Post by Lorpius Prime on Jan 18, 2009 1:36:48 GMT -5
It took another half hour to work out the details of Hyong's plan. By that time, Hyong said they might have a little over an hour left to implement it. The Fleet's estimate was less helpful; not because they couldn't track the incoming ships, but simply because no one knew where the ships intended to stop. Or if they would.
The Chief Executive had ended the call by asking Hyong to wait in the Foreign Ministry office where he had been escorted. The Bat now had a steward to bring him refreshments and several EPS guards outside the door to discourage him from leaving.
Earth's leaders were now sitting in silence again, contemplating the scenario laid out in front of them. Hyong had convinced Pascual that he was not attempting to deceive the Humans. Rather, the question now was whether Hyong was even sane. Pascual had to admit that he was not qualified to judge the merits of the scheme.
"Let's do it, Ed," Councilor Durante said, apparently having no such intellectual reservation. "It won't change our ability to respond if it does come to a fight. So it's worth a shot."
On the big monitor, Admiral Kozlov shook his head. "Due respect, Councilor, but that's not true. We might end up in a fight even if we do this, as you've said. But if we lose that fight, doing this means we'd have a hell of a time surrendering." He turned to the Chief Executive, "Losing isn't an outcome I like to think about, and it's not one I believe is likely, but it's something we need to consider anyway.
Eduard Molinas nodded and folded his hands in front of his face. He asked, "If there is a battle, would this affect our ability to win?"
"It might," Admiral Godavarthi fielded. "Depending on their commander's instructions, we could provoke them into opening fire immediately. On the other hand, if what the Bat says is true, we might be able to achieve a level of tactical surprise ourselves."
Pascual winced along with Councilors Durante and Trautmann, everyone else just looked grim. They all looked to the Chief Executive, who waited a few seconds before putting his hands calmly down on the table before him.
"We'll do it," he said. "We've only got Mr. Hyong Yaheek's word that Hyarahek is behind this, but the good Ambassador has been meddlesome enough that I'm inclined to believe him. In light of that history, I'll sooner take my chances with whoever Shyankyang's put on those ships. Let's take Hyarahek out of the game."
Both Kozlov and Godavarthi nodded their acknowledgment. The military men might have their doubts, but they were good soldiers; the decision had been made and they were going to implement it.
The Chief Executive went on, "That means I'm going to need to speak with President Sanderson and President Gómez, in that order," he looked over his shoulder to make sure his aides were keeping up. The tension in the meeting had lessened considerably now that people had something to do instead of just worrying about what should be done. "Actually," Molinas said, "get a hold of all the Big Four heads of state, the Security Council's going to want to pass a resolution after the fact. Who's our liaison to the national militaries?"
"That's Admiral Lagorio," Kozlov said, "I'll have someone call him."
"Wait," Pascual interjected, "I just had lunch with the guy. He's over at the Gran Meliá with the AU Defense Ministers."
The Chief Executive screwed up his eyes, "Was that this week?"
"We'll pick him up," Admiral Kozlov said before Pascual could grumble anything too vulgar about his uncle.
Hyarahek tapped absently at his personal computer. The Senior Representative of the Republican Diplomatic Service was just going through the motions; he was far too distracted to do any actual work at the moment. The task force would reach its destination in twenty minutes. Some minutes before that, however, Commander Horexker would summon him to the embassy's small command center, from where he would direct and observe the task force in its mission. The Humans would be insane to resist, but Hyarahek found himself hoping that they would, he wanted to see the results. He especially wanted to watch the savages' leader Molinas squirm. The Humans needed to be punished after their arrogance of the last week, and Hyarahek was eager to deliver.
The lights in his office flickered off for a moment, and were restored. Hyarahek sat up.
The lights' brief failure surprised him far more than it might have a Human resident of this planet. Although the embassy had been built by Humans and was integrated into the city's power infrastructure, it only ever drew local electricity to operate the handful of Human devices necessary for the embassy's function. Everything else, including the lights, was Bat-manufactured, and Bat equipment ran on dedicated batteries rather than any sort of centralized power grid. Such equipment still failed—even Hyarahek's people had not yet discovered the secrets of unlimited power or indestructible materials—but there should be no reason for an entire series of lights to fail simultaneously. The only common link among them was to the computer managing their operation.
Hyarahek glanced back down to the monitor of his computer. It had shut down and rebooted itself. The payroll documents he had been signing had reverted to their initial, blank, state. Some sort of computer failure, then. That was still unusual, but not entirely unheard of. Hyarahek would have to remember to ask one of his technicians what had happened. Well, he still probably had enough time to finish signing off on the payroll despite the setback; he opened the documents again.
Or not. Commander Horexker entered the office. Hyarahek set aside the payroll documents for now and slipped his computer back into his vest. He was reaching for his beret when he noticed the agitation showing in his military attaché's half-extended wings.
"Commander?" he asked.
Horexker took a moment to compose himself before responding. Hyarahek used the time to place his hat atop his head and straighten it. The beret was green, indicating the Diplomatic Service, with yellow chevrons to show his political authority.
The military attaché managed to control his emotions, and saluted. "Sir," he said, "I'm sorry, but you should come to the command center at once."
Hyarahek nodded and stood up, this was what he had been expecting, after all.
"The Humans have attacked the embassy," Horexker finished. Hyarahek froze.
"What?"
"Forgive me, Representative," Horexker said in a strained voice, "but I took a minute to confirm the information myself. It seems several human aircraft, almost indistinguishable from their passenger vehicles, have engaged the embassy with low-energy lasers. They've disabled most of our external sensors and communications equipment."
"They attacked us?" Hyarahek was having trouble believing the conversation he was having.
"Yes, sir. Although it seems to be more of a crude attempt to jam our sensors and communications. I'm sure that if the Humans intended to kill us they could have done so with far less effort."
Hyarahek understood that much, at least. His wings uncurled, "Kill us, Commander? What have your men been doing?"
"Sir," Horexker said with no escalation of his own emotions, "we've been attempting to determine what happened with our main sensors' records and using my warriors' personal scanners. I came to give my report as soon as we understood."
"Commander, your warriors' job is to defend this embassy from attacks such as the one that has apparently just happened. Why have you failed?"
"The only way to defend against this attack would be to destroy the Human aircraft, Representative. I am not authorized to use lethal force against the Humans except in cases of imminent danger to the embassy staff or by your own authorization."
"And this doesn't constitute imminent danger?"
"No, sir. As I said, this appears to be a non-lethal interdiction rather than an actual assault."
"Well it's still an attack! You have my authorization to destroy the Human aircraft, Commander. If the Humans want to war with us then I will gladly demonstrate just how—"
A loud beeping noise interrupted him, and Horexker took his computer off his vest in a swift motion to look at the urgent message he'd just received.
"Sir!" the military attaché's head popped up again, and he ran past Hyarahek to press himself against the office's big exterior window. Irked, Hyarahek turned to stand beside the Commander, and followed his gaze down to the streets below.
Hyarahek was only vaguely familiar with Humanity's sub-orbital military capabilities. Hyarahek's people had little interest in invading Earth. If war against the Humans ever did become necessary, all that would matter would be sweeping their tiny Fleet from space, after which the surface could be bombarded at the Bats' leisure. Still, the embassy had collected some cursory information on the Humans' ground forces, and it seemed like every regional leader Hyarahek met with wanted to show off his or her personal military contingent.
