Of Fire and Night

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “If the hydrogues are defeated, there’s no need to duplicate the weapons,” Basil pointed out. “Apparently, they will not be effective against any other target.”

  “And those huge treeships from Theroc,” Sarein said in a strangely embittered voice. “It’s quite a surprise my people would go to such lengths to help Earth, after we did so little to aid them after the hydrogues attacked.”

  “Again, the same could be said about the Roamers.” Cain seemed to be enjoying this.

  Basil glared at his deputy and at Sarein. “This is not the time to rehash petty feuds and differences.” He sat at his desk, put his hands in front of him, and straightened his back. “We need to move swiftly. After this, whole populations will go into shock. There’ll be chaos in the streets, anarchy. We must not allow that. We’ll have to impose a severe crackdown to maintain control. Getting the Hansa back up to full strength will require a tremendous amount of work.”

  Cain cleared his throat. “We’ve already established priorities and the distribution of responsibilities based on our last meeting. Now we’re ready to move on to the next step.”

  Basil tried to drive back his persistent headache. “In the coming weeks, we will complete detailed damage assessments and strength projections—but they must be kept entirely confidential.” He looked meaningfully at Lanyan, then at Deputy Cain. “Under no circumstances will the general population be allowed to know how badly we’ve been hurt.”

  When they nodded, Basil was glad to see full cooperation for a change. If everyone he relied on had supported him all along, the Chairman could have led them safely through this mess from the beginning. “We’ll pull together the resources from our colonies. Across the Hansa, we need a full-scale effort to construct new battleships, encourage trade, strengthen bonds among the planets, and make the Hansa blossom again. And the effort will need to be far superior to what the human race has managed in recent years.”

  They were fine words, but in his heart Basil realized that such an effort would also mean cripplingly high taxes and very lean years. And now Peter, Estarra, and Daniel had vanished. He narrowed his gray eyes, focusing on Sarein. “Are you sure you have no idea where your sister or the King have gone? It’s been days! We need a strong spokesman to prepare the people, to get back in touch with our orphaned colonies.” He thought he might have to haul out his unexpected alternative after all.

  “I . . . I don’t know where they are, Basil. I haven’t spoken to Estarra since just after Daniel’s banquet, when you made me show her the greenhouse you destroyed.” She was clearly trying to hide her distaste. “As you well know, she was under tight guard—for her protection.”

  Basil scowled. Was that sarcasm? Among the many unbelievable things that had happened during the attack, the hydrogue derelict had disappeared. He had assigned Deputy Cain the task of investigating the matter thoroughly, but with so much going on in the past several days, it wasn’t Cain’s highest priority.

  A secretary appeared at the door of the penthouse office. “A green priest to see you, Mr. Chairman.”

  “Send him in. Maybe he has news.” Basil took a seat at his desk. “It’s about time he decided to report to me.”

  Nahton walked proudly into the chamber, tall, thin, and determined. The high windows looked out into the bright morning. The green priest stared into the golden sunlight for a moment, then turned to face the Chairman.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “As a courtesy, Chairman Wenceslas, I have been asked to bring you a message from King Peter and Queen Estarra.”

  Basil shot to his feet. “Where are they? I demand that they return to the Whisper Palace immediately.”

  “The King and Queen have relocated their throne to Theroc. From there, they will establish a human confederation and preside over a new seat of government.”

  Basil could only bark a short, dry laugh. “That’s ridiculous! And it distracts us at a time when we must all pull together.”

  “We are pulling together, Mr. Chairman. We’re just doing it without you.” Nahton’s voice was emotionless, a delivery system for a formal proclamation. “The Therons have endorsed this new confederation and have agreed to join it. The green priests who were dispersed to former Hansa colonies have also made the announcement to their settlers. Representatives are already being chosen.”

  “What do you mean, former Hansa colonies? They have never—”

  Nahton interrupted him. “Sixty-three orphaned worlds have torn up the Hansa Charter and agreed to join the confederation.”

