Eternity's Mind (69 page)

OK trudged in carrying a long cybernetic apparatus in his outstretched arms. Xander could see the adhesive straps attached to leggings, embedded flexmesh tendons and pulleys.

“Since Orli Covitz is so good with compies,” Terry explained, “I had her develop these for me. I think they just might work.”

Xander reached out and took the apparatus from OK. “What are they?”

“Compy leg augmentations. I can strap them on and be able to walk just like a compy does. I won't wear them all the time, because I can still get around faster than you.” He grinned. “But under other circumstances I won't need to hold OK's shoulder anymore, and I can go into gravity environments just like other people.”

Xander turned to the compy. “You knew about this?”

“Yes, Xander Brindle,” OK said. “He made me promise not to say anything. You yourself taught me how to keep secrets.”

“But I thought…” Xander said, then he burst into laughter, as did Terry.

“I believe they'll work out exactly as planned,” Terry said.

 

CHAPTER

133

MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA'H

He had not seen shadows in his dreams for days, and Jora'h knew that the Shana Rei were indeed gone from the universe. He still felt incredibly weak from having nearly bled to death, but he had pulled through, thanks to the sacrifice of Gale'nh. At the critical moment, the Mage-Imperator was strong enough to call the faeros to the last battle.

And they had won.

For the first time in days, he felt strong enough to go to the skysphere audience chamber. Taking his rightful place, he sat in the chrysalis chair under the projection of his smiling visage on the mists overhead. Beside him, Nira rested her hand on his arm.

The Ildiran people had sensed when their Mage-Imperator was on the brink of death, and now they needed reassurance. For so long, they had lived with a shadow inside the
thism;
they hadn't noticed its debilitating power until it was gone. Now, the entire Ildiran race seemed revitalized. People of all kiths made the pilgrimage to Mijistra by the thousands, wending their way up the ellipsoidal hill to the Prism Palace. Just to see him. One after another they came forward to give him their good wishes, to reaffirm their loyalty, or perhaps just to see with their own eyes that he was still alive and well.

Gale'nh had also recovered, and he stood proudly in his fine Solar Navy uniform next to Muree'n and Yazra'h. Nira's son was as strong as she claimed he would be. He had clung to life and helped pull Jora'h back. Osira'h was still on Theroc with the recovering Prince Reynald, but she had contacted her mother through the green priests.

After the battle in the Fireheart nebula, Nira had only three children now, but Jora'h would honor Rod'h and Tamo'l, knowing what they had done, how their sacrifice was one of the most important death blows to the creatures of darkness.

That shock had thrummed through Gale'nh, nearly killing him as he recovered from giving so much of his blood. As the doctors struggled to save him from that terrible setback, Muree'n had also stumbled into the medical center, looking weak and shaken. She had grabbed the medical kithmen. “Take my blood, give it to my brother. We have to share strength.” And the doctors had drained as much from her as they needed to stabilize Gale'nh, strengthening him, saving him.

Now in the audience chamber, Nira rested her hand on Jora'h's arm. She leaned close to whisper, “Thank you for helping to save us all. Rod'h and Tamo'l know how much we appreciate what they did—I can sense it.”

She had been connected to the verdani mind, listening to reports, when Rod'h had uttered his last mental outcry. Though telink rarely let her connect with her halfbreed children, this time she had sensed him and Tamo'l. They had been her children, after all. Nira had been quite shaken by the experience, but also glad that she'd had a last moment of contact. She believed that Rod'h and Tamo'l had sensed her for the briefest fraction of a second before the faeros engulfed them.…

Now the shadows were gone. The Ildiran people would not transform into mindless killers—nor did Jora'h have to worry about the corruption inside himself. He shuddered to recall what he had done in the banquet hall.

But that blackness was behind him now, and the seven suns shone bright in the skies of Ildira.

Many pilgrims insisted on providing a small sample of their blood to be added to the Mage-Imperator's next transfusion. As the nexus of the entire race, Jora'h could receive blood from any Ildiran of any kith. They all wanted to help, and as a symbolic gesture, he ordered that every one of the samples (after testing pure) be mixed together in a large sample, and he would take it into his veins to reaffirm himself to all of his people. His blood flowed through the entire Ildiran race, and now they would know that their blood flowed in him as well.

