All the animated signs, whether attached to habitats or free-floating, displayed the images of wriggling female Sirians. Thousands of them.
The General gasped. The henchman pulled the curtains shut.
«If you attempt to attack us, not the slightest remnant of your fleet will survive.» Annadelle's voice had gone metallic.
«We do not fear death,» the General grated. «We carry planet-bursters; if necessary we will blind ourselves and attack on autopilot. We are not the weaklings you take us for.»
«No? Then think about this. No matter how many of us you kill, a few human ships will survive. We know where your home world lies. The clouds that lie above the World Muck would make excellent projection substrates. Do you get my drift?»
* * *
When the last Sirian vessel had passed beyond the Oort Cloud, Natty Looper received another summons to Annadelle Rostov's office.
Her henchman seemed to be elsewhere.
She greeted him with an apparently genuine warmth and signed over his large performance bonus with cheerful gratitude.
She did not immediately usher him to the door, and he regarded her with a frankly speculative expression.
«What?» she asked. A little color rose in her cheeks; she deemed very appealing. But also very dangerous.
«Oh, nothing,» he said finally.
At that moment he felt a tiny pang of sympathy for the General.