Forces gathered for the final face-off at Earth. Though stripped of most of his fleet by the Soldier compy uprising, General Lanyan prepared the remaining EDF forces for a last stand. Adar Zan’nh of the Ildiran Solar Navy sent hundreds of warliners to assist the Hansa, but he had secret orders (dictated by the hydrogues) to turn against the humans at a critical moment. When the astonishing fleet of enemy warglobes poured into Earth’s solar system, Sirix and his treacherous black robots also joined the fight, turning the EDF’s own ships against humanity. Roamers arrived in the free-for-all, dispatching ingenious new weapons against the enemy warglobes; then a group of deadly verdani treeships arrived, including the one captained by Beneto. At the last moment, Adar Zan’nh turned his Ildiran ships against the hydrogues, as well, and the tremendous battle became a rout. The hydrogues were resoundingly defeated.
King Peter and Queen Estarra used the chaos of the battle to escape from Chairman Wenceslas, and they flew away from Earth in a restored hydrogue derelict. Their loyal Teacher compy OX piloted the vessel, but in order to do so he was forced to purge most of the precious memories and historical files he had so painstakingly gathered over his existence. They had no choice, however; afterward, though he was perfectly functional, most of OX’s personality was gone.
As soon as the Solar Navy turned against the hydrogues at Earth, the sentinel warglobes on Ildira followed through on their threat and began to attack the Mage-Imperator’s palace. Osira’h, though, who had already formed a bridge with the hydrogues, now directed that channel against them. Linked with her mother, Osira’h allowed all the power of the worldforest to flood into the hydrogues, destroying them from within. . . .
With the hydrogues finally defeated, Chairman Wenceslas felt that he could restore his iron grip and make the Hansa strong again. He was astonished to learn that the King and Queen had escaped to Theroc, where they announced the formation of a new government. All of the orphaned Hansa colonies, Roamer clans, and Theroc had joined them. Basil was livid but unable to send a message, because all green priests had cut Earth off from outside communication.
The capricious faeros, having done their part to conquer the hydrogues, continued to range from world to world. They were now unified by a new leader, the remnants of the former Hyrillka Designate Rusa’h, who had gone mad and launched an abortive civil war. Rather than let himself be captured by Jora’h, he had flown his ship into a sun—where the faeros had bonded with him. Rusa’h blamed Dobro Designate Udru’h for his failure, and now returned to Dobro where Udru’h was being held prisoner after the human revolt. Fireballs filled the sky, and a flaming avatar of Rusa’h emerged, confronted Udru’h, and incinerated him. It was only the first step, though, because now the faeros declared war on the Ildiran Empire.
And on the colony of Llaro, Orli Covitz thought she had finally found a new home. Davlin Lotze was also trying to find a peaceful retirement there as a normal colonist. A group of EDF soldiers had been stationed around the transportal to make sure the Roamer detainees didn’t escape. While Orli was visiting the soldiers, the transportal suddenly activated and hordes of monstrous insect soldiers marched through from the far side of the Galaxy—accompanied by long-lost Margaret Colicos and the Friendly compy DD. The original Klikiss race, long thought to be extinct, simultaneously returned to Llaro and numerous Hansa colonies all across the Spiral Arm.
The Klikiss demanded that all humans leave, or be destroyed.
1 ORLI COVITZ
An unending swarm of giant beetlelike Klikiss poured through the transportal on Llaro for days, marching from some unknown, distant planet. During the initial panic, Mayor Ruis and the Roamer spokesman Roberto Clarin had issued a futile appeal for calm among the people. There was nothing more they could do. With the Klikiss controlling the transportal, the colonists had no way to leave Llaro. They were trapped.
The horror and shock gradually dulled to hopelessness and confusion. At least the creatures hadn’t killed anyone. Yet.
Alone on a barren hill, Orli Covitz stood looking toward the termite-mound ruins and the colony settlement. Thousands of intelligent bugs moved over the landscape, investigating everything with relentless, alien curiosity. No one understood what the Klikiss wanted—with the exception, perhaps, of the strangely haunted Margaret Colicos, the long-lost xeno-archaeologist who had spent years among them.