So Hyarahek at least had a basic understanding of what the machines moving towards the embassy building were for, if not exactly what they were capable of. The big ground cars were called tanks, and the Humans walking along side them were wearing armored suits which Hyarahek had been told were the species' equivalent of his own people's combat harnesses and gliders. The Senior Representatives turned his eyes upwards, but he did not see any of the aircraft which the Humans called helicopters or jets, and which he had been given to believe were just as important as the tanks.
"I'm afraid I'll need to revise my estimate of our capabilities, Representative," Horexker said grimly. "I will not be able to defend the embassy."
"Nonsense!" Hyarahek hissed, and turned on his attaché. "We are under attack! Order your warriors to destroy the Humans' aircraft as well as these ground forces!"
Horexker was incredulous, "I have less than twenty warriors, Sir. Enough to prevent entry to the embassy by criminals or troublemakers, but not enough to fight a war against the Humans! If we engage this force, we may kill a lot of Humans, but they are certain to defeat us, and will likely destroy the embassy in the process."
Hyarahek's wings were fully extended now, and he was smoldering. But he knew that blind anger was not going to help him here, he had to think. Why were the Humans mounting this ridiculous attack.
It should have been obvious, of course. And Hyarahek slapped the window with the claws of one hand when he realized it. The Humans must have learned about the task force, which meant two of his senior advisors had failed in their duties. Hyarahek turned around, and was about to storm off to skewer Hyong Yaheek when one of his deputies, Gaxahyeng, entered the office.
Gaxahyeng had been just a pup when the colony first arrived in this star system, and Hyarahek had been enjoying the opportunity to train a new diplomat for the Service. He thought the young aide showed great promise, but right now he looked frightened nearly out of his mind with his wings curled up as tightly as a vacuum suit.
"Sir," he said after a moment's hesitation, "the Humans are contacting us over their communications network. Councilor Khatib is demanding to speak with you at once."
Somehow, Pascual found himself sitting next to Rear Admiral Lagorio for the second time that afternoon. And somehow, the Italian officer's appearance had become even more vulture-like in the intervening hours since Pascual had seen him last.
Lagorio leaned towards Pascual and nudged him with an elbow.
"Say what you want about the Americans," he murmured, "but their Air Force still has the best toys of anyone this side of LEO."
Pascual sighed softly, and tried to ignore Lagorio. It was easy enough to find a distraction in the conference room now. Two more walls of monitors had been activated to show even more information. In the center, the teleconference screen had been subdivided to include the American and Venezuelan Presidents and their military commanders alongside Chief Molinas and Admiral Kozlov in the center.
On the wall to the right, monitors had been activated to display various bits of telemetry and satellite images of the space above Earth where the Bat ships were expected to arrive. The biggest screen were showing a simplified, not-to-scale summary of the battlespace, with a field of blue icons representing important Earth ships and satellites, and a swiftly approaching red blob indicating the inbound Bats. Next to that display was a video camera feed into the L-COM control room on the Moon. Pascual didn't know why that was up there. Obviously L-COM would be an important part of any battle that did occur—God forbid; but the time lag in communications between Earth and Luna meant no really useful instructions could be sent in the time it was likely to take for a battle to start and finish.
The left-hand wall was displaying several video feeds around Caracas, each showing a piece of the stand-off outside the Bat embassy, including one from the wing of one of the American "scammer" planes that was still blasting the embassy building with a microwave laser. There was also footage from a few of the Venezuelan APCs the local Ejército garrison had deployed. The most interesting part of the whole display, however, was the ongoing phone call between Deputy Councilor Khatib and Ambassador Hyarahek. Khatib had stepped into an adjoining room for the call, and neither he nor Hyarahek were patched into the big teleconference, but the signal was being relayed so Earth's leaders could monitor the conversation.
They could have sold tickets. Khatib was a holdover from the previous OES administration, and had never been terribly comfortable with the staff Chief Molinas had brought with him into the job. But despite personal tensions, no one doubted Khatib's ability, and he was proving it with this meeting. Khatib's job was fairly simple. While he was encouraged to convince Hyarahek to surrender if it seemed possible, he was mostly just supposed to keep the Bat ambassador talking, and to make sure Hyarahek was aware that he had no chance of stopping the Humans outside his door. No one was worried that Hyarahek could really do anything at this point, but nor did anyone want to have to deal with a situation where the Bat got himself killed thinking he could. So long as he was venting at Khatib, the other Humans could worry about their real problem: the incoming Bat warships.
And he was venting. The Bat's wings were fully extended for flight, which the OES' body language experts said was usually a visual indication of extreme anger or surprise. Pascual imagined that if Hyarahek were a cat, he'd be puffed up into an enormous fuzz ball at the moment. On the other end of the call, the Deputy Foreign Councilor was keeping his cool, and probably making Hyarahek even more furious by doing so. Several people in the crisis room chuckled as the Bat smashed some gadget on the desk before him with a fist.
"Nikita Khrushchev," said the American President, Harold Sanderson, suddenly. Several people blinked and turned toward his image on the screen. "That's who he reminds me of, Nikita Kruschev banging his shoe at the UN."
Admiral Kozlov frowned. Admiral Godavarthi looked very slowly towards the President's image and asked, "Who?"
It was the American's turn to frown. "Nikita Khrushchev, the Soviet Premier. He once got so angry at a General Assembly meeting that he took off a shoe and started banging it on a table."
"Oh," Godavarthi said, and turned away. "Forgive me; I never cared enough to study much of your history."
Pascual nearly choked, and he could see the American President's face turn purple on the video screen. Everyone knew that there was still a great deal of resentment for the United States among most of the OES members and their population, and a certain amount of rivalry between Earth Fleet and other Earth militaries was to be expected. But it was not exactly good form to call attention to such things with US officials present. Especially since, even despite his nation's unpopularity, President Sanderson still probably had enough clout to torpedo the EarthCOM commandant's career if he really wanted.
Before Godavarthi's insult could have any immediate repercussions, however, all of the screens on the right-hand wall of monitors went black. Everyone's head turned. The video feeds from the satellites had flashed briefly to blue before going down, and the video from L-COM cut out a second later. The tracking plot was the only screen which still showed some color, but all the position icons had disappeared, leaving only a dotted green line representing the orbit of the moon, which Pascual suspected was hard-coded.
"Something's happened," one of the anonymous Fleet technicians said, needlessly.
"Is it a computer problem?" Chief Molinas asked. The video screen in the Singapore conference room was too small to comfortably fit the same amount of data that the crisis room could handle, so he and Kozlov were leaning in towards one of several smaller monitors that had been placed on the table in front of them.
Another Fleet officer, a full Captain, responded from one end of a bank of computers. "No sir," he shook his head, "we've lost the signal from all of it."
"Jesus," said another officer seated at one of those computers, "orbital control is down for Singapore, Kampala, and the Maldives." He looked up at the Captain who'd spoken and shook his head, mouth hanging open.
"I can't raise any of our ships in that hemisphere, either," someone else said.
It was happening too fast for Pascual. His uncle asked, "Are they attacking us?"
"It looks that way, sir," Godavarthi said grimly.
"Fresh Eyesores coming over the horizon!" someone shouted. "Three seconds!"
The monitors on the wall flickered and readjusted as a new image replaced several of the dead feeds. "Eyesores" was a nickname for the European Space Agency's Orbital Reconnaissance Satellites, which provided some of Earth Fleet's monitoring capabilities in near-Earth space. The image which appeared on the screen looked to Pascual like any other picture of space that he'd ever seen.
