Blood of the Cosmos (58 page)

Then a ripple of unseen energy emanated from the hex cylinder, a shock wave that scrambled the
Kutuzov
's command systems and life support. The bridge went completely dark until the backup systems kicked on.

The Shana Rei craft began to move, all four of them spreading out. The damaged one shrank in, as if consolidating its remaining material, but the other hexagons sent out waves of disruptive entropy. A Solar Navy warliner reeled off course, its systems failing, its running lights falling dark.

General Keah intended to take advantage of every last second. “Time for a few sun bombs. Lieutenant Kalfas, make sure you record all this. Hell, I will personally give Dr. Krieger a bonus for every Shana Rei hex ship we destroy, even if these are the old designs.”

The Juggernaut launched three crackling sun bombs—spheres of knotted, pinwheeling plasma. The core reactions built up, energy intensifying.

Not to be outdone, four Ildiran warliners also launched sun bombs. Keah watched the fiery streaks plunge in just like the meteor shower she and Deputy Eldred Cain had observed from the deck of his home on Earth.

General Keah much preferred this particular show.

“Boom,” she whispered.

The
Kutuzov
's sun bombs ignited against the black vessels like a trio of supernovas. Just as the incandescent nuclear eruptions blotted out the main screen, she caught a last glimpse of four other novas striking different parts of the Shana Rei cylinders. With the sensors flash-blinded, everyone on the Juggernaut's bridge held their breath. All comm signals were disrupted by the backwash of the sun-bomb explosions. The screens remained washed out, fuzzed with static.

“Mr. Saliba, get me sensors at the soonest possible nanosecond. Let's see how much damage we caused.”

“Working, General. Sensor suites were already reeling from that entropy barrage and now they're oversaturated. I should have them back online momentarily.”

Keah knotted her hands into fists, waiting, staring at the screen and
willing
it to clear. Finally, she saw the distorted image of the shadow cloud, and then an angular edge. The hex ships again—noticeably damaged. One of the hexagons was diminished by half, as if the sun bombs had devoured the dark material. Another cylinder was tilted at an odd angle, as if knocked out of alignment from the cluster of allied hex ships.

Another wave of dark entropy rippled out from the shadow cloud in a broad scattershot, perhaps a knee-jerk defensive reaction that did not target any particular ship. Even so, the
Kutuzov
's main screen stuttered, went black, then images resolved out of the static. When the screen sharpened again, she spotted a flurry of motion near the tilted black hexagon—a wave of predatory black ships emerging from the core of darkness.

“Here come the bugbots, late to the party,” said Keah. “This is about to get even more interesting.”

 

CHAPTER

98

PRINCE REYN

After the first several days in the sanctuary domes on Kuivahr, Prince Reynald began to experience a strange emotion—something he identified as
hope
. Osira'h was dogged in her belief that if human medical researchers couldn't cure him, then surely Ildiran doctors could. And she had complete faith in her sister.

Tamo'l and her medical team experimented—on him—with the rare kelp extracts provided by the Kellum distillery. Reyn braced himself and did what he needed to do. He considered how much his parents had invested in chasing any desperate chance for a treatment, and he thought of the promises he had made to Arita. He had to do his part, even if it made him feel like a lab rat.

Osira'h was beside him, as she always was, while he prepared to endure another round of tests. Reyn knew this wasn't going to be pleasant, but he would not complain. He would
hope
.

Tamo'l tried any variants she thought might be effective. The kelp strains were rare, mutations appearing as the Kuivahr tides shifted and changed, and even if they did find a strain that offered remarkable relief for his worsening condition, the particular strain might never occur naturally again.

When he suffered from side effects of the test treatments, Osira'h seemed to experience the pain as much as Reyn did. When he saw the tears shimmering in her eyes, he felt sorry for her, wanted to endure the trials alone—but she would hear none of that. Reyn was envious when he saw the sheer
fight
in her expression. She set the bar high for him, and Reyn met it—for her.

