Fire with Fire(177)

Visser stood very straight. “We thank you, Alnduul.”

“I have done nothing other than perform my duties to you.”

“Okay, then,” Opal said, after glancing quickly at Caine—a glance so brief that Downing was fairly sure he was the only one to notice it. “Since you’ve only been doing your job up until now, I’d like to impose by asking you just one personal question.” Every member of the delegation stared at her.

Alnduul’s inner eyelids blinked rapidly twice. “This is—uncommonly direct of you, Major Patrone.”

“Yeah, well—I get that way when war looks imminent. Which Glayaazh says is not the case. But what do you think, Alnduul: is war imminent?”

“Major, although I cannot answer that question, I can give a relevant response to an earlier query. When Ambassador Visser asked about humanity’s role in this tense situation, Third Arbiter Glayaazh told her that ‘your role is whatever you decide it is.’ I offer a different answer: ‘You already know your role. You merely need to accept it.’”

Visser started. “We already know our role in this conflict?”

Alnduul nodded. “One of you has foreseen it, albeit indirectly.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Riordan.”

Caine looked up with blood-flecked eyes. “What? Me?”

“Yes. We have become quite familiar with the transcript of your statements at the Parthenon Dialogues. If I am not mistaken, you speculated that the earliest role of humans might have been akin to the earliest role of dogs. Do you recall the reason you gave for canines’ original domestication?”

Caine frowned. “To hunt wolves.”

“Exactly. Which is also a great irony: the most effective protectors—the best wolfhounds, if you will—are often those which share many characteristics with the ravagers they have been bred to destroy. But that is hardly surprising, since—as you also pointed out at Parthenon, Mr. Riordan—one must often fight fire with fire.”

Riordan shook his head. “Alnduul, I realize that you’re limited in how much you may tell us directly, but are you implying that the Ktor are wolves and that we’re—well, wolfhounds?”

Alnduul’s mouth half-rotated in the Dornaani version of a smile. “No, Caine Riordan: it is you whose words have implied that. Both at Parthenon and here.”

Caine looked no more edified than anyone else—possibly less so.

Alnduul gestured toward the exit with his tapering hand. “Now, I must wish you all safe travels. Mr. Downing, your party of three shall proceed to your embarkation point. The rest of you must enter your cold cells immediately.” His image faded.

“Fine,” spat Le Mule. “Let’s get it over with.” He was gone in a rush of resentful, gangly limbs.

Opal looked at Caine—whose eyes were unsteady, as if he still found it difficult to focus on distant objects. Although they hadn’t yet engaged in public embraces, this was a logical moment for that breakthrough. But Downing saw that Caine’s unsteadiness caused Opal to pause—and just that quickly, the moment slipped away: they waved awkwardly to each other, instead.

As Trevor helped Riordan into the corridor, Opal turned quickly to Downing. “I thought—”

“Orders change, Major Patrone. But in this case, the change is only temporary. Don’t worry: Caine will be well guarded.”

It was obvious from Opal’s shiny, angry eyes, that her official duty to protect Caine was not the primary source of her distress.

Not at all.

ODYSSEUS

Trevor was the last to enter the podlike compartment in the same Dornaani ship that had fetched them from Earth, and Caine noticed a box under his arm. Seeing the look, Trevor explained: “Elena caught up with me and gave me this, along with the strangest—”

Alnduul’s voice seemed to emanate from every surface in the chamber. “Please settle yourselves comfortably.” The section of the pod they were facing—it seemed wrong to think of it as a bulkhead, somehow—slid aside, revealing the local starfield. “Forgive the malfunction, but your chamber seems to be defaulting into the external display mode. It is not safe to delay our departure long enough to correct it, but if the external view bothers you, we could easily—”

“No, no,” Downing interrupted, “this is fine.” And indeed it was: given the choice between looking at a blank wall or observing the operation of an exosapient starship, no intelligence officer would ever choose the former. And besides, Caine could tell that Downing wasn’t buying Alnduul’s excuse any more than he was: this wasn’t a malfunction; it was a gift.