Hidden Empire (23 page)
Mother Alexa said, “After much discussion, we have decided to appoint our daughter Sarein as the new ambassador to Earth.
She has studied with the Hansa and is familiar with many powerful people on that planet, including Chairman Wenceslas. There
is no one more qualified for the job.”
Otema did not let her disappointment show. She narrowed her hard eyes and looked at Sarein, who seemed pleased with her appointment.
“Your daughter is a very intelligent and capable young woman, but she is not a green priest. Is that not a necessary criterion
for serving the worldforest and speaking for Theroc?”
Idriss made a dismissive gesture. “Not so. Do
we
not speak for Theroc? Besides, she will have access to green priests in the Whisper Palace, should she need to consult with
us through telink.”
“That is not entirely the concern,” Otema said. “It is a matter of… understanding nuances.”
Sarein stepped forward, keeping a quiet face that belied her obvious undercurrent of annoyance. “On the contrary, Lady Ambassador,
as the daughter of Father Idriss and Mother Alexa, I can provide a unique perspective and understanding of the worldforest
and Theron ways. Unlike the green priests, however, I also have a grasp of new and changing commercial practices within the
Terran Hanseatic League.” She raised her eyebrows in an aloof expression. “Such matters may not be clear to someone who is
immersed in a one-sided view of interstellar commerce.”
Startled, Otema stood straight, realizing that she had been outmaneuvered. Disturbed by the eagerness and drive that was so
apparent in Sarein’s manner—yet somehow invisible to her doting parents—Otema bowed in acquiescence. “I will do my duty.”
Formally, she unfastened the clasp of her ambassadorial cloak and removed the ornate fabric, holding it out like a matador’s
cape. “Sarein, I present you with this emblem of your new office. Take these robes and serve the worldforest well.”
Somewhat uncomfortably, Sarein accepted the cloak, but draped it over her arm rather than wrapping it around her shoulders.
Now barely clad, her skin such a dark green it was almost black, Otema excused herself from the throne chamber. She sketched
a final bow to the two rulers and walked toward the exit arch. “If you need me for further consultation, I will be communing
with the worldforest.”
N
ervous yet eager, with a thrill unmatched by anything she’d ever experienced, Nira Khali went deep into the forest. Alone.
There, she would survive through the grace and protection of the worldtrees.
As an acolyte, she had spent her life waiting for this moment. She had devoted every waking hour to praying and studying how
to serve the sentient forest, how to become an integral part in Theroc’s overall ecosystem.
With a smiling Yarrod and other proud green priests watching her, the young woman ran off, barefoot and bright-eyed. Wearing
no more than a loincloth, Nira spared only a moment to wave farewell before she dashed through the low foliage and vanished
into the thickening worldforest, far from the settlements.
She swallowed with uncertain nervousness at how greatly her life would soon change. Then she drew a deep breath of the spicy
foliage, heard the rustle of dry leaves against her feet, and took strength in the reassuring closeness of the awesome worldtrees.
She belonged here.
After this day, Nira would no longer be alone, as a completely separate individual. Soon, if the forest accepted her, she
would become a part of something much more. Joy and anticipation made her footsteps light.
“I am coming.” Her voice was quiet, but spoken to the millions of sentient trees across Theroc and in satellite groves on
other planets.
Yarrod had not instructed her where to go, but Nira instinctively ran away from paths where humans usually wandered. Around
her and high above, the broad palmate leaves brushed together, making a sound like encouraging whispers. She followed her
instincts, and the forest guided her.
She descended gentle hills and made her way into moist lowlands, where weeds grew at the confluence of tiny streams. She splashed
through the bog, long blades of grass brushing her calves. The mud grew softer. She had never been here before, but some part
of her recognized this place.
Creeks eddied into stagnant marshes, where the clear water became choked with tiny floating plants, creating a slurry of sludgelike
vegetation. Nira looked around, seeing sunlight dapple patterns across the marsh. A person could easily get lost here, step
into a deep pool of living quicksand.
But Nira allowed herself no doubts. She ran ahead without slowing, letting the forest guide her. She knew where to find stepping-stones
and fallen logs, even if they were hidden beneath the surface. She’d never heard the worldforest so clearly in her mind before.
Around her she saw ominous movement, ferocious reptiles that cruised through the weed-laden water—scuttling predators with
scaled hides and long fangs. Today, Nira accepted them without fear. Muscular and fast, they glided through the soupy undergrowth,
watching her every step, waiting for her to trip. But Nira hopped from one moss-slick stone to another, never losing her balance.
She skipped across a slimed tree trunk and raced to the other side of the bog, leaving the sleek predators to watch her with
yellow slitted eyes. Nira ran on.
Any time she could not clearly decide which direction to go, she simply flung her arms around the trunk of the nearest worldtree
and pressed her naked chest against the scaled bark. When her skin touched the tree, the guiding thoughts sharpened inside
her and she ran off again, energized. Nira paid no heed to the passing hours or the burbling wilderness.
Finally, the forest grew dark and thick with green shadows like smoky glass. The darkness was comforting, womblike, not ominous.
Nira parted branches, tall stalks of grasses and weeds, working her way deeper into a network of vines … until the forest
swallowed her up entirely.
