“How can you not?” The response of Creepily-Compliant dripped scorn. “The proof is in front of your face.”
As a whole, the room of dignitaries returned their gaze at the ambassadorial contingent of Urilqii. Mike and Steve—not their names, but given to them by the planet’s residents, who couldn’t pronounce his language—returned the observation without comment.
The Envoy buried his nose in the laced-fingers hands he pressed against his mouth. Since Robertson muffled his thoughts, all Mike heard through the mind-link was humor and the effort not to say something he thought might sting someone’s pride.
The one called President Morgan broke into the tense exchange. “Gentlemen, take a seat. We need to hear what our guests have to say.”
Blowhard wasn’t in the mood to be civil and repeated his protests…and his volume. “This is a trick! We are being overrun by evil beings who want to destroy us!”
Well, true, Mike thought, but the evil was not his people.
“Enough,” clipped the president. “Sit down. All of you.” He nodded to the seats around the conference hall. “Our planet is threatened. We need to set aside our differences and pay attention.”
Mike watched the small group of angry men leave the sideboard and throw themselves back into their assigned positions.
Furniture squeaked. Gasps and grumbles replaced bluster. Some dignitaries throughout the room yanked at the nooses encircling their throats, as though uncomfortable with the fabric.
The garb was puzzling. If it was so uncomfortable, why wear the stuff? It couldn’t make breathing easy, and in a fight the fabric could be lethal if an opponent caught hold of it and pulled.
::And why do the ends point at their reproductive organs?:: In mind-speak, Steve’s voice sounded like a processing machine dealing with a block of rocks.
The silken tones of Robertson merged into their private conversation. ::The preening of gender is my guess. A mating display? Notice how the female of the species doesn’t wear the nooses?::
As usual, Robertson spotted a critical indicator. None of the females in the room wore the neck adornment down the breadth of her chest. In fact, there were only a few females in the room. He guessed the higher-ranked females must be occupied with more critical duties.
Like his people, these humans appeared to separate the genders to avoid unplanned fertility. Well, no worries. It made sense they’d have to deal with the battle fodder before getting to the thinkers, scientists, and culture-caretakers of the species.
::The color and design must mean something,:: Steve mused .
::That stripe of fabric is often the only bright color in the garment.::
::Except for the ones over there…:: Mike shifted his glance to the right side of the hall. ::They’re draped in white from head to toe.::
::A different subspecies perhaps,:: Robertson speculated.
Steve didn’t buy it. However, he was the kind of guy who’d ask what everyone was thinking, but was too polite to mention.
::Hatchling down?::
This time, it was the Envoy who coughed. He seized his water glass and took a hefty swallow. When he set it back down onto the table, squarely in the center of a white piece of linen, everyone was back in their original places and staring at the Urilqii.
Mike felt the hostility radiating from Blowhard cross his skin like a lash of plasma fire. Yet, Senator wasn’t the only one. About one-third of the collective before them appeared to be barely holding on to their composure.
::We’re here to help,:: Steve groused.
::They’re afraid,:: Robertson stated. ::Everything they thought they knew has been proven wrong.::
True, but Mike had no tolerance for sulks. ::They need to get hard, swallow the reality and deal with it.::
::Such is why I’m the diplomat,:: noted Robertson, amused.
President Morgan broke into their thoughts by saying, “Thank you for your patience, gentlemen. Please proceed.”
The Envoy shuffled the documents in his hand—paper, of all things—shifted on his seat—wooden and hide, if one could believe it—and gathered his thoughts. He began his presentation again, and Mike tuned it out. He’d heard it all before. In fact, he and his cabal had gathered much of the data.
As the meeting droned on, Mike quartered the room in a careful reconnaissance. His gaze drifted across the collective, assessing everyone for threat and emotional stability. He inspected the shadows and corners. Beside him, Steve was doing the same thing.
The safety of the Envoy was key priority, as was the hoped-for, successful return to their ship with a treaty. Sure, they could all be replaced, but why bother with the annoyance?
More shouts pulled his attention back to the assembly. In fact, everyone was shouting, even the president. Mike liked the man.
He’d seemed clear-headed and direct, but not at this moment. His dark skin had blanched. The chair behind him lay on its back, probably testament to the man’s lunge to his feet. The white hat Marines stood close enough to touch him, but didn’t.
“You’re telling us they are already here?”
Blowhard’s voice sliced through the pandemonium again. He, like President Morgan, was on his feet. He, unlike the president, had flushed and reddened.
“That is exactly what I’m telling you, Senator,” said Robertson.
“We followed the trail of plundered planets to this sector. There, the trail ended as they went dark, which is their usual action when seeding a planet for colonization, especially if the chosen planet is inhabited. We sent out seekers and sniffers and found this solar system.
“It looked good for an assault, especially with those four gas giants on your system’s outer edge, so we came in. Imagine our surprise when the sniffers skirted those planets and brought us”— he made a dramatic pause— “here.”
More bedlam. “Impossible!” seemed to be a popular phrase.
“Is it?” Robertson’s voice cut into the turmoil. The icy tones stilled denials. “Data retrieval has informed us your planet has been in the midst of destructive climate changes—”
“There is no climate change!” Blowhard roared. “It’s a simple magnetic shift in the…whatevers.”
“That’s incorrect, Senator,” Robertson calmly replied. “Earth’s magnetic field has remained in place, static and unchanging, since we’ve been in the solar system. Movement
