The Gem Lords

The Worlds at War - Part 1

The Jules Verne came to a dead stop in space, a hundred million miles from the sun around which the Shipbuilder world orbited. Now the search for that planet could begin, and the crew turned their magnifying devices on the first of the stars that filled the sky, searching for the handful that were different. Not mighty suns, shrunk to tiny points of light by the immense distances at which they lay, but planets which would appear as visible disks in their telescopes and scrying mirrors.

They expected that the job might take weeks, even months, but they got lucky and spotted their first planet almost at once. "We looked at the brightest star first, and there it was!" said Karog Gunlubber, the only trog member of the crew as Saturn returned to the bridge in response to his summons. "A planet, and almost identical to Tharia! And when we looked closer we saw that!"

Saturn could tell from the trog's tone of voice that there was no immediate danger, that what he'd found was interesting rather than threatening, and so he took the time to settle himself comfortably into his chair before looking up into the scrying mirror. Image was everything. The need to give a good impression, to maintain the respect, even the awe, of the lesser people around him, had become such a habit that he did it without even being aware of it. He even smoothed his robes over his knees, brushing a tiny speck of lint from the black fabric, before deciding he was in danger of overdoing it.

When he looked up at the scrying mirror, though, even his legendary self control failed to keep a look of surprise from appearing on his face. Ships! Hundreds of them, all clustered beside the planet the trog had found.

"They're leaving the surface and heading out into space," said Karog, his fingers playing nervously with his trophy cords, "and others are heading in for a landing, but we haven't identified where they're going or coming from yet."

Saturn studied them for a while, giving commands to the mirror to examine one of the ships in more detail. Then he activated a dormant Farspeaking spell to send a message to Thomas. He gave a quick outline of the situation, and then said, "Get a Coronet of Farspeaking and get back outside on the walkway. If you sense any Rossemian magic, let me know at once."

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Thomas, torn away from his book for the second time that day, uttered a muffled curse as he hurried to the wizard's workroom, where the spare magical artifacts were stored. Tassley and Braddle Bandock were there, engaged in their own work, and Thomas paused just long enough to fill them in on what was happening.

"Rossemian ships!" gasped the nome excitedly, his gnarled fingers gripping his long, silver beard. "So this is it at last. The Shipbuilder civilisation."

"So it would seem," agreed Thomas, making the hand movements that cancelled the locking spells on the storage cabinet. "And still going strong after all these thousands of years. They'll have a thing or two to teach us about how to make a civilisation last."

"Speak for yourself," chuckled Braddle. "It's only human civilisations that rise and fall like a whore's knickers. All the other humanoid races seem to have no trouble building stable societies."

"Ouch!" said Thomas, grinning at the mental image generated by the nome's analogy as he found a Coronet of Farspeaking and closed the cabinet again, the locking spells flaring as they engaged automatically. "You have a way with words, my little friend." Then he sobered, however, as he thought about all those ships and how they might react when they became aware of the Jules Verne. "Watch out for yourself," he warned as he left. "We could be heading into a battle."

"You watch yourself first," said Tassley, however. "We'll be safe in here, but you'll be outside, exposed and vulnerable. Make sure you get back inside at the first sign of trouble."