Now she frowned. “I don’t know how I’d get there, though. I seem to have lost my ship.”
DD swiveled his head. “You gave me instructions to destroy the Proud Mary, Orli. Perhaps you don’t recall—”
“I remember, DD. Just trying to solve a problem.”
To Garrison, going with Orli to a Confederation colony sounded like a much better idea than staying at the ekti-extraction operations or even going back to the LOC—better for him, and better for Seth to be in a place where there were colonist children his age. Or maybe the boy would go back to Academ. And of course there would be DD. The boy had grown quite fond of the Friendly compy in a very short time.
And Orli would be there too.
He said, “I could give you and DD a lift in the Prodigal Son.” On the comm, he asked, “Seth, would you like to go to Ikbir, at least to have a look around?” The boy couldn’t agree quickly enough.
Now all they had to do was convince Elisa.
In the admin module, Elisa was preparing the manifest for a large shipment of ekti to the Ulio transfer station. She planned to be gone for several weeks, negotiating to buy salvage vessels that could be shipped out to the bloater cluster and reconfigured as pumping and filtering barges. She simply assumed Garrison would take care of their son whenever she went away.
But he had to focus on what was best for the boy, not let himself be buffeted by Elisa’s capricious priorities. He announced, “Seth and I are going to check out a colony called Ikbir, maybe settle there if it looks good. I’ll leave the coordinates, and you’ll be able to contact me anytime you like.”
Elisa’s eyes flashed. “I didn’t agree to that. My son is staying here where he’s safe.”
“Safe?” Garrison said.
Even Lee Iswander gave her a sidelong look. “Perhaps it’s best if he takes the boy to a stable settlement, Ms. Enturi—this family squabble needs to end.”
She visibly fought to contain her anger. “Custody is not just a squabble, sir.”
“Indeed not, but I’m thinking of everyone’s best interests. What if I were to expand your duties here? Your responsibility to Iswander Industries would require your time and attention . . . but if you prefer, I can give you a less stressful job, so you have more spare time to manage your personal life. Mr. Pannebaker is my alternate choice.”
Elisa’s face hardened. She looked at Seth and Garrison, as if she were being pulled by an intense gravitational force, but it took her little time to make up her mind. “You can count on me, sir. You’ve always known my reliability and my dedication to Iswander Industries.” She glanced back at Garrison, as if she didn’t even see Seth standing there. “He’s still my son.”
“He’s still our son.”
They were interrupted when Aelin entered the admin module, looking ecstatic. He spread his arms and tilted his chin. “Can you feel it? It’ll happen soon now!”
One of Iswander’s techs frowned at her readings, refreshed the screen, then stared out at the bloater cluster. The nodules were pulling away from the extraction operations. “The cluster is accelerating, Mr. Iswander.”
The drifting bloaters had been picking up speed as they approached the nearby star, but the industrial operations had kept pace. Now, though, the remnants of the cluster—still hundreds of bloaters, despite the wreckage the ekti operations had deposited in their wake—drew ahead and left the complex behind.
The green priest closed his eyes, lifted his hands palms up, splayed his fingers. “Can you feel it? Something beautiful is happening!”
Flashes sparked through the bloater nuclei like fireworks, a random pattern that increased in intensity and speed as the bloaters plunged toward the star.
“All those flashes—it’s like they’re communicating,” Garrison said.
Orli stood beside him, watching intently. “Or a chain reaction.”
Inside the admin module, monitoring screens switched to higher magnification as the bloaters drew farther and farther away. The huge nodules shifted, flattened, and then swelled. Their elastic shapes contracted in the middle and began to spread out. Still swelling and stretching, the nodules fissioned, each sphere dividing into two bloaters.
Orli’s voice was husky with awe. “It’s like mitosis—cells dividing.”
Each new sphere inflated to the size of the original nodule, until there were twice as many of them. The bloaters continued to shimmer, flashing signals, pulsing, squirming, swelling.
