Brooks paced his study with long strides. They took him to the side of the room in only three steps, whereupon he had to wheel and start again.

His system told him that Urle, Decinus, and N’Keeea were on their way up to his office, mere moments off.

And it was an effort to hide his anger.

The door chimed.

“Enter,” he said sharply.

The three came in; first Urle, showing no sign of being shaken up after nearly getting missiled, then Decinus – and N’Keeea last, but Brooks held up a hand.

“Ambassador N’Keeea,” he said gravely. “I’ll have to ask you to wait outside briefly.”

The Hev seemed more responsive than Urle had initially described him, but said nothing, merely nodding.

Brooks was not concerned with him running or causing trouble – his every move was being monitored. But he didn’t want the Hev to hear what he was about to ask.

“How is the Bright Flower?” he asked Urle.

“Her heat radiators deteriorated a little during the jump back,” Urle replied. “Which was not unexpected. Other than that she’s holding together fine. It will take her a little longer than normal to charge up for a jump, but that can’t be helped.”

“No crew dead or injured?”

“Some bumps and bruises. Captain Daa sprained two limbs holding N’Keeea in his seat, but they’ll be healed within a few hours. She’s not complaining.”

Brooks accepted it with a thoughtful nod, looking down and away.

“Excuse me,” Decinus said. “But I feel the largest matter here is the status of our negotiations. With an attack by the side we came to help, it seems clear to me that our presence is no longer wanted. We have little reason to stay in-“

“Wrong,” Brooks said. “We did not receive any official word to such an effect from N’Keeea, their ambassador.”

“But they tried to kill him as well as us!” Decinus protested.

“An unfortunate accident,” Brooks said, clearly distasteful of the idea of playing it down.

“Captain, I do not think you are being rational here,” Decinus said, his own words turning sharp.

“I am not,” he agreed. “However, I am right. Can you truly walk away and leave the Tul to die because of this? No one was killed, and the damage was minor. In a few hours we’ll have the Bright Flower repaired to the point where it will be like it never happened. It is a ghost in the data. But the Hev on Poqut’k are not ghosts – not yet.”

His eyes met Decinus’s. “Do you still disagree?”

Decinus sighed. “Now I see the truth of the rumors about you, Captain. No, I will not abandon those lives if I can help them.”

Brooks looked to Urle. “What did the Bright Flower find?”

“Find?” Decinus asked, looking confused.

Urle looked to the ambassador. “The Bright Flower has a great suite of extremely good sensors. We were gathering information during our entire time there.”

He looked back to Brooks, opening his hands. “What Hev are alive down there are well-hidden in deep bunkers. Poqut’k is smaller than Earth, and older, too, so they’ve been able to dig very deep – we’re talking kilometers under the surface. Short of a planet cracker, they’re going to be fairly safe. It looks like the Maig have launched a lot of nukes, even a lot of asteroids, but none yet have been large enough to kill them all.”

“Yet,” Brooks replied. “How many do you think are left?”

“That’s hard to tell, but our best estimate is around ten billion. How they’re faring is an even bigger question, but they’re still producing weapons – the parts of the missiles we recovered from the Bright Flower’s hull seem to have been manufactured in the last few months.”

“And they’re Hev design, not sold to them by the Fesha?”

“They don’t have any hallmarks of Fesha engineering. I already ran tests on it, and the ore likely originated from Poqut’k. They sent a fair few after us, too, so that suggests they’re not running low. This war could drag on for a hell of a lot longer, I think.”

Brooks began pacing again. “I think it’s already gone longer than the Maig would have liked. We’ve seen signs that they’re adding engines to a rock that’s fifteen kilometers wide. It may already be in transit – and then it’s a matter of months before it hits.”

“Bigger than the one that caused the K-T Extinction,” Urle noted. “The seismic waves alone will collapse all their underground bunkers even if it doesn’t hit them.”

“God,” Decinus said. “Do you truly think the Maig would do that? Will the Tul not surrender?”

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“Let us ask our ambassador,” Brooks said. His voice rose. “Ambassador N’Keeea, please enter.”

The door opened, and N’Keeea came in. His head was not held high, but level, a sign that while he was not evidently feeling defiant, he was not going to simply submit, either.

“Why did your people shoot at the Bright Flower when they knew you were aboard?” Brooks asked.

“They view that I have failed them,” the Hev replied simply. “And I have. We have no hope left.”

“Will they truly not accept the idea of withdrawal if we can arrange it?” Decinus asked.

N’Keeea hesitated. “I . . . cannot say with honesty that none would wish to leave. But in practicality – no. None will.”

“Why?” Urle asked. “Surely it is better for some to survive than all to die!”

“We are not fanatics,” N’Keeea replied sharply, then sighed. “But during times of war, our military clans hold more sway than most. How can they not, when Hev wars are to the bitter end? All must be for victory. Dissent is not tolerated.”

The room fell quiet for a moment, then Brooks asked; “So are they executing those who wish to flee?”

“Most likely,” N’Keeea said. “The military clans are born and raised on the idea that nothing is too much to sacrifice for victory. And if victory is not possible, deny the enemy everything. Even our lives.”

His eyes whipped over them all. “Before you judge – for I know your kind view the universe differently – to be captured by your enemy is not simply a dishonor. There are no rules in a war such as this to protect those who are captured or surrender. The Maig will have no mercy.”

