From just behind Caine, Thandla sounded as anxious as Visser looked. “Mr. Riordan, if you could clarify once again-”
Thandla’s question was drowned out by Le Mule Wasserman’s favorite, brayed interjection from the rear rank of the delegation: “Jesus Christ. Thandla, what’s with you? He handed out the procedural guidelines last night.”
Thandla turned toward Lemuel slowly. “I have been memorizing the communication and data protocols that the Dornaani insist we use. Some of the data handshakes are quite complex. Regrettably, this left me little time for memorizing the agenda itself. I hope you do not find that excessively distressing.”
Downing interceded before Wasserman could make whatever riposte he was readying. “Mr. Thandla, after introductions, the current members have an opportunity to question our bona fides as the legal representatives of our species. Then they are allowed to interrogate our government’s dossier, including the legitimacy of its claim to being the definitive source of power and decision-making for our species.”
“I thought the Custodians had already submitted a report on us to the rest of the Accord.”
“Yes, but the Custodians’ report is general, and other than what the other member states have learned from our own broadcast signals, that’s pretty much all they know about us. Protected species like us are entitled to the same informational privacy the members have, except in regard to Custodians.”
Caine heard a faint hiss emanating from the large iris valve before them. “I think we’re on,” he muttered into his collarcom to Opal.
“Okay,” she answered from the security monitoring console back in the module. “The Dornaani just sent a message informing me that we can’t send signals into or out of the Convocatorium. So good luck. I’ll be waiting by the phone when you come out.”
The iris valve opened-and Caine felt someone’s toe bump against his heel. He looked back. Elena, sheepish, green eyes looking up from under a front-fallen raven wing of hair: “Sorry. A little too eager to get in there, I guess. Or nervous. God, can’t they open the door any faster?”
Trevor, head visible despite being at the rear of the group, smiled. “Our grand entrance, El. Savor the moment.”
“You savor it. I just want to get it over with.”
You and me both, Elena. Out loud, Caine prompted Visser, “Ms. Ambassador, after you?”
Head and eyes fixed forward, Visser nodded and led them over the low lip of the valve as the plates scalloped away.
They entered a large, hexagonal amphitheatre. Instead of rows of seats, six raked expanses descended gently to meet in a hexagonal central plane. Centered on that flat hub was the Dornaani delegation, seated in a transparent hemispherical dome. Caine looked overhead at the canopy bounding their own chamber, then to those on either side: they were made of the same nearly-invisible substance. However, unlike the central dome, their own chamber and those of the member states were all in the shape of a teardrop or flower petal, tapered tail pointing back in toward the hub occupied by the Dornaani. One such petal was set into each of the other five slopes of the amphitheater.
Trevor stared around. “So this is where we make it or break it today.”
Downing ran an RF sensor around their gallery. “Technically, the membership decision is made on the second day. But, as you say, success tomorrow depends upon making a good impression today.”
“Yeah, well, let’s not be so eager to make nice that we give away the farm for free.” Wasserman sounded truculent.
Visser, who was running her fingers against the almost frictionless canopy, countered without bothering to turn toward him. “Mr. Wasserman, we are not here to drive a hard bargain. Indeed, I suspect we have little, if anything, to bargain with.” She walked to the narrow, down-sloping point of their flower petal and nodded toward the central dome. Looking up at her, Alnduul splayed his fingers in response.
Durniak pointed across the chamber at the gallery directly opposite their own. It was currently transparent and the shapes within it-akin to water heaters on wheels-were moving slowly from console to console.
“Bozhemoi.” Durniak usually spoke her mother’s language-Ukrainian-but she slipped into Russian when distracted. “What are they?”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Caine offered.
Hwang looked over the top of his reading glasses. “Whatever they are, I suspect they are the most physiologically alien exosapients we have encountered thus far. It’s possible they’re not even carbon-based.”
Elena turned toward Hwang. “Why do you say that?”
“Those massive cylinders. I’m guessing their atmosphere is either too corrosive or laced with lots of hydrogen, making regular seals and pressure-suit materials useless.”
“What if they’re just-well, like fish or water-snakes? They might like a big tank.” Trevor was adjusting his commo-set; apparently, he had not yet established connection with Opal.
Downing nodded. “Perhaps. Or perhaps there are limits to just how extreme an environment these galleries can support.”
“Well, we won’t find out by looking at the member races to our right.” Elena pointed her sharp chin in the direction of the two galleries that were located counter-clockwise from their position: both were opalescent, glowing from within-but opaque.
“The same with the member race just to our left,” Thandla observed, pointing.
Caine shook his head. “That chamber belongs to the other new candidates, Sanjay. Alnduul explained that while a candidate race is being questioned, the Custodians keep the canopy opaque: being watched might distract a newcomer, cause them to act or speak hastily when-”
“Welcome.” Alnduul’s voice seemed to emanate from all around them. Caine looked down: Alnduul had come to stand at that part of the central dome closest to their own gallery. “We are completing our inquiry of the other candidate race now. Are you prepared?”
Visser nodded at Caine-but her lips were a tight, sealed line. She can’t even say “yeah, hi, thanks for inviting us”? Aloud, Caine responded: “Yes, we are ready, Alnduul.”
“Very well. We shall soon interdict the transparency of your gallery. However, introductions first: directly across the Convocatorium is the Ktor delegation.”
“The water heaters,” grumbled Wasserman.
“Moving clockwise from them toward your gallery is the Slaasriithi delegation and then the Arat Kur delegation. To your immediate left are the Hkh’Rkh, who were heard first today.”
“Why?” Eight pairs of eyes turned to glare at Lemuel. Who stared back. “Hey; it’s a fair question.”
Alnduul’s answer disrupted the silent, growing consensus that Le Mule Wasserman was about thirty-three years overdue for a truly life-altering spanking. “Unfortunately, I cannot answer that question without disclosing data regarding the Hkh’Rkh. However, the clockwise order of the galleries reflects the order in which the member states have joined the Accord.” He paused. “You will note that your gallery precedes the Hkh’Rkh’s in the sequence.”
“But we are not yet a member state. Nor are they.”
“This is true, Ambassador. However, should you both become member states, the gallery order you see now is the order that will be retained. I will signal you again shortly.”
Trevor was the first to speak. “So we have seniority.”
Elena’s hair hung down, concealed her face from Caine. “But we don’t know why.”
“And we don’t know if that is good or bad.” Durniak rubbed her elfin chin.
The world around them faded to cream; the canopy was no longer transparent. A light flashed on the console in front of Thandla; he opened the link at a nod from Caine.
Near the gallery’s narrowest point-the tip of its teardrop-tail-a very convincing hologram of Alnduul appeared. Thandla leaned forward to study it; Wasserman leaned back, squinting at the image and glancing quickly at the walls.