Fire with Fire

Chapter Forty-Three

ODYSSEUS

Downing blinked. “A deeper trap?”

Visser nodded. “They know we will realize that their questions arise from illegally acquired knowledge.”

“And that is precisely why we must expose them.”

“Mr. Downing, they want us to expose them.”

Durniak forgot her composure and her English in the same instant: “Shto?”

Visser shrugged. “It is the only reasonable conclusion. They knew we would figure this out. And they must logically presume that we will then expose their violations. But if they foresee this course of events, then it follows that they must welcome it.”

“But why? What could they achieve?”

Elena’s response to Durniak was slow but certain. “Discord.”

Visser was nodding again. “Ja. Discord. This Accord is not so stable, I think.”

Caine found himself nodding, too. “During our first contact, Alnduul mentioned the possibility of ‘specious’ actions by other member states. And then there was his reaction to our question about what would happen if we declined membership: his gills snapped shut with a sound like a popgun going off.”

Downing chimed in. “And then there’s the anxiety over us blundering into someone else’s ‘pathway of expansion.’ That should merely be awkward, not a crisis.”

Visser furnished the deductive capstone. “If the Accord was politically coherent, then this entire candidacy process would simply have been a pro forma exercise. No: the Arat Kur’s line of questioning is an attempt to use us to widen the rifts already present in the organization.”

“And to put our candidacy in the trashcan.” Elena was looking directly at Caine as she said it.

Caine forced himself not to be distracted by her eyes and pressed on. “What we really need are answers about why the Arat Kur are trying to spoil the party.”

Lemuel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure-but what the hell do we do about the Arat Kur? If we let them keep asking questions, they uncover Earth’s dirty laundry for everyone else to see. And if we tell them we’re on to them, they call us liars and everyone goes home angry. Or, we can simply lie about the UN. Then they’ll expose our lies, we’ll expose theirs-and we all go to hell together, anyway. So with choices like those-hey, Riordan; what’re you doing?”

Caine had moved to the very end of the gallery, the tip of the teardrop’s sharp tail. He touched the canopy. “Dr. Thandla, the Dornaani gave us the opacity for privacy. Do we have an override?”

“Er…yes, we do.”

“Please restore the transparency.”

“Wha-?” Visser gasped. Wasserman brayed a counterorder, but it was too late: the opalescent curve above them faded away.

Caine looked down at the Dornaani delegation. They were all-all-facing toward the human gallery. Eyes unblinking. Caine nodded at Alnduul, who made no movement in return.

Visser cleared her throat behind him. “Mr. Riordan-Caine-”

Caine felt all the Dornaani eyes looking directly at him, kept looking back at them as he spoke: “Here’s what we do: we tell the Arat Kur-and the Accord-the truth. Everything. We deny them nothing. Give them every sordid detail they want to pursue.”

“And when it becomes obvious that the Arat Kur have illegal advance knowledge?”

“We let someone else point it out. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Why?”

“Because the Dornaani already know what’s going on.”

“What? How-?”

“They monitor us-legally. So they know about recent events on Earth, too: how else did they know about Nolan? So they already know that the Arat Kur have illegal access to information. But the Dornaani aren’t pointing fingers, so I’m thinking that they’d like this to play out nice and calm. Which means that right now-oddly enough-the fate of the Accord and their Custodianship could be in our hands. Whether we publicly prove the Arat Kur, or ourselves, to be liars, is equally harmful to the Dornaani: both outcomes indicate that they have failed as Custodians, and it weakens the Accord.”

Trevor was nodding. “Yup. That’s how it would play out, for them. So they’d be happiest if we play dumb and go along with the charade.”

“And thereby keep the peace.”

Downing shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Risky business, giving the Arat Kur any info they want.”

Caine shrugged. “Except, if we’re right, the Arat Kur came here expecting to cause an incident, not actually gather intel. So if they try to interrogate us without a prior investigatory game plan, we’re likely to learn more from them than they will from us.”

Downing’s eyebrows went up. “Yes, that’s probably true.”

Visser was looking back and forth between them. “I do not understand.”

“Caine is quite right, Ambassador. If we do not tip our hand-if we ‘play dumb’-then the Arat Kur will want to keep asking more questions. But each one of their questions tells us a great deal about what they already know about us-and what they don’t. With some careful analysis, we might even be able to reconstruct what sources of information on Earth they had access to-or at least those they didn’t. The more questions they improvise today, the more we learn about them and their intelligence operations.”

