The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [35]
“You cannot begin to know how much harm you have caused, Admiral.”
As he ushered Jora’h aboard the warliner, Diente gave a slight, stiff bow, but averted his dark eyes. “I will show you to your accustomed stateroom. However, once we depart, my orders are to allow minimal interaction between yourself and my crew. You are to have privacy and solitude.”
Jora’h felt a chill in his soul. Already missing Nira, he tried to reinforce the strength of his heart and mind against the coming ordeal. “And do you understand what that will do to me, leaving the other Ildirans here on the Moon?”
Judging by his mannerisms, he guessed that even Diente did not approve of what Chairman Wenceslas was doing . . . but then, the Chairman no longer sought approval from anyone. “I understand that I have no choice in the matter.”
Jora’h shook his head bitterly. “I thought humans always have a choice.”
“Then you don’t have all the pertinent facts. Follow me.” In leading him up the ramp and along the primary corridors, Diente made a point of showing him all the troops stationed aboard the warliner. “Though this is only a test cruise, we have five hundred EDF soldiers aboard. Please don’t make me do anything I would regret.”
“I am not a fool, Admiral Diente. I must stay alive so that I can save my people. No matter how long it takes.”
“We have an understanding, then.” Diente gestured him into his former elaborate cabin, the large stateroom he had shared with Nira. The entire vessel seemed cold and bleak without her, without his crew.
The Admiral sealed the door behind him. Jora’h did not check to see if it was locked. He didn’t want to know the answer.
Chairman Wenceslas had not bothered to see him off, though no doubt every moment, every movement had been recorded. The Chairman was probably smiling with smug self-congratulation for coming up with this strategy.
For now, with the warliner still orbiting above the lunar base, Jora’h could feel the thism from the Ildiran captives nearby. Later, though, when he felt the warliner’s engines powering up and the great Solar Navy ship began to cruise away, the tenuous lines became more diffuse, stretched out. His people quickly slipped farther away.
Jora’h sat by himself in his brightly lit quarters, clenching his hands, concentrating. He was the Mage-Imperator. He had to master his fear. Though the connection grew fainter with every moment, he could not allow his people to sense his anxiety through the thism. They needed to be strong now — stronger than ever.
When Admiral Diente engaged the stardrive and the warliner leaped into the emptiness of space, Jora’h felt those last strands snap like the strings of a delicate musical instrument played by rough and violent hands.
Gone.
He collapsed onto the comfortable bed, where he and Nira had shared their thoughts and hopes, where they’d had such quiet contentment. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if all the oxygen in the warliner had been sucked out into the frigid, unforgiving vacuum. He had never imagined such incredible emptiness.
Jora’h closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He spread his arms, concentrated, and threw his mind out into the void as far as he could. He searched for anyone, but he felt only cold madness clamoring at him.
“I am the Mage-Imperator!” he cried through clenched teeth. His search continued for any friendly thought to help anchor him. But the universe was a vast and empty place.
To his horror, Jora’h realized that only a few seconds had passed.
* * *
22
Sirix
In the ruins of the Roamer outpost of Forrey’s Folly, Sirix and his black robots marched down the stone tunnels, penetrating deeper into the fortress asteroid. All of the weak human inhabitants were dead, and bodies lay strewn about.
Though the honeycombed asteroid was protected by erratically orbiting chunks of rock, it had been a trivial operation for Sirix’s robots to plan and carry out an invasion of the outpost. In one swift operation, they had collapsed the atmospheric domes, opened bulkheads