“Peter!” Estarra said, her voice a quick whisper.
He turned to see two figures standing at their door, unannounced. Captain McCammon and his three fellow royal guards blocked them, but McCammon seemed inclined to let the visitors through. One was Sarein, unsuccessfully trying to cover her furtive anxiety; the other figure was cowled, with a hood that shrouded his face and gloves that covered his hands.
Peter looked at Estarra, who gave a slight nod. “It’s all right, Captain. Let them in,” he said.
Sarein ducked into the chambers as if anxious to get out of view. The stranger with her stepped forward and pulled the hood back to reveal crude flesh-colored makeup smeared across his face to hide the emerald-green skin.
“Nahton!” Estarra sounded delighted, but the man remained grave.
Sarein drew a deep breath. “When I learned that Basil is intentionally keeping the green priest away from you, I knew I had to do something. I thought you needed to hear his urgent message. Nahton refuses to tell it to anyone but you two.”
Peter looked at McCammon, who stood at attention. “That will be all, Captain. Please close the doors.”
The guard captain looked narrowly at Sarein, uneasy to leave the two guests alone with the King and Queen, in light of the recent assassination attempts. Estarra gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s all right, Captain.”
“This is in direct violation of the Chairman’s orders,” he said. After a tense moment he lifted his chin. “However, it is wisest for the King to be included in important matters.” The royal guards gave them the privacy they needed.
Once they were alone, Nahton tilted his head down. “Chairman Wenceslas tried to force me to deliver my message to him instead of you, but I do not serve the Chairman. I do not serve the Hansa. I serve the worldforest.”
Feeling a thrill of possibilities run through him, Peter said, “We could certainly use the services of a green priest right now.”
“What is your news, Nahton?” Estarra said. Sarein looked eager to hear, but also afraid to know.
“I have to tell you what the Ildirans and the hydrogues plan to do. I must explain about the verdani battleships, great trees, some of which will come here to Earth. And what the Roamers are doing, and the wentals.”
And so the court green priest recited everything he knew, informing and warning the royal couple. Peter held Estarra’s hand, absorbing everything. Sarein listened with surprise, but added no comments.
When Nahton finished, the King said, “And I need you to do something for me. Talk to the green priests and send word to Estarra’s parents, so they know we need their help. We need Theroc. Also, I’ve got to get a message to the Roamers, make them understand that the Chairman’s will is not the King’s will. The Queen and I are being held prisoner, while Basil issues orders I abhor—in my name. I do not agree with what has been done to the Roamers. We need their ingenuity. We need all factions of humanity.”
Nahton nodded. “Green priests have been sent to many orphaned Hansa colonies, and those Hansa colonies interact frequently with Roamer traders. When I get back to my treeling, I will spread the word swiftly through telink.”
“Thank you, Nahton,” the Queen said. Then she scowled at her sister. “I suppose you’re now going to run to the Chairman with your report?”
Sarein looked decidedly uncomfortable as the green priest pulled up his hood and turned to go. “Even if I wanted to, I’m not sure he would want to be bothered with seeing me. Ever since I raised the alarm at the banquet, made Pellidor drink the poisoned coffee, Basil is . . . not certain about me.”
“Looks like you ruined things for everybody,” Peter said bitterly.
She gave him a haughty glance. “I would do it again if I had to.”
“We’ve all had to do things we never expected to do,” Estarra said. “Thank you for bringing him here, Sarein. I know how difficult it must have been for you.”
“It’ll be more difficult if we’re seen.” She seemed very anxious to be going. When Nahton had his disguise in place again, the two of them slipped out past the royal guards and into the labyrinth of the Whisper Palace.
Before he closed the door again, Captain McCammon stepped into the royal apartments. He hesitated, as if screwing up his courage and wrestling with his loyalties. He lowered his voice. “King Peter, at least five of my guards have come to me with grave concerns about the way the Chairman has handled the war and how he has treated you. They are not certain his intentions serve the best purposes of the Hansa.”
