New York Times-bestselling author and editor Kevin J. Anderson has made a name for himself authoring sprawling space operas, including entries in the Star Wars and Star Trek series, amongst others. His most recent epic, Saga of Shadows, is actually a sequel to his earlier Saga of Seven Suns, from which this story comes. It serves as a prequel to the entire series, as Anderson explains below.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: My Saga of Seven Suns and Saga of Shadows series are a sprawling space opera, a universe of cultures and characters. One group of people are the Roamers, resourceful space gypsies who run rugged colonies and cloud-harvesting “skymines” on gas giant planets, living in places and doing jobs that nobody else wants. Downtrodden, the Roamers are always fighting for their independence, and they have a hero and freedom fighter, Rand Sorengaard, whom they view as a Robin Hood type. The rest of the Terran Hanseatic League, however, sees him as a ruthless terrorist because of his extreme actions. It all depends on your point of view. This story takes place just before the events in the first novel of the series, Hidden Empire, revealing the never-before-told backstory of Rand Sorengaard, whether he really is a terrorist, or a hero with feet of clay.
FEET OF CLAY
A SAGA OF SEVEN SUNS STORY
I
With solar fins extended like a graceful fighting fish, the huge Ildiran warliner rose from the skymine that drifted in the gas giant’s clouds. The alien ship’s tanks were full of stardrive fuel harvested from Oriloo’s atmosphere, and the Roamer skyminers watched the majestic vessel depart, its business completed.
Standing on the upper deck, Lily Hsieh shaded her eyes and watched the warliner fly off, thinking of all the places she had never seen. She was fifteen and slender, dressed in a utilitarian tan jumpsuit embroidered with the familiar symbols of clan Hsieh. Her suit sported many clips, zippers, pockets, and loops, all of which could be pressed into service when she ran maintenance on her family’s skymine, performing the busy tasks that every Roamer knew how to do. She pulled her light brown hair back into a ponytail that wouldn’t get in her way in the whipping high-atmosphere winds of the gas giant.
With a sliding sound, her father shuffled up to her on the observation deck. Though he was nimble enough aboard the giant floating factory, he still dragged one foot from the old injury. He followed Lily’s gaze into the sky. “That’s a sight to see, isn’t it?”
Lilly nodded. “It’s beautiful. The Ildirans usually pick up fuel at the depot rather than coming to the source.” She watched the ship rise higher into the thinning wisps of clouds. “That will pay a month’s expenses.”
“They’ll be out of range soon enough.” Richard Hsieh stroked his chin, unconsciously following the deep lines in his face. “Then we’ll be safe.”
Lily turned to look at him. “We’re not worried about the Ildirans. They’ve always been peaceful.”
“Rand Sorengaard has reasons to worry about many things. With half the Spiral Arm looking for him, he doesn’t take chances.”
The crew of Roamer workers got back to work on the drifting station. The domed industrial complex cruised along, scooping up chemical vapors, sorting them, running them through reactors, converting and compressing the stardrive fuel. They had all the skies in which to wander. The workers, most of them extended members of clan Hsieh, knew their jobs, worked hard, and maintained a low profile. The Roamer clans operated on the fringe of the human interplanetary government, the Terran Hanseatic League—second-class citizens performing necessary but unappreciated work.
A hush had fallen over the skymine, then shouts came from other open decks. Lily looked down to see the deep cloud layer churned by the exhaust from small but high-powered stardrive engines. She felt a chill as three muscular-looking armored ships rose from the sheltering mists, coming out of their hiding places. The ships were Roamer vessels plastered with modifications, augmented engines, extended sensor arrays, and brash markings that made the vessels look distinctive, even unnerving.
As the corsair ships approached, Richard Hsieh laughed out loud. “You see that, Lily? They cut through the lower atmosphere and waited for the Ildiran warliner to leave. Rand doesn’t take any chances! He’s too smart for that!”
Other skyminers cheered to welcome the ominous ships that circled the giant floating factory. The skymine’s control center transmitted to her father’s comm, “Sorengaard is asking permission to dock. Should I tell him it’s okay, Richard?”
“Of course. We’ll welcome him down in the hangar bay.” Her father flashed a glance at her. “Come on, Lily. This is important.”
Lily easily kept up with her father’s uncertain gait as he went to the nearest lift. She had never met the Roamer outlaw, but her father had told her many stories of Rand Sorengaard and his exploits, how he constantly poked Hansa commercial ships, giving them a black eye, raiding their luxury cargos and distributing the valuable goods to struggling Roamer installations. “Taking from the greedy, helping the worthy,” was his catch phrase. Sorengaard was a hero to the clans, a man who stood up for their rights and for their freedom.
The three corsair ships entered the skymine’s cavernous hangar bay. The chamber was large enough to hold and load fuel tankers and cargo vessels that visited Oriloo.
Her father held onto her arm, his eyes shining with amazed wonder. “By the Guiding Star, we’ll do what we can to help them. I wish your mother and sisters were here.” The rest of Lily’s family had gone on a supply trip to the main Roamer complex of Rendezvous, and they wouldn’t be back for days.
She tossed her ponytail. “We know how to show hospitality, Dad. Just me and you.”
The boarding ramp extended on the lead corsair ship, and a tall man with a long face, lantern jaw, and close-cropped brown hair stepped out. He exuded a grand presence about him as he paused at the top of the ramp as if for dramatic effect before the Roamers gathered in the hangar bay. Richard and the skymine crew applauded as Rand Sorengaard walked down the ramp. His jumpsuit looked new, embroidered with many clan markings. A colorful sash encircled his waist.
Behind Sorengaard came two more men, a hardbitten middle-aged woman, and a near-naked, entirely bald man with emerald skin. The green man carried a small ornate pot in the crook of his arm, which held a delicate gold-barked treeling with feathery fronds.
Lily blinked. “He has a green priest with him, too?”
Waving, her father spoke out of the corner of his mouth, “His name is Cole, joined Rand’s followers several years ago. He can use the treeling for communication, if necessary.”
Green priests from the jungle planet Theroc were telepathically connected to the network of sentient worldtrees. By touching a treeling, they could communicate with any other treeling, anywhere, and also draw from the incredible archive of knowledge in the worldtree mind.
Richard limped forward, extending his hand. “Welcome to the Hsieh skymine! As good Roamers, we’re happy to help your cause in any way we can. We all have the same Guiding Star.” He placed an arm around Lily’s shoulder. “And this is my daughter. I’ve told her all about you.”
“I am fighting for all of us,” Sorengaard said.
