The Ashes of Worlds

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Anton looked awkwardly at his mother, then back toward the Ildiran leader. “I’m sorry, sir, but I am under another obligation. My mother and I have a different calling.” He glanced away. “I’ll have to leave the task to your Chief Scribe. All rememberer kithmen memorize the entire Saga, and they know the stanzas a lot better than I do. Besides, I couldn’t do it without Vao’sh.”

  He lowered his gaze, swallowing a lump in his throat. “However, I would like to record Vao’sh’s place in the Saga — to tell of his final days. My friend would have been horrified to be portrayed as a hero, but he was one nevertheless. I want to make sure he’s remembered that way.”

  “Tell his story,” Jora’h said. “We will remember him.”

  Yazra’h squeezed his shoulder in a rough, comradely gesture. “If not to help us, then why did you come here, Rememberer Anton?”

  He flushed again. “I came to say goodbye to you, for now.”

  164

  Adar Zan’nh

  The resort world of Maratha could once again be a glorious place, and Adar Zan’nh intended to make it so. The destroyed counterpart cities of Prime and Secda would be rebuilt in opposite hemispheres, with the work taking place during alternating halves of the year. The Ildiran crews could work continually through the months-long sunlight.

  After the faeros were defeated, the Solar Navy had split apart to complete numerous vital tasks across the ragged Empire. Tal Ala’nh’s cohort of warliners shuttled the Hyrillkan survivors back home with Designate Ridek’h, where they could reestablish the once-flourishing splinter colony. Other ships had gone to Dobro and to the worlds of the Horizon Cluster, helping to fortify the frayed thism. The Ildiran Empire might be changed, but it would still be strong. Perhaps even stronger than ever.

  With King Peter’s blessing, Roamer skymines delivered shipments of ekti at a heavily discounted rate, providing all the stardrive fuel the Solar Navy needed for their operations; in exchange, the Mage-Imperator promised commercial concessions for centuries to come.

  Now Zan’nh assessed the operations in the ruins of Maratha Prime, the first Ildiran city that had been taken over by the deceitful Klikiss robots. After months of darkness, the dawn sun hung low and bright on the horizon, and he knew that over the next week the colors of the long sunrise would fill the sky.

  Maratha Secda had been heavily damaged during the Solar Navy and Klikiss bombardment, and Ildiran surveyors had combed over the wreckage to determine what could be salvaged. Administrative kithmen worked diligently to develop a reconstruction plan for Secda; during the months of darkness in the opposite hemisphere, they would determine the most efficient way to complete the monumental task and be ready to go as soon as the slow day arrived on that side of the world.

  Zan’nh thought of the human engineer Tabitha Huck, who would have found better ways to guide the Ildiran crews if the faeros had not killed her along with so many others. Sullivan Gold would be a welcome addition to the crew here, but the man and his family had gone elsewhere to help both Ildirans and humans.

  That meant he would have to encourage innovation from his own people. It was a task that filled him with a mixture of nervousness and exhilaration. He was certain they could do it.

  The Adar stood at the doorway of his temporary command post, watching heavily laden troop transports disgorge workers, engineers, diggers, attender kithmen, and more bureaucrats. At one time, Adar Kori’nh had expressed disappointment that he was forced to devote so much of his career to civil engineering projects and rescue missions; Kori’nh had wanted to experience military glory in order to earn a place in the Saga of Seven Suns.

  Now Zan’nh found himself in the opposite position. He’d had his fill of space battles and destruction, of losing ships and uncounted crewmen, of constant tragedies and atrocities. He was perfectly content to devote the capabilities of the Solar Navy to the rejuvenation of the Empire.

  He savored the simple act of watching the golden light of Maratha’s protracted sunrise grow slowly brighter across the broad construction site.

  165

  Queen Estarra

  Estarra took great pleasure in being home on Theroc and holding her baby again. Not surprisingly, Father Idriss and Mother Alexa had doted on little Reynald while his parents were gone.