Pascual was not a trained astronomer, however. An Earth Fleet lieutenant standing near the wall stabbed a finger at a point on the display. "That's new," he said definitively. As far as Pascual could tell, the star he was pointing to looked like any of the other hundreds of stars in the image.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" Admiral Kozlov asked, he couldn't see where the junior officer had pointed from his angle.
The lieutenant turned sharply, "Well, sir, it's either a supernova that's hit us in the last ten seconds, or it's a new ship out there."
"How far away?" that was the Chief Executive.
"There's no way to know, sir," Admiral Godavarthi said, "not without knowing how big they are."
"Singapore control is back online," one of the officers who'd spoken earlier announced. "They're pretty spooked."
"What happened?" Councilor Trautmann asked.
"They saw some bright lights," the officer shrugged, "they don't really know."
"We're getting some of the sats back," a technician said, "looks like everything's rebooting."
One by one, screens that had gone to black popped back to life on the monitors. None of them seemed to show any dramatic changes from what had been up before, however. Then the primary tracking display came back.
"Holy shit."
Pascual didn't know who said it, but from the looks on all the Earth Fleet officers' faces, it could have been any one of them. Not all of the blue icons representing Human ships and satellites had returned to the display; though even as Pascual watched more were winking back into existence. He assumed that the exclamation was directed at the red icons on the display, which had now been resolved into four discrete triangles representing separate Bat ships. Little tags were attached to each, showing a series of numbers that Pascual didn't understand.
"What?" he asked. Probably for the benefit of the other civilians, too, as all of them seemed just as lost.
The lieutenant who had pointed out the ship in the star field tapped one of the red triangles with the same finger. "This," he said. He ran his finger in an arc across the other three indicators, which were ahead of the first ship, closer to Earth's line of defenses. "These look like some of their local defense ships, the ones we've designated as "Sparrow"-class destroyers. They're about 200 meters long, we estimate maybe three or four guns, lasers."
He tapped the fourth ship again, "This, however, is not a class we recognize, and the satellites are pegging its size around 20 kilometers."
"Holy shit," someone else said, one of the civilian aides along the wall.
"What are they doing?" Chief Molinas asked.
"Nothing at the moment, sir" Godavarthi said. "They're parked in orbit. A hell of a distant orbit, that is, but right now they're just sitting there."
"The hell they are, they just knocked down half our space infrastructure!" Councilor Durante exclaimed. "Shouldn't we be shooting them?"
"Hey," Trautmann interjected, "how could they just stop? Don't you have to decelerate?"
"Usually." Godavarthi said.
"But?"
Godavarthi shrugged, "You usually can't travel faster than light, either. Doesn't seem to stop the Bats."
"Hey that's something," said the lieutenant by the screen. "This could be one of their FTL ships, it's big enough. And we always get those little X-ray bursts whenever those show up. Maybe we just saw one up close."
"Is that good or bad?" Durante asked.
"Bad," Kozlov answered, "whatever it was just burned out all our sensors, as you noticed."
"All right people, let's get a handle on ourselves," Chief Molinas said, and the buzz of chatter which had been escalating quickly died.
The Chief Executive turned his head slightly, "President Sanderson, President Gómez, thank you for your assistance in all this, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to deal with the rest of this now. Admiral Lagorio will continue to liaise with your own commanders through the rest the operation. If you'll excuse me."
Sanderson nodded coolly. Gómez was a little more understanding. "Good luck, Ed," he said before his part of the call was terminated, and the screen returned to black.
"All right," Chief Molinas said after the two Presidents were gone. "Admiral, if you will," he nodded to Lagorio.
"Yes, sir," the vulture-like Italian stood up and walked away from the table so that he could work with the USAF and Ejército commanders from another room. Pascual breathed a little sigh of relief to see him go.
Molinas turned to Admiral Godavarthi, "So the ships aren't doing anything else yet? There's been no shooting?"
"Assuming that whatever blasted all our sensors wasn't a weapon, then no sir."
"Okay," the Chief Executive took a deep breath, "then so far it seems Mr. Hyong Yaheek has been telling us the truth. Why don't we get him back on the line?"
Everyone expected things to start happening quickly once the flotilla had arrived. Everyone was wrong. Since showing up, the Bat ships had done precisely nothing except wait in orbit. The Earth Fleet people were saying that the orbit was too distant to be maintained by gravity alone, so the ships had to be running their engines, but Pascual thought that hardly counted as actually doing anything. They were making no maneuvers, nor taking any sort of aggressive action. They had made no attempt to communicate with Earth Fleet, and were not responding to the Humans own attempts to make contact. That was a little troublesome, but so far everyone was being very careful to avoid calling it threatening behavior. So far as anyone could tell, the ships had not tried to contact the Bat embassy, either.
"How long do we just wait for them to do something?" Councilor Durante asked.
"Well since our strategy is to run out the clock on them," Councilor Trautmann replied, "I think we should wait as long as they'll let us."
The Foreign Councilor muttered something, but nodded.
"I am pretty bored, though," Trautmann said, and put his forehead down on the conference table for a moment, "how much longer do we have on our clock?"
"Depends on how fast Hyong's plan takes to work," Pascual offered, "if it does at all."
"That's assuming the Bat isn't lying to us," Durante pointed out.
"Yes, assuming that," said the Chief Executive from the other side of the video screen. The room fell quiet again after he spoke.
They passed a few minutes in silence before Admiral Kozlov looked up from one of the printed reports that were being handed to him in an endless stream. He took off his glasses and looked at Pascual's uncle.
"Well, while we're waiting," he said, "EarthCOM's got five more people with radiation poisoning. Two couples and a tour guide were on a spacewalk around Singapore station."
"Oh Christ," someone muttered from along the wall, Pascual glanced up to see Councilor Trautmann's press secretary shaking his head. The Financial Councilor made a sharp gesture over his shoulder to silence his assistant.
"They're being taken to University Hospital with the rest from Earth Orbit," Kozlov finished.
"How many does that bring us to?" the Chief Executive asked.
"Twenty-six here and L-COM's got thirty-two," Admiral Godavarthi said.
"Why is it more on the moon?" asked Trautmann.
"Luck," Godavarthi answered. "Quito was pretty much on the exact opposite side of the planet when the event happened. If there'd been line-of-sight to Bonestell Yards, we'd be hospitalizing three hundred people, not sixty."
A Captain watching over one of the banks of computers spoke up. "Don't forget they're installing computers in the Bangkok this week. That burst might have fried her for good."
There were frowns all around the conference tables. Chief Molinas said to Kozlov, "Well Admiral, we'd better work on some kind of better shielding for our spacesuits and for the Boneyards in case this isn't the last one of these."
"Agreed," Kozlov said.
The Financial Councilor sighed deeply, then shrugged when he noticed everyone looking at him. "I can't argue about the necessity of such changes," he held out his hands palms out, "but at the rate we're going we'll have spent our budget for the next two years by July."
"The members are just going to have to cough up bigger contributions," Durante said, resting one cheek on a fist. "The last two administrations said so as well."
Trautmann opened his mouth to say something in reply, but he was cut off by an Earth Fleet officer in the computer banks on the other side of the room. "Excuse me sirs," the man called, "but L-COM's managed to raise the alien flotilla."
"Stand up, son," said the Captain at the end of the row of computers. The officer, a Lieutenant, did so. Admiral Kozlov and Chief Molinas both turned their heads slightly; the conference room cameras must have adjusted to show the Lieutenant. "All right, report," the Captain said.