She could not move. Her shoulders pressed against firm branches that tangled tighter. Insistent vines wrapped around her legs.
Leaves brushed her face, her nose, her lips. Nira closed her eyes and let the forest touch her.
She felt as if she were falling, though her body remained propped up. She could barely twitch her fingers as the jungle clasped
her, embraced her… absorbed her.
There, deep in the thickest worldforest, Nira passed uncounted hours in a mystical experience. She saw through eyes in the
leaves, looking through a million faceted lenses at all perspectives of the worldforest. Information and impressions roared
around her in a rushing torrent.
As if through distorted windows, she glimpsed other planets, other worldtree groves that had been planted and fostered by
green priest missionaries. She’d never imagined anything so vast, so complex—yet, even with the assistance and encouragement
of the worldtrees around her now, she was seeing only the tiniest glimpse of the forest’s potential.
It was breathtaking.
Then the heart of the worldforest spoke to her more clearly, more terribly. She felt a distant, unformed fear of an ancient
enemy.
Fire
.
Destruction
.
The death of worlds
.
Groves of treelings withered, whole civilizations died, and only a tiny vestige of a galaxy-spanning worldforest had survived
here, isolated on Theroc
.
Nira couldn’t cry out, could not decide whether these terrible images and fears were history, or prophecy. Then she saw giant
spherical ships, like spiked globes made of ice, a hidden empire engaged in a titanic war.
They were coming
.
Shaken by the vision, but giddy with her new connection to the worldtrees, Nira finally emerged from the smothering, nurturing
hold of the sentient forest. Her heart hammered, and the prophecy weighed heavy in her mind and heart. This wasn’t what she
had expected at all.
Nira walked along as if in a daze, stepping through the bog without even looking at the ground. The feline reptiles moved
away from her as if they could sense that she now wore the forest’s protection. As the sunlight splashed her arms and thighs,
Nira noticed without surprise that her flesh had turned a pale green. Now her epidermis was impregnated with symbiotic algae,
a verdant tone that would supplement her body’s strength through photosynthesis. As she aged, the green would darken.
Nira touched her close-cropped hair, and the stubbly fuzz fell out like grains of pollen. Even her eyebrows and eyelashes
dropped away.
In her mind now, she could hear the trees like constant companions, an organic database and a half-sleeping mind all around
her. It would always be there for her. She would never experience utter silence and aloneness again. The knowledge felt glorious,
the infinite thoughts and memories … along with the terrible fear of an impending disaster. How was she to deal with it all?
With rapid footsteps and a determined expression on her face, Nira raced back to the settlement where she could at last join
the other green priests as a full member of their order. And she had to warn them of the danger the worldforest had shown
her.
When Nira breathlessly described her awesome vision to Yarrod, though, the green priests around him simply nodded. Their faces
showed bleak foreboding.
“We already know,” Yarrod said.
B
ecause he was the commander of the Earth Defense Forces, General Kurt Lanyan could use the full facilities of the war simulations
room any time he wished. Filled with computers, holographic projectors, interactive systems, and detailed navigational charts,
the sealed chamber was the most sophisticated and expensive room on the entire Mars EDF base for Grid 1.
In here, with all the resources and intelligence data compiled over nearly two centuries of interaction with the Ildiran Empire,
Lanyan could get his answers … or at least make reasonable guesses. Many questions remained about the culture, habits, reactions,
and secrets of the alien civilization, and the General wanted to be prepared for any possibility.
During early Terran expansion into the solar system, before humans had access to the Ildiran stardrive, the EDF had taken
possession of Mars as its sole property. The lifeless red planet had become a training base and military headquarters, oper-
ated as an outpost and staging area. The rugged Martian landscape provided any number of obstacle courses and survival scenarios.
The thin atmosphere allowed Remoras to simulate aerial maneuvers with an easy switch over to space combat in the vacuum above.
Lanyan loved it here.
After giving orders that he was not to be disturbed, the General had sealed himself into the war simulations room. He called
up the complex virtual systems he had developed from years of testing, toying with possibilities, modifying results with every
scrap of data he could acquire about the aliens. He wished Basil Wenceslas would send out more spies, but Lanyan would make
do with the available intelligence. It was enough to run plenty of scenarios.
Now he stood in the center of the room, speaking to the voice-activated control boards. The curved matte walls and floor dimmed,
becoming black and star-studded. He felt as if he floated in the center of a spherical three-dimensional planetarium; it reminded
him of when he was just a space soldier, training for zero-G combat, floating all alone in the vacuum, ready to shoot mirrorized
drone targets.
“Display typical Ildiran Solar Navy.” He put his hands on his hips and turned around. “One entire maniple. Let’s make it a
vigorous engagement.”
Images appeared, fuzzy shapes that sharpened into accurate representations of forty-nine Ildiran warliners and cutters. Lanyan
paced around the images like a shark cruising through a school of fish. The gaudy warliners were large disks tilted on their
sides with streaming heat-radiator fins that made them look like deep-sea predators. Knowing what he did about the aliens,
Lanyan suspected that the gaudy extensions and strange shapes were ceremonial or decorative. Peacock feathers, with no military
purpose whatsoever.
