"Anderson, Kevin J - Seven Suns 4 - 2005 - Scattered Suns" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

"Roamers have been declared hostiles. Therefore, all inhabitants of this facility will be taken away and processed. Our ships will accept your surrender. Any resistance will be considered grounds for immediate and decisive retaliation."
Jumpsuited agricultural workers scrambled to their meeting points, as they had been drilled to do, but an overwhelming force of Earth military vessels already loomed above the greenhouse complex. They were bottled up here.
The emergency lights cast strange shadows among the growing plants, and flickering alarms added to the nightmarish quality. Without the sun mirror, the temperature inside the dome was already dropping. Because they had no official military branch, Roamer security depended on secrecy and rapid dispersal of their ships.
In direct defiance of the admiral's order, one small cargo ship accelerated like a bullet down from a food storage satellite. The greenhouse intercom picked up the pilot's transmission over a private Roamer channel. "I'll keep them busy while the rest of you get away! Everybody better evacuate immediately."
"It's Shelby. That idiot-what the hell does he think he's doing?"
The cargo ship flew in like a matador provoking a bull. Shelby launched one tiny potshot directly at the lead Manta cruiser.
Nikko and his parents made their way to the nearest emergency station and grabbed masks, tugging the straps to secure them firmly over mouth and nose. Hands on his hips, Crim grumbled through the mask, "Even if he did manage to distract them for more than a nanosecond, none of our evacuation ships could outrun those EDF vessels."
True to his word, Admiral Stromo responded with deadly force. Two jazer beams lanced out from the Manta, played across the small ship's hull, and ripped it open.
"Shelby," Crim mumbled in disgust as his wife moaned. "The man wasn't fit for recycling. Now he's made it worse for all of us."
Nikko grabbed his mother's arm. "I've got theAquarius . It won't take many people, but we can still-"
Marla turned an intense, determined look on her son. "You've got the wentals aboard, Nikko. Youhave to get away. Think what the Big Goose might do if they got their hands on something like that."
"Probably pour them down the drain," Crim said with a snort.
Incensed by Shelby's ineffective harassment, the EDF invaders fired a single jazer pulse at the main greenhouse dome. It was probably meant to be a warning shot, but the beam ruptured the armored glass.
The wave of explosive decompression sent a thump through the dome. A hurricane of escaping atmosphere ripped plant trays and hydroponics tanks off their racks. Nikko's ears popped. The wave of cold struck him like a sledgehammer. The air grew thinner with stomach-lurching rapidity.
Air geysered into space with the force of a rocket engine, sufficient to nudge the greenhouse asteroid off its rotational axis. Thrown to their hands and knees, agricultural workers cried out in dismay.
Caught in the vortex of escaping atmosphere, the aerogel clouds spun, clumped together, and then covered the blasted opening. The polymers and resins that made up the ultralight material broke down upon exposure to vacuum; like gauze packed into a wound, the artificial clouds filled the rupture, providing enough protection for the people to survive. The seal was imperfect, though, and leaking air shrieked through gaps in the aerogel plug.
Crim saw many of his plants already withering, the pots tumbled about as if a giant hand had scattered them. His angry curses were drowned out by loud alarms in the thinning air.
Marla pushed Nikko urgently away. "Run to your ship. Don't wait for anybody. Just fly out of here and take the wentals. Take the wentals!"
"I can't just leave you here! Come with me-"
"We need to stay with our people." Marla gestured to the Roamers around them. "But you're too important."
"Then let me gather a group. I can fit maybe a dozen or so aboard-"
"You've got a responsibility." His father cut him off as shadows of more EDF ships closed in overhead. "Seems to me that if you lose even a minute, you'll never get out of here."
Marla met her son's flustered expression. "Don't worry, the Eddies have to take us somewhere. At least we'll find out what happened to all the POWs from Rendezvous and Hurricane Depot."
When Nikko still hesitated, his father bellowed, "Go now, Nikko-and don't let us down."
In the low gravity, flashing lights, and shrieking wind, Nikko ran.

3
KING PETER
Despite the newsnet footage of the "triumphant destruction" of Rendezvous and the gala celebration of the EDF victory, King Peter did not see much cause for joy. General Lanyan was beating his chest, proclaiming a clean and decisive win, but it was in a battle that had never needed to be fought. Peter knew that from the inside, but no one in the Hansa government had listened to his objections. After all, he was only theKing .
Riled up, the Hansa citizens had been primed by months of skewed coverage, reports, and rumors that painted the Roamers as shifty, unreliable, greedy. No reason had been given for the clans' refusal to provide stardrive fuel to the war effort, though Peter knew that the Roamers 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 tonegotiate 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've 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 thehydrogues ?
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 waiting there. He too had slipped away from the reception just long enough to ambush them.
Dapper and unflappable, Basil sat in Peter's favorite comfortable chair. In an adjacent chair by a small table, Eldred Cain hunched over papers and a datapad. The pale and hairless deputy paused in his discussion of details with the Chairman; it seemed he took advantage of every free moment. Seeing the two enter, Cain straightened his papers and stored the analysis in his datapad.
Peter drew a slow breath to cover his surprise and anger at finding the man there. "Why don't you make yourself at home, Basil?" He modulated his tone, showing only a hint of his displeasure so as not to invoke Basil's wrath. "Were all the normal conference rooms booked at this time of night?"
Basil rested casually, as if he considered himself welcome anywhere. "Business hours never end in the Hansa, Peter."
Peter struggled to mask his hostility toward the Chairman, although he would never forgive the man for attempting to kill both him and Estarra, and for orchestrating the murders of his whole innocent family. "Then by all means, let's get down to business, Basil. It's been a long day, and I didn't see your name in my appointment book."
"I always have an appointment." Basil marked his place in the report he was reading and handed it to his deputy, who added it to his stack. "I came to inform you of a change in plans. Prepare to embark on an important trip, a visit of state that Hansa officials consider necessary."
After removing Estarra's gem-studded shawl for her and draping it over a sculpture of a fat man holding a bowl of grapes, Peter unfastened his heavy ornamental cape and stretched his arms. Weariness got the better of him, and he couldn't resist baiting the Chairman. "Where am I going? To make a truce with the Roamers?"
Basil frowned at the suggestion. "To Ildira. You leave in two days."
Peter and Estarra had both heard wonderful stories of the Ildiran homeworld, bathed in the light of seven suns, but neither had visited the alien capital.
The Chairman explained, "Not long ago a new Mage-Imperator took the throne. It is appropriate that the Great King of the Terran Hanseatic League pay his respects. Recent months have been unusually hectic, but even so, we have been remiss in our duty."