“Thank you,” she replied. She turned slowly to take in the entire Council. There was no way she could see all of the Council members at once, which had to be intentional. There was more than enough space for all of them to sit in one quadrant of the amphitheater.
“I presume you are all briefed on the nature of the La-Tar Cluster and their conflict with the Hierarchy, but I will summarize,” she told them. “The Kozun invaded La-Tar, the agriworld that fed the worlds of the Cluster, nine months ago.
“They withheld the food supplies from La-Tar to force the surrender of the four industrial worlds surrounding it. A UPSF vessel was in negotiations with one of the Cluster governments and was asked to intervene.
“While our ship did engage the Kozun in combat, La-Tar was liberated by ground troops provided by the rest of the Cluster’s worlds. La-Tar now sits at the center of an economic and military alliance dedicated to the mutual security of five worlds.
“That alliance distrusts and fears the Kozun Hierarchy and has asked for UPSF help maintaining their independence,” Sylvia noted. “We have agreed to this, but we have no desire to make war on the Hierarchy. We also do not believe the Kozun wish to fight the La-Tar Cluster again, but pride and eager triggers have prevented any attempt at communication so far.”
She looked around again, carefully meeting the drawn-in eyes of the masked faces around her.
“We ask that Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe use your ships to make contact with the Kozun Hierarchy and establish the terms on which the Hierarchy’s leadership would negotiate with the Cluster’s leadership.
“The United Planets Alliance believes, firmly, that if we can get empowered representatives of both states into a room, the differences and conflicts between them can be negotiated to a resolution that requires no further conflict or bloodshed.”
The room was silent for several moments, and Sylvia shrugged and continued.
“Such a conference will also require a neutral third party providing security to allow both sides a sense of safety. We accept that the United Planets Alliance does not qualify and would ask that Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe act as the guarantor for these negotiations.
“We would expect payment for that service to be split with the Kozun and hence to be negotiated later, but we are willing to provide payment for acting as a go-between with the Hierarchy,” she concluded.
“And what did you have in mind as payment?” blue-whorls-on-silver, who still had not introduced themselves, asked.
“I am prepared to make payment in refined palladium or refined iridium,” she told them. “That has traditionally served as our highest medium of exchange with the Drifter Convoys, yes?”
The Drifters traded in two things, as Sylvia understood it: refined metals from which they could build ships and electronics, and technological data with which they could make better use of the materials they had.
“It has,” the Ancient confirmed. “We will discuss this in private, Ambassador.” They gestured back up the stairs she’d come down. “If you return to your escort, they will see you to a waiting area.”
“I appreciate the Council taking time to hear my words and consider my proposal,” Sylvia told them. “I will await your response.”
The waiting area was the closest thing Sylvia had seen to what she’d normally call a garden on the “garden” ship. She suspected most of the pleasant-smelling flowering plants around her still produced edible fruit, but the main focus of the small space had been on beauty.
The Drifters had even laid out a selection of drinks for her and her people, though Chief Arendse’s testing quickly warned them that all but two had either cannabinoid- or opioid-analogs in the mix.
Since Sylvia had no intention of negotiating when high or drunk, the pitcher of water was almost empty when a robed official returned to guide her back to the Council of Ancients.
She once again reached the center stage, joining the speaker on the stage and looking up at the crowd around her.
“Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe is prepared to act as your intermediary in this matter,” blue-whorls-on-silver told her. “We have a condition and a price.”
“I will hear them, on behalf of the United Planets Alliance,” Sylvia replied.
“Our condition is that you and your vessel remain with the Convoy until we have heard from the Kozun,” the Drifter speaking for the Council said. “We have no desire to spend time chasing down an appropriate contact point for you. While we understand the negotiation is between La-Tar and Kozun, we are acting as an intermediary for the United Planets Alliance.
“Is that clear and acceptable?”
“It is both,” Sylvia said calmly. She’d be more out of touch than she liked, but Shaka had enough skip drones on board to provide reasonably solid communications with La-Tar and the Peacekeeper Initiative base in the Zion System.
“And your price?” she asked.
“We will require the technology of the gravity shield,” the Ancient told her.
Sylvia laughed. She would have faked it even if she hadn’t thought the Drifters were joking, so letting the emotion out was safe in this case.
“Even if I was permitted to trade that technology, which we both know I am not,” she said, “we also both know that this task is not of nearly sufficient value to call for a prize of that magnitude. I am prepared to pay in refined metals, not in strategic systems.”
She couldn’t see the Drifter’s face behind their mask, but she could see enough of their body language to guess they were amused.
“That is as expected,” they conceded. “We will carry out this task for seven tons of refined palladium.”
Sylvia smiled thinly.
“You are still aiming rather high, do you not think?” she asked. “Three tons.”
“Six.”
“Five.”
“Done.”
She nodded firmly and offered her hand. This was something the Drifters shared with Americans, the firm handshake as a close to the deal. Blue-whorls-on-silver shook her hand firmly.
“We presume your destroyer has the materials?” they asked.
“She does,” Sylvia confirmed. “And for the deals my companion is closing with your Quartermasters. I will return to Shaka and we will await confirmation of the success of your mission.”
“We will send over food and other supplies to make certain you are not strained by the delay,” the Ancient assured her. “This will take some days at least.”
She nodded her understanding. Shaka would be fine for the twenty or so days she understood a round-trip journey to Kozun would take, but the gesture was meaningful as well.
If the Drifters fed them, they were guests—and that meant something in almost every culture she’d encountered.
Chapter Four
“Just what is that and what is it doing on my flight deck?”
Colonel Henry Wong was more amused than the sharpness of his tone indicated, but the captain of the battlecruiser Raven was also truly unsure what he was looking at. The…thing was sitting in the middle of the small flight deck that handled his eight starfighters, and it could not have looked less like it belonged.