The Saga of Seven Suns: Veiled Alliances (2 page)
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Authors: Kevin J. Anderson
Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #General
2
ADAR BALI’NH
He had met and interacted with humans before, in small groups. He didn’t dislike them, simply failed to understand them. But he was the Adar, supreme commander of the Ildiran Solar Navy, and the Mage-Imperator had honored him with this assignment to lead a formal delegation to the King of Earth.
Adar Bali’nh had studied all the information available to him. The competent computerized companion OX, a diminutive robotic servant and historian from one of the retrieved generation ships, had briefed Bali’nh thoroughly during their voyage from Ildira. After their many conversations, the Adar felt he understood OX better than he understood humans.
The Ildirans had numerous discrete kiths, like breeds. In general, they were similar to humans in appearance—at least the noble kithmen were—but Bali’nh did not let himself be fooled that humans were the same. All Ildirans were connected by an invisible web of telepathy, the
thism
, centered on the Mage-Imperator; the
thism
bound them into a tight community, allowing them to act with unity. Humans had no such connection; they were separate and alone. He tried not to pity them too much.
Bali’nh would discharge his duty, make the Mage-Imperator proud by treating King Ben with formal respect . . . but deep in his heart, Adar Bali’nh knew that opening the Spiral Arm to these ambitious humans meant that his steady, predictable life was over.
The Ildiran Empire had changed little over the fifteen thousand years of its existence. Every event was chronicled in the Ildiran epic
Saga of Seven Suns
. His people did not react well to change. . . .
As his maniple of forty-nine warliners descended toward Earth’s capital city, Adar Bali’nh gave orders for all ships to deploy their grandiose thermal-radiating panels, and extend the colorful decoration on the warliners’ hulls so that the Solar Navy provided a most spectacular show.
Seven groups of seven warliners spread across the sky in formation while the Adar dispatched his flagship to the designated zone in front of the Whisper Palace.
Below them, King Ben’s residence was an ornate structure surrounded by parks, fountains, and statue gardens. Regarding the view from his command nucleus, the Adar could not put aside his racial pride. Even though this was an impressive place, Earth could not match Ildira with its dazzling seven suns that bathed the planet in constant golden light. Night fell here on Earth, and Ildirans did not like the darkness.
As the flagship landed in the Grand Plaza in front of the Whisper Palace, Bali’nh mused to the human-shaped robot, deciding to be polite. “So this is Earth. Your descriptions have not done it justice, OX.”
The little compy turned his golden eye sensors to study the city before him. “I have not seen it for a long time, Adar Bali’nh. In fact, I never imagined I would see it again. Each generation ship carried a compy such as myself to serve as a teacher and historian to preserve the memories of home for successive generations. When I departed Earth aboard the
Peary
one hundred forty-nine years ago, the Whisper Palace had not yet been constructed. My knowledge is extremely out of date.”
“Then we will both learn the current situation. Shall we go and meet Earth’s King?” The two descended toward the departure deck.
Stabilizing fields kept the landed flagship balanced perfectly in place, barely kissing the pavement. Ordered ranks of King Ben’s Royal Guards marched up to stand before the warliner as the ceremonial egress ramp extended from the bottom deck.
When the hatch slid open, Adar Bali’nh took a long breath of the air of a new world, felt the warm sunlight, looked out at the blue sunlit sky, and decided that Earth was a fine world after all. He could be comfortable here for their two-month official visit.
The Adar and OX walked down the ramp, followed by their own honor guard of burly, bestial-looking guard kithmen in full crystal-scale armor; many other Ildirans were observing via sensor screens aboard the warliners. The Adar believed himself to be perfectly safe.
Bali’nh stopped at the bottom of the ramp and faced the captain of the Royal Guard, who stood with his anxiety well-concealed. He extended his palm, fingers splayed in the traditional Ildiran salute, and then smiled because OX had taught him to. “I am Adar Bali’nh. With the blessing of our omnipotent Mage-Imperator, I have come to Earth to begin formal relations with your King.”
The Adar’s features were similar to those of humans, though squarer, stronger, and his skin was not pale pink, but rather a greenish-gold color. His black hair was long and flowing, shot with two bright streaks of white that originated from each temple.
