by John Dalmas
The city drew nearer, details multiplying, sharpening. Then they were above the Palace of Worlds, lowering quietly, unremarkably to its roofpad. There was no band, or red carpet, and the squad of marines who met them wore dress greens, not ceremonial whites. Looking hard and businesslike, if a bit distracted. They'd never seen a Wyzhnyny before, of course, nor any sapient alien. To them, Qonits looked bizarre and dangerous.
If anyone imagines these people won't talk about this, David thought, they're crazy. It seemed to him he got almost as many looks as Qonits. He wondered if they considered him a hero or a turncoat. Try victim, he suggested silently.
The president and prime minister waited in business clothes, without insignia. David had never, of course, seen either of them in person, but they were familiar from newscasts. It was to the much shorter, thicker-bodied human he gave precedence, ad-libbing. "Mr. President, Mr. Prime Minister," he said, "it is my honor to present to you Ambassador Qonits, chief scholar and personal envoy of Grand Admiral Quanshuk, Ruler of the Seventh Swarm."
David turned to Qonits then. "Mr. Ambassador," he said, "it is my honor to introduce to you the honorable Chang Lung-Chi, President of the Commonwealth of Worlds. And the honorable Foster Peixoto, his prime minister."
Qonits was surprised at Foster Peixoto's height, and wondered what gender he might be. Meanwhile he bowed slightly: David had coached him. "I am deeply honored," he said.
"I too am honored, Mr. Ambassador," the prime minister answered. It was the president's reply that surprised both Qonits and David: "It is good you come here," he said-in understandable Wyzhnynyc! It suggested to them that somehow, somewhere, the government had had contact with other Wyzhnyny. Actually, the recorded language lessons (as one-sided as most had been), the limited exchanges between Qonits and his bodyguards, and Annika's mixed channeling of the fitness hearing had been enough for the government's powerful artificial intelligence to create a partial and provisional translation program. And Chang Lung-Chi had taken the opportunity to learn this simple (and ungrammatical) phrase as a courtesy.
Chang and Peixoto, of course, knew what Qonits did not-that the armada was under a new regime, one not interested in negotiating. But Qonits could be a valuable information source, and at any rate, for the president, decency was natural. And judging from the hearing, Qonits was cut off forever from his own people.
***
No time had been scheduled for resting or getting acquainted. The two human leaders felt strongly pressed by the oncoming armada. Thus, shortly after their introduction, Qonits and David were led through a private corridor to a sitting room in the president's wing. A luncheon had been set for four, and a seat hurriedly improvised for Qonits. He declined to use it, explaining that "persons with four legs commonly stand to eat."
Like bears, the Wyzhnyny were omnivores despite their fighting teeth. For them, most human foods were digestible and nourishing. Most of them. But Qonits was uneasy. Like humans, the Wyzhnyny had made a science of adapting to exotic worlds. They'd long since learned that if a planet fell within otherwise habitable parameters, they could usually eat many of its plants and most of its higher animals. Eat them safely and beneficially. But there were exceptions. So on a new world they ate rations they'd brought with them, while technicians analyzed and tested a broad spectrum of plants and animals for safety, digestibility and nutrient values. Without that sort of database, this meal involved a modest risk for the chief scholar.
When they'd finished dessert-vaclava, which Qonits found delicious-Foster Peixoto led them to a small conference room. Almost immediately, five humans from War House and the Commonwealth Ministry were ushered in, and the prime minister introduced them to Qonits. "Mr. Ambassador," he said, "we greatly appreciate your courage in coming here. And the courage Grand Admiral Quanshuk displayed in sending you. And finally, the desire for peace shown by you both.
"Before we discuss your mission further, however, there are things you need to know. Please interrupt if I say things you disagree with, or do not understand. Meanwhile I suggest you be seated." He gestured at a large cushion beside the conference table, and Qonits sat down on it like a huge ungainly dog.
"Since you left your flagship," Peixoto went on, "there have been very important developments you need to know about. They are described in a cube I'll play in just a moment." He looked at David. "Is he familiar with what I mean by cube?"
"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 befo
re, 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.
"Many are colony ships, supply ships, factory ships," Qonits went on. "It is necessary that our colonies set up manufacturing industries, with different tribes having different industries.
"And therein lies a greater problem." He paused again to sip. "Agricultural tribes are landed first, to establish food production and a planetary database. And when shipsmind decides we have occupied as large a sector of space as we can administer, the tribes not yet landed are assigned by shipsmind to worlds already occupied. On the basis of planetary environments, tribal affinities, and an integrated, practical industrial program.
