Hidden Empire (48 page)
The engineer looked embarrassed. “I already sent her a report carried on the last ekti escort.”
Berndt had run his previous skymine at a profit, though that had been more of a happy coincidence than a result of his skill.
But here on Erphano, he could take personal credit for the success. He had never missed a scheduled delivery of ekti, though
delays should have been frequent, even expected, during the first shakedown year of operation.
His wife and daughter were now aboard, and he was pleased to see the admiration on their faces. After his rough-and-tumble
early years, Berndt was glad he could finally give his daughter something to look up to. He had earned it. The new skymine
was even more productive than expected.
His only problem was how to shake off the superstitious dread that disaster was bound to strike soon.
All Roamers had been uneasy since the destruction of the Golgen skymine, and further disturbed to learn of the alien attack
on the Hansa moons at Oncier. Even with vigilant scouts watching all the unrecorded Roamer facilities, no one knew exactly
what to look for—or what actions had provoked the devastating attacks in the first place.
Hearing someone else ascending the metal ladder, he turned to see his daughter Junna hurrying up to the bridge deck. The twelve-year-old
was a captain in training and loved to watch the facility in operation. Waving a greeting to Junna, Berndt turned to the still-waiting
engineer, finally realizing what Clarin wanted. “All right, you’ve done everything my grandmother asked you to do. Pack up
your things and be ready to return to Rendezvous with the next cargo escort. Our holding tanks are already eighty percent
full, and the escort pilot should come to transport them to the distribution center within a few days. Go follow your Guiding
Star.”
Smiling broadly, Eldon Clarin thanked him and hurried off.
Junna stood next to her father at the arm of the chief’s chair. When she was younger, the girl had actually sat on the arm,
imitating her father’s commands. Now she just stared out at the clouds, looking very mature. Berndt thought his daughter would
become a fine skyminer one day, perhaps without the wasted years of rowdy misbehavior that her father had exhibited.
“Is that a storm?” Junna pointed toward an intense knot of clouds. “Looks like it’s changing fast.”
Lights shone from deep below, flickering flares that spread outward in a bloom of ripples. The clouds began to move like maelstroms
somehow cutting against the jet stream.
“Much too fast for a storm. Good work spotting it, though, Junna.” He reached over to pat the girl’s shoulder, then raised
his voice to the technicians. “So, what is it?”
“Solid objects moving upward,” one said. “Not part of normal weather patterns. It’s rising directly beneath us.”
Berndt felt a chill, thinking suddenly about Golgen. Was this what Ross Tamblyn had seen, moments before the attack? Maybe
Berndt was just spooked, but he would not let the same thing happen here. “Sound emergency bells!”
“Sir?” the meteorologist asked.
“Do it! I’m not taking a chance.” Junna looked alarmed, but Berndt paid attention only to the changing phenomena in the clouds
below. “If I’m wrong, you can make your jokes. If I’m right, you can thank me.”
Then, accompanied by a crackle of blue lightning that sent a horrified thrill down his spine, five ominous diamond-skinned
spheres broke through Erphano’s high cloud deck—attack globes from a civilization no human could comprehend.
“Junna, go get your mother. Now!” The girl turned in panic. She suddenly looked very young. Berndt stood up from his command
chair and gave Junna a push toward the ladder. “Get as many crew members aboard the scout ships as you can and launch away
from the skymine.”
“You’re evacuating, sir?” asked the shift boss.
“Now!” he yelled. “Scatter while you can.”
The diamond globes rose toward the defenseless Erphano skymine. Alarms shrieked louder while the bridge crew scrambled. Announcements
bellowed through the intercoms. Berndt Okiah damned himself for not foreseeing this specific situation, for not conducting
more drills, but even so his people reacted quickly and efficiently, including Junna.
