Of Fire and Night (46 page)

116

ZHETT KELLUM

W
hen all the Roamer ships were full of wentals from the living oceans of Charybdis, Speaker Peroni dispatched her squadrons. The planning and distribution had been complex, with so many target planets and a limited number of ships to do it. Zhett Kellum damn well expected to do her part.

In groups of twos and threes, the hodgepodge vessels flew to their chosen infested gas giants. The fourteen Plumas tankers, even the small cargo and passenger cruisers, were filled to bursting with wentals, enough to engulf the drogues in a massive, multipronged assault.

On target and on schedule, Zhett and her father flew their water-laden cargo haulers toward the first planet on their list: Welyr, a burned-out-looking gas giant where the rusty clouds reminded her of old bloodstains. Zhett’s father had requested this world in particular. He had a score to settle here.

“I took too damn long to ask Shareen to marry me, but we were planning on it—before the drogues, that is,” Kellum mused over the transmission line, sounding regretful. “Those bastards smashed her skymine right down there.”

“Oh, Dad,” Zhett said from her cargo hauler. She could barely remember her real mother, who had died when Zhett was very young. Her father had always been businesslike and independent, and Shareen Pasternak was also tough and stubborn. The two had made a perfect couple.

He continued, “Never had a chance to say goodbye. I’m glad to be doing this for all the clans—but by damn, this is personal for me.”

“Let’s send those warglobes packing and get on with our lives.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to strike the first blow, my sweet?”

She snorted. “There’ll be enough drogues for all of us, Dad.”

The two water-bearing ships dove toward the upper layers of the ruddy gas giant. Cargo hatches opened, spilling thousands of liters of energized water, and the freed wentals dispersed into the swirling clouds.

Cruising along, the ships roared above the misty layers, continuing to drop a rain of water elementals. When they were certain the task was accomplished, they ascended to a safe altitude. Peering through the slanted cockpit panes, Zhett watched rapid storm systems form as the wentals spread out from the seeded clouds like a flame front devouring dry tinder.

“If warglobes come after us now,” she said, “they’re going to run smack into spreading wentals.”

The Roamer ships had swung over to the nightside of Welyr. Zhett resisted the urge to spill even more water into the dark clouds. The wentals were already propagating swiftly enough. She could tell her father was anxious to move on.

“Save some for the next gas giant, my sweet,” he transmitted. “We’ve done what we need to do, and it’s time to head off to our second target.”

“Then let’s be off. Just when I was starting to have fun. Next stop, Osquivel—six hours away by stardrive.”

“Ah, Osquivel. Back to our old stomping grounds—to do some genuine stomping, by damn.”

Behind them, as they departed, the battle raged in the skies of Welyr.

117

GENERAL KURT LANYAN

T
he EDF ships and two cohorts of Ildiran warliners settled into a well-choreographed defensive pattern around Earth, just waiting for the hydrogues to show themselves. The far-outnumbered human battleships circled with ornate Solar Navy vessels both outside and inside the perimeter. More Ildiran warliners patrolled widely.

On the bridge of the
Goliath,
General Lanyan counted down the hours, simultaneously eager and full of dread. He had no way to guess when the damned enemy fleet would show up. Adar Zan’nh hadn’t been specific, nor had he revealed how the Mage-Imperator had gotten his information in the first place. The Ildirans were so enamored with stories, he wondered if they’d ever heard the one about Chicken Little.

Basil Wenceslas contacted him three times daily for updates. Though Lanyan reassured him, the Chairman still sounded uncomfortable about all the unanswered questions. The General answered reassuringly, “We’re fully staffed and as ready as we can be, sir. We may have diminished crews, but we’re capable of running our ships just fine without Soldier compies.”

The Chairman did not seem cheered by the information. “No surprise, considering we only have a fraction of the vessels we had a month ago.”

“I will inform you of any changes.” Lanyan quickly got off the channel. At least here in the home system, he didn’t need a green priest for direct communication. Besides, there weren’t any green priests available other than Nahton at the Whisper Palace. And according to the Chairman, Nahton had recently become intractable.

EDF Remoras circled alongside the much larger Ildiran warliners. Though the scout flyers transmitted greetings to the giant ships, the alien crews sent no response. Ildirans had always been standoffish; every EDF soldier knew that.

The fighter pilots extended a network of tripwire sensors farther out to the fringes of the solar system in hopes of spotting the approaching warglobes. Multiply redundant teams kept diligent watch, waiting for the invasion force to sweep in. All eyes were turned outward, looking into the deep interstellar distance for the earliest possible warning.

