Horizon Storms (29 page)

Now he finally smiled again. “That’s good.”

Eventually, Crenna’s sun grew conspicuous in the starscape in front of them. When the blazing ball of light filled the screen, she activated the filters. “Still quite a bit of sunspot activity, but nothing dangerous. Last time I came into the Crenna system to pick you up, I ran into several hydrogues sniffing around the sun. I don’t know what they were after. They seemed to be checking out some unusual solar activity.”

“Did they attack you?”

“No, I shut everything down and played possum. Either they didn’t spot the Curiosity, or they didn’t care.”

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“I’ve read current reports from the colony,” Davlin said. “There was no mention of any recent hydrogue sightings.”

“Good thing, then. BeBob liked the place as well.” She raised her eyebrows. “You recall Branson Roberts?”

“Yes, I remember Captain Roberts.”

“He’s flying with me now, taking the Blind Faith on cargo-hauling missions. But it’s all unofficial. He’s still technically absent without leave from the EDF. It was a waste to make him a blundering scout.”

“I’m sure General Lanyan doesn’t see it that way.”

“The General has perfect vision, but in only the narrowest portion of the spectrum. We’re not worried about him.”

These days, she and BeBob kept busy delivering construction supplies and heavy machinery. Upon arriving at Crenna, Rlinda was due to pick up a dozen or so volunteers for the colonization initiative, though she couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to leave a peaceful world and go off into the unknown. Some people always looked for better circumstances elsewhere. Others preferred the challenge of setting up their own society, wrenching a living from an untamed world. She didn’t know how a man like Davlin fit into the equation.

“I bet you’ll be bored down there in a year.”

“Boredom would be an . . . unusual condition for me. I look forward to it.” He let out what might have been a contented sigh.

Preserving as much velocity as possible, Rlinda came in on a shallow trajectory following the planet on its orbit around the sun. The colony world soon sparkled before them, a jewel hanging in space. “There you are, Davlin. Now comes the hard part for you. Before you disappeared, all those people down there thought you were just a run-of-the-mill colonist with a handful of engineering skills. They’ll have plenty of questions. Are you going to confess to being a spy?”

“A specialist in obscure details,” he repeated.

“Whatever.”

He looked at Rlinda, and his expression was stoic. “I’m perfectly capable of handling difficult assignments. The colonists down there are good-hearted people. They’ll accept me.”

She adjusted course and engine output, banking as the Voracious Curiosity entered Crenna’s outer atmosphere. She reached over to give him a P R I M E D E S I G N A T E T H O R ’ H

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comradely pat on the knee. “It’s been a pleasure having you aboard again, Davlin. Just remember, if there’s ever anything you need, I’m happy to help out.”

It was an offhand comment, one she had made many times. The man beside her seemed surprised. “That is a dangerous offer.”

“And you’ve tried to make yourself out to be a dangerous man.” With a shrug, she turned back to the controls and focused her concentration on landing at the colony. “But I think I’ll risk it.”

495PRIME DESIGNATE THOR’H

Though still scarred from the hydrogue attack, Hyrillka was recovering well. Prime Designate Thor’h was glad to be on this world where he had been happy, where he’d enjoyed the privileges of his noble rank without the unpleasant responsibilities. Hyrillka was his home, much more so than the Prism Palace in Mijistra.

The bright primary sun had already set, and the secondary rode low in the sky so that the air was a burnt orange, dimmer than Thor’h liked. The tiara of bright stars from the nearby Horizon Cluster rose, spangling the twilight. Back on the citadel palace’s hill, blazers shone through the streets and rooms, comforting the Ildirans. Diligent Pery’h remained inside, studying records and reports about Hyrillka’s history and productivity. The young Designate-in-waiting was a good administrator, dedicated to his work.

But Thor’h relished each moment alone with his uncle. He would have to go home soon.

He and Rusa’h walked together in the nialia fields, far from the bright cluster of glowing lights. In rebuilding Hyrillka, Thor’h had invested the greatest efforts in restoring the ornate citadel palace that had been blasted 174

into rubble. Because he so desperately wanted Hyrillka to be as it was during his happiest years, Thor’h had spent disproportionate time and effort restoring the sculptures, friezes, tilework, fountains, and furnishings, even the thick vines that had covered the open structure. The work had helped him to brush away the lingering scars from his own helpless terror during the attack. He had accomplished something.

