Scattered Suns (54 page)

Chapter 115—ADAR ZAN’NH

The cohort of warliners, along with the newly recaptured ships, converged in the blue skies above Hyrillka, then descended en masse toward the rebel Designate’s citadel palace.

On previous trips with Adar Kori’nh, Zan’nh had seen the lush landscape, the mosaic-patterned spaceport, the open courtyards maintained for celebrations, festivals, and Solar Navy skyparades. Since the injured Designate’s return, the rebuilt spaceport had been expanded. Ornamental structures, statues, and hanging trellises had been cleared away to make wider landing fields that could accommodate the industrial ships and agricultural haulers that delivered processed shiing.

Beyond the city limits, the sweeping flatlands were now embroidered with new canals, muddy ditches dug in long, interconnecting paths so that Rusa’h’s workers could plant more and more of the drug-producing plantmoths. All arable land had been dedicated to raising the nialia plants for the rebellious Designate’s continued corruption and conquest.

Zan’nh, eyes blazing, stood at the helm of his warliner surveying the changes. Hyrillka, and indeed much of the Horizon Cluster, would require many years before life could return to normal.

Below them the open citadel palace had become a fortress. Thousands of Ildiran guards loyal to the mad Designate swarmed around the hill, preparing to sacrifice themselves in defense of the self-proclaimed Imperator. They carried explosives, launchers, and projectile weapons now turned against other Ildirans.

“Truly, this is a time of great tragedy,” Mage-Imperator Jora’h transmitted to the Adar from his adjacent ship. “Prepare to land our troops. We will capture Rusa’h and take back Hyrillka.”

“It might be more effective, Liege, to simply level the citadel palace from above.” Standing next to Zan’nh in the command nucleus, the Dobro Designate looked remarkably unperturbed as he made the appalling suggestion to the Mage-Imperator. “We have more than enough warliners to do it.”

“We will find another way,” Jora’h said. “Those people are victims of my mad brother’s deceit. How can I not offer them a chance to return to the fold of my
thism
? They were tricked by Rusa’h.”

Udru’h shrugged. “They are traitors, Liege. They deserve whatever punishment you deem fit. We must remove the mad Designate’s disease before the Ildiran people can heal.”

“I will not consider that. There would be too many casualties, people who do not deserve to die. I will use my own powers instead.”

Zan’nh looked from his father on the screen to his uncle beside him. He hated Udru’h’s suggestion, yet berated himself for having been unwilling to make such a horrific decision when he first encountered Rusa’h’s crusade of corruption. He was not qualified to offer an opinion on the issue.

The Dobro Designate did not back down. “Liege, you cannot be everywhere at once. Did you not dispatch Osira’h to communicate with the hydrogues? You should be back in Mijistra waiting for her. Our Empire faces a much larger crisis if she is unable to break through to the hydrogues. Your time here is limited.”

Jora’h finally answered in a low voice, “I know, Udru’h. I have my fastest ships waiting for the moment I hear from Osira’h. If she brings the hydrogues, I will have to leave here...but it has been days. I am beginning to fear the worst.”

“It is Osira’h, Liege. Do not fear yet,” Udru’h said. “But if you are forced to leave, then you must authorize Adar Zan’nh and myself to do what we must to put an end to the corrupt
thism
.”

At the Mage-Imperator’s order, Zan’nh’s ship and two other warliners made their way to the expansive new spaceport. From below, Rusa’h’s rebels used their converted weapons to open fire on the Solar Navy ships, launching explosive projectiles. Feeling the impacts against the warliner’s armor, Zan’nh closed his eyes, but did not hesitate. “Return fire and remove the threat from the ground.”

The weapons officer looked at him. “Kill them, Adar?”

His eyes snapped open. “Yes! Remove the threat before they harm our ships.”

