Mylo NorbaBa was used to such excess. His words were both patient and respectful. ‘There was no translation. War Commander DomaSa spoke directly with me. He said the matter is urgent and of the highest importance.
Their shuttle has entered the atmosphere.”
IfanaKa adjusted his leg. “All right then, if we must, we must. Pass the word... the troops will stand down. We may as well feed them. Not for long mind you . . . We march two hours from now.”
A sudden gust of high altitude wind hit the shuttle’s hull. It rocked from side to side. The cargo compartment was empty except for the Trooper n that stood at the center of it, the Hudathan who overflowed a fold-down seat, and the orange exoskeleton secured toward the stem. Admiral Kagan had elected to ride up front with his pilots.
ChienChu felt his body tug against the cargo straps and questioned his own sanity. Was the trip to Hudatha’s surface truly necessary? So he could negotiate face to face? Or driven by curiosity? The desire to see the place that had given birth to such an implacable foe? He looked at DomaSa. “So, how would you rate our chances? Who sits on the Triad? And how will they react?”
The shuttle shuddered as the hull hit the bottom of an air pocket and continued to fall. DomaSa had known that the question would arise—and spent a considerable amount of time formulating a reply. A response calculated to conceal the infighting that years of planetary confinement had caused, the sense of hopelessness that commanded his people, and the fact that one member of the ruling body was more than a little eccentric. “I can’t speak for the rest of the Triad, but I favor your proposal, depending on what your race refers to as ‘the fine print.’ “
ChienChu wondered if he had misunderstood. “You!
You belong to the Triad?”
“Of course,” DomaSa replied easily. “What could be more important than our freedom? Besides, we have no diplomatic corps. Outside of myself that is.”
ChienChu wondered how he could have missed what now appeared to be obvious. The Hudathans favored a highly vertical almost dictatorial political system. They had never negotiated for anything, not until now, a fact that should have tipped him off. No one except one of the rulers could have been entrusted with something so critical. So, while many of those on board the Friendship treated DomaSa like a low level functionary, they had actually been dealing with a head of state. ChienChu struggled to remember everything he had said or done. DomaSa, who had come to know the human pretty we!) by then, gave the Hudathan equivalent of a chuckle. It sounded a lot like a rock crusher in low gear. “No, you never said anything to offend me, not that it would make much difference, since the Victory could sterilize the surface of my planet. “Ikor IfanaKa is another matter, however. He’s a lot more emotional than I am. It would pay to be careful in his presence.”
ChienChu frowned, or tried to, but discovered that the Trooper IF wasn’t equipped for that sort of communication.
“Grand Marshall IfanaKa? The officer that our intelligence people referred to as ‘the Annihilator?’ “
DomaSa looked as surprised as he was capable of looking. “You have a remarkable memory. Yes, IfanaKa carried out his duties with what you would refer to as ‘ruthless efficiency.’ “
“Meaning that he murdered hundreds of thousands of sentient beings,” ChienChu said coldly.
“Why, yes.” the Hudathan replied calmly. “And isn’t that why you came here? To recruit some killers?”
ChienChu sought some sort of comeback and was unable to think of one. Silence filled the cargo compartment
Clouds rolled in to cover the sun, rain fell in sheets, and Captain North struggled to penetrate the gloom. He’d gone below to grab a ration bar, and now he was back The Hudathans should have arrived by then
. .. and he wondered where they were. His troops, what were left of them, were dug in and waiting. Gorwin was quick to provide an unsolicited opinion. “The infrared is clear enough, sir. It looks like the ridge heads broke for some R&R.”
North lowered the glasses. Rain peppered his face, ran down the back of his neck, and sent damp fingers into his clothing. “Okay, but why? They could take us anytime they want.”
“Maybe it has something to do with the shuttle,” the cyborg replied mysteriously. North was annoyed. Gorwin was playing some kind of game with him—and the only thing that saved her from a good ass chewing was the fact that the enemy had already blown it off. “Shuttle? What frigging shuttle?”
Gorwin, who knew when to quit, underwent a sudden change of attitude. ‘The assault boat that passed over our position a few minutes ago, circled the Hudathans, and landed over there somewhere.” The cyborg used her arm-mounted energy cannon to point toward the northwest. North felt his heart try to beat its way out of his chest.
