“It’s a vessel that floats on water,” replied Fludenoc. “Very large bodies of water, such as don’t exist on our planet.”

Oltomar stared at the screen. “Water?” he demanded. “What water? We’re still in the outer fringes of this solar system!”

A hum from the communication console announced an incoming message.

“I think we’re about to find out,” said the Pilot. She shuffled toward the console. “Let’s hope they speak some language the computer can translate.”

Fludenoc was suddenly filled with confidence. That was the strangest-looking spacecraft he had ever seen. But, then again, he had thought the Romans were the strangest-looking soldiers he had ever seen, too.

“The computer will be able to translate,” he predicted. “Latin has been programmed into it for over two thousand years.”

He was not wrong. The Latin phrases which the computer received were spoken in a very odd accent, it was true. Quite unlike the original input. But the phrases were simple enough:

“Unknown spacecraft: you are ordered to hold position. Any movement toward the inner planets will be construed as a hostile act.”

“There are more of those-boats-coming,” said Uddumac. “Lots of them. Very big boats.”

“We repeat-hold your position. We are sending a boarding party. Any resistance will be construed as a hostile act.”

Fludenoc instructed the Pilot: “Send a message indicating that the boarding party will be allowed ingress without obstruction. And tell them we seek a parley.”

“These are Romans?” queried Oltomar. His tone wavered pure confusion.

“Pilot,” said Fludenoc. “Ask them to identify themselves as well.”

The reply came quickly:

“This is Craig Trumbull speaking. I am the Commodore of this fleet and the Captain commanding this vessel. The CSS Scipio Africanus.”

V

I feel like an idiot,” muttered Commodore Trumbull. His eyes, fixed on the huge viewscreen, shifted back and forth from the sleek, gleaming Guild vessel to the nearest of the newly arrived ships of his flotilla.