Caine nodded. “And it puts the ball back in the Arat Kur court: they’ll damn themselves with their own actions.”

Durniak nodded. “Da. And if the Arat Kur act like brutes, the undecided powers should be more likely to side with the Dornaani. But I wonder: are the Arat Kur alone in this?”

Caine rubbed his chin. “Maybe, but it’s also possible that they’re the patsies of one of the other two powers.”

Trevor looked up. “What about the Slaasriithi? I find it pretty suspicious that they refuse to show themselves.”

“Yeah, but so far, they’ve been affable, even if they’re shy and cautious. It could all be an act, I suppose, but they seem pretty temperate: not as likely to be the movers and shakers in this club.”

“And the Ktor? What about them?”

Caine looked across the amphitheatre at the wheeled water tanks. “What about them, indeed. The wild cards.”

“And what about them?”

“Who?”

Hwang pointed to the left. “The other new kids on the block.” Caine turned, looked into the now-transparent gallery that had been assigned to the other candidate-race.

Rough brown-gray fur covered most of a pebbly hide. They were upright but digitigrade, standing at least two meters tall even without raising up on their long rear legs. A thick, round, pointed tail sent a faint line of lighter fur up the spine. It thickened into a crest where it divided the blocky haunches, mounted the barrel-shaped back between arrestingly large shoulders, and then ran along the ventral ridge of a neck that was the shape and thickness of a small pony’s. As Caine’s inspection reached the head, he heard Durniak gasp and Trevor mutter, “Christ.”

The head was hardly a separate object; it was a seamless, curved continuation of the neck, which ended in three pronounced nostrils arrayed as the vertices of an equilateral triangle. On either side of that nose, two glinting obsidian eyes were mounted under bony ridges that flared out from whatever skull might be extant beneath the sheath of flesh and muscle that blended back into the neck. The rounded “head” was long, rather like a cross between that of a sloth and an anteater, but the underslung jaw was vaguely reminiscent of a sperm whale’s. The spinal fur was heavier and thicker on the head, rising into a high, tufted crest. Caine’s eyes met those of the-creature? It was hard to think of it as a person, just yet.

“Do you think they’re part of the Arat Kur plot?” pressed Hwang.

Trevor exhaled emphatically. “Good God, I hope not,” he said, staring at the short, wide swords that swung from each one’s back-slung baldric.

Caine stayed silent, surveyed the group’s reactions: Durniak seemed to be having the most profoundly xenophobic reaction-odd since her xenophobia index had been one of the lowest. But tests and reality are two very different things. Hwang and Thandla evinced almost spiritual detachment, whereas Wasserman seemed too contentious and self-involved to be affected. Elena looked captivated, not terrified. Visser seemed rigid, but was still coping. And Trevor’s outburst struck Caine more like a means of purging anxiety rather than a declaration of it. All in all, the delegation was doing pretty well handling the sight of such profoundly different-and potentially ominous-exosapients.

The one who was looking at Caine raised a four-fingered hand-a thumb on either side of the palm-in what seemed a gesture of greeting, or maybe threat, or even warding. Caine raised his hand in response-

— just as the privacy screen reasserted. Caine turned; Visser had given the signal to Thandla. “We must resume our conversation with the Arat Kur; they are waiting.”

Caine nodded to Thandla, then cleared his throat. “My apologies, Zirsoo. There was some debate as to how much detail we should use when responding to your question regarding the relationship between the World Confederation and the United Nations.”

“You have finished your deliberations?”

“Yes. Please feel free to ask any question you wish.”

And so began the dull recitation of the sad facts-which, in retrospect, read like the decline and fall-of the United Nations: its lack of efficacy; the interminable deadlocks in the Security Council; the self-interested posturing and dickering in the General Assembly; its successes in the areas of social welfare and education; and its dismal failures at ensuring, or even increasing, peace, security, and economic parity. As the questions became more specific, Visser and Durniak had to intervene more frequently to provide precise data. After receiving Durniak’s long-and to Caine, baffling-answer regarding the accounting procedures used in the calculation of each nation’s per capita productivity, the questions stopped. Everyone waited.

The yellow quatrefoil pulsed steadily, but no further queries came forth.

“Are there further queries regarding the legitimacy or authority of the government represented by the human delegation?” Alnduul folded his hands, waited. “Very well. If any delegation wishes to formally contest the legitimacy of the World Confederation of Earth, they must do so at this time.”