Within an hour, before the Iswander operations managed to catch up with them, the bloaters fissioned once more, restoring the numbers in the strange cluster to more than they were before.
Tears streamed down Aelin’s face. “And they’re not finished yet!”
The metamorphosis continued. The newborn bloaters squashed and expanded, becoming disklike and elongated until broad fleshy wings with membranous surfaces extended from their body cores, making the nodules look like huge space mantas.
The broad wings gathered the bright light of the nearby star, absorbing energy, and they swooped forward, accelerating until they circled the white sun. The transformed bloaters reveled in their new forms like butterflies emerging from a chrysalis. Their body cores sparkled, as if their flickering conversation had increased in intensity.
Everyone inside the admin module stared, struck dumb with wonder. The glorious creatures moved like a single flock, riding the solar wind. Picking up speed, they came back around and soared out past the Iswander extraction operations.
Then the bloaters flashed away, heading out into empty untracked space.
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINE
RLINDA KETT
On Theroc, the flood of sunlight rejuvenated the worldforest. As the trees strengthened, the green priests rejoiced. People bustled about the fungus-reef city, barely able to believe they had escaped the deadly impenetrable night.
Rlinda Kett met the new day with great joy, announcing that Arbor would be open for all customers. She was already planning great feasts to celebrate the bounty available from the thriving forest.
As day dawned again—a real dawn—and the atmosphere warmed, winds whipped up, stirring the worldtrees. Capricious rainstorms appeared as weather patterns readjusted, but even the rain seemed like a wonderful gift. Rlinda stood out on the open forest canopy next to her restaurant, while others ran for shelter. She just smiled and enjoyed the sparkle of raindrops on her skin.
Stepping back inside, dripping wet, she announced, “Mr. Wisskoff, we will be providing klee for all customers, fresh, hot, and free. It’s time to give back.” She slurped from her own cup of the rich beverage, felt the energy of ground worldtree seeds seep into her bloodstream.
“Free? Wonderful.” The maître d’ sniffed. “Perhaps I could simply open our pantries and refrigeration units, toss all of our food out into the meadows? Spread the bounty far and wide by flinging it from the branches?” His pinched face tightened at the very idea.
In the end, she allowed him to talk her into limiting the offer to “one day only.” The maître d’ brightened slightly. “While others are celebrating their salvation, I will celebrate you coming to your senses, ma’am. Briefly.”
Rlinda and Wisskoff took a portable dispenser and made their way to the main fungus-reef. A small ship had flown in from the Wild and landed on one of the canopy decks. Arita emerged from the landed vessel, accompanied by her aunt Sarein, who had lived as a veritable hermit for years. Although Sarein gave Rlinda a cool reception, because of their many interactions during the Elemental War, Arita ran forward to hug her. “Where’s Reyn? Is he here?”
Rlinda smiled. “Oh, he’s here, and safe—with an Ildiran girl he seems quite fond of.” She brushed aside the impatient Wisskoff, who didn’t seem happy to be wherever he was, at any time. “Follow us. They’re all meeting with your parents and General Keah.”
“And we are delighted to offer free cups of klee for everyone,” Wisskoff said without enthusiasm.
When they reached the
fungus-reef’s main meeting chamber, Arita ran to her brother, who seemed shy as he introduced Osira’h. Arita warmed to her as soon as she noticed the attraction between Reyn and the Mage-Imperator’s daughter. “Oh! I’m very pleased to meet you.” Arita’s knowing grin embarrassed her brother.
Rlinda moved throughout the room, supposedly trying to be unobtrusive but not at all successful. During her many years as trade minister before moving on to Kett Shipping and her restaurants, she had formed a habit of keeping her eyes open and her finger on the pulse of society.
Sarein seemed out of place, but she took a seat at the table and waited for the meeting to continue, as if she were an integral part of the discussions. “Please don’t allow us to interrupt,” she said.