“That’s an understatement,” Peter said. “And what about you, Captain McCammon?”
“I thought I’ve made myself perfectly clear. I believe the Chairman has a great deal of blood on his hands—the blood of silver berets, of EDF crewmen, and potentially the whole human race. I believe many people died because you were not given vital and timely information. I won’t have that on my conscience again.”
“What are the names of these other guards?” Estarra said.
McCammon fidgeted. “They spoke to me in confidence. I feel obligated to protect their privacy.”
“I believe Queen Estarra means we would prefer for those particular guards to be assigned to watch over us,” Peter said. “There’s no telling what enemies we may have to defend against, and I’d rather have someone I can count on.”
McCammon smiled with relief. “That is something I can most certainly do, Your Majesty.”
That night Peter slept restlessly, knowing that at any time some assassin might come to kill him, to kill both of them. How long would Basil wait to act?
He awoke suddenly, startled to hear OX’s voice so close by their bed. “King Peter, Queen Estarra, there is a visitor who must speak with you.” Peter lurched upright. Outside, the Palace District lights gave off just enough glow for him to see their chambers. OX waited politely, as if embarrassed to be so obtrusive.
“Another visitor?” Estarra’s dark eyes flashed with fear.
As his eyes adjusted, he saw the spectral figure of a pale-skinned man next to the compy. “I apologize for this unorthodox and unscheduled meeting, King Peter. I felt that this circumstance was urgent enough to merit such a risk. You know your days are numbered.”
Deputy Cain had already helped them, but was anyone in the Hansa government to be completely trusted? Peter got out of bed. “The Chairman must have his eyes on you, too. Aren’t you afraid you’ll be seen? How did you get in here?”
The deputy raised a dismissive hand. “It is late at night, and I have enough connections to avoid suspicion for a brief time. Your royal guards were somewhat cooperative.” He found a chair and sat down. “If you had succeeded in killing the Chairman, that would have been a neat solution to our little dilemma. I would have become his replacement, and you and I could have reached an accord. However, that sort of coup is no longer possible. Chairman Wenceslas will never leave himself so vulnerable again, and he will eliminate you both very soon. I wouldn’t suppose you have more than a day or two before he creates some other ‘fanatical assassin lurking in the wings.’”
“So why did you come here?” Peter asked. “To tell us to say our prayers?”
“As I said, removing the Chairman is no longer an option. Therefore, you two have to leave. Preferably in a most unexpected way.” Cain extended several datapacks. “These contain the schematics of the hydrogue derelict. Our research team has achieved many breakthroughs, all of which are documented here. An enormous amount of data. Our researchers do not have the incentive to go beyond the theoretical stage, but you, on the other hand, might consider it an unexpected exit strategy.”
Peter took the datapacks. He realized that any traditional vessel would certainly be intercepted, outrun, and outgunned by the EDF watchdog ships swarming protectively around Earth. But they wouldn’t know what to do against the derelict—if it could be flown.
“And what about you, Deputy Cain? Care to make your exit as well? You know that Basil needs to be stopped for the
good of the Hansa.”
Cain ran a finger over his colorless lips. “What I know and what I can accomplish are two different things. I have made numerous secret leaks to the media, but I dare not do more. My own involvement must remain completely confidential, and I have already done more than I should. If the Chairman were to find out, more than my employment would be terminated.” He drifted back into the shadows. “You can’t rely on me any longer. I gave you information you can use. You two will have to decide what to do. After this, I am done. I hope you succeed in whatever plan you work out.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing more you can do?” Peter asked, but Cain had melted into the dimness. He waited but heard no response. “Mr. Cain?” The deputy was gone.
OX remained with them. “As always, I would be pleased to help you plan and implement strategy, within the strict parameters of my programming.”
Peter glanced at OX, then returned his full attention to his wife. “We have to think beyond ourselves. While I need to save you and our baby, I know this is about more than just us. We have to take action for the good of humanity.”