“A human assault boat? You’re sure?”
Gorwin nodded. “Sir, yes sir. Some of the other borgs saw it too. We told the loot. She said you were on the way.”
North peered into the rain, made his decision, and gave the necessary orders. “Wait ten, and tell the loot I went for a stroll. If I don’t return by 1800 hours she’s in command.”
“She ain’t gonna like that,” Gorwin replied sincerely, “and neither do I.”
“Sorry,” North replied, “but rank hath its privileges. See you later.”
The officer disappeared over the side. The corporal tried to stand and cursed her missing legs. The wind picked up, the rain came in sideways, driven by forty mile per hour gusts of wind. The clouds were so thick that it seemed night had fallen. Rocks that had been too hot to sit on steamed as the moisture hit them. Some, stressed by years of abuse, cracked in two. The sound resembled rifle shots—and came from all around.
The assault boat crouched like some sort of gray-black monster, water streaming off its heavily armored back, beacons strobing the murk.
A hatch whirred open. Admiral Kagan directed the exoskeleton out through the opening, and was glad he had agreed to use it. This was the first time he had set foot on the planet, and he felt vulnerable, very vulnerable, in spite of the steel cage that protected his rain-soaked body. Still, if ChienChu could do it, then he could do it, never mind the fact that the industrialist was all snuggy inside a T2. The ramp bounced under his weight, a gust of wind attempted to push him over, and the officer was forced to focus the majority of his attention on the normally simple task of walking. Once on the ground, the officer confronted six heavily armed Hudathans. They stood and stared. Kagan stared back.
ChienChu stepped into the hatch, scanned his surroundings, and walked down the ramp. The admiral’s servo-assisted exoskeleton was equipped with amber shoulder beacons. They flashed through the downpour.
DomaSa was the last to leave the shuttle, and Kagan saw a distinct change where the reception party was concerned. They came to rigid attention as the Hudathan diplomat cleared the ramp and stomped through the rain. Water ran over his shoulders, down his chest, and spurted away from his boots. A series of short sentences were exchanged, and the ambassador turned to explain. “We landed in the middle of a field exercise. Ikor IfanaKa has agreed to receive us ... but hopes to resume training in an hour or so.”
Having said his piece, DomaSa set off for a pole-supported shelter that had been erected a few hundred yards to the east. It was gray, like the world around it, and shivered in the wind. The Hudathan savored the warm damp air, the way the rain pelted his chest, and the feel of gravel under his boots. It was good to be home.
ChienChu drew abreast of the admiral, took note of how pale the officer looked, and spoke via a heavily encrypted corn channel. It took less than a minute to brief Kagan regarding DomaSa’s actual rank—and urge him to use caution. The meeting would be critical.
Kagan took the information in, realized what it meant, and felt a deep sense of betrayal. After all the Hudathans had done, after all the murders they had committed, ChienChu, along with a bunch of suckass politicians were going to sell the Confederacy out. All to defend against a bunch of machines
that might not exist. The whole thing made him sick.
That’s when Kagan came to an important realization:
He could end the insanity, he could save the Confederacy, he could go down in history. If he got the opportunity—if he had the guts.
North jogged through the rain, availed himself of what cover there was, but knew it was just a matter of time before somebody intercepted him. Would they shoot him? Before he could reach the people in the shuttle? That was his second greatest fear.
His greatest fear was that he had unintentionally betrayed the Legion, his battalion, and himself. Danjou had had many opportunities to surrender but had refused to do so. Here was an opportunity for glorious death, the kind the Legion respected, but rather than embrace it, as so many others had, he was trying to cheat his fate. Why? For the sake of his troops? Or out of cowardice? The possibility gnawed at his belly.
The legionnaire angled toward some rocks. Water splashed his ankles and wandered into his boots. He swore, allowed himself to slow, and pushed in among the boulders. One of them had cracked right down the middle during some previous storm leaving a V for him to peer through. It looked like an old-fashioned rifle sight. The enemy could be seen just beyond, preparing a meal. The legionnaire shoved both his assault weapon and his sidearm under a rock, used stones to wall them in, and returned to the viewpoint. North swallowed the lump in his throat, stepped out through the V-shaped crack, and raised his hands in the air. Nothing happened at first, and the officer was about to move, when a shout was heard. The words were in Hudathan, but there was no doubt as to what they meant. The officer stood fast.
