Blood of the Cosmos (67 page)

At first he wept just to see the bright sparkle of stars in the real universe, a nearby sun, a planet below. Rod'h could sense something down there, calling. As if a blindfold had been removed and plugs taken from his ears, he felt the
thism
again, bright and intense. There were Ildirans down on that planet … as well as Osira'h and Tamo'l!

This must be Kuivahr, the Ildiran sanctuary world. The creatures of darkness had come to gather two more of his halfbreed siblings. Experimental subjects, just like him!

Then he remembered what else Tamo'l did down there in the sanctuary domes. All those misbreeds … genetic anomalies, outcasts with painfully visible flaws, but very poorly understood abilities. The shadows wanted to snuff them out, too! Or maybe test them for hidden skills.

He felt a shudder in the entropy bubble around him. The huge hex ships slowly turned, reorienting themselves toward the doomed planet. The Shana Rei began to spin off hex plates that whirled down to low orbit, connecting edge-to-edge, forming another black barrier.

Rod'h knew what they were going to do: they would not just seize his two sisters; they would destroy the world as well. At the Onthos home, the Shana Rei had created a Dyson sphere so enormous that it englobed an entire star system. This time, though, they would merely encase the planet in an impenetrable suffocating shell of black. The entire planet.

Countless hex components made the shell grow, swiftly, inexorably. The Shana Rei were in no hurry. They were relentless.

In desperation, Rod'h used his special connection to anchor himself with Tamo'l, with Osira'h. His older sister had always been the strongest of Nira's children, and he clutched at that strength now. He had to warn them.

“Osira'h!” he cried out in his mind.

He felt her realize that he was there, and Tamo'l also recognized the contact. His sisters were at first overjoyed, then terrified. He could feel Osira'h trying to shore up his strength from a distance, Tamo'l adding her mind and her connection, as well. Rod'h longed to be with them, to beg for help and to feel relief, but instead, he summoned all of his energy to send out one blasting command, knowing that his sisters would understand—and he prayed that they would obey.

“Do not try to help me. Escape! You must escape!”

 

CHAPTER

115

LEE ISWANDER

Despite several setbacks, Lee Iswander was ready to reclaim his prominence among the Roamer clans. His success was incontrovertible, and since he was the sole provider of cheap and plentiful ekti-X, many Roamers depended on him too.

Oh, he didn't care that the clans disliked him. That was to be expected when a man became unexpectedly successful. Iswander was prepared for that. But after the tragedy on Sheol, which devastated his lava-processing facility and cost 1,543 lives, he had been taken aback when the Roamers
turned on him
, rather than supporting him through the difficulty. They didn't like his clothes or his attitude; they claimed he was too much like the hated, old Terran Hanseatic League, yet they snubbed him for doing exactly what Roamers were supposed to do.

For centuries, the clans had risked much, taken gambles in inhospitable environments, tried to do the impossible, and when such attempts failed—as they often did—those risk takers were seen as martyrs, the situations tragic. But when it happened to Lee Iswander, they accused him of hubris.

Rather than being defeated by circumstances, he had quietly rebuilt his fortune in record time, and now Iswander Industries provided a vital commodity to all the clans. They might resent him for that, but they could not ignore him. At what point would he grow powerful and wealthy enough for them to accept clan Iswander again?

Besides, they'd had months of the incompetent Speaker Sam Ricks, whom they had elected in Iswander's stead. He wouldn't berate them for their stupid mistake, simply give them an opportunity to fix it. He wanted to be the grownup in the room. And he had the proof to take Ricks down.

He had left his main extraction field in the capable hands of Elisa Enturi and Alec Pannebaker, and they would continue producing stardrive fuel at the facility's peak capacity.

Arriving at the Roamer capital, he had been shocked to learn about the recent destruction of Ulio Station. The attack was a terrible reminder of the dangerous enemies abroad in the Spiral Arm, and the clans were all on edge. Ulio was a major commercial hub and transfer point for all sorts of Roamer products, as well as Iswander Industries' main distribution channel for ekti-X. Its loss was quite a blow to all of the clans.

