Of Fire and Night (53 page)

136

ADAR ZAN’NH

A
fter the last explosions died away, space became eerily still, a graveyard of drifting wrecks. The remaining ships performed emergency repairs, while EDF scouts searched for survivors.

From the warliner’s command nucleus Adar Zan’nh took inventory of what he had left. So much of the Solar Navy was gone! Two full cohorts of ships, every single warliner destroyed. But thanks to the Roamer traders and their ingenious invention, Tal Lorie’nh had not been required to add another cohort and hundreds of thousands more Ildiran lives to the cost.

All together it had just barely been enough. Across the Spiral Arm, the deep-core aliens were suffering defeat after defeat from other unforeseen battles. The hydrogues had not expected to combat so many enemies on so many fronts. Even the Ildirans had not counted on all those unexpected allies.

Even so, Zan’nh could still feel the stinging cries of uncounted dead and injured back on Ildira. He desperately wanted to know what had happened there.

And now he needed to show his strength to get through this. In the quiet after the holocaust, he stared at the starry emptiness around him. His skeleton crew worked with all possible speed to restore the flagship’s engines, but when the chief mechanic returned smeared with grimy residue, his face was downcast. “We cannot complete the repairs ourselves, Adar. The damage is too severe.”

Zan’nh nodded. “Scavenge the components we need. I will make contact with Tal Lorie’nh’s warliners and request their assistance.”

Once he expressed his need to Tal Lorie’nh, though, he was surprised when General Lanyan’s voice interrupted him. He had forgotten the EDF was also tied into their Ildiran command frequency. “I know you Solar Navy types like to keep to yourselves, but we could help you out in a snap. After all, Ildirans
did
give us our stardrive technology two centuries ago. We use pretty much the same equipment as you do.”

Zan’nh reminded himself that without the Earth Defense Forces, and without the assistance of Sullivan Gold and Tabitha Huck in equipping the automated warliners, the hydrogues would never have been beaten.

“General Lanyan, we would be grateful if your engineers could help us.”

“No trouble at all.”

Less than an hour later, Lanyan’s shuttle entered the warliner’s landing bay. Zan’nh and two crewmen went to meet him, while the minimal Ildiran crew continued to work. As the square-jawed General emerged from the shuttle accompanied by a well-equipped EDF technical team, the Adar remained rigid. He remembered all too clearly the curses this man had showered upon him when he believed Zan’nh had betrayed him.

Instead of accusations, the bullish commander grabbed the Adar’s hand and pumped it so vigorously that Zan’nh’s elbow ached. “It was all a setup, a goddamned setup! You sure fooled me and my soldiers. For a few moments there you made me crap my new uniform, but you put one over on the drogues even more than you did on us!”

“I apologize for not being more forthcoming, General. I had my instructions. We had to keep our plans secret from the hydrogues, but we assumed the green priests had disseminated the details of the plan to you.”

“Not a word of it. And we didn’t expect the Roamers to come either. Everything turned out all right—can’t complain about that—but I still feel completely caught with my pants down.”

“As I said, General, we assumed the Hansa knew. Do you not speak with your green priests?”

“Not so much anymore.”

Zan’nh explained how his warliners had been automated with help from Hansa engineers, then he gave the General his long-awaited tour of a Solar Navy warliner, while the EDF technical crew met with Ildiran engineers to determine how much of the flagship was salvageable. Lanyan claimed to have experts familiar with “old-fashioned” stardrive designs; over the centuries, the humans had made many modifications—the General called them “improvements”—to the stardrives. “And what we can’t fix for you, we’ll replace. We’ve got the largest salvage yard in the Spiral Arm right out there.”

A message came from Tal Lorie’nh. “Adar, my cohort is ready to return to Ildira, if you wish to accompany us. We can leave your flagship here and return for it later with a full restoration crew.”

General Lanyan had already received a report from his engineering team. “If we all work together, Adar, we could have the basic repairs finished in a few days.”

Zan’nh hesitated. He wanted to rush back to the Prism Palace, to learn what had happened with the watchdog warglobes once he’d turned the tables during the hydrogue ambush. He knew that his father was still alive—he would have felt the Mage-Imperator’s death like a scream through the
thism
—and he knew that the hydrogues were vanquished, though many thousands of Ildirans had died.

Zan’nh pondered the options and then reached his decision. He would send Tal Lorie’nh back with his cohort of warliners to assist at Ildira. For the moment, that was enough. “No, thank you, Tal. I will keep one warliner here to assist me. Meanwhile, return to Mijistra and make your report to the Mage-Imperator. I will come home soon, in my own flagship.”

137

QUEEN ESTARRA

C
onnected through telink to the verdani battleships, green priests followed the battles across the Spiral Arm, the vanquishing of hydrogue gas giants, the tremendous last stand at Earth. All of the new verdani seedships had uprooted themselves from the forest floor and joined the other monstrous trees in space, fighting against their ancient enemies.