The Ildiran Empire was strong, as Jora'h was strong.

A lens kith pilgrim bowed before the dais. “Thank you, Liege. Thank you!” Then he moved away, and a miner female took his place; she, likewise, bowed and expressed her gratitude. They needed to say it, and he didn't ask them to explain.

Then a murmur of alarm and excitement rippled through the court, and Jora'h felt an ominous thrum through the
thism.
Looking up, he saw the light brightening overhead through the skysphere dome.

Prime Designate Daro'h drew in a quick breath, pointing upward. “It is the faeros! The faeros have come back.”

This time, though, Jora'h felt no panic or dismay. He could sense that the fiery elementals had not come here to destroy. “Let us go to the rooftop. We need to thank them.”

Reaching the top of the Palace, they watched a parade of fireballs come down like shooting stars. The faeros swirled overhead, circling the Prism Palace like ignited comets. The Ildirans gasped, and Jora'h raised his hands in acknowledgment. The flaming ellipsoids rippled past, making the air shimmer with their heat. Their erratic patterns seemed to salute the Mage-Imperator.

Jora'h could no longer control the elementals, of that he was certain. The faeros did not wish to remain connected with the Ildiran Empire. They could return to live inside their suns, never needing to come out. Now that the Shana Rei were firmly defeated, the fiery elementals were safe, as was the rest of the Spiral Arm.

The people stared in awe as the sky filled with fireballs. The rememberers drank in the sight, as if deciding which words they would use to record this in the Saga of Seven Suns. Anton Colicos was with them, and his eyes sparkled. “This will make an excellent story,” he said, then paused to consider. “In fact, all of this will. I have a lot of writing ahead of me.”

The faeros hovered in silence, as if communicating, and then they streaked away, leaving smoky vapor trails crisscrossing the sky.

Out in the open air, Jora'h took Nira's hand. “We should hold court up here, where the whole universe can see us.”

Soon, with much assistance from medical escorts, Chiar'h and Shawn Fennis came up to join the Mage-Imperator, leading the misbreeds that had been rescued from Kuivahr, in all their shapes and forms. “We know what Tamo'l did at the end,” Chiar'h said. She had many bandages on her face and arms.

“We all know what she and Rod'h accomplished, and I also know what the misbreeds did,” said Jora'h. “You will all be honored for your part in helping to win this war. You awakened Eternity's Mind, and that force was instrumental to defeating the Shana Rei. We are grateful for you as well. All of you.”

Nira added, “If there is anything you need, any request you'd like to make of the Mage-Imperator, he will grant it.”

“We already have what we need,” said Shawn Fennis.

“Then there is one thing I would ask of you,” Jora'h said, looking at the group of misbreeds. He saw their mismatched genetics, their odd adaptations, and although he remained sad for the breeding program that had created them, he was not disappointed that they existed. They had much to share.

“How can we help, Liege?” asked Har'lc, one of the most hideously deformed misbreeds. His skin was a canvas of rashes and peeling patches. “We will serve, if we are able.”

“I know you are able,” he answered with a smile. “I would ask Mungl'eh to sing, and all of you to sing. I already know how beautiful it sounds, but the rest of our people should hear it.” He looked over at Nira. “It will move you.”

“I do so with great pleasure,” Mungl'eh said. The other misbreeds joined her.

The woman's misshapen face formed into what was clearly a grin. With her voice that could—and did—change everything, she and the other misbreeds sang a song of joy to the Mage-Imperator.

 

CHAPTER

134

ZHETT KELLUM

It was exhilarating to feel the wind on her face and stirring her long black hair. Zhett drew a breath, inhaling the scents of odd chemical mixtures that wafted from the cloud layers below. She extended her arms to either side, splayed her fingers to revel in the infinite sky.

“Enjoying yourself, I see,” Patrick said.

