Horizon Storms (26 page)

Sullivan let out an amused sigh. “All right, now who are you talking to?”

Speaking with only a fragment of his attention, the green priest answered, “Just a few friends. It’s nothing important.”

“Uh-huh. I had a teenage daughter once. I know how it can be—on the data network, or using voice communication, or even occasionally chatting face-to-face.”

Now the green priest opened his eyes. “I’m far away from my comrades here, and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen them. But we exchange plenty of information. A green priest’s purpose is to communicate, with each other and with the worldtrees.”

He had never seen Kolker when he wasn’t connected to his treeling.

“And you do an excellent job of it.”

Sullivan felt the biting breeze on his cheeks from the ocean of hydrogen-rich clouds. The sky harvester hummed along, while small ships flitted around and inspection crews crawled over the lower hull of the processing 152

modules. Every system operated perfectly. He couldn’t have asked for better results. “Talk to your pen pals as often as you like, Kolker, as long as you give priority to my communiqués and status reports when I ask.”

Kolker finished his mental message and released the treeling. “I could talk with you, as well, Sullivan.” He said it as if the thought had just occurred to him. “After all, you are right here beside me.”

“Oh, but am I as interesting? Why don’t you tell me about your friend—the one you were just talking to? What’s my competition?”

“No competition.” Kolker stroked the delicate fronds of the treeling.

“Yarrod and I were acolytes together, but he never wanted to leave the embrace of the worldforest, while I chose to travel around and see the wonders of the Spiral Arm. The trees like that, you know. In effect, I am a set of wide and curious eyes that the forest itself doesn’t have. A sightseer by proxy. I share everything with the worldforest. It’s the greatest service a green priest can do in return for the joys of telink. I’ve got a list of all the planets I’ve visited. This gas giant has a sort of majesty, an awesome vastness that is difficult to convey.”

They both stared out at the swirling deep soup of clouds. “I just hope monsters don’t lurk beneath those cloud decks,” Sullivan said. “We’ve been here two months already, but I still feel like we’re on borrowed time.

I just checked all the evacuation systems this morning and reviewed our emergency procedures. I’d stage another drill . . . but it would cut into our production time.”

“Do you ever sleep, Sullivan Gold?”

“I fit it into my schedule once in a while.”

Suddenly, they heard a roar of engines overhead, saw seven immense and gaudy shapes. The profiles of Ildiran warliners were unmistakable, like tropical fighting fish that trailed solar streamers and bristled with weapons.

Alarms began to ring in Sullivan’s control rooms. Warning announcements thundered through the intercom systems. He stared, then shook his head. “This isn’t good. Not at all.”

Already Kolker was connected to his treeling, quickly describing what he saw. The warliners grew larger and larger as they approached the Hansa cloud harvester. A huge old-model Ildiran skyfactory accompanied the cluster of alien battleships, towed along. Facing them here in the vast,

empty skies, Sullivan thought the Ildiran warliners looked ominous and threatening.

“Looks like the new neighbors are moving in.” He stared until his eyes hurt. “Hmm, this may be an empty and uninhabited planet—but I wonder if the Hansa bothered to secure permission from the Ildirans for our activities . . . or if those warliners think we’re trespassing.”

Kolker looked up. “Perhaps that question should have been asked before now.”

“You’d better inform the Hansa that we’re about to have a little encounter with the Ildirans here. Ask them if we have formal permission from the Mage-Imperator to be on Qronha 3.”

“Yes. This will make a fascinating story—”

“Now, Kolker.”

A florid-faced communications officer raced to the observation deck, flinging open the hatch and looking around for Sullivan. “It’s the Ildiran Solar Navy, Mr. Gold! They are demanding to know what humans are doing here in their territory.”

“Not good.” Sullivan watched the monstrous warliners, then hurried toward the comm center. The Ildirans had never been a threat before, but these vessels could destroy the new cloud harvester within moments, if they thought they had enough provocation. “I’d better talk to them right away. We may be in trouble, unless I can turn on the charm.”

“Yes, we may be in trouble,” Kolker said. Sullivan couldn’t tell if the green priest was simply agreeing with him, or if it was an attempt at humor.

