Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(109)
He was composed of rotating, intersecting, moving crystalline patterns. It was like a million, mile-long snowflakes dancing and bisecting each other. Each one had different shades and reflections of scintillating color.
He was fantastically beautiful.
All around the Prince were what must have been thousands of Po—some on the ground, some on ladders or cranes, some in tiny airships. They were so far away it was tough to tell what they were doing. Cleaning him? Feeding? Playing cards? Who knew?
It was only through their presence that I could estimate the size of the Prince and the size of the room itself. In the corners of the high room, almost beyond visible range, were artillery guns. An impressive security system if there ever was. I thought of Jyen briefly as I would need to be destroyer-resistant to survive those weapons.
It looked like a full-service space dock. But instead of servicing a battleship, there was this prism of royalty. I don’t know what I had expected, but this wasn’t it. The room had a severe dampness and chill, my breath billowing in clouds, and there was frost on the floor and many surfaces.
Was there a whole race of these things? It seemed impossible.
“Why are you here?” I suddenly heard from a set of speakers nearby. The voice was simulated, but unlike the clunky Po voice boxes or the Keilvin Kamigan accents, this was a lyrical, yet imposing Colmarian voice. As if he had a paid voice actor out of view—and maybe he did.
“I’m here to trade,” I said, snapping out of my reverie.
“And what is it you have to offer?”
“I didn’t say trade with you,” I fired back, idly wondering if this thing could eat me.
After a pause that made me very nervous, the Prince continued.
“I understand you have delfiblinium.”
“And I understand this ship is headed for the Colmarian Confederation.”
“We require planets.”
“Don’t we all. Don’t we all,” I said, like a down-on-his-luck galactic overlord. “But I can’t let you pass into our empire.”
“And what would you do to stop me? Little Colmarian.”
This isn’t Belvaille, I thought to myself. Take it easy. I looked back up at those artillery cannons. I didn’t speak. Because my mouth was dry. Because more lives than I could possibly imagine were at stake. And I really didn’t want to say anything stupid for once.
“If you invade us, there will be galactic war.”
“Between my people and the Colmarian Confederation?”
“No, between your people and every empire represented back there,” I said, indicating behind me, even though the diplomats were likely dozens or even hundreds of miles away. “Because a condition of them trading delfiblinium with us will be to mutually defend each other if attacked.”
“And do you believe they would honor that agreement?”
“They’ll make the arrangement because no one wants to be the only empire without a delfiblinium stockpile,” I said.
“Even if true, would they be able to resist my ship?”
“I guess it depends on how many delfiblinium warheads this heap can withstand.” I looked around appraisingly.
“What is it you want?”
“I want this ship stopped.”
“It already is. But we need planets.”
“How many?” I asked. That being the oddest concept I had ever verbalized.
“We need approximately 200 class 2B planets and 100 class 4J planets.”
Those designations meant nothing to me. But 300 planets was something. I had no idea how many occupied solar systems the Colmarian Confederation had, but you couldn’t start plucking planets out of them without harm.
“How about the Dredel Led?” I asked. “You could take planets from their empire instead.”
“They would be a formidable enemy.”
“Not worse than every other empire combined. Besides, they tried to invade us and failed. They won’t be a problem. And no one likes them anyway.”
The Boranjame only have these ships. It was their only advantage—though large advantage it was. I must have scared the crystals off this guy with my delfiblinium warheads threat. Despite the fact that I bet we could pile every ounce of delfiblinium that existed in the Colmarian Confederation under the Prince and detonate it, and he wouldn’t get more than a tummy-ache. If he even had a tummy.
I put on my best gambler face and seemed to ponder.
“I’ll tell you what, if you pull out of here, and engage the Dredel Led for your planets, we won’t trade any delfiblinium with any other empires.”
I was negotiating to not trade something I didn’t have. I thought I was the smartest guy in the galaxy until: