Dreadnought (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 2) by B. V. Larson

easy.
    “Listen, Connatic. If we wanted to destroy you we would be doing it, not talking. I’m here to communicate with you and other splintered colonies like yours. Earth is back. We’re rebuilding our network to our orphaned colonies. We intend to engage in trade and peaceful coexistence with anyone who will allow it.”
    There was a moment of silence, and when the Connatic came back on the line, his voice had changed. It now held a calculating note.
    “I see. Rebuilding the Empire set asunder so long ago. All becomes clear. It’s like a slice of sky free of gases and dust. You’re here to ask us to yoke ourselves like idiot oxen.”
    Unable to help myself, I sighed loudly. “I suggest we stand down our weapons. We will close our gun-ports if you close yours. Withdraw your fighters, and we’ll park ourselves in orbit around your station. Then, I’ll come aboard with a few of my officers to meet you in person.”
    “Invasion?” demanded the voice incredulously. “Does it think we’d be so foolish as to allow ourselves to be boarded without firing a shot?”
    The conversation went on in this vein for the next twenty minutes. In time, I managed to hammer out a plan of behaviors. They were paranoid in the extreme and would only agree to single steps at a time.
    The first thing both sides did was sheathe our bared weapons. Our gun-ports, missile batteries and pellet-blasters were all closed and shunted into the guts of our respective vessels.
    By the time we slowed and began to circle the station, the Connatic was in a more forgiving mood. Perhaps he was starting to trust me, just a little.
    A full hour after the conversation began, I found myself marching down the central passage to my quarters. There, I donned a dress uniform, my smart-pistol and power saber. I tested the clasp at my neck, and momentarily my cloak blossomed into a personal shield.
    A hundred strides later I found myself on the pinnace deck. Defiant’s original design didn’t have such a deck, but we’d altered one of the holds to allow small spacecraft to enter and exit. The ship now functioned more like a traditional Earth warship.
    There, at the pinnace door, I met up with an unpleasant surprise. I could see through the hatchway, and there was no mistaking the distinctive form of Ambassador Grantholm.
    “Are you flying this thing yourself, William?” she asked.
    “No, madam. Zye here will serve as my pilot—”
    Zye pressed past me and took her seat. She studiously ignored both of us. I was sure she was aware of our ongoing strife, but it didn’t seem to interest her much.
    “Well?” Grantholm called. “Climb aboard, Sparhawk. We don’t have much time to waste. I let you prattle on and on with that Connatic fellow for nearly an hour. Imagine my trepidation and horror at every word. You almost started a war on three separate occasions, are you aware of that?”
    “Madam,” I said sternly, “the situation is volatile and may turn hostile again at any moment. No treaty exists between these people and Earth. They might intend to skewer us all the moment we arrive. Accordingly, I must ask that you stay here aboard Defiant until I declare the situation safe for civilians.”
    She cocked her head quizzically to one side and regarded me with narrowed eyes. “You’ll not weasel out that way. The situation has progressed. You did an excellent job of gaining their trust after terrifying them. Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you to intimidate a lesser power like that. I stand happily corrected.”
    “Madam, I can’t allow you to endanger yourself—” I began again, but she lifted her hand to stop me.
    “Just give it up, Sparhawk. I know you too well. You’re a man of truth and honor. Most importantly, you follow orders.”
    She snapped out the computer scroll again. This made me wince. She had a strong point.
    “You’ve read this document,” she said. “You know the truth. There’s no room for odd interpretations,