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445ADAR ZAN’NH

Immediately after receiving his instructions from the Mage-Imperator, Zan’nh had gathered his seven warliners and a skymining crew while Hroa’x, the chief miner, prepared a full-size cloud harvester for transport to the nearby gas giant. He had never imagined that ambitious Hansa in-dustrialists would arrive at the skymining fields first. No, the young Adar had worried about encountering vengeful hydrogues on Qronha 3, but not greedy humans.

This would be the first real test of his ultimate responsibility for the Solar Navy. The soldiers, and the Mage-Imperator, would see how he dealt with this matter. Should he demonstrate his ability to be tough and strong . . . or should he just ignore the human intrusion? What actual harm did it cause? None.

Still, humans had proven that if they were given even the tiniest opening, they would seize it and push for more, and more, and more.

Adar Kori’nh had given his life to clear this planet of the hydrogue infestation, forever earning his place in the Saga of Seven Suns. Kori’nh had done it for his honor, for the Mage-Imperator, for the Ildiran Empire. The great Adar would never have sacrificed himself and forty-nine warliners for a bunch of opportunistic humans.

Determined to do the right thing, Zan’nh stood in the command nucleus as his septa escorted the largest of Ildira’s decommissioned skyfactories to the waiting gas giant. The Qronha binary, the closest star system to Ildira, comprised two of the seven suns in the capital world’s sky. Qronha’s lone gas planet was the first place Ildirans had harvested ekti, but the facilities had been destroyed in the hydrogue massacres at the beginning of the war.

Now Zan’nh intended to take back the world for Ildiran industry.

The big planet loomed in his warliner’s front viewport, the gentle storms rich with hydrogen available for conversion into stardrive fuel. The enormous skyfactory moved behind them, drawn along at high speed.

Guided by the eldest member of the skyminer kith, Hroa’x, this rejuve-

A D A R Z A N ’ N H

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nated facility was filled with Ildiran workers eager to process the clouds of Qronha 3 in order to rebuild dwindling ekti stockpiles for the Empire, as the Mage-Imperator had commanded.

But first they had to deal with the matter of these trespassers.

From what Zan’nh knew, voracious humans seized anything they wanted. “Bekh! Just as they did on Crenna.” The old Adar had talked of how humans had swept in to seize the leftovers on Crenna for themselves as soon as the Solar Navy had evacuated the Ildiran victims of the blindness plague. Though they had paid the Mage-Imperator for the right to do so, the humans were like hungry carrion eaters, taking advantage of Ildiran tragedy.

Zan’nh’s voice was cold as he issued orders. “Detach Hroa’x and his skyfactory from our escort beams and allow him to choose the best position in the cloud decks. He’ll want to get started with his work.” He clenched the railing in the command nucleus, making sure he sounded implacable and tough. He was the Adar now, and he took orders from no one but the Mage-Imperator. “Meanwhile, all warliners accompany me.”

He didn’t want to provoke a war, however . . . unless it was necessary.

Now, with the new skymine still trailing them, the seven ornate battleships descended into the atmosphere of Qronha 3 toward the lone Hansa cloud harvester. The human-crewed facility blithely cruised along, spewing exhaust gases as it functioned at full capacity. It was not as large as an Ildiran skyfactory, and probably had only a fraction of the crew. His warliners could destroy it easily, if need be.

“Open weapons ports. Power up our energy projectors.” When the weapons officers acknowledged his order, Zan’nh thought of another idea.

“And deploy all solar fins to their fullest extent. Extend banners and polar-ize the reflective coating.” That would make an intimidating show. The vessels extended peripheral projections, puffing themselves up in a dazzling threat.

Zan’nh pressed his lips together. Through the thism, his father would sense what he was doing. “Now, demand to know what they are doing here.”

After their warning was transmitted, a meek and frightened transmission came from the Hansa cloud harvester. Zan’nh had not yet made up his mind what to do, but he gestured to the communications officer.

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“Hello?” said a man’s voice. “Is this the new Adar? My, that’s a very impressive show of force—beautiful, yet intimidating in its own way.

Hello? My name is Sullivan Gold, manager of this industrial facility. I hope you’re aware that we are completely unarmed.”

