Scattered Suns (11 page)

Chapter 18—TASIA TAMBLYN

As she reached the convoy intercept point in space, Tasia kept thinking about how this new assignment could easily cause friction. Even so, she didn’t regret her decision to take over escort duties for the new Roamer detainees taken from the Chan asteroids.

“Are you sure about this, Commander Tamblyn?” Admiral Willis had asked her as she packed up to leave the Mars training base. “You’re not likely to win any popularity contests. Those people won’t be happy to see a fellow Roamer wearing an EDF uniform.”

“Can’t say I’m happy about current EDF policy myself, ma’am. However, I can serve the detainees better than someone who might be more...gullible about the overblown stories in the media.”

The old woman had smiled with her thin lips. “You are always refreshingly frank and outspoken, Tamblyn. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“I’d rather see that the Roamer captives are being treated fairly, even if some clan members think I’m a Judas.” Tasia looked unflinchingly back at the steel-haired admiral. “Besides, anything beats cooling my heels on Mars. The moment there’s an opportunity for a real mission against the drogues, I want to be first in line for consideration.”

“You’re already high on my list for that, Commander. Everybody knows your abilities. But for the time being, this assignment is all I can offer. Make some lemonade.”

So Tasia led a convoy of personnel carriers to pick up the Roamer captives. She’d been shocked and angry when she learned of Admiral Stromo’s pointless raid on a bunch of undefended greenhouse domes—using her own Manta cruiser! That was adding insult to injury.

At the intercept point in space, Stromo dumped off the detainees and then went off to his next stop, the recalcitrant Hansa colony of Yreka. While escorting the flustered and unsettled captives to a Klikiss holding world, Tasia hoped to remain on the bridge of the lead carrier for most of the voyage, since she was reluctant to face the prisoners. What was she supposed to say to them—that she was sorry the Eddies were out of control?

It was a long journey.

The captives were sure the Big Goose would throw them onto some hellish penal colony where they’d be forced to perform slave labor. Once the convoy reached its destination, the captive Roamers would see that their situation wasn’t so awful after all. At least Tasia hoped that would be the case. She herself had never been to the abandoned Klikiss world of Llaro.

She could have taken the detainees to a closer planet with a transportal and shipped them through the gateway to Llaro, thereby saving the ekti costs of such a massive personnel-transport operation. But her ship was also loaded with supplies and heavy equipment for the new Hansa settlement there, so the plan had made sense to the EDF bean counters and schedulers, and Tasia knew better than to argue with bureaucratic logic.

En route, she kept to herself, though she frequently thought about going among the detainees to talk with them and give reassurances. She supposed, though, that that might only provoke them. No matter how many explanations or excuses she made, the captive clan members would see only a Roamer in the same uniform worn by the soldiers who had wrecked their homes.

She didn’t fraternize with her fellow EDF crewmembers either, and not just because she outranked them. They did their duties on shift, ate together in the mess hall, but generally treated Tasia with a cool formality due to her Roamer connections.

At least she had EA as a friend, even if she had to recreate their history and friendship. On the evening before their approach to Llaro, the small robot stood inside the commander’s quarters just off the bridge. Tasia dropped heavily onto her bunk and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “Now, I know you don’t remember any of this next story, so I’ll tell you in as much detail as I can. I won’t embellish it too much.”

“You would not deceive me, Master Tasia. I’m very eager to listen.”

She chuckled. “Your memory might have been fried, but my human brain isn’t completely reliable either. Okay, this is how I remember it, anyway.” Pausing to repaint the picture in her head, Tasia let out a long breath. For weeks now she had spent hours daily with EA, reminiscing, telling the little compy about all the times they’d spent together, recounting the adventures they’d had. Giving her a secondhand past was better than nothing at all.

Despite her reassurances of honesty, Tasia did in fact censor her descriptions. She suspected the Earth Defense Forces might be monitoring her room, eavesdropping on private conversations in hopes that she would let slip some important detail about the clans or their whereabouts. The EDF simply didn’t trust her. Tasia had given them no concrete reason to question her loyalty, but neither had she made any secret of how she felt about their offensive against the clans. Her superiors had stripped her of her Manta command, ostensibly to avoid placing her in an awkward situation “where loyalties might be conflicted.”

And indeed her loyalties were torn. Before the Osquivel offensive, she had secretly dispatched her compy to warn the Roamer shipyards that a military force was on its way. EA had successfully delivered her urgent message, but something must have happened to the compy on the way home, because when she returned, her imprinted memory had been wiped. Tasia sometimes wondered if the Earth military had triggered the fail-safe amnesia programming that all Roamer compies contained...

So now, when she recounted the compy’s life story for EA’s own benefit, Tasia used no names, no coordinates, no clues that might give the Eddies a lead to follow.