Today, Tamo'l came to him with several different vials, new concoctions that she had worked up. “We learned a great deal from your adverse reactions last time. I am sorry you had to endure such discomfort, but this formulation should be better. I can't promise that, but I believe so.”

During the last two tests, a fiery rash had raged across his skin, leaving patterns of tiny blisters that made him itch ferociously and a fever that caused a pounding headache. It wasn't a cure—it wasn't even a viable treatment—but it was a
clue
, and it gave Tamo'l ideas on a new formulation to try.

And Reyn would submit to the trials, endure the side effects—and he would hope, as Osira'h insisted.

Tamo'l held out three vials for him to see. “Different choices, Reynald. Different formulations from the most effective strains, and I will be honest—I have no idea which variant might be better or worse. You choose.”

He thought again of the rash, the fever, the headaches. Osira'h squeezed his shoulder, encouraging him. He thought about deferring the choice to her, but he stopped himself. If the formulation caused another severe reaction, he didn't want Osira'h to blame herself.

“At least now I have a choice, thanks to you, Tamo'l.” Reyn pointed to the middle vial.

She gave a brisk nod and injected him with the sample. Reyn steeled himself for whatever might come. He had a feeling it would be a rough night.

Before he could feel sorry for himself, though, Shawn Fennis wheeled in one of the misbreeds who was moist and shivering on top of a gurney. He recognized the one called Pol'ux.

Tamo'l had made a point of introducing each of the misbreeds by name when he arrived here. After his initial shock at seeing the mutated misbreeds, Reyn had realized that they were just as curious about
him
. Looking at their misshapen bodies, the organs that didn't function properly, the mismatched limbs, the asymmetric facial features, he saw how these misbreeds clung to life and fought for every day. They had endured their infirmities for more than twenty years, and yet they still dreamed of accomplishing something with their lives. They were
optimistic
—and that was a lesson for Reyn.

Pol'ux was bedridden much of the time, and now he hissed in pain when Fennis bumped the gurney. The misbreed's gray-tan skin was a mass of boils, many as large as Reyn's hand. His face, his shoulders, his arms, all looked as if they might burst; some of the flesh membrane had already split, oozing fluids.

Despite his obvious agony, Pol'ux lifted his head. “Prince Reynald … sorry to disturb you. I am honored.”

Tamo'l attached monitors to Reyn's skin, but he glanced over at the misbreed. “You should take care of him.”

Pol'ux said, “Let her finish—I have done this many times before.”

Tamo'l explained, “Pol'ux suffers extreme allergic reactions to virtually all of the foods he can digest. He has to eat, but eating does this to him. It is something he has endured all his life.”

Pol'ux shifted on his gurney. “Tamo'l drains my blisters, and then I have mobility again for a day or so. I enjoy the time I have—it could be worse.”

While Tamo'l finished with Prince Reyn, Shawn Fennis set about draining the misbreed's largest blisters, siphoning off the oozing fluid and relieving the pressure on his skin.

Pol'ux lay back and endured it; his blistered lips even smiled. “Tamo'l will find a cure for you, Prince Reynald. I know she will. No one is more dedicated to helping people than she is.”

Reyn felt a weight on his heart as he saw how stoic the misbreed remained even in the face of such horrific suffering. He lay back without complaint throughout the draining of his pustules.

Feeling great admiration, Reyn told Tamo'l he would accept as many tests as she needed to do.

 

CHAPTER

99

ZOE ALAKIS

Years ago, Zoe had withdrawn from human society and barricaded herself behind protective walls on Pergamus. For the first half of her life, she had been exposed to countless dangers, infections, and insidious microorganisms; once sheltered in her sterile dome, though, she had never intended to emerge.

But when Tom Rom was dying from the Onthos plague, Zoe had not been able to tolerate being apart from him. He had contracted the disease while on a mission
for her
, and she could not let him die alone. In that extreme crisis, Zoe had faced her fear and left the sterile dome for the first time in years. Though terrified with every breath she inhaled, every surface she touched, she had survived that ordeal. And it had been worth the risk just to clasp Tom Rom's hand when he recovered.

