A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [175]
Then the hydrogues opened fire again and destroyed the Manta entirely.
Once she rerouted the life-support systems, her cruiser’s engines had the boost she needed. Tasia brought her cruiser up into the cluster of other surviving ships. Together they limped into the darkness away from Osquivel’s deadly rings.
She hadn’t even had time to adjust to the fact that Robb had been killed by the hydrogues. Later, if she survived, she would think about all the foolish things she had said, the mistakes she had made, and the damnably heroic but stupid bravado Robb had shown.
With the life-support systems deactivated, the shrieking alarms seemed even louder. She could already feel the onboard temperature dropping, though they could survive for as much as a day with the current atmosphere.
“The alarms, Commander,” said an engineer. “More systems are cascading, causing secondary breakdowns. What are we going to do?”
Tasia strode to a control station, scowling. She finally found the systems she needed, reached in with her bare hands, and yanked out a sparking set of circuit cards. The alarms fell suddenly, deafeningly silent.
“There. I don’t hear any alarms. I can keep a closer eye on the systems without all that racket.” She looked at her surviving crew, barely able to comprehend the destruction and death the ragtag group was leaving behind. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
91
PRIME DESIGNATE JORA’H
After divulging the truth of Nira’s disappearance, the Mage-Imperator ordered his guards to keep Jora’h occupied with state functions for the next day. It was part of his duty as Prime Designate. He assumed that his son’s anger would pass as he came to accept the new knowledge.
The Mage-Imperator could not have been more wrong.
Jora’h‘s impatience flashed out like a thunderstorm as he drove his attenders away. He canceled all appointments with his assigned lovers, sending the starry-eyed women away in confusion and disappointment. He went to the ossuarium, accusing the glowing skulls of collusion with such terrible crimes, but the light continued to shine through their bones, and the skeletal faces seemed content in their rectitude.
Though he would eventually hold all the thism for himself and see through to the Lightsource, Jora’h felt alone now. His heart ached with the thought of all Nira must have endured for the past six years. She probably believed he had abandoned her, sacrificed her to these unconscionable experiments. She must be convinced that he had brushed her aside, forgotten her completely.
But though he remained helpless to change what had happened, he was determined to change the future. Nira was still alive—and he intended to get to her.
The Mage-Imperator attempted to send calming thoughts and soothing emotions through his faint telepathic link, but Jora’h refused to accept any of it. The leader sent conciliatory lens kithmen to speak to the Prime Designate, but he sent them away. Instead, reaching a boiling point, he marched into the skysphere reception hall, where his supposedly benevolent father held court.
Jora’h‘s topaz eyes glittered with contained fire. His mobile strands of hair flickered like the stingers of venomous insects. With cold intent, he had worn a garment sewn from the fabrics of Nira’s forested homeworld, cocoon fiber that he had purchased years ago from the merchant woman Rlinda Kett.
Functionaries, pilgrims, and sycophants of numerous kiths turned to look in startled surprise as the Prime Designate strode forward. His anger was focused with the intensity of a projectile on the corpulent, sagging leader. “Father, we must have more words.”
Armored guard kithmen appeared at the door ways of the skysphere hall. Bron’n stepped close to the Mage-Imperator’s chrysalis chair in a show of solidarity and protective