“What do you suggest we do now?”

Captain Taneka’s expression was grim as she posed the question. “And before you ask, trying to fight our way out of this would be ill-advised. You saw what they did to the Alliance fleet, and we couldn’t beat them, either. We’re one ship, alone, without support. So you tell me, Ambassador, what’s our next move?”

Genvass looked to Rúna for support, who shrugged in response. He didn’t blame her.

“Have they made any aggressive or intimidating gestures?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” she admitted, “though that cordon they’ve got surrounding us is feeling a little constricting. Sure, they claim it’s ‘For our protection’, and after they saved us from the Alliance, they can probably make it stick.” Her eyes flit back up to the display as they traveled deeper into Troika space. “But I’m telling you now, the difference between protection and detention is razor thin, and there’s no law that says they can’t start with one and end up with the other.”

“I assume we still have the same issue regarding reinforcements?” the Valkyrie inquired.

“We do,” Taneka confirmed. “New Terra is off the beaten path, which means it’ll take days for them to get here. I’ve updated the admiral about our situation, and he’s putting together a Task Force, but…” Her voice trailed off as she managed an awkward grimace.

“He’s hoping he won’t have to actually use it,” Genvass sighed, filling in the blanks for himself.

“Going up against the Troika has never been a winning strategy,” the captain reminded him. “The only reason we defeated them at New Terra was due to a unique set of circumstances, none of which apply here.”

“So, just like before, fighting and running are both off the table,” the ambassador inferred. “You’d rather we found a diplomatic solution instead.”

“Don’t you?” she fired back. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To figure out a way we can all get along without killing one another?”

Bowing his head, Genvass slowly nodded. “Yeah… that’s why I’m here,” he quietly agreed.

He felt a touch on his shoulder. “You know, you don’t have to do this,” Rúna pointed out.

“Don’t I?” Lifting his head, his eyes met hers. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, especially after what happened the last time I was aboard one of their ships, but the good captain is right. It’s the best option we’ve got.”

“What happened last time?” Taneka asked, suddenly curious.

“They tried to telepathically brainwash him into being a sleeper agent,” she explained. “Luckily, the Knights we had with us figured out a cure.”

Despite himself, Genvass shuddered. “They pumped me full of ketamine,” he told the captain, “and the nightmares were something I’m not in a big hurry to repeat.” She gave him an appraising look as he steeled himself, focusing his thoughts, before finally giving her a nod. “If you could patch me through, Captain, I’ll see what I can arrange.”

Taneka agreed to his request, hailing the Troika fleet. In less than a minute, she gave him the nod. “Live mic,” she warned him.

Gamely, he forged ahead. “This is Terran Ambassador Genvass Shaafvaazif, aboard the CCS Mako, requesting to speak with Troika command. Please respond.”

“Hopes this goes better than it did with the Alliance,” Rúna muttered.

He shot her a look, though he couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. Finally, there was a reply.

“Ambassador, this is Ksizan, of the Tu’udh’hizh’ak Empire,” the voice informed him. “You may recall we met briefly during the conference.”

“I remember,” he said evenly. “We appreciate your help in dissuading the Alliance fleet, but now that they have been driven from the field, I must ask your intentions.”

“We merely responded to a vessel in distress,” the Chell representative explained. “Thankfully, we were able to intervene. As you may recall, this is the very sort of assistance we offered you before. While that meeting was not as fruitful as we’d hoped, there was no reason not to extend to you the same entente we had already promised.”

“And now that they’ve departed?” Genvass asked carefully. “What happens now?”

“Well…” Ksizan paused for a moment, as if it embarrassed him to speak on the subject. It was artfully done, with the correct inflections in all the right places to give it that off-the-cuff confession element he hoped would further entice him, the only problem being it was completely artificial. It left him ill at ease, though, given the circumstances, there was little he could do about it.

