None of which mattered to Boone, who knew his duty, and was determined to save the smuggler if such a thing was possible. He opened a corn link. “Captain Williams? This is Captain Boone. What kind of emergency gear have you got on board? A lifeboat? Escape pod?”
Willy gritted his teeth as the drive cut in and out. The ship was doomed and so it seemed was he. “My lifeboat needs some repairs ... and the pod was damaged during the fight.”
Boone bit his lip. The very idea of lifting with a lifeboat in need of repairs went against every bone in his naval body. Such things were common among civilians, however—just one of the reasons why they required supervision. “Yes, well that’s a bit unfortunate. How about space armor? You have some I trust?”
Willy looked up at the camera. “Of course I do! What do you take me for? An idiot?”
Boone decided it would be best to let the question pass unanswered. “Excellent. That being the case you’ll be able to abandon ship. I suggest you step out of the lock in two hours and twenty-seven minutes. One of our search and rescue sleds will pick you up.”
“What about the Molly?
The naval officer glanced off screen then back. “Our calculations suggest that your ship will impact the surface of Arballa at approximately three thousand miles per hour. The Araballazanies have given their permission for you to land or, more accurately, to crash. I doubt your ship will be worth much after that.”
Willy squinted into the camera. His mother plus all three of his former wives knew the expression well.
“No.”
Boone raised an eyebrow. “ Wo?’ What does that mean?”
“It means I ain’t gonna do it,” Willy replied stolidly.
“The Molly’s been hurt worse than this ... I can repair her.
All you gotta do is stop her.”
The bridge crew, all of whom were surreptitiously monitoring the conversation, snickered. “And how,”
Boone said patiently, “would we do that?”
“Simple,” Williams replied. “You got tractor beams don’tcha? Well, use ‘em.”
The naval officer frowned. “Yes, we do. But snatching a fast-moving object like your ship takes a great deal of effort and skill. You claim your ship can be repaired. I doubt it. Why should I go to the effort?”
Willy leaned forward until his heavily veined nose looked like an overripe tomato. “Because if you don’t help me, I’ll end up spread across twenty square miles of Arballa’s surface, and you’ll have to explain why.”
Boone felt a rising sense of anger but knew the civilian was correct. He would have to launch an investigation, convene a board of inquiry, and sit through days of boring testimony. “I’ll think about it.”
Willy grinned. “You do that. Captain. I’ll be waiting.”
Ishimoto Six had to bully traffic control before getting permission to land in the Friendship’s cavernous launch bay—and was surprised to see how quiet the facility was.
It wasn’t until Maylo and he had cleared the lock and entered the ship that they heard about the emergency. Given a choice between sitting in their staterooms or joining the senate, they chose the latter. Sergi ChienChu and Hiween DomaSa waved them over. Some whispered conversation was sufficient to bring the newcomers up to speed. Ishimoto Six was amazed at how audacious the plan was, saw how it could serve the Hegemony’s interests, and wondered if the Alpha Clones would support him. The debate was well advanced. Senator Hygo Pulu Darwa, who represented the Dwellers, had come forward to oppose the proposal. The senate listened as he spoke.
“So,” Darwa concluded, “while I can see the benefit to be realized from an alliance with the Hudathans, the dangers are much too great. What happened to the legion could happen again. While it’s true that the lack of a deepspace navy might serve to brake their expansionist tendencies, a revolt by one or more of the Hudathan military units could wreak havoc on our defensive efforts, and threaten the Confederacy as a whole. I’m sorry—but that’s how I see it. Thank you.”
Nankool, who had expected the Dwellers to support rather than oppose his initiative, struggled to conceal his disappointment. A rare moment of somewhat awkward silence fell over the chamber. Those who sought to block the proposal relished their moment of victory—while those who favored it stared defeat in the face. ChienChu wished he had the right to speak—and DomaSa struggled to hide his rage. Ishimoto Six felt himself stand was surprised to find that he had. “The Clone Hegemony seeks to be recognized.”
Senator Omo looked for Ishimoto Seven and wondered where he was. Not that it made much difference. Ishimoto Six had every right to speak. The Ramanthian ran his tool legs back along the sides of his beak. “The chair recognizes Senator Ishimoto Six.”
Six saw his image appear at the front of the chamber. Most of his peers settled for that—but a few turned to look. He established eye contact with those that did. “I suggest that in addition to the proposed restrictions on the Hudathan navy, that their ground forces be integrated into the Legion, so that there will be little to no possibility that an entire unit could or would revolt. Thank you.”
Slowly, inexorably, every ocular organ in the room turned, swiveled, and in one case slithered toward Ambassador Hiween DomaSa. Every single being in the room knew how xenophobic the Hudathans were. Would the race submit? Agree to take orders from those they had long sought to annihilate?
DomaSa felt the scrutiny and knew what they were thinking. In spite of the fact that the thought was new to them, he had already considered the possibility and hoped it would never come up. But now it had, which forced him to confront a terrible choice: Accept the clone proposal, thereby ceding control of the Hudathan military to the Confederacy, or—and this was equally unthinkable—open his people to an attack by the Sheen. He ignored Omo and spoke without benefit of a mike. The words were bitter—like poison. “My people stand ready to accept the clone proposal if we receive a full membership in the Confederacy, if all trade restrictions are lifted, and if the Hegemony agrees to a joint command structure.”
There was a hiss of in drawn breath as everyone turned to stare at Ishimoto Six. Here was a brilliant counterstroke. A piece of political legerdemain that would be discussed for months if not years to come. Though a member of the Confederacy, the Hegemony had always been very independent. A unified command structure would limit that... How would the clone respond?
Ishimoto Six wondered the same thing. How would his government want him to respond? But more importantly how should he respond? Because this was one of those moments, the kind he had once dreamed of, when a single person could make a difference. If he had the courage. Whatever he said, whatever he did, would be hard if not impossible for the Hegemony to retract. The politician looked at Maylo, saw the question in her eyes, and got to his feet. Like DomaSa, he decided to ignore Senator Omo. The almost perfect silence was permission to speak. “The Sheen are on the way ... It will take every bit of our strength to stop them. The Hegemony will place its forces under a unified command for the duration of the crises. What happens after that will be subject to negotiation.”
Stroke and counterstroke! Every single one of them understood the qualification. It gave Six a way out, an escape hatch, should his superiors take issue with the decision. Not immediately—but down the line. It was a smart, gutsy move.
President Nankool released his harness, stood, and started to applaud. The rest of the senate did likewise, or, in the case of those who lacked hands, made an assortment of celebratory noises. ChienChu felt a sudden surge of hope. He looked from DomaSa to Ishimoto Six. Both were close enough to hear. “Thank you—thank you both. We have a chance now, a slim one, but a chance nonetheless.”