  “That’s a declaration of war!” Lanyan shouted.

  “It is an appropriate and completely legal response. Since the beginning of the hydrogue conflict, the Terran Hanseatic League has cut them off from vital materials, denied them food and medical supplies. You withdrew the protection of the Earth Defense Forces. In other words, Mr. Chairman, the Hansa failed to meet its obligations and thereby voided the Charter. For their own survival, most colonies now feel this is the best prospect.”

  “They are Hansa colonies!” Basil insisted.

  “Former Hansa colonies, Mr. Chairman. Representatives from fifteen Roamer clans have also signed on. We are confident the Speaker will agree that such a confederation is in the best interests of humanity. While the Roamers still refuse to trade with the Hansa, to show their good faith they have announced that they will supply ekti to any orphaned colony that joins the new government.”

  General Lanyan could make no comprehensible sounds. Only Deputy Cain seemed unruffled.

  The Chairman glared into Nahton’s implacable green face. “Go get your treeling right now and send a message to King Peter. Tell him that I command him to return to Earth without delay!”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Our telink communications services are no longer available to the Chairman or any Hansa representative.”

  “You can’t do that.” Basil’s mind was ready to burst. His skin felt as if it were on fire. “Send the message! You’re supposed to be neutral. You’re a green priest. You’re—”

  “I follow the instructions of King Peter and Queen Estarra, as do all green priests. We cannot be commanded. Neither you, nor any member of the Earth Defense Forces, nor any person from the Hansa government, will be able to send a message via telink until further notice.”

  For a moment Basil thought about torturing the priest, even executing him if he didn’t follow instructions. Sarein sat stunned, shaking her head. “He’s right, Basil. No one can force a green priest to send a telink message.”

  Lanyan fumed. “But by the time we can send our own ships to enforce the Charter, this will be all sewn up!”

  “That has already occurred.” Nahton smiled coolly. “When Chairman Wenceslas resigns and the remnants of the Terran Hanseatic League are dissolved, the people of Earth will also be welcome to join us. All members of the new confederation must be loyal to the King.”

  Basil wanted to spit the name. “The King? Peter was never a real King!”

  Sitting motionless, Sarein blinked and looked at the seething and helpless Chairman. “Maybe he was, Basil. More than you knew.”

  144

  DESIGNATE DARO’H

  The last of the scorched buildings in the Dobro colony had been knocked down, the charred debris cleared away. The wildfires that ravaged the rolling landscape had burned out, leaving the surrounding hills blackened. Soon, the rains would come, and a fresh carpet of green would spring forth, a sign of rejuvenation just like the new buildings being erected in the Ildiran settlement.

  The terrible revolt had not done fatal injury to Dobro. All wounds heal, even if some of them leave scars, Daro’h thought. He walked down the street, still smelling soot and blood in the air. The sour, scratchy odors would not go away for a long time.

  As he’d promised, Daro’h offered the humans what they needed to rebuild their camp, but after many discussions, the survivors had decided to move elsewhere, perhaps down to the fertile southern continent. Benn Stoner
and his followers wanted to set up their homesteads far from their former Ildiran captors. Later—maybe after a few years or a few generations—they might find sufficient forgiveness in their hearts to come back and join the others in the way the original Burton colonists had meant to live among the Ildirans.

  For himself, Daro’h would soon go back to the Prism Palace. He was excited to take up his new duties as Prime Designate. Another person would serve in his role here. Unlike some of his brothers, Daro’h had no noble-born sons yet. Given the circumstances, Udru’h might even take back his former position, though Daro’h doubted the humans would ever allow it.

  During his walk, he stopped in front of the former Designate’s residence. Two guards were stationed outside the door, technically holding the man prisoner. That evening, the humans and Ildirans were scheduled to meet. Daro’h didn’t know whether to call it a debate or a trial. Udru’h would speak in his own defense, the humans would air their grievances, and Daro’h would implement whatever terms they imposed. It was what the Mage-Imperator had decreed.

