Free Horizon Storms by Kevin J. Anderson Page A

the luminous reliquary, ignoring the unhelpful skulls of his ancestors, Jora’h felt confident of his decision. With Qronha 3 free of the enemy, for now, he would command Zan’nh to reassemble one of the large cloud-harvesting facilities and return there with a full complement of miner kithmen, bred to be ekti harvesters. It was a positive, proac-tive step—one more victory purchased by the heroic death of Adar Kori’nh.
    With a grim smile on his face, Jora’h turned to leave his silent ancestors behind and called for his son Zan’nh.

S U L L I V A N G O L D
33
    105SuLLIVAN GOLD
    Opportunity always knocks: Sometimes it scratches quietly, and sometimes it pounds like a blustery drunk demanding to be let in.
    When news came to the Hansa that the hydrogues had been defeated at Qronha 3, they quickly took advantage of the circumstances. Rich hydrogen clouds were available for the taking, at least temporarily, and all that potential ekti could not be ignored.
    Enormous cargo transports rushed components from orbiting industrial centers to the empty Ildiran gas planet, where they would be assembled at the fringes of the dense cloud decks. Highly paid volunteers signed up to work the new Hansa cloud harvester. Only a crazy person, or an overly optimistic one, would have taken such a job.
    Sullivan Gold accepted the assignment to become the facility’s manager, knowing full well the risks and potential rewards. It was a business decision that made perfect sense to him. The payoff would be either a feather in his cap, or a fitting epitaph on his tombstone.
    Now, as the first wave of Hansa transport ships arrived at Qronha 3, Sullivan watched swarms of workers guide the massive components together. Heavy storage tanks, ekti reactors, life-support modules, and engineering decks came together one at a time, like the pieces of a puzzle. He scrutinized every step of the process, checking and double-checking the work.
    Though hundreds of laborers came here initially to set up the huge skyfactory, only a few dozen would remain once the cloud harvester came online. The elite. The sitting ducks. Sullivan considered having the men paint a logo or mascot on the side of the huge facility. A mallard might be nice . . . or a bull’s-eye.
    He had a practical wife named Lydia, three sons, a daughter, and (so far, at least) ten grandchildren, all of them intelligent and ambitious, sure to be movers and shakers someday. When the Hansa had called for an industrial head to run the new cloud harvester, Sullivan had gathered his 34

H O R I Z O N S T O R M S
    family for dinner and sprang his suggestion. “With the terms the Hansa is offering, there’s no way for us to lose!”
    “Well, you can, dear,” Lydia said. Then she took out a sheet of paper, marking one side Pros, the other side Cons. They had discussed the matter late into the night, always coming back to her stern finger tapping the columns that listed advantages and disadvantages.
    On the pro side, the Hansa was offering the Gold family major industrial concessions, interest-free business loans, guaranteed orders for a large variety of products—enough to transform them from simple businessmen into an actual dynasty. The cloud harvester would be designed to allow for a rapid evacuation; there was a chance (though not a good one) that Sullivan and his crew might escape if they were attacked by hydrogues. At least it looked possible on paper.
    The disadvantages were obvious. . . .
    Now, in the glassed-in forward dome of the largest Hansa vessel, the green priest assigned to this venture joined Sullivan as he continued his observation. Unusual among green priests, Kolker worked as a freelance telink communicator, hiring himself out from one Hansa ship to another.
    He wasn’t one of the nineteen volunteers who were assisting the EDF; he had already spent years in the commercial empire.
    Though Kolker was always available to submit Sullivan’s important status reports to the Hansa or