A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [215]
“Sire, we have important quotas established by the EDF. What you ask would take a great deal of time and a substantial amount of—”
“But well worth it, I’m sure,” the King said, then raised his voice. “For the good of the kingdom, I hereby put this manufacturing complex on standby until I am satisfied that we fully understand the alien technology we have assimilated. Keep fabricating components and preparing Soldier compies, if you must, but do not bring any more of them on-line until these important questions are answered.”
The plant workers looked around in confusion and dismay, but they had heard the King express his doubts. Therefore, they had to wonder as well.
Now one of the well-dressed Hansa officials stepped forward. “Sire, I’m afraid that is impossible.”
Peter looked at the blond-haired official as if he were an insect, an expression he had learned from Basil. “Excuse me? What is your name?”
“Pellidor, Sire. Franz Pellidor, Special Liaison to Chairman Wenceslas. I’m sorry, but you cannot delay production. This is an autonomous factory.”
Peter maintained his benevolent patience, though everyone could see his cool confidence. “Mr. Pellidor, I have expressed legitimate concerns. The safety of the Hansa is my primary responsibility.” The royal guards looked from Peter to the businessman, not sure what they were supposed to do.
“Nevertheless, Sire,” Pellidor persisted, “such decisions must go through appropriate channels. With more analysis and inspection, we will resolve this issue.”
“I hope so,” said Peter. “But in the meantime, no further Soldier compies will be activated. That is my royal command.”
“Sire, you can’t do that.”
Peter let his indignation show, and he gestured to all the workers. “Does any person here believe that a—what was your title again?—‘Special Liaison to the Chairman’ outranks the King?” He chuckled to emphasize the absurdity of the suggestion. Many workers also laughed. The bureaucrats fidgeted uneasily and backed away.
Peter turned back to the shift crew. “Everyone in this factory has worked hard and should be proud of what they’ve accomplished. They won’t mind a reduced schedule for the next few weeks. They will of course receive full pay during the entire time.”
The workers cheered, and Pellidor’s placid face looked as if it were about to crack. Finally, Peter recognized the man from many years before. Pellidor was one of the disguised operatives who had kidnapped him—young Raymond Aguerra—from the site of his burning dwelling complex. Anger flared behind Peter’s artificially blue eyes, but he kept it in check.
Mr. Pellidor said in a clipped voice meant only for him, “You are way out of bounds, Peter.”
“How can I be?” Peter raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Ask any person here—am I not the King?”
112
BASIL WENCESLAS
The Chairman was not pleased with Peter. Not at all.
The King’s brash and stupid actions had forced Basil to cut short his emergency briefings and rush back from the EDF moonbase. He hoped it wasn’t too late to impose proper damage control.
Peter had made a total mess of things, and it wasn’t the first time.
“Something must be done, Pellidor.” The Chairman fumed and studied the recent reports as he paced his offices in Hansa HQ. “Perhaps something drastic.”
Basil had always known the intelligent young King was not an easily manipulated fool like Frederick—and that unfortunately caused problems. Peter had known full well what he was doing, and he couldn’t possibly be unaware of the consequences.
The question remained whether Peter would learn a necessary lesson from his mistakes…or whether some other action would need to be taken.
“I gave him explicit orders to stay away from the compy factories. I warned him in no uncertain terms! Now, the King’s meddling with the new production lines has set us back more than he could imagine.” Basil sipped his cardamom coffee,