Scattered Suns (15 page)

Chapter 27—OSIRA’H

The trinary system of Durris comprised three of the seven prominent suns in the Ildiran sky. Osira’h thought the star grouping looked beautiful, unlike anything she had seen at home on Dobro.

As their fast ship approached the center of the Empire, though, the girl could see that one of the suns was doomed.

Durris was composed of a white star and a yellow star tied closely together, and a red dwarf orbiting the mutual center of mass. The unstable celestial configuration had long ago ejected all large planets from the system, leaving only a halo of rubble on the outer fringes. Few Ildirans had any reason to go to Durris, except en route to someplace else.

Flying past, Osira’h and the Dobro Designate discovered that the trinary’s yellow star was aswarm with clashing hydrogue warglobes and faeros fireballs. Judging by the flares and dark spots across the sun’s photosphere, the titanic battle had already dealt the star a mortal blow. One of the seven suns of Ildira was going to die!

“Sound an alarm,” Udru’h called to the pilot of their ship. “Send a message to inform the Mage-Imperator of what we have seen!”

As the pilot flew past Durris-B, Osira’h joined her uncle at a viewing window. She did not know what the great Mage-Imperator could do against such a disaster, but she kept her silence.

She stared with glittering eyes at the swarms of alien ships locked in titanic and incomprehensible battle, where the very fabric of the universe was a battlefield. Flares ripped through the roiling photosphere, followed by a blinding armada of ellipsoid faeros ships that collided with a thousand diamond-hulled warglobes in the sea of flames.

Osira’h clenched her small hands. No matter what lies her uncle had told her, this was real...and devastating. How could even the eternal Ildiran Empire survive a conflict such as this?

“What will stop them from spreading to the other Ildiran stars?” she asked him in quiet awe.

She knew his answer before he spoke it. “
You
will.”

The girl’s destiny was to go amongst the hydrogues, use her special telepathic ability to meld with the incomprehensible race, and convince them to negotiate with the Mage-Imperator. Other than the treacherous Klikiss robots, no one had succeeded in communicating with the deep-core aliens.

Udru’h looked at her, sensing her hesitation, though she had not spoken aloud. “The climax of hundreds of generations is unfolding in you. So many people have made sacrifices to create a person with your singular potential. You must not let them—or me—down.”

The Designate squeezed her shoulder and gave her a paternal smile, trusting that she would do anything for him. He had always been so kind to her.
But not to all those other human breeding captives...

The girl turned away from him, full of conflicting emotions and unspoken questions about his motives and his past crimes. Before her mother had revealed the truth to her, Osira’h had always enjoyed making this man proud of her. Before...

She stared at the dying sun, the clamor of giant alien ships, the surging weapons of solar flares and impossible icewave blasts. Her answer was clear, regardless of her other feelings. “I won’t let you down.”

Chapter 28—TASIA TAMBLYN

The dry world had once been a bustling center of the Klikiss civilization, and the Earth government intended for Llaro to be much more than a barracks planet for a few prisoners of war.

When the three carriers full of Roamer detainees landed near the main Klikiss ruins, Tasia looked out at the tan rocks, the fantastic curving formations that had once been inhabited hives. “It’s not exactly the garden spot of the Galaxy, EA, but at least it isn’t a hellhole. Roamers have been perfectly happy with places worse than this.”

“Yes, Master Tasia Tamblyn,” EA said. “You have given me a general history of the original clan settlements.”

“Factual summaries, not actual memories.”

“I’m afraid that’s all I can have.”

Before being dispatched here, Tasia had seen a sketchy but official EDF map of the Llaro settlement. Now, even from the air she noticed the progress in building and excavations: A main flat area had been cleared as a spaceport for EDF transport ships, personnel carriers, and local short-distance craft. Adjacent to the landing zone stood a new Eddy base erected to monitor the Roamer detainees from Hurricane Depot and Rendezvous. Predictably, the military base was laid out on a rigid grid, as if it had come out of a box and been assembled according to directions.

Slightly less regimented, but still composed of prefab structures, was a new colony town of free settlers. Eager volunteers who had accepted the Hansa’s offer of free land and assistance had come here through a nexus of Klikiss transportals and erected their homes, ready to scratch out an existence here.

And then all the fresh Roamer prisoners had been dumped among them. The first batch of detainees from Hurricane Depot had established their own encampment on the outskirts of the colony town. Ostensibly a temporary settlement, what the Roamers had built looked like an old bazaar of awnings, tents, and nonstandard structures. Pennants, clan banners, and curtains defiantly proclaimed their family identities, even in captivity.

And now she was bringing another large group of captives to join them.

Tasia waited on the flight deck as the detainees were released from the carriers. They had no assigned guards, strict rules, or regimentation; her orders were just to turn them loose on the planet. Llaro had no fences, no curfews, but it wasn’t as if they could go anywhere.

