Conscious of the clones in the room—the officer chose his next words with care. “The Hegemony greeted the newcomers in what can only be described as a peaceful fashion, allowed them to establish some bases, and settled into what they assumed would be a peaceful coexistence.”
All as part of a cynical attempt to use the Thraki against the Confederacy, Maylo thought to herself. . . Not that she blamed Booly for leaving that out—since his job was to strengthen the alliance not destroy it.
“Unfortunately,” Booly continued, “the Hegemony had no way to know that the Thraki hoped to use them as a sacrificial pawn.”
There was a pause while someone explained the game of chess to a Dweller at the back of the room.
“More than that,” Booly went on, “it now appears that the Thraki hierarchy hoped to use the rest of the Confederacy in much the same manner. A plan that could still succeed if we allow them to remain where they are.
“We don’t know a whole lot about the Sheen, only what the Thraki have chosen to share, and the report citizen Williams brought in. However, assuming that those reports are accurate, the machines are absolutely ruthless and will lay waste to any planet found to harbor the Thraki.”
“So let’s go to Zynig47 and root the bastards out,” the senator from Turr growled. “It would serve the unnamable interlopers right.”
Booly had been expecting a comment of that sort and nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, it would. But there’s a problem. Even now, after the consolidation of our forces, the Thraki have more ships than we do. A lot more. Admiral Tyspin”
Tyspin rose and made her way to the front of the room. She wore a blue flight suit, the star that denoted her rank, but none of the many decorations to which she was entitled. Though not especially pretty, there was strength in her face, and her eyes gleamed with intelligence. They were green and swept the compartment like lasers. “What General Booly told you was correct... The Thraki fleet, or armada as they prefer to call it, consists of more than five thousand ships, plus auxiliary craft equivalent to shuttles, tugs, tankers and so on.”
Tyspin pointed toward the holo that appeared next to her. A series of computer-rendered ships appeared. “The main body of the armada consists of supply ships, which might more accurately be referred to as ‘factory ships,’ since they carry raw materials plus the robotic machinery required to manufacture every item the fleet requires.
“The factory vessels are protected by three types of warships roughly analogous to what we refer to as battleships, destroyers, and fighters, though of differing displacements. It should be noted that all of their vessels are equipped with standardized weapons and propulsion systems, something that gives them a logistical advantage and represents an area that we haven’t even started to address.”
It was a telling point and one that some of the civilians hadn’t considered as yet. There were thousands of differences between the ships built on Hive, Earth, and Alpha001, a factor that would add a great deal of complexity to any effort aimed at using them in a concerted fashion. Some, dismayed by what they heard, felt their hearts begin to sink.
Tyspin scanned their faces. “Sorry, but that’s not the worst of it. Thanks to countless years of unremitting warfare the Thraki have evolved into a race of warriors, which, with the possible exception of the Hudathans, is something none of us can claim to be. That culture—that toughness—is a weapon in and of itself. Questions?”
There was silence for a moment, followed by a voice from the back of the room. The figure who rose wore a black pressure suit, which made him instantly recognizable. The senator from the Drac Axis seemed to grind the words out. ‘”Ships, many have we?”
Tyspin was barely able to recognize the syntax as a question. She didn’t trust the Drac, knew they were among the least dependable members of the Confederacy, but had very little choice. To conceal such information, or seem to conceal the information, could weaken the already flimsy alliance. She could feel Booly, Maylo, and others staring at her, wondering how she would respond.
“We are still in the process of assessing the extent of our assets—but current estimates run to about thirty-five hundred ships of various classes and sizes.”
“Plenty should be,” the Drac gurgled. “Ships too many get in each other’s way.”
“There’s some truth to what you say,” the naval officer conceded. “Large fleets require advanced command and control infrastructures and generate all manner of logistical problems. There is one additional factor, however. . . Besides the ships mentioned earlier, the Thraki possess a number of moon-sized arks—all of which are heavily armed. We on the other hand have nothing that even begins to compare with that sort of throw weight.”
The answer seemed to satisfy the Drac, or at least silence him, because he took his seat. Booly stood.
“Thank you. Admiral. Now, with that information in mind, lei’s examine the alternatives.”
The holo swirled and morphed into text. It dissolved from one language to another. “We have a number of choices,” Booly continued. “We could take no action whatsoever, hoping that the Sheen will ignore us, we can attempt an alliance with the Thraki, remembering their plans to use us, or we can pursue unilateral action. My staff and I recommend option three.”
