A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [8]
Basil’s studiously blasé expression was clearly meant to remind Peter that as Chairman of the Terran Hanseatic League, he had dealt with crises far worse than a petulant young King. “Your presence is merely a formality, Peter. We don’t really require you in the meeting at all.”
By now, Peter knew a bluff when he saw one. “If you think the media won’t notice my absence at an emergency session, then I’ll go swim with my dolphins instead.” He understood his tenuous importance and pushed, just a little, whenever he could. Peter rarely misjudged Basil’s limits, though. He approached each small battle with finesse and subtlety. And he knew when to stop.
In the end, Basil pretended that it didn’t matter. His primary advisers—Basil’s handpicked but diverse inner circle of representatives, military experts, and Hansa officials—gathered behind closed doors around a chandelier-lit table as a light luncheon was served. Silent servants hurried to place bouquets on the table, damask napkins, silverware; fountains trickled in three alcoves.
Peter seated himself in an ornate chair at the head of the table. Knowing his role, however, the young King listened in respectful silence while the Chairman went through the agenda items.
Basil’s iron gray hair was impeccably trimmed and combed. His perfect suit was expensive, yet comfortable, and he moved with a lean grace that belied his seventy-three years. So far today, he’d eaten sparingly, drinking only ice water and cardamom coffee.
“I require an accurate assessment of the state of our Hansa colonies.” He swept his gaze around his advisers, admirals, and colony envoys. “In the five years since the hydrogues killed King Frederick and issued their ultimatum against skymining, we’ve had considerable time to draw conclusions and make realistic projections.” He looked first to the commander of his Earth Defense Forces. Since he was Chairman of the Hansa, Basil was also the de facto leader of the EDF. “General Lanyan, what is your overall evaluation?”
The General waved aside the numbers and statistics that an aide called up for him on a document pad. “Easy enough, Mr. Chairman: We’re in deep trouble, though the EDF has rigorously rationed ekti since the beginning of the crisis. Without those highly unpopular measures—”
Peter interrupted him. “Riots have caused as much damage as the shortages, especially on new settlements. We’ve already had to declare martial law on four colonies. People are hurting and hungry. They think I’ve abandoned them.” He looked at the sliced meats and colorful fruit on his plate and decided he had no appetite, knowing what others were suffering.
Lanyan stopped in midsentence, looked at the King without responding, then returned his attention to Basil. “As I was saying, Mr. Chairman, austerity measures have allowed us to maintain most vital services. However, our stockpiles are dwindling.”
Tyra Running Horse, one of the planetary envoys, pushed her plate aside. Peter tried to remember which colony she represented. Was it Rhejak? “Hydrogen is the most common element in the universe. Why don’t we just get it somewhere else?”
“Concentrated hydrogen is not as accessible elsewhere,” said one of the admirals. “Gas giants are the best reservoirs.”
“The Roamers continue to supply some ekti through their high-risk harvesting techniques,” said the Relleker envoy, trying to sound optimistic. With his pale skin and patrician features, he looked just like one of the faux-classical statues against the wall of the small banquet room. “Let them keep taking the gambles.”
“And there is simply no other fuel alternative for the faster-than-light stardrive. We’ve tried everything,” said yet another envoy. “We’re stuck with what the Roamers provide.”
Scowling, Lanyan shook his head. “Current Roamer deliveries don’t match even our bare-bones military requirements, not to mention public and civilian needs. We may be forced