Horizon Storms (50 page)

Sarein smiled automatically—an expression she had learned from years of serving under the tutelage of Basil Wenceslas. But she was not happy to be here. In fact, she found it painful to focus on her family in the midst of all this tragedy.

Her memories were filled with expanses of gold-barked worldtrees and wild undergrowth. Now she saw black skeletons, bare dirt, and the overlapping treads of heavy Roamer machinery that had mangled what remained of the forest. Her heart turned to lead in her chest, and her doubts about becoming the next Mother of Theroc resurfaced. There wasn’t much left to rule here.

845KING PETER

Peter shook his head and handed the prepared document back to Basil.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t read this.”

He saw an immediate flush of anger cross the Chairman’s face. “I dictate Hansa policy, and you’re more than aware of how far I’ll go to make 312

sure my orders are obeyed.” Basil wasn’t usually a man to lose his composure, even in private, but the years of costly defeats and the intransigence of those who were supposed to be “team players” had eaten away at him.

He hated to lose control in any fashion.

Peter tried to be calm but firm. “Your media plants have already done an excellent job of turning public opinion against the Roamers, Basil, but if I read this invective, we’ll have lynchings, if not an outright civil war.”

“We already have a civil war, King Peter—caused by the Roamers.”

Peter called the Chairman’s bluff, though he knew it was a dangerous move. “Then why don’t you have Prince Daniel read it? Try him out, see how the public reacts?”

Basil scowled. “I’ve had enough of your attitude, Peter.”

Peter drummed his fingers on the tabletop in the King’s private retiring room where the Chairman had come to meet with him. “Believe it or not, Basil, we both have the interests of the Hansa at heart. Speaker Peroni was betrothed to Estarra’s brother—maybe the Queen and I could talk with her reasonably, resolve this matter.”

“No need. The Roamers will back down soon. I envision several scenarios—all of which result in my holding humanity together, in spite of itself.”

The Chairman was further upset because he had just learned from Sarein, through Nahton, that groups of Roamers had been working in the ruined worldforest for over a month—and somehow the court green priest had never seen fit to inform anyone of the fact.

Nahton had responded with placid indifference when Basil confronted him. “It is within our rights as an independent colony to accept aid from anyone who wishes to give it. It is not a matter for Hansa discussion.” He had refused to understand the relevance of such information in the overall picture.

Now Peter leaned closer to the simmering Chairman. “Basil, you taught me to think of second- and third-order consequences. It’s fine that I rally the people and fan their anger against the hydrogues. But your end goal is to assimilate the Roamers into the Hanseatic League. Therefore, it’s counterproductive for me, as King, to officially portray them as unsalvageable traitors or monsters. If I make a formal statement from the Whisper

Palace, and then your plan succeeds, I’ll have to recant my words and change my position. You don’t want that.”

Basil lifted his head slowly, a strange expression on his face. “I don’t know whether to strangle you, Peter, or pat you on the back for being a good student. Your conclusions aren’t the same as mine, but they do have . . . some small merit. I’ll consider what you’ve said.” He took the document back and turned to leave, clearly not admitting defeat. “The Roamers will be quickly and cleanly defeated, and soon. Perhaps it’s best if you just stay out of it for now. Then you can appear benevolent afterward.”

He looked over his shoulder. “But I warn you, the Hansa must be absolutely unified under my instructions. If I decide to ask you again, Peter, don’t even think about contradicting me.”

Even when he was most troubled, Peter always knew one place where he could feel like a man, instead of a puppet ruler. When the lights were down late at night and he was in his own bedchamber—after OX had searched the room for surveillance cameras and deactivated any listening devices—Peter felt safe and comforted, simply holding his Queen.

He caressed the warm, smooth skin of Estarra’s back, tracing the outline of her shoulder blades, and pulled her closer. Her breasts were soft against his chest, and she kissed his ear while he smoothed her hair with his fingers. “I may disagree with most of Basil’s decisions, but when he chose you for me, that was the best thing he ever did.”

