The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [107]
The high-energy beam was aimed down at the Palace District. Sirix had already calculated how much damage such a strike could cause — its maximum output was enough to obliterate the whole of the Whisper Palace and the Hansa Headquarters. He was curious to learn what the Chairman intended to do with it.
He had long suspected that Basil Wenceslas was not a completely rational man.
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75
Former Chairman Maureen Fitzpatrick
Maureen knew how to work the system, how to doctor paperwork, and how to slip under the radar of pencil pushers and lackluster bureaucrats. Old Jonas was a master at inputting vague and uninteresting answers on the clearance forms. Nobody would guess the real reason she was leaving Earth.
Though she had retired voluntarily ages ago, the former Chairman maintained a thriving career as a consultant and adviser. She sat on the boards of numerous companies, think tanks, and foundations; every week she appeared at charity functions, commencement ceremonies, and steering-committee gatherings. She had more consulting work than she could possibly finish. But life was all about choices, and Maureen Fitzpatrick had to put her considerable skills to their most advantageous use. She had made her decision.
In the months following Patrick’s stint as a prisoner of war, she had worried about her poor grandson, sure that he’d been brainwashed by the Roamers. But now, much to her chagrin, Maureen realized that the young man had been right after all. Chairman Wenceslas was the threat, not the Roamers or the Confederation.
Before her departure, she spent days making preparations, leaving a few little surprises for Patrick in case the deal went south. She had learned never to underestimate the likelihood of a worst-case scenario, or the amazing number of ways that things could get screwed up.
Maureen wandered through her mansion, staring at all the things she knew and loved. She’d never had much patience for insipid nostalgia, yet here she was acting in a way that would have sparked her scorn if she’d observed it in anyone else. At first she wanted to crate art objects and mementos to take with her, but Maureen quickly realized that unless she commissioned a whole cargo hauler, she could never take everything she wanted. In the end, frustrated, she made a command decision and left everything behind. As part of her compensation package for services rendered, she might even bill King Peter for all she had sacrificed.
Besides, if she straightened out the mess, she’d be back soon anyway.
With no particular fanfare, her small ship flew away from Earth’s security zone and past the EDF patrol ships around the Moon. Her ship had a registration number, but no name. It amused her that her grandson had christened the stolen vessel the Gypsy; despite his upbringing, the boy had a soft heart and a soft head. Maureen had always considered the practice of naming a ship — as if it were some kind of a pet — frivolous.
Nevertheless, Patrick had surprised her. He had certainly begun to shine.
Ostensibly, the private yacht’s flight plan said that she was going to meet with an industrial contractor; the asteroid belt industries needed a firm management hand. Her entourage consisted of twenty people. Jonas had served at her side since her days as a deputy division head overseeing nothing larger than a continent; Maureen had kept him around forever because it was so difficult to find competent and reliable employees. Her pilot was also loyal, as were the other assistants in this hand-picked group. If she had to take on a role equivalent to Hansa Chairman, Maureen needed her best people with her.
Everyone aboard knew where they were really going and what they were giving up. She had been surprised at how easily they all agreed to leave — a clear barometer of just how bad things were on Earth. Since she led a privileged life, Maureen had little exposure to most of the Chairman’s ruthless crackdowns; her companions, though, had seen