Fire with Fire(147)

“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.”