  “What have you been feeding him?” she asked. “He looks like he’s doubled in weight!”

  Her mother’s expression puckered. “Is there something wrong with that? He’s a growing baby.”

  Estarra cradled her son and looked into his bright eyes. They were brown, the natural color of Peter’s eyes, as well as her own. The child’s dark hair was already unruly.

  She looked up at the magnificent worldtrees, some of which showed deep scorch wounds from the faeros flames. Now Theroc was abustle with Confederation representatives, Roamer workers, and visitors from Earth. Green priests sent excited messages back and forth to the interconnected colony worlds, disseminating news of all the positive changes. With the outpouring of support, much progress had been made in erecting a new ruling house — a combination of Roamer structure, fungus reef, and sturdy yet ornate Hansa architecture. The King and Queen felt it was important to show that the new Confederation was a synthesis of all parts of humanity.

  Beside her, watching Estarra’s wistful expression as she surveyed the thick forest and the people, Sarein said, “It’s time for us to sink our roots deep.” She looked around with an expression of contentment and a hint of awe. “I never imagined I could miss this place so much.”

  Idriss and Alexa had welcomed their oldest daughter home after her escape from Basil Wenceslas, not worried about what she had done on Earth or what political entanglements the Hansa had dragged her into. Estarra was proud of her sister, knowing how she and Deputy Cain had worked to bring about the downfall of the Chairman.

  Celli ran to her sisters wearing a garland of flowers. A sash made of lavender and peach lichens hung loosely around her narrow waist. “Only a few more hours. All the trees are focused on it — I can tell. You should hear the buzzing across telink.”

  “Don’t the trees have anything more important to worry about?” Estarra teased.

  “Not right now, and not to me.” Celli turned to her oldest sister. “Come on, Sarein — show some excitement! This is my big day.”

  Sarein seemed embarrassed. “I am excited — honestly. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  “You’d better not.” Then Celli bounded off.

  Estarra glanced at Sarein. “We’d like you to put on your ambassador’s robes for the occasion. It seems appropriate.”

  “I’m not sure I should ever wear those again, considering.”

  “Yes, you should.” Estarra lifted her chin regally, then broke into a smile. “Your Queen gives you permission to do so.”

  She went off to extricate Peter from his political meetings, insisting that he take the time to prepare himself properly. When they were ready, they ascended to the bright sunshine of the canopy where everyone had gathered to watch the wedding of Celli and Solimar.

  Estarra carried the baby against her chest in a cocoon-weave net, while Peter reclined next to her in a mesh chair. The purple-and-black butterflies were hatching again, and clouds of them swirled around like winged amethysts in the open breezes.

  Celli and Solimar stood together on the interlocked branches, beaming. Their emerald skin was marked with new dye-tattoos to signify their training, their accomplishments, and their betrothal to each other. The couple looked extremely young, Estarra thought, but she realized that Celli was now nineteen, a year older than she herself had been when she’d married King Peter.

  “They look so proud to be together,” Peter said, “as if they share one heart and one mind.”

  “Through telink, they’ve already joined their thoughts and emotions.”

  “We didn’t have that advantage.” He turned to her. “But I still would have chosen you, no doubt about it.”

  As green priests,
Celli and Solimar had come to their decision and announced it to the other green priests through telink. Their comrades already knew of their deep commitment, and so the two needed to say very little aloud for the marriage ceremony.

  Instead, Celli and Solimar did what they had been born to do. Rejoicing in their abilities, glad to be alive and moving, they demonstrated the acrobatic skills they had learned from other master treedancers. Solimar leaped out to grab a high branch, swung himself around, and folded his legs until he dangled upside down, just as Celli jumped behind him. Solimar caught her with his downstretched arms and swung her up to the next branch, where she pirouetted, barely seeming to touch her toes to the wood.

  As the audience cheered and applauded, Solimar launched himself after her, and the two continued a spontaneous yet perfectly choreographed chase through the canopy. Their exuberant dancing had once awakened a new spirit in the devastated worldforest. Now the verdani reciprocated, bowing branches, fanning fronds, taking part in the performance.