“I know you need supplies and stardrive fuel,” her father said. “We can provide you with all of that.”
The stern green priest stepped down the ramp and took up a position next to his leader. “I’ll see to all the inventory, Rand. I have a list of what we need.” He gave Lily a grimace that might have been meant as a smile. “The little girl can help, if she knows the skymine.”
Lily sniffed. “I’m not a little girl. I’m fifteen.”
The green priest regarded her and said, “I’m older than that, so you’re still little as far as I’m concerned.”
Sorengaard chuckled, as did his fellow corsairs. Her father seemed giddy to be in the presence of such a celebrity. Richard told his crew to open the storage modules and pump stardrive fuel into the tanks and reserves of the three outlaw ships. Richard Hsieh showed them every hospitality.
Later in the mess hall Lily listened with wonder and a healthy dose of skepticism as the corsairs told tales of their raids, their near escapes, how many times they had humiliated the “Big Goose,” the Roamer derogatory term for the Terran Hanseatic League. Smiling, her father nodded along with everything Sorengaard said.
“I wish I could join you.” He patted his leg. “What you’re doing is important, Rand, but I’ve got so many responsibilities in this skymine… And with my injury, I’m not as agile as I should be these days.”
Cole, the green priest, frowned in her father’s direction. “I’m sure we could find something useful for you to do, even with a limp, if you really wanted to join us.”
Flushing, Richard let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m afraid my adventuring days are over…” He quickly turned to Lily. “But my daughter is skilled! The smartest fifteen-year-old you’ll ever meet, and she’s been wanting adventure for a long time.”
Lily knew that was true, but she didn’t understand what her father was saying.
At the long mess-hall table, Sorengaard gave her a serious look. “If you’re dedicated, young lady, and if you want to make a serious difference for all the clans, I would take you under my wing. We’d be happy to have you.”
The green priest gave her an amused look, “Unless you think daily skymine operations are more interesting?”
Lily’s throat went dry. “It’s not about what’s more interesting. I’m needed here.”
“The Roamers need you, too,” Sorengaard said. “What is it you want to do with your life?”
Anxious, she looked at her father as the realization began to sink in.
“What does your Guiding Star say, girl?” her father pressed. “Think of the opportunity.”
Lily didn’t know what to say. Her father had told so many tales about this man. Every Roamer knew Rand Sorengaard and his legendary corsairs. And she could be part of them?
“Your mother and sisters will be back soon to help with operations,” her father said. “You can go.”
Sorengaard stood from the mess-hall table and reached out a hand. “You’ll have a place among us, Lily Hsieh—and a place in Roamer history.”
She stared at his hand for a long moment, but Lily knew there was really only one decision.
II
The three powerful ships streaked away from the gas giant, their fuel tanks and cargo holds full, the rebels satisfied with clan Hsieh’s hospitality. Lily rode aboard the Cause, the main corsair ship, by a special invitation from Sorengaard himself. As she left the Oriloo skymine, she carried only a small satchel of personal possessions, mementos of her family, reminders of her home. A Roamer could make do anywhere and with anything, and her new companions would provide her with whatever else she needed.
Though she was excited, she felt a swirling storm in her stomach like an empty pocket of air. She remembered once when the skymine had dropped nearly five hundred meters after the antigravity engines failed in a storm. Now Lily felt unsettled but also excited.
She had her own small cabin, which would have been no more than a closet on the skymine. Though he had welcomed her into his band, Sorengaard kept to his own cabin or the piloting deck. Instead, Lily met some of his other followers: Bruno, who claimed to be a good cook though he ate prepackaged meals along with everyone else, and Wanda, a brawny hardbitten woman who claimed that the Big Goose had killed every member of her family, although she gave no details. Lily also spent time with the dry but patient green priest, Cole.
When they sat together in the rec chamber or the galley, Lily expected her companions to play games or talk about their homes or missed loved ones. Instead, Sorengaard’s followers were intense and determined, and when they talked, they merely echoed and reinforced their anger against the Hansa.
Bruno grumbled, “The Hansa economy depends on our stardrive fuel and all the metals we excavate from harsh environments.”
“Nobody else could do what we do,” said Wanda. “They’re too weak.”
Sorengaard entered the galley with a cup of coffee held loosely in his hand. He took a sip. “Considering how much the clans do, it’s surprising how little respect we get. The Big Goose pushes us to the fringes, and we’re stuck in corners where nobody else wants to be.” He slurped from his cup and leaned against the bulkhead. “But we do just fine.” He paused for a moment deep in thought. “And we all do better when we take things from them, just to remind the Hansa not to ignore us. Taking from the greedy, helping the worthy.”
The others agreed loudly, and Lily added her cheer to theirs.
As the three ships flew onward toward their base, she came upon Cole on a metal bench by one the ship’s large windowports. The green priest held his potted treeling in his lap, and he stared out at the streaming stars with a preoccupied expression.
“Aren’t you cold?” Lily asked. “You’re barely wearing any clothes.”
“I’m wearing as many clothes as I need.” His brow furrowed as he turned to her. “I thought Roamers were tough. Do I need to get you a blanket, little girl?”
“I’m fine.” She looked out the windowport, trying to see what held his attention. “I didn’t know there were any green priests among the Roamers. Aren’t you supposed to be on Theroc with those giant trees?”
“I have my tree.” He stroked the ornate pot with his fingers. “They’re all connected, so if I have this treeling, then I have the whole worldforest.”
“Don’t green priests sell their services to the Hansa, for instant communication across their planets and ships?”
He kept looking out the windowport. “Not all green priests. I decided not to.”
“I’m glad you’re with Rand Sorengaard instead.”
He stretched out his arm and placed his green palm against the transparent barrier between him and the stars. “Theroc is not a member of the Terran Hanseatic League either, although Chairman Wenceslas would very much like to control us. Our leaders prefer to be independent and have no interest in signing the Hansa Charter, but we are second-class citizens just like the Roamers. We have to fight to be taken seriously.”
“I’ve never heard of a green priest who fights,” Lily said. “I thought you were peaceful.”
“There are many ways to fight. Maybe I fight by helping Rand Sorengaard.”
Lily thought about that. “Just like me.”
“I am not just like you. I never intended to be a green priest in the first place.” Cole looked at his arm, his green skin. “Do you think I wanted my whole body to change, just so I could be linked with all the worldtrees?” He shook his head. “No, it was my mother who wanted to be a green priest, not me. She obsessed about it all her life, but she proved inadequate to the testing. Instead, she forced me to become an acolyte. The green priests raised me and trained me, and I never had any other options. It took me four years longer than anyone else to become a green priest, but in the end the forest accepted me, embraced me, and altered me.” He scowled. “All my hair fell out, my skin changed color, and now the trees are always in my mind.”
