“We’ll see if we can do something about that.” Jess and Cesca led them through the empty corridors of Academ.
“These wentals are pure,” Cesca insisted. “We can sense it, and there’s something they need us to do.”
Jess turned to his sister. “Something we need you to do, in your ship.”
“We have the Curiosity and Declan’s Glory,” Rlinda said. “What do you need?”
“The wentals want you to deliver something to Fireheart Station.”
Tasia and Robb looked at each other, then at Jess, raising their eyebrows. “Sure, we should make a trading run anyway.”
Rlinda broke in, “It’ll be good timing. You’ve heard the news? General Keah and Adar Zan’nh are bringing a giant military force there to kick some Shana Rei butt.”
Robb held up a hand. “You’re agreeing awfully fast. We don’t even know what the mission is yet.”
Tasia rolled her eyes. “If Jess asks, you know we’re going to do it, Robb.”
He sighed. “I suppose.”
When they reached the main office, KA was attending to administrative details, securing files and temporarily shutting down the school. The office walls were bare ice, and the frozen wall glowed.
Cesca set an empty liter-sized canister on the desk, while Jess stepped up to the wall of ice. “This is what we need you to deliver to Fireheart.”
He drew a square on the ice wall with his fingertip. The wentals reacted and melted a line of water in an eight-inch cube. Jess reached in to pull a perfectly cut block of ice from the wall. It held itself together through the will of the wentals, and once the cube was removed, the comet wall reshaped itself to fill the socket, leaving a smooth surface.
“Take this to the terrarium dome in Fireheart. The two green priests need it.” Jess carried the block to the liter container, and the wental ice thawed of its own volition. Like an amoeba, the water flowed into the canister and filled it precisely.
Rlinda grabbed the container. “I’ll deliver it. I’ve known little Celli for years.”
“We’ll take both ships and round up a load of special isotopes and new power blocks while we’re there,” Tasia said with a grin. “Sooner or later we’re going to distribute through Handon Station. Kett Shipping has to support Xander and Terry, you know.”
“I’m not sure how much is left of the company,” Robb said. “I wonder how many of our ships got away from Earth.…”
Rlinda said, “We’ll consolidate whatever we have. After all”—she held the container of wental water close—“Kett Shipping is still around as long as I’m still around. And the shadows haven’t gotten me yet.”
CHAPTER
89
LEE ISWANDER
After being shunned by the Roamer clans, Lee Iswander returned to his extraction operations and pondered what to do next. The price of ekti was already falling—a good thing for the customers, he supposed, but certainly bad for business, his business in particular.
Iswander had been through it all before, and he had survived.
Alec Pannebaker looked distraught when Iswander arrived back at the facility, alone. The deputy’s usually optimistic nature was more introspective. “I thought you should know, Chief—we’ve lost twenty-five workers in the past four days. Some gave notice, took their pay, and departed in their own ships. Others just disappeared into the night.” He shook his head. “Damned unprofessional, if you ask me—complete lack of courtesy. I have enough people to run the crews, though, and we’ve kept producing ekti while you were gone.”
“If we could only find a place to sell it…” Iswander said, disappointed with the bitterness in his voice.
Pannebaker scowled. “After all you’ve done for them, Chief, I’d hoped for a little more loyalty.”
“I’d hoped for a lot more of everything. But I’ve run industries most of my life. There are unreliable employees and good employees.” He looked up at his deputy. “You’re one of the good ones, Mr. Pannebaker, don’t ever forget that.”
Pannebaker scratched his goatee, embarrassed by the compliment. “Well, I’ve always liked to take risks and do daredevil things.” He forced a grin. “I never thought that staying by your side would be a risky thing.”
Iswander studied the summaries of their operations, the daily work logs. Ekti production was down—no surprise, due to the reduced workforce and, quite likely, because of diminished enthusiasm among the employees. But it was still a respectable output of stardrive fuel waiting to go to market. Surely somebody would need it.
