Saga of Shadows 1: The Dark Between the Stars (48 page)

Led by OK, Xander and Terry floated into the main hub. Terry was at ease propelling himself along, and Xander followed, while the compy preferred to use the magnetic traction of his synthetic feet.

By habit, they went to the observation lounge and star balcony where they had met. The two found themselves a good seat next to the wall of interlocked crystal, where they could watch the ships come and go. After clipping themselves to the table, they ordered drinks from the server compy.

OK was proud to announce, “Multiple bids have come in. Every one of our power blocks has been claimed for the asking price. Two bidders were so enthusiastic about our highest capacity units that they drove up the price. Our profits will be five percent higher than anticipated.”

“Excellent,” Xander said. “Let’s celebrate and spend that profit on a vacation.”

Terry gave him a skeptical look, then turned to accept their drinks as the server compy returned. “We’ll never take a vacation. You won’t let me.”

“Our work is a vacation. But I could treat you to a place we’ve never seen before.” Xander called up their list on the datapad he always brought with him. “Checking off places one at a time. It’s good to have a big, long-term project you can sink your teeth into.”

Terry leaned over to look at the list, scrolling through the names of planets and star systems. “Since we’ve got more than we can possibly visit in a dozen lifetimes, why don’t we pick someplace pleasant?”

“If you insist.” They debated the merits of various worlds and whether they could convince Xander’s parents that a trade expedition would be worthwhile to Kett Shipping. They finished their first round of drinks and sent OK to fetch a second while they watched the graceful ballet of space traffic.

An unfamiliar woman accompanied the compy back to their table. She was in her midthirties with short brown hair with gold highlights. “I paid for your round of drinks,” she said. “Can I have a word with you?”

“Anybody who pays for drinks can have a whole sentence,” Xander said.

She pulled herself up to the table and attached a stabilizing clip. “We’ve met briefly before. My name is Elisa Enturi. I work for Iswander Industries.”

Now Xander placed her, but the name wasn’t right. “Elisa . . . Reeves, wasn’t it?”

“
Enturi.
I know who you are, and I know Kett Shipping. I’m looking for distribution. It’ll be a long-term contract and very lucrative.”

“We like the lucrative part,” Terry said. “Hauling what?”

“Ekti. As much as you can haul, and as fast as you can take it.”

Xander was surprised. “So Iswander is back in business? After Sheol?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Where’s he getting the ekti from?” Terry asked.

“From his own production facilities. It’s pretty simple. I’ll deliver ekti to you, and you’ll distribute it to open markets.”

“Any markets in particular?” Xander instinctively glanced at the list on the datapad.

Elisa didn’t seem to care. “Everyone needs stardrive fuel. We’re the suppliers, you’re distributors. So long as Iswander Industries gets paid, you can sell it wherever you like.”

“That’s the kind of deal I enjoy,” Xander said.

“A requirement of the contract would be that our operations remain confidential. Is that acceptable?”

Xander and Terry exchanged a glance; neither wanted to look too eager to agree. Terry said, “Rlinda Kett runs the company. We have to check this out with her first.”

Elisa narrowed her eyes. “
Do
you? This is Ulio, and I could find twenty other interested pilots in an hour. I checked your records, and I asked you first, but . . .” She shrugged.

Xander hurried to accept. “The
Verne
is at your service.”

S
EVENTY-ONE

K
ING
P
ETER

After the Sheol catastrophe, the Roamer industrialist Lee Iswander had dropped out of sight, shutting down his businesses, keeping a low profile. Therefore, King Peter was surprised when Iswander arrived at Theroc and cheerfully requested an audience with him.

As the King, Peter had known the influential businessman for years. In the early days of the Confederation, Peter encouraged cooperation among former Hansa planets, independent worlds, and Roamer clans. The new government was supposed to enable a cross-pollination of interests. Iswander exemplified that—a man who wrapped Roamer ingenuity in efficient Hansa business practices, the best of both worlds. Although the man seemed a little too focused on his bottom line, Peter was confident they could work together, especially when it appeared that Iswander might someday be elected clan Speaker.