It must have been so strange for Estarra to come from the lush forests of Theroc and be transplanted into an entirely different culture here at the heart of the Hansa. But she had been strong, open-minded, and willing to give him a chance. At first, Peter had resented the political manipulations that thrust them together in an arranged marriage that seemed so medieval . . . but he and Estarra did indeed have much in common, and now they relied on each other for support, in a time and place where they were never sure whom they could trust.

Though many of their obligations were unpleasant or difficult, Peter and Estarra were glad to have each other, especially when they could be alone together in the dark and forget about the vast and dangerous universe outside.

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Her breath was warm against his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder, kissing the line of his jaw. “And you, Peter, have made me the envy not only of everyone on Theroc, but of every woman in the Hansa.

After all, I get to make love to the King whenever I like.”

“If only I could hold the Hansa together as easily as I hold you,” he said.

Though the Chairman and his assistants did not expect him to lead—only to issue prepared statements and stand as a figurehead—Peter sensed that many threads in the Hanseatic League were unraveling, along with the Hansa’s formerly solid relationships with the Therons and the Roamers.

Basil was trying to impose tighter and tighter control, but the more he squeezed and the more stridently he demanded that every faction follow his rigid plan, the less cooperative they became. Basil thought they were being intentionally obdurate. The government was no longer the well-oiled machine that the Chairman had worked so hard to maintain.

“Basil’s planning something else against the Roamers,” Peter said. “I can feel it, but I’d rather bow my head and accept responsibility for my own failures than make excuses for actions I never sanctioned in the first place.”

“The people believe you have a good heart,” she said. “And I’ll stand by you no matter what. You know that.”

“Yes, Estarra. I know that.”

“Anyway, there’s nothing you can do about it now. You’re worrying too much during our private bedroom time.” She rolled on top of him. “There must be something I can do to distract you from all your worries?”

He kissed her. “What did you have in mind?”

So Estarra showed him what she meant.

855TASIA TAMBLYN

Even as the war continued across the Spiral Arm, Tasia found herself back at the Mars EDF base cooling her heels. She had never been good at sitting still. In the meantime, her Manta, along with many other military ships, had gone into spacedock for the installation of new armaments, though she hadn’t filed a formal request for upgrades.

Her crew had been dispersed, some of them given R&R, others assigned to ground-based functions. Sergeant Zizu had been dispatched to the lunar base to head up the training of green recruits; Subcommander Elly Ramirez had become part of a new action committee to upgrade navigational systems on enhanced battleships.

She sensed that something big was about to happen, but no one would tell her what it was. She felt oddly left out. Since the Roamers had cut off trade with the Hansa, the general antipathy toward the clans had grown, and Tasia herself had been the butt of many veiled “Roacher jokes.”

Given the political climate, she didn’t have much desire to spend time in the officers’ clubs or even with other soldiers.

In her quarters, Tasia waited for a new assignment. Any assignment.

Why was Admiral Willis taking so long? She felt awkward, not quite knowing what to do with herself.

EA was with her, but the Listener compy was no longer the old friend she had known for so many years. Tasia sat on the edge of her bunk and looked at the small computerized companion. “You were such a brave compy, EA. I just wish you could remember what you’ve done.”

“I have the data you uploaded to me, Tasia Tamblyn. It is sufficient.”

“Not for me.”

Tasia had combed through her private records, retrieved the files and diary entries that pertained to EA. She had collated them into summary documents and uploaded each one into the compy’s sadly emptied brain, after carefully sanitizing them to remove any secret details about Roamer activities. Though EA could now recite the particulars of major experiences 316

she had shared with Tasia, the words were lifeless statements of fact, recitations instead of memories.

Tasia sighed, hating her own suspicions, not being able to trust EA. “I miss the real you.” She lay back on her bunk. So much about Osquivel had been a royal mess. One of these days she’d make up for it. The EDF would find a way to wipe out the murderous aliens that had killed her brother, her lover Robb, and too many others to name.

