Fire with Fire

Chapter Forty-Two

ODYSSEUS

Caine looked over at Visser. “Ready?”

She didn’t look back. Nerves again, he thought. Then she nodded tightly. “Ja.” She clutched her palmtop and papers unnaturally close to her chest.

From just behind Caine, Thandla sounded as anxious as Visser looked. “Mr. Riordan, if you could clarify once again-”

Thandla’s question was drowned out by Le Mule Wasserman’s favorite, brayed interjection from the rear rank of the delegation: “Jesus Christ. Thandla, what’s with you? He handed out the procedural guidelines last night.”

Thandla turned toward Lemuel slowly. “I have been memorizing the communication and data protocols that the Dornaani insist we use. Some of the data handshakes are quite complex. Regrettably, this left me little time for memorizing the agenda itself. I hope you do not find that excessively distressing.”

Downing interceded before Wasserman could make whatever riposte he was readying. “Mr. Thandla, after introductions, the current members have an opportunity to question our bona fides as the legal representatives of our species. Then they are allowed to interrogate our government’s dossier, including the legitimacy of its claim to being the definitive source of power and decision-making for our species.”

“I thought the Custodians had already submitted a report on us to the rest of the Accord.”

“Yes, but the Custodians’ report is general, and other than what the other member states have learned from our own broadcast signals, that’s pretty much all they know about us. Protected species like us are entitled to the same informational privacy the members have, except in regard to Custodians.”

Caine heard a faint hiss emanating from the large iris valve before them. “I think we’re on,” he muttered into his collarcom to Opal.

“Okay,” she answered from the security monitoring console back in the module. “The Dornaani just sent a message informing me that we can’t send signals into or out of the Convocatorium. So good luck. I’ll be waiting by the phone when you come out.”

The iris valve opened-and Caine felt someone’s toe bump against his heel. He looked back. Elena, sheepish, green eyes looking up from under a front-fallen raven wing of hair: “Sorry. A little too eager to get in there, I guess. Or nervous. God, can’t they open the door any faster?”

Trevor, head visible despite being at the rear of the group, smiled. “Our grand entrance, El. Savor the moment.”

“You savor it. I just want to get it over with.”

You and me both, Elena. Out loud, Caine prompted Visser, “Ms. Ambassador, after you?”

Head and eyes fixed forward, Visser nodded and led them over the low lip of the valve as the plates scalloped away.

They entered a large, hexagonal amphitheatre. Instead of rows of seats, six raked expanses descended gently to meet in a hexagonal central plane. Centered on that flat hub was the Dornaani delegation, seated in a transparent hemispherical dome. Caine looked overhead at the canopy bounding their own chamber, then to those on either side: they were made of the same nearly-invisible substance. However, unlike the central dome, their own chamber and those of the member states were all in the shape of a teardrop or flower petal, tapered tail pointing back in toward the hub occupied by the Dornaani. One such petal was set into each of the other five slopes of the amphitheater.

Trevor stared around. “So this is where we make it or break it today.”

Downing ran an RF sensor around their gallery. “Technically, the membership decision is made on the second day. But, as you say, success tomorrow depends upon making a good impression today.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not be so eager to make nice that we give away the farm for free.” Wasserman sounded truculent.

Visser, who was running her fingers against the almost frictionless canopy, countered without bothering to turn toward him. “Mr. Wasserman, we are not here to drive a hard bargain. Indeed, I suspect we have little, if anything, to bargain with.” She walked to the narrow, down-sloping point of their flower petal and nodded toward the central dome. Looking up at her, Alnduul splayed his fingers in response.

Durniak pointed across the chamber at the gallery directly opposite their own. It was currently transparent and the shapes within it-akin to water heaters on wheels-were moving slowly from console to console.

“Bozhemoi.” Durniak usually spoke her mother’s language-Ukrainian-but she slipped into Russian when distracted. “What are they?”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Caine offered.

Hwang looked over the top of his reading glasses. “Whatever they are, I suspect they are the most physiologically alien exosapients we have encountered thus far. It’s possible they’re not even carbon-based.”

Elena turned toward Hwang. “Why do you say that?”

“Those massive cylinders. I’m guessing their atmosphere is either too corrosive or laced with lots of hydrogen, making regular seals and pressure-suit materials useless.”

“What if they’re just-well, like fish or water-snakes? They might like a big tank.” Trevor was adjusting his commo-set; apparently, he had not yet established connection with Opal.

