by Jean Johnson
“That will be tough to do without bombing their infrastructure as well as their fleets,” Nayak stated, looking over at the K’Katta. A rapid clicking sound emerged from two of them, but no translator box activated. He looked over to the Tlassians. “I don’t like the idea of bombing civilians. It goes against my beliefs as a warrior, that fighting should be restricted to those who are trained. That fighting should be done away from cities and settlements so that the innocent and the helpless do not suffer.
“But I cannot even look at your people without remembering that we could not do anything to stop that fleet from heading to Glau,” he told her. “We might have been able to meet it, maybe damaged it at a great cost of many ships lost on our side, if not all of them. But we could not stop it before it was launched. We can, however, stop future fleets before they are built. That, I will fight to prevent. It must not happen again.”
His attaché, Major Tang-Smith, spoke. “One of our greatest military minds of our ancient days, Sun Tzu, wrote that it is good to stop a war by winning all the battles, but that it is better to stop it with the fewest number of battles, and best to stop future battles with armies long before they can even begin to gather their supplies. We must stop the next Salik ships, the next Salik armored suits, the next Salik plans from being made.”
The Tlassian Work Leader stared back a long moment, then dipped her head to the side. “. . . We will support the choissce of our Terran allies.”
She looked at the red-scaled male to her right. Warlord Tennssach eyed the Terrans and tipped his head as well. “We have the perrrmisssion of the Workerss. The Warriorrs have the willl to fight. We willl battle flleet to flleet and misssiles to mannnufactorries.”
“Our Priesssts will turn ourrr inner eyess to sseeking suitablle tarrgetss,” the third member of their triumvirate promised. “But will the Terrrran priessts do the sssame, Ambasssadorr?”
“Precognition is the hardest gift to master, meioa,” Jackie reminded him. “We have always known that. The future is fluid, and subject to many shapes and many changes. It is like water, in that it is too difficult to grasp in more than briefly snatched handfuls. But we are paying close attention these days, working with the military and the government—with our own warriors and workers—and will share anything we can make sense of whenever we can. We will try to have clairvoyants and xenopaths available for spying on the lands and scrying the minds of the enemy.”
“Then the Priesssts will agrree to yourrr plann.”
All three clasped their hands in front of their chests, and the Warlord spoke formally, almost ritually. “All arrrre in agreemennt in thisss. It willl be donne.”
“See we clear-eyed this path. Rough but flightworthy,” the Fearsome Leader on the other side of the darkened glass stated. “Ships of the void we lend to the fleet. Nothing else can we give in safety of carbon-based life. Yet of the manufactured weapons, such weapons are of sameness. Such elements we can detect. We lend our ships for the scouting flight, fast-soaring, fast-seeing. Great is the risk.
“We do not like bombs striking worlds. This a tactic is of the Salik,” the alien added, resting his hands against the window, long outer fingers pressing down to their tips. “No use to them is Chinsoiy life. No feeding of biology. Destruction strikes our skies in repetition. You will have teachings given of wrongfulness this act, lessons of harshness. Children struck is wrong, yet some children only feel, cannot reason. They taught must be by feeling/feeling/feeling of pain, of negative conditioning. They taught must be in swiftest flight, to end all destruction soonest and best.
“We commit our leaps to these regretful clouds, these saddened peaks, these harmful skies.”
(Well said, even if the grammar mangles High Imperial V’Dan,) Jackie breathed in the back of Li’eth’s mind. (And here I thought the Gatsugi could be poetic . . .)
(You do realize they used a Gatsugi emphasis,) he murmured back, though his own underthoughts agreed with hers.
“Well?” Grand General Ma’touk asked, his attention on the remaining delegation. “Do you agree to our course of action, President Marbleheart? Or do you and your people abstain?”
Again, that rapid, high chitter-clicking that had no translation. Not just from the dark-furred leader of the K’Katta nation but from the others in his delegation. They even rocked a little on their elevated stools, looking too agitated to sit still.
