Free Annihilation (Star Force Series) by B. V. Larson Page A

asked.
    “Your last transmission stated that you knew about the lowering sea levels, and the physics behind the rising temperatures.”
    “That was it?” I asked incredulously. “You were waiting to hear that we understood your problem?”
    “If you’d been unable to discern the nature of the emergency on your own, you certainly could not be capable of rendering significant aid.”
    I thought about it, and there was a certain twisted logic this. After all, their engineers were probably working on the problem desperately. If they hadn’t been able to stop the draining of the oceans, then it must be a difficult trick to pull off. Anyone capable of solving this problem probably would have quickly figured out what the problem was based on the data presented. They’d given us a couple of days in-system, then judged us morons when we didn’t seem to figure it out. The penalty for academic failure among the Crustaceans was a harsh one: death.
    “All right,” I said finally. “We’re here, and we’re at peace. Now let’s discuss the political state between our two species. Let’s agree to a peace treaty.”
    “Is that absolutely necessary?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I think it is. Before we agree to work with you, we have to be at peace. Can’t you see the logic of that? Or do I need to lower your scores yet again?”
    “You’re confusing your own cultural norms with logic, but the error is excusable in this case. We find this sort of confusion is common in alien species, and does not represent a lack of mental capacity.”
    By this time I was rubbing my temples and wondering what had possessed me to fly out here and help these people. It was going to be a long mission.
     Professor Hoon wasn’t done yet: “Another significant failure in your response is represented by the nature of your fleet: it is essentially made up of warships. These are not the best vehicles to render the aid we require.”
    “That’s because you didn’t tell us what kind of help you needed. We assumed you were under some kind of attack.”
    “We are, but we still feel the nature of the attack is, and always was, self-evident. Before you even launched your fleet, many on the committee had lowered your percentile chance of rendering significant aid to the single digits. I would point out that I did not go with the prevailing trend of my colleagues on this matter. I estimated, and still do, a fourteen percent chance you will manage to provide us some type of meaningful assistance.”
    “Well,” I said, “at least I’ve got that going for me.”
    “I request that you do not embarrass me by failing too grossly at the task.”
    “We wouldn’t want that, would we? By the way, where are you located personally? I mean, are you on Yale, or one of the other moons?”
    “What is the significance of using the term ‘Yale’ to describe our stricken world?”
    “It’s a famous university back home, on our homeworld.”
    “Indeed? Then it is a complimentary term, and I will adopt its use during our discussions. In response to your original query, yes, I’m on Yale.”
    I smiled slightly. We’d named their worlds after famous colleges back home precisely because the Crustaceans reminded me of snooty academics. I decided not to enlighten Hoon, as I doubted he would get the joke. If he thought it was a compliment, maybe that would help us all get along.
    As a secondary thought, I was impressed that this Lobster had the gonads to still be sitting on Yale. He’d pretty much ordered his own death by firing on us. That took a serious belief in oneself, not to mention a willingness to self-sacrifice, which was rare in my experience. Perhaps for the Crustaceans self-sacrifice wasn’t an unusual trait. I reminded myself that the “ambassador” that had flown out to my battle station months earlier had done so knowing she was going to die. She’d killed herself and my electronics in an EMP blast, arrogantly insulting me with her last