"Sir, the commander of the flotilla has established a communication link with L-COM. They've been challenging the fleet without a response, as you know," the Lieutenant shifted his head slightly, as if he was unsure if his superiors actually did know that bit of information.
"Okay," the Chief Executive said, then glanced at one of the computer screens in front of him before holding out his hands. "Where'd Admiral Blevins go? Why isn't he telling me this?"
"Technical problem with the comm gear, Sir," the Lieutenant said, looking embarrassed, "the computers keep dropping the conference call, something went wrong after the burst. They've been flashing us updates through regular channels. We're pretty sure the problem's with—"
Admiral Kozlov held up a hand to stop the boy, "Nevermind, Lieutenant. Just tell us what's happening with the fleet."
The junior officer straightened up, "Yes, sir. As I said they've responded to the hails. L-COM doesn't know what they're saying yet, though, because they're speaking the Bat language. They're getting a translator."
"Why are they speaking Bat?' the Chief Executive asked. The Lieutenant just shrugged.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," his Captain said, and gestured for the young man to sit down, which he did with visible relief. The Captain turned to the screen and said, "We'll keep you posted when we know something more."
Admiral Godavarthi nodded approvingly, and the Captain stepped back to his post. On the video screen, Chief Molinas tugged at his cheek.
"What does it mean?" he asked no one in particular.
"Well," Pascual said, and glanced around the room to make sure he wasn't speaking out of turn before going on, "if they're from the colony's permanent defense fleet, they may just not have anyone on board that speaks English."
"And they can't just use a computer?" The Chief Executive snorted and pointed a finger at Pascual, "I remember when you used to play with an online English-to-Bat translator. If we can do that…"
Councilor Durante looked up at the ceiling and smirked. "My non-sentient back-clinger is eating my nest job," he said.
Pascual chuckled along with most of the other people at the tables before continuing, "We know they have translation software, and it's probably a lot better than ours. But it might not be standard equipment, especially for a ship which is just going to be guarding their colony."
"And especially not if they didn't think they'd need to speak to us," Godavarthi added darkly.
"Excuse me, sirs" the Captain from the computer banks spoke up again, "L-COM reports that their intel officer has translated the Bats' initial message. Apparently the flotilla's commander, Captain—ah—Yegrang, is demanding to speak with Ambassador Hyarahek."
"We are able to respond, I hope?" Durante asked.
"Yes, sir. The intelligence officer knows the Bats' language and they've got a speech synthesizer."
Durante nodded. Ever since the Humans' first contact with the Bats, English had been the preferred language of communication for purely practical reasons. Bats could, after much study, learn to speak English, or at least approximate it close enough for Humans to understand them. However, while a Human could learn to understand Bat speech, no one had yet been able to replicate all the necessary sounds using his own vocal cords.
"All right," Chief Molinas said, "let's tell L-COM to brush them off. Tell Captain Yegrang we'll pass along his request, but suggest he contact the Ambassador using their own equipment."
"Yes sir," the Earth Fleet Captain turned back to his computers.
"And what do we do when he starts to push us for more than that?" the Foreign Councilor asked his boss.
Chief Molinas looked at him. "Then we push back."
Junior Group Commander Horexker of the Republican Navy watched through the transparent wall of one of the command center's communications cubicles as Ambassador Hyarahek seized the rectangular screen which displayed Councilor Khatib's face, and made as if to tear it from the wall. It was not the first time Hyarahek had made the gesture, and Horexker wondered how long it would be before he actually destroyed the Human machine. The Ambassador had always had a short temper, but it was clear to Horexker that the events of this day had finally pushed him past his limit. Horexker watched his superior's breakdown with a stolid expression. Beside him, at the command center's main table, Junior Representative Gaxahyeng was much less calm. Horexker turned his head slightly to look at the Ambassador's deputy scratching nervously at the fur on the back of one hand.
Gaxahyeng twitched when the computer in Horexker's vest beeped. Horexker ignored the other official's inquisitive glance, but slowly tapped the computer to silence it. He stood up.
"Excuse me," he said, "I'll be in my office."
Gaxahyeng stared at him. "What should I do?" he asked, sounding desperate.
"I cannot help you," Horexker said, and walked for the door, leaving the poor fool to cower alone.
Horexker's office was on the same level as the command center, and it took him less than a minute to cross the halls.
The Bat standing outside his office placed a blue beret on her head and came to full attention when he came around the corner. Horexker returned the salute, and then opened the door to his office.
"Come in, Operative," he said.
She preceded him into the little office, then stood politely in front of his desk while Horexker walked around to sit behind it. He looked up at the Operative and waited for just a moment before saying, "Sit."
She accepted the invitation without comment, then met his gaze passively. The staring contest went on for a minute without either of them backing down. Horexker could find no fault with her composure, and certainly not her courage. He was still confident that he was stronger than her, and under normal circumstances would have been more than willing to accept the mental challenge. But he really didn't have time for this now.
He flicked a claw against the surface of his desk to break the silence. On the other side of the desk, the Operative relaxed slightly, not conceding the battle, but willing to postpone it for another time.
"Operative Yengagoying," he said, "can you guess why I asked to speak with you?"
"Because you need an intelligence assessment?" Her voice gave up nothing.
Horexker tapped on his desk a few times before answering. "Correct," he said. "I need you to tell me where Operative Hyongyaheek is."
"I have not seen him in a few hours, Commander. Have you tried his quarters?"
"Operative, you are an extremely capable agent, and I have nothing but respect for your abilities and your performance during your time on this station." He allowed his wings to extend slightly before continuing, "But you will cease this evasion immediately. Where is your commanding officer?"
For a moment, he thought she might try to resume the staring contest. But instead she answered, in a much harsher tone, "I do not know, Commander. I have not seen Operative Yaheek in nearly three hours, since he jumped out of his office window."
If she had expected this information to surprise Horexker, she was right. But if she had expected him to show his surprise, then she was mistaken. As a combat soldier, Horexker was well practiced in overriding his basic instincts to remain calm and rational. He forced himself to relax, and even curled his wings back from their hint of aggression.
"And he said nothing of where he was going?"
"No."
"Nor any indication of what he was going to do?"
She hesitated. It was a very subtle change in her posture, but Horexker caught it, and exploited it. He leaned backward very slightly, a friendly gesture, but timed to let her know he had noticed her reluctance.
Her shoulders drooped very slightly, and Horexker no longer had any doubt that he would have won their earlier mental contest.
"His intent was to keep our dispute with the Humans from turning violent long enough for it to be resolved."
"And how did he intend to accomplish this?"
"He did not specify."
Horexker mulled over his next question for a moment. Then asked, "Did Operative Hyongyaheek give you any instructions before jumping out of his office window?"
"Yes."
"What were they?"
"I was to resolve our dispute with the Humans."
That did shock Horexker enough that he couldn't hide his surprise. He sat straight up in his chair.
"And how were you to accomplish this?" he asked, incredulity leaking into his voice.
She waited nearly a minute before answering. Not out of an attempt to assert superiority, but out of a very obvious fear. At last, she said, "I was to send a message to Governor Shyankyang which would convince him to end Ambassador Hyarahek's operation and recall our vessels."
Horexker was on his feet in less than a second, wings fully extended. He kept one hand on his sidearm while the other reached for the computer on his vest. Before he could activate it and summon his warriors to arrest the Intelligence Operative, however, the computer buzzed at him on its own. He had received a message. Horexker activated the screen with a thumb, keeping one eye on the Operative still in her seat on the other side of his desk.