Presently, the fifteen-year-old girl saw Margaret trudging up the hill toward her accompanied by DD, the Friendly compy who had taken a liking to Orli almost as soon as he arrived with Margaret through the transportal. The older woman wore the field jumpsuit of a xeno-archaeologist, its fabric and fastenings designed to last for years under tough conditions in the field, though by now it was tattered and stained.
DD walked cheerfully up to Orli. He studied her expression. “You appear to be sad, Orli Covitz.”
“My planet’s being invaded, DD. Just look at them. Thousands and thousands. We can’t live here with them, and we can’t get off the planet.”
“Margaret Colicos has lived among the Klikiss for a considerable time. She is still alive and healthy.”
Breathing heavily in the dry air, Margaret stopped beside the two. “Physically healthy, maybe. But you may want to reserve judgment as to my psychological health.”
The distant, shattered gaze of the older woman discomfited Orli. She didn’t want to imagine what Margaret must have endured among the giant insects.
“I am still getting used to talking with other people again, so my social skills may be somewhat lacking. I spent so long trying to think like the Klikiss. It was very draining.” She placed her hand on the compy’s shoulder. “I really thought I might go mad . . . until DD arrived.”
The compy didn’t seem aware of any sort of threat around them. “But we’re back now, Margaret Colicos. And safe among friends.”
“Safe?” Orli didn’t know if she would ever feel entirely safe again. Not long after she and her father had left dreary Dremen to become colonists on Corribus, black robots had wiped out the settlement, leaving only Orli and Mr. Steinman alive. To make a new start, she had come to Llaro. And now the Klikiss had invaded.
DD’s optimism was unrelenting. “Margaret understands the Klikiss. She will explain them to the colonists and show you how to live together. Won’t you, Margaret?”
Even the older woman had a skeptical expression on her face. “DD, I barely understand how I survived. Though my years of training as a xeno-archaeologist should count for something.”
Orli reached out and took her calloused hand. “Then you have to tell Mayor Ruis and Roberto Clarin what you know.”
DD dutifully took her other hand. “Knowledge is helpful, isn’t it, Margaret?”
“Yes, DD. Knowledge is a tool. I’ll explain what I learned and hope it turns out to be useful.”
As they descended the hill toward the town, they walked directly past several spiny Klikiss warriors and a troop of mottled yellow-and-black builders that had begun to dig long trenches, disregarding any boundaries the colonists had marked. Anxious, Orli held the woman’s hand tightly. Margaret was unruffled, though; she paid no more attention to the individual Klikiss than the creatures seemed to pay her.
“Why are there so many types of Klikiss? They’ve all got different colors and markings.” Orli had even seen some with almost human heads and faces like hard masks, though most just looked like bugs.
“Klikiss don’t have sexes, they have sub-breeds. The large spiny ones are warriors to fight in the many hive wars. Others are gatherers, builders, scouts, scientists.”
“You can’t be serious. Those bugs have scientists?”
“And mathematicians and engineers.” Margaret raised her eyebrows with a certain measure of admiration. “They discovered the transportal technology, after all. They invented the Klikiss Torch and left detailed records and intricate equations on the walls of their ruins. Those creatures solve problems through brute force—and they do it well.”
Orli
watched the swarming Klikiss, whose clustered, towerlike structures looked like a giant hive complex. “Do they have a queen?”
Margaret stared with unfocused eyes, as if buried in unforgettable nightmares. “Not a queen—a breedex, neither male nor female. It is the mind and soul of the hive.”
Orli drew the woman’s attention back to the real question. “But what do they want?”
Margaret remained quiet for so long that Orli thought she hadn’t heard. Then the archaeologist said, “Everything.”