He looked down at his potted treeling as if it were a poisonous spider in his lap. “But I can communicate through telink. I can touch the treeling and drop in among the thoughts of all the other worldtrees and green priests, but I never communicate. I secretly listen, but they don’t know I’m there.”
“Then what good are you?” Lily challenged.
Cole bristled. “I can observe so Rand knows who’s looking for him, how the Hansa is trying to hunt him down, and what the other planets are saying about him.”
“So you’re a spy?”
Cole narrowed his dark emerald dyes. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
“And is your mother proud of you now? Since you’re doing what she could not?”
“She’s dead,” Cole said, then reconsidered. “But, yes, I think she’s pleased that I’m doing what she always wanted to do.”
Lily brightened. “Then we have something in common because I’m doing what my father wanted me to do.” She lifted her pointed chin. “I’m going to make a difference. I’ll be part of history.”
Cole seemed amused. “Enjoy it while it’s still special, little girl.” He turned back to stare out the windowport.
III
For Sorengaard’s hidden base, Lily had expected some tunnel complex in a dark asteroid or a frozen moon on the fringe of a solar system. Instead, the three outlaw ships flew closer and closer to a blazing yellow sun until she feared they might burn up the ionized gases. But just inside the densest curtains of the corona hung a large Ildiran warliner, a derelict ship seemingly abandoned.
Lily tried to make out details through the heavy optical filters on the windowport glass. The warliner she had recently seen at the Oriloo skymine was gaudy, its hull painted with brilliant markings, its solar fins extended, but this battleship was tarnished, the hull blackened.
Sorengaard stood next to her. “I know it’s not pretty, but this one is ours, and no one knows it’s here.”
“How did you get an Ildiran warliner?” Lily asked.
“By happy circumstance. Sometimes Roamers have good luck.”
“It was a disaster for the Ildirans, though,” Cole said as he stepped up between them. “The warliner was part of a mapping expedition and got caught in a solar flare storm that killed half the crew. The Solar Navy swooped in to rescue the remaining Ildirans, then just left the wreck here. They probably think it’s burned up in the sun by now.”
Sorengaard crossed his arms over his chest. “But my Guiding Star took me here. We got the life support working, patched the damaged hull, and used the engines to move it out of the danger zone. We had to wear exosuits for the first year until we scrubbed most of the radiation, but it’s a perfect hideout. No one would dare to look for us here.”
The Cause headed toward the warliner’s lower belly, where hangar doors began to open. All three vessels cruised into the inviting bay, and Sorengaard walked to the exit hatch after the Cause settled into place. On the way, he clumsily tousled Lily’s hair, which she let hang loose now that she no longer worked out in the skymine’s open air. She grimaced at the gesture, which implied the rebel leader considered her a mere child.
In the bustling launch bay, Sorengaard’s followers hurried to unload and distribute the supplies and spare fuel that Richard Hsieh had provided. Lily felt swept up in the activity, like a small mouse about to be stepped on, but the green priest grasped her shoulder and shouted over the hubbub, “Attention! This is Lily from clan Hsieh. She’ll be joining us.” Cole looked down at her. “And we expect great things.”
Sorengaard flashed his smile, caught off guard that he hadn’t introduced his new follower. “Yes, give Lily a warm welcome. Since she grew up on a skymine, she knows how to pull her own weight and make herself useful.”
Embarrassed by the attention, Lily felt her cheeks burn as she accepted the numerous greetings, the blur of faces that pressed closer. She didn’t know how she would ever learn all their names. “I will do my best, by the Guiding Star.”
“By the Guiding Star,” the outlaws called.
Sorengaard responded with a paternal expression. “You will not do your best, Lily. You will excel.”
Over the next several days, she learned how to fit in. Her quarters were much larger than the closet aboard the Cause because the Ildiran warliner could hold many thousands. She explored deck after deck on the alien ship, trying to imagine the Solar Navy officers and crew who had worked here. Ildirans were very similar to humans, and their comforts, furnishings, and customs were much the same.
Although Sorengaard’s corsairs supposedly robbed Hansa trading ships blind and redistributed the wealth, Lily found that her daily work was similar to what she had done aboard the skymine. Many of the warliner’s damaged systems needed refitting or jury-rigging, and Lily was good at that.
Every time she finished a task and stopped to take a rest, someone would assign her something else to do. Lily intended to do a good job. She wanted to excel, so she did all the tasks that needed doing. In her downtime, Lily wrote letters to her father, her mother, and each of her sisters. She felt caught up in her situation, but she did begin to wonder if they ever would go out on an actual raid.
Sorengaard had converted the warliner’s command nucleus into his main offices. Lily was often tasked to bring him a private meal prepared by Bruno, usually with enough servings for all his staff, and Lily would stay as well. Under the alien bridge’s transparent dome, the rebel leader enjoyed holding forth, stoking the emotions of his followers.
“Yes, I am a proud man,” he said, twirling his fork to scoop up a mouthful of seasoned noodles. “I want what is best for the clans. I want the Roamers to be full citizens of the Hansa, or else completely free and independent. Right now, we’re just caught halfway.”
The others muttered. Bruno sat with them, joining his own feast. “The Big Goose exploits our fuel harvesting and our hard work. Someone has to push back.”
“Push back,” Wanda grumbled, then embarrassed herself with a burp. She wiped her mouth.
“We know our duty,” Sorengaard said. “Take from the greedy, help the worthy.”
By now, many of Sorengaard’s words were familiar, but she still found them inspirational, although she had seen little more than talk. “Take from the greedy, help the worthy,” she mouthed along as the others repeated the phrase.
Cole strode into the command nucleus holding the potted treeling in both hands, as if it might explode on him. He interrupted the meal and fixed his dark gaze on the rebel leader. The conversation paused.
“What is it, Cole?”
“I just learned something very interesting.” The green priest balanced the potted treeling in the palm of one hand, and Lily was afraid the container might fall and shatter on the deck. “Hansa Chairman Basil Wenceslas is going to the planet Dallal where he will witness them signing the Hansa Charter. It’s just a small diplomatic mission, very little publicity.” His smile enhanced the lines in his emerald-green face, and he paused to let the news sink in. “He doesn’t usually let himself be so vulnerable.”
The other rebels began to mutter, and Rand smiled. “No, he doesn’t.”
