“Funny, I was about to say the same.” Patrick faced his former comrade in arms. “If you paid attention to what the Hansa is really doing, you wouldn’t cooperate. Open your eyes.”

Zhett let out a bitter laugh at the suggestion. “She knows damned well what’s going on, Fitzie. This is the bitch who’s doing most of it!”

At some point during the operation, the soldiers smashed the imagers recording the incident. The abrupt termination of the broadcast would probably cause even more consternation among the real members of Freedom’s Sword. Patrick doubted these guards knew what they were provoking.

Her face flushed with self-importance, Shelia said, “If you don’t cooperate, we’ll stun you and drag you by your feet to one of the troop transports.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t dream of being uncooperative,” Patrick said.

They were placed in electronic restraints. He walked alongside Zhett, his head held high. The fear in his chest was no more than a dull, persistent ache. After all, he reminded himself, he’d been sentenced to death before.

119

King Peter

Estarra’s large brown eyes were full of suspicion when she heard Basil’s surprise invitation. “You don’t actually believe the Chairman’s making a peace gesture, do you?”

“Of course not, but I don’t think he’ll try anything stupid. He needs us.”

Any reasonable person might have responded with gratitude for all the aid the Confederation brought to Earth, but not Basil Wenceslas. Though he kept pretending the Hansa was thriving and under his complete control, even Basil could not ignore the disaster.

Young King Rory had invited Peter and Estarra (their royal titles intentionally omitted) to attend a banquet in the Whisper Palace “in recognition of assistance given,” with no specific acknowledgment of the Confederation or anyone by name. It was the sort of thing that should have incensed Peter, but he let it flow past him. Childish word games were not his concern. He did, however, want to know what the Chairman had up his sleeve.

And then there was Rory.

He was even more interested in meeting the familiar-looking King, with his dark eyes, dark hair, and olive complexion. It had been almost ten years since the Chairman’s henchmen had killed Peter’s mother and his brothers, Michael, Carlos. and Rory.Rory.

He couldn’t believe Basil would have thought so far ahead as to fake the boy’s death and then keep him hidden on the off chance that Peter would cause problems someday. And why would the Chairman have bothered with Prince Daniel if he already had Rory in reserve? It implied a mind-boggling depth of long-range planning, a tortuous chain of paranoia. and profound patience.

It was exactly the way Basil Wenceslas worked.

Peter had to see for himself.

“We’ll take a full guard escort. We’ll also be monitored by our own imagers, not just the Hansa’s propaganda patsies.” He tried to sound confident. “And we’ll take OX with us to record, analyze, and advise.”

Basil could not afford any more bad press. As a bellwether of the public’s dissatisfaction, the Chairman was condemned daily in postings, demonstrations, and random acts of arson or vandalism. The cleanup crew tried to snuff all the negative news stories, but they leaked out with greater and greater vehemence.

Peter had been observing the newsnets with interest. Just that morning, Patrick Fitzpatrick and Zhett Kellum — supposed ringleaders of Freedom’s Sword — had shaken up the population with the vivid broadcast of their brutal arrest. That had only inflamed the protesters more.

Basil was not going to be in a good mood when Peter and Estarra arrived.

He and Estarra dressed in their finest clothes with distinct touches of Theron and Roamer fashion, a carefully balanced mixture of pomp and practicality. He gathered a guard escort of former EDF crewmen, Roamers, Hansa colonists, and the Teacher compy, as well as a complete “documentation” team to record and broadcast the event in real time, uncensored. All of them had instructions to watch for any signs of treachery from the Chairman.

With the concentrated efforts of nearly a thousand new ships Peter had brought, the threat of a major asteroid strike had diminished dramatically. Peter was far more worried about Basil.

Fleet Admiral Willis scowled, fidgeted, and finally spoke up. “This just doesn’t feel right. We know about the executions he ordered. We’re sure he was responsible for blasting the Archfather of Unison. You saw with your own eyes what he did to former Chairman Fitzpatrick. He’s thrown subtlety right out the window with the baby and the bathwater. If the Chairman sees a chance, he’ll take it. What are your orders if things do go south?”

Peter pondered. “If necessary, carry out a surgical strike on the Hansa HQ or the Whisper Palace, one that minimizes casualties but is sure to deliver justice. The people of Earth aren’t responsible for the Chairman’s reckless actions. Don’t make them suffer any more than they already have.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, King Peter.”

Estarra took his hand, and along with their well-armed ceremonial escort, they boarded a specially outfitted diplomatic shuttle. Peter had mixed feelings about going back to the Palace District. On the chaotic and dangerous night of their escape, they had flown off while tremendous battles raged around them. Back then, the two of them had done what they thought best for humanity.

Now perhaps he could come back and fix things.

120

Del Kellum

ASolar Navy cutter flew down through the turbulent air battles to pick up the Mage-Imperator. Jora’h raised his hands to signal the Ildiran ship, which touched down on the skymine’s open deck, its engines still roaring for an immediate departure.

Before the cutter opened its hatch, the green priest peered down into the clouds where the derelict had vanished some time before, but she saw no sign of her daughter. Both of them were distraught by what the half-breed girl had done, though Jora’h said he could tell through thethism that Osira’h remained alive.

Kellum didn’t know what the girl hoped to accomplish, and he wasn’t holding his breath for a miracle to happen. Jora’h took Nira’s arm and pulled her toward the small Solar Navy ship. “She is gone now — she will succeed, or she will fail. It is up to her.” Once he got the green priest aboard the cutter, Jora’h shouted into the noise, “Join us, Del Kellum! Adar Zan’nh will do everything in his power to keep us safe.”

Kellum shook his head. “It may sound corny, but the captain’s supposed to go down with his ship. Live in the sky, die in the sky. that’s an old Roamer saying.”

As more explosions rumbled overhead, and a fireball streaked so close to the top of the skymine that it melted some of the high towers, the Solar Navy pilot insisted that they had to depart. Kellum stood his ground, refusing to leave, and finally with a brisk wave of farewell, the Mage-Imperator and Nira flew off.