Urle looked to Brooks.

Brooks was only looking at N’Keeea, though. “As far as we are concerned, N’Keeea, you are still the Hev Ambassador. Do you wish for us to leave? Or continue to try?”

Confusion spread across N’Keeea’s face, followed swiftly by elation.

“I still request your aid on behalf of my people,” he said.

Brooks nodded. “Well, then. There we have it; a formal request. We’re going to have to have a talk, though, Ambassador. It’s going to be a very difficult talk that neither of us are going to enjoy.”

N’Keeea was silent a long moment. Then; “You mean about what my people are willing to give up to survive.”

The words sounded almost painful for him to say.

“Yes,” Brooks agreed. “This will cost you more than anyone. We can attempt a deal, without your government’s approval. It may be for nothing, but . . .”

“If we have something to offer, some may take it,” N’Keeea finished. “Enough that even our military caste can’t stop them.”

“That’s right. And once we have that hammered out, then I think that it is time we talk to Overlord Ks’Kull.”

----------------------------------------

Brooks was, at this moment, messaging Ks’Kull. But even if the Overlord jumped at the chance to meet with them, it would still take a few hours for such a meeting to take place.

“In the meantime, Executive Commander – get some rest,” Brooks had told him.

Urle wasn’t going to argue, but he was not ready or desiring of sleep. Without the girls here, he had no reason to even keep to normal human activities like rest. His body no longer strictly required it.

Even if interfacing with a ship’s computer as he had on the Bright Flower was draining, even for such a short time. But he’d done it for far longer at times, in worse situations.

He did have work waiting, though. Preparations to make, things to triple and quadruple check. Every department had been on high alert, and he wanted to make sure that they were not losing their edge.

He was so distracted with such thoughts that he almost did not notice Kell’s presence. Almost.

“Ambassador,” he said, jerking upright. For a moment he felt irrationally annoyed that so many people around him had the same title, but that was only his weariness lashing out, and he pushed the feeling aside. “What are you doing here?”

Kell was clearly making no effort to hide, nor sneak up on him; he was simply standing next to Urle’s office door.

Kell’s face was impassive, as it nearly always was, but his eyes swept over Urle probingly. “I wished to ascertain for myself your condition,” he said flatly.

It took Urle a second to realize what he meant. “You mean you wanted to know that I was all right?”

“Yes,” Kell replied.

“I am,” Urle said. “I’m just distracted is all.”

Urle waited a moment, not sure what else to say. His mind just didn’t come up with anything. Kell made it no easier by saying nothing else.

Urle opened his door, stepping into his office. Kell turned and began to walk away.

And then Urle remembered.

“Kell!”

The being turned, looking at him, then came back as Urle beckoned him.

“I have something for you, Ambassador. It’s on my desk.”

He went into the room, and Kell didn’t seem to want to follow him until Urle said so. “Please, come in.”

His office was a very busy space, he knew. But it was not a slovenly one. Sure, he had many piles, but they were organized piles. This one was tech augments, all stacked neatly in storage boxes. These were hard print-outs of manuals for parts of the ship – if the computers went out they’d be handy to have – and over there was his work station proper. It had a screen that he didn’t even use for himself, only for when others were in. When alone he’d just hook in himself.

And, of course, all over was art by his girls.

Taking the folded sheet that Persis had given him days earlier, he turned back to Kell. He hadn’t meant to wait this long, but . . .

Unfolding the drawing, the crease marks disappeared, and he offered it.

“My daughter Persis drew this and wanted me to give it to you as a gift.”

Kell studied the drawing with what seemed to be severe confusion for a long moment before looking back up at Urle.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a drawing of a Puffer Slug. I, ah, hope that’s not insulting,” he added, remembering how he seemed to keep upsetting N’Keeea.

“I see,” Kell replied. He didn’t reach up to take it, though.

“She meant for you to take it. You don’t have to, Ambassador, but I would request that you do. It is something that would mean a lot to her.”

Kell’s brow furrowed quizzically. “What is the significance of it?”

“Well . . . her class were making things for members of the crew who didn’t have family aboard, and she thought of you. So it represents her well-wishes for you while we are out here.”

“Are all of these totems the same?” Kell asked, looking past him, to the many pieces of art around his desk. They were in crayon or paint, print-outs or repaintable sheets. But they were all made by the two girls for him. They often depicted him, or they and he, or sometimes the Craton itself. All of them childish, but things he cherished and was proud of.

“I suppose so,” he replied.

Kell studied it again. “I do not see how it represents that.”

Urle wasn’t sure he could either, but wasn’t sure what else to add.

“She did ask if I resembled this animal,” Kell noted. “It is not that dissimilar in general shape.”

Still holding it, Urle wished that Kell would make up his mind about-

“I will accept it,” Kell said, reaching up for it.

“Persis will be very happy to hear that you did,” he told Kell.

“Ah,” Kell replied.

“You could put it up on your wall. Just press it to the surface, and most walls will adhere. If you want me to show you-“

“Unnecessary,” Kell replied. Still holding it, he let his hands drop to his side and began to walk away.

“Kell, uh – thanks for checking on me,” Urle called after him.

Kell said nothing else, but continued away, and Urle went back to his desk, trying to decide just what might be going through the being’s mind.