No one, however, expected the enemy to suddenly appear from
inside the solar system
.

At Jupiter, the gas giant nearest to Earth, the white and ochre cloud bands began to boil. Like a horde of barbarians, hundreds of diamond warglobes emerged from a hidden hydrogue base.

The first direct clash between the Earth Defense Forces and the enemy had occurred at Jupiter. There, hydrogues had utterly defeated the most powerful EDF battleships. Now the deep-core aliens came back through a transgate inside the giant planet—a back door, an undefended route into the solar system. Hydrogues emerged already inside the outer perimeter, already within humanity’s first line of defenses.

The asteroid belt shipyards were the first to report the disturbance. High-resolution extreme magnification imagers spotted warglobes streaming like a barrage of cannonballs up from the cloud bands. The initial warning came from a spacedock inspector. “General, the warglobes are coming, and coming! We’ve already dispatched the few fast-response ships we have left.”

Urgent alarms sounded on the
Goliath
’s bridge. The crew, already tense and on high alert, scrambled to their battle stations. Lanyan knew the few swift craft from the shipyards didn’t stand a chance. “Withdraw and do not engage!”

The shipyard pilots were space construction workers, and none of them had ever expected to go into direct combat. Now, facing the armada of warglobes, they performed standard evasive maneuvers. But after two blasts from the front line of oncoming hydrogues, the pilots’ transmissions ended in static.

The General issued orders. “All ships, withdraw from the outer solar system immediately! Get your asses in close—the drogues are already here!”

“General, what if this is just a feint?” said his exec. “What if even more warglobes are coming from outside the system?”

Lanyan looked over at him. “If that’s the case, Mr. Kosevic, then we’re all dead.”

EDF station ships pushed their in-system engines to their limits, swooping down toward the Sun with all possible speed. But as widely separated as they were, it would take hours for them to arrive.

Lanyan paced the bridge, knocking his fists together. “Inform Adar Zan’nh—just in case he hasn’t been paying attention. We need every possible defense close to Earth—
now
.”

On the tactical screens, the tally of warglobes already exceeded seven hundred, and more continued to stream out of the transgate deep within Jupiter.

Reinforced EDF hull armor was designed to resist known hydrogue weapons. Each gunship, Manta, and Thunderhead had a full arsenal of shaped charges, fracture-pulse bombs, carbon-carbon slammers, and intensified jazers. Even so, Lanyan doubted they had enough to do more than annoy an enemy fleet of such magnitude.

He gave orders to his helmsman: “Bring our defensive ring out to stand guard.” Admiral Sheila Willis acknowledged from her rescued Manta and flew to the forefront of the fight.

Ildiran warliners joined the EDF battleships as the human vessels pulled forward. Behind them came the second cohort of Solar Navy vessels; all told, they presented an extremely intimidating front. But the hydrogues did not slow as they rushed in, aiming at Earth as if it were a bull’s-eye.

The tension among his crew was palpable. Lanyan used the intership direct line, saying whatever words came out of his mouth, not bothering to think of how he would be quoted in the history books.

“Buckle in and get ready to meet the drogues head-on. If those ships get past us, they’ll destroy Earth and then go on to exterminate every one of our colonies. You know damn well that I might be asking you to fight to the death today, but
we
are the last line of defense. If we don’t stop the enemy here, there isn’t going to be a tomorrow.”

The warglobes tumbled relentlessly closer, looking like the spiked balls on the end of an ogre’s medieval weapon. Lanyan knew that his EDF was as ready as it could be. Every Remora had been launched. Mantas, Thunderheads, and various gunships swirled around like wasps trying to block a herd of stampeding elephants.

“Prepare to open fire.” Lanyan broadened the transmission. “Adar Zan’nh, are you ready?”

“I am here to do my duty.”

Seconds before the warglobes came within firing range, the Ildiran commander sent a silent signal to his ornate battleships. Nearly seven hundred warliners spun about in a precision maneuver as if they were all connected to the same puppet strings. Every one of the Ildiran vessels turned their weapons ports away from the hydrogues and aimed at Lanyan’s last-stand fleet.

In an instant, the Solar Navy warliners completely surrounded Lanyan’s ships. All of them.

“What the hell?” The General lurched to his feet.

Ahead, the warglobes slowed, dispersing to take up positions—exactly as if they had expected this to happen.

Lanyan ran to the communications console, opened a channel to the Ildiran flagship. “Adar Zan’nh, what the hell are you doing?”

It was a rhetorical question, though. General Lanyan knew a betrayal when he saw one.