“I understand, of course,” he continued, “why we were rebuffed at the conference. The history between our peoples has not been a pleasant one, for which we must assume the greater part of the blame. I believe there is much we can do for one another, and I must confess, we hoped our intervention here might grant us a more in-depth audience.”

There were more than a few disturbing implications in that statement, but this wasn’t the time to dig into that. “I would entertain such a meeting if, at its conclusion, all parties agreed to go their separate ways.” Rúna gave him a dirty look, but he ignored her.

“I would not be so hasty to dismiss our protection, Ambassador,” the Chell cautioned. “We may have driven off the Alliance forces for now, but I suspect they are still somewhere nearby. Without our ships to guard you, you would be quite vulnerable.”

“And if we decided that was a risk worth taking?” he continued, probing their limits.

Ksizan was silent for some time, mulling over his response. That was a good sign or a bad one, but honestly, he did not know which. Finally, he spoke up once more.

“Ambassador, I believe this may be one of the rare occasions where a more forthright approach may be beneficial to all parties involved,” he said at last. “We seek access to Precursor technology, while you seek to avoid doing so at all costs. Obviously, these are mutually contradictory positions. However, that does not mean some middle ground cannot be found. Perhaps it would not be what you or I might want, but there is a difference between what we want… and what we will settle for.”

His frankness left him stunned. It was completely out of character. “I appreciate your candor,” he said at last, “as well as your pragmatic approach. However, you understand that an agreement of this magnitude requires my government’s ratification. I will need time to confer with them and discuss our conversation.”

“Of course,” he conceded. “These are decisions that cannot be made in haste, or without authorization. However,” he continued, pausing just long enough to twist the knife, “I think it best for all concerned if your ship remained under our protective umbrella until we conclude our business.”

And there it was. They weren’t leaving their side until they had what they came for, or the Corsairs rescued them. They had the upper hand, and they knew it.

“I understand,” Genvass said calmly. “I will contact you when I have spoken with my government. Shaafvaazif, clear.”

“What the hell was that?” Rúna demanded. “How does any of that help us?”

“It doesn’t,” he answered, “other than buying us some time. They have us right where they want us, and at the moment there’s nothing we can do about it.” He looked to Taneka. “Unless you have something, Captain?”

“A way to escape from a fleet of Troika ships without getting shot to pieces? Sorry,” she said caustically. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“I was afraid that would be your answer,” he sighed. “Then, for now, we follow their instructions. I will also need to speak to the Dàifu once more and inform her of these developments.”

“I’ll make the call,” Taneka agreed, while Genvass settled in to wait.

“When I sent you out to make peace, this is not the outcome I’d hoped for,” the Dàifu sighed.

“In my defense…” Genvass began, only for her to wave his pleas aside.

“This isn’t your fault,” she interjected, interrupting him. “The odds were always against us on this one, though that’s nothing new for Terrans,” she said with a rueful snort. “We should have sent you with an escort, but there were concerns about the optics of that. We were afraid it might look like an invasion force.”

“It might have,” he agreed, albeit reluctantly.

“Still, I should have insisted,” she maintained. “If nothing else, it would have avoided all of this.” Shaking her head, she leaned forward into the camera. “It’s going to take time for us to gather our forces, Genvass,” the Dàifu said. “How long, I can’t say. I promise you, though, I will move heaven and earth to expedite your rescue. Humanitarian concerns aside, we simply can’t tolerate our ambassador being taken prisoner.”

“It’s still possible we can negotiate our way out of this crisis,” he insisted. “I’ve already entered talks with the Troika representative, and he seems more reasonable than I expected. We may be able to come to an agreement.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said in disgust. “All he’s doing is dangling the carrot in front of you while hiding the stick behind his back. This is the Troika we’re talking about, Genvass. You remember the Troika, don’t you? Remind me again when the word ‘reasonable’ was ever associated with them?”

“The situation has changed,” he pointed out. “They are no longer the most powerful entity in the galaxy. It has forced them to adapt to a new reality.”

