Horizon Storms (40 page)

Mother Alexa’s smile blossomed like a bright flower.

In spite of the brief show the Eddies had made of assisting Theroc after the hydrogue attack, the military had stopped far short of finishing the job.

The observation satellites they had left in orbit provided useful images of Theroc’s continents, but the Therons did not have the manpower, equipment, or resources to handle a crisis of such magnitude.

Even with the assistance of every able-bodied Theron, the Roamers had their work cut out for them.

Using prefab dwelling modules designed to create instant settlements

on inhospitable worlds, clan engineers built a base camp in a clearing where all the worldtrees had been shattered by hydrogue icewaves. The Therons joined them, explained what progress they had made thus far, discussed plans, and offered suggestions as to how their green priests could best help the Roamers.

With a sense of satisfaction, Cesca watched her people working alongside the weary Therons with dedication and energy. Industrial lifters cleared away the worst debris from the ash-strewn ground by piling the enormous hulks of dead worldtrees into high funeral mounds that would stand as monuments to the worldforest. Large excavating machines designed for mining and construction on lifeless planets now went to work on a grand scale, accomplishing as much in a single day as the Therons had done in the past month.

“Our initial concern here is to prevent further erosion,” said Kotto Okiah, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed the entire project. “If we don’t prepare for when the next heavy rains come, this will be a disaster of epic proportions.”

“This is already a disaster,” Cesca reminded him.

He scratched his curly brown hair. “Right. And the Therons would probably rather not have another.”

Knowing the eccentric engineer’s capabilities, Cesca had sent a ship to his frozen methane excavations on Jonah 12. Kotto hated to be pulled from a project that already occupied his full intellect, but Cesca had asked him as a personal favor, and the man’s resistance had melted. Now he followed her like a devoted pet.

Kotto paced through the work areas. Several times, he had expressed disappointment that he hadn’t had a chance to study the hydrogue wreckage before the Eddies hauled it away to Earth, but Cesca tried to keep the man’s genius focused on the immediate problem. Kotto turned his energy to restoring the forest world.

“We’ve cleared this whole settlement zone now, so I had our ships spray down a mesh of biodegradable polymer to hold the soil in place. A crew of Therons is already out finding fast-growing native groundcover for the first phase of the reclamation process. Then I want to build retaining walls and stair-step some of these hillsides.”

He held up a long, thin sheet of electronic plans, scrolling through 246

image after image. “I can use this opportunity to install up-to-date plumbing and power conduits, ventilation systems, communications nodes.”

“They have their own ways, Kotto. Be careful not to do anything they don’t want.”

He blinked at her. “All right, I’ll ask first. But so far they’re fascinated with the renovation plans, and they’ve been very helpful.” He shifted to a different page of the plans. “Normally I’d use raw metals and alloys as structural materials. In this case, though, I doubt the Therons want us to strip-mine or bore holes into their rock outcroppings—”

“Don’t even consider it. That’s fine on an empty asteroid, but the ecosystem here has been damaged enough. We need to heal and repair this planet, not make matters worse.”

“Exactly my point.” Kotto tapped his finger on the plans. “I ran compositional analyses and materials tests on the wood of the dead worldtrees.

It’s quite a remarkable substance, almost as sturdy as steel, yet workable.

We can use that fire-hardened wood to form the basic framework for all the structures the Therons need.”

“There’s certainly plenty of it available,” Cesca said, looking at all the downed trees. “Unfortunately.”

As if unveiling a masterpiece, Kotto displayed his architectural scheme that used salvaged wood, a few necessary components of Roamer manufacture, and the original material of the fungus reef. “Look, I can shore up these parts of the old city and rebuild the rest. It’ll be better than ever before.”

His unique vision impressed Cesca. “We’ll have to get the Therons’

approval first, but I think they’ll be quite pleased.” She surprised the be-mused inventor with a quick and enthusiastic hug.

Denn Peroni flew his ship next to a pair of water-hauling vessels captained by the twins Torin and Wynn Tamblyn. They had brought two of their container ships from the water mines of Plumas to use for large-scale operations. From orbit, Roamer scouts traced still-burning fires on separate continents, following plumes of smoke to the heaviest unchecked blazes.

