Henry nodded. Humanity had been moving towards a cultural union, some claimed, when space travel and interstellar settlement had become commonplace. These days, there were worlds that attempted to build and maintain a national character — or a religious harmony — that had never really existed on Earth. There had always been ideas creeping in from outside the cultural consensus. But an isolated settlement might be able to maintain a cultural stasis that would endure for thousands of years.
He shivered, remembering some of the debates over religious-themed asteroids. Was it right to allow disparate groups to settle their own asteroids, keeping their people isolated from any outside influences? And then there had been the inevitable accusations of racism and attacks on religious liberty…
“So the War Faction determined we were a threat and took steps to deal with us,” the Admiral mused. “And the other factions did… what?”
Henry hesitated. “I think, sir, that the other factions were partly convinced,” he said. “We might not be too happy if the situation was reversed and they landed on one of our worlds. But once the war started going badly — and we didn’t act like monsters — the other factions started having second thoughts. They wanted to at least try to talk to us.”
“Good God,” the Admiral said. “And the War Faction tried to stop them — twice, now.”
“Yes, sir,” Henry said.
The civilian leaned forward. “I’m going to have to go through everything you saw very carefully, Your Highness,” she said. “Hopefully, we can actually talk to the aliens you brought with you.”
“They’re Ambassadors,” Henry said. Or he thought they were. The concept hadn’t been easy to discuss. “But I’m not entirely sure which factions they represent.”
“I assume they didn’t show you anything militarily useful,” the Admiral stated.
“No,” Henry confirmed. The aliens hadn’t shown him anything he could use against them, except — perhaps — what he’d learned of their culture. “I have no idea where they held us — or even how long it was since the battle.”
“Two months,” the Admiral said.
Henry shook his head in disbelief. It had felt longer. Much longer.
The Admiral cleared his throat. “We also need to move from this location,” he added. “By now, the aliens on Target One will be aware of our presence. They will probably start screaming for help.”
“Yes, sir,” Henry said. “I believe the aliens will accompany us, if necessary.”
The Admiral looked down at the table. “I’d prefer to head further into alien space,” he said. slowly. “I don’t think anyone would thank us for bringing an alien ship home.”
“They did on your first mission,” Henry pointed out. But there was something odd about the way the Admiral spoke, as if he was contemplating something he didn’t want to think about. “But I think the aliens will be happy to escort you elsewhere.”
“No doubt,” the civilian said. “I believe the other factions will be just as monomaniacal as the War Faction, just focused on different issues. A faction that wants peace will be quite likely to do whatever it takes to get peace.”
Henry considered it, briefly. There were no shortage of diplomats who were willing to make whatever concessions seemed necessary to get the other side to sign on the dotted line, even though the concessions were dangerously one-sided. Diplomats hated to admit they’d failed, even when their negotiating partners were intractable. But he hadn’t seen that sort of insane single-mindedness from his captors, although he had to admit it was hard to be sure. The aliens hadn’t tried to actually negotiate with him.
Will they offer us concessions to keep us talking to them, he asked himself, or will they demand them from us to satisfy the other factions?
“Let us hope so,” the Admiral said. He looked at Henry. “Janelle will escort you to your new quarters, Your Highness. I’m afraid I can’t put you back on the flight roster right now.”
“No, sir,” Henry said, reluctantly. It had been foolish, but part of him had dared to hope he could pass the diplomacy to the Admiral and return to a cockpit. “Will I be able to speak to some of the other flyers?”
“Not all survived,” Janelle said, very quietly. “Most of the pilots you knew were transferred elsewhere, in the wake of the Battle of Earth.”
Henry started. “They attacked Earth?”
“Yes,” the Admiral said. “And that will make peace negotiations very difficult.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ted had never taken part in high-level diplomatic meetings before the war. Afterwards, when he’d been promoted to Admiral, most of his meetings had been little more than formalities, setting the seal on matters discussed and agreed by lower-ranking diplomats. He hadn’t regretted it. Diplomats could spend hours discussing something of minor importance, laying the groundwork for later — more serious — discussions, while military officers had little time to debate their decisions. Being a commanding officer of a starship was much simpler.
But this was different.
He watched through the monitors as human and alien diplomats met for the first time. None of the humans looked particularly comfortable, although that might have been because of the alien environmental requirements rather than coming face to face with the aliens themselves. Ted had a hunch the aliens were just as uncomfortable as their human counterparts, just for different reasons. They’d probably prefer to be under the water, rather than half-sitting, half-standing in atmosphere, no matter how hot and moist the atmosphere was.
“It’s working better than I hoped,” Polly said, from where she was standing beside him. “It will be a long time before we have perfect translators, but between us we’ve managed to close the gap to the point we can actually talk to them and vice versa.”
Ted nodded. The diplomats were talking in what amounted to baby talk and the aliens were doing it right back, often using computer displays to draw out what they meant, but it seemed to be working. There was no time to use fancy words, let alone draw up an elaborate treaty, not when time was steadily ticking away. Who knew when the War Faction would send more ships into the system?
He looked at Polly. “Are you sure this is reliable?”
“We did a lot of work, they did a lot of work… I think this is the best we can do, for the moment,” Polly confessed. “I’ve been working with a couple of aliens on building up a shared system, but that’s been going slowly. Their computer designs aren’t that different from ours, Admiral, yet some of the underlying programs and operating systems are very different. The techs think the aliens don’t have any concept of a decentralised computer system, let alone a secure database.”
“They must have something for classified information,” Ted objected. He looked back towards the diplomats — and, standing at the other side of the compartment, the observers. Several of them were Russians. “Or don’t they even have a concept of classified data?”
“Unknown,” Polly said. “But they may not have anything of the sort, Admiral. They don’t think the way we do.”
Ted frowned. It was true enough that governments had a habit of trying to classify data that could be embarrassing or cost them the next election, but it was also true that quite a bit of data was classified for extremely good reasons. The bioweapon formula, he knew, would be buried in the vaults once the war was over, particularly if it was never used. It would only upset people to learn how close the taboo on engineered bioweapons had come to being broken — and by world governments, at that.