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Authors: John Scalzi
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shit,’” Schmidt said, from the instrument panel.
“Hart, you need to get Abumwe and Coloma on the line, right now,” Wilson said.
“The ambassador’s in her preparatory briefings right now,” Schmidt said. “She’s not going to want to be interrupted.”
“She’s going to be a lot more upset with you if you don’t interrupt her,” Wilson said. “Trust me on this.”
* * *
“The Polk was attacked by what?” Abumwe said. She and Coloma were tied into a conference video, Coloma from her ready room and Abumwe from a spare conference room Schmidt had almost had to drag her into.
“By at least fifteen Melierax Series Seven ship-to-ship missiles,” Wilson said, talking into the pilot instrument panel and the small camera there. “It could have been more, because data started getting sketchy after enough systems failed. But it was at least fifteen.”
“Why does it matter what type of missiles destroyed the Polk ?” Abumwe asked, irritated.
Wilson glanced over to the image of Captain Coloma, who looked ashen. She got it, at least. “Because, Ambassador, Melierax Series Seven ship-to-ship missiles are made by the Colonial Union,” Wilson said. “The Polk was attacked with our own missiles.”
“That’s not possible,” Abumwe said, after a moment.
“The data says otherwise,” Wilson said, choosing not to go on a rant about the stupidity of the phrase “that’s not possible,” because it would likely be counterproductive at this point.
“The data could be incorrect,” Abumwe said.
“With respect, Ambassador, the CDF has gotten very good at figuring out what things are being shot at them,” Wilson said. “If the Polk confirmed the missiles as being Melierax type, it’s because it was able to identify them across several confirming points, including shape, size, scan profile, thrust signature and so on. The likelihood of them not being Melierax Series Seven is small.”
“What do we know about the ship?” Coloma said. “The one that fired on the Polk .”
“Not a lot,” Wilson said. “It didn’t identify itself, and other than a basic scan the Polk didn’t spend any time on it. It was roughly the same size as the Polk itself, we can see that from its survey signature. Other than that, there’s not much to go on.”
“Did the Polk fire back on the ship?” Coloma asked.
“It got off at least four missiles,” Wilson said. “Also Melierax Series Seven. There’s no data on whether they hit their target.”
“I don’t understand,” Abumwe said. “Why would we attack and destroy one of our own ships?”
“We don’t know if it was one of our own ships,” Coloma said. “Just that it was our own missiles.”
“That’s right,” Wilson said, and raised his finger to rebut.
“It’s possible that we sold the missiles to another race,” Coloma said. “Who then attacked us.”
“It’s possible, but there are two things to consider here,” Wilson said. “The first is that most of our weapon trades are for higher-end technology. Any one race who can make a spaceship can make a missile. The Melierax Series are bread-and-butter missiles. Every other race has missiles just like it. The second is that these are ostensibly secret negotiations. In order to hit us, someone had to know we were here.” Coloma opened her mouth. “And to anticipate the next question, we haven’t sold any Melierax missiles to the Utche,” Wilson said. Coloma closed her mouth and stared stonily.
“So we have a mystery ship targeting the Colonial Union with our own missiles,” Abumwe said.
“Yes,” Wilson said.
“Then where are they now?” Abumwe said. “Why aren’t we under attack?”
“They didn’t know we were coming,” Wilson said. “We were diverted to this mission at the last minute. It would usually take the Colonial Union several days at least to have a new mission in place. By which time these particular negotiations would have failed, because we weren’t
“Hart, you need to get Abumwe and Coloma on the line, right now,” Wilson said.
“The ambassador’s in her preparatory briefings right now,” Schmidt said. “She’s not going to want to be interrupted.”
“She’s going to be a lot more upset with you if you don’t interrupt her,” Wilson said. “Trust me on this.”
* * *
“The Polk was attacked by what?” Abumwe said. She and Coloma were tied into a conference video, Coloma from her ready room and Abumwe from a spare conference room Schmidt had almost had to drag her into.
“By at least fifteen Melierax Series Seven ship-to-ship missiles,” Wilson said, talking into the pilot instrument panel and the small camera there. “It could have been more, because data started getting sketchy after enough systems failed. But it was at least fifteen.”
“Why does it matter what type of missiles destroyed the Polk ?” Abumwe asked, irritated.
Wilson glanced over to the image of Captain Coloma, who looked ashen. She got it, at least. “Because, Ambassador, Melierax Series Seven ship-to-ship missiles are made by the Colonial Union,” Wilson said. “The Polk was attacked with our own missiles.”
“That’s not possible,” Abumwe said, after a moment.
“The data says otherwise,” Wilson said, choosing not to go on a rant about the stupidity of the phrase “that’s not possible,” because it would likely be counterproductive at this point.
“The data could be incorrect,” Abumwe said.
“With respect, Ambassador, the CDF has gotten very good at figuring out what things are being shot at them,” Wilson said. “If the Polk confirmed the missiles as being Melierax type, it’s because it was able to identify them across several confirming points, including shape, size, scan profile, thrust signature and so on. The likelihood of them not being Melierax Series Seven is small.”
“What do we know about the ship?” Coloma said. “The one that fired on the Polk .”
“Not a lot,” Wilson said. “It didn’t identify itself, and other than a basic scan the Polk didn’t spend any time on it. It was roughly the same size as the Polk itself, we can see that from its survey signature. Other than that, there’s not much to go on.”
“Did the Polk fire back on the ship?” Coloma asked.
“It got off at least four missiles,” Wilson said. “Also Melierax Series Seven. There’s no data on whether they hit their target.”
“I don’t understand,” Abumwe said. “Why would we attack and destroy one of our own ships?”
“We don’t know if it was one of our own ships,” Coloma said. “Just that it was our own missiles.”
“That’s right,” Wilson said, and raised his finger to rebut.
“It’s possible that we sold the missiles to another race,” Coloma said. “Who then attacked us.”
“It’s possible, but there are two things to consider here,” Wilson said. “The first is that most of our weapon trades are for higher-end technology. Any one race who can make a spaceship can make a missile. The Melierax Series are bread-and-butter missiles. Every other race has missiles just like it. The second is that these are ostensibly secret negotiations. In order to hit us, someone had to know we were here.” Coloma opened her mouth. “And to anticipate the next question, we haven’t sold any Melierax missiles to the Utche,” Wilson said. Coloma closed her mouth and stared stonily.
“So we have a mystery ship targeting the Colonial Union with our own missiles,” Abumwe said.
“Yes,” Wilson said.
“Then where are they now?” Abumwe said. “Why aren’t we under attack?”
“They didn’t know we were coming,” Wilson said. “We were diverted to this mission at the last minute. It would usually take the Colonial Union several days at least to have a new mission in place. By which time these particular negotiations would have failed, because we weren’t
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