Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [101]
He winced as a doctor prodded him with another needle. Pellidor waited to see whether the Chairman would snap at the medical attendant or if he would pretend to be invulnerable to pain.
Basil concentrated on his work, mulling over a million problems and many more possible solutions. Thinking of the green priest aboard the skymine only reminded him of how many others had left Hansa service and returned to their damaged world. Perhaps Basil had made an error in not sending the EDF to assist in the forest reconstruction. The Roamers had, and now the Therons felt indebted to the clans. He hated a missed opportunity.
Basil heaved a sigh. “Roamers and Therons both have such a narrow perspective. The entire Spiral Arm has been in a state of emergency for more than seven years, and it’s increasingly difficult for me to run the Hansa without effective communication. Ah, maybe Sarein will come through for us.”
Unbidden, an image of lovely, intelligent, and ambitious Sarein came to him. Perhaps it was the drugs and the treatment, but Basil felt a pang of longing for her. He had sent her to Theroc with instructions to work her way into governmental decisions, proposing herself as the next Mother. Even in the back of his mind, he didn’t want to admit how much he missed her sweet young body and—more erotic still—the electric heat of her ruthless determination. He had never realized how much energy her very presence gave him.
Basil tried to sit up, but the medical attendants surrounded him like a group of busy hens. “You still have at least an hour to go, Mr. Chairman. We will lose all progress if we stop now.”
He clenched his jaw and lay back, looking up at the expediter as he felt—but tried hard not to show—the weight of the universe on his shoulders. “I used to revel in the challenges, Mr. Pellidor. Roamers, hydrogues, green priests, Klikiss worlds, ekti, even King Peter. I swear I will not let them defeat me now.”
Chapter 47—KING PETER
When the first shipload of unexpected refugees arrived from Crenna, Hansa protocol operations rushed to prepare a showy reception for them. Davlin Lotze, piloting a ship he’d commandeered from Relleker, communicated directly with Basil Wenceslas over private channels. In response, the Chairman called for King Peter to put on his colorful fall robes for an impromptu welcome as soon as the ship landed. “Showing an unexpected compassionate side, Basil? Or is there something else I need to know?”
“I tell you everything you need to know. And nothing more.” Basil paced outside the door of the royal quarters as attendants surrounded Queen Estarra and dressed her in a fine gown spattered with jewels and pearls. “But the news greatly disturbs me. Hydrogues and faeros actively destroying suns, obliterating habitable planets like Crenna. Lotze suspects there’ll be more to come. We’ve been lucky so far.”
“I doubt the Crenna refugees consider themselves very lucky.”
“They’re lucky to be alive,” Basil said. “Since these people were saved from certain death, we can put a positive spin on this.”
With crews working overtime, a ribbon-decked reviewing stand was erected and pushed into place by the time Lotze’s vessel landed in the Palace District. There hadn’t been time to arrange for a formal crowd, but the court protocol ministers and ever-present media representatives rushed to their places to watch the King and Queen welcome these brave escapees from a hydrogue-destroyed star system.
As usual, a royal honor guard marched briskly in front of them, leading the way. Breaking from his usual reticence, Basil accompanied them, along with Eldred Cain and four other Hansa officials. Why not bring