fault would be hers. For assuming too much, for failing to anticipate the possibilities, and for underestimating the enemy. The knowledge brought blood to her face and made her chest feel tight. Comfort came from an unexpected source. “It wasn’t your fault,” Jepp said softly,
“there was no way you could know. Not even I knew the Sheen could follow a ship through hyperspace.”
That wasn’t strictly true, of course, since Jepp had had inklings of such a capability, but he liked Typsin and wanted her to fee! better. And, though she would have been reluctant to admit it, the naval officer did feel somewhat better, and turned her attention to the screens. Jepp tried to guess what the Hoon would do next. The AI had already revealed a level of political sophistication greater than he had originally supposed. First, during the power struggle with its twin—and now in its dealings with both the Confederacy and the Thrakies. One thing was for sure, however. While some beings played power games for the fun of it, the Hoon had little interest in such diversions. It wanted to win—and nothing else mattered.
A full minute elapsed before Grand Admiral Andragna appeared. “We find the Confederacy’s conditions to be acceptable—and are willing to comply.”
A computer generated image of Jepp filled the corn screen half a second later. He smiled. ‘The peaceloving Sheen agree to the conditions and stand ready to negotiate.” The image faded to static. Tyspin raised an eyebrow, and Jepp shrugged innocently. “What am I supposed to do? It’s not like the Hoon asked my permission or anything.”
The admiral turned as President Nankool reappeared. A digital readout filled the tower righthand corner of the frame. “Excellent. Prepare to deactivate targeting systems sixty seconds from now ... Weapons to follow.”
It took less than five minutes for the warships of both fleets to power down but more than six hours for the Confederate Navy to gather the requisite data, process it, and produce the necessary reports, reports that became outdated the moment they were issued but were supplemented by a hastily rigged sampling program meant to monitor compliance. It was scant protection—but all that the Confederacy had. Nankool’s message was issued a few minutes later. “Thank you for your patience. As of 1500 hours local, we find both sides in compliance. That being the case, envoys from both fleets are invited to board the Friendship six hours from now. No more than twelve representatives from each fleet will be allowed to board the vessel that serves as our capital. If you have questions regarding protocol or logistics please contact my staff on corn channel six. Thank you.”
The Hoon was everywhere and nowhere in particular—flitting from ship to ship, riding recon drones no larger than a pebble, gorging itself on data. Data regarding the system in which the battle would take place, data on the fools who believed its lies, and data on the Thraki who had nowhere to run. Not alt of the Thraki, because fully 25 percent of their ships were missing, but most of them. The rest could and would be dealt with later. Yes, there was much to learn and every reason to learn it, especially given the fact mat if the Thraki fleet were added to the Confederate fleet the resulting force would be equal to all of its units combined. The Hoon had never faced an enemy that powerful before, never fought a battle with anything like parity, and didn’t want to lose. That being the case, it was time to stall—a task for which the soft body was uniquely suited. The necessary orders were issued, re ceived, and ultimately complied with.
Grand Admiral Hooloo Andragna was more frightened than he cared to admit—not only by the size and power of the two fleets that opposed him—but by the extent to which the entire dynamic had changed. Rather than attack, as he had supposed that they would, the Sheen had agreed to negotiate. Or had they? What about the human who claimed to speak for them? Did he have any actual authority? And what did he want?
Of equal or even more concern was the manner in which the Confederacy had responded to the situation. He had hoped, no assumed, that they would out and out capitulate, or failing that, waffle back and forth. Instead they evidenced vision, courage, and ironclad determination. Not a very good sign. The naval officer sighed and released his harness. Another more elaborate uniform waited in his quarters. He hated the damn thing and wondered who had been responsible for it. A Runner? Or a Facer? It made no difference. Now, with thousands of ships waiting to attack, neither philosophy seemed especially valid. Andragna thought about his wife, gave thanks that she was on Zynig47, and left the control room. The command crew watched him go.
President Marcott Nankool, Governor Sergi ChienChu, Maylo ChienChu. Ambassador Hiween DomaSa, Ambassador Tula Nogo Mypop, Senator Samuel Ishimoto Six, and a clutch of advisors stood at the center of the Friendship’s bridge. Admiral Chang was present, as was Captain Boone. Everyone stared at the battle screens arrayed above their heads. “So,” Nankool said gravely, “is that it? Is that all of them?”
“Maybe,” Chang answered. “The number matches the information gathered by the Ninja off Transit Point NS690193. So, unless the goddamned machines have some reserves they haven’t shown us yet, we’re up against a force of six thousand vessels.”
“More like nine thousand if we have to fight both fleets,” DomaSa growled. True,” Chang conceded, “which is why I hope President Nankool is one helluva good negotiator.” She grinned, but no one joined her.
“Which brings us to the upcoming talks,” ChienChu said quietly. “What do we have on this Jepp person?”
Boone shrugged. “He was a prospector based on Long Jump. Had a ship, but it was mortgaged to the hilt. He disappeared and was given up for dead. When the Sheen arrived, so did he. An army of robots landed, took to the streets, and spouted a lot of religious nonsense. It appeared he was in charge. Then, for reasons we’re not sure of, the machines attacked.”
“So, he really does have some clout,” Senator Mypop put in.
“Maybe,” Boone allowed, “but Admiral Tyspin has her doubts. She spent some time with the man and thinks that whatever influence he has is extremely limited. Take those messages for example . . . both of them were computer generated. Jepp was surprised to see his face on the screen. The Hegemony spent quite a lot of time talking to the Thraki. They claim the real power lies with an artificial intelligence known as the Hoon.”
