Of Fire and Night

Book 5: The Saga of Seven Suns

by Kevin J. Anderson

Genres: War & Military; Space Opera

Synopsis

The extermination of Earth is at hand. With his increasingly irrational leadership Basil Wenceslas, chairman of the Hansa, has driven humanity into a corner. His punitive treatment of the Hansa colonies and the Roamers as well as his refusal to aid an embattled Theroc have made enemies for the people of Earth. Enemies that the Hansa cannot afford. Not when Wenceslas is struggling against revolt by soldier compies, who decimate the military by stealing ships and slaughtering soldiers; and betrayal by the Ildirans, led by Jora'h the Mage-Imperator, who is secretly scheming with the hydrogues to annihilate Earth.

Now disparate factions of humanity must plan for their own salvation. Worldtrees allied with humans on Theroc have rallied hulking, thorny tree battleships. Roamers work with powerful water entities, the wentals, to seed planets everywhere with a growing force to challenge the hydrogues.

But when the final battle with the hydrogues is joined, who will aid the people of Earth?

Release date: October 1, 2006

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 544

Sample

THE STORY SO FAR

The ongoing titanic war between the alien hydrogues and the faeros had already extinguished suns and destroyed planets. Determined not to be trampled on the galactic battlefield, the various groups of humans developed new weapons and forged powerful alliances.

The Hansa, led by Chairman Basil Wenceslas, ordered the Earth Defense Forces (EDF) to employ more Klikiss Torches, the superweapon with which they had unwittingly triggered the hydrogue war eight years earlier. The EDF also built armored “rammer” ships for suicide missions, crewing each rammer with expendable Soldier compies and a token human commander (one of whom was the Roamer recruit Tasia Tamblyn).

On the homefront, repeated failures drove Chairman Basil Wenceslas to make impulsive, often damaging decisions. King Peter and Queen Estarra rebelled against Basil’s authority, which increased the animosity between the Chairman and the royal couple. When Basil ordered the Queen to terminate her new pregnancy because the unexpected baby did not fit with his plans, she and Peter leaked news of her condition to the media, through the secret assistance of Deputy Eldred Cain. With such an outpouring of public joy, Basil could not force the Queen to have an abortion, but punished her indiscretion by slaughtering Estarra’s beloved pet dolphins.

The spoiled and uncooperative Prince Daniel—Basil’s choice to be the next King—escaped from the Whisper Palace. After quite a scandal, the Prince was recaptured and forced to make a public apology. To keep Daniel from causing further trouble, Basil put him into a drug-induced coma, which unfortunately left the Chairman without a replacement for King Peter.

With the Hansa’s war against the hydrogues going badly, Chairman Wenceslas turned his military forces against the Roamer clans, using the space gypsies as scapegoats. One major assault destroyed the Roamer government center of Rendezvous, scattering the clans. EDF ships hunted down hidden Roamer bases and sent prisoners off to the abandoned Klikiss planet Llaro.

Speaker Cesca Peroni hid out on the frozen mining base of Jonah 12, where miners uncovered and inadvertently reactivated a nest of hibernating Klikiss robots buried beneath the ice. The robots went on a rampage and destroyed the base. After Cesca succeeded in obliterating the scheming robots, she and the young pilot Nikko Chan Tylar crashed their ship while trying to escape.

Meanwhile Cesca’s love, Jess Tamblyn—fundamentally changed by watery elemental creatures called wentals that inhabited his body—guided his volunteers to spread wental water across new planets. Along with the verdani (the worldforest on Theroc), the wentals were age-old enemies of the hydrogues, who had nearly exterminated them in an ancient war. By restoring the wentals, Jess created another powerful ally in the fight against the deep-core aliens.

