Of Fire and Night (48 page)

121

OSIRA’H

T
he hydrogues know what we have done,” Mage-Imperator Jora’h said to Osira’h. “And we did not succeed.” The
thism
bond between her father and his son Zan’nh had already told him what he needed to know. “The Adar expended all of his automated ships, and I do not think they were enough. The hydrogues launched many more warglobes than the small fleet they specified when they explained their plan.” Jora’h bowed his head, gripped the sides of his chrysalis chair. “Far too many warglobes remain.”

Osira’h did not share her father’s sense of defeat. Not yet. In the days since coming to live in the Prism Palace, she had come to realize that, although she had fulfilled her ostensible mission in life by making contact with the hydrogues, she had never fully tested the extent of her powers. She knew there was more inside her than even Udru’h and the lens kithmen on Dobro suspected. She had faith in that untapped power, faith that she could draw strength from the abilities of her mother and her father, faith in the unique synergy between her parents—a loving synergy that had produced Osira’h herself.

“We are at a cruxpoint, Father. But all is not lost.”

Jora’h had already sent a signal, placing the warliners in orbit on high alert. Two maniples of warliners were descending at high speed, burning through the upper atmosphere to position themselves in front of the sixty watchdog hydrogue spheres. “I had hoped Tal Lorie’nh would reach Earth in time. Perhaps I should not have sent his warliners away from here.”

Osira’h looked up at the interlocked panes of the skysphere dome. No one could get there soon enough to intervene. Only
she
could deal with the hydrogues.

“The emissary is coming. He is very angry.” Strangely, Osira’h felt more anticipation than fear. She was actually looking forward to this.

The small containment chamber careened through the Prism Palace corridors like a diamond wrecking ball. The emissary smashed through a gateway, knocked down an arch, and streaked along the stained-glass halls. Ildirans scrambled out of the way.

Osira’h stood in front of the Mage-Imperator. “Allow me to speak to him, Father. It may be our only chance.”

“I should never have brought you and your mother into this trap.”

“Wait. An unwise hunter may be caught in his own trap,” the girl said.

Overhead, the warglobes were dropping lower, crackling with blue lightning. The Solar Navy defenders would never destroy the diamond spheres in time. Even if they did, the explosions and wreckage would level half the city.

The girl faced the furious emissary as he entered the chamber and came to a halt. The liquid-metal figure within had already formed into a human shape surrounded by swirling internal gases. An ominous voice thundered out: “You knew the price you would pay if you did not comply with our instructions, and yet you betrayed us at Earth.” Despite his anger, the hydrogue’s simulated expression did not change. “We will now obliterate your city, your world, and your race.”

With the grace of an Isix cat, Osira’h walked down the steps and stopped innocently before the containment sphere, undefended, nonthreatening. In her mind the bridge between herself and the deep-core aliens had never been completely severed, but she had closed off access in her mind, like slamming a gate shut. “Before you destroy us, we have vital information the hydrogues should consider.”

“What information?” the doubtful emissary said.

“A fatal weakness in the verdani, and a flaw you can use to annihilate the returned wentals.” Osira’h’s mother had explained many things she’d learned from her renewed link with the worldforest. “We offer this information to save our lives.”

“Tell us.”

“Only if you spare the Ildirans,” she said.

The emissary seemed taken aback by the girl’s boldness. “We will decide the worth of your information once we know it.”

Seeming to accede, she said, “I will communicate it through my mental bridge.” Her face went blank and, without waiting for permission, she opened herself in the way she had learned, reestablishing contact. The hydrogue emissary opened access to the bridge from his side. Good. His cooperation made her task easier.

Always before, her contact with the hydrogues had been accommodating, even subservient. Not this time. Catching them off guard, she smashed the narrow gate open wider with the battering ram of her mind. She felt no hesitation about what she had to do.

But she needed more. When the emissary recoiled in surprise from the power of her mental touch, Osira’h took a step backward and reached out for her father’s hand as he came down to join her. They touched and bonded. He was the center of all Ildiran
thism,
the Mage-Imperator, and her father. The bond could not have been stronger. Contact with the
thism
intensified her own specially bred abilities, and she became unstoppable. Blasting away all barriers, Osira’h
forced
the telepathic connection like a rape upon the hydrogue mind.

There was nothing the emissary could do. Osira’h was the bridge. She had to move swiftly, before he understood his true danger. Seizing his mind, the half-breed girl became a conduit through him to all the hydrogues in the sixty warglobes overhead. She crashed through their individual walls, pooled into their common minds. Osira’h instantly sensed their confusion, heard their demands, even detected a glimmer of fear at their inability to understand the unbreakable bond.

It was exactly what she needed.