Afterward, she retreated to her dome, reduced to cold shudders, vowing she would never leave that safe womb again.

But, now she had to, or risk losing it all. Pergamus was exposed, and she was going on the offensive. Zoe would set the rules and define her future relationship with the King and Queen. If she waited for the Confederation to impose terms, then she would lose.

Tom Rom was not pleased with her decision, but he acceded to it. Though she would travel to Theroc, he would not allow her to take unnecessary risks. She wore an armor-reinforced, biochem-filtered, and triply sterilized containment suit that would protect her every moment she was away from Pergamus. She would face King Peter and Queen Estarra in person, but only through the layers of her suit.

They left the secure facility under heavy mercenary guard; her research teams worked under full lockdown with automated sterilization systems engaged. If her gambit was successful, they would be able to keep working without interruption; if not, they were prepared to evacuate and vaporize their research behind them.

As Tom Rom flew them toward Theroc, she was reminded of their early years after leaving Vaconda, a young orphan and an unwavering protector.

When they arrived at the Confederation's capital, he guided them through commercial and diplomatic traffic, passing the enormous verdani battleships that hung in orbit as thorny guardians. Zoe grew impatient to take care of this matter. She also wanted to pore over all the Onthos data she had been missing for so long. For that she had to face the King and Queen. Immediately.

She used the comm herself. “My name is Zoe Alakis in charge of the Pergamus facility, here at the request of King Peter and Queen Estarra. Their representative, Rlinda Kett, requested our records and research relating to the medical condition of Prince Reynald.” She felt as if she were tearing the words from her throat. “I have brought all relevant data with me and will discuss terms—but only in person.”

*   *   *

The worldforest festered with life: plants, fungi, insects. The air was a stew of pollen, dust, gnats, and countless microscopic threats. She clung to the protection of her isolation suit, shocked that Tom Rom didn't even seem bothered by the viral and bacterial threats all around him.

Mostly naked green priests bounded across the boughs and scaled the worldtree trunks, obliviously exposing themselves to countless hazards. She stared through her faceplate, astonished at how foolish they were—and some of them stared back, amused by the bulky isolation suit that she wore as if she worked at a radioactive waste depot.

Entering the fungus-reef governmental structure, Tom Rom accompanied Zoe as her bodyguard. He was unarmed, but he would have faced an army to protect her if necessary. Knowing he was there gave her the strength she needed, and she did not flinch when she presented herself to the King and Queen.

Zoe addressed them through her suit comm. “Pergamus is engaged in numerous medical research projects, and your representative requested information about your son's disease.”

Queen Estarra straightened. “Yes, we put out the call for help months ago, and countless researchers are studying the problem. If Pergamus has the key to a possible treatment, we welcome any information you can share with us. Maybe you have the missing piece our other researchers need to help Prince Reynald.”

“Maybe I do,” Zoe said.

Beside her, Tom Rom remained like a statue.

The King made an obvious effort to keep his voice congenial rather than challenging. “Why do you wear a protective environment suit? Do you suffer from an immune deficiency?”

Zoe's voice remained hard. “I could just as well ask why you allow yourself to be exposed to so many potential diseases … diseases such as the one your son contracted.”

Estarra said, “We didn't know your facility existed until recently. Who funds your research?”

“I fund it. Personally and privately, and I conduct whatever work interests me. Pergamus is an unaligned, independent, and uninhabitable planet. We are not part of the Confederation. You have no jurisdiction over us, and yet your representative made veiled threats against us.” She waited to see how they would respond.

The Queen said, “If you share all your research relevant to the Prince's affliction, we will be more grateful than we can express. You can understand our concern for our son.”

“We are also concerned about possibly dangerous research,” Peter added. “We need to ensure the safety of Confederation citizens.”

“I conduct medical research under my own authority. My studies are performed by teams of well-respected scientists, under the most rigorous quarantine protocols and sterilization procedures, all of which exceed the Confederation's highest standards.”