Jess went to the water mines on Plumas where his uncles had taken over the business. Here, years ago, Jess’s mother Karla had fallen into a crevasse and frozen to death. Using his wental powers, Jess found and extracted her frozen body, hoping to give his mother a proper Roamer funeral. Delivering her to his surprised uncles in a grotto under the frozen crust, Jess began to melt the ice around Karla. Before he could finish, though, an urgent message alerted him to Cesca’s peril on Jonah 12, and he sped away. Finding Nikko’s crashed ship, Jess engulfed it in his amazing wental vessel and raced to find help for Cesca, who was injured and clearly dying.

The Roamer clans found other ways to survive. Cesca’s father Denn Peroni helped establish an independent trading base at Yreka, a colony cut off from all Hansa support and defenses. Denn also traveled to the Ildiran Empire and met with the Mage-Imperator to reopen trade, once again bypassing the Hansa.

In the rings of the gas giant Osquivel, Del Kellum and his lovely daughter Zhett ran a complex of Roamer shipyards. The EDF had recently lost a tremendous battle with the hydrogues there, and among the debris of the battlefield, Zhett found a small intact hydrogue derelict; her father immediately called the brilliant Roamer scientist Kotto Okiah to study it. Kotto learned enough from the derelict to develop a new weapon against the hydrogues: “doorbells” that would blow open a warglobe’s hatches. With his doorbells Kotto rushed off to Theroc, the likely target for the next hydrogue attack.

The Roamers also rescued a handful of EDF soldiers whose lifepods had been left behind by their fleeing fleet, as well as many sophisticated new Soldier compies, which were reprogrammed and put to work in the Osquivel shipyards. Zhett helped nurse the POWs back to health, paying particular attention to surly Patrick Fitzpatrick III; because of the hostilities between the Roamers and the Hansa, the POWs could not be sent home. Fitzpatrick and his comrades, including Dr. Kiro Yamane (a specialist in Soldier compies), searched for a way to escape. While romance grew between Fitzpatrick and Zhett, Yamane found a way to make the Soldier compies go berserk in the shipyards. As part of an escape plan, Fitzpatrick lured Zhett to a romantic rendezvous, tricked her, and stole a ship to get away while the Soldier compies created a diversion. The compies, far more destructive than Yamane expected, systematically detroyed the Roamer facility.

Fitzpatrick’s powerful grandmother Maureen was a former Hansa Chairman. After hearing that her grandson had been killed in action at Osquivel, she rallied the relatives of other fallen soldiers and flew to the ringed gas giant to establish a memorial. She was shocked to stumble upon the extensive hidden Roamer shipyards, now thrown into turmoil because of the unleashed Soldier compies. During a tense standoff, Fitzpatrick appeared and then angered his grandmother by speaking on behalf of clan Kellum; he brokered a cease-fire by giving the EDF ships the hydrogue derelict Kotto had been studying. As EDF ships took the POWs back home, Zhett and the other Roamers slipped away. Fitzpatrick doubted he would ever see her again.

General Lanyan, the frustrated commander of the EDF, wanted to make an example of someone. With dwindling recruits, he had no choice but to produce huge numbers of Soldier compies (all of them carrying Klikiss-robot programming modules) and to distribute them across the fleet. He was pleasantly surprised when a deserter—Branson “BeBob” Roberts—came to Earth bearing two survivors he had rescued from a devastated Hansa colony. The survivors, a girl named Orli Covitz and an old man named Hud Steinman, told a wild tale that marauding Klikiss robots and Soldier compies had destroyed their settlement. General Lanyan sent a team to investigate these preposterous claims, but he was much more interested in court-martialing BeBob for desertion.

The trader Rlinda Kett called in all her favors to help BeBob, but it did no good. The trial was a sham, and BeBob’s sentence was a foregone conclusion. To their surprise, though, the spy Davlin Lotze helped them escape. BeBob and Rlinda flew off in her ship, the Voracious Curiosity, while Davlin led the EDF pursuers on a wild-goose chase, faking his own death. Just when Rlinda and BeBob thought they were safe, they ran into a group of inept Roamer “pirates” at the ice moon Plumas. Rlinda and BeBob’s ship was seized, and they were held in the water mines while the Roamers figured out what to do with them.

