Of Fire and Night - Kevin J. Anderson [236]
"Perhaps it is all you have," Tery'l said.
"It doesn't need to be that way! If humans were linked to each other like Ildirans are through thism, then we could understand, cooperate, and grow stronger. We'd never have factions and enemies and civil wars."
"Then you have truly learned from us, my friend. For millennia, Ildirans had almost no internal struggle, except for the recent Hyrillka uprising--and that was due to flawed thism."
"I wish I could be part of what you have, Tery'l." Kolker felt desperation in his heart. "I am so intrigued by your thism. I wish I could open myself to it . . ."
The lens kithman grasped Kolker's hand, squeezing with the power of a vise. "You already understand more than you know. I am comforted that you are here, but comforted more that all my people are with me, all Ildirans together, sharing, thinking, supporting each other."
"Right now you should be thinking of yourself--just be strong."
"I am strong. And we all think for all of us. How else could I have survived and remained happy, even as my eyesight failed? It is the thism." With his other hand, Tery'l reached for the shining, lens-etched medallion he always wore at his throat. As he picked it up, the prismatic disk caught the light and reflected rainbows. "This . . . this may give you more to ponder."
Not understanding, Kolker took the gift. "What is it?"
"A symbol."
The facets seemed full of light being sucked down into a gravity well, reflecting, sparkling with possibilities. "So it doesn't do anything?"
"Symbols do many things. That depends on you."
Kolker had seen the old lens kithman touch the medallion, claiming that it helped him to link to the Lightsource. "Don't you need it yourself, Tery'l?"
As if knowing he was finished with life, willing himself to end, the ancient lens kithman simply died without releasing Kolker's hand.
The green priest remained at the old man's side for a long time. He passed through his grief thinking of everything Tery'l had said, clinging to a strand of hope and mystery. He looked down at the sparkling etched facets in the gift medallion, following lines of shattered light. What had the old lens kithman seen inside there? Had he used it to follow paths through the thism? Even in death, Tery'l had been comforted by his endless connections to his people.
Finally, Kolker climbed to his feet again and walked in a daze back toward the Prism Palace, toward Sullivan Gold, Tabitha Huck, and the other Hansa skyminers.
He had a mission now. Though he didn't know where he would begin, Kolker prepared for his new work.
140
PATRICK FITZPATRICK III
In the space yacht he had "borrowed" from his grandmother, Patrick stopped off long enough at a distant Hansa outpost to purchase hull paints, which he used to remove the prominent markings. He changed the registration numbers and automatic ID signal. Thinking of dark-haired Zhett, he renamed his yacht the Gypsy.
He was alone and far from anything else happening in the Spiral Arm. Patrick did not expect the Roamers to be easy to find, but he had a few obvious starting places.
It took him several lonely days to fly to Osquivel. He didn't expect to find anything useful at the ringed gas giant, however. Certainly not a secret message from Zhett. He'd already read the report of the EDF investigation team. Military engineers had combed through the rubble, finding useless debris, ejected machinery, and wrecked habitats. EDF investigators had collected every usable piece of equipment they could find, piecing together the Kellum operation. Patrick found it ironic. Now who are the scavengers?
As he flew through the rubble rings now, he experienced a wash of fearful memories. The battle of Osquivel had been the most terrifying experience in his life--countless warglobes, EDF ships blasted into