  As she watched the exhilarating spectacle, Estarra basked in the sunshine. Around her, she saw her parents and other Therons sitting comfortably with Roamers, colonists, and even Hansa representatives. The baby in her arms was warm, solid, and alive. Theroc was lush and in bloom again, and Estarra could smell the flowers in the air.

  166

  Margaret Colicos

  Alongside the Blind Faith, the Voracious Curiosity took off from the sprawling Klikiss hive city on Llaro. The fully repaired Curiosity lifted into the air, her engines sounding like a sigh of relief.

  Margaret watched the two ships go with a bittersweet feeling, uneasy at being left behind with the Klikiss again, though it was what she had requested. Anton stayed with her, looking somewhat uncertain about his decision, too.

  The Klikiss workers, engineers, and scientists had used their technical skills to repair the damaged Curiosity, guided by the Davlin-breedex, who had now established complete and clear control of the remainder of the species. When Captain Kett had brought her two passengers to Llaro, she’d been skeptical at first about letting the bugs do all the repair work, but when it was finished, she was quite pleased to discover that her ship’s systems were as good as new. The two captains flew away to meet their other obligations for the Confederation.

  Margaret saw her son looking nervously at the thousands of clattering workers, high-crested warriors, and tiger-striped domates. “Don’t worry, Anton, the Klikiss won’t harm us. Not now.”

  “How could I argue with you? You’ve got more experience with the Klikiss than anyone in history.”

  “Are you just trying to convince yourself?”

  He swallowed hard. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  Margaret and Anton had brought their own supplies, and the breedex provided a hive tower for them to use as a temporary residence. After Rlinda and BeBob departed, she and her son settled in and began their work. They felt awkward at first, mostly about being together, but quickly formed a workable partnership. They grew closer than they had ever been. Margaret told him stories about his father, and Anton described his years of dealing with university politics and how he’d been accepted among the Ildirans to translate their Saga of Seven Suns. And he also talked a lot about Vao’sh.

  “I’ll get used to it,” Anton said. “We’ve got plenty of Klikiss stories to record. That’s the main thing.”

  “Then it’s time for us to meet with the breedex again.”

  Of all the scattered subhives, the only Klikiss that remained functional were those that had been closest to the One Breedex aboard the swarmships at Earth. The rest of the bugs remained in hibernation, perhaps permanently. The Davlin-breedex had not been able to override the effects of the crippling Klikiss Siren, but Margaret wasn’t sure how hard he had tried. The sudden attrition of so many parts of the hive mind had given Davlin the opening he had needed to take over permanently with his strong and independent personality.

  Inside the putrid-smelling main chamber, the great mass of grubs and pieces formed itself into a swirling, seething sculpture of Davlin Lotze’s face, much more concrete now than it had been before. Margaret stepped close to the terrifying visage. “The rest of humanity may not know it, Davlin, but you alone probably saved us all.”

  “I’ll make certain to tell that part of the story,” Anton insisted.

  “There are other stories you must preserve,” the breedex said.

  “Indeed, there are,” Margaret said. “You need to help us understand, Davlin.”

  “I will,” he said in his eerie, overlapping voice. “Listen.”

  Together, they spent days in the hall of the breedex as the Davlin persona drew upon genetic memories. He told the never-before-heard history songs of the Klikiss, the former swarmings, the One Breedex, the creation of the black robots and their subjugation . . . and the treachery that had nearly exterminated the race.

  Anton recorded and annotated all the tales, even capturing the alien melodies as background, while Margaret interviewed the breedex. Her son was engrossed, awed to know that he was setting down an untold epic to rival even the Saga of Seven Suns. With a sigh, he looked up from his datapad and flexed his sore hand. “I wish with all my heart that Vao’sh could have been here with us.”

  Margaret understood his affection for his old colleague. “And I wish Louis could be here.” She smiled. “But we’re together. That’s enough of a miracle for right now.”

