the Moon, it was every pilot for himself. The Moon!
The problem was so obvious, yet inconceivable, that Patrick couldn’t even place what was wrong for several minutes. It took quite a while for him to get over his shock, and finally to get some answers. After that, he needed only a second or two to make up his mind that Chairman Wenceslas must have caused the disaster somehow.
Zhett said, “Nobody is going to be interested in politics after this. Our complaints about the Chairman are going to be lost in the noise.”
His eyes narrowed. “On the contrary, I can’t think of a better scenario for a revolution. The population has got to be ready to overthrow him, if we can only get Freedom’s Sword behind us. If we can make enough noise.”
Once the small yacht hit the atmosphere, they headed directly for Maureen Fitzpatrick’s mountain mansion. He felt a knot in his stomach and an odd reluctance as they approached. The Battleaxe had abandoned all her clout and possessions in order to take on the new position Patrick had talked her into.
And Basil had killed her.
Now Patrick was angry as hell.
When the Gypsy set down on the paved outdoor landing pad, the mansion appeared to be abandoned. Maureen’s staff, servants, and persistent guests had all gone. With the succession of disasters in the intervening weeks, he doubted the Chairman had had time to send his goons to pick through her home and property.
Looking at the large house, he suddenly paused as he felt a lump in his throat. “I suppose this is my inheritance now.”
&
nbsp; Using his memorized passcodes to deactivate the security systems, he and Zhett entered the silent home. They carried their belongings from the space yacht into a guest bedroom, which they claimed as their own.
They went to the former Chairman’s media room, a large chamber with comfortable chairs, a minibar, and a coffee-dispensing station. The walls were covered with dark newsnet screens.
“Do you think we can find a way to contact the other protesters?” she asked. “How will we get in touch with them?”
“We can do some broadcasts from here, form our own little self-contained cell. Wait for Freedom’s Sword to track us down.”
“Unless the Hansa finds us first.”
“We’ll scramble our signal, make it look like we’re somewhere out in space — you saw the chaos out there. They’ll never be able to figure it out.”
“Then how will Freedom’s Sword find us?” Zhett activated the monitors and sat back to watch the numerous reports. Many screens reported on the asteroid-roundup efforts or displayed tragic stories of cities obliterated by meteor impacts. On several discussion channels guest speakers railed against the Confederation with various degrees of fanaticism. Conspiracy theorists speculated that King Peter had somehow provoked the faeros attack. Patrick rolled his eyes.
A few sporadic channels voiced genuine criticism of Chairman Wenceslas, how his bad decisions and ineptitude had dug humanity’s grave; those discussions, though, were few. Many once-popular channels, Patrick noted, were no longer broadcasting.
One story was focused on the Klikiss, briefly reporting that General Lanyan had been killed on Pym. After the Moon’s destruction, though, that was old news. Patrick heard the story of Lanyan’s fate with mixed emotions. He had once admired the man, seen him as his mentor and the key to career advancement. How naïve and foolish he had been! Considering how many times Lanyan had thrust his hand into a hornet’s nest, it had been inevitable that he would get stung. . . .
They listened to reports of massive arrests of demonstrators who demanded the Chairman’s resignation. During the state of emergency, King Rory could do little to calm the people. Patrick was sure he would find a way to tap into the Freedom’s Sword network; even if he never found them, he could use their name to gain additional attention. With his revelations, the dissenters would have a lot more things to yell about.
When he used his own ID and thumbprint to access the main household communication center, instead of a blank Ready screen, an image formed. His grandmother stood there looking at him. He was startled to see Maureen Fitzpatrick give him a hard smile.
“Well, then, Patrick, since you’ve accessed this message from my home, and since I’m not there to delete it before you can listen, I must be dead. That pisses me off. Unless I happened to fall off a tree balcony on Theroc — and I’m not that clumsy — I’ll bet Chairman Wenceslas had something to do with it. Bastard,” she muttered under her breath.
“I can imagine what you must be thinking. You’re fired up to take on the Hansa, bring the man to justice, save the human race. You’ve turned into a crusader, Patrick, so listen: There are smart crusaders and stupid ones. That Roamer girl of yours has brought out an altruistic streak in you . . . which I suppose is just fine. I wouldn’t mind, though, if you also wanted to get even with the Chairman for what he did to your dear, sweet grandmother.” She laughed.
Patrick felt a chill to see her talking so blithely about her fate. In order for her to make the recording at all, she must have suspected that Chairman Wenceslas was capable of such a vicious action. He had never guessed how much risk he was asking the old Battleaxe to take, but Maureen had prepared for the worst-case scenario.
“Now, then, if you’re going to accomplish anything, you’ll need contacts and you’ll need resources. I’m appending to this message a full list and access instructions to several large funds. It’s not everything, of course, but it should be enough. I don’t want you blowing the whole family fortune on your campaign, even if you are doing it for my sake . . . and humanity’s.
“I’m also giving you a list of trusted contacts in the media and in business, people who did me quite a few good turns while I was Chairman, and I can guarantee you they’re not fans of the current administration.”
