City of Ruins - By Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page 0,105

hand, and then look at Al-Nasir. He says it, and I continue. “Can you bring it out here?”

“No,” she says. “A small—” And she mimes handheld while she says another word. “—is not good enough yet.”

She’s convincing me. Or maybe I’m easy to convince. I really want to go in there.

“Why only two of us?” I ask.

Al-Nasir starts to rephrase the question, but she waves him off.

“We are a—” Another of those unknown words.

Al-Nasir fills in. “Military, I think.”

“—ship,” she says. “We do not let most people inside her. Only leaders.”

A military vessel that only allows people inside who are military or heads of state. My stomach twists. Apparently I was wrong about the origin of the ship after all.

“I thought you were a Dignity Vessel,” I say.

She starts and repeats, “Dignity Vessel?”

“Part of the Fleet?”

She relaxes a bit. “We are part of the Fleet.”

“And the Fleet is military?” I ask.

Al-Nasir says the word she used, but I don’t wait for her answer.

“What government do you represent?” I am suddenly worried. Are they a part of the Empire now? Has the Empire acquired enough Dignity Vessels that they are actually using them?

“Government?” she asks slowly. She bites her lip. She’s not sure she understands me. “We are govern us. We belong to no other country. We are the country.”

“The Fleet governs itself?” I ask.

She nods.

“The military serves only the Fleet?” I ask.

She nods again.

“Who runs the Fleet?” I ask, trying to get to it a third way.

“The Fleet has a ship of leaders,” she says. “Ours is not that ship.”

I let out a small breath. I hope I’m understanding her right.

“No one hurts us,” I say. “We leave when we want to.”

“Yes,” she says. “Tomorrow, then?”

I can tell she has said that phrase countless times to Al-Nasir.

“Yes,” I say, and clasp my hands together so that they don’t shake.

Tomorrow I will go inside my first working Dignity Vessel. Tomorrow I may get some answers of my own.

* * * *

FIFTY-SIX

C

oop was nervous. He hadn’t expected to be. He barely slept, thinking about the upcoming meeting.

So much could go wrong.

He was trusting, when he wasn’t sure he should.

According to first-contact protocols, if he were actually following them, he was making a large mistake. He should know who the people he was talking to were, how they fit into their society, and what their society was.

All he knew about them was that there were seven of them, their spokesman had said yes when Perkins asked him if they were explorers, and they seemed to be technologically behind.

But he knew nothing for certain, and that fed his nerves.

Although that wasn’t the only cause. He worried about what the woman might tell him.

He spent the morning overseeing the preparation for the meeting. He used the formal briefing room, one usually reserved for heads of state. This briefing room had state-of-the-art screens and sideboards for meals should a meeting go late. The crew kept the table that dominated the room polished so that the fake wood shone. The chairs surrounding the table had padding and could actually be adjusted for the sitter’s comfort.

Coop hated this room—he wasn’t a formal man—but he was taking no chances here.

The communications team, led by Mae, had set up the translation programs, with a receptor near each seat. Even if someone spoke softly, something would pick up the sound and translate it. Mae’s team would monitor the entire conversation in real time in the communication’s array.

Perkins would be in the briefing room itself to facilitate the translations. She would have a chip in her ear so that she could hear any corrections or alterations Mae made to the translations, although Mae had already told Coop she wouldn’t actively participate in the conversation.

Perkins seemed as nervous as Coop. She double-, triple-, and quadruple-checked the systems, then went early to the airlock just in case their guests arrived early.

He had his personal chef make some pastries and lay out various snacks. He set out bottles of wine he had picked up at Starbase Kappa. He also had flavored waters cooling on a sideboard, and various hot liquids on the other side of the room.

He wore his dress uniform. He posted two guards inside the room as a show of force, and had several others standing by. But he still planned to meet the woman and Al-Nasir with only Perkins at his side.

He adjusted everything as he waited, the bottles of wine, the dishes, even the chairs. He had the screens on so