The officer’s demeanor spoke volumes. Andragna felt an enormous sense of relief. “Thank you. Is there anything to report?”
Portatious offered the Thraki equivalent of a grin. “If threats were missiles we’d be dead by now.”
The bridge crew laughed, and Andragna looked to his screens. With each passing temporal unit three more ships arrived. That’s how quickly his forces were entering the system. It wouldn’t be long before the defenders were outgunned. Then, with the Confederate vessels as a screen, the battle could begin. Would the Sheen take the bait? Yes, the naval officer thought to himself, as surely as the universe continues to expand.
The Hoon, along with its electromechanical minions, had long been able to follow its prey through hyperspace, a capability that so far as it knew was completely unique. That’s why it had been able to track the Confederate ship back to its lair, record all of the necessary navigational data, and download it to the fleet.
So now, as the Ninja hurtled through time and space, a long silvery snake followed behind. A snake comprised of countless Sheen ships all having the same destination. Tyspin, who had no way to know about the menace that followed, was on the bridge at the moment when the Ninja popped into normal space. Data rippled across previously vacant screens, the corn techs struggled to deal with an avalanche of high priority corn calls, and the naval officer did her best to take it in. The displays told the story.
The Confederate forces, more than before, were clustered around well-established transit points, while a host of Thraki vessels had coalesced into three “war” globes, all of which continued to grow as more ships arrived. The naval officer was still in the process of absorbing that, of dealing with it, when Captain Hashimoto yelled in her ear. “We’ve got trouble. Admiral! It looks like the Sheen managed to follow!”
Tyspin struggled to combat the rising sense of panic. Follow? No, it wasn’t possible’ Or was it? My god, what had she done?
The Hoon answered the human’s unspoken question by ordering a wing of fighters to sweep past the Ninja, all flying in formation, blasting everyone with the same message. “Hold your fire! We come in peace!”
It might have been ignored except for one extremely important factor: Rather than broadcast an image of itself, clad in a metallic body, the Hoon sent video of a human being instead. And not just any human being, but Jorley
Jepp, who watched with slackjawed amazement as his countenance appeared on the main corn screen, and words poured from his mouth. Not his words but those that the Hoon had given the electronically generated doppelganger to say. The syntax was wooden, but who would know the difference?
“Hello, my name is Jorley Jepp. The Sheen were kind enough to rescue me after my ship was destroyed. I have lived with them for many months. In spite of the endless persecution imposed by the rapacious Thraki, the Sheen come in peace, and call on the Confederacy to sponsor meaningful negotiations. Thank you.”
There was a pause followed by a holo of President Marcott Nankool. His face was stem. “Given hostile actions by both the Thraki and the Sheen—the Confederacy takes small comfort from their proclamations of peace. If both parties are truly willing to negotiate, the Confederacy is willing to help, if the following conditions are met: The warships within both fleets will take all targeting systems offline, cut power to primary weapons systems, and remain where they are. In the meantime, our offensive capabilities will remain at the highest state of readiness. Should either side violate the conditions just put forth—the Confederacy will side with the opposing group and open fire. That’s our best offer... take it or leave it.” The video snapped to black.
It was a gutsy position, especially in light of the fact that the Confederacy possessed less firepower than the other potential combatants, and stood to lose its government as well. It could work, however—since all three of the groups had the technology necessary to determine when weapons systems were online. Tyspin held her breath as millions waited for some sort of reply. If the combatants were to ignore the offer, if a fullscale battle ensued, the fault would be hers. For assuming too much, for failing to anticipate the possibilities, and for underestimating the enemy. The knowledge brought blood to her face and made her chest feel tight. Comfort came from an unexpected source. “It wasn’t your fault,” Jepp said softly,
“there was no way you could know. Not even I knew the Sheen could follow a ship through hyperspace.”
That wasn’t strictly true, of course, since Jepp had had inklings of such a capability, but he liked Typsin and wanted her to fee! better. And, though she would have been reluctant to admit it, the naval officer did feel somewhat better, and turned her attention to the screens. Jepp tried to guess what the Hoon would do next. The AI had already revealed a level of political sophistication greater than he had originally supposed. First, during the power struggle with its twin—and now in its dealings with both the Confederacy and the Thrakies. One thing was for sure, however. While some beings played power games for the fun of it, the Hoon had little interest in such diversions. It wanted to win—and nothing else mattered.
A full minute elapsed before Grand Admiral Andragna appeared. “We find the Confederacy’s conditions to be acceptable—and are willing to comply.”
A computer generated image of Jepp filled the corn screen half a second later. He smiled. ‘The peaceloving Sheen agree to the conditions and stand ready to negotiate.” The image faded to static. Tyspin raised an eyebrow, and Jepp shrugged innocently. “What am I supposed to do? It’s not like the Hoon asked my permission or anything.”
The admiral turned as President Nankool reappeared. A digital readout filled the tower righthand corner of the frame. “Excellent. Prepare to deactivate targeting systems sixty seconds from now ... Weapons to follow.”
It took less than five minutes for the warships of both fleets to power down but more than six hours for the Confederate Navy to gather the requisite data, process it, and produce the necessary reports, reports that became outdated the moment they were issued but were supplemented by a hastily rigged sampling program meant to monitor compliance. It was scant protection—but all that the Confederacy had. Nankool’s message was issued a few minutes later. “Thank you for your patience. As of 1500 hours local, we find both sides in compliance. That being the case, envoys from both fleets are invited to board the Friendship six hours from now. No more than twelve representatives from each fleet will be allowed to board the vessel that serves as our capital. If you have questions regarding protocol or logistics please contact my staff on corn channel six. Thank you.”
The Hoon was everywhere and nowhere in particular—flitting from ship to ship, riding recon drones no larger than a pebble, gorging itself on data. Data regarding the system in which the battle would take place, data on the fools who believed its lies, and data on the Thraki who had nowhere to run. Not alt of the Thraki, because fully 25 percent of their ships were missing, but most of them. The rest could and would be dealt with later. Yes, there was much to learn and every reason to learn it, especially given the fact mat if the Thraki fleet were added to the Confederate fleet the resulting force would be equal to all of its units combined. The Hoon had never faced an enemy that powerful before, never fought a battle with anything like parity, and didn’t want to lose. That being the case, it was time to stall—a task for which the soft body was uniquely suited. The necessary orders were issued, re ceived, and ultimately complied with.