He could see Estarra’s dark eyes even in the dimness of their quarters. “Peter, Chairman Wenceslas makes a serious error when he considers humanity to be only the members of the Hansa. He has disenfranchised the Roamers, and the Therons, and countless colonists on the worlds he’s already written off. There’s a whole lot more to the human race than those few the Chairman bothers to recognize.”
Peter looked at her. “So, what are you saying?”
She took his hand. “Sarein made the suggestion in the greenhouse yesterday. You are the King, and I am the Queen. If it’s not safe for us to rule on Earth, then we have to go somewhere else. Theroc would take us in. It’s perfect. And . . .” She lowered her voice. “I would very much like to go home.”
“We can’t do anything for humanity unless we’re alive,” he agreed, holding the datapacks Cain had given them. “But getting away from the Whisper Palace isn’t good enough to accomplish what we need. If the King and Queen disappear, Basil will cover it up and simply install Daniel as King.”
“And humanity will keep sliding over the brink.”
Peter’s gaze hardened. “We don’t dare leave Basil with any options. When we go, we have to take Daniel out of the picture, too.”
113
MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H
Although Jora’h had done exactly as the hydrogues commanded—sending Adar Zan’nh with all his Solar Navy ships to Earth—sixty diamond warglobes returned to Ildira. Obviously the deep-core aliens doubted his resolve.
They intend to destroy us, no matter what. Jora’h could see that now.
More than a thousand Ildiran warliners gathered in orbit, ready to protect the Mage-Imperator. Though far outgunned by the anxious Solar Navy defenders, the hydrogue ships hurtled down through the sky, demonstrating the arrogance of the enemy: They considered a mere sixty warglobes to be a sufficient deterrent.
Even so, those diamond spheres were more than enough to destroy the Prism Palace, kill the Mage-Imperator, and obliterate Mijistra—if they chose to. If even a hundred Solar Navy ships careened down to smash into them, the explosions and the wreckage would cause a breathtaking amount of damage to the city. And the hydrogues could always call for more of their diamond ships.
Tal O’nh’s current desperate evacuation of Hyrillka had drawn away many of the largest ships in the Solar Navy, recruiting Tal Ala’nh’s entire cohort. Now refugee-laden ships were streaming back to Ildira, bearing hundreds of thousands of displaced Hyrillkans. But this was no longer a safe place, not for any of them.
As soon as the threatening warglobes appeared, Jora’h ordered Nira and Kolker into hiding. Knowing how the hydrogues hated the verdani, he could never let them become aware that green priests were inside the Prism Palace.
Osira’h stayed by his side, smiling mysteriously up at her father. “My mind is open. I feel the warglobes overhead. The hydrogues are angry . . . but they are always angry. They are suspicious. They do not understand Ildirans.”
“They have not tried to understand us. That is their mistake, and their weakness.” Looking at her, he tried to reinforce his confidence. “You will not let them learn our secret?”
“I will not.” Her voice carried not even the hint of a doubt.
Fresh from the gathered defensive cohorts above, Tal Lorie’nh waited in the skysphere reception hall as an adviser. “I hope you are right, Liege.” An older officer with an adequate if undistinguished career, Lorie’nh was a tall, thin man who rarely took chances, never surpassed expectations. Jora’h knew, however, that he would serve in any capacity the Mage-Imperator requested.
Jora’h had already made up his mind, though he believed it would cost his race dearly. Through the rush of evacuees from Hyrillka, as well as reports from other Solar Navy ships, he knew that the hydrogues were engaged against the faeros on numerous fronts. Now that Nira had regained her telink connection to the worldforest, she shared with Jora’h what she had learned about the widespread efforts being planned simultaneously across the Spiral Arm. How much more could the deep-core aliens endure? The wentals and the verdani battleships might be enough to turn the tide. Did they really want to fight the Solar Navy at the same time?
Perhaps we will survive this after all. If we are strong . . . and if we are lucky. He would live or die by the consequences of his decision. He knew precisely what he needed to say. This was his realm.
