Shi was more than slightly incensed, but he didn’t say anything for a moment as he considered the tablet in his hands.

“Yes,” he ground out finally. “Thank you.”

“Not at all, Mr. Ambassador. The least I could do,” Conner said, gesturing to the door. “Will your embassy be fine, or should I arrange a suborbital back to Bejing?”

“The embassy will be acceptable.”

“Excellent. I wasn’t certain we could guarantee your safe passage, though I would have provided all possible escorts if that were necessary,” Conner said, escorting Shi out of the office and down the hall. “I am sorry for how abrupt I’ve been, but it is a trying time.”

Shi nodded slowly. That he was willing to admit to. “Yes. Yes, it is that.”

“The admirals in charge of the Reagan and Clinton task groups have been advised that your superiors may be calling on them. I’ve made it very clear that they are to offer all possible cooperation,” Conner said as they reached the elevator. “So please, tell your superiors not to hesitate. Now is not the time to be proud. We can be proud when we’ve defeated our common enemy.”

Shi swallowed hard, but nodded slowly. “I will inform them.”

“Good.” Conner smiled, seeing him onto the elevator. “It was a pleasure as always, Mr. Ambassador. Have a safe drive back to the embassy.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

The doors closed. Conner turned around and headed for the war room.

“See that nothing happens to him between here and the embassy,” he told the AIC beside him.

“Yes sir.”

“Now, I believe that we have some real work to do.”

Shi was more than slightly bedeviled by the sheer abrupt nature of the meeting he’d just endured. Yes, endured was the right word for it. The President of the Confederacy had effectively just handed control of two of their largest and most lethal blue-water task groups over to the Block. It was a stunning development, but one that underscored just how serious the NAC was apparently taking the situation.

Though, he supposed, if anything would force this kind of reaction, it would be an alien invasion.

In fact, that was about the only scenario he could imagine that would trigger this sort of response from the Confederacy Administration. Anything less than the risk of total annihilation would be handled “in house” as it were.

He looked out at the city as the car drove back to the embassy building, noting how deserted the streets were. He’d seen news out of New York, and knew that they’d been caught more flatfooted there. Streets were backed up with vehicles, forcing the military to physically push their way through using battle tanks, of all ludicrous things.

Tanks had been obsolete for almost a century, yet he was well aware that the Confederacy maintained a massive store of the combat vehicles well beyond anything they could conceivably need. Mostly it was a welfare program for arms manufacturers, building vehicles that even the military didn’t have any idea what to do with, but he supposed it may just have paid off.