Angry and uneasy, the new arrivals gathered under Llaro’s pink-and-lavender skies, milling around in front of the personnel transports, waiting for someone to tell them what to do. Tasia knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. She straightened her uniform and went down with EA to address the group. She owed it to them, and to herself, to look them in the eyes...even if it wasn’t necessarily a good idea.

Admiral Willis had cautioned her about getting too close to the captives. “I don’t want to find you strung up with your throat slit just because the Roamers question the wisdom of your career choice.”

“They aren’t like that.” Tasia hoped her assessment was right. She’d been isolated from the clans for almost eight years now, out of touch since she’d joined the Earth Defense Forces.

She did not let herself show anxiety as she and EA stepped out to stand on the landing field. The crowds turned toward her. Tasia looked just like any other Eddy officer with her close-cropped hair and her clean formal uniform. No one would ever recognize her as a Roamer, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to point it out.

Though the EDF had issued the refugees standard jumpsuits and toiletry items, most of the new prisoners still clung to their rumpled old clothes with clan markings embroidered on pockets and along seams. Tasia didn’t blame them.

The prisoners looked disoriented, some disappointed and others relieved, as they gazed around the open landscape. One man, whom she recognized as Crim Tylar from long-ago clan gatherings, kept glancing at Tasia as if on the verge of remembering something. He stared at EA, then back at Tasia. She met his eyes and waited, not willing to volunteer the information. Finally he said, “You’ve got a Tamblyn look about you.”

“Tasia Tamblyn, daughter of Bram.”

“I thought so.” Tylar scowled. “You joined the Eddies after Blue Sky Mine was destroyed.”

“I joined them to fight hydrogues.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He gave her a mocking look. “What do your uncles have to say about all this? They must be so proud.”

The sarcasm bit deep, but she did not flinch. “I haven’t had a chance to see them. It’s not as if the EDF lets me go off to visit hidden Roamer settlements.”

“I bet they’d like that...with a nice tracer on your ship? Or did you tell them where our greenhouses were, and Hurricane Depot, and Rendezvous—”

Tasia’s eyes flashed. “I did no such thing.”

Marla Chan stood beside her husband. “Were you part of the raid that wrecked Rendezvous? Were you on the ships that attacked Hhrenni?”

“I don’t agree with that policy, and I had no part in any action against Roamers. My superiors have pulled me from the theater. I accepted this assignment so that I could help Roamer detainees. It’s the best I can do.”

Crim Tylar sniffed. “You could steal a ship and just go. Any Roamer could figure out how.”

“Then how would I help all the people here? And how would I ever fight the hydrogues? I have to believe the Big Goose will come to its senses soon—”

“Sure, as soon as we’re all exterminated!”

The other crowded Roamers were beginning to grumble. Tasia squared her shoulders and raised her voice. “I am not your enemy. I plan to do everything within my authority to make your time here on Llaro bearable. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you knew my father, my brothers, and my uncles, then I hope you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt.”

Tylar glanced pointedly at her crisp EDF uniform, her rank insignia. “There doesn’t seem to be much doubt.”

“I’ll see to it that you’re settled here with the other Roamers. You’ll be safe and comfortable until this whole mess is resolved. I hope it’s over swiftly.”

“It won’t be over soon,” Marla said. “Not the way the Eddies keep stomping on us. Rendezvous and Hurricane Depot are destroyed, the clans are scattered across the Spiral Arm. Nobody even knows where the Speaker is.”

Feeling uneasy and awkward, Tasia didn’t know how to answer. Finally, she turned to her compy. “EA, see to it that my crew helps get these people set up in barracks or camps, whichever they prefer.”

“Yes, Master Tasia. I will talk to them and let them tell me their needs.”

She watched as the first groups of Roamer captives from the existing encampment came forward to meet the new arrivals. The merciful glare of sun in her eyes prevented her from seeing the sour and skeptical expressions around her.

Chapter 29—ADAR ZAN’NH

When a smug Thor’h came to the maniple’s flagship, he had orders to escort the still-uncooperative Zan’nh to the surface of Hyrillka. The disgraced Prime Designate brought three times as many guard kithmen with him as the Adar could possibly have hoped to fight off, especially now that he felt disconnected from the strong foundation of
thism
. Good, at least they were still afraid of him.

As they marched toward the royal shuttle in the docking bay, from which all stains of blood and death had been scoured, Thor’h looked at his brother. “Though you have given your word, I know you have no intention of truly surrendering. You do not look to me like a man who is defeated.”

“I am not defeated. I still have my honor.”

Thor’h chuckled. “Pery’h kept his honor—and died. Meanwhile, I am still Prime Designate.” His thin lips curved upward in a wolfish smile.

“The Mage-Imperator has stripped you of that title.” The guards stared at Zan’nh, as if reconsidering their decision not to put him in shackles.

Thor’h looked serene instead of annoyed. “And in turn we have stripped him of
his
title as Mage-Imperator. That is more important. I am the Prime Designate to the true Imperator now.”

“The truth is the truth,” Zan’nh retorted. “Reality is not decided by the opinions of a few rebels.”

