“You’ll understand my reluctance to share proprietary operations.” His expression darkened; his voice became harder. “Since everyone turned their backs on me in my company’s time of greatest crisis, I need to protect my assets.” Then he seemed to remember where he was. His expression softened, and he smiled again. “As I said, my operations could benefit the entire human race. The ekti-X I brought is my token of thanks for all of your hard work in holding the Confederation together. I expect my business to expand greatly in the coming year.”
Peter thought that Iswander looked too smug, as if he had succeeded in washing all the blood from his hands. “You remind me of Chairman Basil Wenceslas, Mr. Iswander.”
The Roamer man nodded, accepting the assessment as a compliment, though Peter certainly had not intended it as such.
SEVENTY-TWO
AELIN
When he heard that Lee Iswander had come to Theroc with his new business success, against all odds, Aelin knew what he had to do. He hadn’t realized it before, but he had been waiting a long time for this. Shelud was already gone on a great adventure with clan Reeves on a derelict alien station. He could do no less!
Iswander’s return was, in and of itself, an act of bravery, Aelin thought. Many other company heads, when confronted with such a terrible disaster, would have gone into permanent hiding, unable to face the shame and the accusations. But Lee Iswander refused to be defeated. By his demeanor now, the industrialist looked strong, and Aelin found his optimism and determination inspirational. Maybe he deserved another chance after all.
Mr. Iswander had always made an impression on him. While recovering from his treedancing accident when he was young, Aelin had a window near the spaceport landing zone. As his broken leg healed, he watched the commercial ships, Roamer vessels of all kinds, diplomatic yachts for planetary reps, and exotic visiting Ildiran shuttles.
One day, he saw Mr. Iswander arrive in a fancy cruiser. Though his leg wasn’t entirely healed, Aelin felt restless and hobbled out to see the ships. He tried to sneak aboard the Iswander Industries cruiser, hoping to stow away and see other planets, but his plan was poorly thought out, and he was caught. The crew tried to chase him off, but Iswander took pity on the young Theron man, took him aboard, and showed him around. During an hour-long tour, Iswander was interrupted so many times that he finally sent Aelin away with apologies. “I’m sorry, that’s all the time I can spare.”
Nevertheless, he had shown Aelin what he needed to see—how important such a man was. Whole planets, the Confederation, the Roamer clans, all depended on Iswander’s business. It made Aelin realize how parochial the previous concerns of his life had been. He never forgot the impression Lee Iswander made on him.
Now, while Iswander was meeting with the King and Queen, Aelin made inquiries about speaking with the man before he departed. But Lee Iswander had filed no formal schedule, and the green priest couldn’t figure out how he might make an appointment. So, he climbed to the canopy landing field, found the Iswander Industries shuttle, and hunkered down to wait…
Several hours later, when the sky was darkening at sunset and the blue moths came out, Lee Iswander returned to his ship and was surprised to find a green priest waiting for him.
Aelin rose to his feet and gave a formal, uncertain bow. “Mr. Iswander, my name is Aelin. I’m a green priest.”
Iswander eyed him up and down, wearing a cautious, polite smile. “I can see that.”
Aelin had trouble getting his words out. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but when I was just a boy—”
Iswander’s smile widened. “Yes! The curious one with the broken leg.”
“Yes, sir. Would you possibly have any use for a green priest in your operations? I could send any messages you like through telink, and I have access to the knowledge in the worldforest.” Aelin had already checked, and although Iswander had made a few peremptory inquiries about using telink services in his Sheol operations, the industrialist had no green priest working for him yet in his mysterious new venture.
Iswander looked at him for a long moment, as if running a thorough analysis. “My operations are high security. I can’t have any proprietary details shared with the rest of the Confederation.”
“Green priests work in strict confidence, Mr. Iswander. We’re trusted in commercial operations, isolated colonies, even aboard the CDF fleet. I would transmit no information without your permission.”
The industrialist pondered again, longer this time, weighing suspicions, then discarding them. “Considering our isolation, and my wide-ranging activities, I’ve often thought a green priest could be useful for instantaneous communication—not to mention an emergency link—but also to monitor the activities of other ekti producers, the ebbs and flows of the market.” He narrowed his eyes. “But how can I be reassured that you would keep my business secrets? I would lose a great deal if a competitor discovered what I’m doing.”
Aelin blinked at him. “I’m a green priest, sir. I give you my word.” He didn’t know if that could be enough.
Iswander finally said, “I do remember you, young man. I saw something in your eyes… and, yes, green priests are considered trustworthy. So I’ll take you at your word. What you see must remain strictly confidential, unless I give you permission to reveal any details. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Iswander opened the hatch of his shuttle and motioned Aelin aboard. “Join me, and I’ll show you something quite remarkable.”
SEVENTY-THREE
DALE REEVES
Each new chamber they opened contained dead aliens.
Dale and Shelud found the mummified creatures preserved by the cold, desiccated space environment. The first ones were sprawled in the corridor, like discarded rag dolls. Their skin was gray and discolored by blotches. The puckered eyelids had turned into iron-hard leather, their lips drawn back as muscles contracted to reveal tiny rounded teeth.
The bodies were naked. The preserved skin looked hard and smooth, and they appeared sexless, as if they were all dolls made from an identical mold. Dale recognized the Onthos from the images in the library chamber. He found it strange for a race to be in such a large city with no garments, no pockets, no adornments. Shelud, who wore only a loincloth, did not think it unusual.
The green priest paused at the open hatch. “They’re all dead.” In order to explore farther, he would have to step over the fallen alien bodies.
Dale tried to be brave. “Of course they are—it’s been thousands of years. Now we know where at least some of them went.” The mystery of this gigantic empty city had grated on him like a subsonic vibration. “Not knowing is more frightening than the truth.”
He ventured ahead, and Shelud followed. They opened the habitation chambers. Doors scraped and groaned aside to reveal more stacked bodies, some carefully arranged, some sprawled in desperate positions, arms and legs at odd angles.
In a large gathering chamber, they found hundreds of the Onthos. Dale turned away and instinctively covered his mouth, but after so much time the only smell that lingered was a papery sweetness that reminded him of tobacco.
Shelud stared at the corpses. The aliens had died together, and in a relatively short period of time. They looked as if they had known their fate. “How could they all have died at once?” Shelud asked.
The green priest had spent his life on Theroc and didn’t understand the rigors of living in space. Dale explained, “Okiah is an isolated city, entirely dependent on energy systems, air, water, and food brought in from outside. One small failure could have been enough.”