The Paygan returned the next morning, and this time he wasn’t alone.

Alongside him were the same officers who had called for the Valkyries’ surrender only a few days prior: Decurion Yaannissi of the Legion, and Bratok Uja Dolth of the Zaitai. The Legionnaire looked somewhat more hospitable than the last time they’d met, while the Zaitai representative seemed surlier than ever.

As before, Colonel Holme and Captain Inaba waited for them, with First squad pulling security once again. This time they’d erected a small pavilion, along with a table and chairs, in order to conduct business.

The Ixi commander came to a halt a few paces in front of the Valkyrie officers, gracing them both with a sweeping bow. “Greetings,” he nodded. “As we have been in this place before, and since time grows short, perhaps we could dispense with the formalities?”

The colonel nodded in return. “Fine by me,” he agreed, motioning them towards the waiting chairs. Once they were all seated, he gestured to the Paygan. “You were the one who requested this meeting, so it only seems fitting that you should start.”

“As you wish,” he replied, before glancing at his companions. “We have come here today to negotiate an end to the current hostilities.”

“You wish to discuss your formal surrender?” Holme answered, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting turn of events.”

“He said nothing about surrendering, Terran,” Uja Dolth snapped, before the Paygan could respond. “This parley is regarding a ceasefire, nothing more.” He glared at the others, daring them to disagree.

The colonel’s face grew hard. “I’d say we’ve already achieved that, since we captured you and confiscated your weapons,” he pointed out, “unless you were planning something terminally stupid.”

The Bratok snarled back at him, as the Ixi leader clamped down hard on his shoulder. “That’s enough,” the Paygan hissed. “We spoke of this, and I have explained the stakes involved. If you prefer to negotiate separately, I will not stop you, but know this: the Brigade will not support you.”

“Neither will the Legion,” the Decurion chimed in.

“It seems there’s some dissension in the ranks, Sir,” Captain Inaba said graciously. “Perhaps we should postpone this meeting until our counterparts are in agreement.”

“I assure you, that will not be necessary,” the Paygan said in a rush. “The Bratok was merely staking out an initial bargaining position, wasn’t he?” he asked the Zaitai pointedly. “Even though we agreed prior to this conference that such a move would be counterproductive… perhaps even leading to said individual waking up with his throat severed.” The Ixi’s face was carved from granite, his eyes cold as a glacier, as he made his point.

The Zaitai commander flared his nostrils. “Easy for you to say, Ixian,” he growled. “Unlike your Brigade, my mercenaries fight for plunder and… other considerations. There is no plunder to be found in surrender. What am I supposed to tell them when they demand their rightful share? How do I prevent them from rising in revolt?”

“You could tell them that if they do, we’ll blow their goddamn brains out,” the captain said with a wintry smile.

“It’s a bit early in the conference to make threats, captain,” Holme said in rebuke, before glancing back at the Bratok, “though I’m not saying it’s off the table.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” the Decurion snapped, rolling his eyes before leaning in. “The Paygan explained to us what you are attempting, and what is at stake. Being completely forthright, at any other moment in time I would have laughed in your face, had you come to me with this.”

“In fact you did, last time,” the colonel reminded him.

“Yes, well,” the Legionnaire said uncomfortably, “the last time we met, we still held the upper hand. Sadly, you have forced us to reevaluate a few things since then.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I despise the Troika as much as any other; more, perhaps, considering how many of mine have bled because of them. But I am a mercenary by trade, which means I do not sign on with hopeless causes.” He paused for a moment as he regarded the Terran officers. “However, I have occasionally taken a calculated risk.”

“It’s a risk, all right,” Holme agreed. “Not so much for us Terrans, since we’re screwed either way, but for the rest of you? You could walk away right now, and hope that the Troika leaves you be.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Except for that disturbing report from Shining Blade, that is.” He glanced back at the Paygan. “You passed that bit of intel along, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he nodded, “and I have full confidence in its accuracy. Once we lost the battle, the Troika saw us as nothing more than excess cargo.”

“So there it is,” the colonel told them, spreading his hands wide. “Like it or not, we’re all in the same boat. The Troika will gladly slaughter every one of us, simply to preserve their dominance.” He leaned back in his chair, gauging their reactions. “A mere ceasefire won’t cut it, gentlemen; like I said, we already have that. But I also understand why a surrender might be seen as unacceptable… even repugnant. Therefore, I am willing to consider a compromise.”

“A compromise?” The Paygan gave him an appraising look. “You wouldn’t already have copies of said compromise ready for us to endorse and sign by any chance, would you?” he said with a merry twinkle.

“As it just so happens, I do,” Holme smiled, as Inaba produced three electronic tablets, each in their native tongue, sliding them across the polished surface.

The three aliens each took up the proffered device and started reading. Minutes later, the Ixi commander placed his back on the table. “I have no objections to this document,” he announced, “and I will gladly advise the Emperor to sign.”

