The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [217]
“We’ve got to get out of here while the Klikiss are incapacitated. This meeting is at an end.” He felt hamstrung, not knowing how long the paralysis would last, and he could not guess how the erratic breedex would react if, or when, it regained consciousness. He did not want to be here when it did. “Run.”
Neither Margaret nor Anton argued. They had seen the Davlin personality subsumed. Together, they hurried along the twisting organic corridors, trying to remember the way back to the shuttle. When they finally reached the landing chamber, they found Klikiss warriors standing around the diplomatic ship like nightmarish sculptures. Their armored forelimbs were raised, spiny head-crests tilted back as if ready for attack. They didn’t move.
“Open!” he shouted to the pilot. “Open, dammit!” The hatch slid aside, and he bounded up the ramp.
“Mr. Chairman, you’re alive!” the pilot cried.
“Obviously. Get the engines started.” This strange species paralysis could end at any moment — or, if the Confederation was behind this, Peter could try to blow up the swarmship, and he’d certainly have no scruples about doing it while the Chairman was aboard.
With a lurch that threw the passengers off balance, the shuttle lifted from the slick resin floor, and the pilot guided them away. They accelerated out of the mouthlike cavern and emerged from the core, passing through an atmosphere-containment field and heading toward the closely packed component ships that served as an indistinct external shell. But rather than forming a rigid barrier, the component ships now drifted aimlessly, spreading apart.
Although the small alien vessels provided an overall geometrical shape to the swarmship, they were not physically connected. Gaps between the listless component craft gave the pilot just enough room to squeak between them. Within moments, they were free and flying away from the alien vessel into blessedly open space.
Then Basil spotted the wreckage of his EDF ships. He took in the disaster at a glance: the debris, the dying fires, the twisted ruins of General Brindle’s command. The carnage was appalling.
The Confederation battle group, however, was unharmed.
“Damn you, Peter,” Basil yelled. “Damn you!”
* * *
151
Nikko Chan Tylar
We just barely got away from the Klikiss on Llaro, and we scraped past the faeros on Jonah 12,” Crim Tylar muttered. “Now look what you’ve gotten us into, Nikko.”
“Yes. That’s my plan.”
Following the thousands of small tree-bubbles that swept like a deadly hailstorm toward Ildira, the Aquarius and the other water-bearer ships plunged into a bizarre battlefield: wental-encased treelings, mist-swathed Solar Navy warliners, and Confederation vessels from Golgen. Nikko felt the exuberance of the warrior wentals singing through the hull, the new determination that Jess and Cesca had poured into them.
Then the firestorm suddenly increased as blazing reinforcements belched out of the nearby suns. Even though a misty wental sheath protected the Aquarius from the faeros, he didn’t think there was enough moisture to stop the sheer number of fireballs. But he flew into the fray, nevertheless.
His ship’s hold still held a small reservoir of the energized water taken from Charybdis, and those wentals were restless, eager to join the battle. Some of them had formed themselves into icy projectiles, which Nikko’s father and Caleb loaded into the ship’s gunports.
As soon as they got close enough to the wild fireballs, Caleb launched the frozen artillery shells with great pleasure. While Confederation ships concentrated their attack close to Ildira, the water bearers and the wental-encased treelings fought their own battle, heading off to stop the blazing reinforcements emerging from the suns. Caleb shot his projectiles, annihilating one faeros after another. Unfortunately, he soon ran out of shells.
“Scored a hit every single time, but it doesn’t look like I made a dent,” he said, exasperated. “Can’t we make ice projectiles from the rest of the wental water in the hold?”
“If there