The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [156]
“Good thing the human race doesn’t have all its eggs in one basket anymore,” Estarra said, thinking like a true Theron. “The Confederation will survive.”
But Peter had been born and raised on Earth. “I might despise Basil Wenceslas, but I will not abandon the rest of Earth’s population when they need us so much.”
Not everyone was happy with the idea of offering help, particularly people from orphaned Hansa colonies or Roamer traders wronged by EDF bandits. But Peter was adamant, and Queen Estarra supported him. Green priests in attendance sent the King’s message to their counterparts across the Spiral Arm.
“It doesn’t matter that the Hansa turned its back on Theroc and all of its colonies. It doesn’t matter that the misguided EDF struck Roamer facilities. I will not stoop to such pettiness in the face of such tragedy.” He indicated the tangle of computed orbits on the screens. “Look at the projections!”
“No matter what path others take, we in the Confederation must do what is right,” Estarra added.
Once convinced, the Roamers tackled the problem with all the enthusiasm and ingenuity Peter expected. He put out a call for anyone experienced in space construction, asteroid-field analysis, and complex multibody orbital projections.
Peter had already summoned Admiral Willis’s Jupiter and all ten of her Mantas. He intended to lead the procession himself. Understandably cautious after General Lanyan had turned against her during the battle on Pym, Willis warned, “I would approach this mission of mercy with extreme caution, sire.”
“We’ll be cautious, but we will also show the people of Earth who we really are. Basil has painted us as monsters and villains for too long. When we take the high road, our actions will speak louder than his words.”
Even so, Peter had no intention of being anywhere near Basil Wenceslas without a lot of firepower at his side. He had already sent the first wave of Roamer engineers to Earth to offer their services, and he knew that no reasonable person would turn down the help.
No reasonable person.
* * *
108
Anton Colicos
Knowing it was only a matter of time before Vao’sh succumbed to his utter isolation, Anton frantically tried to save him, praying that with his warmth and comfort he could help Vao’sh to hold on for just a little while longer. The old rememberer needed him, and Anton did not want to leave his side, wishing he could spend all day just clutching his hand, willing Vao’sh to be strong.
But he had to do something to help. He had to try everything. Everything! Anton personally called in favors, made calls, grabbed lapels and begged for assistance. He made lists of possibilities, then doggedly pursued every alternative, crossing off each failure, jotting down any new idea.
He barged into the office of the Dean of the Department of Ildiran Studies, but the man immediately washed his hands of the matter, ducking from a groundswell of anti-Ildiran sentiment since the Solar Navy had led the faeros to the Moon (never mind that the Mage-Imperator and a whole Ildiran crew were being held hostage there). Next, Anton went to the chancellor of the university, but the man was practically catatonic after the annihilation of several major cities, sure that the Palace District could be next. The campus itself had degenerated into near anarchy, and all classes were canceled.
Anton dispatched fourteen increasingly urgent messages to Chairman Wenceslas, implying that he had vital new information, but his calls were all ignored. Apparently, the leader had no further interest in the Ildiran rememberer. Rumor had it that the Chairman had taken refuge somewhere deep underground; he hadn’t been seen for days, though King Rory remained in public view, raising his hands and promising — not convincingly — that everything would be all right.
Anton knew for certain that Vao’sh wasn’t going to be all right, unless he could get some help. He would die without his fellow Ildirans, without the thism. That was the one thing Anton could not give him, no