Scattered Suns (9 page)

Orli didn’t argue with him. They gathered the salvaged supplies she had collected, and then Orli followed the old man out onto the plains of Corribus.

Chapter 14—QUEEN ESTARRA

After speeches and a gala send-off, the King and Queen waved to the crowds as they boarded a Hansa diplomatic transport to Ildira. Already settled in before the fanfare began, Chairman Wenceslas was at work in his cabin with the door locked, ignoring the show outside. He’d never had any interest in stealing the spotlight; he preferred to work behind the scenes.

Peter hurried Estarra to their own quarters, hoping to avoid the Chairman’s notice—though obviously Basil didn’t want to be bothered by the royal couple, either.

Without asking permission, Estarra had brought one of the small potted treelings from the Whisper Palace’s conservatory. Peter had agreed to help her smuggle it onto the diplomatic transport and hide it in a cabinet in their quarters.

“I brought this one myself from Theroc, when I came to marry you,” she explained, stroking the golden scaly-barked stem. “Since we’re about to meet the Mage-Imperator, it seems a fine gift for him. You don’t mind?”

“Basil won’t like losing one of the treelings.”

“Nahton is the court green priest, and
he
said this wouldn’t affect the performance of his duties,” she said, sounding bolder than she felt. She had already run through the arguments in her head. “Besides, Sarein is bound to return from Theroc soon. She can bring more treelings with her.”

Estarra secured the potted container as their craft began to accelerate out of orbit, escorted by several old-model EDF Manta cruisers. She and Peter both hated to be in such close quarters with the Chairman; they knew what he was capable of. Basil had never denied trying to kill them, and the friction between the Chairman and the King remained unresolved. And she was very nervous that Basil would learn their new secret.

“It’s going to be a long trip to Ildira,” Estarra said.

Not long ago, she had discovered that she was pregnant, which was cause for both joy and fear. Once she’d quietly confirmed that she was carrying Peter’s baby, Estarra had revealed the news to him.

Though the pregnancy was unexpected, she certainly wanted the child, and so did Peter. Basil had imposed birth-control measures on the couple, but no method was entirely reliable, and accidents happened. It wasn’t their fault.

But Chairman Wenceslas did not tolerate “accidents”—unless he staged them himself.

As pressures mounted from the hydrogue war, the recalcitrant Hansa colonies, and the outlaw Roamer clans, Basil demonstrated his increasing edginess and irrationality. There was no telling how he might react upon learning the King and Queen were due to have a royal heir, especially one that
he
hadn’t planned.

“He’ll find out sooner or later, but let’s keep it a secret for now.” Peter had whispered the faint, breathy words in her ear one dark night as they held each other close. “As long as we can. Otherwise Basil has too many options—and not many of them are beneficial to us.”

Secrets.
She was growing to hate them. Estarra had grown up in the peaceful worldforest on Theroc. She had a close family and many friends among the green priests. She’d never been good at keeping secrets. But now her life, or at least the life of her child, depended on it.

Peter noticed the slight changes in her behavior, her appearance, her appetite. She needed to use the privacy chambers more often and suffered from occasional nausea. The subtle signs were there to indicate a pregnancy. Aboard the diplomatic transport, so close to Basil Wenceslas, she was terrified she would let something slip. The Chairman usually watched everything so closely.

However, as the journey progressed, Basil kept himself wrapped up in business matters, engrossed in the documents and news briefings displayed on his datascreen. For such an expert in political and business matters, the Chairman did not seem to know or care much about personal details.

Peter shocked her when he actually went out of his way to ask Basil to join them for the evening meal. “You’re tempting fate,” she said to him in an urgent whisper. “Don’t call attention to anything!”

But the Chairman predictably brushed aside the invitation, and Peter gave her a knowing smile. In a low voice, he said, “If I
didn’t
ask him, he might join us unexpectedly. Offering to spend time with Basil is the best way to make sure he leaves us alone.”

“You two have a very twisted relationship.”

“Yes, we do.”

On the second day en route, when Estarra walked with Peter down the ship’s main corridor, they unexpectedly encountered the Chairman as he stepped out of his cabin. Estarra felt as if they were children who had accidentally disturbed their father in his study.

Peter flashed his most dazzling smile at the Chairman. “Basil! I was just curious—I haven’t heard a report in some time. Has there been any more word about the Soldier compies? You said you were going to verify that the Klikiss programming contains nothing harmful.”

Basil frowned as he stepped back into his quarters. “The matter is under review, and no cause for your concern.”

Peter gave a knowing nod. “You taught me to use answers like that to avoid giving any information.”

