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one end of the room; the steerers huddled at their table. Dean felt all alone in the crowded gallery, watching COPUOS move toward disbanding the task force.
    No COPUOS action could stop analysis of the message, for ET’s full text was on the ’net for all who cared to see it. There were also plenty of antennas beyond the task force’s jurisdiction that would keep listening for the resumption of ET’s signal. The loss of United Nations funding, if it came to that, would only slow the analysis.
    The real problem would come later, after the message had been fully decoded.
    It was not merely appropriate for Earth’s answer to come from the UN level—it was necessary. Two weeks after Sherman Xu’s press conference, the General Assembly had passed an emergency resolution. With its hasty ratification by three-fourths of UN member countries, the new international treaty now required that any response come only under UN auspices. Mbeke, Ganes, and their ilk showed little interest in approving any such transmission.
    Protocol be damned. Dean started pushing through the crowd to the American ambassador.
    ■□■
    Alexander Klein impressed the hell out of Dean. The man had earned Ph.D.s in history and international studies from Yale at twenty-two. He was tenured at Stanford at twenty-seven. At thirty, he was a senior staffer on the National Security Council. The UN ambassadorship was his second cabinet-level position.
    And none of that, Dean thought, is worth squat today.
    He all but bowled over an aide to get to Klein. They stepped into a small chamber off the COPUOS hearing room. Klein heard Dean out, asking occasional questions and jotting notes on index cards. Glancing repeatedly at his watch, Klein kept the conversation ruthlessly focused.
    Absent a compelling new argument, the hearing was moving toward shutdown of the task force. Dean hoped he was making that case. And that Klein understood it.
    Klein didn’t look convinced. Then again, he didn’t react at all.
    Roderigo’s gavel fell. Ambassadors, witnesses, staff, and observers all took their seats. Eventually, the chairman recognized Klein.
    After a flowery introduction Klein removed a sheaf of index cards from a jacket pocket. “Dr. Satterswaithe, might I impose upon you for a bit longer?”
    Bridget nodded. “Of course, Ambassador.”
    “Thank you, Doctor. I would like you to step back from the text of ET’s message, or rather from the part of that message so far decoded. I have been led to believe that it might be instructive to consider the broader context.”
    Klein glanced again at his notes. “Would I be correct in understanding the following? In the last few weeks we have been given proof that humans are not alone in the universe. In fact, we have neighbors who can see our little world here.”
    “That’s right, Mr. Ambassador.”
    “And these neighbors not only have better telescopes than we do, they have better radios as well.”
    “Again, that’s correct.”
    “That’s a lot of disclosure from a supposedly secretive source.” Klein studied his notes again. “And the signal that conveyed all this knowledge came from a transmitter far more powerful than anything humans have ever built?”
    “Far more powerful,” Bridget agreed.
    Was Klein overdoing it? The Third World delegations consistently fussed about possible culture clashes and perceived inferiority more than Dean would have thought possible.
    “Thanks for keeping me clear on these points, Doctor.” Klein took off and polished his glasses, the image of a harmless college don. “Some of my esteemed colleagues have raised a concern, and I am not unsympathetic, about the cost to the UN of the task force.
    “I have reason to believe that these are not the only costs. If I could refer you for a moment to your ‘day job,’ would I be correct in my understanding that radio spectrum is a valuable asset? An economically precious resource?”
    “Very much so, Mr. Ambassador.” Bridget