After the Secretary slunk away from the witness table, the Chairperson rose to introduce the next speaker.
“Before I do so, however, I wish to make an announcement.” She held up several sheets of paper. “The Central Committee of the Great Realm of the Chinese People adopted a resolution this morning. The text was just transmitted to me, along with the request that I read the resolution into the records of this Committee’s session.”
A small groan went up. The Chairperson smiled, ever so slightly, and dropped the sheets onto the podium.
“However, I will not do so, inasmuch as the resolution is very long and repetitive. There is one single human characteristic, if no other, which recognizes neither border, breed, nor birth. That is the long-windedness of legislators.”
The chamber was swept by a laugh. But the laughter was brief. The Chairperson’s smile vanished soon enough, replaced by a steely glare.
“But I will report the gist of the resolution. The Chinese people of the world have made their decision. The so-called galactic civilization of the Guilds and the Federation is nothing but a consortium of imperialist bandits and thieves. All other species, beyond those favored as so-called `Doges,’ are relegated to the status of coolies.”
Her voice was low, hissing: “It is not to be tolerated. It will not be tolerated. The Great Realm strongly urges the World Confederation to adopt whole-heartedly the proposal put forward by our Gha fellow-toilers. Failing that, the Great Realm will do it alone.”
Ainsley sucked in his breath. “Well,” he muttered, “there’s an old-fashioned ultimatum for you.”
“What does this mean?” asked Fludenoc.
Ainsley rose from his seat. “What it means, my fine froggy friend, is that you and I don’t have to spend the rest of the afternoon watching the proceedings. It’s what they call a done deal.”
As they walked quietly out of the chamber, Ainsley heard the Chairperson saying:
“—to Commodore Craig Trumbull, for his unflinching courage in the face of barbaric tyranny, the Great Realm awards the Star of China. To all of the men and women of his flotilla who are not Chinese, in addition to he himself, honorary citizenship in the Great Realm. To the crew of the heroic Quinctius Flaminius, which obliterated the running dogs of the brutal Doge—”
When the door closed behind them, Fludenoc asked: “What is a `done deal’?”
“It’s what happens when a bunch of arrogant, stupid galactics not only poke a stick at the martial pride of North Americans, but also manage to stir up the bitterest memories of the human race’s biggest nation.”
He walked down the steps of the Confederation Parliament with a very light stride, for a man his age. Almost gaily. “I’ll explain it more fully later. Right now, I’m hungry.”
“Ice cream?” asked Fludenoc eagerly.
“Not a chance,” came the historian’s reply. “Today, we’re having Chinese food.”
XI
And now, thought Ainsley, the real work begins. Convincing the Romans.
He leaned back on his couch, patting his belly. As always, Gaius Vibulenus had put on a real feast. Whatever else had changed in the boy who left his father’s estate in Capua over two thousand years ago, his sense of equestrian dignitas remained. A feast was a feast, by the gods, and no shirking the duty.
Quartilla appeared by his side, a platter in her hand.
“God, no,” moaned Ainsley. “I can’t move as it is.”
He patted the couch next to him. “Sit, sweet lady. Talk to me. I’ve seen hardly anything of you these past few weeks.”
Quartilla, smiling, put down the platter and took a seat on the couch.
“Did Gaius tell you that we’re going to have children?”
Ainsley’s eyes widened. “It’s definite, then? The Genetic Institute thinks they can do it?”
Quartilla’s little laugh had more than a trace of sarcasm in it. “Oh, Robert! They’ve known for months that they could do it. The silly farts have been fretting over the ethics of the idea.”
Ainsley stroked his beard, studying her. Quartilla seemed so completely human—not only in her appearance but in her behavior—that he tended to forget she belonged to a species that was, technically speaking, more remote from humanity than anything alive on Earth. More remote than crabs, or trees—even bacteria, for that matter.