• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

‘I don't know what's gotten into him.' Caleb shook his head. ‘But then, he never made much sense to me anyway. Should I worry about it?'

‘No, you shouldn't,' Cesca said. ‘It's not… threatening or dangerous.'

Denn smiled at his daughter. ‘Before long, I might even figure out how I can touch you again. Everything used to be a mystery, but now it makes so much more sense.' He clapped a hand on Caleb's bony shoulder. ‘We will be happy to distribute the new wentals while you continue your search. We'll take a Tamblyn tanker and do it ourselves.'

Caleb scowled. ‘Who are you to offer--'

‘I'm the one who lent you the workers and equipment from Osquivel to fix your water mines.'

‘Well, that may be so, but we didn't end up needing them as much as we thought we would. Jess and Cesca did most of it.'

‘Good. In that case, why not do them a small favour?' Denn's grin did not diminish, he seemed entirely at peace. ‘Paying back a debt is never a waste of time.'

‘Well, of course not.'

Later, out on the surface of the frozen moon, Jess directed the segregated nebula wentals to stream away from his bubble and pour into the landed tanker. The revitalized water flowed like a glistening caterpillar, alive as it moved into the hold and spread out to fill every empty space without losing a drop. When the tanker was filled with the energized fluid, Jess and Cesca said their farewells and thanks.

Cesca looked deeply into her father's eyes, trying to understand what had changed about him. The wentals picked up on a closeness similar to the mental bond she and Jess shared, but this ability was broader, more all-consuming, than the wental connection. Denn seemed happier, stronger, as if he could be closer to her than ever before. ‘It's wonderful, Cesca. Don't ever worry about me.'

‘Are you going to explain what happened to you?'

He gave her a strange smile. ‘Someday. I'm sure the wentals will comprehend it. The worldtrees are starting to. Right now, I need to understand it better myself. When I'm ready, I'll share this with my daughter, or the Speaker -former Speaker - of the Roamers.'

‘In the last year, I haven't been much of a Speaker or a daughter.'

‘You have been everything to me, dear Cesca. By the Guiding Star, don't ever forget that.'

One hundred and three

Sirix

Defeated but not destroyed, broken but still surviving, Sirix struggled to keep his dwindling forces going. The battle group was battered from the clash at Llaro. He had lost many of his ships, Soldier compies, and black robots. The heavy EDF vessels had very little fuel remaining and almost no weaponry.

For the first time, he considered the real possibility of simply hiding, hibernating, burying all of the black robots on some isolated asteroid or moon, and just waiting for a few thousand years. But by that time, Sirix was certain the Klikiss would have swarmed unchecked across the Spiral Arm. He could not abide that, and dogged determination kept him going. There had to be some way.

He stumbled upon an unexpected advantage. In the vastness of empty space, the prowling robot battleships encountered a lone Roamer cargo escort heavily loaded with ekti tanks. Sirix focused his attention and locked on his enhanced sensors. All of his surviving ships came to full alert.

‘We should attack,' Ilkot announced. ‘Our battle group is desperately in need of stardrive fuel.'

‘Our battle group is desperately in need of everything.' Sirix studied the results of their cursory scans, forcing himself to be logical and consider the broader implications. Their very survival was at stake. ‘By itself, that cargo load is insufficient to fuel our battle group for long. Allow the ship to increase its distance, while we remain just within sensor range. Perhaps if we follow this Roamer craft, it will lead us to an even larger prize.'

‘We dare not let it escape.'

‘It will not escape.'

As soon as the cargo escort detected the battle group, it deviated from its course and accelerated, regarding them warily, like one