He stood in the bright sunshine that angled through the crystal panes, ready to make a journey with his mind. Kolker had spent so much of his life traveling to distant places, seeing new worlds and describing them to the worldtrees. He always felt a sense of wonder and mystery that was just beyond his reach, in spite of the marvelous things he had already seen. That wanderlust had set him apart from his friend Yarrod, who was unsure why any green priest would want to range so far from home. Kolker, though, maintained that “home” was with his treeling.
Now he summoned his thoughts and his energy. Yarrod deserved to feel this way, and his friend would finally be able to understand him, and so much more, through the thism/telink connection. Kolker smiled at the very thought. Yarrod would be receptive. He knew it.
Kolker touched the fronds and stared down into the light reflected in Tery’l’s medallion. He traveled out through telink and became part of the verdani mind, which seemed so much like the thism that joined the Ildirans. Kolker could make his proclamation, show anyone who was listening . . .
He found Yarrod standing alone below the great tree that held the fungus-reef city. It was late afternoon on Theroc. “My friend, I bring you something very important.” Kolker moved his lips, and the words came instantaneously through the tree on Theroc.
“Kolker! You’ve been so often silent lately. Once you regained a treeling, I thought we’d never hear the end of you.”
“I felt lost, unsure of myself, of my place as a green priest. But now I have a discovery—something even the worldtrees never suspected! You are my closest friend. Will you listen? Will you be open to my news?”
Yarrod’s voice came clear and sharp in his head. “Now you have me intrigued. What is it?”
Kolker had never tried to do the “opening” process at such a distance. He had always been close enough to touch, to see the expression on his new convert’s face, but he wanted to try this. He had a tight bond with this man, who was already open to telink. Kolker stretched out the fingers of his mind and discovered the invisible change he had to make in Yarrod’s—the tweak, like throwing an invisible switch. “Here. See what I’ve found.”
It was as if light poured down through the lines of telink, mingled with new soul-threads that blazed with an afterglow of the Ildiran Lightsource. Even from across the parsecs, Kolker could hear Yarrod’s gasp, could imagine his face shining with wonder. “This is . . . unprecedented. It is unbelievable!”
“Believe it. Share it. All green priests can be part of this. All humans can experience it.”
Kolker could almost feel his friend’s pulse quickening, his breaths deepening. “I will share it. I’ll tell the other green priests. Thank you, Kolker. Thank you!”
70 GENERAL KURT LANYAN
The Jupiter returned to Earth, but not to a victory parade. Chairman Wenceslas was not going to be pleased. Not at all.
General Lanyan had never been afraid of a good stand-up fight. He had faced impossible odds against hydrogues, Soldier compies, and black Klikiss robots. But this was different. Instead of securing a few small colonies for the Hansa, he’d blundered into a new war against a race he had never seen before. If the bugs swarmed to Hansa worlds, then the EDF had to be prepared.
Carrying its battered crew of soldiers and rescued colonists, the Juggernaut stopped off at the Mars EDF base for processing and debriefing, while he commandeered a fast in-system Remora to race back to Hansa HQ. It bought him some time. Lanyan knew there was no way he could keep the debacle under wraps. With the numerous witnesses, not to mention the casualties, people would find out sooner or later.
He used his command overrides to get through the layers of security and landed his ship directly in front of the Hansa pyramid. He bulldozed his way through the halls, pushing aside all manner of moat dragons, protocol attendants, and calendar specialists who frantically sent messages up the line. Once he reached the higher levels, Deputy Cain took one look at him, decided to run interference, and scheduled an immediate meeting with Chairman Wenceslas.
The Chairman came out into the hall to meet them before they could reach his office. “I do not like to have my carefully ordered day interrupted, General.” Basil stood straight-backed in the middle of the gray-carpeted corridor. The General felt a thick knot of fear in his stomach—a different kind of fear than he experienced in battle.
Many of the office doors were open, and Hansa administrators, ambassadors, and upper-echelon staff peered out at the commotion. Basil glared at them. “A little privacy, please.” Up and down the hall, the workers ducked back into their offices and the doors shut in a staccato succession.