IV
The Roamer government complex of Rendezvous was a cluster of asteroids jumbled together like a handful of large rocks held together by gravity and reinforced with structural girders, walkways, and bridges. This was the first foothold the Roamers had established, nearly two centuries ago, in the dim light of a red dwarf star. The clans had since spread out across the Spiral Arm, but their hard work of surviving in the austere asteroid cluster had taught them how to make a home anywhere, to eke out an existence in places shunned by the pampered Hansa. Now Rendezvous was a vibrant hub of trade and diplomacy, a meeting point for the members of all clans.
Lily had been here before with her mother, an exciting break from the busy monotony of Oriloo’s empty clouds. Now, as she rode with Sorengaard, Cole, and four other corsair ships, however, she felt genuinely important. This was not just a shopping expedition, but a crucial face-to-face meeting with Jhy Okiah, the Speaker for the Roamer clans.
When they flew into Rendezvous, Lily expected to receive cheers and a boisterous welcome, but Cole maintained radio silence, using a disguised identification beacon. Curious, she turned to Sorengaard, who regarded the flurry of space traffic around the cluster of asteroids with a strange, unreadable expression. “Are you worried even at Rendezvous? I thought the clans appreciate what we’re doing. My father would never speak an ill word of you.”
Sorengaard mused, “Ah, Lily, your optimism is refreshing. Every Roamer longs for freedom in their hearts—I don’t doubt that for a moment—but not every Roamer is willing to pay the price.”
At the controls, Cole grunted. “That’s why some of us have to pay an extra price, but we don’t count the cost. We just do what is right.”
After they docked at the central asteroid, Bruno, Wanda, and the remaining corsairs spread out among the vibrant crowds, making connections, following up contacts, purchasing necessary equipment and supplies. Sorengaard, though, headed directly to the Speaker’s main office complex. Word traveled swiftly of his arrival, and the green priest from Theroc was himself a distinctive sight, so the old woman knew they were coming long before they arrived.
Jhy Okiah’s office was a chamber carved inside the old drifting rock, the smooth walls painted a sunny yellow. A wide single windowport looked out upon the bright stars, the dull warm glow of the red dwarf, and numerous spacecraft that flitted like bees around the asteroid complex.
Lily and Cole followed Sorengaard into the Speaker’s office, and he spoke before the old woman could even greet him. “I’ve come to see you, Speaker, because I’m going to do something that will improve the lot of all Roamers. It affects every clan.” He stood straight, and his voice was as hard as steel, delivering a message rather than initiating a discussion. “I wanted you to know.”
Lily recognized the revered Jhy Okiah from countless drop broadcasts and messages, but she’d never met the woman in person. She was so ancient that her arms and legs were little more than sticks, and her skin was a rich tan like comfortable old leather. She had lived in low-g for so many years her body could no longer tolerate planetary gravity. Her jumpsuit bore the prominent embroidery of clan Okiah but, as Speaker, she also bore the markings of countless other clans. As the leader, she was a hard but reasonable woman, a negotiator who had held many diverse groups together for a long time.
Jhy Okiah did not rise from her desk as she remained silent, contemplating. “If you are doing something that affects every clan, wouldn’t it be wise to discuss it in an open Roamer convocation?” Her birdlike eyes bored into his. “Or are you afraid they will disagree with you?”
“There’s no time,” Sorengaard said. “An opportunity has presented itself. I am alerting you so you can begin to make plans. The Roamers will finally achieve the greatness they deserve.”
Skeptical, the old woman looked to the green priest and raised her eyebrows. “Are you here representing Theroc? They are independent as well. Does your presence imply an alliance between Rendezvous and the jungle planet?”
“Not at all,” Cole said. He held his potted treeling against his bare ribs. “I’m just here for Rand.”
Lily’s heart leapt when the Speaker turned to her, and she bowed politely, introducing herself. “I’m very pleased to meet you, ma’am. I am Lily Hsieh.”
“Richard’s girl? Shouldn’t you be working the skymine on Oriloo?”
“I’m one of his daughters, ma’am. He encouraged me to join Sorengaard’s cause. He said it was important.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m doing my best for the Roamer clans.”
Jhy Okiah pursed her lips. “I doubt you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, young lady.” She turned back to the tall rebel leader, who remained straight as a support girder in the office chamber. “And what is this plan of yours, Sorengaard? How will it get us in trouble?”
He summarized quickly. “The colony world of Dallal has met all the requirements to sign the Hansa Charter. Chairman Wenceslas is going there in person on a low-key diplomatic mission as a witness. We know where he will be, thanks to my green priest and the worldforest information network. My corsairs will swoop in and ambush him. We’ll capture the Chairman’s ship and take him hostage.”
The old woman recoiled, placed her gnarled hands on the desktop. “You can’t kidnap the Chairman!”
Sorengaard remained calm. “That way we can negotiate with him and impose our demands. The harassment and persecution will end.” He crossed his arms over his chest as if he had just presented his closing argument.
Jhy Okiah shook her head. “Why would you provoke them and make our situation even worse? You’ll bring down the wrath of the EDF on us all. We’ll be cut off everywhere.”
“They can’t cut us off,” Sorengaard said. “Roamers produce all the stardrive fuel in the Spiral Arm. The Ildirans will still trade with us, and the Hansa worlds know how vital we are. It’s about time the government acknowledges it as well. We won’t be taken advantage of any more.”
“That is an extremely bad idea.” The Speaker’s voice was brittle. “I forbid it.”
His face darkened with anger. “You may be the Speaker, but you are not my commander. I came to inform you, not ask you.” He gestured to Lily and Cole and turned to leave. “It will be seen as a good idea when it works.”
Embarrassed and frightened, Lily glanced back at the Speaker as Sorengaard stormed out. She hurried after them.
V
Bright sunshine poured through Earth’s clear blue skies, reflecting from the impenetrable windows of the Hansa headquarters pyramid. The stepped structure sprawled over many city blocks, but even so it was dwarfed by the even more tremendous Whisper Palace, the ostentatious heart of the Terran Hanseatic League. While eyes were drawn to the incredible palace, the real business was conducted inside the pyramid.
In his spacious office complex at the topmost level of the ziggurat, Chairman Basil Wenceslas had called a meeting, and now he sat at his boardroom table across from General Lanyan, anxious to begin. The commander of the Earth Defense Forces was gruff and no-nonsense, also eager to get down to business. Both men had many other things to do.
“I have a launch ceremony for a new Juggernaut battleship in three hours, Mr. Chairman,” the general said. “Shall I postpone it?”
