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Without a word, Brakal, the one Dunmoore believed to be Kaalak, and Surgh resumed walking toward the center of the space, stopping near the negotiation table to wait.
Lauzier glanced at her.
“Commodore, the officer with Brakal, is it their grand admiral or whatever they call him?”
“No, sir. He’s what we would call an admiral of the third rank in Anglic, roughly equivalent to our vice admiral. He’s probably the commander of his escort battle group, a Shrehari by the name Kaalak.”
“In that case, you’re with Ambassador Januzaj and me,” SecGen Lauzier said before stepping off to meet his Shrehari counterpart.
Dunmoore sheathed her sword and marched in step behind Lauzier and the ambassador, halting when they did.
The three Shrehari raised clenched right fists to their chests in what Dunmoore recognized as their formal greeting. Lauzier and Januzaj replied by inclining their heads in a courtly gesture. After a moment of hesitation, Dunmoore raised her hand to her brow in a proper parade ground salute. It made the moment seem more fantastic than ever. But she knew paying a former enemy the appropriate military compliments due to someone of his rank was well within protocol.
“I am pleased we finally meet, Kho’sahra Brakal,” Lauzier said. “Our respective ambassadors have done good work over the last five days.”
He paused while Surgh translated for Brakal and Kaalak’s benefit. When Surgh fell silent, Brakal made a gesture of assent and spoke in his language, though he articulated each word with care so that Dunmoore could understand.
“They did so indeed, Leader of the Humans Lauzier.” The SecGen’s name came out as a mangled jumble. “I hope you are as satisfied as I am, so we may conclude the armistice and live side by side in peace from now until the end of time.”
Surgh translated in his halting Anglic, making Dunmoore happy her own version of Brakal’s statement mostly matched it.
“I am indeed satisfied,” Lauzier replied, gesturing toward the table. “Shall we sit and formalize the armistice agreement?”
Brakal listened to Surgh, then laboriously pronounced the Anglic word ‘yes.’ But when Lauzier, Januzaj, Kaalak, and Surgh headed for their seats, he remained rooted to the spot and turned his unnerving stare on her.
“Dunmoore. I knew it was you who destroyed Khorsan Base, Tyva Base, chased my strike group across the sector, and attacked my home system,” he said slowly in Shrehari, allowing her time to translate mentally. “We met many times after the battle at the planet of the lost humans without knowing. I owe you my thanks for having been an efficient enemy. Without your boldness, I would not have lost my command and found myself on Shrehari Prime where thanks to your daring raid I was able to seize power and end the war.”
She inclined her head in acknowledgment, then replied in rough, badly accented Shrehari, “I did my duty as best I could, Kho’sahra.”
“Your best was good enough. If more of your commanders resembled you, the war might have ended earlier. I am honored to have fought a foe of your ability.” He raised his fist to his chest again.
“I am equally honored I faced you in battle.” This time, saluting her former enemy didn’t seem strange, it felt right, as if their brief, private exchange made the armistice a reality between combatants in a way diplomats could never manage.
After one last long stare into each other’s eyes, both made their way to the table. Brakal sat across from Lauzier while Dunmoore stood behind the latter, imitating Kaalak who loomed over his leader.
Januzaj opened his attaché case and withdrew two sheets of what appeared to be paper but were copies of the agreement printed in Shrehari and Anglic on an almost indestructible polymer. He placed one before Brakal and one before Lauzier.
The actual signing of the armistice instruments took only a few moments because the agreement hammered out between Surgh and Januzaj over the previous days was simplicity itself and its words were by now well known to everyone.
The Shrehari Empire evacuates all occupied star systems, returns to its prewar borders and enters into a perpetual and mutual non-aggression pact with the Commonwealth. In return, the Commonwealth agrees to waive reparation claims.
The parties agree they will negotiate a formal treaty and deal with trade agreements, resolution of disputes, and the future of the unclaimed star systems in the area adjoining both spheres of control. They shall sign said treaty within one Earth year on the imperial border world of Ulufan.
The leaders made their marks on both copies of the armistice agreement after which Surgh and Januzaj each took one.
