Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [132]
The Adar’s eyes flashed. “Yet you will kill as many as necessary? And you scorn the Mage-Imperator for breaking a few traditions!”
“The Lightsource says it is necessary. Just look around you.”
In dismay, Zan’nh observed how unified and cooperative the bridge crew was with every instruction the disgraced Prime Designate issued. Thor’h was right: The Mage-Imperator would resist taking drastic, violent action against them, probably until it was too late. Zan’nh had already made that mistake.
The star systems in the Horizon Cluster were closely packed. If worlds fell rapidly before Jora’h acted, the mad Designate might indeed gather a strong enough force to withstand any retaliation from the legitimate Solar Navy. If only Zan’nh could send a clear thism message to warn his father...But all around him there was too much static, too much mental noise, too much emptiness.
He tried to remain strong by thinking of Adar Kori’nh. Zan’nh’s predecessor had never wavered in his resolve though he had been faced with an enemy more terrible than the worst nemesis chronicled in the Saga of Seven Suns. Adar Kori’nh had never surrendered, even knowing the Solar Navy was no match for the planet-killing might of the hydrogues.
Just thinking of the old Adar made Zan’nh straighten against the burden of his own situation. When the hydrogues had continued to prey upon Ildiran settlements, when the former Mage-Imperator had died and left the Empire in turmoil, Kori’nh had seized a desperate chance, flying his warliners in suicide missions that—though they had cost the Adar his life—had dealt the most serious blow to the enemy thus far.
Now, as he sat in the command nucleus of this stolen warliner feeling weak, Zan’nh imagined the last few seconds of Kori’nh’s life. The older Adar must have gripped the rails, staring ahead as his warliners hurled themselves against the diamond-hulled hydrogue ships. On that glorious day, warglobe after warglobe had shattered in the clouds of Qronha 3, and the hydrogues had learned that Ildirans possessed the mettle and the resolve to fight as necessary.
At the time, the old Mage-Imperator was dead but Jora’h had not yet taken on his role, leaving Adar Kori’nh adrift from the thism. That had given him the necessary independence to make such a bold move. He had turned the loss of the mental network to his advantage.
If only Zan’nh could do the same. All around him, he could sense the rebel Designate’s alternate network. The new thism, despite its wrongness, rushed past him like a fast-flowing river, and Zan’nh, like a man dying of thirst, yearned for that river, yet was cut off from it by an invisible wall.
Reeling, he could not drive away the thought that he could easily have what he needed, if only he would succumb. Despite the knots in his stomach, Zan’nh was very, very tempted.
He forced himself to think of Adar Kori’nh, who would be remembered forever as a hero in the Saga. Zan’nh would not allow his own story to be anything less. He could not disappoint his mentor, or the Mage-Imperator. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the dark mental silence all around him.
“We are approaching Alturas, Prime Designate,” the navigator announced.
Zan’nh looked sharply at him, recalling that this crewman had flown warliners to Hrel-oro and faced off against the hydrogues, then had guided the ships to quash the uprising at Hyrillka. Now the navigator would not even look at his Adar.
“And why are we going to Alturas?” Zan’nh asked.
Thor’h smiled beatifically at him. “They will be the next planet to join our cause.”
“I doubt they will agree so easily.”
“Whether or not they agree, they will still concede.”
The young Adar was appalled at how swiftly the insurrection was gaining momentum. Within days, the Dobro Designate was expected to come to Hyrillka and announce his decision whether or not to join them. Zan’nh feared that Udru’h might choose to throw his own support to the spreading rebellion—not because the arguments were convincing, but for