But Theroc itself was quiet and undefended.

The arrival of a small hydrogue craft created quite a stir. The worldtrees rustled, preparing to defend themselves with a barrage of seed-projectiles. Green priests rushed out to see. Mother Alexa and Father Idriss stood together on a high open balcony of the fungus-reef city, looking fearfully into the sky.

But the tiny diamond bubble made no threatening moves. It hovered over a ragged gap in the thick canopy, then passed down to settle onto the churned dirt where Beneto’s five-trunked treeship had torn itself from the ground.

When the small sphere’s hatch finally hissed open, releasing a breath of Earth-normal air, King Peter and Queen Estarra stepped out. They were accompanied by a stiffly formal Teacher compy.

Estarra was overjoyed. “We’re home!”

It had been so long. She could not absorb enough details of her beautiful world: the color of the sky, the quality of the sunlight, the overarching majesty of the great trees that had twice survived hydrogue devastation. The smells were fresh and wonderful, perfumes of flowers, sharp oils from dark green leaves, and the warm musk exuded by the worldtrees.

In the years since the horrific attack that had killed her brother Reynald, the people had worked slavishly to heal the wounds. Dead trees had been cleared away, new treelings planted. The surge of life from the wental comet had covered many of the freshest scars.

Estarra clung to Peter’s arm with great pleasure. “I never knew how much I’d miss everything about Theroc. I can’t wait to show you my world.”

Peter stroked her hair, more interested in his Queen’s happiness than in answering the questions of the cheering people who came to meet them. “You talk about Theroc so much, and I’ve seen images . . . but no words or pictures could do justice to this. It’s a perfect place for us.”

“A place to stay, and a place to keep our family safe.”

“And a place to live while we help guide the human race—far from the Chairman. That’s the best part, I think.”

Celli bounded forward, dragging her big-shouldered green priest friend by the hand. Estarra saw with amazement that her wiry little sister not only was older, but also appeared much more mature. “Celli, look at you!”

The younger girl couldn’t tear her eyes from Estarra’s belly. “And you, you’re so . . . so pregnant! Are you about to have the baby?”

Estarra laughed. “Not for a little while yet.” She patted her stomach. “I’m at six and a half months—I don’t even want to imagine how much bigger I’m going to get.”

Celli introduced herself to Peter as if she had just noticed him, then she did a double take when she realized who he was. “You—you’re the King!”

“And you must be Estarra’s little sister.” Peter turned to Estarra. “Is she the one who kept pet condorflies?”

“Oh, I was just a little kid then!” Estarra demanded introductions, much more interested in Solimar, who was apparently Celli’s boyfriend, than she was in condorflies.

Peter craned his neck, staring up at the beautiful green canopy. “Are all the trees here so . . .
tall
?”

Celli laughed. “You should have seen the verdani battleships!”

“Oh, we did—a lot closer than I would have liked.”

Wearing overly extravagant beetle-carapace headdresses, cocoon-weave garments, and shellacked chest pieces, Idriss and Alexa arrived, happy but perplexed. “We’re thrilled to have you home again, daughter,” Alexa said, “but please explain what’s happening. Nahton sent us sporadic messages from Earth, but he doesn’t have many details. Even if the hydrogues are defeated at Earth, they may keep coming back and—”

“The hydrogues won’t be a problem any longer, Mother Alexa,” Solimar said, and all the nearby green priests nodded. “The verdani battleships are quite convinced of that. The war seems to be won. The enemy is destroyed.”

Estarra said breathlessly, “And we escaped from the Chairman. He was trying to kill us. And the baby, too.” Nahton had already sent word of their danger.

Alexa quickly understood the implications. “Are you in exile, then?”

Peter’s voice was grim. “The Hansa is in a shambles and run by a corrupt madman. The Chairman taught me my skills and duties, but he himself has forgotten what it means to be a leader.”

Idriss looked from side to side. “What about Sarein? Did she come with you? She should be here with the rest of her family.”

Estarra frowned, feeling a pang. Sarein had given them invaluable assistance, but in the end she had chosen to remain with the Chairman. “No, she stayed on Earth.” The Queen hugged her parents, feeling a deep gratitude in her heart. “We had no place else to go.”

Alexa had tears streaming down her face. “There is no question about it. You must both stay here.” She held up a gently scolding finger. “Forget all of your politics for now. I insist that you let our first grandchild be born here on Theroc.”

138

MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H

A
fter ten thousand years of waiting and preparing for the inevitable, it was over. Now the Ildirans began to pick up the pieces.

Standing outside under the multiple suns, Jora’h gazed at his damaged city. All sixty of the threatening warglobes lay smashed in the streets and on hills where they had fallen. Though Mijistra’s sky had been empty of enemies for days, the last cohorts of the Solar Navy maintained a diligent cordon around the planet.

