Here’s the rest of the previous snippet…

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Ten days later, General Randall slumped in the crew’s mess, rubbing a bulb of something cold over her forehead. Fargo grabbed a bulb of coffee, slipped into the seat across from her and asked, “Another meeting?”

She scowled at him. “Yes! Same shit, different day. The…ambassador still thinks he is in charge and is telling me how I must conduct the negotiations. And what I need to order you to do, since you are the junior member and not even a regular.” Shaking her head, she added, “And how you have refused to listen to them or take any briefs for, what was it, thirty-seven days! How could you!”

Fargo snorted. “Because their briefs are bullshit. They are why you and I are here. We will be the ones to make the decisions, not them.”

Sergeant Diederik walked up to the table. “Ma’am, are you going to go to the seventeen briefing?”

Nan bit her lip. “No, I don’t think so, Sergeant. I think I’m briefed out.” She smiled up at him. “And I know they hate the fact that the two of you are always with us. They think you are a security risk.”

“They what?” Diederik growled, “That pencil necked…” He came to attention. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“No problem, Sergeant. I know you have the highest clearances. Probably more than they do.”

Shan walked in and dumped a pile of tattletales on the table. “Today’s take, Ekavir. They have to run out sooner or later. I make it over a hundred of the damned things we have now.”

Diederik reached in his pocket and pulled out a bit of cloth, then spilled a half dozen crushed tattletales on the tabletop. “Jess and I deloused ourselves; this is from yesterday and today. Ever since we took positions directly behind the general, she hasn’t gotten anymore.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” she said with a smile. Turning to Fargo she went on, “I still have them delouse me after every meeting, as soon as we get on this deck. Speaking of louses, do you by chance have a copy of exactly what the Dragoons wanted?”

Fargo grinned. “Yes, I do. Would you like to discuss what we can give them and what we’ll require?”

“Can you give me a chip?”

“I’ll be right back.” Less than five segs later, Fargo walked back into the mess and handed her a data chip. “Here you are. When would you like to discuss this, Nan?”

She looked up at the corner of the bulkheads. “How about tomorrow…morning? On the…bridge?”

“Done and done.”

She smiled. “Thank you!” She inhaled and said, “And I want some of whatever just came out of the autochef! That smells wonderful!”

Fargo looked around and saw Shan scooping something into his mouth. “Shan, what are you eating?”

Shan held up a finger, finished chewing and swallowing, and said, “Gorkhali lamb and thukpa. And I’m drinking Tongba!”

Fargo laughed. “Not the booze. The general likes the smell of either the lamb or thukpa.”

Shan said cautiously, “Ekavir, the lamb is a curry. It’s…not how you say, mild. The thukpa is a soup and cools the heat of the curry.”

Daman chimed in, “Shan, cut the spices in half at least! You damned near like it hotter than I do!”

Nan Randall snorted. “Shan, I like hot, but I like to be able to taste the food. Would you show me how to get that out of the autochef? I don’t think that is a standard meal.”

Shan got up. “More than happy to, General.” He went off into a long discussion about slow cooking, adding onions, potatoes, and grilling the lamb, then how to season it, as he punched in a variety of number combinations to the autochef. After the last set, he added, “And the thukpa is a noodle soup you use to cut the burn.”

Dieterik and Alesander both looked on with interest, then Dieterik sighed, and said, “Hell, I’ll try it too, Shan. Jess, are you in?”

“Sure, why not. It can’t be any worse than the E-bars.”

Yash shook his head. “You poor fools.”

Shan handed one serving to the general, one to Dieterik, and one to Alesander. “Enjoy our traditional foods!” He smiled as he sat at a different table, leaning back in his chair.

Nan took a bite, and her smile lit the room. “Oh! This is so good! Why have I never had this?”

Yash laughed. “General, not many of us would dare offer you a meal. That is not our place.”

She smiled. “I often wondered. I know in the Corps, things were different. I guess I didn’t realize how different it was. But this is good!”

Alesander, sweat pouring down his face, looked at Dieterik. “Dammit, Morgan, why do I listen to you? I know better.” He glanced at Shan. “Nothing against your food, but damn, it’s hot!”

Dieterik, a bit red in the face, laughed. “Jess, you gotta admit it’s good!”

“I know but—”

Horse stomped into the mess. “Deity damned…” He hooked a thumb at the passageway. “Those…people are demanding to know where the general is, and why she is not at their briefing.”

