CHAPTER 8

The Hrang spy looked absolutely Terran; he even moved like a Terra as he took a seat in the deep leather chair preferred by Crandal. The implant-modified nose curled up at the acrid smell of the smoke, but the pipe smoker merely shrugged. With a very Terran sigh the Hrang told the man, “You’ve put yourself in a very untenable position in the minds of my colleagues. We are not quite certain that we want any involvement in an assassination attempt on Alexander. The Chem couldn’t accomplish it. I don’t see any particular reason why you or your associates should be any more successful. If you fail then we open ourselves up to Alexander’s wrath. He was not so merciful with Bureel of Chem. Considering he already has two thousand Hrang in custody I am not certain that I want to put my people or our allies in a more precarious position.”

“Your concern is understandable, if a bit late. You already have Alexander nipping at your heels. Even as you mass your fleets he is countering you. Don’t look so surprised my friend, your movements are common knowledge to us; I’m certain Alexander’s information is much more detailed and up to date than ours. You are rather careless and sloppy, to be perfectly honest. It is somewhat difficult for me to believe your civilization is as advanced as it is considering the clumsiness with which your Alliance wages war.”

“We will not appear so sloppy, as you call it, when Terra is surrounded by vast numbers of warships,” the Hrang told him pointedly. “No adversary in the history of Galactic warfare has ever prevailed with as great a numerical disadvantage as the Terrans now face.”

“Then why are you here talking to me? If you are as confident as you seem then there is no reason for the risk you are taking just to see me. Go ahead then and fight your war. Beat Alexander and dictate your terms to him.” The Hrang was silent. The threat was not a hollow one and he knew it. After a few leisurely puffs at his pipe, the man continued. “The truth is, you’re scared to death of him. He manhandled, excuse the expression, the Chem and now you’re next. Numbers don’t mean anything to Alexander, power does. Alexander knows his destiny as well as you do, and he does not mean to leave it unfulfilled. The fact that you have more ships than he does is a small inconvenience to him. It just means he has to think harder about defeating you. That’s alright though, because he enjoys the challenge. Isn’t that what your analysts are telling you? Now, since I assume you agree in general with my observation, as I don’t see you leaving, let’s get down to business. We will take care of Alexander for you. With that accomplished we deprive the body of the snake from its cognitive as well as spiritual head.”

“You are quite certain Terran aggression will die with Alexander?”

“Alexander is the heart and soul of this mad scheme of galactic conquest. Without him there will be a scramble for Terran security. When the Alliance offers terms for peace, which will ensure Terran security with a minimum of territorial loss, the transitional government will accept.”

“How can you be so certain that your government will accede, especially if the Alliance claims territory as part of the arrangement?”

“In a barter some demands are expected, territory, prisoner exchange, etc.” Crandal told the Hrang, and then waved his hand as if to purge the issue from his mind. “Never mind that, however, your negotiators will have no problems because they shall deal through me. Your ambassadors shall request that any and all negotiations be channeled through myself. How so? It is simple. In this case the truth works much better than any lie. I was chief of the Terran council which the Scythians dealt with Earth forty years ago. That will come as a small sensation, but it is accurate enough to get my colleagues and I what we want. From that position we will be able to dictate policy once again. That is our angle to this situation. Your angle is, of course, that you will be dealing with a known quantity that has your best interests in mind.”

“Your offer is intriguing,” the Hrang admitted, but with the caveat that he would still have to sell the plan to the Alliance council. “That difficulty, however, may be overcome with certain assurances. I could guarantee a positive vote in the council with pre-conditions.”

“Which would be what?”

“The return of the Hrang prisoners; territorial concessions; and a reduction in the Terran fleets,” the Hrang told him. The alien did not note any sign of affirmation or negation on the Terran’s part, so he explained his reasoning. “The return of the prisoners will give me the Hrang vote. The Golkos will be looking to expand into the frontiers of Terra, and they would not be disappointed to absorb part of the ancient Scythian empire in the process, so territory gains their vote. A Terran fleet reduction to a system defense force for the Terran Homeworld-say about two hundred and fifty ships-should satisfy the Seer’koh, the Syraptose and the Quotterim. That would allow me to convince the major players of the Alliance that we can deal with you. In return we can supply you with information and technology which will increase your chances of success.”

“And the assurance you shall deal with Terra through me,” the man added.

“That assurance as well,” the Hrang replied.

“I do not foresee any problem concerning your pre-conditions,” the man told the Hrang, “that is, unless Alexander executes the Hrang spies. That is an event I have no control over.”

“You had better hope that he does not do so,” the Hrang answered

After the Terran nodded his agreement the alien rose from the chair. The man did likewise. “I shall contact my superiors,” the alien said. “They shall press the issue, but I doubt whether we shall have an answer in anything less than two of your days. Until that time I urge you to make no attempt on Alexander’s life. I can guarantee nothing if you proceed before you have our full support.”

“Understood,” the man said, taking a deep drag through his pipe. When he spoke again it was with the wry grimace that his colleagues found so disquieting. He took out his pipe and pointed the stalk at the Hrang, saying, “Now you understand me: don’t even think of trying to double cross me on this. I’ll make it a point to keep your Hrang friends until I’m safely entrenched here. On the first hint of trouble I carry out the execution Alexander has hesitated over. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly,” the Hrang smiled. “I think I can convince my associates in the profit of this without any cause for alarm. Beyond the concessions we may gain it is certainly more to our advantage to deal with a being as predictable as yourself instead of the cunning Alexander. Good day.” The Hrang inclined his Terran head with a irritating ghost of a smile and left the room.

The man with the pipe watched the alien go, and then quietly laughed; fully aware he’d been slighted. He took a long drag and slowly wreathed himself in smoke, muttering, “Son of a bitch, you’re more Terran than I thought!”