Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [183]
The seven warliners halted in space around the battered escape vessels, solar fins fully deployed so that they looked like enormous predatory fish. “The Mage-Imperator dispatched us to carry out a mission to Qronha 3,” said the septar. “We can take you aboard, where you will be safe and protected until our assignment is complete.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Sullivan said.
Once the escape vessels settled into the nearest warliner’s hangar bay, passengers spilled out, gasping. The rescued Ildirans looked particularly glad to be surrounded by their kinsmen. One woman with a long mane of hair, lean features, and lithe movements stepped forward. Her large eyes flashed with a smoky brown color that reminded Sullivan of good scotch.
“I am Yazra’h, a daughter of the Mage-Imperator. Thank you for rescuing our people, at great cost to yourselves.” The refugees had already told their story erratically over the comm systems as they waited to be taken aboard. “We will provide you with food, shelter, and amenities until we have the opportunity to deliver you to Ildira. My father will want to offer you his personal gratitude.”
Sullivan flushed. “Don’t mention it, miss. I’m sure your people would have done the same for us.”
The Ildiran and human refugees were taken to different quarters. Sullivan and his people had little chance to speak with their counterparts, to exchange good wishes. It seemed rather odd to him, socially speaking, but he also remembered the incomprehensible behavior of Hroa’x. Once the Ildiran survivors were back among their own people, they seemed absorbed into a larger group from which the Hansa workers were cut off.
Continuing toward Qronha 3 with the full force of the Ildiran stardrive, all seven warliners arrived within hours. Yazra’h and the Ildiran soldiers were intent on some unstated mission, and Sullivan couldn’t understand what they hoped to accomplish, since by now the hydrogues were finished destroying the cloud-harvesting facilities. When he asked questions, the Ildirans were uncommunicative.
A curious Tabitha made occasional forays down the ship corridors. She had been trained as a systems engineer in the EDF, specializing in weapons development, but she had transferred to work on the modular cloud harvester. She hoped she might learn something from looking at this warliner, and the Ildirans had never been reluctant to share technology before. She entered the propulsion bays, not venturing anywhere that was clearly restricted, yet interested in the warliner’s engineering. The Ildirans, with their interconnected mental network, had very little internal security.
In contrast to the minimal interest the mining chief Hroa’x had shown in Hansa ekti-processing designs, Tabitha inspected how the Ildiran vessels functioned, seeing with her own eyes things that she had only read about. Ildirans had freely shared their stardrive technology with humanity, and Tabitha had no reason to believe they kept secrets, but one of her discoveries surprised her. With her wide mouth curved in an impish grin, she found Sullivan and took him by the elbow to lead him to one of the smaller launching bays. “You’ve got to see this. I don’t know what the Ildirans are doing.”
A spherical vessel sat inside the room. It had heavy reinforcement ribs, incredibly thick crystalline walls, and a central chamber barely large enough to hold one small person.
He pushed out his lower lip, deep in thought. (Lydia always said it made him look like he was pouting.) “Is it some sort of pressure chamber?”
“I think this is why they’ve come to Qronha 3.” Tabitha ran her fingers along the segmented planes that formed its walls. “Remember before the massacre at Osquivel? The EDF sent one man down in a diving bell to meet with the hydrogues. Looks to me like the Ildirans intend to do the same thing.”
He squinted inside