“So?” asked Misra Affrendi, a trusted family retainer who had recently celebrated his 11 Oth year of life, “what do we do?”
Misra didn’t sound desperate, but there was an edge to his voice.
“Is there a channel from our satellite open to the horned ones’ ship?”
“Of course, and everyone with any linguistic ability is trying to analyze their language.”
Hafiz grimaced. He did have a cube of Acorna opening the Maganos Mining, but he didn’t have Rafik, who might or might not remember the few words Acorna had initially used before she had sopped up Basic Universal Interlingua like a sponge. And, as far as Hafiz knew, the escape pod was at Maganos Moon Base, too, and he’d no cube of THAT to display.
Quiabriel had wondered if the vids were some form of threat, but to Hafiz it was obvious that the horned folk felt some warning was required to another sapient race standing in the path of such a viciously predatory race as those videoed. Hafiz shuddered at the thought of Acorna’s lovely slender body encased in any of the instruments of torture displayed. And then at the thought of his own in a similar condition.
“What else is being done?” Hafiz huffed. “As the Third Prophet said, ‘Before thine own life and thine own honor, redeem and protect the house from whence thou earnest.’ First we must protect House Harakamian-then we can analyze this message at length and attempt to establish communication.”
“That has already been taken care of. We’ve activated the Shield, of course,” Misra said, his elderly voice croaking with impatience.
“Have we warned all our shipping and affiliates?”
“Those in immediate peril, yes.”
“But once the Shield goes up, no one can get in or out.”