Fargo looked over. “General, you want me to take care of—”

She held up her hand. “No, I think this is on me. I’ll be right back.” She started to get up, but sat back down. “As soon as I finish this,” she said with a smile.

***

Evie lounged in the pilot’s couch as Fargo and Nan Randall sat at the nav table with bulbs of coffee. “I can’t believe this is all they want,” she said.

Fargo shrugged. “They want a ten light minute standoff on both sides, which is about four AU, or just over two hundred million miles. If you figure the usual in system speeds at point three C, that’s about a div of travel.”

Nan growled. “Those asshats say we should stand fast on a one light hour standoff for them, and we don’t have any standoff from the DMZ. That…”

Fargo chuckled. “Will never fly.” He looked up at the overhead and said, “I’d be happy with a mutual thirty light minute standoff either side. We don’t have any systems that are inside that standoff, but I don’t know about the Goons.”

Evie said softly, “Neither do the Dragoons as far as we know.”

“Thank you, Evie.” Nan glanced at Fargo. “I’m good with that. And they already have free passage with DipIm for moving their ambassadors around, so no issues there, or at least none that I see.”

“Well, they do tend to move them on various passenger lines. I wonder if selected ships might be better?”

Blowing out a breath, she replied, “No! We have enough problems with Traders now. I cannot imagine giving a DipIm clearance to a Trader ship! That…no, just no.”

Fargo cocked his head. “What about a warship, crewed by Goons? That way they would have some protection for the people.”

“Oh deity no! That…”

Fargo said, “Bear with me, Nan. Did you ever get the report on the Goon’s issues in GalPat space?” She shook her head and he continued, “From what was reconstructed, a Trader or pirate attacked at least one Star liner. And some of the others…were questionable as to what happened.”

She cocked her head. “How did you end up with a DipIm to take the Dragoon back? I…still don’t understand how that went down.”

He reached for her hand. “May I?” She bit her lip, but nodded. “Let me tell you the rest of the story at least to this point. Five years ago…” He proceeded to show her his memories of the rescue of Ton’Skel, the two Star Lines people, and the young girl, Cedar. Nan’s expressions were interesting to watch as Fargo basically admitted to keeping all the information from GalPat, but her anger also came through at what had been done to Ton’Skel and others. “And NasTess can tell you about what happened to Ton’Skel’s uncle when he was taken.”

“So what this really was…or is, is infighting amongst the Dragoon’s leadership? Do they not value family?”

“The way I see it, family is the pawns they throw on the board.”

“But they have so few…children, how can they…”  She shook her head and pulled her hand away. “I need some time to think about what you just told me, Ethan. But thank you for telling me. I’m guessing nobody at GalPat knows any of this.”

Fargo shrugged. “No idea. But I’d be surprised if ImpSec doesn’t have some ideas.” He chuckled. “By the way, what did you tell the ambassador yesterday?”

She laughed. “I told him I needed time to absorb the truth about the negotiations, and there was no need of further repetition of the same words. His mouth dropped open and I turned around and walked away.”

Fargo’s smile showed a lot of teeth. “Well, I have to admit you were more diplomatic than I was. I guess we need to go over the rest of the negotiating points.”

“True. But I need more coffee.”

Two days later, the Hyderabad dropped out of hyper in the F seven system that contained Gollah. Jace leaned back in the captain’s couch and keyed the PA. “Well, we’re here. It will take a couple of divs for our arrival to hit the planet, but once it does, I expect we’ll get further directions at that time. Crew and pax are released from restraints. We’ve got eighteen divs to Gollah.” Releasing the mic, he turned to Fargo. “I wonder where we’re going to have the meeting this time?”

“Not a clue. But we know this isn’t their home system, it’s…a meeting planet, if that’s the word I’m looking for. Ton’Skel said all one thousand families have…homes here for their big meetings.”

Nan Randall looked over from the navigator’s table. “You were here before, correct?”

Fargo nodded. “This is where we brought Ton’Skel and met his father, Ton’Mose.”

Randall sighed. “I guess we need to go tell the ambassador what’s going on.” She smiled at Fargo. “Unless you want to do that.”

“Oh, hell no. You are senior, General. That falls on you and your bodyguards. If I went down there, Horse or one of the others would just start shooting them.”

“Fine! You think Morgan and Jess aren’t ready to do the same thing?”

Fargo smiled. “I know they are, but at least they’ll listen to you. Smiling Ghorka mean you’ve lost control, and have you noticed how many of them are smiling lately?”

“You win. As soon as they get up here, I’ll go be the bad guy,” she said with a laugh.

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