A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [233]
Estarra noted a team of workers stringing ribbons and pennants on the yacht. Painters touched up the exterior hull of the lead boat. Some of the artisans wore watertight suits and floated in the capillary canal, polishing every fitting down to the waterline.
“It’ll be quite a spectacle,” she said.
“Indeed, indeed,” the protocol minister answered. “This is King Peter’s favorite yacht, you know.” Peter had already told her he’d never actually set foot aboard the boat.
“Bread and circuses,” the Chairman had said when he had sternly informed them of the plans two days ago. “Distract the people from our real problems.”
“I’d rather solve the real problems,” Peter said, crossing his arms over his chest. The tension was thick in the air.
“Be my guest,” the Chairman snapped, “but in the meantime, you and your lovely Queen will take a boat ride, a honeymoon cruise.”
“Whatever you say, Basil.” Peter had not, however, sounded contrite. Estarra had been unable to read his face, but she knew he resented being forced to perform…as when he had issued the strict population-restriction decree.
Now, as she watched, an engine worker in overalls emerged alone from the yacht’s lower decks. His coveralls were stained, and he carried a tool kit at his side. The man had blond hair and a placid expression; he moved with a smooth grace and an unusual intensity. After leaving the boat’s engine room, he quickly crossed the gangplank and went purposefully toward one of the workrooms.
There was nothing particularly unusual about him, and it took Estarra a moment to recognize the blond-haired man she had seen on the newsclips of Peter’s impetuous visit to the compy-production facility. Special Liaison to the Chairman. One of Basil’s men. She remembered him especially because he had challenged Peter’s authority.
He was certainly not an engineer. Her dark eyes narrowed. Such a man had no business whatsoever aboard the royal yacht, especially not in the engine room…especially not dressed as a common worker.
A thrill of fear scraped down her spine. Sarein had warned her to be very careful…and, according to Peter’s story, the Chairman already had plenty of blood on his hands. What had Peter said to her on their wedding night? “Rule one: Never trust Basil.”
Estarra watched the impostor out of the corner of her eye as he turned in his tool kit and then vanished into a locker room. Beside her, the protocol minister droned on, smiling, and Estarra pretended to listen to him. She took great care to show no sign of recognizing the quiet henchman, not wanting to raise suspicions. She thanked the guards, the attendants, and the protocol minister and took her leave of the maintenance docks.
She had to find Peter.
121
JESS TAMBLYN
Racing back to Rendezvous, hoping to catch Cesca in time, Jess kept a small vial of wental water next to him, like a talisman. After witnessing the water entity reborn on the unnamed ocean world, he felt a glow of success, proud of what he had done.
The larger container remained in the ship’s storage bay, a reservoir that he could distribute to other Roamers he intended to recruit. They could scatter samples of the living water across other ocean planets, and the wentals would soon grow numerous enough to combat the hydrogues.
Jess studied his navigation charts and rechecked his course. Within a day, he would be back at the asteroid cluster of Rendezvous. His heart pounded with anticipation, and he thought of a thousand ways to express everything he needed to tell Cesca.
When he saw her beautiful face, when he stood before her and opened his heart finally and completely, he would know what to say. He had to admit what a stupid mistake he had made with her, because he had convinced himself of the wrong priorities. A selfless and honorable solution was not always the only solution.