Behind closed doors Basil looked each of his closest advisers in the eye and knew that they would give him honest opinions and careful analyses. They’d better. This was how work got done. This was how progress was made. And this was how the future of human civilization was determined.
The true details of how the Hansa was run need not concern the majority of its citizens.
Basil left his cardamom coffee untouched as he took charge of the private meeting. “First off, Admiral Stromo, display a complete summary of ekti stockpiles across the Spiral Arm. For the new colonization initiative, I need to know which supplies are most conveniently placed next to Klikiss planets. Those will serve as our main hubs.”
The liaison officer’s underlings had already prepared the report, sketching out distribution points and EDF depots. Ever since the harsh suppression of the stockpilers on Yreka, other fringe colonies had fallen in line and surrendered their illicit caches. Basil was confident of a fairly accurate projection.
Now, as the tablescreen displayed the datapoints, Basil turned to his deputy. “Mr. Cain, give me reasonable projections of how much stardrive fuel we can acquire in the next six months, factoring in regular Roamer production as well as the anticipated output of the Hansa’s own cloud harvester on Qronha 3. We’re expecting the first shipment soon, aren’t we?”
“By tomorrow or the next day, sir.”
The modular cloud harvester was up and operational four full days sooner than expected, and the green priest Kolker was sending regular updates. Sullivan Gold had sent the first cargo of ekti back faster than Basil’s most optimistic projections.
“Earmark it for the colonization initiative. I want to keep moving full steam ahead while people are optimistic.”
The pallid deputy nodded. “It’s like the land rush in the Old West, bound to affect markets everywhere. Investors will be scrambling to get a piece of the resources on unmapped planets.”
Basil tapped his fingertips on the table and finally sipped his coffee. “We are in the business of making fortunes, even dynasties. To do so, we have to keep the ball rolling.”
“Considering our vital military needs, Mr. Chairman,” General Lanyan grumbled, “I don’t think it’s wise to give so much stardrive fuel to colonists. It runs counter to your argument that the Klikiss transportals eliminate our requirement for ekti.”
Basil frowned at the EDF commander. “Eventually that will be true, General, but our start-up expenditures of ekti are enormous. We’ll have to deplete our current stockpiles to deliver equipment, food supplies, prefab housing, even people. It’s like railway transportation. Once you get on the rail lines, you can move anywhere from one station to another—but first everyone has to get to the nearest train station.”
Cain continued the explanation in a calm voice. “Also, General, once the transportal network is in place, we can bypass our dependence on the Roamers for their overpriced ekti supplies. Nor will we need to pander to Theroc for their green priests—who keep leaving the EDF—because we’ll have our own method of instantaneous communication, at least around a planetary network. And finally, because we’ll not need hydrogen from gas giants, we won’t even be provoking the drogues.”
Admiral Stromo looked relieved. “I remember when our biggest worry was trouncing rebellious colonists who didn’t pay their tariffs.”
“For now, though, the war goes on,” the General said. “As you ordered, Mr. Chairman, we have prepared three more Klikiss Torches and are ready to deploy them. We must determine appropriate targets.”
“One must ask, Mr. Chairman, if now is truly the best time to escalate tensions with the hydrogues.” Cain kept his expression bland, playing devil’s advocate. “Why not just lie low and let the hydrogues keep fighting the faeros while we get the transportal initiative going at full capacity?”
“Because they will keep hitting us,” Lanyan said. “The hydrogues have shown that they mean to crush us wherever they can. We need another target to show them that we mean business, that we can hurt them.”
“I concur. Any gas giant will do, so long as it has hydrogues inside.” Basil took a breath, anxious for results now that he had finally made up his mind to use their ultimate weapon. “And how is the performance of the new-model Soldier compies so far?”
“We are quite pleased, Mr. Chairman. Considering how well the compy-crewed warships performed in test missions, I intend to put them to wider use. In the meantime, our shipyards are cranking out battleships—Juggernauts, Mantas, Thunderheads, and Remoras—by the thousands. Without the supplemental Soldier compies, we wouldn’t have adequate crews to place aboard all those vessels.”
Cain interrupted the General, smiling with a little pride. “So, I thought, why not use the Soldier compies more extensively? The EDF seems satisfied with this approach—it’s the new idea you requested of me, Mr. Chairman.”
