Chang grunted. Humanity was the likelier candidate for extermination. "But if they had not attacked us," he said, "we would have accepted them peacefully. And even after they'd attacked us, if they hadn't been so focused on extermination, we could have negotiated."
Peixoto examined that. They'd become so deeply involved in the war effort, they'd never followed through on the question of negotiations. "Negotiations?" he said.
"It was you who first suggested them," Chang reminded him.
"What terms would you offer, now they've done so much harm?"
"They must remove their colonies from the worlds they've captured, and leave this sector."
Peixoto nodded thoughtfully. "That willingness, that preference, is what makes us civilized. But given the experience of their forefathers, what would it take to get their agreement?"
"We will need to dominate their fleet first, and rout them from enough of their colonies that they know they cannot hold the rest. Then perhaps they'll agree to leave."
Peixoto sighed. Victory felt unreal to him, and so did Wyzhnyny agreement. "Let us hope we can do it," he said quietly.
"We will," said Chang Lung-Chi. "We will." But saying it produced second thoughts. Could they trust such a life-form anywhere in this part of the galaxy? Even with a peace treaty? And they "knew" only one Wyzhnyny. How representative was he?
Quanshuk watched the monitor screen as Qonits left the captives' room. The prisoners had been a major disappointment to the grand admiral, or their information had been. Even now, with shipsmind's knowledge of the human language growing rapidly, and Qonits' expanding proficiency in its use.
It would mean a lot simply to learn how large their empire was. A hyperspace year in diameter, one of the humans had said, but the body-field monitor insisted he'd lied. Obviously they wanted their empire to seem larger and more formidable than it really was.
In a way, the lie had been reassuring. It established that the monitor worked. And why make small lies? To that question anyway. So say they'd doubled the actual size, and the true diameter was half a hyperspace year. Considering how far his armada had already penetrated, that was conceivable, though barely.
It never occurred to Quanshuk, nor to Qonits, that the human, to make himself more believable, might have deliberately described the commonwealth as half its actual diameter, not twice. And that the volume of human space was roughly sixty-four times what he himself was assuming.
The watch officer's voice broke Quanshuk's preoccupation. "Lord Admiral, the F-space potentiality indicates another stellar gravity field coming into range."
Quanshuk's gaze moved to the red view screen. Perhaps two hours ahead and to starboard, a white gravitic isoline formed hesitantly, a segment at a time. So many stars, and so few suitable planets; detouring and emerging to examine them slowed his armada greatly. Fortunately, some could be dismissed without doing either. Like this one, which promised to be a white dwarf.
What he really wanted was to reach a system with a human defensive fleet, something he could deal with. Not an empire too vast for his capacity to subdue and occupy.
Quanshuk, he chided himself, you worry needlessly. No empire can be that large.
Annika now had easily recognized cycles of sleep and waking. But her waking state was definitely not normal; mostly she lay on one side or the other in a fetal curl, her eyes open. From time to time she'd get up on her own to use the latrine, though it was Yukiko, or occasionally David, who cleaned her up. Or she'd sit up and repeat the single word "eat," until she was fed. Fortunately for her health, she'd stand up when Yukiko asked, and allow herself to be walked around their fifteen-by-twenty-foot chamber. Recently she'd even done simple exercises when led. But she was nothing like the happy child she'd been aboard the Cousteau.
Yukiko had been tempted to impose herself on Annika's odd state, and see if she could break her free of it, but the temptation was easily resisted. As David had said: what good would it do? The girl seemed content as she was.
He broke his wife's thought now with a whisper, breathy and without sibilance. They weren't sure whether the monitor picked up such whispers or not, but they needed some means of confidentiality. "What did you say?" she whispered back.
He repeated even more softly than before. "It was spooky, the way Qonits acted when he talked about the ship being jumped between galaxies. Do you think it actually happened?"
"I have no doubt at all." Yukiko barely breathed it.
Snuggled beside her, Annika neither doubted nor believed. She simply, unknowingly, passed it on to Kunming.
Chapter 29
Night Surprise
The night was moonless, the galaxy a banner of frost half seen through bare branches and twigs. Boots crunched recently-fallen leaves, loudly enough, it seemed to Esau, to be heard a hundred feet away. Until it rained again, there was no chance at all of slipping quietly through the woods.
His helmet gave him a choice of two night-vision enhancements. One provided positive night vision, which worked even in heavy forest and under thick clouds, but might be detected by an enemy. The other amplified natural starlight, moonlight if any, and whatever other light there might be. The army preferred the latter, when there was moonlight or enough starlight.
Isaiah Vernon had wondered aloud whether the Wyzhnyny might have a way of detecting starlight vision, too. And of course no one knew, or would know till they fought.
At any rate Esau could see in the dark, could see Jonas Timmins ahead of him, it being Jonas's time to lead the squad. Off to the left, twenty yards or so, was a meadow, with thin wispy fog on it. Odds are, Esau thought, it'll thicken through the night.
Ahead of Timmins was the rest of the platoon, and ahead of it, Ensign Berg, Sergeant Hawkins, and the point man.
Esau was a little irked that Timmins was leading 4th Squad tonight. He considered himself the rightful squad leader. But the ensign was giving others the experience, which Esau realized made sense. And Timmins was probably the next best leader after himself. Timmins and Jael. His wife had surprised him with her willingness and ability to make decisions and give orders. And to his further surprise, he liked her even better that way.
Somewhere up ahead, the ensign or Sergeant Hawkins raised an arm, and the file of trainees stopped silently. This was a simplified problem, Esau realized, one suited to their training level. Somewhere on the other side of the meadow, the platoon's scouts had spotted the enemy outpost. The platoon was to capture it. The problem had no broader context, strategic or tactical.
An order spoke in their ears, and the file became a rank, slinking toward the meadow's edge. Halfway there they dropped to their bellies and stopped. To lie waiting, while Timmins and the other squad leaders moved forward in a low crawl, to examine the ground with Hawkins and the ensign.
After a couple of minutes, Timmins spoke to his squad on their own frequency, ordering them to the forest edge. When they'd reached it, he spoke again. "4th Squad, we'll start out crawling; the vegetation'll cover us. And don't bunch up. See that pointy-topped fir sticking up above the hardwoods?" On Luneburger's, the Jerries called any evergreen a "fir." "I'll guide on that. If anything happens to me"-they were being as realistic as they knew how-"Esau takes command. When we come under fire, proceed by teams. The teams that are covering, really pour it on."
They'll have starlight vision, too, Esau thought. They'll spot us by the way the weeds move when we crawl through them.
Timmins continued. "That worm fence down the middle is the sticky part. If anyone's over there, that's where they'll spot us. If we haven't come under fire before we cross it, climb over. Anyone not over before they start shooting at us, pull the fence apart and advance by crawling. Everyone that's across, lay down covering fire."