Hidden Empire (31 page)
“Dr. Serizawa, it’ll take weeks before anyone receives these transmissions.”
Serizawa knew that full well. He spread his palms, panicked and helpless. A man dying of a medical emergency does not write
a letter to summon an ambulance—but that was all he could do now. “Somebody’s got to know.”
The technician sent the distress call, without further argument. “Like a message in a damned bottle,” he grumbled. The transmission
went out in all directions, hoping to find someone who could hear.
The other team members used the resources aboard the observation station to record and study the moon-crushing blasts, to
image the complete destruction of the rocky satellites. “They could have become lovely terraformed worlds,” Serizawa said.
Aboard the station, they had no way to defend themselves, could only gather information, collect data… and hope the destructive
spheres did not notice them.
After the silent and ominous alien warglobes had obliterated the moon George, they moved on to Christopher.
And finally Jack. All four moons vaporized.
Serizawa was weeping now. He stood in front of the observation window, staring at the perfect spheres, and the destruction
of everything he had created at Oncier. “Why are you doing this? What have we done to you?”
The aliens had transmitted no messages, no ultimatums, no warnings or explanations. Hovering in their parking orbit far from
blazing Oncier, Serizawa and his team could not move or flee. Worst of all, they could not understand.
The fourteen monstrous ships left the destroyed satellites and paused above the funeral pyre of what had been the gas giant
Oncier. Then like a swarm of angry wasps the globes moved to surround the observation platform.
The technicians scrambled backward, away from the windows, as if they would be safer within the fragile platform. Serizawa
did not even bother to move. In the last moment, he closed his eyes.
The awesome blue lightning crackled again.
While it had taken the crystal globes some time to obliterate the four rocky moons, the total annihilation of the space platform
required only seconds.
B
ehind closed doors, the mood around the Whisper Palace was shocked and genuinely frightened. King Frederick didn’t know what
to do.
The planetary engineers and terraformers had returned to Earth at the stardrive’s maximum speed—wasting huge amounts of ekti
to deliver the terrible news. The crew had arrived on schedule at Oncier, only to find the moons blasted into rubble, the
observation platform completely vaporized. There were no survivors of Dr. Serizawa’s research and observation team. Someone,
some force, had destroyed everything.
All citizens looked to their brave and powerful King for answers, for consolation … and the old man could do nothing.
When the panicked Oncier terraformers had returned, they broadcast their news over a thousand bands, squawking like startled
chickens rushing back to their coop. The Hansa could never control or spin the news now.
In the waiting room behind the Throne Hall, Basil Wenceslas grumbled, frightening the King with his naked anger. “Damn! I
would have preferred to keep this matter classified for a while. We don’t know how to assess what’s happened. We don’t have
any answers. Everything was destroyed—but why? Was it an outside attack, or some sort of… cosmic event, like an aftershock
of the Klikiss Torch?”
“You can bet it was an attack,” said General Lanyan, who stood stiffly at attention while Basil paced the floor. He had been
recalled from the EDF base on Mars to discuss the crisis.
Frederick brushed at a speck of lint on his robes and looked around for a goblet of sweet wine. He had offered Basil a strong
drink, but the Chairman shook his head, refusing to let anything cloud his thoughts. In contrast, King Frederick very much
wanted to numb the dread he felt. “Basil, I can make an announcement that we’re investigating, but we still have no answers.
Will that put them at ease?”
Basil slammed a flat palm against a fluted Corinthian column and said sarcastically, “Good idea. Let’s tell every person in
the Hansa that we’re helpless and ignorant.”
“But we really
don’t
know what happened,” Frederick said.
“And neither do they,” Basil retorted. “A King must never let anyone see that he’s in the dark.”
Frederick took a gulp of his sweet wine and didn’t answer. He looked at the uniformed military man—
Lanyan
, not Lanson, he chided himself—and tried to shore up his confidence that the Earth Defense Forces would respond to this disaster.
The General wanted to retaliate and crush the mysterious aggressors so that peace could return to the human colony worlds.
“I may be stating the obvious, Chairman Wenceslas,” Lanyan said, “but it might have been the Ildirans. Their Solar Navy was
present at Oncier, watching our test. Maybe they felt threatened because we have such powerful technology. Who else could
it have been?”
“It’s a big universe, General, filled with many things we don’t understand,” the King said. “We’ve explored only a portion
of one spiral arm in our galaxy—”
“Frederick,” Basil interrupted, sounding exasperated, “even the Ildirans with all their history have never encountered another
alien race. I don’t want to muddy the issue by making up bogeymen. The threat of war with the Ildirans is frightening enough.
On the other hand, General, I am also highly skeptical that the Solar Navy has weaponry approaching the power necessary for
such destruction.”
“True. This has got to be something new, and the Ildirans have been stagnant for centuries.” Lanyan walked to one of the triangular
windows that looked out upon the Moon Statue Garden. Topiary shrubs and ornate sculptures spread across hundreds of acres
on the Whisper Palace grounds. “And it wasn’t a ragtag group of pirates like Rand Sorengaard. The Roamers might want revenge
against us, but they certainly don’t have the technology to destroy whole moons.”
