“I see,” Thomas said. “Is it safe?”
“Probably,” Captain Ryman said. “It isn't as if we didn't just save them from being killed and eaten.”
He said nothing else as they entered the Pan-Gal and looked around. The lobby was curiously dark and empty, Thomas noted; it took him several minutes to realise it was a VR holographic chamber that, for whatever reason, had been deactivated. He’d seen AI-run games and simulations before, but he rather doubted the restricted AIs permitted by the Tokomak could actually handle so many different VR perceptual realities at the same time.
“The main computer network needs to be booted up,” Captain Ryman commented. He walked behind the counter and peered underneath it, then produced a small computer node and placed it on the desk. “Let me see ...”
Thomas gave him an odd look as he poked at the node with a processor he must have taken from the ship. There was a long moment, then the lights came on; Thomas covered his eyes, then opened them carefully as his implants adapted. The lobby was suddenly washed in soothing colours that made him want to relax and let the world go by. It was definitely a program optimised for human visitors.
“We'll need to recover the staff if we want to put the hotel back into shape,” Captain Ryman said, as he flicked through the control systems, “but we can get a meeting room without any problems. It may be a little uncomfortable, but they’ll understand.”
“I thought diplomats spent weeks arguing over the shape of the table,” Thomas said. He hadn't been given any classes on diplomacy at the Academy. “Is that really true?”
“Only if one side is stalling and the other, for whatever reason, is willing to let it,” Captain Ryman said. He led the way through a large door, easily big enough to handle five or six humans walking abreast, then paused. “Have you ever attended a multiracial meeting before?”
“No, sir,” Thomas said.
“Some basic rules, then,” Captain Ryman said. “You’re my aide, so you stand behind me and say nothing, unless I specifically ask for your comments. If anyone other than myself tries to speak to you, say nothing unless I tell you to answer. I assume you speak Gal-Standard One?”
“One and Three,” Thomas said, speaking in Gal-Standard One. “My accent is a little poor, but I speak the language.”
“Poor, yes,” Captain Ryman agreed. “Speak only in Gal-Standard One. If you can't express yourself properly without switching to English, inform me first. Speaking in a non-standard language is considered rude. Don’t even swear in English.”
He sighed. “I’d bet good money that one of the reasons the Galactics are so unchanging is because of Gal-Standard languages,” he added. “English steals words from other languages with impunity. Gal-Standard One is so precise that it admits of no flexibility or imprecision, let alone innovation. The Tokomak knew Big Brother before George Orwell was a gleam in his great-great-grandfather’s eye.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “We studied it at the Academy.”
It was nearly an hour before the first set of alien representatives arrived at the Pen-Gal Hotel, followed by several more. Thomas watched as Captain Ryman greeted them, displayed his new authority to his old contacts and introduced himself to new ones, then escorted the guests down to the meeting room. A couple had brought their own servitors, he noted; the marines had to be told to leave the guests armed, despite their concerns. It had taken two days of arguing, over what remained of the planet’s communications grid, to convince the guests to attend. After the Druavroks had started to slaughter everyone else, Thomas was mildly surprised that so many had shown up at all.
He studied them as Captain Ryman walked to the head of the table. The human delegate was a tall man, his face badly scarred by ... something. Thomas couldn't help feeling a little uneasy at how it was impossible to draw anything from the man’s implants - assuming he had any - or from the surrounding datanet. The man had been introduced as John Septum, but that meant nothing to Thomas. He didn't even have a datanet social page!
He wouldn't, he reminded himself. The Tokomak didn't hold with using the datanet for fun.
The first alien - Captain Ryman called her Sissle - was weird, a strange cross between an orange humanoid and an octopus. Her race had apparently been spacefarers before the Tokomak had contacted them and they’d been swift to spread through the sector, mainly as traders. Beside her, a more humanoid representative sat, his face covered in dark hair that was braided into thorns. His race preferred to farm; the Tokomak had used them to terraform a hundred Mars-like worlds until they could support life, then turned them into the first population. He was introduced as Todd.
Finally, a six-legged spider-like alien inched its way up to the table and, disdaining the seat, stood in its place. Thomas felt a chill run down his spine, even though he’d been exposed to images of hundreds of different races at the Academy. The creature was just too close to a spider for him to be completely comfortable, even though his implants assured him that the aliens were very civilised. Their names were completely unpronounceable, but after a brief discussion Captain Ryman introduced the spider-like alien as Ambassador One of Six. The alien seemed satisfied with that designation.
Unless he doesn’t really understand, Thomas thought. The spider - he mentally dubbed the unpronounceable aliens spiders - spoke Gal-Standard One, but did they really understand? It was hard to imagine what such a creature could have in common with humanity. We could come to an agreement with them and then discover they thought they were agreeing to something else.