Now the Tamblyn brothers dumped water from their haulers to snuff out the flames in these remaining hot spots.

Cesca’s father sent daily progress reports to the base camp. Shipload

after shipload of water scooped from fresh lakes rained down upon the last uncontrolled fires, dousing them. Even from high in the sky, Denn could almost feel a sigh of relief from the sentient trees. Every blaze extinguished was like a hot spike withdrawn from the planet’s sensitive flesh. . . .

Cesca sat and listened while several Roamer agricultural engineers spoke with Yarrod and other high-ranking green priests. “I think you’ll find that we Roamers are well versed in efficient crop-planting methods. We’ve also become adept at squeezing out high yields. In most cases we have no choice but to recycle every drop of water, every scrap of fertilizer in order to generate the greatest amount of edible biomass.”

Marla Chan Tylar—Nikko’s mother—showed images of what she had done in the sun-washed greenhouse domes in an asteroid belt. “On Theroc you have seeds and worldtree sprouts, but we need to make the growing of new trees more efficient.”

“Every treeling counts,” Yarrod agreed grimly.

“Now you’re starting to think like a Roamer,” said Marla. “We’ll have to install irrigation, stagger high and low tiers of plantings, and prepare to transplant them when necessary. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

Cesca left them to talk and plan amongst themselves. As she stood alone with the newly optimistic flurry of activity around her, she looked up at the damaged fungus-reef city and once again felt a bittersweet pang.

If things had been different, she would have been married to Reynald by now. The Roamer-Theron alliance would have strengthened both peoples, and Jess would have gone on with his life, putting behind him all thoughts of romance with her. But Reynald was dead, and Jess had been transformed into something more than human.

Still, perhaps she could salvage something of even greater importance here. She looked up at a burned tree, and her lips formed a resolute smile.

248

S W E N D S E N

After sunset, as the torches burned brightly atop the cupolas of the Whisper Palace, scientific teams continued to analyze the wreckage of the hydrogue warglobe taken from Theroc. Engineers and technicians had spent weeks scrutinizing the broken pieces.

Equipment shacks and outbuildings were clustered around the large tent that had been erected to conceal the trophy from curious eyes. Brilliant lights gleamed down upon pallets of instruments and stored chemicals. Catwalks provided access to the upper portions of the curved warglobe shell. Men and women bustled around the derelict, taking readings and marking down notes.

Accompanied by four royal guards—a mere formality—Peter and Estarra walked hand in hand across the plaza to the flap of the synthetic can-vas covering. Some of the technicians noticed the King’s arrival and stopped their work, snapping to attention as if he were an imposing military commander. The guards, by tradition, announced the royal presence.

With a surprised yet welcoming expression on his face, the blond Engineering Specialist wiped his hands on a rag and hurried over. “King Peter, what a pleasure it is to see you! And a boost in morale for my team!” He extended his hand. The guards tensed, but Swendsen remained oblivious.

Around them, all work came to a complete stop.

The King graciously shook the man’s hand. “I’m sorry if our visit here is disruptive. My Queen and I don’t want to delay progress.”

“Oh, but it also shows us that you care about what we’re doing and are interested in our results.” Swendsen gestured for the others to get back to their tests. “And why doesn’t your brother Daniel ever come to see our work?”

Awkwardly, Peter answered, “The, uh, Prince has a full scholastic schedule, Engineer Swendsen. He still has much to learn.”

“Ah, don’t we all?”

Estarra’s eyes were bright, her body tense. “I hope your teams find something useful, Engineer Swendsen. Too much of my worldforest was destroyed by these things.”

The King and Queen looked up to watch as large sections of the broken warglobe were lowered from suspensions to new work ramps for further study. Sensors and wires and gleaming detectors had been applied like freckles across the curved hydrogue shell. The diamond hull was blackened and blistered, the edges jagged where the alien vessel had shattered under the heat of the faeros.

