By the time he reoriented himself, Orli Covitz had lost herself among the rubble. He continued his pursuit, picking what he thought was her most obvious route. He tried to think the way she would think, see the opportunities as she would see them.
Unfortunately, he guessed wrong.
Maybe the disease was affecting Orli Covitz’s brain, and she was becoming increasingly irrational. Her flight pattern was erratic. When he finally gave up and doubled back, he studied her path, trying to discern a pattern. He picked up his own trail, but it didn’t lead him back to the Proud Mary. Tom Rom felt himself growing angry, but that could not be allowed. Zoe was counting on him.
His greatest fear was that Orli would just let herself die, or that she would self-destruct the ship—before he could get a sample of the disease. Then Zoe would lose that valuable item for her library, perhaps a vital organism.
He realized he should not have been so aggressive initially. Even without being pressed, the woman had offered to give him the data she had compiled. He should have accepted her files so that at least he had something to bring back to Pergamus. Then he could have found a way to take her blood as well.
It did no good to second-guess what he should have done.
He continued to scour the asteroid field. The disease would be worsening. Orli Covitz was going to die soon, and Tom Rom had to find her.
ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT
ARITA
Arita used Sarein’s isolated hiveworm dwelling as a base and spent her days wandering out in the Wild, collecting samples, exploring—and leaving her reclusive aunt alone. The more time they spent together, though, the more intriguing and mysterious Arita found her.
Sarein still didn’t know how to react to having a stranger living with her. Arita had come over to the Wild fully intending to work in solitude, but she had hoped to hear her aunt’s stories about the Hansa and the Elemental War. Sarein had actually been a Theron ambassador trying to build bridges between the isolated and independent forest world and the Terran Hanseatic League!
Arita sensed that if she talked too much, Sarein would ask her to leave. Her aunt seemed to be looking for an excuse to grow annoyed with her, so Arita did not give her one. In the evenings, after coming back from her explorations, Arita didn’t ask questions or try to strike up conversations.
Every day she ranged farther and farther, returning to the hiveworm nest and the small sleeping area Sarein allowed her. As if inspired by her visitor, Sarein had turned her focus to her writing with a renewed vigor, adding extensive sections to her chronicle/confession. Sometimes after dark Sarein went back to her input pad and wrote for hours, glancing up occasionally at Arita as she catalogued her daily samples. Twice, Arita even heard Sarein humming while preoccupied, before the older woman caught herself and fell silent again, turning back to her writing.
One night Arita sat on the branch balcony outside the hiveworm nest and listened to the chirping, humming, simmering sounds of the worldforest after dark. She saw skirling lights, like a mobile constellation, and realized it was a small firefly swarm moving in an intricate ballet; some flew straight up through a gap in the trees, like shooting stars in reverse.
She was startled when Sarein came out to sit on the branch next to her and stared up at the sky visible through the high ceiling of fronds. “There’s so much out there, so many planets… But I’m happy to be here now.”
Arita longed to start a conversation, but wasn’t sure whether or not she’d be successful. “I’ve been to many worlds myself, but I tend to choose isolated ones where I can do my work. On Eljiid, there were Klikiss ruins and a species of cactus that seemed to communicate. They’re called Whistlers.”
Sarein nodded. “When I was your age, I wanted to go away from Theroc too, but I set my sights on Earth. Theron was backward then—I was embarrassed by my own home. We had our green priests and forests, but Father Idriss and Mother Alexa refused to allow trading with the Hansa. I wanted to change all that. I thought it would benefit everyone if we could open commerce—sell worldforest products in Hansa markets, and welcome traders, settlers, visitors, tourists. On Earth, I’d seen the Hansa headquarters, the Whisper Palace, the Chairman himself. Back then, I had so much power, such influence…”
Sarein frowned. “In the end, I achieved everything I wanted, but success wasn’t all I thought it would be.” She continued to stare at the stars. “And when I understood myself better, it brought me back here, full circle.” Though Sarein’s face was in shadow, Arita could see a wistful, forlorn look. Her aunt’s voice was barely a whisper. “Ah, Basil, I’m not even sure how I feel about you anymore.”
Sarein caught herself and stood up quickly. She looked disturbed by her thoughts. “I’m tired. You can stay out here longer, if you like.”
Arita was sure she had broken a thin barrier. Maybe from now on her aunt would give less clipped answers to general questions. Maybe she’d even enjoy Arita’s company, after a fashion…
Before Sarein went to bed, Arita called to her, “Is that why you’re letting me stay here? Because I remind you of yourself when you were my age?”
Sarein answered with an odd laugh. “No. It’s because you don’t.”
ONE HUNDRED AND NINE
KING PETER
The Kutuzov and five other CDF ships arrived at Ildira, where they were met by Solar Navy warliners. General Keah’s flagship had been fully repaired by ambitious crewmembers during the flight carrying King Peter and Queen Estarra, though the hull still showed scarring from the robot and Shana Rei attacks at Plumas. Peter suspected that Keah viewed the marks as a matter of pride, and he noted that some of the colorful Ildiran battleships also showed signs of the recent combat.
On the Juggernaut’s bridge, General Keah turned to Peter and Estarra. “Once the Solar Navy delivers the designs for their sun bombs and laser missiles, I’ll make sure our weapons engineers put them into production at the Lunar Orbital Complex. Maybe our scientists can modify them, intensify them. But they’ll be starting the manufacturing from scratch.”
“Let’s hope we have them ready before the Shana Rei show themselves again,” Peter said.
“I’d rather they didn’t show themselves at all, Sire,” Keah said with a hard smile. “I suppose that’s not an option. We don’t have enough data yet to understand how to fight those things.”
“The Ildirans have more historical records,” Estarra said. “We’ll learn everything we can.”
The General lifted her chin. “You two and the Mage-Imperator can discuss the background and the ramifications. Adar Zan’nh and I will come up with a strategy.”
As their shuttle left the orbiting Kutuzov and descended through the bright atmosphere, forty-nine small streamers zipped past them in a flashy escort. One of the giant warliners even accompanied them down toward the Prism Palace. “The Ildirans always manage to find time for pomp and ceremony,” Peter said with a wry smile.
Keah opened the comm and said conversationally, “You’re such a showoff, Z.”
“Merely demonstrating our capabilities, General. Welcome to Ildira.”
When their shuttle landed at the Prism Palace, the escort streamers looped up and away, performing aerial acrobatics, their reflective hulls glittering in the sunshine. Adar Zan’nh emerged from his streamer and stood ready to accompany them. “When we begin our conversations, only essential personnel will be present,” he said, then lowered his voice. “And guards. We have had recent… security issues.”