He had rehearsed his acceptance speech so many times he didn’t even remember giving it. He flowed with the event, and the coronation went perfectly, with no mention of the hydrogue attack at Jupiter. That news would break soon enough. Such a disaster should not mar the day that a Prince became King.

When he returned to Chairman Wenceslas for a brief respite before he was expected to attend further celebrations and banquets, Raymond felt the drug’s effects wearing off. At last, he could think for himself again.

By now the Chairman had digested the news of the humiliating EDF defeat. He had passed beyond disbelief and had begun to plan the best response and the most appropriate spin on the situation. Raymond chose not to ask for his reaction just yet. As King Peter, he would no doubt become the mouthpiece for the Hansa’s outrage.

Basil came up to him, nodding in satisfaction. “At least one thing went well today,” he said. “King Peter, you have the potential to be a good ruler. We’ll wait a few years…” He smiled at Peter, as if he thought he was delivering good news. “And then we will find you an appropriate queen.”

113: MARGARET COLICOS

113MARGARET COLICOS

In the silent base camp, backing away from the uprooted worldforest grove and leaving the body of Arcas inside the dim tent, Margaret and Louis crept toward their own temporary hut.

Louis was stunned, his skin pale and grayish. Margaret’s vision contracted into a narrow point as she hurried him along. She simply had to move. She needed to discover information—and see how bad their situation might be, though she was afraid she didn’t want to know.

Inside their tent, all of her records were torn apart, the tables and study screens overturned and crushed. Computers and datawafers had been melted into slag. Their standard communications transmitter had been smashed, leaving nothing but ruined metal casing, torn-apart wires, destroyed pulse nodes. A standard electromagnetic signal would have taken months to travel at the speed of light before it could be intercepted by the nearest Hansa colony or spacecraft. Much too long for a rescue. Even so, their enemy was taking no chance that Margaret and Louis would call for help.

“But… why? What is this for?” Louis stared up at her. “Who could have done this to us?”

Margaret’s expression turned hard. He honestly hadn’t figured it out. “Not much question about that, Louis.” She saw that her translations of the Klikiss hieroglyphics, all of their new discoveries, had been systematically obliterated, even the handwritten notes. She took her husband’s arm, felt him shaking, and led him out into the open again. The tents were flimsy, the light meager, and their defensive possibilities few. “We’re too vulnerable here.”