The Ashes of Worlds

by Kevin J. Anderson

  His expression was unreadable. “No, my place is here, giving Freedom’s Sword the last key weapons they need. By the time he gets back to Earth, the Chairman won’t have a government left.”

  124

  Tasia Tamblyn

  Now that the faeros were in retreat, the Solar Navy ships were anxious to rush off to Ildira and finish the job. Adar Zan’nh issued orders for all remaining warliners to draw together and prepare for departure.

  The intact Roamer vessels were also ready to join the campaign, despite having run out of frozen wental munitions. In one of the open, bustling hangar bays on the skymine, Tasia joined the others, studying the enthusiasm on their faces. Kotto Okiah flinched at every loud noise of loading spacecraft, departing ships, and hissing exhaust vents.

  “We must pursue them,” Mage-Imperator Jora’h insisted. “Ildira is unguarded. Once they arrive, Rusa’h and his faeros will sterilize the whole planet just because he failed here. He will stop at nothing to hurt me.”

  “Perhaps he is not as much in control of the faeros as we believe,” Osira’h said.

  Jess said, “My water bearers have returned to Theroc and are ready to throw themselves into the battle. I will call them to follow us to Ildira.”

  Tasia was glad to see just how pissed off everyone was toward the faeros. It reminded her of how she felt about the Klikiss since the ordeal on Llaro. The Klikiss . . . still unresolved. While she was pleased at the ten faeros she had helped to snuff with her icy artillery shells, Tasia thought the plan ill considered. “Now, don’t go off half-cocked. Shizz, I can’t believe I have to be the voice of restraint. Poor planning is poor tactics. Are you really as prepared as you can be? Sure, you can go to Ildira, but you won’t win the fight. Take a breath, and do this right.”

  Kotto was also agitated. “Before we can even think about facing the faeros again, we need to reload the ships with thousands of frozen projectiles.” He frowned at Adar Zan’nh. “Your warliners can’t hold up against the heat of the faeros, and we know that Ildirans have a habit of crashing their ships into things. So you need better armor.”

  “Our armor is the best ever developed,” Zan’nh said flatly. “There is nothing better.”

  “Then we’ll have to come up with something better — maybe something a bit unorthodox.”

  The Solar Navy commander’s expression relaxed slightly. “Yes, you human engineers are good at that.”

  “Ideas, Kotto?” Cesca said.

  He scratched his head. “You did ask me to think of ways to use the wentals. What if we had them form a misty shield, like a cocoon, around the hulls of our ships?”

  “Both the shield and the frozen projectiles would require a lot more wental water than we have available here,” Cesca said.

  Tasia was optimistic about Kotto’s suggestion. It was a step in the right direction. “Then let’s get that wental water before charging off to Ildira. If you want to defeat the faeros, we’ll have to put up our best fight.”

  “We can get all the wental water we need.” Jess nodded to his sister. “Tasia, you can lead the Roamer charge into battle. And, Kotto — ”

  The engineer surprised them by shaking his head. “I’m not going along. I already demonstrated that my weapons work, and that’s good enough for me. Mission accomplished. Now I have another project to finish — something just as important, and one that we’ve all been ignoring. You think we’ve got only one enemy at a time?”

  Cesca stiffened. “But we have to defeat the faeros.”

  “True, but you don’t need me with you to do that. My Klikiss Siren has been ready to test for days, but there were so many distractions . . . If the Siren turns out to be effective, we could get rid of the whole Klikiss threat.”

  That was all Tasia had to hear. “In that case, you need my help, Kotto. I’ve got more than my share of experience with those damned bugs, and a score to settle with them for killing the colonists on Llaro! If you’ve got a weapon, I’ll find you some Klikiss to try it out on.”

  Cesca and Jess looked at her with real consternation, but Tasia faced them. “I should be going with you to fight the faeros. Shizz, maybe I should even be back with Robb and Admiral Willis helping to round up lunar fragments. But my Guiding Star tells me this is what I need to do. Trust me, Jess.”

