Hidden Empire (55 page)
“Bastards,” Lanyan said.
Basil shook his head. “There are so many skymines, General, countless uninhabited systems. The Hansa’s appetite for ekti is
voracious—so how can we complain about their industry? Who could keep track of where all the facilities might be? No one has
had the incentive before, since the Roamers keep delivering the stardrive fuel that we desperately need. They don’t overcharge
us, and thus we don’t ask questions.”
No one had ever imagined that the seemingly aloof and disorganized space trash might in fact be part of a large hidden civilization
in the back corners of the Spiral Arm. It reminded Basil of swarms of cockroaches living all unseen within the cracks of a
dwelling. “Roachers” seemed an appropriate term for them.
“Perhaps the skymine facilities should be nationalized,” Lanyan said. “Military necessity, emergency powers act. Order them
all to be placed under Hansa control and allow us to impose order. The alien attacks could serve as an effective excuse.”
Basil laughed. “Impossible, General. Completely impossible. And if we provoke the Roamers in that way, they might well embargo
all the ekti. They’re the ones holding the cards, not us.”
“How about EDF spy ships? We could dispatch reconnaissance vessels, look for Roamer skymines.”
“Across the whole Spiral Arm, search for floating factories on every gas planet? Is
that
where you recommend we expend our efforts, General? The few unrecorded facilities we might discover would be an insignificant
percentage, and then we’d have to take them over, occupy the facilities, and run them ourselves.
That
, General, would be an unwinnable strategy.”
Lanyan took the broad-winged glider higher, then cruised back toward the main base. They had seen enough troop demonstrations
for the day.
“At the very least,” the General said, his voice showing that he had taken the time to consider his suggestion, “we could
use the crisis to call for a full census of the Roamers. Under the guise of offering to protect their skymines, we could flush
them out into the open. That data could prove very useful.”
Basil refused, for now. “Their Speaker Okiah is a clever old woman. She would see through the ruse immediately. The alien
attackers are our primary concern, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize our steady flow of ekti.” He pursed his lips.
“However… I will impose price restrictions, so that the Roamers can feel the effects of this war in their credit accounts
as well.”
“It will be difficult enough to prosecute a war against an alien threat we don’t understand.” Lanyan did not appear completely
satisfied with the solution as he brought the glider in for a landing at the multiple domes of the Mars base. “The lastthing
we need is a wrench in the machinery from human beings as well.”
A
n emergency clan gathering had been called at Rendezvous. But the Roamer family representatives were in such an uproar that
even Jhy Okiah, with her decades of experience as Speaker, could barely maintain order.
Leaders of the various family groups sat on their designated benches in the crowded discussion chamber, jostling, talking,
shouting. The air reprocessors worked double-time to keep the atmosphere fresh and breathable, despite such an unusual number
of people. The food, air, and water resources of the Roamer gathering point were taxed to their limits. But Speaker Okiah
had deemed no other matter more important for their survival.
Jess Tamblyn sat silently on his designated bench, watching the proceedings, but deep in thought. He was now the official
head of the Tamblyn clan, at least the man in the best position to represent the water mines, though his four uncles worked
hard to keep the facilities running at peak production. Jess would rather be here. He had promised himself to show no weakness,
to do everything expected of him.
He drew strength from looking at Cesca Peroni, beautiful in the companion chair next to the old Speaker. She looked coolly
formal, a work of art, but Jess knew the fires inside her, the passions and the strength that she now directed toward protecting
and managing the Roamer people. And Jess would not let his personal feelings endanger the future of the clans. Neither he
nor Cesca could afford the slightest distraction now.
“We resolve nothing by shouting at each other,” Jhy Okiah said from the center of the chamber, voice dry but strong.
“We resolve nothing by sitting here and
talking!”
Del Kellum shouted back. His starship-construction yards in the rings of Osquivel were close enough to a brooding gas planet
that he felt threatened. “Shizz, Roamers were not meant to meekly accept our fates.” Other clan representatives stomped their
booted feet on the metal floors.
Jhy Okiah let them blow off steam. “Of course not. But doing the wrong thing might be worse than doing nothing. We will follow
the Guiding Star, but first we must set our course. At present, we have no information about our enemies or their reasons
for attacking us. We’re like a ship without a navigator flying at full speed through an asteroid field.”
Cesca moved to the Speaker’s side, her dark eyes flashing. She addressed Del Kellum directly. “Do you intend to shut down
your shipyards? Are you suggesting that we withdraw all skymines from every gas giant, just to be safe? When have Roamers
ever been safe?”
Grumbling, fists clenched, Kellum sat back down. “In truth, I don’t know what to do, by damn—not even what to suggest. But
we’ve lost four skymines already—another one just days ago at Welyr! A thousand people dead, maybe more.” The middle-aged
man’s chest heaved as he wrestled with his anguish. Jess knew that Kellum had spent years courting Shareen Pasternak, Chief
of the recently destroyed facility on Welyr.
“Yes,” the Speaker said coldly, “and my grandson Berndt was one of the casualties at Erphano. Just like your Shareen at Welyr,
Del Kellum. Don’t try to convince me of the cost.”
Jess watched the discussion. Everyone at the clan gathering felt as much horror and uneasiness as he did. Everyone wanted
to take direct and effective action … but no one knew what to do.