When he’d gone to rescue Cesca, Jess Tamblyn did not realize that he had unwittingly dispersed a corrupted spark of wental energy into his mother’s partially thawed body. Karla came alive, but was no longer human. Offhandedly killing one of Jess’s uncles, she began to move toward the others, while Rlinda and BeBob watched in horror.

On Theroc, the recovering worldforest created a wooden golem of the green priest Beneto to act as a spokesman and to prepare the worldtrees for another hydrogue attack. Beneto’s sister Sarein, the Hansa ambassador, arrived on behalf of Chairman Wenceslas, secretly hoping to become the new ruler of Theroc. When she did not succeed in that plan, she convinced green priests to spread among the orphaned Hansa colonies and establish a communications network.

When the hydrogues did arrive at Theroc, hoping to destroy the worldforest, unexpected allies came to stand against the enemy: Kotto Okiah destroyed many warglobes with his new “doorbell” weapon. And a living comet infused with wentals crashed into the hydrogues, finally defeating them. Though they were driven off, the hydrogues now knew that the supposedly extinct wentals had returned to the fight. In the aftermath, the golem of Beneto received an awesome armada of spacefaring “verdani battleships”—huge thorny trees intent on defending the worldforest.

Meanwhile, the insidious Klikiss robots worked their quiet plans for conquest. When Admiral Stromo went to Orli Covitz’s devastated colony world, following up on the survivors’ reports, he uncovered evidence that robots were indeed responsible for the massacre.

Tasia Tamblyn, responding to an ongoing hydrogue attack on a Hansa skymine at Qronha 3, led the sixty compy-crewed rammer ships. The boss of the skymine, Sullivan Gold, evacuated his people and also rescued a great many Ildirans from a nearby facility. Before Tasia’s rammers could arrive, Sullivan was already flying away with the Ildirans, and they were intercepted by Solar Navy ships. When Tasia’s rammers finally reached the gas giant, the Soldier compies turned on her and captured Tasia and her personal compy EA. Joining with Klikiss robots, they seized the rammer fleet for themselves and intended to use the ships against humanity.

Klikiss robots had also attacked the few people remaining on the Ildiran resort world of Maratha. The scholar Anton Colicos, his friend Rememberer Vao’sh, and a small group found themselves stranded on the nightside of the planet, facing a long overland journey. Not knowing the robots were the culprits, the ragtag band of Ildirans blamed mythical creatures called the Shana Rei, which were the subject of many tales in the Saga of Seven Suns. When Anton and his companions reached the supposed refuge of Secda, they found it overrun with armies of Klikiss robots. Anton and Vao’sh barely escaped in a small ship and flew away, alone. But for Ildirans, solitude leads to madness. During their long flight to Ildira, Anton tried to keep Vao’sh occupied, but the old rememberer degenerated into a near-mindless state by the time they arrived. Safe in the Prism Palace at last, Anton tried to nurse his friend back to health.

The Ildiran Empire, meanwhile, was rocked by a civil war led by Hyrillka Designate Rusa’h and the Mage-Imperator’s own son Thor’h. After suffering a head injury, Rusa’h was cut off from the telepathic thism that bound their race together. Filled with delusions of grandeur, he created an independent thism web and spread a bloody rebellion, forcing other Designates to surrender and accept his brainwashing. Adar Zan’nh brought a group of Solar Navy warliners to quell the revolt, but those ships also fell under the mad Designate’s control, and Zan’nh was taken prisoner.

When Rusa’h tried to convert his devious brother Dobro Designate Udru’h, he thought he had found a willing partner. Leaving the impressionable young Designate-in-waiting Daro’h in charge, Udru’h set up a trap and a betrayal that led to Rusa’h’s downfall and the end of his rebellion. Hyrillka was recaptured by Mage-Imperator Jora’h, and the traitorous Thor’h was seized. But the mad Designate fled, flying directly into Hyrillka’s primary sun. In the last moment before Rusa’h’s ship was consumed, a group of flaming faeros rose up and surrounded him, carrying him into the star.