A burst of energy weapons from the lead warliner swiftly vaporized the handful of deluded fighters on the ground. Zan’nh watched, caught his breath, then said in a voice as hard as iron, “Now, land our ships and proceed with the Mage-Imperator’s orders.”

His warliner settled onto the landing grid beside a group of overloaded cargo vessels, every one of them full of fresh shiing to be used in the spreading rebellion. The Mage-Imperator’s ship followed, landing off to one side.

“Udru’h, disembark and accompany me,” Jora’h transmitted. “I want all soldiers from two warliners to follow me on the ground. We will surround the citadel palace and force our way forward until we seize the stronghold.”

“Those closest to Rusa’h will be the most strongly tied to his corrupt
thism,
Liege. They may not wish to be freed,” the Adar cautioned.

“Then our ground troops may have no choice but to kill some of them. We will save those that we can, but for
Rusa’h
there will be no forgiveness. He is certainly aware of what he has done. He must pay for his crimes.”

“And what are my orders, Liege?” Zan’nh asked.

“Take the rest of the warliners and destroy the shiing. All of it.”

Adar Zan’nh dispatched a dismantling crew to break open the waiting cargo ships on the landing field. Well-muscled soldiers and cargo workers removed packages of powdered shiing and dumped the processed plantmoth sap in a growing mound on the landing field.

“Burn it,” Zan’nh said. “Destroy it.”

Leaving a large team to finish ransacking the cargo ships and destroying the stockpile of the processed drug, the Adar returned to his ship and joined the other warliners overhead. “Raze the plantmoth fields, obliterate the nialia vines, turn everything to ash. From now on, that land must be used for food crops.”

As the group of warliners cruised away from the spaceport, Zan’nh looked around the command nucleus. His officers remained reticent, fighting through veils of guilt for having allowed themselves to be dragged into his unwise rebellion. “Take care not to hurt anyone in the fields. We’ve killed enough already. Too many.”

The ships headed low over the flat, fertile ground where infinite rows of waving, fluttering plantmoths grew tall, expanding their blossoms, swelling their tangled stems. Hyrillkan workers saw the big ships coming and scattered.

Zan’nh gripped the rail of the elevated platform. “Wide dispersal of our energy beams with enough thermal output to wither all of those nialias.”

“Patterning locked in, Adar.”

He turned to his flight controller. “Move in a slow, graceful glide to be sure we don’t miss a single stalk.” Then he nodded to the weapons station. “Fire at will.”

Hot beams lanced out from the foremost warliner, mowing down and igniting the writhing nialias. The other warliners followed suit.

Mobile male plantmoths broke free and flew upward, dispersing like startled butterflies. They swirled around, caught in the thermal updraft and drawn to the flames. In the wake of the warliners, only blackened husks remained, charred vines pointing like skeletal fingers toward the sky.

The fields were so extensive that even with more than three hundred warliners it still took hours to complete the initial sweep. Zan’nh never wavered. The battleships continued their rout, blasting the shiing production fields. Steam boiled up from the newly dug canals; murky smoke and soot streamed from the devastation. The blackened land and destroyed fields reminded Zan’nh of the hydrogue attack that had struck Hyrillka only a year earlier.

But he had no cause to compare himself to the alien marauders. He stared at the path of ruin. “Continue firing.”

Sensor alarms sounded, and orbital first-warning satellites announced the arrival of more and more Ildiran battleships. His scan operator turned to him, wide-eyed. “Forty-five warliners, Adar. They’re coming toward us fully armed, in attack mode.”

Zan’nh crossed his arms over his uniformed chest. “So my brother has returned with the rest of the maniple he stole.” Given Thor’h’s penchant for violence, the Adar knew the impending battle could be the saddest, and bloodiest, ever recorded in the
Saga of Seven Suns.
Nevertheless, he allowed himself a calm, determined smile. His brother had much to answer for.

“Recall all warliners from the nialia fields. Now we’re in for a fight.”

