Horizon Storms (28 page)

D O B R O D E S I G N A T E U D R U ’ H

165

mination, we can finally become a normal splinter colony, a proud part of the Ildiran Empire without secrets.”

“I am ready to listen, Designate.”

Udru’h paused, searching for where to begin. “Ten thousand years ago, a titanic war swept the Spiral Arm like a storm across the ocean of space.

Hydrogues allied themselves with the faeros, against the wentals and the verdani.”

“And did Ildirans fight in this war? There is no record of it in the Saga of Seven Suns.”

“We participated . . . but only in the way that carrion birds take part in a battle. We were insignificant and in the path of destruction—until the Klikiss race also became involved. They developed their Torch and destroyed many gas giants, which turned the wrath of the hydrogues against rocky worlds, including ours. They didn’t understand us, didn’t wish to.

The hydrogues simply lashed back and destroyed whatever they could.

“That was when the Klikiss robots turned on their masters, seeking to exterminate them and free themselves. With their machine language and coordinated computing power, they succeeded in contacting the alien hydrogues. They found common ground, established a link, and learned a form of communication infinitely more complex than anything we understand as language. They made the hydrogues understand who they were, and convinced them to aid the robots in destroying the Klikiss race.”

“Then how did we become involved?” Daro’h asked. The half-breed children also paid attention, knowing that this tale comprised the history that determined their fates.

“After dozens of our worlds were annihilated by the hydrogues, the Mage-Imperator at the time reached an accord with the Klikiss robots, who agreed to be our intermediaries with the hydrogues. The robots used their communication abilities to convince the hydrogues not to attack our splinter colonies, and in return Ildirans assisted the robots in exterminating their parent race.”

Daro’h frowned. “That sounds . . . dishonorable.”

Drawing a deep breath, Udru’h said, “Nevertheless, the Ildiran Empire survived—and the Klikiss did not.”

The young Designate-in-waiting listened with a look of mingled fascination and horror. Udru’h continued. “But we have never entirely trusted 166

the robots. They are machines nearly as alien as the hydrogues. In those ancient treaties, we agreed to many things, as did the robots, yet all along we knew we could not rely on them—just as we knew the hydrogues would not remain quiescent forever.

“Therefore, to protect ourselves, we sought a new way to form a bridge between Ildirans and hydrogues, a means of communication transcending simple words and thoughts. Thousands of years ago we began this program, combining kiths and bloodlines in an attempt to enhance our own telepathy. But even the best of each generation advanced our ability by only the smallest increment.

“After thousands of years, we finally developed the lens kithmen, who exhibit enhanced mental skills. They can touch the thism more readily than other kiths, though not as well as the Mage-Imperator or his direct bloodline. Even though the lens kithmen became marginally stronger with each generation, we despaired that it would ever be enough, or in time.”

Daro’h guessed the next part. “And then you found the humans.”

Udru’h smiled sardonically. “Yes. They offered genetic variations that let us jump ahead by at least a hundred generations. Their mental abilities were like a potent catalyst when added to Ildiran bloodlines—and not a moment too soon. The Klikiss robots have failed to keep the hydrogues away from Ildiran worlds, whether through their inability or outright treachery. Either way, we require our own bridge to negotiate directly.”

“Do the Klikiss robots hate us, then?”

Udru’h looked at him. “We cannot know what the robots think, but we know they are capable of deception and betrayal. It is clear, however, that their fear of us grows as they lose their leverage and the war continues to escalate. We know many things they do not wish others to remember.”

Across the room, young Osira’h finished a training exercise and ran over to them, her eyes sparkling. The Dobro Designate smiled and reached out to the telepathic half-breed girl, while Daro’h looked curiously at his half sister. “And so, Osira’h must become our intermediary. We are counting on her to make matters right with the hydrogues.”

The girl returned his smile, but her voice was solemn. “I will be ready, Designate. I promise.”

