The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [103]
Daro’h came to a conclusion he should have thought of much sooner. “The Solar Navy cannot fight the faeros, but they can go to Earth and free the Mage-Imperator.”
“Would that not mean going up against the entire human military fleet?” Yazra’h asked.
Zan’nh was shaking his head. “I understand the Earth Defense Forces. I am familiar with their ships, their command structure, their placement at Earth. If I joined my nine warliners with Tal Ala’nh’s cohort, my force could strike swiftly, rescue the Mage-Imperator, and depart without ever fully engaging their military.”
“We could have the Mage-Imperator back . . .” Yazra’h breathed.
The Prime Designate began to feel the surge of possibilities. “But how do we get the warliners away from Ildira? The fireballs will intercept and destroy them as soon as they try to move.”
Tal O’nh got slowly to his feet. “Let the boy make his attempt. We do not know what he might accomplish. He may die, but he will preoccupy Rusa’h long enough for us to take extreme action.” He turned toward the Adar as if he could watch the expressions play across his face.
Zan’nh stared stonily. “An extreme action . . . something that Adar Kori’nh might have taken, provided there is a chance it could work.” He faced Daro’h, nodding slowly. “Prime Designate, we cannot waste our warliners, but we do possess another playing piece. When the tal first discussed it, the prospect seemed too terrible to consider.”
“We must consider everything,” Daro’h said.
“What is more terrible than granting the faeros free rein over Ildira?” Yazra’h asked.
Zan’nh looked up into the sky. “Our shipyards and spacedocks are hanging in Ildiran orbit — massive, unoccupied industrial facilities.”
The Prime Designate remained puzzled. “They are not armed. They cannot maneuver. How can the shipyards help us?”
“We know Rusa’h is ensconced in the Prism Palace,” Zan’nh pointed out. “We have a chance of destroying him, or at least hurting him, if we strike a powerful enough blow. But first we must accept an unspeakable reality: We will never get Mijistra back.”
* * *
72
Rlinda Kett
This was really stupid, Rlinda knew. Unconscionably, ridiculously stupid. If BeBob tried to do something like this, she would have sealed him in an airlock chamber until he came to his senses.
But Rlinda did it anyway. The Voracious Curiosity was fully fueled and supplied, and she had checked out the new weapons systems. BeBob was due to leave on his next standard trading run, this time to a place called Eldora, so she waited until he left. She flew off when he couldn’t do anything to stop her, leaving only a brief message for him to find when he got back. It was the only way.
She already knew she would regret not asking for his help if — when — the situation got hairy, but BeBob’s new Blind Faith was too perfect, too clean, and he was just too damned proud of it. She was taking a huge risk and didn’t want to worry about anything but herself and her ship.
She would find Davlin Lotze, if he was still alive.
Though she had filed no flight plan, BeBob would figure out where she was going. It was fairly obvious. Nevertheless, she hoped to be back before he could do anything equally stupid. . . .
Though Llaro had been a Hansa colony, it wasn’t one of her usual destinations. Not a terribly scenic place, but Rlinda didn’t plan to do any sightseeing. From space, the world looked as if it had been used roughly, scraped clean, and left exhausted.
Her planetary database identified the site of the former colony. There, she found an extensive complex spreading for many kilometers, a maze of towers and tunnels and incomprehensible structures. “If you’re down there, Davlin, I’m going to have a hell of a time finding you,” she muttered.
She reminded herself again that this was a really stupid idea, but she owed the man too much to give up now. Davlin had saved her too many times, even though she had done her best to return the favor.
Opening a channel on the