Scattered Suns Read Online Free Page B

were reacting to secret EDF raids on their unarmed cargo ships. Certainly, that was sufficient provocation for the Roamers to cut off trade relations, but Chairman Basil Wenceslas had never admitted any culpability, even unofficially. Instead, he used the Roamers as scapegoats to distract the people from other military failures. That was how the Chairman did things.
    Peter felt it would have been easier to address the problems and attempt to negotiate instead of bully. Basil could have resolved the Roamer problem in a much less incendiary fashion; now, however, he would never back down. The Chairman had become more dictatorial and strident with each passing month.
    How is this going to end, Basil? You’v e showed your muscle—but did you leave an option for resolution? And is this really the worst problem facing us?
    What about the numerous fringe colonies, not yet self-sufficient, left stranded without regular supply runs? What about the devastated world-forest on Theroc? What about Peter’s suspicions of embedded Klikiss programming in tens of thousands of Soldier compies? Basil was intentionally turning a blind eye to the possible threat. What about the hydrogues ?
    Wearing a false smile, Peter and Queen Estarra appeared at the celebratory banquet, as was their duty. The blond-haired, blue-eyed, and classically handsome King had been instructed to read a brief script full of vague references about “standing up against the enemies of humanity.”
    A dash of dusky and exotic beauty amidst the regimented spectacle, Estarra stood placidly at the velvet-wrapped podium beside Peter as he gave his speech. Out of view of the newsnets, though, she clutched his hand so tightly that his knuckles hurt, and he tried to deliver the words without choking on them. She, like everyone from independent Theroc, understood the Roamers’ resentment at being forced to follow a leader they did not acknowledge. Her heart had been touched by the plight of the damaged worldforest, and she knew how little the Hansa and the EDF had done to assist Theroc, while the Roamer clans had helped willingly, without being asked.
    Even though theirs had been an arranged marriage, a political alliance, Peter loved her desperately. Estarra—having been plunged into the same strange world of governmental alliances, manipulations, and power struggles as he—had opened herself to him, and now they shared their hearts, their secrets, and their plans.
    Basil Wenceslas did not know the half of his problems.
    In the grand reception halls of the Whisper Palace, guests reveled far into the night, listening to music, offering toasts. Protocol officers had coached the King and Queen in every moment of the evening. Polite and acceptably sociable, the royal couple spent the correct amount of time with each important guest, but they remained only as long as was politically necessary. By the time Peter and Estarra returned to the Royal Wing, both of them were exhausted and edgy.
    Over the past several months, Chairman Wenceslas had been annoyingly effective at cutting Peter out of any real participation in Hansa politics. Like Old King Frederick before him, Peter’s place was merely for show, and the Chairman never let him forget it. When he tried to think for himself, when he attempted to be a real leader instead of a puppet in a colorful costume, Basil punished him severely. During his youth, Peter had not truly appreciated his freedom. Back then he had been poor, but happy, with a loving family, taking pleasure in the small joys of daily life. But he knew full well he could never slip away, nor could he go back to being the street-smart commoner he had once been.
    Now he was trapped, friendless except for Estarra and possibly the Teacher compy OX. And he had to be very, very careful. Basil had already tried to assassinate him once.
    The couple had no sanctuary even in the Whisper Palace. When they reached their private quarters, Peter and Estarra found the Chairman