He indicated the small compy. “I am also returning your competent computerized companion, whom we rescued from the generation ship,
Peary
.”
“You brought one of the old compies back! That’s a nice surprise.” The Guard Captain gestured behind him as his men stepped aside to form a long, open corridor in their ranks. “This way, Adar Bali’nh. King Ben will receive you in his Throne Hall.”
Inside, the Whisper Palace was quite spectacular, the Throne Hall alone as cavernous as a warliner’s cargo hold. The old bearded King sat on a high dais approached by a long succession of stone steps; his throne was situated before a broad window that looked out upon Earth’s open skies. The clouds were turning golden with the setting of the sun, and Bali’nh wondered just how dark this city would get, but OX had assured him that humans kept the darkness at bay with artificial lights, just as any Ildiran splinter colony would.
Bali’nh stood at the base of the steps, looking up at the King. The Adar’s red cape hung from his squared shoulders. He addressed King Ben in the manner that OX had taught him. “Your Majesty, in all the history of our empire, as is told in the
Saga of Seven Suns
, Ildirans have encountered no other intelligent race—until now. This is a sign of great things, and our Mage-Imperator offers to share Ildiran knowledge and technology. We welcome humans as our friends and partners into the civilization of the Spiral Arm. We are impressed by your boldness in sending out your generation ships on what was surely a very risky quest.”
From his throne, King Ben cleared his throat, “Yes, they were quite brave, those pioneers. We thank you for rescuing them.”
Bali’nh nodded again. “In the years since we first encountered the
Caillié
, we have located all but one of your generation vessels and delivered them to suitable worlds for settlement.”
King Ben used a ringed hand to stroke his lower lip; he furrowed his brow as if deep in contemplation. “We owe you a great deal for all you have done for us, Adar Bali’nh.” He leaned forward, as if noticing OX for the first time. “And now this compy from the
Peary
—what a relic! He must have fascinating stories.”
OX took a half step forward. “Yes, your Majesty. Not only did I chronicle the voyage of the
Peary
, but I discovered a greater purpose when I began learning from the Ildirans. Over many centuries, their Solar Navy has mapped hundreds of habitable planets, but their empire has no interest in colonizing those planets. In other words, Sire, all those worlds are untouched and unclaimed.”
Bali’nh nodded. “There are many habitable worlds across the Spiral Arm. We do not lay claim to them. And the stardrive we offer will allow you to explore and settle new territories.”
The King glanced to one side, and Bali’nh caught a glimpse of a man in the shadows of an alcove. The King’s expression suddenly changed to one of worry. He said in a more uncertain voice, “We look forward to reconnecting with our lost children. The first generation ship you encountered, the
Caillié
—how is that colony doing? You delivered those people to a heavily forested planet, I believe?”
“The planet is called Theroc,” Bali’nh said. “The
Caillié
refugees have adapted to the great trees and appear to be thriving on their new world.”
OX spoke up, “Perhaps someday, a representative from Theroc will come to Earth, just as I have.”
King Ben smiled. “We can only hope.”
3
THARA WEN
The planet Theroc was a paradise: skyscraper-high trees with golden scaled bark and immense interlocking fronds, thick underbrush, beautiful flowers, countless varieties of delicious fruits and vegetables. Many of the gorgeous moths and jewel-toned beetles were edible and savory. With such natural bounty, Theroc provided everything the colonists from the generation ship
Caillié
could possibly want. The people had been delighted to make their home there for the past five years.
Thara Wen ran through the underbrush tearing branches aside, crashing through the leaves. She screamed, but no one could hear her.
Thara tripped among the weeds, clawed her way through the branches, dodged around the bole of a huge tree, and stopped for a moment to catch her breath. She clutched her long, ebony hair, which was now tangled with leaves and the fluff of seeds. A small condorfly droned past her face, attracted by the beads of perspiration running down her forehead. It hovered there, staring at her with multifaceted eyes, then thrummed away.
Shaking with terror, Thara caught her balance against the tree trunk, heaved huge breaths, and then kept running. She longed to hide, but she needed to keep running. She raced deeper into the untracked forest.