Jackie squinted a little, invoking her—Li’eth’s—awareness of auras. The colors that swirled around the arthropoid aliens were all colors of ambivalence and distress, striated and muddy-bright. Turbulent. But as she watched, the aura of their leader slowed and solidified into a rather odd shade of grayish violet. A grimly determined shade, Li’eth’s awareness informed her, seeping through their bond. Marbleheart reached out with secondary forelegs, touching and stroking the nearer limbs of his companions. Soothing them.
When he spoke, the well-programmed translator box conveyed his words with quiet finality. “. . . We will fight. We will not permit another Glau. Not now, and not in the future. But neither will we allow Sallha to become another Glau. Your acceptance into the Alliance requires confirmation by all members . . . and the K’Katta will watch how you treat your enemies, to know some of how you will treat your friends,” he warned Jackie, Nayak, and their two junior officers. “We will be watching you. Climb carefully, in the days ahead.”
Jackie could not fault him for that, given what she knew of K’Katta psychology so far. But she lifted her fingers off the table surface when Nayak drew in a breath to speak, silencing him. This was her purview, not his. “Do not let your species-wide distaste for conflict prejudice you against our efforts, Meioa President. We do try to act with honor and compassion . . . but neither will we cut off a limb just to keep it from attacking someone that has proved to be a relentless foe.
“Nor will we allow anyone else to cut off one of our limbs,” she added, sitting forward, her gaze fixed on the brown-furred leader, for once able to look past his appearance to the mind inside that multieyed head. “Do not let your prejudices blind your seeing to our actions. Do not let your preferences close your hearing to our words.
“The Chinsoiy are right. We must consider what to do after we have won . . . when the Salik are beaten, but still alive. We do not have enough bombs to destroy the Salik homeworld,” she finished.
Nayak cleared his throat. “Apologies, Ambassador . . . but technically, we do. The lack of radiation would not be a concern . . . but nuclear winter would, with enough carbon blasted into the stratosphere from ground-contact explosions. The Salik are more susceptible to temperature fluctuations than Humans, Solaricans, and the K’Katta.”
She looked over at him, grateful for his honesty, even as it gave her a moment of embarrassment in front of others. Saving face, she clarified dryly, “That we would use, Admiral. We have enough in orbit around Earth to destroy it five times via nuclear winter, but we will be facing several Salik-only colonyworlds, each with a military-industrial complex capable of cranking out extra problems for our fleets. They must be dealt with, and so we do not have enough to destroy all of the Salik worlds. Nor would the Council allow that!”
“My apologies, Ambassador. I did not realize you were fully informed of our capacities,” Nayak murmured. “I do think it is still an option as a threat, Ambassador. An option our allies should know about.”
It felt a tiny bit awkward, accepting an apology over a military matter from a man who, in the military, was technically her superior. Yet in that moment, in that role, she was his superior, as a duly appointed representative of their representational government, and the personally appointed proxy to the Premiere, their commander-in-chief. “Admiral Nayak. Please remember in the future that there is an ethical difference between discretion and lying.
“I do not lie to my allies, and am not allowed to lie outright to any enemies unless it is to save lives. But while I m
ust not lie to these people, I am allowed to be discreet, Admiral. That includes choosing not to mention we can turn the Salik Motherworld, if only that one world, to rubble. That ability, Admiral, for all we hold it,” she stressed, “is not the choice of the Council.”
He lowered his gaze. “. . . Yes, Ambassador. My apologies, Ambassador. The Space Force will abide by the choices of the Terran Council.”
“Apology accepted.” Jackie knew the others were giving her and her chief military advisor curious looks, seeing a side to Terran politics versus Terran expediency and capability that was not normally publicly aired. A deliberately aired side, in this case. She raised her voice back to normal discussion levels and returned to the topic with barely any acknowledgment. “. . . With all of that settled, we will need to focus now on troop and supply movements. We have the schedules and timetables for the Salik attacks.
