bicycle, many doing a double take as they saw the un-helmeted human and Karigole walking amongst them.
“Of relevance,” Un’qu said, “an enemy force landed on a small city in a separate canyon. They massacred the city and came through the gravity-train tunnel without warning. The noorla fought through the Apex Station’s defenders and were about to overwhelm the entire city when my predecessor sabotaged the arms depot beneath Apex Station. The explosion…” Un’qu pointed to the smoking remnants. Broken rail lines ran to tunnels in the surrounding canyons and into the earth outside the city like ribs of a picked-over carcass lying in the desert. “Our leadership council was lost in the explosion, along with most of our military’s senior officers. The decision to collapse all other tunnels leading to New Abhaile was made soon afterwards.”
“Trapping all the outlying settlements,” Hale said. “I was just in Galogesvi picking up survivors.”
“The decision wasn’t easy,” Un’qu said, looking away from Hale. “Our air force has been evacuating everyone we can, but we have only so many airframes … and there have been losses since. But it is better to lose a finger than one’s arm.”
“I know a guy named Ibarra back on Earth that you’d get along with,” Hale said.
Un’qu gave him a sideways look.
Hale looked across the city. Armed Dotok built fighting positions along the outer walls or manned flak cannons atop the converted spaceships. Children and elder Dotok hurried from ship to ship, carrying boxes or hauling sand in three-wheeled barrows.
“How many people are in this city?” Steuben asked.
“Maybe fifty thousand,” Un’qu said.
“And how many spacecraft?” Steuben asked.
“Just the Burning Blade , the rest were destroyed.”
The Breitenfeld had a crew complement of seven hundred. It could carry—at most—an additional thousand civilians before its life-support systems overloaded. The Burning Blade was half the size of the Breitenfeld from stem to stern. There was no way they could evacuate every Dotok off the planet.
As they walked into a tunnel running through a ship the size of a destroyer, Hale came to a stop to marvel at what was on the other side. A ship over a mile long and almost a half mile across lay nestled in a frame of enormous struts and braces forming a cradle for the ship. The smooth curve of the upper hull gleamed in the waning sunlight. The landed ship was at the very center of the city; raised stone roads emanated out from vestigial docking bays and expanded into the wider boulevards.
“That’s…something else,” Hale said.
“The Canticle of Reason , she was the heart of the colonization fleet,” Un’qu said. “Most of her systems were failing by the time we reached Takeni. Ancient Pa’lon decided to beach the ship instead of waiting for shelters to be built on the surface. At the time, the decision saved thousands of lives. Given our current situation, it was a poor choice.”
“What about the rest of the ships? Why were they brought to the surface?” Steuben asked.
“Our star emits rather powerful, and irregular, solar storms. Once the Canticle was beached, a storm of particular strength would have caused significant damage to the remaining fleet, so he had them all brought down.” Un’qu looked at his wristwatch. “The four hundred and ninth Landing Day celebration is ten days from now.”
“Wait, is the Ancient Pa’lon we’re going to meet the same one from the story you just told us?” Hale asked.
“The same,” Un’qu said.
“It is rare that I meet another species so similar to mine that is also so long-lived,” Steuben, age four hundred and seven, said.
“Our elderly normally pass on in their nineties.”
“Then how is Ancient Pa’lon so…ancient?” Hale asked.
“It would be best for you to ask him yourself. Dotok consider gossip to be unbecoming of cultured individuals.” Un’qu gestured to an opening on
“Of relevance,” Un’qu said, “an enemy force landed on a small city in a separate canyon. They massacred the city and came through the gravity-train tunnel without warning. The noorla fought through the Apex Station’s defenders and were about to overwhelm the entire city when my predecessor sabotaged the arms depot beneath Apex Station. The explosion…” Un’qu pointed to the smoking remnants. Broken rail lines ran to tunnels in the surrounding canyons and into the earth outside the city like ribs of a picked-over carcass lying in the desert. “Our leadership council was lost in the explosion, along with most of our military’s senior officers. The decision to collapse all other tunnels leading to New Abhaile was made soon afterwards.”
“Trapping all the outlying settlements,” Hale said. “I was just in Galogesvi picking up survivors.”
“The decision wasn’t easy,” Un’qu said, looking away from Hale. “Our air force has been evacuating everyone we can, but we have only so many airframes … and there have been losses since. But it is better to lose a finger than one’s arm.”
“I know a guy named Ibarra back on Earth that you’d get along with,” Hale said.
Un’qu gave him a sideways look.
Hale looked across the city. Armed Dotok built fighting positions along the outer walls or manned flak cannons atop the converted spaceships. Children and elder Dotok hurried from ship to ship, carrying boxes or hauling sand in three-wheeled barrows.
“How many people are in this city?” Steuben asked.
“Maybe fifty thousand,” Un’qu said.
“And how many spacecraft?” Steuben asked.
“Just the Burning Blade , the rest were destroyed.”
The Breitenfeld had a crew complement of seven hundred. It could carry—at most—an additional thousand civilians before its life-support systems overloaded. The Burning Blade was half the size of the Breitenfeld from stem to stern. There was no way they could evacuate every Dotok off the planet.
As they walked into a tunnel running through a ship the size of a destroyer, Hale came to a stop to marvel at what was on the other side. A ship over a mile long and almost a half mile across lay nestled in a frame of enormous struts and braces forming a cradle for the ship. The smooth curve of the upper hull gleamed in the waning sunlight. The landed ship was at the very center of the city; raised stone roads emanated out from vestigial docking bays and expanded into the wider boulevards.
“That’s…something else,” Hale said.
“The Canticle of Reason , she was the heart of the colonization fleet,” Un’qu said. “Most of her systems were failing by the time we reached Takeni. Ancient Pa’lon decided to beach the ship instead of waiting for shelters to be built on the surface. At the time, the decision saved thousands of lives. Given our current situation, it was a poor choice.”
“What about the rest of the ships? Why were they brought to the surface?” Steuben asked.
“Our star emits rather powerful, and irregular, solar storms. Once the Canticle was beached, a storm of particular strength would have caused significant damage to the remaining fleet, so he had them all brought down.” Un’qu looked at his wristwatch. “The four hundred and ninth Landing Day celebration is ten days from now.”
“Wait, is the Ancient Pa’lon we’re going to meet the same one from the story you just told us?” Hale asked.
“The same,” Un’qu said.
“It is rare that I meet another species so similar to mine that is also so long-lived,” Steuben, age four hundred and seven, said.
“Our elderly normally pass on in their nineties.”
“Then how is Ancient Pa’lon so…ancient?” Hale asked.
“It would be best for you to ask him yourself. Dotok consider gossip to be unbecoming of cultured individuals.” Un’qu gestured to an opening on
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