Downing nodded. “Perhaps. Or perhaps there are limits to just how extreme an environment these galleries can support.”

“Well, we won’t find out by looking at the member races to our right.” Elena pointed her sharp chin in the direction of the two galleries that were located counter-clockwise from their position: both were opalescent, glowing from within-but opaque.

“The same with the member race just to our left,” Thandla observed, pointing.

Caine shook his head. “That chamber belongs to the other new candidates, Sanjay. Alnduul explained that while a candidate race is being questioned, the Custodians keep the canopy opaque: being watched might distract a newcomer, cause them to act or speak hastily when-”

“Welcome.” Alnduul’s voice seemed to emanate from all around them. Caine looked down: Alnduul had come to stand at that part of the central dome closest to their own gallery. “We are completing our inquiry of the other candidate race now. Are you prepared?”

Visser nodded at Caine-but her lips were a tight, sealed line. She can’t even say “yeah, hi, thanks for inviting us”? Aloud, Caine responded: “Yes, we are ready, Alnduul.”

“Very well. We shall soon interdict the transparency of your gallery. However, introductions first: directly across the Convocatorium is the Ktor delegation.”

“The water heaters,” grumbled Wasserman.

“Moving clockwise from them toward your gallery is the Slaasriithi delegation and then the Arat Kur delegation. To your immediate left are the Hkh’Rkh, who were heard first today.”

“Why?” Eight pairs of eyes turned to glare at Lemuel. Who stared back. “Hey; it’s a fair question.”

Alnduul’s answer disrupted the silent, growing consensus that Le Mule Wasserman was about thirty-three years overdue for a truly life-altering spanking. “Unfortunately, I cannot answer that question without disclosing data regarding the Hkh’Rkh. However, the clockwise order of the galleries reflects the order in which the member states have joined the Accord.” He paused. “You will note that your gallery precedes the Hkh’Rkh’s in the sequence.”

“But we are not yet a member state. Nor are they.”

“This is true, Ambassador. However, should you both become member states, the gallery order you see now is the order that will be retained. I will signal you again shortly.”

Trevor was the first to speak. “So we have seniority.”

Elena’s hair hung down, concealed her face from Caine. “But we don’t know why.”

“And we don’t know if that is good or bad.” Durniak rubbed her elfin chin.

The world around them faded to cream; the canopy was no longer transparent. A light flashed on the console in front of Thandla; he opened the link at a nod from Caine.

Near the gallery’s narrowest point-the tip of its teardrop-tail-a very convincing hologram of Alnduul appeared. Thandla leaned forward to study it; Wasserman leaned back, squinting at the image and glancing quickly at the walls.

“We will begin,” said the Alnduul hologram. “When Dr. Thandla opens a channel, you may see one of us from each gallery, and we may see and hear those of you who stand within the sending circle.” A faintly glowing ring-maybe big enough for two-appeared in the floor. “If you wish privacy, simply close the channel and reopen it when you are ready. To do so abruptly or unannounced will not be taken as rudeness. We understand that the need for confidential discussion will arise throughout this meeting. If you are ready, I will introduce the spokespersons of the other delegations.”

Caine realized that if he swallowed now, he would make a loud gulping sound. “We are ready.”

“May I present he whose name translates as Wise-Speech-of-Pseudopodia of the Ktor.” Another hologram-this of one of the water-heaters they had seen on the opposite side of the amphitheatre-snapped on. The voice was clearly a machine simulacrum: “The Ktor are honored to encounter the human species.”

“And we are honored to meet the Ktor.”

Alnduul resumed. “May I present Vishnaaswii’ah of the Slaasriithi.”

There was a pause and then a blinking green quatrefoil pulsed into existence to the right of Wise-Speech. Caine waited: no further image appeared. After several very long seconds, he started: “Alnduul-”

“My apologies, Caine Riordan. It seems that the Slaasriithi delegation has elected not to share their likeness with your species at this time.”

“It is their right,” added Wise-Speech mildly.

Caine heard various rustlings in the gallery behind him; people were standing, sitting up straighter, taking notes. “Is this expected, Alnduul?”

“It is not.”

“Are they receiving our signal?”

Another simulacrum voice answered, this one from the green quatrefoil: “We mean no slight by withholding our image. We would understand if you wish to do the same.”

“A little late for that now, isn’t it?” snapped Wasserman, quite loudly. Caine saw Downing turn to glare at him, but not quite so harshly as before: after all, “Le Mule” did, once again, have a point.

