“On our way, Admiral,” came a crackling voice. “First squadron ETA in four and a half minutes, just under the wire.”

The first Remoras and fuel tankers swooped low, then opened their cargo bays to dump water onto the blazing worldtrees. Smaller ships emptied their reservoirs, releasing water they had scooped from Theroc’s lakes. Steam gushed into the air, rising through the dense forest canopy.

The faeros blazed paradoxically brighter as they drew energy from the worldtrees to fight off the quenching water.

Willis heard a groan, saw Celli and Solimar hunched over their treelings inside the command shuttle, both of them connected through telink. The green priests had come aboard her shuttle to act as intermediaries. Their eyes were squeezed shut, faces drawn in identical grimaces as they fought with all their hearts and minds. Celli hissed in pain and gripped her treeling. She blinked, but didn’t focus on anything around her. Her words sounded hollow. “That hurt them, but not enough. The faeros are ravenous.”

The small ships, now empty, circled back toward the nearest sources of open water. “Second squadron inbound, Admiral.”

“The drenching will be continuous now,” Willis said. “I don’t care how tough these fires are. We’ll stomp them again and again until there’s nothing left but a puff of smoke.”

A second barrage of water hindered the further spread of the fire. The torch trees shuddered and thrashed as if undergoing some kind of internal conflict, an elemental battle that Willis couldn’t understand.

“Four more green priests have died,” Solimar announced. “They were unable to wall themselves off from the trees they were helping through telink.”

“Green priests have spread the alarm across other planets,” Celli said.

“For whatever good that’ll do us now,” Willis said.

“The wentals are also aware,” Celli said. “Jess Tamblyn and Cesca Peroni have arrived at Osquivel. Liona has told them what’s happening here.”

“And what can they do?”

“They can bring the wentals.”

As the third group of EDF water tankers cruised in, the flaming trees tensed, and the fires intensified at the crowns. Celli suddenly screamed, and Solimar reeled backward. The torch trees shot out tendrils of fire that curled upward like solar flares and incinerated two of Willis’s ships before they could dump their loads of water. Another blast of targeted fire raged from the clustered burning trees, vaporizing a large tanker.

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.”