There was a war on, and she was spoiling for a fight. And here she was, grounded on Mars, lying in bed, doing nothing!

Restless, she climbed into her off-duty uniform and left her quarters.

She went to the mess hall to listen to the conversations, maybe track down a game of Ping-Pong. The EDF was obviously gearing up for a large initiative. And her not-too-subtle inquiries had been rebuffed with typically vague military responses. As a Manta commander, she hoped she’d be at the forefront of the action, whatever it was. At the moment, though, her ship wasn’t ready and much of her crew had been reassigned.

She had good reason to be suspicious.

She dispensed a cup of coffee—bitter and lukewarm, as usual—and sat at a table with other Manta commanders and first officers. She heard them discussing deployment orders and targeting priorities. They seemed excited at the prospect of the new rammer ships, which would require only a handful of human commanders and teams of Soldier compies with specialized programming.

Trying to join the conversation, she asked, “Did they post rammer assignments yet? Any of you chosen?”

“No, but I’m glad to be getting more hands-on action,” said one commander. “It’s not the hydrogues, but at least it’s something.”

“About time King Peter decided to teach those damned Roachers a lesson.”

Another officer grumbled, “Cutting off the fleet’s ekti supply in a time of war—are they insane?”

“Roamers?” Tasia blurted. “What does the new mission have to do—”

Suddenly, the others at the table recalled who Tasia was, despite her EDF uniform. “Never mind, Tamblyn. We’ve got our marching orders.”

The senior Manta commander stood. “We’d all better get back and check on our ships, right, everyone?”

Tasia sat drinking her coffee as the other commanders and first officers pointedly left her alone. Teach the Roamers a lesson? What on Earth was General Lanyan up to now? Since his encounter with the pirate Rand Sorengaard a long time ago, he’d had a chip on his shoulder the size of a minor planet.

Sure, she had heard grumblings about Speaker Peroni’s decision to cut off stardrive fuel shipments. Tasia had originally considered it nonsense that the EDF was destroying Roamer cargo ships—surely, as a Manta commander, Tasia would have known about such activities. But now, realizing that a secret new mission had been kept from her, she wondered how much else was going on without her knowledge.

When she got back to her quarters with a queasy stomach brought on only partially by the sour coffee, she found a message on the roomscreen.

It had a formal EDF voice log seal and a code designation from Admiral Willis. Her new assignment orders at last!

Playing the message, she saw that the maternal Admiral wore a controlled yet troubled expression. She read the orders without emotion.

“Commander Tamblyn, this message is to inform you that you’ve been reassigned from your Manta. Your cruiser will henceforth be captained by Commander Ramirez, who has been promoted to take your place at the helm.”

Tasia gasped. What had she done? Why were they taking her ship away from her? Commander Ramirez?

“I am pleased to give you the good news, however”—Willis’s voice conveyed anything but joy—“that you will be heading up the comprehensive training of second-stage recruits here on the Mars base. This is a task we really need you to do. Your innovations and flexibility should make you a superb instructor.”

“A teacher?” Tasia mumbled, as if the message screen could hear and respond. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Tamblyn.” The Admiral’s image continued without a pause. “As far as I’m concerned, your service record is exemplary and your performance has always been impeccable. However, not every soldier can participate in every mission, and General Lanyan has determined that your services are not required for our new EDF initiative.”

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“Damn right they’re not, if you intend to go after Roamers instead of the real enemy. Shizz, this is even worse than that stupid siege of Yreka.”

EA stood beside her absorbing the information, but the Listener compy placed no significance on Tasia’s emotional reaction. “I will be happy to assist you in developing a training curriculum, Tasia Tamblyn.”

Tasia tried to contain her inner anger, wanting just to punch somebody. The Earth Defense Forces clearly did not trust her. Had they been eavesdropping on her conversations? Were her quarters bugged? She had been so careful, even when talking to EA. She frowned at her compy, wondering if the Eddies themselves had done something to spark EA’s odd behavior.