“Since you’ve returned well ahead of schedule and are in a great rush to give your report, I can only assume I’m not going to like what you have to say.” He crossed his arms. “Or maybe you’ll surprise me. I’d like that for a change. Do you have good news? Did you complete your mission?”
“No, Mr. Chairman.” Lanyan cleared his throat to begin his grim summary, but Basil lifted a hand.
“I thought not. So tell me, exactly how many of our colony worlds did you consolidate before you decided to return? Ten? Fifteen?”
“None. We went only to Pym, where we encountered—”
“None? Of nearly two dozen worlds on your list, you went only to Pym? Did you at least manage to leave a force on Rheindic Co, which was already ours to begin with?”
“No, sir. We destroyed the base and the transportal on Rheindic Co. It was necessary to keep everyone safe.”
“You destroyed our main hub to all the transportal worlds?” Basil rubbed his temples; he seemed to be willfully missing Lanyan’s point. “So another failure, just like Admiral Willis. I give my EDF simple missions and sufficient manpower and weaponry. Why must I—”
The General raised his voice. “Mr. Chairman! We have a severe problem.” Before Basil could interrupt again, Lanyan explained about the Klikiss invading Pym and how he had caused as much harm as possible to the insect enemy.
“I’ve already been informed about the Klikiss by Admiral Willis. King Peter said his green priests had reported that nonsense.”
“Then are you making defensive plans? What are we going to do about it?” Lanyan looked at a hovering Deputy Cain, who seemed just as troubled. “If these Klikiss are as great a threat as I fear, and they decide to expand beyond their worlds—”
“I believe they’re only interested in a few formerly abandoned places.” Basil gave a dismissive wave as Lanyan stiffened. “General, you’re not focusing on the things that matter the most. I had hoped to secure those Colonization Initiative worlds, but now we’ll have to change our priorities. Not long ago the Hansa consisted of nearly a hundred unified planets. Now I can be certain of only a few worlds, and Earth. If the Klikiss do become a threat, then the Hansa has to be strong. We need our planets back. We need our people all under the same banner. My banner.”
71 ROBERTO CLARIN
While Mayor Ruis worried that Margaret’s terrifying revelation would spark panic and confusion among the trapped colonists, Clarin didn’t care. “By the Guiding Star, I’m not going to just bare my throat and let those damned bugs have lunch. We’re Roamers, colonists, pioneers. With all our brainpower, we’ve got to be able to figure out something.”
“I wish Davlin were here,” Ruis said. “He saved us from the hydrogues, and from freezing on Crenna. He’d have a good idea now.”
“Since he’s not here,” Clarin said pointedly, “I’ve got a few ideas of my own, and somebody else might have a brainstorm, too. Let’s pull everyone together and come up with a way to protect the rest of us.”
So they called a town meeting of the jittery colonists. Orli Covitz stood by Crim and Marla Chan Tylar, and DD brought Margaret to join them. The Governess compy stood with the seven children she watched.
Waving his hands and raising his voice, Clarin climbed onto the bed of an engineless harvesting wagon that had been left inside the stockade. Men and women milled
about, all wanting to know what was to become of them. None of them expected to hear good news.
“I won’t kid you. This is bad, real bad. That doesn’t mean we can’t fight. We’ve got to do something before the Klikiss kill all of us.” Pushing his words through the rising swell of dismay, Clarin called on Margaret to explain what she expected the Klikiss to do. The xeno-archaeologist’s words were raw and unforgiving. She laid out the facts, and some of the listeners collapsed, weeping; others clenched their fists and began looking for weapons. Clarin took hope from that. He could rally them.
“Before he left us, Davlin buried caches of explosives and fuel and weapons outside the wall. We need to retrieve them, but we’ve got to be unobtrusive about it. The Klikiss don’t pay much attention to us, but who can tell?” He shook his head. “No matter what happens, we can still make a difference. We’re going to show that breedex thing that humans aren’t going to sit around waiting for the dinner bell to ring. We’re damn well going to fight back with everything we’ve got.”
