A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [235]
The warglobe loomed closer, jagged blue weapon bolts dancing like twisted snakes across the isolated sky. Jess jerked the controls hard, and the ship spun, looping as it brushed deeper into the cloud deck. The hydrogue blast went wide, strafing the cloud tops, triggering a cascade of deep lightning.
Jess gritted his teeth. “It doesn’t look like I can get out of this, but there’s no need for you to be destroyed.” He sucked in a cold breath. “I’m going to dump the cargo hold…I don’t care about all of the equipment and supplies—maybe the wental cylinder will get to the clouds, the ocean below. That’ll be enough for you, won’t it?”
Without waiting for the shimmering water entity to respond, Jess sealed the cockpit deck and punched the emergency air lock dump. Jettisoning flotsam, strewing random debris along the clouds, the ship flew on. The hydrogue roared in its wake, ignoring the scattered refuse. Ignoring the wental cylinder.
Take this small vial of our water and drink it, said the wental, still thrumming from his pocket. You must survive.
He snatched the small vial out of his pocket. “But what will that—”
Do not hesitate.
The hydrogues shot at him again. One of Jess’s aft engines exploded, but suppression systems smothered the fire. The ship was completely out of control, careening into the lower atmosphere. As if eager to help the enemy, storm winds made his ship buck and shear. Behind him, the hydrogue closed in for the kill.
Jess removed the top from the vial and poured the haunted water down his throat.
His ship spun aimlessly as it tumbled, engines smoking, hull seared…and still the warglobe wasn’t satisfied. It swept in behind Jess and opened fire again.
As he swallowed the wental’s essence, Jess felt nuclear energy surge through him. The wental filled his tissues, rushing like a tsunami from his largest blood vessels down to the smallest capillaries, then penetrating his tissues through the water-based protoplasm in his cells.
He gasped, and his fingers clenched as his muscles spasmed. He could no longer even touch the controls. Static sparks danced from his fingertips. He let out a loud scream that was part agony, part astonishment, and part utter exhilaration.
His wounded ship plummeted toward the uncharted alien oceans. The murderous hydrogue came in fast behind him—and shot out a final demolishing blast. Jess’s vessel erupted into a cloud of shrapnel and molten pieces high in the sky, streaking like fallen meteors through bruised clouds…
The warglobe hovered for a few moments longer, surveying the complete destruction. Then it departed.
122
DOBRO DESIGNATE
He drew the sharp edge of the blade along his scalp, slicing off the last remnants of what had been his proud crown of hair. He had oiled his skin, and the blade was like a razor, shaving away even the finest stubble. Though his hair was slightly animated, moving like static electricity, the Dobro Designate felt no pain, only determination as he completed the ritual—like every other male was doing across the entire Empire.
Everyone but Prime Designate Jora’h.
The Mage-Imperator, his father, was dead. Udru’h felt the despair gnawing like teeth of ice inside his chest. He had known the great leader’s health was failing, but had not expected the Mage-Imperator to die so soon.
The Empire was trapped in such turmoil it seemed the worst possible time to leave the Ildiran people without a leader, without the thism that bound them together. Too many plans had reached critical junctures, such as his own work here on Dobro with sweet Osira’h and her special powers.
There wasn’t enough time!
Udru’h put his knife down and looked into a reflection glass surrounded by small blazers. His features were handsome but lean and hardened. The recognizable lips, chin, and facial structure that looked so calm on Jora’h‘s oblivious