The faeros and hydrogues continued their constant war, smothering one of the seven suns of Ildira. Now was the time for the Mage-Imperator to try his special “weapon”—his own half-breed daughter, Osira’h. With the girl’s special telepathic powers, Jora’h hoped she could call the hydrogues and get them to reaffirm an ages-old nonaggression agreement. Osira’h, who had learned the truth of Dobro’s human-Ildiran breeding program from her green priest mother Nira, experienced mixed loyalties and confusion, not sure whom to believe. Still, she did her duty and rode in a protective chamber down into Qronha 3 to communicate with the hydrogues.

Back in Ildira, with the civil war over, the Mage-Imperator was shocked when Udru’h revealed that Jora’h’s beloved Nira was alive after all. Still in love with the green priest, the Mage-Imperator demanded that she be freed and returned to him at once. But when Udru’h went to the island on Dobro where he’d kept Nira prisoner, he discovered that the green priest had escaped and was nowhere to be found! Before Jora’h could learn this, though, Osira’h returned to Ildira with a huge armada of hydrogue warglobes, all of them looming over the Prism Palace. Now Jora’h had to face the hydrogues, knowing that if he failed to make a convincing case, the deep-core aliens would destroy his entire world.

1

KING PETER

A heavy transport bearing the Earth Defense Forces logo settled onto the Whisper Palace plaza to the sound of cheering almost loud enough to drown out the landing jets. An honor guard carved a safe corridor through enthused spectators toward the shuttle and laid down a purple carpet for King Peter and Queen Estarra.

Taking steps in perfect synchronization with hers, the young King spoke from the corner of his mouth so none of the professional eavesdroppers could hear. “I so rarely get to announce good news that isn’t an outright lie.”

Well aware that Chairman Basil Wenceslas was watching and ready to respond if they made the slightest wrong move, Estarra answered with equal caution. “We’ve had to report the deaths of soldiers far too often. Greeting genuine returning heroes is a vast improvement.”

No one had expected to find EDF soldiers alive this long after the battle of Osquivel; the missing men and women had been presumed killed by the alien hydrogues. Now, blinking in the Palace District’s sunshine, thirty survivors hurried down the debarkation ramp, jostling each other as if they couldn’t wait to drink in the air of Earth. All of the smiling refugees wore new uniforms provided by the rescue crew. According to reports, they had immediately ejected the clothing given to them by their Roamer captors (or was it “hosts”? Peter wondered) out the disposal chutes.

Barely able to contain the ecstatic mob, the guards let the corralled VIP relatives and selected loved ones forward. During the return voyage, former Chairman Maureen Fitzpatrick had transmitted the names of the POWs. Excited families bounced from one rescued survivor to another until, like puzzle pieces, the right ones interlocked with hugs, joyous shouts, and mutual weeping.

Despite this glowing reception, Peter knew the Hansa government was thoroughly embarrassed to find anyone there. The EDF’s clash with the hydrogues at Osquivel had been an utter disaster and a frenzied retreat. Many wounded soldiers were left to die aboard disabled vessels and unclaimed lifepods. But a band of Roamers had rescued some of them. Maureen Fitzpatrick and families of the fallen had gone to the ringed gas giant with the intent of establishing a memorial, and by sheer coincidence had encountered the Roamer shipyard and secured the hostages’ return.

Without question, many more soldiers could have been rescued if the panicked EDF hadn’t abandoned them. Once the heady celebration was over, people would begin asking questions. Basil, you certainly have egg on your face, Peter thought and realized that that was when the Chairman proved most dangerous.

