Chapter 3

"So is that the message? That your ... family ... is preparing to unilaterally stop the Sa'arm by destroying entire planets?"

"Not the entire message," Joe answered. "We are preparing ourselves to do just that. We are willing, however, to eschew that action if the Navy, and by extension, the Confederacy, effects a change in policy that insures the survival of Earth and its natural inhabitants."

"So you are going to try blackmail..."

"Admittedly, it is an attempt to influence from a position of strength. Some might call it coercion., but it isn't an idle boast, and it isn't a threat against life or property belonging to our so-called allies, the Confederacy. If the Confederacy and its human Navy refuse to act to effectively defend Earth and its human population, then my cosca will be committed to the utter and complete annihilation of the Sa'arm."

"But that's genocide!"

"And leaving Earth for the Sa'arm to consume and turn into lizard shit isn't?" Joe bit back angrily. "Forgive me Ray, but we're talking about my species here. Yours too, if you'll remember, and think about this: it's also the species to which every member of your Navy, and every one of their concubines, belongs!

"We have observed the policies of the Confederacy in action for many years, and it has become clear to us, that their policy has nothing to do with eliminating the Sa'arm as a threat to non-member races, but rather is aimed at containing their expansion, in order to preserve the Confederacy's own idyllic existence.

"It has also become clear that the real purpose of recruiting humans has been twofold: i.e., not only do the peaceful races of the Confederacy not want to dirty their hands fighting the Sa'arm themselves, they also would prefer a galaxy cleansed of humans, except for a few trained dogs that they've selected.

"Consider carefully what I'm telling you, Ray. My family, people whom you have characterized as criminals and gangsters, stands ready to use whatever resources they can bring to bear in the defense of our species and home planet. You and your Navy, on the other hand, have abandoned Earth and all but an insignificant fraction of humanity, in order to defend the interests of other species. Species which, incidentally, will still eternally consider you to be lower than dog shit, because you aren't civilized enough by their standards.

"Who is the traitor here?" Joe drew close to Ray's face, and growled. "I'll tell you, and you had damn well better believe that my opinion counts! You are! You and your fucking Navy! You were human before you were seduced by the Confederacy, and now you've turned your back on most of humanity!" He stood up and shook himself.

"We care nothing for what the other races in the Confederacy will think of us afterwards. Our only concern is preventing Earth from being overrun by the Sa'arm. We will see that happen, or we will die trying - but I guarantee you, in either case, much of the Sa'arm race will vanish!" Joe whirled about and left the room.

The doctor approached a much-subdued Ray and checked his vitals, saying, "It's been quite awhile since I've seen him get that worked up!"

"Maybe you should go look after him," Ray responded. "I thought he was going to have a stroke, for a minute there..."

"You worried about his health?" the doctor grinned.

"Well, no, not really. But getting that intense doesn't help his credibility..."

"If you haven't seen enough by now to believe, it isn't going to happen," the doctor shook his head. "When we finish here," he continued. "we'll return you to your room to freshen up. He'll probably want to speak to you one more time, and afterward, we'll start to prep you for the return trip."

Events transpired pretty much as the doctor had anticipated, and Ray once again found himself in the office, looking across the desk at an obviously fatigued Joe.

"Please accept my apologies, Ray. I don't often lose my temper like that. As you may have ascertained, however, it is a subject close to my heart."

Ray, not wanting to press his luck at this point, just nodded, and asked, "What now?"

Joe took a deep breath, and held up a data chip of the type currently popular on Earth.

"This," he said, "contains a transcript describing our capabilities, in general terms, and setting forth our requirements ... our demands, if you wish. It also contains the information necessary to allow your Navy to locate and examine this base, or what remains of it after we abandon it. You will find it in the right front pocket of your trousers when you awaken.

"In addition, it contains the coordinates of the system in which we destroyed that planetoid for your education, and a video record of the event itself. No doubt the Navy will want to verify our activities there. I would recommend a cautious approach to the system, as there will doubtless be a lot of debris from the explosion, traveling at high rates of speed, near that system." He paused for a moment, then asked, "Do you have any questions?"

Ray considered it for a moment, and answered, "Yeah. Too many, though, and I don't think that the answers would help me sleep at night."