Several advisers and Confederation representatives were in the room along with General Keah, who wore her full dress uniform and was seated next to four Manta captains, whom she had handpicked after their performance during the nightshade crisis. Rlinda handed them all cups of steaming klee, whether they asked for one or not.
Keah put her elbows on the table, and continued. “As I was saying—first off, we need to get our butts in gear. Adar Zan’nh gave us the Solar Navy plans for sun bombs and laser missiles, but who knows when the Shana Rei will strike again?”
Peter said, “The factories at the Lunar Orbital Complex are ready for full-scale production. I received a report from Deputy Cain this morning. We should have sun bombs for CDF ships within the coming weeks.”
“Yes, Sire, but those are the standard-issue sun bombs. Ildirans being what they are, I’m sure the weapons were from old plans that hadn’t been changed in thousands of years. We can do better. The CDF will add some finesse, increase the intensity, and show the Ildirans how it’s done. It’s a matter of pride.”
Sitting next to Reyn, Osira’h said, “The faeros came because I called them, but they suffered losses, too. I tried to thank them, but it’s difficult to know if they understood. There’s no guarantee that they’ll respond again if I call them. They are unpredictable. We need to be prepared to fight the Shana Rei even without the faeros.”
“I still find it difficult to trust the faeros,” said Queen Estarra, “after what they did to the worldforest.”
“Therefore, more sun bombs.” General Keah took the klee Rlinda handed her and slammed it down as if it were a shot of whiskey.
Three green priests sat in the room, each with a potted treeling. All at once, they sat upright, turning to one another and then back to the King and Queen. “The verdani battleships are reacting. Something is coming.”
Keah leaped to her feet as did the Manta pilots. Touching the comm on her shoulder, she said, “Keah to Kutuzov—battle stations! Full sensor sweep.” She activated the screens inside the chamber.
Rlinda paused to stare, then moved out of the way so others could see the screens. The Kutuzov and the armed Mantas remained on high alert, poised in a widespread defensive formation. The huge verdani battleships spread apart, their thorny boughs now green and powerful again, recovered from the battle against the nightshade.
Sensor Chief Saliba transmitted from the Kutuzov, “General, our deep scans detect a flurry of incoming ships—small unidentified vessels.”
Keah said, “Is it the Solar Navy?”
“Definitely not, sir. They’re too small—and there’s an accurate count, not a multiple of seven. Ildiran ships always travel in multiples of seven.”
“At least you’re learning, Lieutenant Saliba,” she said. “How many then?”
“Ninety-nine.”
The small vessels streaked in like shotgun pellets. The CDF ships raised their shields, stood in defensive formations. The weapons officer called, “Should we open fire, General?”
Glancing at the General, Queen Estarra shook her head, keeping her eyes on the curious expressions of the green priests. “Let’s wait and see.”
Peter added, “We can’t just shoot at anything that approaches Theroc.”
“Agreed,” Keah said, though she didn’t sound happy about it. “Hold your fire, Mr. Patton. But keep your fingers on the firing controls, just in case.”
The verdani battleships spread out, leaving obvious gaps for the incoming ships to pass through. One of the green priests said, “The treeship pilots . . . know them.”
“Who are they?” Peter asked.
The Kutuzov’s comm officer said, “The unidentified ships don’t respond to any transmissions.”
As the flurry of small vessels streaked past the picket line of CDF Mantas, the long-range imagers resolved details: the strange ships were small, featureless ovoids like armored seedpods. They bore no markings, no external lights—and, thankfully, no weapons ports.
The ninety-nine ships cruised past, wove their way among the restless verdani battleships, then dropped through the cloudy Theron atmosphere to the heart of the worldforest.
The green priests looked up from their treelings and rose to their feet. “The Gardeners have returned. We should welcome them.”
Everyone in the chamber left the fungus-reef to head outside and watch. Wisskoff started to gather up the klee service, but Rlinda was already moving out. The maître d’ said, “I suppose you’ll be wanting to offer a free banquet to all our new visitors, as well?”
“Let’s see if they’re hungry first,” she said. “And what they eat.”