The message was from the Governor.
The Chief Executive had ended the call by asking Hyong to wait in the Foreign Ministry office where he had been escorted. The Bat now had a steward to bring him refreshments and several EPS guards outside the door to discourage him from leaving.
Earth's leaders were now sitting in silence again, contemplating the scenario laid out in front of them. Hyong had convinced Pascual that he was not attempting to deceive the Humans. Rather, the question now was whether Hyong was even sane. Pascual had to admit that he was not qualified to judge the merits of the scheme.
"Let's do it, Ed," Councilor Durante said, apparently having no such intellectual reservation. "It won't change our ability to respond if it does come to a fight. So it's worth a shot."
On the big monitor, Admiral Kozlov shook his head. "Due respect, Councilor, but that's not true. We might end up in a fight even if we do this, as you've said. But if we lose that fight, doing this means we'd have a hell of a time surrendering." He turned to the Chief Executive, "Losing isn't an outcome I like to think about, and it's not one I believe is likely, but it's something we need to consider anyway.
Eduard Molinas nodded and folded his hands in front of his face. He asked, "If there is a battle, would this affect our ability to win?"
"It might," Admiral Godavarthi fielded. "Depending on their commander's instructions, we could provoke them into opening fire immediately. On the other hand, if what the Bat says is true, we might be able to achieve a level of tactical surprise ourselves."
Pascual winced along with Councilors Durante and Trautmann, everyone else just looked grim. They all looked to the Chief Executive, who waited a few seconds before putting his hands calmly down on the table before him.
"We'll do it," he said. "We've only got Mr. Hyong Yaheek's word that Hyarahek is behind this, but the good Ambassador has been meddlesome enough that I'm inclined to believe him. In light of that history, I'll sooner take my chances with whoever Shyankyang's put on those ships. Let's take Hyarahek out of the game."
Both Kozlov and Godavarthi nodded their acknowledgment. The military men might have their doubts, but they were good soldiers; the decision had been made and they were going to implement it.
The Chief Executive went on, "That means I'm going to need to speak with President Sanderson and President Gómez, in that order," he looked over his shoulder to make sure his aides were keeping up. The tension in the meeting had lessened considerably now that people had something to do instead of just worrying about what should be done. "Actually," Molinas said, "get a hold of all the Big Four heads of state, the Security Council's going to want to pass a resolution after the fact. Who's our liaison to the national militaries?"
"That's Admiral Lagorio," Kozlov said, "I'll have someone call him."
"Wait," Pascual interjected, "I just had lunch with the guy. He's over at the Gran Meliá with the AU Defense Ministers."
The Chief Executive screwed up his eyes, "Was that this week?"
"We'll pick him up," Admiral Kozlov said before Pascual could grumble anything too vulgar about his uncle.
* * *
Hyarahek tapped absently at his personal computer. The Senior Representative of the Republican Diplomatic Service was just going through the motions; he was far too distracted to do any actual work at the moment. The task force would reach its destination in twenty minutes. Some minutes before that, however, Commander Horexker would summon him to the embassy's small command center, from where he would direct and observe the task force in its mission. The Humans would be insane to resist, but Hyarahek found himself hoping that they would, he wanted to see the results. He especially wanted to watch the savages' leader Molinas squirm. The Humans needed to be punished after their arrogance of the last week, and Hyarahek was eager to deliver.
The lights in his office flickered off for a moment, and were restored. Hyarahek sat up.
The lights' brief failure surprised him far more than it might have a Human resident of this planet. Although the embassy had been built by Humans and was integrated into the city's power infrastructure, it only ever drew local electricity to operate the handful of Human devices necessary for the embassy's function. Everything else, including the lights, was Bat-manufactured, and Bat equipment ran on dedicated batteries rather than any sort of centralized power grid. Such equipment still failed—even Hyarahek's people had not yet discovered the secrets of unlimited power or indestructible materials—but there should be no reason for an entire series of lights to fail simultaneously. The only common link among them was to the computer managing their operation.
Hyarahek glanced back down to the monitor of his computer. It had shut down and rebooted itself. The payroll documents he had been signing had reverted to their initial, blank, state. Some sort of computer failure, then. That was still unusual, but not entirely unheard of. Hyarahek would have to remember to ask one of his technicians what had happened. Well, he still probably had enough time to finish signing off on the payroll despite the setback; he opened the documents again.
Or not. Commander Horexker entered the office. Hyarahek set aside the payroll documents for now and slipped his computer back into his vest. He was reaching for his beret when he noticed the agitation showing in his military attaché's half-extended wings.
"Commander?" he asked.
Horexker took a moment to compose himself before responding. Hyarahek used the time to place his hat atop his head and straighten it. The beret was green, indicating the Diplomatic Service, with yellow chevrons to show his political authority.
The military attaché managed to control his emotions, and saluted. "Sir," he said, "I'm sorry, but you should come to the command center at once."
Hyarahek nodded and stood up, this was what he had been expecting, after all.
"The Humans have attacked the embassy," Horexker finished. Hyarahek froze.
"What?"
"Forgive me, Representative," Horexker said in a strained voice, "but I took a minute to confirm the information myself. It seems several human aircraft, almost indistinguishable from their passenger vehicles, have engaged the embassy with low-energy lasers. They've disabled most of our external sensors and communications equipment."
"They attacked us?" Hyarahek was having trouble believing the conversation he was having.
"Yes, sir. Although it seems to be more of a crude attempt to jam our sensors and communications. I'm sure that if the Humans intended to kill us they could have done so with far less effort."
Hyarahek understood that much, at least. His wings uncurled, "Kill us, Commander? What have your men been doing?"
"Sir," Horexker said with no escalation of his own emotions, "we've been attempting to determine what happened with our main sensors' records and using my warriors' personal scanners. I came to give my report as soon as we understood."
"Commander, your warriors' job is to defend this embassy from attacks such as the one that has apparently just happened. Why have you failed?"
"The only way to defend against this attack would be to destroy the Human aircraft, Representative. I am not authorized to use lethal force against the Humans except in cases of imminent danger to the embassy staff or by your own authorization."
"And this doesn't constitute imminent danger?"
"No, sir. As I said, this appears to be a non-lethal interdiction rather than an actual assault."
"Well it's still an attack! You have my authorization to destroy the Human aircraft, Commander. If the Humans want to war with us then I will gladly demonstrate just how—"
A loud beeping noise interrupted him, and Horexker took his computer off his vest in a swift motion to look at the urgent message he'd just received.
"Sir!" the military attaché's head popped up again, and he ran past Hyarahek to press himself against the office's big exterior window. Irked, Hyarahek turned to stand beside the Commander, and followed his gaze down to the streets below.
Hyarahek was only vaguely familiar with Humanity's sub-orbital military capabilities. Hyarahek's people had little interest in invading Earth. If war against the Humans ever did become necessary, all that would matter would be sweeping their tiny Fleet from space, after which the surface could be bombarded at the Bats' leisure. Still, the embassy had collected some cursory information on the Humans' ground forces, and it seemed like every regional leader Hyarahek met with wanted to show off his or her personal military contingent.
So Hyarahek at least had a basic understanding of what the machines moving towards the embassy building were for, if not exactly what they were capable of. The big ground cars were called tanks, and the Humans walking along side them were wearing armored suits which Hyarahek had been told were the species' equivalent of his own people's combat harnesses and gliders. The Senior Representatives turned his eyes upwards, but he did not see any of the aircraft which the Humans called helicopters or jets, and which he had been given to believe were just as important as the tanks.