He turned to go. “I’ll be in my quarters, Mr. Pannebaker. I have some business-development plans to write down.”
“If you need a sounding board, sir, I’d be happy to listen. A lot of our workers, even the loyal ones, want to know what’s next. Iswander Industries has poured everything into these bloater-extraction operations, but you always have another innovative idea up your sleeve.”
“You’re right, I’ve had plenty of ideas in the past. Thank you for your faith in me.” Iswander wondered just how many brilliant and innovative ideas one man was allowed to have in a lifetime.
He reached his quarters, which were cold, dark, and empty. Londa had been away on Newstation for some time, and now this place was his alone.
He scolded himself for his defeatist attitude. He still had money squirreled away from his past investments; he had knowledge and expertise and—as Pannebaker had just shown—he had good people to implement his plans. But he just wasn’t sure he had the energy to start all over again.
He sealed the door, looked at the bright, clean rooms, and lifted his chin with determination. He recited the mantra that he had said aloud so many times in recent weeks. A successful man fails more times than an average man bothers to try.
His workers believed in him—otherwise why would they have followed him after Sheol? Why would they have stayed after the terrible accusations leveled against him? Inertia? Yes, they had faith in him, and so did his wife and son. He knew it, and he loved them for it—even though he rarely showed his affection or his pride.
That was a failing on his part. A good leader always had to encourage his troops, to acknowledge the things they did for him so they would remain loyal. It was part of being a leader, but it was also part of being human. Perhaps Iswander had spent far too much time working on the former and not the latter.
He had taken his wife for granted, because she wasn’t the sort of driven person he was. Now these quarters felt hollow, mere rooms instead of a home. He looked at the walls and saw the art prints there, the stylish furniture, the colorful decorations, the well-maintained kitchen unit, their bedchamber, all of which carried personal touches he had not bothered to notice before. These were not just quarters for sleeping during down time. Now that Londa was gone, the place was a museum that reminded him of what normal life should be. Oh, he knew Londa remained just as devoted to him as ever, and that she loved and adored him. He hoped she was happy where she was.
Arden was also his future, his hope. The young man was growing stronger, even though he likely did not enjoy the pressures heaped on him at Academ. Iswander believed that giving a person an easy road to success was also a road to disaster; Arden would understand that someday.
He made himself tea and heated a packet of spiced protein noodles, knowing he needed to eat, even though he didn’t have much appetite. He sat in the empty chamber, chewing and thinking.
Elisa Enturi was also an exceptionally loyal worker, but sometimes loyalty could go too far, and now she was gone, too. Considering what she had done, he’d been forced to banish her, but if there had been any way to salvage the situation he would much rather have her here now.…
Nevertheless, he could rely on his own skills. He resolved to do so without feeling sorry for himself. Lee Iswander would find some way to reinvent himself. He would regain his respect in such a way that even the Roamer clans would have to admit that it was the greatest comeback story ever told … whatever that tur
ned out to be.
Although he wasn’t tired, Iswander knew he needed to sleep. But after he dimmed the lights, he just sat in the shadows and stared out the windowports, watching the extraction operations: pumping rigs, tankers, inspection pods, ekti-transport arrays. The activity gladdened him.
From this distance the operations looked marvelous, vibrant and successful. They were all he had now—along with his wife and son. Londa and Arden were his real legacy, and he had to leave them something worthy of the Iswander name. For now, he would tell his crews to keep working, to produce as much ekti-X as possible, because that was what they did. That was where they excelled.
Until his final chance fell apart, he was determined to squeeze every last drop of profit from these operations.
CHAPTER
90
ELISA ENTURI
Relleker was a mess, as Elisa had expected. After learning about the salvage operations, she had flown here to join Xander and Terry’s crew. She knew she could do the work; in fact, Elisa was convinced she could do anything that was necessary—preferably for someone who appreciated her efforts.
