Scattered Suns (12 page)

Chapter 20—ANTON COLICOS

Though he was a scholar who had studied both human and Ildiran legends, Anton knew that myths and stories were not reality, and people did not automatically become heroes in times of crisis.

But looking at the distraught group of Maratha survivors trudging across the bleak landscape, he saw that his confidence might be the only thing keeping the few remaining Ildirans alive in the darkness of an empty planet.

The members of the skeleton crew had been stranded here after sabotage destroyed the power generators in the domed city of Maratha Prime. Then more sabotage had wrecked two of the three shuttles as the refugees tried to fly to safety. Now only eight of them remained.

The small party trekked across the planet’s cold nightside. The Maratha Designate, his bureaucrat assistant, and the lens kithman stumbled together in grim silence. Rememberer Vao’sh walked with the digger Vik’k and two agricultural kithmen. Anton took the lead beside engineer Nur’of.

“Right this way,” Anton said brightly through the protective suitfilm. He pointed at the distant horizon. “Straight on until morning.”

“We cannot cross a continent in only a few days,” the bureaucrat Bhali’v grumbled.

“We covered a lot of distance before our ships went down, so we aren’t necessarily far off. And we’ve got enough supplies.”

“Rememberer Anton is right. Our suitfilms will work for several days, even without drastic conservation measures,” Nur’of admitted. “It is possible that we may make it.”

Anton set a brisk pace as they plodded along. He still found it amusing to think of himself as a
leader
!

The Ildirans seemed on the verge of panic, wanting to bolt forward until they either reached the dawn or dropped from exhaustion. Anton did his best to keep them all focused and under control.

From above, the barren plains of Maratha had appeared featureless, but here on the ground, tumbled rocks and lumpy frost heaves made the journey difficult. More than once, he nearly twisted his ankle—and that would not have been a good thing at all. Though he too wanted to hurry toward the comforting glow of daylight, Anton exercised caution.

The old historian Vao’sh said in a potent voice, “If it grows too terrible, pause and turn your face to the sky. Yes, the night is black and the universe is deep, but each one of those bright stars is itself a blazing sun. Just narrow your gaze and focus on the sparkle, then concentrate on all the illumination pouring into the universe. Snatch just one droplet of it, and that should be sufficient to keep you strong.”

“Like a thread of the Lightsource,” said the lens kithman Ilure’l. “If we can cling to it, we will be saved.”

The refugees moved onward, their spirits buoyed for a little while before they sank into fear and gloom again. To distract them, Vao’sh began to tell heartwarming stories from the
Saga of Seven Suns
. But when the group stopped to rest, Designate Avi’h talked in a trembling voice about the awful Shana Rei, the creatures of darkness. Most of the panicked survivors blamed the Shana Rei for sabotaging the generators and destroying their escape shuttles.

Rememberer Vao’sh couched his reminiscences as heroic stories set in the thousand-year-long war against the ferocious shadow race that stole both light and souls. Eventually Ildiran heroes had vanquished the creatures that lived in the depths of black nebulas. Vao’sh’s tales should have been uplifting, but the tattered group fixated on fear of the Shana Rei.

“Probably not a good idea to talk about that, Vao’sh,” Anton advised quietly. “We do not need to create imaginary enemies.”

The human scholar knew that someone had intentionally shut down the generators in Maratha Prime. Someone had sabotaged the power assemblies and battery-storage areas, plunging the whole city into darkness. Though the Ildirans didn’t want to admit it, Anton speculated that the culprits might have been the Klikiss robots. There was no evidence against them, and the black robots had always seemed cooperative...but there simply weren’t any other suspects, unless he decided to believe in monsters under the bed!

He couldn’t shake the feeling that they might be walking right into the enemy camp. Yet what other choice did they have but to go seek sanctuary, now that they were stranded out here in the dark?

They walked on in silence. The lifeless quiet around them was disrupted by strange noises that a frightened child might have heard as bumps in the night.

The sudden severe cooling following months of hot daylight caused Maratha to throb as the landscape cooled off into the long night. Nearby, hot rivers sliced narrow canyons. In the abrupt thermal gradient, steam roared upward and then froze in the shatteringly cold air to fall as glittering frost.

As the group entered a thermally active area, steam vents broke through the ground, spewing geysers. In the pools of light from their handheld blazers, Anton could see smears of colorful lichens that thrived in the crevices and on mineral-rich surfaces of the upthrust stones.

Ahead, surprisingly incongruous in the dark rubble, ghostly stalks rose like a forest of armored plants with hard clamshell blossoms. The clusters reminded Anton of long barnacles or limpets that he had seen on the piers near his university town of Santa Barbara on Earth.