“I can cover the main points quickly enough,” Basil said, “although we will require careful staging from the EDF once we set the wheels in motion. My diplomatic mission must go off on schedule.”
Lanyan wore his formal dark uniform, his chest emblazoned with medals from numerous military operations and peacekeeping activities. He had dark hair, a round face, and rich brown eyes that showed only a small amount of patience. His stomach was hard as a barrel.
Basil glanced over at Sarein, the thin and beautiful young woman from Theroc, daughter of the jungle planet’s rulers. Sarein had come to Earth to serve as a planetary representative, but she was ambitious and negotiated as much for her own benefit as for her independent, resource-rich world. Sarein had also recently become his lover. Although Basil was many years her senior, the preservation treatments kept him strong, healthy, and virile; they both got what they wanted out of the relationship.
Sarein sat with a stack of documents, neatly aligned as she prepared for the important meeting. She drank a cup of steaming klee, a traditional beverage from Theroc, while Basil sipped fragrant cardamom coffee from a china cup. The general merely had water as he waited for the Chairman to come to the point.
“I am about to embark on a diplomatic mission to Dallal. This would normally entail my transport ship and a standard escort, but this time I may need more… and less. We have an opportunity.”
“Dallal?” the general asked, clearly sifting his mind for information. “Why would you go there?”
“Because the planet is not significant enough for me to send Old King Frederick. Dallal spent years fulfilling the requests and filing the forms, and now they will be signing the Hansa Charter.” Basil tapped his fingertips on the polished boardroom table. “We welcome every valuable new member of the Terran Hanseatic League.”
Sarein looked down at the documents in front of her and spoke up. “Dallal’s surface was bombarded by a meteor swarm a thousand years ago, and now those craters are rich with interesting metals and isotopes that they can easily mine.”
Basil gave her a brief smile. She had asked if she could participate in the briefing. “The most important part, General, is that they won’t be a drain on our resources. They will be productive members of the Terran Hanseatic League.”
Lines appeared on Lanyan’s brow. “So you’re going there with a diplomatic ship to watch them sign the Hansa Charter? Why is this a military matter? Is there a threat I’m not seeing?”
“As I mentioned earlier, it’s more of an opportunity, and that is where you come in.” He touched his steel-gray hair, imagining that a strand might be out of place, but he found nothing awry. “This is our chance to remove that gadfly Rand Sorengaard.”
Lanyan puffed his round cheeks and made a rude noise. “The Roamer pirate? Do you think he’s hiding on Dallal?”
“No, but he will go there because I’ll be there.”
“He’s impulsive,” Sarein said. “He won’t be able to resist.”
Basil lifted two fingers in a subtle signal, and she quickly fell silent. “We have reason to believe there might be an ambush. His corsairs will try to attack my diplomatic ship.” Now his smile became more genuine. “Knowing this, we can turn the tables on him. I’ll travel with a minimal escort, but I want you to shadow me with a much larger EDF strike force.”
Lanyan perked up, genuinely interested now. He took a drink of his water. “I see. Where did you learn this? Roamers are very tight-lipped. How certain is the intel?”
“It’s reliable,” Sarein interrupted. “Absolutely reliable.” She turned and signaled to the door of the conference room.
Lanyan looked up as an old, half-naked green priest entered, an ancient woman with deep-green skin and sagging bare breasts. Her lined face, shoulders, chest, and arms were covered with tattoos. The bald crone looked like a piece of fruit that had dried in the heat. She carried a tall potted treeling in her arms, which looked too large for her to carry. Sarein did not rise to help her.
The green priest shuffled forward despite the burden in her arms. “I have seen it myself. I’ve heard the conversations.”
“General,” Basil said, “I believe you know Ambassador Otema from Theroc. She is here to communicate through the worldforest network and to assist Sarein. I myself have used her for many diplomatic purposes.”
“I serve Theroc,” the old woman said.
“And I represent Theroc,” Sarein interjected. “I instructed Ambassador Otema that if she were to pick up any information about Rand Sorengaard’s plans or whereabouts, she was to report to me. Stability in the Spiral Arm is vital to both the Hansa and Theroc.”
The old green priest seemed sullen. “There’s a man named Cole among the rebels, a green priest. He carries a treeling, although he never communicates through telink. But I have been able to dip into his treeling to observe what else he might be doing. I overheard Sorengaard’s conversation with the Roamer Speaker Jhy Okiah. He does intend to ambush Chairman Wenceslas.” With a frown, she set the heavy pot on the boardroom table next to Basil, rattling his china cup. “I have no wish to be involved in this, but Sarein insisted.”
Smiling, Lanyan drummed his fingertips on the table. “Very well, then. I’ll call in my subcommanders so we can make our plans.”
Basil rose from his chair. “Thank you, General, that is all. You can go launch the new Juggernaut. In fact, we might need it when we set our trap.”
VI
As the corsair ships departed from Rendezvous, they traveled with ten additional ships, a batch of new recruits who were enamored with Rand Sorengaard and his struggles. The ambitious strays flew off, eager to do their part for the cause as well.
Sorengaard proudly accepted his new followers. “Each of you has your Guiding Star, and each of you has the heart of a Roamer.” He smiled. “We all fight for the same great cause.”
The new ships, the hodgepodge of clunkers, souped-up courier ships, and tarnished cargo haulers, flew along with Sorengaard’s ships. As Lily sat in the piloting deck beside Cole, she found it odd to think that she was no longer the new kid here. She still felt wide-eyed and shy, but unsettled and a little sad after witnessing the tension between Sorengaard and Speaker Okiah.
After they set off from the asteroid cluster with all the new ships in tow, Sorengaard’s demeanor changed to fiery anger. Cole looked down at the piloting console as stars streamed around them. “Back to the hideout, Rand? Not much time to gather our ships and go after Chairman Wenceslas.”
“He won’t know what hit him,” Bruno muttered from the adjacent common room.
“He won’t know what hit him,” Sorengaard agreed, “but we don’t have the time to return to the warliner, gather the crews, and get to the Dallal system with enough of a cushion.” His lips formed a hard, thin smile. “The Chairman’s diplomatic mission is already on the way…”
The green priest was surprised. “You’re going to attack with only our four main ships? Will that be enough?”
Wanda grunted from the back deck. “Not four ships—fourteen. It’ll be a perfect initiation for our new recruits.”
Sorengaard nodded. “We’ll arrive in the outer system and go silent as we head down toward where the Chairman will pass.” He folded his fingers together to form a double fist as he stood there. “We’ll do a linked comm with all the new recruits, let them know the plan. Bruno and Wanda, I want you each to captain one of our main vessels for the strike. Everyone gets a chance to participate.”