Zan’nh thought a moment. “Then it is unfortunate for you, Sullivan Gold, that my warliners have a thorough array of weaponry.” He paced in the command nucleus, wondering what Adar Kori’nh would have done in this situation. He needed to send the humans a warning message here.

“The Terran Hanseatic League has clearly overstepped its bounds, and the Ildiran Empire has a right to take any appropriate action.”

The human replied, sounding frustrated, “Oh come on now! With everything else going on in the Spiral Arm, do you really want to trigger an unnecessary war against the Hansa? Neither of our races wants that.”

The annoying man was right, of course. Zan’nh didn’t want that. His warliners could easily cover up the destruction of the cloud harvester as a hydrogue attack, but humans and Ildirans were not at war with each other.

Still, the . . . audacity and blithe self-absorption of their assumptions galled him. Why did they think they had the right?

Though the man named Sullivan Gold sounded respectful, he did not seem particularly intimidated by the posturing. “I’ve got an idea, sir—why don’t we discuss a way to resolve this situation like gentlemen? After all, Qronha 3 is a gas giant. There’s certainly enough room for two harvesting facilities, right? The Hansa may have put its foot into a mess, but we can fix it. We won’t get in each other’s way, I promise.”

He paused, waiting for Zan’nh to reply, but the Adar made no answer.

Zan’nh had learned that silence could be a useful weapon.

Anxious, the human continued to chatter. “Listen, let me host you and your chief skyminer over here at our facility. We’ll show you everything we’ve done and share the weather data we’ve gathered. It’ll improve the efficiency of your own operations. All right?”

Good, Zan’nh thought. The situation was definitely moving in the right direction now. He remained silent a long while yet, enjoying the discomfort he must be inflicting on the Hansa crew.

The impatient human transmitted yet again, well before Zan’nh was ready to break the tension. “Or, if you want, I’ll shuttle myself over to your M A G E - I M P E R A T O R J O R A ’ H

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warliners so we can talk face-to-face. I’m flexible. What’ll it be, my place or yours?”

Adar Kori’nh would have told him to search for a way to end the conflict at no unnecessary cost of lives. That was how he wanted the Saga to remember him.

Zan’nh decided he did not want to be in a position where he had to offer hospitality to these interlopers. Instead, he would let them make the overtures.

“I will come to your facility. We will resolve this situation without unnecessary casualties.”

“Good idea.”

Zan’nh knew he had the upper hand here, both militarily and psycho-logically. One way or another, the Empire would emerge with honor here today.

455MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H

On Ildira, the Klikiss robot entered the Prism Palace, bypassing the traditional spiral pilgrimage route that crossed the seven radial streams. The looming beetle-shaped machine pushed past the staring Ildiran supplicants who had flocked to Mijistra to gaze upon their new Mage-Imperator.

Angry guard kithmen closed in on the robot, trying to slow its inexorable progress, while others rushed messages to the skysphere reception hall where Jora’h sat in his chrysalis chair, holding court. The Mage-Imperator had just announced his departure for Dobro, at last.

His muscular daughter Yazra’h stayed with her father in the audience chamber, the three sleek Isix cats she kept as pets resting nearby. The ferocious-looking animals lay at her feet like liquid smoke rippling with 158

sinews and wiry muscles. Yazra’h instantly stood up as a messenger rushed in.

“A Klikiss robot is approaching, Liege! It refuses to stop.”

Without ceremony, the ominous insectile automaton lumbered into the dazzling skysphere hall. Even in the colored sunshine, the robot’s matte black exoskeleton seemed to drink up all the light. The robot swiveled its flat head, showing an array of crimson optical sensors that gleamed like baleful red stars. With an eerie grace on a set of fingerlike legs, it boldly approached the chrysalis chair.

Ildiran guards followed, their shoulders hunched as if they were prepared to tear the threatening robot limb from mechanical limb. But Jora’h cautiously raised his hand, not wanting to pit them unnecessarily against the powerful ancient machine. “I was not aware that the Klikiss robots requested a visit. What do you intend here?”

The robot raised itself until it towered a meter above the guard kithmen. The Mage-Imperator’s protectors showed not the least bit of intimidation. “I am Dekyk.” Its voice was like rough metal grating across stone.