Rlinda Kett had already flown off on her mission to Ildira, and Daniel was anxious to rush off to his family. He felt guilty being on a comfortable planet with amenities, fine foods, and a beautiful climate. He could only think about Serene and their children lying sick during the deadly spore storm. He remembered Jeremiah Huystra, his swollen eyes, his convulsions, and his fever. By now, the leader might well be dead.
He had to go. Now.
Unfortunately, Daniel hadn’t brought along a sample of the grieka plant, so the researchers and engineers were operating blind. Within hours, Olaf Reeves and Bjorn Elkand scrounged possibilities from the resources on Theroc and from ships in orbit.
While all the materials and potential drugs were gathered, King Peter invited him to wait. “We’re doing everything we can, and as fast as we can.”
Estarra added, “In the meantime, we can teach you about what’s happened in the Confederation. You have a decade of history to catch up on.”
Daniel still felt awkward around the King and Queen. They had much to address, many wounds to heal, explanations to make, but he didn’t want to address that, didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.
“I don’t need to catch up on it,” Daniel said. “I’m going back home. I don’t want anything to do with the Confederation.”
“Then tell us about your family,” Estarra said in a compassionate voice. “We have two children of our own—a son and a daughter, Reynald and Arita.”
Daniel’s voice trembled when he let himself talk about Serene, Malachi, Enoch, and Ruth. He grew wistful, picturing them in his mind.
In a lull, Peter said in a low voice. “Sorry about what we did to you.”
Daniel shrugged. “I deserved it and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Really, it was.”
Before he could explain further, though, Olaf and Bjorn entered the private chamber in the fungus-reef, wearing serious looks. “Our ship is loaded and ready to go, Daniel. We have filtration masks and respirators, anti-allergen treatments, and other basic preventive options. When would you like to go?”
Daniel sprang to his feet. “Right now. I don’t want to wait another hour.” What if he arrived an hour too late to save Serene? What if the slightest delay of changing clothes or eating a farewell meal cost the lives of his friends?
Peter said, “I can follow up with a CDF crew, under strict secrecy.”
Daniel shook his head. “Even if we saved all my people, they would probably shun me if I did that.”
Olaf said, “The boy means it, Sire. Bjorn and I will fix the problem as best we can. Let’s hope it’s enough.”
“It’ll be enough,” Daniel said. “Let’s go.”
He gave a quick bow, not with the formality and respect Chairman Wenceslas had taught him, but it was enough. Olaf and Bjorn hurried him to the treetop-canopy landing field. Since the Roamer’s request for aid to the Rendezvous project had been denied, Olaf seemed just as eager to go.
* * *
Even at top speed, the trip to Happiness would take two days. Daniel tried to figure out how long he’d been gone—no simple task, having moved from planet to planet—and also to calculate the life cycle of the sporeflowers. How long would it take for them to mature and become deadly? By now, many of them must have burst, filling the air with a fog of toxic allergens. Covering their faces with scarves and rags would not be enough to protect the neo-Amish.
He was miserable during the flight, anxious, dreading.
Bjorn was the more conversational of the two. He offered to play games to kill time, teaching Daniel some games of chance, but Daniel kept focusing on his own worries.
More serious, Olaf concentrated on what they would do when they arrived at their destination. The Roamer clan leader pulled up data projections. “Look here, young man. These are different biological protective devices, filters that can block the even tiniest viruses, but you won’t need that. Relatively speaking, spores are huge. These simple masks will stop most of the contamination.”
Bjorn added, “There must be a critical exposure level. Even filtering ninety percent of the spores will probably reduce the exposures to nonfatal levels.”
“But we don’t know,” Daniel said.
“No, we don’t know. Drugs may be more effective. We have a wide variety of broad-spectrum anti-allergens. It’ll take some experimentation, and it may not save people who have already inhaled a fatal amount of the toxin, but something’s got to work.” Olaf called up a final set of images. “As a last resort, we’ll use targeted incinerators. We’ll destroy any of the grieka plants that haven’t yet burst, and do what we can to minimize the next outbreak.”
Imagining their fields, the hillsides, the valley, the upper meadows all in flames, Daniel shuddered. “Those spores cover the continent, and they’ll keep spreading, carried on the wind. Next cycle they’ll all come back.”
“And you’ll be ready for them,” Olaf said. “But only if we find something that works this time.”
Bjorn added with a cocky grin on his long face. “I still want to use the targeted incinerators and show those plants we mean business.”
“This is a job designed for Roamers,” Olaf said. “We’re good at surviving in difficult environments, and we know what it means to stay hidden.”
Bjorn finished setting up a solitaire game on his own pad. “Think of how many people would die if you didn’t try. Life is hard enough, no need to make it harder than necessary. Take help when it’s offered.”
“We’ll accept the help,” Daniel said, “so long as the price isn’t too high.”
“I understand the consequences,” Olaf said. “I will keep the price for you and your people at an acceptable level.”
They would arrive at Happiness in six hours.
Chapter Nineteen
Rlinda Kett
The seven suns in the Ildiran sky made the entire world dazzle. Rlinda wore protective eye covering, but she still had to squint as she looked at the crystal structures of the capital city sparkling under the glare. It was marvelous.
She had landed the Curiosity on an upper diplomatic deck of the Prism Palace. The reconstruction of the exotic palace was more than half completed after the faeros had caused tremendous damage at the end of the Elemental War. The Ildirans had accomplished far more than any human work crews would have done in the same amount of time.
The members of the humanoid alien race were all connected by a faint racial telepathy called thism, centered around the Mage-Imperator Jora’h, who had pulled them together to work like a cooperative hive mind on the tremendous task of rebuilding not just the Prism Palace but their entire city.
As Rlinda emerged from the ship, Ildiran noble kith came to meet her with great formality. The nobles were handsome with olive-colored skin and elaborate robes made of reflective strips and shimmering silky fabrics.
She shaded her eyes with a hand and looked around her to see the great city springing up like wildflowers in the desert after a rain. “You will have this place rebuilt in another year or so. It would take the human race fifty years or more to do what you’ve done here in nine.”
“We are impatient to restore the Empire.” The Ildiran noble gestured. “Follow me into the Skysphere. The Mage-Imperator will be pleased to see you, as always.”
Rlinda had been here many times as Trade Minister. King Peter and Queen Estarra already had a good relationship with Mage-Imperator Jora’h, who was perfectly amenable to negotiating continued commerce with the new Confederation. Not only had Jora’h been an ally of the human race against the deadly elementals, but his soul mate Nira was a human green priest.
The gift that Rlinda had been sent to deliver would be of special interest to Nira.
* * *
Inside the Prism Palace, the Mage-Imperator held court in a cavernous chamber. He sat in his chrysalis chair to receive supplications, but most of his people simply came to gaze upon their godlike leader. The Mage-Imperator was supposed to recline
and never let his feet touch the ground, but Jora’h had dispensed with that tradition, impatient with the constraints during the Elemental War.
He was a strikingly handsome man with a strong face and firm jaw, high cheekbones, and a wreath of finely braided hair that wafted around his head like a restless corona. Jora’h stood to greet Rlinda, along with the beautiful female green priest at his side. Nira’s emerald skin was smooth, hairless. According to Theron tradition, the green priest wore nothing but a loincloth. Nira’s smile widened with delight as she saw what the worker kithmen carried, following Rlinda into the Skysphere audience chamber.
“I come bearing gifts, Mage-Imperator. You’ll forgive me if they’re intended for the lovely green priest rather than yourself.”
He touched Nira’s arm. “Any gift for Nira pleases me—especially these.”
The four Ildiran workers carried clay pots, each of which held a delicate treeling, an offshoot of the Theron worldtrees. Each one was no more than a foot tall with feathery green fronds and finely scaled gold bark.