Behind his eyes he saw a memory-flash of bloodied water, butchered dolphins, lifeless glassy eyes of the once-playful sea mammals: Basil had not reacted well to the leaked news of the Queen’s unsanctioned pregnancy. Peter could not get the smell of blood and saltwater out of his nostrils.

“Keep to the schedule,” Basil’s voice scolded from his tiny ear microphone. “This is taking too long.”

He squeezed Estarra’s hand and faced the transport, waiting for the main event. Sensing an even greater spectacle, the crowd grew quiet. The cargo doors cracked open with a thud and a groan, metal sliding against metal. Interior floodlights shone with a glow like banked fires. Soldiers and cargo handlers used lifting apparatus and gravity-reducers like wranglers transporting a chained prehistoric monster. A small hydrogue derelict.

Roamers had found the dead ship drifting in the rings of Osquivel after the great battle. Though this scout vessel was less than ten meters in diameter, the crowd drew in a near-simultaneous gasp of amazement and fear.

As lifters lowered the derelict to the ground, Maureen Fitzpatrick approached Peter and Estarra with her grandson, one of the thirty refugees, and shook the King’s hand as if he were a business partner. As a former Chairman, Maureen understood both how little power Peter truly wielded and the necessity of playing the game. “Sire, we had to let the Roamers escape in exchange for this derelict. I hope you agree it was an acceptable bargain.”

“I’m sure the Roamers won’t cause us any particular harm.” He considered the recent aggression against them to be a deadly distraction that wasted vital military resources. Another one of Basil’s boondoggles. “You made the right decision. Now we have an intact enemy ship to study. I will see to it that both of you receive recognition for your service.”

Pleased to be in the limelight again, Maureen looked like a plump cat that had just swallowed a whole mouthful of canaries.

Estarra looked at the quiet young grandson of the old Chairman. “You seem distracted, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Are you well?”

“Sorry—I was . . . thinking about someone.”

“All this talk about Roamers must be distressing to him.” Maureen touched the young man’s arm. “He and the rest of the EDF survivors deserve a long furlough, King Peter—if I can convince General Lanyan of that.”

Hansa scientists hurried into the security zone, eager to get their hands on the alien ship. Engineering Specialist Lars Rurik Swendsen was like a child unwrapping the largest present at a birthday party. “Just look at it! It’s perfect. And if its systems work, we should be able to build counterparts using similar technology. This could be the biggest advance since producing Soldier compies from Klikiss robot designs, or . . . or the Klikiss transportals themselves. Just think of it!” The tall Swede looked as if he might start dancing.

Maureen interjected, “We’ve also secured detailed notes and logbooks from tests performed by a Roamer engineer. Some of the data may be useful.”

Dignitaries came forward to have their images taken beside the hydrogue ship. With so much disheartening news lately, media reporters would seize upon this happy story, just as they had repeated the unofficial announcement of the Queen’s pregnancy.

Even so, this small derelict was a grim reminder that the hydrogues could strike Earth at any time. However, Peter thought of Basil lurking behind shadows in the Palace, it would be refreshing to confront an enemy who isn’t afraid to face you.

2

ADMIRAL LEV STROMO

The Manta shot across space to rescue any surviving “dunsel” commanders from the rammer fleet. By now, the sixty kamikaze ships should have smashed the drogues at Qronha 3.

The cruiser’s Ildiran stardrive was pushed to its maximum; sweating engineering crews and their Soldier compy counterparts monitored all systems, wary of overloads. Admiral Stromo was seventeen hours behind schedule—before launch, he had insisted on going through every checklist and prep report, as if this were merely a training mission instead of a rushed interception—but the escape pods should have plenty of air, food, and water to last the six token human dunsels for at least another day, maybe two. Stromo had plenty of time.

Itching for a chance to deploy the EDF’s new rammers, General Lanyan had seized the chance when hydrogues attacked a Hansa cloud harvester at Qronha 3. Crewed almost entirely by Soldier compies, the massive reinforced vessels were built for the sole purpose of crashing. By design, the token human commanders should have been able to eject to safety, and the retrieval Manta would pick them up. The operation had looked perfectly good on paper.