The rain seemed to part tike a curtain. The troopers were huge. They gathered around. One grabbed the officer from behind. Another punched him in the stomach. The blows came hard and fast. North felt himself fold.
If there were negative things about Hudathan culture, such as their tendency toward genocide, there were some positive characteristics as well. One was a distaste for the trappings of power that so many humans lusted after. It could be seen in DomaSa’s matter-of-fact no-nonsense manner, in the plain rather utilitarian shelter erected for IfanaKa’s benefit, and the way that he waved them over. Much to ChienChu’s surprise, there had been no attempt to disarm Kagan or neutralize the Trooper IF’s weaponry. A sign of respect? A sign of contempt? There was no sure way to know. The exoskeleton and the Trooper IF were big ... but so was the tent. They whirred, whined, and crunched their way across the rain-soaked gravel. The fact that the shelter had no floor other than what the planet saw fit to provide was consistent with the lack of pomp. IfanaKa spoke Hudathan, but ChienChu’s onboard computer took care of the translation.
“Welcome. Please excuse me if I don’t get up. A Ramanthian war drone shot me more than fifty years ago. The butchers wanted to take the leg off but 1 wouldn’t let them. Now I’m too old for regeneration therapy, too set in my ways for a bionic replacement, and too mean to die. Isn’t that right. War Commander DomaSa?”
“I don’t know about the first two,” the Hudathan replied, “but there’s no doubt about the third.”
ChienChu took note of the military title and assumed the grunting noise equated to laughter. “So,”
IfanaKa asked, “who are you? And what do you want?”
The question was addressed to Admiral Kagan, since he was the only being who looked even slightly human. DomaSa, who was smooth by Hudathan standards, entered the gap. “Grand Marshall IfanaKa, this is Admiral Kagan. He commands the Confederate forces in our sector.”
The contempt on IfanaKa’s face was clear for even a human to see ... and DomaSa hurried to forestall whatever gaffe was in the making. “And this,” the Hudathan said, gesturing toward the hulking T2, “is none other than Sergi ChienChu, past President of the Confederacy, reserve admiral, Governor of Earth, and special envoy to the Hudathan people.”
ChienChu essayed a bow. “I apologize for my appearance. The body 1 normally wear was less than suitable for a visit to your planet.”
IfanaKa pushed himself up out of his chair and staggered forward. NorbaBa rushed to support him.
“ChienChu? The same miserable piece of excrement who fought PoseenKa off the planet Algeron?”
ChienChu tried to swallow but didn’t have anything left to do it with. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“It’s an honor to meet you,” IfanaKa said. “I served under the bastard, and he was tough. Very tough. So they sent a soldier to make their case? Smart, damned smart. Maybe there’s hope for humans after all.”
Disappointed by the warmth of ChienChu’s reception, and disgusted by the politician’s conciliatory tone, Kagan stood a little straighten Others could bend... he would refuse. ChienChu experienced a profound sense of relief, and was about to offer some sort of reply, when a disturbance was heard. All five of them turned toward the source of the noise. Captain North was a mess. His hair was matted from the rain, blood smeared his face, and his uniform was covered with mud. He had lost consciousness at some point during the beating and come to on a stretcher. That’s when he rolled off, dodged a slow moving trooper, and ran toward the tent. Maybe there would be someone in authority . .. someone who could . ..
A sentry yelled. North dashed for the tent, and waited for the inevitable bullet. It didn’t come. Not with two members of the Triad just beyond. He burst through the entryway and looked left and right. “My name is North! Captain North. Who’s in charge here? I want a word with them.”
That’s when the legionnaire saw Kagan, their eyes locked, and hatred jumped the gap. “Butcher!”
“Mutineer!”
Kagan went for his sidearm just as a 250pound Hudathan sentry flew through the entrance and hit North from the side. The two of them skidded across the gravel.