Obviously, even Elisa hadn't known; with no green priest at the extraction field, they were cut off from the happenings in the Confederation. When he became Speaker, Iswander would rectify that.

For now, he had a proposal and a plan. He had a bargain to offer that would benefit many, if not all, of the clans.

The question was, would they listen?

At Newstation, he called a clan convocation to address all Roamers on “matters regarding ekti-X,” because they would all attend to hear that topic, expecting to receive some clue to his miraculous process.

When it was nearly time for him to address the clan representatives, Iswander paced in his VIP suite, practicing and reviewing. He wished Elisa were here to advise him, but he was on his own.

For the occasion, Iswander considered wearing a traditional Roamer jumpsuit with his clan markings embroidered on the pockets and sleeves. He knew his formal business suit was like a thorn in their side; every time they saw him dressed professionally, he looked like a stranger to them, an outsider. But if he now wore the traditional jumpsuit—which he never did—they would plainly see it as pandering. It would ring entirely false.

Business suit it was, then.

Back at the extraction yard, he had compiled his dossier on Sam Ricks and reviewed it with Elisa. The man's incompetence was obvious, and the number of sloppy treaties, dropped balls, and unfinished actions was stunning. Iswander finally held all the cards, and he would play his hand.

When he arrived in the convocation chamber, he smiled to see how full it was. Although this wasn't a friendly crowd, it was quite different from the Speaker election, when he'd been disgraced by receiving only one vote. He had earned enough clout with his cheap stardrive fuel that they were inclined to pay attention; in fact, many of these clans would want a piece of his ekti-X business. He was sure of it.

The only truly angry ones were the traditional skyminers, whose giant and expensive cloud-harvesting facilities were rapidly becoming obsolete. There was nothing he could do about that.

As he strode into the common area, someone called from the fourth tier of the curved seats. “Come to share your secrets, Iswander? Tell us all how we can produce ekti-X!” He didn't recognize the middle-aged woman, didn't recognize many of these people from their faces alone. Unlike Sam Ricks, he had never been one for glad-handing and schmoozing. “Clans are supposed to stick together.”

“Oh?” He crossed his arms as he took his place at the podium. “Like you all stuck with me in my time of need after Sheol?”

“A lot of people died because of your incompetence—including three of my cousins,” growled an overweight young man.

“What happened at Sheol was an accident and a tragedy, and I could name plenty of other tragedies in Roamer history. I tried something bold and profitable, and the planet turned against me, just as hostile environments have turned against many Roamers.” He glowered at them. “How can you blame me? How can you make me an outcast among Roamers? It's a core principle that we
take risks
. We make bold gestures and search for out-of-the-way resources that we can make commercially viable. That's why we originally took over skymining operations from the Ildiran Empire, because we could do it better!

“You revere Kotto Okiah as a great genius—but go back and look at Isperos or Jonah 12. Count the casualties from his operations that failed over the years.” He looked around, challenging them. “I'll bet it's a lot more than the number we lost at Sheol.” He knew it was true, because he had, in fact, counted carefully before considering the comment.

“Iswander Industries is trying to bridge the gap between disorganized Roamer clans and the needs of the Confederation … the needs of
all of us
. Yes, I have a new, efficient way to create stardrive fuel, and that's made me wealthy again—enough to make up for all my losses at Sheol. My people made the ekti-X discovery before any of you did, and I profited from it. Why do you resent me for it? Any Roamer clan would have done the same thing.” He straightened his suit jacket and calmed himself. “That is the price of technological advancement. That is the way civilization changes.”

He paused to look at all of them, and he even remembered to smile. “My operations are both a blessing and a curse. I can produce ekti-X faster than I can possibly distribute and sell it. My primary delivery venue was Ulio Station, which has just been destroyed, and that changes the entire trading landscape in the Spiral Arm. I am hoping some of you will be interested in solving that bottleneck.”

That got their attention.

