Another full load of ekti launched from the cloud harvester, and Sullivan Gold felt like celebrating, or at least wrapping up the tanks with ribbons and bows. He stood on the administrative deck like a Napoleon, watching his workers like a hawk, and they pretended to be intimidated by him. Everyone knew he was pleased with their progress so far. Sullivan wasn’t sure whether to credit his skilled management methods, or whether his crew just knew what they were doing.
“That’s three shipments in record time.” He grinned out at the placid clouds, standing behind the atmosphere-retention field of the open deck. “If the Hansa wasn’t already paying me so well, I’d demand a bonus.”
Beside him, Kolker smiled, but his eyes were closed, his hands resting on the treeling as he communicated through telink. “Nahton is hurrying to inform Chairman Wenceslas and the King.” Distracted, Kolker bowed his head again, touching the treeling. “Oh, excuse me—something else is happening.”
Sullivan let out an amused sigh. “All right, now who are you talking to?”
Speaking with only a fragment of his attention, the green priest answered, “Just a few friends. It’s nothing important.”
“Uh-huh. I had a teenage daughter once. I know how it can be—on the data network, or using voice communication, or even occasionally chatting face-to-face.”
Now the green priest opened his eyes. “I’m far away from my comrades here, and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen them. But we exchange plenty of information. A green priest’s purpose is to communicate, with each other and with the worldtrees.”
He had never seen Kolker when he wasn’t connected to his treeling. “And you do an excellent job of it.”
Sullivan felt the biting breeze on his cheeks from the ocean of hydrogen-rich clouds. The sky harvester hummed along, while small ships flitted around and inspection crews crawled over the lower hull of the processing modules. Every system operated perfectly. He couldn’t have asked for better results. “Talk to your pen pals as often as you like, Kolker, as long as you give priority to my communiqués and status reports when I ask.”
Kolker finished his mental message and released the treeling. “I could talk with you, as well, Sullivan.” He said it as if the thought had just occurred to him. “After all, you are right here beside me.”
“Oh, but am I as interesting? Why don’t you tell me about your friend—the one you were just talking to? What’s my competition?”
“No competition.” Kolker stroked the delicate fronds of the treeling. “Yarrod and I were acolytes together, but he never wanted to leave the embrace of the worldforest, while I chose to travel around and see the wonders of the Spiral Arm. The trees like that, you know. In effect, I am a set of wide and curious eyes that the forest itself doesn’t have. A sightseer by proxy. I share everything with the worldforest. It’s the greatest service a green priest can do in return for the joys of telink. I’ve got a list of all the planets I’ve visited. This gas giant has a sort of majesty, an awesome vastness that is difficult to convey.”
They both stared out at the swirling deep soup of clouds. “I just hope monsters don’t lurk beneath those cloud decks,” Sullivan said. “We’ve been here two months already, but I still feel like we’re on borrowed time. I just checked all the evacuation systems this morning and reviewed our emergency procedures. I’d stage another drill . . . but it would cut into our production time.”
“Do you ever sleep, Sullivan Gold?”
“I fit it into my schedule once in a while.”
Suddenly, they heard a roar of engines overhead, saw seven immense and gaudy shapes. The profiles of Ildiran warliners were unmistakable, like tropical fighting fish that trailed solar streamers and bristled with weapons.
Alarms began to ring in Sullivan’s control rooms. Warning announcements thundered through the intercom systems. He stared, then shook his head. “This isn’t good. Not at all.”
Already Kolker was connected to his treeling, quickly describing what he saw. The warliners grew larger and larger as they approached the Hansa cloud harvester. A huge old-model Ildiran skyfactory accompanied the cluster of alien battleships, towed along. Facing them here in the vast, empty skies, Sullivan thought the Ildiran warliners looked ominous and threatening.
“Looks like the new neighbors are moving in.” He stared until his eyes hurt. “Hmm, this may be an empty and uninhabited planet—but I wonder if the Hansa bothered to secure permission from the Ildirans for our activities . . . or if those warliners think we’re trespassing.”
Kolker looked up. “Perhaps that question should have been asked before now.”
“You’d better inform the Hansa that we’re about to have a little encounter with the Ildirans here. Ask them if we have formal permission from the Mage-Imperator to be on Qronha 3.”
“Yes. This will make a fascinating story—”
“Now, Kolker.”
A florid-faced communications officer raced to the observation deck, flinging open the hatch and looking around for Sullivan. “It’s the Ildiran Solar Navy, Mr. Gold! They are demanding to know what humans are doing here in their territory.”
“Not good.” Sullivan watched the monstrous warliners, then hurried toward the comm center. The Ildirans had never been a threat before, but these vessels could destroy the new cloud harvester within moments, if they thought they had enough provocation. “I’d better talk to them right away. We may be in trouble, unless I can turn on the charm.”
“Yes, we may be in trouble,” Kolker said. Sullivan couldn’t tell if the green priest was simply agreeing with him, or if it was an attempt at humor.