And he kept following.
Thara wore only a simple shift over her thin body; she had no weapon, though if she had stopped to think about it, she might have found a sharp stick and tried to defend herself. She couldn’t take the time. Each second allowed Sam Roper to get closer.
He was strong and bloodthirsty, and she didn’t think she could fight him, didn’t want to fight him. He had chased her far from the colony village now, and Thara had no hope that someone would hear and rescue her—she was on her own. His loud voice, sharp as an axe, cut through the thick forest. “Thara Wen, come here, if you know what’s good for you, girl!”
Roper had short brown hair, broad shoulders, and eyes that never met another’s directly—the sort of person who was always there, but never noticed . . . the sort of person who had far too many secrets. “What are you worried about?” he shouted into the trees. “I won’t hurt you.” He paused for an edgy second, then added, “I promise.”
He had caught Thara on the outskirts of the village, grabbed her by the arm, pulled her into the trees, but she scratched his face, got away, then took off into the impenetrable Theron wilderness—the wrong direction. She was only fourteen and wasn’t sure exactly what Sam Roper wanted from her; at the moment, it wasn’t important. She could make guesses, but did not want to find out if any of them were correct. All she knew for certain was that her instincts told her to run.
She burst through a thick barricade of shrubs, barely feeling the thorns cut her bare thighs and arms. In an open meadow, she came upon one of the weed-overgrown cargo-box shuttles that had been dropped down from the
Caillié
years before. The thick jungle had swiftly reclaimed its territory, and by now vines had crawled up its sides; rust and moss covered the outer plates. No one could fly the craft anymore; the engines had deteriorated due to neglect, but the cargo box’s hatch was partly open, and the dim interior had become a place for small creatures to make their nests.
Thara ducked inside, desperate for a sheltered place to hide. Armored insects as long as her forearm scuttled out in panic as she pushed her way in, knocking aside blown leaves and forest detritus. Avoiding the shaft of sunlight, she huddled against the hatch.
In the distance, she could hear Sam Roper still calling her, still taunting her. The man didn’t expect her to respond; he was just doing this to frighten her—and he succeeded. She covered her mouth and her nose to muffle her loud breathing. She drew her knees up to her chin and shrank farther into the shadows,
willing
him to go away.
“Nobody out here to help you, you know,” he called. “We’re too far from the village.”
She froze inside the dim, stifling cargo box, forcing herself to stay as still as she could, but she trembled uncontrollably.
Earlier that day, Thara had groused about the tedious chore of climbing trees to harvest the succulent shelf mushrooms high in the upper fronds. Now she wished she were back there with her friends, her family.
Something told her Sam Roper never intended to let her go back.
“Ah, I see you found a private place for us!” He was outside in the meadow.
Suddenly, Thara realized she was trapped. This landed cargo box was not a fortress, but a cage. She heard Roper coming closer, saw his shadow block the light from the main hatch. If he caught her in here . . .
She found the secondary hatch in the roof, hoping the hydraulics still worked. She activated it, and with a reluctant hiss and scrape, the hatch cracked open and tore the tenacious vines aside. She reached up, caught the opening, and scrambled up onto the top of the cargo box as Roper yelled at her. Thara caught only a glimpse of him before she dropped down the opposite side, out of the old craft, and ran deeper into the trees—the giant, powerful trees.
The forests on Theroc were vast, dense . . . mysterious. In their five years there, the
Caillié
colonists had explored only a small fraction of the surrounding areas. The continents were covered with lofty “worldtrees,” a majestic, living network. As a young girl, Thara had always sensed something peculiar about the trees, something powerful, slumbering . . . not quite awake.
The forest grew darker, thicker, but right now, the man hunting her was far more sinister than this wilderness. As she left the cargo box behind, he burst after her with renewed energy, thrashing his way through the underbrush.
When she got far enough ahead of him, Thara climbed in among the upthrust roots of the trees, working her way through drooping fronds and dangling vines as thick as her arm. She knew she couldn’t outrun him in the long run; she had to get to a place where he would never find her.
