My transmission to Col Stuart was as masterwork of deception even for me; of course I’ve made a life of outwitting fools in uniform, now the trap is set again.
I glanced at what was left of Ambassador Trent Dickenson, the Rogon Master on this ship had not eaten for weeks that I knew of but…he was more than making up for it now, tearing the flesh off the pompous ass… ha ha, literally. I had hoped to put Dickenson in his place myself, but this was just as well. The fool had almost ruined our chance to lure the rebels to their deaths, but I’ve given Stuart a taste of what he must have been dreaming about all these years…a chance to get back at the man who had eliminated his beloved “commando corps” and driven him into retirement, proving again the immortal truth… the pen really is mightier than the sword.
The Rogon interrupted his feast just long enough to demand a report “ssspeak ssslave” the Rogons were not what you would describe as talkative. This one could remain motionless for days, faceted eyes, never blinking; you could almost imagine it was dead except for the tiny movement of the small antenna behind its ears. The Rogons must be an ancient race; they look like something from Earth’s pre-historic past. The skin was made up of tiny scales, mostly brown, but with just a hint of orange streaks ( in some members of the Rogon race the orange coloration was quite prominent) The body was smooth from the head to the tail bulging out to about a meter in diameter at it’s widest, The torso was protected by armor plates that did not seem to interlock and Redmond had come to realize that there were air pockets between the armor and the body itself that the Rogons could would carry objects in, weapons and tools. The four legs were more like tentacles, apparently made of many bones, strong but flexible. Claw/feet were useful for manipulation but you wouldn’t want to be kicked by one. The four arms were smaller but equally flexible, not needing to walk on the claw/hands; they were much softer and quite capable of using tools.
“Great Master, It is as I surmised, the enemy forces are led by Col. Andrew Stuart, a man I have know long and well. He relies on his muscles more than his mind and is certain to attack without thinking. He will leap right into our open jaws”
The Rogon made no reply but continued devouring what remained of the hapless Dickenson. I took that as approval of my report and walked across the cabin to the intercom “Captain St. James prepare for an attack” St. James reply was typical of the ego inflated pretentiousness so common among navel officers ” That’s Commodore St James Mr. Redmond , and I’ve monitored your transmission” a slight pause “yours and Dickenson’s. If the rebels fall into the trap, now I will be amazed”
That was just like St. James, always wanting to second guess his political masters, not that he’d be willing to back talk to one of the Rogon’s, no, they were all afraid of the Rogons. “Listen St. James, I know this man, he’s like a dog on a bone. You may not want a fight, but Stuart will attack, and you had better be ready” For all their posturing the military mind was always preoccupied with death and full of fear. Of all the humans in this fleet, only I the master diplomat could face the Rogons as a man.
Of course I’m right Stuart will think our shields are weak, but our Rogon shields will stop whatever puny weapons you have, and soon, very soon I will get to see my Master, Shintok; maylock-A sink his fangs into you.