“While I would be willing to sign, I’m afraid I cannot speak for my government,” the Decurion announced. “I suspect there will be much debate in parliament.”

“Care to place any bets which way they’ll jump?” the colonel asked curiously.

“I suspect it will be close,” the Legionnaire ventured, “but in the end?” He eyed the human commander speculatively. “I believe that fear of the Troika will drive them to your camp… just as you intended.” His gaze grew even more piercing. “It would seem that you Terrans have hidden depths.”

Holme merely smiled and said nothing.

The Bratok slammed his tablet down onto the table. “Well, I have objections,” he retorted, “starting with the clause in Article 3.” He glared at the humans seated across from him. “You expect us to meekly submit to your ‘compromise’, one that insists you Terrans are to head this fledgling Alliance? How are you fit to lead?”

“If you think for one second, you can just weasel your way in…” Captain Inaba snarled.

“And who else would you suggest?” the Paygan demanded, interrupting the captain’s tirade, “You? While some might object to the Terrans, all will object to the Zaitai. No one will trust you to command this Alliance, and you are well aware of this. Stop wasting our time.”

“It might surprise you to learn just who would support our bid for leadership,” Uja Dolth fired back, “but we will set that aside, for now. Article 3 states that leadership will be given to Terran authority, yes? Which Terran authority?” he challenged them. “Your government? You have no government, just a handful of fractious Clans, constantly at each other’s throats.” He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “I submit we risk our entire existence by signing this document, and yet you expect us to kowtow to a race that cannot promise even a modicum of stability? If we do this, the Troika will come at us with everything they have, and if you cannot guarantee a clear line of command and succession, then we are doomed before we even begin.”

The Decurion started to object and then thought better of it. He grew thoughtful as the Zaitai laid out his challenge, before turning to the Paygan. “The Bratok makes a valid point,” he said evenly.

“Yes, he does,” the Ixian admitted unhappily. “Colonel, you may rest assured the Troika will exploit every weakness possible when hostilities begin. They will target such an obvious fracture point in your command structure without hesitation. What will your people do then?”

Holme and Inaba glanced at one another, each hoping the other had a brilliant answer already prepared, both realizing too late they did not. “Perhaps… a brief recess is in order,” he said at last, “while both sides take some time to discuss these developments.”

“A fine suggestion,” the Paygan agreed, rising to his feet. “We will reconvene at your pleasure.” The three aliens exited the pavilion, moving some distance away as the colonel signaled Kai and Rúna to join them, quickly bringing them up to speed.

“What are we supposed to do?” Holme asked them. “Because as much as it pains me to admit it, that greasy little bastard makes an excellent case.”

“Sir, this is way above our paygrade,” Kai said apprehensively.

“And whistling up an Oivu trade ship isn’t?” Inaba pointed out. “We’re past that now, sergeant. Get used to it.”

“There’s only one answer that I can see, colonel,” Rúna shrugged. “Unite the Clans.”

“Unite the Clans,” he repeated blankly, shaking his head. “It’ll be easier building the Alliance.”

“The Clan Wars ended over a century ago, and there’s still bad blood because of them,” the captain reminded the NCOs. “Where would we even begin? Hell, the damn Proteans are in chaos at the moment, while the others are all scattered across the Perseus Arm. Without something to anchor us, all of us, it’s hopeless.”

“What about Freya?” Kai suggested.

“Won’t work,” Holme said sourly. “The Corsairs would claim jurisdiction and try to force the others into accepting their authority. Which they would absolutely balk at. Which means war. Again.”

“If a ship won’t work, what about the Dharmists?” Rúna asked, taking another swing. “Maybe one of their worlds has hosts that would loan us some space.”

“Same problem,” the colonel answered, “only with aliens added into the mix.” He slumped back into his chair. “Maybe, in time, we could work something out, but right now? I just don’t see how it’s possible.”

“Then what? That’s it?” The corporal looked frantically at the others. “We’ve come this far, there has to be something we can do!”

“I don’t suppose the Oivu owe you another favor?” Inaba said with a hint of sarcasm.

“That was our last marker,” Kai said sourly. “I’m surprised one of the others hadn’t already claimed it.”

“Regardless of whether we can reunite the Clans, we still face the same problem here,” Holme declared. “We’re still in danger of being attacked by the Troika, and even if they won’t admit it, so are they. At the moment, that’s where we need to focus our efforts. The Alliance has to come first, or else the rest is moot.”

“Agreed,” Inaba nodded. “Question is, can we sell them on it?”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” he sighed. “Get them back here.”

Kai whistled to Becca, pointing at the trio of aliens. She nodded and made her way over to them, gesturing at the pavilion. Minutes later they had retaken their seats, with the Paygan giving the two NCOs a knowing smile.

“I’m pleased to see we are finally dispensing with the fiction that you are both nothing but ordinary warriors,” he chuckled.

