Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [149]
Nira considered just staying there, building a shelter and living out her life. She had little chance of finding her way to civilization, and then it would only be to the breeding camps and hated Udru’h again. Why not settle here?
She knew the answer: because she needed to find her daughter and return to her beloved worldforest. All on her terms.
She rested for a day, leaning against the dark trunks. She spoke aloud, telling her story and her thoughts to the scrubby growths, but unlike the worldtrees, these plants did not record her words for a greater interconnected mind. Maybe they did understand her, but could not respond. Or maybe she could no longer hear.
Nira could not allow herself to forget what had happened to her, no matter how much she wanted to block it from her mind. She would have to remember all the events, for her daughter’s sake...
A week later, she came upon terrain that looked as if it had once been cultivated. She found a track laid out in a straight line and then the foundations of old buildings. The cluster of homes and collapsing storehouses sketched the shadow of a town, a long-abandoned Ildiran settlement, surrounded by wide expanses of overgrown fields that had long ago gone wild and blurred their boundaries.
She stood in the middle of what had been the central square, listening to the wind make soft whispers through the fallen timbers and crumbling foundations. The hushing sound of spindly plants and spiky grasses was like a flood of breathy words from the ghosts of those who had once lived here.
She called out, and her voice squeezed from her throat in a loud, startling croak. Nira heard no answer. No solitude-fearing Ildiran would ever have stayed in a place like this.
This crumbling village had been dead for a long time. None of the equipment worked. Nira had hoped to find a communications system or even a map of the continent, but everything had decayed to dust. It must have been centuries since Dobro had been a thriving planet that supported more than one large splinter colony.
Touching the soft, worn wall of one of the halfway-intact structures, Nira could almost feel the forgotten dreams here. But there was nothing for her, or any green priest.
She began to walk again, away from the ghost town.
Chapter 72—CELLI
Beneto’s wooden face wore an expression of proud satisfaction as he observed the green priests working hard to prepare treelings. Explorers went to partially recovered sections of the forest, plucked pale shoots from crevices in the armored bark, then transplanted the new treelings into pots for transport. Pallets were covered with thousands of the small pots to be scattered like seeds to other planets, which would spread and protect the verdani mind even if the hydrogues did return to Theroc.
But how does that help us? Celli wondered.
Though she wasn’t a green priest, she worked beside Solimar, determined to help. She had always been a tomboy, full of energy and looking for fun. The hydrogue attack had knocked the wind out of everyone, and the constant smell of smoke and ashes had weighed down even her buoyant mood, but now she was finally recovering.
A week after Beneto had made his request, the first shipments of treelings were ready to be sent away, and her sister Sarein had summoned Hansa ships to take them. Green priests would ride aboard, serving the Hansa en route. Johnny Appleseeds.
Solimar handed her a spindly stalk that was still moist from where it had been taken from a damaged tree. “Here’s one for you.” Seven empty pots sat in front of her, all of them filled with soft soil mixed with mulch and fertilizer. The young green priest helped her make a divot for the treeling, and they pressed their hands together, pushing the dirt around it so that the stalk stood upright.
“You know, I can probably do it myself.