Lily remembered how intricate the skymine processes were, how every single component had to work perfectly together or the entire system would collapse. “That’s all the planning you’re going to do?”
“Being impetuous doesn’t mean poor planning,” Sorengaard said. “We’ve survived and escaped by being unpredictable. That is why the Hansa fears us.” He looked out at the starry emptiness. “And once we have the Chairman, they will not only fear us, they will respect us.”
His charisma convinced Lily, though the more she thought about the plan, the less viable it seemed.
The green priest shrugged and did what he was told, resetting the course, transmitting a joint comm to all corsair ships, including the new recruits. The ragtag fleet streaked off to their destination.
The Dallal system had a white primary sun and an orange dwarf companion that orbited at a great distance. The corsair ships vectored in along the orange dwarf’s line of sight from the planet, using its glare to mask their energy signatures.
Dallal was a terrestrial planet with a moisture-rich, breathable atmosphere. Its land masses were pocked by craters, like a severe case of acne, but all those old meteor strikes led to rich deposits of easily excavated metals.
“Some people have all the luck,” Bruno said as he got ready to shuttle over to the ship he would pilot during the ambush. “Roamers live in harsh environments to scrape out resources. Those colonists just dig down and pick metal up off the ground.”
“They can’t help where they live,” Lily said, feeling edgy. “You could say that my clan’s skymine just ‘drifts along and scoops stardrive fuel,’ but it’s not as simple as that.”
“I have no grudge against the people of Dallal,” Sorengaard said. “They just happen to be the right catalyst for what we need to do. Chairman Wenceslas is the one that interests me.”
When the group of ships quietly took up their positions, they hung in space waiting for more than a day. Lily began to grow nervous, worrying that their information might be in error.
One of the anxious new recruits transmitted a tight line-of-sight burst. “Should we spread out and scout, Rand? He’s got to be coming soon.”
“Quiet!” he shouted into the comm. “Radio silence! Just wait.”
The Chairman’s diplomatic craft arrived a mere ninety minutes after the target time. The Hansa vessel was an ornate official craft designed for comfort rather than speed or defense. One EDF Manta cruiser paced the diplomatic craft, an intimidating escort. As the Chairman’s diplomatic procession approached Dallal, the Manta’s hangar bay doors opened and fifteen swift Remora fighters dropped out and flew ahead of the diplomatic craft.
“That Manta is more firepower than I expected.” Frowning, Sorengaard tapped on the control console. “But we have the element of surprise and more than enough ships to achieve our goal.”
His ambush ships hung in the interplanetary void, running dark and silent. Lily felt a knot in her stomach. All fourteen of the waiting ships kept their weapons ready, waiting for the word. Sorengaard brushed sweat from his brow, watching the oblivious diplomatic craft traveling within range.
His voice was raspy when he spoke. “We can’t wait any longer, Cole. One of those newbies is going to jump the gun and ruin our element of surprise.” He reached for the comm as the green priest worked at the ship’s controls. His potted treeling was anchored and secured on an adjacent console, but he would not touch the plant, would not communicate through telink. This was their secret mission, and it would remain so.
Sorengaard barked into the comm, “Time to pounce! You know what to do.”
The Cause’s internal systems flared bright, and running lights dazzled like a new constellation in the dark emptiness. When the engines surged, Cole accelerated so hard that Lily stumbled against the bulkhead wall. Sorengaard’s flagship dove down like an eagle snatching a young hare. Attuned to their leader, Wanda and Bruno each piloted their own ships and followed him, firing warning shots.
“Target the Remoras!” Sorengaard called. “Disable only. I don’t want any unnecessary casualties. That’ll make negotiations a lot harder.”
Jazer blasts spat out, taking the small EDF fighter craft by surprise and punching out their engines. Only a few seconds behind the initial corsair ships, all ten new recruits charged in like a stampeding crowd, making orbital space above Dallal into a bright shooting gallery.
Within minutes, a dozen Remoras drifted in space, crippled, but the big Manta cruiser flared into action, powering up weapons ports.
“We only have a second,” Sorengaard said. “Surround the diplomatic craft! Aim all weapons toward the hull so they can see we mean business. That’ll make the others back away.”
The green priest brought the Cause just above the Chairman’s diplomatic ship, and thirteen other vessels swarmed around, holding the important craft hostage. “This is Rand Sorengaard,” he said over the open comm. “To the Manta commander—stand down, deactivate your weapons, power off all defenses. Our weapons are trained on the Chairman’s craft, and we will vaporize it at my order.” He smiled into the screen. “I would advise you to back away, if you value his life.”
Chatter buzzed across the comm as the Chairman’s vessel sat paralyzed and subdued. Lily’s throat was dry and she could barely breathe. Everything had happened in only a few seconds.
Sorengaard had shifted his expression, imagining that he spoke to someone else on the screen, which still remained blank. “Chairman Basil Wenceslas, my associates and I invite you to be our guest. We will remove you from the diplomatic craft and fly off for further negotiations. No one needs to get hurt. The current relationship between the Terran Hanseatic League and the Roamer clans is unacceptable, and we will convince you how to make improvements.” He crossed his long arms over his chest. “Prepare to surrender yourself, and we can be on our way.”
The response from the diplomatic craft was not at all what Lily expected. She had seen images of the suave and composed Chairman with his impeccable suits and his carefully maintained appearance. The transmission from the diplomatic craft, though, showed a dark-haired man in an EDF general’s uniform. His skin was ruddy with anger, and his brown eyes glinted. “The Chairman is aboard the Manta cruiser, Roamer scum. I’ll grant you only a few seconds to issue your own surrender.”
Cole recoiled from the piloting console. “They set a trap! They knew we’d be here.”
One of the new recruit ships opened fire and grazed the diplomatic craft’s hull with a scorching jazer blast. The Manta’s defenses brightened into full power as railgun ports opened and jazer emitters flared with energy.
Then three more Mantas roared down out of empty space from where they, too, had hidden in stealth mode, just waiting for Sorengaard’s ships to make their move. Their launching bays were already open and spewed out hundreds of Remora fighters.
Sorengaard reacted. “They ambushed us. We’ve been tricked!”
“By the Guiding Star!” Lily cried, pointing toward the main windowport. Behind the streaking cruisers came an enormous battleship five times the size of a Manta, with gleaming hull plates and massive weapons batteries. “Is that a Juggernaut? I’ve never seen a Juggernaut.”