Chapter 116—MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H

The Solar Navy’s ground assault teams surrounded the strategic hill and settled in for a cautious siege. They wore full body armor and carried traditional Ildiran weapons, testing the entrenched defenses of Rusa’h. Thick smoke filled the sky.

Designate Udru’h paced the paved ground, scowling up at the citadel palace. “Liege, we have more than enough personnel and weaponry to seize the palace and capture the Hyrillka Designate.”

Closely guarded, a pensive Jora’h walked beside him. “I need to resolve this in a way that proves I am the true and legitimate Mage-Imperator, Udru’h. If I simply slaughter all those who oppose me, am I really better than my brother?”

Udru’h waved the question away, as if the answer was obvious. “You are better because you are the Mage-Imperator.”

Jora’h touched the threads of
thism
in his mind, felt the empty silence of the gap where his lunatic brother had torn his people from the overall web. Jora’h could not just let them all go. The Empire must be made whole again; the Hyrillkans must be returned to the pure glow of the Lightsource.

Before the siege preparations were completed, Rusa’h’s corrupted followers up in the citadel palace let out a loud cheer. Jora’h gazed upward as one of his septars rushed to him. “Forty-five more warliners have arrived, Liege! They are under the command of Prime Designate Thor’h.”

Jora’h replied in a voice honed sharp by anger at his treacherous son. “Thor’h is no longer the Prime Designate. A traitor to the Ildiran Empire can never stand in line to be the next Mage-Imperator.”

The officer looked flustered. “With the rest of the cohort, we outnumber them sevenfold—but they are not slowing. Will they surrender?”

Jora’h met the Dobro Designate’s gaze, and both of them reached the same conclusion. “No, Thor’h will try to destroy as many of us as he can. With forty-five ships, all of them equipped with weapons designed to fight hydrogues, he can cause terrible damage.” He could sense no soul-threads quaking from the oncoming group of vessels. The emptiness in the mental network was like a cold, dark maw opening wide to swallow them all up. “We do outnumber them. We shall stand firm, and we shall win.”

If the rebel warships swept in with all weapons blazing, Jora’h knew he would not be able to wrest control back fast enough, even with his stronger
thism
. Jora’h’s ships would be forced to fire on them. The corrupt Prime Designate would attack and keep attacking until every one of his ships was destroyed in the effort. It would be a slaughter.

Udru’h stood beside the Mage-Imperator. “Are you prepared to open fire on your son, Liege? Will you destroy those ships?”

“I will do what is necessary—but no more.” He turned to the septar. “Summon Adar Zan’nh.” In the meantime, he would do what he could by extending his control of the
thism,
trying to reach the oncoming rebel warliners, even if he had to take them one at a time.

“The Adar is already on his way, Liege.”

Like wild animals, Thor’h’s stolen warliners careened into the much larger cohort arrayed in a defensive pattern overhead. The Solar Navy battleships had activated their protective shields, but the attackers unleashed explosive projectiles and energy beams with such ferocity that several warliners were damaged. Engines smoking and hull plates scored with deep marks, three of the Mage-Imperator’s ships dropped out of formation, struggling to remain aloft. One managed to reach the landing field, where confiscation crews were still burning shiing in large bonfires; the other two damaged warliners wavered, then careened through the canal-laced cropland, spraying mud, ashes, and water, before finally coming to rest in open fields.

Without any regimentation, Thor’h’s warliners stampeded through the loyal ships, opening fire again and again. They attacked like a pack of rabid predators pouncing on a large group of herd beasts.

The Solar Navy ships responded with conservative blows, attempting to damage but not destroy the rebellious vessels. Their tactics were too hesitant, and the captains did not retaliate with enough force. Thor’h seized the opportunity and ordered his ships to concentrate their attack on one of the lumbering warliners: All forty-five ships opened fire, and the warliner could not withstand the barrage. The giant vessel exploded.