Lauzier and Brakal stood, exchanged farewells, and, with their respective ambassadors and escort commanders in tow, left the table. Dunmoore wondered whether she would ever meet the mysterious Shrehari kho’sahra again or whether this was indeed the last time their paths would cross. When they approached the cluster of VIPs, Grand Admiral Shkadov gave her a significant look, promising questions about her private interaction with Brakal at a later time.
Dunmoore led the escort back to the cargo hangar with due formality, gave Secretary-General Lauzier another general salute and, once the VIPs vanished into the passenger hangar, placed the spacers and soldiers at ease.
“That was a splendid showing,” she said in a voice which carried to the farthest corners of the vast chamber. “You did our species honor. And I know you’ll always remember the day we stood facing our mortal enemies and made peace with them so that no one else dies in the name of vain ambition. Thank you. You are dismissed to your ships. Guard officers take over.”
After a final exchange of salutes, Dunmoore, followed by Chief Guthren, left the cargo hangar to rejoin Iolanthe’s pinnace. Grand Admiral Shkadov intercepted her on the other side.
“What was that with Brakal, Commodore?” After she repeated the conversation, if not word for word, then close enough, he grunted. “Interesting fellow. In any case, well done, both for apparently being the catalyst that propelled him to power and for giving our SecGen a finer escort than the Palace Guard could have managed. I’ll let Armand Xi know.”
“Thank you, sir.”
They saluted each other, then Shkadov hurried aboard Terra’s imposing and luxurious VIP shuttle while Dunmoore and Guthren joined Petty Officer Knowles in the pinnace.
“Impressive ceremony,” the noncom said over her shoulder from the cockpit as they settled in. “You and the top bonehead seem to have a past, sir, if I may inquire.”
“You may.” She sat back and closed her eyes. “I spoke with Brakal for the first time minutes after taking over as acting captain of Victoria Regina, the Fleet’s last true battleship, a little over six years ago, when Captain Prighte was killed by one of Brakal’s gun volleys...”
**
“The Shrehari left without even saying farewell,” Holt reported when Dunmoore joined him in his day cabin after shedding her ceremonial finery. “As Yens would say, good riddance. You made us proud, Skipper. Everyone up here was watching. We even saw you and Brakal skip down memory lane. What did he say?”
For the second time in less than two hours, she recounted their conversation.
“You should have recorded his statement for your service record, sir. It would have done wonders to convince the promotion board you’re more than fit to be an admiral.”
She served herself a cup of coffee and dropped into the chair facing Holt’s desk.
“The video of us having a sidebar will have to suffice. Has anyone sent us instructions about what happens now?”
He nodded.
“I just got word from Terra. We’re paying Cimmeria a visit. The SecGen wants to meet with the provisional government that sprang up hours after the last Shrehari shuttle lifted off and see the damage left by the occupation with his own eyes. After that, Equinox Nova is heading back to Earth solo on a long jump while we’re staying here with Terra until HQ sends a permanent battle group to set up a new garrison.”
“Makes sense. If some rogue Shrehari commander decides on a revenge strike, we’ll fend him off. It’s not as if Task Force Luckner has any other missions lined up anyway.”
“You think they’ll keep us together as a formation? There are plenty of pirates needing a speedy death in the badlands.”
Dunmoore gave him a sad smile.
“Do you think they’ll keep us together? We’re not on the permanent order of battle.”
“We can always hope, considering the grand admiral gave us a snazzy crest.”
“Mostly for propaganda purposes, Zeke.”
He sighed.
“True.”
“Deliberately changing the subject, did Astrid compute the jump to Cimmeria?”
“On it as we speak. She’ll let me know when everyone is synced and we can break out of orbit.” He looked into his coffee mug and exhaled noisily
“What?”
“Now that they signed the armistice, I feel exactly as I do when my adrenaline crashes after a battle.”
“Getting the blues, eh? For what it’s worth, I’m about to crash as well, now that I’ve done my job. We face major adjustments, Zeke, especially those who never served in a peacetime navy, or those who have forgotten what it was like — such as us two.”
“Or those who lived for the thrill of danger and the relief that comes with the realization they were still alive and the boneheads were dead.”
He looked up at her.
“Can I interest you in a few rounds of chess?”