“I was nine,” she said, “and it was one of the most important days in my life. In your life too.” The compy’s glowing eyes remained fixed as EA listened with seemingly rapt attention. “My two brothers took us out in a boat onto the cold underground sea. Jess was eighteen, I think, and Ross was twenty-three. Our father wanted them to run the family water mines together, but Ross had dreams of building his own ekti harvester on a gas giant. Since I was so much younger, I didn’t spend a lot of time with them—they had responsibilities, and I was just a kid.

“I could tell that they had something special in mind. Ross guided the boat away from the ice pack, to colder water that wasn’t directly under the artificial suns in the ice ceiling. All four of us on a stable boat—including you, EA.”

“I am glad I could come along.”

She remembered the Listener compy sitting motionless, like a prim lady on one of the seats. Tasia, Ross, and Jess wore warm clothes, their cheeks pink from the chill. She pictured the frigid water—still liquid but barely above the freezing point. Reflections from the high cavernous ceiling and the distant sloping walls of the giant air pocket turned the sea a gunmetal gray.

“Ross took the boat out into the deep water, where we played a game. We ignited lightsticks, then dropped them overboard from different parts of the boat. We’d watch the lights sink deeper and deeper, until something ate them.”

“Ate them?” EA asked.

“Even under the frozen crust, quite a few creatures lived in the liquid waters, especially large primitive nematodes—soft, fat worms longer than my leg. The light from the sinking sticks attracted them like fishing lures. It was a race to see whose stick would last the longest. That day, I won.” Her eyes sparkled.

EA processed the information as if she were trying to recall the incident. “Were the worms dangerous?” Tasia was thrilled that the little compy was becoming interactive again.

“They never bothered anybody, not that I can remember. But I remember you were a little uncomfortable being out on the boat. You had fallen into the deep water once before, and we had a hell of a time rescuing you.”

“You have told me that story already.”

“Well, after the nematodes ate our lightsticks and the game was over, Ross turned to me and said, 'Jess and I both have important duties these days, kid. But just ’cause you’re our little sister doesn’t mean you get to spend every day doing nothing but playing.'

“And Jess said, 'It’s time you had a few responsibilities of your own, Tasia. Someday you might be running this whole clan. But we want to start you out a little smaller, by making you responsible for one thing. One very important thing. And we’ll see how you do.'” Tasia leaned closer to the compy. “Do you know what that was, EA?”

“You have not yet told me.”

“My brothers gave me
you
that day, EA. First you belonged to Ross, and then Jess sort of took over, but they thought you and I needed each other more.” Tears stung her eyes, and she was glad her compy could not decipher the sudden shift of emotions. “And they were right. We still need each other.”

“Will you tell me what happened to Jess and Ross?” EA asked. “Where are they now?”

Tasia’s throat felt sore as she swallowed hard. “That’ll be some other time, EA. Some other time.”

In nightmares for years now, she had tried to imagine Ross’s last moments in the high clouds of Golgen, his skymine falling apart all around him in the drogue attack. With Ross and her father both dying in rapid succession, Jess was the only one she had left. But, other than a brief message beamed to EA that their father had passed away, she’d had no contact from Jess since she’d joined the Eddies.

She had no idea where her brother was now. She wouldn’t know where to find him even if she had been free to do so.

What did the other Roamers think of her? Surely her volunteering with the Hansa military had caused an initial scandal among the clans. Her choice had been understandable when the hydrogues were destroying Roamer skymines, but now, with the Eddies attacking clan facilities, her people must despise her as a traitor. Had they written her off entirely?

Or worse, had they just forgotten about her?

Several levels below, the passenger decks were full of disgruntled Roamer detainees on their way to a holding planet. She could talk to them anytime she liked...whenever she got up the nerve.

Chapter 19—CESCA PERONI

Standing out on the dark and frozen surface of Jonah 12, Cesca felt colder and emptier than ever before. Two days had passed since the death of the former Speaker, and there was no longer any reason to delay.

She had hoped that some of the messenger ships might have returned by now, but the icy planetoid was isolated even for a Roamer base, and there hadn’t been enough time. No other clan leaders would be arriving to pay their respects. The dispersed outlaws didn’t even know about the passing of Jhy Okiah, and Cesca had no long-range vessels left to send out with the news.

As the Speaker for what remained of the clans, she had to do this herself now. Old Jhy Okiah had long planned for such a time, had tried to prepare her protégé. No one could have given Cesca better advice, but even so, she was in uncharted waters. She would rise to her obligations; Roamers always found a way to get through tough situations.

Dozens of workers suited up and joined Cesca outside the habitation domes. The Jonah 12 personnel had ceased their ice-excavating and hydrogen-distillation activities, and all but the most distant ground rover teams had returned to base. The group trudged away from the complex and the small power reactor so they could attend the old Speaker’s funeral.

On a flat stretch of ice far enough away to minimize any hazard to the domes, railgun launchers regularly shot canisters of concentrated hydrogen up to the automated ekti reactors. Now, though, one launcher’s trajectory had been altered to send a special package on an endless journey out to deepest space.