  He regarded his sister and let out a long sigh. “You’ve always made up your own mind, Tasia. You ran off to join the Eddies without asking any of us. I can’t stop you now.”

  125

  Celli

  With great joy Celli looked up between the parted branches of the worldtrees to watch the water bearers return. Their reservoirs were full of restored wental seedpools they had retrieved in their widespread searches, and all of the watery entities had been infused with the anger and fighting spirit promulgated by Jess Tamblyn and Cesca Peroni.

  She and Solimar touched the same tree, listening to the verdani sing out their welcome. The canopy rustled as fronds moved aside, granting the Roamer ships room to approach.

  Bursting with energy and anxious to be freed, the wentals convinced the newly arrived pilots to open their cargo bay doors while they were still in the sky, letting the energized water spill out. As streams of silvery liquid poured into the open air, the suspended water gathered itself into reflective globules like engorged raindrops that drifted among the towering trees.

  Previously, Celli had seen the wentals fuse with damaged worldtrees, a symbiosis that converted them into enormous verdani battleships. But what the wentals were doing now was new to her. Since the gigantic thorny treeships had proved too vulnerable to the faeros, this time, the wentals and verdani would try a different tactic, a way to engulf and contain the fiery elementals, and then trap them back inside their suns.

  Celli and Solimar joined other green priests, all of them intuitively understanding what they were supposed to do. Climbing the towering trees, they harvested small treelings that grew in crevices in the gold-scaled bark. They detached the shoots and carried them gently down.

  In normal times, emissary priests had planted new groves on distant planets, spreading the sentient trees across the Spiral Arm. These treelings, though, had a far different purpose.

  Through telink, the green priests also knew the news from Nira about the recent faeros battle at Golgen. Jess and Cesca, Adar Zan’nh, the wentals, and the Roamers were all preparing to take the fight to Ildira. And the worldforest would join them. All of the allies had to act now, before the faeros began their vengeful destruction.

  With her gaze turned to the sky again, Celli watched the numerous wental spheres drift down like a rainstorm of huge drops. She and Solimar stepped forward, carrying their newly harvested treelings. Because the verdani were interconnected, each delicate plant was as significant a part of the worldforest as any larger tree. All of them were one.

  A wental sphere as broad as her outstretched arms hovered in front of Celli. When she pressed one of her spindly treelings against the curved soap-bubble edge, the water folded itself inward. She positioned the treeling at the center of the globe of water, where it floated free. An aurora of light shimmered from the core, and the water rippled with liquid power, as the verdani tree and the wental combined into a stronger force. An invincible force, Celli hoped.

  Completed, the water sphere lifted into the air to hover above the treetops. Solimar also inserted a treeling into a waiting wental ball, and the second englobed tree rose to join the first. More green priests came forward to do the same, each one creating a new combined elemental weapon.

  After dumping his liquid cargo in the air, Nikko Chan Tylar landed his Aquarius alongside the ships of ten other water bearers. He emerged, followed by his father, Crim, and another old man, whom some of the clan representatives recognized. “Caleb Tamblyn!”

  “Yes, I’m joining this damned fight after what those fiery monsters did to me, and they murdered Denn.”

  Mother Alexa and Father Idriss came out to meet them, carrying baby Reynald,
whom they were tending while Peter and Estarra were at Earth. “We can always use more fighters.”

  “Then I’m ready to join the fight.” Caleb crossed his bony arms over his chest. “I’ll make a difference, just you wait and see.”

  Celli’s father reached out to shake Caleb’s hand. “Happy to have you with us. And what is it you can do, exactly?”

  The old man looked flustered.

  The green priests continued to create weapons with treelings and water spheres. Fronds floated inside their wental bubbles, both drawing and providing energy. Many silvery balls lifted above the canopy, reflecting the sunlight like a cluster of polished pearls. Nikko stared upward, his almond eyes sparkling. “That’s really beautiful.”

  “Let’s hope the faeros don’t think they’re so pretty,” his father growled.

  When they were ready, the wental-verdani spheres shot off toward Ildira.