Most of the Klikiss had moved back into their ancient city as if nothing had changed in millennia. One huge Klikiss, with a silvery exoskeleton adorned with black tiger stripes, had an extra pair of segmented legs, a carapace full of spikes and polished knobs, and several sets of faceted eyes. Its head/face was ovoid, composed of many small plates that shifted and moved, almost giving it expressions. This one seemed much . . . vaster somehow, more important and ominous than the others. Orli stared, her eyes wide.
“That is one of the eight domates that attend the breedex,” Margaret said. “They provide additional genetic material necessary for spreading the hive.”
“Will I see the breedex myself?”
The older woman flinched. “Hope you do not. It is very risky.”
“Did you ever see her—it, I mean?”
“Many times. It is how I survived.” She offered nothing more.
“So it can’t be that risky.”
“It is.”
They passed by EDF barracks built among the alien towers. The soldiers were pale and frightened, their uniforms rumpled and stained. These Eddies—stationed here with instructions to “protect the colonists” and guard the transportal so the Roamer detainees didn’t escape—could now do little more than watch the invasion, as helpless as the colonists they were supposed to safeguard.
Orli was surprised to see that the Klikiss had not disarmed the troops. “Why do the soldiers still have their guns?”
“The Klikiss don’t care.”
Without asking permission or making any gesture to acknowledge what they were doing, the Klikiss workers began to tear down the modular barracks, ripping open the walls with their armored claws.
The edgy EDF soldiers began shouting. “Wait a minute!” Some of them pushed forward. “At least let us get our stuff out first.”
The bustling insects diligently continued their tasks, paying no more attention to the distraught men than they would to ornamental rocks.
Bolstered by their fellows, several soldiers ran toward the barracks. “Stop! Hold on!”
Klikiss workers tore one section into scrap metal, strewing dismantled bunks, storage units, clothing, and supplies around like garbage. The nearest EDF soldier got in the way of an insectile demolitionist and raised his pulse jazer rifle. “Back off, bugs! I’m warning you—”
The Klikiss swung a segmented limb, decapitated the man, and returned to its labors before the corpse fell to the ground. Outraged, nine uniformed soldiers screamed, took aim with their high-powered rifles, and started shooting.
Margaret groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. “This will turn out badly.”
“Isn’t there something you can do?” Orli cried.
“Not a thing.”
As projectiles slammed into them, the insect creatures didn’t comprehend what was happening. Despite the weapons fire cutting them down, workers continued to destroy lockers full of clothing, equipment, scrapbooks of friends and family.
EDF weapons splattered eleven of the insect workers before the rest of the subhive turned on the soldiers. Dozens of spiny warriors marched up while the soldiers kept firing until their weapons were empty.
Then the Klikiss killed them.
Orli stared at the bloodshed, speechless. Even DD seemed alarmed. A troop of workers arrived to replace the dead insects, and others hauled the human and Klikiss bodies away.
A tiger-striped domate strode up to Margaret and spoke in a clattering language. Margaret made a clicking, unnatural sound in her throat, while DD translated for Orli. “The domate says those newbreeds are defective. They have been eliminated from the gene pool.” It turned away as a new troop of workers continued the demolition of the barracks in order to build their own structures.
“They’re going to kill us all, aren’t they?” Orli asked with grim resignation.
“The Klikiss aren’t here for you.” Margaret narrowed her eyes, staring at the ancient structure that housed the transportal. “I learned something very important when I deciphered their language. Their primary enemies are the black robots. The Klikiss mean to wipe them out. All of the robots. Just don’t get in the way.”
2 SIRIX
Despite significant setbacks, Sirix and his black robots were undefeated. He immediately formulated a revision to his plan and determined that the robots would recapture—or destroy—one world at a time. The human military was greatly weakened, their governments too scattered to do anything about it.
All of the long-hibernating robots had been reawakened and were ready to complete their mission. The base that the robots had seized on Maratha was nearly completed, and Sirix’s military force would be substantially augmented by the stolen EDF battleships. They would form a metal swarm to crush the humans and then the Ildirans. Extreme and unprecedented violence was the only appropriate course of action.