The Admiral slept soundly in his private cabin, leaving administrative details to the officer-in-charge. When the wake-up alarm buzzed, he grumbled that a grid admiral should be allowed a few extra hours of rest. He climbed out of his padded bunk, rubbed his eyes, and got ready for his shift. He was expected to provide a good example for his troops, though he would rather have stayed home. Stromo’s particular skills were in the areas of bureaucracy, politics, and paperwork. Other EDF officers must be eager to make a name for themselves and get a promotion. Wouldn’t one of them have been a better choice for the job?

Nevertheless, he was here. He had his orders. He wanted to finish up and go back.

Stromo splashed his face with water from the small basin. When he rubbed his cheeks, he felt a touch of stubble, but decided he could wait another day before taking his anti-beard-growth hormone. The pills often made his stomach queasy, but shaving was a nuisance.

After putting on a clean uniform, he leaned closer to the mirror, increased the magnification. The heavy jaw and round neck showed an unsightly extra chin that matched his growing paunch; even his eyes were puffy, and not from lack of sleep. Maybe he should start an exercise regimen, when he had spare time.

Stromo had never intended to go back into combat, never thought he’d need to be a rock-hard soldier again. But since the hydrogues, few things in his life had gone the way he’d wanted them to. He was aware of much snickering at his expense, the insulting nickname of “Stay-at-Home Stromo” because he preferred a desk job to real military work. But there came a time when the desire for comfort and predictability superseded pride and ambition.

The glowing digits on the bulkhead wall reminded him that he had only a few minutes to get to the bridge if he meant to be there when the cruiser reached Qronha 3. He should be sitting in the command chair for the important part of this bothersome mission. He combed his short iron-gray hair, took a deep breath, and adjusted his bar of medals (most of them awarded for length of service or for being in the right place at the right time). Ready for duty.

He moved at a brisk pace down the corridor, back straight, shoulders square, chin pushed forward as if he were power-walking for exercise. He passed a dozen Soldier compies and nodded a greeting out of habit. He was not surprised that they did not salute or respond. Unlike Friendly-model compies, such niceties were not part of the required military programming.

The Soldier models, designed as replacements for real crewmen, stood almost as tall as a man, with armored torsos and thick arms and legs. Their reinforced musculature and synthetic body coverings made them more durable, less vulnerable to accidents and damage, and stronger than human soldiers. It was a relief to know there were so many of the useful compies aboard.

He stepped onto the bridge and scanned the crew. The strange young female green priest, Clydia, sat at her station, touching her treeling and daydreaming, as usual. The hairless woman wore only shorts and a loose shirt, no shoes, no rank insignia (other than the numerous tattoos that adorned her emerald skin). Although he viewed green priests as basically savages, he was glad to have use of Clydia’s instant communications. Many other battleships were crippled by long transmission times.

The bridge crew consisted of a tall Egyptian weapons officer, Anwar Zizu, who, judging both by appearance and actions, might have been carved from oak; a communications officer whom Stromo couldn’t remember having met before; two scan operators; and a pair of Soldier compies monitoring routine stations. When no one noticed his arrival, Stromo loudly cleared his throat. A young ensign who had taken over the nav console—Terene Mae, if he remembered her name right—snapped to attention. “Admiral on deck!”

Commander Elly Ramirez turned in her chair. “We’re on final approach to the Qronha system, sir.”

“This is just a routine pickup and run.” He took the command seat that Ramirez surrendered. “We’ll snatch the escape pods, turn around, and head back to Earth. The dunsel commanders can give a full report on the operation.”

Ramirez smiled. “It’ll be good to have Commander Tamblyn back aboard, Admiral. I’ve never felt entirely right about taking this Manta from her.”