475CELLI

As they flew on a lightweight gliderbike over the ruins of the worldforest, Celli wrapped her arms tightly around the green priest’s waist. She had flown with Solimar numerous times now and had long since gotten over her fear of the unsteady vehicle with its furiously flapping condorfly wings.

However, she didn’t mind having an excuse to press herself against the young man’s brawny back. She didn’t think Solimar minded, either.

The self-contained engine thrummed as the green priest accelerated and circled over a new burn area. “It just goes on and on,” Solimar said.

“We’ve flown for hours, and the scar extends as far as my gliderbike can take us.”

Celli sensed her friend’s gloom and felt it in her own heart. She wanted to console him, to tell Solimar that everything would be all right, that the worldforest would recover—and though she believed that to be true, the task of restoration seemed nearly impossible.

“The worldforest has been hurt enough,” she said. “Maybe the most important thing we can do is to believe. Let the trees draw optimism from you, Solimar. You’re a green priest. Maybe they need to have hope as much as they need time to heal.”

She felt the young green priest’s shoulders relax. He looked back at her over his shoulder. “You’re right, Celli. During the first war with the hydrogues, long ago, the worldforest suffered an even greater defeat, and they still recovered—”

“Hey, watch where you’re flying!”

Solimar swerved, barely avoiding an upthrust claw of dark branches. “I wouldn’t let you get hurt, Celli—it was too much trouble rescuing you the first time.” She playfully slapped him on the arm and continued to hold on. He had always been there for her, when she most needed him.

During the hydrogue attack on the forest, Celli had found herself stranded in the burning fungus-reef city. She had waited too long before trying to escape, not willing to admit her own danger. Then, with as much grace as she could manage, she had worked her way from the core of the 168

blaze by edging out along lumps on the fungus city and using acrobatic skills and treedancer moves to get from one precarious perch to another.

But the fire had spread rapidly, cutting off all escape paths. She had been trapped, frightened and helpless, scolding herself for getting into such a problem—until she’d heard the buzzing engine of a gliderbike. She had looked up and raised her arms, full of desperate hope, and Solimar had swooped in to snatch her from the jaws of death. Fear had melted into relief as they flew away to dubious safety.

Celli had never really noticed him before he’d rescued her. Had she been so aloof, so self-centered? Estarra would probably have said yes, but Celli had changed a great deal since the hydrogue attack.

Now, every day in the aftermath, they took Solimar’s gliderbike to survey the damage, while landbound green priests moved through the burned thickets, clearing debris, salvaging treelings. Children and acolytes sifted through the ashes, searching for armored black seedpods; others cleared greenhouse plots, lovingly planting the seeds to bring back tiny treelings.

“I just wish we had more help,” Solimar said.

As Celli had expected, the Hansa military was very interested in the broken warglobe she’d discovered. Their scientists and weapons engineers had come here, delivering a shipload of relief supplies to Theroc like a consolation prize in exchange for the alien wreckage. Instead of staying to help with the important labor, though, the EDF specialists had taken the pieces away for analysis on Earth. It was all they wanted.

Now, the gliderbike sputtered, and one of the condorfly wings froze.

Solimar calmly adjusted the jammed wing and fiddled with the controls.

The gliderbike quickly restabilized, and they rose higher, continuing their outward spiral.

Oddly for a green priest, Solimar loved to tinker with gadgets and equipment, from leftover machinery and instruments from the Caillié to new items brought in by Hansa merchants. He enjoyed chasing large butterflies above the forest canopy in gliderbikes of his own construction.

Once, he’d even been pursued by a voracious wyvern, from which he’d barely escaped.

The worldtrees found the mechanics fascinating. Since the forest used only biological powers, the calm organic sentience had limited knowledge of gears and pistons and pulleys, and the acolyte Solimar had diligently

described specs and designs for engine after engine, vehicle after vehicle.

Now the worldforest retained that data, able to share it back with him.

Whenever he needed information to fix a piece of equipment, Solimar could tap into the trees through telink and access any reference material he wanted.