“Fellow Sentients, I greet you,” Captain Ryman said. One thing to say for the Tokomak version of Robert’s Rules of Order, at least, was that they didn't allow for small talk. “I have called you here to discuss our mutual enemies.”
“The Druavroks have gone mad,” Sissle exclaimed. “They have attacked dozens of worlds and settlements over the last month. Their fleets are advancing in all directions. Many worlds are under siege.”
And I hope to hell that’s an exaggeration, Thomas thought. We might have bitten off far more than we can chew.
Captain Ryman didn't seem daunted. “When I left, I told you I intended to seek help,” he said, calmly. Gal-Standard One encouraged calmness. “I succeeded - I brought a fleet of warships to lift the siege and stop the Druavroks before it was too late.”
“For which we thank you,” One of Six rattled. It didn't seem to be using a voder to speak, but there was something about its voice that chilled Thomas to the bone. “The Druavroks are not yet defeated.”
“No, they are not,” Captain Ryman said.
“We will pull our people away from their settlements,” John Septum said. “You can take them out from orbit. The problem will be solved.”
“The problem is greater than that,” Captain Ryman said. If the thought of committing genocide bothered him, he kept it to himself. “This is not a small outbreak of violence on a single world, but a threat to the entire sector. The Druavroks will be back. Next time, they may just scorch every last settlement from orbit and then land ground troops to hunt down any survivors.”
There was a long pause. It was broken, finally, by Sissle.
“Are your ships going to remain here to defend us?”
“My commander is unwilling to remain a passive defender,” Captain Ryman said. “She wishes to wage war on the Druavroks.”
“Amstar is not a warlike world,” Sissle objected.
“We have no choice,” John Septum said. “The Druavroks will be back.”
“We have few weapons,” Sissle said.
“My commander is prepared to assist you in unlocking the fabber codes,” Captain Ryman said. “In addition, she is willing to offer you advanced weapons and defence systems that will even the odds against the Druavroks.”
The spider rattled two of its legs together. “And the price?”
“Two things,” Captain Ryman said. “First, you join us in war until the Druavrok threat is removed. Call every ship you can, everyt
hing from full-fledged warships to garbage scows, so we can outfit them with weapons and turn them against the enemy. Second, that you attempt to convince your homeworlds to join us too. The Druavroks threaten us all.”
“My people are reluctant warriors,” Sissle said.
“Your people will end up dead,” John Septum snapped. “I do not speak for all of my people, Captain, but I believe most of us will join the resistance. There are plenty of humans on trading ships within this sector.”
The spider made another rattling noise. “How can we trust you to keep your word?”
“The weapons data will be handed over as soon as you agree to join us,” Captain Ryman said, calmly. “We would ask you to be careful with it, as the Druavroks will want it too, but we will give it to you without restriction. And afterwards ...”
He paused, marshalling his thoughts. “As a very great man from our homeworld once said, Fellow Sentients, we must all hang together or hang separately. The Druavroks threaten us all.”
“That makes no sense,” Sissle protested.
“It’s a play on words, in the language of the time,” Captain Ryman said. “Hang refers to both staying with one’s allies and the standard method of executing people, which was to wrap a rope around their necks and strangle them to death, then leave their bodies hanging from the ropes.”
Thomas had a feeling, as the discussion raged backwards and forwards, that the Galactics didn't really understand. How could they? Benjamin Franklin’s pun made no sense in Gal-Standard One, which used precise terms for working together and had a single technical term for execution. But then, it had a single pronoun for sentients too. There was no attempt to draw a line between male and female, let alone anything else, on the basic level. How could there be when there were so many different races, some of which had only one gender and others which had five or six?
“We will send word to our homeworlds,” Sissle said. “Who is to be in command?”
“My commander is the one who took action against the Druavroks,” Captain Ryman said, carefully. “We believe she should have tactical command, but there will be a council of war to decide matters of grand strategy.”
The spider clapped four of its legs together. “And why,” it demanded, “should we place overall command in your hands?”
“First, we beat the Tokomak,” Captain Ryman said. “And we have no long-term interest in this sector. Our sole concern is eliminating the threat posed by the Druavroks.”
But there are humans in this sector, Thomas thought. Don’t we have an interest in them?
He pushed the thought to one side as the discussion finally came to an end. Captain Ryman remained seated as the representatives rose, then walked out of the door. Thomas watched them go, wondering if they were truly convinced. The agreement to join the growing resistance seemed awfully fragile to him.
“I trust you were keeping a recording,” Captain Ryman said. “Your commander will want to see it.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. The XO had told him, in no uncertain terms, to record everything. “A full sensory ...”
He paused. “Sir?”
“Spit it out,” Captain Ryman said.
Thomas looked at him. “Can you trust them?”
“A word of advice for the future,” Captain Ryman said, standing up. “The vast majority of sentients - human or alien - are not selfish, but they are self-interested. Appeal to their self-interest and you’ll catch their attention. You want them to ask the question ‘what’s in it for me?’ and come up with a satisfactory answer.”