When the hydrogue emissary finally came to the Prism Palace, Jora’h stood to meet him. He placed his hand on Osira’h’s shoulder as the small pressurized chamber came to a stop in front of the dais. Tal Lorie’nh looked alarmed and anxious. He had never seen a hydrogue so close before, had never even faced them in direct battle.
Jora’h watched the humanoid shape appear behind the transparent wall. The clock was ticking, the Mage-Imperator knew. With a firm voice, he let his displeasure flow. “Why do you come here? I already dispatched my Solar Navy ships to Earth, as you demanded. Can you not see that I have cooperated?”
The emissary’s voice was flat. “We are here to guarantee that you do as you promised, or to punish you if you fail.”
Jora’h did not allow his expression to change, but he felt a cold shaft of ice pierce his chest. “That is not necessary.”
“Nevertheless, we intend to stay here until the battle at Earth is satisfactorily completed. We will know immediately if you betray us.”
Jora’h showed no fear. Ildirans believed they were born as part of a grand cosmic story, and they considered the Saga of Seven Suns to be a true map that delineated the reality of past and present. But his father had shown him that much of the information was distorted, even false. What mattered most was what he actually did. Jora’h would not be described as a coward and a betrayer in the Saga . . . if anyone survived to write new stanzas.
Though he felt powerless, Jora’h did not back down. He clenched his hands, reaching a difficult decision. “You do not trust us? Very well. To further demonstrate my cooperation, I will send even more Solar Navy ships to Earth. Tal Lorie’nh! As soon as the hydrogue emissary leaves, take your entire cohort to Earth as well. Adar Zan’nh may require assistance.”
The thin military officer blinked, looked confused, then finally found the right words. “As you say, Liege. As soon as the emissary departs.”
Jora’h turned back to the pressurized sphere. “I have now provided more than a thousand Solar Navy warliners—I expect that will be sufficient to defeat whatever remains of the Earth Defense Forces. Now are you satisfied?”
“We are still watching. Closely.” The thunderstorm tension dissipated in the air, yet Jora’h did not relax. He wasn’t sure if his bluster had convinced the emissary, but the hydrogue had nothing further to say. Levitating from the tiled floor, the small sphere drifted back down the Palace corridors, escorted by soldier kithmen who could not have fought against it even if they’d wanted to.
When the chamber was empty again, both Osira’h and Tal Lorie’nh stared at him as if he had gone as mad as Rusa’h. Lorie’nh blurted, “Liege, if I take my cohort away, Ildira will be dramatically weakened! The hydrogues are looming over our heads.”
“I do not trust what the hydrogues will do at Earth,” Jora’h said, “and we do not dare lose there. We must be absolutely certain to crush the enemy. Travel with all the speed you can possibly manage, or you will arrive too late.” The Mage-Imperator drew another deep breath, aware of the death sentence he was about to pronounce. “There is no time for Sullivan Gold and his engineers to work on your ships, Lorie’nh. I am sorry.”
The tal remained stiff and formal. “My crew and I understand what we may have to do.”
Jora’h nodded. “We will not lack for defenses here, Lorie’nh. I will keep two cohorts to defend the Prism Palace, and many loaded warliners are returning from Hyrillka every day filled with evacuees.” He lowered his voice and looked at his daughter. “The question is, can we wound the hydrogues enough to make them leave us alone?”
Osira’h gave her father an oddly distant but reassuring smile. “Just wait. Do not give up.”
“What is it you know? What are you thinking?”
She smiled enigmatically. “I have the powers that centuries of breeding experiments sought to create, and I’ve already established a link. I am a bridge with the hydrogues, and my mother has given me an idea. Maybe I can do more than you or the hydrogues expect.”
114
ANTON COLICOS
Hydrogues and faeros continued to battle in Hyrillka’s primary sun. Solar flares rippled outward, ionic bursts disrupted transmissions, and weather patterns changed significantly. Each change produced an additional hindrance to the evacuation operations, but Tal O’nh bulldozed through them with all the efficiency he had shown when organizing the initial relief efforts.
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