Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [247]
Raymond plodded toward the raised dais and the waiting throne. Around the impressive chair stood a group of the Hansa's most important people—the governors of the ten most powerful colony worlds, and the robed and dominant Archfather of Unison, Spokesman of All Faiths. His voluminous purple cape and robes bore diamond stitchery, a constellation of designs incorporating the symbols of all the diverse religions from Earth's history—crosses, circles, crescents, trees, meshed into a tangled maze that no longer meant anything at all. The Archfather was an empty and symbolic religious figurehead...with a role similar to the one Raymond would fill.
As the young man ascended the first step, the first of the colony governors held the revered crown and passed it to the next man, who handed it to a governor one step up, and so on, from hand to hand. Each of the important spokesmen touched the crown and passed it upward, showing symbolically that King Peter's reign derived from the support of all factions, businesses, and creeds. Finally, the blank-faced Archfather smiled at Raymond, his eyes glittering, and intoned congratulations and blessings in eight different languages, ending with Trade Standard.
Raymond stared straight ahead, fighting the odd displacement and numbness. The Archfather reached forward, bowing, then completed the ceremony. With the crown finally settled on his blond head, Raymond didn't feel its weight at all. Not yet.
He had rehearsed his acceptance speech so many times he didn't even remember giving it. He flowed with the event, and the coronation went perfectly, with no mention of the hydrogue attack at Jupiter. That news would break soon enough. Such a disaster should not mar the day that a Prince became King.
When he returned to Chairman Wenceslas for a brief respite before he was expected to attend further celebrations and banquets, Raymond felt the drug's effects wearing off. At last, he could think for himself again.
By now the Chairman had digested the news of the humiliating EDF defeat. He had passed beyond disbelief and had begun to plan the best response and the most appropriate spin on the situation. Raymond chose not to ask for his reaction just yet. As King Peter, he would no doubt become the mouthpiece for the Hansa's outrage.
Basil came up to him, nodding in satisfaction. "At least one thing went well today," he said. "King Peter, you have the potential to be a good ruler. We'll wait a few years..." He smiled at Peter, as if he thought he was delivering good news. "And then we will find you an appropriate queen."
113 MARGARET COLICOS
In the silent base camp, backing away from the uprooted worldforest grove and leaving the body of Arcas inside the dim tent, Margaret and Louis crept toward their own temporary hut.
Louis was stunned, his skin pale and grayish. Margaret's vision contracted into a narrow point as she hurried him along. She simply had to move. She needed to discover information—and see how bad their situation might be, though she was afraid she didn't want to know.
Inside their tent, all of her records were torn apart, the tables and study screens overturned and crushed. Computers and datawafers had been melted into slag. Their standard communications transmitter had been smashed, leaving nothing but ruined metal casing, torn-apart wires, destroyed pulse nodes. A standard electromagnetic signal would have taken months to travel at the speed of light before it could be intercepted by the nearest Hansa colony or spacecraft. Much too long for a rescue. Even so, their enemy was taking no chance that Margaret and Louis would call for help.
"But...why? What is this for?" Louis stared up at her. "Who could have done this to us?"
Margaret's expression turned hard. He honestly hadn't figured it out. "Not much question about that, Louis." She saw that her translations of the Klikiss hieroglyphics, all of their new discoveries, had been systematically obliterated, even the handwritten notes. She took her husband's arm, felt him shaking,