KING PETER
In exchange for the medical data about Reyn’s illness, King Peter had promised Zoe Alakis that he would deal with the biological markets on Rakkem. But before he could crack down, he wanted to know more.
He didn’t particularly like or trust Zoe Alakis, and he had many concerns about her own Pergamus facility—such as why she had kept it secret for so long and why she refused to share her research—but Rakkem sounded far worse.
Peter was sure that Deputy Eldred Cain would know more about it, and so he asked for a full report. Cain was soft-spoken, diligent, and oddly reliable. Better yet, he was refreshingly free of higher ambitions, perfectly content to be the Confederation’s Deputy. His only extravagant tastes lay in collecting rare art, and Peter did not begrudge him the hobby.
The pale-skinned man arrived on a diplomatic transport from Earth, bearing all the records he could find about Rakkem. Peter and Estarra reserved one of Arbor’s high-tier rooms so they could enjoy lunch while reviewing the report.
Though the restaurant had many qualified servers, Zachary Wisskoff waited on them personally. The maître d’ maintained his self-important demeanor, no matter who the guests were. Without even taking an order, he brought plates of broiled caterpillar medallions, a salted compote of berries and nuts, and a sweet spun-sugar dessert confection made to look like a cocoon. Though he had nothing to do with the preparation, Wisskoff took inordinate pride in the meal he served.
Deputy Cain sampled his first few bites of caterpillar steak and immediately turned to business, to the consternation of the waiter. “The information you requested is of great concern, King Peter. It will make you lose your appetite.” He placed his datapad on the table next to Peter and Estarra, calling up a display. “Rakkem is one of those places that we know exists because the population expresses a demand, but we all wish it wasn’t there.”
“We already promised Zoe Alakis that we would shut it down,” Estarra said. “How bad is it?”
“Rakkem sells replacement organs, and they perform unorthodox and unsanctioned medical treatments for the very desperate at exorbitant fees.” Cain called up items on a list. “They perform antiaging chelation treatments that can restore youth and vigor … but the treatment fails at least thirty percent of the time. The new skin sloughs off, and the victim usually dies within a week.” Cain looked up. “Rakkem doesn’t disclose that part to potential clients.”
Estarra looked at the images, disgusted. “How can such a place exist?”
“Frankly, sire, I’m surprised Rakkem curesellers haven’t flocked here to you, offering dozens of crackpot miracle drugs for Prince Reyn.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Peter said. “They know we’d retaliate if they took advantage of our son.”
“All those other victims are somebody’s sons and daughters,” Estarra pointed out. “It seems Zoe Alakis was right to ask us to crack down.”
Cain’s voice took on a cautionary tone. “You are in a gray area here, Majesties. Rakkem is not a signatory to the Confederation charter, and you don’t have jurisdiction over independent planets. If you were to impose your rule on a sovereign world—even a disgusting one like Rakkem—there could be serious consequences.”
Seeing that they had not eaten much of their lunch, Wisskoff paced just out of earshot and finally approached with a challenging tone in his voice. “Is something wrong with the food? I shall reprimand the chef if necessary.”
“We’re fine,” Peter said. “Just no longer hungry.”
“Perhaps I should offer you a digestive, then? I can bring you shots of our finest.”
Peter shooed him away.
Cain continued, “After the breakup of the Hansa, many planets chose not to join the new government. Frankly, I’m surprised the Roamer clans signed on at all, considering what the Hansa did to them. Other colony worlds felt so scarred by the repression of Chairman Wenceslas, that they wanted nothing to do with the Confederation.”
Peter frowned. “They’ll come around once they see the benefits of being part of the Spiral Arm community. Another six joined us in the past two months.”
Cain tapped the datapad. “Worlds like Rakkem prefer to remain on the fringes, beholden to no authority. They can do as they like without consequences.”
Peter felt anger brewing inside. Their decision would cause controversy, but he had given his word, and Zoe had fulfilled her end of the bargain. Tom Rom was already on his way to Kuivahr to give Tamo’l the medical data.
“The existence of a place like Rakkem presents a material danger to the Confederation. Our citizens are being harmed by these dangerous and unproven treatments, not to mention the scams. And if people are being murdered to profit from the sale of their organs, the risk is too great. We can’t turn a blind eye to a place like that.”
At the entrance to the private dining chamber, a flustered Zachary Wisskoff raised his voice. “The King and Queen should not be disturbed. They haven’t finished their meal yet.”
A green priest ignored the maître d’ and hurried into the room. “Father Peter, Mother Estarra—General Keah has returned with the Kutuzov. She is on her way with a direct report of the battle at the Gardeners’ home system.”
Peter’s blood ran cold; they had already received reports from the green priest Nadd aboard the Kutuzov, but he wanted to debrief Keah himself. “Send the General here as soon as her shuttle lands. Deputy Cain will want to hear her summary as well.”
As the green priest dashed off to send the message, Wisskoff lifted his chin. “I’ll bring a large pot of klee and reserve the balcony tier for the rest of the afternoon.”
Before long, General Keah arrived in full uniform. During their return flight she’d had time to prepare a full report, and now she presented actual images of the dead worldforest planet, the impenetrable shell made up of trillions of interlocked plates. Keah let the images speak for themselves. “The Gardeners were right to be terrified, Majesties. Look what the Shana Rei can do.”
Deputy Cain said, “If they tried to englobe the Theroc system we’d never be able to stop them.”
Peter felt a dread deeper than any he had experienced before. When the great shadow cloud built the nightshade above Theroc, that had been terrible enough. But an enemy that could encase an entire solar system was so much more powerful than anything he had previously conceived. “Send a message to the Wild and let the Gardeners know what we found.” Arita was about to depart for the other continent again on an expedition of her own.
Keah cracked her knuckles. “There is some good news. From Earth, Dr. Krieger sent word that his first large stockpile of the enhanced-design sun bombs are ready. A day late and a credit short, and he’s tearing his hair out about it, but I told him not to worry.” She raised her eyebrows. “We’re going to have a chance to use them, no doubt about that. The shadows will be back.”
“Arm all our ships as soon as possible,” Peter said. “Do we have enough of the new sun bombs?”
“Never enough, sire—but sufficient to cause a lot of damage.” Her eyes sparkled. “And if you don’t mind, I would suggest sending a full load of them off to the Solar Navy—to be good neighbors, and also to remind them that humans can do things better.”
Peter looked at Estarra and they both nodded. “The Mage-Imperator generously provided us with the weapon designs in the first place. Let’s help them with their fight—we have a common enemy.”