Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [85]
With time running out, the Grand Governor took the two men by the arm. “Now the only thing that’s obvious is you two. Outfits like yours are signal flares. Let’s change you into some normal clothes.” The edges of her mouth quirked upward. “I’m sure I can find a dirty jumpsuit that doesn’t fit you very well.”
“I’d normally prefer something clean instead—and slimmer,” Denn said. “But my desire to fit in with the rest of you outweighs my fashion sense any day of the week.”
When the EDF transport finally landed, Denn and Caleb watched anxiously from the crowds of scowling and intimidated-looking Yrekans. Denn’s stomach was queasy. The Persistence was there for a sharp-eyed Eddy to see, and any Yrekan colonist wanting to earn favor with the Admiral could easily turn in the two Roamers.
Jowly Stromo emerged from the shuttle, flanked by an honor guard in impressive uniforms with polished shoes and precisely combed hair. The gleam of medals reflected like faceted jewels on his left breast. Denn pegged him as a man intent on ceremony, someone who would back away from a messy conflict just to avoid getting his uniform stained.
The Grand Governor faced Stromo squarely, sweaty and a bit rumpled from the frantic preparations. “How may we help you, Admiral? Have you brought us a shipment of much-needed supplies and materials from the Hansa?” She gave him a faint, insincere smile.
Stromo wore a flustered expression. “I’m on my way back to Earth after performing a lengthy and successful operation against outlaw Roamer clans. Since I was passing by the Yreka system, I decided to verify that you continue to follow the requirements of your allegiance to the Terran Hanseatic League.”
“We have our own copy of the Hansa Charter, Admiral. We can read it anytime we like, in case we need to refresh our memories.”
“Maybe you need an EDF battle group to come here and remind you.” Stromo drew a deep breath, puffing his chest.
“When the EDF laid siege to Yreka, you made your point eminently clear.” She turned her gaze toward the ground, as if she was cowed. “We’ve learned our lesson.”
“Glad to hear that.” He smiled, getting down to business. “I’d like to rotate my crew down to Yreka in shifts for brief periods of R&R. They need to stretch their legs, get a little sun. Personally, I’d look forward to a decent meal for a change.” His tone demonstrated that it wasn’t a question.
“So long as you and your crew bring your own food and prepare it for yourselves,” the Grand Governor said, just as firmly. “Because you’ve stripped us of our stardrive fuel, we have no ability to exchange goods with other colonies. We are barely self-sufficient.”
This angered Stromo, but the Grand Governor fixed him with an unwavering gaze. Finally he drew a deep breath. “My soldiers can bring their own rations. Bland, tedious rations...”
“We may be willing to make a few exchanges, Admiral. Everyone gets tired of eating the same thing all the time.”
“I’ll send a list down, and a request for some of my personal favorites.”
“We’ll see what we have, Admiral. Beyond that, I can make no promises.”
For three days, a nervous Denn and Caleb had no choice but to stay on Yreka while the EDF battle group remained. They kept a low profile, helping with colony tasks that seemed just like working in a Roamer settlement, though each time Denn saw the strutting Eddies acting as if they owned the planet, he felt his blood begin to boil. Caleb’s sour expression took on the intensity of a thousand lemons, until Denn chided him to hide his annoyance. “If you give them an excuse to start looking, they’ll turn over rocks until they find us.”
But Stromo didn’t seem intent on finding anything; he was just here flexing his muscles, intimidating an already squashed colony. It apparently didn’t occur to him that the Yrekans weren’t entirely browbeaten by the military presence.
Every hour, Denn wondered if one of the colonists might whisper into a soldier’s ear, but the Yrekans held just as much of a grudge against the EDF as the Roamers