“Modified ship designs that take advantage of the expendable nature of the compies.” Lanyan pushed a plan across the tabletop to Basil, who scrutinized the designs.
Stromo eagerly explained, wanting to take credit. “Notice that the armor in these modified cruisers is significantly increased, and the engines occupy more of the available space. We’ve eliminated living quarters and unnecessary life-support systems. In front, it’s basically a flying hunk of solid, impenetrable armor.” He shrugged as if that were all the information Basil needed.
“And what is the purpose? Soldier compies fly them?”
Cain said, “They’re designed to ram hydrogues, just like that Ildiran Adar did on Qronha 3. We can build these ships, use Soldier compies to perform most of the vital functions, then turn them loose. We’ll need only a bare skeleton crew of humans to make snap decisions.”
Basil continued to study the plans, nodding, but raised a question. “We sent one reconnaissance fleet to Golgen that was crewed by Soldier compies, but that entire group vanished without a trace. Five Mantas and a Juggernaut gone.”
“They were doing hydrogue surveillance, Mr. Chairman,” Stromo said, sounding apologetic. “No wonder they were destroyed. But if we turn that fact on its head, design these ships to be destroyed, we’ll take out the big pointy beachballs each time.”
“All right,” Basil said. “But do you expect the human skeleton crews to become kamikazes? Why should they sit on the bridge of these rammers and drive them smack into a warglobe?”
Lanyan and Stromo looked at each other as if the answer was obvious. “I’m sure we can find enough volunteers, Mr. Chairman—”
“But not necessary,” Cain interrupted in a quiet, reasonable voice. “We could modify the design so that the bridge crew ejects some sort of lifeboat at the last minute. It would give them a chance, at least.”
“If you like,” Lanyan said, frowning.
“All right. I authorize it—reallocate shipyard resources and get this into the production schedule. The people want to see us killing hydrogues. It might cost us dearly, but we’ve got to sting back.”
“We can have the first group of sixty ships completed in six months, Mr. Chairman,” Stromo said.
General Lanyan added, “This rammer fleet will allow us to pick and choose our targets, wipe out drogue infestations at our convenience. One planet at a time.”
“An excellent start,” the Chairman said.
An emergency message appeared on Cain’s deskstream. The deputy leaned forward, perplexed. Basil set down his coffee cup and waited in silence. When Cain looked up, Basil took hope from the fact that the deputy’s expression was more puzzled than horrified.
“The datapoints have been accumulating for days, Mr. Chairman. One of my assistants recognized a pattern and checked other reports. The result is clear, though I don’t understand what it means.”
Basil tried to control his impatience; by now everyone else in the room had fallen silent, waiting.
“It’s the ekti shipments from the Roamers. All of the regularly scheduled deliveries failed to arrive. Every single one. The clans have cut us off everywhere . . . with no explanation.”
Since normal hours meant nothing to the Chairman of the Terran Hanseatic League, Sarein came to him in his private rooms before dawn. She was one of a very few people who could slip through his guard, and he had allowed it for many years. Their long-standing relationship had grown surprisingly comfortable, and Basil tried not to pay much attention to it, taking her for granted. It would be a weakness to rely on her too much, but he enjoyed her company.
Basil had slept for four hours—more than usual—and the young Theron woman had clearly made up her mind to wake him pleasurably. Recently, after losing both of her brothers to the hydrogues, Sarein had seemed to need his companionship more and more, but instead of letting her get closer, Basil found himself drawing away. For the time being, however, her increased dependence on him hadn’t reached the point of being bothersome. Not yet.
Sarein had used her own passcode, a gift he’d presented to her many years before and one that she dared not abuse. She wore filmy cocoon-weaves and a scarf around her shoulders to signify her ambassadorial status. The clinging garments showed off the contours of her body to good effect. She stood at his doorway, smiling in the golden light that spilled through the transparent roof of his penthouse. “Good morning, Mr. Chairman.”
He sat up in bed, granting her a smile, which she took as encouragement. Sarein began a seductive peeling of her clothes, unwinding one exotic cloth after another. By now, he should have grown tired of looking at her, or at least accustomed to her body—but he still found considerable merit in watching Sarein.