Basil narrowed his gray eyes. “Then that’s one lesson you remember, at least. Try to pay more attention to the other ones.” The Chairman sealed himself in his quarters.

Estarra looked at her husband, wide-eyed. “Do you have to provoke him?”

“I can’t let him forget that I know his game.” Peter slipped his arm around her waist. “No matter how much I despise Basil, those Soldier compies still worry me. I know he’s just as uncertain about them as I am—but because the EDF can’t do without the Soldier compies, Basil doesn’t
want
to find anything wrong with them. The war effort couldn’t afford to lose them. He’s not stupid, though. Even with all his reassurances, I doubt he’s ignoring the threat entirely.”

“He just doesn’t want to tell you what he’s doing?”

“Because that would validate my suspicions. He’ll never admit that. I’ve still got OX digging into the matter, but lately his time has been committed to Prince Daniel.”

The two of them crossed to the forward observation deck to watch as they approached the seven suns of Ildira. The pilot had detected unusually violent flare activity in one of the stars, a component of the Durris triple sun, and therefore chose a course that allowed them to enter the core Ildiran systems along a completely different vector.

They sat in plush chairs on the observation deck to watch the streaming stars. Surrounded by the endless wilderness of space, Estarra felt alone and vulnerable, far from Earth and far from Theroc. She clutched Peter’s arm, and he held her close, reassuring her without words, though he was in over his head as much as she was.

Estarra tried to take heart from the knowledge that they would soon be in the fabled city of Mijistra, in an ancient alien empire that had remained stable for more than ten thousand years. Among the Ildirans, as guests of the Mage-Imperator, she was sure that all their troubles would seem far away.

Chapter 15—ADAR ZAN’NH

After Thor’h opened fire on the doomed warliner, explosions continued as bulkhead after bulkhead ripped open. Aboard the flagship, Zan’nh clutched the railing to keep his balance against the torrent of screams from the helpless Solar Navy crewmen as they died.

Trapped and desperate, he could barely catch his breath, but he squeezed out the words. He could think of no other choice. “Thor’h! I will—I will destroy your ship! I will order all my warliners to open fire!”

Thor’h just chuckled. “Do you think I could believe such absurdity? That you or your crew would slaughter the innocent crewmembers of this warliner, merely to eliminate me and seven rebels?
This
ship is full of your own Solar Navy soldiers. Remember that. Ildirans do not fire on Ildirans.” He laughed again. “You have neither the strength nor the nerve. It is an alien concept to you.”

As if to prove his appalling resolve, Thor’h launched a second volley against the already dying ship. The unnecessary stream of explosives tore the remaining shreds of the Ildiran battleship’s hull into smoldering droplets of slag that drifted in random trajectories, propelled by dwindling momentum.

Through the
thism,
the deaths of the last crewmembers plunged like hot knives into Zan’nh’s back. Across the comm channels of the remaining forty-six warliners, Solar Navy soldiers wailed, unable to accept the impossible reality.

“Your pain must be unbearable, Adar,” the Hyrillka Designate said, his tone a mockery of compassion. Then, as the seconds ticked away, Rusa’h ordered more hostages to line up for execution in the docking bay. “I appeal to you again—surrender your ships and put an end to this suffering.” When Zan’nh did not answer, the Designate heaved a sigh. “Two minutes left. Shall I have Thor’h prepare to destroy another whole warliner? Or would you prefer I made a more personal, bloody sacrifice on your own decks? Thousands of victims? Or one?” He dangled a tantalizing pause. “Or none? You choose.”

From the flagship’s command nucleus, Zan’nh cried out in anguish. Not long ago he had endured as many deaths on Hrel-oro, victims of the hydrogues. But this time
Ildirans
had just slaughtered all of those soldiers. Ildirans! The very idea was inconceivable after ten thousand years of history.

“Adar! Please make him stop this!” one of his bridge officers cried.

The mad Designate said in a taunting voice, “It has been another three minutes.” Even before Zan’nh could look up to the screen, the pleasure mates killed another hostage, and warm blood spilled into the Adar’s mental network. The screams continued their relentless, dissonant symphony in his mind. The Adar could not regain his mental balance. He could not reach a decision. It was too much, too fast, too impossible. He was suffocating.

But he was Adar of the Solar Navy. He must not allow a maniple of warships to fall into the hands of this insane rebellious Designate. He must not—

Thor’h transmitted from the bridge of the captured warliner, “My weapons systems are powered and ready, Imperator Rusa’h. Shall I target a second warliner? We would still have an acceptable force if we were left with forty-five ships—or even forty, should the Adar continue to force our hand.”

