Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [170]
Debris from the mangled cloud harvester fell like ashes in the wide-open sky. Moving away at best speed, Sullivan grimly tried to contact the Ildiran skyfactory. His crew was not enthusiastic about remaining near the hydrogues any longer than necessary.
Tabitha insisted, “Look, Sullivan, I know you’ve got a good heart, but we can’t go back there. We won’t survive.”
“I see no reason to provoke the drogues,” cried one of the shift supervisors.
“The hydrogues wrecked our cloud harvester,” Sullivan pointed out, “but they’ve left our evacuation modules alone.”
“So far. This isn’t really a ship...it’s just a box that moves.”
Another man said, “Let’s just get out of here! We can wait for the EDF to come pick us up. Kolker already sent the message, right?”
“They may not be here for days,” the forlorn green priest answered. “I don’t have a treeling to receive any updates. Nobody even knows we survived. We’re isolated. We’re on our own.”
“No we’re not—we have the Ildirans.” Sullivan sounded more like a boss than he ever had. “We’re morally bound to help them, even if they weren’t smart enough to plan ahead.” He glared at his crewmembers, unyielding. “You’d want them to do the same for us.”
“Yeah, but would they?” one of the ekti engineers argued.
“That’s not the point. We’ll show them a bit of human kindness.”
He directed the thirteen escape modules to fly across the cloudbanks toward the second battle zone, where the Ildiran skyfactory smoked and burned in the rarefied atmosphere. So far, the hydrogues had primarily concentrated their wrath upon the human cloud harvester. Far behind them, most of the warglobes continued to rip apart the framework like jackals on a carcass. But others had begun to turn their weapons on the Ildirans.
“Keep transmitting to Hroa’x, Tabitha. Tell him we’re on our way. Have him get his people ready to board our ships. Divide them into thirteen groups. Calculate how many we can hold. We’ll cram shoulder-to-shoulder.”
“We don’t have enough fuel or life support or food. These modules are just a temporary—”
Sullivan cut her off. “We’ll figure out something. Let’s survive for the next hour and then decide what to do.”
The cumbersome modules made their way to the Ildiran skyfactory city. Its towers and domes had been blackened. Atmosphere and chemical fumes boiled out. Fires were raging through the habitation complexes. As Sullivan watched in horror, Ildiran miner kithmen fell off the railings and plunged into the emptiness of infinite clouds. He couldn’t tell if the people had intentionally thrown themselves overboard.
A nearby warglobe launched two crackling blasts against the lower decks, ripping apart the bottom sections, then it cruised away through the topmost clouds like a shark knifing through the water.
“Here’s our chance. We’ve got to hurry.” Sullivan brought his escape module down onto the broad landing deck of Hroa’x’s skyfactory, scattering panicked miners who did not know where to go. Ildiran family leaders and primary engineers raced forward. Fires and explosions continued to shake the huge complex as if it were held in the fist of an angry giant.
Shoving the module’s hatch open, Sullivan leaned out and shouted, “We can fit twenty in here. Twenty! Count yourselves out and get aboard. Twelve other vessels are landing right behind me.” When he saw the aliens hesitate, Sullivan grew red-faced. “Move your asses! We don’t have time for this.”
Squat Hroa’x strode from the remains of a skeletal exhaust tower. The facility chief shouted to the miner kithmen, “Do as he says. We have no time to choose or prioritize. Twenty of you, climb aboard and let him take off.”
Sullivan gestured to him. “You, Hroa’x—come aboard with me.”
But the proud miner shook his head. “No, I will stay here.” He marched back into his facility, as if he were returning to a normal day of work.
Before Sullivan could yell again, twenty Ildirans clambered through the hatch. Within moments,