“Our course is true, Tal.” The voice belonged to one of the few men who remained with him. “The intercept point is locked in.”

When they had finally decided to do this, Prime Designate Daro’h had offered to send a full crew to assist O’nh. Knowing what was at stake, hundreds had volunteered their services, but the old veteran had argued that a small ship had a better chance of reaching the orbital facility without being stopped by faeros. Also, he wanted no unnecessary casualties; the cost was already unbearably high. “Every Ildiran life is precious, Prime Designate. Give me five volunteers, and we will change history.”

He had heard the awe and appreciation in Daro’h’s voice. “You will burn your name in theSaga of Seven Suns. I will see to it that Chief Scribe Ko’sh records all you have done.”

“By our actions today, I hope to make certain there is still more of theSaga to write,” O’nh had said.

The thought of what young Designate Ridek’h had been willing to do gave him strength. On their flight up to the shipyards, his heart had felt heavy with the knowledge that the boy must be dead, but he was also proud of his protege. And now O’nh hoped to put an end to the mad Designate who had caused so much harm and pain.

The five volunteers had operated the cold controls, reawakening the mothballed systems. As a blind man, he could make none of the actual modifications, but he gave them instructions and did not let them falter.

At the edge of the system, Tal Ala’nh and his warliners waited, unaware of what was happening here. Adar Zan’nh had not wanted to risk a transmission to inform them, fearing that Rusa’h might somehow intercept it. But O’nh knew Tal Ala’nh well enough; he and his cohort would be ready. The Adar should be watching intently, ready to race away with his nine warliners to join the rest of the Solar Navy.

After a few more moments passed, O’nh could feel the great structure shudder around him, buffeted by the thickening atmosphere. “What are our fuel reserves?” Unable to look at the people inside the control chamber, he stared into his own darkness.

“Enough to adjust our course if necessary, Tal.” The thin voice belonged to an engineer kithman. “But we used most of our supplies to send us on as rapid a descent as possible. We will strike the target.”

O’nh nodded. “Good. There is no going back.”

“No, Tal. No going back.”

“Our place in theSaga is assured.” He sat back and waited, imagining that all of the framework must now be glowing a cherry red, thermal waves flying off as ablation peeled away the outer layers of metal. He wished he could see true light one last time, but soon this frail body would be gone and his soul would be on the plane of the Lightsource.

Rusa’h could not know what was coming directly toward him.

Though these four warliners would never be completed, the huge skeletal ships would perform a great service for the Solar Navy. What mattered now was not weaponry or maneuverability, but sheermass. The orbital descent was set.

The control chamber shuddered violently, and he gripped the sturdy arms of his chair to hold himself steady. He heard hissing sounds, the screaming whine of air as it whipped through the girders. “Today we strike a blow the faeros can never forget, one that Ildirans will forever remember.”

The spacedocks, unassembled hull plates, gigantic engine components, girders and assembly bays, all of the useless heavy junk, tore down through the atmosphere. O’nh could feel the heat as the falling city turned into a meteor.

Though most of their sensors had burned out, one of his assistants cried, “Faeros fireballs! Ten of them, heading straight toward us.”

“Rusa’h has finally guessed what we are about to do.” A smile formed on his scarred face. “But he cannot stop us.”

The flaming ellipsoids launched gouts of fire at the descending complex, but though they melted some of the framework, the shipyards were a falling projectile that could not be deflected.

Just then, he received a static-filled transmission from Prime Designate Daro’h. “I have good news for you, Tal O’nh. Ridek’h is alive! Osira’h and the others protected him. He is safe.”

O’nh drew a large breath, though it burned his lungs. He felt a deep, satisfying contentment. “Thank you, Prime Designate.”

The faeros fireballs continued to pummel the shipyards with increasing desperation. Flames licked through the framework, but even when two of the spacedock components and one warliner frame sheared away from the central mass, the separate projectiles continued to descend on the same trajectory.

Sitting in the middle of it all, protected for only a few moments more, the old veteran wished he could see. The nearest engineer kithman shouted, “There are flames all around us, Tal, but the clouds have just parted. We shot through them like a projectile.”

“What do you see?”

“Mijistra — it is beautiful! The city spreads out, but it is empty. And there’s the Prism Palace. I am glad I got to see it one last time. The whole Palace glows. It is lit up with the fire from within.”

O’nh nodded. “Good, then Rusa’h is likely still inside. He cannot get away.”

In the last moment, Tal O’nh felt as if he were bringing the very Lightsource itself to Ildira.

83

Prime Designate Daro’h

With Yazra’h at his side, her hair blowing wildly in the warm breeze, Daro’h stood on a hill far from the outskirts of Mijistra. With tears in his eyes he stared at his beloved majestic city and the shining gem of the Prism Palace. Having said his farewells to Tal O’nh, he set aside the communication device.

Words failed him as the flaming hand of vengeance descended toward Mijistra.

He heard a deafening shriek as the shipyards ripped a hole through the sky. They trailed a plume of vaporized metal like a comet’s tail of clotting blood. Fireballs harried the plummeting mass, but they could not stop its descent.

Yazra’h stared, unable to blink. Daro’h clutched his sister’s arm. Chief Scribe Ko’sh silently joined them.

The shipyards came down in a colossal explosion, as if an asteroid-sized hammer had slammed into the heart of Mijistra. Into the Prism Palace.

Daro’h covered his eyes from the blinding flash. Ripples of destruction flattened the buildings, erasing the greatest achievements of the Ildiran Empire. The capital city vanished in a rumble of unleashed kinetic energy.

The shockwave took only a few seconds to arrive, but it was strong enough to knock them to the ground. The explosion seemed to go on and on.

After a long, stunned moment Daro’h got to his hands and knees, then slowly, unsteadily, climbed to his feet. “My heart has been ripped from my chest.” His voice sounded strangely muffled in his ears.