The two mated agricultural kithmen saw the growths and brightened. “Something alive, something growing,” said Syl’k, the female. “Not a normal ch’kanh.”

The group pushed ahead, grasping at any positive sign. In better days, Vao’sh had taken Anton down into a deep river gorge near the domed city. There, in the moist heat bathed with steam, colonies of armored anemones had risen with clacking hard petals to snatch gnatlike fliers from the air. The rememberer had called the plants ch’kanh.

These wild growths were the same as those plated anemones, but much larger, bristling with more outgrowths and telescoping stalks, each of which culminated in an armored mouth. These looked somehow...hungrier.

As the two agricultural kithmen ventured into the strange forest, the plated anemones began to sway. Burly Mhas’k played his handheld blazer across the growths, marveling at the plant structure. His mate Syl’k moved to touch the stalks, reaching toward one of the calcified blooms.

The armored growths had fallen into hibernating quiescence for the winter-long night, but either the bright lights or the farmers’ body warmth caused the anchored creatures to waken. Their cycle had been interrupted.

“I’d be careful,” Anton said.

Syl’k touched the large ch’kanh blossom. To her astonishment it cracked open like a scallop shell, its hard petals unfolding. The petals had unnervingly serrated edges. “I have never seen a flower like this.”

The anemone clamped around her wrist. In a single neat snipping movement it severed her hand.

Syl’k screamed. Mhas’k plunged forward to help his mate as all the anemone creatures came alive in a thrashing nest of tentacles. The petals opened and closed. Three of the largest blossoms seized Mhas’k by the shoulder, left arm, and right knee. They bit and chewed, and his blood splashed the ghostly armored stalks.

The agricultural kithman yelled, trying to drag himself away. Syl’k collapsed with blood spraying from the stump of her wrist. All the plants, large and small, bent down like a pack of hungry jaws. Their sawblade petals ripped through her protective suitfilm. In moments they devoured her amidst horrific sounds of tearing flesh and loud cracking bones.

Trying to fight his way free, Mhas’k thrashed so violently that he uprooted several of the ch’kanh, but even broken, their flexible stalks wrapped around his torso. The sharp stems became stingers that stabbed into his rib cage like knives, planting roots deep inside him.

It all happened in seconds. As the other refugees rushed forward, more ch’kanh turned questing maws toward them. Anton grabbed the burly digger Vik’k by the shoulder to keep him from jumping into the fray. By now the screams and gurgles of the two victims had fallen silent; they could hear only the thrashing and tearing of the carnivorous plants feeding.

Anton turned to see that the others had already fled. He hated leaving two of his companions behind, but Mhas’k and Syl’k were beyond help.

Sick at heart, the terrified survivors raced away from the thermal area and plunged once again into Maratha’s darkness.

Now they were six.

Chapter 21—RLINDA KETT

After a week en route, two shiploads of escapees from cold, dead Crenna arrived in the nearby Relleker system. Rlinda was pleased that their spirits were high in spite of all they had been through.

First, their sun had been killed by the hydrogues, its stellar fires entirely smothered in a battle with the faeros. Next, their planet had frozen over entirely—seas, continents, even the atmosphere. Then, on their escape flight from the dying system, the crowded escapees had been menaced by a group of marauding warglobes.

But the hundred colonists had
survived
, and they were finally coming to a safe place, relieved and happy. Rlinda was glad to have been of service.

“Governor Pekar isn’t exactly going to welcome them with open arms,” Davlin Lotze said, sitting beside Rlinda in the cockpit of the
Voracious Curiosity.

“Aww, what a grouch. From what I’ve seen, Governor Pekar doesn’t welcome anything, but she’s not going to have much choice when we show up at her doorstep, is she?” Rlinda smiled wickedly, already imagining the flustered expression on the stern woman’s face. “Who knows? Maybe we can make her feel guilty about turning you down in the first place.”

A second ship, the
Blind Faith,
flew alongside them in space, so full of Crenna refugees that they had to stand in the corridors and storage rooms, or sleep packed like newborn kittens on any available floor space. But after seeing their colony planet turned into an instant ice cube, the survivors didn’t really mind the warmth or the companionship.

Rlinda adjusted the controls. “The
Curiosity
’s flying like a drunken bumblebee with a brick on its back. I don’t think it’s ever been crammed like this—not that I’ve had the good fortune recently to have enough cargo to fill it so full.”

“I expect you’ll have plenty of customers from now on, Captain Kett. What you’re doing here will become the stuff of legend,” Davlin said. “And I’d prefer
you
got the benefit of it, so I can keep my name quiet.”

