“And what makes them think we won’t report them to the Dornaani?”
“Frankly, I don’t think they care if we tattle. They’re trying to determine if we will support them, or if we will support the Dornaani. If we respond to their signal at midnight, they’ve got their answer. If we run and tell the Dornaani-again, they’ve got their answer.
Visser looked at Caine. “And what do you think of their proposition to us?”
“I think that Wise-Speech is Ribbentrop and we’re getting to choose whether we’re going to play the part of Neville Chamberlain or Winston Churchill.”
Wasserman frowned. “Sorry; not up on my history.”
“Long story made short: Britain’s Chamberlain tried to appease Germany before World War Two, agreeing to look the other way while the Nazis gobbled up chunks of the continent. All to avoid war.”
“Some great plan: look what happened.”
“My point exactly-and I think that’s the lesson we should remember right now.”
“You mean, we should side with the Dornaani?”
“Yes.”
“Who want to hem us in?”
“No, Lemuel. The accords set limits. And the Dornaani have given clear indications that the time may be ripe to redefine or even reduce those limits. But they are also trying to follow the law.”
“You mean, they’re being anal-retentive.”
“Look: the Dornaani may be somewhat elusive, and they’re not exactly the life of the party, but they’ve risked losing their official validation as Custodians over the principles-and integrity-of their duties. And if they lose that validation, what happens next? War? Or do the Ktor create a new Accord with new rules? And what do the Dornaani do if the Ktor’s new Accord violates the limits set by the Dornaani Accord? Do the Dornaani go to war-start hostilities to enforce compliance to a set of restrictions that are no longer recognized by the majority of species? I think that the Dornaani, despite their technological edge, have become the underdogs-and the wronged party-in all of this.”
Visser nodded. “And the Ktor smell like wolves.”
“Actually, they smell like ammonia.”
Caine, along with everyone else, turned to stare at Thandla. “What do you mean, Sanjay?”
“The Ktor must be native to a very cold environment: the heat exhausts of their cooling system were extremely obvious. From what I can gather, they must exist at less than minus eighty degrees centigrade.”
“How can that be?”
Hwang shrugged. “It’s theoretically possible. Goes along with the ammonia his chemical sniffers picked up: methane and hydrogen fluorine are two low-temperature alternatives to carbon as a potential basis for life.”
Visser, arms folded, stared at the floor. “We are fortunate to have this information, but we do not have the time to consider its significance at length. For now, we must simply prepare ourselves for tomorrow, for the vote on whether we are to be offered membership or not.”
“Sounds like we’ve got another choice to make before then.” Lemuel stuck his hands in his pockets, looked around the informal council circle. “What do we do when Wise-Speech calls us at midnight? Because if we don’t pick up the phone and make nice, I think it’s pretty clear he’s going to vote against us tomorrow.”
Silence. Then Durniak shrugged. “I will propose ideas as-how do you say it? — as devil’s advocate. So: if we show interest in the Ktor’s proposition tonight, how does this benefit us?”
Hwang ticked off the benefits on his fingers. “We would be allied with the most aggressive species. They will place few or no limits on expansion, which means we can maximize our power and territorial reach. They are willing to give us access to advanced technology. We also seem to be their preferred partners: they are contemptuous of the Hkh’Rkh, dismissive of both the Slaasriithi and the Dornaani, and are willing to let the Arat Kur be overrun by us. So they seem to be suggesting that we would enjoy a special relationship with them.”
Wasserman nodded. “Pretty compelling reasons.”
Elena stared at him. “You trust them?”
“Christ, no; Wise-Speech is a lying sack of shit. And why would he be any less likely to sell us out than the Hkh’Rkh or the Arat Kur? But we’re looking for the positives of joining him, right?”
Elena shuddered and nodded.
So did Durniak. “It may be a dangerous thing we would do if we choose not to side with the Ktor. The Custodians tried to keep us from having to make binding decisions-but it is happening otherwise to us.” Tired, distracted, her facility for English was starting to erode.
“But it’s the wrong choice. We all know that-don’t we?” Elena looked around the group.
Thandla shrugged. “At least we would be choosing our own fate. And being friends with the most dangerous species means we have protected our world from them. Also, their preference for our cooperation might indicate that we have enough power that they will genuinely feel safer having us as their long-term allies. So, as long as we remain strong, we need not fear betrayal.”
Caine shook his head. “Look, let’s be realistic about what advantages we clearly don’t have going into this showdown tomorrow. We are still utterly ignorant of the other star-faring races in this region of space, and even if we read and study all night, that will not have materially changed by tomorrow morning. Next, we have little to no idea of the real political interactions among them: just a few hints and innuendos that might be misinformation, and a few implied promises that might be just so much hot-or very cold-air. And we are, with the possible exception of the Hkh’Rkh, technologically inferior. So what assets can we really bring to any relationship with these other powers?
“If we choose the mercenary route-assuming the Ktor even mean what they say about allying with us-we become collaborators in an illegal attempt to subvert or destroy the Accord, either by war or political pressure. Either way, we wouldn’t be doing that because we believe in it, but because we are scared.”
“Yeah.” Lemuel’s voice was tired. “But what other options-or strengths-do we have?”
“We have the option to do the right thing, to follow the process as the Dornaani outlined it, which means, ultimately, supporting the Custodians and the rule of law. And I think that the strengths we bring to that relationship are greater, and ultimately offer greater protection, than the gutless sycophancy we’d bring to a partnership with the Ktor.”
Downing frowned. “And what strengths would we bring to an alliance with the Dornaani?”
Caine looked him in the eye. “Courage. Versatility. Perspicacity. And, most important, integrity.” Half of which you seem to lack.
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Downing was looking at his watch. “Ten minutes to midnight.”
Ten minutes later, Caine was sitting at the communications console in the hab module. The other nine members of the delegation were crowded into corners, in between banks of monitors, perched upon chairs that had been appropriated from other rooms. No one spoke.
On the console, a green light came on. Thandla, sitting alongside Caine, checked his watch and nodded. “Incoming signal. Tight beam.”
Caine raised his right index finger, looked around the room. “Are we all agreed?”
Stares became nods. Caine nodded in response, turned back to the console. He pressed a button well to the left side of the blinking green light. It-and all the monitors and gauges on the console-went dark.
“Powered down,” announced Thandla.
Visser sighed, arms clutched tight against her chest. “It’s done. Let us get to bed. We have an early day.”
As everyone else headed to the exit-Elena was gone before Visser had finished speaking-Opal headed toward Caine. Her smile was wide, but a bit tentative. “Heavy day,” she said.