"I'm afraid I'll need to revise my estimate of our capabilities, Representative," Horexker said grimly. "I will not be able to defend the embassy."
"Nonsense!" Hyarahek hissed, and turned on his attaché. "We are under attack! Order your warriors to destroy the Humans' aircraft as well as these ground forces!"
Horexker was incredulous, "I have less than twenty warriors, Sir. Enough to prevent entry to the embassy by criminals or troublemakers, but not enough to fight a war against the Humans! If we engage this force, we may kill a lot of Humans, but they are certain to defeat us, and will likely destroy the embassy in the process."
Hyarahek's wings were fully extended now, and he was smoldering. But he knew that blind anger was not going to help him here, he had to think. Why were the Humans mounting this ridiculous attack.
It should have been obvious, of course. And Hyarahek slapped the window with the claws of one hand when he realized it. The Humans must have learned about the task force, which meant two of his senior advisors had failed in their duties. Hyarahek turned around, and was about to storm off to skewer Hyong Yaheek when one of his deputies, Gaxahyeng, entered the office.
Gaxahyeng had been just a pup when the colony first arrived in this star system, and Hyarahek had been enjoying the opportunity to train a new diplomat for the Service. He thought the young aide showed great promise, but right now he looked frightened nearly out of his mind with his wings curled up as tightly as a vacuum suit.
"Sir," he said after a moment's hesitation, "the Humans are contacting us over their communications network. Councilor Khatib is demanding to speak with you at once."
* * *
Somehow, Pascual found himself sitting next to Rear Admiral Lagorio for the second time that afternoon. And somehow, the Italian officer's appearance had become even more vulture-like in the intervening hours since Pascual had seen him last.
Lagorio leaned towards Pascual and nudged him with an elbow.
"Say what you want about the Americans," he murmured, "but their Air Force still has the best toys of anyone this side of LEO."
Pascual sighed softly, and tried to ignore Lagorio. It was easy enough to find a distraction in the conference room now. Two more walls of monitors had been activated to show even more information. In the center, the teleconference screen had been subdivided to include the American and Venezuelan Presidents and their military commanders alongside Chief Molinas and Admiral Kozlov in the center.
On the wall to the right, monitors had been activated to display various bits of telemetry and satellite images of the space above Earth where the Bat ships were expected to arrive. The biggest screen were showing a simplified, not-to-scale summary of the battlespace, with a field of blue icons representing important Earth ships and satellites, and a swiftly approaching red blob indicating the inbound Bats. Next to that display was a video camera feed into the L-COM control room on the Moon. Pascual didn't know why that was up there. Obviously L-COM would be an important part of any battle that did occur—God forbid; but the time lag in communications between Earth and Luna meant no really useful instructions could be sent in the time it was likely to take for a battle to start and finish.
The left-hand wall was displaying several video feeds around Caracas, each showing a piece of the stand-off outside the Bat embassy, including one from the wing of one of the American "scammer" planes that was still blasting the embassy building with a microwave laser. There was also footage from a few of the Venezuelan APCs the local Ejército garrison had deployed. The most interesting part of the whole display, however, was the ongoing phone call between Deputy Councilor Khatib and Ambassador Hyarahek. Khatib had stepped into an adjoining room for the call, and neither he nor Hyarahek were patched into the big teleconference, but the signal was being relayed so Earth's leaders could monitor the conversation.
They could have sold tickets. Khatib was a holdover from the previous OES administration, and had never been terribly comfortable with the staff Chief Molinas had brought with him into the job. But despite personal tensions, no one doubted Khatib's ability, and he was proving it with this meeting. Khatib's job was fairly simple. While he was encouraged to convince Hyarahek to surrender if it seemed possible, he was mostly just supposed to keep the Bat ambassador talking, and to make sure Hyarahek was aware that he had no chance of stopping the Humans outside his door. No one was worried that Hyarahek could really do anything at this point, but nor did anyone want to have to deal with a situation where the Bat got himself killed thinking he could. So long as he was venting at Khatib, the other Humans could worry about their real problem: the incoming Bat warships.
And he was venting. The Bat's wings were fully extended for flight, which the OES' body language experts said was usually a visual indication of extreme anger or surprise. Pascual imagined that if Hyarahek were a cat, he'd be puffed up into an enormous fuzz ball at the moment. On the other end of the call, the Deputy Foreign Councilor was keeping his cool, and probably making Hyarahek even more furious by doing so. Several people in the crisis room chuckled as the Bat smashed some gadget on the desk before him with a fist.
"Nikita Khrushchev," said the American President, Harold Sanderson, suddenly. Several people blinked and turned toward his image on the screen. "That's who he reminds me of, Nikita Kruschev banging his shoe at the UN."
Admiral Kozlov frowned. Admiral Godavarthi looked very slowly towards the President's image and asked, "Who?"
It was the American's turn to frown. "Nikita Khrushchev, the Soviet Premier. He once got so angry at a General Assembly meeting that he took off a shoe and started banging it on a table."
"Oh," Godavarthi said, and turned away. "Forgive me; I never cared enough to study much of your history."
Pascual nearly choked, and he could see the American President's face turn purple on the video screen. Everyone knew that there was still a great deal of resentment for the United States among most of the OES members and their population, and a certain amount of rivalry between Earth Fleet and other Earth militaries was to be expected. But it was not exactly good form to call attention to such things with US officials present. Especially since, even despite his nation's unpopularity, President Sanderson still probably had enough clout to torpedo the EarthCOM commandant's career if he really wanted.
Before Godavarthi's insult could have any immediate repercussions, however, all of the screens on the right-hand wall of monitors went black. Everyone's head turned. The video feeds from the satellites had flashed briefly to blue before going down, and the video from L-COM cut out a second later. The tracking plot was the only screen which still showed some color, but all the position icons had disappeared, leaving only a dotted green line representing the orbit of the moon, which Pascual suspected was hard-coded.
"Something's happened," one of the anonymous Fleet technicians said, needlessly.
"Is it a computer problem?" Chief Molinas asked. The video screen in the Singapore conference room was too small to comfortably fit the same amount of data that the crisis room could handle, so he and Kozlov were leaning in towards one of several smaller monitors that had been placed on the table in front of them.
Another Fleet officer, a full Captain, responded from one end of a bank of computers. "No sir," he shook his head, "we've lost the signal from all of it."
"Jesus," said another officer seated at one of those computers, "orbital control is down for Singapore, Kampala, and the Maldives." He looked up at the Captain who'd spoken and shook his head, mouth hanging open.
"I can't raise any of our ships in that hemisphere, either," someone else said.
It was happening too fast for Pascual. His uncle asked, "Are they attacking us?"
"It looks that way, sir," Godavarthi said grimly.
"Fresh Eyesores coming over the horizon!" someone shouted. "Three seconds!"
The monitors on the wall flickered and readjusted as a new image replaced several of the dead feeds. "Eyesores" was a nickname for the European Space Agency's Orbital Reconnaissance Satellites, which provided some of Earth Fleet's monitoring capabilities in near-Earth space. The image which appeared on the screen looked to Pascual like any other picture of space that he'd ever seen.
