The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [159]
As his first line of defense above the atmosphere, a variety of scout ships, EDF vessels, and salvage craft were combing the vicinity for incoming shards of rock. But the empty volume of space was so vast and his ships so few that he couldn’t possibly intercept, or even detect, the majority of lunar debris.
Just yesterday an asteroid estimated to be six hundred meters in diameter had wiped out half of Buenos Aires. Two more had struck the Arctic. One had slammed into the middle of the Australian outback.
And the main mass of the shattered Moon hadn’t even arrived yet.
Basil listened to each report with growing dread and anger, as if physics itself had somehow turned against him, bombarding his Earth in an expression of malice toward him.
As a result, the world remained in a constant state of panic. Worse, every-one seemed to be blaming Basil. Patrick Fitzpatrick III, after reappearing from whatever rock he’d crawled under, had exposed the Hansa’s elimination of the former Chairman. He made it sound like a bad thing to preempt treason! And Fitzpatrick entirely mischaracterized General Lanyan’s resource-acquisition missions to the Roamer outposts.
Nevertheless, Fitzpatrick had sparked quite an uproar. Freedom’s Sword had been increasingly vociferous in calling for Basil’s resignation and the return of King Peter. They were complete, gullible fools. If Peter hadn’t defied him, if everyone in the Hansa had simply done as they were told, if human beings had simply been reliable, then none of these problems would have happened. The human race would be on the right track.
It was their own damned fault. How could they cast the blame on him?
Deputy Cain stood behind Basil’s black upholstered chair, having delivered his daily report from the surface, painting a grimmer and grimmer picture. After McCammon’s confession and execution, Basil had been forced to keep Cain and Sarein close. He hadn’t had time to do further interrogations because the Solar Navy had arrived, bringing hellfire with them. Despite his continued reservations, he had to rely on them.
Before Basil could issue further instructions to Cain to counter the increasing unrest, the technicians in the underground control center called to him, “Ships coming in, Mr. Chairman! A large number of them. Looks like . . . EDF ships. Ten Mantas, one Juggernaut, and a lot of smaller, unidentifiable craft.”
“Are any EDF ships unaccounted for? Did Sirix hold out on us?” Basil turned to Cain. The deputy briskly shook his head.
Then, like a slap in the face, an image appeared on the screen — King Peter dressed in full regalia with Queen Estarra beside him. “People of Earth, the Confederation has come to assist you in your time of need. We have brought many Roamer ships to help chart and reroute the worst of the lunar fragments, and large military vessels to do the big work. Please accept our assistance in keeping Earth safe.”
A hot flush crept up Basil’s cheeks, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled and exhaled swiftly. “This is insane. Divert General Brindle’s ships to apprehend him. King Peter must face trial for the crimes he has committed. Drive away the Roamer ships. They constitute an enemy military in our solar system.”
Deputy Cain did not move. His voice was cool and logical. “Mr. Chairman, we can’t afford to turn down the assistance. You’ve seen the projected scale of the impacts. We do not have the means to do this alone.”
He skewered Cain with a glare. “You can see what Peter’s doing, can’t you? He comes here just to taunt me, to flaunt that he is unharmed while I hide underground, and to subvert the loyalties of the people — my people. Altruistic reasons? This is a personal thing, a way for Peter to twist the knife.”
“You misjudge him, sir. Though you two may disagree on politics, Peter does