The lava-processing tragedy had left more than fifteen hundred dead—an accident that could have been prevented if Iswander had heeded warnings and planned better for the unthinkable. Under other circumstances, victims might have unleashed an avalanche of lawsuits and recriminations, but Roamers had a way of drawing together after disasters. They lived in rugged environments on hostile planets, and when the clans built their facilities on the edge, sometimes they fell off. The universe was not invested in their safety.

Even so, the Roamers suspected Lee Iswander was to blame for at least the magnitude of the catastrophe. He had wisely gone into hiding for the last several months. Until now . . .

The Roamer industrialist arrived unannounced on Theroc, guiding a large ekti tanker that wore a fresh Iswander Industries logo like a badge of honor. Iswander transmitted an exuberant message, as if he expected fanfare for his visit. “I have excellent news, and I’d like to meet with King Peter and Queen Estarra, please. Iswander Industries is back online, and I have a new trade agreement to propose with the Confederation.”

Life seemed to be getting back to normal after an appropriate mourning period for Father Idriss, and Estarra sat at Peter’s side again. Celli and Solimar had gone back to Fireheart Station; Sarein, awkward and uncomfortable among people, had returned to her isolated existence in the Wild.

Now, receiving Iswander’s request, Peter looked at Estarra. “He’s a bold man, I’ll give him that.”

Estarra was less kind. “And full of himself.”

“We should meet with him, anyway,” Peter said. “He’s an important Roamer industrialist.”

“
Was
an important industrialist. I’m not surprised that he managed to get back on his feet—I just didn’t think he could do it so quickly.”

Peter agreed. “His reputation will take longer to recover.”

“If ever,” Estarra said.

Leaving the ekti tanker in orbit, Iswander piloted his own shuttle down to the main fungus-reef complex, where he greeted Confederation trade representatives, met men and women whom he called “old friends,” shaking hands and smiling, despite the occasional cool reaction he received. The industrialist entered the throne room wearing business attire instead of a traditional Roamer jumpsuit; he entered with the demeanor of a conquering hero, despite all those who had died on Sheol. Did he think everyone had forgotten?

Iswander made a perfunctory bow. “King Peter, Queen Estarra, whenever Roamers suffer a tragic setback, we pick up the pieces and make a new start. I’m here to celebrate the miracle of second chances.”

“We’ve all mourned those who died on Sheol,” Estarra said. “We only hope you can make reparations to the poor family members.”

Iswander didn’t look at all stung by her comment. “Indeed I intend to. I thought I was ruined after the accident, but I managed to pick up the pieces. My new business venture is doing extremely well.”

Estarra regarded him with plain skepticism. “What business venture?”

He gestured upward to some vague place far overhead. “Your Majesties, I brought you a gift—a tanker of a new and highly concentrated stardrive fuel that will change commerce and space travel as we know it. I call it ekti-X.”

“When did you get into the ekti-harvesting business?” Peter asked. “And who funded your skymine?”

“Cloud harvesting is an enormous and expensive operation that would require a large crew and years of full-scale production before turning a profit. Under my current circumstances, I couldn’t wait that long.” He smiled. “Instead, I’ve discovered an entirely different and more efficient method of ekti extraction.”

Peter and Estarra were both surprised. “Some new technique that wasn’t developed during the Elemental War?” After hydrogue attacks put an abrupt end to traditional ekti production on gas giants, the human race had scrounged for any means to produce vital stardrive fuel.

“My ekti operations are safer, cheaper, and far more productive than anything the Roamers have done before. My lava-processing operation wasn’t the only dangerous work Roamers have done. Think of all those who perished on skymines, generation after generation. I understand there’s been a terrible debacle on Golgen?”

Peter gave only a curt nod. “The Kellum skymine was destroyed, yes. The hydrogues surfaced again, although they don’t appear to be responsible for the disaster.”

The words seemed to skate across Iswander without leaving a mark. “Well, soon enough, Iswander Industries will supply so much ekti that other Roamer clans won’t need to take such unnecessary risks.”

Estarra said coldly, “Perhaps we should send inspection teams to make sure there are no lapses in safety—like on Sheol.”