“She followed orders, Commander Ramirez. As a Roamer, Tamblyn wasn’t cut out for our recent missions.” Not interested in hearing any more, he looked at the viewscreen and saw the visible disk of a gas-giant planet. The glare from Qronha’s binary star flared off to the edge of the screen. “Is that Qronha 3?”

One of the sensor operators made an adjustment to filter out the extraneous light. “Yes, sir. We should be within range in less than an hour.”

“Any emergency messages? Locator blips from the escape pods?”

“We’re still far away, sir,” Ramirez said. “The transmitters on the pods aren’t very powerful.”

Stromo leaned back. “Carry on.” For a while, the ship’s humming was peaceful, relaxing, and he caught himself nodding off. He rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to stay awake. He hoped he hadn’t actually snored.

“Still no response,” the communications officer said.

“We’re scanning ahead now, searching for debris or any hot engine traces,” said the sensor operator.

Stromo’s brows beetled. “If sixty rammers smashed into a bunch of drogue warglobes, there should have been quite a fireworks display. Aren’t you detecting residual energy and radioactivity yet?”

“No, sir. I find very faint traces deep in the clouds, but they seem to be the leftover components from the cloud-harvesting station. Not the rammers. No sign of Ildiran ships either.”

Stromo frowned. “But there must be something. We’re only a day behind the rammers.”

Reaching the bloated planet, they found no blips from the escape pods, no remnants of explosions, no wreckage. “Keep looking until you find some answers,” he growled. “Sixty rammers don’t just vanish without a trace.”

3

MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H

Hydrogue warglobes filled the skies of Ildira, ready to obliterate the Prism Palace. Even under the light of the six surviving suns, Mage-Imperator Jora’h felt as if a heavy shadow had fallen across his skysphere chamber.

He had returned to his dais inside the great Palace, and the hydrogues would send down their emissary soon, at which time Jora’h would begin the most important conversation in Ildiran history. Never had a Mage-Imperator faced a more dangerous and frightening crisis or decision. Now all the centuries of planning and intricate schemes seemed weak and insufficient. Sitting in his chrysalis chair, the bitter knowledge that his empire was about to change chilled Jora’h to the core.

His half-breed daughter Osira’h had brought them here, exactly as he had requested. And now what?

The Mage-Imperator was about to face beings so powerful that they could extinguish suns and had nearly destroyed several civilizations in the Spiral Arm ten thousand years ago. What could he possibly have to offer such creatures?

We called this down upon ourselves, Jora’h thought.

Using Klikiss robots as intermediaries ages ago, hydrogues and Ildirans had reached some kind of nonaggression pact that had recently broken down for reasons Jora’h did not understand. The treacherous robots had turned against Ildira to follow their own agenda.

But with Osira’h, the Mage-Imperator needed no other intermediary. She was the bridge. Jora’h wasn’t sure how the girl had forced the deep-core aliens to come, nor did he completely grasp her unique powers to make the hydrogues understand. When the hydrogues had brought her, intact, from the gas giant, she had told him their brief and terrible message. They require that you help them destroy the humans. If you do not agree, none of us will survive. It was as if she had swung a crystal scythe at all his hopes. . . .

A courier raced into the sun-bright palace chamber. “Liege, Adar Zan’nh insists on speaking with you! His maniple of warliners awaits your order. Should he open fire on the hydrogues?”

Jora’h took the communications device from the fleet-footed man. An image formed of his oldest son, the overburdened commander of the Solar Navy. Zan’nh looked haggard, yet his face remained set with duty and determination. His topknot was drawn back, oiled in place and clipped by an insignia band. “Liege, my maniple is prepared to defend Ildira. Simply issue the order.”

We will not surrender and crawl into a burrow, waiting for our deaths. Even though their weapons were no match for the warglobes, the Solar Navy would still cause a great deal of damage. Surely the hydrogues can see that.

“Adar, that would only trigger a massacre. I will see how this plays out. Remove your warliners to a safe distance, remain vigilant, and be ready to respond. I expe