Jazer blasts rained down, and a targeted railgun barrage hammered into Wanda’s ship, which exploded just above the diplomatic craft.
Sorengaard pounded the comm, yelling at his corsairs. “We’re dead in ten seconds unless we move! Full-line scatter retreat. You know what to do!”
Cole accelerated, throwing Lily to the deck as the Cause swirled away from their intended prey. The three other veteran corsair ships followed Sorengaard, but Bruno’s ship wheeled about and dove toward the first Manta, all of his weapons blazing. Twenty of the fast Remoras closed in on him, blasting his ship into space dust in only a few seconds.
Sorengaard and his two veteran ships raced away, desperate to escape.
But behind them, the new recruits were panicked. Their ten ships scrambled in uncoordinated retreat, not knowing where to go or what to do. “They’re not following us!” Lily cried.
“We can’t leave people behind, Rand,” the green priest said.
On the rear screens, five of the new recruits exploded under the barrage. The Juggernaut unleashed a storm of railgun projectiles, and the Mantas strafed the emptiness with jazers. The last ships were clearly doomed, unprepared for this kind of battle.
An overlapping chatter of screams and pleas splashed through the speaker, but the EDF mowed down the ships one by one.
“Nothing we can do,” Sorengaard said. “Go! Go!”
The Cause and two veteran ships accelerated away from the battle with their enhanced Roamer engines. When Cole activated the stardrive, their path stretched out in a flash, snapping them away from the Dallal system.
VII
The three surviving ships limped away like a funeral procession, heading back to the safety of their derelict Ildiran warliner. Devastated by what she had seen, Lily felt terrified and hopeless aboard the Cause. This was not the glorious victory she had expected. Naïve and cheerful, she had believed her father’s stories about how Rand Sorengaard fought for the rights of Roamers, but in those dangerous exploits, no one was supposed to get hurt. Taking from the greedy, helping the worthy. This wasn’t a game.
Cole avoided his treeling, refusing to connect with the worldforest, not wanting to learn any propaganda about what had happened at Dallal. Many in the Hansa already portrayed Sorengaard and his followers as violent terrorists, and he simply didn’t want his thoughts intermingling with those of other green priests.
“Somehow the Big Goose learned what we planned,” Sorengaard grumbled. He paced the deck, venting his anger to anyone who would listen, and the surviving corsairs added their own grief and frustration.
“They set us up.” Sorengaard hammered his fist against the bulkhead, pounding until his knuckles were bloody. “This is the Hansa’s fault. They changed the rules. Didn’t I give strict instructions to avoid casualties? When we fired on the Remora ships, we disabled engines only… and they destroyed Wanda’s ship with their first shot.” When he turned his darkened face to Lily, she saw only a stranger there. A chill went down her back.
His voice dropped, quieter but more deadly. “We can no longer afford to be charming Robin Hoods. Our cause is still just, and as Bruno, Wanda, and all those other ships demonstrated, our cause is worth dying for.” He squeezed his fists so tight Lily thought his knuckles might pop out of the skin. “They changed the rules,” he repeated.
Hours later, as they continued their somber flight back to base, the three battered ships unexpectedly encountered a cargo vessel on the outskirts of the Yreka system.
“It’s a trading ship, Rand,” Cole said. He glanced at his treeling but still refused to touch it. “All by itself, probably heading to Yreka with a load of cargo.” The grizzled green priest shrugged. “Seems to be a decent target.”
Emotions boiled to the surface on Sorengaard’s long face. “How do we know it’s not another trap?”
Cole frowned. “It’s not conceivable the EDF could guess our course and put a plan in place within a day. That’s just a trading ship.”
Sorengaard’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Then we’ve found our next prey. It’ll be the first step in making things right.”
With tight-beam transmission, he contacted the other two corsairs. “We’ll disable them and then take whatever we want. Fast and efficient. This is something we know how to do.”
Lily felt uneasy. “Shouldn’t we just get back to the base as fast as we can? So many people are dead already.”
“Not enough people.” Sorengaard’s words terrified her. “And not the right people.”
With well-practiced moves, the three corsair ships sprang out of the emptiness and closed around the oblivious trading vessel. Cole announced over the open comm, “Cargo ship, stand down and prepare to be boarded.”
Sorengaard shouldered him aside and boomed into the voice pickup. “This is Rand Sorengaard. Your ship now belongs to us.”
The panicked captain responded. “This is Captain Gabriel Mesta of the neutral trading vessel Great Expectations, under contract for Kett Shipping. We are neutral and unarmed. We don’t have any beef with you.”
“Unfortunately, we have a beef with you and what you represent,” Sorengaard said in a voice as cold as space. “You’re part of the Hansa, and the Hansa has caused us great harm. Prepare to surrender everything you have.” He paused, then growled, “Everything.”
Captain Mesta was a small-statured, swarthy man with blue-black hair and an elaborate mustache. Three crew members clustered around him at the comm screen, an older heavyset woman, a thin androgynous person, and a young deckhand not much older than Lily, a boy who had likely signed aboard to see the Spiral Arm.
“I know the Great Expectations,” Lily said, crowding closer after Sorengaard muted the comm. “It’s just a cargo ship. They brought supplies to our skymine a few times.”
“I didn’t change the rules,” the rebel leader said.
His three ships pressed around the cargo vessel, all their weapons hot and intimidating. The Great Expectations stood down as ordered, and Captain Mesta transmitted his surrender again and again, insisting that he wanted no trouble. But after their ships docked and Lily followed the boarding party aboard, it was clear to her that Sorengaard did indeed want trouble. He made a point of arming himself with a jazer sidearm, and the other corsairs looked like an invading army. They swarmed aboard the helpless ship, herding the captain and his terrified crew into the piloting deck.
The raiders searched the cabins and removed any personal possessions, whether or not they had value. They pulled out out gold chains and crystals, as well as a laminated watercolor painting. Others carried boxes of antique leather-bound books, a collection of mounted and preserved insects. In the cargo hold, they found expensive gourmet foods, bolts of cocoonweave fabric from Theroc, as well as practical goods for the colony world of Yreka.
Captain Mesta pleaded, “The Great Expectations works for Rlinda Kett. You’ve heard of her? She’ll pay whatever ransom you want. She takes care of her captains.”
“That would take too long,” Sorengaard said. “We’ve got a point to make and a message to send.”
Mesta stroked his dark mustache with a sweaty hand. “We can work something out. My crew knows—”
Sorengaard drew his jazer sidearm and blasted the captain in the middle of his chest. Expanding flesh and vaporized fluids burst his ribs out like harsh thorns, leaving a smoking hole. The captain’s face went dull before any pain registered, and he collapsed to the deck.
