to meet our own leaders one day,” Pimyt mused, “especially High Ruler Coreq.”
“Many things are far more important,” the Ambassador said, his tone sharp.
Pimyt fumed. “Don’t you see? We have a lot in common, you and I, including important assignments from HibAdu commanders we’ve never met.”
“No matter. Our careers are assured. Reports from each of us have proven invaluable to the HibAdu effort.”
Pimyt grinned. “To make up for my perceived selfishness, I must give credit to your own resourcefulness in the not-too-distant past.”
Uncel’s already-large eyes widened, and he smiled. “But I have so many accomplishments, my friend. As a team member, of course. Of what do you speak?”
“I’m thinking of the time you obtained raw information from the Mutatis on the nehrcom cross-space communication system, a system that the Mutatis could not perfect. But our scientists certainly had no problems figuring it out, did they?”
“No. Truly, our forces are poised, and are fortunate. With Hibbil manufacturing skills and Adurian biotech knowledge, it is a combination of the best. No longer will our people be under the boot heels of the Humans and Mutatis.”
“We live in legendary times,” Pimyt said. “After the great HibAdu victory, perhaps historians will write of our own contributions, VV. To the team , of course. Incidentally, I was just teasing you when I exaggerated my own contribution. Sometimes it is quite simple to agitate you.”
“Yes, friend , but rile me at your own peril. You think I’m a pushover, don’t you?”
“I think a lot of things about you that are not productive to mention. A pushover? Perhaps, but I have never required a weak opponent to prevail.” He leaned forward over the desk. “But let us turn our talents elsewhere, shall we?”
“Ah yes, an excellent suggestion. Combined, we are much stronger, aren’t we? And that’s what the Coalition is all about.”
Chapter Ten
I ought to exercise more caution, but it is not in my nature. My father was a risk-taker of the highest order, and it is my weakness that I have inherited this tendency from him. Hopefully, I have not also acquired the Zultan’s madness.
—Emir Hari’Adab
The Mutati delegation should have been able to reach the Tulyan Starcloud in a few minutes, but it was taking them much longer to cross the galaxy. Hari’s two lab-pods had been in the far reaches of space for more than a day so far, but they had not yet reached their destination. At the moment the vessels were dead in space, having been stopped by their crews to assess the unexpected situation. In the lead craft, Hari’Adab and his followers were in comlink contact with the other crew, trying to figure out the problem. And inside the holds of each vessel, HibAdu prisoners were being interrogated intensely.
One thing seemed clear. The Hibbil navigation units on each ship, which the Mutati crews originally thought they understood, had sent them off-course by millions and millions of light years. But that could be made up quickly, if they could only determine where they were. At the speed of podships, even traveling along a damaged infrastructure, such distances could be covered in a relatively short time—and these lab-pods, like their natural cousins, were biological entities with seemingly unlimited travel capabilities. But the lab-pods were acting like blind birds flying headlong through space, not knowing where they were going.
According to one of the prisoners, in all manufacturing tests the Hibbils had performed, covering multiple star systems, the nav-units had functioned perfectly. Apparently, he claimed, they did not function well in all sectors—and in the deepest reaches of space, far from the Hibbil Cluster Worlds, they were undoubtedly giving erroneous readings.
Dismayed and frustrated, Hari conferred with Kajor Yerto Bhaleen. They sat at a small table in the spacious passenger compartment, examining an electronic clip
“Many things are far more important,” the Ambassador said, his tone sharp.
Pimyt fumed. “Don’t you see? We have a lot in common, you and I, including important assignments from HibAdu commanders we’ve never met.”
“No matter. Our careers are assured. Reports from each of us have proven invaluable to the HibAdu effort.”
Pimyt grinned. “To make up for my perceived selfishness, I must give credit to your own resourcefulness in the not-too-distant past.”
Uncel’s already-large eyes widened, and he smiled. “But I have so many accomplishments, my friend. As a team member, of course. Of what do you speak?”
“I’m thinking of the time you obtained raw information from the Mutatis on the nehrcom cross-space communication system, a system that the Mutatis could not perfect. But our scientists certainly had no problems figuring it out, did they?”
“No. Truly, our forces are poised, and are fortunate. With Hibbil manufacturing skills and Adurian biotech knowledge, it is a combination of the best. No longer will our people be under the boot heels of the Humans and Mutatis.”
“We live in legendary times,” Pimyt said. “After the great HibAdu victory, perhaps historians will write of our own contributions, VV. To the team , of course. Incidentally, I was just teasing you when I exaggerated my own contribution. Sometimes it is quite simple to agitate you.”
“Yes, friend , but rile me at your own peril. You think I’m a pushover, don’t you?”
“I think a lot of things about you that are not productive to mention. A pushover? Perhaps, but I have never required a weak opponent to prevail.” He leaned forward over the desk. “But let us turn our talents elsewhere, shall we?”
“Ah yes, an excellent suggestion. Combined, we are much stronger, aren’t we? And that’s what the Coalition is all about.”
Chapter Ten
I ought to exercise more caution, but it is not in my nature. My father was a risk-taker of the highest order, and it is my weakness that I have inherited this tendency from him. Hopefully, I have not also acquired the Zultan’s madness.
—Emir Hari’Adab
The Mutati delegation should have been able to reach the Tulyan Starcloud in a few minutes, but it was taking them much longer to cross the galaxy. Hari’s two lab-pods had been in the far reaches of space for more than a day so far, but they had not yet reached their destination. At the moment the vessels were dead in space, having been stopped by their crews to assess the unexpected situation. In the lead craft, Hari’Adab and his followers were in comlink contact with the other crew, trying to figure out the problem. And inside the holds of each vessel, HibAdu prisoners were being interrogated intensely.
One thing seemed clear. The Hibbil navigation units on each ship, which the Mutati crews originally thought they understood, had sent them off-course by millions and millions of light years. But that could be made up quickly, if they could only determine where they were. At the speed of podships, even traveling along a damaged infrastructure, such distances could be covered in a relatively short time—and these lab-pods, like their natural cousins, were biological entities with seemingly unlimited travel capabilities. But the lab-pods were acting like blind birds flying headlong through space, not knowing where they were going.
According to one of the prisoners, in all manufacturing tests the Hibbils had performed, covering multiple star systems, the nav-units had functioned perfectly. Apparently, he claimed, they did not function well in all sectors—and in the deepest reaches of space, far from the Hibbil Cluster Worlds, they were undoubtedly giving erroneous readings.
Dismayed and frustrated, Hari conferred with Kajor Yerto Bhaleen. They sat at a small table in the spacious passenger compartment, examining an electronic clip
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