“You’ll understand my reluctance to share proprietary operations.” His expression darkened; his voice became harder. “Since everyone turned their backs on me in my company’s time of greatest crisis, I need to protect my assets.” Then he seemed to remember where he was. His expression softened, and he smiled again. “As I said, my operations could benefit the entire human race. The ekti-X I brought is my token of thanks for all of your hard work in holding the Confederation together. I expect my business to expand greatly in the coming year.”

Peter thought that Iswander looked too smug, as if he had succeeded in washing all the blood from his hands. “You remind me of Chairman Basil Wenceslas, Mr. Iswander.”

The Roamer man nodded, accepting the assessment as a compliment, though Peter certainly had not intended it as such.

S
EVENTY-TWO

A
ELIN

When he heard that Lee Iswander had come to Theroc with his new business success, against all odds, Aelin knew what he had to do. He hadn’t realized it before, but he had been waiting a long time for this. Shelud was already gone on a great adventure with clan Reeves on a derelict alien station. He could do no less!

Iswander’s return was, in and of itself, an act of bravery, Aelin thought. Many other company heads, when confronted with such a terrible disaster, would have gone into permanent hiding, unable to face the shame and the accusations. But Lee Iswander refused to be defeated. By his demeanor now, the industrialist looked strong, and Aelin found his optimism and determination inspirational. Maybe he deserved another chance after all.

Mr. Iswander had always made an impression on him. While recovering from his treedancing accident when he was young, Aelin had a window near the spaceport landing zone. As his broken leg healed, he watched the commercial ships, Roamer vessels of all kinds, diplomatic yachts for planetary reps, and exotic visiting Ildiran shuttles.

One day, he saw Mr. Iswander arrive in a fancy cruiser. Though his leg wasn’t entirely healed, Aelin felt restless and hobbled out to see the ships. He tried to sneak aboard the Iswander Industries cruiser, hoping to stow away and see other planets, but his plan was poorly thought out, and he was caught. The crew tried to chase him off, but Iswander took pity on the young Theron man, took him aboard, and showed him around. During an hour-long tour, Iswander was interrupted so many times that he finally sent Aelin away with apologies. “I’m sorry, that’s all the time I can spare.”

Nevertheless, he had shown Aelin what he needed to see—how
important
such a man was. Whole planets, the Confederation, the Roamer clans, all depended on Iswander’s business. It made Aelin realize how parochial the previous concerns of his life had been. He never forgot the impression Lee Iswander made on him.

Now, while Iswander was meeting with the King and Queen, Aelin made inquiries about speaking with the man before he departed. But Lee Iswander had filed no formal schedule, and the green priest couldn’t figure out how he might make an appointment. So, he climbed to the canopy landing field, found the Iswander Industries shuttle, and hunkered down to wait. . . .

Several hours later, when the sky was darkening at sunset and the blue moths came out, Lee Iswander returned to his ship and was surprised to find a green priest waiting for him.

Aelin rose to his feet and gave a formal, uncertain bow. “Mr. Iswander, my name is Aelin. I’m a green priest.”

Iswander eyed him up and down, wearing a cautious, polite smile. “I can see that.”

Aelin had trouble getting his words out. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but when I was just a boy—”

Iswander’s smile widened. “Yes! The curious one with the broken leg.”

“Yes, sir. Would you possibly have any use for a green priest in your operations? I could send any messages you like through telink, and I have access to the knowledge in the worldforest.” Aelin had already checked, and although Iswander had made a few peremptory inquiries about using telink services in his Sheol operations, the industrialist had no green priest working for him yet in his mysterious new venture.

Iswander looked at him for a long moment, as if running a thorough analysis. “My operations are high security. I can’t have any proprietary details shared with the rest of the Confederation.”

“Green priests work in strict confidence, Mr. Iswander. We’re trusted in commercial operations, isolated colonies, even aboard the CDF fleet. I would transmit no information without your permission.”

The industrialist pondered again, longer this time, weighing suspicions, then discarding them. “Considering our isolation, and my wide-ranging activities, I’ve often thought a green priest could be useful for instantaneous communication—not to mention an emergency link—but also to monitor the activities of other ekti producers, the ebbs and flows of the market.” He narrowed his eyes. “But how can I be reassured that you would keep my business secrets? I would lose a great deal if a competitor discovered what I’m doing.”