Glayaazh folded her long-fingered hands. “Let us speak frankly, if hypothetically. Any attack on you would certainly trigger intervention by the Custodians. If that intervention is resisted, the ensuing conflict would probably follow the fracture lines of the Accord’s present political impasse. The Dornaani Collective and Custodians would contend with the Ktor, the Slaasriithi with the Arat Kur, and yourselves with the Hkh’Rkh. In each pairing, the Accord forces enjoy a decisive technological advantage. Is this not sufficient reassurance against such an attack?”
“Perhaps,” allowed Downing, “but your analysis is crucially dependent upon the pairings you’ve proposed. What if events unfold differently? For instance, it seems to me that the Slaasriithi tend to be diffident. If, in a true conflict, they failed to engage the Arat Kur vigorously, what would keep the Arat Kur from mounting a first attack on our worlds?”
Glayaazh blinked once and turned away. “Your words are wise. Such a course of events must not be allowed. This we resolve.”
“So you might resolve, but what will you do?”
“For now, we will do nothing that could be construed as a military provocation. However, if any other state moves in a manner that could be interpreted as a prelude to hostilities, we shall so inform you and be prepared to intervene.”
Wasserman tossed his stylus down on his dataslate. “So, in plain English, you’re not going to do anything.”
“If the only action you deem important is military, then you are right: at this time, we are currently disposed to do nothing.”
Wasserman glared at the faces which were glaring at him. “Great allies you’ve picked, folks.”
Glayaazh’s image pointedly looked away from Wasserman and back to Downing and Visser. “Mr. Downing, Ambassador: we regret that we cannot offer concrete assurances at this time. But your behavior at these proceedings speaks well of your maturity and appreciation of rule of law, even under the most adverse circumstances. We shall not forget this.
“And now, this conversation must end: we will be recovering your module and intership coupler from the docking hub shortly. The transit to your new destination-Barnard’s Star-will commence soon thereafter. Again, on behalf of both the Custodians and the Dornaani, we wish you fair travels, and hope that we shall meet soon again to resolve your candidacy.”
“We hope the same.”
Glayaazh vanished. Alnduul, who seemed vaguely troubled, remained behind a moment longer to offer a carefully practiced nod to the rest of the delegation, and then faded.
Hwang turned towards Downing. “Barnard’s Star? Why there?”
Downing folded his hands. “After the results of this Convocation, it is now imperative that we return to Earth by that route.”
Durniak’s forehead was as furrowed as a washboard. “Why?”
Visser raised her chin. “We are returning via Barnard’s Star because the combined fleets there must be placed on alert, and receive a full briefing as soon as possible. Containing a potential invasion depends upon retaining control over the Barnard’s Star system.”
Opal frowned. “And why is that?”
Downing answered. “Because with the Arat Kur sphere somewhere in the vicinity of Sigma Draconis, Barnard’s Star is on their most direct route of approach to Earth. Barnard’s Star is also only one shift from Ross 154, which is the real gateway between Earth and all our colonies and outposts on the Green Mains. If we lose the Ross 154 crossroads, our space will be cut into two halves. So, since the warning needs to be sounded in both directions, Barnard’s Star is the best place to start it off.”
Downing checked his watch. “According to the information Alnduul transmitted, we’ll be leaving in less than two hours. If you have any last messages or tasks to attend to, this is the time.”
ODYSSEUS
Caine and Yaargraukh looked out at the stars together, enjoying another long silence. Like the others, it was comfortable, companionable-but it was also heavy with the surety of ending. Caine nodded at the spacescape. “Looking at these stars is like looking out to sea when a storm is approaching. It’s calm where you’re standing, but you can see the edge of the tempest.”
Yaargraukh pony-nodded. “It is the same on my planet, though we are not so fond of the water.” He turned to face Caine. “You do me a very great honor inviting me into your module, Caine.” He glanced at the flags of the five blocs and the Confederation flanking the gallery window. “We have banners such as these, as well. It shames me that I am no longer able, or even allowed, to extend you an invitation to our module to see them. Or to have made a feast to repay your own.”
Caine shook his head. “No surprise, there-and no fault of yours, Yaargraukh. Besides, your honesty and your openness is lavish recompense for our feast. What gifts could do us more honor?”
The top-heavy Hkh’Rkh turned his barrel-shaped torso to face out into the sea of stars once again. “As we prepare to leave, the First’s retinue already speaks of challenges and glory and new lands. I am not sure it matters to them which challenges or what glory or whose lands shall sate their appetites-but this day, they could feel the blood rising inside them. It sang to them and, in their hearts, they sang back. And so, now that the song has started, it must be finished. Yet, as I sit and listen, I cannot help but think that-had it been left to us, to you and I-the song might have been very different indeed, a better song.”
“One with less blood in it?”
Yaargraukh’s neck oscillated. “Perhaps. But, at the very least, one with more honor. The blood-that was ready to flow before any of us arrived here. I have sat at parley tables where the purpose was not to make peace, but to instigate war. So it was here, I think.”
“I think you are right, Yaargraukh. Perhaps you can make First Voice hear that wisdom.”
“Caine, understand: he knows this already. He is no fool. But he hungers for deeds of honor, and he believes that the Dornaani are weak and incapable of leading. He sees resolve in the Ktor.”
“And the other races?”
“They are deemed akin to those they follow. I think he hoped that you would also turn your back upon the Convocation, but you did not, so he is satisfied that he now knows humanity.”
“Knows that we are also weak and incapable of leadership?”
“So he thinks.”
“And what do you think, Yaargraukh?”
The Hkh’Rkh let a long breath out though his nose; there was a faint sound of warbling phlegm. “I think that First Voice of the First Family has much more to learn about humans. And I do not think he will like the lessons.” He straightened, stepped back from the observation glass. “We end as we began-with truths that are the beginning of an enduring bridge between us.”
This time, having skimmed the Hkh’Rkh self-reference, Caine knew the word to use. “Honor,” he said in Hkh’i.
Yaargraukh nodded somberly. “Honor,” he repeated. “It is sadness to me that we seem destined to fight before our bridge is built.”
Risking one of the few phrases he had learned in Yaargraukh’s language, Caine asserted, “If it is so, then it will be a waste of the blood of the brave.” The axiom was more provocative in Hkh’i: a core proverb, Caine had determined that its closest human translation would be analogous to “It would be the desecration of heroes, even as they march to their deaths.” It was an accusation of heinousness that bordered on atrocity.
Yaargraukh stopped nodding, stared a long time. Caine wondered if he had gone too far, but also felt that-for both his race, and himself-it had been the right thing to say. Because it was the simple truth.
Yaargraukh made a rumbling sound in his chest like he was clearing his throat somewhere near his lungs. “You are not the first to think it, Caine Riordan.”
Together, they turned away from the stars and started the short walk back to the intership docking coupler that would lead Yaargraukh into the featureless walkways of the Dornaani station, and ultimately, to his ship.