“Bullshit,” she fired back. “No one has forced the Troika to do anything, not since the Battle of New Terra. We were happy enough for them to stay out of our hair while we adjusted to our new lives here, but it seems those days are over. This is them trying to take back control, nothing more.”

“I’m not convinced of that,” Genvass argued. “I’m certain, with a little time, we can find a diplomatic solution.”

“Really,” she said cynically. “Tell me, what was their opening offer?”

He grimaced, knowing full well how it was going to look. “Ksizan made it clear he would allow us our freedom in exchange for Precursor technology,” he told her, unsettled by the admission.

“Imagine my surprise,” she sneered. “That’s what they all want.”

“I am well aware of that, believe me,” he sighed. “I realize that parting with any of their technology is not ideal, but…”

“... but what?” the Dàifu demanded, interrupting him once more. “Ignoring for a moment just how bad an idea it is to give advanced technology to our enemies, do you have any idea how destabilizing it would be? If it’s your intention to burn the Perseus Arm to the ground, by all means, hand a torch and a few liters of ethanol over to the Troika.” She jabbed her finger at him. “Because that’s exactly what you’ll be doing.”

“You’re saying then that the Provisional Government will not authorize the transfer of Precursor technology to the Troika,” he said quietly.

“No, I’m saying the Provisional Government will not authorize the transfer of Precursor technology to anyone,” she snapped, “Troika, Alliance, Oivu, or anyone else who shows up begging for scraps. I realize I strong-armed you into this job, but allow me to school you in Diplomacy 101: Never bet the house, or give away your biggest advantage.”

“That only works if you’re dealing from a position of strength,” he countered, “which unfortunately does not describe us. We should be prepared for the possibility that we never learn the Precursors’ secrets,” Genvass said point blank, “and if that happens, what then?”

“We’ll still be safe here on New Terra,” the Dàifu smiled serenely. “Athena will watch over and protect us, just as she has for a billion years.”

“So we are to become hermits, then?” He shook his head. “That’s not who we are. We’re explorers, we always have been.”

“We have an entire planet to explore,” she retorted, spreading her arms wide. “A world filled with fresh air and clear water, forests and jungles teeming with exotic life. And there are plenty of other planets and moons in the system that are still uncharted. That’s not enough for you?”

“On the contrary, it is more than enough for me,” he answered. “I would be quite happy living out my days on New Terra. It is not, however, enough for humanity. As a species, we have never allowed ourselves to be penned in. Our history shows that repeatedly.”

“We will adapt,” she said simply. “We have to.”

“And to hell with the rest of the galaxy, is that it? The Alliance supported us in our darkest hour. The Oivu fed and clothed millions of refugees during the Yīqún War. We would not be where we are today, without their help, and you want us to simply turn our backs on them?” he stared at her in shock. “What about loyalty? What about honor?”

“And where were they when we begged for a place to call home?” she sneered. “When they forced us to bow and scrape and grovel for the breadcrumbs that fell off their tables. When they traded in our flesh and used us as guinea pigs. When we bled and died on a hundred different worlds, fighting their wars for them. When we were forced to steal in order to survive and were branded as pirates for our troubles. When we gave up our very bodies to live in Cyberspace because we had no other choice.” She stared him down hard. “Where were they then?”

Genvass stared back in shock. He’d never seen this side of the Dàifu, and it shook him down to his very core. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

It took him a few moments to gather his wits. Finally, he nodded. “I take your point, Dàifu,” he said at last. “Well then, if negotiation is impossible, how soon can we expect to see the Admiral’s armada?”

“A few days, at least,” she informed him, the color slowly fading from her expression. “You’ll need to stall them until then. Do you think you’re up to it?”

“I guess I’ll have to be, won’t I?” he shrugged.

“Stay strong, Genvass,” she steeled him. “Never forget who you are… and who they are.”

And with that, the screen when dark.

He glanced around the empty compartment before bowing his head. Suddenly, the galaxy seemed a much darker place.