“We are,” Rúna protested.

“Sergeant Kai and Corporal Aukes have both proven to have a… unique insight,” Holme said after a moment’s thought. “They are here in an advisory capacity.”

“As you say, colonel,” the Ixian replied, inclining his head, but there was no disguising the intense look of satisfaction on his face as he did so. “So, to business then. Have you discussed the point my colleague Bratok Uja Dolth has raised?”

“We have,” he nodded gravely, “and while we recognize the validity of your argument, reuniting our Clans under a single banner is not something that can be accomplished overnight. We agree it’s a goal worth pursuing, but it will probably be years before we see the fruits of our labors. Forming this Alliance has to be the more immediate objective.”

“And when one of your other factions attempts to force its way in and take over, what then?” the Bratok fire back. “For that matter, how long do you think you can remain in the leadership position when races join you aren’t holding hostage? Larger, more powerful entities, who will force you aside and seize power for themselves?”

“Are you trying to muck this up?” the Decurion snapped. “Do you think for one second the Troika will pat you on the back and say, ‘Good boy’, if you abort this Alliance before it ever gets off the ground? If so, you’re an even bigger imbecile than I’d imagined.”

The Zaitai jumped to his feet, kicking away his chair. “Say that again, Dhaha’taag!” he snarled. The Legionnaire was a heartbeat behind him, his hand scrabbling at his waist for a blade that wasn’t there as the pair faced off.

The humans looked on helplessly as the Paygan stood between them, attempting to placate them both, “Gentlemen, please…”

BANG-CRACK!

Everything came to a crashing halt, as all eyes turned to Rúna. A wisp of smoke drifted from the barrel of her rifle as she glared at the others. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she shouted at them. “You know the Troika are coming, but here you are, fighting each other like fucking children! Do you want to die on this godforsaken rock?” she cried out, chambering another round. “If so, I’m happy to accommodate you.” Socking the butt of her weapon into her shoulder, she trained it on the Bratok. “Just say the word, and I’ll finish this argument, once and for all.”

“Corporal, put that down at once!” Colonel Holme thundered. “This is not how we do things!” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the captain’s hand slowly reaching for her sidearm.

“You’ll can’t draw that piece faster than I can pull this trigger, ma’am,” she said evenly, before returning her attention to the Zaitai. “I asked you a question, asshole.”

“Rúna, what are you doing?” Kai said frantically.

“Taking out the trash,” she growled. “So, what’s it going to be?”

The Bratok stood his ground, glaring at her. “Go ahead, shoot,” he sneered. “Whether I die at your hands or the Troika’s, the result will be the same.”

“Have you heard a word we’ve said?” she snarled, “that’s what we’re trying to stop! But if you keep this up, the Troika will kill us, so knock it off! Maybe try cooperating for once in your miserable life, or I swear by Holy Mother Terra I will kill you where you stand.”

The four humans and three aliens stood there, frozen in a tableau… until the sound of laughter broke the spell. Six heads turned as one towards the Paygan, who was chortling with amusement.

“If you were not such a hideous-looking creature, I would gladly take you as my third wife,” he chuckled. “Such fire! Such passion! You would make a splendid Ixian!”

“... third wife?” she said carefully, the barrel swiveling in his direction, just as Kai intervened and pushed her weapon down.

“Not now,” he hissed, “you’re in enough trouble as it is.”

“No… she’s right,” the Decurion spoke up. “Our ship is plummeting from the sky, while we sit and argue over the decor.” He bent down and picked up the tablet, affixing his signature before handing it back to the astonished colonel. “Our odds may be slim, but I would rather stand beside the likes of you, facing the real threat to this galaxy.”

The Paygan was still cackling as he retrieved his own tablet and did likewise before the pair faced the Zaitai. “Well?” he asked.

The Bratok furiously snatched up the device and scrawled his name before tossing it contemptuously aside. “There… it’s done,” he snarled. “But think well on this moment, when the Troika are bombing us into dust.”

Captain Inaba gathered up the tablets, double-checking the signatures before offering them to the colonel. He gazed down at them, each in turn, before looking back up at the three commanders. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know what our future holds, but I know our odds are better now than they were before.”

“How soon can we expect additional reinforcements?” Inaba asked.

The trio suddenly grew quiet. Finally, the Paygan spoke up. “Governments do not move swiftly, I’m afraid,” he said with chagrin, “especially when asked to face such a hard choice. They will come, I am certain, but when?” He spread his hands wide. “Only the stars know for certain.”

The Decurion had trouble meeting their gaze, while the Bratok merely snorted with scorn. “If you were hoping they would save us at the last moment… think again,” he grunted, before turning and stalking off. The other two shrugged in embarrassment, before following in his wake.

It was too much. After everything they’d been through, it was one straw too many.

“FUCK!” Rúna screamed.