Thor’h did not want to relinquish this lovely world for the obligations of the Prism Palace, though he knew he would have to. But not yet . . .

Rusa’h strolled beside and slightly ahead of him. The recovering Designate was oddly silent as he walked in the shadows between long rows of thick nialia vines. The petals of the male counterparts fluttered, disturbed by their passage. Rooted to the ground, the female vine clusters twitched and waved, agitated.

“Shiing production is already restored, Uncle,” Thor’h said, catching up with him. The processed drug was popular in the Ildiran Empire, offering a giddy, euphoric feeling of detached clarity and vivid luminosity, as if the partaker could see the Lightsource more closely. “The nialias grow quickly, and I’ve spared no expense on proper fertilizers and chemical at-tractants. The hydrogue icewaves made the fields wither and die, but this year’s harvest will be almost back to normal. Shiing will still be our primary export.”

Rusa’h continued to walk, silent and unconcerned. The Designate did not seem to enjoy conversation as much as he once had. In the past, Thor’h and Rusa’h had shared an enthusiasm for watching dancers, rememberers, artists, and singers, as well as the skyparades that took place every time Solar Navy ships arrived on Hyrillka. Designate Rusa’h had passionately adored his pleasure mates and nearly died while trying to rescue them.

But now that they had returned to Hyrillka at last, Rusa’h refused to take part in any grand celebrations. He was distant, beyond such things, as if only a part of him had returned from the light-drenched plane where his mind had been trapped in long unconsciousness. Pleasure mates surrounded him in the rebuilt citadel palace, but though he accepted their company, Rusa’h was no longer interested in their seductive wiles.

Thor’h frowned in concern at the uncommunicative Designate.

“What . . . what is it, Uncle?”

P R I M E D E S I G N A T E T H O R ’ H

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Rusa’h let his fingers trail along the fleshy leaves of the nialias. “I am listening for the plantmoths. Shiing is more than just a drug, Thor’h—it carries an important component of the Lightsource, like vibrant and flowing blood.” His voice was soft and distant.

Thor’h looked at the familiar growth alongside the silvery irrigation canals. Even under the dim orange sunlight, the long rows of nialias were aflutter with newly hatched and drifting plantmoths searching from vine to vine before choosing an appropriate mate.

Nialias were an unusual half-plant, half-animal life form. The main woody body grew rooted in the ground, while the mobile male form manifested as a whitish-silver moth. In its youth, a bulbous bud split open, and the male nialia plantmoth took flight, enjoying the light, flitting about in the air.

Connected to the thick and twisted stalks, the female nialia flower was a handsbreadth wide with lavender and powder-blue petals. At its center, a white ring of feathery stamens covered with pollen rose like outstretched hands, beckoning the searching males with cloying perfume, tempting them to give up their freedom to settle upon the female stem and begin the cross-fertilization.

As Thor’h watched, one of the males circled a potent-smelling female flower. The Hyrillka Designate stared with a strange intensity, as if using mental powers to make the male land. Finally, the silver-white flying creature dropped down onto the petals and inserted his legs deep into the pollen ring. Slowly, gently, the female petals enfolded the male, drawing the two bodies together until they converged into a single mass. The fleshy sides of the flower and its stem pumped and flexed as male and female united, mixing fluids. Before long, the male’s wings would drop off, and the combined form would swell into a ripe nialia fruit.

With an abrupt predatory movement, Rusa’h tore off the newly fused pair, crushing the squirming growth in his palm. He lifted his clenched fist above his head, turning his face up into the orange sky as he squeezed.

Silvery-blue juices and sap trickled into the Designate’s open mouth, some of it splattering messily on his lips, cheeks, and chin. His eyes were bright and unfocused.

Finished, he turned and looked at Thor’h without wiping the bloodsap from his mouth. “Fresh shiing is the best, and strongest. Much 176

more . . . intense than the processed form. It brings me even closer to the Lightsource.”

Thor’h had tried only appropriately processed shiing. When taken in large doses, shiing dulled an Ildiran’s connection with the thism network.

Some found the temporary sensation relaxing; Thor’h considered it liberating. Lights were brighter, thoughts clearer. Under its influence, he felt buoyant, existing in a mental state of zero gravity.