  Udru’h, still looking bruised and battered, his skin discolored, stepped past the guards to Daro’h. “Tonight they decide my fate, and I will be done with this waiting. Perhaps the people will feel shame. Will they be afraid to impose a harsh retribution?” Strange ghosts seemed to be haunting him behind his eyes; memories of what he had done were not so easy to justify when those memories came from Nira’s point of view. It wasn’t clear to Daro’h if the former Designate wanted the people to forgive him anymore.

  Daro’h shuddered. “You are my mentor. I was the new Designate. Had this happened a few years later, it would be me instead of you.”

  Udru’h shrugged. “We will see if my good intentions outweigh bad memories. Crimes must be punished, one way or another. I know that now.”

  Unexpectedly, Daro’h felt a sudden and unusual heat down his spine and in his mind. The air became crackling hot. The smell of smoke and scorched bones intensified around him. The normally stoic guards looked into the sky, alarmed.

  A trio of shimmering ellipsoids encased in flame descended like comets toward the scarred settlement.

  “Faeros,” Udru’h said. “What are they doing here?”

  Daro’h had never seen the flaming shapes up close before. He couldn’t tell if they were ships or living elemental creatures. Many thousands of the faeros had been extinguished in their battles with the hydrogues. But why would they come to Dobro? What did they want?

  The pulsing faeros drew closer, blazed brighter. Daro’h feared he might go blind if he stared, but he could not tear his eyes away. The fireballs loomed directly overhead, pausing as if they had come to the former Designate’s residence on purpose. Udru’h flinched, as if he heard something loud inside his head.

  The thism within Daro’h grew hot, like overheated wires burning through his nerves and his thoughts. He felt the strong and silky soul-threads being pulled and strained, knotted, melted. . . .

  A voice boomed through his mind, a roaring, skull-splitting shout that wasn’t even directed at him. “Udru’h, you betrayed me. Because of you, I lost everything. I failed.”

  The former Designate reeled, as if his head might explode. The hammering molten voice continued its damning speech. “But I am stronger than ever now. I no longer see the Lightsource—I am the Lightsource.”

  In shock, Daro’h recognized the angry voice of the mad Designate. At the end of his defeated rebellion, Rusa’h had flown his ship into Hyrillka’s sun. Now he was alive and intact . . . and with the faeros?

  Unable to tear himself away, Udru’h shook his head against the thoughts, covered his eyes and ears, but the booming continued to rip through the thism. “Many faeros have perished. Now you will spark the creation of new faeros. Let your treachery consume you.”

  Daro’h drew back in horror as Udru’h’s face began to glow as if his very bones had grown incandescent. The former Designate opened his mouth to scream, and smoke gushed out. His flesh turned white-hot. Suddenly Udru’h burst into flames. Fire licked out of his eyes, his mouth, his ears, and finally cracked out of the bones in his fingers.

  Daro’h watched, unable to run, unable to scream.

  Udru’h was engulfed by a single flare that incinerated every speck of his physical being. The new curl of fire, rolling and braided, shot up like a spark into the nearest pulsating faeros fireball.

  Nothing was left of the former Designate but a black mark on the ground, a smear of residue. Glassy footprints marked where the heat of his body had melted the dirt. Daro’h looked up, feeling his skin singe.

  Six more faeros fireballs descended to join the others over Dobro.

  145

  ORLI COVITZ

  It was Orli’s turn to bring a delivery of homemade food to the EDF barracks near the Klikiss transportal wall. There was nothing wrong with being good neighbors to the fifteen soldiers still assigned to Llaro.

  The Roamer detainees, Crenna colonists, and original settlers had decided to think of the stranded soldiers as “protectors” instead of prison guards or babysitters. With the uproar and turmoil out in the Hansa, even the Roamer detainees were resigned to staying here for the time being. The EDF troops were not at liberty to leave either. They were all cut off, while the rest of the Spiral Arm went to hell.