Joe chuckled, and replied, "Probably not. But look on the bright side, the next time you wake up, you'll be back in your hotel room, along with everything you had when you went to sleep!"

"What do you expect me to do, though?"

"Just tell the truth, Ray. Give the Navy a copy of that chip, and tell them the truth about how you came by it."

"You know, they'll come looking for you..."

"Let them come," Joe waved off the warning. "The Confederacy and your Navy have remained unaccountable to humankind for too long. It doesn't matter to us if they hate us. We're well-established and well-hidden. Should they find some of us, they will also find that we are not averse to defending ourselves.

"We are not seeking any kind of conflict with your Navy, and will go to great lengths to avoid it. It doesn't make any kind of military sense for them to expend resources trying to contain and/or destroy us, when they don't even have what it takes to pursue their main mission. Finally, even if they get me, or one of my top men, there are others waiting in the wings to carry on, and getting me in the first place isn't a high probability event."

Ray shrugged, as best he could in the confinement chair. "I'm not so sure of that, and it's unlikely that they'll admit it, even if it's true. I'll tell the truth, though. I have nothing to gain by suppressing it, and besides, they're probably going to drag it out of me with drugs, anyway."

Joe nodded soberly. "Unfortunate, but very likely. There is one more thing I need to tell you, though."

"What's that?" Ray queried.

"There is a file on the chip, containing an encrypted text string. If you find that your command structure needs further demonstration of our ability to follow through, simply broadcast the decrypted string from any of your ships operating near Earth. We'll be listening, and respond appropriately."

Joe stood and walked over to Ray. Placing his hand on Ray's shoulder, he said, "Again I must apologize, for I would like to shake your hand before you leave. Nothing has changed between us, however, except that now you know the truth about us. I can't take the chance that you would act predictably, so this is goodbye. It is unlikely, but perhaps someday we may meet again, and hopefully, call each other friend." He gave Ray's shoulder a squeeze, and motioned for the doctor to take him away.

BGEN Raymond "Ray" Thompson awoke with a headache, again, but this time found that he could raise his hand to his forehead. Opening his eyes, he discovered that he was back in his hotel room. For a moment, he considered the possibility that he'd been dreaming, but the presence of two Confederacy Marines, standing at the door quashed that notion.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and started to rise. As he did, one of the marines took aim at him with a stinger, and the other saluted, shouting, "Please remain seated, SIR!"

Ray returned the salute as best he could while remaining seated, and waited. The marine with the stinger didn't waver, but the one who'd spoken rapped sharply on the door. A short while later, the door opened to admit one LTGEN Steven Lipscomb, one of Ray's former classmates, and now head of Naval Intelligence. Ray continued to sit quietly.

"What? No salute?" Lipscomb said with a grin.

"Seems your pets," Ray nodded at the Marines, "don't want me to move. Hard to do a proper salute, under the circumstances."

Steve looked around and nodded as well. "You boys can wait outside now," he told the Marines. The "boys" saluted smartly and shouted "AYE AYE, SIR!" before stepping through the open door.

Ray was troubled.

"Steve, why were those guys told to detain me?"

"Well, Ray, I was hoping you could answer that question for me ... you're a high-ranking officer in the Navy, and you disappeared from the AI monitors for several days. All efforts to find or contact you have failed miserably, then you suddenly reappear, unannounced, in the very location from which you left. In the process, you have circumvented every measure we have for insuring your safety and our security. The Navy thinks it has reason to worry about you and your motives, whatever they are. Suppose you tell me what happened and why?"

"I'll do better than that." Ray took the chip he knew had been left in his pocket and handed it to Steve. "I've been told that it's all on that chip, and no, I'm not going to spend the next five years repeating myself to every would-be inquisitor that comes along. You arrange for the brass to meet with me, and I'll tell my tale once, and that's all."

"I can't do that Ray. You know that," Steve said.

"Then you'd better bring out the good stuff," he responded angrily, "because I've about had my fill of being treated like a side of beef. Go look at that chip, and see what you think needs corroboration ... and if you want any cooperation from me, take your Marines with you when you leave."

"I can get your cooperation anyway..."

"No Steve, you can get, at best, a dead body to dispose of. I'm not going to stand for being your prisoner. We're supposed to be on the same side. I can't be on your side as your prisoner."