The tall Swede was more eager and excited than anyone else, like a child ready to tear off the wrapping from a long-coveted gift. “The warglobe is intrinsically fascinating, but I had hoped to find some Achilles’ heel. Unfortunately there’s simply not enough left of this hulk to give us any meaningful insight into its potential flaws. And we haven’t been able to conclude much about the technology or mechanics.”

He walked quickly to the next station, and Peter and Estarra rapidly forgot their usual regal pace. The engineer ducked under the curvature of a large fragment. “We haven’t found any intact machinery, or engines, or components of their weaponry systems. It’s just a bunch of broken junk.”

The King ran his fingers along the cool, slick surface. “What about analyzing the material composition? Can we replicate it—or at least use the information to modify our fracture-pulse torpedoes or carbon-carbon bond disruptors?”

“Maybe. Four of my best materials researchers are working on a small fragment of the hull. Computer simulations and nondestructive analyses just didn’t give us anything. I gave them permission to unleash all the fury of Earth, hoping to find something that’ll chip the armor.” Swendsen paced around the site. “One man told me the project was a dream come true—using his advanced training and expertise to smash things. He likes that.”

“Well, the faeros managed to wreck this one,” Estarra pointed out.

“Believe me, we’re trying our damnedest to reproduce the technique.”

From a slick information screen, Swendsen displayed tables of data and the results of numerous tests, then turned with a tsk-tsk noise from the results.

250

“When I think of how much we learned from dismantling that one Klikiss robot, I wish we could get a fraction as much from this derelict.”

Luckily, this wasn’t the only project the Hansa had in the works. Only a week before, King Peter had made a formal inspection tour of the giant rammer ships under construction, sixty new kamikaze Mantas designed to smash warglobes. Hansa manufacturing facilities also continued to pump out huge numbers of new Soldier compies to help crew EDF ships, though Peter still had reservations about them.

The engineer rapped his big knuckles against the hard diamond hull, and the alien ship completely absorbed the sound. “I’m just not sure how much more we can wring out of this thing.”

Peter nodded. “Maybe it would be better used as a monument for tourists.”

Estarra gave a grim smile. “At least the warglobe was destroyed. Far better that we have a monument to a victory against the hydrogues than a memorial to another loss.”

The following day, Swendsen bustled into Chairman Wenceslas’s office. “You called for me, Mr. Chairman?” He had not changed out of his smudged work uniform from the warglobe analysis site. As he collected himself, Swendsen noticed General Lanyan sitting at a table, rummaging through documents and memos.

The dapper Chairman stood from behind his desk. “Yes, I did. We have some questions about your work.”

Swendsen searched in his pockets, but didn’t find what he was looking for. “I thought I had a copy of my note printouts, but I have no summary report yet on the hydrogue wreckage. My teams have been using all the techniques available, but there really isn’t much to go on. I can tell you the basic material structure, but we guessed that before. We still can’t break it. Or were you asking about progress in the Soldier compy manufacturing lines? You should see what the—”

The Chairman cut him off. “Right now, Dr. Swendsen, I’m most interested in what you’ve learned about that Roamer compy I gave you to study.

It’s been several months since the compy shut itself down to prevent me from discovering Roamer locations. We very much need that intelligence right now for military planning purposes.”

Swendsen frowned in confusion, then brightened. “Ah, yes, the Listener model. I believe its designation was EA? Sorry, sir—I have so many different things on my plate.” His brow furrowed. “A very interesting case, though. Voluntary self-wipe. Complete memory erasure implemented by the compy itself.”

“I told you, Mr. Chairman,” Lanyan said. “The Roamers are hiding something, otherwise they wouldn’t have such security measures in place.

It’s insidious.”

Swendsen fumbled with his long fingers. “If I recall correctly, sir, you inadvertently triggered embedded Roamer protective programming. You must have asked the wrong question.” He smiled, but the Chairman did not smile back. “It scoured all the circuits, overwrote the memory data with gibberish, reformatted the compy’s brain, and left it a blank slate. A great little programming land mine. Hmmm, maybe we should implement something similar in our own classified systems—it was very effective.”