Nira stood next to the Mage-Imperator, silent and somber, her hand resting lovingly on their daughter’s shoulder. Armies of worker kithmen operated heavy machinery to excavate and drag away the wreckage of shattered warglobes. As they considered the devastation, she said, “It could have been worse, Jora’h. Much worse.”

“It very nearly was.”

Jora’h still didn’t know the extent of damage across his Empire. He had been overwhelmed by resounding echoes of mental anguish in the
thism
. As the dying warglobes had crashed into the city like a rain of diamond asteroids, a wave of shock and death had rolled over him, nearly overloading his ability to receive messages of pain. The Mage-Imperator was at the center of it all; the lives and deaths of so many people funneled into him.

Medical kithmen scurried to rescue the injured, pulling bodies from the wreckage. Handlers counted and prepared the dead. Jora’h had felt them all cry out, felt the threads of
thism
snapping with exquisitely sharp pain. But oh, how much more terrible it would have been had the hydrogues vaporized the entire city—and then the whole Ildiran Empire.

Nira sensed his distress. “Your gamble paid off.”

“It was not my gamble alone. It was for all of us. And I could not have done it without you or Osira’h.” Turning Adar Zan’nh’s warliners against the hydrogues might have sealed the fate of all Ildirans, but Jora’h had made his decision to follow the bright soul-threads, to see the Lightsource and a path of honor. “I thought I was going to spend my last moments with you, Nira.”

She smiled up at him. “Maybe you will. But not for a long time yet.”

He folded his arms around her and his daughter, gathering them close. A small family, a microcosm of the Ildiran Empire. The Mage-Imperator was father to all his people, yet no leader in memory had ever had a family such as this.

From high above, one more warliner descended through the clear sky. Unlike the other Solar Navy ships patrolling Ildira, this warliner was scarred, its gaudy hull plates blackened and damaged, solar fins and streamers dangling loosely. But it could fly, and it had returned.

“Adar Zan’nh has come home.” Jora’h flashed a small grin. “I have news that will make him very happy.”

Later, when the Adar faced his father at the entrance to the Prism Palace, his uniform looked impeccable, even after what his ships had been through. Despite his haunted eyes, Zan’nh bowed and pressed his fist against his chest in a salute to the Mage-Imperator. Eschewing formality, Jora’h hugged his oldest son. “You accomplished the impossible! I am proud of you and my entire Solar Navy.”

The Adar did not look pleased. “I lost two cohorts of warliners, Liege. The Empire’s defenses are greatly weakened.”

Jora’h’s optimism would not be shaken. “The hydrogues are defeated, and we can endure. That was the threat for which the Solar Navy was constructed ten millennia ago. Who are our enemies now?”

“Even so, Liege, we dare not remain defenseless. We must start immediately to rebuild our Solar Navy.”

“Certainly, and for that reason I am forced to modify your duties. When I lost Thor’h, I asked you to serve as my next Prime Designate. Because you are loyal and faithful, you agreed. But that was never your calling.”

Zan’nh bowed. “My calling is to serve you, Mage-Imperator, in whatever fashion you command.”

It was the answer Jora’h had expected to hear. “I hereby release you from your duties as Prime Designate, Adar Zan’nh. You may now command the Solar Navy without other distractions, if that is your desire.”

“Yes, Liege! But who will become Prime Designate?”

Jora’h glanced at Osira’h who stood serenely beside him and her mother. “Daro’h is next in line for such work. He is now my oldest noble-born son. I will bring him back to the Prism Palace to become Prime Designate in your place.” The feeling in his heart was bittersweet. “Now the Empire needs him more than Dobro does. I have already sent a summons. The breeding program is ended, and our splinter colony can be made open again.”

Though Jora’h suggested that he and his soldiers rest, Zan’nh would not hear of it. The Adar hurried away from the Prism Palace, to set in motion his plans for rebuilding the Solar Navy. Smiling, the Mage-Imperator let him do as he wished.

Next, Jora’h summoned Sullivan Gold and Tabitha Huck. It was time for complete truthfulness. Keeping secrets to protect the Empire seemed intrinsic to his bloodline, but at Nira’s urging he was determined to change things.

He looked at the two humans, who still appeared shaken from all the destruction. Jora’h said, “When you agreed to help us, Adar Zan’nh gave his word that once we defeated the hydrogues, you and your comrades would be allowed to go home. The human race may distrust us. Your people and mine will have great obstacles to overcome before we can recover from our past treachery.”

“I’m not a diplomat, and I can’t speak for anyone but myself,” Sullivan said, “but maybe I can put in a good word or two. After we get home.”

“Seems to me that without your hundreds of remote-controlled warliners, Earth would be a smoking ruin right now,” Tabitha pointed out. “Maybe—just maybe—people will cut you a little slack for that.”

Nira smiled at the skyminers. “As a green priest, I would be happy to facilitate sending messages to your loved ones.”

Sullivan beamed. “Oh, that would be marvelous. A letter to my Lydia is long overdue. She’ll be glad to know I’m not dead after all.”