The conference room was packed by the time Booly arrived. There were familiar faces, like those that belonged to Admiral Angie Tyspin, the naval officer who had risked her life and career to help the 13thDBLE during the mutiny. Major, no Colonel Nancy Winters, his newly named chief of staff, Major Andre Kara, his inter-service liaison officer, and CO of the 1 st Foreign Regiment, Colonel Kitty Kirby, CO of the 13thDBLE, War Commander Wenio MortaKa, CO of the newly integrated 3rdForeign Infantry Regiment, his superior. Ambassador DomaSa, Battle Leader Pasar Hebo, CO of the 4thForeign Infantry Regiment, Senator Alway Omo, representing the Ramanthian government. General Jonathan Alan Seebo346, CO of the 2ndForeign Parachute Regiment, plus a lot of beings he hadn’t met, and last, but certainly not least, Maylo ChienChu.
She sat toward the front of the room, next to Ambassador DomaSa, and smiled when his eyes made contact with hers. A spark jumped the gap, and the legionnaire remembered how those same eyes had stared up at him from the misery of a prison cell. And later, over a dinner table on a beach inRio , and eventually in the warmth of his bed. What had gone wrong anyway? And how could he fix it?
Winters cleared her throat, and Booly realized that he should have spoken by then. He forced a smile.
“Good morning—if that’s what this is. Thank you for coming. We have a lot to accomplish, so let’s get started.”
Booly paused and allowed his eyes to drift across the room. “This is a truly historic occasion. The creation of new alliances, the structures required to make them viable, and the problems that naturally follow.
“As I look out on your faces, I see both soldiers and civilians. There are a number of different cultures represented here, so the mix may or may not seem natural to you. Please suspend whatever doubts you may have, and give the process a chance. We have very little time. Civilian support is critical. Without it, we cannot possibly win. It’s my belief that everyone must come to agreement on the overall strategy, and once that’s accomplished, the military will do its best to carry the plan forward. Does anyone have questions regarding that approach?”
There were questions, niggling matters for the most part, as various beings sought to establish their importance, impress their counterparts, or simply exercise their mouth parts. Ishimoto Six, who sat to Maylo’s right, tuned them out. He was much more interested in watching her out of the comer of his eye. And what the senator saw disturbed him. Her relationship with General Booty was over—everyone said so—but what of her eyes? They suggested something different.
The clone looked at Booly. The soldier answered a question. The Sheen were coming—that was the point of the meeting—so what would happen then? Booly was brave—everyone agreed on that—which meant he would participate in the fighting. Perhaps the machines would kill him. It was a small thought, a horrible thought, but one he couldn’t shake.
“So,” Booly said, “did I answer your questions? Good. Let’s move to the next step. The presentation materials have been downloaded to your personal comps so there’s no need to take a lot of notes. I would remind you that this material is secret and not for disclosure to anyone who hasn’t been cleared.”
Omo listened to the translation, wondered if the last comment was directed at him, and decided it didn’t matter. The Thraki were the only party that might be interested, and they were losers. Or would be, assuming Booly made the logical moves. “Here’s the situation,” Booly began, and turned to watch a holo bloom at his side. The star map, prepared with the aid of clones themselves, showed most of the Hegemony. “Reduced to the simplest possible terms, the Sheen have been chasing the Thraki for hundreds if not thousands of years, and plan to eradicate their race. Why? They aren’t sure, and neither are we.
“Thraki politics revolve around two groups, the Runners, who favor continued flight, and the Facers, who want to turn and fight. About the time that the Thraki armada entered Hegemony-controlled space—the Facers took control of the government.”
Conscious of the clones in the room—the officer chose his next words with care. “The Hegemony greeted the newcomers in what can only be described as a peaceful fashion, allowed them to establish some bases, and settled into what they assumed would be a peaceful coexistence.”
All as part of a cynical attempt to use the Thraki against the Confederacy, Maylo thought to herself. . . Not that she blamed Booly for leaving that out—since his job was to strengthen the alliance not destroy it.
“Unfortunately,” Booly continued, “the Hegemony had no way to know that the Thraki hoped to use them as a sacrificial pawn.”
There was a pause while someone explained the game of chess to a Dweller at the back of the room.
“More than that,” Booly went on, “it now appears that the Thraki hierarchy hoped to use the rest of the Confederacy in much the same manner. A plan that could still succeed if we allow them to remain where they are.
“We don’t know a whole lot about the Sheen, only what the Thraki have chosen to share, and the report citizen Williams brought in. However, assuming that those reports are accurate, the machines are absolutely ruthless and will lay waste to any planet found to harbor the Thraki.”
“So let’s go to Zynig47 and root the bastards out,” the senator from Turr growled. “It would serve the unnamable interlopers right.”
Booly had been expecting a comment of that sort and nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, it would. But there’s a problem. Even now, after the consolidation of our forces, the Thraki have more ships than we do. A lot more. Admiral Tyspin”
Tyspin rose and made her way to the front of the room. She wore a blue flight suit, the star that denoted her rank, but none of the many decorations to which she was entitled. Though not especially pretty, there was strength in her face, and her eyes gleamed with intelligence. They were green and swept the compartment like lasers. “What General Booly told you was correct... The Thraki fleet, or armada as they prefer to call it, consists of more than five thousand ships, plus auxiliary craft equivalent to shuttles, tugs, tankers and so on.”
Tyspin pointed toward the holo that appeared next to her. A series of computer-rendered ships appeared. “The main body of the armada consists of supply ships, which might more accurately be referred to as ‘factory ships,’ since they carry raw materials plus the robotic machinery required to manufacture every item the fleet requires.
“The factory vessels are protected by three types of warships roughly analogous to what we refer to as battleships, destroyers, and fighters, though of differing displacements. It should be noted that all of their vessels are equipped with standardized weapons and propulsion systems, something that gives them a logistical advantage and represents an area that we haven’t even started to address.”
It was a telling point and one that some of the civilians hadn’t considered as yet. There were thousands of differences between the ships built on Hive, Earth, and Alpha001, a factor that would add a great deal of complexity to any effort aimed at using them in a concerted fashion. Some, dismayed by what they heard, felt their hearts begin to sink.
Tyspin scanned their faces. “Sorry, but that’s not the worst of it. Thanks to countless years of unremitting warfare the Thraki have evolved into a race of warriors, which, with the possible exception of the Hudathans, is something none of us can claim to be. That culture—that toughness—is a weapon in and of itself. Questions?”