“We didn’t ask for this,” Ruis said. “We didn’t try to make the Klikiss our enemies. I admit, I didn’t believe they’d turn against us. It doesn’t make sense.”
From the crowd, Crim Tylar shouted, “Shizz, Roamers are used to being picked on for no reason!”
With a grim smile, Clarin added, “We’re also used to surviving impossible situations.”
The Klikiss had cannibalized components from the Llaro structures and equipment, but shoved some items aside, leaving piles of castoffs. Fortunately, perhaps because it was unlike their open-framework flying machines, the Klikiss had discarded the second Remora like so much junk. Though the EDF ship was partially disassembled, Clarin and three Roamer engineers slipped out at night, working with small handlights to surreptitiously repair the small craft. EDF equipment was paradoxically complicated and inefficient, but he and his team managed to reinstall the engines and run as many operational tests as possible without raising too much racket or drawing the attention of Klikiss scouts.
Most important, they fixed the short-range comm system. In the shadows of the cockpit, his face lit by green and amber control lights, Clarin transmitted his signal. “Davlin. Davlin Lotze. Can you respond? Mayor Ruis seems to think you can do anything. I heard you’re a former silver beret. If that’s the case—shizz, even if it isn’t—help us, if you can.”
He didn’t actually expect the man to be sitting in the cockpit of the Remora he had taken, waiting for a signal to come in. However, the ship had a comm log. Somebody in his hidden settlement of escapees should be able to get the message.
Clarin set the message on automatic repeat for every half hour and, before the Klikiss noticed the activity outside the stockade walls, he and his fellow workers slipped back in to prepare for their last stand.
72 SIRIX
The robot fleet used its remaining EDF weaponry to continue attacking former Klikiss worlds, one at a time. Each time Sirix found a subhive, he eradicated it. He struck without warning, crushing them when he could, retreating when he could not. Better to leave the ancient worlds in smoking rubble than to let the creators have them back.
But in spite of his victories, Sirix felt he was losing ground. The scenario reminded him too much of ancient days, when the black robots lost the original war and were enslaved by the primary breedex. Although he dared not let that happen again, he would not admit he was afraid. Not yet.
Sirix lumbered about on the bridge of his Juggernaut. His two well-trained Friendly compies accompanied him like loyal puppies. “Are we almost to our next destination?” PD asked.
“You will have something to shoot at soon enough.”
With ekti supplies alarmingly low and their stockpiles of explosives being depleted, however, he would have to make his depredations more efficient. He could not afford to waste fuel and weapons investigating every single planet formerly inhabited by Klikiss. Most of them were still empty. Sirix needed to be selective and accurate. He would have to engage in some fights directly, personally, using his robots, Soldier compies, and smaller weapons from the shipboard armories. Though it would not be as swift as a major orbital bombardment, he looked forward to the clash—face-to-face and claw-to-claw, just as in the original wars. The Klikiss would never forget it . . . no matter who survived the cataclysm.
But first he had to find a main breedex.
Landing on an unoccupied Klikiss planet, his robots surrounded a silent transportal wall. Sirix directed three Soldier compies one at a time to select coordinate tiles that led to known worlds his robots had not yet investigated. Each of the compy scouts dutifully marched through the murky stone gateway to conduct reconnaissance.
PD and QT watched the Soldier compies disappear to distant planets, searching for a major infestation. “What will they see when they arrive?” QT asked.
“They will see if the Klikiss are there.”
“And then what will they do?”
“They will either be destroyed, or they will report back to us that the planet is empty. That is the best way to choose our next target without wasting fuel.”
Two of the scouts returned quickly, supplying spy images they had obtained. The first world was completely empty, while the second had another small (and uninvited) settlement of humans. The humans had rushed toward the Soldier compy with questions, but the compy gave no answers and simply returned through the gateway. While Sirix would have loved to wipe out the unwelcome settlement, he had greater priorities.
The trapezoidal sheet of stone blurred as another gateway opened. He expected the third compy scout to return. Instead of the smooth humanoid form of the military robot, however, Klikiss warriors with multiple limbs filled the transportal frame, pressing forward.