118

KING PETER

F
our hours before dawn, Peter awoke to the sounds of urgent activity outside the royal suite. After Cain’s warning the night before, OX had stationed himself inside their locked-down chambers to keep watch in case Basil made his move before they could implement their own plans.

Estarra hurried to the balcony and stared out. The Palace District illumination banks switched off one by one. The brighter buildings dimmed like snuffed embers. Muffled sirens echoed through the streets. “Peter, all the city lights are going out.”

He and Estarra had known something was going to happen, and they had to be ready to move the moment they saw an opportunity. From out in the corridor, he heard running footsteps and shouted orders. The royal guards were on the move. “OX, do you know what’s going on?”

The Teacher compy said, “I have not been in contact with outside news sources, although this reminds me of when the first Ildiran septa arrived, long ago. The Earth government thought they were being invaded—”

“The hydrogues must be attacking.” Peter dressed quickly. Through the balcony window, the city’s normal glow had faded to an ominous darkness. What possible good would a blackout do in the face of a civilization-destroying hydrogue armada?

Captain McCammon and the guards normally stationed outside their chambers snapped brisk comments back and forth. McCammon knocked his maroon beret askew as he touched an embedded earphone to receive an update. He quickly dispatched three of his uniformed men.
“—and run!”

“Captain, what is it?” Peter’s voice was calm and authoritative.

The guard captain snapped to attention. “The hydrogues have launched an assault, Your Majesty—as we feared. The number of warglobes is even greater than we expected.”

“Will our perimeter ships be able to keep them away from Earth?” Estarra said.

McCammon’s skin looked pale and gray in the dim emergency lighting. “General Lanyan and the Ildirans are mounting a defense, but there seems to be some confusion. The Solar Navy warliners are not behaving as expected.”

The Ildirans? Nahton had told them what the Mage-Imperator might do.

“Has Chairman Wenceslas called for me yet?” He knew, of course, that Basil would never do such a thing.

“The Chairman is in the war room in an emergency council session. I’ve just sent your other guards to assist him.” McCammon and his fellow guard squared their shoulders and thrust out their jaws. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty. We can offer sufficient protection. Just the two of us. Loyal guards.” He seemed to be hinting at something.

Peter looked questioningly at the Queen. They would never get a better diversion, and the continuing confusion might assist their escape. It had to be now. Estarra gave a faint nod.

Peter slipped his hand inside his garments. McCammon had not noticed or commented upon the odd fact that the royal couple were wearing casual street clothes instead of their usual robes. Peter wrapped his fingers around the twitcher McCammon himself had given them in their escape from the poisoning attempt, hating what he had to do.

“Captain McCammon, I want to thank you for your service. You have done your duty well.” He struggled to keep the tremor out of his voice.

The praise brought a hint of a smile to the corners of McCammon’s mouth. Knowing he could never turn back, the King drove aside his regrets, thinking of his wife, his unborn child, and all the deadly webs Basil had woven. Peter had no choice. He truly had no choice. Their lives were at stake.

He pointed the twitcher at McCammon’s face. “I’m very sorry, Captain. But if my Queen and I don’t escape now, we’ll never have another opportunity like this.”

The astonished second guard fumbled for his sidearm, but the guard captain moved in a surprising blur, yanking out his own twitcher and blasting the guard. The other man crumpled to the floor. It all had happened so quickly! Peter hadn’t even been able to get off a shot. He looked at the fallen guard, still keeping his twitcher pointed at McCammon. “I don’t know why you did that, but we have to escape now. I’m sorry you’re in the middle of this.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” McCammon said. “You didn’t actually think I’d give you a functional weapon, did you?”

Peter glanced at the twitcher, wondering if McCammon’s claim could be a trick. Surprisingly, the guard captain extended his own stun weapon, butt first. “It is a good thing you managed to overpower me and stun me with my own twitcher. I’m sure I’ll be reprimanded, when all this is over.”

Peter looked at the original weapon in his hand—had it really been deactivated?—and at the twitcher McCammon extended to him. The guard captain glanced at the fallen guard. “Don’t worry about him. He’s one of the loyal crowd. I’ll have him eating out of my hand as soon as he wakes up—provided you and the Queen actually succeed in escaping.”

“What about the guards at the derelict?” Estarra asked. “And at Prince Daniel’s quarters?”

“Those are not my men,” McCammon said. “They are Hansa servants, through and through. You’ll have to deal with them yourselves.”

“We will,” Peter said.

“Make it look good,” McCammon said, then threw himself on the King, yelling. Instinctively, Peter fired the new twitcher, and the captain slumped beside his comrade on the cool, hard floor.

He and Estarra both looked at the two fallen guards. “Now I suppose we don’t have any choice,” Peter said.

“We never did. Let’s go.” She picked up McCammon’s limp arms. “Help me drag these men inside where no one will see them.” Working together, the King, the Queen, and the compy pulled the unconscious guards across the slick stone floor into the royal apartments.

Since OX knew the secret ways of the Whisper Palace better than any of them, the Teacher compy led the way. The Palace normally kept a quiet nighttime schedule with only a skeleton staff. Now, because of the alarms, many people ran through the dim halls. Fortunately, none of them paid attention to the King and Queen in their nondescript clothes.

At a brisk pace, OX rushed them through back corridors and service halls to Prince Daniel’s plush apartments. As the compy hurried them toward the doorway, Peter saw that five royal guards remained in position to protect Daniel—more than had been assigned to watch over the King and Queen. Either Basil didn’t trust Daniel, or he didn’t dare risk his precious Prince.

Edgy because of the alarms, two of the guards stepped forward. The King knew from his training that personal demeanor was as much a part of recognition as any costume. He strutted forward to address the guards. “What is this? Do you not salute when you see your King?” Estarra, obviously pregnant, completed the picture.

The guards snapped to attention.

OX walked briskly up to them. “We must see the Prince.”

“The Prince is asleep, and we have orders not to let him be disturbed.”

“This is an emergency, Sergeant,” Estarra said. “Your orders have changed.”

“The hydrogues are attacking! We must speak to the Prince immediately.”

Surprised and still suspicious, the guards looked at each other in confusion.

Unable to wait for their compliance, Peter raised the twitcher and blasted the front two guards. He spun to the third man as the first pair melted to the floor, but the stunner only sputtered. An empty charge pack already!

The remaining guards whipped out their sidearms. “That can’t be the King!”

A thrumming shuddered through the air. “Oh yes it is,” said Estarra. She tucked a twitcher back into her loose pocket as the last three guards spasmed and fell to the floor. She looked at Peter, smiling. “I took the other guard’s weapon before we left him. I thought we might need an extra one.”

He gave her a kiss that was not nearly long enough, then looked around. The corridors were empty. The doors to side rooms were closed. “Hurry! Daniel might have heard something. If he sees these guards, it will make everything more difficult.”

“Prince Daniel is a heavy sleeper,” OX pointed out. “I doubt he has the curiosity to investigate a noise in the night. Even these alarms.”

Several doors in the hall were locked, but OX used his compy strength to break the latch on a storeroom filled with unmarked boxes. The layer of dust implied that the room might well have remained unopened since the reign of King Jack. By the time they had pulled all five guards inside and closed the door, both Peter and Estarra were panting and sweating.

“The lock no longer functions. We must be gone before the guards revive,” OX said.

“Count on it,” Estarra said.

Peter opened the door to the Prince’s chambers and strode in with the Queen and OX behind him. “Daniel! Time to wake up. No time to waste.”

Tousle-headed and confused, the young man was already pulling a robe around himself. “Why did you disturb me? And who are—” He rubbed his bleary eyes and stifled a yawn. “You’re the King! What are you doing in my quarters? Where are my guards?”

“This is an emergency, Daniel. They’re guarding the Chairman.”

“What kind of emergency? Some sort of attack?”

“Yes,” Estarra said as kindly as she could. “The hydrogues. You’ve got to come with us. Hurry!”

“We can take you to the Chairman,” Peter said.

“Do you know what time it is?” He blinked, then stared at Estarra and Peter again. “And why are you two dressed like that? You don’t look much like a King and Queen. It’s an embarrassment.”

Peter gave the uncouth young man a meaningful look. “The Chairman’s in the middle of a crisis, and now he’s calling you to him. Haven’t you figured it out?”

From the blank expression on Daniel’s face, obviously he hadn’t. Peter continued, exasperated. “The Chairman has ordered the Queen and me to retire. He promised us a new identity and a nice, safe villa where we can live a normal life, but only if we leave immediately. The Chairman plans to crown you right now. From tonight on, you’ll be King.” He smacked his hands together, and Daniel jumped at the loud noise, unable to believe what he had just heard. “So hurry up!”

“The Chairman wants to crown me? Tonight? But I thought—”

“You know how he is when he makes up his mind,” Estarra said. “He decided this would be the most dramatic time.”

Grinning, the Prince hurriedly put on shoes. When he looked unsure about which clothes to wear, Peter gestured him to follow. “Don’t worry. There’s a full staff waiting to dress you. But you have to come with us right now.”

Not knowing what else to do, and very frightened about the consequences of not obeying orders, Daniel followed them.