When she narrowed her eyes and looked right at him, he couldn’t believe she wasn’t really there on the other side of the screen. “I know how smart you are, and I know how well I raised you. I’m . . . proud of you. Now, go get ’em.”
She looked over her shoulder, called out to Jonas, and ended the recording. Patrick stared at the screen, his eyes burning.
Zhett beamed, already pulling up the lists Maureen had left.
They had everything they needed to get started.
Using Maureen’s sophisticated communications equipment, disguising the origin of the transmission through numerous layers of encryption, Patrick easily hacked into the open newsnets. Because so many popular stations had been taken off the air, leaving only dead static, he could easily broadcast on those channels. He contacted the media experts his grandmother had suggested, and they helped spread the message; several of them claimed to be members of Freedom’s Sword already. Using his extensive funds, he could open doors and cover tracks. Zhett, in particular, proved to be quite good at getting new recruits.
Patrick also found a way to insert messages into a popular news discussion show, interrupting a debate about future weather shifts due to the loss of the Moon. He got his largest audience, however, when he piggybacked onto a successful music and entertainment channel; in spite of the world practically coming to an end around them — or perhaps because of it — people still watched their favorite shows.
In an anger-intensified voice, Patrick made his damning statements and laid out the facts. Letting the appalling images speak for themselves, he uploaded the images of Admiral Pike’s Mantas assassinating the former Chairman because she had accepted an appointment as liaison to the Confederation. He showed the attack on the Osquivel shipyards and the ransacking of the Golgen skymines, before reminding his audience of his earlier widely broadcast confession, that General Lanyan had himself been responsible for causing the ekti embargo.
For good measure, he claimed to represent Freedom’s Sword and called everyone to take to the streets. While showing an image of Chairman Basil Wenceslas, he made a sound of disgust and asked, “Why do you tolerate this man?”
He signed off and took Zhett by the hand. He would do similar broadcasts day after day until he achieved critical momentum.
106
Mage-Imperator Jora’h
Leaving Adar Zan’nh and the majority of his Solar Navy soldiers aboard their warliners so as not to make an unnerving or overwhelming show of force, Jora’h descended to the primary skymine on Golgen.
Overhead, hundreds of warliners crisscrossed the sky in tight, impressive formations. Upon witnessing the arrival of such a great military force, all the skymine chiefs were alarmed, despite the Mage-Imperator’s reassurances. Kellum summoned his fellow managers so that Jora’h could address them and explain the true situation.
Nira and Osira’h accompanied the Mage-Imperator, and after due consideration, he decided to bring Sullivan Gold as well, since the Hansa manager’s story would astonish the Roamers. Sullivan looked shell-shocked as he described how Chairman Wenceslas wanted him to take over the Golgen skymines and run them as a Hansa subsidiary.
Kellum gaped. “By damn, the gall of the man!”
Anotherr skymine chief, Bing Palmer, snorted. “I almost wish the Eddies would try another pirate raid while the Solar Navy’s here, just so I could watch them turn around and run home with their tails between their exhaust pipes!”
One facility chief named Boris Goff brought his own green priest to the conclave, who delivered a spare treeling to Nira, much to her delight. With a pleased smile on her face and trembling fingers, Nira touched the delicate fronds and reconnected through telink. In a burst of words and thoughts, she descr
ibed all the recent horrific events, including the destruction of the Moon by the faeros. Although she was telling the story, Nira seemed to have a hard time believing what she herself had witnessed. Her fellow green priests relayed the disturbing information to King Peter.
Kellum rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward as he considered the Ildiran leader. “And what, exactly, do you need here, Mage-Imperator? I’ll take you at your word that the Solar Navy isn’t a threat to us. How can we help the Ildiran Empire?”
“Like you, I am angered and offended by what Chairman Wenceslas has done,” Jora’h said. “But our most powerful enemies are the faeros. The Solar Navy is eager to face them, but Adar Zan’nh needs to make repairs, restore our weapons, and pull together our ships in preparation for a victorious return to Mijistra. We must also attempt to find effective ways to fight the faeros and make a battle plan.”
Kellum smiled. “It just so happens we’ve got a Roamer scientist here who may be able to help you with some new weapons.”
As the gas giant’s sunset painted the clouds a rainbow of colors, Jora’h found Osira’h standing alone on an open deck outside a large landing bay. Precariously close to the edge, she gazed down into the restless, hypnotically layered atmospheric ocean.
Nearby sat the small diamond-walled hydrogue derelict, empty and ominous. Kotto Okiah had moved it here from his laboratory chamber, perhaps intending to run tests, but Osira’h didn’t look at it; instead, she concentrated on the deep soup of misty gases.
He stood behind his daughter, just watching her, thinking about all Osira’h had accomplished . . . yet this was still a child, one who had been forced to grow up and become something more than any normal girl during her encounter with the hydrogues. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he could not hide from Osira’h.
The Ashes of Worlds Page 35
