Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [228]
The ships headed low over the flat, fertile ground where infinite rows of waving, fluttering plantmoths grew tall, expanding their blossoms, swelling their tangled stems. Hyrillkan workers saw the big ships coming and scattered.
Zan’nh gripped the rail of the elevated platform. “Wide dispersal of our energy beams with enough thermal output to wither all of those nialias.”
“Patterning locked in, Adar.”
He turned to his flight controller. “Move in a slow, graceful glide to be sure we don’t miss a single stalk.” Then he nodded to the weapons station. “Fire at will.”
Hot beams lanced out from the foremost warliner, mowing down and igniting the writhing nialias. The other warliners followed suit.
Mobile male plantmoths broke free and flew upward, dispersing like startled butterflies. They swirled around, caught in the thermal updraft and drawn to the flames. In the wake of the warliners, only blackened husks remained, charred vines pointing like skeletal fingers toward the sky.
The fields were so extensive that even with more than three hundred warliners it still took hours to complete the initial sweep. Zan’nh never wavered. The battleships continued their rout, blasting the shiing production fields. Steam boiled up from the newly dug canals; murky smoke and soot streamed from the devastation. The blackened land and destroyed fields reminded Zan’nh of the hydrogue attack that had struck Hyrillka only a year earlier.
But he had no cause to compare himself to the alien marauders. He stared at the path of ruin. “Continue firing.”
Sensor alarms sounded, and orbital first-warning satellites announced the arrival of more and more Ildiran battleships. His scan operator turned to him, wide-eyed. “Forty-five warliners, Adar. They’re coming toward us fully armed, in attack mode.”
Zan’nh crossed his arms over his uniformed chest. “So my brother has returned with the rest of the maniple he stole.” Given Thor’h’s penchant for violence, the Adar knew the impending battle could be the saddest, and bloodiest, ever recorded in the Saga of Seven Suns. Nevertheless, he allowed himself a calm, determined smile. His brother had much to answer for.
“Recall all warliners from the nialia fields. Now we’re in for a fight.”
Chapter 116—MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H
The Solar Navy’s ground assault teams surrounded the strategic hill and settled in for a cautious siege. They wore full body armor and carried traditional Ildiran weapons, testing the entrenched defenses of Rusa’h. Thick smoke filled the sky.
Designate Udru’h paced the paved ground, scowling up at the citadel palace. “Liege, we have more than enough personnel and weaponry to seize the palace and capture the Hyrillka Designate.”
Closely guarded, a pensive Jora’h walked beside him. “I need to resolve this in a way that proves I am the true and legitimate Mage-Imperator, Udru’h. If I simply slaughter all those who oppose me, am I really better than my brother?”
Udru’h waved the question away, as if the answer was obvious. “You are better because you are the Mage-Imperator.”
Jora’h touched the threads of thism in his mind, felt the empty silence of the gap where his lunatic brother had torn his people from the overall web. Jora’h could not just let them all go. The Empire must be made whole again; the Hyrillkans must be returned to the pure glow of the Lightsource.
Before the siege preparations were completed, Rusa’h’s corrupted followers up in the citadel palace let out a loud cheer. Jora’h gazed upward as one of his septars rushed to him. “Forty-five more warliners have arrived, Liege! They are under the command of Prime Designate Thor’h.”
Jora’h replied in a voice honed sharp by anger at his treacherous son. “Thor’h is no longer the Prime Designate. A traitor to the Ildiran Empire can never stand in line to be the next Mage-Imperator.”
The officer looked flustered. “With the rest of the cohort, we outnumber them sevenfold—but they are not slowing. Will they surrender?”
Jora’h met the Dobro Designate’s gaze, and both of