cope. Cold air blasted out of an overhead vent, and ChienChu felt his cybernetic body adjust accordingly. DomaSa shuffled his feet, and servos whined as an exoskeleton clad Dweller shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Nankool placed the printout on the surface of his highly polished wood desk, arranged it just so, and met their eyes. “So? Your presence speaks more eloquently than words. You know what Admiral Tyspin sent me—what would you suggest?”
DomaSa waited to see if anyone would speak, realized they weren’t sure of what to say, and broke the silence. “BETA018 has been secured, but the Thraki occupy other worlds as well. The more time we buy, the more General Booly has to work with.”
Nankool scanned their faces. “How ‘bout the rest of you? Do you agree?”
ChienChu nodded and glanced around. There was no dissention for once ... a rare and memorable moment.
A message torp was dispatched an hour later. A Sheen probe was allowed to follow it. They hit the outward-bound transit point within minutes of each other and seemed to wink out of existence A reply was on the way.
Transit Point NS690193, the Confederacy of Sentient Beings
The launch bay was no different from the last time Jorely Jepp had been there. Ships sat in what appeared to be random fashion but was actually a mathematically precise arrangement that allowed the Sheen to use the available space in the most efficient possible manner. Ropes of silvery nano hung, crawled, and in one case squirmed across the bay. The tang of ozone flavored the air. Only one thing was different and that was the way the human felt: happy, excited, and nearly giddy with joy. The message torp had returned. An agreement had been reached. He, Jorely Jepp, exprospector, debtor, and all around loser was on his way to visit with President Marcott Nankool!
No, he told himself, not visit, but negotiate on behalf of God and the heathen waiting to be saved. An account would be written one day, a tome on a par with the Holy Bible or the Koran. A book that would tell the tale of the savior who emerged from the cosmic wasteland accompanied by a silvery host. The very thought of it filled the human’s heart to the breaking point. He seized Veera’s clawlike hand. “Come on! This is our moment!”
Veera knew the human was trying to be generous—but suffered no illusions. Her moment would come when she was back among her own kind. In the meantime, with no other possibilities in sight, the lunatic at her side offered the best opportunity of escape. They boarded the shuttle. Henry, along with Alpha, followed behind.
Given how unstable her guest appeared to be, and given the extent of the power he might be able to call upon, Tyspin planned to be at the lock to greet him. That’s why she was down in the ready room—watching a bank of monitors.
The shuttle slowed as it approached the ship, followed a brightly lit drone into the bay, and settled onto its skids. The vessel was sufficiently streamlined so that it could operate within a planetary atmosphere. It shimmered as if lit from within. Here, at least, was something of an intelligence coup since an entire battery of sensors had been specially rigged to gather information on the enemy ship. Even if the contact with Jepp proved futile, anything they could learn about Sheen technology could prove very valuable indeed.
The shuttle landed, a hatch opened, and a ramp hit hull metal. The Ninja’s deck master wore bright orange space armor. He approached the ramp and waited for the visitor to disembark. Jepp, or a figure that Tyspin assumed was Jepp, was a sight to see. In spite of the fact that he had an entire fleet to back him, the exprospector wore the same suit of dilapidated, much patched space armor in which he had been captured. And what was that perched on his shoulder? Some sort of machine? That’s what it looked like.
There was more, however—including an entourage which caught Tyspin by surprise. The second individual to emerge from the shuttle wore a type of space armor she didn’t recognize until her intel officer turned in her direction. His name was DorbaKa, and he spoke standard with a slight hiss. “Where did the Prithian come from? What’s going on here?”
What indeed? Tyspin wondered as the odd couple made their way across the repulsor blackened deck toward the entry lock. That’s when the robots appeared. Form follows function, and the first pair looked similar to the navy issue general-purpose androids assigned to her ship. The units that followed were considerably different. There were four altogether, as similar as ball bearings, and protected by force fields. Arms ended in what appeared to be energy projectors, heads swiveled from left to right, and they moved in unison.
“They look dangerous,” the intel officer said conversationally. “Can the marines handle them?”
It was a good question, but Tyspin had other things to worry about as well. Should she treat Jepp like a head of state? Someone entitled to armed guards, even within the hull of a Confederate warship? Or refuse to admit them? And risk a confrontation? A confrontation with catastrophic results? It was a nasty decision and one she would have preferred to avoid.
But Jepp had arrived in front of the lock, and time had run out. The entire side party, which consisted of the intel officer, a chief petty officer, and a squad of smart looking marines all turned to look at her. The decision, which she would live to regret, emerged as a croak. “Let them in.” The hatch cycled open, the visitors spent the requisite time in the lock, and were admitted to the ship. Jepp, who, with the exception of his brief stay on Long Jump, had been cut off from humankind, stopped to take it in. The faces, the sounds, the faint odor of cooking all rushed to fill his senses. The admiral said something but the exprospector failed to process the words. He felt a little bit dizzy but managed to keep his feet. Those around him seemed unaware of his discomfort and led him down a long, sterile corridor.
The robots followed behind. Alpha discerned little of interest, Henry was on the lookout for some way to escape,