Vishnaaswii’ah’s voice was puzzled. “I did not hear your last utterance clearly, the Riordan-who-is-Caine.”

“One of my colleagues was commenting on the awkwardness of this situation. However, we will continue to make our image available to you.”

“This is a kindness-made greater, since we are currently unable to reciprocate. We shall not forget.”

Hmmm: an unpromising start to that introduction, but a rather reassuring finish.

Alnduul’s voice sounded very flat now. “And finally, may I present Darzhee Kut of the Arat Kur.”

Another pause; another quatrefoil-this one yellow-flicked on and pulsed next to the green one. More rustling from behind; Visser looked at Thandla, made a slicing motion with her hand. The connection broke. She turned to Caine. “A second race chooses not to share its image? What does this mean?”

He shrugged, looked over at Elena, who shrugged back. “Let’s find out.” He nodded to Thandla: the water heater, the quatrefoils and Alnduul reappeared. “Our apologies. We are somewhat surprised at our inability to view so many of the species we came to meet.” No response. “Darzhee Kut, can you hear me?” Still nothing. Then a third artificial voice whispered out of the yellow diamond: “I am Zirsoo Kh’n. Speaker-to-Nestless Kut is indisposed. We, too, decline to share our image.”

Caine felt Visser look at him, then back at Downing: there was no mistaking the tone. Curt, clipped, no-nonsense: not exactly hostile, but certainly not friendly. “We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Zirsoo Kh’n.”

“We are gratified to participate in this process.”

But nothing nice to say about us, huh? Caine looked over at Elena, whose eyebrows were lowered into a shallow vee: she shook her head slowly. Nothing to add yet, evidently. “Alnduul, we are ready to begin.”

Alnduul’s fingers flared momentarily like pinwheels. “Very well. The member states have received the personal bona fides of your delegation. They are now permitted to inquire into them.”

Silence. At least ten seconds of it. Caine was surprised at just how long ten seconds can be.

Alnduul prodded the other members again: “I remind the delegations that if they ask no questions, and make no challenges, the governing construance is that silence grants consent. Once accepted, the personal credentials of the human delegation is immune to subsequent interrogation or challenge.”

Five more seconds-even longer ones-went by.

“So noted. The human delegation’s personal bona fides are accepted without reservation or question. We may now proceed with the legitimation of the government they represent, which has been outlined in the dossiers you received yesterday. If there are questions-”

“Yes.” The voice came from the yellow quatrefoil. The Arat Kur. Of course. “We do not understand some of the claims of the human government, which is referred to as the Earth Confederation. Specifically, it claims to be the collective medium whereby the will of humankind is solicited, represented, and made manifest. Do you dispute this?”

“Not at all,” answered Caine. “If I remember correctly, you are quoting our own statement.”

“I am. However, we find this claim suspect, since it seems that some nations were pressured into joining this Confederation.”

“There were some fierce debates, yes. However, any exertions of political pressure were strictly in keeping with the normal principles of democratic process.”

“Nonetheless, in the end, the greater nations imposed their will upon a number of weaker-albeit quite populous-states.”

“Speaker Zirsoo, I would express that differently. No nation was compelled to join the Confederation. However, the great majority of nations-and through them, a majority of Earth’s population-did agree upon a set of requirements that had to be observed by any country that desired membership in one of the Confederation’s five blocs.” Caine paused. “Just as the Accord imposes requisites for membership upon its member states.”

“Touche.” Caine could hear the smile that accompanied Lemuel’s interjection. He also saw Alnduul’s holographic mouth half-twist about its axis.

“He’s trying not to laugh,” supplied Elena.

But the Arat Kur were not finished. “We have another question. You categorize the Confederation’s governmental structure as ‘modified bicameral.’ Please explain.”

“Well, bicameral means-”

“Two houses of representation, now common among many of your nations. This we understand. We are interested in how this has been ‘modified.’”

Caine looked at Visser-who was clearly nervous. Yeah, I think this is where they try to put us in the bag. “The first house of representation-called the ‘Forum’-is the one in which all nations have equal representation: it is a ‘one state, one vote’ system.

“The second house-called the ‘Assembly’-is the one in which national representation is proportional to a metric which balances population against productivity.”

“This is what we noted with interest. As we understand it, nations with lower per capita productivity suffer a reduction in their total votes.”

“That is correct.”