His Soldier compies blasted the first Klikiss before they could emerge. More ominous silhouettes appeared in the transportal, and the warriors pushed through, ready to attack.
Sirix was ready for them. As a precaution, he had already implanted EDF demolitions around the base. “Destroy this side of the transportal.”
A quick explosion, and the trapezoidal sheet cracked and collapsed, shutting down the gateway and blocking off the Klikiss swarm. He swiveled his head toward PD and QT and all the black robots.
“Now we know the location of another Klikiss infestation we must destroy. A planet called Llaro.”
73 TASIA TAMBLYN
After Admiral Willis had been sent packing from Theroc with her tail between her legs, more and more Roamer vessels stopped in at the Osquivel shipyards, requesting modifications and armaments. Many traders, preparing for future attacks, formed a well-armed vigilante force in the hope that they could not be taken advantage of again.
Nikko Chan Tylar’s hybrid vessel caused quite a stir when it arrived at the shipyards. After being shot down by Klikiss robots on Jonah 12, Nikko’s Aquarius had been absorbed by Jess Tamblyn’s water-and-pearl vessel, and the wentals had regrown its components. The young man brought his exotic ship into one of the docking circles, carrying a load of much-needed flame-resistant gaskets, filtration mats, and durable fabrics from Constantine III.
As the Confederation’s “military” representatives, Tasia and Robb met Nikko in the small crowded cafeteria on the admin station. Tasia ran her fingers across the metal tabletop, smearing a layer of brown dust. When workers came through here at the end of every shift from the asteroid crushers and metal smelters, they brought residue with them.
Denn Peroni joined them, scanning down the Aquarius’s manifest and mumbling appreciatively. “We can use all of this. Vital components for starship engine cores. Good haul, Nikko. Your parents would be quite pleased.”
Nikko slurped from a bowl of noodles, added some hot oil, then slurped again. “My parents are missing.”
Denn nodded sympathetically. “Everything’s been a mess since the Eddies wrecked Rendezvous. We’re trying to compile a database, though. Now that we’ve got access to green priests on various colonies, we
can document who’s missing and try to track them down, but it’s a brain-bender.”
“I already know what happened to them,” Nikko blurted. “The damned Eddies attacked the Chan greenhouse asteroids, took my parents prisoner, then destroyed a lot of the domes. I barely escaped, myself.”
Denn shook his head. “But nobody knows where the Roamer detainees were taken. There’s probably hundreds from Hurricane Depot and Rendezvous, in addition to your greenhouse asteroids.”
“I bet they have a horrific slave camp somewhere.”
Tasia leaned back in her chair. “Relax, Nikko. It’s not as bad as all that. They’re on a very nice colony world—an abandoned Klikiss planet called Llaro.”
Nikko’s almond eyes widened. “How do you know that?”
“One of my duties with the EDF was to shuttle the detainees there. It’s not a hellhole prison planet. I should have thought about it before, but so many crazy things have been going on. There’s no green priest on Llaro, and we didn’t have the time or the ships to send an expedition.”
Nikko leaped to his feet, sloshing some of the spicy broth from his noodle bowl. “Then I’ll go! I’ll take the Aquarius. Can you help me find Llaro?”
“Hang on a minute—it’s not that simple,” Tasia said. “There are hundreds of Roamer detainees on Llaro, and I’m sure they all want to go home. You’d cause a riot if you tried to just take your parents.”
“At least I can see them!”
“About that . . . there’s another big catch. An EDF contingent is stationed there to watch the detainees. Who knows what’s gone on since the end of the Hansa?”
“They might not even know about the big change,” Robb said.
“Well, we can’t just leave them there!” Denn said. “Imagine what wonderful PR this would be: Instead of Nikko’s Aquarius, we outfit a larger ship and send an expedition to liberate all the kidnapped Roamers on Llaro.” Denn grinned, as if already imagining the applause and rewards he would get for staging such an operation. Tasia wondered if he did indeed have aspirations of becoming the new Speaker, following in his daughter’s footsteps.
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