Caine nodded at Thandla. Wise-Speech and the green and yellow quatrefoils returned.
Alnduul spread his arms. “The delegates of the member states will now respond to the inquiries of the delegation from Earth.”
Wise-Speech managed to produce a tone at once apologetic and sympathetic. “The Ktor delegation welcomes the keen human interest in our species. Indeed, their questions are so far-ranging and pregnant with greater implications, that we cannot answer them in the sterile format necessitated by these proceedings.”
Damn: strike one—
“We would welcome an opportunity for more expansive, less rigidly structured discussions.”
“‘Let’s talk over drinks.’” Wasserman’s paraphrase even got a smile out of Visser.
Vishnaaswii’ah began a moment later. “The Slaasriithi also feel that, given the diverse questions posed by the human delegation, we would prefer not to proceed until their species has a more complete concept of us.”
God damn; strike two—
“Accordingly, we shall send our response in the form of a primer, used to associate our very young with our history, our language, our planet, our polity.”
Wasserman rolled his eyes: “See Dick run. Run, Dick, run.”
“This primer,” continued Vishnaaswii’ah, “and the supplemental materials, are an excellent foundation from which to develop further lines of inquiry. We hope you are not offended that we offer this in place of direct answers to your inquiries.”
Caine raised his voice over Wasserman’s sardonic guffaw. “We will look forward to receiving your primer, Vishnaaswii’ah. And we take no offense: we are thankful that you took it upon yourself to furnish us with what you feel is the best and most helpful first exposure to your race.”
“And our thanks for your patience and gracious response. I think, upon close consideration, you will find the text and the supplementary materials quite—illuminating.”
Caine looked around the gallery; Elena was the only other one who had apparently noted the faintly stilted diction of the last comment. She looked at him, eyebrow raised: “Why mention the supplementary materials twice? Why mention them at all?”
He nodded. “And why emphasize that they would be ‘quite illuminating’ upon ‘close consideration’? That sounded like a surreptitious prompt, to me.”
Downing nodded. “Yes, but right now, let’s hear what the Arat Kur have to say.”
Caine felt the delegation’s eyes turn, along with his, to the blinking yellow quatrefoil. Ten seconds later, they were still waiting.
“Speaker-to-Nestless Zirsoo, there may be a problem with the communications equipment; we are not receiving your responses.”
“The communication equipment is operating properly. We decline to respond to your questions.”
Strike three—a blind miss—and out. Not a single question answered.
Alnduul folded his hands. “The human delegation has received all formal responses.”
Caine stepped closer to the image of the Dornaani. “Alnduul, we would like to ask a question.”
“Yes?”
“Have member states elected not to answer the formal questions of candidate races before this?”
“Yes.”
“How many questions have been declined—in toto—over the course of all the prior candidacy hearings?”
Alnduul folded his hands more tightly. “Two.”
Caine turned to face the others. “Yep. We’re in deep shit.”
* * *
After the long silence that followed, Visser’s voice sounded very tired. “So, any ideas what we should do now?”
Elena looked over at Caine—inquisitively, tentatively—before suggesting, “We could have a party.”
The room was more silent than before. At the words “have a party,” Hwang commenced looking sidelong at Elena, as if assessing her for signs of impending mental collapse. Wasserman’s reaction was even worse: he smiled, kindly and a bit crestfallen, as if he’d just learned that a favorite sibling had been diagnosed with dementia.
But Elena kept looking at Caine—and then he understood. “Yes—of course.”
Durniak’s head snapped back. “We should have a party? Now?”
Elena’s hands were suddenly as lively as Alnduul’s. “No, no—not a party for us. For them. A diplomatic reception.”
“So that’s our show of strength and resolve? They insult us, and in return, we feed them?”
Caine turned toward Wasserman. “No—she’s absolutely right. And not just on the level of communications, but tactically.”
“Pardon?” Downing’s eyebrows were raised.