Unfortunately, doing “what was necessary” had led to her current situation, made her an outcast and an exile. A flare of anger toward Lee Iswander crossed her mind, only to be replaced by sad resolve. She had pondered much during the flight from Newstation to the Relleker system. Though it pained her, she couldn’t deny that Iswander had made the proper decision to save himself and his company. He needed to have a scapegoat, a sacrificial lamb. And that was Elisa.
Still, it hurt her. Everyone was howling for her blood anyway, so he had made the right choice. With cold objectivity, she knew she would have done the same in his shoes, although she believed loyalty should be a commodity more valuable than profits.
But if Iswander had stood by Elisa, what then? He would have taken the fall along with her, and if he had refused to turn her in to the authorities, then there might well have been a war—one that she was sure Iswander Industries would lose.
No, allowing her to slip away and stay free was probably his best choice as well as her best chance in the long run, because she didn’t have any good chances at all.…
Elisa had to make her own future, and in order to do so she would call in other favors. She had certainly earned enough of them during her years of hard work. By granting Xander Brindle and Terry Handon exclusive ekti-X distribution rights, she had made them a fortune. They owed her.…
The planet Relleker was damaged and dead, its cloudy skies stained black. Smoke and wildfires still raged across the continents after the robots’ devastator bombs, and only radioactive wastelands remained of the cities. The wreckage of ships created an obstacle course in orbit. As she flew in, she scanned the debris of CDF Mantas, the shrapnel of thousands of private and commercial vessels. She doubted many had gotten away.
Among the orbiting junk, she spotted more than a dozen active ships rounding up the largest remnants. She eavesdropped on their comm channels and, as expected, identified them as Roamer salvage ships, tugs gathering semi-intact vessels and large hull sections, which would be delivered to Rendezvous. Exosuited figures flitted about, stripping out engine components, disengaging large modules, and setting them free so they could drift to corral points.
Elisa maintained radio silence as she cruised closer, still observing, still listening. One group of people herded small drifting objects and arranged them in a stable array, tethered together. For a moment, judging by their general shape, she thought they were large ekti cylinders; then she realized they were human bodies, stiff corpses retrieved from the destroyed ships, now frozen in space.
Elisa guessed she would have to start at the bottom if she meant to work for Xander and Terry. Maybe there was no deeper bottom than being forced to retrieve cadavers and stack them in space. If she were asked to do that, she would accept the job, because she had to start somewhere … but she would demand respect, no matter what. She had lost too much already.
So many Roamer ships were flitting around the reclamation operations that no one noticed Elisa at first; they all simply assumed she had come to work just as the rest of them had. A smiling but harried Xander Brindle came over the general comm channel. “It’s slim pickings around here, and a lot of these ships are just lemons—but we’re going to make lemonade, to use a sour old cliché.” He chuckled at his own joke.
Terry Handon’s voice broke in, “I hate to point out, Xander, but there’ll be a lot more salvage at Earth.”
Xander balked. “I’m … I’m not ready for that yet. Thank the Guiding Star that my parents and Rlinda Kett got away.”
Terry came onscreen, taking a seat next to his partner in the Verne’s piloting deck. “But about five billion people didn’t.”
Elisa frowned. Something had happened on Earth? She had been out of communication contact since leaving Newstation. After she tapped into the appalling database reports and learned of the Shana Rei attack there, she decided it was time to announce herself. “If you need someone to manage operations at Earth, I’ll do the job, Xander Brindle—you know I’ll do it. Put me in charge if no one else wants the responsibility.”
On the screen, he recognized her with a surge of astonishment. “Elisa Enturi, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m joining your salvage operations. I am no longer employed by Iswander Industries. I gave you ekti-distribution across the Spiral Arm, and now I request the same consideration in return. I need a position.” She hardened her expression and leaned closer to the screen. “You know I’m competent. Let me work for you.”
Terry cringed. “Not in a million years!”