Pascual was not a trained astronomer, however. An Earth Fleet lieutenant standing near the wall stabbed a finger at a point on the display. "That's new," he said definitively. As far as Pascual could tell, the star he was pointing to looked like any of the other hundreds of stars in the image.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" Admiral Kozlov asked, he couldn't see where the junior officer had pointed from his angle.
The lieutenant turned sharply, "Well, sir, it's either a supernova that's hit us in the last ten seconds, or it's a new ship out there."
"How far away?" that was the Chief Executive.
"There's no way to know, sir," Admiral Godavarthi said, "not without knowing how big they are."
"Singapore control is back online," one of the officers who'd spoken earlier announced. "They're pretty spooked."
"What happened?" Councilor Trautmann asked.
"They saw some bright lights," the officer shrugged, "they don't really know."
"We're getting some of the sats back," a technician said, "looks like everything's rebooting."
One by one, screens that had gone to black popped back to life on the monitors. None of them seemed to show any dramatic changes from what had been up before, however. Then the primary tracking display came back.
"Holy shit."
Pascual didn't know who said it, but from the looks on all the Earth Fleet officers' faces, it could have been any one of them. Not all of the blue icons representing Human ships and satellites had returned to the display; though even as Pascual watched more were winking back into existence. He assumed that the exclamation was directed at the red icons on the display, which had now been resolved into four discrete triangles representing separate Bat ships. Little tags were attached to each, showing a series of numbers that Pascual didn't understand.
"What?" he asked. Probably for the benefit of the other civilians, too, as all of them seemed just as lost.
The lieutenant who had pointed out the ship in the star field tapped one of the red triangles with the same finger. "This," he said. He ran his finger in an arc across the other three indicators, which were ahead of the first ship, closer to Earth's line of defenses. "These look like some of their local defense ships, the ones we've designated as "Sparrow"-class destroyers. They're about 200 meters long, we estimate maybe three or four guns, lasers."
He tapped the fourth ship again, "This, however, is not a class we recognize, and the satellites are pegging its size around 20 kilometers."
"Holy shit," someone else said, one of the civilian aides along the wall.
"What are they doing?" Chief Molinas asked.
"Nothing at the moment, sir" Godavarthi said. "They're parked in orbit. A hell of a distant orbit, that is, but right now they're just sitting there."
"The hell they are, they just knocked down half our space infrastructure!" Councilor Durante exclaimed. "Shouldn't we be shooting them?"
"Hey," Trautmann interjected, "how could they just stop? Don't you have to decelerate?"
"Usually." Godavarthi said.
"But?"
Godavarthi shrugged, "You usually can't travel faster than light, either. Doesn't seem to stop the Bats."
"Hey that's something," said the lieutenant by the screen. "This could be one of their FTL ships, it's big enough. And we always get those little X-ray bursts whenever those show up. Maybe we just saw one up close."
"Is that good or bad?" Durante asked.
"Bad," Kozlov answered, "whatever it was just burned out all our sensors, as you noticed."
"All right people, let's get a handle on ourselves," Chief Molinas said, and the buzz of chatter which had been escalating quickly died.
The Chief Executive turned his head slightly, "President Sanderson, President Gómez, thank you for your assistance in all this, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to deal with the rest of this now. Admiral Lagorio will continue to liaise with your own commanders through the rest the operation. If you'll excuse me."
Sanderson nodded coolly. Gómez was a little more understanding. "Good luck, Ed," he said before his part of the call was terminated, and the screen returned to black.
"All right," Chief Molinas said after the two Presidents were gone. "Admiral, if you will," he nodded to Lagorio.
"Yes, sir," the vulture-like Italian stood up and walked away from the table so that he could work with the USAF and Ejército commanders from another room. Pascual breathed a little sigh of relief to see him go.
Molinas turned to Admiral Godavarthi, "So the ships aren't doing anything else yet? There's been no shooting?"
"Assuming that whatever blasted all our sensors wasn't a weapon, then no sir."
"Okay," the Chief Executive took a deep breath, "then so far it seems Mr. Hyong Yaheek has been telling us the truth. Why don't we get him back on the line?"
* * *
Everyone expected things to start happening quickly once the flotilla had arrived. Everyone was wrong. Since showing up, the Bat ships had done precisely nothing except wait in orbit. The Earth Fleet people were saying that the orbit was too distant to be maintained by gravity alone, so the ships had to be running their engines, but Pascual thought that hardly counted as actually doing anything. They were making no maneuvers, nor taking any sort of aggressive action. They had made no attempt to communicate with Earth Fleet, and were not responding to the Humans own attempts to make contact. That was a little troublesome, but so far everyone was being very careful to avoid calling it threatening behavior. So far as anyone could tell, the ships had not tried to contact the Bat embassy, either.
"How long do we just wait for them to do something?" Councilor Durante asked.
"Well since our strategy is to run out the clock on them," Councilor Trautmann replied, "I think we should wait as long as they'll let us."
The Foreign Councilor muttered something, but nodded.
"I am pretty bored, though," Trautmann said, and put his forehead down on the conference table for a moment, "how much longer do we have on our clock?"
"Depends on how fast Hyong's plan takes to work," Pascual offered, "if it does at all."
"That's assuming the Bat isn't lying to us," Durante pointed out.
"Yes, assuming that," said the Chief Executive from the other side of the video screen. The room fell quiet again after he spoke.
They passed a few minutes in silence before Admiral Kozlov looked up from one of the printed reports that were being handed to him in an endless stream. He took off his glasses and looked at Pascual's uncle.
"Well, while we're waiting," he said, "EarthCOM's got five more people with radiation poisoning. Two couples and a tour guide were on a spacewalk around Singapore station."
"Oh Christ," someone muttered from along the wall, Pascual glanced up to see Councilor Trautmann's press secretary shaking his head. The Financial Councilor made a sharp gesture over his shoulder to silence his assistant.
"They're being taken to University Hospital with the rest from Earth Orbit," Kozlov finished.
"How many does that bring us to?" the Chief Executive asked.
"Twenty-six here and L-COM's got thirty-two," Admiral Godavarthi said.
"Why is it more on the moon?" asked Trautmann.
"Luck," Godavarthi answered. "Quito was pretty much on the exact opposite side of the planet when the event happened. If there'd been line-of-sight to Bonestell Yards, we'd be hospitalizing three hundred people, not sixty."
A Captain watching over one of the banks of computers spoke up. "Don't forget they're installing computers in the Bangkok this week. That burst might have fried her for good."
There were frowns all around the conference tables. Chief Molinas said to Kozlov, "Well Admiral, we'd better work on some kind of better shielding for our spacesuits and for the Boneyards in case this isn't the last one of these."
"Agreed," Kozlov said.
The Financial Councilor sighed deeply, then shrugged when he noticed everyone looking at him. "I can't argue about the necessity of such changes," he held out his hands palms out, "but at the rate we're going we'll have spent our budget for the next two years by July."
"The members are just going to have to cough up bigger contributions," Durante said, resting one cheek on a fist. "The last two administrations said so as well."
Trautmann opened his mouth to say something in reply, but he was cut off by an Earth Fleet officer in the computer banks on the other side of the room. "Excuse me sirs," the man called, "but L-COM's managed to raise the alien flotilla."
"Stand up, son," said the Captain at the end of the row of computers. The officer, a Lieutenant, did so. Admiral Kozlov and Chief Molinas both turned their heads slightly; the conference room cameras must have adjusted to show the Lieutenant. "All right, report," the Captain said.
