Read Online Throne of Stars by David Weber, John Ringo - Free Book Online Page B

one to the south was wreathed in thick, leafy, emerald-green foliage that made it look like a verdant paradise. Of course, as the Marines had learned the hard way, it was more likely to be a verdant hell, Mardukan jungles being what they were.
    The island to the north, however, was simply a black hunk of basalt, rising out of the blue waters. Its stark, uncompromising lines made it look bigger than it actually was, and the top—the only portion formed into anything resembling a traditional cone—trailed a gentle plume of ash and steam.
    “I could tell you,” Julian replied with a grimace. “But you’d have to believe me rather than your religion.”
    Fain thought about that. So far, he’d found nothing that directly contradicted the doctrines of the Lord of Water. On the other hand, the dozens of belief systems he and the other infantry had encountered since leaving Diaspra had already indicated to him that the gospel of the priests of Water was not, perhaps, fundamentally correct. While there was no question that the priests understood the science of hydraulics, it might be that their overall understanding of the world was less precise.
    “Go ahead,” he said with a handclap of resignation. Then he chuckled. “Do your worst!”
    Julian smiled in response and gestured at the vast expanse of water stretched out around the flotilla.
    “The first thing you have to accept is that the priests’ description of the world as a rock floating in eternal, endless waters isn’t correct.”
    “Since we’re intending to sail to the far side, I’d already come to the conclusion that ‘endless water’ might not be exactly accurate,” Fain admitted with another handclap.
    “What the world really is, is a ball floating in nothingness,” Julian said, and raised both hands as Fain started to protest. “I know. How is that possible? Well, you’re going to have to trust me for now, and check it out later. But what matters right now is that the center of the ball—the world—is very, very hot. Hot enough to melt rock. And it stays that way.”
    “That I have a hard time with,” Fain said, shaking his head. “Why is it hot? And if it is, when will it cool?”
    “It’s hot because there’s . . . stuff in there that’s something like what makes our plasma cannon work,” Julian said, waving his hands with a sort of vague frustration as he looked for an explanation capable of crossing the technological gulf yawning between his worldview and Fain’s. “Like I said,” he said finally. “You’ll just have to trust me on some of this. But it is—hot, I mean—and somewhere under that mountain, there’s a channel that connects to that hot part. That’s why it smokes. Think of it as a really, really big chimney. As for when the inside of the world will cool, that won’t happen for longer than I can explain. There will no longer be humans—or Mardukans—when it starts to cool.”
    “This is too strange,” Fain said. “And how do I explain it to my soldiers? ‘It’s that way because Sergeant Julian said so’?”
    “I dunno,” Julian replied. “Maybe the sergeant major can help you out. On the other hand . . .”

    Roger watched Bebi’s team begin the entry. The team had already worked on open area techniques. Now they were working on closed . . . and they looked like total dorks.
    There was nowhere to create a real shooting environment on the flotilla’s ships, so the troopers were using the virtual reality software built into their helmet combat systems and their toots. The “shoot house” was nothing more than the open deck of a schooner, but with the advanced systems and the toots’ ability to massage sensory input, it would be as authentic to the participants as if there were real enemies.
    But since their audience could see that they were standing on nothing more than an unobstructed stretch of deck planks, the “entry team” looked like a group of warrior-mimes.
    The virtual reality software built