“In other words, their populations are deemed less worthy of equal representation. Which, as a simple matter of mathematics, means that their citizens have a proportionally smaller number of votes representing their interests. This makes them, in your language, ‘second class’ citizens.”

“I would not agree with that categorization.”

“Perhaps not. But the fact remains that their representation in the Confederation’s Assembly is not proportionate to their numbers.”

Visser was shaking her head. Caine raised a-hopefully-stilling palm. “That is true.”

“So the structure of the Confederation actually contradicts its claims to legitimacy: it does not provide equal and full representation.”

“With respect, Speaker-to-Nestless, that is not what the Confederation claims. You cited the key passage yourself just minutes ago: the Confederation is-” he checked the paper that Visser had pushed into his hand-“the means whereby the ‘will of humankind is solicited, represented, and made manifest.’ There is no promise made regarding precisely equal representation.”

“Your terms are misleading.”

“Our terms are precise in what they claim and in what they do not.” Visser made a motion to stand alongside Caine: he nodded.

She leaned inward. “Honored delegates, pardon my intrusion. I am Ambassador Visser. As one of those who helped craft our Confederation, allow me to assure you that the language was not intended to be misleading. We could not claim equal representation at the global level because we cannot ensure it at the national level. Many nations have different limitations upon voting: age, sex, cognitive competency, group affiliation. If the political voice of each state is therefore created by excluding and including different segments of their society, how could we claim that the Confederation offered uniformly equal representation? Our objective was to produce the most representative, and yet workable, government that we could, with minimal intrusions upon each nation’s sovereignty. I thank you.”

Alnduul cycled his lids once, slowly. “Thank you, Ambassador Visser.” They waited for a similarly polite response from the Arat Kur. After a second, Elena-eyes no longer rounded but oddly angular-shook her head: “Don’t wait; they’re not going to acknowledge her.”

When the Arat Kur resumed, the simulated voice was slower, more cautious. “We are curious: was there a world organization before your current Confederation?”

“Yes.”

“And what became of it?”

Caine looked around the gallery; there were frowns on the faces of Visser, Downing, Durniak, and Elena. They see where this could go. Visser shook a hand at Thandla: she waited until he had cut the connection. “I think we must decline to answer.”

Elena spoke before Caine could open his mouth. “Madame Ambassador, I do not think that is wise. They are clearly seeking to indict our credibility and integrity.”

“So we must not allow them to. We must convince them that we are worthy of their vote.”

“With respect, Ms. Visser, their vote no longer matters.”

“What?”

Caine nodded. “The Arat Kur have already decided against us. So our strategy must focus on how our actions make us look to the other member states.”

Visser narrowed her eyes, nodded, gestured toward Thandla.

Caine resumed. “Our apologies for the brief silence. The organization which preceded the World Confederation was called the United Nations. We are currently in the process of shifting most of its responsibilities and activities to the Confederation.”

“So the United Nations elected to willingly transfer its authority to the World Confederation?”

Damn. The Arat Kur had smelled the blood of human political discord and were on the scent-but how? Their questions were not just precise and penetrating-they were too precise, too penetrating, almost as if-

Visser had once again instructed Thandla to cut the connection. “This is over. We should never have agreed to respond to this line of questioning.”

Caine looked at where the Arat Kur’s blinking yellow quatrefoil had been. “No-we’re fine.”

“How can you say that? If we continue to answer their questions, they will soon be claiming that the United Nations was illegally sidestepped. They will thus decide that the World Confederation is illegitimate, and that Earth is too politically factious to be a member state.”

Caine shook his head. “No: the Arat Kur are already well past that point.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that we’ve been wrong about the Arat Kur. Their questions aren’t an attempt to acquire knowledge about us, or even to discover flaws or contradictions in our dossier.”

“Then why are they asking these questions?”

“Because they already know the answers and hope that when pressed, we’ll lie. Somehow, the Arat Kur already know about the uproar over how the Confederation usurped the power and prerogatives of the UN.”

“How could they know?”

Downing had moved toward the center of the gallery. “It’s impossible to know how they got the information. But we do know that it’s illegal for them to have it. And that’s a weapon we can use against them. We can expose them in front of the whole-”

“No.” Visser’s voice was unusually calm. Arms folded tightly, she was completely still, eyes closed.

“With all due respect, Ambassador, you said it yourself: we have to stop this line of questioning. I put it to you that this is the only way to really put an end to it. If we-”

“No. I am no longer concerned with ending this line of questioning.” She opened her eyes. “The Arat Kur have laid a deeper trap.”