Sixty of the workers gathered in respectful silence and stood together in cold shadows. Behind them, the warm yellow beacons from the base domes provided a welcome contrast to the stark whites and grays of the outer landscape shrouded in low-lying methane fog.

Cesca stood next to the wrapped package that held the old woman’s body, feeling both lightheaded and incredibly heavy at the same time. Making sure that the suit’s comm was off, she spoke quietly, as if Jhy Okiah could somehow hear her. “I hope you continue to think well of me even now that the Roamer clans are in far worse shape than they have ever been. Our people deserve nothing less than my best, so I’ll use what you’ve taught me to find a solution.” She squeezed her hand into a tight fist in the insulating glove of her suit. “Somehow.”

Left in charge of the base, Purcell Wan busily checked the launcher, ensured that the wrapped body was ready for its final interstellar journey. The railgun was a simple reaction-mass system that could lob containers far from the small planetoid’s gravity. “I increased the power and the range, Speaker Peroni. It’ll easily provide escape velocity. Jhy Okiah will go far, far from here, out in space where she belongs.”

Since he couldn’t see her nod behind the shadowed faceplate, Cesca acknowledged verbally. She drew a deep breath to compose herself before she flicked on the suit’s line-of-sight comm so she could address all of the gathered Jonah 12 workers.

“We are Roamers, all of us,” she announced aloud, struggling to remember the words she had tried to rehearse. “We have always been independent, exploring places where no one else would look, making lives for ourselves in the face of adversity. Jhy Okiah showed us how to do that. She led with her wisdom and by her own example. Her many children have succeeded among the clans, leading, working, and serving. Her youngest son established this very base.”

“I wish Kotto could be here,” Purcell groaned. “He doesn’t even know about his mother.” Murmurs of acknowledgment echoed across the communications systems.

Cesca added her own affirmation. “In her last words, the former Speaker said she could see her Guiding Star. Her spirit has flown on its final journey. Now let her body also soar free. Jhy Okiah will become an eternal roamer among the stars, forever drifting from place to place.”

The rest of the memorized words failed her, so she stepped back, gesturing with a gloved hand. Purcell gave instructions to two of his workers, who operated the launcher. Lights flashed from shifting fields, and the tightly wrapped body moved down the long rails.

With a silent flicker of acceleration, the irregular cylinder of Jhy Okiah’s body sailed upward in a gentle streak. Its reflective blanket glittering silver, the body flew with enough velocity to snap the thin threads of Jonah 12’s gravity.

Cesca leaned backward so she could turn her faceplate to the black and starry sky. She wished Jess could be with her now. Where was he? Would he ever come back to her?

The shining trail of the projectile dwindled until it became nothing more than a fast-moving star among all the others in space. The panorama made Cesca recall all the other Roamers who had perished over the centuries in their quest to disperse across the Spiral Arm and find their own freedom away from Earth...a freedom that was even now being stolen from them.

She wondered where her father was. She’d last seen Denn Peroni working in the forests of Theroc. Did he know what had happened on Rendezvous? Roamers should know to gather at certain central points, such as Osquivel, Braddox, Constantine III, and Forrey’s Folly. Now, more than ever, their messaging and rumor network would need to serve to keep the clans connected. She reminded herself not to expect it to happen swiftly, though. Consolidation of the shattered government would take time, as Jhy Okiah had reminded her.

Standing beside her, the Roamer workers remained silent, watching. The weight of the loss hung heavy over them. They waited for Cesca to make the first move, but she didn’t know what else they expected her to do.

Before she could tell them to return to their tasks, one of the hemispherical grazers came toward the launcher at a rapid clip over the uneven ground. Normally, the lumbering vehicles merely crawled along, spewing steam and exhaust from digesters and distillers. But this grazer’s harvesting systems were turned off so that it could move in rapid mode. Maybe the driver had realized he was late for the funeral.

“Now what’s going on?” Purcell said. He and Cesca stepped forward to meet the harvester as it approached. “Whoever’s in that grazer, identify yourself. Has something happened?”

“This is Danvier Stubbs, vapor miner. I’ve been driving all day from the other side of this planetoid!” the message came back, crisp and clear. “Jack and I made an interesting find—it’s the damnedest thing. We need to get more equipment and prepare an official expedition. In fact, you might want to send an extra team or two, Purcell. The damnedest thing!”

Cesca interrupted, her voice loud and firm. The funeral had left her feeling unsettled, and she was in no mood for such vagueness. She expected that they had discovered a mineral-rich pocket of ores or some pure hydrocarbon veins. “This is Speaker Peroni. Please be specific. What have you found?”

The grazer crunched to a halt near the crowd at the launcher, spraying thin steam from its mobile treads. “Well, I sure can’t explain it,” the man said. He laboriously cycled through the double hatch, then raised his gloved hands in confused excitement. “We found
Klikiss robots
buried in the ice. A whole bunch of them.”