Solimar expanded their search spiral again, but there seemed no end to the burned areas. “I don’t suppose we’ll be treedancing together anytime soon.” The two of them had talked about their mutual passion for the sport, and discussed the moves they knew. But now such joyful diversions seemed impossible.

“Not for a little while yet,” Celli said. “But I look forward to when we can.”

Where a stream was blocked by fallen trees, the water had backed up and flooded a meadow, drowning any plants that had survived the fire.

“We’ll have to send workers to clear that blockage. The water needs to flow downstream and irrigate other land.”

Celli traced the line of water with her eyes. “Isn’t that one of the sources for the Looking Glass Lakes? There was a village—”

“The village is completely destroyed. I’ve been there.” His broad shoulders heaved. “The hiveworm nests were shattered, turned to powder.

I didn’t see a single living person.”

Celli hugged him tightly. The air smelled burnt. The clouds were thick in the skies, and she hoped it would rain and wash away the smell, make the forests feel fresh and clean again.

But that would take a long, long time.

“Enough for today,” Solimar said. “We’d better get back and make our report.” He unerringly guided them back toward the distant fungus-reef city, beyond the hazy horizon.

170

Flying the Voracious Curiositywas her joy, and Rlinda would have taken the ship anyplace the Hansa asked her to go. She and BeBob had access to all the ekti they needed, so long as they delivered supplies and colonists to the new network of settled worlds.

Rlinda was already carrying a full load of cargo, but there was no getting around the fact that her entire route had been determined by this one passenger, by special request from Chairman Wenceslas himself. She grinned at the man sitting in the Curiosity’s copilot seat. “Good to have you aboard again, Davlin.”

He looked over at her with a bland expression. “I confess to being pleased to see you again, Rlinda. Odd, isn’t it?”

“The Chairman knows we’re old buddies. Or don’t you admit to having any friends?”

“Not many. Especially since I started work for the Hansa.”

With the ship on autopilot, she could lean back in her reinforced chair.

“Then it’s about time you got some time off to have a real life again. Say, would you like to play a game with me while we’re flying? I’ve got a wide selection of entertainment options.”

“No.” He didn’t sound rude, just uninterested.

Rlinda contained her smile, knowing he was a tough nut to crack.

“Anything special you want me to prepare from the galley for your supper?

I’ve got quite a few recipes.”

“No.”

She rubbed her hands together. “Ah, so it’s just some pleasant conversation you’d like, then?”

“No.”

Her eyes twinkled. “You know I’m just teasing you, Davlin. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I thought spies were supposed to be suave and adaptable to any social situation.”

“I am not a spy. I’m a specialist in obscure details and an exosociolog-ical investigator.”

“In other words, you’re a spy without any social graces.”

“That about sums it up.” He startled her by flashing a smile, a truly dazzling one, the first she had seen from him.

“You have a striking smile, Davlin. You should do it more often.”

“That is exactly why I don’t dare. Too many people would notice it.”

Sighing, Rlinda gave him a maternal pat on the wrist. Holding a conversation with him was like pulling teeth, but she enjoyed the game.

Davlin was quiet, neat, and unobtrusive. His hair was close-cropped, and he had an ageless face that could have put him anywhere from his twenties to his forties. He stood tall with a well-proportioned body; his features were remarkable only for their lack of remarkability. No wonder the other colonists hadn’t much noticed him.

“Crenna is very nice. I’ve only been there a few times, but the place seemed pleasant enough.”

“It is. Quiet. Normal. And I liked the people there.” Davlin looked out at the streaming stars. “Compared to popping through Klikiss transportals and investigating unknown coordinate tiles, it’ll be a perfect sabbatical.

I’ve done enough for the Hansa, from espionage to outright combat. Some of my earlier missions as a silver-beret operative were . . . quite ugly.”

Now Rlinda was surprised. “A silver beret? You never told me you had that training. And I thought you gave me your whole life story.”

Davlin looked at her, his face completely expressionless. “I left certain parts out.”

“I never know when to believe you, Davlin.”