“I'm looking for people—good Roamers, maybe—to help deliver it all. I have enough to make a lot of clans very wealthy … if anyone's interested?” He let his words hang as he listened to the startled murmurs in the audience. Many clan members were clearly excited, while others—mostly old-school skyminers—looked very angry.

“Our economy will change and our business will change,” Iswander continued. “We have to be adaptable—as Roamers usually are. But this is a large-scale business, and we have to be efficient. We need to be
competent
.”

He spun to look at Sam Ricks, who was lounging, aloof, as he listened to the speech. Ricks had no idea what was coming, and Iswander dropped the hammer. “We need a Speaker who is not a buffoon.”

That stopped the murmuring.

Sam Ricks sat up, blinking in surprise. Several angry grumbles came from the seats, but the deepening silence was enough to let Iswander know he wasn't the only one thinking such thoughts. He pulled up the dossier he had brought, projecting it on the room's wallscreen. “When I ran for the office, I understand why most of you didn't vote for me. It was too soon after Sheol. But, now you've had months with Speaker Ricks, and you've had a chance to see the sort of person you elected. I suspect many of you have buyer's remorse.”

He projected files, pointing out item after item. “In just a few months, Speaker Ricks has fumbled eleven important treaties, failed to provide requested aid to four needy clans—simply because he lost the paperwork. He's been late to thirty-four scheduled meetings, and I have evidence that he accepted numerous bribes.” Iswander narrowed his eyes. “Or you can call them ‘gifts,' if you're feeling kind. The only legislation he's managed to pass benefited close friends of his.” He blinked calmly, waiting for the uproar. “I have full documentation of these claims for anyone who's interested.”

Ricks spluttered. “Now wait a minute, this wasn't on the schedule.”

“I'm putting it on the schedule! I reviewed the rules in detail, the clan agreements that have stood since the first days of Rendezvous. It is within my rights! I am a Roamer, and I have presented evidence. I call for a no-confidence vote in Speaker Ricks, so that he may be removed from office. With the changes in society and the danger the clans now face from the Shana Rei, we need decisive and competent leadership.”

That provoked a storm of conversation. Ricks didn't seem to know what to do—obviously because he had never read the clan constitution in the first place.

Iswander remained calm at the podium. “The same goes for any potential new business associates who are interested in partnering with me.
Competence.
If I'm going to make a new alliance and form lucrative partnerships, I have to know how reliable my new associates are.”

There—even the most dim-witted fools in the audience would see the clear connection. Their actions in the next hour would decide the course of clan history. If they wanted to do business with him, they needed to get rid of Ricks. Iswander drew a breath. Yes, he felt much more confident now.

At the doorway, even louder than the buzz of conversation, he heard a shout. Three people and a Friendly-model compy barged into the convocation chamber. “We need to interrupt the proceedings!” shouted a woman with long blond hair. Iswander recognized Tasia Tamblyn and Robb Brindle, the two acting heads of Kett Shipping. Maybe they'd come to fight for their own ekti-X distribution monopoly. The other woman was Orli Covitz, who had come to his extraction yard nearly dead from an alien plague. But she had flown off with Garrison Reeves some time ago. What was she doing here? He didn't understand what this was about.

“This is Roamer business,” Iswander said. “We were about to call a vote—”

Tasia gave him a look of such venom that he stopped speaking. “We have been to the source of the Iswander ekti-X operations. And we've also seen where his people massacred clan Duquesne to eliminate any competition. He killed everyone, wiped out their entire facility, destroyed all their ships and tankers. Iswander Industries is so desperate to keep the secret that they're willing to kill anyone who finds out.”

Iswander blinked, unable to find words to answer. What was this woman talking about? Tasia, Robb, and Orli stood together, looking disgusted and furious.

“Where is clan Duquesne?” demanded Speaker Ricks, as if it was finally a question he could understand. He looked around the rows of seats.

“Didn't show up,” said somebody else. “Not Aaron, not an alternate.”

Robb Brindle said, “It's true. We have the last logs of clan Duquesne, and the images are proof. They're all dead.”