*For beings of superior intellect who travel at faster than light speeds, they seem curiously apprehensive,* observed Atlas. *I suggest that you refuse. That should give us some interesting data.*
“Then our discussions are at an end,” said Hunter. His go-buggy began to slowly back up. “When you are willing to admit me to your ship as I am, or to meet in our conference quarters, then we will be happy to resume. In the meantime, you are welcome to keep your ship where it is. For your own protection, we will place a military quarantine around it.” He spun the ground-effect machine around and prepared to move away.
“Wait,” said the voice behind him. “This is a poor start to our historic meeting. You may board our ship.”
*That is the translating apparatus,* said Atlas, *that box high on the far wall.*
*Yes, I see it.*
*It seems most improbable to me that they do not have a portable means for translating outside the ship.*
*I agree,* said Hunter. *It is something to keep in mind.*
*Yes. Do you have any intuitive reactions to the three of them, any unconscious or subjective feelings that you have not yet vocalized?*
*Not yet. Or at least I can’t sort them out. Right now I’m just trying to figure out if there’s any difference between them and, if so, what it is.*
If there was a physical difference between the three Trajendi, Hunter was unable to detect it on any obvious level. To the trained eye—that of a Trajendi, or, hopefully, Atlas’s—there were almost certainly identi-fying characteristics in the constant play of colors that flickered in each creature’s light tower. To the unaugmented human eye, however, the only way to distinguish one Trajendi from the other was by its clothing: Meurchong’s uniform was pale green with dark blue gloves, Ahoolabba’s was muted copper with bright red gloves, while that of the Trajendi who had led him into the ship, Gadagal, was yellow and orange.
Whether Gadagal was the captain of the craft or its scullery boy was still uncertain, as was the exact number of Trajendi aboard. Just because three of them had shown themselves didn’t mean that there weren’t a dozen or more concealed behind the walls; certainly there appeared to be ample room for them.
Hunter, Atlas, and their team of negotiations experts had early on decided that Hunter would attempt to seize the initiative by pushing the Trajendi as much as possible. Forcing himself aboard in his go-buggy had been the first step. Now he took the second.
“Your lighting is uncomfortably harsh to my eyes,” complained Hunter. “I realize that it probably constitutes your own natural lighting, but I wonder if you could mute it for me. Otherwise I may experience optical damage over a prolonged period of time.” Which, Hunter realized, might actually be the truth: the light in here was unpleasantly harsh and bluish.
As he spoke, he watched with interest the brief flashes of narrow-beamed color that shot first between the translator on the wall and the three Trajendi and then between themselves. A strange way of communicating, he mused, and one that seemed difficult to have developed through purely natural evolutionary forces.
Hunter shrugged. Speculation of that nature was what Atlas was here to worry about.
The four of them were seated in the same room in which Major Lubchek had had his first encounter nearly a billion miles away. To human eyes it was curiously proportioned, hardly more than twelve feet square, with a ceiling at least twenty-five feet overhead. It bristled with odd corners and angles and had no recognizable furniture or artifacts. But then, thought Hunter, if normally this ship were under zero gravity, then the floor they were sitting on might well be a wall.
A wall with three wedge-shaped stools of yielding blue material on which the three Trajendi were now sprawled, their legs dangling bonelessly?
*Their stools are movable,* said Atlas, *I can detect the mechanism.*
*Good. But do you think we can successfully negotiate here without all the instrumentation we installed in the conference room?*
*I’m not yet fully certain. The auxiliary sensors we installed in your arms and leg and in the ground-effect machine are working satisfactorily. If you can upset the Trajendi further, I will try to build a database from those readings. I suggest we object to their use of Lubchek’s voice.*
“Before we go any further,” said Hunter, addressing himself to each of the three light towers in turn, “I must inform you that in our culture it is considered a serious mark of disrespect to address me in the voice of another person. If you wish to keep from offending me, I must ask you to change it.”
“We are sorry—we didn’t realize,” said the voice issuing from the wall. It was no longer Lubchek’s. “You see how many matters we have to discuss before our two species will feel comfortable in dealing with one another.”
“Yes,” agreed Hunter, suddenly wondering what to do next. Almost certainly the voice he now heard was an imitation of his own. Was this the time to try to push the Trajendi into meeting in the conference room? Perhaps it would be better to let them calm down a bit and get a reading that would correspond to their relaxed state. “That is much better,” said Hunter pleasantly. “I thank you.” Perhaps now was the moment to take up the issue of the aliens’ status.
“For the record,” Hunter began, “it is essential that we clarify that you are authorized to negotiate with us.”
“We are authorized to open first contact negotiations, yes,” replied Gadagal.
“Authorized by whom?”
“That is a difficult concept to communicate, as we discovered in talking with Major Stefan Lubchek. We do not have a government in the sense that you use the word. Think of us as the negotiating committee for an official trade organization.”
*I think he’s lying,* Cyrus whispered.
*Why?*
*Atlas would say anomalous readings. As far as I’m concerned, let me just say: that dog won’t hunt.*
*Fine. That just confirms my own feeling that these characters are not what they appear. Let’s let them think they’ve put one over on us. It always helps to have your opponent underestimate you.*
“Very well,” conceded Hunter, returning his attention to the aliens, “that is something we can leave for the political scientists to hash over with you. Now, what item do you suggest that we discuss first?”
The stool on which Gadagal was perched slowly approached Hunter until it halted barely a foot from the end of his go-buggy. Meurchong stationed himself to Gadagal’s left and behind him while Ahoolabba took up an identical position to Gadagal’s right.
*Note the triangular pattern in which they have arranged themselves,* Atlas whispered in Hunter’s brain. *Clearly, their default pattern is to think in threes. I speculate that their number system is calculated in the base three as well.*
*How does that help us?*
*I don’t know yet.*
“I suggest that we dispose of some of the minor issues first,” Gadagal began. Already Hunter had begun to ignore the lights from Gadagal’s light tower and to concentrate on the words issuing from the translation box on the wall. “Naturally, we would like a formal grant of diplomatic immunity for ourselves and our ship so that we may feel personally secure during these negotiations.”
“I will be happy to guarantee your safety from arrest or the seizure of your ship and its contents during these negotiations,” Hunter replied, “provided of course that you do not break our laws.”