Without releasing his daughter’s grasp, Jora’h drew her closer to him. More important, Osira’h knew that her mother had arrived as well.

Nira emerged from a hidden side alcove carrying her newly sprouted treeling, its fronds green and golden from the lump of worldtree wood. The moment the female green priest revealed herself, the alien emissary recoiled inside his environment sphere. He struggled desperately to disconnect the mental link, to close the gate that Osira’h had blasted away, but she held his mind fast, refusing to let him go.

With the treeling in one hand, Nira touched her daughter’s shoulder and connected through telink. As soon as Osira’h and her mother were united, the telink flooded in. Her parents acted as amplifiers, augmenting Osira’h’s power with the
thism
on one side and telink on the other. Osira’h, the bridge, now became an aqueduct through which the power could stream.

Nira set loose the worldforest mind.

The vast and forceful mind of the verdani—every ancient and knowledgeable tree throughout the widespread worldforest—surged like a locomotive through the new and unorthodox conduit. Osira’h let it all flow. The hydrogues could not stop any of it.

Thousands of years of verdani thoughts, resentment, and horrifying memories spewed into, and overwhelmed, the raw mind of the emissary—and soared through him to the warglobes overhead. It was as if she had planted and then detonated hundreds of explosives within the warglobes.

Together, Osira’h, Jora’h, and Nira moved closer to the containment sphere. Shrieking, spasming, the hydrogue’s shape dissolved within his chamber. The feedback hammerblow also destroyed many of the quicksilver creatures aboard the looming warglobes. The hydrogues were components of a shared species like the verdani, like the wentals. If the mental shockwave continued long enough, the force would eat away
all
of the hydrogues, even the far distant ones. The corrosive thoughts of the trees, their enemies, were poison to them.

The deadly thoughts shot outward, streaming toward the hydrogues overhead. The sixty diamond spheres reeled in the Ildiran sky. Blue lightning weapons discharged erratically, but most of the blasts went wild, firing off into the clouds. With sonic booms from their roaring descent to defend the Prism Palace, Solar Navy warliners plunged toward them—but the warglobes were already dying.

The deep-core aliens chose to sacrifice themselves and break the link, saving the rest of the hydrogues across the Spiral Arm. They forcibly cut the bond with their race rather than let the poisonous thoughts spread. Reeling out of control, warglobes tumbled out of the sky like crystalline asteroids. They bowled through the streets of Mijistra, crashed into the hills, exploded over dwelling complexes. The dying warglobes shattered ornate towers, leveled tall buildings, and killed thousands. Around them, concussions and flames and collapsing buildings created great havoc.

Osira’h could sense many of those deaths through her own partial
thism,
but she felt the end of the hydrogues more keenly. Tears streamed down the face of the Mage-Imperator as he endured so much death and destruction. But her father knew this also meant the liberation of his people. Osira’h could only hope the same thing was happening to all the watchdog enemy ships at other Ildiran worlds.

122

JESS TAMBLYN

B
efore he could reach his sister inside the alien citysphere, Jess faced an army of Ross replicas. The hydrogues could not have chosen a more potent image to use against him. He could think of no greater symbol of his failure and his heart’s betrayal than the face of his dead brother.

How had they guessed? How could the drogues possibly know about Ross?

Long ago, Jess had taken advantage of his brother’s trust, had fallen in love with the woman who should have married Ross. But now Cesca was wental-infused, like him. And Ross was
this
.

His hovering wental vessel had come to an impasse with the crowd of quicksilver copies that blocked his way from all sides. Ross stared at him.

How could they know?

From within the encapsulated ship, the wentals spoke to him.
It means nothing. They do not know you
.

Ross had been one of the very first victims of the deep-core aliens. The hydrogues must have copied his appearance. That was all. The hydrogues had used that image when their emissary had killed Old King Frederick.

Despite the doubts in his heart, his mind insisted on the logic. He’d been tricked by his emotions too many times—recently by the tainted wental that had reanimated his mother, and now this. How could the hydrogues possibly understand Ross’s significance to the man now leading a wental invasion into their midst? It couldn’t be so.

With iron-hard resolve, Jess shouted at Ross’s infinitely repeated face. “You are not my brother, any more than
she
was really my mother.” He clung to his love for Cesca and his hatred for the hydrogues. Tasia was down here somewhere, and he wouldn’t let this inhuman horde stop him.

Knowing what he had to do, Jess made his choice. With a single thought, he burst the bubble of his ship. Liberated wental water sprayed out like deadly hail in all directions. Droplets splattered across the quicksilver drogues with the force of burning acid, and the human shapes began to writhe and dissolve. The elemental mist engulfed the standing army and destroyed the hateful charade of Ross look-alikes.

