* * *
Groombridge-2 was waiting. It’s already been half the 48 hours that the humans have given. The cautious suggestion of the Head of Civil Administration to take advantage of the opportunity to evacuate at least civilians was met with complete misunderstanding by the Surveillants. Negotiations and any agreements with the enemy have been strongly discouraged before, and now, in the light of the new instructions of the Masters, they were subject to the strictest prohibition and the penalty of death.
The Head of planetary control, Fetz, hasn’t slept in over 24 hours. He was informed of all incidents involving attempts by servicemen and civilians to violate the will of the Masters on Groombridge-2. Much to Fetz’s regret, not all deviant behavior of the quargs could be prohibited by the mental block, and the Surveillants were carrying out the voluminous, difficult but desperately needed work of controlling the loyalty of the population and the army.
An emergency call alert made the Head of Surveillants to turn to the communications device.
“Chief, our scanners have registered a high-orbit combat,” reported the planetary defense commander.
“Has the fleet come to our aid?” There was hope in Fetz’s voice.
“Alas, Chief, it is not so. The battle was local and has already ended, although it is not entirely clear what it was. The enemy fleet has largely retreated to the outer limits of the system, but the light forces continue to patrol the central areas and the circumplanetary area. Two enemy destroyers must have spotted a ship attempting to approach the planet and attacked it. The operators of scanners observed explosions of missile warheads and cannon salvos. The human ships were allegedly damaged and retreated. We have not been able to detect the ship they attacked, nor any sign of its destruction. Maybe it was a reconnaissance ship with a next-generation camouflage equipment. If so, it could have gone into the atmosphere, and the humans did not risk chasing it for fear of a volley of anti-orbital missile batteries.”
“If these are our scouts, they will soon show up,” suggested Fetz.
“What if it’s staged and the enemy has infiltrated the planet?” The commander of the planetary defense was in doubt.
“That would make no sense to the humans. Why would the enemy draw attention to their own reconnaissance ship entering the atmosphere?” objected Fetz, “We just have to wait. Just to be on the safe side, bring ground forces in the area of a potential breakout into a state of heightened readiness for sabotage attacks. I don’t think it makes much sense, but let it be.”
“Yes, Chief.”
The new emergency call came in 30 minutes. This time, it was a scanner post reporting directly to the Surveillants.
“Chief Fetz,” the commander of the post reported in a disturbed voice, “Scanners have picked up a target outside the planetary defense force. It’s a small aerospace recon ship of the Masters. It’s moving towards the capital. You’ll have it in 15 minutes.”
Now for the Head of planetary control, everything was in place. If the Masters’ reconnaissance ship has broken the blockade, it is understandable that the humans could not shoot it down. The odd thing is why they even managed to detect it, but maybe the Masters, for some reason, decided to identify themselves with the adversary, who knows?
“Provide the recon ship with a safe passage! Pick up fighters for escort, but don’t get too close, the Masters don’t like it.”
* * *
“What did you promise him, Fleet Admiral, Sir?” asked General Clay, who approached me quietly. He closely observed on the tactical projection, how Yoon Gao’s reconnaissance ship exchanged shots of training and simulation munitions with our two destroyers in high orbits of Groombridge-2.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, General, Sir,” I smiled at my former immediate superior, and now a representative of the Allied Empire, “comfortable conditions of captivity until the end of the war and a high post in the occupation administration after our victory, and this post will be higher, the more useful he will be to us now.”
“And how did you convince him that your victory is achievable? You didn’t tell him you were in contact with the Empire before you sent him behind enemy lines.”
“No, of course not, but your camouflage fields, which I gave away as our design, made the required impression on the toad. He already knew we had a hyperportal, and yet another technology that surpassed our overall scientific and technological level did not surprise him, but it led him to believe that our chances of victory were real.”
“Aren’t you afraid that once the toad is in the enemy’s position, he’ll immediately forget all your arrangements?”
“Anything is possible, but I think he still values his life above everything else. The simple technical device attached to his body will protect us from his reckless actions. I think he’s making a good assessment of his chances of surviving an explosion of 300 grams of OKFOL. ”
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