James P Hogan. Giant’s Star. Giant Series #3

Broghuilio turned away in exasperation and began pacing furiously back and forth across the floor. He halted suddenly in front of the commanding general of the local defense system. “They’ve got their attack planned all the way down to who will dig the latrines after they’ve wiped out the last imbecile in your army. You have a direct line into their communications network, and you can decode their signals. You know their intentions. Where is your defense plan?”

“What? I. . .” the general faltered helplessly. “How do you-”

“YOUR PLAN OF DEFENSE. WHERE IS IT?”

“But. . . we have no weapons.”

“You have no reserves? What kind of a general are you?”

“A few robot destroyers only, all controlled by JEVEX. Can they be relied upon? The reserves were sent to Thurien.” That had been at Broghuilio’s insistence, but nobody chose to remind him of the fact.

A deathly silence enveloped the Jevlenese War Room. At last Wylott said firmly, “A truce. There is no alternative. We must sue for a truce.”

“What?” Broghuillo looked toward him. “The Protectorate has

barely been declared, and already you are saying we should crawl to primitives? What kind of talk is this?”

“For time,” Wylott urged. “Until Uttan is in full production and the stockpiles are built up. Give the army time to be brought up to strength and trained. Earth has been geared to war for centuries. We have not, and there is the difference. The break from Thurien was forced too soon.”

“It looks as if it may be the only chance we have, Excellency,” Estordu said.

“JEVEX has reopened a channel,” VISAR announced. “Broghullio wishes a private audience with Calazar.” Calazar had been expecting the call and was sitting alone on one side of the room in the Government Center waiting for it, while Caidwell, Danchekker, Heller, and the Thuriens watched from the far side.

A head-and-shoulders image of Broghuilio appeared in a frame before Calazar. Broghuilio looked surprised and uncertain. “Why are we talking like this? I asked to come to Thurien.”

“I do not feel that the intimacy of proximity would be appropriate,” Calazar replied. “What did you wish to discuss?”

Broghuilio swallowed and forced his words with a visible effort. “I have had an opportunity to consider the recent. . . developments. On reflection, it seems that perhaps we were disoriented by the arrogance of the Terrans. Our reactions were, perhaps, a little

hasty. I would like to propose a debate to reconsider the relationship between our races.”

“That is no longer an affair that concerns me,” Calazar told him. “I have agreed with the Terrans to leave the matter to be settled between yourselves. They have given you their terms. Do you accept them?”

“Their terms are outrageous,” Broghuilio protested. “We have to negotiate.”

“Negotiate with the Terrans.”

Alarm showed on Broghuilio’s face. “But they are barbarians savages. Have you forgotten what leaving them to settle

things their way will mean?”

“I choose not to. Have you forgotten the Shapieron?”

Broghuilio paled. “That was an inexcusable error. Those responsible will be punished. But this. . . this is different. You are

Ganymeans. We stood beside you for millennia. You can’t stand aside and abandon us now.”

“You deceived us for millennia,” Calazar replied coldly. “We wanted to keep Lunarian violence from spreading into the Galaxy, but it is loose in the Galaxy already. Our attempts to change you have failed. If the only solution left lies with the Terrans, then so be it. The Ganymeans can do no more.”

“We must discuss this, Calazar. You can’t allow this.”

“Will you accept the Terran terms?”

“They cannot be serious. There must be room for negotiation.”

“Then negotiate with the Terrans. I have nothing more to say. Excuse me now, please.” The image of Broghuilio vanished.

Calazar turned to confront the approving faces across the room. “How did I do?” he asked.

“Terrific,” Karen Heller told him. “You should apply for a seat in the UN.”

“How does it feel to be hard-nosed, Terran-style,” Showm asked curiously.

Calazar stood up, drew himself up to his full height, and filled his lungs with air while he considered the question. “Do you know, I find it rather. . . invigorating,” he confessed.

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