“Those by their very nature will dictate our movements,” Jackie continued. “We need only decide which ships to move to which location to counter them. The choice of which infrastructure elements to take out and in which order on which world must also be decided at this meeting.”
“We/Each of us must/will send for/fetch the latest/freshest reports/scans/information for that/the targets,” President Anoddra asserted. “Such/That may/will take/require time. Send/Send/Send for/fetch the reports/information, and/then fill/use/work in the time/waiting period to discuss/coordinate fleet/ship movements/choices. A break/moment to rest/stretch/de-stress can/should be used/utilized now/at this time.”
“That would be a good use of our limited time, President Light-Hopes-Many-Shadows,” Li’eth praised their host. “Remember, meioas, to use your Terran codes and Terranglo code-talkers when ordering reports to be sent here over the hyperrelays. We may have Terran satellites at every inhabited planet in this system, but there is still quite a lot of empty space within this system for the enemy to sit unnoticed while they eavesdrop. Those satellites must be reached by lightwave communications, which can be cracked if we use the more normal Alliance means to communicate through them.”
“We should allso consider dividinng each fleet attack by who cannn reach it besst,” the Choya military representative stated. “One of thessse worlds is nnear my home colllony, but allso near the K’Katta.”
“Agreed,” the Commander-of-Millions concurred.
“We will/Let us break for sixteen khanas,” the Gatsugi President stated, and changed the image of the known galaxy on the screens to one of a timer counting down in V’Dan numerals.
Jackie rose to stretch her legs a little, always a good idea when stuck in a seated job for any length of time. President Marbleheart climbed down from his stool perch and moved over behind the Gatsugi and Choya delegations, approaching her. (Great. His aura looks like he wants a confrontation, and now I’m back to feeling creepy creepy creepy-ness.)
(You can do this. He won’t yell at you,) Li’eth added in silent, encouraging support. (You will be fine.)
“Meioa Ambassador. I have an important question for your people,” Marbleheart chittered through his translator. “If you have enough of these hydrobombs to destroy your species’ Motherworld five times over, how do you plan to dispose of any unused weapons?”
The question was such a non sequitur, and a nonissue, that it took her aback. Blinking, she replied, “Once their water tanks are drained, they are harmless, meioa. They will not explode. Nor can they explode even when hit, unless and until the catalytic process of converting water back to hydrogen and oxygen has been activated.”
“Yes, but the catalyst is dangerous,” Marbleheart insisted, only to pause when she shook her head, still bemused.
“Sorry, but no, Meioa President. The catalyst by itself is also fairly harmless. Even if you dropped the catalyst directly into an ocean, it would only be able to convert a small amount of water to base gases before those gases would become dissolved into the rest of the water. It is the entire process of the engine, not just the catalyst, that causes the explosion to be, well, explosive.”
“But the catalyst is still a danger. You will disassemble these bombs, yes?” he pressed, lifting a foreleg to touch her sleeve.
For a moment, it was all Jackie could do not to leap back with her body and shove away with her mind. Swallowing, she clamped down on her arachnophobia, breathing deep, staring through the alien so that she could not focus on any one feature, but not looking away and letting the corners of her eyes play tricks on her, either.
(You can do this,) Li’eth soothed her. (He will not harm you, trust me on this.)
(I know, I know . . . creepy creepy booting modo creepy . . .) Breathing deep again, she managed a reply. “The water, as I said, will be drained from the tanks. The catalyst and suitable engine components will be reused in communications satellites wherever possible since the bombs are literally satellites without hyperarrays and communications circuitry. If there is excess beyond what we need, then the catalyst will be recycled back into more normal hydrogenerator engines for use in vehicles, starships, and so forth. It is, after all, a catalyst. It can and will be reused tens of thousands of times before it even begins to degrade past usability.”
The alien stared up at her a long moment, then bobbed slightly, legs flexing. “Good,” he whistled. “I will hold you to your statement that you do not lie. Please excuse me. I must discuss other matters with the War Princess, next.”
