A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [24]
Though her words were meant to be conciliatory, Willis’s tone was stern. “Now, we don’t want any hard feelings, but the law is the law. The King is willing to forgive you, so long as you comply immediately. Let’s not make a mess of things.”
After she ended her message, a fuzzy projection appeared, a hologram whose poor resolution demonstrated the outdated nature of the Yrekan comm systems. The Grand Governor was a tall, thin woman of clear Indian descent. She had dusky brown skin, almost black eyes, and thick blue-black hair that hung in long tresses to her waist. She had a curved nose and full lips turned downward in a frown.
“Admiral Willis, I am afraid we cannot comply. Our own survival dictates my decision. I am appalled that the EDF would threaten a loyal Hansa colony. Yreka has already sacrificed much in this war effort. We have given all we can, and we require ekti supplies for our survival.”
The Grand Governor motioned with her hand, and the image was filled with heart-wrenching projections of skeletal children, stubbly fields of crops drooping due to lack of fertilizer or insufficient protection from native blights. “If we surrender those fuel reserves to you, our people will starve, our colony will wither, and Yreka will become a ghost planet within a decade.”
Tasia quickly understood the desperate gamble that the Yrekan leader was taking. While Admiral Willis had spoken on a direct channel to the planet’s administration center, keeping the talk relatively private, Grand Governor Sarhi had intentionally sent her message on the broadest band so that all the soldiers in the Eddie battle group could hear her plea.
“Why not take the air we breathe? Or drain the fresh water from our streams? Or block the sunlight that makes our crops grow? We have paid dearly for this ekti, and we cannot afford to lose it.”
“Now, that’s all very melodramatic—” Admiral Willis began.
“Please send the King our regrets. Thank you.” Without waiting for the Admiral to respond, the Grand Governor gave a slight formal bow, then signed off, to ensure that she got the last word.
The crew members on Tasia’s bridge were astonished at the foolish response. Some even snickered in complete disbelief. She said firmly, “There’s nothing funny going on here.”
The Grid 7 battlefleet waited a long moment in silence, anticipating what Admiral Willis would command. When she did speak to the commanders, Willis’s voice was calm, but disappointed. “This planet is currently under interdiction. No ships go in or out. No supplies, no messages, for as long as it takes.”
Tasia leaned back, relieved at least that the Admiral hadn’t ordered an immediate assault. She said to her crew, “Well, I hope none of you has plans for the weekend.”
10
KING PETER
The King finished the last motions of dressing preparatory to emerging from his chambers. For the morning, servants had laid out a colorful, ornate, and thoroughly uncomfortable outfit (no doubt designed and selected by a committee). But he had ignored it, choosing his own attire and dismissing all the lackeys who wanted to help him with his buttons and collar. Raymond Aguerra’s mother had certainly taught him how to dress himself.
As he dressed, he spoke casually to his Teacher compy. “Basil doesn’t want a leader.” After listening to OX for years about the nuances of power and rhetoric, King Peter saw the old robot as more than a database or a set of historical files. He tugged at a cuff. “He wants an actor.”
Early on, Peter had decided to do his best to become a real King. Playfully at first, he’d begun to institute small changes, significant only in that they demonstrated his independence. Instead of the gaudy jewelry and draping robes old Frederick had worn, Peter altered his wardrobe to a crisp and serviceable uniform. Gray, blue, and black. The Chairman had approved,