  From messengers passing through the transportal, the Llaro colonists had heard about how Soldier compies had seized much of the EDF fleet. Orli lived in fear that the robot-controlled battleships might attack here, just as they had wiped out Corribus. And no one had any explanation for why the eerie faeros ships had come here searching, destroying one of the patrol Remoras in the process. She did not feel particularly safe.

  If anything bad happened now, Llaro had no defenses at all—except for those fifteen soldiers. So the colonists took turns making meals for the troops, sharing some of their fresh produce from the fields. Best to keep their options open. It was a good thing for everybody to get along, she thought.

  Orli and Mr. Steinman trudged uphill to the barracks, carrying the day’s baskets. “My legs are getting too stiff to make this walk every single day,” the older man said.

  Orli was used to Mr. Steinman’s complaints. “You don’t make it every single day. And if you were all alone on a planet, like you wanted to be, you’d have a lot more work to do just to keep yourself alive. The house you’re living in now is a thousand times better than the rickety shack the two of us built together.”

  “I was proud of that shack.”

  “So was I.” Orli grinned. The whole settlement seemed to have adopted her. She had rooms of her own in one of the large multifamily structures, a place where she slept and had private time to play her music synthesizer strips. Since the colonists liked to listen to her melodies, she often sat in the communal areas at night and played and played.

  Seeing the two approach, the EDF soldiers waved a greeting. Orli and Mr. Steinman were bright and cheery as they handed over the meals. The lonely troops plowed through the baskets, making appreciative sounds as they saw fresh breads and vegetables.

  “We’re gonna have to go back to basic training,” said one of the soldiers. “I never ate this well in the EDF! I’m bound to gain so much weight that I won’t fit in my uniform anymore.”

  “Just find a colonist wife,” his comrade chided him. “Maybe she can let out some of the seams.”

  “These colonist women? She’d make me do it myself.”

  “And so you should,” Orli said. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be self-sufficient.”

  The soldier guffawed. “Would you listen to this girl?”

  Behind them, a buzzing sound crackled through the air like static electricity. The guards snapped to their feet as the transportal wall thrummed. “Something’s coming through!”

  “Nothing’s scheduled that I know of—hey, maybe it’s our replacements.”

  “Keep dreaming.”

  Other EDF soldiers rushed out of the barracks, eager for an
y change in the monotony. Anybody who came through the transportal wall might be bringing good news, or at least fresh supplies.

  The trapezoidal sheet of stone grew murky, and two figures stepped through. It was not anybody they knew. The EDF soldiers grabbed their weapons and looked uncertainly at each other. “Who are you? Identify yourselves!”

  Orli saw an older woman with weathered features, tattered clothes, and bedraggled hair. Her face had a distant, haunted look. Beside her walked a silvery compy, a Friendly model with bright golden eye sensors. The little compy spoke, as if happy to make introductions. “This is Margaret Colicos, and I am DD.” Orli thought the woman’s name sounded familiar.

  Weirdly disoriented and unearthly, Margaret focused her eyes, spotted Orli and Mr. Steinman, then the EDF soldiers. “It has been so long since I’ve seen other humans.”

  “What happened to you, ma’am?” Orli said. “Where did you come from?”

  The transportal wall flickered again, and more shapes appeared behind her.

  “I’m sorry. I did not want to do this.” Margaret’s voice was hollow and devastated. “Everything will change now . . . everything.”

  Behind her dozens of multilegged creatures emerged from the trapezoidal wall, swarming through. The tall beetlelike shapes held sharp and sophisticated-looking weapons. Their leathery exoskeletons were black and segmented. Their smooth eyes burned with a strange intelligence. Behind the first ranks came another twenty creatures, then another rank, and another.

  The EDF soldiers scrambled backward, shouting to each other. Panicked, they drew their weapons, fell back, and took aim.

  “Don’t shoot!” one of the men cried. “We’re outnumbered a hundred to one!”

  Mr. Steinman held on to Orli’s arm as if she might be able to protect him.