Jora’h could feel hundreds of his crewmen dying as they tumbled into the open air, burned in the flame front. Horror and dismay thrummed through the
thism
like a shrieking off-key note from a musical instrument.

Jora’h sent determined reassurance through the soul-threads he controlled, forcing the crews to stay together. He could sense nothing from the traitorous Prime Designate, but Thor’h must be laughing.

Before the rebel battleships could converge over the citadel palace and strike the siege encampment, Zan’nh’s warliners returned from the nialia fields in an overwhelming display of superior military power. Now more than three hundred full-scale battleships faced the newly arrived group.

Watching the aerial battles beside the Dobro Designate, Jora’h snapped to the anxious septar, “Instruct Adar Zan’nh to implement the surrender of these rebels. He is to bring Thor’h to me—unharmed.”

“You expect them to simply lay down their arms?” Udru’h said. “They are fanatically corrupted by Rusa’h. They will not see reason. I warn you not to underestimate the danger.”

Jora’h drew deep breaths, focusing his concentration. “I am surrounded by
seven times
as many loyal soldiers as Thor’h has. My grasp on the
thism
is enough. By its own strength, my mind can direct the turncoats back to the correct pathways.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and reached his mental fingers into the rebel warliners, seeking out each mind aboard, each person who had once belonged to him. Nimbly touching the wiry soul-threads, he disentangled the snarls, drew the threads closer to his light—and reconnected them. He went through one rebel soldier at a time, one officer, one technician. He continued to move his thoughts deck by deck, until he had restored control to one of Thor’h’s ships and made them submit to Adar Zan’nh.

With the reconversion of that warliner, the Mage-Imperator’s hold grew stronger still, and he concentrated on the next one. But there were so many!

He sensed Thor’h’s resistance, too strong, a diamond-hard barrier, and decided to confront his son’s vessel last. He wrestled with one warliner after another, and they fell like pieces in a child’s game, token after token.

With each battleship he restored, with each complement of Ildirans returned to his fold, his strength increased and the
thism
tightened. Eventually, Jora’h found he could continue the process without devoting his full concentration to it.

When Thor’h realized he was mysteriously losing ship after ship in his group, he responded with desperate violence. He took his own lead warliner, followed by two others; the three battleships broke away from the chaotic assemblage of vessels and hurtled directly toward the recaptured landing field, where Solar Navy crews were disposing of the shiing stockpiles. Four of the Adar’s ships pursued him, but Thor’h pulled ahead, flying so low he was in danger of crashing.

Zan’nh’s ground crews were unloading the last of the cargo ships; great piles of shiing dust burned in smoldering bonfires. With unbelievable malice, Thor’h dropped a load of explosive projectiles on the cargo ships and Solar Navy crews. In moments, the rebuilt landing field was an inferno. Vessel after vessel ignited and contributed to the blaze. Soldiers ran screaming as the march of flames consumed them.

Without slowing, Thor’h’s battleship shot like a comet past the three damaged Solar Navy warliners in the charred nialia fields, and dumped more explosives just to cause additional damage. Coming in hot behind him, Zan’nh fired at the Prime Designate’s ship, trying to bring it down. In spite of the damage to his engines and hull, Thor’h flew onward. His supply of artillery seemed inexhaustible.

On the ground, furiously trying to regain control of the remaining rebel ships, Jora’h opened his eyes and looked at the Dobro Designate. He had already seized most of the crews, though Thor’h’s warliner and two others continued their rampage.

“You are correct, Udru’h,” the Mage-Imperator finally said. “Too many Ildirans have already died. We cannot wait. I must excise this threat. Now.”

Still concentrating on the last three prodigal warliners, Jora’h carefully, and with great determination, walked along the uphill path toward the citadel palace, flanked by hundreds of armed guards. He signaled his brother to accompany him.

“We will go to their stronghold and break this siege.” Jora’h strode forward. “I am the rightful Mage-Imperator, and I require my Empire back.”