“So, who says I want to be stuck with all the cheering and adoration? You’re a hero, Davlin.”

“I am a specialist in obscure details. Publicity would cramp my style.”

Rlinda maintained her smile. He was clearly embarrassed by the gratitude they showered upon him, but she thought he also secretly enjoyed it. She had seen him walk among his fellow colonists, and she knew how much he cared for them. His cool aloofness was a well-practiced act.

Davlin had flown a small craft with very little fuel and barely managed to reach Relleker, where he had argued unsuccessfully with Governor Pekar to help with a rescue. Despite his pleas, only Rlinda and Branson “BeBob” Roberts had come to Crenna’s aid.

Now, when the two crowded ships approached the Relleker spaceport, the local government greeted them with little kindness or enthusiasm. A frantic-sounding traffic control officer insisted that both ships file landing-request forms and gain approvals before they delivered so many “unspecified immigrants.” But Rlinda ignored the Relleker officer, signing off with a bright “Thanks for your help. See you in a few minutes.”

Governor Jane Pekar and her coterie of bureaucrats and assistants rushed to where the
Curiosity
and the
Faith
landed. Stepping out, Rlinda held up her hands, as if she saw a brass band and a happy celebration to welcome them. She opened the cargo doors, and a wave of Crenna escapees stumbled out. The smiling men and women gulped deep breaths and looked up at the sun, as if to reassure themselves. With breathing room again, friends clapped each other on the back and hugged, dancing around on the smooth pavement blocks.

Seeing the crowd, Rlinda was amazed that so many people had actually fit into her ship. They had come aboard a few at a time, and now they were all together in a single group. It did seem quite intimidating.

Governor Pekar strode up to her. “You can’t bring all these people here, Captain Kett. We have neither the facilities nor the resources for such a population influx. Ours is a colony on the edge of survival itself—”

“You’ll do what you can, Governor.” Davlin stepped out beside Rlinda and met the governor with a stony glare. “It is, of course, your humanitarian duty, as specified in the Hansa Charter, which your colony signed.”

Jane Pekar was in her fifties, and her attempts to look younger and more vital had achieved the opposite effect. Her close-cropped bleached-yellow hair and deep tan looked decidedly artificial and too healthy to be real. Her eyes were a sapphire blue—cosmetic lenses?—and the frown looked as if it had been chiseled onto her lips with a blunt instrument. She watched with dismay as people kept streaming out of the two ships.

BeBob strutted over from the
Blind Faith,
put his arm around Rlinda’s broad shoulder and squeezed. Her favorite ex-husband was looking a bit scrawnier than usual, but he still felt very good against her. She leaned into his hug, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Whew, I never thought I’d breathe fresh air again,” he said. “It was getting a little rank on board. Just what you’d expect, I suppose, from all those sweaty and nervous people.” BeBob glanced at the governor and all her attendants and functionaries. “Um, have you asked if they can set up showers for everybody? I could use a rinse-off myself.”

“You sure could.” Rlinda turned to Pekar and raised her voice. “Considering Relleker’s tight situation, it’s not necessary to throw an elaborate feast for us, Governor. But a good warm meal would be nice.”

Pekar looked in angry consternation at all the refugees. And they kept coming. Four more exuberant men and women emerged from the
Blind Faith.

“We can provide minimal facilities and amenities,” the governor grumbled. “I’ll give you an hour to stretch your legs and settle in a bit here at the spaceport.” Her voice hardened. “And then I want you three in my offices to discuss how soon you can take all these people away to some other planet that can handle them.”

Rlinda had started out with a beef against the unhelpful governor of Relleker, and it wasn’t getting any better.

Almost a month ago, she and BeBob had come to the former resort planet as a stopover on their way to deliver heavy equipment and mining machinery to new colonies on abandoned Klikiss worlds. After hearing Davlin’s call for help, Rlinda and BeBob had dumped their expensive equipment in order to make room for the refugees.

Before they left to go save the Crenna colonists, the incensed governor had submitted an exorbitant bill for “inappropriate storage,” which Rlinda refused to pay. Therefore, Pekar impounded the equipment, though it was useless on Relleker’s terrain. In retaliation, Rlinda announced she would not deliver other supplies to Relleker until the colonization initiative’s property was returned. An irritating and unnecessary spat.

Now they sat in the waiting room of the governor’s office, exactly on time but cooling their heels in some sort of annoying power play. Davlin was not with them. He had gone off claiming he would arrive in time for the meeting, but he was late...and so was the governor.