Relieved he moved on, Jackie tried not to let her flesh crawl too much at the thought of the giant-spider-style alien being somewhere behind her back for a few moments. (I will be grateful when we’re finally at a point where I can have someone else deal with the K’Katta in all things, in my stead.)
(You did very well in dealing with them, mid-debate,) he reminded her.
She closed her eyes, nodding subtly on the outside, more strongly on the inside. (I was mad enough, I could look past his physical shape to who he is on the inside . . . I will try to remember that feeling so I can continue to successfully deal with his kind.)
(A pity they’re not very argumentative, or it would be easier each time,) he tried teasing lightly.
A soft, brief laugh escaped her. Shaking her head, Jackie opened her eyes to find each of the Choya studying her. Not in suspicion, just eyeing her in curiosity, from the looks of the delegates’ auras. Finally, one of them spoke.
“Meioa Ambassadorr. You make movemment with your facess when you ssspeak mind to mmind,” one of the junior delegates stated. “We have nno such thing among our kinnd, thisss mind-to-minnd. I would innquire, what iss that feelling?”
(. . . And a diplomat’s work is never done, since I must now represent the Psi League and all the psychic sects of the Witan Orders.) Breathing deep to clear her mind and body one last time of the lingering aftereffects of her arachnophobia, Jackie readied herself to explain to a nontelepath what telepathy was like. “Imagine someone speaking just behind your ear, your hearing organ. Not very loudly, but definitely closer than anyone else normally speaks. Next, imagine that this sound is sensed inside your body, and not coming from outside it, and not in the voice you use when thinking your thoughts . . .”
CHAPTER 11
Almost an hour later, with every available screen displaying a different star system from the rest, General Ma’touk sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, just below a jungen mark. “This still isn’t going to work. Not quickly enough. Not decisively enough.”
Jackie knew how he felt. Her own fingertips had massaged her temples a few moments before, but it hadn’t helped. The military and civilian leaderships present in the conference room had hashed out most of the plans they could, dividing forces, assigning fleets . . . but even with the Terrans’ help, they just did not have enough ships, enough resources. “We’re building ships as fast as we can, meioa, and our shipyards are not under any threat by Salik forces, so we can keep building them and sending them out. But w
e can only build them so fast, and we can only train our pilots so fast.”
“It woulld worrk betterr if we had enough bommbs,” War Princess Pallan muttered. She quickly held up her arm, palm and claws toward herself, to forestall protests from the K’Katta. “Nnot to use, but to thrrreaten them into submissionn.”
Nayak sighed, forearms resting on the curved table edge, head drooped a little in exhaustion. Somehow, his Dress Cap remained in place, the only one of the four Terrans to still be wearing one. Like Jackie and Paea, Tang-Smith had removed her uniform cap from her matching dull green headscarf, and had even unbuttoned her jacket, revealing the white shirt underneath as she slumped back in her chair. But it was Simon Paea, sitting up sharply from his own slouch, that caught their attention. Specifically, with a single word.
“Nagasaki.”
“. . . Lieutenant?” Jackie asked, distracted by his non sequitur. Beside her, Nayak lifted his head, peering past her at their juniormost officer.
“Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the two cities in Japan destroyed by the first atomic bombs,” Simon stated. “The first two atomic bombs. The only two atomic bombs of their day.”
“Your point, soldier?” Nayak asked dryly.
“What did the Americans tell the Japanese they would do to the rest of their cities that got them to surrender?” Simon prompted them.
Jackie’s eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, yes, it’s perfect . . .”
Major Tang-Smith sat up, her brown eyes widening just as much. “It’s not just perfect, it’s brilliant, Lieutenant. It’s been done before, but even an old trick can still be a perfectly good trick . . .”
President Marbleheart chirped, tapping a foreleg on the surface of his own bit of curved table to get their attention. “Meioa Terrans. Would you please explain what esoteric thing you are discussing? You seem to be placing great emphasis on it, as if it is our salvation, but it lacks any meaningful context for the rest of us.”