He smiled. “In this case, there are three things in it for them. First, they get protection from the Druavroks. Second, they join an alliance of races that will ensure they are not standing, facing the Druavroks, on their own. Third, and perhaps most importantly, they won't be excluded from that alliance.”
“Because the Druavroks would target anyone who was excluded,” Thomas said.
“That’s part of it,” Captain Ryman agreed. “Like I said, hang together or hang separately.”
He smirked at the pun, then leaned forward. “But it’s more than that,” he added. “The races that work together, as part of the alliance, will have access to human-level technology, which will make them stronger, individually and collectively, than anyone else in the sector. We’re the race that stopped the Tokomak dead in their tracks! If we build the alliance up, if we treat the members as equals, we’ll gain a lot of respect. But everyone who doesn't join now, when the price for joining is relatively low, will find it harder to join later.”
Thomas frowned. “Because ... because they didn't do any of the heavy lifting?”
“Precisely,” Captain Ryman agreed. “The first set of members will demand a high price from anyone who wants to join after the war. We won’t need to lift a finger to get more races and worlds trying to join up before the fighting truly starts, not after we showed the sector that the Druavroks could be beaten. That’s what they needed to see.
“Todd’s race will join us - he would have objected if he’d disagreed with anything I’d said. That will probably bring Sissle in as well, as she and Todd are old rivals, while John ... well, he’s human and we’re human and he’s not stupid enough to believe the Druavroks will leave Amstar alone just because they got their asses kicked. And they’re not the only ones who are going to be sending messages to their homeworlds, begging for them to join.”
He smiled. “Take a break, Ensign,” he added. “The next set of meetings will begin three hours from now.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. He wasn't sure where he could have a quick nap - the marines had probably set up cots somewhere on the spaceport - but he’d find somewhere. “And thank you, sir.”
“Make sure you stream your full recording to the ship beforehand,” Captain Ryman warned, as he walked towards the door. “Your commanding officer will want to see it.”
Chapter Eleven
There was a riot at a Solar Union immigrant processing centre in England after forces loyal to the new government threatened to push through the fences and arrest the prospective immigrants, who are fleeing the government’s tightening grip on their country. Solar Marines have been deployed and a final warning has been issued to the government.
-Solar News Network, Year 54
“I wasn't expecting it to come together so quickly,” Max Kratzok commented, as they stood together in the observation blister. “It’s really quite something.”
“It’s been two weeks,” Hoshiko said. “I’m surprised more ships haven't shown up.”
She smiled as she saw the sidelong glance the reporter threw her. There were over two thousand ships currently orbiting Amstar, being outfitted with weapons, sensors and human-grade defence systems. Only two hundred were actual warships, admittedly, but it was still an immensely formidable force. The only downside was patching up disputes between the various alien races involved in the coalition and trying to arrange matters so that races that disliked one another weren't forced to work too closely together. Her crew was being run ragged just trying to keep up with everything.
“The fleet has its limitations,” she said. “A single warship could take out the freighters without breaking a sweat, no matter how many weapons and defence systems we cram into their hulls. Tokomak freighters aren't really designed for speedy conversion into warships, unlike our ships. But in sheer numbers we should be able to give any rational foe pause.”
“But our enemies aren’t rational,” Kratzok commented. “They threw mass wave attacks at the marines rather than standing off or trying to surrender. There’s still fighting going on down on the ground.”
“That’s the problem,” Hoshiko conceded. “You have to hit them hard enough to make them pay attention.”
She’d done more than just summon as many starships and spacers to her banner in the last two weeks. She’d had her intelligence staff collect every last scrap of information they could, putting together a map of the sector that was more t
han just a list of stellar locations and a handful of planetary names. They now knew more about the Druavroks than she’d ever wanted to know, including the vital piece of information about how the Tokomak had made them behave in the first place. Apparently, they’d hammered the Druavroks so hard that the survivors had practically worshipped the Tokomak. They hadn't rebelled in the years since, not once. Somehow, Hoshiko couldn't imagine humanity being so submissive if the Solar Union had lost the war.
“Which leads to a simple question,” Kratzok said. “Can we hit them hard enough to make them pay attention?”
“I think we’re going to find out,” Hoshiko said. “We should be getting more starships soon, I hope. But they’re unlikely to leave us in peace for long. Word is already spreading through the sector.”
She closed her eyes, recalling the star chart. Assuming the Druavroks had managed to get a message out, their forward bases would be hearing about the fall of Amstar about now. Even if they hadn't, the Druavroks had plenty of contacts across the sector. Hoshiko’s most optimistic calculations suggested the Druavroks would discover what had happened in two more weeks, although she wasn't banking on it. She’d been trained to hope for the best, but assume the worst until she knew it hadn't come to pass.
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