Broghuilio appeared on the channel being maintained to Farside and announced that he intended taking command of the Giants' starship. "I will inform you when I have completed my assessment," he said. And with that, the link cut out.
The essence of gaining the controlling hand in this kind of situation lay in assertiveness. Freskel-Gar had acquiesced when Broghuilio tested his mettle by presuming to give orders. The thing now was to keep to the precedent. To have consulted first about taking over the Shapieron would have been tantamount to seeking approval, conceding Freskel-Gar the territory. Keeping the channel open would have been fitting for a subordinate reporting progress. Broghuilio would decide his course of action independently, in his own time as it suited him, and then announce it.
"Auxiliary compensators stabilized… Thrust vector balanced," the computer advised. "All ships ready to lift off."
The captain scanned the bridge-deck readouts. "Proceed."
Broghuilio stood watching, arms folded, as the side-view displays showed the other four craft shedding their coatings of rubble and dust as they rose from the lunar surface. Although the altering surface perspective showed his flagship to be climbing too, with inbuilt Thurien-type g-localizers there was no sensation of movement. The five ships formed into a V with the flagship at the head and turned onto a course directly outward from Luna, in the direction of the Shapieron. If he transferred his followers and installed the armaments now, the complications of having to land his ships on Minerva and then dispose of them there could perhaps be avoided. Why should they live like thieves in hiding among hostelries provided by Freskel-Gar, when they could base themselves in a functioning starship?
He had more running in his favor than just the weaponry, the ship, and knowledge of how to use them, Broghulio had decided. There was also the psychological factor. The Lambians and the Cerians walked around in uniforms, held exercises, and drew plans on maps, but they were still playing at being soldiers. He had the records of two thousand years of Earth's history to go on. Having been entrusted with its surveillance by the Thuriens had definite advantages.
So they were playing that kind of game, were they? Freskel-Gar was conscious of his staff officers around him, outwardly impassive but waiting to see his reaction. He reassessed his situation rapidly. The destruction of whatever the objects had been that Broguilio ordered taken out had demonstrated the potency of his weapons. But before the Giants' craft arrived, Broghuilio had been willing to join Lambia as an equal partner. Now, all of a sudden, he was foregoing all else to get his hands on the Giants' ship. So maybe there was some substance after all to Hunt's claim that it had things going for it that Broghuilio's ships didn't. Freskel-Gar was feeling less sure about the formidable ally that he had thought he could count on. He needed to improve his own bargaining position drastically.
"The Jevlenese general Wylott is asking what's happening," an aide reported, gesturing toward one of the consoles a short distance away. The transmission from the ships on Farside would have been lost at Dorjon also.
"Tell him we're looking into it," Freskel-Gar replied.
Broghuilio was not in control of the Giants' ship yet. Maybe there was a way of leveling the situation. Hadn't Hunt said something about the translating device being the starship's computer? It would presumably have a picture of the situation out there on the other side of the Moon that it might be disposed to share. If nothing else, that would show Freskel-Gar's staff that they didn't need to await Broghuilio's pleasure to be informed as to what was going on.
Freskel-Gar indicated the screen that had been displaying the starship. "Do we still have the connection via that shuttle they landed in that's standing out back?"
The colonel checked with the engineering chief. "It's still there. There's just nothing coming over it."
"Can we activate it somehow?"
The engineering chief moved behind the chairs of the operators manning a section of equipment. "It seemed to be voice driven." He raised his tone and addressed a grille. "Hello?… Testing?… This is Melthis calling the ship." There was no response.
"Try Cerian," someone suggested. "The aliens spoke some Cerian." It did no good.
"How about these?" Another engineer produced the collection of headbands, ear pieces, and wrist sets that had been taken from the captives. Nothing worked.
"There's probably some kind of activation code word," the engineering chief said.
Freskel-Gar frowned in annoyance. "Is that human who wanted to talk to it still out there?" he asked. "The one called Hunt."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Bring him back in."
The colonel went out to the ante-room and came back with Hunt. Using signs and words, the engineering chief explained the problem. Hunt turned to the grille that was connected to the channel being relayed through the shuttle.
"ZORAC?"
"Yes, Vic?" a voice replied.
ZORAC integrated the data from its external sensors to compose a representation of the five Jevlenese vessels closing in around the Shapieron to command it from all sides. As instructed by Garuth before he and the others evacuated the ship, ZORAC had opened the main docking bay doors. As it watched, processing and evaluating the incoming data, three things happened simultaneously.
A communications processor forwarded a message received via the probe positioned to provide a signal path around the Moon. It was an acknowledgment from the Lambian embassy in Osserbruk, the Cerian capital. This was ZORAC's latest try at getting through to the Cerian President's Office, after its attempt via the National Aerospace Directorate hadn't worked.
Vic Hunt reappeared, after a long delay, on the channel to the shuttle that had landed in Melthis.
And the Jevlenese leader, Broghuilio, initiated contact over the link that Garuth had told ZORAC to keep open to the Jevlenese flagship. "I am calling the Shapieron."
"Shapieron. I hear you," ZORAC replied.
"Am I talking to the ship's controlling AI?"
"You are."
"We are about to come aboard, as was previously advised."
"I understand."
"Confirm that the vessel had been evacuated of all occupants."
"Confirmed." They were now in the surface lander that had withdrawn far outside the screen of Jevlenese ships. Garuth had yielded to the threat of violence against those down on the surface. ZORAC concluded that bioforms had their built-in operating directives too.
Broghuilio appeared less sure of the fact, however. ZORAC read the expression, pattern of muscles tensions, and intonations of voice that it had learned to associate with human uncertainty and apprehension. "I just wish to remind you of the fate of the Thurien devices that appeared here immediately before the Shapieron," Broghuilio said. "The weapons responsible are trained on your ship, and also on the lander that is standing off outside the limit. We expect to be received aboard the Shapieron without interference or any clever surprises. I hope the implications are clear. Do I make myself understood?"