Berndt went to the communications console, shoving the technician aside and telling her to get a seat aboard one of the scout
vessels. He broadcast an open frequency signal. “Alien ships, we mean you no harm. We are here in peace.” He waited, but no
signals throbbed through the Erphano skymine. “We are no threat to you. Please communicate. Tell us what you want.”
Again, no reply.
Already, a flurry of tiny scout ships launched from the drifting facility, streaking off into the open clouds toward what
they hoped was safety. But each of those ships could hold a maximum of three, maybe four people. Berndt couldn’t possibly
get all of his crew away in time.
The five alien globes climbed to the level of the skymine, shimmering, hiding misty secrets inside their murky cores. Each
curved vessel was immense, a diameter larger than six Roamer cloud mines. Berndt Okiah had seen these awful things on the
images the EDF had captured from Oncier.
The pyramidal protrusions from the smooth hulls crackled with rising intensity. Blue lightning skittered from point to point,
building up.
The skymine’s bridge deck was empty now, except for himself and two crew members who had stayed behind. “Maybe they want the
ekti!” an old veteran shouted.
Alien pirates who also wanted to steal stardrive fuel? Berndt thought. No explanation made sense. His fingers danced over
the controls, disengaging the transport container filled with the valuable hydrogen allotrope. He broadcast on all channels,
“Take our cargo, but please don’t harm us. We have three hundred souls onboard—families, women and children.” The plea sounded
foolish even as he spoke. How could an alien care about such things?
Cargo canisters of ekti dropped away, and Berndt moved the skymine across the sky, hauling the large facility away at its
clumsy top speed. The expensive cargo tumbled into Erphano’s clouds like an offering … or a ransom. Berndt’s heart fell when
the alien globes ignored the ekti and continued to close in on the skymine.
He could easily have rigged the fuel canisters to detonate. Perhaps the explosion would have been great enough to crack open
one of the diamond globes … but most likely not. And there were
five
of the city-sized monstrosities. Though they had not yet opened fire, he knew he was doomed either way.
“Time to separate the habitation module,” Berndt said, his last desperate measure. “We’ll have to sacrifice the skymine and
hope the aliens follow the larger factory and let us get away.”
Bolts and clamps blasted apart as their connectors were broken. The separable main deck rose away from the lumbering industrial
facility, carrying most of the skymine’s crew members. Looking chagrined but defiant, young Junna climbed back onto the bridge
deck. Before Berndt could shout at his daughter for not making good her escape, his wife climbed up beside him. “Oh, Marta!”
His heart melted, and he shook his head, wanting to damn them for the foolish love that might now cost them their lives.
The alien warglobes ignored the scout ships that had flown away from the skymine. Even so, once the main facility was destroyed,
those small craft would have no place to land, nowhere to refuel. The construction yards in the broken moons of Erphano had
been abandoned after the skymine launch. Berndt prayed to the Guiding Star that some rescue would come before the escapees’
life-support systems ran out and the tiny crafts plunged one by one into the limitless atmosphere.
Even after Berndt had scuttled the skymine in the high clouds, the relentless crystal globes advanced on the separable bridge
deck.
His wife and daughter stood beside Berndt at the command chair, and he reached out to clasp them, pulling his family close.
He knew in his heart that whatever these creatures were, they didn’t want the ekti after all, didn’t want any part of the
Roamer skymines.
They just wanted to destroy humans.
Blue lightning lashed out. Berndt clutched his wife and daughter. An instant of incinerating electricity vaporized metal and
glass, too fast for him to draw a breath. Then he, his family, and the whole escape module became a soup of blasted atoms.
I
t took Prime Designate Jora’h several days to arrange a formal presentation to the awesome Mage-Imperator himself. Carrying
their potted treelings as gifts, Nira and Otema entered the fabulous skysphere reception hall.
The transparent, faceted Prism Palace surrounded them, and Nira thought she had stepped into the heart of a gigantic gem.
