Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [167]
A harried-sounding operator provided general directions for where to land. “We don’t really have a spaceport anymore, but we use a large clearing—as long as your ship’s not too big.”
“Not too big,” the captain answered. Full-size Manta cruisers had once landed in the forest clearings. “I’ll manage.”
Sarein braced herself for what she was about to experience. As the diplomatic transport came in beneath the veil of clouds, she could see that the once-thick worldforest canopy was now cracked and burned, giant sections scraped away like eroded canyons. Worldtrees still stood tall and green, but she couldn’t believe how many patches were blackened and cluttered with debris.
Dozens of smaller ships and heavy lifters bustled through the forest, expanding the recovery efforts. To her amazement, she saw large excavations of fallen trees, earthmovers erecting support walls and retaining dikes, soil-retention netting that looked garish on what should have been a natural landscape. Why hadn’t Basil mentioned that full-scale EDF engineering crews were here to assist Theroc?
On second glance, though, the activities didn’t seem regimented or organized enough to have been put together by the Earth military. The EDF tended to lay out everything in straight lines and perfect grids. Conversely, this work seemed energetic and independent, as if each unit was following only a general master plan.
Heavy lifters delivered giant trunks to an open cargo barge that was battered and pitted from decades of hard service. It looked as if it had been designed as an asteroid ore-hauler, and now it was being loaded with fallen worldtrees, taking them out…to space.
As the diplomatic craft came in for a landing, Sarein could make out the individual forms of people moving about on the ground. A shiver went down her spine. “Those are Roamers!”
“Looks like it, Ambassador,” said the captain.
Sarein was instantly resentful, knowing exactly what Basil would say about the matter. “I suppose they have plenty of time on their hands, now that they no longer trade with the Hansa. While my planet is wounded and reeling, they slip in to exploit our resources.”
She had heard the Chairman’s lectures, both public and private; she had seen the heavily slanted reports in the Hansa media, which painted the clans as selfish, intractable, and petulant. As ambassador, Sarein felt compelled to agree with Basil and vocally support his stance. Roamers did make convenient and readily unlikable targets.
She leaned closer to the window. “Why are they hauling all that wood away?”
The captain looked at her mildly. “Maybe they just came to offer help, Ambassador. I don’t see too many EDF crewmembers lending a hand down there.”
“Roamers offering to help, with no strings attached? Hardly likely.” And if the Roamers were assisting on Theroc, why hadn’t Nahton or any of the other green priests informed the Hansa what was going on here? Surely it was relevant!
She didn’t know what game the clans were playing, what goal Speaker Peroni was trying to accomplish with her unfounded accusations about EDF piracy. Sarein was certain the woman had somehow deceived Reynald, tricked him into a marriage proposal. At least her brother had died before the wedding could be formalized.
When the captain landed the diplomatic craft in a scorched clearing, Sarein realized with a sharp pang that this place had once been a lovely, expansive meadow filled with flowers and colorful condorflies. Now it had been razed and flattened by ungainly machinery. Her nostrils flared.
When the hatch opened, the first thing she smelled was harsh smoke, the dust and soot of death in the forest. Wrinkling her nose at the acrid tang, she watched both of her parents and her little sister Celli hurry toward her.
Sarein smiled automatically—an expression she had learned from years of serving under the tutelage of Basil Wenceslas. But she was not happy to be here. In fact, she found it painful to focus on her family in the midst of all this tragedy.
Her memories were filled with expanses