“You’d think she’d be a little more understanding,” Rlinda said. “Crenna is the closest system to Relleker. The hydrogues could have hit here just as easily as there. If warglobes are on the move, who knows where they’ll go next?”

BeBob fidgeted. “And so many new colonies are depending on us to make our regular runs. Rescuing the survivors on Crenna already put us behind schedule. I need the equipment that Relleker impounded.”

“Eventually, Governor Pekar will realize she’d be happy to have you take it back,” Rlinda said. “You can probably load up again in a day.”

As if he had planned his timing, Davlin stepped through the door at the very moment Pekar summoned them into her office. The governor had changed her clothes for some unknown reason. Two assistants sat with her, taking duplicate copies of notes.

“The Hansa Charter is clear that it’s our human duty to offer assistance,” Pekar admitted. “However, let me be very frank: Those people cannot stay here. We don’t have the food or the facilities to support such an increase in our population. You’ll have to take them somewhere else.”

“We’d be happy to,” Rlinda said with a smug grin. “And I’m sure that once the Crenna folks get to know you all, they’ll be just as happy to leave. But the question is, how do we get all of them out of here?”

The governor scowled. “You brought them on your ships in the first place. Why not load them up again and fly off?”

BeBob spluttered. “That’s impossible! We were dangerously overloaded on the way here, but that was an emergency. I wouldn’t want to try it again. Besides, I have vital shipments to deliver to other new colony planets, and I can’t pick up the equipment and take all the passengers at the same time. If I don’t continue my run soon, we might lose populations in settlements that are even worse off than you are here, ma’am.” He gestured with his chin, as if it was obvious to any observer how warm and comfortable Relleker actually was. “Sorry if it’s a little inconvenient.”

The former resort planet had depended on high-paying tourists and offworld deliveries and luxury items. Before the hydrogue embargo on stardrive fuel, they had made little effort to become self-sufficient, and now the spoiled inhabitants didn’t know how to live by their own wits and resources.

“I suggest we take them to Earth,” Davlin said quietly. “I can speak directly with the Hansa Chairman, and we’ll work something out. I will also make sure he’s aware of Relleker’s reluctance to assist.”

Rlinda put her meaty elbows on the edge of the governor’s desk. “The
Curiosity
can safely handle maybe a third of the colonists, though it’ll be slow going. The
Faith
is a little worse off. That would delay—”

“No need,” Davlin said. “Relleker has another perfectly adequate vessel for the operation.” He looked with cold brown eyes toward Pekar, and Rlinda could see splintered anger there. “I’ve just hacked into your computer systems, Governor. It seems that when I requested a rescue ship a few weeks ago, you lied when you claimed that Relleker had nothing available. In fact, you have a fully functional transportation ship with sufficient fuel to get all the way to Earth. Without question, it would have made it to Crenna and back.” He cracked his knuckles with a sound like gunshots in the governor’s tense silence. “You denied me the use of that ship, when you knew that the survival of an entire colony was at stake.”

Pekar shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Rlinda noted that the woman’s deep artificial tan was not dark enough to cover her flush of guilt. “Mr. Lotze, there are severe penalties for unauthorized access of our computer systems.”

BeBob lurched to his feet. “Damn it! You had a ship available all this time? A big ship?”

“It was vital for our own purposes.”

“And now it’s vital for ours.” Davlin’s tone brooked no argument. “I am commandeering it in the name of Chairman Wenceslas. It still won’t carry all the colonists, but it can handle the ones Captain Kett can’t take. That frees Captain Roberts to continue his delivery duties and help other colonies. I believe you’ve placed all the colonization initiative equipment he was scheduled to deliver into storage. You will load it aboard his ship as soon as possible.”

“I can’t authorize that,” the governor said.

“I didn’t ask you to. You can file a complaint with the Terran Hanseatic League, but I will take that ship.”

Fuming, Pekar stared at the three of them, moving her gaze like the targeting point of a missile system. Davlin intimidated her; Rlinda wasn’t sure if the governor knew of his connections or simply suspected them. She surrendered with a huff. “If that’s what I need to do to get rid of these people, it’ll be an advantage to us in the long run. But I expect you to return the ship, Mr. Lotze.”

“When we’re quite done with it.” Davlin stood, looking satisfied. “I’ll prepare the other vessel right now and see if I can get two-thirds of the passengers aboard. It’ll be my pleasure to depart with all due haste.”

Rlinda put her hand on BeBob’s shoulder. “I’ll stay here for an extra day to help Captain Roberts load up the
Blind Faith
—and to air out the
Curiosity
. Then we’ll be on our way.”