The other crew members screamed but had nowhere to run, hemmed in by the corsairs.
“No,” Lily cried. “Don’t! They don’t deserve this. They didn’t—”
Sorengaard had taken the first action, but several others drew their weapons, sickened and angry by the loss of their comrades at the Dallal ambush. Sidearm fire sizzled out in a free-for-all. Cut to pieces, the young deckhand sprawled dead in front of Lily. The older woman and the androgynous person were cut down before they could even try to fight back.
Cole stood stunned, blinking his dark emerald eyes. Sobbing, Lily dropped to her knees next to the nameless young man sprawled in front of her. She touched his chest, and her fingers came away with burnt smears of charcoal and blood. Lily looked up at Sorengaard. “You didn’t have to do that!”
His face was dispassionate, showing no reaction to the massacre he had just initiated. “They changed the rules. Think of our own dead. The blood is on the Hansa’s hands.”
“No!” Lily said. “No, no, no! No it isn’t. You didn’t have to.”
“Take her back aboard the Cause,” Sorengaard snapped to the green priest. “We’ll finish up here.”
Cole squeezed her arm and pulled her away. Lily didn’t want to go, nor did she want to stay. Her legs barely worked.
“Finish transferring the cargo, but leave the bodies here,” Sorengaard said and his corsairs scrambled to do as he commanded.
“We should take the ship, Rand. It could be refitted to make up for what we lost.”
He stood like a sculpture of steel. “No, we leave the Great Expectations drifting near Yreka where someone will find it. The Big Goose has to know that the game has changed.”
VIII
Back aboard the damaged Ildiran warliner that hung in the glare of the corona, the rebels welcomed Sorengaard and his survivors home, but it was a dark celebration. Even though they had not known many of the new recruits aboard the ten destroyed ships, some of the dead were extended clan members, and all Roamer families were connected in some way.
Sorengaard summoned his followers to the warliner’s convocation deck, which could accommodate huge meetings. More than a hundred and fifty angry rebels joined to vent their grief and frustration.
Standing on the speaking dais, Sorengaard spoke in his soaring charismatic voice, railing against the Earth Defense Forces and Chairman Wenceslas himself. “For a feast, we will serve the extravagant gourmet foods we took from the Great Expectations. Our first victory in this new war!” He raised his fist. “Make no mistake, it is a war now. The Big Goose wants to exterminate us. They raised the stakes in blood, and we have no choice but to fight back and keep fighting back until we win.” He didn’t allow even an undertone of defeat, but Lily thought his eyes had a hungry shine.
When his followers cheered, it was a growling, ugly sound. Feeling small in the crowd, Lily could not join in. She wanted to argue with them that a mere handful of rebels who robbed helpless cargo ships, who killed innocent crew members, couldn’t possibly stand against the Earth Defense Forces, a full interstellar navy. She also feared that if they continued their bloody attacks, the EDF wouldn’t just go after Sorengaard and his crew but would strike easier targets, too—Roamer outposts, mining installations, maybe even her clan’s skymine on Oriloo.
Her father had revered Rand Sorengaard. His eyes has sparkled when he saw the opportunity for his daughter to join a meaningful cause. But it was not meaningful, Lily decided… at least, not meaningful in the way Richard Hsieh dreamed. She had been gullible, accepting the leader’s brave words and bold statements, but she had seen the man up close now.
He was not a hero, but an impetuous man with a cause but no heart, no common sense. Regardless of how loyal his followers were, Lily knew the situation was only going to get worse, far worse. Lily wrestled with her decision, but finally made up her mind. She refused to go down with this man as he and his followers plunged willingly beyond the event horizon into a political black hole.
She acted without thinking, remembering Sorengaard’s own admonition. “Being impetuous doesn’t mean poor planning.”
Forcing themselves to celebrate, the men and women feasted in an effort to shore up their own confidence. Lily drifted away from the crowd, slipped out of the convocation hall and made her way back to her own quarters, but she realized she had nothing to pack, nothing she wanted to keep, not even the few mementos she had brought here in the first place. Everything had changed for her. She had only memories of her time with Rand Sorengaard, and she wished she could leave those behind, too.
With all the other followers busy at the gathering, Lily worked her way down back corridors, hurried to a lift, and dropped down to the warliner’s launching bay. She stepped out into the well-illuminated chamber, an empty, silent space where the numerous corsair ships sat fueled and ready for launch. Several were partially dismantled, undergoing maintenance, with additional weapons being strapped on for Sorengaard’s new and more violent campaign.
Standing alone, she scanned the available ships, dozens of them. Roamer vessels did not have a single design, many cobbled together from spare parts, old wrecks that were made to run again. Some looked sleek and well cared for, brightly painted, and some were no more than flying junk, but Lily knew they all functioned; no Roamer would have it otherwise.
Lily could fly any of these vessels because her father had raised her properly. She could jump the engines, power up the controls. Any ship would do; she just had to get out of here. Her time with Sorengaard and his corsairs was over. She would go back to being a skyminer’s daughter again. She didn’t want to be a pirate, didn’t want to be a rebel… didn’t want to be a murderer.
After a moment, she chose a small swift courier ship. It wasn’t particularly spacious, but she could certainly fly it. Not looking back, she strode toward the ship, gritting her teeth and knowing that she followed her Guiding Star.
She heard a soft whisper of movement, and the tall green priest stepped out from between two ships. Cole’s face was stormy, his eyes hard. He cradled his potted treeling in the crook of his arm, pressed against his bare chest. He stood between her and the ship.
She tensed and faced him. “Are you really going to try to stop me?” She wished she had brought a weapon. “Do you think I can’t fight you?”
After a long silence, Cole said, “On the contrary, I’ve reached the same conclusion.” He glanced back at the ship. “That one?”
“That one,” Lily said. “But I can’t believe you’re abandoning Rand Sorengaard. You’re one of his most important followers.”
“The only one he considers important is himself,” Cole said. “I gave a great deal of myself to join this cause. Now I don’t know if I can ever get that part of me back.” After a painful hesitation he stooped and set the potted treeling on the hangar deck, leaving it behind. “I just want to be out of here.”
Lily strode past him toward the courier ship, which would comfortably seat the two of them. They could be away before anyone knew what they were doing. She didn’t think of how Rand Sorengaard would rage at their desertion. “I’m piloting.” She extended the ramp and climbed into the cockpit.
The green priest followed her. “I wouldn’t have it otherwise. Let’s just get out of here.”