  “Is that all there is to it?” Caleb Tamblyn asked, looking around uncertainly. “I expected something to happen.”

  “Oh, there’s more to come,” Celli said.

  “Much more,” Solimar added. “But it’s going to take place at Ildira.”

  Caleb clapped Crim on the shoulder. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Nikko was already sprinting toward his ship, and the other water bearers did the same.

  126

  Sarein

  She and Cain formulated their plans, timing everything carefully. They waited for a blustering Basil to fly off to his closed-door meeting on the Confederation flagship; once he had left Earth for the full diplomatic process, they would have less than two days to hamstring the Hansa government.

  Before he departed, though, Basil came to her quarters again, looking tense and harried. Fortunately, he did not have sex on his mind; he needed something else. “Soon we’ll celebrate, Sarein. Everything will be back in order. Once I manage to make Peter recognize his untenable position, the Hansa will run smoothly again.” The Chairman made no secret of the ultimatum he had issued; he was quite smug about Peter’s long-lost brother Rory as his trump card. He expected Peter to quickly bow to his wishes.

  Basil stood so close that it felt awkwardly intimate. The warmth of his breath sent a chill down her spine. “I wanted to reassure you.” He touched her shoulder. “When I come back from this trip, I’m going to need your help much more often.” He traced his fingertip along her chin, up to her high cheekbone. “I’ve been cold to you, I know. Distracted. But I need you by me.”

  Sarein’s mind was a whirlwind of clashing thoughts. Did he really remember some hint of emotion toward her? Or was this just another kind of manipulation? She couldn’t forget the damning set of surveillance images he had hidden under her pillow, a clear warning that he knew she had done things for which he could easily execute her. She blinked as a strange thought crossed her mind. What if Basil had meant the gesture not as a threat, but as a favor, to prove that he knew of her indiscretions and yet was willing to forgive her?

  Basil smiled as if an idea had just occurred to him, but Sarein was sure he had planned it carefully. “While I am gone, I want you to move your possessions into my private quarters underground. Stay there with me, safe in the bunker. We’ll be together every day.”

  Though alarmed by the idea, she found herself nodding with feigned enthusiasm . . . nothing to provoke him, nothing to raise his suspicions. She wanted nothing more than to leave immediately. “I can’t wait” was all she said.

  “Good. I’ll look forward to seeing you when I return.” He seemed convinced by her performance.

  “Goodbye, Basil.”

  He went to the door, hesitated briefly. For one horrified instant, Sarein thought he was going to come back to kiss her . . . but then he hurried off, leaving her frozen in place.

  Yes, it was time to move. No regrets.

  127

  Deputy Chairman Eldred Cain

  As soon as the Chairman’s ship left the Palace District spaceport, Deputy Cain got to work. He had a great deal to accomplish in a short time.

  Cain would have preferred to have Sarein at his side, along with Captain McCammon and a mob of shouting protesters all claiming to belong to Freedom’s Sword. But in a sense, solo action was more liberating, now that the Chairman was gone. Cain was free to act without coordinating with others and without the fear of risking anyone else’s life. The responsibility was his and his alone. He found it more efficient.

  Admiral Diente was already dead, having tried his best to meet the Chairman’s unreasonable expectations. Cain saw no reason why the Admiral’s family should remain under house arrest — except for the fact that the Hansa wouldn’t want them out in public where they could talk. Still held in their special detention apartments, they hadn’t even been informed of his death; Basil claimed that it kept the family more tractable. Once Diente’s wife and children discovered the truth, though, Cain was certain they would have plenty to say.

  At the apartment complex, he easily bluffed his way past the guards. “Their detention order is rescinded.” He showed them an official-looking Hansa document. In all the turmoil on Earth, no one had bothered with the hostage family in some time. The guards shrugged.

  Inside, when Cain opened the doorway of the secure apartment and looked at the shocked and haunted faces of the wife, the daughters, the son, he realized he wasn’t the best person to pass along the heartbreaking news; he had never been particularly good at warmth and compassion. He saw the four of them staring at him.

