Horizon Storms by Kevin J. Anderson

wormhole. The engineers at Yarrod’s station will open up the mouth, feed it the neutron star, which then gets dumped smack into the lap of the drogues down there. The extra mass will be enough to implode Ptoro into a new star.”
    Rossia stroked the thin gold bark on his treeling. “Oh, the hydrogues won’t like that.”
    “And there isn’t a damn thing they can do to stop us.”
    Tasia listened to the preparations, shouted confirmations, transmitted checks and double-checks as the systems were readied. EDF scout ships flew out, scanning the iron-gray clouds, dipping close to the atmosphere,

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    and then retreating to orbital safety. Exo-meteorologists documented the wind patterns and temperature layers that delineated the gas giant’s internal topography.
    As she always did on missions that put her face-to-face with the drogues, Tasia thought of all the casualties suffered thus far in the unnecessary war. Her brother’s death on the Blue Sky Mine had given Tasia her first incentive to join the Earth Defense Forces. She had fought the damned aliens in the clouds of Jupiter after their murderous emissary had delivered his ultimatum and killed Old King Frederick. She’d also been at Osquivel, where the EDF’s largest battle force against the hydrogues had been utterly trounced. And Robb had been lost.
    By igniting Ptoro, she meant to give the hydrogues a black eye for a change. She leaned forward. “Shizz, that’s going to be the biggest campfire anyone’s ever seen.”
    Her navigator, Elly Ramirez, said, “I hope someone brought marsh-mallows.”
    “They are too complacent.” Anwar Zizu, her weapons officer, leaned closer to inspect the tactical screens. “If I were a hydrogue, I’d never let an EDF ship get this close.”
    “If you were a hydrogue, Sergeant, I would kick your ass off my bridge.”
    Tasia sat back and silently ordered the butterflies in her stomach to stop their unruly fluttering. “Enough chitchat. Launch the torpedoes from our end. No sense giving the enemy time to pack their suitcases.”
    The Manta’s modified weapons ports fired a group of silvery cylinders adapted from Klikiss designs found on Corribus. Here it comes. Sensor screens showed the small torpedolike generators descending into the clouds.
    “Tell Yarrod to have his engineers ready on the scout ship. As soon as our anchors are in position, I want that neutron star on its way here like a cannonball.”
    Rossia communicated the information through the tree network.
    Elly Ramirez frowned at her nav screens. “I expected to see the drogues barking and snarling by now.”
    “You complaining?” Her eyes glittering with determination, Tasia clasped her hands together. “In a minute they’ll have other things to worry about than chasing after us.”

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H O R I Z O N S T O R M S
    Ptoro looked so harmless down there, so uninteresting. She wished this could have been Osquivel, as payback for what the drogues had done to the EDF there. She felt the familiar hollowness at the thought of Robb and all the other EDF casualties. Hell, she even missed the obnoxious Patrick Fitzpatrick III. She’d always wanted the spoiled bastard to get his comeuppance . . . but from her, not the drogues.
    “Anchor points in position, Commander Tamblyn,” Zizu announced.
    “Open the conduit. Let’s send them a present.”
    Rossia relayed the instructions through his treeling. He kept his large eyes closed, as if he didn’t want to see what was happening. Everyone on the Manta’s bridge waited in silence. The rest of the escort ships sent queries, but Tasia didn’t answer them. Not yet.
    The green priest looked up. “It is done. Yarrod reports that the wormhole is opened and the neutron star is gone.”
    Tasia brightened. “On its way. Fire in the hole.”
    She looked at the huge gray planet, but saw no change. As soon as the neutron star arrived, fusion fires would begin deep within, but the initial shockwave would