LXXXV ... in a Velvet Glove
It is safer to be feared than loved.
- NICCOLO' MACCHIAVELLI
"Do you like fireworks?"
The aide tilted his head as he had not heard the Bashar's question.
"It saddens me to inform you that it would be ritually impure for ambassador Hux to receive you at this time of the day, Commissioner Hilom," said the aide to the other adult in the room. He wore an unimpressive black leather suit whose draped sleeves touched the very edge of the table, maybe to conceal a knife in his hand.
"Are you his womb brother, or a zombie?" continued Miles Teg, sitting on the other side.
The man flinched. "Neither, sir. I am a Sensate of the third rank."
"Our lieutenant Wailea tells me that Sensates can listen, feel, memorize, and take orders. Here is the message then," the Bashar said as he slammed a small cylinder on the table.
"I will take that to the ambassador," said the aide who bowed, but did not move.
"It won't bite. Open it now, make sure it's no child's scribbling".
The aide's long arm reached forward as his sleeve reached even farther, and he grasped the brass cylinder and unscrewed it to take out a piece of wrapped paper that he unrolled into two separate sheets. The first looked like a typed message while the second was a curious drawing showing a constellation of pulsating lights mapped against a 3D projection whose center was a sphere. A timestamp blinked in a faint green, as the sheet was clearly much more than cellulose.
The aide smelled the paper, and looked at it from both sides, unsure. Finally he looked up.
"Smells of acrylic and chalk. Is this art?"
"Most definitely not."
The aide paused. "I will relay the message in the first sheet, but what am I to do with this?"
"Do what you want. It's an interactive map," the Bashar replied. "It shows the location of all the Tailaron no-ships in orbit around Delphyne. And it is connected to our surveillance systems. For simplicity, I am only updating it daily for now."
"No-ships? That's not how no-ships work." Still, the aide turned to ice as he poured over it.
"Do you mean, no-ships don't move daily? Of course not. You don't believe me? Feel free to give it to your commander and verify the location of every vessel. If you please. And when you have done so..." Teg looked at the other sheet the aide was holding in his hands.
"... I... shall convey the message?"
"It is not a message, but the terms of our ceasefire, to be finalized at a formal dinner tomorrow night. Unless the ambassador wants me to provide the Cordians with a similar, but more frequently updated, version of the map, to use at their discretion," the Commissioner intervened.
The aide lifted his chin, half embarrassed and half offended.
"Is this a threat?" he asked, looking across the table at the ten year-old boy.
"It is not a threat," Teg chimed in "Merely a fact."
"What kind of child-monster are you?"
"The type who likes advanced toys. But the toy the Cordians are about to receive if you don't comply, it will be irresistible for them to play with. They are going to make fireworks out of your ships. And tell the ambassador he will never get a hold of our tanks. Or was it Sheeana he wanted to enslave as a concubine? I am still confused. At any rate, please offer him my most sincere congratulations in joining the grownups' game. I hope he is ready."
Following in stride as Teg marched fast toward the exit, Commissioner Hilom whistled: "I will look forward to those fireworks!"
The aide was still standing there, unable to move.