An unannounced ship arrived at Earth, causing a flurry of alarms and consternation. A Roamer ship.

Deputy Cain studied the traces projected on the Chairman’s deskscreen. “No ID beacon, no explanation, just a small flyer with a passenger capacity of five. It’s not a cargo ship or a military vessel.”

“The ship can’t possibly be a threat, but I want to know what the hell he thinks he’s doing here.”

Finally a transmission came from the Roamer craft. In an uninflected voice, the pilot said, “We are on a peaceful mission that concerns a matter of mutual survival.”

The Chairman looked at Cain as if he should instantly have an answer. “They could be Roamer deserters,” Cain suggested. “If so, they could provide valuable information about the Confederation. Valuable enough for us to talk to them at least.”

“Nevertheless, we should prepare to shoot it down, just in case.” The Chairman took charge of the communication console himself. “Roamer ship, I am sending you coordinates for landing. We will have Remoras prepared to destroy you if you take any threatening action.”

“We are not a threat,” said the calm, androgynous voice.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Chairman Wenceslas ordered the entire Whisper Palace landing square cleared and then surrounded. Captain McCammon hurriedly marched out with a large group of royal guards.

The small ship came down without deviating a centimeter from the imposed path. The vessel’s design had a weird grace and functionality, unlike anything Cain had ever seen; the Chairman merely commented how ugly it was.

At a signal from McCammon, the guards stood ready. The ship locked down its landing pads; the rectangular hatch disengaged and slid open.

Instead of a man in a gaudy Roamer jumpsuit, as Cain expected, a chrome-and-green compy stepped out. “We mean no harm.”

A second compy appeared behind the first, similar in size and design but with a bronze and copper body. “I am PD, and this is QT. We are compy representatives.”

Everyone kept their distance. The compies stood at the bottom of the ramp and waited to be acknowledged. Finally Cain called, “Who else is aboard your ship? Who’s the pilot?”

“We both have pilot programming,” said QT. “There are no humans aboard our ship.”

Standing back with a scowl on his face, Chairman Wenceslas gestured for the guards to advance. “Conduct a full search. Check for weapons, listening devices, tracking beacons. They’ve got to have something up their sleeves.”

“We have no sleeves,” said PD. The Chairman ignored him.

“Where did you get a Roamer ship?” Cain asked, taking a step closer.

“From a fuel depot called Barrymore’s Rock,” QT said.

PD added, “Once the depot was destroyed, the former Roamer inhabitants no longer needed their ships. We thought they might be useful.” Neither compy explained further.

A squad of technicians crowded into the small Roamer vessel with scanners, but they found nothing. “It’s just a stripped-down ship, sir. The life support doesn’t even seem to be functioning.”

“We do not require life support,” said QT. Guards surrounded the pair of compies, who looked ludicrously harmless.

Studying the two small robots, the ship, the whole tableau, Cain was convinced that they were worried about the wrong thing. “I don’t believe the danger is aboard that ship. It’s in what these compies have to say.”

The Chairman slowly nodded. “I believe you’re right, Mr. Cain.”

Cain turned to the compies. “Why are you here?”

“We have a message and a proposal for Chairman Basil Wenceslas of the Terran Hanseatic League,” said QT.

The Chairman looked down at them. “Who sent you?”

“We were once the personal compies of Admiral Wu-Lin of the Grid 3 battle group,” said PD. “Now we serve the Klikiss robots.”

Though Cain remained silent, many other listeners responded with cries of outrage. Even the Chairman’s face reddened. He worked his jaw. “And why would the treacherous robots ask you to come here to speak to me?”

The two compies answered in perfectly synchronized unison. “Our master Sirix wishes to discuss forming an alliance against our mutual enemy, the Klikiss.”

“Why the hell should we believe you?” McCammon growled. “Those black robots turned our Soldier compies against us, massacred the EDF, destroyed the bulk of our space fleet.”

QT said, “The return of the Klikiss race forced Sirix to take actions that he now regrets. We acted out of desperation, only to protect ourselves.”

Cain frowned. The explanation seemed too convenient. Sirix couldn’t have known about the return of the original Klikiss until well after the black robots had seized the EDF ships. “Remember, we’re still waiting for word from Admiral Diente about his negotiation mission. By now, we may already have an alliance with the Klikiss.”

To his surprise and dismay, Cain saw a look of deep concentration on Basil’s face. “That doesn’t mean we can’t open a dialog with the black robots, does it? We should keep our options open.”

Captain McCammon looked at him as if he had gone insane, but the Chairman cut off any comments with a hand raised like a hatchet blade poised to strike. He turned to the compies. “This is a most unusual and unexpected offer, and you must accept my healthy skepticism.” Wheels were obviously turning in his mind. “But alliances have changed many times in Earth’s past, and I won’t turn down an opportunity until I learn more about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Explain yourselves further.”

55

Patrick Fitzpatrick III

As theGypsy flew off bearing a message from King Peter, Patrick could hardly believe he was actually going back to visit his grandmother. Voluntarily. He remarked on the impossible turns his life had taken.

“Some people just start out going in the wrong direction,” Zhett teased. “You were so spun around you didn’t even know youhad a Guiding Star, much less where to look for it.”

“That’s not how my grandmother will see it.” His lackluster parents were living in obscurity away from Earth, but since the Battleaxe had believed in him and wooed them to let her take him under her wing, Patrick had been raised in the upper crust of Earth society. Frankly, he had grown up to be a spoiled and ungrateful little snot. If the Battleaxe had ever suspected he would one day run off to join the Roamers, she might have drowned him at birth.

And now he had to convince her to leave the Hansa and endorse the Confederation government. Patrick prayed she would at least give him two minutes to explain himself. After all, the King had chosen Patrick to be one of the most important ambassadors in the Spiral Arm.