“I still have my personal treeling. That’s how I remain in contact with the other green priests.” Nira caught her breath. “But all of these—ahh, these will be wonderful! Jora’h, we will put them in the rooftop greenhouse dome. There are other Ildiran trees and shrubs there, but the more worldtrees we have, the more we will tie the Ildiran Empire with the Confederation.” Her eyes shone.
“We are already very closely bound,” Jora’h said, “but for you, I would do anything.”
Nira took one of the potted treelings and sat down on the dais steps, placing it on her lap. With delicate fingers she touched the fronds and closed her eyes. Rlinda knew she was using telink, mentally connecting with the interconnected mind of the worldforest. She let out a contented sigh. “The green priests welcome me again. Thank you, Rlinda Kett.”
Getting down to business, Rlinda delivered her summary of the new Roamer skymining efforts, asked for trade agreements for increased delivery of the stardrive fuel. “Many Confederation traders also wish to expand ties with the Ildiran Empire. I would have offered our construction teams to help with rebuilding the city, but you seem to have that well in hand.”
Jora’h nodded. “The Prism Palace should be restored very soon, exactly the way it was.”
Nira’s expression darkened. “Nothing will be exactly the way it was. We’ve all been through too much, and we have too many scars.”
“Wounds can heal, and scars can be tough,” Rlinda said. “And after the Elemental War, we’ve all certainly learned how to be tough.”
Causing a flurry among the courtiers, a military commander marched into the audience chamber and presented himself before the Mage-Imperator’s dais. He wore a scaled officer’s robe that extended down to his mid-thighs. His hair had been tied in a braid at the back of his shaved head. Rank symbols and military awards glittered on his chest.
The Mage-Imperator brightened. “Adar Zan’nh, I was just about to tell the Trade Minister our new plans for expanding the Empire.”
Rlinda was surprised. Expanding? The Ildirans were known for their lack of innovation, for maintaining their Empire for millennia without change.
Adar Zan’nh blinked. “If that is what you wish to tell her, Liege.”
Jora’h motioned, and two attenders came forward with crystalline image projectors, which projected a wire-frame image of a spaceship; a large sweeping model with ornate fins and an elongated body. It looked different from their ubiquitous Solar Navy warliners.
“This is the Kolpraxa. After the attacks from the hydrogues and the faeros, we learned and adapted,” Jora’h said. “Humans have shown us their imagination, their dreams, and we can learn from this as well.”
Rlinda admired the new vessel. “Looks interesting—and huge. What is it designed for?”
“It is an exploration ship. We intend to go beyond the Spiral Arm and see places that no Ildiran has ever seen.” Jora’h’s voice grew thick with emotion. “I realized after the War that we must know what is out there. The construction of the Kolpraxa is in its earliest planning stages, but we will explore.”
Rlinda marveled at the sheer audacity of the Ildirans being dreamers and innovators. “Things have changed indeed since the War.”
Adar Zan’nh seemed disturbed, and he clearly didn’t want to discuss exploration missions. With only a brief glance at Rlinda, he stepped up to the dais, placed his fist in the center of his chest in a sign of respect, then bowed. “There is another matter of some concern, Liege.”
“I know.” Jora’h dropped his voice. “I felt it in the thism as clearly as you did.”
Nira reacted with alarm. “What is it, Jora’h? You didn’t tell me.”
“We lost one of our Solar Navy warliners,” said Zan’nh. “A single ship on patrol near the Dhula system, commanded by Qul Loar’nh. Something happened to it.”
Jora’h said, “Through the thism we felt the alarm of the entire crew. They were injured, dying, but we don’t know what happened.”
“That’s because you don’t have green priests aboard your Solar Navy ships,” Nira said. “Then you could have instantaneous communication.”
“We sensed the emergency immediately,” Zan’nh said. “But we have no details. We know only that the ship disappeared. The system has no habitable planets, only two cold gas giants.”
“Could it have been hydrogues?” Rlinda asked. “Did they come out and strike?”
“There was no other activity in that sector,” said Zan’nh. “We don’t even have any splinter colonies there. If the warliner suffered some sort of disaster, no doubt Qul Loar’nh sent transmissions.” He bowed before the Mage-Imperator. “I request permission to mount an immediate expedition to investigate.”