After Basil’s scolding, Frederick kept his thoughts to himself. Since the geology was so unstable during the rapid warming
of the moons, perhaps the satellites had simply broken apart by themselves. Plenty of tidal forces, tectonic heat expansion,
explosive gas volatilization … but it was ridiculous to think that Jack, George, Ben, and Christopher would all self-destruct
at once, and that the flying rubble could have coincidentally destroyed the distant observation platform.
“We must find out what provoked this, and who did it,” Basil said. “We haven’t heard of any other attacks, have we?”
The General shook his head. “But then, without widespread telink, it takes months for news to trickle around the Hansa colonies,
and even longer to get verifiable reports from within the Ildiran Empire.”
Basil’s face darkened at the reminder. “If we had more green priests at regular checkpoints around the Spiral Arm, we wouldn’t
have this communications problem.”
The King decided it was time to act regal. “By my scepter and sword, Basil, no need to complicate the issue with old sore
spots. The people are clamoring for answers. How shall I respond right now? I value your advice.”
Basil frowned at him. “You listen to my orders.” The King tried not to look stung by the rebuff. “Then give me orders, Basil.
Tell me what to do.”
At night, as seen from above by dignitaries in observation zeppelins, the Whisper Palace looked like a celebration of candles.
Eternal torches burned from every spire and cupola, every lantern post and bridge pillar. The crowds in the square, people
streaming across the bridge over the Royal Canal, and those holding special invitations to wait on the Palace grounds proper—all
held candles or lights of their own.
Led by a procession of his advisers, accompanied by one of the green priests stationed on Earth, and followed by numerous
uniformed envoys from important Hansa colony worlds, Old King Frederick marched along a promenade to the bridge. Royal guards
opened a path for him. Crowds raised their candles and illumination globes high.
Out in the press of people, surrounded by an uneasy space, a single Klikiss robot stood, just watching. It made Frederick
uneasy, and he frowned.
King Frederick’s advisers had robed him in the muted blacks and purples of mourning. He walked with a ponderous step, as if
he carried a great weight on his mantled shoulders. The processional music was deep and slow, like a dirge. The Archfather
of Unison had already led the audience in prayer, issuing consoling words. The Archfather’s main purpose was to keep them
soothed—not much different from the King’s task.
The crowds simmered into a restless quiet as Frederick finally reached the end of the suspension bridge spanning the Royal
Canal, where four iron lampposts stood like sentinels, their flames hissing and burning skyward.
Basil would be watching from a high balcony inside the Whisper Palace’s main cupola. He had directed the technicians, so they
knew what to do. Timing would be important.
Frederick had made mistakes lately, he knew, but this time he called upon his best powers of oratory, summoning raw emotion
and speaking with all the grief he could put into his face and his thoughts. Real tears glistened at the corners of his eyes,
and one tracked down his cheek. The close-up cameras would catch that.
The King’s voice boomed out, rich and paternal. “For many years, the Terran Hanseatic League has helped humanity to expand
across the Spiral Arm. We have established footholds on many new worlds, carrying our civilization to the galactic community.
But even in the face of such glorious progress and accomplishments, we unfortunately falter.” He paused, as if drawing strength.
“Not long ago I announced our creation of a new sun through human drive and ingenuity. Its family of moons were to be developed
into new colonies.”
Frederick hung his head. “But now, sadly, I feel like a parent who has lost his children. In an unprovoked attack, an unknown
aggressor has snuffed out our hope for these vital new worlds, which were named in honor of my predecessors. We must understand
why this has happened. And then we must avenge.”
He lifted his head to study the burning flames that sparkled from the bridge pillars. “But first we must mourn.”
Frederick approached four bridge pillars that symbolized the four destroyed moons. He reached out to the first towering post.
“These flames were meant to be eternal, glowing in recognition of human-settled worlds. Now, alas, these four must be extinguished.”
He touched the metal base of the nearest pillar. Inside the Palace, Basil’s technicians shut off the flame, symbolically extinguishing
the glowing fire.
When all four bridge pillars were dark, the King stepped back and raised his hands to the crowds. “This is the first time
in all Terran history that a King has been forced to do this.”
The crowd seemed stricken. The dismay and uneasiness would spread across the Hansa worlds.
“Let us pray it will be the last.”
T
heron work crews converted the empty worm hive into a new dwelling complex while Estarra spent time with Beneto and his treelings.
She knelt beside him, and he guided her with sure fingers, showing where to soften the dirt, how much water to add.
With a rustle of underbrush and quiet sniffing sobs, Celli rushed into the clearing, her face streaked with tears. “Beneto,
something’s happened to my condorfly. Please look. You’ll know what’s wrong with him.” In her arms she carried her dog-sized
pet condorfly. Its wings were spread like drooping sails.
Sarein would have scolded Celli for childish infatuation with a brainless insect, but Beneto gave the girl a look of deepest
sympathy. “Come with me. Your condorfly will like the open meadows, where it naturally wants to be.” He stroked the condorfly’s
elongated glossy head. The eight segmented legs twitched and skittered as if it were climbing a giant flower in its dreams.
He led his sisters through tall weeds and rustling grasses, around the massive trunks of worldtrees to a meadow full of lilies
the size of juice vats. Other condorflies flew in the meadow. Celli’s pet seemed to perk up in the new environment, its wings
vibrating, trembling.