The walls were made of interlocked blown-glass bubbles. Attached to the nucleus were seven smaller globes, chambers with towers
connected to the upper skysphere. Elevator tubes ran like longitudinal veins within the main dome; smaller spheres housed
the foundations of the Ildiran government, the ministries of economy, agriculture, colonization, military, urban affairs,
medicine, and kith relations.
Favoring Nira with his hypnotic smile, the Prime Designate joined them at the entrance to the primary audience sphere. He
touched Nira’s shoulder, nudging her forward. “By now you have probably grown bored with all of our marvelous sights.”
Her smile was sparkling and sincere. “How could one ever grow weary of so much energy … so much excitement? My brain aches
from trying to comprehend it all, but I don’t ever want to stop.”
Jora’h laughed, a musical and heartwarming sound. “You are so refreshing, Nira.” He led them into a bustling open hall filled
with courtesans and functionaries, all born of the sleek and human-looking noble kith. Slender and attractive, they wore clothes
tailored to fit their lean bodies. The hairless women were painted and decorated with colorful swirling designs. Many wore
shimmering electrostatic hoods projected from their collars, tuned to colors that matched their gowns and cloaks.
Enchanted, Nira stepped into the flow with Jora’h close beside her. Otema followed formally, her head held high and her expression
neutral. The Iron Lady did not seem impressed by the beauty around her, but Nira was openly curious, and she expressed sufficient
astonishment for both of them.
Above the central dome hung a second globe open at the bottom so that it formed an artificially enclosed sky, an enormous
suspended terrarium. Matted foliage, flowers, and vines dangled through the opening. Misters sprayed into the gaps, making
the leaves sparkle. Exotic alien analogues of hummingbirds and butterflies filled the dome, flitting back and forth to sample
nectar or sip from tiny pools of water caught in the cupped palms of jewel-bright leaves.
“What keeps the birds and butterflies inside?” she asked. “Why don’t they fly down here?”
“A discourager field drives them back, but subtly. They don’t even know they are contained.” Jora’h stepped forward. “Come,
let us meet my father. We must take care of our important business before you distract me, dear Nira, and make me want to
show you even more interesting areas of the Prism Palace.”
“Prime Designate,” Otema chided, “meeting the Mage-Imperator is of greater interest than anything else you could show us.”
The two women walked forward, cradling their potted treelings. The plants drank in the delicious brilliance of the seven suns.
Nira’s green skin had darkened since they had arrived here. Though at times she longed for the cool darkness of a forest night,
she never felt tired or bored. She had eaten many delicacies, and her skin supplied additional nourishment, so that she needed
far less rest than before.
In his chrysalis chair sat the mighty Mage-Imperator himself. High above him, intersecting jets of mist formed a hazy cloud
upon which a hologram of the leader’s round face was projected. Hanging like a full moon beneath the opening of the skysphere,
the ruler’s image moved its lips as he spoke to sycophants standing below him on the polished floor. A shaft of light rose
upward from the rim of the sturdy bedlike throne in a glowing pillar that intersected the benevolent projection overhead.
Seeing them approach with his eldest son, the Mage-Imperator abruptly dismissed two nobles, who bowed and backed away. The
handsome Prime Designate strode forward, his fine golden braids standing out around his head like a mane. He beckoned to the
women. “Come.” Beaming with pleasure, he led Nira and Otema into his father’s presence beneath the open skysphere. “Father,
my Mage-Imperator, I am pleased to formally present these two visitors from Theroc.”
Nira gazed at the pasty, sluggish leader in his womblike throne. She could see no resemblance between him and the virile animal
magnetism of Prime Designate Jora’h.
The Mage-Imperator stirred from his reclining position. “All are welcome to make a pilgrimage to Mijistra, even humans. Our
two cultures have much to learn from each other.”
Jora’h had obviously heard those words before. He reached out to touch Nira’s shoulder, and she felt his comforting presence,
close and warm. “Father, these are green priests, servants of the Theron worldforest, revered practitioners of telink. They
can communicate instantaneously across great distances.”
