"They did," said his uncle. "They're yonder. They're heading straight for this fleet."
He pointed, not out a port but at a screen where a boiling mass of bright specks showed the Mekinese fleet just out of overdrive and speeding toward the dummy formation, sorting itself into attack formation as it moved.
"The king's not here on time," observed Bors grimly. "We have to play his hand for him, Uncle. We haven't the right to commit Kandar by beginning to fight ourselves. Offer surrender, as he'd wish it to be done. If they accept, he can carry out his part when he arrives. He'll be here!"
The former monarch spoke gently into a beam transmitter.
"Calling Mekinese fleet," he said. "Defending fleet calling Mekinese fleet!"
In seconds a reply came back.
"Mekinese Grand Admiral calling Kandar," the voice answered arrogantly. "What do you want?"
"We will discuss capitulation on behalf of Kandar," said the old man. "Will you give us terms?"
He grimaced, and said, aside, to Bors, "I'm speaking for Humphrey as I know he'd speak. But I am ashamed!"
There was a pause. It took time for the Pretender's voice to reach the enemy and as long for the reply to come back. The reply was ironic and arrogant and amused.