Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [234]
“There won’t be any shelter unless we can send a transmission to the hydrogues,” Idriss said. “Or call for help.”
“A transmission?” Celli said in a squawk. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea to me.”
“What makes you think they’ll listen?” Solimar asked. “They mean to destroy the worldforest.”
Willfully ignoring the question, Idriss pointed in frustration at the controls. “Is it this one?”
Solimar hurried forward. “If you insist on this, then let me show you.” Always mechanically inclined, he had an intuitive grasp of comm systems and other technology.
“You know what the hydrogues are, Father,” Celli said. “Do you really expect them to respond?”
Idriss glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he looked much older than she had ever seen him. “The green priests are already sending messages through telink, but the hydrogues will have slaughtered us before anyone can get here.”
Solimar stepped back, and the system hummed. “It’s ready to transmit. Prepped for a full spectrum of frequencies.”
Idriss took the controls. “This is Father Idriss of the Theron people. We are a peaceful people, who have done nothing to you. Please leave us alone. We are not your enemies.”
Celli looked hard at her bearded father. “The hydrogues have always considered the verdani their enemies. Because we work for the trees, they hate us—all of us. They will not stop until this entire planet is a cinder.”
“We demand to meet with an ambassador, like you sent to Earth,” Idriss stated, sounding ridiculously naive, for he had already seen the hydrogues devastate the forests. His voice was plaintive. “Please do not do this.”
The response that came back over the new communications system surprised them all. And it wasn’t from the hydrogues. It was a human voice. “Don’t worry, we’ll protect you.” Then a pause. “I hope this works.”
Mother Alexa leaned over the transmitter. “Who is this? Please help us, whoever you are.”
“Oh, sorry. This is Kotto Okiah. Looks like we arrived not a moment too soon. Those drogues won’t know what hit them...uh, if my calculations are correct.”
Celli remembered the eccentric Roamer engineer, whose ambitious schemes had helped rebuild the Theron settlements. When the last Roamer workers had fled, knowing the EDF was hunting them down, the clan members had been fully aware that the hydrogues were bound to return to Theroc.
Celli rushed to one of the open windows in the thick fungus-reef wall. Although it seemed impossible that the renegade space gypsies would have any effective weapon against the warglobes, it made more sense than her father’s ill-advised attempt at negotiation.
In the sky, she saw a ragtag group of Roamer ships, a dozen battered old vessels, each of a different design. The warglobes seemed to ignore the small craft, probably considering them irrelevant. Without pausing, the clan ships flew in to face the giant spiked spheres. Celli couldn’t imagine what they were thinking. The Roamers looked totally doomed.
Chapter 119—IMPERATOR RUSA’H
The once-bright thism was unraveling all around him. The soul-threads that Rusa’h had seen so clearly and held so tightly now slipped like razor wires through his fingers. How could the corrupt Mage-Imperator be so strong?
The pain of this was greater than sliced skin and imagined blood loss. All the nialia fields had been obliterated, and there would be no more shiing. Although his fortified citadel palace was still crowded with loyal guards, lens kithmen, pleasure mates, attenders, and doctors, the Mage-Imperator’s men pushed closer, working their way through the defenses. Rusa’h had never dreamed his brother would be willing to kill.
Two of the septars from his commandeered Solar Navy maniple also remained at Rusa’h’s side as military advisers. Even their tactical expertise could not offer him a way to escape, much less achieve victory. The news was desperate.
From the open citadel, Rusa’h watched Thor’h and his battleships go on a rampage, but most of the warliners had slipped