Since the attack on Theroc, she and Queen Estarra had eagerly awaited any report from their world, and the two sisters had pored over all images and summaries delivered by EDF recon ships after the initial rescue mission. Sarein had asked Basil, as a personal favor, to send more aid to Theroc, but he had decided not to, since the people there had always blithely ignored all of his requests for help in the past. He didn’t want to burn bridges, but neither did he want to be too helpful.
In the meantime, Sarein had lost some of her focus, slipping, growing needier, which set off warning bells in Basil’s mind. As the official ambassador, Sarein realized that she should go back home, at least to tour the destruction, but she was clearly glad to stay on Earth. Basil gave her all the political excuses she needed to remain in the Palace District, since he preferred to have her around. Stability was a rare enough commodity these days.
When she stood naked in the light of sunrise, Basil did not hide his genuine admiration. Sarein was perfect, not just in her breasts and thighs and mocha skin, but also in her understanding of politics and her desire to accomplish goals that were very similar to his own. They did fit very well together.
“So, Basil, do you want me?”
“The answer is obvious, if you look in the right place.”
Laughing, she jumped onto the bed, pushing him backward and climbing on top of him. She yanked the sheets aside so they would not get in the way. With a musing expression, Basil fondled her breasts, then clasped her waist, maneuvering her hips. She needed no help to guide him inside her.
Despite Sarein’s unrelenting ambition and sexual enthusiasm, Basil had never expected their affair to go on as long as it already had. Of late she seemed wary of him in spite of her neediness, almost . . . intimidated. He wondered how much she suspected about the scheme he had set up to assassinate her sister Estarra and the King. If she ever learned exactly what he had attempted, Basil would have to do a great deal of damage control.
Sarein seemed to be trying to distract him, to pull his attention to her as she thrust quickly against him, her chin upturned and her eyes closed in concentration. Her breathing came quick, sharp, urgent.
What doesn’t she want me to think about?
He couldn’t let her have such a total influence on him, when he needed to deal with other matters. He broke the rhythm by asking, “Sarein, have you had any success yet with the green priests? I’ve seen you speaking with Nahton.”
She stopped rocking, disconcerted that he would bring up business at such an intimate moment, then settled him deeper inside her, as if to make certain he would stay there. “Yes, Basil. Four separate times. And there’s simply nothing I can do. Their minds are made up, including my uncle Yarrod.”
Though Basil had expected as much, he still felt disappointed. He wondered if Sarein had lost her edge . . . or if she’d ever possessed the competence he had attributed to her. Had he been fooled by the young woman’s ambition and her beauty? He would be deeply annoyed with himself if that was truly the case. No, that wasn’t something a Hansa Chairman allowed. “And how many of the nineteen volunteer priests have left us?”
Sarein began gently pushing, sliding, and grinding again, as if to divert his attention from her bad news. She acted as if she had conversations like this every day. “Seven so far. Five are already back on Theroc, and two are currently en route.”
Basil lay back on the pillow, closed his eyes, and let out a disturbed sigh. Sarein leaned over him, close to his face. She brushed his cheeks with her fingertips and wiggled against his hips, as if hoping for a shudder of pleasure to distract him.
“I really tried, Basil. Through Nahton, I communicated with each one personally. The priests know, intellectually, that seven men can make little difference back in the worldforest, whereas they could perform a significant service for the EDF. But their hearts are torn apart, and the trees call to them.”
“Typical.” Basil remained flat on his back, refusing to move despite Sarein’s enticements. He doubted anyone else could have done more to sway the green priests. Still, it was another failure, another disappointment. “Am I the only man in the Spiral Arm who understands the magnitude of the problem here? I work every day and every night to find a solution to this crisis. I rely on the green priests who volunteered—volunteered!—to provide vital communications aboard our widely dispersed ships. Dozens of conscripted recon pilots are simply flying away from their posts, going AWOL. The Roamers have suddenly stopped delivering ekti. Step-by-step, everyone is letting me down.”
Sarein kissed him with such passion that she startled him back to the present. “I’ll never let you down, Basil.”
“That remains to be seen.” Concentrating fully on her body, he grasped Sarein and pulled her to him with surprising force. She gasped, and he almost let himself fall completely into the pleasurable distraction, but he kept just a little part of himself separate . . . and safe.
As Chairman, he was dedicated to getting the job done, any job, to perfection. It was a long time before they were both spent.