seemed as if everything he touched was cursed. The plan to destabilize Earth, and thereby weaken the Confederacy, had very nearly succeeded, would have succeeded, had his coconspirators been more competent. Subsequent efforts, such as the plot to kill DomaSa, had proved equally disastrous. Still, he who tunnels must move some dirt, so that’s what he would do. Omo took his seat, preened the areas to either side of his beak, and allowed his mind to wander. It was spring in Hive’s northern hemisphere—and the politician wished he could see it. DomaSa stepped out of his cabin, checked to ensure that the hatch was locked, and strode down the corridor. Beings who had previously gone to considerable lengths to ignore the Hudathan nodded, smiled, or waved. All because their perceptions had changed. Now, after weeks of surprisingly positive media coverage, the Hudathans had miraculously been transformed from villains to heroes. Never mind the fact that they hadn’t changed in the least and viewed their new allies with the same level of paranoia reserved for the oncoming Sheen. The stupidity of their psychology astounded him. The entire lot of them were beneath contempt. Yet, there he was, nodding in return, giving the scum what they craved. The illusion of solidarity. Why? Because they had him by the testicles that’s why. Imagine! Hudathans fighting for a human general... The great Hiween PoseenKa never would have believed it. Ah well, the War Commander thought to himself, nothing lasts forever. Not even our shame. The thought brought comfort and put a bounce into his step.
Senator Ishimoto Six stabbed a button with his index finger, waited for the platform to arrive, and stepped aboard. It carried him upwards. Any number of things rode on the upcoming meeting: the safety of his people, his position as a senator, and the way in which Maylo perceived him—something he still wasn’t sure of. Which would be worse, the politician wondered. Failing my government? Or losing Maylo? Not that I have her. The platform coasted to a halt. Six nodded to a staffer and stepped out onto the deck. The corridor led him away. A younger version of the same man had fantasized about being at the center of things, about making a difference, and his dreams had come true. But what was the saying? Be careful what you wish for? You might just get it? Suddenly it made sense. The watch had changed, breakfast was over, and the Friendship’s corridors were relatively empty. A senator rushed past, nodded, and kept on going. Maylo ChienChu forced a smile. Her heeis clacked on the deck. General William Booty had boarded the ship some twelve hours before and would chair the meeting. Ishimoto Six would attend as well. The knowledge left a hollow place at the bottom of her stomach. It was silly, she knew that, but true nonetheless. Would Booly detect the nature of her relationship with Samuel? And why did she care? The officer was yesterday’s news ... Or was he? Some very expensive lab-grown roses had arrived just a few days before. Right smack on the six-month anniversary of what amounted to their first date. Damn it! She was too old for this sort of crap. The executive cursed her own stupidity, increased her pace, and passed a maintenance bot. It scrubbed the deck.
The conference room was packed by the time Booly arrived. There were familiar faces, like those that belonged to Admiral Angie Tyspin, the naval officer who had risked her life and career to help the 13thDBLE during the mutiny. Major, no Colonel Nancy Winters, his newly named chief of staff, Major Andre Kara, his inter-service liaison officer, and CO of the 1 st Foreign Regiment, Colonel Kitty Kirby, CO of the 13thDBLE, War Commander Wenio MortaKa, CO of the newly integrated 3rdForeign Infantry Regiment, his superior. Ambassador DomaSa, Battle Leader Pasar Hebo, CO of the 4thForeign Infantry Regiment, Senator Alway Omo, representing the Ramanthian government. General Jonathan Alan Seebo346, CO of the 2ndForeign Parachute Regiment, plus a lot of beings he hadn’t met, and last, but certainly not least, Maylo ChienChu.
She sat toward the front of the room, next to Ambassador DomaSa, and smiled when his eyes made contact with hers. A spark jumped the gap, and the legionnaire remembered how those same eyes had stared up at him from the misery of a prison cell. And later, over a dinner table on a beach inRio , and eventually in the warmth of his bed. What had gone wrong anyway? And how could he fix it?
Winters cleared her throat, and Booly realized that he should have spoken by then. He forced a smile.
“Good morning—if that’s what this is. Thank you for coming. We have a lot to accomplish, so let’s get started.”
Booly paused and allowed his eyes to drift across the room. “This is a truly historic occasion. The creation of new alliances, the structures required to make them viable, and the problems that naturally follow.
“As I look out on your faces, I see both soldiers and civilians. There are a number of different cultures represented here, so the mix may or may not seem natural to you. Please suspend whatever doubts you may have, and give the process a chance. We have very little time. Civilian support is critical. Without it, we cannot possibly win. It’s my belief that everyone must come to agreement on the overall strategy, and once that’s accomplished, the military will do its best to carry the plan forward. Does anyone have questions regarding that approach?”
There were questions, niggling matters for the most part, as various beings sought to establish their importance, impress their counterparts, or simply exercise their mouth parts. Ishimoto Six, who sat to Maylo’s right, tuned them out. He was much more interested in watching her out of the comer of his eye. And what the senator saw disturbed him. Her relationship with General Booty was over—everyone said so—but what of her eyes? They suggested something different.
The clone looked at Booly. The soldier answered a question. The Sheen were coming—that was the point of the meeting—so what would happen then? Booly was brave—everyone agreed on that—which meant he would participate in the fighting. Perhaps the machines would kill him. It was a small thought, a horrible thought, but one he couldn’t shake.
“So,” Booly said, “did I answer your questions? Good. Let’s move to the next step. The presentation materials have been downloaded to your personal comps so there’s no need to take a lot of notes. I would remind you that this material is secret and not for disclosure to anyone who hasn’t been cleared.”
Omo listened to the translation, wondered if the last comment was directed at him, and decided it didn’t matter. The Thraki were the only party that might be interested, and they were losers. Or would be, assuming Booly made the logical moves. “Here’s the situation,” Booly began, and turned to watch a holo bloom at his side. The star map, prepared with the aid of clones themselves, showed most of the Hegemony. “Reduced to the simplest possible terms, the Sheen have been chasing the Thraki for hundreds if not thousands of years, and plan to eradicate their race. Why? They aren’t sure, and neither are we.
“Thraki politics revolve around two groups, the Runners, who favor continued flight, and the Facers, who want to turn and fight. About the time that the Thraki armada entered Hegemony-controlled space—the Facers took control of the government.”
