Theirs Not to Reason Why 5: Damnation by Jean Johnson Page B

thank you for such eloquent introductions, Meioa President, on all our behalf,” Ia stated without preamble. “But as much as protocol would have each faction taking turns to make opening statements of their own, I must beg your indulgence, all of you, to allow me to lead the first part of this meeting so that it is both quick and efficient.
    “Time is a very precious commodity for me. I would rather spend as much of it on the needs of the war as wisely as I can right up front, and get things settled before it is time for me to bow out and leave the rest of you to handle those many other matters which only you can address, and of which I have no part.” She looked around the room at the assembled leaders, both political and military, including the two ambassadorial environment suites. “Are there any objections, or may I have your permissions to proceed?”
    More than one brow lifted: Myang’s, as well as the Emperor of V’Dan. The military leader of the K’Katta—whose name nobody outside his own species could pronounce, so he had been introduced as “Chiswick” for short—curled up and in one of his forelegs, almost as if he were going to raise a hand had he been a Human. He relaxed it without speaking, however.
    Ia looked over at her two leaders, seated to her left. Premiere Mandella gestured at her to take command. The Admiral-General sighed and sat back, her own hand twisting in a brief gesture that was half shrug, half permission as well.
    “. . . Thank you. With the spread of Dabinian passion-moss spores across several oxygen-based planets, the Salik are effectively and efficiently being driven off-world and back into the stars, back to areas where they can control their atmospheric content. They are trying to rely more heavily upon their mechanical forces, but those are being contained by the efforts of the counter-programmers, particularly the code dancers of the Gatsugi forces,” Ia acknowledged, bowing slightly to the President of the Collective.
    President Guw-shan preened a little, flexing both sets of shoulders back while his creamy not-hair strands fluffed up a little. He drew in a breath to speak but stopped himself when Ia held up her hand, middle and ring fingers folded down. The hand sign was Gatsugi, not Human, and mostly an approximation, as his species had three fingers and a thumb per hand, not four and a thumb. It acknowledged his urge to speak, conceded the contributions he would have made, and requested his silent patience.
    For a species that had evolved with the need to be super-quiet at times in the face of aurally superior foes, the only way she could have been more eloquent without audible words was if she could have changed the golden tan hue of her skin. From the flush of brown-tinged blue that briefly mottled his skin, her gesture mollified him despite the way it irritated him to be cut off before he could speak.
    “But we still have a long ways to go, meioas,” she cautioned. “There are still numerous Salik installations hidden in interstitial space. With the Salik forces being forced back into space, our own fleets are being worn down by the constant fighting. Ambassador Juljvm, Nestor-Adjunct,” she stated, addressing the Dlmvlan ambassador behind his comm-augmented window. “Your people have long remained neutral in this war. Your starships are numerous, intact, and whole—you have just as many vessels available for combat as the entire Alliance combined, and probably more, since you have no attrition from war. Is your government willing to break their neutrality at this point in time to join with the rest of us in destroying the Salik War Fleet?”
    The Dlmvlan ambassador hesitated a long moment. His aides could be seen muttering words, even gesturing; the movements were alien, but it was obviously an argument, for the Nestor-Adjunct slashed one clawed limb outward, and the others subsided, sinking back into their nest-chairs. On the oxygen side of the glass, the