Subsequent to this ferocious demonstration, the inhabitants requested some time to contemplate their limited alternatives. While any military prowess on their part remained undetermined, they proved expert in the arts of obfuscation and delay. Eventually the patience of the Falan, never extensive to begin with, ran out.
This happened to coincide with the arrival of a fleet of fifty warships, which was considerably more than the two dozen or so the Empire could muster. When informed that this was a scouting force sent to determine the precise nature of the threat that had been levied against Drax, and that the main armada of the so-called Commonwealth had not even been assembled, consternation and despair among the Falan was followed by reluctant but unavoidable capitulation.
Gorelkii and his frustrated fellow career officers would have preferred to test the strength of the enemy warships in battle. As for the claim that they represented only a scouting force, such alien assertions could not be verified. They might be composed of nothing more than bluster on the part of the inhabitants of Drax. But Gorelkii and his comrades had been overridden by the Polity of the Three Suns, whose fear of utter annihilation if hostilities commenced was a realistic extrapolation based on their own fractious racial history.
“The Falan must be preserved,” he had been informed solemnly. “We will build our strength in secret, improve our weapons, advance our science. In time we will throw off the yoke of the enemy and carry the battle to its homeworlds.”
Fifty warships, he thought as he sat behind the glittering crescent moon. Scouting force. It was scarce to be believed. When queried, the inhabitants of Drax IV had declined to elaborate on the actual size and extent of their mysterious “Commonwealth.” Though not looking forward to negotiating the formal terms of surrender, Gorelkii knew that it would buy the Falan time to learn exactly what they were up against. Learning that, they would be able to prepare their inevitable unstoppable response.
Adjutant Bardanat entered through the wide, arched entrance of rippling metal. The muscles of his heavy bipedal form bulged beneath his gleaming uniform and his small black eyes glittered beneath a single thrust of projecting bone. One tri-fingered hand snapped ceilingward in salute. His tone was its usual clipped, wholly professional self, save for what Gorelkii took to be a touch of bemusement.
“The diplomatic representatives of the Commonwealth are here, Grand Admiral.” Bardanat hesitated and his voice lost some of its formal stress. “They are… they are…”
“Well, pour it out, Adjutant! What are they?”
Bardanat’s fleshy eyefolds contracted in his species’ equivalent of a blink. “Not what I expected, Admiral.”
Gorelkii snorted through the single large respiratory opening set high in the center of his chest and below his thick neck. The nostril was framed by ribbons of valor that had been permanently encased in gleaming protective transparencies. The color tint of each transparency indicated the level of accomplishment that accented each ribbon.
“It doesn’t matter what you expected, or I. We must deal with them.” He gestured with a powerful, double-jointed arm. “Admit them.”
He readied himself. Though his people had been defeated without a shot having been fired, a missile being unleashed, or an energy beam deployed, he would attempt to bargain as an equal. The Admiral could rant and rave with the most voluble politician. He could be out-argued, but he could not be intimidated. It was one of the reasons he had been chosen to head the negotiations. It was universally conceded among the Polity that no one in the Empire was likely to obtain better terms than Grand Admiral Gorelkii.
Steeping to the left, Adjutant Bardanat assumed a position of ready respect. Legs contracted, upper body straight and stiff, eyes forward, he would hold that position until his muscles screamed for relief or Gorelkii directed him to stand down.
Two shapes were approaching from the far end of the formal antechamber, walking toward him from the towering main entry arch. Gorelkii could not keep from tensing. What would they demand? How would they treat him personally? What kind of confrontational species had the resources to send forth a force of fifty warships merely to scout a confrontation?
When at last the pair finally halted before the curve of the crescent moon, he was shocked by their size. The spindly, big-eyed one he knew from images sent back from Drax. Presently standing on four limbs with another four upraised, it inclined feathery antennae in his direction. A bright blue-green in color, it looked fragile and harmless.
Though bipedal like the Falan, the creature standing beside the thranx appeared even less threatening. So soft was it that one could actually see bits of its exposed flesh moving after it had come to a stop. A strange white growth emerged from the top of its skull and also covered much of the lower half of its face. It would take little effort, Gorelkii thought, to crush them both, splintering the thranx-thing and smashing its taller companion to a pulp.
Should he give in to the natural impulse, however, he knew it would put something of a damper on the forthcoming negotiations. He forced down his instinctive feelings and kept his massive three-fingered hands locked together in front of him.
Lumbering forward, Bardanat checked to make sure the translator positioned in front of his cutting teeth was operational before he began to declaim forcefully without looking to left or right. “I present to you Grand Admiral Gorelkii-vant, Destroyer of Worlds, Sovereign of the Nation-Clan Hasekar, Supreme Commander of the First Fleet Majestic, Defender of Empire, Scion of the Second Sun!”
His soft mouth parting to reveal tiny white teeth behind his own hair-thin translation device, the white-haired biped stepped forward and thrust a limb across the crystal arc in Gorelkii’s direction. “Hi, I’m Bill. William Chen-Khamsa, but my friends all call me Bill.” Gesturing at his hard-shelled companion, he added, “That’s the Eint Colvinyarev. He’s from Hivehom and I’m from Earth.”
Scuttling sideways, Adjutant Bardanat leaned slightly toward his commander and whispered. “The extended limb of the human creature, Grand Admiral. I believe you are supposed to make contact with the end.”
Baffled but adaptive, Gorelkii reached out with a massive hand. Unable with his more numerous but much smaller fingers to envelop it all, the human creature took two of the three thick proffered fingers and shook them up and down several times. Releasing its lightweight but assured grasp, it then stepped back.
“Pleased to meet you, Admiral.” Gesturing with its head, the being indicated Gorelkii’s expansive torso. “Are those awards on your chest? I don’t know their individual significance, of course, but even a visitor like myself can see that they’re very impressive!”
Flattery as an opening ploy, Gorelkii told himself. Somewhat unexpected, given that he was the supine party. He would not succumb to it of course. Still, there was no harm in utilizing his personal history to make an impact on this unimposing pair. He proceeded to do so.
When he had finished, the thranx dipped its head and antennae low in his direction. “Most impressive! I can see that the Polity of the Three Suns chose from among the best of your kind to represent them.”
“The Polity makes no mistakes!” Gorelkii’s voice reverberated through the vaulted, effusively decorated audience chamber. “Though we have surrendered to your forces, we have not been defeated, as no actual combat has taken place.”
“We agree absolutely.” Though massing far less than the average Falan, the human’s eyes were the same size. The Bill’s were blue, a color that fascinated Gorelkii. All Falan eyes were black or shades of very dark gray. “We consider ourselves fortunate to have escaped your wrath.”