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already hot, on the Tubingen .

     
    Abumwe’s negotiations with Sub-Ambassador Ting were winding down when Schmidt heard a pleasant ping from the sub-ambassador’s PDA. Ting excused herself for a moment, picked up the device, appeared to read a note there and performed the Bula equivalent of a smile.
    “Good news?” Abumwe asked.
    “It might be,” Ting said, and set the PDA down. She turned to her assistant, leaned over and spoke quietly into his closest ear. The assistant got up and walked out of the room.
    “I apologize, but there are things I will need to conclude our negotiations, and I don’t have them with me at the moment,” Ting said. “I hope you don’t mind waiting a moment while my assistant retrieves them.”
    “Not at all,” Abumwe said.
    “Thank you,” Ting said. “I think you and I have established a good rapport, Ambassador Abumwe. I wish every negotiating partner I’ve had could be as pleasant and easy to work with.”
    “Thank you,” Abumwe said. “We have enough issues to deal with without adding unnecessary conflict to the negotiations.”
    “I agree entirely,” Ting said. The door behind her opened and her assistant returned, carrying a medium-sized case, which he set on the table. “And I believe that this common belief will aid us both now.”
    “What is that?” Abumwe asked, motioning to the case.
    “Ambassador, you remember yesterday, when we were talking about Ambassador Zala’s appendix,” Ting said, ignoring Abumwe’s question.
    “Yes, of course,” Abumwe said.
    “I noted to you how it was strange such a small part of a system could threaten the entire health of the whole,” Ting said.
    “Yes,” Abumwe said, looking at the case.
    “Then you will understand when I say that what you tell me now, here in our little side room, away from the larger negotiation between the Colonial Union and the Bula, will have an immediate impact on the health of the whole process,” Ting said. “I asked for the right to do this, on the grounds that the specifics of our negotiation—the physical visitation of our people between our planets—lent itself to this particular task. All I had to do was wait until we had all the information we needed.”
    Abumwe smiled. “I’m afraid I’m not entirely following you, Sub-Ambassador Ting.”
    “I’m very sure that’s not true, Ambassador Abumwe,” Ting said. “Please tell me what you know about the Colonial Defense Forces presence on Wantji.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Abumwe said.
    “Please tell me what you know about the Colonial Defense Forces presence on Wantji,” Ting said.
    Schmidt glanced over at his boss and wondered if the tension that he could see in her neck and in her posture would be at all noticeable to an alien not entirely familiar with human physiological cues. “I’m not a member of the Colonial Defense Forces, so I’m not sure that I would be qualified to answer a question about its presence on any world,” Abumwe said. “But I know people in the CDF who would be better able to answer your question.”
    “Ambassador, that was a delightfully artful evasion,” Ting said. “I couldn’t have done it better, were I in your position. But I am afraid I really must insist that you give me a direct answer this time. Please tell me what you know about the Colonial Defense Forces presence on Wantji.”
    “I can’t tell you anything about it,” Abumwe said, opening her hands in a I would help you if I could gesture.
    “‘Can’t’ is a strategically ambiguous word to use here,” Ting said. “Can’t because you don’t know? Or can’t because you’ve been ordered not to say? Perhaps the fault here is mine, Ambassador. I have been too imprecise in what I’ve been asking. Let me try again. This is a question that you may answer with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Indeed, I must insist that it is answered with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Ambassador Abumwe, are you personally aware that there was a Colonial