Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [245]
When they limped back to Earth, Admiral Stromo and the survivors of his escort fleet would have no joyous homecoming. The hydrogues had proved far more devastating than even the most drastic predictions.
The Jupiter debacle had crushed all hope for a swift and gratifying resolution to this war.
112 KING PETER
On the day of his coronation, Raymond found all the colors too bright, the sounds too sharp. Yet his feelings—from elation to rebelliousness—were dulled and distant.
He realized that Basil Wenceslas must have drugged him.
The puppet Prince felt oddly cooperative as teams of experts dressed him, wrapped his shoulders in flowing velvet robes, draped medallions on heavy chains around his neck. Every garment was trimmed with golden lace, studded with luminous flatgems. His blond hair was carefully styled, his skin made up to cover the slightest blemish or freckle. From the outset of his reign, King Peter must appear perfect.
Beneath the fuzzy warmth of the drugs, Raymond felt a swell of helpless anger, while a detached and logical portion of his mind considered the consequences. Some chemical had probably been slipped into his breakfast. Chairman Wenceslas naturally wanted to have a tame and contented Prince walk down the carpeted aisle and accept his glorious crown from the Archfather of Unison. Any sign of intransigence would ruin the entire effect.
Did the Hansa suspect his grave reservations already? Did Basil know that young Raymond had discovered his crimes and lies?
If the Hansa was willing to drug and manipulate him, even when he had given them no overt reason to distrust him, it did not bode well for his future as King. But he had already learned how evil these men were, the day he'd discovered the truth behind the deaths of his family. The Hansa would do anything to ensure their success.
Outside the Whisper Palace, a spectacular celebration had been under way for hours. Extra torches had been lit on all the cupolas and domes, on the pillars and lampposts around the Palace District. Every hour, colorful fireworks shot into the air, exploding in glittering plumes. Commemorative coins, specially minted for the occasion, were distributed to anyone in the crowd who had made the pilgrimage to see the coronation of their new King.
For an entire day OX, now completely repaired and polished, had drilled Raymond upon the protocol and practices of the ceremony. The Teacher compy rehearsed the speech with his young ward; he explained the honors and medals Raymond must bestow as part of the grand jubilee.
Though he had grown close to the old robot and discussed many intellectual and philosophical matters with him, Raymond had never admitted his discoveries about the Hansa plot. He would hold that secret deep within his heart and use the information when the time was right, as he saw fit.
After Raymond was fully dressed and prepared—and comfortably, unwillingly numb—OX escorted him like a little tin soldier, taking slow, careful steps to the presentation stage. Raymond suspected that OX had clear orders to be his guard and keeper, not just a friend.
Trying to focus through the drug haze, Raymond looked down the long river of crimson carpet that flowed across the courtyard, through the arched doorway, and up into the pristine Throne Hall.
Dressed in an expensive formal business suit, but without gaudy trappings, since he would appear on no media screens, Chairman Wenceslas met Raymond in the alcove from which he would begin his sedate procession toward the throne.
"This ceremony must go off without a hitch, Peter," he said with a paternal smile that was cheapened by Raymond's knowledge of how Basil had lied to him. "We must make the coronation spectacular enough to ignite a greater fire of patriotic fervor. Already, our citizens are in an uproar against the hydrogues. We must keep it that way."
"I'll do my best, Chairman Wenceslas," Raymond said. His voice was smooth and calm. Thanks to the dulling effect of the drugs, he could not infuse the words