“Of course, Adar. Gather a septa of warliners and depart when preparations are complete.”
Thinking of how she had recently gone to reestablish contact with the lost Hansa colonies, Rlinda said, “I’m good at finding things, and I can depart right now. I’ll go have a look.”
Adar Zan’nh frowned at her. “With gratitude, Trade Minister, but how could you rescue a Solar Navy warliner?”
“Why do people always underestimate me? We don’t even know what happened to the ship.”
“It is not your place,” Zan’nh said.
Rlinda shrugged. “Just trying to help.”
“You have helped a great deal already,” Jora’h said. “The treelings you brought will change Nira’s life, and for that you have our gratitude. That is enough for today.”
Rlinda nodded. “Then I’ll be satisfied with that.”
Chapter Twenty
Elisa Enturi
In the clouds of Qhardin, Candeen and Juvia goofed around with a pair of small open-frame airbikes that Elisa had sent along to Cloud Nine as a possible recreational activity. It was cold in the open air, so the two women bundled up, strapped in, and zipped out among the misty banks, whooping and shouting.
Grumbling, Oni Delkin tinkered with a third bike as Fourth pranced about, impatient to fly around the clouds as well. The young man stared longingly after them. “You should have had the bikes repaired and ready to go as soon as your guests arrived!”
Delkin fiddled with the engine, pushed the activator and listened to it thrum. “Yes, we should have, but I’m the only one here, and I was busy building the damned hotel for your arrival.”
“You should have more engineers then.” Fourth groaned as Candeen and Juvia did loops, then plunged down, vanishing into a murky bank.
Elisa stood next to him, arms crossed over her chest. “We’ll take that under advisement. I’m just as anxious to get you out there as you are.” She saw the clouds growing a ruddy orange as Qhardin’s sun finally set.
Finally, with the engine purring, Fourth secured his insulated jacket and climbed on the airbike. He strapped himself in too perfunctorily for Elisa’s tastes, and she held him back, personally making sure he was secure. Although the young man
annoyed her, she knew any kind of accident or disaster would embarrass Lee Iswander. He had given her carte blanche. He trusted her, and she had proceeded without his detailed knowledge. He wouldn’t give it any further thought until she delivered her summary report and proposal—if everything worked well. Losing the son of a very rich and influential family in a stupid accident would not look good in her prospectus.
Fourth roared off the deck, chasing after where the two women had vanished deep into the cloud layers. While he steadied himself on the unfamiliar bike, Candeen and Juvia rocketed up from below, trailing a rooster tail of mist with them as they soared together, laughing. Fourth streaked after them. Roland Kipps had declined to participate in the fun. The grim and shaken war survivor was not here for entertainment.
A signal came in over the comm as a new ship entered the atmosphere, tracking down the cluster of modules. “Calling Cloud Nine, this is Tel Robek, messenger for Iswander Industries. I’m trying to track down Elisa Enturi. Please tell me I have the right system.”
Oni Delkin seemed in no hurry to respond, and Elisa reached the comm before he did. “This is Elisa. You’re here on Mr. Iswander’s behalf?”
“Yes, he sent me. I’ve been searching, and you’re damned hard to find.”
“This is a confidential test operation,” she answered. “I didn’t want to broadcast what we’re doing. Is something wrong?”
“He gave me a recorded message. You can hear it for yourself as soon as I land.”
The compact scout ship was sleek and new with fine-tuned engines and few amenities, designed to accommodate a single courier or scout. New, fast, and cutting-edge technology—another sign of how Lee Iswander was different. Roamers would have patched up any old wreck and kept it functioning as long as possible without any consideration for appearances.
Robek climbed out, wearing a jumpsuit and a bright red cap, though why he needed a cap when sealed inside a piloting deck, she didn’t know. The cap didn’t serve him well either, because within five seconds of when he emerged, a strong breeze snatched it away and blew the cap far out into the sky.
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