view, too. She was a little pale, but just as beautiful as ever. " Listen, Mica. Listen to the chants."
Mica concentrated harder and heard only a long rising sound and short dropped one, repeated over and over. And how strange that it wasn't coming from inside the medic wing? It seemed to be coming from outside the palace completely. From the streets below. She looked at Pia for clarification.
"It's 'Simon,' " Pia said. "The people are chanting his name. The palace is surrounded—"
"—besieged," their father corrected.
Pia nodded, finally agreeing with their father. "The Peace has Simon's men in custody. The miners refuse to work. They won't listen to Father. They'll riot if you don't stop them."
***
Mica wished that the very helpful news personality Lana Starcaster hadn't pushed a pillow down the back of her chair. The pillow made Mica flex her sore stomach to sit up, which in turn made keeping a grimace off her face even more difficult. Several media bobs buzzed in the air around them, taking in every angle.
Mica had only offered the interview in the hopes that a comm from her might mitigate the rising unrest throughout Sol City. The chants of yesterday had transformed into angry bursts of vandalism. The passion of the miners had spread through the populace and the air was static with impending violence. Even her father was convinced that the public needed to be appeased—and who better than the princess who'd been so dramatically defended? Which meant he, Pia, Mother, and representatives from the shareholders had gotten nowhere on their own.
…the heir to Sol has risen from her deathbed…
…whereabouts of Simon Miner unknown…
…dead or alive? Will she tell the truth?
…or will she toe the family line?
Lana sat opposite her, angling her gold blades off to the side. Her aura was simple sunshine that lit her blonde hair and amber eyes. She waited while an announcer introduced the exclusive interview to be transmitted in real time from the Sol palace, and then her composed expression suddenly went very concerned. The voices of the other comms were cut off, and the faraway chants of "Si-mon" could be heard. "Princess Mica Sol. Two days ago, you were shot in the heart. It's a miracle that you sit before me today. How do you feel?"
"The shot hit my shoulder mostly," Mica corrected, working up a smile. "I'm feeling much better, thank you. It's good to be back on my feet."
Lana leaned in and used a voice dripping with compassion. "You must have been very frightened when the wedding was disrupted."
"Yes, of course. I was terrified."
"And the way you protected your sister will go a long way to demonstrating that corp families, for all their wealth and excesses, love each other, too."
Why did anyone need proof of that? "Of course we do."
Lana gave her a pat kind of smile that made Mica think the uncomfortable pillow shoved down her back was intentional.
"Current media comms have focused on the plight of the plains people, commonly referred to on Sol as scavengers . A little over one hundred years ago, this planet was supposed to have been theirs. The Sol family only had a contract on the mining rights. As you're a terraforming specialist, can you explain why they are now the outcasts, scavenging, for lack of a better word, for the materials to survive?"
This was public knowledge and, yes, had been hashed extensively on the comms for the past two days.
"It's simple. The terraforming wasn't entirely successful, which is why Sol is classified as a beta world—one which cannot support human life without life aids, like oxy plugs." Then she took it a step further, to save herself Lana's next question. "The scavengers don't accept support from Sol City because that would make them dependent upon us for survival, which they believe—and perhaps rightly so—would eventually subsume them under Sol. They have been offered transport to other worlds as well, but that would constitute releasing their claim,
Mica concentrated harder and heard only a long rising sound and short dropped one, repeated over and over. And how strange that it wasn't coming from inside the medic wing? It seemed to be coming from outside the palace completely. From the streets below. She looked at Pia for clarification.
"It's 'Simon,' " Pia said. "The people are chanting his name. The palace is surrounded—"
"—besieged," their father corrected.
Pia nodded, finally agreeing with their father. "The Peace has Simon's men in custody. The miners refuse to work. They won't listen to Father. They'll riot if you don't stop them."
***
Mica wished that the very helpful news personality Lana Starcaster hadn't pushed a pillow down the back of her chair. The pillow made Mica flex her sore stomach to sit up, which in turn made keeping a grimace off her face even more difficult. Several media bobs buzzed in the air around them, taking in every angle.
Mica had only offered the interview in the hopes that a comm from her might mitigate the rising unrest throughout Sol City. The chants of yesterday had transformed into angry bursts of vandalism. The passion of the miners had spread through the populace and the air was static with impending violence. Even her father was convinced that the public needed to be appeased—and who better than the princess who'd been so dramatically defended? Which meant he, Pia, Mother, and representatives from the shareholders had gotten nowhere on their own.
…the heir to Sol has risen from her deathbed…
…whereabouts of Simon Miner unknown…
…dead or alive? Will she tell the truth?
…or will she toe the family line?
Lana sat opposite her, angling her gold blades off to the side. Her aura was simple sunshine that lit her blonde hair and amber eyes. She waited while an announcer introduced the exclusive interview to be transmitted in real time from the Sol palace, and then her composed expression suddenly went very concerned. The voices of the other comms were cut off, and the faraway chants of "Si-mon" could be heard. "Princess Mica Sol. Two days ago, you were shot in the heart. It's a miracle that you sit before me today. How do you feel?"
"The shot hit my shoulder mostly," Mica corrected, working up a smile. "I'm feeling much better, thank you. It's good to be back on my feet."
Lana leaned in and used a voice dripping with compassion. "You must have been very frightened when the wedding was disrupted."
"Yes, of course. I was terrified."
"And the way you protected your sister will go a long way to demonstrating that corp families, for all their wealth and excesses, love each other, too."
Why did anyone need proof of that? "Of course we do."
Lana gave her a pat kind of smile that made Mica think the uncomfortable pillow shoved down her back was intentional.
"Current media comms have focused on the plight of the plains people, commonly referred to on Sol as scavengers . A little over one hundred years ago, this planet was supposed to have been theirs. The Sol family only had a contract on the mining rights. As you're a terraforming specialist, can you explain why they are now the outcasts, scavenging, for lack of a better word, for the materials to survive?"
This was public knowledge and, yes, had been hashed extensively on the comms for the past two days.
"It's simple. The terraforming wasn't entirely successful, which is why Sol is classified as a beta world—one which cannot support human life without life aids, like oxy plugs." Then she took it a step further, to save herself Lana's next question. "The scavengers don't accept support from Sol City because that would make them dependent upon us for survival, which they believe—and perhaps rightly so—would eventually subsume them under Sol. They have been offered transport to other worlds as well, but that would constitute releasing their claim,
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