Undeterred, the naval officer raised his weapon, and was about to fire, when an ominous whine was heard. ChienChu looked through the sighting grid and knew the .50 caliber machine gun was ready to fire. “Hold it right there, Admiral. .. this man has something to say. I’d like to hear what it is.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Kagan allowed the pistol to fall. IfanaKa was amused. “I thank the Giver that humans spend most of their time at each other’s throats. Guard, help that officer up, and report for punishment. Twenty lashes should put you right. If the human were an assassin, I’d be dead by now.”
The sentry, who showed no reaction whatsoever, came to attention, did a smart about face, and marched into the rain.
North, who had the wind knocked out of him, spoke in short painful gasps. He described the battle, the attempt to escape, and what Kagan had done. The legionnaire had no hope of mercy from the admiral, assumed the cyborg was some sort of escort, and addressed himself to IfanaKa. “So, that’s it, sir. My people are ready to fight. Your forces will win, I know that, but we will kill a lot of them. And for what?
Nothing will be gained.”
IfanaKa looked at ChienChu. “He is yours—do with him what you will.’*
Kagan heard a roar in his head, felt heat suffuse his body, and understood his duty. Here was an opportunity to not only stop ChienChu but put the mutineer down. He would shoot the Hudathans, North, and himself in that order. The cyborg would survive—there was no way to prevent that—but not for long. IfanaKa’s troopers would see to that. He raised the slug thrower, turned toward IfanaKa, and felt the exoskeleton stagger as .50 caliber slugs tore his body apart. The vehicle shuddered, toppled to one side, and crashed into the ground.
Guards stormed into the tent, and DomaSa barked an order. Slowly, reluctantly, the troopers lowered their weapons. The soldier-diplomat turned toward ChienChu. A wisp of smoke drifted away from the arm-mounted machine gun. “You see my friend? We aren’t as different as you thought.”
The cyborg, who found the thought depressing, was forced to agree. The ensuing negotiations tasted for six local days. Long, seemingly endless affairs punctuated by hail, sun, rain, wind, snow, and combinations ChienChu had never experienced before. North,
along with his sort of mutineers, were evacuated to await court-martial. ChienChu, relying on his on-again off-again status as an admiral gave his word that they would be treated fairly. That was relatively easy. The mutual defense pact cum treaty was a good deal more difficult. First came the question of who could and should conduct the negotiations. ChienChu made it clear that while he could help draft a proposal, the senate would have to review it, and the President would need to approve it.
Due to the fact that the third member of the Triad had been killed during an interclan feud and that a replacement had yet to successfully assert himself, IfanaKa and DomaSa would speak for the Hudathan race.
They opened the negotiations by demanding full unqualified freedom for their people. Understandable—but completely out of the question.
Literally dozens of models were discussed and eventually discarded. ChienChu discovered that the Hudathans were dogged negotiators ... never giving ground till the battle had been fully fought and lost. Still, when the process was over, the final draft was very close to what ChienChu had proposed to begin with. It was bound to be, given that his race held most of the cards, and any degree of freedom would be an improvement over what the Hudathans had prior to signing.
The key to the agreement’s appeal, if there was any, would be in the treaty’s clarity and simplicity. The essence of the document was that the Hudathans would resume their status as a sovereign state, would be entitled to a representative in the senate, would be free to engage in nonmilitary commerce with other members of the Confederacy, would pay their fair share of taxes, and, with one significant exception, would be subject to the mutual defense pact. The qualifier, the all important restriction, stated that the Hudathans would not be allowed to build, maintain, or operate a spacegoing navy. The responsibility for transporting Hudathan troops to and from their home planet or colonies, should they be permitted to retain some of the worlds previously under their control, would fall to other spacefaring races such as the humans and Ramanthians. Because without a navy, and the independence that went with it, there would be very little chance that the Hudathans would try their hands at conquest. This was a bitter pill to swallow, one that not only hurt the Hudathan’s pride, and made them dependent on other races. Something their inborn sense of survival argued against. But facts were facts, and DomaSa, who had spent a great deal of time observing the senate, knew that this was the best deal he and his people were likely to get for the next hundred years or so, and it certainly beat the alternative, sitting on Hudatha until their own combative culture turned inward and destroyed them, or the planet was torn apart. Besides, even the most superficial study of human history revealed what extremely short memories they had, a fact that augured well for the future. And so it was that an agreement was reached, that ChienChu and DomaSa returned to space, and that Admiral Dero Delany Kagan IF remained behind.
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