A few more Roamer ships were still crowding into the Kutuzov’s bays. She could give the Plumas workers a few more minutes as she set up.
Adar Zan’nh’s normally implacable face showed deep concern. “Very well, General, I will trust your instincts. The Solar Navy is ready to depart.”
She turned to Ron Tamblyn and gave him instructions. He broadcast on a frequency that the CDF didn’t use, instructing his tanker pilots to eject and to make their way immediately to the nearest battleship. The barrage of complaints that came back was loud enough to make Tamblyn flinch.
Keah said, “Tell them they’ve got five minutes. No excuses, no apologies.” She turned to her navigator. “Mr. Tait, set a course for us to get out of here.”
“Yes, General. Informing our other vessels as well—all the ones we’ve got left.”
The tanker pilots ejected their tiny evacuation pods, and some of the last-wave Roamer ships scooped them up and pulled them into the nearest Manta cruiser landing bay.
Keah let out a sigh. “Mr. Patton, train our jazers on one of those tankers. Inform your counterparts to do the same and wait for my signal.”
“A smoke screen,” said Patton. “Yes, General.”
When the tanker evac pods had tumbled aboard the waiting CDF ships, Keah gave her order. As the black robot ships continued to attack, jazers exploded the tankers and vaporized their contents. The detonation was powerful enough to spread water vapor in a huge, dense cloud.
It was exactly what they needed.
The vapor cloud engulfed the robot vessels, blinding them, along with the CDF ships. In a last glimpse, Keah saw the Solar Navy warliners wheel about and accelerate away.
Ron Tamblyn stared at the tanker explosions and at the crushed ice moon, seeing in the water droplets a few billion tears for his facilities and his lost friends.
“Helm, full acceleration! Let’s get out of here.”
She would have preferred to score a clear victory rather than just getting away alive, but their survival was vital. She had to report this to the Confederation. The data they had gathered would form the basis for developing new defenses for the CDF and the Solar Navy.
And she wanted a lot of those sun bombs.
She muttered, “Well, Z, looks like we found that unexpected enemy after all.”
NINETY-SEVEN
OSIRA’H
The Ildiran mirror ballet was one of Osira’h’s favorite displays in the city of Mijistra, and she knew that Prince Reynald from Theroc had never seen anything like it. As much as she looked forward to the spectacle, she would spend most of her time watching the sparkle in his eyes.
Reyn was content to see whatever Osira’h wanted to show him, although he was weary of the crowds that followed them everywhere. “My parents sent me here to experience Ildiran culture. While your doctors keep running tests to figure out what’s wrong with me, I should do what I came here for.”
“Then I’ll show you Ildira and tell you everything you need to know.” She found the young man interesting.
The mirror ballet was held in a large arena, taking place whenever all seven of Ildira’s suns were visible in the sky. Today, the double sun of Qronha was low to the horizon and mostly obscured by buildings, but even so, the mirror ballet was performed.
Reyn wore filmgoggles to protect against the intense light inside the arena, and misters dispersed jets of vapor to cool the air, with the added benefit that the humid haze intensified the rainbows for the kinetic-prism part of the performance.
Because of her status, Osira’h reserved a private observation box for herself and Reyn, so that the two of them could relax in solitude during the performance, although the ever-present entourage didn’t seem to understand why they might like to be alone. When a dozen noble kithmen and courtiers crowded into the small box to join them, Osira’h noted Reyn’s flicker of weary disappointment. Glad that she had solved this problem in advance, she instructed the others to leave. “I have arranged special seats for you near the conductor. The Prince and I have important political matters to discuss in private.”
When she and Reyn had the observation box to themselves, he gave her a curious look. “Important political matters?”
Osira’h chuckled. “We’ll think of something. I just didn’t want to be crowded.”
He let out a sigh. “I am glad for just a little peace.”
In the arena, chrome-plated sculptures rose out of compartments in the ground; their articulated arms were studded with large round lenses. Curved mirrors swung into position to direct light into rotating prisms that bobbed up and down like photonic pistons. Reflective slats in the domed ceiling turned downward on louvers and aimed the light into the performance area.
The ballet conductor brought forth an array of laser projectors, which looked like some kind of bizarre weapons system. Rich beams of varied hues danced through the low-hanging mist. The play of lights, mirrors, lasers, and vapor created a hypnotic cat’s cradle of colors.
The Ildiran audience cheered. Some blew on shrill pipes, making a piercing noise that signified their appreciation. Osira’h tore her gaze from the beautiful display to look at Reyn. Even behind his protective filmgoggles, she could see an excited shine in his eyes, and she knew she had chosen the right thing to show him. “I’m glad you like it.”
She saw a flicker of pain cross his face like a sudden quake. He flinched, squeezed his eyes shut, and struggled to concentrate. Finally, he drove back the nerve spasm.
Although the medical kithmen found Reyn’s sickness intriguing, they had offered no breakthroughs. Yet. They had studied his genetic samples, requested several other tests. With their full attention, they pored over the cause, the symptoms, and possible treatments to mitigate his pain. Confederation doctors might have access to more background in the morphology of human diseases, but Osira’h knew that Ildiran medical kithmen had an added drive, since they were trying to find a cure for Reyn in the name of the Mage-Imperator.
She had also sent data and samples to her sister Tamo’l on Kuivahr, where she could study them in her sanctuary domes. Her own medical researchers might have ideas. Osira’h was determined to find some help for him.
As the ballet continued, she reached out and took Reyn’s hand, squeezing hard, focusing her thoughts as if she could break down his barriers. She summoned the considerable mental powers she had inherited from her green priest mother and her father, the Mage-Imperator. That combination of telepathic skills had allowed her to command the hydrogues and the faeros. Now, however, she was just trying to open herself up to Reyn. She wanted to touch his mind and console him.
Alas, as hard as she tried to break through, the Prince felt no contact. His mind was silent to her, and his thoughts remained his own.
Nevertheless, even without telepathy, he seemed to draw strength from her presence.
After the ballet, they visited her brother Gale’nh, with his bleached skin and hair. Despite his wan appearance, Gale’nh seemed to improve each day. While the Adar’s training maniple was away, engaged in intensive combat exercises with the CDF, Gale’nh wore his formal tal uniform, as if it kept him connected to the Solar Navy. Osira’h knew he wanted to be out there with Adar Zan’nh.
When she introduced him to Reyn, Gale’nh touched his own pale skin and explained, “I looked into the shadows that killed every other person aboard the Kolpraxa.” He walked across his room and stared out at the curved crystalline towers of the city. “I have no wish to fight them again, but the creatures of darkness are still out there.” He wrapped his arms around himself, as if huddling in the light.