A brief pause, then Zirsoo’s simulated voice: “The Arat Kur delegation must contest the human government’s legitimacy. The covering dossier claims that it enjoys the approval of seventy-eight percent of the human population and that its leading nations control ninety-two percent of all global productivity. However, the approval percentages were not generated by universal one-person/one-vote polling, but by extremely disparate national surveys and referendums. Furthermore, we are concerned that the human delegation has not shared all the relevant facts regarding the legal creation of the World Confederation.”

Alnduul’s voice sounded exceedingly composed. “The Arat Kur delegation clearly must be dismissing the Custodians’ observations, and preliminary report, that the World Confederation’s practices-and origins-conform to their stated policies.”

Sitting, Caine leaned his chin into his palm: I wonder who else might have gotten their hands/paws/pseudopods on that report before today?

Zirsoo elected not to comment on the Custodial report. “We contend that our arguments warrant the deferral of this Convocation’s consideration of human membership status until such time as a special investigation can resolve the discrepancies we have cited. Furthermore, we point to the illegal means used by the World Confederation to replace the United Nations. Even if the Confederation enjoys the majority support it claims, it is the fruit of a poisoned root: its illegitimate origins compel us to disallow it as a legitimate government.”

Alnduul’s mouth seemed to stretch into a line. “Very well. Are there any other challenges to the legitimacy or authority of the human government?”

Silence.

Alnduul parted his arms. “The objections of the Arat Kur have been noted. However, the Custodians find them to lack sufficient substance to warrant special investigation into the representativeness of the human World Confederation.”

Smiles were springing up around the gallery, but Caine leaned forward: if the Arat Kur were front men for someone else’s agenda, the real heavies would have to step in right about now-

Wise-Speech-of-Pseudopodia’s voice was mild. “Would it not be appropriate to poll the member states to determine if an investigation is warranted?”

Alnduul’s hands stopped in mid-gesture. “It would hardly seem necessary. The Arat Kur did not contest, but simply ignored the detailed-and contrary-findings of the Custodial observation group.”

“Even so, is not a call for investigation at least a matter upon which we should all vote?”

“No other member state challenged the legitimacy of the Earth government. And it is within the Custodians’ purview-indeed, it is among their express responsibilities-to chair all Accord proceedings to ensure not only fairness but to prevent obstructionism.”

Wise-Speech’s response was slow and careful. “So you are accusing the Arat Kur of raising their issues simply to obstruct this process?”

Alnduul’s mouth stretched into a thin, flat line. “I am suggesting that, since the Arat Kur present no evidence that challenges the findings of the Custodial observations, there are insufficient grounds to convene an investigation. I am surprised that the Arat Kur did not perceive that from the outset.”

“And we are surprised at the Custodians’ autocratic handling of this matter. Perhaps issues of unfair and unequal political practices are not restricted to the governments of Earth.”

Caine heard breath sucked in hard and sharp between clenched teeth: Trevor. Downing and Visser seemed to be engaged in a frowning contest. Wasserman sprawled back, stuck his tongue so far into his cheek that it looked like he had dislocated his jaw: “Well, that wasn’t very friendly.”

But Alnduul proceeded without responding to Wise-Speech’s sharp-if oblique-rebuke: “The legitimacy of the World Confederation of Earth is recognized. Member states may now submit general inquiries to the human delegation.”

A long pause. The voice of the Slaasriithi, Vishnaaswii’ah, emanated from the blinking green quatrefoil: “Has the human delegation prepared an encyclopedic self-reference for distribution to interested species?”

Caine nodded. “We have. We had thought the appropriate time to offer it was in today’s final step-that reserved for unofficial inquiries.”

“Your conception of protocol is correct. If you feel it is a fair and thorough almanac of your species, then we feel no need to ask any specific questions at this time. Rather, we shall compile a list of queries occasioned by our perusal of your self-reference.”

“That seems quite prudent.”

Wise-Speech’s simulated voice followed quickly: “The Ktor elect to follow the same procedure, in the interest of shortening the official portion of these proceedings.”

Hwang wiped his glasses. “Sounds like he’s had enough for one day.”

Alnduul gestured up at Caine and Visser. “The Convocation now invites questions from the human delegation. In the interest of brevity, please do not ask more than twenty questions of any given member state.”