“I was looking for a slightly less permanent position than that,” she said.
A bearded old clan leader broke in on the comm channel. “Shizz, Xander—you know who that is? Suck it down a black hole, that’s Elisa Enturi! The bitch wiped out the clan Duquesne operations. She’s got blood on her hands, and a price on her head.”
Elisa was immediately alert. “Clan Duquesne provoked me, and it’s none of your business.”
“It is our business,” Terry said. “All the Roamer clans want you brought to justice. We have to take you in.”
Xander was flushed. “You attacked and tried to kill my parents!”
More than twenty Roamer ships raced toward her vessel, converging in among the debris. They were not large battleships, but she knew that every Roamer craft had significant defensive weaponry. All their systems were activated.
But Elisa’s ship had weaponry too.
CHAPTER
91
ZOE ALAKIS
Tom Rom’s new Klikiss samples were interesting, but useless for Zoe’s purposes. The royal jelly specimens taken from alien cadavers were ineffective as a treatment for the more virulent strain of the Onthos plague.
Safe inside her sterile chamber, Zoe studied the records again. Tom Rom had taken many images of the Klikiss ruins on Llaro, but she didn’t care about Klikiss architecture, culture, or history. With the insect race gone from the Spiral Arm, what did that matter?
What fascinated her was the alien plague itself, the viral specimen he had brought in his own bloodstream as the plague raged through his body; it was the closest he had ever come to death, and he had done it for her. Responding to news of the exotic disease spreading through the derelict Onthos space city, he had arrived too late. Every member of clan Reeves was dead, and the only infected person still alive had been Orli Covitz. Zoe didn’t know the details, but he had obtained the specimen from Orli, and gotten infected in the process.
True to his promise, he had used his last efforts to return to Pergamus and give Zoe what she’d requested—this sample, which she now held in her hands.
Though it went against her better judgment, she studied the specimen inside her sterile dome. Tom Rom would have been extremely upset if he knew the risk Zoe took when she transferred a sealed vial teeming with the mutated plague organism.
&n
bsp; She had already studied the medical data from clan Reeves, as well as ancient archival information about the original Onthos epidemic, all of which she had gained from King Peter and Queen Estarra in exchange for the Pergamus database on Prince Reynald’s illness. His debilitating microfungus infection was far less interesting to her than the Onthos plague, but even though the Confederation had destroyed Rakkem as promised, Zoe disliked the idea of making bargains. It left her vulnerable, and she didn’t want to give up proprietary information.
Zoe kept the sealed plague specimen in her private chamber. Although she wore gloves and a breathing mask, she knew that would not be sufficient if the specimen got loose. She normally kept herself so protected, so perfectly clean against all deadly organisms. Now that she had this sample vial right in front of her, she felt as if she were facing a monster. It gave her a secret thrill.
She admired the rare plague organism more than she liked to admit. Of all the germs, viruses, and parasites that proliferated by killing human beings, this one was the most perfect lethal organism—and Pergamus was filled with lethal organisms. Zoe had been obsessed with pathogens for most of her life. How could she not be enthralled with this one?
Zoe was annoyed to be disturbed from her study of the marvelous specimen when the perimeter sensors around Pergamus set off alarms. She wondered what intruder was bothering them now. Probably some pathetic dying person who wanted her to offer a magic cure, as if Pergamus sold such things like Rakkem did. The Pergamus mercenary forces always managed to drive the intruders away. Nothing good ever came of unannounced visitors.
The alarms were louder than ever, more insistent, and Zoe caught her breath as she glanced at the screen. In an image taken from orbit, she saw a gash open up in space. Inky black shadows spilled out like the oozing blood of night, and black hexagonal cylinders came through, surrounded by a cocoon of shadows.
A sharp cold flowed down her spine. Tom Rom had warned her of the Shana Rei threat, but Zoe had never taken it seriously. Not here. Now she stared in disbelief. The threat couldn’t possibly be real.
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