Jess was alone now and unhindered, clear of the protective shell of his wental ship. Although he stood in the impossible environment wearing only his white gossamer suit, the water elementals flowing through his bloodstream preserved his tissues.

When he found his sister, he would have to re-form the protective bubble, create a new water ship. That problem didn’t seem any more insurmountable than the other hazards he had already knocked aside. First, though, he had to figure out where Tasia was being held.

Jess hurried through the confusing labyrinth of the citysphere. Far away, unaffected by the destruction caused by the wental droplets, other liquid-crystal hydrogues slithered through hollow structures, climbed monoliths, and entered geometrical grottoes. A new barrage of warglobes cruised high overhead, launching to the upper atmosphere.

Jess hurried. When faced with this crisis, how long would it be until the deep-core aliens disposed of their human prisoners? His sister and her fellow captives were somewhere in this geometrical nightmare. Were they being held as hostages, strange zoo specimens, torture subjects?

Then, with a lurch, the entire citysphere began to move. He felt the great mass slowly accelerate. Far outside the metropolis, a ragged line appeared in the swirling soup of sky, a vertical tear not only in the atmosphere, but in the fabric of space itself. The dimensional line opened, yawned wide like a gaping mouth to swallow the bizarre citysphere.

A hydrogue transgate.

Fear shot through Jess as he realized what they were doing. To shake off the overwhelming attack of the wentals, the deep-core aliens intended to abandon Qronha 3 and vanish to another one of their gas giants. He couldn’t let the hydrogues get away! They would take Tasia with them.

Then Jess felt an external exhilaration swell around him. A tingle rushed toward him like a fusillade of gunshots. Turning his head, he felt
something
outside streak past the citysphere like a bullet, a silvery spindle composed entirely of living water, directly on course. A wental torpedo. The cigar-shaped projectile dove in, plunging, tunneling.

As the yawning transgate opened, the wental torpedo struck the dimensional line, collapsed, dissolved, and detonated. The liquid energy exploded across the gateway. The opening dwindled, collapsed, and disappeared.

The giant citysphere rumbled to a halt in the gas giant’s atmosphere, throwing Jess off balance. All across the hydrogue empire, wental torpedoes were likewise disabling transgates, so the deep-core aliens could not join forces or flee the concerted attack.

Now the hydrogues had no way to escape from the Qronha 3 battleground.

123

KING PETER

L
eaving the Whisper Palace, they rushed into the dark and confused night. Peter and Estarra marched Prince Daniel so swiftly that the young man had no time to ask questions. OX led them out through a side gate, across a courtyard, past a statue garden, and finally to the main plaza.

Though excited at first, Daniel soon became skeptical, then suspicious. “If this is a coronation, why would Chairman Wenceslas want me to leave the Palace? That doesn’t sound like him.”

“He needed to find a safer place for you,” Peter said. “Remember, we’re under attack.” OX crisply marched across the flagstoned plaza, leading the way.

“But shouldn’t there at least be some celebration? Where is everyone?”

In answer, echoing air-raid alarms pealed through the dark city. Estarra pointed toward the extinguished lights throughout the Palace District, the rows of shadowy buildings. “Everybody’s hiding inside their houses, glued to their media feeds and hoping they survive. You can inspire them.”

Peter added with emphasis, “If the EDF and Ildiran lines crumble, then the hydrogues will lay waste to Earth.” But he knew that if he and the Queen escaped, there would be a strong,
new
leadership for all of humanity.

The Prince’s face became blotchy. “Then I might not be King for very long. Shouldn’t we get to shelter? A King should be kept safe, no matter what happens to Earth.”

“It’s just ahead, Daniel.” Peter tried to sound reassuring. “Right there.”

Illuminated by small emergency lights instead of great glowing banks, the hydrogue derelict sat outside like a trophy. Even the research teams had been evacuated. When Peter saw how many guards stood watch over the alien ship, however, he realized this was going to be more difficult than he had expected. Basil must have been paranoid that the hydrogues would come to retrieve their vessel. “Don’t they have more important duties right now?”

“It was the weak spot in the plan,” Estarra muttered.

Daniel saw their destination. “The derelict? Why are we going there?”

“Because that is where we must go,” OX said innocently.

Estarra dodged the question. “If Earth is under attack, can you imagine a more secure place than inside an armored hydrogue ship?”

Daniel was clearly wrestling with the question, not trusting them, but he had been slapped down enough times that he probably couldn’t imagine the royal couple having the nerve to rebel against the Hansa. Of course, that wasn’t how Peter interpreted what they were doing. This was for the good of the human race. “Right over here, Prince. They’re waiting for us inside.”

Estarra closed in next to Peter. They couldn’t show any concern now.

