Treachery Thursday, as it would later be known, began quietly enough. Friday was an official free day for the conference, giving everyone an extra day in the middle of the conference’s three-week official schedule to tour or go on excursions that would take more time. Ten voting delegates were not in attendance that Thursday, having started their breaks early, catching special trains for Helsinki or the ferry to Sundsvall across the gulf, now considered “Little Stockholm” and the capital of Free Sweden.
The president, after a short delay, stepped to the podium and asked for a quorum vote, to make the following votes legal, and a vote to make the proceedings secret. There were a couple of holdouts on both because so many delegates were absent (as the ‘no’ votes explained on the record before voting). Both passed easily.
With the secrecy vote in place, the outside monitors were turned off and security guards moved to the other side of the doors to secure them, two men to a door.
The president read a few dry lines about their duties to keep the debate and, if voted, the outcome of the secret session confidential beyond the official summary that would be issued to the governments they represented. Ahn-Kha approved of the expedient; it allowed the delegates to vote their consciences based on the debate and their own instincts without having their individual votes reported back to the home governments. Though in general he found secrecy ineffective. Enemies usually had the tools and talent to discover what was trying to be kept secret; all the classification did was keep the home population from finding out about the matter.
Which led to another problem with the conference, when you came right down to the wheat and chaff of these votes. The Freehold Conference could vote resolutions left, right, and center, but the home government had no obligation beyond technicalities to obey.
Ahn-Kha returned to the president at the podium. She was weary-faced this morning.
“Now, I’d like to introduce a special delegation from the Lifeweavers,” the translator said in his earpiece. “They wish to address the conference about an important development.”
The Lifeweavers entered in single file from a side door just beyond a grand piano that stood opposite the president’s lectern.
Lifeweavers could look like anything they wanted. They could have paraded into the plenary session in the form of giant praying mantises if they chose. In this instance, they looked like an international trade delegation. They all wore blue pants and gray jackets with open-collar shirts of various colors. Their countenances serene, they glided across the dais.
The conference murmured. “So many,” said Sime. “Something must be coming.”
Some of the delegates bowed; a handful even fell to their knees. In any case, all eyes watched the sixteen Lifeweavers move to the center stage.
The audience hushed, not sure what to expect.
“There has been a startling development in our joint war against the Kurian way of life and death,” the Lifeweaver in the middle of the group said. Ahn-Kha discovered that he was speaking Golden One, and glanced around at his fellow delegates, expecting expressions of confusion. But each one was giving the Lifeweaver his undivided attention. Indeed, some had even removed their translating earpieces. Headphone or no, the Lifeweaver had them hanging on every word and gesture.
“There is no way to make this news any kinder with soft words or halting preambles. We have come to an agreement with the Kurians. There will be peace.”
A smattering of applause broke out.
“The peace I speak of is settled between our kind and the Kurians. Whether you will enjoy the same peace is up to you. This is the one incontrovertible reality: The Interstellar Tree is being divided. Your world, I am afraid, is to be in the Kurian sphere. We must leave it. In turn, the Kurians will abandon all the old portals to any world save the one back to Kur.”
Ahn-Kha had been told more than once that the “portals” were just legends. He knew better, of course; his whole tribe had marched through one of the portals well before he’d been born.
Ahn-Kha wondered if, underneath the psychic projection he was watching, the creatures were capable of blushing with shame. They certainly deserved to.
“We did not agree to the withdrawal without conditions attached to the territories that freed themselves from the Kurians. These are the broad outlines of the arrangement. All territories in rebellion that have attended two of these sessions or coordinated with the Baltic League over the course of the last ten years will be left free. Both sides will disarm to a level of police protection, with provision for ‘national guard’ type units to handle emergencies and limited special forces for operations against international pirates and other gangs operating beyond the reach of national police.”
“That lets Kentucky out,” Sime said, slamming his notebook shut. “It’s like they wrote those restrictions to exclude it.”
“I know which way I will vote, then,” Ahn-Kha replied, surprised at the hard tone to Sime’s voice. Ahn-Kha knew he was not as keyed in to human emotion as his companions, but the only emotional displays from Sime he could remember before this were outbursts of laughter in more relaxed settings.
On the podium, the central Lifeweaver continued. “Individual nonaggression pacts will be worked out between neighboring territories. Future hostile acts will end the agreement as far as that rebel territory is concerned; others will remain untouched so long as they do not materially, financially, or politically support the combatants. Anti-Kurian newspapers and radio programming will be stopped, and in turn the individual Kurian territories will not widen the fighting by taking aggressive action. The main military bodies will carry small arms and light artillery sufficient for police actions and nothing else.”
“Seems to be a lot of wiggle room in that,” Sime said. “If this is the pitch they’re using to sell it, imagine what the unvarnished truth is like.”
“You are probably wondering how it will be determined that the Kurian operating areas have also demilitarized. The Baltic League will organize an international group of inspectors to evaluate the disarmament on both sides.”
That incited a buzz of conversation. Ahn-Kha distinctly heard heavily accented ejaculations of “Impossible!”
The Lifeweaver waited for the side talk to diminish. When he again had their attention he continued. “In time, it is hoped that trade will be established between the rebellious territories and the major regional-level Kurian Territories.”
“Jesus, what’ll they want as currency?” the delegate sitting behind, from Vancouver, Canada, said.
“I can’t believe anyone’s going to go for it,” his seatmate muttered back.
“Look at friend Sime,” Vancouver continued. “This must be a dream come true for the Free Republics. They’ve dropped out of the war.”
How would the delegation vote? Ahn-Kha had observed that the voting delegates