Against all expectations, the signing of the peace protocols with the Ski went well. Their armada, though still clearly superior to the human forces, parted to make room for our ambassador. Their head admiral was waiting, dapper in his dress whites. His officers smirked from two lines to either side.
"Don't show fear," the Old Man growled. We'd just passed through parsec after parsec of the Ski forces. One tenth of what we'd seen would crush the human forces forever.
And yet they were suing for peace.
"The battle of Sedna," their admiral said. "Brilliant. The pincer movement between Uranus and Pluto? Beyond textbook. The guerrilla movements on Luna? Simply more than anyone could expect. You won fair and square."
The Old Man looked left, looked right. There were weapons in this row that could turn planet Earth to dust. He asked the question none of the rest of us dared:
(to be concluded in two days)