"Usually there is no technologically potent empire to destroy. And when there has been, it has never been too large to swallow. Until now."
He took another swallow himself, then fixed his bleak gaze on David again. "We never imagined an empire so large as yours. Not a hundredth as large. We were already badly overextended when we fought the first human fleet. We would not have enough tribes. And our industries would be so widely dispersed, they would not constitute a viable system."
"Then why… "
Qonits fist slammed the table top, making David jump. "Because we dared not stop! Not within the bounds of a technologically advanced empire! We would have been mortally exposed!"
He paused, staring ruefully at his fist. "I am sorry, David. I should not have committed violence, even against a table. The scholar gender does not tolerate ethanol well. And you are my friend. My only friend in this galaxy."
"In this galaxy," David echoed. "You've said that before, and I've assumed it was a figure of speech. Don't tell me the Wyzhnyny are from another galaxy."
"We are." Qonits began to rock, forward and back. "We are," he repeated. Then he finished his drink and sat quietly.
Contemplating only the All-Soul knows what, David thought. "But surely you hadn't filled up your own galaxy. And how could you have gotten here from so far away?"
He'd never before heard Qonits laugh, but it seemed to him that's what this sound was. Probably an ironic laugh. The chief scholar refilled his glass himself, and drank. "We do not know," he said, then briefly described the experience. "Nor do we know which other one we came from. Not that it makes any difference. The nearest would be too far."
***
Briefly they sipped without speaking. Then David, groping for a change of subject, asked what Qonits' home world was like. They spent the next hour exchanging reminiscences of childhood and youth. And drinking. Finally Qonits slumped onto his side and closed his eyes.
"You're drunk, old buddy," David said. And laughed. "And so am I. How about that! We need to get ol' Pollywog or whatever his name is to get drunk with the president. What is his name? Pollywog."
Qonits eyes opened. He giggled. That's what it is, David thought. Giggling. "I don' remember," Qonits said. "Tooley Rooley." He frowned, trying to get it right. "Toolarog. Thass it."
His eyes closed again. David wobbled to his bed and flopped down on it. It promptly began to rotate on its axis. He knew it was the alcohol, not the bed, but nonetheless tried physically to hold it still until the sensation stopped. Then he nested his cheek in his pillow. "David," he mumbled, "you juss did something no human ever did before. You know that? You got drunk with an alien."
It was the last thing he thought before sleeping.
***
Marine Lance Corporal Artemis Shaughnessy looked at the two sleepers. What a story to tell his children and grandchildren, when he had some. Surely the security restrictions would be off by then.
It seemed to him he knew more about the aliens now than even the president did.
***
He didn't, of course. The suite was bugged, and the two leaders had all of it on cube. Including David waking later from a dream of Yukiko, to soak his pillow with tears.
It was the last time he would griev
e for her. It was done.
Chapter 62
The Battle of Epsilon Eridani
Abruptly, Alvaro Soong's command screen registered 221 radio sources, twittering code. He'd been expecting them: a corvette herding 220 spook drones, newly arrived in the Eridani System from Sol. They'd emerged sufficiently nearby that their emergence waves preceded their electromagnetic signature by only a few seconds. The corvette's captain, a lieutenant, had done an excellent job of delivering his herd.
A similar herd had arrived from the Indi System four days earlier and six days late, badly scattered, sixteen spooks short-and on the wrong side of the system. Far enough that the guide ship's signal lag was more then thirteen hours! What a mess. Gathering the spooks had been slow and frustrating, and the fifty-seven hours wasted would be time lost later from steel drills. As for the sixteen spooks lost in hyperspace-an admiral hates losing even unmanned ships.
The Indi guide ship had been a long-range scout, and her commander a mere ensign! Policy required a board of review, which took less than four hours to absolve the young officer of malfeasance. He'd had only introductory training in hyperspace radio-not nearly enough to reliably monitor and control the drones in hyperspace. As for gathering them for the closing jump-that accounted for most of the six-day delay.
The review board concluded he'd done well to lose so few.
Soong savanted a strongly worded message to War House, criticizing Indi Command for appointing someone so unqualified. It was Admiralty Chief Fedor Tischendorf himself who replied, very mildly. Ensign Fahzi had been at the head of his class when Indi Command had pulled him out of training, bestowed a premature commission, and with Kunming's blessing had given him the job. On Indi Prime, everyone of certified competence-short of Command and training staff-had already been sent with the 1st Indi Battle Wing. All they had left were midshipmen.