Options
© 2020 by Walter Reimer


The hyperspace communications network had taken a beating ever since hostilities had erupted between the Confederacy and the Empire. The former raiding policy had destroyed many of the comsats and beacons, and while the network was being rebuilt there could still be a noticeable time lag between transmitter and recipient.

“She said that?” Hwillis Shumeng asked.

“Yes,” Anulka-Mei Balakrishnan said.

The rabbit’s ears stood straight up. She cocked her head and asked, “She said only that?” Clearly, the Foreign Minister was skeptical.

The Ambassador felt her ears go back and she resisted the urge to start cresting. “I had my padd on record, Shumeng. I could play it back for you if you want.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Hwillis seemed to deflate from her ears downward. “You’re the expert,” she said. “Is it war, or will they get over being pissed and come back to the table?”

Balakrishnan shook her head. “It’s war, and we’re going to lose.”

“Defeatism, Anulka? You can get shot for that.”

“It’s not defeatism, Shumeng, it’s fact. The military’s managing to hold the Critters off for now, but when they call up their reserves – “

Hwillis blinked, momentarily confused. “They haven’t yet?”

“No. From the information I have from my military attaché, so far we’re seeing their active Fleet.” The Dhole-Akita canine leaned toward the video pickup. “That’s only forty percent of their forces, Shumeng.” She had the fleeting satisfaction of her former lover and current superior gape in shock, and she sat back a little. “We have to see what we can do to salvage this mess.”

“Do . . . do you think we can?” the doe asked.

The canine shrugged. “I don’t know,” she finally said after thinking for several moments. “Let the military know just how badly they’ve fucked up. They might take a jump at Terra itself – “

“They’ll break their teeth off.”

“Are you sure of that, Shumeng? Care to stake your life on that?” Balakrishnan asked. The two glared at each other until the doe finally sank back.

“Do what you can, Anulka,” and the Foreign Minister broke the connection.

Balakrishnan sat and gazed, unseeing, at the blank surface of her padd for several moments before getting up and walking over to the outer office where her political and military aides were talking. She pointed at the antelope. “Get in touch with the Imperial envoy, and see if she’ll talk to me over dinner.”

The Political Officer looked confused. “I thought the talks were broken off.”

“They were,” the canine snarled, “but we’re going to try.”

The antelope stood up. “All right. Where shall I ask her to meet you?”

“I don’t know,” Balakrishnan said irritably. She gave a flip of a paw and said, “That place by the forest.”

“Joe’s?”

“Yes, there. At least I can have a last meal.” She turned and stalked away, tail switching back and forth angrily.