The guards warily raised their weapons. “Halt! No one comes closer, by order of the Chairman.”

“The Chairman? Shouldn’t you be more concerned with the orders of your
King
?” Peter said.

He felt the twitcher inside his pocket, a fully charged one taken from the fallen guards at Daniel’s doorway. Estarra looked at him, and he could read her expression.
Whatever it takes
. From the shift of her arm, he knew she was also holding her weapon.

Boldly leading Prince Daniel, OX continued forward. “You have no authority to stop King Peter, Queen Estarra, and Prince Daniel.”

Given time, Peter might have bluffed his way inside the derelict, but it was more likely the guards would contact Basil. He couldn’t risk that. As a flash of recognition and relief crossed the nervous guards’ faces, the King and Queen drew their twitchers and played the wide-dispersal stun beams across the five men. Taken completely by surprise, the guards began to spasm and twitch, unable to control their muscle impulses. Three of them succeeded in yanking out their own projectile weapons, but no one had a chance to fire.

Daniel gaped at the uniformed men as they all crumpled, his eyes wide and round. Whirling toward Peter and Estarra, he spotted the twitchers in their hands. His face turned an uneven red, and he couldn’t seem to find his voice. Peter saw the instant in which all of the young man’s suspicions clicked into place. Bawling for help, Daniel broke away and tried to run. Peter dialed the twitcher down to its lowest setting and fired a pulse at Daniel’s legs.

The Prince collapsed. The disruptive impulses ricocheted through his central nervous system. Even his back twitched. The Prince tried to cry out, but his voice was weak. His legs had turned to rubber, and he could barely manage to flop on the ground.

Now the derelict lay open and undefended. “Estarra, OX—we’ve got to get him inside.”

As Peter worked with Estarra and the compy to pull the young man to his feet, he noticed that Daniel had lost control of his bladder, wetting his loose pajama pants and the front of his robe. It was probably the least of the indignities he would suffer in the near future. Holding the arms of the twitching Prince, who continued to mumble incoherently, they hauled him past the stunned guards and into the alien sphere.

“Carry him up this ramp, and I will begin my preparations,” OX said.

Letting the compy lead the way, Estarra and Peter dragged Daniel into the derelict’s central room. The Teacher compy marched up to the hydrogue’s trapezoidal wall. “I have already uploaded all the information compiled by the research team from Deputy Cain’s datapacks, as well as relevant data from Chief Scientist Palawu and the Roamer engineer Kotto Okiah. This system functions very much along standard lines.” OX swiveled his head, and his golden eye sensors glowed. “I spent six hours completing a coordinate transform. Judging from a preliminary test the scientists performed yesterday, I believe it will work.”

“Is there a risk?” Peter glanced at Daniel, whose eyes were wild and uncomprehending. Drool dribbled from the right corner of his mouth; he didn’t have the muscular control to form words, though he made faint whining sounds.

OX stared at the alien coordinate glyphs, then turned toward the King. “No greater risk than in using any Klikiss transportal. Provided I have properly transformed the coordinates, I have selected an appropriate place to send him.”

Desperate to recover, Daniel twitched his arms, but to no avail. Peter and Estarra held him still, grunting with the effort. Peter doubted the young man could comprehend why all this was happening to him, but he decided it was best not to explain. “Don’t worry, I’m sure OX picked the perfect location for you.”

Daniel made a mewling noise as the Teacher compy attempted to work the controls of the hydrogue transportation system. After linking his own systems to the alien command deck, OX selected one of the coordinate tiles while busily reprogramming the unit. The transgate misted, shimmered, then grew ready. “I have been successful. You may send him through.”

Daniel made a last uncoordinated thrash, but Peter and Estarra lifted him. When his wife winced with the effort, Peter hesitated, looking at her swollen abdomen with concern. “Maybe you shouldn’t be—”

“I’m not helpless, Peter. This is life or death.” With a silent count to three, they swung Daniel through the transgate wall. Peter hoped they weren’t accidentally dumping the conceited and ill-behaved Prince into a deadly environment, but he trusted OX. He always had.

With barely a twitch, Prince Daniel vanished through the flat barrier, swept off to one of the settlements claimed in the Klikiss colonization initiative. The hydrogue transportal wavered, then grew opaque again.

Peter looked at Estarra. “Well, at least one of us is safe—even though Daniel will never thank us for it.”

“I didn’t get the impression Daniel liked much of anything.” Estarra wistfully looked at the transportal as OX reset the systems. “Too bad there’s no doorway direct to Theroc. That’s where we need to go.”

The Teacher compy stepped away from the transgate controls. “No, Queen Estarra. For that, I will need to fly this ship.”