“Why don’t you ask,” Mumlo said. “Midge, open a channel to the seventy-five ships on our side of this…whatever it is…”
“It’s a picket line,” Drexler said. “Two opposing forces about to fight. We can’t have that.” Drexler took a deep breath before he opened a channel again and addressed the Armada. “This is Captain Fleetfoot. I take it that those on this side of the line consider themselves members of the Resistance Armada. I have one question for you all: do you still grant me the privilege of command?”
Worry filled a long pause. Fourseven was first to answer. “I do not understand the question. My Hive pledges itself to you, Deliverer, just as you demonstrate your service to us.”
Captain Aahloh was next to speak, “Nothing has changed for me and my new crew, Captain, although I do request my First Officer return as soon as possible.” Mumlo’s low grumble of a laugh added to the vibrating deck.
“I look forward to returning soon, Captain Aaaholoh,” Mumlo responded.
“To all members of the Resistance Armada,” Drexler said. “I will negotiate peace with Admiral Luthra that will benefit everyone. Close channel.”
Drexler paced the bridge. He stopped before Mumlo and his sister. “What do you advise, First Officer Fleetfoot,” Drexler asked.
“I suggest a quick negotiation, so we can blink to the Central Worlds and free the Trades. Don’t give that bastard too much,” Margaret said.
“Mumlo?” Drexler said, looking up at the Forest Child. A pang gripped Drexler’s chest. Mumlo showed his age. He wondered if the old Forest Child should even be on the ship.
“He is beaten. There is no need to have him as an enemy,” Mumlo replied.
Drexler turned to Abhay, who studied his feet and growled. He took a moment, then met Drexler’s eyes. “They are right. Set favorable terms. Don’t humiliate him. Give him reason to work with us later.”
“This all goes against my prevailing instinct,” Drexler said with his classic, lopsided smirk, “but I accept your advice. Open channel to Admiral Luthra!”
“I was beginning to take your silence as a challenge, Fleetfoot,” Luthra began.
“Admiral,” Drexler began. “I’d prefer you address me as ‘Captain.’ I believe I have earned that right.”
“Very well, Captain,” Luthra said with a verbal sneer.
“Thank you, Admiral. Here are my terms,” Drexler said. “I am prepared to turn over to you an extensive portfolio of trade contracts, both current and ongoing. These contracts represent about eighty percent of the commerce among and between the Resistance Armada, as well as a significant portion of trade between Medina 3 and the BJP worlds. I worked hard for this, but I offer it to you in good faith.
“In exchange, I want you to defer all claims to my arrest. You will let me and this Armada go. You will render aid and support to this Armada. You will not interfere. You have my word that I will return to your authority when my task is complete. I will face any charges the Trade Union may still levy against me.”
Margaret gasped. Abhay’s eyes blazed, and Darzi wrung her hands. The ship finally ceased its rumbling. Drexler spared a look at the display scroll showing the maintenance probe’s view.
Drexler hardly recognized his ship. A curving delta wing grew from the dorsal beam and curled around the cargo modules, nearly concealing them. A series of rounded rectangular towers extended at regular angles from the ship’s back, where weapon booms and other devices extended forward. The blunt arrow shape of the bridge section had a greater angle and rested closer to the bulk of the hull. He was lost in the view when Admiral Luthra finally replied.
“I find this acceptable,” Admiral Luthra replied.
Drexler visibly relaxed and said, “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Admiral. I expect your fleet to depart in the next several hours. The Armada will return to its previous stance. I would ask that you give us some room immediately.” The implied threat was not lost on Luthra, as evidenced by the immediate motion of his fleet away from the Armada. “Close channel,” Drexler said.
The Captain sat heavily on the nearest flight chair. With the negotiation over, the full realization of his dealing pressed him down. He was broke once again. He wondered what had possessed him to give everything away. He remembered another contract that he made to the Insectoids and the agreement he had with the Armada. Though these pacts were less formal, they represented a bond. Some part of him knew that those bonds had greater value than the pecuniary interests he courted.
“What the hell did I just do?” Drexler asked no one in particular and everyone at once.
“From what I can tell,” Margaret said, sidling up to the flight chair. “You did the right thing. We can worry about everything else once we get done with this job.”
“Then you explain it to the Armada,” Drexler said. “That can be your first job as First Officer.”
Drexler sat for a moment and let the bridge chatter wash over him. Something occurred to him. “Reggie,” Drexler said aloud. “Why did you call us all here to the bridge? Did you want to tell us something?”
“No,” Reggie replied for everyone to hear. “I just wanted my family here for my birthday.”
Table of Contents
Thank You
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Rogue Messiah: Fleetfoot Interstellar Series, Book 2 Page 36
