Andragna felt a sudden sense of excitement. Could this be what he had been hoping for? Was the Confederacy prepared to form an alliance? Nothing would please him more. The officer nodded but kept a tight rein on his body language. The humans were clever and might have educated themselves regarding the nonverbal aspects of Thraki communication.
‘The issue,” Nankool continued, “centers around certain weapons included in your inventory. I’m not sure what the technical name for such devices would be—but you and your priests commonly refer to them as ‘the twins.’ “
Andragna felt his ears go back, knew the fur along the back of his neck stood straight up, and was powerless to stop it. How did they know? And if the Confederation knew about the twins, what else did they have? Or was this some sort of trick? A stratagem designed to draw him out?
None of the admiral’s aides had been briefed regarding the twins, but they could see how upset he was and stirred uneasily. The conference room felt suddenly small and confining. Andragna decided to play it safe. ‘Twins? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Nankool raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, perhaps this will refresh your memory.”
A holo blossomed at the center of the conference room table. The footage had been captured by Major McGowan on Veca IV. Content made up for what it lacked in technique. The assemblage watched Booly examine the Tomes of Truth, looked over the officer’s shoulder as he stared at a beautifully wrought illustration, and spoke with Sister Torputus.
With the exception of Sector 27, who belonged to the priesthood, the picture of two cylinders meant nothing to the rest of the delegation. He had never seen the twins with his own eyes but was aware of rumors. No wonder Andragna was upset! The Confederacy had stumbled across something very important indeed. He wanted to help but was forced to watch while the admiral struggled to maintain his composure.
Andragna listened to the thin reedy voice, saw the female’s obvious sincerity, and sensed that what she claimed was potentially true. Once detonated, the twins might inflict some damage on his fleet. Still, they were the only equalizer he had, and well worth hanging on to. Besides, now that the twins were out in the open, he had a new bargaining chip, one that he should retain for as long as possible. The Thraki mustered all the dignity he could. “Though well intentioned—Sister Torputus had no right to reveal such information. That being said, I suppose it would be pointless to issue further denials. However, while it’s true that we possess two rather unique energy weapons, the rest is pure conjecture. I have complete faith in our technical experts who assure me that while powerful—both weapons can be successfully deployed.”
The last statement was an outright falsehood—but no one knew that except for Andragna. Nankool experienced an almost overwhelming sense of anger. His hands made fists. The Thraki position was arrogant and foolhardy. More than that, it could result in millions of unnecessary deaths. He glanced at his wrist term, saw that his hands had started to shake, and clasped both behind his back.
“Very little time remains ... In the interest of your people, as well as ours, the Confederacy requests, no, implores you to forgo use of such weapons, at least until such time as you and your fleet are well clear of our systems.”
“That’s it?” Andragna inquired sarcastically. “You ask that we sacrifice the very weapons that mean victory for our people? In return for what? Your heartfelt prayers?”
“No,” Nankool replied coldly. “Forswear use of the twins, and we will fight at your side—not as sacrificial pawns, but as equals.”
There it was, evidence that the Confederacy understood the nature of Andragna’s intent, but was willing to overlook it. For a price. But which was more valuable, the naval officer wondered. The twins? And all their latent energy? Or the Confederacy? With a small but still powerful fleet?
Andragna wanted to believe Nankool, wanted to trust me Confederacy, but found that difficult to do. The Thraki were a self-reliant people, unfettered by the compromises that bound the multi-species government together, and therefore stronger. His voice seemed unnaturally loud. “No While the Thraki people would otherwise welcome such an alliance, the price is too high.”
Nankool felt a profound sense of disappointment. He looked around the room, scanned each face, and came to Andragna’s. “I’m sorry to hear that. Admiral—sorry for your people as well as ours. This meeting is over—may the deities protect us.”
The Sheen shuttle made no attempt to obtain a clearance from the Friendship’s traffic control computer. It simply followed the shortest possible route in, slid the length of the battleship’s starboard side, and approached the launch bay as if entitled to do so. It was a dangerous thing to do under normal circumstances but with the battleship at the highest state of alert it verged on suicidal. Captain Boone’s command chair whined as he swiveled to the left. More than two dozen cameras covered the launch bay. He checked number sixteen. It showed the hatch through which the shuttle would soon enter, “All batteries will hold their fire ... The Sheen will receive the same courtesies extended to the Thralki.”
The naval officer sensed a presence and turned to find Admiral Chang at his side. She offered a fresh mug of coffee. “So, are we having fun yet?”
He accepted the cup. “No, ma’am. The Sheen are crazy.”
“Machines,” the senior officer replied cheerfully. “You can’t live with ‘em—and you can’t live without
‘cm.”
Meanwhile, oblivious to what the humans thought, the Hoon commanded its fleet, flew the Sheen shuttle, and controlled the onboard security units. Everything and everyone with the exception of Jepp, Veera, and Sam.
The Hoon executed a sharp left-hand turn and entered the battleship’s bay. It was far less automated than the AI considered to be appropriate. After all, why rely on biologicals when machines were available? All of which served to confirm the conclusion already arrived at: Negotiations were a waste of time, and the fleet should attack. The conclusion was logical, eminently so, but the Hoon took no action. A very un-Hoonlike thing to do. Had the computer intelligence been capable of greater introspection it might have wondered why and sought to understand. But it wasn’t, couldn’t, and didn’t. Programming is programming, and where computers are concerned, as immutable as DNA. Careless of what the Hoon thought, Jepp was on a high. Veera, to whom a lot of his babbling was directed, ignored most of his commentary. The occasional “yes” or “no” was sufficient to keep him happy. In spite of the fact that the Prithian might have been able to remain aboard the Ninja, she had decided to come, and observe what took place.
Though inconclusive thus far, her research regarding the Sheen had proved quite interesting, as had her evaluation of Thraki society. “Markets derive from economic principles,” her father liked to say, “but are influenced by culture. That’s why you must understand each in order to profit.”
The merchant was gone now. but his lessons lived on.