Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [190]
At the mosaic-tiled spaceport, where Adar Kori’nh had long ago arrived with his warliners to take the young Prime Designate back to Ildira—the first part of his father’s treachery—Thor’h had now issued orders for all of Hyrillka’s spaceships to be modified and refitted. Even cargo vessels were given additional hull armor and outfitted with both defensive and offensive weapons. Previously, only Solar Navy ships had borne arms, but Imperator Rusa’h insisted that many ways must change in order to wrench the Ildiran race back onto the Lightsource path from which it had strayed.
Shiploads of concentrated raw shiing were readied for Imperator Rusa’h‘s next step. Thor’h did not know his uncle’s plans, nor did any of the lens kithmen, but they all had complete faith in the enlightened Imperator. All of the armored cargo ships were ready to take off as soon as Rusa’h chose his next conquest and decided to make his move.
At the end of the irrigation canals, they reached a bustling factory complex filled with Ildirans of all kiths, who were working diligently on the shiing packaging lines. After the hydrogue attack, when Thor’h had returned here to reconstruct the facilities, this building had not been a factory at all, but an entertainment pavilion where performers had danced with reflective ribbons and pennants. Formerly, this had been the Hyrillka Designate’s favorite spectacle.
Now, though, priorities had changed, and Rusa’h had called a moratorium on “unnecessary cultural activities.” All Hyrillkans must save their time and energy for his vital work.
When the Imperator’s chrysalis chair glided up to the production factory, the dedicated workers were reluctant to turn from their intensive tasks, but when Rusa’h raised both hands, his subjects came close to hear him speak. “You are my chosen soldiers of the future! Not just warriors and guards, but combatants in a larger battle for the soul of the Ildiran race. We must hope we are not too late to save our people.”
The people nodded, listening with rapt attention. Thor’h basked in the Imperator’s words.
“It has been made clear to me that the hydrogues are not simply aliens, not mere enemies—they have returned as a demonic punishment! The Lightsource brought this upon us. Did not the hydrogues emerge from a burst of light at Oncier? Jora’h, the so-called Mage-Imperator, refuses to see this. Even my father Cyroc’h did not recognize the connection, for he too was blinded to the true path of the thism.
“But I have been guided by a vision. You will all help me bring about the painful but necessary changes to rescue our lost people. Under my guidance, the Empire shall grow great again, and the hydrogues will disappear when the Lightsource is satisfied that we have found our way.”
The people absorbed his words, not just through his voice but also through their taut new thism connection. Imperator Rusa’h stared at them for a long while with benevolent satisfaction, then asked Thor’h to follow him as he turned the chrysalis chair around.
“We will begin our next operations soon, Prime Designate. One planet after another in the Horizon Cluster will join my network. And with each acquisition, I will grow stronger.”
Thor’h followed his uncle back through the nialia fields toward the citadel palace, puzzled. “How will we exert control over the whole Horizon Cluster, Liege? How can we, just a small group here on Hyrillka, defeat the Solar Navy?”
Leaning back in his ornate womblike vessel, Rusa’h smiled placidly. “The Solar Navy will soon be ours, too. We will use warliners to control other splinter colonies in the Horizon Cluster. But