Until recently, he had felt invincible, but in the free-for-all between the human military, hydrogue warglobes, monstrous verdani treeships, and Ildiran warliners, the robot fleet had been decimated. Worst of all, Sirix had lost many of his ancient, irreplaceable comrades. After millennia of planning, he had expected to conquer Earth and eradicate the rest of humanity, much as the myriad robots had exterminated the creator Klikiss race thousands of years ago. He had never postulated that the hydrogues might lose.
Seeing the tide turn, Sirix had assessed the damage, gauged his limitations, redefined his objectives—rather than admitting actual defeat—and retreated. Now, isolated in empty space, the remaining ships were safe, and Sirix intended to retaliate swiftly. One world at a time. From the bridge of his Juggernaut, he led his battleships toward a new destination. A planet called Wollamor.
He reviewed the tallies of his remaining weapons and resources: Out of thousands of ships, he still had three Juggernauts (one severely damaged), 173 Manta cruisers, seventeen slow-moving but heavily armed Thunderhead weapons platforms, more than two thousand Remora small attack ships, and enough stardrive fuel to grant them reasonable mobility from system to system, provided the engines operated at peak efficiency. They had standard-issue weaponry, explosives, even sixty-eight atomic warheads. It would be enough. Soon, when the rest of his robots completed their tasks on Maratha, they would have an invincible predatory force.
Soldier compies operated the Juggernaut’s relevant consoles, though many stations were unmanned and unnecessary—life-support systems, science stations, communications centers. Dried bloodstains caked the floor and diagnostic panels. Admiral Wu-Lin himself had died here, fighting the rebellious Soldier compies with his bare hands after his weapons gave out. Nineteen human bodies had been removed from the bridge; more than six hundred humans had been hunted down, trapped, and executed on other decks. Sirix had no interest in keeping prisoners. They were not relevant to his plans.
Given time, the bloodstains would degrade, and so long as the systems functioned, he cared little for hygiene or cosmetic appearances. Such things had never been of concern to his insectoid creators either, and the Klikiss had programmed their behavior traits into the robots.
The lift doors opened, and Ilkot walked onto the bridge on his clusters of fingerlike legs. He communicated in a staccato flash of coded electronic signals. “According to the ship’s database, Wollamor has been claimed by the humans as part of their colonization initiative.”
“It is a former Klikiss world, and all Klikiss worlds are ours.” Sirix studied the screen, pinpointing the bright star and the mottled brown, gre
en, and blue planet in orbit around it. Though diminished, his battle group was more than sufficient to crush the unwanted human presence below and take possession of Wollamor.
This was a near-forgotten outpost from ancient times, former home of a subhive whose breedex had been slaughtered in the interminable Klikiss wars. Sirix himself had been persecuted on Wollamor thousands of years ago. This time, though, his arrival would be far different.
Soldier compies working the key bridge stations alerted him to an incoming transmission. The extended sensors of the colony’s satellite network had picked up the group of ships. “EDF, where have you been? We’ve waited six months for relief supplies!”
A second voice came on the comm. “We’ve been cut off here—no news, no green priests. What’s happening out there in the rest of the Spiral Arm? We thought you’d written us off.”
Sirix contemplated various fictions he could disseminate. Using snippets from stored log recordings, he could compile a convincing conversation and dupe these anxious colonists. But why bother? He decided that the benefits of such a ruse would not justify the effort necessary to convey veracity. “Maintain communications silence.”
Sirix sent a group of Manta cruisers forward to attack. He observed through external imagers while the cruisers plunged down like broad spearpoints, tearing through wispy clouds on their way to the rugged and cracked landscape. He easily spotted the primary colony settlement the humans had built around the old Klikiss ruins and the transportal gateway.
After deciphering how the ancient technology functioned, these human vermin had rushed through transportals, spreading like pernicious weeds across numerous pristine worlds. Klikiss worlds. Planets that by right belonged to Sirix and the black robots.
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