"Sir, the commander of the flotilla has established a communication link with L-COM. They've been challenging the fleet without a response, as you know," the Lieutenant shifted his head slightly, as if he was unsure if his superiors actually did know that bit of information.
"Okay," the Chief Executive said, then glanced at one of the computer screens in front of him before holding out his hands. "Where'd Admiral Blevins go? Why isn't he telling me this?"
"Technical problem with the comm gear, Sir," the Lieutenant said, looking embarrassed, "the computers keep dropping the conference call, something went wrong after the burst. They've been flashing us updates through regular channels. We're pretty sure the problem's with—"
Admiral Kozlov held up a hand to stop the boy, "Nevermind, Lieutenant. Just tell us what's happening with the fleet."
The junior officer straightened up, "Yes, sir. As I said they've responded to the hails. L-COM doesn't know what they're saying yet, though, because they're speaking the Bat language. They're getting a translator."
"Why are they speaking Bat?' the Chief Executive asked. The Lieutenant just shrugged.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," his Captain said, and gestured for the young man to sit down, which he did with visible relief. The Captain turned to the screen and said, "We'll keep you posted when we know something more."
Admiral Godavarthi nodded approvingly, and the Captain stepped back to his post. On the video screen, Chief Molinas tugged at his cheek.
"What does it mean?" he asked no one in particular.
"Well," Pascual said, and glanced around the room to make sure he wasn't speaking out of turn before going on, "if they're from the colony's permanent defense fleet, they may just not have anyone on board that speaks English."
"And they can't just use a computer?" The Chief Executive snorted and pointed a finger at Pascual, "I remember when you used to play with an online English-to-Bat translator. If we can do that…"
Councilor Durante looked up at the ceiling and smirked. "My non-sentient back-clinger is eating my nest job," he said.
Pascual chuckled along with most of the other people at the tables before continuing, "We know they have translation software, and it's probably a lot better than ours. But it might not be standard equipment, especially for a ship which is just going to be guarding their colony."
"And especially not if they didn't think they'd need to speak to us," Godavarthi added darkly.
"Excuse me, sirs" the Captain from the computer banks spoke up again, "L-COM reports that their intel officer has translated the Bats' initial message. Apparently the flotilla's commander, Captain—ah—Yegrang, is demanding to speak with Ambassador Hyarahek."
"We are able to respond, I hope?" Durante asked.
"Yes, sir. The intelligence officer knows the Bats' language and they've got a speech synthesizer."
Durante nodded. Ever since the Humans' first contact with the Bats, English had been the preferred language of communication for purely practical reasons. Bats could, after much study, learn to speak English, or at least approximate it close enough for Humans to understand them. However, while a Human could learn to understand Bat speech, no one had yet been able to replicate all the necessary sounds using his own vocal cords.
"All right," Chief Molinas said, "let's tell L-COM to brush them off. Tell Captain Yegrang we'll pass along his request, but suggest he contact the Ambassador using their own equipment."
"Yes sir," the Earth Fleet Captain turned back to his computers.
"And what do we do when he starts to push us for more than that?" the Foreign Councilor asked his boss.
Chief Molinas looked at him. "Then we push back."
* * *
Junior Group Commander Horexker of the Republican Navy watched through the transparent wall of one of the command center's communications cubicles as Ambassador Hyarahek seized the rectangular screen which displayed Councilor Khatib's face, and made as if to tear it from the wall. It was not the first time Hyarahek had made the gesture, and Horexker wondered how long it would be before he actually destroyed the Human machine. The Ambassador had always had a short temper, but it was clear to Horexker that the events of this day had finally pushed him past his limit. Horexker watched his superior's breakdown with a stolid expression. Beside him, at the command center's main table, Junior Representative Gaxahyeng was much less calm. Horexker turned his head slightly to look at the Ambassador's deputy scratching nervously at the fur on the back of one hand.
Gaxahyeng twitched when the computer in Horexker's vest beeped. Horexker ignored the other official's inquisitive glance, but slowly tapped the computer to silence it. He stood up.
"Excuse me," he said, "I'll be in my office."
Gaxahyeng stared at him. "What should I do?" he asked, sounding desperate.
"I cannot help you," Horexker said, and walked for the door, leaving the poor fool to cower alone.
Horexker's office was on the same level as the command center, and it took him less than a minute to cross the halls.
The Bat standing outside his office placed a blue beret on her head and came to full attention when he came around the corner. Horexker returned the salute, and then opened the door to his office.
"Come in, Operative," he said.
She preceded him into the little office, then stood politely in front of his desk while Horexker walked around to sit behind it. He looked up at the Operative and waited for just a moment before saying, "Sit."
She accepted the invitation without comment, then met his gaze passively. The staring contest went on for a minute without either of them backing down. Horexker could find no fault with her composure, and certainly not her courage. He was still confident that he was stronger than her, and under normal circumstances would have been more than willing to accept the mental challenge. But he really didn't have time for this now.
He flicked a claw against the surface of his desk to break the silence. On the other side of the desk, the Operative relaxed slightly, not conceding the battle, but willing to postpone it for another time.
"Operative Yengagoying," he said, "can you guess why I asked to speak with you?"
"Because you need an intelligence assessment?" Her voice gave up nothing.
Horexker tapped on his desk a few times before answering. "Correct," he said. "I need you to tell me where Operative Hyongyaheek is."
"I have not seen him in a few hours, Commander. Have you tried his quarters?"
"Operative, you are an extremely capable agent, and I have nothing but respect for your abilities and your performance during your time on this station." He allowed his wings to extend slightly before continuing, "But you will cease this evasion immediately. Where is your commanding officer?"
For a moment, he thought she might try to resume the staring contest. But instead she answered, in a much harsher tone, "I do not know, Commander. I have not seen Operative Yaheek in nearly three hours, since he jumped out of his office window."
If she had expected this information to surprise Horexker, she was right. But if she had expected him to show his surprise, then she was mistaken. As a combat soldier, Horexker was well practiced in overriding his basic instincts to remain calm and rational. He forced himself to relax, and even curled his wings back from their hint of aggression.
"And he said nothing of where he was going?"
"No."
"Nor any indication of what he was going to do?"
She hesitated. It was a very subtle change in her posture, but Horexker caught it, and exploited it. He leaned backward very slightly, a friendly gesture, but timed to let her know he had noticed her reluctance.
Her shoulders drooped very slightly, and Horexker no longer had any doubt that he would have won their earlier mental contest.
"His intent was to keep our dispute with the Humans from turning violent long enough for it to be resolved."
"And how did he intend to accomplish this?"
"He did not specify."
Horexker mulled over his next question for a moment. Then asked, "Did Operative Hyongyaheek give you any instructions before jumping out of his office window?"
"Yes."
"What were they?"
"I was to resolve our dispute with the Humans."
That did shock Horexker enough that he couldn't hide his surprise. He sat straight up in his chair.
"And how were you to accomplish this?" he asked, incredulity leaking into his voice.
She waited nearly a minute before answering. Not out of an attempt to assert superiority, but out of a very obvious fear. At last, she said, "I was to send a message to Governor Shyankyang which would convince him to end Ambassador Hyarahek's operation and recall our vessels."
Horexker was on his feet in less than a second, wings fully extended. He kept one hand on his sidearm while the other reached for the computer on his vest. Before he could activate it and summon his warriors to arrest the Intelligence Operative, however, the computer buzzed at him on its own. He had received a message. Horexker activated the screen with a thumb, keeping one eye on the Operative still in her seat on the other side of his desk.
The message was from the Governor.