The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [124]
After the “bolt of heavenly fire” had annihilated the outspoken Arch-father, the people flocked to their supposed savior, King Rory. Never before had Cain seen such an explosion of religious fervor. The most gullible people were also the most vociferous, and the Chairman encouraged the newsnets to carry only coverage that proclaimed the Archfather’s death to be a dark miracle, an unmistakable sign from God, a blow from Heaven.
Though many were plainly skeptical, curious investigators could find no sign of what the true cause of the lightning had been. Cain suspected that Chairman Wenceslas had deleted all records of whatever he had used. Freedom’s Sword had proposed a handful of explanations, which the newsnets consistently mocked as “ridiculous conspiracy theories.”
The murder of the Archfather was just one more terrible thing. There could be no saving Chairman Basil Wenceslas.
Now on a bright morning, Basil rode with Sarein and Deputy Cain in his protected ground vehicle. The driver pulled up at the small parade field in front of the retooled compy factory, where a small receiving stand had been set up outside the wide warehouse doors.
Modular warehouse annexes and squarish industrial structures were part of the manufacturing facility. This particular factory had been put online as a secondary complex to pick up the slack in assembling Soldier compies, but after the compy revolt it had become the primary site.
McCammon had already gone ahead to arrange for security during the Chairman’s speech, although King Rory wouldn’t be there. Sarein sat close to the Chairman in the vehicle, obviously uncomfortable, while Cain remained apart, saying little, keeping a poker face.
A small crowd of Basil’s most conservative supporters had gathered at the edges of the parade ground; several had brought their own banners. Industrialists took their places on the flat seats of the VIP bleachers, watching the royal guards line up to one side of the compact group of stands.
Captain McCammon’s guards surrounded the speaking area. Colonel Andez and her dark-uniformed cleanup crew stood closer to the podium, as if symbolically protecting Chairman Wenceslas even against the royal guard. Not a good sign, Cain thought.
When the people noticed the Chairman’s vehicle, a dull cheer went up. Cain did not detect the enthusiasm he had expected. Perhaps even these people were uneasy about Basil’s Faustian deal with the black robots.
“You two wait here,” Basil said. “I’ll make the announcement, and we can get back to work.” He slipped away from the ground vehicle and headed toward the podium without a backward glance at them.
Cain allowed no sign of his relief to show; he’d been afraid Basil would ask them to accompany him. As he and Sarein emerged from the vehicle, she pointedly did not glance at him. Knowing what was to come, she seemed to be counting the seconds. He certainly was.
They watched with distaste as three brand-new black robots marched out of the factory doorway to be presented as a symbol of Hansa industrial acumen. The Chairman stepped up to the podium and faced the spectators. With abrupt and businesslike movements, he placed himself at the center of the podium exactly on his mark, exactly where Cain knew he would be.
“It is the measure of a great leader to put misunderstandings behind him. It is human to admit a mistake.” Basil’s words were flat and clipped, without the passion he would have demanded of either the Archfather or King Rory. “Despite our past differences, we and the black robots can be far stronger together. It may be the only way we can survive against the dangers abroad in the Spiral Arm.” He smiled. “The robots will restore our Earth Defense Forces, and in return we will replenish their numbers so that they can fight against their destructive Klikiss creators. Together, we become powerful, a force for our enemies to reckon with.”
Basil surprised