  “Are you here to let us out?” the wife asked. He chided himself for not having bothered to familiarize himself with her name. “Do you have news?”

  He stated what he needed to say. “I regret to inform you that Admiral Esteban Diente has been killed on a mission to the Klikiss. It . . . happened some weeks ago, but the Chairman has kept the information from you.”

  The wife began sobbing, as if she had been expecting the announcement as soon as Cain arrived. The teenaged girl and the twelve-year-old boy gasped and shouted in disbelief; the younger daughter didn’t understand what was going on.

  Cain faltered, then continued. “All along, you were being held here under false pretenses. Chairman Wenceslas kept you hostage so that Admiral Diente could not refuse his orders. He used you to guarantee your husband’s loyalty to the Hansa.”

  “No, no, no,” the wife cried.

  “The Chairman does not know I am doing this,” he said. “I am here to release you.”

  “Release us?” the boy blurted. “Where are we supposed to go?”

  The older daughter simply blinked. She seemed to be the only one truly paying attention. “We were hostages?”

  He tried to usher them toward the door he had just unlocked. “I’ve made arrangements, but you must leave before Chairman Wenceslas returns. Things will go badly once he discovers you are no longer in custody. I’m sending you to a group called Freedom’s Sword. They’re gaining followers everywhere. You can stay with them, at least until it’s safe. They’re expecting you. Tell them your story, and they will let everyone on Earth know exactly what the Chairman did to you, and to your husband.”

  “No, no, no,” the wife said. Cain doubted she knew what she was saying.

  Now he wished he had brought Sarein with him; surely she would have been better at this. “Come with me.”

  By now, the Chairman had been gone less than an hour.

  In the same building, he found the families of Admirals Pike and San Luis, also taken hostage as threats to hang over the two military commanders. Releasing the families, he gave them instructions on how to get in touch with the two officers.

  “The Admirals are in the EDF crews helping to protect Earth from lunar fragments. Tell them you are free and safe. Only when they know you are no longer in jeopardy can each man follow his conscience, instead of obeying illegal orders in order to protect you.” Cain decided it was best not to tell Pike’s wife that her husband had been ordered to assassinate the former Chair
man.

  Disbelief showed on their faces, but the adult son of Admiral San Luis nodded grimly. “You know it’s true, Mother. They lied to us all along.”

  With a growing sense of urgency, Cain led them all to the streets. “Chairman Wenceslas used each of you as an expendable bargaining chip. Tell the world that he is not fit to lead us. Now go. You — all of you — are weapons that Freedom’s Sword can use to unravel the Chairman’s web.”

  Cain’s pulse raced with the awareness of what he had just done. However, to truly achieve critical mass, he needed a catalyst, a focal point. Fortunately, he knew exactly where to get that. It was in another holding cell.

  During the past several days, Chairman Wenceslas had been too busy to plan an extravagant execution for Patrick Fitzpatrick and Zhett Kellum. The timing couldn’t be better.

  Cain slipped through the streets, hearing the loud shouts and buzzing sounds of twitchers as the increasingly overwhelmed cleanup crew tried to suppress the demonstrations. Good. Once Freedom’s Sword began spreading the news from the released hostage families, there could be no stopping the tide.

  If King Peter was willing to work with them. If Sarein could convince him.

  Some protesters were camped out near the nondescript government building where Patrick and Zhett were being held. Though the Hansa guards refused to reveal the location of any particular prisoner, despite demands from the ever more vociferous dissidents, demonstrators staked out every possible holding center, hoping to catch a glimpse of their two heroes. Given enough dissenters, someone had been bound to get it right.

  Sure that someone in the crowd would recognize him as the Deputy Chairman, Cain entered a building across the street, descended two floors underground, and took a dimly lit access tunnel across to the holding structure.

  The tiled floor was white, the smooth walls painted cream, the ceilings an unbroken flow of phosphorescence. No shadows were allowed. The cleanup crew had filled all the available maximum-security detention centers weeks ago, and these holding cells had been designed for the temporary detention of disorderly people, drunks, or rowdies, not evil masterminds.