The thicket was impossibly dense, but somehow the branches moved aside, as if granting her permission to slip deeper into their embrace. Rustling vegetation masked the sound of her movements, and Thara worked her way into the labyrinth of roots and interlocked branches. Hidden behind a barricade of shadows, she crouched in the mulchy murk surrounded by root tendrils and a soft blanket of fallen leaves.
Through a tiny slit of sunlight, she watched a shadow move through a shaft of sunlight outside. A human figure: Roper. She saw his disheveled brown hair, his shining eyes.
The knife he held in his hand.
She bit her lip, and she wished she could keep her heart from pounding. Thara had to stay absolutely silent, and the forest helped her.
Roper stopped, looked around, and even stared directly at the thicket, but he didn’t see her. After a long pause, he trudged onward, calling her name in a singsong taunt.
When he was finally gone from sight, Thara realized she had forgotten to breathed, and she sucked in a huge gasp. Tears poured down her face. Her entire body shuddered. She held onto the branches and roots around her and fought back the sobs, feeling safe at last.
Just then one of the roots wrapped itself around her ankle.
At first, she thought she was imagining it, but another branch seized her arm. The fronds moved like tentacles, curling around her waist, her neck; one curled across her mouth so she couldn’t scream.
Thara fought against them, but the branches folded around her body like praying hands. One vine blocked her eyes. Thara couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream.
The mysterious forest enfolded her, bound her in its impenetrable mesh. She shouted in wordless terror, but the wild cry came out only inside her mind—
To be replaced by a flood of images, cascading thoughts so strange that she couldn’t comprehend them: Fragments from her own past, from the people of the
Caillié
, as well as ancient echoes of what had happened on this planet down through the ages.
The trees! The explosion of visions was coming from the trees!
Worldtrees!
The very ideas—never experienced by any human—seemed too intense to bear. The memory avalanche threatened to sweep her tiny identity away, yet deep inside Thara realized she was touching a sentience as vast as the forest that covered an entire planet.
What is happening to me?
Flashing through her mind, Thara saw forest animals, insects, human babies, thunderstorms, blossoming flowers, sunsets, shooting stars, a fall of rain, a giant and ancient tree toppling to the ground at the end of an immeasurably long life . . . Sam Roper’s knife . . . someone screaming.
Someone else
.
She was drowning in all the input. Her mind couldn’t absorb any more, yet the kaleidoscope of images continued as if the insistent forest were trying to share everything at once. It was too much!
Suddenly Thara understood that all those images didn’t have to be stored in her mind. Every experience, every sight, every thought, every moment of history was stored
in the trees themselves
, an interconnected encyclopedia of knowledge that had been gathered over countless millennia. The five years of experiences since human colonists had settled on Theroc were just the tiniest fraction of that incredible database.
Though still overwhelmed, Thara Wen was no longer frightened. She did not struggle against what was happening. Once she accepted it, the worldforest seemed to understand. The trees themselves granted her a benediction, then permission.
The branches and roots unwound from her body. They released her ankles, her neck, her eyes. She found she could move her arms now, and she sat up, blinking her eyes. The branches parted to set her free. She could walk away now, unhindered from the thicket where she had hidden.
Thara realized from the color of the sky that it was now dawn. She had no idea how long she had been in the thicket embraced by the memories of the worldforest . . . kept safe.
“The worldforest,” she whispered.
What did it do to me?
She reached up to run her fingers through her hair, and clumps of it came out in her grasp. Long, raven tendrils fell from her scalp and drifted down to the forest floor.
What did the worldforest do to me?
Gazing upward, she no longer saw just the scenery, the trees, or the underbrush—but the complete gestalt of the forest. And she saw much
more
.
It was all interconnected.
She brushed one hand over her head and face and realized that all of her hair had fallen out, including her eyebrows and eyelashes, leaving her bald, her skin smooth. And when Thara looked at her hands, she saw that the tanned skin was now a rich emerald green, as if all her cells had been impregnated with chlorophyll. She was smooth and green and strong.
She walked through the dark trees, heading back toward the colony village, no longer the least bit afraid of Sam Roper.
She understood the gigantic trees now. “The worldforest and I are part of each other,” she murmured. “Forever.”