The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [88]
Though Jora’h was no expert in the nuances of human emotions, even he could see that the Archfather looked nauseated by the words he was forced to speak. The bearded Unison spokesman seemed offended by the very idea of suggesting, on religious grounds, that the black robots were tantamount to saviors.
If only the Archfather had been so obviously offended by the idea of kidnapping the leader of the Ildiran Empire. . . .
Frustrated, and dismissive, now that the Mage-Imperator had failed to yield, the Hansa Chairman abruptly removed Jora’h and Nira from their quarters in the Whisper Palace and sent them back to the Moon, accompanied by Captain McCammon and a group of royal guards. Holding their heads high, Jora’h and the green priest boarded the shuttle and prepared to depart. No newsnet imagers were allowed to attend the event.
Though he would be closer to his fellow hostages, being returned to the lunar base brought Jora’h neither joy nor satisfaction. He needed to be back on Ildira. He needed to be fighting the faeros.
As the EDF transport ship made the passage to the Moon, Jora’h sat quietly with Nira on the cold metal seats. She clutched his hand, and he loved her nearness; yet he needed more than that.
Captain McCammon watched them, saying nothing. The guard captain was hard to read, possibly sympathetic, definitely reticent.
After the shuttle docked inside one of the enclosed lunar craters, Jora’h took Nira by the arm and emerged from the shuttle into the dusty landing zone, looking cool and imperial. McCammon and his royal guards followed closely.
The Ildiran guard kithmen, stripped of their weapons, stood against the back wall to watch the Mage-Imperator’s arrival. The bestial-looking guard kithmen swelled their armored chests, simmering with the desire to do something. Many prisoners from the captured warliner had been allowed into the chamber to witness the reception. Jora’h guessed that his people had been unruly and agitated in his absence. He did not try to hide his grim smile.
An EDF squad led by Commandant Tilton stepped forward to receive them formally. “I didn’t expect to say this, but I am glad to have you back here, Mage-Imperator. I hope that now I can expect a return to order on my base.” He had never wanted to host these hostages in the first place.
Jora’h faced the embarrassed-looking lunar commandant. “The Chairman has sent us to rot here while my planet burns and my people die by the thousands each day.”
Though they were heavily outnumbered, the growling Ildiran guards flexed their enlarged muscles and claws. If Yazra’h had been here, she would have thrown herself upon the enemy without a second thought.
Commandant Tilton paled, and his men seemed uneasy, holding their weapons ready. Another squad of EDF soldiers marched into the landing bay, guarding the doors, as if to remind the Mage-Imperator that it would be foolish to try anything.
Through the thism, Jora’h could feel the barely contained fury of the guards. They were ready to explode, desperate to do something, with no concern for their own well-being. He knew that every Ildiran here was willing to sacrifice himself so the Mage-Imperator could get away.
The wave of emotion pushed against him like a strong wind. Jora’h knew that further talk wouldn’t help, and that bowing to the Chairman’s foolish demands wouldn’t work. There would be no opportunity to carefully plan an escape. The guard kithmen waited for any hint of instructions from him, seething for their chance.
He knew that each of his soldiers could easily take down several humans. They were not as outnumbered as they appeared to be. And his own warliner was right here at the lunar base.
Jora’h made his decision. Desperation demanded desperate moves. With the tiniest of motions, connected to all of his guards through the thism, the Mage-Imperator gave his implicit permission for them to act. Go.
The response was blindingly