“Thor’h, you may destroy another entire warliner,” Rusa’h answered from the captured docking bay, “if it proves necessary. Adar, what say you? Thousands of lives are in your hands—whether Thor’h targets another ship, or you yourself order the destruction of the lead warliner.
Thousands
.”

Zan’nh called hoarsely over the general channel, “Evasive maneuvers, all warliners! Keep away from Thor’h’s ship. Amplify shields to maximum.”

Thor’h chuckled. “That won’t do, brother. You’ll never guess which one I might target, and these augmented weapons are designed to crack hydrogue hulls—they can certainly penetrate your own shields.”

In the corridors outside the docking bay, extraction teams continued to work at the wall. Zan’nh demanded an update. “Still at least forty minutes, Adar.”

His throat clenched. Forty minutes was enough time for Rusa’h to kill more than a dozen additional captives, enough time for Thor’h to destroy several warliners—unless Zan’nh ordered the destruction of the rebel warliner, murdered all the thousands of helpless innocent crewmen...And, even once the assault team broke into the besieged docking bay, the Designate’s rebels would go down fighting. More of his crewmembers would die in a deadly shootout, including many of the hostages.

More blood, waves and waves of it! This was simply unacceptable. Could capitulation buy him more time to make a plan? He couldn’t be sure.

“Bring the next victim. And Thor’h, prepare another warliner target,” Designate Rusa’h said with a disappointed sigh. “More deaths on your hands, Adar. Just imagine how you will be remembered in the
Saga of Seven Suns.
”

“Stop!” Zan’nh cried. “If I...if I yield for now, do you swear not to harm more of my crew? Will you order Thor’h not to shoot any more warliners?”

“I never wished to kill them, Adar,” Rusa’h answered, the epitome of reason and sanity. “Such a foolish waste. But I do require your Solar Navy for my own purposes. I am forced to these drastic measures only because I must have your cooperation.”

Zan’nh had stalled the rebel Designate past the allowed three minutes, and Rusa’h noticed as well. He turned to the bloodthirsty pleasure mates. “Kill another one...and draw out the pain, if you can. Perhaps this will be the last. Our Adar must learn to make decisions more quickly and firmly.”

The crystal knives were raised. A female protocol soldier stared up at her captors in resentful resignation. One of the vicious pleasure mates yanked the captive’s head back to expose her throat.

“I yield!” Zan’nh shouted. “If you swear not to kill any more of them, then I yield.”
For now.

The pleasure mates froze, looking to Rusa’h for further instructions. They seemed disappointed. The mad Designate turned back toward the imagers to look the Adar in the eye. “Your surrender must be unconditional. Command all captains of the remaining warliners to surrender their ships to Hyrillka. You are the Adar, and they will obey you.”

“Not without conditions,” Zan’nh insisted. “Give me your word—as a son of a Mage-Imperator—that you will not harm them.”

Rusa’h considered this. “Very well. As long as you cooperate, I will not kill or injure members of the Solar Navy crew—and I have no intention of harming you either, Adar. You would make a fine partner in our cause.”

“I will never join your insurrection.”

“Then at least he will make a good hostage,” Thor’h pointed out. “Since we no longer have Pery’h.”

Zan’nh clenched his hands, struggling to find some way out of this nightmarish situation without watching another several thousand crewmen die. At the moment he saw nothing else he might do...but that didn’t mean he might not find a solution later. Time. He needed time.

Someone among his crew would find an opportunity to recapture the warliners. Even after he ostensibly took control, the Hyrillka Designate couldn’t have enough followers to stand against all the Solar Navy soldiers. In order to command the forty-six remaining vessels, Rusa’h would need trained crews, experts. The small group of rebels could not control this battle group for long.

The situation would change. It had to.

Zan’nh knew he had been defeated for now, but it was only temporary. He would trust his abilities and his crew. Ultimately, they would find a way to escape and bring Rusa’h and Thor’h to justice. But at the moment, Zan’nh could not tolerate any further loss.

Thor’h had been right. The Adar could not stomach ordering his own warliners to open fire on Qul Fan’nh’s first battleship. To achieve victory by committing such a sin was unconscionable.

With a sick heart, Zan’nh turned to his communications officer. “Let me address all ships.” The words tasted like poison in his mouth. “Attention all septars, all warliner captains. Surrender your warliners to Rusa’h and his rebels. You will not be harmed. I have given my word that we will not resist.”

For now,
he repeated to himself.
For now
.