The shuttle descended toward Hyrillka. Despite his brave face, the Adar felt disoriented. His mind wavered. As the crews of each of the warliners faded away from him, torn loose from the
thism,
he became more and more isolated, like a man slowly losing pieces of himself, one limb at a time.

Though the numbers of Ildirans around him remained undiminished, Zan’nh could not feel them as he normally sensed the comforting presence of his people. Ildirans could not function well alone and required a critical mass of their minds to keep them all joined together. Now the Adar of the Ildiran Solar Navy was becoming blind and deaf to a comforting foundation he had always taken for granted.

As he sat in the shuttle in grim and angry silence, Zan’nh recalled when he and Adar Kori’nh had gone together to an eerily empty skymine drifting above the haunted clouds of Daym. The two men alone had not been enough to keep themselves strong and stable, even with a fully crewed warliner riding high above them, and they had left the place quickly.

Cut off, he now felt his connection to the Mage-Imperator grow tenuous and uncertain. He remained aware of his father in the far-off Prism Palace, and he was certain Jora’h understood that something dangerous and unexpected had happened to the warliners...but he could not send a clear message. No details, just a sharp anxiety. The Mage-Imperator would know the loss of all the warliner crews as they faded from the
thism
. Would he assume those Ildiran soldiers were dead? Would Jora’h assume his own Adar had failed completely?

In truth, Zan’nh knew he had.

As they approached the tiled spaceport landing field, Zan’nh looked through the shuttle’s window, silently gathering information. The visible cropland across Hyrillka had been reseeded with nialia plantmoths in order to produce vast amounts of shiing. Over the past year, many structures had been rebuilt in the wake of the hydrogue attack. The new buildings looked austere and functional, without the colorful frivolities the Hyrillka Designate had previously enjoyed. Rusa’h had turned into an entirely different person after recovering from his head injury. Clearly, his mind was damaged, and the medical kithmen had been unable to treat him properly. Rusa’h was truly insane.

Thor’h, though, was a different story. The Prime Designate had made his own decisions, willingly turned to the rebel cause. “You should have known better, Thor’h. Why would you cooperate with this foolish venture? You know the Hyrillka Designate cannot succeed against the whole Solar Navy.”

“I know nothing of the sort. Our uncle has seen the truth in a holy vision. How am I to doubt that?”

“By using your common sense,” Zan’nh snapped, but he knew the conversation was useless.

The main spaceport was a bustling complex. Numerous new cargo ships waited with open hatches in the mosaic-tiled landing zones; workers streamed aboard, loading tanks of fresh shiing gas. And now Rusa’h had a maniple of warliners, each ship with a brainwashed crew. Zan’nh felt ill.

I should have ordered the destruction of my own vessels.

After the shuttle landed, guards came forward to escort the captive Adar up the hill to the citadel palace. Thor’h strutted in the lead, his head held high. They took Zan’nh to a private, thick-walled chamber within the citadel, and Thor’h gestured for him to enter. “These quarters were last used by our poor brother Pery’h. He no longer requires them.”

Zan’nh said, “I doubt you did anything to prevent his murder.”

“Prevent it? I encouraged it. It was the only way we could bring
you
running with a whole maniple of warliners. It was an irresistible lure, a trap—entirely successful. Look at all we have gained.”

“What you have gained? You have lost your soul.”

Rather than leaving Zan’nh alone, Thor’h called for refreshments. After attender kithmen hurried in bearing the food, the former Prime Designate ate some of the sweets. He smiled as if this was a carefree social gathering, but Zan’nh glowered at him, refusing the food.

“Then I will eat. I have also called for shiing. Perhaps you would care to try some? It will increase your understanding.”

“I already understand enough.”

“You are too young to be a stubborn old fossil.” He held up a small vial of the pearlescent, milky liquid, freshly harvested from the plantmoths. He looked at it hungrily, as if he longed to consume it himself, but Rusa’h had forbidden shiing to anyone already converted.

“I will not be corrupted as you have been,” Zan’nh said.

“That depends upon your definition of corrupted.” Thor’h set the vial aside. “Our father is merely perpetuating the mistakes his own father and grandfather made before him. It is time for a change.” The young man clasped his hands together, his expression sincere. “Believe me, Zan’nh. I am doing this for the good of the Ildiran Empire, and so is our uncle Rusa’h. It would be so much better if the Adar of the Solar Navy were to join our cause willingly, rationally—as I did.”

Zan’nh refused to answer. Already his thoughts were directed toward developing a plan to escape, to send a clear warning back to Mijistra.

A guard stepped up to the door. “We have received word from Imperator Rusa’h. The forty-six warliners have been entirely subsumed. Their crews are now properly bound to the new pattern of
thism
.”

Grinning, Thor’h turned to his brother. “You see, Zan’nh—even if you choose not to cooperate with us, the rightful Imperator will spread his enlightenment across the whole Horizon Cluster. Now that he has your warliners, nothing can stop him.”