Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [100]
Sarein’s breathing grew faster, harder. Beneto sensed that she was near tears. “But...but look at what the hydrogues did to Theroc. And those faeros creatures! Our people need protection.”
“The hydrogues will return, and you can do nothing about it. But you can help us spread the treelings from ship to ship and world to world, starting with the Hansa colonies.” Beneto showed his perfectly carved wooden teeth in a smile. “Don’t worry, Sarein. A call went out beyond the Spiral Arm more than a year ago, when the hydrogues obliterated the first worldtree grove on Corvus Landing. Even before the hydrogues found Theroc, our reinforcements were under way, voyaging at top speed across impossible distances.”
He turned his head toward her. “Next time, if we can hold off the enemy for long enough, the forest will no longer fight alone. Allies are on their way.”
Chapter 46—BASIL WENCESLAS
The smell of medicines and the hum of diagnostic machinery always made the Chairman uneasy. He hated these regular rejuvenation treatments, but he knew the necessity of free-radical-expunging geriatric baths and fine-toxin filtering from his tissues and bloodstream. Very few people could afford such extraordinary measures to retain their youthful vitality, but Basil was a man with more responsibilities and pressures than anyone else in the Spiral Arm. It was imperative that he maintain his stamina.
Meticulous Hansa doctors watched him diligently for any deviation from normal health, aggressively dealing with the slightest anomaly. He simply could not afford to waste away. Accepting graceful retirement like Maureen Fitzpatrick had never been—and never would be—an option. He wasn’t ready to retire...and certainly no one was ready to replace him.
His heir apparent, Eldred Cain, had never disappointed him, but neither had he ever surprised Basil. Yes, Cain understood the Hansa Charter and the law; he was intimately familiar with the workings of politics and the Earth Defense Forces; he grasped everything that was necessary for running the Hanseatic League. But would it be sufficient? Was the quiet and pallid deputy shrewd enough and determined enough to become the next Chairman?
As the doctors tended Basil, injecting him with vitamins and wrapping his skin with fixative films and moisturizers, he looked up to see his expediter Franz Pellidor enter the room, bypassing the guards without so much as a word. Pellidor had neatly trimmed short blond hair, a square jaw, and a nose too perfect to be anything but the result of cosmetic modification. Broad-shouldered and muscular, he usually chose suits that were slightly undersized to enhance his imposing appearance.
“I know these procedures are necessary, but I resent the waste of hours of my time here,” Basil said to him. “I wish these doctors would consider how much my time is worth. I have so many more important things to do.”
The technicians looked at him with uncertain expressions, but did not respond. Pellidor answered calmly, “Even your time is probably not worth as much as these treatments cost, Mr. Chairman.”
“I have an inflated sense of my own importance?”
“Mr. Chairman, you are more than worth your weight in ekti.” Pellidor stopped where Basil lay prone on the table. “And speaking of ekti, I have the report you requested. Our modular skymine at Qronha 3 continues to produce acceptable amounts of stardrive fuel, in spite of the recent territorial unpleasantness with the Ildirans. Sullivan Gold assures us that their work proceeds without interference. Both groups are staying out of each other’s way.”
“After our recent visit to Mage-Imperator Jora’h, I’m not convinced the Ildirans have much to offer us, at the moment.” Though the Ildiran leader had said nothing, the Chairman had quickly picked up hints that the ancient empire was having internal problems. “Even so, we have to keep them as allies. The Hansa certainly can’t afford a conflict on yet another front.”
Lying back on his medical table, Basil scanned Pellidor’s report, noting