On time at Hurricane Depot . . . well, at least within an hour. That was a record, as far as Nikko was concerned. He had already delivered wental water to two uninhabited planets and now felt exhilarated at having done such a good job. He looked forward to relaxing for a night in guest quarters and eating good food in the cafés, exotic recipes cooked by families that remembered their ethnic heritage from Earth.
He’d been to Hurricane Depot dozens of times, usually piloting a cargo escort for ekti tanks or ferrying food from the Chan greenhouse domes. Nikko did better when he could see his destination and fly by the seat of his pants rather than relying on complex navigational systems. By now he knew the approach through the rocky obstacle course like the back of his hand.
This time, as Aquarius approached the orbiting planetoids, he saw two EDF Juggernauts circling the outer perimeter beyond the binary rocks. The Eddy ships had blasted away much of the boundary field to clear a safe path; dust and rubble drifted in unpredictable orbits, heated and accelerated by numerous explosions.
Three clan cargo ships streaked away, pursued by fast Remoras. The clans had modified many of their craft with “sprint” engines for superior acceleration, and now the fleeing ships scattered in all directions, faster than the infringing military vessels could follow.
“Shizz, what the hell is going on here?” He reached for the comm system to call Hurricane Depot’s control center, but realized it might be smart to keep quiet. The Aquarius was a small ship coming in on a high polar vector; he was sure the EDF hadn’t seen him yet.
Nikko intercepted a warning broadcast. “This is Roberto Clarin. The EDF has seized control of Hurricane Depot! They’re confiscating all our supplies. No doubt they’ll kill everyone here.” The message was a standard EM signal, blasted out into space. It would take years to reach the nearest inhabited system, but incoming Roamer vessels—like Nikko’s—might also intercept it.
He sat in his cockpit white-knuckled and angry, not knowing what he could do. The stored vials of powerful wentals in the Aquarius thrummed and vibrated with questions and concerned curiosity. He growled aloud, “Remember what I told you about our stupid reasons for wars? You’re witnessing one of them here.”
Below him, EDF workers efficiently stripped Hurricane Depot of all food crates, all ekti tanks, all cargo, all personal possessions. Nikko eavesdropped on conversations transmitted over the EDF frequencies. The Eddies were joking and sneering, amused at the Roamers’ attempts at resistance. “They’re robbing us blind!”
As he watched in horror, Nikko felt the wentals’ deep disquiet. It is like a hydrogue attack . . . only these soldiers have betrayed their own people.
All the inhabitants of Hurricane Depot were being taken into custody and loaded aboard Manta cruisers. The station chief Roberto Clarin had apparently been seized as a prisoner of war, though no formal war had been declared. Nikko feared that the military would simply make all those people from Hurricane Depot “disappear.”
“Clear everyone off the station,” General Lanyan’s voice transmitted. “Take your time and do a thorough job. The Chairman wants no casualties, if at all possible. He believes it will help us secure better capitulation terms from the Roamer clans.”
“Capitulation?” Nikko growled to himself. “To those pillaging barbarians?” From the Aquarius, he recorded files and files of detailed eyewitness images to prove the EDF involvement. But it would be no surprise to the clans, not since he’d found the wreckage of Kamarov’s ship.
“I’ve got to get a warning back to Rendezvous,” he said, anxious to depart but unwilling to leave until the whole operation was over. He kept his engines primed for sudden high acceleration, in case he needed to run.
We can transmit the message, the water entity said. All wental-bearing ships will know what has happened here. They can spread the word swiftly among the Roamers.
Nikko looked at the shimmering containers he kept near him on the piloting deck. “You can communicate with each other faster than I can send a signal?”
We are all basically the same entity. What one of us knows, all wentals know.
Nikko gasped. “Like telink through the worldtrees!”
The verdani are similar to the wentals. That is why we were allies in the ancient war.
Within an hour, most of the EDF battleships packed up and departed from the gravitationally stable island between the orbiting planetoids. The Mantas took their spoils of war and accompanied the guardian Juggernauts, threading their way out of the debris zone. On the fringe of the system, they kept station and waited.
But two cruisers remained behind, still attached to the now-abandoned depot facility. The cruisers fired up their engines and used heavy acceleration to push the delicately balanced station away from its stable point. Then the Mantas disengaged from the docking rings and pulled back as the enormous habitat cluster continued to move.
The depot’s position had always been relatively precarious, located accurately between the poles of the two orbiting mountains. Now the added boost from the Mantas’ powerful engines tipped it from the saddle point. Like a ball gradually rolling off the top of a hill, Hurricane Depot tumbled and began to pick up speed as it fell out of gravitational equilibrium.
“I can’t believe this,” Nikko said. The Aquarius continued to take a full sequence of images. “I simply cannot accept what my eyes are showing me!”
Hurricane Depot drifted away. Already it was being battered by a cannonade of outlier rocks and ice. Nikko used his ship’s observation scopes to obtain higher resolution. A large meteoroid smashed through one of the cargo hulls, ripping open a gaping hole. Other debris continued to pummel, dent, and smash the tumbling station—and still it kept moving, falling toward the nearest of the tide-locked orbiting planetoids. Venting atmosphere gave the facility an added nudge.
When Hurricane Depot finally collided with the hurtling mountain, it was like a helpless rodent run down by a speeding vehicle. In an instant, it was over.
The rough-edged planetoid slammed into the habitat complex and flattened it into scrap metal, plumes of escaping air, and flickers of fire, as wisps of stored fuel ignited and battery packs exploded. Shrapnel splashed outward, spraying a slow-motion fantail of cluttered flotsam.
Nikko felt as if he would be violently ill.
Smug and bloated with their stolen treasures and their prisoners, the EDF battle group lumbered away like an army of swaggering conquerors. As soon as they had gone out of range and Nikko knew the Aquarius would not be detected, he launched his ship, accelerating fully.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” he said to the wentals. The message had already been sent to the other water-bearing ships, but he alone could deliver the images, the comm recordings, the tangible evidence. Nikko just hoped he wouldn’t get lost this time. His responsibility was too important.