“Safe is one thing, foolhardy is another.” It was Crim Tylar, an ambitious blond-haired man who operated an old Ildiran skymine
facility on the gas-giant Ptoro. “Perhaps we should call a temporary moratorium on ekti harvesting, pull our skymines out
of the clouds until… until this is resolved.”
“Madness!” bellowed Cesca’s father, Denn Peroni. He owned a small merchant and cargo fleet of Roamer vessels. “Commerce in
ekti is the lifeblood of Roamer civilization. Would you have us sell cometary dust?”
Cesca said, “Ekti is vital to the Big Goose, as well as the Ildiran Empire. This crisis affects far more than just Roamer
business.” She looked pensive, eyes narrowing as she turned to speak with Jhy Okiah. “Is there a chance the EDF will mount
a strong response on our behalf? The Goose has no great love for Roamers, but if we threaten to stop ekti production, they’ll
know they must protect their source of stardrive fuel.”
Jhy Okiah pursed her wrinkled lips. The other Roamers had fallen silent, eager to hear her answer. “That may be asking for
worse problems down the road. Roamers have always avoided requesting Hansa assistance.”
Someone shouted, “When have we ever been able to count on them to do anything for us?”
“I, for one, don’t want to be in Earth’s debt,” grumbled Crim Tylar. “They’ll demand payment at the worst possible time.”
“Then our only other alternative is to protect ourselves,” Jhy Okiah said firmly.
“But how, by damn?” Del Kellum half-rose to his feet, then sat back, bouncing in the low gravity. “The Roamers don’t have
any military. We need the Eddies to fight the aliens.”
At the mention of the Earth Defense Forces, Jess sank deeper into his seat, concerned again about his little sister. He had
been obligated to send Tasia the message about their father, but she had her own responsibilities—did the Eddies have a stronger
hold on her than her clan? Her enlistment had been brash, but she had taken an oath of service. She couldn’t just ignore that
and run home to Plumas. No Tamblyn could. Jess knew that well enough.
He wasn’t particularly concerned about his sister’s ability to take care of herself. In fact, if she got into an altercation,
Jess felt more sympathy for anyone who stood in Tasia’s way. But he longed to have her back. Tasia’s bright personality, quick
wit, and sarcastic jokes would have been welcome on Plumas.
Even without Ross, or his father, or Tasia, Jess had to keep his clan business running. He would come through this, do what
was right. The one anchor point that allowed him to keep his sanity—his love for Cesca Peroni—had to wait. Indefinitely.
He watched Cesca, her olive skin smooth and perfect, her pointed chin lifted with pride and inner strength. The Roamers needed
Cesca even more than Jess did. Though his heart might ache, their love could endure whatever time was necessary until they
could be together.
Eventually, the Roamer clan gathering faded without resolution, like a dissipating cloud of smoke. Some of the family leaders
promised to relocate their ekti harvesters and stop all cloud-mining operations, while others argued that the attacking aliens
would likely be able to strike the facilities even in high orbit, so what was the use in withdrawing? Other clan members promised
to convert their private industrial facilities and orbital construction yards to the purpose of manufacturing new weapons,
if they could develop designs and plans fast enough.
Afterward, Jess came up to Cesca and said a brief, private farewell, but he was unable to speak the things weighing on his
mind. Their eyes communicated much to each other, but then other clan members came to argue with Jhy Okiah. Jess retreated
quietly to his ship and flew away from the bloodred sun of Meyer.
En route to Plumas, across the lonely black vacuum, Jess had all the time in the world to contemplate plans. He was certain
that with his knowledge and imagination, he could think of a way to strike against the silent aggressors, something no one
else had considered. He wanted to hit them where it would hurt the most.
Jess now had access to all the resources and facilities of the extended Tamblyn family. In spite of his plea for Tasia to
come home, he had plenty of competent deputies who could easily run the water-mining operations. Plumas had been self-sufficient
for decades, running smoothly, providing water and air and in-system fuel. Rather than pulling all of his clan’s resources
together into a defensive posture, Jess would strike against the aliens instead. He had an idea.
The enemy had attacked without warning. He would do likewise, a personal vendetta. Tasia would be proud of that.
The Terran military did not know where to start. Jess, though, sat in his cockpit, calling up the detailed charts Ross had
developed during years of surveying the Golgen system.
The aliens had shown that they had an interest in that particular gas giant. Jess would find the enemy lurking on Golgen,
if he looked hard enough.
And as he studied the other scattered asteroids and the diffuse cometary cloud that formed a halo around Golgen’s sun, Jess
decided he would use the star system itself as a weapon against the enemy.
His eyes gleamed. Ross would have applauded the bold, crazy scheme—and never questioned whether it would work.
E
ven with so much work to do, Nira could hardly concen- trate on her assigned tasks.
The Saga of Seven Suns
called to her, a magnificent and endless piece of descriptive poetry … but all the wonders of the Prism Palace and Mijistra—and
yes, the attentions of Prime Designate Jora’h himself—called more strongly.
After their afternoon of Ildiran jousting, Jora’h had politely but insistently asked Nira to dine with him. She knew Ambassador
Otema wanted her to devote hours to reading aloud stanzas from the
Saga
, and yet when Nira began to make excuses to the Prime Designate, his face took on such a look of open disappointment that
her heart felt close to breaking. So she had agreed.