Caine, standing outside the sending circle, smiled ruefully. “Never thought I’d be playing twenty questions again.”

“Yeah, well, this time, you’re playing for keeps.” Lemuel was not smiling.

“True enough.” Caine moved forward into the communication node again. “Alnduul, honored delegates, we have prepared our questions beforehand, and elect to submit the same twenty questions to each member state. Transmitting our questions now.” Caine nodded to Thandla, who pressed a virtual button on the touch-sensitive control screen, and leaned back.

Downing broke the silence. “Bombs away.”

Trevor looked over at him. “Which set of bombs are we dropping, anyway?”

“Given the arm’s-length attitudes we’ve encountered today, we decided on sticking with the basics: where they’re from, what they’re made of, how long they’ve been puttering about the stars, when they joined the Accord, which stars are on their allowed pathway of expansion. And of course, a few key questions on the state of their technology. We’ll use it all to construct a timeline, an astrographic map, project their capabilities.”

Elena cocked her head. “And culture and language-?”

“We will get to that in the unofficial information requests, Ms. Corcoran.” Visser had started to pace from one side of the gallery to the other. “Such sociological data are crucial. But with only twenty questions, we must secure key strategic data first.”

Wasserman looked up. “Speaking of strategic data, if the Arat Kur-and the other member states-were playing by the rules, they shouldn’t be able to do any more than listen from the edge of our space. And that means that all their information about Earth should be at least nine or ten years old, since that’s the number of light-years between the outer edges of the zone they’ve reserved for us, and the nearest other stars. So if the leak isn’t from that Dornaani report-”

Downing nodded. “Then someone has been eavesdropping from just outside our home system. Or even inside of it.”

“And to get to Earth, they would have to violate a lot of our other systems first-and be able to do it on the sly.”

Visser looked from Wasserman to Downing to Caine. “You are all assuming that the exosapients, like us, have to start their shift from a solar system. If they don’t, or if they have shift ranges of fifteen or twenty light-years-”

Wasserman jumped in. “If the Arat Kur can pull off stunts like that, then we’re so screwed it hardly matters.”

“Why?”

“Because that would mean that their technology is so far beyond ours, that we’re just a bunch of grunting Neanderthals compared to them.”

“Which is possible.”

“Possible,” commented Elena, “but I think not.”

“Why?” Visser asked.

“Because the Arat Kur seem worried about us. Genuinely worried. Don’t misunderstand me; I, too, suspect that they might be cat’s-paws for another member state. But I also believe that their objections to our candidacy reflect their own fears.”

Downing nodded encouragement. “Go on.”

“Uncle Richard, they are being rude to us. Pointedly and unnecessarily rude. And that behavior has clearly surprised the Dornaani, which suggests that it is not typical for the Arat Kur.”

Visser was staring at her. “So what is the significance of this?”

Elena folded her hands. “It may be an unwarranted-a humanocentric-generalization, but when one group perceives itself to be in conflict with another group, the members of the first group tend to dehumanize the members of the second group.”

Durniak nodded. “War propaganda. Racism.”

“Exactly. But that is the extreme case. The far more common variety of this is a daily dynamic in every culture: being snubbed. That’s what the Arat Kur have been doing to us.”

“And why is that important?”

Elena turned to Visser. “If they were so much more powerful than us, then they would not bother to snub us. Think back on all those British novels that were obsessed with class tensions: a nobleman could freely chat with a tradesman. Why? Because his position was so much greater that his status was unthreatened by associating with the lesser being. But-”

Caine smiled. “But the middle classes would stick up their noses and snub the tradesman. Because they were still close enough to his level that any suggestion of intimacy with him threatened to lower their status by dint of association.”

“Exactly.”

Visser was frowning, but not at Elena. “So you are saying-”

“I know it seems circuitous, but I believe that the Arat Kur’s rudeness, even hostility, suggests that they see us as possible rivals. And that suggests that they can’t have the immense technological edge that would allow them to shift about the cosmos without having to obey the same laws of physics that we do. If they did, the worst we would experience from them is benign indifference.”

Downing sat, hands on knees. “It’s only a hypothesis, but a bloody good one. However, we’re going to need more information in order to push this deductive process further along.”

Visser nodded. “Very well. So how do we go about doing that?”

Caine coughed politely and looked around the room: all eyes were trained on him. He shrugged: “Well, here’s what I was thinking-”