Outside, the podships poured down through the sky like shooting stars. Each craft was no larger than a cargo shuttle. Finding gaps in the worldforest canopy, they landed in the expansive meadow like armored raindrops.
The teardrop-shaped podships settled down on their wide, rounded ends, with the narrower portions tilted upward. Seams appeared in their polished hulls, which split into triangular sections, unfolding like the petals of a large artificial flower.
Each podship held several creatures crowded together: small-statured and smooth-skinned, with rounded heads and heavy brows. They belonged to no race Rlinda had ever seen before, though they looked vaguely familiar.
King Peter and Queen Estarra stood together as the strange aliens emerged, beings that the green priests called Gardeners. Hundreds of them stepped out of the opening podships, filling the meadows in the forest, standing in the clearings between trees. They were eerily silent and looked gentle, contemplative.
Now the worldtrees trembled, and the green priests tapped into the verdani mind but found confusion rather than information. It was as if the worldforest were reaching for memories only to find them missing.
One of the silent creatures walked over to the nearest tree, ignoring the crowd of observers. The Gardener touched the gold-scaled bark, closed its eyes, and let out a long sigh, as if finally reconnecting with an energy source. The other aliens scurried forward to touch the trees as well, gathering information from the worldforest mind—and adding information as well.
Once the aliens made contact, the gathered green priests looked startled, their eyes open wide. Finally, the strange creatures turned, now identifying Estarra and Peter as the leaders. After drawing the information they needed from the verdani mind, they spoke in perfectly comprehensible trade standard.
“We are the last survivors of the Onthos. We are also called the Gardeners—though we have not been able to tend the blessed trees for thousands of years.”
As more and more of the Onthos tapped into the worldforest network, they acquired knowledge, language, and the details of history over a vast gulf of time. They seemed overwhelmed by their new situation . . . but more than anything, relieved.
“We were the first tenders of the worldtrees, the original worldforest that thrived on our world,” said the Onthos who had initially spoken. “That forest was entirely destroyed by the Shana Rei. In doing so, they carved out and extinguished all of those memories from the verdani mind. No one remembers . . . but us.”
The green priests in the meadow buzzed with excitement.
Amazed, Arita looked at her mother. “Where could they have
been for so long?”
The Gardener heard her question. “Darkness engulfed our world, killing all of the worldtrees. We did manage to scatter some treelings before it was too late . . . and those remnants have grown into the current worldforest.” The little aliens spread their hands in a strange unison. “It has been centuries . . . millennia since we had treelings of our own. We have nothing. We are the last refugees from the Shana Rei.”
In a choreographed pattern, the Onthos bowed, and turned to face the King and Queen. “We ask to live here with the forest in peace, to become Gardeners once again. We beg sanctuary from the creatures of darkness.”
GLOSSARY
ACADEM: Roamer school inside a hollowed-out comet, near the Roamer complex of Newstation. The school is run by Jess Tamblyn and Cesca Peroni.
ADAM, PRINCE: failed candidate to replace old King Frederick of the Hansa.
ADAR: highest military rank in Ildiran Solar Navy.
AELIN: green priest, brother of Shelud.
AGUERRA, RAYMOND: original name of King Peter.
AHLAR: Ildiran splinter colony, site of an ancient Shana Rei attack.
ALAKIS, ADAM: researcher on Vaconda, father of Zoe Alakis, died of Heidegger’s Syndrome.
ALAKIS, EVELYN: researcher on Vaconda, mother of Zoe Alakis, killed in a flyer crash when Zoe was young.
ALAKIS, ZOE: wealthy head of the Pergamus medical research facility.
ALEXA, MOTHER: wife of Idriss, former ruler of Theroc.
ARAGAO, OCTAVIO: communications officer aboard the Kutuzov.
ARBOR: Rlinda Kett’s restaurant on Theroc.
ARITA, PRINCESS: daughter of King Peter and Queen Estarra, a budding naturalist.
The Dark Between the Stars Page 65
