"Yes, sir. They have quite similar technology. And sir, we have cubes sent by Grand Admiral Quanshuk, with a player designed to play them. One of them contains the Terran/Wyzhnynyc translation program. Another has a Wyzhnynyc/Terran program based on it, which hasn't been tested. The third is a message to the president and yourself, recorded by the grand admiral, and translated by his shipsmind. If you'd take time to hear it… "
The prime minister cut him short. "Thank you, Mr. MacDonald. For now we'll proceed as I'd planned, and hear the grand admiral's message later." He looked at Qonits. "The reason will become clear." He glanced at the others around the table. "Now if you will put your attention on the wall screen, please."
The humans swiveled their chairs-Qonits already nearly faced it-and Peixoto touched his key pad. A freeze frame appeared on the screen, showing a dark-complected youth lying on a couch, seemingly asleep. "Mr. Ambassador," Peixoto said, "this young man is my savant communicator. When I run the recording, you will hear him speak. In several voices. He is analogous to a radio, but channels over interstellar distances"-he paused meaningfully-"over interstellar distances with no elapsed time. None. And what he will say is a duplication of conversations on board your flagship. Do you understand so far?"
Qonits nodded uncertainly. Interstellar distances? No elapsed time? The words seemed clear enough, but impossible.
"Good," Peixoto said, and pressed another key. Ramesh's mouth moved, and words came from the speaker-the fitness board proceedings, as hybridized and channeled by Annika Pedersen. None of the listeners spoke. David MacDonald's jaw went slack. He understood almost none of the Wyzhnynyc, but the rest…
Initially Qonits stiffened, but as the hearing progressed, he wilted. When the replay was over, it was the president who spoke, his voice soft. "Mr. Ambassador," he said, "we realize what a shock this has been to you. You have my profound sympathy."
Again the chief scholar gave the Wyzhnyny equivalent of a nod, saying nothing. Except for the first few seconds, he'd had little difficulty with its hybridized content. The Wyzhnynyc diction, and the sense of speaker identity, had been reproduced surprisingly well.
When it was over, he simply sat, and after a long moment spoke, aware that the humans had been waiting.
"Is there more? There must be more."
Chang nodded. "Yes. We have no record of the later proceedings, but we do have a recording of something else that seems important." He paused, turning. "Those of you from War House and Cee Ministry, please go to the waiting room. What follows is personal. I'll call you back shortly."
David watched frowning as they left. What was this about? Qonits waited numbly. When they were alone with the president and prime minister, Chang nodded, and Peixoto played the next section, the one in which Yukiko was questioned. It left little doubt: Annika, and almost surely Yukiko, were dead. David MacDonald was pale and stony as marble.
"David, we are terribly sorry," Chang said quietly. Peixoto said nothing at all; didn't trust his control. David's nod was wooden. I should have known it would come to that, he thought. It was inevitable. All of it. This mission was a charade, by an admiral trying to convince himself, and two fools who wanted to believe.
After half a minute, the president spoke again. "I will call the others back in now. There are questions that must be looked at." The people from War House and the Commonwealth Ministry had heard the entire cube before. He'd sent them out as a courtesy to David, in case he broke down.
They did not question Qonits at length, but they did play Quanshuk's cube. Then they reviewed possibilities they'd discussed before, and the conclusions they'd drawn, asking Qonits for clarifications, and his opinions. The chief scholar's comments were brief but informative.
Peixoto's closing comment was to Qonits: "Mr. Ambassador, your grand admiral was correct in believing we prefer negotiation to war. We do not wish to destroy your people, nor be destroyed by them. When your fleet has been smashed, perhaps the survivors will agree to terms. Then you will have a major role in this."
Peixoto didn't actually lie, but he didn't imagine that terms could be agreed on, even assuming that Soong's Commos won the battle to come. For he knew things that Qonits still did not. The armada had stopped very briefly in the fringes of two more inhabited systems, departing quickly without attacking, leaving only their emergence signatures. Clearly, Charley had been right: They'd decided to postpone further conquests, and were inbound with the intention of forcing a showdown, a final battle. Given their new rate of progress, they'd reach the Eridani System in about three weeks. The Eridani System had a home-grown population of nearly two billion, a bevy of universities, burgeoning industries-and millions of colonial evacuees, armed and more or less trained.
Soong and his Commos would be there, waiting with reinforcements, and Charley Gordon was refining a strategy and tactics to include the new spook drones, whose functions were deception and confusion.
With the new weapons and Charley Gordon, there was still a chance. The Admiralty thought so and Soong thought so. The Altai's shipsmind rated it one in four, and War House's AI agreed. Charley Gordon rated it even. "Wait and see," he'd said. "If we survive the first phase, we will beat them."
Peixoto had never known Charley Gordon to fool himself, but in this situation he might. Because this will be the final battle, Peixoto told himself, with everything at stake. And it is on Charley's shoulders. The pressure will not break him, but it might bend his judgement.
Chang, on the other hand, believed the Tao wanted humanity to survive, and therefore that it would. And of course if all else failed, there was Project Noah.
David and Qonits sat in the palace guest suite they shared, neither speaking at first. Finally David suggested they have something to drink, something alcoholic, and diagrammed the ethanol molecule, elaborating. Qonits nodded. Ethanol was the active ingredient in most Wyzhnyny liquors. Then David asked their marine orderly to send for dark rum.
The orderly, who wore a stunner and a lance corporal's stripe, seemed a competent young man. Qonits assumed the stunner was a weapon, and the marine as much guard as orderly, but the chief scholar did not feel threatened. And rightly. The lance corporal had been warned that a stunner was lethal to Wyzhnyny. He was there to defend his charges, and forbidden to use it on the ambassador under any circumstances, however desperate.
Another lance corporal delivered the bottle. Each "guest" took a drink; both marines declined. David took his straight. Qonits sipped his with water, but drank nonetheless.
"So it will only be a few weeks," David said. "Who do you suppose will win?"
"The grand admiral feared that you would, eventually," Qonits answered. "Your resources are enormous."
"But your fleet is enormous," David replied, "and we have not been a warlike species for a very long time."
"Perhaps not. But your battlecomps have proven much better than ours, and you have robot cruisers that can maneuver-" he failed to come up with the word "evasively," so he zigzagged a hand. "And obtaining target locks requires milliseconds-not an easy matter when a target moves erratically at such speeds." He paused, then added: "Also your shields are stronger."
David still had trouble imagining an effective Commonwealth fleet. Certainly not one so quickly constructed and trained. He peered thoughtfully at Qonits, who sipped his rum again.
"We lost many more fighting ships than you did," Qonits continued. "And a majority of our ships are not fighting ships."
It occurred to David that the chief scholar would be keeping those things to himself, if he thought there was any chance at all of meaningful negotiation. And the prime minister had told Qonits about the savants, which he wouldn't have done if he expected to negotiate.