She closed her eyes and turned slowly around. “Absolutely.” The wind picked up, whistling around the upright antennas that studded the dome of the cloud harvester. On the underside of the structure, kilometers-long whisker probes snaked down into different layers of the cloud deck, analyzing and sending signals to guide the skymine where the ekti concentration was heaviest.

Patrick came up from behind and slipped his arms around her waist. They stood close in a hug. “I can't let you fall.”

“I don't think I was at risk,” she said as she snuggled up against him, “but you're welcome to keep holding me steady.”

A noisy skimmer zoomed out and around the cloud harvester, an airbike that did tricky barrel rolls and loops in the sky. Zhett recognized Kristof flying the thing. “Those stunts are completely unnecessary.”

“And dangerous,” Patrick added. “But you have to admit, he's good at it.”

Kristof swooped along, then dove at a steep angle into the clouds, where he disappeared into the mists.

“I was better at his age,” she said. “We should make him keep practicing.”

“That won't be difficult.”

A cargo ship came in with goods they had ordered from the various Roamer clans, then dispatched here to the gas giant Qhardin, where the Kellums had set up their new cloud harvester.

Del Kellum came up to the rooftop, interrupting their quiet moment, as Zhett had known he would. She knew to relish every bit of peace with her husband, but there was also business to be done. “He says he won't extend our credit, by damn!” said Del. “Who does he think he is?”

“A conservative businessman, probably,” Patrick said.

“Our credit's been stretched to the breaking point, and it's been tied and reknotted.” Zhett turned to follow her father. “I'll have words with him. We need another month before this skymine is producing surplus ekti.”

Del snorted. “The man says with ekti prices so low, it'll take us five generations to harvest enough fuel to pay off the debts we've already incurred!”

“He should go back to Academ and see if Jess and Cesca are still teaching math. Any fool knows that the Confederation's stockpiles will run out soon enough, now that we've stopped harvesting bloaters. Half of the clans had already given up skymining, and now they'll have to ramp up fast again.” Zhett was starting to feel annoyed. “But
we're
ahead of the game. This skymine will be one of the first to bring regular ekti to market.”

Del snorted. “I'm inclined to tell him just to take his cargo and fly somewhere else.”

“Let me talk with him first before you have a tantrum, Dad.”

Patrick made a wry smile. “Well, that's it, then—how could anyone ever say no to her?”

Del commiserated. “You know my daughter as well as I do. You better go along, too, Patrick—just in case she needs backup.”

Zhett sniffed. “You think I can't handle it myself?”

Del shrugged. “No, I just wanted your husband to think he was useful.”

After helping to spread the news about the bloaters and Eternity's Mind, Del had overseen the dismantling of the Kellum ekti-extraction operations out beyond Ikbir, but they had already harvested enough stardrive fuel that Zhett and Patrick sold it at Newstation for a decent price. Then they'd tracked down the surviving members of clan Duquesne.

A few months ago, Aaron Duquesne had come to their distillery on Kuivahr, trying to unload his family's cloud harvesters; he claimed they wanted to get out of the skymining business. At the time, the Kellums were content running their quiet but modestly successful brewing operations, and Zhett had seen how Iswander Industries was able to produce stardrive fuel far more cheaply than any traditional Roamer operation. Zhett missed their Golgen skymine and had been sorely tempted to make the business deal, but the prospect of competing against Iswander seemed a sure road to bankruptcy.

Not long afterward, though, they had lost the Kuivahr distillery, too, so they were no better off.
Circumstances beyond our control.
When the family jointly decided to go back into traditional skymining, Del remembered that the mothballed clan Duquesne skymines were still on the market. They had scraped together enough investors and a down payment to purchase the old cloud harvester. Now the Kellums were established again on a new gas planet.

Zhett knew this was where she belonged. The Kellums were meant to do skymining. This was where she felt most at home.

As she and Patrick followed her father down from the upper observation deck, her mind was preoccupied with business concerns. Ready for a debate with the intractable trader, she considered arguments about the increasing price of ekti, the significant investments she had here, the historic reliability of clan Kellum—no, scratch that, she thought. She didn't want to call attention to how many businesses they had operated and how many disastrous failures they had suffered (through no fault of their own).