This mixed bloodsap, though, was pure and oozing with stimulant.

Even so, he was not tempted.

Now the deep, rustling silence of the fields bothered Thor’h. He felt the need to make conversation to dispel his uneasiness about what Rusa’h had just done. “Even though I am the Prime Designate, I wish I could stay here with you, Uncle. Pery’h would be better off back at the Prism Palace, but he is your Designate-in-waiting.”

Rusa’h looked at him strangely and wiped the sticky droplets from his chin. He cast the ruined plantmoth to the ground and licked his fingers.

“You must do what is best for the Ildiran people. That is your destiny.”

Thor’h knew what he was supposed to say, even though it made him uncomfortable. “Yes, I will obey the Mage-Imperator, my father. I will serve . . . and make the Empire strong.”

But his uncle surprised him. “Obeying the Mage-Imperator may not be the best thing for you to do, Thor’h. Sometimes the Lightsource is not clear to everyone, and any Ildiran can be blinded or deluded. Even your father.”

Thor’h did not know how to respond. “But he is the Mage-Imperator.”

“He is . . . Jora’h.”

Thor’h frowned, deeply uneasy now. “Maybe we should go back to the citadel palace, Uncle? Where it’s brighter?”

“You may return if you like. I prefer to remain out here alone.”

“Alone?” Thor’h couldn’t grasp the concept that any Ildiran would wish such a thing upon himself.

“Alone.”

“The shadows aren’t too oppressive for you here? In a few hours the primary sun will rise again, and we can come back when the day is brighter—”

Rusa’h turned to look at him, not at all unsettled by the shadows. “If I carry the light inside me, I need never fear the darkness.”

Thor’h shuddered. “I suppose that if you have been to the realm of the Lightsource, then you know many things that I’ll never understand.”

“Oh, you will understand, Thor’h.” The drying film of shiing on Rusa’h’s face glistened in the light. “I will make you understand.”

505BASIL WENCESLAS

It was an informal inspection tour of the Soldier compy production lines, and also a place with sufficient background noise that Basil could talk to the commander of the Earth Defense Forces without being overheard.

“What exactly are you looking for, Mr. Chairman?” General Lanyan stood beside him as they watched the identical military robots emerge from the fabrication stations.

Basil gave him a wry smile. “Sometimes I just like to observe, General.

People place altogether too much importance on formal inspections. Today I don’t need King Peter, or Admiral Stromo, or Mr. Pellidor, or any one of a hundred protocol or Hansa assistants. I wanted to see the compies—and speak to you.”

Lanyan stiffened, as if presenting himself for a medal. “You received the reports from this morning? All three additional Klikiss Torches were successfully deployed. Three more hydrogue infestations burned out. An unqualified victory.”

“Mmm. At least we can use it for additional cheery propaganda.” He stared at the military compies, not meeting Lanyan’s gaze. The machines moved one after another in perfect lockstep, according to their programming. It was breathtaking. Soldier compies would never hesitate. They followed their instruction set and did not argue, did not question the moral 178

basis of any orders . . . and did not behave like children. Basil had had enough of that in recent months from Prince Daniel, from Peter, from the green priests, from the Roamers.

He said, “It’s good to see somebody do exactly as instructed, for a change. If only we could process and train human recruits so efficiently.”

He knew that King Peter still had his paranoid delusions about the new compies, but the Chairman kept Peter on a short, tight leash to prevent any further irrational outbursts.

Engineering Specialist Swendsen and Chief Scientist Palawu had done a fine job getting these compy factories running to optimal specs. After sending Palawu to Rheindic Co to analyze the Klikiss transportals, Basil had instructed Swendsen to devote his research to the hydrogue debris brought from Theroc. The factories were functioning well enough without the two men.

Lanyan continued: “It may also be wise to use Soldier compies to fly recon ships to hydrogue gas giants. At least they’ll be more reliable than our conscripted human pilots. According to my records, two more of our drafted scouts have simply vanished. That makes thirty quitters so far, and we haven’t been able to find any of them.” His expression darkened. “Each deserter is a personal slap in the face. I can’t imagine what these people consider to be more important than serving the Earth Defense Forces in this time of war.”