Of Fire and Night - Kevin J. Anderson [40]
Patrick walked along carrying a plate of untouched shrimp and exotic fruits, smiling at people he didn't know, accepting their parroted good wishes. When one potbellied businessman with a blond mustache and dark hair deprecated the "filthy Roacher clans," Patrick coolly cut him off. "Those people saved our lives, sir. The EDF didn't even try to rescue survivors at Osquivel, but the Roamers took us in and nursed us back to health."
"They held you prisoner," the man spluttered.
"Better than holding a funeral. They will always have my gratitude."
Seeing Kiro Yamane beside a gorgeously dressed Shelia Andez, Patrick excused himself to talk to his fellow former POWs. "Great food," Shelia said. "Did you eat like this all the time when you were a kid?"
He looked at his hors d'oeuvres. "No. Sometimes they served a full meal."
"And you gave it all up for EDF rations." She snorted. "I always thought you were the dim one, Fitzpatrick."
"And you've been quite popular on the newsnets. I had to get a tissue and dry my tears after hearing of your ‘great suffering' under the Roamers. Were they torturing you when the rest of us weren't looking? Have you checked on what the EDF has done to their facilities? To Rendezvous? Seems to me they treated us pretty well, considering."
"You're sounding like some sort of bleeding-heart moron." She smirked. "You just had the hots for that Roamer brunette."
Ignoring the comment, he turned to the distinguished compy specialist. "Kiro, you must have a lot to report after what went wrong with the Soldier compies in the Roamer shipyards."
"Yes, that little diversion became much more spectacular than I planned. If the EDF and your grandmother hadn't arrived when they did, the whole shipyard facility would have been destroyed."
"It was destroyed, Kiro. We happened to get out alive, but we don't even know the death toll among the Roamers. Doesn't it bother you that you set off something that caused so much damage?"
"We had to get away, Fitzpatrick," Shelia broke in, her forehead furrowing. "They didn't give us any other choice. Look what happened to Bill Stanna. They killed him!"
"Bill wasn't exactly the brightest star in the cluster. Roamers didn't kill him. He died because he didn't make a few simple plans." She made a disgusted noise, but he continued. "Somebody's got to speak up and balance your sensational stories, Shelia." He smiled at her surprised expression. "I've decided to start giving prominent public speeches to describe my true experiences among the Roamers. Much of the continuing conflict is being caused by intentional misrepresentations of the facts." He looked at Yamane. "Kiro, I'd like to have you give your perspective, too. I can book you along with me."
Yamane looked away. "I'm sorry, Patrick. I've been asked to document what I learned about the Soldier compies so it can be used to improve them. That has to take priority."
Shelia started laughing. "And if you want me to sing the praises of your Roamer girlfriend, you've got to be out of your mind!"
He felt his face burning, though he'd known this wouldn't be simple. "I'll do it myself, then. My parents are both ambassadors, my grandmother's a former Chairman--"
Maureen was abruptly there. "Don't count on any of that to give you a soapbox for painting pretty pictures of the Hansa's enemies. Come, Patrick, we have to mingle." The old Battleaxe deftly broke him away from his companions, then whispered harshly in his ear, "You clearly need some intensive counseling. You're maladjusted and oppositional."
"I'm thinking for myself, Grandmother. Is that such a bad thing?"
"Yes--when you don't think correctly. Have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome? You're exhibiting classic signs. You