  167

  Sullivan Gold

  Sullivan put on a brave face as the Solar Navy cutter landed on Dobro and opened its hatches to the dry, dusty air. Taking Lydia’s hand, he stepped out and said, “Remember, I didn’t promise you anything fancy, but there won’t be any faeros here. And the hydrogues are gone. The Ildiran Empire and the Confederation are allies.” His voice trailed off as he searched her face. “This isn’t going to be so bad, is it?”

  “Well, I can think of a lot of things I’m going to miss,” Lydia replied, but she smiled. “And a lot of things I won’t — Chairman Wenceslas and his cleanup crew, for one. We’ll make the best of it, and we’re together.”

  The rest of his family emerged, blinking. They had been through enough turmoil that they were glad just to set foot on solid ground again. “The Chairman’s dead, and the Hansa’s overthrown,” said Jerome. “Things are getting better on Earth. We could always go back and pick up where we left off.”

  Lydia waggled a finger at him. “The fact that it happened at all should give you cause for concern. Similar things have occurred before. Secret police, rights trampled on, people afraid to speak up against injustice, neighbors turning on neighbors. The ones you thought were your friends are suddenly afraid to get involved when you need help.” She sniffed. “I’m sure this place isn’t perfect either, but it’ll be a long time before I let down my guard again.”

  Sullivan looked hopefully at his family. “Give Dobro a chance. We can really make a difference here.”

  “If your father says this is a good opportunity for us, then the rest of you are going to give it your best shot,” Lydia said, and nobody argued with her.

  After so many generations, there was no love lost between the human descendants and Ildiran splinter colonists on Dobro, but they had agreed to bury the hatchet, to work and live together. Now Sullivan would use his administrative skills to cement the two groups into one cooperative colony. With the help of Lydia and his family, he was sure he could pull it off.

  Benn Stoner, the leader of the Burton descendants, walked with a rolling gait across the landing field to shake Sullivan’s hand. “So you’re the professionals? We’re pleased to have the help.”

  “The Mage-Imperator has his hands full at Mijistra. The Confederation will send cargo ships with a few necessities, but we’ll have to do most of the work ourselves.”

  “We’re fine with that,” Stoner said. “We’re hard workers — both humans and Ildirans.”

  Several of the nearby Ildirans nodded, knowing that Sullivan had the Mage-Impe
rator’s blessing. Even if they were poorly trained in innovation, they were good at following instructions, and Sullivan felt that was a good start. “Before you know it, this place will be a model colony.”

  “I believe that Dobro will thrive for the first time in its history,” said one of the Ildirans, a lens kithman.

  Sullivan had his family unload their few belongings from the cutter. Stoner shouted out, “Stop sitting around and help the newcomers find a house to live in! Get them something nice — they’ll be here awhile.”

  Although the original colony town had burned to the ground, new buildings made of freshly sawn wood had been built. The Gold family had more than enough space to spread out into three dwellings.

  That first night, while he and Lydia relaxed in their new bedchamber, he patted her hand. “Sorry it’s not quite a paradise.”

  She leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. “You need a shave again.”

  “I know.”

  “We have running water, a heated home, and a pantry of food. I have all my family here with me. And we’re safe.” Lydia looked out the window at the dark sky and the dazzling blazers that illuminated the colony town. “It’s not paradise, but it’ll do.”

  168

  Nira

  Nira did not look forward to seeing the familiar yet painful landscape of Dobro. As the Voracious Curiosity came in to land, the dry brown hills reminded her of horrific fires. She scanned the main colony settlement and shuddered to think of the breeding barracks, the fences, and the many times she had been abused and impregnated as part of the Dobro Designate’s experiments.

  But Nira had a purpose in coming here. She had brought treelings to plant, to help the world heal from all the harm that had been done. Osira’h, Rod’h, Gale’nh, Tamo’l, and Muree’n had accompanied their mother on the pilgrimage, supporting her with their love. Together they would make a change.