Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [226]
“She’s a beauty. I won’t leave a scratch. Of course, I may need you to help me understand a few of these systems.”
Rlinda bit back a retort and grudgingly followed Caleb and his team aboard his smaller ship. Maybe the pursuing EDF Remoras would show up again...though she didn’t see much advantage in that. It would be better if General Lanyan considered them both dead and the Curiosity destroyed. That would leave her and Branson Roberts with only one problem—albeit a big one.
When the group of passengers was secured aboard Caleb’s ship, he disengaged the dock and took the two prisoners toward the ice moon. Before long, Denn Peroni and his team of pirates guided the Voracious Curiosity in their wake. Rlinda skeptically watched his maneuvering abilities, and was relieved to find that he was doing an adequate job.
On the icy surface below, Rlinda was surprised to see the marks of habitation: landing pads and drill shafts, cermet-lined wellheads that tapped into an underground ocean, several large tanker ships.
“We have a settlement under the ice caps,” Caleb explained. “We’ll find you satisfying work at the water mines.”
“And then what?” Rlinda asked.
He shrugged. “For lack of a better term, you two will live under planetary arrest. Someday, maybe we’ll arrange a prisoner exchange with the Eddies.”
“Wonderful,” BeBob said. “Exactly what I need.”
Grinning, Caleb landed the craft on the broad ice fields. “You’re Roamers now. Get used to it.”
“Hurray,” Rlinda said in a flat voice. “Now all my dreams have come true.”
Though forlorn, BeBob dredged up the last remnants of optimism. “Well, at least we have each other. I’d rather be stuck on an ice moon with you, Rlinda, than sitting in a prison cell for the EDF. At least you’ve gotten me this far.”
Rlinda loved him for it. “You’re right, BeBob. I can think of a few worse ex-husbands to be stranded with.”
Chapter 115—ADAR ZAN’NH
The cohort of warliners, along with the newly recaptured ships, converged in the blue skies above Hyrillka, then descended en masse toward the rebel Designate’s citadel palace.
On previous trips with Adar Kori’nh, Zan’nh had seen the lush landscape, the mosaic-patterned spaceport, the open courtyards maintained for celebrations, festivals, and Solar Navy skyparades. Since the injured Designate’s return, the rebuilt spaceport had been expanded. Ornamental structures, statues, and hanging trellises had been cleared away to make wider landing fields that could accommodate the industrial ships and agricultural haulers that delivered processed shiing.
Beyond the city limits, the sweeping flatlands were now embroidered with new canals, muddy ditches dug in long, interconnecting paths so that Rusa’h’s workers could plant more and more of the drug-producing plantmoths. All arable land had been dedicated to raising the nialia plants for the rebellious Designate’s continued corruption and conquest.
Zan’nh, eyes blazing, stood at the helm of his warliner surveying the changes. Hyrillka, and indeed much of the Horizon Cluster, would require many years before life could return to normal.
Below them the open citadel palace had become a fortress. Thousands of Ildiran guards loyal to the mad Designate swarmed around the hill, preparing to sacrifice themselves in defense of the self-proclaimed Imperator. They carried explosives, launchers, and projectile weapons now turned against other Ildirans.
“Truly, this is a time of great tragedy,” Mage-Imperator Jora’h transmitted to the Adar from his adjacent ship. “Prepare to land our troops. We will capture Rusa’h and take back Hyrillka.”
“It might be more effective, Liege, to simply level the citadel palace from above.” Standing next to Zan’nh in the command nucleus, the Dobro Designate looked remarkably unperturbed as he made the appalling suggestion to the Mage-Imperator. “We have more than enough warliners to do it.”
“We will find another