Visser was staring at her. “So what is the significance of this?”
Elena folded her hands. “It may be an unwarranted-a humanocentric-generalization, but when one group perceives itself to be in conflict with another group, the members of the first group tend to dehumanize the members of the second group.”
Durniak nodded. “War propaganda. Racism.”
“Exactly. But that is the extreme case. The far more common variety of this is a daily dynamic in every culture: being snubbed. That’s what the Arat Kur have been doing to us.”
“And why is that important?”
Elena turned to Visser. “If they were so much more powerful than us, then they would not bother to snub us. Think back on all those British novels that were obsessed with class tensions: a nobleman could freely chat with a tradesman. Why? Because his position was so much greater that his status was unthreatened by associating with the lesser being. But-”
Caine smiled. “But the middle classes would stick up their noses and snub the tradesman. Because they were still close enough to his level that any suggestion of intimacy with him threatened to lower their status by dint of association.”
“Exactly.”
Visser was frowning, but not at Elena. “So you are saying-”
“I know it seems circuitous, but I believe that the Arat Kur’s rudeness, even hostility, suggests that they see us as possible rivals. And that suggests that they can’t have the immense technological edge that would allow them to shift about the cosmos without having to obey the same laws of physics that we do. If they did, the worst we would experience from them is benign indifference.”
Downing sat, hands on knees. “It’s only a hypothesis, but a bloody good one. However, we’re going to need more information in order to push this deductive process further along.”
Visser nodded. “Very well. So how do we go about doing that?”
Caine coughed politely and looked around the room: all eyes were trained on him. He shrugged: “Well, here’s what I was thinking-”
Chapter Forty-Four
ODYSSEUS
Alnduul’s image stood with hands folded as Caine stepped closer. “Alnduul, just a moment ago, we detected a crucial oversight on our part: we neglected to send questions to one other important group.”
“If you refer to the other candidates, the Hkh’Rkh, they are not yet a member state, and so your inquiries may only be made informally, at the end of today’s official proceedings.”
“Alnduul, the Hkh’Rkh are not the group to which we wish to address our questions.”
Alnduul’s inner eyelids slowly closed. “I am perplexed. There is no other group.”
“With respect, there is: the Custodians.”
Alnduul’s mouth seemed to squirm. “I remain perplexed: you are obviously aware that the Dornaani are the Custodians. Answers to your questions on the Dornaani sphere are currently being crafted by Third Arbiter Glayaazh.”
“Alnduul, the questions we would ask the Custodians are different than those we would ask the Dornaani.”
“How so?”
“We have asked the Dornaani questions pertaining to their history. But if we were to wish information on the history of the Accord itself, it seems only right to ask the Custodians. And I must believe-since Custodianship is not a permanent position-that the Dornaani and the Custodians are separate political entities. Or is the voice and will of the Dornaani the same thing as the voice and will of the Custodians?”
Alnduul’s lids slowly cleared his eyes: the pupils were fixed upon Caine. “None before have made such a distinction when submitting their questions.”
Caine felt several retorts and appeals rush up like an incipient, reflexive shout. Trusting instinct, he pushed them back down-and waited.
Alnduul’s eyes did not waver. “However, it is an apt distinction. And perhaps more necessary now than in the past.”
Behind him, Lemuel’s “We’re in!” drowned out a chorus of relieved sighs, all from outside the sending circle.
Alnduul gestured to himself. “I shall be the one to answer your questions. You may proceed.”
“Before beginning, we wish to clarify: the Custodians may not withhold information pertaining to their own activities, is this correct?”
“Fundamentally, but there are two key exceptions.”
“Which are?”
“Until you are conferred membership, we will not indicate the existence of, nor discuss any of our activities involving, any protected species.”
“Understood. And?”
“And, if in answering your questions regarding our activities as Custodians, we would be forced to disclose information on other member states, we must decline to answer.”
“We assumed so. However, did you not, during our first contact, indicate that another race had been recruited to augment the Custodians in a variety of routine functions?”
“This is so.”
“So we may also ask questions regarding the performance of those functions as well, correct?”
A pause. Gotcha. But maybe you’re glad we’ve found this loophole-
“You may.”
“By extension, then, we may ask the identity of these auxiliary Custodians?”
A longer pause. “We have never considered this particular line of inquiry. However, revealing any of the activities of a member race would violate the race-privacy protocols of the accords.”
“Allow me to verify that I am accurate in my understanding: is it true that this other race has served as Custodians?”
A long, long pause. Then: “Yes, they work as Custodians.”
“Then I do not understand how questions pertaining to them, or their identity, are protected under the accords. The Custodians themselves have no such protections.”
“No, but the racial identity of our assistant Custodians is irrelevant. Their species of origin does not alter their responsibilities or their performance of them.”
Caine had foreseen that rebuff: “Alnduul, do you believe that the nature of an observer influences what they observe, and thus, what they report?”
“Yes: we hold this to be a fundamental tenet of the limits of empirical method.”
“So do we. So I must insist that the speciate identity of a given Custodial team will ultimately shape the work they do. By inescapable deduction, then, their identity is pertinent to any detailed inquiry into the overall history and performance of the Custodial function within the Accord.”
“Please excuse me for a moment.”
No one in the gallery spoke. Alnduul’s “moment” was seven minutes in length. Then: “Thank you for your patience. Although we have no extant policy on this matter, your reasoning is without flaw. In the absence of explicit rulings to the contrary, we hold that you may inquire as to the identity of those who have been solicited to assist us in routine Custodial tasks.”
“Good job, Riordan.” Lemuel’s mutter was triumphant. Visser was smiling fiercely; Downing only nodded and mused. Elena seemed to be carefully staring somewhere else.
And now, the 64,000-credit question…“Which member state has been assisting you in Custodial matters?”
Alnduul’s pause was peculiar in that Caine could not see any reason for it. “The Ktor.”
Eyes closed, Downing nodded vigorously to himself.
“May we ask how the Ktor were chosen, and why?”
Again a long, strange pause. Alnduul’s thumbs seemed to flex downward slightly-
— and Elena was on her feet. “He’s embarrassed-or apologetic-or annoyed.”
“Annoyed at us?”
“No. At himself.”
Alnduul stood straighter. “I cannot reveal all the circumstances surrounding that choice, for to do so would violate the privacy of several member states. However, I may tell you that the Ktor volunteered to serve in this role. Furthermore, the requirements of Custodianship make it most prudent to solicit help from other member states in descending order of their technical competencies.”