Kevin Anderson - The Ashes of Worlds

Willis shouted into the microphone, “Scramble! Scramble! Evasive action.”

Her crews responded instantly. A thick pillar of fire knocked out another Remora, but the remainder of her ships scattered. Now they were too dispersed to provide a good target for the brute-force blasts; on the other hand, they could no longer drop their water effectively.

“Circle around and stand ready,” Willis growled into the comm. “We must’ve hurt the bastards or they wouldn’t be lashing out like that. You’ll have to dump your water from a greater altitude. It won’t be as accurate, but those flame plumes can reach only so high.”

Most of the EDF pilots responded with anger instead of fear. More and more ships streamed in, released their loads from a great height, and circled back to nearby lakes to refill, relentlessly drenching the worldforest.

Finally, through the steam and rain, Willis saw several of the smaller torch trees begin to gutter and go out. She sat back, crossing her arms. “Another couple thousand trips, and we might just have this thing under control.”

14

Patrick Fitzpatrick III

In the belly of the Golgen skymine, shouting EDF soldiers and complaining Roamer skyminers created a remarkable din. Men dropped tools onto the deck with loud clangs; ekti tanks were rolled into clusters, then lifted with levitating forklifts. Outside, the high-altitude winds whipped and roared in a continuing storm. TheGoliath hovered nearby.

No one was able to stop the continued outrage. Patrick stood beside Del Kellum, noting the trim EDF uniforms, the determined soldiers following orders. “I used to be just like them.”

“No wonder Zhett was always picking on you.”

Once, he had believed everything that General Lanyan told him. The Hansa had been at war with the hydrogues, and the Earth Defense Forces needed stardrive fuel, which the Roamers had “unjustly” withheld. Therefore, when they had seized a Roamer cargo ship, the decision to destroy the witness and remove the evidence had seemed perfectly reasonable. Patrick hadn’t thought twice about it: The EDF took what it needed.

Just as it was doing now. Patrick’s stomach knotted. Yes, he understood what drove these soldiers, and now he was ashamed of it.

A constant flow of military ships landed in the skymine’s open cargo bay, loaded up with ekti canisters, then returned to the nearby Juggernaut. General Lanyan followed a coterie of administrative aides; he wore a dress uniform rather than rugged combat fatigues, as if to show his contempt for any possible resistance from the Roamers.

A young lieutenant with soft, innocent eyes stepped up to Lanyan and reported in a clear voice, “General, we have reports from the consolidation squadrons. All Roamer skymines have been placed under EDF jurisdiction.”

“Yourjurisdiction?” Kellum bellowed. “You know the Hansa has no claim on these mines — or is your head so far up your ass that you’re suffering from oxygen deprivation?”

Patrick said quietly and calmly to him, but for the General’s benefit, “Pure bullshit is a standard ingredient in EDF rations, Del. Have I told you what the EDF’s motto is? ‘Honor and bravery in service of the Earth.’” He pointedly looked at General Lanyan. “There’s a word for attacking unarmed, independent facilities to steal their property: piracy. Why not round things out with a bit of raping and pillaging?”

“They’re pillaging quite enough right now, by damn,” Kellum said.

Not rising to the bait, the General scanned the report that listed the amount of stardrive fuel the troops had seized. “My, you Roamers have been busy.”

Kellum growled. “Weearn what we have, unlike some people.”

Lanyan continued to scan the inventory, not interested in what Kellum had to say. “Hmm, a supply of orange liqueur. Where did it come from?”

With pride, the bearded clan leader said, “I make it myself.”

“Is it any good?”

“Too good for you.”

“I’ll accept your recommendation. Have it loaded into my personal shuttle.” The General finally gave Patrick his full attention. “I am disappointed in you, Mr. Fitzpatrick. You had a great future in the EDF, but you pissed it all away — forthis?” He raised his hands to indicate the cluttered complex. He leaned closer, smelling of cologne and sweat. “I’m going to take you back to Earth and treat you to a full court-martial. The Hansa has already arrested hundreds for illegally rebroadcasting that foolish condemnation and confession you recorded. That recording did no good, but we can still use it against you.”

Patrick could not hide his satisfied smile. “Really — hundreds arrested? My message must have been distributed widely, then.” Lanyan was flustered, and Patrick decided to call his bluff. “I’d love a public opportunity to explain how the Hansa broke treaties, killed innocent people, provoked hostilities, destroyed the capital of a sovereign people. In fact, my grandmother will make certain I get the forum I need. Take me back, I dare you. What you’re doing here is illegal.”

“Roamers have no legal standing in the Hansa.”

“Not true. My grandmother entered into an agreement with clan Kellum, speaking officially as a former Hansa Chairman. She promised them their freedom and guaranteed that neither they nor their facilities would be harassed by the EDF in exchange for them surrendering a valuable hydrogue derelict. The Roamers held up their side of the bargain. You’ve reneged.”

Lanyan shrugged. “Once King Peter stole the derelict back and delivered it to the Roamers, all bets were off.”

Patrick was startled by this information; he hadn’t been aware that the alien ship was back in the hands of the Confederation. He hadn’t expected Lanyan to know about the deal at all.

Lanyan motioned for him. “Come to the operations center, Fitzpatrick, and help me go through the databases to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

“I won’t help.”

“Then you can watch as I blunder around in your computerized systems. Who knows what damage I might cause?” Patrick grudgingly followed him to a lift, while Kellum remained behind, glowering as soldiers continued loading tank after tank of stolen stardrive fuel.

In the ops center that crowned the skymine dome, broad windows looked out upon the endless yellowish skies. Zhett was single-handedly trying to keep soldiers from the database control panels, but they ignored her. That had put her in a murderous mood. “You clods shouldn’t be allowed to run an abacus!”

One of the technicians fumbled with a touchpad, frowning when the systems froze on him.

A soldier shouted, “General Lanyan on the bridge!”

“It’s not a bridge,” Patrick said. “It’s an operations center.” In the distance, he could see another skymine, Boris Goff’s, also surrounded by EDF ships.

“Status report,” Lanyan demanded. “Have you run a full inventory?”

“As near as we can tell, sir,” said the blundering technician. “It’s a very disorganized system, not to military specs at all.”

Zhett stood close to Patrick and put her fists on his shoulder as if she wanted to pound on something. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close, restraining her.

When the General saw him holding the young woman, he seemed greatly amused. “So the well-bred Patrick Fitzpatrick III has found himself a pretty little Roamer mistress. How sweet.”

“She’s not my mistress. She’s my wife.”

Lanyan burst out laughing. “And would your grandmother still support you if she knew about that?”

Patrick remained cool. “I’m sure her wedding gift is already on its way.” He didn’t mention that he had neglected to send the old Battleaxe an invitation.

The technician had finally succeeded in calling up screens full of numbers. “Looks like we got it all, General. Other than the expected losses on cargo ships and a few ekti escort haulers that initially escaped our net, we have secured and transferred all the available fuel on these skymines.”